and if only we were liars
"Emma, you really should get some sleep."
It's Rubys voice and she doesn't really know what the waitress is talking about. She's tired and she's not and maybe she just can't make up her freaking mind. She's thinking about Neal and Regina and Henry and the stuff she doesn't want to think about. It slips in and out of her consciousness and maybe they're the reason she hasn't slept in days.
"Seriously, you look like crap, girl."
It's a truth she won't let in. There are too many thoughts about the people she cares about and a part of her is willing to slip away. But she made promises and she's never been a coward before.
„I don't know what you're talking about", she mutters. Even if she did, an admission is costly, it's always been costly. It's just a fact that the both of them have to understand.
She can feel the other woman's eyes on her. It's an odd game. Pretending one thing while hiding another. It should be easy talking to Ruby. But there are some deep, dark, twisted things she's trying to hide from herself and the rest of the world.
"I have to go… Thanks for the hot cocoa."
She leaves, ignoring her son who just enters the diner with hope shining in his eyes and a young heart that has yet to be broken.
The pressure in her eyes is unfolding into a headache and she grits her teeth, making a turn and heading away to the station; the diner is too far, too open in a cluster of people that pass through these walls. She can't remember what she's angry about, if there's anything to be angry about and if this day, unlike the rest of the week, is going to be one that does not suck entirely.
It happens. It always just happens.
She reaches the door to the locker rooms, pressing her palms into the bar. It clicks and pops open, letting her squeeze through. It stays cocked for a few seconds and then rushes shut, slamming tightly behind her.
Her eyes squeeze shut and finally she's allowing herself to breathe.
Clasping both arms tightly around her knees she lowers her head, as her small frame is wracked by the force of soundless sobs. She tries to remain as calm as possible, but as she takes a deep breath it gets caught somewhere in her throat. Finally it escapes on the tail end of a soul-shattering wail; a horrible sound she didn't even known herself capable of making. The first is followed another, and another until she can't hear his voice anymore.
"I was just coming for you."
It's too quick to let her react. She sounds her entrance casually, her voice hitting her from the door next to her. There's amusement and cruelty. She still remembers what it's like to see her furious. Good, she thinks. But still… It's different too, when there's nothing left to prove. There's something about empowerment lingering in the air in between. It's not that it bothers her that sometimes she doesn't know. Or does know and doesn't let it show. Maybe it doesn't matter after all.
When it stops she is still there, lingering there like a constant reminder of her incapability.
Her eyes open and the Mayor is ignoring her, shifting and sitting next to her. Part of her wants to ask, why she's here but the last argument they got into is still ringing in Emma's head. Regina starts. She starts. Something stupid falls in between. She tries to pretend she's not angry anymore. It's a poor charade. Her breathing is still slow, hesitant, lighted by a sharp hiss.
The hand on her knee is warm and inviting, her eyes close again and it's easier swallowing the unshed tears.
Her eyes close again, her palms covering them from view. Her fingers are still trembling.
Not today. Not today. But of course, she's brought this to Regina. She should've known that she'd go and bring something back to her. Emma looks up at her then, wisps of hair falling and framing her cheeks. It's soft, itchy. Her ponytail's loosened, a casualty of a sudden rush this morning. She's still flushed from the short jog from Granny's to the station.
"You were just coming for me?" the skepticism falls, open, and her voice is a little too husky for her liking. "It's your fault…"
She snorts. "Right."
"You left me…", she says, tilting her head to the side.
Emma is looking away. Regina shifts, only moving closer. She's distracted and uncomfortable. She hates that she's faced with every measure of her regret, which both comes and goes, and no clue to figure out where she stands and wants to stand in the spectrum of everything. It brings back her words from when she came back for her the first time – I want to figure that out.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The question is asked half-hoping it will be ignored. Regina doesn't care she just wants the answer she's waiting for.
"I need closure." It slips slowly and she's sort of staring aimlessly off to the side and unwilling to really address this.
There's a change in her expression, wrestling with something between pain and intensity. She almost mistakes it for softness, for seeing what she wants to see. It's an old habit. Her throat is drying fast though, her tongue pressed between her teeth. She wants to lean forward but she doesn't.
Regina kisses her first.