Cinnamon
Regina's heart stopped. She reached for the page, feigning confusion. "You came at midnight to show me an old page?"
Emma face turned to stone and she pulled the page back, probing dark eyes. She repeated the question, more seriously this time. "Do you know what it is?"
"No." Regina looked directly into Emma's eyes, disgusted by the ease at which the lie left her lips, "but leave it with me. I'll find out."
Emerald eyes continued to assess her for a long, hesitant second before Emma surrendered the page to her lap. "Okay," Emma said, apparently satisfied with her answer, "Next question, do you have a VCR?"
Re-establishing her cool countenance, Regina swallowed the acrid taste of self-reproach, leaving it to corrode her insides. "I've been here since the eighties, what do you think?"
Emma viewed the home video for the second time from Regina's bed, turning a silver ring around her thumb, tracing the hard edges of its blue stone with her finger. The ring was fake and of no importance to her, but she had kept it for the memory. She was six and it was the first thing she had ever stolen. She owned so few things, and fewer things as pretty as the imitation topaz. The oldest daughter of her foster family would parade the shiny ring around for the sole purpose of teasing her. The bigger girl would also beat her at every unsupervised opportunity. She would sit atop her squirming body and press the cheap metal into her flesh, indenting her skin until she finally screamed.
She knew not to snitch, it was her twentieth home after all and she desperately wanted to stay until the end of first grade; her classmates were nice enough and her teacher had kind eyes. When the girl had stuck gum in her hair, burying it so deep within the thick strands that the sticky, pink, congealed mess had to be shorn off, she had cried. The kids at school had teased her for the buzzcut and she cried again. The following night she had pried the ring from sleeping fingers and hidden it under a loose floorboard. The pure, vindictive pleasure she derived from watching her torturer search the entire house for her prized possession was well worth the risk, even when she was transferred to another home a week later.
Emma was roused from the past by a sharp intake of breath on her left; her former foster Mother entered the frame. A warm hand encircled her wrist and slid downwards, fingers gently wedging themselves between her clasped hands and stilling her motion with the ring. She looked at their hands, at Regina's thumb rubbing the top of her hand.
Heavy with the memories of a life barely survived, Emma's head came to rest on Regina's shoulder. She felt the gentle sting of tears begin to clog her nose and, without warning, they escaped her tightly shut lids, gathering in a shallow pool at the bridge of her nose until they finally spilled over.
Regina felt wetness tickle her collar bone and moved slowly, drawing Emma into her arms. They remained like this for a long time, Regina only mildly aware of the passing time by the faint popping of a dwindling fire and the sound of waning sobs at her chest. And though she was on the cusp of unravelling herself, Regina held Emma close, somehow finding comfort in the warm, wordless embrace.
Regina was the first to break the silence, chuckling lightly into Emma's hair. "Cinnamon."
"What?" Emma choked, laughing quizzically through evaporating tears. She heard the deep inhalation of breath through Regina's chest.
"You smell like cinnamon," Regina exhaled softly, "I'd been wondering for a while."
Stirred from a pleasant sleep by melodic chirping, Emma woke with a wide yawn. She stretched her arms and legs, gliding across sheets of luxuriously soft cotton that, she had no doubt, were upwards of a thousand count. They were not however, as soft as the body she had fallen asleep on. Catching herself grinning from the memory, Emma stiffened mid-stretch. She cracked an eyelid open - the one which was not buried in downy pillow - and scanned her blurry surroundings: Regina's room but no Regina.
Freshly showered and dressed in a set of loose pants and singlet that had presumably been laid out for her, Emma padded quietly into the hall. She heard the familiar upbeat rhythm of Henry's cooking playlist float upstairs, along with the sizzle of a buttered pan. Turning away from the music, she wandered down the hall.
"In here," Regina's voice called from behind closed door, "It's unlocked."
Emma entered what looked to be a guest bedroom and was met with a sight that wrested both thought and breath. Seated on the far side of a bed with her back to her was Regina, her scantily clad figure eclipsed the hazy morning light that spilled from an open window. Emma averted her gaze as Regina spun a white, collared shirt about her shoulders and pulled her arms through long sleeves, but not before she traced the falling line of her spine with her eyes and, just above the waistband of black, embroidered lace, glimpsed shallow dimples indenting her lower back.
"Did that incessant chirping wake you?" said Regina buttoning her shirt, eyeing a bird's nest outside with the casual scorn of someone robbed of years of Saturday morning sleep. "Pass me those pants please," she added over her shoulder.
"Yes - I mean, no, not really." Emma fumbled with the hanger on the door. She handed a pair of pressed pants to Regina's expectant hand, cursing her pale skin for exposing her hot blush to dark, amused eyes. "Sorry about last night, I didn't mean to burden you with all my baggage."
"Don't mention it," Regina said in a manner too business-like for state of undress. She tucked her shirt in and stalked over to Emma, leaning close, "I have one more question though, about your box."
"My box?" Emma's voice cracked like a teenage boy. Regina nodded and drew closer still, near enough for the scent of her to diffuse into the small space between them. If it were possible, Emma thought she smelled like a memory – of breakfast specifically – a hint of coffee bean and sweet syrup with a musky, wildflower bass note that was uniquely her own.
Regina reached above Emma's head to retrieve a belt from a hook on the back of the door. "Yes, in the shoebox there were stickers. Used stickers."
"Oh," Emma scratched the back of her neck, unsure whether she should tell the truth. She didn't want be on the receiving end of the expression she had come to know very well, what she called pity face. "I reused them. I stuck the same stickers, in the same position on all my beds, that way it seemed like-"
"You always had the same one," Regina finished, a vacant expression painted her face.
"Yeah. I used to get really attached to people, at first it was to my foster parents or siblings, then it was friends and then after a while, don't know when exactly, I didn't care about losing people. I got attached to stupid things like being the school photographer or being on the softball team. And when they were gone, the only constant was the stickers and I promised myself that one day, when I got out, I wouldn't even need them."
"And you don't anymore."
"No," Emma smiled brightly, "I don't."
"I'm glad," Regina nodded wearing a thoughtful countenance which seemed as though she was acknowledging something within herself.
Regina wiped the flour dust from her fingers on the clean tea towel draped over her shoulder before answering the knock at the front door.
"Hi Regina, is Emma here?" Charming said breathlessly, Elsa close behind him, "Her car's outside."
"She's in the kitchen," Regina replied, "but I hardly -"
"Thanks." Charming didn't wait for another word. He kicked off his boots and touched her arm lightly as he marched past, leaving Regina to question what break in her own personality had made him feel comfortable enough to enter without invitation. With no choice but to follow him, she ushered Elsa quickly inside.
"Wow kid, don't tell your Grandpa but these are way better than his," Emma said, smacking her lips in satisfaction and patting her pancake stuffed belly.
"Well you both helped too, thank-you," he replied, puffing his chest out slightly, looking quite proud of himself for a moment before his face fell when he looked towards the approaching footsteps.
"He's behind us, isn't he?" Emma said to Henry, who confirmed with a nod.
"First you don't answer my calls and now you're berating my pancakes," David said with a chipper laugh, clapping both Emma and Henry on the back, "Good morning."
"Morning Grandpa," Henry said, "Hi Elsa."
"Hi, sorry, I must've turned my phone off last night," Emma said, moving to the sink with her syrup splayed plate, "Henry, do you mind grabbing it from your Mom's room?"
Henry hopped of the stool. "Sure."
"Regina's room," David repeated slowly, brows creased in confusion, surveying the apron and clothes that obviously didn't belong to Emma.
"Oh and her dress please Henry," Regina called after him.
"Your dress?" Charming questioned, squinting at Emma, then Regina and back at his daughter again, as if it helped in deducing the missing information.
"Yeah, I slept here last night," Emma explained simply.
"Not to worry Charming, I can be quite accommodating," Regina said lowly, popping a raspberry into her mouth, sucking on its sweet acidity. She moved behind Emma to slowly tug the ties at the back of her apron loose, sporting a devilish smirk at the look of complete bewilderment that suffused his face.
"What?" Emma said, finally comprehending the innuendo she roughly nudged Regina's shoulder with her own, "She's kidding."
Running his hand through his hair, David let out an uncomfortable laugh while Elsa looked between the three of them, smiling perceptively. "Ok, anyway, we have a lead," David said, "Robin's men have found an abandon ice-cream truck in the forest."
Emma passed the apron strap over her head. "Ok, but I need to swing by my place, I don't have a change of clothes," she said gesturing over her outfit as Henry returned from upstairs with her things.
With a wave of her hand, Regina transformed the plain clothes into Emma's normal, utilitarian attire. "Go, I'll take Henry to Snow and meet you there."
"Wow, you really have to show me how to do that sometime," Emma said, adjusting her grey sweater. She followed the others out the front door, noting an unusual tightness to her favourite jeans.
"Maybe when we're not chasing after everyone's former family members," Regina agreed.
Emma pulled on her jacket and started down the path. She turned back and waved, "I'll hold you to it."
Regina leaned against the open door frame and watched the trio walk to the street, admiring the appealing alteration she had made to dark jeans.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Swan," Killian said, leading Emma by the hand to a nearby tree stump. He sat beside her, rubbing free wet soil wedged between the heel of each boot against a raised tree root.
"Me too," Emma agreed, flicking through the Snow Witch's collection of Swan-related memorabilia.
He felt Emma's hand slip from his grasp as Regina exited the recently plundered ice-cream van to join them.
"And the award for stalker of the decade goes to the Ice Queen," Regina announced, peering over Emma's shoulder.
Killian's jaw went limp with shock. Emma was clearly very sensitive about her childhood and he couldn't fathom how Regina could be so insensitive about the matter. He turned, shooting daggers in Regina's direction.
"Says the woman who hired someone to gather boxfuls of information on me," Emma fired back without missing a beat.
"Technically, I never paid him," Regina simpered under her breath.
Killian was bemused by the quiet laugh the exchange elicited from Swan, and even more so when it earned a light smack to Regina's arm with the bundled pages.
Their investigation had run cold as fast as a shot across the bows. Killian hoped Belle and Elsa were having better luck researching as he trekked back to David's car, feet sinking into the muddy ground with each step. From the elevated, mountainous range, through a break in a curtain of wide leaves and morning mist, Killian could see the open ocean and its infinite azure horizon. He missed the sound his boots made on a freshly scrubbed deck, the feel of the salty wind on his back, but with one glimpse back at Emma, the nostalgia instantly melted away. There was a lightness about her today; she was happy, and he was too.
After interviewing several men from Robin's crew who had first discovered the ice-cream truck, Emma pocketed her notepad and made her way through their camp to the trail leading back to her Bug. She spied Regina, not far from the camp's perimeter. Her forehead rested on a bent arm which in turn rested on the deeply striated bark of a cedar tree. Her whole body shook; Emma couldn't tell whether she was laughing or crying.
She approached slowly and lay a cautionary hand on her shoulder. "Regina?"
Regina tipped her head back in abandoned laughter, the tracks of fresh tears on her cheeks glinting in the sunlight. "He loves me," Regina exclaimed incredulously, "That man, that sweet, kind man loves me and do you know what I said?"
The question was not directed to Emma, but instead to a spot just over her shoulder. It was an uncomfortable sight and Emma stood silent, an invisible witness to the cracking of her hard, polished exterior.
"I told him to leave because I don't know which I loved more: him or the thought of him," Regina continued to laugh hysterical cackles bursting from the back of her throat, "And in the end it doesn't even matter because his wife is lying in my study. The same woman I contemplated killing, because that's the kind of person I am."
Emma extended an open palm and took a trepidatious step closer. Regina made no effort to move, so she took a firm hold of her arm, her existence finally registering in clouded, chestnut eyes.
"No." Regina retreated, contorting her body away from her grasp and sweeping her arm away.
Moved by overwhelming instinct, Emma came closer again, absorbing a battery of jarring shoves to her shoulders as she tugging the flailing woman to her. She wrapped a steadying arm around Regina's waist and hugged her shaking body, her other hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. Regina held on to her tightly. Emma heard the exhale of a ragged breath before Regina began to cry, the stifled wails soon seeping into the fabric of her sweater.
"Thank you," Regina said after a long time, her head wedged between Emma's head and shoulder. She sniffed and raised a hand to wipe her tears away.
Emma rubbed her back for a moment. "Anytime," she replied, "Do you want to go pick up Henry now?"
Regina nodded into Emma's neck.
"Ok," Emma said softly, pulling back, "Let's go."
The heavy heap of books released by Elsa landed on the backseat of the Bug with a great thud. Emma closed the rusty door shut with a forceful, creaky swing and rested her weight against the old car.
"She's insane," Elsa concluded, "My aunt is insane."
Together with Belle and Killian, they had spent the last few day lit hours scouring over all things Arendale in the library and made some disturbing discoveries about the Snow Queen.
"If she thinks she can go around collecting family members like dragon balls, definitely," Emma agreed, "And once she uses her mirror to cast this smashed curse or whatever the hell Belle said, it looks like we'll be the only sane ones left."
Elsa sighed, joining Emma by the side of the car to watch Belle and Killian turn off the lights, her gaze locked sadly on the shady rows of shelves.
"I'm sorry about your sister. We'll find out what happened to her." said Emma solemnly.
Elsa cleared her throat awkwardly. "You and Regina seem to have made up," she said, changing the subject.
"You could say that."
"Were you lovers?" Elsa asked curiously.
Elsa mistook Emma's dazed expression as something else and continued, "I mean in the past of course. Not now, obviously."
"What? No! Regina and I aren't, I mean we weren't ever. We aren't - no." Emma let out an exasperated breath, "She has Robin."
"And you're with Killian," Elsa stated bluntly.
Emma observed Hook, standing by the library door, bent in an awkward position while he battled closing a large padlock with his good hand, "Yes, I am."
"But you dally with her."
Reaching behind to scratch her suddenly, very itchy neck, Emma laughed. "Remind me again, are you from Arendale or did you just step out of an Austen novel. Dally with her, please."
"Just so you know, she reciprocates," Elsa said, one arm resting across the roof, analysing her reaction.
Emma closed her eyes briefly, contemplating the evidence for her speculation. She thought of this morning, of Regina's dishabille bathed in light, the simple pleasure of preparing breakfast together with Henry and the comfort of her company. She was almost certain that the way she felt under the intensity of Regina's gaze was incomparable to Killian. However, she also remembered holding her and supporting the weight of her grief as she trembled in her arms. Emma shook her head of the thoughts. They were friends, she concluded, good friends. She made her way around to the driver's side as Hook approached them and smiled wearily. "Just get in the car, Elsa."