The air was somewhat biting in it's coldness as she tilted her head up, releasing a thick cloud of smoke and condensation as she exhaled slowly between gently pursed lips, allowing the nicotine to send her into a state of momentarily false relaxation, flicking at the filtered end with her thumb to shake loose any building ash. She could feel the building headache, scowled lightly at the taste of tobacco on her tongue. It was a filthy habit, one she'd been loathe to pick up again but when all else failed her, when her debilitating grief had grown into a rabid anger at the unfairness of the world, when rage had shaken her limbs and had her trembling with the need to do something, anything other than cry, a smoke in the cold air of the city had done it, had managed to subdue her enough until she was able to escape into her own little cloud once more.
Her eyes closed and brow furrowed, head dropping back against age-dirtied red brick, readying herself for a talk she didn't particularly want to have at the sound of the metal bar being pushed inwards, her momentary peace ending with the arrival of the blonde. She'd no doubt heard Regina arriving home, had listened to the sounds of her ragged breathing, fidgeting verging on desperate and recognised the porcelain clang of the flower patterned pot in which the brunette kept her cigarettes, a mantra of 'out of sight, out of mind' completely redundant when she was in a mood such as this. She'd fight the temptation for as long as possible, wore a thin elastic band around her wrist to ward off cravings and the occasional anxiety attacks that seemed to have flared up in earnest recently by snapping the material against her skin, sometimes a little ashamed at the deep red mark that was practically a tattoo due to it's frequent appearances. Cigarettes though, in the end, were easy, were isolated and were enough if only for a moment.
Emma was quiet as she stepped out onto the rooftop, a sharp inhale indicating her coldness, arms folded across her chest as she moved to stand beside Regina, mirroring her leaning position against the brick wall. Regina's tears had long since dried with the brisk morning breeze, the redness tinting her eyes still remained. She could still feel the tightness of her face, the itchiness of dry eyes and the way her skin had become puffy. She'd be blotchy, she'd be almost pitiful in appearance but then, who the hell cared? She most certainly didn't and Emma had seen her looking far worse, if not over the past few months then most definitely at least one point in their friendship.
It was a long moment before either woman spoke, Regina not planning on uttering a single word and Emma simply allowing the brunette a few moments more in order to gather herself ready for conversation, it was a routine they had long since perfected. A cloud of fog left Emma's mouth as she let out an audible exhale, hers less dense than Regina's with the absence of a cigarette, sometimes she'd join her friend if only to be sociable, knowing how much grief the woman got from other friends, but other times she'd be just as judging, her heart in the right place even if the brunette did tune her out now and then in favour of hearing the same old lecture. "School run didn't go so well I take it?" she asked carefully, the wince heard clearly within her tone even as Regina's head tilted to the side, still resting upon the wall, in order to level the blonde with a look that only confirmed her guess.
"You wanna talk about it?"
The brunette heaved a tired sigh as she bent her arm at the elbow, creating a right angle in order to bring her cigarette back up to her dry lips, lips she was sure would crack should she ever manage something resembling a smile. She took a long pull, eyes squinting a little as smoke drifted over to her dark eyes, surprised when they watered, almost sure in her belief that she had no water left in her body whatsoever, especially none left to cry. Her lips pursed as she breathed out through her nose, smoky tendrils leaving her airways in a steady stream before she opened her mouth to reply, last remnants of smoke pushed out with her words. "Do I ever want to talk about it?"
At that, Emma couldn't help but shrug, a lilting of her lips to show her agreement though Regina wasn't looking, she knew though, Emma was her best friend, sometimes no words were needed. The blonde didn't look, simply took the cigarette from between Regina's fingers when the woman's arm rose to her side. She'd smoked it almost to the filter, only a drag left which Emma savoured with held breath, feeling a slight rush due to her complete lack of smoking recently, a good thing she had decided. She stubbed the last bit of flaming ash out on the brick wall before dropping it into the tin pot that had been placed there by their landlord, despite his insistence that residents were not allowed to smoke on the roof.
"I hate the way they look at me," Regina spoke quietly, her head hanging down, eyes watching as the misting rain sprayed upon the leather of her boot, her feet aching a little with the newness of wearing heels again after so long of traipsing around their apartment barefoot or wearing comfy flats to attend her meetings. Upon deciding, this morning, that she was going to bite the bullet and take her son to school, she felt the need to dress as she used to, to pull out dresses unworn since before her husband's death, to slip on heels that had fallen into darkness in the deepest parts of her closet. She hadn't worn make-up for the longest of times, leaving the lines of exhaustion from nights spent crying on display, Emma nor Henry cared how she looked and there was certainly no one in her group she wished to impress, many of the other women just as bare as she for most would leave crying anyway. Best to leave with cheeks splotched red with tears rather than stained with black rivers of mascara but that morning, knowing she was to face the other mothers, the same women she would scoff at for gossiping on the playground like schoolchildren as they saw their kids to school, the women she knew would have been discussing her life the past few months, musing over her disappearance and that of Emma taking her place. She couldn't face them without her mask, without her armour.
"The pity in their eyes," and she makes a gagging sound that has Emma chuckling softly beside her, still marvelling at the fact that humour was beginning to seep back into their household. She had been on tenterhooks, editing everything that came out of her mouth before she spoke but ever so slowly, Regina had begun laughing at her silly jokes again, cracking a smile when Henry would giggle as Emma threw him over her head, racing him around their living room like the fighter jets he'd seen in the children's encyclopaedia that had been handed out to all of the children upon their new term at school. "And I just know, as soon as I see Henry off, as soon as I turn my back, their little vicious tongues are wagging, no doubt commenting on how I'm finally acting like a mother again."
"Regina" Emma began then, tone imploring as it always was when Regina flew into one of her self-deprecating moods. "You were grieving, you still are," she pointed out with wide eyes as she turned to look at the woman still staring down at the ground, "no one can blame you for that."
Dark hair shook as Regina heaved out a deep sigh, frustration almost having her reaching into the pocket of her trench coat and pulling out another Marlborough Light, instead she clenched her fingers and pushed on, Archie's voice filling her mind, encouraging her to open up more, especially to those who'd been her pillars of strength during this time. Emma deserved that much at the very least.
"I had responsibilities Emma," she began, glancing over in time to see the surprise colouring emerald eyes and realising all the more just how much she'd been shutting the woman out recently, something that had shame burning within the pit of her stomach. "He's already lost one parent and I...I let him believe he'd lost me too."
"Regina, it wasn't-"
"I heard him Emma," she interrupted swiftly, her tone hard though lacking in any anger, it was her fault, the blonde had become a kind of second Mom to Henry in her absence, had stepped up when she'd fallen back. "I heard him asking why Momma didn't tuck him in anymore and why I didn't..." she hadn't even felt the lump clawing it's way up her throat, hadn't had the time to supress the sob that came spilling forth from her lips and had her hand shooting up to cover her mouth as her body jerked with the force of the emotion. Fat salted tears burned their way down her cheeks as her eyes squeezed shut, her head falling forward whilst her free arm came up to wrap around her torso in attempts to keep herself from falling apart completely. She was so done with crying, so completely worn out from feeling the same goddamn feelings of despair ripping her apart from the inside out.
"Why you didn't love him anymore?" the blonde supplied with lips pulled down into her own sad frown, she remembered that night, Henry had awoken from another of his nightmares, a common occurrence ever since Daniel's death and, though she doubted the boy knew anything even close to the truth of why his father wasn't coming home, she knew he felt the absence and even more so when his mother had retreated into her own grief. She'd held Henry tightly to her, pacing always seemed to calm him, a hand pressing his head into her neck as she gently shushed him, praying that Regina was still lost within the clutches of the sleeping tablets she'd been prescribed the week before last after she'd almost collapsed from exhaustion. It had been then, when she was almost sure that the boy had fallen asleep in her arms, little hiccoughs still escaping after the strength of his crying, that he'd asked her quite candidly "why doesn't Momma wuv Henwy no more?" and though she'd believed Regina hadn't heard his question...it seemed she had.
"How could I even let it get to that point?" she choked out through a thick sob, a hand coming up to swipe at the liquid mess streaming from both her eyes and nose, completely ignoring the crimson lipstick she was most likely smudging across her face and sleeve in the process, the tears were not abating and each attempt at calming her breathing only had it growing faster in her distress. "He's my baby, he lost Daniel too and I just left him!" and she knew Emma was about to try and soothe her once again, give false reassurances that it was okay, that he knew she loved him really but how could he? He was just a little boy, barely able to comprehend words never mind emotions such as grief, all he knew was that his mother was crying all of the time and didn't want to see him anymore. She threw up a hand before Emma could speak, cutting the woman off as she finally began grounding her emotions, sucking in deep breaths and thinking of the previous night, of the way her son had clung to her, cuddled into her throughout the night and how she had awoken to him peppering kisses all over her face in a way she did whenever he had been upset in the past. It had been their little morning routine and her heart had warmed to find that he had remembered it, warming even more when he'd giggled at the smile that had broken out on her face even before her dark eyes had opened to find him leaning above her.
"I'm sick of crying," she finally whispered when her tears had trickled to a stop, a throbbing pain still evident whenever she swallowed hardening her resolve, "I'm sick of crying, I'm sick of feeling like I'm going to fall apart with the smallest of pushes and I'm tired of being such a crappy mother," she shook her head as she straightened once more, gave a quick glance to the blonde beside her and then back out towards the world in front of her, a lot of the city visible from her vantage point standing on top of the roof. "Henry deserves better than what I've been giving him and I'm going to make sure he gets it."
She knew it wasn't going to be easy, simply stating that she was going to pick herself back up, to stop the tears, stop her dwelling and get back some semblance of a life she once had, a life her son deserved but she still couldn't stop the spike of frustrated anger that shot through her upon waking, a thick cloud of grief still hanging heavily over her.
"It's a process Regina," Archie stated as he came to stand beside her fully, frowning a little as she pulled out another cigarette having only just stubbed the previous one out though he wouldn't comment, had fought the fight with her before and relented upon her statement that whilst the rest of her life was currently set upon a downward spiral, whilst she felt she was still completely out of control of almost every aspect, that he could at least let her have this one vice, the one thing she felt she could control, the click of a button, the light of a flame and a pull of her lips resulting in a small moment of calm. "I know you feel as though you're not progressing but there is no time limit on grief, no time frame for happiness...you will find yours," he laid a hand upon her upper arm, thumb moving the thin sleeve of her charcoal grey cardigan in a line meant to be soothing though she only ever viewed it as condescending, she did not need codling nor treating with kid gloves. "Of that I am sure."
Her eyes are downcast when he leaves, something he has grown accustomed to both with her and with others he has tried to help over the years, each with a different story but most with the same walls thrown up, their trust in the world diminished with the cruel loss of one they loved. He goes with a sad smile and one last rub of her arm, nodding a greeting to another who'd been just as frustrated as she not too long ago, another with a bad smoking habit.
He's not so silent this time when he approaches, she hears the way his boots scuff along the pavement as he moves a little closer to her, hands rummaging within the pockets of his jeans, moving upwards to the one stitched onto the right breast of his shirt before patting the front and back pockets of his jeans once more, huffing a sigh of frustration before moving to walk inside once more, stopped only when her arm lifts, her palm upturned with her own pack of cigarettes in offering for him. "Here."
When he remains quiet for a long moment, she chances a glance up to find him looking sheepish, unsure of whether or not to take what she's freely offering until she gives an impatient jolt of her arm, her eyebrows raised in encouragement and a small, completely subtle smile tugging at the corners of her lips, completely undetectable to any but herself.
He lifts the pack from her hand tentatively, as though waiting for her fist to close and her lips to quirk in a mean smile with a shout of 'psyche'...but she doesn't, only rolls her eyes at his slowness and drops her hand once it's empty. "Thank you," he speaks softly, a guilty laugh lacing his words as his mouth opens to say more, to apologise for having no smokes in the first place perhaps but before he can-
"No worries and," she begins without looking to him though her words are far from unkind, she'd snapped at strangers before, idiots who'd stopped in front of the community centre on other nights when she'd needed a break from meetings, had known nothing about her, tried to sidle up to her all for a free cigarette but with this man, these people, she couldn't. They were a team, a support system sharing stories and trying to hold onto something tangible together. "You owe me one."
She hadn't finished her own cigarette, had stubbed it out on the wall behind her as she'd spoken to him, flashing the smallest of smiles as she passed to show no harm was meant, a laugh rumbling from him indicating that none had been felt. It was the first time, with someone other than her son, Emma and perhaps once or twice Mary Margaret and David, that she hadn't felt heavy in the presence of another, hadn't felt as though she were being watched, judged, observed like some kind of caged animal in a test centre. Perhaps her previous thoughts, her inclination to speak to this man, to learn more about how he'd coped with the loss of his wife, maybe they were worth exploring.
The session had been heavy today, most weeks, with regular attendees, they would work on techniques Archie had perfected over the years. Things like breathing exercises when they felt themselves clogging up, anxiety attacks building and ways in which to clear their minds when things got a little too much but not today, today they'd had a new arrival, a new story, a new tale of heartache.
Michael Tillman was his name, a gentle looking man in his late 30's like herself and a few others, eyes bloodshot and swollen, fingers twitching nervously, shaking as he'd spoken much like many of theirs had been when they'd first shared. They'd listened attentively in their circle, all leaning forward in a show of respect, of welcoming and of encouragement. They'd offered kind smiles when he'd glanced at them, had nodded in agreement when he'd spoken of feeling so lost, of not knowing which way was up and seeing no end to the pain that weighed him down.
Not one child but two, two children lost to him, suspected dead but with no bodies how could he even begin to believe that they were gone? How could he even allow himself to entertain the notion that his kids were gone from his life forever, his babies never coming home to him? That's why he'd been referred to the group, had been advised to seek the company of others who'd been in similar situations to him and were living with a similar pain but learning to cope.
Normally she'd return to her car the instant the session was over, would wait until she could sneak on up to the rooftop in order to have one last cigarette before attempting to sleep, chasing dreams that always seemed to be running from her. Tonight however, when a warm hand had settled upon her bicep, when gentle blue eyes crinkled with a smile had found hers and he'd asked in that, somewhat, charming British accent, whether she'd stay for one last smoke with him, explaining he'd 'popped out' during the break to buy some of his own, the same brand as hers she'd noticed when he'd tipped the open end in her direction, allowing her to slide out a straight with dainty fingers, smirking as he told her that he couldn't leave when he still 'owe'd her one'. So this is how they stood, in the first spot she'd spoken to him, a place she was now beginning to associate with him even though it was hers, even though she'd frequented it since she'd first attended the group, had never seen him there before despite the fact he'd been coming far longer than she.
"Tragic isn't it," he commented softly, sighing with smoke escaping his nostrils as they both watched the new member walking on over to his car, Archie strolling slowly beside him with a palm pressed to his back, whispering words of encouragement in the man's ear though his head remained hung. It was how she'd looked after her first session, she had no doubt, and though she often found her eyes rolling when the red-headed therapist spouted off some of his 'things will get better' shit, the man only meant well and he did care about each and every one of them.
She hummed her agreement, rolling her cigarette between her fingers before flicking at the end with her thumb, shaking loose the gathering ash, watching it roll away on the light breeze before looking up to find his eyes upon her, questioning almost. And she knows what he's thinking for her agreement hadn't been all too strong, she knows it's tragic, can't begin to imagine the pain of losing a child, especially two "but..." and she hadn't realised she'd begun speaking until his head had flicked up ever so slightly, attentive and waiting for her to continue, "I can't help but feel as though maybe..." and she huffed out a dejected sigh, her head beginning to shake and words describing herself as silly ready to be spoken but stopped when he spoke instead, finishing her thought for her.
"Maybe they're not dead?" he asks, eyebrows raised though not in mocking, she finds, confirmed when he continued. "I don't think they are either," he confides, taking a long pull of his own cigarette as he looked out towards the car park, only theirs left, Archie having taken his leave after seeing Michael off, most likely encouraging him to return next week much like he had with every new member. "It may be false hope and I'd never express it to the poor man but...I don't disagree with what he's doing, the beliefs he's being told are wrong." And she can hear how his voice hardens then, his soft English tones sharpening with all the might of a father, "I mean how can someone tell him what to think? How can someone tell him that he shouldn't hope to see his children again?"
And finally she's nodding in complete agreement, is agreeing wholeheartedly as she winces having not noticed how far down her cigarette had gotten to the end, her lips burning a little with the closeness of the heat. She looks over to her left, brushes passed Robin ever so slightly as she goes to drop her stub into the ash bin Archie had had installed a few weeks back. They'd exchanged names a little earlier, both knowing the information already from the sessions but neither having formally introduced themselves. Both found they quite appreciated the other's company, Robin polite yet determined in his own views whilst Regina would either agree or challenge him completely, it was refreshing for both.
"I need to get going," she sighed as she walked back over to him slowly, her eyes having fallen to her watch, surprising her with the realisation that she'd stayed much later than she'd meant to, a little frustrated that she hadn't managed to ask him what she'd wanted to just yet, ask him about his wife, about his son and about his journey through his grief over the passed year.
He looked a little disappointed at her statement, moving to stub out his own cigarette before walking to her side, both moving slowly towards their cars that they'd, somehow, managed to park beside one another's despite arriving at different times. The air was a little brisker than when she'd arrived, seeping through the thin cardigan she'd deemed warm enough in the early evening air yet now regretted with the way her limbs began to tremble ever so slightly, glad that Robin had kept enough distance ensuring their arms weren't touching.
It was as they neared their cars that he opened his mouth to speak, fidgeting with his keys a little as he came to a stop as she did, looking down to his feet whilst inhaling a deep breath, looking up on the exhale with slight apprehension on his face, apprehension that had her shifting nervously where she stood.
"I hope you don't think it would be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee sometime soon?" he asked ever so politely, face creasing as her breath stuttered and caught in her throat, the irregularity of her breathing evident with the fog that had become their breath in the frosty air, heart pounding a strange rhythm whilst her stomach dropped at the thought of being in the presence of another man in any way close to resembling a date. He seemed to sense her distress though, his eyes widening as his hands raised as though in surrender before he began stuttering some kind of apology. "I'm sorry Regina," he breathed, "I should have considered my words better, I only meant so that we may talk more, maybe bring our boys along?" he continued in the hopes that he could pull them back to their previous levels of comfort, "I know it's been hard for me to find the courage to face anyone but his teachers, to socialise at all when the parents of his friends knew my Ma-" and he stopped himself then, just as she always did whenever his name came to falling from her lips, still too painful to speak it, "my wife."
And she finds herself nodding again, breathing out her own apology at reacting so strongly, "yesterday was the first time I managed to take Henry to school since...well, you know" she looked down at her shoes briefly before looking up to find only understanding in his eyes, "I think a little after school interaction could do him good."
He nodded again at that, relief written all over his expression morphing into a warm smile that she couldn't help but mirror as they both backed away to their respective vehicles. "I'm listed," he informed her, "call me whenever you're ready and free," he continued on and she found herself appreciating that he was allowing her the option of calling him in her own time, ever aware that this was not a date and heart lifting with the thought of having someone to talk to who knew exactly what she was going to, who, when they soothed with 'I understand' she did not want to pummel with a strong fist because they didn't understand, but he did. "And my son's name is Roland," he called finally as he began lowering himself into the seat of his car, smiling as she laughed a little at the tidbit of information he needn't have given to her, not when they were going to be meeting in the week.
She gave a quick nod in understanding and raised a hand in thanks before lowering herself into her own seat, fiddling with her seat belt, ensuring her mirrors were in correct position and cranking up the heating, seat heating included, before allowing herself a moment to actually sit back and think of the last few hours, shocked upon realising that for the first time, she was leaving a session feeling a little lighter and the tiniest bit of hope shining through her grey cloud and it was everything to do with a certain British widower. She was going to give her son back the life he deserved and, maybe a little interaction with Robin and his son would do him good...would do them both good.