A/N: The first line of the story is me and Regina. This is a story based on real events from my time abroad. If you are looking for something a bit grittier and a bit real then this story is for you. At times it will deviate but I hope the real events make the story even more gripping. New Zealand was a magical time for me and despite the heartbreak and sadness I never wish to forget my time there. We all move on given time and this is a story long since past. Please enjoy this Swanqueen edition :)

This story will be told out of order and a bit different than my others - yet I hope you can stick with it and I hope you enjoy it.

Love Always PP19

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This may not be my fairy-tale, but it is my story. At times an adventure, at times a laugh, and at its worst the place in my mind I am the most afraid of and wish to forget.

As I heard them call my boarding group I sucked in my tears. Not to say they stopped flowing because I can guarantee that what I was about to do scared the absolute shit out of me. Gate 20, now I grew up traveling, flying around the states but this was my first time in the International Terminal. It was so intimidating. I sat at my gate crying for the hour or so it took for the plane to be que-ed up to make the pacific long haul.

I sucked in my breath one more time, told my mom I loved her. I was doing this, I was leaving the country for the first time solo. To a land I had only seen glimpses of in a TV show. I knew no one in New Zealand. My international politics major simply dictated that I needed to study abroad. Sure I had taken Spanish for years, Spain would have been an easy choice. Especially when I was Latina. Another easy choice would have been Japan, where my first love, that I didn't quite realize was my first love ran back to. But no, after months of ridiculous hoops to jump through, all from a gut decision that New Zealand was to be my home and my hell for the next stint of my life.

I never knew that what happened there would severely shape me and change me, I would never return the same girl who left the states that day Feb 18th, 2000.

They called my boarding group as I begrudgingly hung up. I was in a state of pure terror. I didn't want to step on that plane. Since I was five I have been flying. I know the drill with airport security and packing and how to pass the time, but this was about to push my limits.

One more breath and I got in line and was greeted by a kindly kiwi woman who welcomed me ' Kia Ora'.

The ride was the first challenge. Have you ever been on a long haul flight? It tests you. The problem is you can't fail the test, there is no out. Economy is smaller than domestic, they really pack you in like sardines. I couldn't even pull my knees up to lay my head down.

Before this trip, I couldn't sleep sitting up. After many adventures I would learn to sleep anywhere and whenever I could.

The flight was full of movies and short naps. I had charged my kindles and ipods and you name it, never touched an electronic once.

Arrived in a seemingly hung over state. Found my ride to the hostel, my home for the next year. I quickly moved through the motion of paper work and getting my room key and fob. One moment I was about to get on a plane and the next thing I know, I am sitting in this tiny student dorm room in Auckland New Zealand.

It was a day full of culture shock for sure. I couldn't find a water fountain, they use the sinks. There were so many things I did the first few months that were, "So American." But I was different than the other American's I was determined to fit in. Truth is, from the beginning I knew I fit it more here than in my own country. I was non-religious, and my sexual orientation was way up in the air.

My RA Red was excited to have a real American cheerleader on the floor. I just liked not feeling invisible. The only American I ran into for quite a while would be the one in the mirror.

I sat in my room and started to panic, what was I doing? Something you need to know about Regina Mills, I hate being trapped. I can't put my finger on when it started but I can't stand locked doors, small spaces and being alone, really can't stand being alone.

I went downstairs to where there was wifi to try and get my facebook up and running. I had joined a group for my residence hall a few weeks before arriving and had made a few friends. I sat there scrolling through conversations, many like myself were looking for computer assistance with the internet. I saw a post about some sort of university data sharing and asked about it to strike up a conversation.

Funny thing was my laptop had to be plugged in, and I was sitting behind a couch, which I told this mysterious person coming to help me with my computer. Not ten min later some boy named Gram was jumping over the couch and taking over my laptop.

I stared incredulously. I had never met this guy, I was shocked by how forward he was. I also instantly felt at home with him. I sat there watching him work. We still hadn't said two words. I looked around, shifted my hair into a pony and tried to not sound nervous.

"Hey I'm Regina." Giving my new friend a small wave, a bit awkward given our close proximity.

He turned nodding, "Gram."

He downloaded a few more things, I watched in amazement.

"There, should be sweet as."

He handed my laptop back.

I don't remember much after that until my floor meeting. Where Gram went, I didn't know. I do however remember going back to my room and having a panic attack. I sent a quick message to my RA telling her I was home sick and no sooner had I sent it then the head of hall herself was knocking on my door and asking me to take a walk with her.

I swallowed hard, I was already causing trouble, and proving that Americans are like so many of our stereotypes, specifically at this moment entitled.

My initial reaction had been fear, but after two min with this woman, we were chatting about travel and when she had moved to London. It was suggested that I get something to eat, take a shower, and make my room mine. Really commit and own what I was doing. And I'll admit that helped a lot. On my way back to my room I was introduced to another North American, Katherine Nolan. We would become good friends, at first just out of survival, later it would develop to a lasting friendship, though it wasn't always healthy.

I started to feel a bit better and it was only 8am in the morning. I walked around the halls introducing myself to these new first years with my funny accent.

My trouble in this paradise started when I saw her. Blond hair, slightly wavy, halfway down her back, blue eyes quickly finding mine. Her smile was so shy. You will later come to realize this was never the case with her, well almost never the case with her.

She was standing with her mom, a very cheery woman who said hello and quickly deducting that I was not from around there, asked how I was enjoying the country so far.

I must have said something entertaining because the woman laughed, and the girl smiled at me. Her gaze lingered longer then was necessary, but I didn't mind.

We soon had a floor meeting where we all introduced ourselves, me and Katherine sitting next to each other as we had met earlier. Just as we were about to finish Emma walked in, the blond with the blue eyes. She always had this way about her, especially when we were alone.

Emma blushed and quickly sat down, quickly introducing herself. We sat around and talked for a bit and I was quickly approached by a boy named Robin. He was tall and his charmed seemed to already be legendary. He liked to joke around and I played the game, Katherine quickly fell under his spell though she would never admit to it freely.

Katherine and I had decided to meet later and watch Modern Family. I was shifting decorations around again as I waited for our movie time. I got a message from Gram asking how it was going, he invited me to a movie night the same night, said it would be going in the common room late. Said it was him, another friend mulan and Emma. I told him after my time with Katherine I would head his way.

The night flew by and I found out Katherine loved cooking. Not just loved cooking but was obsessed with cooking. Her mother had taught her daughter to appreciate the art. Her mother also owned a fashion line and her estranged father lived in Brazil with his new wife. She was from Canada.

Wandering down the hall I heard laughs and squeals. I was about to open the door when Emma pushed it open almost running into me. She looked me up and down and after a full evaluation smiled.

"We are running back to my room to get Milo." She grabbed my hand and dragged me back down the hall, never dropping my hand. I went with the flow.

We entered her room and she dropped my hand. She stood on her bed, despite being on the taller end of average height like me. She shuffled through a few foodstuffs I recognized as tea. And I thanked my British grandmother for preparing me to be socially accepted in a European culture.

She turned to me and smirked tossing the can at me. I instinctively stuck my tongue out. She laughed and pulled out two mugs. Nudging me with her shoulder, telling me we were ready to go. I followed as if in a trance, that night had been strange in deed. I was hooked.

A/N: Thoughts? :)