Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I just simply borrow and play with them to my desire. I would like to own Regina, though. That'd be nice.
Note: I've written Swan Queen before, this is just the first I've put on this site. There are 4 chapters to this as it's halfway written and thoroughly planned out. I thank my beta, Sophie, for being her lovely and helpful self (as usual). And to those reading this, I hope do you enjoy and any kind words would be appreciated!
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"Seriously?" Emma's head tilts at what's held in front of her, her gaze then lifting to its holder with incredulity because he really can't be serious.
"'Fraid I am." Mr. Gol— Rumpelstiltskin replies.
It's kind of funny, Emma thinks, how naïve the people of the other world are sometimes. She's hung plenty of these dreamcatchers above her bedside in the foster homes she's been to, hoping with each night she falls asleep that it would just take away her dreams; take away the recurring abandonment each slumber haunted her with. That hope faded each morning she awoke, the loneliness that surrounded her colder than that of winter.
"It's a dreamcatcher." Emma emphasizes.
"And with magic," Oh, right. The magic thing. Rumpelstiltskin limps over to Snow and James then, gliding the dreamcatcher over their heads, "that's exactly what it does. Take a look."
He hands it over to Emma — dangles it, really that even Pongo sits obediently. Emma stares at it first, then shifts her gaze over to her 'parents', the blush on Snow's cheeks reddening with each moment that passes while James won't even look her in the eye.
"I'd rather not." Emma declines. Seeing that with her own eyes the other morning had been scarring enough to last her a lifetime, and then some.
Rumpelstiltskin shrugs as he tries to hide the smirk on his face, shaking the memory away as he walks over to Pongo. "Shall we?"
"I know Regina didn't do it."
"Why not ask Pongo to give your parents over here some peace, dearie?"
Emma doesn't let up. "This dreamcatcher, will I be able to do that on my own?" Her eyes flick down to her chest and he understands. "Since I... you know."
"Yes." Rumpelstiltskin answers.
She takes it from him without so much as a warning and gestures around her. "To Regina, then."
"Emma." James' voice stops her in place and god, they're only a handful of years apart so why does she still cringe at his reinforcement? "Who's word do you trust? Red's or Regina's?"
"Not Pongo's." Emma looks at both her parents and it's sad, really; for two people who've experienced life in different worlds, everything continues to be black and white.
Emma doesn't know why she's so invested in proving Regina's innocence. A part of this is due to her job; as savior and sheriff, she knows that much.
She also knows this is because of Henry. If it weren't for him the Queen wouldn't have thawed, wouldn't have become Regina Mills, the single mom and mayor of this cursed town in Maine and that—
The curse is the very reason why she grew up the way she did, and though Emma would never wish it upon anybody else, her experiences are something she'd never swap for a throne. Because as messed up as her life's been, she likes who she is; she likes being Emma Swan and she'd rather be broken than be unmarred, in her own bubble of a castle where respect was given and not earned.
Another part of her knows that it's because she owes Regina, in a sense. How she'd given birth to such an amazing kid, Emma's still in awe. She remembers holding him the first (and what she thought would be the only) time, the way his small head fit against the crook of her arm in a manner she can't call anything else but perfect. Yet what bubbled inside her the very moment he looked into her eyes frightened her, and it was then Emma had sent him away, knowing that if his flesh spent another second against hers, her mind would be changed in an instant. It was Regina who continued to hold him, feed him and rock him until he fell asleep. She tended to his cuts and kissed his bruises, clothed him and spoiled him and loved him. It was Regina who raised him, the conviction she instilled in Henry becoming her very own downfall.
"Emma!" This time Snow yells it.
Then there's her parents. She's slammed her Bug shut and is past Regina's gate when they pull up in their car. She hears her name being called again; this is straight up rebellion, and Regina's pretty much the equivalent to that boy her parents would've told her to stay away from. If they, you know, had actually been there. Making up for lost time, Emma justifies.
But when she gets to Regina's door and knocks with the dreamcatcher in hand, something begins to slither its way up her spine, tarnishing her ever-so-brave stance. Emma then feels it in her fingers; they tingle and they itch and it's only when the door opens to a conflicted greeting does the realization dawn.
She's doing this for Regina. Not because it's her job, a favour owed or to get a kick out of defying her parents— it's for Regina and there's no truer reason than that.
"I've given my statement already and until you have further evidence other than an unreliable source, I suggest—"
"I have this." Emma holds up the dreamcatcher.
Regina's eyes flicker with recognition at the what she holds, and just as quickly as the hope rises it falls. "No."
Emma scowls. "Wha— Regina, this thing is what's gonna stop the town from burning down your house. If we can just see what you were doing last night, we can prove your innocence." Snow and James have caught up now. She can feel them burning holes into Regina, standing on either side of her like she needs the protection.
(She doesn't)
"That only works with magic, and I'm afraid your mother and father wouldn't trust mine. You know how dark magic is. Besides, I promised Henry—"
"I can do it." Emma offers too eagerly, and she restrains her voice from rising with the fluttering in her chest.
"You," Regina begins, eyes narrowing before they open wide with realization, "you have magic?"
"Yes, she does." James crosses his arms over his chest like a proud father and it makes Emma's stomach churn. Two days reunited and they're already doing too good of a job at parenting, overwhelming pride and all.
"Your mother tried to take her heart." Snow simply says, and the lack of emotion in it makes Emma turn to her. "Cora tried, but she couldn't get it."
She turns back to Regina, whose eyes are burning with rage and another emotion that Emma can't place. It's triggered something— set something off in Regina that turns the dial up on her hostility.
"Regina," Emma tries calling the woman back into their world, this crazy mix between magic and despair.
"No." Regina says again. This time her answer is directed at Snow. "Though you can confine my body to this finite space, you cannot pull my thoughts and look at what they are. That is something I choose to keep confined and quite frankly, what you're asking for is far too invasive." Had Emma's eyes not been wide with confusion from the turn of conversation, she's sure she would have missed it; the brief sincerity Regina blinks her way before slamming the door shut.
"We tried to warn you, Emma." The consolation doesn't quite register; it's like the wind, just brushing against her ear as she walks against it to her Bug.
She returns later in the day. Emma knows Regina won't answer the door so, instead, just hops over the little fence to her backyard. "Why don't you want this?" She says, startling Regina who's now tending to her apple tree.
She plucks off a dead fruit. "I don't need your help."
"Henry needs you to be innocent." It's kind of a low blow, using the kid to get Regina to do what she wants, but it works. Regina stops for a moment, tilting her head slightly in Emma's direction before turning her way completely.
"I didn't kill Archie." She says it like Henry would say, the curse is real, and it almost makes Emma smile. It's the truth, she knows.
"Then let me do this." The dreamcatcher dangles between them. When Regina looks down at it — when she lets her gaze falter and her brows furrow at the sight — Emma finally places that lost emotion: fear. "It, it won't hurt." She offers, but Regina just scoffs at that, in a defeated kind of way that makes something inside Emma hurt.
"But what you see will."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Regina stays silent for more moments than she can count. "Where are your parents?"
"At the station."
Emma takes a few steps forward as Regina does the same, the anxiety knit between her brows tracing its way down to her lips. "This is for your eyes only. This is the truth and if I so much see any more pity in your eyes—"
"Regina—"
"I'm not blind. I know what you really think when you're kind to me, Emma. I know you pity me. I know this," her finger gestures between them, "is for Henry. So get it over with, prove me innocent and run back to your little family."
Regina drops the basket of dead fruit and lifts her chin up high, closing her eyes like it's an execution and Emma's holding the weapon. Then, when she holds the dreamcatcher over her — trailing it down her shoulder and to the tips of her fingers — it kind of stuns Emma, how beautiful Regina is. So she goes over again, giving herself more time to watch the rise and fall of Regina's chest and the twitch in her lips when the magic starts to gather.
"Okay." Emma says, not really sure how to tell Regina to open her eyes.
She takes the dreamcatcher by both hands and stares into it. Emma squints her eyes, furrows her brows and tries with all her might to produce an image but nothing happens. Really? She's clutching at it now, lips frowning as her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
"I can't. I thought I could do it, I mean, I know I can but—"
Regina's hand wraps around her wrist. It's neither loose nor tight, the fingers drumming once against her pulse in a way that makes her feel safe. She raises Emma's hands up again. "Focus." She instructs. "Focus on that." Regina lets go of her wrist to point at a particular spot, where the thread all gathers and the light it glows with is most bright.
Emma tries again; she puts all her energy and focus into that one spot. It takes a few moments, but the light the dreamcatcher glows with finally forms into a wave, into an image. And then it's black. For a frustratingly long time, all Emma sees is black and just as she's about to give in to her frustrations and give up with this stupid thing, she sees it.
Two hands pull away the darkness. They're stained with something black and when the hands rise back up, she sees the mascara. A thumb wipes just under the wooden frame of the dreamcatcher. The fingers lift up and they're marked black too, the dark substance seeping into the distinct lines of skin on a thumb. Then the hands are gone and the image becomes a reflection of Regina in a mirror. Oh. Emma tries to hold her focus, tries to continue to watch but that pain in her throbs unbearably at the sight. She watches until she can't. Not because her magic is weak, but because her heart is; it drums with a pain she can't quite understand, but she's familiar with it. Her last view is of Regina cupping her mouth with a hand, the image now blurry as tears fall from the dark eyes without pause.
Then the image fades and she's looking at grass.
It takes Emma a few moments to gather her energy. She can feel the tips of her fingers tingle at the current of her magic, and she drops the dreamcatcher in an attempt to make it subside. But her fingers still tingle, and it isn't until Emma feels the emotion gathering behind her eyes that the word falls from her lips. "I'm," she begins, not really knowing where she's going with her thought. Emma looks at Regina and it's the moment their eyes lock that she realizes this mistake.
"Innocent?" Regina supplies. Her jaw is locked and her eyes are lined with a wetness so faint that Emma almost misses it.
"I'm sorry." She says, because she is. Her gaze rips away from Regina's at the apology.
"I take it you understand why I'd rather not have Snow or James around to see that."
Emma nods. She takes a few breaths before saying, "I'm sorry," again.
Regina's eyes look glossier now. "If you were in a room full with people who wanted nothing more from you than death, you'd be doing the same."
Emma hugs her then. It's all she can think to do and another apology would probably just annoy the hell out of Regina. She feels her squirm under the embrace, trying push her way out of it, but Emma just holds on tighter. Regina isn't the only one to be taken by surprise; she doesn't know why she's reacted this way, either. Emma isn't the hugging type (she can even count the times she's hugged Henry).
But this is something her body just simply did; an action done with the instinct Emma's always trusted. And just when the smallest bit of doubt begins to creep its way in, she feels Regina hug back. It feels... familiar, the arms wrapping around her in a way that makes her feel right, like the only thing they were meant to do was this. Then a breath is released against her and that's when Emma feels it.
Defeat.
"I'm sorry." Emma whispers it this time, and she hopes that Regina doesn't feel the tear that's just fallen on her blazer. "I'm sorry." She doesn't know what it's for, but she feels it — so strongly that she repeats it until Regina crumbles in her hold.