The Glove Compartment
(Dedicated to Megan. Many thanks for rousing a plot bunny that remained out of her hole long enough for me to complete this piece)
For several years, all the blonde guiltily did was to feed the small hidden space inside the yellow bug with a shit load of junk.
A roll of toilet paper for emergencies, more tissues, a bottle of Victoria Secret perfume, overdue bills, a couple more bills and a small yellow notebook and pen that was never used. And many more items that seemed to build into a junk pile.
She never ever felt the desire welling up to empty out that space. In fact, laziness would always win. Until one warm Sunday when the glove compartment could not chew and swallow up anything else, and began to bulge open, Emma finally decided to sit down on the seat and dig up the contents one by one.
Added to the list of items aforesaid, she discovered a roll of gum dried up so much, the darn thing could not be labelled as flexible or edible. She found coins. Tons of them. Then a fucking bails bond notice. Actually not one but a bunch of them rolled up into a telescope looking fashion and reminding her of days when she ran after assholes.
Those days, she wanted to forget.
Emma reached halfway and stumbled upon a load of what appeared to be erasers that had melted and formed into an ugly looking ball. She tossed that into the cardboard box by her boots outside the car and those emerald eyes suddenly fell onto a simple red envelope. Not too eye catching except for the colour as red as blood. But it was enough to pique her interest. And fishing it out, she scanned both sides for any demarcations to signal who or what had delivered it into her space.
There was just one word.
Emma.
And although they had spent ten years together in a small town that never slept soundlessly, having had very little time to scrutinize the most formal of habits, the blonde immediately recognized the handwriting.
It was the admirable way she curled the lines on the E. The way she added little loops at the bottom of the m's and allowing the a to have a little tail.
Swan's lips stretched into a smile. But very quickly, after feeling the content of the envelope and realizing that it simply wasn't perhaps a Christmas or birthday card, her smile faded into a countenance that suggested mild alarm. Intermingled with worry. Curiosity. Then nervousness.
She was already losing her shit by the time those trembling fingers, tips growing cold, managed to fish out a slim sheet of lined yellow paper.
"What the hell…" Emma muttered as her eyes scanned the neat cursive handwriting on both sides. This had to be the most out of ordinary event so far for the day.
At the corner of her eye, she was suddenly aware of David standing by the doorframe leading into the apartment building. He beckoned for her to draw nearer, his forehead creased in concern.
Hurriedly tucking the red envelope into her leather jacket, the blonde hopped out of the car, and collected the cardboard box already half full with junk.
"What's wrong?" she asked, worry creeping into her eyes as David was approached.
He wiped his face with one hand, already appearing terribly upset with an ashen complexion. "It's Regina."
Immediately, her heart stood still. And the silence that followed as the blood drained from Emma's face could not be more pronounced with fright than anything else. It couldn't be that bad, could it? After all the hiccups along the way. After the brunette had fallen and gotten up back on her feet, and managed to survive against all odds, nothing could crash so hard to collapse her.
Nothing.
"Dad," her voice trembled. Her throat ached. Those emerald eyes pleaded for good news instead of the opposite.
"Zelena called just now," he said, terribly worried as well, "she said apparently Regina thought she caught the flu about five days ago. But today, things took a turn for the worst. She collapsed and when she rushed her to the hospital, turns out it's pneumonia."
"Oh God," Emma was absolutely shocked because this wasn't normal. None of this was. Regina wasn't the kind of person who fell sick. In fact, for all the years they had known each other, the brunette never had been struck down by a cold. Of course she would suffer from the worst PMS and cramps, but that was it.
"She's receiving treatment as we speak but she is too weak to even walk. Did you hear anything from her?" he seemed confused. "When was the last time you spoke to her? Didn't she tell you anything? Didn't you know she at least was suffering from the flu?"
"I…didn't," Emma stumbled on her words, as her face was assessed. "Mom mentioned to me that she was under the weather. But I just was so caught up in work and everything else, I never got around to checking up on her."
When the truth was, that Killian had been creating a lot of potholes in their relationship recently. With his constant nagging about the simplest things around the house. They were married but it seemed to her that as the years progressed, all he managed to accomplish in their bond was to grow lazier around the house with no interest in finding a job. Everything, all the burden rested on her. To pay the bills. To cook. Even Henry had begun to stay at her parents' house for most days now.
"Well your mom and I are heading over there now," as he alerted her on that bit of news, her mother appeared in the lobby with a bowl wrapped in a green towel. Most likely it was some microwaved soup from lunch.
"Five days and not once did you check up on her," Snow was already glaring at the blonde. She hustled past her husband, already heading to the jeep.
"Mom, I was busy. Like I said," Emma followed a few steps then stopped. It was no use. Her argument would never win.
Snow rounded on her. "She's your best friend. Your. Best. Friend. Out of all the people in this town, Emma, we always expect you to keep tabs on her. Because whether you choose to remember or not, you two have always been looking out for each other. Always. And I am so, so terribly upset that this has passed by you. She's never been this sick before. Never!"
Emma sighed, already feeling the weight of her lack of responsibility. With her already tied up, the blonde remembered she was hugging the cardboard box. Dumping it would have to be put off for later. Instead, she tossed it into the trunk and jumped in behind the wheel.
The car sped off right behind the jeep, with her heart already beating loudly in that aching chest.
It could have been different.
It could have been so different, had Killian chosen to simply burn off the steam elsewhere instead of at home about a week ago. With his temper flaring and eyes flashing, flinging obscenities in her direction, and all she managed to do was argue back without walking out. Because it was long overdue, that fight. It was like building steam up in a pressure cooker until she couldn't stand it any longer. And if he had chosen then to lift the damn lid, then of course she reacted.
As Emma drove to the hospital, she guiltily recalled how Regina had warned her about the kind of character she had wedded.
Dishonest. Deceitful. Lazy. Vengeful. Hard to redeem himself. Always returning back to his old habits. And she never placed significant importance on her best friend's words. Her best friend. The one woman who would stand by her side through thick and thin without judging. Without magnifying her flaws. Without being selfish.
Emma slammed her hands upon the wheel in frustration at herself and drove on, wishing that she could take it all back and she could have walked away instead of into a death trap of a marriage. Wishing that she had called Regina. And asked her how things were going. Because the brunette had moved back into that awfully large house in Mifflin Street by herself and after five years, she hadn't found love again.
She hadn't been romantically involved with anyone.
Or at least that's what Regina related to her over drinks one and two times.
Most times, the older woman always swerved the conversation into some other topic when love happened to rise up to the surface. She diverted their thoughts skillfully and articulated on anything else other than herself. At times, Emma wondered if the lights had been off for a long time now in Regina's heart without her allowing even the blonde to slip into the dark.
"I mean, I thought she was perfectly fine," Zelena was explaining to them as they quickened their pace down the hospital corridor. Snow was by her side. "A cough here and there. A few sneezes. She wasn't eating much and she looked like if she was managing just fine until yesterday when she grew so pale, I realized something was wrong."
"Did she take anything at all?" Snow asked, "for the flu, I mean."
"No. Not really. You know how she is with pills."
"I know too well," Snow shook her head as they rounded a corner. "Pills are her enemies. She prefers to suffer through migraines and what not, instead of taking one or two."
"And it tells on her nerves," Zelena continued as they swept down the corridor.
David was keeping in pace with Emma who had remained awfully quiet. When he glanced at her, his eyes had a far off look as if something else was going on in there. As if he was looking at her but not exactly at her. As if he was delving into a little more than her emerald eyes.
When they reached the room, for some odd reason, the blonde stopped breathing because perhaps it was the harshness of the A.C but her fingers and toes had grown numb. She could hear her heart beating but with the kind of thud that resonated afterwards. And as Snow glanced at her, Swan took the signal as appropriate, respected it and then, everyone waited as she crossed the threshold first.
In better days when they used to meet up for drinks and laugh with each other over stupid jokes, Regina had coerced Emma into making a very painful promise.
It had been something that oftentimes came up. Like when she would place the termination of her life into the blonde's hands in the event of evil stepping in and swallowing up her soul. But on that day under an umbrella in front of the Diner, Regina had structured the deal just a little too harsh to immediately accept.
And now, the question still played back in her mind whilst cutting deep and sharp as she allowed her eyes to follow the brunette lying on the bed. Covered from the soles of her feet to the curl of her shoulders.
If I end up in a situation where I am terribly ill. And I cannot recover. I don't seem to be getting any better. And worst of all, I'm move onto life support. Will you take responsibility of making the decision to put me out of my misery?
What? Emma had croaked, emerald eyes brimming with tears. Come on. Regina.
I am dead serious, dear.
Dead. She had swallowed hard. I can't do that. You know I can't.
Why?
Because I can't do it.
Why can't you do it? Regina had frowned.
Because Henry wouldn't want me to do it.
Haven't we been using Henry as an excuse to admit the truth for years now?
What? Emma had stared at her.
Regina only sighed. She took the straw in her juice and avoided eye contact. Never mind. I'll ask Snow.
I wouldn't make Snow do it.
So you prefer me to lie like a vegetable? For what? A long time until I rot?
Regina, don't say that.
Don't say what? The truth? If you cannot accept me placing you as the most important person in my life to make that decision then I will find the next best person.
The most important person in her life…
Emma studied Regina for a long time, lying on the bed with her eyes closed. No one had even bothered to fix those dark tendrils that now fanned onto the pillow. And her face was pale. She appeared like a doll, lying there and waiting on someone to pick her up. Someone to hug her.
"Regina," Swan whispered as she drew nearer to the bed. Zelena, Snow and David lingered by the door, as silent observers. Emerald eyes glistening with tears, Emma looked at Zelena, and pleaded. "She isn't unconscious, is she?"
Zelena shook her head. "She's responsive."
"Responsive?" The blonde was already losing her mind. "What the hell do you mean by responsive? Can she talk? Is she…" not a vegetable? Please to God tell me that she isn't at that stage as yet because I will crumble.
"I can…croak," came a voice so hoarse, at first, Emma couldn't understand where it had drifted from. Only to consider her parents and Zelena standing by the door and then, she turned to the brunette lying on the bed.
At first, their eyes met and latched onto each other as if nothing else mattered. Nothing else. She was alive and responding. Fuck, she was okay enough to look at her. To say something. Therefore, the promise that had been made wasn't going to come to pass soon enough. This was just a false alarm, something that would prove to them both that Regina was strong enough to withstand anything.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you," she practically stumbled forward in guilt. Emma realized that after all they had been through, not once had she ever perhaps brushed those stray strands away from brown eyes until then. And when she did, those same eyes blinked slowly reminding the blonde of how beautiful and like a fallen angel Regina happened to be.
"It's okay."
"I should have," she said apologetically. "I should have checked up on you like I always do. But I've been going through hell lately."
"Hook," Regina croaked.
Surprise captured those emerald eyes. But then. It wasn't surprising. "You always know without me telling you," Emma said softly.
"Yes." The brunette tried to shift around a bit, but groaned, obviously deeply affected by aches and pains all over.
"He's just been a jackass, you know?"
"Like he always has been," Regina added.
"I brought you some soup," Snow finally couldn't contain herself and she tumbled into the room.
Leave it to her mother to slip in between the most promising moments they shared. Those moments when they were bonding. Damn her.
For what seemed like an eternity, her parents surrounded the brunette and pampered her as much as they could. She, of course, stood on the sidelines hugging herself and feeling suddenly so awkward and unsettled about something buried deep down inside, at first her mind refused to bring it up to the surface.
But it had to be the awful promise Regina had coaxed her into agreeing to. Pulling the plug. Walking in there, the fear of having to ever do that rose to the surface. And she never wanted to do it.
However, something else was there. Something more…troubling and unexplainable. Something that perhaps could shatter her and was on the brink of shattering her. Something that was only waiting to be identified so that it would sweep in like a hurricane and damage her.
What the hell was it?
Finally, as Snow and David drifted to the door and Zelena promised to return with clothes later in the day, Regina and Emma were finally left alone to gaze at each other.
It wasn't just the ordinary gaze that encompassed deep thoughts travelling across a profound connection. But it was more like reaching for each other without arms and trying to scream something that was, in that moment, jumbled up too much to make sense of.
Instead, what was managed was her footsteps leading to the chair by Regina's bedside. And upon it, she lowered herself with the hopes of them perhaps exchanging a few words before the brunette drifted into sleep.
"Did they give you anything for the aches and fever?" She was terribly worried. As worried as she could be when Henry fell ill.
"Yes," Regina croaked. "Even though I failed to comply. They fed it into me through the I.V."
The blonde actually smiled. "I don't get why you hate pills that much."
"On days before this, I hated pills. But my excuse for today was the fact that…" she ended up coughing. "My throat is so sore, I cannot swallow a pill."
Emma reached for the pitcher of room temperature water and poured a glass. She rose up, then gently brought it closer to Regina's lips. The brunette sipped slowly, those brown eyes latched onto the other woman.
"When I'm down with the flu, I usually curl up and turn into a big baby," the blonde confessed.
"I've never had the flu. Or…this."
"How is that even possible?" Emma wanted to know with a frown. "I mean, you're human. You're exposed to the same viruses and stuff as all of us are. And yet I've never seen you sick with anything."
"I guess I have a strong immune system," Regina suggested, her eyes watering a little. She blinked tears away and her chest heaved.
"Then what happened?" The blonde couldn't help but become saddened by the sight of those tears.
Brown eyes diverted from emerald ones. "I haven't been the best of me in a long time."
What in the world did that mean? Apart from this week that had passed by without contact, Emma used to drop in on the brunette once and awhile. She seemed fine enough, resorting to baking and reading when not in the Mayor's office.
"I never saw that change in you," Emma admitted. "You're fine."
"Am I?" Regina studied the blonde's face. Her expression killed all the happiness in those emerald eyes.
"Shit. I'm judging, aren't I?" Swan hated herself for it. "I'm judging you and you hate that. I'm sorry. Jesus."
"It's okay."
Suddenly, the feel of the older woman's hand upon hers was way too much for that aching heart to handle. In fact, it slightly crippled her to a point where she stared at Regina and was at a loss for words. Because the edge was drawing nearer. The point where she would be flung over the cliff and shattered from the awful truth that was buried deep down inside but welling up like a volcano. And Emma didn't know if she was prepared to understand the truth or whether she wished to remain oblivious.
"What's wrong?" Regina whispered, never removing her hand from where they had finally made physical contact.
Emma's eyes rested just there.
Immediately, the brunette broke the connection, appearing apologetic. "Forgive me. I'm sorry for being so intrusive."
"No," the blonde rushed out. "Shit." She shook her head feverishly. "It's alright. I'm just. It's not that. It's just that. Well..." trying to divert from the truth was painful. "I keep remembering when you asked me to keep that promise about pulling the plug on you if the time comes. And it will never come."
Regina studied Emma's face carefully. The silence lingered on.
"You're never going to go down like that," the blonde said, hanging onto the silence as it weighed down on her. "I can't think of you…like that."
"Like what?"
Emma lowered her gaze to the rise and fall of the older woman's chest. "You know." She shrugged.
"We've had this conversation before. Or at least…I tried to."
"I know."
It was unforgettable. "And you shut me down," Regina croaked.
"I did. Because it hurts me." At least she was speaking from within. So deep within that it was taking her breath away.
"Of course it hurts. It means that some small part of you cares about losing me."
She could be so harsh sometimes with her words. The way she put the truth out there plainly, whilst between every single word, leaked so much emotion.
"I'm not going to lose you," Emma whispered.
"I wouldn't live forever. One of us has to die."
"Why do you always have to stick needles in my heart like this?" the blonde croaked, allowing their eyes to meet as hers welled up with tears. "Saying these things to me so easily and not realizing how it kills me? Do you think that I'm a rock?"
"I'm merely stating the obvious, Emma," Regina said softly. There was visible strain in her expression. "Forgive me for being so blunt."
"Go ahead and tear me down."
"I'm not trying to tear you down," the brunette said with worry. "Let us hope then, by some small miracle, that we both die at the same time."
"Stop it," Emma sprang up from the chair and seemed immediately frustrated and angered by the words uttered from someone she had grown to love. "For fuck's sake, stop with the death talk. It's unnecessary."
"Okay."
"Stop. Trying to implicate me. I'm fucked up enough as it is to talk this through with you."
"Okay." Regina's voice had fallen into a hoarse whisper. She merely lay there motionless with those brown eyes glistening from tears.
Emma twirled around. "Is that all you have to say to me? You know I hate it when you use that word. It's like a knife."
"What do you want me to say?" the brunette croaked.
"Anything!"
"Emma," Regina sighed, as a teardrop escaped, "I'm terribly sick right now. I'm weak. My body aches. I have had just about enough of the game we've played. I'm fed up."
She didn't understand. "What game are you talking about?"
The brunette's eyes fluttered close. The rise and fall of her chest was spaced out more now.
"Hey," Emma took a few steps towards the bed. "I'll leave you to sleep. But just answer that one question."
"Go ahead and leave like you always do," Regina said suddenly, and it was like the entire room was slowly being drained of oxygen.
She felt it. Emma stood there, felt the knife sink in and she simply could not decipher the meaning behind the action taken to drive it into her.
"I never leave you, Regina," was all she could muster up to say. "Why would you say that to me?"
"You can be with me physically. But you're always with him mentally. Emotionally. Today you came and you couldn't help but mention him to me. It's almost as if he follows us everywhere we go. Without us being a separate entity."
"Regina –"
"I am a person. I have feelings, Emma," the brunette said in a trembling voice, although her eyes never opened. "And at times you remain so blind to the obvious, it poisoned me. And now I believe that I am dying from you being entirely oblivious to the magnitude of what you mean to me."
It took quite a long time for her to even conjure up a reply whilst staring at the older woman. For all she could do was stare.
It was like falling into a deep hole and all the while, her heart was like a burning sun, scorching her chest. Until she finally decided to call Regina's name and when she did, the brunette had already fallen asleep.
Emma stayed there for the entire afternoon.
After pacing the waiting room and then retreating to the cafeteria, she returned with a bagel and coffee. Settling onto the chair by the window, the blonde admired the brunette as she slept peacefully. But somehow, something was troubling them both. Something so buried deep down inside, it was hard to uproot.
After disposing of the cup and bag into the bin, it suddenly dawned upon her that the red envelope was still wedged between her and the red leather jacket. Fishing it out, she settled upon taking a deep breath before diving in between the lines. And by the time Emma was at the second sentence, her heart began to crack even more as the last words the brunette had uttered suddenly made enough sense to bring tears to her eyes.
The letter had been written some time ago. More than five years and just when they had returned from New York after chasing Henry down. Just after Robin had died.
I am beyond wrecked as I sit hovering above this paper with the mere intent to expound on my disastrous feelings. Feelings that have sprouted and grown into weeds because of your lack of flourishing in mutuality.
There were times when I could simply gaze upon your face and see my entire future spread out before me. Days when you would pass me by with a smile that cast a soft glow upon my damp world.
But today it is a bitter winter and it has been ravenous for a long time coming. To think that you must not have any knowledge thus far of how, like a thief, you have stolen my heart. Even though I gave it to Robin for safe keeping, you have already snatched the very essence of my soul into your steely arms. And with a grip so tight, I am left to suffocate under your spell.
Let me become familiar of your feelings if they are like mine in the coming days, Emma. Let me become aware of your touch and your love. Or else, if you do not feel the same, then let me go by just ignoring these words and passing us together as friends.
She reread it.
She read between the lines and savoured every word. Emma even turned the page over, hoping that new sentences would form in that neat, cursive handwriting. Hoping that, for once in her life, inert magic would formulate things that hadn't been said and things that hadn't been written down.
"You found it," Henry suddenly appeared by her shoulder, obviously slipping into the room when she had been deeply engrossed in the letter. He sighed. "Finally."
Of course she was entirely surprised. Emma lifted her chin to consider her son. "You knew about this?"
"I was the first person she told," he admitted coolly, wandering over to the brunette's bedside. Henry's gaze fell onto his mother's sleeping form and he appeared like a guardian. "She was so scared when she found out what all of it meant. To her, it was just a deep admiration for the person you ended up being. But then…"
Emma sat up, more alert than ever. At times, he seemed to possess the kind of knowledge way beyond his years.
"Something changed inside of her. She turned from vengeful into this soft, mushy person that I was so confused about. I thought it was because of losing Robin but then he was gone and it had been months and she still kept crying. She still kept…" he shrugged. Henry turned to face Emma, his expression entirely open, "trying to find herself somewhere else."
"She never told me," the blonde said softly.
He sighed. "She never told you because you were too busy chasing after Hook. As she said, she just wanted to see you happy. And if it was with him, then it was enough for her."
"But I was right there," Emma admitted, frowning. "We talked to each other."
"Mom couldn't talk to you about this. She could tell you about anything else. But she said she couldn't tell you about this. That's why she wrote a letter."
It was Emma's turn to sigh. "And look how much good that did. This is dated five years ago and it was buried beneath a pile of crap in my glove compartment. So much good it did for her to write to me."
Out of frustration, the blonde made an attempt to crumple up the letter but then, the harshness of her actions ceased further damage. Instead, she gazed at the page longingly, therefore suggesting to Henry that something was happening inside his mother's head. Her heart was sizzling with some kind of conflicting feeling.
"If it makes you feel any better, you don't have to talk about it."
She considered his face and frowned. "But we're already talking about it… Aren't we?"
"We are, but you're not saying a lot." Henry closed the distance between him and the window. Although it was closed to keep in the cool conditioned air, as he pressed his palms upon the glass, the heat still could be felt. It was almost refreshing. Knowing that something simple could separate two forces. Just as Hook had separated Emma from Regina and Robin had done the same.
"I'm too good at goodbyes…"
Henry's forehead creased in concern. "Don't say that, mom. It's too harsh."
"No," Emma's voice had settled into a softer tone. She sounded so bruised. "That's the last line. In her letter. She wrote…she's too good at goodbyes."
This, of course, forced him to allow their eyes to meet. He studied her face, highlighted the pain and chose to settle upon the wooden handle of the chair. Gently, Henry rubbed Emma's right shoulder, feeling the tension and detesting all of it.
"I just can't settle, knowing that all of this was going on inside her head. For so long, you know?"
He nodded.
"And all this time, I always thought that I was being the best kind of friend that I could manage. Not knowing that she wanted so much more from me. When she told me I was too good for Hook, she was saying so much more. I saw it in her eyes every time I showed up with him. The way the pain showed more than anything else. And I always wondered, what was going on inside her head. Like what did she know about him that she didn't want to tell me? And now I know."
"Well," he glanced at Regina lying upon the bed, and thought silently on the matter, "now you know. So what are you going to do about it?"
For a long time, the blonde said nothing, debating upon what could only be considered as an inner battle raging against the odds. It had been a definite conflict of interest. Knowing what was right and what was wrong and somehow being an absolute hypocrite for preaching about the grey areas.
She never lived in the grey areas with Regina. Never. At times, all that happened between them was flitting from black to white. Good or evil. The in-betweens were the parts where they felt the most pain. Look at when they managed to speak about each other's personal lives. When they would sit down and share a coffee or a sundae? All that passed was strain and tension as she opened up and Regina listened silently without judging. Or Regina opened up and Emma plainly appeared constipated.
Now all there was left, was the dangling truth upon the crumbling hill.
The rolling thunder in the distance signaled to her that a storm was coming. And those emerald eyes focused towards the window, only to find an orange sky with the setting sun. The storm was inside of her. The lightening searing through her heart was also sizzling the distance between them because it had been too long for self-denial. Too long.
"Let's go home," Henry tried to coax her away from the chair. Finally, Emma gave in, grabbed her jacket and after a long time caught gazing at the brunette's sleeping form, she slipped out of the room.
Many days passed with her staring into space and wandering through daydreams of better times. Times when she used to have all the opportunities to make things work between them. To know more about what Regina was feeling and to understand why.
Emma had never been with a woman before romantically. She hadn't strayed from the norm. Before Neal, there were so many men. Young ones, older ones. Drug addicts. The good ones. Women weren't an option. Never had been. And so, as she thought about it for a long time, the blonde realized that for all her life until now, no other woman had deeply affected her like Regina.
When the brunette cried, she died inside. When she gazed at her, those emerald eyes would divert as warmth crept up fair cheeks. Overflowing with joy when in danger, they rescued Regina. When they had so little alone time, Emma would freeze up and grow as rigid as ever, simply because she understood that what they felt for each other, and how they viewed each other was a lot more different than how anyone else made them feel.
She passed the days like a zombie, basically going in and leaving work on time. Her mother was growing worried from the state she was in. Her father gave her enough space to find herself for whatever battle was being fought. But Henry always came around. He spent his lunch time away from school with her. They talked about anything. They wandered to the Enchanted Forest or New York. But they never expounded on what was truly bothering her.
Until a week had gone by without her seeing Regina and for once in a long time, her son managed to unearth the truth without saying much.
"Simply put," he watched her dig into paperwork as usual, "we can't keep avoiding the things we are afraid of. So you taught me. Regina taught me the same. She always told me that I have to face my fears."
"It's easier said than done, kid." Emma had a high pile of complaints to rummage through before five. It was already two.
"The good things are never easy, mom."
"How did you become so wise?" she smiled at him, and reached out to ruffle his hair. "I'm so proud of the big kid you're turning into."
Although she never highlighted him as a young adult, he never complained. Being her baby was something that never bothered him because he understood how important it was for both of his mothers to still have an innocent love for the kid they shared.
"If you want it, and it's easy to get, then it's not worth it."
"Ain't that the truth." She avoided eye contact.
"So…what that means is the parts in our life that we find ourselves struggling, those parts make us who we are and they're the most important."
"Right."
"You're struggling now. Going through a rough patch," he stated rather than questioned. It was obvious at that point.
"I wouldn't say that I'm struggling," she admitted, wondering how to handle a complaint about a cat stealing fish from a resident's house. "I'm just feeling a lot more than I should be."
He was eighteen. But he wasn't naïve. "As Archie would say, you have to expel the hurt."
"That's the thing," Emma looked at him with worry in her eyes. "I'm not hurt. What I'm feeling isn't anything close to hurt. It's so much more."
"Love, you mean," he chose a direct approach, in pinpointing the exactness of the situation rather than circling around.
"Yeah," she admitted without holding back. When Emma realized what had been said, she swallowed her embarrassment and turned back to the paperwork. The words before her appeared blurry. Her mind couldn't focus. She was lost. "I mean, not exactly. But more like –"
"Mom, it's okay," he said softly, resting a hand upon hers. "Don't deny it. It's me. Not someone else here. You can tell me anything."
She sighed. "It's not like that Henry," she croaked. "Not like that at all. Hook and I are over and this happened just after I read that letter and he's watching me. Trying to see what I'll do or who I'll run to. And if he understands what this all means, he'll make trouble. So will mom and dad. You know better than me that your grandparents kind of like happily ever afters with a Princess and a Prince."
"I don't agree with that," he shook his head. "I can remember grandma squealing for joy when Ruby married Dorothy."
"That's hardly the point. I'm her daughter. This is different."
"How is this even remotely different when she's supposed to be thrilled to see you happy regardless? I don't think grandma will hate you for it. If you ask me, I think that she already knows."
"Huh?" she was confused.
"Regina has never been good at hiding how she feels about you. Whether she hated you or everything else, she was always well out in the open about it." He laughed to himself. "What's funny is that she always used to accuse you of looking at Hook lovingly when she did the same to you."
"I never saw…that."
"Of course you didn't." He was still smiling. "Back then you never understood how she felt about you. Only now you do. So now it's different. Maybe when she looked at you lovingly, you took it as admiration. Now will be different."
Emma sighed. "Oh it's different. She's been out of the hospital for what? Five days now? And not once has she come around or called. I called."
"Once," he mentioned.
"Two times," she countered. "And my call went straight to voicemail. It's obvious that she wants nothing to do with me anymore. I think I've snapped the rope. We're not ever going to be what we used to."
"Of course not," he sympathized but was brutally honest. "You're not as you were. You're now aware that you're in love with her too. Which only means one thing. When the two of you meet, it'll be one of two things. Either sparks fly or one of you call it quits after being stiffly stubborn and you walk away. Either way, I know that you'll find each other again."
He made them sound like her parents. True Love. Chasing after each other, finding each other and treasuring the moments spent together always.
Sunday came, with a flourishing kind of sunshine which wasn't harsh but warm and soothing to her skin. When the car's nose pointed towards the lapping waters by the docks, Emma turned off the engine and sat back silently, studying the scene without feeling entirely free from all battles being waged.
The pain that came with becoming undone was not the kind to dwell on for so long. Distance merely shattered her into tiny pieces until she became so fragile, at nights, those emerald eyes leaked tears too many. She had grown frustrated from being ignored, wondering what must have been done to enact this kind of torture between them. To sit there, staring at her phone and waiting on that call or text message.
Now, after a long time coming, the blonde realized that what she needed was a breath of fresh air to at least chase away some of the grime that welled up inside of her. And pushing the door open, she stepped into the afternoon sun then developed a stride which led purposely to the pier jutting into the water, its surface like a mirror because of great calm.
Not this time.
She thought about things silently as the little red radio was rested down. Emma sat on the very edge of the wooden structure and scanned the horizon. Not this time would those thoughts come sweeping in to bring tears. No. This was the time to let go. To free herself somehow. Because after so much time had passed, it was evident that the flower which had been blossoming from love needed to be cut and left to die.
Soft classic oldies drifted from the box. She tugged out a packet of gummy bears and tore it open. One by one, the blonde chewed slowly, savouring the flavours whilst her senses burst from alertness. And then, ever so often, the sound of the boats tied to the docks hitting the posts gave a kind of haunting feeling. The bells that tinkled. The lapping waters. All of it began to numb her aching heart.
And she closed her eyes.
When the sound of soft footsteps drew nearer, she welcomed it. Henry always knew where to find her. If it was her mother, then fine. She would digress. Her father too. But then, something happened to her heart that had begun to slowly drain away the hurt. Inwardly, Emma felt again, the prickling of feelings that had grown stronger over the course of two weeks. The fact of knowing that she had been falling and there was no one to catch her.
And now, she felt all of those things coming back and hated herself for slipping away again.
"I remember this song," Regina's voice startled her and the empty packet slipped away from Emma's fingers. The wind caught it. "Back when I first cast the curse, every day it would play on the radio. And I grew to hate it so much."
She was here. The blonde's eyes widened as the older woman lowered herself to sit merely two inches away. But then, after shifting a little, she grew so closer to Emma, their shoulders touched.
"Turn the radio up. For that sweet sound," Regina sang in a hoarse voice that always resonated with the blonde. She sounded so amazing, the younger woman was captivated. "Hold me close. Never let me go. Keep this feeling alive. Make me lose control."
They allowed the song to play on as silence settled between them. Within that time, she grew terribly self-conscious of her beating heart. The way it hammered away and weakened her instead of gathering composure to exert. Anger. Pain. Confusion. Whatever else there was. It should have been the time to speak. To shout. To cry. But she remained silent and frozen like a stone.
"If you don't want to talk to me. I get it," Regina croaked. "But I'm not leaving. I can't leave. I came here to say so many things to you because I cannot keep whatever is happening inside of me to myself anymore."
Emma sighed. She clipped the radio's antenna between her fingers and flicked it to one side warily. "Fine. Say what you have to say."
"I can feel your negative energy."
"Can you?" the blonde asked in frustration. Her tone was strengthened by so many emotions. "I mean, can you really feel the obvious? Because hell, this is way beyond what I wanted."
"And it's beyond what I wanted too," Regina said hoarsely, her brown eyes filling with tears. "I never wanted to feel this way about you. But it happened and now I can't move on. I can't forget."
"So for five fucking years," Emma began, turning a little but avoiding eye contact, "you basically tried to sweep me under the rug –"
"I wrote you a letter –"
"And you shoved it into my damn glove compartment instead of giving me it face to face. How the hell did you expect me to find it? My car is always in a mess. You must have known that the chances of me finding it were slim to none."
"I wanted to buy us time so that you wouldn't find it immediately but eventually," Regina was looking at her with so much pain in those eyes.
"Are you listening to yourself?" Emma wanted to know. "Buy us time? When we both know how life can change and end in a matter of seconds? Is that really what you wanted? To have me find that letter five years from then?"
"I can't rewind time and undo what was done," the brunette managed to say softly. A tear leaked from her eye. "But I can change how today happens."
"Just like you basically wasted two fucking weeks by giving me the silent treatment." She was so frustrated. "Damn you."
"Don't talk to me like that," Regina's voice trembled. "Don't use that language with me. I have always treated you with respect."
"You respected me within the course of fourteen days up to now by ignoring my calls, sending me straight to voicemail and keeping your door shut in my face?" Emma was so angry, she found it rather easy to look the older woman in her eyes. "What did I do to deserve that kind of treatment?"
"You chose him over me!" Regina cried all of a sudden. Her face contorted as she crumbled into more tears. Her shoulders shook. Her chest heaved uncontrollably and as much as it took to avoid the occurrence, the brunette exposed everything.
"I never knew how you felt about me," Emma returned, in a stiff tone. "Don't expect me to feel guilty because of the choice I made. And besides. You chased after Robin as if he was a shiny new toy in town. I watched you run around with him, attached to him at the hip all this time. Until he died, you were always swooning over him so don't throw that in my face as if I'm the only one who did the ultimate crime to cause you heartbreak."
"This is not about them. This is about us." Regina tried to take measured breaths.
"This has everything to do with them too. Look at us!" The blonde threw up her hands. "We're sitting here, buried eyeballs deep in the muck we created with guys we used. And I'm sorry but we can't ignore that."
"This wasn't Robin's fault. He came into this innocently."
"Go ahead and defend Robin. I respect the fact that you're doing it because he's dead," Emma said harshly. The brunette stared at her in shock. "But back when he was alive –"
"Stop it –" Regina warned.
"Back when he was alive," Swan continued, "you were all heart eyes for him. I was never in the damn equation. This is absurd. And you know it. Even if you had feelings for me back then, then why the hell would you bury it by lying under him in bed?"
"That is distasteful and disrespectful," the older woman warned.
"I'm just expressing how I feel. Just as you expressed enough of how you feel in the past few days you've been ignoring me."
"This was a bad idea," Regina's voice was unsteady as she weakly pushed herself up. The bottom of her red dress flapped around those knee high brown boots. "Goodbye, Miss Swan."
"Too good at goodbyes," Emma used the older woman's line in return. She couldn't breathe. Tears were streaming down her face now and it wasn't normal to feel as if the world was collapsing and the pain never stopped.
The brunette turned to face her.
"So you said, right?" the younger woman reminded her. "Every time when it gets too hard. Or it gets too painful. Or I start to cry. Or you start to cry. You just turn around and walk away from me." Emma was crying and shaking. "You told me in the hospital that I always leave. But it's not me that leaves. I've never left you. It's you."
Regina's hands fell to her sides. She appeared like a broken doll, as the wind tumbled her dark hair and those brown eyes melted into a colour like warm chocolate. She twisted her right boot and those red painted lips trembled.
"For fourteen days I've been living my life, suffering inside and trying to come to terms with the way you feel about me. After so long, you've been hiding and I sat there at my desk and I couldn't understand why you would do that because I thought we trusted each other. I thought that I could tell you anything and you told me everything. We promised to have no secrets. That's the only way this thing works between us. Whatever it used to be. But now I realize that what we always had was a lie and you basically built a wooden horse and hid yourself inside whilst talking to me. All this time you were in love with me and you hid it so well from me, I didn't even realize. And you know how that makes me feel?" She got onto her feet. Her bewildered look suggested that many things were happening. "It makes me feel angry at myself for never knowing. For never seeing. For not being so trusting and understanding that you felt that you had to lie."
"It was never easy," Regina managed to croak.
"It's not supposed to be easy."
"I wanted to see you happy. That's all I wanted. And you seemed happy with him."
"Is this how it's always going to be between us?" Emma wanted to know. "We both sit on the sidelines and wish the best for each other when we both know that deep down inside, we're the best for each other? Because every time we fall, we're the ones who pick each other back up. No one else does. I run after you. You run after me. It's predictable who's going to save me and I know that I will always save you. So why would we ever think different?"
"Emma –"
"Why would anyone else be the best for us when we're the best together?"
The brunette took one step closer to the blonde, as her chest heaved uncontrollably.
"Why did you leave fourteen days to pass, Regina?"
"Because I thought that it was enough time for you to forget about what I had said to you. In the hospital. And it was enough time for me to get over you."
"How long have you been in love with me?" Emma wanted to know. She was shaking.
"Since I first met you."
"And how many years ago was that?" The blonde asked.
Regina's parted lips quivered. "Eight years. Ago. Six months. Twelve days."
"And fourteen days made a difference?"
"It…didn't."
"Then come closer."
"What?" The brunette stared. Her lips remained parted.
Emma extended her arms. Although those fingers were numb, she maintained the gestures of welcoming what was evidently supposed to heal her.
"Come to me. I'm not asking. I'm actually begging. Because I've spent every last day in fatigue and pain. Trying to find myself again. And I realized that you're the answer to everything."
The brunette toed the ground. The wooden pier was damp from spray. Although she hesitated, every part of her was aching to rush forward. Little by little, she approached the younger woman, invading her personal space and planting her body between those arms. Those welcoming arms.
Gradually, after shuddering from the feel of warmth so close to her, Emma enveloped Regina into an embrace that happened slowly. Second by second they folded into each other, their eyes fluttering close and their hearts hammering away. Because she had dreamed about this moment constantly. For what had felt like forever, she had imagined it all. Only now to have this become an actual occurrence.
It was exhilarating.
It was like feeling the rest of your life source, the part that had faded away over the years, fueled by someone else. Emanating from within someone else. And completing her like nothing else.
She was not crumbling but becoming. The ground wasn't shaking anymore. But it was steady. And they hugged each other for what seemed like a long time, experiencing endless satisfaction by physical and emotional contact.
"Is this what it feels like to be in love? Truthfully in love?" Emma asked softly, caressing dark, soft tendrils and experiencing the utmost sweetness from a blissful moment. "Terribly disturbed and then ultimately settled?"
"Yes," Regina buried her face into the younger woman's neck and inhaled deeply.
"How do you know?" The blonde was curious. Had this feeling been as captivating before? With whom?
"Daniel," the brunette's voice was muffled.
It was immediately understandable. Emma nodded. Those emerald eyes took on a far off look. "You were thankful to feel this before. I never have."
"Breaking then becoming." Regina's heart settled down. "Then opening and feeling all of it."
"Totally."
"I'm glad that I'm the sinkhole you finally slipped into."
"And honestly, I don't ever want to climb out of it," Emma said with a chuckle. "It feels too good to be inside this bubble with you. It feels miraculous. What the hell. I feel reborn."
"And I feel alive again," Regina admitted, running her fingers gently through tangled blonde strands. She tucked a few behind the younger woman's ear and pressed a kiss onto Emma's nose. "I feel like I'm finally where I need to be."
"Can I kiss you?" Emma wondered out loud, those huge emerald eyes gazing intently into brown ones. "Or is it too soon?"
Surprisingly, the brunette laughed hoarsely. Cupped fingers caressed the blonde's face intently. And she nestled their cheeks together intimately. They had already turned into lovers.
"You never had to ask for permission," Regina said softly. "I was always waiting and will always be ready. For you to kiss me."
She wasn't prepared. But was anyone ever? To do the one thing that would initiate everything else leading to brighter and sunnier days?
Immediately, Emma pressed their lips together. Softly. Her eyes fluttered close as she felt softness. It was a gentle kiss. Nothing too forceful but happening slowly. Then whilst the waves crashed around them, and their fingers ran through disheveled tendrils, both of them deepened the kiss until they were growing breathless. But neither of them wanted to come up back for air.
After their lips broke apart, something changed between them.
No longer did those emerald eyes reflect merely a familiar acquaintance standing by her side. No. Now that distinct shade of emerald was dazed. Glassy. She considered the older woman with an intense gaze that lingered. Therefore only expecting mutuality with Regina, for her eyelashes fluttered slowly as the connection between them maintained its strength.
"Good things always come to those who wait," said Emma.
Regina smiled. "And there is a time and place for everything." She used cupped fingers to caress blushed cheeks.
"Mind if we hold hands and walk along the beach like two teenagers in love?" Emerald eyes twinkled. She extended a hand.
The brunette blushed deeply but entwined their fingers slowly. "Why not? It's never too late to capture the moment."
"Perhaps we can break off into a run after walking a bit," Emma suggested as they approached the steps to descend from the dock.
"In heels?" the older woman frowned. "Uh uh. I don't think so."
Swan laughed gaily.
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