#31daysofselfcare

Prompt: Who is more likely to be absolutely intolerable when they’re sick? How about when the other is sick or gets hurt? How do they look after each other?

Warning: Referenced child abuse.

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She’s a natural caregiver. She’s been a ruthless monarch, a madwoman and a mass murderer, but her hands that have bathed in blood for decades can touch your skin in the softest caress, expert and gentle as they rest on your forehead, brush back your hair, bring a spoon of soup to your weak lips or efficiently help you get changed. Regina has never been a people person, but Emma has always noticed the ease which with she takes care of others. It’s something that’s always been here, even in the frosty beginnings, this profound and seemingly endless ability to care and love, hiding under layers of hatred and detachment and cruelty. It had been here. Emma just hadn’t learned to see, yet. Now, she sees, and it’s beautiful how Regina grows into that love.

But she’s still unable to allow people to care back.

Regina’s rarely sick. It might be the relative immunity raising a child has given her, or the tough lifestyle she forces on herself. If she’s unwell, she doesn’t show it.

Unfortunately for her pride, not all illnesses are easy to conceal.

She’s been lying in her bed for an hour now, blinds closed, body resting above the covers, wearing nothing but cotton underwear, mittens over her hands, tightly bound around her wrists, clasping them together so she can’t remove the things or scratch herself with it. The hives have broken out on her skin in the middle of a town meeting where she was handling the sensitive issue of school bullying. At first it had been hard to breathe, then everything had become hot and sizzling, faces blurring in front of her eyes, her skin ran over by a thousand needles, itching and burning all at once, driving her to madness. They had found no allergic cause for her reaction at the hospital. Possibly due to stress. She’d been sent home with low-sedative antihistamines that didn’t do much to soothe the itching or her nerves, which is why Emma had finally come up with the solution to tie her hands before she scratched herself raw and bleeding, and had wisely stepped out of the room when Regina had hurled insults at her. She would have brushed it off and put it on Regina being a terrible patient, if she hadn’t seen something in her eyes – a flash of anxiety – that doesn’t sit well with her. Which is why she listens to no advice and ends up knocking sheepishly on Regina’s door and letting herself in after only a few minutes.

Regina casts her an aggressive glare, but the dried tears at the corner of her eyes don’t make it as threatening as the former queen would undoubtedly like it to be.

“I meant what I said, Emma. I want to be alone.”

“I meant what I said too when we first got together. I won’t let you push me away. Especially not when you need me.”

“I don’t need—” she gasps, screwing her eyes shut against the pain as the covers chafe her already irritated skin when she tries to straighten up. Emma sighs and goes to sit by her side on the bed, placing the cold compress she’s brought with her on Regina’s chest where the skin rash is particularly angry looking.

“Easy. You can yell at me while lying still, okay?”

Regina rolls her eyes but says nothing, visibly enjoying the momentary relief brought on by the cool cloth. They stay quiet for a few minutes, Emma regularly dipping the compress in the bowl of cold water she’s brought, soothing as much of Regina’s skin as she can.

“So. You’re gonna tell me what makes you so anxious?”

Regina scoffs. “Besides the ugly, painful rash and the public humiliation you mean?”

“You think you would be mocked for this? Regina, they were worried about you. You scared them. Even those who still don’t like you very much. I know this town’s not very bright, but they wouldn’t make fun of a sick person.”

“A sick person,” she mutters darkly, her eyes lowering down where her tied hands are resting. Emma follows her gaze, frowns. Cautious and gentle, she points to Regina’s hands.

“Something you wanna tell me?”

She softly dabs at Regina’s face with the cloth, in soothing, circular motions, it’s unneeded because her face at least is unscathed, but she can tell Regina appreciates it by the way her eyes flutter closed for a few seconds, the way her breathing gentles.

“I used to suck my thumb as a child. Until I was… five I think.” Regina’s eyes are completely shut now, avoiding Emma’s. She licks her lips before speaking again. “My mother hated it, naturally. Not only was it bad for my teeth, but it wasn’t the kind of immature behavior she wanted me to display to others. She tried many things, she slathered my thumbs in disgusting substances, took away my favorite toys, prevented me from seeing my father. I quickly stopped, but I slipped sometimes, especially at night. So my mother, she… she tied my thumbs to each of the bed posts. I—I couldn’t move from my bed all night. I couldn’t move. Not even to—” she swallows heavily, her head turning away. “To relieve myself. Mother was so angry whenever I had an accident. She—”

She stops, opening her eyes in fright, as if afraid of not being able to come back from memories becoming too vivid, but Emma’s hand on her cheek is grounding, calling her back. Regina slightly lifts her hands to look at them.

“I remember how they would be cramped in the morning. I couldn’t use them for a few hours. I couldn’t even hold a spoon.”

She barely feels Emma untying the knots, barely feel the tear pregnant with shame roll on her cheek. She shrugs.

“She did that for a week. It worked. I never sucked my thumb again, not even by mistake, not even in my sleep.”

She smiles as Emma brings her freed hands to her lips, kissing her knuckles in tender apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Regina squirms, slightly uncomfortable under Emma’s intense look.

“You should have told me. You should have freed yourself with magic, I – I would never tie you up against your will, I just wanted to help—”

She shuts up as Regina’s finger press over her lips.

“You did help me, Emma. It’s my fault for not telling you, but I’m afraid I wasn’t in the right mindset to. I’m sorry I was so awful with you earlier. And to be honest, I tend to forget I have magic when I face some… triggering situations. It sends me back to a time where I was helpless. Weak.”

“You’re not,” Emma urges, and Regina strokes her cheek, then winces as her body reminds her of her predicament, her fingers start scratching at Emma’s skin in pure reflex.

“I’d better put on these gloves again.”

“I have a better idea.”

And this is how Regina Mills finds herself soaking in a bathtub filled with cool water and powder oatmeal, while Emma gently combs her hair and treats her to funny tales of the last baby Neal disaster. It’s a home remedy she’s learned from her foster mother, Emma has told her, one of the few that were good to her (she didn’t need to tell Regina that part, she knows). She used to take them to soothe her eczema as a kid.

Regina finds herself relaxing as her skin no longer burns her, as Emma’s fingers work wonders on her scalp, as her voice quiets her frayed nerves.

It might not be so bad after all, having someone taking care of her.

Not that she would ever admit it to Emma’s laughing, knowing eyes.

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