Summary: AU - Emma rides the same train at the same time everyday, hoping for a glimpse of a certain brunette. It's weird but she feels a connection with her. All she can do is look at her from afar and hope that one day, she'll have the courage to talk to her.
Regina rides the same train at the same time everyday. She does, because she knows Emma will be there - Emma who is the love of her life, who has no memories of her. All she can do now is look at her from afar and hope that one day, she'll remember.
A/N: Here you go, my first fanfic ever. All mistakes, for which I apologize, are mine.
Inspired by the song Jueves by La Oreja de Van Gogh (Give it a listen! - watch?v=cQHkDCaa5Ac) and the 2004 Madrid Train Bombing.
I am forever indebted to the fake brug ( emmascassidy) for being my sounding board and beta. Shoutout to brolly and brug ( harmonftwalsh, rachsgeller) for being the best b's ever.
When Emma Swan tripped on her own shoelaces as she was running down the stairs, she was convinced her life sucked big time. She was pissed, not at anyone, really. She had no one to blame but herself.
She could barely scrape enough money to pay her bills on time – the door of her refrigerator was about to fall off due to the unpaid bills stuck there. Yes, she got a new job (god knows she couldn't take anymore waitressing) but her boss hated her and refused to take her off desk duty. To top it all off, she was running late, again. She would be surprised if she could keep this job for another month or so. Her upstairs neighbor had been hammering god knows what and kept her awake. Her alarm clock didn't work because naturally, she had forgotten to replace the batteries. She had also forgotten to do her laundry so she had to sniff out not so dirty clothes this morning. It was a thing with her, forgetting things.
It had been a few months, and honestly, she was still not used to it. Well, who could ever get used to the fact you had woken up in a hospital, with bruises and stitches and all, not remembering how it happened?
The nurses had avoided her at first. Who wouldn't? The doctor, who was unfortunately witness to her waking up, had earned a black eye. She had wrecked her room and pulled out her IV's. They had to sedate her to calm her down. Eventually though, she had accepted it. What could she do, hit her head on the wall and hope that she somehow regained her memory so she could get back at the sick fuck who did this to her? Nope. Life would not wait for her to pick up the pieces.
Luckily, the assault was the only thing she didn't remember. Curiously though, when she was strong enough to stand up and look at herself in the mirror, she looked older, like somehow she had lost several years.
It was hard when she got out of the hospital with nowhere to go. It had not occurred to her that living a life of a lone wolf had its drawbacks. Apparently, people needed people, and she had none.
The sound of the train coming woke her up from her trip down memory lane. She absently scratched the scar on her head while waiting for the train doors to open. There were not much people in the train as the rush hour had passed and as she was looking for a seat, her eyes landed on the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen, and somehow, she looked familiar.
"She doesn't remember you." These words echoed in Regina's mind while sitting on the bench in the train platform.
Her emotions almost consumed her right then and there. Her back found the wall to borrow some strength and she tried to swallow the tears that were threatening to make their way out of her bleary eyes.
"She woke up before you arrived. We asked her about you but she didn't recognize your name. She does, however, remember her name. She has memory up to a certain point but due to severe head trauma and possibly how disturbing the incident must have been for her, her brain cannot or would not let her access some of these memories."
The doctor's words did not make sense at that point. His words buzzed and she didn't understand anything. Just that her wife had no memories of her. She had clutched her chest, she couldn't breathe. Her heart seemingly stopped beating because she couldn't feel anything. If she did allow herself to feel something, she would be overwhelmed by agony. And she knew she couldn't do that. She needed to be strong. For Emma. For Henry.
Henry.
The confusion on Henry's face would be forever etched on her brain when she told him her other mother was hurt and had to go away to be taken care of.
"Why can't she stay here? We can take care of her, Mom! I could come home right after school and help you take care of her," Henry had sobbed.
She almost gave in. The truth was begging to be told to make everything easier for her. But she couldn't hurt Henry. She couldn't tell him Emma didn't remember her family. She couldn't tell him this was all her fault. So she just hugged him while he cried, while they both cried for a loved one they had lost and had no idea if they could ever get again.
This is what she did everyday. Repeat those scenes in her mind over and over. How she did not even had the chance to talk to Emma for the last time. How she had looked at Emma through her windows - she had looked so peaceful sleeping there, yet her forehead was furrowed like she was thinking about something. It took all of her courage to leave her lying there alone. The doctor believed that it would be confusing for Emma to know that she didn't have any memories of several years of her life. He thought it would be easier for her to transition to recovery if she didn't have to deal with pressure of getting her memories back. So she left, letting the guilt and sorrow dictate her decisions.
As the minutes passed, she watched the thinning of the people in the station. A little blonde girl approached her and asked, "Why are you crying?"
Confused, she brought her hands to her face and she gasped when she felt her cheeks wet. She didn't even notice.
"Here, you can have this," the little girl held out her pristine handkerchief to Regina.
Emma might have looked like this girl when she were young, Regina pondered while taking the handkerchief. "Thank you, dear. Now you should go back to your mother. She might be looking for you."
The little girl ran but looked at her one last time and shouted "It'll all be okay!" before running to her mother.
Emma had a very troubled childhood. It had taken years for her to reveal her past to Regina. Emma didn't want Regina to feel sorry for her, she had explained, but when she had seen the scars, Emma had no choice but to explain where they had come from.
Emma had not been lucky with her foster families. There were people who didn't give a damn about her but cared for the checks. There was a couple who liked her but when they had their own baby, gave her back like a borrowed doll. She thought she was lucky when she was given to a decent looking couple. It was too late when she realized how wrong she was.
She was fifteen, then. Too old for adoptive parents to be interested in, yet too young to live on her own. They had given her her own bedroom and she was blissful, too blissful to notice the man's eyes raking over her young body.
It was her third night, Emma recalled. She did not lock her bedroom because the man told her not to and she was just thankful that she won't sleep with other children like sardines that she was willing to do anything the man had told her to do.
She was about to fall asleep when she heard her door creak open. The man entered and he reeked of alcohol. She was so nervous then, but she couldn't scream because she knew she would be given back and she didn't want to go back. And so she had lain there, while the man took away the only thing she possessed.
Emma sobbed while she told Regina how she still had felt his tongue and his calloused hands on her body afterwards, how she had stayed under the shower for several hours, attempting to scrub off the dirt and the ordeal off her innocent body.
When Emma tried to tell the man's wife what happened, the man pulled her to his bedroom and hit her. He had beaten her so hard, she wished she did not open her dumb mouth. She cried that night, while washing her bruises and wounds.
It had been two weeks of repeated abuse and beatings that Emma had a chance to run, and run she did. Away from that dirty man who stole her innocence.
Regina had been appalled. Emma had not reported them to the police; she thought who would believe a runaway foster child over a pastor? But Regina had pushed her. She told Emma how what if the same thing was to befall to another young girl at the hands of that man? And because Emma believed in her, she did what Regina wanted her to do. And because of that, she got into trouble.
The pastor was powerful enough that he found out Emma had talked to the police. He waited until Emma was alone in their house and there, he beat her again. He hit her head on the wall repeatedly until Emma thought she was sixteen years old again, back in that house, back in her room.
Regina couldn't help but think- what if she didn't leave Emma alone? What if she didn't ask Emma to go to the police? What if she never asked Emma to tell her the story of her scars?
So she took the train. She had no idea why, but riding the train calmed her. She didn't think about any of these questions while riding the train. Somehow, it was like there was some unseen force beckoning her to ride the same train at the same station everyday. When the train stopped and she had taken her usual seat, she saw familiar locks of golden hair and forest eyes. She finally understood why.
Mondays through Fridays, Emma had been taking the same train, angry boss be damned that she made being late a routine. Ruby, their secretary, made it a point to laugh at her every morning when she came to work ever since she told her about the encounter (which would not really count as one). What irritated her though was her failure to make up her mind on approaching the woman or not.
She was stupid enough to imagine the lady would like her too. Must be in the genes, Emma thought, which made her chuckle because she wouldn't know since she had never met her parents. Which she proceeded to add to the growing list of reasons why the mystery woman wouldn't date her. She was an orphan, left by the side of the road by parents who didn't want her. The brunette must have come from a wealthy family, she guessed, although that wouldn't explain why this rich lady would opt to take the train.
Today, she arrived early at the station, which meant she had to wait for the next train to be able to see the brunette.
Emma sat at the nearest bench while still thinking of the list. She had been making a list of reasons why and why not would the brunette agree to go out with her and so far, it was in favor of the woman not dating her. Why would she even choose to date Emma, who works as a bail bondswoman (well not really since her boss had still not given her her own case) when the lady looked as if she owned the world in her suit and heels?
Again the train pulled her out of her reverie. Right after she entered the train, she looked for the brunette and there she was, looking so calm, yet so pained in her usual seat.
She looked so intimidating, and even if she agreed to go out with Emma, where would she even take her? Her favorite place was a diner two blocks from her apartment but what would they eat there? The woman didn't give her the impression of a burger and fries kind of lady.
Emma took the seat in front of the brunette. She realized she had been staring when the woman looked straight at her. She wondered, why did her face looked so achingly familiar? And why did the woman looked at her as if she knew everything about her? Well, she wouldn't know.
Maybe if she were more beautiful, if she were special. Heck, maybe if she looked like those girls from a magazine, not wearing faded pants, tank top and a battered leather jacket. Maybe, then, she would have the courage to ask the woman sitting across from her her name, maybe the answers to these questions even.
But she's not. So she looked away.
Regina smoothed her skirt while waiting for the time at a nearby bookstore. Emma might not realize it but she had been wearing her best clothes to ride the train. When she had realized Emma took the same train at the same time everyday, she started taking it too.
Today though, she had arrived early and decided to pass her time. Emma loved books. She was actually embarrassed of how much she loved reading. She would wait until Regina was asleep and she would tiptoe to the library, settle on the couch, put on her glasses and would read until her eyelids would surrender on her.
It was adorable, to see her wife curled on the couch with her eyeglasses hanging on her nose. Regina would wake her up, pretending not to notice the book lying on the floor and Emma would mumble something about sleepwalking and Regina would take her to their bedroom, settle her down and cover the blanket around them and Regina would fall asleep this time, in Emma's arms.
Her gaze fell on the watch on her hand. Emma's train was about to arrive. Her heels clacked while she walked, and she reminisced how those were the same heels she had worn when she first met Emma. It was so like a romantic comedy movie cliché that everytime they were asked to tell the story, they tried their best not to laugh.
Her car had broken down on her that morning. She was furious since apparently, her assistant failed to bring it to its annual check-up. Besides arriving late to the office, she needed to look for a new assistant now too. She was looking at her car's engine even though she had no inkling on what is what when she heard a woman's voice talking to her.
"Can I help you, miss?" Unfortunately, her head bumped on her car's hood lid and the woman had the nerve to laugh at her. If looks could kill, the woman would be ten feet under with her stare, she thought. But when she had acquired full view of the woman, she found she had trouble producing her famous killing stare.
"I'm sorry." The woman had said. "I can take a look at that if you want."
Regina was confused then if the lady with the golden locks was talking about her head or her car. She had half of a mind to bend her head and show her where she bumped it but then the blonde stepped near the hood of her car and ducked her head.
The blonde shaked her head and looked at her. "You might need to call a shop and have this towed. There's no way I could fix this and have you back on the road within an hour and you look like you're in a hurry."
She took a deep breath and murmured a thank you. Why on earth was she having speech problems?
"I'm Emma, by the way."
She swallowed and tried her best not to stutter as she laid out her hand. "Regina."
That was the start. Even then, Emma had the ability to take her breath away and impede her capacity to think. Even now, when Emma had no memories of her, she still had that effect on her, Regina thought.
She took her usual spot and she smiled fondly when the blonde yawned. Suddenly Emma was looking straight at Regina, her emerald eyes shining. She somehow expected the blonde to come over but then Emma just sighed and looked away.
Regina closed her eyes in disappointment and exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Sarhane Ahmidan woke up early that fateful Thursday. He crossed the date off the calendar and proceeded to prepare his things. The day had finally arrived. He was afraid. Who wouldn't be? He knew he shouldn't be, the others certainly were not, but he couldn't help it. He had been dreading this day ever since they said it would be him who had to execute this part of the plan. No one knew about him being scared to do this. They didn't need to know. He had promised them he would deliver and he would make sure he wouldn't let them down.
He drank his coffee, made his bed for the last time, put on the jacket they had given him and walked to his designated train station. Slowly, he walked. There was no rush, there was plenty of time. Besides, this would be the last time he would walk; he might as well enjoy it.
He arrived on the platform just in time for his train. He took a deep breath. This is it.
"Is it weird how you actually don't know someone yet you miss them?" someone said.
He looked to his right and he realized a blonde woman is talking to him. "Umm, I'm sorry?"
"I know it's weird. I've been seeing her for weeks now - well not really see as in dating but see as in see, you know?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, miss", he tried to dismiss the lady which ended futile because the woman continued talking to him.
"I never had the courage to talk to her. I kept on thinking, I'm not good for her, I'm not in a stable place to ask anybody out but then I know I had to because I can't live with myself and the what-ifs if I didn't."
This is bad, he thought. He was not supposed to talk to anybody. But then, what could go wrong? She looked like she needed someone to talk to and she might be the last person he would be able to talk to.
So he asked, "So you're going to talk to her now?"
The blonde's emerald eyes sparkled, she broke out in a smile and nodded, "Yes, yes I am. Can you believe it? It has been such a good week for me - did you even know my boss gave me an actual case of my own now? So I thought, what the hell, maybe fate will give this one to me."
He couldn't help but smile at her fondly. She sounded so hopeful that it hurt him to think he would be the one to take this hope from her.
"Everytime I look at her, she doesn't feel like a stranger to me. She… she feels like home."
They were raised to not be afraid of death. They were raised to be ready to make sacrifices. He was just not so sure what he was supposed to sacrifice his life for.
But he was already here. Everything was in place. He could not possibly back out now. He would die either way. There was no way they would let him live if he did not get through with the plan.
He watched as the blonde he met earlier got up and gingerly sat beside a brunette. He observed how the brunette's face seemingly lit up when the blonde held out her hand. Any minute now, he mused.
He wondered if these women would make a great couple. Well it doesn't matter now, really, he thought while feeling for the trigger inside his jacket. If they were meant to be, maybe they would find each other again in heaven, or in another life, whichever existed. He chanced another look at the two just in time to see the blonde reach out and hold the brunette's hand and they seemed like they were looking at each other as if they were the only ones in the carriage. That's what happiness looked like, he thought, and he felt hollow as he concluded that he wouldn't be able to know what that felt like.
By the time the train entered a tunnel and darkness enveloped them, he had pushed the button.
It's all over now.
A/N: Thank you for taking a chance on me. Please do leave a comment. It might not be my best, but I tried and I will work on improving. Re the terrorist's name: I don't mean to offend anyone by using a Middle Eastern name. I seriously had given so much thought about it (how it would not come off as racist). So what I did was researched on the bombings and combined two of the suspects' names (although the terrorists are not suicide bombers, they just left backpacks in the trains). My apologies.