Emma was gone.
Regina knew it was a fact, but she still couldn't believe it. Everything in the house was as it should be. Showroom ready, clean, and wanting an occupant. It was …
It was empty, she thought. Regina felt helpless as she walked quickly through the small house, searching the rooms. Thrusting open the closet, she knew it would be empty. The same with the dresser and the nightstands.
With increasing pressure in her chest she continued to search for any sign of Emma. Any sign she would be returning to the little house. To her job. To Regina.
Emma had left her.
The only thing that had held any reminders of Emma was the desk in the small extra bedroom. It was covered in post-it notes and reminders in the blonde's looping scrawl. The laptop Regina had provided for her was still plugged into the surge protector. It had gone into sleep mode.
There on the screen was a note to her. Emma had known Regina so well, known just what her reaction would be and where she would look. Where any artist who creates with words would look – the computer.
Regina –
I love you. I can't do this anymore. No big scenes. No uncomfortable goodbyes. Just ... I love you.
E
It may as well have been written on a fucking post-it note, Regina thought. Emma had left after she had crossed the line. Hell, who was she kidding? They had both jumped over that fucking line, then kicked dirt over it. Several times. But Regina had been glad to do it. The follow-through was shit, but she was glad about what had happened between them. If she felt that way, why would Emma leave?
Regina ran through it in her mind, starting at the beginning of the evening. She had followed Emma. Regina didn't know why, exactly. Well, of course she did know why. Because she was concerned for her friend, who was going to be in a dodgy part of town, alone, well into the night. Knowing she had a penchant for walking because it gave her time to fall into her thoughts for awhile, Regina knew Emma would be endangering herself without meaning to.
It had only seemed natural to jump in her car and head toward the venue downtown where Emma had said her cousin Belle's band would be playing for one night only. Regina had parked and waited for Emma to emerge, watching from the dark as she walked toward the nearest bus stop. For awhile, she admired the sway of Emma's hips under the buzzing lights of the streetlamps. Then, as the blonde started to disappear from view, Regina put the car in gear and approached her for a ride.
Emma had accepted. Gratefully? It had seemed so, but she had been distracted. Emma was never distracted. If anything, the Emma that Regina knew was always of a single mind, always driven by a purpose. Tonight, she appeared torn, as if thinking was doing no good. She even avoided eye contact with her employer, her friend.
At the house, she took Emma by the hand and helped her from the car. Shit, in any other century and any other realm that would have been downright chivalric, Regina thought. But then The Kiss happened, and somehow it all had gone to hell. Emma had been magnificent. It had been the hottest, sweetest, most amazing kiss Regina had ever been a part of, and that was the truth. But then …
But then … damn. But then she had apologized, Regina remembered. She had apologized to Emma for The Kiss - which had taken on such importance that Regina capitalized it in her mind - even as her hands were still roaming Emma's warm, shapely, needy body. Emma's liquid green eyes had cleared, her arms pulled away from Regina and she had slipped away like running water through her fingers.
Suddenly, it had been over and Emma was gone. It wasn't what Regina had wanted. She didn't know why she had apologized, it had just come out. Maybe because she was sorry to complicate their relationship? She was sorry to make working for her awkward when it had been so natural before? Or perhaps Regina was sorry that, while she wanted to take her inside and fuck her brains out, she couldn't help but think it wasn't the right time?
Regina was sorry for a mixture of those things, she told herself. Regina sighed and read the note again. I love you, it said. I can't do this anymore.
Do what? We had one kiss. The Kiss to end all kisses. Regina knew she wanted more, but also that it was time to let her go. She was a moody writer who was difficult to live with at the best of times, and Emma was her sweet PA that put up with all her flamboyant and demanding shit.
It was obvious. They would never fit quite right together.
But who was she kidding? Regina knew what the "this" was in the note. The teasing, the almost loving, the almost relationship they had going. Regina had relationships before. Awful ones. She didn't want what happened in those to happen to what he had with Emma. She wanted Emma to always be there and to be there for her. She couldn't imagine her life without her - and not just her skills as a PA, but her. Her scent, the way she moved, the way she had of keeping Regina on task, the gentle brushes across her shoulders as she worked. It was as if Emma needed to touch Regina, to touch base. It was silently encouraging, especially when the writing was difficult. Regina loved her for it.
And Regina had said I'm sorry.
What the hell? She was thinking about a future with Emma? Perhaps Emma had made the best decision, after all. Regina wasn't good at relationships, and that's why she didn't want one. Even now, with Emma. Sweet Emma.
Oh, but she'd like to have sex with her. Even now. Even after Emma left her in the lurch in so many ways by sneaking out in the literal dead of night, Regina would still have her in her bed underneath her. Over her. On their sides. Over the side of the couch. On her desk.
Damn, Regina thought. She needed to stop this. It was done, and Emma had made the best decision for herself. Regina had made the wrong one, though. It didn't mean it was painless for her, though. But there was one thing Emma didn't know.
Regina wasn't sorry for The Kiss at all. How could she be? It was the closest she had ever been to completion, to joining her soul to that of another. And now Emma was gone, had been for hours. If she left right after their encounter, that meant she had been gone for about eight hours.
To Regina, it may as well have been a hundred years.
A year ago …
Regina Mills hated parties. She despised having to mingle and make small talk with those who, otherwise, she would have nothing in common with. No, there was no way she would have entered the flotsam if not for the requirement set by her publisher to attend such events.
But that didn't mean she had to watch a girl get mauled by the drunken stepson of the publishing house's CEO. The girl was in trouble, that much was evident.
Truthfully, she had been watching the young woman since arriving at the soiree. The girl had to be someone's assistant or an intern or something, she seemed too – pure, for lack of a better word – to be an agent or editor. Maybe she was a line editor, but whatever. It made no difference. There was no reason for the abuse she was being forced to endure, Regina thought.
Regina saw the smarmy man's hands swerve against the younger woman's slim frame, one delving into the mass of golden blonde hair and the other squeezing her ass. That was it, she thought to himself. Slamming her glass of whiskey onto the nearest table with a thwak, Regina made her way across the room to the French doors. There, the woman was attempting to fend off the increasingly adamant moves of the scumbag while maintaining the decorum such an important industry event demanded.
The girl must really need this job, Regina thought. Grabbing the guy's lapel, Regina spun him around and knuckle-punched him in the throat. She couldn't help but grin as the guy choked and spat, grabbing at his neck with both hands – which, Regina was satisfied, were now off the young woman.
The young woman stood there, shocked. But still, she was glad someone had stepped in when she had frozen. Killian Jones had deserved more than a punch to the throat, she was only saddened it hadn't been at her hand. No matter, what's done is done. And one thing that was inescapably done was her job with Jones Paper Co. Well, here is my pink slip. Might as well grab a few snacks and split, Emma thought to herself. You don't cause the son of the CEP to be punched in the throat and keep your unpaid internship. A passing waiter had been stunned into stillness, tray full of snacks and champagne. Emma snagged the tray and lifted a glass to Regina.
"Well, thank you, Ms. Whoever You Are," she said, tossing back the wine as she walked toward the foyer with a false confidence only Regina saw through.
Emma had underestimated the possibilities laid out before her upon leaving Regina Mills's employ. After leaving Regina's compound, Emma went to her cousin's apartment where she was ordered to set up camp in a spare bedroom, throw on some comfy clothes and settle down for an ice cream feast.
It was just what she needed.
She hadn't seen Belle in more than a month, as Regina's schedule had them traveling most of that time. Emma spilled everything out as she dug for brownie pieces in the Ben & Jerry's pint that had tried to put up a good fight. Though Emma had known she would never see Regina again, she kept glancing at her mobile phone. If it had been a tiff between lovers, surely they would have been busy repairing the relationship.
"You keep looking at that phone like it's supposed to ring," Belle said quietly, her accent lilting across the sofa. She was curled up on the couch, spooning some Chunky Monkey into her mouth. An episode of "Orange is the New Black" played in the background.
Emma shrugged. "It's just a bad habit."
"Well, it's one you're going to have to break, Emma, if this is what you really want."
Emma nodded, adding a "hmmm" to make her compliance seem more convincing. She knew Belle was right. And, after all, she had left with the intention of making her absence from Regina's life permanent. And no matter how many times she looked at that damn phone, it still told the same story.
Regina was apparently unaffected by her absence. She was probably interviewing for a new personal assistant right at that very moment. Bitch.
Well, that might be a bit harsh. Emma was sure she was affected insomuch as she had to write her own emails, schedule her own meetings and such. But any office temp could do those things, she would just have to call and hire someone.
But it's not harsh, Emma told herself. It was nothing like that. In fact, it was the opposite of that, and Regina was likely glad to see the back of her. It was a relief that Emma had finally made the decision to end it … whatever it was … between them. Someone had ripped the bandage off, and now it would scab over and heal. Good as new.
Well, almost. That's how these things worked, right? Live to love another day? Emma knew she would have a scar from the experience. She only hoped it would be smaller than the original wound.
Mostly, Emma was tired. The carb coma from the ice cream was beginning to hit, and she crawled into bed late in the afternoon. Sleep was a good respite from choking back the tears of sorrow and regret. Emma had finally killed whatever relationship she had with Regina. She could move on.
Perhaps it should have a funeral, Emma thought to herself as consciousness ebbed away.