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Emma turns the volume up a bit higher still. The music never did seem loud enough and certainly the small selection she had put on her ipod was in need for some dire reinforcements. This was the third time she had heard this particular guy shout at the top of his lungs about money and power. Frankly it was all getting a bit tiring too. Then again she would have to axe half of the other songs in her collection, because they mostly revolved around lost loves and broken hearts. Which just hit a little too close to home.
Even if it has been over a week now.
She rounds another bend and slows her running to a more comfortable pace. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst soon anyhow and she can spot the parking lot through the trees and underbrush lining the track. Emma glances at her watch and lets out a groan in between her pants, it was early still. Too early. She hadn't thought of what to do with the rest of her day yet.
Wiping some beads of sweat away from her forehead, she almost doesn't see the person that's leaning against her beloved bug. Almost. Immediately she slams on the brakes and stops to a dead halt, though she's too far away from the tree-line now and directly in her mother's line of sight.
Well fuck.
Her eyes flick from the track behind her to the car and she's about to turn around and make a quick run for it when Mary Margaret launches herself away from the vehicle; tilting her head to look right at her.
So much for that idea. That and she's currently at the receiving end of a stern look that didn't seem too promising, all things considered. Never mind that she had brushed off her parents' requests to see her for the better part of the week. Or the fact she'd had her father cover for her at the station, citing health-reasons as a viable excuse. Being caught red-handed while out running instead of sleeping off her supposed sickness made her feel like a naughty teenager playing hooky all of a sudden.
"Mary Margaret, hi," she greets her mother as she slowly walks over to her, unplugging the headphones and stuffing them into her pocket. There are a million different reasons going through her head, of why her mother could be here and subsequently she thinks of a million different ways to brush her off at the same time.
"Emma," her mother greets in turn, pausing for a moment before fixing her brown eyes right on Emma's own."You look surprisingly well."
It wasn't the words that made Emma cringe. It was the way they were said in combination with the set of narrowed eyes that seemed to peer right into her very soul. She knew she had been busted of course, but her mother's voice had also been laced with a tinge of disappointment. A twinge of guilt curled around in her chest. It wasn't so long ago that her parents had told her that Emma could always talk to them about anything. And though she had been tempted, especially the past few days in particular, to drive over to them and pour her heart out, she had never gone through with it in the end. What the hell was she supposed to say anyway? Because she certainly couldn't tell them what happened. Mainly because she didn't have a clue herself what the hell had happened. And now everything was so royally screwed up and her mother was looking at her in such a disapproving way that her stomach twisted itself into knots in response.
Sighing, Emma licked her dry lips and fished for the car keys in her pocket. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you aren't here to cheer me on while I'm running," she mutters as she grabs a water-bottle from the depths of the cooler she had put in her car's trunk.
"No I'm not, I think you know why I'm here Emma," Snow says softly, an expression of concern crossing her features. "I'm..I-I don't understand Emma, why didn't you just tell us?"
To which all Emma can do is stare back at her mother in utter confusion as she splashes a little of the water into her face to cool off.
"About you and Regina?"
"Wha..what?!" Emma stutters out, wide-eyed. How did they know? When did they... She can't wrap her mind around it and even though she knows she's doing a pretty good impression of a fish on dry land, Emma can't find the proper words to voice her surprise over what her mother just told her.
"Henry seems to think the two of you had a really bad fight."
"Oh.."
Right. Of course the kid would think that, Emma muses. She had after all promised he could be present the next time Regina was going to teach her magic. Which had never happened in the end. And all they had done ever since..ever since... All they had done was ferry the kid back and forth between the both of them without any explanations given. So of course he would think that they had fought. Of course he would think that was the reason they were avoiding each other and things reverted back to how they were months before. When he had always spent time with either her or Regina, but almost never with both of his moms together.
"So you did have a fight then?"
Snorting, Emma screws the cap back on the bottle of water. "The opposite actually," she blurts out without thinking.
Her mother's eyes go as wide as saucers right after she finishes speaking and that's when it dawns on Emma just exactly what she might've implied.
"Oh God...you and Regina? You..."
"No!" Emma quickly cuts off her mother before she could continue with that line of thought. "No, that's not what I meant. No," she adds once more for good measure. "We didn't..." Sighting, Emma looks around for something to sit down on. She honestly didn't want to have this discussion while standing up. In fact, she would rather not have the discussion at all. But when she flicks her eyes back towards her mother, the reassuring look directed her way takes away some of the lingering nervousness.
"Can we sit down for this? Over there maybe?" Emma asks as she points to a pair of wooden benches near the starting point of another path that led into the woods. Suddenly she's thankful it is still early in the morning. She knew from having ran along these tracks numerous times before, that they were pretty quiet during this time of the day.
"If you didn't fight and you didn't..." Mary Margaret trailing off makes Emma fidget around uncomfortably on the bench she was sitting on. She's fairly sure there's a pink tinging her cheeks that has nothing to do with her run through the woods earlier. "What happened?"
Emma looks down at her laced fingers, eyebrows furrowing as she ponders over her mother's loaded question. "What happened is that I screwed up. Everything was going so well between us and I just had to go and screw it all up." All the frustration she is still feeling when she thinks about that fateful day builds up inside of her again; threatening to spill over the moment she actually lets it.
"And the worst part is, I don't even know how to fix it," Emma grits out agitatedly, placing her hands on her shaking legs, trying to still them. She shoves a hand into her slightly damp hair and stands up from the bench in one quick move. Maybe sitting down hadn't been such a great idea after all, she's feeling way too keyed up.
"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," Emma says, raising one of her fingers towards her lips to touch them. If she closes her eyes she could pretend it never happened. But if she closes them for too long she can still recall it all so vividly. Like it happened just yesterday and she opens her eyes again, staring wistfully off into the distance. "Not like that. It shouldn't have happened like that..."
"Emma," she can hear her mother's attempt to catch her attention while she paces around like a caged tiger. "It would really help if you told me just exactly what it was that shouldn't have..."
"I kind of kissed her," Emma blurts out, eyes fixed solidly to the ground in fear of what the expression on her mother's face might be in response to what she just admitted.
There's actually no reply forthcoming for a while and Emma feels torn between finally looking up and facing the music, or stubbornly keeping her eyes casted downwards. Eventually when she does tilt her head up, peering through a curtain of blonde hair, she's surprised to see Mary Margaret looking right at her. "How can you only kind of kiss..." her mother throws her hands up in the air, shakes her head and continues, "you know what, never mind, I really don't want to hear you explain that right now. But..Emma, honey, if that's all there is to it, why didn't you just tell your father and I?"
"Because, that's not all there is to it."
"Then tell me the whole story," Mary Margaret says as she pats the empty space on the bench. "Because whatever it is, it's obviously got you upset enough to avoid just about everyone and everything for the better part of the week and have your father cover for you at the station."
"I didn't have David take over for me at the station because of.." Emma lets the sentence hang, even as her head clouds up with memories. Of when she had stepped into the sheriff's station two days after she had kissed Regina and made such a mess out of things. Of sitting down at her desk at her usual time and finding just empty space where there would normally be a cup of steaming hot coffee waiting for her. The sense of loss that hit her then.
The sense of loss that hits her now.
"Forget it, it's not important anyhow," she says as she sits down on the bench again. "I didn't tell you because I was still trying to sort things out myself mom," Emma explains, tucking some unruly hairs back behind her ear. "Needless to say I haven't made much progress."
"Are we still talking about you kissing..." Mary Margaret stops talking for a second, looking as if she just swallowed a lemon, "I swear this will be not awkward some day, though probably not today."
"No, it's more about what happened before that I guess," Emma mutters as she traces patterns on the wood. "Or after..also that awkwardness was a pretty good reason for me to not talk about this with my parents of all people, God..." She throws a glance towards her mother from the corner of her eyes, not quite willing to face her directly, "You know, I'm surprised you're not freaking out more about this, this is Regina we're talking about.."
Shifting her gaze right back down at the bench, Emma feels an arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I'm your mother," Mary Margaret says and Emma can swear she hears a smile through those words. "Even if I might wish that you had picked just about anyone else from this town, it is your choice in the end sweetie. I'm not going to tell you to not see people and risk losing you all over again. This..well I won't lie..it's going to take a little time to process, okay?"
"Okay."
For a moment they just sit quietly, until Mary Margaret releases Emma and gives her a soft pat on her back. "So let me get this straight, this happened on the day Gold blew up half of his store, correct?"
"Right," Emma confirms. For a moment she wonders how her mother knew this, but then she remembers the lunch-invitation that had been extended to her the day after that. The one she had blown off with some bullshit excuse. The first of many she had blown off with some bullshit excuse. It intensifies the guilt that she has been feeling, ever since she first spotted her mother leaning against her car.
"We were just..we were going to browse through some spellbooks, try to find something that could help with the whole Gold situation."
Not that he was a threat anymore, Emma thinks. Her mother mentioning over the phone, about how Belle managed to talk Gold down from doing any more experimenting that might prove to be dangerous to the town, had come as somewhat of a blessing in disguise. It gave her a perfect excuse to keep avoiding Regina in a way. It should've made her feel relieved too, knowing that everyone was safe for the time being. And it actually did for a split second, filling her up with a sense of joy before leaving behind this strangely empty feeling once more.
"Regina was slicing something for some dish she was going to make, I bumped into her and she cut herself."
She pauses for a moment, trying to recollect herself. Telling the story made her remember. Remembering made something twist itself inside her heart. Like something had twisted when Regina looked at her afterwards. So cold and detached, devoid of the warmth that she had shared with Emma over these last couple of months.
"I was...I healed her and then we were kissing and I just..I don't even know what happened in between. It shouldn't have happened like that," she whispers as her expression falls.
"Emma..." She can feel a hand settling on her shoulder and draw a few soothing circles there. "Did she..did Regina reject you? Is that why.."
"No, that's not it at all." And Emma would laugh at the irony of it, had it not hit so close to what actually happened. Only in reverse. Because she's not as stupid to think that it was just the kiss that fucked everything up, it was what she said afterwards too. "I said I was sorry. After we..kissed I said I was sorry and I've never... I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have kissed her, but I shouldn't have said that either and now I don't know how to fix it."
"Hold on a second," Mary Margaret says, giving Emma a puzzled look. "Did you, or did you not want to kiss her? Because you're really confusing me with what you're saying right now Emma."
"I did but.."
"Then why did you apologize?"
"I don't know...I guess I panicked," Emma fumbles for an explanation.
"Panicked?" The expression on her mother's face signified a growing frustration with Emma's inability to explain herself.
"Yes...panicked. I just..I crossed a line that day Mary Margaret, and now I can't..uncross it anymore."
"But why do you want to uncross it, it's clear to me you wanted to kiss her. Yet you continue to contradict yourself. Like you aren't even sure what you want." Her mother looks right at her then, the hand on Emma's shoulder moving down to cover her hands, squeezing softly. "What do you want Emma?"
Everything, Emma thinks, but instead she turns her head away from her mother's penetrating gaze, not answering the question at first. And there is a good reason too, since she had been asking herself the same question over the past week or so. What did she want? The answer was always the same. Everything. All the things she has already had and all the things she knows she can still have. With Regina. Because that is the one truth she has been trying to deny, and it is the thing that has her running scared now.
"Emma...honey, look at me please?"
But Emma still stubbornly refuses for a moment more. Stalling for these precious few seconds she knows she needs to mull things over.
"Emma." She can feel fingers on her chin, turning it until she is forced to look right into her mother's eyes again. "Are you in love with her?"
No, she wants to say. In fact, her mouth opens a few times while working furiously around that single syllable, but it never quite rolls across her tongue. It never quite makes it past her lips. No, she wants to say, but in the end all that follows is silence.
"I think the fact that you can't say no to that question says enough don't you think?"
Emma closes her eyes as she thinks about that. The fingers curled around her chin drop away and she dips her head down. "Does it?" she wonders out loud, eyes briefly flicking up towards her mother before she casts them down again. "I don't even know what that means Mary Margaret. I don't know..." she sighs and doesn't finish that particular sentence. She's hardly been able to sort out what she was feeling herself, let alone discuss it with her mother of all people. Besides it shouldn't be the focus of their conversation, the focus should be on how the hell she's going to fix this gigantic mess she's made.
"Look, all I want right now is to have things go back to the way they were before. What we had, I don't know..call it a tentative friendship, but I want that back, mom, I just..want that back. And I don't know how."
"Have you thought of telling Regina this?"
Emma gives her a mother a quizzical look in response. "What do you mean?"
"You can't fix this unless you talk to her and you haven't exactly been talking to her have you?" Mary Margaret admonishes her gently. "You should go and see her, tell her the same things you've just told me."
"That is if she's even going to hear me out in the first place."
Her mother smiles encouragingly at her. "Emma, the way I see it you could continue to run along these dirt tracks every day like you've been doing this past week or so, feeling miserable because of what happened while trying to summon up the courage to fix what is between the two of you, but never doing so in the end. Or you could just go and talk to her."
"But I don't even know what I really told you now, let alone..." Emma shakes her head. How could she even hope to keep her thoughts collected when confronted by Regina. When she is even now doubting every word, conjuring up images of how any one of them could ruin what little remained of their relationship.
"Just talk, sweetie." Mary Margaret smiles at her again before looking at her watch and abruptly standing up from the bench. "I should probably go, I promised to have lunch with David. If you want, we could have Henry over for today?"
"I.." Emma hesitates, which makes her mother roll her eyes in response and grab her arm. "What are you doing?!"
"Apparently giving you a much needed push in the right direction," Mary Margaret answers, guiding Emma towards her car.
"Wait," Emma says when they're almost back at her car, cognizant of her inability to keep the apprehensiveness out of her voice as she speaks. "Its just that..I'm not exactly good at talking..." she tries with one last feeble attempt at getting out of having to face her fears.
"Emma..."
She takes in the exasperated look her mother is giving her and cringes. "Fine, okay, I'll try..." the rest of her sentence is cut off, as Snow pushes the door of her buggy shut.
Minutes later, she sits in front of Regina's mansion in her car and Emma stares at her hands which are wrapped around the steering wheel. She is clutching it so tightly that her knuckles have turned white from the strain. When she eventually does remove one of her hands it is only to move it to the keys dangling from the ignition. The urge to run, to drive away again is almost overwhelming in its intensity but still she hesitates.
There is a flash of a memory which comes to her when she stares at the path leading up to the house. She had done a great deal of damage leaving like she had in the first place. Leaving instead of talking. And that single thought strengthens her resolve to not leave again, not before actually talking this time.
She takes a deep breath and steps out of the car.
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