"Emma, stay," Regina said shortly, leaning back to press her palms to the mattress and fold one stockinged leg over the other. If Emma hadn't just spit a stream of harsh words at the Mayor, she would have thought the woman was trying to seduce her.

"Since when do you call me Emma?" the blonde asked quietly, pulling a boot on and blinking at the wave of nausea that overcame her from bending over. It must have shown on her face, because Regina continued.

"You're not well. You don't need to be wandering the streets alone."

"I have my car." Emma pulled her other boot on, almost losing her balance completely.

"You're in no shape to drive that death trap anywhere," Regina warned. "Come to bed."

That did it. Emma stood straight, ignoring the spinning room as she attempted to focus her attention on the woman who was completely throwing off any sense of normalcy Emma had managed to cling onto. "What is this?" she asked sharply. At Regina's genuine frown, she added, "Why are you acting like you actually care if I'm sick or not?"

"You're not well," Regina repeated, though her expression was turning impatient. "I don't care what you think when it comes to me caring. I'm trying to be nice and offer you a place to sleep."

Which just happens to be in your bed with you?

Rolling her eyes, Emma turned away, grabbing her coat off of the floor. Before she even realized she was saying it, the words were out of her mouth. "Did you offer the same courtesy to Graham when he was sick?"

She felt rather than saw Regina's eyes narrow on her back. Deciding to go ahead and own up to what she said, Emma turned, mildly surprised to see the look of uncertainty shining in the deep brown orbs that watched her. Recognition followed a moment later, and Emma could have kicked herself. Great. Why had she said that? Regina wasn't stupid, and it wasn't that hard to figure out why Emma was acting the way she was.

"Graham is dead."

The words were flat and emotionless, leaving Emma to wonder, yet again, why Regina didn't seem to want to show any remorse over the situation. Instead of that thought, a completely different one came from her mouth. "But if he wasn't, you would still be doing with him what you just did with me."

The brunette unfolded her legs, standing gracefully off of the bed with a look of confusion finally seeping into her gaze. When she spoke, her voice was guarded. "But he is, and I'm not." Taking a step forward, she added in another flat tone, "You think I used you."

Emma pulled her jacket on, giving Regina a cold look. "It doesn't matter." Turning, she opened the bedroom door, peeking down the hall to make sure Henry's door was shut before exiting. Surprisingly, Regina followed.

"It does matter."

Turning, Emma glared. "It doesn't. I'm not having this conversation with my kid asleep three rooms down. Good night."

The blonde was downstairs and halfway to opening the front door before Regina's voice rang out from upstairs. "Emma." She stopped, though she had no idea why, and turned another, weaker, look on Regina. She didn't feel well; all she really wanted in that moment was a blanket. The look on Regina's face said she knew this, and her words confirmed it.

"Please come to bed."

She would never understand what made her walk back up those stairs. The look in Regina's eyes, the hesitant, scared tone, or the fact that Regina never used the word 'please' unless she was being condescending. But once she reached the top, and Regina took her hand, squeezing to determine how high her temperature was, Emma knew this was going to be a difficult thing to ignore in the future.