A/N: A one(two?)-shot based on the magic eye-drop thing. I write a more sympathetic Snow than is canon.
I don't own any of the Once things.
Side Effects May Vary
Snow awoke with a start and a yelp.
The rocking of the ship.
The creaking of the timbers.
The lapping of the water.
...She was still in the bed that she'd fallen asleep in.
Her breathing began to ease as she reoriented herself.
Snow had had nightmares before, yes – she'd even been to the burning red room.
But she'd never experienced anything like that.
It had been horrific.
More memory than nightmare.
But it was not her memory, and it was not her nightmare.
She had been in one of the bedchambers of her old castle.
Her father had been there, above her.
She had been prey.
He had been the predator.
Snow screwed her eyes tightly shut, trying to banish the vestiges of that image from the recesses of her mind.
The scenario of the nightmare was shocking, wholly unexpected.
It would haunt her for years to come.
She buried her head in her hands, a dry sob doubling her over like a blow to the stomach at the sudden realization.
Regina.
…The memory was Regina's.
Beside her, Charming mumbled and rolled over, reaching for her.
Snow pulled away from his touch and eased herself out of the bed that they shared, anxious not to wake him.
He would ask her what the matter was.
And she could not tell him.
Her bare feet padded on the smooth wooden floor, and she pushed open the door and stepped out into the moonlight.
The deck of the Jolly Roger was still, all hands sleeping below deck.
But the lone figure at the prow of the ship was not a hand.
…She had been a Queen.
In hindsight, Snow probably should have put greater thought into deciding whether or not to approach her.
By the time it occurred to her to think it was too late anyway.
"Can't sleep?" Silence. "…You had a nightmare."
A statement, not a question.
Regina's shoulder rose and fell in a smooth rhythm; deep breaths intended to calm herself.
The younger woman went to reach out a hand to touch in comfort, but thought better of it and instead sat down next to her, careful to keep a little distant between the two of them.
"Before, when you had been… well, Gold gave us something to help find you. It seems to have had some lasting effects…"
From the corner of her eye she can see Regina's head tilt towards her. Not enough to look at her, but enough to show that she was listening.
"Like?"
"I had a dream…" Snow clears her throat awkwardly, "...actually, it was more like a memory. My father was there…"
She allows her voice to trail off – there was no need to rehash the gruesome details.
The woman beside her noticeably stiffens, and Snow cringes internally on her behalf.
Snow isn't quite sure what Regina is waiting for, what shoe she expects to drop.
Does this anxiety arise from the dream's beginnings? …or from its end?
"My father was there… but then Emma came charging in. To save you."
For a moment, Regina's only response is a short, sharp exhalation – an almost sob.
"She did." Her back straightens for a moment, and her eyes close, "…She has. Every night since the wraith."
The realization that strikes Snow then isn't excruciating.
…It's warm.
Gradual.
Gentle.
She recalls the flash of emotion she felt moments before waking.
The explosion of relief that erupted in her chest upon seeing her daughter kicking down the door.
"…You love her."
And everything makes sense.
It's a curious thing, this realization. She supposes that – once upon a time – it may have shocked her, she might even have thought it impossible, an illusion, a trick.
But here and now, seated at the prow of a pirate ship, it melts her a little.
The smile that curls her lips is soft, as is the light in her eyes.
Snow takes in the woman beside her, and what she sees is not a little heartbreaking.
This love is edged with sorrow, trimmed with fear and dread.
Gone is the confidence and hope of yesteryear.
This love is filled with trepidation instead.
Her heart clenching in her chest, Snow places her hand – palm up – out into the space between them both. Staring out into space, Regina slowly places her hand within that of her sometime nemesis.
And while her face is stolid, as though she would ignore what her hand is doing, her grip is tight.
Desperate.
"…How could I not?"
Snow returns the pressure on her hand, wanting earnestly to reassure, despite her growing awareness of just how far out her depth she is.
Were it another holding her hand, she might offer a platitude, an empty phrase to ease the silence.
But it is not another.
It is Regina.
As she continues to watch the other woman, her eyes screwed tight shut, as though to contain her vulnerability within them, the last remnants of her step-mother fall away and her heart aches with a sudden surge of protectiveness.
…All she sees is the sister she could have been.
Regina may feel that she has made herself impossibly, pathetically weak.
That she has lowered herself.
But Snow finally feels like an equal.
She wants to have a bonding moment, to tell Regina the way she wished things might have been.
She wants to tell her that she wished she could have met her mother.
Her mother would have loved Regina ...Adored her, even.
But now is not the time for expressing such sentiments.
That time may never arrive.
"I told you once that I wanted us to be family." Regina's eyes are on her now, wide and soulful and shining brightly and a little too much to bear. Snow turns her head and gazes out over the ocean. "…That's still true, Regina." However it happens. "Now, you need to get some rest." Snow stands and extends her other hand, pretending not to hear the whimper that escapes the other woman, "…I know a thing or two about keeping nightmares away."
A/N: I'm thinking of continuing this with a Swan Queen moment. Just cos I can. I like the idea of Snow figuring out Swan Queen.