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Chapter 4: Sleepless in Storybrooke
Regina stops completely and turns back around, feeling eyes on her once more.
Emma, just before turning the knob for her room, stops-hoping with everything in her that Regina is still in the hallway.
Regina smiles apologetically to Robin before wrapping her hands around his, still holding her heart.
"You know what? Take this back to my place, okay? I'll be there shortly. I'd like to speak with Henry's mother before we go."
Robin nods, albeit a bit uneasily, and watches Regina slip past him, back down the hall.
Emma straightens up when she sees the brunette making her way steadily back towards her, limping slightly. She clears her throat and adjusts her hospital gown to the best of her ability.
"Regina." It comes out more of a statement than anything.
"Emma," the older woman says simply, in a tone Emma is quite sure she's never heard before. She gestures towards the door. "Let's get you back in your room."
Emma groans upon trying to get back into the bed comfortably.
"Oh, let me help."
Regina rushes over to her and puts her arms around her shoulders, helping her scoot into the bed. When the blonde is settled, she reaches down and pulls the blankets up around her.
"Thanks," Emma blushes.
"Of course."
"So…" they both begin, and then laugh awkwardly. It's no secret that there are things that need to be said between them and even more that needs to be clarified.
"You first."
Regina nods and licks her lips. Emma can see she's really thinking about what to say and can't ignore the knot forming in her throat.
"Thank you."
"For what?" Emma questions, incredulously.
"For saving me."
"Me?! You saved my life," Emma scoffs.
"Yes, well. You saved my heart and, ultimately, you were the one who defeated Zelena."
"I couldn't have done it without you," she whispers, never looking up from her hands folded on her lap.
"Emma, your power. It—it's something I've never seen. You're really amazing, you know that? And to think to find my heart while all of this is going on. I just can't believe—"
"That anyone would care enough?"
"Yes," Regina answers quickly, almost surprised at how pointedly the blonde answered. She shakes her head. She figures Emma probably feels the same way, too, never having anyone to sacrifice much for her during her time in the "real world."
"Yeah, well," Emma trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence she just began.
They sit in silence for a few ticks before Regina begins again.
"I wish I could explain what Zelena said out on the square. I—"
Emma shakes her head and offers a small, dismissive laugh. "Regina, don't worry about that, okay? She was just toying with us."
"Yeah. You're probably right."
Emma shrugs and tries desperately to force her heart and mind to quiet down, to let this moment die.
Die. Death.
They both almost died earlier. Although what she's feeling is certainly confusing, she can't just let it all end here. What if something would have happened to Regina? Could she live with knowing she never told her how she felt, how she could related so intimately to her, how she always knew what Regina wasn't saying?
No, she couldn't. It's time.
"She may have been toying with you, but I do care, Regina," she clears her throat, willing her voice to become louder, clearer. "I care a lot."
Regina's mouth parts and her eyes widen as she looks over Emma, who has finally lifted her gaze to meet hers. What was she saying? What did she mean? The older woman searches her eyes penetratingly.
Sincerity. Pure, unadulterated truth.
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. Of course she cares, too. Emma is, after all, the birth mother of her son. And, much to her chagrin, over the last year, she has grown accustomed to the blonde and her charming antics. She may even find them endearing at this point, but caring? Really caring? Not possible. What did Regina know about that anyway?
Besides, this was the child of the woman she spent her life hating… the very female child of said person at that. Not that it was a huge issue, but she had never… explored… that side of herself. Even if she did, she knows she doesn't deserve someone like Emma Swan. Emma deserved to be with someone who could give every piece of them wholly to her, trust her completely, and allow her to be their savior time after time. She wraps her arms around herself at the realization.
"Emma, I care about you, too."
"You do?" The blonde perks up, her heart pounding in her ears.
"Of course. You're Henry's birth mother and you've come to my aid many times. I don't know where I would be if you hadn't thundered into my town."
"Oh."
Regina smiles. "We're friends now, right, Emma?"
One corner of Emma's lips manages to turn up ever-so-slightly. "What? You know we are."
"I'm sure any other feelings are just a result of the trauma you've been through today. You experienced quite a bit, you know?"
Although Regina's delivery never falters, her chest is aching from an emptiness that goes far beyond the absence of a heart.
Emma furls her brow, thinking about that. Maybe she's right.
Regina nods again, reassuring both Emma and herself of what she just said. She stands from the chair and walks across the room.
Noticing the extended silence and the stiffness of her motion, Emma finally speaks up. "I guess you have a big night planned, with you having your heart back and all." She hopes Regina doesn't notice the sickened and hurt look that overtakes her face.
"Yes, I suppose I might."
Emma looks up, noticing the tone Regina uses. It's almost as if she wants any reason to avoid what they both know is probably in store at 108 Mifflin tonight. Regina stands and moves closer to the door.
"Regina?"
"Yes, Miss Swan?"
Emma sighs. We're back to that.
"Have a good night. Try not to lose your heart again anytime soon, okay?"
The brunette catches what she thinks is probably a double meaning in Emma's words and it makes her want to die, literally. Does Emma really care for her this way? Does she care about Emma that way? Everything is all so confusing right now. She just needs to sleep on it. Tomorrow will surely provide a clearer outlook for everyone involved.
"Goodnight. Get well, okay? Henry will want to see you first thing tomorrow and hey, you never know when Storybrooke will need their hero."
Emma plasters on a closed-mouth grin. "Yeah."
That seems to be the only thing I'm good for around here anymore, she thinks.
The door clicks shut behind the woman. The echo from it sounds in Emma's ears for many hours afterward, robbing her of any sleep or rest she might need.
_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._
Despite an upped dosage of pain medication and forcing her eyes closed many times over the next few hours, slumber never comes. She looks up at the clock on the wall.
1:14 a.m.
"Screw it," she mumbles and pulls the blankets back.
She opens the cabinet in the corner of the hospital room and pulls out some clothes. Obviously her mother had sent her father to retrieve them upon her less-than-graceful arrival at the ER. She looks down at the IV in her hand and takes a deep breath before pulling it out herself. She grabs some napkins from the bathroom and presses down on the spot until it stops bleeding.
"Fuck!"
When am I going to stop hurting myself for that woman?
Emma pulls her clothes on quickly and laces up her boots, having to stop every few seconds due to her head swimming from all of the medication.
When she's fully dressed, she stands and carefully opens the door. She checks down both sides of the hallway before tiptoeing out. Right now, at this moment, she wishes Regina would have taught her invisibility.
Regina.
More determined than ever, she sneaks her way past nurses and doctors, stopping only to breathe once she reaches the elevator. She knows it's probably not the smartest move, but she just can't risk taking the stairs. If she does, she may not make it to the next floor and, ultimately, to Regina.
Ding.
Her breath catches in her throat. She closes her eyes, willing herself undetectable. She exhales sharply when a little old nurse waddles into the elevator, offering her a sweet smile.
"Hi," Emma smiles back.
The nurse nods, presses the already-illuminated button for the lobby, and settles in beside Emma.
Ding.
_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._
Mills Mansion… 1:00 a.m.
Regina rolls over and closes her eyes when she feels arms wrap around her, pulling her naked body flush against the warm one she just spent hours discovering.
"You're amazing," he whispers into her hair before placing a small kiss on the back of her head.
She takes a deep breath and holds it in a moment before answering. "You, too."
It's only a matter of minutes before she can hear his deep and rhythmic breathing against her body. She tries to relax, tries to fall asleep, but she can't. This is insane. She has her heart back, the man of her dreams, her destiny, in bed with her, and she just spent the last three hours making… lo- having sex with him. She should be floating right now. She swallows hard and looks down at the tattoo on his wrist, letting her fingers reach out and trace it ever-so-softly. He stirs a bit at her touch and rolls over, his back to her. She silently thanks the gods and slips out of the bed, knowing she probably won't be sleeping tonight.
Downstairs, she begins making a pot of coffee. She figures if she's going to be up all night, she might as well be fully awake. In this moment, she wishes Henry and Roland were here to provide some kind of distraction, some kind of excuse, should the sleeping man upstairs wake to seek her out once more. She leans back against the island in her kitchen and sighs. Why does Emma Swan have this power over her? To make her doubt herself, her decisions? Not just with Henry, but with her love life as well? Was Emma's time of torture ever going to end or was it going to slowly drive Regina into a deliciously maddening state of unraveling?
She jumps when she hears a light knock on her front door. Her eyes quickly dart to the clock on the wall.
1:50 a.m.
She knows who it is… and she's furious. She ties the knot tighter on her robe and stomps over to the door, flinging it open.
"Ms. Swan!"
"Hi," Emma croaks, almost doubled over.
Regina grabs her arm and pulls her inside.
"What the hell are you doing here? You're injured!" she whispers, looking outside as if to check if anyone saw Emma on her doorstep. She spots the yellow monstrosity parked on the road and silently curses herself for leaving it at the hospital earlier.
"I—"
Emma stops and takes in her appearance. Steel grey robe just barely covering her well… "assets," swollen lips, sexed-up hair. The longing in Emma's eyes quickly turns into disgust at the realization of just what happens when one Regina Mills gets her heart back.
"You what?" Noticing her eyes and the hurt look in them, Regina wraps her arms around herself, almost ashamed.
"I think I need to talk to you."
Regina sighs and shuts the door gently.
"In here, so we don't wake Robin," she motions towards her study.
Emma's stomach turns again. She doesn't know that she can handle this. What the hell was she thinking coming here anyway?
"You know? Never mind. This was a bad idea. It's really late." She shakes her head and steadies herself against the wall.
Regina turns to face her with what Emma might consider pleading in her soft brown eyes.
"I should just go get Henry from Archie's and take him home. This," she motions between the two of them "can wait." She dares a glance towards the upstairs where she knows he is.
"Emma, please…"
Without a response, she turns on her heel and walks out of the house and back to her car. Regina rushes to the window and watches her hobble down the driveway towards the curb. She should stop her. She should run outside, tell her to wait, ask her what she needed to talk about. No. She can't. She knows what she was going to say… mostly.
And how? Because she feels the same way? No. She can't, right?
She refuses to hurt anyone else and going after Emma, learning the truth, validating her suspicions, would do just that. She watches her start the car and her taillights fade down Mifflin Street before going back into the kitchen.
_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._
"It's 2:00 a.m. Happy early Saturday morning, Storybrooke. We're back on the air! No wickedness to report thanks to the bravery of our—"
Emma switches off the radio and drives through town in silence, the voices in her head enough to keep her company-unwanted company, but company nevertheless.
She stops when she reaches Archie's loft. She wants to go in and get her son, the only comfort she seems to have anymore, but it's 2 o'clock in the freaking morning. She knows how Henry is about his sleep and, besides, Robin's kid is there as well. She should just wait a few more hours. Picking up her phone, she begins to dial her mother's number, but stops. If she's not actually having the baby right now, she's probably asleep. Maybe she should just go back to the hospital and, at the very least, be with her parents. She leans her head against the steering wheel and groans. Her body is in tremendous pain and, in this moment, Emma is feeling much like her twelve-year-old orphaned self. She just wants to be numb, feel nothing, sleep.
"Booze." She states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She suddenly perks up and shifts her car into drive, making her way towards the only place in Storybrooke open at this time.
_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._
"Sheriff Swan! What brings you to The Rabbit Hole tonight? Up for another round of fighting off the evils of Storybrooke?"
Emma smirks halfheartedly before taking a seat on an empty barstool. Evils. Regina. Regina fucking Mills.
"Or maybe just a whiskey," he offers with a laugh.
"Neat."
The bartender nods and pours her drink. "A double, on the house."
She nods, holding up the glass towards the man, before killing it in one shot.
It doesn't take long before the locals are swarming around her, singing her praises, and buying her more drinks. Her head is spinning from all the attention, all the noise, all the alcohol. But finally… finally she's numb. Physically and emotionally void of any feeling. For now. Wanting this feeling to last as long as possible, she holds up her now-unfilled glass.
"I'm empty!" She slurs.
Those around her cheer and motion for the bartender to pour another. She smiles. She's their savior. This is good. This feels nice. This feels…
"Emma?!"
Someone is calling her name. She wills her eyes to open, but they won't. She tries to move her limbs, her mouth, but they don't. She feels water splashing in drops on her face, but she can do nothing about it. Is this the alcohol? What happened to the bar? To her adoring fans? To the praises of the savior? She lets her mind drift away again, her body settling into the hard surface beneath her.
"EMMA!"