I've been working on this story for a few months now and it'll probably have three to four chapters. This is my baby and I love it dearly. I hope you will, too. And to my sister Laura, I love you and thank you for everything.
*Update 03/30: not three to four chapters long, obviously. Split into three parts though, so...
PART ONE:
KNOWING
She's tired of that fucking place. Tired of staring at blank walls and floor and bed. Tired of tasteless food and frequent blood tests. She's honestly tired. But is not like she has the energy for an escape. So she lays there and plays with her interlocked fingers resting on her stomach.
She hears the door click and, well, she doesn't have another appointment until later that day. She turns her head slowly, gazes at the shadow at the entry and frowns. Is not her sister's or the outlaw's or any nurse's silhouette. The person steps in and her heart starts racing. Of course, she doesn't remember the person himself, but she remembers the grimace of pain, of lost, of watching her kill his son. And the fact he carries a gun only makes her try to sit up faster. And she manages to get on her feet and back away before he starts talking.
"They trust her, don't they? They trust that monster's judgment that you should live. That because of that demon you carry you should be allowed to keep your life when you never exitate on taking anyone else's." The man smirks and his eyes are hollow and she calls for a nurse and he points the gun at her, at her stomach, puts a finger to his lips and she gets quiet, rests her hands where the bullet would enter if fired, where a barely noticeable bump is. "Fools. Every single one of those we call leaders. But I'm no fool, my son was no fool. And it ends today. A life for a life, isn't that what folks say?" He lifts the gun, points it at her chest and isn't it funny? That after everything that happened, after everything she did to her sister, Regina still didn't kill her? That she's going to die by the hands of someone whose life she succeeded in ruining but can't even recall why? And she has a baby. Someone pure and good and that will be loved and raised right. But if she dies, her sweet child will die too. And she can't have that. But she can't plead. Can't draw more attention to her stomach. Maybe, maybe if she's lucky and if the doctors are good enough they will get to her in time and her sweet baby will be okay. So she stays quiet. And tears prickle her eyes. "What? Not goin' to say anything?"
She sees a blur of brown locks and the man is pulled down. And she thinks someone heard her, that it'll be okay. But the gun still fires. She still falls back. Blood still pools around her, warm and thick. And she still feels the buzzing of magic and sees the soft bright blue in the corner of her sight. And she still feels (barely, barely, she's so tired, her vision is so mistied) hands press against her body, someone mumbling to her that she'll be okay. She will. Yes, she will. But she doesn't care about herself. Her baby. Her baby (the corners of her vision are getting darker and her body is limp and she lifts a hand, touches the top of the ones that compress her wound and she feels the wetness, the warmth that transfers to her fingers). Her baby. Her-
•
It's taken them long enough to show up. So she doesn't flinch when she sees Regina's frame shouting at the nurse in the front desk.
"Miss Mills?" She calls from the other side of the room and the woman turns to her sharply, Robin right by her side. "If you'd follow me I'll take you to your sister."
"How the hell did this happen?"
"Is the child alright?"
She sighs. Can't answer both questions at the same time. Can't really contain her anger towards the woman, so she decides to talk to the man.
"She bled a lot and lost consciousness due to that. Fortunately the doctors were able to stop the blood lost before any damage could be done to either the mother or the child."
"How did this happen?" Regina insists and maybe she should just answer her, be done with it before it gets weird and the woman starts to wonder.
"We were changing shifts. I was late and the nurse before me was early to leave. There was a two minutes frame where the corridor was unwatched." She stops at the entrance of the room, clutches the clipboard to her chest. "Doctor Whale will come in a couple of minutes to give you any technical details you may ask. For the time being I want to extend the hospital's profound apology."
She's nervous. And she's talking like a politician. And Gods. She's tired and angry at things she does not understand. She needs to go on with her routine.
Regina nods absently, crosses her arms, looks at her boyfriend and they are having a silent conversation, she realizes.
"You may wait here or inside, whichever you find best. Excuse me."
She turns away. Is meant to walk away, feels the freedom of reading her magazine and helping Janet mop the asylum floor. But then
"Who did it? Who got the guy?" It's Regina's voice that asks. And it's somber, as if she already knows, as if she remembers.
"I did." She turns her head, grimaces briefly. Walks away. And she feels the warm gushing blood under her pressing hands all over again. There is nothing there, not anymore, but she stops at the bathroom even so.
•
Her head is pounding. Pounding and pounding and pounding and shit, shit, her left shoulder is on fire. Just breathing makes it worse. She opens her eyes anyhow, blinks a couple of times to chase the fog on her vision and the acuteness of the headache away. But she can say she's not on her cell even before her sight focuses on the simple lamp at the center of the ceiling. She tries breathing again. Her shoulder still burns. But she's had worse so she tries rolling them and shit, she should not have done that.
A palm presses against her upper arm and it's too close, so she hisses, flinches away. She turns her head and sees a nurse looking at her with shifting eyes.
"Lets try not to rip your stitches." The nurse says and she does her best to roll her eyes. "I need to change your dressings so I'm sitting you up, alright?" And the woman doesn't move to do it immediately, so she nods silently. She gets a better look at the room when the bed folds and her right hand moves to her stomach, caresses there out of habit and it's just out of habit because she doesn't even know if there's life inside her anymore. And she wonders if the woman knows, if she'd tell her if she asked, she wants to ask so badly. But she doesn't have much credit in this town, with its people. So she stays quiet and flicks her thumb over the scrub covered skin.
"It's fine. Your baby. It is just fine."
And she feels tears prickling again but she pushes them back. She's already been too weak. Can't afford to be thought as invalid. But she gazes at the nurse again with the corner of her eyes. The woman still focuses on her job.
"There you go, all done." She says and Zelena looks at the bandages and nods. The woman assembles her things, makes to leave, reminds her what button should be pushed if she needs anything.
"As if anyone would come." She mumbles and it's bitter and resentful because she could've lost her child, could've died.
"It's their job." And the nurse is about to leave, turns away and Zelena notices her hair, how it can barely be considered brown, how it falls in waves that don't quite touch her shoulder. She remembers brown locks pulling the man with the gun to the floor, she remembers soft blue magic and pressing hands and "People tell me I don't owe you anything. And maybe, maybe I don't."
Blue eyes meet hazel ones and both can't look away fast enough.
"But the baby is innocent and I did not do my job how I was suppose to and endangered its life. For that, I'm sorry."
She lifts her hand to the doorknob, waits a second, for what Zelena isn't sure. An answer maybe. But she must change her mind because she twists the metal in her hand and exits into the noise that the open door allowed to invade the room.
Zelena stares at the place the woman had been standing at and her hand grips the cloth that covers her belly. It's fine. Her child is fine.
•
It's been two days already and she still feels out of place sitting there. Sometimes she thinks she hears a gunshot. But she knows she doesn't. And today. Well today she hears the door by the staircase crack open and lifts her head to see what the common folk like to call the heroes (and she wonders if the eldest brunette doesn't feel odd, doesn't feel entitled to a name that doesn't fit her because she still remembers the heavy makeup and tight outfits and loud booming laughter and she wonders if Regina thinks of that when she is so desperately trying to bring Emma back) coming in her direction.
Snow's eyes cross hers and she's always been told of the sweetness of the princess.
She doesn't see much of it now. She sees lost, anger, confusion.
"Has the room been cleaned already?" The charming prince asks and she arches an eyebrow.
"This is a hospital. So yeah." And maybe she shouldn't address the man with such a pose. But well. She has a sharp tongue.
He doesn't seem impressed though. Just nods. Looks at his wife and at the former queen.
"I told you." Snow mumbles, crosses her arms and looks at her. She shifts her gaze back to her magazine.
"How exactly did you take her out of the cell? There was a spell preventing her from leaving." and Regina is talking to her, so she looks up again and shit shit shit how does she explain it now?
"I… I… I'm not sure." And that's a big fat lie. She knows exactly how it happened, feels her hands shaking with energy so she closes the magazine, brings it to the desk.
Regina looks and looks at her to the point it gets awkward and people around them start to get uneasy. And she too is uneasy but she has had so much time to practice, so many years have gone by that she doesn't feel the need to shift around anymore. So she only sits on her chair, waits to reach the point where her hands still and her breathing becomes even. And when she does, Regina sighs, looks at Robin and Snow and Charming (but not at Hook, because Hook isn't even there, she reminds herself, Hook is trying to find a way back to Emma, to his Emma and she feels pity building at the pit of her stomach). "I can do a tracking spell if you insist." The woman looks back at her and that's a blef, all the telltale signs are there. The forced smile, the poise, the squareness of her shoulders.
"You're the mayor, I guess." She shrugs and she's so sure of the mess she's presenting herself as to the most important group of people of the town. But she had been angry and then she had been guilty and then she had longed and now she is indifferent and that is her burden to carry, she doesn't need to share it, has not shared it since it became hers. So she rather be a mess and continue living her life and wait for the burden to lessen than to let them in on something they cannot change.
Regina tilts her head, is about to say something, but Robin touches her elbow and maybe he isn't up for the interrogation, wants to get things over and done with quickly because the thing that matters most is his child and it is fine, safe and sound with guards outside the door where it grows fingers and nails and face and organs and with only one nurse, the head nurse, (herself), allowed in. So maybe he doesn't particularly care for this whole figuring out how the shot was fired and how Zelena's and the child's lives were saved. Maybe he just wants to go home and enjoy some time with his son and his recovered true love and her son. Maybe he just wants to go on with his freaking life and enjoy the spaces they have in between where nothing truly bad happens (because really, when do they actually have time to breathe in Storybrooke?). And maybe there's someone in the room who she can identify with.
Regina bites her tongue, turns away from her and she thinks they'll leave, so she opens her magazine again and tries to find the page she had abandoned but then she hears it, the talk not even four feets away from her. And it's not really a conversation. It is something quickly developing to a discussion and it seems Zelena should be moved, or should be put right back at her cell, or should just stay at the room she's in at the moment.
"It's not like she can stay here anymore, it's not safe for the baby."
So much for identifying with the thief. Of course he had to prolong things.
"So where should we put her,uhm?" Snow is angry and the woman doesn't have patience to deal with these things because her daughter is the freaking dark one and she has barely had enough time to be her mother before her blond princess was taken from her again.
"I'm not sure-"
"Her farmhouse is still empty and-"
"Would you seriously trust her to a place like that-"
She's so tired. So so so tired and she's felt so much during these last few days that really, it is just impulse. It is just a reflex. Something she doesn't think about and the pity that formed in her stomach is growing, growing and growing and not for a leather-wearer pirate but for blue eyes and auburn hair and wickedness and silent staring and silent questions that she hears to the moment.
"She can stay in my apartment."
And four pair of eyes shift to her and she's so stupid and it was a stupid idea. Stupid stupid stupid and she just wants to disappear but David tilts his head, arches his eyebrows and, well, so much for continuing living her life.
•
After everything became green and dark and twisted, she never again had a nightmare. Never again dreamt of her mother's agonizing form with lumps being coughed out of her mouth and her father's groans late at night and the squeak of her parent's old bed. Never again did she dream of alcohol stinking breath that licked her skin in a harsh voice. She dreamt of freedom and soft laughter and a thumb stroking her cheek. She dreamt of Cora's smiling face and Cora's soft hand brushing her hair back from her face and "You're beautiful, don't hide your face darling." So she actually finds the comedy on being pregnant with her sister's soul mate's baby and having been shot at and dreaming about a child with bright red hair and baby blue eyes crying and crying for her and extending its little arms for her and her own arms stretched, reaching and not being able to touch and sobs ripping through her body and the baby's stomach with a hole in it and blood gushing from it, the baby's pale skin becoming bluer by the second. So she finds it comical that she wakes with a start to her sister's hovering form and fixes her gaze to brown ones and sees confusion and untrust and surprise.
"You're being released." Regina says and steps away. "There are some clothes by the chair, you have 5 minutes." So she walks out and Robin had been standing behind his girlfriend and he lingers where he stands, looks at Zelena while she presses the button that folds the bed up. He shakes his head as if something is so wrong. (And of course it is. Everything that surrounds them is fucked up and twisted and she used to see the joy of it, of making people suffer but her shoulder still aches a bit and she had a nightmare so she doesn't anymore).
"Back to my cell, then?" She mumbles to him and stands up from the bed with some difficulty. He shakes his head again, looks at the ground.
"Get changed, we'll talk later." He says and exits the room and closes the door.
Zelena picks the clothes up and snorts. Regina must have some sore of satisfaction on putting her out of her element because who the hell would imagine a wicked witch wearing a pink, loose dress and a soft furry sweater. She puts on the damn clothing anyway. Because she's done fighting and doesn't want to humor her sister by throwing a tantrum.
She opens the door and great, the whole squad is waiting for her. They sit up straighter when they see her and Regina drops Robin's hand, walks to her and wraps her hand around Zelena's upper arm. Starts to lid her down a path that she quickly stops recognizing. She frowns, stops walking all together and Regina is not happy , tightens her hold on her, lets a harsh breath go "Zelena, I swear to god, if you cause any trouble-"
"Where are you taking me?"
"Not your cell. Now walk."
"Where to, if not my cell?" And her voice takes on that pichy edge that drives her sister out of her mind, that probably crawls under her skin the way seeing Regina's happiness does to her.
"Some place better Zelena. Just walk." Robin tries and Zelena looks back at him, at the hate and fear and edginess that mingle in his eyes but his voice had been soft, and she never understood that man, Robin, all the greatness and code of honor bullshit that formed him. She spent nine weeks with him. With morning kisses and breakfast in bed and giggles with Roland and she never understood him. How he could love her sister so much and still try and create some sense of normalcy for the family he thought long lost. And she would never understand the edginess that had appeared when dread vanished after her plan came to its momentum and Regina showed up in New York.
Zelena looks back at her sister. "Why should I trust you? Why would you give me something better? Just to watch me enjoy it? I doubt it, sis." She controls the pitch in her voice and manages the snark. Because Robin can talk softly all he wants She still doesn't trust him. Because he is her sister's and her sister is someone she hates and hates her back. She isn't trustworthy. Not with her child.
"Because you don't have a choice. It was not my idea, trust me. If my plan was at use, you'd be right back at your cell, cleaning off your own dry stain from the floor."
And truthfully, they both can sense it. The moment where Regina steps over the line and proves to everyone that she's not all light yet, that things aren't just summed up and left behind. They can sense it as it is, Zelena tilts her head the slightest bit as it is, Regina frowns as it is. Neither need Snow's exasperated Regina, nor Robin's surprised milady to acknowledge the fact that the younger sister said too much.
So Regina frowns and Zelena shuts up and follows her into her car. Because honestly, what difference does it make?
•
Deep breaths. In and out. Repeat. Easy mind. She's doing nothing wrong. Nothing. And it'll be fine. The apartment won't be big and empty anymore and there will be dirty dishes and clothes to wash and it'll be okay.
(Of course she's scared, she won't admit it, never ever ever, because she has pride, goddamn it, but she's so freaking scared and she doesn't even know why because she's not afraid of Zelena, never was she afraid of witches, but the whole situation is shaking her down and making her remind herself to breathe)
Her sofa is large and comfortable and her feet are tucked under her body, the book she picked up to try and distract herself already discarded at the other end of the middle cushion. So she plays with her fingers. And waits looking at her black TV screen.
She hears the cars stopping outside. Her heart beats faster, so she untucks her feet and stands, puts her book on her coffee table and pats barefeet towards the mirror beside her front door. She checks her reflection, tucks her ponytail to make sure it is firm and high and nit. She pretends not to notice the faint turbidness of the protection spell placed in the mirror and hopes she doesn't notice. She knows she will.
Her buzzer goes off and she presses the button, lets them in. She has a couple of moments before they reach her door, so she rushes once more to the couch and puts her flats back on. She barely has them settled and comfortable when her doorbell rings. Deep breath. In and out. Repeat. She walks back to the door and opens it.
They wait for her outside and she wonders if she should smile, but Regina has this tension on her lips, these big brown confused eyes and the woman she has a hand loosely wrapped around the wrist of has a similar expression. So she doesn't smile. Motions for them to get inside instead. And the thief and princess and prince follow. Even Belle is there to be allowed in.
"Everything has been explained on the way." Charming says and puts a hand on the redhead's shoulder, presses her forward, in her own direction and she holds her breath, strains her gaze to stay at the woman's thoughtful one. Not to wander downwards, to where the life almost lost because of her lies, not to waver into the slippery and hot and lonely road that already led her to this current situation. And thankfully David had touched the undamaged shoulder. Because the woman gets rid of his hold by shrugging.
"We'll check on you again today and tomorrow morning."
And she nods, crosses her arms. Looks away because she doesn't know how to act. It was a stupid plan, a stupid suggestion. But she won't back down now. Can't do it.
"Alright then. We'll let you settle down." The blond man says and guides his wife from the apartment.
Honestly? That's it?
She expected more. Expected words of her guest's awfulness. Expected more untrusty looks. The only one glaring at her, however, is the guest herself.
"One more thing before we go. Your hands." Regina speaks and the scowl is still firmly on her face.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not risking her using you to take her wristband off."
And she extends her arms dutifully because they will only be two more enchanted things in an apartment filled with them.
"Behave." Regina remarks on Zelena's ear when she passes by.
"Of course, mother."
So the brunette leaves and then there's Robin and Belle and Belle walks to her, frames her face with her hands, looks her in the eyes "Are you sure?"
And she smiles at her, rests her own hands atop the ones that hold her in place and "I'll be fine."
So Belle, a patient that became a friend, nods, looks at Zelena, a warning, a if you do anything laying clearly on the surface, and then is gone too.
And then there's Robin and "Any problem with the baby…"
"Call the hospital and you, yeah."
The man looks at the pregnant woman, shifts and scratches his beard when she turns away slightly. He leaves. And then is just them and a big empty apartment.
And. Uhm. Yeah.
(fucking stupid idea)
"Have you eaten?" She tries and the woman turns to her, a slow smirk taking over her lips.
"What's your plan?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your plan. You must want my help in something to offer your home."
Sometimes she forgets it. How a second chance is not a clean cut, how the road is bumpy and hard and unconsciously hurtful.
"Sorry to disappoint you. But there is no plan. You weren't safe because of me. It was the least I could do."
"Aren't you afraid, then? I'm the wicked witch." She tries to say the last sentence like it is a delicious treat. She doesn't quite achieve it.
"Somehow I don't think I need to be." She chuckles a bit and watches as Zelena's smirk slowly fades and her eyes take on this look. "Again, have you eaten?"
The wicked witch shakes her head, pulls at the hem of her sweater.
"No, actually. I haven't."
So.
She goes to the kitchen and the woman stays where she is. "Why don't you sit here. We can chat while I cook us something."
And she does. But they stay silent.
•
"Could you not- Not treat me like some delicate thing? I'm not-" They cross gazes and she pauses, takes a deep breath. "Just, don't, ok? Treat me like anyone else. If not worse."
"Fine."
They settle on silence again and the only thing that prevents it from being unbearable is the soft clink of cookware. When it stops suddenly, Zelena looks up from her nails. Her host is looking at her, a frown on her face.
"I never told you my name, did I?"
"No." She realizes. "You didn't."
"Well, I'm Jessica. Call me Jess." She, Jessica, smiles, and turns back to her task. And who is this person? That saves her life, her baby's. Welcomes her into her home and her life and seems so genuinely good and doesn't look at her with fear or hate or anything bad and is just… different.
"How will this work? For you, I mean? Because for me, well… It won't change much. Just more space to be alone."
"That's the thing. You won't be." The kitchen starts to smell of something good and spicy and her stomach grumbles. She rubs it and notices the small bump there, she's out of her first trimester and they say everything changes faster after that. She looks forward to it. A plate is placed in front of her, a beautiful omelet dotted with what looks like oregano and tomatoes and cheese and steaming baby carrots on the side. The woman is quick. Zelena arches an eyebrow. (She's not sure if it is for the statement or the efficiency)."I mean for this to be a second chance. I can't well try and help you and just leave you be."
She smiles, amused. "I didn't ask for a second chance. Don't want one."
And it's time for Jessica to smile. "You… want to turn things around, don't you? For your kid?"
Her hand presses flat against her stomach.
"Yes."
"You want a second chance and don't even realize it."
She looks down, picks up her fork. Takes a bite from the omelet.
Second chance, uhm?
"And as for me… I don't usually take more than one shift at the hospital, so I'll be here often."
She nods. Keeps eating and the food is good, but the cup of water beside her plate is emptied quickly.
"So, what's your story?" She asks later when Jessica is rinsing the dishes and she's still sitting at the same place. "Regina clearly doesn't know you have magic, otherwise she would never have agreed to this."
Jessica doesn't stop cleaning the plates, but doesn't respond right away either.
"She doesn't."
"I could tell her, you know."
"You won't."
"How are you sure?"
"If you do, then you can kiss goodbye to this apartment and hello to your cell."
The water hitting the sink fills the air.
"How about we settle on a few rules?" The woman shuts off the faucet and reaches for a dishcloth. "First one is that the past stays in the past. It doesn't matter anymore. We don't talk about it unless there is no other way around it."
Somehow she feels neither will keep that rule.
"Second one is that you can break and let your rage out and do whatever you want with everything in this apartment. Except two things. The cup on the top bookshelf and the book to the left of it."
She turns slightly to look at the things even though the woman herself doesn't. The cup is colorful and seems handmade, something that a kid would create during an art class. The book beside it is thick and big and brown with golden carvings. It reminds her of the books she used to see in Oz, in the middle of the wizard's things, or in the Enchanted Forest, laid open on her sister's lap while she read to Snow White. It is beautiful and old and she feels the tickling urge to pick it up and tell the stories that it must guard to her child.
"Alright." She mumbles.
"Third one." Jessica sighs, puts the clean dishes away and turns to her, a forced smile on her face. "No lies. Never. We trust each other. I'm trusting you not to try anything stupid and you trust me not to do you or your baby any harm."
Zelena looks at her and feels bubbles in her stomach. She doesn't know the woman and she could so easily destroy her, use her naivety and get the hell away with her baby. But she's so tired and there is something in the woman's eyes that lull her, that remind her of being a child and her mother braiding her hair and humming to her. So she nods. Jessica's smile diminishes, but becomes truer.
A second chance.
•
The gut turning fear slowly fades as the days go by. They settle on this weird routine where they don't talk much, but eat together and watch TV together and there is one day that she is walking home and passes by the bookstore. She doesn't really think about what she's doing until Zelena has an arched eyebrow, a balled up plastic bag in one hand and a "What to Expect When You're Expecting" copy in the other. She offers to change it. The redhead grips the book tighter, plops down on the couch and opens the first page.
She manages to keep the nightmares under control for a while. But she wakes up screaming one night and waits for the movement outside. None comes, so she stands from her bed and goes for a drink of water. She is trying to breathe through her nose when she hears it, the retching coming from the bathroom.
She goes there, her glass almost empty, but not abandoned.
Zelena leans over the toilet bowl, both hands on its frame, holding her head out of the liquid that stinks the place. She should help. But the woman has tears rushing down her cheeks and they don't do that. The touching, the physical help. Not since the woman was out of the hospital and into her home.
So she goes with "You look a bit green."
Zelena startles, a hand urgently reaches her neck, her eyes wide and shit shit shit shit she always forgets it, always puts her foot in her mouth.
"Oh God, not like that." She goes forward, extends a hand because what else is there to do? Zelena sighs, ignores her hand and tries to stand. She's back to her knees, dry-heaving in the next second. She backs away from the toilet and falls on her behind a couple of minutes later. "I'm going to fetch you some water."
And barfing is so exhausting that she gives in, nods.
She comes back to the woman brushing her teeth. She hands her the cup (not the same one she had been carrying, she assures her) and sits on the floor outside the bathroom. For what, she isn't sure.
"Is it normal? To be sick in this stage of the pregnancy?" She turns her head when the hoarse voice hits her ears.
"It can happen."
There's this awkward moment where she looks ahead and Zelena stands beside her. But then the woman moves to the couch and she does, too.
"I heard the screaming."
She closes her eyes. "Sorry."
"I have them sometimes, too."
It is an odd thing to say, to admit things, but she had asked for trusting and was trying to redeem herself and help with the second chance thing, so she looks at the woman (and she does not look back) and chuckles bitterly.
"My brother was reaching for me."
"You have a brother?"
"Not anymore."
"Sorry."
"Yeah."
"My baby was dying."
"It isn't."
"I don't want to lose it."
"You won't."
"Regina will take it. Like she always does with things that are mine, like she will always do and-"
"Enough."
Zelena looks at her, frowns, stands up.
"You won't lose it if you let things go."
"Good night."
•
Her stomach curves more each passing day, and she only notices how different it really is when she is watching Downton Abbey and stays with an ice cream spoon too long on the way to her mouth while paying attention to the scene and the melting food drops right on the strip of flesh left exposed by the white cotton of her tank top and her flannel shorts. She drops the spoon back to the bowl and uses the tip of her finger to clean the mess. Of course she licks the sweetness off and smiles down at her belly. She rubs it, "How are you, munchkin? Uhm?"
She imagines every day how her baby will look like, if it is a boy, with deep dimples and pouty mouth, or a girl, with loud giggles and ginger hair. She so desperately wishes to hold it, whatever it is, to hold it and kiss its soft perfect skin, the skin she created. She wants to be happy. She wanted to destroy her sister. But she wants to be happy, forget everything, just hold her child and teach it about magic and a place far far away called Oz.
She wants a home, wants somewhere safe.
"Is this home, baby?" She mumbles. The apartment is alright, big enough, comfortable enough. And Jessica is okay too. Reserved, messy, laughing at one point and somber at the next. But she's not bad and she doesn't let David get too far up her arse during the visits.
She should get ready, has an appointment in a while and it'll be her first time out and she should look presentable.
Regina had brought clothes for her on her fourth day in this place and she had come alone, had handled the paper bag to Jessica and hadn't talked to Zelena. She'd said something to the nurse, something that got a sneaky response and made both chuckle and Regina had frowned, confused and Jessica had looked away and clutched the bag and there was just this air around them and Zelena felt something hot and twisty and it threw her right back to Rumple and
So Regina?
Has the job.
She'd cleared her throat. Regina had snapped her head towards her, had run her eyes through her, stopped momentarily in her stomach. She had left. Jessica had put the bag by her feet. Walked away.
Zelena continued to see green.
So she stands and goes to the bathroom. She likes the water hot, burning really, and the first time she took a shower Jessica had sighed and puffed and said it wasn't good for the baby. So she likes the burning water hitting her skin, making it pink and raw, but she takes her showers colder now.
She is alone, so she takes her time and stays under the spray, her face upward, her eyes closed. It reminds her of when the little one was conceived. When she was desperate and lonely and just missing something. When Robin was taking his shower where she knew he thought of her sister. When she had snuck in and kissed his shoulders and wrapped her hand around him and he had mumbled Marian (she wanted to gag, every time he called her that, but she never did because it was her plan and it meant it was working) and turned around, pushed her against the cold tile and it'd been hot and hard and she had closed her eyes, pretended that it wasn't him and she was herself and it was just someone wanting her.
She finishes putting on her shoes just as Jessica, Regina and Robin walk through the door.
"We're late." Her sister tells her and and looks away when she stands. The fabric of the green dress is soft and the bump is evident in it. She manages a smirk she thinks she pulls off alright.
They drive to the hospital and no one talks. What's the point, anyway? They climb out and Regina raises her hand to hold her arm but she pulls back, chooses to lace her fingers with Robin's instead and the man kisses her temple. Zelena walks ahead. She waits for them to catch up on the front desk and her indifferent façade is on and perfect but there is this little girl in a wheelchair staring at her with wide eyes and shaking hands and she wants to go back to the apartment so bad. The girl looks away only when the sliding doors of the entrance finally open and the shaking stops. A big smile takes over her face and "Jess!"
Jessica walks to her and crouches down. Gives the kid a hug and their eyes meet over the small shoulders. Jessica smiles, like everything will be okay. Zelena looks down.
Regina stops in front of her, an eyebrow arched and she rolls her eyes, but goes with them to the ultrason room. Jessica does not follow.
When everything is done and they are waiting for the blood results (because they are finding out the gender today, Robin had decided) Regina is looking at her oddly. With hurt and a frown and she swears she doesn't know why.
"Can't you stop? I get it Zelena." Her voice is low and mad and dangerous. She follows the brunette's gaze and, well, oops? She notices where her hand lies and how her thumb traces the swell they are all there to check on. It's become so usual to her, to touch it. She does it at night, before she sleeps, on the afternoon, when she reads, in the morning, when she has her breakfast.
She takes her hand away, drops it at her crossed leg.
"Sorry sis."
Her younger sister shakes her head, lets her eyes drop to the floor, releases a hot and watery breath. "Call me when they come back."
Robin calls out for her, but the woman walks away, a hand rubbing her forehead.
"God, I hate you." He crosses his arms when he sits back down.
(Good morning beautiful
We're having a baby?
I love you)
"Join the club."
Whale turns the corner ten minutes later. Robin stands, shakes the man's hand. Zelena stays where she is.
"Seems you'll have to find a pink bow." He says to him, smiling. Zelena's breath catches.
•
She's always loved her job. During the curse. After the curse. But sometimes, when something like this happens, she hates it. She wishes she didn't know how to save a life.
("Jessica, car crash, hitter and victim coming in, let's go.")
She opens the door to the apartment, it's early, but she's been alone for so long that she forgets to be quiet. She drops her purse on the coffee table and goes to the cabinet where amber liquids shine back to her. ("She's crashing! Get me a defibrillator!") She starts to take the bottles out, puts them on the floor beside her feet and when that is done, she takes them all to the sink.
("I'm calling it. Time of death: 9:34 PM.")
"Can't you ever be quiet? It's 7 AM." She looks back to see Zelena walking out of her room. She mumbles an apology, but she needs to get rid of the alcohol first. "Hey, are you alright?"
("What's this smell?"
"Booze. He's drunk.")
"Yeah, sure, just… just throwing this out. You don't mind, do you? Hell, of course you don't mind. You can't drink it."
She manages two bottles. And she's shaking. When did she start shaking so bad? It doesn't matter. She has four more bottles to go and Zelena catches her wrist and makes everything that much harder.
"Stop."
"I'm almost done."
("He's stable for now."
"Who's telling the parents?"
"His?"
"No, Whale. The little girl's.")
"Jess, what is it?"
"Nothing, I'm fine." She smiles, pulls her arm, tries to break free.
"No lying, remember?"
Zelena is looking at her, steady, and she's never done that before, never touched her or stood so close and she's so tired, and she's seen a child, another child, die and she just wants to cry and she thinks Zelena might care. And even if she doesn't, Jessica doesn't think she can breathe with all these words in.
So she stops. Swallows. Lets the bottle go.
"What happened?"
"There was this accident. A drunk driver hit a little girl."
Zelena stays quiet, but lets go, backs away a step and sits on the floor when she does.
"She was four. She died. He didn't."
Both of them are silent and the early morning sun shines on the wooden floor and gives everything an orange glow.
("Why was she out alone so late?"
"Her cat had run out, she was trying to find it.")
"Do you ever feel like giving up?"
"Give up on what?"
"Living."
Zelena chuckles, a hand on her stomach.
"Yeah."
"I never do, though."
"I did."
"What?"
"Well, I am. I'm trying to give up on living like I used to. My little girl deserves more."
"You're having a girl?" She turns her head, looks at the redhead and there's a small smile there when she nods. "Remember that thing I said? About forgetting the past?"
"Yes?"
"That's bullshit."
"I figured."
There's a pause. They chuckle and the air clears and they've been living together for a month already and she feels more comfortable around the woman than she should, than she thought she would. They are closed off. Never really talk that much. But there are times, like the one they are living at the moment, when one reaches out and the other accepts and they both feel this string being formed. It's odd, but for the first time in forever she doesn't fight it.
She rubs her eyes with her sweater-clad wrists, probably looks like a panda judging by the black wet marks that she sees on the white fabric when she pulls her hands away.
"Ugh, I'm a mess."
And she means it on so many levels that she doesn't even try to move because there was an accident and she had made a phone call and "Jess! Long time, no see girl!" and "How's Tom?" and "His wife just gave birth a few days ago, a little boy."
"We all are." Zelena whispers and takes her back to the present. She looks up to the bookshelf, to the cup and she takes deep breaths through her nose. She sighs, rests her head against the closet where they lean their backs. There's a movement beside her and then a hand in hers.
They don't talk about it.
•
Her cravings start halfway through her fifth month. She's laying on the couch, a hand resting on her bump and the remote clutched at the other, softly resting on the floor as her arm hangs from the side of the furniture. She's watching one of those singing shows' marathons and it's during a commercial that she sees it, round, crispy, golden onion rings. And her stomach just grumbles and her eyes simply go wide. She sits up and considers her options. She knows that there are onions in the kitchen and she could probably get a decent recipe from the internet but just the thought of doing it already has her shoulders sagging. She could work an oven just fine but she never got the hang of the whole frying thing.
She could also wake Jessica up. The woman had been sleeping since she'd gotten home from work hours before and she didn't have a shift the next morning. It was way easier. And they could share it. Talk crap about the awful singers. (She doesn't allow herself to dwell too long on it, but she likes the woman, finds herself longing for the days where she works nights and gets to spend the day at the apartment.)
With her decision made, she stands up and hurries to the closed door. She knocks lightly and hears the rustling of sheets on the other side and she thinks she succeeded and her roommate is up. So she opens the door and "Hey, what do you-" but she stops when she sees Jessica still asleep, her hands clutching the covers, her head turning side to side, her breathing fast and uneven. She frowns but she remembers. Nightmares. So she goes forward, leans over the woman and holds her shoulders, shakes them slightly and Jess wakes startled, eyes big and quickly tearing up. When her gaze focuses, she sits up in a rush, moves away from her touch.
"Sorry, you just- I thought-"
"It's fine. Just. It's alright." Jessica controls her breath, swallows. "Did you need something?"
"I saw these onion rings on the TV. I was thinking we could order some." Why the hell does she feel shy about it? Why the hell does she avert her gaze?
"Uhm, sure, I'll call Granny's."
"Thanks." She turns around, rushes a bit because she hears the show coming back, but first "Do you still get them a lot?"
Jessica looks at her with shifting eyes.
"Yes. Do you?"
She shakes her head before she even opens her mouth.
"No."
Jessica nods, looks out the window opposite to her bed.
"Let me make that call for you."
She goes back to the living room and squints when the awful version of a song she actually likes (but never remembers the name of) hits her ears.
Forty minutes and many bad singers later she's taking the last of her delicious treat to her mouth when a cushion hits the side of her head.
"Hey!" She looks sharply to her side, to the woman at the other end of the sofa with a smile on her face and glinting hazel gaze.
"Thank you." Jessica says and Zelena's stomach turns for a whole different reason.
She shakes her head, a smirk coming up unwillingly. She looks back at the TV and eats what her baby craves.
Title from the song Silhouettes by Of Monsters and Men
