Her bed felt wrong, sheets too cold and too soft and no matter which way she turned, comfort escaped her. Her body hurt, as if she'd been running, or hit with a fireball, and each movement set off a fresh ache somewhere deep in her muscles, but she couldn't settle. Regina turned, then turned again. Her left side was sore, but shifting onto her right left her looking at the wall, and she couldn't look at the wall. She stared at the ceiling, but its featureless white plane could do nothing to make her mind stop.
Her thoughts spiralled out of her control, an endless circle of questions that dredged up so many memories, so much pain. Old wounds ripped open and new guilt weighed her down.
When had it happened? How had she missed it? Had she laid next to Maleficent while she was pregnant? Had Mal wanted to tell her? Regina had made it impossible, hadn't she? All she had wanted in those days was revenge and pain. Even the pregnancy should have been impossible, even with all of Maleficent's power; Regina couldn't create life. She'd tried. She'd been lonely, desperate enough to wish Leopold could have gotten her with child but it never happened. Even when she'd tried to use magic, nothing worked. Regina herself was barren, either through some defect in her genes or her own magic, dark and sinister, destroying her body's ability to create life within her as she trained it to destroy life without. Even after all these years, she could offer no other explanation. It must have been her fault, for Leopold had Snow. No matter how many times the chaotic jumble of her thoughts turned over and over she could come to no other conclusion. She had always thought she was barren and would remain so.
It was the 'why' that kept ringing in the silence of her bedroom, though.
Maybe her magic had been in her all along, filling her with darkness and the emptiness that came with it. Or maybe Villains didn't get happy endings. Something in Regina's chest tightened and crumpled at that. It made a sick, terrible kind of sense. After all, the creation of life was the ultimate sign of 'Good' wasn't it? Rumplestiltskin hadn't had another child after he'd become The Dark One, trading instead in the lives of others' children. Cruella and Ursula, they had no children. Ingrid had clung to adopting children and drove Emma away with her darkness.
And on the other face of the coin… Snow had Emma, even after she'd been cursed not to bear a child, because the stars had aligned so she could after all. Everything worked for Snow's happy ending, for Emma, and little Neal. That thought was the final biting nail and Regina gave up any attempt to sleep. Sitting up, pushing the blankets aside, Regina grabbed her robe from the hook on the wall and pulled it on over her pyjamas.
She wandered down the kitchen, passing Henry's closed door. She was tempted to check in on him but she knew he was asleep and didn't want to take the chance she'd wake him. He'd always slept better than she did.
Unfortunately, the thought of Henry merely set off another round of self-recrimination, the silence of the house closing in on her like a tomb. A part of Regina knew this was foolish, that Henry was her son, and blood meant nothing when he smiled at her or hugged her. That she earned the right to be his mother through tears and dirty diapers, scraped knees and sunburns, through nightmares and birthday parties, through 'I found my real mom' and 'this is my home too!.' If it were daylight perhaps that would be enough, but the sun was long gone. The world and her heart were lonely at three am, and something about this – about finding she had, for lack of a better word, fathered a child, only to discover her lost – had torn the gnarled roots of her past and unleashed a torrent of regret where once there was only a tame stream. Doubt, guilt and self-loathing stirred in her blood and not even the warm light of her kitchen could chase it away.
Good had children. Good created life. Emma- Emma had Henry in the most dire of circumstances, and he was wonderful. Emma was good, so of course she'd had Henry. That made sense. Henry coming to Regina was a coincidence. A part of the curse, trying to be broken. She didn't deserve Henry. She never would have had him at all if Storybrooke hadn't needed him for the curse to be broken. It was all part of Rumplestiltskin's grand plan. Manipulation and plotting brought her Henry, and she'd been allowed to raise him. She couldn't have made him or carried him, as Emma had. She was too broken.
Regina's stomach ached, tightening itself into a knot beneath her chest. She put water in the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. She pulled down one of the next boxes of tea and dropped a bag into one of the mugs, mind barely on the task at hand. Instead, another litany of questions crowded her: Where was her child? Was she safe? Was she grown, like Emma? Was she dead?
At that, Regina shut her eyes, unable to face the horror. No. Whatever happened to the baby, she was not dead. What had her curse done to their child? Was she lost somewhere in Storybrooke? Hidden or trapped? There were secrets in the town even Regina didn't know, and finding them might be as difficult as finding the Author.
Lost in the darkness of the past and the uncertainty of the present, Regina startled when the kettle whistled, seemingly long before enough time should have passed. Pulling it off the heat, she drowned her teabag in boiling water and stared as the bottom of the water started to change colour. The peppermint leaves in the bag turned the water pale green, the colour creeping upwards in the water. The steam rose from the cup, reminding her of the rain on Mal's bare skin. She was always so warm.
Maleficent. So many memories, and many of them good even now. Regina remembered how it felt to have Mal curled against her. Leopold never held her, but Mal did. Some of the only bright moments in the Hell that had been her marriage had been in Mal's huge bed, the two of them in the middle, wrapped together, Mal's fingers on her skin soothing and tender. Wracking her memory, Regina tried to find details she had missed. Mal kept her emotions close, but towards the end of their time together she'd been softer, gentler; pulled inward somehow so she no longer cared for revenge.
Were the clues there and she'd just been too angry to see? That day in the snow, after Maleficent had taken her flying and then been sick, blaming the sheep she had eaten for being diseased. Regina remembered sitting beside her human form, plotting Show White's demise while Mal spat steaming ashes into the snow. She'd never seen her ill; Mal had a kind of invincible strength. Then, she'd blamed the farmers for poor quality animals, and had seemed her usual sardonic self, but she'd been happy underneath it. She'd been so happy being with Regina, even when Regina had nothing but hatred to share in return. Had Mal tried to tell her then? If she had, Regina had been too far gone to listen. Not even the rush of flight and the beautiful view from Mal's back could pull her from her anger. In those final days, Regina had very little of anything to spare for anyone other than herself.
Now, standing alone in her house in Storybrooke, Regina wondered if it could it have been different if she'd known. What would she have done? Left the kingdom in Snow White's hands and retreated to the forest with Mal and the baby? It was impossible to imagine, truly. Was that a path that she even had the option to take? Had the author determined what was going to happen to her already? Without the Dark Curse, Storybrooke wouldn't exist and….and Henry would never have been born. Maybe she and Mal could have been each other's happy ending in another story, but this tale had a dark plan of its own and for the part of it that had brought Regina her son, she could never regret, nor ever want to change.
The tea did nothing to soothe Regina's stomach and sighing, she dumped it out into the sink. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well do something useful. She took out things for Henry's lunch from the cupboard. She could put his lunch in the fridge and leave him some money for breakfast at Granny's. He'd probably meet Emma or his idiot grandparents. He'd be fine. It might have been cowardice but Regina wasn't ready to face him yet. She was too raw, her emotions too close to the surface and she would be unable to hold anything back from him. There was no way she would be able to explain this without breaking down, and she could never allow that in front of Henry.
She needed Emma. That realisation was like a single ray of light finding a crack in the clouds, brightening Regina's world just a little. Emma would know what to say. It was so much easier when she was with her.
The sun wasn't even grey on the horizon when Regina left her house for the office. She had dressed quickly, half dazed by her inability to sleep. She couldn't stand lying in her bed, and she wasn't sure what was going to be easier at the office, but she felt more in control there. Behind that desk she was Mayor, not mother, and Regina needed that refuge, at least for the moment, she could bury her emotions beneath numbers and spreadsheets so maybe she could stop wondering what would it be to have a child Emma's age walk into town. Maybe she could stop imagining what memories that woman would have or if her childhood would have been as awful as Emma's had been?
Once at the office, Regina tried to lose herself on the paperwork on her desk. Careful control of their trade with the outside world kept their supermarket stocked and their cars running. Maintaining inventory was dull work, but usually it calmed her thoughts and while the sun rose, she worked ahead on as much paperwork as she could. When she couldn't keep her eyes on the page in front of her, Regina drummed her fingers on the desk then pressed one hand into the centre of her forehead.
Unfortunately, keeping Storybrooke functioning could only distract her for so long.
Knowing she had avoided Mal long enough, Regina stood, took a deep breath and teleported into Maleficent's living room. A fire burned low on the dark stone, embers popping in the darkness. Mal wasn't in her chair, though it was pulled close to the hearth, suggesting she hadn't been gone long. Mal had never slept much, even in the best of moods, so she wouldn't be asleep now. Regina listened, but she heard no pacing feet. She paused at the foot of the stairs. That was too intimate, she couldn't go up.
"Still don't knock, do you?" Mal's voice came from behind her as she emerged from the kitchen. Her tone was rough and she made no effort to hide it. Regina didn't respond to the barbed question. One of the things she and Mal had always understood about each other; they lashed out when hurt.
"I needed to see you."
Mal merely brushed passed her, moving from the kitchen, heading for the fireplace. The taller woman looked – in a word – horrible. Instead of her normal wardrobe which had always rivalled Regina's own, Mal wore only a wrinkled silver robe over her nightgown, her hair falling loose onto her shoulders from unruly curls. Dark circles marred her face and her eyes were reddened.
"Here I am," she said. She was a wreck, but seemed to be sober. She hadn't been dabbling in curses again. That was something postitive.
"Are you-" Regina started, hardly sure what she wanted to ask. There was so much, too much for words.
Sinking into her chair with none of her usual predatory grace, Mal waved her quiet. "There's no point in your sympathy."
Regina's chest ached, worse than her stomach had knotted before. Her breath felt too tight. "I know. I'm still sorry."
"I know you are." The words escaped Mal like smoke, soft and all used up, as she wiped her tears on a tissue and tossed it into the flames where it began to burn, edges blackening. "You know, I was actually foolish enough to think that when the curse was broken, I'd see her again. I knew you'd made a mess of things, shuffled everyone's lives and identities, but I thought she'd be safe, somewhere up there. Some family would have her and when that fiendish, hideous Dark Curse was broken, I'd see her. I hung onto that for years in that cave. Then your saviour turned up with her father's sword and I thought finally, that would be the end. That hack of an Author had written my demise and at least I wouldn't have to miss her."
Regina knelt beside her, ignoring the ash on the stones. She dragged the box of tissues with her, wondering if it had appeared in Mal's house with everything else. It was hard to imagine Mal walking into the supermarket.
Mal wiped her face again but it was no use, her tears fell faster, as if released by Regina's presence. "But she wasn't there. Not in the space between life and death, not here in this cursed little town that you love so much: she's just gone. I wasn't ready for that. When Cruella and Ursula brought me back, I thought I'd feel her, know where she was, somehow, but I don't. I can't. She's just-" Maleficent trailed off, eyes glittering with tears staring sightlessly into flickering embers of the fire.
Regina sat silent. The words crowded her heart, the things she wanted to say all of it felt futile in the face of Mal's grief. For a long moment there was nothing, and then Mal shifted, something making a soft sound in the pocket of her robe and Regina's eyes stung with harsh tears. Mal pulled out a rattle made in the shape of a tiny, silver dragon's claw and turned it over in her hands. "How could she have escaped the curse? Why isn't she here? Why-" Mal asked questions like pleas, but Regina had no answers and even lost in her own agony, Mal seemed to understand. She wasn't asking Regina, not really. She was asking fate or the Author: all those great invisible hands who directed their lives that Regina had spent decades railing against. It had always gotten her nowhere.
Other than her brief, awkward friendship with Kathryn, Regina hadn't pulled anyone to her chest who wasn't a child. Snow and Henry had cried there when they were children, but she was no one's confidant. She never had been. Sharing this made sense, and Mal had no one closer. In a way, neither did Regina. Yet even with Mal wrapped in her arms, Regina kept thinking of Emma, and how Emma would know what to do. Emma would say the right things to comfort a mother whose child had vanished.
She wanted to apologise. To take all the responsibility for herself, but this, for once, wasn't her fault. Yes, she'd needed Maleficent's power, but that wouldn't have meant taking her child. Regina could have taken the baby herself if she'd known about her, or found her a home. The curse wouldn't have punished a baby, other than bringing her to Storybrooke and that didn't seem to be too much of a punishment now that there was magic. It was certainly cleaner and safer than the Enchanted Forest had ever been. As hard as it was to face, this pain wasn't something Regina could blame herself for. She was unaccustomed to that, but Mal didn't seem to want anything more than her presence. Regina wasn't sure what she could do, or how her being there was meant to help anyone, yet Maleficent clung to her, trusting her with her vulnerability.
Maybe Emma was right, Regina was different now. Maybe that meant she could be more than she was and perhaps she could help her old friend by being there for her and going through this with her. Regina didn't know what she was missing, but Mal's grief was so raw that it sucked her in like a maelstrom.
They cast the locator spell together just after daybreak, when Mal had cried herself out and Regina's head ached from her own tears. They wound a lock of Regina's deep black hair and one of Maleficent's gold together around the handle of the little rattle. They joined hands above it and the hair caught fire, the deep red and lavender flames raced upwards and formed a sphere of light. It hung there for a moment, threatening them both with hope, then it faded, shimmering away into nothing. It hadn't felt their daughter in Storybrooke.
"She's not here." What little hope she had left faded from Mal's face and her voice echoed that misery.
Regina touched her shoulder, wishing again that she could do something, anything. "That doesn't mean she's not out there."
"In the land without magic, where even the precious saviour's childhood was a hell of foster homes and life on the streets. Do you know what the streets are like out there? What she might have gone through? She could have died alone, out there, thinking no one loved her."
Regina started to apologise again but it died on her lips. If Mal's baby had been in the Enchanted Forest when the Dark Curse had been cast, then she'd be here. Even if she had died, her remains would have tripped the spell and they would have found her. Nearly all the realm had been pulled into the curse, save what Cora had been able to protect. Mal's daughter hadn't been there. "How could she have gotten out of the Enchanted Forest?"
Mal paced in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. "How did your saviour get to the outside world?" She asked the question with the kind of bitterness that suggested she knew the answer.
Regina sat down, because keeping step with Mal was exhausting. "Her parents sent her through a magical wardrobe that could only hold two. The Blue Fairy and Gepetto lied so it was Pinnochio and Emma who went, not Emma and her mother."
Mal nodded and kept walking. "What happened to it?"
"The wardrobe?" Regina asked. "It was destroyed in the Enchanted Forest. Snow and Emma used what was left of its ashes to transport themselves here."
"So it could be used more than once."
"The Blue Fairy told them-"
Mal hissed, turning from the fire with her teeth bare. "The fairies twist and manipulate the facts to keep their power. Don't you get it? Emma was not the first child to pass through that tree."
Regina's heart thudded in her chest. She reached for Mal's shoulders and caught her. "Snow and Charming sent your- our- daughter to the land without magic?"
Mal grabbed Regina's arms in return, digging her fingers in through Regina's shirt. Her grip stung and Regina clung to the pain. "The fairies had one of their prophecies. 'One to darkness, one to light, two shall pass beyond magic's sight.' They must have taken it literally. The first would be dark, and the second light. That sanctimonious little princess sent my baby to a hell dimension in Maine so hers could be good. How good does she think it is to kidnap a child from her cradle?"
Regina's throat closed up. "They took her from your castle?"
"They took her from her bed, Regina. They took her so-" Maleficent broke off, fighting free of Regina's grip and quivering with rage. "They took her and I haven't been able to close my eyes without hearing her screaming as they took her away."
"They saw her as the child of a villain," Regina realised. "They must have thought she'd be dark anyway-"
Maleficent continued to pace, the rattle clutched so tightly in her hand that it made no sound as she moved. "She was a baby. She could have been as dull as the shepherd prince, prophecies aren't worth the parchment they're scrawled on."
Regina's thoughts flew, trying to keep up. "But Pinnochio went through the wardrobe-"
"And the fairies lied about the magic. You know as well as I do that magic is unpredictable. The only constant-"
"Is the price," Regina finished. Her throat was nearly too tight to speak. Was it anger? Grief? Would she wake up tomorrow ready to annihilate the Charmings all over again? "They used our daughter to pay it."
Mal shut her eyes and tried to steady herself. For a moment, dragon scales rippled beneath her skin. The deep blackness gathered at her feet. She'd always had trouble staying in human form when she was furious. Reaching for her shoulders, Regina breathed with her, trying to help her calm.
"Snow wouldn't dare do something that-"
"Evil?" Mal asked. She shivered, as if her inner fire was faltering, or perhaps it was burning too hard, then wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to calm.
Looking at Mal's chest, Regina remembered the darkness staining Snow's heart like a bruise. Had it been there before Cora's death? Had it been growing within her since before the curse? Darkness could whisper for years, growing in shadows. She'd thought the pain of Cora's death was over, but it throbbed again, adding to the agony of her lost daughter.
"I thought Snow's heart became stained when she killed my mother," Regina said, trying to put her thoughts in order as she spoke. "My mother was dark, and cruel, but she didn't have her heart. If she'd had her heart back in her chest, she might have realised what she was doing, stopped chasing power."
Mal leaned against the fireplace, meeting Regina's eyes. "But Snow killed her."
Regina nodded, trying to keep the memory quiet so she could concentrate on the present. "She traded her life for Rumplestiltskin's."
"Poor trade," Mal muttered. She'd never been fond of the imp. "Taking a life that could be saved is an evil act, even if the life is-"
"Evil." Regina interrupted.
This time Mal touched her cheek to comfort Regina. "I was going to say excruciatingly ambitious and self-involved."
In spite of herself, she leaned into Mal's hand. It felt so good to be touched again. "So Snow-"
"Committed her second evil act when she took Cora's life." Mal finally sank into her chair, curling up with her knees close to her chest. "She is selfish, and that's what this second-rate storyteller punishes. He makes us suffer for the wrongs we do, the lives we take, but what he really relishes are our selfish acts. Those are the ones we truly suffer for."
"How do you know?" Regina had to wonder. Mal had never mentioned meeting the Author, but she was old, as old as the fairies and there were many things she never brought up.
"Please, the poorly literate, crudely plodding moron who scratched out the drivel we live in is as predictable as he is narratively inept." She toyed with the rattle again, shaking it slowly even though every sound it made seemed to slice at her. "The greatest wrong inflicted on Snow and Charming was the loss of their child. Their greatest pain, they exacted on another. I certainly am no innocent, but my child was. Our Author, however blundering, will make them pay for that." She took a deep, shuddering breath and met Regina's gaze. "I only need wait."
It was still her fault. If it hadn't been for the Dark Curse, the Charmings never would have needed the wardrobe, never would have tested the prophecy, and taken Maleficent's daughter. "I'm sorry that my desire for revenge led us here. If I had listened-"
Mal's lips curved into a smile, a real one. "You never listen to me."
Regina shook her head. "I Don't. I didn't. If I had-"
"Come here." Mal waved her over, then reached for her face with warm, gentle hands. "I know you never listened to me, and you should have. You know that I blame Rumplestiltskin for his plan, for moulding you into casting that terrible curse. You lost yourself for a long time, but I see you here. You're Regina again." Mal smoothed her hair back, resting her thumbs on Regina's cheeks. "It's good to see that."
Mal's lips were bare, and close, then so warm against Regina's. They always had been. She still tasted faintly of smoke when they kissed. For a moment, Regina was a world away, back before the curse, before Henry, before she lost herself. The dampness on Mal's face brushed against Regina's own. She leaned against her, almost hungrily, almost too close, and then they parted.
"The curse that brought us here is still far darker than you or I, but this place is good for you, Regina." Mal kissed her forehead, gently, and held her. "You have your son, and you have a home here."
"You can, too," Regina whispered. Mal could fit in here. She could be happy. There had to be a way to give her a happy ending. "Henry's looking for the Author, he can-"
"Of course, dear," Mal agreed. She pulled back, retreating towards her chair. "Do keep me apprised of your findings."
"And Emma's already looking-"
Mal nodded, but the deep sorrow was back in her expression, gnawing her from within. "I know." She sank into her thoughts, brooding over the fire. Regina knew better than to try and get anything more out of her in this state, and her thoughts already reeled. She touched Mal's shoulder once more, then teleported away.
Back in her office, Regina sat at her desk and didn't work. She scanned the blank books Henry had left out, then had to push them back before she marked any of them with her tears. She didn't know this child, but her absence cut deep. Regina kept thinking of Henry, of how hard it would be to live without him. She stood, brushed her hands across her dress, and reached for her coat. She'd get coffee and come back. Maybe it would be easier with something in her hands.
On her way out of the office, she nearly ran into Emma. She held two coffees in her hands and smiled. There was so much hope in that smile. Regina didn't know how she managed it; Emma's presence in her office was so very welcome at that moment.
"Hey, Henry said you didn't sleep much." Emma shrugged and guided Regina back into her office. "Thought you might need this."
Regina followed the coffee with her eyes, deeply grateful for Emma. "I didn't intend to wake him."
"You didn't," Emma insisted. She walked straight up to Regina's desk, setting down the coffee and a white bag that most certainly held something far too sugary. "He just said that you made his lunch early and you do that when you can't sleep."
Regina took the white paper cup of coffee and held it tight as she shut the door so they were alone. Emma sat on the edge of her desk, lazily comfortable even when Regina felt out of place. "He's getting far too observant for his own good."
"Maybe he'll grow up to be a detective," Emma said. She pulled Regina's black gloves out of her pocket and set them on the desk. "You left these."
Regina sipped her coffee, trying to let the familiar, bitter taste pull her back to the current reality. "Thanks."
"Guess what," Emma began, oddly cheerful.
"I abhor guessing games."
Emma rolled her eyes, and somehow that made Regina smile, as if she'd been waiting for her to come lift her burdens. "Look." Concentrating for a moment, Emma disappeared from existence, vanishing into white smoke.
She popped back a moment later, somewhat sheepishly right next to Regina. "Sorry."
"You can teleport?"
Emma returned to Regina's desk, sitting down and opening the white bakery bag. "Maleficent taught me."
Regina raised her eyebrows, and not just at the bear claw Emma pulled from the bag. "She did?"
"Yeah," Emma almost sounded surprised. "She started explaining it, and I thought I wasn't getting it at all, then I was in front of your house-"
"My house?" Regina interrupted. She tried not to smile, and failed, because Mal teaching Emma was something she really wanted to see.
"Yeah, I'm not very good at figuring out where I should be. I miss, but I tend to miss in one piece, so it's not all bad." Emma took a bite and sighed happily, probably from the sugar coma she was about to fall into. She chewed, swallowed, then continued. "I end up in front of your house a lot, actually, but I'm working on it."
Regina smiled before she knew what her lips were doing. "I'll keep an eye out for you."
Emma smiled again, so proud of herself. "I got you a bear claw, I know you probably don't want it, but sugar helps keep you awake and it kinda makes you feel better when you're miserable." Emma held out the bag and Regina reached for it.
"I'm not-"
Emma shrugged. "You know, it's okay to be miserable."
Regina sank against the desk, leaning next to Emma. "I'm not miserable- at least, I don't think so- it's not all-" she stopped because she wasn't making any sense as she babbled. "Part of me isn't miserable. I have a child. I mean, I have Henry, but-"
"That hasn't been the most comfortable relationship, has it? You've almost lost him, and sent him away to try and keep him safe. You're his mother, but you've had to fight for that." Emma's fingers reached for her arm, and even though they were probably sticky with glaze, Regina didn't pull away.
"It seems I'll have to fight for this child as well."
"Hey," Emma left the desk and turned in front of Regina, putting herself directly in her gaze. "We'll find her. I've already started looking, and we'll have Belle help, and my parents. We'll get her back."
Regina gulped her coffee, but she couldn't swallow. She almost choked, then forced herself to breathe.
"It's okay," Emma insisted. "It'll be okay. We'll find her." She lifted Regina's chin, drawing her eyes to her own. "Trust me. Finding people is kind of my thing."
Nodding was easier than speaking, so Regina stayed quiet. Emma's eyes were so full of hope and good intentions that it stung to look at her.
"Did you go see Maleficent?" Emma asked.
Regina bobbed her head, and shut her eyes long enough to be certain they weren't going to tear up again.
"Is she okay?"
Another nod, but Regina stopped and shrugged. "I don't know what she's going to do."
Emma dropped her hands to Regina's shoulders, as if realising how close they were. "She didn't seem like she wants to hurt anyone."
"She doesn't. She's not-" Regina stopped and sighed, sinking into familiar self-recrimination. "she's not like me."
"Hey, that's not you anymore, remember?" Emma's hands squeezed her shoulders, and her smile was so warm. "What can we do to help?"
"She'll retreat," Regina began. She didn't want to betray how destroyed Maleficent was, but she knew Emma wouldn't hurt her. She could be honest. "She won't be able to leave town, but Cruella and Ursula might. They'll probably help her try to find the child. You might want to talk to them. They can difficult, but they're close to her. They'll try to help."
Emma nodded and took a step back. She picked up her coffee again. "Okay, what are they like?"
"Sarcastic, self-involved, mostly harmless. Watch Cruella with animals, she can bend them to her will. Ursula has her tentacles, but she shouldn't have any issues with you. You haven't crossed paths with either of them before so as long as you can put up with their sarcasm, you'll be fine. They're probably both after their happy endings, and though I can't imagine what that would be for either of them, I doubt they mean any harm. Maleficent always kept them in line. They're nothing the Saviour shouldn't be able to handle."
Emma took another bite of her bear claw, then asked, "Do you have a past with them?"
Regina rolled her eyes this time. "You mean did we ride broomsticks around the Enchanted Forest, stealing children and puppies?"
Emma smirked around her pastry. She liked that idea. "Did you?"
Shaking her head, Regina tried to glare, but she couldn't. She did manage not to smile. "Of course not. Maleficent and I were close but I pushed her away to pursue my revenge. They were friends with her, still are. I think trying to resist my curse drove them together."
Emma accepted that and finished the last huge bite of her pastry. "So what are we going to call it?"
"Call what?"
"Operation Dragon Baby."
"Please," Regina said. She took another sip of her coffee. Giving the search a name almost made it too real.
"Henry will want to call it something."
Regina stared at her lipstick marks on the white plastic lid of her coffee cup. What was Henry going to think? "I don't know how to tell him."
"I thought we'd tell him together, if you want," Emma offered. "Might be easier if he had both parents reminding him that just because he has a half-sibling, we still love him."
This was such a strange conversation to have with Emma. Regina reached into the bag and the sticky-sweet bear claw was in her hand before she even thought about what she had done. She took a bite and chewed mechanically. Maybe the sugar would help keep her heart from racing.
"I still don't know how it happened."
Emma remained next to her, still patient. "How you got Maleficent pregnant or how two women in the Enchanted Forest would make a baby?"
"The latter's fairly simple between magical beings. When you have sex you're very open to the other person, vulnerable, and part of your essence can be exchanged. Forgive the crude metaphor, but if the seed is fertile and the field receptive, something can grow."
Emma smirked a little but her question was genuinely confused. "But how do you know who's what?"
Regina wished there was some book she could just thrust at Emma and not have to explain, but she didn't have anything. She hated not having the answers, but being irritated with Emma was always a different kind of frustration. Something she didn't yet understand. "Honestly, I'm not sure I understand it. Maleficent will be able to tell you, if you really must know the specifics."
"I don't," Emma said, flushing slightly pink. "I don't need to know." She feigned interest in her coffee cup, then drank. "I'm just curious."
Regina fought a smile. She would enjoy seeing that conversation. "You might want to phrase it better when you ask Maleficent. She can be a little touchy."
"I won't ask."
"I didn't say you couldn't ask, just perhaps you should try to employ more tact than usual."
Taking another sip of her coffee, Emma shrugged. "It's not like I was going to run up to her house and demand an explanation of magical fertility. I just, well, it's kind of cool, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure that's exactly the word."
Emma grinned, finally showing her excitement. "You made a baby, with a dragon, that's, well, that's almost more bizarre than anything in the book."
"She's not a dragon," Regina paused to correct herself, "well, not all the time."
"A part time dragon," Emma said, smirking. "Your ex is a part-time dragon."
"She's very-"
"Hot?" Emma was far too pleased with herself.
Regina took her bearclaw with her behind the desk and sat in her chair, putting space between her and Emma's grin. She was not going to dignify that with a response.
"What was it like?" Emma continued to prod.
"I can't believe even you would ask that."
"Not that," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes. "Did you fly together? Do magic? Was it like dating a pilot?"
Regina took a breathe to steady herself, then fought through her reluctance and answered that they'd flown together often. After that, Emma kept asking. Her questions were gentle, nothing too intimate or pressing, but she needed to know about Regina and Maleficent. To her surprise, Regina found it easy to talk. She said little about Leopold, because he was Emma's grandfather and there were things that she wouldn't say, but Emma understood why that was such a quiet subject. Regina finished her coffee and finally found words that shared how precious her time with Maleficent had been when her life had been so hopeless.
Emma sat across from her and listened, even when she'd run out of coffee and she didn't need to keep asking questions for Regina's memories to flow.
"How did it stop?" Emma asked, once Regina's stories had stopped.
"I wanted revenge and I let it consume me. The last time I saw her, I immobilised her and stole the Dark Curse. She didn't want me to cast it. Mal fought me, but I knew her weakness and exploited it." Regina sighed, dropping her hands to the desk. She stared at her fingers, then looked up at Emma. "I don't know if I would have stopped then if I knew. Even if she'd begged me not to cast the curse because of our baby, I would have ignored her, because I wanted my revenge."
"And you got it."
Regina looked up, waiting for recrimination to appear in Emma's face. Instead of that, Emma's hands grabbed her own and held hers tight.
"And it's over. Henry's okay. The town's safe. My mom and dad have the little guy and you, you're not the big bad evil queen any more," Emma reminded her. She squeezed Regina's hands, sharing her optimism. "In fact, I can't think of anything other than the Chernobog trying to kill us lately. We might even be okay for awhile."
Regina wondered if she should pull her hands back, but Emma hadn't let go. "Don't say that," Regina said. "You'll tempt fate."
Emma made a face but smiled, because she had to agree. "Or the Author, wherever he is."
Staring at their interlocked hands for a moment, Regina looked up at Emma's eyes. Emma never looked like she was going to retreat and she was so stubborn. Regina had hated that, before, when Emma wouldn't leave town. Now, she was grateful for it. She didn't know how to express her gratitude or whatever else she felt for Emma. That had always been so difficult for her and it was almost harder now because she didn't know what to call it. Emma made her life better, just standing in her presence. How could she say anything like that without sounding like an idiot?
Emma released her hands with a final squeeze. "Hey, cheer up, we'll find your daughter."
"Find her?" Regina repeated, trying to cling to Emma's hope. "How?"
"Finding people is what I do," Emma reminded her. She seemed so certain. How did she do that? Regina had never believed in anyone. She'd never had cause to believe anyone would help her. Mal was one of the few to be kind to her and all that had gotten her was pain. "It runs in the family." Emma's smile faded just a little, softening into concern. "Don't worry, okay?"
Emma's optimism, like her smile, was absolutely contagious and did something warm to the pit of her stomach that Regina wasn't sure she was ever going to understand.