Disclaimer: I own nothing here, no matter how much I wish I did. I'm just taking them out to play.
A/N: I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, Jo, without whom this fic would never have seen the light of day.
o
Regina woke to a dull pounding in her head, her throat sore and dry. Gingerly she turned over on to her side as a wave of nausea rolled over her; clamping a hand to her mouth she swallowed down the bile that threatened to spill. Gods, what a hangover, she thought as she struggled to open an eye, what time is it? She fumbled out with her free hand towards the nightstand, reaching around for her phone, still unable to open her eyes against the blinding light of the day.
With her phone securely in hand she pulled the blankets over her head, creating an artificial darkness for which her sore head thanked her. Letting her eyes creep open she flicked her phone on, groaning as she noticed it was fast approaching noon. Thank the gods it's Saturday, she thought quietly to herself. She was unsurprised Henry had not taken the time to wake her, had probably spent the morning visiting Emma as he did most Saturday mornings. As she went to click the phone back off again she noticed she had a text message. Her curiosity piqued even as the dull ache in her head continued unabated.
Just want to make sure you're alright, you sounded quite off when we spoke last night. Call if you need anything. MM
She groaned again as she clicked the phone off. Had she really called Mary Margaret last night? She had the vague recollection of having a conversation with the uptight schoolteacher, but whatever was said was lost in the haze of her mind and likely best forgotten anyway.
She wondered if she could fall back to sleep and shut the day out, be content to bring her entire world down to the size of her bed, her blankets, and her small frame contained within. Her headache hammered the inside of her skull relentlessly and each time she swallowed she was reminded that her throat felt drier than the Sahara; painkillers and water would be a most welcome sight.
Slowly she pulled the blankets from around her head, keeping her eyes firmly closed as she moved off to the side of the bed. She swung her legs over and paused as she felt the plush pile carpet beneath her bare feet, waiting until the world stopped spinning. As the room stopped moving she stood up, reaching out with her hands as she made her way blindly towards the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Leaning back against the cool, wooden door she could feel this room was darker than her bedroom. Carefully she opened her eyes against the grey light of the bathroom, shielded by heavy blinds against the single window at the other end.
She stumbled to the sink and groaned at the sight of herself in the medicine cabinet mirror, flashes of her conversation with Mary Margaret the night before coming back to her.
Miss Blanchard, will you please tell Miss Swan to come to the phone. This childish behaviour of hers is unbecoming.
Groaning again she opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed her bottle of painkillers. With no small amount of effort she managed to remove the child proof lid and pour two of the white tablets into the palm of her hand. It took her only slightly less effort to replace the cap and fill the glass by the sink with water. She shuddered slightly as she swallowed the tablets; the water welcome to her dry mouth and throat, but decidedly unwelcome to her churning stomach. She battled once again to keep the contents of her stomach under control, swearing that she would never touch another drop of alcohol.
Carefully she moved over to the bathtub, not willing to make any sudden movements, and began to fill it. Perhaps a nice, long soak would quell the rebellion inside both mind and body, would allow the magic of painkillers their time to work.
As she lowered herself gently in to the steaming water she let out a small, contented sigh; the water lapping around her body. The heat of the water began to revitalize her and clear the alcohol induced fog from her mind. Slowly she mulled over the phone call she had made to Mary Margaret the night before, the vulnerability of it shaming her as she felt her stomach drop.
"Miss Blanchard, will you kindly inform your house guest that I am on the phone and am waiting to speak with her."
"How much have you had to drink, Regina?"
"That is no concern of yours. Now will you please put the Sherriff on the phone."
There had been a hesitation, the sound of a chair scraping against floorboards.
"Regina, maybe you should lay down for a bit, sleep this off. You'll feel better in the morning."
She hadn't meant to let despair enter her voice; had intended to push and intimidate in order to get her way. But her damnable voice, it had betrayed her when she least expected it.
"Mary Margaret," she had all but pleaded, "I need to speak with Emma. She's not answering her phone..."
There had been a sigh at the other end of the phone, a pause, a slow intake of breath.
"Not tonight. Go, sleep it off, I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Mary Margaret's response had brooked no rebuttal; Regina had ended the call without saying goodbye.
Regina groaned as she held her hands to her face; had she truly been so stupid as to call Mary Margaret in that state of mind? She wasn't sure she would be able to face her again after this, for allowing her weakness to be so exposed before another. Truly she should have known better. Alcohol be damned.
Sighing deeply she slipped further down in to the bathtub, let her head slide momentarily underneath the warm surface of the water, effectively shutting out the sounds of the world around her. For thirty seconds she held her breath in the peaceful surrounds before she pushed back up again. Damn Emma for making her this weak.
Pulling herself up she stood in the bath, the water cascading off her, running down the olive skin of her lean body. She reached out for a towel, noting her hangover was beginning to recede as she stepped out on to the bathmat, leaving wet imprints against it. Thank the gods for painkillers, she thought as she dried herself off.
With some trepidation she opened the bathroom door in to her bedroom, squinting as her eyes became accustomed to the light. What she wouldn't give to crawl back in to bed, to sleep the day away and fade in to oblivion. Instead, she pulled herself together, dressing herself in a grey pant suit with a navy blue blouse. It took her a few more minutes to apply makeup and fix her hair and she felt that maybe, just maybe, she was ready to face the day. And it would be quite the day - her first stop was to see Emma Swan.
o
Henry made his way quietly up the stairs, following at a distance behind his mother. Had she taken the time to turn around and spot him, she would have been livid that he was there. But thankfully for him, she had not. He watched as his mom entered Emma's room and closed the door behind her; stealthily he made his way over to the door, sitting on the floor outside. As long as he was quiet, he would be able to hear what was said inside - the doors weren't thick enough to stop the sound travelling. He waited patiently until eventually he heard Regina begin to speak.
"Miss Swan, you really have no right to be remaining here as you are; you have responsibilities to the community."
Henry sighed softly to himself - it was going to be one of those conversations. He fidgeted slightly, scratching at his arm; a nervous habit he'd picked up and never really shaken. His mind wandered briefly as he leaned his head back against the door, only snapping back to attention when he heard his mom call Emma by her first name.
"Emma, you can't stay here, you have to... gods, Emma..." He heard his mom quietly exhale and pause briefly before continuing, "I called Mary Margaret last night, asking to speak with you, can you believe that? I got a text from her this morning - she was concerned. I guess I can't really blame her, all things considered."
Henry pulled himself up straighter - this certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear.
"I wonder if I'd been honest with you if things would have been different. If we'd been different. Or would that have just driven you away sooner? The doctors, they tell me you can still hear me, even like this. Is it true, Emma? Can you hear me?"
There was another pause as Henry felt the slight pin pricks behind his eyes. He'd never heard this side of his mother before.
"I hope you can hear me, I like to think you can; that somewhere inside you are still you, and you're just sleeping, ready to wake up and spring back in to life."
He heard a soft laugh, his mother's laugh - he hadn't heard that for so long. But this time it sounded sad, full of resignation; he swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat.
"I wish I'd told you all the things I wanted to say; that yes, while you irritate me beyond belief, I do love you. I think, maybe, I always have. I think that was the reasoning behind all our arguments, the spark that ignited each and every fight. Gods Emma, how your eyes would blaze with such emotion - I could have fallen forever into those depths."
The cold floor of the hospital finally became too much for Henry as he stood up from the ground; carefully he peeked through the glass window into Emma's room, watched as his mother hovered tenderly over the comatose blonde.
"Did you love me, too? I often wonder if maybe you were sent to us, the saviour our son has hailed you as - could it possibly be?"
Henry watched as his mother took Emma's hand in her own, lovingly stroking it with her free hand. This was almost too much - was his mother not the Evil Queen? Should she not be relishing the fact Emma would be unable to fulfil her destiny? He shook his head; watching his mom, the only thing he could see for sure was that she was in such desperate pain and so utterly broken. He blinked forcibly, trying to still his tears.
"We need you to come back, Emma - our son needs you. Gods, I need you. Please, come back to us. Come back to me."
It wasn't until Henry saw his mother lean forward and kiss Emma's forehead with more tenderness than he could ever recall seeing that he came undone. He backed away from the emotionally charged moment he saw before him in the bleak, sterile hospital room; walked back until he hit a solid object.
"Henry?" he heard from behind.
Spinning on his heel he looked up in to the concerned face of Dr Whale.
"Henry, are you ok?"
Henry found he'd lost the power of speech. Glancing between the private moment in Emma's room back to Dr Whale's face he shook his head before scrambling to run down the stairs and out of the hospital.
His mother loved Emma and Emma was the saviour. It dawned on Henry that maybe, just maybe, Emma was here to save his mom too, and with that in mind there was only one thing he could think to do.
o
The man glanced up from his dusty, old book as he heard the bell above the door chime.
"Ah, young master Henry, what can I do for you today?"
He watched as the young boy walked over to him, his jaw set in a strong line of determination. He'd wondered how long it would take for him to make his way in to his shop.
"I know who you are."
"Is that so? And who might I be?" Mr Gold answered. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, this would be almost too easy. The boy before him had already put his hands on to the glass display case between them, a glint in his eye.
"Rumplestiltskin," Henry had hissed.
If Rumpelstiltskin had been surprised that Henry knew his name, centuries of practice at hiding his emotions served him well. He closed his book and slid it on to the counter top with feigned indifference to the words Henry had spoken.
"What makes you think I'm Rumpelstiltskin?" he asked, careful not to deny the fact.
"I found something that belongs to you, something you should have hidden more carefully."
He felt his cheek twitch slightly, a thin veneer of uncertainty creeping in on him.
"And what is it you found, master Henry?"
"A knife."
Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow as his eyes flickered to the place his knife had always been. How had he not noticed it missing? He was always so careful, so meticulous.
"What makes you think the knife is mine?"
"You're the only person I couldn't figure out. Now I know why. You wrote the book, you disguised yourself."
Rumpelstiltskin watched intrigued as the young boy's eyes flashed with anger and.. something else. This boy, he mused to himself, wants something. If there was one thing he knew about, it was making deals.
"Well Henry, if you know who I am, you know what I do. What is it you want, dearie?"
"I'll trade you - the knife for Emma. You have magic or you've brought something with you, something that can make things happen. I know you have. And you want out of this curse as much as the rest of us - maybe more. You can't want to be trapped here indefinitely."
The boy was smart, he'd give him credit for that. And if he were honest, a few of his magical items had made it through to Storybrooke with him, quite in tact.
"You know, Henry, nature moves forward in a certain way, in a certain stream. Events happen and there is a flow to it all. For every black, there is a white; for every good, an evil. Do you know what I'm saying, Henry?"
Henry blinked and swallowed, opting for false bravado. "Why don't you just spell it out?" he challenged.
Rumpelstiltskin felt the tug again at the corners of his mouth. It was true he really did want to be rid of this curse, this town. He had other things that needed his attention and if the saviour lay in a coma it would do him no good either. Truth be told, he had almost intervened anyway but now, here was Henry.
"Henry, you have to think very carefully about what you're asking. True love's kiss can break any curse, but" he said, holding up a finger to silence the young boy's outburst, "for Emma to wake up, someone must take her place. Everything comes with a price, young Henry. Is that a price you are willing to pay?" He looked earnestly at the young boy, thankful that contracts made with minors in a magical capacity held the same weight as an adult.
"So I get Emma and her true love to kiss and she wakes up?"
"That is correct, Henry, but then a debt will fall due."
He watched as Henry chewed on his lower lip, clearly going over in his young mind whether this was a bargain he could make.
"I can pay the price," Henry said finally, reaching out his hand over the counter.
Rumpelstiltskin smiled as he shook the young boy's hand. "Then a deal is struck."
Henry reached inside his bag and pulled out the knife he had stolen, laying it down atop the glass display cabinet. He looked Mr Gold in the eye once more before turning his back on him and walking out.
Rumpelstiltskin grinned as he watched the door close behind the young boy, an evil gleam to his eye.
o
Regina felt tears welling in her eyes as she looked at the sleeping form of Emma before her, unmoving below crisp, white bedsheets. In idle moments she allowed herself the fantasy that Emma loved her as she so desperately loved Emma. She moved her hand, slipping her fingers through Emma's blonde hair, pushing it away from her face; the soft beep of the heart monitor fading in to white noise as it had done every visit for the past six months. Six months of Regina coming here every weekend, six months of a drunk Regina calling Mary Margaret demanding to speak with Emma, six months of swearing never to touch a drop of alcohol again.
She never would have thought it possible that perhaps she would be able to call Snow White a friend, but she supposed in this realm Snow White was dead; here, Mary Margaret had been her rock whilst Emma remained comatose, had been the only thing that had kept Regina mostly sane throughout these months. She owed a lot to Mary Margaret and was sure the debt could never be repaid, not fully.
But here and now she looked down upon the peaceful features of Emma Swan, let her hand trace the blonde's jawline and cup her cheek softly. She had spent untold amounts of money bringing in the most highly qualified neurosurgeons to no avail; had spent more time praying in the last six months than she had in a lifetime, but still this woman refused to wake. Tenderly she stroked Emma's arm, whispering words of love and comfort to her.
The doctors had told her the longer she remained in a coma, the less likely she was to come out of it. Though they had never said it directly, she knew Emma was slipping away - going to a place beyond the veil where even she could not follow. And it hurt her to see Emma like this, so fragile, so vulnerable; as if she might break in to a thousand pieces in the smallest gust of wind.
"Please Emma," she murmured, "come back to me. I need you, I love you."
Her reverie was broken as she heard the click of the door opening behind her.
"Henry?" she asked, looking at him quizzically, "what are you doing here?"
She watched as her son walked up to her and was slightly taken aback when he put his hand over hers, which was still resting upon Emma's.
"You love her, don't you," Henry had stated openly.
Regina dipped her eyes briefly under the question. Could she tell her son? Should she tell her son? She sighed softly, there was no use denying it.
"Yes Henry, with all my heart I do."
Henry nodded his head solemnly as he put his other hand to Emma's forehead. "Me too," he'd said quietly.
Regina's heart broke just a little at the admission.
The stillness hung in the air as mother and son watched the steady rise and fall of the blonde's chest. It had been so quiet, Regina was almost sure she missed it when Henry spoke again.
"I love you too, Mom," he'd murmured, never taking his eyes from Emma.
"Oh Henry," Regina said, pulling her son in to a tight embrace, "I love you as well."
For the first time in almost two years, she wondered if maybe her son was returning to her. She kissed the top of his head as she gave him another tight squeeze. All too soon, however, he was backing away from her once again.
"Have you kissed her, Mom?" he asked, his eyebrows pulled high.
Whatever Regina had been expecting her son to say, this clearly had not been it. She watched as he pushed his hands in to his pockets, waiting for an answer.
"No Henry," she said, shaking her head, "Emma and I... we were never.. together.. before.." she struggled with the words, instead finding herself indicating the prone form of the blonde on the hospital bed.
"What about after? Did you kiss her after?"
"No, Henry. What is this all about?"
He sighed, exasperated. "But what if it wakes her up? What if all she needs is true love's kiss?"
Regina exhaled deeply, ready to begin an explanation of how this was not a fairytale, how kissing an unresponsive person was actually tantamount to sexual assault, when the heart rate monitor's regular beep started to become erratic.
Regina jumped from the bed, calling out for Dr Whale as she brushed at Emma's face, panic rising within herself.
"C'mon Emma, don't do this. Stay with us, we need you here. Please baby, stay with me." The words tumbled from her lips, running together in a mantra, a prayer, a hope sent on the wings of fairies. Henry's cries from behind faded as she looked between Emma and the machine to the side, a feeling of dread threatening to overwhelm her.
Dr Whale pushed in, racing to Emma's side as the heart rate monitor's erratic beeps transformed in to one continuous sound; the rise and fall of her chest stopping.
"Do something!" Regina yelled, fear holding her in its vice-like grip, hot tears pouring down her face.
Dr Whale shook his head unhappily. "I'm sorry, Madam Mayor, she has a Do Not Resuscitate order on her medical records. She filled it out when she became Sherriff." He looked sadly at the brunette as tears streamed down the woman's face. Turning back to the monitor, he switched it off. "I'll leave you to your goodbyes," he said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
"Do it!" Henry exclaimed as he moved up next to his mother. "Kiss her, Mom!"
"Henry, I..." Regina began before being interrupted.
"Just do it, Mom! For once, please listen to me, just do it!" He hadn't known the debt would fall due so quickly, he'd wanted to have time to mend old wounds - but now it was too late. He hoped this would be enough, he hoped they would understand.
Regina watched the warring emotions flash across Henry's face; what could it hurt to grant this one wish from her son? Nodding she turned her attention back to Emma, ran her fingers through thick, blonde hair before she leaned down. She refused to allow hope to enter her mind, a silly dream that belonged in a realm long since destroyed. Softly she felt her lips brush against the younger woman's, allowed herself the small fantasy that she was waking the blonde woman up, rather than saying her final goodbye. It broke her heart.
Sadly, she stood back up and looked over toward Henry.
"I'm sorry, Henry, I..."
From the bed beside her she heard a loud gasp.
She wasn't sure who was more shocked, herself or Henry, at that one, beautiful sound.
"Emma! By the gods, Emma!" Regina reached down, holding Emma's hand in her own, needing the physical contact to reassure herself it wasn't a dream. She couldn't help the feeling that entered her heart as she watched Emma's eyes flutter open; couldn't help the smile that spilled upon her face, lighting it up.
"Regina," she heard softly from the bed, forest green eyes remaining unfocused in her direction.
"Henry, go get Dr Whale," Regina said, excitement hitching at her voice.
For his part, Henry couldn't run out of the room fast enough. He was thankful he had been able to see Emma awake, thankful he was able to bring his mother this amount of peace and hopeful that Emma would be able to rid Storybrooke of the curse after all. The debt could fall due and he would know it was not made in vain.
Regina caught herself as she made a motion to run her fingers through Emma's hair once more. It was a beautiful fantasy to believe that true love's kiss had woken her, but in truth, perhaps it just hadn't been Emma's time.
"Regina," she heard Emma say again, almost melting in radiating joy.
"Yes Emma, I'm here," she leaned down closer so the blonde woman wouldn't strain herself trying to speak.
"You asked me a question," she heard the blonde say.
"I did?"
"You did, and the answer is yes."
Regina drew her eyebrows together, a look of puzzlement crossing her features. "What, pray tell, did I ask?" she enquired.
"You asked if I could hear you."
Regina gasped softly, feeling her cheeks begin to flush with shame. Gods, she thought, with everything I've said. She began to pull her hand away and was surprised by Emma's firm grasp, holding it tightly.
"That wasn't the only thing you asked," Emma said, her green eyes finally focusing on the brunette at her bedside. "To your other question, that is a yes as well."
Regina shook her head as a look of disbelief passed through her eyes. "You mean..?"
"I mean I love you too. Now will you kiss me properly already?"
Regina yielded immediately, pressing her soft lips against Emma's, her hand cupping Emma's cheek. Breaking apart she looked in to the depths of the other woman's eyes, seeing only love reflected in them. A gentle cough from behind brought her back to reality and she noticed Dr Whale standing with a very confused Henry.
"It's a miracle," Dr Whale said as he moved over next to Emma, Regina moving only slightly to give him space.
Regina reached out to Henry, pulling him closer, her other hand never leaving Emma's grasp.
"Is everything ok, Henry?" she asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm just.. I thought something bad might happen after I left," he stuttered.
Regina ruffled his hair. "Emma's back and we're going to make this work, Henry," she smiled at her son. They would be a family, it was the only right course of action. "Stay with Emma a moment, I need to make a quick phone call." She squeezed Emma's hand one more time, watching as Dr Whale continued talking to the blonde as she stepped outside the room, cell phone in hand.
Quickly she scanned the numbers for Mary Margaret, tapping her foot against the vinyl floor as the phone rang. She cursed to herself silently as the call went to voicemail. Groaning softly she left a message.
Mary Margaret, it's Regina. The impossible has happened. Emma's awake! Come to the hospital when you are able, I know she will want to see you.
Regina tapped the phone to end the call and moved back in to the room as Dr Whale's pager went off.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm needed elsewhere. I'll be back to run more tests shortly."
Regina sat down on the edge of the bed beside Emma, happiness thrumming through her. Her world was complete.
She was unsure how long the three of them remained there, Henry sitting on one side of Emma, herself on the other. It was a future she had never dared hope for, never thinking it could be a reality. Hearing Henry chatter on and on about things that had happened over the last six months and Emma's soft replies was possibly the most beautiful and heartbreaking moments she had had in decades.
Regina glanced back towards the door as she heard a knock. It was Dr Whale.
"Regina, might I have a word with you?"
Regina slid off the bed, giving Emma's hand a quick pat before following Dr Whale out in to the main corridor. To her surprise, he closed the door behind her.
Henry watched from inside the room as a feeling of dread rose in his stomach; watched as Dr Whale put his arm around his mother; watched as she doubled over, her hands to her face. The door truly was not thick enough to hide the sounds of sobs as they pierced through to his heart.
Minutes passed as he and Emma watched, Emma squeezing his hand in reassurance, the silence in the room deafening. Eventually the door opened once more and his mother walked in, wiping at her eyes.
"Regina," Emma murmured, "what happened?"
Regina looked between Emma and Henry, shaking her head as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Biting her lower lip she shook her head once again as she lowered her eyes. Looking down she grabbed on to Emma's hand, holding it tightly, anchoring herself before she spoke.
The pair waited as Regina collected herself, the pit in Henry's stomach growing ever larger. Finally he couldn't take the silence any more.
"Mom? Please, what's wrong?"
He watched as his mother lifted her eyes, meeting his own before shifting towards Emma, his unease growing.
"It's Mary Margaret," he heard his mother say, "she's been in an accident. She's.. she's dead."
Henry felt his world collapse in on him, as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. This was supposed to be his price to pay, not Miss Blanchard's. Slowly he felt the hot sting of tears slide down his cheeks, allowing them to turn in to sobs that wracked his small body as his mother tried to wrap her arms around him; trying to tell him it would be alright.
But how could it ever be alright? He had thought he was bargaining with his own future, his own life, all the while never realizing the price he was paying was to live with what he'd done.