Chapter Text
In hindsight, Narda thinks, this was probably going to happen one way or another.
Because Regina had never been one to pull punches - even more so as Valentina. And Narda had always been ridiculously stubborn - even more so when it comes to Regina. Narda hates all of it, of course, but hates herself most of all - because, at the end of the day, she could only ever blame herself for this.
This, being: Regina, right at the front door of Narda's own home. Which shouldn't be too complicated in itself, but.
It had been three years since she'd last seen Regina outside of a battlefield. Three years since she'd last spoken to her, not as Darna, but as Narda - as her friend.
(As something they could have been.)
"Hi," Regina says quietly. "I need your help."
This is inevitable, too - Narda doesn't say no.
-
The truth?
Narda had imagined this more times than she'd like to admit.
Had imagined herself, standing in Regina's office like nothing had changed, had imagined Regina with her warm gaze and soft smile walking over to her. They'd laugh, and they'd forgive each other too. You're too important, Regina would say. I can't afford to lose you.
But Narda had never prepared herself for it. Had never thought it could still happen, given everything. Regina had bitten her and sent her to the brink of death far too many times. And she'd done the same for her.
It's easy to pretend now, though. That's what makes this so dangerous.
"Regina." Narda clears her throat. Where does she even begin, really. "Why are you here?"
"I guess you're right. I should cut to the chase." Regina sits across from her, sipping a cup of coffee that Narda had made. She shifts around, looking oddly timid and, oh, this is new, Narda thinks to herself. "I don't remember anything."
Narda frowns. "What do you mean you don't remember anything?"
"I mean, I woke up in a hospital one day without any idea of who I was or why I was there in the first place." Regina looks down, eyebrows furrowed. She sighs, crosses her arms. "I only remembered my name. Not much else."
"This doesn't explain why you came to me."
"Because," Regina says, finally looking at her. "I remembered your name, too."
Oh.
There's a long and heavy silence that follows. Mostly because Narda doesn't really know what she can say in response to something like that. The guilt comes, naturally, settling deep in her chest, pressing down, down until she's running out of air, and Narda finds herself looking away first.
She could apologize. That makes sense, a little bit. She could say, I'm sorry for punching you through a dilapidated building, Regina. That sounds okay, maybe. I'm sorry that I dropped you off at the hospital and never looked back, but you did hate me, to be fair, so should we really point fingers?
Or she could ask. That makes even more sense. Why did you remember me, Narda wants to say, when all you ever wanted was to forget we'd ever met?
But she doesn't say it.
Narda knows she doesn't need to.
Regina is strangely nervous through all of this. She fidgets in her seat, shrinks into herself. "I'm sorry for dropping this on you, all of a sudden. I wish I could tell you more, but if anything I need more help getting answers."
"No, don't apologize," Narda manages to say. Steels herself, and tries to steady her voice. "I guess, um - I'm not really sure how I can help you. Like, I want to, of course, but-" She shrugs helplessly. "What do you want to know?"
"You," Regina says, open and sincere in a way that makes Narda ache all over. "I want to know you."
Narda feels like she had been punched in the gut. She must look that way too, because Regina quickly adds, "I mean, no pressure, of course! Like I said, I know this is really sudden, so I don't want you to feel like this is something you have to do-"
"But I want to." Narda finds herself moving closer to Regina, nevertheless. If this had been years ago, she might have reached out and held her hand. Her grip on her own coffee cup tightens instead. "If this is what you need, then of course I’d do it.”
Regina softens. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything.” Narda tries for a smile, and she hopes it looks as genuine as she wants it to be.
“Well, I really appreciate this, you know.” Regina seems shy again, which is endearing to Narda in a way that is excruciatingly familiar. “I just figured, there should be a reason why I remembered your name over everything else, right? You probably meant a lot to me, in some way.”
Narda wants to scream at this point. Because there’s only so much she can take when Regina is right in front of her like this, honest and vulnerable and unbearably beautiful in a way that only Regina could be, years after Narda had last been given the chance to see her as she truly is.
“You did, too,” Narda tells her. “Mean something to me.”
“Did?” Regina asks her, head tilted and eyebrows creased together. “Past tense?”
“Still do.” This feels like a confession. Narda says it anyway. “Present tense.”
This is the first time Regina smiles at her in a painfully long while, eyes crinkled and lips curled softly at the edges. It’s hard to see anything else when Regina smiles at you - Narda had realized this a long time ago. She finds there isn’t much else she’d like to see, either way.
There are consequences to this - she knows that better than anyone.
-
“She needs you,” Lola Berta tells her, hours after Regina had left their home. “It's been a long time since I'd seen her that lost.”
“Me too,” Narda admits. “I’m scared, though.”
Lola Berta eyes her from across the table, and pats her hand comfortingly. “No one ever said you weren’t allowed to be.”
“It’s just-” Narda closes her eyes. Feels the weight creeping in her bones and burying itself far beyond where she can reach. “This is Regina. We’ve been through too much together. We've literally tried to kill each other. I'm the reason why she’s even going through this, but the universe decides to play a sick joke so that instead of getting this chance to move on with our lives, she has to come to me, of all people. It’s so, so unfair, and I’m so, so exhausted, but-”
“But?” Lola Berta is gentle. Knowing, as always. But waits for Narda to say the words herself.
“But this is Regina,” Narda says. Feels more than hears her own voice breaking, because this is how it has always been with her. “I wouldn't know how to walk away from her even if I wanted to.”
“The good news is you don’t have to.” Lola Berta squeezes her hand again. Her voice is both kind and firm. When Lola Berta tells her she believes in something, Narda finds herself believing in it too. “You know, if anything, you’ve been given the chance to make things right again.”
They don’t say much after that. There wasn’t much left to say, really, and Lola Berta walks away with a quick kiss on Narda’s forehead and a reassuring embrace.
Later, as Narda flies off to the mountains where she had spent years training with her mother, she will close her eyes again. She will lean back on the rocks that had bruised her knees and her knuckles, and wish she were someone else.
We'll get out of this together, Regina had once said to her, standing right at the edge of the cliff. That feels like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was.
Narda had learned almost immediately after becoming Darna that the world isn't very generous with second chances. But if Lola Berta was right, and that was what she had with Regina, then she can't find it in herself to turn it away.
Almost on cue, she sees her phone light up with a new message.
See you tomorrow?
Narda laughs.
I'll be there.
Narda wonders, as she often does with all things tied to Regina, whether she can make it through this whole ordeal alive. If the pain is worth it, still - if there is any chance at all that they could both come out of this unscathed. There are never any answers, of course.
But she had taken worse risks before.
-
(There was a moment:
They’re younger. Much younger. Narda had found Regina, red in the face and hunched over her office desk.
Regina is different when she’s drunk. Something about the wine that chips away at the hard edges, and where Regina is cold and calculating everywhere else, the fact of the matter is she could never handle her liquor.
“Narda!” Regina’s eyes are bright. She stands and falls back down on the chair right away, but she isn’t deterred. Soon Narda feels a warm hand around her wrist. “You’re finally here, I’ve been asking for you all day!”
“I’m sorry, I got caught up in an emergency.” Narda wraps an arm around Regina’s waist to steady her, and it’s instinct, almost. She leads them to the couch because Regina is barely standing as is, but Regina doesn’t let go even as they stumble onto the cushions. It’s closer than they’ve ever been. Closer than Narda ever thought they could be, really.
But not close enough for Regina, apparently, who buries her face in Narda’s neck almost immediately. “You and your mysterious emergencies,” Regina murmurs. “You’re surprisingly secretive, Miss Custodio.”
“You’re one to talk,” Narda jokes. Deflecting is easier, as always. There are days when Narda still wants to crawl out of her own skin. There are too many tethers, but Narda tries anyway. She thinks she deserves that, at least.
“You already know more about me than anyone else.” Regina laughs, curls even closer to her. “God, what I’d do to know all your secrets.”
“I don’t have any,” Narda says. She hopes that Regina can’t hear the quiver in her voice. “You know everything about me.”
“No, I don’t.” For a moment, Regina looks surprisingly sober. She brushes a hand against Narda’s cheek. She smiles, a little ruefully, and Narda wonders if Regina knows. Wonders if she knows who Narda really is - wonders if she knows how Narda feels. “But it’s okay. You were so patient with me before, and you deserve nothing less now.”
“What would you do?” Narda asks, before she could even think about it. “If I turned out to be nothing like you thought I was?”
There’s nothing but the distant sound of traffic for what feels like minutes. Or hours. Narda would have thought Regina was asleep, but her voice breaks through the silence, eventually.
“That’s easy,” Regina finally replies, sounding a little softer and more far away. Narda feels her smile against her shoulder. “I’d just have to get to know you all over again.”
This makes sense, too, Narda thinks. Because Regina is different when she’s drunk, and where Regina has impenetrable walls and strongholds everywhere else, the fact of the matter is she loses all sense of inhibition the moment she drinks. Whether it’s for better or for worse, Narda has yet to decide.
For now, Narda tells herself as she settles into the couch, Regina’s arm still draped over her waist - she doesn’t need to know.)