hunnyfresh - Letters from War

Ruby shook her head to clear it. "What are you talking about? That's-"

The blonde shook her head, already turning to exit the diner. "I know someone who can help me out. Thanks, Ruby."

Ruby continued to stare on after Emma, thoroughly baffled by the turn of events. Granny sidled up next to her drying a mug with a dish rag. "She doesn't know that was Regina?"

The waitress shook her head, an intrigued smirk playing on her lips. "Nope. But she's going to."

When Regina had mentioned she lived in a small town, Emma didn't realize how true that statement was. Used to growing up from city to city, Emma found the fact that she was able to walk all the way to Mifflin Street from the diner in under twenty minutes to be quite the feat. It would have been less than a five minute drive if her car hadn't been booted, which still pissed Emma off the more she thought about it, but it gave her the time to take in the town on her walk to Regina's.

It was cool for the early April weather. It must have rained the day before since the air was damp yet muggy. Brighton Street seemed to be the beginning of Storybrooke's suburbs which ranged from refurbished firehouses turned lofts to dainty little bungalows. Nearly every house on that street was different. The apartment loft's front yard housed a large tree where a petite brunette was standing on a stepping ladder and placing a bird feeder on the aged tree's limbs. The woman in the yard gave Emma a wave, surprising the blonde at such friendly hospitality before waving back.

Other than her car incident, she was liking Storybrooke. It was a town with old roots and old families, white picket fences and tire swings, where everyone knew everyone's business but the community always came together when it counted. It was a town Emma wanted to live in as a kid, made fun of as a teenager, and now that she was walking through it as a young adult, Emma could see its value once again.

By the time she turned onto Mifflin, the white mansion on the corner immediately caught her attention. She didn't know how, but she had an inkling that it was Regina's house. She was the mayor after all. Of course she would be given the best house in town. A lone car drove down the street, and Emma almost stopped it, briefly believing it was Regina inside the vehicle, but the wisps of pale blonde hair made Emma realize her mistake and her anxiety. The nerves of finally meeting the woman resurfaced, battling with her frustration about her car. Regina could help her take care of that. Hopefully.

The long expanse of walkway leading from the sidewalk to Regina's front porch seemed like the longest stretch of concrete Emma had ever seen. And she had walked twenty miles in the blazing heat not weeks ago. Adjusting her sack around her shoulders, Emma took a steadying breath. Treat it like a mission , she told herself. Operation Pen Pal.

She took a step forward, soft thuds soundings from her combat boots as she walked up the precisely poured pavement. Faster than anticipated, Emma arrived at the door, staring up at the brass 108 screwed beside Regina's door panel.

She knocked three times.

The twenty-seven second wait had Emma holding her breath before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, heard the lock click, and watched as the door parted open.

Emma's mouth slacked open when she saw the brunette she had run into at the diner, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in confusion as she took in Emma on her porch. Emma's mind could only process one thing. Oh shit.

"Oh," Regina drawled. "You again."

Emma could only open and close her mouth as she stared at Regina dumbfounded.

"I suppose you have learned to use your eyes to walk, though I can't imagine why you chose to make your way to my property." Regina crossed her arms over her chest, making herself large in front of the open space of her door. When Emma didn't respond, Regina cocked her head to the side and stared expectantly. "Can I help you?"

The million thoughts running through her head and the numerous times she had pictured meeting her correspondent in no way prepared her for the real deal. But as was life, Emma adapted and blurted out the first thing that came to her mouth. "You booted my car."

Recognition flooded Regina's face. "That monstrosity in front of the clock tower? You were parked in front of a town building. It's a no parking zone. You can take up your complaint with the sheriff."

With a decisive nod, Regina turned to make her way back into her home, but Emma moved quickly, catching the brunette's arm and halting her progress. "Regina," Emma called.

Regina turned with a glare. "It's Mayor Mills to you, and you'll do well to remember it."

Emma couldn't stop the smirk from forming on her lips as she watched the glare harden. She learned to read people - their behaviour and their situations. It saved her life more than once, and that had nothing to do with her military training. What she saw of the woman before her was just armour. The Mayor's shield and defence mechanism. The barrier that kept everyone at bay, everyone except for Henry, and hopefully, Emma. The Regina she wrote to always said Emma had a different impression of her than what most folks thought, and Emma was starting to see where Regina was coming from. But Emma knew Regina, and Mayor Mills, another facet to the woman she had learned to call friend, was just another layer to the extremely complex woman.

Regina narrowed her gaze. "Who are you?"

Emma rolled a shoulder, suppressing the butterflies in her stomach resulting from admitting her identity and practically getting yelled at by Regina. "Emma," she finally answered. "Emma Swan."

The armour fell as Regina's breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her chest and took a step back, her glare gone and her eyes widening in disbelief. "Emma?" She whispered.

Emma smiled then and offered a bashful shrug. "Hi."

"You're here?" Regina asked. The tone she had taken to scold Emma was immediately replaced with something much softer. Emma was willing to bet it was one Regina rarely used with anyone else. "You're here in Storybrooke."

"Yeah, I sent a letter," Emma explained hastily, still amazed that this was technically not her first meeting of Regina. "I guess I beat it. I mean, I didn't say I was gonna visit, but I said I was going state-side. You'll probably get it in a week or something. I was in Boston with August, you remember August right?"

"Of course, how is he?"

"Still hasn't kicked my ass yet."

A smile tugged at Regina's lips which caused the grin to form on Emma's. Regina took a step closer, her hand outstretched. "Private Swan, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Regina Mills."

Emma chuckled and took Regina's hand, aware of how soft it felt in between her own calloused palm. "Emma. Well it's technically Corporal now, but I like Emma."

They continued to shake one another's hand, their palms bobbing up and down in the space between them as they continued to soak up one another with their eyes.

Emma had been too floored by Regina's abrupt insult and dismissal at the diner to truly appreciate the woman other than the fact that she was a bitch. That point wasn't lost on Emma having personally been on the receiving end, and perhaps Emma was a bit naive to believe the woman was a saint, hell Regina had warned her more than once, but as Emma shamelessly continued to stared, all the stories and letters that had been a security to Emma for the past three years came crashing over her as the writer stood before her. This was the woman who reads Ulysses for fun. She was the woman who never missed a Christmas or a birthday ever since Emma began writing to her. There was the scar on her lip that Regina had gotten from a particularly wild horse. Her eyes, previously cold and guarding, now shone with a brightness that Emma would bet most definitely lit up at each mention of her son. Henry. Where was the kid?