A.N: Thank you so much for stopping by! Ginormous thank you to FaerieTales4ever for being my title and summary saviour, beta and all-round wonderful person. :)
I don't own Once or any characters. If I did, we would have a new episode every day!
My heart feels like it's dropped down into my stomach. A strange ringing is making it impossible to hear anything else and my throat is so drained of moisture that I can't even gasp. It's not until I realise my nails are digging into my tightly clamped palms that I see everyone is looking at me. Gone. I know exactly what that means. Why don't they just say 'dead' so everyone is on the same page? I'm looking at Ruby, searching for her eyes to be the wrong colour or her top to be one I don't recognise - just something to prove this is all a dream. She's staring intently into my eyes but I don't have anything to give her. I know what they mean in the movies when they talk about feeling numb. There's nothing. No sound, no feeling. Just, nothing. 'We'll give you some time,' murmurs one of the doctors and they shuffle off. All in a day's work for them. Someone is squeezing my hand but I can't squeeze back. I can't move. My hands and feet are lead and my eyelids are closing until all I can hear is my name being called as the world turns black.
When I wake up I'm lying on a couch in a room I don't know. 'Hi,' whispers Ruby. I can see she's been crying, her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are damp. She lets go of my hand as I slowly sit up and my knee twinges. I must have fallen awkwardly on it. When she speaks again it's with an air of caution, as if I'm a fragile object she doesn't want to break. 'Are you alright?' I nod. 'They said you can go and see her. You know, if you want to.' The only thing I want to do is go back in time. Back to yesterday, to work, to the squashy chairs in our living room, to normal boring everyday life. 'Emma?' I rub my face with my hands and nod again.
She looks fine. Not pale and gaunt like on TV, she just looks like she's sleeping. In fact, she looks perfect. Her hair frames her face beautifully and she's wearing the plaid shirt I love. She's even more tanned than usual from working in the sun on the new garden but I can still see the paler marks left from the arms of her sunglasses. It truly looks as if she'll open her eyes any second and I'm willing it with all my heart but when I look back at Ruby, whose breathing is heavy with emotion, I know it's in vain. I don't speak, I can't. Not when the love of my life is lying on this table. I take her hand and wrap my fingers through hers, my other hand tracing the wedding ring on her finger. I'm remembering the nervous shake of my voice when I, Emma Swan took Regina Mills to be my lawfully wedded wife. Never removed since the day I put it there, this ring is the symbol that was supposed to keep us together forever.
I don't want to leave, I want to build a wall around this room and stay here but an hour later I'm in Ruby's car which smells like fried food and cinnamon. I can tell she doesn't know whether to speak to me or stay silent so I break the silence with a question I've been hesitating to ask. 'Can you stay, tonight?'
Henry's in New York with Neal. I can't be there alone. 'Course,' she says, staring straight ahead. I'm looking out of the window, watching raindrops beat down onto the ground and then jump up like little insects. People are hunching under umbrellas and holding newspapers above their heads as they dart inside. Suddenly I have to be out there. 'I need to get out,' I say and my voice sounds more urgent than I mean it to. We pull in to a side road and stop. I can't explain it, it's like I need to get out of this car and into the rain just so I can breathe. I yank the handle and explode through the door into the downpour. Ruby follows but stays a few feet behind as I stand there, looking up into the blackening clouds with both hands on my head wondering what on earth I'm going to do. Then the tears come. Two arms envelop me and we sink to the ground, rain pounding, bodies wracking as we sob for who we've lost and what has ended.
When we get home I have to be the one to open the door. I have to be the one to turn on the lights. I flick on the kettle even though I'm not thirsty, just in case her last touch is still lingering. She's left a tin of gloss and a paintbrush on the counter with a note that says Don't touch the door frames! My fingers touch the words and I force my brain not to think about her standing where I am, writing them. I don't want to sleep but Ruby looks tired so I drag my damp, heavy limbs upstairs. We're silent as I pull on a dry tank top and yoga pants and climb into Regina's side of the bed. The pillow smells of her - her shampoo and her perfume and the smell of, well, Regina. I bury my face in it so hard I can barely breathe and even when I think there can be no tears left in my body, some are finding their way out. I hear Ruby getting off the chair and feel her lying onto the other side of the bed before she wraps her arms around me and holds me tightly, stroking my hair until I somehow manage to fall asleep.
There's a second where I don't remember. The sun is up and streaming through the makeshift curtains. It's like any other day except when my brain finally kicks into gear and then stops. It's like she's just died again. I need to be sick. Stumbling into the bathroom, I'm soon joined by Ruby who asks if she can do anything. I shout that no, she can't and nobody can so there's no point in asking. I want her to shout back, to tell me she was only trying to help and I don't need to be such a bitch but she doesn't. I suppose nobody will anymore. I brush my teeth and get back into the bed. I try not to think about yesterday but my mind is drawn back as if by a magnet. I want to remember her splattering paint all over me and singing Journey at the top of her lungs. I want to believe in my heart that she's going to walk through the door and hang her keys on my hook because she knows it annoys me. I would forgive everything. Every time she left the Mercedes running on empty, every little comment when we argued and all the stockings left on the floor.
They're still there. Two stockings right where she curled them off by brushing her feet against the carpet.
I'm trying to play it cool but the butterflies in my stomach are making me feel nauseous. There she is, standing at the counter as Granny fusses over her order and asks twice if she wants syrup with the pancakes. It used to amaze me how her presence turned even the most hardy people into gibbering wrecks but as I work up the courage to go over, I'm speechless for a different reason. She's absolutely stunning. Even in her mayoral suit and blouse she has the ability to take my breath away and I'm rooted to the spot for a moment as I soak in every inch of her.
After a few stern words to myself, I decide to bite the bullet but as I edge nearer I'm struck by doubts. I don't even know if this is what she's into. I mean, we get on, we've settled our differences but it's been more for Henry's sake than anything else. What if she laughs and tells me not to be so ridiculous? What if she hasn't been feeling this too?
I'm standing next to her now and the soft, floral notes of her perfume are reaching my nose and making me giddy. Her eyes turn towards mine and we look for a moment, as if into one another's souls. I tell myself it's now or never.
'Hi, Regina. I was just wondering if maybe, you know, when you're not busy, you might want to grab something to eat. You know, like, dinner? One day?' Oh God, that was awful. She thinks so too, look at her eyebrows knitted in a mixture of pain and pity. My heart is racing now and I'm just praying she won't make a scene.
But she doesn't laugh and she doesn't run away. In fact, to my surprise, one side of her mouth moves upwards into a small smile and her deep, chocolate eyes soften as if she's been waiting for me to ask her forever until she takes a deep breath and makes my heart leap with a simple, husky syllable. 'Yes.'