Our Son

Chapter Five

Regina

Pain. That's all I could think or feel. The throbbing in my head was intense but I somehow managed to crack open my eyes. My surroundings were finally clear to me. I was suspended by my arms below an outstretched tree branch, Emma Swans head pressed to my shoulder. The ropes were tightly tied around my wrist, making it impossible to get out of their grasp. My feet skimmed lightly on the ground and my hair fell around my drooping head. I attempted to speak but was taken back from the soreness of my throat. The unconscious form of Emma pressed against my body, her arms tied above her head next to mine. Her heat was comforting for some odd reason and her slow, short breaths calmed my racing heart. Where the hell am I? I think to myself. All I could remember was watching Emma's long, slender fingers brushing over a boot print on a tree and then everything going black.

I swallow in pain and manage to whimper something out.

"Emma." I feel her breathing stop for a second and then hear her soft groan of pain.

"Re-Regina?" she mutters against my shoulder, clearly just coming into consciousness. She slowly rolls her lean shoulders back and lifts her head, giving me a chance to finally see her perfect face. Perfect face? My heart skipped a beat when I saw her condition. The usually smooth skinned and confident face was destroyed. Blood trickled over the side of her head and her usual bright green eyes were dark and had lost their usual sparkle. A small amount of blood rested on her parted lips and her eyebrows creased together with both pain and worry. My eyebrows creased together with worry and my eyes began to haze over with tears. "Are you okay?" Are the next soft words that leave her lips. Her question melts my heart, because the fact that she was looking like she was about to pass out and she was asking me how I was doing was just too overwhelmingly sweet. I swallow again and manage to nod my head. She sighs in relief and droops her head, making her forehead land on my chest. I feel her warm breath fan my chest and a strange-good, feeling crashes over me. I don't understand why I'm not telling her off or scolding her in my usual manner. I couldn't. I place my chin on her head and feel her wince.

"Sorry!" I grit my teeth and lift my aching head again.

"No." she says softly, her lips brushing my chest, "It's fine, please try to relax." My lips curve up in a slight smile and I rest my chin against her soft, blonde hair again. I look around and don't see or hear anyone, just pitch black forest and the chirping of crickets. I feel the cold air against my back and suddenly wish that Miss Swans arms were wrapped around it. I close my eyes, attempting to identify the feelings that are stirring in my chest but in vain. Someone help me with my conflicted emotions for this rebellious blonde.

"Where the hell are we." Emma mumbles as adorably as physically possible against my chest. I can't help but smile and take in her fresh smell of cinnamon before I answer.

"No clue." I reply. "But I can get us out." I say as an idea pops into my head. I use some magic to loosen our ropes-just barely, so Emma won't notice, but enough to where I can wriggle out of them. my arms drop around Emmas waist as they come free and she stumbles forward into them. At that moment is when I realize what a bad condition the beat sheriff is in. All her weight is placed upon me and I manage to limp us over to the huge base of the tree. Wrapping her arm around my shoulder I place her gently against the trunk and look through her pockets for a phone, finding a paper instead. Hesitantly I open it up, placing some fingers to the side of my aching head and masaaging it lightly, however; the massaging stops when the letters words begin to sink in.

Come after Henry again and I'll kill you. Is all that it reads, but that's enough to spark my adrenaline and bend down, wrapping the limp Emma Swans arm around my shoulder again and halfway dragging her towards the nearest sign of civilization. Which I had no clue where the nearest sign of civilization would be...

It was going to be a long walk.