A Regrettable Deception

As always, SwanQueen is endgame... After Emma's cover is blown and Regina is done being pissed, anyway. Heartbreak first, happy endings later. ;)

"I found them."

"August…"

"It's them, Emma. I found them."

Emma sighs, closing her eyes and dropping her forehead against the wheel, one hand pressing the phone to her ear and the other clutching at a stale takeout coffee. She can almost hear August's palpable excitement over the line, just like the last eighteen times he's called to tell her that he's found them.

"I'm parked in the middle of nowhere in the pissing rain, staking out a freaky-ass motel at two in the morning, and you think this is a good time to try this shit?" Irritation bleeds through her voice and she can't help it. She's tired, hungry, and desperate for a lead on the scumbag she's supposed to be tracking down. She doesn't need her adoptive brother trying to raise her hopes - yet again - over having finally located their lost family.

"It's not- damn it, listen, Emma! It's really them! I found them! This is the real deal!"

"Yeah, you said that the last eighteen times, too. Ever think that we're just not meant to find them until I turn twenty eight? The prophecy was specific for a reason."

"But the-"

"August," she snaps out. "I turn twenty eight in six months. We'll find them after my birthday. Right now, I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I would like to finish this damned job so I can get paid and go back to my apartment, so please…"

She doesn't even bother finishing her sentence; doesn't have to. August has been with her for her entire life - he's been her loyal guardian ever since they came through the wardrobe into this world (though some days she can't help but wonder if he's just bat-shit crazy and she's an idiot for believing his stories about her being some sort of fairytale Savior) - and they've mastered the art of understanding each other's tones of voice and body language. He just sighs loudly in her ear, knowing when to back down.

"Fine. When you're done, can you come home?"

Home. Yet another word that has a different meaning to them. Home isn't the tiny apartment she's been renting in the city, nor is it the modest little townhouse that August has in Boston. Home is them, together, and she knows that means she'll be the one traveling to him again.

"Yeah, alright," she huffs, staring blearily through her windshield at the motel across the road. "I've gotta go, August."

"Be safe, Em."

"Always am," she mutters, hanging up as soon as she hears his little bark of laughter.

"Table for one?"

"No." Emma shakes her head absently at the hostess, gazing across the lounge for a familiar face. "He's already here." Without waiting for a reply, she heads right in, having spotted her brother's leather jacket-clad form at their usual table by the far windows. August found this place when they first moved to Boston in their early twenties, and he claimed the window view of the city below was great muse for his writing. Emma just enjoys a good hot cocoa and a muffin in a classy, high-rise lounge restaurant. (Especially when August is paying.) She's halfway across the room when his Emma-senses alert him to her presence, and then he's on his feet and striding to meet her.

"Hey, brat," he greets, a grin splitting his face as he catches her up in a bear hug, lifting her clear off her feet. Emma grunts and laughs, squeezing an arm around the back of his neck, always happy to see him no matter how irritated they can get with each other. He sets her back on her feet and they drop into their seats; Emma's pleased to find a mug of hot cocoa with cinnamon waiting for her.

"How did your job go?" He asks, as she scoops up a glob of whipped cream with her finger and licks it off. Emma narrows her eyes at him.

"Let's just get right to it, I know you're dying to. Go on, make your case. The floor is yours, Pinocchio." She makes a 'go ahead' motion with her arms, having spotted the manilla envelope next to his plate when she'd first sat down. August smirks and picks it up.

"You wouldn't believe who outed the location."

"Oh?"

"The Evil Queen herself."

Emma's brows jump as August begins pulling out paperwork. "The Evil Queen? How? She hid them all. She's the reason we haven't been able to find anyone."

"Well it looks like Her Majesty was getting bored and lonely in her hidden, cursed little town." August slides a sheet of paper across the table to her. Emma surveys it with doubtful green eyes, cocking her head to one side as confusion crosses her face.

"What is this? An adoption form?" She knows damn well what it is; she and August used to hope that one of their kinder foster families would fill one out and adopt them both. It never happened, of course, and once August turned eighteen, they'd both snuck away to live on their own, having given up hope on any semblance of a stable life. Besides, they had fairytale characters to track down.

"She's trying to adopt a child. But look at the name and address."

Emma's eyes flicker to the information section, taking in the elegant cursive.

Regina Mills. Storybrooke, Maine.

"Storybrooke," Emma repeats, as if it's the worst pun she's ever heard. If this is the real deal, she wants to know what the heck the Evil Queen was thinking, giving the town a name like that. Talk about on-the-nose.

"Regina," August stresses, tapping his finger firmly on the paper. "Everyone called her the Evil Queen but I heard your mother call her by name once or twice. It was Regina. This has got to be her; Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke. Did you know that Storybrooke's not even on a map? I've Googled it. It literally doesn't exist."

Emma purses her lips, staring down at the paper like she's still not quite sure what to think. August had found promising leads in the past but they'd all led to dead ends, and those usually ended with the two of them getting wasted at a bar, drowning their sorrows in alcohol. What made this time any different? What if they ended up in some hick town and this Regina Mills was just some nobody who had absolutely nothing to do with them? She didn't want her heart to break for a nineteenth time. It was getting harder and harder, to track down these leads - hoping to find her family, her parents - and getting nothing but disappointment in the end.

"August," she sighs, and her brother already knows what that sound means.

"Emma, please, we have to try," he pushes.

"We've tried so many times already. Why can't we just wait? The prophecy said it would happen on my twenty eighth birthday. We just have to wait six more months and then fate or whatever will lead us to them. Can't you just relax and enjoy it?"

"And do what? Work a nine-to-five job to pay the rent? Binge watch Netflix? Take a college class? I want to go home, Emma. To my papa, to your parents. Our home. I don't want to wait anymore. If there's a chance we can find them right now, why shouldn't we?"

Emma goes quiet, staring down into her now lukewarm cocoa. She has multiple reasons, and August knows all but one. That one is too personal and, frankly, too embarrassing to admit.

"Please," August coaxes, his voice softening. "Just one more try, Emma. One last time. And if I'm wrong, we stop searching, and we'll wait for the prophecy to fulfil itself."

Emma lifts her head to meet pale blue eyes, his gaze begging. Her shoulders shift as she sighs, glad that her last paycheck was a big one. Gas was expensive.

"Fine. What's the plan?"

The drive to Maine isn't as terrible as she thought it would be. In fact, she and August haven't had a road trip in so long that she actually finds she's enjoying herself, as long as she doesn't think too long about their destination. They stop at several roadside locations for hot dogs and bathroom breaks, and August even splurges and buys her a pretty little pendant necklace from a local gift shop when she'd dragged him inside to browse. It's a silver swan on a sterling silver chain, and a little gold crown with an embedded green jewel sits atop the swan's head. Emma wears it immediately and vows to never take it off, which has her brother grinning, looking all too pleased with himself.

They're driving down a long, endless road with nothing but forestry on all sides when Emma huffs and rotates a stiff wrist. "How much farther? We're gonna have to stock up on gas and some food at the next pit stop if I have to drive through the night."

"Not much farther. Your wrist wouldn't be so stiff if you had let me drive some of the way."

"No one drives my baby."

"I let you drive my bike!"

"That's your choice." Emma smirks and sticks her tongue out at him. August snorts, readjusting the map across his lap and tracing his fingers along the bright red line he'd drawn in with a marker.

"It's somewhere along this road. I assume there's some sort of enchantment on the place since normal people drive right through without stopping. We shouldn't be affected though, since we're not from this world."

"Right," Emma murmurs, twitching a brow and saying nothing more. August is in no mood to argue, so he shuts his mouth and they continue on in silence.

An hour later, the road still has no end in sight and Emma's chewing on her lower lip anxiously. "August," she begins, weary.

"Keep going," he simply says, eyes ahead.

"We've been going down this road for almost two hours. We're going to reach the other side of Maine at this rate."

"Keep going, Emma."

She counts to ten in her head, reigning in her impatience. "I know you wanted this to be it, August, and so did I, but-"

"Emma."

"-the prophecy will come true when I turn twenty eight, so can't we just wait? We could go on a vacation-"

"Emma."

"A few months on a beach somewhere, then we're back in time for my birthday-"

"Emma!"

He slaps the dashboard with one hand while pointing ahead excitedly with the other. Emma turns her eyes back to the empty road and - well, it's not so empty anymore. It's the first road sign they've seen in a long time, and it clearly reads: Welcome to Storybrooke.

"Shit," Emma whispers. Then, louder, "Don't get ahead of yourself. This could just be a big coincidence."

"No. This is it. This is it, Ems. Don't you feel it?"

They drive past the sign and August visibly shivers. Emma feels a chill run down her spine, which only reinforces her desire to turn around and drive away. "I feel like this is going to be a horrible disappointment."

"Humor me," he says, though his expression is intense and he's staring intently down the road. They reach town a few minutes later, cruising down a relatively empty main street. A man walks a dalmatian along the sidewalk, his head turning to look curiously at the yellow Bug as they drive by. Emma sinks down a little further into her seat, wishing she were invisible.

"Maybe driving right into town is a bad idea. What if the Evil Queen sees us?"

"Oh, now you believe that they're here?" August scoffs at her.

"Just being careful," Emma mutters.

"Fine. Find somewhere to park. We'll sneak around on foot then; can't possibly stick out anymore than your yellow Bug."

Emma turns down another street just past a diner and parks along the sidewalk by an old brick building, figuring it's as good a spot as any thanks to the lack of parking signs. August is already out of the car, striding around the corner to check out the diner they'd passed. Emma hurries after him after snatching a grey hoodie and a baseball cap from the backseat, throwing both on to effectively hide her red leather jacket and her blonde curls. The last thing she needs is to stick out like a sore thumb; this town looks like the sort where everyone knows everyone, and that's not a good thing for them.

"August," she hisses, catching up to him as he peers curiously into the windows of the diner. Her eyes follow his, finding a leggy brunette waitress strutting through the diner and tending to the customers. There are a few short, burly men seated at the counter, an older woman standing by the register, and a fair amount of people scattered throughout the booths or tables.

"Recognize anyone?" She asks, noticing the grin splitting his features. Instead of replying, he turns and grabs her in a tight hug, a laugh of delight escaping him.

"We're here!" he cries, planting a kiss on her cheek. "This is it, Emma! We're here! Look!" He spins her around, pointing towards the diner windows. "See that waitress? That's Red! And the old woman, that's Granny. I know that dwarf there on the left, that's Grumpy, he was at the war councils too."

Emma's eyes follow his pointing finger and she soaks in the sight of all these people he seems to remember from his childhood, but she's not sure how she's supposed to feel right now. Excited? Elated? She doesn't know these people, and the only thing they know about her is she's supposedly the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, sent away in a wardrobe shortly after birth to return as their Savior twenty eight years later. Heck, how is she supposed to feel when they find her parents? The parents she's never known?

"August," she mutters, heart sinking at the prospect. It takes her a moment to realize he's gone quiet again, staring hard into the diner and frowning. "What's wrong?"

"They look exactly as I remember them…"

"Uh… So?"

Slowly, August's blue eyes shift to her. "Emma, they haven't aged a day since I last saw them twenty seven years ago."

"Oh." Emma blinks, the information slow to process in her mind. When it does, she feels her knees weaken. "Oh, god. August, my parents-"

"They'll be our age," he realizes, faintly. "Shit. What the hell is going on in this town?"

Emma sags against August's side, now thankful that he's still got an arm around her waist. He tightens his grip on her and bumps his head against hers.

"Hey, we'll figure this out, Ems. Everything will be fine. We're here. We've found them. That's all that matters."

"Yeah," she agrees, halfheartedly. Then, "Now what? Should we go in there and meet them? Maybe they'll know where my parents are right now?"

"I… I guess so," he says after a moment, realizing that he never really had a plan for when they actually arrived. No one had told him how they'd break the Evil Queen's curse, only that Emma would be the one to do it on her twenty eighth birthday. Emma seems to realize the same thing at the same time, because she looks up at him with concern all over her features.

"What if I can't break the curse until my birthday? Should we really make our presence known until then? If the Evil Queen finds out we're here, she'll kill us."

"There's no magic here, Emma. She can't…"

"Not with magic. What do you want to bet she's got a handgun? Or if the cops here are corrupt or something, she could leave us to rot in a cell. I don't want to screw this up, August. We can't lose, not now that we're finally here. If the prophecy says I'll break it on my twenty eighth birthday, I'd feel better waiting for that."

Reluctant, he nods his head. He's never considered the fact that they could fail simply from being too early for the prophecy to come true, and with his papa possibly living somewhere in this very town, he realizes he doesn't want to take any chances either. "I'm sorry. You're right. We don't have to leave, though, do we? As long as we don't tell anyone who we are, they won't recognize us. We could scope the place out and start planning against the Queen."

"You want to stay? What will we do; rent a room at the BnB? I get the feeling that everyone knows everyone around here. We'll be the talk of the town."

August sighs, running a hand through his hair, a telltale sign that he's scrambling for an idea. Emma peers towards the diner again, examining the supposed fairytale characters as he paces a short distance away. She's turning back immediately when an unfamiliar voice speaks up.

"Hi there!"

When Emma whips around, they're greeted by the timid looking man and the dalmatian they'd driven past earlier. He looks pleasant and friendly enough, if a bit outdated in terms of clothing choices. August stiffens and goes quiet, so Emma jumps in.

"Hi." She offers a quick smile and a nod. "Nice evening, isn't it?"

"That it is." He glances at August, then back to Emma, his bafflement clear on his face. "I can't remember the last time we've had strangers pass through! What brings you to Storybrooke?"

"Oh, we're just looking for a place to stay the night. We've been driving quite a while and figured it was better to sleep in a hotel than the car. Is there a hotel around here?"

"Closest we've got is Granny's Bed and Breakfast," he offers somewhat apologetically, pointing to the building just past the diner. "It might be pretty different than what you're used to - I assume you're from the big city? - but it's really quite lovely there."

Emma's about to babble some other form of pleasantry when August blurts out, "Jiminy?"

"I'm sorry?" the man says, blinking.

August hesitates, an odd look on his face. "Sorry. You, uh, looked familiar. I thought you were a friend of mine; Jiminy."

The man chuckles. "Nope. I'm Archie. Archie Hopper. And this here is Pongo."

"Pongo," Emma repeats, lifting a brow, because of course.

"Is there a Jiminy around here?" August inquires casually. "Or a Geppetto?"

"Like in Pinocchio?" Archie laughs goodnaturedly. "Nope. No one in this town with names like that. Are you Italian?"

"Err, yeah. Well, Archie, thanks for the help. We should probably get going now," August says, putting his arm around Emma's shoulders and flashing that charming smile of his. Archie bids them goodnight before heading on his way, and Emma finds herself being led back to the Bug.

"What was that about?" she demands, confused.

"Archie Hopper," August scoffs. "That was Jiminy. I would recognize his voice anywhere. He's clearly not a cricket anymore, though."

"Okay," Emma says slowly, unable to imagine Archie as a cricket. "So he doesn't respond to Jiminy. What's that mean? Are they different people here?"

"He doesn't remember." August shakes his head, frowning. "Maybe it's part of the curse; they don't remember who they are. It makes sense, I guess. When the Savior breaks the curse, everyone would get their memories back."

"Oh, great," Emma mutters, scowling. "Even more people counting on me to save them. What now, Pinocchio? Are we going to make up a backstory to explain why we're staying at the BnB for a while? I'm saying this now; pretending to be a couple is off the table. I'm so not up for that shit."

"I have a better idea."

He pulls up a tiny vial of blue liquid from within his shirt, the same vial the Blue fairy had given him when his father first convinced her to send him through the wardrobe with baby Emma. Of all the things he owned, this he protected with his life, and now he removes it from the chain around his neck and holds it out to Emma.

"The last bit of magic," Emma says aloud, eyes widening at he drops it into her palm. Perhaps she's never truly believed that he has magic in a vial, but now that he wants to use it, the thought makes her nervous. "Are you sure we should use it?"

August nods. "The Blue fairy said I would know when it was the right time. Well, now feels like the right time. We need to be able to stay here without drawing suspicion to ourselves, and we need a way to spy on the Queen until the time comes for you to break the curse."

"Okay, but…" Emma glances back down at the little vial of magic. "How is this bit of magic going to do that?"

August is already clambering back into the Bug and scrolling through the contacts list on his phone, a smirk plastered to his face, the same smirk he always got when he had an idea. "Get in, princess. We're going shopping."

It took a dozen phone calls and a lot of bribing, but it was worth it. No one would be answering miss Mills' application to adopt, which meant no one would be visiting Storybrooke and getting in the way. The second half of the plan was a lot harder: Emma Swan was stubborn as a mule and apparently had zero trust in magic. August had to pull out all the stops, pouting and begging and pleading until she finally flipped him off, threw her car keys at him, and downed the vial like a shot glass. Luckily, the Blue fairy had been right when she'd said the magic would work by instinct, and thus Emma was able to pull off the one spell they needed her to do. A quick stop by a children's clothing boutique right before it closed put the finishing touches on their plan, and then everything was in place.

The clock on the dash reads ten o'clock at night. August pulls the Bug up next to the curb, grinning to himself now that he's finally driving Emma's car. If she wasn't unconscious in the backseat he would be getting an earful by now, but she'd apparently tired herself out after the excitement of actually doing magic had worn off. He redials the number he'd called an hour earlier and waits patiently, though he doesn't have to wait long. The Queen is apparently quite desperate for companionship.

"Mr. Booth?" the husky voice says in way of a greeting.

"Please, call me August. I thought you might like to know that we've arrived in Storybrooke."

"Oh, of course! Did you find my house alright?"

"We're right outside."

There's immediate shuffling on the line. August smirks as he climbs out of the car, shutting the door softly behind him. He makes it to the gate in time to see a gorgeous brunette hurrying down the walkway of the front lawn towards him. She's in a pristine grey dress suit, her dark hair short and her makeup simple but perfect. In summary, she's nothing like the Evil Queen he remembers from his childhood, and that actually serves to comfort him. Maybe twenty seven years in this world has made her complacent.

August ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket as she does the same, reaching the gate and quickly pushing it open for him.

"August, hi, I'm Regina Mills," she says, a little breathlessly, and it's then that he notices pink in her cheeks and a hint of red in her eyes. Had she cried? Was the Queen even capable of crying? "Is she - is she here?"

"She is," he confirms pleasantly, startled at how anxious she actually looks. He doesn't give himself time to dwell on it. "As we discussed on the phone, I am required to stay in town for the next few weeks and to check in on her daily. It's all a normal part of the process, I assure you, and as soon as I believe she has acclimated here, I can sign you off and finalize the paperwork."

"Yes, of course, I understand. And then, after that - she'll be mine - legally?"

"If you think she is the right fit for your family, yes."

"I have no doubt," Regina says, her dark eyes flitting immediately towards the car. "When I sent in the request forms, they told me- I thought I would have to wait months. It's been four days and now you're here."

"It must be fate," August jokes, and Regina is too distracted staring at the car to even react. He supposes now is a good time to get this part over with. "She's pretty tuckered out from the journey. Would you like me to carry her inside for you?"

"I'd appreciate it," she agrees, wringing her hands together. August nods and pops open the back door, bending over to reach in and retrieve Emma. When he straightens back up and nudges the door shut with his knee, he has a five year old little girl sleeping cradled in his arms, and he couldn't have missed the sharp gasp coming from Regina if he'd tried.

To her credit, Regina isn't sure what she'd been expecting. All August had told her on the phone was that they had a five year old girl in need of a new home immediately, and that he had just retrieved her from an agency nearby and was more than happy to come directly to her house if that was fine with her.

This little girl is the most precious thing she's ever seen, wrapped up in a baby-blue dress and a thick white sweater on top. Golden blonde curls fall freely over a round, heart shaped face, her button nose twitches in her sleep, and her thin lips are curled into the softest of smiles as if she were having a pleasant dream. She has her fingers curled around the collar of August's jacket, and he carries her with gentle care as Regina quickly leads the way into the house. They make it into the living room and August is just about to set her down on the couch when she awakens, immediately stiffening and tightening her grip on his jacket.

"Hello, princess," he says warmly, smiling down at the little girl. She leans into him, eyes wide with what Regina assumes is fear. She reasons that this child is likely scared of being dropped off at yet another stranger's home, so she crouches down next to August by the couch and gives the sweetest smile she can muster.

"Hi there, sweetheart," Regina cooes, and she feels August glancing at her before he too turns his attention back on the nervous little girl.

"This is Regina, and you're going to stay with her for a while, okay?"

The girl's gaze shifts to Regina, and Regina just smiles wider at the sight of those big, beautiful green eyes.

"For how long?" the girl finally asks, sounding weary.

"Well, for a few weeks at first. If you like it here, and if Regina is willing-"

"You'd be welcome to stay here for as long as you like," Regina says, already beaming. "I'm very happy to have you here."

The little girl stares at her for a long moment, looking confused, then conflicted. After a long moment, she finally gives a timid little smile. "I'm Emma."

"That's a beautiful name, Emma." Regina's eyes crinkle with her genuine smile, then she looks to August. "I can't thank you enough for bringing her here so soon, Mr. Booth. It is quite late, though, and I'm sure she's tired. Would it be alright if I tucked her in? I already have a child's room prepared. Did you need to check out the house first, or-?"

"It's quite alright. Your house is lovely and I trust that you have everything in order for her. I can do all the checks tomorrow if that's agreeable."

She nods, clearly eager to have a moment alone with the beautiful child - a child that could soon be very much hers - so August gets down on a knee and gives the girl one more reassuring smile.

"I'm going to go now, okay, Emma? Regina will take good care of you tonight, and I'll be back to visit tomorrow."

Emma just nods and throws herself at him in a tight, anxious hug. Regina steps back to give them a moment, wondering how the girl will cope once this man whom she clearly trusts is gone, and hoping that she'll come to trust Regina just as much one day.

Gently detaching himself from her, August bids them goodbye and heads back out into the night. Regina double checks that the front door is securely locked before dropping to a crouch in front of Emma, who had followed them into the foyer and now stands by the bottom of the staircase. Her green eyes are large and she worries her lower lip between her teeth.

"Are you tired, sweetheart?" Regina's voice is oddly soothing, and Emma's heart rate is going a mile a minute now that she's alone with the Evil Queen. It doesn't help that her body is now five years old and utterly defenseless.

If you can respond without saying too much, it's probably the safer option, August had said when they'd first discussed how she'd behave as a child. She's no actor, but she's pretty sure she can pull this off, at least.

Emma nods, her head bobbing more emphatically than she meant to simply because she's not used to having a head larger than her body. It's going to take some getting used to, being in a child-sized body again.

Regina smiles, taking her dramatic head bob as a sign of her exhaustion, and opens her arms. "Well, I've got a room all ready for you. Can I carry you upstairs, Emma?"

Not wanting to anger the Evil Queen - Emma figures being an angelic little child will make her job easier - she gives another awkward little nod and a timid smile. The next thing she knows, she's lifted up into a warm embrace and being carried up the staircase and down a hall. She makes sure to memorize whatever doors and halls she can see from her vantage point before Regina carefully sits her down on a soft bed in what she assumes is the "child's bedroom." The furniture is so sophisticated and tastefully designed, however, that it's clear the Evil Queen has never raised a young child of her own. A real five year old Emma would have been perfectly happy with bright green walls and a firetruck bed.

"Let's get you into something more comfy for bed, okay?"

God, this is awkward, Emma thinks to herself, but outwardly she's all dimples and cooperation. Regina takes her little shoes off and sets them aside, then helps her out of her sweater and her blue dress. She considers Emma's undergarments, then heads for her bedroom and returns a moment later with a soft, satiny silk shirt. What is likely an adult-sized silk tunic looks more like a sleeping gown on Emma, but at least it's soft and warm.

"We'll go buy you some more clothes that fit you tomorrow. How does that sound?"

Emma just offers up a shy little smile, ducking her head. August hadn't told her how charming the Evil Queen was. Despite her very intense eyes and expressions, this woman is startlingly beautiful, not to mention incredibly kind and warm towards her. It doesn't help that Emma's had very few motherly figures in her life (and none of them lasting for very long), so she's feeling genuinely shy at this point, uncertain of how to feel as Regina lovingly fusses over her.

"Is everything alright, sweetheart?" Regina asks, noticing the odd look on Emma's face. Emma just blinks at her, so frazzled that she's not even sure what to say anymore. All the lines she'd had planned were out the window. She doesn't know how to act like a five year old, she doesn't know what to say, she doesn't even know how she's supposed to treat the Evil Queen. And August expects her to live here for half a year, undercover as a spy? If anything, being in a five-year-old body has apparently given her some child-like qualities, and in her uncertain state, she feels like crying in frustration right now.

And… yeah, no, that's exactly what she does. She starts crying.

"Oh, no, baby girl," Regina says, immediately alarmed when tears spill down the little blonde girl's cheeks. "Please don't cry. What's wrong?"

She scoots closer and pulls Emma onto her lap, enveloping her in a warm hug that Emma instinctively leans into. The gesture only serves to make her cry harder, actually sobbing aloud now, shoulders shaking with each unsteady gasp for air. Regina rubs her back in a soothing motion, murmuring soft reassurances against her hair.

"Tell me what I can do to make it better," Regina pleads softly, one hand stroking at her blonde curls. "Is it August? Do you miss him? He'll visit you tomorrow, I promise."

Emma's head shakes and she swipes furiously at her tears, feeling ashamed for bursting out in tears. She's known the Evil Queen for less than an hour and already she's in her arms crying like a baby - nevermind the fact that she really is five years old right now. As Regina smooths out her blonde hair, she sniffles and comes up with the best excuse she can think of.

"Tired," she says, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. Regina smiles with relief, glad that she's finally using her words again.

"Of course you are. May I tuck you into bed?"

Emma nods, so Regina gently lifts her up and places her in the middle of the bed, tucking her in under the thick, fluffy blanket. The mattress is so soft that Emma feels like she's sinking into a cloud. Damn. What's the threadcount in these sheets? August would be so jealous.

"Would you like a glass of water before you sleep?" Regina offers. Emma shakes her head, just eager to be alone again so that she can collect her thoughts. "Alright then. If you need anything at all, just call for me, okay? My bedroom is just at the end of the hall."

Regina pauses, brushing a stray hair from Emma's forehead and gently stroking her round cheeks. "I'm very happy to have you here, Emma," she admits, her voice soft. Emma smiles a little, but she's gone into silent mode again.

With a nod, Regina stands and turns off the lights, pausing at the door. She decides to leave it open a crack so that the room isn't completely black, figuring that like any child, Emma might be afraid of the dark.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispers, stepping away. The gentle, high-pitched response of "Night, Gina," has the Queen smiling joyfully to herself as she returns to her bedroom. For the first time in over twenty-some years, she can't wait to wake up in the morning to a house that isn't empty.