Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Thank you"
The words came out way more honest than Regina would have preferred them to be and, for a second, she considered changing them as they escaped out of her, a spattering of purple coloring the void they left between herself and Emma as the younger woman looked away, nonchalant and seemingly unbothered by Regina's honesty in a way  that felt almost infuriating. 

She had been so sure of herself when they had devised the plan, the sound of the diner mollifying her anxiousness born out of  the way Henry had looked past her, not recognizing who she was, the promise of the potion that would bring him back, bring their past back, fueling her as she predicted, dissected, how the town would reach for her to be thrusted into being the main suspect of whatever was happening to them. Emma had not commented on how her voice had turned cold, on how she had bit and spat the words Leroy and others would use, only for her to be painfully right for every single sentence. Emma had not commented on any of it as Regina had let her know where and who would be most riled up the second they felt her presence, how she would be asked to repent for a sin she had not committed, how she would be requested honesty even if they would refuse to listen. 
Emma had not mentioned it, had merely nodded and gave back as may details on how she would herself utilize them in a way that would feel real enough for no one else to know the kind of plan they were devising. And Regina, whose skin had felt clammy and cold and whose magic had been climbing withing her chest, had been grateful for it.

It was not that she felt shame for knowing how they would zero-in on her, she refused such thought. Regina's mind raced as she examined the way her pulse remained steady as she busied herself with the potion kit, the small one, the one she had laying around and certainly not as complex as the one she had back on her vault. They had considered the option of traveling towards the cemetery, however briefly, but the forest had felt far too compromised for them, far too open. She was not, she thought once more, ashamed for having been right: jumping to the conclusion that she was the one behind the curse was the easy option out of a myriad more that spoke of old enemies and even older magic. She could understand why everyone would choose to think of her as the evil she would always be portrayed to be. And since she did not remember the last year she very well could have been a participant of what had happened. She would have used the doubts so easily planted into everyone's psyche not so long ago for her own gain, after all. 
Which was what tipped her off into thinking that there was something else at play here and what had motivated her to request Emma's own inner power as the town's Chosen One to  be used against those that so readily would turn their backs to her as they requested help from their beloved Savior. 
Had Emma been closer to her own mother's character, she could have refused the idea, considering it too laced with mischief, with something so acutely not perfectly good, perfectly white and naive that would have made Regina gag as the implication of it all made her shiver.
Emma, however, despite the titles and names that had been thrusted upon her the moment she had been recognized by Storybrooke's inhabitants, had nodded without a second of hesitation as Regina had explained her how they would flush whomever was trying to squish them down. Nothing but trust shinning on her eyes. Trust that had made Regina press her tongue against the back of her upper teeth as the dinner's noise had receded to the back of her mind and something entirely different than sharp, razor-like vindication had filled her lungs, causing purple to twinge on her vision, the barest scents of about-to-fall rain wafting through them both.

And she felt the magic pulsing once more as Emma's reply echoed on her ears; "What for? We haven't done anything yet"

It was so painfully simplistic of an answer that Regina needed to swallow back a jaded laugh. 
"You saw how quick this town was to blame me" Emma had mentioned a couple of sentences they might use to goad others into saying something had they been hesitant to blame Regina for their current predicament and Regina had laughed a little at how Emma seemed to want to think better of those that surrounded them. "You believe I didn't cast that curse." And that was maybe what made Regina pause the most; not the fact that there had been a potion prepared for Emma that arrived in just the right precise moment they had needed it, not that there seemed to be a plot -again- that felt far too much like something close to revenge and lust for her punishment in a way that made her feel uneasy. 

No, she did not feel shame for how others saw her, their actions easy to understand even if it was colored by the anger and frustration of knowing -deep within herself, that she had not been the one to cause whatever had happened. 
She felt a quiet form of gratitude, however, an echo of a promise perhaps, that fluttered as she looked at Emma, at the way the other woman blinked back and pressed down what seemed to be a soft smile, a quiet one. And, amidst that gratitude, maybe precisely because of it, there was fear. Fear of why the relief, why the gratitude, why Emma kept on looking at her with bare eyes and just something about to escape in the form of dirty white specks that felt to call onto Regina's fingertips.

Emma had told her she had been indeed living with the memories she had provided for both her and Henry throughout the last year. They had not, however, talked about what those had meant. How her brain had surely filled on the voids Regina had purposedly left out. A good lie was the one that those subjected to it considered true enough because their minds believed it to be, after all. She had done such a thing before, she knew what kind of story she had spun in order to protect not only Henry but Emma as well.
Emma, who was still looking at her, unblinkingly, as Regina felt her tongue full of the same kind of static that danced and turned into smoke as she pressed her right hand onto the surface of the table the blonde was sat at, trying to redirect the biting magic back into the wood. "I know that wasn't easy for you."

It felt honest enough, Regina considered as she looked down again, avoiding Emma's stare, at the way the blonde's eyes were shinning now with magic as well, the kind of magic the younger woman would attribute to her 'superpower' and Regina knew as a spell, one the blonde was apparently tapping into without knowing she was. 
It felt honest enough, Regina thought again, whilst knowing that her wording was anything but that. Did she know how difficult or easy had been for Emma to trust her? Did she truly?
Emma had stared her down back at the diner in a way that had felt brittle and yet so painfully sure that Regina had felt that there had not been space for her to play coy or full of the burning anger that had colored many of their earlier interactions. Would there have been a reason for her to maybe try to rile the other woman up just for the sake of control?, the control she had felt slipping the moment she had caught Henry's eyes on her, past hers, as if she did not exist any more than other person within that diner did.  The control that had evaporated the moment Emma had stood and requested a conversation, the slight fear of the other woman to not know who she was briefly taking hold before she had realized that there would not be a world in which Emma stared at her in the way she was without her memories.
Both the one that had been hers and the ones she had provided, a final goodbye that no one else would ever know.

"...I knew you're telling the truth."

Emma kept on looking at her, magic swirling and Regina considered requesting her to stop, to look away from her long enough for her magic to stop. The last clear memory she had of the blonde had been back at the town line, with their conjoined magic still buzzing on her skin and the knowledge of how much of herself would be written on Emma's own blood the moment the memories given and the stories told would take hold onto both her and Henry. No time had passed for her, after all. 

But Emma...
Emma had lived one year out of those memories, memories that Regina had truly considered that she would got away with as the power that was bringing them all away for each other felt too final for her to consider a secondary option, one that would allow her to explore a promise of something different than a life lived back in the Enchanted Forest.

She felt shame now, a different kind of one, the trepidation coloring her words in a way that felt far too playful, too much, and too protected from any other that was not Emma as she replied: "Maybe this was some super complicated and genius plan."

Laughter filled the office and the brunette swallowed back as part of her wanted to turn and stare, to look and study Emma's own face as the blonde replied just as quickly in a way that felt far too curious and yet comfortable with the way Regina reacted, with how she could feel her fingers digging into the table's surface as magic unraveled the threads of every atom in purple soft and biting reddish hue. A kind of red that was different than any other color she had previously seen, one that felt like shimmering as she glanced towards it: a mixture, a conjoined power.

"Except it clearly wasn’t" 

How. Regina's brain raced as she tried to understand, to see what had tipped Emma's of her own adamant honesty. The one others refused to perceive. Cora had taught her to keep everything as close to her chest as possible, for others to never know when was she lying, when was she using them. If Emma had truly been able to learn her tells, if the blonde had truly finally seen her...

The woman kept on talking, calm, soft. And Regina thought back on the memories shared, on those she had provided, on how her own needs had been suffused into Emma's as a way of ensuring a happy life for Henry but also her, a final present for a life she would not get to experience. Acceptance, perhaps, of what the brunette had felt in Neverland when anger and the pulling need to feel something different that anxiousness had been impossible and yet strong enough to be the caress and the trigger and the reason why they had been able to move the moon. 

Had Emma seen that then? What was Regina like beneath all that she was, that she would ever be according to those that knew of Fate?

"But with you, Regina, I always know when you’re lying. This time you’re not. You didn’t do it."

Regina's next sentence felt like a plea and Cora's image scowled inside the brunette's mind as she squashed her and filtered her away, the scent of ozone growing stronger, pattering over the surface of the table, tendril-like as it reached for Emma's hands as the younger woman did not move an inch, still staring, still waiting for Regina to speak.
"Even though you know I can't live without him?"

"even though you know I gave myself to you when you crossed the town line, believing you would never get to ask me about it"

And as her magic finally reached Emma's, it was the blonde's turn for her voice to waver as she let out a soft sigh "Here you go. Telling the truth again"

It felt very much like a sob breaking free from her throat, one Regina drank up a little too eagerly as the door of the office remained closed, the town blissfully unaware of how their magic splayed and reached, how Regina's lungs filled once more with the scent of ozone and petrichor. They did not have the time, her mind supplied.

And yet.

She felt emboldened as the potion's kit kept on working, heat radiating from the way their magic danced, gold and dirty white and something different Regina refused to acknowledge, safe as they were from those outside.

"What else is your superpower telling you"
This time Emma remained silent, throat working, muscles squeezing some sort of response, one Regina did not saw as she felt bubbling energy filling her own throat up.

What else, Emma?

What else?