It's Graham, the pretty, pretty man, who suggests it.

Regina is dressing after a Monday lunchtime rendezvous (not the most spectacular of their time together, it has to be said) and running her mouth off about Emma and the trouble she's causing in Regina's own relationship with Henry. Graham, who probably just wants some peace-and a chance to defend his silly crush-says 'well, Henry's only saying it because Emma doesn't have to make him brush his teeth and do his homework'. A light goes off above Regina's head and she pats him on the back absent-mindedly.

"You're right, Graham," she says. "You're absolutely right."

It takes thirty-five minutes to pack two bags (and Regina includes the two comics she bought on the way home, because there's no way Emma Swan is up to speed on what comes out when in the world of Marvel) and another five to load the car. Regina says nothing when she collects Henry from school, beyond asking him how his day went and if he did well on his spelling test. Henry shrugs and gives non-committal answers until he notices they're driving in the wrong direction to go home.

"What are you doing?" He asks, full of suspicion as Regina parks outside the Sheriff's station.

"You'll see," Regina replies, as she retrieves the bags and leads him inside.

Emma's leaning against Graham's desk in an overly familiar way, and that alone makes Regina want to march right back out and abandon her plan. But, no, this has to be done for Henry's own good. While the delusions she's having him treated for might technically not be delusions at all, it's far more dangerous to allow him to go on thinking that a twenty-eight year-old drifter with good hair and bad dress sense is God's gift to motherhood.

"Deputy," Regina calls out, dropping the bags on the floor at her feet. "Meet your son."

"We've met," Emma says uncertainly. "What is this?"

"This is your chance to show Henry who you really are. One week with you as his primary caregiver. You'll feed him, clothe him and keep him presentable. You'll make sure he does all the things that my 'evil' strict rules allow him to do so well."

"Are you crazy?" Emma splutters. "I mean, are you seriously handing him over like a lost puppy?"

"Do you want to prove your credentials as a mother or not?" Regina asks, impatient as ever when someone refuses to just do whatever the hell she wants. "Prove it to me, and I might be more agreeable to you having formal access to Henry in the future."

"Seriously?" Emma asks, looking at Henry with a dazed sort of smile. "What's in it for you?"

"How cynical," Regina says, rolling her eyes. "I get to fulfil your role, Miss Swan. I get to spend time with Henry after school. We'll do fun things-whatever Henry wants."

"Really mom?" Henry pipes up. "That does sound kind of cool, Emma."

Emma sighs at his obvious approval. There's a reason Regina decided to have Henry present for this conversation.

"Okay, kid," Emma agrees. "But you heard your mom-this isn't a vacation."

"That's right," Regina reminds them both, ignoring the way Graham is shaking his head. "And if there's any noticeable decline in Henry's appearance, health or schoolwork, well... I suppose we'll all know where we stand then."

She turns to leave, unwilling to witness Henry's joy at being left with Emma. There's only so much heartbreak Regina can stand in a day, especially after breaking her own to spare Henry future hurt.

"Hey!" Emma calls out after her. Regina turns around, hands raised in question. "Thanks," Emma adds, looking quite choked up with emotion. Regina waves it off and keeps on walking.

The first night is hell. Regina curses herself as she tears through the house. She cleans already sparkling surfaces and rearranges anything that isn't nailed down until two o'clock rolls around and she's ready to storm Mary Margaret's house in her pajamas and reclaim her son.

Stupid, stupid idea. Why had she ever listened to someone as thoroughly... not smart as Graham? Honestly, it's like taking advice from her hairbrush (and the conversation is roughly as stimulating, too).

Regina relents, takes a sleeping pill and crashes out until seven. Without Henry to rouse and chase after, her morning routine is dull and surprisingly efficient. She hadn't realized how little time she actually spends on herself. She lingers as long as she can over the morning paper, treating herself to a second mug of coffee before heading straight to the office without having to complete the school run en route. It's quick, it's quiet and it's completely depressing.

The afternoon shows promise though, and she's waiting impatiently by the school gates way before the three o'clock bell. And Regina's not sure if it's just wishful thinking, but Henry looks a lot more pleased to see her than usual.

"Henry," she greets him with a big, unabashed hug and he actually returns it. She can smell the familiar childish scent of his shampoo and it makes her miss him even more, in that moment.

"Mom," he says, wriggling away after a minute. "Can we get some food?"

"Didn't you have a nice lunch?" Regina asks, pretending not to be interested.

"Well, Emma packed my lunch but..." Henry trails off; his loyalty at least, is commendable. "I'm just really hungry today."

"Okay," Regina says as they walk back to her car. "Granny's it is."

Regina thinks she's ready to hand Henry over again when five o'clock rolls around, but she isn't prepared for the sight of Emma walking into the diner with Graham, laughing at something he's said (Regina can't imagine what, because he's hardly a comedian, but the predatory growl of jealousy flares in her chest anyway).

It's like some awkward scene from that Julia Roberts movie Regina half-watched over a glass of wine the other week. Emma and Graham look like a young, happy couple and when Henry gets up to greet Emma the family tableau is like a shard of ice in Regina's heart. She's ready to call the whole thing off, when Graham ruffles Henry's hair and slips into the seat Henry's just vacated.

"Can I join you for a coffee, Madam Mayor?" He asks, all floppy hair and charm. And in that moment, Regina knows how she's going to dull the pain of missing her son tonight. Distraction, that's the key.

"Of course, Sheriff," she replies, sweeter than sugar. "Henry, be good for Miss Swan. Don't forget your homework."

"He won't," Emma snaps, and Regina gets a little thrill from how defensive the tone is. Seems Emma's already seeing through this whole 'responsibility' thing, which means Regina's plan is going to be a success. "Come on, kid," Emma urges, as Henry reaches for his schoolbag.

"Bye mom!" He squeals as he runs out of the diner, leaving Emma to chase him. Regina smirks as she thinks of the Coke, cookies and ice-cream Henry's already had since they arrived after school. Emma Swan is about to become familiar with the business end of a sugar high.

The call comes at nine-thirty, about ten minutes after Regina kicks Graham out into the night.

"Regina?" Emma hisses the name, sounding frantic. "Is there anything wrong with Henry I need to know about?"

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Regina asks, putting some fake panic in her voice. "He should be asleep by now, surely?"

"Uh, we had a slight delay. But he's in bed now," Emma hedges, and they can both hear the lie in the quiet hum of the telephone connection. "Everything's fine. Forget I called."

Emma hangs up and Regina punches the air in glee. This might not even take the whole week.

Regina changes at the office when her last meeting finishes at two-thirty. One of the benefits of nothing happening in this town is that she can come and go more or less as she pleases; a Queen in all but name.

Today's little indulgence keeps putting a smile on her face, and it's enough to make Cecilia stop in her tracks when Regina walks out of the office. Or, well, maybe it's the jeans and the tight Red Sox t-shirt, something that Regina only took out of its packaging this morning.

"Uh, you're leaving, Madam Mayor?" Cecilia manages to ask.

"Yes, dear," Regina replies. "Be sure to leave messages on my desk for the morning."

Henry almost runs right past her at the school gates. "Mom?" He asks, uncertain.

"How would you feel about some time at the batting cages, Henry?" Regina asks, showing him the bat and glove she had hidden behind her back.

"Seriously?" Henry squeaks, and his face is so like Emma's when she says the same word that Regina loses her thrill for a moment. "That is so cool."

He runs to the car, practically dragging Regina along behind him.

"Can you play?" Henry asks once the car is in motion. "I mean, I've never seen you play any kind of sport."

"Oh, I have a pretty decent throwing arm," Regina says lightly, but she can feel the disappointment creeping in. "But if you want, I could ask Graham to take you instead?"

"...no," Henry decides after a long moment. "I want to see you throw."

Emma obviously got the message Regina left her in the morning, because she doesn't arrive at the town's dusty little baseball diamond until six. The light is waning a little, but because Regina found the machines in the cages a little forceful for Henry, she's been throwing pitches for him herself. They have the field to themselves, because what Regina wants, she inevitably gets.

She considers stopping just because Emma's arrived (and because damn, her bicep is not going to forgive her any time soon) but Henry is smiling so broadly and wiggling excitedly over home plate, that Regina just has to keep going.

"Okay," she warns. "Now, I've read about something called a split-fingered fastball, Henry. Think you're ready for that?"

"Like your curve ball that nearly hit you in the head?" Henry sasses, jumping up and down a little.

"That was a warm-up!" Regina calls back. "Okay, now I'm not showing any mercy."

"Bring it on!" Henry calls, and he's still now, bat ready and resting on his shoulder. Regina feels herself welling up at the sight of him; he looks so impossibly grown-up in that moment. She shakes it off and scratches her feet around in the dirt, for appearances' sake.

The pitch, in the end, is a decent one. Probably not a fastball, but Henry's bat connects with that pleasing 'crack' and Regina feels the same satisfaction as she used to after unleashing a fireball from her fingertips. He runs around the bases like his life depends on it, even though the ball has gone behind home base for what would be classed a foul ball. It also means one Emma Swan, in her brown leather jacket and practical (for once) ponytail is in prime position to catch it.

"You're out!" She yells at Henry, who ignores her in favor of sliding into home base with childish glee. A slide that probably means those pants won't be fit to wear to school ever again, but Regina's pleased none the less.

"No I'm not," Henry yells back as he dusts himself off. Regina jogs over to make sure he's unhurt by all the throwing himself around. "You're not playing, so you can't make me out."

Emma walks over, tossing the baseball in the air with practiced ease. "Maybe your Mom put me on her team, huh?"

"Nope," Regina says with a shrug. "Henry's not out." She's so pleased that Henry didn't go along with whatever Emma said that Regina will ignore any number of rules to keep him happy, and that's the best part of not being a full-time mom for a few days, she realizes. She's not the enemy anymore.

"Yeah!" Henry shouts, grabbing the ball from Emma. "Can we play some more, Mom?"

"It's dinnertime, Henry. I'm sure Emma is going to cook you a lovely meal," Regina says, smirking at the Deputy.

"Are you?" Henry questions, and he doesn't look thrilled at the prospect.

"Sure," Emma says, with an uneasy smile. "Mary Margaret is going to help me tonight."

"Ah, giving up on being a single mother so soon?" Regina pounces. "Some of us don't have that option."

"Well, some of us know how to ask for help," Emma fires back. "Instead of giving their kid up for a week."

"Better that than his whole life," Regina sneers, her blood already boiling. How dare Emma Swan accuse her of taking the easy way out?

"Hey!" Henry steps between them, pushing them apart with his little arms. Regina hadn't even noticed how close Emma got during their argument. "Let's just go, okay?"

"Come on, kid," Emma sighs. "Let's go make some mac and cheese."

Regina turns away, still uncomfortable with the sight, and gathers up the discarded baseball things. She's facing away from them when Henry comes running up to hug her. "Thanks Mom," he says, before running back to Emma.

She doesn't see Henry at all on Thursday, because there's another incident with Gold that takes up the whole afternoon and most of the evening. There's no mistaking how smug Emma sounds when Regina calls to say that she won't be picking Henry up.

Friday is trickier-Henry pointed out that he doesn't usually see Emma after school on Fridays, but in the evening instead. Regina counts down the extra hours and minutes, and when she gets home she's surprised to see Emma and Henry waiting on the porch. She's even more surprised to see that Henry's repacked bags are with him, and he's kicking at the floor instead of looking at Emma.

"We've had an incident," Emma begins to explain. Regina smiles and walks towards the front door.

"Well, then you'd better both come in," she says simply.

Henry bolts straight for his bedroom, abandoning his bags in the hall. Emma grits her teeth and follows Regina through to the kitchen.

"Why is he back?" Regina asks carefully. "The deal was until Monday, Miss Swan."

"Henry wanted to come back," Emma replies, very carefully avoiding Regina's glare. "He asked me to bring him here straight from school."

"What did you do to him?" Regina feels the protective instinct rearing up like a cobra. "Tell me."

Emma backs away from Regina's threatening stance, but Regina follows right after her until she's backed against the huge silver fridge.

"He missed his... stuff," Emma explains. "He missed his own bed and all the things he has here. He got pissed at me for laying down the law so much all week."

"Henry needs discipline in his life," Regina reminds her.

"Yeah," Emma agrees. "But I think he realizes now he can get all that in a much nicer situation that sharing my crummy apartment. Maybe if I had Nintendo..."

"It takes more than material things, Miss Swan," Regina argues.

"You don't have to tell me," Emma snaps, her face hardening in an instant. "And if you ask me, the kid's a little spoiled."

Regina can't help it, she slaps her. The crack is almost as satisfying as Henry making contact with the baseball.

"Jesus!" Emma cries out. "You already won, do you have to start beating the crap out of me again? No wonder you throw a decent pitch, with that arm."

"Aren't you going to hit me back?" Regina asks, already on the balls of her feet and ready to duck. It's ridiculous, to be gearing up for a physical fight while Henry waits upstairs.

"And assault a fellow member of the Red Sox Nation?" Emma quips, pressing her palm to her reddening cheek. "I don't want to fight you, Regina. Like I said: you won. You're a better mom than me, no matter how much of a bitch you are."

"I hate that word," Regina confesses suddenly. "Do you know how many times I've heard it? I wonder how often Henry has heard it said about me..." she pauses, sickened by her next thought. "I wonder how long I have until he's the one saying it."

"He didn't hear it from me," Emma promises. "We might have our problems, but you've looked after him all this time."

"I am his mother," Regina spits. "Not his nanny. Not some wealthy benefactor. This isn't Dickens. I have loved that boy as much as anyone ever could-"

"I know!" Emma cuts her off. "God, I know that now, okay? It just... doesn't make it any easier to see."

"Then stop trying to take him from me!" Regina cries in despair. She's mortified when the tears follow. "Just... stop."

"Oh, shit," Emma says quietly, horrified at the sight of Regina crying. Regina expects the blonde to bolt, or at least to move towards the door, but instead she steps in close and wraps her arms around Regina in a stiff hug. "I didn't mean to," Emma murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"You had no right," Regina chokes out the words. "No right at all."

"I know," Emma replies, and somehow her face is pressed against Regina's. "I can leave, today. I should never have stayed."

"No," Regina finds herself saying. "He knows you now. He loves you, despite this week. You have to stay or it will break his heart. And," Regina adds, gathering herself and speaking in the low voice she so rarely uses these days. "I will never allow you to hurt him."

"I won't," Emma replies, and she sounds sincere. "I won't," she repeats, but this time she punctuates it with a brief, fluttering kiss against Regina's damp cheek. "Please don't cry. I hate crying," she adds.

And she kisses Regina's cheek again.

"What are you doing?" Regina gasps. And then she mirrors the gesture, pressing her lips to the smooth skin of Emma's cheek.

"What are you doing?" Emma hisses. And somewhere in the questions and accusations, they find each other's lips instead.

"Mmm," Emma moans against Regina's mouth as their tongues first meet.

"Mmm," Regina finds herself agreeing as her hands flex and grab at Emma's blonde hair while she presses her against the fridge.

"What about Henry?" Emma whispers when Regina finally relinquishes her lips. "He's just upstairs."

"Okay," Regina says, flustered and running her hands through her own hair now. This is insane. This is all the way out there. "You're right. We can't-"

"No, no, no!" Emma interrupts. "I'm not saying we can't. We can. We have to," she adds, with a wicked smile. "But I have no intention of traumatizing a ten year-old."

"Right," Regina agrees, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach at Emma's insistence. "So we go upstairs, quietly. You walk on to the bedroom, and I'll distract Henry by making sure he's okay. I'll tell him to stay in his room?"

"You're good at this," Emma replies, slipping her hands back around Regina's waist and pulling her in for a kiss. "You're good at that, too. Who knew?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Regina replies, blushing. "Although this," she waves a hand, vaguely. "Is very new to me."

"Don't worry," Emma tells her. "You've already got the softball bit down."

"Hey!" Regina swats at Emma's arm. "It was baseball. And don't revert to cliché."

"Yes, ma'am," Emma says, with another kiss.

"And don't call me ma'am, either," Regina warns. "Unless you want me to go back to hating you?"

"Definitely don't want that," Emma agrees, with a playful squeeze of Regina's ass. "Now, Madam Mayor, I suggest you lead the way."