When Emma witnesses Regina in a tense confrontation at Granny’s, she can’t just walk away. She goes to check if Regina’s okay—but what starts as a simple visit quickly turns into something neither of them expected. Words are said. Walls begin to crack. And in the quiet spaces between them, truths they’ve been holding in, start to surface.
The bell above the diner door chimed as Emma stepped into Granny’s, the familiar warmth hitting her instantly—coffee, syrup, something fried sitting a little too long on the griddle. Normal. Safe. Storybrooke on a good day.
“Evening Granny,” she called, digging for crumpled bills. “Just a coffee to go.”
Granny waved her off, reaching for a mug. “Sit. You look like you need five minutes.”
Emma let out a quiet laugh, sliding onto a stool. Maybe she did.
Her eyes drifted lazily across the diner—half habit, half instinct. Years of being the Savior didn’t exactly go away. You learned to read a room without thinking about it.
Near a window, stiff beside a table. Heels, perfect posture, hand wrapped around a glass of wine she clearly wasn’t drinking. Talking to someone Emma didn’t recognize—though Emma barely spared them a second thought. Regina was the only one she was really seeing.
Emma glanced once, twice—nothing about it screamed problem. Regina looked composed, controlled. The other person—mid-forties maybe, sharp posture, sharper expression—was speaking with just enough animation to pass as normal conversation.
So Emma looked away. Took the coffee Granny slid in front of her. Wrapped her hands around it. Normal.
Except, her gaze flicked back. Something had shifted.
Regina hadn’t moved, but there was a tension in her shoulders now, something tight beneath the surface. The other person’s voice carried just a little more than before—too sharp, too pointed.
Emma didn’t turn fully this time. Just angled slightly on the stool, enough to listen without making it obvious.
“...just don’t understand how everyone’s supposed to pretend,” the woman was saying, her voice cutting through the low hum of the diner.
Regina’s reply was smooth. Effortless. “Pretend what, exactly?”
Emma’s grip tightened slightly around her glass.
Regina didn’t react—not visibly. If anything, she looked bored. “If you have something to say,” she replied coolly, “I suggest you say it clearly.”
The woman let out a humorless laugh. “Fine. You were the Evil Queen. You hurt people. You destroyed lives.”
A few heads turned now. The air shifted—subtle, but enough.
Emma straightened just a little more.
“And now we’re all just supposed to what?” the woman continued. “Smile? Forget? Act like you deserve to stand here with the rest of us like nothing happened?”
Regina’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her glass. Emma saw it. No one else would have. But Emma did.
“I’m not asking for anything,” Regina said, voice steady, almost too steady.
“No,” the woman shot back. “You’re just taking it. Like you always have.”
Emma turned fully now, ready to step in, but Regina spoke first.
“Be very careful,” she said quietly.
Not loud or dramatic, but there was steel in it. The kind that used to make entire kingdoms tremble. For a second, it looked like the woman might back down.
“People like you shouldn’t get happy endings.”
The words landed heavy. Too heavy.
And for just a fraction of a second, Regina’s composure cracked. It was small. Almost nothing. A flicker in her eyes. A breath that hitched just slightly. But Emma saw it. Always.
And then, she was gone. A sharp curl of purple smoke, dissipating into nothing. Silence dropped over the diner.
Emma stared at the empty space for half a second, her chest tightening. Then she was on her feet.
“What the hell was that?” she snapped, turning on the woman.
The attention shifted instantly. The woman blinked, clearly not expecting that.
“No,” Emma cut in, shaking her head. “You don’t get to do that.”
“I was just telling the truth—”
“That wasn’t the truth,” Emma shot back. “That was you deciding she’s still the person she used to be, instead of the one she’s proven she is now.”
The woman bristled. “You don’t know what she’s done—”
Emma let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I do.”
Emma took a step closer, voice dropping, more controlled now—but no less firm.
“Do not speak to her that way again,” she added.
The diner stayed quiet. Watching.
Emma held her gaze for another second, then shook her head, turning away before the woman could say anything else. Her eyes flicked once more to the spot where Regina had been.
Emma exhaled, already moving toward the door.
“Granny,” she called over her shoulder, “put it on my tab.”
And then she was out the door, already knowing exactly where Regina had gone.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82654986