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Her stomach groans in protest, but it is so delicious, and so nice to finally have someone care. Emma stuffs another piece of pancake in her mouth, then another, and another.
Snow's been showing up ever since she had Neal, making Emma, and sometimes Henry (when he sleeps over), elaborate breakfasts, trying to apologize for what she said in those Neverland caves.
Trying to be a mother. Snow's trying, Emma reminds herself. She's trying.
"Time to go to work," Snow reminds her, and Emma sleepily nods.
"Don't forget to drink your juice."
She slurps down the tall glass of condensing orange juice, swallowing a burp that's threatening to rise.
Emma used to walk to work, but she's weighed down, tired, so instead she walks carefully to her car, easing inside.
She stares at her computer screen at work, ostensibly completing files though really it's so quiet there's no real need.
The darkness has been defeated, her darkness has been defeated, so now they're just a sleepy, quiet town in Maine. Probably with one of the lowest crime rates in the country, because everyone remembers the death and destruction and even those prone to thievery are content these days.
Finally it's 10:30, and even though she's still stuffed from the breakfast of guilt she ate only hours ago, it's tradition that she go the Granny's for a bear claw and coffee. She'll save it for later.
Ruby greets her with a smirk, and she smiles back. She's suddenly feeling generous, swayed by the gentility of it all, and she orders two bearclaws and her usual coffee (large, extra cream, four sugars) to go. She'll save a bearclaw for later.
It's not until she's back in her chair at the station that she realizes her fingers are sticky, and only one bearclaw remains.
She needs something to go with her coffee, so she eats the second bearclaw slowly, licking the stickiness off her fingers between each long sip of sweet coffee.
She returns to her paperwork but soon her eyelids feel heavy, and she yawns. She'll wake up when the phone rings if anyone needs her (no one ever does).
Turns out she's right. No one needs her. She wakes up to her check smooshed against paperwork, and wipes the drool off her chin.
Her stomach growls in protest and shit she's forgotten lunch. Glancing at her cellphone she sees there are three hours until her scheduled dinner with Regina. No way can she wait that long.
She orders a burger and fries and a large coke at Granny's. She needs to wake-up, she needs to be awake if she's going to keep up with Regina.
"Early dinner?" Granny asks as she slides the plate towards Emma.
"Yep."
She'll eat a smaller meal at Regina's.
Regina's made roast chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans and Jesus Christ it's incredible.
"Would you like some more?" Regina asks, and it's clear to Emma that she's pleased.
"Mommm," Henry whines and rolls his eyes.
He's had two plates and is clearly done.
"Go play your game," Regina smiles in a special way that's reserved for Henry.
"Emma?" She asks, her face still soft as she faces Emma, as Henry flees the table.
No, no she's already had too much. "Sure," she says and smiles back.
And after every couple of bites she looks up and sees that soft, pleased smile.
Henry returns to the table for dessert, and they each dig into their bowls; Regina's small scoop of ice cream, Emma's large, and Henry's just right.
She feels full in more ways than one when she crawls into bed that night, doing little more than releasing the too tight button on her jeans, before she falls into a deep and dream free sleep.
~
As is becoming commonplace she wakes to the smell of cooked food, and her stomach gives a pleased growl.
It's French toast this morning, and Snow has made a pile of crispy bacon just because she knows Emma likes it.
This must be what love is.
Henry isn't there this morning, and Snow's already eaten with her real family, so it's all for Emma and she eats and eats and eats.
She's still in her jeans from the night before and when she gets into her car she can't do up the button.
If magic was still around she'd think it was Groundhog Day, because it's almost like yesterday. She gets her coffee, orders two bearclaws because...why the hell not.
The only difference is that she has Henry tonight so when she wakes up from her long nap she heads home, back to the tiny apartment where she ran after the baby arrived.
"Kid, I'm starving!" she exclaims as she walks in.
He giggles. "I think you stole my line."
"Pizza?"
Everyone knows she can't cook.
"And cinnamon sticks?" He gives her a sneaky look, and she knows he's asking because maybe she'll cave. Unlike a certain other mom.
She wants them too, so she nods and orders.
She grabs a bag of chips from the counter, snags a beer from the fridge, and settles next to Henry on the couch.
They both mindlessly eat through the bag, and at a certain point Henry gets up to grab a soda.
"Bring me some beer?" She asks, spraying a fine dust of chips in the air.
Her brings her the rest of the just opened six-pack, which isn't what she asked for but it's good anyway.
The chips are salty and she's thirsty and they both sink further into the couch, into the mindless episode of Family Guy (that Regina would never, ever let him watch).
She's pretty sloshed when the pizza arrives, stumbling a little on the way to the door.
Henry's a growing boy so he eats a good amount of the pizza, and she encourages him to eat "one more slice" when he claims to be full.
She knows what it's like to starve and she doesn't want that for her kid.
She's never really full.
Emma demolishes the cinnamon sticks, fighting her way off the couch when they're done.
She pauses on her way to her bed, stumbling against the wall and burping loudly.
And sure enough it's not Groundhog Day but it is a pattern. She eats a delicious breakfast, drives to work, sits at her desk with heavy lids, and drags herself into the diner to get her morning snack, before falling into a deep sleep.
After a couple days she no longer pretends she's doing work, and starts sleeping on the cot in a cell, snuggled in a blanket she stole from Regina's couch.
The phone will ring and wake her up if anyone needs her.
It never does.
She used to run, to lift weights, but there's no reason now. It's slow and sleepy in Storybrooke, and she used to need to work out for survival, for necessity.
Now she can be complacent.
If she wants.
Her jeans tighten, and she starts wearing leggings. They're forgiving and far more comfortable for naps.
She goes to Regina's several times a week for dinner, and Regina lets her eat as much as she wants, often encouraging her with gentle smiles to take just one more serving.
It's so different from foster care, when she had to fight for the barest morsel. She used to eat to survive, but now she can taste and savor and it's all so very good. This must be what's it's like when someone cares.
Henry develops a little potbelly, to match his birth mother's, and Regina wonders if she should say something. But then he starts playing sports at the high school, and the fat turns into muscle and suddenly it doesn't matter.
He slims down even as he eats more and more, and Regina realizes this was what it was like for Emma. Remembers how active the other woman was was when she first came to Storybrooke.
She's not active anymore.
Regina watches with concern as Emma drags herself up the stairs at the loft, short of breath halfway and pausing on the banister, leaning heavily.
"Snow," she states. She's worried.
"What?" Snow looks up from the mixing bowl, accidentally smearing a bit of chocolate across her cheek.
"Have you noticed anything different about Emma?"
"Not really," Snow's brow unfurrows and she shrugs.
Regina sighs, watching as Emma continues her slow-pace up the stairs.
No one seems to have noticed Emma's size, the way she's so focused on food, so goddamn hungry all the time.
The way her breasts have grown, so that when Regina glances at them now she can't look away. Focused on the way they strain against Emma's shirt. Threatening to break free.
Snow announces the news likes it's the best thing ever, rubbing a hand across her barely showing belly. "I'm pregnant!" She's glowing.
Regina looks for Emma, but she's already gone.
Emma's belly pushes up her shirt, her stomach rolling over the edge of her tight leggings. She's lying on Regina's couch, the cushions sagging.
"Emma," Regina states softly, and Emma glances her way, eyes unfocused.
"I'm hungry," she mumbles.
Regina nods and heads to the kitchen. There's a carton of unopened strawberry ice cream in the freezer, Emma's favorite flavor.
She returns to the living room, sinking onto the ground next to the couch. And begins to feed Emma bites.
Emma barely pauses before her mouth is open for the next, swallowing down cold spoonfuls.
She's so happy like this, a small smile on her face as Regina feeds her.
Regina watches as Emma's eyes grow heavy, and puts the spoon and the almost empty container onto the floor.
She reaches out and smooths a hand over Emma's stomach, the flesh soft and warm beneath her hand.
Emma mumbles a pleased sound, arching up to meet Regina's hand.
Regina rubs back and forth and back and forth, the flesh jiggling under her palm.
"It will be okay, you know." Regina promises.
"It's never okay." Emma whispers, eyes closing as she falls asleep.
Regina's still there when she wakes up the next morning.
"I told Snow I'd do breakfast duty," Regina explains.
Emma nods though she's still confused, she doesn't smell any food cooking.
"It's oatmeal," Regina explains, handing her a steaming bowel.
Emma expects to be disgusted but she isn't, not really. It's full of dried fruit and nuts and small bits of chocolate.
Regina sits next to her on the couch all day, handing her small baggies full of homemade snacks every few hours.
Her stomach protests, loudly, but somehow Regina's presence makes up for it.
But Regina doesn't live with her, and when Henry decides to go to summer camp in Chicago ("I'll get to study real Paleontology, Emma!") Regina drives him ("I've never been farther than Boston, I'd like to see another city.") and, well, she's his real mom.
They're gone for a month.
~
The doorbell rings and rings and finally Emma rolls herself off the sofa, grunting as she uses the sofa's creaking arm to pull herself upright.
She teeters toward the door. "Hey," she huffs as she pulls it open.
"Hi Emma," Ruby smiles at her, "got your morning delivery here."
"Could've used your key," Emma grumbles.
Ruby just grins and skips into the apartment, ignoring the Emma's glare.
By the time Emma's made it down the hall to the kitchen the food's all laid out.
Ruby's set it for two, and Emma doesn't bother explaining that Henry's not here.
Her mouth is salivating and she needs Ruby out of here. She needs to eat.
As she does every day now, Ruby offers her a wave and tosses a "let me know if you wanna go out tonight," over her shoulder with a friendly wink.
"Sure," Emma agrees, through the hot cinnamon bun that has somehow found itself stuffed in her mouth.
Snow can't come anymore because she's very pregnant with kiddo number two. (Three, Emma sometimes reminds herself. Three). So she sends Ruby with breakfast.
Emma struggles to sit comfortably at the kitchen table, her growing bottom hanging off the edge of the chair.
She eats pastry after pastry, pausing only to take long slurps from the tall chocolate milkshake with whipped cream.
Snow wants Emma to have a choice, but Emma doesn't want anything to go to waste.
She eats until she can't eat anymore, and then she slurps down the second milkshake.
Emma belches loudly in the privacy of her own home.
She tries to stand but gives up quickly, instead leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes.
Henry comes to see her, running into the apartment without knocking, legs tense from the 18-hour drive, and Emma is still fast asleep.
"Ma?" He shakes her shoulder and she wakes with a yawn.
"Hey kid," she forcibly swallows a burp, cringing uncomfortably.
"Hey," he looks at the series of plates on the table, most covered with crumbs. "Did you have a breakfast meeting?"
Emma nods.
Henry dials their pizza place, and orders two large pies...one for each of them.
He grabs Emma some beer without her asking, and Emma looks the other way as he guzzles one down.
He's seventeen now, all muscles and peach fuzz.
They both finish their pizzas, and Henry grins at her, mouth shiny with grease. "Night Ma."
She doesn't bother going up stairs anymore, it's too much work. Instead she makes her way to the sofa, panting heavily by the time she's made it there.
Regina pays her a visit the next day, and she watches her disdainfully from her spot on the couch.
"Emma," Regina sighs, tugging a hand through her shiny hair. "This isn't healthy."
Emma bites her lip and stares at the floor. There's an excruciatingly long pause, but Regina's gaze doesn't falter.
"I know," Emma admits softly.
"Let me," Regina pauses for a long time, wondering. "let me help."
Emma nods slowly. "Okay."
~
"You're doing a fine job," Regina praises.
Emma's face is bright red, shiny with sweat.
A month has past since she's agreed she has a problem.
Regina's been consulting Dr. Hopper and apparently she has major disordered eating going on.
Trying to drop the weight hasn't been easy, especially when she's constantly breaking the diet, desperate to feel the safety and high of a stuffed meal.
But it's been getting better and better. Regina hasn't quit, Regina is disappointed when she catches Emma with a bearclaw in her hand, but she never yells and she's never left.
Emma's shocked, frankly. Who knew Regina had that kind of patience.
It must be the mom in her.
Not that Emma thinks of Regina as her mom. Anything but.
Emma's collapsed in a heap on Regina's living room floor. They just finished a workout DVD and Regina, of course, looks flawless.
And Emma remembers, briefly, when she was slender and muscular and how, she now understands, she was driven toward that for all the wrong reasons.
To make someone, anyone, love her.
To make sure that no one, ever, can hurt her again.
Right now, lying on the floor and sweating and staring at Regina, who's looking back at her with the smallest, genuine smile on her face?
She thinks she's doing it for the right reasons.