My apologies for the extreme delay. I kinda lost my footing with this one, and then classes are back in session. So here's a ridiculously long chapter. Before I wanted this more romantic-fluffy, but now it's coming out more family-angst with fluffy moments. Woops. Oh yeah, I sorta used a character from Criminal Minds on here. Don't worry, if you haven't watched the show it isn't vital to know much about her. If you have, then yay guest character.

Side note: I made the mistake of putting a section of the chapter twice. I'm really sorry about that but it's fixed now!

Dots of orange spark behind closed eyes, stirring Emma awake with reluctance. Maybe if she sleeps longer she could believe this whole ordeal is just a dream. A nightmare that's vivid, however controllable and temporary. But a downward look at her stomach, the swell of it beginning to grow, is the dawning realization.

She's pregnant.

Away from her family in a crappy motel.

With someone's head on her shoulder.

Wait what?

Tilting her head to the side, Emma sees a mop full of silky, brown hair, mused from sleep, on her shoulder. She's not surprised that Regina's there- she still backtracks to last night's events in case she did do something crazy- just the closeness, the warmth of her body snuggled against her side is...disconcerting.

It's not bad, hell Emma is a warm-blooded woman with an eye for aesthetics, but still... she and Regina are not in a place to be snuggling so comfortably and effortlessly. Yet here they are, Regina's arm loosely around Emma's middle, face buried in her neck.

This is crazy, Emma thinks with an internal scream. They just went from an emotional showdown, barely recovered battle scar at that, to now playing house at a motel they ran off on impulse.

It feels so familiar and she doesn't know why. She's hasn't been anywhere near Regina that's been out of Storybrooke, then she wonders if Regina has ever left Storybrooke since the curse broke or even before it, yet this feels like something they've done before.

Which is ridiculous that she can't put her finger on it.

And annoying that it won't stop, that buzzing in her body.

No there's actually something fluttering-

"What the fuck?" Emma grumbles as she surveys the room. Her gaze lands on Regina's hand, lingering until she glares at the small, circular rubs on her abdomen.

A tilt of the head shows that Regina is still asleep, hot, slow breathing fogging her neck, so this whole stomach rubbing is unconscious. It still doesn't make this any less uncomfortable, or appropriate.

"Regina," she whispers firmly.

A soft grumble is Emma's reply, and the hand rubbing didn't seize. She feels the buzz again, the vibration making her twitch, when she calls out her name again.

"Regina." She leans over to shake her, but then realizes her arm is being pinned to the bed by Regina's body and Jesus Christ-

"Regina!"

"Mmf-" The way Regina leaps out of her slumber would be comical had her head not collided with Emma's, lips planted on her own.

She hasn't felt those soft lips in three months, hasn't felt the warm weight of them, and she's almost tempted to lean in, flutter her eyes shut and just be, but then she remembers who's she's kissing and how they got into this fuckfest in the first place. She pushes back, eyes wide, mouth open in shock and horror. They still don't know how Emma got pregnant, so kissing a magically charged woman, despite being outside of Storybrooke, is terrifying and potentially dangerous.

"What the fuck?" She shouts, finally peeling herself from the barely awake woman.

That rouses her, however, Regina's brown eyes squinting before they widen in horror. "Emma I didn't mean- I don't understand... you shouldn't have been that close to me!"

And we're back to this. "Of course. Regina, once again, playing the victim-"

"And what is that suppose to mean?" Her eyes flash, voice thick with sleep.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Emma's in no mood to argue, and there's this fucking delirious feeling like she's drugged that Emma can't shake off-"

"Ms. Swan-"

"Just... forget it, alright?" Emma puts her head in her hands, elbows pressing into her knees.

Her guts churn, making cup her stomach, her other clenching Regina's thigh.

"No we will talk about this..." Regina's selfish demand falls on deaf ears when the buzzing intensifies, borderline electric and she grunts at the first sharp tug to her abdomen.

"Ms. Swan?"

There's another tug, this time painful enough to make her yelp, clenching her eyes shut, but it fades away eventually. She opens her eyes and takes a slow, cautious breath, afraid if she moves the sparks will resume.

What was that?

It didn't feel like the usual shifting-it's so weird that this baby moves so much when she's not that far in the pregnancy, but Emma feels the reason it does that is certainly not in medical books. It felt more like a constant pull, clawing- for what? She's not sure. But it damn sure didn't feel nice, and she damn sure doesn't want it to happen again.

"Whoa."

"Emma, what's wrong?"

The pulling of her stomach and the strange affect that lingers left her distracted to the point that she forgotten Regina was beside her, probably terrified of the unknown.

Emma tries to smile, to tell her that it was just some cramps, but the lie never passes her lips. That...strange feeling is an indescribable feeling. That feels like everything and nothing. Much like...much like-

"Magic..."

"What?" Regina asks in disbelief, but Emma is too captivated by this realization that she doesn't bring herself to care. Yes that's what this feeling was.

"It's-It's magic. I feel it. Damn it Regina, I'm serious! I felt this way when we opened the portal, when I kissed Henry awake from the curse. Even when..." When we fucked that time, she thinks, but luckily she doesn't let that slip.

Regina stares expectantly, but her eyes sharpen with clarity, as if she, too, can remember that night that started all of this. That sobers her mocking, at least, but Regina still looks skeptical.

"Ms. Swan," Regina soothes, rubbing the hand that's still on her thigh. "Look at me- look at me," she commands, thumb under Emma's chin.

Emma stares at dark eyes, the concern in its depths, and heaves a sigh before turning her body in Regina's direction.

"Look at my hands." She has her palm upward, wiggling her fingers in such an exaggerated gesture as if proving a point.

"I don't get it."

"I just made three incantations and there's nothing there, because there is no magic here."

"Regina I know what I felt-!"

"I was very adamant about being in a land without magic. And trust me, dear, there is no magic here."

"I know what you're saying but my gut says-"

"Do not rely on your internal organs when making decisions," she sniffs.

She cuts the pretentious bullshit, though. Maybe Emma looks as scared as she feels. Maybe Regina's showing the soul beneath the darkness and bitterness. Emma never knew with this woman.

Then a hand is on her chest and Emma stares at it with wariness and wonder. Blood red nails dig into the flesh there, exposed in a white tank top.

"What are you doing?" She asks, staring down in a daze. Regina's nail scratch a little, bringing her back to the bitter-sweet memories of those nails down her back, against her shoulders.

"If this world had magic, my hand would be in your chest. And if this world had magic," she clamps her fingers together, pulling away, "you would have no heart."

"Nah, not really," Emma shrugs. "Your mom already tried back in-"

" What!?"

Emma got so used to Regina's soothing tone that the sharp command makes her look up at the appalled woman before her.

"Uh...yeah" Emma stutters. "She tried to rip my —"

"What do you mean she tried?" Regina demands, snatching her hand away.

Emma narrows her eyes, tensing in her spot. She doesn't understand why Regina looks so angry, angry at her, as ifshe did something wrong, but it puts her on edge. "Like I said before the lady's a piece of work. I get she's your mother but are you really going to blame me for that psycho trying to kill me?"

"No what I mean is why is it still in your chest?" Regina's breathing in short pants, blinking around her chest area like it's the messiah.

"I..." Emma splutters, shaking her head. This was an interesting question Mary Margaret still didn't answer. "I don't know anything about magic, you tell me —"

"No you tell me exactly what happened!"

Emma frowns. "Regina this has nothing to do with —"

"Emma Swan you tell me what happened back home or so help me." Her voice is hard, void of the warmth and concern she's been growing use to, but her eyes are wide with fear so strong it's nearly palpable.

What is there to be scared of? Well there's the almost being killed part, but she's here and Cora's trapped. There's no point in worrying about her when they have other problems.

"Are you even Emma? Is this another one of mother's tactics to keep an eye on me?" Regina starts spewing by the mouth, her eyes wide and crazed. It seems like other delusional thoughts race through her mind, too quick for Regina to voice, but her shaken fear has her standing, looking at Emma like she saw a ghost— which is ridiculous since Emma never saw Regina this frighten before. Even when the town was ready to off her head just when the curse broke, Regina scoffed at them like the peasants they were to her.

David even told her that he threatened Regina with his sword if she didn't help bring them back from the Enchanted Forrest, and instantly felt bad for it, despite that Regina's done a whole lot worse to him. Emma remembers scoffing, reminding David that Regina was a mass murdering psycho who shows no remorse for the crimes she's done to their family. But David's issue was the nonchalance Regina displayed with a sharp sword pressed against her chin. He said that she didn't even flinch, or break eye contact. It was as if she had no issue with dying before him at that moment. As if she wasn't human.

Well Regina is the polar opposite before her, knees buckling in the middle of the small hotel room. Emma hopes what she felt in her stomach wasn't magic, and if it is Regina can't conjure it for if she could, Emma had a feeling she would be burnt to a crisp.

Death by a mob doesn't frighten Regina, nor does the actual near promise of a blade through her neck.

But her mother does.

And Emma still doesn't know much about ogres or riding horses, or any other trivia a princess should know, but this reaction, the wide eyes of suspicion and fear she knows too well— seen in the eyes of enough children that makes her heart clench.

"Regina," Emma whispers, but loud enough for her tone to be steady. Careful. "Regina, look at me." Her hands are raised, palms up as she carefully lifts herself from the bed, one leg at a time. She knows Regina isn't here with her right now; usually the former Queen is by her side in seconds, helping her stand despite Emma scoffing that she isn't even that big yet. Now she's stuck in whatever hell that Emma wants to be ignorant of, but life in this world hadn't been easy, and by growing up way faster than she should have, reading people became a skill she perfected in. It's not that hard with a blank expression as a canvas, anyway.

"Regina, this isn't... Your mother doesn't have my heart and she's not controlling me."

It's the wrong thing to say, or maybe Emma was too forward in her coaxing and pushed too far, since the doe-eyed quiver is replaced by a hardened sneer. "And how would you know she could do such a thing?"

Emma flinches, but keeps her palms up as she takes a slow, tentative step forward, just to test the waters. Regina watches her every move with a scrutinized gaze, but doesn't lash out at it. That's a good thing.

"I saw her do it to Aurora."

"The princess?" She raises her brow. "She's awake?"

Emma shivers at that, as if Regina didn't like the sound of a woman sleeping for eternity waking up. A fleeting thought flies in her mind, having her wonder if Regina was a part of that as well, but luckily, despite the contrast of Disney movies and everything that is her reality, the foes are relatively the same. Snow White and the Evil Queen. Sleeping Beauty and...Malificent. Yeah, that's not Regina Emma thinks with an inward sigh.

"Yeah. Phillip woke her up, Snow and Charming style." Regina seems like her regular self when she snorts, and it makes Emma nervously chuckle.

That slight quirk of the lip goes away the minute Emma takes another step.

Shit.

"Yeah, Aurora's a real princess," she grins, trying to add levity in the tense air. "Kinda demanding. Slowing us down 'cause she broke a heel. But she's kind and...stuff."

Regina crosses her arms.

Emma sighs in exasperation. "Shit Regina it's me. You know it's me."

"Mother's tricks are quite convincing. You're telling me that you feeling magic and Cora's hand in your chest doesn't correlate?"

"Yeah maybe, maybe not." Regina doesn't look half convinced and Emma's on a thin ice of her own fear and frustration. She had to leave her family for this damn kid Regina gave her, and Regina's...well, maybe she got spoiled of the love Mary Margaret and David shower her with to make up for lost time. Maybe she got use of the idea of Regina putting her life on the line to protect her and their unborn child. Emma's been alone for awhile, but even she, despite her cynical heart, has gotten use to the idea of people in her corner. Now her family is stuck in a cloaked town, and Regina's...stuck in her head. She can't afford to have Regina mistrust her. "Ask me anything, c'mon anything that I would know and your mother wouldn't. Uh...my bra size?" Cora shouldn't know that right...despite her witchcraft. "34B"

Regina guffaws. "Trying to regain trust usually means to be truthful, Ms. Swan."

Emma frowns. "Okay, that was plain rude."

"And also accurate," she counters. "Now how am I..." Regina swallows in a way that makes her look small. That's unfitting for a murderous Queen or corrupt Mayor. She looks so damn small and Emma scratches the back of her neck as she takes another step.

"I get it, okay. Your mother seems like a piece of work and I bet that's not even half the story." Judging by the grinding of Regina's jaw, Emma struck a nerve. "But that's not me."

She takes a step forward. Regina steps back.

"Look I'm the poster girl for fucked up and my incapability of trust is right at the top." Abandonment is probably the first, but they all seem to coincide in the long run. "It ain't easy, but you just... you're just going to have to, Regina."

Emma takes another step, hands still stretched out, offering. Pleading.

"Because I can't do this alone..."

She takes another step, but Regina hasn't moved. That's a good sign.

"...not again." Her voice cracks, a sudden flash of a small six by eight jail cell hitting her. The shock, the betrayal of being set up. Being shackled like a damn animal as she gave birth. The bitterness that quickly seeped in to prevent the hurt, and protect herself from any future heartbreak. Almost eleven years later yet those emotions— perhaps heightened by the pregnancy or recent heartbreak— come alive as if it was yesterday.

No, it won't be. And that's why she needs to snap Regina out of this.

One final step and she's in Regina's space. Able to stare at deep brown eyes, still fairly frightened beneath the suspicion. She keeps her eyes up, trying her damn near hardest to convey the honesty, the trust that Emma could never feel so blindly. She lightly strokes Regina's finger with her own, noticing the flinch, but she didn't move away either, so Emma takes that as good sign to grab her hand, not too quick but not slow enough to make Regina change her mind, and brings their conjoined hands to her heart, now beating wildly with adrenaline.

"Feel that?" she asks in a whisper, too afraid of breaking Regina's calm trance with her voice. "That's all Swan heart right there."

Regina's eyes are glued to her chest, blinking wildly like the intensity of Emma's heartbeat. Emma wants to bristle under the scrutiny, to look away but she's trying her hardest to show that she could be trusted, and not a puppet Cora apparently uses to emotionally torture Regina with.

"But... how?" The way Regina says it, all timid and confused like a child, does something to Emma's heart that she's too frustrated to understand at the moment. So she doesn't look into it, maybe it'll be safer if she didn't anyway, and focuses on Regina and the hand that's practically cupping the middle of her chest like a prize.

"I wish I could tell you," Sometimes Emma does, and other times she rather be in the dark about something that powerful and dangerous, "but I can't. She tried to...then her hand got stuck and this freaky light came out of me and next thing I know she was on the other side of the lake, and me and Mary Margaret were in the portal."

Regina remains quiet, now beginning to caress the skin there, and Emma bristles despite wanting to be strong. She's fairly confident that Regina won't hurt her because she is the one carrying their child, but knowing her past history, and how many hearts that graced that very hand, she can't help the jolt that it does to her own.

Regina must sense the insecurity since she stops moving, but keeps her hand rested there like a classic dame leaning into the manly superhero. Emma would chuckle at the two outrageous thoughts of Regina and damsel-in-distress had it not been so intense.

"You won..."

What? "Regina I didn't... kill her, if that's what you're thinking— "

"You won," she echoes but the edge is back, the confidence that the mention of Cora washed away has returned. Then she laughs, tone high pitched, more like a cackle that edges to the point of insanity. "Mother never loses and you, of all people, manage to win."

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly as what I say," she answers sharply, but her eyes draw back to her heart. They soften. "I suppose if you could beat the unbeatable, then it's...possible that you, or the baby, can conjure up magic in a magicless world."

That's not what Emma means; she wants to know why Regina's so frightened when she, herself, has magic abilities. She wants to know what predicaments have her constantly in battle with her mother to be on the losing end. She wants to know everything, but she doesn't ask because it's none of Emma's business.

"Yeah, I guess," Emma mumbles, looking away. Now that her heart is back to its regular quiver, the adrenaline gone, it feels uncomfortable being this close to Regina— hiked up against a wall, no less. Where it all started...

"As queen, even as mayor, I'd rely on people making the mistake of underestimating me," she returns to the caressing, but it's so light Emma feels more of the presence than the actual pressure. She makes a smile that's not fully happy, but not bitter or angry either. Its vulnerability unnerves Emma. "It usually didn't end well for them."

Emma swallows. "I'm sure."

Regina tilts her head to the side, eyeing her chest with the inquisitive inspection of a doctor- like Whale did back in Storybrooke- and it makes her heart hammer all over again. The former Mayor chuckles, as if hearing a private joke, or even Emma's thoughts— wait can she do that?

"But I think that was my biggest downfall with you. Belittling you to a mere delinquent who birthed my child. The spawn of my mortal enemy. The woman of my undoing, when you're so much more than that. You're quite powerful, Ms. Swan."

"Yeah, I guess..."

Now Emma actually gives them some distance, self-consciously folding her arms over her chest, knocking Regina's hand down. This conversation feels too much like the one with her and Jefferson. When she still thought all of this fairy tale extravaganza were all in Henry's, and apparently Jefferson's, head. How he spilled with that dramatic flair how powerful she was, and the power she had to break the curse.

Even with all this being quite true, it doesn't mean she feels comfortable about being compared to such divinity.

"What makes the facade so brilliant, despite all that you've accomplished that I am still tempted to label you as nothing, is that not even you believe how powerful you are. But you feel it," she reaches for her elbows, prompting Emma to uncross her arms. She falters, giving a small frown, but does what's implied and swings her arms to the side. Regina's hand returns to her heart and Emma really wishes that this morbid fascination with her internal organ can end, but loves the way those nails dig in, not enough to bruise, yet she feels the indentations on her skin. "The power strums in you, everyday, every second, even when you try to ignore it, you feel it."

"Maybe that's how I like it," Emma feels like her tongue is too heavy, face flushed as she looks into hooded eyes filled with...interest. "Maybe that's... it'll be better that way. I-If I didn't have magic."

"But you do."

"And I don't want it!" She sounds petulant, but damn it this fairytale shit has got on her last nerve and being reminded that such unusual, dangerous power just floats in her, is terrifying and unnerving and— damn it, Regina should just let her live her life in denial. It's her life. "Maybe I want to be normal. How I should be."

Instead of being surprised or at least irritated by her outburst, Regina smiles, again with that unnerving smile that makes Emma uncomfortable, and she twirls a strand of Emma's hair with her free hand. "Your magic saved your heart. Not all of us have that luxury."

Then she's back to the Regina she knows— at least is familiar with. All unreadable eyes with underlying sadness and painful smiles that does something to Emma's heart. Before she has enough time to think of why Regina's hidden yet obvious internal pain is a factor to her, there's two pats to Emma's chest, and then Regina's gone, slipping out of the small space between them and sits on the bed, phone in hand. Emma turns around, following her movements with a look of disbelief.

"Now we need to figure out where we will be staying and how long that'll be, but I think the most important thing at the moment is scheduling a doctor's appointment." She has her eyes glued to her phone, fingers strumming away, so she's unable to see Emma's mouth open and close, then open.

The one-sided silence grasps Regina's attention and she once again looks like the Mayor, deadpan expression and downturn of the lips, despite her current attire in a black silk pajama suit. "Are we clear, ?"

Emma knows a dismissal when she hears one, and the perfectly arched eyebrow raise is a dead giveaway to a subject change. It's just...she's seen Regina with her walls up, she has seen them fully exposed, but never has she seen them repaired so quickly.

She didn't expect them to get all therapeutic, but Regina just had a damn panic attack at the thought of her mother. They should talk about something...right?

So caught in her inner monologue, Emma didn't realize she was being asked a question, until an unkind sigh rasps from Regina's lips, followed by an eyeroll.

"Uh...yeah," Emma puffs out her cheeks, running her hand through her hair.

Guess not.


He looks at David, sprawled on the couch, arms crossed lazily around his head, and for for the first time he sees David Nolan. Even through the curse, Henry always thought of David as a Prince, though he and Gramps are polar opposites. He always thought of the man who sacrificed his chance at parenthood just to save his daughter and the realm, so the meek, cursed, timid shell of his former self had never been given a second thought.

It's not like it was real, anyway. And the prophecy said the curse would break, so the vet assistant was a non-facter.

Well now Henry feels it is. David's so blissfully unaware, smiling loosely at some stupid show on tv, and it makes Henry frown, glaring above his comic

book from the love seat. When Mary Margaret told him that David was front and center in the mob, he couldn't believe it. David protected infant Emma in his hand while he sword-fighted with another. He'd do anything for her.

So why didn't you?

A bile of resentment lodges in his throat— at the way Emma was treated, but then he remembers himself. How he acted when he found out about his mom. How he was so frightened that he never wanted to see her again. So he knows how David feels— to have a loved one be potentially dangerous, making you do rash decisions, but he couldn't help it. Emma was his mom and David was suppose to protect her.

"Henry, do you want to help me set the table?" The lifted eyebrow tells him that it's not up for discussion, so he nods as he tosses the comic on the love seat and skips into the kitchen.

David, more harmless and vapid as usual, glances at him with a warm smile before he continues watching his show.

Henry plasters one of his own but can't help the grumble under his breath.

"This is so weird," he hisses at Mary Margaret as he chops up the meatloaf and distributes it on his plate.

"I know," she says softly.

Mary Margaret puts on a smile, but he can see it's heavily faked. It kinda looks like the smile mom use to give to him after he found out about the curse. He sees why Mary Margaret is sad, but why mom? For some reason Henry has this gnawing feeling that it has nothing to do with the curse, that it's something deeper and too complicated for a child to understand. Oh well.

Now I have to help break a new curse. He shakes his head at the thought. What would they do without me?

"We can't just keep lying to him."

Mary Margaret throws a cautious glance over her shoulder, making sure David is in fact preoccupied, before speaking lowly to Henry. "He's not even aware of this...misconception. It's the same thing over and over again. Emma's at the station, I picked you up from school, and we start dinner. He wouldn't believe me if I told him anyway."

"Have you tried?" He deadpans, looking very much like his adopted mother that it scares and amuses her.

"We have to be very delicate about this Henry," she says carefully, not wanting to lie that she did not outwardly tell David about the situation. Her best hope was that he'd remember, or the curse would wear off like the freezing enchantment, but he didn't even mention the news- like the rest of this town. For a week, he's done the same thing— kiss Snow before going to work, come home, smile his Charming self off, eat dinner, and off to sleep with a wife that's well aware of the curse he's on. Well she, Henry, Ruby, and Granny as well. "We don't want to cause mass panic."

"Okay. So we're," he tosses another glance at David and continues in a quieter voice, "going to need a name. For discretion, y'know?"

His grandmother smiles, and even chuckles at his scowl. "Like Operation Cobra?"

"No," he bristles. "That curse is broken. This is a new one." And besides, that was him and Emma's thing.

Mom.

He needs her back— the both of them.

"So what do you want to call it?"

He thinks, a frown etched on his features as he cuts up what's left of the meat and puts it on the third plate for David.

He wonders what it should be.

Last time he named it Cobra because that's what he thought his mother was. Sharp, slithering, pretty to look at, and when provoked venomous and deadly. Something incapable of love, who can charm her way out of anything with a royal wrist, sharp words, and cold smiles.

Now things are different. Not drastically speaking, he still has thoughts he doesn't plan on confiding with Regina, and he rather not have his mom and Mary Margaret in a room by themselves, but he knows for certain that he loves her and doesn't want her hurt.

And he knows Regina cares about the child Emma's carrying. Maybe Emma, too, since she left with her. She left me...again. But he shakes that thought away and focuses on the objective, even though doubt wrings in his mind, and grins when he comes up with a name. "Operation Black Swan," he says with a crooked smirk that screams Emma and hides their shared fear of abandonment.

Mary Margaret gives one of her own, but then it turns wistful. "After your mom?"

"Well...I guess that works too..." he hadn't even realize that. "But I was going with how my moms are like swans. They migrate a lot until they find a perfect place. Emma did that a lot."

"Yes...yes she did," Mary Margaret sighs, keeping her eyes on the food. Anything to stop herself from crying. She misses her baby girl.

"And they are relatively harmless until someone endangers their nest. You said mom did that, right?" Henry shoots a glance over his shoulder before he mumbles, "when the town came. Protect Emma and the baby?"

Mary Margaret thinks of Regina then, her small frame stretched to cover Emma, fireball ready in hand. She had her own bow and arrow in tow, not hesitating to use it on anyone, even her dear husband, if they got any closer, but she didn't expect Regina to have that same passion. Snow's a mother now, and she's experienced the nearly dangerous need to protect Emma when they were in the Enchanted Forrest.

Regina must love her unborn child already, Snow thinks with a sad smile. Regina, who loves to the point of obsession, despite her blacken heart has the ability to love like she loved that stable boy. Even though Snow's eyes were practically glued to the crowd in front of the manor, she felt Regina's protection. She felt and understood Regina as a mother, as the woman who saved her all those years ago. She felt like family.

It was glorious.

"Yes," Snow answers with a growing smile. "That she did."

Henry beams, "So Operation Black Swan?"

"Operation Black Swan."

"Cool!"

Henry is finished making his and David's plate, and he takes them both, waiter style, and walks over to the couch, handing his grandfather one and keeping the other.

There's something about the Operation thing that bothers Snow and she just doesn't know why. She thinks of Emma, and wonders if she'd like Henry and her sharing something that was unspeakably theirs.

No. Emma isn't possessive like that. Regina, maybe— definitely, but not Emma. She'd enjoy the thought of Henry getting along with his family.

She tries to think of more things, but draws a blank. Shrugging, she picks up her plate to head to the couch, sitting across Henry and David.

They eat in relative silence, but Snow still has this thought that won't shake from her. That something off is about that name.

Swans.

As a teacher, a cursed teacher, she was given memories of her going through school and doing many last minute papers. She may not have remembered her family or how long she lived in Storybrooke, but she did have some faded memories of a working student, hunched over in her home, doing report after report.

And then she remembers being up all night in this loft sans the family, doing a research paper on Swans.

The thought flickers through her mind like an old film, grainy and cracked, but comprehensible.

Swans are largely monogamous, pairing for life, and a quarter of their relationships being homosexual.

Snow chokes on her meatloaf.


Emma doesn't know how Regina does it, but she manages to book their appointment for next week, most likely cutting off a few people who have been waiting for a couple of months. It's amazing watching her work, her constant scheming and manipulations not being used against her, for once, and Emma has to remember to keep her mouth closed so their cover won't be blown.

Regina Mills, well Regina Miller for this cover, is apparently Emma's doe eyed foster sister who is taking care of a heartbroken, jaded Emma who just got out of an emotionally abusive relationship from a man who dumped her and kicked her out after telling him of their surprised pregnancy.

It makes her feel guilty, a little sick really, that Regina could be this convincing for a situation that is not fabricated for a lot of young women, that it's quite real for them. But Regina sniffles when she has to, batting her large eyes to the chief of the OBGYN department, even quivers her lips without a care in the world of the people that might be pushed aside for their unplanned meeting.

Then again Regina is doing it for the same reason Emma use to pick pocket people's wallets, and do extreme Bonnie and Clyde stints with Neal: because they have to.

It still doesn't sit right with her.

"Thank you, Doctor," Emma hears outside. Regina now walks through the automatic doors, throwing in a delicate wave over her shoulder. "God Bless!"

Emma groans.

"Don't you think you were laying it in a little thick?" Emma whispers as Regina sits in the seat beside her in the waiting room.

Regina merely shrugs, picking up a maternal magazine with a laughing giggling baby on the cover. It's then that Emma focuses on her surroundings-before she was damn near glued to that damn Oscar performance Regina did- and she takes in the colorful walls, some spotted with brightly painted handprints, others just a pale yellow, and groans. She didn't have to deal with this before. The doctors' offices were all the same color as each other prison: a dull gray.

Emma just couldn't help herself. "God bless? Do you even believe in a God?"

"Praising and idolizing an non-entity with no intention of answering your prayer is foolish," she answers, not even bothering to lift her eyes from the magazine, "but that seems to be a norm for this world, among other idiosyncrasies."

Emma had to agree there. Still though... Regina in jeans- her jeans that she can't fit in at the moment- and a black v-neck, looking very much like a single mom and nothing of the sharp-dressed Mayor Emma knows is strange. The whole designer pantsuit, foreign dress thing wouldn't go well with her whole 'group home' image, according to Regina.

"We probably canceled someone else's appointment."

Still Regina's eyes remained downwards, occasionally turning a page here and there. "That sounds like a problem that is not mine."

"How could you sit here—" Emma catches the attention of some little boy who is glaring(can he even glare at that age?) at her from across the room. She gives him a petulant scowl before facing Regina, who's unaware of the silent exchange "—how could you sit here and make up some story like that without a care in the world, reading some fucking—" she snatches it, ignoring the appalled gasp and reads "What to Expect When You're Expecting— oh that'soriginal— when they are women really in this situation?"

Regina's eyes flash and had this been Storybrooke they would've been purple. "If you value your fingers, Ms. Swan," she mutters darkly, "you will never snatch from me again." She grabs the magazine from Emma, but keeps it folded in her hand. "And you make it sound like it is I, that is being emotionally detrimental to these strangers you have a heart for."

"You could just look a little more remorseful for the people we probably bumped, or sad that you could make light for a situation that's not so pretty for young girls."

The glaring boy's mom, looking damn near ready to pop out another one, heads for the door while the boy sticks his tongue out when she is talking to the doctor.

Emma mirrors his childish act, looking away, but this time Regina catches their unspoken glares and raises her brow.

Regina looks at the boy, her features immediately softening to amusement, and his chubby cheeks redden before he puts his head down.

"It's quite alright, child. I tend to feel the same way." She's smiling now, and so is the four(or so) year old, two spaces where teeth should be in view. Emma flicks her eyes between the both of them with an appalled expression.

Unbelievable.

After their smile, he goes off with his mother, leaving the two of them with only one family in the sits there with her brows raised.

"That kid was a brat." As if she had to explain herself.

"Oh? Because he didn't like you?"

"No because it was evil!"

"He is a child. Children aren't evil, but they are incredibly perceptive. According to this magazine-"

Emma has it snatched out her hand again, and this time she actually is a little scared of the end result. Of course she won't show it. "I don't care about some dumb ass statistic," she interrupts with exasperation.

"But apparently you care about strangers in an unfortunate situation." Of course Regina is incapable of letting things go.

"At least I have the decency to care. It's called having a conscience. Seems like that's expecting too much from you."

Regina guffaws, dark and dry, but by no means offended. "You think having a conscience changes things?It doesn't, Ms. Swan. If you hurting someone is intentional or not, it makes no difference, because they are hurt all the same."

"Intent is everything-"

"Intent is meaningless," and Regina looks so dark, like she herself hates saying those very words, like she wants to cut Emma down with sharp words, but just like that her face softens to the 'sweet foster sister' she's impersonating and Emma is beyond terrified.

"No need to be ashamed, sweetheart," she smiles, all teeth and no sincerity, while Emma frowns in confusion.

But it makes sense when the doctor Regina was talking- fooling, really- to earlier stands by the automatic doors with a pitied expression on his middle aged face. How the hell did she know he was there when Regina was staring at her?

"Miss Miller?"

Emma almost ignores it but then remembers that's Regina's 'last name'.

Regina pats Emma's thigh in the friendly manner that Mary Margaret has done countless times as her roommate, but for her it feels cold and exposing, and walks over to the doctor with the most put-on, meek stride Emma's ever seen.

She can't hear them, doesn't want to hear more lies anyway, but from her peripheral Regina is nodding animately with puppy eyes and hands crossed at her chest like a Sunday school teacher.

Emma just sighs.

Maybe she shouldn't be angry. Maybe she should be the seventeen year old who could steal with a smile, and even fake a pregnancy for a gig.

But that girl was young and dumb and naive and hopelessly in love. She knows nothing of what heartbreak could get you. What blindly loving someone can cause when that affection is betrayed.

Now she knows why she can't do this, Emma thinks with startling realization. This feels too much like she and Neal. When they did this to get a couple servings of food, or a few nights at a rundown motel.

What if Regina leaves her like he did? What if she realizes this isn't what she's cut out for, and leaves Emma all by herself to break her down, chilling out the small traces of love Henry managed to thaw out of her hardened heart. What if she—

"Emma, hone" Regina's honey sweet voice interrupts her internal panic.

"Yeah."

"Doctor Stevens would like to see you."

Emma struggles a little to stand, which is ridiculous because she's not that far along, but eventually gets there with faint traces of a frown on her features. She doesn't like this, makes it a point not to hide it, but fortunately for them, it comes off as the reluctant victim who puts up a front to remain strong.

"Hello, Emma" he greets kindly. "I'm Doctor Stevens and I'll be with you today."

Gee, great.

She puts on a small grin. "Thank you, Doctor. I understand this is very short notice—"

"Given the circumstances," he interrupts, and his grey eyes sparkles with sadness and understanding "I am able to change up my schedule. Are you ready?"

Not even close, Doc. Still though, it's time to put on her big girl boots and face the fact that this situation is real, and despite her fears of everything, she wants this. She wants this child and she needs to start acting like it.

"No need to look so excited, dear," Regina smirks, crossing her legs. She looks strange in Emma's clothes while in such a royal pose, but she has no time to laugh at that when Emma's grumpy as hell.

"Yeah, well, I have to pee and you're making me drink a shit ton of water."

"The doctor said-"

"I know what the doctor said."

"No need to be so snippy, either."

"Wha— are you— y-you ,of all people, are telling me that?" The nerve of this woman. "Really? Really."

"Just drink your damn water."

Out of spite Emma lets the rim of the bottle press against her tight lips and holds steady, perhaps a little petulant but whatever, eye contact with Regina before she eventually relents.

Regina scoffs and looks away with folded arms.

Doctor Stevens had told her to drink a lot of water so her bladder can push her uterus out of her pelvis, and he could have a better view of the baby. That sounded horribly terrifying and probably sensing her panic, Stevens assured her that it sounds more graphic than it feels and she won't feel any pain at all.

He also had an emergency to attend and not knowing how long it'll take, he asked if he could bring another sonographer in, just for today. Emma and Regina gave him their thanks—why would they ruin this opportunity by being ungrateful— leaving them both alone in the small, clinical room, waiting for the sonographer.

Leaving Emma alone and irritated as hell.

"Really, dear, are you pouting over there? What is the problem? It's not like you haven't done this before."

When Emma snaps at her it's to just get Regina off her back, or have her foot in her mouth and taste the presumption. She didn't expect to feel the aftermath of her own words.

"Yeah? And where exactly did I have this procedure huh, Regina?"

The thing with Regina is that when she looks at someone, she rarely blinks. She doesn't look away or nervously rubs the ball of her feet in the ground. No, she just stares and stares until you feel every morsel of her words, or yours— until you regret even voicing your opinion and not conceding with her own.

And that's how Emma feels. She feels foolish and petulant bringing up her feelings in jail as a young woman. She feels uncomfortable and awkward that she let Regina hear something like that. And she feels stupid that she would even think that both circumstances are the same, and will be the same.

But it's the truth. And she suddenly thinks of Regina's words before the curse, that seem like light years ago.

What's wrong? Didn't want anyone to know you cut Henry's umbilical cord with a shiv?

It seems like Regina picks up on what is implied and she gives herself a small nod as she stands and pads in front of the hospital bed before Emma, practically between her legs.

"Having Henry must have been difficult with your...living situation, but I assure you that history will not repeat itself. You're not alone, Ms. Swan." Her expression is neutral, tone flat, but there's a certain softness Emma sees in brown eyes, edged with sincerity that make her believe Regina's words.

Thankfully there's no sympathy, or pity— something Mary Margaret inadvertently gives with her sad, guilt-ridden eyes. Emma doesn't do pity because it gets you nowhere, and maybe Regina knows that. Emma didn't take her as a crying-on-your-shoulder type, anyway.

There's two knocks on the door— Regina taking quite a large comical step back— and a younger woman with dark hair to the shoulders comes in.

"Hello," she says, her voice raspy and deep, obviously a smoker, with brown eyes that are calm and kind. "I'm Doctor Natasha Windfield, and I'll be helping you just for today."

Emma makes a tight lipped smile while Regina, ever the politician, goes all out with a handshake. "Thank you, doctor, we really appreciate what you're doing."

"Don't mention it," she smiles. "Shall we begin?"

Emma reclines on the hospital bed, unbuttons her pants, and rises her shirt up to tuck under her bra.

"Hmm," the doctor murmurs, "would you like a gown?"

"We'll save my ass on display for next time, Kay, Doc?"

She bristles at the dismissal, but makes a noncommittal sound in her throat as she applies the blue gel over Emma's fairly swollen abdomen. Regina just sighs.

It feels cooler than she last remembered, but then again being set up and pregnant in jail was not a time for fond memories.

"So you should feel a slight pressure, but no pain. If you feel any—"

"Tell you, I got it."

...

It should be happier, this moment right? Isn't this the scene where everyone make incredulous but adoring googily eyes at the life growing in them?

But it's not. It's the three of them in the room, Windfield looking a mixture of amazed and wary, while Regina and Emma are terrified.

"This is strange."

"Is there something wrong?" Regina could barely restrain the squeak in her voice, eyes flitting from the screen to the Doctor.

Emma watches them speak, but doesn't really hear what they're saying. She knows something is wrong, knew it in the hotel room when that magic hit her, so she ignores them. She doesn't want to hear all of this was for nothing, leaving her parents, allying with Regina, all of it. She doesn't even want to think of herself and the bit that began to accept this child. So she lies back and ignores them. All that comes to her are bit parts of the conversation like 'that's highly improbable' and 'strong beats per minute.'

"Well, Doctor, it must...it must've been something Emma ate to cause this strange heartrate. Or a technical error with the machine." Regina is lying, horribly— almost offensively but the Doctor is so puzzled and confused anything could be thrown at her and she'll eat it up.

Maybe Emma should listen to what the Doc has to say.

...

Well. That's certainly not what Emma thought it was. She figured it was a chance of a mental deformity or high blood pressure but —

"You're telling me my baby has the heartrate of a fucking track runner?! Are you serious?"

"Emma..." Regina's eyes are on the Doctor's but that strong, barely restrained voice is clearly pointed to Emma. It's a warning but Emma is too damn heated. Of all things to happen this— this is bullshit! She thought she miscarried, or imagined the whole thing, getting herself so damn worked up for nothing! Or what seems like nothing. Obviously it's a mistake on Doctor Dumbass over there. Shit like that is ridiculous!

"How in the hell is that possible? I mean, I'm sure a five year old heart is bigger than my baby right now." Okay so she doesn't really know that or how big babies suppose to be at this moment, but she's pissed and a little scared and she just wants to go home.

The Doctor shakes her head. "This is...strange. and it seems to be the heartrate of an adult, not an actual heart, Ms. Swan.

"Moron," Regina comments, long forgotten the role as supportive foster sister in this situation.

Emma strains her head to glare at Regina. "Yeah? Because this is some average fucking trivia I should know, Regina."

"Let's not get too worked up," The Doctor shifts between them, easing Emma back down. "It's obviously a technical malfunction. A fetus with a reading like that would be dead. It's the machine. I can clearly see your baby. About 5.4cm long and that is completely average for an eleven-twelve week old. No indication of a struggle through its lungs. Look the arms. The legs..." As the doctor moves the instrument across Emma's stomach, the tension suddenly lifts. All Emma could do is stare at the small screen, while Regina did the same. "Seems perfectly healthy."

This is what Emma needs. She's always been a woman of fact and mechanics and the thought of something just popping up and growing in her sounded ridiculous. Even with the dozen pregnancy tests that came back positive, the magic that surrounds her that's in fact true, she never quite fully believed in any of it until this very moment of watching a blurry, pixelated image of a baby. Her baby. A baby she won't have to give up. A baby she can...love.

"Wow..." It took the croakiness of her voice to realize she's crying. She tries blinking them away but they've already fallen down her cheeks.

She looks at Regina and expects a scoff or ignoring her all together, but those brown eyes are on her's. Soft and glistening and so very not Regina— and maybe Emma's not really much of herself because she smiles right back, openly sharing the excitement and glow of having this child. A child they won't have to assert their dominance on. A child they could both watch grow together.

Together. We're in this together, Your Majesty.

"Here you go," The Doctor snaps Emma out of her trance and hands her a small paper. "You're twelve weeks along, and your expected due date is August 15th. Doctor Stevens is rather slumped with patients and I'd love to be your Ob-Gyn— but that's only if you're comfortable and you have every right not to— "

"Yeah," Emma and Regina look at each other with a smile, not surprised to hear them both say it simultaneously. And why not? Windfield isn't freaking out about something strange like a flipping adult heart rate— which Regina and Emma will talk about because what the fuck?— and Emma won't feel bad for taking someone else's schedule since the Doctor offered.

"That's wonderful" she smiles, two dimples cutting into her cheeks. "I'll check my book so we could schedule your next official appointment."

With the Doctor busying herself wiping the blue liquid off her stomach, Emma takes the time to actually look at the sonogram. Regina is beside her— hey when did that happen?— and they're looking at what they made together, however creepy and clichè that sounds.

It looks like a funny, puney, barely recognizable thing, but it's theirs and...Emma's smiling, Regina too. She's smiling at what's theirs and what she's going to watch grow and mature and love.

It's—

"What's that?" Regina questions, pointing to the edge of the black and white picture, as she sits on the edge of the bed.

Emma squints, searching for whatever Regina is talking about, nearly giving up but then finds a shimmer of gold just at the edges of the paper.

"Yeah what is that?"

Windfield moves to Emma's other side and peers at the picture, Regina pointing again for clarity, and dark brows lift. "Hmm...that's funny. That wasn't there during the procedure. It's probably just the machine. Again. They really need to fix this thing," she shakes her head.

"That's all it is, right?" Emma asks tentatively.

"Unless it magically came from thin air," Windfield chuckles, missing Emma blanch.

"I've heard stranger theories," Regina chuckles with the superior smirk Emma knows all too well.

"Stranger than magic?"

"No," Emma intervenes, glaring at Regina through her eyes. "No she hasn't because magic isn't real, isn't it Regina?" Is this woman insane?

"Not in this world, that is," Regina shrugs and Emma doesn't know if she wants to laugh or slap Regina in the back of the head. Maybe both. At the same time.

"Alright, Ms. Swan—"

"Emma."

"Emma," the Doctor smiles. "You're all done here. I'll be seeing you soon. Or you both?" She stares at Regina with warmth and curiosity.

"Yes you will," she answers.

"Good."


After the two women leave the room, Natasha looks over her planner just to make sure her patients don't overlap. When Doctor Stevens told her that he'd taken a special patient in without an appointment, she couldn't stop her shock. Stevens was a meticulous man, a real stickler for routine, so when he did this impromptu appointment, she was curious.

Stevens is also an incredibly stupid man. Five minutes in a room with Ms. Swan and Miss Miller, she could tell that they obviously weren't sisters. That's why she offered to be their Ob-Gyn; eventually they would get caught and perhaps the two women were in some kind of trouble, and she wanted to help. It's unethical, maybe a little illegal, but at least they wanted to take care of their child and that had to mean something, right?

She marks their next appointment with a smirk.

"They're obviously fucking."


"Crazy inhumane heart, huh? Doesn't sound so…human-y," Emma sighs as they walk down the street of the hospital.

"Yes, it would appear so."

They haven't said much since they've left. Little things like—more like Emma's complaining— food and Regina's eye rolling and comparing her maturity of a ten year old, but other than that, they've been relatively silent. Emma's not sure if she wants that. This isn't her element—still isn't her element even though she's witnessed and even conjured magic. This is Regina's thing and she's all poised and silent and it's putting Emma on edge.

"Aren't you—I don't know, worried about that? My baby has an adult heart."

"Adult heartrate. I swear you don't listen to anything the Doctor—"

"Regina," Emma tugs her and she'll probably wonder how a diplomatic queen allowed the slight manhandling another day, but right now she'll direct her to the bench right outside of a McDonald's.

Mhmm McDonald's.

"Don't even think about it," Regina tuts, apparently reading her mind. Or maybe watching her drool.

"Regina this is serious. There could be something wrong—"

"There is nothing wrong. The Doctor—"

"Can only see what's in textbooks. A fetus with an adult heartrate? Ridiculous. Random gold stuff popping in the sonogram picture? Obviously the machine acting up. She's a woman of fact so she won't believe something dangerous like magic can hurt me."

"Emma." It's amazing how that voice could go from sharp, jagged knives, demanding authority, to the calm, placidity of a warm summer day. It actually…calms her down a bit. "Aside from Rumplestiltskin, my mother is the most powerful person I have ever known. She's made it a point for me to know that at a very young age."

Emma's mouth opens, ready to ask what she means by that, but the slight shaking of the head tells her that Regina isn't ready to spill family secrets any time soon, and that she's making a point.

"She's very powerful and she destroys everything she touches. She wanted you dead and you're still here, heart intact. Don't you think it's possible that you transcend that strength on to our child?"

Hmm, Emma hadn't thought of that. Well to be fair to her, there is no reason a normal person should even brainstorm half of these things anyway. And she's still in the dark about all of this magic shit so—yeah sue her for not knowing that strong hearts are apparently hereditary.

"I guess," Emma grimaces, still not liking the sound of having such power within her and not being able to access it. "But she saw it, Regina. What are we going to do next appointment? Tell her every single machine doesn't work when we only use it?"

"I suppose your…deal with that imp should do the trick."

Regina looks nearly constipated, having to admit that Emma's right and it brings a huge smile on her face. I'm right. "See," she drawls, "it was a good idea, after all."

"A deal you should've consulted with me," Regina sniffs, but still not denying that Emma's correct.

"But I did the right thing," Emma's smile is full on now, all teeth and smug. "C'mon, Your Majesty, admit it. C'mon," she does insistent hand motions to her ear, putting on a show. "Say it. Ms. Swan was right and she's not as stupid as you make her out to be."

Regina growls.

"C'mon."

Regina huffs.

Emma smirks.

Finally after a minute of warning brown eyes on smug and amused green, Regina finally relents with an exasperated sigh. "Fine," along with an eye roll. "Since you insist on reverting to such childish behavior. Your impulsive act of assistance helped in our favor this time."

Emma stares expectedly.

"What?"

Emma continues to stare. "I don't know, 'Gina, I didn't hear a 'you were right' in there."

"One," Regina grits her teeth. "If you cannot take the time to annunciate my whole name, don't say it at all Ms. Swan. Two, this conversation is honestly the most useless—"

"Regina."

"Urgh, fine, you are right, okay? Your presumption that every impulsive move you make will work in your favor actually worked, just like your parents. Is that what you want to hear? Gods you cocky little—"

"You're welcome," Emma smiles, totally shutting her up.

"Yes, not that that is settled, can we go get something to eat and discuss our living situation? Or do you want to sit here and rub in this meaningless victory?"

Ever the pride with this one, Emma muses.

"Yeah I'm ready," Emma laughs, watching Regina stiffly get off the bench.


They decide to go the supermarket in the small chain mall out in Brighton. It's not that long of a drive from the hospital and it gives time for Emma and Regina to rethink their thoughts in silence. Apparently it's true and she does have a magic baby. Well, she knew that already, seeing that a child is in her and she didn't sleep with a man, but still; she knows there's magic outside of Storybrooke, and she could do it…sometimes? That's a lot to take in. What are they to do? What if she is like a ticking time bomb on the world and a sneeze could be the detonator, or something.

Okay maybe that's a little dramatic but—

"You're thinking too hard, dear" Regina remarks, eyes still on the road.

"It's just a lot to take in, y'know."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"Hey why aren't you freaking out about this?" Emma turns to her, fingers caught in her hair. "I mean, the minute Henry found out about the curse you did everything in your power to send me away. Now you're acting like having magic outside of Storybrooke isn't a big deal?"

Regina looks thoughtfully at the road, as if she, too, is confused at her lack of passion. Maybe she's evaluating her life and her choices and her own psyche, but after opening her mouth, nothing comes out but a grumble in her throat.

"I don't know, Ms. Swan. I don't know."


Food shopping was never really Emma's thing. She was the Roman noodle, takeout, occasionally steal some candybars, kind of gal. Even in Storybrooke, Mary Margaret did the weekly shopping. So for Regina to leave Emma alone in the fruit aisle, she felt silly that she didn't know what kind of apple to get Regina—apparently they are more specific than 'red' and 'green'—and she's a little irritated by that. She's a grown woman, damn it. This should be easy!

A soothing voice interrupts her from behind. "Good to know some things haven't changed, M&M."

Surprised from the voice, she loses hold of the Granny Smith and it tumbles to the floor. Only one person has ever called that in her life. "Shit!" she hisses, turning around, but her face immediately softens when that voice matches to a calm face she hasn't seen in…wow she doesn't even know.

"Prentiss?" Emma cheers with a big smile, apple long forgotten.

"Hey, Ems," she responds with a grin just as warm, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

There lies her old friend Emily Prentiss in front of her with a basket full of fruit and a large smile. She hasn't aged much, maybe a few lines around the mouth and the stress of the job in her brown eyes, but other than that, she's same ol' Em. Emma, after the year she's been through, needs some familiarity and it's standing right in front of her.

"Shit— it's been…like five years?"

"Yeah, about that," Prentiss smiles.

"What are you doing in Boston?"

"For work, unfortunately."

Just when Emma was about to get into more cordialities and maybe exchange numbers, Regina rounds the corner with her general irritated expression. Somehow Emma knows that's just the way her face is at its natural state and there's nothing wrong.

"Ms. Swan I give you one task and it somehow manages to be difficult…oh." Regina stops her rant, the rant that Emma rolls her eyes at, and offers Emily a cautious smile. "Hello."

"Hi," Prentiss replies politely.

"Regina, this is an old friend—more than that really," they both share a chuckle at that. Regina remains silent. "Special Agent Emily Prentiss."

"Really, Em? Formalities?"

Emma laughs. "Last time some dude called you 'Miss' they had a knee in the gut and I can't really…" Instinctively her hand goes for her stomach for emphasis, but then she forgets—just for a moment—the life there and the small swell. She frowns a little, but puts on a grin when Emily's eyes light up, darting from her stomach to her eyes.

"Oh my god, Emma! Congratulations!" she exclaims in a gasp. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Well—"

"Regina Mills," the former Mayor offers a hand, ever the one for the attention.

Emily takes it, and like Regina's her shoulders square. Her smile is demure.

Really. It's always a power trip with this woman.

"Special Agent, hmm?" Regina recalls and she actually looks impressed.

"I work for the BAU. That's the—"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit," Regina answers with a fake smile. "Suburban life didn't make me that dumb, dear."

Emily arches her brow. "I never—"

"Okay," Emma buts in with a stiff smile. "Let's start this over. Emily Prentiss, Regina Mills. Regina Mills, Emily Prentiss."

Jesus always Regina trying to show off her big dic—okay so it's not really that since she's been in that, but still. The ego with this woman is ridiculous.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

Regina smiles again, but it's still heavily faked. Emma knows it, Emily—who reads people for a living—sees it, and hell Regina owns it.

"So you're here on business?" Emma tries to clear the air these two women thicken. Yes, they both are the most possessive women she knows.

Emily sees the way out, but decides to play Emma's hand. "Yes we picked up a case here. So you're back in town?"

"Only briefly. To—" she looks down at her stomach, not knowing how to finish that. To have a magical child conceived by the woman beside you—she's the Evil Queen, friendly reminder— and prove to a made up town of fairytale characters that this baby is not Satan, even though I don't really know it's Satan just yet? Yeah, that didn't sound right.

"To have her child," Regina finishes, subtly moving closer to Emma's side. It's probably unconscious rather than asserting dominance on a child that's not even threaten, but Emily catches it. She doesn't point it out but Emma sees that knowing glint in her eye.

"Oh, you're having it here?"

"Uh yeah."

"That's great! Where're you staying?"

"Uh…" In a fairly decent hotel doesn't sound really cool to say to Emily. Friend or not. They at least moved from the really bad motel they stayed in the first night, but the one they're currently booked is temporary. No place to prepare for a baby and such.

She looks to Regina for comfort, but Regina just shrugs.

Emily nods and it's that nod she's seen when they were teenagers. Where Emma doesn't have to tell her that she has to watch out for a 'funny' foster 'dad', or that she doesn't have money for lunch. She just knows and Emma loves her for that, and five years didn't change a thing about her intuition.

"I'm bone deep in this case and I'm always at the station. If you need to stay in my apartment—"

"That won't be necessary," Regina smiles.

"Yes it's very necessary and I appreciate it, Em." Emma glares at Regina, silently commanding this is not the time for your wounded pride. "We appreciate it."

Regina glowers and the Queen—still so very much one, even in black jeans and a tee shirt—takes a deep breath and nods, offering a quiet "Thank you, dear."

Emily smiles, pretending she's ignorant of the mental battle Regina's having. "Good. Let's buy these first!"


The apartment seems so much like Regina's manor, all whites and black furniture, spacious, carefully placed black and white art on wide walls. It's spotless- aside from the coffee table that's littered with crime scene photos and DD5s—impersonal and barely used. Like Emma, Emily is quite the drifter, only she doesn't do it for financial means, but something she prefers.

"You have a lovely apartment," Regina comments, eyeing the large living room and floor length windows with approval. She must also see the similarity of her own home and she sighs, just a little.

"Thank you. Do you two need anything?"

"Actually, if you could point me to your restroom, that would be lovely."

"Down that hall, third door to your right."

"Thank you." With a polite nod, Regina is out of the room.

Prentiss takes a quick peak that Regina is in fact in the bathroom, before she looks at Emma with puffed cheeks.

"She's like that with everyone," Emma says, already knowing what her friend is thinking.

'Ah. You were always into fiery women," she smirks.

Wait, what? 'Whoa- Em, that's not… she's not my girlfriend!" Where the hell did that come from?

"She is your child's adoptive mother, no?"

"Well yeah, but…"

"And this child that you are carrying seems important to her."

Emma runs her fingers through her hair, trying to do anything to stall for an answer that's nearly impossible to give without telling the truth. The fucked up, 'get shipped into a psych ward' kind of truth, that is. "It's for Henry—he's our kid," she goes with. "He asked her to help me out, and she did."

Emily makes a sound in the back of her throat, but that glint in her eyes show that she's not buying Emma's story one damn bit. Damn her and her profiling skills. "Those are your jeans she's wearing—'

Emma's cheeks redden. "She ran out of clothes."

"Her whole outfit is Old Navy, but her bag is Berca and wears it without effort. I don't mean this to sound rude, but I have a nice home and she's very comfortable around the finer things in life. Women like that don't run out of clothes, Em. So what the hell kind of trouble did you two get into for her to sacrifice all of that?"

Her heart gallops in her chest as Emily waits with a blank stare. Usually could tell this woman anything, or nothing and she would still manage to find out, but this is one thing that must be held in secrecy. She can't even tell her the great news of finding her long lost parents because that would open a can of worms that she could never fully explain.

"Em," she swallows, biting her lip. She gives the door Regina a look before her eyes are back on her old friend, whose amusement dropped the second she heard the warning in Emma's tone. "I just need you to trust me, okay? We're not together but…we're in this together. Please don't ask me why we are because I don't want to lie to you."

Emily, despite Emma's immediately request, puts a hand on Emma's shoulder while the other rest on her holster where her gun sits protectively. "Emma are you in danger—"

"No! Not really," she corrects, shrugging of the hand subtly.

"Emma just give me a name and—"

"I can protect myself," she eventually snaps, growing tired of being interrogated.

Emily's eyes widen, large and brown, as she takes a small step back. They haven't spoken in five years, but this isn't the first time that they've been separated from each other. Yet somehow they always found a way back to one another—go figure, Emma would think wryly had she not been frustrated by this conversation—and it had been like it never happen. Five months here and there seems like nothing, when they had years of friendship.

But now Emma is resolute in remaining silent. Yes she regrets snapping at Emily like that, but she needs to show her how serious this is. "I know you're looking out for me like you always do," she sighs, biting her lip. "And I deeply appreciate it— I really do. It'll be a whole lot better if we didn't say much about this. All you need to know is that me and Regina had to make a last minute run. I guarantee that no one can track us here—"

"But how could you be —?" Emily snaps her mouth shut when Emma lifts her brow. Yet another warning. "Fine," she sighs. "Stay here as long as you need. You know that. But seriously if you ever change your mind and you want my resources—"

"I know where to find you," Emma smiles softly, pleased that this conversation is coming to a halt.

Emily nods to herself, still not liking the sound of Emma's secrecies. The blonde had always been a private person, especially about necessities she couldn't get on her own, but even she would tell Emily if something involved the danger of her child's other mother.

It didn't sit right with her. But she'll drop it…for now.

There's the sound of a door opening, and moments later Regina returns to the living room. There's space between the two women and they're not finding each other's eyes.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks, darting eyes between blonde and brunette.

"No," they both answer, and that makes Regina's eyes narrow.

"No," Emma says again. "Let's just get settled."


"Are you sure everything is fine between you and your friend?"

"Peachy."

After Emily left for a business call, Regina prepared the chicken they bought from the market, some greens, and potatoes that Emma appreciated with gusto.

Regina's food is really good when it's not laced with poison.

"Still a horrible liar," Regina shrugs, taking a sip of wine.

So not fair that you could drink.

"She just wants to know what we're running from."

That sparks Regina's attention. "And what did you tell her?" she all but demands.

"I told her that you knocked me up with your magic, and that a town of fake people stormed us out of a fake town."

Regina, now seeing that she's using sarcasm, rolls her eyes. "So what did you tell her?"

Emma moves the cut pieces of her chicken around, nibbling on it a bit. "I told her not to ask me questions."

"That's it?" she raises her brow. "And you expect her to stop just because she asks you? The woman gets paid to figure out the truth for a living, Emma."

"She'll do it because I asked her to."

"And she'll blindly follow what you say because…?"

"Because we're friends. That's what friends do. You wouldn't know about that."

"Friends," Regina muses, seemingly ignoring Emma's little jibe at the end. "She isn't more than that to you?"

Well, Emma thinks. Regina's eyes remain on hers, expecting an answer. And Emma just sits there surprised that the question was even made.

"Does it matter?" she goes with, taking a sip of her flavored water.

"I was just making conversation, Ms. Swan." Regina cuts up her chicken in tinier pieces. "No need to be so defensive."

"I'm just confused of the question. I haven't seen Em in forever and the first thing you think of is that?"

"She seems intelligent, attractive—beautiful, even, with a career. Well," she puts her head down, but Emma could see the wicked little smirk. "We both know that you don't hide your attraction for beautiful women."

Emma flushes and looks away. It was a matter of time before they spoke of their night together, and though they discussed of everything around it(the baby, how people would react to said baby, the things they have to do, etc.) they never actually talked about the fact that they had really, really hot hate sex against Regina's wall and Emma really, really did not want to have that conversation.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Regina," she clears her throat, taking another sip of her water, really wishing it was something stronger.

It seems that's the answer she's looking for. Regina smiles. "I suppose we're never having the 'we had sex' talk, hm?"

"There's nothing to discuss. I was there, remember?"

Regina replies, her voice soft and a little coy, "That I do."

It makes Emma shiver.

"No, me and Prentiss never had a thing." She decides that talking about an old friend would ward off the memories of Regina's thighs and the sounds she makes. "Her mother adopted me when I was ten."

"Oh. I…can presume that that wasn't permanent."

"No. Her mother was a dictator and barely had time for Emily, let alone a new kid. She gave me back four years later."

"But you and Ms. Prentiss kept contact."

"Yeah. We didn't know each other long but we got really tight. She's like my big sister."

"How sweet."

"It's funny," Emma chuckles at the thought. "That she'd thought we had a thing."

A flash of something crosses brown eyes, but before Emma could decipher it, it's gone. "Oh?"

"Yeah?" she laughs somemore. "Emily said I always did like complicated women."

"Hilarious."

Judging from the twitch of her mouth, Regina did not find it amusing.

That means Emma did. "Suburban Mayor, single mom. Actually evil queen of a cursed town? Kind of complicated, Regina."

Regina hums. "And a lost orphan, bounty hunting ex-con solely born to be the Savior of a curse she never knew existed? I could see the complication."

"Bitch."

"Language."

"Go fuck yourself."

"I'm too tired," she drawls. "Would you like another serving? Hearing your fork scrape against the plate is grating."

Emma rolls her eyes, but gives Regina the plate as she heads to the kitchen.

"So tell me."

"What?"

"Since I am trapped in your friend's home, ran out of my own town because you didn't want me to kill those overzealous idiots," Regina rolls her eyes as she passes Emma her plate. "You might as well entertain me."

Emma briefly glares at the woman across the table, wondering if she should reveal any more of herself than she has already. But then she thinks Regina has a point; they're alone, stuck together, bored as hell in her old friend's apartment outside of Storybrooke. Might as well do something to pass the time.

"I thought Rome was beautiful at first. Gorgeous sites, huge ass house. It seemed like my dream finally came true. That I found my Annie.

Regina squints her eyes. "Your Annie? I thought her name was Elizabeth?"

"You know. Annie, the play? The movie?" Emma deadpans, like it was obvious—because shit it was, but Regina's eyes remain blank. "Little Orphan Annie?! How could you possibly be so uncultured? What the hell did you do all this time during the curse?"

Regina sniffs, "Take care of your son."

"Oh no you don't get that excuse. The kid is ten. You had eighteen years to be an actual person in the real world."

"Are you going to tell me your silly story, or not."

Emma shakes her head. Regina's so ignorant of pop culture it's embarrassing. "Annie was an orphan in a movie who got taken in by a rich family. So when Elizabeth and Emily Prentiss took me in I thought I got my shot."

"But things had gone wrong."

"Not really," Emma shrugs. "A week in that place I figured out Elizabeth didn't really want me. It was all for her image. Taking in a girl who was left on the side of the road in Maine? Made her seem like the total humanitarian."

"But she wasn't, apparently."

"She wasn't like other foster families. She didn't try to touch me, or rough me up. She just didn't care. And Emily was miserable. So naturally we clicked and we've been inseparable ever since. People called us M&M. Because, y'know, Emily and Emma. Her mother did everything in her power to keep me away from her, but Prentiss does what she wants."

"Sounds familiar," Regina drawls.

Emma smirks. "Guess that's where I get it from. Elizabeth thought I was good enough to take in for her, but tainting her only child was a totally different story. When she realized that separate homes—yeah the bitch actually moved Emily out on her own at sixteen—she figured I was best to go back to the orphanage she got me from."

Regina shakes her head. "That's horrible."

Emma lifts her brow, seemingly surprised when no bells of a lie rings in her head. Regina, the murderous tyrant, actually finds something morally reprehensible. Who would've thought?

As if Regina could read her mind, she nervously adds, fidgeting with her napkin "Despite who you are, or what you do, you should always love your children."

"She wasn't my mother."

"She took you in as one. That was wrong of her to give you…false hope of a happy ending."

"Regina, the woman who took all the happy endings from an entire civilization, is peeved at one opportunist who took an orphan back? Talking about pot and kettle, huh."

"Yes. That is right. Pot and kettle."

"She wasn't evil, Regina. Just a cold bitch."

"There are many forms of evil, Ms. Swan," she frowns. "Not just the murdering kind. Those who choose to be a mother, should come to terms with the responsibility beforehand. Making your child feel unwanted and lonely…" she closes her eyes, brow fluttering as if she's trying to clench away something, a memory, perhaps of her own past or her own sins, Emma isn't sure, but it's brief. A fleeting moment of unadulterated pain, before her face washes back to a distant downturn of the lips and blank eyes.

"Even I would find that cruel."

Woo yes now the fun can begin. Like learning how Emma got pregnant, potential super powers and life back in Storybrooke. Please review por favor and tell me what you think :)