Chapter 21

It was obvious that Regina really was furious, because silence followed their seminar. Emma was too stubborn to be the one to cave, so she spent her days angrily studying and writing essays and absolutely not checking her phone for messages every 15 seconds. She spent her evenings staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom trying to remember the last time Regina had kissed her.

Even in her other classes, it was hard to concentrate. She should have been clinging onto her professors' every word as they guided her through what she needed to study for their distant but still upcoming finals, but Emma's mind was elsewhere. Any time she saw a head of dark hair she jumped slightly, like she was expecting Regina to have infiltrated her European Literature lecture just to stare at her until she fell apart.

She shook her head and looked back down at her notes from the lecture she was currently sitting in. So far, all she'd managed to write was Dante's Inferno at the top of the page. She'd been there 15 minutes.

She hated Regina for just how vividly she was swirling around inside her head, but more than that, she missed her. She missed her a lot. She was starting to realise that she didn't actually have any other friends – not when she was still wary around Mulan and deeply uncomfortable around Killian – and she wished she could curl up against Regina's side and complain about this whole situation with her.

She wondered who would be the first to crack.

Right at that second, the door at the front of the lecture hall opened. A woman with grey hair walked in. Emma had never seen her before, but there was a stern look on her face and an unimpressed downward curve to her mouth. Emma's body instantly went cold.

The woman approached the professor and quietly said something to him. After a beat, he looked up and called out, "Emma Swan?"

Emma froze. The professor was peering around the packed theatre.

"Is there an Emma Swan in here?"

She slowly raised her hand. The dread that had been piling up inside her for the past two weeks broke like a dam.

"You're needed in the main office," he said, gesturing to the woman who'd just arrived. "Email me later and I'll send you the notes."

Emma nodded tersely and gathered up her things. The woman stood to one side waiting for her, like she was expecting her to run away.

As Emma trailed behind her on their way across campus, she wondered whether she should try and text Regina. She had to warn her – maybe she was about to be called out of a class of her own. She pulled out her phone and opened up her messages with a shaking hand, then glanced up to find the woman looking over her shoulder at her. She didn't say anything, but her expression did.

Swallowing hard, Emma slipped the phone back into her pocket.

The college's main offices were all contained in an enormous redbrick building with long, wide corridors and tiled floors that made everywhere feel cold. Emma had only been in there once before, when she'd been pleading for a last-minute change of class during her freshman year, and she hadn't liked it very much at the time. Now, as she trailed behind a stiff-backed woman whose grey hair was looking more imposing with every minute, she thought she might vomit into one of the potted plants.

They made their way up several sets of stairs and down an eerily quiet corridor. Emma clutched hold of her books with shaking hands.

The dean of faculties' office was straight ahead. Emma had already known that that's where they were headed, but seeing the imposing bronze plaque outside the double wood doors made her stomach twist like a wet dish towel.

She hoped that she'd be made to sit outside for a while, giving her time to get her story straight, but the woman accompanying her knocked straight on the door. A voice from inside told them to enter, and Emma stumbled over the threshold. At the very, very least, she was relieved to see that Regina wasn't there.

Emma hadn't seen Mr Gold since they'd run into him in Newport. Sitting behind his enormous desk, his cane leaning against the bookshelves behind him, he somehow looked smaller and scarier at the same time.

His teeth were sharp and crooked when he smiled at her.

"Miss Swan," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat opposite him. "Thank you for coming in."

Emma shakily sat down, placing her books on the tops of her thighs.

When she didn't reply, Mr Gold asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I'm… uh," Emma said, pausing to collect herself. "I'm good, thanks."

"Very well," Mr Gold said, picking up a pen and bridging it between his index fingers. "Do you know why you're here today?"

With a nonplussed expression that she'd been mentally practicing for the past five minutes, Emma said, "Sorry. No."

"Care to venture a guess?"

"Well, I'm really hoping you're not about to tell me that I'm missing a load of credits and need to retake the whole year," Emma said. Mr Gold chuckled.

"Thankfully not," he said. The way he spoke so softly made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "I've had a brief look at your academic history and it appears… just fine."

Ignoring what she was certain was a veiled insult there, Emma forced a smile.

"That's good to hear. Can I ask what this meeting is about, then?"

Mr Gold paused to place his pen back on the desk.

"Are you aware of the college's policy on student-teacher relationships, Miss Swan?"

Emma was all too aware of it. She'd spent hours trawling through the code of conduct on the website.

She forced herself to look blankly back at him. "No. Should I be?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I have reason to believe that you should."

Emma's heart had started pounding so furiously that she could feel her body trembling from the force of it, but she forced herself to wrinkle her forehead. "Sorry – I'm totally lost."

Mr Gold's grey eyes went hard.

"You have a weekly seminar with Professor Mills. Is that correct?"

Panic clunked down inside her. "Yeah. On Thursdays."

"And how do you find those classes?"

"They're… fine," she said, then paused. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not really that interested in classics."

"No? Why's that?"

"I don't know – it's just not my favourite area. I won't be taking it again next year."

"Not even if Professor Mills was still going to be your teacher?" Mr Gold asked, his voice too cool, too expressionless. "I've been led to believe that she's a very inspiring lecturer."

Emma thought back to what Regina had said about how no one had offered her a job for the coming year yet, and she had to physically bite back a question about whether Gold was planning to do exactly that.

"She's very good," she said slowly. "I like her classes."

"More than your other classes?"

"Probably not. Like I said, I'm not really into classics."

"Hm," Mr Gold said, obviously unimpressed with this answer. He didn't blink anywhere near as much as Emma wished he would. "Tell me about your relationship with Professor Mills."

Emma instantly felt like someone had grabbed her throat and started choking her.

"Um," she started, hoping she sounded confused rather than terrified. "I wouldn't say I really have one?"

"No?"

"No. I mean, she's my professor and occasionally we'll talk about my essays and stuff, but otherwise I don't really know her."

"How often do you talk about your essays? And 'stuff'?" Mr Gold asked.

"I don't know. Every few weeks."

"Do you struggle with them?"

"Sometimes. Classics really isn't my best subject."

"And does Professor Mills help you with them?"

"She… gives me advice and feedback, yeah."

"I see. Does she give you anything else?"

Emma swallowed. "Anything else…?"

"Any other kind of support. Anything that might be deemed inappropriate by the college."

They'd finally reached the heart of the matter, and Emma had to force herself to ask the next question with a straight face. "I'm sorry. What are you implying?"

He smiled coldly. "It's a simple question."

It was anything but simple. Mr Gold's gaze was scrabbling over her face like rat's claws.

"No," Emma said simply. "She's been nothing but professional with me."

"During class?"

"Yes."

"And during office hours?"

"Yes."

"What about outside of class?"

"I don't…" Emma started, pausing to swallow the spit that had suddenly flooded her mouth. "I don't know what you mean. I don't see her outside of class."

"What about when you were in her locked office together two weeks ago?"

Terror clanged inside Emma's chest like someone clapping two trashcan lids together. "We were just talking."

"About?"

She took a deep breath. "It's personal."

"I see. I thought you said that you don't really know her?"

"I don't," Emma replied. "I went to discuss some class work with her. I was upset about something, and she noticed and asked if she could help. We were talking about that when Dr Hopper walked in – which I'm assuming is why you're asking all these questions."

Mr Gold's next smile was much crueller. "Indeed. Could you explain why the door was locked?"

Clang. Another throb of panic.

"I don't know," Emma sighed, pretending to be impatient. "I think she got up to lock it once she realised I was upset."

"How considerate of her. Did that make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No – why would it?"

"Well. Because you were locked in a room with a professor who, by your own admission, you hardly know. It would be reasonable to find the situation distressing."

Emma glared at him before she could stop herself. "Generally speaking, women don't feel threatened by other women. Especially not when the other woman is being considerate and just trying to help."

It was truly upsetting to see just how disappointed Gold looked at that. He smiled tightly back at her.

"That's good to hear. We certainly wouldn't want her behaviour toward you to be in any way inappropriate."

"It's not," Emma said shortly. "Look, am I in trouble for something?"

"No, Miss Swan. We're simply trying to get to the bottom of the situation."

"And what situation is that?"

"We need to know what the true nature of your relationship with Professor Mills is."

Emma had been waiting for that sentence since she'd walked in the door. "Just that – she's my professor."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"Do all of your professors make close physical contact with you in the way that Dr Hopper witnessed?"

Emma didn't bother to deny it, because she already knew her word would mean nothing compared with that of the college's esteemed goody-two-shoes classics professor.

"No," she replied. "Like I said – I was upset and Professor Mills was comforting me. I guess it could have looked weird to Dr Hopper because he walked in really suddenly, but that's all it was."

"I see," Mr Gold sighed like he was genuinely sorry. "The problem is, though, that we've already spoken to Professor Mills about this, and her story doesn't match yours."

Emma's heart physically halted. Mr Gold was watching her carefully.

In a brief flash of clarity, Emma thought about what he'd just said – Regina was mad at her right then, sure. She wasn't speaking to her. But if she'd been called into the dean's office to discuss her potentially career-ruining relationship with a student, wouldn't she have called Emma to warn her?

Yes, she would have. Emma knew her well enough to be sure of that.

She wrinkled her nose in faux confusion. "I don't know what you want me to say to that. I've told you the truth about what happened – can I ask what she said about it?"

"That's confidential," Mr Gold replied, just like she knew he would. "Perhaps it would be helpful for you to tell me exactly what your conversation was about – that might help clear up your story."

"That's also confidential," Emma replied. "I told you – we were discussing something personal. I was upset. I have to assume Professor Mills told you something different because she was respecting my privacy and didn't want to repeat any of my problems to you."

When Mr Gold's eyes narrowed, she knew she had him. He couldn't argue with that.

"I see," he repeated. "I suppose that may well be the case."

He went silent, like he was waiting for Emma to cave and give him some more. She watched him flatly, not saying a word.

"And you're certain that Professor Mills hasn't acted inappropriately toward you in any way?"

"I'm positive. She's been nothing but professional."

"Apart from the physical contact," Mr Gold interjected.

"The physical contact wasn't inappropriate. I wasn't uncomfortable," Emma said through gritted teeth. "It made me feel like she was listening to me, and like she cared. If anything, I think she should be rewarded for that, not subjected to some kind of witch hunt."

"This isn't a witch hunt, Miss Swan. We're just looking out for the wellbeing of our students."

"I appreciate that, but I'm just fine. You don't need to worry about anything."

She recognised the silence that followed. It wasn't quite a checkmate, but it was close.

Mr Gold nodded coldly and sat back in his chair, his pen lying uselessly before him.

"Very well," he said. "Then I suppose we're done here. Unless you'd like to discuss anything else?"

"Nope," Emma said, the invisible grip on her throat finally starting to loosen. "I'm good."

"Alright. Thank you for your time, then, Miss Swan. Good luck with the rest of the semester."

Emma nodded sharply and headed for the door. As soon as she was outside, she all but ran away from the office.

She ducked down the nearest corridor, then another, then charged down the stairs and out into the courtyard. She walked slightly slower once she was out there in case anyone was watching from the window, but as soon as she was back in the Arts building, she sprinted for the nearest bathroom.

After kicking open every stall to check they were empty, she dove into the one furthest from the door and grabbed her phone.

Regina didn't pick up, of course. Emma knew she wouldn't, but it still made her growl with frustration.

"Regina," she hissed once her voicemail message had ended. "I got called in to speak to Mr Gold. He was asking about us. He tried to act like he'd already spoken to you but I think he was just bullshitting to try and trip me up – I lied to him and I'm freaking out. I need to talk to you. Please."

She hung up and let out a shaky breath. Leaning back against the cubicle wall, she closed her eyes and waited.

Her phone rang two minutes later.

"Hey," she said as she answered it. Before Regina even spoke, Emma could sense her panic.

"What happened?" she asked. "Are you still with him? Are you okay?"

The question made Emma's frantic heart rate finally slow down.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just shaken up. I'm locked in a bathroom."

Regina released an unsteady breath that made Emma's heart squeeze.

"Emma," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have seen this coming."

"He didn't talk to you, did he?"

"Of course he didn't," Regina snapped, but it was obvious that her anger wasn't aimed at Emma herself. "That weasel. Of course he would try and trick you – he's always been a greasy little imp."

"I hope I didn't mess up," Emma said, pressing a hand against her forehead. "I told him that I went to you to talk about an assignment and I was upset about something personal and you were comforting me. It was all I could think of – I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologise," Regina said. For the first time in weeks, there was some warmth in her voice. "You got jumped on and you handled it as well as you possibly could. I'm just so sorry this happened."

"What are you going to do if he calls you in?"

"Well," Regina said. Emma heard the faint clatter of her taking her glasses off and placing them on her desk. "I have a story to follow now, which is good. Did you tell him what personal problems we were discussing?"

"No. I told him it was private and that's probably why our supposed stories didn't match up – because you didn't want to betray my confidence."

There was a pause before Regina softly said, "You're so smart."

"I'm really not. If I was smart, I wouldn't have gotten you in trouble in the first place."

Regina groaned. "We both did this. It wasn't just you." After a long, painful pause, she said, "I'm… I'm sorry for blaming you. That wasn't fair."

The apology was welcome, but also lacking something important.

"And?" Emma prompted.

Another pause. "And I'm sorry for refusing to talk to you."

"You didn't just refuse to talk to me. You totally cut me out of your life."

"I know."

"You need to stop doing that, Regina."

"I know."

"Do you? Because it feels like we keep going round in circles with this. If you're upset then you need to talk to me – not start pointless arguments in the middle of classics seminars."

"I didn't start that," Regina immediately protested, before stopping herself with a sharp inhale of breath. "I handled it badly. I'm sorry. You're right, okay? Don't make me say it again."

"You've barely said it once," Emma pointed out, but then she backed off. "Do you not trust me, or something?"

"Of course not," Regina said quickly. It was vaguely reassuring, except for the fact that Emma was already remembering all the times Regina had pulled back from her and refused to share what was bothering her.

When Emma remained silent, Regina forced herself to continue. "That's not it at all. It's just… I've been alone for a long time. I went from not having to worry about anyone to having to worry about a lot, and it overwhelms me sometimes. Occasionally I miss the days when I went back home by myself and didn't have to think about anything except myself."

Hurt pulled at Emma's heart, but she still understood. "I get it. But you don't—?"

"I really do mean occasionally," Regina interrupted before she could ask the question. "I promise – 99 percent of the time, I'm unbelievably happy with you. Please don't think that I'd rather be without you."

Emma smiled wretchedly. "It's kind of hard not to think that when you're refusing to answer my calls or talk to me about the stuff that's bothering you."

"I know," Regina said yet again. "I was being a coward. I'm sorry."

That apology rang truer than the others, and Emma finally relaxed.

"It's going to be okay."

"Is it?" Regina asked. It sounded like she was trying to smile. "I'm not so sure."

"Maybe," Emma said weakly. "Gold can't do anything if our stories match, and all he's got is Dr Hopper's word that he saw something a little weird. He didn't walk in on me mounting you."

Finally, Regina laughed. "Even if he had, I'm sure you'd manage to talk your way out of it."

"Probably. I'm wily as hell."

Regina chuckled again, and for a moment they were quiet. Then Regina softly said, "I think I need some time to get through this, Emma."

"I know," Emma sighed. "I get that. Just… If I text you, can you at least reply?"

"Okay."

"And can you tell me if you get dragged into his office?"

"Of course I will. I'll probably call you in tears," Regina replied. She was trying to joke, but the words felt hollow.

Emma pressed her hand against her forehead and said, "You'll be okay. And hey, feel free to make up any kind of humiliating shit that I might have been telling you in case that helps your story."

Regina laughed gently. "Thank you – I'll tell them something so ridiculous and embarrassing that they're too uncomfortable to question me further."

"Genius," Emma said. After a beat, she added, "Regina, are we okay?"

There was a soft exhale of breath from down the line.

"I think so. I hope so."

"You just need some space?"

"Yes, please. If that's okay."

"Of course," Emma said, though she didn't mean it. Her stomach was hurting. "I guess this will give me some time to actually study for my other classes."

"That's certainly a plus."

They went quiet again, and before she could stop herself, Emma was blurting out, "I miss you, you know."

Regina sighed. "I miss you too. Really. I'm just…" There was a long pause before she finally finished her sentence with, "…scared."

"Being scared with me might make it easier."

"It won't, because the second I'm around you I lose all good sense. It'll only be five minutes before someone else catches us doing something we shouldn't."

Emma knew she had a point, but it hurt to admit it. "I should go."

"Alright. Thank you," Regina added, her voice suddenly urgent. "For calling me."

"Thanks for finally calling me back," Emma joked. She felt Regina smile.

"Don't be cheeky. Now go – I have things to do."

"Okay. Bye, Regina."

"Goodbye, Emma."

Emma hung up the phone with a lump in her throat. In spite of what Regina had told her, she wondered why the end of that call had felt so much like the end of something else.