"A Hug Before Dying"
By StregaOmega
**Usual Disclaimer, I own nothing, I just borrow the names**
SQ Prompt from MMisery on Tumblr: "How about Regina asks Emma about why she hasn't been herself and Emma doesn't want to tell her about her future vision but asks for a hug because she could really use one."
Set in Season 6, "Strange Case" on the docks after Jekyll/Hyde is killed.
My first prompt and my first Swan Queen ficlet. I hope you enjoy! :)
The duality of the moment had not escaped her. From the sharp northern wind to the early spring sun beating down on her neck, and from the lapping of the ocean current to the dryness in the back of her throat… Emma felt a surreal balance at Regina's announcement.
"I have to die."
Hyde had died with Jekyll, as the Evil Queen so would die with Regina. The ultimatum was harsh, and unforgiving. And yet Regina had presented her fate as if it were any other day's shopping list. A jug of bleach, six apples, and I have to die.
Emma couldn't even bring herself to tell Hook, her supposed true love for whom she had traveled to hell and back, that she suspected her own fate was drawing close. And yet here was Regina, back straight and jaw taught, declaring her destiny as if it were already dealt. Worse yet, Regina had also fallen victim to her other half's fear mongering; the evil could "regrow" any moment. It was preposterous, utilitarian in its divisiveness, and the only reassurance that Emma had to offer was:
"I won't let it come to that."
No. Of course she wouldn't. But she could have kicked herself right then and there, bitten down on her own accursed tongue until it bled, for her lack of effect. Of course, after all they had been through together, Emma wouldn't let Regina return to her darkness, nor did she honestly think her capable of such reversion. But Regina's bluntness had taken away her bravado, as well as her genetic capacity for inciting hope.
Emma chewed on her lip, lost for further words. Could she really kill Regina, if she absolutely had to? Her gaze drifted away, as her thoughts returned to the nightmare of her vision. The clanging of swords, the burning in her arms, the sweat falling into her eyes, the pit of her stomach falling out while her sword is flung to the ground… and the confused memory of emotion, Regina yelling out her name as she dies… and yet…
"Emma?"
She barely registers Regina's voice as she tentatively calls her name again, drawing her out and away from her thoughts. When she looks back up, Emma has to shield her eyes from the glare. Regina is positively alight in the sun's high-noon glow. Radiant. Exquisite in her dignity. Emma's eyes water as she vainly blames her tears on the sun. How could the fates be so cruel? How could anyone be so brave?
"Emma, are you… can you handle this?"
With a sniff, and a roll of her shoulders, Emma shakes free from her reverie. "Yeah… yeah, no problem." Her feet are leaden as she begins her return up the dock. Her sudden need to be away from Regina is overwhelming. Why on earth was she so far down the boardwalk in the first place? She picks up her pace to speed past Regina, when she is caught by her upper arm.
Regina's grip is firm, but not without care. "Emma. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Regina laughs, though there is hardly any mirth in the sound. "There is plenty wrong, Emma, with a lot of things right now…"
Emma can't look her in the eyes, but focuses instead on Regina's fingers, and her thumb gently stroking her arm.
"You can tell me, Emma. You can tell me anything."
Emma looks up, and Regina smiles, scrunching her nose. "At least you can tell me now, before I turn into a monster again."
"You're not– I won't let–" Emma huffs. "This isn't fair!"
"Fair? No. Judicially poetic? I'd say it's rather-"
"No!" Emma fights to reign in her indignation to avoid stomping her foot like a five-year-old. She pulls away and folds her arms across her stomach, trying to settle her butterflies. "It's just… there has to be another way!"
Regina quirks an eyebrow. "Well, I'm open to suggestions!" Emma pales and struggles for words under Regina's scrutiny. Only when her lip begins to tremble does Regina soften. "Emma… Come on now. You've not been acting at all like yourself. What aren't you telling me?"
The truth shouldn't be this hard. The phrase, "I'm going to die, too" lodges in her throat. Behind the words, the inexplicable fear of Regina driving a sword through her gut knocks the wind from her lungs. And, underneath it all, the guilt of her impossible choice threatens to stop her heart.
Emma hangs her head, hands shaking with anxiety, as she mumbles to the planks below.
"Em-ma… what is it?"
"I– Can I– have a hug?"
Emma peeks up through her lashes. Regina's mouth is slightly open, clearly unprepared for the request.
"Nevermind! It's– I'm stupid. You shouldn't have to–"
With two quick strides, Regina cuts her off, eliminating the distance, and pulls Emma into a crushing hug.
"You," Regina whispers, "are NOT stupid."
The butterflies in Emma's belly have flown into her arms, and she wraps them, practically clinging, around Regina's shoulders. Her fallen head rests neatly in the crook of Regina's neck, and she takes a deep steadying breath. The light scent of apples and old books fills her nose and suddenly it is almost impossible to keep from crying out loud. Her body is stiff, frozen with anger, regret, and sorrow. Her hands ball into tight fists as her jaw seizes.
Regina has one hand slowly stroking her back, her other cradling her head. "Relax, Emma…" Regina soothes, "Breathe… It's- It's going to be OK." But Regina's body belies her own words. It isn't long before Emma realizes she's shaking. The instinct to push away, to escape and run, resurfaces but is quickly forgotten. Emma only holds on tighter, her fists unfurl just enough to grab the material of Regina's jacket.
"You– can't die. I won't let it happen."
Regina's exhale is a whine so quiet that Emma wonders if she heard anything at all, but shortly thereafter a tear rolls back across Regina's upturned face and stops to rest at Emma's temple.
"You can only do what's right, dear." Regina turns her head, her voice soft in Emma's ear. "Whatever happens, I trust you." Her lips wipe away her own tear as she kisses Emma's head.
Emma's stomach flips. Every hair on her body stands on end. She recoils, her hand flying up to touch the place where Regina had sent an electric pulse directly to her brain. Her heart skips as her eyes refocus from a sudden haze.
Regina, though, is stock still, her eyes wide, a look of apprehension dawning.
Emma waits before asking, "What was that?"
It takes a moment for Regina to respond. Her eyes narrow as she returns her gaze directly to Emma. "I just– I saw a vision."
Emma gulps. "…And?"
Regina is eyeing her from the side now, her head tilted in question. "Emma… I was you… And you died." Regina's face is flushing. "Is this– did I–?"
"You– I didn't– you weren't supposed to know!"
"Emma! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it doesn't matter! It's my fate as a savior, and-"
"Damn it, Emma, it DOES matter! YOU matter! You have ALWAYS mattered." Regina is crying freely, her chin quivering, but she is steadfast. "You mean more to… anyone… than anything." Regina scoffs and rolls her eyes, tossing her head before unceremoniously wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Damn it all, Emma, I love you! And if it's a choice between my life or yours… I will save you. Every time, Emma. I will always choose you."
The ensuing silence is deafening. Neither woman moves for what feels like hours. The wind tosses their hair into knots and their shoes are wet with sea spray. Emma is the first to break. She takes a short step forward, and she holds out her hand.
"Regina?" Emma smiles. "Come here."
The Queen cautiously moves forward, never taking her eyes away from Emma's. She gasps when Emma takes her hand.
"You once told me," Emma began, her heart surprisingly still, "that fate pushes us, but our choices are our own." She gives her hand a squeeze. "Well, if you are going to continue to push back against fate… then so will I."
Regina smiles, light if not somewhat unsure. "Together, then?"
Emma nods. "Together."