Chapter Text
Regina threw her glasses on the desk, rubbing the exhaustion from her thrumming eyes. It was after midnight, and she’d been staring at her computer screen for the best part of six hours now. Her head pounded as she reached for her long-drained coffee cup, wincing when the dregs of the cold liquid pierced her tongue.
She pulled herself up and made the trek from her home office to the kitchen. While she waited on the coffee maker, she cracked her aching back, stretching this way and that to relieve some of the pressure. In the periphery of her awareness, the clock struck 2am, and she sighed, accepting the reality that she wouldn’t be getting to bed tonight. How many nights did she burn the midnight oil? Truthfully, the only time she ever went to bed at a reasonable hour was when Henry insisted upon it, and with him spending the night with her former enemies, there was no one to set a good example for.
The coffee maker had barely finished filling the mug when Regina retrieved it, sipping at the scorching liquid like it had been poured from the fountain of youth. A long time ago, she could pull these all-nighters with little consequence.
The blurry screen stared back at her naked eyes, and she dragged her glasses back on. The screen didn’t click into the focus it really ought to. She made a mental note to get her prescription checked, though she knew the problem was more to do with the late hour than the lens perched on her nose.
One more hour, then she could catch a few hours rest before the town meeting at 9am. Yes, she could manage one more hour, she assured herself even as she stretched back in her chair, allowing her eyes to shut. One more hour of work.
Her breathing was just beginning to even out when the crinkle of magic in the air stirred her. It was like electricity across her skin, alarming and comforting all at once. She knew this magic. These days, it was as familiar as her own. It wrapped around her like a blanket, and she had to force herself to awaken for it.
“Miss Swan, what are you doing here at,” she pried an eye open, forcing it to focus on the twenty-four-hour clock in the corner of her laptop, “3am?”
Huh, she must have dozed off for longer than she thought. Regina rolled back her shoulders, pushing herself up as she brushed back her hair to regain a little of the dignity she felt she had lost. The room appeared as empty as it had when she closed her eyes. Illuminated only by her desk lamp, the shadows of her bookcases and couch loomed larger than they ought to.
“Emma?” She stood slowly, extending her own magic in search for the blonde. It wasn’t sleep deprivation or an overcast dream that sensed Emma’s incoming magic, she was sure. “Miss Swan, if you think this is funny – ”
A low keening sound drew her to the couch. She stepped around the desk to find the aforementioned woman buried in the cushions, her legs pulled flush against her chest. Her eyes were screwed shut, almost in pain, and the whimpering continued, quiet at first, growing louder until it was almost panicked.
“Emma, are you – ” The blonde threw her whole body to the side, a sharp gasp settling like shattered glass across the room. With her face now exposed to the dim light, it was clear she was caught in a nightmare, uninjured. Regina took a step closer, then paused, anxiety holding her back like a straitjacket.
What was she to say to the younger woman? They weren’t that close, not really. They’d merely come to an understanding. “I was just looking for you to be my friend.” That honest conversation played in Regina’s head on repeat, a promise of something more, something good to grow between them. But they weren’t there yet. They weren’t ready for her to soothe a nightmare.
She wasn’t ready to soothe a nightmare.
Another strangled cry ripped through the room and tears – real tears – trickled down Emma’s pale cheeks. Her body wouldn’t allow her to wipe them, wouldn’t allow her to move closer even as the saviour blubbered a barely audible, “I’m sorry,” into the air.
Regina swallowed down the lump in her throat. This sight was intimate, and it wasn’t for her eyes. Emma was just beginning to get a good grip on her magic. She was coming on leaps and bounds, and Regina was proud of her for that, but she hadn’t thought to warn her about things like this. With her conscious mind tapping into her magic, her unconscious mind would find itself doing it too. It would do her good in time. It would mean that she wouldn’t have to think about poofing away from a fireball, her instincts would just do it for her.
Unfortunately, accidents like this came first.
She should have warned her. Maybe she would have done if she hadn’t put such distance between them recently.
“Please – don’t.” She’d never heard that kind of fear in Emma’s voice, and it put Regina’s hair on end. Emma was so reckless and headstrong; she honestly didn’t think Emma could feel fear like that. She certainly hadn’t shown it when she rocked up to town back in the day, nor when they’d dealt with any Big Bads since. This vulnerability was new.
Emma wouldn’t want her to see her like this.
At least, that’s what Regina told herself. It was an out, even she knew that. It meant she didn’t have to confront what was really going on here. She didn’t have to comfort someone she often pretended to hate, didn’t have to face the awkwardness in a few hours when they saw one another again.
It was an out, even if it was true.
Still, she wasn’t completely heartless. Under her breath, she whispered a small incantation to herself, running her hands across Emma’s fearful aura. It took a moment of careful manoeuvring to pull the nightmare and banish it out of Mifflin Street where the wind could disarm it. Emma’s features softened as she fell into a barren dream: harmless, if dull. It wouldn’t solve whatever issues her brain was trying to work through, but for now, it would allow her a decent rest.
Emma’s head fell to the side, the pain receding. She looked beautiful like this. Regina shook that observation out of her mind. No, she looked unopinionated, quiet, less like a thorn in her side. They were getting along, but she hadn’t forgotten about all of Emma’s more irritating tendencies.
She waved her other hand and watched the saviour be swept up in a thick purple fog, pulled from Regina’s home office back to Emma’s own bed on the other side of town.
She swallowed down her own discontent, pushing away the part of her that thought she ought to have done more. In another life, she would have taken the opportunity to take away Snow White’s happiness. Even just a few weeks ago, she would have rubbed the embarrassing faux paus in Emma’s face.
How dreadfully humiliating to have poofed herself into 108 Mifflin Street having a nightmare.
No, she had done enough. More than enough, actually.
She continued to lie to herself as she returned to her desk to finish up the work she should have done weeks ago.