AN: Happy Thanksgiving! I give you the gift of Snow Queen pain. :)

The Pain of Infliction

She told me that we were done. As if she was the one who was strong and gallant enough to end this, but that is not the way it happened. I ended it. I left her. And she's running away into the forest at my rejection, just as she always does.

Snow had the nerve to tell me that we were done. And off to her prince she went, feeding him whatever lies and half-truths he needed to hear to make it impossible not to see her as a victim. Wrap her in a blanket and tell her that it's all going to be okay. It's the only explanation for why he was not after my head that night, with his army of idiots. Or the night after that, or for the rest of the week. I was not vague in my implications. I feel a smile lining my face. He knows that she's mine, and every time he kisses her, he'll taste me—

We're done though.

Ultimately the who or the why matters very little. The outcome is the same. And good riddance to her hold on me. I no longer need her poison in my veins. Let her destroy herself without me, because without me she will be destroyed.

I don't need her.

My fingers tighten on my steering wheel, while I watch the diner down the street from my car, as Snow and the rest of the town have a farewell party for her. She's leaving tonight. And I've been sitting out in my car for the last forty minutes. This is pathetic. I'm pathetic.

I turn the key and start my engine, ready to pull away and maybe drive straight through the town line so I could forget everything about her. A punishment worse than death. That would be fitting. As my hand moves to grab the gear shift, my passenger side door opens, and I watch surprised as Snow climbs in my car, sitting next to me. She faces straight ahead, and doesn't look at me, doesn't say a word. And for a while, I just glare at her in surprise and anger, but as the moments of still between us pass, it turns into me just watching her. Watching her eyes focus on the diner, then back on the road, her jaw tensing, hands twisting in her lap. Just a tee shirt and jeans is all she's wearing, something practical and comfortable I'd imagine for the inevitable trip into the woods.

I almost ask her if she's okay. But just the thought of how that would sound coming from me makes my throat tighten.

Someone will see us soon, they will notice that their princess is missing, they'll come looking for her. Finding her with me would probably be the last thing either one of us needs right now. She's giving no sign to speak, or even leave, just fidgeting nervously more and more, and dammit—

The Mercedes jerks into gear, as I pull quickly out of my parking space, and make a U-turn, going the opposite direction of the diner.

We drive in silence, through town, past my mansion—because that would be the first place they would look for her. Buildings pass us until there's only woods, my car jerking onto a dirt road, the trees shading our surroundings from the sun, the ride turning rough on this path few people know about. She should be scared of where we're going, but she just sits quietly, content, as if she's safe with me. As if I would never hurt her. But that's the only thing I know how to do.

I stop suddenly, the hum of the engine idling and waiting. The town line is just ahead.

We could both just start over again. They couldn't possibly kill me for crimes I don't even remember committing. I wouldn't possibly want her as badly as I do now, if the memory of her face is gone. I don't know if she understands where we're at, no spray paint exists on this border, but if she does she makes no indication of it. We could just forget, all of it, all the pain, but there's something that makes me hesitate. Henry. He wasn't part of this curse, no memories of his that were brought from our land. I can't guarantee that if I drive past the line that I wouldn't forget him too. Even though a part of me thinks that any world would be better without the Evil Queen, I'm too selfish to let him go.

The car shifts into park, and the silence is almost too much.

"Are you still leaving?" I ask with a level tone, keeping my eyes forward.

"Yes. Are you going to kill me?" She matches my voice with its air, and I spare a glace over at her, almost rolling my eyes.

"Do I ever? You got into my car. Surely you're not just considering the consequences of that now." There's a fate worse than death and it's just a few feet away.

"I wanted to apologize." Snow starts quietly, and it makes my teeth grind.

"Don't." I can't stand for her to apologize. I never can, because it means so little coming from her. It never changes anything, never fixes what's broken. She still tries none the less.

"Regina, just—The other night—"

"I don't care." My words are getting sharper, cutting her off. She will end up dying today if she keeps talking.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes are full of water, and just like that, just like every time before, those words bring about a rage inside me.

"Shut up." I snap, and she does, looking down guiltily.

The buzzing sound of a cell phone is suddenly heard in the silence that surrounds us. She pulls it out of her pocket, and I look down at it curiously, not able to read who was calling her, but not needing to. Snow silences it, then turns it off, sighing before putting it away. He's looking for her, needing to having his claws in her every moment. I try not to focus on it, but there's nothing else in my head right now. Just the thought of them ruling a kingdom again, exiling me as if I meant nothing. I mean nothing to her, I never did. It was only her trying to escape from me, fighting me every single inch of the way. There's such pain and anger that comes with these thoughts, that I feel it pulsing through my hands as they grip tighter on the steering wheel.

"…me"

She's saying something, but the pulsing is too strong, so I close my eyes and try to focus on her voice. A distraction.

"Look at me. Regina, please." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my head turns towards her, but as soon as our eyes meet, she's kissing me. She knows it keeps me grounded, keeps my thoughts free of her destruction, because if we just focus on this—the pain is almost manageable. My hands peel away from the wheel, and rest on her cheeks despite the dumb sheer idiocy of this. Snow breaks away but stays close, her breath hitting my lips.

"It'll be better won't it?" She asks, her voice broken with emotion and I shut my eyes tight against the sound. "We could just stop, and after a while, it won't hurt like it does now." I move away from her, looking at the tears that have started to fall on her face. "It still will, I know that—but God, anything less than this, and I'll be able to breathe again." She chokes out, her hands wiping quickly at her tears. She waits for me to say something, and I want so badly for her to just leave. To go and never come back, but already I've let her too close, and I know the consequences of that. She never leaves anyway. She lingers, just like always, waiting for me to say something I never will.

Yet, even her presence weakens me. So I look out my window, trying to remember or grasp onto something that will make me not need her as much as I do. Because I do need her. I need her to hurt. But sometimes my past is faded, and tends to blur, so I'm left with the consequences—with an ache, and a thought.

Or a memory.

Or a dream.

They tend to blur—

"Do you remember the night after your father's funeral?" My voice sounds far away, and she doesn't respond. I look at her wide red rimmed eyes, and she looks so much like she did that night. "Do you?" I ask again, keeping my tone soft.

"Of course."

Of course, because memories would be easy to come by for her. They're less clear for me.

But I remember this.

"When I was with you that night…" I look down at Snow's hands resting in her lap. I reach over and grasp at one, breaking my gaze on her, not knowing if I'll be able to say it. My thumb traces the life line on her palm. "That was the first time—"

"The first time you let me touch you. The only time…" She sounds confused of my intent, breath hitching as my grasp loosens to twirl her fingers with my own.

"Do you know why?" I ask absently, watching her pale hand contrast with mine. I see her shake her head out of the corner of my eye.. "Because I didn't think I would see you again. I had the huntsman hired, so I thought; what harm could it do?" I'm opening up to her in a way I've never done before, my monologue externalizing itself as I gently place her hand on my thigh, right above my knee. "You see, I felt for you, more than I've felt for anybody in a very long time." I let go of her, hands back on the steering wheel and my gaze back out the window. Mary's fingers start to trace the hem of my skirt, then inches higher when she receives no protest. "I felt anger, and hate." My grip tightens as I feel short nails trace the inside of my thighs. I open my legs a little and hear her swallow in the small space of the car. Her eyes are burning into me, but I keep mine straight ahead. "But even with that, at least I could feel something—" Her fingers push against the lacy material between my legs, causing my hips to shift forward slightly. "—I felt something with you. That feeling…" She moves the material away, shifting closer to me, and I feel her push past my folds, into wet heat, my eyes closing briefly at the sensation. It's embarrassing and frustrating, how ready I am for her, like a constant state that my physicality endures when she's near. "It's hard to let go of when it's the only thing you have left." I barely rasp out, and out of the corner of her eye I see her eyes go down.

It's weakness, and stupid, and—

Her thumb pushes against a bundle of nerves as she enters me.

Oh my.

I shouldn't let her do this again, let her get this close. It will only make it that much worse when it all goes to hell again. I shouldn't let her get this kind of control, as she moves in and out of me, drawing out strangled breaths from my lungs, hips moving gently to meet her thrusts. My thoughts tend to get clouded when I let her do this. Everything starts to blur. I start to lose things, thoughts and memories, only leaving the sight of her green eyes. I tend to feel a burning in my chest that I only feel with her.

I hate it.

I hate her.

But it's addiction and pain, and the feeling—just the fact that I feel.

I gasp when she turns more toward me, the momentum pushing her deeper. Mary's body is practically on top of mine now, forcing my hands away from the steering wheel where they become trapped at my sides. I feel her breath on my neck, and when I look over at her, our faces are close.

"No matter what," I say with a breathless voice. "No matter how hard he tries, he'll never make you feel the way I do." And what way that is, I don't even know anymore. But whatever way that is, I know I'm right, and so does she.

"I know." Is all I hear before I crash my lips against hers.

Her tongue pushes against my teeth, and I just can't bring myself to care anymore, opening my mouth to her, hands suddenly so desperate to grab at her shoulders. A moan is shared between us when she twists the hand that's breaking me apart. And she's moving slow, too slow, making this feel like torture. My teeth sink into her bottom lip as punishment, causing her to gasp against my mouth. We break the kiss as I wrap my fingers in her hair.

"Faster." It's said as a whispered plea, but she ignores it all the same, moving her lips down my jaw line and resting on my neck. My nerves are firing at the feeling, but too soon, her hand is abandoning the heat between my legs, her body pulling away from me. I start to move forward, trying close the space again, because she can't stop—not now—I know she wants this—she wants me. She can't be this cruel.

Something on her face recognizes the panic rising in mine, so she smiles softly and pushes me back with a kiss, her hand grasping the handle on my seat and causing it to recline with a sudden jerk. She starts to work the buttons of my blouse and I let out a frustrated groan from it. Her fingers slide and slip off the buttons from the moisture they've collected, so I break the kiss to give her more focus.

"Forget the shirt—"

"No." Mary rasps, her lips close to mine. "I need to feel you."

I drop my head on the car seat, and with every button she undoes, the newly exposed skin gets conquered by hungry lips.

"I need to feel you inside me." My voice is so desperate, my skin on fire as she pulls her face back up to glare at me.

"Would it kill you to make this last more than five minutes?"

"It might." Because, God it really might. As it is, our situation is awkward and uncomfortable, not being accustomed to a the tawdry act of sex in my car. But I'm grateful for the limitations that it provides. If we weren't so painfully exposed, and this wasn't rushed in lieu of anyone finding us, then I would never let her leave—I would never leave her. Give me a bed, and I would lie in it and die with her in my arms. I kiss her quick, a smirk lining my lips. "Besides, I doubt you could get me there that fast." My eyebrow arches as she sees it for the challenge that it is.

"Really? That wasn't you clenching around me, as if you were trying to break my fingers?" Her voice is low and deep, and it pulls at my insides like nothing else. Hands are moving over my bra and pushing gently against my breasts, making me practically growl.

"If you don't touch me soon, I will break your fingers." I snap at her, but it only makes her smile. Something as bright as the sun and as contagious as a plague, because I feel my lips pulling out of instinct, and before I know it, I'm smiling back. Because it doesn't matter right now. Right now, this is enough. Snow kisses me slow and deep, and moves her hand back under my skirt, not wasting any more time. Two fingers enter me, stretching me and I buck sharply against her hand. Her pace quickens, but not enough, thumb pushing with just the slightest of pressure against my clit. I pull away from her kiss, because it's getting hard to breathe, the small space of this car is suffocating. I should have taken her somewhere else, taken her to a cabin or below my tomb, and kept her there with me, bury ourselves alive and let them say what they will—she would be mine.

I should have—

She curls her fingers inside me, making me grab her forearm, digging my nails in.

"Do you ache for me, my Queen?" Her whisper is hot against my ear, but all I can do is moan in response, closing my eyes against the sudden tears that sting them. She keeps this pace that leaves me on the edge, my hands moving under her shirt, grasping at skin, pulling and pushing her as lips move to my neck, sucking hard, making my back arch into her. It seems like hours, and she just keeps going with her hand between my thighs, and I wonder briefly, if this is my punishment for all the sins I committed. This eternity of pain and pleasure. If it is, I know I'll be dead before she's done. My body's raw and shaking, and she's pushing deeper and harder, with an expression on her face that's impossible to read.

"You're trying to kill me." I half moan, not really as a statement or a question.

"I can think of worse ways to go." She whispers back, "Like poisoned apples," God, her fingers keep moving, keep pushing, "For instance."

"Do it, if you're going to." The words barely come out, then she pushes her palm hard and firm against me, fingers curling and I start to clench around her hand.

"If I was going to, I would've already." Then she's kissing me as I fall over the edge, waves move through me, muscles tense, and I see stars behind my eyelids. I hold onto her tightly, even as her movements start to slow.

She should have killed me when she had the chance. A scorned princess finally putting an end to the only person who can hurt her, and all this—all this pain would never have happened, and she could be happy. I know better though, because as hard as she tries to fight it, Snow White never really wants to be happy. She chases after me every time I stop chasing after her, needing what I give her, what I can't stop giving her—

She needs the pain, just as I need the infliction.

But nothing hurts right now. In this moment, it's perfect, the way Snow is peppering kisses along my jawline, with hushed compliments of my beauty. My eyes finally open as she slowly pulls her hand out from under my skirt. I loosen my grasp on her when her eyes meet mine, moving one hand under her shirt, letting it settle in the valley between her breasts, fingers bending so my nails drag lightly against the skin of her chest.

"If—" I start before my throat tightens, and I feel her breath catch, then stop all together, waiting for me to say that one thing that I never will. I stop. I have to stop. I shut my eyes tight, before the swell of emotions get too strong, and my hand drops, untangling myself from her altogether.

Now it hurts.

She sighs, and moves away, situating herself back in the passenger seat. The moments over, all that remains is the stale air of self-hating regret. I move my seat back up and work to re-button my blouse, as she watches me, seeing the way my hands are shaking.

There's a long silence between us again, until finally,

"You were going to drive past the town line." Apparently she did know where we were at, her voice calm but small.

"I thought about it." I keep my eyes forward, looking at the wooded distance in front of us.

"What stopped you?"

"Henry." I finally give as an answer, then see her nod slowly out of the corner of my eye. My fingers absently run through my hair, as I clear my throat, then I turn towards her, with a look that was much stronger than I felt. "You should go."

Her eyebrows crease out of confusion as she looks out to the woods, then back at me, her mouth opening to say something, then closing shut.

"Now would be nice." I say with a bit of snark in my voice.

"You're seriously going to make me walk all the way back to town?" Snow replies with an incredulous tone.

"If you start now, you could probably get there before dark." My eyes weigh down on her, letting her know that I was serious. It's better this way, because if I drive into town with her by my side, there would be no doubt of where we were at, or what we were doing. At least this way, she can show up alone and give whatever story she needs to, making them believe whatever she wants, doing what she's so good at doing. Still she doesn't seem to be too happy with this plan, her eyes narrowing at me almost comically as she reaches for the door handle.

"I hate you." She says, her tone biting, but she doesn't mean it. She never does.

"I hate you too." My tone is one that causes her to pause before getting out of the car. As if she thinks I don't mean it this time either, but she's wrong.

Hate is the only thing I feel anymore, and I don't hate anyone as much as I hate Snow White. It's not love, nothing like it. It's just obsession and passion, it's just sex and lust, pain and regret, poison—it's her swimming in my head every moment.

She's the only thing I have left, and I can't let her go.

And we can stop, but we're never done.

A more sane person would see that it's a lot like love. And maybe, if I was able to feel anything close to that, I might be able to let this grudge go. To forgive her and love her in a way that was right and proper. Or at the very least, I could learn not to hate her.

But this hate is the only thing I have left. It's the reason for all this, for my existence and hers.

As she leaves the car I release the breath I was holding, and I know that there are moments, few and far between, but they are there none the less. Moments like this that make me wish,

More than anything,

That I could love her.