A/N: I apologize for the hiatus. There was a death in my family, and I flew home to spend time with them. Thank you for your kind words on the last chapter, I'm happy that you are enjoying this story. Happy Saturday!

6.

Before

Regina now knows her baby's sleep and wake windows. In the mornings, she wakes to soft little punches or kicks or squirming five, ten, sometimes twenty minutes before her 7:30 alarm. Never after. She welcomes them gladly, though, after suffering minor spotting last week that scared her nearly to death. So, even if the party currently happening in her uterus—anytime she eats he gets a boost of energy—is distracting her from work, so be it. She allows herself to be lost in the moment, rests her head against her desk chair and closes her eyes. Her right hand rubs soothing circles on her stomach while she flexes the fingers of her left. It has been too long since she has used magic. The first thing that she will do after she gives birth is conjure a fireball, if only because she can.

She has half the mind to hurl one at David when he walks into her office without knocking. Her eyes don't even have to be open to know that there is someone there. That it's him. One, no one can sneak up on the Evil Queen. And two, the little party animal settles down in the womb. He is very reactive to his father, will calm almost—but not quite—instantly when David is nearby. Of course, she doesn't tell this to the shepherd. He doesn't need another reason to visit every day.

"Forget how to knock, shepherd?"

He makes a dramatic show of walking back out of the office, closing the door, and knocking—three in rapid succession—before re-entering. She narrows her eyes at him, and he grins that stupid grin that only he can pull off. Her pregnancy hormones are raging, has her sex deprived mind running rampant. This is a damn good-looking man. It also doesn't help that she had a very not safe for work dream about him the night before. She darts her tongue over her lower lip, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

"What can I help you with?"

"Good morning to you, too, Your Majesty," David says. He moves closer to her desk, peers at a building permit that she was in the middle of signing before his son decided to distract her. He is squinting again, and she thinks that he very well may need glasses. David taps his knuckles on the desk. Tap, tap, tap. It is an annoying habit that he picked up.

They have more good days than bad days. And when they are good, they are good. But when they are bad, they are Evil Queen and Prince Charming feuding bad. More times than not the bad days involve knock down drag out arguments mostly to do with their arrangement with Henry. They have become a bickering divorced couple who can't agree on what's best for their child.

He takes as much as she gives and has not backed down from one of her challenges yet. And when they are both done, seething, and panting, as much distance placed between them as possible—they don't need a repeat of last time—he will put his hands on his hips and ask are you done? Or he will leave and come back an hour or a day later with an even dumber question like, "Are you busy tonight?"

"It depends," she shrugs.

"On what?"

"Why you're asking?"

"I would like to have dinner with you."

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, but it is short lived. Her lips part but a snarky comment dies on her tongue. Her hand stills on her stomach. He is serious. "Why?"

"As a thank you," he says. "For fixing my hand."

"That was three weeks ago, shepherd," she says. And she has seen him every day since for nearly a month.

"I've been thinking," he says. "We hardly know anything about each other. We are about to have a baby. And you…well, you intrigue me."

Fine, she'll entertain him. "What did you have in mind?"

"Lasagna," He holds up his hands in mock surrender when she snorts out a laugh. "I know, I know. It probably won't be as good as yours. But it's the only thing I haven't royally screwed up."

"Okay, shepherd," she says. "You can make me dinner."

He tells her that he will see her at seven and leaves with a satisfied smile. She doesn't think about it for the rest of the workday. Is content with ordering a pizza for dinner and climbing into bed early when Henry walks into the kitchen, phone to ear, and asks what time Ruby should come over to babysit. Since David is preparing dinner at the loft, Ruby will babysit Henry at the mansion. And as much as she loathes having other people in her home, she'd rather he not stay at Granny's where he will have an all access pass to all the sweets he can eat.

It takes her longer to get ready than she allotted time for. More specifically, it takes her longer to find something that fits. She wore slacks today. And there is a red imprint on the flesh of her stomach of the waistband, including the button, that tells her that today is probably the last time she will wear them for a while. A dress it is then. She tries on each one, that she knows she can fit, in her closet. And is surprised that she can still fit into the one she wore the night she cooked David lasagna and tried to seduce him. She decides against it in the end. Doesn't need to give him any déjà vu.

The dress she chooses is red with a V-neck with three-quarter sleeves. She purchased it a month ago specifically to wear at the next town hall meeting. Heels haven't failed her yet. If anything, she kicks them off while she sits at her desk when they get too annoying. Tonight, she'll wear a shorter pair just to be on the safe side.

Henry scrunches up his nose when she kisses his forehead, and she wipes away the red she leaves behind with her thumb. She tells Ruby not to let him stay up past ten, though she's sure she'll be home well before then. You got it, Regina, Ruby says and then her face goes pale. I mean, madame mayor. No, Your Majesty.

She holds down a laugh and the smile she gives the girl is genuine. "Regina, is fine."

David wears a brand-new apron when he opens the door. She only knows its new because she can see that there is a tag still on it when he turns around. It is surprising that Snow White, as Mary Margret, didn't own one. She seemed like the baking type. It's almost ready, he tells her when he takes her coat. And to his credit, it smells delicious. She wonders what recipe he is replicating tonight.

"What made you decide to cook, shepherd?" She asks as she takes a seat at the island. His back is to her. He is wearing an outfit similar to the one he wore when he appeared at her door, wielding a sword, to take Henry. It is an image of him that will be burned into her memory forever, among others. He bends to take the dinner rolls out of the oven, sits them beside the lasagna, that is already out, to cool.

"A very wise woman once told me that Henry and I couldn't live off of Granny's takeout every night," he calls out over his shoulder.

She rolls her eyes. There is an open beer bottle sitting a few inches away and she takes note of the brand he likes. David turns and leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest. He chews on his lower lip in thought and all she can think about is how it is the same face he made as she rode him. One hand braced on the floor beside his head, the other gripping his bicep.

She wonders if he dreams of their tryst, too. And shakes her head at the thought. She swallows and tears her eyes away from his mouth and up to his piercing gaze. He is talking to her; she realizes with a blush. "What did you just say?"

"Your favorite color," he says. "What is it?"

"Red," he looks surprised when she says it, like he expected it to be something different. Black maybe. Or even blue. Those were the colors that slipped into her Evil Queen attire the most. When she asks him for his favorite color, he tells her brown, like your eyes and it is so far from what she is expecting that she blinks at him, her mouth an O.

She has found that conversation—something that she is not good at—with him comes easy. She can let go of the reigns and not grasp at straws to keep the conversation geared toward a topic of her interest. The shepherd does not like pickles, has a fear of snakes, and wanted to be a doctor when he grew up for most of his childhood. His relationship with his parents is the opposite of hers. He did not have a good relationship with his father, and his mother, Ruth, seems to be everything that Cora was not. She fields his questions and finds that she answers them truthfully and without thinking sometimes.

There is one that he doesn't ask though, stops himself before he digs himself into a hole. Did you and Daniel…? He is not drunk, but he downs the rest of his bottle, a flush creeping up his neck. They settle into a comfortable silence after that as they eat their meal. It is as delicious as it smells, not as good as hers, but she wouldn't mind having it again. And the baby enjoys it as well, so she gets seconds.

"How did you get the scar on your back?" she asks him. He raises an eyebrow at her. She hasn't seen it, but she has felt it and he realizes—his eyebrows shoot upward—just how she remembers his scar and blushes.

"I, uh, fell," he says. "Out of a tree."

"Is that what little shepherds do? Climb trees?"

"I was thirteen."

She smiles at him as she brings her glass of water up to her lips and takes a sip. Then she drops her eyes to her stomach, tells their son don't get any ideas. Her eyes find David again, and she watches him as he chews on his last bite of lasagna, circling the rim of her glass. It has become a habit of hers, watching him. She wants to know what to expect from her baby in the next five, ten, twenty years if he doesn't take after her.

"You can ask me," she says. "The question about Daniel."

"Did the two of you ever…?" he still can't bring himself to say it.

"Fuck?"

He nearly jumps out of his skin, and she takes slight pleasure at the thought that she can rile him up with just one simple word. She debated not answering but she opened the floor to this line of questioning. When she asked about his own love life. And had been thoroughly surprised to learn that Snow White was not the first woman he slept with. "No."

David nods and says, "You carry too much." He understands and she knows that he won't ask her about the king. Or her many exploits after him or the lack of before him. The mood is not ruined. So, she tells him that she enjoyed the meal. That he will have to cook for her again sometime. He tells her that he will, just name the time and place. She grabs his wrist when he stands to clear the table, reaches for her plate.

"You cooked, shepherd," she says. "I will clean."

After

She is running on four hours of sleep and her back hurts like hell. Still, she stands behind the podium, head bowed as she reviews her notes in a semi-crowded room in townhall. She sucks in a breath when she receives a swift kick to the ribs. Another follows, and another. Three in rapid succession. Kick, kick, kick. And it reminds her so much of David's annoying little antic that he only does to rile her up. Kick, kick, kick. She doesn't realize how much she has missed him until he walks into the town hall meeting thirty-two minutes late.

It's been since Tuesday that she's seen him. Had been very disappointed when he didn't make her thirty-eight-week appointment this morning. But she knows that he and Snow are trying to work things out and that he has been otherwise preoccupied. She is not the only one who misses him, she realizes now. This little boy has not been born yet and he is already spoiled by his father. He is alerting her to David's presence. A surprised smile creeps onto her face as she seeks out David's among the attendees.

Daddy's here, daddy's here, daddy's here.

This is her last town hall meeting before she goes on maternity leave—effective immediately at 7PM—and she still has no idea who will serve as acting mayor while she is away. David had told her no, please, no when she joked that it should be him. She'd laughed at him, and they went on to discuss other options. One of her only other contenders is Emma. But Emma is the sheriff and although she does have David there to help her, he plans to take a few weeks off himself when their son is born. And she is not leaving the sheriff's department in the hands of Grumpy, or Leroy, as he wishes to be called.

That leaves only one person she knows who has some experience in leadership. Can rally a team when she needs to. And though they will likely never hold a sane conversation again, Snow White is that person. And of course, the little bandit, soon to be stepmother—oh, how the tables have turned—to her son, is not present tonight. She opens the floor to questions.

After the meeting, David waits patiently for her to finish speaking with an elderly couple, Ted and Barbara, who have attended every townhall meeting for the past twenty-eight years. Today they expressed their concerns of a growing sink hole in their street. She tells them that she will have someone look into it first thing tomorrow. And Barbara leaves her with a not long now, huh, doll? Anyone's guess is as good as hers. As of eleven-thirty this morning, she is not dilated nor is she effaced. And while she desperately wants to see the life growing inside of her, hold him in her arms, she is in no rush to start pushing. He will come whenever he is ready.

"Hey," David says. "You look nice tonight."

"This old thing?" She jokes. She wears a loose fitting black skirt with an elasticated waistband—refuses to buy maternity clothes—and a silk black shirt. There is nothing nice about the ensemble she pulled out of her closet this morning. It is riddled with wrinkles by now. David smiles at her and gives her stomach a rub with a hey, little guy. "He's happy you're here."

"What about you?"

"Maybe a little," she holds her index finger and thumb about an inch apart and holds it in the space between them with a smirk. He's wearing a new shirt. A long sleeve, cherry red, button down. It looks good on him even if it does look like it came straight from her closet. And she wonders what's the occasion. Then she remembers his plans with Snow.

"I thought I saw Henry."

"You did."

She explains that Henry ran off to get her purse from her office. He has been waiting on her hand and foot for the last few weeks. Trying to get anything done with him and David ordering her to rest any chance they get is a chore. She doesn't mind, though; wants to spend as much time with Henry as possible before his little brother arrives. Things will be different for him. So, when he said he wanted a burger from Granny's to celebrate getting the highest grade on his math test, she agreed. Even if she did swear off that place for the remainder of her pregnancy. It accounts for eighty percent of her pregnancy weight gain, she is sure.

"Can you give Snow a message from me tonight?" She asks. "When you see her?"

"She cancelled." He says and when they see Henry walking back toward them, adds, "I'll tell you about it later. After Granny's."

She didn't tell him about Granny's because she knew of his dinner plans with Snow, but she doesn't let the thought linger. He follows behind in his truck because he hates driving her car. It's either too small or my knees are always in the dashboard or so he claims. And of course, as soon as they park on the street, the sky opens up. Nowhere in the forecast did it say rain was coming. She would've dressed accordingly had she known, and she would've made sure Henry had a raincoat. Henry takes off running for the cover but gone are her days of running. David uses his jacket to shield her, and they giggle like teenagers as they make their way for the door.

He leads her into an ambush.

Technically, it's a baby shower. One that she has been very vocal about not wanting. And it's not because she doesn't like them. Most people think that because she is the Evil Queen that things need to be grand celebrations. But she is also Regina, and she does not like being the center of attention. She is a simple—albeit a little fucked up—woman beneath it all. David feigns hurt when she punches his arm. She gives him her best Evil Queen glare and mouths we will talk about this as Henry grabs her hand and pulls her further into the building.

It is a small gathering that consists of familiar faces: Emma and Henry, Ruby and her grandmother, Archie, and even Belle—so, that's why they were missing from the townhall meeting. There are a few other people from town there that she has had passing conversations with. One of them is pregnant as well, Nina. They've sat in the waiting room together many times. She thanks each of them for coming to celebrate her baby boy individually.

"Let's get a picture of mom and dad," Widow Lucas says. The flash from the windup camera nearly blinds her and David is midbite of a blue frosted cupcake—they were too sweet for her liking, and he happily took the rest of hers. But he darts out a hand just in time to rest on her stomach for the photo.

There aren't any nonsensical games, but they do guess when the baby will arrive. Henry guesses that his brother will be born two days early, on the seventeenth. David thinks he will make his appearance right on time for the nineteenth of March. Emma says that he will be late one hundred percent and arrive on March twenty-fifth. Granny laughs at them all as she takes a sip of punch. That baby hasn't even dropped yet, honey. I don't think you're going to be meeting him anytime soon.

She is curious as to why he is still renting a room at Granny's as she lies in the bed, head burrowed in a pillow that smells like him. David ordered her upstairs to rest while he helped Widow Lucas and Ruby clean up after the baby shower. Henry is staying with Emma tonight. She is so tired and wants to crawl under the sheets and sleep until noon tomorrow. But something is bugging her. Snow had been so adamant that he moved into the loft with her as they try to salve their relationship. And she has already mapped out where in the loft that a crib would go, a bouncer, a playset for when David keeps their son overnight.

Regina turns as gracefully as she can in the bed to grab her cellphone from the bedside table. It is close to ten, later than she thought. She must've dozed off. The pain in her back has settled into a dull ache now. And she texts Whale to tell him. It had been so bad earlier that she had reached out to him and was advised that she was not in labor and to keep him updated. To let him know if the pain worsened overnight.

It doesn't make sense for him to drive her home now. The roads are wet and it's late and she doesn't know if she'll be awake in the next fifteen minutes. But she is not sleeping in this crumpled outfit that she pulled out of her closet in the early hours of this morning. David has a small collection of clothes with him at Granny's and most of them are in a laundry basket in the bathroom. She finds the terribly blue flannel shirt that he bled on all those weeks ago hanging in the corner of the closet.

The shirt would probably fall to her mid-thighs if she weren't nine months pregnant. Instead, it stops just shy of her underwear. She is not carrying as big as she feels put it is a noticeable bump. And she will miss it when it's gone. David walks into the room just as she steps out of the closet. There is a black travel bag slung over his shoulder, that was, until this very moment, hidden within the depths of her own closet.

He tells her that since she had been asleep when he came upstairs, he drove to her place to get her more comfortable clothes. Knows that she would wake up at least once during the night to go to the bathroom. "I didn't know what you'd want to wear, so I grabbed a few different things."

"Thank you, David," she says, now noticing the small pile of gifts in the corner near the door.

David nods and drops the bag at the foot of the bed where he sits. He scratches at his shoulder before slouching over, elbows on his knees. He looks as tired as she feels. And she gets the sudden urge to comfort him, hold him close. She sits beside him on the bed, and they are shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He allows her to pry his hand from under his chin and take it in hers.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been around much the past few days," he says. "And that I missed your appointment this morning."

"It's okay," she says. "I know you've been busy with Snow and—"

"Snow and I have decided that it is best to end our marriage…" He sounds defeated. She knows that he was trying his best to win his wife over again. And now she knows why he has been so distant the past few days; has mourned lost love herself. Oh, David, she says as she brings his hand to her chest, holds it there. "I will always love her. But I love him, too. And she wanted me to choose."

She doesn't press him any further. And they sit like that, his hand held against her chest, on the foot of the bed in a rented room at Granny's. Until her eyes scream to be shut. David notices her struggle to stay awake when her head drops to his shoulder. He jokes that it's time for bed, Mama Bear. She tries to laugh but it comes out as a hum. And when she looks up at him, he is so very close. "I can't believe he'll be here soon," she says.

It takes her a few moments to gather her bearings the next morning. She is not in her bed at home. There is a warmth against her back, a hand splayed across her stomach. David, she remembers. She now knows what it feels like to wake up beside him now, in his embrace. Her closest friend. And their baby stirs, gives her three kicks to the ribs. She smiles down at her stomach.

Yes, my boy, she thinks. Daddy's here.

to be continued.