Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they are Disney's and the spins come from the wonderful minds of Adam and Eddy.
This is a story written for the SwanQueen BigBang of 2015, otherwise known as Three Dollar Bill. Thus, the work presented is already complete, and for your viewing pleasure. Hope you enjoy.
IM's Note: Special thanks to: QueenofallSwans, for her amazing beta work, Banrions or Celaenos for her cheering and Nicamon, for his amazing FanArt
Warning: mentions of drug use, rape (non-explicit), some profane language and violence in later chapters
Also, Regina is asexual, for background story reasons
My Baby's Mama
Coincidence
Regina Mills was a strong, independent woman with an unusual business. Whenever she said she was the owner, people gave her a funny look and asked how she came to such an endeavor. Her answer was always the same: "so children can learn, is that not obvious enough?"
The comment that now came off her tongue like a greeting, just made others upset. They usually just did not understand the logistics of her argument; not many could for that matter.
Such was the reaction of the couple that came over to speak to her. "Video games are a waste of time." The woman replied with a scoff, as if the argument could stand alone. They had probably just come over to see if what they had heard and read about her was true or not; it was how many annoying conversations began.
For some reason, the lack creativity of the common masses was always astounding. That was the same thing people always told her; as if she hadn't heard it a hundred times before. The intonation they used often told her if she could change another's mind, or if it was a waste of her time. Some would use snark; she could handle snark. Others used the dismissive disdain that would grate on her nerves and alerted her to steer clear from such narrow minded individuals. There were some who would understand what she was trying to accomplish, but they usually weren't ones to change their opinions about games in general. It still helped that they could change their views, it meant she had an understanding parent on her side. But everyone used the dismal, common phrase as though it said all that needed to be said about games.
Yet, the most condescending line that she hated above all else was: "They don't encourage interactions, their brains melt staring at the screen for such long periods of time . . . ." The man said it as though that was a fact of life.
Regina Mills arched her brow and gave them a piercing gaze. "Oh?" Her reply was always the same, leaving both men and women speechless in discomfort and out of their depth; with just a single word and look. She just had that affect on people. Miss Mills would always back up her arguments with plenty of logic; the kind that could crush the casual intruder on a conversation, and put to shame those who came with the assumption of the masses. The couple who had wanted to meet her, were not ready for what came. "They are a good way to release stress. If used correctly, the player can learn more than hand-eye coordination, they can learn about historical figures, time periods even. If science fiction is used correctly, physics and biology become fun . . . and that's not counting the curious kids who go beneath the skin of the game and peek at the code.
"So no, I do not think they are a waste of time." This typical dialogue usually occurred at events she had to go to, to represent her company, not that she actually enjoyed these kind of social events. People, she didn't trust, but machines she could. Machines, no matter what, would forever be accurate and precise; basically coded into being.
She began to leave when the woman took hold of her arm, softly, but of course this irked her further. "You really think it's good for a child to remain indoors?"
"Of course not!" She scoffed back, frowning. "The platform is designed to take their time-zone into account; it not only tracks their time spent in-game, it also pops up an alert to remind them that they either need to sleep, or go outside for air and vitamin d.
"If it's daytime, the game freezes then resumes five minutes later." She finished. With the intention of moving on, she was surprised when the man went to stand before her.
"So is there something specific when it's night time?" He interrupted, frowning a bit.
Regina stared at them, then shook her head. Isn't it obvious? Far too often she thought she had to be the only human with a shred of logic left. "Of course. It shuts the game and the platform won't budge, the same notification comes popping up over and over that it's time for sleep and dreams about what their character does with the unlimited power of a God." She shrugged as they gapped at her. They would never understand how literal her statement was, or how effective too.
"Kids actually like it, because it allows them to show their parents that not everything they do is video games, and therefore will not get grounded for it." She smiled fondly at the memory of the E3 Cons she had gone to, and all the kids who came to her company's hall, eager to meet her. Those occasions, they made everything she had worked for worth it because they shared their experiences with her. Many had also learned not to rebuke their parents when they insist on them taking a break. Just knowing she was helping a generation brought her relief and affirmed her sense of purpose. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must go. Some people won't forgive me if I don't greet them at these events."
It was a lie, but it was effective. They wouldn't try to hold her anymore and she could just mindlessly walk around, waiting for the event to end. The only reason Regina was still mingling was because she had grown accustomed to the heels. She didn't like them, but at least she wasn't suffering from pain any longer. She had grown numb to it, used to it, like many other facts in her life. Oh, how she missed Graham, one of her few friends. He was the one with whom she usually went to such events with. He always managed to gloss over her social inabilities, and make her seem more put together then she actually was.
Until he decided he wanted to take things to the next level, forcefully kissing her and earning himself a slap. Regina wondered, briefly, if there was a chance to keep their friendship. She was an extremely private person, not even her friends truly knew what made her tick, but Graham was at least tolerable to be around. His good looks helped him in that area as well.
"You thought you could lose me, Regina?" She knew the accent, so she turned around, eyes wide. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, she thought with amusement, or rather think about him, both seem to work just fine. He smiled and held his hands up in mock surrender. "Strictly business, I promise. Just like old times."
"A change of heart, really?" She asked him with a soft frown, completely unsure of his intentions. He chuckled, not complaining.
"I've found someone, and I don't want to pry. Besides, I do enjoy the free food at these things." Regina could only roll her eyes and shake her head. He would never change.
"Excuse me, Miss Mills —"
"Is otherwise engaged," he answers for her in his usual courteous, yet cutting manner. Graham really knew when people got on her nerves and made himself responsible for keeping them at bay, and allowing her image to remain impeccable. "I suggest you both do the same with each other, and leave us to the event."
This new couple left as quickly as they came, thanks to Graham. Regina smiled privately to herself, glad to have him there.
It was a charity fundraiser focused on helping children, which was why Regina was involved, and she was in it not just for the children but to ensure the validity of said charity. She had brought down multiple organizations for not fulfilling their promises and she made sure that the funds always went somewhere safe. She had Kathryn to thank for that; she was the manager of all her accounts and also one of her few friends in the world.
The blonde had been the one to tell Regina that this was a real charity. So she enjoyed herself, knowing her friend gained nothing by stabbing her in the back. Neither had use for money, Kathryn knew how to make more — only knew how to make more and there were some things that couldn't be bought. Their friendship was one of those few, solid things where money never entered the equation.
They had both suffered on their parents behalf, but that was something Regina had yet to face completely. Those scars weren't ones time had closed, she was just already so used to the throbbing in her metaphorical heart that it was as constant as her literal, beating one.
"Welcome!" Regina froze at the sound of that voice, the one that still haunted her nightmares.
As always, there was someone who could tear the worst scar open and make her bleed. Her heart sped up, her lungs faltered, her stomach turned — she was glad she hadn't eaten anything as of yet, her social awkwardness leaving her without much of an appetite . . . she never thought something good could come from it but then . . . she never thought her path would cross with that man again.
"Regina!" Graham's concern got a half smile from her but the worry was evident on her face. Apparently he had been calling her name for a good five minutes. Thankfully he wasn't being loud about it. "By the Moon woman, you scared me for a moment there!"
The swear, or alleged swear, got her mind working and her chuckle was enough to make him sigh in relief. But as always, her brain was quick to catch up and make its demand. Its love for computers (and games) made the commands easy to understand: run, flee, escape — it was then that she realized her knees were jelly, her legs uncooperative and her feet, itching to bolt. She turned to face her friend and the way his expression morphed back to worry told her that he knew her well enough to see how upset she was. It also told her that he didn't know her as well as he thought, because she was beyond upset.
"Graham, let's go."
"Are you sure?" He asked with concern; she would usually greet the host, stay for dinner . . . the whole social etiquette deal.
"Yes." Fortunately he just shrugged.
"You owe me a meal then," he said with a smile.
"Only if we don't talk to him." Her eyes narrowed at the now-empty podium, her hiss low enough for him to barely catch. But what surprised him was the venom and pure hatred; and he realized he had mistaken her dislike for hate. Graham concluded that he didn't know her as well as he had thought. "Take me away, now please."
That sprung him into motion. Her voice was void of anything but desperation and that was something he could relate to: the need to simply vanish. He soon realized that she couldn't walk as usual and that continued to spike his concern. She was always so composed . . . what kind of history did she have with —
"Regina!" The man of the hour.
"Gather that anger and hatred and use it to show him he doesn't affect you." Graham whispered softly into her ear as he let her go. He was proud when she turned around, her posture that of a Queen.
His words spurred all of her feelings into showing the offending man her displeasure. She remembered what therapists suggest: shouting at the picture of the one who had harmed her. Of course the suggestion was to do it at the picture, but she never thought she would get the chance of doing it face to face. It wasn't like she was going to shout or speak ill of him; her mother would likely kill her afterwards. But her displeasure was spiraling into hatred and she could only hold so much of that back. At least one of the things she learned from her mother would be given good use. All of this twisted sense of justice that I cannot even have now that I could take it. She wouldn't. Her few friends were precious, she couldn't lose them. It was true, her love for them made her weak but it was also the one thing that provided support and gave her courage.
"I must say, you look splendid my dear." His compliment — or was it a statement? — fell on deaf ears. Yet he simply began humming in approval, looking her up and down. "Tell me, how has life been treating you?"
"Leopold, how tragic," she began; good thing everyone else was otherwise occupied. "I was expecting a real charity. I'll just withdraw my part."
He frowned. "Surely our past should make you believe in me." He knew how everyone would stop helping him if she left; she could ruin entire organizations without so much as a wave of hand. "What's more, my offer —"
"Can go up your ass and share residence with your head," she hissed, making him stop, clearly taken aback.
"What kind of gratitude is this?" He asked softly, his hurt so clear it made her livid. "After I've helped you become the woman you are now, is this how you thank me?"
She scoffed at his words, disgusted by the fact that yes, in a way, he had helped her become the woman she was. She frowned as this thought made itself known; she couldn't control the way her face made a snarl. Thankfully, they were still speaking in relative privacy.
"I am at this point in my life thanks to my own sweat and blood." She snapped back, eyes narrowing. "All this, I did to escape you and my mother. I'm glad I managed to get myself an all-paid scholarship to Seattle's Institute of Technology. When they learned my mother wouldn't support me if I left the state, they included room, board and food. So you get no credit for my success.
"And I'll never take your offer." She said with another scoff and turned away, taking Graham's offered arm.
She managed to keep focused and controlled as she made her exit. Regina expected Leopold to answer or hold her back; he had been reaching for her arm but someone appeared and took his attention. She was grateful but still too weak to move as fast as she would have wanted.
"Father," Regina winced. The voice was distinctly female and she could tell, younger. "I cannot find Emma."
"Where's Emma!?" Leopold yelled into a phone a few moments later, talking to one of his security guards no doubt. Clearly, that was an urgent matter.
Regina shook her head. If she were Emma, she would be running too.
Emma was running alright — she was fleeing from the police.
"Come on Emma!" Neal pressed her, but all he managed was to get her to frown and stop. "What are you doing?! August can only buy us so much time!"
His breath was taken from him as their loot was thrown and nailed him in the gut. "Then you carry the damn watches!" She called back as she resumed her running pace. "What's wrong slowpoke?!"
"Emma!" He whined.
"August can only buy us so much time, right!?" He laughed at that.
She found her yellow bug stationed right where it needed to be, hijacked it and turned it on as she waited for Neal to catch up. As soon as he was inside the backseat — he had to dive-in in order to maximize time, she sped off; the motion of the car was enough to pull and push his door close. Things work out as followed; as soon as they caught up with August, who had been playing the distraction with his classic tale of how his dog had gotten lost and his spasticity leg pain prevented him from looking on his own, was on the street where the passenger door opened. He didn't have sclerosis, brain or spinal injury, but his acting skills had always been top notch. Why he bothered with petty thefts and cons, they didn't know and didn't care.
Not even bothering to signal him, Emma just opened the door; in seconds, he was settled and they were off before the officers had any idea of what had happened to him. Soon, they were in a blind spot with no cameras and ditched the bug. Going to Neal's UK mini cooper, which was parked right there, they finally took off at a more relaxed pace.
"Do you think they'll find Pongo?" She asked, feeling terrible for using the dalmatian in such fashion.
"Yeah . . . ."
"No." August's statement earned him a punch on the shoulder, courtesy of an angry blonde. "I mean, he'll find a new owner!"
"With the way you treat him, hell yeah," she snapped back, looking wounded. "One of these days he won't agree to these, and you'll have to learn how to deal."
"He loves me too much."
"If you were smart, you would listen to Emma."
"I'm the oldest one here!"
"That means you're being stupid for not doing as she says." She stuck her tongue out at the blue-eyed man. "Remember all the shit my dad did to me?"
"You love your dad!" The other countered, frowning. "Don't give me that bullshit."
"He left me —"
"He lost you, at the mall, after you ran away, because your mother died." Emma deadpanned. "And you chose to do it five months after she passed away, while you were both here in the US, just because you knew you'd be placed in foster care."
Her biting tone made him swallow thickly; she had left his mouth dry with the accusations.
"Did you want your papa's attention so much that you expected him to stay behind? He was deported because he wouldn't stop asking for you from kids at the park and mothers got worried!" She huffed, took a deep calming breath before kicking the driver's seat.
"Watch it with my leather —" He bit his tongue once their eyes met through the rear-view mirror.
"Well, how about you Emma?" August asked in good nature, smiling. "Really, being Leopold's child —" a punch to one of the seats in the back made both men flinch. They had no idea how or why their blonde friend could have such a murderous aura, all they knew was that it only came when she was asked about her childhood. "Anyway, I believe your Love Bug should be found and given back to you by morning."
The silence was tense as Emma sulked in the back. Left to her stewing thoughts, she tried to focus on calming her breath. Payback's a bitch, she thought to herself, and karma doubly so. Now my father can feel all the pain I felt in those abusive houses. Taking a deep breath, her thoughts went to the latest releases by Mills' Wind-Powered platform: INFINITε-LIFε 3, RIFT 3 (in which she learned that pie, π, was a lie), Creed of Assassins 7, Mass Relay 4 and Age of Dragons: Era of the Inquisition.
Those, and the classics that helped form a generation and which she still played from time to time: WarArt (Wart) and StarArt (Start) and, of course, the one game they had released just because they wanted to provide gamers with something that wasn't strategy-based, and because Regina Mills believed in allowing freedom of creativity and her core crew came up with it: DeVil. And the only reason why she was willing to indulge herself, now that she could, on WoW.
Just the thought of the world's largest MMORPG brought a smile to her face. Wart off, World! was a fan favorite, a curse her classmates often used after a rather abusive day at their confined public institution. Although the private school's term wasn't that bad, even if the kids were snobs with the way they said it, it was offensive. She still had her ties with 'the commoners', as her father used in a (not really) loving way until her senior year. Warting on, World wasn't that witty, but it made her mood improve at the thought of how the 'cool kids' thought they were so rad when clearly, they were not.
Emma sighed, remembering how her only meaningful relationship back then was destroyed. Because there was no way she couldn't relate WoW and Lily. They just knew each other so well, that they could spot the other in a sea of strangers, while wearing different skins and with names that often left the other wondering about their thought process. It was funny, to know each other in such fashion; it also happened when they were playing against each other in Legends UnLeashed. Fans called it LoL, just for the lols, since they thought the real name was 'Legends on Leash', no matter the publicity. It also made the sting of Lily's betrayal feel like a stab to the back; she couldn't reach and dislodge it, making the memory an unpleasant one.
What had ruined their friendship? Emma had a juvie record thanks to Lily, who had the influence to get her out of the bad situation, but had left the blonde to eat dirt. Later, when she had found a decent family, she had been framed for stealing their money when it had been Lily. A girl who ran away in a hissy fit and often found her, Emma, in what appeared to be an effort of ruining her life.
The last straw was finding out that the Dragon Lady, the CEO and creator of Games to Study, the first magazine dedicated to publishing game-oriented articles, from the design to the plots to the setting and even, the main characters, was Lily's mom. Of course, their main focus had been Mills' WP, seeing as both had been launched on the same date. Its aim was some great, in-depth strategies for both, Wart and Start, and the origins behind the games. It was funny, because Maleficent actually handled the fashion industry with an iron fist.
Fortunately, RUNAWAY hadn't been damaged by it. What had been, was their friendship. Just remembering when the one and only Maleficent appeared before them in the dingy coffee shop where they had been enjoying some food (with an escape route already planned) in a grey suit with a black shirt and a grey fedora hat.
All the woman had done, was sigh and request her daughter not to play hooky and other words that Emma hadn't bothered listening to because, well . . . that was the proverbial nail on the proverbial coffin; she was still waiting for the day it would be buried.
All the memories were now taking a wrong turn, so with a shake of her head, Emma tried to change her mentality to a more wonderful memory. Sadly, just when she thought her mood couldn't get worse, her phone rang. For some reason the two idiots up front, Dumb and Dumber, jumped. She smirked. She would have thought they had gotten used to the shrill screams that was her set ringtone for the one person she despised and hated the most: her father. She loved the agony it caused others, as no one liked the yelling of a woman who was about to be murdered in her shower. Alfred Hitchcock was a genius and Psycho, his masterpiece.
"One pissed off daughter, please hold while she regains control, else you might get cursed." She began as a way of greeting. "If you do choose not to wait as she regains control, please bear in mind that she is not to be made responsible for her words.
"Guys, Beast and the Harlot please."
The boys laughed as they took joy singing the song, just as Emma placed her phone near the speakers. There were times in which she entirely forgot about such calls, others in which she hung up when she realized the man likely had her on mute, not out of his own choice but because his guards did that to protect them both.
Her thoughts went back to Lily. Why would she runaway? Not even the girl herself knew, she had just wanted to get away. But it really was Emma's life that she had been playing with. Lily had a mother while she had never had anyone, just the knowledge that her mother died during birth at sixteen and after she met Leopold, she was sure the man had been with her mother just because she had been young. The tests never lied, and her mother had been sure to take them while she had still been in the womb. What was worse, was that every time she had to go to the hospital they took samples in order to ensure she was still Emma Swan and related to that man. No, Emma wasn't accident prone, she just knew how to get in trouble and it always ended with blood being spilled.
Still, the only reason he had sought her out was because his first born had been torn apart when her mother, Eva, Leopold's lawfully wedded wife, had died. Emma had been sixteen then. Yet Mary Margaret had been so nice, so warm, that she was more like a mother than anyone in that disgraceful system. It was annoying that she was just a year older, but she had made her way into Emma's heart and now she couldn't imagine her life without her.
Picking up the phone, she tried to ease her guilt at having to put her protective older sister through Avenged Sevenfold. The girl would either be listening or be the one expected to answer. But if it had been that she would have just called her name or called her directly. Emma was ashamed that she acted like a puppy when it came to Mary Margaret, but hurting the dark-haired female was worse than hurting herself. Her heart cringed at the thought.
"Ye-llow?" She said in way of greeting, sounding wary, in case it was Leopold.
"Emma . . . ." The relief was palpable in her sister's voice, and she smiled to herself, then scowled for how weak she was, then smiled again because it felt good to be able to simply smile at the sound of the other's voice. "I was worried when you didn't show up! Dinner is about to begin, do you think you can make it?"
For you, yes. "You know I hate those social events!" She griped; women glared with envy, men eyed her like a chunk of meat on display and there was never anyone interesting. "Besides, I don't have any fancy dress to wear!"
"I got you a suit," the tentative words made her grin. The man who helped her be conceived would go ballistic, even if the promised garment was just a ploy to not get her in trouble. She motioned to Neal, who rolled his eyes and nodded his understanding; they would leave her at the charity. "And you know you like the food!"
"Fine," she laughed, her eyes twinkling.
"Thank you Emma! Please be quick, I'll leave the suit with David —"
"If you're trying to —"
"No!" The quick response and the obvious panic actually calmed her a bit. "You have enough bad influences with Neal and August, I don't need you going around with — what is it that you like to call him? Oh right, spoiled brat with a superiority complex and a penchant for trouble because his father will get him off the hook. Ugh. That's what you have Neal for, and two of him won't make things better."
"Math says two negatives make a positive," she teased, enjoying the huffing sound.
"You can't multiply those two, only add them," her sister countered and she laughed, because it had been well played. "And don't get me started with Jack; I know you like her and all but, please steer clear from her."
It was said seriously, but not the way Emma took it to be. Blushing, she groaned; why she liked the tomboy, was beyond her.
"I'm close, so I'll be seeing y —"
"Emma, dad —" she cringed at the word "— still needs to know that you'll 'do as he says'."
Mary Margaret disconnected her line and soon, she knew her father's phone would be unmuted. It didn't take long for his voice to come through; thankfully, it just made her tired, not angry.
"And you'll do as I say, are we clear?!" He practically demanded from her.
"Yeah . . . you know that won't stick, and I won't bother making it stick. I really don't know what got your panties in a twist," she added, voice sounding bored, "but I won't let you take it out on me.
"I have arrived, and I'll be going inside in a few minutes. But, I need this to be clear, I'm not doing it for you."
With that, she hung up.
"Honestly, if you two weren't sisters I would be worried thinking you'd rather be with her than me." Neal said as he slowed down near the stairs with a frown in place.
"What am I, a piece of wood?" August asked with a frown.
"Just a puppet," the other replied with a grin, laughing when the oldest one among them huffed. "Meaning an expensive piece of wood."
"I don't belong to you Neal, or your father," she snapped back, glaring at him and opening the door to step out, even if the car hadn't come to a complete stop. "Our debt . . . that was settled long ago. These 'so called' jobs are done for my own benefit, which is why I get my own share."
He had stopped forcefully, just to receive a slammed door to his precious mini. Ignoring him completely, she moved on, going up the stairs in a sulk. She knew perfectly well who the woman standing there was. A woman who had saved her with Wart and Start, and DeVil game had been such an inspiration . . . . Never, in a million years, would she have thought she would see the one and only, Regina Mills.
She passed by her, not thinking. However, as she was about to continue up her brain caught up with her, making her body freeze. She balanced on the edge of the step, but thanks to gravity her body was pulled back. With a hand on the rail (she always walked near them just in case she had to make a quick exit and using rails as ramps meant quicker escapes) her body leaned back enough to confirm with her own eyes that yes, it was, in fact, Regina Mills, the reason for her sanity to still remain.
Placing her errant foot back on the ground to the step it had been on before, she immediately turned around towards her friend's car. Neal was already outside, intentions evident as he eyed the older woman, obviously not seeing what Emma was seeing, just with an ingrained need towards ripping the woman apart.
Since their fragile relation was reaching a point in which it could easily snap, and they both knew it, she could take advantage. Neal was over-protected by his father, R. S. Gold, who was the CEO of Peter Pan trademark, another gaming industry built by Malcolm Gold who was owner in name and the face of the company. When Robert had taken over, he made and introduced the YBox, since his father had made the card games and figurines on which he had built his empire.
Now, YBox and Wind-Powered were rivals, especially now that Regina was taking on the console approach and things were tense between both parties. She knew Neal would turn hostile and she could tell the woman wasn't in the right state to do anything. Emma met his eyes in a cold glare. No matter what he thought, that they were fated to be each others' true love or whatever other nonsense, she had the right to see where life took her. She didn't care for his thoughts, but she would use the knowledge, which was why she was facing him. Extending her arm, Emma let him know he would do best by going on his way, and sighed in quiet relief when he, scowling, went back to his car and did as told.
Maybe befriending James would do her good, even if it would mean a higher chance of getting in trouble with the law. The only record she had was one act of vandalism — the others Maleficent had helped her by clearing — and it was for burning the word BASTARD on the front lawn to greet Leopold when he went to get his newspaper. Mary Margaret had been at a party with Ruby and Belle, while Emma had been grounded. Because she wouldn't agree to having her name changed to Odette. Yeah, James would be a good friend and David was really amazing.
He was four years older, but treated her with such familiarity that she felt accepted. He was Mary Margaret's Prince Charming, often treating Emma like their daughter even though she wasn't that much younger. Even rebukes like "you're not my mother!" often died on her throat because, well, that was a wish she had, even if it grated on her nerves.