This is a triple-chapter update. Please read the previous chapter before proceeding. Swan-Mills family adorableness ahead! Enjoy.
On the drive home, all of the positive energy she absorbed during the meeting is soon replaced by guilt. Before leaving work that evening, she knew that she would have to see Robin, speak to him. She wasn't supposed to feel good about it. But it felt okay. It felt easy. It felt natural? If she is being honest with herself, the conversation was unremarkable. Her thoughts return to the only person who makes her excited, happy, complete and frustrated, while keeping her safe, all at the same time. No one could ever compare to her greatest love. As she pulls into the driveway, her nervousness grows. She can't lie to her wife about seeing Robin. Maybe Emma won't ask.
Upon entering her home, all of Regina's fears dissolve when she catches sight of the picture perfect image of her family, all three of them, seated around the big screen TV, which Emma insisted they buy. At least the purchase turned out to be a wise investment. Regina smiles when she spies the open pizza box on the coffee table in front of Henry. She planned to help herself to one of the remaining slices before retreating upstairs. The measly salad she had earlier was not a sufficient dinner. She had already forgotten about the scone.
Henry turns in his seat on the couch. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom," Emma calls from her recliner, another necessary purchase.
"Hi, my loves." Regina uses the fact that the littlest member of the family hadn't noticed her come in to her advantage and leans over the back of the couch to place a single kiss on the top of her unsuspecting baby's head. Instantly, the child looks up from her seat to discover her favorite person, her mother. "Hi," Regina playfully greets. Even behind her binky, baby Emma's smile matches her loving mother's. "There's my girl," Regina cheers as she effortlessly lifts the reaching child into her arms. She kisses baby Emma again before holding the child's face against her cheek. "Did she give you any trouble tonight?"
"Nope," Henry answers. He presses the pause button on the remote in order to give his mother his full and undivided attention; also he didn't want to miss any of the action. He would simply rewind a little bit before resuming.
"Granny wanted me to give you this." Regina hands the box of sweet treats to her son.
"Granny was there?"
She nods. "We sat next to each other."
Emma leans over the armrest of her chair to sneak a peek into the unmarked, white box. "What did you get, kid?"
He opens the box. "There's a bit of everything in here!"
Regina agrees. "I'm just glad there was enough left over."
"Were there a lot of people there?" Henry takes an enormous bite out of a gooey brownie. The sweetness complimented the savory taste left by the pizza.
"Surprisingly, there were more than I thought there would be—maybe fifteen."
"That's cool." Henry is clearly preoccupied with the decadent chocolate.
The baby is currently playing with her mother's necklace. She often tried to put the swan pendant in her mouth, but the chain was not long enough to accommodate. Also, the binky deterred her. She would have to introduce the object to her mother's mouth instead. Regina didn't mind, she adores her baby girl.
"So, what have you two been doing?"
Grown-up Emma notices Regina's failure to include her, but decides not to take offense at the error. She knows it's not personal.
"We've just been sitting here, watching the Game," Henry answers. Even though his sister couldn't speak, he appreciated her company. Shows are a lot more enjoyable when you have someone to share them with. And baby Emma never minded her brother's commentary. If she did, she never gave any indication.
Regina reproves her son. "Henry, that's too scary for her."
"The kid seems to like it," Emma comments.
As if understanding and wanting to be included in the conversation, the child points to the screen.
"What is that?" Regina encourages. "Do you see a dragon?"
"Yeah," Emma draws out. "I think our daughter's got a thing for dragons."
Regina raises an eyebrow.
"She gets it from you, ya know."
Henry reaches up to tickle the distracted child. "I think my sister's got a dark side." His voice is filled with pride.
"No," Regina whines. "She's my sweet baby." She kisses Emma's little face. "I missed you," she whispers against a tiny ear. Apparently, the feeling is mutual. "Come on sweet girl,"—she kisses her again—"you and I are going to watch something nice."
Before making her exit, Regina snags one of the remaining slices, completely overlooking the fact that the toppings failed to include a single vegetable. At the first delicious bite, the baby in her arms tries to use the proximity to her advantage.
"No pizza for you, little one," Regina chides. Normally she wouldn't talk with her mouth full, but in present company she is not self-conscious. "It's almost time for you to go to bed."
"I gotta bail, kid." Emma rises from her chair. "All those idiots are gonna die anyway."
"Regina, don't be mad. You know Henry loves Pizza Thrones."
When Emma was still alive and acting Sheriff she normally worked late on Sunday nights, so she wasn't able to watch Game of Thrones with Henry when it originally aired. As a solution, on Monday nights, Emma and Henry would watch the most recent episode together on HBO GO and either order pizza or bake one at home. They fondly referred to the event as Pizza Thrones. It was Henry's favorite part of each week during the summer. He was determined to carry on the tradition once the new season started. Though Regina did not share her wife and son's enthusiasm for the show, or junk food, she did appreciate not having to cook.
"Emma shouldn't be watching that. She's too impressionable."
"The kid's seven months old; she's not going to remember."
"I'm not taking any chances." She looks wounded. "I don't want her to be like me."
The child is currently crawling around her mother's bed, futilely searching for anything she can get her hands on.
"Regina, there is nothing wrong with you." Emma adds, in hopes of breaking the tension, "Well—not anymore."
Regina sends her wife a stern look.
"I'm kidding. Baby, it's not your fault you turned out the way you did." Now Regina looks genuinely offended. "I get the distinct feeling I'm making things worse, so I'm just going to shut up now."
Regina inhales deeply before speaking. "I just want her to be better." She begins rubbing her baby's back.
"She's going to be fine," Emma soothes. She adds, "More than fine. She has you to look out for her." Regina's worried expression is reason for concern. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I don't want to be like my mother."
"Regina, you are nothing like her. Believe me, I know." Over the last couple of years Emma learned the reality of what Regina endured when she lived with Cora.
Though marring Emma's grandfather was less than ideal, at least Regina was able to escape her harsh existence living under her mother's rule. As much as she didn't want to be like the woman, magic was a way for Regina to protect herself. She vowed that she would never let anyone destroy her spirit again. Her mother had turned to magic for similar reasons, which is why Regina often had difficulty separating her identity from that of the abusive woman.
Emma's voice softens, seeming to wrap Regina in a hug of understanding. "Honey, listen to me. You are not Cora."
Regina lifts her baby when Little Emma wanders too close to the bed's edge and sets the child in her lap. Little Emma didn't appear to mind, she loved being close to her mother. And Mommy was wearing a particularly fun bangle—if only she could get it to her mouth.
Regina kisses the back of her baby's head. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears that tell the story of unspeakable heartache. She sniffs. "What sorts of things did you watch when you were little?"
"Um,"—Emma thinks, she is eager to change the subject—"Duck Tales?"
"Is that a cartoon?"
"Well," she hesitates, "yeah." Her inflection suggests that she is about to say something that would be unpleasing to Regina.
"Please don't say it."
"Look, I know how you feel about—"
"Don't say it."
"Babe, trust me on this. If you want her to be like me you're going to need to embrace—"
"Nope."
"Disney."
Regina winces at the dreaded word.
"I know, I said the D-word. But, there are so many classics I think Emma would really enjoy."
"I'm not buying that garbage that isn't even an accurate portrayal of me." She stands and begins creating a corral with pillows for her baby girl.
"Not you of today," Emma continues, "but was it really that off base? Now my mother, I agree, that was tragic."
"I don't know. I think the only thing Walt got right was the portrayal of your simpleton mother."
"Okay, what did she do now?"
"Nothing."
Regina spots an opportunity to play her daughter's favorite game. Already on her hands and knees she ducks behind a pillow wall. Without missing a beat the baby searches for her mother. As soon as Little Emma spots the top of Regina's forehead she squeals in anticipation. Regina's eyes are next to be revealed. She is smiling. After popping over the side of the pillow fortress Regina peppers her very happy baby with a multitude of kisses, eliciting the most adorable laughter.
"It's a good thing I'm already dead, because I probably would have had an aneurism from the overload of cuteness," Emma observes.
The proximity helped Regina share a secret with her child. "Your mother thinks she's a comedian."
Emma is on a roll now. "Maybe in my next life…" When she spots Regina's un-amused expression, she dwindles. "I'm done."
Satisfied, Regina switches tasks. "Maybe I'll give it a try if it will make your daughter happy." She retrieves the remote from the nightstand. Before Emma lived there it didn't occur to Regina to have a television in her bedroom. So much had changed.
"You might want to wait until morning," Emma advises. "The only cartoons on at this time of night are on the Cartoon Network or Comedy Central. And I doubt you'd find either of those appropriate."
"Let's just see." Regina determinedly flips through until she lands on a promising channel. "What is this?"
"It's Duck Tales." She is genuinely surprised. Satisfied, she informs, "I believe you found the Disney Channel."
Regina's confusion is evident. "I wasn't aware we even had this."
Emma seizes the opportunity. "If you had known, you probably would have made our TV explode."
"Not necessarily."
Emma clearly disagrees.
"Maybe," Regina admits. "Here you go, baby. Watch some nice"—she gestures toward the screen—"whatever this is." She introduces one of Emma's favorite stuffed animals to the corral before kissing her again. "Will you watch her while I finish getting ready for bed?"
"I got it."
Striding toward the chest of drawers, Regina begins undressing, starting with her t-shirt which she removes in one fluid motion before fishing her favorite sleep shirt that once belonged to her wife out of the second drawer from the top.
When she had a body, the sight of her wife's nudity would fill Emma with overwhelming desire. Now it only adds to the ever pervasive loneliness, serving as a reminder that she will never again feel the woman she loves. She doesn't even remember how it felt to touch Regina. Though she still has her memories, can remember what being with her wife meant to her, she can't associate any sensations. It's torture missing something that you know you had. And, at one time, Emma had everything. One thing's for certain: she can never forget love, how it felt to love this woman and to be loved by her. She struggles for words, not wanting to indicate that anything is amiss. Damn you fire tears!
"Pretty soon you're going to have holes in that thing."
Regina pulls the buttery soft garment over her head. "I like this shirt."
"I know you do." Her smile is warm.
"It," she hesitates, "makes me feel better."
All Emma wants to do in this moment is hold her wife—just hold her. She understands that Regina wears clothes that once belonged to her in order to feel connected. It must be so much harder for Regina, Emma imagines; her body can still remember sensations, which probably makes their absence even more unbearable. She only hopes that the t-shirt provides some comfort.
"So, what happened?" During the meeting is implied.
"I shared."
As soon as Regina's back is turned when she walks toward the sink in the adjoining bathroom, the baby looks up in the exact direction of her blonde mother. Emma takes notice.
"Oh, good." Her response is automatic. "How did it feel?"
Emma studies her daughter's quizzical expression. If she didn't know better, she would think that Little Emma could see her. Just then, she notices her baby girl knit her brows.
"Shit."
"Did you say something?" Regina calls over the rushing water.
Emma tries to sound convincing. "Nope. Not me." She needs to pull herself together or Regina is going to suspect something. "I think it was the TV."
"Oh." Regina accepts that as a satisfactory explanation and resumes the nightly task of washing her face.
The baby appears to appraise her blonde mother as she sucks on her binky, simultaneously kneading her favorite stuffed animal, relishing the softness of the faux fur between her fingers. She reminded Emma of Regina when they first met, who always seemed to be sizing her up. Now she is just as uncomfortable. She wouldn't know what to do if her baby could see her. And it would definitely worry her always practical wife. On the other hand, if her baby could see her, then she would know her; she would know without a doubt that she had two mothers who love her unconditionally and would do anything for her. But that would be selfish, Emma tells herself. It would only cause the child heartache once Little Emma realized her mother couldn't hug her. Fortunately, Regina is too distracted rehashing the events of that evening to notice her wife's internal struggle.
"It was horrible," Regina groans for dramatic effect. "My feelings just came gushing out. I couldn't stop them. But everyone there made me feel welcomed. They were supportive and encouraging. I've never experienced anything like that before." "Outside of my family," she adds.
Regina wrings out the washcloth before exchanging it for her toothbrush, to which she promptly applies a one inch strip of paste.
"You know we love you." Emma keeps her focus on her daughter who is carrying on her evaluation.
"I do."
Emma tries to bring her daughter's attention back to the TV without alerting her unsuspecting wife. She would be finished with her nightly regimen soon.
"You're a lovable person."
Regina looks into the mirror to catch her wife's eyes. Thankfully, Emma's ghost sense told her to look up at that moment.
"Now you're just being ridiculous."
"I like making you smile," is Emma's sheepish response. She notices her baby sigh in frustration and resume television watching. Satisfied, adult Emma argues with herself about whether or not she should ask the burning question. Fuck it. "Was he there?"
It wasn't a spit-take. According to Regina, the timing was coincidental. She inadvertently chose that exact moment to rinse her mouth.
"You mean, Robin?"
"Yeah," she confirms.
Regina methodically draws out a long strand of dental floss before replying. "Yes."
"Was it weird?"
"Surprisingly, no."
"That's good." That's not good.
"I suppose."
"Well, how did it feel when you saw him?"
"Fine—it was just fine." She repositions the floss. "To tell you the truth I didn't feel anything."
"Oh."
After completing her ritual, Regina flips the switch in the en-suite bathroom, turning off the light. "We talked for a little bit after the meeting, while we were cleaning up." Apparently Emma finds this scenario hilarious. "What?"
"You cleaned?"
"Emma Swan-Mills." Her cadence conveys her disapproval.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," Emma laughs. The hysterics probably have something to do with the stress brought on by narrowly escaping her daughter's silent interrogation.
Regina sits on the bed's edge. Her mood is somber. "You are the only one who gets my heart racing."
Emma is clearly moved by her wife's devotion and even more aggravated that she can't hold the amazing woman. She redirects her longing to their daughter. "Look at her."
The baby is cuddling with her bunny friend, completely hypnotized by the animated characters on the screen.
"Well, it seems you were right," Regina comments.
"I told you it was a good idea."
