Nerves raced through my veins like strikes of lightening on a stormy night; my palms wrapped tightly around the metal tray, trembling terribly just at the sheer thought of facing Regina, again. I, Emma Swan wasn't one to get nervous - but when it came to the Mayor and her complex personality, I was as jittery as they came. You could push a man at the brink of death through those doors and into my arms, and I wouldn't bat an eye. I'd know fully well that I could save this person, and take them back home to their family in perfect condition. But, god help me as soon as a perfectly normal brunette was rolled past those glass doors, I turned into a child lost in a department store.
There wasn't one nurse in sight, as I strolled down the echoing halls anxiously. I thanked every star in the night sky for that, knowing that if I crossed someone's path I would purposely get caught up in conversation with them - sooner or later chickening out on the fact that I had to go see Regina. I was being a wimp, and I mentally scolded myself for it. Ever since yesterday after I had finally worked up the courage to tell her about the boy, she was... different. No, not different - she was sad. I expected some form of grief, but I didn't anticipate for it to be this severe. She refused anymore game time, and lied in bed for hours before she finally dozed off. This morning she dismissed the breakfast I had brought to her, and barely even laid eyes on it.
After two months of getting to know this woman, and figuring out how she feels and why - it was overwhelming seeing how hard this hit her. She felt things deeply, I knew that - but I guess it wasn't until now, that I realized just how deeply. I guess I had just taken the spoken words not so seriously, and an act of over exaggeration. But now I knew, and figured out the hard way. I hated that I was unable to be there, and wrap my arms around her in a calming embrace. But whenever I tried to talk to her, she'd be in a daze and become completely oblivious to the words I had been expressing. So I've been trying to keep my distance, and within only a few hours of being away - I needed a reason to go back.
And that was doing what I always did anyway. Bring her lunch.
The hospital didn't have too much to choose from, which always came off as odd to me. If we were to keep hundreds of people confined to a space for an extended period of time, why couldn't we conjure up something that could sooth her appetite wholly. I guess, that's what the vending machines were for - considering the snacks behind that glass were more fulling than the ones behind the counters.
Anyway, the only fulfilling foods I could find wouldn't do as much as satisfy Regina's stomach in the least bit. On top of that, I'd have to fight my way through her protective wall of healthy choices, and nutritious treats. Or maybe, she just liked to pick on me and my obsession with vending snacks. Whatever it was, she'd have to suck it up and be joyous over a dry salad, applesauce, a banana and some ice water for now. It was the best I could do. Especially since my nervous were going haywire, and if I stayed in that crowded cafeteria for any longer I would've lost my head.
My eyes caught sight of Regina's closed door, and inhaled an overly large breath before proceeding. I did a quick sweep across the numbers bolted into the painted wood. One hundred and eight, all buffed and polished for no reason at all. Other than for the looks, which still boggled my mind. Why would anybody that is trying to visit their injured or possibly passed family member, pay attention to a couple of shiny numbers?
Hm. I was just probably overthinking it - just like I always did.
I adjusted the cold metal tray to be placed right above my hip, so I could free one hand to locate a grip on the door knob. I had done it many times before, so there was nothing challenging about balancing a large platter on my hip bone. But something changed, and for some odd reason the hardest part this time - was opening the door. I didn't want to swing that chunk of wood open, and see a moping Regina sobbing silently in her bed. I didn't want to see her shoulders heaving up and down, and her glossy eyes finding me at her doorway, as she tried to cover up the tears; and hastily wipe them away with the back of her hand.
And she probably didn't want to see me either.
I swallowed my worry, and said 'fuck it.' My jittery palm squeezed the knob even tighter, as if it would wash away all of my anxiety and the skittish thoughts passing through my mind. But news flash, it didn't. In fact, I believe it made it worse, and I practically had to tear my immovable feet from the waxed floors. I settled to twisting the knob slowly, but gave up the idea to the thought that, it might of been a bit odd to anybody passing by if they saw a hunched over Swan, looking a bit too suspicious over turning a handle.
I resolved my many dilemmas and gave myself no time to think, by whirling the knob to the right and releasing the door from it's closed grip. I felt my body lean against the now, weightless, door but refused to let it swing open with sudden urgency. Instead, I gradually pushed it ajar - the suspenseful state of the room behind it eating me alive.
Once the door was completely gaping open for my entrance, I squeezed myself and the tray through the frame and into the small cozy room. Well, you could call it cozy - but to Regina it was probably more like a prison cell she was confined to. Along with.. a friendly doctor who - I'm assuming, she hated more than her false guilt right now. The platter was slowly slipping from my grasp, so I took that as a hint to retract my other palm from the handle and back onto the utterly cold surface of metal.
I felt the urgency in my eyes, as they were trying to pry themselves from the floor and search for the one woman I came here for. But before I could let them wander, I slowly turned and closed the ajar door. The soft click of the knob as I let it turn back into place gave me the realization that sooner or later, I had to look. I didn't pick up any muffled sobs, or shuffling sheets in the whole thirty seconds I had been in the room. So I took that as a good enough reason to suck it up, and lie my eyes on the woman under the heap of blankets.
My body turned back around, my eyes locked on the meal in my hands. Why was I so nervous about something so simple? I was being a doctor, it was my job to take care of people, and now I couldn't even seem to get that right anymore. How many other effects would take place that Regina seemed to cast on me unknowingly? There was already a list, and it was becoming more like a novel now. A beautifully wonderful novel, that I wouldn't mind becoming a full fledged dictionary.
What in the hell was I saying. Dammit, Emma - look up!
My lungs began to shrivel up from lack of air, as I had been holding my breath ever since the large inhale in the hall. I released the muggy air, and lifted my heavy head. My eyes were closed shut now, and I felt my ponytail becoming looser.
You have to open them sooner or later, Emma.
I filled my mind with persistent thoughts, trying to pull myself from the shadows I was caught up in. I was Emma Swan, I was tough and powerful - and I didn't giggle over Disney movies. Shit, that was a lie. Okay, I did giggle over silly movies and act like a child... most of the time. Sometimes I even played damn board games like it was an Olympic sport.
But there was no way in hell, that I was going to let this little problem topple over me and make me cower in my own skin. I was going to look up, and see a snoozing Regina who had every right to be upset - and had no reason to look at me and be angry. Or, maybe she did - but that wouldn't matter. Because sooner or later, she'd finally lay her sunset filled eyes on me again, and see the person who had taken care of her for weeks on end. I was her savior here, and her friend. Not even some shitty news could change that.
A loose strand of blonde hair fell over my eyes, and tickled my nose. Wedging itself between a couple of my eyelashes. Just do it already, Swan.
And I did. The dim lighting that poured from the ceiling engulfed my vision, stunning my fragile eyes for the slightest moment, before releasing my eyesight from captivity. The heap of blankets slowly turned into a woman just under a couple covers - her dark hair sprawled out and falling over the piercing white sheets like wildfire. It was good to know that she had finally figured out a way to sleep comfortably with that pesky torso cast that was still embraced around her chest. For the first few weeks she complained non-stop, trying to guilt trip me into cutting it off - and for the first time I didn't fall for her pleading eyes. I gave myself a mental trophy for that one. But she didn't seem to find it amusing, no matter how many cringy jokes I made about it.
Her back faced me, and I could feel my hands beginning to sweat, and slip from the handles of the tray. My frozen feet started trudging quietly to her bedside, a soft shuffling of clothing following after. Scrubs weren't the best choice of apparel for sneaking, but it was my only alternative. If I could run away to the bathrooms and change into some pajamas, that'd be one hell of a job, but doctors had to be professional twenty four seven. How ironic was it, that I was a complete polar opposite to my job - yet I'm still pretty good at it?
As I came closer to her bedside, my peripheral vision could now trace out the side of her face. That was when I realized the subtle lashes that were fanning up and down in blinks. I felt my chest go ice cold, and my heart race a million beats per second. But it was too late to turn back, and return the sweat covered platter back to the kitchen. So, I endured my embarrassment and timid actions - giving into the gloom mood that was radiating from the brunette.
"Hey Gina," my voice piped up like a schoolgirl talking to her football playing crush, "I..I brought you lunch. Thought you might be hungry?" I rose my shoulders for a prolonged period of time, waiting for a groggy reply back. But nothing came, just as I expected. "Regina, c'mon. I know you're awake, I can see you grinding your teeth." I sighed, watching her jaw maneuver side to side.
I placed the metal dish on the nearest table, and folded my arms across my chest. That was when she decided to speak.
"I'm not hungry, Swan."
"Really? Swan?" I furrowed my brow, my palms squeezing my biceps in irritation, "Scoot." I was fed up with the silence, and purposeful avoiding. If she wanted to push me away, she had to do much better than snarky nicknames and false sleeping. I watched her muscles relax, and her arms and legs move - grasping onto the sheets underneath her. She pulled herself to the side, and gave me just enough space for butt room. I took it, and plopped gently down onto the silky smooth covers. She stayed facing the wall, one arm wrapped under her pillow and the other resting on her elevated side. No matter how angry she was at me, she always softened up just a tad enough for me to get my way. I still wondered why I was so skittish in the first place, look at me now. I was practically sharing a bed with the hard-ass.
I turned my head, to look slightly over my shoulder. Her jaw was still grinding away, and making my skin crawl with goosebumps.
"Stop. Grating your teeth away isn't going to help anything, Regina." I spoke softly, not wanting to get propelled from the bed faster than I got on it. Her jaw stopped, and I felt an eye roll coming along, but she held it back with difficulty. My eyes trailed down the lifted sheets, finding the two lumps that were her feet. Her cast still prominent, even through the the sewn cotton.
"You have to eat."
"Why?" Her tone was low, and I could feel the miserable feelings bubbling from inside of her and releasing themselves to the thin air around us.
I rose a brow, looking down on the half of her face that I could see, "Is that even supposed to be a question?" I was beginning to get defensive, and felt as her body tensed up. But nonetheless, she was always ready for an unexpected statement.
"I guess not." She sighed heavily, and relaxed once more into the plush mattress. I wanted to bring up Henry, but in my eyes - that was cruel. Why bring up one person who you miss dearly, while you're currently grieving about another that you never even knew? I might of been an impatient, irritated mess at the moment - but I wasn't brutal.
Silence overcame us, and built a wall between our bodies. I scanned over every little detail I could find in that damned room, before the ticking of the clock reached my ears. I watched the longest hand go around at least fifteen times, and possibly more. I wanted to rip my hair out once it crossed the twelve for the tenth time, but filled my lungs with the thick air instead. It was something I learned to do a long time ago. Whenever I was overly angry, or irked worse than a shark in deep water - I wanted to scream, yell and kick everything in my path.
But when I realized it was wrong, and freaked out in the middle of class one day - I created my own personal calming system. Something simple, and as noticeable as a fly entering a room. Just an inhale, and an exhale. It might not of been as personal as I made it out to be, considering thousands of people across the globe probably did the same exercise. But, it helped. It really did.
Just a mere few ticks after the hand shot past the twelve a fifteenth time, I felt movement. It took me by complete and utter surprise, delaying my reaction time by at least five seconds before I finally decided to turn my head. A scene, conveying of a dark haired brunette and shuffling sheets was unveiled before me. She was turning her fatigued body towards me, making me question my sanity for the millionth time today. My brow knit together, as I sat and watched her find a comfortable spot on her side - now facing me fully. I could trace the tear stains that trailed down her cheeks, but she refused to even glimpse up at me. I let it be, and leaned carefully back so my head could rest against the back boarding of the creaky bed.
My eyes were unable to pry themselves from her closed eyes and rested face. She must of felt my gaze, because she immediately scooted closer to my hip - making sure the only thing I could see was her silky dark hair.
Regina was practically curled up to my side, yearning for an embrace or some form of comfort. I could feel it, the desire in her chest beaming and reaching out to me - but I was unable to act upon it. Her fingers wrapped around the loose and unraveled sections of linen, grasping them tightly in her fist and pulling herself closer until her head was resting just above my hip bone.
My lips parted, and I rose my palm - placing it gently at the crown of her tender head. I didn't feel her shudder, or react to my touch negatively - giving me the okay, and that she wasn't throwing me off of this bed anytime soon. I massaged my fingers throughout her scalp, and ran my hands through her hair; her sleek locks soft to the touch. I tried anyway possible, to sooth her tense muscles and clenched teeth. But I was never the best at comforting, so this was new. But it was a good kind of new, which was strange to me. I never experienced a 'good' kind of new before.
Nevertheless I accepted this new. Because it had to do with Regina, and her body curled next to mine. Which was a new I never expected in a lifetime.
I was the type of kid do go to a high school football game, and get bored. No matter how hard I tried growing up, sports were never my 'thing' so to speak. You could blame it on my uninteresting personality and obsession with doing other productive work instead, but I never saw a point to throwing a ball around and scoring with a goalie, hoop, touchdown - whatever. Or, maybe I was just jealous. I wasn't sporty, I could admit that. But since I've never even tried a sport besides boy scouts, if that even counts, I have never practiced and obtained the skills I always wanted and saw on TV. Such as the men running down a field faster than a car, and risking their heads just to get an odd shaped ball into a large rectangle of fake grass.
If you couldn't point out my obvious sarcasm, and prominent jealously, I really didn't find an interest in sports. Mostly because I didn't know how to be good at them. August on the other hand, well, his entire mental capacity had so much knowledge about sports, you'd think he was lying to me about being a fairy tale character.
But it wasn't until the man came knocking on my door with a football in hand, that I began to question his sanity for good. His ear to ear grin, and distinct excitement was something I normally would've rolled my eyes at. But I relished in the fact that he was finally speaking to me again. So, I let him in and oddly he decided that throwing a large ball in the house would've been better than outside. I tried to object, and explain how important it was to keep everything as perfect and neat as possible - but he just chuckled and implied, 'you've gotta have fun for once, kid.'
I had tons of fun on my own, so I didn't see any reasoning to his statement. Other than... well, maybe I didn't have that much fun most of the time - but I could recall many moments. Maybe he was inferring about the time span that my mom's been gone. In that case, he was right. I didn't think there was any time to sit and play around. Considering my nose was stuck in that book ever since my palms made contact with its hard back covering.
"He's super creepy," my fragile hands latched onto the spiraling ball barreling towards me. I juggled it in my palms, before finally finding a good enough grip to pass it back.
"You should've known him before," August chuckled, and shook his head - catching the ball swiftly, "his head was so far gone it might as well of been off of his shoulders."
"Before?" I questioned, stepping a few paces to the right. I was trying my best to position myself away from all of the delicate pieces of glass 'art' my mother had arranged all around the house. It wasn't as easy as you may of thought, considering there was at least one, every few steps you took.
"Before fairy tale characters learned how to banish themselves into the real world," he shrugged, giving an urged eye roll.
I watched Augusts' arm rise and lock backwards, readying to launch the ball to me. I opened my palms, and watched the spiraling terror of leather come towards me and land gracefully in my hands.
"See, look - you're a natural." I looked up and saw a wide smile spreading on Augusts' face. I couldn't help but flash one back, the muscles in my face to weak to hold it back. A small giggle escaped my throat, and I positioned the ball in my hands once more - tossing it back to the bearded man.
"I wonder why he came here in the first place," I questioned, wanting to expel that dwelling thought that had been lingering for over a day now. My eyes darted between the football and Augusts' blue eyes. I was expecting an immediate, sarcastic remark back - but nothing came. His lips were sealed.
I furrowed my brow, and caught the next silent toss with ease, "You know something, don't you?" I lifted my chin, as if it made me appear larger.
I was waiting for him to cower under my statement, and begin to mutter his reasoning about the strange man. But no grumbling came, he only swallowed his silence and opened his palms, readying himself for the toss of the ball that I wasn't sure I was going to throw just yet. I rose my brow, trying to usher anything from him that I possibly could. But his stubbornness set in, and his lips didn't even dare to part and expel a small breath. The fear of saying something that he would've regretted washing her his face and taking over every inch of emotion that was there only a few seconds ago.
"August, c'mon," I pleaded like a five year old, stomping one foot on the ground. It seemed to be that I had to pull that childish card every time I needed something from someone. It was never as simple as asking, and immediately receiving anymore. "Why are there so many secrets that you need to hide?" My frail fingers gripped tightly around the ball, the leather barely caving under my grasp. My eyes darted back and forth between his, searching for any revealing response that I could feed off of.
But he kept his palms open, and the gears in his mind turning furiously to come up with a reason or a way out from the question. My lungs expanded, and I was unable to contain an over-dramatic roll of my eyes, "Whatever." I exhaled, tossing the ball half-heartily back to the hushed man. I saw a flicker of light in his blue eyes, as he came back into reality for the first time in twenty minutes. I shook my head, vexation flowing through my veins like my own blood flow; smoke practically pouring from my ears.
I began to trudge away like an angry three year old, who didn't get the toy he wanted at the store; not knowing where he was actually going to head. So instead of me walking out of my own house, with no explanation at all, I wanted to state my reasoning - the exact opposite of what August was supposed to do in the moments I had asked for an answer.
"I'm going to Granny's."
Just as I had expected, I wasn't going to step foot out of that front door. The farthest that my feet carried me was to the top of the few stairs that led to the large, painted piece of wood, before I heard the shuffling of clothing and a deep inhale.
"I have good intentions, Henry. I swear." There he was. The man who believed in me so much, that he couldn't even let me walk away without an explanation to his madness. I hadn't seen that man for a while, or ever since Mr. Gold confronted him. He was quiet, and thought he had a perfectly good reason to ignore my questions and concerns as if I wasn't the important kid he just needed to find two months ago.
I tried with all my might to hide the devilish smirk that was threatening to spill over upon my lips. How did I know, that walking away and exiting my own home would make him fall to the ground and plead for me to stay? Or, maybe I was over exaggerating just a tad bit. Either way, my ridiculous, two year old plan worked on the unshaven man. I turned on my heel, and faced him with a frown and a furrowed brow.
"You can hate me for all I care; but to keep these intentions good, and everyone happy in the end, you have to trust me. Some things just have to be kept a secret until it's time." I expected the hope speech, and wise words to come flowing first. It was something he was talented at, even if they were completely unnecessary to the situation. I also prepared myself for an explanation about the consequences he spoke about the other day, after Mr. Gold and his little chat, that I was purposely not aloud to be a part of. But of course, they were left in the shadows and were to stay there until the time being.
I clenched my jaw and shrugged, breaking those defensive walls down to his words that always seemed to make me understand. "I don't hate you." I sighed, biting the inside of my cheek.
He juggled the leather ball in his palms, and looked down at me with a gentle grin, "I know, kid." The silent tension that resided in the air only a few minutes ago, vanished and was replenished with the comforting and less awkward air that we usually surrounded ourselves with whenever we were together.
"August," I rose my voice in curiosity, "the people in this town..do you think they're even believing?" The doubt in my tone probably drug him to concern and worry - but he covered it well with a small smile and a gentle nod.
"Of course I do. Would I still be here, having you lug around a ridiculously large book if I didn't?" He tilted his head, and we shared a laugh.
"I guess not," I smiled, shrugging once more, "but then again, you are the type of person to invite yourself into someone's house as a complete stranger and talk to them about fairy tales." I rose a brow, and he bursted into a fit of giggles.
"Alright, alright." He rolled his eyes, and obtained a full grip on the ball. "Now, who's up for another game of 'dodge the antiques?'"
Our laughter filled the empty halls, and echoed throughout the large house. It was as if, no matter how hard I tried - Augusts' bad jokes, and ridiculous speeches always made me laugh and forgive him for whatever stupid thing he did now. It was kind of nice, depending on someone and expecting them to forgive you just as you forgave them. I haven't been able to have that with someone since my mother left.
"You're on, Pinocchio," I giggled, immediately running back into the living room and behind the large sofa. I lifted my palms, readying myself for the toss.
"Pinocchio, really?" He couldn't help but chuckle, and turned around to begin walking back to our makeshift football field that was by no means, a safe place to throw any sort of ball in the first place.
That wasn't even the craziest part of this whole mess. I was letting a man I've only known for a good two months waltz into my house and throw around a ball meant for one hundred yard fields, and men in helmets and shoulder-pads. Not to mention, there were tons of precious glassware my mother cared dearly for - that was almost ninety percent, always in the line of fire. It would be absolutely insane, of how dead I would be if she figured out what I had been up to, while she was stuck in a hospital bed unable to properly check on her nine year old son.
All I know, is even if she came storming back home, furious because we may of broken one or two of her valuable antiques - I'd still hug her as tightly as before, maybe even a little more. Because, as quick as I'd hug her, she'd be smiling down at my head full of hair and wrap her warming arms around me just as tight.
Not even a house full of broken glassware could change that.
It was rare to see Regina back into her lengthy hospital gown. She always despised the way it shaped her body, even if they weren't mean't to flatter anyone's body type in the first place. But no matter how many times I told her that, she just rolled her eyes and begged me to let her change into sweatpants and a t-shirt. I'd cave, and let her get her way. There were only rare moments in time, where the torso cast would irritate her so badly that she would resort to her gown. But that was mostly during the night, when she was tossing and turning in her bed to find a comfortable position to sleep.
She was also still very stubborn about wearing it. If the nurses, or any other doctors needed to do some form of a checkup, she'd pout like a child until she was forced to put it on. Or she'd be extra obdurate that day and they'd resort to finding me, knowing perfectly well that I could persuade her into mostly anything they couldn't. But with the gown, it took more than a please and pouted lips to get her up and moving.
So when I waltzed into the sunlit room, with Regina already sitting crossed legged in her bed - dressed fully in her gown, it was sort of unbelievable. Her head tilted downwards, as if she was examining the white bed sheets spread out from underneath her, and her hair slowly falling over her shoulders like some expensive portrait that someone was lucky enough to paint. Her tongue swept over her bottom lip, and pulled it in for her teeth to softly bite. I wondered if she even realized my presence, but it must of been obvious. A tall, gazing blonde walking into a dead silent room had to of been enough to have her brain click and recognize the sudden existence. But who knew, she was really out of it lately - and I had proof.
Earlier that day, when I tried to bring her lunch, we sat silently with her head practically in my lap, for over an hour. Just listening, and breathing. She didn't want to talk, and neither did I. Because I knew if anything was spoken, it would ruin the serenity that was lingering around us - keeping all hell from breaking loose. After a while of that, I felt Regina's rapid and anxious breaths turn to slow and calm ones. She had fallen asleep, and I didn't dare move her for the longest time, until I had gotten scolded by one of the other nurses to go 'do my job.'
Ha. Didn't even realize I had one anymore.
So I was forced to gently move Regina's dozing head back to her pillow, and return back to whatever the hell else I was supposed to be doing. Which consisted of sitting in my tiny ass office, worrying about the brunette that was most definitely still sleeping.
Today was the day that Regina was able to get her cast off. Which of course, was going to be snipped away by the one and only; me. I know, I know, take your seats ladies and gentlemen - it's really exciting. In fact, Regina was probably the most excited of them all! Okay, maybe that was a lie, considering the last thing she wanted to do was speak to me - or anyone for that matter. But, since I was her doctor and practically the only person who did minutely checkups on the mayor, I was the first candidate. Or, maybe I voted myself - the world may never know.
This was supposed to be one of the many exciting days for her; the fact that she was being freed from something that could've killed her over two months ago. But, the circumstances changed - and the situation didn't even slightly appeal to her anymore. I wanted to exclaim the news to her, when I had walked in with that sweaty tray - but I never got the chance. After I was forced to leave, one of the nurses came in and told her the 'exciting' news. I was a little angry at the fact that, that one warming chance I had to give her some good news for once, was taken away from me. But I swallowed my rage and went on with my day, until it was time to come back and release her squeezed torso from the hardened mold.
It was now five thirty four; I had to stroll tiredly around the inexpressive hospital for five or more hours, waiting for the clock to hit the exact time that I could begin to head back to room 108. My feet tried to drag me numerous times to her door, before it was even close to time. My hand travelling to the doorknob before my sanity kicked in and reminded me where I was and what exactly I was doing.
But I was here now, with mechanical tools resting in my palms and my eyes glued to the dazed brunette that still hadn't made eye contact with me, yet. A dark blue device, with a circular blade was grasped tightly in my hand - appearing as a dangerously terrifying object used to execute people on the daily. But, the truth was - all it could do was saw through a thick cast and be placed back into an old wooden drawer.
I gave one last glance at the dark haired woman, before finally dragging my feet and approaching her bedside. I watched as her eyes traveled down the silk sheets, trying to sneak a not so subtle peak at my weapon yielding self.
"Ready?" I rose my brow, along with my arm - the semi-terrifying object lifted in my palm. I forced a soothing grin, trying to break through those barriers she was desperately holding up.
My pleading emerald eyes were not even close, to expecting her head to turn and to receive a a forced smirk back, before her lips began to part for the first time in forever. "Yeah." She sounded completely breathless, but I blamed it on the fact that she hadn't spoken anywhere near ten words for over a day. Her dark locks flowed down her back and in between her shoulder blades. She had a quilted, warm blanket wrapped around her hips and down - her legs obviously criss-crossed beneath it.
A smile broke through, that I was incapable of containing. Hearing that soothing, and calmed voice after almost twenty-four hours, did something to a person. And that something, was a ridiculous beam spread across my face that I couldn't make disappear.
"Then, let's do this," I exhaled, a soft chuckle slipping past my tongue. I set the cast saw on the delicate little table that resided next to her bed frame, and took a few more steps to approach her huddled body. I extended my palm, and she placed hers in my own. I felt her muscles tense, and her hand squeeze tightly as she began to turn her figure to where her back was facing me. Once her strong grip released my cold hand, I stood straight and inhaled a deep breath. "Just a little warning, Gina. To be able to cut this thing loose, I have to untie the back of the gown." My eyes danced upon the dark strands of hair falling onto her back.
"Why do you think I have the blanket, Swan?" I recognized the sarcasm in her voice, making me want to hop up and down in utter joy and excitement. It was also the first time, that I hadn't gotten the itch of irritation from the 'pet' names. I saw it as a sign of recovery, and growth now. Something that she used when she was healing, and was a way of showing me that everything was fine. Or that everything, was going to be okay and that I needed to stop worrying so much. Funny, how after just a short time together I could pick these things up - like I was some sort of mind reader. Hell, I should be getting paid for this.
"Ha-ha," I mocked, lifting my trembling fingers to the tied laces on the back of her gown. They were knotted in perfect bow shapes, too perfect to unlace - but sadly it had to be done. I gently tugged a the ends of the string, the loops unraveling and falling to just - long thin strings of fabric. The edges of the pulled together gown, began to relax and part ways; revealing tan skin and a thick cast. After a few shaky breaths, and nervous eye glances I finally had gotten both bows untied and the gown freed from it's binds.
My fingers wrapped around the edges of the open gown, pulling the fabric apart just the slightest to reveal the casting from top to bottom. This required the fabric, just barely slipping from Regina's shoulders - her shoulder blades exposed, and the rest covered by the plaster. She turned her head to the right, half of her face being uncovered to my eyes. She seemed to be yearning to glance over and watch the procedure, but her eyes stayed low and swept over the creases and folds in the covers below her.
My own trailed down what portion of the spine I could see, and traced over her tan skin before mentally slapping myself and reaching for the set up, cast saw. I didn't realize how badly I was trembling until after I gripped the tool and saw it quivering in my palms. If I had a dollar for every time I inwardly smacked myself - I'd be rich and wouldn't even think about having a job in the first place. Possibly even, a millionaire living in a twenty story house with so many dogs that I couldn't even keep track.
I cleared my throat, trying to collect myself before digging the blade through the many layers of wrap and plaster. Regina may of noticed my sudden hesitation, but paid no mind to it other than the furrowing of a brow.
"Here," I choked out, taking my free hand and placing it at her mid-back. I knew she wouldn't of felt it, so I pushed softly, my fingers lingering on the hard surface of the restraint. She knew what I was doing, and began to straighten her posture, inhaling a large breath and setting her hands in her lap. "Brace yourself, it's kinda loud." I warned, my eyes tracing over the side of her cheekbone I could see. My palm retracted from her back, and I passed the cast saw over - as it was my dominate hand.
Just I had suspected, she was silent. Her hair began to fall over the eye that she was using to try and sneak a peak of the procedure, so she lifted her hand and swept a chunk of hair behind her ear. I took that tranquility as a sign to begin already - as I had been standing there for at least five minutes now. I gave myself the awakening and shaking of a head, bringing myself back to my prior thoughts and objective to why I was really here.
My index finger found the power button, and relaxed upon the cold surface for a few moments before finally pressing it down and giving the saw life. Due to the overly chatty nurses, I knew they had already explained to Regina, that the saw was not going to hurt her in any form - the blade only vibrated and was only capable of getting through the cast. But I, still had this lingering feeling that it could - even after years upon years of doing this same exact procedure on small children to even people in their ninety's. I knew the reason for my anxiety, but I didn't bring it to the surface of my thoughts - leaving it left behind like the other pointless shit I conjured up on the daily.
It sounded like a weed cutter, that thirty year old men used on their lawns to make it as precise, and as pleasing to the eye as possible. The shrieking noise thundered through the silence, and I could practically hear it bouncing down the halls outside of her room. I lowered the saw to connected with the cast, watching the strong fibers break apart quickly and satisfyingly. I did the sawing, in short down and up movements, careful not to burn her flawless skin that was awaiting underneath to be set free.
I could feel the relief radiating from her body, and the tension in her muscles relaxing as she began to enjoy the soothing moment of freedom. The pressure that was being released must of felt pacifying; as she exhaled a long, drawn out breath that was being held within her lungs. The cast began to split right down the middle, exposing her hidden skin underneath. I could specifically point out the long scar that trailed down her spine from the surgery months ago, the new, healed skin, paler than her own. I knew deep down that she would despise it at first sight, but would soon grow to love it in some sort of way. As a reminder that she was still alive, and able to walk through her own front door again, to meet her smiling son.
I tried my hardest to keep my gaze on the blade, and dividing cast - but it was a difficult task when smooth skin and dark hair kept pulling your mind to other places. I especially scolded myself when Regina's gown slipped gently from her shoulder, and threatened to expose her undressed body. But her palm calmly grasped the fallen fabric, and pulled it carefully back over her shoulder - just for it to continuously slip again. So she ended up resorting to holding the dropped material that lied mid-bicep.
I swear, she distracted me on purpose.
The rest of the sawing was painful, for me at least. My wandering eyes forcefully glued to the white plaster and vibrating blade in my hand. I felt my body go hot and cold at the same time, and contemplated just saying, 'screw it' and letting my gaze travel wherever the hell it wanted to. But I kept myself as collected as I possibly could, and finished the multiple cuts and slices into the thick casting.
My thumb found the power button once more, and switched it off. The room falling silent, quite suddenly. No more weed wacker's, and piercing noises - just breathing. I listened as Regina exhaled deeply, and my palms wandered to the cast that was now basically falling apart. I grasped my fingers around a few of the chunks, and separated them from the rest, and placing them on the metal cart to my left.
Regina's hands traveled around the blanket and arranged it to better hide her exposed skin, wrapping it tightly around her waist. The now, broken, cast was revealing her slim sides. I swallowed, and glanced to her before carefully taking the largest and last piece of cast - and heedfully pulling it away from her body. She lifted her elbows, allowing the cast to slip past and away permanently from her healed torso. The gown slightly lifted, revealing more of her smooth skin and the surface of her crossed legs.
I tried, I really did, to keep my prying eyes to myself. But I was Emma, and Emma was as curious as they came. Luckily enough, I leered my eyes away before she could catch me with her side-eye glance. I recovered, by setting the pieces of cast onto the table next to me, and acting as if I was in thought the entire time.
"Just think," I forced a soft chuckle, "you're going to be able to get up and moving on your own now." A grin spread across my lips, and I lifted my head to meet her eyes that were already planted on me. She had her head turned, to be able to glance over her shoulder with ease - her bare back still facing me.
"I don't think I would've been able to stand another day in this bed," a corner of her lip curled upwards in a smirk - bubbles of joy sent flying into my stomach. I knew she was still hurting, but now, she was trying. She really was, and I could see it in the twinkle that resided in her dark eyes when she spoke. All of her strength, and all of her might was going into those words and were holding back the tears she yearned to let loose. I was proud of her, and she knew it.
"Don't worry, your majesty. I'll get you up and out of that bed in no time," I reenacted an over-exaggerated bow, that sent an even bigger grin to dance upon her lips.
She forced a roll of her eyes, "Tie me back up, Swan. Unless you'd like me to waltz down the halls half naked." I heard the sarcasm in her voice once more, causing an unavoidable smile to spread across my lips.
I almost made a joke, almost. But I kept my flirtatious mind set away, and walked back over to her uncovered back; tying the strings of her gown back into adorable little bows.
But between you and me, maybe I wanted to have those strings untied for just a few moments longer. Just for the sheer joy to glide my gaze over the surface of her smooth skin, and admire how flawless one person could be.
Dirty blonde hair, and dark eyes is all that my mind consisted of, anymore. It was all I ever thought about since I stepped foot across that town line, and entered the odd aura of Storybrooke. It was like this disease that only affected myself, and nobody else around me. Only because they had no idea why I was here in the first place, and had their memories sucked from their pure souls. They had nobody to miss, nobody to cry over and yearn for. They only thought about their tasks, and never questioned how they ended up here in the first place. To them, this was all they ever knew and never really dived into the depths of those devouring questions. It was more of, a video game. But it was their lives, and since they can no longer remember their old selves, this was normal to them.
A flock of birds gathered some feet away from me, and in front of the small, fragile girl with a closed fist. They approached her fearfully, inching closer and closer as their pointed beaks pecked the ground searching for the unknown. I watched cunningly, a feeling of utter embarrassment that this was what I spent my day doing. She didn't even remember me, yet I still tried my hardest to see her and torture myself with thoughts and memories that I can't get rid of. I did it anyway; because I knew that deep down that little girl had the slightest memory of a man who raised her for years before she was taken away from him.
Or, maybe I was just mad.
A giggle erupted from the girl, the birds advancing on her small frame and tilting their heads at her closed fist. She was obviously holding something that sparked an interest in them, something that made them brave enough to approach her.
Her thin fingers unraveled, and she began to toss the grains in her palm to the feathered animals. Some shared, some fought, so she continued to throw, what I assumed were seeds, to them. They seemed to appreciate her kindness, and pecked at the ground a million times per second. Not leaving one spec of food to be left wasted.
A smile manifested itself onto her lips, and she watched the birds with pure joy. I liked to think that she was still the same, with her memories still planted securely in her mind. And I was still her father, just watching her play at the park like father's were supposed to do. They were supposed to spend as much time as they could with their children, and enjoy every single second like it was their last.
That was my problem. I didn't appreciate those moments, I took them for granted and expected to be with my daughter for the rest of my life. But things changed, and so did I. I took those moments, and used them as just passing time. When I really should've been hugging her tightly, and loving every moment for that instant. I was regretting it now, just like I should be. I deserved it, but she sure as hell didn't.
I folded my hands in my lap, trying to look as collected as possible and less creepy than I usually did. I made sure to forget that ridiculous hat, that I loved so dearly, knowing perfectly well that a man with a top hat would be noticed in just a mere second. My hair was tussled, and strands curled downwards onto my forehead in the oddest way. Even without the hat, people probably still noticed my strange presence.
I couldn't of cared less. The only one I was worried about, was Grace. Her Storybrooke name was Paige, which irked me in the weirdest way. That wasn't her name, it was Grace. Every time she was called the other ridiculous name, I cringed inside.
I was stuck in this feeling that she was still her, and her name had never changed. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come to the reality that she was different - but... she wasn't different in the way I was believing. It was all so confusing, and boggled my mind until I got sick to my stomach. So I chose not to think about it, and just continued to watch her feed the birds with a beautiful, wide grin. I missed that grin with every single bone in my body.
I either stared too hard, or too long. Sadly, it was most likely both, considering I wasn't paying much attention to my actions - because I was too focused on my thoughts. Her head whipped to the side, and her dark eyes landed onto mine. Her dirty blonde hair swung over her shoulder, so long I would've guessed that it could reach her knees. She tilted her head, and eyed me suspiciously.
It took me longer than it should have to react, and pull my gaze down to my folded hands. I wished on every star in the night sky that she wouldn't go running and screaming to her teacher, or whoever was around. That some man was being creepy, and staring at her from a park bench. It was sad that, that was my reality. This is what my life now consisted of, because I couldn't think of anything better.
Goddammit, Jefferson.
I didn't dare look back up, but could hear the crunching of grass under the weight of another's foot. I felt my face go hot, my fingers trembling as I tried desperately to clench my hands together, tighter.
"Hey, mister."
As if it was an instinct, my blue eyes darted up to see the blonde little girl skipping towards me. I was awaiting a harsh scolding, either from her or the invisible adult that I assumed would be chasing after her by now. But instead of a frown, and brassy words, she gave me a grin. I furrowed my brow, and gave a quick glance over my shoulder, unsure if it was I, that she was speaking to.
"Yeah, you. Do I know you, mister?" Her voice was high pitched, and squeaky - just as any other little girls voice would be. I hadn't heard that voice in such a long time, and yearned to pull her in for a hug, but restrained myself with difficulty.
My lips parted, and I felt my mouth go dry, "Probably not."
I glimpsed between my hands, and her peering eyes. Nerves racked through me, and pounded at my chest like a huge weight I couldn't carry. This was all so unpredictable, and scary - and that was saying a lot. I never got scared easily, it was mostly people becoming scared of me.
There was no shocking expression washing over her face, or utter befuddlement. She was calm, and her eyes traveled to the ground. There was a parade of tweets, and flapping wings following like an assembly line behind her. It was crazy, the birds had followed her - obviously intelligent enough to realize that she still had treats left for their open beaks. She noticed quickly, and giggled softly at their bulging eyes. A few more grains fell from her palm, and she turned back to me with a grin.
"Here," she advanced quickly to stand only a few inches from me, holding out her closed fist. I knit my brow together, and glanced to her fist before questioning her motive.
"What's this?" I asked softly, pulling my hands apart for the first time in what felt like years. Blood rushed to my white knuckles, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants before resting one under her awaiting fist.
She unraveled her curled fingers, and small grains began to descend into my open palm, "You feed them. They like when people feed them." Her answer was so innocent, and unadulterated it made my heart hurt. How could such a harmless, and small girl get caught up in something so big and horrible. She never deserved to be sucked up in that curse, and taken away from everyone she knew and loved. Now she was brainwashed, and as naive as a newborn baby.
But I swallowed my sadness, and took the grains with a forced smile. Just because she didn't remember, and had a mind full of lies - didn't mean I wanted to ruin it for her. I wanted her to be happy.
My fingers wrapped gently around the crumbs she placed in my palm, and watched as she turned back to the birds that were now surrounding us. A loud giggle escaped from her lungs as she tossed a bunch of crumbs at a time, all spreading and falling to the ground like some form of snow. I laughed with her, the birds pecking at her ground like wild animals.
"Now it's your turn," she grinned over at me, and rocked on her heels. I inhaled a sharp breath, and rose my shoulders as if I was about to shrug. A chuckle slipped past my lips, and I gave into her warming smile. I rose my palm over the heads of the variety of birds practically begging for what I held. After a few moments of their swelling eyes darting across each of my fingers and knuckles, I released the grains and let them fall to the ground. Some of the crumbs wedged themselves between their feathers, and top of their heads.
Grace had a good laugh about that, and as if it was contagious; I began laughing as well. Never in a million years would I have imagined myself laughing with my daughter again, just like we used to over the silliest stuff.
Like I said, this town has magic.
"Careful Gina."
"Emma, I'm fine."
"I know, I just-"
They always told me that my glare could send a million people straight to their graves. I concluded that they were over-exaggerating, because all that stare did was silence Emma's moving lips for a few moments. Not that I wanted to send her to her grave, I just needed a few minutes of non-nagging and silence to focus on my shaky steps.
Crutches weren't the easiest things to get the hang of, considering it felt as if they were slowly but surely, bruising my underarms. Not only was the bruising difficult to manage, but so was the balancing. When you constantly have one foot in the air, it got tiring and harder to manage as the seconds passed. But it was my only choice; Emma wouldn't dare to let me rest my healing foot on the ground for even a moment. She said that it would do more harm than good, and I believed her - even as stubborn as I usually was. She did something to me, even in my worst of days, like today, she knew how to break me open and get me to listen.
I took another well thought out, step. It felt so odd to have the freedom to move my torso again, without the worry of restraints. I could breathe easier, and better; and inhale the deepest breath I wanted without my lungs being crushed. I felt free, but then again - I was still trapped. My foot was taking longer than expected, even if it had only been a day or two. Emma told me not to worry, and that I shouldn't rush it. She was right; she was always right. But being me, I sarcastically rolled my eyes at her statements and continued being angry at my slow healing foot.
One of the crutches had a shitty grip on the floor, and slid a few inches - knocking my balance off, and causing my body to lurch and save myself. I adjusted my grip on the crutch, and replaced it's placement on the floor, making sure this time it wasn't going to try and kill me.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Emma spoke, her tone rising in concern. I took a quick glimpse up at her figure; her arms were crossed in a stern sort of way, but her expression told a completely different story. Her eyes watched me carefully, and were on the hunt for anything that could possibly happen. I could see the eagerness in her eyes, that she so badly wanted to rush over and hold my waist while I trudged slowly across the room. But I didn't need it, I knew I could do it without her help - even if I so badly wanted it.
I swallowed, and looked to the tiled floor, "I'm fine." I had at least said that same exclamation, twenty times today. Or, since I had gotten up out of that bed. I understood Emma's worry, but I think I could handle a couple of shaky crutches on my own. Nevertheless, I still greatly appreciated her concern - even if I didn't show it.
These past few days, I came off as a silent bitch. Sometimes, not so silent - but.. still a bitch. I treated Emma as if she didn't exist anymore, and shut everybody off. And by everybody, I mean the blonde doctor who brought me lunch and breakfast everyday, even if she knew I would turn it down.
It was my only way of healing, other than yelling and crying - and expressing all of my thoughts and feelings like nobody was there. I'd much rather be silent, and deal with them on my own I believe. I knew Emma wanted me to talk to her, even if it wasn't about the boy. But I just couldn't bring myself to it, even if I truly tried. All I could do was cover myself up under those heap of blankets, and curl up next to her side like an infant. Sometimes I felt like I would never speak again, and it frightened me.
But ever since earlier, when the blonde came in and released me from that cast - I was finally brought back to the reality I had been missing on. Maybe it was the overly ridiculous exposing of the gown, or her dorky grin that lured me back in; whatever it was, I was too joyous to be out of that gown and finally feeling somewhat like myself again. Don't get me wrong, I was still upset; and don't ask me why I was in the first place. We all know, I was the Evil Queen. She never got upset over anything, in fact she murdered hundreds without the blink of an eye. But now, I was Regina Mills. That queen was still inside of me, but she wasn't the one who killed that boy.
I, was the one who killed that boy. Regina Mills, the owner of the excessively expensive Mercedes, was the one who crashed head on into that teen. She was the one responsible, and she was far weaker than any queen; even if she didn't want to admit it. Just because something darker than ourselves lives within us, doesn't mean we are the same.
I couldn't count myself as an example, I refused to. I wasn't different than the evil in me, I was still her. She was still me. But something happened, when the news about that boy became clear to me. I changed for a mere second, and those tears that fell upon my cheeks were different. It was a good different, in a bad situation. Some chemical reaction happened in my body, and changed the way I felt and thought - but now I was back. Or, I was slowly coming back. I wasn't fully myself again, nor did I really want to at the same time. That change I felt for those first few hours, wasn't good - nor bad. I was sad, horribly sad; but it was the first sad feeling I had felt in a long time.
I guess it wasn't the crutch that had the horrid grip on the ground, it was more like me, not fully paying attention to my movements and carefulness. I slipped again, this time it was harder to catch myself and took more energy than I had in the first place. I snuck a quick glance to Emma as I was collecting myself, and saw the panic stirring in her eyes.
"Give me your hand, Gina." I was awaiting her comment, and knew exactly how she would react. So my response was nowhere near delayed, or shocked in any form.
"Emma, I'm perfectly capab-"
"Regina."
I pursed my lips, trying to externally show her that I didn't need it; but internally, I did want it. Her gentle hands always calmed me, and managed to settle my nerves in any situation. Especially everything that had been going on now, I needed her warm embrace. Which was funny, because never in twenty eight years and more, did I ever think that I'd want someone's embrace again; other than Henry's, of course.
All of these new feelings, and thoughts that abducted my brain like a virus and managed to take over my limbs like a possession; they were scary. But in some form, they were familiar. I can't recall what kind of familiar, but I had an idea; and that scared me far more than a shitty car accident.
"Fine, Miss Swan." I snapped my head up to look at her, my dark hair flipping over my shoulder dramatically. I had a feeling she was irked by the nicknames, yet appreciated them in a weird kind of way - that's why I continued to use them. It was also funny to see her exceptional eye roll every single time the name 'Swan' rolled past my tongue.
She tried to her best to ignore the name, and strided over to my weary frame. Just as I had expected, one of her palms slid down my back and barely cradled my waist. Her other palm found my elbow and grasped it so gently you might of thought she was trying to hold a small child, instead. My eyes fluttered without my consent, forcing me to clear my throat and try to control myself.
"See, isn't this easier?" Her tone was overflowing with sarcasm, obviously trying to get a reaction out of me. Trust me, I wanted to laugh and grin - and show her just how much I appreciated her presence, but nothing came. My lips stayed down-turned, and my eyes were glued to the floor. Maybe I was just focusing too hard on keeping myself from melting under her touch, or maybe I was being a cold bitch like always. It was hard to tell anymore. She must've noticed my absence, mentally and vocally; because her voice spoke up once more, "Regina, I know you're upset.." here we go, "but you have to talk to me."
I saw that one coming. Emma was full of hope speeches, and heart warming quotes; you'd think she had her own book or something. But all she was, was a doctor who had seen one too many people upset and depressed over something absolutely tragic, and she knew how to handle them. Hell, it was her job. But as those words flowed past her lips, they accomplished to hit some nerve within me - a nerve that controls the tears that flow to your eyes and the thoughts that enter your brain.
Dammit, how did she always manage to do this to me?
My eyes glossed over, and tears swelled to heavily there was no stopping them from piling over. I felt Emma's emerald eyes on me, and her expression changing from calm and collected to worried and heartbroken. Never in my entire life, had I been so emotional in just a matter a seconds.
"Regina..." It almost sounded as if Emma wanted to cry herself. But I didn't look; instead I turned my body so quickly to face hers, that my grasp lost my right crutch, and it fell to the floor with a loud clang. As I turned, I realized how close she actually was. There was practically no space between us; so my free hand lifted and wrapped around her torso like an instinct. And as if we spoke telepathically, we both wrapped our arms around each other and held one another tightly. I tucked my head into the nook of her shoulder, my dark hair now all tussled and tangled.
Tears slid down my cheeks, and soaked into her scrubs; but I knew she wouldn't mind. We had been in this situation a million times before, and she never batted an eye at her tear stained shirt.
It was like, if I was in any sort of distress - that was the moment to speak. It was the only time my vocal chords wanted to work, and turn their gears. So I took the opportunity, and spoke through my stutters and sobs.
"I killed him," my shoulders shook and I felt her arms pull me closer.
"No you didn't," her head shook side to side, her ponytail following with delay. I couldn't tell if she was trying to comfort me by saying I didn't, or she was telling the truth, "...he was dead the moment he sat in that car." She was obviously referring to his intoxication, and the driving. Which I agreed, but didn't really come to terms with the fact that I was the one who ended it all. I was too deep in my thoughts, and couldn't see a bright truck heading straight towards me. I could've easily swerved out of the way, couldn't I? There must of been some way to avoid everything that happened, I was just too blind to see it.
I inhaled deeply, trying to control my sobs and tears, "..his funeral." I choked out, pulling my tear stained face from her clothing and looking up at her with glossy eyes.
"What?"
"His funeral," my voice sounded nasally, and groggy, "it's in a few days, correct?" I rose a brow, my normal self trying so hard to peak through the sorrow. Emma's eyes fluttered, as if she knew something I didn't - or was just surprised that I even knew about the funeral in the first place.
"How do you know about that?" She questioned innocently, with a tilt of her head. I stayed silent, and continued to peer up at her oddly consuming, olive eyes. I waited for her ridiculously intelligent brain to click, and when it finally did - she exhaled. Tears were still gathering in the corners of my eyes, but I fought against them with all my might. Emma seemed to shrink in guilt and despair when she saw those droplets of heart-rending sorrow, and look down at me with gloom resonating in her eyes. "Those nurses couldn't keep one thing to themselves, could they?" She took in a sharp inhale of breath, obviously irritated at the fact that the nurses who rarely catered me, couldn't shut their mouths for two seconds; even if their lives depended on it.
"I want to go." So many voice cracks, and shaky tones. I practically had to bow my head to keep myself from bursting into another set of tears.
"Now, Regina," she turned from annoyed nurse to pleading mother in the blink of an eye, her tone rising higher as each word was spoken.
"Emma," my voice shook, and I glimpsed at the ground before gazing back up at the radiant blonde, "I want to go." I was no clever mind reader, but I could tell that my weak and trembling stare was getting nowhere.
"It wouldn't change anything, Gina." My heart throbbed, and I took a moment to pay attention to my surroundings. Emma and I were still closer than ever before, I grasped onto her arm with my left palm, keeping a steady balance - both of her hands, wrapped around my waist. I still only had one crutch, but it was useless right now; I was leaned into Emma's body. She was basically my support beam at the moment.
I bit the inside of my cheeks, and took an overdrawn blink before opening my eyes to the woman. A tear managed to escape, and left a trail behind as it rolled and fell from my cheekbone.
"Why are you my friend?" I forced a smile, along with a chuckle; as if I was going mad just from the sheer question. I got the immediate response I was expecting.
"What?" Emma rose a brow, and shifted on her feet, but careful not to unbalance me. I felt her grip get slightly tighter on my waist, pulling me closer even if it wasn't necessary.
I tried my absolute best to distract myself away from her divert lure, and let the tears and cracks of my voice overpower me, "If I can hurt..if I can kill, someone -"
"You didn't kill anyone, Regina."
"Emma, that's where you're wrong." It slipped, and even if she may of not known what the hell I was talking about, and took it as if I was speaking about the boy - I knew what I was talking about. I was talking about the people back in the Enchanted Forest, and the people in Storybrooke who had their lives stripped from them and thrown away like an old toy. Maybe that's why I was so upset, all of this wasn't just about some boy in a red truck.
It was about everything. She was making me question everything.
"Gina. You can tell me a million times that you killed that kid, but I'm telling you the truth," she began to plead like a child, her eyes staring me down like a concerned lover, "you didn't." Her words struck me suddenly, and my head began to sway - as if I was light headed. I was probably standing for too long, considering I had just spent two months vacating in a bed.
I kept my mouth shut, letting Emma speak because I had basically shut her off for two days now - and I knew how it felt to be ignored and having so much to say, but being unable to speak it.
"And I'm your friend because," she hesitated, her eyes wandering, "because I care about you, and I want you to be happy. You may not see yourself, but I sure do. And I see a strong and independent woman who loves and cares so deeply that she hurts herself in the process." Her jaw clenched, and her eyes were beginning to gloss over, as well.
I stood in awe, my head still light and tilted back to fully look at the blonde. I didn't realize how passionate her words were until then; maybe because I was closer than I should've been to her parted lips, or maybe my weary thoughts were getting the best of me. Whatever ridiculous reason it was - the way her eyes glanced between my own, and my lips, was something I would never forget. Something that would be planted in my mind forever. I liked to blame that on the lack of space between us, but I think we both knew better.
The words she spoke sometimes froze me, and made me think about why I really cared for someone like her in the first place. I never cared about anybody, until Henry came into my life; and after that I never expected to care for another. This was probably the exact reason I hated to leave Storybrooke in the first place, the real world was unpredictable and sent emotions spiraling towards you like bullets that you couldn't dodge.
The corners of Emma's mouth pulled back, revealing a genuine smile, and usually her smiles were contagious - but this time I just sat and watched. Curious as to why she was smiling, and why I even had someone like her to wrap their arms around my waist and tell me that everything was going to be okay. Because after all of the horrid things I did, and are doing - I couldn't find one good reason as to why she was placed into my life like this missing puzzle piece I had been searching for.
Her eyes scanned over mine, "I honestly have no idea what I did to deserve your presence, Regina...but I'm sure as hell not losing you now."
(( Hey guys! I know it took forever for this chapter to get finished, but I've been crazy busy lately! I just got my first job, and so many things are happening at school! I hope you can all be patient with me, and give me time to get out the next chapters! :) I'm working hard, I promise you & will try my absolute best to keep updating as frequently as possible! Love you all, MWAH ))