There had been some sort of universal, unspoken agreement that no one was going after Regina. Emma couldn't really fault her parents for going back into the diner—it was their party, after all, and if either of them bothered Regina at a moment like this she was sure they'd be incinerated. And while Emma wished that Henry, the only one who could really comfort his other mother, had gone after her, she knew that this was beyond his ability to handle. There was only one person who could possibly fix this.

But Robin didn't move, and Emma hated him for that.

There were only a handful of them left standing out in the dark in front of Granny's. Hook, who Emma couldn't quite seem to shake. And then Robin, Marian, and Roland. The little boy had his face screwed up in confusion, and he wriggled in his mother's arms as if trying to get out of her embrace. The one she'd swept him up into to keep him away from Regina. As if Regina would ever, in any time, in any realm, harm that child.

"Where'd she go?" he finally said, craning his neck to look at his father. "Where's Gina?"

Marian rocked him awkwardly, not yet used to how much he'd grown in her absence. "It's okay, Roland. She's gone. I won't let her hurt you."

Emma exhaled hard through her nose, trying to keep her anger in check. If there wasn't a toddler in the way, she was pretty sure that she'd be throttling Marian right now. "Listen," she began, but Roland beat her to it.

"But she said we could have a sleepover," Roland said. "Gina said, Mama. She's my friend."

Marian set him down so she could turn on her husband. "Are you mad? You were going to let her into your home?"

"Her home, technically," Robin said a bit sheepishly, and Emma balled her hands into fists. She wasn't sure what to be more angry about—that Regina and Robin were planning to sleep together, or that Regina had been looking forward to tonight only to have it ripped away from her. Hook pressed a hand to Emma's back, trying to calm her, but it only acted to set her off.

"You need to go after her," she told Robin before turning to his wife. "And you need to shut the f…" she glanced down at Roland, catching herself, "you need to stop. You don't know her."

"Regina needs to cool down," Robin said.

"You don't know what she needs! You don't know her like I do!" It was all too much, the guilt, the jealousy, the anger. Before Emma could stop herself, her fist made painful contact with Robin's face. Roland burst into tears, and Hook managed to step between Marian and Emma before things could escalate farther. Emma ignored all of it, just watching Robin reel from the blow. "You're a coward," she told him, and then she ran.

Emma was out of breath by the time she reached Regina's door, and she paused to look behind her, grateful to see that Hook hadn't insisted on following. She waited for a moment on the porch, shaking out the hand she'd punched Robin with and trying to catch her breath, and then she turned her attention to the front door. It was just slightly ajar, and Emma was suddenly so glad she'd come. Regina had left it like that for a reason. She was expecting someone to come after her, she was inviting it. And while Emma was probably the last person Regina wanted to see, she hoped she was better than nothing.

Emma made her way through the dark first floor, peering into each room. There was no sign of Regina, no sign of anything out of the ordinary, until she reached the kitchen. There she found a collection of unlit candles, two empty champagne flutes, and the lingering smell of the apple pie waiting on the counter.

She cautiously climbed the stairs, aware that this felt like trespassing, that Regina had never invited her up here before. She passed Henry's untouched room, and then paused in the doorway to a guest room. A child's sleeping bag, presumably Henry's, was spread out on the floor and surrounded by a mound of pillows. There was a stuffed monkey carefully perched on top. Emma frowned, leaning against the doorframe. She hadn't just taken Robin from Regina, she'd taken Roland, too. Perhaps that was even worse. Robin could do the right thing, could choose Regina, but Marian would always stand between her son and Regina.

Emma continued down the hall, past a bathroom and a closet, and then found herself at one last closed door. Regina's. She hesitated a second, then knocked lightly, surprised to hear Regina respond. "Come in."

Emma quietly slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. The first thing she noticed was the smell of roses, deep red ones in little vases all around the room. There were groupings of unlit candles, too, and Emma imagined how they'd look lit up. How intimate and romantic a gesture all this was. How she'd love to walk into Regina's candlelit room and see her waiting on the bed, perhaps in the red silky thing that was slung over a nearby chair.

But Regina was still fully dressed and curled up into herself. She raised her head, her eyes hopeful for a split second, and then she turned away again. "You," she whispered, somewhere between disappointment and contempt.

"Me," Emma said apologetically. "I know I'm the last person you want to see." Regina said nothing, and Emma continued. "You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who loves you enough to run after you no matter what."

Regina scoffed, sitting up to face Emma in the near dark. "What, like you?"

Emma sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Regina to push her away, but nothing happened. Just silence. "I punched Robin in the face," she said after a long moment.

"You did?" There was a hint of something lighter, almost amusement, in Regina's voice. Emma closed her eyes, focused her magic, and when she opened them again the room was filled with candlelight and she could finally see Regina's face. The brunette's face was still shiny with tears, but she looked almost proud of Emma. Whether that was because of the candles or because of the punch, Emma didn't know.

"I don't know how he could pass all this up," Emma said, gesturing at the candles, the flowers. She set a hand down on the bed and ran her fingers over the silky sheets, wondering if they were something special for this evening or just Regina's everyday royal taste.

"He didn't know I was planning all this," Regina said, and she suddenly looked embarrassed.

"Even if you hadn't, even if you were just meeting up in some crappy motel room." Emma's fingers crept closer to Regina's, although she didn't dare make contact.

"I'm not in the habit of meeting men in shady motels, Miss Swan," Regina said pointedly.

Emma rolled her eyes. "The point is, if you're there, he should be there. You are enough reason. More than enough."

"Apparently not." Regina allowed herself to look vulnerable for just a moment before her face went hard. "Shouldn't you be off to your pirate?"

"I'm not… we're not…" Emma sighed. "If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but I've chosen to be here with you."

Regina didn't respond, and Emma was halfway off the bed when the brunette's fingers brushed ever so softly against hers. "For the record, you deserve better, too."

Emma sat back down. "I just need something easy," she admitted, because if Regina was going to be vulnerable tonight she might as well be, too. "Something that won't hurt too badly when it ends. Something that doesn't really matter."

Regina shook her head, pressing her hand lightly over Emma's, and Emma couldn't remember the last time Regina had touched her. She'd certainly never touched her like this. "You need someone who understands you," she corrected gently. "Someone who gives you the space you need but will never let you go."

Regina was so soft in this moment that Emma took the risk and flopped down onto the bed beside her. "I would have followed you sooner tonight," she said. "But Hook actually, literally held me back."

"He's wrong for you." Regina's lips tipped up into what was almost, but not quite, a smile. "He's wrong for any woman with some semblance of self-respect."

"You may be slightly overestimating me."

"No," Regina said simply, as if it was undeniable fact. "I know you."

Emma couldn't argue with that, not after she'd so frequently told people that she knew Regina. She'd told Robin tonight, and countless others who overestimated or underestimated or villainized the other woman. And she knew that Regina didn't praise her easily. "You know what we both deserve?" she asked after a moment.

Regina was staring up at the ceiling, and she curled her fingers around Emma's, so that what might have been an accidental touch to begin with was deliberate and real. "Respect," she said softly. "Compassion. Forgiveness. Love."

"I was going to say a big slice of that apple pie you've got downstairs," Emma said, but Regina was right. This wasn't a time for joking, for pushing emotion away. It was the deepest conversation they'd ever had. "But those things, too. Especially those things."

Regina turned to look at Emma, and the blonde was surprised that she wasn't scolded. "Each other." She bent down, hovering over Emma for a moment, waiting for rejection, and when it didn't come she lowered her lips gently onto hers. The candles surged brighter as they connected, and they stayed that way even when there was space between them again, briefly. "Now, let's get you some pie."

Emma shook her head, looping her arms around Regina's neck so the older woman couldn't escape. "It can wait."