A/N: I wrote a little bit a few months ago as a response to a prompt on tumblr for a Dragon Queen reunion fic, then forgot about it, then reopened the document by accident and felt compelled to continue it. As such, unsure of what the length will be like. Definitely not as angsty as Moments, I promise! Your feedback would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!
Regina stopped dead in the middle of the street at the sight of her. Impossible. Unthinkable. After all she'd been through, all the people she'd lost without the time even to mourn them, all the people who had died at her own hand—this was the one that should drive her mad?
Maleficent stopped, too, as though she had sensed Regina's eyes upon her. The apparition turned to look at Regina, tilted her head, and quirked one eyebrow.
"No," said Regina firmly. "No. You're dead. You're gone."
Maleficent's severe expression broke into one of near-gentle amusement. "Only in your dreams, darling."
Regina approached cautiously. She faintly realized she was trembling. "This isn't possible."
"Isn't it? Tell me, do you know absolutely everything about those dark curses you wield so freely?"
"Do you?" Regina sneered.
"A fair bit more than you, I imagine," Maleficent replied pleasantly. "I do study them, after all."
Regina realized for the first time that Maleficent hadn't precisely emerged from the library's catacombs unscathed. Her dress—that beautiful purple dress she favoured so, and the one she'd been wearing when the Curse had taken hold—was in ribbons, and did little to disguise the fearsome cuts and scrapes covering her body. Upon closer inspection, it looked as though Maleficent were made up of thousands or even millions of tiny pieces of herself.
"It's frightfully rude to stare," said Maleficent, her tone positively heavy with mockery.
Regina's eyes darted back up to Maleficent's face, and she struggled to say something without stammering. "I'll get you some proper clothes," she managed after a moment of awkward floundering. "Come with me. If you like."
Despite her ragged appearance, Maleficent exuded grace and unnerving calm. Whilst Regina rummaged through her closet for the things that were not custom-tailored to fit her slight build, Maleficent stalked deliberately about her bedroom, turning an investigative eye upon everything she saw. Regina felt as she handed Maleficent a dress and jacket (the thought of Maleficent in pajama pants was too ludicrous to entertain for very long) that she was back in the Enchanted Forest, a young and frightened queen under the piercing gaze of the strange, cold fairy woman who was quickly proving herself to be the only person not actively trying to destroy her.
Regina wondered whether that still held true.
"Curious garments in this new world of yours," Maleficent remarked quietly. "Uninteresting decorations in your abode. It all lacks a bit in dramatic flair, really."
Maleficent didn't mean it as an insult, only a tactless observation, but Regina's brow furrowed subtly, nonetheless. It had taken her a time to adjust to a person who spoke so candidly with no intention to offend, and after so long without this curious means of communication, Regina had learned the ways of the vast majority of people: passive-aggressive and snide.
"I like my clothes. And my house," she replied simply. And she realized as she said it that she meant it. The dramatic flair of her queen's wardrobe and castle quarters had most often been a means of covering up the aching hollowness she felt in her heart. Better to be dazzling and overwhelming than weak and floundering.
"Fair enough."
One of the best things about Maleficent, Regina suddenly remembered with a strange jolt, was that Regina seldom felt the need to justify herself in Maleficent's presence. Her actions, certainly, from time to time, but never the minutiae which made her feel like her true, hidden self. Never her clothes or her house.
-8—
Watching Maleficent adjust to the modern world was in some ways more amusing than the others Regina had witnessed. With each new discovery, Maleficent became rigid and studious, eyes wide, motions quick and jerky. Though Regina knew every sign of anxiety that any person could exhibit, she had never in her life seen Maleficent look even the slightest bit nervous until she was escorted into the passenger seat of Regina's car.
The actual entrance was unremarkable—still that wide-eyed search for information—but when the engine roared to life and they began to back out of the driveway, Regina caught sight of Maleficent's hand upon the door handle. Her fingers were long and elegant, despite some residual cuts and scratches, and her knuckles were white.
Regina felt oddly giddy at the notion of catching Maleficent feeling uncertain, and she could not resist the opportunity to gloat. "Everything all right, dear?" she wondered lightly.
Maleficent glanced about, noted another car that passed them by, then settled her attention upon nothing in particular. "If it's all the same," she replied coolly, "I'd prefer to avoid a fiery explosion. I've had my fill of late."
Regina bit the inside of her mouth. "Does it occur to you that I, a lowly mortal, would also prefer to avoid a fiery explosion?"
Maleficent spared Regina a passing glance, peering down her nose as if observing an insect. "Well," she said as she turned her gaze back to the window, "you have from time to time played a bit fast and loose with your existence, Regina. You'll forgive me if I fail to keep up with whether you'd like to live or die today."
In the mayor's office, Maleficent was all angles and rapid movements again. She touched everything even moderately technologically advanced with her fingertips—the telephone, all the components of the computer, the lamp on the desk and the ones on the wall, and finally, she became somewhat fixated upon the smoke detector on the ceiling.
"Shall I lend you a ladder?" Regina asked her after she'd finished the page she was reading.
Maleficent awarded her no reaction. "I can infer the functions of your other appliances."
"That's a smoke detector," Regina said, then added, flatly, "It detects smoke."
This, unfortunately, did garner a reaction, though not at all what Regina had hoped for. Maleficent turned to her with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "In case of a fire?"
"Don't you dare."
-8—
It was only when they entered Granny's diner that Regina realized, not unlike a sudden and violent punch to the gut, that she might also have cause to feel nervous.
There sat Henry accompanied, collective thorn in her side that they were, by the entire Charming clan: Snow, Emma, and Prince Charming, himself. Emma and Henry saw her come in, which caused Snow to turn around, and then, after a moment's laboured pause, Charming. Emma and Henry had the good grace to wave hello, though whether Emma was attempting to befriend Regina or treating her as the scourge of the earth this particular week remained ever a mystery.
Regina returned neither the confused smiles nor the wave, and she pointedly avoided meeting the piercing gaze she could feel radiating from Maleficent as they took a seat as far away from the Happy Family as possible.
"Who's the newcomer?" Mrs. Lucas wondered as she passed by to bus the table next to them.
"Maleficent," the possessor of the name responded, though Mrs. Lucas was clearly asking Regina.
The old woman's expression flashed briefly in recognition, fear, and finally, the stubborn decision to hide her initial reactions. She nodded curtly and made to leave.
"I beg your pardon," said Maleficent, "but it is customary to offer one's own name when one has just learned the name of a stranger."
Mrs. Lucas turned around sharply, inhaled, hesitated, then said simply, "Lucas. But everyone calls me Granny." She turned again and disappeared (quickly, but not quite quickly enough to be conspicuous) into the back room.
"Granny's Diner. I see. Charming," Maleficent remarked. "Good to see you making friends," she continued wryly, and inclined her head in the direction of the Charming table.
Regina's lip curled, an old mannerism she'd mostly learned to control in this world.
"I take it the blonde is the prophesied Saviour. Who is the little boy?"
Regina must have heard a thousand things more painful than that question, yet it struck her heart with such a mighty blow, it could have doubled her over. Not so little anymore, old friend, she thought sadly. "My son," she replied simply.
Maleficent glanced in Henry's direction, then back to Regina. She was one of two people in this world and all those besides who knew Regina wasn't capable of conceiving a child of her own. (And if Regina had her way, Rumple wouldn't have ever needed to know such a thing.) The realization had been a joyous one at the time when it had come, for she was married to King Leopold and would sooner die than carry his child. Nevertheless, a small, quiet corner of her broken heart had mourned the loss of a future that had never been hers to keep.
As a child and into her mid-teens, she'd never wanted children. She feared she would become her mother, and she did not wish to put any child through the torment she experienced daily. But meeting Daniel had changed all of that. She'd seen in his eyes all the goodness she longed to see in her own. She'd seen hope for the goodness of the human race. And she'd known with such certainty that he would be an exceptionally good father that she felt perhaps it was also possible for her to be an exceptionally good mother.
After this occurred to her, Regina realized how very desperately she wanted to have children of her own someday. She'd pictured herself and Daniel raising at least two or three, perhaps even more. She'd imagined a thousand different faces; her eyes, his nose, his ears, her hair...
Then, one day, when she soaked her body in scalding hot water and attempted to scrub Leopold's touch from her skin, Regina dared to count the time she had been in the castle. At that time she was still a teenager and preferred not to dwell upon what she'd viewed as the inevitable certainty of procreation, but did one not generally become pregnant when taxed with marital duties for such a long time?
When she'd shared the news with Maleficent, she'd been nearly beside herself with elation. She'd wanted to celebrate, have a glass of wine. She'd actually grabbed Maleficent's hands and forced her into a dance. Then, later, after the wine had been consumed and another kind of dance had been enjoyed, she'd wept bitterly into one of Maleficent's pillows for a life she would never know.
"I expect my next question is obvious, Regina," said Maleficent, as gently as she ever said anything, and of course, she was painfully correct. Regina could hear it just as clearly as if she'd spoken it aloud.
If he is your son, why is he sitting with them?