Work Text
«It's been a long, long time since I've memorized your face
It's been four hours now since I've wandered through your place
And when I sleep on your couch I feel very safe
And when you bring the blankets I cover up my face
I do love you »« And I would say I love you, but saying it out loud
It's hard so I won't say it at all
And I won't stay very long »
Sufjan Stevens; Futile devices When Emma takes the dark one’s curse to save Regina, she doesn’t see her again for four days. Four days that drag on and on until Regina feels wired and constantly on edge. Four days she spends consoling Henry that everything will be fine even though she hardly believes it herself, and bickering with Snow about the limitations of magic and how she is doing her best. And she is, doing her best that is, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. It never is. Four days where she becomes familiar with a curse of her own, her curse is named Emma Swan, it follows her through sleep and work and latches on to every mundane thing in Regina’s life. This haunting of hers is fueled by fear; fear that she will never see Emma again. And then more fear, because she feels her absence like a physical thing, like a lack or a hollowness that settles into her body, that makes her breathing feel shallow and labored, her food taste blend and her sleep evasive and restless. And fear again because when did the blonde woman become so important to her, when did she take up so much space in Regina’s life that her absence is simply unbearable.And then on the fifth day Emma just shows up in her office. She had woken way too early that morning and had been forcing herself to go through the motions of her usual routine all day long. When the smoke dissipates and Regina’s left with the sight of Emma, time almost freezes. And if she weren’t such an expert on magic, and what it can and can’t do, she really would have believed that they had come unstuck in time and that it was all Emma’s doing. But time, forever untouched by the fears and needs of men, goes on, and with it the silence in Regina’s office. She takes the blonde in for a long time, first there is the fact that she is not so much blond anymore but silver haired and red lipped. And then there's the way she carries herself, in her all black outfit and her heels and her rigid, straight as an arrow posture. But then they lock eyes, and her whole demeanor, her tough act is refuted beyond doubt. Revealed to Regina’s eyes, singly Regina’s eyes, as just that. An act. Because the look that Emma gives her is that of someone who is tired and unhappy and strung out on balancing acts. There is a hollowness that matches Regina’s own. And a darkness that matches Regina’s own. And a longing that matches Regina’s own. And the mayor of Storybrooke, creator of the strongest curse, and knower of Emma Swan, sees it all but that last one. Because life is funny in that way. Life amuses itself by making her believe in magic and good and and evil and that she is all those things and more, and then also believe that she is utterly unlovable. But that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is Emma is here. She’s here with her and she is real and alive and, well the older woman isn’t gonna kid herself by thinking that she is okay. But Regina doesn't need Emma to always be okay, she just needs Emma. So they talk, or rather Regina talks, tells Emma that they are all worried and looking for her and for a way to get her back, and that Henry is sad but ultimately he will be okay when he knows that Emma is back. Emma listens and listens, letting herself be momentarily comforted by the knowledge that life has gone on without her, and that though her loved ones would not just forget her, they could begrudgingly make do with her absence. Most of them at least. But then she has to interrupt Regina’s ramblings, “I’m not though. I’m not back, Regina.” She resignedly corrects the other women and avoids looking at her as she does. She distracts herself from the pained look Regina is giving her and from the silence that follows by wandering through the office in slow long strides, makes her way to the couch, brushes her hand over it and then after a short pause, she settles into it carefully. They talk some more, Regina tries to convince her that she should just come back home and they could all together find a way to fix this, and Emma has to steel herself and tell her that they can’t and that it is for everyone’s best interest that she keeps her distance. “Then why the hell are you here?” Regina finally snaps, and it’s not unkind and it’s not as hostile as it’s supposed to be, because Emma can hear the crack in her voice, the fear and maybe even pain with which the words are uttered. Yet it makes her freeze in her tracks. Because while the question is fair and expected, what is she supposed to say? ‘I didn’t know where else to go’ ? ‘I’m lonely and so terribly tired and I couldn’t bear to be alone any longer’ ? ‘Because I needed to see you’ ? ‘Because I got so scared and then without meaning to I thought about you and I could feel you in this office, the hum of the printer and the scratch of pen against paper and the occasional rhythmic clacking of heels. And I remembered take out and beer and soft bickering and normalcy’ ? ‘Because right here right now is the first time in four days that my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to split in two and that my thoughts are loud and clear enough to be heard over the jumble and the whispers and the mess.’ ?
She didn’t say any of those things, because words were never her strong suit and because savior or dark one or whomever, when it came to Regina, she wasn’t brave at all. Instead she looked at the other woman, tried to be as sincere as her fear would allow, because Regina deserved at least that from her “I’m here because I need to rest for a little while and know that nothing horrible will happen while I do” before the brunette had even processed what she was told a familiar item had appeared on her desk in a cloud of dark smoke. The dark one's dagger, with Emma’s name etched on it. “And because I needed to give you this” But as Regina reached for it, Emma disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared. And as hard as it was to not be able to save her, Regina was left feeling the slightest bit lighter, and fuller and more determined. All there was left to do was to trust herself, to trust that Emma will come back, and that somehow, they would be okay.Emma did come back, everyday for the remainder of the week she showed up at Regina’s office at some point during her work day. And if Regina had purposefully started showing up to work early and leaving late could anyone really blame her ? The first day, or technically second, Emma magiced her way into the mayor’s office around 4pm. She looked more tired than the day before, this time there was no long pause of silence, no taking in of each other. “Is it here” to her credit Regina was quick to recover from her surprise and to catch on to the other woman’s meaning “No, it’s not” Emma nodded while turning around and slowly started making her way to the couch, “But you can get it easily?” Regina smiled a little at that “With a snap of my fingers” Emma returned her smile and slowly layed down on the couch and put her arm over eyes. This is something pre-dark curse Emma would never have done, made her way into Regina’s office and laid down on her couch, pre-dark curse Emma would probably soon collapse from fatigue before even considering a nap in the mayor’s office with said mayor in it. But this Emma was doing exactly that without hesitation or even the thought of asking Regina if she was okay with it. Regina of course was okay with it, almost elated by it actually. So she worked as quietly as she could and only went home at seven pm, thirty minutes after Emma had woken up gasping for breath and had disappeared in a cloud of smoke before Regina could even formulate a reaction.
For the rest of the week Emma would poof into Regina’s office while she was working. Sometimes they would talk but most of the time she would head straight for the couch and be out for a few hours. As they settled into this strange routine they naturally got better at it, more comfortable in their companionable silence. Emma started dressing comfier, still not quite like her pre-curse self but not in all black leather armor either, she started taking off her heels and leaving them by the side of the couch before her nap, her exists became less dramatic and haste and though it was clear the darkness was still eating away at her she seemed to have gotten better at fighting against it, and at letting her guard down momentarily. Regina for her part was no longer even startled by Emma’s sudden appearance, she had started doing the printing early in the morning and turning off the printer whenever Emma showed up, she had also taken the time to actually look at the electricity panel for the office and had figured out how to dim all the lights in the room other than the one directly above her desk and then there was the dark blue blanket she snuck from Henry’s room to cover Emma with after she fell asleep. They never talked about it but the first time Regina had covered her with it, Emma had slightly stirred in her sleep and then reached for the blanket and brought it all the way to her face.
On the fifth day of their new normal, Emma shows up looking more tired than ever before. Depleted, Regina's mind supplies. She ponders the word as Emma makes her way to the couch and falls asleep almost instantly. Depleted: to reduce something in size or amount, especially supplies of energy, money, etc. To reduce. She thought about Emma’s loudness, her infectious laugh that she hadn’t heard in what feels like ages, the way her eyes used to shine and how she would react to things with her entire body, always in motion, always alive, always more. There was a stillness to her now, a quietness so loud and encompassing it solidified her as other more than silver hair or leather ever could. Regina felt her heart ache, a real physical thing, her lungs pressing down on it so hard she almost gasped for breath. She could feel the tears behind her eyes, and then her mind, quick as ever to chastise her for it. Pathetic really. She wasn’t the one in this room who was in pain. She was the one who was dying to ease it but not good enough to do so. She snapped herself out of her reeling thoughts and moved toward Emma’s body. If she couldn’t take away Emma’s pain she could at least offer her a short reprieve. She could cover her with a blanket that smelled like their son. She could show her that even though her fight against darkness was lonesome, she didn’t have to be lonely. She kneeled down beside the sleeping women and fought the urge to reach over and touch her. And then she thought about loneliness, about all the books she’d read in her lifetime and the poems she knows by heart and then this situation for which no words exist, no metaphors would bring comfort. So she reaches over and she touches her, her hand slowly pressing down against a cold cheek, her lips, a whisper image of a kiss on Emma’s forehead. Regina isn’t just an expert on the limitations of magic, she is The expert on the limitations of magic. What she isn’t an expert on, however, is love, or rather, true love. As her lips meet Emma's skin, their world becomes pink in a wave that knocks Regina into a sitting position on the floor. And in a second, Emma, still gasping for breath, is beside her. Reaching for her. Her savior even barely awake. Her savior, whole again. “What the hell happened ?” she searches for Regina’s eyes, the latter taking her in, processing what happened, what it means. Her skin burning where Emma’s fingers are grasping it and her heart taking root in her body. She laughs. She laughs and she finally lets herself cry. Emma isn’t sure if she should be worried or glad, but before she could voice her concerns Regina finally speaks. “Emma, your hair” this of course only makes her more confused, so Regina reaches around and undoes her bun so her hair falls in long blonde waves around her face. Blonde, Emma’s hair is blonde again. “Wait what does this mean ?” Regina goes to answer and realizes she isn’t sure either, so instead she snaps her fingers and conjures the dagger. It materializes in her hands, unchanged except for the part where Emma’s name was engraved, now the steel shines clear. Because the darkness still exists, it always will, but it is no longer tethered to a human vessel. And neither of them really knows what that means. But they’ll figure it out together. “But how ?” comes Emma’s hesitant question. It sits between them for a little longer, but then, because words are futile devices, Regina reaches for her again. She kisses her. And Emma hasn’t read half as many books as Regina has, and words were never her specialty. But in that moment, they need not be, because no matter how carefully she selected them or how masterfully she arranged them, they would never account for this kiss. And Regina was so wrong, because she was enough, and she was right because they are okay. They are okay.