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She knows it’s late and she knows she should’ve called but, with Henry tucked safely in at Snow and David’s for the night, Emma also knows she can’t put off this conversation any longer.
She tries to act casual as she wanders up Regina’s front walkway but with her hands stuck deep in her pockets and her anxious glances every which way she looks anything but. A light on the second story catches her eye.
Henry’s room.
Her eyes close for a moment and she inhales deeply, trying to release her anxiety in one long breath before hopping up onto the porch, skipping the steps all together.
Her knuckles rap lightly on the front door, and who is she kidding? She could barely hear it herself. There’s no way Regina would’ve heard it, especially from upstairs.
On a whim she tries the handle. The door clicks and with a small push swings open silently. For a moment the house is deathly quiet but then she hears it, just faintly. Crying.
“Regina…”
The name passes through her lips of its own volition and before she can stop them, her feet are carrying her up the stairs, deftly skipping every other step, making the trip that much shorter.
She pauses on the landing to listen. It’s quiet for a few moments and Emma’s pulse jumps in her throat, anticipating the moment Regina would storm out into the hallway, intent on seriously maiming, if not actually murdering, whoever had entered her home uninvited.
Emma’s stomach does a funny little flip at the thought but she shakes her head clear. That’s not who Regina is anymore. Sure she might pin someone up on the ceiling and verbally dismantle them but she’s not a murderer anymore.
If Emma’s honest with herself, she never considered Regina to be a murderer, not really.
Henry’s door is open just a crack and the light from his room is bathing a sliver of the landing in a soft glow.
Emma takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches her fists a few times before stepping towards the doorway. She peers through the small opening. She can’t see Regina but she can hear the quiet sobs coming from somewhere in the room.
She tries to slip into the room unnoticed but a loud creak from the door gives her away immediately.
Regina’s head whips up from where she’d had it buried in Henry’s pillow. Her arms clutch it tightly to her chest and Emma can make out distinct tear patches on the pillowcase.
Regina looks ready to either explode with anger or disappear in a humiliated puff of smoke.
Or both, Emma thinks to herself, but Regina doesn’t. She remains where she is, seated on Henry’s bed. The light from the slowly spinning unicorn fantasy lamp moves slowly across her face, making her eyes shine even brighter for a moment.
Emma opens her mouth to say something, anything.
Nothing comes out.
She holds Regina’s gaze as if she were a frightened animal about to take flight. Every muscle in her body is tense from remaining absolutely still and, by the looks of it, Regina has mimicked her stillness.
Emma’s not really sure how long she stands there, watching Regina’s lip quiver nearly imperceptibly in her peripheral vision, but she knows the unicorn has made it’s way around the lamp at least five times because for some reason that shape brings a brightness, a light to Regina’s features that none of the others on the lamp do.
Finally with a shuddering breath Regina looks away, tucking her chin into the pillow once again. She shuts her eyes tightly and Emma catches the gleam of fresh tears as they track down Regina’s flushed cheeks.
Emma takes one step, then two closer to Regina. By the fifth she’s next to her and with the sixth she gently sets herself down on the bed with Regina’s back to her.
She wraps one arm, then the other, gently around Regina, hugging her from behind.
Emma rests her chin lightly on Regina’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs gently.
But it’s not okay. Not really. None of this is okay but it’s kind of what she’s come to expect from all this fairytale nonsense.
She wonders why Regina always seems to bear the brunt of it.
She feels Regina’s hands release their grip on Henry’s pillow only to have them reach up and around Emma’s clasped hands.
She feels Regina tighten her grip and pull her ever so slightly closer.
No, it’s not okay right now but maybe someday, hopefully in the near future, it will be.