Come six o'clock the next morning, Emma was more irritable than even she could have anticipated.

She was still tired, and still had hardly slept. Her mind had sputtered and whirred and chinked and chugged all night long, replaying the previous evening on an endless loop until 'exhaustion' barely began to cover what Emma was feeling.

The one thought that resounded firmly consisted solely of two words: Regina knows.

Emma couldn't believe she'd allowed her resentment that much control. She couldn't believe she'd outed her own feelings at all, let alone so bluntly. Because Emma had left absolutely no room for misinterpretation on her feelings; she had made it very, irrevocably clear that she was helplessly in love with the mayor of Storybrooke.

Emma covered her face with her pillow and released a long, heartfelt groan.

What an idiot. Who even does that?

Emma was then reconsidering every insult that Regina had ever thrown at her, and assessing each for its validity – because she could certainly see herself as Regina did, just then. She could see herself as nothing more than an infuriating street urchin with a penchant for ill timing, and Emma did not love herself for it.

Regina wasn't Emma's to love; she was Robin's. And Emma had received a startlingly painful reminder of that when she'd found the damn bastard on Regina's front porch the night before. Though things between them had hardly seemed pleasant at the time, the fact that Robin had shown up at all demonstrated his feelings for Regina.

He wanted to be sure that she was alright.

Emma knew it was awful of her to think it, but she was mildly proud and not a bit smug about the fact that she had been the one to hold Regina when the quake had struck. Perhaps that made her a terrible person, but it was still true.

Sighing, Emma relented to herself that it didn't actually matter. Regina was still Robin's, and the only thing that Emma could do with that – and with her stupid, stupid decision to share her goddamn feelings – was to keep moving forward as she had before. Not that what she'd been doing before (pining, if she was honest) was particularly healthy, or anything.

But it wasn't like Emma could turn her feelings off.

Still, though, Emma knew she had to try. Regina was her friend, if nothing else, and Emma had never really been fortunate enough to have many of those. She wouldn't lose the woman altogether, so if she had to pretend like her feelings were nonexistent, then she would.

If not for herself, then Emma could do that for Henry.

Which was, Emma admitted privately, a stupid excuse. Emma would do it for herself, and she would do it for Regina, because nothing good would come of anything else.

Resolved, Emma shoved the pillow away with some unnecessary force and pattered her way to the bathroom for a shower.

Emma rapped her knuckles against the mayor's door and shifted her phone to balance between her ear and her shoulder while she shuffled her keys into her pocket, crossly folding her arms across her chest.

When Regina slipped the door open, it was with a scowl and a gesture with her hands that clearly read, 'Why the hell did you knock so soon if you were clearly on the phone?'

Rolling her eyes, Emma sighed, parted her lips to speak, then closed them shut as her jaw clenched.

"Leroy," Emma snapped unforgivingly down the line, "I don't have any fucking clue what happened last night. I don't know how many different times or ways I can express that to you, or to anyone else… No… No, I have to go. Regina's helping me look into all this crap… What?… Fucking- No, Leroy! I can't talk to Sneezy, or Doc, or Dopey, okay? I can't meet you at the diner, and I can't meet you at the station, either… Because I'm busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on in this town! You can feel free to pass that message along to anyone you come across at the diner, too, because I will be sending literally everyone who calls me straight to voicemail until I have some goddamn answers. Goodbye," she snarled, jamming her thumb against the 'end' button considerably more harshly than the touch screen required before shoving it into her back pocket.

Regina raised her brows, but held the door open as Emma slumped through it.

"Rough morning, Sheriff?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Emma growled. "I've never been so happy to remember to put my phone on silent in my entire life. I woke up to thirty-two missed calls, and more text messages than I'm willing to count, all demanding an explanation for that freak show we were so generously treated to last night. And, obviously, I don't have an explanation, so I don't know what to tell them. And yet," Emma puffed out, aggravated, "that somehow doesn't stop them from finding even more questions to ask."

"The life of the Savior," Regina chuckled, shaking her head. "Not so glorious after all, hm?"

Emma cringed at the title, but shook it off with a roll of her shoulders.

"Sorry," Emma sighed, deflating.

"Whatever for, dear?" Regina frowned, waving a negligent hand toward a stool at the island counter of the kitchen for Emma to sit in as she moved toward the stove, presumably to flip the bacon in the pan.

She could still feel the weight of her phone – magnified, somehow, by the pressure she felt the device (and the town) were placing upon her – so Emma roughly pulled it from her jeans and dropped it to the counter as if it had burnt her.

"Uh," Emma laughed hollowly, "venting at you, I guess. It probably wasn't the greatest way of saying 'thanks for inviting me to breakfast,' huh?"

"Emma," Regina began cautiously, as the sheriff watched the back of her shoulders visibly turn rigid, "it is becoming quite evident to me that you- have quite a bit going on in that blonde head of yours."

Regina paused, and Emma flicked her eyes to the granite countertop in front of her.

That was an understatement and a half, but even the slight reference to Emma's feelings for Regina was enough to have the Savior itching to run; to hide away in a hole somewhere, never to be found, and never to feel this sort of utter embarrassment again, ever.

"It's alright, Emma," Regina husked softly, like she'd mulled over the words for several moments before deciding upon them, but still felt them too emotional to be comfortable voicing.

"Sure," Emma snorted. "Thanks," she said dryly.

"Emma," Regina sighed, exasperatedly turning from the stove and weakly offering her hands in front of her in a rather helpless gesture that Emma felt didn't suit her at all.

"Don't," Emma shook her head, then scratched the back of her neck while she searched for the words that she needed, eventually folding her arms and resting her elbows against the counter when her mind took far too long to formulate sentences.

Regina remained still, and silent, aside from the slight movement she took to lower the heat over the stove.

It's not like Emma hadn't thought about the possibility of Regina bringing it up. And, because she was Regina, it really was not surprising that she had managed to do it so subtly, while still making her intent to discuss it very clear. But Emma had no such intentions.

"Look," she huffed, finally, "I know that it's not realistic to suggest that we forget about what happened last night, okay? I know that can't happen, because now it's out there, and it's- you know…" Emma shrugged listlessly. "Well, it is what it is. But you're with Robin, and I get that, okay? And things between us… Well, I guess they aren't going as well as I thought they were, but – "

"Regina, do you trust anyone whose heart you don't hold in your hand?"

"No," Regina had sneered back. "I do not."

Emma shut her eyes tightly against the burn that threatened to become far more than she was willing to reveal, and she shook her head, forcing herself to continue in spite of the painful memory.

"But whatever we have right now is good enough for me, okay?" Emma trucked onward. "It's good for Henry, and I may be wrong or assuming things when I shouldn't, or whatever, but I think it's good for you, too," Emma said quietly.

And I can't even think about living without you in my life, somehow, Emma thought sadly, so, there's that.

"It's just- there's no pressure for you to do anything about what I said, and we never, ever have to talk about it. Ever. Okay? I'm not – " Emma clenched her fingers around her biceps tightly, nails biting into the skin there, before she took a deep breath and finished the thought. "I'm not standing in your way, alright? I don't want that. If you're happy with him…" Emma swallowed the burgeoning clot of emotions in her throat, "then I'm not standing in your way. You deserve your happy ending, or whatever, and I'm not going to keep you from having it.

"So, no, you can't forget about last night, and I won't ever forget what a colossal idiot I was, either – but we don't have to discuss it, and it doesn't have to change anything. I don't want it to. Let's just leave it at that, okay?" Emma looked up, finally, locking beseeching green eyes onto Regina's wet, conflicted ones.

"I – "

Emma wasn't sure if she was grateful for the interruption of Henry's hammering stomps down the stairs, or irritated by it, but she offered Regina a tense smile just before their son bounded into the kitchen and drew to a sharp halt.

"Emma!" He cried happily. "What are you doing here? Did Mom let you stay the night?"

Coughing slightly, Emma exchanged a small, worried glance with Regina.

"Henry, have a seat," Regina instructed tenderly, turning once more to pull the bacon from the pan and drop several slices of it onto the three plates set aside, already steaming with eggs and toast and homemade apple jam.

Despite her unfinished talk with Regina, and despite the one that they now had to plow through with Henry – who had no idea, yet, about the earthquake at all – Emma could practically feel herself drooling as Regina set the plate before her. Henry, however, lingered cautiously in the doorway, swaying back and forth as though tempted to both run back to his room, and step forward to demand answers.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked quietly, flicking questioning, suspicious eyes between both of his mothers.

"No, Henry," Emma chuckled, then flattened her mouth into a stern line. "Unless you did something bad that you need to tell us about?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Henry's eyes widened to the size of quarters as he vigorously shook his head. "I've been good, I promise!" He vowed fervently. "I get to see you both, so I haven't been sneaking around, and I know you don't like me hanging out with Dad, but – "

"Henry, my love," Regina sighed softly, "you aren't in trouble. Emma was just teasing you."

Emma offered Henry a sheepish grin when he scowled at her, but he stepped closer, anyway, and she affectionately curled her arm around his neck in a headlock. Henry tried to escape, still pouting and grumbling about Emma's attempt to trick him into fessing up to something bad.

Honestly, though, Emma was grateful that he hadn't fessed up to anything. She had enough on her plate as it was, and – with the reminder of yet another unfinished conversation about their son's father – Emma was already feeling overwhelmed. She did feel badly about causing his panic, though.

"Sorry, kid," she murmured softly. "I promise you're not in trouble. Your mom and I just have to talk to you about something."

"Miss Swan," Regina said, sounding awfully impressed as Emma frowned her bemusement, "I do believe I've actually managed to teach you something."

"Huh?" Emma scrunched her face up, confused.

Henry giggled. "You said 'your mom and I,'" he snickered, before it developed into a sincere laugh that erupted from his belly. "You used good grammar."

Oh, Emma realized.

She shrugged. "I'm a slow learner, but stuff sinks in, eventually."

"I'll keep that in mind," Regina returned, smiling softly at the pair of them.

God. If that smile was any sweeter, Emma was pretty sure that Regina would have banned the expression from her own damn face just to prevent Henry (or, more likely, Emma) from developing cavities.

Emma swallowed thickly and offered a lazy grin in return, shrugging with mild discomfort.

It didn't exactly thrill her that she was being so consistently evaluated by the mayor for her grammar – a thought that had emerged more than once in the past. It made her feel judged, and, occasionally, belittled. She didn't think Regina intended it – at least, not anymore; not in quite some time, really – but that didn't change the way that Emma felt.

She didn't want Regina to think poorly of her.

That being said, Emma felt a glow of pride emerge that threatened to wipe away her tension from earlier, altogether. Emma would invest in a fucking Rosetta-Stone and fall asleep to it every night just to show off her mastery of the English language, if learning to speak properly earned her smiles like that more often.

"So…" Henry drawled, shoving Emma's arm from his shoulder with a now-playful huff as he jumped up into the bar stool beside her, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Henry," Regina sighed softly, that striking smile fading fast from her lips and leaving a vacancy in Emma's heart that she wasn't sure she knew how to fill again, "something happened last night."

Emma rolled her eyes, mouthing the ensuing question silently to her plate at the same time as Henry gave voice to it.

"Something like what?"

Emma glanced upward, feeling the familiar burn of Regina's eyes boring into her with a harsh glare. The sheriff shrugged.

"What?" She demanded, spearing a bite of egg and shoving it into her mouth, tucking it into her cheek as she spoke. "Of course he was going to ask, Regina. Could you be any more vague?"

"Guys!" Henry interrupted, amused but clearly concerned, too. "What happened?"

"Something big, kid," Emma confessed. "Like, earthquake big."

"Like an earthquake? Or it was an earthquake?" Henry demanded, frowning.

"Sorta both?" Emma decided hesitantly, ignoring so hard that he sounded so much like Regina, just then. "I mean, it was an earthquake for sure; the ground shook and everything fell and all of that, but…"

"But…?" Henry pressed impatiently.

"There was- magic was involved," Regina murmured softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and avoiding Henry's gaze.

And Emma's, too.

"Did you do it?" Henry asked, both immediately and seriously.

From her position beside him, Emma could hear his teeth grinding together, and it made her cringe. Or maybe his words did.

Probably that second one.

"No," Regina deflated, but lifted her eyes to meet his, allowing him to assess her sincerity. "No, Henry, I didn't."

Henry evaluated her with skeptical eyes, but the look slowly receded before he nodded and lowered his head.

He didn't apologize for his automatic assumption, but neither of his mothers really expected that of him. If nothing else, Emma considered, Henry was their son; nature or nurture didn't exactly matter when each of the boy's mothers invested equally as much stock in pride as the other, so at least Henry came by his quite honestly.

Still, it broke Emma's heart that he hadn't assumed Regina's innocence. She knew, in all honesty, that she was probably the foolish one – never having doubted Regina for a second – but that didn't mean anything. Not really. Henry was Regina's son, and, though she had been the Evil Queen once, Emma didn't know how the mayor could make it any clearer that she had no desire to be that again.

Emma knew it would take more time, and they had come a long way, already, but she silently renewed her vow to help Regina to build Henry's trust.

"She was with me the whole time, Henry," Emma tendered slowly. "But, even if she wasn't, your mom doesn't have any business doing magic like that anymore, and I don't think she wants to."

"You don't know that," Henry set his jaw stubbornly.

Emma frowned at him, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I don't. But you could ask."

Henry mulled over the words for a few moments, but when he finally looked up at Regina, it wasn't with accusation, but with curiosity.

"Do you?" He inquired softly. "Wanna make bad magic, still, I mean?"

Regina swallowed thickly. "No," she shook her head. "I- No. Don't misunderstand, though, Henry," she said shamefully, bowing her head. "I am not good. But I- I am trying. For you. I'm trying. I can't promise you more than that."

Henry gnawed thoughtfully at his lower lip before he nodded. "Thanks."

Regina's eyes met Emma's, confusion bleeding through brown orbs and into Emma's own, but this? This Emma understood perfectly. Her life was chaotic and crazy and completely out of hand, right now, but she understood Henry's gratitude, because he was thanking Regina for something that Emma had very frequently wished of everyone she'd encountered as a child.

So Emma smiled reassuringly and nodded for Regina to ask the question burning at the tip of her tongue.

"Thanks for what, exactly?" Regina ventured hesitantly, casting her gaze between Emma and Henry as if waiting for the great cosmic joke to fall upon her.

"For telling me the truth," Henry nodded resolutely.

He then shoveled half a slice of toast into his mouth, all at once, and even Emma found that grotesque. But, after he had finished chewing enough, he grinned at them with toast crumbs flaking against the corners of his mouth and jam slathered all around it, and asked, "So, you don't know who did it, right?"

"Kid, I can't even take you seriously right now," Emma rolled her eyes and thrust her napkin at his face. "Wipe your mouth, or Regina will totally Mom out and probably spit on her thumb to clean your whole face."

"I would do no such thing," Regina scoffed instantly.

"Yes you would," Henry and Emma chimed synchronically, incredulous that she would even try to deny it.

Regina released a choked sound of annoyance, just as Emma and Henry high-fived beneath the granite cover of the counter.

Author's Note: So, first things first... I started at a new job today, so I'm not sure how frequent or rare updates are going to be for a while. I'll do the best I can, and it doesn't seem like it's going to get too hectic, but I'm giving you fair warning, just in case. Secondly, all that angst was making my heart hurt. While there was still a fair amount of it, I did try to end it on a pretty fluffily note. I hope it left you in a bit lighter spirits than last chapter. I tried, guys. :P