Mid-Week Update :)

I've broken this next part into 2 chapters, so it will be "Michelle Part I" and "Michelle Part II." The Swan-Mills gang is about to get bigger. Some great make-ups are on the way and at least one more BIG break-up.

Thank you to anyone who replied last chapter with ideas and suggestions. They were helpful.

Hope you enjoy "Michelle Part I!" Leave lots of comments; I feed off of them lol. Thanks.


Six Months Later.

Monday mornings were never very exciting. But this Monday morning, Henry determined, was just plain torturous. His moms had been fighting for the past week and the tension was thick and overwhelming like hot breath after coffee and an everything bagel.

His plan had been to run into the kitchen, make some cereal, and get out in less than a minute. He'd timed it all perfectly in his head. What he hadn't accounted for, however, were the bullets he'd have to dodge just to make it out in one piece.

Regina and Emma were both standing on the far end of the kitchen preparing their respective lunches. Emma on the left - slapping together a hoagie too thick for anyone with a normal sized mouth to consume - and Regina on the right, filling a small container with salad dressing.

Henry attempts to quietly slip in, grab the cereal, the bowl, some milk and a spoon and bring it all into the dining room before either of them has a chance to say anything to him. He makes it to the bowls and quietly takes one from the cabinet. He slips a freshly cleaned spoon from the dish rack, careful not to clank any other dishes around. He even settles on Honey Bunches of Oats instead of Captain Crunch because the latter is too far back and will attract too much attention as he tries to get to it. Now for the milk...

Emma's standing closest to the refrigerator. 'Move with speed, grab and run? Or move slow, ease it out, and tip-toe the hell out of here?'

He decides to try the slow and steady approach - you know, no sudden movements. To his bewilderment, the inside of the refrigerator is lined right down the middle with red tape. On the left is a carton of milk with Emma's name. Underneath her name (written in different handwriting) the words 'Big Fat Baby' are scribbled. To the right of the tape, there lies a second carton of milk that reads 'Regina Mills.' The add-on text (which is obviously Emma's handwriting) reads: 'has got a stick up her ass! I mean really - why put your last name on the milk as if it's gonna get mixed up with the other Regina's milk?'

"Um, whose milk can I use?" the boy chances a question.

"You can use mine, Henry. You don't ever have to ask to use anything of mine," the brunette woman sweetly says.

"Just beware not to use the last of it. If you do, run to the store immediately after school and don't come home without a suitable replacement otherwise she'll feast on your soul for dinner!"

"Unlike some of us, Henry knows the difference between organic 2% and the liquid fat you drown your arteries in."

Emma scoffs, "Oh, please. Henry, which do you prefer - my regular old whole milk, which is delicious over your Captain Crunch as a late night snack, or your mother's 2% paste water?"

"Um..." They watch him expectantly, so he avoids the question altogether. "Which one of you is going to pick me up after dance practice tonight?"

"Tell your mother it's her week to do pick-ups," the blonde demands.

Huffing in a deep breath before he speak - because, seriously? - "Mom, it's your week to -"

"Henry, tell your other mother that I'll be working late tonight and she'll have to do pick-up."

"Ma, Mom's gonna be working late -"

"I'll be there, kid," she offers with a smile.

Henry spots some vanilla coconut milk on the door and decides it's a much safer choice. Finally, he grabs his breakfast and leaves the war zone.

Emma eyes her girlfriend with concern and suspicion. Not really sure if she's more concerned or suspicious, she allows herself to speak directly to the woman.

"Regina, that's like the fourth time in a week you've had to work late."

"Yes, well, when you have a job that actually requires hard work you don't always get to leave on time."

The statement was designed to cut. And it did. Without the heart to come up with an equally biting comeback, the sheriff grabs her lunch bag and turns to leave. "Fine, Regina."

"Okay, Emma wait," Regina grabs her elbow to keep the younger woman from leaving. As Emma turns to face her, she doesn't quite make eye contact with Regina. The brunette runs her hands through sunshiny tresses.

"Don't be like this, please," she gets no response in return except the blonde's refusal to look at her directly. "Emma Bear," she smiles.

"What is it? I'm gonna be late..."

Giving up on trying to sweet-talk the sulky savior, she relents. "I will try to leave at a decent hour to be home for dinner, okay?"

"Yeah," Emma nods.

"Emma?"

"Okay, Regina."

Brown eyes scan pale features to try and determine if a kiss would be well received. She takes a step closer to Emma but is given a cold shoulder - literally. The blonde turns away, collects her things and leaves.

The front door closes - not terribly loudly - and it causes her to flinch. Emma had been full-time living at the mansion for only a couple of months, but had been staying over most nights even in the months before moving in. In all their mornings spent together, today marked the first day they'd departed each others company without a goodbye kiss.


It was around 12:30 that afternoon and Regina was not at work. In all honesty, there wasn't much "mayoring" to do. Well, there were some things that could be done but they were minor things and could put off until tomorrow... or next week... or whenever.

But it was around 12:30 and instead of sitting around the office pretending to be busy, Regina was posed outside of a stranger's front door preparing herself to knock. Most likely this woman wasn't home. It was the middle of the day and most people work. But after all her searching and tracking, she needed more answers. And it couldn't wait.

You see, it wasn't just whenever a familiar song would play on the radio that she'd think of her old friend Gus. Lately she'd been thinking about him a lot. Not like that - just missing him, kind of. And even worse, she'd been feeling the guilt of not fulfilling her friend responsibilities after his death.

During the curse, he would talk on and on about this girlfriend of his. He loved her a lot. At least he thought he did. He'd told Regina that although they weren't sure, they thought she might be pregnant. He couldn't wait to be a father. He rambled about what he'd name her - he just knew it was going to be a girl. Michelle. He liked that name. Something about his grandmother - maybe it was her name.

After the curse was when he realized he wasn't as much in love as he'd thought. Actually he wasn't in love at all - at least not with that woman. Turned out, she was kind of a dick. She wanted status and money and all he has was love and an honest living. But she was pregnant. That much he knew. The last thing Regina remembered him saying as she ran into him outside of Archie's one morning was, 'It's going to be a girl; I can feel it.'

She'd thought about checking in on the baby and it's mom from time to time, to lend a hand if needed. Being a single mom was tough - she would know. Regina, however, had money and a stable career. She didn't know if this woman had any of that or not. But she was determined to make sure that if Gus' child needed anything, she'd be there.

But she wasn't. She'd let that responsibility slide with all that had gone on in Storybrooke since the breaking of the curse. Her guilt was getting the better of her and she had to make it right.

So here she is. Standing outside of Maria Gorkowski's home at 12:30 in the afternoon, hoping to somehow make up for being a shitty friend.

Three tentative knocks and what feels like an eternity later, the door swings open rather aggressively to reveal a young woman clad in high-waisted leggings, a bra and curlers in her hair.

"Look, didn't I tell you -"

"I -" the mayor stammers.

"Your Majesty... I thought you were -"

"Nevermind, it's quite alright. I suppose I'm the last person you'd expect at your door."

The young woman offers nervous, yet entirely fake, laughter. "How may I assist Her Majesty, the Queen?" she makes a dramatic show of respect with an altogether unnecessary curtsey.

"Please, you may call me Regina or Ms. Mills. I'm looking for," she looks down at a post-it note in her hand, "Maria Gorkowski? That's you, I presume?"

"Yes ma'am. However, in our land I am Anastasia Tremaine, daughter of Lady Tremaine."

'Social climber.'

Regina knew she'd recognized her face. Her voice. One of Cinderella's awfully abrasive step-sisters. "Gaudy" and "Tack-isha" as she'd dubbed them back in the E.F.

'How in the hell did Gus ever get himself involved with this trash?'

"Miss Tremaine, I realize you may not be prepared for company, but may I come in? I'd like to talk to you about Billy Helm... Gus?"

Apprehensively, the curler-headed woman steps aside allowing Regina in; she leads her into a small dining room off the main hallway.

"Would you mind giving me a moment to make myself presentable, Your Maj - Regina?"

"Of course," a polite smile as she waits patiently, cross-legged on an old wooden dining chair.

Regina takes in her environment. It's modest, but there are a few things that catch her eye. For example the china cabinet full of photos and articles cut from magazines like Glamour, Cosmo, Vogue. 'Sexy vs. Skanky.' 'How to Maintain Class in a Room Full of Trash.' And the best one: 'Dating Up: Sugar Babies on the Rise.' Photos of Anastasia with a variety of older men adorn the shelves of the cabinet. It's like a shrine to her sugar daddies and benefactors.

Strangely though, there are no pictures of a child. None. And even more strangely, no toys or any other signs of a toddler in the house. Of course, given the nature of the relationship (or lack of) between Gus and this gold digger, perhaps there never was a baby to begin with. From what the mechanic had told Regina, she wouldn't imagine the woman to be above lying.

Or maybe there's another explanation. False positive? Miscarriage? Abortion, maybe? Whatever the case, there was no baby in sight.

"So sorry to keep you waiting," the redhead returns with a top on and rollers taken out of her hair.

"No worries," Regina begins. She clears her throat, "I don't know how much you know about me, or if Gus ever told you, but he and I were good friends."

Anastasia curls her lip up in ill-hidden contempt at the mention of his name.

Brows furrowed, the brunette continues, "I take it you didn't think too highly of him?"

"With all due respect, Regina, that's between me and him. And he's dead, so it's my business. What is it exactly that you want?"

'Oh, so that's how it is, bitch?' is the thought that comes across in the older woman's single raised eyebrow. Maintaining composure, she licks her lips and states her business.

"As I mentioned before, Gus and I were good friends. Before he died he told me the two of you were expecting a baby. I realize I'm rather late to the party, but as a friend, I thought I should check in on his child every now and again. I just want to make sure things are okay with you. This may be an overstep, but from the look of it there are no children living here. Was he correct? Was there actually a baby?"

"Yeah, there's a baby. She -"

"It's a girl?" the mayor muses. "He knew he was going to have a daughter."

"She lives with my mother," the expressionless and daring look in her eyes told of a lie.

Regina had actually seen Lady Tremaine in the park some days with Ashley's daughter, Alexandra, and never once had she seen another baby with them. "She does?"

"Yeah. I'd love to bring her back to be with me, but times are hard for a single working mom. And poor little - Angelina -" she eyes a magazine on her mantle with Angelina Jolie gracing the cover, "is going to be needing special glasses soon..."

Playing along with this little charade, "Special glasses? Must be expensive."

"Oh, yeah, like four...five hundred dollars."

"Could I see her? I'd really like to meet her. She must be a beautiful little girl."

Anastasia smiles a cold, tight smile, "You know, I just don't think that would be best. Of course I could be persuaded if someone would be so kind as to make a generous donation toward Angelina's "special glasses." That someone will have earned a little visitation."

The former queen takes a moment to breath and count to ten, but only makes it to five before she raises up out of her seat, dragging the extortionist up with her by her cheap, neon t-shirt and getting right in her face.

"Listen to me, you little hood booger! I have run out of patience. You will answer my questions honestly or so help me, I will be 50 shades of Evil Queen all up in this bitch!"

Hey, sometimes you gotta sink to their level to make a point.

"Please, Regina. Everyone knows you've gone soft. You're a good guy now. You wouldn't dare," she tests.

"Am I? Am I really? Or is this just my greatest ruse yet? Are you willing to test your little theory?" the brunette snarls wickedly. She tosses the other woman back into her chair. "Did you give birth to Gus' baby or not?"

"I did."

"Is the baby alive?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"What's it worth to you?"

'Really? Really, bitch?'

The fireball Regina forms in her hand speaks volumes in terms of price. The mayor's sudden calm and collected demeanor translates to creepy. "You tell me everything - I don't light your ass up."


Mayor Mills stomped up the path to the Fairies' Parrish. At quick glance, she looked the Mayor Mills of old - crashing stilettos down onto pavement with heavy purpose. But with more scrutiny, you'd find the subtle difference hidden within the wrinkles between her eyebrows. Rather than rage and spite, these wrinkles told a story of concern and urgency.

Some of the nuns - or fairies, as they were - look on as the determined woman searches for the office of Mother Superior. When she finds the door with the appropriate name plate, she enters without knocking.

"Regina!"

"Blue... Mother Superior... I apologize for my rudeness. As you well know, I would not have sought you out if I weren't in serious need of your assistance."

"Have a seat please," the slight woman offers. "What can I do for you, Madam Mayor?"

"I'm looking for a child."

The blue nun opens her mouth then closes it again, unsure how to respond appropriately.

Regina continues, "More specifically, I'm trying to locate the daughter of Billy Helm and Maria Gorkowski. I understand the mother no longer wished to care for the girl and brought her here? Is she in your care?"

Blue gets up from behind her desk and opens her office door to Regina. "Follow me."


There are a few cribs and child-sized beds in the small and surprisingly quiet orphanage.

"There aren't many children in Storybrooke in need of homes," Blue explains, "but for the ones that are in need, we try to provide a comfortable and loving transitional environment before they can be placed. As you can see, these walls are home to but one small child. We call her our little Butterfly," she says affectionately.

A small girl, about two years of age, sits on a play mat building some sort of block structure. She's quiet; there aren't any other children around, so she entertains herself.

"Butterfly?" Regina takes in the sight as if the girl were but a mere illusion.

"When she came to us, she was very small and undernourished. She was skittish and didn't respond well to human touch. But she's been growing every day and really coming into her own."

"I just don't understand why she wouldn't have found a family yet," the brunette kneels down beside the child to take in familiar features.

Adorable. She has Gus' deep brown orbs and easy smile. And luckily, she's taken only the best features from her dreadful mother.

Her attention focused on watching the baby girl play methodically with her blocks, Regina questions, "Have you done everything you can to find her a family? I find it hard to believe there was no one willing to take her in. She's the most precious, gracious little girl."

The baby holds up a red block; offering it to Regina, she waits patiently until the woman takes it and plays along.

"It's not always a matter of a family choosing a baby; sometimes babies wait for the right kind of family to come along and they are the ones who make the choice." When the girl smiles easily at her new friend and offers up another block - green this time - Blue observes, "It appears little Butterfly is quite taken with you."

"Michelle. He wished to call her Michelle."