A/N - A bit of a disclaimer, I suppose. While I totally understand the purpose of structuring a story, I also want these lives to seem as realistic as I can make them. While "good" stories have linear storylines, the Emma and Regina that we have come to know on the show and in this story in particular are not always as linear. Humans are messy. We take one step forward and three steps back, or three steps forward and one step back. Hopefully this reflect that. Enjoy! (I take full responsibility for any typos. I got really excited about this chapter :))
Before any of them knew it, they were halfway through August. The tail-end of summer clung to the city for as long as it could and stubbornly fought the turn of autumn. Windy days grew more frequent, temperatures fluctuated, and the New York heat wavered. Time was passing faster than they were prepared for, though some days, slower than they would like.
After several weeks of steady progress, Henry was granted another temporary release from Dr. Whale. His white-blood cell count had stayed below the danger zone, and though it was a small victory, it was a victory nonetheless. And so, as a peace-offering, Dr. Whale decided that Henry could spend the weekend at home, in the comfort of his own bed, under the care of his mothers.
That Saturday evening, they celebrated Henry's return with a meal prepared by Regina herself. Her home-cooked lasagna and apple cider made for the perfect homecoming. Henry even helped himself to a third serving. He'd steadily regained some of the weight he'd lost during his coma, his cheeks no longer sunken in and his arms and legs no longer frail attachments.
After dinner, Henry and Emma cleared the table while Regina took a shower. She'd been complaining about the stench of hospital all day, and though she offered to clean up, Emma knew the woman wouldn't be satisfied until she herself was clean. Together, Emma and Henry worked like a well-oiled machine. She washed and he dried. Their small array of plates slowly filled the cupboards once again, and the silverware soon returned to their rightful drawers. It wasn't until Emma started to pack away leftovers that Henry caught her off-guard.
"What was the foster system like?" the boy asked suddenly. He had quickly grown accustomed to the idea of Emma being his mother, and not just because he'd known since March. Now that he could actually talk about it, it felt real. His relationship with Emma hadn't changed very much, except he found himself wanting to know more about her.
Her back turned towards Henry, Emma was just pressing saran wrap over the salad bowl when she cringed unintentionally. It was as if someone had pinched the most sensitive part of her arm. "Um," she stammered briefly, "it was… hard."
"You and Mom were in it together, right?"
Nodding to herself, Emma replied, "Yeah, we got placed together a few times."
"Grandma said Mom was a kid when she got her. But, Mom doesn't really talk about it a lot," said Henry.
After stuffing the containers in the refrigerator, Emma spun around slowly and wiped her hands on her pants. "I remember when she came to get Regina. That was a rough day for both of us."
"How old were you when Mr. and Mrs. Nolan— I mean, when Grandma and Grandpa got you?"
Emma let out long exhale as she thought back to the day she met her parents. "I was a teenager, just a couple years older than you are."
Leaning against the counter, Henry blinked through his growing bangs. "Can I meet them? I mean, can I see them again?"
"My parents?" Emma clarified. Henry nodded shyly. "Yeah, of course. Totally. I think they'd love that."
After a few moments of silence, Regina broke away from where she'd been eavesdropping in the hall and walked into the kitchen. Her hair still somewhat damp, she stood in her purple pajamas and matching robe. "Well, you two clearly have been holding out on me," she teased as she gestured to the dining area. "It's practically spotless."
"Can I go play video games in my room?" Henry asked politely.
It didn't take very much begging before Regina relented. "30 minutes," she said. Henry nodded with military precision before rushing off to his room, leaving Regina and Emma alone for the first time in weeks. Gesturing towards the small wine rack on the counter, Regina said, "Care for a drink?"
"You read my mind," the blonde chuckled. Sitting opposite one another, the women quietly sipped from their glasses. Uncomfortable with the silence, Emma said, "I'd say the kid's back to his usual self, wouldn't you?"
"Hmhm," Regina agreed. "He's certainly made quite the recovery." Leaning against the back of her chair, she crossed one leg over the other under the table and took another swig of merlot.
Emma lifted her drink as if she were about to give a toast. "I gotta say, I knew Henry was a great kid, but I had no idea he'd be this cool about all of this. I mean, he's seems completely fine with everything. Just kinda makes you think, yanno?" Nodding slowly, Regina could feel her heart pounding. "Regina—"
"Emma, I'm—" Both women blushed and looked away, embarrassed at their own foolishness.
"You first," Emma offered.
Looking down at the last bit of the wine in her glass, Regina inhaled slowly. "I have actually been thinking a lot lately, about… everything."
Emma searched Regina's pinched expression. She noted the crease in Regina's forehead, the slight quint of Regina's eyes. "Yeah?" she asked innocently.
Regina nodded. "The last few weeks have been great. Henry's so happy and I'm… I'm happy that he's happy." One finger dancing around the delicate rim, she said, "The other day, when you went to pick up breakfast, Henry asked when you were going to move in with us."
"Oh." Emma was mindful to keep an even tone, quietly wishing she had something stronger to drink. "What did you say?"
"The same thing as before: that you and I would need to discuss it."
"So then, is this us 'discussing it?'"
"No," Regina said quickly, much faster than she'd meant to. Although she didn't see the flicker of hurt in Emma's eyes, she felt the blonde's slight shift. "I mean, not really. I- I don't know." Shifting in her seat, she looked away from Emma and found herself floundering. "Life's just been so complicated. The past few months have alone— I don't even know how to begin to describe it all. And now…"
"Now what?" Without realizing it, Emma had leaned in closer towards Regina, her elbows rested on the table.
Regina closed her eyes and shut them tight. Even then, though, all she could see was Emma. Golden curls and a dimple-chin. Chiseled arms and soft hands. When she opened her eyes, Emma was still there. Regina looked down at her glass suddenly and a loose strand of hair fell over her face. "Do you remember that night you came by to see Henry, but he was already asleep? You were wearing that green dress and you had your hair down." A slight smirk spread across her face as she recalled the details of that evening. "You told me about how you chased some man through Times Square." Regina's half-smile faded, though, as she peered over at Emma. "Why not then? Why wait until… until all of this?"
Emma understand exactly what Regina was referring to. She'd been dreading this conversation for weeks, and now that it finally came up, she wasn't so sure she was ready. "I don't know," Emma said honestly. "Look, you're my best friend. Always have been. The last thing I wanna do is mess that up, especially now." When Regina tilted her head to the side and narrowed her gaze at Emma, as if she were examining her. "What?"
"Nothing," Regina said dismissively.
"Seemed like something," Emma countered. "What is it?"
"It's just— doesn't it all feel sudden to you? I mean we've known each other more than 20 years, Emma."
"So?"
"So, it's a matter of timing. Henry's just started to get better and you and I—"
"I get it," Emma said swiftly. "You're right. This- this isn't the time. I- I should go."
"You don't have to—"
Rising to her feet, Emma jammed her hands into her pockets in search of her keys and gestured to the hall with her elbow. "I'm gonna say 'night' to Henry and then take off."
The sting of alcohol still burning her throat, Regina pushed out of her chair and ignored the sudden dizzy spell. "Emma, wait," she urged. Emma was too embarrassed to look at Regina. She couldn't bring herself to face the rejection she'd been anticipating. She knew Regina was right: this was the worst possible time to even consider there being anything more. As Emma continued to berate herself, she heard the shuffle of footsteps as Regina walked up to her. "Stay," she heard Regina whisper, her body close enough to feel her warmth. "Please?"
The next morning, when Emma woke up beside Regina, she found herself noticing things she'd missed before: the plush, feather-filled comforter that lay over their curled forms. The cotton sheets that hugged their bodies. The fluffy pillow that supported her head. If hadn't known any better, Emma would have guessed she'd stayed the night in a rather fancy hotel.
This time, when she opened her eyes and saw Regina asleep next to her, Emma felt the corners of her mouth slow spread from ear to ear. She held Regina close— so close that she could feel the other woman's heart beating. She listened to the brunette's even breathing and could have sworn it was the most beautiful music she'd ever heard, even when Regina let out a gentle snore.
For several minutes, Emma simply watched as Regina slept soundly. She followed the woman's silhouette with her eyes, relished in the sheen of Regina's hair. Emma felt as though she were noticing Regina's smooth skin and prominent cheek bones for the first time.
Eventually, Regina stirred under the covers and Emma made room for her to roll onto her side. Slowly, her eyes opened and Emma's blurry form crystalized.
"Hey," Emma whispered.
Blinking away the exhaustion, Regina yawned before saying, "Hi."
"How'd you sleep?"
"Perfect," Regina said. "You?"
"Better than I have in months." Shimmying down the mattress, her head propped on her hand, Emma looked at Regina and asked, "Does this… feel weird to you?"
Brushing scraggly strands of hair out of her face, Regina buried a hand beneath her pillow. "A little," she confessed.
"Me too," said Emma.
"But it also feels good," Regina added. When she noticed Emma ears perk up, she reached for Emma's arm and placed it over her waist once again.
Drawing small circles on Regina's back, Emma struggled to ignore the slight pang of panic in her chest. "Gina?"
Regina scoffed at the familiar nickname. "You haven't called me that in years."
"What? Sure I have. Lots of times."
Shaking her head, Regina said, "Not like that. Anyway, what were you saying?"
"I was just going to ask you… what do we do now?"
Regina shrugged under the blankets. "I'm not sure." Even at an angle, she couldn't help but get lost in Emma's gorgeous features. "There's a lot to talk about. I don't want this— I want to do this the right way."
"OK."
"Henry comes first. If he's uncomfortable with this, then—"
"Then we end it," Emma said matter-of-factly.
Slowly and wit great caution, Emma reached for Regina's face. Her fingers grazed Regina's cheek, and Regina leaned into Emma's touch with closed eyes. "We should get breakfast ready. Henry will be awake soon."
"Yeah," Emma agreed. She wriggled restlessly until Regina fit in her arms once more. Regina didn't protest, but rather, nestled her face in Emma's collarbones. With a contented sigh, Emma said, "Just a few more minutes?"
