A/N: Let's get some proper conversation flowing between our two leading ladies shall we! Oh and this fic is set in 2015, just so you know date-wise.
"So, what are you in for?" Regina asked Emma when the blonde had settled beside her.
"I thought that was one question you don't ask a fellow inmate," Emma frowned, wiggling her bare toes against the grass.
Regina laughed once more. It was quickly becoming one of the blonde's favourite sounds. "I'm the queen in here, dear," she reminded Emma. "I can ask any question I want."
Nodding slowly, Emma turned away from Regina and watched a group of women playing basketball in the distance.
"Possession of stolen property," Emma declared. "My boyfriend set me up."
"Boyfriend?" Regina asked.
"Ex," Emma clarified, her eyes still on the basketball game. "He was supposed to meet me after he sold the rest of the watches but he never showed. Instead, a cop appeared and collared me for wearing the one watch Neal had given me as a present earlier that day."
"He sounds like a bastard," Regina remarked.
"Agreed," Emma nodded. "A bastard who's now stinking rich and has my car."
"Men are dicks."
"Can't disagree with you there."
"Women are so much better. Plus the sex is infinitely more satisfying."
At that, Emma's head whipped around to stare at the woman beside her. A smirk spread over Regina's face as she watched the blonde's reaction. Deciding she liked Emma's discomfort, Regina chose to stay silent and wait for the younger woman to speak.
"You … you're gay?" Emma asked.
"Yes," Regina said simply.
"And I thought it was just a stereotype that prisons are full of lesbians."
Regina laughed once more. Emma's heart beat faster. "Well it is, but by definition, there is an element of truth behind every stereotype, is there not?"
Emma nodded slowly. "I suppose. I just never thought that about you."
"What do you think about me?" Regina asked, her silky tones making Emma's brain work at a slower pace than usual.
"Many things," Emma said, her voice hoarse.
"Such as?" Regina asked as the blush spread further over the blonde's face.
Emma paused before deciding to be honest. "You interest me. I think there's more to you than you allow people to believe. I think you're an intelligent, capable, driven young woman and being locked up in here is driving you crazy. You hate not being in control of your life so you take power wherever you can. But this whole queen of the prison act, it's just that. An act. You pretend to be someone you're not as a defence mechanism, a coping mechanism. I'm not interested in Queen Mills though. I'm interested in Regina."
The brunette stared at the bold, young woman before her. She had been in prison for almost two and a half years and in that time, no one had ever been as blunt nor honest with her as Emma Swan had just been. More than that, no one had ever been so on point when it came to reading her. The insight this girl had into her true personality almost scared her.
"Prison changes people," Regina said after a long pause. "You adapt, learn how to survive. You do what you have to in order to make your time bearable."
"So you decided to scare the shit out of every inmate in your block using the muscle of three women who follow you blindly for no apparent reason?"
"They have their reasons," Regina said.
Emma snorted at the cryptic reply. "So you keep saying. What are these reasons, pray tell."
"I can't," Regina said, looking imploringly into the blonde's green eyes.
"Can't or won't?" Emma asked, staring back challengingly.
"Knowing would put you in danger. I don't want that, I've never wanted that. That's why I had to hit you last week."
Scoffing, Emma threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Do you hear yourself Regina?" she exclaimed. "You punched me to protect me? You're making yourself out to be some all powerful mafia mob boss or something. Well you're not. You're no better and no different to the rest of us here. We're all society's screw ups and we've been dumped in prison to pay for our crimes. Hell, I don't even know what you're in for. Oh right, I forgot. I can't ask that because I'm not the queen." The air quotes were back.
"Drug distribution and trafficking," Regina stated. "Three years."
"Drugs?" Emma asked, wide eyed. "Now that I did not see coming. You don't strike me as a druggie. That's a compliment, by the way, in case you think I might need punching for my own protection again."
Regina couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her at the blonde's words. "I wasn't a user. I was a dealer," she explained. "I never touched the supplies. I've never done anything harder than a joint in my life."
"So you got people like Red hooked onto drugs and made a packet off their dependency and depression?"
"I'm not proud of it," Regina sighed. "But I suppose that is what happened, yes. You don't know me Emma. I'm a selfish, greedy human being and I was only in it for the money. And I made a lot I can tell you. As long as I was getting rich, I didn't care who I was hurting."
"Was it worth it?" Emma asked. "The few years of living the high life in exchange for three years of your freedom?"
"No," Regina admitted. "I miss my friends. I miss my lifestyle before drug dealing. I miss simple things like walking to the shops to buy milk. I miss cooking."
"You cook?"
Regina nodded, momentarily lost in past memories. "Yes, I'm half Sicilian and half Puerto-Rican so it's in my blood. I love good food in general but cooking helps me relax, de-stress, and generally get back in touch with what's important in my life."
"What activity allows you do to that in here?" Emma asked.
"Nothing."
They sat in silence for a while, both women lost in thought. Emma picked absentmindedly at the blades of grass around her whilst Regina followed the flight of a small bird before it reached the fence and darted over the top. To freedom.
"Emma," Regina said at last. She waited for the blonde to look at her before continuing. "You won't tell anyone what I've told you will you?"
"No," Emma answered quietly.
"Thank you," Regina said before she lightly rested her left hand on top of Emma's right.
Emma jumped at the touch before noting how much her body relished the human contact. It was so rare in prison and she hadn't realised how much she missed it. The warmth of Regina's skin seeped into her own. Slowly, the older woman's slender fingers curled, the tips slipping around to grip Emma's hand more firmly. The blonde held her breath.
"I have to go," she said, jumping to her feet and walking quickly back to the block.
Regina watched her go with a sigh. Her heart was still racing at the sensation of the blonde's smooth skin beneath her fingers. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so affected by another human being.
"Shit," she muttered as she collapsed backwards and lay on the ground again, her hands covering her face.
"Where are your shoes?" Red asked the second the blonde padded barefoot into their bunk.
"Erm, I forgot them."
Red frowned. "How do you forget shoes?"
"Dunno," Emma shrugged. "I think I'm coming down with something though. I still feel a little queasy from this morning."
"Go to the infirmary then."
"Nah," Emma shook her head. "I don't trust doctors. Avoid them at all cost. If I'm sick again I might go see Booth but for now I'll self medicate."
"Self medicate with what?"
"Water and Rose Tremain," Emma announced, holding up a glass before picking up her book and flopping back down on her bed.
"Geek," Red muttered as she headed out to meet Boyd for a manicure session.
Emma never saw Regina return her boots but when she looked up from her book two hours later, they sat just inside the doorway, her socks rolled up and tucked neatly in the top of one. She smiled at the gesture before remembering their conversation. The woman became more of an enigma every time they spoke. Emma was intrigued by the brunette for sure but there was also an element of danger emanating from Regina Mills. Maybe that was part of the attraction. Wait. What attraction?
Luckily Red reappeared in her room to distract her from her thoughts.
"Come back to join us in the real world have you Swanny?"
"Hey, don't knock literary world. Right now, it's better than my life."
Red laughed. "Lunch?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling much better now so I could definitely eat some mediocre prison grub."
The two friends walked down to the dining hall where they met French and Boyd. The four women chatted together all afternoon and before Emma knew it, she was climbing into her bed and saying goodnight to Red. The last thing she did every night before she closed her eyes was look at the calendar at the end of her bed. It was the 1st of March and she had just flipped over the monthly page. She had arrived in prison on Friday 13th (the day really was unlucky) and February had passed by slower than Emma could ever remember. There was something satisfying about looking at the new monthly picture however, even if it was of a tacky landscape. Seriously, who ordered a calendar full of pictures of wide open spaces for the prison commissary. It was just cruel.
Emma rolled over and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to wash over her body.
Having her work detail gave the week structure and Emma found time passed minutely faster from Monday to Friday. Three mornings that week had seen Emma waking and rushing to the bathroom to be sick however, and the blonde was beginning to be concerned. She felt fine in herself, maybe a little more tired than usual but she put that down to not sleeping well. She was still unaccustomed to the noises that echoed through the corridors at night and woke frequently.
Her work finished early on Friday so she decided to go and speak to Booth. She'd seen him in the corridors a few times since her first meeting but hadn't spoken properly to him.
Knocking on his door, Booth smiled widely at Emma when she walked inside.
"Good afternoon Swan. How are you doing?"
"I'm ok thanks," Emma said as she took a seat opposite her counsellor. She said nothing more, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of her chair.
"How can I help you?" Booth placed his pen on the desk, sensing that the blonde needed to talk about something.
"I, well, I've been sick a few times this week."
"Ok," Booth said slowly. "You know you can go straight to the infirmary without making an appointment through me, right?"
Emma nodded, twirling the thread around her pinkie as she did so.
"What do you think might be causing your sickness?"
Emma shrugged, not wanting to voice her suspicions in case she was wrong and felt stupid.
"Would you like me to come and see the doctor with you?" Booth offered.
"Yes please," Emma said, in a voice far smaller than usual.
"We can go right now if you like?" Emma nodded. "Is there anything else before we head over there?"
"Am I crazy to trust some of the other women in here? I mean, should I think our friendships will last beyond these walls? And is anyone genuine in what they say? Should I believe anything anyone tells me?" Emma rushed out her questions in one breath, her anxiety and paranoia evident in her speech.
"Is there a specific inmate you had in mind for these questions?"
"Lucas, Blanchard, Boyd, French and I hang out a lot. Are we friends?"
"Do you feel like you're friends with them?" Booth asked.
Emma considered the question. "Yes."
"Then there's your answer." Booth smiled. "You're not so different from them Swan so if you care for the women and consider them your friends, chances are they feel the same way."
"What about an inmate like Mills?" Emma asked, tentatively.
"You're friendly with Mills?" Booth asked with raised eyebrows.
"I wouldn't exactly say friendly, but we've talked."
Booth considered Emma before replying. "Mills is an interesting character for sure. I'm not her counsellor and even if I was, I wouldn't be at liberty to speak about her time inside. But I'd proceed with caution if I were you." There was a knowing kindness behind the words.
Emma nodded and stood up. "Shall we get this doctor's visit over and done with?"
The two of them walked together down to the infirmary which was next to the library. Swan saw French through the door and waved to her. The brunette frowned as she watched her friend and the counsellor knock and then enter the medical area.
Emma had to wait for a bit before the doctor was free to see her. She sat beside Booth, tapping her foot and looking around distractedly.
"Why do you hate doctors so much?" he asked.
"One of my foster dads was a doctor. He was a bad guy," Emma shrugged.
Booth didn't press further but he could read between the lines. Many of the inmates he spoke to had suffered abuse in their childhood and this often lead to the crimes they committed. Booth got the impression the blonde sat timidly beside him had also been a victim.
"Swan?" called a voice from behind Emma.
The blonde jumped and turned to look. The doctor smiled at Emma, her blonde hair pulled up into a tight pony tail. She gestured for Emma to follow her into the examination room.
"Want me to come inside with you?" Booth asked.
"Do you have access to my medical records anyway?" Emma asked. Booth nodded. "Then sure, come on in."
"So Miss Swan," the doctor said as Emma sat beside her desk. "My name is Dr Fisher. What seems to be the problem?"
"I've been sick a few times this week," Emma shrugged. "I feel fine most of the time but a few mornings have been bad."
"Ok," the doctor nodded slowly. "Any other symptoms?"
"No." Emma shook her head. "I mean I'm a little tired but prison doesn't exactly allow for a solid eight hours every night."
"I'm going to take a few details and then I'll do some simple check ups."
Emma's medical history didn't take long. As an abandoned orphan she was unable to provide any familial medical knowledge and she had been a healthy child overall. Dr Fisher took her blood pressure, weight, temperature and pulse.
"I'd like to draw some blood for some tests if that's ok?"
"Sure," Emma shrugged. Needles had never bothered her so she stuck out her arm and waited for the doctor to do what she needed.
"The results of this will be in by next Friday so shall I schedule an appointment for a similar time?" Emma nodded. "How does 3pm sound?"
"Fine," Emma said. "Thanks."
"Of course," the doctor smiled at her. "And for now, I'll prescribe you some anti-nausea pills that you can take if you need to."
Emma returned to her bunk with her tablets. Red was nowhere to be seen and for that she was glad. She didn't like people worrying over her and she had tried to hide her sickness from her bunkmate. Emma's time in foster homes had given her ample practice at sneaking around undetected and keeping secrets.
Slipping her tablets between her spare inmate uniforms in her cabinet, Emma curled back up on her bed and reached for her book. She had just a few pages left and she was eager to finish it before dinner that night.
Minutes later, Red stomped into the bunk, kicked her cabinet in frustration and sat down heavily on her bed.
Closing her book, Emma looked cautiously at her bunkmate who was clearly fuming.
"What's up Red?"
"Nothing," the brunette grumbled, hands fisted in her own hair.
"Doesn't look like nothing," Emma commented.
"Just leave it Swan, ok?"
"Can I do anything to help?"
"Not unless you can convince Mills not to be a complete bitch."
"Mills?" Emma frowned, her curiosity piqued even more. "What's she got to do with this?"
"Nothing, forget I said anything. I'm going outside to the yard. Do a few laps."
"You run?"
"Gotta put these long legs to good use." Red grabbed her sneakers and left.
"What was that about?" Emma muttered. "Great, now I'm going mad and talking to myself."
The blonde shook her head, reopened her book and began to read.
P.S. Rose Tremain is one of my favourite authors of all time. Check out some of her work if you get a chance!