8: Mother

Regina's expression hardened.

"My mother is dead." She told him darkly. "What kind of game are you playing, Rumple?" Her mother was an open wound, and Gold was trying to enter it. She didn't know why.

"I'm not playing a game. I'm stating a fact." He paused, so she frowned. "I got this book from Cora." He pressed his finger into the text. "I don't know where she got it. I don't know how she did it. But she mastered it. She knew every spell in this book back to front."

"Well, how did you get it? She wouldn't just give something like that to you." Her voice had a bitter twinge of jealousy to it at the thought of Rumple being closer to Cora than she was. Even though she hated her mother, part of her still wanted her love no matter how deeply she buried it. She'd spent years being being alone, self reliant, unaffected, and irrationally and unfathomably angry. Her mother made her who she was, and the fact that she was still so tethered, so dutifully devoted and desperate, scared her.

"Your mother was a complicated woman. It came into my possession through complicated circumstances." He supplied vaguely, and she glared at him.

"Well, I suppose you want to contact her." She grit her teeth and sighed, glaring at the ceiling "...from beyond the grave." She drawled in annoyance, and the little imp giggled, actually giggled.

"That'd be nice, yes." He nodded. "We'll need the candle."

"And her murderer! Are you sure you want to involve Mary Margaret in this?"

"Not if you have a better idea, no." He told her. She sighed, her hands firmly on her hips, her blazer riding up and flaring out.

Rumple remembered when he found out about Cora's dirty little secret. He kept tabs on her in the Enchanted Forest. From her first born to little Regina, he was always watching. And he couldn't help but notice the spell book she kept practicing in. Based on the way the magic bent and wavered in a land of new magic, he could be sure that this was old magic—ancient magic. His suspicions were confirmed when he snuck a peek at the book and found that it was written in old elvish. And he was confused. So he did some digging.

Even when he was just a boy living with spinsters, old magic had already been abolished for years. He didn't know how long, but it was recent enough for him to still hear whispers and rumors about why it was no longer in practice. A whole new form of magic had to be invented, they said. All because of one old magic spell.

Rumpelstiltskin was a curious man and even more so when it came to Cora. He didn't know how she got the book, and he didn't know what she was doing with it, but she was practicing it and perfecting it. So he dug deeper.

Old magic hadn't been abolished because non-magic folk were scared of its power. Surprisingly enough it wasn't even the non-magic folk that abolished old elvish. He discovered that a few of the ancient sorcerers banded together to stop one thing: paradoxes. And the causes of those paradoxes were time portals—too many of them. With old magic, time travel was just as doable as any other spell. And too many people were abusing its power to change the past or visit the future.

However, the non magic folk didn't have the capacity to remember if someone had changed their past. Their heads were being scrambled without them ever knowing. The people with magic could remember, though. They knew what was happening. Time was being meddled with too frequently and in too harsh of a degree. It needed to be stopped.

The details of its abolishment were fuzzy and written reports were contradictory. The one thing everyone could agree on, however, was that after it was all over time portals were abolished, and new magic was created to stop it from ever happening again. And they had sure done one hell of a job. Time portals were nothing more that whispers in the trees, rumors, legends. No one could create one—not even Rumple (and he knew because he's tried). In fact, even though new and old magic weren't compatible, many sorcerers went so far as to destroy all evidence of old magic, including the spellbooks and memories, so that time portals weren't even a possibility anymore. A memory wipe so powerful that even past Dark Ones couldn't help him.

But that just had Rumple even more intrigued. Where had Cora gotten a spell book that was this rare and delicate, and what in the hell was she going to do with it? But before he could capture the book for himself she'd already mastered it. And when he finally did try to steal it she'd sealed it in the room with blood magic. She was keeping the book from him.

. . .

Before Regina could even think about saying yes to such a ludicrous idea, there was a gust of wind that knocked the air from her lungs and a surge of magic so powerful that she could feel it resonate throughout her entire body. The two of them turned in the general direction of the disturbance, thoroughly horrified. She could smell the thick, sweet musk of magic coming from the back of the shop. It was strange magic, though, something she wasn't used to. Something bordering on nostalgic.

Footsteps clicked on the wood floors. Regina held her breath, listening, waiting, hands up and ready. Fire burned in the palm of her hand. Her heart echoed in her chest, her fingers twitching.

Then, out through the back, of all people, her mother stepped through the door.

Regina stood frozen for a long moment, the fire fizzling from her palms, as Cora glanced around curiously. Standing there, in the flesh, blood and bones, was her mother. Her hands dropped as Cora hummed. She was in a dress, long and puffy, Enchanted Forest style. And, my God, she was so very young. Judging by her appearance alone, her other self in the Enchanted Forest must still be a little girl. Maybe five or six. Cora wouldn't recognize her.

"So this is Storybrooke." Cora furrowed her brow and walked up to the glass counter, elegant and swift. "How...interesting." Her gaze turned to Gold, and her eyes widened. "Rumple?" She questioned hesitantly. "You look so different." Then she smiled. "Did you do something with your hair?"

The diatribe pulled a weak and bitter smile from Rumple. When Cora turned her attention to Regina, she felt the need to hold her breath, a dizzying wave of panic tightening in her chest. She wouldn't be recognized. She couldn't be. There was no way her mother could recognize Regina's current self from her five year old self. Nevertheless, Cora seemed hesitant and thoughtful when her gaze fell upon Regina. She studied her. "And who are you?"

For once in her life, Regina had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. Her mouth even fell open as she searched for anything vaguely intelligent to say. All that was going through her mind over and over and over was that she was older than her mother.

As Regina stood there gaping, Cora turned to Rumple questioningly, impatiently. "She's my…assistant…Mara. There's no need to worry about her." Rumple said, finally stepping in for her. That snapped Regina out of her thoughts. Mara? Cora pursed her lips, annoyed.

"Fine. Now where's my book?" Cora sighed. "I'd like to get this over with if you don't mind."

"Not so fast." Gold stepped in before Regina could ask what the hell Cora was talking about. "The wand first. That's the only way you could have gotten here." Cora eyed him but reluctantly pulled the white wand from a pocket in her dress. She held it out to him, dangling it between her finger and thumb with delicate precision. He almost took it before she snatched it away.

"I was promised my spell book when this is over." She warned, her voice disturbingly dark. He looked surprised but his features quickly hardened. All Regina could do was watch on helplessly as he muttered some acerbic words under his breath. It was understandable that he didn't want to part with the book, of course. Finally, after much deliberation, he relented.

"You can have the book if you do what you came here to do. Nothing more, nothing less." He eyed her confident looks and regal posture. "Do we have a deal?" She looked him over in his suit and tie~examining him~before handing him the wand in response.

"Can't have me running back to the Enchanted Forest before the deed is done, hmm?" She drawled. This was a Cora that Regina barely remembered. She was still the same meddling, evil woman but this version of her seemed more sensual and obedient. And Regina wondered if the history between those two ran deeper than she'd thought.

She eyed the wand now dangling from Gold's hand. She'd heard of it before—in fact, she'd seen it in Rumple's possession back in the Enchanted Forest many years ago. How had Cora gotten it? It could supposedly replicate any spell ever cast. Cora must have replicated a time portal. But who had told her to come? Who had told her about Storybrooke?

"Where. Is. The book?" Cora repeated in a more demanding and harsh tone. Subconsciously, Regina recoiled. That tone was one Regina most associated with discipline and pain and dark magic. Gold motioned to the back of the shop, and Cora led the way even if she had no idea where she was going.

"Are you coming?" Gold asked, turning back to see her standing frozen in the middle of the shop. Regina blinked and stared at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, she nodded, and then her feet began to move.

. . .

Jennifer sat in Granny's that night tracing the top of her water glass with a lazy finger, her cheek resting heavily in the palm of her hand. She was thinking about how awkward dinner had been at Emma's apartment with Henry and Emma's new family, the one she'd left Jennifer for. Maybe it was selfish but that's how she felt. Emma had just invited her over to try and win her forgiveness without actually apologizing, anyway. It was bull shit. But in between her anger toward Emma, she was also thinking about Regina. Or, more specifically, about them getting ice cream with Henry.

They'd walked in silence while Henry rambled to them about school, Jennifer remembered. She noticed his stories were mostly directed toward her though. It seemed like, to Henry, Regina was a second thought, a lesser, an insignificant. More than that, he seemed weary of her. He distanced himself both physically and in the things he said, the way he said it, how he smiled at Jennifer while Regina's gaze turned to her shoes. She could understand a pre-teen boy not liking his mother, but the fact that he seemed to have lost faith in her was concerning to Jennifer. It was more than typical adolescent drama. It was something Regina had done. Or something Henry thought she'd done.

Jennifer did have to admit, Regina seemed like a colder sort of woman. She was cryptic. Not easy to read. But after their time at Granny's, after she'd gotten a chance to observe Regina interact (however briefly) with Henry, she was able to start piecing together their story.

She noticed it most when they sat down. Jennifer and Regina slid across from each other in a booth. Henry quickly got a scoop of chocolate and paid with Regina's money to Jennifer's displeasure (She was the one who promised Henry ice cream. She wanted to pay, but Regina was rather final about the matter). When he strode back to their table, Regina's eyes lit up ever so slightly. She raised her shoulders and inhaled slightly, a ghost of a smile flickering on her lips. When Henry slid in next to Jennifer, however, she deflated like a balloon.

After that everything happened so quickly. The disappointed and saddened mother Jennifer had glimpsed was gone in an instant, replaced only by a blank façade. A defense mechanism. Regina was very silent for a while after that. But sometimes Jennifer would catch a flash of longing or melancholy or a sense of helplessness in those deep, brown eyes.

So Jennifer talked to her. She tried to include her in Henry's conversations. Regina must have noticed her gentle prodding, there was no way she couldn't have. But she never called Jennifer out on it. All she wanted was to be close to her son. All Jennifer was doing was trying to help.

It wasn't until the end of their ice cream soiree that Jennifer felt she was making any progress, though. Jennifer quipped something at Henry about his love for chocolate (she was a vanilla person) when he turned straight to Regina, all teasing and giddy. "Come on, mom, tell Jenny. Isn't chocolate the best? Who likes vanilla anymore? That's so boring."

She looked dumbstruck for a moment. Her mouth opened; her eyes widened. Was he asking me? "I'm...more of a pistachio person."

"Oh yeah, duh!" Henry exclaimed. "I forgot. You always get pistachio." He turned to Jennifer. "Doesn't matter. Chocolate's still the best."

It was that one comment. Always. That one declaration of forever that had Regina smiling like a fool. Jennifer smiled along with her, nearly laughed like a kid at her expression. When Regina caught her gaze, Jennifer bit her lip~an infectious smile lighting her face and wrinkling her nose~and gave Regina a subtle thumbs up. And Jennifer would have sworn on the grave of Hippocrates right then and there that Regina Mills had blushed.