Notes:
Thanks again to SS-Swanqueen for the beta!
Chapter 10
Feeling rejuvenated, Emma made her way back to the room; she boarded the elevator, hit the button for the second floor and secured her robe tighter around her waist. A long swim and a soak in the hot tub had allowed the blonde to gain some much-needed perspective; she only hoped that their time apart had allowed Regina to do the same.
She combed her fingers through her thick blonde hair, the ends of which were still damp from the pool, and thought about what awaited her back at the suite. Despite feeling calmer about the whole situation, the Saviour's stomach fluttered slightly as she disembarked the elevator; the atmosphere before she'd left the room had been strained, to say the least.
Over the past week, there had been a shift in the dynamic between herself and Regina. There was a new tension between them now; the feeling was more complex, but definitely no less intense than the animosity that used to reside there. What it meant or where it would eventually lead them, Emma couldn't even begin to comprehend – and who could blame her? The brunette had been blowing hot and cold at such a rate, that the saviour was having a hard time keeping up. What had happened however, as a direct result of this erratic behaviour, was that the sheriff had lost sight of the real reason they had left Storybrooke in the first place – the pregnancy.
Whatever was or wasn't happening in, or to their fledgling friendship, it wasn't important. This wasn't about the saviour's own sensibilities; this trip was about Regina and hers; Emma just needed to be there for her friend.
It's that simple.
The blonde reached suite, swiped the key card through the reader and with a deep breath, pushed open the door.
The room was darker than when she'd left; fading rays of daylight seeped in around the closed blind – forming a slatted pattern across the empty, unmade bed. The Mayor was nowhere to be seen.
Emma placed her phone on the side table by the door and took a step into the room, her slipper clad foot creating a crunching sound as she stepped on what looked like part of a broken TV remote.
Great.
"Regina?" The blonde rolled her eyes and side-stepped the carnage as she moved further into the room. "I see you go the TV working," she joked.
The sound of glass smashing, followed by a whispered "shit", sounded from behind the closed bathroom door and Emma rushed towards it.
"Regina?" She called again, her hand poised on the door handle.
"In here," came the strained response. "I'm in here."
Emma swung open the door to the bathroom to find the Regina sitting on the side of the tub with her elbow resting on the washbasin. She wore grey silk pyjamas and her hair was a mess of unruly curls. At her bare feet, surrounding her painted toes, lay the source of the sound, a shattered drinking glass.
"I got sick again," the brunette said, looking truly defeated. "I was brushing my teeth and I felt a little faint..." she sniffed, her shoulders slumping forward, her hair hanging in front of her face as she waved an arm in the direction of the broken glass, instead of verbally finishing her sentence.
"Well, I'm not surprised," Emma said, with a sympathetic tone. "When was the last time you ate anything but M&M's?"
"Yesterday," Regina looked sheepishly at the blonde. "Lunch time."
"Regina," the blonde softly scalded.
"I know," the brunette rolled her eyes and pushed a hand through her unruly hair; it was longer now than Emma ever remembered seeing it. "I just can't seem to keep anything down."
"Okay," Emma said softly as she crouched to clear up the glass. "Don't move."
"Emma, don't be ridiculous; I can do it..." the Mayor moved to stand, but when the sheriff instinctively stopped her movements with a hand to her thigh – the brunette froze and Emma heard her inhale sharply in response. Scared that she'd overstepped a mark and was about to be admonished, the saviour cautiously lifted her gaze and saw her own hesitancy mirrored in the Regina's eyes; she noticed the flush that was covering her olive skin; even through the cool silk of her pyjama's, the brunette's skin felt warm against Emma's palm.
"Emma," Regina said breathily, and that single word was enough to break the spell. The blonde snatched her hand away quickly and held it against her body – reacting as if she had been burnt.
"Your feet are bare," the sheriff practically barked in explanation, before stealing herself as she dropped her gaze to the floor – and kept it there. "You might cut yourself," she added as she collected some of the larger bits of glass, suddenly very aware that her voice had developed a rasp. "I've got this."
As Regina settled back on the tub with a sigh, an awkward silence filled the space between them – and to Emma's surprise, it was the brunette that broke it. "This is starting to become a thing, Miss Swan," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Emma cautioned a confused glance upwards and despite how exhausted the brunette looked – the blonde could the amusement in her expression. "You, rescuing you me from a bathroom."
A smile tugged at Emma's lips as she lowered her eyes again to collect the last of the glass. "A damsel in distress," she quipped as she got to her feet.
"I guess that makes you my knight in a towelling bathrobe," Regina countered, looking up at the blonde with a smile of her own.
Despite the light heartedness, Emma felt her cheeks redden at Regina's words and she swiftly moved to drop the glass into the waste paper basket, effectively hiding her blush from the brunette's gaze.
"So," The blonde turned on the washbasin faucet to rinse away the fine shavings of broken glass that still shimmered against her skin. "Did you sleep at all?"
"A little," Regina leant forwards and grabbed a damp washcloth from the side of the washbasin. She draped her hair over her left shoulder, and placed the sodden material at the base of her neck. "I'm just so tired of feeling like this," she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly before opening them again. "The sickness has never been this bad before."
"Do you think that it could still be a reaction to the potion?" Emma asked as she turned to face the brunette, and leant against the sink. Upon noticing that Regina was attempting to cool her neck with the washcloth, the blonde wordlessly removed a hair tie from around her own wrist, and offered it to her friend.
"Thanks," the mayor smiled weakly as she accepted the proffered item. Placing the washcloth back on the sink, Regina piled her hair up in a most unqueenly fashion, and secured it with the band, ensuring the weight was off of her neck before answering Emma's question. "It could be," she frowned. "I've not really felt like myself since."
For her part, Emma was no longer following their conversation; instead she found herself entirely transfixed. The (formerly Evil) Queen was sitting in her pyjamas, her usually coifed hair was in a dishevelled up-do and she didn't have a scrap of makeup on her face.
She wore no armour; she was just Regina and to Emma, she had never looked more beautiful.
Emma averted her gaze to look down at her own feet, conscious of staring; her thoughts were confused, her feelings conflicted.
Now isn't the time, the blonde internally quashed her emotion with a cleansing breath - ignoring the warmth in her chest, that yearned for attention. Later...We can address this later.
If Regina even gives me the chance...
The brunette was finally opening up, just like the Saviour had wanted – but now instead of being pleased, fresh panic was twisting the blondes gut; regardless of how much closer they had become, once this was all over, Regina's pride could win out and their newly borne closeness...it could become the ultimate casualty.
It was a very sobering thought.
"I honestly can't wait for this all to be over," the brunette said in a tone that snapped the sheriff out of her reverie; it was as if Regina had just voiced Emma's worst fears. "Then everything can just go back to normal." As the mayor's words were spoken with a finality that didn't quite reach her eyes, the saviour relaxed a little and smiled softly in understanding.
"So," the blonde crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her chin. "Do you think you're done being sick for this round?"
"I think so," the brunette inhaled deeply, straightening her spine and rubbing her abdomen. "But it's hard to know for sure."
"Okay," Emma said as pushed herself away from the washbasin. "Wait here a second," the blonde disappeared to return moments later with another pair of slippers from the closet. "I think I got most of the glass, but there might still be some on the floor so," she placed the footwear on the floor by Regina's feet and gestured for her to put them on. When the brunette didn't budge, Emma stood to find the brunette staring back at her – an unreadable expression on her face.
"What?" Emma asked with a frown, as the mayor's eyes glistened with moisture and a soft smile tugged at her lips. Without breaking eye contact, Regina slowly placed her feet into the slippers and rose to stand, before closing the space between them and placing a solitary kiss to the blonde's cheek.
"Thank you, Emma," she whispered, before sidestepping the saviour and leaving the bathroom.
"Um...welcome," by the time Emma found her words, she was already alone. She raised a hand slowly to her cheek as the emotions she'd managed to stifle earlier, were drawn back to the surface.
The Saviour looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and her flushed reflection stared knowingly back; she was no longer confused – Emma knew that she had feelings for Regina.
xXx
When Regina awoke for a second time, it was dark outside; the glowing red lights on the bedside clock (which in her opinion, wasn't particularly in-keeping with the room décor) confirmed that she had managed to sleep for a couple of hours.
Feeling victorious, and finally well-rested, the brunette twisted onto her back and stretched – her stiff joints popping and groaning in protest. Relaxing back into the pillow, she turned her head, half expecting to find a sleeping saviour, but the sheets on the other side of the bed appeared undisturbed.
Regina lifted herself into a seated position, resting back on her arms as she surveyed the darkened room. Light shining around the closed bathroom door confirmed her suspicions and she flopped back down onto the mattress and rested an arm over her eyes.
She'd kissed Emma – albeit a peck to the cheek, but it was a loaded one all the same. There was something building steadily between them, and the harder Regina fought against it, the more she felt drawn towards the blonde. After what had transpired in the bathroom earlier, how the sheriff had reacted...the mayor now assumed that Emma must feel it too.
It was the worst timing in the worlds.
Absently, her hand had drifted to rest over her abdomen where her pyjama shirt had ridden up, and she flexed her fingers over the soft skin there; her thoughts darkening in an instant. She brought another hand down to rest atop the first and closed her eyes.
With Robin, once she finally gotten around to it, acknowledging her feelings for him had been more...straight forward. He had the lion tattoo, they were destined to be together and Regina never really questioned it once they were because, well, because he was Robin. He had paid attention to her in a way that nobody since Daniel had; he'd been persistent, he'd broken down walls and truthfully, she was incredibly flattered. There was an affection he offered that she had not experienced before; being with him was effortless (aside from external sisterly influences) and the brunette had thought that maybe that's what a soulmate was – a person that you were so in tune with, that it was easy to just simply be with them.
Emma...Emma was different.
Her feelings towards the Saviour had certainly always felt emotionally charged. There had always been an energy between them; Regina had her suspicions it had as much to do with magic, as it had chemistry. She had said it herself, the line between love and hate is thin and although their hostility towards each other had fizzled out, that passion remained. It festered between them with no outlet, and now they were on a trip together, sharing a room together...
It's like being in a damned pressure cooker.
But it wasn't just that.
Regina, was no stranger to lust-filled liaisons, and as a Queen, if she had an itch, she'd have someone scratch it – but what had happened tonight between Emma and herself, had begun to blur the line between carnal desire and her newly discovered need for affection.
Robin had been the first person to breeched that gap, but he had not done so with the ferocity and passion of Emma Swan – and Regina had no idea what that meant.
The brunette rubbed her face and stared up at the ceiling.
This is all such a mess.
Tomorrow she had to destroy the very product of her and Robin's love, the last piece of him that existed in this world. She'd been a fool to think that she could just brush it off, that what she had to do tomorrow would be simple – that it wouldn't have emotional repercussions. Devastation, guilt, sorrow... Tomorrow would inevitably be one of the hardest days of her life and she was powerless to stop it.
The first time that Regina discovered she was pregnant, she was elated; she'd thought it a miracle and although nervous, had looked forward, as any expectant mother would. She'd received gifts from (terrified) well-wishers, arranged a nursery and as she felt her baby growing inside of her, she had even allowed herself to indulge in silly fantasies, wondering what her child would look like, how their life together would be...
It had been futile.
The queen had given birth to her first baby just 5 and a half months into her pregnancy; exhausted, confused and heartbroken, she had held the tiny, lifeless body in her arms and had cried.
It took countless prevention spells, the failed work (and subsequent deaths) of the best physicians in the Enchanted Forest and several more dead infants to confirm to Regina that her potions cruel twist, was indeed unbreakable.
Regina had scarcely gotten to make decisions that affected her own life; even the decisions she thought she had made, were simply plans set in course by her mother or Rumple. The decision to prevent her from having a child had been hers and hers alone, and it was the one thing from her life in the Enchanted Forest that she regretted most of all; the irony of it stung, just like the tears that now pricked at her eyes.
A mumbling from the bathroom interrupted her thoughts and Regina lifted herself to a seated position again; wiping to moisture from her eyes, she strained her ears to listen.
She heard it again, and surmised that Emma must be on the phone.
Throwing off the floral blankets and swinging her legs off of the bed, the mayor padded barefoot towards the bathroom, to see if the Saviour was talking to their son, but she paused as she reached the door and Emma's words became clearer.
"Henry, we've talked about this and I told you to leave it."
Regina felt her stomach drop, she seldom heard Emma speak to their son in that tone.
"I don't care what it says in the book, kid. It's your mothers' decision."
The Mayor's eyes widened in realisation; that was what had been wrong with Henry, why he'd been so preoccupied – he thought he could find a cure for the potion - and Emma knew what he was doing.
"Well, your grandparents shouldn't have gotten involved – it's none of their business."
And the Charming's knew?
The latter was the final straw and Regina burst open the bathroom door, to find a startled Emma, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, perched on the side of the tub where the queen herself had been sat, just two hours earlier.
"I'll call you back," Emma muttered into the phone and held it to her chest, taking in Regina's posture and expression with wide eyes. "Is there any chance you didn't hear that?"
"What in the hell gives you the right to keep this from me?" Regina boomed, from the doorway, her hands placed firmly on her hips. "I've been worried sick."
"What?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she got to her feet.
"Henry," Regina spat. "I've been worried about him this past few days, and I shared my concern with you."
"I know but,"
"You knew what he was doing Emma and you lied to me – you lied to me about our son."
"Regina, I was doing it to protect you," the held her palms out in front of her, the right one still clutching her phone. "You said you had no choice, you said that you had to go through with it," she tried to explain. "Honestly, Regina – with what you're already going through, I thought I was doing you a favour."
"That was my decision to make," she said flatly. "I would have wanted to deal with it before I left, not have it affect my relationship with Henry once I get home."
"Regina, this will not affect your relationship with him," Emma took a tentative step forward. "He understands, but he understands like a teenager that was raised by fairy-tale characters," she shrugged. "He believes in magic – to him the possibilities are endless."
Regina scoffed. "And now I hear that the two idiots are involved?"
"Well, yeah," Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. "That's the weird thing, apparently King George once gave my mother a potion to prevent her from ever having a child."
Regina frowned. "But you're..."
"Here," Emma raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, I know. Apparently, she drank water from a lake that reversed the potion – a lake Westeros or something."
"It's called Lake Nostos," Regina quirked an eyebrow sceptically and crossed her arms over her chest. "And that lake dried up many years ago when your idiot father slayed the Siren."
"I know, that's Henry said. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's the same place Mom and I went to when we created the portal to return home from-"
"I'm not interested in your family vacations, Miss Swan!" Regina snapped, growing impatient. "I'm interested in my son and how your failure to let me know about his behaviour has now resorted in your entire family interfering in my private business."
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"No Miss Swan, it is very much not okay. As if tomorrow isn't going to be hard enough, I now have to deal with the fallout of your poor parenting upon our return."
"My poor parenting?" Emma was biting her tongue, Regina could tell. "You know what, your majesty?" The blonde held up her hands in surrender and pushed past Regina into the bedroom. "I've said that I'm sorry, and you know that I meant well," she grabbed her red jacket and boots from the sitting area and headed towards the door. "Why don't you give our son a call and speak to him yourself – put some of your own perfect parenting skills to work."
"And where are you going?" Regina called after her, irritation still evident in her tone.
"To see if this place has a bar."
xXx
Emma Swan was drunk off her ass.
She sat at the bar on a tall stool, elbow on the counter, chin resting on her hand, in a sullen stance. The saviour knew that she stuck out like a sore thumb in the hotel's fancy cocktail bar – clad in denim and drinking her beer and whiskey chasers - but she couldn't bring herself to care. Regina was paying for them to stay there – so fuck the hotel's snooty dress code.
The blonde sighed as she attempted to peal the label slowly off her fourth bottle of Budweiser; frustratingly, there wasn't enough condensation to allow the whole label to come off in one go – so instead it curled off in thin strips, leaving a sticky residue on the glass bottle.
"I can't even do that right," she mumbled into her palm, and her vocalisation wasn't missed by the bartender.
"So," the man said as he edged closer to the blonde, using the pretence of wiping at the bar with a towel. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Emma looked up at him, but didn't lift her head; her gaze flicked to his name tag. "You wouldn't get it, Andrew."
"Try me," Andrew said with a smirk and rested his weight on his hands, on the opposite side of the bar to Emma. "You'd be surprised at the stories I hear working behind this bar."
Emma hummed and pursed her lips, finally sitting back in her seat, taking her Budweiser with her and cradling it on the chair between her thighs. "Alright," she said, excepting his challenge with a raised eyebrow and a defiant chin. "I've got the hots for my friend, but she's pregnant with her dead boyfriend's baby."
Andrew looked temporarily stunned – but to his credit, recovered quickly. "Okay, I admit, that's a new one on me."
"Told ya," Emma said, tilting the neck of her beer towards him before taking another swig.
"So," Andrew leant further into the bar and scanned their surroundings. "Are you here with your friend?"
Emma rolled her eyes and placed her beer on the counter, before nudging an empty glass tumbler towards him. "Hit me," she said as she nodded towards the glass. "One more for the road, and then we can talk."
The barman surveyed her sceptically; they both knew that the blonde didn't really need another drink – however his desire to hear the rest of her story eventually won out and he tipped a good measure of amber liquid into the tumbler.
"She hates me right now," Emma mumbled around the brim of the glass as she took a sip of the acrid liquid, relishing in the burn she felt traveling down her throat.
"Why?"
"It's," Emma eyed Andrew cautiously; she wasn't too drunk to realise that she couldn't say too much about their life in Storybrooke without sounding like a whack-job. "Complicated."
"Did you do something to upset her?"
"She wants to get rid of her baby," Emma said, her tone devoid of any emotion.
"What?" Andrew's face twisted in confusion. "Her dead boyfriend's baby? Why would she want to do that?"
"Complications with previous pregnancies," Emma waved her free hand in the air in a dismissive motion. "She says she can't have it – but here's the thing," Emma leant forward slightly, pointed a finger at Andrew, and narrowed her eyes. "I can tell when people are lying."
"Sure you can," Andrew agreed in good barman fashion and Emma decided to ignore the blatant disbelief in his tone; her super power was a lot to swallow for a mere muggle.
"I think that she's too afraid to try," she said simply. "Because of how traumatic it was for her before."
"Well, that's understandable."
"I know, right," Emma took another sip. "But things are different in this wor-" she swiftly corrected herself. "Here. Things are different here and there might just be a way-"
"But her getting rid of the baby," Andrew interjected. "Wouldn't that be good for you?"
"Come again?" Emma frowned at him over her tumbler.
"Well, I may be playing Devil's Advocate here - but if she's not pregnant with the dead dude's baby – isn't that good for you?"
Emma's frown deepened, before she rested back in her seat with a sigh. "You'd think so," she drained the last of the whiskey and placed the glass back on the bar. "But the fucked-up thing is, I actually want her to have this baby."
"You do?"
"Yeah," Emma smiled softly and shook her head. "I really do."
"Why?"
"Because I know that deep down, she wants to have this baby too," the blonde shrugged. "And I want to see her happy."
"Sounds to me like you've got more than just the hots for your friend,"
"What now?" Emma scowled at Andrew and he quickly pressed on.
"So, let's say she has this kid," he stood back and threw the bar towel over his shoulder. "Do you see yourself being a part of that - in raising someone else's kid?"
"Why not?" Emma answered, without missing a beat. "She raised mine."
"Wait," now it was Andrew's turn to frown. "What?"
"She adopted my son, that I had with Neil – he's dead too you know. That's how we met, actually."
"You and Neil?"
"No, me and Regina," Emma said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Keep up, man."
"Right, sorry," Andrew blew out a puff of air and pushed his hand through his short black hair. "Do you think she has feelings for you too?"
"I think that she might, but there's the baby issue so..."
"Right," Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. "The baby that you basically just told me isn't even an obstacle."
"Don't get cocky, Andrew," Emma chastised the barman and swiped her almost-empty beer from the bar.
"I'm sorry but," the man sighed exasperatedly. "You already share a son with this lady?"
"That's right," Emma answered cautiously.
"And regardless of whether or not she has this baby, you see the possibility of a future with her?"
"I guess," Emma paused and contemplated Andrew's words; she truly hadn't even thought that far ahead. Everything was still so new; the saviour had only just admitted to herself that she had feelings for Regina, and now she was what? Thinking about playing happy families? With any relationship demanding that kind of commitment, the blonde would usually turn and run a mile – but strangely, she still felt the desire to stay.
That has to mean something.
"Ma'am," Andrew, the wise, leant forward on the bar again, interrupting her musings with the million-dollar question. "Have you actually told your friend how you feel?"
xXx
When Emma awoke the next morning, it was to the beeping of an alarm clock on the bedside cabinet; it both sounded and felt like a hammer to her skull. She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth and with half closed eyes, rolled over to silence the offensive noise and to take several large gulps of water from a glass that she must have been mindful enough to place on the cabinet the night before.
The blonde audibly moaned as the cool liquid soothed her parched throat and mouth, before placing the empty glass down on the side and wiping the residual droplets from her face.
She squinted as she surveyed the room, the light coming in from between the blinds assaulting her hungover state. Regina's side of the bed was made, but the room was silent.
In answer to the dull ache of her bladder, Emma gingerly dropped her legs to the side of the bed and shuffled towards the bathroom. She realised half way that she was only dressed in her t-shirt and panties, but was way too exhausted to care.
"Regina?" She called, as she rapped lightly on the door. "Come on, I've really gotta go..."
When she was answered with nothing but a wall of silence, the blonde tried the handle - and the door swung open to reveal an empty bathroom.
"What the hell?" Emma frowned, and she turned to look back at the bed; the alarm clock said 10am.
Regina's appointment is at 09:30!
She must have set the alarm to wake me up at this time.
The blonde rushed over to the nightstand, where it appeared that she'd missed a piece of paper and a couple of Advil.
Emma, I assumed that after last night, that you could use a little more sleep – and a couple of aspirin. Don't be mad. R.
"Shit!"
Emma turned sharply and went in search of her pants and boots. The blonde couldn't recall exactly what was said when she had returned to their hotel room last night – but it couldn't have been that bad, right? Regina had left her tablets for her pain.
After pulling on her jeans, which she found by the couch, Emma wracked her brains for the name of the abortion clinic as she punched Regina's name into her phone. She located her cell phone charging by the coffee table – also something that she was sure she hadn't thought to do herself in a drunken state.
"You have reached the voicemail of Regina Mills-"
"Shit!"
Hangover and full bladder forgotten, Emma tugged on her boots and grabbed her jacket, before rushing from the hotel room after the brunette; she needed to be there for Regina, like she said she would... she only hoped that she wasn't too late.
TBC
Notes:
Thanks for reading! Oh, and thank you for all the follows, favourites, kudos and reviews since my last post – it's really motivating to know that you guys are enjoying it.
You can probably guess that the next chapter will provide a sharp turning point in the storyline. I know from reviews received that there are readers in the pro-baby and no-baby camps – it's going to be hard at this stage to please everyone. I only hope that regardless of which camp you are in, that you still give it a chance and stick me till the end...I think (pray) that you'll be pleasantly surprised on both sides.