Yawning, Emma blinks away the final wisps of her dream with a frown. From what she can remember, she and Regina had been sat dressed only in the scant guilt of their underwear, back in the Station in Storybrooke. They'd been positioned side by side on the hard wooden chairs that circle the table in the interrogation room, sharing uneasy glances with one another before reverting their gaze back to the glass lining the far wall. It's a one-way mirror, they both know this, and while they had been sat rigidly still just before she'd awoken, she'd tasted the telling tang of the Mayor's lipstick and felt the lingering promise of her touch. On the other side of the glass, she knows the others had been watching. Neal, Hook, her parents...
"Fuck."
She murmurs, pulling a face as she imagines what conversations must have been going on- even in her subconscious- on the other side of the mirror.
Pushing uncomfortable thoughts firmly away, she stretches sleepily and regrets the act in an instant.
"Fuck!"
Again, huskier this time, as she clutches her side and winces. Giving herself a moment to recover, she moves gingerly to push herself up, narrowing her eyes as she struggles to make out much of anything through the shadows; the cave lit only by a hazy, meagre glow emanating from the narrow chasm they'd walked through to get here. That dim light has her guessing that it must be somewhat light outside- as light as this hateful island ever seems to get- and she pushes her hair out of her face and glances down at the brunette who remains asleep beside her. Regina lies on her side facing towards her, and the blonde shivers as she recalls the moaned ecstasy that had escaped parted lips before slumber had come for them both.
Oh, boy.
She tries to think of the last time she'd messed around with someone without being able to put some of the blame on alcohol and can't do it. She tries to figure out if this fact bothers her or not in the face of last night and can't do that either.
"What's done is done."
She whispers beneath her breath, before pushing herself out from under the covers to be hit by the cave's wet chill. Walking over to the rocking horse in the corner- still limping a little, but not feeling dizzy or nauseous as she had last night- she grabs a few handfuls of her once blood-soiled clothes and wrinkles her nose. The fabric is still a little damp, particularly her jeans, but she supposes she'll have to make do as she can't very well go wandering out of the cave in her underwear.
Best not.
She smirks to herself, until she remembers her dream and resolves simply to roll her eyes uncomfortably. It takes her a while to get dressed; struggling with tight denim and emitting several hissed expletives beneath her breath. Finally, she pulls on her sweater with a graceless manoeuvre of her arms, before wrestling with her boots; by now rather breathless.
"Hi."
Tinkerbell greets cooly as she peers over her shoulder to spy the blonde approaching her.
"Hi."
Emma nods uncomfortably, their trip to the caves blurred somewhat by silent fretting and pain, and she doesn't remember for sure whether she'd made a fool out of herself last night.
You'd have had an excuse!
Her mind pipes up at once, and while this is true, she detests exposing elements of weakness in front of strangers, and no rational argument has ever changed that.
"How are you feeling?"
Tink asks, not sounding overly concerned, and this suits the Sheriff just fine.
"Better."
Emma shrugs noncommittally, and the fairy nods and turns back to surveying the woods that surround them.
"Have you come to swap with me?"
She asks, drawing lines in the sand with a large stick that had been resting against her leg.
"Oh. Sure."
The Sheriff nods, a little guiltily as she'd actually come wandering out to relieve herself, and the thought that the fairy might need some rest had selfishly never entered her mind.
Asshole, Swan.
Maybe, but in all honesty, she's had a fair amount on her plate recently which she feels allows her some excuse!
Still an asshole...
Yes. She supposes she often is.
"I'll swap with you in a second, I need to pee."
She informs, and Tink shrugs and goes back to studying her dirt illustrations.
"Watch out for Dreamshade."
She offers the Sheriff's retreating form in a tone that suggests she'd not be too bothered either way, and Emma sighs with a small smirk, slowly coming around to the idea that she quite likes the fairy after all.
When she comes back, Tink studies Emma casually as the latter worries at her arm. The way the Sheriff walks is telling of the fact she must be in some pain, and the scarlet slice to her cheek looks deep and sore. Still, it seems she's more interested in her inner wrist, and the fairy speaks up bossily
"What did I tell you? You know if you got scratched by that stuff, you're a dead woman walking."
"I didn't get scratched by Dreamshade-"
Emma snaps back gruffly; equally headstrong
"-I lost my balance and fell into some brambles. You try assuming the position when you can't bend on one side."
A snort of laughter at this, and Tink supposes the blonde isn't so bad when she joins in quietly.
"Idiot."
She offers matter-of-factly, and for the first time, Emma imagines she can see how it is that the fairy and Regina had once been friends.
"Go sleep."
She retorts, and Tink pushes herself from her perch on the rock- not needing to be told twice- and begins down the chasm to the cave. It is only when she is little more than a ghostly silhouette that it occurs to Emma that Regina sleeps obliviously in her underwear, and she bites her lip apprehensively.
"Fuck."