AN: Two chapters in two days, don't say I don't do anything for you wonderful people :-) There's a scene in here for our competition winner laurathechef – hope you like it – and for the rest of you, I know the last chapter was sad but sometimes you've to go backwards before you can go forwards. Hope this one makes up for it. Thanks for your reviews and continued support, you all rock, and please forgive any minor mistakes. Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think.
Downing my large glass of apple cider in one mouthful, I lay down on the plush, soft bed in my makeshift bedroom and stare emptily at the ceiling above me.
Today has been surreal, a twisted, nightmarish, spectacle that simply won't end. It started with the realisation that I'm in love with the one person I simply cannot be with, and it's ended with too much alcohol, too many exposed truths, and the confirmation that I will never have what I truly want.
My chest aches, a pain that hasn't stopped since Emma declared her love for her pirate so brazenly. In truth, I never expected the situation would end any differently, but today has been a rollercoaster of emotion for me, and there's no real way to describe the crushing finality that comes with learning your affections are not returned and never will be.
Don't misunderstand me, the pain I feel is far less severe than anything I've felt previously, but now it's constant, deep, and something that I know will never fade.
Immediately after Emma left I took out my heart to examine it. The tear is no worse, but my heart has dulled somewhat, draining in colour and life, shrivelling up like a rotting apple. I have no idea what this change means, for me or the town, but I do know that Emma can never learn of it.
Isn't it strange that even with our hearts ripped out and our emotions rejected, we still fight to protect the feelings of those we love. This isn't Emma's fault. She's never so much as hinted that her affections lie anywhere else but with Killian. I can't blame her for what's happened.
No, this is the consequence of my years in the Enchanted Forest. The pain I caused, the deaths I ordered, the many happy endings that I tried to destroy. I don't deserve to be happy, so there's a strange poetic justice in the knowledge that my happy ending has already found hers with someone else.
Music plays softly in the background, a local radio station halfway through its late night love show. Maybe I'm a sadist for listening to such songs, the Evil Queen would certainly despise the side of me that's choosing to wallow in self-pity and defeat, but the truth is that I honestly don't know what else to do.
Yes, I could scream and shout, get angry in the way that everyone expects me too and threaten to wreak havoc on the citizens of Storybrooke. I could reign down vengeance on Emma and Hook, rip the pirates heart out and crush it before her very eyes like the old me would have done. But what good would it do? It wouldn't make her love me, quite the opposite in fact, and I am tired of raging war against the world.
I roll onto my side, my gaze drifting to the beautifully carved bow that I brought with me from the mansion. Did I ever really love Robin? I cared for him deeply, of that I have no doubt, but was he ever my true love? The more I think of Emma the more the idea plays on my mind. Hook has been a constant in our lives since Neverland, and he's always been ruthless in his pursuit of the Saviour's heart. If I'm honest, I saw their relationship coming the first time I saw them kiss. I told myself Emma did it out of gratitude, because Hook had just saved the life of her father, but maybe even that was just wishful thinking.
Was that the moment I gave up? Without even being aware of my love for her, was that the point at which my heart slowly started to break? Was Robin just a band aid? An overcompensation for the love I could never have?
Has my every thought and action since the day she entered my life, been centred around Emma Swan?
The cider begins to take effect, numbing the ache in my chest and quietening the doubts in my head. My eyes drift closed, the world around me fading to black, and that's when I recognise the now familiar song playing on the radio. I fall asleep with a smile on my face, thinking of my son.
'Looking from a window above
It's like a story of love
Can you hear me?
Came back only yesterday
I'm moving farther away
Want you near me'
I open my eyes to the dulcet tones of Alison Moyet, surprised to find myself sat at Henry's favourite spot, the playground castle that I jealously destroyed years ago. I have no idea what I'm doing here, this place was always a safe haven for Emma and my son, the only spot in Storybrooke where I wouldn't find them. It makes no sense for me to be here, to dream of those challenging, less certain times.
From nowhere the music continues to play, it seems to carry across the water on a continuous loop, a soundtrack playing from an invisible source. I glance around my strange surroundings but see no reason for my presence here. It's funny what too much alcohol and a broken heart will do to your dreams.
"Hey!"
I glance over my shoulder, surprised to see Emma approaching me from me behind.
"Emma? what are you doing here?" I ask, watching as she sits down next to me, her legs hanging of the edge of the castles wooden frame. A sense of dread overtakes me, "Did I call you here?" Suddenly fearful that I pulled her unwillingly into my dream, I offer a hasty apology "If I did I'm sorry, it was never my intention…"
"I think I did it," She admits, her face scrunching up adorably.
"You!?"
She nods sheepishly, "Yeah, I don't know how but I was thinking about you and…" She offers a small shrug, "I guess I fell asleep."
I raise my eyebrows at the realisation of what she's saying, "You know you're dreaming?" I ask, failing to hide my shock.
She smiles timidly and runs a hand across the back of her neck, "Well, either that or I fell through another time portal that transported me back in time about five years. But if that's the case I'm pretty certain you wouldn't be talking to me right now."
I can't dispute her logic, if I was the same Regina that used to prowl Storybrooke when this playground was still standing then I probably would have threatened her by now, or worse. But irrespective of that, I can't ignore the magnitude of what her underlying admission really means.
"You read my mother's notes?" I ask, though it's more a statement then a question. "You understand what it means to lucid dream?"
She turns to look at me, mildly insulted by my surprise that she even understands them, "I'm not a complete moron!" She protests, making an effort to defend herself despite the humour dancing in her eyes.
I smile lightly in return, grateful for the ease with which we've resumed our friendship. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a little worried about this morning's revelations. It's not every day that the once enemy, often friend, other mother of your son learns that you're in love her with. I'm impressed to discover that Emma is handling it so well.
The song ends, only to start again immediately after, and the blonde shakes her head regrettably and gestures towards the night sky, "Sorry about the song," she grimaces, "it was on the radio when I fell asleep. It must have made me think of Henry."
My breath catches at discovering yet another similarity between us, and my thoughts drift back to my mother's written words about connections and unspoken communication, "I was listening to it too!" I blurt out, uncertain whether or not I even wanted to confess to such a thing.
"Really?" She exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise, "That's weird."
The conversation quickly falls away and I'm disappointed to learn that our relationship has slipped back into uncomfortable silences and awkward shuffling. I'm not entirely convinced that we'll ever get past the one step forward, two steps back phase of our friendship.
"So we really can share dreams huh?" Emma finally asks, and I find myself grateful that she found the courage to break this awful tension that has formed between us. "Your mother's notes implied that only unexpressed True Love's shared dreams…"
She leaves the sentence hanging and I instantly know why. She fears that the both of us being here means that we're each other's true loves. I thought I may have shared if I didn't already know better.
Though the darker side of me would love nothing more than to make her believe it for a while – if only to make her pay for the almost pained look on her face – I no longer possess the bitterness to do so.
"Yes well," I blithely reply, quick to put her put if her misery, "As advanced as some of her thinking was I doubt she was always right," I offer her a sideways glance, "and I have a theory of my own."
"You do?"
She seems genuinely interested, but I can't help but wonder if she'd truly thank me for expressing my opinion. I shake my head, brushing the idea aside, "It's not one I think you'd welcome hearing, Miss Swan,"
"Try me," she challenges.
I sigh heavily and stare out into the horizon. The sky is filled with a thousand stars, the dark, almost black colouring of the ocean visible in the distance. It's one of those settings that all fairy-tales have. That perfect moment when the mood is just right, and hearts are bared. But that moment will never happen for Emma and I, and so maybe my theory is the best I can hope for.
I take a deep breath, uncertain how best to begin. "My unrequited feelings aside," I carefully explain, "I think the connection that allows us to share dreams, to communicate in the way we're doing now, is because we're soulmates."
"Soulmates?" She states, repeating the word as if it's foreign to her. "But don't soulmates have to be lovers?"
Ideally yes, but I wouldn't dream of telling her that.
"No," I reply with a confident shake of my head. "The dwarfs are soulmates, as are Geppetto and Pinocchio. The term simply pertains to two souls that are joined together…"
Her brow creases to consider my point, "And you think we are?" she asks.
I shrug, reluctant to say anything that could be construed as manipulative, "It would explain why we're always saving each other's lives!" I suggest.
She ducks her head, conceding to the possibility of my point but doesn't verbally cast her thoughts on the subject. Silence falls between us once more, and I'm content simply to remain in her presence.
For several long minutes I watch the sky, noticing how more and more stars slowly flicker out of sight. It's a sure sign that a new day is on the horizon and I'm content to greet it in silence. Emma on the other hand, has other ideas.
"So, why now?" She asks, a question that while out of the blue, needs no explanation. "We've known each other for years, why now start sharing dreams?"
I offer her a timid half-smile, aware that it's the same thing I've asked myself a hundred times already.
"That could be my fault," I shamefully admit, "I've only just realised that I'm…" I can't bring myself to say those five words out loud so quickly change my sentence, "…how I feel about you…and maybe I've been subconsciously reaching out for you in some way." My eyes flick to hers, bridging the small distance between us, "But who's to say we haven't always shared dreams, we may have just been oblivious to it until now."
She raises an eyebrow, "You think so?" She asks doubtfully, "Go on then, tell me about one of your dreams, let's see if I remember it."
The idea of baring my soul to someone who may yet decide to mock me, is not one that sits comfortably at all.
"I'm not sure it works like that," I reply thoughtfully, "I don't think we share all dreams. For instance, you didn't share the dream in which I killed Hook…"
Her face drains of colour at that particular unpleasant reminder, "At least I understand your reasoning behand that a little more now!"
"Quite!" I agree, having drawn the same conclusion myself earlier in the day. "But my point is that I think we only share dreams when we need each other, when we're feeling lost, or alone, or vulnerable."
"Like…?" She prompts, expressing her need for an example.
I sigh, wracking my memory for any hint of a long forgotten dream. Suddenly the answer comes to me, "Just before the dark curse broke I had a dream - a nightmare really - that the entire town, led by you, turned up at my door seeking revenge for the curse." I shiver at the reminder of that particular night, "You tied me…"
"…to your apple tree." Emma cuts in, aghast. "And I crushed one of the apples in my hand, it was rotten. And then I picked up my sword and I killed you."
My mouth drops open in silent horror, "We shared that dream!?"
She nods rapidly, as stunned by the news as I am, "Apparently so. That dream was the reason I protected you in the aftermath. It was the only thing that saved you." She turns slightly to face me full on, "Do you really think that we've been…unknowingly communicating with each other for that long?" She asks.
"What I think is irrelevant," I honestly reply, "The evidence appears to speak for itself."
We turn from each other to look back out at the horizon, the connection between us growing faster and stronger than either of us are comfortable dealing with.
"Have you ever…" Emma begins to say something but the words catch nervously in the throat, "Have you ever come across anything like this before?"
I swallow sharply, "No. I wasn't even aware it could happen."
From the corner of my eye I watch her pull her leather jacket tighter around her torso. There's no breeze so it's a completely defensive gesture. She erecting her armour against these sudden, unexpected emotions rushing between us, and I can't say that I blame her for it.
"So what do we do?" She eventually asks, her voice quiet.
I shake my head, as lost in all this as she is, "I don't think we need to do anything," I reply, hoping to play down the power of our connection, "They're just dreams, Miss Swan."
"Yeah," She eagerly agrees, as happy to ignore the truth as I am, "Besides I could think of far worse people to spend my nights with."
That simple statement carries so much weight, a subtle suggestion of exactly what could be if we'd only just let it. Our eyes meet in the dark, twin gazes locking in equal amounts fear and longing. The silence stretches between us, and the world around us seems to fade away. Her eyes flick down to my mouth and she licks her lips, but just as I begin to believe that she's going to kiss me, the moment passes.
"Do you think they mean anything?" She asks, shaking her head as if clearing it of unwanted thoughts.
"Only in the same way that all our dreams mean something," I reply, offering the explanation that I need to believe, and the only one she wants to hear. "The settings appear to be chosen by one of us subconsciously so I'd recommend trying not to read too much into that," I tilt my head, deep in thought, "As for the dialogue, now we're both aware that we're asleep I doubt it will differ too greatly from the conversations we share while awake."
"Kinda hard not to read too much into it when we're naked and in bed together..."
The comment is muttered under her breath, but in the silence of the night it's as loud a gunshot. My cheeks instantly flush at the memory of such an intimate dream.
"That dream was completely subconscious for both of us," I quickly explain. "I believe it likely had more to do with the strain our relationship suffered following Robin's death and Hook's return…"
Despite the unlikely nature of my response, it is the only explanation I'm willing to aspire too. Neither of us were aware of our connection at that time and I certainly didn't know of my feelings, therefore assuming the dream meant anything other than troubled friendship is absolutely ridiculous.
"Then why do I still remember what it felt like to be inside you!"
Emma's words come from nowhere, and they instantly shoot a hot fire of arousal through me. Does she really remember it that vividly? I mean I remember every last detail but I'm in love with her. The thought alone is a reminder that my feelings are destined to fail and unaware of her intentions, I quickly halt her train her thought.
"Miss Swan…"
"I know," She interrupts, raising a hand in apology. "I'm sorry, but they all just seem so real you know?"
I feel the ghost touch of her kiss, the heat of her caress, and nod my agreement, "Indeed."
"Was this ever about Robin's death?" She asks curiously, pointing to my heart, "Or was it always about how you feel about me?"
I want to scoff, to mock her for being so vain, but I find that I can't. Not when the truth is hanging so temptingly between us.
"I honestly don't know," I finally reply. "I think the initial damage was caused by the loss of Robin, but it's hard to ignore the fact that the destruction only began in the town once Hook returned."
She nods, having already suspected as much from her own observations, and fixes me with sad smile, "I'm sorry for doing this to you."
"It's hardly your fault," I scoff in spite of myself. "You didn't make me…feel the way I do."
She reaches out to rest her hand on top of mine, our fingers entwining in the space between us. "You will get past this you know," She promises earnestly, "Gold and the book both said that your true love was still out there."
I know that she means well but selfish pride refuses to hear her "This really isn't something I want to talk about, Miss Swan, and certainly not with you."
I didn't mean to sound quite so curt but what she's trying to do isn't so dissimilar to young Snow offering me her condolences for Daniel. A hope speech always loses its power when the person giving you it is the reason you need it.
"Okay, I get that," She says softly, quickly grasping my point. "So what do you want to talk about?"
I roll my eyes at her exuberant insistence for conversation, almost wishing for the days that everyone avoided talking to me. "Do we really have to talk about something?" I ask, sighing heavily when she nods enthusiastically in reply. "You're such a child! Why can't we just sit side by side and silently watch the sunrise?"
She turns her attention to the sky, a gentle smile forming at the sight of the dark orange hue just breaking the horizon.
"Do you think that means it's dawn in the real world?" She asks after barely a moments peace. I roll my eyes again.
"I have no idea. I suppose our body clocks are attuned to such things so, possibly." I watch as her smile crumples into a cute little pout. "Somehow I always knew that you wouldn't be a morning person."
"It's not that it's…" Her voice trails off bashfully and she breaks eye contact, "I like being here with you!"
"Excuse me?"
She shrugs, "I like your company. We're soulmates, is that really so hard to believe?"
Though it doesn't seem like much, hearing her say those words breathes life into my heart, "So you agree with my theory?" I ask hopefully.
"I agree that it's the only one that makes sense," She affirms. Huffing petulantly as the song permeating the air begins once more. "Geez how many times do we have to listen to this song? It's Henry and Violet's thing not ours!"
Her irritation is endearing and unable to resist a jibe, I smirk, "And what, pray tell, do you consider our thing, Miss Swan?"
She sucks in a breath, taking the time to seriously consider the question. "Arguing, fighting, hurling insults back and forth," She flashes me a wide grin, "We're like Cinderella's ugly sisters!"
I scoff at the comparison, insulted that anyone would dare think of me in such a way, "Speak for yourself!" I tease lightly, "I'd prefer to think of us as Lady and the Tramp…"
She likes that suggestion, nodding happily in agreement until a confused frown creeps in, "Wait, am I the Tramp?" She gasps, shocked.
"Of course, dear," I confirm, laughing loudly, "I'm a queen, a mayor and a powerful sorceress while you're…" I look her up and down, pulling my most regal expression, "…you!"
Her grin widens, "You haven't quite grasped this love thing yet huh?" She jokes, feigning hurt, "You could have at least said Jasmine and Aladdin!"
I don't consider myself a particularly cruel person, not anymore anyway, but there's something about Emma Swan that just invites me to tease. It's almost as if the point of the woman's very existence is to provide a constant source of amusement for me.
"I've met Aladdin actually," I reply with a dismissive wave of my hand, "and he's far more charming than you could ever be!"
"Oh really, Regina?" The blonde goads, challenging me with laughter filled eyes. "What are you going to do next, pull my hair? Put worms in my bag? I maybe the so called childish one but at least I'm not acting like a school kid with a crush!"
I know that the words are meant in jest but something about them plunges deep into my broken heart. An untimely reminder that regardless of the apparent ease between us there is an inescapable imbalance in our relationship. My smile instantly fades.
"A crush?" I shout, the humour from before quickly forgotten. "Is that what you think this is Miss Swan? Do you think that I am so desperate for someone to care about me that I'd destroy my own heart for a crush?"
Shocked by my sudden change, her mouth moves wordlessly. It's then that I realise that this is how things will always be between us. We can try to be friends but ultimately, our conversation will always circle back to my feelings.
Desperate to get away, I stand on suddenly shaky legs, "I think it's high time I woke up."
It takes her a split second to figure out that I intend to leave her and before I can, I feel her hand grasp tightly onto mine. She looks up at me with large, pleading eyes.
"Wait, Regina, I'm sorry," She begs, pulling me back when I try to move away. "It was a joke, an insensitive one I know, but still just a joke. Please don't go."
I take a deep breath, knowing in an instant that I could never refuse her anything. Aware that I'm doing something I'll likely, later regret. I hesitantly sit back down.
The sun has broken the horizon now, it's bright glow reflecting of the ocean and bathing the world in warm glow. I turn to Emma, watching her as she watches the dawn. The sun dances gloriously in her green eyes, it highlights her hair in golden streaks, and I'm transfixed. No one has ever looked as beautiful to me as she does right now.
As if sensing my gaze, she slowly turns her head to look at me. "You know," She begins, her voice dropping to a low raspy whisper that I've never heard before, "If we really were the Lady and the Tramp, this is the part where I'd kiss you…"
I swallow sharply, unable to tame the wild beating of my heart as my eyes drift down to her so close and so tempting lips.
"Emma…"
My protest is lost on a breath as her lips press against mine. It's chaste, and soft and so completely perfect that for a moment I actually forget to breathe. When we open our eyes it's to stare deep into the others soul.
"Emma!" I repeat, her name whispered reverently against her lips. And then I press forward and capture them with my own.
The second kiss is harder and filled with desperate passion. I grip at her jacket and pull her closer to me, relishing the feeling of her fingers sliding into my hair to hold me against her. Feeling brave, I snake my tongue out, tracing it across her top lip. With a moan she opens her mouth to me, and I can't prevent a moan of my own as our tongues meet for the first time.
But just as soon as the kiss begins, it ends, and scared green eyes pull back in fear.
"God I'm sorry," Emma stammers, pushing me away and darting to her feet. "I have no idea why I just did that."
I feel my heart break anew.
She glances down to me, must notice the disappointment and hurt in my expression, and her face crumples before my very eyes. "I'm sorry," She apologises, unable to fight the tears that threaten. "Regina, I'm sorry…"
And before she can even finish what she's saying she's gone. Doing what Emma Swan does best by waking up and running away.
A part of me knows that I should probably feel angry. She's hurt me in a way that she hadn't managed before and for what? She's just going to run straight to her pirate.
But for the first time since this all began I feel something new stirring within, something I don't think I've ever felt before. Hope. Emma kissed me, not the other way around. She kissed me and that can only mean one thing. She wanted too.
Content to let the moment rest there for now, I turn to face the new day. The sun is high, the sky is clear and blue, and the air is filled with the words of a song that suddenly seem far less about Henry, and far more about a Queen and her Saviour.
'Sometimes when I think of her name
When it's only a game
And I need you
Listen to the words that you say
It's getting harder to stay
When I see you
All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew
Only you'