Set right after 4x19 Lily
She slowly pushed the door closed with a soft click, her fingertips numb against the smooth surface of the white, polished wood, her other hand barely registering the harsh contrast between her warm hand and the cold brass handle. She stood still there for a few minutes, body rigid, leaning a little on her arms with her hands still against the door. She could feel a torrent of emotions swirling in her chest, in her heart and mind, and it was so strange, just standing there, feeling her heart squeeze as if it was physical pain, her throat tighten, eyes fixed on the white door, unable to actually focus on her emotions, and feel them. It was too much, and her breathing was so steady, because she couldn't seem to expand her lungs too much without it hurting. She knew she was a bow strung tight, and anything would set her off. She didn't want to breathe too deeply; it threatened to break the bizarre calm. So she focused on breathing, shallow breaths, in and out, in and out, and stepped back from the door.
Her heeled boots clicked loudly against the shiny floor, echoing in the big empty mansion as she very, very slowly stepped back from the door and into the house, each slow, shaky step accompanied by an exhale, an inhale, shallow, each breath shorter than the next, and she knew she wouldn't last long. Up the few steps to the dining room, not really caring where she was headed, just keep moving… She tried her hardest to push away the images swirling in her head, of him standing between her and another woman and yelling at her, telling her that- No, she cut off the memory before it became full in her mind's eye. But the adrenaline and the rush of this crazy day had worn off, the pain in her chest was becoming more acute, like spasms that threatened to bend her over in pain, and she tried to breathe through it, through the tears pooling in her eyes, didn't dare close her eyes lest they spilled over. Exhale, inhale, too shallow.
She stopped though, placing her keys on the dining room table without even realizing what she was doing, her hand froze as she let them go. And she panicked, knowing the damn was going to break. What was she thinking turning down Henry's request to come home and telling him to stay one more night with the Charmings? She should have taken up Emma on her offer to accompany her to bring Lily to Mal, she should have gone to check on Belle and made sure she hadn't said anything about her heart and their deal. Anything to keep herself busy and avoid this moment, this happening right now where she was starting to hyperventilate and the tears had overflowed and her knees were giving out and she had no control as she doubled over, barely catching herself when she fell to her knees as agony worse than any physical pain rippled through her, and she opened her mouth to scream.
But on her knees, in the dinning room of her home, one hand on the floor and the other pressed to her chest, she couldn't utter a sound. It was a silent torture, as images of him protecting his 'wife' swirled before her eyes, his harsh words echoed in her ears and his blue eyes rejecting her as he moved closer to her sister. And she didn't even matter. And finally she screamed, a full pained cry, because it didn't matter what Zelena had done, it didn't matter what tricks she had played. He, all by himself, wholeheartedly, had once again, chosen a dead woman over her.
And she screamed, cried out and clawed at her chest, clawed at the cold floor, screamed and cried and sobbed, pushed the table besides her in rage and made the vase topple over from the table and shatter into a million pieces, and it didn't matter, she knew it did but right now it didn't, he chose her again, and she had been so stupid, holding on to hope, while he was fucking another woman, and she screamed louder as imaginings of him on top of her sister flashed in her mind, her magic relishing in her rage and anguish and unleashing, and she saw him loving her and touching her like he once did her, and all she heard was her blood rushing in her ears, not the explosion and glass shattering. He's been making a happy family while she's been looking at a taped together picture of what he'd given her as hope for them. And she cried louder, enraged with herself, not registering the strain to her throat and warmth spread in her veins as fire consumed her and she's been such a fool, she's been so stupid here looking for a way, for something, for anything, losing sleep over memories of them together, holding out, holding on, and he's been fucking another woman. And she screamed a tormented cry, long and loud and anguished and it faded it out into broken sobs, and she was warm, hot and her tortured sobs wouldn't let her breathe, it was becoming difficult to breathe, and she coughed, coughed and coughed and her rage disappeared as dread spread through her because she couldn't catch her breath and her vision cleared, and everything was in shades of orange and yellow and burning red and she couldn't breathe because of the smoke.
Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and she was snapped out of her daze even though she couldn't breathe, and the hand was shaking her and someone was calling her name and trying to pull her to her feet just as her magic finally reeled back into herself, her rage gone once she realized what was happening and the fire was gone, but she was dizzy, coughing and not taking in any air, the smoke strong on the objects charred by the fire and she was lightheaded, being carried in someone's arms and when fresh air hit her lungs, she almost chocked on it with relief, gasping and failing to get her breathing back under control.
She managed, eventually, and finally focused on the person in front of her who had guided her breathing until she had taken back control of her basic instincts. She looked away, embarrassed, avoiding eye contact and realized she was sitting outside on her front door steps, and he was crouched in front of her where he'd been holding her chin towards him a moment ago trying to get her to breathe.
"What are you doing here?" She snapped, feeling too exposed and vulnerable, and weak, tired, exhausted, and her voice was sore, her throat burned. She could feel the tear tracks on her face, sticky and dry. Her eyes burned, they were surely red, and she was in desperate need of a tissue, sniffing back snot in the most undignified way. She dismissed her thoughts from earlier, about being around people to avoid her emotions and her pending break down. She really did want to be alone, she wanted to lock herself up and lick her wounds, she didn't want anyone seeing her like this.
"I would apologize for coming over unannounced, but considering," he didn't finish the sentence, he didn't have to. "I think it best we take you to a healer, you inhaled a lot of smoke."
She rejected the idea quickly, snapping at him again, refusing to let another soul see her like this. "I'll be fine, I'll just magic this whole mess clean, including myself." She said, avoiding his helping hand as she stood up and looked into the house through the open door and shattered windows, seeing burned curtains and broken vases, the polished brown of the dining room set stained with black, and the walls… she looked down, ashamed. She had lost it completely, and her heart clenched, the momentary distraction wearing off and the memories coming back, the pain coming back. And it was crippling.
"Regina, I saw Robin at the camp, he didn't say much, but I figured…" again, he didn't finish his sentence, and although she was grateful that his talking to her once again momentarily distracted her from the full impact of everything, the topic wasn't helping. "And I just wanted to say I was sorry, and see if you were all right."
"I'm fine." She snapped again, but then reconsidered her reaction, knowing he was just trying to help. "Thank you." She added in a softer tone, still avoiding his eyes and surveying the damage. She needed to clean it up now, quickly before anyone walked by and saw this mess. She didn't need anyone else on her about this. "Thanks Dale, but I really need to start cleaning this up."
He got the message loud and clear, she noticed he knew when not to push her, and he softly albeit reluctantly bid her farewell and slowly started to back away. And she was relieved for half a second, walking up the steps just as she had no more than half an hour ago, before the dread squeezed at her heart again and she went stiff, everything coming back and she focused on her breathing again, tried to handle it all like an adult and she willed her feet to keep going but she was petrified, already tearing up and –
"Dale?" She asked almost timidly, fearing he'd be too far by now, but his answering voice reached her quickly and when she turned around he was already briskly walking back towards her and finding something else to focus on, anything, no matter how insignificant, the pain and the sorrow and everything crushing her to the ground lessened its impact, even if just a little.
Please review and tell me what you think. I would like to continue this into a multi-chapter story about OQ, but please let me know first if you'd like that,