THE STAIRCASE

By Red Charcoal

Chapter 36: Of Horses and Bears

Regina settled into the passenger seat and watched out of the corner of her eye as Emma adjusted her seat, fiddled with the side and rear mirrors and made another typically smart-ass retort. In other words, made herself completely at home.

Well, she was true to form at least.

She closed her eyes and bit back her own smart retort.

The mayor knew she was exhausted. The moment her eyes fluttered shut she felt like she was mired in mud, being pulled deeper. It had been a mistake to drive in the first place on only two hours sleep. A mistake not to ask Emma to drive them. But she was hanging by a thread from the moment she got up. It was like if she gave away her last piece of power to the blonde, she would have nothing left. She knew it was the lack of sleep, but she was barely there.

She had been rapidly unravelling since the night before. A night spent tossing and turning. Getting up, trying to watch the hotel TV to induce sleepiness. Checking her texts. Having a hot drink. Returning to bed. Rising an hour later. Rinse and repeat. And all because of that kiss. That kiss.

In all her life Regina had never almost come undone from a single press of soft lips. And yet she had felt the shivers of delight shoot up her the moment Emma's hand slid across the back of her neck and drew them close, pressing their mouths together.

That had been a thrilling realisation in its own right - that Emma had been the one to initiate it.

And then she had felt the flutter of lips, a brush of tongue, and heard the sensual moans from the other woman who bucked against her. It had been the most erotic experience of her life and she knew instantly that if the blonde had so much brushed the tips of her fingers across her most intimate place, she would have climaxed on the spot.

In light of what Emma had said next, she was profoundly glad the hand gently caressing her neck had not strayed anywhere below her collarbone.

"That was a mistake."

The four brutal words ricocheted through her brain for hours afterwards, slowly stripping the hope from her, withering her soul to a pathetic husk. If Emma had leaned over and stabbed her, Regina could not have been more shocked, more hurt.

She swallowed the rejection, the four horrible words, and hid her humiliation well. To hell she would show she was dying inside. She was Regina Mills for God's sake. She didn't do pathetic displays like hormonal lovesick teenagers.

She left as soon as she could. Striding down the stairs, across to her car. Drove to the hotel quickly, thanks to minimal traffic on grey, wet roads at 3am, lit by blotchy street-light streaks. Headed straight to the comfortable king-sized hotel bed which held neither comfort nor sleep.

Today's gentle thrum and vibration of her Mercedes, however, had been vastly more soothing, lulling her to a peaceful place before she had even realised just how tired she was.

It had only been Emma's terrified shout that jolted her out of her doze.

Regina felt like a cliche when she saw the flashes of a life poorly lived. How cruel to be reminded of that tawdry business after so much effort to reinvent herself. After so much time spent fighting who she had been. She saw the evil deeds and wickedness, lined up like mocking black dominoes. She saw her emotionally crushed heart and her crushing others' hearts.

The pictured tilted. Down. And brightened. She saw Henry in her arms, and felt the slight shift in her chest. She remembered the puzzlement of that sensation as she stroked his fair hair and cupped his tiny face. She experienced again the emotions of falling in love with him, then slowly losing him, fading away like longer and longer shadows at dusk. And then came images of Emma. The blonde tresses and red jacket. Watchful eyes. She saw herself hating her. Tolerating her. Suffering horror at her hand. Hurting her. And hurting her. And hurting her. The big green eyes watching her in such pain. Then Regina watched the image shift. She was forgiving her.

Then forgiving herself.

Finally. Loving her.

The thought Emma was about to be snuffed out of existence due to Regina's own negligence brought a sharp taste of bile to the back of her throat and as she heaved on the steering wheel, her only thought was an internal scream: "Don't you DARE die!"

And for once in her ornery, contrary life, Emma Swan obeyed her.

Regina sat there, at the side of the road, shell shocked, as Emma calmly performed something akin to a close-call autopsy.

Her brain was in a daze. Her heart was thumping wildly. She couldn't seem to move the fingers stuck on the steering wheel. They felt like someone else's.

And Emma casually asked whether she had been overtaking. Curiously. Like did Regina enjoy roasted pumpkin?

Did the woman not understand she had almost died? That she had almost lost her? Regina had stared.

She shut her eyes, squeezed out the thoughts hammering at her from every direction. They had almost died. And she just ... Couldn't. Handle. That.

The rush of adrenalin finally fizzled out and a wave of exhaustion took over.

She fell back on her usual sarcastic banter. It was almost too easy. She was like the rhythmic drum section to Emma's percussion. It was how they played together.

She wondered if the blonde could see her hands were now trembling in her lap. She remembered the warmth of the blonde carefully removing them from the steering wheel and placing them there, and she had to bite her tongue not to beg her to hold them a little while longer. That she was a rattled mess. And would she mind?

When Emma finally exited the car for the stand of trees, Regina rubbed her eyes viciously, daring them to leak and unmask her pathetic weakness. She scolded herself.

So much for new and improved. Hell. She was a goddamned wreck.

This could not stand. She needed coffee, she decided, and flung open the door. She rose on shaky legs and made her way to the boot.

But then Emma Swan, striding up with her stupid sexy swagger, denied her even that. Although, all things considered, she couldn't exactly blame her.

Deprived of her coffee hit, Regina felt weary and completely washed out. And she knew she was beyond arguing. She reluctantly balled up her keys and dropped them in Emma's outstretched hand, relieved not to see triumphalism in her eyes. Instead - just straight-up relief. Well OK then. She could live with that.

Now, with her eyes fluttering open and shut, glimpsing Emma pull smoothly away from the road verge, she realised she should stop fighting for control when she had none.

It was one of the lessons she learned the hard way from Hopper.

Her mind floated backwards.

"It's been a month but I still don't understand why you wanted me to ride alone," Regina began, folding her arms as she leaned against the frame of the doctor's office window. It had become her favourite spot during their twice-weekly sessions.

"Well why do you think I suggested riding in the first place?'' Archie asked, scribbling a rapid note and looking up.

Regina watched the pen move and eyed him suspiciously.

"No, that was not about my shopping," he answered her unspoken question. He gave a small grin.

She smiled briefly at their shared joke before answering seriously. "I thought I was riding to improve my relationship with Henry. Which is already improved, I might add."

"Regina," Archie said quietly, "It was never about that. I did want you to heal one thing though."

"Could you talk in even more riddles?" she huffed in irritation.

Archie looked sheepish and swallowed nervously. "Matt told me how outraged you got when he suggested horse therapy is good for troubled kids because it shows them how to accept and reciprocate unconditional love."

Regina's eyes narrowed.

"Henry has never been abused," Regina spat. "And I do not appreciate the implication. We've been over this. I told Matt that."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Then do try to get to the point, because I am failing to grasp it, Doctor."

"I felt you, not Henry, needed animal therapy more than almost anyone in Storybrooke. You have been treated cruelly, Regina. The time spent with horses was always supposed to be about you."

She felt her face contort in outrage. Is that how he saw her? Like some abused pathetic little creature? She frowned in dismay. Archie barrelled on.

"From losing the man you did love, to being forced to submit to a man you never ever wanted near you in that capacity - you have not had unconditional love for a lifetime. I know briefly with Henry it was there but we both know he also wilfully withdrew it. So I really wanted you to feel that again. It's very important for you.''

"You could have just told me that's what this was," Regina growled. "Why you felt the need to manipulate and treat me like..."

"Regina, are you saying that you would have simply agreed and gone along with it? That first day I mentioned the stables?"

The mayor turned back to the window. "Not the point. This was not OK," she muttered and waved a hand. She allowed a sarcastic edge to sharpen her tone to a razor's edge. "It would be nice to feel in charge of my destiny once in a while. Not someone else's pawn."

"You have been in charge of it all this time, Regina. For decades," Archie said in surprise. "You demonstrated your power to us all on a regular basis. Sleeping with our late Sheriff. Governing Storybrooke unopposed however you decreed. Playing games with Emma when she first arrived, trying to run her out of town. A powerless person would not attempt these things. And she would certainly not succeed."

"And look how well that worked out, trying to send Henry's birth-mother on her way when we first met. I never could control her. Not really."

"You mistake having choices with having absolute power," Archie suggested gently. "No one has that. Nor should they. It's corruptive."

Regina snorted even though the words settled on her uncomfortably.

"The more power you have," he added, "the more you seek. And the more you disdain and even fear that which you can't control, instead of accepting lack of control is sometimes just part of life. It's a vicious cycle. Yet all any of us really needs, deep down, is freedom to choose our destinies."

"My destiny was to run Emma out of town the first week she was here," Regina grumbled sourly.

"That was never your destiny, Regina," Archie said. "If it was meant to be, it would have happened. The problem is you continually confuse destiny with choice. They are quite opposite most of the time. I am curious as to why you feel powerless when as mayor you are anything but?"

She shrugged. "A lifetime of memories from a time long past."

"You do have free will now though."

"I thought I did."

"Until?"

"Emma Swan."

"And yet you ultimately did run her out of town. So you ... won. Your free will prevailed."

"No, that's just it," she sighed. "I never did. She chose to leave to spare me. She sacrificed herself. Fell nobly on her sword. Took it as a punishment. If she had really wanted to stay she would still be here. Really, doctor, her going was just a demonstration of HER free will. Not mine."

Archie eyed her. "Why did you ask her to go when you did?''

"You ask me that every session," Regina growled. "Aren't you tired of hearing the same words sliding off your tongue, dear?"

"Aren't you tired of not answering this particular question?" He smiled to take the edge off it.

Regina had already turned away. She watched the passing parade of cars (none yellow) snake their way up the main street. Her mind jumbled and shifted around. She wondered what Emma was doing now. Her heart tightened at the question and not for the first time she wondered why she still cared. Her hand, flat against the frame tightened into a hard fist.

"What are you thinking about?"

"What do you think?"

Archie smiled kindly. "I am guessing it's not about horses and healing."

"You would be right."

"Why did you ask her to leave? You could have done so the day she hurt you. The week after. The first month. The first three months. Why wait so long? Why then?"

Regina spun around. "Stop pushing me."

Archie tilted his head. "I thought this was why you were here? To get answers?"

"I am here to be fixed. Not grilled about things I cannot change no matter how much I wish I could."

A heavy silence fell between them. Archie scribbled more notes. The scratching noise filled the room.

"Don't forget to add laundry powder and Pongo's biscuits," Regina intoned drolly.

This time he ignored the obvious deflection and gave her a laser-hard look. "You wish you could undo what you did," he stated. "And you regret sending her away."

The brunette sighed. "Of course I do," she said crossly. "Henry made my life hell and half the town still won't speak to me. Ever tried governing a mute town, Doctor? It is not pleasant. Not to mention Ruby burns my lunch every time without fail."

"I thought you ate salad for lunch?"

Regina's eyes flashed darkly. "Metaphorically speaking." She worked her jaw. "It's her attitude."

"So you regret sending Emma away because it negatively affected your interactions with others? What about how you personally feel about her being gone?"

"She had her uses," Regina conceded with a brittle laugh. "Didn't need any sleeping pills. I hate these goddamned pills. When can I come off them anyway? This is getting absurd."

It was a rhetorical question - one she had asked him many times. She had tried repeatedly over the months to not use them and always the result was the same. Wide-eyed nights and sheets in a twisted, angry whirlpool by morning. And lots of fresh, bruising memories of a past life spent in hell.

"Was that her only use?"

"What do you mean?'' she asked silkily, her voice dropping dangerously. "You want to know if I was fucking her?" Regina spat, eyes flashing. "I was most definitely not."

"Actually I was wondering whether you missed her companionship. I am curious as to why you thought I meant a sexual purpose, though. You have made this assumption more than once now."

Regina turned back to the window and gave a backhanded wave. "Fine," she said, biting the end of the word off. "I miss her. Personally. She was diverting to talk to late at night when I was ... unsettled. OK? Is that what you want to hear?"

Archie sucked in a breath and tried once more. "So why did you tell her to leave Storybrooke when you did? If you were at the point of enjoying her company?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I was enjoying it TOO DAMNED MUCH," Regina spat back, irritated beyond reason at the question he had been pummelling her with for so long now. She instantly felt a horror shoot through her the moment she said the words out loud. "I..."

Shit.

Archie was watching her, thoughtfully chewing the lid on his pen and Regina rubbed her temple. "I... that's not... It's just she wanted more from me. And part of me ..." she swallowed. "Part of me was not opposed. And that could not be tolerated." She ground her back molars together.

"Why does it bother you so much to have found common ground with Emma? And maybe even desire more from her?"

"You do realise she was my rapist, dear?" Regina hissed. "There is a world of wrong with finding friendship with such a person. Do you remember what I said the day you found me in that pathetic quivering heap at the bottom of my staircase? There is NO excuse for rape. And if I try to find one for Emma Swan, if I try to let her in, why not all of them? I may as well be excusing Leopold. I may as well kiss his ugly, bristly face and embrace the domineering bastard. Like all is forgiven."

And there it was.

Regina and Archie locked eyes and the mayor hesitated. Her voice choked briefly before it came out gruff and raw. "I-I don't want to forgive him," she whispered harshly. "EVER. If I forgive her, I'm forgiving HIM aren't I? And I am not ready to... I don't ever want to NOT hate him. He deserves to be hated forever. I hope the bastard fries in hell."

"Regina," Archie said after a beat, "You are not giving a free pass to the man who callously violated you by responding to the kindness and friendship shown by the one who never meant to. They are very different things. Intent is everything."

The mayor stared at him. She said flatly: "You think I can still hate the bastard and yet forgive her." The thought had never entered her mind before. It had never even swum close enough to the surface for her to consider it consciously. It was as foreign a concept as she had ever heard.

And then Hopper managed to surpass it.

"Of course," he nodded. "And, if you are ready, you can do more than just forgive her if you want."

Regina eyed him disbelievingly. She shook her head, looking at the man like he had a toaster on his head. This was nuts. How could... It could never... Too much.

"I think this session is over," she said painfully and strode out without another word.

When Regina next opened her eyes she realised the car wasn't moving. Emma had pulled up at some sort of road-side stall.

The brunette squinted at the hand-painted purple and red sign. "Maine maple syrup, honeys, jams."

Oh for god's sake, she muttered, eyeing the blonde bent over, apparently discussing a purchase with a stall holder. The tight jeans stretched over her firm ass, and Regina found herself momentarily distracted. She leaned on the power-window button and was disgruntled when it didn't budge. Of course, damn engine was off.

She opened the door a crack. This was going to be a long trip if Emma felt the urge to tourist her way the whole route back to Storybrooke. And frankly Regina had neither the stomach nor the bladder for it. She was good but not that good.

She was about to call the blonde back when a shadow appeared by her door, a gnarled face bent forward filling the window. Regina couldn't help but recoil in surprise. Then she made out a black-shrouded elderly woman staring at her hard. Grey hair exploded from her skull like an Einstein caricature. She looked like some mourning Sicilian widow from a Depression-era historical print.

"Momma, come back here," called a pained masculine voice from the direction of the stall. "Stop scaring off the customers."

The ancient woman did not budge but stared at her with cold brown eyes and waggled her finger. "I am watching you," she said in a reed-thin voice that held just a hint of menace. "Blackness turned grey. You think no one sees? I see you. Soon will come the bear."

Regina's eyebrows lifted. "Bear?" she drawled disbelievingly as the ample, crumpled form spun her bulk around and began to shamble back to the stall.

The woman heard her word and arced her head back. The finger waggled at her again. "First you'll see its claw," she eyed her knowingly. "That is the omen it nears. Then the bear. And it will attack, daughter of the dark, you mark me on this, because your black side attracts the beast. And you will encourage the beast to draw near. For that is your true nature."

The mayor glared at her and the woman's face folded into a toothless smile completely devoid of warmth. Regina was fairly sure she'd met dessicated resurrected crones with more charm.

"Sorry, ma'am, it's just my mother," a man's anxious voice called out. "She says stuff like that sometimes. Don't mind her. Don't take it to heart or nothing."

The man, in his fifties, wearing a brown leather apron with a front pouch took a step forward from behind the stall's trestle tables lined with jars. He appeared friendly enough but his brown eyes were filled with embarrassment. There was little doubt his finger-waggling doomsday mother was a habitual offender.

Emma leaned her head outside the make-shift wooden stall to as if to see what the commotion was and her eye fell on Regina. Her face lit up in a smile. The mayor wondered if she even realised she was doing it. She was clutching several fruit preserves and a small bottle of brown syrup. Maple probably. Regina had a burning urge to roll her eyes at the homey haul, but resisted.

"Hey, you're awake," the blonde called over to the car. "Great. Which do you think Mary Margaret would prefer?" She waggled the jars and the mayor shook her head.

Seriously? Regina felt like she was in the Twilight Zone. "Miss Swan can we get moving sometime before Archie and Matt return from their honeymoon? I really don't think Miss Blanchard will care. It's the thought that counts," she added the last bit in a pained parody of a Hallmark card she thought she read somewhere. Brunching with Kathryn and being required to pop out cheesy motivational lines on cue was finally proving useful.

"Oh right," Emma said, taking the input at face value and turning back.

The crone was clearly not quite done and poked her head out of the stall and began eyeballing her again. "The bear will attack and it will be powerful!" she declared with certainty.

"Momma, enough!"

"But when the blood washes away, you will all see the truth. Grey is white is grey." She nodded and then started to shuffle away. She seemed finished at last.

Regina felt an odd chill pass through her. Seers, the good ones at least, she knew sometimes left a passing residue after a reading. But that was ridiculous, she told herself, they were in a land without magic. She shook her head. All nonsense.

"OK Momma, this way." The man shooed his mother to the back of the structure and waved at Regina. "Shit, sorry about that. She thinks she sees dead people, too." He laughed self-consciously but did not look amused.

Regina sighed and shut her car door firmly. She could see Emma was nearly done.

As if on cue the blonde jogged back holding a bunch of preserves and then popped the trunk. "Couldn't decide so got one of each," she said with a wide smile.

There was a gentle clang of glass on glass, more rummaging noises and then the trunk slammed shut.

The driver's door opened and Emma flopped inside and faced her with an easy grin. "What was the crazy old bat on about?"

"Apparently I am to be attacked by a bear, dear," Regina said ruefully. "How nice for us."

Emma laughed. "OK, then. Good to know. Oh wait, there aren't really any bears in these parts though, right?" She slid anxious eyes over to the mayor.

"No Miss Swan, there most definitely are not."

"Good, just checking. Right let's get this show on the road."

"Fine. And, dear, no more stops unless it's an emergency. And if you spot a bear, do accelerate."

"Yup," Emma chuckled and started the engine, peeling away with a lot more zeal than Regina would have liked. "Tire tracks across bears. Check. Oh by the way can you pass me the M&Ms. I like to munch and drive."

"Of course you do," Regina sighed and handed her the bag. "God forbid we should observe structured meal times."

"And you thought you wouldn't get into the road trip spirit," Emma smirked. "Oh whoops. Ah SHIT. That's probably gonna be a bastard to clean up, right?"

Regina looked at the rainbow spray of mini chocolates now liberally seeded througout the car. Her face and mood both dropped. Emma was flicking stricken eyes in her direction while trying to hold her driving line. Her fingers flicked out every now and then to catch any stray chocolates she spotted.

The mayor reviewed the situation as a trio of M&Ms rolled towards her across the dash. Old Regina would have found so many choice words to describe the calamity befalling her beloved car that Emma's ears would now be bleeding from the vitriol.

Instead she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes.

"I am now officially in denial, Miss Swan. The next time I wake up, I expect to see a clean car and the sign 'Welcome to Storybrooke'."

She didn't wait for an answer and, as they rounded a corner, also deigned not to feel chocolate treats bounce across her thighs and whiz past her ear.

New and improved, she muttered inwardly. New and improved.