Henry had crawled into bed not long after eating. He'd refused help, rather vehemently, and had made the slow crawl up the stairs and into his room. Through the walls, Regina could hear the soft pounding of music, the sort of thing she'd become accustomed to over the years. It calmed him. It soothed him.
For a short while before the fire, if they ever got into an argument, he would go into his room and play music. She would always know he was upset then, because it wasn't soft beats, it wasn't calm melodies. It was harsher. It was in a key that, long ago, she would have been able to identify.
He was not upset tonight. He was at peace.
It left her and Emma in a familiar situation, just the two of them. She picked up dishes, she handed them off to Regina to put into the washer, and leaned against the wall.
"That was…Pleasant."
Regina had to agree. As she ducked down to put each piece of dishware into the washer, she couldn't help but keep her head turned away so that Emma could not see her smile. It felt familiar, it felt safe. Pleasant.
"Yes. Yes it was."
She closed the door, hit a button, and moved to assess Emma. She looked more at home in this place, now, as though she had found a little spot in the house.
"I should, uh. I should probably go."
Regina almost agreed. It would be the wise thing to do. Unless they wanted to repeat their ventures from the last time, which it seemed neither was thrilled to think about. Or rather, just didn't want to think about.
"Stay," she offered, for the second time tonight. She offered a hand, but let it drop, instead moving to the living room again. Emma found, once more, she had to follow. "Henry will be fast asleep soon."
She didn't know whether this was a good idea. Perhaps it would fall back on them in the worst ways. But Regina had the smallest amount of alcohol in her system, and who knew when she would get Emma by herself again? Who knew whether the woman would dart away? In her own right, Regina almost hoped this to happen, and on the other hand she feared it. She didn't wish to have another in her life. Lord, did she crave it, however. Even if it was only for the night.
Even if it would only be before it faded.
The sun was setting beautifully, casting shadows around the house. Wandering eyes that would flee by the time the stars came.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Emma asked, but she wasn't running away. No, she was running towards the woman in slow, timid steps.
"I don't make decisions lightly, Miss Swan."
Emma trailed until Regina stopped at the couch, and turned her head to the side.
"Do you, Miss Swan?"
She did. She so often did. She ran into things without thinking and then backed away. Perhaps that's why the pull was so prevalent. She didn't want to think about the consequences of the action she so wanted to take.
"Yes. But not tonight."
Regina seemed to accept this answer, casting her eyes to the window. The last sliver of light was disappearing, slowly moving downward. The shadows disappeared with it, sinking into the depths of the earth once more. Leave the lovers be. It was the earths sign.
"I must warn you, I am not an eloquent lover."
Everything else in the house spoke otherwise. But then, what was eloquent about what they wanted? It was an animalistic need.
"I'm not either."
"Well. That settles that, doesn't it?"
Emma did not follow her, for once. Instead, Regina cast her eyes to the side, where another room lay dormant, and Emma nodded slowly, moving towards the direction. Regina let her take lead.
It was the only way to make things fair.
The human body is an interesting thing.
It moves so easily within the confines of another. Human bodies are meant to be together.
As Emma ran her hands along the woman's body, she found marks, rises. There were scars on her body in the same way that there were no doubts scars on both womans minds. There was no halt in movement, no halt in taking in the other.
She decided that whatever she found on this night would not phase her.
Company was far enough reason to keep her planted.
She found that it was much more than even that.
It was a reminder of what adrenaline without running was like. It was the reminder of what voices in the dark told. It was the sound of nothingness surrounding them, embracing them, taking them in as one of their own.
It was the fact that shame was not a part of this.
Regina was right. She wasn't an eloquent lover.
But this, whatever it was, was something of poetry. Of art.
The music was gone by the time they woke up, and the sun starting to rise. Emma rose slowly with it, replacing cloths and making her way out of the room. There was no disturbance from Regina, who rested peacefully.
Here's to forbidden love, Swan.
She erased the picture from her mind. It was not the same situation. It wasn't even close.
This was not forbidden. There was hesitation between the two of them, a space that neither of them could touch. But that did not make it forbidden. No.
And if it had been, if the spaces made them untouchable, then she didn't much mind touching what was forbidden. Last night was worth it.
She shut the door silently and got into her car, driving to the fire hall for her next shift. Killian would give her a hard time for not yet being in uniform, and she would say not a word. Even if this was not forbidden, it was between the two of them for now. If anyone was to know first, if anyone had that right, it would be Henry.
She parked the car and moved into the hall, where Nathan was waiting to be relieved. He held up a hand to her and made his way out, already read to go. The constant moving in this place was without measure. Men and women waiting to go home to their families or their beds. Occasionally lingerers stayed to speak with friends while the sun made its grand entrance, talk of calls and family. Each story melting into the other.
This was a part of their trade. It was hard to separate the two.
Killian was already on the couch, flipping through channels when she came in. A familiar nod in her direction while she plopped down in the chair. Not a mention of uniform. Leave it be.
Let sleep overtake you, for there wasn't enough last night. Too much to explore, too much to feel for sleep.
Safety is an illusion. But she did feel it.
Regina had met Daniel on a camping experience. The kind that parents send their kids to so that they may have some peace. This particular one was a horse riding camp, and Regina had been excited.
The first few days had been nothing but boredom. Girls were harsh, they were mean, and they were below her in every respectable regard. It was hard to make friends when you had little in common, and harder still when Regina could barely register them.
She met Daniel when they were allowed to ride.
He had been her age, and had attained some kind of scholarship to go. His parents had been almost unwilling, but he'd begged, and they'd allowed it. He was an expert rider, Daniel. Almost like he had it in his blood.
Fear was not something he seemed to hold for her. They'd been partnered up, told that they were to look out for each other, and instead of scowling he'd offered her a hand. A small boy, short and skinny. Brown hair, torn jeans.
"Where you from?"
"New York."
"Me too!"
His grammer had appalled her, but she learned to get over it quickly. He spoke often enough that there were few holes for her to jump in, and she honestly didn't mind. He told such stories! Not worldly, not in the least, but he had the imagination to fill an entire world.
When they'd parted at the end of camp, she'd almost cried. He had managed to become her first real friend.
She saw him again in school, with the same torn jeans and baggy sweatshirt. He'd grinned and waved at her, and she'd found it almost impossible not to wave back. Her mother considered him a charity project, told her that if she wanted to befriend mutts than she may as well become one. Their friendship was tolerated only because Regina's father had spoken to Cora, telling her that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing for Regina to learn about those who were not like her.
She'll learn to associate with her own sooner than later, Henry.
School became easier with Daniel. He become a confidant. Any partnership that was chosen became a default, they two of them expected to stay around each other.
He'd found the bruise when they'd gone swimming.
"What's that from?"
"I fell." Another default. She didn't want to think of fists.
"Weird fall," he stated, glancing at her knowingly. She almost wished that he hadn't asked, that there wasn't knowing at all. Suspecting, perhaps, but not knowing. "Monsters chase you?"
That, too, became the default. Whenever she needed a place to stay, whenever she was scared, she told him of monsters. And he'd said he would chase them away, one day, when he was older and stronger. And he succeeded. He chased the monster away.
He was a hero.
It was a change, living without her hero. Her childhood friend. At first she had mourned, kept his note to her close to her chest. She'd followed the instructions he had given her, almost in a daze. And she didn't know if he knew it when he'd offered her that saving grace, her little boy, but he had once again become a hero. A hero to two people.
Whenever Henry asked of his father, she replied simply that he hadn't only fought for their country but for them. Henry wouldn't understand it, not until he was older, but one day he would understand that his father had brought them together. And this was the most important thing he could do for Regina.
As she awoke, not aching for a first, she wondered if Daniel had pulled the strings on this one, too.
She doubted it. She very much doubted the existence of an afterlife.
But it was nice to think about.
Nicer still to think that this was coincidence. That this had been a choice on both parts.