Minutes to Midnight
Recommended Listening: Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, John Mayer
If there was any part of Emma's awareness that wasn't consumed with Regina, she would have known that midnight was fast approaching, but beneath the moonlight and the hollowed space that mellowed languid chords, every step had been in surrender to the moment. She hadn't meant for it to be so intimate and certainly hadn't expected to feel so vulnerable. There was something about Regina's presence that stripped her down, almost ruthlessly, until she felt as thin and translucent as a leaf of crepe paper.
When Regina's hand slipped from her shoulder to encircle her back and hug her close, Emma allowed herself to release what little grip she had over the veil of pretence that was their friendship. Lost in sensation, she rested her check against Regina's hair and felt herself sigh, a deep breath of forfeit which resounded between their chests.
Emma was struck by the thought that this was how dancing was supposed to feel - like unspoken desire conveyed through the gentle sway of hips, the warm pressure of bodies melting into one another and the closeness of pounding heart against heart, all moving as one, as if tethered, in slow, perfect synchrony. In Regina's arms, time was no longer a construct and she was no longer the Saviour. Gone was the burden of expectation that had rested on her shoulders, along with the uncertainty of tomorrow.
As the music began to fade, they gradual drifted to a standstill. Emma felt Regina's hand return to her shoulder and her fingers faintly brush the back of her neck. Regina's other hand, which was clasped in her own, had somehow come to rest on her chest, their fingers intertwined at her collar bone. Reluctantly, Emma moved her cheek away and leaned back slightly, but the movement only succeeded in bringing their faces closer together. The last, bending chord seemed to oscillate in the tense space between their stifled breaths and interlocked gazes.
"It's almost midnight."
The low murmur snapped her back to reality. Releasing her hands, Emma stepped back from Regina. "I'll drive you," she offered. She expected Regina to decline, but she only smiled and nodded.
Shifting the handbrake upwards, Emma brought the Bug to a wailing halt on Mifflin Street. She glanced at the clock mounted in her dashboard. Ten to twelve. Just enough time to make it back to the station for her parents to bestow her guardianship over Neal. The passenger door creaked open as Regina exited and Emma quickly followed suit to join her on the pathway. Regina hugged her arms tightly around herself, shielding her bare skin from the chilled air.
"Here." Emma began to slip her jacket off but Regina swiftly stepped forward, resting both hands above hers to hold the lapels firmly shut.
"I'm not going to freeze from here to my door," Regina assured, the amusement in her voice filtering through red lips, curled upwards in the smallest of smiles. "Go, there isn't much time. Your parents will be worried."
Emma was not one to make promises. In her limited experience as the recipient of them, she found that they were too easily broken. Knowing that Regina would be confined to the lonely mansion until she could find a way to break the curse pained her physically. So she made a promise, one she intended to keep, "I'll be back soon."
Loosening her grip on her jacket, Regina only nodded in response but Emma was close enough to see a flicker of doubt pass over her moonlit features. Knowing that it was not her words that she doubted, Emma caught Regina's gaze, searching for the source of her ambivalence for a long moment. She was mystified. Her dark eyes resembled the dense, shimmering cloud that swathed the stars above, for they appeared to be charged with conflict which threatened to descend upon them at any moment.
For one heart stopping second, Regina's gaze dipped downward and Emma was no longer confused. The realisation that Regina could, with one glance, so easily manipulate the natural rhythm of her heart, made her breath catch. She felt herself lean forward slightly as Regina drew nearer and then a soft, almost imperceptible pressure at her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. A hot breath caressed her cheek in a low, maddening whisper, "Goodnight, Emma."
And with that, Regina withdrew and turned on her heel, leaving Emma behind in the bitter breeze, lingering in scent of her delicate perfume. Spellbound, Emma touched a hand to her cheek, still flush with the imprint of warm lips and watched Regina walk through the corridor of pallid roses, towards the mansion that would serve as her container.
Emma didn't care if it was selfish or even if it made any sense, but she wanted more. Watching the line of yellow interior light being encapsulated within the lessening gap of the door and frame, she was overcome with desire. She needed to be on the other side of that door. Without warning, her vision was clouded by a whirling, white mist. Emma closed her eyes, feeling a strange disorientation envelop her. It was followed by a powerful tugging sensation to her extremities, as if her limbs were trying to escape their sockets. But there was no pain. When she opened her eyes, she was standing on the glossy, hardwood floor of Regina's foyer.
Regina stood with her back against the front door, mouth unhinged in astonishment at Emma's apparition, "How did –"
Before she could utter another word, Emma took two determined steps toward her, slid a hand around the nape of her neck and pulled their mouths together. For all the roughness of her unexpected entrance, their lips met softly. Regina closed her eyes, fully immersed in the searing sensation of Emma's lips pressed passionately against her own, moving slowly to part her mouth and claim her bottom lip.
Emma's mouth tasted faintly of champagne and felt as though it had retained the liquid's effervescence for the slightest movement of lips caused a bubbling flood to spill through her body, arousing a visceral need which they had no time to fulfil. She felt deft fingers glide up her neck and entrench themselves in her hair. She responded by slipping her hands underneath Emma's jacket, over her ribs and down to her waist, pulling their hips together. Regina knew it was wrong. If Emma knew the truth about what she had done, how close she had come to killing her, she wouldn't have been here, kissing her senseless.
Holding her lips just out of reach, Regina breathed out in exasperation, "We can't."
Exerting all her restraint, Emma pulled back, but only enough to lock gazes with Regina. Her breath was ragged. The sight of Regina's smudged, scarlet lips and black eyes, wild with thirst, did little to calm her. She wanted to convince Regina with words, to say she wanted this, wanted her, desperately. Instead, Emma let her mouth do the persuasion and captured the lips she had denied herself for so long.
Despite the scream of Regina's better judgement her body betrayed her. Her mouth had been coaxed open and all self-control lost to the urgency of the approaching midnight hour. Taking hold of Emma's hips, Regina switched their positions. She pushed the blonde roughly against the wall, swallowing her gasp of surprise and reuniting their lips once more.
Emma delighted in Regina's dominance and matched it with her own, swiping her tongue against, and then past full lips. She tugged at the coarse netting around Regina's waist, guiding her backwards and up shallow steps. They moved together, heels stumbling across the wooden floor, until the backs of Regina's thighs hit the hard edge of a table. Their lips broke contact momentarily. Emma leaned into and reached behind Regina to slide a vase aside, the sweet aroma of roses and the woman's skin fogging her mind.
Regina wasted no time and turned her attention to the exposed neck before her, lightly sucking and licking at the thrumming pulse beneath fair skin. Emma released a deliciously low sigh into her ear that raised the hairs on her neck. Both their breaths had grown heavy and Regina wasn't quite sure whose was louder or which belonged to her. And she didn't care. Weaving her fingers into thick, blonde hair, she brought Emma's mouth to hers, rolled a lower lip between her teeth and bit down, lightly. This time, Emma groaned and she smiled wickedly in satisfaction.
Seizing the round curves of Regina's hips, Emma ground the weight of her body into them, launching her up and onto the table. The deep moan that erupted from Regina's throat, echoed in the empty space around them and vibrated against Emma's mouth, the sensory combination alone almost enough to make her come undone. She felt herself being drawn closer by powerful thighs that wrapped themselves around her legs. Regina's questing hands found their way through her jacket and started yanking her shirt free. One hand squeezed its way into her back pocket while the other sensually slid beneath her shirt and over her bare back, sending shivers down her spine.
With a handful of perfectly sculpted flesh in her hand, Regina's awareness hazily floated into logical thought. "You have to go," she exhaled against Emma's lips. She released her from between her thighs, but Emma made no attempt to leave. The blonde placed a finger beneath her chin tilted her head upwards. Regina cursed her lips for the way they parted in response to the touch. Emma lingered at her lips, a hair's breadth away, daring her to make her leave.
Defeated, Regina shut her eyes and closed the distance between them. Emma sucked on her swollen bottom lip and released it with a pop. She felt Emma smile against her mouth. "Goodnight, Regina."
Emma stepped away all at once. She turned and leisurely strolled towards to front door. Regina watched Emma walk away, noting her tousled curls and crinkled, white shirttail peeking below the hem of her slim jacket. Emma exited, not looking back and Regina waved her hand over the front door, casting a spell over it. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, taking a moment to collect herself. Placing both hands on either side, she slid off the table. Her knees buckled as she put her full weight on her feet. She caught herself on the table's edge and threw her head back, laughing crazily to herself.
Emma was in dire need of an Arctic blast after she left Regina but had settled for a cold shower once she returned home. Fortunately, her parents had not questioned her late arrival and the majority of Storybrooke residents were asleep when the curse hit. She left the station unscathed with Neal, Elsa and Anna, leaving behind her bickering parents and Anna's fiancée, Kristoff.
With sunrise came the first sign that the curse had truly descended: the sound of shattering of glass. Emma had not slept. She had only tossed in her bed wishing for sleep that never came. Gathering a crying Neal in her arms, she crept into the kitchen to find that Elsa and Anna had already woken to the noise. They stood on either side of a thick, burgundy brick. It had clearly smashed through her front window with great force, as evidenced by the trail of glass that had travelled several feet from it's entry point. Elsa reversed the damage with a flick of her wrist. Emma watched the random array of broken pieces soar backward through the air, glinting in the golden dawn light as they reunited into one pane. If only it were that easy, she thought.
Over a hurried breakfast, Emma listened to Anna's theory for breaking the curse and shared her own plan for freeing themselves of the ribbons that prevented them from harming the Snow Queen. She glanced sideways to Elsa, who fiddled with the lemon coloured ribbon around her wrist. She doubted whether Regina's hatred would be enough to dissolve the magic ribbons. After all, no matter how misguided, they had been forged by love. However, at this point, the Snow Queen's dream of Elsa and Emma becoming her sisters was almost fully realised and there was no hunch not worthy of investigation.
Anna eyed her spoonful of cereal in fascination. "How can something that smells like nothing taste so good?"
"Mmm," hummed Elsa in agreement, bringing her bowl to her nose.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about the Snow Queen?" Emma asked.
"You must be careful. She is powerful and cunning," Anna began, "Also, extraordinarily patient - I mean she was trapped in an urn all those years - if she weren't completely delusional, I would applaud her effort. Are you sure this Regina can do what you say she can? How can you be sure she's evil?"
"If she's wearing something dark and low cut," Emma stated flatly, gulping down the rest of her milk, "In my experience, up and out only means one thing in fairy tale land."
"Told you," Elsa smirked. She caught Anna's eyes and they both laughed.
The drive to Regina's through Main Street was chaos. Having spent most of her life in big cities, Emma had often romanticised small town life. With its residents trying to tear each other apart, Storybrooke had ceased being the quaint town she had come to know so well. She looked out the window and glimpsed Leroy trying to wrestle Pongo's leash from Archie's grasp and overheard Ruby telling where Granny could stick her bow and arrow. It appeared that knowing people too well also had its downside.
"Do you have a plan once the ribbons are removed?" Elsa asked as they walked toward the white mansion.
"Yeah, run like hell. If that doesn't work, I'm sure I can get us out of there," Emma replied, breaking through Regina's containment spell, "Did I mention I can teleport now?"
Entering the house, they rounded the corner into the library, where they were met with an impressive eyeful of cleavage and Regina's default weapon of choice. Emma was quick to react. Feeling the heat of a fireball as it narrowly rocketed past her ear, she encased it with her own magic and directed it towards their yellow bands.
"That seemed deceptively simple," Elsa said dryly.
"I've kept you around for too long, Swan." Regina's voice was low and harsh as it passed through her bared teeth. "To think, I could have saved myself the misery of your existence and killed you last week."
"What are you talking about?" Emma knew from witnessing her parents fighting under the curse's influence not to take her words to heart. However, she also knew that a kernel of truth lurked beneath the surface of their insults. An ominous sense of premonition twisted her gut. There was depth to the other woman's rage which contorted her expression into pure disdain, one that she recognised from the time she travelled to Regina's reign as Queen.
Regina smiled a vicious grin which almost turned her eyes to slits. She produced a familiar, yellowed page from within her dress and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "Recognise this?"
"Mom," Henry cried, running into Regina's outstretched arms.
"Henry, I'm so glad you're safe. You weren't in the office."
"I'm okay. Have you seen Mom? She was here a second ago."
Regina had a feeling she knew where Emma was. The Snow Queen had reversed her curse, but everyone's memory under its spell remained. "Wait with Snow and David, I'll be back."
Purple plume dissipated around Regina she appeared in her library, her heels gently sinking into the soft, maroon carpet. A number of books had been displaced from the shelf and were strewn about the floor and across her desk, as if they had been searched one by one. Emma sat on the sofa, in the same spot she had on the night they met. A brown, leather bound spell book rested on her lap. Unfolded and laid open in the exact place it had been torn from, lay the single sheet of parchment that Regina had, at every opportunity, fought to conceal from the other woman.
The evidence was irrefutable. It was her words, involuntarily expelled from her own mouth, which had led Emma back to her house, to her library and finally, to her betrayal. The page was a perfect match. Emma looked up at her, the gravity of fresh realisation glistening in her green eyes. The silence stretched between them and her stomach churned with sick anticipation. She knew that once words were spoken, the pathetic shred of hope she that still clung to would certainly dissolve.
"Tell me this isn't yours," Emma said, feeling as though all the moisture in her mouth had been sucked dry. Regina's silence told her everything. She only needed to look into Regina's chocolate eyes, drowning in deep wells of tears, for confirmation. "Do you even know how fucked up this is?" she yelled. She balled the page in her fist and threw the heavy book aside to stand. She struggled to contain her tears. Her voice shook uncontrollably and she chocked over her words, "You tried to kill me and I –"
Regina grabbed Emma's elbow and slid her hand down, frantically grasping for fingers that were pushing her away. She followed Emma into the foyer, where they had, so recently, succumb to desire. "Emma," she pleaded. The desperate cry that escaped her throat repulsed her. She reached up to cradle Emma's neck, hot tears flowing freely down the length of her nose and cheeks. "You don't understand."
"No, you don't understand!" Emma shouted. Her eyes watered furiously, she could scarcely see the face of the brunette before her. "I knew! I knew you were lying when you looked me in the eyes and told me you hadn't seen this before. God, I am an idiot."
"Let me explain."
"Regina, please," Emma cried, gasping for air, which now seemed infinitely insufficient, "I can't think. I can barely breathe when I'm around you."
Regina grabbed Emma's head with both hands. "Look at me. Am I lying? I don't know why I did it. It was an impulse, a stupid impulse. But I do know this, I know I'm–"
"Don't you dare say it," Emma said threateningly. Using what little energy she had left, she removed Regina's hands from her face and backed away.
Regina exhaled a shuddering breath. "You know me."
"Do I Regina? You know what I know? I know that you secretly love French fries and you take one off Henry's plate when he's not looking," Emma sniffed, wiping away the tears that stung her eyes. "I know that you bite your lip when you're excited. I know that every time you look down, you tuck your hair behind your ears. I know that before you smile, your mouth pulls slightly to the right first. I know those all of these things, but I don't know you, not really. And I don't think anyone has even come close."
Regina had suffered physical blows less painful than Emma's words. They punched her chest, stole the air from her lungs and still had enough bite to remain suspended in the air as she walked away. Regina wanted her to look back. If she looked back it would be sign that there was still a chance for them, that their bond was unshakable. And for one exultant moment, Emma did, she swung the door open and turned over her shoulder, but what she saw was not a chance for redemption. There was only devastation.