TW: Dark themes involving Regina's past marriage to Leopold.
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"We have to stay put," Regina announced, as she clicked the button on her phone to silence Rumple, whose unhelpful suggestions left her feeling aggravated. She and Emma had taken a break that afternoon to focus on their conference call with the Charmings and Rumple.
As usual, the group planning session provided them with nothing more than a basic course of action that she could have figured out all on her own. It used to be a source of relief to have others to depend on, but no one had any constructive ideas about how to banish or defeat the gargoyles. Until Rumple prepared the potion, she and Emma would have to share the cramped, one bedroom cabin and that gave them no excuse to postpone the discussion they'd begun.
Emma pushed her pale fingers against her temples, but will alone was not sufficient in ceasing the throb that had begun to pound mercilessly. The fact that they'd spent all day, quite literally, on and off their phones with everyone to come up with not even the inclination of a plan beyond waiting was frustrating. There were only so many hours the savior could sit around doing nothing before she felt the constraint of her surroundings. Just like she'd felt when she first got into town, and couldn't seem to leave. It felt suffocating. Even the walls were starting to feel like they were pushing in on her, confining her. It brought back memories of prison, of restless nights that made her skin itch until the thought of clawing it off was better than just taking it. What she wouldn't give to open a window and feel the breeze on her face. The air in the cabin was dry and still, and Regina's nervous energy only made it worse.
Regina never envisioned opening up to Emma under such circumstances, but she put on a stiff upper lip in spite of how her eyes wet eyes gave away her distress with a single, sweeping glance at her wife. "Let's use this time wisely."
As her internal struggle began to reach its peak and threatened to spill out in subtle signs of a cold sweat and the ever-increasing short breaths she took, Emma struggled to concentrate.
They tried sitting at opposite ends of the couch, within reach but not quite in the same space, like magnets repelling each other. Regina held in her breath and let it out all at once, then took Emma by the arm and prodded her wife out of the tense position. "This isn't working," she huffed. "Come with me."
The colorful dusk of evening calmed Regina, but she shut the blinds against the oncoming twilight and led Emma to the bedroom in the back of the cabin.
A protest almost slipped past Emma's lips in hiss, and agitation burned brightly within her eyes when Regina gave her a gentle shove onto the bed. But Emma's anger was ephemeral and seeped away as her eyes adjusted to the shadows. There was a comfort to the darkness that the harsh light couldn't grant her and it was only when she succumbed to it that she could almost breathe again.
"No light," Regina whispered. "Not for this."
The heaviness of the conversation to come weighed down on her, and Emma found herself flat on her back without so much as the intention to even lie down. Regina's words pressed down on her even before they were uttered; this instinctual feeling of knowing what this would be about. Emma had never been so grateful for the safety of darkness in all her life, and she'd had plenty of occasions when she'd hidden, growing up. The smallest part of her wanted to speak up, to utter "no" before it was too late, but she knew it was a weakness. A momentary flare of tightening panic entered her chest because she knew, without a doubt, that the horrors her mind had conjured were about to be confirmed. There would be no more hiding from the truths of Regina's past. From the truths of her own bloodline.
Regina was like one of those stacking dolls, one inside the next, with so many different faces and emotions painted on; she let herself experience each hurt, until the smallest part of her was exposed. The atmosphere in the bedroom was restrictive, and too intimate for their situation, yet precisely what was needed. "I… think we should discuss something I've refused to talk to you about in the past," she muttered, the words tasting dry in her mouth. "My first marriage. In a lot of ways, it set precedents for this one that I never expected or considered until now."
Regina pressed a pillow against her chest and took the spot on the opposite side of the bed. "I was eighteen years old when I went to live in your grandfather's castle," she muttered. "I never wanted to marry him, but I had some respect for the man. He did everything for Snow and actually wanted what was best for her… whereas my father stood aside while my mother got what she wanted."
Emma's saliva turned sour on her tongue and she had no choice but to choke it down. There was so much she despised about The Enchanted forest that she'd kept to herself. The idea that someone so young could be given to someone else against her will was disgusting. Regina had been no older than she'd been when she'd had Henry, and even in this world Emma had known she wasn't ready to raise or look after a child, let alone learn to raise someone else's while a kingdom looked on, forever sizing her up for failure, comparing her to someone she couldn't possibly replace. Though in the past Regina never said it outright, Emma could read between the lines. Someone so old, picking someone so young under the guise of a motherly figure for the daughter nearly her own age was sickening. Emma's stomach twisted violently. Regina was young enough to be his daughter. The thought of Regina, so vulnerable and young having to lie there under someone old enough to be her grandfather disturbed Emma all the more because the bastard was her grandfather. In a land of kings where men answered to nobody but themselves and their greed knew no bounds, the desperation Regina must have felt to escape it…
"Your grandfather didn't lay a hand on me during our first year of marriage," Regina stated quietly, as she stared off at a shapeless shadow on the wall. "He came to me on the night of the wedding, but I was so afraid and angry that I cried. He avoided me after that and went away to visit other kingdoms with Snow. It wasn't until a year later, when a rumor spread about my virtue, that his behavior changed." She stuck out her chin as a teardrop fell from her cheek, and she lifted her hand quickly to catch it.
"He told me at nineteen years of age, I was a woman with a woman's needs. He would see to it that those needs were met. So much of that relationship was about control. He sent me to my room like a child when I misbehaved. That's how he wanted everyone in the kingdom to view me—as a little girl he could easily reprimand. He ensured that his people would hate me, and yet I wanted his approval. I wanted everyone to like me, but it became obvious to me that I was nothing in his eyes. He… never looked at me and made me feel human."
Her throat constricted, but she forced herself to swallow and put on a brave face.
"I was somehow less to him, and that is what I did to you." Her voice sounded hollow, but then it was full and deeply grief stricken. "I treated you as less than human – something to be used, silenced, reduced to a state of total ignorance… cut off from the truth. I did the same to Graham, when I forced him to stay with me. I made him an object, a possession. At that time, I acted for different, selfish reasons. With you, I did it to protect myself. And at the end of it all…. killing our child, though I carried it out in a blind panic, was the most callous and self-destructive thing I've ever done. I feared what would happen with our child, yes, but I also wanted complete control over that situation, too – if I was the one to take her life, and ruin our relationship, it was somehow better than waiting for outside forces to take away everything I loved yet again." Her voice was strained and high, and all of the stress lines in her face began to appear from resisting the urge to cry. "I feel… sorry for you, Emma – that you truly love me. I tried so hard to destroy that – to damage what we have beyond repair. Sometimes I feel like I am dangling over a cliff, and you're just… hanging onto me. It would be easier to just let go, but you won't."
"Please," Regina whispered, clutching the pillow tightly. "Don't ever let go. I need you."
Emma listened, barely breathing; though she couldn't justify all of Regina's actions, she couldn't deny what had it happened to her, either. The chances of anyone taking the same dark path were highly likely. In another world, with different rules, what wouldn't Emma do to escape her fate? It saddened her to realize that the selfishness of her grandfather had been passed so effortlessly to Snow, who had saw fit to send her newborn daughter through a tree into a land she knew nothing of with only blind faith that one day Emma would return to save them . No matter how Snow tried to paint it as saving her from the curse, the truth was she'd sent Emma off to save her own ass, but it was only now as she lay in the darkness with her pulse thumping through her veins that she had ever felt truly thankful for it. For Regina actually casting the Dark Curse, because without it, Emma would have been married off to someone too, and her life very well could have been Regina's. "Don't feel sorry for me." The words cracked and stuck in her throat, hardly above a broken whisper as they fought to be heard around the lump in Emma's throat. Her watery eyes slowly leaked to soak into the pillowcase as she stared unblinkingly at the shadows on the ceiling. "I never let her talk about him." The savior exhaled quietly - it wasn't breathy so much as a wheeze. An injured, ghostly sound as Emma's mind whirled. "All these years, I never wanted to hear anything she said, anything good, because all I could think of was Henry's book. Even before the curse broke, the story that involved him turned my stomach. Back then I just saw it as a male fantasy. The old dude gets the beautiful young girl, the misogynistic storytelling trope at its best." The sound of the pillow case rumpling was the only tell that Emma had shaken her head in disgust at herself for being so fucking naïve. The expression on her face was as dark as the forest outside. Had it not been for the brief flickering light of the moon between the trees, the room would have been pitch black. "Then magic was real and I was fighting dragons and I let myself get swept up in it because it was so much easier to bury all that disturbed me under the pretext of fairytale crap. Then things began to change. We began to change. We never spoke about your past with him. It became this thing we couldn't mention, even though we both knew we were thinking about it, neither of us could show we acknowledged it. Like the ghost in the room that followed us around."
Emma wet her lips in an effort to try and collect her thoughts. The slightest twitch of her arm granted the barest brushing of her knuckles against Regina's hand. "Loving you with everything I've got isn't a weakness or a burden, Regina." The savior whispered breathless before she sniffed, and for the first time since they'd lain down together, she turned her head to look at the brunette cloaked in shadows. She tried to find her wife's gaze in the darkness, then held it for a long moment before continuing. "Neither of us are perfect. We're flawed, damaged people with our own weird proclivities, but it's because of what we've gone through that we connect in ways nobody else would understand. I spent almost my entire life resenting my biological parents for giving me away, and even when I found them I still felt like that. Now I realize how lucky I am to have been sent to this world, and if it hadn't been for you, I never would have. Funny how that works, the savior being saved from the life she'd have been forced into by the very person her parents wanted her to save them from…" Emma paused and tried to shrug, but it didn't quite happen since she was on her back. "I'm not going to let go of you, Regina, but you gotta want to hold on just as much. I need you to hold on." She stressed, her fingers finally curling around Regina's to squeeze tightly.
Regina gulped hard on air, suppressing the sob in her chest as her tears ran freely like two dark streaks of dripping paint. She scooted over and wrapped herself into Emma, blankets and all. "Show me how," she whispered fiercely. "I'll do anything for you." Her face was against Emma's and her eyes flashed hotly with determination and then simmered down into soft pleading. She tasted salt on her lips as she kissed Emma and settled into her wife.
The moon winked through the drawn curtain and the gargoyles began a low grumbling, but Regina felt too tired to move and check on the beasts. Her eyelids were heavy and before she could explain her exhaustion, Regina went limp, though her body jerked twice in resistance to the sudden drowsiness.
She concentrated on the warmth of Emma's body next to hers, but the reassuring presence was pulled away from her in the hazy suspension of sleep…
Regina stood in her office and stared down at her desk, where official town documents were laid out alongside her divorce papers. Her inbox was replaced by a hat that belonged to Henry as an infant, with tiny teddy bear ears that had made her son look so precious. She grabbed for the hat, but it was warm liquid on her fingertips.
Blood-hers and her unborn daughter's-coated the lines across her palm, but the sound of a horse snorting and pawing at the ground distracted her from what she felt.
The room was not her office at all, though she still wore her smart business suit with a skirt and heels and she wasn't sure where she was or where she was going.
Saddling the horse took work, but she accomplished it by discarding her suit. She rode into the afternoon sun, and her skirt helpfully changed to an old pair of Emma's jeans that she'd slid into once or twice after they'd first slept together.
Her hair grew spontaneously. She didn't experience it happening, but the familiar weight of it was unmistakable and the way all of her glorious dark curls flew out behind her in the breeze made her grin and laugh in surprise.
The hilltop around her was dotted with vibrant wildflowers, and she recognized Emma standing below the tree where she met him—only no, Emma was not a he.
Emma was not Daniel, and Daniel wasn't Emma, but her heart certainly pounded for Emma in the same way that it did for her first love—all eagerness and excitement rushed through her as she slipped from the saddle and leapt into Emma's arms.
They were back in her office, but Emma still clutched a bouquet of the bright summer flowers and Regina still had to reach on tiptoes as they kissed. She shed her dress easily—when she had put that on? Wasn't she wearing pants?—and let Emma lift her onto the desk.
Emma's mouth was everywhere—against her ear and on her neck, intoxicating and quick, and Regina could feel the shape of Emma's smugness, the way the savior's grin spread out over her skin.
"I love you," she spat out impulsively, and Emma stumbled back, startled by Regina's hasty confession.
They stared at each other distrustingly—Regina with her brow broodingly furrowed, and Emma blank faced and unsure.
Then the rustle of trees around them made Regina forget her momentary discomfort.
The wallpaper came to life then and expanded outward, into the Enchanted Forest.
An overgrown thicket of roses and thorns gave way to the deserted courtyard of the summer palace.
At first glance, the castle was crumbling in places and the untended garden sprawled out all around. The ravages of time wore away the ring of stone that used to circle Regina's apple tree, but when she paused to remember the one spot that was her own, her abandoned home returned to all its former glory.
Without thinking, she strode forward to the gate and went by the guards, along the familiar corridors and into her bedroom.
The sound of an upset little girl drew her to the floor length looking glass, and for a moment, she saw a young Emma sitting inside, but out of reach and defenseless. Emma cradled an injured arm and curled in on herself, whimpering "someone help me."
The longer Regina stared at the mirror, the more the young face changed. It was suddenly still and calm and unmistakably hers - then turbulent again, like water broken on the surface by rocks.
She cried fitfully, whispering to the mirror, "Come back, mother. I'll be good this time. I promise. I'll do whatever you say."
She clutched her mother's spell book and traced her finger over the dark red heart on the ornate cover.
"I can't sleep. Please, mama. Please. I have no one... Don't leave me here—"
"Who are you talking to, wife? Your own reflection? Perhaps your conscience?"
Regina glanced over to see a thick-soled boot on the floor, and her eyes slowly lifted to look up at the King. He removed his rings from his hands and the heavy crown from his head. No doubt that he had been entertaining guests with ale and mutton in the banquet hall, but he never drank much. All of his decisions were made with a sober and sound mind.
"Some day perhaps you will understand that what I do is always for your good and mine. I cannot have anyone in our land doubting your purity, least of all our Snow. It wouldn't do for Snow to overhear the tales of your indiscretions. Snow admires you, and you must set an example for her. How else will she learn to be benevolent and selfless, as all great wives and queens should be? It is the role that women have fulfilled since the beginning of time-the role of mother. You are a beautiful young woman, and I know you once had loving heart. But I fear it grows wicked. It is necessary to correct that wickedness. Come now, wife. I ask you to show me your love and loyalty now. Lie down in bed a while. Let me love you as all men love their wives. Let me give you the gift of motherhood - the gift of my seed in your belly."
Regina pleaded silently with the mirror, and her big wet eyes conveyed all her desperation.
Cora's flickering impression appeared in the polished glass and with a lordly, triumphant grin, watched as the King led Regina to the bed and took off her daughter's nightgown.
"Bend and kneel upon the bed," the king instructed, with his hands falling easily to Regina's hips and bare backside.
Regina placed her palms flat on the mattress and looked away from the unbearable sight of her mother.
"You remind me of your mother sometimes. She, too, had a wild spirit, but a kindly heart. That is why I took you for my wife. I know that women of your kind have an eagerness about them when it comes to the intimate sport. You are eager, aren't you? Look how you raise your backside for me, so that I can provide what is lacking between your legs. My little wife - though I am an old man, I will make you fat and full with child yet. What woman does not want a child? You will be happy when you hold our son in your arms. Then you will have something to be proud of, won't you? Yes, I will give you a son, and then my people will have a reason to love you."
Regina could only grunt as Leopold took his position and began short thrusts. She moved with him, by momentum alone and not by choice-all of her life she was pushed along by someone else's momentum, either her mother's or husband's, and she was like nothing more that a scattered flower blown away by the storms of other people. Her body was so small and no part of her could counteract the force of it. She cried "no" to herself; she had swallowed down the pathetic sob of "no" more often in the last month than she took her meals, but "no" kept coming back up like the stomach sickness.
She had no desire to be anyone's role model, and it was bad enough that Snow clung to her day after day, incessantly demanding her attention. What would it be like with a screaming, wailing child, who would grow inside of her? Would her body ever be her own? First it belonged to her mother to dress and to punish, and now it belonged to her husband. Would her son be next in line? And would anyone in all the lands truly love or appreciate her just because she produced a son?
Regina wanted to be loved. It was all she had ever wanted for as long as she could remember.
But was what the king described actually love, and if it was, why did she want to refuse it?
She was beginning to want power more than she wanted love.
Love would keep her in this spot, underneath a man she loathed. Power would let her go free.
She sensed someone peering down at her—someone who was gentle.
Graham was not far away, holding open the white curtain that hung around Regina's canopy bed.
Leopold no longer stood behind her.
A pack of wolves were sprawled out on the floor, as if her bedroom was their den. Only one wolf remained awake, whimpering softly and licking her wounds. A sheep strode into the room and nudged the wolf, lying down beside it to offer the injured animal comfort.
Graham settled down beside Regina and ran his hand over her smooth back.
"There are only wolves and sheep in the world," Regina muttered. "And you're nothing but a sheep." She sounded critical of him, but she realized that was why she chose Graham-he lived among the wolves and protected them. She was a wolf in need of protection.
"Graham," she said. "I've done something awful. How do I make it right?"
"You need to start by leaving this room, Regina," Graham told her. "You were prisoner here for many years. We both were. I don't want to see you back again." His curls hung unevenly and in his solemn eyes.
Graham clasped her hand and helped her out of bed; they went to the door together and into the daylight. When Regina glanced back, she noticed that the door was red and that she stood on her front porch in Storybrooke.
"The unfortunate thing about being a wolf, metaphorically speaking, is that you feel you must turn others into wolves. Don't turn Emma into a wolf."
"Where is she?" Regina asked, remembering the girl in the mirror, who was cuddled up on a dingy carpet. "Where is Emma?"
"She's here," Graham gestured. "She's waiting for you." He led the way down the lane, where purple flowers raised their heads to observe them curiously. The path to the graveyard was littered with fallen pinecones, and glittery snow, although the leaves on the trees were thick and springtime green.
"Graham, thank you," Regina whispered, placing her hand over his and leaning in to kiss his scratchy cheek. "Please, please forgive me. For what I did to you. I'm so sorry-"
"Apologies mean nothing to the dead," laughed a familiar voice. She recognized the harsh trill, but couldn't match a face to go with it. Her instincts pushed her forward, but her mind lost the thought she had been piecing together.
Regina swung open the door to her mausoleum and went inside the cool, dark space. She found Emma sitting on the stone floor, with her red jacket and a duffel bag.
Not knowing what to do, Regina bent down and began to unpack Emma's bag. "What's in here?" she muttered. "What are you hiding from me?"
"I'm not hiding anything." Emma stated, her voice barely a whisper as she watched the contents of the bag being pulled free.
A deck of cards scattered across the cold stone floor as Regina dropped them, except they weren't cards at all, they were pictures. Each one part of something much bigger; a jigsaw of sorts, completely out of order.
Loose change scattered like thick raindrops splashing, the sound hauntingly clear even as some rolled off and into the darkness beyond, glinting in warning as if they were the eyes of something stalking them. One gold star of authority landed with a thump and Emma reached for it before Regina's fingers had the chance to snatch it up.
"Hey, that's mine." She said with conviction, and stood up to clip the badge onto her pants. Where it should have said Sheriff, the title Savior had been carved into the metal, and her gun was now a sword strapped to her hip.
Regina stuck out her bottom lip in confusion as she dug through Emma's possessions. "But where is it?" she asked in alarm, although she couldn't identify what "it" was or why she thought Emma would be concealing it from her. She located the object at the bottom of Emma's bag - balled up white yarn, with bright purple ribbon and a name embroidered in cursive lettering.
With her head bent, she held Emma's baby blanket to her chest and then sat in the spot where she found her wife. "I thought you were going to leave and take it away." Regina wasn't quite sure that "it" referred to the blanket, but she struggled to name that elusive, sought after thing she wanted. Her thoughts were muddled, lacking all clarity as she reached out to Emma and touched the woman's knee. A low rumbling was providing an obstruction to clear headedness, but the source of the noise seemed far off.
Emma groaned as her bleary eyes opened. One hand reached blindly for her cell phone on the nightstand before it vibrated it's way off the damn thing. Fumbling as she blinked up at the bright screen, the blonde answered with a gruff, "Hello?"
"Finally!" Mary Margaret shrieked, "I've been calling you for the past five minutes, I thought-" A huff of breath was released down the line, "I'm just glad you're alright. Rumple said he should have the potion ready soon, we just wanted to let you know so you can get ready."
The savior winced at the shrillness of her mother's voice and awkwardly sat up. Her brow furrowed as she tried to grasp what was being said but her mind was still foggy from sleep. "Ready for what?"
"Well…" Mary Margaret sighed, her tone conveying her hesitance.
The sound of the phone being grabbed crackled down the line before Rumple's voice rang out dryly, "With the beasts surrounding you, it would be unwise for any of us to venture out there, and without a car you would be stranded, so it's up to you dearie."
Annoyance and frustration bubbled up within Emma and she climbed off the bed to slap at the wall in hopes of hitting the light switch. "Seriously?" She spat, "You want us to run through the forest, at night, and all the way back into town with those things chasing us and expect us not to die?" Emma shook her head in disbelief before insisting incredulously, "You're crazy."
"That's another thing you share with your parents," Rumple drawled slowly, as if talking to an imbecile. "you all have rather thick skulls."
"Hey!" Emma yelled, her jaw snapping shut in anger.
"Magic, Miss Swan. Use it to get to the Sheriff's station, and we'll be waiting."
"Oh." Fuck, right, she could do that now. Emma grimaced and released a heavy breath, "Why there and not your shop?"
"Because if those things are indeed following you, I don't want my things being destroyed."
Regina pushed her ruffled hair away from her face. He restless nap hadn't exactly primed her for a fight, but she rose easily from the bed and peeked through the window at the gargoyles. One of the stone creatures crouched below the sill, grinding out an unpleasant song. "If we get this done before midnight, I'll buy you a drink at Granny's," she offered, turning to look back at Emma.
"If we get this done before midnight, I'll let you buy me the whole bottle." Emma mumbled under her breath, wincing at the pain in her bandaged leg. With perplexed curiosity to see what caught Regina's attention, she peered over the woman's shoulder and curled her lip in disgust at the gargoyle. "Great, one of them's a peeping Tom."
"Concentrate," Regina demanded. She took Emma's hand as if she planned to dance with her, but instead their magic danced, flowing through the air on visible currents. They felt weightless, and all at once too heavy as their feet hit the floor at the Sheriff station.
Mary Margaret practically leapt forward to hug her daughter, while Rumple handed the potion over to Regina.
Regina accepted the vial and eyed it skeptically. "This isn't what we discussed," she murmured.
"It is much better at solving your particular problem," Rumple argued, with his fingers steepled contemplatively. "There are no unfortunate side effects. Emma, if the gargoyles are indeed chasing you, drinking this will obliterate them. If it's not you they're after, then it may strengthen the beasts' resolve to capture and convert their prey. But that will only give us more information."
"More information?" Regina snorted derisively. "Sure, we'll know who their target is after they rip her head off."
The back and forth between Rumple and her wife had Emma frowning, and she stepped between them both as she tried to wrap her mind around the discussion. "Hold on…" The savior murmured, giving Rumple a skeptical glance before turning to face Regina, "Back in the forest, they were definitely after me, they never came near the cabin at all until I was inside it. So…" Emma shrugged lightly, carefully taking the vial from Regina's hand. "While I get why you're concerned, I think the safest bet is they're after me, right? And Rumple said there's no side effects to this, so what's the harm in trying? It's better than standing around arguing about it when we all know those things aren't going to take long to get here."
Mind made up, Emma uncapped the vial and gave a nervous look towards her parents, hoping that their blind faith in 'good always winning' hadn't clouded her judgment and left her stupid. With her head tipped back, Emma let the liquid pool within her mouth, and swallowed it over in one gulp.
An earthshaking roar sent the vial flying into shards, along with the glass from the windows as the gargoyles crumbled into dust where they waited. Regina pulled Emma down behind a desk and protectively held onto her until the wind stopped. She stayed crouched until she saw Rumple get to his feet.
Mary Margaret clutched at her arm, which was covered in a bright ribbon of blood.
"That seemed almost too easy," Regina frowned. She rubbed her hands nervously and picked her way across the mess on the floor.
"I'll have you know that I spent hours slaving away on that potion," Rumple sniffed. He let his fingers hover above Mary Margaret's wound until the skin began to heal, then he gestured for Emma to come forward and began to repair the damage on her leg.
Regina bent down to examine the dirt left by the gargoyles, but thought better of touching it. She instead swept the dust away with her magic and into the trash bin.
David did the honors of taking out the garbage, while Regina rolled up her sleeves and did her best to set the rest of the office back in order.
"So, disaster averted, once again," Mary Margaret chirped, with a cheesy grin.
"I will celebrate by having a night cap and going to bed," Rumple grumbled, sneering in displeasure, in spite of their success. "Let's try to have a quiet week, shall we?"
Rumple strolled out of the station just as David entered, with Ruby and Henry and half the town, who had been cooped up since earlier that day.
Henry stepped forward to question them both and make sure they were unhurt. Regina hardly got a word in edgewise to Emma until much later that night.
They had gone to the diner for drinks and food, and spent an hour on the couch with Henry. Regina zoned out midway through a movie, but blinked back to awareness when Henry leaned down to kiss her cheek and say goodnight. She glanced sidelong at Emma, and then shifted over into Henry's vacant spot. "Are you up for some pillow talk?"
Though Emma had sat quietly through the whole movie, she hadn't been watching it. Lost entirely in her own thoughts about everything that had happened over the course of the day. Gargoyle madness aside, the lingering strangeness from when she'd been so abruptly awakened still left her uneasy. Frown lines deepened across her forehead as she tried to recall the dream, but nothing came back to her. Her hand clutched at a long forgotten beer idly, but as Regina shifted closer, she instinctively sipped it.
"Whatever that potion was, it left a bitter aftertaste." Emma muttered through a sigh, then shrugged, because hell if that was the worst of it she had nothing to complain about. Casually she turned to look at her wife, at the woman that had been through hell, and in turn caused Emma hell. There was so much to say, to talk about, but looking at the weary features and tired, hopeful, shining eyes blinking back at her, all Emma could bring herself to say was, "After the day we just had I think we can handle a little pillow talk, sure."
Everything Regina had shared back in the cabin had been heavy, and it weighed down Emma's shoulders, despite how much she tried to square them. Getting to her feet, she set her beer down on the nearest table then held her hand out to help Regina onto her feet. At the puzzled look from the brunette, Emma added with a slight shrug, "The way I see it, it only counts as pillow talk if we're talking amongst pillows." With what she'd hoped was a soft grin, though in reality was more of a tentative gesture, the blonde made her way upstairs and into the master bedroom.
Once inside, however, there was no bold displays of removing clothing or even the fire of defiance. Emma sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots off, along with her socks, then situated herself on what had naturally become her side of the bed after the first few times they'd slept together all those years ago. The room had changed so much, and yet really, not at all. Funny how that worked. "So, I don't know about you, but I'm almost looking forward to seeing Archie tomorrow." Emma laughed softly, waiting for Regina to get comfortable. "At least the damage to the town was minimum, for once."
Regina folded back the sheets cautiously and slid into place beside Emma.
The tension between them had fluctuated again, and although Regina wanted to lie down and put her head on Emma's chest, she fluffed her pillow instead and tucked it under her neck. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. "You seem… a bit out of sorts this evening. More so than usual after a near death experience."
Regina rested her hand against Emma's back and fleetingly caught her wife's eyes. "It is fortunate we don't have to worry about doing a lot of clean up," she agreed. "We have enough work to do between the two of us. Speaking of which… "
She hesitated, and then boldly shifted over in bed, to the spot she truly wanted to occupy—she nestled into Emma and lifted her chin to lock lips with her wife. "Thank you for listening earlier."
"I'm fine." Emma said absently, running her thumb across her badge methodically. perhaps it was the way the light hit it, or the shadow of her finger, but for a second she swore it said something other than Sheriff. "Just tired." She added, slapping the gold star atop the bedside cabinet. "I imagine you are too."
The mention of work had Emma nodding, though there was no quick witted quip to defuse the pressure of such a truthful statement. Only the soft warmth of Regina's hand, keeping her steady, anchoring her to the moment. "Hm?" Emma hummed quietly, turning just in time to watch her wife close the distance between them.
One golden eyebrow raised in question, though nothing left her lips except a soft exhale of breath before the delicate caress of Regina's mouth against hers. It was soft and unexpected, something Regina was giving to her rather than taking from her, and just as quickly as it had begun, it was over, leaving behind the ghostly sensation of warmth that rapidly vanished until it was nothing but a memory. "Thank you for sharing." Emma whispered back, her curious green eyes searching Regina's features as if she'd only met her today.
Regina's hand mapped the contours of Emma's back, traveling the same path over and over until her eyelids drooped in fatigue. She sought the spot on Emma's neck where her wife applied cologne and breathed in deeply; she was immensely grateful for the relief the light scent provided, and the way her whole body relaxed when she was near Emma. "Kissing you…is like looking at the stars." It left her full of wonder.
"Shh, sleep." Emma whispered softly, her hand slowly stroking along the length of her wife's arm until she felt the shift of weight, the slightly increased pressure against her side. Warm, even, puffs of breath ghosted against her neck and she knew, without a doubt, that Regina had managed to drift into slumber. Emma stayed perfectly still for an entire half hour, ensuring the brunette would sleep soundly, before shifting carefully to free herself.
Her fingers trailed across her badge on the nightstand while her eyes glanced towards her gun, but neither were picked up as she stepped, barefooted, into the hallway. No sound was made as she walked from room to room, checking windows and glancing into the large gardens.
Logically, of course, Emma knew that the Gargoyles were gone, but that didn't remove the heavy unease she felt running through her veins. Fueling her from room to room and back again, until the first crack of light began at the horizon and streaked the night sky with the promise of a new day. Restless and exhausted, Emma finally slipped out of her clothes, and under the sheets to join her wife in sleep.