Chapter 5 – In with the New
Regina pours herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She watches the rich blend trickle into her mug as the steam rises, filling her kitchen with its delightful scent. She stops pouring once the coffee reaches the rim and picks up the cup with both hands, wrapping her fingers around it in a tight snug. Leaning back on the kitchen counter, Regina brings the cup up to her lips before inhaling deeply. Coffee is certainly a necessity after the eventful morning she had.
Not only had Regina slept well past the usual time she wakes up at—which in itself is already upsetting as Regina cherishes her mornings—but she hadn't even woken up on her own accord. She was woken up brusquely by the constant ringing of her doorbell, as though someone was in a panic. She rushed down the stairs, thinking up the worst possible scenarios. The first thing that crossed her mind was Henry, even though she knew he was sound asleep in his bedroom. She then thought about the possibility of someone who had gone missing, or of another villain who had entered Storybrooke in hopes of destroying everyone. It wouldn't have been the first time. Nor the last for that matter. But all the horrible hypothetical events that were running through her mind were gone in a flash when she opened the door to find that mystifying blonde on her front porch.
Regina takes a sip of her coffee, savouring the warm brew. Her eyes are fixed on the bowl of crisp red apples ahead of her on the kitchen island, but her mind continues to roam the mysterious woman who showed up at her door that morning. She can't help but feel like she's seen this woman before. The blonde locks, the goofy smile, the somewhat nervous stance and the less than sensible fashion sense were all too familiar. There's something that has Regina almost certain that she and this woman have crossed paths before.
She shakes her head, ridding herself of the useless presumptions. So what if Regina had met her before? Does she even care? What was the likelihood that Regina even liked this so-called sheriff? She was quite rude, to say the least, and Regina can't be bothered by those who haven't taken a basic lesson on manners. Perhaps she'd set her straight if she were to ever run into the blonde again, but for now, she would enjoy the remainings of her morning.
Regina moves out of the kitchen into and steps into the living room. She slides the curtains open with the wave of her finger, before gently letting herself fall into the couch.
Ever since Robin's passing, mornings have become quite difficult. Before she'd wake up there'd be a moment she wished would last forever. The time where her dream fades to black and her body drifts slowly into consciousness, where she's travelling between a world of dreams and reality. It's then and only then where for a split second, she'd forget. She'd think for a moment that Robin was still alive, lying beside her.
And then she'd open her eyes. A state of bliss shattered almost as fast as it came together. As of now, waking up was nothing more than a dreadful reminder that she was alone.
To Regina's relief, the sound of her cellphone blares from inside her study. She can't bear to think about Robin any longer. Her heart is still too fragile and the subject of his passing still too delicate to ponder over.
Coffee still in hand, Regina walks into her study. She's more than happy for the distraction and quite frankly, she could use a good talk right about now. She reaches for her phone from across the front of her desk, knocking over a wooden black picture frame with her forearm. The frame falls face down to the floor with a fatal thud. The ringer stops.
Regina winces, biting down on her lower lip. She glances down at her feet, hoping the damage isn't nearly as bad as the way it sounded. She exhales in relief. It's still intact. She takes a quick peek over at her phone, which revealed that the missed call had been from Zelena. She types in a quick message, stating that she'd call back soon.
Setting her mug onto her desk, Regina bends down to the floor and picks up the frame. She flips it over and finds herself staring at a picture she doesn't recognize.
In the middle of the photo, Henry stands with a beaming smile, looking directly at the camera. On his right, Regina is in the midst of laughter with her arm around his waist. Unlike Henry though, she isn't looking into the camera, nor is she looking at her son. Regina furrows her brows, following the direction of her gaze in the photo. She's looking at —
Her mouth drops. She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head before focusing on the photo once more. How in the hell? This was impossible. Surely it had been tampered with or produced from scratch somehow. After all, technology proves to be quite handy nowadays. Regina can't think of anything else to explain it. How else could she explain staring into the eyes of a giggling blonde? A blonde who caresses Henry in a mother-like fashion and who's gaze travels back to Regina. The exact blonde who showed up at her door this morning.
Regina thinks hard but doesn't have any recollection of this photo whatsoever. However, something about it seems authentic. Though she doesn't want to believe it, emotions like these couldn't be fabricated—even with the advancement of today's technology. She's never seen herself quite this happy before, not even in the photos of her and Robin.
Regina's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of her doorbell. She rolls her eyes. Peace is clearly never an option in Storybrooke.
She pulls the door open slightly, just enough to peep her head through the crack. She'd already let one person see her in pyjamas this morning, and she'd like to keep it that way.
"You again," Regina snaps, frowning at the blonde on her porch. She yanks the door open. "I need to have a word with you."
The woman holds her palms up to her chest. "Look, Regina, I know you might be upset with how things went earlier but I just wanted to—"
"What the hell is this?" Regina holds the picture up for the blonde to see.
The woman stops. She takes the frame, smiling down at the picture within. "This is my favourite picture of us. I can't believe you had it framed."
Regina's patience wears thin. "What I want to know is where the hell it came from."
"I know. That's why I'm here," she states. She holds her hand out. "I'd like to restart. My name is Emma Swan, it's very nice to meet you."
Regina reluctantly shakes Emma's hand.
She eyes the woman from top to bottom, studying her as though trying to place where she's seen her before. Regina's eyes roam from the waves of her luscious blonde locks to the curve of her hips, noticing the way her white tank raises just slightly, enough to expose a small portion of a firm stomach.
"Can I come in?" Emma asks.
Regina swallows hard, realizing she hadn't yet let go of Emma's hand. "Please."
She gestures Emma inside, closing the door behind her. Once in the middle of the foyer, Emma stops and looks at the photo once more.
Regina takes hesitant steps toward the blonde. "So this picture…it's—"
"Real, yes," Emma says, glancing back up at her. "Where did you find it?"
"My study," Regina replies. "I accidentally knocked it over."
Emma smiles, seeming pleased with the fact that Regina had the photo displayed.
"Why do I have it?" Regina asks, losing patience. "How could I be in a photo I've never seen, and with a person I've never met?"
Emma runs a hand through her curls. "Can we talk somewhere private? Your study maybe?"
The idea of her and a woman whom she's just met behind a closed door uneases her. Regina crosses her arms. "We can talk in the living room."
Emma nods and moves toward the living room before taking a seat on the couch. Regina follows her. She's hesitant to sit beside her so she opts on sitting on the love seat across from the blonde instead.
Silence veils over them as she waits for Emma to speak. The way the blonde's leg nervously bounces off the floor tells Regina that the topic they're about to touch upon might be one of extreme delicacy.
"I'm not sure how to put this but—" Emma looks Regina in the eye, placing the frame down onto the coffee table in front of her. "—we have met before…five years ago actually, right on your front porch."
That's ridiculous. Regina would surely remember meeting someone like Emma. She'd be lying if she described Emma as being 'awfully vanilla.' The woman has a sort of charm to her, one that Regina can't seem to brush off. She leans back into the armchair with a scoff. "You can't be serious."
Emma leans forward. "I know it sounds silly but—"
"Silly is hardly the word I would use, dear."
"Please, just hear me out," Emma pleads.
Regina's shoulders drop at the vulnerability seeping through Emma's eyes. She can see the way they flood with pain and torment, waves crashing violently in ocean blue waters. She exhales, nodding. "Alright, suppose we did meet when you say we did. If that were true, then why don't I know who you are?"
Emma inches toward the edge of the couch. "See this is where it gets a little complicated."
Regina laughs. "At this point, nothing you say can faze me."
"Right," Emma chuckles nervously. "Well, here's the thing…"
Emma pauses, her gaze leaving Regina's. She runs a hand through her hair and stands up. Regina examines the way she begins to pace the length of the living room, alongside the fireplace. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest when Emma stops pacing and walks towards her, taking a seat directly in front of her on the living room table.
Blue eyes meet brown and Regina stills. Her breathing slows and her heart rate returns to a normal pace. The blood in her veins flows through her with the current of a lazy river. Her body succumbs to the stare without any consent, relinquishing all walls that surround her heart. It's as though it recognizes Emma and welcomes her like an old friend. What normally takes years, Emma did in less than a day.
Frustration begins to boil in Regina's core at how easily she loses composure in front of the blonde. Enough is enough. She refuses to make a fool of herself any longer. Regina straightens her back and crosses her legs, forcing her walls back into play. "I believe you were saying something, Miss Swan?" Emma swallows hard and shakes her head. "Right, sorry. I'm just gonna get right down to it then."
"Please."
"It starts with Robin's death."
A fire erupts in Regina's chest the moment the words leave Emma's lips. She pushes herself off the armchair. "I'm in no mood to discuss this."
She attempts to walk away but is quickly stopped when Emma's hand slides over Regina's wrist. Regina looks down at the contact between them, watching as Emma's hand travels down to her own. "I know it's been hard on you."
Regina's eyes wallow up in tears. She looks away when a drop falls down her cheek, yet finds herself clenching harder onto Emma's hand. A stranger's hand. But somehow this stranger doesn't feel like one and Regina's mind is unable to make sense of anything anymore. She presses her trembling lips into a thin line, attempting to hide the sobs compiling at the back of her throat. "Miss Swan, you will drop this topic or so help me."
"You wanted to move on, you wanted to let go and start fresh," Emma pushes further.
"That's enough."
"And I supported you," Emma says, still caressing Regina's hand. "I know how much loss you've had to cope with and I wanted this one to be easier."
Regina's eyes burn with new tears. Her chest tightens as the sobs at the back of her throat threaten to escape. She takes a step back, sliding her hand out of Emma's. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You wanted to escape the pain, so you took a memory potion," Emma explains. "You wanted to give up your memories of Robin."
"If that were true, I'd have no recollection of him. I've brewed my fair share of memory potions dear and trust me when I say that if I did what you say I did, it would have worked," Regina argues.
Emma takes a step forward, decreasing the space between them. "Except this one didn't because you didn't alter it to Robin."
"Who else would I possibly alter it to?"
"You made it so you'd forget your true love."
Regina laughs through newly shed tears. "And in this little story of yours, I suppose that would be you?"
"It took me by surprise too," Emma admits.
"You're delusional, dear."
Regina brushes past Emma and makes her way out of the living room. She has enough to deal with as it is. The last thing she needs is some deranged woman giving her this absurd story about how Regina's love for Robin had never been true.
She struts toward the kitchen, having no intentions to humour the blonde any longer.
"Regina," Emma pleads from behind her.
She stops in the middle of the foyer, frozen at the way her name flowed through Emma's lips. There was a tenderness to it, as though it wasn't just a name. It was a feeling. And it tugs at Regina's heart in a way that she hasn't been familiar with since the age of 18.
"Try to believe me."
Part of her wants to, but the other part fears what the potential truth might mean for her. To think that her love for Robin had been a lie is difficult enough to take in, but to believe that her heart had all along been in the hands of Emma Swan? It's all too much. Regina remains put, her back still facing the blonde. "I think I—"
"Mom!" Henry shouts in excitement from the top of the stairs.
Regina furrows her brows as he bolts down the foyer, not running toward her but into the arms of—
"You're here! You're okay!" he says, wrapping himself around Emma.
Emma smiles and returns the embrace. "I'm okay, kid."
Henry turns to Regina. "Mom, why didn't you wake me? Never mind that, I gotta go get ready!"
Regina watches him sprint back up the stairs and into his room. She can't find a single word that could help express the state she's in. She finds herself blinking rapidly as she looks back at Emma. "You're Henry's birth mother?"
Emma stuffs one hand into the front pocket of her jeans and brings the other to her forehead. "God that is not how I wanted you to find out."
Ever since Emma stepped foot into Regina's home the ground had been slipping out from under her with every passing second. She searches for the closest thing to lean on, deciding to grab onto the staircase railing. "I need a drink."
Regina pushes herself off the railing and regains her balance. She straightens out her silk pyjamas and exhales sharply, attempting to regain a sense of dignity. "How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?"
Emma smirks. "Got anything stronger?"
Regina stills. Something about this moment feels strangely familiar but she can't quite put her finger on it. All she knows is that fighting Emma would serve no use. Based on this newly learned, highly significant detail, she'd be sticking around whether Regina likes it or not.
