A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I tried taking a leap forward, only to discover that I need to take two steps back. Chapters 8 & 9 should be up in fairly short order, WiFi permitting. Also, I've put Emma on the bed instead of the couch and have amended Chapter 5 to reflect as much (...it's a little thing, I know, but I found the couch stopped working in this chapter, sooo... yeah. There's that.)
...I'm also not sure how well I've written Snow. I haven't had all that much practice.
Don't own nothing, hope you enjoy.
This, I Find In You
Chapter 7: A Merciful Heart
It was a knocking at the door that woke Regina.
There was a moment - and a blush - as she extricated herself from Emma's firm embrace, recalling what had transpired just a short while ago.
She took a moment to straighten her shirt and tidy her hair and regain her composure. There wasn't much she could do about the blood that had stained the white fabric and crusted itself on her skin, but she supposed briefly that every little bit helped.
Regina placed a hand on the door, in a manner similar to the night before.
"...Password?"
"It's me."
Snow.
Sliding back the dead-bolt, she rolled her eyes – why exactly had they bothered with a password at all?
The door opened, but there was only person standing on the threshold.
As much as she hated to be concerned about her mortal enemy's well-being, she had to say that she had never seen Snow White quite so shaken.
And she particularly disliked the worry she felt for the parties missing from this exchange.
"...Where's David? ...Red?"
Snow closed her eyes and took a deep breath, an obvious effort to regain control of her voice.
"I… I couldn't… find them."
Her attempt at control failed miserably.
The words came out strangled and strange, and the weight of what the younger woman wasn't saying hung in the air between them.
Oh.
Snow hugged her arms around herself, and bounced a little on her heels, torn between wanting to know the answer to her question, and curling up into a ball and dying of heartache.
"And… Emma?"
Regina leaned again the lintel of the door, and found her hands to be completely fascinating all of a sudden. She rubbed them together and wiped them on her shirt.
"She's alive. And sleeping peacefully."
Snow slumped in relief, before stepping forward and arresting Regina in a tight embrace.
"Thank-you, Regina… I don't even care how you did it. Thank-you."
She certainly hoped she wouldn't care.
…Not that she'd necessarily mind Snow being a little upset at the fact that her daughter had been kissed – thoroughly – by the Evil Queen, after having spent the night wrapped up in her arms.
Some habits just die a little harder than others.
"…Can I see her?"
Regina stepped out of the doorway in answer, and ushered the younger woman inside. She lingered by the entrance as the other woman approached the bed, not wanting to intrude on this moment between mother and daughter. She watched as Snow seated herself on the edge of the mattress, not minding at all the vivid red stains in the bed-sheets, and reached out a hand to gently caress Emma's cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.
And Regina had to tell herself that the lump in her throat has nothing to do with jealousy at Emma for receiving a mother's loving touch.
She unconsciously lifted a hand to touch the scar on her upper lip.
No.
It had nothing to do with that at all.
Emma began to stir in the bed, with a noise somewhere between a groan and a yawn.
"…Hey mom."
Regina could well imagine the look on Snow's face at hearing those two words.
She imagines it would be much the same look that graced her own every time she heard them from Henry.
She silently excused herself from this increasingly maudlin scene and padded over to the door that she had not-so-very-gracefully escorted her son through the night before. Slowly pushing the door open and small smile graced her features at the sight of the boy curled up on the floor, his head resting on the wall by the wooden door frame. Regina crouched down on her heels and ran her hand through his hair, before gathering him up in her arms. Sleepily responding to her embrace he pressed his face in the crook of her neck and mumbled his 'good morning'.
"…How's Emma?"
"I think she's going to be okay now."
"Okay."
She could deny many things – and she did often deny them – but the warmth that flourished in her chest at that moment was not one of them. It was the little things, she found, that did this to her.
Half-asleep hugs.
Mumbled 'good mornings'.
And now this: she had said that Emma was going to be okay, and he'd believed her, just like that.
Hoisting him up onto her hip, his arms wrapped her neck; she carried him into the living area and laid him down on the couch. Her son was not a morning person, not by any means, but this morning he could wake up at his own pace.
Leaving him there, his face now firmly buried in a cushion, Regina moved to the kitchen to make coffee. Despite the fact that she'd just woken from a sleep that was sounder and far more peaceful than any she'd had in years, the emotional exhaustion of the previous had taken its toll on her. The rhythms of coffee were familiar, soothing. Emma had even made a point of buying her preferred brand, something for which she found herself profoundly grateful.
She was glad for the moment's meditation it allowed before Snow silently stepped in beside her and poured herself a warm cup.
"Hey, Regina. I'm, uh… I'm going to be going back out there again. I'm going to see if I can hunt down Cora. Going to see if I can finish this thing."
Her voice was soft and low – more schoolmarm than warrior princess. That is, if schoolmarms were the type to casually discuss their plans to track and slay wicked witches over a morning cup of coffee.
"She's still alive?"
Regina bit her lip against the sudden flurry of emotion that erupted within her at this small revelation.
Fear and… relief?
Snow quirked her lips in an expression that was half shrug, half sympathy and rather Swan.
"Things got very messy very fast last night, but so far as I can tell… yeah. She got away."
She took a moment to school her features. If anyone were ever to be privy to her emotional conflicts, that one would most certainly not be Snow White.
"...Okay."
There was a sigh at the familiar brick wall, but the younger woman would not be put off.
"Emma was… insistent that we all understood just who it was that we were up against last night."
An eyebrow quirked.
"A dangerous psychopath?"
Snow fixed her with a familiar look.
"…Who is also your mother and someone you care about. Listen – Emma's asked that I spare her life, if at all possible. But I think you know me well enough to know that I'm not going to be making any such promise. Not after last night." Silence filled the apartment "…If I find her?"
"I understand."
She didn't.
She couldn't.
…Why would Emma ask for leniency?
…Why would she ask it for the woman that had reduced her to little more than a bloody pulp?
A/N: So there it is. You've had my turn on the events of The Cricket Game & Manhattan. Up next: The Miller's Daughter.
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