A/N: I apologize for this. This is a 4-part Tumblr prompt that I've been getting nudged with, and so because I myself have been fairly sick for the last month, I figured sure okay.

Which means that the below is cracky and weird, and yet also kind of tender and sweet. If you're looking for funny, it's probably not here, but I do think you'll find a few chuckles and hopefully a couple awwws.

Warnings: Some language, mild violence, a sick Evil Queen and crackery.


The former Evil Queen and current Mayor of Storybrooke is half-unconscious lying face down on the couch in her office at the Mansion when she feels the buzzing of her cell which she'd forgotten to remove from the pocket of her jacket before she'd slumped down to take a "quick nap just to regain her energy".

A weary glance at her illuminated cell phone screen shows Emma's name there, and she's more than a little tempted to let it go to voicemail because quite frankly right now, she's just not in the mood for another argument – even a somewhat amusing and even interesting one as most of theirs have been as of late - with the infuriating and all-too intriguing blonde woman, but ultimately because the call is coming from the sheriff's station instead of Emma's personal line, Regina decides that she might as well answer it.

Because she's turning over a new life, and she's trying to be cooperative.

But good God does she hate being on her best behavior. Mostly, it means that she's just a little more polite than usual to the idiots around town, but every now and again it almost means having to do something truly absurd - like work a carnival booth at the Miner's Day Festival - just to show everyone that she can play nice and fit in if she tries.

She grits her teeth and says oh so sweetly, "Sheriff, what can I do for you?"

There's an all-too amused laugh from the other side, and Regina reminds herself that she's no longer using magic for nefarious selfish reasons and that electrocuting Emma across cellular lines would be a very bad thing.

Snow White would whine and Henry wouldn't approve of it for sure.

It'd be so very deserved, though.

She sighs.

"Miss Swan," Regina growls out, making sure that she sounds as annoyed as is humanly possible. "What exactly is it that you want or did you decide that you missed your teenage delinquent years and decided to crank call me just for the sheer fun of it?" She's been feeling like she'd gotten hit by a bus for the last couple of days or so (and it's been getting progressively worse, probably thanks to her refusal to actually slow down and really rest more than working from home), and she's in no mood for the sheer frivolousness and indulgent childish absurdity of this town.

Or Emma Swan for that matter.

Actually, she muses, those things are rather one and the same.

"It's so good to hear your voice as well, Regina. I missed you." She almost sounds like she means it.

"Yes, I'm sure you did," Regina replies drolly. "What do you want?"

"All right, I need your help," Emma tells her. Behind her, Regina thinks that she hears the sound of yelling and something babbling nonsensically. Oh and it sounds like Mary Margaret just screamed at someone to "put that down right now".

"With what?" She sits up fully. "Is Henry all right? What's going on over there? Are your idiot parents fighting again? Actually, that would almost be enjoyable to see considering how nauseatingly well they get along."

"Relax, Henry is just fine. He should be at school right about now, and no, this doesn't have anything to do with my parents fighting. Sorry, but you're going to have to keep cashing in your wish upon a star coupons for them to break up," Emma cracks before suddenly letting out something that sounds like a short sharp cry of surprise. Once again, Mary Margaret can be heard in the background, only this time she's ordering someone to stay out of the coffee pot and she's insisting that drinking that much caffeine can't possibly be good for whomever it that she's yelling at.

"So, then what is this all about then?" Regina demands impatiently as she tries to block out the strange almost inexplicable sounds in the background. "I'm quite busy and I don't have time for -"

"It's about something your old buddy Jefferson did," Emma interrupts. She's the only one who would dare.

But because Emma's words catch her interest, the former queen lets it go, her eyebrow lifting upwards. "Well first off, Jefferson is hardly an 'old buddy' of mine, and second, there's no way that I'm helping that lunatic in any way."

"You're misunderstanding what I'm saying, Regina; I'm not asking you to help Jefferson with anything because I know you wouldn't. I'm asking you to help me because of something Jefferson did with that stupid hat of his," Emma grumbles out.

"His hat. Let me guess, he tried to open up a portal back to the Enchanted Forest again," Regina suggests as she yanks out a tissue and wipes delicately at her sore nose. Her hand slides up to her forehead, and she can feel the heat radiating off it. Which is all just annoying because she simply doesn't have time for any of this. She hasn't been truly sick in over three decades and she has no intention of allowing something as pedestrian as a cold or the flu take her down now.

"Hole in one," Emma confirms. Behind her, something crashes and then there's the sound of Mary Margaret pleading whoever is having the fit to just be calm and try to be good.

"Why?"

"Why did he try to open a portal? Something about trying to go back in time and change things."

Regina scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes and allowing herself a bit of open derision for her former friend who has completely gone around every bend on the track as of late. "Even he knows that's not possible."

"Yeah, well he's not exactly what I'd call a shining symbol of sanity these days," Emma replies, her tone dry. "Grace wanting to continue having a relationship with her cursed parents seems to have unhinged him a bit."

"He's always been unhinged," Regina corrects, her tone dry and without humor as she thinks back to a trip she'd taken with him through the looking glass. "Though I will admit that his rather long and somewhat eventful stay in Wonderland didn't exactly do him any favors. Still, I fail to see what concern his silliness is of mine. Regardless of my history with him, he failed at something that forty years ago he would have been the very first person to tell me was impossible."

"Yeah, but here's the thing, Regina: he did actually manage to open up a portal. It just wasn't to the Enchanted Forest or to the past. At least I don't think it's the past." Emma voice gets muffled and distant then as she presumably turns away from the phone and yells, "Hey, those are metal bars you're chewing on, and I need those to stay where they are. If they don't, things and people and furry little hell demons like yourself don't stay inside like they should."

Regina taps her nails against the edge of the couch, frowning as she tries to understand what the sheriff is talking about. Furry little hell demon? What? "Emma? What is going on there? Who are you yelling at? Who is your mother scolding?"

"Sorry," the sheriff answers after a moment, sounding both incredibly amused and completely irritated. "Look, I promise you that you'll understand everything when you see it…him. When you meet our new friend here."

Swaying a bit dizzily beneath the weight of bone-deep exhaustion and far too many cold pills that aren't really helping her like they should, Regina stands up and starts looking around for the entirely too high of heels that she'd kicked off after coming home sick a few days earlier. She'd practically passed out on the couch that night, and well, it hadn't been pretty.

"Fine, but explain this much for me at least: where did the portal Jefferson opened go to?" Regina prompts as she finally spots the heels. It's becoming abundantly clear that she's going to have to intervene on behalf of this town once again. How very ironic how often they need her to save their asses considering much they hate her. "And what came back?"

"It was to alternate version of this world, apparently," Emma explains as something loud again crashes behind her. "One where some of the cartoon characters that we know of here actually exist there. One group of them specifically."

Regina can't help herself from breaking out in a wide - perhaps entirely too wide - smile of malicious amusement. "Oh please tell me that it was the Roadrunner that came back over. I have so many ways that I can cook that little –"

Emma snorts in amusement. "Disturbing, Madam Mayor."

"Right. Yes. Apologies," Regina drawls as she reaches for a glass of water and just barely manages to stop herself from another dry hacking fit. Her stomach rolls as she moves too quickly, and she wonders if she's about to end up in the bathroom again. Thankfully, her belly settles after a moment and she's able to focus her eyes on the far wall of the room to steady herself and keep everything from spinning like she's on some kind of obnoxious carnival ride.

"Worst apology ever and still damned disturbing. By the way, are you okay over there? You sound awful."

"Yes, I'm fine. Just swallowed some water the wrong way," she lies. She knows that it's pointless to try to hide her illness because Emma will surely notice it when she shows up at the sheriff's station, but for now at least, she doesn't wish to humor the annoying worry sure to come at her (most of which she fears will actually be genuine which opens up a whole other front of worries for her) from the blonde. "So whom are we talking about exactly? Which cartoon character?"

"Can I say first how weirded out I am that you're not at all weirded out?"

Regina chuckles. "That's because I understand the concept of alternative worlds and universes. Every story that you think is just a simple child's story, Emma, actually happened somewhere. It's real, just perhaps not on this Earth."

"Yeah, I'm getting that. You ever see the movie Lilo and Stitch?"

Regina frowns for a moment as she turns all of the knowledge and experience that she'd gained with Jefferson during their portal jumping days over in her admittedly foggy brain. After a moment, she sighs loudly in resignation, "No, I can't say that I have. Who is it that's here? Lilo or Stitch? And more importantly, what are they?"

There's another loud crash, and then Emma laughs and it sounds like she's completely amused. Which, Regina thinks sourly, can only be bad for her. "There goes the coffeemaker," she comments.

"What?"

"Stitch is the one that's here, Regina, and I really think that you need to come over here and see him for yourself."

"All right. Should I be prepared to use magic?" the former queen asks, unable to hide a tone thick with both excitement and trepidation. She's been trying so very hard to only use her powers when she absolutely needs to (and only for official town business), but she'd be lying if she were to claim that she doesn't feel a surge of something curious and a bit dark whenever the opportunity to let loose and feel the energy within her arises again.

Though, considering how sickly and out of it she feels right now, she can't help but wonder if her magic would do something unbelievably goofy like turn everyone into red-assed monkeys capable of singing opera. As amusing as that would initially be, it wouldn't be good in the long run. Mostly because Emma would never let her live it down.

"Hopefully not, but well he's a fluffy little bastard so you never know."

"Fluffy little bastard," Regina repeats. "I'm on my way."

"Good. Oh and hey, Regina, some of his equally fluffy brothers and sisters came through Jefferson's hat, too, so just do me a favor and be on the look out for them and if you see anything distinctly weird – and I mean weirder than the Storybrooke version of the word – don't hit it with your car. Please?"

"I value my car," Regina reminds her.

"Yeah, I know, but just the same, they can be kind of…startling. Some of them have some odd abilities, and I don't want them – or you – hurt, okay? So please, just humor me for once?"

"If you insist."

"Also, don't flip out if one of them tries to talk to you. They…can…talk."

"Why would I…why would they –"

"Just get over to the station and you'll see. You'll understand everything then, I promise."

"Fine. Ten minutes."

"Good. And thank you." There's a softness to her voice when she says this, and it makes something warm spark in the middle of Regina's choice. She decides to dismiss this as being simple whatever virus this is causing her discomfort.

All the while ignoring that Emma has been making her feel like this often since returning from Neverland.

"Of course. Do you need me to bring a broom?" Regina asks as another crash sounds loudly in the background, and this time she thinks she hears David joining his wife in pleading their guest not to break anything else.

"That would be very much appreciated," Emma chuckles.

"Very well," Regina answers, and then quickly ends the call with a click. She slips her heels back on, pulls her thickest wool coat around her shuddering chill-struck frame, and then heads out the door.


She's sitting in her car, about to start up the engine when the idea of how to know more about whatever situation she's heading into comes to her. She pulls her cell phone back out, coughs twice, takes a deep breath as a wave of dizziness skips through her body, and then once it finally passes, dials her son's number.

He answers on the third ring. "Mom?" Henry says, seeming surprised. "Is everything all right?"

"It is, dear. And I'm sorry for interrupting you in the middle of your school day, but I was hoping that maybe you could help me with something. If you're busy, it can certainly wait, though."

"No, I'm not busy. It's lunch time, and it's not...mom, it's never a bother," he tells her, and she feels her heart soften into something that just a bit like melted marshmallow, "So what's up?"

"Have you ever seen the film Lilo and Stitch?"

He laughs. "Oh."

"Oh, what?" her eyebrow lifting up, not that Henry can see it, anyway.

"You've heard about him."

"So have you, I see."

"Through Grace because it was her dad who opened the portal up, but yeah; word around is that the sheriff's department has been trying to track down him and his siblings all morning. Did you just find out about it?"

She's about to respond but ends up coughing for about thirty seconds straight instead, and she's pretty sure she just coughed up her right lung.

Gross.

"Mom, are you sick?" Henry asks, sounding so much older than twelve. She can almost see his narrowed eyes.

"It's just a little cough," Regina assures him, getting more and more annoyed by this ridiculous bug that she's picked up by the moment. "I took the day off to try to shake the rest of it, but don't worry, dear, I'm fine."

He bulldozes – in typical Emma Swan style – right past her assurances. "You didn't tell me you weren't feeling good," he states. "Why not? And how long has this been going on?"

"I didn't tell you because it's just a silly cold," she answers, and then doesn't add that if he still lived at the house full time, he would have known that she's been fighting this bug for the last few days. It's one thing for the rest of this town – and Emma - to buy that she's just been working from home for the quiet of it, but her son should have been aware of such a thing, she thinks, not quite able to hide a hint of bitterness within. She knows such thoughts aren't fair, though, because things have been good as of late between she and Emma in regards to Henry and the sharing of him.

Better than good.

Ever since Neverland, their interactions with each other have almost been effortless. Sure, they still argue constantly, but rarely about Henry and almost never about anything that matters.

But she's not feeling well right now, and trying to be fair isn't something she much cares about. It's time like this when she misses her son dearly, and it's damned hard to hide it.

"You should have told me," he scolds, and okay, so that helps a little.

"I'm sorry," she says softly because their newly healing relationship is still so very young and fresh, and she doesn't want to risk damaging it with new walls. She doesn't want to grab harder than she needs to. "But I am okay. Emma just called to ask me to come down to the station, and I was hoping that you could clue me in before I got there."

"He's fluffy," Henry says with a laugh. "Really fluffy. And cute."

"Emma said that, too. So why does that not sound like a good thing?"

"Tonight," he tells her, "I'll bring over the movie. You'll see."

"That…I think that's a very good idea," she says and she doesn't tell him just how much his easy and uncomplicated offer to spend time just watching a movie with her fills her with joy. Though he was due over anyway tonight to start his week on with her (the custody arrangement that she and Emma had worked out without any assistance from anyone else is one week on and off for both of them) that he wants to do something with her instead of just being there almost completely wipes away the bitterness that had been there just a few moments earlier. It makes everything so much...warmer.

"Cool," he says. Like he has no idea of the internal monologue she has going on. He likely doesn't.

"I should go," Regina says reluctantly. "They're expecting me over at the station, and it sounded rather bad down there."

"It probably is," he laughs. And then, "Hey, mom."

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you know that, right?"

She closes her eyes. "Oh, Henry, I love you, too."

"I know," he tells her. There's a pause and then he says, "He's probably going to tick you off because he's kind of crazy, but not frying Stitch, okay? He's away from his home and he's just a little bit misunderstood."

"Misunderstood," she snorts (which ends up turning into another harsh coughing fit into her elbow), because really, what would a cartoon character know about being misunderstood? Then again, she muses, she's still trying to find ways not to rage every time she accidentally happens upon the Disney version of Snow White and the Evil Queen's story.

Misunderstood indeed.

"He is," Henry assures her. "Very much so. He's a long way from home and I'm sure he's just kind of sad about being away from his family. I know that I was when I was in his place."

"Oh, honey."

"But I'm fine now. So promise me you won't use him for target practice."

She pauses a moment.

"Mom, promise me." She can hear the teasing in his voice, and it's that which relaxes her enough to understand he's not thinking the worst of her. It never fails to amaze her just how much things have changed for the better between them.

"Fine. I won't fry this Stitch…thing," she assures him.

"Thank you," he says. "I'll see you later."


The first thing that Regina notices when she gets to the Storybrooke Sheriff's Station is that the front door leading inside has deep fingernail grooves across the painted surface of it. Actually, they're more like claw marks, and they look like someone – or something – had been dragged off of the door by force.

The next thing that she sees is that Emma's patrol car - which is parked haphazardly on the curb (typical, she thinks, the woman parks like she's blind) - looks like something took a massive bite out of one of the wheels of it.

She sighs and steps inside, her heels clicking against the polished floor. That it's taking every bit of concentration she has to stay on her feet and not stumble and break an ankle is a secret that she will happily take with her to the grave.

But then, just as she's thinking this, she hears a loud screeched out, "Regina, duck!"

She doesn't move an inch, though, because it's Snow White that's calling to her, and what does she have to be scared of. Instead, her hands glow with fire and she snaps around as if to find out what it is that's attacking her.

What she gets instead is the feel of something rather solid colliding with her back, and knocking her face-first to the cold floor of the hallway before it stands atop her back, its claws digging into the rough wool of her jacket.

"Get off of me," Regina hisses as she struggles to get leverage back.

"No!" it calls out from where it's perched on her. "Stitch doesn't want to."

"Stitch, now come on, sweetie, you have to get off of Regina, okay?" Mary Margaret says softly, soothingly, as she approaches. "Please?" She puts a hand out towards him, like she's imploring him to step away from certain death.

"What is going on here?" Regina growls as she snaps around. The creature atop her – bright blue, impossibly furry and possessing four arms instead of two – spins with her and ends up holding onto the wall just to the side of her. He looks vaguely like a rabid dog with long floppy ears, Regina thinks as she stares at him.

"Regina, meet Stitch," Mary Margaret says. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. He's about to not be," she growls as she steps towards him. "Do you know who I am, little creature?" she holds up her hand and then snaps it so that fire forms in the palm of it.

And he spits at her. Tongue out and wagging and saliva flying everywhere.

Fucking Mary Margaret laughs. And then puts her hand over her mouth.

Regina side-eyes her like she's considering throwing the fireball at her, but then looks back at the creature. "I'm Stitch," he says, his voice an odd garble. "Stitch wants to go home. You're not home."

"No, I'm not home, and you have very poor manners," Regina retorts. "But don't worry, dear, I can train those out of you."

And then she smirks.

From somewhere behind them, Emma cackles. She steps into the hallway looking like she's gone through something of a war, but she's finding all of this too funny to be concerned with the fact that there are deep scratch marks and slobber drops up and down her red jacket. Actually, Regina thinks spitefully, those additions might be an improvement of sorts.

"Regina, tell me you are not seriously scolding a space alien from another world about his manners?" Emma asks with a shit-eating grin plastered across her face. "Because for what it's worth, my mother already tried that, and that's why I'll be submitting a request for repairs for…well, everything tonight."

Regina groans and then turns her attention back to the blue creature, which is still perched on the wall watching her. "Do you know where you are?"

He shakes his head, his eyes on the fireball in her hand.

"Do you know why you're here?" She demands, waving it at him.

He growls and then does something that looks almost like a petulant pout.

And then he crosses his arms - all four of them - around his chest and sticks out his tongue at her again, like she's somehow the bad guy here. He completes this absurdity by turning his head away from her like a small child would.

She wonders if she's allowed to spank a space alien from another planet.

"Maybe try talking to him without the fire," Mary Margaret suggests, her voice passive in a way that makes Regina want to light her up. For the moment, she sounds far more like the meek woman from the curse than the bandit from the woods.

"Oh what the hell would you know?" Regina snaps.

"School teacher and not a tyrannical despot," Emma says. She then quickly applies a smile to her face to soften words that weren't actually meant to hurt, but all she gets in return is an annoyed glare from the former queen.

Which oddly enough highlights just how far they've come with each other.

Nowadays, it's almost normal to tease each other.

Ugh.

"Fine, but if it attacks me again, I'm turning it in a shish-ka-bob." Regina replies. She whirls her hand around dramatically, and then the flame extinguishes. Once it's out, she turns her attention back to the creature whose eyes have never left her. "How about we start again," she suggests to him, using her best politician's voice. "Do you know why you're here?"

He shakes his head once more, and then scoots down on the wall like he's considering approaching her, but hasn't quite made up his mind yet. He tilts his head, and it almost makes her dizzy to even look at him like this.

"Your name is Stitch?"

"My name is Stitch," he agrees, eyeing her warily.

"My name is Regina. And don't worry, I won't light you on fire. For now."

"Regina," he repeats, cocking his head to the side.

"Yes, Regina. I'm the Mayor of this town you're in. Storybrooke."

"Mayor?"

"Boss. I tell everyone here what to do. Which includes you."

Emma snorts in response to that, and Regina reminds herself that Henry wouldn't approve of her lighting his birth mother on fire. It takes a few deep breaths, a couple of ten counts and a self-reminder (a pep talk, really) that she's trying to be a better person, and really, she does kind of like Emma these days so her being charred would almost be unfortunate.

"The laughing idiot in the ugly jacket is Emma," Regina continues sweetly. "And the fool that's been chasing you around is Mary Margaret." To Emma she asks, "Where did your father go? Did he lock himself up in a cell?"

"No," Emma answers. "He's out chasing the other ones around."

"Oh, right," Regina turns her attention back to Stitch. "You have brother and sisters who came here with you, too, yes?"

"Cousins," he corrects. "They're my cousins. We're far from home."

"I know. And this Lilo person is…"

"My family. My best friend. Yeah. Yeah."

"Well, I suppose then you'd like to get back to her, yes?"

He nods, his bright eyes hopeful in a way that rather hurts her right in the middle of her chest. Because she understands.

She does. Far more than she might like to admit.

"Well then, I'm quite certain that we can help you with that but in order for us to do that, I need you to try and behave yourself like a good boy. Which means no more destroying city property and no more eating coffeemakers or climbing on things that you shouldn't be on. And absolutely no more caffeine. Can you do that, Stitch?" she asks as she steps closer to him. It's a decidedly risky move because this furry little thing might be rabid or insane and it could bite her, but there's something about the way that everyone is acting that tells her that little homesick creature isn't a threat.

"Stitch be good," he says. "As long as Regina be good."

"Yes, well, one thing at a time," Regina states. "So let's start with how you're going to help Emma and Mary Margaret clean up the station and the mess you've made, and then we can discuss getting you home."

He considers this for a moment, and then says, "Stitch hungry."

"And what would Stitch like to eat?"

"Ice cream," he says as his ear bends forward and picks at his nose.

"Don't do that," Regina scolds.

He scowls at her, then takes one more swipe before pulling back.

Emma laughs. "Mint chocolate chip?"

He nods his head eagerly.

"I'll go find some and bring it back," Mary Margaret offers up entirely too eagerly, and then before anyone can stop her, she turns and beats a hasty retreat down the hallway, her shoes beating an uneven rhythm as she half-runs.

"You should eat something healthier than that," Regina suggests as she turns away from Mary Margaret's bizarrely running form. "Then she wrinkles her nose. "Though I suppose we wouldn't know where to begin."

"He'll be fine, Regina," Emma says. "Hopefully Stitch will only be with us for a few days until we can reverse whatever Jefferson did and send him and his cousins home. I don't think a little bit of ice cream will hurt him until then."

"Spoken like the person who feeds our son French fries for breakfast."

"Spoken like the person who looks like death warmed over," Emma retorts.

"I beg your pardon."

"So, since when does working from home mean being filthy sick?" Emma queries, her eyes sweeping over Regina's form. The older woman is far paler than usual, and there's a light glean of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes are red, puffy and unfocused and her voice sounds deeper and more hoarse than usual. All of which suggests a nasty cold or maybe even – considering Regina's inexperience with the illnesses of this world - something a little bit worse than that.

It's damned hard to tell what Regina is ill with, though because so something tells Emma that the former queen isn't exactly patient of the year when she gets sick, and she's not going to go just stay down and allow herself to be diagnosed.

Or get better, for that matter.

"How drugged up are you right now?" Emma asks.

"Who said that I am?"

"Just tell me this: are you drugged up enough that part of you is wondering if all of this is just some wacky hallucination."

"Is it?" Regina asks almost hopefully.

"No. Sorry. You really did almost just light a little space alien on fire."

"Damn," she sighs. "And I'm quite fine. You're wrong. As usual."

"Of course I am. You still look like shit."

"And you're quite the charmer. Pun intended in the worst of ways."

"No fighting," Stitch says suddenly, and that's when they realize that he's crawled down the wall and has put himself between the two women, an arm out in each of their directions.

"We're not fighting," Emma assures him with a smirk.

"We were."

"Regina."

She rolls her eyes at the sheriff. "We're fine, Stitch. We were just…talking. Miss Swan - Emma - and I have a complicated…."

"Friendship," Emma suggests, and Regina thinks she chose that particular word just to annoy her. And, of course, because it's actually accurate in ways Regina doesn't want to think about, it totally works and she glares back at the sheriff.

He narrows his eyes at the two of them. "You are family," he tells them, seeming so serious and then sweeps his paw back and forth between the two women. "Family always loves each other even when they fight. Yeah."

"Is he your mother in dog form?" Regina asks.

Emma laughs and she shouldn't because good Lord that was rude.

But also kind of funny.

"Only if my mother eats the coffeemaker. Has she ever?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Regina grunts. Her eyes turn back towards Stitch who continues to watch her. "After he finishes cleaning up – and you will finish cleaning up, young man – then what we do with him?" She glances over Emma's shoulders back towards the cells. "I suppose we could put him in there." She frowns when she says this.

"I'd rather not," Emma protests. "The cell probably won't hold him, anyway, and I don't really think he's all that much of a threat that he requires it. His cousins are kind of a nuisance because they do stupid shit like fire electricity and try to drown people just for the hell of it, but there's only about five or six of them roaming around town, and mostly they just want the exact same thing that he wants. Mint chocolate chip ice cream and to get back home."

"Which is all very well and fine, but until we can get Jefferson to reverse his math and figure out how to return them to their own world, what are we going to do about them while they're here with us?"

"I guess we can foster them for a few days."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, as in have them stay with someone."

"I know what the word foster means. And that's the most –"

"-Awesome plan ever," Henry chirps as he enters the hallway, his green eyes bright with excitement. He comes up behind both of his mothers and puts a hand lightly on each of their backs like he's trying to draw them together. Both of the women look at him like they know what he's up to, but neither one of them is going to call him out on it.

"You should be at school," Regina scolds, but she doesn't resist even a little bit when he squeezes his arm around her.

"I know, but I just really wanted to see him." He breaks away from his mothers, then, and approaches Stitch and kneels down so that they're just about at eye level. "Hey, Stitch, I'm Henry." He holds out his hand to the little creature.

"Henry," Stitch repeats, taking his hand "Hi Henry, I'm Stitch. Good to meet you." He then adds in what can only be described as a wide cheesy toothy grin which is probably supposed to be friendly, but it's actually a bit terrifying.

"You, too." He looks up at Regina. "Mom, how about you keep him."

Regina thinks that she must look like a cartoon character herself, because her eyes pop wide open – and even out like someone would in an Acme cartoon – in surprise. "What?"

"I heard what you were saying; you need someone for him to stay for a bit."

"Oh this is going to be good," Emma says with a grin.

Regina shoots the sheriff a dirty look and then returns her attention back to Henry, "Yes, dear," she says, her voice low and understanding, "But that doesn't mean it should be with me. I have a lot on my plate, and I just don't think that taking care of a…of Stitch, is in anyone's best interests. Especially not his. Or mine. Or anyone's. Henry, it's a bad idea."

"I don't think it is. Emma?"

"I actually think, Madam Mayor, that it's the best idea ever." She turns towards Stitch who has been watching this whole conversation with keen intelligence. "Stitch, what do you think? You want to stay with Regina for a few days."

"Stitch likes Regina. Yeah."

"Come on, Mom," Henry pleads, reminding her of a child at a toy shop asking for the newest shiniest truck there. "It'll be good for you. And since tonight starts my week with you, I'll be able to help out. It'll be fun for us."

"Yeah, Madam Mayor, come on; it'll be fun. For everyone."

"I will get you back for this," Regina replies sweetly. And if her eyes weren't watering, and her nose wasn't starting to run, it might be a threat worth taking seriously, but a sickly Evil Queen is pretty hard to get scared of.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll try."

"No try, do," Stitch opines.

"What he said," Regina confirms with a sharp nod that just about make her throw up. Then she sighs again. "Fine, but just for a few days. And in the meanwhile, I expect you to be sitting on Jefferson."

"Count on it," Emma agrees before reaching out to grip Regina's forearm lightly in what's probably supposed to be a show of support meant to inspire confidence, but there's something about the whole touching thing between them these days so after a moment of the two of them just staring at each other like they each want to say something, Emma backs away.

"Fine. Stitch, clean up and then…then I suppose we can head back to the house; Mary Margaret did say that she'd bring by your ice cream once she managed to track it down. Which could take forever." She shakes her head like she can't quite believe she's saying this. She wonders again if maybe she is actually high from all of the medication that she's on.

But Henry and Emma are both grinning at her like they couldn't be happier if they tried to be, and her nose is twitching and her head hurts, and she knows that the cold meds she's been back-to-backing are wearing off.

Which means that this is all very real.

Which means that she has a houseguest.

Experiment 626.

TBC…