A/N: For those that saw this the first time, sorry for the repost. I had a wave of "this just isn't ready to be out there" after I'd posted it. Sometimes I miss that reckless abandon I had when I first started writing. Anyway, enjoy :)
P.S. I know there are more "looks" on this show. There's about a million, I just picked some that really stuck with me.
The first time she really looked at me it was filled with contempt. In hindsight, I can't say it was entirely unwarranted, but at the time I didn't understand it so I did a dumb thing. I smiled and said, 'hi' as if she was the answer to my prayers. But because she's too smart for her own good and because she felt like her world was crumbling to pieces she used my naivety to her advantage. She said hi back. And then, 'would you like to come in?' or her own variation of those words. I walked into her house first and she followed behind. I thought it was out of courtesy I led the way. I didn't know it was because she wanted to make sure she always had the best view of my blind spot. Once we got inside it took less than twenty minutes before her eyes began tracing me. For a split second I thought it was out of attraction. Looking back, I guess that might have been a part of it, but more likely she was just sizing me up, plotting how to tear me down. That's just how it was.
The second time she really looked at me it was still filled with contempt, but there was something else there, too. Something rougher. Something similar to the ragged scratching that plagues a person after a night or screaming or a week of being sick. I figure in her case it was both. Except I was the one she was screaming at and I was the one making her sick. Now, I know exactly why we did it, but of course, then I didn't. I only knew a few things then. I knew that for once in my life I cared about something, someone, and his name was Henry and that there was a sort of rush that accompanied the risk that he might be taken from me. I knew that loneliness was a physical feeling, a feeling that sat deep inside my lungs just to the left and right of my heart and that it weighed so much that sometimes I had to gulp air down my throat in order to get a good breath in. I knew that emotions were addicting and that it didn't matter what kind they were, adrenaline was still adrenaline and once it coursed through my veins I was done. For us the emotion of choice, was anger. Unfortunately, it both gave us a rush.
The third time she really looked at me I had her pinned against the wall of a hospital closet. She'd poisoned our son and I felt myself ready to tear her apart. She banged her head against the lockers in defeat and the metallic sound it made found its way into my head and never left. I asked her if it was true and her entire face trembled. Places I thought were made solely of skin and bone quivered and I found I couldn't look away. After she nodded, 'yes' to my question, I felt like my world was crumbling down. I suddenly understood how she felt the first time we met. It scared me how much I wanted to tell her something that would make her body stop its shaking.
The fourth time she really looked at me I was protecting her, something I just picked up along the way. I don't know how it started, but I knew I liked it. I knew it gave me the same rush our anger did, but without the lingering aftertaste. It had something to do with living up to expectations, but it had more to do with the look she gave me when I did it. The funny thing about it was that it wasn't really anything special: a slacked jaw, widened eyes. If she'd raised an eyebrow it could have been mistaken for a look that said something more along the lines of, 'are you serious right now?' But somewhere in between threatening and saving each other's lives we'd developed a secret code of communication. No one understood it, least of all us. That would have ruined it. Instead, we just willed our eyes to do the talking. Thankfully, they did.
The fifth time she really looked at me, there was an iridescent glow cast upon her face. Despite the fact that the glow was to be our demise, it made her look beautiful. I remember thinking that while she absorbed the never-ending strands of magic into her palms. She looks beautiful. People always say pregnant people have a glow and I suppose that it has to do with the fact that they're sustaining life inside of them. That day, Regina had a glow about her and it wasn't from the curse or a baby. By risking her life, by attempting to save the town, she was sustaining life. She was sustaining us. As the magic kept funneling within her, her skin brightened and lightened and reflected off color. I joined her because I knew what happened to things that eventually glowed too bright, they burnt out. It happened with stars every day, every minute, every second. The difference was that there were millions and trillions and billions of stars. There was only one Regina.
The sixth time she really looked at me we were in the woods of Neverland. I said 'hey' because I was relieved to see her, but also because my brain didn't always work around her. She said 'hey' back because she was annoyed, but also because her brain didn't always work around me. It was usually quite frustrating, but in that moment it was kind of nice. She didn't look at me long that time, or even at all, really, which is kind of why I liked it so much. We had grown to the point of comfort, a stage often ignored. I didn't ignore it. I knew the lengths in which people clung to comfort and if in the end, it was comfort that Regina was clinging to when she thought of me, then that would be okay. Eventually, I wanted more, but okay was enough for now. Some people lived their whole lives with just okay, and I figured if it came to it, so could I. Just as long as okay meant coexisting with her.
The seventh time she really looked at me she was saying goodbye and she was holding my hand. I remember because I squeezed it too tightly when she first grabbed it. Her face had tears on them and the wind was blowing and my ears were burning red hot from the sharpness of the cold. She talked as if she'd planned out what she was going to say beforehand and I knew it was because that was the only way she'd get through it. The whole time I listened to her I let out quiet noises of strangled sobs in the back of my throat. Her face began trembling again and at one point I moved to lift the hand she held onto to wipe away her tears. When her hand clenched onto mine to stop me, I let her. We both knew that no matter how close we teetered on the edge of the cliff, if we didn't make that final jump, we'd survive. We both needed that right now. We needed to survive.
The eighth time she really looked at me time slowed. It actually slowed. I don't even remember what I said. All I knew is that we were trying to make a memory potion for Henry. I think it had something to do with her telling the truth. The thing I do remember is that I'd been shocked by my own words because I hadn't meant to let out a drop of the bottled up feelings I felt for her. But somehow, with those words, I'd uncorked the bottle and immediately after that my brain was drowning in all things Regina. I don't think I ever recovered after that. I think from that moment on I had jumped over that cliff and I'd decided that it didn't matter all that much if she jumped, too.
The ninth time she really looked at me it was with contempt again, just like the beginning. Unfortunately, my soggy brain soaked in Regina wasn't helping me out. And even more unfortunately, Regina had decided not to jump off that cliff with me because a hand had snaked out from the woods and grabbed onto the back of her shirt. That hand was Robin Hood's. I wanted to hate him, but at the same time I wanted Regina to love me. I'd decided that after she'd rushed out of Granny's Diner that night. I wanted her to love me. But she didn't. She hated me. She hated me for bringing Marion back, but it was more than that. She hated me for not grabbing her hand before I jumped off that cliff. She hated me for not demanding she come down with me because what was she supposed to do now when the distance to the bottom looked so far, and there was someone begging her to stay at the top.
The tenth time she really looked at me she was telling me she didn't want to kill me, which was code for she didn't hate me, which was code for she loved me. The only problem was she still wasn't ready to do anything about it. If she was, she would have just said it. She would have just said, 'Emma Swan, you idiot, I love you'. I smiled because I'm a sucker and because I've always been a great believer of the value of progress. I remember not knowing what to do with my hands when she said it though because they immediately yearned to grab her face. Not in an aggressive way, or even a seductive way. I think they just itched to touch the skin that communicated so much to me. If it wasn't for that face, and those eyes, I imagine we'd have been stuck at the beginning.
The eleventh time she really looked at me I thought I died. I still think I may have. I was in my bug when she gave me that look and then all of the sudden I wasn't because the thought of having a sheet of glass between me and her in that moment was unbearable. She stood by the town line, having risked her life to save me from a crazy flying beast - the sort of monster that always seemed to find us - and she sighed while she continued to look at me. I could tell by the rise and fall of her chest that she'd sighed. As a result, I sighed, too.
I wish I could tell my old self, the one walking up to that mansion of a house for the first time, with her heart beating like a fucking sledgehammer, that one day we would be staring at each other and sighing together. I wish I could tell her that one day Regina and I would save each other on a daily basis because that was our comfort now. I wish I could tell her that there is a cliff coming, a steep cliff, and that you're going to jump it first, alone, but that it's okay because Regina will make it eventually. She might take a little time and decide in the end to parachute down, or rappel, or magic up her own god damn elevator because that's just who she is, but that she'll make it down to you.
I wish I could tell her that there will be eleven looks that you'll never forget. Eleven looks that will change your life. And on the eleventh one, you'll finally be able to breathe because on that eleventh one you'll know you love her and you'll know she loves you and in the end, it'll all be more than just okay.