Chapter Text
friday.
It’s the first time Regina's walked out of her house in days. She’s been using her magic to transport herself back and forth from the vault to the mansion, wary of being seen. She doesn’t want pitying stares or low whispers of she deserves it, not when she’s half inclined to set them on fire for it. She doesn’t want to see Snow or her damned little brood on the street, struggling to make nice with her.
And yet, she’s left her house after dark in a quiet, empty town, and she still has the misfortune of spotting a familiar car parked right down the road.
So Emma is stalking her again. Emma’s been driving past her house far more often than any patrol would demand, attempting to steamroll her way back into the house and Regina’s life with that damned hangdog expression on her face. As though there’s anything worth saving with them.
Regina’s hand tightens around the card in her hand and she almost considers turning back right there. But no, she’s made her decision and she’s going to stick with it, no matter how formidable the yellow Bug at the corner might seem right now.
She walks quickly, as close as she can to the bushes at the side of the corner house, hoping to blend in. She doesn’t want to answer any questions Emma might have– Emma of the pleading glances and the tentative prodding, over and over again, as though Regina is going to cave to her persistence. She doesn’t need any more overtures that have her stomach curling into itself, knotting up with frustration as potent as any heartbreak.
She wants away from Emma Swan, who’d maybe been someone she’d trusted until a week ago.
The windows of the car are open, and Regina can see through them the way Emma turns, searching for the figure she must have seen. She stands very still at her spot by the bush across the street, waiting, and Emma lets out a loud sigh in the still night and reaches for her phone.
A moment later, Regina’s pocket starts buzzing, and she hits the ignore button without even confirming the caller. She watches nearly breathlessly as Emma heaves another sigh and waits.
And…she’s leaving a message, her voice artificially bright. “Hey, Regina. I know you don’t want to talk to me– I got that after that last…incident.” Regina’s jaw works under her skin. Emma goes on. “And by the way, that sweater wasn’t even mine. Mary Margaret says you owe her a Nordstrom gift card.” She laughs, halfhearted and wistful, and Regina’s stomach clenches more violently.
“I just…I know you’re hurting. And I know that you don’t want to see me. But I want to help you.” Emma’s voice catches. “I tried…I really tried fixing that sweater, you know? But I’m kind of useless at magic without you around.” She falls silent, staring out of her windshield in morose contemplation, and it’s the perfect time for Regina to slip past her car.
Instead, she’s rooted to the spot, incapable of moving on. Emma murmurs, “I think it’s admirable that you’ve been…that you haven’t been lashing out at anyone else. But I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life hiding because I–“ She tears the phone from her ear and frustratedly jabs at a button.
"Your message has been erased,” the phone says in a tinny voice, ringing out in the silence of the street. Regina straightens again, newly infuriated without even parsing what it is that’s irritating her so much.
Emma slams her fists against the steering wheel and then starts her car, swerving around the corner and never spotting Regina watching her.
Regina grits her teeth and stalks on, determined now more than ever to follow the message scrawled on the back of the card. (She knows the handwriting but can’t place it, but somehow she doesn’t give a damn about her own safety anymore.) She isn’t interested in Emma Swan’s sad little messages that she’s too much of a coward to send. Or…anything to do with Emma Swan, she decides with grim focus.
She rounds the corner and walks towards a path into the woods, following the trail with less and less confidence as she goes. The forest is gloomy and heavy with fog tonight, a dreamy quality to it all. She kicks aside a tree root and the point of her heel sticks to it, and with a grumble, she bends down to free it–
In the distance, there’s a chilling scream.
For a moment she thinks she’s imagining it, hearing something more in the wind than there is. She rises slowly, magic hovering just beneath the skin of her palm, and she’s clearing her throat when something careens into her. “Watch it!” she snaps, weaving in place.
For a moment she thinks she sees dead eyes, hollow and frightened as they glow in the fog. And then she blinks again and they’re gone, whoever had been the bearer of them gone.
Regina squints after them for a moment, set on reproving them again, but there’s no sign of the figure anymore. Had she imagined the whole thing? She takes in a breath and kicks her heel free, setting out again toward the destination on the card.
She enters the indicated booth and retrieves the card, fiddling with it as she takes in her surroundings. The room is empty and when she tries walking through the door at the opposite end of it, something magical pulls at her and keeps her in place. “Hello?” she demands, her voice low and hoarse in the tiny room.
There’s no response, but she can hear movements just outside the door, sharp and irritated. “I want him out there all night,” a man’s voice snaps. “I won’t have my m–“ He shoves the door open and falls silent as he comes face-to-face with Regina.
The short little man behind him scurries off, and this man’s face splits into a smile. “Ah,” he says.
“Who the hell are you?” Regina demands. She doesn’t recognize him. He must be from the second curse, but he’s still unfamiliar enough that he can’t have crossed over from their castle.
“I’ve been so hoping you’d come.” The smile is still too wide, and Regina twitches, uncomfortable and annoyed about it. “Let me tell you about the process here.”
He launches into an explanation, heedless of her scowl, and Regina closes her eyes for a moment and thinks about…others. Other hopes, other futures. But none of it matters anymore, does it?
And for a moment she shoves aside thoughts of destiny and soulmates and instead sees Emma Swan in her mind’s eye, wrapped in a sweater that isn’t hers and with her fingers drumming a beat against each other as she tries to speak again.
None of it matters, she thinks again, and follows the man’s instructions with renewed fire.
When he’s done with her, that damnable smile is still on his face and she has another face entirely. “Welcome to Double Blind, Artemis,” he says smoothly. “I think you’ll find that it’s a perfect fit.”