AN: I'm obviously a master of changing my mind. This one, I'm blaming on the writers of Once Upon A Time. I'm not happy about the curve-ball they threw Regina, and my only way to cope is to continue my therapy through writing.

I'm reopening this story, just to add another one-shot. This is a collection of one-shots revolving around Zelena's meatloaf and Regina's thoughts. And spud.

I'm still just writing my headcanon, and I'm trying to fill in the parts that clearly lacks in the show.

"Do you want to tell her? Or should I?"
Zelena smiled! Right in her face. He wouldn't leave her in New York, for some mad reason or other.

When she spoke, her voice was far more insecure than she would have liked.
"Tell me what?"
Please, not that. Please! I don't need that too. Please!

Nobody said anything, the suspense filled the room, and she was getting that cold water pumping through her veins again.

"Robin?"
She was almost pleading now, both voice and eyes.

His face was pained, apologetic, before he answered.
"She's pregnant."

God no! It can't be! Please, get me out of this nightmare!

She had really hoped it was her overactive imagination, her wicked sister and a massive lie. And here they were, in New York, a hellhole on earth, ripping apart her future. Rescuing a man she desperately loved and needed, who after all apparently didn't want to be rescued. He wanted to stay true to his word and his damned spawn in her sister's belly. And she herself was tossed away like a forgotten toy. God, it could not be happening!

"Well, this went down like a lead balloon in a tea cosy!" Zelena laughed while stroking her stomach in a sickeningly familiar manner.

The accent! It must be the accent. He loves her accent. It feels like home.
Her voice rang clear in her head, desperate for a good explanation, and failing miserably at that.
Oh Regina, you're starting to think nonsense. Get yourself together. You're a queen. Act it!
She wasn't sure if it was Regina the Queen or Cora knocking sense into her, but she gladly grabbed the mental lifebuoy the scolding provided. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She schooled her face into stern mayor mode, and she was quite certain she had regained full control of her voice.

"So, if that is the current situation, I'd better leave you two to play happy family. And by the way, how are you going to explain this sudden change of appearance to Roland?"

That was not exactly a speech from a unfazed soul, but for the time being, it was the best she could come up with. She didn't wait for an answer and turned on her heel. She needed to get out of there, and quickly, before her cover was blown.

Nobody followed her. Good. Maybe she could get away fast enough to find somewhere to break down alone and hidden. Her heels sounded loud and rhythmic as she descended the stairs as fast as she could go without breaking into a run.

Out on the street, she took a few deep breaths before striding purposefully towards the more crowded street a couple of blocks down. She needed to blend in fast to get away unseen. Following the current of pedestrians, she was on a constant lookout for a place to hide. Preferably somewhere secluded, like a narrow bridge, alleyway or a stairwell, or even a quiet brown pub with only drunkards who never would recognize her was welcome. She needed to sit down. Her head was swimming, and the feeling of not knowing whether or not she was feeling sick was gone. She was properly unwell.

A bit ahead to the left, she could spot a narrow alleyway, and slipped in as soon as she reached it. The noises of the city had almost cancelled out her thoughts screaming at her when she was on the sidewalk, but in here it was more distant, like background noise.

She had broken out in a cold sweat as soon as she stopped moving and her insides were in an uproar. She could hear herself repeatedly swallowing heavily, and the sudden gush of saliva in her mouth meant only one thing.

Looking desperately around, she turned to a conveniently positioned trash can and pulled off the lid. The pungent smell of rotting food and other obscure substances was a more effective emetic than a finger down her throat or any food disagreeing with her she had encountered so far, and she added her own foul odour to the content within seconds.

If at first you don't succeed, then try, and try again!

At least that was the way her stomach seemed to think. It simply didn't get empty enough with one go. After the first bout of regurgitating, she had leaned heavily against the brick wall and tried to get ahead again, but without warning, she was being violently sick again.

One time.
That is sickening to look at!

Two times.
I should close my eyes! That would help.

Three.
Nothing but clear acid.

Four.
The acid has a green tint. Just like my bloody pregnant sister!

Five.
Green. Close your eyes, Regina! For Christ's sake! You are going to turn yourself inside out if you don't stop!

She willed herself not to think and closed her eyes and nose, just to get rid of the smell and reduce the whole taste experience to a minimum. There would be no more gagging today!

God, it was disgusting! And painful. She didn't want to remember the last time she had been this sick. The mere thought of it made her feel the bile rising again.

Breathing heavily, she thought of other things; watermelon, cucumber, red, delicious apples, water.

The thought of watery food actually helped. The stomach settled somehow. She wiped her mouth and stood straight up. Time to get the Queen back! The disgusting remnants of her stomach content were running down the side of the bin. She was not even able to aim properly!

First things first; she needed to clean herself up. Reeking of vomit was not very queen like. The lid on one of the other bins was slightly dented, and a puddle of water had formed. She quickly washed the worst of her hands and shook her hands semi dry before stepping out on the street again.

She headed for the café they passed on the way to the apartment. She was hungry, thirsty and filthy, and bone tired! Wash first, chair next.

Luckily, the toilets were open for all customers, so she didn't have to ask for a key. She would rather not breathe on anybody right now.

The running hot water was soothing on her hands, and she meticulously washed every bit of them, cleaning her nails and just letting the skin turn red and soft. Scooping up handfuls of tepid water, she rinsed and gurgled until she was rid of the taste of sour acid and bitter bile. She carefully washed her face and touched up her make-up before she had a proper look in the mirror.

Her face was a bit fuller than usual, and her dress was on the snug side over her chest. Other than that, nothing was really visible. If she didn't know her signs so well, she could have been fooled into believing she was just not feeling too good. After all, she didn't get enough sleep or food, and the con she had been playing with the Queens of Darkness and the Dark One would have taken its toll no matter what state she was in.

She sighed and scratched her stomach. How on earth did she always get tangled up in mess such as this? She was on the verge of crying again, but one look in the mirror and her mask was back in an instant, ready to face the world.

She sat down at a table at the very back of the café, eyeing the few other guests. They were all stuffing down hamburgers and fries, and the mere thought of the stuff made her slightly nauseated again. She ordered a kale salad with a minimum of oil and without dressing, extra bread and a bottle of water. This was not the day for greasy, heavy stuff.

While she waited for her meal, she studied her fingernails and started to sort out her thoughts. Things didn't add up. Not at all.

She had been so damned happy when Robin chose her back by the lake. She couldn't believe it then, but he was so intense, so sincere, that she actually did believe in him and in a happy ending. And then Marian had gone cold on them again. Or had she? Was that another one of Zelena's tricks?

The Robin she knew would never do this to her! Or to himself, for that matter. Yes, he was a damned thief bound by his morals and ethics, and those things had held him from her when Marian first arrived in Storybrooke, but he also threw that away the night he chose her in the vault. He came to her, no matter how hard she tried to stay away from him, to make him fall back in love with Marian to save her. He was good and properly heartbroken when they said goodbye by the town line and she was sure he poured his soul in their last, wonderful kiss. He had desperately wanted to stay… That was her Robin. Not this...thing...that chose to stay in New York. Not stay with his wife, but with her sister. Who he by chance had impregnated sometime along the last nine weeks.

She furiously opened the water bottle and poured herself a glass. The salad arrived shortly after, and she attacked it with the same ferociousness. Her stomach was piping rather than growling by then, and needed immediately filling unless she wanted to get sick again.

After a few bites, she could feel her blood sugar rise, and relaxed a bit. That was when her phone decided to ring. She took it out of her pocket, and buzzed off. She was not ready to be found. Not even by the Saviour, who probably had the anti-Saviour in tow. The peace and quiet of the café was too soothing, and she was able to hear herself think again. Maybe she even got her stupid thoughts sorted out so that she had a real plan.

At the moment all she really could feel was being gutted, strung up by her arms and paraded through the streets on a wagon, with all the inhabitants wearing the faces of Robin and Zelena. They would mock her, kiss each other, play with Roland, make love…

What a fucked up mind she was equipped with!

Without warning her mask faltered, and hot tears streamed down her face. She couldn't stop picking at her cuticles, even though her hands were perfectly manicured and without a flaw. Anything to keep her occupied. She knew her crying face. It was not pretty. Desperately trying to pull herself together without succeding, she dived under the table to adjust the laces on her lace free boots.

"Regina?!"

The Saviour's voice rang through the café, and Regina automatically shot up, head colliding marvellously with the table. The pain was instant, blinding, crippling, and her teeth crashed together, biting into the side of her tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and if she didn't cry before, she sure did now. She just stayed in her down position while sobs wrecked her body, and bent sideways to get up and not collide with the table again when she felt an arm draping itself over her back. She crossed her arms on the table and continued to cry into the crook of her arm. The hand on her back kept rubbing soothing circles, and not a word was said for a couple of minutes.

"You are a marvel at escaping, even without magic. You know that?"

Regina snorted, as she drew in snot in a highly un-royal manner.
"Nobody but my mother would be able to trace me if I really tried to escape."
And that damned thief, she added to herself.

"Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom", she said as she suddenly got up. The Saviour followed close by, not wanting to lose her again.

As she washed her face again (it would soon dry up if she didn't add any moisture!), and inspected her tongue, she could see Emma carelessly slumped against the wall with her arms and legs crossed.

"You know you should have told him?"

"Told him?"
She put her tongue back in. The bleeding had stopped, and she was testing it gingerly against her teeth. The swelling would cause another biting incident if she wasn't careful.

"Yea, you know…" Emma said with a nod in the direction of her stomach.

"That's not an issue any more. It's not a reason for him to come back. If he can't choose me over his dead wife, or my sister, he doesn't get either of us!"
Her voice was laced with venom it had lacked for years, and even she herself was a bit surprised by it.

She went on to inspect the back of her head with her hands. A bump had started to form, but there was no blood. Thank God! Her hair would mask any swelling or bruising.

"But what I don't get," she continued in a softer voice, "is that he doesn't seem like the man who left Storybrooke. I don't know what's different, but through and through, he came back to me in the end. Even when we both were together with Marian. Or Zelena, to be more accurate. I don't get it! It's like a missing piece of a puzzle. Or a slightly off puzzle piece in a complete picture. I'm so confused, sad, angry, tired. I don't know what to do!"
She sighed and leaned on the sink.

"On one hand, I want nothing to do with the bastard, but on the other hand, I crave him like oxygen. How could he?! And with my sister? He fucked my sister repeatedly, for Christ's sake!" She almost screamed as she ran a hand through her hair.

This was a nightmare. She was living a badly written soap opera where the writers really had it in for her. And that was it! She could clearly hear the voice of that evil scientist Gru screaming Lightbulb!

"The author! He's in league with mr. Gold! Could he have written Zelena pregnant? Or Robin totally out of character? " She was grasping at straws, she knew that, but oh! If only.

Emma looked like she thought it over.
"You are the magic expert. Does it work like that?"

"I don't know! I just want Robin back and this whole Zelena-thing erased! Erased from history, from memory!"

And another horrible thought struck her. If the author could write a pregnancy, could he also delete one? She looked herself in the mirror again, and thought of her previous musings over her symptoms. 12 weeks pregnant – a 10 weeks old foetus growing. Or was it? Had it been erased? How would she ever know?

She stared wide-eyed and scared at Emma.

"Could he have erased my baby?"

She cradled her middle and prayed that it was not so. She didn't know if she would recover if that was the fact. Maybe that was the way her sister had meant to finally destroy her?
But nobody knew about her pregnancy. Apart from Henry, and apparently the equally observant Saviour. She had kept it a secret not only because she feared miscarriage, but also because she really didn't trust Rumplestiltskin longer than his nose.

It might still be a secret she had managed to keep.

"I don't know..." Emma looked sceptical. "Do you feel pregnant still?"

"Yeah. I do. It just doesn't show very much. But I feel it, both the funny pressure in the pelvic region and all the other things. I'm just so terrified of loosing this one too!"

She bit her tongue again as she understood what she had said, and cursed under her breath. Both because she momentarily had forgotten about her already bitten tongue, and because of her sudden revelation.

"This one too? You have Henry, you know!"

"Yes I have."

"But?"
The nosey brat of the blabbering brat wasn't letting this one go.

"But all the others I've pushed away permanently. And absolutely not on purpose. The fact that your mother is an only child wasn't for lack of trying. Or conceiving. It's just the finishing part I'm not particularly good at." She glanced at herself in the mirror again, but was too perturbed by the image that she had to look somewhere else. The soap dispenser, for instance. Good choice.

"Wow. Really?"

"That's your best answer? Yes really!"
She was peeved, and quite frankly, she felt the need to run again, but she needed to stop this conversation from getting outside these walls.

"And don't you dare peep a word of this to anyone! Not now, not ever! And I'll know if you have blabbed!"

"Cross my heart!" Emma piped up, as she straightened up and crossed her heart.

"Now, where is this Spawn of the Dragon? You didn't let her lose, did you?"

Emma shook her head.
"I left her with Robin. He promised to look after her."

Regina groaned.
"Yes. That would be the sensible thing to do, wouldn't it? Let's go. I need to find the author to righten this mess. And we're bringing the lot back to Storybrooke!"