The Way

Chapter Twenty

Emma leaned her head against the steering wheel of the Bug, her mind swirling with thoughts of what had just occurred. One moment she had been certain Regina was reverting and wanted to kill her, and the next she had kissed her! Which extreme was it? The blonde lifted her head and groaned.

And why had she been so stupid as to almost...almost...give in and enjoy it?

This is a new low, even for you, Swan, Emma thought to herself as she exited the Bug and made her way into her parents' loft. And you thought Neal was a bad idea...

Still, as she slipped silently up the stairs and into her bedroom, Emma couldn't help but wonder at the reaction they'd both had to the gesture. If that was what it had been in reaction to, of course. Something told her it had been, and Emma felt herself shiver involuntarily.

She'd be a liar if she claimed to have never considered the possibility that she and Regina were connected by more than just their son and a troubled family history. From the moment she'd met her, the woman had intimidated the hell out of her, and even now, more than a year later, that hadn't changed much. The difference now was that the woman confused Emma a lot more than she ever had when she was only out to kill her. Still, there had been a certain level of attractiveness that came with the passion Regina always held for her many goals. Emma had seen it the day she'd cut down the woman's precious apple tree, when Regina had only lifted her lips into a challenged, excited sort of smile instead of murdering her on the spot. She'd seen it the day in the hospital when she'd slammed her up against the lockers and demanded to know the truth about the curse, when Regina's head had fallen back against the metal and her eyes had looked into Emma's and really seen her for the very first time. And, as long as she was being honest with herself, she'd even seen it that day at the well, when Regina had gathered her feet beneath her and issued her a remarkably genuine "Welcome back." As Emma planted herself face down in her pillow and half-heartedly smothered herself, she let another groan pass through her lips.

There had been no almost about enjoying that kiss. No almost at all.

Once again, Regina Mills had worked her magic, and Emma was loathe to turn her away.

But what would Henry think?

"Are you okay Mom?" Henry asked later that morning as he saw his adoptive mother attempting to pour herself a cup of coffee, but her hands shook too much to do so without spilling any. He watched as Regina, flustered, scoffed in offense and, in a very non-graceful way, chucked the entire mug into the sink from three feet away. She replaced the carafe and then turned to face her son with the heels of her palms leaning on the counter behind her. Henry only raised his eyebrows at her, taking notice of how tired she looked. "Have you been having nightmares again? I thought they'd stopped since you got Emma out of there."

"No nightmares this time," his mother issued, and he waited expectantly for her to continue. "I'm afraid this might be a bit more serious."

"More serious than your magic lashing out at Emma because of your nightmares?"

Regina sighed, and the boy surmised she was deliberating with herself on how much she should tell him.

"It's my heart, Henry. It is...hurting. Like it was before we rescued Miss Swan...but this time, somehow, its different, and I'm not sure how or why."

Henry took a couple swallows of his orange juice and then set it back on the table. He studied it for a moment, watching bits of pulp slide down the inside and back into the liquid below them. Then he stood up, retrieved a mug, and he himself poured his mother her cup of coffee. She took it from him gratefully, tugging him close and kissing the top of his head for good measure. Offended only because his age demanded he be so, he wriggled away and mirrored her stance by leaning against the island behind him.