Okay, I only sort of apologize for the delay this time. This chapter is another one of those crucial moments in the story, and I needed to get it absolutely right. So, for all of you, I took my time. I wasn't sure how to write it, but I think I got it down :] As always, reviews are motivators and let me know where you all are at with the story! Enjoy!
Regina Mills sat in the driver's seat of her Benz. It was sitting in her driveway, and the keys hung limply in the ignition. She wasn't ready to turn them just yet. Her fingers were curled painfully tight around the steering wheel, her palms cold and sweaty. She stared rigidly ahead of her, eyes wide and unmoving, tendons in her neck straining as she struggled to keep her breathing regular, but it was no use.
She took short, irregular pants through her nose, which was stinging as a result of the threat of tears. The muscles in her jaw worked furiously from all of the repetitive clenching, thoroughly irritating the tender gum around her loose tooth. The tension, which rippled through her body and pulled all of her muscles taut like hardened steel, made every ache and every bruise shriek like a scared toddler, but none of that seemed to register in her choked mind.
It was like some sort of blind haze that had taken over her brain late that morning when she finally decided that it was time to pay the blonde a visit. She could barely remember any coherent thoughts taking place as she got herself dressed and ready, her mind almost running on auto-pilot in a very familiar, practiced routine. It wasn't until the snapping of her car door slamming shut that the brunette broke from whatever had taken hold of her mind and body.
The reality of what she was attempting to do crashed with violent abandon around her, and the minutes ticked by. She sat there, stiff as a board but still quivering as violently as if she had a fever's chill. Her breath continued to come in more rapidly uneven breaths, and it was apparent that Regina was fighting a losing battle for control.
Hot tears jumped down her face, ruining the delicate application of mascara and eyeliner that she donned that morning. Wrenching her fingers open, Regina slammed her palms against the steering wheel with a wet grunt of frustration. Her left had feebly tried to soothe the bare, damaged flesh of her throat, but, like any other bruise, it only ached more intensely with the pressure she applied.
Regina's body shook harder with renewed sobs, followed by thick, mucusy coughs. What good could possibly come of seeing Emma? She could hardly handle any thoughts regarding the blonde... What made her think that she wouldn't just shatter into so many pieces she'd be completely irreparable the moment she laid eyes on that infernal woman? Or what if the blonde decided to finish the job once she saw Regina? After all, they would be completely alone near the outskirts of the town. Who would call 911 this time?
Regina coughed wetly again, sloppily wiping away the runnels of tears channeling down her face. So used to the sting in her cheek when touching or moving it too much was she that she didn't even show the slightest hint of discomfort when rubbing her fingers over the swollen flesh. Regina gulped in shuddering gasps of air, clutching her hands at the back of her head, fingers grazing the gash on her temple that still oozed blood semi-regularly. She winced at that slice of pain shooting from the torn skin.
She could sit there for hours, trying to hold herself together, running through the thousands of what-ifs, conjuring hundreds of reasons to flee the car for the safety of the mansion, but Regina had a traitorous mind. It reminded her that most situations got better with space, patience, and time. However, she couldn't fight the nagging suspicion that this simply wasn't one of those cases. The longer she idled, the longer she would stew and fester, the longer Henry's depression would last - and probably deepen. The longer she waited, the longer she remained defeated. Regina Mills hated to lose.
The brunette angrily punched the steering wheel with her fisted hand, and she hissed loudly. Not from any physical discomfort, but in pleasure. She brought her smarting knuckles to her lips, as though reverently kissing the hand of a god. She gave herself that pain. She controlled the application of force. No one else. Emma didn't do that. Rumple didn't. Snow didn't. Cora didn't. That was her own decision, and she relished it, noticing her sobs rapidly ebbing away. The only person whose mercy she was at was herself. Emma didn't control her. Not then, not now, not ever.
Not willing to let this small bubble of confidence go to waste, Regina groped at the ignition for her keys, twisting them until the Benz's engine purred to life. She slammed the vehicle into reverse, knowing that the moment she pressed her foot down on the pedal was the moment she wouldn't be able to turn back. It was time to say hello to Emma Swan.
Regina huffed in irritation as she was jostled around in the seat. The car was barely going 25mph thanks to the dozens of potholes and protruding stones on the narrow, unpaved road she was traveling. If only she had Mr Nolan's truck at the moment; unsightly as it may be, it would've traversed the terrain with ease. She swayed to the side again as the Benz dropped into another pit.
Perhaps it was fortunate that the mayor's temper was quick to flare, and she refused to be thwarted by a road. In all of her irritation, eye-rolling, and concentrating on not having a tire pop off, she was forgetting to be an unholy amount of anxious as she crept toward her quarry. In fact, she was so completely engrossed in the immediate mission of surviving this coarse road that she didn't instantaneously react when the small cabin and yellow bug entered her line of sight.
Brown eyes took a fleeting glance up at the familiar VW parked behind the tiny building before absorbing the road again. Before she had a chance to regain control of her body, Regina felt her eyes snap wide open with terror, both feet slamming on the brakes, her back crashing into the seat, arms locked straight. It was as if she thought she could scoot herself away in a hasty retreat in that moment. The Benz halted promptly, and, once again, tears flooded her eyes.
Regina was hyperventilating again, as she moaned, "No, no, no, no, no..." over and over again into her hands between teary gasps. If she thought leaving the house this morning felt real, it was nothing compared to the dread and horror that was gripping her like iron bands around her constricted chest.
Emma no longer resided in some imaginary hideout, far away from her and Henry. She was there, inside that little shack. She was in a tangible location; one in which Regina now also resided. A few feeble drops of water speckled her windshield, letting her know that the clouded sky had no intentions of teasing either. She was still panting heavily, hands clasped tightly on the lapels of her black blazer, blinking back tears from her already swollen and stinging eyes.
Her legs were still rigidly holding the brake pedal in place as she glanced frequently in her rear-view mirror. She still had the option to turn around. Emma still seemed unaware of her arrival, and Regina could go, leaving the other woman none the wiser. She could leave the blonde to rot, for all she cared. But...Emma might come back, and a whole catastrophic shitstorm would rain down in the middle of her town. Out here... Well, at least the shitstorm can rage in seclusion.
The brunette took a deep breath of air, expelling with it all of the tension holding her body hostage. She finally felt her elbows bend, her arms no longer locked, and her feet lessened the pressure on the pedal, allowing the Benz to inch forward. She parked it next to the bug, killing the engine, but remaining in the car. She needed a few minutes. Tears were still leaking down her face, and her nose was all plugged and runny.
The woman needed to compose herself, and fast. She found her arm groping in the back seat until her fingers closed around her little protector. She dragged his squashy form to her chest, holding him tight, burying the un-bruised side of her face into his soft mane. She couldn't explain this hold he had on her, but like a child seeking comfort during a thunderstorm, Stuffles brought peace to the tempest on the warpath within her. Regina pressed a lingering kiss into the crown of his fuzzy head, inhaling his comforting scent in the process.
It was time. The woman gently set the little lion down in the passenger seat. She swiped the errant tears away, fixing her hair with a quick fluff. She didn't come out there to run away. No, that's what Emma did; she ran and tried to force away her problems. However, Regina was the one problem she couldn't escape. The brunette tentatively opened her door, as if expecting there to be no air outside. Her feet came down onto damp, muddy gravel, and the equally moist air wrapped its chilly fingers around her. She was outside. The only thing left to do was let herself in.
Regina walked quietly around to the front of the cabin. She only knew of this place thanks to the intimate knowledge of her town that came with the Curse, but she'd never personally been. If she didn't know of the woman waiting inside, she might have thought it kind of charming, despite it being basic and somewhat primitive. The overlook on the little lake was something the mayor could definitely appreciate - if she had the time and desire to, of course.
The brunette found herself facing the door, and being a manner-bred lady, she had the briefest inclination to knock. But that would be respectful and playing fair, and it was obvious that Emma abided by neither of those qualities. There was no reason for her to take the high road at this point. The loathsome woman had put the ball in her court with the final words she spoke before running like the coward she was.
Your move.
Regina took a steadying breath, preparing to do just that. She grasped the doorknob, twisting it, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it to be unlocked. The door swung open with an audible creak, and she stood in the entrance, waiting for Emma to see her and react. But that wasn't quite the case.
The first thing to hit the brunette's sensitive nose was the smell; the whole area of the cabin positively reeked of stale booze and fermenting vomit. It was the exact odor that she imagined was permanently ingrained in Leroy's home. The puddles of sick that had so pungently greeted her were all in plain sight, most of them by the shabby little cot that apparently passed as a bed.
Emma was sitting on the floor, directly in front of her, facing the dying fire smoldering in its little fireplace. She could tell that the blonde's knees were drawn up close to her chest, ankles crossed, bare arms wrapped tightly around her shins. The only indication she gave of noticing Regina's arrival was the slight turn of her head to the right. Strange.
Regina took one step into the shack before she was greeted with a raspy voice that didn't sound anything like Emma's usual, cocky drawl. "Ruby. Didn't expect you back so soon. You're quiet. Come to bring more bad news? 'Cause if you have, I don't wanna hear it."
Regina instantly became incensed. Emma's sick of bad news? What gave her the right to feel like she deserved any ounce of reprieve from any of the pain she might be feeling? She's been holed up, on the run, clearly falling deeply into alcoholism. It's all she ever did, and all she ever seemed good for. Running. She's running from her problems, she ran from Regina, from the truth, from Henry, from her whole goddamned life.
The anger that was quickly swelling in her chest felt good, no...great. Anger was something she could handle, and she knew exactly how to wield it to her advantage. Anger was her constant friend, not this pathetic fear she had been feeling over a broken woman. Seeing Emma sitting on the floor, limp hair greasy and tangled, dressed in unwashed clothing, sitting in a vomit-covered hovel made Regina realize one thing: Emma Swan wasn't a threat. Not here. Not this time.
She walked slowly and softly up behind the blonde, crouching down to her level, feeling a wealth of power again for the first time since The Attack. She brought her lips close to the sheriff's ear, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the odor rolling off of the woman. She quickly slipped her mask back into place, preparing to reveal her identity.
"Miss Swan," she purred in the silkiest voice she could possibly muster.
Emma's girlish shriek of terror, leaping ten feet from her skin, and scrambling across the floor until her back hit the wall all came as no surprise to the brunette, who calmly stood, observing Emma with the sneer she usually reserved for the woman.
The Savior's panicked eyes took in her uninvited guest. Regina was standing, hands resting in a relaxed grip on her hips; tall as ever in those bitchy heels she always wore. Her slate-blue blouse tucked neatly into the waist of her crisp, black slacks. Three buttons open, as always. And that was where Emma's eyes were helplessly fixated: Regina's collar.
All the purpled bruises - some now tinged with a yellow-ish green - were almost proudly on display. Emma could make out long slashes of blemished flesh that would match up perfectly with her own slender fingers. She could see two dark, splotchy ovals over Regina's windpipe where she had tried to crush it with her thumbs. Her fists clenched at the memory of undulating muscle and tendons flexing helplessly under her own hands.
Emma's gaze tracked up to Regina's cool expression, taking in the state of her face. Her left cheek was still very visibly swollen, the puffed up skin making Emma's stomach lurch with nausea. It wasn't just that it was swollen that really got the blonde's attention, it was the bruise that covered it as well. In fact, the state of that bruise was, in some ways, even more disturbing to look at than the one's on the brunette's delicate neck.
Having gotten into enough fights and scuffles in her day, Emma knew the charming effect that gravity had on deep hematomas. The blood didn't just stay pooled over Regina's bulging cheek; it traveled. Down. There were long streaks of purpling blood that stretched down her face. She saw the longest of them disappear under her jaw line, and it gave the appearance that the mayor's face was, in some way, melting horrifically. Emma's stomach took another nasty lurch.
She saw the pucker of skin around the black scab prominently adorning Regina's lips, which were lacking their usual saucy slash of red lipstick. It didn't take her much longer afterward to notice that the brunette had her styled locks pulled back from her temple on the left side of her face, a look that Emma instantly knew she'd never seen on the mayor before. Her gaze sought out the ugly abrasion bordering on her hairline, surrounded by a halo of more yellow-green bruising. The gash was rough, and she saw the reddish-brown crusts of dried blood. All Emma could think when seeing it was how it really needed stitches.
"Admiring your work, Sheriff?" Regina continued staring Emma down with that confident, triumphant sneer.
"Oh shit. Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Emma muttered under her breath at a constant rate. Regina's devilish smile only grew.
"Something wrong, dear? I would hate for you to feel in any way put upon." The mayor's simpering, sweet tone should have made Emma angry. It should have made her want to fight back, retort in some way. Instead, the blonde merely felt her blood run cold. Colder than she'd ever felt, even since she woke up with her permanent chill thing. She felt genuine fear for her life. Out here, where no one would come to save her, where no one would hear her screams, where no one could shout at Regina to stop. Out here, alone in the woods with the mayor, Emma felt royally screwed.
If only she had her handcuffs, the blonde thought dismally to herself. Then she'd be able to wrestle Regina to the ground, cuff her, throw her in the back of the bug, dump her in the woods near town, and book it from Storybrooke entirely. Okay, so that was a super shitty plan, but it would have bought her time. She didn't have her cuffs, but she did have...
Emma whipped her pistol out from where she kept it tucked in the back of her jeans, hidden under the hem of her tank. She pointed it directly at Regina, hands shaking, breathing heavily. The brunette cackled softly at the weapon trained on her.
"Going to shoot me, Sheriff? Going to finish the job?" She cocked a challenging eyebrow at her.
"Go away, Regina!" Emma hated the way her voice cracked.
"Or what? What can you possibly do to me that you haven't already done?"
"I can still shoot you!" Her palms were sweaty against the handle, and she was doing a pretty good job of fighting back the tears that were threatening to cloud her vision.
"Can you? Is that how you like to do things, Sheriff? Shooting the dogs while they're down?" Her eyes steadily bore into Emma's, her mouth puckered into more of a look of intensity than a sneer at this point.
"Regina! I am not fucking around right now!" Emma's shout was undermined by the terrified squeak that slipped into the last word. She was losing ground, and fast.
In a flash, Regina was suddenly right in front of her, right in her personal space. Instinctively, Emma's arm bent, solidly planting the pistol underneath the brunette's jaw. Both women could feel the cold metal trembling in the blonde's uncertain grip. Another smirk split across Regina's face when she felt the gun there, while her face lingered inches from the Savior's.
"Prove it. Your move," she whispered into Emma's parted lips.
Hehehehehehehehe you can blame that cliffhanger on my deliciously-evil Beta, Jasmine, whose Tumblr can be found here: obligatory-regal-name. tumblr. com and I can be found at Writers-Dilemma. tumblr. com I love you all, and I should get the followup chapter up sooner than I did with this one! I am also willing to take prompts for one-shots if anyone is interested! PM here or on Tumblr to submit!