Author's Note: 101 followers?! I love all of you. Happy Thanksgiving to the Americans out there! I'm very thankful for you, readers!
They made it out of the castle grounds and into the village without further incident, the guards at the gates easily accepting Emma's apologetic smile and a convincingly limp Regina. They walked quietly, arms draped about as the villagers continued to celebrate into the night.
The only time they had ever been this close had been in the fire, and it was incredibly bizarre to Emma to feel Regina actually relax into her touch. She seemed like the kind of Ice Queen that would hate it, especially from someone like Emma and in such a tense situation, and Emma could certainly recall many times the Mayor bristled at someone even approaching her space. But Emma soon remembered how physically demonstrative she was with Henry. Regina always went to hug him, hold his hand, stroke his hair, and she always looked positively crushed when he granted those moments to Emma instead of her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. It was all the more interesting considering that Cora likely never held her daughter, never comforted her; that Regina, rather like Emma, had never had a mother to kiss her goodnight. In fact, Emma shied away from contact nearly as much, even from those she loved, only recently accepting hugs from Henry with all of the warmth they deserved and still grappling with the affection Mary Marg—Snow—her mother gave.
Yet she recently found herself reaching out for Regina. Maybe it was because she wanted to provide the comfort that the woman needed. That she knew she needed, because deep down, Emma wanted the same thing: for someone to make the effort—break down the walls she had struggled so long to put up. They were the same in that way, reluctant on the outside, but truthfully craving meaningful human touch. And their contact now, weaving along the dusty road, as contrived as it was, had managed to be soothing to them both.
Their journey was largely uninterrupted, with Emma only occasionally having to wave off a concerned mother-type with a smile, allowing her to concentrate on the woman she was supporting, and how she should have started supporting her sooner.
Making it to the edge of town, Emma led Regina behind the shack where they had hidden their clothes, no longer needing the protection of peasant dress, and already missing her leather jacket. Regina immediately returned to her regal self once they were in the clear, separating herself from the blonde's grasp, but not nearly as quickly or forcefully as she could have. Once again, Emma felt the loss of their connection, wondering as they turned away to change back into their modern dress in privacy if she would ever get to hold the Mayor that closely again.
Folding up her own skirts, Emma was going to mention that Regina ought to keep the boots she had taken, considering their long trek back and that she had more than paid for them, but she turned around to see Regina place them carefully underneath a worn wooden bench with her neatly folded borrowed costume on top. She was already fully dressed in her own mayoral suit of armor except for her pumps, which were now dangling from the former mayor's fingertips. Maybe Regina was drunk after all.
It was a welcome sight, Regina without her shoes. Mostly because Emma somehow felt that without them, Regina couldn't hide back in her usual cold exterior. Without them, there was a chance that things between the women really could be different.
In her other hand were their means home, the pouch and the hourglass, once hidden in her peasant wear but having no matching place in her sheath dress, a dress Emma noted was not good for hiding much of anything. Regina held on to them with a force that belied their importance but made no move to leave, as she appeared to be considering her options. Emma reached out her hand.
"Do you want me to keep them in my pocket? No holes, I promise."
Regina cocked her head to the side, her question not an insult, but genuine.
"I suppose I should trust you?"
"I want to get home just as much as you do. They'll be safe, Regina."
Apparently that was enough for the moment because she handed them over the blonde with a sharp nod and a stare that held more threat than most words.
They padded through the field, not needing to run with no carriages left on the main road, no guards left to care. The raucousness from the townsfolk fading with distance, they started out again on the forest path, careful to stay to the side of the road where Regina might walk on the softer moss and leaves.
Their hike had been comfortable, quiet. It was peculiar to be alone with Regina for so long and not have some sort of tension vibrating between them, but whether from the day itself or from being so close to home, the women were silent. Emma couldn't tell where Regina's thoughts lay, but refusing to worry about the technicalities of opening the portal at least for the moment, hers were mostly concerned with the queen, and she often glanced over at her traveling companion, strikingly beautiful in the unusually bright moonlight.
She could even see the pale mottling on Regina's arms, the beginnings of bruises that remembered guiltily came from her, even if it had meant they found the way home. She found herself wishing she could kiss them away, which was certainly not what she was expecting. She couldn't remember ever wanting to kiss away someone's hurt, except for maybe recently, with Henry.
"Just spit it out, Emma. Stop looking at me like I am going to spontaneously combust."
Regina's voice shocked her out of her contemplation, as did the use of her name, still so satisfying to hear from the brunette, and the tone that was equally tempered and teasing as it was irritated.
"I…" Emma considered what excuse she could use for staring but soon gave up. "I just know you're going to get mad."
"Well, I already am, so you have already succeeded." Regina may have said it, and she was certainly annoyed, but the usual fire was not there.
"Can I just ask you something?" Emma did feel bolder than usual, but she still felt the need to tiptoe around the former queen, even without her magic, even without her having control over Henry, even without the threat of harm. Emma was beginning to think her not wanting to upset the brunette had taken on an entirely different meaning.
It was no longer about what would happen to her. It was about what would happen to Regina.
"I mean, you don't have to answer, I…I just really need to ask."
Regina sighed. It was rather unlike the blonde to back away from confrontation—or to ask permission for a question. Considering what she had asked over the course of their day with no thought at all, Regina contemplated just how intrusive this question would manage to be.
"Fine. It hardly could be worse than your constant staring."
"Before…In the bedroom…before—it—happened, I could see your arms."
Regina instantly tensed at the memory. She needed to destroy this, destroy Emma before she got any further, but she was just so tired. And they were so close.
"I thought you had a question, Miss Swan."
Despite Regina's foreboding tone, Emma didn't take nearly as long to reply as she would have thought, her question simply tumbling out.
"Who did that to you?"
The words were quiet, but not filled with the patronizing disgust or pity Regina might have expected. They were curious, thoughtful, and Regina was reminded that perhaps the reason she knew exactly what Emma was talking about was the same reason Emma had known that someone had caused those bruises.
"My mother."
The answer was surprisingly easy, though she had never admitted it to anyone before. Perhaps it was because she was so drained. Perhaps it was because they were in a world that was no longer her own and she felt she could leave her troubles there. Perhaps it was because of the way things tend to surface in the dark when everything seems less real.
Perhaps it was because she found herself growing increasingly connected to this woman who had represented all of her fears; that maybe this blonde with questionable taste and a bad habit of not backing down wasn't so threatening after all.
"She would have hidden them before…they could be seen." For reasons she herself would not have been able to explain, Regina found herself offering more information, needing to disclose the whole truth.
"Not healed, hidden. I was to be reminded of what happened when I tried to run. Unfortunately, she was unavailable." She let out a sad little laugh and looked over at the blonde. She didn't know what exactly she was hoping for, but Emma provided anyway.
"You love her."
It was fact. Understanding. She wasn't asking for excuses or explanation. She knew somehow that Regina was just as conflicted about banishing her mother as she was the abuse she suffered at Cora's hands.
"She is my mother."
There was something about the cool, quiet night air and the twinkling stars and shining moon and Regina's easy openness that had Emma feeling intensely connected to the woman before her. She treasured being willingly let in. Especially when she so completely understood.
"When I was in the system… every family…I mean some were better than others, but every family I went to, even when they were awful, even when I knew that it would suck and that I should stay to myself…I always thought, maybe this could be the one, you know? This family would want me. They'd love me. Every time." Emma's gaze had dropped over the course of her admission, unable to acknowledge Regina's presence despite everything the woman had had to reveal, but when she glanced back up, none of the shocks of the day could have prepared her for the incredible compassion radiating from warm brown eyes.
Then Emma said the words Regina couldn't manage to speak.
"It's all about hope, isn't it?"
Both women knew the answer was yes.