This has been up on AO3 - just the first three chapters - for a while. Now that the fic is complete, I've shared it here with you all.
Please let me know what you think. If you're put off by the possibility of het, please note it's barely mentioned and only occurs off-screen. All action is f/f, I thank you!
Graham is the obvious candidate, of course, but Regina soon finds that freezing time has other unfortunate effects. Nobody under the thrall of the curse will be procreating any time soon, which presumably explains her own less than inspiring results.
Unacceptable.
She keeps sleeping with Graham, though. A woman needs a hobby.
BABY BABY
"You're saying I'm hostile?" Regina snaps, leaning over the desk and ready to grab the weaselly little man by his tie.
"No! Not at all," Doctor Whale corrects. "What I'm saying is that your uterus is hostile. To uh, life."
"I want a second opinion," Regina fumes, already plotting revenge for this humiliating little scene.
BABY BABY
"Gold!" She calls out as she enters his dingy pawn shop. Why she didn't see fit to include another attorney in the citizens of Storybrooke is beyond her at the moment, but this should (hopefully) be less effort than rewriting anyone else's mind.
"Regina," says that strange little voice from somewhere behind the counter. "You're interrupting my meditation. Again."
"I have a job for you," she says, blithely ignoring his complaint. "So unfold yourself from Downwards Facing Dog and get your lawyer's hat on, please."
"It's Lotus," he grumbles, but a moment later he's on his feet.
"What can I do for you, Madam Mayor?" Gold asks, and she should really have paid more attention to the glint in his eye.
BABY BABY
Adoption is a headache the likes of which Regina has neither the time nor patience for; not to mention the sneering she'll endure as a single mother. Gold talks her out of that in short order, leaving fostering or surrogacy as her only viable options. Well, there's always kidnapping, but... no, Regina wants to do this one thing properly.
She fires up her laptop and begins searching for a reliable guide to surrogacy.
Two hours later, despite the fluttering reservations that lurk in the back of her mind, she picks up the phone and dials Gold's number from memory.
"Find me someone who'll have my baby," she orders, hanging up straight away. She closes her browser and decides a glass of cider is the best way to celebrate.
BABY BABY
Emma rolls her Bug to a stop outside what appears to be the town's only functioning business: a run-down diner with a creaking sign. She looks up and down the almost-deserted street, whistling in surprise at just how dead it is. Some people really mean it when they say 'small town', it turns out.
She stretches after the four-hour drive, reaching for the Big Gulp on the passenger seat and the directions scribbled on the back of a beermat.
It would be easy enough to just go looking for this guy's pawn shop, it's not like there's much to get lost in, but Emma feels like food and maybe a little conversation first. If she's going to run a decent con she needs intel, and where better to get that than in the one place in town that actually has some life in it?
It's too hot for her leather jacket, so she leaves it in her Bug and locks up. There's a little splash of melted strawberry slush on her white tank top, and these jeans could probably do with a trip to the laundromat, but Emma smells cheeseburger coming from the diner and that's her mind made up.
She pushes open the door to the diner, smiling at the weak breeze of air-con, and looks around for a free table.
BABY BABY
Regina is pacing back and forth in Gold's shop, while he scurries behind the counter, pulling valuable items out of her range as she completes each lap of the small space.
"Where is she?" Regina snaps, consulting the cuckoo clock for the twentieth time, followed by her own watch. "If she can't be trusted to show up for a simple meeting, how can I be expected to trust her with a fetus?"
"If you could just exercise a little patience, Madam Mayor," Gold says in that irritating way he has. "Perhaps you'd care for a wheatgrass smoothie to pass the time?"
"That," Regina tells him, quite firmly, "is the last thing I would care for right now."
But a moment later the shop's bell rings, and Regina turns to look at the potential birth mother of her child.
Oh. Well, this will not do at all.
BABY BABY
"I'm looking for Mr. Gold?" Emma says, eyeing the other woman in the store nervously.
"That's me, dearie," says the skinny man with the shaggy hair. His voice is familiar from the phone, Emma realizes, with that accent that she can't quite place.
"I'm here about the surrogate... thing," Emma says, striding past the woman who's staring at Emma like she's something the cat dragged in. "I brought all my medical records, and the test results like we discussed."
"You've got to be kidding me," the dark-haired woman says, stepping in to snatch the binder from Emma's hand. It takes a lot of willpower on Emma's part not to snatch it right back, and throw in a slap for good measure. Well, this confirms it: here's the mother.
"Hey," Emma says, trying for bright and breezy. "Wait 'til you see how primed I am for baby-making."
"Charming," the woman snorts.
"Now, Regina. Please be polite. Miss... Swan, isn't it?" Mr. Gold asks. Emma nods in confirmation. "You'll have to excuse the Mayor; she has a lot on her mind."
"You're the one who wants a baby?" Emma asks, taking in the perfect clothes, the perfect hair... yeah, this lady is pretty much dripping money.
"From a... suitable surrogate, yes," Regina says.
Emma feels the temptation to turn and run. There are easier ways to make money, after all. But something in this stuck-up bitch's cold smile pushes a button somewhere, and Emma summons up her best shit-eating grin.
"Well, looks like today is your lucky day."
BABY BABY
The guy who drives them back to Regina's fancy house is pretty hot, Emma decides as she sits in the back of a police cruiser; at least this time there are no cuffs and nobody has read her her rights. Both the snooty Mayor lady and her scruffy chauffeur keep catching Emma's eye in the rear view mirror, but she just smiles blandly each time, risking a cheeky wink at the dude, which almost causes him to drive into a postbox. The jumpy type, Emma makes a mental note not to spook him around Queen Bitch again anytime soon.
The house is pretty ridiculous, and Emma barely covers her whistle as she bounds out of the car towards the lush lawns.
"Keep off the grass," Regina snaps from somewhere behind her, and Emma drags her feet until she's back on the brick path.
"Yes, ma'am," Emma says, without a scrap of respect in either word. She shuts up long enough to be led into some kind of fancy sitting room with uncomfortable couches and ugly paintings that probably cost more than Emma's car and crappy apartment combined. Drinks are poured, and Emma opens her mouth to complain when she's handed some boring orange juice.
"Surely," Regina cuts her off. "You're avoiding alcohol while you're preparing to conceive."
"Right," Emma says, thinking fondly of the six pack of Miller she polished off last night. "And taking all my vitamins, too." If by vitamins she means Pop Tarts and peanut butter cups, anyway.
"Obviously, I have some questions," Regina says, sitting down on one of the sofas and still managing to look like she has a big ol' stick up her butt. Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes, but she flashes a knowing smile at the hunk in the corner nursing a glass of Scotch.
"Me too," Emma says, already tired of the bullshit. "I mean, you're not the only potential mother I'm considering giving this... gift to."
There it is, Emma thinks. She was willing to bet anyone with a life this fancy would have a killer competitive streak, and the thought of someone else renting out Emma's womb for nine months just isn't going to fly. That prissy mouth forms a tight little line, and Emma knows she's halfway in.
"Is this daddy?" Emma says, nodding towards the man who's waiting patiently.
"No," Regina says firmly. "Graham is a dear friend, and the Sheriff here in town. I'll be raising the child alone."
"Brave," Emma says, figuring a little flattery can't hurt. "But you can obviously provide for a kid."
"Yes," Regina confirms, preening just a little. Emma relaxes at her imminent victory. "What about you, Miss Swan? No plans for a family of your own - you're only twenty-six, after all? Is there a husband or a boyfriend going to come interfering? That is, if we go ahead."
"Nope," Emma replies, draining the juice from her glass in one greedy mouthful. "Just me. I'm... how can I say this? I'm looking for a fresh start. And taking a nine month break to do this seems like a good way to change my life."
"And you'll move here, to Storybrooke, until the baby is born?" Regina presses, and there's something about her that suggests she's looking for a fight. Emma isn't going to give her one, no matter how strong the urge is.
"Yup," Emma confirms. "Mr. Gold explained the conditions really well. I guess I'll just give you some time to think it over. I have another appointment, in Bangor, so..."
Emma stands to leave, wiping her hands on her jeans before sticking her right hand out to shake. Regina considers her for a moment, giving Emma a long look over from head to toe. Then Regina stands, offering her own hand in that limp, professional way that Emma sees on politicians and assholes everywhere.
"Such a pleasure to meet you," Regina lies. "So what do you say we call these people in Bangor and tell them you're no longer available?"
"That's a 'yes'?" Emma asks, gripping Regina's fingers just hard enough to hurt.
"As soon as we do the paperwork," Regina admits. They both drop their hands back to their respective sides, and Emma bites back the instinct to punch the air in victory.
BABY BABY
It's decided, then, that Graham will drive Emma back to her car and get her settled at Granny's, all billed to Regina, of course. Regina has more than enough room in the mansion, but until paperwork is done and eggs are implanted, Granny can finally have a guest in her dusty Bed & Breakfast.
Regina settles back in the parlor with the rest of her drink and the files that the girl left, flicking through test results and medical terms that she's become all too familiar with. It's impossible to deny that Emma Swan is in prime physical condition to conceive, and in contrast to Regina's own disappointing numbers and levels, it's a wonder Emma doesn't become spontaneously pregnant from eye contact alone.
There are risks, of course, not least that having an outsider in town means potentially awkward questions, but honestly the girl doesn't seem all that bright. There's something uncomfortably familiar about her when she tilts her head in a certain way, but Regina supposes that seeing the same faces for so long without interruption has left her seeing patterns where none exist.
A week seems long enough to set things in motion, and to establish once and for all if Emma Swan is serious about giving Regina the child she so desperately craves. It's taken so long-so very long-to feel ready for that responsibility, to banish the specter of her own mother that looms over Regina's every minor failure. But no, this way Regina can control everything down to where and when the child is conceived. With a plan like that, what could possibly go wrong?
BABY BABY
Emma feels a bit like she's checking into the hotel from The Shining when the grumpy old woman hands over a giant metal keychain, the key on it kind of an afterthought.
"Room 4," 'Granny' mutters, waving her hand vaguely towards a staircase that looks one good run away from collapse. "You got bags?"
"I can manage," Emma says, hoisting her battered duffel bag over her shoulder. "Thanks," she adds as an afterthought, watching as a young woman comes barreling down those rickety stairs in a cloud of hairspray and perfume.
"We got a guest?" The girl shouts across the reception area.
"Yes, Ruby," the old woman says with serious impatience. "So if I find out that you've hosted another party in Room 4..."
"It's spotless!" Ruby says, honing in on Emma and grabbing her by the arm, dragging Emma towards the stairs before she can think to protest. "Come on, I'll help you settle in."
"That's really not necessary," Emma says, trying to wrest her arm free of Ruby's surprisingly strong grip. "As long as the room has a bed and a shower, I'm good to go."
"You must be tired..." Ruby says as they march upstairs, obviously waiting for Emma to fill in the blank.
"Emma," she supplies, trying to sound like she gives a damn. Once she has the money in the bank and Maine is a speck in the rearview mirror, she's going to change that anyway, so it doesn't really matter how many people she tells here.
"Emma," Ruby repeats, like she's saying the name for the first time. "Well, if you want to have a nap that's cool. But you have to let me take you out tonight, or you'll die of boredom."
"I'm not much for going out," Emma lies smoothly. "And I, uh, can't drink at the moment," she latches onto the excuse, ignoring the fifth of vodka currently hidden in her purse.
"Diet Cokes it is then," Ruby says too easily, and Emma is pretty sure those will all be coming spiked with rum. And that's roughly when she decides to go along with it; it's been a long time since anyone wanted to take her drinking for any agenda beyond getting in her pants. Not that Emma would mind if Ruby tried, certainly, but messy entanglements mean snooty Regina might reconsider her investment, and Emma's already planning a few months in somewhere with a beach on that cash.
"You wore me down," Emma says as she unlocks her door, using her body to block Ruby from following her in. "But you were right about that nap."
"See you in the diner at 9 then," Ruby replies with a shrug, spinning away back down the hall with a smile on her face and a sway in her hips. "Hope you're ready for the wildest night Storybrooke has to offer."
"Yeah," Emma says, shutting the door firmly. "Somehow, I think I'll cope."
BABY BABY
"Srrrrrffffff," Emma tries to say as the scruffy, handsome guy catches her.
"Emma?" Graham asks, his face swimming in and out of focus. "I'd better get you home before Regina finds out."
"S'nice," Emma slurs, stumbling a bit more as he tries to help her walk. He really is very strong. It's when he picks Emma up to carry her up those damn stairs in the B&B that she decides to kiss him.
BABY BABY
The knocking at the door has Emma awake and halfway across the floor before her eyes are even done opening. Not to open the door, of course, she's not an idiot. No, she's trying to barricade herself into the tiny bathroom when she discovers someone else had the same idea.
"Um, Gordon?" Emma tries, squinting in the semi-darkness at him.
"Graham," he whispers. "And I'm pretty sure that's Regina knocking on the door."
"Shit!" Emma says, kicking out at the sink. "Did we-"
"No!" Graham answers. "You passed out and I slept on the floor to make sure you didn't choke on... well, to make sure you were okay."
"A real gentleman," Emma says, and it's not as scornful as it might be. "And it explains why you're still dressed, at least."
"Well, one of us should be," Graham says with that easy grin. A grin that evaporates at the next round of thumping knocks. "You should answer. She doesn't give up."
"I'm beginning to get that impression," Emma sighs, grabbing the mini bottle of mouthwash and sloshing the green liquid around her mouth for a couple of seconds. "Wish me luck."
BABY BABY
When the girl answers the door wearing no more than a white tank top and bright red underwear, it takes an almost superhuman effort for Regina not to roll her eyes. Summoning every ounce of the politician's patience she's learned in this land, Regina forces a smile onto her mouth and selects a shiny, red apple from the basket.
"Miss Swan," she says brightly. "I know we're not meeting until tomorrow, but I wanted to bring you these. Honeycrisp apples, fresh from my own garden."
"That's... nice of you?" Emma replies, shifting from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact as she takes the offered fruit. "I uh, haven't had breakfast yet."
"Of course," Regina says, and when the invitation isn't forthcoming, she pushes past Emma into the sparsely decorated room. Clothes all over the floor, and the bed looks like a tornado hit it. Regina feels her nose wrinkle just a little before she gets the disgust under control; after all, the way a person organizes their belongings doesn't generally reflect on the health of their uterus.
"I just wanted to remind you," Regina says. "That tomorrow is a very important day, and I expect you to treat it that way. If you waste my time, or these precious eggs, in any way..."
"Listen," Emma snaps, clearly caught off-guard. "I signed your damn contract. I'm staying at the Bates Motel so you can keep an eye on your investment. And look," she says, taking an exaggerated, crunching bite from the apple Regina handed her. "I'm eating all healthy."
"You should have washed that first," Regina says sourly, but it's hard not to warm to the aggressive arguing. There's something of Regina's own fighting spirit in that.
"Tastes fine to me," Emma says, mouth full. Regina shudders at the crassness of it. Perhaps What to Expect will have a section on whether or not bad manners are hereditary.
"Well," Regina says, turning to leave. "I'll see you at the hospital tomorrow? Eleven, sharp."
"I'll be there," Emma says, already retreating towards the bathroom door in the corner. Well, she certainly looks like she could use a long, hot shower, Regina thinks as she walks out into the hallway. For a second, as she walks away, she could swear she hears the low rumble of a man's voice, but she has a town to run and so she carries on downstairs.
BABY BABY
"No way!" Emma protests, practically standing up in the stirrups. "Get her out of here!"
"Mayor Mills said you agreed to her being here for the procedure," the doctor says, waving that scary syringe and the world's biggest needle around like it's nothing.
"Like hell I did," Emma grunts, trying to pull the flimsy hospital gown over her exposed parts.
"I'd refer you to page seven of your contract, Miss Swan," Regina says, crossing her arms in a way that just dares Emma to argue with her.
"Seriously?" Emma shrieks, before slumping back against the one flat pillow in temporary defeat. "Fine. But for the love of God, please come to this end."
Regina shrugs, before crossing the room to take her place by Emma's shoulder.
"Thank you," Emma grunts, as the needle heads back towards her cervix.
BABY BABY
Regina's trying desperately to focus on the latest budget revisions for repaving the streets, but the numbers swim in front of her eyes as she finds herself thinking about cradles and diapers and names. She learned a long time ago not to put the cart before the horse, but the compulsive planner in her is already weighing paint samples against baby-proofed furniture finishes and as long as she doesn't act on the thoughts, she can convince herself it's idle daydreaming.
Dr. Whale was quite strict on the two week wait, but Regina sent Emma back to the B&B with a bag full of pregnancy tests anyway. They've spoken daily, but with very little grace on Emma's part, with some conversations consisting of little more than a sigh and a roll of the eyes. It would seem Miss Swan has become adept at losing herself in the relatively small area of Storybrooke, and without Graham's help Regina would be at a loss to unearth the girl some days.
It's still two days until the test can be taken, and so Regina is back to focusing on the budget when the telephone rings.
"Yes?" She snaps, unsure why her assistant hasn't announced the call.
"Madam Mayor? It's Emma," she says, and Regina can't exactly fault her on the manners. There's a hitch in Emma's breath that suggests... no, Regina can't allow her hopes to be dashed. Patience, just a little more patience.
"Was there something you needed, Miss Swan?" Regina says, and it's not quite as bored or businesslike as it might be.
"I, uh, don't get mad or anything," Emma hedges, causing Regina to roll her eyes. "But I couldn't wait. I took the test, in fact I took three."
"And?" Regina snaps, hardly daring to believe the moment of truth is here already.
"Well, it looks like you knocked me up," Emma says, laughing around the words. "You're having a baby, Regina."
Regina's so happy she doesn't even flinch at the informality. The surge that courses through her chest is so powerful she can't breathe, and it's stronger than she dared to hope after all these years of pleasant numbness. It's as though the world has suddenly turned on its volume and brightened every color, and she presses shaking fingers to her forehead to let the sensation sink in.
"Really?" Regina gasps. "Are you sure?"
"I might not be a rocket scientist," Emma snarks back. "But even I can tell the difference between a plus and a minus. Definitely positive. Three times."
"That's wonderful news," Regina says warmly, her calm mask slipping back into place by degrees. "If you don't have plans, I'd like to take you to dinner tonight, Miss Swan. This is news worth celebrating."
"On one condition," Emma has the cheek to fire back.
"Name it," Regina sighs, wondering if she's about to be blackmailed into chili fries or some other monstrosity.
"You call me by my first name," Emma demands, but she sounds impossibly young, almost shy as she says it.
"Very well, Emma," Regina agrees. "I'll pick you up at seven."