Chapter Four~
Emma's POV~
'Who am I' That's what she asked me. Such a simple question. I should be able to answer it for her like that. But I can't.
I know who she is. I know the way her eyes ignite with life when I'm near her. I know the way she holds her fragile soul together with walls and walls of hate and anger. I know the way she loves so fully, completely, desperately, hopelessly. I know how much she hurts inside.
I know her. I know her body and her mind and her soul. And yet… I can't tell her who she is. I can't explain it. My knowing her is a silent agreement. Something that is so crucial to my very own identity that words can never do enough to fathom the feeling.
And what would I tell her anyhow? Is she the Evil Queen that destroyed other people's happiness to alieve her own heart-writhing pain? Is she the mayor of Storybrooke, so hurt and broken and bitter in her painful search for something to care for? Or is she the woman I knew, the Regina I cared for, the Regina that was so unearthily good and kind and compassionate and loving and oh so full of life?
Who is Regina? Which of these people made her who she really was inside?
And now that she can't remember any of these identities….. will she never again be the woman I knew?
Tears start stinging my eyes.
This is so unfair. So so so so so very very unfair. My throat burns with how unfair it is and my desperation bubbles up out of my soul as liquid, running down my cheek as tears. They land on my shirt, the puddles staining it with my grief, and I think back to the tears that ran down my face a year ago when I thought Regina was marrying someone else.
And it occurs to me….. should I have let her? Should I have just let her marry Robin Hood? This would have never happened. She would have never lost her memory, her identity. She could be whole and happy and alive again.
She was this close, this close, to getting the happy ending she spent lifetimes searching for.
And life took that away from her. No…. I took that away from her. It's my fault that she's here in this hospital…. If I would have just let her marry Robin Hood….
But that's my guilt talking. Robin Hood was a lying, scheming man who could have never loved her as fully and completely as she deserves to be loved. However, I could. I did. I gave her that love, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
I wipe my eyes roughly, letting out a hard breath. She's looking up at me, sad and broken and vulnerable and not the Regina I once knew.
"Who are you?" she whispers to me.
And then it's that question again. Who am i? It's not a question you can answer. You can't explain all the things about yourself; your likes and dislikes and hobbies and interests; and automatically have someone know you. Knowing a person takes being with them, observing them. Seeing the way they truly become alive when they're doing what they feel like they were created to do. Feeling their lips pressed against yours and being encompassed by the feeling that your souls are connected; whirling and living and breathing in uncertain unison. Listening to them talk and hearing their voice turn deeper, fuller, realer when they let down their walls and allow you see to see who they really are.
Knowing people is precious. You will meet hundreds of them. And yet knowing someone, truly knowing them, is sacred and special. It takes time and patience will.
And as I look down at this woman with the soulful brown eyes and deep auburn hair, a fire ignites within me. A fire that will allow me to take the time, have the patience, and form the will to know her again.
