Five weeks had already passed since Hook's death, and Emma had shut herself away from most aspects of her life. She would accept visits from her parents and from Henry, but few others. Even Regina had slowly been nudged out of Emma's inner circle.
Two years ago, that might have offended the dark haired former Queen. It might have earned Emma a cold stare at the least. But not now.
Regina understood — probably better than anyone else — what it was to loose love. To have love ripped away from you before your very eyes. And maybe that was why Emma couldn't risk seeing her. Because she understood and even understanding was unbearable.
Perhaps Regina might have tried to push through those barriers in her friend were the circumstances even slightly different. But as it was, she was well occupied herself.
Standing in front of the full length mirror, Regina's brow was wrinkled in longing disapproval. Longing for a time not long ago when dressing herself was easy, and didn't require magic. And disapproval at how ill fitting her current frock appeared. She let out a sigh and turned to the side, her eyes fixed on the pronounced roundness of her belly. She waved her hand over her middle, letting the seam of her navy dress loosen a bit more. Better, she thought to herself.
She turned to face herself straight on, letting her gaze begin at her bare shoulders, falling slowly over her arms, noting her fuller breasts, skirting quickly over her round belly, and trailing to her legs — smiling then, because she was quite pleased with her legs, despite everything else.
Deciding this would do well enough, Regina turned and bent down to grab hold of the black heels she favored as of late. Their decidedly lower heel gave her a little more balance (and hers was constantly shifting), but still allowed her to feel dignified — regal.
Making her way downstairs, she smiled when she heard the happy — and familiar — sound of revving engines against cheerful music. Peering over the bannister, she found Henry and Roland sitting together on the couch, their eyes glued to the television, hands gripping the controllers as two small caricatures of animated Italian men raced in brightly colored clownish cars on the screen. Henry favored this game, and she was grateful that it was something he and Roland could play together.
"Hey," she breathed out with a smile as her heel clicked against the tile, stepping down off the stair.
Robin had rounded the corner out of the kitchen just in time to catch sight of her descending, and he was flooded with memories of powerful and beautiful magical creatures, stories told around the fire. He was certain he'd found one for himself, and that one was standing before him now.
He smiled, and leaned in to kiss her — once, twice — his hand planted firmly against her hip.
"Morning," he hummed contently, his eyes roaming over her frame. "I made breakfast," he promised.
Regina was beaming — and she loved him so much for doing these small things for her, for their family, that she didn't have the heart to tell him she wasn't hungry.
"Thank you," She replied, stealing a third, chaste kiss, before stepping away, her hand over his, hesitant to release him.
"I was going to try and see if Emma was up for a visit," she admitted, moving into the kitchen, letting him trail behind.
"I thought she was refusing to see anyone," Robin replied, his brow furrowed.
Regina would insist that this distance between she and Emma meant nothing to her. She would swear that she understood where she was coming from, and understood her reaction to Hook's death, and that she could sympathize. She had argued on more than one occasion that she had reacted the same way when Daniel was killed. But Robin knew that despite all of her logic, the rift — whether she was at fault or not, and she was not — hurt her. And Robin hated to see her hurt.
"Well…" Regina began, wincing because she knew he was right. "She's had five weeks," she sighed, hating herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. Because it didn't matter how much time she had. The love of her life was dead. And Regina had spent a lifetime hurting over her own loss. Five weeks was nothing.
"That came out wrong," she insisted, reaching for a mug, pouring hot water from the kettle over a tea bag. "I just… I think she needs company. She just doesn't know she needs it," she said with a nod, her brow arching upwards — a tell tale sign that she felt she was right, and justified.
It was a sign that Robin knew well, and he chuckled at that.
"I've been where she is," she added, now dripping honey into the mixture, and stirring quietly with a small spoon. "When I lost Daniel," she began, and noticed that for the first time, she felt fully at ease talking about Daniel out loud with him.
"I…shut everything out. Everything that I needed, I refused. I closed off the people who loved me, and I turned hurt into anger into…something darker," she admitted. "I don't want that for her. She may not want my help, but she's going to get it," she said with a nod, tapping the spoon against the side of the mug, then lifting it to her lips, licking the remaining honey from the inside.
Robin watched her with a raised brow, his smile growing. She was seductive without even trying. Even pregnant — maybe, especially pregnant — she had him going weak in the knees and wishing he were the spoon.
Regina lifted the mug to her lips, sipping slowly, smiling with her eyes over the rim. There was the sudden thought that perhaps she would stay home that morning instead of visiting Emma. Emma could wait one more day.
Her eyes went wide suddenly and she pulled her lips back from the mug, letting out a gasp. Startled by something, her hands fumbled and the mug dropped to the counter, tipping through the air and spilling tea everywhere.
Regina let out a breath and brought her hand against the top of her belly, her mouth hanging open in obvious shock.
Robin called out her name nervously and rushed to her side, his hand joining hers, panic rising in his chest. "Regina? Regina what is it? What's wrong," he begged, his eyes pleading for answers.
But she simply stared ahead, brown eyes going glassy. She breathed in slowly, her eyes softening and lips pulling into a smile.
"She kicked," she whispered, her words coming out in something of a breathy laugh. "I…I felt it. I felt her kick," she marveled, finally breaking her stare to look into his face.
Robin moved his palm against her belly, and he let her adjust its position, his heart still pounding in his chest from the sudden scare. He waited, holding his breath in anticipation, feeling the slow rise and fall of her abdomen with each breath she took.
He was about to pull back, deciding that the baby had perhaps changed her position, promising himself that he would get another chance, soon. But his palm had barely moved when there was the sudden and distinct thump beneath the pads of his fingers.
Tears were brimming in his eyes in an instant, and he laughed softly, unable to help but lean in and kiss her again — and again and again. He dipped his head, letting his nose nuzzle against hers, his hand fixed against her middle, thumb rubbing back and forth over the swell.
They stayed there a long while, just holding each other, and crying happy tears, and celebrating this milestone.
"You look almost chipper," Snow noted with a raised brow, failing miserably at hiding the smirk on her lips.
Regina snorted and rolled her eyes, lifting herself on her toes as she slid onto the stool at the kitchen island in Snow's apartment.
"That's terrifying coming from you," she replied with a laugh, leaning her elbows forward onto the surface, leaning into the counter.
"Have you been to see her?" Snow asked, leaning over the countertop to pass Regina a mug of tea, taking her own up between both hands.
Regina shook her head and brought the mug to her lips, sipping slowly and regretting this one aspect of pregnancy — that her favored sips of whiskey were now replaced with weakened tea.
"No," she swallowed, eyes going wide as she let out a sigh, letting the warm tea seep through her.
"Well. Yes," Regina corrected herself, leaning back slightly to run a hand alongside the side of her growing belly. Her skin was so damn itchy as of late, and no amount of lotion seemed to help. She wished, to herself, that she hadn't just begun to rub because now all she could think of was how badly she wanted to scratch.
"I went to the house. Two weeks ago now?" she hummed, trying to think of when she'd last made an attempt.
"She wouldn't come to the door," she added with a sigh. "I left after a few minutes of begging."
Snow laughed at that, despite the levity of the situation, because Regina Mills did not beg. Ever.
"I saw her through the window as I left. She was just lying on the couch. Staring," Regina explained, her eyes narrow and her voice soft because she could see how this was hurting Snow.
"I'm worried about her," Regina confessed after a long silence between them.
"Me too," Snow whispered.
"Regina." David's voice announced his presence, offering a smile as he pushed through the front door, leaning in quickly to press a kiss to Snow's lips before hanging his gun and holster up in the cabineted hook.
"What's going on," he asked, sensing something in the air between the two women.
"Emma," Snow explained, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the sink.
"Well…" David began, ready to excuse his daughter — because she had, in fact, lost her love not that long ago, and everyone grieved differently —
"She still hasn't let Regina in," Snow interrupted, sighing sadly. The irony was a bit much, but Regina represented hope for Emma to her parents.
David sighed, then, too, his eyes going to their former enemy. He was more willing than the two women to let this play out over time. Snow was anxious to have her daughter back, and Regina — well, Regina wasn't known to be patient about much of anything.
"You look good," David offered with the gesture of his chin to Regina, hoping to change the subject to something a bit lighter.
Regina rolled her eyes and lifted her mug into her hands once again. "I look like a barge," she replied dryly, sipping again simply to avoid elaborating.
"Regina," Snow scolded, tipping her head to the side.
David stepped out slowly, wanting to give Regina the freedom to not be under his gaze anymore, to spare her any more of the attention she was clearly not used to receiving.
"How are you?" Snow asked, allowing the subject to be shifted, but not changed altogether.
That earned her another eye roll.
"I'm…fine," Regina reluctantly replied.
She set her mug down and let her gaze lower to her full belly, still not fully adjusted to this new form, even now after thirty weeks.
Snow was silent, but her eyes encouraged her to continue, to expound.
"It's…." Regina began with a sigh, only to realize she didn't know where to begin. "It's Robin," she tried again, hoping that this would be an appropriate starting point.
"Are you two having trouble?" Snow asked, leaning forward in a display of genuine interest and concern, and an openness to offer counsel for a friend.
"No," Regina shook her head, stopping that train of thought before it left the station.
In another lifetime, that question would have earned Snow one of her famous apple turnovers.
"No, it's nothing like that. I don't think," Regina offered.
Another sigh left the Queen's lips — because she was not one to divulge so much personal information, but she felt she was at the mercy of hormones run rampant. Her emotional strength had certainly begun to wane as of late, and the more her belly grew, the worse it got.
"He's just been… not distant," she corrected herself mid-thought.
Not secretive, either. But maybe something in between.
"And I'm so…." she started, looking down at her belly again as if to make her point. "I don't feel…"
"Regina," Snow whispered, moving from her place to be at Regina's side, her arm going around her shoulders, rubbing gently to comfort her.
"Regina, no," she assured her. "This is… this is completely normal," she promised.
"When I was pregnant with Neal…right around this time, I felt enormous."
You were enormous, Regina thought to herself, then immediately felt the weight of guilt settle over her.
"Robin loves you completely," Snow promised with a smile, letting her eyes lock with the older woman's. "Completely. I've never seen anyone more in love since you two found out about the baby. You're worrying over nothing. And the best way to remedy that is to talk to him," she encouraged.
And Regina knew she was right. And she hated that, too.
She didn't want to admit it — and she might not ever have to, to anyone but herself — but Regina was ready to take Snow's advice. She left the Charming's apartment with a mission. To talk to Robin. Walking up the brick-lay path to her front door, Regina let out a breath to steel herself against her own nerves.
Pushing through the door, she slipped out of her coat, hanging it in the foyer as she called out. "Robin?"
Nothing.
"Henry?" she tried, her heels clicking as she moved slowly through the house.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh, thinking that she would have to work up the courage a second time, later. Slipping out of her heels, she bent down to pick them up off the floor, hooking her fingers in the heels and walking up the staircase slowly, balancing herself against the bannister.
Cursing herself for being winded after a single flight of stairs, Regina swallowed to clear her dry throat, but stopped, hearing low voices and hushed laughter.
"Robin?" she called out again, passing her bedroom door and making her way further, towards the spare room at the opposite end of the hall.
"Henry?" she asked again with thinly veiled trepidation in her voice.
She pushed the door open, unsure what she would find — but nothing would have prepared her for what there was.
"SURPRISE!"
Robin and Roland and Henry were all standing in a freshly painted room. The old furniture and outdated files that had been stored in there since the first curse was enacted had all been cleared out, replaced with lightly painted, dainty pieces. Shelves with a few strategically placed, brightly colored story books stacked up, a rocking chair, a changing table. Stuffed animals piled neatly in the corner. And a mobile hanging from the ceiling in front of the windows where they were standing. Regina was beaming, her eyes filling rapidly with tears as she looked around, trying to take it all in. "You did all of this?" she asked in a whisper, flinching when Henry and Roland both rushed forward to hug her, leaving her at the center of a clump of happy faces, and arms and legs.
"When?" she asked in disbelief, stepping forward to begin examining everything in more detail.
"You've been so occupied with helping Emma lately," Robin offered, not moving from his place — and Regina was only vaguely aware that he was standing in front of something.
"We wanted to cheer you up! And surprise you!" Roland chimed in, his chin turned up in a comically exaggerated way, his bright brown eyes wide as he watched her happily, reveling in her excitement.
"You like it?" Henry asked, watching as his mother bent forward to carefully examine the book shelf.
Laughing loudly, Regina reached forward, sliding a bright purple book out of the center of a stack. "The Happy Adventures of the Not-So-Evil Queen," she read aloud, letting a tear escape quietly. "Where did you get this?" she asked with a tearful giggle, turning to look over her shoulder, holding the book out to show off the cover: a cartoon drawing of a girl who only vaguely looked like her, but who held an apple in one hand and a crown in the other.
"Belle found it," Robin said with a proud smile — because he'd hounded the young woman for weeks trying to collect children's books that the daughter of a former painted villain would be proud to read. "We had them all ordered. Took damn near a month to arrive," he chuckled.
A month. Regina silently counted back and cursed herself for thinking that there was ever anything other than love between them.
"I thought…" she began, but decided against finishing, because none of it mattered now.
She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning in for a kiss, the bright purple book still in her hand. She grinned against his lips when she felt his hands go to the sides of her belly, and laughed when the baby moved, the shift beneath her skin felt by both of them.
"I love you," Regina hummed — and she was ready to accept the overwhelming display of love as it was. But there was more.
"One more thing," Robin promised with a smile. He took her hand in his own and stepped to the side, revealing his last surprise.
Regina was silent, save for a deep breath out, her eyes falling to the carved cradle before her. The legs were trunks, and the sides were tree tops, a canopy of delicately carved wood spread over the top. It was painted — white — but in the center of each tree were bright red clusters of circles. Apples.
Shaking her head, because she hardly felt she deserved so much, Regina wrapped her arm around Robin's middle and leaned her head against his arm — and she just stared, trying to imagine a baby lying there. Ten weeks was altogether an eternity, and nothing at all.
At some point during the last week, Emma had emerged from her home. She had paid a visit to Gold's shop, and retuned with the fire in her eyes that was so unmistakably Emma. In a matter of hours, she had called her family together, to meet at the Charming's apartment. Because she had news. And she had a plan.
"You're going to hell?" Snow asked, turning her cheek into the question, as though she were certain she hadn't heard correctly.
"The Underworld," Emma corrected — as if that were any better.
"That's quite a distinction," David interrupted, less than amused.
"I'm getting him back," Emma said softly, and the look in her eyes meant she would — and no one was going to stop her.
"This isn't fair to Killian. Gold tricked him. Everything he gave up was based on a lie…"
"Emma, you know how this works. This is a one-for-one trade," David reminded her gently. "To get him back, someone else will have to die."
"And you just got back from being the Dark One. You can't give into darkness again," Snow pleaded softly.
"I won't. I'm giving into love. I'm doing this right," Emma promised.
Regina looked up at her words, her hand in Robin's against her lap.
"I learned my lesson. I'm taking a page out of your book," Emma explained, hoping to speak to the hope-loving parents she'd learned so much from in recent years.
"You two share a heart. And so will we," she pressed, her lips curling into a half smile — because her plan was brilliant, foolproof. Wasn't it?
"It could work," Regina agreed with a nod, after a long silence hung in the room.
"It will work," Emma corrected her hopefully.
"Uh. Forgive me if I'm missing the obvious," Robin said, clearing his throat.
"But, um. How does one get to the Underworld?" he asked. And he was nervous, because he knew — he could feel — that whatever this plan was, Regina would want to be with her, to help and support her. And to protect her.
They were standing on the edge of the pond — Emma and Gold, Snow and Charming, Robin, Regina and Henry. They had wasted no time in finding Gold and dragging him there in the dark of night. It was cold, and a light fog had settled not just over the pond, but over the field as well. It was eerie — and foreboding.
"Do it." Emma demanded, looking to Gold to keep up his end of the bargain they'd made.
Gold lifted the Dark One's dagger in one hand and brought the blade against the palm of his other. One swift pull down, and he was spilling his blood into the dark water below. The fog grew thicker, heralding the arrival of Charon's boat.
Regina pulled her coat a little more snugly over herself, tugging the belt a bit tighter over the top of her belly before resting her hand on Henry's shoulder.
Emma stepped out onto the surface of the water first, followed by Snow and Charming. And because the question of whether or not they were going, too, had already been answered — because this was her friend, and her family, and the woman who had given her this child in the first place — Robin held Regina's hand tightly, helping her down next.
She walked slowly at Henry's side, her arm linked with his half in the need to protect him, always, and half in the need for reassurance, herself — and balance.
And one by one, they boarded the boat. And they began their journey to the Underworld. Together.