AP update (Patreon)

Regina woke up not sure how to feel. There were all the lingering, telltale signs of a restless night. Her body ached with a thousand kinks that snapped out of her once she started stretching. She didn't feel well-rested, but had an insomniac's dull weariness. Instead of her usual Emma-irritating morning-person energy, she laid her head back down on the pillow, even though she had no hope of getting back to sleep. But she was comfortable. She was very comfortable, once she'd flipped her pillow over, reoriented herself. Her body tingled with relaxation. She was awake, yes, maybe even begrudgingly so, but perfectly content to lie in bed and enjoy a peaceful morning's… Morning… What time was it? The sun was up. Birds were chirping and the sounds of traffic, such as they were through the muting factors of height and walls, had formed a buzzing mosaic. Was she late for work? She was late for work. She wasn't panicking, though. She should be panicking. She hadn't been late to work since she was a paralegal. And she was naked. Under the covers. Except for a leg, poking out from under the tangled sheets. Regina stared at it. Her own tanned, shaven attractiveness pinged something in her memory, which was revealing itself as exceedingly hazy. She couldn't remember going to bed. She couldn't remember tucking Henry in. This was her bed, but she didn't even remember the drive home— Suddenly, Regina saw it. On the nightstand was a silver bell the size of a man's thumb. Regina smiled with sudden memory. When Henry had gotten the measles, Emma had picked it up for him at a pawn shop, saying that he just had to ring it and she would get him Sprite, chicken soup, a DVD from their collection, whatever. Regina had tried pointing out that Henry's phone could handle that without Emma needing to rush back and forth to hear his needs and then fulfill them, but the prepubescent boy had enjoyed the ring of the little bell as it summoned Emma like a genie. Since then, every time he got sick, they gave him the bell to let them know if he needed anything. And, once, when some of Emma's old friends had come to town and Emma had had the poor judgment to spend the night out with them, she'd come home with a hellacious hangover. Regina had given the bell to Emma for whenever she wanted to try a new hangover cure. None of them were effective. Regina could work magic in a courtroom, but she was no miracle worker. Was that what had happened? Had Regina drunken to excess? It didn't seem like her. She didn't feel drunk, or like she had a hangover. Unthinkingly, Regina took hold of the bell and rang it. Instantly, she chided herself. She should've continued taking stock of the situation. Or at least gotten dressed. As expected, Emma came in, bearing a drink in either hand. She set them on the nightstand and, off Regina's look, put coasters under each. "Apple cider," she said. "And a vodka tonic if you're in the mood for something stronger." Regina took the vodka. It didn't stop her head from buzzing, gulping it all down at once, but it made the noise pleasantly mild. "Judging by the fact that I'm lying in bed naked, feeling like I've just run a marathon, I'd say our session either went very well or very poorly." Emma smiled at the weak joke, pulling up a chair to Regina's bedside. "Well… little of Column A, little of Column B…" "What happened?" "What do you remember?" Regina picked up the cider. She wished it was vodka, but it would still do for her suddenly dry throat. "We were… in character. It was more provocative than I had realized. I was very… stimulated. Then I—it's like I blacked out, Emma, I swear—" Emma folded her hands together. "You went to leave—got in an elevator. I wanted to ease you out of it. There's a sort of cooldown you're supposed to do. You relax, you talk about what happened, you make sure everything ends on a good note, and I wanted to do that with you, but you…" Emma's hands bobbed up and down. "When I caught up to you, you were having a sort of… panic attack. I don't know. You were in this fugue state. You wanted to keep going with the session. I said no and you collapsed. I got you to your car, drove you back here—" "Henry?" Regina suddenly gasped. "He was playing at Ursula's, I called ahead to check. I brought you up here, put you through the shower—that didn't help. You said you were tired, so I put you in bed, gave you a shot of that cognac you keep in your desk, and you were out like a light." "How long?" "Sixteen hours. And I told you, you work too hard—" "Sixteen hours? The MacGrady brief…" "I called your firm," Emma interrupted. "Pretended to be your life coach, told them you needed some time off because your beloved aunt had died and you needed spiritual closure. I dropped out of college in LA. I know how to bullshit. You're off the hook, Gina. Playing hooky." "And Henry didn't notice his mother in a coma?" Emma settled back in her chair. "I explained things to him as best I could." *** He'd come in while Emma was tucking Regina in, drawing the covers over her, making sure the pillows were nice and fluffed, just beginning to look for the bell for when Regina woke up, then he was there. "What's wrong with Mommy?" "Nothing, sweetie. She's just tired. She's had a long day." Emma knelt down to put herself roughly at eyelevel with the child. "I want you to let her rest, okay? Promise me that whatever it is, you'll ask me before you bother her. I only want you coming in here if it's an absolute emergency." "She's that tired?" "She's that tired." "But why? She always works late…" "Yeah, well…" Heedlessly, Emma sat back onto her butt, Henry similarly sprawling opposite her. Emma managed a little smile at him mirroring her. "There are different kinds of tired. Your mom is real good at… physical tired. There's a thing called coffee for that. You'll understand when you're in college. But there's also emotional tired. And Regina—your mom isn't the best at knowing when to rest for that. So now she's very tired and she really needs her sleep. Okay?" "But she promised to take me to the—" Henry stopped suddenly. Regina's eyes had opened, fixing on him like a searchlight on a prison break. She gave him an utterly exhausted, but still potent look. "Listen to your mother, Henry." "I'll take you," Emma said. "Just as soon as I'm sure Regina's going to be alright." "Go get your uniform," Regina added, and he ran off. Regina yawned heavily. "Little League. S'supposed to be good for… social… dynamics… always take him… our thing…" Emma was upon her, pulling the cover back up Regina's body. "Sleep," she insisted. "The munchkin'll be fine. I'll take care of everything. Even you." *** "I don't remember saying anything," Regina said. "Yeah, you were a great mom, even in your sleep. But I got pictures of you drooling in case you'd like to take a look down memory lane." "You can delete those if you're hoping to share this Halloween's leftover candy with Henry…" Emma smiled. "Just wanted to see how serious your threat would be. You really hit a girl where it hurts, Mills." "Need to show you…" Regina yawned again. "Who's boss…" "You want anything?" Emma asked quickly, as if displeased with herself for taking so long to inquire. "Warm milk? Hot chocolate? More alcohol?" "Water," Regina said, and Emma grabbed a cup and went to the bedroom's attached bathroom, filling it with water from the tap. As she'd expected, Regina was too weak to insist on H20 that'd been through the Britta filter. She drank greedily, sank back into her pillow. Looked cute as a button, Emma couldn't help but think. Regina Mills, the most feared attorney in Manhattan—take away the winged eyeliner, the power suits, the clothes altogether—and preserve her modesty with a sheet, because Christ, a body like that she'd be even more intimidating naked—and she was a real cutie pie. She'd joked about taking a picture before, but now she kinda wished she had. All these years living with Regina and she'd never seen her so—not peaceful, but vulnerable. If she could just stop looking so nervous, she'd be serene. Emma knew that didn't make sense… "You know, I sat by you for an hour." Or four. "Sometimes, you seemed really out of it, but then you would start wiggling around and making these noises. I thought I'd have to hold you down the first time. You calmed down when I held your hand." And petted it, and told you I was right here, shh, shh… yeah, tell her that and watch her head explode. Regina looked distinctly unamused, even hearing the censored version. "Everyone has bad dreams, Emma." "Yeah, but this was—it was the session, wasn't it? I came on too strong. Usually, I start off slow, build a rapport, but you seemed so tough—and I was a little pissed at you—maybe I stirred some things up, going so fast—" "It wasn't you," Regina said simply. "But the nightmares, you were telling someone to—" "It wasn't you. You know it wasn't you." Regina didn't do anything as melodramatic as turn her head away, pull the covers over herself. She was just staring straight up at the ceiling. "You know who it was." "Has she contacted you? She can't do that, I won't let her—" "No. She hasn't." Regina still remembered the last time. It was Henry's tenth Christmas and someone had sent him his most wished-for action figure, Future Man… one of those toys where you had to line up around the block just for Macy's to tell you they were all out of it. Henry was overjoyed to get it, and Emma and Regina were happy to see him so excited. Until they'd read the card. A month later, Regina bought her own Future Man figure on eBay for about five times what it was worth. She threw Henry's out and replaced it with him being none the wiser. A waste of money, perhaps, but it was the principle of the thing. It always was with Regina. Shortly after, she'd had one of her episodes. Seen it coming. Urged Emma to take Henry to Maine, visit the grandparents. She didn't want him to see her like that. She didn't want them to see her like that. They were gone three weeks and when they got back, Regina was fine. Emma had known not to ask about it. She knew enough not to need to, or want to. "Well," Regina said. "Either you're doing a good job of relaxing me or you're doing a very good job of boring me, because I feel like going back to sleep." "I'll try to keep my Led Zeppelin albums down to a dull roar." "Won't you?" Regina shooed her. Emma, though standing, wouldn't be budged. She quickly checked the temperature of Regina's forehead, Regina almost pushing her away to keep from being fussed over. "Go—check Henry to make sure he hasn't gotten into the rat poison." "Uh-huh. I'll be right outside if you need anything." "A nightgown would be nice. I can't believe I've slept in the nude for sixteen hours. I feel like a Kardashian." "Should I get the elegant black one that makes you look like a model or the elegant black one that makes you look like a model?" "Surprise me." By the time Emma got back, true to her word, Regina had fallen back asleep. Emma sat back down and watched Regina's delicate breaths. She wondered how long it would be until the next nightmare.