A/N: Hi. This chapter was an absolute pain to write, and I don't think it is my best work. But I wanted to get this up for you guys. Thanks for the new follows and reviews. Hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

4.

Before

Everything hits her all at once.

The bad things: the fight she had with the shepherd, the terrible dreams that she and Henry have been faced with, and not to mention, her favorite suit doesn't fit anymore.

The good things: Henry telling her that he loves her for the first time in months, no more morning—should be anytime—sickness, and feeling her baby move for the first time.

And today, she finally gets to see him.

She has only seen him once before when she came to confirm her pregnancy all those weeks ago. The scan is more detailed now because it is her twenty-week anatomy scan. On the monitor, she can see her baby's heart beating. Can see the little legs that are kicking her from the inside. And her undoing: her baby is sucking his thumb. Oblivious to any of the things, good or bad, plaguing her life so far. And she just wants him to be okay.

If the young sonographer takes any joy in the fact that the former Evil Queen turned mayor has been reduced to tears, she does not show it. Instead, the girl—she doesn't look a day older than twenty, but they are in Storybrooke, and stranger things have happened—offers her a kind, reassuring smile. Tells her that everything is going to be okay. Since David decided the last time, she saw him that their baby was a boy, she again declines to reveal the gender. She doesn't need a doctor to tell her something she already knows.

She is relieved, after an hour of waiting for her follow up with Whale, that her baby is doing great and there are no concerns after reviewing the anatomy scans. If everything progresses well, and it should Whale confirms, she will have her baby in her arms before the end of March. Her due date is March nineteenth but, as she learned from her internet searches, first babies tend to be late.

The internet—Google, specifically—has been her only confidant throughout her pregnancy so far. She is not sure how she survived all her life in the Enchanted Forest without it. It has explained to her in wildly graphic details what she can expect during each week of pregnancy. It told her what to expect at today's twenty-week anatomy scan. Told her that it may be good to eat something beforehand to get the baby active. And as of today, her baby is roughly the size of a banana.

She has nowhere specific to go after her appointment since she took off for the day in preparation for it. Henry is in school, and she supposes she can go and pick him up early for the day. But she can't very well do the same thing that she scolded the shepherd for doing recently. So, an hour later she finds herself walking down the baby clothes aisle of one of the local shops.

The first thing she buys her baby is a yellow and white horizontally striped onesie with a lion stitched into the center of the chest. Typically, she is not a fan of vibrant colors, but her options are limited because Storybrooke doesn't have a large selection of clothes retailers. And this tiny, little zero-to-three-month size thing makes her smile. She cannot wait to see her baby in it.

"Congratulations, Madam Mayor," she frowns when she narrowly misses a collision with the man on her exit of the shop.

She leaves him with a nod. "Rumple."

She goes to see the shepherd next. The last time she saw him she told him that she never wanted to see him again after he let it slip to Henry that he was her baby's father. So far, he has obliged. They've only communicated by phone or through text. It's been three weeks and she feels it's only fair that she extends an olive branch, show him her ultrasound photos. They'd asked if she wanted to get the 4D one, but she'd rather wait until he gets here before she sees his face. She doubts the shepherd cares if the pictures or 4D or not.

He is standing behind his desk, phone to his ear, shuffling through a stack of papers when she walks into the station. The shepherd offers her one glance before turning back to his task at hand. He drops the papers down on the desk with a sigh of frustration and scratches his eyebrow. Firmly, he tells the person on the other end, no, don't do that and holds up an index finger at her. She stands there awkwardly on the other side of his desk, waiting. A full two-minutes pass before he ends his call.

"What do you want?" She startles having turned her attention to the cell that kept her hostage after the townspeople stormed her house and the Charming clan locked her up. David's face softens immediately once the words leave his mouth and offers her an I'm sorry. She knows he means it, didn't mean to snap at her. She could tell by his phone conversation that he's had a long day.

"I-I just got back from an appointment," she stammers, caught off guard.

"Everything okay with him?"

"Yes."

"Good," he says. "I'd love to hear about it. But there's a thing happening down at the mines."

"Oh…okay," she says. "You should go."

"Stop by the loft later?"

She nods and watches him go. There's still four hours until Henry's school lets out.

She shows up at the loft a little after eight, she texted him and told him that she'd rather wait until after Henry was asleep. His nightmares have kept him up late recently and she knows he's tired. His body needs to catch up on the missed sleep.

The shepherd does a double take at her appearance. She is wearing dark denim jeans (which took a considerable amount of time to get over her thighs) and a red blouse. Her hair that has grown thicker and longer during her pregnancy has been pulled away from her face with a hair clip. He has seen her naked, but the sight of the mayor dressed down gives him pause, she thinks with an eyeroll.

She spies his makeshift bed on the couch in passing when he invites her in, and she goes up to check on Henry. He sleeps in the center of the bed with his head buried under a pillow. Henry stirs when lifts his head and places it on top of the pillow, but he doesn't wake. She kisses his eyebrow before heading back down.

David asks her if she would like a drink and when she declines, he apologizes for running out on her at the station later. She nods and realizes that he is waiting for her to sit, so, she does. At the island instead of the couch, though he's moved his pillow and blanket to rest neatly and folded on the arm.

"I am not sure how to do this," she tells him after a brief silence.

His lip quirks up in amusement. "Apologize?"

"Among other things."

"A simple 'I'm sorry' will suffice," he says. "But only if you mean it."

"I…had this dream two nights ago," she chews on her lip, remembering in vivid detail how she jumped off the couch where she'd fallen asleep. And she wishes that she did accept his offer for a drink, if only to distract herself. She instead turns to tracing patterns on the wood. "I was in labor, and they wheeled me to labor and delivery. There was Whale and two nurses that I've never met before in the room with me. It felt like hours, but I finally pushed him out, and they placed him on my chest…"

She brings her hands to her chest like she is receiving her baby and she shudders as she thinks about the dream.

"I was alone in that moment and that terrifies me. The things I've read online…I don't want to do that alone."

He nods in understanding, not daring to interrupt as she continues.

"I saw our baby today, David," she says. "And it made me realize just how real this is. How real he is. And I have not been fair to you."

His right leg is bent at the knee, and his boot rests against the fridge and his back leans against it. He stares at her but there is no trace of fight in his eyes. It's a thought that occurs suddenly and she's not so sure she likes that she has become accustomed to reading the shepherd. He is reading her also, waiting for her next move.

"So, yes, I am sorry," she says and gestures toward her stomach which is considerably larger and rounder since the last time he saw her. "I know I am difficult. But, if you would like to do this, with me..."

She hands him the ultrasound then not sure what else to say. And the shepherd looks so astounded that he is looking at the baby inside her, she fears he will either cry, break into song, or hug her and she is not sure which is worse.

After

Something is different. Her mother senses have been in sensory overload since she opened her eyes this morning. A billion nerve endings run rampant beneath her skin like ants. A flashing beacon, a warning. But she cannot put her finger on it.

Archie smiles at her from his seat on the leather armchair adjacent to her spot on the larger couch in his small office. The smile she gives back is more of a grimace. She has been having—or, noticed—Braxton Hicks contractions since Sunday evening. They are not painful but coupled with her jittery, maternal instincts, they are not pleasant. She rubs the palm of her hand up and down her stomach. It is more to soothe her than the baby, who is sleeping now.

This was Emma's idea—making an appointment to see Archie. She does not know when it happened exactly, but Emma has been around a lot these last few weeks. The young woman, who is still processing the fact that her birth parents are Snow White and Prince Charming from a land of fairytale characters she used to read about, showed up on her doorstep the morning after her confrontation with Snow. She said some uncool, shit, Emma told her. But this isn't about her or you or me. It's about your baby. And a stress-free pregnancy is the best kind of pregnancy.

It's already too late for her pregnancy to have been stress free. But she does want these last five weeks to be as stress-free as possible. If that means biting the bullet and allowing Emma Swan into her home, then sobeit.

While they still have their differences when it comes to Henry, Emma is the only person she knows who has given birth in this realm. And as much as she hates to admit it, she would very much like her insights. Though, so far, Emma has only left her with straight up, get the epidural.

Now, she's here. Despite Whale's recent threat to lock her in the hospital on bedrest for the duration of her pregnancy if she didn't just rest. He'd said it in a stricter, more explicit way. There's still anger in him about her dark reign but he's going to do everything I can to deliver a full-term baby boy this spring, but you've got to help me out. At least she's sitting.

Her mind tells her to run, run, run! and she misses Archie's next question. She raises an arched eyebrow at him, and he repeats the question. She frowns.

"David and…Snow White," the name sounds bitter coming from her lips. She sounds so much like the Evil Queen when she says it. She has not seen her former stepdaughter since their confrontation in her driveway nearly two weeks ago. Nor does she want to. David and Emma, even Ruby, have made sure their paths do not cross. "Will make their way back to each other. She will find a way to forgive him. If she hasn't already."

She is sure that Archie knows more about the situation than he's letting on. David has been seeing him for a lot longer than she has and she has no doubts that he's told him. But her curse gave him a PhD and he's going to try and pick her brain for her version of events.

"And that makes you upset?"

"No," she answers too quickly.

"This is a safe space, Regina. Nothing you tell me will leave this room."

While that may be true, she has never been good at opening herself up to anyone. And she doesn't know what it says about her relationship with David, but he is the only person in the past twenty-eight years that she has allowed access to her internal struggles.

"I don't know what it makes me," she answers truthfully. She is unsure of what her relationship with David is at this point apart from her being the mother of his unborn son. She changes the subject because it seems to her that the bug thinks she's jealous, "I think we've decided on a name."

Archie tells her that it is awesome news. So, she doesn't mention the little spat she and David had when she very firmly told him that they were not naming their son after a man that neither of them have met. His grandfather.

The conversation swiftly shifts to lineage and parentage for obvious reasons, but he poses a question about mothers. And she should have seen it coming, she is pregnant after all, and not too long ago, Henry was sitting in her seat. Her brain shoots of warning shots, but she finds that once she starts talking, she can't stop.

She feels lighter when she leaves.

It is the dead of night, and she was alerted to him on the stairs almost thirty minutes ago. He was trying to be quiet, careful not to wake her. She could tell by the way her bedroom door slowly creaked open when he peeked his head in to check on her. But she's been pulled from deeper sleeps plenty of times by Henry bounding into her room after a nightmare or sneaking downstairs for a late-night snack. She has mom ears.

She finds him in the nursery his forearms resting on the crib railing as he slouches over it. His back is to her, but she is struck by an image of him reaching down to lift their son up into his arms. And she cannot believe that he will be here in only five weeks. That she will finally be able to see her baby and hold the weight of him against her chest and breathe him in. All nine pounds of him.

"Hey," she says and places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze when he doesn't turn around. The nursery tends to calm him. She has found—even before her confrontation with Snow—that if he was just not having a good day, he'd ring her doorbell and march up the stairs to the nursery and stay there. Sometimes for hours. She is glad that she and Henry decided on comfort gray when picking out paint colors for the nursery. "Are you okay?"

"You should be in bed," he tells her.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she lies, not wanting him to know that he woke her. She is surprised that she even slept at all with the way her brain was alerting her to every little sound. She should've known it was too good to be true that she slept for almost nine hours last night.

He is too tense to have just had a bad day. She knows that whatever is bothering him has to do with Snow or Emma or their son. Assumes that there was an argument with Snow, likely about her, that Emma and their son were brought in as rebuttals. His eyes give him away, confirm her suspicions, when he turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. He tends to get this sullen look in his eyes when talking about his children. Preparing for their son must remind him of how short of a time he had with Emma after she was born. It is why she has decided—after much deliberation—that their son will be a Nolan and not a Mills.

"I'm sorry about Emma," she says.

"It was a long time ago," he says. "I have her back now."

"You still lost time."

David turns completely then and stands to his full height. And she is reminded again just how much taller he is than her and she has to look up at him when he speaks. She hopes their son takes after him in height.

"I still remember what it feels like to hold her for the first time. There really aren't words to describe it. And I cannot wait to experience it with him." She knows what he means. Still remembers the time she held Henry for the first time. How the whole world seemed to right itself.

"Me too," she giggles when he pokes her stomach with a finger.

He orders her back to bed then and tells her that he will carry her there if she doesn't get moving. They share a laugh and she offers him Henry's bed if he doesn't want to drive this late. He accepts and true to his word, he walks her to her room and watches her get in the bed. That is the last thing she remembers as she nestles in the comfort of her blankets and falls into a deep sleep. It doesn't last long, though. Because soon it is morning and David is standing beside her bed, phone to his ear, wide eyed.

"Archie's dead."

A/N: I have a very rough outline and vision of where things are headed, and I have pre-written one of the later chapters. But I am completely open to ideas and suggestions. And if there is anything specific that you want to see, just let me know.