"Mom. Ma." Henry's hesitant, unsure voice startles them. Emma doesn't let go of Regina's hand and notices Regina's fingers interlacing with hers, but they break their gaze and both turn to Henry.
"We... We think there's something we should try."
"What do you mean, kid?" Emma asks, blinking a couple of times.
"Well, we think that..."
"Who's we, sweetheart?" Regina's tone is slightly suspicious and she side eyes Emma, who shakes her head in self-exoneration.
"I mean grandma and I have been chewing on this thing." After trying to smile and achieving only a clumsy grin, he turns to Snow in a clear silent cry for help.
"Mom?" Emma turns towards her as well.
"Very good. Here we go," she answers, her hands neatly smoothing inexistent creases in her gown. "We obviously didn't want to make this… little intervention. But you have forced us." She punctuates her words with a vehement rise of her chin. "Emma, you know that I wouldn't get in the middle of something that doesn't concern me…" Regina's snort is clearly audible, and Emma suppresses the urge of echoing her. "Well, I'm learning, right?" Snow says, almost reproachfully.
"Right," Emma answers, appeasing but still unsure.
"Right," Snow repeats. "This is not a time for practicing that lesson. Regina's family, and family issues are discussed as such," she concludes, making circles with her hand as to include all of them.
"Magic is out of the question, Snow." Regina's voice bears that low and tense tone capable of freezing adult hearts. It doesn't seem to work as usual, though, because Henry rolls his eyes in disbelief and Snow clutches his nasal septum, breathing hard.
"I give up," Henry splutters.
"I got this," Snow assures, squeezing Henry's shoulder before facing her daughter, turning hermback to the table and, therefore, to Regina, who appears ready to protest until Emma squeezes her hand gently.
"Emma, listen to me. And please do it carefully," she pleads with chilling seriousness. "There's nothing more important than family. And we simply can't allow not trying every possible solution to this."
"I'm listening." Emma's hope is resurfacing, and she hurries to placate Regina's objection with a new hand stroke. If she counts with Snow and Henry's approval, maybe…
"No, you are not," Snow replicates. "We understand it's hard. We really do." She and Henry interchange an awkward smile. "I mean, you clearly have set your own rhythm when progressing towards… well… It's a painfully slow rhythm, let me tell you…"
"What do you want me to do?" Emma cuts Snow's ramblings, desperate to end the sterile speech.
"What does your instinct tells you to?" her mother asks.
"To save her." No one has ever posed her an easiest question.
"Then do it!"
"Are you out of your narrow, insignificant mind, Snow White?"
"But, Mom, the dagger…"
Regina and Emma's voices weave together like a perfectly harmonic cadence, each is in a radically different tone.
"Forget the dagger, for Heaven's sake. Think." Snow shakes her head and corrects herself, "Feel!"
"I can't believe you're conquering a new level of idiocy," Regina hisses, and her eyes clearly convey that everyone should be thankful that she's no longer able to call for magic, specially Snow. "That's enough, you clearly don't understand what you're going to unleash."
"Oh, believe me, Your Highness, I understand it way better than you!"
"What do I do?" Emma pleads, releasing Regina's hand to face her mother, lost in the feeling that there might be a way out. A way to evade the despotic ties of the damn dagger. Regina squirms and rises her head and chest a few inches from the table.
Emma's eyes dart alarmed at her, but Snow gives her no respite and grabs her by the shoulders. "This is not ideal and probably we shouldn't be here, but things are a bit pressing right now. Good Lord, sweetheart, listen to your heart!"
Emma's blood pools in her head, her heartbeat echoing like a storm. She feels absolutely lost, each new word harder to interpret than the previous one, but she's eager to follow her mother's advice.
"Ok," she says, resolutely yet clueless as to what to do next, and turns to Regina, who looks at her in horror and tries to put some distance between them.
"Emma, don't," she warns, almost sit up now, clutching the dagger with white knuckles until her throat betrays her. Regina starts coughing and red dots blow from her mouth.
Emma lets out a terrified cry and hurries to hold her. Regina's body convulses with each new cough, and a small trail of blood appears at the corner of her lips as she collapses like a withered weight on Emma's arms. Henry runs to surround them and Snow speaks directly to her daughter. "Emma, would you be able to let her die knowing that you haven't tried everything?"
Emma feels desolate and lost in the midst of this nonsense, watching Regina die in her arms. She knows Snow is right. That she won't forgive herself if she doesn't try something. Anything. But what could she possibly do while constraint by…
The noise of metal hitting the ground reaches her ears.
The dagger has come loose from Regina's grip. Her hand hangs on the table, motionless. The metal blade ricochets and goes limp at Emma's feet. At her reach. She looks at Regina, wasted and barely breathing now, her throat vibrating in liquid rumblings but her eyes flashing a warning glimpse. A glimpse that Emma is totally willing to ignore…
Until Henry's foot pounce on the dagger.
She opens her eyes in disbelief and gasps in rage, as he whispers, "Ma, how do we break curses in this family?"
Emma remains perfectly still, not really listening to Henry. She holds Regina's body against her, as if that way she could somehow protect her from the poison that floods her veins and is rapidly claiming her life.
"Ma," Henry insists, searching her eyes. "How do we do it?"
"I…" she whimpers. In her arms, Regina's body convulses. She looks so broken, so vulnerable, so close to evanescence. Almost like an eternal dream. Her hand slides up to the back of Regina's neck and delicately leans her body back on the table. She caresses Regina's soft skin, seeking to stop her spasms, seeking an anchor in the midst of the maelstrom.
"I..." she repeats, leaving doubts, an apology and a half question in the air.
She never gets to finish whatever it was she meant to say, because she closes her lips over Regina's.
It's a wet, sad, desperate kiss. A slow one, full of delirium, of almost animal veneration. Emma is kissing those soft, unresponsive lips, feeling the warmth that has almost vanished from them.
Until they open to steal a breath of air amid a painful groan.
The room contracts with the shudder of a magical impulse. A jolt that forces Emma to grasp the table with her free hand, but doesn't take her an inch away from Regina. They remain face to face. So close that Regina's pained expression almost transfers to her own face.
"Did I hurt you?" A frightened and guilty question.
Regina swallows deeply, as if remembering how it's done, and shakes her head. "No. It's the poison being depleted," she stutters and hesitates before adding, "It still persists. I feel it. There are chinks."
It's perhaps the weirdest request for a kiss ever made. Or maybe a call for help. More likely, it's a little bit of both. What difference does it make? Emma is only happy to obligue.
So she nods and leans over in a docile pose until they meet again. This time Regina greets her before she even arrives and their breaths intermingle like her lips. They taste each other unhurriedly, with delicious meticulousness, so intimately that Emma's fingers tremble against the back of Regina's neck.
She hears a soft moan again and tries to pull away, worried, but Regina's hands catch her face and hold her. The kiss grows deeper, slower, and everything else just disappears.
Emma's heart pounds against her ribs, and she feels herself unravel. Something inside her dissolves in Regina's hands, retreats to her fingers and feet and threatens to evaporate. Suddenly, she feels weak, helpless, as if a part of her wants to leave forever.
She can't help but melt against Regina in a soft moan, imbued with the unexpectedness of this delicious and inexplicable kiss. But she won't renounce whatever it is that's leaving her, because she won't be left raw, unprotected. So she remains in control, and soon starts feeling the slipping essence crawling back to fill the nooks.
To be continued...