A/N: Just a quick note to say that this story is only lightly edited for grammar & spelling. The flow of the RP process is being kept intact. Also, just an FYI for this AU. We have Emma's birthday set as April 12th [JMo's birthday] and this story starts in late August of 2011. We make changes to canon to suit our plot. Deal.

Regina steps outside, squinting at the early morning sunlight, and walks over to her beloved apple tree. It's time to harvest for her cider production later in the weekend. She loses herself in the delight of finding and plucking each perfect apple, buffing it against her sleeve before dropping it in the basket. The serenity distracts her from thoughts of that damned woman who is upsetting her perfect order.

Emma turns onto a block full of perfect manicured lawns and pearly marble pillars. She rests a hand on the book in her passenger's seat. Henrys leather bound books of stories was left with her on their last visit and bringing it to him was an excuse to see him light up. She inhales heavily, realizing it's unlikely he will be home alone. She pulls the bug to a stop in front of the familiar residence before stretching over to lift the heavy tome. She pulls herself out of the car and uses her hips to slam the door shut behind her.

At the sound of the rusty death trap pulling up in front of her house, Regina pauses and frowns. This is NOT what she wants to be dealing with on her cider weekend. Taking a deep breath, she returns to her selection process, hoping that she's just imagined the sound.

Soon enough, the telltale sound of Emma Swan's boots colliding with her sidewalk assaults Regina's ears. Without waiting, she turns to study the woman, frown deepening when she sees that damned book. "Ms. Swan..."

Emma drops her eyes and stops hard at the sound of Regina's voice, "Madam Mayor..." she thrusts the book out in front of her as if to shield herself from the bevy of insults she was accustomed to, "...Is Henry here? He left this is the backseat..." is all she can really muster, there is not talking to this woman, she has grown wise. Say little, and get out.

He's cleaning his room," Regina replies. "It IS Saturday, after all." She stares at the blonde, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile at the obvious discomfort of being in her presence. Good, she shouldn't get too complacent. When there is no immediate answer, Regina sighs and get to her feet to walk over to Emma, arm outstretched for the book. "Let me set that aside. I'll give it to him when he's done."

Emma hands the book over gruffly, disappointed she can't give it to the boy directly but not wanting to start a scene. She shoves her hands into her pockets and attempts to be interested in the mayor's chore. Maybe if she idles she will catch a glimpse of him. She sways a bit and attempts to drop any sour from her tone, "How is he Regina?"

Setting the book next to her basket, Regina returns to her task. She stops at Emma's question, considering her answer. There's something different in the blonde's tone, something that gives her pause. "He's not happy about his chores, but he's doing them," she says. "And when he's finished, he can help me with the apple preparations or, more likely, he'll go down to Granny's for more of that wretched cocoa that he loves so dearly. Why do you ask?" And she finds herself curious to hear the answer.

Emma rubs the side of her neck aimlessly and keeps her gaze away from the brunette's, she laughs lightly at the answer. Obviously she is concerned more with things beyond chores and treats, "He's lonely, Regina. You aren't exactly the pinnacle of social achievement, so neither of us can be shocked." She feels bold with this statement, but Henry's obsession with the book and its story have grown more unhealthy recently.

Regina opens her mouth to say something, but no words come. Blinking in surprise, she bends down to pick up the basket and the book, practically throwing the heavy book at the blonde. "I'm done picking for now," she declares with a grand gesture toward the house. "Please, Ms. Swan, go give that thing to my son. I'll be in the kitchen when you're finished." She doesn't wait for Emma to reply, just stalks into the house while wishing she had her magic to really DO something to this woman that has interrupted her life.

Emma doesn't hesitate to retrieve the book and follow the mayor inside. She breaks paths with her to excitedly bound up the stairs. She finds Henry making his bed with the sad expression on his face she had come to expect. He hears the door creaking and a smile breaks across his face as he whips around. Her face reflects his as she realizes his excitement has nothing to do with his found property. They embrace tightly.

Regina pulls out the apples she's stored in the refrigerator from the day before and sets to washing, peeling, and chopping them. This will be a smaller batch of cider than normal, but it's still an early harvest. She repeatedly glances up toward Henry's room, wondering what the two of them are talking about. More than once, she wishes she could have the easy camaraderie with Henry that his birth mother has. So intent on her thoughts, she gets distracted enough for the blade to slip and slice into her finger. "Damn it!" she yells, throwing the knife aside as blood wells up across the tip of her left thumb.

Emma does not want to give the Regina the satisfaction of ending their meeting and so, after catching up with her son and an extended goodbye, she quietly steps out of his room, pulling the door closed behind her. She feels her empathy for his loneliness swell inside of her. She exhales the trace pain and closes her eyes. Her moment of calm is interrupted by Regina's exclamation from the kitchen, she moves back down the staircase and through the dining room and pushes through the kitchen door, "Regina?"

Regina stands there, staring at her bleeding thumb. The minute she hears Emma's voice, she glances up with a frown before shoving the cutting board away. "It's all ruined," she grumbles, trying not to let the pain color her tone, as she turns toward the sink. "This entire batch has been ruined by a dull knife." She won't dare admit just how sharp she keeps all her cutlery.

"Oh, Jesus, Regina", Emma goes into an automatic response and grabs the mayors wrist. She pulls the brunette to the sink and turns on the stainless faucet. She waits until it is cool and slides Regina's thumb under the running water, "It's only a few apples."

Regina hisses as the water splashes across her thumb, but doesn't struggle against Emma's touch. "You don't understand the process, Ms. Swan," she replies, not mentioning the fact that all of her magic is a process and you never mess with magic like that. She closes her eyes, biting her lower lip as the pain finally registers. "Just... Thank you," she finally says.

Emma blinks, reentering the moment, realizing how urgent her grip on the woman is. She releases Regina's wrist and takes half a step back, "Of course." She chews at the edge of her mouth eying the cut, once the blood had stopped the cut looked much less serious and Emma feels embarrassed by her heroic antics.

"First Aid kit's in the bathroom, second door on the left," Regina says as she turns the water off. "If you wouldn't mind?" The wound bleeds only slightly, and sluggishly at that, but the pain continues to throb. Not for the first time in twenty-eight years, she wishes for just a hint of her magic to heal this. Glancing back at the island, she can see that only the one apple has truly been ruined by this... accident. This cider batch isn't nearly as destroyed as she thought.

Emma nods slowly and paces to the washroom. She leans down and pulls open the cabinet doors. Her hand finds the bright red and white box and she pulls it out, careful not to pull any other products out with it. She has to pace herself not to 'rush' back to Regina, a fact that surprises her. She pushes back through the kitchen door and clicks open the case.

Regina imperiously holds out her hand toward Emma, her expectation written clearly on her face. The silence settling between them is disconcerting, and she finds that she needs to fill the space with sound. "Was..." She clears her throat, swallowing past the lump there. "Was Henry happy to get his book back?"

Emma shuffles though the bandages of various sizes and pulls one out she approves of. She rips it out of its paper. Her own carefulness and willingness to follow Regina's instructions surprises her. "He seemed pleased," she states her eyes still fixed on the wound and her wrapping of it. She finished her task and smirked at Regina, "Good as new."

A new pain lances through her heart at Henry's happiness to see Emma, but Regina says nothing. Her eyes follow Emma's movements, wondering if the blonde will actually go so far as to kiss it to make it better. Internally rolling her eyes, she offers another smile at Emma. "Thank you. Hopefully I'll be more careful with my cutlery upkeep." She is startled to realize that she doesn't want the other woman to leave just yet. "Would you care to help? Henry will probably be more inclined to do so if it's more than just the two of us."

Emma's eyebrows shot up, "Uhm...sure." She is taken by surprise and tries to suppress it best she can. She pushes the First Aid Kit to the corner of the counter. "Give me a task, I don't know the first thing about the kitchen, except that it's where the microwave lives." She laughs lightly at her own joke.

Rolling her eyes at the confirmation of Emma's ineptitude in the kitchen, Regina moves to pull out a second apron and tosses it to the blonde. "Put that on. No one works in my kitchen without one." She doesn't wait for a reply, and tosses the bloodied fruit on the cutting board into the trash before pulling out two new cutting boards and knives. The counter gets a quick wipe down, then she sets an apple on each board. "You DO know how to peel an apple, don't you?"

Emma catches the apron and, after a sideways glance, ties it around her waist. Had she ever peeled an apple before? No. Was she prepared to let Regina know? No. "Who doesn't know how to peel an apple?" She widens her eyes quickly and grabs the knife and apple and dord what she can only believe is 'peeling an apple'.

Regina bites the inside of her cheek as she can hear the bravado in Emma's voice. Picking up her own apple, she begins to peel it, trying not to laugh at the pitiful job Emma's doing. "It's not as difficult as it looks," she says finally. "Henry's quite good at it already."

As if on cue, Henry appears in the doorway. His face lights up as he sees Emma standing there. "You're letting Emma help with the cider?" he asks, then turns surprised eyes on Emma. "She NEVER lets anyone help!"

"That's not true, Henry," Regina replies quickly. "I let you help."

Emma winks at Henry without Regina taking notice and continues her duty. "It's riveting work." She smiles and looks to the brunette, trying to see a smile of any sorts across her face. Nothing. She looks back down at Henry. "How does the apron look?"

Henry grins. "It looks like you're wearing my mom's clothes," he says, biting back a chuckle as his mother's eyes narrow slightly before shifting to take in Emma's figure.

Regina finishes peeling the apple and starts to core and slice it. "Henry, you can put on your apron and grab the peeler in the drawer. Perhaps you can show Ms. Swan how to properly peel an apple?" She turns to fill a second bowl with the lemon water for the apple slices.

Emma decides her remarks are better left untouched. Henry pulls up beside her and begins working at a pace that embarrasses the blonde. The two exchange playful glances and try diligently to stay focused despite their mutual glee at quality time. Emma catches Regina's stoned face and feels a momentary pang of guilt. Is it selfish of her to be here?

Several minutes go by in silence before Regina stops her work. She watches Emma and Henry, impressed that Emma is finally picking up how to peel an apple. "Henry," she finally says, "when you're finished here, and if Ms. Swan is amenable, perhaps the two of you could go to Granny's and bring back some lunch? You know I hate cooking during cider weekend."

Henrys eyes widen with excitement which invokes a wide set smile on Emma's face. Emma looks at the brunette questionably. "Henry go get your shoes." He rushes off quickly. Her gaze returns to Regina, "What's all this about?" Her meaning is implied and, for the first time all afternoon, she looks intently at the mayor, searching for an answer. She slowly removes her apron and raises an eyebrow.

Regina grabs the last of their apples and starts to core and slice them, pointedly not meeting Emma's gaze for a long moment or two. "This is all about my son eating something nutritious while my cider preparations take over the kitchen." She finally meets the woman's gaze with a faint smirk. "Oh, don't worry, Ms. Swan, I'll give Henry money for the food." Before she realizes what she's doing, her eyes drop to Emma's lips for the briefest of glances before she returns her attention to the apples.

Emma's jaw clenches and her eyes drop. The sting leaves the faintest of moisture in her eyes and she is quick to blink it away. At least nothing is new, she has come to expect it, it's her fault for getting comfortable just for a moment. This is a battle zone and she has forgotten that briefly. She can hear Henry bang around on the floor above and pines for his return.

Regina is startled to feel a pang of remorse as she catches the other woman's discomfort at her words. A part of her wants to apologize, but there's no need in making the blonde feel TOO comfortable. She glances up at the sound of Henry's stomping about and sighs. "If the two of you would rather eat there, you can," she finally says softly. "I can make myself a salad to nibble on while I'm working." And then the words come out before she can stop them. "I'm sorry about the money comment. It was..."

Before she can say anything more, Henry once again appears in the kitchen doorway. "Ready, Emma!" he says brightly. "What're you hungry for, Mom?"

Regina smiles against the pain of his obvious adoration of this woman, but shakes her head. "I'll be fine, Henry. You go on."

Emma is ripped back into some warmth as her son pulls at her hand. She nods at Regina, "Madam Mayor," in a polite goodbye. A weathered smile forms as her son drags her though the house. Why does it hurt? It shouldn't matter. They make their way out to the rust-stained bug and Emma unlocks Henry's door before her own and crosses over to take her own seat.

Regina works on the apples in silence until she hears the bug drive away. The moment she knows she's alone, the pent-up tears fall. She tries to rationalize that they're from the cut on her thumb, but deep down she knows it's more than that. "Well, Regina," she says to herself, "you certainly made sure that neither one of them wants to be anywhere near you. Congratulations."