A/N: We now conclude our little tale of Stitch/Regina crackery and SQ sweetness. It was a weird but fun journey, and I hope you enjoyed it as I did. Thanks for all of the kind words along the way.
Warnings: Some mild language, comic mischief, lots of flirting.
She quickly realizes that Emma has good strong powerful hands, and the sheriff uses them well enough to make Regina have to really focus on not moaning out her appreciation as Emma continues to work on the former queen's feet.
Apparently, Stitch also has very useful hands. Or paws in his case.
Which she realizes when it occurs to her that her arches are getting a rub down at the same time that her calves are. When Regina looks down, she sees a very focused Stitch using a balled up furry fist to try to press out some of the strain and tightness in her muscles. Her eyebrow lifts and she looks over at Emma as if to ask if she understands what's going on.
"Well, does it feel good at least?" the sheriff queries with a smirk.
"Indeed. He is quite talented at this," Regina admits. "Perhaps we should offer him a job. The old man who runs the massage parlor currently is well, rather creepy."
"Never been there. Who is he? I mean who was he back in your world? Paul Bunyan?"
"Of course not. I didn't bring Paul over. As for who he is, well I have no idea," Regina rumbles back with a disinterested shrug of her shoulders. She clears her throat a moment later and grimaces at the pain that's swollen her tonsils up. It's much better than it was yesterday or the day before, but well, she's so beyond done with this whole being sick thing.
"Really? You don't know everyone in this town personally."
"I do not. Do you?" Regina fires back.
"I didn't curse everyone here. I'm just the Savior."
"You'd think the Savior would take it upon herself to know everyone."
"He's the Muffin Man," Henry inserts as he reaches for his mug of hot chocolate. He gives his mothers the kind of look meant to show both his exasperation at their never-ending bickering and also his amusement at it.
"Are you serious?" Emma asks, her lip quirked up in disgust. "A baker is giving people full-body massages? That's actually…you're right, Regina, that is kind of creepy."
"The curse did some strange things – oh, yes, right there, Stitch – as it turns out."
"I thought you had complete control over it. As in, you chose who to bring over. So no Paul Bunyan, but yes on the Muffin Man? What kind of sense does that make?"
"The Muffin Man must have been one of your parents' sycophantic supporters. I didn't really care who they were beyond that. As for Paul, well he pretty much hated everyone so there was no reason to make his life any worse."
"Your logic is truly disturbing, I hope you know this." Off Regina's disinterested shrug, Emma chuckles and then pulls her hands away from Regina's foot. "Okay, Stitch, I think we've both more than done our duty by our Queen."
"Very well," Regina sighs. "You're both relieved."
"Why thank you, Your Majesty," the sheriff grins. She then does her best to ignore the way that Henry is rolling his eyes at them. Reluctantly pulling the blanket off of her (and everyone else), Emma stands up and says, "Okay, I'm going to throw another movie on. Stitch, you want to pick it out?"
"Yeah," he says, and then starts to move. He stops abruptly and tilts his head back towards Regina like he's still not sure that he should leave her.
"Pick something good for us," she tells him with a broad slightly dopey grin, scratching just under his chin with the pointed tip of her fingernail. "Something that has a lot of naughty in it."
"Well look at that," Emma notes with the biggest shit-eating grin ever. "I think you might be actually enjoying yourself this evening. Who would have ever thought that possible?"
"I'm with my son," Regina reminds her dryly. "So, yes, course I'm enjoying myself."
"And Emma and Stitch, too," Henry adds in, because he really does find this whole silly dance of theirs rather amusing.
And annoying.
"Yes, well, they both have good hands."
Emma wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh, shut up. Not that one, Stitch, Emma killed her and it makes me sad."
Emma tilts her head to look at the DVD in Stitch's paw – SLEEPING BEAUTY.
"When did you get all of these DVDS?" Emma asks, trying to pretend that she doesn't notice the icy glare that Stitch is throwing at her; apparently even former members of Team Evil have issues with killing one of their own.
"Over the years," Regina replies. "I was curious how this world adapted the stories from mine. They're all terribly wrong and simple, of course." She looks over at Stitch and frowns. "Except for his, oddly enough. He's…right."
"Huh. Weird. Maybe this is all just a dream and that's why."
"A nightmare, perhaps."
"So you keep saying. Despicable Me?" She asks as Stitch holds up a DVD.
"I bought it for Henry last year," Regina says softly, suddenly looking very serious and somber. "I don't think we ever got the chance to sit down and watch it." Her eyes flicker to Henry for a moment. "It's...it's relevant."
"I've seen it," Henry states. He smiles at her. "I like it. Go ahead, Stitch."
"You heard him," Emma says. "Put it in. Wait, do you know how to work a DVD player?"
Stitch turns towards her, and then jerks his thumb at her and says, "Pretty."
Regina snorts. "Yes, she is."
"That was an insult, wasn't it?"
Regina chuckles. "You know, Sheriff, I think I'm starting to feel better."
"Yeah; you've gone from being kind of a funny jerk to just being a jerk."
"Oh, stop pouting," Regina lightly scolds. "It's unbecoming of a crown princess."
"It is," Henry agrees.
"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I'm a sheriff and not an actual princess, huh?"
"Whatever you say, dear."
Henry groans. "Would you two chill on the flirting, please? The movie is on."
Regina opens her mouth to protest – to deny that that's what they're doing because it's so absolutely not what they're doing - but then the movie is starting, and Stitch is scrambling back onto the couch and crawling over the top of a sputtering Emma and a bemused Henry. "Shush," Stitch rumbles, and then he nuzzles into Regina's chest.
"I keep taking you to bed," Emma jokes as she gently slips an arm around the sleepy former queen's waist. Throughout the evening, though Regina's energy levels have been rapidly depleting, her awareness and sense of normal self have seemed to have increased which bodes well, the sheriff believes, for her recovery. Maybe – all teasing aside - Regina is finally on the downhill slope of this nasty little flu thing of her. Emma's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed by this realization.
It has been rather interesting to get to see the more human vulnerable side of her.
And perhaps it's even been nice to be allowed to take care of her just a bit.
"The children are nearby," Regina chastises, her eyebrow lifting upwards.
"As in Henry?"
"And Stitch."
"Stitch is your child now?"
"I didn't say that he was mine," Regina retorts. "Obviously, he doesn't belong to me." She glances over at the couch where Henry and Stitch are crashed out. Only Stitch isn't actually sleeping; he's sprawled haphazardly across Henry's body, his head on their son's chest, and his big eyes focused on the two women moving towards the stairs. He looks like he's half-asleep, but he's still clearly alert enough to jump up and run towards Regina and Emma if that's what is needed of him.
"Yeah, but I really think you're going to miss Stitch when he's gone," Emma observes quietly, taking in the almost soft expression on Regina's face. "I think even if he is a pain in the ass, you kind of like him."
"You think far too much of my ability to get attached to nuisances, dear."
"Probably," Emma admits. "Now step up unless you want to face-plant."
Regina makes a loud and decidedly undignified grunting noise (especially for her) but shoves her foot forward and up onto the step and then, a moment later, onto the next one above it. Drained doesn't even begin to cover how she feels right now, but at least her head isn't spinning around. She can even somewhat think like a normal sane person again.
Kind of.
Because there's a part of her that believes that if she was fully in her right mind, she wouldn't be allowing Emma so close.
"You think you can try to sleep without any more medication?" Emma asks.
"I suppose, but why should I?"
"Well, because whatever you're taking is making you act a little crazy." She wrinkles her brow. "What are you taking for this, anyway? I'm pretty sure that it's not just NyQuil."
The former queen waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's something Doc gave me. Hmm. I wonder if Snow realizes that her dwarves have a secondary business in cultivating illegal pharmaceuticals," Regina muses.
"Okay and so I'm going to leave that alone," Emma chuckles.
"Don't want to have to arrest one of your mother's favorite tiny men?"
Emma winces. "Not particularly. Either way, can you maybe lay off of it for the rest of tonight? So that you don't act crazy."
"I'm not acting crazy."
"For you? Maybe not. For normal people, yeah, definitely kind of crazy," Emma chuckles. "Which don't get me wrong, has been kind of hilarious, but well, I'd prefer not to worry about you falling out a window."
"Why would I do something like that?"
"Apparently Doc's drugs are that good."
"Yes, well, in any case, I'm not crazy now. Though, you are."
"You do realize that you're arguing with me right now just like you were arguing with Stitch earlier," Emma smirks.
"I am not."
Emma points ahead of them. "Step."
"I'm not an idiot."
"That's pretty much the last thing that I would ever call you, Regina," Emma replies with a soft smile. "But you are still pretty damned sick, and even though you're kind of an asshole when you are, you still need to be –"
"Taken care of?" Regina finishes, eyebrow up in what Emma is certain is meant to be a haughty manner. "Because you couldn't be more wrong if you tried, my dear Sheriff. I've been taking care of myself for a very long time, and if you weren't here right now, I would still be able to get myself up these stairs without any help. Have no doubt of that."
"I don't," Emma nods before she pulls her arm away from where it's been draped around Regina's waist. "So do it."
"What?"
"The last thing that I would I ever want to do, Your Majesty, is stand in the way of your independence. So please, by all means, walk yourself up. I'll just stand here and be...supportive."
"Emma."
"Regina."
"Stitch."
Regina jumps – quite literally jumps – about two feet in the air, her hand slapping against her chest to cover up her hammering heart. And then she reminds herself that she's stolen hundreds of hearts, and she wonders why it is that this little blue devil is so damned good at surprising her in all ways.
"What are you doing up here?" she husks after a moment.
"Stitch sleepy," he yawns without covering his mouth up. "Bedtime."
Emma snorts. "I think he's adopted your bed as his own."
Stitch simply nods his head in agreement, and then he reaches out and takes one of Regina's hands. "Regina needs to sleep, too. Come on."
Doing her best to hide a grin sure to get her killed, Emma says, "He's right."
"Yes, I suppose he is. All right, Miss Swan, you may assist me to my room."
"Really? You're so good to me. First, a forty-five minute foot rub -
"I have tough arches that require a lot of attention," Regina defends.
"Maybe you should wear your heels less."
"I have great legs," Regina snaps back, and then immediately blushes.
So Emma decides to go in for the kill. "Yes, you do," she agrees.
Regina coughs and then mutters, "I clearly need sleep. A lot of it."
"You absolutely do. Stitch, hold her hand. We wouldn't want our Queen to stumble and end up on the floor ass up." She snickers at just the mental image of this and then grins at the sharp look that Regina throws at her. Well, it's meant to be sharp but Regina's energy levels are hitting critically low now and it's more sleepily annoyed than angry.
"Holding," Stitch nods, tightening his grip.
Regina immediately softens. "It's nice to know that one pain in the ass in my life actually knows how to listen every now and again. Good boy, Stitch."
He grins at her with all teeth.
"That pain in the ass is going home tomorrow," Emma reminds her. "And then you're back to just having me and the other awesome people of this town to amuse and torment you."
"Including your idiots parents."
"Yeah, my mother is still upset with you about the goats crack," Emma sighs as they continue up the stairs. Her arm is slung back around Regina again, and they're moving slower to compensate for Regina's lagging energy.
"You have to admit it was kind of funny." There's a slight drunken sounding slur to her voice, indicative of her exhaustion.
"You have a very warped sense of funny," Emma notes as the three of them finally clear the steps and enter the Master Suite together. "Maybe that's why you and He Who Is Currently Sniffing Your Perfume–"
"Stitch, stop doing that," Regina instructs. "Those are very expensive, and I doubt that they taste very good."
"Apples," he says.
"Yes, but that's just a smell. My perfume doesn't actually taste like apples."
Reluctantly, he backs away from her perfume, but not before tossing her a disappointed look.
"Get along so well," Emma concludes.
"Yes, well, we are both deeply misunderstood."
"Sure, you are. Uh, did you want to change clothes? You've been in those all day. Or maybe a shower before bed?"
Regina casts a look over at the bathroom. Yes, she would love to take a long shower, but her legs are wobbly and the more tired she gets, the less strong she feels which indicates to her that she could have a rather rough go of it.
Then again, when doesn't she?
"I can help," Emma says softly, the teasing leaving her voice. Her eyes flicker up towards Regina's, and it's a deeply charged moment where they both feel like more is happening than either of them actually realizes.
But then: "So can Stitch." And there's that massive toothy grin again.
It's almost creepy in enthusiasm, but he's so happy and so Emma laughs, and then Regina allows herself to do so as well.
"No," Regina says after the moment of mirth passes (she feels a bit light headed but she's not about to tell anyone). "I'll just change, and shower in the morning. It's late, and Stitch here has a very long day ahead of him."
"Going home," he says, hopping up and down on his furry feet.
"That's right," Regina replies, her voice suddenly so very gentle and understanding. It's almost amazing for Emma to watch this; she couldn't tear her eyes away if she wanted to. And she doesn't want to. She watches with a small smile on her face as Regina bends down so that she's kneeling in front of Stitch.
"Lilo needs me," he tells her, looking for just a moment like he might start crying. "I miss Lilo. I miss my family."
"I know you do, and I'm certain that they miss you, too," Regina comments, reaching out to lift up his chin, her perfectly manicured fingers resting lightly below his fuzzy muzzle. "And tomorrow, you will all be back together again. But in order to get to tomorrow, Stitch, we need to go to sleep. You think we can do that?" She smiles brightly at him, her eyes glistening.
He nods his head. "We can do that."
"Good. Then go brush your teeth and let's get ready for bed. Oh, and Stitch? Use the toothbrush that you used yesterday and not my new one, please?" she asks of him, gesturing towards the en-suite bathroom.
"Yeah," he agrees, and then heads towards the room that he'd ripped the door off of just a few hours ago.
Looks good as new, Emma muses.
"Miss Swan?" Regina says, pulling her attention back. "Where are you?"
"I'm here. Sorry. I was just…thinking."
"Dare I ask what about?"
"Doors and Stitch and family and you."
"Oh? Care to tell me how all those things go together?"
"You'd be surprised – I think – just how well all of those things go together in my head." Then, because she just needs to say what she's never said before, she blurts out, "You're really pretty good with kids, aren't you?"
"Experience gives you practice."
"Yeah? So maybe one day I'll figure all of this out and be as good of a mom as you are?" she's smiling, but there's some honesty beneath her words. Maybe even some fear and worry that she never will be good enough for their son.
"You're already a good mother, Emma. Henry loves you dearly."
"Is that enough."
"I think so."
"Wow; times really do change don't they," the sheriff replies, shifting her feet like she's almost uncomfortable with the serious nature of their conversation. "You never would have said that to me before."
"Times have changed, but maybe we've changed, too. At least, I hope that I have."
"You know, I think I really do like you when you're sick."
Regina chuckles. "Thinking about trying to take advantage of me, are you?" She steps close to Emma, close enough that Emma can, in fact, smell the slight residue of apple scented perfume. Enough so that she has the insane thought about whether or not Regina is wrong and she actually does taste like apples, too. "Are you, Sheriff? Is that what this is about?"
Emma freezes, her eyes wide as she tries to work her tongue around an acceptable answer that doesn't sound like a rejection, but also doesn't apply pressure on a woman who clearly isn't quite herself at the moment.
"All done," Stitch calls out as he re-enters the room, flashing his teeth.
"Saved by the alien," Emma mutters.
"Indeed. Goodnight, Miss Swan."
"Emma," she corrects softly. "I gave you a foot rub."
"I expect that now you want a kiss as payment?" Regina queries, her eyebrow lifted and her hands settled lightly on her hips in a manner that makes Emma think about the power and dominance and unmistakable seduction of a Queen.
"Uh –"
"Very well. Stitch?"
Emma doesn't have time to think or react because suddenly Stitch is doing a vertical leap up and he's licking her face like a dog would, and there's so much saliva that she's pretty sure she can taste it, but all she hears is Regina laughing her fool head off and Stitch is beaming up at her like he did good.
So the sheriff groans.
"I'll see both of you lunatics in the morning," Emma says. And then, she turns and just about flees the room because they're both looking at her like they see right through her and maybe even into her, and that's just crazy.
All of this is crazy.
The funny thing is, the least crazy part of all of this is Stitch.
She kisses Henry on the top of the head, covers him up with a blanket, and then leaves the house, using the key that her son had given her long ago to lock the door behind her. And once she's outside and in the cold, she sighs.
Emma thinks that maybe what she's feeling right now is relief.
Relief because she's away from the temptation to fall into something that she knows would be messy and loaded down with emotional landmines.
But maybe it also feels a bit like disappointment because she's denying herself a chance at something that could be fantastic and worthwhile and –
Oh, hell.
Yeah, Emma realizes as she climbs into her icy cold bug, she has a problem.
And as usual, its name is Regina Mills.
Regina feels slightly better come morning; her head is achy, but it's swimming less and her nose has finally stopped running. Her stomach is still a bit unsettled and she remains dead tired, but this is still progress.
"Mom," Henry says as he steps into her bedroom. "Emma just called."
"They're ready to open the portal, I presume?" she asks as she turns to face him. She's still in her robe, and her hair is everywhere, but he's her son and he's seen her look like this a hundred times already so she thinks little of it.
"In about an hour. You going to be okay with this?"
"Sending Stitch back?"
"Yeah. You guys have kind of bonded."
"It's time for him to go back to his own home and family," she says softly. Then she frowns as she notices the absence of her usual furry blue shadow, "Speaking of Stitch, where is he? Tell me you didn't leave him in the kitchen alone."
"I…"
"Oh, Henry."
"Don't worry; I'll go check on him. He wanted to make you breakfast."
"You made me breakfast years ago," Regina states. "When you were about five." She smiles wistfully at this before her face morphs into something that looks like bemused horror. "You almost burned our house down."
Henry makes a face. "Sorry about that."
"Do you even remember it?"
"No," Henry admits somewhat sadly. "But I can make you breakfast tomorrow to make up for it." He punctuates his offer with a hopeful smile and an adorably nervous shuffling of his feet.
"I would like that."
"Me, too."
"But for now, my sweet prince? I'm going to get showered and dressed, and you're going to ensure that we don't need to call the fire department."
"On it," he assures her. Then, with another smile, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Mom. And I'm really happy that you and Emma are getting along."
"Are we now?"
"You are. We all are. No matter what happens, it feels like family and I really like that," he says, and then turns and leaves her alone to her thoughts.
"We are getting along," she repeats to herself. "Dear Lord, we are."
Stitch is wearing the cooking apron again, but this time he's added a chef's hat that he'd found in the back of a drawer. He's covered almost head to foot in bright white flour – God only knows why considering he's trying to make pancakes using Bisquick mix with his bare paws – but he looks like he's having a complete blast making a catastrophic mess.
And Henry, well he's just watching from one of the stools.
Because Stitch isn't currently burning down the house.
Just the pancakes judging by the stacks (and there are at least half a dozen of them) of charred to a blackened crisp ones that are thrown all over all of the usually impeccably clean counters. Apparently, Stitch can figure out how to mix batter, but he can't figure out how to cook pancakes up on the grill.
"Stitch made breakfast!" he announces proudly when Regina enters the kitchen, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. "Pancakes. With syrup!"
"He tried the syrup," Henry tells her. "He liked it. Maybe a little too much."
"Maple," Stitch nods. And then holds up the bottle, tips it back to his mouth and takes a deep swig from it, sticky brown liquid getting on his muzzle.
"Stitch," Regina scolds. "Stop that this moment. That's far too much sugar."
He tilts his head, shrugs then brings the bottle to his mouth and obediently vomits the now very warm syrup that he'd consumed back into it.
"I'm not using that," Henry states, his lip curling in disgust.
"No," Regina agrees. "Stitch, put that down."
"Fine," he grumbles before dropping the bottle into the sink. It makes a loud crashing sound and Regina just knows that she's going to be spending most of her afternoon picking glass out of the drain. Still, she chooses to not overreact because really, what would be the point of flipping out at this?
"Henry, go set the table," she sighs. "I'll…try to salvage the pancakes."
"Pancakes good," Stitch insists, looking like she'd just kicked him.
"I'm sure that they're excellent, dear," Regina replies, and she wonders if she really has changed so very much that she actually cares about whether or not she's hurting the feelings of a furry blue space experiment. She does, though, and so she gentles her voice and smiles at him. "But they're missing a few ingredients to make them fantastic. So what don't we add then, hm?"
He narrows his eyes at her, and she's suddenly reminded that while Stitch so often comes off as a rambunctious child, he's not one. He was created for destruction and chaos, and yes, as Emma had rather annoyingly pointed out, found his better self through love and family. He's smart and he knows when he's being placated, and the look he's giving her right suggests that he doesn't appreciate it one bit. "Stitch make pancakes," he states.
She puts her hands on her hips. "No. Stitch will not. Regina will."
Okay, so maybe she'd slipped herself one more tablet of the medication.
Just to ensure that this illness – fading, though it is – doesn't find a way to creep back up on her and make her crawl back to the bathroom again.
Unfortunately, the drugs really do make her rather goofy in the head.
Apparently, they also make her willing to argue with houseguests who just want to make her a nice breakfast of burnt to a crisp pancakes. "You are going to go sit down and wait for breakfast," she states. "Now go."
"No," he repeats. "Stitch will not go."
"You will. Go," she orders, pointing towards the table. Henry is standing over by it with a plate, watching their interaction with wide amused eyes, looking like he can't figure out whether or not he should intervene on this.
"Make me," Stitch taunts.
"Mom," Henry says immediately.
"Did you hear what he said to me?"
"I said 'make me'," Stitch repeats before jumping up on the counter. He then scampers towards the burnt pancakes on the counter, picks a handful of them up and shoves them into his mouth. Before grinning at her.
"Why you little –"
"Mom, he's just trying to antagonize you," Henry states. "Stitch, stop."
Stitch turns towards to Henry, mouth still full of charred pancakes, and then gestures at Regina wildly, "She's being mean," he garbles out.
"I am not being mean! I am trying to fix breakfast. Which you ruined!"
His ears droop suddenly, and then he's pouting. "Stitch ruined breakfast."
She feels a bit like she just kicked a dog.
She sighs. "Oh, Stitch."
"Stitch wanted to do a good thing," he says, his mouth opening and half-chewed pancake dropping onto the sink. In the interest of not continuing the fight or upsetting Stitch even more, Regina pretends to ignore it.
Henry, on the other hand, looks like he'd just seen his first naked girl.
"And you did," she tells him, tentatively stepping towards him. "Which I appreciate so very much. But Stitch, I like my pancakes a little less burnt."
"Okay," he grumbles.
"Good. Now jump off the counter, and go sit down. I'll make us another batch of pancakes, and then we can head over to City Hall. It's almost time."
"To go home?
"To Lilo," she confirms, and then lightly touches him on the head. "Please?"
He nods his head, and then jumps down and makes his way over to the dining room table. He pulls himself up on the chair and sits there, like it's completely normal for a creature that most people would consider to be the family dog to be sitting at the table. It's strange and unsettling, but well, Stitch isn't any kind of normal, and Regina actually likes that about him.
So he gets to stay at the table.
She figures she can blame the medication for making her do strange things.
And Henry, well he really should close his mouth before something flies into it.
Emma is waiting with her parents, Jefferson and Leroy at City Hall when Regina, Henry and Stitch finally arrive. There are a few crates near them, each of them containing at least one of Stitch's less than amused cousins.
They don't seem to be as happy as Stitch is about going home.
"Hey," Emma greets, frowning at the exhaustion she can still plainly see. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm well," Regina nods, her tone cool and her shoulders stiff. Whatever is or isn't going on between she and the sheriff, she's not about to show it off in front of anyone else in this made-up town. Especially her insipid parents.
Or Jefferson.
"All right," Emma says, frowning at Regina's tone. "Well, we're about ready to get started here. Once the portal opens, we'll have a short amount of time to get everyone in so if you want to say goodbye to Stitch, do it now."
"Right. Henry?"
"Yeah, okay." Henry steps towards Stitch, kneels down and then holds out his hand. "I'm going to miss you," he says. "We've had fun."
Stitch nods. "Fun."
"I have something for you to remember us by," Henry tells him. He looks over at Emma, and she nods her head and comes over to him. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a 5x8 photograph. He takes it from her and then shows it to Stitch, pointing to the people in it – Regina, Emma, Stitch and Henry. "I took this last night while you and mom were sleeping during the movie." And indeed, the photo shows Stitch and Regina slumbering together. It's a selfie kind of shot so the angle is strange and a bit awkward, but it's still easy enough to make out everyone.
"Mine?"
"Yours."
"Ohana," Stitch whispers and pulls the picture to his chest.
"Ohana," Emma confirms.
Stitch nods his head thoughtfully, and then steps away from Henry and Emma and makes his way over to where Regina is standing. When he gets to her, he tugs on the sleeve of her jacket, encouraging her to kneel down and speak to him eye to eye. He shows her the picture and points to them in it. "No one gets forgotten."
She swallows hard. "No," she agrees. "Not forgotten."
"We have one for you, too," Emma murmurs from beside her.
She nods her gratitude. "I won't forget you," she tells him.
Stitch sniffles loudly and it's weird, but it makes her eyes water, and then he steps forward and throws his furry arms around her waist. She pauses for the briefest of moments, and then returns the hug, closing her dark eyes.
"Your Lilo is a very lucky girl," she says.
"Stitch lucky," he replies.
"I know the feeling." She allows the emotion of the moment to warm her heart for a few seconds before she wipes her hand past her watery eyes and then husks out," All right, enough of this; you're making my mascara run."
He steps away from her, then pulls the picture back towards his chest and looks over at Emma. "Stitch ready to go home now," he tells her.
"Okay," Emma agrees. "As soon as the portal opens, we'll unlock the crates and then it's up to you to get everyone in."
"Understood."
"Jefferson, you're up."
"Whatever," the petulant hatter mutters. He glares over at David just for show and then throws his hat down onto the ground and gives it a hard spin. Almost immediately, purple energy starts to surround it, and then it suddenly swells and explodes open, a portal appearing inside of it.
"Now!" Emma yells at Stitch over the sound of air and wind moving quickly. Behind her, she sees her parents and Leroy popping the crates open.
Stitch looks back at Regina once more. "You're part of Stitch's Ohana now."
"You're part of mine now, too."
He grins at her, and then turns and rushes towards his cousins who are now making their way out of their crates, each of them looking a bit confused.
"Follow," he says to them. Immediately, they fall in step behind him and he leads them towards the portal, his ears flopping around in the wind. And then with all of the glee of a young child, he screams out, "Cowabunga!"
The portal snaps shut a few moments later – with Stitch and off his cousins somewhere within the hat, presumably on their way home – and then all there is left is the kind of weird silence that almost always follows chaos.
"Well that was fun," Emma finally says.
"I guess all that's left to do is clean up now," David sighs.
"Yes, well, have fun with that," Regina replies.
"You're not going to help?" Mary Margaret asks, an eyebrow up. She doesn't seem the least bit surprised.
"Do I look like a peasant, dear?"
"Hey," David protests.
Regina grins. "Oh, I didn't say your wife did, Charming. I think you're…well, you may have to actually go in search of the –"
"Okay, well that's probably enough of that," Emma interrupts, exasperation clear in her wide green eyes. "Don't worry, Regina, we've got this covered. You should probably go home and try to sleep off the rest of your attitude."
"And you should probably attempt to do your job, Sheriff. If that so happens to involve locking our local lunatic back up into his house until he's need again –"
"Me?" Jefferson protests. "You're the sociopath who –"
"Just stop," Emma sighs. "Go home, Regina. Take less of Doc's illegal drugs, and try to get some sleep so you'll be nicer. If you even have that mode."
"She doesn't," Jefferson grumbles.
"Shut up," David says. Then to Emma, "I'll take him back to this place."
"This is police brutality," the hatter snarls as David's hand settles around his forearm, and the once-prince starts to yank him towards a squad car.
"You still have your fingers," Emma reminds him.
"She's a bad influence on you," Jefferson yells at her. "You may think you're different, but being friends with the Queen always end up badly. Trust me."
Emma just rolls her eyes. To her son, she says, "Henry?"
"Yeah, I know; I'll get her back to bed."
"I don't need –"
"Thanks, kid," Emma interrupts. Then, she turns away from Regina and from Jefferson and focuses on her mother and Leroy. Anything that will help her not think about all of the crazy thoughts about Regina that are going around in her head.
When the former queen leaves with Henry a moment later, she pretends not to watch her go.
"You didn't have to come by to check on us," Regina says when she opens the front door to the house to reveal a shivering and wet Emma Swan. It's raining heavily outside, and Emma looks a bit like a pathetic drowned rat.
"I know."
"You're soaking wet."
"I know," Emma chuckles.
"Would you like to come in?" She steps back and gestures inwards. "I have a fire going."
"I would like to come in, but to be honest, what I'd really like is to go home and sleep," Emma admits.
"All right, then why are you here instead of there?"
"Because I did want to check up on you two," Emma allows with a sheepish shrug. "You weren't looking great earlier and –"
"Some advice, dear: informing the woman that you've been flirting with – especially when she's a Queen – that she ever looks less than great is…well it's a questionable approach at best," Regina tells her with a smirk.
"Yeah," Emma sighs. "It's been a long day. Stitch may have been good overall, but his cousins were real assholes."
"I'm sorry for leaving you to handle it all."
"Oh, you're not off the hook. There's a whole new stack of rather colorful property damage reports on your desk."
"Wonderful. Emma, why are you here? A call to Henry would have sufficed if all you wanted to do was check in on us."
"Are you feeling better?" she asks.
"A little," Regina replies. "I've slept most of the afternoon."
"Good. You miss Stitch?"
"I do. Henry wants me to get a puppy from the shelter. He thinks that having an animal around will be good for me."
"He might be right. Do you get the picture I sent over?"
"I did, thank you. And yes, I'll consider the puppy. Would you like me to get Henry so you can say goodnight."
"No, I'll text him it. I actually did come by to see you."
"Why?"
"Because I'd like to kiss you goodnight."
Regina blinks. "What?"
"Like you said, we've been flirting with each other –"
"I said that you'd been flirting with me."
"Same difference."
"Not quite, but do go on."
"I've just been thinking all day about how easy it is to lose the people you care about. What if we hadn't been able to get Stitch home? He would have lost his family forever. And yeah, he would have had a new family, but something inside of him would have always been –"
Her words are cut off by the soft touch of lips against hers. The kiss is gentle, chaste, oddly sweet and rather tender especially considering that the person kissing her is a former Evil Queen. It's also quite amazing.
When Regina separates from Emma, her eyes are blown wide and she looks bewildered, but not displeased. Which is good considered that she'd initiated the kiss. "Goodnight, Emma," Regina husks. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Emma smiles. "You will. Goodnight."
She turns on her heels and head back down the walk towards her car.
"That is assuming you didn't just catch my…whatever it is I have," Regina calls after her, unable to hide the wicked smirk covering up her lips.
"Well, if I did catch it," Emma replies, her back still to Regina, "I guess then it'll be your turn to take care of me, now won't it, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, I suppose I will."
Emma allows herself a small grin, and then continues the walk to her car.
All the while pretending not to notice that this time, it's Regina who is watching her.
-FIN