"So," Emma started, dropping down on the couch next to Regina, "did you have fun today?"
Regina smiled down into her mug of tea before looking back up at the woman next to her.
"I did. Thank you, Emma, for insisting we go. For insisting that I go. Sometimes…" Regina hesitated, trailing off. She wasn't sure if she wanted to complete her thought.
"Sometimes?" Emma asked gently, encouraging her.
"Sometimes I wish I could be better at this. I wish that I could be… more fun. Henry is such a wonderful child. So loving and energetic. At times I think he would benefit from a parent who could simply have fun with him. I wish I could be like that more easily and more often, for him."
"What keeps you from just letting go?"
Regina glanced down at her mug again.
"So many things."
"Like?"
Regina sighed. She took a sip of the hot liquid, swallowing it slowly in order to buy herself time before answering.
"I don't know how to have fun."
"You did a pretty good job today."
Regina sighed.
"You showed me how. I have a hard time letting go. It's difficult for me to just… to play. I was never one to play."
"Even as a kid?"
Regina shook her head.
"I wasn't permitted to. I didn't go sledding or to parks or participate in activities most children do. I didn't really spend time with my friends. Truly, I hardly had any friends."
Emma looked at her for a long moment.
"What was it like when you were a kid? What were you like?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
Regina eyed her carefully.
"You're my friend, Regina. I want to get to know you. Please. Tell me something. Tell me about what you were like. I wanna hear about it."
"It's not a happy story, Emma."
"I honestly kinda figured that."
Regina sighed again before putting her mug down.
"You really want to know?"
"I do," Emma said sincerely. "Please."
Regina nodded, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before responding.
"My childhood was… difficult. My mother's expectations of me were very high, and I rarely pleased her. On the few occasions that I did, there was no praise, simply the absence of criticism. Sometimes it was even a snippy comment of how obviously I could do whatever it was she wanted me to do, I was simply choosing not to whenever I failed to meet her very high standards."
Regina paused, pressing on her thumb nail as she thought. Emma watched the emotions play across her face but she stayed quiet, though it was heartbreaking to hear the words coming from the woman she cared for so deeply.
"I didn't play," Regina continued. "I rarely was able to have fun. The times I did, it was in secret. My mother dictated nearly all of my time, and everything I did served a purpose, usually revolving around improving my character. I was always a disappointment in my mother's eyes, and she spent my entire life trying to make me less of one. During the week, I attended school, but it was a private school that ran until late in the evening and there were so many more subjects than at a public school. I'd spend the day there, and when I got home, I had to complete all the coursework assigned to us for the day. On the weekend, I attended extra English and grammar lessons, as well as finishing school, so I could 'learn to be a lady', as my mother put it. She said I was constantly embarrassing her at social events because I spoke so poorly and behaved so terribly, so I was made to attend lesson after lesson on how to sit, how to stand, how to walk, how to talk. But no matter how many lessons I attended, no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. I was never enough."
Regina stopped here, swallowing hard. Even decades later, it was hard to come to terms with the fact that her mother would never approve of who she was. That no matter what she did, she'd never be enough, because there was a part of her that her mother was ashamed of. That did not fit in with her mother's idea of a 'woman'. Regina would never be enough for her mother, would never be woman enough, no matter how hard she tried.
Regina had made strides in therapy, had finally gotten to a place where she had come to accept (no matter how painful) that the problem was not her and that there was nothing wrong with her. The problem was her mother. However, there would always be that inner child who longed for her mother's love and approval. And at this moment, that child was hurting with the knowledge that she'd never get it.
"Where was your dad in all this?" Emma asked gently, inadvertently pulling Regina from her thoughts.
"He was working. He was hardly ever around. He was frightened of my mother, I think. She treated him poorly as well. He didn't approve of her treatment of me, and he told me as much frequently. However, he rarely stood up to her. The few times that he did, well, she would be even worse than before. She'd be even more cruel. It finally got to a point where I'd beg him to just leave it, to not interfere, so he stayed away a lot. Working. I don't know if it was because he was avoiding her or me. Maybe he was avoiding both of us.
"He was a kind father though. He was never cruel to me, ever. He never raised his voice to me. He was always encouraging. He was always so loving… but it was in secret. Always in secret. He had to hide his affection. I think it made my mother jealous if he showed me affection in front of her. Or maybe she felt I didn't deserve it. I don't know. They'd have these terrible arguments about it, and she'd attack him relentlessly. She also attacked him if she heard him speaking to me in Spanish, saying that he was undoing all of her hard work to make me into someone who was 'societally acceptable' and that he was dragging me down by exposing our 'lower class genes' – the ones my father and I share."
Regina exhaled deeply, reaching for her tea and taking a sip. She was less hurt now and more angry, because she was proud of her father, proud of her heritage, proud to be Latina. It infuriated her to no end that her mother looked so down upon that side of her. At one time, Regina had been confused by her mother's words, which contradicted her father's so wholly. Her father, who told her to be proud of her roots, who taught her where she came from, who spoke of strong, independent Hispanic men and women, who regaled her with stories of her history and culture. He had instilled a strong sense of pride in Regina about who she was and where she came from.
But then her mother would go on a tirade about how she needed to forget about that part of herself, that she needed to try and improve, that Regina needed to stop speaking the language she loved so much and that she was already inferior due to the other half of her genes and because of what was between her legs. Her mother would berate her, telling Regina that she needed to try harder and why was she not trying to be better to make up for her significant imperfections.
It had confused Regina as a very small child; it was only as she aged that she realised that her mother was wrong, but there had already been so much damage done. It had taken years and years of therapy for Regina to get to a place where she was finally doing better. She knew she still had a lot of improving to do, especially when it came to relating to others. She needed to learn to trust others, to reach out instead of lashing out, but she was vastly better now at communicating than she had been even just a few years ago.
Regina glanced over at Emma, who was looking at the back of the couch, her brow furrowed. Suddenly feeling self-conscious as she realised Emma had not said a single word through her entire monologue, Regina cautiously asked her if she had overshared and made her uncomfortable. Emma looked up at her then, and smiled reassuringly.
"Not at all."
"Then what is it? You're clearly thinking something."
"I just don't get it. Your mom clearly hates that you're half Latina, but she's the one who married your dad! If she hates Latin American people so much, why the hell did she marry one? Why would she even get together with your dad?"
Ah. Regina toyed with her mug for a second before responding.
"She married him because she was pregnant with me. She would never admit that, of course. According to my mother, they fell in love and married and then she got pregnant on their honeymoon. Except I was 'born a month early' and weighed nearly nine pounds, a little big for a supposed preemie. If that weren't enough of a give-away that my mother's version of events was a lie, my father admitted to me later in life that they were forced by her parents to marry because she was pregnant.
"My mother is much like her parents: all about appearances. It was less embarrassing, less controversial, and less of a disgrace for my mother to be married to my dad than for her to be an unwed mother."
"But how did they even get together?" Emma asked, still confused. "Why would your mom even be interested in your dad?"
"My grandmother was a difficult woman as I've been told, and my mother was rebelling, so she went right for the type of man her mother would hate: my father. He was from a blue collar family, which was bad enough in my grandmother's eyes. But even worse, they were immigrants. And even worse than that, they were illegal immigrants who didn't speak a word of English.
"I truly don't think that my mother ever liked my father, but she used him to get back at her mother. I don't believe she ever intended to stay with him, just to use him to make her parents angry. But then she got pregnant and her plan backfired, and she was forced to marry a man she never wanted in the first place. And then to make matters worse, not only was her child of 'half inferior' genes, but then I turned out to be a girl. A further disappointment. Apparently my mother had been hoping I would be a boy so that she'd fall at least somewhat back into her father's good graces, as my grandfather had always wanted a son but ended up only having daughters. My mother wanted a boy to redeem herself. But then when I turned out to be a girl, I ruined everything. Ruined her last chance to mend things with her parents. And I spent the rest of my life paying for it."
Regina set her empty mug on the table and chewed the inside of her lip. It had been a long time since she'd opened up like this to someone, and she was feeling particularly vulnerable.
"I don't usually share like this…" she finally admitted when the room remained silent for too long, triggering her anxiety.
Emma recognised Regina's apprehension and reached out, offering her hand. When Regina took it hesitantly, Emma squeezed it, hoping it would reassure her.
"I'm so grateful that you did. I'm sorry if I got quiet. I'm just processing."
"Alright. I would prefer if you didn't repeat anything I just told you," Regina responded, slipping her hand from Emma's and tucking it into her lap. She was feeling vulnerable, self-conscious, and she was worried, so she curled into herself unconsciously.
"I would never, Regina. The things you tell me in confidence never go beyond us. I trust you not to repeat what I tell you. I hope you know that you can trust me to do the same."
"I have a hard time trusting," Regina admitted softly.
"I get that. I know you've been burned pretty badly. But I promise you that even if this friendship goes south, which I don't plan on happening, but if it did, I still wouldn't betray your trust. I'm not like that."
Emma said it with such conviction that it helped alleviate some of Regina's fear.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
The women sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Emma digesting all of the information she'd been told and Regina working through the emotions she felt at suddenly sharing so much with someone else. It wasn't so much bringing up the past that was difficult. It was working through the fear and apprehension she felt at rendering herself so vulnerable to another human being, even if it was Emma.
Regina watched Emma carefully, and when the blonde turned to her and smiled softly, Regina couldn't help a small smile back.
"It makes a lot of sense now, when you say you didn't really play as a kid. How could you, growing up in that kind of environment, being fed that kind of shit by your mother?"
"I also simply didn't have time. Occasionally in the summer, when my mother went on trips abroad, I would venture over to where the Mexican children played, in the barrio, and there I did have fun. The kids accepted me, let me play with them, invited me over for lunch. The mothers were unbelievably warm and welcoming and I was never turned away. Those are where my good childhood memories stem from, however few and far between they are."
"I'm sorry that that's what it was like for you, Regina. I'm sorry you didn't get the childhood that you should have. That you didn't get the mother that you deserved. And that your father didn't protect you the way that he should have."
Regina's breath hitched. Her father was a sensitive subject for her. She loved him. Loved him dearly. He was the reason she survived her childhood with her mother. He was her first introduction to love and affection, despite the fact that it came with conditions. He was the reason she had some happy memories in that house. But, and this was a very hard truth for her, one which she struggled to accept (and still had not fully), she also knew that he should have done more. He should have gotten her out of that house. He should have protected her. He should have been around more. He never should have allowed her mother to regularly say such nasty things to her.
But Regina wasn't ready to fully accept that truth. She wasn't ready to admit to herself or to anyone else that he had failed her as well, but in a different way.
Emma, seeing the turmoil on Regina's face, was instantly filled with guilt.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No," Regina responded after taking a second to work through her thoughts and feelings. "I know that… I know that you're correct. That he should have done more. That he wasn't... isn't the hero I had made him out to be in my mind. That he isn't entirely the wonderful, faultless father I thought he was in my childhood. However, it's hard to accept that. It's hard to face the fact that he wasn't as perfect as I always made him out to be. And I feel guilty for faulting him in any way, because he was also abused by my mother. And I do believe he did his best. I love him dearly."
"Of course. That's understandable. And he probably did do his best," Emma stated carefully. "He could have done his best while still failing you in the process though. Sometimes a parent's very best can still not be enough."
Regina bit her bottom lip, emotions swirling in her belly. She felt guilty even thinking that he had failed her. Even considering that thought. Because she knew what it was like to not be enough and she never wanted to attribute that sentiment to the man who had sacrificed so much for her.
Her father had worked so hard when she was a child. Spending hours and hours away from the house in order to provide for them, to earn more money for her mother, who always said he never made enough. Regina knew he wasn't happy with her mother, but he'd stayed because he loved his daughter, had wanted to be near her even though his wife had made his life a living hell. He'd protected Regina as best he could, had tried to make her happy in their stolen moments in his office: giving her sweets and gushing over her drawings and school accomplishments – the same ones her mother had told her she ought to be ashamed of. Her father had always built her up, told her she was intelligent, beautiful, strong. That she could do and be anything. Had shared stories of his family, of Regina's kinship, giving her the culture and history and foundation she had always wanted, giving her connection to who she was, where she came from.
To begin to entertain the possibility that those stolen moments, those hidden yet so unbelievably treasured moments had, in their own way, contributed to her trauma…
Regina swiped at the tears that fell onto her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Regina. I didn't mean to upset you."
Regina shook her head.
"You didn't."
Emma hesitated before shifting closer on the couch. She really, really wanted to comfort Regina.
"Can I give you a hug?"
Regina stared at Emma so long that the blonde began doubting her offer.
"I mean- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You can say no."
"No it's- it's…"
"It's what?"
"It's that… It's that I'd like a hug very much." And it frightens me how much I'd like it, from you specifically.
Emma's heart broke at Regina's shaky tone, immediately reaching out and pulling her into a tight embrace. She held her close, gently stroking the other woman's back, shifting even closer to her so that she could hold her tighter. Regina clamped down hard on her lower lip, refusing to cry, but when Emma began encouraging her, telling her that she was safe, something within her let go and she turned into Emma's neck and began to weep.
Emma held her. She held her and held her and held her until her arms ached. And then she held her some more. She held Regina through the tears, and then long after she had stopped crying. She held her through the shaky breaths, through the quiet, and then after she had calmed down. And when Regina started to reluctantly pull away, feeling guilty for taking so much comfort in Emma's arms, Emma had shifted and tucked Regina into her side, telling her she wasn't yet ready to let go.
"As long as it's okay with you."
Regina, though it frightened her to allow herself to lean on Emma, nodded anyway. It was very okay with her. She wanted to be held by Emma, and it felt so good to cuddle against her, enjoying the other woman's embrace. But it did scare her. It scared her to draw comfort from her, because what happened if this source of comfort went away? When it went away. It always went away.
"Regina?"
"Yes?"
"You just tensed up. What are you thinking?"
Regina forced herself to relax minutely. She didn't answer.
"Please tell me. I'd really like to know. You can tell me you don't want to answer, if you want. But… I'd really like it if you told me."
Damn her. Damn her and her incredibly gentle, inviting tone. Damn the way it wormed through Regina's already shaken walls. And damn the fact that Regina didn't really damn her at all.
She sighed.
"I don't want to take comfort in you, even though I do."
"Because maybe I'll leave?"
Regina looked up at her, surprise written all over her face. Emma simply smiled down at her.
"Might come as a shock, Regina, but you and I are alike in a lot of ways."
"We are not," Regina grumbled, but Emma knew her well enough now to know she was teasing.
Any further snarky comment was instantly quelled when Emma's fingers made their way into Regina's hair, gently scratching at her scalp. Regina's eyes immediately closed, and she rested more fully against Emma as her muscles slowly lost their tension.
Emma grinned. She had hoped the scalp massage would help Regina relax more fully, and it seemed to be working. She scratched her blunt nails against Regina's head, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the silky smooth strands between her fingers. She let Regina sit peacefully for a few minutes before she spoke, breaking the silence.
"Thank you for trusting me tonight, Regina. You don't know what it means to me for you to have shared with me like this. I really, really like it when you do."
Regina stayed quiet, staring at the arm of the couch, unsure of how to respond. It felt strange to open up. Even stranger for Emma to sound so sincere. It had been a very, very long time since Regina's had felt this kind of closeness to someone else. There was still more, so much more, but even just taking this first step was huge for Regina, who never shared anything with anyone.
They sat in silence for a while, Emma never faltering in her tender touches to Regina's head. Regina had closed her eyes again, feeling relaxed in a way she hadn't in years. It felt unbelievably nice to be touched like this. She hadn't realised how much she had needed this, needed this type of affection, and she was glad Emma had offered it to her. She was determined to enjoy it, even if it was only for tonight.
She wondered when the last time Emma had been touched like this. Had it been during Emma's last relationship? She wondered when that had been. Likely sooner than Regina's last one. Regina hadn't had a relationship in… well, longer than she cared to admit. She hadn't had time when Henry was a baby and they'd been out in California. And then they'd moved to Storybrooke, where Regina hadn't wanted to start a relationship with anyone. Not that she'd had any offers. Everyone around here seemed to, at worst, openly hate her and, at best, tolerate her. So even if she'd wanted to (which she most certainly did not), no one else would have anyway. Especially not after what had happened so many years ago, with Danielle, and when Regina's closely guarded secret had been discovered.
After that, Regina had been treated like a leper. No one wanted to be around her. She'd been outcasted from the friends she'd had, that she and Danielle had shared. No one had wanted to be near her after the rumours had started about how different she was.
Emma could feel the tension rising again in Regina, so Emma paused, her fingers sliding down to cup the woman's jaw and gently nudging her to look up at her.
"Regina? You okay?"
Regina pulled away slowly, looking away as she did so.
"Where did you go just now?" Emma inquired.
"Nowhere good."
"Did you want to talk about it?"
"Definitely not."
"Okay. Do you want to talk about something else?"
"Yes, please."
"Or would you rather I go?"
"If you would prefer to leave-"
"I wouldn't. But I feel like maybe I've upset you or something."
"You didn't, Emma. My mind simply wandered to a place I wish it hadn't."
"Okay. Um. Well," Emma racked her brain, trying to think of something to talk about. But the only thing that came to mind was, "Henry told me about the birthday party he wants to throw for you."
Regina groaned.
"No party, Emma. No one would attend anyway."
"That isn't true."
"It is true, Emma. Don't do that. You know it's true. You're the only person in this town who treats me like a person."
"Granny too."
"Two people."
"Ruby likes you."
"Don't, Emma."
Emma sighed, nodding slowly. She was a little hurt at Regina's sharp tone, even though she knew it was probably warranted given that she'd been warned already to drop it.
"Okay."
Regina reached out and took Emma's hand.
"I know you mean well, but the people of this town have long memories. There's a lot of history here, between us. I'm not well liked."
"Is that why you're so defensive?"
Emma had seen the way Regina's walls went up even before anyone opened their mouth around her. Regina lowered her defenses when they were alone, but Emma had seen the way she instantly threw them back up if someone entered their private space.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when someone gets close to you. It's like you immediately expect them to attack you and go you on the offense. You lash out before anyone even has the chance to try to like you."
"Because they will attack me. They always do."
"Is it because you attack them first?" Emma asked softly, trying hard not to sound like she herself was attacking Regina. "You don't give them the chance to get close to you. You push everyone away before they can get too close."
Emma's heart sank as she watched the instantaneous react in Regina: walls quickly going up as she pulled away from her.
"I'm sorry, Regina. I'm not trying to hurt you or attack you, too. It's just, I'm trying to understand but I'm missing a lot of information."
"Yes, you are. So stop trying to act like you understand because you don't."
Regina's words stung, and Emma worked hard to keep the hurt from consuming her. She took a couple of minutes to work through her feelings, before speaking again.
"I know I don't understand. But I'm trying to. Until you share with me what happened between you and what seems to be literally everyone else in this town, I'm not going to get it." Emma shifted on the couch, turning to face Regina more fully, despite the woman having chosen to face away from her. "I'm trying to respect your privacy, Regina. I don't talk about you behind your back. I don't join in the gossip. I haven't asked anyone about what happened. Honestly, I don't really hear anyone talk about you but I promise that if I did, I'd never stand for it.
"I want you to trust me. I want to be a safe person for you. And I'm trying really hard. I know I fucked up royally. Like fucking royally, over the Christmas break. I know I hurt you. And I hurt Henry. And I'll never forgive myself for that. I know our trust is shaken. Or maybe it's even broken. But I'm not your enemy. I don't want to be your enemy. I wanna be your friend. And even though it really hurts right now that you're lashing out at me when I'm trying to just… get it, I'm going to not do the thing where I just run away from you. Even though right now, every cell in my body is screaming at me to go. I want to be here for you, Regina. I didn't mean to upset you. Obviously I hit a nerve. And I'm sorry. I promise, I'm just trying to understand."
Emma sat, waiting, hoping that Regina would turn to face her. But the woman simply bit her lip, looking at the floor. Emma fought her instincts, fought the voice telling her to run, stayed through the spiking anxiety and fear of rejection until she thought she'd explode. Her leg began shaking, and when she moved her hand up to bite on her nails, Regina reached over. Emma took her hand gratefully, trying to calm her racing heart, looking over at the woman, who continued to look at the floor.
"I'm sorry too. I'm not good at this, Emma. It's been so very long since I've had a friend. I'm used to being on the defensive. I'm used to lashing out before the other person does. It's been a very long time since I've felt that someone else has been on my side. I'm sorry I lashed out just now. I'm feeling very vulnerable and it's making me defensive."
Emma squeezed her fingers, tugging lightly so that Regina would look at her. When their eyes met, Emma spoke.
"I am on your side, Regina. Even when I'm saying things that maybe you don't like, like what I just did about you being on the defensive, I'm not trying to hurt or attack you. I just think maybe…"
Regina waited for her to continue, taking her own turn at squeezing the other woman's fingers when she didn't.
"You think maybe what?"
"I don't mean this as an attack, Regina. But I just think maybe it's been a long time since someone's held a mirror up to your behaviour. You're seeing things from your perspective, and I get that people have a long memory. But I think maybe you also do too."
Regina stayed quiet, her brows furrowing, Emma watching on nervously.
"I don't like your words, Emma Swan," Regina said, but the tenderness in her tone and her soft smile gave her away.
Emma let go of the breath she'd been holding, chuckling softly.
"I know. But that's also part of being your friend, I think. Saying things that perhaps you won't like."
"Then I'd like to resign from this friendship."
Emma's anxiety all but disappeared at the woman's light tone.
"I'm sorry, I'm not accepting resignations at this time," she teased back.
"I'd like to resign anyway."
"Sorry. You chose the lifetime membership. And since this business stands by its word, the membership does, in fact, last a lifetime."
"Where do I unsign?" Regina responded in mock indignation, shifting away from Emma.
"Can't be done," Emma said, shifting closer to Regina. "No refunds."
"I don't like your business practice. It's unethical."
Regina made a move to get up, fighting the smile on her face. She was half successful until Emma, grinning, reached up and yanked Regina down into her lap, before shifting her in her arms so they were facing one another. Emma then turned them slightly and fell forward towards the couch, pushing Regina onto her back, pinning her down into in a bear hug. Regina, laughing, wrapped her arms around Emma's back and poked her in the shoulders.
"No manhandling the clients."
"There's no man handling this client, I assure you."
Regina's belly fluttered at Emma's words, her fingers stroking up and down Emma's back before one hand settled in her hair, the other on the hip pressed into her side.
"No," Regina breathed, her voice coming out a little thick even to her own ears. "No, there's certainly no man handling me." She shifted her chin to turn into Emma's throat, breathing softly for a moment before continuing, "And I'm very grateful for that fact."
Emma's stomach clenched at the breathiness in Regina's voice, suddenly acutely aware of the very feminine body pressing against her, the soft lips so close to her throat. She realised she was liking the way Regina felt beneath her far too much, the low thrum of arousal stirring deep in her belly, causing her voice to catch in her throat.
She's your friend, Emma.
But despite the warning to herself, a shiver raced up Emma's spine. And it certainly wasn't because she was cold.
No.
Emma was feeling far, far too warm and it had everything to do with the wonderfully soft brunette beneath her.
Uh-oh, Swan.
Despite the fact that she knew she should probably pull away, Emma did the very opposite: burrowing closer to Regina and breathing in her scent, biting hard on her lower lip to keep from kissing the woman tucked so safely in her arms.