A/N: so many of you guys were so close with your predictions but no one got it exactly right! Anyway, onwards to the penultimate chapter – we're nearly done with these two ladies' story.
She clutched the soft bundle to her chest as she followed the guard down the corridor. Eyes cast to the floor, she focused on placing one foot in front of the other, a forced walk into the unknown.
"In here," the guard said, opening a door and ushering Emma inside.
She obeyed, finding herself in a small office and taking a seat on the far side of the desk. Behind her, a large window opened onto the corridor. Curious passers-by looked in, wondering who was new to the wing that day. The guard started filling in the paperwork, Emma obediently answering any of the questions she was posed.
"Can I keep my own clothes?" Emma asked as she was handed a blue prison issue outfit.
"If you like," the guard nodded. "But we recommend you change. Individuality isn't something most inmates strive for. Blend in. Keep your head down. And wearing these," she pointed to the pile of blue polyester, "helps make you one of the crowd."
Encouraging people to become the same as everyone else, rather than their own individual self, Emma mused. Well, that was the first difference between Storybrooke and Queensboro. Ruby had always promoted their capacity for self-expression and the ability to choose their own clothes had been an important part of that. Perhaps, for Emma, it had been even more significant after her time on the streets when clothes were found and stolen rather than chosen.
"Right, follow me," the guard said, snapping Emma out of her reverie.
The two of them walked out of the office and down the corridor. Various rooms were pointed out to her as she passed including the large canteen, out of which loud voices spilled. It was lunch time. Emma, however, wasn't hungry. She had barely eaten breakfast at Storybrooke that morning either, the nerves making her too unsettled for food.
"Um, when's visitation?" she asked.
"Weekdays between one and five. Weekends are nine until two. Slots are thirty minutes long. First come, first serve for the sittings," the guard replied. "Why? You got someone who's going to come and visit you?"
"Maybe," Emma shrugged. In truth, she had no idea whether Regina was going to visit her. At their last meeting as part of the RJP, the teen had promised to come but they had no idea where Emma was to be relocated to at that time. Now, it was all down to Ruby to get in contact with Regina and tell her where to find Emma. What if she didn't? What if Ruby didn't pass on the information to August? What if August didn't pass on the information to Regina? Or, worse, what if they did and Regina didn't come?
"This is yours," the guard said, stopping in the doorway to a cell which looked surprisingly similar to the room she had shared with MM. "You'll be on the bottom bunk. Your cellie is probably at lunch. She's nice, quiet, keeps to herself. You'll be fine."
"Thanks," Emma replied, stepping inside. "Um, can I like, make phone calls or anything?"
"Sure," the guard nodded. "Phones are available all day but there's a fifteen minute limit per call. We'll need to screen the numbers and approve them before you can make the calls. You buy credit from the commissary."
"Oh," Emma said, realisation hitting her.
"There'll be twenty bucks in there to start you off," the guard said, sensing the problem without Emma needing to voice it. "You can have someone on the outside add more."
Yeah, right, Emma thought to herself. And, she mused, it wasn't like she had a phone number for Regina anyway. She hadn't ever asked about phone calls at Storybrooke although she was confident they had the capacity to allow the juveniles to call their families. But Emma wouldn't have been allowed to call Regina due to her status as 'Emma's Victim', so she had never thought to ask for the brunette's number.
"Right, need anything else?" the guard said, clearly impatient to get on with the next task on her list.
"No, I'm good, thanks," Emma replied.
"Ok, well, good luck. And remember; head down. You'll be out of here in no time."
Emma nodded and moved further into her new bedroom, placing her small sack of possessions on the bed and sitting down beside it. Worst eighteenth birthday ever? she wondered as she kicked off her shoes and curled up on the scratchy blanket. Probably. But she didn't even have time to wallow in her own misfortune before a slight figure appeared in the doorway. Emma pushed herself into a sitting position at once.
"Hi," she said to the woman who was presumably her bunkmate.
"Hi," the young woman said, stepping into the room. "You're new?"
"Yeah," Emma replied. "I'm Emma."
"Mulan," the woman offered as she climbed up the ladder to her bunk.
Was that a first or a last name? Emma wondered. Should she have said 'Swan'? People went by their first names in Storybrooke but perhaps the television portrayal of adult prisons where everyone was known by a surname was correct.
"Swan," she added after an overly long pause.
A head appeared over the edge of the bunk, peering down at her with a frown. "What?"
"Swan," Emma repeated. "My name is Swan."
"Like the bird?"
"Yeah," Emma nodded. "I mean, my full name is Emma Swan."
The woman above her hesitated and then; "ok." She disappeared from view and Emma was still left wondering whether Mulan was a first or second name.
Standing at the large bay window, Regina looked out onto the sunny street beyond. It was a hot July day and the park was packed with families enjoying the warm weather. She watched as a father and son kicked a soccer back and forth, bundles of discarded clothing marking a makeshift goal through which the ball infrequently soared.
"So, Princess, what do you think?"
Regina turned to see her father and the real estate agent standing side by side, waiting expectantly. "Daddy, I told you, I'd rather stay in college accommodation for the first year. I don't need my own place and I don't need a four bedroom town house."
"Yes, but you can live here in second year," Henry pointed out. "And maybe you won't like the halls of residence."
"Daddy, we toured them last summer. They're amazing."
"Yes, but if you had this house too, then at least you can have a space which is yours so when you want to escape, you can come here. Plus, you can move in here with your friends in second year rather than having to find an apartment."
While it was true that Regina was going to need somewhere to live during the later years of her studies, she was resistant to turning up as a college freshman and the owner of a grand townhouse, a stone's throw from the campus. She wanted the full college experience and she wanted to be a part of life within the halls of residence. Her father, however, wanted to buy her a townhouse and seemed set in his determination to do so.
"So, I don't have to live here full time at first, right? You're ok with me living on campus with the other first years?"
"If that's what you want, yes," Henry replied. "But you'll have this place and you can use it whenever you want. And in second year, you and your friends can live here. That's why I thought a house would be better than an apartment, right?"
"I suppose," Regina nodded.
"And I'll get you a housekeeper and cook and -"
"Daddy, no, please," Regina interrupted. "I don't need to be looked after. I'd actually like the challenge of living independently for once.
"But -"
"No, please let me do this," Regina insisted. "If you want to make sure I have somewhere nice to live, then that's fine. I'm grateful for that, of course. But I would like to experience some normal elements of college life and that includes cooking and cleaning for myself."
"Cleaning?" Henry repeated aghast. "No, Regina, I'm getting you a cleaner at least. Especially if you're not going to be here full time in the first year. We'll need someone to come in weekly and make sure everything is ok."
"Fine," Regina acquiesced. "You can hire a cleaner but that's it."
Henry looked like he was about to argue but after a moment, nodded his head. "Ok," he said, turning to the estate agent. "We'll take it. How long until we can close?"
"I'll get the paperwork drawn up this afternoon. We can arrange a building inspection for next week."
"I have my own guy for that," Henry said. "Let me give you his details."
Regina left the two of them talking business and wandered off through the townhouse. It was a beautiful property. And while she didn't need it and was planning to spend most of her time in the halls of residence, she couldn't help but smile as she walked into the master bedroom upstairs and took in the view from the window. The iconic towers of Yale's buildings were right there, proud and majestic and surrounded by greenery. There were only a few students in the city at the time, the summer holiday having driven most of them home to their families.
Leaning on the windowsill, Regina looked for the family in the park she had been watching earlier. They were now sat on a rug, eating food from a hamper. The man was lying down, a young baby, resting on his bare chest. The mother was trying to rub more sun cream into the boy's face as the child squirmed away. She smiled at the sight. Ok, perhaps this property was a good idea. She could imagine herself living here.
With Emma, her brain supplied. The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks. She and Emma had never discussed what was going to happen in the fall. The blonde knew Regina had her place at Yale but Emma's plans had not ever been vocalised. It was something she could ask about tomorrow when she visited, Regina mused. She allowed her mind to wander to the blonde, as it so often did, and pondered how her first day in Queensboro was going. It must be scary, she thought, to be moving to a new prison and one with women of all ages, convicted of all different crimes.
August had called the previous day to let her know of Emma's movements. Regina had wasted no time researching her visitation rights and planned to spend her Saturday morning out at the correction facility. She had been unable to get in contact with Emma to let her know but hoped the blonde would be happy about the surprise. Should she tell her about the house? About the image her mind had conjured of the two of them sitting at the breakfast bar downstairs on a Sunday morning, wrapped in silk robes, sipping coffee and planning their day in New Haven together?
"Regina!" her father called from downstairs. "We're leaving."
Standing up from the edge of the bed on which she had perched to daydream, Regina took one more look at the room before heading down towards her father.
Head down, blend in, keep your nose clean, Emma thought to herself as she walked down the corridor to breakfast on her first morning in Queensboro. Mulan had already left by the time Emma got back from showering. Not a talker, Emma had discovered. But that was ok. She only had two more months until, hopefully, her parole would be granted. She didn't need friends. She needed to get through this time and get out.
Joining the line for food, she shuffled forwards to receive her breakfast. Rubbery scrambled eggs on toast and some undercooked bacon. She poured herself a coffee and, after sipping it, added two sugars in an attempt to cover the bitterness. The result was unpleasant but palatable. Turning, she surveyed the room. Was this like television too? Were there cliques she had to avoid and tables she wasn't allowed to sit at? Better safe than sorry, she decided, heading for an empty table and sliding onto the bench.
"Swan."
She choked on the sip of coffee she had taken and spluttered as she looked up into the face of the prison guard standing beside her.
"Yes sir," she said, heart pounding.
"There's a visitor here for you. Ten am slot. You know where the visitation room is?"
"A visitor?"
"Yeah," the guard said. "End of the corridor, turn left."
Before Emma could ask any questions, the guard moved off to inform another inmate that there was a visitor waiting. Emma stared dumbfounded after the guard before returning to her forgotten breakfast and resuming eating. A visitor. Regina? Surely it was too soon. She'd only been there for one day. Would Ruby even have passed the details along? Forcing herself to finish her breakfast, she gulped down the coffee and stood up. The clock told her she had five minutes before she met her visitor. Depositing her tray along with the other dirty plates and cups, she made her way out of the dining room, down the corridor and turned left.
Already there were a number of prisoners loitering, waiting for their visitation to start. Emma leaned against the wall and stared at her feet, not wanting to engage in conversation with anyone. It wasn't long before the door was opened and the women who had been in the earlier sitting filed out after which a guard appeared with a clipboard. In a surprisingly orderly manner, the waiting women walked inside. Emma was the last to reach the guard.
"Name?" he asked, when he realised he didn't recognise her.
"Emma Swan," she replied.
He scanned the list before him, turned the page and then tapped the tip of his pen. "Yep, go on in." A tick landed next to Emma's name and the man flicked the paperwork back into place.
"Um, thanks but who is here to see me?" Emma asked.
The man frowned at her. "You weren't expecting a visitor?"
"Not exactly," Emma replied.
"Fine," the man sighed, turning back to the page where Emma's information was as if the request was a great inconvenience for him. "Um, Mills," he read. "Regina Mills."
She was here, Emma thought to herself. She had come. Ruby and August had passed on the details and Regina had come to visit her. With the guard waiting somewhat patiently at the entrance to the visitation room, Emma moved forwards.
The space beyond was larger than she expected. It was loud too, with women in blue prison uniforms sitting one to a table. Friends and family alike were scattered throughout the room and a number of children were also present. What a way to spend a Saturday, Emma mused; visiting your mother in prison. That said, Regina was giving up her Saturday morning to visit Emma. It was surely not the way the brunette was used to spending her weekend.
"Emma."
The sound of her name, said in that sexy, husky way, drew Emma's eyes to the far corner of the room. Regina was standing up, smiling shyly at her. A broad grin spread involuntarily over Emma's face and she weaved her way as fast as possible through the crowded room until she reached the brunette.
"Hey," she said, stopping short with less than a foot separating them.
"We can hug," Regina prompted. "I asked."
"Oh, thank God," Emma breathed, throwing her arms around Regina and holding her tightly. "You're really here," she murmured as Regina's arms wrapped around her.
"I really am," Regina replied, the words muffled in Emma's hair.
"Long enough, Swan," came a gruff voice.
The two broke apart to see the guard who had signed Emma into the room standing beside them, clearly having been watching their hug. Emma nodded and stepped away, gesturing that the two of them should take a seat.
"So, August told you?" Emma asked.
"Yes," Regina nodded.
"I wasn't sure you'd get the message," Emma said. "Actually, I wasn't sure you'd come."
Regina's forehead creased. "What on earth would make you think I wouldn't come? As soon as I found out where you were, I organised to come here. And I'm going to be visiting every Saturday from now on. I promise."
"Really?" Emma asked, a hint of incredulity.
"Truly," Regina replied. "Except for, well, I mean, I start college in five weeks."
"Oh," Emma said. "Yeah, I forgot about that. Yale."
"Yale," Regina nodded. "But I can come down at weekends and see you."
"No, don't worry. I'll hopefully only have three weeks left by then. I don't want you to miss out on all those fun first year events which happens. Parties and bonding and stuff."
"I don't mind," Regina insisted.
"But maybe I do," Emma replied. "I don't want you to compromise your education because of me. Especially not when you've been my inspiration."
"Inspiration? For what?"
Emma bit her lip. She hadn't planned to tell Regina yet. She wasn't going to say anything until her application had been accepted. If it was rejected, she may never have admitted her plan, embarrassed by her own optimism. But now she had to say something. "I've applied for college," she said eventually.
Regina's jaw dropped. "Seriously? At Yale?"
"No," Emma chuckled. "God, no. I'm not that bright."
The brunette suddenly realised how presumptuous she had been. Why would Emma had applied to go to the same college as her. For all she knew, Emma could have applied to a school on the west coast. She could be moving, leaving Regina and the memories of New York and starting a new life far away. "So, um, where are you applying?"
"Southern Connecticut," Emma said. "To do a BA in psychology."
"Southern Connecticut State? That's in New Haven."
Emma smiled slightly. "Yeah, it is."
"You're … you're moving to New Haven?"
"Well, I mean there are a lot of maybes before that happens. I've gotta get accepted into this course first. Then I have to get the financial aid scholarship I've applied for. Oh, and I've gotta get parole from here and then have my parole officer reassigned to a different state. I suppose that's actually the first step. Ruby says it's possible though. She's been amazing. Fighting my corner and pushing me to apply and think about my future. But I'm not there yet. If I get accepted, I can start in Spring 2020 though."
"Emma that's amazing," Regina said, smiling broadly. "I'm so proud of you."
"Don't be proud yet. I've not been accepted."
"Yes but you will be, I can feel it."
Emma couldn't help but smile too. "I hope so. I wasn't going to tell you until it was all official but … I mean, do you mind? I don't want you to feel like I'm following you or anything."
Reaching across the table, Regina grasped Emma's hand. "Honey, I'm so happy for you and for us. I wanted to ask you what your plans were and I wanted to suggest something like this but I didn't want to push. I can't believe you've done this. I mean, we're going to be together. Properly together in two months."
"No sustained contact," a guard said, passing their table and noticing their entwined fingers.
Regina shot him a scathing look but untangled herself. Emma ducked her head, not wanting to get on the wrong side of any guards.
"Well, I won't be moving up to school until January," Emma reminded her, recommencing their conversation. "If I get in, that is."
"Where will you be living before then?"
Emma shrugged. "Ruby said there are places I can stay in the city. Shelters and stuff."
"No, Emma. Come to New Haven. As soon as you're out, please."
"And sleep on the floor of your student residences?"
"Actually, Daddy bought a townhouse yesterday," Regina admitted, blushing at the absurdity of the statement given where they were sitting. So often in her life, she was surrounded by other wealthy people but sometimes her privileged status smacked her in the face. "I've told him I'll be living in college halls but he wants me to have it for second year. You can live there though."
"Regina, I can't do that," Emma protested. "It would be weird. And I couldn't pay rent. Your dad wouldn't allow it."
"It's not Daddy's house, it's mine," Regina replied. "And I do allow it. Please, Emma. Please let me help you with this. You can't stay in a shelter. If you're going to start this new chapter in your life, please let me at least provide you with somewhere safe and warm and clean to live."
Emma chewed her lip. It was an amazing offer; generous and kind and so completely Regina. But it was also a huge thing to propose; a big step forwards in their relationship.
"Can I think about it?" Emma said eventually.
The older teen looked a little disappointed but nodded. "Ok," she replied.
"Five more minutes." The announcement boomed over the heads of the visitors and prisoners alike.
"Shit, that went fast," Regina sighed.
"But at least we can actually talk now. You realise this is the first time it's been the two of us without someone listening since last September?"
"And just think, when we live together, we can be alone all the time."
"Like hermits?"
Regina laughed. "Yes, like hermits. Hermits in love."
"I'll take that," Emma grinned.
"Is that a yes to moving into my house?" Regina asked optimistically.
"It's an, 'I'll think about it, hermit'," Emma chuckled. "One step at a time, ok?"
"Ok," Regina nodded.
"Hey, can I get your phone number? I can call you in here if I add your number to my list of approved calls."
"Oh, I almost forgot." Reaching down to the floor, Regina placed a small package on the table, the paper slightly untucked. "Sorry, it was wrapped more nicely but security insisted on unwrapping it. My number is written on the gift card. They phoned it while I was being screened just to confirm it was me not some drug dealer. Anyway, happy eighteenth birthday."
Emma picked up the present which was pushed towards her and untucked the corner of the crumpled paper.
"It's not much," Regina pressed. "I didn't think it was a good idea to give you anything valuable in here. Maybe we can celebrate again when you're out in two months."
Emma pulled off the paper and grinned at what she saw. "This is awesome, thank you. The soap they give you in here is crap and I don't have money in my commissary to buy better stuff."
"It smells amazing too," Regina said, lifting the handmade bar up and making Emma inhale its scent. "Apple and cinnamon."
"Oh, that's so good. I feel like I could eat it."
Regina chuckled. "I wouldn't recommend that, but I'm glad you like it."
"It's perfect, thank you," Emma said, just as a guard shouted over the room that visitation was over.
Emma got to her feet, the soap clasped in one hand. Regina stood too, wishing she could stay longer and already looking forwards to next week. "Well, it was good to see you," she smiled. "I'll be back next Saturday."
"Thank you for coming," Emma said. "And you don't have to come every week. If it's too far or -"
"Emma, I'm coming every week," Regina interrupted. "And the day you're released, I'll be here to pick you up."
"If I get parole," Emma reminded her.
"When you get parole," Regina corrected. "Think positive, honey. Everything is going to work out for us. I can feel it."
Four stony faces gazed impassively at her as she got to her feet. Her heart pounded in her ribcage as she prepared to give what was likely to be one of the most important speeches of her life.
"I have been incarcerated for a year now," Emma began, "and I have learned a lot. I have learned that I don't want to go back to the person I was in the bank that day. And I have learned what I need to do to make sure that doesn't happen. I have a plan; a plan for a future which I hope and believe will transform me into a productive, valuable member of society.
"I have recently received an acceptance letter from Southern Connecticut State University to study psychology. This is the first step in my plan to become a counsellor for young people who have lost their way and made mistakes. I was inspired to pursue this career after spending time at Storybrooke Juvenile Centre where I worked hard to address not only the events which led to my sentencing but also how I can make sure my life never takes a turn in that direction again. My counsellor, Ruby Lucas, was instrumental in me finding a new path in life and I would love to do the same for other young people like me.
"My hope is that my personal experiences can be used as a force for good and with the right training, I will be able to help other youngsters who may be heading down the wrong path. My time here has been invaluable in teaching me the importance of good role models, a strong support system and recognising your own personal capacity and ability. I regret what I did that day, but I cannot regret the time I have spent both here and in Storybrooke because without these places, I would not be the person I am today. This time has allowed me to see a positive future for myself and to put a plan in place which I am committed to following to achieve my goals. For that I am grateful and while I will always regret the events which led me to being here, I now recognise the value which this experience has provided.
"I am ready to be a productive, law-abiding United States citizen and I am looking forward to the challenges and opportunities which lie ahead."
After a pause, Emma sat back down and waited.
A/N: I mean, there's one chapter left so I think you can guess what happens. Also, the next chapter will bump the rating of this fic up to M. I know, it's the longest I've ever gone without writing smut! But I think these ladies have waited long enough, right?