11.
Regina sleeps soundly for what feels like the first time in weeks. But her sleep is never peaceful. Not when a lifetime of trauma keeps pushing the faint line that separates dreams from reality every time she closes her eyes, and sometimes long after her eyes are open.
For the longest time coming back to consciousness didn't offer any relief to the former queen, and even if this is the case now, it is still difficult for her to dispose of such heavy baggage.
It's the twitching, as well as the incoherent mumbling, that wakes Emma up.
It's not like there's enough room for Regina to toss and turn, but the fact that there's virtually no space between their bodies makes Regina's heartbeats sound much like an alarm clock.
When Emma opens her eyes, it's to the feeling of a throbbing headache spreading through her temples like wildfire as well as the warmth of Regina's body in a tangle of limbs and naked flesh under a flimsy sheet that barely covers one person, let alone the two of them. Her hair, dark and matted, is now long enough to provide her some modesty, falling down her chest in striking contrast to the hue of her skin, and while there's a part of Emma that feels like she should take this moment in, there's also a sense of urgency as Regina's erratic breathing seems at the brink of shattering her much-needed rest.
Using a hand as protection for her sensitive eyesight, Emma allows herself to take in her surroundings. The sunlight bright on the outside insinuates itself through the cracks in the ship's walls, undoing seamlessly what before was darkness.
Emma doesn't know what time it is, but if the sun's up already, it won't be long before her mother or one of the boys notices her absence.
Or worse, catches them red-handed.
Panic jolts through her veins leaving a frosty sensation on its path, and even with the effects of her drunken spree flaring up spectacularly, Emma's rational brain urges her to abandon the comfort of Regina's arms however inviting the idea of staying in may seem.
With her head leaning on her shoulder and her arm possessively stretched over her torso, Regina grumbles an unintelligible protest at the blonde's slightest movement. But Emma persists, and with the utmost care not to wake her up, eventually manages to break free.
Just not without tumbling down from the narrow bed the two shared.
Grimacing and sure that the loud thump of her fall has given her away, Emma shuts her eyes and waits but nothing happens. After a few seconds, she allows herself to open one eye and realizes that, luckily, Regina seems to remain asleep, having now taken possession of the pillow Emma's left behind, and turned her back to the door.
Then, as quietly as possible, Emma hastily puts her clothes back on and makes her way out of the room, pleased to be able to escape, even though her hangover is enough to hinder any other thoughts she might have.
Upon hearing the sound of the door closing, Regina rolls on the bed once more, dark eyes wide awake as she simply stares at the lowered ceiling in the small room.
Emma's actions, not for the first time, proving to be beyond the former queen's comprehension.
.::.
The route between Regina's room and hers has never seemed so long but with careful footsteps, Emma walks through the narrow corridor with eyes half-closed, hoping not to be caught by any of the other crew members of the ship.
She knows, with the certainty of one who has shared a roof with the same person for the past five years, that Snow will not be found in the cabin they share. The assumption, born in the fact that her mother not only happens to be an early bird (and one that so happens to take pleasure in singing along her way) but also because when Snow believes she is right about something, her behavior is usually pretty predictable. One of her most common tactics in fact is to give time and space until the other party understands the greatness of her actions – always for the greater good – or the magnitude of their own mistakes.
One doesn't have to be a genius to realize a big problem with this tactic: the stubbornness Emma has inherited from Snow herself.
Maybe that's why, instead of coming to terms with what happened to David, the two of them ended up sweeping the problem under the rug, preferring to ignore the issue that would inevitably cause a rift between mother and daughter.
Upon entering the cabin, it takes Emma no more than a quick look for her suspicions to be proven correct. Much as she predicted, Snow is not around.
Unfortunately, there is someone else there. Someone very much aware of her absence. And patiently waiting for her return.
Sitting on her mother's bunk, with a mug in one hand and an unreadable expression, Henry greets her with a simple nod.
"Hey, Ma."
.::.
"Killian," Ruby's voice is almost a whisper carried in the darkness of their room as she gently attempts to awaken her bedmate.
The pirate, however, remains immovable, much like a corpse if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest and the light snoring.
Ruby rolls her eyes. Patience has never been one of her virtues.
"KILLIAN!" She calls out and to ensure that he wakes up this time around pokes him sharply as well.
Jumping out of the bed wielding the arm in which one would normally find his infamous hook – an item that now is properly put away every night in a small wooden box near their bed after an incident involving nightmares and an angry wolf, he moves instinctively, eyes still half-closed.
"Onward!", he shouts to no one specifically.
"Stop that, you meathead," Ruby orders, unimpressed with his moves, her mood softened by what compelled her to wake him up in the first place. "Now, come here or you'll miss it!"
Hook opens his eyes then, trying to reconcile what's going on. "What is it, luv?"
Impatiently, Ruby pulls him by the arm and puts the pirate's only hand over her belly.
He seems somewhat confused at first, but after a few moments, her efforts are rewarded once she sees the dumbfounded expression on Killian's features.
"That's..." He gets lost amidst words, which could very well be an event by itself, a dumb smile brightening his whole face.
Ruby can't help but smile too. "That's our baby."
For the longest time, the two remain motionless, identical smiles fixed on their faces, while the looks they exchange share a joy that cannot be described, one neither had ever thought they would live to experience.
With her hand still over Killian's, Ruby bites her lower lip before saying, "I think this means we're ready to go."
Hook still has his eyes fixed on Ruby's belly as if he could see at that moment all that the future has yet to offer them.
"Time to sail." He concurs - the excitement he's feeling only slightly damped by his own apprehension, but some things are better left unsaid.
.::.
Sporting some major bedhead and wearing the same clothes from the previous evening, Emma remains static at first, her mouth hanging open as if waiting for a plausible explanation to simply find its way out.
Unfortunately, her brain is not working in sync with the rest of her body, and the result is an awkward moment of staggering silence that lasts far too long.
"Wow, you sure look like hell," Henry remarks with a grimace that should be sympathetic and offers his mom a mug containing a steaming liquid, something he's brought specially for her.
"Gee, thanks." The gesture, thoughtful and yet too knowing, is enough to wake Emma from her torpor. Taking a step forward, she accepts the mug. "So, your grandma sent you?"
"Yes, apparently she had a feeling you could use some of her special tea this morning." Suppressing an urge to curse, Emma does her best to police her reactions and keep a neutral expression.
"She said that, huh?"
Henry settles back on Snow's bed, leaning on the wall while his long legs easily touch the ground. Emma can't help but be impressed by how much he's grown in the last couple of years.
He's already taller than Regina (which is not particularly impressive, it's true) but at this speed, a few more inches and he'll be looking down on her too. The little boy who knocked on her door so long ago, nothing but a memory these days.
"What happened?" He asks with his eyes fixed on the bedspread, but Emma knows that he will be attentive to her answer, his observant and curious nature one of the few constants in their lives.
After all these years living together, Emma knows that although the boy has come to grant her the title of mother as well, Henry sees her primarily as someone whom he can trust, the strong bond of friendship that exists between the two strengthened mainly by the fact that they don't lie to each other. Ever.
That's why lying now is far from an option. But that doesn't mean she's ready to talk about any of it either, being that her relationship with Regina or her relationship with her own mother.
Thus, Emma speaks the truth but does her best not to delve into territory that she is not ready to step in just yet. "It was Killian's rum. That thing is worse than poison. I honestly don't know how he's still alive."
Henry doesn't question her answer, for which Emma is thankful, but he frowns for a brief instant, his eyes seemly able to notice everything his mother is trying to conceal, or at the very least what she's not willing to reveal.
He may not know exactly what it is, but he's far too perceptive not to realize that something's off.
With the mug in hand, Emma looks away, hiding behind a sudden interest in its content before taking a cautious sip.
Her grimace is a perfect picture of how disgusting the drink is.
She gulps it all in one go, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand once the mug is empty. "Are you all set?"
"There wasn't much to pack." Henry shrugs saying no more, and Emma realizes that there may be something else behind this little visit.
Something she probably would have noticed before if she hadn't spent the last few days so tangled in her own personal issues.
Regina would call her an idiot if she was there (but not in that affectionate way Emma has grown used to), and now she finds herself inclined to agree with the sentiment.
"So..." She draws out, slightly unsure. Words have never really been her thing, after all. "There's nothing wrong with getting cold feet, you know… We're about to take a big step without knowing exactly where we are heading. That's… something to consider."
"Yeah, that makes me feel so much better." He says not quite meeting her eyes, and Emma knows it's just a façade. And, sure enough, it doesn't take long for him to bite. "Where do you think the portal will take us?"
They have been so worried about escaping at any cost that up to this moment, it hasn't occurred to her to think about what the destination will be, or even what might be waiting for them on the other side.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know either, kid. Maybe the Enchanted Forest, if it's still out there. But who knows? We might as well end up somewhere else. Wonderland, Neverland, Oz, Hogwarts... You know I know very little about the whole magic scene, but the one thing I do know is that it's never a straight line when it comes to it and there's a very big chance it won't be now as well. To be honest I think not even your mom knows for sure what our final stop will be this time around."
"Well, as long as there are no zombies, it's already something, right? And at least we'll be together." Henry's words cut Emma from the inside, and she simply offers her son a despondent smile. Her hand stroking one of his bony knees, attempting to provide him with some comfort.
"You got that right, kid."
.::.
After spending the better part of the early morning holed up in her cabin – and if the reason for it is a certain apprehension on her part as to crossing paths with a certain former sheriff, that's something Regina would never admit – it gets harder and harder to ignore her stomach's rumblings as she stubbornly insists on continuing to read her notes once more, revisiting the more specific details of their grand plan.
In fact, Regina is valiantly fighting a losing battle against a particularly long paragraph as certain thoughts insist on haunting her in the most inconvenient ways when she first hears the signs of turmoil coming from outside her closed quarters.
Intrigued by what may be happening – and partly fearing this may be another attack – the former queen immediately abandons her plans, and as she approaches the ship's deck, the voices become more distraught and clear.
The first thing Regina sees is Henry and his visibly altered state. Her maternal instinct instantly flares up, all her senses suddenly wide awake as she tries to put together the pieces that may reveal the reason for her son's distress. Maybe it's just by force of habit, but immediately Regina's attention falls on Snow's figure.
She should have guessed as much.
With her arms crossed over her chest defensively, Snow shakes her head, refusing to let the appeals of her grandson and her best friend crack her resolve.
The expression on her face, that aggravating martyr look that Regina knows all too well, is at the same time a plea and a barrier that comes between the two parties, and while her voice is inaudible from where the former mayor stands, her intentions seem clear enough; her attempts to explain herself failing miserably.
"Grams, you can't do that!" Henry argues with passion and fury, and Regina can't help but feel a familiar tug inside her chest, memories of every time she was on the opposite side of that speech, an easy target for his stubbornness and iron determination. "You can't just stay behind!"
"Snow, I know you believe you're doing the right thing. But please think about it." Ruby begs, and Regina's attention promptly falls on the figure of the wolf, holding her belly in a vain attempt to protect the baby she's carrying from her well of emotions. The stress of the discussion inevitably affecting both of them.
Hook seems to have the same concerns because he remains only a few steps away from Ruby, his forehead creased with worry although maybe for the first time in his life, he has the good sense to not interfere. Instead, his hand gently seeks Ruby's shoulder as a sign of support and at the same time, a subtle attempt to draw her away from the argument.
"I'm truly sorry, believe me, I am. But you know why I must stay. There's no other way." Snow stresses with resignation, her voice cracking with emotion.
"But you can't! We need to be together!" Henry objects, his grey eyes fuming with frustration and the brink of despair. "We can't lose you too."
The ache Regina feels for him at the very moment is almost devastating.
All this time since her return and her eyes have always been so concerned taking inventory of all the details that adorn this version so different from the boy she had last seen on the day of her conviction. How the register of his voice is lower; The lines of his face, sharper and harder. His calloused hands and the sunburnt skin, his hair longer and kissed by the sun, looking much closer to that of his biological mother.
In so many respects she felt as if she had completely lost the boy she knew as her son.
And yet, at this moment, Regina can't ignore the sight of him, the son she abandoned. Just as she can't ignore all the events, so many of them, consequences of her own actions, that have turned him into this fierce and wounded creature. Mainly, Regina can no longer unsee the marks left by his survival in such a harsh reality, and all the losses suffered, which she knows all too well given the fact that she was the first.
However, even with all her instincts urging her to intervene, Regina remains firmly where she is, resisting bravely her impulses – which says much of the marks time has left in her as well. All that fire that always blew up consuming everything in her path, now a small ember under a vastness of ashes.
Rather than drawing conclusions, she seeks signs, clues, answers.
And she waits.
"Henry, you need to understand, Killian was right. As much as it pains me, I know taking David along is not an option. Not when we need to think about the wellbeing of the whole group. But leaving him behind is not an option for me either." Snow takes a step forward and tries to touch her grandson's face, but the boy steps away, too angry to accept the gesture.
"But Snow, that's not David anymore," Ruby argues, her tears now streaming down her face. "Can't you see that?"
"Maybe not now, Red. But it wasn't always like that. Something horrible has happened and turned him into what he is today. But who can tell what could happen tomorrow? There might be a cure out there. We just need to find it." Regina shudders at Snow's blind optimism, as the woman offers a hand to her best friend. "I could never give up on him. He's still my true love and that's never going to change. No matter what happens."
"But how can I leave you behind, Snow? You're the only family I've got left!" Ruby holds her hand between her own, and if her confession affects Hook, it's impossible to say. He just stays by her side, unwavering.
"Not anymore." Snow's hand touches Ruby's belly, a genuine if doleful smile adorning her rosy lips. "You're about to become a mother. And now you must think about what's best for your family."
"What about your family?" Henry challenges bitterly as if each of his words had been through barbed wire.
Snow frowns for a brief instant as if she's trying to decipher a riddle in the depths of his eyes and when she speaks, it's with a voice filled with melancholy.
The voice of someone who has reflected a lot only to face inevitable defeat. "I am thinking of my family, Henry. That's why you, Emma, and Evan need to go. As much as it pains me to be apart from you guys, I would never have it any other way."
Henry then lets out a sob, much like the little boy Regina remembers all too well, unable to restrain his tears for longer despite all his efforts and ultimately accepting comfort in Snow's touch as she wipes his tears with her bare hands. "I love you with all my heart, my sweet boy. And all I ask is that you never forget that."
"Emma, aren't you going to say anything?" Following Ruby's voice, Regina looks back, only then realizing the sheriff's been there through the whole ordeal.
Standing by the ship's bow, her hardened features don't reveal any emotion.
With a hopeful look, Henry's eyes seek his biological mother, hoping that once again she will assume her role as a savior, expecting what might well be the equivalent of divine intervention.
In fact, everyone present does the same, even Regina.
Emma's reaction, however, takes them by surprise.
Adamantly, Emma declares. "I have nothing else to say to her."
And so, she turns her back, without waiting for the reactions of the others, the chill of her words left hanging in the air long after she's gone.
.::.
The last place where Regina expects to find Emma is back in her own cabin.
And up to the moment Emma notices her arrival, from what Regina gathers, the blonde is also not entirely aware of what she's doing there either. Most likely pushed by a subconscious still battling over everything that has happened and what is yet to come.
Sitting on her bed, Emma plays with an apple, throwing it up only to catch it next with swift dexterity. A tedious game, something to keep herself distracted and perhaps disguise the nervousness of restless hands.
Regina doesn't show herself impressed by her abilities. And even less by her presence, especially given how the last encounter between the two has ended.
"You shouldn't be here." She declares dryly, closing the door upon entering, her quiet footsteps lacking the distinct clicking sound of high heels that used to be her signature.
Emma feels a pang of nostalgia to even remember them. And then she throws the apple up once more. This time, as she catches it, her reaction is to give the fruit a generous bite. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."
The blonde speaks with her mouth full, her stance casual, even relaxed – as someone who's spent enough time around to feel at home. Something in her eyes, though indicates a vague awareness of the impact of her actions and what her presence there once again represents.
Regina doesn't respond right away, contemplating the woman before her and the implications of this visit, not quite able to determine the purpose of all this. That ember that still resides within her, seems to suddenly ignite an old spark - which might as well be the story of their lives - when the next words easily abandon her lips without much thought.
"This coming from someone who usually goes away in the morning without as much as a goodbye or a thank you for the night. How enlightening."
The expression on Emma's face clouds, suddenly unsure.
As Regina suspected, she's not interested in facing the facts. Which only compels her to press the delicate topic much more. "Now at least I understand what brought you here last night in that state."
The comment is made by Regina with no hint of malice or shadow of criticism, her anger dissipating at the same speed as it comes to her.
She is simply being honest, albeit there is something in her tone that implies a feeling of resignation and perhaps even sadness (even if the brunette camouflages the latter with dexterity).
Anyway, her words hit Emma right in, the issue in question a wound still open and bleeding, despite her best efforts to show otherwise.
With her heart hammering in her chest, the blonde sits on the bed, her countenance going tense as she tries to not pour over Regina the long list of profanities that fill her mind at once.
Emma tries to remind herself that Regina, oddly enough, is not the person responsible for all of her fury – even if she doesn't avoid stepping onto it in a way that doesn't seem exactly accidental (which, when it comes to the former mayor and the type of dynamic established between the two, is not exactly a novelty either).
And so, she decides to resist these whims by taking a long deep breath instead of saying exactly what's going through her mind.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Ok. So maybe her efforts are not entirely successful. Her tone only vaguely contained as she spits the words.
"Are you telling me you have no recollection of what happened last night?" Regina raises an eyebrow, knowing very well the answer to that. Emma squirms where she stands, the flushing that spreads across her neck and face providing all the confirmation that Regina needs. "Yes, that's what I thought."
"What do you want, Regina?" It's Emma's turn to ask, although this time around her voice sounds simply too tired, without any hint of the fire that usually accompanies her when the two are having a face-off.
"I just wanted to make sure that-" Regina falters. Her brown eyes losing focus, and not quite looking at Emma when she finishes. "That you are still willing to go through with our plan."
"And why wouldn't I be?" Emma challenges her and Regina almost lets her frustration win despite herself. But before she can say anything else, Emma takes it as a chance to end the discussion before it's truly started. "I'll tell everyone to get ready. The sooner we leave, the better."
Emma then stands up promptly and is already by the door when Regina's words reach her, the kindness in her tone taking her by surprise.
"Emma, before you go..." She hears the brunette hesitate once more as if she's reconsidering what she's about to say. "I know Snow's decision is not easy for you to accept but remember that you are not the only one who has to say goodbye before we leave."
Offering nothing but a categorical silence, Emma leaves the room without looking back, but Regina knows she's heard her, even if it is only by the way the blonde slams the door shut on her way out.
.::.
With her feet firmly planted in front of the door, Emma listens to a voice that resonates through the walls; her melodic timbre painfully familiar.
Instead of knocking and making her way in, she remains motionless, her hands touching the wood that serves as a barrier and protection between her and what is happening on the inside.
Despite being aware of how exposed she is by simply standing there, and that she might get caught at any moment, Emma can't force herself to abandon her post in the gallery, her attention transfixed at the words that are being spoken to ears that are not her own.
In the room, sitting next to her son with her hands stroking his long blond locks, Snow allows herself to memorize the smallest details of this very moment, while she tries to find the right words. "Evan, you know what day is today, don't you?"
Without paying much mind to his mother, Evan seems to have all his attention focused on the toys he has scattered over the bed, a stuffed rabbit that looks about to fall apart, and the wooden horse that Grumpy made for him on his last birthday. Nevertheless, Snow's voice seems to get through to him as he nods affirmatively.
"Very good," Snow says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "But sweetie there is something else you need to know."
Something in her tone gives away the seriousness of the moment because the boy looks at her then, curious green eyes analyzing her features while waiting for what his mom has to say.
The expression on Evan's face is so familiar and distinguished – so similar to his father – that Snow feels her heart skip a beat, much like a bird desperately trying to escape its cage.
The similarities between father and son something she's struggled to not let affect her, which is why, one way or another, her eyes have always avoided resting too long on the figure of her own son – a horrible and brutal truth that has weighed on her conscience for the past five years.
Only this time she can't escape the sight of her child. Not when this may very well be one of her last memories with him.
"Evan, Mama's not going to be part of this great adventure that you're about to go on."
Evan remains silent, but on his forehead, a small wrinkle appears, just over his eyes, as the little boy tries to comprehend the meaning of what she is telling him.
The expression is so natural that immediately in Snow's eyes the similarities with David disappear, giving way to Emma's face. Which somehow manages to make things even more impossible.
Holding back her tears, Snow closes her eyes, forcing her voice to come out despite the knot she feels in her throat.
"You, Henry, and Emma are still going to make the journey. Just like Aunt Red, Killian, Pongo... And Regina as well. But mommy won't be able to go, sweetie. Unfortunately, I have to stay."
When opening her eyes, Snow needs to use all her will so that her resolution doesn't fall apart like a sandcastle. "Look, there's a very good reason why Mama won't be joining you. There's this special mission I've got. Something no one else can do but me. Something you'll probably only understand when you're older."
The image of a grown-up Evan appears in Snow's mind without her consent.
Snow sees him at eight, ten, sixteen years old. His blond hair falling down his shoulders, his father's easy smile, his sister's resourcefulness, the curiosity that always reminds her of the girl that she once has been. A whole future she's not going to be a part of.
She does her best not to cry, which doesn't mean that some tears don't escape either way.
"I have to stay Evan, to preserve what is left of true love in this world." She offers him a bright smile, tears now flowing freely despite her efforts. "Now, sweetie, I know from the bottom of my heart that I don't have to worry. You, my dear, are going to a place where you'll finally have the life you've always deserved! And I know that no matter what Emma and Henry will always be by your side. I just need you to know that Mama loves you so very much, okay? Promise me that no matter what, you will never doubt it, ok? Can you do that? Can you promise me?"
The boy seems to ponder over it for a few moments, but then nods affirmatively, and with a gesture that reassures Snow, he holds her in a tight embrace.
She envelops him then, with a strong grip as if this one hug could repay all the times she didn't have the courage to do it. And all the others in which she will no longer be there to do so.
After some time, when Snow opens the door to leave the room, her face red and her eyes swollen by all the tears she's shed, she finds herself face to face with Emma.
Never before has Snow seen her daughter look so bereft.
On the outside, Emma may seem inscrutable, her expression closed off as to ensure an insurmountable distance between the two. But in her eyes, Snow sees with no mistake all the sorrow and resentment directed at her, all the hurt caused by her. She just wishes there was something she could do about it. A balm she could offer to rid Emma of the pain that is clearly eating her from the inside out.
Unfortunately, this is not an option befitting of the choice she's made.
"I'll never understand how you do that," Emma states with contempt, her voice hoarse, and a razor-sharp look in her eyes. The tone of her voice cutting enough to shatter Snow's heart into a million pieces.
Maybe Emma would take some comfort in knowing that. Her anger, however, does not allow her to see anything beyond the mere fact that her mother is choosing to abandon her.
Again.
Still, with her affection for her daughter winning over any common sense, Snow risks directing her a word one last time, giving her what resembles a handful of platitudes wrapped up in her best and most sincere wishes.
"When you find your true love, Emma, you will."
.::.
They leave in the morning.
Their small and sad caravan leaves behind the ship, the sea, and three members of their crew; Snow decides to stay, out of love. Grumpy, out of loyalty. And Whale claims to be in favor of science and his interest in finding a cure – although most likely harboring more obscure ambitions.
Emma keeps walking, stiff steps, head held high, never looking back.
In fact, none of them do.
.::.
TBC...