Hey, guys. I had this awful writer's block for a really long time and then I read an awesome SQ story which inspired me to write. This is short and angsty - just my style. If you're looking for a cute fic, you're in the wrong place (just sayin'). And because I don't do happy, doesn't mean I don't love this couple with all my heart.
SWAN QUEEN WILL RULE THIS WORLD!
Emma Swan is aware patience is not actually a strength of hers (after having to live twenty-eight years in the same body, you eventually learn some stuff about yourself) but sometimes even she can surprise herself. Because never has the silence suffocated her that much, or the ticking of the clock beat the inside of her head with such intensity.
"You don't really want me to do this."
And now she wants to scream until her throat aches, until her lungs are crushed to dust from the absence of oxygen. She's so very fed up with people who think they know her better than she knows herself, who think they have the right of trying to read her mind.
No one has ever cared. No one can claim of knowing her.
Emma turns her head slowly, blonde locks rolling on the pillow, and green eyes meet dark brown.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."
The brunette sighs and sits up in the cramped uncomfortable bed, a pale hand stretching to rub her stiff back.
"Your bed will be the death of me, Miss Swan."
The blonde swallows thickly and wrinkles her nose – an useless attempt of trying to ease the stinging in the corners of her eyes. Change of the subject – meaning, her request won't be even considered.
"You know I hate it when you do that." She admits and she curses herself a hundred times for the slight trembling in her voice.
The other woman sighs again (do I annoy you so very much, Your Majesty?) and pushes herself up from the lumpy surface of the bed. Emma watches her hooking up her bra, gracefully slipping into her tight pastel grey skirt, putting on her fuck-me black stilettos. Determinedly. Without hesitation.
Without even thinking of staying.
"I don't want Henry to wake up in the middle of the night and not find me home." She offers eventually. Like this would justify her. Like it would make things less painful.
Emma doesn't dare speak again because she fears (no, she knows) her voice will betray her. And to fall apart in front of her – that's a weakness she'll never succumb to.
Who are you trying to delude? She can turn you into a sobbing mess within seconds and she knows it.
The quiet click of an opened and then closed again door, accompanied with a third sigh – a compensation for the lack of words, allows Emma to finally let the tears flow.
You will be the death of me, Regina.
The fire in her loins isn't even close to dying out yet when she feels her shift anxiously next to her. And the plea escapes from her mouth (for the millionth time) before she can stop it.
"Don't leave."
And the answer is the same (for the millionth time).
"You don't really want me to do this."
It's a never ending circle.
Let me take you home
To keep you safe and warm
Till the early dawn
Warms up to the sun
It would be so nice
If only for one night…
Emma's hand slams on the radio in helpless rage and she winces, reproaching herself (Forgive me, baby, you know I love you), because this – whatever this is – is not by any chance her poor bug's fault. She just hates how her life has managed to become a sappy B-movie where she would sit in her rattletrap of a car and listen to nauseating, a century old songs that describe her miserable existing a little too well.
She's letting her feelings take over and rule her. She's never going to learn, is she? It happened once, she followed him blindly and it was all wine and roses, until smack! – life gave her one hell of a slap. All because of love. And now it's happening again.
Maybe if Regina allowed herself to show any weaknesses, it would all be-
A unusually dark smirk graces Emma's lips. Weaknesses. Of course.
"You can't do this!"
"Watch me."
"He's everything I have."
"Too bad."
"I am going to ruin you!"
These words make Emma stop abruptly and turn around. The bitter smile twists her lips once again.
"You already ruined me, Regina. Can't you see that? Can't you see what you've made me become?"
The brunette stays there, lips slightly parted in an inaudible gasp, arms clutching her sides as if to prevent her from falling apart. And for the first time, it looks like the Mayor's demanding mouth has no words to say.
The door suddenly opens and a small figure with a messed from the wind hair enters.
"Emma?" Henry asks unbelievingly, excitement evident in his voice.
She turns to smile at him, trying to convince herself she's doing this for his own good. Because what's good for him is being with his real mother.
you'll never be the better parent for him…
And besides, he wants her, not Regina. He loves her.
you're separating mother and child…
"Hey, kid."
"What are you here for?"
He's my son. Mine.
"You."
Regina practically breaks before their eyes. Henry doesn't see. Emma persuades herself this is what she wants to see.
The boy sighs contently in his sleep and cuddles deeper into her embrace. Emma smiles at the sight of his peaceful little face.
A little piece of her.
He puckers slightly his lips and furrows an eyebrow. Probably something worrisome happening in his la la land. He looks just like his mother.
No, not me.
The perfect combination of her and Regina. Something she created. Something Regina modeled.
The original can't be hers. But the copy can. And that's good enough for Emma.
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
…
I feel like a monster.
The songs are If Only For One Night by Luther Vandross and Monster by Skillet.