Piano Expression
Recommended Listening: Claude Debussy : Clair de Lune, for Piano (Suite Bergamasque No. 3)
Twenty minutes later Emma sat in her Bug outside 108 Mifflin Street silently congratulating her borderline teenage son for successfully pulling off puppy dog eyes. While she was trapped in his pleading gaze, Henry had hastily ushered her out the door. Disregarding Emma's incomprehensible utterances of protest, he wished her luck, shoved a glass container of warm pie into her hands and swiftly closed the door. The boy truly had the makings of a master manipulator. It would only be a matter of years before he was controlling her like one of his video game characters. Regina would never allow herself to be so easily influenced, she was sure if it.
Staring at the shadows cast across the moonlit white siding of the colonial mansion, Emma contemplated the act of idiocy she was about to attempt. Given that it was only early evening, she was slightly suspicious of the absence of light in the windows. Emma reluctantly walked up to the grand, pillar supported entrance. She pounded on the heavy white door with three drawn out knocks, listening intently for noise on the other side. She tried to imagine what Henry would say. He'd probably tell her to use to key and go fix this mess.
"Yes Emma, listen to the hormone addled brain of your son," she muttered crazily to herself. Sighing in defeat, she recovered a silvery key from the shallow pocket of her leather jacket.
After opening the door as quietly as humanly possible, she cautiously stepped into the foyer. She shivered. The silence was eerie. Moonlight streamed past open curtains, casting elongated shadows across the expanse of the first floor visible to her. Emma imagined, not for the first time, how Regina had lived alone in this enormous, empty mansion before Henry. Her boots echoed softly against the polished hardwood floors as she shifted to the base of the stairs. She craned her neck to inspect the upstairs. Noting no artificial light, Emma assumed Regina must be asleep. She was turning to leave when she heard it. Delicate music drifted down the staircase.
Curious, Emma followed the origin of the ominous nocturne, soundlessly climbing steps and passing rooms she never knew existed, until the music gradually gained clarity. The further she travelled down the long, dark, hallway, the cooler the air became. She came to a halt outside the last room. Although the door was left ajar, the angle only allowed her to see a book shelf as she squinted into the darkness. Holding her breath, she stepped inside just as the crescendo began.
Regina sat at a grand piano positioned in front of a large open window. Translucent curtains, full with the cool, evening air, billowed gently behind her like miniature sails. A number of small flames, which seemed to be suspended in mid-air above the piano, bathed the surrounding space in warm amber light. Regina's hair, her hunched shoulders and torso, all swayed lazily in unison as her thin fingers expertly navigated across ink and ivory coloured keys. Emma didn't know if it was the cold or the music that caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps while listening to the familiar arrangement.
The piece itself possessed a delicate and romantic nature, but the way in which Regina played was enchanting. Each note was laced with such a sense of melancholy, Emma's heart ached at the sorrowful expression. She stood transfixed, listening to the haunting notes reverberate off the walls of the small room. As the composition came to a close, Emma realised two things – her eyes were rapidly welling up and she was still holding her breath. On her inhale, the room was instantly flooded with fluorescent light, causing Emma to shield her eyes from the painful adjustment they were forced to make.
Just as quickly as the light appeared, it was replaced by darkness. Regina's conjured flash of brightness had aided her in identifying the blonde trespasser. Although the intrusion warranted more anger, she felt subdued. Sensing the heat from her throat extending towards her extremities, she attributed this sense of clam to the copious amount of cider she had consumed since arriving home.
"You have certainly elevated stalking to a new level Miss Swan," Regina's voice rang out in the darkness.
"Henry was worried about you. He gave me the key," Emma said, deciding to stick to the truth as she turned to wipe away a single tear on the verge of escaping from the corner of her eye.
If Regina wasn't already hot from the alcohol, the information that Henry was worried about her would have warmed her. Regina reignited the small, magical flames with a flick of her wrist. "My relationship with my son is none of your concern."
"Our son," Emma corrected. Although past experience had conditioned a fear response at the sight of flames wielded by the Mayor, Emma sensed that she would not be in any danger. Looking directly at Regina now, she was taken aback by her appearance. In the simple silk robe, without her heels and layers of clothes, she seemed so tiny. Her obvious weight loss and pale complexion highlighted high cheek bones and sunken eyes, rimmed with dark circles.
"In any case Sheriff," Regina said, emphasising the formal title, "I think we can both agree that breaking and entering is still breaking and entering, even when it's done with a key." Regina retrieved her empty glass from the top of the piano and proceeded to the table housing her collection of hard liquor, walking slowly to hide her unbalanced gait. "If I'm not mistaken, there is a council meeting tomorrow. Couldn't whatever this is…," Regina motioned towards Emma, "have waited until morning?"
Emma watched Regina cross the room, flock of flames trailing obediently behind her. "Will you listen to me tomorrow?"
A long silence followed as Regina filled her glass with golden brown spirit from a crystal decanter.
"What are you doing here Miss Swan?" Regina finally said before taking a prolonged sip of whiskey.
"I didn't know you played piano," said Emma casually, ignoring the question.
"Contrary to what you might believe Miss Swan, you don't know everything about me," Regina replied, strolling leisurely towards Emma.
"You know I didn't mean it like that, Regina. That was Debussy right?" Emma enquired, mildly pleased Regina had been distracted by her earlier question.
"I didn't know bail bonds person school included such a comprehensive education in the arts," Regina said, barely succeeding to hold back a smirk as she moved further into Emma's space. Regina wanted the Sheriff gone. Her first impulse was to fling her glass at the irritating blonde, but she doubted the object would find it's intended destination in her current incapacitated state. She was going to have to try a subtler approach at expelling Swan from her house.
"Hey, I can have an appreciation for the classical stuff," Emma replied feinting offence. "My Bug, for example, is a classic." Emma was enjoying the effect alcohol was having on bringing out the regular, witty Regina. However, she was also growing uneasy about Regina's shrinking physical proximity in relation to herself. The Mayor was an arm's length away from her and clearer than ever. Despite Regina's haggard appearance, she still looked remarkably beautiful.
Regina scoffed at Emma's retort, advancing further forward, "As much as I would love to educate you on what constitutes -"
"Look Regina," Emma said loudly, interrupting Regina. The brunette had crossed the bounds of what she deemed to be the appropriate amount of personal space. She stepped backwards in order to put some distance between them. "I came because Henry was worried about you. Also, I wanted to give you some…" Emma lost her train of thought when she caught the smell of alcohol on Regina's breath.
"Give me some?" Regina questioned with an inquisitive raise of her eyebrow. She inched forward to restore the lost closeness, grinning broadly. Emma looked like a deer in headlights.
"Pie," Emma blurted out, backing out of the room, "I left the pie in the car."
"Miss Swan, I don't want your pie."
"Henry made it. Just give me a sec," called Emma from the hallway, "I'll go get it."
Regina listened to Emma's oaf-like footsteps thundering down her pristinely maintained stairs. She tried her best to follow Emma as quickly as she could, but the last glass of whiskey had been the tipping point between mildly and severely impaired movement. She managed to stagger the length of the hallway and brace herself against the handrails of the staircase in just enough time. She positioned herself in the doorway just as the Sheriff was about to cross the threshold.
Emma stopped abruptly when her entrance inside had been blocked.
Regina pried the container from Emma's grasp. "Sheriff, you have a stain," Regina said, looking down at Emma's shirt with a displeased expression.
Emma glanced downwards, inspecting her grey shirt, "There's no - "
Regina didn't hear the rest of the sentence over the sound of the door slamming shut. "Well that was just too easy," she laughed to herself as she opened the container, inhaling the delicious aroma wafting from its contents.
A/N: Thanks for your helpful suggestions last chapter.