AP update (Patreon)

Regina woke from her nightmare, looking desperately for something, anything, any shelter, any safety, any defense. It wasn't until she saw Emma lying in the chair at her bedside that she relaxed. Emma had fallen asleep, silly girl, arms crossed and head lolled down, still facing Regina's direction like she could protect her. It made Regina think of the first time Henry had gotten sick, really sick. They'd both agreed that the doctor was right, it was nothing, he just had to get lots of rest and plenty of fluids and that there was no sense worrying. One of them would be more than enough to take care of him. But still, Regina had called in sick and spent the whole day with their baby—that small man, that little thing, you could hold him in one arm comfortably. But if he were gone, the whole world would've gone with him. He never saw the inside of the crib, their Henry. They just kept passing him back and forth, like they could substitute his pain with their love, and if one of them somehow wasn't enough, then he had both of them. Emma had been so young in those days. Barely more than a child herself. Not truly much younger than Regina, but then Regina had never been a child. And back then Emma'd still dressed a certain way, posed a certain way, trying desperately to prove something she'd ended up forgetting altogether. She hardly dressed so aggressively now, though a well-worn leather jacket was still a staple of her wardrobe. But she seemed so much more confident, more assertive. Not about everything, about the things that mattered. She was sure of herself. Like Regina pretended to be. Regina wondered if she'd always been so beautiful, or if she'd grown into it. Regina remembered Emma being so committed to Henry, understanding how important it was to protect someone if you claimed to love them. Understanding that innocence wasn't something that people had, it was something the people who loved them gave to them by protecting them. And it was lovely, how Emma was willing to let Regina help protect her son. How she looked at Regina and saw only the love she had to give. But somehow, Emma had ended up doing more than protecting their child. She had protected Regina. She made Regina feel innocent again. Regina went back to sleep, her heartbeat as calm as a rising tide. *** Regina pulled the house coat up to her flank, staring in the mirror at her thigh. The bruise darkened it like a storm cloud, but the light purpling was like the sky at dusk. The coloring was violent, shooting through her dark skin in stitches of lingering aches, but the pain had been meted out with a disciplined hand, a loving hand. Emma had truly known what she was doing, knowing just how to hurt Regina so she would heal quickly. The bruise she'd left was as artistic as a henna tattoo: something brought to the surface only to break and dissipate. To heal. "Knock, knock," Emma said, and toed the door open. She had another tray with her, loaded with her signature dish—cereal prepared in milk. "Breakfast in bed!" "It's seven o'clock." "Yeah, well, you slept through the big pancake breakfast that I made and didn't even burn a little bit. And I gave all those unburnt pancakes to the poor, just to teach you a lesson." "I've learned my lesson," Regina assured her. "Can we talk?" "Yeah, Gina." Emma sat on the bed, setting the tray in place. "Of course." Regina was not having this talk in the bedroom. "Somewhere else? Maybe over something else?" "Yeah. Uh-huh. But your cereal's going to get soggy." "Trix isn't really my thing." "Can't get past how they won't let that rabbit just have some of his cereal, huh?" "I would enjoy some of the Pizza Bites you give Henry when he recites the alphabet correctly." Emma gaped. "…to be fair, he has that down pat." "I think he had it down pat five years ago." "People forget stuff! Don't you watch Are You Smarter Than A Sixth Grader?" *** Regina felt good, being dressed again, even as casually as she was in sweatpants and a tanktop. She went into Henry's room, finding him fast asleep as he always was after soccer practice wore him out. He didn't wake up even when she kissed his forehead. "I can't believe I haven't been there for him for the better part of two days." "Regina, relax, okay? I've been there. You're the one who needs some time to herself." "I don't like not being there for him." "And I don't like you working yourself to the bone. So let's compromise and maybe you could try a five-day work week. I could get a part-time job to share the load. You know they're hiring at Best Buy?" "Or we could start charging Henry rent." "There, you see? Problem solved." *** Regina was not a beer drinker. She drank wine, she drank scotch, she drank whiskey, but you could bring her the finest IPA in the land, she would not drink beer. Unless in case of an emergency. This counted. She took the second of the beers Emma fetched from the fridge, let Emma pop it for her, then drank remorselessly. "I could've done it the other way, you know." Emma sighed. "Regina, why do you have to be so mysterious? Of course I don't know what you mean, you're gonna have to elaborate, but fine, sound cryptic for five seconds just so you'll feel cool—" "This!" Regina clarified, testily. "I could've done it… normally! Found a husband, had a kid—I mean, look at me. Instead I… hired a single mom to be my family. You don't think that's weird?" "If you'd been in some of the foster homes I had, your definition of weird would be a lot different. Even if David and Mary-Margaret had adopted me right off, they are still… I mean, you've met them? You saw how Mary-Margaret just carried about a bluebird from the wild like germs hadn't been invented?" Regina sipped her beer. "This isn't bad." "Thank you, it's a point of pride. So?" "So?" "Why didn't you do the husband and the kid routine? You're not… you know…" Regina eyed her. "Gay?" "Infertile!" Emma sputtered. "Gay people can have kids now!" Regina played lazily at peeling off the label on her beer bottle. "If I had a husband—and a child—they'd be stuck with me. If I got bad, really bad, they'd still be here. Falling down with me. But you, you can just go. Henry would still have a mother." "If this is your way of asking me to leave, it is not happening." "I know not to fight a losing battle." Regina drank, went back to peeling the label. "But if it came down to me or Henry, if getting him away from me would keep him safe—" "You're not your mother, Regina." "They call me Mrs. Mills every day at the firm—" "So let's get married! You can take my name!" Emma realized too late that she was actually talking. "Not that—I mean—it'd be one of those sexless marriages, like the Clintons. And it'd finally stop Mary-Margaret from asking me when I'm going to find someone. She sent me a census report of how many men are in New York…" "Charming proposal aside, I think we're straying from the point of my conversation." "Yeah, beer'll do that to you. It's good, right, you said it was good. This new IPA from Brooklyn, started two months ago—" "Dear, the glasses are the only cute part of you being a hipster." "Oh, I'm sorry," Emma said in a dopey voice, "I'll just pretend to enjoy drinking Budweiser like everyone else. I mean, c'mon…" "My point is, there's always been an escape hatch. And it went both ways." "You thought you could just ditch us?" Emma didn't sound cross, just mystified. Like yeah, right. "I didn't know if I could be a mother. I still don't. You know how I get—" "You're nothing like your mother, how many times—" "The episodes, Emma. If I missed Henry's graduation, or prom, God, his wedding because of my head—" Emma reached out for Regina, taking her free hand, gripping it tightly before Regina could pull it away. "It's been years since you had one. And even if you do, we'll get through it. He'll understand." "He shouldn't have to. And you shouldn't have to… shield him from me…" "I don't!" Emma protested. "I just… you have needs. Everybody has needs, and sometimes you need to deal with things and I give you space to do that. There's nothing wrong with that. People who have asthma need inhalers; doesn't mean they can't be parents." "You keep talking like you think it can't get worse…" Emma gave her hand a harder squeeze. "I won't let it." Regina smiled ruefully. "There's more truth in that than you know." "Well, I mean, me and your therapist. You're still taking those pills? Pills help, right?" "Don't change the subject. I want to ask you something. And I want you to think very carefully before answering." "Regina, you know how hard that'll be for me," Emma joshed, before finishing her beer and setting it aside. She took her hand away from Regina, crossing her arms over her breasts. "Hit me." "This time's been a lot easier for me than usual. I've been having the dreams, but—at least I don't wake up screaming." Emma winced. "And I can feel it leaving. The noise in my head, it feels like someone keeps turning the volume down. Already I can barely hear it. And I think maybe… maybe that has something to do with how this started." Emma felt her lips part, her jaw weighted down. "If I had known this would happen—" "It was my job to know, not yours. But… like I said, it was different this time. Better. I could control it. I had you. The therapists, the doctors, I don't know them. I know you. Trust you." "Regina, c'mon, what're you asking here? I would love if I could just—rip out what she did to you, but I'm not—" "Everyone who comes to you has their reasons. I'm sure some of them just get off on it, but to others, you're a release valve." "A release valve they know how to use," Emma argued. "They come to me, they know what they need, I give it to them. I'm not their healer!" "I know what I need. I've been doing research." "Oh, Jesus…" Emma put her hand to her head, found herself hiding a smile. She could just imagine Regina, glasses freshly cleaned, opening up a series of tabs on her laptop about bondage. Sending e-mails to an assistant to look into felching for her. "There are some people," Regina pressed on, "who have certain scenarios. Like a fantasy, or a stage play. And you act out a role in these scenarios and they act out a different role. It's all very controlled…" "Yeah, I've done that, but it's not a trust exercise. It's this… thing. Look, have you talked to your therapist about this?" Regina flat-out ignored her. "What I would want is a total separation between these aspects of our lives. When I visit you at your… office, I would simply be a client, you would be a businesswoman providing a service. And back here, or anywhere else we should meet, we'd be friends. We wouldn't mention our friendship in the office, and we wouldn't talk about the other thing outside the office." "Would you listen to yourself? That's not a healthy relationship—" "I know what I need, Emma." Emma looked at Regina. Saw how serious she was. The kind of serious where she tried to hide how much it meant to her, tried to keep her nostrils from flaring, her eyes from blinking. "I can find someone else," Regina said. "I can find someone who's done this for years and I can get coffee with them and maybe someday I'll trust them enough to have this. Or it can be you. And I'll just know you won't hurt me." Emma's head was in her hands by then. "You know, this is why they won't let doctors operate on their own children." "Oh, really? Is this why?" Regina asked sarcastically. "Don't get snippy while you're asking me to whip you. But you really think this will help?" "Do you really think I would ask if I didn't?" Emma knew she meant it. Regina wouldn't express this kind of vulnerability, even with her, if she wasn't convinced this was something she needed. And maybe she was right. With Emma at the ground floor, knowing her so well, maybe she could steer it. Go easy on Regina. Figure out what she needed and give to her without any unnecessary… anything. "Okay. Alright, okay. But what I say goes, and if I think you're in any danger—" Regina was beaming like a damn kid. It was disconcerting. "I'm serious! Business relationship or not, I won't let you traumatize yourself for any reason. If you think this'll help, fine, but I have the final say, and if it looks like it's doing more harm than good, I'm stopping it. And you're not arguing. Are you?" "You have the final word," Regina agreed. "You're in charge. Would you like me to wear a collar with your name on it, just so people know?" Emma froze. "Please let that be a joke." Regina blinked. Stared at Emma. "Really, Emma, you think I would wear a dog collar—" "Just checking, yeesh." "A dog collar…" "So what's the scenario? You've actually gotten me kind of curious." "I think it's best if I e-mail it to you. We shouldn't talk about business at home from here on out. It's its own thing. You have a dedicated account for… business matters?" "Yeah. I send an introduction e-mail to new clients. I actually did a photoshoot with one of my regulars, so there's a picture from that included. I know, it's cheesy, but the guy had a catsuit he wanted me to wear—and a lot of money—and after all the trouble putting it on, I might as well put it on my header." Regina rattled her nails on the table. "I don't know why I found it so hard to believe that you dominated people for a living." She yawned. "Sun's getting low," Emma said. "What do you say to one more night of getting eight hours' sleep?" "I paid enough for the bed." Regina stood, cracking her back. "Might as well use it to make the couch in my office jealous." "I'll join you," Emma said. Then turned bright red. "I mean, I'll—I mean—just to make sure you don't have any nightmares or—you know what? Maybe I won't join you." "It's a big bed, Emma," Regina assured her. "And if you're still in a gay panic about being my dominatrix, you can always sleep reverse to me. Your pedicure isn't that bad." "Really? Because that'll just remind me of how I always fell asleep after I scissored someone." "Believe me, Emma, I'm in no danger of being scissored." Diligently, Regina took their empty bottles to the recycling bin. "I like to be kissed a lot when someone's bringing me to orgasm. And, if possible, whispered to in passionate Espanol." Emma seemed a little blank after that. Regina thought maybe she was kicking herself for taking French in high school. *** "This isn't awkward, is it?" Emma asked. She was mummified in sheets, a burrito sleeper, just leaving enough for Regina to cover herself with. "Emma, we've lived with each other since before Henry was born. I've brought you toilet paper at least twenty times. Sharing a bed—even if it's more to put you at ease than because I actually need a sleepover—is nothing." "Right. We're two grown women, best friends for years, why should it be awkward that sometimes we sleep in the same bed for reasons of emotional support?" "Or act as a dominatrix for therapeutic purposes?" "Or that," Emma agreed. "We could shower together and it wouldn't be weird!" Regina pictured it. "It'd be a little weird." "No, but I'm just saying, cuz we're comfortable with each other—" "Why couldn't you just wait to use the shower?" "Why can't you keep extra toilet paper rolls in the bathroom? Then, you wouldn't have to bring them to me?" "Why can't you check that there's toilet paper before you go?" "Why can't you… just… go headbutt a moose?" Regina laughed. "Headbutt a moose?" "Yeah." Emma nodded to her. "Uh-huh. I hit you with that sick burn and I'm not taking it back." Regina yawned again. "I think the fact that I'm in a state of only partial exhaustion instead of full, caffeine-enabled weariness is actually making me feel more tired." "No, you're sleepy. Sleepy is the cute one. Sleepy makes you take naps." Emma curled in tighter to her nest of blanket, looking at Regina. "Have you ever taken a nap? Like, in your life?" "Preschool… I think." "Yeah, but they make you." "So do you." "And to think they get paid to do it. I guess taking care of you is just my hobby." Regina was fast asleep by then. She looked peaceful. The little smile on her lips seemed to be one of anticipation. "Didn't even need to sing a lullaby," Emma said.