A/N – This is going to be a slow burn fic, so be warned, and as much as I've researched I can almost guarantee there will be some medical inaccuracy at some point. While it is loosely based around the premise of Me Before You by Jojo Moyes, it will not follow the exact story at all, as I do not agree with certain ethical choices the author made/messages she put out there, so for those of you that have read the book or seen the film, I promise you right now the ending will definitely not be the same as this fic does not include or even reference euthanasia/assisted suicide in any way since I personally don't think it's my place to even broach that subject.
1. A New Beginning
"Regina Locksley?"
"Speaking. Although it's Mills now, if you don't mind. Who is this?"
"Of course. Ms Mills, my name is Mary Margaret Nolan. I was wondering if you'd be free to come down to my office at the Town Hall for an interview tomorrow? Three o'clock. In regards to the caretaking position."
"That –" Regina looked at her watch and frowned. She should be picking Henry up from school at three. Granted, their house was about a five minute walk from the building, and he wouldn't have to cross any roads. He'd walked by himself all the time back in Portland, but... She sighed, resigned. "That will be fine."
"Great!" The woman on the other end of the phone chirped. Her voice was unsettlingly upbeat. "Thank you. I'll see you then."
"Right." Regina nodded distractedly as the line went dead.
She huffed, clicking her phone off and burying it back in her back. Right at the bottom. She was not running the risk of getting a call from anyone else today. She was not in the mood. Right now, all she wanted was to go home, cook dinner and sink into a nice hot bath.
Home.
The thought was beyond strange, this being her home. She'd grown up on the outskirts of Boston, in a pretentious upper-middle-class neighbourhood mostly filled with old white men, which had been hardly ideal, particularly on top of living with her mother, but she'd moved into the city to go to university as soon as she could. That was where she'd met Robin and the rest was history. They'd moved to Portland for his job, and lived there for... Well, until now.
She really needed to stop thinking about Robin.
Regina breathed in sharply, shifting her bag on her arm and focusing on the neat grey streets all around her. Barely a car had gone by in the last five minutes. To say that Storybrooke was small would be around the same level as saying the sun was hot. Storybrooke was tiny, the kind of town where everyone knew everyone's grandparents and baby stories and said hello in the street. It was almost twee, which would have made her vomit and stay far, far away a few years ago, but right now, for her and raising Henry and their fresh start... It was perfect.
She couldn't help looking around as she made her way back to the house, hands in her coat pockets, heels clicking on the pavement. There was the vintage-looking diner they'd driven past on the way, the squat sheriff's station, a friendly-looking comic book shop on the corner she made a note to tell Henry about. They could be happy here, she thought. They would be happy here. They had to be.
It only took a few minutes to get back to the house from the grocery store, and a few more minutes of irritably fumbling and struggling with her key and her handbag and the grocery bags before she actually managed to get into the house, but the instant she did, there was a high pitched yell and a pair of warm arms wrapped like a skinny vice around her middle. "Mommy!"
"Henry," Regina felt a smile curve across her lips, chest flooding with warmth at the sudden affection. Her son certainly hadn't been like this before the divorce. Maybe she had done something right. She breathed in and rolled her shoulders back, fixing on a bigger, more convincing smile for him.
"Mom, did you get the ice cream? Did you get it with the cookie pieces I like?" Henry detached himself from her, hundred-watt grin fixed on his face. "Can I have some for desert?"
"Only if you're a good boy and eat all your vegetables first." Regina allowed, looking down to his level. His hazel eyes were wide and bright, fixed on hers with the most adult seriousness in his expression. It made her heart tighten in her chest. This had to work. This had to work, for him. She conjured up another smile. "Were you a good boy for Aunt Kathryn today?"
"Of course I was!" Henry remarked, screwing up his face into a duh expression.
Regina raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with her friend, who was currently standing by the door. "Was he?"
Kathryn pretended to consider for a few seconds. "He was okay." She flashed a grin at the boy's outraged expression. "I think he deserves some ice cream."
"Very well." Regina turned her attention back to her son, bending down to look him in the eye. "Now. I'm going to go unpack the shopping. Why don't you put the TV on ready, and I'll be in with you in a minute. Okay?"
"Okay," Henry shrugged his narrow shoulders, charging off back to the living room. Just like that. Regina watched him dart around the door.
She motioned for Kathryn to follow her through to the kitchen, weaving a path between the half-unpacked boxes and lifting the grocery bags onto the counter. Regina sighed, tucking a dark wave of hair behind her ear as she slowly, methodically started filling the empty cupboards. "That woman Mary Margaret called today."
"Seriously?" Kathryn stared at her, brow furrowing. "What'd she say?"
"I have an interview tomorrow. Three o'clock." Regina told her, ducking to arrange the cleaning products in the cupboard under the sink.
"Wow. I mean, when I put you forward for the job I was hopeful, but I didn't think it'd be so soon." Kathryn shrugged, opening another grocery bag. "The Nolan family is kind of... I don't know. I'm sure it'll be fine. Where'd you want the pasta?"
"Top shelf." Regina nodded at the cupboard, depositing the bread in the bread box. Shooting a sideways glance at the blonde woman, Regina sighed and leaned against the kitchen side, suddenly excruciatingly self conscious. She cleared her throat. "Thank you, again, for doing all of this. You've got so much going on yourself, the last thing I want is to weigh you down with all my..." Fingers clenching distractedly against the kitchen counter, Regina glanced around at all the full bags and boxes. "Baggage."
"Regina. Regina, look at me." Kathryn's voice was sharp and precise. Regina sighed, clenching her jaw and turning to meet her friends wide gaze. "You do not have baggage. You are not being a pain. And I really don't mind helping out. You'd do the same for me." She paused, stare firmly fixed on the brunette's uncertain face. "Anyway, your kid is ridiculously polite. And smart. How'd you do that?"
"He takes after me," Regina deadpanned. She breathed in. "I suppose you wouldn't mind calling him tomorrow to make sure he gets home from school? My interview's at three."
"That is exactly the sort of thing I'm here for." Kathryn informed her earnestly. Regina watched her friend cautiously, gaze catching on her fidgeting hands. "If you don't mind me asking... Are you doing okay?" Her earnest blue stare sought Regina's.
Regina's heart sank a little. She breathed in sharply, staring at the bare fridge standing across the kitchen from her. Am I? Honestly... She wasn't sure. Leaning back against the counter, she felt her brows knit, searching for some way to explain it. The truth was, she and Robin had fallen out of love a long time before they signed the papers. The only second thought, the only tiny, niggling doubt lodged in the back of her mind was Henry.
She opened her mouth, trying to find the right words. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know." Regina paused, purposefully not looking at her. Prickling heat crawled up her neck. "I'm not sad about Robin, I don't miss him." She shrugged self-consciously and shook her head. "I just wonder sometimes, about Henry. Isn't it better for a child to be raised in a proper family unit? I mean –"
"That's about them." Kathryn interjected softly. "I asked about you."
Regina folded her arm across her chest, shifting uncomfortably against the counter. "I'm fine." Her voice sounded thick and strained in her ears, throat tight. "I have the house all sorted out, I'll get a new job... Honestly, I just want to put the whole thing behind me and move forward."
"The whole what?" Kathryn asked gently. "Marriage? Portland? Manager-dom?"
She thought back over the last ten years of her life. Snapping and strained in her office, surrounded by useless employees creeping around her like she was some kind of dictator, made of glass. Small talking with Robin's friends without even thinking whether she actually got along with them or just wanted to. Scrutinising Henry's oddly quiet behaviour and being called in for meeting after meeting with his teachers. Slowly becoming more and more stunted and polite with the man who was supposed to be her husband. Black coffee in the day and sleeping pills at night.
"Everything." Regina realised as the word left her lips. And she did: she wanted a complete fresh start. Storybrooke was a blank slate, and she intended to take full advantage of that.
"Okay." Her friend didn't look convinced. "Just don't turn into one of those weird single-mom recluses."
"I'll try." Regina replied dryly. She swallowed. "Speaking of, I have a son that requires me to watch Aladdin with him for the fiftieth time."
"I'll leave you in peace." Kathryn nodded.
Regina walked her to the door with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Kathryn was one of her old friends from college. They'd shared a few business classes, been close at the time, but they'd barely spoken since they both graduated and Regina moved to Portland with her boyfriend and Kathryn moved back to her tiny Maine hometown, which she evidently hadn't left just yet.
It had been an impulse call, when Regina picked up the phone after she'd signed the divorce papers and found herself dialling the blonde's number. She'd just needed to move out, to move away, far, far away from the rainy city that had somehow trapped her into the wrong life so slowly she'd barely noticed. Going back to Boston was option, but the thought of raising her son there by herself made her shudder. And she'd be obligated to see her mother every weekend if she lived that close. Somehow, the memory of Kathryn sitting in her dorm talking about growing up in Storybrooke had floated back to her. And here she was.
A fresh start. A blank slate. A new beginning.
-0-
The day of her interview, Regina woke up early as usual, had a brief moment of disorientation at waking up alone in an unfamiliar bedroom filled with boxes, got over it, made Henry breakfast, walked him to school, made sure he knew the way back for this afternoon, came home and lost a few hours fastidiously unpacking boxes of clothes and books and arranging ornaments.
After lunch she headed for the shower with a new sense of grim determination setting in. Gone were the doubt and discomfort she'd felt last night – today she had a job to land. Besides, this was her forte. Work, professionalism, interviews: those were things she knew how to handle, even if she was used to being on the other side of the desk.
Back in Portland, she'd been the floor manager of a banking company, and not a small one either. Of course, she'd worked a lot less after Henry was born, sharing her position with another man to compensate for Robin's busy hours. He was a park ranger. Park manager, he insisted. Honestly. Why she stayed with that man so long was beyond her.
Feeling increasingly confident, Regina went through the rigorous motions of showering, getting dressed, touching up her hair and makeup. There was something comforting in the routine of it that made her feel better. While she made herself presentable, she ran though everything that she knew about the position in her head.
If she got it, it would certainly be... New.
She'd never done care work before, and she couldn't say she'd be comfortable or even good at it, but Kathryn had insisted when she arrived a few days ago, an unemployed newly-single mother with too much experience, that the mayor's family were so desperate they were likely to hire anyone. From what she'd heard, the story was common knowledge. It wasn't often such drama happened in Storybrooke, so absolutely everyone knew it to precise detail.
The mayor's daughter, who worked at the sheriff's station with her father, had been involved in a car crash while running a case. The criminal and the other officer came out shaken but unscathed – the daughter, however, had suffered severe spinal injuries and ended up paralysed from the neck down. Apparently, the woman had become... Difficult, since the accident. That was the word Kathryn used, anyway. For her own peace of mind, she was trying not to dwell on that part too much.
When the time came, Regina buttoned on her best trench coat, hooked her bag over her arm, and made the short journey to the town hall. Inside, the building was clean and high-ceilinged, although the hideous bird paintings decorating the walls left something to be desired. She ignored them, breathing in and dusting her coat off as she crossed the entrance hall to the woman seated at the desk in the corner.
"Good afternoon," The woman beamed.
Regina fought the urge to scowl. Nobody who worked as a receptionist should be so chipper. The Portland receptionists were all appropriately jaded and monotonous. She shook her annoyance off, absently smoothing down her hair. "Yes, my name is Regina Mills. I believe I have an appointment with the mayor?"
"Of course." The woman pulled a folder closer in front of her, scanning clinically before standing sharply and moving out from behind the desk. "Right this way, Ms Mills."
Ms Mills. She'd asked the mayor to call her that yesterday. It should have taken her back to when she was younger, but instead she found it just made her feel... renewed. Strong. Locksley had never sounded right tacked on the end of her name after all. Regina followed the receptionist to the office door, and waited while she knocked, running through her vast list of credentials in her head.
"Ms Mills is here to see you," The receptionist called through the door.
Regina heard a noise like a chair scraping in the office. "Of course!" The voice from the other end of the phone piped from inside. "Send her in, please,"
The receptionist turned the doorknob and held it open for her. Regina steeled herself, drew in a breath and slipped inside, hearing the door close firmly behind her. Inside, the mayor – Mary Margaret, presumably – sat behind a desk, shuffling a stack of files. Regina's gaze flickered over her quickly; buttoned-up white cardigan, naturally smiling face, cute dark pixie-cut just starting to turn grey. She kept her features schooled into a polite smile as she went and sat down in the chair across from her.
"Good afternoon, hi!" Mary Margaret chirped, manically upbeat, even if the smile fixed on her face seemed a little strained to Regina. "So, first of all, welcome to our town! You just moved here, right?"
"Yes." Regina confirmed, folding her hands in her lap. "My son and I arrived a few days ago."
"Wonderful!" The mayor smiled. "Please, take your coat off, get comfortable. And if you don't mind me asking, how are you finding Storybrooke so far?"
"It's... Certainly a change from Portland." Regina managed, folding her coat over the back of her chair. She wished they could just stop all the small talk nonsense and get to the point, but... If this is what it takes. "I think we're going to be happy here."
"Well, I may be biased but as mayor I'm obligated to agree with you," Mary Margaret flashed a smile, which faded as fast as it had appeared. Her voice was smaller when she added, "It's a lovely place to raise a child."
"It does seem that way." Regina agreed. She was silently grateful the woman hadn't asked after Henry's father. Mary Margaret didn't seem the type to pry, thank God. She seemed nice enough, in that sickeningly over-friendly way Regina could never stomach.
"Good, good," The mayor sat up in her chair. She was still smiling, but there was something else shifting in her eyes now. It might have been awful but it made Regina more comfortable. She wasn't sure she could trust anybody who was entirely happy. "Let's get started, shall we? I got your CV through my email, and I have to say, Ms Mills, you are a very impressive woman."
"Thank you," Regina cut in out of instinct.
"But... Would you mind me asking why somebody like you is applying for a position like this?" Mary Margaret met her gaze, head tilted curiously. "You seem very professional, and I just can't help wondering..."
Regina stiffened in her seat, suddenly overly self-conscious on the label in her pencil skirt, the quality of the silk in her blouse. They'd certainly been well off in Portland, and she was an expert at keeping up appearances. She swallowed. "Yes, well," She straightened her spine, forcing herself to smile. "Moving here is a fresh start for me, if you will. Frankly, I need to support my son and if I can make a difference while doing that, all the better. I know I've had no experience in this line of work before, but I'm competent and willing to learn, Mrs Nolan."
"Oh, call me Mary Margaret, please." The mayor assured her. Her green eyes darted over Regina for a second, and she breathed in. "Look, Regina – can I call you Regina? – I'm going to be honest with you here. My daughter is a very – unhappy woman." Her voice was suddenly wavering, thick with restraint and grief. "She's not interested in anything or anyone, she doesn't want to take care of herself and my husband and I are so busy... I - We've tried everything, we don't know what to do."
Mary Margaret breathed in sharply, eyes closed for a second like she was trying not to cry. Pale fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Regina sat stiffly across from her, unsure what to do. "Miss Nolan, I –"
The mayor shook her head, pressing her lips together. "I am sorry, Regina. I'm just being silly." She breathed in slowly, before fixing her gaze back on the other woman. "We have people from the hospital that come out every day for the physical side and her medication, but the truth is, we need someone she can't get angry at because she's not related to, to get her up in the morning, make her food and make sure she eats it. Someone who won't back down or run away."
"I don't scare easily." Regina stated, not sure what she was getting herself into. Clearly.
"I should think not." A sad smile crept across the mayor's face. "In that case, would you like to discuss hours? Forgive me for being melodramatic, Regina, but you're our last hope."
"I think a woman in your position is entitled to be melodramatic." Regina lied. Then she shook anything unprofessional away. "I have to get my son to school at half eight every morning, I can be in by nine if that's necessary –"
"That would be perfect." Mary Margaret said. "And you'll be officially working part-time, flexi-hours, so we won't be taking you away from your child at all. You'll come into our house at nine, wake her up, make her breakfast, push her wherever she needs to go. And if it's not too much to ask, maybe just... Try to motivate her. Take her places, cheer her up. If it's not too hard, Regina, maybe try and show her she still has so much to live for."
"When do I start?" Regina asked.
"Is tomorrow alright with you?"