This is probably gonna bite me in the ass but I started writing this and I didn't know where I was going with it so if it sucks honey-roasted nuts, blame me.
Was this how it was supposed to feel? Is this the world's way of reminding her every day that things would be different if it weren't for her? Or could it be that this was karma, making its stay just a bit more permanent than all the other times? The occasional tug in her chest, the lump in her throat, and the stinging behind her eyes became part of her routine, but always unpredictable. She'd be having lunch, her turkey sandwich forgotten as she pressed her hand tightly against her chest, right above her heart. Her breath would shorten and the fear that she could possibly be as close as dead makes breathing that much harder, even though she knows she isn't going to die. The few times tears would reach her desk, she'd angrily swipe at them, mad at herself for so many things but mostly because she was crying. Again.
And that's how she found herself once more on a Saturday, the rain pounding its way through the town. With a swipe at her eyes, she raises herself from her chair, and makes her way to the wide window that lets in the most light her home office has seen in the past few months. She stares out, eyes squinting, taking note that the leaves on the trees were starting to turn green again. Oh, but what does it matter? The beginning of a new season and where was she? Alone, at home, the same as always. Her eyes begin to lose focus, only to notice her own reflection in the window staring back at her. She bites her lip, stares hard, before averting her eyes. How could she be so ashamed of seeing herself?
And there it was. That tug in her chest that made her bite her lip that much harder. She stumbles back, away from the window and turns to face the door to her office. Her hand is pressed against her chest again as she makes her way out, her heels beating out an unsteady tempo. She focuses on her breathing, trying to slow down the beating of her heart, but she almost panics like she did the first time. When she finally reaches the staircase, she lets out a sigh of relief, gulping as she realizes she still has to make it to her room.
With a hesitant first step, she begins to make her way up the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other just resting over her heart. She hears each step echo throughout her house, the emptiness of it responding to her each time. When she finally reaches the top, she feels like she ran a marathon, her body aching and tired and stiff. She doesn't know why and it drives her mad. She hasn't done anything. Not a single thing and here she was, taking advantage of just how alone she is, to rest.
Making her way down the hallway, her hand trails along the wall, barely touching the smooth surface. Her eyes go over each photo she comes across, blinking sooner and faster the closer she gets to her door, trying to keep her tears from falling on the newly polished floors she finished that morning. Pushing her way into her bedroom, she squeezes her eyes shut, jaw clenching. And that's when she feels those hot and salty tears roll down her cheeks, only causing her to be so much more frustrated with herself. Quickly stripping herself from her clothes and heels, she slides between the cool satin sheets of her bed, goose bumps rising on her skin. She lies on her stomach; face deeply pushed into her pillow as it soaks up her tears.
Her ears take in the sound of raindrops hitting every possible surface outside, like they were pounding, beating, reaching for her. She takes in the sound of her labored breathing from all the energy she's used from holding in her sobs, causing them to become mere whimpers that go unheard. She rolls onto her back, taking in deep gulps of air, the tears disappearing as quickly as they came. Gripping onto her blanket, she shuts her eyes, hoping that she'll fall asleep sooner than most nights.
She wants to sleep. It almost makes her want to laugh, the butterflies in her stomach awakening at the thought. She was going to sleep. Her heart began to beat faster, eyes popping open. She stares at her ceiling as best as she could while lying in the dark, and she slows her breathing once more. She has to sleep. She needs to sleep. No matter what it took, she would sleep tonight like all the other nights and would wake up much too soon for her liking. But she would take whatever she got, even if those eight hours or so felt like just one.
She positions herself so that she's lying on her side, hand beneath her pillow and the other grabbing hold of the cool pillow beside her. Closing her eyes once more, she forces her body to relax as well as she can, the chill in the house causing her to curl within herself. She shivers, wondering if she should put clothes on or not, only to push the thought aside.
When she finally feels the claws of darkness pulling her under, her body melts into the mattress, a small smile tugging at her lips. She feels it. She's so close. And when she finally falls asleep, her body pulls the pillow she was gripping closer to her body.
She finds herself in a grassy clearing, dressed in breeches, a simple cotton tunic, and riding boots. Nothing over the top or drew attention, because whatever it took to go by unnoticed, she would do. Pushing herself up from the floor, she finds herself fingering at her hair again, still in awe at its length. The scattering of birds causes her head to snap in the direction they flew from, her heart pounding in her chest. When a deer scampers by, she is somehow pushed into action, making her way to the closest tree. She begins to climb it, the bark of the tree rough and unforgiving on her ungloved hands. Pulling herself up onto a branch high enough to be unseen, she perches on it, hoping that the thick branch will support her long enough.
Her heart stops when she sees a mane of blonde hair. The excitement coursing through her veins makes her want to jump from the where she was, and she almost does but she pauses. Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way down, branch by branch. When her feet touches solid ground once more, she turns, her blood pumping and her eyes immediately focusing on the blonde.
"I see you made it alright." She cringes. Who says that?
"Yeah, I missed you too, Regina." A roll of the eyes, but there, a smile.
She bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut. What was wrong with her? This was what she was waiting for all day. This is what she wanted to do the moment she woke up this morning, but now that she's here, she just doesn't know how to go about things and it makes her heart ache in a way that's becoming familiar. She feels hands on her hips and a warm body close to her own, and it makes her want to cry all over again.
"Stop it."
Her eyes snap open, lips in a thin line. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Regina. Quit it. You're only making things harder for yourself than it needs to be."
"Yes, because this whole arrangement now isn't hard already. Of course, my apologies, princess." She wants to stop herself. These words, they're not her. Or at least, not anymore. But she can't stop. It's like an endless rush of water and there's nothing strong enough to slow it down or stop it. "But forgive me if I can't seem to find a way to cope just yet."
"Hey, you're not the only one-"
"Yes, of course! My apologies, once more." She pulls herself out of the blonde's grasp, the warmth from her hands lingering on her hips. "I'm not the only one but it sure as hell feels that way. It also feels like I'm the only person in Storybrooke for that matter, because everyone else has made themselves scarce, awaiting your return. And here I am, with you, and not in the way I want to be. You should be in bedwith me, not in my dreams, Emma."
Emma's hands reach forward, latching onto her tunic, and pulls. Their bodies brushing against each other, Emma's hands tightly grip onto her hips. "I know I should be but until we figure things out, this'll have to do. Believe me when I say going home is my biggest priority right now."
She leans forward, resting her forehead against Emma's, hands sliding up to rest on the blonde's shoulders. "I know."
"How're things going back home?"
She shrugs. "The same as yesterday, I suppose."
Emma hums in acknowledgement, eyes shutting.
"And you? How are things going here?" Her eyes search the blonde's face, brows slightly drawn together slightly. "Have you been sleeping for that matter?"
"Things are going okay here. I'm a little disappointed that half of the stories I grew up with don't exactly apply. I mean, no one's even sang yet and I'm waiting for a great opening number. Sleep, on the other hand..." Emma sighed once more, moving her head so she could bury her nose in the crook of Regina's neck. "Sleep isn't much of an option right now. At least not with Cora."
"You won't do anyone any good if you're falling asleep in the middle of a battle." She lifts a hand, resting it on top of golden locks. "You'd be as good as dead if you aren't well rested."
"Such a charmer."
"I believe that's more your job, dear."
Emma smiled, lips curling and gently brushing against the column of her throat. "Did you just try to be funny?"
A small chuckle escaped her lips, the sound quiet but the rumbling in her throat the biggest giveaway. "I'd like to think that I have my moments, yes."
"Nice try." Emma sighed softly, lifting her head. "How are we going to do this, Regina? If we can't figure out how to get back."
Her fingers clenched slightly, the feeling of Emma's leather jacket beneath her hands the only thing keeping her from letting her knees buckle. "Don't say that, please," she whsipers. "We'll find a way. If you were able to come here, we'll find a way to get you back, no matter what it takes."
Her eyes shoot open, immediately regretting it the moment the sunlight hits her eyes. She angles her head away, squeezing her eyes shut. She lets out a deep breath, sitting herself up against the headboard, a hand running through her hair. She glances over to the other side of the bed, empty and the space cold. Pushing herself out of bed, she finds herself in the bathroom, beginning her routine in a sluggish yet proficient manner. She takes the extra time to screw the cap back onto her toothpaste, and she almost wants to laugh. Not at the fact that she bothers to, but because she actually did it. She had that much time on her hands that she was doing such simple tasks that go unnoticed.
By the time she'd finished brushing her teeth, washing her face, and combing her hair, she's standing in front of her closet. If it were any other day, she'd stay in the ratty t-shirt and sweats she had slept in, but today was special. She quickly dressed herself, giving no second thought of her choice of clothing. Slipping into her heels, she made her way down the stairs, the house no longer cold. The distinct sounds of spoons and forks clinking against plates drifts up the staircase, muffled voices following after.
She stops on the last stair, a hand gripping onto the railing. All she wants is to go back upstairs, lay in bed, and sleep. She wants to scold herself though, because how could she want to miss today? With a deep breath, she forces herself to walk toward the kitchen, the click of her heels puncturing the quiet air.
"Morning, Regina."
She dips her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Charming." Her eyes take in the mess on her kitchen counter, eggshells and flour littering the countertop. "I see you've made yourself at home."
"We'll clean it mom, don't worry."
The side of her mouth lifts as she waves her hand in dismissal. "It's alright, Henry. I'll take care of it." She strides over to the table where they sat, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Besides, I heard it was someone's birthday."
"Yeah, how old are you now? Twenty?" Charming playfully punches Henry's shoulder.
With a roll of his eyes and huff, Henry smiles. "I'm only turning fifteen."
Charming lets out a low whistle. "I remember when I was fifteen."
She sighs, running her hand through Henry's hair briefly. "Do me a favor, Henry? Don't do what he did when he was fifteen." She made her way to the messy counter, beginning to clean.
"So, what did you have in mind today, Henry?" Charming sat back in his chair, one hand resting on his stomach.
"Um, I'm not sure yet." Henry's eyes dart from his plate to Regina's back, then to Charming. "I haven't really thought about it, to be honest. Mom?"
"Hm?"
"Did you have anything you wanted to do today?"
Oh, that was such a loaded question. She didn't want to do anything. She wanted to go right back into bed, curl under her covers, and just lay there. She didn't want to leave her house and she didn't want to see the people in Storybrooke because all she'll see is the same look she's been getting for the past five years.
"No, Henry, I didn't have anything in mind. I thought you'd have thought of something. It's your birthday, after all."
He shrugs, scuffing his shoes slightly as he looks at his plate sheepishly. "I know, but I just thought you'd have something in mind that you wanted to do with me."
She pauses in her cleaning, her throat tightening and her heart clenching at his admission. She sucks in a breath through her teeth, letting it out slowly and quietly. "You know that I'll be happy doing whatever you'd like, Henry. As long as we get to do something together for your birthday, I'll go along."
"Anything? You mean it?"
She throws the last of the trash away, wiping down the counter. "Of course. You're the birthday boy. Anything you'd like."
Henry shot out of his chair, hugging her from behind tightly, his cheek resting against her upper back. "Thanks, mom."
The feeling of him pressed so tightly against her back with his arms around her almost made her forget about going to bed. She suppresses a smile, one of her hands coming to pat his. "No need to thank me, Henry."
"But I do." He squeezed her once more before letting her go, turning to face Charming. "Wanna go play video games for a little bit, old man?"
When she had finished cleaning the kitchen, Henry and Charming were already waiting for her by the door, gloves and winter coats on. Henry held hers out, a grin on his face. "Ready to go?"
She only nodded, slipping into the coat. She had stared at Henry for a while after that, taking in his dark auburn hair that he had chosen to grow out so he could style it. His eyes were the same as before, and his face still held its boyish features. The difference was that he was much taller than she remembered, the top of his head already at her shoulder. He was lanky, still awkward as all boys were who were going through puberty, and it made her heart clench at the realization that he was growing.
They had left the house around noon and they ended up going to Henry's favorite comic book store where he went through rows and rows of them, and Charming just as engrossed in them as he was. She couldn't help feeling useless when Henry went up to the cash register and paid for himself with his own money, stating that he wasn't a kid anymore and that just because it was his birthday didn't mean he couldn't pay for himself. She merely nodded in agreement, speechless at just how independent he'd become.
After that, they were at the ice-skating rink. Henry grinned, stopping her before she could reach into her purse. "I'll get it."
"Henry." She frowned, a hand on her hip. "Might I remind you that this is your birthday? You shouldn't have to spend your own money today."
"I know, but I want to."
"But Henry-"
"Mom, I'm paying and that's that. Got it?" He turned to the man behind the desk, a grin on his face. "A size seven for her, please."
Once the skates were placed onto the counter, he grabbed them in one hand while grabbing hold of her hand in his other. Henry pulled her along to a row of benches and sat, already pulling on his skates.
She stood there, watching the way his brows furrowed together and the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrated on lacing his skates. She glanced to hers that were on the floor where he had set them, and felt her throat tighten. She was shocked and moved and slightly confused. How had he known what size shoe she wore? She was positive that she'd never mentioned it before nor did he ever ask. It wasn't as if he went through her closet, looking at the abundant collection she had and if he had merely guessed, she had to admire his accuracy.
"Mom?" Her head snapped toward his voice, a frown on his face. "What's wrong? Did I get the wrong size? Or did they give us the wrong size?" He reached for her skates, placed one into his lap, and looked inside. "No, never mind, they're the right size. What's wrong then? Why do you have that look on your face?"
"What look? I don't have a look."
"Yeah you do."
"I'm not sure what you-"
"Henry, Regina, you two almost ready?" Charming is grinning, a few inches taller by the skates on his feet. "I've never been ice-skating before."
When they finally left the ice-skating rink, all three of their faces were tinged to a light shade of pink and it wasn't just from the cold. When Charming had said he'd never been ice-skating before, it was true. The moment he stepped onto the ice, he had grabbed onto her shoulder. She couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her lips and when Henry turned to look at them, he grinned. Charming merely shrugged, looking the least bit sheepish, and repeated that he'd never skated before. The three of them fell enough times thanks to Charming, and although she'd usually be frustrated that she'd be sorer and have bruises, it didn't really bother her as much as she thought it would.
It was around five when they found themselves at Granny's, Charming footing the bill when neither she nor Henry was paying attention. She was surprised that he'd done so, but realized just how ridiculous she was being. Henry was just as much his and she berated herself for her thinking. After all these years, she still couldn't seem to grasp the idea of Henry needing or loving anyone else but her. It was silly but she knew that this exact thing about her was what drove him away from her in the first place.
The three of them had walked to her house from Granny's, taking in the cool air and the snow that seemed to cover just about every inch of town. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pockets, Henry and Charming walking on either side of her.
Henry broke the silence, his warm breath causing a small puff of mist. "They're not coming back soon, are they?"
She clenched her jaw so tightly that a headache began to form but she couldn't stop herself, out of fear of saying the wrong thing. She glanced to Charming, whose smile that seemed to have been permanent all day, disappear.
"Don't you worry, Henry, we'll figure something out. Your mom and I have been at it for a while and we'll keep thinking of ways until we find the right one."
"I know but... it won't be soon."
"No... Not really. You'll just have to hope and have a lot of faith. And when they come back, it won't even feel like they were gone."
Henry merely nodded, then looped his arm with hers, pulling himself closer to her. She placed a short kiss to the top of his head then sighed. "I made you a promise and I have no intentions breaking it."
"I know."
"Good." She nods. "Remember that."
They reached her house and she fumbled with the keys before they finally got inside. The house was dark but warm. She had shrugged out of her coat and opened the closet door to put it away until Henry reached for her coat and took it from her. "I'll put it away. Is it okay if Charming and I play some video games? I know you're tired and you can go to sleep but we'll have the volume down so it won't bother you."
She nodded, and then made her way to the staircase. "Don't make a mess of my kitchen when you two finally decide to eat something later."
"No promises!" Henry cleared his throat. "But goodnight, mom."
"Goodnight Henry. Charming."
"Night, Regina."
And as she made her way upstairs, she couldn't help but feel the tension leave her shoulders. By the time she was in bed, lying there with the covers tightly wrapped around her, she felt her blood pumping through her veins. The day had been a long one and she wasn't sure how she survived. Her body ached but not as much as her face. Although it was just the three of them, she couldn't help the smile that had taken over her face for the entire day.
The distinct sounds of the two in the living room setting up the game was all she heard, her breathing evened out, eyes shut. It was easier for her to fall asleep this way, knowing she wasn't alone. When she finally did fall asleep though, she couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.
She was in that same damn clearing again. It had become the usual meeting place and it almost drove her mad that she's been here so often that she knows just about every inch of it. She sits below a tree, her back leaning against it. She pulls at the grass without thought, waiting. The sound of approaching footsteps causes her to look up and she smiles softly.
"How was his birthday?"
"Why yes, darling, I missed you too."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Come on, seriously. How was it? How is he?" She stopped in front of her, her shadow blocking the sun from hitting Regina's eyes.
"Have a seat, dear."
With a huff, the blonde sat herself beside her, an arm going around Regina's shoulders and pulling her close. Emma grinned at the slight sigh she heard, resting her head on top of Regina's. "Okay, now tell me."
"He's fifteen, you know," she murmured, her face in the crook of Emma's neck. "He's almost sixteen. Before we know it, he'll be driving and going on dates and… voting."
Emma stifled a laugh, biting on her lower lip. "The horror."
"You're mocking me."
"I would never!"
"Be careful, Miss Swan, or I might just let him drive your car."
"Regina," she whined softly, her face nuzzling into dark hair. "That's not fair."
She hummed, shrugging her shoulders afterward.
"Really though… how was his birthday? I wish I got to spend it with him."
"He's growing quite quickly. He's up to my shoulders now…"
"Psh, he'll pass you in no time."
"You too, then."
"What? I'm way taller than you."
"You're not that tall, Miss Swan. Keep dreaming." She paused, lowering her voice. "I know I am."
Emma frowned. "Regina—"
Clearing her throat, she shifted slightly, an arm going around Emma. "His birthday, though, was quite enjoyable. We went to the comic book store and he bought a few things—"
"You had him buy his own stuff on his birthday?"
"No, he insisted on it. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…" She grinned, letting out another sigh. "After he bought them, we went ice-skating. I'm a bit surprised but Charming has absolutely no balance at all. Then we went to dinner afterwards at Granny's, and then went home. They were playing video games before I went to bed and I'm assuming they still are."
"Fuck, you're kidding me. Snow, do you fucking see that?"
"Emma, language!"
Growling, Emma pushed herself up off the floor, dusting the front of her shirt off. "We're gonna follow her. That portal, it could be it."
"And what if it isn't?"
"We have to hope it is. Besides, if Cora can open this portal, she'll find a way to open another if it's not the right one."
"Well… let's hope you're right then."
"So we're following her? You're on board? We don't have to, you know. I know you wanna get back to Charming as soon as possible."
"Emma, we've been trying for five years. A few days more isn't going to hurt us."
"Okay then. You have everything?"
Snow nodded. Emma inhaled deeply, peeking around the bush.
"Let's go then."
Five nights. It's been five nights since she's seen Emma and the worry has finally gotten to her. The knot in her stomach has become permanent and she becomes nauseous every single time she sees Henry and Charming. She knows something has happened and yet she's keeping it from them, hoping that Emma merely got caught up in finding a way back to them but she's having a hard time believing it herself.
How will she tell them that the only way she knew that they were okay is no longer valid? Emma hadn't said anything to her the last time she saw her and it makes her see red. If the blonde had done something rash and irresponsible to get her injured, she was going to lose her mind.
Part of her was hoping that she'd show up because telling Henry and Charming that she and Emma weren't communicating anymore was a conversation she didn't want to have.
A/N: I know I didn't really say what happened to Emma and Snow but that's because I wanted you to have a choice of what happens in the end.
I'm just kidding.
They're stealing the Declaration of Independence with Nicolas Cage.