So, I'm either terrible with fluff or have caught the eye of those here for the angst… either way. Thanks for the reviews and follows! Here ye be.
Song: Clarity by Zedd (Acoustic)
Sunlight.
For the first time in two weeks, Emma finally felt the sun on her face. Sure, winter crept just around the corner, but she'd never been so long without a break in the clouds. She felt Ruby's questioning eyes on her back across the room from where she stood at the window sighing and groaning in relief that small warmth brought. Granny gave up the idea that Emma occupied her own room a week ago after finding them curled into the same tiny bed every morning. The one night they attempted apart, Emma woke up screaming, so Granny had another twin bed moved into Ruby's room in their apartment above the diner. To Emma's relief, she never asked what caused the terror and never mentioned the incident to Ruby who would have surely pried.
"I wish I could skip school and go to the cemetery. Mom always loved picnics on cold, sunny days in the fall."
Emma grinned, a wildness that reached her eyes as she faced her friend. The bright light silhouetted her form, shiny white rays bursting around her ever-growing belly. It wouldn't be long now.
"So, play hooky and let's go."
"Granny will kill me," Ruby dismissed the idea without second thought.
"I'm not going to tell her, and you never miss school. No one will think anything is off if you miss half a day." Emma vibrated with excitement, bounding across the room faster than her pregnant body should have allowed. She grabbed Ruby's hand and spun the thin girl. "Come on, Rubes. Play hooky with me."
Wild laughter followed until Ruby got dizzy from the shifting scenery and fell into Emma. She held her breath, glanced up at Emma. They laughed harder, leaning on each other for support.
"What the hell is happening in my house? You two could wake the damn dead." Granny's bulk hovered near the door, more amused than annoyed. Ruby tried to speak, gasped instead. Her red face buried against Emma's shoulder to muffle her laughter. Emma's attempt yielded about as much coherency. After a minute, Granny rolled her eyes and left the room, which inspired another bout of giggles.
They collapsed on Ruby's bed. Emma grabbed her belly when the tiny monster joined the fun. Ruby cupped the baby's favorite spot to kick and punch, still amazed by the life within her friend. Her scarred arm rested atop the bump, exposed to the world. She'd stopped hiding it from Emma because somehow the older girl made her feel normal, even with the scars. The baby settled as their giggles died out, and Ruby laid her head on Emma's shoulder, knowing her light weight no strain on the well-sculpted arm beneath her waist.
Emma propped her head with her free arm and pulled Ruby's emaciated body against her belly, tracing an old, white line with the other thumb. "Doesn't it hurt?" She blurted without thinking. They never really talked about Ruby's self-mutilation. They never really talked about anything serious, and it felt good to forget about the world during their late night giggles and movie marathons.
"It feels better than what I feel inside." Ruby raised onto an elbow to look at the jagged scars overtaking her pale flesh. "It's like… I mean, I know everyone thinks I'm a suicidal freak, but I don't want to die… I just… it's like, if they can see them, it's like they can see the pain I feel inside. They can see me, and I'm not going to just fade away as long as I show the world what's on the inside. Dr. Hopper says it's a common reaction for kids who have been abused or traumatized. We'd rather punish ourselves than lash out at the people causing us pain."
Emma brushed her thumb over the multitude of bumps and absorbed the explanation with understanding rather than judgement. "You don't deserve to be punished, Ruby. You're the sweetest person I've ever met, and I wish you wouldn't let those bastards make you feel this way."
"Dr. Hopper says I should go see my dad. He thinks it would help me find closure if I confront him. That's where Granny was the night you came to Storybrooke. She went to see him." Ah, that explained Ruby's heavy mutilation that day and Granny's willingness to leave her alone. "I think it helped. She's been talking about redecorating the diner. That stupid wolf wall paper is hideous."
Emma chuckled and squeezed Ruby's arm, healing the emotional hurt within the physical scars. "It's like the set of a bad horror movie."
"That's what I keep telling her!"
"Telling me what?" Granny grouched from the door.
"That spiders aren't creepy," Ruby mumbled. She shared a grin with Emma.
"You best not be bringing anymore of those critters into my house, you hear? Now, get moving before you're late."
"Yes, Granny." The teen obediently slipped off the bed and into a thin jacket that she'd wear over her arms during the day, her cape for warmth against the cold day, the first day of November. The old woman hugged her tight and then sent her on to school, dashing their plans of escape.
"And you, Regina is terrorizing my customers. Get downstairs before I swat you good."
"Shit, is my appointment today?" She'd not spoken to Regina since the night of the fair. Granny shook her head and disappeared.
Emma shimmied out of the bed and pulled on the red leather jacket she'd bought on Regina's dime. It wasn't nearly large enough to zip around the baby bump, but after she gave birth, it was going to look awesome. Why not take advantage completely if Regina so graciously demanded her to be well-dressed? Plus, the 'ghastly representation of fashion' irritated the snippy woman, so it made Emma happy on all fronts. Too bad her feet were too swollen to fit into the brown leather riding boots. Sneakers would have to do.
The little white tiger she'd won that night stared at her where its head poked from beneath her pillow. She'd behaved horribly to Regina who had already been on edge and tense. She should have stayed for her speech. "Shut up," she muttered to the little creature and stomped out of the room. It wasn't like Regina would have accepted her apology if she tried, so why bother?
Folks waved when she entered the dining room. She grinned at them and breezed behind the counter to pour a cup of coffee. An obscene amount of sugar and cream diluted the black liquid to the color of dark caramel eyes. Emma raised the mug in salute before bringing it to her lips. Regina covered the top, red nails poking Emma's chin across the counter.
"Must you always be a child?"
"Must you always shove a stick up your ass every morning?"
"Miss Swan." A steadying breath. A cheeky grin.
"Madame Mayor," Emma attempted in the same frustrated tone, but the laughter quivering in her voice ruined it. She relinquished the mug without further argument as a customer approached the cash register. The mayor jerked at the sudden weight in her hands, barely keeping the hot liquid from spilling all over her young charge. Emma transformed the laughter into a brilliant smile, catching Regina by surprise. She looked so young and carefree in that moment, but the wisdom in those fascinating green eyes constantly reminded her that somewhere in her short life Emma learned how to manipulate people through years of neglect and abuse.
"Madame Mayor, it's so wonderful of you to drive me all the way to city for my appointment. The bus is hell on my back. This little critter," she patted her belly for effect, keeping an eye on the woman waiting at the register – Casey, the longshorewoman who witnessed the showdown between them that first night. "is hell on my body."
Dark red spread up Regina's chest, like a cartoon thermometer that indicated anger. Any moment now, the mercury top blew off and sprayed acid everywhere. Emma's smile transformed into a smirk. She stepped up to the cash register, pretending to only have seen the woman in that moment.
"Casey, did you know that Mayor Mills is driving me to all of my appointments? She even had Stacy set them up and everything." The woman glanced at Regina who forced a smile so big, she actually looked like a cartoon animation, her cheeks nearly purple then. "She even bought me some new clothes. Isn't this jacket gorgeous?"
"It's too small, and it's hideous," Regina muttered. Casey looked at her funny, and she forced another smile. "But of course, I don't believe in regulating other women's clothes."
Emma leaned forward conspiratorially, using a stage whisper, "She secretly likes leather, if you know what I mean." A wink at the longshorewoman had her bolting for the door, red-faced and smirking at the mayor. Oh yeah, she could do some damage to a pretty young woman in bed.
"I hate you." Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd drunk herself to sleep the previous night; Emma could tell by the residual headache that followed her around the next day. She'd reached the limit of Emma's teasing.
"Do I have time to grab breakfast?"
Regina tapped the foam box next to her as she set the mug on the counter, leaving a ring of light brown on the linoleum. "I've taken the liberty since you seem incapable of punctuality." Apparently, they'd both silently agreed to forget the incident on Founder's Day, both apologizing in their own way.
"Awww, you do care," Emma exclaimed, clutching her hands to her chest. Giggles and smirks circulated the diner. The kid certainly gave the mayor a run for her money, confusing them further as to why the crabby woman endured the obvious torture.
"Hardly. I simply wish to be done with our time as quickly as possible. I do have a town to run and responsibilities, Miss Swan." Regina pushed the container across the counter and turned swiftly towards the door, uncomfortable with the rapt attention from the commoners witnessing the potentially tender display of her giving a damn about Emma's needs and health. "There is a bottle of water in the car. Don't dawdle any longer than necessary."
Emma snagged a package of plastic cutlery from beneath the counter, sucked a gulp of the sticky sweet substance she deemed coffee, and followed the prickly woman. "Granny, you need me to bring you back anything?"
"Watermelon," the woman yelled from the food window. "Your damn pregnancy cravings have depleted my stock, and it ain't cheap this time a year, girl."
"You got it, o-cappy-ton."
Fishy Christmas surrounded her, but not even that odd scent dampened her mood when the sunshine hugged her body, contrasting nicely with the cold, stout wind wafting off the ocean. Regina waited in a huff as she fiddled with the seatbelt strap until it settled above and below her belly comfortably. Emma grinned, Regina rolled her eyes.
"Admit it, you sort of like me."
"I'd like to draw and quarter you," Regina mumbled and pulled onto the empty street.
"I see her majesty is quite hung over again. Don't get crabby and start killing off your best servants." Emma snickered at the tongue click and opened her breakfast, decked out with enough garnish to serve actual royalty. "Watermelon would have been sufficient."
"Nutrition is more important now than ever in your last trimester." Emma chewed a bite of grilled turkey breast – too damn odd to acknowledge as a breakfast food – and studied the odd woman. Shadows flickered over her face, light filtering through the trees on the desolate road leading out of town. Not for the first time, Emma concocted a million different stories about how Regina obtained so much knowledge about pregnancy. She had no children, never indicated she wanted them.
"One day you'll tell me," she murmured. Regina's eyes shifted long enough to watch a piece of watermelon disappear.
"Tell you what?"
"Seriously, why do you know so much about pregnancy? Pregnant women don't even know that much about it."
"Do not mistake me for your friend, Miss Swan." Hands tensed around the steering wheel, white and pink from the pressure. Her driving, like everything else about Regina, stayed tense and riddled with anxiety. No wonder she drank. Woman needed to relax.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Highness," Emma muttered, pouty. Every attempt to bust through Regina's walls ended with her simply bashing her head against brick with no progress. Sometimes, she thought they'd cracked a little – softening of her smoky eyes, unexplained gentleness in her voice. Those moments always scratched her deepest because she let her guard down, reaching out to the other woman as tortured as she. "Thanks for breakfast." Emma braced, knowing what came next.
"It wasn't kindness, Miss Swan, only a desire to end this day as quickly as possible. Your gratitude is not necessary."
A rush of heat flushed Emma's cheeks, a lightening flash of rage that trembled in her hands. She punched the window control, blonde hair whipping into tangles from the cold air blowing into the warm car. With a flick of her wrist, she flung the foam container into the wind, watermelon and cottage cheese spattering down the side of Regina's Mercedes. Smoke rolled. Rubber squalled on wet blacktop. Regina threw the shifter into park before the car stopped moving completely and twisted in her seat with a glare harsh enough to actually startle Emma out of her anger.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing." Emma shrugged, playing disinterested in the entire reaction. "If it wasn't kindness, it shouldn't offend you if I didn't want it. What do you care?"
"I don't," Regina snapped.
"Good. Don't strain yourself. Save it for the cameras." Slumping into the seat, Emma stared out the window, face as neutral as possible. Okay, maybe she wasn't over the Founder's Day incident. Maybe everyone was right. Regina cared about Regina and not much else. Her striking, almost exotic, appearance and unusual eyes tricked Emma into believing the woman worth befriending. She should have learned her lesson by then, not just with Regina. People sucked. Life sucked. You survived and then you died, nothing more.
The mayor sucked a breath, lips parted. Black hair shimmied as she shook her head, apparently searching for something to say. After a moment, she clicked her tongue and punched the window lock button on her door.
"Seriously?"
"If you wish to behave like a child, I shall treat you as one." It's not what she'd meant to say, but apologies never came easily – or at all in Regina's case. She owed the immature brat nothing and paid good money for her pretend loyalty.
The car moved again without further comment from Regina. The trip passed in silence, only the trees and hum of the engine for company. Eventually, nature gave way to the random house. The random house became four lanes of traffic, fast food joints, that sour milk scent that accompanied major freeways into large cities. Why sour milk? Already the sound overwhelmed Emma after the peaceful slush of the sleepy, wet roads of Storybrooke. She'd always been a city girl, so the realization of actually enjoying small-town life alarmed her.
"Why did you demand this of me when you knew how it would end?" Regina broke the silence as she pulled into a huge hospital parking lot. Of course, her doctor was part of a major health system.
"Because I didn't want to come alone, and I knew you wouldn't get mushy and sentimental about the baby." That wasn't exactly a lie. With a sigh, Emma unbuckled her seatbelt, stomach growling. She'd never tell Regina that she really wanted that breakfast now that she'd calmed. "And I kind of wanted to get to know you better, since I am helping you get re-elected. Ya know, make sure you're doing your job."
"You're going to be late," Regina dodged the sliver of emotion Emma displayed and opened the door.
"And that would just be the most horrible thing in the world."
One step up and two giant emotional explosions back.
After a maze of hallways that Regina navigated with suspicious ease, they reached an office; according to the sign, it specialized in obstetrics, gynecology, and in vitro fertilization. Regina filled out a bunch of crap and supervised over Emma's shoulder as she completed her parts of the forms. They asked the same questions ten times and then finally made her sign a form which allowed them to treat her. What the fuck was she there for if not to be treated? Idiots.
"I don't have an ID," she confided, glancing anxiously towards the receptionist already eying her like she knew.
Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, irritated. The second she raised her fury to the wide green eyes of a terrified young woman, saw the slight scribble from the involuntary tremor in her hand where it pressed the pen to the form. Her date of birth froze her cold – September 19, no year. A warm palm covered her thumb, wrapped steadier fingers around longer ones. 1987 appeared in irrefutable black ink. Caramel eyes studied the number, hand still poised atop Emma's.
"I'm 19," she finally revealed her age.
Slight pressure on her hand. A comforting gesture or reflex? "Today you're 17 and under my care. They really don't care who you are as long as my card number is on file."
"Thank you."
"I've not agreed to this ridiculous ploy only to end embarrassed, Miss Swan," the mayor snapped, jerked her hand away to adjust her blazer and skirt. The sting of rejection Emma expected never followed the rebuke – instead, understanding. Regina snapped when others were vulnerable to prevent herself from opening up to the amount of trust and respect being shown. Emma smiled and studied the huffy woman with new eyes.
"What?" Regina looked anywhere but her eyes, so Emma lowered them to the form.
Her smile, however, and the warm glow in her chest refused to be muted. "Nothing."
Eyes, not actions, Swan. Sometimes the nicest people intended irreparable harm, and sometimes, those hardest to love offered the most – needed the most. Everyone had a story, and Emma decided she wanted to know Regina's, even if it killed her. The only person in her life she'd not been able to charm immediately sat next to her begging to be cracked open and explored.
Regina returned the forms, said a few words. The glass closed with no further question to her identity, not one suspicious eye in her direction. The wait passed in silence with both of them pressed as far from the other as possible in plushy green and maroon striped chairs. Two other women, about as pregnant as she, read magazines. This was what normal life felt like. It made Emma nervous enough to jump when her name was called.
"You're going with me?" She blurted when Regina stood in unison.
Regina floundered, glanced between the nurse and receptionist. Mayor Mills slipped into her mask, took control of the situation. "You're 17."
"Uh huh. I told you that you kind of liked me."
"And I told you that having an affair with our father's boyfriend was a terrible idea." Regina crossed her arms, smirking at the flush that eclipsed Emma's pale cheeks. Payback for the leather comments, no doubt.
"That's…" Emma laughed nervously and cleared her throat. "I didn't… she's…"
"Move it. I haven't all day, little sister." Regina gave her a tiny shove towards the nurse desperately trying to cover her shock of the fake revelation.
"I hate you."
"If you hate me so much, perhaps you should ask Garrett for help. Oh, that's right. He and father are vacationing in Aruba until the end of the month."
"Okay. Stop. I'm going. Geesh."
Thankfully, Regina waited in the hall while she changed into the flimsy gown with the assistance of the nurse. She kept her head down for the most part, out of respect and probably embarrassment of the concocted family history. She helped Emma out of her bra and then continued with the same questions she'd answered on the forms in the waiting room. Seriously, they weren't concerned at all with efficiency in this place.
"Tara, will you please let the doctor know that I don't want to know the sex?"
"Of course. Sit tight. It'll be just a couple minutes. Do you want me to ask your sister to come in?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
"I didn't know Mayor Mills had a sister."
"Yeah, they don't talk about me much. Step-sister," she confided, secretive. The nurse nodded. "Storybrooke is a long way from here, but you still call her mayor. She come here a lot?"
"I can't say much, but she has been a patient for years." She finished something on the chart. "I'll let the doctor know you're ready."
Emma glared. Regina smirked. The wait passed again in silence. A middle-aged woman with wavy brown hair streaked with grey breezed into the room, far too comfortable with touching the genitals and breasts of perfect strangers and too peppy to set Emma at ease. The sonogram passed without incident. Emma covered her ears when she listened to the baby's heartbeat, kept her eyes pointed directly at the ceiling. Regina watched the screen, listened without comment on Emma's behavior or the baby's vital signs. Her surprisingly calm demeanor, almost like she forced herself not to react, soothed Emma much more than the doctor's feedback and explanations. Emma focused on her steady gaze when the doctor cleaned her belly of the gel and guided her feet to heel rests she pulled from the end of the table.
"Uhhh, what are you doing?"
"Pap smear and vaginal exam. Your chart says you've never had one. Just want to make sure everything is normal. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, it's fine." Emma forced herself to lay back, gripping the sheet with both hands. The doctor's voice faded, the buzzing of fluorescent lights died away. Only blinding light, Regina's calm eyes, and the pounding of blood echoing in her ears remained.
"You're not going to touch her," Emma vowed, stepping between him and the girl.
"Who's going to stop me? You?"
"If I have to."
"Stop," she whispered, struggling upright.
"Almost finished. Try to relax."
"I said stop!" Adrenaline pulled her up. The foreign object disappeared. The doctor glanced at Regina, back to Emma slightly panicked.
"We're done here." Emma rolled off the bed, not bothering to clean the goop from her thighs or donning undergarments. Her jeans squished and breasts jiggled painfully as she bolted for the door, bra and panties in hand. She couldn't bring herself to stop until she followed enough exit signs to find the parking lot.
Finally, in the cold air and warm sun, she started breathing again.
Regina found her leaning against the passenger door, head bowed and shivering from the sharp wind. She handed her the hideous red leather atrocity, but Emma gave no indication she intended to put it on.
"Miss Swan, care to explain yourself?"
"Just unlock the doors and take me back to Storybrooke."
"I believe I've earned an explanation. You mysteriously arrive in my town late at night with no history, no money, no identification. For all I know, you may have killed someone and are…"
"Regina, please." Maybe it was the use of her first name, perhaps the sheer desperation in Emma's plea, but she pressed the fob to the door locks and let the girl off the hook.
By the time Regina stopped outside the diner, Emma's silence unnerved her to the point of craving a drink. It was only just after 10, far too soon to indulge that side of herself, but still the urge remained, accompanied with the odd desire to make her young charge feel secure again. The moment passed her by in the search for the rights words, and Emma opened the door.
"I didn't kill anyone," she murmured and then left the car faster than Regina absorbed the information.
She watched her disappear into the diner's warmth and retrieved two pieces of photo paper from the pocket of her blazer. A distorted image of a baby boy stared back at her, his tiny fist above his head like he slept peacefully. In a moment of insanity, she tucked them into the visor beside a much older, blurrier picture of an unborn child the size of a peach seed. Fingers trembled when she tried to trace each picture, not quite bringing herself to touch what she'd never have. Granny appeared at the diner door, obviously upset by Emma's mental state. Regina slammed the visor shut and took off towards her empty mansion and the liquid comfort that waited there.