A/N: first entry for the 2018 OQ prompt party. Monday.
28. regina self harming and robin noticing.
(in a different way tho)
thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed this fic. it means so much to me, and i hope not to disappoint you. enjoy!
He gets caught up in his life.
Doesn't see Regina much, lately, and it's… weird, but understandable. She has other duties: and as long as she leaves the students alone, and doesn't cross the line of a normal-passing evil teacher, he's fine with it. But he observes – she looks tired, many times she comes to school with dark circles under her eyes, and her outfits get darker, sexier, harsher.
The clicking of her heels on the tiles is always like the thunders before a storm, has many of a student parting ways and sliding towards other corridors, has the crowd splitting to let her pass. He observes from far away, doesn't get involved. He does, though, try to brighten the world wherever she darkens it. He offers smiles, help, explains and clarifies, and lightens up the spirits and brings good where good is needed.
However, life goes on, and Halloween approaches.
Principal Hopper corners him, on a quiet morning, and explains everything about the annual party they're throwing – it's in the sports hall, and teachers are needed, to supervise on the students, and, would he mind also thinking of a costume? It's a simple party, really, just the usual music young people listen to, and maybe those tables of appropriate beverages and the like.
He says yes, obviously, and once catches himself asking himself if she will be there, but he doesn't know, really. They haven't spoken since that day at the jetty, when they've flown together, and aside from some casual, polite Good mornings, he doesn't actually talk to her.
He's had his fair share of things to think about. It's just, Christmas is coming, and his whole species is in a frenzy over it, as it always happens. Humans are, in general, more kind with one another, so that's the time for new year's resolutions and gifts and love. But they all seem to forget that there's Halloween first, and November is a month where the devils thrive. It's dark and gloomy – at least in this hemisphere, and makes it easy for depressing thoughts to slither on and envelop themselves in one's mind.
So he'll have to be even more attentive, and to push back with all he can, to oppose the malign powers.
.:.
She is so screwed.
Her human form doesn't even begin to show how bad she feels about all of this. She's carried into herself this impending guilty feeling, and of course Mother will notice the moment she sees her. They'll all notice.
She has started to get brighter.
It's almost invisible, a small thing, really. But it's there. It's a little spot just beneath her tattoo, on her back. It's a little, imperceptible luminous pulsing point of light, which she can still cover with carefully constructed armors of clothing. Still, the most expert between the devils will know there's something wrong with her.
Late September has her pouring her nights above old books, dusty receptacles of ancient truth she keeps in her underground vault, now used as a library. She neglects her current projects – the couple she's just shy of separating forever, the girl who's getting more depressed each passing day, the young dad who constantly thinks about how wonderful it'd be to leave his newborn child and his wife.
And the more she neglects these projects, the more dangerous they become – the more chances they have to get to the other side, to be picked up by those fucking angels.
She does research on her small, bitty diamond-like piece of skin, a crack in her human shape, and she doesn't dare to turn and to free herself from her human prison. Zelena has warned her about it, once – they should change back to their normal shape, and often, because it's dangerous to remain a human for a long time. Just another thing she'll have to ask her sister when she sees her.
She gets close to calling Mephistopheles, once, but doesn't.
Her books can tell her everything she needs – she's certain of it. And she just has to solve this small hiccup in her plans before Samhain, and she'll be alright. She will.
She plays a mix-tape she's stolen once, from a pretty girl she was seeing, and continues her reading, only exits to go to school – doesn't pick up the calls of her kind, doesn't answer to anything.
But the books are silent, or they enjoy her worries.
.:.
The party is in full-swing, when he gets in. He's parked quite close – didn't know if he'd be in the mood of walking home, afterwards. There are kids swarming around, kids everywhere, has the school always had that many kids? Probably. The lights are already low, and he spots some of his students here and there, hidden in a corner, or dancing in the middle, or gathered in a noisy gaggle. Some recognize him, but he has just the time to say a quick hello before he has to rush towards his post.
And Regina's there.
His eyes widen before he can stop them.
She's dressed – as he is, of course, it was one of the details the principal has requested of the teachers – and that wouldn't be a problem, but… he's surprised. He has a second to gain his composure and close his fallen jaw, before she spots him.
The smile she throws him is positively wicked.
Her dress shines. It's not… scandalous, or inappropriate; after all, they work with a bunch of hormonal kids, and she's always attentive and careful, because even a devil has its limits. He didn't expect her to wear this particular costume, that is.
She is beautiful, of course, and he has to bite back a chuckle as he walks to join her behind the table of refreshments. Because Regina – that Regina, the one he's valiantly fought against since months now, and flown together, Regina is dressed in white and light blue, has a knee-length dress which shines of a thousand little spots of light, and an impressive pair of fake feathered wings – and, of course, a halo of shimmering gold above her head.
Of course.
"Milady," he greets, formally, pretending not to notice her crossed arms and raised eyebrow. "Didn't expect to find you here, of all places."
"Hello, Arariel," she smiles, with that sultry voice he oh-so loathes, and her hands go down to smoother her dress. "So, do you like it?"
He couldn't tell her the truth – it would be impolite, and he's not unkind, no matter how she tries to provoke him. "Enchanting as always," he nods once, and of course she is. He clearly hasn't fooled her for a moment, because her brow raises even more.
"I imagine you'd find me enchanting," she answers, her smile becoming plastered as she nods, "you know, you don't have to pretend with me. It's okay to be a jerk every now and then. I reckon it would be exhausting to always restrain yourself from saying an unkind sentence."
"I was serious," he tells her, and reaches the table, looks at the various pitchers and bottles. "Fancy a drink?"
"You don't want to be seen drinking with me," she says. "Anyway, my shift here is almost over. I was just waiting for you to relieve me."
"All the more reason to have a drink before going," he motions to take the ladle from the punch bowl, and looks at her. "Unless you'd like something stronger?"
She shifts uncomfortably, and looks at the mixture. "I… that's fine. Whatever. We… don't really feel the effects of alcohol. Unless you have a bottle of Devil's Springs in your pocket…"
He's surprised, but he nods, and puts down the ladle. "Well let's just say, you'll owe me a drink." His eyes shifts to where her hands are curled around the edge of the table, and notices something – that shouldn't be there, but is. Her white glove, shining of satin and lace, is marred of a black substance.
He doesn't think twice, and grabs her wrist – she lets out a startled yelp, and violently frees her hand from his grip.
"Not here!" she hisses. "Shit, shit…"
She turns, her back to the room, and he quickly scans his surroundings. There's August, a fellow Lit teacher, and he calls to him, quickly asks if he can cover for a minute, and his hand is pressed on Regina's back, ushering her outside.
The door to the sports hall closes with a loud boom, and they're out.
.:.
He has seen it.
And she's quite sure he knows what it is. After all, he has to know something of her kind – but maybe not how they got through the most painful process of a brutal transformation, when they've fallen from heaven – how they've been remolded and rebuilt and recreated to be demonic shapes of smoke and fire, how a viscous petroleum runs in their veins and how white, blue wings turned black and violet.
Robin follows her out, as she looks frantically around to check if there's someone, but they're all inside, she's alone with him.
"Show me," he demands, urgent, holds her wrist and turns it upwards. He slides down the glove before she can do anything, he's been so quick she almost didn't remember – how she could destroy him, if she wants. But he looks, he looks at her wrist – at the patch of black skin that may look like a bruise to a human eye. He must know it's just her real shape resurfacing. He knows it, because they flew together, and he has seen her.
And in the middle, where she is bleeding, black comes out in fat drops. She has cut herself, yesterday – to feel something, because her sister was right, because they should change back every now and then, and for her pain is welcome and encouraged amongst her kind, everyone hates themselves more than anything…
"Regina, what is this?"
She snatches away her arm, but not before he could get a good look at it. "You weren't supposed to see it," she spits. "I…"
"Show me, please," he looks down to her, those fucking blue eyes open and pleading. "I want, I'd… I'd like to help you." Another second looking at his eyes, and she looks away.
Sighing, she lifts her arm again. "And what would you know of our biology, Arariel?" she asks, with a certain snarky tone, but also curiosity.
"I'm an avid learner, what can I say," he reasons, tilting her arm, gently. "Did you… do this to yourself?"
"Yes."
"And since when you haven't changed back?"
She looks down, almost ashamed. "Since that evening at the beach."
"Wow," he lets out, softly. "That's… a lot of time."
"Yes," she murmurs.
"I think you should do it… as soon as possible."
"I actually have to," she tells him, her eyes suddenly darting at the street, where a car is coming in their direction. "Tonight, it's Samhain, you know… a friend is picking me up and…"
"Okay, okay," Robin lifts a hand up. "I shouldn't know about any of this, so I'm stopping you right there."
"Right," she lifts an eyebrow, then looks at the car again. "Right… I should go, I'm sorry. I'll… see you soon, I hope."
She frees her hand from his – why was he still holding it in the first place? and rushes to the car, before her companion can possibly walk towards them and ask about him – but she has seen him holding her hand, for sure, and she has to have felt his smell of purity and goodwill – she walks away, leaves him there and slides up the glove, getting into the car.
"Hi, little one. Nice wings."
Regina sits on the backseat, and pulls out the bag she's left to her friend days ago, opens it, pulling out more appropriate clothes.
"Shut up and drive, Mal," she smiles, when Mephistopheles meets her eyes from the rear-view mirror. "I feel like an idiot."
"Well, I'd advise you to change," Mal says, the sounds muffled as she holds up a cigarette and lightens it. "Your mother would get a stroke if she saw you like this. Even though she, technically, can't."
Regina sends her a gaze, before starting to free herself from the costume. "So what's the plan for the night?"
Mal drives, as her wings come down, her white dress packed away while she unfolds a black leather skirt and jacket. "Same as usual," she answers, her bored voice sounds like she already dreads the event. "You know, goats, blood, a bit of flying, and new year's resolutions. Same as usual, little one."
Regina zips up her jacket, and looks down at her wrist. Maybe Lucifer will know what is happening to her. Then, a little needle of worry pushes in, when she thinks of that tiny, mysterious dot of light on her back – if she asks him, he'll surely notice that. She rubs her arm absentmindedly, willing the black drops to go back inside, willing this night to be over.
thoughts?