Nazlanmak /nahz-lahn-mahk/: pretending reluctance or indifference when you're actually willing or eager.

They are 20 and 23 years old.

Emma

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – turn.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – turn.

And repeat. Until you can't take it anymore.

"Dad just stop pacing."

"I'm worried Emma." His pacing doesn't stop

"So am I, but I am not causing obvious grievance to anyone."

"That doesn't make sense."

You shrug. "It sounded nice." You watch him pace a little longer. When you are sure he will never stop, you get up to stand in his way. He stops. You place your hands on his shoulders. "Dad seriously. Stop. It will all be fine. And anyways, they are just doing some tests right now. Save it for the actual surgery."

He smiles at you, places a kiss on your forehead and finally takes a seat. You sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. The two of you sit there for almost an hour, before the nurse gives you the green signal to go to your mom's room. You tell your dad you will grab some coffee before heading to the room. He kisses you on the forehead again before making his way to the lift.

You pick up your book (which is obviously the latest in 'The Dresden Files' series) and start walking towards the coffee cart you saw on the ground floor. You almost trip around three to four times on the stairs due to lack to attention. You also almost bang yourself into the cart, but stop yourself just a few steps short.

"Are you going to order something?"

"Ahh, coffee." You reply without lifting your eyes of the book.

"Plain coffee?"

"Huh?" You tear your eyes away from the book to look at the barista.

"What kind of coffee do you want?" She punctuates every word. Somebody is in a foul mood.

"A latte, please and thank you." You don't bother hiding your own annoyance. You lean against the stairwell railing, engrossed in your book once again.

"Here ya go Doc. Do you want something else?" You pause your reading to see who in the world triggered this sudden change of tone in the barista. Your grip on the book tightens, your breathe hitching repeatedly. You feel weak, an abrupt headache present.

You lean further into the rail, ignoring the pain in your back. Oh heavens, do you need all the support in the world right now.

Its clichéd, overused and outright ridiculous – but it happens. The world around you slows down, it blurs to a mere nothing and you find yourself back in the convenience store. Her lips on yours, the empty feeling after, you on your knees crying your heart out and no one to offer you a tissue box. Your wish there was someone to hold your heart. It just feels so heavy.

You weaken, collapsing to the floor. With an arm stretched she hurries towards you. Her touch sends a shock through your body, and you slap it away. "Don't touch me."

There are tears in her eyes. Good. You want her to cry. You suddenly desire to cause her some more pain. She tries to reach you again.

"I said DON'T." You load the words with anger, pain, suffering, heartache and spit them out at her.

"Emma please." She doesn't reach out again.

"O don't you dare say my name. You. Have. No. Right." The muscles in your face are tense, and discomforting. She is crying now. Everyone around is looking at this spectacle, not completely stopping but not entirely moving along. She looks at you with the softest of expressions, yours the complete opposite. "And please, oh I beg you please, do cry some more."

Her eyes on the ground, a darkness spreads across her face. She doesn't even chance a glance at you after. She just leaves. Typical.

You breathe again.

Regina

No matter how much you try, you can't seem to be able to focus on anything. You have retreated into one of the on-call rooms. You attempt to rest. You fail. Every time you close your eyes you can see her face. So full of malice and rage. Her words have wounded you. You deserved them though, didn't you?

Many a times you had imagined something like this happening, in case this world was cruel enough to bring you two face to face again. You had imagined a million scenarios, and emotions running astray. Never for a second had you imagined the true weight of the grief you had cast upon her. What did you think you were doing all those years ago? Dragging it along when you knew it could never go anywhere.

Yes, you did deserve it.

Your pager beeps again. You ignore it. You lie still on the bed, counting every breath just to give you something else to do. There is a knock on the door.

"Dr. Mills, are you in there?"

"Yes." You make no effort to move.

"You are needed in room 209."

"Tell them to find someone else. I'm not feeling too well."

"Dr. Scott has specifically asked for you."

You huff. "Alright fine. Tell him I will be there."

It's a struggle to get yourself off the bed and into motion. You stroll towards the room on the lower floor. Dr. Scott can wait a little longer. As you cross the room, you see him chatting to the patient. A figure sits hunched in the corner, head hanging low, reading a book. Oh shit! You try to sneak past the room but Dr. Scott turns at the last possible moment and catches you.

"Ah Dr. Mills. You are finally here." You want to slap the pleasantry out of him. With your hands tucked inside your coat pocket, you walk inside and stand beside him. He places a hand around your shoulders and you suppress an urge to kick him in the shins.

"This right here," he says, patting the side of your arm, "is our prodigal wonder." You avert your eyes from Emma and give the couple a smile. They don't return it. You don't blame them. No one wants a 23 year old operating on you. No matter how intelligent you are. Patients always have their reservations about your age.

Even Dr. Scott knows this, so he continues, "I know what you are thinking. Such a young doctor and you don't feel too good about this. But please let me assure you," he moves his other arm to place it over his chest, "that she is as good as any. I give you my personal guarantee that there is no problem here at all." The couple smiles politely at you two, not wholly reassured.

"So this is Dr. Regina Mills, and Doctor this is your patient Mrs. Mary Margaret Swan and her husband Mr. David Swan." You don't care about their names, and you shift your eyes once more to look at Emma.

Mr. Something Swan must have noticed it, "Ah that, Dr. Mills, is my daughter – Emma. She gets a little too immersed in a book sometimes." His smile is more genuine, and you see where Emma gets her softness from.

"Ah alright then. Now that you have met, I will forward your test details to Dr. Mills here, and we will try to put you up on board as soon as possible. Do you have any questions?" He looks between the couple and they shake their heads. "Very well then, we should get going."

His arm finally drops from your shoulder and with one last look at Emma – who hasn't even remotely looked at you – you walk out behind him.

He hands you the files, and you ask him if someone else can take the case. He refuses. The jerk that he is. He even asks you to follow up later and see her through the recovery process. You stare daggers at him, but he remains unfazed, gives you another pat on the back and leaves. You thump your forehead on the counter a couple of times and let it rest there.

You hear her whisper in your ear, "Karma is a bitch, isn't it." And then she is gone.

You dare not lift your head in fear that people might see your tears.

Emma

It's the day of your mom's surgery. Your dad decides to wait it out in the waiting room, leaving you in your mom's hospital room. There is a knock at the door and she walks in. You know her name now, but you do not wish to think it – ever.

"I'm – I'm sorry. I thought your father –"

"In the waiting room." You state, faking detachment. In reality, you are dying to talk to her. Have her be the one to tell you how the operation went and what you can do to help your mother.

"Right, yes." She clears her throat. "Sorry." She leaves, closing the door.

You press the book to your face. "Arrgghh. What the fuck!"

They get your mom to the room about ten minutes later. She is still heavily sedated. Your dad tells you that her recovery will take a month and that they plan to keep her there for at least two to three weeks. He also tells you that Dr. Mills will be the one over seeing her recovery. What was it that Dresden said? Ah yes 'Hell's bells, irony blows.'

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You see her every damn day. Can you imagine the torture? The need to talk to her yet not willing to. The want to look at her yet afraid she might catch you. Your eagerness to ask her if she is ready now? Yet you don't, for you know that she will say the word that you do not wish to hear.

A week goes by in this place that you have deemed your own personal purgatory. Then you do something that you shouldn't have. You flirt your way into acquiring her home address.

For the next nine days, you stand in front of her door, your palms and forehead pressed to it. You listen to everything – the music, the TV, the sound of her feet, the cooking noises – everything. But not her voice.

You stand there for hours, bearing the awful pain that she is just a knock away. You despise yourself for being so mean to her, once you realize how really alone she is. But none of it gives you enough courage to lift your hand for a knock.

One day you thump your forehead a little too hard on the door.

"Who is it?" You hear her ask.

"Oh shit. Oh shit." You whisper as you make a run for the stairs. You stop on the floor below, relaxing yourself against the wall. When you hear her door click shut, you slump to the floor and bury your head between your knees as you silently start to weep.

There is a tap on your shoulder, "Want some tissues?"

You lift your head and see a tissue box in front of you. An involuntary laugh escapes your lips. You take a few and thank her. She nods and does not move her eyes from you as you wipe away the tears and snot.

"Hi." She says once you are done cleaning up.

"Hey." She sits down beside you.

The silence returns. You don't stop watching your tissue-fidgeting hands. She doesn't stop watching at you. There is so much you need to say to her but no words said at that very moment would seem right. She stops your fiddling with her hand. The touch causes you to take a sharp breath.

"Why are you here Emma?"

"Regina." You whisper. Her name sounds both familiar and foreign on your tongue. You turn your body to face her, your entwined hands now resting on your knees. There is glint of happiness in her eyes. It warms you and gives you the courage to ask her what you need to. "First of all, I'm sorry I should never have –"

"Don't apologise." She says cutting you off. "I very much deserved it."

"No you did not. Ok maybe a little." She chuckles. "But I'm still sorry. Please accept it."

"If it makes you feel better. I accept your apology Emma Swan."

"Thank you. There is one more thing." She nods, urging you on. "You said to me - you told me - you said –"

"Yes I understand that part."

You glare at her, she grins at you. You take a deep breath and prepare your words. "You said that one day you will be ready –"

"I'm leaving."

You arch a brow at her in utter disbelief "NOW? That's rude. To just leave like that when someone is talking to you."

She shakes her head. "No Emma. I'm leaving."

Your head drops, your gaze going back to your entwined fingers. "Oh." You wait a couple of beats. "I was wondering when that was going to happen."

"Your mom's recovery is almost done. She doesn't need me to see it through. I can't stay, love. You know I can't." Fresh tears spill from your eyes. She wipes them away with her thumb.

"I know." You murmur. "I know."

She lifts your head with her finger. "Look at me." You oblige. "You are beautiful Emma. Inside and out. And I just know you can do so much better. Remember what I told you when we first met. I am not worth your tears."

You shake your head over and over as you hear her say these words. "I don't want to do better. I – I love you." You seem to have shattered her with your words. You see her world crumbling down. "Regina please, you don't have to be alone." Your words are desperate and urgent.

She smiles at you and traces your lower lip with her finger. You close your eyes and let the sensation of her touch wash over you. You open your eyes to a kiss just like a whisper and watch her fingers slip out of yours as she, once again, walks away from you.

You can't trust yourself to move. You sit there until you can.

You fail to notice the box on the floor where she sat. A little chit under it has your name on it. With trembling hands you pick it up and open it. There are two items in it, each with a note of its own.

You pick up the ring. It has a green stone on it, maybe an emerald. The note says: You have given me so much that nothing can replace it. I have been unfair in that way. And I cannot think of a better way to return the favour, except with this ring. It belonged to my mother. She wore it because she was told it will bring her love. Maybe for that reason she gave it to me. But you deserve it more than I do. Keep it close.

Your hands are shaking erratically now. It takes you a few minutes to compose yourself enough to open the second note. It is accompanied with a little silver pendant, which has a swan engraved into it. The note is short – you are grace, you are beauty, you are poetry - much like this pendant. Stay strong, my love. And try to forgive me.

Suddenly you are filled with adrenaline. You run up to her apartment and bang at the door. There is no answer. "Regina, open the damn door." She doesn't. Her neighbour informs you that she just left – with luggage. You ask her from where, and she points to the lift. You curse yourself and run down the flight of stairs. When you exit the building you see her getting into a cab.

Maybe she got the feeling that someone was watching her, or maybe she knew you were there. Whichever it was, right before closing the door, she turns to you. Before you can move a muscle, she smiles and closes the door.

You stand paralysed, staring into an empty nothing, long after the she is gone.

A/N: So this is the second last chapter. The pendant I am talking about it the one JMo wears in the show. You can find it on (just to ogle over, cause its for 160$. yep im in shock too :P)

This chapter is also very very very and i assure you i can not stress enough how VERY heavily influenced it is by all those heartbreaking songs by Sara Bareilles.

Ryoko05 - you are welcome. and thank you for reviewing both the chapters. Same goes for MsCrazyBird. I was hoping the names would help me define the chapters better. I am glad it has done so.
Thanks to the others who reviewed too. You people are too sweet. I mean no criticism at all. I don't write that well. Infact I don't write well at all. So my many heartfelt thanks to you beautiful souls.