AUTHORS NOTE: Fair warning, characters in this story will be both openly gay, and in the closet. If you don't like it, please don't read, and please don't leave any hate. Thanks!
After Robin Left
"Mom I'm really worried about her. It's been weeks! She locks herself in her room all day, and only comes out in the mornings, to puke. I don't know where she's getting her food and water, or even if she's getting it at all! We have to do something!" Henry pleaded with Emma.
"Henry she's a grown woman," Emma started, before Henry cut her off.
"Mom!" he exclaimed
"All right, all right! I'll check up on her for you okay?" Emma asked.
"You're the best," he said, pulling her in for a hug. When he let her go, she was gone in a puff of white smoke.
"Regina!" Emma called, landing in the Mayor's mansion, just inside the main entrance. The lower level of the house looked normal, as did most of the upper level, but when she neared Regina's room, the more destroyed things looked. Shards of broken glass were everywhere, the washing machine was laying on its side, and the ceiling fan was barely hanging on the ceiling, sparks emitting from the broken circuitry.
With a wave of her hand, Emma had the mess cleaned up. She reached the door to the bedroom, which was hanging off of its hinges. With a quick flick of the wrist, that was fixed too. The door wasn't closed, so she took a deep breath, and walked in.
"Regina?" she said softly, peering into the darkness that filled the room, despite the sunny day outside.
"Regina?" she asked again. She was answered by a low moan, coming from the general direction of the bed. "Regina!" Emma called, rushing to her side. The queen groaned in protest as Emma rolled her onto her back, so she could get a good look at her. Her makeup was smeared, and her clothes appeared to be the same ones she was wearing the day Robin left town with his wife and his son. In short, she looked terrible.
"Emma?" the woman asked groggily.
"Yeah Regina it's me," Emma replied with a small smile on her face. "You okay?" The peaceful look on Regina' s face soon turned into the one Emma was more accustomed to.
"Swan," she snarled menacingly, springing up, and away from the woman.
"That's more like it," Emma sighed.
"What the hell do you want?" Regina spat, managing to look every bit the all powerful, magical queen she was, even in her state.
"Henry's worried. He sent me to check on you," Emma explained.
"Well he shouldn't worry I'm fine," Regina growled in reply.
"Well then get you sorry ass out of bed, and go see our son!" Emma ordered. "This place is a mess, and when is the last time you took out the…" she trailed off, briskly walking to the overflowing trashcan, and plucking a box off of the top of the pile. She turned inquisitively towards Regina. "Trash?" she asked, revealing the torn open pregnancy test box she was holding.
Regina sat down on the edge of her bed, and put her head in her hands.
Present Day
"Hey Mom," a deep voice called from the foyer.
"Henry!" she exclaimed, walking towards the front door to greet the man, and the teenager standing next to him. "And Neal! What a surprise! Do you boys want anything?" she asked pleasantly, ushering the boys into the house.
"Uh," Henry shared a look with his uncle. "Hot cocoa with cinnamon!" They chorused. She chuckled a little bit, setting the already prepared mugs in front of the boys. Even though he was a Charming, she had taken a liking to Neal over the years. The fifteen year old was tall and lean. Where other boys his age were all gangly limbs and acne, he was toned muscle, and a decent amount of blondish-brownish facial hair to match the mop on his head. He had his mother's eyes, and his father's smile.
"Thanks Regina," he said, grasping his mug with both hands, and taking a few long gulps, draining the cup.
"So boys, how's the wedding planning go—" she started to say, before the front door burst open.
"Regina!" Emma and Hook's fifteen year old daughter burst in, her dark locks tousled, her tan skin flushed from running to the mansion from the town line, and her green eyes wide.
"There's—" she panted, trying in vain to catch her breath. "There's a—a man at the town line. And he's—he's uh—oh bloody hell that was a long run. He's just pacing the line back and forth like he uh—uh knows it's there. And he's shouting that he wants to see the queen.