"You idiot." Regina hissed, her words coming out slightly breathless as she struggled under the weight of one Emma Swan. For her part, Emma seemed to be clinging to Regina much like a child to a favorite stuffed toy. It had been less than 24 hours since "You thought we were friends?" and "I don't want to kill you." and now here she was, flat on her back on the velour chaise in her vault, the Savior sprawled across her. This was not how she saw things proceeding, not in the slightest.
They had been practicing simple enchantments, basic things intended to teach Emma to pull forth and control her magic rather than just relying on instinct and sheer force of will. Emma had lasted a whole two hours before she started whining about how none of this made sense to her and how she was never going to get anywhere on an empty stomach. Before Regina could even manage to snark out a response she heard the other woman declare,
"Oh hey, you brought snacks!"
She whipped around right as Emma stuffed an entire (albeit small) cupcake into her mouth.
"Emma no!" Regina shouted, reaching out even though she knew it was too late. As soon as the confection slid down Emma's throat, her eyes began to flutter, a look of sleepy confusion passing over her features.
"Re-gi-na?" She gasped out right before her heavy lids slid all the way shut and she pitched forward, tumbling towards the ground. Regina had only just managed to catch her, throwing herself at Emma's limp form in time to slide her arms around Emma's torso. Unfortunately, she had no kind of balance in her movement, and with Emma literally dead weight in her arms, the only thing she could do was stumble backwards until the backs of her knees collided with the lounge chair and she fell back, Emma's body following her down.
"Idiot." She murmured again, beginning to push Emma off of her as best as she could, moving to try to get out from under her and out of this ridiculous situation. She finally managed to sit all the way up, resulting in Emma's head of long blonde curls flopping into her lap and, rather surprisingly, nuzzling her face into Regina's stomach and letting out a content sounding puff of air.
"You know," she spoke quietly, as if not wanting to wake the slumbering savior, which of course was silly considering that the sleeping potion she'd consumed would keep her soundly asleep for likely the next couple of hours. "If you had just listened to me, if you would ever bother to listen, we wouldn't be in this predicament at all." Regina was referring to her constant reminders for Emma not to touch anything in her vault, but of course the stubborn woman just wouldn't listen. "Those cupcakes, if you'd taken the time to observe them instead of simply thinking with your stomach, have the words "Eat Me" written on them. Though I doubt you'd understand the reference, I would hope even you would find a cake demanding you eat it a bit suspicious." Regina hadn't noticed that, while she spoke, she had begun absentmindedly running her hands through long strands of soft, golden hair.
"My mother brought those back with her from Wonderland, or rather she brought back the eccentric little chef who had a talent for pastries that pack quite a punch. She said she found them amusing, I never really understood why." Her eyes fell to the woman in her lap, her face so relaxed as she slept that it took years of worry away and had her looking even younger than the passionate fireball of a woman who had arrived on her doorstep with her precious Henry in tow. She knew she should get up, that she should leave. There was nothing keeping here, and Emma would be fine. The potion was a simple one, far less powerful than a full blown sleeping curse, and Emma was under no threat or being trapped in her dreaming state or being subject to horrible nightmares. In fact, if Regina was remembering the contents of those cupcakes correctly, she was fairly certain they induced only the best dreams hidden in the sleepers subconscious. So she should get up and go home, leave this irritating woman to her pleasant dreams and the confusion of waking up alone in the vault, maybe it would finally teach her a lesson about touching things she wasn't supposed to. Instead her body leaned back, adjusting itself, despite her thoughts to leave, into a more comfortable position and gently pulling Emma further onto the chaise with her. It was strange, to say the least, but she felt an odd sense of care for this woman, a desire to watch over her while in this vulnerable state. She ran her fingers along one side of Emma's face, dancing her fingertips across the apple of her cheek before pushing stray hairs back behind her ear.
"I should hate you. I have certainly tried my damndest to do just that, but it seems you always manage to escape my wrath somehow and creep back into my life. You're not unlike your mother in that respect. You know, I don't think I ever truly hated her either." Giving Emma a sharp look at that, she continued with a warning note in her voice, "Don't you dare tell anyone that Miss Swan, and even if you do I'll never admit it. Never." She allowed her eyes to wander then, drifting across the objects from a life long since gone, preserved like a scrapbook come to life, as her fingers continued their ministrations on Emma's head. Eventually her two hands joined forces, slowly beginning to weave and twist Emma's hair into intricate braids.
"I used to do this to Snow's hair when she was still a young girl. I know the picture that is painted of me as some kind of wicked stepmother but in truth, in those early years, I did try to be at least a friend to her. I did my best to fight the anger in my heart, to prevent my rage from turning on her when I knew, deep down, that Daniel's death was not truly her fault but my mother's...and mine." She paused to suck in a shuddering breath, allowing her eyes to close briefly as emotions overwhelmed her, memories of the frightened, lonely Queen she had once been.
"I was terrified of the thoughts that crept into my mind, the way I found myself wanting to turn on that sweet, if abhorrently naive, child. I did resist them Emma, for as long as I could. Sometimes I wonder if Snow remembers any of that now, if she remembers the way she would climb into bed with me after night terrors, the way I would whisper stories of playful fairies and magical horses that could fly while I stroked her hair until she would fall back to sleep with her little body coiled tightly around me." Glancing again at the woman lying mostly on top of her, "Not unlike you are now."
Regina took a few moments then to look, really look, and Emma. Her long hair was so like Snow's back in the Enchanted Forest, the only difference that it had come out in Charming's golden hue. Her skin was the perfect mix of her parent's as well, not nearly as porcelain as Snow White but not quite as ruddy as her shepherd of a father. These things should repulse her, make her send Emma tumbling to the floor before storming out, but...they didn't. Instead she found herself reminded of both a younger, still somehow hopeful version of herself who had tried in vain to fight the encroaching darkness, and of the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, Henry. As much as Emma's features made it clear who her parents were, they also had so many elements that reminded Regina of Henry. From the shape of her face to the shape of her mouth, Emma's contributions to Henry's appearance were undeniable. Were she ever pressed about it later on, Regina would claim this resemblance was the solitary cause of the way her heart seemed to soften just a touch whenever Emma was around. Sure, they'd fought their battles at first, and then even as recently as yesterday Regina had been determined to keep Emma at arm's length if not further away, to keep each and every stone in her walls securely in place where the other woman was concerned, but Emma always seemed to see right into her and she'd found herself responding to Emma's belief in her. And now, in the safety of her vault and with Emma well and soundly asleep, she found herself wondering wistfully if things could have been different, and not just here in Storybrooke. What would life have been like if Regina had never given in to her darkness? What if she had been able to be if not a mother than a loyal and true friend and mentor to little Snow? What if Emma had been born into a happy family and lived out her years in the Enchanted Forest with parents that loved her? Would she and Emma have been friends? Could she have been a valued member of the family (she wouldn't say grandmother, that was simply too strange to think about) to what she was sure would have been a precocious little girl? Could she have found happiness in that life?
Regina shook her head, shooing away those silly daydreams of what could have been. It wasn't, after all, what had become of her life, and in the end there was no use dwelling on "what-if". Besides, had she changed anything, any one single thing from her past, she could not say with certainty that she would have gotten to have Henry, and she would do it all again if it meant having her son.
"Henry was like this too, clingy in his sleep I mean. When he was little it was impossible to get him to sleep the night in his own bed." Again she paused, checking to see that Emma's breathing remained slow and steady, her eyes still closed. She wasn't entirely sure why she was talking to Emma, she was nearly certain the woman would have no recollection of any of this when she awoke (nor would she have been so talkative if she thought otherwise), but it just felt good to talk to another person, even if said person was fast asleep. It had been so long since she'd been able to talk to anyone.
"He didn't have night terrors, no more than any other child so don't get the wrong impression Miss Swan. He was a happy child with no reason to fear or worry." There she went, she sighed, getting defensive even when no one was accusing her of anything.
"Anyway, he simply liked to snuggle. He was like a koala, the way he would just latch on and refuse to let go. I tried to be firm about it, wrestling his little body back into his own bed and even attempting to bribe him with rewards for sleeping the night there. All the parenting books seemed to say that a child his age shouldn't be sharing a bed with his parents anymore, and I was so scared that if I didn't follow all the rules I would mess him up somehow. But, no matter what I tried, most nights I would wake to find that he had, at some point, found his way back into my bed and was curled up against me holding on for dear life. Eventually I gave up, and as he got older he did it less and less." To her surprise, Regina found that while she'd been going on about an apparent clinginess that the seemed to be nearly ingrained in Emma's family's DNA, she herself had tightened her hold on Emma until she was sure that were the other woman capable of waking, she would have done so and complained that Regina was hurting her. Immediately she loosened her grip, though she did not completely let go.
"He would still appear in my bed though, even then, whenever he had a bad day, or was nervous, or feeling ill. Sometimes I wasn't sure what brought him other than just wanting to be near me. I never stopped finding it astounding that he could find such safety and comfort in me. That he could really trust me as his mother. It only stopped when he got that book. He never came to my bed after that. He's never come back to me, not since then." Emma shifted in Regina's arms, silencing her instantly as she held her breath in fear that she was awake and had heard Regina's whispered confessions. She only released the breath she had been holding when Emma's body relaxed again, more fully on her stomach now, her head tucked against Regina's breast, giving a quite snuffling noise before starting to snore just a little.
Regina wasn't sure how long they remained like that. She found that she no longer felt the need to speak, instead she simply held Emma and returned to stroking the back of her head and down the length of her loose curls. There was a strange comfort in this whole situation for her, something so different about once again being so close to another human being without anything expected from her. It was something she hadn't felt since those last nights holding Henry when he'd sneak into her room and crawl under the covers. It wasn't until now that she realized how much she missed having that connection with another person, how much comfort she had gained from those nights with Henry, and even sometimes way back when it was Snow in her bed. Regina wondered then if Emma had ever felt a comfort like that, had ever had someone to hold onto at night to make her feel safe. If she was honest she'd guess the answer was no. She placed her lips against the top of Emma's head, breathing in deeply before she spoke.
"I'm sorry you suffered because of me Emma. I truly am. But I am so grateful to you for bringing Henry into the world, and into my world. If I could change your past without losing him, I would do it, but that is not the way time works, I'm afraid. You said you thought we were friends and I scoffed at you for it. I'm not any good at this, you see. I'm not sure I even know how to be a friend. I don't think I'll be any good at it. What I can say, much as it pains me to admit, is that I am glad Henry dragged you back here that night. I'm glad he forced you into my life. It's funny, you gave me him and then he gave me you..."Her words faded, lost somewhere in thoughts that began to get away from her, until suddenly she was jolted back down to the present by the groggy sounding but very much awake voice of the woman in her arms.
"He gave you to me too, and I wouldn't change that either."