A/N: Hey there! I'm aware that I'm the worst updater ever... I'm honestly sorry for that. The semester that just ended was absolute hell for me, though, so I barely had time to breathe. I'll try my best to work on updating my other story before my break is over, but meanwhile, here's something that wouldn't leave my mind and was just begging to be written.
You hold the dagger in your hand, fist clenching around it as if the strength of your grip could stop it from shaking. It weighs as if it was made of lead, with the weight of promises kept and fates intertwined and defeat and emptiness.
You never thought emptiness could be so heavy, but it absolutely is, you can fee it pulling you down with every breath you take. You also never thought defeat would be finally getting the man you were supposedly always fated to be with; you thought that would taste like the ultimate victory... but somehow, it's the exact opposite, and you know something is wrong with that picture, but there's far too much on your mind to focus on that.
You take a deep breath and try to gather the courage to speak. When you do, your voice shakes just as much as your hands.
"Dark one... I summon thee." You wait for a moment but nothing happens, and you wonder if you did something wrong, and if the formality is necessary at all. You try again. "Emma. I need to see you."
Before you even get to finish your sentence, there she is. It figures that Gold would have gone by the title, power-hungry as he was. And it figures that Emma would still be just... Emma. She never wanted any titles. Not when she was the Savior, and not now when she is the Dark One. You understand... more than you'd care to admit. You'd never wanted to be a Queen, much less the Evil Queen. Both of those were give to you, thrust upon you.
Not by Emma, though. She has said and proven, time and time again, that for her, you're just Regina. So you vow to yourself to always make sure to give her the same courtesy. To never forget who she is, beyond titles, beyond powers or magic or anything else. She is Emma, and that's how you'll keep calling her.
She stands at an awkward distance, close enough to be able to have a conversation, but further than even arm's length. It looks and feels so different from just a couple of days ago, from when you'd stand right in front of each other, heads coming close and voices still clearly heard even if you whispered – which you often did, whether to talk about Robin or the book or whatever other challenge you had in your hands in the last few months.
And she looks... like herself. No green scales or distorted features or weird exaggerated mannerisms. In a way, it also figures. You always believed those came with the Dark One, but if you think about it now, the power that came with it would definitely allow one to choose how they look, or at least stop unwanted changes. So you slowly come to the conclusion that Gold probably wanted, or at least welcomed, his new appearance... whereas Emma would of course fight against anything that tried to define or change who she is – like she always has before.
In a way, she seems almost unchanged, at least to untrained eyes. But you know her. You know her as well as she knows you, and you see the difference right away: every inch of her body and her face might look the very same as it did before... but not her eyes. There's something new, something that you first saw there in the days after Cruella; but right now it's been amplified. You can't really describe it, much less in few words, but you know it's there, you know it's different, and you know it's bad.
Emptiness – one much deeper than the one you feel, as if there was a literal void inside her -, badly contained anger, even a certain level of disdain... those are all words that cross your mind. And pain... not like searing pain, but a dull ache that makes her eyes gloss over and that you can almost feel yourself.
It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to run to her and pull her into your arms and touch her face and blow life into her again. But you know it's not that simple... so you hold your stance and you try your best to not let your face show any sign of any of the hundred things you're feeling.
She sighs – you can see it more than actually hear it – and it occurs to you that you have just been staring at her for probably minutes now. You give her a half smile as an apology, but her expression doesn't change the slightest bit.
"Regina... what do you want?" You'd have expected the question to come with a bite, with sarcasm, irritation or something like that. But instead, all you can hear is exhaustion and sadness, and you desperately want to do something about that, but you don't know what, you don't know how.
You take a step in her direction, and she immediately takes a step back. You can't help but flinch – you absolutely did not expect that simple action to hurt you so much, but it does; she could have stabbed you with that dagger, and it would probably still have hurt less.
You exhale slowly to keep the tears that are rapidly forming in your eyes from falling. You want to be closer to her, but you got the message that she doesn't want you close. You can't even honestly blame her for it; you don't try stepping forward again.
"Emma..." You look up at her and you plead with your voice and with your eyes; you don't need any other word but her name for it... She knows you well enough to recognize a plea for what it is. Her eyes soften the slightest bit, but apart from that, there is no change.
You again have to look away as one more blow hits you. You feel stupid for expecting her to still treat you the same way as before... to still care about you. You don't deserve her to, you don't deserve her friendship or her compassion, much less her forgiveness. Not when all this pain that she's holding in is your fault. Not when she doomed herself to this for you, when you never deserved her to do that to start with.
You can't ask anything of her, not even to be in your presence. You have no right to be holding this dagger, even though everyone seemed to agree it'd be best if you were the one to keep it.
You give up on looking at her, not even trying to face her anymore. You just want to make sure she's fine (or as fine as one can be with the Dark One inside), and to find a way to revert that and bring her back... so that's what you'll focus on.
"Emma... I know you don't want to be around me. I understand. I won't summon you anymore if I can avoid it; I'm sorry for doing that. Just... know that I'm trying to find a way to bring you back. I won't stop looking. If you know of anything that could help, just let me know."
This time, you actually hear her sigh, loud and clear, probably because there is some level of scoffing in it too. "Is it really that bad, for you to not even be able to look at me?"
It is... but you force yourself to look up again and face her anyway. She deserves nothing less. You're surprised to see her looking back at you with what's possibly the closest to kindness she can muster at the moment.
"I don't blame you, Regina."
You wonder how she knows that that's exactly where your mind has been... but then again, she knows you. She understands you like no one ever did before, and probably no one ever will after. That's where her mind would have been too if roles were reversed... so she knows. But you still don't understand why or how she doesn't.
"You should... You really should. It's my fault and I'm well aware of that."
She's struggling to not roll her eyes and you can see that struggle as clearly as if she went ahead and did it. Emma was never good at patience, but right now you could already notice that she has virtually none of it left.
"It was my choice, Regina. You never asked me to, much less forced me. Quite the opposite; if I remember correctly, you nearly begged me not to. But I chose to. I knew what I was doing and what would happen, and I still did it. And, for the record, I don't regret it. If I had to do it again, to make sure you're happy? I would. Now can we please get over this so you can stop wallowing in your guilt and can actually be in the same room as me without wanting to dig a hole and hide?"
The laughter comes out of your throat before you can stop it, dry and sarcastic and pained at the same time. "Wanting to dig a hole and hide" is actually a perfect description of how you feel, and you silently commend her inside your mind for picking up on it.
Her tone still stings, though; at the same time familiar and with a completely new edge. It worries you, but you leave it aside for the time being. You try to focus on her words... but that brings you a new problem. She did that to herself to make sure you're happy; she said so herself. So how do you tell her you're not? How do you tell her that it was all for nothing, because you can't be happy while she's the Dark One and won't even let you take a step closer to her?
And if her blaming you for what she became is not the problem like she says... then what is? Because she did still step away from you, and she is still standing a couple of feet away, and she hasn't made a move to get any closer.
She stares blankly at you, confused by your reaction, but you're not sure you can offer her any clarifications. Nothing makes much sense to you anyway, and if laughing out of pain and despair is not something she can understand, then you don't know how to explain it to her either. All you can do is divert the focus and try to get explanations for the things that are confusing you instead.
You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips as if to shake the last remains of laughter away so you can concentrate again. You speak slowly, careful to make sure your tone does not betray any of your emotions; for some reason, you feel the need to at least appear collected – or simply more collected than the mess you feel like.
"So you don't blame me... but I still can't get any closer to you than this? Why?"
She grimaces at the question... as if that was the last thing she'd like to be asked. You wonder if that's because she doesn't have an answer for it, if that's because that question will force her to admit she lied and she does actually blame you. She sighs again and you wonder if she'll bother to answer at all; she does, but it still barely makes sense to you.
"Because I don't trust myself."
"With what? You don't trust yourself to not be able to continue pretending you don't hate me and blame me if you get closer? Is that it?"
You know you probably sound like a petulant child, insisting on the same thing time and time again, and you know you're probably wasting the last droplets of patience she has left... but you can't help it. It weighs too much inside you and you just cannot understand how it can possibly not be an issue for her...
"Regina, I will say this for the last time. It was my choice. I do not blame you." She takes a deep breath, as if to calm herself down, before continuing. "I don't trust myself to not hurt you. And before you ask, that's not because of you. It's because of me. I don't trust myself to not hurt anyone right now." She adds the last part almost inaudibly through the distance. "So I don't wanna be close to anyone I care about."
To say that catches you by surprise is an understatement; it hits you like a punch to your guts... but also like an embrace. It hurts and it heals at the same time. You feel so, so very sorry for her, for whatever is going on inside her that makes her feel like she can't even be close to the people who matter to her. But at the same time... you feel loved.
Because the word she used might have been "care"... but you know better. You know the other word is just too hard for her to say – probably especially so under these circumstances. But now you see it for what it is: not letting you step closer was an act of love. As much as you drawing the Chernabog to yourself to try to save her; as much as you trying to convince her to not shoot Lily; as much as her sacrificing her wholesomeness to protect your chance at happiness... those were all acts of love, and so is this.
Your heart still hurts, though. You still want to run up to her, Dark One be damned, and just hug her for once. You've had that impulse so many times before, but never acted on it, never allowed yourself to. You're not good at that kind of thing with anyone but Henry, you were never sure it would be well-received, she's not generally the touchy-feely kind... so you never did; but now you wish you had. Now you wish you could. For a moment you consider just dashing for it, but you know it would be a bad idea. It would scare her – even more than she probably is already – and it would go against her will, and you don't know the repercussions that either of those could have right now. You file it in your mind, though, with the resolution to do it the very first chance you get.
The thing is... you know what she's saying makes sense. Rationally, you know she's dangerous. But you do really see her as just... Emma. The Emma who always did her best to be good, who always tried to do the right thing. The Emma who was selfless enough to sacrifice herself for you. That's the Emma you know. And you trust her, even if she doesn't trust her own self right now. And you think you might be able to help her with that at least.
"Emma, you're not going to hurt me. I can stand my ground." You try to make your voice sound as calm as possible, but still firm and steady and certain.
"Against the Dark One? Not even you can do that, Regina." She has a point... you know that, but she doesn't have to.
"We'll never know if we don't try. What's the worst that can happen? You hurt me, I heal myself, I'm good as new. Besides, I have the dagger; all I have to do is tell you to back away if you're about to harm me."
She actually scoffs at that, and this time you're the one to not understand. "You won't have time for that, Regina. If it strikes... that's it. And the thing is... I'm not in control. I can't... I can't control it."
You tentatively raise your arm and reach for her, but the distance is still too big and she doesn't shorten it the slightest bit; you just let it fall back down and settle for just looking into her eyes and trying to make her see what you're trying to say.
"You can control it, Emma. I believe in you."
This time, she can't stop herself from rolling her eyes, which hurts you a bit, but you do nothing to demonstrate it. "Well, you shouldn't, because I can't. I couldn't even control it when it was just my own magic, remember?! I hurt Henry! I could have killed him."
"But you didn't."
"That was sheer luck. I could have. And that was just me. But now? With this... this darkness swirling and boiling inside me?"
She grimaces when she says the word "darkness", disgust and anger clearly shown on her face, and her voice gains a new intensity for the rest of the sentence that makes your breath catch inside your lungs for a moment.
She finally takes a few steps in your direction, her presence not at all what it was just instants ago. "Now, I could actually kill him."
The way she says this is also completely different from the way she said a very similar sentence just now. Her tone, the look on her face, the way she brings herself... all of it has changed in mere seconds. It scares you, but you try your best to not let it show.
Now you're the one to want to step away, but you don't let yourself. You don't move an inch from where you stand, and she finally reaches you, standing entirely too close, nose almost touching yours. You can feel her heavy breaths on your cheeks.
"I could kill you."
She's sneering now, and you know you have produced similar expressions in the past, sometimes even directed at her, and it hurts. You recognize this for what it is. No longer an argument or hypothetical thinking, but a threat, clear as day. She could kill you.
Your breath is now ragged too, and yet you still refuse to step back. She probably knows you're afraid, can probably see it in your eyes, but you don't want to demonstrate it at all if you can help it.
And then she shifts, and all you have time to do is think that this might just be how you die – and it would be well-deserved on all accounts.