"Seriously, Mary Margaret, I'll be fine on my own. It's just two weeks."

"I'm not leaving you alone here for two weeks, Emma. Besides, Kathryn's a great caretaker and I trust her. You two will get along wonderfully."

Emma slouched further into the couch, letting her head drop back. She could feel sunlight warming her side, which meant the window blinds were up again. "Can you cover up the window before you go? I don't need the light anyway. Actually, you may as well turn off all the lights and save on my electricity bill for the month. I'll be fine in the dark."

She could almost hear the brunette's eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Kathryn is coming and that's final. I refuse to come back to find my best friend's corpse in the darkness." There was some thumping and shuffling. Emma assumed Mary Margaret was moving her suitcase and bags to the door. The woman had pretty much moved in with her ever since she returned from the hospital, insisting that she'd help her out until she fully recovered. Emma was used to living alone most of her life but she had to admit, she'd miss having her friend around.

A moment later, a hand touched her shoulder. Emma instinctively tilted her head up in what she assumed to be the brunette's direction.

"Want help redressing your bandages before I go?" Mary Margaret automatically motioned towards the gauze wrapped around Emma's head, covering both her eyes. Emma sniffed.

"No, it's fine. Kitty can help me with it later."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes again. "Please don't call her that. You know she's doing this as a favor. You can't afford to actually hire a caretaker and you won't let me pay for one."

"And I said I don't need a caretaker," Emma groused, petulant. "I know this apartment like the back of my hand. As long as the fridge is stocked with food, I'll manage here alone just fine."

"You can't even change your bandages on your own."

"Knock the disinfectant onto the floor one time…"

A tap on the door signaled David's arrival at that moment, halting Emma's grumbles.

"Door's open," Emma called. She heard David's heavy steps thump into the apartment.

"Hey, Em," he greeted, leaning in to place a quick kiss on Mary Margaret's cheek. "How're the eyes?"

"Healing." Emma's shoulders lifted in a heavy shrug. "Doctor said the bandages can come off for good in a couple more weeks."

"And your vision?" he inquired a little more hesitantly. Mary Margaret shook her head slightly at him, a worried look creasing her features. Emma was oblivious to it all.

"He's optimistic," was her only reply. "You guys ready to go?"

"Yes," said Mary Margaret. "We're dropping off the spare key with Kathryn on our way to the airport. She'll be here later today."

Knowing there was no getting out of it, Emma sighed heavily and nodded. "Fine. Have a good trip, kids."

Her lips were pursed and though she didn't say what she felt, her friends knew her all too well. David's large hand clasped her shoulder and gave her a squeeze before he grabbed his girlfriend's bags and started hauling them out. Mary Margaret carefully stooped down to hug Emma, brushing her hands through the blonde's hair.

"I'll call every day to check on you," she promised.

"Yes mom," Emma drawled, sarcastic.

Mary Margaret's embrace tightened. "I'll miss you."

"It's only for two weeks," Emma murmured, though her arms tightened around the brunette ever so slightly as well.

When the couple finally left and the door shut with a resounding click, Emma stretched herself out sideways on the couch, taking in the new silence of the apartment. The past couple weeks of living with Mary Margaret meant that her days were always full of sound, whether it was the brunette's ipod plugged into the speaker or the brunette herself singing a cheerful tune as she cooked or cleaned. Now there was nothing at all except for the occasional sound of someone else in the building, muffled through the thin walls. Back to the way it used to be.

"You didn't cover up the window," Emma murmured to the empty room, wiggling her socked feet where the sun warmed them. With nothing to do and no desire to start groping blindly around the place, she settled her hands across her stomach and drifted off to sleep.

The first thing she heard when she awoke was the sharp jangling of keys right outside the door, followed by a muttered curse. Emma resisted the urge to laugh. Ever since receiving the spare key to Emma's apartment, Mary Margaret had put it on its own key ring and decked it out. Last she'd seen, the thing was covered in a bunch of Disney-themed keychains, with some sort of mini giraffe stuffed animal clipped to the ring. She wouldn't have been surprised if it weighed five pounds in total.

She waited, listening, as the door was finally unlocked and swung open. The keys were dropped onto the kitchen counter as high heels clicked their way across the hardwood, almost wearily making their way inside. Hidden behind the couch in the open living space, Emma lifted up an arm and waved her hand, making her presence known.

"Hi, Kathryn. I'm over here."

She'd only met Kathryn once or twice, but the woman was a good friend of Mary Margaret's and she'd liked her well enough during their brief interactions. Besides, she promised to play nice. There was a long pause in which she waited for a response, then the high heels clicked a little closer.

"Kathryn had an unexpected emergency to deal with so she is now unavailable. I'm here in her place." The voice was low, husky and pleasant, a stark difference to the high pitched nasally voice of the blonde caretaker she'd been expecting. Emma sat up abruptly.

"Oh." She'd been uncomfortable enough with the thought of sharing the apartment with Kathryn, whom she barely knew, and now her caretaker was a total stranger? Great. Running a hand through her hair and hoping she looked presentable enough (seriously, what was she wearing? She'd put on the first T-shirt and pair of pants she'd gotten her hands on,) Emma set her feet on the floor. "Well… Hi. I'm Emma."

The high heels clicked around the couch until the woman was standing just to her side by the coffee table. "I'm Regina."

An old fashioned name. Emma wondered what she looked like. Her voice sounded attractive, certainly. "Nice to meet you, Regina. What time is it?"

"Ten after six. I intended on starting dinner, if that's agreeable with you."

"Sure. Make yourself at home." Emma made a wide gesture with her arms towards the kitchen area behind her. The high heels clicked away in that direction. "Mind taking off your shoes? Mary Margaret's pretty peculiar about hardwood floors, I won't hear the end of it when she gets back… Even though it's not her floor."

"Of course." There was some shuffling at the door, then feet padding softly into the kitchen. Emma just sat and listened for a moment, uncertain of what to do. She couldn't watch TV or read a book, and she certainly couldn't get any painting done. Music was an option, she supposed, but her phone didn't have much of a selection and that was usually Mary Margaret's thing. The brunette had done everything she could to keep Emma entertained ever since she came back from the hospital and now she felt rather lost without her.

Leaning back into the couch, she twiddled her thumbs. The fridge opened and closed and a few items were pulled from cabinets.

"What would you like for dinner?" Regina asked from across the room, familiarizing herself with the kitchen.

"Whatever's easiest to make. I'll eat anything." Emma wasn't going to start making requests. It was awkward enough as is, having a stranger tend to her. They ended up having pasta for dinner, with Emma on the couch with a bowl in hand and Regina perched at the other end of the couch. Considering how quickly Regina had managed to whip up dinner, the pasta was delicious. Certainly better than anything Emma could have prepared on her own, even if she wasn't currently blind as a bat.

"This is really good," she said around a mouthful.

"Thank you, dear."

The forced smile was evident in Regina's voice. Emma swallowed and lifted a brow.

"You're not really a caretaker, are you?"

The question must have taken Regina off guard because there was no response for a few long seconds. Then, "No, I'm not."

"Ah. How come Kathryn sent you?"

"She's a good friend of mine, and I owed her a favor." Regina sighed. "She said you were a pro bono case so she couldn't get any other caretakers to take you on for free. I wasn't busy, so… here I am."

Emma blindly stuck her fork into her bowl until she skewered up more pasta. "Oh. Well, I don't really need a caretaker, you know. I'm fine here on my own. So if you wanna get going, that's cool."

"Kathryn warned me you'd say that, and that I had to ignore it." There was amusement in Regina's voice. "So unfortunately, you're stuck with me."

Feigning a pout, Emma shoved more food into her mouth. "Darn. Well, at least you're a hell of a cook."

Regina chuckled. "Glad to hear it."

"So… what do you actually do?"

"I'm a physical therapist."

"For like athletes and stuff?"

Regina lifted a brow. Articulate, this one. "Sometimes. I'm an equine physical therapist, so I work with people and horses. What about you? What do you do?"

"Painter," Emma replied, motioning around the room with a callous wave of her hand. "Mostly I do commission work for interior decorators. Sometimes I sell my own stuff."

The walls of Emma's apartment were, indeed, covered with canvas paintings of all sizes and colors. Regina had noticed them earlier but only now took a moment to really examine them, appreciating the great amount of skill and detail in each. She'd always had a love of art and it surprised her that these masterful works had been painted by the blonde.

"You're very talented," Regina admitted, standing to move around the room and get a closer look. Emma's head tilted to follow her footsteps as she went.

"Thanks. You like art?" Unlike Mary Margaret, whose usual reaction was to briefly admire her new paintings and then gush about how lovely they were, Regina actually stopped in front of each painting and examined them in thoughtful silence, much like someone would examine art at a museum or gallery.

"I do. I've amassed quite a collection, actually."

How an equine physical therapist could afford to amass a large collection of professional artwork was beyond her, but Emma just smiled and nodded, setting her bowl down on the table when she found no more pasta to spear.

"This one is…" Regina paused in front of one particular painting, her dark eyes taking in the intricate lines and soft bloom of colors. "This one is magnificent."

When she turned around, Emma was cocking her head to one side, expression puzzled despite the bandages covering her eyes. Regina cleared her throat. "The one with the chestnut stallion galloping across the shimmering plains. It's beautiful." There were a few paintings of horses spread out around the room, but this one was immediately her favourite.

"Ah. Yeah, that one." Emma nodded, grinning to herself. "That's one of my favourites too. I've had some generous offers, but I keep telling everyone: that one's not for sale."

"Is it special to you?" Regina turned back to the painting to lean in and admire the brush strokes, wondering just how in the world the stallion looked like it could jump out of the canvas at any moment. The grassy plains it ran across seemed to glitter, a dusting of silver and gold that Regina very nearly touched with her fingertips before pulling her hand back.

"In a way. I spent a long time on that one, and it just… pops, y'know?"

Regina nodded agreeably - then remembering that Emma couldn't actually see her, "Yes."

"I haven't been able to recreate it, no matter what I try. Nothing's ever looked the same or felt so alive. I keep it around as inspiration, I guess. Maybe one day I'll be able to paint like that again."

Emma spoke of it like it had been a stroke of luck, but Regina knew that such talent didn't come from luck. When she looked back at the blonde woman with the bandages over her eyes, something tugged at her heartstrings, a sliver of pity and perhaps something else.

As if feeling eyes on her, Emma tipped her head down. "On the assumption that I get my eyesight back, anyways."

"I'm sure you will." Regina gave the painting another longing glance, then returned to the other end of the couch. "Do you mind if I ask?"

"About my injury?"

"Only if you want to."

"It's a long story." Emma chuckled. "The short of it is; I did something stupid and careless, and now I'm paying the price. If I never paint again, I guess I brought it on myself."

"That's not very hopeful of you."

Emma shrugged. "I'm not a very 'hopeful' kind of person."

"Your paintings say otherwise."

"Oh? What else do my paintings say about me?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Emma grinned, almost bashfully, and shrugged her shoulders. It had been a long time since she'd bantered with someone (and for an anti-social person, she didn't have many friends in the first place) so this was proving to be a pleasant surprise.

Regina smiled and shook her head a little. She wasn't normally this friendly with strangers, nor did she tease people in conversation. Maybe it was the fact that Emma couldn't see her and didn't know what she looked like, or that Emma hardly knew anything about her at all. Being anonymous was a relief, in a way, and she was starting to think that this arrangement wouldn't be so bad after all.

"When do we need to change your bandages?" she asked after a moment of companionable silence. Emma pursed her lips, tensing slightly in place, and Regina wondered why.

"Before I go to bed, I suppose," was the vague answer. "Wanna watch TV? Mary Margaret bought me the Friends box set. I can still listen to it."

Regina agreed easily, and they spent the next few hours marathoning season one with a bowl of popcorn. Emma knew the show well enough that she still laughed at every joke and every cue, and it was that evening that she discovered the beautiful sound that was Regina's laughter.

By the time the blonde started yawning, they agreed to call it a night. Regina was cleaning up and putting things away when Emma stood and hovered by the end of the couch, her thigh against the armrest.

"The couch pulls out," she said, "and there are spare pillows and blankets in the closet."

"... I'm sorry?"

"Uh, you're… I thought you were staying here?"

"Oh." Regina paused. "Kathryn would have, but I can't, I'm sorry."

"Ah. That's fine." Emma blushed and waved it off. "All the supplies for my bandages are over…" she paused to orient herself with the room. "-there, in that cabinet."

Regina went to the mentioned cabinet and began pulling out supplies. "I have a young son at home," she explained, surprising even herself for saying it. She rarely told people about her son unless absolutely necessary.

"You have a son," Emma repeated, surprised. "How old is he?"

"He just turned six." Regina returned with the supplies and moved Emma back onto the couch. The blonde began unwrapping her current bandages on her own, a frown on her face.

"I don't wanna keep you from your kid."

"He's not home alone, so don't use it as an excuse to get rid of me." She'd hoped it would coax a smile or a chuckle out of the blonde, but Emma frowned even further, absolutely baffling her.

"Right. His father."

"No," Regina corrected. "His parents aren't in the picture. Henry's adopted. My sister is staying with me, so she's watching him tonight." Again, another admission that she normally wouldn't have told anyone except for her closest of friends. And she could count those on one hand.

"Oh. Wow. That's- that's really great of you. Adopting him, I mean." Her voice might have wavered ever so slightly. If Regina noticed it, she didn't comment on it.

Emma ducked her head as the last of the gauze came undone, carefully removing the pads from atop her eyes. Regina had turned on a lamp earlier and now had to withhold a gasp as the light revealed the ugly wounds across Emma's closed eyelids. It was like someone had taken shards of sandpaper and glass to her eyes, ruining the skin with a smattering of tiny cuts.

"Sorry," Emma muttered, turning her head aside a little in embarrassment. That snapped Regina out of her shock.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"It's not pretty to look at, I know." Emma gave a self deprecating smile. "Mary Margaret fainted the first time she saw it."

At that, Regina snorted. "Well, I am no Mary Margaret. Turn your head this way."

Emma did as told and kept quiet as Regina replaced her bandages with fresh gauze and ointment, wrapping her back up with quick but gentle precision. When she was finished, her hand lingered against the blonde's head, fingers grazing the gauze.

"You'll get better in no time," Regina said softly. Then she pulled her hand away and returned the supplies to the cabinet. When she turned around, Emma was halfway across the living room and fumbling her way towards the bedroom door. Regina hurried to her side and grasped her by the arm to help lead. "I'm here to help you around, you know."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Emma chuckled, her fingers curling around the doorframe as they moved into the next room. Regina led her to the bed and retrieved a pair of pajamas for the blonde as per her instructions on where they were located (pajamas were a loose term because Regina could only find boxers and tank tops in that drawer.) Once the blonde had dressed, she led her to the bathroom. Emma knew where all her things were - it wasn't hard, there was a single toothbrush in a glass cup and one tube of toothpaste on the counter - so Regina waited in the bedroom while she did her thing.

Emma wasn't much for personal items, that was for sure. The bedroom itself felt very impersonal; just a bed, a dresser and drawer, some clothes strewn about. The corner by the window had the most items of interest. A canvas was propped up on an easel with a half-painted image of a chestnut horse. On the floor tucked just under the easel was a box full of paint tubes, brushes, and other such supplies. Regina stepped closer to examine it, recognizing the beautiful stallion from the painting in the living room.

"It's the same horse," came Emma's voice, startling Regina. The brunette turned to find the blonde lingering in the doorway of the attached bathroom, her head tilted to one side.

"How did you-?"

"It's the only interesting thing in here to look at," Emma chuckled. "I don't exactly have photos or personal items lying around."

Out of pure curiosity, "Why not?"

Emma shrugged, her fingertips touching the wall as she carefully walked further into the room. She was in no danger of bumping into a drawer or anything, so Regina let her move on her own.

"Don't have much of sentimental value, I guess. Just my paintings."

When she came close enough, Regina gently touched her shoulder and directed her to her bed. Emma slid herself under the covers, remaining in a sitting position with her back against the headboard.

"Really? Nothing from friends or family? Surely you keep some photos?"

Emma seemed to consider this question. "I've got some stuff from Mary Margaret and David, they're all out in the living room. No family though, so no photos to keep."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Again, the blonde's shoulders lifted in a shrug. She fiddled with the hem of her blanket for a moment, fingers worrying at the soft fabric, then, "I'm glad you adopted your kid. That's all an orphan wants, you know. To be loved and wanted."

Regina nodded wordlessly, at a loss for words. When Emma slid down and pulled the covers up to her chin, she cleared her throat.

"What time should I come back tomorrow?"

"Whenever's good for you. I'll be fine here until then. I promise not to burn the apartment down." Emma lifted a hand in salute, a stiff and joking gesture that felt out of place.

Regina pursed her lips. "Kathryn gave me your cell phone number. I'll tex- err, call to check that you're awake before I come over. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Is my phone still on the nightstand?"

Regina looked to the nightstand, found the phone, checked its battery, and automatically reached down to plug in its charger. Nodding to herself, she turned off the bedside lamp. "It's right here, charging. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Emma's head tilted in her direction, and even in the darkness, she saw the blonde's lips curl into a smile. "Sure. Thanks for doing this, Regina."

"You're welcome, dear."

There was a pause. Regina gazed across the small room at the incomplete painting. A question nagged at the back of her mind and she found herself blurting it out before she could stop herself. "Why a chestnut stallion?"

"Sorry?"

"Your painting. The one outside, and the one in here. Why a chestnut stallion?"

Emma's brows lifted. "Oh. Well, I see it in my dreams. Which is funny because I'm not a huge horse fan or anything, but yeah, I see it in my dreams pretty often. The same chestnut stallion. Maybe it's my spirit animal or something." She laughed. Then, "Why do you ask?"

A pause. Regina blinked. "He looks just like my childhood steed, Rocinante." And before Emma could say anything, she cleared her throat and said, "Good night, Emma."

"Night."

Regina padded softly away. Emma strained her ears to listen, hearing the click of the brunette slipping on her high heels and the jangle of the keys. A moment later, the door shut and the lock snapped into place, and Emma was alone again.

She wondered what Regina looked like. She tried to imagine the woman mothering a six year old little boy. She thought of Regina riding a chestnut stallion named Rocinante.

No image conjured up in her mind seemed to do the woman justice, but she could not stop thinking of it, could not stop wondering.

What do you look like?