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Regina’s main door felt cold and unwelcoming as Emma knocked on it: the air chilly as she was forced to put her hands inside her pockets in order to retain some feeling warmth. She fidgeted while moving away from the main porch of the manor, almost waiting for the door to repel her is she dared to knock more than what Henry had instructed her to never be more than three knocks. 

He had also told her to wait and not try again for at least 20 seconds. “If you're early” he had reasoned “she might thing it’s me needing my backpack or some of my books” and she did precisely that, air buffeting, hair fighting against it as she changed her weight from one leg to the other. It was early, she had been careful on getting up and be out the door at an hour that would correlate with a forgetful teen and his need for some books. The apartment feeling cramped and too full of noise also helping her as she had muttered something about wanting to start an early shift while Snow complained about needed more milks and eggs and something else Emma had forgotten about by the time she had reached her car. 

The interior of the car had been blissfully silent and she had taken the opportunity to bask onto it. The ride had been short-lived, however. Nerve-filled.

Pushing her thumbs over the loops of her belt, Emma thought back on the conversation that had pushed her there, to the way the cold clung to her, made her nose itch with a telling redness she was sure would began to blossom if she kept herself outside the slightly warmer interior of her car long enough. Damned complexion, really.

Henry had been right of course, the sound of the door opening halting her thoughts as she looked up, nerves returning just as Regina's own smile froze, turning guarded the moment she recognized that Henry was not near or behind her and she had not indeed been visited by him before starting his school day. Emma saw the movement coiling on Regina's arm before it happened, seconds going by as the brunette moved herself towards the inside of the house once more, clearly attempting to close the door on her without much of a word. Moving forward, she put her right foot just where the door would hit the frame, the sharp pain making her flinch, curling her right hand over the door's edge: pushing. She would get to talk with Regina. She would. No matter how much she feared that the older woman might decide she would make a lovely frog any of these days.

Or, maybe, not. The two of them knew that Regina had had plenty of times during the last few weeks to curse Emma out of her continuous attempts to getting to talk with her and she had yet to do it. It was still unspoken, however and Emma saw it once again flashing quickly over the other woman's eyes; the call for magic that would make things easier if she dared to. She was also able to feel the way the older woman's breathing echoed at the other side of the door, staccato-like, and as she fought against the pressure on both her arm and leg, she gave out a sharp yelp as heat rushed over, fire seemingly about to engulf her for a second easing its grip around her the moment she cried Regina's name. 

"What was that for?"

Pressure easing up, Regina opened the door completely, allowing Emma to take a step back, blowing onto her fingers, the very tips red as fire still echoed in wisps of smoke. 

"A warning." Regina's nostrils flared, irate. "Is Henry alright or have you come to make a social call?" It was civil enough, Emma supposed. They had had worse spats after all. And there was worry, interest. Maybe. 

After all, if Henry wasn't alright she wouldn't be simply knocking on Regina's door at far too early in the morning. It was a start, a conversation, the first one they had had in weeks and Emma was not about to discuss semantics with Regina. Problem being, however, that she hadn't really considered how to start the conversation.

"He is."  It was subpar as responses went and Regina's reply reached her just as short.

"Then how is that you are gracing my porch with your presence, Miss Swan if he is indeed safe." It was icy and Emma winced at it, at the way she also felt the brunt of Regina's anger. Ire was easy, she thought, easier than anything else. 

"Well, if you answered your pigeons I wouldn't be here." Silence. Rising her chin in slight defiance, she steeled herself, shoulders tense. "Mu... Snow insisted"

Not quite a lie, Snow had, after all, but she hadn't been the person most interested in Emma doing what she had come to do.  Regina faltered and Emma took it as the win it was, small mercies, perhaps, in comparison with the rest.

Because, yes, Regina had been isolating herself for weeks now, barely trying to spend time with them at any capacity beyond the usual 'monster-of-the-week' instances in where her magic had been needed. Her eyes had been dark, clearly working through things in a way Emma doubted was entirely healthy. Not like she knew how that would work for her either: she had made the decision or not returning back to New York, was happy with it as much as one could considering she was living with her parents and they did not know how to be around her in that way in where glass seemed to be about to break if any person within the room made a comment outside the carefully curated and crafted script they all had decided to accept as part of their lives now.  
And so, Emma had been running around town, trying to find where did she fit amidst its inhabitants, amidst her title, that one she had taken in order to fit. She had also thought on where that left her, where that left Regina, to her, to them. Emma knew that they had seen her as the savior, this promised child, ever since the first curse had fallen, not unlike -as she had been told time and time again- Regina had not been the Evil Queen up until that point. So many liked to comment on how Emma had always been the princess of the realm, whatever realm that was and they seemed happy to know she had decided to stay, to be their Hero. Unable, by fate's decree, to be anything else.

The whole thing felt constricting. Far too much.

Her decision to stay was something that sometimes woke her up in cold sweat, when days turned numb and mind was dizzingly full over far too many implications, her dreams overflowing with smiling faces turning judgmental, disappointed, cruel. The loss of the trust given when that trust felt sitting atop a thin layer of ice made her jumpy, anxious. Needing to do everything, to prove enough, so they did not turn her away, back. 

So when Snow had mentioned how she had sent a pigeon over to Regina only to receive the pigeon back with no response and minus one feather -Of course she had counted them! One could never know with a sorceress such as a Regina- Emma had almost jumped to the idea of having yet another excuse that might get her closer to Regina, to have the only woman that would look at her with no the image she had created of herself, of the idea of eternal servitude to a title that felt stifling and tight and not all correct to her but, rather, simply, her, her flawed, human self.
So she wasn't lying. Not exactly. Snow had been insistent over days now, that much had been true, as mornings had turned colder, sky gray and windy with choppy and angry sea to accompany it if one dared to look past the docks. And Emma had, a lot, these past few days.

Regina sighed, arms crossed as she eyed the blonde, seemingly conceding, for now. "What is it? Another crisis that needs to be averted?"

She looked vulnerable in a way Emma did not quite know how to work out: less dark colors on her clothing, maybe; still using grays and off-whites in a way that she looked paler, smaller. Dark circles under her eyes, hair kept away from her face with a practical air around it that made her think of a less put-together act and a more hands-on approach on... something. 

Regina had been fishing for answers; answers on fate, on The Book, on her own character, and what meant for her to be written within it. Henry had needed a few weeks before telling her but he had eventually shared it, how the two of them were working under a new operation. One Emma found herself hurt over not having been privy to it beforehand, about not being considered a person that might need to know, might want to know, what she considered having been vocal about wishing to do: get Regina to be happy, to be at peace. And she did not entirely know, and that had been what made her pause back when Henry had shrugged and continue to demolish his breakfast before kissing her cheek and announcing he had homework to do while skipping away, what would she need to do before the older woman saw, understood, that she wanted in, honestly, truthfully.

"Snow wanted..." And she was careful with the way she moved the syllable around her tongue as she spoke her mother's name, the epithet that ought to accompany it, or even erase it difficult sometimes still. She sucked on her teeth and tried again, more determined. "Solstice is approaching." Not like she knew much about that: she only knew that Christmas was almost there and there was a lack of interest from almost everybody within the town on getting that up and running. There was something though, a mix of the festivity itself and some other details she was getting more and more lost about being mentioned by the fairies when she had gone to them in order to answer the third call of the day about someone wishing to speak with the savior of the town. 
If asked, she was able to remember how the blue fairy had mentioned libations, water being a purifying force, candles being lit around the tombs of those that were no longer there, a way of guiding them as the new year began.

She had also mentioned something closer to Emma's knowledge: food, people meeting over, tables full. Not like Emma had experienced that, but something that was closer to what she had grown up know others had. Which brought her back to the present, with a staring Regina, waiting for her to give up proper context, one she had not given, had she? And so she tried again. 

"Snow wanted to let you know that she wants you to come to the solstice... dinner? I kind of not know what will it be: dinner? lunch? I might need to confirm that later or..." She ought to have asked before coming here but of course she hadn't.

Luckily, Regina seemed to take pity on her.

"Dinner, usually" The brunette looked pensive and Emma felt her head bobbing up and down, unsure.

"That." A second of silence, two by the time she continued on. "That's pretty much it. She is inviting you and she will not take a no for an answer."

A scoff. "And she thought that by making you come here I would say yes?"

It's the way Regina fired back her answer what made Emma sad, really. As if she was a teenager, doing errands for her mother, errands she did not want to fulfill. As if she could not possibly want for Regina to be at whatever party her mother wanted to throw on the very small apartment that felt smaller and smaller with each passing day. As if there would be any other thing she would want to do but talk with the older woman and let her see... what? Her mind stopped there, mouth opening and closing as she sputtered out.

"I offered myself. I want you there."

It's Regina's turn to silence before scoffing once more, turning away from the door while doing so. "Please, don't try that Miss Swan. Why would you want me there?" And the last question is done in a softer tone but still just as angry, as if a push for Emma to admit something, something she does not quite grasp. 

What she did see, though, was Regina retreating back inside the house just before it happened, just as Regina lifted her right hand, magic already sparkling purple on a dozen dots that followed her fingers as she began to cast the hex needed to close the door on her face. She reacted, mostly, just as she did with everything else; calling forth her own powers without a second thought, willing the door to remain open before Regina forced it to close. Muscles hurting as magic came out of her, stronger, perhaps, than it should have been. She flexed her fingers, trying to cast at a slower pace but the damage was done: unstoppable force versus immovable object, and their magic did not bode well when met with the other, not like this. Emma felt, more than saw, the wave of power expand and then contract, barely making in time for her legs to move her, jumping aside as Regina turned, eyes wide as she clapped her hands together, redirecting the force that came from within the epicenter of where their magics had reached the other, shifting the power as it bled through the floor.

Silence for a moment as Emma felt her heartbeat on her throat, her ears, the sound of dogs barking and birds chirping frantically accompanying her as Regina glared at her, lines mapping her face, hard angles and darker shadows.

"What were you thinking?!" Anger bled through her, not directed at Emma, perhaps, not in the same way than she had felt Regina's ire before but colored with, now yes, worry. The kind of one that made her stop while trying to find a retort, clearing her throat as she did so before positioning herself back where she had been, at the porch, hands on her back pockets, fingers pressing against the denim fabric. Regina, on her side, let out the last bits of power, a flick of her wrist concentrating the dirty white she had unequivocally, casted herself.  "You cannot counterspell me before the original spell goes through, Miss Swan. You will create a vacuum when doing so."

Emma barely understood any of the details that Regina added to her words, her eyes were on the prize: a longer than one single sentence being exchanged, the door still ajar. Regina rolled her eyes "Come on in, better to check if you have injured yourself." She moved up, closing the distance she needed before being inside Regina's house,  door behind her just as Regina stopped talking, the smell of her house hitting her nostrils: rich and soft and something that she had grown accustomed to link with the older woman as much as her magic did. 

It had been some time since she had last felt the scent though, the aftertaste on her mouth as she took it in swallowing any apologies she might have began to utter. 

What it came out of her is more personal than an apology after all, a poorly explained admission:

"I want you to be here." It's quick, cobwebs on her brain and whatever else she was going to share, the reason as to why she had pushed so she now stood in the middle of Regina's foyer, completely lost beyond the way Regina's eyes were on her; angry still, yes, but dubitative. Was she blushing? Emma realized she might be far too close to her now, her own realization giving her pause. Progress? Doubt. 
She cleared her throat and kept on talking, feigning to not notice the slight tremor on her voice: "And Henry" quick to amend she tried again, words not quite rehearsed. "Henry also wanted to come today. School though: he is not going to start missing that." 

Not a joke though she allowed for a smile to break through her words. A reminder and a plea that she was being good enough of a parent. Was trying to be at least. Not like, a voice whispered, Regina would not know that: everything Emma knew of Henry, of those distant yet lucid memories her brain kept on conjuring, were her memories after all: an entire life worth of them.

She watched as Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, seemingly reaching a conclusion as she turned and walked deeper into the house in the general direction Emma knew the kitchen to be. She followed after a quick second noticing  the many books opened around every available surface, notes scribbled all over them. As they walked past them, Regina rose her hand, fingers caressing the air while the books began to close, pilling themselves one by one with a swish of purple illuminating the words written in languages Emma did not know. Wisps of energy followed her, filling the air with ozone-like scent.

Regina had been preparing coffee before Emma had knocked, that much was clear when they finally got into the kitchen and its scent reached Emma, dark and soft as the brunette conjured two mugs and poured it from the pot. Her eyes were stormy still but more comfortable as she took one end of the island, sparks following her hands as she grabbed one of the mugs. Comfortability that shed itself to curiosity now as Emma moved towards the counter, not wanting to give any second for Regina to throw her out. Pushing her elbows at the island's surface she touched the mug, its heat warming her still protesting knuckles.  

"Who else?" Emma blinked, lost. Regina prodded, magicking two spoons into their drink and lazily moving hers counterclockwise. "Who else was invited."

The coffee smelled delicious and even if Emma was more prone to sweet things she took on the bitterness of the drink, mimicking Regina's obvious lack of sugar on hers. It was strong, predictably hot as it scalded her tongue.

Regina was asking something else, they both knew it but Emma considered how much did she want to hide and pretend she was not seeing the line of questioning, the real reason for the information that was being requested out of her. It would be easy to play pretend but she felt tired, had been feeling tired, extremely so. Choosing the more honest option, she thought as she kept on glancing down at the mug, the liquid inside, the way Regina kept eyeing her, guarded; it felt like the best answer she was capable of giving.

So she cleared her throat and shrugged, quickly, feeling raw, though, open for a blow a side of her mind warned her with high pitched screams she tried to squash.

"No one beyond us, really. She... Snow wanted for the family to be together." She allowed her words to trail off as she thought back on Snow's wording when she had first mentioned how she wanted for Regina to be there: as Henry's other parent, as a part of her family. 
The possessive pronoun had sounded strange, as if trying it out, still unsure on her mouth. Like maybe being too big, too sharp. Emma had been helping David with Neal, trying to get as much information as possible on what the solstice meant for Snow -or for her for that matter- David had been tightlipped, his own voice dying as her mother had pressed forward, insistent now.
"She also said I could invite Hook"

Emma was sure, sure enough at least, to know that she needn't mention the pirate, that she herself didn't really want to. She had stood in the middle of the apartment, watching her mother as she kept on rocking Neal until David had pried him out of her arms, them both falling at her sides as she mouthed a confused, affronted 'what' Snow had now been able -or had refused to- acknowledge. Not at first that is.

She saw Regina jaw tightening, quick on the response but not quite on the words. 

"I said no, though."

And then Regina looked up, tired, surprised even as Emma denoted with a hint of pride. One that washed over her quickly as the older woman arched a brow, still not throwing her away, still not requesting her to leave.

"Why not?"

And that was the question, wasn't it. Not the question Emma had considered she would be answering to Regina of all people though. Not when they had spent the last few weeks running around with Emma trying to get the brunette to listen to her, for Regina to refuse it every time, for them to be watched by others as they did so, for eyes to follow them as Emma grumbled in frustration, phone number memorized as she hit the call button time and time again. 

She was there now, sitting in front of the brunette now, hands around coffee mug, kitchen island between them, Regina's own hands pressed against its surface -as if taking out some of the power she had clearly absorbed by the blast from before, prickle of electrical dots biting the air around her. Now, she was present. Much more than she had been for the past few weeks: that much she was certain.

"I don't want him there." It was a far too succinct explanation but she did not have anything other to offer without going into a kiss that she felt might have not been the best course of action to take when she had felt alone and despondent, when she had felt guilty and a fraud. When Regina had stared at her, pride and broken edges glimmering through it had been easy to feel that an act born out of hurt pride would be what she needed. Nothing, however, was done within a bubble: actions popped through, thoughts did as well and, as she now pressed her hands against the mug once again, eyes falling, eyeing the way the muscles moved beneath her skin, she felt the taste of regret back again, traveling up her throat, resting just beneath her lips. 

Pressing her thumb against the rim of the mug, staring at the way her skin turned purple, then white an reddish again as she stopped, allowing the blood to flow freely, she forced her mouth to move, sounds that were not quite the ones she wanted to utter escaping her, explanation that felt incomplete but spoke of the need she felt of the older woman to listen, to allow her.... It wasn't just that, though. She had come to deliver a message. One she still needed to do in full. Regina deserved as much.

"Snow said that if you wanted to bring..." shame, shame and guilt and she tried to amend her hesitation. It had felt performative when Snow had said it, had felt stupid and not quite right but her mother had insisted. ("You never know, she might still be talking with him. Fate brought them together after all! Who are we to stand in between true love?") She shuddered.  "She said that if you want to bring a plus one, someone, you could. We have plenty of chairs."

As a merit to Regina, she did not explode, which Emma was thankful for. She didn't really need it, the eerie silence that followed the offer making her shrug on her jacket, noticing the way it had wrinkled at the base of her collar, near the nape of her neck, cloth tightening on her shoulders. Uncomfortable, taut.

When Regina spoke, it's on a lower register than usual, even and cold and full of a difficult tone to extract from, one that made Emma's inner power tingle with uncertainty as she couldn't place where it was born from. One that still grew from shame on herself, guilt that broke forth Emma's own power, white and wispy and not quite strong enough to absorb Regina's own push that grew as she spoke, voice echoing, accented.

"Would prefer if you stop there."

Emma lost her footing "I haven't mentioned... I just..."

"Don't."

Regina drank from her coffee and it's the way she she moved, the way her eyes kept staring forward, still sparkling purple, still promising power in a way that Emma did not yet quite understand and it's been weeks now since Emma did not feel as if her insides were about to combust, that did not feel that she ought to have known better, ought to have been different, maybe.

Did she?

She had gone through her actions back in the past enough times already, the whispers returning each time she went and reworked it, considered it. She knew she would never had left the strange woman  to die: it was not in her nature. Not like this. It would never be like her. And Regina, a voice always whispered, angry and different than her usual one, the one that echoed from deep inside, should understand this better than anyone: Emma would not have left Mariam. It had been impulsive: that much she admitted. She knew how time worked, how easy it was to change things. Magic might escape her, yes, but sci-fi had been one thing she had, sometimes, been able to enjoy: time traveling was a well enough worked trope. She would have saved Marian even if she had known who she was. She knew that, saying otherwise would be untrue.

Yet, had she known what it would all mean beforehand, she would have done it differently. She would have never requested Regina to need to prove to yet another person how she had changed, how she was no longer evil, as if being an event people could gape and gawk and look at , dissecting every single action Regina made, scales forever tipped. It was easy to get strung alone the ways Storybrooke had to deal with those they considered unredeemable, not worthy of trust. Emma found the whole thing a tad unmovable, far too much when it came to black and white. It was easy,  she admitted, comforting, to see the world in such a way, to allow others to claim that evil and good were forces one was born onto. As long as one was born within the light, of course, within those accepted forces. It was enchanting, must be, to know you would never do evil in the way that would mar  you forever. Not as long as their story kept on writing you as light, as good, as benevolent. 

And so she had asked for the impossible, feigning to not see Regina's doubt when nodding along the need to be shown to Marian, the way she had squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the glances, the comments, the memories of the woman she had been.

"What do you want me to say?"

It came more angry than expected. Stubborn. And Regina's face twisted once more before Emma had the time to explain -explain what, her brain whispered, that you should have given her some grace?

"You meddled with things that needn't be meddled with. And then you did nothing. What do you expect me to say?."

It hurt. In a way that Emma was not entirely sure why: she had been placating when following Regina, when trying to make her understand that she had not wanted to hurt her. It had been for naught though and was what had pushed her into a stupid situation with Hook. And that was not necessarily right either, as she had been the one acting like she had, not Regina. Regina had left and Marian's words had followed her and then Henry had mentioned the possibility of evil and Emma...

Emma had not defended Regina. Not like she had wanted to. Not like she was supposed to. Not when Regina's shoulders had stiffened and her heart had been so painfully obvious as it broke, as she walked away from people that she had saved and helped and aided. And it was too stupid sometimes, to try to talk to them all, inhabitants of a place in where acts of true love where things that could happen. In where fate -of all things- was real enough for some to consider it the only thing that it mattered. As if some stupid word from some idiotic book hold more water than actions and words and memories stored in a spell.

Because she was ashamed. So ashamed. And so guilty. And so jealous.

The last thought brought her to full height, circling the kitchen's island before she was conscious of it as Regina twisted her torso so she was facing her but not quite standing upright, not yet anyway. Jealousy was a concept Emma did not want to work with: how could she? How would she? She had come back to Storybrooke with the melody of magic she was much more unsure of than she would have prior. She had had dreams of moons being moved, of promises of a past that would not led themselves to a future. 
Only to be back to a world and a life that felt just slightly off-centered, as if she had already arrived to late for it all.

And it might be the lack of proper sleep those past few nights. The guilt of it all, the anger bubbling or the fact that she thought Robin, of all people, should be free to meddle with: he did not deserve more time, he did not deserve Regina. 

The "I'm sorry" was met with a nod, despondent and tired and it did not feel enough. And that was what doomed her: pride, pride again. "Where does that leave us then?" She was not screaming but her words were still harsh, she knew that, but she felt the muscles on her neck straining nevertheless and Regina narrowed her eyes in response. "Are you just going to keep running away?" The 'from me' was implied, explicit even as her lips remain parted. 

And Emma needed to give it to Regina: she did not back down. 

"I was not running away from you." There, explicit, and she almost blushed, with hands still firmly pressed downwards, body twisted, position giving Emma an edge in terms of height. Height Emma blinked at before backing away just slightly so she was able to see at the way the older woman eyed her, the same look she had given her outside the diner: defeat. What was, maybe, what hurt the most: If someone like Regina was not able to see beyond pre-written lines what good would she be able to do? How much would she be able to change?

She pushed, she needed to. She owned it to herself. Even if her words felt glass on her mouth as she spoke: "I know when you are lying to me. You know that."

A heartbeat, a flash of purple light and then Regina's voice rising, vowels shortening. "As you know you are lying to yourself with that stupid pirate now?"

And they attacked the other and Emma was used to it, to Regina's anger, to the brunt of it. It was a place she was able to recognize, that would love to stay if it meant for Regina to keep on talking.  And then the words hit her, fully. 

And she saw red. 

Despite knowing she had very little to defend. Despite knowing it was not even the main reason why it hurt, the main reason why she wished for something different, as unshaped as that was.

Because Hook was not the point of conversation, it never had been between them. And now, like with everything else, it all seemed to revolve around his presence, it's claim and feelings. And while good to feel desired, wanted, how that would have shaped when Emma's first memory back had been of the woman that now -yes- stood to full height, taking a step, a single one, that made Emma glance down before averting her eyes again.

How much would she give to be wanted differently. By someone else.

"You don't know the half of it." Gritted teeth, empty words. Ones Regina saw right through them. 

"True, I don't know a single thing of your relationship with him, nor how you are settling for him because you think that's what you deserve."

And that was, well, far too close to everything for Emma to be able to reply with anything other than a weak "That not how it is." that had Regina scoffing once more, with scar on her lip taut as she forced and pushed each word, jaw working, furious and each word quick and slicing.

"Then how it is, Emma?" And Emma could feel her own eyes widening at the use of her name. Her name, not her surname, not anything else, the drawl on the 'm's, the way Regina herself seemed almost surprised before she continued. "Are you going to keep playing pretend with him?" And that hurt again because Emma felt like she could ask that very same question as well. Regina had spoken of a future she had been working towards: had truly been him the future she envisioned for herself? Was him, really, the person that made her the happiest version of herself? Regina's next sentence came venomous, darker "Maybe you should invite him to dinner, get married next year."

Which each word Regina moved slightly closer, pushing Emma against the kitchen's island almost and Emma recoiled at the mental image she was being forced to conjure: a family, a big one but with empty, vacant eyes. She had wanted to stay. No other place like home she had said. But how much of what had been a different kind of family, a different kind of choice.

It was almost comical, or would be if the image picture inside her brain did not give her such grief. She had seen Snow, has felt her eyes, the way she was waiting for her to make an announcement, as in love with the idea of destiny as she was. 
So maybe her response should have been to her rather than Regina but she was close, closer than she had originally being and the scent of her magic made her swallow, tongue thick and slow and stupid.
"What are you even on about? I told, I said no to Hook" She bared her teeth, feeling power emanating from her wrists, coiling around her veins. "I'm here asking you!" Which was true, wasn't it. Not like that, maybe. Or...

Regina froze

"To Hook" she chuckled, hurt and short and Emma bit down her tongue, stupid stupid tongue. "So he also asked" It was not a question then and Emma knew she didn't really have the space to dance around it any longer. 

Still felt defensive, as if being studied under a microscope she knew would not paint her under the best light if she did not squirm, did not defend herself. Even if it was the tiniest amount.

"Why does it matter?" He had, had mentioned that it could be a good thing, to show both of her parents that they were serious, that he could 'clean up nicely'. Emma had felt sick at the idea of Snow beaming at her, Hook in hand next to her with the absence of Regina at Henry's other side being all that much louder, more present, more obvious. 

And so, when she had said no to Hook and Snow had mentioned Regina again Emma had felt it as if a signal, one obvious enough for her to move and hope that the older woman would say yes. It felt better, grounded, warm, to consider the idea of dinner with Regina there, present, without the overcomplication of a man that was so desperate to be considered family as she cut parts of her that he was willing to go without, a mold that she had felt closing in whenever others asked about him now, asking where he was when he wasn't glued to her, wondering eyes and questions about a relationship that squeezed and prodded her into a shape she did not recognize. Regina would never ask of her to be someone else, a voice had whispered and kept on whispering as the brunette pushed her weight against the edge of the counter, the liquid of their abandoned coffee mugs still fogging the air up.

Amidst all the responses Regina picked the one she least expected. "Careful there, seems like you are replacing his seat now." short smile, eyes focused, something glimmering at the back of them. Something Emma could sworn she had seen before. 

Pride, pride would always do them in.

"That's not true." It was a weird collocation, the way the words came out and Emma was vaguely aware of the blush dusting her cheeks as she kept on speaking. Because how dared Regina to say such thing, how did she dare to compare herself to Hook when...

"I don't want him to come. I want you there, Regina. And Henry does too. I don't know how clearer I can make this be."

They were close, too close maybe. The  thought reached her brain too late. Had been a long time since they had been so few inches away from the other and Emma could feel her magic climbing through her veins, dirty white sparks finally breaking through her skin, painful as they coiled and moved and bounced off of her, calling forth Regina's wisps, her own power responding in tandem, without a doubt, without a fail. And Emma wondered, briefly, if her eyes were as alight as Regina's suddenly were dirty white sparks  breaking through her skin, painful as they coiled and moved and bounced off her, calling forth Regina's wisps, her own power responding in tandem but softer. 

Because she wasn't making it all that clear, wasn't she? She was hoping to remain in less illuminated corners, those that would allow her some space to stretch her muscles, to reach for fingers as coated in magic as hers were. Because she still remembered the mines, still remembered the magical trigger, the way she had promised a togetherness that was not all that distant for her.

And yet, Regina seemed to be willing for her destiny to be with Robin. With a man Emma did not know. Did not wish to know. 

"Please, come." It came out as a plea and she sighed as the older woman moved away now, distancing herself, face unreadable. 

Jealous, so damned, shamefully, jealous.

"You must understand. It's not about Robin. It's about my ability to choose for myself. Being able to." Acceptance. And Emma understood that, she did. She might have wished for difference choices, but she saw the truth there. About the ability of seeing a path rather than end after end. Heck, so many in Storybrooke would still consider Regina unable to move beyond blockades she was not entirely sure were Regina's own doing at this point. "Zelena said something to me" It's a whisper and Emma felt as if she had not heard right for the first moment. "About me not living my life." Quite the non sequitur but she nodded to herself, as if deciding on something before closing her eyes, shoulders tensing momentarily.

Frowning, Emma thought back on when would the redhead had been able to say such a thing. Not that she had much time to consider it, as Regina opened her eyes once more. 

"I don't want to sit close to Snow." She wrinkled her nose. "Or your father." She enunciated the words clearly and Emma was about to reply when she fell silent as Regina grasped her right hand firmly, fingers steady, warm. "Do we have a deal?"

Emma thought she wanted to request more of that 'deal': her seat to be close to hers, the ability to call her her plus one, an invitation, maybe, for something outside the town, an invitation that would be accepted of getting to see New York this time of the year. Or the concept of them getting to know who had indeed written the book so she was able to make it all different, to make it all better. To comply a promise she had made. To maybe ask for selfishness in a way she was still doubtful how to frame. Just so she was able to ask for more. She was slow, though, fingers slipping away, warmth leaving her, magic bubbling before drying once again.

And there had been times that Emma had wondered, of course she had. But it had never been the right time and she felt as if they weren't at it either now. Yet Regina kept eyeing her, thoughtful, gorgeous and Emma wondered, wondered what would have happened if she had been different, if Regina had been different, if she had decided to leave town, if she had asked her to come with her, if she had been asked a different kind of memories when Regina had just looked at her with too much and too little being said and no time at all to ask for whispers that would unravel the moment the majority of the people she had gotten to know would be transported away. What would look like, she thought, what would have looked like, if both Henry and her had also been transported to the Forest. How her curse would have been lifted, how much of her own personhood would have survived.

At the end of the day that was it what they seemed to have. The in-betweens.

She did not think on the movement, nor the strength she needed for it as she moved forward, grasping Regina's hand as the older woman had done, the warmth of her skin bubbling as their magic called the other one forth once again.

"Deal."

And then, the voice, the one that yearned, the one that had been the one pushing her this morning, had been, really, for a long time as she had tried to accept what space could she carve from the nothing that she thought would be best. The voice whispered, muttering on her ear with a similarity to Regina's past version that made Emma shudder how a kiss would have been a better way of closing in on what they wanted. The thought striking her while burning through her synapses. 

Oh well, shit.