In The Dark
By Myriddin

Part I: Restless

The plan for this is for it to be a 3-parter with the first two parts will be T-rated, one of observation and one of reflection. The third part will be one of resolution and upped to an M-rating. I hope you enjoy, dear readers.

Night had become their time, but even then she is restless.

Regina heard the rustle of the sheets, the bed shifting as the warmth of Emma's body left the place beside her. The mattress groaned in protest under the sudden shift of Emma's weight and she froze, fearing the sound would cause Regina to stir. But the years of practice during Regina's marriage had perfected her skills in deception. This situation was no exception, as Regina kept her breathing slow and deep, feigning peaceful sleep.

Emma exhaled softly, a clear sigh of relief, and proceeded to remove herself from the bed without further mishap. It was no surprise for Regina that the blonde's footsteps were soundless as she padded across the carpet, for as loud and crass as Emma Swan could be, she had proved herself capable of subtlety and stealth in the past weeks. Emma crossed the bedroom in a silent prowl, stepping into the pale moonlight spilling in through the window.

As the faint illumination washed over her, revealing her in all her naked glory, Regina's breath hitched, unable to help the familiar wave of appreciation and desire that welled up inside her. Emma's physique was trim and fit, muscles lean, toned and capable of a raw strength her slender frame kept deceptively dormant in its cage of flesh and bone.

Regina was not ignorant to the darker side of this. When not considered a hindrance, riddled with proposed weaknesses that make her merely mortal, Emma's body was her greatest weapon, and like all her weapons, she kept this one honed and sharp. Any conceived flaws were considered unacceptable, and this practice has become obsessive, whether learning to use the longsword or dedicating herself to her magic lessons with a focus she had never before displayed.

They had lived their lives on edge for so long, constantly fighting, running, hiding, going into battle, struggling to survive. They had lived too long with the constant shadow of fear, the lingering rush of adrenaline after a battle. Before long, living life that way began to become part of who they are, becoming so far ingrained into their being that there was no escape.

The last battle had stolen a piece from all of them, their souls, their sanity, but Emma most of all. It was the nights she felt the most haunted that she came to Regina. And Regina never turned her away.

Darkness descended, and Emma became its creature, melting into the shadows to appear before their former queen. She would strip, quickly and efficiently, letting the clothes fall to the floor with little preamble. Her eyes would be dark and intense, demanding Regina's attention as they locked and held her gaze for the entirety of Emma's approach to the bed.

Regina would slid back the blankets in invitation, and from there, Emma would lose her control. She would tumble into the bed, eager for skin-to-skin contact, and before Regina could form a conscious thread of thought, Emma's hands would be on her body, her mouth seeking Regina's.

They were never gentle. Emma's kisses were hard and demanding, her touch rough and seeking, but never careless. Regina was always left with the distinct impression that no matter how aggressive they became, Emma would stop the moment she made any expression of discomfort. Ever the Savior, even when lost in lust and desperation.

They fucked. Regina found no need to cover that truth with any other label or euphemism. It was sex, but also something all their own. Desire, lust, need, they all became one in the same in those moments, fueling something so primal it was almost animalistic.

It always ended the same. Control snapped, thought was swept away in the tide, sanity all but forgotten as instinct took precedence in the mindless pursuit toward release. Regina had never before Emma experienced such a powerful moment that her mind could blank, her eyes blind to anything but need and raw sensation. Release...sweet release...her world shattered and reality was a distant memory, lingering in the very edges of consciousness if only for a few precious minutes.

Emma never slept through the night, restless and fitful. She was a creature of habit, pacing the floor through the same path of travel again and again. It never failed to remind Regina of a predator trapped in a cage. A wild, prowling jungle cat, all rippling muscles and sleek skin, moving with a fluid motion that was surely feline grace, abuzz with nervous energy.

She alternated between fretfully tangling his fingers in her hair or clenching her fists at her sides, as her body trembled and she visibly fought against some unseen inner demon. Regina could guess at the monsters the Savior battled with. They were both killers now, blood on their hands that would never wash away- but the difference was, the queen was a murderer, and her lover a hero.

There was absolutely nothing Emma could have done after Hook had changed loyalties yet again and chosen to do Rumpelstiltskin's bidding. Regina could still remember the soul-shaking fear she had felt realizing the Dark One had sent the pirate once again after Henry..and a crushed heart had been Emma's final defense in protecting their son.

The Savior had redeemed herself in the eyes of the town with that act, after a short spiral into darkness, the hypocrisy of which still inspired Regina to light with fireballs. It had been the infective spark of dark magic that Snow White and her Prince had had placed within their unborn daughter (to protect her from Regina, oh, the irony) that had left Emma open to the corruption in the first place. The whole ordeal may have been pardoned and forgotten, but the memories for Emma still remained, haunting her until the guilt and shame threatened to drown her.

And then it fell to Regina each night to keep the younger woman's head above water.

When the dawn arrived, Emma would be gone, and the happenings of the night would touch the light of day. Regina would still feel the ghostly lingering of her touch, still feel the finger-shaped bruises left by desperate and need hands. She would sometimes glimpse the screaming red lines left by her nails running down Emma's shoulders and back, but Emma never acknowledged them, and Regina never commented.

Regina knew Emma Swan's need, her passion, her pain. She knew her hopes, she knew her fears, she knew her loves and hates. But what she wanted most, was to know her lover's trust, and the hope to have it was reignited every time Emma curled up against her side, rested her head against her breast, and simply let herself breathe.