Summary: Emma finally decides to move out of the home she'd known for half her life.

Special thanks to Alexander S. and AtomicStryker - thanks for your support!

"Billy?"

"What? You don't like Billy?"

"No... it just seems uninspired, doesn't it? Was that your first choice of our baby's name?"

"Oh God, no. And the name is very inspired, thank you! I mean; it was gonna be either that or Lyle."

"Billy, though? Who the hell do we know named Billy?"

"Billy the Kid is technically a fairytale. At the very least, it's folklore."

"So, you wanted to...? I'm not finishing that question, you most certainly didn't name your baby brother after a criminal-turned-folk hero." Regina leaned back leisurely, relaxing in the passenger seat of her own car, for the first time in a very long time.

She used to be possessive of her black Mercedes. Years ago, she was always wary of Emma driving, having seen her go at speeds her yellow bug should've taken off and fluttered away at.

It was somewhere between her house arrest and the dreaded wraith's return, when Regina realized that maybe Emma was the best driver in all of Storybrooke (or at least, it was another thing her subconscious magic allowed her to do, much like her lie-detecting ability). Her little yellow bug had been hanging by a thread for at least a decade, and she controlled it with such finesse and speed that... just wasn't possible. It should have broken down a long time ago, and it could only be because she was really that good at handling it. Or magic. But Emma's pride wouldn't allow that answer.

She'd never driven it herself before they repaired it, of course. She didn't trust herself in the driver's seat, and begrudgingly, Emma admitted that she didn't feel comfortable with her partner driving it alone, without a closed course, a tighter seatbelt, a new set of tires, working wipers, a fresh airbag (she didn't even know if the thing would deploy, or even pop like an old balloon, at this point) a more reliable transmission and a ton of traffic cones - not for her, but for any other cars in the vicinity. Before complete control of her magic returned to Regina fully, the bug had literally dozens of problems, and was a complete and utter hazard to manage.

On the plus side, dealing with the car was a teachable moment, as Emma tore the car apart and put it back together, and Regina fixed the parts that needed fixing, under her then-girlfriend's guide.

It was one of the sweetest eighteen hours of community service she could remember.

And though she loved Emma, she had a very hard time trusting her judgment to just an extent. She was plainly aware that there were... relations in this car. Emma probably lost her virginity in this car. It wasn't something she liked to think about, but she didn't really have a choice when she looked at it. Re-upholstering helped, but not by much.

Granted, she still accepted Emma's offer of rechristening the bug when they were done fine-tuning. They had set off the alarm a couple of times, and her neck was so stiff afterward, but it was oh so worth it. Like Emma had switched into a new gear – not literally, thank God.

It didn't assuage her jealousy, however.

'Not a lot of floor space for kneeling.'

'I know, right? Try living in there.'

And just like that, in such a casual banter, dropped in a simple, heavy statement, she felt guilty. The blonde had fond memories of her car, but she didn't think of Neal, not at all. She thought of her life; her home. It was where she had, technically, lived the longest. Multi-day stake-outs, moving between apartments; so much of her life began after Neal, and even Henry.

July 21, 2013
14 months after the curse break
2 months after Regina is released from jail
... 29 days before the Wraith's Return

"My Bug was with me at my lowest. It was the most precious thing to me in the world for a good few years. It was the baby I could actually take care of. Hell, that thing took care of me."

They sat in the front, the trunk open and facing the moon, and as always, it was a snug fit, leaving Regina to rely on Emma's waiting embrace.

She shifted, her hands resting on the Sheriff's arms around her waist, looking up at the sky. They had managed to find a cordoned-off parking lot to rebuild the car, and decided to take advantage of the spacious (and hidden) area to view the full moon.

"You don't get views like this in the city." Emma hummed, spying the stars that made up the constellation. "Too many lights. So many sounds. It's almost uncomfortable. Eerie."

"You brought most of the noise pollution with you to Storybrooke. I'm sure they were grateful."

"Ha-Ha. Get 'em out of your system, they're irrelevant now."

She conceded to that one. That, and the origin story of the (still atrocious-looking) red leather jacket, limited the targets of her amusement.

At least she would always have Emma's mother to make fun of. She couldn't change that.

"Hmm... I wish I brought some wine."

"Not cider?"

"Nah. We have enough cider. I've seen your cellar."

"Anything you like?"

"Nothing I'm capable of translating. I don't want to fuck around and drink 'liquid hair of dog'. I'll need some French lessons before I try drinking anything."

"You certainly have the tongue for it."

"I aim to impress," she purred, and the former mayor shivered.

"Let me brew something to cure this stiff neck before you pull me into the backseat again."

She chuckled. "I don't think I wanna try that again. I damn near smashed the back of my head through the window. And you were kicking so much..."

"That's what the cushioning charms are for, darling."

"I'm not keen on stress-testing it with my skull, y'know? Had enough hard knocks up there as it is over the years."

"I thought your hard-headedness was only a figure of speech. I never thought it practical."

"Only when I'm being particularly ignorant."

She said nothing in response, only humming in agreement as they observed the night skies. Not a cloud to be seen as they basked, and reflected, in each other's presence.

In literal terms, she was over twice Emma's age, yet she had never laid back and simply looked at the moon, especially a full one. She was always far too busy in life, whether it was her mother's grooming lessons, spending time with Rocinante and Daniel while looking over her shoulder, an endless war against Snow White and her father, running a kingdom, and eventually, a town, her eyes always down on Henry, and never up. The first, and last time, she looked at the moon and really appreciated the view, she wished for a miracle, and instead got Tinkerbell.

And though her options had been forcibly limited, circumstances trapping her in this moment, she didn't mind one bit.

Lazily waving her hand in front of her, a large bottle of red wine appeared between her thighs. "While a beer might be more apt in this occasion for a job well done, I'm not against a nice wine."

Emma reached forward to grab it, sliding her lips along her neck as she did so. "No glasses?"

"Unnecessary," she murmured. "We're big girls, aren't we? Try not to spill any on the new upholstery."

"Cushioning charms, but no anti-mess spells?"

"I can't let you be too reckless," was her simple response, and unfortunately, it made far too much sense to the blonde.

She chose not to comment, using her incredibly useful swiss army knife in her jacket breast pocket to uncork the bottle and taking a delicate sip.

Then, she took a less than delicate swig.

She smacked her lips. "Where did you get this? It's delicious!"

"I'm glad you liked it, I made it myself. I summoned it from the cellar."

"And you never used this power in jail."

She mock-gasped. "I would never!"

"Oh, I'm not complaining. I would have liked you to share, maybe..." Emma quickly checked the label. "Les Poils Liquides du Chien," she muttered slowly, and despite her inability to speak the language, she could pronounce the words impeccably. She wrinkled her nose. "The something liquid of... something?"

Regina blinked innocently, looking back at her lover. She moved her neck about when the blonde stayed quiet, wondering if she was being trolled.

Finally, she sighed and took another swig. "I swear to God, if I wake up a werewolf..."

"Then you will have my permission to be the first flesh you devour."

"I'll hold you to that. Granted, I planned on doing that anyway. I think I'm more powerful as a werewolf if you invite me, so, bonus."

"I don't think those are the symptoms of a werewolf, in this or any realm."

"Hah! So you have been paying attention to the movies I feed you!"

"Despite your constant distractions."

"We should do this again. Build a Drive-In. This just feels like a town that should have one."

"I'm sorry our quaint little backwoods village doesn't have IMAX."

"Oh, I'm sure you would have built one by now. I can't imagine you ignored all of my suggestions in our meetings."

She absolutely did. Even when she admitted that they were good ideas(silently, in her head, when there were no blonde-haired witnesses to look smug), she threw them away all the same. She could hardly be blamed for her past mistakes, though - back then, Emma was easy to hate, and Regina was hard to love. "Did Mother Mayor not approve your ideas?"

Emma scoffed. "You're under the assumption that she cares enough about this town to maintain it, or that she'll talk to me about anything other than mother-daughter bonding, or what-the-hell-ever."

It was a constant conflict in her mind; Emma not getting along with Snow White, her mother - was that a good or bad thing? Was it because of her? Should she be pleased if it was? Should she wish that Emma try to reconcile - ?

No. No, she wasn't quite there yet. Maybe in time. But she wasn't nearly drunk enough to admit that, not even to herself.

"Snow White sees everything a certain way - and that's the only way she sees it. If it disagrees with her narrative, she ignores it or tries her best, or even worse, hopes that the problem turns into her truth. Usually, it does." Her eyes fluttered. "You'd be surprised at the lengths she would go to blind herself to the truth. She's a princess at heart. Cora would have loved her."

"Hmm... maybe." She didn't dispute a word of it - mostly, because she didn't know Snow White all that well. Mary Margaret, however, seemed to have the same ideals and concepts, even through wholly different and fabricated memories. "She keeps fucking around with that stupid hat, she and your mom might run into each other."

Regina refrained from noting that they made a hell of a tag team the last time they came together. She refused to let that memory weigh her down tonight. "I suppose, in any realm, meeting the lover's parents is never a pleasant experience. I'm glad we found each other to spare anyone else the burden."

She could practically feel Emma's smirk as she kissed her bare shoulder, and the witch hummed, sighing contentedly.

It was all a dream; it had to be. From what she had once been, to what she was forced to become, to have it all come back to where she was now. Each day, she was beginning to realize that she wasn't living a dream at all, but rather, finally waking from a terrible nightmare.

How ironic it was that her mortal enemy's daughter was the one to wake her from an enchanted sleep.

"So. I think I'm ready to give up this car."

She blinked rapidly, coming back to herself. "What?"

"Sixteen years will be long enough, I think. I'm gonna miss this damn thing, I tell ya."

"Emma... is this the wine talking?"

Her paramour snorted at that. "I've had enough alcohol in my life to know how much is in this bottle, 'Gina. I'd be surprised if I got a buzz."

She huffed. "Fine. Are you pretending to let the wine do the talking?"

She smiled fondly, despite her girlfriend's irritation. "You've been pushing me to get rid of this car for years, before you even liked me. I'm glad you love it as much as I do, now."

"That's... that's not the point. Why would you get rid of – " she paused abruptly, Emma's puzzling words smashing through her senses. "You didn't have this car for sixteen years. You've had it for thirteen."

"I knew you were more than a pretty face," she teased, toying with the tiny designer buckle on her waist - unbuckled, purely because Emma liked fidgeting with it. "I'll give her a deadline on the drive-in theater. Three more years, and I promise it's gonna take all thirty-seven months to wean myself off of my baby. Maybe a motorcycle..."

'Thirty-seven,' she mouthed silently at the convoluted wording, before she did the math again.

Henry's fifteenth birthday.

She laughed, pure and rich, into the silent night.

Regina thought she had the most perfect view in the world as her eyes fell upon the full moon above, but Emma would vehemently disagree. Nothing was more beautiful, so precious, so vividly heartwarming, than it was to see Regina Mills's exquisite laughter under the moon's glow.

Two full months out into civilization, and Storybrooke hasn't changed much - visually, at least. Though she admitted she didn't miss the savoir-faire (the act of pretending that literally everyone else in town didn't get on her very last nerve every time she had to interact with them), she missed the opportunity to solve problems, the chance to right what she perceived to be wrongs, the influence that she once had.

The town was no different. The people, however, seemed to be regressing, and she didn't hesitate to share her concerns with Emma.

"They have their rightful queen back. The Evil Queen has been successfully dethroned. The Dark One is no more." She chuckled ruefully. "Now they have all the time in the world to ignore their own demons."

"I didn't know you did it as a public service."

"I am - was - a public servant, Emma. I won't say I didn't enjoy the power I had, but at least I was useful. I ran a well-oiled machine. Beautiful, visually and in its practicality. I didn't run this town on hope, that's for goddamn sure."

For the first time, stress wasn't even a word in Regina's lexicon, and Emma took pride in the fact that her little yellow home helped her make it possible, Its distracting nature bellowing in full force.

The five months she spent with Neal didn't matter. Whether Henry was conceived in her Volkswagen or not (and, thinking back, she decided he definitely was – they were both too cheap to do anything anywhere else) was irrelevant. As far as she was concerned, Emma Swan – the real Emma Swan, Bounty Hunter turned Sheriff turned Savior, done with relying on letting destiny find her, prepared to take on the world by herself, dreaming of a legacy every time she stuffed herself in the backseat to sleep and perched in the front to work – Emma Swan was truly born here. Her dreams, her eventual reality, her fantasies for a better life were molded, took shape into something tangible, inside her bug.

It truly was her home. In more ways than one, she had outgrown it, and it deserved to allow Henry the same chance. Granted, for someone with a home, and every house and establishment within walking distance, it wasn't much. But it was nice to have a 'wild' car around.

And sure, it wasn't some motorcycle or horse or realm-jumping ship or sentient race-car, so maybe Henry won't be as excited as she hoped he would be, but it earned all the lofty expectations she had burdened onto it, because it was the toughest goddamn friend she had, sans the woman in her arms.

Luckily, she no longer had to think about putting Old Yellow down anymore. It was a calculated move, on her part; if they hadn't fixed it up, then there was no chance in hell Henry would have ever gotten the chance to sit in the driver's seat. The fact that Regina was willing to indulge in her silly project, for what she once considered a piece of mustard-colored scrap metal, had nearly put tears in her eyes.

...Okay, so it did put tears in her eyes.

Discretely wiping at her face, she took another sip, before offering it to her girlfriend, who gladly accepted the bottle.

Getting home, now that was another problem altogether. While she didn't mind sleeping in the bug one last time, her girlfriend might have reservations.

Oh, well. Guess they'd have to cuddle until someone sobered up. It would be awkward to have some concerned citizen pull the sheriff over. He, and Snow, didn't have to know about their relationship just yet.

Regina didn't complain when Emma offered to drive, seeing as she would soon be in no condition to. She needed to get accustomed to the pregnant lifestyle, and she had absolutely no qualms about not having to lift a finger. Normally, she hated being coddled (Ever since she lost her handmaidens after the curse, God, did she hate being coddled), but Emma knew her personal limits to a nearly terrifying accuracy. Surrendering what power she had would be a difficult journey, but it wasn't anything new.

Who was she to argue with her patient, beautiful, all-powerful and all-giving beloved?

Before she knew it, Emma was parked, and already offering her a hand on the passenger side.

"I'm not struggling to get out of my seat quite yet, Emma." She gestured to her not quite flat belly, even as she took her wife's offered hand. "But I appreciate the chivalry."

"Anything for my two favorite girls," she whispered with a deep bow, and Regina froze.

"...Did... did you say – ?"

"I don't want to hide anything from you," she said suddenly, holding her hand tighter. "Yes, I'm some-knowing and all-powerful, and yes, I can accidentally shatter the multi-verse through a bad dream or a sneeze or some shit, but I can't - function, without you." She took a deep breath, drawing back from her wife's slacked hands to stuff her own into her black jean pockets. "What I did to Snow was fucked up. I know it, and you know it, and I'm owning up to it before... I don't know, you start thinking that I might do that on the regular, or something. I swear I haven't, by the way. But you know how I felt about that name. It was disrespectful to me, and only me, and I try to use my power for the both of us, for you. I fucked up so much for so long, and this lone wolf mentality shtick is my past. You were well within your rights to use the dagger on me."

"Yes..." she begrudgingly agreed, giving her a perplexed look. "But it was funny."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be so funny if I did that to Henry," she muttered, as serious as she could be. "Or Violet. What if the paranoia gets to me, if I think she might want revenge for what happened to her dad? You know how this family operates, right? It's damn near a curse."

That was an incredibly valid point, and the fear showed in her eyes - not of the idea of Violet seeking her revenge, but the idea of Henry never forgiving her if anything happened. Revenge for the death of a family member, or future family member, or anything remotely close, was a bad trend in their lives that Emma had always promised herself to end.

"But you wouldn't." There was no force behind her statement, not even confusion. It was a simple fact.

Her eyes began to water. "Sometimes, I want to take your pain away. Sometimes, I want to erase our past, and start anew. It would be so easy..."

"You wouldn't be the first to think that. And it certainly won't be the last time. And I have every idea how easy it could be." She stepped closer, raising her chin. "You know my history of manipulation. My grooming. My distrust. You are on a very exclusive list, Emma. I'm very happy discussing your temptations, but acting on them would be a massive betrayal of trust."

"You know what they say about absolute power."

"I do. I know what they say. But I know you better." She grabbed her wrists and raised them out of her jeans to her chin, squeezing their conjoined hands between them. "I'll use the dagger if you ever get out of control. I won't hesitate, I promise. But the first thing I'll do is to tell you to stop worrying, and do what you feel is right." She leaned forward, kissing the blonde tenderly, and Emma broke down in her embrace.

She pulled back after a few scant seconds, smiling fondly. "Not many could be trusted with such power, Emma. A blessing, or a curse, whatever we call it; it is yours, and yours alone. But the fact that you trust me, to set you straight and make the right decisions and save you, is telling on how far we've both come."

The Darkest Savior grinned in delight, reaching up to roll her thumb over her cheek. "I just... yeah, I worry. I don't want you to think that it's all going to my head. The white hair and black eyes are cool and all, but I want to keep the face that you fell for. I can't be a trophy wife with scaly skin. I just can't be."

"Another cut to put on my lip," she muttered encouragingly, and Emma broke into a deep chuckle that sent shivers up and down her spine. "And for the record, that name was disrespectful and offensive to me, as well. I love your little brother, Emma, but it was always difficult to bring up his name, for what his namesake did to you and Henry. Granted, it's a much better name than Leopold, but I imagine that's the equivalent for you."

With practiced ease, she slipped her arm around the brunette's waist, slipping her fingers into the belt loops of her bathrobe. "So what do you really think of the name 'Billy'?"

"As a girl's name, I have a few choices ahead of that." She licked her lips. "But as stated before, I know you. You clearly gave him that name for a reason. It wasn't random."

"It wasn't."

"So...?"

"Emma, Regina! Are you two coming in or not? I had the door open for a good five minutes!"

Emma waggled her eyebrows, while Regina's mind did backflips.

Billy. Or Lyle.

She supposed there wasn't really a more appropriate male version of 'Lily', was there?

She grinned coyly at Emma's reflected smile. "I suppose you're here to tell her about her legacy?"

Emma shook her head. "I want to talk to Mal, first. Tell her it's not cool to reveal secrets."

Before she could inquire further, a massive explosion of pink dust blasted through the front door, followed by heavy coughing.

"Mazel tov," she muttered dryly, and Regina's lips formed into a thin line at the pink cloud, growing pinker, that was the Dragon's Nest.

"You wanted to tell me before she could."

"If we didn't come, she would've sent a text. I suppose I could've silenced your phone, but... she seemed very insistent to inform you, for some reason. We coulda made a sitcom out of it, but as I said, today won't go down as one of your favorites."

She nodded absently, silently contemplating to herself. She must've come to a marvelous conclusion, because she suddenly flicked her fingers at the house, and the pink dust abruptly spun into hot red flames.

Silently making a reminder to get to work on that inhibitor cuff sooner, rather than later, she did nothing as she leaned against the car and watched.

Anything for her two favorite girls.

Next Chapter: A very special Interlude, on the incident that has been hinted to, and started the real journey. Technically.
This was just a sweet little aside, for the most enduring and flamboyant character in OUAT, not named Rumple.

Sammii16, Aaron Leach, and FourOfTen - Thank you so much for your reviews, and I'm glad you're still hanging on for the ride. We're at the half-way point!

Please review! I can't improve or make the story any better if I'm writing for myself. Imagine I'm a comedian with a silent crowd! Rise up, hecklers!