The Thinning Veil
Regina sighed as she perused the costume section of Storybrooke's largest department store, asking herself again why she hadn't crafted a little costume shop. Halloween would be arriving in less than a week and she was still yet to pick out an outfit to wear to the All Hallows' Eve ball.
If it wasn't for her status as Storybrooke's Mayor, she'd have likely skipped out of the holiday celebrations and settled, instead, for a night in whilst Henry gallivanted around the streets outdoors, knocking on each and every house in a desperate search for candy. It was one of the few nights of the year that Regina actually allowed him to consume the sticky toffee horror that was the chocolate candy mess he'd return home with at the end of a night of trick-or-treating, and Henry, as always, wholly took advantage of the little leeway he was given. His bag of treats, by the end of the night, always bordered on excessive. It made Regina's teeth itch just thinking about it.
Frowning, now, she thumbed through the outfits that were folded and wrapped in plastic wallets, hanging from the rack of Halloween costumes. The majority of them were either too frumpy or provided little other than a sheath of material and a pair of devil horns; nothing that she'd willingly have people see her wearing.
It was between the witches' hats and the vampire wigs that Regina finally lost the will to browse any longer, and almost gave up completely on her search. She could always go as a homicidal maniac, she mused; she wouldn't need an outfit change for that…
Just as she was about to leave the store, a shining black mask caught her eye, and Regina lifted it from its hanging position to better observe the fine details etched into the leather. It looked costly, but it wasn't as though she hadn't the money to spare, and it reminded her of a piece of clothing she had stored away in the back of her wardrobe. She hadn't been able to leave it behind during the uprooting of the fairytale land to her little town in Maine, though only now was she finding herself with a justifiable reason to actually pull the outfit out and don the familiar material once again.
It was with a satisfied smile that Regina paid for her little black mask and left the store. The people of Storybrooke would likely gawp, and if Henry caught sight of it he'd probably start handing out pitchforks and torches. If only she was eligible for the costume competition…
# # # #
"You're going to the Ball?" Emma asked with an expression that sat between surprise and mocking.
"Yes," Mary Margaret answered defensively, "I go every year. You should come, too."
Emma held up her hands as if physically shielding herself from the invitation. "No can do," she told her flatmate, "I promised the kid I'd take him trick-or-treating."
Mary Margaret smiled softly and her features suddenly took on a pixie-like quality as she asked, almost impishly, "Are you dressing up?"
Emma practically guffawed. "Like hell am I dressing up." She shook her head as though the very thought of donning a witch's outfit was offensive.
"Aw," Mary Margaret pouted around a smirk, "I bet Henry would appreciate the support."
Emma sighed, eyes wide as she deadpanned, "He's going as Beetlejuice. He has a wig and a striped pimp suit. Me standing within a mile of him is support enough."
As serious as she was, a fond smile graced her lips as she conjured up the image of what he'd look like in the ridiculous outfit Regina had bought for him – upon his request, no less.
Mary Margaret let out a pleasant chuckle and her smile widened as she cried, "That's the holiday spirit!" But Emma only rolled her eyes with a smirk.
"I'll stick on some devil horns or something, it'll be fine," she shrugged, and then, "What're you wearing?"
The smile that came over Mary Margaret's features was both bashful and coy, knocking ten years off her as she tilted her head to one side and gave a soft shrug. "You'll see," she grinned, tone high.
Emma raised her eyebrows and grinned back, instantly curious. "Okay…" she smirked, "just don't go scaring the kids, eh?"
Mary Margaret made a noise of mock offence and playfully slapped her friend's arm. "You just worry about yourself," she warned, "Henry's not going to be best pleased when he sees you're not making an effort."
Emma easily ignored her raised eyebrows. That was one move she was not going to be guilt tripped into.
# # # #
Regina dropped her head to one side as she assessed her reflection in one of the large, dusty mirrors backstage in the Town Hall. Over the speakers dotted around the room, she could hear Archie Hopper - dressed as Frankenstein's Monster - giving a quick greeting over the microphone.
She cringed as she heard his ghoulish laugh, and let out a long breath as she heard him call for her arrival. Taking a step back away from the mirror, Regina gave herself one last once-over before turning and strutting past the curtain that hid her from view of the stage.
The Town Hall, decorated with fake cobwebs, black drapes, hanging creatures and the odd pumpkin here and there, twinkled under the dim green lighting, shadows occupying each corner and slowly swarming in around the crowd, threatening to engulf each and every person present. The strange light did not, however, set Regina out of pace as she took to the podium behind the microphone.
"People of Storybrooke," she began, her politician's smile almost turning genuine as she watched the wave of shock roll over the crowd as they took in her outfit with a stunned silence, "All Hallows' Eve is said to be the one night of the year when the veil between this life and the next is at its thinnest. The celebration we now know as Halloween was derived from the Celtic festival Samhain over two thousand years ago, when people would leave offerings to the dead as a means of both respect and reassurance of their own souls' immortality."
Regina's smile grew devilish and she gently tilted her head to the side as she continued, holding the attention of her audience like she could quite easily their hearts, "Tonight, let us honour the dead with a toast."
She snapped her fingers, gaining the attention of a nearby waiter, and nodded him over. The tuxedo-clad man - with a pair of plastic fangs in his mouth and some fake blood on his neck - hurried to the stage, holding up his platter of drinks. Regina selected a glass, fake cobwebs clinging to the bottom, and held it aloft as she moved back to the microphone.
Sliding her gaze over those present, as though a Queen would her royal subjects, Regina's eyes took on an almost glassy sheen as she spoke once more into the microphone. "To those souls since passed. May they rest in peace…and not wreak too much havoc in our little town tonight."
The crowd eased under her tight smile and everyone repeated her toast in a mutter, bringing their drinks up to their lips as Regina took a sip from her own glass.
Licking her lips, she finally finished with, "And with that, I bid you an excellent night," before stepping back from the microphone and leaving the stage to enter the crowd of masked and painted figures.
Music instantly began thrumming, dark beats seeping a sinister melody over the ball as Regina looked upon those present, sipping her wine. The garish lighting made it almost impossible for the hall to maintain its sense of strict normality and, for a second, as she watched those around her in their cheap outfits and ridiculous accessories, Regina thought that the veil of this world and her old land had finally shattered, and in had swarmed the ghouls and the ghosts, werewolves and witches…
Repressing a shudder, she brought her wine glass up to her lips and tilted her head back as she finished off its contents. The familiar outfit hugging her body had brought about a most regal posture, and she watched the people around her from the eyes of a Queen, large and just as dark as the world which they perceived. Tonight was going to end well, Regina vowed, reaching for another wine glass from a passing waiter.
# # # #
"Mary Margaret?"
The schoolteacher jumped a little and looked up from the sink her hands were currently gripping onto, seeing Ruby, clad in the tiniest red leather devil's outfit Mary Margaret had ever seen, in the mirror hanging from the wall in front of her.
Her lips pulled into a smile and she turned to face her friend with a pleasant, "Ruby, you look…great."
Ruby's toothy grin lit up her face, though whether at Mary Margaret's words or the outfit she was wearing, she wasn't sure. "And you look…" Ruby trailed off and finally let out a happy laugh. "You look incredible. Great costume." Her nose wrinkled fondly and Mary Margaret felt a blush licking at her cheeks.
"Thanks," she mumbled, only for Ruby to tilt her head to one side.
"How come you're hiding in here?" She asked, nodding to one side as though to include the entirety of the ladies' toilets in her question.
Mary Margaret shook her head, eyebrows raised, and tried to ease her voice as she said, "I'm not hiding." Ruby's own eyebrows raised in disbelief and a smirk drew her lips into a tight smile. Sighing, Mary Margaret corrected, "I was just…getting some space. There are a lot of people here."
"Mhm," Ruby's eyes narrowed in mock suspicion, and she mused, "But something tells me there's only one person who you're interested in avoiding…and you can't stay in here all night."
Mary Margaret's face fell, blush burning her cheeks, and her mouth opened as though to protest but Ruby cut her off before she had the chance.
"Mary… you can't run from David forever."
"What?" Feeling herself frowning, Mary Margaret quickly masked her confusion with shame as she tilted her head, eyes downcast. "I know… I just…" She sighed a little and finally peaked up to look at Ruby to see if the story had been solidified.
"It's just…difficult."
Ruby offered her friend a sympathetic smile and nodded in agreement. "I know it is, but if he chose Kathryn, there's not a lot you can do."
Mary Margaret nodded and let out a sigh, making a great effort to maintain her 'I am an independent woman' persona as she rubbed her hands together and worked a smile onto her lips.
"You're right," she said, "I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm hiding away in the ladies' toilets."
"Right!" Ruby grinned, seemingly seconds away from fist-pumping the air. "C'mon, Mary May, let's get back out there."
The macabre façade of the Town Hall only added to its grandeur, making it appear twice its size. The crowd, easily filling the large space, helped Mary Margaret in keeping to the shadows, watching those from afar as they drank punch, danced and stood around talking. Her outfit was, as she had expected, the only one of its kind, and that knowledge alone did nothing to quell her insecurities.
The outfit itself wasn't what was bothering her - in fact, she was rather proud of it - but after seeing what the town's mayor was wearing, she felt as though she was thirteen years old again, with all her blustering, teenage hormones.
Sighing, she brought her plastic cup up to her lips and took a sip of the sour, alcoholic liquid. She was sure Ruby had spiked the punch with something.
Doing her best to stick to the shadows, alone now, Mary Margaret watched as a break in the crowd gave her the perfect view of Mayor Mills, a gaggle of faces chatting animatedly around or to her. She sighed again as she took in Regina's outfit, struggling to keep in a strangled moan. She was sure Regina had done this on purpose, if just to frustrate her from a distance.
Safe in the knowledge that she was far too hidden to be observed, Mary Margaret allowed her eyes to travel the expanse of Regina's lean frame. The outfit was frankly alarming, something she would expect to see Ruby wearing, but it looked so suited to Regina's form, Mary Margaret wouldn't be able to find it in herself to complain should she wear it every day.
The heels, she noticed, were at least familiar; ridiculously high and a crisp, shining black. The leather of the shoes sunk perfectly into the tight-fitted - and damn were they tight - black leather trousers that clung to Regina's legs like a second skin. The corset she wore was, unsurprisingly, also black, trimmed with lace and holding tiny jewels and extraordinary embroidery.
To finish off the look, Regina had painted her lips in a startling red, fluffed and curled her short locks, and wore a small, shining mask that covered her eyes, save for peepholes. It reflected brilliantly in the dim lighting that bathed the Town Hall.
Mary Margaret might believe Regina had come to the Halloween Ball as nothing more than some form of sex goddess, had it not been for the two cat-like ears that stuck up from a band hidden in her dark hair.
The entire ensemble put a whole new meaning to the phrase 'sexy kitten,' and it was standing there, gawping, she was sure, that Mary Margaret's eyes finally locked with the object of her gaze. Regina's eyes sought her out through the crowd, barely seeing the bright hues of her baby blues, and Mary Margaret was sure she saw a black energy leave the dark eyes stalking her, seeking her very soul as it rushed to her heels and slunk up her body like living tar. Or perhaps she had just had one glass too many…
She watched Regina turn, eyes never leaving her, to make some form of excuse for her departure to those around her. Her smile was bright, red lips dazzling even in the green light, and her expression only grew more predatory as she slipped easily through the crowd.
When she appeared before her, much quicker than she thought possible, Mary Margaret was almost convinced that Regina was wearing no outfit, but had transformed herself into the hottest Catwoman she had ever seen. (And, just for the record, Halle Berry had nothing on Regina Mills in leather.)
"Ms. Blanchard." Regina even grinned like the cat who was about to get her cream. "How nice to see you could make it."
Mary Margaret tried to nod, or to speak, but she found her entire life as she knew it depending on these next few moments as she hung off Regina's expression. She felt those dark eyes falling over her outfit in an impossibly painful scrutinise, and tried to remember how to breathe.
The look that pinched Regina's expression, Mary Margaret suddenly realised, was nothing short of searching as she attempted to place who she had come as.
It was only when Regina's eyes slid back to hers, framed by empty glasses, and then further up to the lightning bolt-shaped mark upon her forehead, that a character's name finally came to mind and a smile split her lips.
"Nice to see you've made quite the effort with your costume."
Mary Margaret blushed, fingers - hidden from view inside the oversized cloak she was wearing - clinging tightly to the heavy black material.
"Have you entered in the competition?"
Sucking in a breath, knowing that Regina was expecting a reply, Mary Margaret struggled against the heat of her costume as she shook her head. "No, I… didn't think to enter."
And it was true; there was only one person that she had wanted judging her costume tonight and the reward for first place, she was sure, would be better than anything that could be given to her in the crowded Town Hall.
Regina's eyes dropped down to her outfit, again, and it could have been a full minute, or a mere ten seconds - Mary Margaret found she had already lost complete sense of time - before they reached her face once more.
"Shame," was all she said, though the sparkle in those dark orbs suggested something other than mere emptiness and that, Mary Margaret discovered, was enough to spur her into talking.
"Good turn out," she dropped easily, but she knew she had to keep Regina's interest if she wanted her attention, and it almost pained her to know that she did, indeed, want her undivided attention. "You appear to be in your element, Madame Mayor." And now she took her time in once again assessing her outfit. Damn, Regina Mills wore leather well…
"Yes," Regina smiled, red lips pulled tight and gleaming, and Mary Margaret was unsure as to whether she was now referring to the Ball or her outfit, "it fits me well, if I do say so myself."
And she could, Mary Margaret conceded, she absolutely could.
"Regina!"
It was Kathryn who disrupted them, and Mary Margaret made sure to jump a whole step back, out of the secluded atmosphere she and Regina had woven around themselves.
"Hi! Wow, your outfit is… damn, you look great!" Kathryn grinned, a half-empty wine glass clutched in one hand.
"Thank you," Regina smiled, taking the compliment in her stride. "You, too, look wonderful." A pause. "Who are you supposed to be?"
"Er, Freddie Kruger?" Kathryn frowned.
Her eyes fell to her outfit, frown remaining, as she wondered whether it was as good as she had first thought it to be. "You don't see it? I left my mask with David…"
Almost as soon as she said his name, Kathryn noticed the other woman standing with them, "Oh, hi, Ms. Blanchard."
"Mary Margaret…" She tried, attempting a smile, feeling as uncomfortable as she ever had, "Hi. Great costume."
"Thanks - oh, I love yours!" Kathryn beamed, oblivious to the nasty tension in the air. "I used to love Harry Potter!"
Mary Margaret nodded in agreement and, fingers clinging tighter to her heavy school robe, she decided that if she didn't leave, she might just collapse. The pressure of the atmosphere was slowly weaving its wicked awkwardness around her throat in thick, thorny tendrils, and breath was beginning to elude her.
"I'm going to go and get a drink," she stated quickly, eyes flicking between Kathryn and Regina, "I'll see you later."
She couldn't even wrestle up a morsel of regret at her possibly rude tone as she quickly ducked out of the way of a passing waiter and slid back into the shadows, heading straight for the punch bowl. She'd definitely need more liquid courage if she was to get through the night - and, with Henry staying with Emma at their shared apartment, thus rendering Regina's manor house empty for the night, she fully intended on lasting at least until party was over.
# # # #
It was nearly two hours later that Regina next imposed herself on her. Mary Margaret had finally escaped a dancing pumpkin and slipped from the dance floor, through the throng of twisting, sweaty ghouls, and had reasserted herself in the shadows when a hot, lean figure pressed against her back. The breath against her ear provoked a shiver with its warm, damp drawl, and the smell of alcohol did not go amiss.
"Why are you hiding back here?" Regina asked, thanking the sheerness of her leather trousers as she pressed herself further into the dainty wizard's back.
"I'm not hiding," Mary Margaret said for the second time that night, though even she was now beginning to question the statement.
She turned quickly and was almost dissatisfied when Regina, even despite the alcohol on her breath, remained rooted firmly to the ground; not so much as a sway rocked her body.
"What are you doing back here? I thought you enjoyed being the centre of attention."
Regina smirked. Oh, she did, that much was true, but it was all dependent on whose attention she was the centre of and, right now, she couldn't be happier with her audience. "I don't much care for Balls," she chose to say, though Mary Margaret did not miss the double entendre to her words. She fought to repress a laugh.
With her fingers wrapping around the thin stick in her pocket, Mary Margaret produced her character prop and asked, easily turning on the innocent doe-eyes, "What about wands?"
Regina's eyes fell to the pale hand fingering the toy and she had to swallow back a laugh - and that all too familiar roll of desire. "Oh, wands I can work with," she practically purred, stepping closer to the other woman.
They were almost completely out of sight, behind a hanging, tattered black veil, and the alcohol in her system helped her worry not about those that might possibly witness her interaction with her son's schoolteacher.
"I'd like to see your technique," Mary Margaret replied, maintaining character even as her breath hitched and her fingers tightened around the toy wand in her hand.
Regina released a low chuckle and even over the heavy, Mary Margaret heard her next words with startling precision. "The party has peaked. Why don't you take me home?"
"Oh?" Was all she managed. "Already?"
"Yes," Regina breathed, warm and easy, as she slunk ever further. Even through the thick material covering Mary Margaret - and encouraging a light blush across pale cheeks - Regina's hands felt her way along strong hipbones.
"Aren't you going to show me your broom?"
Mary Margaret swallowed, all she could do, and struggled for oxygen. "I'm not sure I should be flying under the influence…" And she wasn't sure if Regina had heard her, as her eyes fell to those approaching red lips, voice fading with hooded desire.
"I'll let it slide," Regina purred, and now Mary Margaret was fully convinced that she had, indeed, transformed into the ultimate feline predator before her own glossy eyes. "Just this once."
Perhaps if Regina hadn't mewled, or dug her fingers into the soft flesh around her hipbones, Mary Margaret conceded, she might have been able to hold out for a minute longer.
"I'll call a cab."
"No need." Regina's smile filled with smugness, though Mary Margaret could hardly find it in her to care. "The night's beautiful; the walk should do us good."
The air was cool and crisp and a receding mist clung desperately to the edge of town, reeking of lost souls and their hope to remain, as the two dark haired women walked the lonely streets. Storybrooke's annual Halloween Ball was widely acknowledged as an unmissable event, meaning the majority of all townspeople attempted to cram into the Town Hall. What with it being just over midnight, the streets were deserted of miniature goblins and ghosts in their determined quest for candy.
They were perfectly alone, under that cool night sky, with only the stars to witness their companionship.
Mary Margaret finally thought to thank the heavy material of her costume as it beat away the chilly bite of the late night and, with a quick glance to Regina, she assumed her leather was acting to shield her gloriously tanned flesh in much the same way.
Regina shivered only when she felt Mary Margaret's gaze on her and, still in her mask, Mary Margaret still in her glasses, she turned to face the other woman with a mischievous smile.
It was without thought that she slipped her arm through Mary Margaret's in a languid loop, leaning into her warmth as they travelled the night. Mary Margaret said nothing as they walked, their footsteps the only recognisable sound in the air. The sky above them boasted the glow of a waxing moon, shining upon them so strongly as if to erase the bad blood that had long since showered over both, sticky but impossibly sweet.
Their walk was proving to be just as enjoyable as Regina had anticipated, and as her eyes slid to Mary Margaret, she thought that like this, with just them and the moonlight, she might be able to forget the past and forgive. Move on.
It didn't take long, after a rattling key was thrust through the lock in the mayoral mansion's large front door, for Regina to pull Mary Margaret inside her home and, with an easy thrust and twist, pin her against the back of the same opening they had just, seconds before, entered through.
The stairs were their first welcome obstacle, breaking a kiss just in time for Regina to spot the glasses and the ridiculous mark on Mary Margaret's forehead. The glassless spectacles were first to go, tumbling carelessly down each step, and the pad of Regina's thumb made short work of the lightning bolt scar.
With the removal of her costume identity, Mary Margaret scowled up into the face of the mayor, feet swaying questionably upon the carpeted steps. Regina almost smiled upon noting her expression.
"I'd much rather share my bed with you than Harry Potter," she offered as a means of explanation, hands grasping Mary Margaret's petite frame once more as she pulled her up the remaining stairs and through to her bedroom.
It was through resumed kisses that Mary Margaret managed to get out, "Oh, careful," her tone was light in its mocking, "that almost sounded like you're enjoying this."
The bed was a welcome refuge for their swaying, unstable legs, and the pair tumbled upon it without thought as layers were shed and leather was pried from hot, desperate skin.
Submerged in the familiar scent of the woman beneath her, Regina allowed herself to wonder, as her lips traced the hints of a blue veined trail down Mary Margaret's translucent chest, whether or not the veil shielding their old life, their past, had finally thinned enough to allow for forgiveness to seep through.
And then she wondered, capturing a nipple and revelling in the gasp from above, the tighter hold on her short, dark locks, if that was even possible, if it ever would be, and why she wished it was.