A/N: Okay, guys, here's my bench fic. I just couldn't pass up on the opportunity, especially since the idea has been bugging me since I first saw the photo. I really, really, really hope you like it. Reviews are very appreciated so don't be shy, drop a few words. :)
A Savior In Need Of A Queen
xxx
"A throne is only a bench covered with velvet."
Napoleon Bonaparte
xxx
They say time heals all wounds. As she stands on the docks, the harsh winter wind making her cheeks bristle with cold, Regina is finding that hard to believe. After all, time is all she's ever had and yet she never managed to come to that point when it's okay, when those gaping wounds stop bleeding, when her heart feels mended and whole again. Looking at the rippling water and fishing boats slowly rocking in the distance, she isn't sure if she'll ever get there. Maybe that is her curse – trying to reach her happy ending, but always being two steps behind. Grasping it only for it to slip through her fingers, like the soft sand that remains once a glowing red heart is crushed, never to beat again.
There are people passing her by, but none dare to look her way. Once upon a time, this would make her smirk in satisfaction. Being feared was once a great ego booster. Now, though, it makes her feel emptier with every breath she takes. She's not even sure if they avoid her out of fear anymore. Given the events that have transpired since the curse broke, it could very well be they feel sorry for her. Another thing she tried desperately to escape, but failed in the end.
Feeling her legs stiffen, she realizes she's not sure how long she's been standing there, completely still, lost in her thoughts. Judging by the cold that is slowly settling in her bones, it's been a while. She's not ready to go home, however. If she can even call the great white mansion a home anymore. It's nothing more than walls and vast empty rooms now, a perpetual reminder of everything she's done wrong in a life that has spanned several worlds and lifetimes. If she didn't live through it all, she would be inclined to believe her life is one from a book as opposed to reality. Her lips curl in a sad smile, realizing there is indeed a book that tells her story. The book that started it all.
The fact remains that she doesn't want to go to that big empty house so she turns to her left, intent on settling herself on an old bench that sits by the docks. A bench she's come to refer to as her bench. She grits her teeth as she fights away an instant wave of pain that shoots through her body, her mind filling with images of times past, times spent on that very bench with her son in her arms, counting boats and seagulls. Her little boy. The years when he enjoyed spending time with her seem so far away now, just a hazy dream of happier times long past, once again out of her grasp. It seems to be the running theme of her life.
She moves then, trying to escape those treacherous images, trying to shake them off. She lifts her head then and stops, noticing her bench is already occupied. There's a woman sitting there. And not just any woman, but the woman.
The nemesis, the mother of her child, the Savior.
Except that she looks nothing like any of those. She's sitting on the bench, her legs folded beneath her in a way that reminds Regina of Henry. She's sipping on something that Regina presumes is coffee, Henry's book laid across her thighs. She looks like a teenager at best.
There's something about this whole scene that urges Regina to walk over to the blonde instead of turning away and going home. Recalling everything that's happened lately, especially between the two women, the former mayor thinks it may be time to simply sit down and talk.
"Enjoying some fresh air, Ms. Swan?" she says softly as she approaches the bench. She doesn't sit down, opting to stay on her feet for the time being.
"Regina," Emma says as she looks up and locks her eyes on the swirling pools of chocolate.
They share an odd moment filled with awkward silence; neither woman speaks or moves. Eventually, Emma motions to the adjacent bench with her hand and Regina takes the hint, sitting down and facing the blonde.
"Reading Henry's book, I see," Regina says in an attempt to make light conversation, but there's a distinct strain present in her voice.
Emma looks down and turns the page, nodding her head.
"I'm surprised you haven't read it already. I presumed Henry," she pauses as the name leaves her lips. "I presumed he made you read it as soon as he brought you here."
"He tried," the blonde says, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But, of course, I didn't believe him so I never paid the book much mind."
"Well, I believed him," the brunette says and swallows. "And yet I made him feel like he was crazy so-"
"I know why you did it," the Sheriff interrupts her.
"What?"
"I lied to him about Neal," she explains, not missing how Regina's whole body stiffens at the mention of that name. "I – I thought I was protecting him."
"Well, I guess we both have some things to learn," the former mayor offers and gets a sad smile in return.
They share another moment of silence, Emma focused on turning the pages of the big book. Her eyes scan the pages, but she doesn't read. Regina settles for watching the other woman in silence. It's odd, to say the least, to simply sit with her like this after everything that's happened between them. This is probably the first time the two of them are having a normal conversations since… Since they've met, actually.
"I'm sorry, Regina."
The soft apology brings Regina out of her reverie and she locks her eyes on the blonde, confusion written across her face.
"For," Emma goes to say, but stops, obviously choosing her words. Regina doesn't push. "For what happened with your mother," she says and eyes the big picture of a hand crushing a red heart.
Regina swallows and urges the tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes to go away. It will not do to cry. It's done. She did what she had to do in order to save her son and there's no going back. Even if she could, she's sure she wouldn't.
"I'm not sure how that's your fault," she says softly, still looking at the picture.
"I just – I just think that's not something a child should ever have to do."
"Why do you care?" Regina asks. It's a sincere question, no malice in her voice.
Emma sighs. "I'm the Savior, remember?"
"My dear, I don't think the Savior is supposed to save the Evil Queen," the brunette offers, flinching involuntarily at the use of those titles.
"Why not?" Emma asks plainly.
Regina looks at her then, her eyes searching the blonde's face as if trying to see why this woman cares. Why does she take it upon herself to apologize for things she didn't do, not to mention apologize to her. Why is she thinking about helping her, saving her. It's unsettling; it's something the former queen isn't used to and she's not sure how she's supposed to respond.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Emma nods and starts turning the pages again, taking the hint and dropping the subject.
She stops once she reaches a picture of Cinderella and her prince, bathed in light, dressed in beautiful costumes, sincere smiles gracing their faces. Her jaw clenches.
"I can't do this," she says, not taking her eyes off the book.
"Can't do what?" Regina says as she looks at her, not minding the fact that the blonde doesn't return the look.
"I can't be who they want me to be," Emma breathes out.
"And who is it that they want you to be?" Regina asks even though she already knows the answer. This all sounds very familiar and hits close to home.
"This – this fairytale princess," the blonde says, her lips curling in disgust as she practically spits out the offending word. Regina finds it almost endearing. "They keep talking about their kingdom and their people and how we have a responsibility…" she trails off.
"And that's not what you want," Regina offers.
"No, but-"
"But you don't know how to get out of it," the brunette finishes the thought.
Emma nods.
"I've been there," Regina says, her voice distant.
"What did you do?" Emma looks at her, hope and fear mixing in her deep green eyes.
"I became the Evil Queen," the former queen says matter-of-factly, not missing the way the Sheriff flinches and returns her eyes to the book.
"So, you're saying there's no way out," the blonde says, turning another page.
"There is," Regina pauses. "I'm simply not the right person to ask which way that is."
There's no bitterness in her voice; she's simply stating a fact. Looking back, it seems that every single choice she's ever made was a wrong one. Well, not every; there were a couple of good ones, but they fade in the midst of all the tragically bad ones. Even after all these years, she's not sure she knows which way is the right one. Maybe she never will, maybe that's just one of her many curses.
Emma doesn't say anything, but turns the page, her eyes locking on a picture of Snow White and Prince Charming on their wedding day. Regina looks at it as well and, even though there is rage creeping inside her, she finds it's not as potent as it used to be. She feels… Deflated. It simply isn't worth it.
"Do you think there really is a thing called True Love?" Emma asks, her fingers toying with the page.
"I know there is," Regina says, not missing a beat.
She sighs then, feeling that familiar sadness rush through her whole being. There is a thing called True Love, she's absolutely sure of it. What many people don't know, however, is that nothing hurts and nothing destroys the way True Love does. She learned that lesson the hard way.
"His name was Daniel?" Emma asks softly, not lifting her eyes from the book. She vaguely recalls a story Henry told her and remembers her mother saying something about a certain Daniel, but she never really paid attention.
She looks up once Regina doesn't answer. Their eyes lock and Regina's are a raging storm of melted chocolate, rimmed with tears threatening to spill over and drown them both.
"I – I'm sorry. That was stupid," Emma hurries to say and shakes her head, mentally berating herself for the way she crossed that line. She goes to turn the page, but Regina's voice stops her.
"Yes," she barely whispers. "No need to apologize. I'm just – I'm not used to talking about… Him."
Emma nods, not knowing what to say.
"How do you – how do you know?" she aks after a brief moment of silence, hoping it's okay to ask the other woman such a personal question.
"You just do," Regina says plainly and it's the truth. There's no special formula for True Love. It's simple – two souls coming together, finding each other and the moment they do, all is clear and all doubts are gone. There really isn't a feeling that can compare.
She swallows, feeling the hole in her chest contract, the hole she spent decades of her life trying to close and it only kept getting bigger and bigger.
"Was Neal-"
"Oh, no," Emma jumps in. "Not even close. He was just… There I guess. I was young and I thought it was the real thing but you know how-" she stops abruptly. "I'm sorry. I guess you don't."
She shakes her head at the way she manages to ruin a moment in a flash.
Regina offers a small smile and nods.
"I'm pretty sure that's not in the cards for me," Emma adds after a moment.
"What makes you say that?" Regina says, grateful that the focus has shifted from Daniel.
The blonde shrugs. "I just… It's still a fairytale concept to me, even though fairytales turned out to be real," she say, a smile gracing her lips.
Regina smiles as well. "Well, you never know."
Emma nods and lowers her eyes to the book once more, her fingers reaching for the page, intent on turning it. Regina looks away and concentrates on the seagulls flying above the water, knowing exactly what's on the next page. She tells her mind not to think about that day, but she knows it's futile. The chances that the blonde will simply skip the next page are non-existent. Sure enough, the unmistakable sound of paper scratching against paper reaches her ears only a moment later.
Neither woman says anything for a long time and Regina wills herself to look at the blonde. When she does, she sees green eyes glued to the page, the look on her face contemplative, her lower lip trapped between her pearly-white teeth. Her fingers are gently running over a picture of a woman dressed all in black, her posture intimidating, rage evident on her face. She's announcing her vengeance, after all.
It feels like it happened a lifetime ago and it really did. And yet, it feels so real and so close at the same time. If she closes her eyes, Regina can feel the black corset wrapped around her so tight it's almost suffocating her, she can feel her legs encased in black leather, the magic raging through her body, the judgmental eyes of all those people locked on her. She can feel the palpable fear rolling off of every person in that grand room. She can remember what it was like to feel she won for once in her life. And how it felt to have it all taken away.
"I can't control it," Emma says, still looking at the picture.
Regina's body jerks as if being awoken from a terrible nightmare and she looks at the blonde.
"Control what?"
"My magic," the blonde whispers, the ever-present disbelief at that word evident in her voice.
It's not news to Regina. The whole town has been brewing with stories about the Savior and her magic accidents. Apparently, it's getting worse and Snow is out of her mind with worry. Regina can't help but feel the slightest sliver of joy at the thought of Snow not being able to enjoy her perfect life.
However, looking at the blonde and the worry written across her face, Regina also can't help but feel sorry for her.
"Do you – do you want to tell me about it?" the brunette offers awkwardly, not sure what she's supposed to do, but knowing that she doesn't want to go home, not yet. If it means talking to the Sheriff about her rookie magic problems, then so be it.
"I wonder what Mary Margaret would say if she knew I was talking to you about my magic," Emma offers with a sincere chuckle.
"Well, I can't say I particularly care about that," the former queen says, the smile on her lips indicating that she really is amused by the turn the conversation has taken.
She waits patiently for the blonde to decide whether or not she's willing to share.
"I can't – I – every time I get angry or something like that," Emma says after a while. "Something happens."
"Something?" Regina's eyebrows furrow.
"Something… Explodes," the blonde says, the look on her face mortified. "Yesterday Mary Margaret gave me her 'we are royalty' speech and I accidentally made her favorite flower vase explode," she ends sheepishly.
Regina gives it her best to stiffen a chuckle that is settling in her throat, but she ends up laughing out loud, her eyes lighting up with honest amusement. Emma looks at her wide-eyed, witnessing the other woman laugh for the first time. A moment later she's laughing along. Whether it's about her mother's vase or this whole ridiculous situation she finds herself in, she doesn't know.
"Hey! That's not funny!" she tries to keep a straight face, but fails miserably.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but it very much is," Regina says, catching her breath.
"However," she adds, her expression growing serious once again. "It's also dangerous. How many times has it happened?"
"I don't know, a lot," Emma says solemnly.
"Was Henry there?" the former queen asks, her voice growing stern, the mother in her showing through.
"No," Emma says with a shake of her head. "No, not once."
Regina narrows her eyes, finding it hard to believe.
"It happens when I'm angry and arguing," the blonde tries to clarify. "I do my best not to get angry around him."
Regina watches her intently for a couple of seconds and then nods her head, as if sensing the blonde's sincerity. She may have agreed to let Henry stay with Emma, but if the blonde were to endanger him in any way, there's no doubt in her mind she would storm into their apartment and get him out of there immediately. Sure, she would be the evil one again, but it wouldn't be anything she isn't used to anyway. Her son's safety must always come first.
"Why does it keep happening?" Emma asks, playing with her hands nervously.
"Magic, Ms. Swan, works as an extension of ourselves," she pauses when she notices the blank look in Emma's eyes. Forcing herself not to roll her eyes, she goes on to explain.
"It's a part of you. Like – like another arm or what have you. It does what you tell it to do."
"But I'm not telling it to do anything," Emma says, confusion evident in both her voice and on her face.
"Exactly," the brunette nods. "Which means you're not in control and your magic has a mind of it's own. Every time you get emotional and lash out, your magic lashes out, as well."
"But how do I get in control?"
"Practice," Regina says simply.
"Is that… What you did?"
"Yes."
Emma's eyes return to the picture of the woman in black. The woman who made whole kingdoms shiver in fear and bow down before her. The woman whose wrath ravaged all the land and brought perpetual misery to untold masses of people.
Regina knows exactly what's going through the younger woman's mind and she's not sure how she's supposed to feel about it. A part of her is sorry for all the things she's done over the last few decades, a part of her wishes she could take it all back and start over. However, there's a very little, but a very loud part of her that is proud of all her accomplishments, in a very twisted sense. That part of her finds the fear the blonde has that she would become like the woman in the picture, well, insulting.
Regina squeezes her eyes shut and silences that voice in her head.
"Ms. Sw – Emma," she says and the blonde looks up in wonder at hearing her name come out from the brunette's mouth for the first time. "You won't – you won't become her. You won't become… Me."
"That's not-" Emma tries, shaking her head, but Regina doesn't give her the chance to finish the thought.
"It is," she says with a certainty in her voice that can't be argued with.
The blonde chews her lower lip and returns her gaze to the book, looking utterly embarrassed.
"How do you know?" she whispers after a moment of silent contemplation.
"I just do."
"But how?" Emma looks up, her eyes filling with tears, desperate for that one straw of hope to grasp.
Regina sighs heavily. "Because I know how one becomes the Evil Queen," she pauses, looking straight into those bottomless pools of green. "And you're not on that road."
Perfect droplets of clear water start their descent down rosy cheeks and the blonde hurries to wipe them away. It's in vain, though; it's not like she can hide them from the other woman.
"Can you – will you help me?" she asks, her voice breaking by the end of the sentence.
Regina runs her eyes all over the blonde's face, not really sure what she's hoping to find. There's nothing there apart from a woman thrown into a life she didn't ask for, a woman torn between so many sides with so many people wanting something for her, not stopping to think if she can give it to them. It's all too familiar, and Regina can feel her jaw clench as her mind races.
The nemesis, the mother of her child, the Savior.
A woman in need.
And another woman on the other side, in search of her redemption.
Regina gives a slight nod, more to herself than to Emma.
"Yes."
Emma lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Regina nods and stands up, ready to leave. She stops just when she's about to turn, a thought forming in her mind.
"Do you think," she tries, but stops, unable to say those words out loud; the fear of rejection simply too strong.
"Yes?" Emma asks sincerely, hoping to get a chance to return the other woman's kindness.
"Do you think I could maybe see Henry?" the brunette manages to say and it's her voice that is cracking now.
"Yes," Emma says with a wide smile on her lips. "I'll talk to him."
"Thank you," Regina breathes out, a mix of relief and newborn fear running through her veins. "Just – just don't force him, please. I promised him it would be his decision."
The blonde smiles and nods.
"And tell him I love him," she adds softly.
Emma's grin grows bigger. "I promise."
Regina nods with gratitude written all over her face and turns to leave. She's stopped by the sound of Emma's voice only a couple of strides later.
"Regina?"
She turns around, facing the blonde again, her eyebrow raised in question.
"Have you read the book?" she says, motioning to the book sitting in her lap.
"Excuse me?" the brunette's eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
"You asked me if I'd read the book. Have you?"
"I skimmed through it," Regina offers. "It's hard to read it when the whole book is a testament of every wrong turn you've ever taken," she finishes, startled by her own sincerity.
Emma nods, understanding written all over her face.
"Do you think the book is finished?"
"I'm sorry?"
Emma smiles and swallows before saying her next words.
"Do you think you can write new stories?"
Regina can feel her heart clench as the words leave the blonde's mouth. Her jaw twitches for a moment, as well as her fingers. It's a dangerous thing, hope. All her life, she's been taught not to put her trust in it. The only thing that's certain is power. Hope, love, all these things, they're fleeting. They don't stay.
But maybe, just maybe.
"Have a good day, Ms. Swan," she says with a smile on her lips, a smile that reaches her deep brown eyes.
She doesn't wait for a response. She simply inclines her head, turns around and walks away.
As she walks across the hard wood of the docks, the heels of her boots clicking rhythmically, she thinks of a glass of apple cider, the sincere smile of a certain Savior and a certain boy who smiles just the same way.
xxx
"A whole stack of memories never equals one little hope."
Charles M. Schulz
xxx
FIN