A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've been busy. But here, a (short-ish) chapter. I'm afraid I'm about to leave for almost a month of vacation, but I hope you enjoy the chapter, and thank you so much for your continued support. Another small note about another story of mine - WP has been on a bit of a hiatus too, partly due to some crappy comments I got when I posted the story on ao3. I'm still writing it, but I write for fun, and it was kind of making me miserable to upload. I haven't given up on it, though, or any of my other stories, so please bear with me, especially you sweethearts who are always there with encouragement and constructive comments. You guys mean so much to me, so thank you again.
Sneaking out of Regina's house in the early hours of the morning feels eerily familiar. Until she catches me, that is.
"Have a wonderful day at work, dear," she tells me, pressing a travel mug of freshly brewed coffee into my hand. I stare at her. I could have sworn she was still sleeping when I ducked into the bathroom five minutes ago.
"Would you like a ride?" she purrs innocently. I gulp. She chuckles.
"I can drop you a block away so as not to attract attention, if you prefer."
I'm kind of disappointed we're not talking about riding any more. She catches it, of course.
"Later, dear. I will not keep you from your work."
"You never miss a thing," I sigh. She kisses me on the nose. It's so familiar.
"Comes with being a mother," she says.
"It's nice," I admit. Suddenly, she's not teasing me any more. She puts a hand on my shoulder and looks right in my eyes.
"Good," she says softly. "You must tell me… You must let me be there for you, Emma. I have needed and greatly appreciated your support over the last few days. But I am here for you, too."
I put the coffee down so I can wrap my arms around her and pull her into a tight hug. I press my face into her shoulder so she doesn't see the tears that are prickling in my eyes.
In the end it doesn't matter that she drops me off campus - I hurry up to my room to change into more work-suitable clothes and none other than my darling roommate is sitting on her swivel chair in the middle of the room giving me the evil eye. She is anything but happy for me.
"Not now, Mary Margaret," I attempt, but I know she's not letting me off that easy.
"I know you have to work, Emma, so you have extra incentive to answer this quickly. Where were you last night?"
"Out," I say stubbornly. This is the kind of mothering I don't mind having missed out on.
"Out with who?"
"None of your damn business." It's a mistake. I'm playing into her hands. She knows, anyway.
"If it had been anyone else you would have told me," she says, getting out of the chair and putting her hands on my shoulders. I wriggle out of her grip but she meets my eyes with this horrible expression of pity and disappointment and superiority and suddenly I'm right in her face.
"You're not better than me!" I yell. "No one is! I'm good enough, I'm good enough to be happy."
She sighs. "Emma, I know that. But she's taking advantage-"
"No! She's not."
"You had sex with her, didn't you?"
"So what if I did?"
"Emma! She is ten years older than you."
"Closer to nine, actually," I sniff.
"Okay, nine years then. It's still way too much. And that's not even addressing the fact that she is your professor, your teacher. She's in a position of responsibility towards you and Emma… I…" She looks uncomfortable.
"Spit it out, I have to go," I snap.
"Em, you've… You've never been treated right by the people who were supposed to look after you. I don't know exactly what happened, what you had to do, but you don't have to submit to people any more. And… And if you really care about her, you're only going to get hurt. The best case scenario is, it's just sex. And that's still bad, Em."
"What, because a woman like her would never want more than sex from me? Because I'm worth no more than a body, a piece of meat?"
I'm close to crying for the second time this morning and this time there's nothing beautiful about it.
The worst part is, M's right. Not about Regina, maybe. But about me.
"You know nothing about her," I defend weakly. I try to think of a way to defend myself, but I have no more words. I undress and redress as fast as possible, then run out of the room.
I spend the day over too-hot, bleach filled water that burns my eyes and skin, and I relish in it. I relish in physical pain because it covers the emotional pain that I'm unable to deal with. I don't even take my break; I only leave when they kick me out at 5pm. My phone has a bunch of messages, but I don't look at them. I want to go back to the room to get changed but M might be there, so I just start to run. I run further than ever before, past my safe haven beach and into a part of town I hardly recognise. A rough one. I almost belong.
There's a clap of thunder. I shiver. My jeans are chafing, my t-shirt smells of spoiled food and sweat. My hair's falling out of its ponytail; when the first drops of rain start to fall I just pull it out.
I'm still on the beach, if you can call it that. The sand is muddy, there's litter everywhere… But it's empty, which is what counts. I sit on the sand, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head on them as the rain drums against my back.
The next hour or so is a blur, a blur of violent chest pain and burning muscles and hyperventilation. When I finally get control of my panicked body, I realise that I'm crying, though my sobs are mostly swallowed up by the roar of the wind and the ocean. I don't know why I take out my phone, I don't register hearing it ring, but it is ringing, and it's Regina, and I can't help but answer the call.
"Hello?"
My voice sounds so small I hardly recognise it.
"Emma?"
She sounds worried. I'm a terrible person. She has enough to worry about. Now I'm worrying her too. I don't even manage any more words. I just cry into the phone.
"Emma," she says firmly into the phone. "Where are you?"
"Not again," I mumble. I think I hear her laugh.
"You deserve to have someone to take care of you, Emma. Tell me where you are."
I do the map thing and give her an address.
"Okay, I'm on my way. Try not to get hit by lightning."
I laugh. I can't help it. She's so… She's making jokes. Jokes.
"I'm going to be about thirty minutes, but I'll stay on the phone. Henry says hello. And I loved the book. I read some of it while he was sleeping."
"You remind me of Carmilla," I tell her. I can feel her rolling her eyes.
"I don't think anyone could suck the life out of you, Emma," she says softly.
"You think far too well of me."
"As is my right, I suppose. Henry wants to know if you'll visit tomorrow."
"I…"
"You can think about it when you're warm and dry."
"I want to see him. I just…"
"And I thought I would be the one freaking out," she says wryly.
"Hey, Regina, this isn't because we-"
"Emma, I'm pretty good at knowing when people are lying, even over the phone."
She's got me. It is because we had sex. It's because… It's because we had sex, but we couldn't be close. I couldn't be close. It had to be a game. Like always. I just… I just fuck, I'm great at it, but there can never be feelings. And… Something M said is making me analyse everything in terms of my past, in terms of what I've had to do to get where I am today.
I don't know what I'm feeling for Regina. And I have no idea what she's doing with me. She doesn't sound guilty, though.
"I can't read your mind, Emma." She speaks softly, kindly, but… Like she knows herself. I don't think I've ever spoken like that, so quietly confident. She's been through so much, hell, she's going through so much, but she's so… She's so her. She knows. She knows who she is, what she wants, how to be. "But I hope you will talk to me. I've become accustomed to getting what I want from people, but you must understand, I only take what is willingly given. And only if the giver is also willing to take."
It's funny. There's a storm, whipping my hair, beating against my skin, and I'm wet and cold and shaking and yet hearing her talk, hearing her be rational and smart and somehow salacious at the same time… She's my shelter. Even her words, even on the phone, she makes me feel safe.
"You're so… Whole," I muse.
"What do you mean by that?" she asks.
"Like… You know everything you are, and you show it. You're smart and sexy and kind and reasonable and funny and caring, all at the same time. You're talking to me while you drive to rescue me from a storm. I don't know how you can take me seriously."
"Why should I not? If I am so complete, surely I am more than equipped to judge your character?"
"And what is your judgement?" I whisper.
I hear a car pull up nearby. There's no way she didn't break the speed limit. She leaves the headlights on. I hear her footfalls coming closer - or maybe I just feel her, moving in behind me. She sits beside me on the wet, dirty sand, squinting into the wind and rain.
"I think you are an exceptional and wonderful woman, Emma Swan, and I would be honoured to have the opportunity to get to know you better in any way you are comfortable with."
"Your kid has cancer, you're divorced, you're putting your job in jeopardy, and you're the one comforting me?"
"So it would seem. I don't mean to interfere, but is it possible that you downplay your difficulties?"
"I…" I don't know what to say. I can't tell her. "You've read my file," I say eventually.
"And it told me very little. I'd like to know you, Emma, the person, not Emma the file."
"I don't know how to explain…"
"Let's begin with the practical matters."
"Huh?"
"Why are you here?"
"Because… I was running."
She waits.
"I spoke to my roommate. She thinks you're taking advantage of me. And she kind of implied that that's all anybody would do, that it's all they've ever done. And she didn't mean it, but I felt like she was saying… No. That's not fair. I just felt it, on my own. I felt like I couldn't be loved, that I wouldn't ever be worthy of it. You said this morning that you wanted to be there for me but I don't even know what that's like. I don't know how it works, I don't know how to do it, I don't want to be taken advantage of and I don't want to take advantage of you! I don't know how any of this works and it would be hard enough if you were a normal person but you're not even that, you're my damn professor and you have a potentially dying kid!"
She puts a hand over mine and grips my fingers.
"When I feel myself spiralling, when my pain, my past, my fears, threaten to take me over, I take a deep breath, and I say to myself, 'You are where you need to be.' It's a small thing, a phrase that could have many meanings. But it calms me. It reminds me that while I have no control, no control over my dear, potentially dying son, I have the moment I am in. I have this moment, I'm in it, I'm living it, and Henry is here, now. I am here. I have air in my lungs, my heart is beating, so I live. I can't know the future, I can't change the past, but I have the here and now, and I always will."
She waits, now. She's still holding my hand.
"You're where you need to be, Emma," she says.
I turn to her rain soaked face. She looks right into my eyes, so clear, so honest.
"I'm where I need to be," I repeat. She gives me a small smile and a little nod, then stands and pulls me up after her.
We walk to the car. I don't realise how cold I am until I start to warm up, surrounded by warm air and heated leather.
"Where do you need to be next?" she asks me. I smile. I have to.
"Can I come home with you?" I ask shyly. She takes my hand again.
"Of course you can."