A/N: So sorry for the delay, work is slightly murdering me. I'm going to keep trying to stick to schedule, though!
Alone, in that hallway, Emma didn't know what to do.
Whale made a move to go after Regina, but she managed to hold him back until she could no longer see which direction Regina was headed. She didn't have much of a leg to stand on—she didn't have any, to be honest, but she still knew that Regina wouldn't be fooled or comforted by Whale. She knew that, at the very least.
He pouted and whined and petulantly pledged that it didn't matter, he'd still get Regina to go with him before he took off in the other direction, headed to lunch with the rest of the crowd that made their move to disperse soon after Regina's departure.
Emma didn't much feel like eating.
Still she made it to the cafeteria. Silently joining her friends. Angry at them and angry at herself for it, since it was all her fault after all. She thought that if maybe, just maybe, Regina popped down at some point to get something, she could talk to her. Maybe she'd be willing to stay still long enough just to let Emma grovel.
She stared at the doors all period. No one said a word about it. Somehow, they already knew. All attempts to engage her on other subjects were futile. And not wanting to chance incurring her wrath, they soon just let her be, conversation stilted, and Mary Margaret leaving earlier than usual to supervise the prom table.
Emma watched the doors, determined not to notice anything else. Regina didn't come through.
She found her way into her next period class in an almost catatonic state, knowing she had to keep going in order to get to 7th—her next opportunity to try to start to fix this, but when she turned the page in her notebook and accidentally saw Regina Mills, underlined, and in her handwriting from three weeks ago, she could only keep it together just long enough to get to the bathroom.
She bent over the sink, not realizing that anguish could make you nauseous.
But the moment she looked up and saw her own reflection, the tears straining at the edge of her eyes, she could only think of Regina. Of how much worse it had been to see her wear this pain. Of how she had caused it.
She shoved the door of one of the stalls as hard as she could, unsatisfied by the clanging metal.
She needed to scream. She needed to hurt something. But she needed to get back to stats.
Just barely restraining a growl, she pounded her fist against the cool tile, disappointed with how little it hurt. But it would have to do. It had already been too long.
When the bell finally rang for 7th, it took all her restraint not to run out the door. She had to wait. Regina took her time leaving class.
But when enough time had passed, she searched all over. Everywhere in the school she could think of. But Regina was in none of her places—their places, and as she kept looking her heart kept sinking. She had ruined everything.
Regina couldn't even use her safe places because Emma knew about all of them.
Now they weren't safe.
She sank against the wall of the practice room and cried.
Emma would've tracked Regina down at the end of the day but the bus for the track meet was leaving ten minutes after the bell. She didn't have time.
She hadn't seen her once that afternoon, not even in passing. But she wouldn't have found a way to go home. Not Regina.
She just knew how to make herself invisible.
Getting on the bus, Emma went straight for the back. She just barely recognized Red making some excuse for her terrible behavior to their teammates as she stared out the window.
Emma ran the hardest she ever had. Until every part of her ached. But not enough to match how she felt.
She barely managed to turn the corners of her mouth upwards in her winner's photos.
Even Coach was mumbling about what had her so grumpy.
When she came home, the light on the answering machine was flashing. She knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help but hope. Just the tiniest flicker.
She pressed play.
"Emma, it's Tink, please call me, we can fix this. This doesn't have to be the end of things. I'll explain it to her? Just…tell me how you want me to help. I will. We'll fix this."
Beep.
"Emma…if you need to talk about this…I…understand. It doesn't have to be me, but you should. I should've. I wish I could've told you what had happened. I wish you had known. I'm so sorry. I…I'm still here for you, Emma. I'm always here for you."
Beep.
"Ems, talk to me. Please. I've got some of this on me, too. I know that. But we all like her now. She has to know that, right? Just…let's do something. Call me."
Beep.
Apparently Ruby had called first thing after getting home. It didn't matter. None of the calls were the one she so desperately wanted. She deleted the messages and headed up to her room, throwing her stuff down only so she could pace unencumbered.
It was now the weekend, and she couldn't possibly wait two days before somehow talking to Regina. But how could she not?
She couldn't call. Regina would never pick up, not thinking it was for her, and Cora would never make her speak to Emma, no matter the excuses she came up with. She certainly couldn't go to her house. That would just make everything worse. Maybe Gold's office? She would be working tomorrow. Or church? The stables? She wanted to go now. She needed to go now. She couldn't let Regina sit thinking that she didn't mean anything to her. That she wasn't going to do everything in her power to make up for it. The sun had just set. Regina was probably sitting down to dinner right now, but if she could just go over afterwards, maybe throw pebbles at her window?
"Emma?"
She looked up to find Archie peering through her doorway. Apparently she hadn't heard him knock.
He had read her instantly. She couldn't stand under the weight of his concern. She didn't deserve it.
Her dropping to the edge of her bed, however, head in her hands, only made things worse. Archie instantly came to her side, having learned how to best comfort her in their time together.
"Emma, what's wrong?"
She couldn't tell him, but she couldn't not. Not when she had to talk about it. Her day of silence had her practically bursting, and Archie was so good at listening, whether professionally or not, and maybe he could help, but, she couldn't. She couldn't tell him she was such a fuck up. But he just waited for her, patiently. To tell him she wanted him to leave, or to open up. She had to say something. And she had to tell him the truth.
"I—I really messed up, Archie."
He didn't respond, just regarded her with calm concern, content to wait until she was willing to elaborate, the most effective thing he could ever do with her.
"I hurt someone," Emma admitted, pained to even say the words, "someone I really didn't want to."
"One of your friends?" Archie asked after a moment, observing just how tense she was.
"Yeah," Emma managed before returning all her concentration to her hands.
Seeing she might already be regretting this conversation, Archie chanced an observation.
"They're your friends for a reason, Emma. I imagine they want to work things out just as much as you do."
"Not this one—" Emma protested, not willing to allow herself that hope, "I—she thinks our whole friendship was fake. But it isn't!"
Archie fixed her with one of his head tilting looks of analysis, his biggest tell, as if the change in angle could help him decipher just what was wrong with you.
"May I ask…?" He trailed off, wanting her to make the step forward herself.
Even thinking her name had Emma's eyes welling with tears. Still, she let the syllables fall.
"Regina."
"Oh, Emma."
Disappointment. That's all Emma could hear. Utter disappointment. Archie had been tentatively excited for Emma to begin a friendship with Regina when she had explained the reasoning behind her newfound interest in musicals. Tentatively. Like he knew something she didn't and he probably did, because of everyone in town, Archie knew everyone's secrets, whether you saw him or not. He probably knew Regina's story. Or at least a lot more of it than most people even cared about. He knew, and now he was disappointed in her.
At that, she could no longer hold back the tears she had been curbing ever since that moment of weakness in the practice room, but this time, she could barely keep from breaking into sobs.
"I'm—I'm so sorry, Archie! I didn't mean to!" She gasped, trying desperately to hold herself together. "Can I just have until the end of the school year?"
His brow furrowed as he processed her soft request.
"Emma, what—oh, Emma."
His tone was so different this time, but it just caused her to cry all the more.
"You know I don't care you've aged out," he soothed as he placed a hand over hers. "You'll always have a home here. Always.
"Do I wish you hadn't hurt Regina, yes. But so do you. You're allowed to mess up. It doesn't change that you're a part of my family."
Emma somehow managed to regain her breathing, instinctually copying Archie's calm inhalations next to her, but the tears continued to pour down her face. How could he not want to get rid of such a screw up of a human being?
"It isn't really the place," he started quietly, nervously adjusting his glasses, "but you should always know, I would still like to adopt you, if you'd like it."
"Really?" she spluttered.
Emma glanced up to see him nod and smile.
He had offered on her 18th birthday, saying either way she had a place with him, but she had hesitated. She liked her time with Archie, but it didn't seem real, or that he could really want the burden of caring for her. And after all this time of searching for a family, she hadn't known if she wanted to be adopted as an adult. So she put it off, and he didn't push. But now…
"I think I would like that," she spoke softly, sniffling.
She didn't miss the way his eyes lit up even in the face of his concern, and she knew that as much as she couldn't comprehend it, Archie really did want her, even with all of this.
"Good, Emma, that's—I'm so glad," he bumbled, his joy seeping through. "We'll get started as soon as everything opens on Monday. But in the meantime," he transitioned, regaining control of his brain excitedly planning all the steps ahead, "Let's try to work this problem out?"
Emma nodded. She could tell him now.
"Trust is a very hard thing to regain once it's lost, Emma," Archie advised somberly once he had heard her whole story. "But it is possible. You have to start by proving to her that your friendship wasn't a game to you."
"I know, Archie," Emma acknowledged, all the moisture around her eyes long gone, the skin tight in its wake. After sharing everything she just felt so tired, the ache of her soul settling into her bones.
"I want to. I want to tell her everything. I need to. But she doesn't want anything to do with me, and I don't even have a way to see her until next week." Emma paused, feeling a glimmer of something she hadn't felt in what felt like forever.
"But I think I have an idea."
"Regina, get the door, darling."
Regina was infinitely glad for the excuse to leave the table. She loved having Daddy home, but dinners, when everyone was together? Somehow it was even more tense. And when she was already barely holding on, hoping more than anything that neither of her parents would pick up on it? She couldn't be more grateful for whoever this was at the door. As soon as she either dismissed them or lead them to her parents, she could clear the table and retreat to her room. Where, who knows, maybe she would beat her pillow or cry silently or just stare at her ceiling. But she could be alone.
She ran a hand over her hair, though not a strand was out of place—Mother would pick up on something like that. She just had to keep the mask on for a few minutes longer. Ill-fitting though it was after her time with Emma, it was rapidly becoming easier.
Opening the door, she was greeted with a head of blond hair. But it wasn't the one she had half been expecting.
"Good evening, Regina. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Victor Whale. With flowers?
It took all Regina had not to slam the door in his face.
"What are you doing here?"
Though Whale was slightly taken aback by her harshness, he recovered quickly.
"I just wanted to talk to you, Regina, I know that today was very difficult. I thought you could use a friend."
"We're not friends."
"We could be," he plied undeterred, putting on his best charismatic smile.
"Regina, dear," She heard Cora call—apparently she had spent too much time without reporting back. "Who is at the door? Cora finished as she appeared into the hall.
Regina took a deep breath and turned to meet her mother's gaze.
"Victor Whale, Mother."
The spark in Cora's eyes worried Regina more than anything else that evening.
"Victor! Doctor Whale's younger boy, correct?" Victor smiled and nodded appropriately. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Whale was entirely in his element, charming those above him.
"Well, Ms. Mills, I am so sorry to interrupt your evening, but I was wondering if I might have your permission to take Regina to our senior prom."
Regina was no longer convinced that this was happening. It was altogether too absurd.
"Oh, Victor, how sweet!" Cora cooed. "Yes, of course you may take her. She would love to go with you."
Regina couldn't breathe.
"Would you, Regina?" He handed her the flowers.
She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, her intensity in attending her answer.
Her mask was no longer ill-fitting. It was her only solution.
"Yes."