Emma slinks back down to the couch, covering her head with the throw pillow, listening to the thudding of her heart until she's sure she'll only be greeted with silence. It's eons of hushed, suffocating agony before she finally pulls away, the eerie creaks and shudders of the house pulsing around her.
She closes her eyes, begging sleep to claim her as she refuses to acknowledge the pang in her heart.
XXX
"Morning," Emma mutters as she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, the bright sheets of sunlight slicing across the stark white room. She always feels out of place here, like just her presence makes the immaculate home dirty. She swallows, reminding herself that Regina deserves no better than she does. But years and years of having a low socioeconomic status have imprinted her more strongly than she'd like to admit.
"Good morning to you as well, Ms. Swan," Regina answers, clad in a slim fitting black dress and matching pumps that contrast the white glow of her skin. Her lips are a perfect shade of ruby, and not a hair falls out of place.
She's pretty – more than pretty, perhaps, and this is not the first time Emma has noticed. It makes her hate her own straw colored hair, wishing her skin weren't so pasty, her appearance so gruff. She thinks of her mother, as lovely and delicate as the woman who stands before her, wondering why she couldn't have been blessed with such desirable traits.
She leans up against the edge of the counter, the elbow of her bleak brown leather coat brushing up against the marble surface. "You got any coffee?" she asks, clearing her throat.
"I just put on a pot," Regina motions toward the far side of the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind instant – I'm in a bit of a rush this morning."
Emma scoffs. "As long as it's not dirt, I'll drink it."
A small, half smile edges across Regina's lips for a brief moment. "So, did you sleep well?"
Emma coughs for a moment, a rush of heat coursing to her face as the events from last night come back to her. "Out like a rock. You?"
Regina pauses for a moment, and suddenly Emma wishes she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Quite well."
The tension is suddenly heavy, and Emma wonders if Regina feels it as well. Henry strolls into the kitchen just a minute later, a much needed breath of relief.
"Hey, kid," Emma greets, ruffling his hair as he comes up to hug her. "Want me to drive you to school today?"
Henry's face lights up, as he grabs a muffin from the tin behind Emma. "Can I, Mom?" he turns to gain Regina's approval.
Her lips purse, and Emma is ready (and perhaps too eager) to put up a fight, but she merely nods. "Have a nice day, Henry. I love you."
He crosses the kitchen, the warmth of his body leaving Emma's side as he goes to embrace Regina. She tenderly kisses his head, a genuine smile melting onto her face.
She loves him. Emma's always known this, but now, it hits her suddenly like a punch in the gut. It leaves her feeling powerless, hopeless, as if she's already lost.
But when she takes a moment to think about, she has to wonder exactly what she's fighting for anymore.
XXX
"Charming! It's Emma – put it away!" Mary Margaret's hushed voice greets Emma as she lets herself into the apartment.
She narrows her eyes as she enters the kitchen, the warm smell of bubbling spaghetti sauce assaulting her nose. David tucks a tiny square of paper beneath a stack of ungraded papers Mary Margaret has left on the countertop. "What're you hiding?" she speaks warily.
"It's nothing, Emma," Mary Margaret nervously rubs her swollen belly. "I'm glad you could make it. Will Henry be here soon?"
"Yeah, he's just staying late for play practice at school. Regina said she'd get him," Emma informs her, leaning in dutifully for a hug. She relaxes against Mary Margaret's touch, trying her best to relish all she missed out on as a child.
She steps over toward David next, giving him an awkward wave. She doesn't quite feel comfortable hugging him yet. "So, I know you won't lie to me, Pops," she feebly jokes with David, watching him noticeably wince. "I don't like being out of the loop." She forces a laugh.
David glances over to Mary Margaret, who is biting her lip. He lets out a sigh. "Why don't we just show her, Snow?"
"James…" Mary Margaret warns, the rare use of his full name startling the two of them. But she lets out a heavy sigh. "Okay, fine. It doesn't really matter anyway, I suppose."
She reaches behind the stack of paper, producing the small square of paper. She flips it, producing a blurry black and white image.
An ultrasound.
Emma stares at it for a moment, processing just how careful they're being with her, just how evident she has made it that she no longer feels welcome here. She swallows heavily. "You don't have to keep hiding stuff like this from me," she speaks softly. "I know…I know that I'm not the best at handling all this, and I haven't really fallen into the role of, you know, your daughter like you would have liked…but I don't want you to keep feeling bad about this. Really. I'm happy for you. And I want you to be happy for your kid – my...little brother or sister," she adds, the words sounding strange, but she watches as Mary Margaret involuntarily smiles.
"Brother," Mary Margaret clarifies. "We're having a boy."
"Congrats," Emma speaks softly, reaching into embrace her again. She smiles at David over Mary Margaret's shoulder.
There's a light knock on the door a moment later, and Henry bounds in, running over to eagerly greet his grandparents. "I'm so excited for spaghetti night!"
Emma steps away, nodding toward Regina who has accompanied him to the door. Regina offers her a tiny smile. She doesn't know why, but suddenly Emma doesn't feel quite so alone.