When Emma Swan gave her baby up for adoption, she truly believed that it was his best chance in life. And she still firmly believed it. The newly 18 year old with a criminal record, no job prospects, and no concept of family could not have possibly been the best option for the uncorrupted infant. But if asked the life she imagined for him it would have involved a kindly mother with large doe eyes and a penchant for cardigans, a father with an easy grin and love of football, and maybe a Golden Retriever named Hank or Buddy that slept at the foot of his bed.

In the first few years after her baby was gone and she was alone once again, Emma couldn't stop thinking about him, causing her chest to ache with an emptiness that she didn't think was possible. The only thing that could give her solace was thinking of a little boy with soft brown hair and her smile, but a smile untarnished by abandonment and pain, in a happy home. So of all the scenarios she dreamed up for him her mind had never conjured up a woman like Regina Mills. Though maybe that was a good thing, she considered.

Despite Henry's currently tumultuous relationship with his adoptive mother, she must have done something right because he turned out to be a pretty great kid. He was kind, imaginative, and smart; so much smarter than Emma had been much to her relief. Her education had been dismal at best with haggard teachers just trying to get through a class with their sanity intact and apathetic foster parents who couldn't be bothered with parent-teacher conferences because it would interrupt their drinking schedule or why invest the time into a young stranger they didn't intend to keep. The younger version of herself just kept her head down, barely speaking and barely passing each grade. To this day she still was horrible with numbers and avoided writing when she could. She worried that she may have passed on her inferior genetics to him, that he would be slow in school, but he was bright and inquisitive like children should be.

What she liked most about Henry though was his capacity to love and how he did so freely with no reservation. The boy would make Marco laugh with old knock-knock jokes when he looked particularly sad. He told Ruby he like her smile best and he made Granny a picture in art class, which she proudly hung behind the counter. Henry liked to help Dr. Hopper with Pongo and he could even make Leroy secretly grin (on the inside of course) with just an overly enthusiastic wave and hello. And then in the few instances, when he wrapped his string bean arms around her torso for an unexpected, tight hug it took her breath away. She was in awe of this little person who had come from her and yet didn't reflect any of her scars or pain that she surely would have unintentionally impressed upon him had she been the one to raise him. He was perfect and she would not want to change a single thing about him, including his mother.

"Sheriff." Only one person could say her title with that much shrewd apathy. Her eyes shot up from staring at her coffee cup to find the very woman she had been thinking about standing in front of her, looking unimpressed as usual.

"Madame Mayor." She greeted her warily, her gaze shifting around the diner to see if she were doing something wrong, as that was generally the only reason the mayor ever deemed fit to speak with her. Then she saw Regina's red smirk, obviously amused that she could make the other woman squirm with only a word and her imperial stare. Emma huffed to herself, reminded that she was a grown adult and would not be intimidated so easily. She straightened her posture and held eye contact, "Is there something I can help you with?"

The brunette's grin widened, apparently equally pleased with Emma in her ability to stand up to her. "I hope I'm not interrupting your… breakfast."

She said the last word in a tone that would suggest calling her untouched bear-claw something edible let alone breakfast was generous of her. The sheriff was surprised to find her meal was left uneaten, her favorite food lost to her roaming thoughts. She found that it didn't appeal to her much anymore and pushed her plate away, "I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought."

"Yes, well, it's occurred to me that I've been rude." Emma nearly choked on her coffee expertly kept warm by Ruby, having been mid sip at the announcement. She managed to veil her shock by hiding momentarily behind the brim of the mug.

She cleared her throat of any lingering liquid, "And how is that?"

"You did rescue me from a burning building the other day, albeit it was your fault the fire was started in the first place."

Emma quickly made to defend herself, "I didn't know Mr. Gold would-"

But Regina waved her hand dismissively cutting her off. "It's neither here nor there. I realized, however, that I had not expressed any gratitude on the matter."

"Oh." She blinked owlishly for a moment. "Well, you're welcome."

"This isn't the thank you Ms. Swan." The older woman's irritation flared.

"Okay…" Thoroughly confused she waited for further explanation.

"I want to thank you by inviting you to dinner. Tonight if you're agreeable." This time the sheriff was unable to conceal her surprise as her jaw dropped open. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to find her words.

"Dinner? Like at your house? With you and Henry?"

The mayor narrowed her dark eyes impatiently, "Yes, my house with Henry and I seeing as we live there. Unless you'd like yet another grease-laden meal at this fine dining establishment."

Her words dripped with sarcasm. Emma sighed. This whole interaction was proving to be more trouble than she really wanted especially this early in the morning, and was making her rethink her stance on Regina as Henry's mother. She almost started to decline her offer, saying it really wouldn't be necessary. After all, they could barely interact for five minutes without grating on each other's nerves let alone for the duration of an entire meal. But instead she found herself ignoring the tart comment and giving the woman a faint, obliging smile. "That sounds really great. What time should I be over?"

"Dinner will be at 6." She declared with the obvious but unstated implication that there would be no debate over the time. If the older woman had been anticipating a rejection, her expression did not betray her. She remained unruffled.

"Okay." Emma nodded, "See you then."

"See you then." Regina parroted at her. Of course she couldn't resist punctuating with a perfectly arched eyebrow, "And don't be late. Henry has a strict school schedule to adhere to."

Before she could respond, the brunette was gone with a twirl of her long, black dress coat; leaving behind a delicate breeze of expensive perfume as well as the perplexed sheriff. Emma's shoulders drooped, releasing a tension that she had not realized gathered there. Her dealings with Regina were always as such, fraught with tension. They seemed to prowl around each other like alley cats, untrusting and ever watching for a misstep, causing the other to uncoil and lash out with a clawed phrase.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Emma realized she didn't have much time to ruminate on her, at best, tenuous relationship with the mayor. She needed to be getting to the sheriff's station to start taking calls. Mrs. Ginger liked to start phoning the department promptly at 9 o'clock every day about some newly invented plight from missing garden gnomes to neighbor's cars parked in front of her house or maybe Pongo chasing the ducks in her pond again. And if she didn't answer the elderly woman would call Regina's office, which meant Emma would be getting an earful from the mayor about tardiness and how to properly do her job or she would find someone who could; a threat that she heard often enough without any provocation.

Abandoning her staling donut and cooling coffee she left money on the table. She waved goodbye to Ruby who grinned back at her as she was trying to take Tom the pharmacist's breakfast order but he kept having sneezing fits. Emma dipped out of the diner with the jingle of bells laughing behind her at this twist of fate.