Regina
The Sheriff's station was old; the pipes creaked. It was cold and not in the sleek, minimalist way Regina preferred. She looked up and noted that the ceiling tiles were stained from water damage. Her town was aging. She flitted through the piles of paperwork: permits and eviction notices. Maybe this was enough stimulation for Ms. Swan's smaller mind, but not for Regina. The quiet was maddening, and Regina wished she had her music. What she wouldn't give for some Pitbull right about now.
She should be at that meeting where her fate could be at stake. Instead, she was trusting Emma with her legacy. Regina rifled through the desk drawers, and paused when she saw Emma's gun and badge. She pulled out the gun, and examined it. It was heavier than she imagined, colder still. She held it up, pointing it toward the empty jail cells. She hated the stillness and control needed in wielding a gun. It went directly against her magic training, which was all flourish and flick. She sighed and placed the gun on the desk, sitting it next to the Sheriff's badge. What if this role was hers permanently? She knew that she wouldn't be putting up with this office décor if she was stuck here. She'd have to call Drizila and get it updated. Regina twirled absently back and forth in the chair. She tried to think of more ways to switch back, but without her magic to draw upon, her mind was blank. Maybe she was actually becoming Emma?
She grabbed an annoying stray piece of thread off of Emma's ratty shirt, yanking it until it broke. It wasn't just the shirt, Regina decided with a sneer; Emma's skin felt ratty and unnerving. She didn't notice it so much when she was active, but just sitting here alone- well, alone with Emma's body, felt like trying to constantly write with your non-dominant hand.
This wouldn't do. Regina needed to treat herself. She reached into Emma's pocket and produced her debit card. Regina lightly ran her finger over the raised letters of Emma's name on the front of the plastic. There was only one thing that would make her feel better: shopping.
Emma
When Emma got to Regina's office, her secretary told her in a timid fashion that the meeting had been postponed until later. Emma dragged her feet and sulked all the way into the office and sat down heavily in the chair. She twirled around and waited.
An hour into staring out Regina's big stupid window, Emma decided to play around with the stuff in Regina's desk. There were paperclips of different colors which, if laced together properly, could make a big gay rainbow design. There were also paperclip holders that she could throw the big rainbow at. If she stuck the whole thing in a big twirl, then she awarded herself ten points. She never did that. So instead, she measured off distances on the floor and awarded herself points based on how far she could hit the magnetic container with individual paperclips.
Then she found something funny on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. Some interior design company: 'Woodland Creations and Modern Design'.
Huh.
Emma decided to call them and fuck around even more with Regina's office.
Twenty minutes later, a frantic woman in a dark purple dress was in front of Emma, looking seriously terrified.
"Beanbags?" The woman squeaked. Her name was Drizila. It sounded oddly familiar to Emma but she couldn't place it.
Regina
Regina burst through the doors of 'Ezanika' like she always did, and began to peruse the suits and blouses on the mannequins. The effect was instantly calming; she rolled the silky fabrics through her fingers.
"Is there a problem, Sheriff?" Rafael, the boutique owner, asked with a bit of an attitude.
"Hello, Rafael. Show me the designer jeans, please." Rafael was her favorite and usually he was warm and friendly to Regina (probably due to her high credit limit), but from the way he addressed the Sheriff he was clearly snubbing her. Regina didn't like the feeling. This was her territory and she deserved respect.
He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow, probably wondering how she knew his name. He stared her down for a moment before turning on his heel and heading toward the back of the store.
"Applebottoms?" Regina was fascinated she had never bought a pair of jeans before. If she was going to pass as Emma she may as well do it with flair.
"Sweet to the core and picked fresh daily. What size?" Rafael looked her over with a look of utter boredom and disinterest.
"Four," Regina replied automatically. Oh, but…that was her size; Emma might be different- her hips were wider than Regina's. What did it matter if they were too tight, really? Emma never seemed to wear her proper size anyway.
"Ahem, I'll grab a six too… just in case," Rafael smirked and led Regina to the dressing room.
After picking out four pairs of size six jeans, a new gray suede leather jacket with stylish black buttons, six new Michael Kors blouses and a new pair of leather boots, Rafael totaled her purchase. She happily handed over Emma's debit card.
"Declined," Rafael announced as he crossed his arms and pursed his lips sourly.
The embarrassment Regina felt was incomparable, "What do mean 'declined'?"
"As in there is not enough money in your account to complete the transaction: declined!," Rafael was flat out giving her attitude. Regina felt her cheeks burn. Figures.
Regina mustered up her pride, "Just ring up one pair of jeans, the jacket, the cobalt blue blouse and the boots. See if that goes through."
Rafael continued to look at her as he blindly punched the keys on the register, "Approved…barely."
Regina plucked the card back from his hand, turned up her nose and took her bag of clothes before turning and walking briskly from the store. It was almost time to pick up Henry from school. That would lift her spirits.
Emma
"Yes, beanbags," Emma reiterated. "Red leather beanbags. My son will like them." She walked to the far corner of the room and traced a finger over the wallpaper. Woodland Creations Indeed. "I would also like one of those twisty slides, so that we no longer have to walk down the stairs if we don't want to, and I want a high boardwalk or bridge-like structure, so that when I walk from my office, I can float above the rest of the workers here. However, hanging from this bridge, will be monkey bars we can all exercise upon. Also, order me one of those swim spas. But make it fun. And purple. I'd like it to be filled with purple lights."
Drizila wrote it all down dutifully, but Emma was sure she looked on the verge of fainting. Or crying.
So Emma cancelled the bridge and the boardwalk but still demanded the swim spa. She also asked that a wall be taken out, so that she could have her swim in the next office that nobody used anyway.
She called Drizila twenty minutes after the woman left, and asked for a sauna as well. To be installed next to the spa.
Regina
Regina circled the school three times in Emma's bug, before deciding to park and wait outside. What would Henry think if he knew that she wasn't his Emma? What if he could tell? She rocked back and forth on Emma's boots, and patted an impatient rhythm out on her stomach. She looked down and a thought so odd and satisfying overwhelmed her.
She was Henry's mother. She currently inhabited the body that had nurtured her son from conception to birth. She imagined how it must have felt to carry him, and feel him kick inside. She focused on the feelings in Emma's body. Any physical evidence of her pregnancy had long since disappeared, but she felt a new sense of connection with Henry.
Regina was always reminding Emma that blood relations meant nothing, and simply birthing him didn't make him his true mother, but sometimes she said it only to convince herself.
There would always be a connection between Henry and Emma, one Regina had never been privy to. Until now.
Regina was so caught up in thought, tears slipping from her eyes without realizing, that she missed the sound of the bell.
The force of Henry's open and gob smacking hug almost knocked her over.
"Emma!"
He squealed her name with such joy; his eyes open and giving. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to demand to know why his affection was reserved for Emma and Emma only.
She couldn't bring herself to say one word; she was so caught up in the feel of his hug, and the loving smile on his face trained toward her. She soaked up the affection like a sponge.
Emma
Emma prepped for her meeting with Albert—no, King George, right—by downing her coffee in three gulps, making another, drinking it even faster, and then pacing around Regina's office for another twenty minutes.
Her secretary poked into the office with five minutes to go and shooed her into the boardroom. As a result, Emma was seated and waiting, her hands clasped and one eyebrow arched as two—not one—men came walking into the room.
"I took the liberty of inviting …" King George didn't even look at her when he started to introduce the man Emma knew to be Belle's father.
"The florist." Emma interrupted. "Yes, I'm familiar with his arrangements." She actually didn't mind the guy, after helping to keep him safe from 'Mr. Gold'. She couldn't remember what to call him though. Shit. She'd forgotten what was in Regina's notes.
"Cut the shit, your majesty." Belle's father was not as nice now that he didn't spend his days thinking only about pretty flowers. His angry retort was cut short when King George placed a calming hand on his arm.
King George turned to Emma with a smile, fanning a pile of identical pages in front of him and handing Emma one copy. "We merely require the protections we once had. Armed guards and the like. I would suggest," he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming, "that you yourself take similar precautions my fair Cousin."
Emma smiled demurely, "Now why do you think I need further protection?" If these jerkasses continued to call each other 'Cousin' like this, she might have to request the return of her gun from Regina. Or, she might order Regina to shoot 'Cousin George' on the fucking spot.
"Time will tell," was his reply.
Trying not to twitch, Emma waited a second and added, "Time…will tell, won't it?" She was fucking this up, but it was fun to mess with these guys.
"Yes it will," Belle's father said, leaning forward.
"Oh, I'm sure it will," Emma replied quickly, digging her fingers into her leg to keep from laughing.
"Are you playing with us, Cousin?" King George looked suspicious. "Need I remind you, we were on the verge of unifying a Kingdom against your rule? Surely you would lend us some respect, given that we have supported your reign thus far."
Emma had what she needed, so she smiled and sat back again. The words 'thus far' and 'Need I remind you' gave away the obvious. These assholes didn't respect Regina's authority, and it wasn't just because they were pissed about the big bad Curse. "Of course. I'll simply need a bit more time to convince our local Sheriff that such permits will not in any way harm the safety of Storybrooke's residents."
"Our Sheriff is a fool, and she'll be the first to fall when the Charming's are destroyed." King George flipped his tie aside as she leaned back in his chair.
Emma was quiet. She started to say, "Surely you don't…"
But Belle's father interrupted, looking worriedly between the king and queen. "No harm will come to your boy, of course."
King George gave him the side-eye at that statement. "Of course." He drawled, repeating the now confused looking man.
Emma suddenly wished that her gun was by her side. She stared hard at George and added, "Until Henry comes of age, I'm sure."
They stared at each other while the idiot florist stared at the table.
"You don't object to our plans, do you?" King George asked her sweetly. "You do know that we need to protect our boundaries. Your boy will, no doubt, respect them as well. Emma Swan, on the other hand, is already dangerous."
Already dangerous. Implying that Henry would be a threat down the line and therefore a liability.
"No, of course not. Where Emma Swan is concerned, I have no interest in…" Emma's voice broke, but she covered it by sipping her water. "I have no interest in her safety," she finished weakly.
The two men broke into laughter. Emma stared at them.
"You care for her, I knew it. You've grown weak, dear Cousin, but I understand," King George sighed melodramatically. "These peasants grow on us, don't they?"
"Well, she is technically royalty and not a peasant at all," Maurice—Emma just remembered his damn name—looked kindly at Regina. Jesus these people were bizarre. "Besides, she is the birth mother of your son. Surely you have some compassion for her plight."
"I've long suspected such a thing to be the case," King George winked at Emma and gathered up his papers. "Fine, we'll stay away from the Sheriff. For now. In the meantime, work on her to get these permits passed quickly. One month, Cousin. With all due respect, of course."
"Of course," Emma replied waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the doors.
She sat alone in the boardroom for a long time after the men had left. She had to warn Regina that these men were no friends of hers, and they were certainly not going to make life easy for Henry. Those assholes had something up their sleeves, and it went beyond some stupid permits. Another part of her worried for her own damned sake. What if Regina had actually been here? Would Emma's life be in danger? Or had they been fishing, knowing that Regina would nix any plan to harm Emma? Did Regina actually care about Emma, or did she just have other games to play, bigger fish to fry.
Regina
"Um…Emma, you better take me home; you know mom gets upset if I'm not there right after school?" Henry was eating a sandwich that Regina had made him in Snow's kitchen; she couldn't stop smiling.
"Yes, I don't care. Do you want ice cream?" Regina asked sweetly. She was enjoying Henry's presence and that he was actually speaking to her for a change.
"I'd rather read my new comic book. Do you want to read one with me?" Henry was excited or the prospect. Henry hadn't asked Regina to read to him in over a year. The memory instantly brought up the pain of rejection.
"Yes…that sounds nice," Regina managed to answer without her voice cracking. Henry plodded off to the little hideaway he had at Snows. Regina followed, not bothering to clean up the kitchen. Emma wouldn't.
"Once I get to live here with you, we can do this all the time," Henry bounced up on the bed in the room that was decorated for him. Regina bit back a gasp as a flash flood of anger filled her. Henry looked so damned excited.
"Well, that probably won't happen for a very long time," Regina wanted to shoot down the ridiculous notion and tell him it would never happen, but he looked like he wanted it so badly. She couldn't blow her cover now. Not when she was on the verge of finding out Emma's plan.