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It was not the first time the mayor was in the hospital in the dead of night. This was, however, the first time she actually entered the room of the sleeping blonde. Normally she just watched through the glass, glancing frequently at the heart monitor. However, something made her hand grasp the cold knob and slowly open the door that night, praying it wouldn't squeak.
Mahogany eyes grazed over pale skin and golden tresses. Her enemy perplexed and frustrated her to no end. It would have been so easy to just quietly turn off all of the machines, gently pull out the IVs, sit down in the chair and watch her die. Yet, Gold's words hung around her mind like a foggy veil. She wouldn't die. Regina, the feared Queen of the Enchanted Forest couldn't kill the nuisance child of Snow and Charming.
She huffed in irritation. Going into Ms Swan's room was a mistake, but she found she couldn't quite tear herself away. Not just yet, anyhow. She further studied the still body before her. Regina could not deny the physical power of the Savior. Her hand unconsciously rose to feel the tiny lump on her jawbone that lingered after the sheriff's fist had collided soundly with her face.
But there she was, lying there like a corpse; no amount of physical strength could save her. Regina picked up Emma's arm by the wrist and let it fall heavily against the blankets. She reveled in the soft whump the woman's limb made. A small smile painted her lips.
"That's right, Ms Swan, I've won. I will always win, because this is my victory. Not yours. Mine."
The mayor went to repeat the action, but in the dim lighting she accidentally grabbed the icy fingers of her enemy. Her breath hitched when she felt how unnaturally cold her digits were. Instead of pulling her hand away, like all of her instincts were screaming at her to do, she tightened her grip a little bit more.
Suddenly, Emma's fingers noticeably twitched against the mayor's, and there was an abrupt irregularity in the rhythm of the heart monitor. Regina yanked her whole arm away as though it had been burned, her eyes widening in fear. Coming to see the sheriff was definitely a bad decision on her part, a habit that Regina couldn't quite seem to escape from.
A short while later, she found herself in the lounge of her large and startlingly empty mansion. She had placed herself on one of the barstools, slowly nursing a warm scotch. It seemed to be the only thing that could get her restless and irked mind to sleep lately.
Henry's absence was sorely felt, and her heart clenched knowing that her son was not upstairs snoring softly in his sleep. She found that if she didn't dwell on it too much, she could pretend that he was still slumbering away, excited for pancakes when he awoke the next morning. Every time she caught herself indulging in that fantasy, the mayor felt increasingly pathetic.
She was still having trouble cooking portions that were small enough for her. There weren't two mouths to feed, and Graham wasn't even there to fill the space. She was alone and exposed in the void surrounding her. A shiver of loss rippled through the mayor's tense body. She took another long sip of the amber liquid, the scorching burn running down her throat trying to chase the cold away. It didn't work.
Regina rolled over fitfully in her large, empty bed, not yet ready to be awake. She could feel her head aching slightly from too much scotch and, and all of her limbs felt sluggish due to her late-night excursion. She groaned, rubbing her hands over her bleary eyes, trying to find a reason to actually extract herself from her blankets and get to her day.
Regina couldn't find a single one, but she was too proud to give in to her childish self-loathing and apathy. It wasn't long before she found the warm embrace of a hot shower washing away some of her morning grouchiness. She did not want to go to Town Hall and address her mountain of paper work. She did not want to make a run to the liquor store because she drank the last of her only bottle of whiskey. She especially did not want to think of Henry's continued disappearance from her life.
But she had to, because she was Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke, and a proud woman. She allowed her false speech of motivation push her through the morning, but as the day dragged on, her steely resolve slipped further and further away. She pulled her hand away from yet another form that she was sluggishly slashing her signature across and flexed her achy fingers.
An image, no, a sensation blossomed in her mind as she remembered cold fingertips increasing their pressure against her own. She remembered the digital sound of Emma's own heart skipping a beat, and the way her own mirrored that action. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the notion that the sheriff's hand had responded because it was Regina's against hers. It was coincidence.
Yet, she couldn't fight the feeling that relentlessly nagging at every corner of her mind. It felt as though someone was repeatedly poking her in the back of her head, giggling and trying to get her attention. It wasn't long before the woman tired of the little games her mind was playing, and blamed it on lack of sleep.
She decided before leaving work early on grounds of illness that the only way to put this issue to rest would be to got back to Ms Swan's room and hold her hand again. Nothing would happen, and the mayor would leave feeling foolish but relieved.
Regina found herself parked outside of the liquor store, needing to restock on her only sleep aid. She breezed past the Jack Daniels, Wild Turkey and Jim Beam. The mayor had no taste for cheap alcohol, always relishing the finer things in life. After looking at the display of whiskies, she slid a bottle of Balvenie off of the shelf.
"That's a lot of scotch for one woman," came the soft, sly voice of Mr Gold.
Regina whipped around, a mask of loathing already in place. "It's not all for me, Gold."
"Really? I wasn't aware that you entertained much these days, dearie."
"That is none of your business, Gold."
"My apologies, Madame Mayor. It's a shame that the sheriff hasn't awoken yet," he said with an air that one might use when discussing mild gossip. Regina's grip tightened on the bottle in her hands. "You should have seen all your boy was doing to try and find Miss Swan's True Love. It really was quite endearing."
"That's because she does not have one," the mayor snapped through gritted teeth.
"How long are you going to keep telling yourself that, Regina?" He slid a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon off of one of the neighboring wine racks. He smiled at her narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. "Enjoy drinking alone tonight. Again."
With that, he turned and casually limped away, leaving the mayor seething in the spot she found herself rooted to. Her teeth ground uncomfortably hard against each other, and the scotch in her hand felt like it might explode with the raw anger roiling off of her rigid body.
Regina sat in one of her reading chairs, legs tightly crossed, tumbler in one hand and fingers drumming against the armrest in the other. She was staring almost unblinkingly at the clock innocently ticking on the wall opposite her. The hands read 1:57. Its steady rhythm was the only sound in the house, and Regina needed wait only three more minutes before she would set out to the hospital.
Normally the mayor would drive, but she could feel the whiskey blurring her senses around the edges. She would walk that night. Maybe the cold air would help set her mind right anyway. The second hand landed on the 12 as the minute hand slid jauntily up to the little tick that marked the fifty-eighth minute of the hour.
She took another sip of the beverage, counting the seconds as she watched them pass on the clock's face. 16...17...18...19...20... Her fingers drummed a little faster. 22...23...24...25... Her foot twitched impatiently. 27...28...29...30... She drained her glass, wincing from the rough burn. 35...36...37...38... Regina's eyes stung from not blinking. 40...41...42...43... She ceased all movement as she watched the hand skip through the last two segments on the clock. 55...56...57...58...59 The mayor stood up abruptly, abandoning the last minute she thought she would wait for. She deposited her glass in the bar sink and swung her coat around her shoulders.
Regina let the cacophony of crickets crowd her fuzzy brain, silently praising herself for wearing boots instead of her usual stilettos. The mayor was just tipsy enough that she felt ever so slightly unsteady on her feet. Heels would only make that worse.
She plodded quietly down the darkened hospital halls, her cheeks pink from the cold. The brunette was uncomfortably aware of how hard her heart was hammering, and it only got louder as she got closer to Emma's quarters. She had just entered the pale light of the waiting area outside of the tiny room when she noticed someone sitting in one of the chairs. She jumped, startled to see someone else there.
Ruby was sitting outside the room, listening to her iPod and bobbing her head to an invisible beat. Her eyes snapped up to the terrified ones of the woman that strode into the small space.
"Mayor Mills?" Shock and disbelief colored every syllable that tumbled from her red lips. She leapt up and moved in an almost animalistic fashion to stand in front of the door to the sheriff's room. She looked every bit the part of a guard dog. "What are you doing here...Mayor?" she added, trying to be respectful.
"I might ask you the same question," Regina responded shortly.
"I never sleep during the full moon. I'm keeping an eye on Emma." Ruby boldly stepped up in front of the woman before her, slightly invading her personal space. "Looks like I picked a good night to stay late. Come to finish her off, Madame Mayor?"
"You are sorely out of line."
Ruby's unnaturally sharp senses immediately caught the alcohol on the mayor's breath. "Have you been drinking?" she asked with disgust.
Regina drew herself up to her full height, whispering with deadly calm, "If you have any sense of self-preservation, you will make yourself very scarce. Immediately."
Despite her determination to defend her friend, Regina still held more power, more intimidation, and she knew exactly how to use it in as few words as possible. The young woman's eyes widened, backing down like a dog with her tail between her legs. She mumbled a brief apology before scampering off, leaving Regina blissfully alone once more. She smiled at her ability to continue to instill fear in her subjects.
She let herself into the tiny room, hearing the hum of machines and beeping of the monitor once more. Emma still looked the same as the night before. Still, breathing slowly, no emotion on her normally expressive face.
Regina fidgeted with the finger that once bore the ring of her late lover. Her heart was hammering in her throat, and her stomach felt like it was full of squirmy worms. Those were highly unacceptable reactions to a harmless woman lying limp in a hospital bed. She moved her hand forward, biting her lip, hovering her fingers over the sheriff's.
Regina hesitated, frustrating herself more at her own doubt and weakness. She plunged her fingers between Emma's, cringing slightly. They were still painfully cold. Why didn't the nurses tuck her hands under the covers? Wasn't it their job to care for her? Why did she even care if the nurses looked after her properly or not?
She felt it again. This time, Emma's digits didn't just twitch against her own; they fully wrapped themselves up in her hand. Her heart didn't just blip once in skipped beat; her heart rate sped up for a full 20 beats. Regina counted, never parting her captured hand from the Savior's. This was a bad sign.