Sparrows and Nightingales

by minorshan

Magic is unpredictable now, but it still comes at a price. After the curse breaks, a desperate Regina casts a spell, accidentally erasing her memory back to the day Daniel died. But all of Storybrooke will pay this spell's price. Is it truly justice to punish someone for crimes they don't remember? Can Regina come to grips with what she became? In FTL, Cora's origins and beyond.

2. Lacuna Rising

Chapter 2: Lacuna Rising

Silence. She was alone. In a forest?

She rubbed her head. Where was she? Her head mind was foggy, but she did her best to reach back through the haze and remember how she got here. The last she could remember, she'd been standing in the stable with Daniel, moments away from striking out to build a new life together. And then she'd suddenly found herself falling backward, only to land in a heap on a forest floor. Alone.

"Mother? If you did this mother - show yourself!" She shook her head. How else could she have gotten here? Her mother must have discovered their plans and separated them somehow. The only bit she couldn't understand is why her mother would send her away to a forest instead of Daniel. Daniel! There was only one of two possibilities - she'd wanted Regina out of the way so she could eliminate the stable boy, or her mother's spell had gone awry. A desperate hope for the latter blossomed in her chest.

She quickly pulled herself to her feet, and began to brush the forest debris from her clothing in a rush. She was in such a rush that she'd almost not noticed what she was wearing. Gone was the heavy ermine lined cloak, and embroidered linen traveling dress, and in their place were clothes not unlike her riding outfit in cut, but made of a much lighter, foreign fabric. In place of her cloak she wore something that resembled a riding jacket, but instead of ending at her hips it draped down to her knees like a cloak, and sported lapels better suited to a gentleman's formal coat. The fabric resembled wool, but was far too light to be fashioned from that material. Despite this, it seemed remarkably good at insulating her from the brisk fall air.

She made to tuck the loose strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes while examining herself, only to find her long wavy locks were likewise transformed. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to take inventory and was shocked to find it trimmed to just above her shoulders. What witchcraft was this? Her mother would certainly never have allowed anyone to touch her regal cascade of hair. She pulled a lock of hair into view, surprised at how smooth and glossy it appeared, as if a strand couldn't have gone out of place even if she'd wanted it to.

Her heart was racing now, as if trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she found her feet moving before she had any idea where she was running to. She followed the only visible path; her feet on autopilot, her breath coming out in ragged white puffs as she fought to not completely panic. While she'd never had much experience in the woods - her mother forbade such boyish activities upon her tenth birthday - Regina knew enough to stay on established paths and listen for water, for both eventually lead back to civilization. When she'd reach the base of the large hillock she paused, as the path split north and south, and listened intently. Luckily, her noisy traversing had quieted all surrounding wildlife, and it wasn't long until she'd picked up on what sounded like rushing water. "North it is, then," she declared to herself with a nod.

With a direction now chosen, Regina forced herself to slow down and conserve her energy. For all she knew she was many a day's walk from the nearest village. As she trudged along she realized that the forest looked vaguely familiar - much like a back road on the outskirts of her family's estates that she enjoyed riding through when she wished to be alone - but not.

The palpable deja vu abruptly ended ten minutes later as she came to the end of the path, only to find a large road, paved with one endlessly long strip of black stone. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was simply finely ground stone, and what smelled vaguely like tar from the beaches of the Endless Ocean. Two yellow stripes were painted down the middle of the strip. But that wasn't even the most puzzling piece to the puzzle. Sitting on the side of the road was a large metal... something. She took a few steps nearer and realized that the object's middle section resembled a convoluted carriage - like a reproduction created by someone who have never seen a carriage, and had relied solely on a child's description. Seats faced the wrong way, there was no space for a coachman, and no cockeye to attach horses to. The sheer weight of all that metal and glass, not to mention the strange, thick black wheels, ruled out it simply being a strange royal litter.

Regina rubbed her hands together, seeking to stave off the cold biting at her fingertips, before stuffing them into the newly discovered pockets of her strange cloak-like coat. When her fingers met with metal in the right pocket she suddenly felt foolish for not checking to see if she was carrying anything on her person, and set to work searching the pockets of her foreign clothes. Out came a set of several small keys. They were much more blunt and thin than ones she was familiar with, but they were clearly still keys. One, which was topped by a hard black grip, was emblazoned with the same three-prong symbol perched on the section that made up the 'nose' of the oddly face-like front end of the metallic monstrosity. She shrugged, realizing that she had no other clues, and went to work looking for a matching lock. She quickly noticed that the doors had what appeared to be slits, next the handles, and slid the key in to the door nearest the area adorned with what looked like a ship's wheel.

A loud sound, not unlike the slide of a well-oiled deadlock, sounded as she turned the key and she couldn't help her startled jump. Regina found her circumstances beyond unnerving but hadn't realized just how wound up she was until that moment. She took a deep breath and slowly lifted up the handle. A quiet pop, and the door came slightly ajar. Again, she discovered that despite its metallic appearance, the door was far lighter than she'd expected. She wondered absently if she hadn't been deposited to an another land by a realm jumper. She'd heard tales of strange lands where the food would make you grow or shrink, or one where horses were constantly changing colors in a kaleidoscopic fashion. It would certainly explain a lot.

Regina slid onto the leather seat and began searching for any clues that might shed some light on her situation and was quickly rewarded with the discovery of a large, black leather satchel. It was surprisingly empty for its size, and what contents there were, were largely impersonal and mystifying. Finally, she undid the strange buttons on a folded container that resembled the leather cover for a small book, but without any pages. Inside this case she found what could only be described as the most finely detailed portrait of herself - or harsher version of herself that mirrored her mother - she'd ever seen, on what looked like a social calling card. The small rectangular card was covered in information that matched her description to a tee. At the top it simply read "Maine Driver's License". She blinked, perplexed. Why did she need a document to let her be a carriage driver? Why was she a carriage driver? And what was a 'Maine'? As much as she hated to admit it, she was scared. So scared, she would actually welcome her mother's presence at the moment.

The only other things she found were more small cards, and rectangular green and white papers adorned with stylized woodcut portraits she was much more familiar with. She stuffed the strange documents back into the satchel when she found nothing else and slung it over her shoulder as she exited the metallic carriage. As mystifying as it all was, everything pointed to these objects being hers, and at the very least the leather satchel would be useful should her journey prove long. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she began to make her way down the road, still heading north; the fear, confusion, and independence making her feel more alive than she had her entire life.

The walk proved blessedly shorter than she'd initially feared as she heard the din of a village about an forty-five minutes later. Perking her ears, she tried to make out something familiar, but the sounds were unlike anything she'd heard. Dull rumbles mixed with what sounded like a bestial roars, and strange music drifted out. And once again, as she followed the final bend in the road, she was flabbergasted by what she found around the corner. Strange buildings of wood, stone, and glass sat along the roadside, and people travelled along on slate gray paths that lined the edges of the black tar road. Many, many more of the metallic coaches travelled along the road, none exactly the same as the other, save for the fact that they moved without horses. The people themselves were dressed as strangely as herself, a realization that both comforted and scared her.

Was this some kind of wizard's community? Had her mother finally had enough and banished her here? Unlikely, with the king's marriage proposal looming. There certainly seemed to be a plethora of magic being used to move things and make signs glow. The sound of clock chimes, reassuringly familiar, rang out across what appeared to be the town square and she looked up to see a familiar looking clock tower. It was then that she noticed the passersby. Although she was dressed oddly, she thought her clothes conformed to the style favored in this hamlet, so why the stares? No. Not just stares. Glares.

A twinkle of anger or disgust clouded the face of every person she passed. What was she to them? "Excuse me..." She raised a hand to young couple walking toward her but the woman shook her head,while the man simply ignored her.

She tried again with the next person. "Pardon me..."

And again."I'm sorry to bother you, but..."

With each person that gave her the cold shoulder the less fearful and more frustrated she became. Finally, she found herself standing outside a building labelled as the Sheriff's office and decided to try her luck there. Certainly a man of the law wouldn't refuse helping her.

She pushed open the door and made her way down an empty hallway, somehow lit without fire, and peered into the largely glass doors of the first room on her right. Sure enough, a man clad in what she presumed to be the leather gear of an experienced tracker stood talking with a blonde woman clad in a red leather jacket, breeches tucked into her knee-high brown boots. Normally, she hated to interrupt, but excused her rude behavior to herself, given her situation. Nonetheless, she lightly rapped her knuckles on the glass pane as she opened it, finding it to feel much sturdier than she'd been expecting.

Regina put on her best apologetic smile as she closed the door behind her and the leather-clad pair noticed her entrance. "I'm sorry - I don't mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you might be able to help me," she began, dipping her head into a slight bow. "This is going to sound crazy, but I'm not sure how-"

The blonde threw up a hand, in a motion for Regina to stop, cutting her off. "What are you doing here?" Her expression, along with the man's, reflected the same contempt for her as the villagers. Perhaps they simply didn't like outsiders?

"As I said," she began, a little flustered, but continued her way across the room. "This may sound strange, but I don't know how I got here." She turned to the whisker-stubbled face of the man. "And I didn't know where else to go. Please, Sheriff, if I could have just a moment of your time..."

While the man looked perplexed, the blonde had crossed her arms. "What are you playing at, Regina?"

Regina was taken aback. "How do you know my name?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? This is how you plan on getting a lighter sentence?" She rolled her eyes and Regina felt hostility bubble up for a moment in her stomach. How could this woman presume to insinuate she was a common criminal?

"Did my mother put you up to this?" Regina asked, suspiciously.

"I'm serious, Regina," the blonde practically growled.

Regina balled her hands into fists at her side, willing herself to calmness. "I'm trying to talk to the Sheriff, so if you don't mind-"

"Fine. Have it your way." replied the blonde. "So talk to me, already."

Regina blinked, surprised by this little revelation. Although strange, the concept of a female sheriff was by far from the strangest things she'd encountered today. "Oh, I'm sorry - I didn't realize. I just assumed that he -" she cut herself off, flustered. "My sincere apologies, miss..." Her tone clearly indicated that she was prompting the sheriff to introduce herself, but all she got was the woman and man exchanging flabbergasted looks.

The sheriff shook her head. "Well, that's a new low. Pretending to, what? Have amnesia? Or maybe its like the curse boomeranged back at you and now your memory has been erased? Come off it, Regina, or so help me-"

Regina flung her hands into the air. "Come off what? I ask for help, you're immediately suspicious; I ask for a simple introduction and I'm..." She shook her head. "A liar? What the hell is going on? What is this place?" Her shoulders slumped and she was now fighting back tears. She was alone, an unwelcome stranger in the strangest place she's ever seen, and scared to death that she'd just wandered into a trap. Why else would people she'd never seen before in her life react so venomously? She looked back up at the other woman. "Just... can you just tell me where I am?" Her voice was tired and small and suddenly incredibly vulnerable.

It was behavior Emma had never seen Regina display. Not even in her desperation to save Henry had she seemed so out of sorts. Could it be that this wasn't an act? If it was, she'd never seen a better one. "Storybrooke. But so help me, if you're acting - trying to make me look like a fool - I'll make you yearn for the days that cutting down your apple tree was the worst I could do."

Regina frowned in confusion, but without a hint of hostility. "My apple tree? Nobody has cut it down... have they?"

"I think she's serious," said August, finally. If there was one person better at spotting lies than Emma, it was him. And he couldn't remember seeing her ever so genuine.

Emma had come to the same observation, but it wasn't in her nature to trust immediately, and certainly not with this woman who had caused so much grief to so many people. "And you say you don't know how you got here?" she asked.

Regina, eyes now red-rimmed, looked up from the floor. "No..." She looked so small, and lost, she almost didn't look like the same woman to Emma.

"But you know who you are?" Regina nodded in affirmation of Emma's question.

"Then, what's the last thing you remember?" asked August.

"I was in my family's stables. I was was getting ready to..." she paused, and to Emma's shock, actually blushed. "... elope. We were talking, tacking the horses, and then suddenly I fell, and was here. Well, not here - I was in the forest outside town at some well. I followed the path back to the road and that road led me to this... Storybrooke you said?"

Emma nodded.

"Was his name Daniel?" another woman's voice asked from behind Regina.

She turned around to find a pretty young woman with creamy white skin and hair in the style of a pixie. Next to her stood a young boy who couldn't be older than 11, holding a wicker basket. "Y-yes. How did you know?" she asked guardedly. "Do you know my mother?"

The woman nodded silently and made her way closer, the boy on her heels, and seemed to be studying Regina in a way she found strangely unnerving for such a harmless looking woman. There was a fiery strength inside her that belied her innocent looking features. The boy looked curious, but suspicious. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Regina knelt down to his eye level and raised an eyebrow, amused by the boy's brashness. It reminded her of herself at that age. "That's what I'd like to know." She cocked her head to one side. "And what's your name?"

Henry's eyes widened as he realized there was zero recognition in her eyes. She really, truly, didn't remember him. "Uh, Henry..."

Regina extended her hand and gave him a warm smile through her flushed face. "Oh! That's my father's name!"

"I know..." replied Henry, not knowing what else to say.

Regina stood up and furrowed her brow. "How do you know that? Who are you people?" She began to back away, but her thigh bumped up against a metal desk.

"We've met before, Regina," replied Snow with calm suspicion.

"When?" asked Regina, her voice tightened by nerves.

Snow shook her head. She had been a child at the time, but there was no mistaking it. This was a version of Regina that had disappeared the night Daniel died. "A long, long, time ago."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand. Are you from a neighboring kingdom, or perhaps one of the miller families my mother grew up with?"

Snow took a deep breath, her brow knotted, and bit her bottom with for the briefest second. "My name is Snow. Snow White." She gave Regina what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Rather than look surprised, or frightened, Regina's expression simply became more clouded in confusion. "Like King Leopold's daughter? Was she named after you? Because if you know him, perhaps you can show me the same kindness he is renowned for and help me? Your venerable sheriff doesn't seem interested," she replied, waving her hand vaugely in the direction of Emma and August.

Emma studied the woman. That haughty spark was still there, but it lacked any of the devious venom of Regina's usual insults. It was more like the attitude of entitlement she'd seen in teenage girls from families with more money than time for good parenting. Still, in spite of everything she'd seen the last week, she had a hard time believing that this wasn't simply another one of the mayor's schemes.

Snow, on the other hand, had known Regina well; from before her heart had been completely rotted away under the gangrenous effects of bitterness left to fester. Somehow, something behind her eyes made her seem younger, despite looking exactly as Regina had for two decades now. "No... I'm the Kig's daughter Snow. I know it's hard to believe, but look around you. We're not in our realm anymore. And it's been quite some time since the day you saved me from that runaway steed."

Regina's eyes became saucer-like in size, and again she attempted to back away, more quickly this time, which simply ended with her falling back to sit on the desk. The room was silent with Snow, Emma, and August exchanging looks; communicating what, Regina wasn't sure. The voice of the little girls she'd saved just days ago echoed in her mind, and the voice of this woman, claiming to be one in the same, echoed back in answer. The tone, the lilt, it was identical - the only difference being that the second was pitched down slightly with maturity. Regina swallowed hard and shook her head. It couldn't be.

The woman calling herself Snow White reached out a reassuring hand, which Regina shrank back from. "I don't know what's happened to you, but we'll figure it out-" She finally let her hand drop and her expression of concern was a mirror for the little girl's, although transformed by time and age. Her eyes sparkled just the same, but tempered by the loss of innocence suffered in adulthood.

"Do we have to?" Emma shot back, half-seriously.

"Emma!" Snow scolded.

The blonde shot Snow a devilish smirk. "I know, I know. It's what decent people do. I told Regina as much when I saved her from that fire. It was a joke."

"No! This is some kind of trick! I've never been in a fire!" She narrowed her eyes at Snow. "You're her sister or long lost mother or something!" She pulled herself to her feet, not turning her back to the from the group as she used her hands to guide her as she scrambled around the desk, and only stopped when she'd positioned herself in such a way that it acted a a barrier between herself and the strange group. "Are you hoping to ransom me off? Because believe me," she laughed with false bravado. "Nothing parts my mother with her gold. She'll rip you apart with her dark magic before you see a silver!"

This 'Snow' remained infuriatingly calm and consoling. "I assure you, I am her."

"Prove it, then!" Regina shot back as she began to draw up her well-practiced defenses, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. She glanced back down at the boy, whose face merely reflected a fascination with her. He was the only person she'd met so far in this bizarre hamlet who had yet to regard her with any kind of hard expression. Who brought a child to a kidnapping, anyway?

The blonde, Emma, planted her hands on her hips. "Why am I not surprised she's insulting us even without her memory?" she deadpanned. "I mean, seriously, give us a little credit. Who kidnaps someone just to leave them in the woods, expecting her to find her way back to her kidnappers?" She rolled her eyes.

Regina scowled at this, not appreciating the tone, even if she did the logic. Whoever these people were, whatever had happened, it was unlikely they were a part of it. She turned back to raven-haired woman. "I'm waiting! You can't expect me to take your story on faith alone."

Snow sighed and thought back. It had been nearly forty years ago, or about twenty, depending on how you counted it, and while it was the key event in her life, she didn't remember most of it anymore. As far as she could tell, this Regina didn't seem to resent Snow, so whatever her memories, they seemed to end before Daniel's murder. Finally, she settled on what she hoped would convince her former stepmother. "The night I... interrupted Daniel's proposal - and I do apologize for that," she added with a melancholic smile. "When I ran, and you'd caught up, you explained to me how love works. That it was magic - magic that creates happiness." She tilted her head to one side, searching Regina's face. "You know we were alone, in the dead of night - how else could I know that?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat, not just at the exchange no one but Snow should have known about, but also at the woman's face. She no longer wore her hair in childish ringlets held back by a bow, but it was the same tint of pure ebony. Her face was still cherubic and fair, but matured, including a few lines around the eyes. But really, truly striking, were her eyes. That expression, that unique mix of kindness, worry, and pleading, so distinct on the little girl, was a mirror image in this woman's eyes. "But... how...?" The words spilled from her lips before a coherent thought had truly been formed.

Snow, feeling more comfortable with approaching the confused woman, stepped forward, around the desk, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's what we're going to find out." She gently guided Regina to a chair, who promptly sat as her legs seemed to go rubbery beneath her.

Regina looked up at Snow, finding it suddenly strange to have the young girl standing so tall above her, treating her more like a mother than her own ever had. Her mind's eye flickered back and forth randomly between seeing her as that girl, and as a stranger, like meeting a someone who strongly resembled a close friend. "Is this some strange new realm... or... I don't know," she ran her hands through her hair, elbows plated firmly on the desk. "Were you cursed to lose your childhood?"

"No..." Snow chuckled. "Well, not any more than anyone else is by father time." She pulled up a chair and sat herself across from Regina.

"Then I was sent, or brought to the future?" she asked. She watched as Snow dug into the small satchel she'd been carrying on her shoulder and pulled out a small dark pink disc that looked like it was made from pearl. Clearly, she still had the wealth of a royal to have such a thing, even if her strange clothing was simple and unadorned.

"Also not any more so than anyone else." Snow popped the disc open and held it up, facing the inside toward Regina. "It's been decades since your last memory happened. But you lived through all of them. You just seem to have forgotten it..."

A glint of light from the pink disc caught Regina's eye and she suddenly realized Snow was holding up a small mirror. She leaned forward, realizing the woman wanted to her to take it. Without knowing exactly why, Regina's stomach fluttered nervously as she brought it up to look at her reflection. The woman looking back brought the same confusion of images to her mind as integrating you Snow and grown Snow had just moments before. It was her face - her shocked, frightened face - looking back at her, but more angular than the last one she'd seen that morning. Or what she remembered as that morning.

Her fingers touched her lips, stained a dark, almost blood-red plum color she'd never have thought to choose, then made their way along her cheekbone as she tilted her head to one side, tracing the dusky rose blush that almost blended into the smokey hue dusting her eyelids. She followed her finely shaped eyebrows that had been plucked into a more dramatic shape than she was used to. It was then that she noticed the fine frown lines creasing her forehead and slight crows feet at the corners of her eyes. They were, or course, masterfully concealed by a fine layer of makeup, but you can't completely hide imperfection from the one person who saw your face everyday. The makeup suddenly felt suffocating, now that she was aware of it, to the young woman who'd preferred a fresh, minimalistic approach to beauty. She ran her hands through her hair only to notice how her nails, always elegantly manicured, now featured a clear glossy film that made them glimmer like jewels. The overall effect was one that made her appearance harsher than she'd ever thought it possible for her to look. Sure, she had her outbursts, but she never excused herself for such petulant behaviour, and would apologize when she'd calmed down. But there was a predatory look to the woman staring back at her in the mirror, even in her current vulnerable state. A strangely familiar predatory look about the dramatic makeup that she couldn't quite place. And then it hit her with a flash: her mother.

She doubled over from the realization - a nightmare come to life - dropping the looking glass. "I look like... I - I - I've become my mother!" Suddenly, a pulse of purple energy exploded from what felt like a rock in her stomach, which didn't seem to do much except send a whoosh of air with it, ruffling the hair and clothing of the people surrounding her.

While this simply startled everyone else, raising Emma and Snow's hackles in particular, Regina felt her stomach drop out from under her, and her vision began to spot as she suddenly found it difficult to catch her breath. 'Magic! I did magic! Dark magic! Oh, gods, she turned me into her! Into one of those dark things! What part of my soul did she steal to turn me?' She gulped at the air like a fish in a net, finally able to get a few words out. "Gods! I've - I've turned - into - my mother!" Her lungs were working double time to get air, but seemed to make no progress, and she could barely see through the sparkling spots that danced across her vision, when a pair of warm hands gently pressed into her shoulder, guiding her to lay back. She pushed back instinctively against what felt like someone restraining her, but found it impossible to resist in her current state. "Hey... hey, just relax," a female voice said gently, but firmly, as the hands guided her back insistently. "You need to calm down, and breathe through your nose. You're hyperventilating." Regina's head reeled, but she obeyed, and quickly started to feel like she would, indeed recover. As her head cleared, though eyes still shut, she suddenly found herself embarrassed at the sight she must be; a silly thought she realized, but one that couldn't be helped as a result of a lifetime of aristocratic grooming. She let out a bitter chuckle that came out strangled with her gulps for air.

She heard the little boy, Henry, step up beside her and then the rustle of heavy paper, which found its way into her hands. "Here, breathe into this," he instructed. Regina pried her eyes open, puzzled by the request, but still not confident she wouldn't faint if she moved too much or tried to speak.

"It'll help calm your breathing," offered Emma, who still had one hand on her shoulder as she knelt beside her. "Seal it over your nose and mouth." Too disoriented to argue, Regina placed the crumpled brown paper bag over her face did as instructed. She let her eyes close again, and did her best to slow her breathing. The bag was oddly comforting as it carried the sweet residual aroma of apples and cinnamon, reminding her of her childhood nursemaid's famous apple pies.

As her breath finally seemed to be settling back into a normal rhythm, Snow returned, whom Regina hadn't noticed missing until that moment, with a tall glass of water, which she settled down on the nearby desk. Emma moved herself to stand behind Snow, giving Regina her personal space now that the episode had passed. She glanced at Henry, who seemed to be searching her face for something, as August rested a leather gloved hand on his shoulder in a familial gesture.

It was Emma who finally broke the silence as Regina's hands, still holding the bag, came to rest in her lap. "Hey - don't be too embarrassed. A lot of women I know freaked out when they realize they've turned into their mother," joked Emma. "Usually not so dra-"

The homey aroma of pie and warmth of kindness were suddenly turned putrid as the sickening revelation about herself came back to the forefront of her mind, and her body didn't seem to want it there any more than Regina did. "I think I'm going to be sick!" she mumbled as she doubled over, bringing the bag back to her face. She dry heaved a few times as she felt a delicate hand softly make circles on her back.

When the feeling had passed she took a couple deep breathes and pulled herself upright again. Emma gave her an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you..." she shrugged. "You know." She held out a piece of damp white fabric. "Wet nap?"

Though mystified by what that last pair of words meant, Regina took the cloth and used it to gently dab at the cold sweat droplets which had formed along her hairline. "Thank you," she replied in a manner more genuine than Emma had ever seen. Snow, too, had only seen her so once before - when she'd agreed to keep Regina's secret. A pang of regret seized her for a moment, but it was an issue she had dealt with emotionally years ago, and the feeling quickly passed.

Regina, for her part, was still finding it hard to find footing enough to even begin to get a handle on it all. "It's alright... I... I think it's just everything. I feel like I'm losing my mind..." she said softly. "I don't normally fall apart at the drop of a hat."

Snow nodded with an understanding smile. "Well, it's not every day you wake up in a strange realm and find out that the last thing you remember happened decades ago."

Regina looked down at the damp cloth in her hand, surprised to find it largely turned a dark peach color - clearly from the makeup she could still feel sitting on her face like a mask. "You don't happen to have a wash basin nearby do you?"

Emma nodded. "Something like that. Henry, why don't you show Regina how to use the sink," she said, nodding her head towards a door labeled with a white human figure against a blue placard.

"Sure!" The boy took her hand as if it were the most routine gesture between them in the world and she stood up to follow him.

When the pair was out of earshot, Emma, August, and Snow quickly fell into a huddle. "Well?" asked Emma. "Crocodile tears, or...?" Of the three, she had little experience with magic, and even August had seen the Queen before the curse, even if he was just a child.

"She seems... like I remember her," replied Snow, while August simply shrugged.

"But she's Regina," said Emma. Little else needed to said to make the argument for deception.

Snow nodded and sighed. "Still, I've never seen her lose her composure like that. I don't think she'd know how to fake it."

"Well, she could have cast a memory spell on herself," offered August.

"And made herself innocent..." Emma added slowly. "We go lightly on her - or don't punish her at all. Her spell times out, she gets her memory back, and she gets away with everything, scot-free! Uh, that's something a spell can do, right?"

Snow sighed. "Properly crafted, they can do anything... Still, we can't just automatically assume she did this on purpose - or even did this at all."

August nodded. "Rumplestiltskin would certainly like her out of the way for whatever it is he's planning."

"We don't know that she's in the way either," replied Emma. She turned to Snow. "We can't just give her the benefit of the doubt here - she nearly killed Henry, she destroyed our family, not to mention hundreds of other people's happy endings! Even if she doesn't remember doing it - she still did it!"

"Believe me, Emma, I know," Snow answered, her voice low and dark. "But I won't just blindly unleash vengeance. I nearly lost myself to that darkness. I would have, if it hadn't been for your father." The illustration of 'Dark Snow', as Henry had nicknamed her, in the book came to mind. It was the period of time when Snow had given into dark magic to forget James; consumed by revenge, she'd lost the ability to feel all forms of love. Emma had never fallen that far, though she'd danced along the edge, but then she also didn't have magic to interfere with the natural order of things. Snow shook her head. "If she's carrying the heart of the young woman I once knew, I won't have a hand in inflicting any more sorrow on her. I can't." Her voice was rough, and Emma knew that however they handled this, it would have to be with kid gloves until they figured out what was truly going on.

Regina followed Henry into a small room where he pushed a small lever in the wall, next to the door and the space was suddenly illuminated with a sterile white light. She looked around, finding herself even more disoriented than when she'd wandered into town. There seemed to be a giant chamber pot built into the wall, which she absently wondered how that could possibly be sanitary. A single chrysanthemum sat in a waterless glass vase on top of a rectangular porcelain box that appeared to be part of the chamber pot unit, and fixed to the wall next to the commode was a roll of some extraordinarily thin white fabric.

"You probably didn't have indoor plumbing back home, huh?" asked Henry cheekily.

She looked down at the boy who she began to realize she was strangely fond of. She assumed she must have known him, but wondered how that could possibly be if she'd become everything she hated about her mother. She shook her head. "Uh, no. What's plumbing?"

"Well, uh..." Henry wrinkled his nose. He hadn't anticipated her actually asking, and his adoptive mother had always been quite strict about talking about 'unpleasant' things. Normally any discussion of such things would have brought up her ire, but he hoped this Regina wouldn't be so uptight. One way or another, she had asked. "Ok, this is the soap," he said as he pushed a button on white box and pink liquid drizzled out to pool on the floor." He his contorted into a grimace, expecting to be yelled at, was simply met with a patient silence from Regina. He was convinced - there was no way she remembered Storybrooke! "You should normally catch that with your hand." He reached up to a grey, oddly shaped box that had brown, haphazardly torn paper dangling out the bottom. He push a handle on the side and more paper was rolled out. "These are paper towels to dry your hands with." He ripped off a piece and bent down to clean up the mess, threw the soapy paper into the trash, and pointed at the other furniture in the room. "That's a toilet. You use it to... you know.. relieve yourself." He turned his attention to the washing basic affixed to the wall. "And this is a sink - they're both connected to pipes that bring water to them, and then flush away the dirty water."

Regina sneered her upper lip. "Not into the same river that's feeding this, I hope!"

"I don't think so... but I'm only ten. Anyway, it's clean enough to drink from the tap, so it's not gross or anything." He reached out and turned a metal handle, and to Regina's amazement, water did in fact immediately flow out. It certainly looked clean. The boy shut it off. "The one on the left is hot water, and the one on the right is cold."

"Magic is certainly used ubiquitously in this land," announced Regina.

Henry cocked his head to one side. "I don't know what ubick... er, whatever that word means, but that's not magic. There was no magic in Storybrooke up until about a week ago, actually!"

Regina nodded. "Quite clever craftsmen you have here, then. But why would magic suddenly come to this land?"

Henry's previously bright expression darkened and he looked away. "I... probably should let Emma and Snow explain that to you. You're probably not ready for that yet, anyway."

Regina regarded the boy with a thoughtful expression but didn't press the issue. He was just a child, and pressuring him simply wouldn't have been fair. Regina looked back up and into the mirror, and only then realized that she'd been crying, and quickly looked back down. She found herself feeling retroactively exposed, despite being alone, at this revelation. She couldn't look at that reflection and everything it implied - her past and the present. She sighed. "Hey, Henry, can I have a moment to myself? I need to think about some things."

Henry promptly walked deeper into the cramped room, climbed up on the toilet, and tried to jiggle the small window pane that ran along near the ceiling. Satisfied, he hopped back down. At her questioning gaze he shrugged. "Sorry. Nothing personal." With that, he exited and Regina closed the door behind him.

For everything Snow had been through, Emma knew there was a still a small piece of irrational guilt she carried - the guilt of causing not just Daniel's execution, but every consequence from that event that followed, down to Emma's own loss of innocence. And she wasn't going to stoke that fire if she could help it. "Alright. So, what do we do then?"

"Why not bring her to the Blue Fairy?" Henry piped in. The group, surprised by his sudden appearance turned around to find alone. "You know, Mother Superior? In the book it says she can smell dark magic."

"Henry, where's Regina?" Emma asked.

"Oh, she's still in the bathroom. She said she wanted to be alone for minute." He shrugged, but the adults all looked alarmed. "Don't worry - the window is painted shut, I checked. She's not getting out without making a lot of noise. It's not like she can get out of Storybrooke, anyway."

August and Snow laughed as Emma shook her head. "You're too smart for your own good, kid."

"On both counts," added August.

Henry beamed. "Thanks!" He then paused. "Uh, what was the other?"

"The Blue Fairy," said Snow. "You're right. She should be able to sense any enchantment cast for nefarious purposes."

"Even here?" asked Emma. She was barely familiar with the 'rules' of magic, let alone how it behaved here, which even the experts were still trying to figure out.

"Probably," said Snow. "It's somewhere to start, in any case."

With that, the issue seemed settled and Emma was struck, as she had been many times since the 'awakening', at the subtle differences between Mary Margaret and Snow. Snow's natural leadership and decisiveness had been dampened under the curse, turning an incredibly strong woman into a what amounted to a the indecisive best friend you'd see in a hackneed romantic comedy. Only under the most extreme of circumstances had she seen Mary reveal the inner strength that could never be erased - only suppressed. Just as James' natural kindness had been warped into a cowardly penchant for avoiding conflict at all costs.

She sighed, looking down into the washing basin, or sink, as the boy had called it, and turned the handle as he had. Water once again flowed and cautiously ran her fingers under it. It was icy cold, like a stream in winter. Remembering what Henry had said about hot water she turned the other handle, and as she'd guessed, the two streams mixed to create a pleasantly warm temperature. 'Well, I could certainly get used to thing,' she thought as she cupped her hands under the stream, quickly filling them.

She splashed the water on her face, trying to focus on the task as a way to pull herself together. She repeated the action, this time adding a dollop of the pink liquid soap to her palm before the water and briskly rubbed her hands on her face. She rinsed and forced herself to check her reflection. Water droplets hung from the tip of her nose, chin, and eyelashes, but traces of the eyeshadow and lip color remained. She looked like a half-drowned cat. Frowning, she collected a large wad of paper towel, loaded it with soap, and soaked it through to make a rudimentary sponge. She scrubbed with a purpose now, determined to erase as much of her future self from her appearance as possible, finding the sting cleansing for her skin and her soul. She looked up again, and seeing that the face looking back was almost the one she felt she should be seeing, patted her face dry. She then ran wet fingers through her short hair, pushing it back, away from her face. It was too short to braid back as she was accustomed to, so it would have to do for now.

She turned to the door, lifted her hand to the handle, and froze when skin touched metal. Even though the small room was just as strange as anything on the other side of that door, here she was queen of her own little one-room kingdom. Outside, was a strange world she knew as much about as a newborn fawn does the forest, and her knees felt just as wobbly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would have to so just as the fawn did and learn to walk before she could even stand. Dread, nonetheless, cast a shadow over her heart. She couldn't have explained had someone asked her to, but she had a feeling that some terrible truth awaited her out there - and she'd always been remarkably intuitive. 'I could be wrong,' Regina told herself. 'They seem happy enough. So maybe my instinct is wrong.'

She hoped she was wrong.

"There's a first time for everything, right?" she said quietly to no one. She thought of Daniel - was he here? Had he awoken somewhere else, inside town perhaps? Surely she couldn't be alone. Finally, she pursed her lips and forced the spent breath from her lungs. Eyes snap open. Hand pushed down. The door opens smoothly, despite the squeal of protest. 'You and me both,' she thought in imaginary commiseration with the wooden plank.

She wasn't surprised when she found the group, the only people she knew in this world, fall silently and turn to look at her. She'd been the center of attention many times in her life when entering a room, and she'd enjoyed it. But this wasn't a ball or cotillion, and suddenly having all eyes on her was not just unappealing, but rather intimidating. She hadn't the fine clothes, nor gold, that brought respect and obedience in her realm, and consequently couldn't make them tell her what they'd been talking about. She knew it had to be about her; the question was - what? Still, she did as her mother had taught her - to the point of it becoming reflex - and drew herself up, gathering what was left of her confidence and paired it with the practiced mask of indifference she'd developed to deal with her mother.

The thought of what Regina had done to her family made Emma's blood boil.

Yet, as the latch clicked and Regina reappeared, face cleansed of any makeup, and rosy cheeked - likely from scrubbing, and Emma was suddenly struck with the reality that the woman hadn't always been that venomous, power-hungry snake she'd known, any more than Emma herself had been born guarded and aloof. Evil wasn't born - it was made. She'd long believed that, having seen so many sweet, lonely kids turned into dangerous, self-serving teens by the system; Regina had tested that conviction like no other - and that included Henry's father.

The brunette regarded the group, tucking her hair behind her ears, away from her face, and Emma studied her in return. She watched the woman, and seeing that she was being studied, quickly threw up a guarded facade. It wasn't the classic arrogant, calculating, Regina stance; it was defensive, not offensive. Watching this little hint of Regina's internal monologue, Emma suddenly felt as if she'd learned more about the bitter woman in the past ten minutes than she had in the last nine months.

And then, as if a fog had parted from Emma's view, the woman Regina could have been, had circumstances been different. was revealed. Just as the curse had suppressed the best qualities, and enhanced the weaknesses, of Storybrooke's citizens, the tragedies of Regina's life had been lovingly cultivated to lead her down a dark path, guided by an evil green thumb, until her soul bore nothing but the most poisonous fruit. 'Well, they do say that manure makes the best fertilizer,' Emma thought to herself. Sarcasm aside, she couldn't help the faint flicker of pity for the heart of the young woman who stood before her. Despite the false bravado she was putting on, without the makeup, and her hair slightly mussed, Regina looked every inch the fresh-faced young woman who had saved Snow rather than a calculating mayor or evil queen.

Regina took an few steps forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Deciding what to do with me?" She asked lightly.

"As a matter of fact, yes," replied Emma. "You ever hear of the Blue Fairy?"

Regina raised an eyebrow. "The Reul Ghom? Only be reputation. I've called for her before; when I was a child, but... she never deigned to answer," she finished, her tone quietly sad, with just the glimmer of a thread of bitterness. Snow's brow knit at this, but she remained silent. Regina looked back up. "So, I'm afraid that unless you know where to find her..." She shrugged.

"As a matter of fact, she's just down the street," replied Emma.

Regina shook her head. "Well, if I'd known she had a house, I would have come calling years ago!" she she remarked flippantly, in an attempt the lighten the mood - the last thing she wanted was to be pitied. The laugh from Snow was payment enough for the effort, as the little girl she'd only just met reappeared in that laugh, but her stomach immediately flipped yet again with the reminder of how far from home she'd suddenly found herself.

"We're kind of at a loss here as to how to start, so we-" Henry let out an exaggerated cough. Emma amiled, rolling her eyes at his precociousness. "I'm sorry - Henry had the bright idea to consult her."

"Hopefully she'll know what kind of magic is at play here," added August. "I don't know about you,, but I don't want to be in the position of dealing with Rumplestiltskin if we can avoid it."

"No one's making any deals with that man again - no matter what the situation," Snow declared in what Emma had taken to think of as her 'queen' voice. She'd heard plenty of it in the last few days as Snow and Charming had been working round the clock to keep order. "The favor is never worth the price - and one favor owed is more than enough for my family!"

Regina blanched. "Rumplestiltskin!" she blurted out. "He's here?"

Snow nodded. "Everyone from our realm is here."

"Well that's it then!" Regina exclaimed. The four all clearly were not following. "I must be the key - I mean, I know I just got here, so it's kind of a shot in the dark, but all this is the perfect way to 'collect his restitution'. A world without magic would be the only way to separate her from her powers!"

A pause. Emma furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry - who shot who in the what now?"

"You know that imp?" cried Snow. "What could you have possibly needed - you have your youth, wealth, family - why make a deal with him?"

Her tone was strange mix of surprise, pity, and motherly scolding. Although Regina was not used to be addressed in such a manner by anyone but her own parents, she understood the reason behind it. As far as she was concerned, Rumpelstiltskin was a goblin merely wearing the skin of a man - which wasn't beyond his abilities, really. And apparently Snow cared enough to be concerned for the safety of her would-be stepmother. 'Or maybe that's just how all decent people behave,' she thought to herself. There was a reason, after all, that she didn't have any true friends amongst the other families of 'status'; she'd always preferred the company of the scullery maid's daughter and her riding instructor's son; they were obligated to be cordial but had little to gain by faux-friendships. Regina nodded in answer to Snow's question. "My family - only my mother, actually. She made a deal before I was born... she's never told me what she promised."

Emma and Snow exchanged a worried look. This was a wrench they never could have planned for - nor did they even know if 'their' Regina was on balance with Rumplestiltskin, or if she was still in his debt.

"We need to know whatever you know of your mother's deal with Rumplestiltkin," replied August.

Regina thought back to the string of strange appearances of the little gold-flecked man in her life. "If that's that's what you wish. But afterwards, I'm going to need some answers.

"Deal," Emma answered quickly.

Snow nodded in encouragement, lending a hopeful smile Regina's way. It was truly strange. She felt she had roots with these people - some kind of deep connection - yet, couldn't pinpoint the nature of it. It was like the waters of her memory were dammed back - access to the flow stopped. Had she been a parental figure to Snow, despite running away with Daniel? Was it something darker? Had they really had a past together at all, or was the woman before her simply transformed into a shade of Snow's coming adulthood, harboring her memories? Whatever it was seemed to dance and swirl at the back of her memory, fluttering out of reach the moment her mind tried to grasp it. Hopefully, these people would be able to help her capture that inky black stain that weighed down her soul. "Very well. It begins before I was born, so I can't speak for the veracity of the story, but from what I was told..."

Emma, Snow, August, and Henry all leaned forward unconsciously. This wasn't just a story that wasn't in Henry's book. This could very well be the root of everything that culminated into an entire realm being drawn into the most wicked of curses - and possibly held the key to restoring their happy endings once and for all.