A-N1: So sorry for the wait... This one gave me (and the muse) headache and beyond... Hope you'll enjoy nonetheless!
A-N2: I do not own the song mentioned in this chapter
Chapter 4. Room to breathe.
It was utterly unnerving and odd, yet it changed everything. The letters of the story Snow had written, the story of their meeting, so long ago, after a child had been rescued from a bolting horse, swam in the tears she couldn't stop from filling her eyes. Because the woman had not justified her actions, she had not hid behind age or manipulating witches. And somehow, that made all the difference. Somehow, in the strangest way, that made the words come alive, that made her see what she had known already for the longest time. The anger she had held onto, in fear she would crumble if she would let go, seeping out of her as water would through cupped hands. Because the words that were not written, or perhaps the fact that they were not, made her heart feel their truth.
And when she traced the ink with her fingertips, allowing the words to sink in, the apology hidden and yet screaming at her from the pages, she felt how, indeed, something broke. But it was not her soul or even her heart. It was the most comparable, perhaps, to something she remembered from her youth. The tight corsets her mother had forced on her on numerous balls, before the king had noticed her for absolutely different reasons than the size of her waist. The feeling of constriction, of not being able to breathe and then the marvelous relief when the strings were opened (sometimes cut with sharp knives close and cold to her skin) at the end of the long nights, freeing her from the baleen prison. It felt now like some of those strings had snapped, allowing her to sharply inhale and make up for a dizzying lack of oxygen.
She wasn't sure what was keeping her from falling apart, but was quite sure it had something to do with a lingering hand, grazing her back, her shoulder, sometimes covering hers and squeezing it. It grounded her, its soft warmth, pulling her back out of the memories that tumbled through her mind and heart in, what seemed, a race for her attention. But she could hardly grasp one and focus, a fact she was quite grateful for at the moment, the darkness of some a turmoil she could have so easily gotten lost in. But that hand, the caressing body part which in an odd combination of hesitance and determination kept finding her, was the lifeline she needed to dare give in to Henry's wish to open up.
She glanced up, finding those impossibly turquoise eyes, the glitter of a careful smile within them, focused on her and wondered why she wasn't up in arms, fighting the idea of anyone, Emma Swan most of all, seeing her like this. Wondered why she it didn't bother her more that she was not. The constant fighting, for every breathe she took, was exhausting, but it was what she knew. How was it possible that she had suddenly been able to shed that heavy load off of her shoulder? The importance of keeping up appearances, something torturing corsets, restricting vines, a reigning husband and a very controlling mother had taught her, seemed suddenly more of a burden than a protection. But letting go of everything she had clung onto for so long, could not be so easy now, could it?
…
It was a humming, melodic and somehow familiar, that pulled her out of her reverie and the sight of Emma, looking up at her and smiling sheepishly while handing her the glass of iced tea the blonde must have prepared, made her stomach jump and swirl in the oddest way.
'Which song is that?'
The blush immediately jumped to the other woman's cheeks, making her look absolutely adorable (did she really just think that?) and the turquoise eyes, which had moments before met hers without any reservation now darted away, making it impossible to catch them.
'I… ermm… Just a little something that got in my head, you know, while I read Henry's message to you.'
The blonde gestured awkwardly to the now closed book, obviously trying to avoid the question, which made Regina smile in a way she could actually feel in her gut, making her realize how long ago it had been that she had allowed a smile to pass the boundaries of her lips and extend to her eyes, to her heart.
She took a sip of the surprisingly tasteful beverage in her hand, astonishing herself by uttering a delighted moan and blushing at the unexpected sound. She was grateful the blonde chose to ignore it, or maybe she could even say the woman tried to protect her from the need to feel embarrassed by blurting out the sentence.
'My life would suck without you!'
She blinked, her lips parting, making her, without doubt, look extremely unladylike.
'I… What?'
'The song, you know…'
She hummed the melody again, allowing herself to fall into the couch cushions next to the brunette, offering her that self-conscious smile once more before singing the words she had just spoken, her voice much purer than Regina had ever anticipated.
'I just… You know… Argggh damn, I am so bad at this! What I'm trying to say is, if I would have gotten a chance to write something… I… Hell, well it would! I mean, do you see me in a Princess-dress, Regina? That would kinda suck!'
She cringed slightly at the odd sense of humor, not able to avoid thinking about what would have been had she never cast the curse. How Emma would have had to grow up parent-less, not have to carry the scars of growing up in the system. She looked at the blonde, feeling the incredulous pain radiating from her eyes.
'You don't see it, do you? You never know what would have happened if you hadn't created Storybrooke, Regina. Maybe Snow would have been trampled by a effin' ogre or something, or, with my luck, I would have caught some sort of iffy fairytale-flu as a kid and kicked the bucket. The one thing I do know is that if you had not brought everyone here, there would never be a Henry. And I would never be sitting here with you, trying to explain my really weird taste in music…'
The hand covered hers and squeezed it, the smile now changed, slight around the lips but ever so present in the twinkling turquoise she couldn't look away from.
'So, what I'm trying to say is, "My life would suck without you…"'
The words swirled up, very much like the corners of her lips and where she knew she would have, only a day ago, done everything in her power to keep them in, right now she couldn't even contemplate doing so, which made her feel so free, the sheer force of it brought dizziness.
'Likewise, Emma.'
Turquoise eyes widened and brightened, as if their owner received a gift consisting of those two small words lingering in the space between them. But the fire in them flickered and extinguished as fast as it had risen. Emma's hand hovered in the air in what seemed an attempt to stroke back a lock of escaped, brown hair, but the careful approach was abruptly halted by the woman jerking back, panic raging in the swirling bluish color.
'Regina? Listen… I know you told the kid you would do this, and please, don't get me wrong, I…'
The skittish eyes found hers in a silent but genuine plea before quickly being averted again.
'You don't have to do this… I… Henry… I think… Oh hell!'
'Just breathe, dear.'
'Well I you heard him about this operation thing, and I think he did something. I think he Magicked something to make you more… Arghhh how do I say this?'
Being more ineloquent would actually be considered an art-form.
'Do you have any idea how endearing it is when you stumble through your words like that?'
It took her a moment of taking in Emma Swan's astonished features to realize her slip-up.
Endearing? Annoying!
But it wasn't… It had never been annoying. It had always cut through her and pushed her, affected her. But what had caused the sharpness in her reactions had always ever been caused by her own response, the impossible and painful yearning in her heart, the surfacing of her feelings for her son's birthmother.
Wait… What?
The ringing of the doorbell, echoing through the house louder than she could ever remember the sound being, made her jump up and back, realizing how much her heart was pulled in exactly the opposite direction. Things she had never admitted, least of all to herself, surfaced when the rhythm of that treacherous organ changed at the moment her eyes met Emma's.
Oh my gods…
It felt terribly odd and yet, in an amazing way, it made everything fall into place. Was it really possible all those feelings, all those fears and all that passion had collided into that one word her heart was screaming now?
The all too familiar sound she has missed for much too long, of Henry almost tumbling down the stairs in his haste to get the door, made her smile despite herself. But when she, trembling with the force of the strange realization, averted her eyes again, her heart and smile faltered at the sight of the most unlikely couple ever to set foot on her porch.
They seemed to be leaving actually, the man almost angry in his movements. She probably imagined being able to hear the staccato of his cane meeting stone as he glanced to the woman beside him, who stood determined and firm, smiling over her shoulder to the person at the door (Henry?). When blue eyes found the form of the man who was her true love, however, they radiated a contempt she had never seen in the girl who had been her prisoner for many years.
A voice she would always recognize drifted to her from the hallway and she shivered at the emotions, attacking her with the force of lightning. She saw, as through a haze, Emma's concerned glance, but couldn't focus on it. It was a classical case of: too much, too soon and yet she couldn't help but want to cherish this odd vulnerability she was experiencing now. Because no matter how it hurt, it was preferable over the empty haze she had allowed herself to drift into in Henry's absence, preferable over the cold, tormented anger she had hold onto for much too long. It ached, sharply and yet this ache, which she could taste on the tip of her tongue, made her feel alive in a way she hadn't for… as long as she could remember.
Because even with Daniel, there had always been the reservations. The fear of her mother finding out, the urge to keep hidden. She had never experienced freedom, always the prisoner. Of her mother, her tutor, her husband, fate. But most of all… of her own fears.
'Henry, no! Oh sweety, you can't just expect that she will want to see me just because… It's too complicated, really, she won't just not hate me because she read…'
Her feet had carried her past the savior, to the source of the sound, the owner of the familiar voice, whose back is now turned to her as she takes Henry's bag in her hands.
'Actually, I never truly did, dear.'
The words exited at the exact moment she knew them to be true and the woman turned around, an odd seashell-shaped object in hand, with a jump that would have satisfied her immensely only a day before. But the hazel eyes, first radiating shock and slight fear quickly seemed to adjust and widen.
'Regina?'
The question was careful and hesitant, almost like a child reluctant to believe a lost friend has, indeed, returned. And oddly, maybe that was exactly the case. Because she saw it, mirrored in Snow's eyes, the recognition of the woman she had been, once upon a time. And with that recognition came the hope she thought she'd lost, forever.
…
She stared at the object in her hand, while Emma was busy in the kitchen, doing the-gods-know-what while hopefully not touching any of the electrical equipment and she felt something ripple through her at the unfamiliar sounds. A longing that made her tremble with such intensity, the shell almost slipped through her fingers to shatter on the floor. The sense of his Magic on it, resonating against her palm, almost made her want to allow it to do just that, but something, peaked, morbid curiosity perhaps or simple cowardice, made her cling onto the ridged seashell as if the object was the answer to everything…
Which, maybe, it was.
'Hey…'
'Emma!'
The name tumbled off of her lips as she jumped, much as the blonde's mother had done only moments before while picking up Henry. Their brief interaction had been awkward, to say the least. She had felt the place in her abdomen where her usual sharp comments came from, swirl in overdrive as she had simply stood there, face to face to Snow White. Thank the gods, Emma had chosen that moment to actually fuss over both her mother and their son, something Regina had never seen her do and was quite sure had as only purpose to pull attention away from her. There had been a moment, however, after the enthusiastic hug Henry had gifted her with, that her eyes had caught the hazel ones once more. The woman had lingered in the doorway and, perhaps much like in the story she had written, what had been left unsaid resounded loudest through her soul. Because she saw in the hazel the words that last post scriptum had not dared to speak and knew, at exactly that moment that that same emotion still coursed through her own veins.
Words of gratitude and maybe even of the almost painful warmth behind her sternum had laid on the tip of her tongue when the woman she had once considered her archenemy had risen her hand and smiled, knowingly, before quickly making her exit.
She sighed at the thought, knowing that if she was honest, which today she couldn't seem to avoid being, she had to admit that she herself had always been her own biggest enemy.
Because it was her who hadn't been decisive enough to stand up to her controlling mother until it had been too late. It had been her who had chosen to crush the woman's heart in devastation of losing the last sliver of hope to bring back Daniel. It had been her who'd cowardly chosen resent over love, when it had been offered to her by the Fairy who had saved her.
'Holy hell, Regina!'
Looking up at the sound of Emma's amazed outcry, she caught a glimpse of projected images, flashing before her, her younger self slipping off of the balcony after her aggressive attack of the railing only to be captured by Tinkerbell's Magic just in time. The seashell in her hand was the source of the flickering pictures which accompanied her memories and she placed the offensive object quickly on the coffee table, stepping away from it as if it had burned her.
'What the actual fuck?'
'My sentiments exactly, dear…'
A quiver, never before in her voice, vibrated though her and she closed her eyes, trying to control the emotions rushing through her about what she had just seen. Had her eyes flickered with disappointment when she had been rescued? Had she, honestly, wanted to fall?
'Regina…'
Worry and care swirled in turquoise eyes and she wanted so much for them to be genuine, despite the fact she did not, what so ever, deserve such kindness and she took a step closer to the other woman. She was somehow drawn, much like a wanderer in the desert when finding water. Quite sure it was a Fata Morgana rather than the promised oasis and still not able to refuse feet to travel to the one thing craved above all others.
'I…'
A hand went up with Emma's hesitant start of her sentence, something, Regina was quite sure of it, she would never have been able to resist making a comment about, effectively hiding her own feelings and crushing the sliver of confident left in her… opponent? But, had she ever allowed herself to see anyone as anything different? As perhaps, an ally? Or maybe, even more?
'I talked to Henry before and erm… Well he wouldn't really tell me, but I'm kinda sure this is some sort of wish thing?'
'A wish thing?'
'Yeah, Regina you know, the whole blowing out a candle, falling star, fairy dust, Enchanted Forest bullshit?'
As she cringed involuntarily at the forceful tone the blonde wielded and stepped back, she saw Emma's features immediately soften.
'Ah shit, sorry I'm just… This Magic stuff, I don't know how to deal with it. And you… You're not yourself and I don't want you to do things, say things you will regret just because Henry poofed away your…'
The hesitation at the end of the sentence was painfully clear. And despite the ache that clawed at her throat radiating from her chest, she found herself carefully approaching the savior yet again. But where she had meant to make her voice drip with condescending sarcasm, she found that this time it were not the words but the tone that was changed to one of self-loathing vulnerability.
'My 'bitchiness', dear?'
The blonde looked up in alarm, now herself taking the last step to cross the distance between them, her hand hovering in the air before aimlessly being dropped to the side.
'Your defenses! And I just… I don't… Regina I don't want to take advantage…'
Turquoise eyes now pleaded before her, to understand, or maybe rather, to not misunderstand. She saw something there she hadn't even known she needed, and yet when she did everything fell into place. Emma Swan wanted to protect her, now that she herself could not…
Suddenly the earlier spoken words were starting to connect. Could it indeed be that Henry (or anyone?) had wished (or cursed?) her protective walls away? But with what purpose? To hurt or to help? What would the consequences be of her telling, or… she glanced at the seashell at the thought… showing Emma the story of her past?
She looked down for the slightest moment, the hand that had hovered so close to her shoulder before being withdrawn still purposelessly dangling at its owner's side.
A hand so strong and capable… A hand that had once cut her apple tree, had drawn blood, had pulled her son away from her. But also one that had grasped her in a fire, pushed her out of a wraith's way and today, with careful caresses, had grounded her.
And before the panic could fully overwhelm her, she remembered the feeling of being freed from the corset, the breath she took incredibly liberating as it filled her with the truth of the thought.
If she was safe anywhere, it was with this woman…
She looked up and found the beautiful, swirling color she'd started to associate with the blonde dart away from her in avoidance. She reached out, her fingers enveloping the wrist, effectively forcing turquoise eyes to meet her own.
She felt the Magic pulsate against her palm, rushing from her fingertips to merge with the bluish hue Emma's wrist radiated at the place where skin met skin.
She waited until she had the blonde's full attention, her eyes as earnest and trusting as her words.
'You may not want to take advantage, Emma. But maybe I do.'
Confusion was replaced by understanding as Emma's eyes widened before narrowing slightly.
'Are you sure?'
If she had not been, the question would have made her. Her hand travelled to her chest, feeling her ribcage move freely as she inhaled. She smiled, quivery, while letting the breathe escape in one word.
'Yes.'
…
Approximately 36 hours before:
'You never wanted to help her anyway! You're supposed to be good, but you're nothing but a liar, you lied to Snow about the wardrobe and now you're lying to me about the wish! I… DON'T… BELIEVE… YOU!'
The boy turned around, anger spitting from his words and features and moments before stoic eyes grew wide as she felt the ache, weakening her wings when the last words vibrated through them.
'Henry, I assure you, I am not trying to tell you what to do with your wish, which, I have to warn you, might come true, but not free. I am merely pointing out that many people have tried to help your mother and, well, I also have to say that all of them have failed.'
'Maybe the question is, Blue… Were you ever one of them? Or did you just hide in the shadows and watch others fail?'
A voice, now almost oddly distorted in its confidence where it otherwise was always laced with apologizing hesitance, made its way to her as its owner stepped from the shadows just mentioned, her brown eyes sparkling with an anger Reul Ghorm had never seen in the woman before.
'Or did you even make them fail, as you did, so efficiently, with my plans? You say Fairies live on believe, Blue, but maybe you have to face that you have put yours in the wrong things, the wrong people and the wrong side. And maybe just a little too much in yourself. Henry is right. You have never cared for what was truly good. You've only cared for what was good for you.'
'Astrid!'
'My name is Nova, Blue. I am a Fairy who is in love with a Dwarf. I am clumsy and odd but my heart knows what is right… Henry will get his wish. Free of charge!'
Nova held out the sparkling powder in her hand making the other Fairy gasp, but as she reached for the wand she knew would help her prevent the insubordinate woman to carry out her plan, she felt the Magical Item escape from her grasp and make its way to Nova's free hand.
The woman awkwardly caught the wand, almost spilling the precious dust in the process, her brown eyes widening when it sparkled in a hue of strong Magic at the moment it touched her skin.
The boy also watched in awe while the powerful piece of enchanted wood changed of owner, his hazel eyes glittering as he smiled to the incompetent, undeserving, poor excuse for a Fairy. But as Reul Ghorm tried to step forward, she was pushed back by something far more ancient. Something suffocating and raw that made her tremble.
'The error of one's ways is one of the hardest one to see, Blue…'
The kind smile Nova offered seemed odd in combination with the ache ripping her apart, but somehow did provide some of the intended comfort.
'But it is my wish that you do, so you can soften the hardness that has found its way in your heart. I do believe you're worth my wish, Reul Ghorm, because I do believe that once you'll see, you will agree with everything I am about to do…'
Swirling Magic surrounded her as she started to see the images of herself as a young Fairy, not agreeing with the decisions made by her superior, her heart aching as she had glanced down at the turmoil people seemed to create without guidance… Sinking back into her visualized memories, she heard the words come from afar, their meaning lost as their sound only just reached her.
'Now, Henry, let's see about that wish…'
…
TBC
A-N: Regina's turmoil was hard to write this chapter... Without her usual walls the thorn is exposed, yet not yet extracted. Very curious to read what you think!
