Disclaimer: I do not own the show or these characters.
Shore Leave
"Oh my god. Look at it, Regina. It's huge!"
"I've had bigger."
"Way to make a girl feel special," Emma mumbled. Her focus turned back to the object of her desire. "Here I go!"
Emma took a swan dive, flopping face down. The queen bed fit her Vitruvian Man locus and then some.
"I live with a child."
"Regina, we could swim in these sheets!"
"I take that back. I live with an infant." Regina dragged their suitcases further into their suite (alone because her travel companion was currently doing Olympic jumps on the bed). "Emma!" she censured. "Don't wrinkle the sheets. We just got here, for heaven's sake. "
Lying comfortably on her stomach, Emma supported her chin in hands. "What's got you all in a snit?"
"Be an adult for five seconds and help me with these bags."
Emma grumbled something about why the witch couldn't just use magic and then rolled off the bed for the helpless woman. "There. All done." Relieved of her duty, she soared back onto the bed, rolling and rutting in the cozy comforter and knocking the pillows askew with a big, old smile plastered on her face. Emma caught a glare from Regina. "What?"
"You are messing the sheets."
Emma paused for a beat. "So?"
"So," Regina's face melted into her 'sexy face' as Emma called it, complete with half-smirk, hooded lashes, and a hint of a blush, "I want them to be clean, so that we can dirty them up for later. You can't fault me for wanting that, can you?"
"Absolutely not, I can't."
"Princess, we have to work on your sentence structure."
"I can think of more important things to work on. You were saying something about back pain on the way up here?"
Well, well, well. The student was learning after all.
A smile gradually developed. "I didn't think you were listening."
"Cupcake," sighed Emma, "it's kind of hard not to listen to your bitching and moaning."
"The use of my nickname will not soften that blow. You are in for it tonight, dear."
"Oh," Emma's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, "what's my punishment?"
Though she indeed had penances lined up for the disobedient blonde, Regina played up a sulking pout. "I thought you preferred my softer, affectionate ways."
"Regina, if you will be so kind to take the following into consideration." Sitting cross-legged on the bed and clasping her hands before her, Emma presented her talking points with political precision. "Hook gave us 24 hours of shore leave on a magical island that rivals most Carnival excursions I've stowawayed on. Now, somehow – I can't prove it but I'm pretty sure you had something to do with it – somehow we got comped to the presidential suite here at this nice little resort. We get free meals, drinks, and a private deck with Jacuzzi. We are in a HUGE bed fit for an evil queen and a savior, and miles from my parents. The last thing on my mind, dear, is slow, quiet sex."
"Oh," Regina replied, approaching the bed stealthily, "well if you insist."
"I insist from here to the moon."
Emma yanked her the last foot and they went tumbling back into the soft bed. Regina straddled Emma's hips and fingered the hands stretching out to her. Her patience would be rewarded, she knew. Luxuriating in the sight of splayed golden hair that would run and sparkle through her hands come morning light, Regina knew this time would be different. Watching Emma bend under her and eventually come upon command of her mouth and fingers would be different.
Then she scoffed at the inanity of it; she was far from a virgin and hardly prudish about the act. She was not a bright-eyed, love-struck teenager blushing at the thought of someone taking her virtue. It was different for the plain fact that she could have Emma in an entirely new light (literally).
The suite was a far cry from their shared cabin on the ship. It was a well-known fact that the Jolly Roger's cots were limp with no spring. The sex was astonishing and beyond anything she had ever experienced, but limiting in terms of the mattress's dimensions. Where the cabin was a damp, shadowy, bleak room the size of a college dorm room, the suite was an expansive place filled with silver tea sets, full length mirrors, carved portrayals of angels and Celtic knots into every single piece of pearl shaded furniture. The whole room was a mix of ivory and silver and the thick bathrobes, bedclothes, and curtains daubed in grey. Floor-to-ceiling double doors led out to a balcony. Regina believed that her lover's fatigued, sweat stained body would look beautiful in the moonlight streaming in from those panels. Everything shined and sparkled and reflected. The suite certainly lived up to its name – a name that neither Emma nor Regina had the stones to voice.
So while this was not her first time with Emma, her feelings of simpleton affection for the blonde were rapidly transforming into more complexity. And what shocked her beyond anything was that it had nothing to do with sex or the newfound privacy to have it.
It did not come as a surprise to Regina how novel the experience was for Emma as well. A long time ago, the woman had lived on very little, moving from one discount motel to the next until she stumbled upon a low rent apartment with few cockroaches. Expectations were low, handouts rejected. Emma never once complained about their cot aboard the Jolly Roger because she was familiar with the substandard.
It was why Regina waved some Jedi mind trick on the resort manager, bumping them up to a master suite. Regina found herself wanting to do more of these things for Emma. Little kindnesses that brought up a smile when a long lost jacket appeared out of thin air, polished and smelling of coffee and French fries. When a squeal of delight arose at a tower of bear claws that materialized on her breakfast plate one morning. Or when a selfless turn of magic resulted in regression to adolescence and bouncing on the bed like the happiest 29-year-old in the world. And so it made Regina smile, too. It made her heart grow two sizes larger and it made her want to cry in happiness.
After a series of demanding kisses they broke apart. It did not escape them that in the midst of making out their hands had found creative ways to divest half the clothing from their figures.
Rolling Regina onto her back, Emma kissed along a jaw. She interlaced their fingers and stretched them to the sides of the bed. She loved how there was no edge to drop off of or a wall to prohibit a limb's perspective. Myriad positions flew through Emma's mind; images of angled hips, spread legs, arms outstretched… all the things she dreamed of doing with Regina ever since – well, ever since she could remember. In fact, she recalled seeing the brunette in a few interesting positions during that yoga session…
"I could fuck you ten different ways right here right now."
Regina shivered under the frenzied lips that hinted things she had wanted to do with Emma for… well, for as long as she could remember. She pushed Emma back with a hand. A brow rose. "Ten?"
"Too much?"
"Not enough."
Emma squinted into the blazing light. One hand shielding the sun and the other gripping her walking stick, she powered her way up the gravel hill, huffing and puffing as she went.
"This… is not… what I had in mind… when you wanted to get a work out."
"You are a healthy, adult going-on-30 more than capable of walking this trail."
"And you're what," Emma mumbled, "60? What the –"
"Watch your step, Princess. This island holds many dark and dangerous pitfalls."
"Yeah, and sadistic, tricksters, too. Whoa! Fu – "
Emma took another spill into the knoll, sharp pebbles biting into her knees. "I swear, if you had something to do with this…"
"You will what?" Regina turned, rather light on her feet. She was breathing easily and hardly had use for the tall stick in her grip. "Punish me? I thought we did that earlier." With a simple shrug she turned back to the trail and strolled up the hill. Strolled, like it was some elevator at a shopping mall.
"Sadistic," Emma muttered. She strained to gain another few feet before another breather was in order. "Yeees, very sadistic."
To be fair, the trail was not entirely challenging. Athletic and limber, Emma could handle a little jaunt through the woods, but after several rounds of raucous, uninhibited sex it was asking a lot of her screaming thighs.
The sights definitely made up for the trek. The higher they climbed the more landscape that came into view. The trail boasted of a beautiful panoramic view of the ocean and sandy, white beaches which could be enjoyed at the top of the 'mountain.' The moment they reached the top Emma quit complaining. It was indeed all it was cracked up to be and was made more beautiful with Regina in the foreground.
The solitude from up high reminded Regina of Firefly Hill, a magical place Daniel had taken her to after they had met. The view of the village was exhilarating. Daniel was enchanting. The kiss was unlike anything. Years later Regina was standing on a different hill, with a view just as breathtaking, and standing beside someone she actually might have a future with.
Before descending they marked the special moment with an embrace and slow, indulgent kisses. It was just as magical (if not more so) than the kiss with Daniel, if Regina was thinking about it. But she wasn't. It was romantic, if that was what they were into. It was, but they weren't telling.
Emma would soon regret the mall reference because the very same was found at the end of their journey. Who the hell builds a shopping mall at the end of a grueling three mile trail through forest, gravel, and mountains? Someone who required Dr. Hopper's services, that's who.
One hour and 13 minutes later (Emma clocked her watch by it) and she was leaning on the clothing rack with the other arm stuffed into the pocket of her recently attained red leather jacket. She scratched her brow in reticence, trying to block out the horrible elevator music bouncing off the walls. Throughout this hour and now 15 minutes Emma watched Regina pick up an outfit, scrutinize it back and front, finger the edges, inspect for loose stitches, and put it back with a dissatisfied arch of her brow. This process was repeated 23 times (Emma kept count). She rolled her eyes every time, but shut her mouth. It's what was expected of her.
If Emma didn't know any better she was waiting like a good little wife so her partner could go about her excruciating process of elimination. "It will only take 15 minutes," she said. "I just need a skirt to match my blouse at home," she said. Emma scoffed and muttered under breath, "You mean a skirt to match the four million other blouses at home?"
To ease the boredom she'd carry on a one-sided conversation with the mannequins. After a curious poking to judge if it was indeed a non-magical entity, one wobbled precariously on the dais. Emma went about righting it in a flustered state of embarrassment, smiling at passersby.
She nodded if Regina wanted her opinion, saying, "No, sweetheart, that dress does not make you look fat," or "That's an amazing color on you," when it really wasn't. At one point a saleswoman approached Emma at her most jaded, asking if she needed assistance.
"Oh, no I'm just waiting for my…"
Regina paused in her scrutiny of skirt number 30 and turned an ear.
"Uh… I'm just waiting. I'm fine, thanks."
Anyway, Emma was waiting on Regina like a good wife should, offering comments when comments were needed, and shutting the hell up when they weren't. It reeked of domesticity and Emma thought it absurd that the notion of marriage sprung to mind, considering their relationship (or whatever it was called).
"It wouldn't hurt to smile."
"Yeah, but then someone would think I'm enjoying this."
Regina shot her a critical look.
"Which I am," Emma put on a 20 watt smile, picking up a hanger for show, "enjoying this, that is."
"Indeed. I didn't know you were pregnant."
"What?!"
Regina simply pointed to the selection in Emma's grip, a black, billowing dress that any fool with eyes could tell was maternity clothing.
The hanger was flung back onto the rack like it was diseased.
"Why don't you like shopping?" Regina asked, with genuine curiosity. Her grin only widened at the likely reply.
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I do all girl things," Emma shot back with annoyance.
"Woman."
"Excuse me?"
"You are a woman," Regina put back a tight, satin skirt with a cringe, like the entire department store was beneath her, "not a girl."
"Yeah, well this woman doesn't like shopping. Not unless it's strictly for her."
"Well, I'm sure there is a pleather outlet around here somewhere. Or a Vagrant Outfitters For Daughters of Frumpy Crocheters."
"You're hilarious."
"I thought it was funny."
At the checkout, prize winning skirt number 45 was rung up. Emma brow went up when Regina handed over a credit card to the saleswoman. The card gave off an odd, magical glow.
Regina defended, "It's just a little something I keep with me."
"Uh-huh," Emma grunted, folding her arms. "I could arrest you for fraud, you know."
"Don't be silly. A sheriff of an inconspicuous town in Maine has no jurisdiction here." After accepting her receipt and purchase she patted Emma's cheek lovingly. "Save the handcuffs for later."
"Aw, yeaaaaah!" Hook hooted. "This is what I'm talking about!"
Gold and Hook followed a trail from the resort out a few miles. That trail led them to a line of bushes. Beyond those bushes was a beach. At that beach was something very out of your ordinary run of the mill beaches.
Gold's eyes went insane as the pirate started stripping right in front of him. "What on earth are you doing?!"
"It's a nude beach! Come on, strip off those skivvies and show' em what you got you old crocodile."
It was in fact a nude beach. No shirt, no shoes, no exceptions. All along the water were bare assed men and women, some sunbathing, others playing a game of volleyball, many swimming and splashing and luxuriating in all their naked glory. It was unnerving to watch, though the more Gold did he started to pick up a sense of freedom. It wasn't like the liberty one gained when letting your junk hang all out in the privacy of one's home; it was the fact that no one there seemed to care. There weren't disgusting orgies like one would suppose at a nude beach. Everyone there was acting like they would if it were a normal, clothes required beach.
"I will do no such thing," Gold affirmed with a lingering, and most fascinating stare of the nudists. "What would Belle think?"
She wouldn't have to know, of course. Twenty-four hours after her appearance she disappeared with just as much mystery. Still, no one knew the how or why of the happenstance (and Regina was stoically not telling). Short as their time had been, Gold felt rejuvenated by Belle's visit. His spirits were high and he seemed just as motivated as the others to arrive in Neverland, save Henry, and return home.
"Well, I have no idea," Hook replied, shrugging is bare shoulders. "But that lass right over there? She'd think up some interesting thinky thoughts, I'm sure."
Gold knew he would regret it. But this was his vacation. For the past three hours Hook had gripped to him about how he had to loosen up and strike a few 'promiscuous' deals every once and a while ('preferably with the natives' Hook added with a wink and a nudge).
Gold sighed and started stripping. Blushing to the tips of his ears, his eyes shifted nervously over the beach goers. "I hope I don't know anyone here."
Giddy as a school boy, Hook leaped over bushes and started streaking down the beach. "I love this island!" he screamed.
Though their resort package included a free massage session, Regina bypassed the hands of a stranger for those of her lover. Every knot and kink tormenting her back was worked out with the simple oils provided by their suite bathroom. Returning the kindness, Regina helped release some tension in her massage partner, kneading at her overstrained thighs. An occasional giggle of riotous proportions rang out when fingers encroached on sensitive territory. Exhalations of relief echoed off the vaulted ceilings as the queen-sized bed creaked to the languid pressure. It really was the epitome of massage therapy and about as innocent as the pope lurking in a strip club.
Courtesy of the resort, they enjoyed a candlelit dinner with a window view of the beach. Emma sat, munching on a breadstick and perfectly satisfied with the view across from her. She had to remember to breathe once and a while because Regina was a vision and if she didn't start breathing soon she couldn't enjoy divesting that vision of clothing later on. The dress was sure to have broken a law in some uptight town or another, for it lent easy access to heavenly cleavage. Her hair had grown over their journey and was gathered in a French twist, giving a full picture of a neck and shoulders. The getup made a certain statement: I mean business, but not at the expense of femininity. It was one of those tuxedo dresses, white and strapless with dark buttons and black from waist to kissable knees. All it need for a finish was some sparkling jewelry – something Emma Swan could never afford.
It looked stunning, and Regina felt more so with those eyes on her. For Emma's part she donned a similar strapless dress, emerald and adequately clinging for maximum exposure. Emma felt constricted, uncomfortable, and extremely vulnerable under hungry eyes. Regina simply enjoyed the view, smiling balefully to the fantasy of emerald and milky pale skin clouding her mind.
Regina's temperament soon disintegrated after the placement of drink orders. Emma noticed the change from trancelike rapture to quiet melancholy. A sudden anxiety butterflied its way through her stomach as a result. Placing the half-eaten breadstick down, she dived into what would most likely turn into a vat of acidic backlash.
"Look, I know this isn't us. The candlelight, the violins…" her eyes bug out when they fell on the menu, "… the over-priced appetizers… I never actually took anyone out on a date before. I've never even been asked to a place like this. I could never afford 20 dollar bruschetta…." Her voice dropped off at her dinner partner's face. "Oh, shit. I said 'date.' I wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Crap, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put a label to this –"
"Emma," Regina grabbed the hand floundering in midair and placed it on the table between them, "it's alright. This is nice. I want this."
"Then how come you look like don't want this?"
"I… I feel bad. We should feel bad that – "
"That we're together like this?"
"No, Emma, will you let me finish? I have greatly enjoyed our time together here. I'm overwhelmed by how easy this is, just you and I. We're not on the ship anymore. We've been dropped in this entirely new environment with nothing to remind us of Storybrooke or the people there. It was unexpected. I thought it would be different."
Emma leaned forward on her elbows. "Different how?"
"Well, I can't speak for you, but I thought we would be fighting half the time."
"We still kind of do, Regina."
"Friendly banter is what I would call it." She shook her head, motioning with her hand. "What I'm trying to say is… we're good here. I wouldn't go as far as saying we're thriving, but it seems like that's where we're headed. But if feels wrong, doesn't it? It feels so wrong."
"You're talking about just the two of us," Emma stated, the realization dawning on her. "No little third party begging for ice cream as a first course."
Regina nodded morosely. "It's not right that we're seeing the sights and shopping and eating all these free meals…"
"I doubt Henry will feel neglected for missing the shopping part."
"…and Henry is probably tied up somewhere, hungry, and without a night light. He hasn't even brushed his teeth in weeks – he still needs me to remind him. We should not have taken this excursion," Regina declared. Her back straightened. She wiped down the creases in the tablecloth to distract her from the pain of a breaking heart. "This is wasted time that should be spent reaching Neverland. We have to go."
Regina never made a move, though. The defensive mechanisms were a no-go as the first round of tears fell.
"Hey, hey," Emma soothed with a soft, silky voice reserved for the two most important people in her life. Her thumb stopped the tear and ran up its trail. After swiping the watery mascara from under an eye she stroked the cheek with reverence.
"We need to stay – just for the night. We're on the last leg of this journey, Regina, and Hook's worked us to the bones. For weeks we've been cold, wet, bored to the point where I could use my mom's sweaters for target practice…"
Regina bit down on a chuckle. The small smirk failed to reach her eyes, though.
Squeezing the hand in hers, Emma continued. "We're tired, Regina. Don't tell me you're not because I know you and I sleep next to you. I know you're awake three hours before sunrise. I know those nightmares that keep you from a good night's rest. I want to get Henry back just as much as you do. We need this," Emma said, indicating their surroundings; the candlelight, the expensive wine and posh décor, their clasped hands. "We are no good to our son sleepless, scared, and wound up like a yo-yo."
"I am not tightly wound."
The blonde head angled to the side. "You could have fooled me."
The cockeyed smirk, true emerald eyes that matched a stunning dress, and a lame joke were all it took to mend the broken pieces. The pressure left her chest and Regina found it easier to breathe. The silverware held a brighter shine, the candles provided a deeper heat, the smells wafting from the kitchen made her taste buds tingle, and the woman grinning across the table managed to turn her frown upside down.
Emma Swan just made everything better.
The first course (tuna tartar with avocado mousse that rivaled that of the Jolly Roger sous chef) made way for relaxed conversation. Fine wine turned cheeks rosy, bacon wrapped quail elicited the most indulgent of moans, and the waiter's recommendation of grilled octopus provoked a severe, "Fuck no" from the blonde. They ate, and they talked. Hands remained close, fingers playing against one another in an affectionate game only they knew. Until the inevitable.
"Emma Swan!"
The tone. It was the tone that frightened Emma the most. Normally, she wouldn't allow herself to back down from a mother she'd only known for two years (one if you're counting on mutual understanding of one's true identity). But that tone. Fuck.
The lovers' hands disengaged like they'd been burned, but not soon enough.
"Why her?"
Emma drew back at Mary Margaret's bluntness and flagrant disregard for "her's" presence.
"Wait, no. I'm asking the wrong person." Mary Margaret's finger switched from Regina to Emma. She directed the question to the stock still brunette. "Why her?"
"'Why her' what?" Regina shot back. She was so still she could have been mistaken for one of the mannequin's Emma chatted with earlier.
"Why my daughter? Why this restaurant? And above all, why now?"
"I'm sorry, I don't pencil in my lovers for dinner months in advance."
Well that was a bold move, Emma thought. She gazed on her lover with something akin to pride.
Mary Margaret gasped. "Don't you call her that."
"Then what shall I call her? Have any ideas, Charming?" Regina turned to David who peeked from behind his wife. "What was the title you referred to before? Oh yes, my future wedded wife."
Mary Margaret was close to choking. "David?"
"Dad!"
"Charming!"
The man leapt back, hands out in surrender. "Whoa now! Leave me out of this."
"Leave you out of this?" Hands gripping her hips, the petite brunette's rage grew with every syllable. "Apparently you are already in it! She's our daughter! And she's dating... her! And you didn't think to tell me? Your wife?!"
"Madame," the mustached maître d' cut in, "if you would be so kind to allow me to seat you and your husband to your table. You are disturbing the other guests," he whispered lowly.
"It's no problem." She waved her hand to the tuxedo and plopped herself down at the table next to Emma and Regina. Against his will, David was dragged down to a chair. "This is an intervention," she stated, as if it was the solution to global warming itself.
With a wary nod the maître d' left them to their conference.
In the seat closest to Emma, Mary Margaret glared through the candlelight at her nemesis. "How dare you take my daughter like she's another one of your possessions. You should be ashamed of yourself. Henry prattled on about how hard you've tried and yet all you've managed to do is fall into the same old line."
"Don't speak to her like that! You may be my mother, but I'm warning you, Mary Margaret, who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business. So can the maternal commentary."
"I am not just speaking as your mother. In case you've forgotten I was raised by this woman. I've seen the kind of queen she turned into. I've witnessed the kind of evil she inspires. I'm speaking as one who knows Regina, one who's known her for years."
"With all due respect, you don't know Regina."
"Do I get a say in this?"
Mother and daughter shot identical glares at Regina and answered with a resounding, "No!"
Regina fell back into her chair with a roll of her eyes. David gave a sympathetic pat on her shoulder.
"So…" David started while the other two went about bickering, "what resort package did you and Emma get?"
Regina raised a brow to the light conversation, but complied with a wave of her hand. "The ah… you know…"
"The True Love Package?"
Regina grunted an affirmative.
"Does she know?"
"No, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way."
For fear of getting cursed, David hid the smile. "Yeah, they offered a great rate. Mary Margaret went nuts over the shopping coupons. Me not so much."
"You would have a great deal to talk about with your daughter, what with all the adventures of raiding the mint patty machines, and striking conversation with inanimate objects."
"The mannequins? See, I knew I wasn't the only one who thought they were real! They're so lifelike!"
"Now I really see where Emma gets her clever wit from."
"Huh?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Hey," he whispered, leaning in, elbow settled on his knee, "did you check out the resort spa? I didn't realize deep tissue massage was a thing in this world. Why didn't they have masseuses in the Enchanted Forest, I wonder?"
"Because they'd all be decapitated for their lascivious craft." When David failed to understand she leaned in with a smirk. "You forget how subdued the principles in our land were. And enforced, if I might add."
"Huh," he rubbed his chin, cocking his head to the possibility. "It's a shame really. Those masseuses can certainly work some magic. I could have used that kind of stress relief back when you were trying to kill us. But anyway… my masseuse was great. What about yours?"
"Mm," Regina swirled the burgundy liquid in her glass before taking a sip. Licking her lips she stared at the woman, her blonde hair askew from an expressive defense of her queen, eyes ablaze, and cheeks a nice glowing red. "Emma wasn't so bad herself. I can now say with absolute certainty that her hands indeed work magic." Finishing the confession off with a lazy smirk, she continued to make eyes at the blonde.
That caused David to shut up and return back into an upright position. Scratching the back of his neck, he allowed his wife and daughter's bickering to permeate the air, all notions at striking up conversation with his daughter's 'choice' dashed.
Regina felt a stab of guilt. It was a bit harsh. While she wouldn't consider David a friend, they were friendly. And he had given her and Emma a sort of semi-blessing. His acceptance wasn't set in stone, of course, but it was as close to acceptance as they were going to get. For now.
With a tortured sigh she handed over her glass of red wine. An admission of guilt and an olive branch that seemed apropos coming from the former Evil Queen.
David murmured his thanks and knocked it back in one big gulp.
"I don't understand how you can sit there and actually admit to possessing feelings of... of... of warmth for her!"
"She's Henry's mother. Of course I have feelings for her!"
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Tell me what this is. Make me understand, Emma."
"Why? So you can overreact and take away my right to make my own decisions? Trample over the people I care about? Well you can't! I don't own you an explanation. I won't!"
Once he spied the developing tears all he wanted to do in that moment was gather his daughter into his arms and rock her soothingly. It wasn't his job to coddle anymore and it wasn't Mary Margaret's prerogative to steer them onto the proper path. Emma was making that very clear. So although she stamped her foot petulantly, shouting "I won't" or "You can't make me" there was something very adult-like in the way she argued. Emma stood up for what she believed in. She defended the person she trusted.
"Mary Margaret, it's late. Maybe we should call it a night. I'll order room service."
"Do not think you can soften me up with room service, Charming. Emma may have her reasons, but I would never have expected you to purposely keep me out of the loop." With one last cold hard glare she said the words, "We will discuss that later."
"Don't blame him," Emma mediated. "I asked David not to tell you. Be angry with me not him."
"I'm not angry with you. I'm disappointed."
It was becoming a chore to sit quietly, which explained Regina's fidgeting. There was strength behind Emma's words that had no intention of waning. The more Emma defended their affair the less optimistic Regina was. She was not as strong willed as Emma and she wouldn't damn her to a lifetime of familial arguments or, if it came to it, estrangement from the parents she's only just found. Emma was being so beautiful and so strong. Mary Margaret was being her stubborn, unbalanced self. Regina couldn't take one more second of it.
She rose suddenly from her chair, threw down her napkin, and gathered any remaining fortitude available for what she was about to do.
"You've won, Snow dear. I've been convinced enough from this little intervention that my presence is no longer needed in the Charming family. Not anymore." From the corner of her eye, Regina could she see the disapproval in her lover's gait. She could almost feel the 'no fucking way' building in her throat. Every part of her wanted to fall into those green eyes and say over and over again how sorry she was. But she held onto the hazel eyes of the girl – the woman – whose betrayal nearly killed her, and finished what she started.
"You have nothing to worry about," Regina announced to Mary Margaret. Swallowing over some persistent feeling, her words were disturbingly steady (or so she thought). "I'm leaving in the morning. Alone. No harm will come to your… princess."
Emma looked up, startled by the familiar tone of affection that the name carried. Despite Regina's vulnerability and her icy determination in covering it up (and failing utterly), she was still just as gentle as a kitten. All the times and places the name had fallen from red lips… their cabin, their weekend swims in the ocean, before their morning coffee, in bed when they made love and again after Emma fake fell asleep. It sounded so innocent coming from a former evil queen. It tasted just as sweet from those lips.
Emma was blindsided, her jaw hanging open almost comically. So shocked by the dismissal of their affair, she completely missed the brunette's hasty exit. She shot an unforgiving look at her equally jolted parents and raced after Regina.
Global warming, it seemed, would not be remedied by intervention.
"You do realize I have a key to this room?" Emma pressed her forehead to the door. Eyes slipped shut and she challenged softly, "Regina, you can't keep me out forever."
A moment of silence later the lock clicked. Emma stepped in to find Regina sitting on the bed and hugging knees to her chest. She looks so sad, Emma thought. She needed a hug or words of encouragement, something. Someone needed to coax this woman from the edge (literally the edge of the bed because it looked like she would fall off). Someone had to lift up that trembling chin, look deep into her brown eyes and tell her she's the most beautiful woman in all the realms. Someone had to step up and give this woman a reason to keep fighting, to tell her that the journey was stormy but at its end was smooth sailing (no pun intended). Emma looked around and was struck by the realization that this 'someone' was her. Suddenly, the blonde had the strong urge to cut and run.
"The maître d' wouldn't let me bolt without a slice of their tiramisu." Emma lifted up the white to-go box which was worn on the corners and slightly opened at one end. "I got a little hungry on the elevator ride. Sorry," she confessed with a shrug and a bashful smile.
Way to cheer up your girlfriend, Swan, Emma cursed herself. Allow your parents to run her out of your life and meet her halfway with a measly morsel of tiramisu. That's love.
"Please don't take anything that she had to say seriously. It's the shock that was talking tonight. I think you can relate?" Emma submitted hopefully. Ever since Regina called a verbal quits on their relationship Emma had been praying to every mythical god she could name from the high school classes she didn't skip out on. She prayed that Regina didn't mean it.
Scowling at the arm curling round her waist, Regina stalked to the dresser. She rummaged through the drawers, handfuls of clothes coming out, a silk blue blouse purposely abandoned to the bottom drawer. Barely concealed sniffles couldn't stop her from liberating the essentials.
Emma realized what was happening and stood up immediately to thwart the attempt.
"Mary Margaret may not have been serious but I was. I meant it, Emma."
"Please."
"No." Regina shoved the clothes further into her suitcase despite the opposing hands.
"Why do you care so much about what she thinks?" Emma snapped, her anger getting the best of her. "You never gave two fucks about her before. Why now? Why give up so easily? Her argument was bogus, anyway. Couldn't you see it?"
Her wrists were being pressed together by Emma, much like they would by the sheriff's handcuffs. How appropriate, Regina thought sullenly.
"What are you going to do? Keep me here until I care what that holier-than-thou Snow White has to say?!"
Clearly, the woman had her head so far up her ass she couldn't distinguish Emma's argument from her own. She couldn't see how mismatched her feelings were to the words coming out of her mouth.
"No!" Emma's grip tugged the suitcase away while Regina tugged back with equal force. "I don't want you to care because that's not the real you. It's why I like you so damn much!"
The zipper ripped its way along the suitcases edges, sealing closed with the aid of trembling fingers. On its journey around a corner it became gridlocked with a finger.
"Shit!" Emma yelped, retrieving her hand. She immediately stuck the digit between her lips, attempting to sooth the throbbing.
Dropping it like it was hot, Regina's anger made way for all consuming concern. Her eyes locked onto the suckled finger, all but ignoring the twinge of desire running through her. The fuck were they arguing about anyway? She couldn't remember.
"Is it…" Regina's hand went out and hesitated, "… is it bad?"
"Oh, now you care?"
"Why can't we just –"
"Talk? Love to, but we have this habit of beating each other up…"
"Emma, I didn't mean to."
"Like you didn't mean to leave me by the wayside earlier? Do you even know how hard that was for me, sticking up for you in front of my parents? I know Mary Margaret was talking bullshit, but she's my mother and… and I love her. She just wants to protect her kid. Kind of like how I was protecting you. She has no right to judge you, Regina. I love my parents, but their opinion is nothing to me if it means losing you. We don't need their blessing."
Regina shook her head. "This is too much. My only objective now is saving my son. And I will do so without the assistance of that motley crew of heroes. It's better this way," she muttered down to the suitcase, her hands staying from the handle. Not yet. She wasn't ready just yet. "I will find my own way. I am the Evil Queen, as so many describe me."
"That's not true. You may not love our fellow crewmembers but I've seen you grown to like and trust them. Hook, he has no connection to Henry and yet where is he? Steering a ship on its way to the kid. Gold, the guy wasn't exactly jumping for joy at his new status as grandfather but he's lending a hand, isn't he? That's one more magic user on our side. And I know my parents aren't on your 'to hug' list, but you can't deny they would risk their necks for their grandson. I… I've only known Henry for a year or so, but he feels like another limb, one I have to get back otherwise I might not survive." The heel of her hand ground itself into the dampness of her eye. She trembled amid the overwhelming feeling of dread burning a hole in her chest. "You're his mother, Regina, and you belong with him. I want it so badly no matter how many times you think I have this agenda to take him away from you. We've all set out on this trip because we share one thing in common: we want to find Henry." She made a grab for the pair of hands, unsteady as her own. Emma achieved the impossible feat of drawing the woman to sit beside her. Regina was so compliant it was as though she wanted to be talked down from the very beginning. "Please. Don't leave. I don't want you to. Besides, we haven't finished magic lessons. I'm… well, I'm scared of using my powers without my teacher beside me."
The brunette head tipped in admission. "You are ready."
Emma pouted, refusing to take no for an answer. "I want you to see for yourself how badass I am. I need you there to make insensitive jokes about how I know nothing, how I need work on my aim and flourish. I need you, Regina. I can't do this without you. I won't."
"What you need, Princess, is a new catch phrase. 'I won't' will not get you everything, no matter how endearing a pout."
"Well… you're vocabulary is pretty extensive. How about you stay and help me choose a new one?"
The choked sob could have passed for a chuckle. "I hate you."
"Pretty sure that's old news," Emma scoffed lightly, scratching her head.
"I love you."
Emma stopped because she was sure she didn't hear that. The last person she professed her love to died just seconds after it had been uttered. But this was a safe place, wasn't it? No one would get hurt after the fact, surely. If she admitted to the sentiment, she wanted the words to carry a greater weight. She wanted them to hold every ounce of truth, every molecule of her existence. It was close to unbelievable how this woman admitted the love in her heart. Regina spoke with truth, with weight, with her entire being. Instead of copping to the same, all that ran through Emma was shock and awe. Also, the words 'come again?'
"Emma Swan, if you don't say something I will walk out that door right now."
"Can we stop talking?" Emma rushed out, her hands latching anxiously around a waist. She couldn't take her eyes of those lips, wanting to taste 'Princess' off of them till the end of her days. Because there was only one way she knew how to deliver her message. With truth, with weight, with her every molecule.
"Is… is there any tiramisu left?" Regina ventured weakly. She wiped at her eyes, sniffling.
Incoherent mumbles of doubt tumbled out. "Ehrm… there might be a corner left? You wanna finish the rest?"
Emma made to get the take out box but was stopped by a tug on her arm.
Regina's insistence of "later" was barely voiced before her mouth lay on Emma's. Doubt leaving her like the dipping sunset, Emma flattened herself onto the woman, pinning her to their queen-sized bed and causing Regina to let out a squeak of surprise. They actively sought out bare skin, not a care in the world for busted zippers or disapproving mothers. Devoid of dress and thoroughly kissed, their progression changed.
This time it was slow and patient. It emphasized a deeper longing, a stronger bond. Every touch, every word of direction and sigh of acknowledgment meant something new. Breaths mingled as bodies intertwined. The idea of 'becoming one' during the act of sex always made Emma laugh. Silly rabbit, those tricks were for fools.
Emma wasn't laughing then. Emma may have been a fool, but she was a fool in love.
When they made love she returned the sentiment, several times, very loudly.
The mother was always last to know.
That was the single train of thought Mary Margaret puzzled over as they all gathered on the main bridge. Since returning from shore leave it was revealed in subtle glances, smirks, and raunchy pirate jokes that everyone knew of Emma and Regina's more than friendly relationship. Everyone but the mother.
It was impossible, that was what it was. No possible reasoning could be given to explain why her daughter and her ex-stepmother turned villain turned mayor turned reluctant relative yet again were together and… in love? It sure looked that way from the many stares Mary Margaret now opened her attention to, the adoration in those eyes and the persistence in Emma's body that just couldn't be more than an arm length's away from Regina. It hadn't been there before, surely. Not for the weeks spent on the ship and definitely not before in Storybrooke.
Regina cherished Emma. It could be believed because Mary Margaret cherished David. She understood what it looked and felt like. She shared that same wily smile, that sparkle in brown eyes, the shift in breathing when her other half was near. If seeing was believing, than Mary Margaret believed Regina did in fact love her daughter.
But she didn't have to like it.
It was midday, after their chores. Hook had them lined up on the deck and acting quite suspicious as to why their captain was wearing away at the planks.
David reined his wife in with a tight arm around her shoulder. Mary Margaret could only clench her jaw in the presence of Regina who still vehemently opposed her earlier promise to depart alone.
But she was very much not alone. Regina made a point of keeping the display of her hand steadfast in Emma's in full view. She wouldn't allow Snow to make her feel sorry for it. Not a bone in her body tolerated apology.
"All right, crew," Hook declared, halting his pacing. "I have an announcement to make."
"Does it by any chance not have to do with the rum being gone?" Emma folded her arms condescendingly. "I told you before, Hook, I'm done magicking the stuff for you. You almost ran us aground trying to get to that island. Drunk while driving doesn't begin to explain how – "
"It's not about the bloody rum!" Hook snapped. The crew jumped at the unexpected display of authority and the slander to his prized drink. "It's regarding Neverland."
"Never-Gonna-Get-There-Land?" Emma asked seriously. Two weeks into their journey (so long and unpredictably arduous) she had since dubbed their destination a more appropriate name. One that emphasized her frustration.
"Then we're nearly there," Regina gasped. Her hand absently sought out Emma's. "We're going to get Henry back."
The pirate nodded. "Neverland is just a day away. But we must be on our toes. The last leg of the journey is always the most taxing, the most dangerous. I don't know what we'll find when we get to shore, or who will be waiting for us." Hook looked to each and every one of his crew members whose chins were high and ears open to orders. He had taught them well. "So sharpen your swords, string those bows, and stretch your magic fingers… or whatever it is you do…. because Neverland awaits!"
