A/N: This is my first attempt at Swan Queen so please be gentle! I own nothing and I have no beta, so I apologise for any mistakes.
For my girls, you know who you are.
Chapter One: She Is The Sunlight
Self hatred is a detrimental fate. Imagine someone in your life who is mean, who has hurt you, betrayed you in the worst of ways. Now imagine that person is inside your head, commenting on something every time you make a mistake, look in the mirror, have an opinion.
And while the sun is ensuring that it's a beautifully bright day in New York City, Regina Mills can't seem to find that same brightness within herself. There is no sun rising over her life as the Manhattan skyline experiences every morning, no golden light or warmth painting her curves like the skyscrapers. The day is in full swing for most people. From high above the city streets, she can hear the honking of busy cars, distant sirens tending to the emergencies that the morning has to offer, and of course the soft, muffled chatter of the collective people walking on the sidewalk; regular people going about their lives.
So why is she standing alone in her bathroom? Staring at herself in the reflective glass of the mirror, nitpicking at every little thing that could be different, that could be better. It's another one of those days when she wishes she could be anyone but herself.
It's all her mother's fault, as per usual. Cora Mills opens her mouth and the insults slip out like a blade on ice, Regina's "deplorable" life choices ridiculed time and time again. Not even just her choices, apparently the things that she can't control as well. Her mother likes to focus on them, likes to make them an issue that requires an opinion, her opinion specifically; if it's not regarding her physical appearance, it's the fact that she's single. If it's not about her work ethic, it's about the career path she chose.
She should not be doing this, this is exactly what her mother wants. She should not be standing in a towel, still damp from her shower, scorning herself. This has nothing to do with her personality or how she perceives herself as a person, this hatred is rooted from deep within her organs, in the womb that has been working against her every step of the way of a journey she is so desperate to take.
….
"Please," she whispered desperately to herself, a silent prayer to a higher being that she wasn't sure existed, but she was pleading to anyone or anything that would listen. Her bedroom was dimly lit and she was sitting perched at the end of her bed, waiting impatiently for the abhorrent ringing of her cell phone's timer.
She had decided that this would be her last attempt. If this didn't play out, then she would have to find an alternative route to garner what she wished for more than anything in the world. And these minutes felt like hours. The anxiety in her gut was driving her mad, so she drew her pyjama clad legs up to her chest and dropped her forehead to her knees, concentrating on her breathing.
In and out, inflating and deflating her chest, she tried to focus on other things. And then her phone vibrated and started its melodic reminder. She sighed heavily on her way into the brighter light of the bathroom and picked up the stick on the counter.
She shouldn't have been surprised. She should have been used that single pink line by then. The line that crushed her hope in a split second for the fourth time this year. So instead of crying like she usually did, she tossed the pregnancy test into the trash along with her crumbled hope and spent the rest of her evening looking into ways to get what she wanted. A family.
….
Conception is out of the question, three doctors have attested to that. And each time the fact was muttered from their lips, a part of her heart broke and fizzled away. Infertility feels hopeless. Each fertility treatment, every needle, every effort squashed and destroyed by a negative test.
Regina was raised to be in control, taking life by the horns and getting what she wants even if there are obstacles in the way, but infertility has shaken everything and left the pieces to fall wherever the slump to the floor. Infertility feels out of control and it has thrown every plan off course. She could plot and manage and diagram but how do you arrange something that you have absolutely no say in?
That's why she is standing in front of her mirror this way, it all begins to make sense. As she stares at her body, from the indented scar on her upper lip to the soft curves of her hips, she realises that infertility feels like you're broken. Her body is failing her, like it has forgotten how to work properly, forgotten it's purpose.
Although, today could be the day that her life changes.
Adoption had never popped up on her radar. Sure, she knew it existed and that it was an option, but she had never once considered it for herself. To be perfectly honest, she may have disregarded it completely because she is single, and most of the things she had heard about single woman trying to adopt were negative. Then again, most of her opinions came from areas that were lacking in education and were influenced by the odd adoption focussed hallmark movie - you know, the ones they show at the earliest of earliest hours of the morning that are supposed to be "feel good" but you always end up crying. Yeah, those.
It was Archie who suggested adoption actually, a fellow psychologist that she works with. He noticed something was bothering her almost instantly after her second failed IVF treatment, but when your place of employment is filled with therapists, it's impossible to hide anything.
Archie Hopper is one of the good ones, a gentle soul, very little condescension in his voice. That day she learned first hand why he is the most sought doctor by all the students. After a stressful morning of student issues ranging from worrying about grades to homesickness to some severe cases of depression, Archie approached her during their lunch hour on campus and her secrets and worries spilled out far too easily.
Regina still felt conflicted about the adoption process most of the time, even after getting the ball rolling, and she still does. Each stage ended up feeling more and more taxing. The initial check was surprising; she was so shocked to be approved as an ideal adoptive parent, let alone be moved onto the next processes. And now, after several finance checks and a home visit to assess every square inch of her life it seems, she is merely hours from meeting with a birth mother who is looking for the perfect home for her baby.
When the phone rings and interrupts the long moment of reflection, she knows it's Mary Margaret, the disgustingly perky social worker that has been assigned to her case. They've met twice before, an initial interview and then a more in depth session in order to learn about Regina's needs, about what she is expecting at the end of all of the madness. She always calls in the morning before an appointment, just to make sure everything is a go.
"Hello," Regina murmurs into her phone, the first word she has uttered all day.
"Good morning, Regina! Only calling to confirm your meeting today?" Mary Margaret chirps brightly.
"Of course," Regina says, sitting comfortably on the edge of her perfectly made bed.
"Perfect. Emma is meeting you this afternoon, she seems very eager to get the process started as quickly as possible, if you're a good fit, of course."
"Emma, right." Regina reminds herself, reality setting as firmly as the glint of hope in her eye.
"Emma Swan," Mary Margaret tells her, "Young, around your age, sweet as can be. She wants to make sure her baby gets the life they deserve. You saw her file."
"You're right, I did," Regina mutters. Her breath shakes the words slightly, her nerves showing unexpectedly, and Mary Margaret clearly picks up on it.
"Don't be scared. This is going to be a good match, I can feel it," she eases down the phone, an almost failed effort at comfort, but Regina thanks her all the while. Regina has so many doubts. "Talk to me," Mary Margaret demands softly.
"What if she hates me? I didn't have a file that she could read beforehand. What if I'm nothing like what she's expecting?" Regina sighs breathily, the first of many fears leaving her lips, only to be followed by a machine gun of others, "What if she meets me and thinks I'm awful? What if it doesn't work? What if-"
"Regina," Mary Margaret stops her immediately, not condescendingly, she wouldn't dare. "I won't lie to you, it doesn't always work out. You understand the process all too well, it's just like finding a therapist, you have to find the right fit. Although, saying that, Emma had a good vibe, I am really confident about this."
"Yeah?" Regina asks, catching her bottom lip in her teeth.
"Yes. Now get dressed and get to know her. She's going to be just as nervous as you, I promise."
Emma's late. Or she's changed her mind. So Regina's stomach is still tangled in a perpetual state of worry as sits back down after ordering her second cup of coffee. Although as soon as the request fell from her lips, she has been wondering if Emma will be upset that she's drinking coffee; she's pregnant, she can't have a cup. Can she?
Regina has tried for so long to be pregnant herself, but truly knows very little about actual pregnancy, not that it should be a surprise - she has focussed every ounce of herself to conception alone since that is where the challenge originates. Regina makes a mental note to do some research on everything once she's home, not that she is expecting Emma to choose her. This could all crumble into a mess of nothing again.
Every time someone with blonde hair walks passed the window or opens the door the shop, Regina's heart stops and shoots to her throat. She calms, only after realising they aren't Emma.
Her nerves haven't settled one bit.
She changed at least three times before she left. What exactly is considered appropriate attire for this kind of situation? Oh God, why on earth did she pick jeans? Lord, kill her now. But then again, a formal, business-y pant suit would have scared someone away. Or maybe that would have been more fitting? At least her hair looks good, a soft curl that she's always complimented on. But God, why did she wear these stupid jeans?
"Regina Mills?"
The voice is startling. Regina twitching after the fright soars through and she stands immediately.
"That's me."
In front of her is a slim looking blonde, she looks just like the small pixelated picture that Mary Margaret had sent her with all the information. Regina clumsily sticks out her hand to the body in front of her, "Emma?" The blonde takes her hand carefully and shakes politely, nodding her head to confirm her identity, "How did you know it was me?" Regina asks curiously, indicating to the seat across from her. Emma sits after slinging off her huge shoulder bag and sliding a large black folder, probably a port folio of some kind, between the chair and the wall.
"Mary Margaret said I should be looking for a gorgeous brunette who looks as equally nervous as I feel," Emma jokes, smiling shyly trying to ease the discomforting nerves they are bouncing back and forth.
That's definitely something Mary Margaret would say, but Regina cringes inwardly, asking, "Was it that obvious?"
"Nah," Emma brushes off, "Sure you were tapping your foot and fiddling with your fingers, but you are also the only gorgeous brunette in here, so..."
Chuckling softly through her nose and a soft pinkish blush, Regina smiles appreciatively. This is all off to a good start, they are bantering like friends, friendly is good.
"Are you thirsty? Or hungry?" Regina asks, an obvious offer of a treat.
"You know, I could murder a bear claw and a root beer right now," Emma smiles gratefully, especially when Regina shakes her head when she reaches for her wallet. Emma has come out of her way to meet her, the least Regina can do is get the girl a pastry. "Thank you," Emma offers kindly.
While Regina is ordering at the counter, she keeps turning back to Emma. There's something swirling in her gut. Mary Margaret warned her about this; like pins and needles in your stomach. but it's a conflicting feeling; negative and positive thoughts colliding with each other.
Meeting a birth mother is another hurdle to jump in the adoption process, but it's much, much higher. As she looks at Emma from the counter of a coffee shop, she realises she hasn't a single clue how to act. All she knows for certain is that she wants to please and like this person - a complete stranger and officially the most important person in her life.
Emma Swan is holding her parental destiny in the hands that are currently scribbling into a sketchbook, or.. Well, more accurately, she is holding Regina's parental destiny in her uterus and that's utterly terrifying.
Emma may be sitting there, worrying about her future, about where she is going in life, thinking that she is powerless when, in fact, she has all the power.
And then there's the other angle. Emma needs Regina and Regina needs Emma - it's like an unspoken conspiracy. She feels it. Mary Margaret mentioned a fuzzy feeling in your gut. You just know. And Regina truly feels as if her luck is about to turn.
"What can I get you?" An elderly woman asks from behind the counter, her edgier looking barista with the most outstanding red streaks in her hair standing not too far away.
"Root beer and a bear claw, please" Regina smiles as her chest deflates with some of her lingering doubt being exhaled along the way.
From here on out, it's all in Regina's hands. Every decision she makes from this point can impact everything. Their initial meeting, albeit short and sweet, has been successful. But it's what Regina was worrying about the most; the introduction, the handshake. She survived that and things are looking up.
This morning, Regina felt like the sun always missed her as it brightened the lives of everyone around her, but maybe, just maybe, she will find her own source of sunlight in the form of a woman who may give her the gift of a lifetime.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review if you can.
Twitter: MayorMillsSQ