A/N: I'm not fond of retconing, I'm sad to announce that this chapter might be seen as a retcon. Regina's infertility slots perfectly into my head canon, but because of how I've written the previous chapters, the premises have been slightly altered and I need to right this. Hopefully.

This is why I don't like to write stories while a certain plotline is unfurling, but rather write a complete story from A-Z.

Two weeks of crying herself to sleep, two weeks of dragging herself out of bed, living in a bubble of lack of sleep, lack of food and intense fatigue. He had left two weeks ago. She was left behind. She had told him to leave with his wife and son. And she was feeling like shit. Of course she was. She had done the right thing.

The getting up in the morning had become increasingly hard, and this morning was the worst yet. Somebody had certainly been steamrolling over her the entire night. There was no other possible explanation for feeling so battered. She tossed the duvet aside and rolled out of bed with a groan. What to wear? What kind of day was it?

Dressing according to her mood was and had always been essential to how she presented herself. If a day was shitty, you could bet your ass Madame Mayor or the Queen was dressed to kill, but the attire could be just as fierce when the mood was good, so in the end, it would be hard to spot the really bad days. Snappiness wasn't really a good indicator either.

She sighed as she rummaged through her dresser. This was indeed a shitty day just by waking up. She hadn't even needed to open her eyes to understand that. The only slack she could afford was comfortable lingerie. Something soft, preferably close to air. She picked out her only wireless bra and a matching pair of knickers. That would have to do. To cover up the informality she decided a black, knee length pencil skirt and a royal blue silk blouse would do the trick. Good.

She went to the bathroom, and as she closed the bathroom door she locked it. Her attire was put on a chair for later. Carefully, she undressed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit too. First of all, she suspected somebody had nicked some U-No-Poo from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and slipped in her drink.

The constipation sensation has certainly gripped this nation. She sniggered at her own joke. She could actually see the result of her constipation, as her normally flat stomach was taut as a small balloon all the way from her ribs down to her pelvis.

Well, how old am I really now? Sixty five – seventy? That is about when the oldies start to keep track on their faeces, isn't it? She prodded two fingers hard into the right side of her stomach, and could actually feel the trapped air move along her large intestine while it groaned in protest, along with her groaning and wincing as the whole thing hurt.

Grose! But it's fairly useful as a drum she mused as she started tapping a rhythm while taking a few dance steps. She looked up again, and halted the idiotic scene immediately. Seeing herself in the mirror, dancing naked and drumming her stomach was not something she intended to continue doing.

She went to carefully poke the side of her left breast with her forefinger and hissed. Too sore to manhandle like that. And her nipples were itching. She did, however, resist the urge to scratch, because that would certainly hurt like a bitch. She knew she had a lidocaine ointment somewhere, and made a mental note to add some to her itchy parts when she was done in the shower.

Secondly, her lack of sleep had not done anything to improve her ever cheery disposition, or the bags under her eyes. She glared at her reflection and eyed a newly formed pimple at the bottom of her lip. Queens should be flawless. Her fingers automatically shot up and scratched the surface of the little bugger and it popped and left a little drop of blood.

Thirdly, she had lost some weight, and if she didn't get her appetite back, the weight loss would probably continue for a while. Even she didn't think she needed to lose weight, so eating more regularly, no matter how bland the food tasted, was added to the to-do-list.

The fourth note on the imaginary list was how she was constantly feeling on edge. She was more prone to snapping than she had been for a very long time, and even when she was in the middle of a rage fit she would have to concentrate to keep the frustrated tears from glazing her eyes. And yet, there was a certain calmness that scared her more than the rage.

Honestly, she hadn't felt this kind of off for decades. But it couldn't be. It was absolutely impossible. She had seen to that.

She decided to leave her musings for later and stepped into the shower after a quick visit to the toilet where she could ascertain that there was still no blood in sight. The scolding water was incredibly soothing for her aching body and the noise of the waterfall equally soothing for her brain. The minty freshness of her body wash opened her airways, and she just hummed satisfied as the mint and tea tree oil tingled and did its wonders at the places her skin was thinnest. She took a deep breath before rinsing it off and lathering her hair. One thing was certain – she didn't miss the bathing arrangements of the Enchanted Forest! Most of the time, she would just enjoy being able to undress herself, check herself and wash herself, without any spectators. She could do it whenever she wanted, and nobody needed to know. She knew it was a stupid little thing, but that definitely was one of the perks of not being a queen. The constant surveillance, especially under Leopold's rule, was annoying at best, but most of the time way past intrusive.

She turned off the shower and squeezed the water out of her hair. Most of all she wanted to slip back to bed and skive off the whole damned day, just drying under the duvet and forget there was a world outside of the fluffiness and darkness of her room. But she couldn't. She was the mayor, and mayors go to work, even if the world is crumbling down.

Just follow the plan;
* wrap hair in towel
* towel dry body
* apply body lotion all over body, extra careful on boobs. Be sure to moisture them well on the side and partly under to avoid any dry skin whatsoever. Remember to apply lidocaine on nipples.
* put on underwear and stockings when properly dry
* blow dry hair
* apply basic makeup, deodorant and perfume
* complete dressing
* put the finishing touch on hair and makeup

The skirt was high waist and fixed just below her rib, and it allowed a bit of bloating, but she could feel it would still be a bit uncomfortable sitting down in it. She decided to walk to the office, in case that would get her system going. Otherwise happy with the result, she locked herself out of the bathroom and went back to her room to find shoes. She noted the 7:05 on her bedside table and decided she was enough ahead of schedule to prepare a decent breakfast before she needed to be at the office at 8:00. Henry spent his night at the loft, so she was pretty much free to spend the morning however she desired.

Looking into the fridge she couldn't find anything in there remotely tempting.
So much for a decent breakfast. She took out the milk and the apple juice, and went to get the oat meal and sugar. As she reached for the coffee, she decided to skip hot beverage that morning. Smacking her tongue, she opted for diluted apple juice rather than pure juice, and filled a jug of water.

Breakfast was gulped down within ten minutes, and she left the house at 7:20. The fresh breeze made her oddly satisfied, and she needed to keep herself from literary skipping down the street like a happy school girl. She slowed down as she came to the pharmacy. It was open, and she was very curious…

The bell over the door jingled as she entered, and the sneezy dwarf greeted her.
"What can I do for you, Madame Mayor?"

"Nothing" she said as she looked around. She was alone with the dwarf. Perfect! She waved a gloved hand in front of him, and he slowly fell to the floor.

Walking towards the aisle of Feminine hygiene she felt a knot tightening in her stomach, along with an overactive flock of butterflies that apparently had been let loose inside her ribs. Was she really doing this? She carefully looked around. Still nobody else there, but she couldn't afford to be interrupted. She went back to the front door, locked it and turned the sign so that it read Closed. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and headed back to the dreaded aisle. There were so many tests, and she had no freaking idea which one to choose. Maybe she should take one of each, in case one was faulty. They couldn't all be duds, could they? She grabbed one of each, a total of nine. Quickly she went behind the counter, found a calculator and worked out the sum before putting a rough estimate under the till, just a corner of the notes sticking out. She bagged the tests, went back to open the door and turn the sign, and returned in the right position for waking up the dwarf again. He opened his eyes and looked right into the concerned face of the Mayor.

Flustered he sat upright and felt his head.
"I'm sorry. I usually don't faint…do you need anything?"
Ever the salesman.

"I just popped in to see if you had multivitamins", she smiled and took a box from the shelf by the counter.

"That's all?" he asked.

"That's all."

"Well, good day to you, Madame Mayor!"

"Good day to you too!"

She left with a half-smile, feeling like a teenager smuggling condoms. And in a way, she sort of was. Only, she didn't remember to use condoms and needed to check if the bareback ride had left a spud.

The tests would surely burn a hole in her purse. She felt everybody eyed her with suspicion as she passed them on the street. Even people she never had talked to seemed to look at her in a new way, and some of them she didn't even recognize.

She informed her receptionist that she was not to be disturbed until noon. In case the girl didn't do as instructed and kept visitors outside, she moved over to the table at the side of her office. That way she wasn't the first thing an unwelcomed guest would see. She grabbed her purse and rummaged through it. Of all the places she kept things, her purse was the least organized, and she briefly wondered if it was possible to stack shelves and label them in there – kind of like Hermione had done with her beaded bag. I've got to stop these Harry Potter references! She scolded herself. And yet, they kept popping up. She must have read the whole series least five times for Henry, and she had probably enjoyed them even more than him.

Nine tests. Some were the same brand, but to be taken either in stream or in a urine sample. Usually she went to the bathroom two times during a work day; one right before lunch, and one just before she left. Six test were "in stream", and three needed sample. If she used the same sample for two tests, and put one in the stream each time, she could get five results before dinner. I'm scheduling my peeing. Pull yourself together Regina. It's probably your mind fucking you up. Or your body. You can't be pregnant. Stupid girl!

Even her own scolding had her welling up. If she indeed was pregnant, she would do all in her power to make it this time. It would actually mean the world to her. But if she wasn't, something was definitely not right with her body, and she needed to sort it out anyway. Her hands were shaking slightly, and her mouth was dry. The instructions claimed that morning urine was best, but no way was she waiting a whole day to find out. God, she didn't even know how she would be able to wait until lunch!

She started to put the test back in her purse, and as if on cue, the doors to her office blew open and the sheriff burst in. She hastened her moves, and shoved them all in the purse, and put it quickly under the table. Totally inconspicuous.

"What was that? Are you hiding something?"

"Just my porn. Why are you bursting into my office when I clearly instructed my receptionist to keep everybody out of here until noon?"
Her heart was racing and the knot in her stomach was tight, but she was still annoyed by the intrusion and it clearly showed.

Emma just lifted an eyebrow and looked for more signs of whatever she was looking for.
"Yeah, well. No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you were doing back in the mayoral seat."

"You certainly don't know your place miss Swan. I have more important things to do than to sit here and chat with you. Don't you have a doughnut to eat or a coffee to drink, or whatever you spend the time at the station doing?"

Emma laughed.
"It's been rather quiet since the Ice Queens left, and the noise at the station is unbearable at the moment. They're fixing my hole."

Regina rolled her eyes and went back to the desk and rummaged through the drawer to find the notes for the budget.

"Well, find someplace else to sooth your ears. I'm busy for the rest of the day, so you'd better be off and sheriff the town. Bye."
She logged in on her computer and hoped a busy look would get the sheriff out of her hair, but no such luck, apparently.

"We'd like to have you for dinner tonight at the loft. At 6. Be there?"

She sighed and looked up.
"I'll be there. But you lot better not serve me tripe or any other disgusting of the offal description."

Emma laughed again.
"Not a chance. I think some kind of white fish is on the menu. See you later!"

And then she left. Finally. Regina felt her shoulders drop and she leaned back in her chair breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. No need to stress. Only half an hour till lunch now. Did she feel a bit like peeing? She prodded her bladder, and the need to pee increased. Actually, the need became so urgent that she got out of her chair and ran to the purse to grab three tests before hopping a bit up and down to be able to walk calmly to the toilet.

The first test she opened was one that needed a sample. It came with a cup, and she decided that she probably should sample first and "stream" later. That was, if she could control it. She couldn't remember ever having taken a urine sample, and was all of a sudden not sure if she would be able to aim, or stop the flow in time. It couldn't be that difficult, could it?

It was not difficult after all, but it was not her favourite task either. She didn't really know if she had missed or not, because the sample was hot to the touch, but as she put the cup on a wad of paper on the floor she could see it was totally dry on the outside and her fingers were dry too. She unwrapped the other sample stick, and dipped them both for the right amount of seconds before she put them on a separate wad of paper and went to open the third one. She put it under the stream, and put that one too along with the other two.

And then she had to wait. Agonizingly long minutes. She wanted so badly to be pregnant that she didn't know how to get through the rest of the workday if she wasn't.

Two minutes left. Two minutes of believing I'm actually growing a person. Two minutes of wishful thinking. Two minutes until my dream turns into the bland grey that is the backdrop of my life. Grey like a communist uniform, but with stars bursting through like I'm sitting inside a steel colander. I don't need another baby. I have the child I've always wanted. Maybe this is all a stupid scare and for the best anyway.

*Beep-beep-beep*

The alarm on her phone ripped her out of her partly derailing train of thoughts. Her hands were clammy, and she dried them on the skirt pooling around her knees. She had been sitting on the toilet for more than ten minutes! Nobody had knocked on the door yet. Did she want to look? She wasn't sure. The bliss of not knowing was tempting, but oh, she needed to know! She leaned forward and glanced down at the sticks by her feet. Two stripes. Two plus-signs.

At first she couldn't breathe, but then she was able to draw a shuddering breath and her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably as she fought to keep in a sob that threatened to burst from her. This was not possible! She couldn't get pregnant. The potion... Could there be another explanation? Was she really going to be a mother again? Or would this one leave her like the other three? She couldn't even think about it. Her hands hovered above her stomach, not really daring to touch it with the tenderness and anticipation she felt in every fiber of her body. At least it was an easy task to determine date of conception; there was only the time in her vault. But how? Was the sperm of a soulmate equipped with magic strong enough to break the curse?

She wrapped up the tests and put them back in their boxes and wrapped another sheet around all three packages before returning to her office.

The rest of the workday went by in a haze and she was sure she had done nothing of significance that day, but somehow all she could think about was a potential spud in her dysfunctional baby parts.

Most of all she wanted to be able to tell Robin, but that was out of the question. Actually, she didn't know anybody else she wanted to tell at this stage. There were too many elements of uncertainty to let anything slip yet. And even three tests could be faulty.

Back home she knew she had a few baby books she bought when she was planning to adopt. Granted, most of them concentrated on the baby's first year, but there was this one; one she had hardly opened because it was mainly about the journey from conception to birth. It just seemed like a book to buy along with the others, but she always felt the sting in her heart when she flipped through it and in the end she just put it away. No matter how unwillingly she wedded and bedded the king, she had not once not wanted her babies.

She knew she did the right thing when she drank the potion. Her mother would have used any offspring of hers to take power and probably killed her in the process, no matter how much she had insisted that her only concern was Regina's happiness. She didn't regret the action, but the pain of her loss had never quite died. It had been dulled throughout the years, and honestly, she had never met a man she deemed fit for fathering her children after Daniel died, so it was more the notion that she couldn't even if she wanted that pained her. She had effectively closed a door.

And now that door had a faint shine through the keyhole and around the edges, as if hope was seeping out of it. That was the scariest part, the hope that everything would turn out okay. She was sure other bad thoughts would come and take over as her pregnancy proceeded. Her defences were severely lowered just by the natural mellowing pregnancy always brought her, and she was more vulnerable than she cared to admit.

Every child she had engaged in had at one point or other left her. True, she didn't go the right way about neither Hansel and Gretel nor Owen, but Henry, Henry she loved with her whole being, she would let her life before his feet and in the end, she was still really scared that he forever would rate her second best. She always had the nagging feeling that if she didn't perform at her best he would always slip back to his real mom. She knew he loved her, but he would always have the choice to go to someone else. And quite frankly, who wouldn't leave the Evil Queen if they had the chance?

Drying her tears and checking her reflection in the mirror, she packed up an hour early and went home. The rest of the tests could wait until she was in the safety of her own house, with nobody barging in unannounced or in desperate need of her particular toilet cubical. And she could cry all she wanted without bothering anybody. She needed to empty herself of tears and fears and happiness before dinner if she intended to keep this a secret until it was too obvious to hide. Or, if she was more realistic, for as long as it took her body to expel the life from her and let it go unnoticed by everyone but her.

As she reached her front door she locked herself in and headed straight to the bathroom. Six more tests to go, and she would try and pee on five of them, as well as leaving a sample. To her great surprise, that was an easy task, and she found herself pacing the bathroom as she waited for the results. Five more minutes. She would have time to get that pregnancy book from her study before the alarm sounded. And she did. As the alarm went off, she was back in the bathroom figuring out her due date and current week of pregnancy. If conception had occurred three weeks ago, she was in her fifth week of pregnancy, and had approximately 35 weeks left.

She put the book aside and went over to the sink to look at the tests. Four positive, two negative. Oh God! Am I not pregnant after all? Her throat constricted again, and she welled up for the umpteenth time that day. Hastily wiping her eyes she tossed the tests in the bin and went to her bedroom where she undressed and buried herself under the duvet. She did not intend to get up until 5. She would be able to get in shape and be at the loft in time in an hour. At the moment she only wanted to cry and sleep.

But, she reasoned, 7 out of 9 were positive. That's like 80 % chance of pregnancy. And my body is 100 % certain. Until something definitely tells me I'm not pregnant, I'm treating myself as if I am. Like now. Sleep.

She closed her eyes and mind, and went to sleep.

Two hours later she was knocking at the un-Charming's door, ready for anything. The door opened, and a relieved Snow handed her baby Neal almost before she had passed the threshold.
"Hang your coat over there, and if it's okay you can entertain him until dinner is served?"

Of course she could! She smiled and nodded as she and the little boy headed for the sofa. Keeping an infant happy and entertained was after all one of her fortes. She did really get the hang of it after that initial stressful first period with Henry. Most people probably never thought about her as the maternal type, or anything but a fierce leader, but that was not how she had started out. Snow knew her mothering side, Henry knew, but as she cast a glance at the gang bustling around the kitchen, she could see that neither unCharming, the Saviour or the pirate fully trusted her to not kill the little tyke in her lap. It actually stung, and she returned her focus to the boy as her hand was suddenly covered in drool. She resisted the urge to immediately dry it off on the sofa, and instead she stood up and walked over to the crib to fetch a cloth.

"Is this how you handled me?"

She turned around and saw Henry eyeing her with a curious expression and felt a broad grin spreading across her face.

"Not exactly, but in the principle, yes. You were mine, so I could smother you and pepper you with kisses all I wanted."

He scrunched up his nose in teenager disgust, but couldn't conceal the half-embarrassed smile she loved so much.

"It seems so natural when you handle him. I always feel like I'm doing something wrong, as if I'm going to drop him if he makes an unexpected move or when he tenses up to let out one of those ear-splitting wails of his."

"Well, you were, apart from my perfect little prince, also the first baby I ever handled. And to be frank, it took a bit getting used to, and you weren't pleased until I was good and properly relaxed. Babies are pretty much like horses in that way. If you tense up, they tense up, and nothing productive will ever come out of it. But the reward is always worth the effort you put into it. Just look at yourself. I'm so proud of you that I don't know how to express myself."

He reddened a bit and hugged her before he jumped away in disgust as his uncle spit up on him.

"Yeah, I think that's also a thing you two have in common. I got pretty good at keeping my shoulders covered in cloths at almost all time." She giggled and wiped Neal's mouth and hand before replacing the cloth with a clean one. He started to whimper and she suspected it was time for his nap. Snow came to fetch him, and she handed him over to his mother who effectively put him to bed.

Dinner was served shortly thereafter, and they were actually having a good time all of them together. The white fish she was promised turned out to be lemon-caper baked cod and she was happily surprised that the dish not only agreed with her, but seemed to have just the right taste to make it a dish fit for a queen. She hadn't eaten that much for weeks, and gladly asked for second helping.

By 9:30 she was knackered, and had to excuse herself. She needed her beauty sleep, she claimed, and said a hearty goodbye. Henry went home with her, and all was right in the world again.

Back home, Henry went to bed without protests and was well tucked in by 10. She yawned and stretched before turning in herself.

The day had turned out far better than she expected that morning, and for the road ahead, she would have to take one step at a time. For the time being, she would just enjoy being pregnant. In time she would reveal it to the rest of the world, when she was sure that nothing, or no one, would harm her spud. Not her, not anybody else.

She decided to start a nightly ritual of talking to the little thing. No harm in that? Her hands were gently caressing her stomach as she started to talk, voice barely above a whisper in the dark.
"You know, little one, I'm your mother, and I'm not letting you go so easy. And even if you leave me, you'll always be my child. I don't know whether or not you'll ever know your father, but I'm really trying to get him back to us sometime in the foreseeable future. For the time being, it's just you and me. I'll inform your brother a bit later, when you have decided to stay with us. Love you. Good night, Spud!"

She smiled and kept tracing patterns below her bellybutton. Yes, she would be happy as long as she could. After all, she needed to take advantage of the great heights to cope during the ultimate lows she was sure to encounter in the weeks to come.