Chapter Twelve: Blessed Be the Caged Beasts


Beyond getting out of bed to take Henry back and forth to school, Emma hardly left the house for the next few days. She'd been so overwrought and distressed with what had happened at the cemetery that it was at least two nights' worth of sitting up straight in her bed, clutching a pillow against her stomach and rocking to the sound of her bedroom tv. Adamant in her refusal to fall asleep and chance herself a victim to what would undoubtedly be some intense nightmares, Emma poured herself over every word of the letters Regina had given her. The earliest dated among them seemed to be in line with what she had previously told her, about how she had all but accused Sidney of framing her.

Wednesday, November 30

Dear Regina,

It wounds me considerably that you would think me capable of such a thing. I had for a time thought not to return your letter, as it sat upon my writing desk staring me in the face for the better part of an afternoon and now, it appears that I am here …wounded… the ink with which I am writing to you dipped from the very font of my broken heart. You simply must believe me; I had nothing to do with any of it. I would come to see you in person and tell you this myself if the search for the truth didn't keep me so furiously engaged. Cher, I have uncovered some things of monumental proportion which shall aid in not only your innocence, but furthermore a grander recollection and recompense of history. For now, I know not of another way to prove to you that I have been and will continue to be your humble companion in knowledge, your patient ear for when you are downtrodden, and above all,

Your friend.

Sidney

Emma read each of them front to back more times than she could count but came away from them all knowing one thing for certain: Sidney Glass, on a very basic level, was a person that was more concerned with dusty books and basement crawling than he was with committing a murder. To her great relief, one internet image search of the man provided her with a photo— which dispelled her underlying suspicion of him being the result of some feverish, poison-induced hallucination back in New Mexico. He was flesh and bone, after all… and incredibly skittish, apparently.

Three more days Emma spent in the sanctuary of her bed before she willed herself to get to her feet and head into town. A caliginous fog had rolled in following a few days' worth of rain and the blonde steeled her nerves to walk into the thick of it as she made her way toward the front steps of the city library. She had decided to play it safe and to steer clear of requesting any official company documents for now, based on the "not quite right" feeling that hung like a rock at the bottom of her stomach.

Not knowing where to even begin, Emma took a chance with a librarian. Or the lack of one, rather. She squinted at the long desk to the right of the door to find no one there. A library with no librarians… Emma puzzled. She walked its length back and forth for a moment, noticing the whole of the library was just as empty. Now that's just downright sad. Does Henry sit in here alone and read all day?

The sudden urge to hug her son nearly distracted her from the small handled brass bell that sat at the far end of the tall checkout desk. Emma couldn't help the shit-eating grin that crawled across her face. "It's like you want me to make noise…" She chuckled quietly to herself before plucking the handle off the desk and swishing it back and forth gleefully.

Loud ringing chimes broke over the silence of the library like echoing cracks of lightning, and Emma jumped at the volume of the noise, realizing suddenly that she may have underestimated her enthusiasm when it came to ringing bells. She clacked the instrument back down onto the surface she had liberated it from and gave an awkward shrug of her shoulders as if to apologize to… absolutely no one. Admittedly, her opportunities for mischief were seldom at best— She typically found her little thrills where and when she could.

"Good morning."

Emma gave a half-yelp and spun on her heels toward the small, feminine voice behind her, clapping a hand over her mouth reactively.

"Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to sneak up on you…"

"You didn—" Emma stopped. She had. Snuck up on her, that is. Guess there's a first time for everything… The blonde mused.

"I'm Belle. Can I help you find anything?"

"Belle?" Emma parroted, tossing her eyes back at the one she'd just rung like a wild child set loose.

The small, auburn-haired librarian giggled and placed the tip of her finger on the end of the bell handle to walk around behind the desk. "Indeed."

Emma shook off her embarrassment and racked her brain to remember why exactly she was there in the first place. "Right! I… I'm here about Empire Sugar? I'm looking for—"

"Oh- yes! Of course you are." Belle said suddenly and then turned to grab a tall stack of large leather-bound tomes and various folders of what looked to be newsprint clippings.

"Uh—" Emma withered with her confusion and whispered under her breath, "Huh?"

Belle set the imposing stack down onto the desk with a small, grunted effort and then took a step to her left to see around it as it stood a good foot taller than herself now. She huffed from her exertion, "Mr. Gold said that you're to sign for these but not to leave the premises with them, and that I'm to watch you as some of them are very old and very fragile, and very valuable."

Emma floundered, not knowing quite what to say other than, "Who?"

"My husband?" Belle stopped, a look of realization spreading wide over her square shaped face and soft eyes. "You're not the company accountant… are you…?"

Emma gave a slow shake of her head in return. "Afraid not, doll."

The front doors of the library opened then, and a cloud of fog poured in from the outside. Through its dissipating thickness walked an older gentleman with a surreptitious sort of limp, the cane in his hand helping him to swagger right along. His hair was long and grayed nearly to his shoulders, and Emma noted hints of a younger light brown within it as he drew closer.

"Belle, dearie, how are you for an early lun—" He slowed as he approached the desk, catching sight of Emma standing there with her hands tucked into her pockets. "Oh, hello. Seeking refuge from the morning brume with a tale of mystery? No…" He wagged a finger next to his head in thought. "Horror?"

Emma gave a shy grin. "Not quite…"

"Ah. Then my wife here has no doubt convinced you to select from her favorite authors of romance?" His piercing, dark eyes that sat under a pinched brow looked at her expectantly. His voice seemed friendly enough, but the fact that it did not match his expression in the slightest made Emma feel very uneasy.

She couldn't quite place his accent, but what she did recognize was that he was the same man who had stormed the courtroom weeks ago with some well-timed evidence. Emma hesitated, understanding that she was now on the precipice of quite the explanation— One which she didn't exactly have. Though, it didn't take long for her quick thinking to snap back into place like a well-oiled machine.

"Actually, your wife here was kind enough to inform me that this library doesn't have the title I'm lookin' for, but now at least I know where to find it." She lied, catching the slow blink of a "thank you" from Belle.

"I see. Best of luck to you then." He smiled. Belle pulled him gently downward by the wide lapel of his twill coat and pecked a loving kiss upon his stubbled cheek, silently offering Emma an opening to escape.

Emma shot them a smile in return. "Good mornin' to you both and thank you again, Belle." She dipped her head with a nod then. "Sir."

Emma left the library with a reeling sense of "what the fuck just happened" as she braved the fog back toward her car. Sugar Land wasn't much of a small town, though the blonde did seem to have an uncanny ability to run into people from time to time. Her head swam with all of the different scenarios she might have been faced with had she stayed and gotten a look at the stack Belle had set out for her. Surely there was something within those brittle pages meant for company accountant eyes only… and that only meant one thing, of course:

Emma wanted to know what it was.


"He's missing?"

"I'm sorry..."

Regina's breath caught in her throat in an attempt to stifle a sob, breaking it off at its zenith. Her chin quivered, dimpling here and there. She so badly wanted to cry; Emma could tell.

"Is that it?" She asked.

Emma shrank a bit. "No… not exactly."

Red eyed, Regina tossed her chin with an emphatic gesture as if to say, "Out with it, damn you" and Emma eventually caved.

"What I need you to understand is that I only stepped into something larger here, okay? I didn't have anything to do with any of it." Her eyes searched over Regina's frozen expression like a search light, looking for any soft place to land. "Sidney was named as a suspect and a warrant was issued for his arrest, but when they went to pick him up- He was gone. His place was a wreck."

There was a long, surprised pause until Regina's face screwed together with disbelief.

"I trusted him…" She began.

"Regina—"

"I trusted him—!"

"Now listen…" Emma said, placing a hand on one of Regina's tightly curled fists. The tactile response from the brewing storm of a woman sitting across from her was one of shock, and then a calmness seemed to wash over her as her fist slowly unraveled. The fair, tawny shore of her face flushed with a rose color around her prominent cheekbones then. Emma gave Regina's hand a small squeeze before she continued, "I read the letters he sent to you. Deep down I know that you don't believe he did it, and I'll tell you somethin' else too… I don't either."

Regina seemed to focus on her thumb which ran back and forth into Emma's palm for a beat until she took it back, letting her hands fall into her lap with a sad limp. She sniffled, throwing back on her familiar, icy mask of invulnerability. "And what makes you so sure?" She asked as she straightened her back, laying more emphasis on the word 'you'.

"It's a gut thing." Emma replied. "I'm gonna see this through to the end, okay? Just because once I get my claws into something I don't usually let go until I'm satisfied."

Brown eyes the color of shiny copper pennies darted up at her with that and Emma realized too late the sexual undertone of her words. Something plucked a chord behind her ribs and very quickly after that she made her way towards a different topic of discussion.

"You give any thought to what you'll do when you get outta here?" She asked, clearing her throat a bit.

Regina blinked, her eyes likely dry from their apparent redness. She'd seemed to have cried so much lately. "I'm not sure. All I know right now is one thing…"

"What's that?"

"The very next time I feel safe… I want to stay there forever."

Word for word, Emma knew what that felt like. Though, saying it was always much easier than living it. Something had always happened to uproot the blonde from one place to another in her life, which were simply the vicissitudes of growing older in a world without a safety net and no real sense of security, and absolutely no one to call for help. Emma learned over the next few months that Regina had her own struggles, none of which were borne of poverty, of course, but still somehow always landed equidistant to Emma's. They came up here and there, falling into conversation over time the more that she visited her. Regina was the once proud daughter of a generationally owned milling company, who was propositioned and sold to a man twice her age lest she be the cause of ruin for her iron cage of a mother. She did however speak fondly of her father whom she lost when she was much younger. He had been her only safe place and was the only person who apparently treated her like a human being and not a bargaining chip. Over time, Regina shared her love of horses and her favorite meal (Lasagna) as well as her thoughts on red apples versus green, among other things that made her more of a person and less of a victim. Or "villain" as she would claim, on her rather unhappy days.

She began to smile more, and a few times she had even laughed. Emma called that a win. But would you call her a friend…? Emma's misanthropic side broke through, catching her off guard. I don't know… do I have to call her anything? Her denial took over then as she leaned a hip against the door of her Volkswagen.

"I'm just a person, helping another person out." Emma reminded herself under her breath as the chain link gate near a guard tower rolled from left to right on a wheeled track.

The sound of a loud buzzer rang out into the air as Regina stepped beyond the perimeter of the jail for the first time in three months, and Emma was stunned. Regina had spent so much time in beige that seeing her wear anything else again came as quite the surprise to the blonde. Regina wore what she'd dressed in during her day at court back in November. She had on a red dress that stopped above her knee and a dark, navy blue blazer on top. The thin black belt around her middle dripped with a small gold chain where it clasped, and Emma suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to trade places with the sheer black stockings that graced the skin of the other woman's legs.

Regina genuinely seemed relieved to be out in the sunshine that mid-afternoon where the clouds rolled in fine wisps across the sky. The first of March was a bit balmy with all of the rain, but it was still cool enough for Emma to don a brown leather bomber jacket. She'd pulled her long, blonde hair into a ponytail at the back of her head and idly ran the length of it through one of her hands— anything to distract herself from staring at the woman walking her way with an almost too confident swish of her hips.

"Your chariot, your majesty…" Emma said with a dramatic bow.

"Don't call me that." Regina rolled her eyes just as Emma lifted her own. "And you pronounced 'deathtrap' wrong."

The blonde gave Regina a scowl, following her with a narrow stare as she rounded the car to stop just outside the passenger's side door. Then she shot her a wink. To be fair, the last time Regina had been in her beat up little spitfire of a Volkswagen Beetle, it hadn't exactly been a smooth ride, both in the figurative and literal sense. After one new battery cable and some handiwork with a tub of bondo around the quarter panels and wheel wells, she was roadworthy once more. Emma was exceedingly proud of her repairs, though to anyone else she supposed the vehicle would appear like somewhat of a "deathtrap" at first glance. The car certainly had character.

"So, before I take you away from here—"

"In my chariot." Regina cut in from where she now sat in the passenger's seat.

Emma struggled past a breathy laugh to keep her train of thought. "Yes—"

"I suppose that makes you some kind of knight."

"Um, no—"

"You and your shining armor…" Regina's eyes flitted over Emma's glossy leather jacket.

The blonde looked down and ruffled it open with a toss of her hand, revealing the buttoned red plaid shirt beneath it. "Well, it's more like flannel."

A smirk sprawled across Regina's face, her attempt at teasing apparently thwarted by Emma's golden retriever-like obliviousness.

"Would you just listen?" Emma drawled, exasperated already. She knew Regina was in one of her better moods, hence the banter, but she needed her to be still for a moment and to pay attention. "I have to tell you something."

"Alright, go on then."

"I have a son."

Regina's eyes went wide with that. "Remind me to never doubt your ability to keep a secret, Miss Swan…"

Emma left some space in the conversation for that to sink in before she continued. Since Regina would be staying with her until she was settled with a new living arrangement, Emma thought it best to lay down some ground rules. Her home was her only sanctuary, and rarely did anyone ever enter it without a great deal of forethought on the matter, sometimes taking any number of months to a year for Emma to decide.

"You're likely to see some stuff at my place that belongs to a kid, so I figured I'd go ahead and get it out of the way. He's thirteen and very curious, which is also the reason why he won't be there." Emma explained, having left Henry with Granny just an hour or so before heading to the county jail. The way he had clung to her like he used to when he was a much younger child made her heart split in two, and despite her spirits being somewhat lifted at the sight of Regina without a chain dragging between her feet, it still hadn't managed to grow back together. Emma had done her best to explain to him that she wasn't leaving town again, but only that it was a good idea that he stayed with Granny and Ruby until she figured some things out. He didn't seem to believe her, which only crushed her further. There were just some things that Emma wasn't willing to subject him to, not at his age. Not like she had been. That was her choice to make.

"What's his name?" Regina asked.

Emma's breath hitched at the question. Why had she half-expected Regina not to care? She hadn't exactly been prepared for talking more about her son with a woman who was still practically a stranger past the mere fact that he did indeed exist.

"Henry."

Regina bowed her head thoughtfully. "Distinguished." Then she twisted in her seat toward the window as if she couldn't stand to have Emma look at her. "My father's name was Henry."

Emma paused, shocked. It seemed that they were both skilled at playing things close to the vest. It was quite the coincidence, but Emma still couldn't shake that damned fated feeling every time she was within speaking distance of the other woman. The blonde pulled in a long sigh through her button nose and turned the key in her ignition. "Then I was right. It's a good name."

Regina tried to hide it, but Emma caught a glimpse of a small smile through the reflection in the window glass.

"You ready?" She asked.

"Yes." Regina replied. "But also, no."

Emma chuckled, pushing the clutch in and pressing on the gas with one foot and then the other. The transmission lurched, drawing a familiar and already exhausted look of concern upon Regina's face.

It took a while to make it from the county jail through to the other side of the city. The sun had begun to set, and Emma plucked a pair of aviator sunglasses to match her jacket from where they were folded up into a visor. The city of Sugar Land was now mostly in her rearview mirror as she drove closer toward the outskirts of historic plantation land, with Henry's school soon passing on the right. Regina would need a few things from home —or what used to be her home— if she were to begin a new life elsewhere. When Emma eventually passed the gate and drove up the long two-lane drive toward the massive estate and parked, the dark-haired woman made no effort to move, or to even blink.

"I've changed my mind. We can go."

"Okay, just think about this for a second—"

"I can always buy a new wardrobe."

Emma tossed her hands in the air from where they sat on her steering wheel. "Now be serious, Regina, we're not going all the way to the outlet mall just because you can't take ten minutes to stuff a suitcase."

"One does not stuff Oscar de la Renta." Regina deadpanned. "And fine."

"You'll be alright." Emma said reassuringly. "Besides, the best way out is always through." Dark eyes swung around to their left again to gawk at the blonde. "What? I can read, remember?" Emma insisted.

"Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Swan." Regina replied as she climbed out and made her way toward the wide columned front of the enormous and ancient looking plantation house.

Emma would sit there in her car and wait while Regina gathered her things for the next few days. She took in her surroundings with a look of amazement on her face at all of the finely trimmed topiary trees, the pillared front of the house and its two-tiered wrap around porch, the huge sycamore trees that surrounded the estate and the spraying fountain she'd driven around to get there that was the size of her living room. Emma would look at all of that and think to herself…

She's not said my name once today.


"This is where you live…?"

The sky was ablaze with a warm and beautiful abendrot when Emma opened the front door of her home. Regina admired the cozy, well-kept house with its tall gables and sharp eaves. It had a refined sort of elegance straight out of the Edwardian period that seemed to suit her tastes, and yet somehow a house was just another thing that reshaped the way she looked at Emma Swan.

"Why the tone of surprise?" The blonde replied, tossing her keys onto a skinny entryway table.

"Oh, I—"

"It's alright." Emma chuckled. "It was built like a million years ago and is constantly falling apart, but the payments aren't so bad when I can find consistent work."

"Hm."

Over the past three months Emma had come to visit her frequently. What had begun as a plea for help kept the interesting (and ruggedly attractive) bounty hunter coming back, if for nothing else other than to just spend time. Despite their rough beginnings, Regina had come to regard Emma as a friend… If she wasn't busy second-guessing what a friend actually was, that is. Sidney had been by far her best example, so Regina labeled him the standard in that aspect. Patience, kindness, understanding, and a brand of humor that could literally fit no one else on earth… like Sidney, Emma checked all of those boxes. Even after all of her snark on days where she had felt very rough and dowdy in her awful beige jail clothes, Emma just kept coming back.

She had been sure of many things, but the one thing that kept her lying awake most nights —her god awful hard bunk and thin, scratchy sheet of a blanket having little to do with it— was the question: Why her?

"It's actually very lovely." Regina admitted, turning back and forth on her heels in the drawing room where Emma had set all four of her very large suitcases.

Emma huffed a breath as she straightened her back, blowing a few loose hairs away from her eyes. "I'll show you the guest room in a minute. Thankfully, it's downstairs."

"May I take a moment in your powder room first?" Regina asked, tousling her slightly longer hair over the tops of her shoulders like a fine horsehair brush.

"Down the hall, first door to the left."

"Thank you." Regina said, doing her best not to scurry. She needed a break from the way Emma made her heart skip a beat every time she so much as opened her mouth, but a lady does not scurry.

All she needed was a few moments to collect herself. The day had been such a shock to her senses already. Regina swung into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself with a quiet -click- and a small breath of relief, then she opened her eyes toward a wide mirror above a sink. Mirrors had been hard to come by in jail, having only the reflective surface of a door or the odd metal plate bolted to a wall, and she realized then just how strange it was to really see herself for the first time in months. She dove into one of her small, zippered bags and spent some time getting reacquainted with her expensive brushes and pencils that painted the smooth valleys and lines of her face. Deciding to leave her lips bare of their usual vivid red, she instead sprang for the small tube of clear gloss that rolled around the bottom of her bag. It was just an evening to enjoy and to be still on, Regina reminded herself. She could get back to her shades of red and purples another day. For now, it was just good to be out in the world.

With her head up and shoulders back, Regina left the confines of the little hall bathroom to return to Emma when a stiff -clang- that seemed to reverberate upwards in the moderately sized house turned her head around a corner and into a smaller, more intimate sitting room. She saw a two cushioned loveseat which sat in front of a fireplace, where Emma stood alongside rolling a log around with a poker. The blonde's head craned upward when Regina sauntered into the room with a curious expression.

"It's an old house… You light a fire in here and the whole place is warm." Emma explained. "I hope it's okay for now, I don't like to turn on the heat unless it's absolutely necessary."

It was still unseasonably cold for spring; Regina did have to admit. A fire sounded pleasant. "It warms the upstairs too?" She asked.

Emma nodded proudly. "All the way to the third floor, but that's basically a converted attic which doubles as Henry's room." She cleared her throat then. "That's uh- that'll be an area I'll ask you to steer clear of while you're here. Second floor's fine, that's my bedroom, an extra bathroom, and an office where I sort of work, but I actually do most of that down here in the kitchen. Down that hall—" Emma pointed with her eyes, "…if you keep going past that half bath to the left, there's a guest bedroom and a door straight ahead to the west end of the porch. Just above that is a balcony porch on the second floor, but I wouldn't suggest going up there- it's falling through in some places. Not safe." Emma poked the fire one last time, seeming to be satisfied with it.

Regina leaned out from under of the archway of the little retreat of a room to peer across the house toward the kitchen. She spied a small round table with two chairs, all white with blue cushions and matching cloth which rested in front of a large bay window.

"You must enjoy the light from the window there…" Regina mused out loud and then yanked her focus back to Emma who stood with her hands in the front pockets of her straight blue jeans. "…for when you work." She finished.

"I suppose I do." Emma smiled.

Regina suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. They had stopped talking and Emma's smile hadn't yet faded from her face. She gulped and then folded her hands together as if to warm them from the heat coming from the hearth just on the other side of the couch. Thankfully, Emma must have clocked her awkwardness and chose that moment to speak again.

"You need a drink." The blonde said matter-of-factly and began toeing off her long, black boots one at a time before stepping over to a small wet bar at the wall behind her.

"I do?" Regina asked.

Emma continued opening several glass paned doors along the narrow bar with an annoyed sort of growl and then she seemed to abandon it altogether, choosing to whisk herself out of the room beyond another arch and back in the matter of moments. She returned to the bar and then clinked around it carefully, pouring from a decanter two measures of amber liquid which Regina assumed (or hoped, at least) was a finely aged bourbon.

"Sit." Emma said, tossing her head over her shoulder at the couch with an accompanying swish of her long, golden ponytail.

That first night Regina had spent with Emma giving her a command to "sit" in a chair came rushing back, nearly making her stumble forward. A heat pooled low in her belly and radiated further down between her thighs.

She has no idea what that does to me.

No idea at all…

It was a good thing that Emma's back was still turned to her, because there was no way she would have been able to conceal her very visceral reaction. She'd barely managed to do so the first time. Regina walked around the end of the short couch and sat, leaning down to slip off her shiny black pumps and placing them under the tiny end table nearby. The cowhide rug beneath her feet was a beautiful white color with a large symmetrical splash of brown, perfect in every way. Its short hairs struck a foreign sort of texture against the thin stocking-covered soles of her feet. Soft, yet sharp.

Before Regina knew it, Emma sat on the cushion beside her with that practiced sense of comfortability she so envied. The blonde did seem so unflappable most of the time, which unnerved Regina greatly… Except of course when their lives had been in danger, then she had been equal amounts of grit, tenacity, and teeth.

Emma extended a hand to offer her a teacup as she slunk back comfortably into the corner of the couch. Regina stared for a moment, puzzled.

"Whiskey in a teacup?" She asked.

Emma huffed a small laugh which bounced her shoulders, then she wriggled slightly to sit up out of her pillowy corner. "It's a compliment, trust me. Plus, I can't find any of my good bourbon glasses."

Regina released the tight, incredulous pinch of her brow and turned the cup in her hand, further examining it. "Mine has a chip in it."

"Would you rather drink out of a bowl?"

"A chipped cup is fine." Regina replied without skipping a beat of Emma's playful tone. She took a tentative sip and then tossed her brow in recognition. "Very nice." Pale, jade-colored eyes turned in her direction again with the sound of a pleased hum. "It would appear that you do have good taste after all, Swan."

"Very funny." The blonde replied with a teasing monotone. "Bourbon's the first thing I learned how to spend real money on. You definitely get what you pay for." Emma said, circling the bottom of her own teacup in her downturned hand.

Regina still couldn't get past just how relaxed Emma looked. Perhaps since it was clear that this was the one place she truly felt at home, it was here that the blonde could allow herself to unwind in a way that not many other people got to witness. Regina suddenly felt very lucky.

"So—" Not quite comfortable enough yet for silence, she searched for something else close to idle conversation. "How long have you been here?"

Emma licked her lips after another taste from her cup and set it down upon her knee calmly. "This place? Mmm, Henry was about five…? Before that we were living at an inn near a diner I like."

"So how does your Massachusetts license plate fit into the picture?"

"Oh—" Emma laughed. "Yeah, that's where I got the car. Never bothered to change the plates, I guess..."

"What brought you all the way up there?"

"I thought—" Emma's eyes darted to the fireplace for a moment. "I went looking for my biological family there. I thought I had found something… but it turned out I was wrong." She sighed then, tipping her cup against her lips once more. "I can find tax evaders, car thieves, bank robbers and all sorts of people, but no matter how hard I look, or where, they're the ones I've never been able to track down. I was pregnant and just wanted… I don't know—"

"To have people?" Regina asked tentatively. She had been wary of prying into the blonde's past ever since their intense encounter at the lake, but she simply couldn't help the fact that she found Emma absolutely fascinating. She rocked back her cup and finished the last sip of her whiskey, and then turned it on its side to run her thumb mindlessly over its chipped edge. Emma noticed and took it from her hand, where a thumb brushed slightly over her own. The touch alone —though just a fraction of a seconds' worth— sent a jolt through Regina's every nerve ending on that hand.

Emma stayed silent while she stood at the bar to pour her another drink. Regina wondered if perhaps she was being a bit too familiar… Though, this woman had spent the past three months learning all there was to know about her, so wasn't it only fair that Regina asked a few questions of her own? It occurred to her then that maybe Emma just wasn't open to sharing that part of herself. Not with anyone. Not ever.

Really, why can't you just let it go?

"I mean, I guess so." Emma answered, sitting back down beside her. "Here—" She handed Regina her chipped cup and wallowed back into the couch again. Her face bore a calm expression, though Regina knew she had hit a nerve just seconds earlier. How on earth Emma could always keep such a cool exterior most of the time, Regina hadn't a clue. Perhaps the blonde was even better than herself at keeping a straight face.

Incredible…

Emma pulled a deep breath through her nose, expanding her chest before sinking back into the cushions. "To be honest, I've never felt like I belonged anywhere. Makes it hard to stay put… Can't say I've ever really had a plan, either."

Regina could relate to that. Her entire life had been laid out for her since birth. Finish school… Marry rich… Carry on the fortune...

"Well. You seem settled to me." She added.

"Do I?" Emma asked, giving her a heartfelt smile. When she finished her drink and tilted her head against her arm that was bent along the top of the couch, she looked at Regina again in the way that made her heart beat just a little bit faster. The dark-haired woman felt a bit more color paint her cheekbones then as she flushed a bit… Who needed blush when you had Emma Swan and her annoyingly handsome smile?

"You do." Regina tried a smile of her own. "I, however, find myself at the very opposite end of that statement, for once. I'm afraid that I'm swimming in unfamiliar waters now."

"Don't worry. I won't let you drown." Emma said as she stood, apparently needing to put some distance between them again.

Was it the whiskey or the fire that made her feel a bit warmer now? Regina pulled the hem of her dress further over her thighs as she crossed one leg over the other. Emma poured herself another drink and then turned at the bar to lean back against it, placing the palms of her hands at its edge just above her hips.

"I gotta know…" Emma shook her head. "What really made you run?"

Regina wanted to laugh. Finally, some levity in the conversation. She could work with that. "Oh, I suppose I was scared, Swan. I'd just been arrested for my husband's murder."

"But your hearing was a piece of cake? If you had a lawyer like that the whole time—"

"I didn't." Regina answered. The blonde merely rocked her head with a curious tilt, and then Regina gave a long sigh. "Kathryn is a family friend and also the company lawyer… Or, one of them, rather. I had just assumed that I was on my own, seeing as how quickly everyone had already determined that I was guilty."

Emma nodded, walking back to the couch. "With a case that draws that much news, people tend to want results as fast as possible. It's not ideal and can sometimes get messy, but most of the time things tend to work themselves out in the end."

"Unbelievable…" Regina said with a short huff of a breath.

Green eyes darted toward her again. "…What?"

"How do you always do that?" Regina asked.

"Do what?"

"Make everything make sense?"

Emma frowned with another nod of her head and then sat down beside her again, this time making less of an effort to stuff herself completely into her corner of the couch. "I dunno. It's a coping skill?"

"Well—" Regina paused to take a long draw from her cup, admiring the way the bold, woody taste of the bourbon settled upon her tongue like a warm blanket. "By all means, please keep doing it."

Regina couldn't believe it at first, but she finally felt sort of relaxed. Nothing weighed heavily on her mind and her chest wasn't as tight with apprehension as it usually was… It felt nice to just be for once. Emma was leaning back against the couch with her arm laid across the top of its cushions again— but she was so much closer now.

The back of Emma's hand brushed softly against Regina's neck, and her fingertips teased into her hair as if she were inspecting a fine bolt of cloth. "It grew back fast…" She said softly after a long moment, her eyes falling to where her thumb and forefinger rolled between them the dark ends of Regina's hair.

Regina knew by the heat that raced beneath her skin that she was either slightly buzzed from the drinks, or that what Emma was doing was bound to set her on fire. How was it even humanly possible to have that much of an effortless sort of confidence? Did Emma Swan even get nervous?

"Three months is still three months." Regina replied. Why did it feel like the couch beneath her was about to drop out and send her falling endlessly into the bowels of the earth?

The space between them seemed to buzz as Regina watched Emma's strikingly beautiful eyes flit calmly between her own. The blonde seemed to be content just to stare at her like that for the rest of the evening, that is until she gave several sudden and rapid blinks of her lashes and drew her hand away as if realizing it shouldn't have been there at all.

No…

Please—

Regina hadn't expected to reach across and grab at Emma's wrist as it slunk away from her along the top of the couch. It surprised them both and Emma looked to her again, startled by her quick reaction.

"I know I'm not your prisoner anymore…" Regina whispered.

Oh, but I absolutely am—

"…So… you could kiss me now, if you wanted to."

Emma's jaw dropped just slightly, parting her lips with an attractive gape.

That damnable skill the blonde had of masking her own reactions seemed to possess a fault after all. Regina realized that it was only when she made audible her desires that she could find a crack in the stone-faced façade of the woman sitting beside her. She knew a way in now, and she'd take up every inch of it.

The cup in her hand was suddenly gone, discarded atop the small end table just out of reach. She hadn't even noticed that Emma had taken it from her. Emma's intense focus on her lips spoke of a beast inside, caged and clawing its way toward an escape, and Regina wondered for a split-second if she had just set it loose… Though, she would throw herself down like prey if only Emma would make a move to take her. The blonde merely sat very still with her fists clenched tightly and her jaw set. Regina was amazed at how willing she was to beg her. She'd never begged anyone for anything, not until Emma Swan came crashing through her life like a gorgeous wrecking ball. She took one of Emma's hands into her lap then and pulled, bringing her close enough to feel the shallow breaths that passed one by one between her lips.

"Will you kiss me, Emma?" Regina asked, her voice thick and liquid. Emma nodded wordlessly, unable to tear her eyes away from Regina's mouth still. "Because I wa—"

Unable to finish her sentence, Emma leaned forward and swallowed her very last word. Finally… Regina muted a small noise of surprise into Emma's lips as the back of her head pressed further into the couch. Past the initial tactile shock, a long-awaited exhaled breath of relief was shared between them in a low, harmonized hum. Finally, finally, finally. A quick hand at the back of Regina's hip brought her closer, and she drew her legs up onto the couch to fold beneath herself. Emma seemed to kiss Regina with the same kind of determination that had followed her across the entire country: Burning, relentless, and uncompromising. If she continued kissing her just like that, Regina would end up running into a melted puddle onto the floor before long…

Needing breath, Emma backed away for a few short gasps before Regina threw her arms around the back of her head, trapping her closely enough to whisper breathily against her mouth. "Now, take my clothes off."


Blessed be the caged beasts. Emma fucked with a purpose.

For all of her late night imagining and reckless daydreaming, Regina had seriously underestimated Emma's ability to unravel her. At least she didn't have to beg anymore… As if she could even find the words. Not only did Emma's remarkable sense of strength surprise her, but it was also the mindfulness behind it whenever she put her hands anywhere on Regina's body. Not too rough, yet not too gentle, and the way she put her mouth on her… Just right. She wasn't even sure how her dress had come off, but that mattered little with Emma's fingers inside of her as she rode her way toward a shaky oblivion. How it felt so good right off the bat was astonishing, and Regina realized soon enough that she'd need to focus hard on staving off her orgasm—

"Fuck…" Emma swore between her breasts when Regina began to grow tighter around her fingers.

…Or she could just cum in Emma's lap and save herself the trouble of trying to deny it.

"Ah—" Regina cried out, their melodic and breathy rhythm breaking with the erratic jerk of her hips. Before she could even consider stopping it, her back arched with a severe curve and Emma was pinned inside of her. Everything went pitch black behind her eyelids then, leaving only the little moans and praises which were uttered into the crook of her neck as she came.

It was agonizing and at the same time quite like rapture. The way Regina's consciousness folded in on itself for those blessed few seconds were, if anything, nearer to biblical proportions than anything she'd ever read or experienced before. That first little death she spent on top of Emma Swan was like coming face to face with God.

Emma had allowed her a moment to shudder helplessly before she found herself on her back as soon as she could blink her eyes open again, a tear each rolling from their corners. She vaguely remembered pulling Emma's shirt over her head and watching the beautiful cascade of blonde hair that fell beneath it, but the way Emma climbed on top of her and kissed her again made the chaotic thought traffic in her head come to a complete standstill. Regina's senses were overwhelmed, and her body reacted to Emma's every touch in a way that she would have never even dreamed of. Her legs came apart with a push of a thigh, and Emma wrapped them around her hips as if she had done so hundreds of times before. How was it that all of it felt so right?

Emma rocked forward with a languid and throaty moan beside her ear, "I want you to cum for me again..."

Regina shook her head, trembling like a reed in the wind. "I don't think I can…"

She should have learned by now, especially when it came to Emma: When in doubt, expect the impossible. Nothing seemed to stand in the way of what the blonde wanted. She had Regina first on her back and then on her knees, and before long Emma's name came tumbling out of her mouth like a needle skipping against a broken record.

"Emma—"

"Don't stop…"

"God- yes, please—"

"Fuck, Emma…"

She came two more times after that, with Emma finally snapping forward and writhing on top of her. It seemed to go on forever. Emma had fucked her senseless on the soft cowhide rug until she was a boneless heap, sweat pooling in the hollow notch beneath her neck and dragging in deep enough breaths that made her dizzy with over oxygenated blood. It had been years since Regina had enjoyed the way her body felt pressed up against someone else's, and after settling into a satisfied and breathy embrace inside of Emma's arms, she began to feel the deep pull of sleep as it worked to overcome her.

With a yawn, Regina was able to slip back into her ruffled dress and accept some water from her chipped cup before her eyes finally began to slam shut. They'd spent hours in front of the hearth's small fire, and soon enough, the heaviness she felt in her arms made her content to sleep there. Emma seemed agreeable enough to stay downstairs with her by the way she tucked a throw pillow beneath her head with one hand and wrapped the other around her middle. She was so tired, and Emma felt so warm…

Regina just prayed that she hadn't already been dreaming.


A door slammed open, knocking hard against the wall behind it.

"Pack your shit and get the hell out of my house."

Emma wasn't even surprised. She'd given up by now. It was because of things like this that her backpack was always ready to go at a moment's notice.

The woman who came attached to the booming voice followed Emma as she moved around in the room with no real sense of urgency. "If I had known what a thieving little shit you were, I would have never let you into my home. We fed you, we—"

"Look, lady…" Emma stopped and turned around. "I get that you think I stole something. You don't have to scream down my neck about it. You told me to leave and that's what I'm doing."

"You've got five minutes before I call the cops."

"You're insane." Emma snarled, pushing past her through the door.

The only other open door in the hall filled with the outline of another girl her age, winking at Emma as she stomped past. The girl flashed her a folded stack of money and then licked her thumb to flip through the bills with a vicious and ugly smirk.

"Fucking bitch, thanks a lot." Emma heard herself say as she continued making her way toward the front door.

It wasn't the first time the original child of a house blamed their misdeeds on Emma. She was an easy target, and she hated it. It was like once people figured out that she had no family and no friends, and no one in her corner to believe her even if she could get her side of the story out, all they saw was an opportunity to do whatever they wanted to her. People can do some pretty twisted shit when they know that they can get away with it. And they did. Frequently. Emma wondered if too much more of this would make her hate other humans when she was older, because she was certainly well on her way there.

"If you think you can go and cry to one of the neighbors after this you—"

"Shut up!" Emma screamed as she reached the front door, turning around to face the voice behind her again. "God, I wish you were dead, and I don't even know you! I don't care! Leave me alone, all of you!"

It felt good to finally say what she felt. Emma honestly didn't know if she meant it or not, but she said it anyways. If anything, it was the only thing that made her fucking feel better. It wouldn't make a damn bit of a difference whether it was true or not. Nobody would care. Nobody would listen. Nothing she did mattered. She had two years left before she turned eighteen and then the state would dump her back out on the street. At least they'd stop tracking her down and dragging her back to places she didn't want to be in the first place.

Emma knew she wanted to disappear.

She had wanted to for a long time now.

When she was done seeing red, her eyes struggled to focus on the woman's face. Who was she again? The edges of Emma's vision began to blur then with a sort of liquid push and pull, and slowly the figure standing in front of her began to melt from the top down and drip onto the floor.

"What the—"

A gagged scream came out of the mouth of the disintegrating body as its throat folded in on itself, and an arm drooped low and slunk out of its socket.

"Stop it…! What's wrong with you?!"

The more Emma shouted, the more she was unable to breathe. It was as if the air was made of lava. Emma tried hard not to focus on the dissolving person that cried in agony in front of her and instead looked at her own quickly melting hands. They dripped onto the floor from her fingertips, pooling into a deliquescent, murky pinkish mess. She tried breathing again and managed a strangled scream of her own.

"Help!"

Emma gasped as she shot upward, coughing so hard that she worried her next breath would be her last. Her heart was racing faster than it ever had before in her life. She blinked into the dim light of the room and felt the hide rug beneath the palms of her hands then, feeling thankful beyond words to be at home and not in the nightmarish hellscape that was one of the most intense dreams about her childhood she'd ever had. She blinked again, wanting to cough more as the pain inside of her chest had not gone away.

Something was wrong.

The more Emma tried to breathe, the more her lungs burned. Her eyes were on fire, so she rubbed at them— which only made it worse. The glow from the fire was gone, so it couldn't have been the chimney… and there was a foul smell on the air, too. She knew carbon monoxide to be odorless. Emma tried to climb to her knees after another confused moment but slumped over to her side and fell across a lump on the floor beside her. A body.

"Regina…" Emma realized. She shook her by the hip, the motion lagging in her vision much like it had when she'd drank Regina's spiked tea months ago. It was easily a thing she'd never forget, but this felt different. This felt like the air had been poisoned instead, and Regina still wasn't moving.

It was difficult, but Emma steadied herself long enough to place two fingers over the carotid of the dark-haired woman's neck to find a pulse. The rhythmic beat there was slow, but strong.

She had to do something.

They needed to get out of the house, and fast.

It took many tries and felt like hours to do so, but Emma got to her feet long enough to crash into another room and against a wall. She found a window to swipe at with both of her hands, coming up empty the first few times. Then, in a fit of desperation and a growl past the burning feeling that crept down her throat, she threw caution to the wind and put her fist through a square pane of glass. A -whoosh- sound with the sucking of air went through with her cut hand, and the cold from the outside began to filter in. Emma dropped to her knees and began to almost instantly feel better as the fresh air entered her lungs, though her dizziness still rolled around in her head like a loose marble. It faded little by little, but it was still hard to tell which way the ceiling was and which way the floor was. Emma could have been walking upside down for all she knew as she stumbled back over to Regina in the retreat.

She hadn't moved and Emma began to panic, which was a feeling that she despised. Panicking only served to make matters worse. A long time ago, she had mastered the art of quelling the storm inside of her during situations that she most definitely wanted to panic in, and most days she was a brick wall… But right now? Emma was a scared little girl again.

"Regina!" Emma shouted after her ears had begun to ring. She hoped that it was a good sign of her continued consciousness… But really, there was no way to tell. She pulled at Regina's arm to turn her over and onto her back just as a very loud -bang- came from the back of the house like a clap of thunder.

Emma froze.

Her vision had cleared enough to make out the walls and beams of her house where they had previously been dancing a hula just a few short moments before, and she leaned carefully into the foyer to look across the open floor toward the back. The door just beyond the kitchen shook violently in its frame when another deafening -bang- against it rocked the nearby cupboards.

Emma couldn't believe it.

Someone was kicking her door down.