IV
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion. In her kitchen, Regina stiffens.
This isn't right. I haven't changed anything today.
Regina puts down her cookbook, going to the door and looking out through the opaque glass, frowning at the lack of person. Opening the door, Regina looks around, the sky still bright enough despite the setting sun for her to see without the aid of the streetlights. Nothing. Frown deepening, Regina shuts the door – but as she does so, movement on the ground catches her attention. Immediately, she opens the door again, pinpointing the cause.
"A letter?" Regina questions, perplexed. Leaning down, she picks the envelope up. It's a pale cream colour with no address or even a stamp. Regina turns it over, nails skimming under the v-shaped opening. Ripping it, Regina takes out the card inside, which is the same colour and smaller than the envelope by an inch on either side.
I wish I have parents again.
"What?" Regina doesn't understand. Flipping the card over and over, trying to find some hidden message, Regina finds herself reading the dark blue script in slanted cursive multiple times before she looks up and around her lawn again, searching for the sender. After looking for a minute or two – even going out and around the sides of her house to check for the person that left the envelope – Regina goes back inside, shutting the door and peering at the strange correspondence.
Returning to the kitchen, Regina places it carefully on the island table, returning to her cookbook, picking out a recipe and resolutely ignoring the envelope until she gets to a point in making dinner where she has nothing to do.
"Who the hell sends letter like that, anyway?" Regina mutters darkly, confused and slightly scared. No-one in Storybrooke would send me a letter like this, but it's the fourth anniversary of the Curse being cast. I only know one thing about them, maybe – but with a wish like that, they have to be some kind of orphan. Why would the Curse do this?
The envelope is stuck to her fridge with a magnet, evidence for something Regina doesn't understand.
V
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion. In her study, Regina looks up sharply.
Opening the door, Regina expects Graham, maybe – she's instigated a relationship, recently, purely for her own benefit, trying to cure some of the persistent loneliness that's pervading her body, making everything seem big and cold. However, no-one is there. Recalling the year previous, Regina looks down, staring at the new envelope on her front porch. Picking it up, Regina opens it – noting the same paper, the same card, the same blue ink – and reads.
I wish the Johnsons adopt me and Josh stops pulling my pig-tails.
"Pig-tails?" Regina mutters, frowning before going back inside. Making her way to the kitchen, she takes the first letter off, the magnet waiting on the bench for its return. Putting the two envelopes side by side, followed by their cards, Regina studies them, nails clacking on the marble countertop.
A child, Regina guesses, an orphaned child trying to find a home. She guesses they're a girl – what boys have pig-tails? – but it's how the two cards are handwritten that bothers her. Perhaps they're a caricature, a made up person in a story. The cards are handwritten and not printed, the S in each of the words 'wish' on either card different, slanted slightly further, the O's along the second card tilted and squished depending on what letter proceeds them.
Regina glances at the calendar on her wall, the anniversary of Storybrooke's creation glaring back at her.
The date is the same. Should I expect another next year, too?
Regina takes the cards and envelopes, putting them in a larger envelope in her study, in the bottom drawer. She makes a note in the next year's itinerary, reminding her of what might come, wondering if it'll happen – and if it does, what that means.
VI
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion.
Regina, expecting it sometime during the evening of the anniversary, rather than the early afternoon, blinks in surprise before getting up from where she'd been sprawled over the couch, pausing a rerun of the last week's SNL. Padding to the front door, she opens it, eyes already levelled downwards. The envelope sits on her porch, perfect and pristine, cream as ever.
Bringing it inside, Regina opens it up, taking out the card inside and reading blue inked words.
I wish I didn't live in a group-home and I wish my parents never gave me up.
"Oh dear," Regina can't help but sympathise with the – potentially fictional – girl.
But that's all she can do. Placing the card back in the envelope, Regina goes to her office, taking out the large open envelope and slipping the third correspondence inside with its fellows. Making an entry in her next year's itinerary, Regina jots down the irregularity of the third letter, noting the time in comparison to the previous letters.
Now, I wait.
Regina has a feeling that this mystery will be one of the few things keeping her sane in the years to follow, waiting for letters to appear on her doorstep.
VII
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion and Graham pauses in his ministrations.
"Do you want to get that?"
Regina scowls as he stops, but nods, getting off the bed and slipping her silk robe on. "Stay," she orders, grumbling as she hurries downstairs, retrieving the envelope she'd been waiting twelve months for. Opening it, Regina expects another little wish for parents or a family, eyes skimming the text in her rush to get back to Graham. However, almost immediately, her impatience vanishes as cold creeps up her back.
I wish Mr Bogart would stop doing things in the bathtub.
Regina feels slightly sick and then angry. Why send her this? Why make up a character and tell her their yearly wishes- birthday wishes? It has to be their birthday. That means something – it has to, with it being the same date the Curse was cast. Maybe they only learnt how to make wishes four years ago? How old could they have been – a toddler? Three?
"Born the same day as the Curse was cast," Regina clutches the card tightly, whispering. "This is someone else's work, though. Someone writes the cards…"
Graham comes downstairs after a couple of minutes of Regina hanging out in the kitchen. He's tugging his jacket on, giving her an apologetic expression.
"I have to go. I got a call."
Regina takes a moment to nod, recalling how she'd triggered a ripple today, Leroy going to the Rabbit Hole later than usual. He leaves and she's left with the card, with its awful words. Is someone messing with me or is this real? Is this a child, somewhere in the world?
Eventually, Regina puts the envelope away in the designated place. There's nothing she can do.
VIII
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion. Regina stays put in the kitchen, steadfastly ignoring it. After an hour, she hears a window latch open, the familiar clicking sound loud and close by. She twists in her seat, eyes quickly spotting the envelope as it falls to the floor in her dining room. Looking at the open window, Regina's breath catches.
How did they open it?
Standing, Regina keeps away from the outer walls as she goes close, paranoid that someone might reach in and grab her as she retrieves the letter, shutting the window and flipping the latches. Staring out into her dark garden, Regina swallows before backing away, rushing through her home and holing up in her personal office, keeping a close eye on the large windows.
The card this year is longer than Regina has seen before.
I wish I never have to see Mr Bogart and Missus B ever, ever again and I wish that I can forget everything and I wish I never have to have a bath ever again and I wish that I get a slice of cake and I wish I wasn't having a birthday party and I wish I could stay with the Collins' forever and ever, please.
Regina breathes an instant sigh of relief. "You're safe. Thank god."
The card sticks onto the fridge with a magnet and stays there.
IX
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the mansion.
"Are we expecting visitors, Mayor Mills?" Gold questions, pausing in cutting his steak. Regina rises from the table, placing her napkin on the varnished wood gently.
"Please excuse me," she says politely, before going to the door to pick up the letter. Once it's in her hands, she goes to the study, not wanting Gold anywhere near the strange letters, or knowing they exist at all. As usual, the envelope is cream and the card inside an inch smaller than could fit, the writing in blue.
I wish a family takes me in before I turn twelve and people stop looking at me.
"How old are you now?" Regina muses. "Nine, perhaps…a lot can happen in three years."
She slips the card back into the envelope, storing it with the others, belatedly remembering last years is still on her fridge. Blanching slightly, Regina returns to Gold hurriedly, decidedly tense as they finish their meal, talking business.
When he leaves, the envelope from last year is hidden away too.
X
For the ten-year anniversary, Regina organises a dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town for the city council members, other high-living officials and Gold. As she's chatting to the Albert Spencer-fied King George, a waiter comes up, interrupting gently.
"Mayor, there's a letter for you at the desk."
"Oh?" Regina raises an eyebrow, before recalling the reason for the dinner. Excusing herself from conversation with Spencer, Regina follows the waiter to the front desk, receiving the cream envelope, stopping herself from being visibly startled at the dark, black, block capitals spelling out REGINA. Taking it, she goes to the bathroom for privacy, locking herself in a stall before opening the envelope gently, taking out the card inside.
I wish I wasn't called Emma Swan and that I have my own last name from my real parents and not ones who give little kids away.
"A name," Regina blinks in confusion. "Why…"
Regina puts the card back in the envelope, returning to her table after taking a minute to compose herself. The envelope is tucked into her purse until she returns home, whereupon she fires up her new computer that had appeared one morning, along with the know-how on its use.
Searching Emma Swan, Regina finds herself with a newspaper article, describing a baby found by a diner patron in the woods, barely half an hour from Storybrooke, a knitted blanket with her name on it the only thing keeping her warm.
"This isn't a coincidence," Regina takes all the letters out, lining up the wishes in order, forming a story in her mind.
Gets adopted by a Swan family, gets given back to the system and grows up enough that she's able to articulate her loss of family. Ends up with a Johnson family, leaves said family for a group-home before finding herself in the hands of a paedophile.
"Then…" Regina swallows the lump in her throat, pushing onwards.
Escapes paedophile and his partner to a safe home with a Collins family – probably an emergency home, if she recently left their care. Grows up more, discovering that potential adoptees don't look for children older than twelve and then becomes bitter over her name.
"And somehow, I've been getting these wishes each year," Regina purses her lips, before wondering if she could track the girl down. While it might be a cruelty to raise a child that grows in Storybrooke, at least she would live a better life than she already had.
I'll have Sidney on it in the morning.
"Emma," Marie calls. "Emma, come downstairs, now! Your social worker's here to see you!"
"I'm coming!" Emma yells, scrambling to tuck her tape-player in her drawer before rushing out of her room. Taking the stairs two at a time, Emma comes to a short stop beside the already-impatient Marie, who gives Emma an unimpressed look.
"Emma," her social worker greets, "I've got some good news for you."
"Yeah?" Emma looks up at Janet, noticing that her hair-dye hadn't been topped up since they last time they saw each other two months ago. Behind her, the Christmas tree twinkles, before abruptly switching off, Marie twisting to scold the two girls playing with the plugs. Janet watches them with Emma for a few seconds before taking her hand, leading her to the kitchen, as if she were some little kid.
"A few months ago, remember how I told you a lady had called, asking about you?"
"Yeah," Emma sits down at the table with Janet as she opens up her briefcase, handing over a picture of a smiling, dark-haired woman. "Is this her?"
"Yes. She's taken quite an interest in you – she's actually from near where you were found, as a baby. It's all very exciting."
"Really?" Emma questions, peering closer at the picture. She's very pretty, she thinks, eyes trailing over her dark, dark hair and wide, red-lipped smile. "Is she going to be my new foster-mom?"
"Better," Janet says and that's when Emma actually starts to pay proper attention, head snapping up as her eyes widen. "Her name is Regina Mills and she wants to adopt you, Emma."
Emma sucks in a breath. Janet has to be lying, but Janet doesn't lie. She's one of the few adults Emma's trusts and who always tries to believe Emma, when she complains about her foster-homes and foster-parents. If she really wants to adopt me though, why hasn't she come to meet me? Emma somehow asks Janet this, who nods understandably.
"She only recently finished the paperwork to adopt and house a child – and golly, did it all go through quickly! Regina would like you to come spend a few days with her after Christmas, over the New Year. If you like her and get on well, we'll schedule more and more visits until, maybe, if you want, she adopts you in the summertime."
"Okay," Emma breathes, smiling all of a sudden, eyes burning. "I'm going to get adopted!"
Janet hugs her tightly as the tears start, Emma reaching her arms around Janet's shoulders as her head tucks into her curly ginger hair.
"Yeah, sweetheart, you're going to get adopted."