Am I Wicked?

"Are people born wicked or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?" she asks, stopping you in your tracks.

You stop, back still to her, mulling over the question she just asked. You think about her such odd choice of words. 'Wicked' - that's a word barely used in the proper context in this time anymore. It's also a word you've only ever been called once by that dastardly precious Snow White.

You turn back around to face her, wondering just why she'd ask you of all people that question. You're not sure how to answer because you're not sure of why she asked that particular question. You decide that just giving a general answer that doesn't pertain to anything or anyone will be best.

"I think wickedness is created in people," you reply, your eyes not meeting hers, hoping she won't see the truth behind them if she can't see them.

"Created?" she asks dumbfounded like she'd never given thought to it.

"Yes, created Miss Swan," you tell her condescendingly, "I do not believe anyone is born wicked. Wickedness comes from being betrayed; it comes from anger and pain. It is not thrust upon anyone like a coat in a winter storm. It is created inside a person, in the depths of their anger, pain and despair. Wickedness only comes when someone nurtures those feelings inside themselves. It is the amalgamation of every bad feeling they've had that seeps through their body into their soul and overtakes them," you tell her darkly, your eyes darkened in anguish and your voice low.

She stares at you, eyes wide and suddenly you realize your mistake. You've said too much and now you know she knows you were not talking about just anyone; you know she's connected the dots - you were talking about yourself. You see the realization in her eyes and you can't help but falter.

You feel vulnerable in her presence and it's not something you're used to. You've only ever been this vulnerable in front of two people; your father and your beloved, but that had been a long time ago and you were young. You're heart had hardened since then and you don't know how Emma freaking Swan has gotten through you're defenses.

"Regina," she gasps and it surprises you because you've never so much as heard her utter your name before.

"Am I wicked?" you ask her before you can think about it but you wait anyway because you do want to know her answer.

"If wickedness can be created," she starts and you hold your breath in anticipation for her answer, "it can be destroyed," she continues, reaching forward and taking your hand in hers, taking your breath away.

You don't really know what's just happened but you think things have finally started to point to your happily ever after.

AN: So this was just a little drabble thing I did for a fairytale ficathon on LiveJournal and thought I'd share. Please review and I hope you enjoyed. :) LT.