A Long Flight

Nightmares taunted her. Swords gleaming in the darkness, swiping at her face, her neck, the edges of her throat and down.

There was swallowing darkness, surrounding with echoes of nothing but the hollow sounds of silence. She was alone at moments, but only briefly. She'd hold tense in the silence and wait, knowing that it would come without warning and strike.

She'd be sliced, feeling the sword tear down her body. It would begin in her heart; puncturing it. Slowly that would bleed and expand, striving for another chance at life before the sword would drag down her body, cutting down and down. She would crudely be torn in two, sliced and hacked at until she was staring up at the darkness. She wasn't enough, when whole. Never enough.

Laying in the darkness, she would be aware of what was inside of her, exposed to the air. It was black, diseased and swelling; oozing where she was split in half.

They were wrong, they'd all been wrong. It wasn't a void the curse had left, but a cancer that had bloated inside of her until it was bulging, as her son's anger towards her only grew stronger.

But she couldn't fall, couldn't give up. Her fingers reached out and pieced herself together bit by bit. She had to find Henry, had to prove that she was, that she could be...enough. Her legs shook and pus oozed from inside of her and drench down her clothes, slipping down like droplets of sweat.

But she pushed forward, ignoring it. She needed her son. She knew that if she could just find him, just hold him for a moment, this would all disappear.

I found my real mum!

She was splitting and swelling, her body oozing and consuming everything she'd once known to be her. It was painful to walk, her feet would shake and each step was growing hard and harder to take. She tried, she tried to step forward, to take another step, reach towards Henry and hold him.

All she wanted to do was hold him.

Please, she whispered into the darkness, Henry.

His face shimmered briefly, a reflection on something that disappeared before she could reach out and touch it. Falling to her knees, her body caved in. Her legs hit the shadows in a piercing blow and her arms hugged her body, piecing it together, trying to make it stick as it began to split apart again.

She was alone, she wasn't whole.

Wasn't enough.

I hate you!

The words were gutted her and Regina's body shook uncontrollably as her son stood over her. The ground rose and the dirt bound her in chains. She gasped, staring up at her son. Henry! She pleaded. I'm your mother!

The sword appeared in his hand. He pulled it back, making sure to look down at her with nothing but contempt before he swung it at her neck.

Painfully she awoke, her finger grasping at her throat as her body shook uncontrollably with sobs. In the darkness of her room, beside her, a hand slid around her waist and immediately she was pulled into welcoming arms at the person sat up to comfort her. "Hey, it's okay," this whispered.

Her head buried in a familiar neck, and Regina's hands wrapped around the body as she denied the words over and over again in wrenching sobs.

"They're getting worse," the person whispered, running their hand soothingly through Regina's hair and down her back as they pulled the woman back down on the bed and completely in their arms. They held her against their body until the sounds of crying were muffled, leaving nothing but the gasps of breath as the woman's shoulders shook, desperate to hide the sounds.

They laid there for a moment, until Regina's sobs became quiet. Her hands were still caught around her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to stop the tears when lips pressed against her forehead.

She fought then, fought to pull away, struggling with her hands pressed between them. The person only pulled tighter as Regina's hands pushed and pushed until she gave up and cried again. Dropping her head in defeat.

Regina could feel her breath brushing against the person's skin, back to her own. It was suffocating, but she was so tired.

"I can't do this any more," Regina whispered, "I can't."

"He will come around."

"He won't." Regina twisted in the arms and rolled to face away. Her body was tense as the hands pulled away from her.

When fingers slid back over her waist, brushing against her stomach and curling under her, she relaxed and allowed to be pulled back until almost every inch of her was pressed up against them.

"He needs time," they whispered, the words brushing hotly against the back of her neck.

Regina laughed bitterly. "Everything he believed has been confirmed. We're back in this forsaken land, and I'm the Evil Queen, again." There was a pause and for a moment Regina believed that the person would roll away and give up trying, or deny the very fact that she was the Evil Queen again.

But they didn't.

Instead, lips pressed against the back of her throat and Regina breathed out a sigh. "You're his Mother, you raised him-"

"You think I don't know that?" Regina tensed again and twisted away to look at them, "Do you think that I'm not aware of the years-"

But a finger pressed against her lips, and she went quiet as the eyes gazed at her. She was too tired to fight. It wasn't truly a battle. She was lashing out and they both knew it. "I know," they whispered, "you don't have to prove anything with me."

In the darkness, her eyes stung and pinched as her throat swelled and her hands shook. Repulsively she was reminded of the cancer inside of her. "I just wanted to be happy."

Lips, again, pressed against her skin. Against her cheek, the stains of her tears, down and down until they met her own lips.