Regina has never been a fan of doctors of any type and she's even less a fan of the one that is touching her at the moment, no matter how kind she is. Her mind is a swirl of emotions and memories and though the woman above her is speaking softly, all Regina can think about is the men who hadn't.

The "ones" who had told her that she was essentially useless to the King.

So much time has passed and some scars still remain so terribly vivid.

"You can put your clothes back on now, Miss Mills," the doctor - Elisabeth - tells her, a slight accent brushing delicately over her carefully annunciated words. "We can talk about our next steps together once you're dressed."

"Is there something wrong?" Regina asks, her dark eyes suddenly wide with alarm. Visions of the past suddenly cloud her mind and she can see the King staring at her in disappointment, his disinterest in her growing with every bundle removed from her bedroom.

"Not at all. Everything looks quite good for where we are at this stage of your pregnancy, but considering your stated history with miscarriages, I wanted to go through a list of precautions and perhaps make some recommendations."

"Oh. Right. Of course."

"It's entirely normal to be anxious," Elisabeth assures her. "I promise you."

The woman means well and she's not actually being condscending in any way - in fact, Regina detects nothing from her but actual compassion and true empathy - but still, considering all that she has been through in her long life, it rubs a bit wrong to be told that any kind of negative emotion is acceptable.

"Would you like your son to join us for this discussion?" Elisabeth asks, seeming to understand that she needs to rebalance this conversation away from the clear uncertainity that is presenting itself on her patients' face.

Regina looks up at her and smiles, almost sighing in relief. She knows damn well that she shouldn't be leaning on Henry like she is, but it's hard not to do so when he's offering up his shoulders and his support to her. "I would."

"All right. Go ahead and get dressed and then meet us in my office."


"Everything all right?" Henry asks when she comes into the office; they're by themselves for the moment and he looks fairly anxious about this place.

Understandable as he's just starting to grasp sexuality.

And now he's joining his mother on visits to the baby doctor. Weird.

She loves her son all the more for it.

"Everything is fine," she assures him.

"Did you have to tie the scarf off?"

"For my exam, yes," she says and then chuckles darkly to herself at the mental image of a gynelogical exam with her son's scarf around her neck; it's more than a little weird, to be sure. "But I'm still me, see? So Belle was right."

"You shouldn't have done that," he scolds. He worries about his mother sometimes - a lot of the time - and just how reckless she can be about her own safety. Like she believes that no one would miss her if she was gone.

"I didn't even realize I was," she admits. And that's the truth. For as weird as the mental image of an exam with the scarf is, she'd been fully prepared to fulfill that, but when she'd been undressing and thinking about someone touching her, the scarf and the dangers of removing it had just flickered away from her mind and then the next thing she'd known, it'd been on the bench in front of her with her shoes and she'd realized that she'd still been herself.

"Mom," he starts to say and she knows that he's going to plead with her to be more careful, but before she can say anything else, the door is getting pushed open and then Elisabeth is entering with a thick stack of papers.

She takes a seat, leans towards them and says in that wonderful accent of hers, "So, let's talk about how to take care of yourself and your little one."


They're quiet on the drive back to Storybrooke and at first he thinks that it's because it's raining hard (which means that they'll have to come up with a different story for Emma because surely she knows there's no way that Regina would let them stay outside in a freezing Maine downpour), but then he notices the way that his mother is white-knuckling the steering wheel.

"Mom?" he asks.

She turns her head slightly and looks over at him to let him know that she's heard him and is okay with him asking her whatever is on his mind.

"Are you scared?"

Regina thinks for a moment and then says quietly, "Yes."

She feels his hand slide into hers. "You know you're not alone, right?"

"I know, but I need you to know that you're my son and not my protector."

"Can't I be both?"

"It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."

"Okay, then it's my job to protect the runt. Remember? Our Operation?"

"I remember," she chuckles. "And fine, you can protect him or her."

"Which do you think it is."

"I don't know," she admits. "Right now, I just want her to meet you."

"Her?"

Regina laughs. "Or him."

"It could be fun to have a little sister."

"No matter what it is, you're going to be an amazing older brother."

"Yeah," he agrees. He points ahead, then. "Town line."

She half-smiles out her acceptance of this and then lightly gasps when they cross the line, wincing slightly.

"Mom?"

"I'm fine. It's always a bit unsettling when the magic inside of me gets turned back on."

"So you're not hurt?"

She pauses ever so briefly because she does feel a bit queasier than usual - but then, this is the first time that she's had the magic turned back on with a baby on-board so perhaps that's the difference. Before Henry can notice her hesitation, she says quickly, "I'm not. Do you imagine she's waiting at the house for us?"

"Emma?"

"Mm."

"Probably. So what's our story?"

Regina laughs. And then shrugs her shoulders.

Because for once, there are no easy lies on her tongue.

She figures she'd better come up with one, though.

Just in case.


Emma is waiting there for them, sitting on the front step dressed in jeans and her new pale colored jacket. When the Mercedes pulls up into the driveway, it's wheels splashing water up around the car, Emma stands up.

"Miss Swan," Regina greets coolly as she and Henry get out of the car.

"How was the beach?" Emma asks, hands tucked deep in her pockets to try and give her a casual disinterested look that is anything but. "Warm?"

"We changed our plans."

Emma looks up at the sky. "Yeah, I bet. Hey, Kid."

"Hey, Emma," he says and gives her a quick one-armed hug before fleeing into the house; part of him thinks he should stay behind and referee but the other part knows that until these two deal with their issues, it'll stay like this.

And his adoptive mother doesn't need the stress of such bad blood between she and his birth mother - Elisabeth had been very clear that considering his mom's history with miscarriages, any stress could put the baby at grave risk.

Which means that this has to end.

So he flees inside but he stays close to the door just in case it becomes more than a matter of refereeing. Just in case he has to step between them and make them both see that they're more and better than this. He has rather enjoyed their building and growing friendship and he wants that back.

He thinks that they both do as well.


"So, where were you really?" Emma asks after Henry disappears.

"How is that any of your business? Unless you think that you have the right to tell me where I can go with my son." She steps towards Emma. "Because if that's why you're here, Miss Swan, understand that I came by as a courtesy -"

"I know," Emma says, her hand up in surrender. "I'm just…you're sick."

"What?"

"Not to be rude -"

"That would be a new twist for you."

Emma lifts an eyebrow as if to say, "look who's talking" but then pushes ahead with, "But you look like you got hit with a bus and everyone in this damn town that has even caught a fleeting glimpse of you lately has also seen you bent over a few seconds later throwing up whatever you just ate."

"Clearly, I need to eat less in public," Regina mutters to herself.

"Maybe or maybe you need to get whatever is going on with you checked out. If it's just the flu, you should be taking care of yourself, but if it's -"

Regina's eyebrows knit together. "If it's what?"

"If it's something else, well then I've been there and maybe I can help."

"You've helped enough. I don't want you involved in this."

"So you are, then? Pregnant?"

Regina flinches slightly, her hand going to her belly instinctively.

"Fuck," Emma mutters. "You can't say I don't screw up spectacularly."

It's said with such dark sad humor that Regina can't help but chuckle even if it does mean completely admitting to what she'd been trying to hide. "No," she allows. "I would say that this was one of your more impressive feats."

"Right. Okay. So what can I do to help? Please, let me help."

Regina thinks for a moment and then sighs. "Keep Robin away from me."

"You're not planning on telling him." It's a statement not a question, and it's curiously void of judgement or disbelief, like Emma understands this.

"No. He's already screwed himself into the ground over his precious honor, the last thing I want him doing is spraining something over a reversal of it."

"And when he does find out that you're pregnant?"

"It's your father's baby," Regina says dryly. "It's a long sordid story."

Emma makes something of a face and then shakes it away. "I need to not ever have that…yeah…so where were you today, then? Not in town, I presume."

"I was confirming the pregnancy and getting all my vitamins and -" she frowns because though pregnancy had never worked out for her in the Enchanted Forest, it had been easier than here where there seems like there are about ten pages worth of do this and don't do that for every day of the pregnancy.

"And everything is...everything is good?"

"So far."

"Kid give this an operational name yet?"

"Operation Runt," Regina admits.

Emma chuckles at that. "Figures. Well, Robin won't hear it from me. You have my word."

"And what should your word mean to me, Emma?"

"It means I'm sorry and I never wanted you to be hurt."

"I suppose I believe you," Regina allows grudgingly.

"Well, I suppose that's good enough for now."

"I would ask that you not mention this to anyone else, either. Not even your mother or father. I'm not ready to...I'm not ready to share this yet."

"Okay. Not a word," Emma assures. "But for what it's worth, personally, I think that you should talk to him because he is so madly in love with you that -"

"That it doesn't matter. He made his choice and I won't be the person he breaks his code of honor for. I need to be better than wanting that, too."

"Well, then word of advice: come up with someone other than my dad."

"Oh, but it's a grand love story. If it makes you feel better -"

"Whatever disturbing thing you're about to say? Won't make me feel better."

Regina chuckles at that. "No, perhaps not. I'll...come up with something."

"Right. I'm going to go now," Emma says as she steps back. "Tell the kid hanging out behind the door that we didn't kill each other and good night."

"Goodnight, Miss Swan."

Emma nods at the continued use of her last name instead of her first, like she knows that there's still much progress to be made between them to even get them back to the curious place where they were just a few short months ago.

But it's nice not to be at war.

Perhaps even nice to have a friend.

Even if it will take time to get there.


Per her promise, Emma goes out of her way to keep Robin away from Regina - always giving him the patrols on the opposite of town and keeping him busy running strange little errands for her when Regina's nearby - but she can't keep them from just about stumbling into each other outside of Granny's.

Regina is almost four months along now and she's starting to show enough that she's taken to wearing larger coats when she's moving around town. She imagines that some folks have noticed, but there's an upside to being as unpredictable as she is known to be - people just shrug those things off.

Now, though, Robin is eying the coat curiously. "Aren't you overheating?" he asks, glancing up at the sun. It's only around seventy but quite bright out.

"I'm fine," she replies and stops herself from reaching up to touch him.

It's been four months and the muscle memory is still there for her.

She still vividly remembers what his back feels like when all of the muscles within it are flexing beneath her scraping nails as he moves atop her. She can still clearly recall the touch of his bearded cheek as he'd kissed his way up and down her body, stopping every now and again to tease a particular sound out of her or see if he could get her to plead for more of something.

"I haven't seen you around much," Robin notes, drawing her away from a past that she doesn't want to forget - can't forget, considering - but knows that she needs to find a way to remove the emotion from. She needs to find a way to not feel so much for this man - so much longing and hurt and love and anger and everything else - but it's harder when he close like right now. It almost feels like every part of her (including the baby inside of her, but of course that's completely preposterous) wants to step towards him and just -

But she knows that she can't touch him - won't dare risk the landslide of emotions that would surely come from such an action - so instead she just balls up her traitorous hands and shoves them deep into her pockets.

"That's probably for the best," she notes. It makes things less complicated."

"I suppose that it does," Robin agrees. "Roland misses you, though."

She sighs at that and shakes her head. "Are you trying to hurt me?"

He looks taken aback, shocked by the accusation. "Why would you ever -"

"He has his mother and Robin…I can't. I adore that little boy, but I can't be a part of his life and realize that…I just can't. I need full separation here."

He swallows hard and says quietly, "I understand. And yes, of course."

"Good," she says and then starts to step around him. She knows that she needs to get away from him before all the feelings start surging up again.

Before the words "don't be selfish" lose their meaning as she thinks about how she'd looked in this mirror this morning and seen the swell of her belly.

A growing belly which contains a child that they had made together.

She's almost around him, almost away from him when she hears the loud scream and then they're both turning together, both looking towards the danger and then they're both rolling their eyes in frustration at the massive creature ambling down the street towards them, stomping everything.

Robin tenses and reaches for his bow.

"Shoot him in the foot" Regina suggests as she sizes the creature up and looks for areas of opportunity to strike at. "I can take care of the rest."

Without hesitation, he nods his head sharply and then fires his perfect shot, the arrow embedded into the creature's foot. It howls and rears up in anger.

Which is when Regina chooses to ignite her hands with fire.

The pain she feels is immediate and agonizing and though she manages to get the fireballs off (she thinks she hears the creature tearing apart as one of the blasts hits it right in its exposed side), she is aware of little else beyond the hurt she feels before she's crumbling to the cement, a hand on her belly.

She feels Robin's arms around her and his hands on her face and she thinks that she hears him shouting for help even as he tells her that she's safe.

Even as she promises her that she's okay and everything will be okay.

But the whole time, even as she turns into his warmth, all she's thinking over and over again is that she's just lost their baby and it's all her fault.

TBC...