Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

Heroes got all the glory and none of the sleep.

So it seemed to Emma Swan as she accepted another glass of wine from Snow. She needed something stronger; wine just made her sleepy. Whiskey sounded pretty good about now, in fact. She could almost taste the familiar burn at the back of her throat.

Unfortunately, Snow White was no connoisseur of hard liquors, or at least she kept none in the apartment, so wine would have to suffice. It did little to ease the tension from her tired muscles.

They had retreated from the crowd at Granny's Diner— an impromptu celebration of their safe return from the Enchanted Forest. Emma, Snow, David, and Henry. The Charming family, together at last with no distractions, no threats, no impending trials, tribulations, or tragedies. Just the four of them. Three generations of a completely normal, run-of-the-mill family enjoying some quality time together.

"Then I shot the ogre right in the face," Snow said. "And to think I was worried my aim might be rusty!"

Well. That illusion didn't last long.

Her chance at a normal life had ended before it began, but she couldn't help pretending even if only for a fleeting moment that their lives were perfectly mundane.

She was afraid she barely knew the meaning of the word anymore.

Emma didn't feel like a Charming— a warrior, a fairytale come to life. She felt like a Swan, and Snow White felt like a friend, a confidant. There had always been something inherently maternal about her, but Emma had taken it for a facet of her personality. That the woman was her own mother… It was difficult to reconcile even now. And David— Charming himself— was not the father she ever imagined, but in his eyes, she could see the father he might have been, had things taken a different path.

Henry called Emma a princess.

Propping a booted foot on her barstool, she drained her glass with a few bobs of her throat.

She certainly didn't feel like a princess.

Snow moved to refill her glass, but Emma waved her away, slumping forward and thunking her forehead down on the cool granite counter. Her eyelids were heavy, and she felt less and less motivated to keep them open.

"We need to discuss something."

Snow spoke in a whisper, throwing a glance at the loft. Henry had been sent to bed some time ago, but with a young boy, prying eyes and perked ears were an expectation. Assured he was asleep, Snow continued in a hushed voice.

"We need to be ready for Cora."

"_What_?" Emma lifted her head from the counter. "She's stuck… back _there_." She waved a hand aimlessly and rubbed her eyes. "Can't we have a few moments of peace? A couple days, maybe?"

"She'll get through, Emma, I know it," Snow said urgently. "She's not the type to give up. This was nothing more than a setback for her— an _annoyance_. I feel like we're going to pay for it."

"Snow's right." Charming sat hunched with his elbows on the counter. His wineglass was untouched. "If she wants through, she'll find a way, and I think we all know what she's after."

"Regina," said Emma.

The three of them shared a glance. Emma sighed, snatched Charming's glass, and took a swig. Her father raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Snow leaned closer, giving the loft another glance. "We need to be prepared for the possibility that they'll team up."

Emma frowned and looked between her parents. "I thought she hated her mother. Why join her now?"

"There's a lot of allure in running back to Mom's open arms," Charming said.

"Cora's a manipulative woman, and things in Storybrooke haven't gone as Regina planned, Emma." Snow laid a hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze— a gesture she'd made many times as Mary-Margaret, yet somehow now felt different, more comforting to Emma, knowing it was her mother's touch. "If Cora offers her the opportunity to makes things better, I think she'll take it."

"Henry said she's trying to change."

"Sometimes people _don't_ change."

"He said she's really making an effort." Emma's jaw tightened at the doubt she saw in their faces. Her frown deepened. "I can't believe she'd just throw that away."

"You don't know her like we do— like _I_ do," Snow said quietly. She leaned in and clasped her daughter's hands. "I _want_ to believe she can change, I really do—"

"Whoa, whoa, hang on." Emma pulled away and pushed back her barstool, rising to her feet. Charming shushed her, and she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "What the hell are you suggesting here? That we _take her out_?"

"No, no, of course not! Nobody's getting hurt. We just need to know exactly what we're up against." Snow looked to Charming, and he nodded. "What _you're_ up against."

"Excuse me?"

"Emma, could you sit back down, please?"

Emma remained standing, arms crossed and eyes hard.

Snow White pursed her lips and sighed. "You have some kind of magic, Emma. Cora couldn't take your heart. You resisted her, and the only way I know how is through magic."

"But I didn't _do_ anything."

"Not actively, not intentionally— but it's in you, and it responded."

"Regina can teach you to control it," said Charming, "and at the same time, you can learn the extent of her magic so we can counter _her_."

Emma arched an eyebrow and lowered her hands to her hips. "You want to use her. While you still can." There was no disapproval in her voice; the look she gave Snow and Charming was accusation enough.

Charming shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, while Snow's gaze dropped to her wineglass, her finger gently tracing the rim.

"We just want to prepare for the worst," Snow said.

"If Regina really has changed, then we'll have two magical powerhouses on our side," said Charming. "If not… well, at least we'll have you."

"And if she finds out we're using her like this? We could drive her right back to Cora ourselves."

"I don't intend to _let_ her find out. In fact, she needs to think this is her own idea," Snow said. "If we suggest she teach you, she'll be suspicious right off the bat."

"With good reason," Emma muttered.

"Emma." Snow White grabbed her arm and tugged her close. Emma held her gaze, but the eyes she met were not the sweet, soft eyes of Mary Margaret; these eyes were cold and determined. Her mother's eyes. "Regina's taken my home from me twice. I won't let it happen again."

Emma glanced at Charming. His face was just as hard.

"Think of Henry," said Snow.

"She's his mother too."

Snow's grip on her arm loosened, and she took Emma's hand more tenderly than the look on her face should have allowed. "Regina can't protect him from herself."

Emma's hands balled into fists. She searched the faces of the parents she didn't know— the man and woman she thought she knew. A clock ticked and the refrigerator hummed loudly in the silence as her resistance fled. Emma pulled away from Snow and grabbed the barstool, sinking back into her seat at the counter.

"What's the plan?"


	2. Chapter 2

Regina was not dependent on magic.

For twenty-eight years, she'd made a life in a world with no magic at all. It hadn't been easy, but Storybrooke had its own comforts, technologies the Enchanted Forest could never have dreamed.

Yet she missed that power. A raw, delicious power commanded by her very will.

The first few weeks were the hardest, a bit like losing a sense or a limb. What she reached for simply wasn't there, and its absence was sorely apparent. Years after placing the curse, she still caught herself attempting magic on reflex; simple things like pulling an object from a shelf or warming chilly hands with a bit of flame. She was always disappointed when the energy failed to flow through her. What was once her power was little more than a distant, fondly-held memory.

But a memory easily recalled.

Since magic had returned, Regina felt an increasing urge to experience that energy again. She made a promise to Henry, however. She'd done well thus far, excluding her lapse with Da—

Well. Her lapse.

A necessity.

Her grip tightened on the pen as she hastily scribbled in a legal pad.

Regina found it best to stay occupied, distracted from the tantalizing allure of magic, from Miss Swan and her troublemaking, from Henry's conspicuous absence. That last was the most difficult to ignore. The silence that pervaded her home was remarkably loud.

So Regina kept herself busy, allowing herself as little idle time as possible. It was easy finding things to do. She had technically been stripped of her mayoral duties, but no one else had stepped up to the job— unless one counted Charming. Which she didn't. The man could barely juggle the responsibilities of the sheriff's office. Was he even aware that the town required more leadership than a prince-turned-cowboy shooting from the hip? She suspected not. All brawn and no brains.

Regina scowled as she wrote.

Kicked out of her office though she was, she continued running the town from her house, behind the scenes, neither heard nor seen. She doubted the vapid residents of Storybrooke even realized that trash pickup would have stopped weeks ago if she hadn't continued paying the sanitation workers from the city's coffers.

Maybe she should stop for a while, see how long it took them to realize the town smelled like garbage.

Regina smiled a little.

Magic wasn't necessary to keep Storybrooke running smoothly. She'd continue as she had for nearly three decades— relying on her own shrewd abilities, whether or not she received the recognition she deserved.

As she reviewed a financial report, Regina's confidence faltered. Her iron will was not quite solid enough to stave off sweating palms and the tingle in her fingertips. Pins and needles ran up and down her arms, a charge waiting to be released.

Magic withdrawal was not uncommon, but— no. She was above this.

She was no woods-dwelling witch, dressed in rags and reading omens in the spilled guts of forest creatures. She was a _sorceress_. She shaped the magic, commanded it— it did _not_ command her.

Regina set the pen down and carefully laid her palms on the table, closing her eyes. She took a slow breath. Her hands left clammy prints on the polished wood.

Still… that brief taste of power the first few days after magic returned was fresh in her mind. Twenty-eight years was a very long time.

Maybe… just a _little_ magic wouldn't hurt.

She lifted her hand— tentatively, as though she didn't trust it— and held it palm upward, fingers curled. A tiny flame blossomed to life, yellow and orange, dim but warm. Her red nails gleamed in its flickering light.

Regina bit her lip as energy rippled up her arm and settled in her chest. She opened her hand and let the flame flare bright, groaning as power coursed through her veins. It was a warmth like the sun after cold, cloudy days, an embrace after years spent alone.

She slumped back in her chair with a contented sigh.

And nearly fell out of it when the doorbell rang.

Regina snapped her hand shut, extinguishing the flame, a wisp of smoke the only evidence of her indiscretion. Jumping to her feet, she smoothed her pants and wished the flush in her cheeks would go away.

For goodness' sake, it was just a bit of magic!

Despite the attempted reassurance, she hesitated in the foyer and took a few breaths to calm her pounding heart. Satisfied that her feathers weren't ruffled, Regina yanked the front door open and promptly arched an eyebrow.

"Miss Swan." She smiled. "To what do I owe this unfortunate surprise?"

"We need to talk about your mother."

Emma Swan slipped past her and into the house with no further greeting.

Regina blinked and shook her head like a startled cat, frowning after the woman.

"I realize she has this effect on people, Miss Swan," she said, shutting the door and following her into the kitchen, "but if you need a therapist, I would hate to steal business from Dr. Hopper."

Emma did not respond and bypassed the kitchen entirely, choosing instead to flop onto the couch in the living room. Regina winced as the sheriff's boots trod on the white carpet.

"_Miss Swan_. Getting you through that portal was _not_ an invitation into my home."

"Your mother has it out for me."

"My mother has it out for _everyone_."

"No, I think specifically me right now." Emma leaned back into the couch cushions, crossing one leg over her knee, and finally seemed to see Regina's irritation. She flicked the bottom of her boot. "What? They're clean."

"It's January in Maine," Regina said tightly. "I guarantee they are _not_."

Emma sighed, but kicked off her boots and carried them to the kitchen, dropping them on the hardwood floor. "Better?" she asked, returning to the couch.

"'Better' would be your ability to show some manners, Miss Swan." Regina crossed her arms and loomed over her. "Do your parents know you're out at this time of night?"

"You make it sound like I'm ten."

"You _act_ ten. No wonder you and Henry get along so well."

Emma smiled wryly at that, then cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. "Mary Margaret and David are, uh… getting reacquainted. I'm kind of afraid to go back to the apartment."

Regina hid a smirk. "Well, you're not staying here."

"No, I know. I'll head over to Granny's for the night— Henry's there too." Emma leaned forward and knit her hands together. "Seriously, though, we need to talk. I think you'll wanna hear me out."

Regina eyed the younger woman for a moment, then settled onto the couch a respectable distance from her. "I'm listening. What makes you think my mother has a personal grudge against _you_?"

"She couldn't take my heart."

"… pardon me?"

Emma anxiously rubbed her hands together and shot Regina a nervous look. There was genuine concern in her eyes. "Just before we came through the portal, she tried to rip out my heart. _Tried_. She couldn't. Something stopped her."

"Describe how it felt."

"Uh, why?" Emma narrowed her eyes. "Does my pain amuse you?"

Regina smiled sweetly. "That's just a bonus. Now, whatever stopped Cora— what did it feel like?"

"I don't know. Like…" Emma rolled her shoulders and tilted her head. "Like she was trying to fit a square peg through a round hole. No matter how much she pulled, it wouldn't budge. She seemed surprised."

"I imagine she was…" Regina relaxed a little, reclining into the cushions. This was something to think about. "Anything else? What did she do after that?"

"Well, not much, 'cause I kind of… blasted her backwards."

Regina sat up straight. "You _what_?"

Emma gave an awkward grin and shrugged. "It was like a pulse of energy. It totally blew Cora off her feet."

Regina sat forward and snapped her fingers in Emma's face, wiping the grin from her lips. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened. _Everything_ you said, _every_ action you made."

She recognized the look on Emma's face; she'd seen it many times when she was Queen. Even without magic, her voice had a certain intensity that made others listen and obey. But where most people cowered and accepted her authority, Emma's reaction quickly shifted to annoyance.

Perhaps it was because they were closer to equals than she'd care to admit.

"Chill out, Scrooge McDuck. Jesus." Emma glared until Regina backed down. "Cora was about to attack Mary Margaret, but I jumped in front of her, so she got me instead. She laughed and said love was weakness, but couldn't take out my heart. She didn't find that as funny." Emma smirked. "I told her love is strength, then— _fwoosh_. Power surge."

Regina stared at the sheriff, completely unreadable, until Emma frowned and squirmed under her gaze.

"Well? Come on, you're the expert here. What was that?"

"I don't believe it," Regina mumbled to herself.

"What? What did I do?"

"_Magic_. You performed white magic."

"What the hell is white magic?"

A smile quirked the corner of Regina's mouth. "A very powerful ally."

"Why?" Emma asked. "I couldn't even control it."

"Because, Miss Swan— white magic doesn't have a price tag attached."

And that could be a game-changer, she thought but didn't say.


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Drama, Romance