Regina loved a rainy day. She was self-aware enough to know it had a lot to do with the satisfaction she took in seeing everyone else spoiled for a bright, cheerful day. Their picnics were ruined, they ran for their cramped little homes, while she reclined by a blazing fire in her manor and listened to the thunder, the rain, the gushing wind. Oh, it was heavenly. Sure, she was a cliché, but she came by it honestly.

A good book—something with no romance—a glass of merlot, and a warm fire. Nothing could ruin that.

Someone knocked at the door.

Regina had forgotten where she lived.

She answered the door to find a drowned rat. One with blonde hair.

"Ms. Swan," she said cheerily, "I know I've always said you didn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain…"

"You can let me in, 'Gina. You owe me that much."

Regina shrugged and stepped out of the way. Emma hustled inside, huddling in on herself under a rumpled, waterlogged jacket. Regina actually felt some sympathy for her. Must've been the wine.

"Let's get you out of those wet clothes," she said, closing the door behind her. And locking it. "I can't have you dripping all over my Berlin marble."

"Yeah." Emma was still hugging herself. And shivering. "Sure."

Not anything about I'm sure I don't have the ass for any of your dresses. Or even I just came out of the rain in a white shirt, you're the one that's dripping. They were right there. It was almost rude, not saying something.

With a harrumph, Regina walked past Emma, gesturing her to follow as ardently as she'd cast a spell. Emma trailed after her—dripping on the Berlin marble—all the way to her bedroom. By the time she was through the door, Regina had set out some dry clothes for her. Emma picked them up off the bed. A 'Walk Off Cancer 10K Fundraiser' T-shirt and a pair of jeans with the knees worn out.

She started out of her own clothes. "Let me guess, this is one of the outfits you keep around for a strapping young man to rip you out of?"

That was more like it. "I do gardening in them, so as far as you're concerned, they're evening wear." While Emma was dressing, Regina examined herself in the mirror. Hair, fine, make-up, fine, breasts, wonderful. Of course they were. Why wouldn't they be?

"You know I don't actually have a penis, right?" Emma asked, hopping into Regina's jeans. "Despite all the jokes…"

"I never said you had a penis, merely that I wouldn't be surprised—"

"I haven't got anything you haven't seen before," Emma assured her, muffled by the shirt she was pulling on. "You can stare all you want."

"I am. But why look at the second most beautiful woman in the room?" Regina turned away from the mirror. "Actually, come to think of it, I may have a magazine with a cover story on Jennifer Lawrence somewhere—Ms. Swan!"

"What?" Emma asked, wringing out her hair.

Regina nodded her head at the floor. Emma's pants, shirt, and jacket were in puddles on it, along with a set of bra and panties.

"Give me five seconds, I'll hang 'em up, geez…"

"And your underwear?"

"They were wet. Don't say it."

"Oh, anything I could possibly say would take distant second to you pulling a Lindsey Lohan in my clothes."

"Relax, your highness, my nipples aren't even hard."

"Why is it that every time I do you a favor, you feel the need to make me end up—"

"Could we just not?" Emma's hand was held up, as straight and strong as if she were about to do magic, and Regina's eyes traveled from her solid grip on the air, down her unshaking arm, to eyes that hadn't gotten any dryer since she'd come in.

She said nothing.

Emma huffed. "Look, I don't want to deal with Mary-Margaret, or David, or Killian, any of them. I just want to be left alone and—not catch pneumonia. I figure you'd be eager to return the favor. That and not kill me."

"No promises," Regina said. "Come on, I have a fire going."

Do not, Regina told herself. Do not look at Emma Swan shivering by the fire, too drawn in on herself to even hold her hands up to the flame, and feel sorry for her. Her, who had everything. Who took everything, took Henry and Robin, whose mother took her mother, whose family took her kingdom and her curse and probably even her sister. Do not try to ingratiate yourself with her. Do not care about her. Just let her suffer alongside you. It's what both of you deserve.

Regina found herself making hot chocolate, found herself filling two cups, found herself bringing one to Emma.

But there were no marshmallows in it.

"Tell me," she said.

"Suddenly you want to hear my troubles?"

"I could use a good laugh."

Emma finally pulled out of the fetal position she'd locked herself in, extending on hand to the fire. "I lost control of my magic. Just like the Snow Queen said I would. I blew a hole in the police station… made my entire family fear me… nearly killed Hook…"

"See? It's not all that bad."

Regina got the sense that Emma was angry with herself for the smile she gave. Good. "You heard already?"

"I wanted to hear it from you. It's good that you can talk about it. You'll be able to tell someone who cares."

Emma nodded to herself. Took her hot chocolate. "I don't think I could stand someone caring about me right now. Trying to make up to me for… whatever. Being in jail wasn't the greatest, but at least you could keep your head down, stay in your cell, not have to… lance every boil."

Something in Regina was seething, steaming, and she knew it was time to leave. "Not to compare scars—but I would've given a lot to have my mother afraid of me."

"It's not awesome," Emma said lowly.

She had nothing better to do. Henry would be proud of her. The woman was her only ally. Reasons flittered through Regina's head as she heated up the water, poured the spaghetti in, started in on the seasoning. Halfway through cooking the meatball, Emma came in, looking a great deal dryer.

Regina stirred the sauce. "Smells good, doesn't it?"

"I just thought I'd get more wood for the fire."

"Would you like me to find you a flannel jacket?"

Emma ignored her, leaving through the backdoor, returning a few minutes later with an armful of logs. "It does smell good," she said in passing as she trudged over to the fire in the other room.

Regina hemmed and hawed and thought about how ridiculous it was, playing host to a princess who would be welcomed with open arms into just about any house in the township. But no, she, she had to be inconvenienced and make room for this interloper, just like she'd always done, and after Emma had ruined her life countless times, accused her of murder, punched her in the face, stolen her lover…

Regina kept trying to make herself resent Emma, but the anger was so far away. Idly, she took the hand that wasn't holding a wooden spoon and summoned up a fireball. She could be hateful over her circumstances, her world, all the things that had always vexed her—just not about Emma.

Hissing, she set a minor spell to keep the spoon stirring and went to find Emma. The rain had died, but there was still a wintery chill outside, and Emma was on her ass in front of the fire, warming herself back up.

"Do you want garlic bread?"

"What?" Emma asked, about as confused as she'd been when Regina had tried to explain magic to her.

Regina explained things as if Emma had failed to grasp how a rabbit came out of a top hat. "If I make garlic bread, it'll be too much for just me. I was making spaghetti and meatballs, but those can go in the refrigerator as leftovers. But I'm not going to have leftover garlic bread, because it doesn't taste any good, so if I make some, you'd better want half of it."

Emma was staring now. "You are just… such a mom."

"It happens when a tiny person lives with you for eleven years after they're born. Garlic bread. Yes or no?"

"Yes. Please." Emma shrugged. "Thank you."

"You'll want some of the spaghetti as well, I suspect."

"I'm not…" Emma's stomach grumbled. Regina guessed that Emma hadn't done her brooding somewhere within walking distance of a pastry shop, which surprised her. "I could eat."

"Very well."

Regina didn't feel lonely. She and Emma weren't talking, certainly, weren't making eye contact, weren't playing footsie, were just eating at the same table and might as well not exist as far as the other was concerned. But Regina didn't feel as lonely as she did eating by herself. It was strange.

"This is really good."

Regina looked at Emma, about to chastise her for talking with her mouth full, but Emma was just wiping off her lips with a napkin. "Thank you."

"You should do a cooking show."

"What?"

"Public access." Emma nodded. "You put on a nice dress, you get in front of a camera, you show Storybrooke how to bake things. If the outside world can have the Barefoot Contessa, we can have the High-Heeled Evil Queen."

Regina pursed her lips. "I'll do it."

"What, seriously?"

"If you call your parents."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Such a mom."

"They must be worried. You would be too, if Henry were gone."

"If Henry were my age, I'd trust him to look after himself."

"If Henry were my age, I'd still want to know he was alright. And I'm…" Regina did the calculations in her head. Her life in the Enchanted Kingdom, her time in Storybrooke, her time with Henry which was so different from how it'd been before that it seemed… Anyway, she decided to stop doing the calculations. "Older than you."

"But looks aren't everything."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "I'm not saying you have to pour out your feelings for Mary-Margaret to bathe in. Just leave a message. Send a text."

"She doesn't have texts."

Regina blinked. "She doesn't have texts?"

"You're the one who trapped this town in, like, the eighties. Everyone here has a flip-phone. She doesn't even know how to use the MP3 player."

"What's an MP3?"

Emma sighed. "The only way to contact her is to call her phone. And, since she'll be waiting for my call, she'll answer it, and then I'll have to have a long talk with her that I don't want to have."

"Well, you have to find some way of letting her know you're alright." Regina sipped her wine. "Otherwise, no cooking show."

Emma picked up her wineglass, examining the contents like a foreign species. "She does have an answering machine."

"This is the stupidest thing I've done in thirty years," Regina said, typing in Mary-Margaret's number. Obviously, she didn't keep it on speed-dial.

"Are we not counting putting this town in this world in the first place?" Emma asked. She had Mary-Margaret's number typed in, but not dialed.

"We've been over that—"

"No, no, I get it, but out of all the possible alternate worlds, you picked here? Why not Star Trek?"

"Well, at the time, Ronald Reagan was President, it seemed like you people had a good thing going. And Star Trek's not an alternate universe, Emma, it's a fictional story."

"Sure thing. I'll let Bo Peep know."

"Not every story is an alternate universe."

"What about the Marvel universe?"

"That… actually is an alternate universe."

Emma boggled. "I could've met Iron Man?"

"I'm dialing." Regina pressed send, Mary-Margaret picked up, Emma dialed herself. "Hello, Mary-Margaret, I just wanted to drop a quick line and see how you're doing. Oh, you're waiting for a call? This will just take a minute, it's really important… oh, uh, I just wanted to know what you would like for Christmas?"

Emma paused in her own call to look at Regina, mouthing 'Christmas?'

Regina made a rude gesture. "No, I want to get you something. Yes, I'm sure you can't ask for anything when you have such a lovely family… and political power… but there has to be something… yes, I suppose a combined gift for Henry would work… an X-Box One? Mary-Margaret, have you paid any attention to how Microsoft developed that thing? I understand he likes Halo… you let him play Halo? Mary-Margaret, those are M-rated games! No, I appreciate that it's only shooting aliens, but it's still violence and glamorization of the military… oh, says the woman that took over my kingdom with an army! …I am over it, that doesn't mean I can't bring it up. I don't have amnesia… no, that was not a reference to the time I gave everyone in Storybrooke amnesia, honestly, you did that too… Well, if you want to get technical, Zelena did a lot of things… Mary-Margaret, I was not even aware you slept with Dr. Frankenstein, but really, if you're going to sleep with someone… well, it could've been worse… well, you were roommates with your daughter for a long time, weren't you? …I'm not saying you're a lesbian, I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that you and Ariel went to that ball together and seemed very happy… well, how was I supposed to know that? …I did other things than look at you through my magic mirror, Mary-Margaret, I had a kingdom to run! And a life outside of you! …no, I have not seen you naked! …that's not a fair question. That is not—a fair—question… well, he's joined the Snow Queen's side, so you don't have to worry about him anymore… oh. Oh… David told you about that? …yes, it is a false impression… I was just being friendly… I'm sorry he took it as some kind of seduction, I was simply being… because he was sleeping with Kathryn, sleeping with him myself would just be overkill! …no, I befriended Kathryn later… I don't know, it was short notice… you know what I should've done? I should've put David with a man, that's what I should've done. But I didn't have Hook in Storybrooke, so… oh, figure it out… I am very supportive of gay rights… Neil Patrick Harris retweeted me once! Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose if Halo has a parental control option, then it'd be fine for Henry. But I don't want him going on the internet unsupervised. He can play with the other children in Storybrooke, but I don't want someone in China calling him names. Yes. Yes, that's fine. Alright. Okay, see you soon. Bye."

Regina hung up.

"I finished, like, two minutes ago," Emma said.

Regina pointed at the phone. "Your mother."

"Tell me about it."

Regina let Emma wear one of her nightgowns. She had a feeling she would be asking herself why she let Emma wear one of her nightgowns.

"Let me guess," Emma said, modeling it. "All this just to get me in lingerie."

"It's not lingerie. It's a very suitable nightgown."

"I feel like I should be running away from Dracula in this thing."

"You don't have to worry about him, I killed him a long time ago."

Emma smiled. Regina found herself—like she'd be unable to look away from a car wreck—comparing it to Emma's other smiles, seeing it was closer to the happier ones than the sad ones, and feeling a sense of relief.

"Well, Van Helsing, mind showing me to my room? Unless you want me to sleep in your bed."

Regina blinked. Her mind was no longer comparing Emma's smiles. She wasn't sure what it was doing.

"You know…" Emma shifted her weight between her heels. "Have that slumber party you were always talking about."

"Oh yes." Regina remembered mentioning that… somewhere between asking if Regina wanted to braid her hair, or call Robin Hood and hang up. "No, not tonight. I'm not really in the mood for ordering horror movies on pay-per-view."

"We could totally do that," Emma said, bending backwards a little in a bit of a pump before coming upright. What was she doing? Regina wondered. Why was it so… cute?

Was she flirting? Were they flirting?

Regina hurried to the nearest guest bedroom, getting the door for Emma. "Here is your room. It has a bed in it. You lie in the bed, you close your eyes, and you should be able to figure it out from there."

Emma went to the doorway but didn't go through. She leaned against the doorframe opposite from Regina. "Thank you."

"For what? I just put up with you while going through my normal evening routine."

"The TV dinners in the trash can say otherwise. You made spaghetti for me."

Regina suddenly drew herself up as high as she could while regretting the decision to put on slippers instead of heels, just because she was in her own house. "You must never tell a soul."

"That you made me spaghetti?"

"That I ate TV dinners. It was a dark time in my life. I'm not proud of myself."

Emma giggled. Practically tittered. "Thank you for making spaghetti, and hot chocolate, and calling Mary-Margaret, and… just being you, I guess."

"I was most emphatically not being me. Your heart's still in your chest, isn't it?"

"Said the woman who's trying to save her boyfriend's wife, just out of the goodness of her heart. Her red, glowy heart. Which are, I guess, the best kinds of hearts…"

"It's black," Regina assured her.

"Whip it out," Emma told her, taking a challenging step forward. "Twenty bucks says it ain't."

Regina saw every vein in Emma's eyes as they looked down to Regina's chest, to her breasts, a trickle of sweat running between them…

"You can take my word for it," Regina assured her. "But you are welcome. Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Goodnight, Regina," Emma needled, before leaning in to kiss Regina on the cheek.

Then she fled into her room and pulled the door shut.

"What the hell was that?" two people asked, on either side of the door.