When the morning came, I looked all around the room,
And I had no clue, what it was I did or didn't do.
Then all in a flash, my memory came back around, reached out my hands
And you were nowhere to be found, nowhere 'round.
- One Night Only (The March) by Trombone Shorty
Tell Me Everything (A Prologue of Sorts)
Regina's eyes open before she wakes up. They watch the light, a slow river stream of white dust sinking into peeling yellow wallpaper, pushing off, reflected back toward her. There's a weight settled comfortably over her waist, someone's breath on her neck, but her mind is still caught between slumber and the peeling vision before her. She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her bedroom wallpaper is shades of red and white, mahogany french doors, wide windows with apple tree branches and leaves brushed against the glass. She knows, too, that her pillows are made of velvet, the sheets wrapped around her body made of silk, and the mattress soft enough to sink into. It makes it hard to get up, but it's worth it.
This morning, the mattress is lumpy and the pillows crushed beneath her face smell stale with crumbs decorating the edges. Her mind struggles to comprehend, pull out of the dreamworld, her eyes slowly blinking, gazing at the peeling puce colored wallpaper.
I am in bed. Regina thinks, the breath on the back of her neck warm and moist, deep and even. But this is not my bedroom. She ponders the meaning of that resurfaced knowledge, drawing all the facts from it that she can. I am in someone else's bed. Thin white sheets crinkle around her body as she moves, she can feel last night's bruises on her wrists and breasts, and a few darkened fragments of memory flash brightly in her head as she sits up a little in bed and turns to look at the person beside her.
Oh god, no. Regina is too shocked to scream in horror, her jaw dropping, gaping at the sleeping form of the sheriff. Emma Swan's face is partially obstructed by the curtain of blonde curls tumbling into the twist of thin sheets, her thick blanket spilling onto the floor, fought off the bed sometime during the night. Her arm, pale like cream, drapes heavily over Regina's raised twisted body, dark eyes flared in panic at the sight of her rival. When did we - how did I - I - no! This did not - could not - no!
The evidence suddenly culminates, sudden scents and sensations rippling through the air, meant to assault her sensibilities. She smells the heavy musk of her own sex, can taste something bitter in her mouth, can feel the bruises and scars of nail marks, hickies decorating her neck and chest, and as she looks down she sees loose strands of golden hair curled across her skin.
Her vision sparks light, a desperate fury making her dizzy. Regina bows her head, gripping it in her hands, fighting off the sudden headache. I did not. I did not. I could not have. It doesn't make any sense, this defies logic. Cold, practical, rhythmic, predictable logic. The kind that keeps her guarded, keeps her smart, keeps her safe. I must have been drinking. But the only thing on her breath tastes of something stale, yet formerly sweet, apple juice boiled on her tongue, sour droplets drained, sucked out, dripping down the back of her throat. I must have been out of my mind. Yes, yes, clearly something in her mind was fractured, damaged.
Last night is a blur of color amidst the darkness. She can feel cold brick wall pressed against her back, her arms locked in a bruising hold, the mingled chorus of breathless laughter as she's pulled up the stairs, shoved into the warmth of blinding light, so bright it becomes darkness, falling backwards, her mouth pressed against, crushed beneath a potent, carnivorous force.
"...puddles..." The sheriff suddenly stirs, murmuring into the stale pillows until a snore overtakes her. Regina starts, nearly jumping out of bed, dark eyes widened, gazing with real fear at Emma Swan's form, but the woman remains asleep.
Have to go. I have to leave right now. I can't be here when she - oh god. Oh god - Henry! How could she have been so irresponsible to have done... whatever she did... and left Henry all alone last night? Did he eat dinner, or had she abandoned him even before then? At the very least he was alone now, completely defenseless, open to the maniacal plots of anyone in Storybrooke. I have to get to him. If anything ever happened to him... Dark eyes flash with sudden rage, Regina's gaze turning to direct its attention toward the sleeping sheriff beside her. I don't know what you did to me, but if Henry is hurt, then I'm holding you responsible.
Still anxious not to wake the sheriff up, Regina cradles the woman's wrist more gently than she cares to, lifting it slowly up and quickly sidling from beneath the sheets, turning around to swing her legs off the bed, landing on the cold floor. Cold sharp tingles of thrill shoot up her skin, she bites her lip to keep from gasping. Still gently, she lets the sheriff's arm fall limp back onto the mattress, a slight creak as she stands, her weight departing, and as the thin, crisp sheets fall away she realizes she's fully naked, brown nipples stiffening from the cold. Where are my clothes?
Every detail revealed to her makes the whole baffling situation more and more real, but Regina tries her best to ignore the items in the sheriff's room, only looking for her own articles of clothing. Her heels and purple lace underwear she finds just beneath the bed, along with a small box of cigarettes and a lighter. She better not be smoking near Henry. Her nose wrinkles at the idea of such a filthy habit, and yet the sudden image of the sheriff reclining backwards in a chair, inhaling smoke and exhaling it in a sweet puff, her pale lips curving as she sends the smoke toward Regina's face... Clothes. Where are the rest of my clothes?
She does her best to stay quiet, and it seems the sheriff is a deep sleeper, something Regina finds surprising. What if I finally allowed Henry to sleep over, only to find you overslept while he was up watching television, or making prank phone calls or ran away? What if a burglar broke in and stole Henry? You wouldn't even know it, you incompetent fool! She grinds her teeth together, stifling incoherent shouts and accusations she wants to lash like a whip against the sheriff's sleeping form, cream skin revealed in patches where the sheets twist and divide.
Regina's eyes linger on a small smudge on the sheriff's neck, recognizing a shade of vibrant plum lipstick that decorate her own lips. Her eyes drift down the sheriff's back, Regina's hands twitching with the sudden familiar feel of soft, muscled skin beneath her palms. Down to the feet where Regina's eyes rest and something flares at the forefront of her mind. The image of her lips bearing down, pressed against pale feet, her tongue darting out, heated and wet, moist around a small toe as she begins to suck...
Oh my god. Regina stumbles out of the memory, turning with renewed desperation to seek her clothes. She finds a shirt and buttons it up, too impatient to seek her bra, the navy blue material teasing her breasts. She looks around for either a skirt or slacks, unable to remember what it was she wore last night, when suddenly there's a loud creak of another door, and Regina stiffens, quiet and still, unmoving, listening as someone else awakens and walks through the apartment.
God dammit! God dammit! Regina can't think about this, can't take the time to rationalize and make excuses for the perverted insanity that has apparently taken place. To know that her miserable, worthless stepdaughter was only feet away from the atrocity Regina engaged in with her stepdaughter's daughter was... Clothes. I have to put on clothes.
Out of patience, desperate to go, Regina creeps toward the sheriff's drawers, crouching at the bottom, pulling one open and drawing out dark blue jeans. The sheriff is a little taller, and Regina struggles as she pulls the jeans on, rolling up the cuffs a few times. The sheriff is also slightly thinner, and Regina winces as she walks, the seam cutting into her hips. She discovers another hickey on her inner thigh as she moves, the jeans too tight and too loose in alternative places.
Oh god, Henry, I'm almost out of this hell. Please be all right. The sheriff doesn't have a clock in her room and at some point during the night Regina had lost her watch. She has no idea if Henry should have already woken up. She listens for a moment for the familiar tick tick but it's suddenly drowned out by the rush of water racing through the air.
Shower! Regina steps lightly, the heels tapping on the floor, pressing her ear to the bedroom door, hesitantly curling her fingers around the knob, gently creaking it open, peeking out into what little she can see of the kitchen and living room. She must be in the shower. This is my chance.
Regina takes a breath, glancing back at the still sleeping form of Sheriff Swan, steels her nerves, opens the door wider, and then makes a break for it. The wooden front door rushes her vision, her senses are enflamed, she reaches forward, grasping for freedom, ready to hurl the nightmare confusion behind her.
"Oh!"
Regina crashes into the door, spinning, throwing herself off-balance as she skids on stray carpet into the wood, her shoulder receiving the brunt of the smash, turning with wild eyes toward Mary Margaret who's just exited the bathroom.
For a moment there's silence as each woman stares at the other. There's no mirror but Regina can feel the sweat painting her honey brown skin, the short slightly curled strands of dark hair mussed and sticking out in several different directions, her lips parted, vibrant plum smudged against her chin, just beneath her nose, painted over the small thin scar slit into her lip.
It takes her a moment to straighten up, lips spreading into a cold, cordial smile, gaining confidence from the sight of Mary Margaret clad in baby blue pajamas patterned by brown teddybears hugging pink hearts.
"Good morning." It is the first time she speaks out loud, and Regina is slightly startled by the hoarse sound that emits itself from her throat.
"Regina." Mary Margaret speaks her name with unrestrained surprise, dark green eyes wide and somewhat frightened, retracing the mayor's path toward the bedroom of her roommate and best friend. "I - what are you...?"
"I had to pick something up of Henry's." Regina speaks quickly, still smiling, white teeth bright against tanned skin. "He left a school book here a few nights ago. Don't worry, he'll be prepared for class when you see him later today, of course." She turns toward the door, ignoring the dull ache of pain in her arm.
"But, how did you get in?"
"Miss Swan was nice enough to leave a key beneath the welcoming matt after I called her last night." Regina twists the knob, opening the door, already pivoting on her heel as she turns to leave.
"But I saw you leave her room!"
"Yes." Regina's smile strains, glancing over her shoulder at Mary Margaret, an impatient glare peaking through the politeness. "That's where she had his book. I did my best not to disturb her rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I should get back to my son. Have a very nice morning, Miss Blanchard."
The door closes with a bang and Mary Margaret is left with the sound of retreating foot steps, heels rushing down wooden stairs until they fade away, and the sound of still running water. Turning from the door, she walks slowly back to the bathroom, reaching into the steam to grasp the metal knob, twisting until the water dies down again.
Standing very still for a moment, Mary Margaret lifts her gaze to the mirror, the glass covered in a thin coat of steam, waiting for the tumbling hoard of thoughts to fall through the sky, crash on land, start to assemble themselves into logical reason.
Emma gave the mayor a key... to our apartment... allowed Regina to go into her room... while she was sleeping. Mary Margaret tries to give the mayor the benefit of the doubt, searching her memory for any hint of Emma possibly alerting her to the fact that the mayor would be visiting in the morning. I have been out later and later, maybe she didn't have time to tell me. Maybe I was distracted. A smile teases her lips at the thought of David, but then a frown slips across her face, forcing herself to focus. I would have remembered though, wouldn't I have? And she would have told me. She definitely would have told me.
It would have been an odd thing to lie about though. After all, there was no other reason for Regina to have come to the apartment so early. The story itself was not so implausible. Mary Margaret shakes her head, brushing away the shower curtain and leaning forward to twist the knobs again, cold water beginning to trickle out. I'm being as silly as Henry is, thinking she's as bad as the evil queen in his - his - the book! Regina didn't have a book with her. And for that matter, Henry doesn't even have school today. Mary Margaret's eyes grow wide, staring at the checkered black and white tiles that construct the bathroom. If she didn't go into Emma's room for a book, then she went to... oh god, no.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret rushes from the bathroom, leaping instinctively over the couch, landing on her feet, a surge of adrenaline blasting fireworks into her bloodstream, a raging fear striking her heart, slamming her roommate's door open. "EMMA!"
In the half second it takes for Emma to jerk awake, Mary Margaret has already registered the tousled sheets and blankets, a drawer opened, clothing mussed up, slight dents in the walls, objects strewn and seemingly knocked off, and Emma's partly buried form, a pillow halfway on her face.
"GOD, NO! EMMA!" A desperate sob rips itself from Mary Margaret's throat, and she collapses to her knees, kneeling by the bed, dark green eyes drowned in tears, spilling down her flushed cheeks, her body shaking, wracked with grief. She doesn't notice her roommate's bleary eyed gaze as she coughs and straightens up in bed, blinking in alarm at the sight of Mary Margaret wailing at her bedside.
"Oh my god, what's happened?" Emma shakes Mary Margaret's shoulder and leaps back in bed as Mary Margaret shrieks in fear, tumbling back on the hard, cold floor.
"YOU'RE ALIVE!"
"Of course I'm - " Emma chokes in surprise as Mary Margaret shoots up, still sobbing, and grabs Emma in a hard, unrelenting squeeze.
"Oh my god. Oh my god." Mary Margaret suddenly laughs, pulling away, shifting her body so that she sits on the edge of the bed. "Oh my, I feel so silly." Sniffing, she smiles through the last torrent of tears, her face sticky with salt, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, her body boiling with not fully explained emotion.
Emma stares at her, brow creased, hesitantly reaching for Mary Margaret's hand, patting it awkwardly. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Emma has the talent of making harsh words sound caring and Mary Margaret laughs again at her words.
"I saw Regina leaving your room and I just thought - oh, I know it's so stupid, but I didn't see her with a book so I thought she had lied when she said you let her in, and then I couldn't understand why else she'd be here." Mary Margaret closes her eyes, shaking her head, her face flushed from adrenaline, rosy from humiliation. "When I saw you lying like that I just thought - oh, I feel so stupid."
Emma blinks. "What book?"
"The book Henry left."
Emma blinks again. "What are you talking about?"
"The book that you said Regina could - " Mary Margaret pauses, searching Emma's face for recognition, suddenly noticing smeared plum stains on the corner of her lips, her jaw, streaked down her neck. " - could pick..." Emma is wearing a tank top, but the sheets twist around her waist and Mary Margaret is stricken with the idea that Emma might not be wearing anything else underneath. "...um, why was Regina here, Emma?"
"Well," Emma shifts. "I invited her in last night."
"Right." Mary Margaret nods, as if that makes sense to her. And for a moment it does, but then she remembers who Regina is and who Emma is. "And why did you do that?"
"Because, I wanted to - well, we wanted to..."
"You wanted to...?"
"Sleep together."
"Right." Mary Margaret nods again. "Okay, right." Dark green eyes consider for a moment the peeling yellow wallpaper, remembering David's offer to help renovate it to her liking. Between teaching, volunteering at the hospital, and carrying on a quasi-affair, it's hard to manage all the extra things in her life.
"Mary Margaret?" Emma waves her hand across her roommate's line of vision, snapping her fingers twice.
"Oh, sorry!" Mary Margaret blushes and smiles, nodding her head again. "I think I spaced out for a moment there. You invited Regina in last night to...?"
"We slept with each other last night."
"Right." Another nod. "Of course you did. That makes a lot of sense, and of course I have no judgment to place, but I hope you don't mind me asking if you are - you know - OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Mary Margaret leans forward, gripping Emma's arms, green eyes flared up in panicked concern.
"Ow." Emma says pointedly, wincing as she pulls away, but Mary Margaret's white knuckled grip is surprisingly strong. "I know it must seem a little weird but really this is no big deal."
"No big deal?!" Mary Margaret gapes at her. "You're having an affair with the mayor!"
Emma laughs, submitting to her best friend's hold. "This was a one time thing, believe me. No affair, no scandal, no consequences."
"Emma, this is Regina Mills we are talking about! There are always consequences."
"Not this time." Emma gently pries Mary Margaret's fingers off her arms, gripping the sheets and dragging them off the bed as she wraps them more tightly around her waist, proving Mary Margaret's previous fear. "She ran out, right? Neither one of us wants this to go any further."
"So this was just - just a mistake." Mary Margaret thinks of David, immediately deciding to back off of Emma. "I guess we're all entitled to that, then."
"No, not a mistake really." Emma crouches down on the floor, peeking through dust for her underwear and clothes. "We wanted each other last night and we went for it. No one got hurt, and it won't happen again."
"Well," Mary Margaret hesitates, unable not to press just a little further. "If you don't think it was a mistake then why are you so sure you won't repeat it?"
Emma pauses beneath the bed, remembering the desperate whine of Regina's breath tickling her ear, honey brown legs raised on either side of her body, heated thighs pressed painfully tight against Emma's head, drowning her in apple cinnamon scents, the salt flood of the mayor's climax gushing down her throat. "She was just in a really bad place last night, and maybe so was I. We needed anybody and we were there and it worked. Last night at least. But it's something we both know won't happen again."
"Oh." Mary Margaret averts her eyes as Emma starts to dress. "But, I don't get it. Why were you two together last night in the first place? When did you two even get close enough to even think about being comfortable doing what... you two were doing?"
"It's a long story."
"Oh, please tell it to me."
"Don't you have that shift at the hospital today?"
Mary Margaret looks down at her teddy bear pajamas, one hand rising to her still unwashed hair. "Okay, I'll hop into the shower, get dressed, and we'll walk to the hospital together. You can tell me the whole thing on the way."
They leave the apartment together, Mary Margaret brimming with unabashed curiosity, careful to remind herself not to judge Emma's tastes when she herself is seeing a married man. Still, David has never gone out of his way to hurt her (beyond leading her to believe he had no feelings for Katherine until he remembered that he did, then leading her to believe he would finally tell Katherine he was leaving her until he decided that he couldn't) like the mayor constantly tries to hurt Emma. The relationship, even as nonexistent as Emma claims it to be, makes no sense to Mary Margaret. There is also something deep rooted inside her heart, as unexplained as her sudden startling grief concerning Emma's possible death, that tells her there is something almost... perverted in the sudden interaction between Emma and Regina.
Am I homophobic? She asks herself, walking out into the cold with Emma, the door locking behind them. No... I loved Will & Grace. She shakes her head, figuring the strange sense of perversity has to do with her own intense fear and mutual dislike of Regina Mills.
"So?" She bounces a little on her feet, shallow puddles from last night's rain splashing her long coat, hugging Emma's arm to her own as they walk. "Tell me everything."