The Way

Chapter Seven

It was nearly 9PM. Regina's head spun as she stepped in the shower, allowing the steaming hot water to rush over her in an attempt to wash away the stress of the evening. All in all it had been a, dare she say, pleasant experience having Emma over for dinner, but the conversation that followed had thrown her for a loop. She couldn't for the life of her explain why she'd agreed to let the Sheriff stay the night. Nothing good could come of it. Especially considering Gold's suggestion earlier in the day. Was this considered acting?

Strangely, as stressed as she felt about having Emma in the house for the night, the blonde had been right in her claim that having another adult nearby was comforting. Emma and Regina had had their differences, more often than not, but Regina had never once doubted Emma's desire—or ability—to protect anyone she could. She was, after all, the Savior.

Henry knocked at the bathroom door not long before Regina switched the water off, issuing a muffled goodnight followed by the sound of his bedroom door closing down the hallway. The woman felt a twinge of sorrow at the knowledge her boy was fast becoming a man. He no longer seemed to need to be tucked into bed, and she sighed as she towel-dried and then slipped on her night wear. Fatigue poured over her as she laid eyes on her bed, but it was nearly overpowered by the sudden fear of sleep.

Regina didn't want to see Daniel again, and she most certainly didn't want to see Emma again. Not in the way her mind had taken to portraying them both. Not speaking such nonsensical words. Not wounded. Not bleeding. The thought of falling into that world yet again terrified her more than anything else she had experienced in her pained life. She tried to remind herself that Daniel was already gone, that even if she had to relive his death every night for the rest of her life, Daniel could never die again. She tried to remind herself that Emma was alive and well, no doubt settling into the not-so-comfortable-for-sleeping couch just downstairs. Just because the woman was injured in her dreams didn't mean she was injured in reality. Just because she died in her dreams didn't mean she was dead in real life.

It was then that Regina's brooding took a turn for the worst. What if her dreams were more than just dreams? What if Emma's suggestion that they were a curse was not so unfounded as the fallen queen had claimed? What if they were...premonitions?

The woman's heart began to race, and she felt a bout of panic strike her like a knife. Suddenly she couldn't breathe, her throat constricted and tight. She stared at the bed, gulping for oxygen, but couldn't force herself to climb into it tainted embrace. If she had to see Daniel...to see Emma...broken and bleeding...again...to worry that what she was seeing could perhaps be a warning of things to come...

But why...why did it matter so greatly?

They were just nightmares, nothing more!

Yet, still, she could only stare at the bed and struggle for air. This wasn't working. She needed fresh air. Outside air. She needed to be out of this room, out of this house...now.

Still in her night robes, her feet armed with hard-bottom slippers, Regina quietly opened the bedroom door and padded down the stairs to the entryway. The moment she opened the door and the cool night air struck the skin of her face, her body instantly relaxed. She didn't need to walk anywhere; she just needed to be outside.

Sucking in a deep breath, Regina Mills tried to calm her pounding heart, to clear her mind and convince herself that sleep was not the enemy, but in fact a much-needed friend. She reminded herself that Henry was safe, upstairs in his room, and the town's own Sheriff was but a few meters away in the Mills mansion living room. It took some time, but at last Regina felt she was collected enough to return to the house and attempt sleep once again. When her hand touched the doorknob, however, that same fear came rushing back.