Title: Butterfly Effect
Author: misscanteloupe
Rating: M
Summary: In her final year of college, Emma finds she has more to account for than the extra credits she needs in order to graduate. Only... she doesn't expect it to come in the form of her newest instructor, Professor Regina Mills. AU Swan Queen
Regina never calls her that night.
Emma tries her best not to appear desperate and clingy when she feels as though she's grasping for straws. She waits until midnight, working on her debate paper in the meantime as she glances at her phone every few minutes. In the end she gives in and gives Regina a call instead.
The call goes straight to voicemail.
Emma isn't freaking out. She's been through enough relationships - albeit short ones that don't quite earn the label of one night stands - to know there could be a hundred reasons why Regina's phone is off. She could still be upset and purposely ignoring Emma, which - okay - that honestly does nothing to settle Emma's nerves. But if there's anything that Emma's learned in the three and a half months she's known Regina, it's patience, and the ability to give someone space when they need it.
So, Emma doesn't freak out.
She isn't scheduled for her debate class the following day, but she does stand by Regina's office like she usually does when they meet up, except it's half past four and Regina's office hours are from three to five. Emma has been standing there for over an hour, and not once does Regina stop by to even check if her office is on fire.
By five thirty Emma's already late for work. And the freaking out part? Yeah, Emma's not so sure about that anymore.
She has half a mind to call out and march straight to Regina's house. Aside from the fact that her car is still in the shop, she also doesn't have the money to get it out and drive by to her heart's content.
So she meets up with Belle just before rush hour ends, ignoring the disapproving glare the brunette tosses her as she makes her way to the backroom to see what stocks need to be put up. There isn't a whole lot to do to keep her mind off yesterday's events. It's after she's halfway finished through her workload that she decides to approach Belle in the hopes of gathering some information.
"Hey," Emma greets tentatively. "Sorry I was late."
Belle tosses her another stern look that only softens after spotting the weary expression on Emma's face.
"It's okay, Emma," Belle assures her, and offers her a sympathetic smile. "I just want you to call if you're running late and if you can't make it. Is everything alright?"
Rolling her shoulders in a shrug, Emma sighs and musters the courage to look Belle in the eye. "Not really. I was actually hoping you could answer some questions I have."
"I can try," Belle tells her. "Are they book-related?"
"Not exactly," Emma trails off and adds, "You were a student here back in '010, right? Five years ago?"
At Belle's nod, Emma throws away any notion of giving Regina space and proceeds with her next question.
"What can you tell me about Cora Mills?"
Emma doesn't learn much more than she already knew, having done some of her own research back when she had been trying to pry in Regina's life for her own advantage. Cora Mills had been an important member of the board before she'd moved on to politics, having saved her daughter a position as an instructor just two years after she left.
She's now the Mayor of some city down in Florida, the majority of the population being Conservative. According to Belle she wasn't well liked among the staff and students, as she was cruel and thrived for more power than her position warranted.
"It was rumored that she was after Mr. Gold's status," Belle explains afterward. "After her husband died, it all became a game of power. She was rather good at manipulation. I can't imagine how awful it is to use it against your only daughter."
"What do you mean?"
"Henry Mills was from a wealthy lineage. After he died, the money he left in his Will had somehow been transferred from his daughter's name to Cora's. So all the money that was donated to charity under the Mills foundation might've been on Professor Mills' part. But legally, the money is actually her mother's."
It made sense in a way. Regina had never mentioned her mother. On the rare occasion that Emma would ask about her family, Regina would blatantly skip over any details of Cora Mills and focus primarily on the good man her father was. The fear she showed when Gold had made the subtle threat of using her mother against her now made made sense.
Cora Mills practically has her daughter wrapped around her thumb.
Emma has no idea how to bring this up when she sees Regina the next day. She lingers by the doorway of the classroom, thirty minutes before class is supposed to begin as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend sitting at her desk.
Emma breathes in deeply before rapping lightly on the door. The sound causes Regina's head to lift up as their gazes lock.
"Hi," Emma breathes. She stands hesitantly by the door, her heart pounding furiously in her chest while she waits for Regina's response.
"Emma," Regina greets her amicably. Her smile is more subdued than normal. "Come sit."
It's those two words that spark the flutter of hope in her chest again. Regina doesn't seem angry at her anymore. Maybe what happened really was a moment of emotional distress. Maybe they can move on and work towards some sort of solution.
Grabbing the spare seat in front of the desk, Emma pulls it over and sits. "You never called."
"I'm sorry," Regina states after a long moment, her eyes unusually dull when she meets Emma's stare. She looks tired. "I've been rather busy lately."
"So busy that you can't even return my texts?"
"If it makes you feel better, I turned my phone off to avoid getting any unwanted calls. Namely from my mother."
"It doesn't," Emma says with a frown, but pushes past the hurt as she sighs. "Regina. Talk to me, will you? I don't want this to turn to shit just because we can't communicate properly."
"There's nothing to worry about, Emma," Regina says calmly. "I'm handling it."
"You shouldn't have to," Emma counters. "At least not alone. I have just as much blame in all of this, if not more."
"This isn't your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you -"
"If you're going to apologize for telling me to leave, don't," Emma says tersely. "I get why you did it. You were upset and you lashed out. But that doesn't mean you get to keep me out of the loop. What the hell happened with Gold?"
For a moment Emma doesn't think Regina is going to respond. The unsure silence that ensues sets her nerves ablaze and she twiddles her thumbs like a nervous idiot as she waits.
"Nothing's happened," Regina admits. Emma can easily tell she's telling the truth. "That's the problem. Gold has a tendency to... play with people in order to get what he wants."
"And what does he want?"
"To destroy my mother," Regina says wryly. "Petty rivalries aside, I assume he might've contacted her anyway as she hasn't stopped calling me in the last day and a half."
Suddenly Emma feels guilty for misplacing her anger, for assuming that Regina ignoring her has anything to do with Emma at all. In some ways it does, as none of this would be happening if she had just listened to Regina in the first place and kept her hands to herself. But Emma can very well understand the meaning of being someone else's puppet. She'd been manipulated and controlled her entire life, and now it seems like Regina's life isn't so different after all.
"Your mom..." Emma says. "She's a real piece of work, isn't she?"
Regina laughs dryly. "Indeed she is."
"What's going to happen now?"
At that, Regina leans over the desk, her hand hovering just above Emma's with a hesitation that wasn't there before. But then she clasps Emma's hand in hers, thumb brushing gentle circles over Emma's knuckles as Regina offers her a reassuring, albeit strained, smile.
"I can handle Gold, Emma," she assures in a raspy voice, her grip tightening around Emma's hand ever so slightly. "You don't need to worry. I've got this."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
There's a tug on Emma's wrist as Regina silently gestures her to stand, which she does. And suddenly Regina's arms are around her, guiding Emma's face to her neck and holding her tight. It's the kind of hug Emma rarely sees in her life - comforting and intimate and promising all at once. It makes Emma's eyes sting when she returns the embrace and grabs onto Regina like her life depends on it.
"I've got this," Regina repeats softly. Although the words have an entirely different meaning that Emma catches.
I've got you.
The next few days pass by with little to worry about. Emma doesn't hear back from President Gold or any of the school's representatives, and there aren't any rumors spreading across campus that would indicate their secret had gotten out. Which is good, Emma thinks.
Except Regina hasn't been acting like herself following the days before the end of term.
By the end of April Emma quickly catches on that Regina is ignoring her, and no excuse of having her phone turned off or avoiding psycho mothers will make Emma believe otherwise. She's barely seen Regina since that day in the classroom. Any interactions have been limited to small talk after class and the occasional 'how's your day been?' when Emma manages to catch her outside the communications building.
Not once does Emma catch Regina in her office.
Phone calls are short and to the point, but whenever Emma even thinks about scraping the subject about what's going on, Regina quickly veers off topic. That or she designs a scapegoat to end the call sooner than expected.
It's driving Emma insane.
She has no idea what to do, of how to fix whatever it is that caused the gigantic rift between them when just two weeks ago Regina was practically muttering confessions of love. At least before everything went to shit.
She wonders whether it'd be a good idea or completely suicidal to find her answers elsewhere - like in the presence of the school board or Gold himself.
It's suicidal, she knows. But it turns out she doesn't have to decide when one day it all goes straight to hell.
"Hey, Emma. You've got a letter in the mail," Mary Margaret says from the foyer. "I think it's another graduation notice."
"Another one?" Emma frowns and grabs the envelope, smiling in thanks when Mary Margaret simply brushes past her with groceries in hand.
The brunette stops short when she catches the look of horror on Emma's face.
"Em? What's wrong?"
But Emma isn't paying attention. Instead she's rereading the letter in her hand over and over until her hands are shaking and she might as well have it memorized.
Ms. Swan
The Boston University Professional Honors Conduct policy states that:
In order to continue in the program, a student is expected to exhibit behavior appropriate to the profession. The pedagogical relationship between faculty member and student must be protected from influences or activity that can interfere with learning consistent with the goals and ideals of the University. Thus, under the academic supervision of a student, a personal relationship between faculty member and student of a romantic or sexual nature, even if consensual, is prohibited.
Following a thorough analysis of the serious professional conduct brought to my attention, you are hereby informed of your expulsion from the Honors Program and Boston University, effective immediately.
"Emma?"
Emma tears her eyes away in time to see Mary Margaret approaching her slowly, as though approaching a wild animal. That's when she realizes that her hands really are shaking, and she must be as pale as a ghost with the way all her blood had drained from her face.
"Emma, what does it say?"
"I - I -" Emma gasps and crumples the letter in her hand. "I have to go."
"What? Where are you going?"
"To talk to the Dean," Emma mutters numbly as grabs the keys from the rack and nearly tumbles over her own shoes. "I'm borrowing your car."
"Emma!"
She's outside and mindlessly starting up the car, taking the short route back to campus grounds with every intention of setting the whole place on fire if she has to. The fear that had gripped her chest quickly turns to anger as she stalks up the steps to Luptin Hall.
In accordance with ISEC, you have a right to appeal the academic decision to the Academic Dean.
Alexander Gold
Dean, Boston University
Emma's never stepped foot into the President building, but it hardly comes as a concern to her when she bypasses security and stands, brimming with unrestrained fury, outside the President's office. She doesn't bother to knock.
"Mr. Gold, I think you made a mistake. I -" she grits out and stops, holding the crumpled letter between her fingers.
The first thing she sees when she barges in is Gold, sitting behind a grand oak desk and looking awfully amused to see her there. What Emma doesn't expect is to see Regina there, too, seated in one of the two satin covered chairs across the desk.
"Miss Swan, right on time. I've been expecting you," Gold greets her cheerily and motions to the spare chair in front of him. "Please, come in and have a seat."
Emma's stomach churns, her eyes wavering from Gold to Regina who, like the previous days, doesn't make eye contact with her. She tastes bile in her throat as she shuts the door behind her.
"What the hell is going on?" Emma states through clenched teeth. She holds up the letter once more and adds, "What is this? You're expelling me? On my last term?"
"Ah, straight to the point, I see. You would have made a fine addition to the student council," Gold declares with a serene, and terrifyingly eerie, smile. "Regina? Would you like to do the honors?"
"Gold..." Regina says in a warning tone.
Raising his hands up in acquiescence, he stands from his desk and offers, "Very well, then. I'll leave this discussion to you two ladies."
He strides to the door then, his cane thumping against the floor with every step before he turns to Emma and says, "Good day, Miss Swan."
When the door closes behind him, Emma slams down on the words threatening to spew from her mouth and she inhales deeply as she turns to Regina.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Regina hisses at her, and for the first time in many days she's actually looking at Emma, talking to her as though Emma isn't just a wall. "Barging in here like you have any idea what's going on."
Emma blinks, her voice catching somewhere in her throat when her first reaction is to defend herself. But the anger burning in her veins stops her and she's left mimicking Regina's rage.
"What the hell was I thinking?" Emma echoes in disbelief. "In case you didn't hear, I'm being expelled."
"And in case you didn't quite understand the first time, dear, I told you I would handle this," Regina counters. "The letter was sent out three days ago. I've spoken to the council of student affairs. You are still set to receive your diploma in three months' time."
Any tension weighing her down vanishes as quick as it came. "What?" Emma whispers.
"You aren't being expelled, Miss Swan," Regina says in exasperation. "I made sure of that before you nearly destroyed what progress I've made. You would have known if you had simply waited a little longer."
"How?" Emma mutters shakily. "How would I have known, Regina? Tell me. Because it sure seems like for the last two weeks, I've been kept in the dark."
Regina's eyes dart from hers, her lips pursed in a tight frown. "Miss Swan -"
"Emma," Emma interrupts in a trembling voice. "My name. Is Emma. What the fuck, Regina? Why are you doing this? Why have you been avoiding me?"
There's something awfully gutting about the silence that precedes right then. It's thick and heavy and slathered with the type of feelings you only ever experience in nightmares. The realization dawns on Emma so forcefully, she swears she can feel every nightmare she's ever had spiral straight to her gut.
"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"
Finally Regina does look at her, and it's with the sort of conflicted determination that makes Emma want to rip herself away from this room and pretend none of this is happening. She doesn't want to cry. She doesn't want to give Regina the satisfaction of seeing Emma so broken.
But she's already crying.
"Yes," Regina says softly, and she looks a little teary-eyed herself. Or maybe Emma is just imagining it and Regina's actually a cold-hearted bitch.
"It's - it's just temporary, right?" Emma chokes - she actually chokes. "We'll get back together after this is all over?"
"I'm afraid not," Regina murmurs and clears her throat. "Part of the deal I made with Gold is that I leave the school. I'll be moving to Florida in a week's time to work by my mother's side."
"Florida," Emma bites out. "You're moving to Florida."
"Yes."
"Don't do this, Regina," Emma whispers and struggles to clamp down on the emotions coursing through her. Her hands are shaking. "Leave the school, fine. But you can find another job. Please, just... wait for me. We can move to New York like we had planned and -"
"It doesn't work like that, Emma."
"Then make it work!" Emma pleads, desperation lacing her tone. "You aren't your mom's puppet, Regina. You don't have to do this, not for me -"
"I'm not doing this for you, Miss Swan," Regina says harshly. For a brief, solidary second Emma sees her facade break, and Regina's face crumples with the heartbreak Emma feels consuming her soul. But then it's gone, replaced by a mask of indifference.
"I'm doing this for me. I have nothing worthwhile to keep me here and quite frankly, dear, you would only hold me back."
Emma's stomach sinks down to her feet. She utters a broken, "You're lying."
"No. I'm not," Regina says firmly, and Emma's too far gone to care whether it's the truth or not. "I'm sorry if you misinterpreted our relationship. But this... this wasn't meant to last. It was only a matter of time, Emma."
"Please don't leave me," Emma whispers so softly, the words are nearly inaudible. She's on the verge of breaking down, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. She's never felt this vulnerable in her life. Her insides clench and her heart feels heavy and she can't help it. She lets out a sob.
"Please don't..." She trembles as she struggles to find the right words. "I love you."
It's the first time she's ever said those words out loud. She feels like they should hold a much deeper meaning, but they're empty, much like the rest of her. Because Regina's expression doesn't change and Emma's not stupid enough to believe this is all a fairytale.
"I'm sorry, Emma," Regina says somberly. "But I don't -"
"Stop," Emma demands briskly, wiping the tears from her face. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare."
She clenches her fists, the letter in her hand crumpling into a tight ball before she chugs it at Regina's feet.
"Fuck you, Regina," she hisses. "And you know what? Have a great fucking life."
With that, Emma stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door on the way out. It isn't until she's outside, gripping the steering tightly that she finally breaks down and cries.
"Swan."
The glass shatters against the wall, echoing into the empty classroom like an avalanche. It's not long afterward before the second one hits the surface, followed by a third and by that time, Emma's already run out of bottles to throw. She grabs onto a glass vase she finds on the desk and tosses it, watching the broken pieces shatter with sick amusement.
"Swan."
Before she can go for the next item - a box of office supplies that really don't hold the same appeal as glass does, but would have to do for now - a hand grabs at her wrist, gently pulling her from her crazed thoughts long enough to realize she's not alone.
Killian returns her stare with a worried one of his own. She's never seen pity on his face before. She realizes fairly quickly that she hates it.
Snatching her hand away, Emma grits out an angry, "Don't touch me," and proceeds to catapult the box across the room.
"You're drunk," Killian observes, unfazed by the hostility.
"Maybe I am," Emma shrugs, sparing him a withering look. "So what? Just leave me alone."
"And watch you destroy the art room instead?" Killian questions. "I don't think so, love."
A crash. Dumping a tray of pencils to the ground, Emma whirls around and snarls, "Don't call me that."
"And why ever not?"
"Because," she says and tugs her hair in frustration. "Because she called me that once."
She seizes an ink bottle from a table, stares at it for a long moment, knowing better than to break it against the many art pieces scattered around the room. It's one thing to take her anger out on school property. Gold can kiss her ass. But destroying other people's artworks seems like the most asshole way to ever asshole.
"Ah, trouble in paradise, I take it," Killian muses. "Might I ask what happened?"
Placing the ink bottle back on the table, Emma turns to him. "She broke my fucking heart, that's what happened."
"So you're taking it out on innocent walls," he says, eyeing her curiously.
"What else would I be doing?" Emma grits out. "Crying?"
"Or perhaps be the bigger person and go after what you want."
"Who says I want anything to do with her?" Emma says coarsely.
"You do," Killian points out. "With this dramatic method of yours to get over a broken heart. If she's so important to you, then fix it, love."
"I can't."
"Can't? Or won't?"
"I mean I can't," Emma snarls, and shoves aside a chair for the hell of it. "She's gone."
"Gone?"
"Gone to the land of fuck knows where. That's in Florida, by the way."
It's true, whether Emma wants to believe it or not. Several days had passed since that catastrophic moment in the office, in which Emma had mostly spent her time drinking her sorrow away, trying not to think about Regina. But the scene would continue to replay in her thoughts no matter how much she tried to push it away. And with it would come the sharp ache in her chest.
She hadn't seen Regina since that day, having skipped her debate class the following Friday in favor of residing in her bedsheets. But she did see Gold in passing, once as she was walking down the courtyard to the admissions office. His serene, albeit awfully smug smile had sent her emotions sprawling in a fit of rage.
Two days later, she stood in front of Regina's mansion.
The place looked much darker and unwelcoming than she remembered it to be, but it was with the lingering hope that maybe she could change things again. That if she tried hard enough, she could fix them.
"She's not there," one of the neighbors - an elderly man with a golden retriever - had said to her as he was walking by.
Emma could already feel the dread curl up inside when she turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"She left. Yesterday," he informed her. "Packed her things and drove off. Asked if I knew anyone who might want to buy the house. Said there's not a goddamn person within a ten mile radius who could afford it."
Later, when she's picking the lock to the back doors, Emma would wonder what it was that she did wrong. The mansion was empty, just as the old man had said - stripped of anything that was remotely close to personal, not that that there was much to begin with.
The paintings were still there, as were the pots and pans in the kitchen and the giant television in the sitting room that was never used. But Regina's closet was stripped bare, at least of the clothing she wore most often. And the bedsheets were gone, and anything that ever really mattered.
The bedsheets were gone and Emma couldn't bring herself to care when she lay down and cried herself to sleep that night.
The godawful realization brings her back to the present, where three beers later Emma's still wondering how the hell she's even gotten to this point - to the point of being a sniveling, pathetic heap of a mess.
She grabs the last beer bottle in her bag - unopened - and chugs it roughly at the door.
"Swan."
Liquid splatters onto the doorway, seeping in with the broken glass pieces that shatter upon impact. Next goes the chair, and then a metal tray that clashes loudly against the wall.
She's so angry now, the burning hot rage coiling in her stomach like acid. She doesn't notice she's being held back until she physically can't throw things any longer.
"Emma."
"Let go of me," Emma hisses, but the grip is too strong and, suddenly, she realizes she can't do this anymore.
She just can't.
She deflates into the pair of arms holding her in place, her hands snagging onto the fabric of Killian's shirt before her insides break.
And she sobs.
She cries until she doesn't have any tears left to cry with, and even then her body quakes with the pressure of dry sobs. She cries until her mind clears and she sits back as Killian cleans up the mess she's made.
"No worries, Swan," he says. "Things will look up. I always say there's plenty of fish in the sea."
Emma doesn't think so, but she nods anyway. Because really.
She's not stupid enough to believe life is a fairytale.