A/N: Omg! I have thought of an actual storyline for this! How exciting (for me) haha! Hope you enjoy, sorry this is sort of more filler chapter than storyline, but now I know where I want this to go, I need to set everything up :) Also, someone suggested I clarify on this- YES this is a SQ fic, there will be some angst and storyline involving Hook, but no this will never be even remotely CS, at least not in Emma's eyes, and YES, SQ will be endgame in this so far as I know now :) Please review! Thanks for reading!
As both women had discussed previously, it seems that dawn is something the island is lacking in; the ominous darkness of the place all-consuming and relentless. Still, at around this time in other lands, the Mayor stirs from her slumber as her dreaming has weakened the hold of the encompassing charm she'd cast over the tent, and the heavy sound of rain beats an idiot rhythm against the canvas. She can smell the dampness, but also something else, and after a moment's confusion with her lashes adamantly clamped shut, she recognises that faint scent as belonging to the Sheriff's- that hateful Swan woman's- shampoo.
"Oh god."
She murmurs with slow recollection of where they are and what had come to pass between them the previous evening, and she opens one eye apprehensively to be met with a mass of tousled curls tumbling over pale features that look an awful lot more serene than she has ever witnessed them to be during waking hours. It's almost endearing in fact... The way dusky lashes cast shadow over high cheekbones speckled here and there with freckles she's never really noticed before.
Almost.
Not that she's about to allow such thoughts. Dark eyes flashing to the small nick above the younger woman's eye, she reminds herself that the little scar there is of her own doing and that she had found great pleasure in that fact.
Had, in fact, felt a whole lot better about the unfortunate way things had ended with Graham when she had next run into an- inappropriately!- grief stricken Deputy Swan to find the woman sporting a healthy cut beneath her brow that she'd eventually put down to the simple ring worn on her right hand.
You deserved that...
She tries to tell herself now, but, she is distressed to find that she can no longer channel the dark hatred that had consumed her for so long, and instead simply finds herself musing over pale features with amiable interest. She recalls Emma grumbling at her the previous day when she'd held up the tube of lipstick from her coat, but supposes that of all of them- despite her rather bedraggled appearance, mostly due to her idiotic dip in the ocean- Emma is perhaps best suited to the way they currently live. The younger woman forgoes makeup almost as often as she adds- rather jarring- black liner to her eyes back home, and she now looks much the same as usual, whereas the Mayor and Snow have met each new day on the island with a slightly more noticeably unkempt appearance.
Shivering against the cold of the unfavourable weather, Regina finds it to be uncomfortably belated when it finally occurs to her to wrinkle her nose with displeasure as she realises that the Sheriff once more lies curled up against her. She supposes this must be why the scent of her shampoo had been noticeable; most of that familiar almond and honey washed away by salt water and several days of abuse. She-
What?!
Tensing up- startled- as she catches the faint rustling of one of the others moving around in their tent, she holds her breath, before waiting out the following silence and deducing the noise to have been one made in sleep.
Still...
She's not about to cut things so close, and she shakes the blonde curled up against her firmly.
Firmly... But not with the roughness she might once have used when dealing with the Sheriff, and when Emma mumbles something inaudible and frowns with the confusion of one stuck between dreams and reality, Regina addresses the blonde softly.
"You have to get up, Miss Swan. You can't be in here when the others wake up."
She braces herself for a barrage of irritable offence at this statement, before Emma reminds her that, where she herself has a hard time simply allowing another person in as it were, the blonde views the act- and scenarios from which gossip might ensue- with about as much appreciation as she might have for a flesh eating disease.
"Shit."
Emma grunts, rubbing her eyes, and Regina smirks as she supposes she should at least offer credit where it's due to the younger woman for not making this into some terribly contrived 'morning after' situation.
"I have to pee so bad."
"Charming. Now get out."
She orders airily before turning to face the back of the tent and closing her eyes once more.
No, definitely not one for an emotional breakdown over unprecedented events...
She concludes, and she likes this just fine. Pulling the covers up over her head as she listens to the soft pad of Emma's boots sounding through wet mud, she suffers a brief moment's consideration for the fact that she is sending the Sheriff off to go sit- and relieve herself apparently; thanks for that, dear- in the rain, before deciding that thinking about such things is simply a step too far.
"Let her damn parents worry about that!"
She mutters, deeming her own rather alarming show of charity last night to satisfy any needs for compassion for the next couple of years or so.
Still... It was warm in the end...
Yes, and, truth be told, she's begrudgingly a little relieved she'd found Emma lying out in the mud when she had done. She doesn't believe the blonde would have been idiotic enough to remain out in the open in the pounding rain, but she also doubts the Sheriff would have dared come to her for help.
She fears this thought displeases her more than it should.
"Life was so much simpler when I just wanted her dead."
She grumbles to herself; feeling the shroud of the sandman beginning to take over once more and expelling the younger woman from her thoughts.
"Hey, are you awake?"
Emma whispers in a decidedly unhushed voice, and Mary Margaret furrows her brow before opening one eye blearily to regard the blonde.
"Emma?"
Snow croaks, and the younger woman smiles- feeling a small amount of guilt and awkwardness for the immediate veil of concern that finds pale features- before holding a finger to her lips as she glances pointedly towards David who sleeps soundly beside her mother.
"Yeah. Morning."
"Is it?"
Snow asks in a tone of disbelief, and the Sheriff shrugs awkwardly as she remains lent into the comfort of the tent with her backside out in the rain. She feels a little weird creeping into the Charming's tent like a little kid in need of assistance, but she reminds herself that Snow is also Mary Margaret, and that the two of them had spent the best part of a year obliviously sharing all manner of tales and secrets before the 'm' word had been dropped. They are good friends as well as mother and daughter, and she clings to this fact hopefully as she doesn't think it could be considered all that strange to want to drag your nearest and dearest in to share your shit with you.
"It's hard to tell the time, but it's cold. We should get some wood for the fire."
The blonde reasons, and Mary Margaret nods in surprise as it is a rare occasion that Emma is up before she is.
"Yeah, okay, I suppose that might be a good-... Wait... Emma, it's pouring! We can't make a fire!"
She frowns as she catches the telling sound of the rain and peeks past the younger woman into the dismal grey of the clearing.
"Well, not right now, but if we get the wood then-"
"-I'm not going out into that, no way! And what are you doing up and out there? Couldn't you sleep?"
"... Not really."
Emma confides; inwardly rather relieved that the question of where she might have tried sleeping hasn't come up.
"Well, come in, come in, you're letting the heat out and getting all wet."
Snow grumbles, and the blonde grins uncomfortably as she positions herself awkwardly at the edge of another's tent for the second time in the last few hours.
"Oh, get in here!"
The schoolteacher sighs; tugging at her housemate, daughter, friend, and pulling the blonde down to lie beside her beneath the shelter of the canvas stretched up over them.
"Mary Margaret..."
Emma grumbles, but she is secretly relieved that the paler woman has invited her in without having to be asked, however awkward she might feel lying three in a cosy row with Snow White and Prince Charming.
AKA; mom and dad...
Her mind throws up, before she tells it quite firmly where and how to go fuck itself.
"You're soaking."
Mary Margaret frowns as she pulls her side of the blanket up over the blonde with some difficulty, and the younger woman shrugs disinterestedly as she strives to relax.
"Just my butt."
She corrects the school teacher matter-of-factly, and Snow snickers sleepily as she closes her eyes and places a tentative hand over the younger woman's forearm.
"Are you worried? Is that why you can't sleep, Emma?"
She asks quietly, and the blonde considers this question uncomfortably- wondering how to respond- before catching the tellingly even sighs of her mother's breath as the older woman loses touch with the world and disappears into whatever dreamland awaits her.
"Kind of."
Emma whispers, and she finds that now she thinks on it, this is true; her dream suddenly coming back to her and causing her to shiver nervously.
Little Fawn...
"No."
She informs the silence firmly, before closing her eyes and simply accepting that sleep probably isn't on the cards for her anymore.
Just you fucking wait 'til I get my hands on you, Pan...
It isn't until quite a lot later that things get up and going in the camp, and any concern either Emma or Regina might have had as to lingering awkwardness between them is put to rest as both are on side when it comes to snapping at the others that they need to get moving.
The anguished cry of "where to?!" this demand is met with only serving to stoke the fire and rally the two together.
"You can't just keep marching around the island. It's what Pan wants and it will do you no good. This is a game to him, and the longer you fall into his traps and provide entertainment, the longer it's going to be before you see your boy again."
Tinkerbell huffs as Regina barks at her for what feels like the hundredth time that the fairy should make good on her offer to help. At first, when they'd huddled up in the damp, she'd attempted to keep her tone polite- reminding herself over and over of her precarious position within this rather queer and heated group- but, there are only so many times she feels she can be spoken to the way the two women sat across from her are doing now.
"Well, then what do we do?!"
Emma cries; throwing her hands up in exasperation, before turning to the pirate and snapping irritably.
"Why don't you have any ideas? You've dealt with Pan before! Why don't-"
"-If I had a plan, I'd share it, Swan. You're the one who spoke to him, why don't you know anything more after enduring that pleasant encounter?"
Hook growls angrily, and the others glance up at him curiously as it is unlike the pirate to speak to Emma in such a way.
"I figured out how to use the map, didn't I?! I-"
"-Guys... Come on. Bickering isn't going to solve anything."
David appeals as he senses tension turning to anger.
"You'd be surprised... Apparently it does wonders."
Hook mutters, and Charming throws him a confused glance as he decides everyone needs to take a step back and relax.
"Look, we're all hungry, tired and running out of ideas. Tink, can you try reading the map again? Regina, do you think you could try and sort out some food somehow? Is that possible? Hook, you and I will go scouting for lack of anything better to do. Snow, you stay with Tinkerbell in case she needs help. Emma, you-"
"-I'm going to scout, too."
The blonde informs him firmly and Charming sighs and tells her it's up to her.
"Fine. Well, then whoever's back first can try and find some more firewood... For now, we just have to do what we can."
An audible huff from the left of the camp, and Emma glances up to catch Regina's eye; imaging her own expression reads exactly the same as the brunette's:
What if that's not enough...
"Hey!"
Emma growls as leaves and twigs crunch in the shadows around her, and she unsheathes her sword swiftly; adopting a combative stance.
"It's just me, Swan."
"Hook."
The blonde sighs in relief, before brandishing her blade irritably towards the pirate as he saunters into view and leans against one of the stunted trees that play their backdrop.
"What are you doing sneaking up on me, anyway? You think that shit's funny?"
"No."
The pirate shrugs, and the Sheriff shakes her head as she re-sheathes her weapon and stands with hands placed vexedly on her hips.
"Well, then why didn't you-"
"-I just came to see if you needed help, that's all."
"Oh... Well... You can take some of these sticks back to camp I guess."
Emma suggests; cocking her jaw towards the mound of vaguely dry branches she's retrieved from beneath surrounding thickets and coves.
"What, no please? No sweetness for my aid?"
"What?"
The Sheriff snaps distractedly as she piles several of the gnarled branches into her own arms. Looking up, disgruntled, she narrows her eyes as she regards Hook a little more closely.
"Are you drunk?!"
"What's it to you?"
"Well, I... What the hell is with you today?"
Emma demands, dropping the load she carries and taking a step further into the shadows to address the pirate.