A/N: Happy Sunday people!
The first thing she registered when she woke up was the warmth pressed against her back. The second thing she registered was whose body that warmth belonged to. She froze.
Emma's mind went into overdrive. She was lying on her side of the bed, near the edge, facing the room. This was good, she decided. A part of her sleeping brain had managed to stop her from migrating towards the woman with whom she was sharing a bed. Emma was a snuggler, always had been. And she had been worried that while she was asleep, she might have wrapped Regina into an unwanted embrace. The last time Regina had asked her to hold her while she slept, she'd woken up shouting for Emma to get away. Emma knew that wasn't about her touch and had been to do with the heroin withdrawals, but it had still been a concern. She didn't ever want to touch Regina without her consent. But she needn't have worried about her sleeping tendencies that night.
Instead, it appeared to be Regina whose body had subconsciously instigated contact. At least, it appeared to be subconscious. Judging by the slow, steady breath which puffed against the bare skin at the nape of Emma's neck, Regina was still asleep. Now what? Should she move? Would Regina wake up panicked again? Would she feel guilty or embarrassed for the way she was … Emma took stock of their positions … yep, clinging to Emma?
Regina's arm was not just draped over Emma's waist but her hand was curled around, pressing against Emma's stomach and pulling their bodies flush together. Against the bare backs of her knees, she could feel Regina's legs, slotted perfectly into the nook they created. This wasn't just a sleep-induced snuggle. This was the very definition of spooning.
Emma suddenly felt hot. The duvet had been replaced with a lighter one but the warm summer air in the room, combined with the body contact was too much. And yet, she didn't move. She didn't move because she didn't want to wake Regina. Goodness knows the woman needed rest. But also, well, Emma had to admit it felt not unpleasant to be wrapped in Regina's arms.
Behind her, Regina let out a little sigh and shuffled impossibly closer. Emma felt a smile spread across her face and decided to try and get some more sleep too.
The next time she woke, Emma was alone. She rolled over, expecting to see Regina on her side of the bed but it was empty. Reaching for her phone on the nightstand, she saw that it was shortly after nine. She lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. She was still exhausted and was relieved that she wouldn't have to go into work for three whole days. She loved her job but sometimes she needed a break to recharge her batteries.
At that moment, she registered the sound of water running and surmised that Regina must have gone for a shower. She wondered whether the two of them had still been spooning when the brunette had woken up. Deciding that she wouldn't say anything unless Regina brought it up, Emma got out of bed and straightened the duvet before heading out fo the bedroom and upstairs to her own where she set about getting ready for the day.
By the time she was dressed and had towel dried her hair, she realised she was ravenous. For a moment, she wondered whether Regina might want to go out and grab some brunch but then she remembered that the other woman wouldn't feel comfortable leaving the house. With Killian still out there, presumably still looking for her, there was no way that Regina would be walking around the streets of London. Even with millions of people in the city, she knew the brunette would not want to risk it. And frankly, Emma wasn't going to risk it either. She didn't know what she would do if Killian managed to find and kidnap Regina.
Suddenly fuming, Emma had to force herself to take a deep breath before heading downstairs. Regina didn't need to see Emma's anger at a hypothetical situation of which they were, admittedly, both afraid may happen.
In the kitchen, she was unsurprised to find Regina, whose own hair was also still damp. She looked up from the stove where she appeared to be making pancakes and greeted Emma.
"Good morning," Emma said, sliding onto a barstool. "Are you making me breakfast?"
"I am," Regina nodded. "It's the least I can do, right? After everything you've done for me already, pancakes seem like just a small way to show you how much I appreciate it."
"I love pancakes," Emma grinned. "But you don't have to cook for me, you know that, right?"
"I do know that. But I like cooking and it makes me feel useful," Regina explained, flipping a pancake as she did so. "Now, I couldn't find any maple syrup so is lemon and sugar ok?"
Emma nodded enthusiastically and set about gathering the toppings and moving them to the dining table. She also carried over their mugs of coffee which Regina had prepared just as the woman herself presented a stack of paper-thin, perfectly cooked pancakes.
"These look delicious," Emma said, practically salivating at the feast in front of her.
Regina gestured for the blonde to dig in which Emma did with gusto and the two of them were quiet as they ate their first three pancakes. After taking a sip of her coffee, Emma remembered that Regina needed her methadone.
"Emma, it's fine. I can take it after breakfast," Regina protested as Emma got up and headed towards her bedroom. They had both decided that the medicine needed to be kept somewhere Regina didn't know so that her dose could be correctly controlled. If she needed more, that was fine. But she had to ask Emma for it so that they both knew how much was being taken.
Insisting that taking the medicine at a similar time every day was important, Emma disappeared upstairs to gather what they needed. Regina stopped eating. She didn't want to continue the breakfast without Emma but she was also wanted to save some pancake to wash down the methadone. Five minutes later, her allotted dose had been administered and Emma was rinsing out the cup.
"Thank you," Regina said quietly as Emma sat back down.
"You're welcome," Emma replied.
There was another silence as the two resumed their breakfast of now cold pancakes. It was Regina who spoke again.
"I wanted to say thank you for last night too. And to apologise."
"You don't need to thank me, or apologise," Emma said gently. "But you're welcome."
"I know I said I didn't need you to stay but I'm glad you offered and I'm glad I accepted. It was nice to have someone else there. When I woke in the night, I didn't feel scared for the first time in a long time."
"You woke up?"
Regina nodded. "Yeah, I've never been great at sleeping. I wake up every couple of hours. Not for long. Usually I just roll over and I can go back to sleep. But when there's someone else in my bed, it makes me feel a little bit safer. I didn't wake you by moving, did I?"
"No," Emma assured her. "I slept fine." She decided not to mention when she'd woken up as the little spoon. Judging by what Regina had said, the woman probably already knew and Emma didn't want to make her feel in any way embarrassed.
Regina smiled slightly and took a mouthful of coffee. "So, you've got three days off. Any plans?"
Shaking her head, Emma started to gather their plates and set about tidying up their breakfast. "Not really. I have to get my mum a birthday present and I should probably check my emails and just do general life admin. Adulting stuff. I just want to sleep, to be honest. I'm exhausted."
"You work really hard. You deserve a break," Regina said, getting up and helping Emma even though the blonde tried to bat her away. "Let me know if I can help with any of that adulting stuff by the way."
"You want to pick out a present for my mother?" Emma asked, an eyebrow raised as she ran the tap to start washing up the pan and coffee percolator as Regina stacked the dishwasher.
"No, but I mean around the house. I want to be useful. I don't want to be another thing you have to be responsible for or something else to add to your to do list."
Emma reached out a sudsy hand and grasped Regina's wrist, pausing the brunette in her loading of the dishwasher. "Hey, don't say things like that. And definitely don't refer to yourself as a thing. You're not a thing on my to do list. You're a person, a friend. You're not someone I feel responsible for. I mean, I guess I do feel some responsibility to keep you safe but I want to feel that way. I like you, Regina. You're my friend. And it's ok for friends to help each other."
"We're not friends," Regina replied. "You barely know me."
"I like you," Emma repeated, her heart quickening as she registered the double meaning of the words. "Regina, you're a good person who's had horrible things done to them. You don't deserve what happened but you do deserve a better life, a chance at a better life. And I want to help you, it's as simple as that. You're not a responsibility or a burden or a chore or whatever else you want to label yourself as. You are my friend, ok? I don't care how long I've known you, I consider you my friend. And I'll do whatever I can to help my friends because I care about them and I want them to be safe and happy. That's what I want for you too."
Ducking her head, Regina swiped at her eyes. Emma let go of Regina's wrist, allowing her to turn away. She didn't want to overwhelm Regina, but she did want her to know how she felt. Well, at least, she wanted Regina to know that Emma genuinely was happy to help and wanted to make sure Regina was safe.
"I'm, um, I'm going upstairs for a bit," Regina muttered. "Are you -?"
"Go, I'll finish off down here," Emma replied.
She watched the woman hurry away, wondering whether she shouldn't have been quite so forward. Maybe Regina wasn't ready to hear someone still cared about her. Maybe it was too much. Maybe after everything she'd been through, it wasn't something she could even believe any more.
And yet, Emma knew that Regina was loved by her family. Not Killian, of course. If there was an award for worst uncle ever, he would surely win it. But Regina's parents had loved her. They still loved her. They had sent her to the UK for a better life, for a career. What were they thinking right now? Were they worried that they hadn't heard from their daughter in a week? Had they spoken to Killian? What had he told them? There were so many questions and so few answers, Emma mused as she set about cleaning the kitchen and setting everything in its rightful place.
Regina had barely mentioned her parents in the conversations they'd had about Puerto Rico. Emma assumed that it was too painful to think of them and she understood that. But what were they going through? Surely it was Regina's duty to let them know she was safe. But how to do that without alerting Killian? Regina would have to tell them the truth and Emma didn't think she was ready for that. She couldn't even imagine how to start that conversation with her parents.
Her father, however, would know what to do. It was his job to help people like Regina, to speak with them and their families, their loved ones, their support network. If there was anyone who could help a survivor tell their truth, it was her father.
Regina wasn't ready for that either, Emma knew. She didn't want to even broach the subject of reporting her trafficking to the police. Whatever came next had to be on Regina's terms, particularly because it wasn't just getting the authorities involved, it was her father. She couldn't push Regina. But she did wish she could relieve some of the woman's pain as she began to heal.
Once the kitchen was clean, Regina still hadn't reappeared. Emma waited another fifteen minutes, scribbling a to do list for her three days off as she passed the time. But when there remained no sign that the brunette was coming back downstairs, Emma decided to go up. Under the guise of seeing if Regina had any particular requests for the food run which was her first task of the day, Emma climbed the stairs and knocked on the closed door of the guest room.
"Regina, are you ok?" she called through the white painted wood.
"Yep, I'm fine," came an unconvincing reply, the words thick with emotion.
Emma decided not to challenge the woman. "I'm heading to the shops. Aside from basics like milk and bread, is there anything you want?"
"No, thank you."
She knew she should leave, should respect Regina's need to be alone and to work through whatever emotions had surfaced, but the thought of Regina crying on the other side of the door made Emma's heart crack. "Regina, can I come in?"
There was a pause before a quiet "ok," gave Emma permission to turn the handle. The room was gloomy; the curtains had either never been drawn or pulled back to block out the sunlight. Regina was on the bed, on top of the duvet, in the foetal position.
"Regina," Emma whispered, "are you ok?"
"No."
It was a small word but a big admission. Although both women knew Regina was far from ok in the grand scheme of things, having this fact verbalised was a step forwards. It was an admittance, a move towards acceptance. And another shift in the right direction as Regina began her journey of healing.
Emma sank onto the bed. "Can I give you a hug?" she asked.
"Ok," came the sniffled response.
She moved up the bed and lay down before curling her body slowly around Regina's shorter frame. Her arm came around, fingers finding Regina's where they were tucked beneath her chin and intertwining their digits together. She slotted the rest of herself against Regina, their positions not dissimilar to how she had woken to find the two of them earlier that morning. "Is this alright?" she asked once she'd settled, not wanting to do anything that Regina wasn't comfortable with.
"Yes."
Emma lay still, feeling the ragged breaths of Regina's trembling body. She wished she could do more. She wished she could take the pain away. She wished she could erase the memories and the hurt and the trauma. But she couldn't. At least, not immediately. Over time, perhaps this would fade. Regina had survived the worst of what life could be for a person, she knew that. From now on, her life would get better. But in that moment, Emma wished she could fast forward. She hated seeing Regina like this. She hated seeing her so upset, so traumatised, so small.
The fingers between her own curled a little tighter and Emma shuffled closer, her nose now buried in Regina's hair, faintly damp still from the shower. "I'm here," she whispered, the words lost in the dark tendrils.
"Don't leave me."
Emma's heart splintered once more. "Never," she murmured, her lips pressing against the back of Regina's skull, an involuntary, reactive movement. "I'll never leave."
"I can't do this alone, Emma," Regina sobbed.
"And you don't have to," Emma assured her, pressing her body even more firmly against Regina's, as a reminder to the brunette that she was right there. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you, I promise."
Fresh cries burst into the room. Regina had stopped holding back and allowed the anguish to spill over. She shook and moaned, trembling and sobbing, her body wrapped up in Emma's embrace. Emma cried too. It was impossible for her not to. The pain of Regina's life seeped into her own soul as she held the woman close to her body. But she tried to hide her emotions, knowing that the blonde's sadness wasn't what Regina needed. So she cried silently, her tears soaking into Regina's hair as she kept her strong grip on the slender fingers. That was what Regina needed; to know Emma was there.
Eventually, Regina fell silent, her breathing still ragged but slowing, calming. Emma's emotions too came back under control and she felt her cheeks start to dry, the saltiness of her tears leaving her skin feeling tight. Neither woman moved. Neither wanted to. Neither needed to. Regina fell asleep first but Emma wasn't far behind, their bodies once again slotted against one another, fitting perfectly into the gap left by the other.
A/N: So, pancakes in the UK are I think what Americans call crepes. What you guys call pancakes we call American pancakes. Anyway, sorry to talk pancakes after all the emotion. We're getting closer, I promise!