Whatever This Is (Once Upon a Time; Regina/Emma)
TITLE: Whatever This Is
CHAPTER 16: Raw
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: AU from beginning of "The Cricket Game"
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.
*****
She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.
Plus, it wasn't as though subtlety was one of her strong suits.
And for a moment, Emma yields to her. Her lips are soft and begin to part. But reality catches up with the blonde remarkably quickly; Regina feels the tension snap through her in an instant and then Emma’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing her away.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Her eyes are wide, fingertips digging in to her shoulders. “What the hell just happened?”
Regina feels a bit of patience slide away, because - really? She was going to play that game? “I kissed you,” she tells her, matter-of-factly.
“Okay… why?”
“I would think that’s obvious.” She tries not to sound irritated, but it just comes out.
“Uhh, not to me.”
Regina sighs, dropping her head. She really is the product of the Two Idiots; and part of her pities the blonde, because she ended up with a double-dose of stupidity. “Then apparently I need to spell things out for you.” She reaches for her hand and Emma jumps at the contact, though she doesn’t pull away.
She takes that as a good sign. “Emma, I've… developed feelings for you. Romantic feelings.”
If possible, Emma’s eyes get even wider, and Regina’s left wondering if she should reconsider this plan of action. She knew she was dense, but she had been unaware of the severity until now.
“You have?”
She nods. She’s already stepped in with both feet - best to go all the way in. “I have no idea when it started or what started it, but I find that I’m,” she chuckles nervously, feeling a bit silly that she’s even having this conversation, “I’m somewhat… crazy about you.” She looks up, meeting the blonde’s wide eyes, gripping her hand tightly for fear that it will be yanked away. “I-I can’t stop thinking about you, I have such a wonderful time when we’re together, and I've never been able to open up to or trust anyone like I can with you.”
“I know,” Emma exhales a smile, and Regina feels a twinge of hope searing her gut as she squeezes her hand. “I have a great time with you, too. And honestly, you’re the best friend I've ever had.”
Regina’s smile is beatific at this point; she’s overwhelmed with joy and just has to lean in again…
“But…” Emma’s voice stops her when their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching.
The joy within her is promptly usurped by pangs of sorrow. She watches Emma pull back. Her hand is released and it suddenly feels cold. She looks at it, still upturned on the small piece of sofa cushion that separates them. Emma’s hand on her cheek is unexpected and she gasps, meeting her eyes.
The smile she receives is sad… sympathetic, maybe. She’s a fool. “But that’s part of the reason I said I didn't want to experiment with you. I care about you, so much.” The smile turns a bit wry as she adds, “Way more than I ever wanted to.”
Swallowing hard, Regina places her hand on Emma’s wrist, eyes on her lips as she tells her, “Kiss me again and tell me that you feel nothing.”
“No. I’m not gonna lead you on like that.”
Regina pulls back at that, a wounded look on her face. “But it was okay for you to toy with me and suggest a kiss a few nights ago?”
“I had no idea you even felt this way! And anyway - it was a game, Regina!”
She feels compelled to use some of the colorful language Emma herself is so fond of, and shoves her hand off of her face as she calls, “Bullshit.”
Emma looks momentarily shocked that she would dare utter such a word, and gets to her feet. “What?”
Regina rises with her, invading her personal space. “You heard me - bullshit. It wasn't a game, to either one of us. You wanted that kiss,” she dips her voice and her head, giving her a smoky look through her lashes, “and I gave you everything you wanted.”
She can feel the adrenaline and magic starting to course through her - a fire sparked by Emma’s ignorance, and it’s one that she doesn’t mind stoking for a bit.
“It was an impulse - a weird impulse, and I acted on it. I told you it was a mistake.”
She shakes her head and steps even closer. “I’m afraid I’ll have to call ‘bullshit’ again. You and I both know that humans don’t act upon every single impulse that strikes them.” Tilting her head, she adds, “If we did, after that kiss you would have been thrown down on that coffee table and shown a thing or two you wouldn't soon forget.”
She doesn’t miss the way Emma swallows hard at that, her blue-green eyes sparkling in the low light of the den.
“We were drinking, Regina!” she spits back at her, not backing down even though they’re practically nose-to-nose. “Things got out of hand and that’s all.”
Regina keeps advancing, and now she’s so close that Emma has no choice but to either back up or run into her - she chooses the former, but Regina is quick to follow until she has her backed against the wall.
She presses a hand to the wall beside the blonde’s head, leaning against it. “That kiss scared the hell out of you. Not because it happened and it was a mistake, but because you wanted it. And you and I both know that things would have gone a lot further if you hadn't panicked and run off.”
The look Emma throws her way now carries with it a warning; a warning that she’s happy to ignore even as Emma clenches her teeth and says, “Back off, Regina.”
If anything, it goads her. She presses her other hand to the wall on the opposite side of Emma’s head, effectively pinning her in place. “No. You know that I’m right. You may not want to admit it, but you know the truth. And,” she leans back just a little, offering her a few moments of breathing room before her next attack, “Let’s not forget what happened both when we kissed, and when we slow-danced.”
Then she invades her space again, widening her eyes just a bit as she gives a gleeful little smile and finishes, “Magic. And do you know what magic is, Emma? Do you have any idea what creates it?” She doesn’t give her a chance to answer as she keeps going, “It’s emotion.” Her eyes dart back and forth between both of Emma’s, making sure she looks good and scared. “Pure, raw, naked emotion. It’s passion, Emma. And we've got it in spades.”
She’s practically leaning against her now; only breath can fit between their bodies. “So don’t you stand there and tell me that there’s nothing going on here - that you feel nothing toward me. If you didn't…” She reaches out and takes Emma’s hand, pinning it to the wall as well as she threads their fingers together.
Emma turns to look and there are tiny sparks and bolts, traveling between and around their palms - alternating purple and blue. With a thumb and forefinger on her chin, Regina forces Emma’s eyes back to hers. “If you didn't, we wouldn't have this,” and she wiggles her fingers against her hand, feeling small electrical shocks as she does so.
She looks back at Emma and finds she’s being scrutinized, hard. The blonde’s eyes flash fire and Regina’s about to address it when suddenly Emma lunges forward, claiming her lips. She doesn’t have a moment to think or even react before she’s consumed completely by a white-hot kiss.
She can hear a groan and doesn’t know if it’s her or Emma that released it. All she can feel is fire and magic and whorls of violet and blue. Emma tastes fresh and smells like she’s been rolling around in wildflowers. The magic her lips spread through Regina’s veins is bright and passionate and good… so, so good.
Her hands skim Emma’s waist and grips her hard. This time she’s sure that it’s the blonde who groans, drawing Regina close by grabbing a belt loop on her dress pants and yanking. They fall together and it’s glorious. Emma’s hands are in her hair and Regina’s are on her waist, able to feel skin where her shirt has rucked up.
Then Emma is pushing - pushing off from the wall and Regina lets her lead, hoping they at least end up in the vicinity of the couch. But suddenly their lips are torn apart as Emma keeps shoving, and Regina finds herself on the arm of the couch, dumbfounded as she stares up at her.
The look on the blonde’s face is angry; she wipes at her lips looking pleased with herself and Regina finally gathers enough sense to realize that it had been a ruse - a means of unpinning herself.
“Maybe there are emotions between us,” Emma pants, straightening her shirt. “Maybe they’re intense enough to create magic. But for me?” She raises her brows. “They’re not passion and they’re sure as hell not love. And whatever they are, they’re not worth ruining what we've already got.”
Curling her lip, Regina growls, “Then you’re more of a coward than I thought. And you’re a fool, but that’s no surprise.” Tilting her head haughtily, she sneers, “You are a Charming, through and through.”
Emma just huffs and swipes her bottom lip one last time, “Goodbye, Regina,” and turns on her heel to leave.
Regina’s feels like part of her is still coming to her senses, and she stumbles to her feet, chasing after her. It’s that idiotic ‘Never Have I Ever’ game all over again. “Emma, wait.”
Maybe she was too harsh, too rough. Maybe she hadn't placed enough emphasis on the deeper emotion she felt other than the passion. “Wait, please.”
The front door is already open and Emma is straddling the threshold - one foot in and one foot out. She quirks an eyebrow, just slightly, and says, “No, I think we’re done here.” And then the slamming door brings on silence.
Regina is left all to herself, staring at the door and the chandelier that swings with the momentum of Emma’s departure. She can still feel magic traveling through her veins and she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers until a small flame is hovering millimeters over her palm. The urge to destroy is overwhelming - and all she needs to start it off is in the palm of her hand.
But instead, she closes her eyes; she resists. When she opens them, the flame has been reduced to a faint glow, and she closes her hand around it, bringing her fist to her lips. She touches them briefly and thinks of the passion that had exploded between the two of them. How could Emma insist that it wasn't part of the equation for her.
Sighing, Regina drops her arm to her side and trudges up the stairs for a bath. She has no idea where they've left things or what tomorrow will bring, but there’s one thing she knows for certain:
She can no longer be friends with Emma Swan.
*****
The next morning arrives, and shortly after breakfast is when there’s a knock at the front door. Her stomach churns, knowing it’s Emma. The resolution she made last night now makes her feel a bit queasy - she feels like she needs more time to think on it before saying anything else rash.
The knocking grows more persistent and Regina calls out, “Coming!” before checking her appearance in the mirror. When the door swings open, she’s surprised to see Henry standing there looking up at her. “Henry…”
He throws his arms around her like he hasn't seen her in weeks, and she runs a hand through his hair. He looks upset about something, and she doesn’t see a car in sight that resembles the death trap or the cruiser. When she feels her son pulling away, she bends slightly so that their eyes are level. “Sweetheart, how did you get here?”
With a shrug, he tells her, “I walked.”
Regina opens her mouth to question him again when he suddenly asks, “Can I stay with you for awhile? I mean, I know it’s not the weekend, but-“
“Of course you can,” she responds without missing a beat. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long and as often as you want.” But there’s a burning question needing to be answered. “But… what about Emma?”
“I don’t care about Emma anymore,” he grumbles, and practically stomps past her into the house.
He heads up the stairs and she follows, watching as he flings himself onto his bed. This certainly lines up with what Emma had been talking about last night.
But maybe it’s best if she doesn’t think about Emma right now, and instead focuses on Henry. So she leans on the door frame and asks, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Henry faces away from her and shakes his head. She nods unseen, expecting as much from him. So she tries a different tack. “Would you like some chocolate milk?” and she thinks that will hook him. It’s very seldom she allows him to drink the sugar-ridden beverage, but his dire mood may just call for it.
Surprisingly, he shakes his head again. So Regina raises her brows and sighs, placing a hand on the knob. “Alright! Well, I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready to come down.” And she’s halfway out the door when she hears him sitting up and turning to face her.
“Why didn't she just tell me who my dad really was? I mean I already knew that she had me in jail, so why couldn't she just be honest?”
She sighs once again, going to sit beside him on his bed. “Henry… there’s something you should know.”
He looks up at her as she wraps an arm around his shoulder. She looks down at him with a remorseful frown on her face, hoping he can see the sincerity in her eyes.
“What?” he asks, looking so terribly innocent.
She’s about to shift his hatred off Emma and onto herself. “It’s my fault that Emma didn't tell you the truth.”
“What?” Now he looks confused, leaning back a bit so her arm slips from him. “How?”
Regina takes in a breath through her nose, breathing it out slowly. She’s already given her son enough reasons to hate her - what’s one more nail in the coffin? “Because, I made Sidney print that story about her.”
“How she had me in jail?” he clarifies, and she nods. He looks away. “Oh.”
“I’m so sorry, Henry.” She reaches for his hand, holding on for as long as he’ll let her. “It was when she first got here, and we weren't getting along. I was afraid she was going to take you away from me, and-"
“It’s okay,” he says, sounding surprisingly calm about the whole thing.
Now it’s Regina’s turn to lean back, and she stares at him in disbelief. Why isn't he throwing a fit and telling her he hates her? Why isn't he running back to Emma at this very moment? “It is?”
He nods, giving her a small smile. “I already forgave all those mean things you did last year.” Shrugging, he tells her, “You’re a different person now. You’re a good person.”
She smiles, wrapping her arm around him again. “Thank you.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head before she leans her cheek on it, her hand rubbing up and down his upper arm. After a moment, she says quietly, “Do you know who else is a good person?” She looks down at him and thinks he knows what’s coming. He doesn’t respond, so she says, “Emma. Emma is a good person.”
“Then… why did she lie?”
“Because she was scared,” she tells him, hugging him to her. “She was scared because of what was in the paper. And… I don’t think you’ll fully understand this until you get older, but…” She looks him in the eye, telling him the same thing she told his mother the night before. “Honesty is tricky sometimes. Especially when it has the potential to disappoint or hurt other people.”
“Emma said once that sometimes she lies when she’s scared, too, so… I guess that makes sense.”
Regina nods and drops a kiss to the top of his head again. Then his comment catches up with her - she lies when she’s scared.
To Henry, she asks, “Do you feel a little better now?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready to make amends with Emma?”
At that, he shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Okay,” she says, and smooths her skirt as she rises from his bed and watches him turn on his side again. He’s always been a very introspective little boy, and she knows he’ll need a little time to process what they've discussed.
So she leaves him alone and heads back downstairs, thinking things over. If Emma lies when she’s scared, then that perhaps meant that her kiss last night - and all the magic and passion behind it - was in fact real; so real, that it frightened her into lying, and denying there was nothing of substance there.
She breathes a sigh and tilts her head, saying aloud to herself, “Well sorry, Emma. It’s time to put on your big-girl pants.”
Not long after she says it, the doorbell rings. And this time the tightening of her stomach tells her exactly who’s on the other side. So she steels herself - checks her appearance in the mirror again - and strides as confidently as she can manage over to the door, pulling it open. And there she stands - sheriff, savior, owner of a pool of denial.
For a moment, neither one of them say anything - they just assess each other. She watches Emma swallow and take half a step forward, asking, “Are we still speaking?”
“It would seem so,” she replies, allowing just a hint of a smirk.
She watches, for the second time in the last several days, as Emma heaves a sigh of relief, confident that the state of their relationship remains intact. Little does she know…
“I-I just wanted to see if-"
“Henry was here?” she finishes, nodding when Emma does. “He is. He’s upstairs.”
Wincing a little, she surmises, “Still pissed at me, huh?”
Regina smiles. “He’ll get past it. He always does.”
Emma nods, searching her eyes. Regina just watches her, unwilling to let her poker face slide. The blonde takes another step forward. “In that case, um… maybe you and I can talk?”
Regina nods, and closes the door behind herself as she joins Emma on the front stoop. “Certainly. Let’s talk.”
“When I said last night, that we’re done? I’m really sorry. I didn't mean that. I think things just got a little heated…” to herself, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “Again, and…” then she looks up. “And I just needed some space.”
She nods. It’s the same song and dance number she heard days ago. “I know.”
Emma looks up and meets her eyes, brows lifting again. “You do?”
“Yes. And… I know you didn't mean what you said.” She watches as relief floods the blonde’s face for the second time, before she gets ready to wipe it clean off as she adds, “But you had a point.”
Predictably, the expression on Emma’s face shifts from relief to confusion. “About what?”
“The idea of being done. I think…” She nods slowly. “I think perhaps we've reached that point.”
“Whoa, wait.” Emma waves her arms, one hand resting on the stone column - the very same one Whale had Regina pinned against when the blonde swooped in to save her - and she looks at her in disbelief. “Regina, what are you talking about?”
“Well Emma,” she takes a step in and they’re in one another’s space again. Never a foreign concept but she really needs it to hammer the point home. “You said before when this happened the first time that you just needed space. So you ran.” She sees her open her mouth for a rebuttal but doesn’t give her a chance. “Just like last night. You needed some space, and out the door you went once again.”
“Regina-"
Regina shakes her head, searching her eyes as she asks in a hushed tone, “Aren't you tired? Tired of running, of needing some space? Aren't you tired of being afraid to own up to how you feel?” Another attempt is made by the blonde to open her mouth, and again Regina cuts her off. “I am. I’m very tired.”
“So…” Emma frowns at her through her lashes. “What are you saying?”
Regina tilts her head. She reaches out and touches a piece of Emma’s long blonde hair. Moments come to her at once of drunken giggling, of grabbing one another’s hands, of having someone to lean on. Then, she looks up, their eyes meeting. “I’m saying exactly what you said to me last night - I think we’re done here.”
“Regina…” She thinks she can hear the blonde’s voice catching.
A lump is rising in her own throat, too, but she has to push forward. She can’t go back on her decision. It’s for the best… for both of them.
Emma pleads with her. “Please, think about what you’re saying.”
“I have,” she tells her, releasing the slice of hair from between her fingertips. “I thought about it all night. And I’m sorry, but… I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
She watches Emma swallow, and she can see moisture gathering in her eyes as she grabs her hand. “You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine,” she tells her, squeezing her hand for what may very well be the last time. She looks down and watches her thumb massage Emma’s knuckles. She forces herself to let go, and to take a step back. “But… the way I feel about you?” She swallows, shaking her head. “It’s bigger than that. It’s much bigger. And if you insist you’ll never feel the same, then I need to cut my losses. Because this-" She gestures between them. “Whatever this is? It’s only going to hurt me.”
There’s nothing left to do then but say goodbye. Emma looks like she’s at a complete loss for words, and that she could possibly cry soon. Regina’s torn between wanting to make it better and being glad. She musters the last vestiges of strength she has as she lifts her head to meet the blonde’s watery eyes, telling her, “I’ll drop Henry off tomorrow. He should be feeling better by then.”
Emma merely nods, mouth still slack at what’s just happened. She looks devastated and confused, and probably many more things that can’t yet be enumerated. Swallowing her emotion, Regina lifts her chin and opens her front door, going inside.
Emma begins to follow, voice pregnant with unshed tears. “Regina, don’t-"
Her voice is quiet, sad as she says, “Goodbye, Emma.” Then she shuts the door and leans against it with her forehead, forcing the tears at bay.
She presses her hand to the hard surface, completely unaware of the savior doing the same thing on the other side of the door.
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon_fanfic and regina_emma}
CHAPTER 16: Raw
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: AU from beginning of "The Cricket Game"
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.
*****
She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.
Plus, it wasn't as though subtlety was one of her strong suits.
And for a moment, Emma yields to her. Her lips are soft and begin to part. But reality catches up with the blonde remarkably quickly; Regina feels the tension snap through her in an instant and then Emma’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing her away.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Her eyes are wide, fingertips digging in to her shoulders. “What the hell just happened?”
Regina feels a bit of patience slide away, because - really? She was going to play that game? “I kissed you,” she tells her, matter-of-factly.
“Okay… why?”
“I would think that’s obvious.” She tries not to sound irritated, but it just comes out.
“Uhh, not to me.”
Regina sighs, dropping her head. She really is the product of the Two Idiots; and part of her pities the blonde, because she ended up with a double-dose of stupidity. “Then apparently I need to spell things out for you.” She reaches for her hand and Emma jumps at the contact, though she doesn’t pull away.
She takes that as a good sign. “Emma, I've… developed feelings for you. Romantic feelings.”
If possible, Emma’s eyes get even wider, and Regina’s left wondering if she should reconsider this plan of action. She knew she was dense, but she had been unaware of the severity until now.
“You have?”
She nods. She’s already stepped in with both feet - best to go all the way in. “I have no idea when it started or what started it, but I find that I’m,” she chuckles nervously, feeling a bit silly that she’s even having this conversation, “I’m somewhat… crazy about you.” She looks up, meeting the blonde’s wide eyes, gripping her hand tightly for fear that it will be yanked away. “I-I can’t stop thinking about you, I have such a wonderful time when we’re together, and I've never been able to open up to or trust anyone like I can with you.”
“I know,” Emma exhales a smile, and Regina feels a twinge of hope searing her gut as she squeezes her hand. “I have a great time with you, too. And honestly, you’re the best friend I've ever had.”
Regina’s smile is beatific at this point; she’s overwhelmed with joy and just has to lean in again…
“But…” Emma’s voice stops her when their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching.
The joy within her is promptly usurped by pangs of sorrow. She watches Emma pull back. Her hand is released and it suddenly feels cold. She looks at it, still upturned on the small piece of sofa cushion that separates them. Emma’s hand on her cheek is unexpected and she gasps, meeting her eyes.
The smile she receives is sad… sympathetic, maybe. She’s a fool. “But that’s part of the reason I said I didn't want to experiment with you. I care about you, so much.” The smile turns a bit wry as she adds, “Way more than I ever wanted to.”
Swallowing hard, Regina places her hand on Emma’s wrist, eyes on her lips as she tells her, “Kiss me again and tell me that you feel nothing.”
“No. I’m not gonna lead you on like that.”
Regina pulls back at that, a wounded look on her face. “But it was okay for you to toy with me and suggest a kiss a few nights ago?”
“I had no idea you even felt this way! And anyway - it was a game, Regina!”
She feels compelled to use some of the colorful language Emma herself is so fond of, and shoves her hand off of her face as she calls, “Bullshit.”
Emma looks momentarily shocked that she would dare utter such a word, and gets to her feet. “What?”
Regina rises with her, invading her personal space. “You heard me - bullshit. It wasn't a game, to either one of us. You wanted that kiss,” she dips her voice and her head, giving her a smoky look through her lashes, “and I gave you everything you wanted.”
She can feel the adrenaline and magic starting to course through her - a fire sparked by Emma’s ignorance, and it’s one that she doesn’t mind stoking for a bit.
“It was an impulse - a weird impulse, and I acted on it. I told you it was a mistake.”
She shakes her head and steps even closer. “I’m afraid I’ll have to call ‘bullshit’ again. You and I both know that humans don’t act upon every single impulse that strikes them.” Tilting her head, she adds, “If we did, after that kiss you would have been thrown down on that coffee table and shown a thing or two you wouldn't soon forget.”
She doesn’t miss the way Emma swallows hard at that, her blue-green eyes sparkling in the low light of the den.
“We were drinking, Regina!” she spits back at her, not backing down even though they’re practically nose-to-nose. “Things got out of hand and that’s all.”
Regina keeps advancing, and now she’s so close that Emma has no choice but to either back up or run into her - she chooses the former, but Regina is quick to follow until she has her backed against the wall.
She presses a hand to the wall beside the blonde’s head, leaning against it. “That kiss scared the hell out of you. Not because it happened and it was a mistake, but because you wanted it. And you and I both know that things would have gone a lot further if you hadn't panicked and run off.”
The look Emma throws her way now carries with it a warning; a warning that she’s happy to ignore even as Emma clenches her teeth and says, “Back off, Regina.”
If anything, it goads her. She presses her other hand to the wall on the opposite side of Emma’s head, effectively pinning her in place. “No. You know that I’m right. You may not want to admit it, but you know the truth. And,” she leans back just a little, offering her a few moments of breathing room before her next attack, “Let’s not forget what happened both when we kissed, and when we slow-danced.”
Then she invades her space again, widening her eyes just a bit as she gives a gleeful little smile and finishes, “Magic. And do you know what magic is, Emma? Do you have any idea what creates it?” She doesn’t give her a chance to answer as she keeps going, “It’s emotion.” Her eyes dart back and forth between both of Emma’s, making sure she looks good and scared. “Pure, raw, naked emotion. It’s passion, Emma. And we've got it in spades.”
She’s practically leaning against her now; only breath can fit between their bodies. “So don’t you stand there and tell me that there’s nothing going on here - that you feel nothing toward me. If you didn't…” She reaches out and takes Emma’s hand, pinning it to the wall as well as she threads their fingers together.
Emma turns to look and there are tiny sparks and bolts, traveling between and around their palms - alternating purple and blue. With a thumb and forefinger on her chin, Regina forces Emma’s eyes back to hers. “If you didn't, we wouldn't have this,” and she wiggles her fingers against her hand, feeling small electrical shocks as she does so.
She looks back at Emma and finds she’s being scrutinized, hard. The blonde’s eyes flash fire and Regina’s about to address it when suddenly Emma lunges forward, claiming her lips. She doesn’t have a moment to think or even react before she’s consumed completely by a white-hot kiss.
She can hear a groan and doesn’t know if it’s her or Emma that released it. All she can feel is fire and magic and whorls of violet and blue. Emma tastes fresh and smells like she’s been rolling around in wildflowers. The magic her lips spread through Regina’s veins is bright and passionate and good… so, so good.
Her hands skim Emma’s waist and grips her hard. This time she’s sure that it’s the blonde who groans, drawing Regina close by grabbing a belt loop on her dress pants and yanking. They fall together and it’s glorious. Emma’s hands are in her hair and Regina’s are on her waist, able to feel skin where her shirt has rucked up.
Then Emma is pushing - pushing off from the wall and Regina lets her lead, hoping they at least end up in the vicinity of the couch. But suddenly their lips are torn apart as Emma keeps shoving, and Regina finds herself on the arm of the couch, dumbfounded as she stares up at her.
The look on the blonde’s face is angry; she wipes at her lips looking pleased with herself and Regina finally gathers enough sense to realize that it had been a ruse - a means of unpinning herself.
“Maybe there are emotions between us,” Emma pants, straightening her shirt. “Maybe they’re intense enough to create magic. But for me?” She raises her brows. “They’re not passion and they’re sure as hell not love. And whatever they are, they’re not worth ruining what we've already got.”
Curling her lip, Regina growls, “Then you’re more of a coward than I thought. And you’re a fool, but that’s no surprise.” Tilting her head haughtily, she sneers, “You are a Charming, through and through.”
Emma just huffs and swipes her bottom lip one last time, “Goodbye, Regina,” and turns on her heel to leave.
Regina’s feels like part of her is still coming to her senses, and she stumbles to her feet, chasing after her. It’s that idiotic ‘Never Have I Ever’ game all over again. “Emma, wait.”
Maybe she was too harsh, too rough. Maybe she hadn't placed enough emphasis on the deeper emotion she felt other than the passion. “Wait, please.”
The front door is already open and Emma is straddling the threshold - one foot in and one foot out. She quirks an eyebrow, just slightly, and says, “No, I think we’re done here.” And then the slamming door brings on silence.
Regina is left all to herself, staring at the door and the chandelier that swings with the momentum of Emma’s departure. She can still feel magic traveling through her veins and she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers until a small flame is hovering millimeters over her palm. The urge to destroy is overwhelming - and all she needs to start it off is in the palm of her hand.
But instead, she closes her eyes; she resists. When she opens them, the flame has been reduced to a faint glow, and she closes her hand around it, bringing her fist to her lips. She touches them briefly and thinks of the passion that had exploded between the two of them. How could Emma insist that it wasn't part of the equation for her.
Sighing, Regina drops her arm to her side and trudges up the stairs for a bath. She has no idea where they've left things or what tomorrow will bring, but there’s one thing she knows for certain:
She can no longer be friends with Emma Swan.
*****
The next morning arrives, and shortly after breakfast is when there’s a knock at the front door. Her stomach churns, knowing it’s Emma. The resolution she made last night now makes her feel a bit queasy - she feels like she needs more time to think on it before saying anything else rash.
The knocking grows more persistent and Regina calls out, “Coming!” before checking her appearance in the mirror. When the door swings open, she’s surprised to see Henry standing there looking up at her. “Henry…”
He throws his arms around her like he hasn't seen her in weeks, and she runs a hand through his hair. He looks upset about something, and she doesn’t see a car in sight that resembles the death trap or the cruiser. When she feels her son pulling away, she bends slightly so that their eyes are level. “Sweetheart, how did you get here?”
With a shrug, he tells her, “I walked.”
Regina opens her mouth to question him again when he suddenly asks, “Can I stay with you for awhile? I mean, I know it’s not the weekend, but-“
“Of course you can,” she responds without missing a beat. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long and as often as you want.” But there’s a burning question needing to be answered. “But… what about Emma?”
“I don’t care about Emma anymore,” he grumbles, and practically stomps past her into the house.
He heads up the stairs and she follows, watching as he flings himself onto his bed. This certainly lines up with what Emma had been talking about last night.
But maybe it’s best if she doesn’t think about Emma right now, and instead focuses on Henry. So she leans on the door frame and asks, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Henry faces away from her and shakes his head. She nods unseen, expecting as much from him. So she tries a different tack. “Would you like some chocolate milk?” and she thinks that will hook him. It’s very seldom she allows him to drink the sugar-ridden beverage, but his dire mood may just call for it.
Surprisingly, he shakes his head again. So Regina raises her brows and sighs, placing a hand on the knob. “Alright! Well, I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready to come down.” And she’s halfway out the door when she hears him sitting up and turning to face her.
“Why didn't she just tell me who my dad really was? I mean I already knew that she had me in jail, so why couldn't she just be honest?”
She sighs once again, going to sit beside him on his bed. “Henry… there’s something you should know.”
He looks up at her as she wraps an arm around his shoulder. She looks down at him with a remorseful frown on her face, hoping he can see the sincerity in her eyes.
“What?” he asks, looking so terribly innocent.
She’s about to shift his hatred off Emma and onto herself. “It’s my fault that Emma didn't tell you the truth.”
“What?” Now he looks confused, leaning back a bit so her arm slips from him. “How?”
Regina takes in a breath through her nose, breathing it out slowly. She’s already given her son enough reasons to hate her - what’s one more nail in the coffin? “Because, I made Sidney print that story about her.”
“How she had me in jail?” he clarifies, and she nods. He looks away. “Oh.”
“I’m so sorry, Henry.” She reaches for his hand, holding on for as long as he’ll let her. “It was when she first got here, and we weren't getting along. I was afraid she was going to take you away from me, and-"
“It’s okay,” he says, sounding surprisingly calm about the whole thing.
Now it’s Regina’s turn to lean back, and she stares at him in disbelief. Why isn't he throwing a fit and telling her he hates her? Why isn't he running back to Emma at this very moment? “It is?”
He nods, giving her a small smile. “I already forgave all those mean things you did last year.” Shrugging, he tells her, “You’re a different person now. You’re a good person.”
She smiles, wrapping her arm around him again. “Thank you.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head before she leans her cheek on it, her hand rubbing up and down his upper arm. After a moment, she says quietly, “Do you know who else is a good person?” She looks down at him and thinks he knows what’s coming. He doesn’t respond, so she says, “Emma. Emma is a good person.”
“Then… why did she lie?”
“Because she was scared,” she tells him, hugging him to her. “She was scared because of what was in the paper. And… I don’t think you’ll fully understand this until you get older, but…” She looks him in the eye, telling him the same thing she told his mother the night before. “Honesty is tricky sometimes. Especially when it has the potential to disappoint or hurt other people.”
“Emma said once that sometimes she lies when she’s scared, too, so… I guess that makes sense.”
Regina nods and drops a kiss to the top of his head again. Then his comment catches up with her - she lies when she’s scared.
To Henry, she asks, “Do you feel a little better now?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready to make amends with Emma?”
At that, he shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Okay,” she says, and smooths her skirt as she rises from his bed and watches him turn on his side again. He’s always been a very introspective little boy, and she knows he’ll need a little time to process what they've discussed.
So she leaves him alone and heads back downstairs, thinking things over. If Emma lies when she’s scared, then that perhaps meant that her kiss last night - and all the magic and passion behind it - was in fact real; so real, that it frightened her into lying, and denying there was nothing of substance there.
She breathes a sigh and tilts her head, saying aloud to herself, “Well sorry, Emma. It’s time to put on your big-girl pants.”
Not long after she says it, the doorbell rings. And this time the tightening of her stomach tells her exactly who’s on the other side. So she steels herself - checks her appearance in the mirror again - and strides as confidently as she can manage over to the door, pulling it open. And there she stands - sheriff, savior, owner of a pool of denial.
For a moment, neither one of them say anything - they just assess each other. She watches Emma swallow and take half a step forward, asking, “Are we still speaking?”
“It would seem so,” she replies, allowing just a hint of a smirk.
She watches, for the second time in the last several days, as Emma heaves a sigh of relief, confident that the state of their relationship remains intact. Little does she know…
“I-I just wanted to see if-"
“Henry was here?” she finishes, nodding when Emma does. “He is. He’s upstairs.”
Wincing a little, she surmises, “Still pissed at me, huh?”
Regina smiles. “He’ll get past it. He always does.”
Emma nods, searching her eyes. Regina just watches her, unwilling to let her poker face slide. The blonde takes another step forward. “In that case, um… maybe you and I can talk?”
Regina nods, and closes the door behind herself as she joins Emma on the front stoop. “Certainly. Let’s talk.”
“When I said last night, that we’re done? I’m really sorry. I didn't mean that. I think things just got a little heated…” to herself, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “Again, and…” then she looks up. “And I just needed some space.”
She nods. It’s the same song and dance number she heard days ago. “I know.”
Emma looks up and meets her eyes, brows lifting again. “You do?”
“Yes. And… I know you didn't mean what you said.” She watches as relief floods the blonde’s face for the second time, before she gets ready to wipe it clean off as she adds, “But you had a point.”
Predictably, the expression on Emma’s face shifts from relief to confusion. “About what?”
“The idea of being done. I think…” She nods slowly. “I think perhaps we've reached that point.”
“Whoa, wait.” Emma waves her arms, one hand resting on the stone column - the very same one Whale had Regina pinned against when the blonde swooped in to save her - and she looks at her in disbelief. “Regina, what are you talking about?”
“Well Emma,” she takes a step in and they’re in one another’s space again. Never a foreign concept but she really needs it to hammer the point home. “You said before when this happened the first time that you just needed space. So you ran.” She sees her open her mouth for a rebuttal but doesn’t give her a chance. “Just like last night. You needed some space, and out the door you went once again.”
“Regina-"
Regina shakes her head, searching her eyes as she asks in a hushed tone, “Aren't you tired? Tired of running, of needing some space? Aren't you tired of being afraid to own up to how you feel?” Another attempt is made by the blonde to open her mouth, and again Regina cuts her off. “I am. I’m very tired.”
“So…” Emma frowns at her through her lashes. “What are you saying?”
Regina tilts her head. She reaches out and touches a piece of Emma’s long blonde hair. Moments come to her at once of drunken giggling, of grabbing one another’s hands, of having someone to lean on. Then, she looks up, their eyes meeting. “I’m saying exactly what you said to me last night - I think we’re done here.”
“Regina…” She thinks she can hear the blonde’s voice catching.
A lump is rising in her own throat, too, but she has to push forward. She can’t go back on her decision. It’s for the best… for both of them.
Emma pleads with her. “Please, think about what you’re saying.”
“I have,” she tells her, releasing the slice of hair from between her fingertips. “I thought about it all night. And I’m sorry, but… I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
She watches Emma swallow, and she can see moisture gathering in her eyes as she grabs her hand. “You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine,” she tells her, squeezing her hand for what may very well be the last time. She looks down and watches her thumb massage Emma’s knuckles. She forces herself to let go, and to take a step back. “But… the way I feel about you?” She swallows, shaking her head. “It’s bigger than that. It’s much bigger. And if you insist you’ll never feel the same, then I need to cut my losses. Because this-" She gestures between them. “Whatever this is? It’s only going to hurt me.”
There’s nothing left to do then but say goodbye. Emma looks like she’s at a complete loss for words, and that she could possibly cry soon. Regina’s torn between wanting to make it better and being glad. She musters the last vestiges of strength she has as she lifts her head to meet the blonde’s watery eyes, telling her, “I’ll drop Henry off tomorrow. He should be feeling better by then.”
Emma merely nods, mouth still slack at what’s just happened. She looks devastated and confused, and probably many more things that can’t yet be enumerated. Swallowing her emotion, Regina lifts her chin and opens her front door, going inside.
Emma begins to follow, voice pregnant with unshed tears. “Regina, don’t-"
Her voice is quiet, sad as she says, “Goodbye, Emma.” Then she shuts the door and leans against it with her forehead, forcing the tears at bay.
She presses her hand to the hard surface, completely unaware of the savior doing the same thing on the other side of the door.
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon_fanfic and regina_emma}