Thank you for all the reviews and follows. This is far different from my usual bag in terms of SQ, but I decided to give my original story style and my fanfiction style a swing. To answer one of the reviews, yes, this will be a non-magical AU.

Here ye be, my darlings. Enjoy!

Song: Broken Windows by David Cook

Terrible idea.

Regina Mills became well-acquainted with the dreaded hangover many years ago, considered it her only friend most days, but no one in her right mind chased two bottles of wine with scotch and expected anything resembling affability. Pinching at the throb behind her eyes with no alleviation of the pressure, she allowed her mind a moment to adjust to reality. Chimes banged and clattered, the culprit of her harsh awakening. Confusion scratched through the haze. No one had visited her house since the first month of her residency. Granny made lasagna that night, taught her the secret recipe, the only night she'd used the damn kitchen.

If not for her churning stomach, she'd have laughed at the first thought that barreled into her mind. Of course, that old woman permeated her entire life whether she wanted her there or not.

Still, who had the guts to ring her doorbell? Perhaps she'd missed a disaster in town the previous night, slept through the phone calls in a drunken stupor. Where had she left her phone? Two uncoordinated arms reached in either direction, finding the sharp edge of a table and cool, plush leather. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa in her office. Harsh light bashed the inside of her skull, and she squeezed the bloodshot organs closed with a tiny whimper. Persistent knocking forced them open again.

"Someone better be dead," she vowed, her voice deeper and scratchier than usual. It used to vibrate her throat so smoothly – that was before she drank herself sleepy every night for years.

The abrasive banging recommenced as she stepped off the last step leading to the foyer and wrenched the heavy wood open mid-knock to find a startled Emma Swan on the other side, arm still poised by her head. "What?"

"Sweet shit on a cracker, what the hell happened to you?"

Regina closed her eyes, holding a palm on the door frame for balance. She'd not once considered her appearance between her office and the front door. Now, the crisp morning air perked her nipples beneath nothing but a camisole and silk bra, excited goosebumps down her arms and bare legs. It had to be this child to find her in such a state. Where the hell was Sydney when she needed his obtrusive presence?

"And you're worried about me getting shitfaced?"

"Speak your purpose, Miss Swan. I'd prefer to look upon your face briefly this morning."

"You'd have to actually open your eyes for that," Emma blurted, winced, reset her battle stance as those caramel eyes glared at her from the tiny slits Regina allowed. "I brought your card back," she explained quickly and held up an envelope.

Regina smacked the package into the palm of her hand and slammed the door as Emma drew breath to say something else. She had no time or patience for games or insults that morning. Blind, she stumbled up the five stairs leading to the foyer, dropped the card on the hardwood, felt her way up the stairs. Her body knew this path, especially in this mental state. Stacy had covered for her for years. She owed the quiet redhead a deep gratitude that she felt but rarely showed. Brown eyes cracked wide enough to snag the aspirin waiting on the corner of her nightstand. Grateful the chill of night kept the water in her pipes cool, she swallowed the pills and splashed her pale face.

The shower warmed just enough to cool her body without shocking her system, relaxing her instantly beneath the powerful jets massaging her weary flesh. Both hands pressed to cool porcelain behind the stream, the water beat the back of her bowed head and shoulders until the world began making sense once more. She needed to stop drinking. A thousand mornings saw this same argument inside her mind, and a thousand nights saw the ravishment of another stash she'd promised not to touch. Reluctantly, she abandoned the safety of the soothing water, avoiding the mirror at all costs as she toweled off and slipped into a kimono. The flimsy fabric stuck and stuttered over damp skin, cooling and then warming pleasantly beneath wet hair barely long enough to touch the back of her neck.

The first hint of something awry in her home came with the scent of coffee hitting her stomach when her foot touched the hardwood of her foyer. The second came in the form of an, "Ouch! Damn it!" in her kitchen. Bare feet slapped at the floor, announcing her arrival. A demon possessed her, angry and foaming at the mouth.

The sight of Emma Swan making scrambled eggs at her stove tossed glacial water atop the now steaming creature. A fresh grease stain splotched her old gray jacket, probably too thin to make any difference against the heavy gusts off the coast. The hot oil must have caused her to cry out a moment earlier. She'd clearly gotten over the plight quickly.

"Hey," Emma said, not bothering to explain her presence. She scraped the eggs onto a plate and poured a cup of coffee. "Seriously, you need to get some real food in this house. I had to borrow eggs and bread from Ms. Ginger across the street." Toast popped. Emma caught it with one hand and replaced the carafe onto the hotplate with the other. She grinned, proud of her finesse. Regina rolled her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Making you breakfast," Emma explained, not even slightly frazzled by the band of death energy wafting from Regina.

"I'm quite capable of feeding myself."

"Yeah, your freezer meals took the morning off." Emma tossed the plate with buttered toast and scrambled eggs onto the island and wiped her hands on the towel that hadn't moved from the oven door in over a year.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You have been nothing but rude and antagonistic since the moment you arrived like a fog of trailer trash stench that refuses to air out."

"I've been rude? I'm sorry, majesty, who the fuck threatened to have me arrested after five minutes? Fuck me, no wonder no one wants to be around you. I'm trying to do something nice. Maybe they're right. Ya know, I thought if I extended an olive branch, you'd at least give me some slack, but fine, whatever, I've learned my lesson. You can't melt the ice around someone's soul when there's nothing in the center." Emma pushed past the stunned woman, charged for the front door, stopped.

"I came here this morning to tell you that I was going to take you up on your offer, but I didn't want to carry around your fucking card. I'm glad I got to see the real you before I did something stupid." Tugging the thin hood of her old grey jacket over her head, Emma braved the chilly Maine morning, more confused by Regina. Nothing the mayor did or said added up to make a cohesive personality, just bits and pieces of an incomplete soul possibly more lost than she.

She picked her way through the unusually crowded streets of Storybrooke, growing more irritable with each person who smiled and offered a tiny flag to wave around like an idiot. Of course she rolled into town the week of a fucking festival. Small towns freaking loved festivals. They probably had an apple festival during harvest season. And a fish festival during peak tourist season, but a straight-up crab festival for the town before the start of the tourist infestation. One to celebrate the perfect pitcher of lemonade and another for the best chili in the fall. The jubilant energy poked and prodded the thick wall of negativity surrounding Emma. Regina's hangover was going to love all the noise. A sliver of sick satisfaction wormed into her chest, and Emma snickered. The stuck-up woman wasn't as badass as she wanted everyone to believe. She just needed to find the trigger to get her to crumble and chill the fuck out. Why did she even care? She cared about Regina for the same reason she cared about everyone; she valued their lives over her own. It's how she ended up pregnant, broke and homeless. She'd already sold her soul to the devil and accepted that role. If she couldn't save herself, she'd damn well give her all to save others.

Some people, though, were as damaged and damned as she, and her inability to differentiate that from someone like Ruby frustrated her. She wasn't the only person in the world who couldn't be saved.

Happily, she stepped into the protection of the diner, where the insanity – in her mind and the town – stopped and reality resumed. Granny grunted as she entered. Only two customers lingered from the breakfast rush, but none of them paid her any attention, already used to her bulk waddling around the dining room. Ruby looked up from a notebook and smiled. Of course, the schools had closed in celebration of the town holiday. Emma closed the door against the noisy drums and flat brass of a high school marching band and slumped against it.

"Tell me again what Founder's Day is," she sniped.

"It's a town holiday to celebrate the day Storybrooke was founded and officially became a chartered town," Ruby explained, almost robotically, and returned her eyes to the notebook. Ah yes, tourists probably asked about it because they saw it on a brochure, though no one in their right mind would be here on vacation at the time of the event.

"Shiny," Emma grumbled and wandered to the younger girl. Leaning forearms on two thin shoulders, she peeked at the notebook. "Whatcha writing?"

"It's a daily journal Dr. Hopper makes me keep. He's my therapist. I usually write in school," she confessed, whispering in conspiracy, shifty brown eyes on Granny's back.

"I heard that, Ruby Lucas, and you better keep your grades up." That woman had wolf hearing and psychic visions.

Emma grinned down as Ruby looked up. Giggles erupted the second their eyes met. Granny glanced over her shoulder, glasses lowered. The girls laughed harder. Emma collapsed onto the stool next to her friend and leaned back against the counter. The old woman harrumphed, hands punched to a buxom waist. Even if she'd been steaming mad, hearing and seeing Ruby laugh again would have cooled that rage. It'd been so very long, before her mother died, even. She should have taken custody sooner. The remaining table tossed amused looks at the teenagers as they paid. Granny shooed them out the door and then parked her hip against the counter just across from her girls, patiently enduring the petering laughs.

"Oh!" Emma grabbed her belly. "What the hell are you doing, Gremlin?"

"Is it moving? Can I feel it?"

Big brown eyes pleaded with her better judgement. She wasn't supposed to get attached to the damn thing, or Ruby and Granny for that matter. Eyes rolling, Emma snagged her hand and pressed it against the dancing fetus. Ruby gasped, eyes bouncing from Emma's to Granny's and back to the magical belly moving beneath her palm. A wide, bright smile grew on her lips, and Emma hated that she loved being the cause of it. She liked Ruby. It just made things more difficult.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

Emma shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. It's not like I'm keeping it."

"What? You have to keep it!"

"No," Emma pushed to her feet, "I don't." She grabbed the plates from the table that just left and disappeared into the kitchen, running from the thing she refused to deal with like always.

"But…"

"That's enough, Ruby Elizabeth," Granny snapped, ending the protest before it started. "It's not our place to say what Emma should and shouldn't do with her child."

"But, Granny, Emma would be a great mom."

"Be that as it may, sometimes letting go is the best choice. I know you're old enough to understand that."

When Ruby burst into tears, Emma ground her teeth and gripped the edge of the stainless steel island in the center of the kitchen. "I hope I'm never old enough to understand. I hope I'm never old enough to stop fighting for the people I love, like you and Regina!" She pushed the door open in time to see Ruby shove Granny away, her thin body barely balanced enough for the task.

"Ruby…"

"No, you don't get it! You didn't fight for mom when dad was beating the shit out of her every day, or me when he started on me. You didn't fight for Regina when she left, you wouldn't even let me see her, and she never fought for us. She was like a second mom to me and she just left!" Ruby bolted for the back stairs, not even noticing Emma through the tears blurring her vision.

"I didn't know it would upset her so much," Emma apologized.

"It's not you. That girl has taken fits over everything the past five years. She had a meltdown a few weeks ago because I served peach pie as a special instead of apple one evening. Archie, Dr. Hopper, calls it emotional disregulation from the trauma, though he's beginning to suspect something else."

"Like what?"

"Bipolar Disorder. I don't know much about it, but… Anyway." The old woman clammed up her own need to purge the difficult emotions caused by Ruby's condition and steeled herself for the task at hand.

"Was her father…?"

"He was," Granny snapped before the question finished. "Wouldn't take his damn medicine." Ugly, bitter, anger. Emma fought the palpable energy, it wasn't directed at her.

"I'm sorry she has to go through that. Ruby deserves better." Too close, Swan. You're too close. But it was too late, she was in it now. She needed to get the hell out of this town. What the hell had she been thinking?

Granny smiled sadly at the poor girl, glad someone else saw how special her granddaughter was. "Yes, she does." Old grey eyes turned towards the back stairs, burdened with sadness and the grief she must shoulder alone. "Mistakes were made with Ruby, but she's strong, she'll find her way."

"Must run in the family."

Granny shot a sardonic eye at the compliment, grateful not for the first time that Emma accepted their situation with such ease. She'd been good for Ruby, and for her too if she gave credit where it was due… in the dark of her locked bedroom… far away from anyone who might tell the smug teen how much she liked her. "Go on, girl. Get this place cleaned up and zip your sweet-talking mouth."

"Yes, ma'am." Emma's tone earned another sharp look before Granny shuffled away to comfort Ruby. Curiosity brought two fingers to the composition notebook left behind. The pads touched it, jerked away with a sizzle. Ruby should have meant nothing to her. Reading her most private thoughts should have come easily.

"The girl's a bit dramatic, isn't she?" The accented voice slid over her soul like a sweet balm. It sounded rougher than the last time they'd spoken, like she transformed her smooth British lilt into Australian overnight. She'd not even heard the bell rattle. The realization spread a sweet grin on her lips, she'd taught her well. She turned slowly and crossed her arms over sore breasts, much bigger than the last time they'd met.

"How'd you find me?"

"Doesn't matter. If I did, he certainly can."

"Don't play with me, Dr. French."

The other woman shifted uncomfortably, but no one else occupied the space. No one knew her identity, though they'd never recognize her now. Blonde hair now a dark reddish brown, big blue eyes covered with green contacts. "Dr. French is dead, and I'm not staying here but you need to. I covered your electronic tracks and he's grounded for the time being."

Emma smirked. "How exactly did you ground him?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets, but someone did clean out his bank account and set up a siphon program linked to the National Bank of America. Point 1 percent of every deposit adds up very quickly."

"Sneaky bitch. So, what should I call you now if you're not going by your real name?"

The woman shrugged and opened the door, her mission complete. "My last name is French and my favorite princess was always Belle."

"Well, thank you, Belle. I might actually get some sleep tonight." Sleep. She'd done little more than doze for the past seven months since the creature began growing inside of her.

"You're safe for now, Emma. Stay here, have your baby. I'll assist any way I can. If you need me, you can leave a message with Pigeon. I'm not far."

"Why are you helping me? I kidnapped you."

Belle glanced at Emma's rounded belly. "I owe you." And then she disappeared as quickly as she'd come… on a day when no one blinked at an extra face in the crowd. Surely, surrounding towns came to enjoy the carnival festivities. Sneaky, sneaky bitch.

Before Emma took two steps towards the kitchen to grab the broom, the bell jingled again, slammed. Only one person entered with such audacity. "What the hell? Is this grand fucking central today?"

"What?" Regina snapped. Her face carried genuine confusion, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Nothing, just something one of my foster moms used to say when people wouldn't stop calling." Regina absorbed the new information, visibly tucking it into a corner in her mind for later analysis. Emma cursed under breath. At this rate, everyone knew her tragic past within a week. Pregnancy hormones made her soft and sloppy. Instead of addressing it, she widened her stance and prepared for battle. "What do you want, her most royal pain in my ass?"

"Had you truly intended to accept my offer?" Regina always got straight to the point. Emma appreciated that, never could small talk very well.

Emma shrugged, hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans. "Granny said you're a good mayor, and no one else running would make much of a difference. You're not wrong. This kid needs stuff that I can't buy it. I just don't want to carry a card with your name on it in case you changed your mind. I don't trust you. Though I'm not sure I want a drunk in office because of me either, so I'm just going to figure it out on my own."

"I'm not a drunk, dear." Regina stalked behind the counter like she owned the damn place and poured coffee into the largest foam cup available. "I'm a socialite. A vice is not merely expected, it's a lifestyle." A five materialized from her purse and set neatly on the counter.

"Rich. Poor. Guess everyone is trying to escape this shitty world." They really weren't that different, Emma thought, not for the first time.

Regina hummed in agreement and sipped the coffee, not bothering to face her again. Emma waited. Whatever happened within the mayor the moment she saw her at the stove changed everything, changed something at least. No one had ever taken care of her, Emma theorized. She knew that feeling. It's why she wanted to stay with Granny. That woman, gruff and uncouth as she was, offered more love than an entire congregation of Aphrodite's followers – Ruby, too. She'd never tell them, but they made her feel safe for the first time in her life, solidified by Dr… Belle's protection from the outside world.

"Did you always want to be a politician?"

Finally, Regina turned, just to the side. Guarded caramel eyes squinted, always calculating. "There's a talented obstetrician in Camden. I'll call for an appointment this morning. The distance is inconvenient, but our bus runs there every day, twice a day. I expect you to make your appointments."

"Why can't I just see one in town?"

"Small towns are not renowned for premium medical staff, Miss Swan. They'll do for the common cold and emergencies, but I'd prefer the child be provided the best this area can offer. Christina will drive to Storybrooke when the time comes. Stacy, my assistant, can provide you with the appointment details and directions later today."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to take your offer after this morning?"

They locked stares again over the black plastic cap on the cup. Emma forgot about being bossed around by the snotty mayor. You're safe. Belle's words bounced around her brain. She'd never felt safe before, but Granny made it impossible to feel unloved. With him behind bars or on the run, she truly was safe. A thin, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised, succeeding in her silent effort to make Emma feel stupid for the continued façade.

The girl changed tactics, uncomfortable with Regina reading her so well. "How do you know so much about this? The only research you did last night was on the endurance of your liver."

"Good morning, Miss Swan." She refilled the cup. "Do be prompt in the retrieval of your assignments."

"I don't work for you, and you're money isn't nearly good enough to make me want to, especially when I have other options now." Belle had offered without actually offering, but she'd also told her to sit tight in Storybrooke until the storm calmed in her own world. Regina needn't know the details.

"This is a business arrangement. Do you expect me to hold your hand and reward you with lollipops for good behavior?"

"Only if you spank me and let me call you 'mommy.'" Regina's eyes shot open, red lips parted in a slight gasp. Emma chuckled, happy to be firmly beneath the mayor's skin where she belonged. Someone needed to keep this woman in check, and it amused her to do just that.

"I have agreed to honor your side of this arrangement. If you have specific demands, decide them quickly. I'll be in my office until noon, which means you have two hours. I have several last minute preparations for this evening's activities and haven't the time to coddle your sensitivities." Regina breezed by, mayor mask in place despite the fact they both knew she still felt like shit from her night of drunken shenanigans. Her energy pressed into Emma's shoulder when she halted and leaned toward her ear. "I do, however, draw the line at spanking children. I much prefer adults for such activities."

Two secret smirks, hidden and wiped away in a moment.

"Wait. That's it?" Regina set a hand on the door knob and allowed for elaboration, left red marks upon black as she sipped coffee. "Do you have multiple personalities? Because you sounded like you wanted to call this whole thing off 20 minutes ago."

"Miss Swan, you broke into my house. Did you honestly expect a welcoming reaction?" Emma nibbled her lower lip. No, from that perspective, she'd have been pissed, too. "Though pure in intention, do not repeat the gesture if you wish to remain free of criminal charges during your stay." The bell jangled.

"I want you to drive me to my appointments," Emma blurted the masochistic demand before she even thought about it.

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to drive me to my appointments. All of them."

Steam may have actually blown from the older woman's ears. "It's 25 minutes both ways."

"It's an hour by bus."

"Why on earth would you want to spend that much time with me in a small space? As you so elegantly stated earlier, no one wants to be trapped in a car with me, so do us both a favor and grow up."

"I want to stay at Granny's and I want you to drive me to my appointments." Emma crossed her arms.

"You're impossible."

"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'Thank you for putting up with my raging bitch.' Seriously, do you have a dragon for a pet?"

"Positively vile."

Emma chased her onto the stoop. A kid, maybe Ruby's age, with a camera ran up to the mayor. Emma wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled brightly. The kid almost dropped his equipment. News traveled fast in Storybrooke, and everyone knew of their little showdown the night Emma arrived.

"Thanks again, Mayor Mills. You can't know what it will mean to this child to have your support." Emma played it up, laughing harder internally as Regina's cheeks darkened at a steady rate.

"You're welcome. Now fucking smile," Emma growled around her cheeky grin and waved as more people stopped to take in the news.

"Emma, are you coming to the picnic tonight?" The kid asked.

Emma scrambled for his name. It was something common and mundane. She almost panicked, and then, "Of course, Tommy. Miss Swan will be my personal guest this evening."

"Awesome!" He flitted away.

Emma dug nails into her shoulder. "I hate you."

"A sentiment I understand all too well, Miss Swan. Don't be late. I'll pick you up at five-thirty sharp. Do find something to wear that wasn't mass produced for Wal-mart. Have the shop owners call for my card number." With that, Regina pushed into the crowd with her coffee, fake smile planted and façade running full steam.

Emma smirked at her belly. "Better enjoy it while I can, Gremlin, because when you come out, she's going to run me out of town on a rail."