The Fourth Time
The fourth time Emma appeared, Regina was already asleep. Her own dream was uncomfortable, and though it wasn’t enough to rouse her, she found herself somewhat grateful for the reprieve. She snapped out of sleep without any of the usual groggy overcast. Her brain must have been expecting the visitor.
Her hand padded about the other side of the bed in search of the blonde, and when it found her, it snaked around her shoulders to pull her over. Emma fell into the comfort, snuggling close without even the barest hint of resistance. She seemed to calm somewhat as her head flopped against Regina’s side, and Regina allowed herself a moment of peace.
Regina liked being this person. Though she’d never enjoyed seeing her son in pain, she had relished in being the person he had run to. Before Cora had completely marred their relationship, she had taken pride in the look of trust on Snow’s young face. Even now, she enjoyed being the person Emma called when she needed help. Only with Emma did she truly feel she was the person she had been meant to be.
Rubbing gentle circles into Emma’s back, she allowed her eyes to adjust to being awake. She hadn’t closed the curtains properly before going to bed, and a soft streetlight was illuminating the room just enough to see by. As she glanced over Emma, she smiled to herself. The younger woman was wrapped in the robe she had loaned her on her previous visit.
Emma whimpered against her, and Regina whispered the words nobody had ever said to her. “You’re safe, dear. I’ve got you.”
She squeezed gently for emphasis. Sooner or later, they would have to talk about this. Emma couldn’t go on indefinitely without sleep, nor could she continue with whatever was causing these dreams. If it wouldn’t break Emma’s confidence, she would ask Archie to speak with her. But she couldn’t do that. Emma trusted her – that much was sure – and breaking that trust would cause considerably more harm than good.
Another whimper, and it was clear the comfort wasn’t settling her. She ran her hand gently through Emma’s hair and prompted, “it’s just a nightmare. Wake up. Emma. Emma.”
Emma scrambled up, her hands pawing futilely around the bed in search of something. Regina reached across to click on the light, and Emma calmed. She shuffled forward slightly to rest her hand on Emma’s back, trilling internally when the gesture wasn’t rejected.
Emma rubbed her hands across her face and mumbled, “I gotta stop doing this.”
“You’re the only one complaining.” A light blush coloured her cheeks. Emma turned with a scrutinising stare as Regina tried to hold her confidence following the accidental comment. Not that it wasn’t true, but she feared it was an unwelcomed addition to the situation.
“What time is it?”
Regina threw her head back to check the digital clock perched by the side of her bed. “Almost four.”
Emma craned around to confirm. A somewhat disbelieving voice mumbled, “longest I’ve managed in a while.”
She pulled the robe tighter around her, as though taking some comfort in it. Wisely, Regina didn’t comment. Instead, she asked, “how long have you been having them?”
“This time, or generally?” A hollow laugh rang from her.
Regina shrugged, “either.”
Emma shuffled back so she could rest against the headboard, and Regina draped her hand over Emma’s knee. “They started again when I came back from the past.”
A stab of guilt ripped through Regina’s heart. They started with her. They started with things Regina had done a very long time ago, which seemed to be the theme of the last month or so. Robin, Marian. In the end, everything came down to the person she used to be.
Emma turned to her, a well of tears damming behind her eyes. There was both an auditory and visible shake when she confessed, “I couldn’t save her.”
In a gesture that would have seemed unfathomable not long ago, Regina pulled the younger woman flush against her chest, wrapping her arms as tight as she could manage without suffocating her. Words Emma hadn’t said flew about her brain. From you. The end of the sentence lingered like cigarette smoke in the air, choking them both.
But Emma wasn’t blaming her. She had come here regardless of everything she had seen. In fact, despite everything Emma had witnessed first-hand, she wasn’t treating Regina any differently than she had before. She had still insisted on being her friend, despite the forcefulness in which Regina had pushed her away. She was still here.
“Of all the people who need saving, Mary Margaret should not be top of your list.” A million memories flashed through her brain all at once. “Trust me, she is not that easy to kill.”
A half-laugh-half-sob ripped from Emma, and Regina couldn’t help but smile. Honestly, at times she wondered if Snow was as immortal as Rumple. It would certainly make sense. She pulled Emma a little closer, rubbing her hand firmly up and down the younger woman’s arm. Regina remembered that day vividly. The warm satisfaction at having killed her enemy, which dwindled far too quickly, leaving her empty. She had been almost relived to find her alive. Hunting Snow White had given her purpose.
She spoke cautiously, testing the waters, afraid that she might accidently spook her walls back up. “Henry mentioned you’d had nightmares in New York.”
Emma nodded, shifting back slightly as she hummed in the affirmative. “Yeah, I tried to keep it from him but he’s…”
“Observant.” Regina supplied.
“I was gonna say ‘nosey’ but sure.” The corner of Emma’s lip quirked up at the thought of their relentless son. It dropped. “I think I was dreaming of Storybrooke.”
Regina’s stomach soured. A wave of frustration at her own assumptions coursed through her. Perhaps she couldn’t entirely clear the memories of Storybrooke from Emma’s brain – she was the saviour, after all – but she had foolishly allowed herself to believe it meant the part of her that remembered longed for them as much as they did for her. After everything that had happened, of course the remnant of memories of this place had come with fear. Why else would Emma have been so insistent on leaving again?
Emma didn’t feel for Storybrooke the way Regina did. The fact that she thought she might was truly laughable.
Too much time was passing without a reply, and an awkward air began to loom. Still, she couldn’t push aside her own hurt long enough to prevent it. The best Regina could do was continue her ministrations on Emma’s arm, hoping the contact gave the words she couldn’t find. Fortunately, Emma was the sort to have to fill an uncomfortable silence whether she was making it better or not.
Large, watery eyes turned to Regina as though searching. “I just…couldn’t shake the feeling I’d lost something. Something that mattered. You know?”
Oh. She swallowed down her own emotion, hoping the room was dark enough to hide it. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
She had missed both of them dearly during that year. Of course, it was expected for her to miss her son but Emma…well, Emma was right. There was something between them. Emma was the first real friend she'd had in her entire life. If absolutely nothing else, Emma was forever interesting.
Emma took in a deep breath. It was only then Regina noticed that Emma had stopped shaking and her tears had dried. Emma pushed away whatever emotion remained and said in a too-casual voice, “thanks, doc. I’ll try to make an appointment next time.”
She climbed out of the bed, leaving a cold vacuum in her wake. Regina pulled the sheets closer to regain the feeling of contact. She expected her to wave her hands and disappear all at once, but Emma seemed to be frozen in place, her eyes shifting between the bed and the floor like she didn’t quite want to leave.
Emma's lips twitched, a question wanting to be asked. Regina couldn’t help but say, “was there anything else?”
She shook off whatever had been on her mind, much like Henry had done only yesterday. “No, nothing.”
The smoke took her out into the night once more.