Chapter Text
Regina wakes up with a start. She’s on Henry-niño’s bed, dishevelled and sad, but she’s also not alone. A glance at the window, it’s the middle of the night. She gets up with a shiver, feeling her magic sparkling to life, shyly.
That’s back, even if it is all that is back. She’s not sure if it’s a good thing, but she will be able to defend herself when the mob comes. Or early intruders.
She’s down the stairs without a sound. She eyes her study, but that’s not where her uninvited guest is. She focuses her mind to find the soft thrusting around of particles of air, and then she rubs them faster together. It’s like riding a horse. She’s slightly slower but it will do.
When she enters the living room, she has a small but steady fireball in the center of her hand.
“Ah, Regina.” Her magic recognizes her guest as Maleficent, but the woman in front of her does not resemble the Maleficent she knew. “Oh, silly child, put that away.”
And, like that, the fireball, small and steady in the center of her hand, vanishes.
She inflames another one.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I said put it away.”
And the fireball is extinguished once again. The lamps lighten the room instead.
“You were always so stubborn.” Maleficent’s face is a sophisticated mix of amusement and annoyance.
“What do you want?” Regina has no time for pleasantries, and she’s very much done being scolded like a little girl. Last time she had a showdown with Maleficent, she won. Twice.
“Funny,” Maleficent says, “I’ve had twenty-nine years to decide on your punishment, or whether you actually need one. It seems you have done a great job at hurting yourself on your own.”
Maleficent sits, the ruby red sheet of an uncommon fabric rustles as it envelops her. She has horns, pronounced and sharp cheekbones, very long brown hair, and eyes of a color so strange and beautiful that Regina can’t quite pinpoint. Nor can she reconcile this woman with the blonde, curly-haired, cheap-looking witch she had forcefully taken a Dark Curse from so many years ago.
So many years ago. Had she been so misled on who or what this woman is?
“I lost my son.” Regina rises to the bait, not caring that’s she’s being goaded. Nothing matters anymore. “I lost everything.”
“Hmm,” the musing sound is almost mischievous, “it seems what you are in need of, child, is a new beginning.”
Some things about Maleficent might not have changed after all, like assuming she knows the secret to her thoughts, and speaking in riddles.
“You’ve been a dragon for the last twenty-nine years, what would you know of my life?”
“Oh, I have been a dragon for much longer than that. Did you think that silly curse could force me to stay put? I’ll grant you that it has made shifting a lot more taxing on my personal reserves since there isn’t much magic in this realm. And the choices of form haven’t been plentiful either. And the boredom… I know you understand what I mean. Really, Regina? Repeating the same days over and over again, guileless dolls without any idea of who they are? I see the appeal for a day or two, maybe a month or so. But, three decades? Rumple played you as much as the others.
“Mind you, I did warn you. But you never listen. I should have known.”
“I created my own prison with the others by casting his Dark Curse, which is what he wanted all along. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Well, that’s the spirit. But it wasn’t all that bad, was it? You found the little one.”
Regina tears her eyes from Maleficent to one of the portraits of Henry resting on a table. Her house, so pristine and orderly. A place for each thing, each thing in its place. It’s suffocating now, so much Regina wants to send it all flying, crashing into the walls.
“Whatever it is you came here for, get on with it.”
She’s angry. She’s heartbroken. The Curse, Miss Swan, Snow White, none of that matters. She almost killed Henry. She had wanted Emma Swan gone so badly. She was so desperately convinced that she would take Henry away that she gave him to her on a silver platter.
Or in a Tupperware box.
“Yes, I suppose. If you’re not ready now, I don’t know when.” Maleficent sighs. She seems tired suddenly, weary. She pats the sofa next to her. “Sit, child.”
Regina feels her feet take her to the sofa to sit next to Maleficent. That’s not how things go. She can’t be made to sit down. It’s not constrictive, more that she feels like sitting down now that Maleficent has suggested it. She tries not to. She fails.
“H…How?”
“You were always so rash and impulsive, you did not pause to really look at me. I have never been who you thought me to be, darling one. I will tell you some day, but not today.”
“What will happen today?” She’s not winning today. Not against this Maleficent. She should be scared. Somehow, she only feels relieved.
Maybe today is the end.
“Today is about your new beginning, weren’t you listening?” Maleficent turns to smile at her. It’s a smile full of sass on her lips but full of care, maybe, in those eyes she can’t still define.
“They will kill me, if you don’t.” There’s no doubt about that. They will try.
“The humans? Oh.” Maleficent continues to smile and Regina isn’t so sure anymore. “I won’t allow it. But you do need to go about things another way, I’d say.” Maleficent cocks her head to the right, and she couldn’t look more magical than she does now. “Yes, another way,” Maleficent muses, gaze introspective as if she’s looking at the universe.
Regina looks and stares really, into the eyes she can’t define. She feels heavy and tired and languid.
“Sleep now.” Regina feels her eyes close, nothing matters but the melodic voice of Maleficent, telling her, “you’ll see it’s not that awful,” telling her, “as soon as you listen and you are ready, you will undo it yourself and be all the more happy for it afterward.” Maleficent’s fingers are warm on her temple, but light threading through her hair.
“Think of it more as a blessing than a curse.”
That is the worst riddle ever. Regina can barely hang on to consciousness. She wants to understand now. She wants—
—to bang her head against a fucking wall.
Her head hurts. Her mind is foggy yet everything is just louder, sharper, quicker, and really she has the worst hangover she’s ever had. And, in this past year, she’s had a few. Miss Swan has not been good for her nerves.
Regina yawns, it’s a long and needed yawn which calls for a gratifying stretch. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. It’s comfortable enough, but nothing like her bed or the leather couch in her study. She’s slept on that one numerous times, it’s much better.
Maleficent is gone, although whether for better or worse, she’s undecided.
Regina needs coffee. Her heels are still on the floor, but really there’s no need for them so early. She will make herself a triple shot this morning, very foamy. The idea of heating half-and-half to make the wet, unctuous foam with the steam nozzle is delectable. She enjoys her own almost as much as the to-go cup Miss Lucas prepares for her on weekdays.
That’s more than likely over now. Forever. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have to take the werewolves Grandmother and Granddaughter out first. The Widow Lucas is not known for her patience. Regina would be loath to have to. She has, after all, invested a lot in the girl’s future.
She tries to chase away the unwelcome thought. She will deal with whatever they throw at her after coffee and a good shower. At least the breaking of the Curse didn’t take them all back to the Land. Thank God.
The floors are not as clean as she likes them. She can see traces from the parlor to the front door. She pays Judith good wages to clean the house. She’s never known her to do a poor job in the twenty-nine years the woman has been in her employ, or the town’s. Even when Henry-niño was just a toddler and he made a mess of every single thing he could get his hands on. That, too, might be gone.
Regina pauses to look at herself in the mirror while she wonders if she has any chance at—
She’s a cat.
A black, mid-length hair, golden eyed, of average height and build, cat.
A cat. A pet. A small mammal.
Not even fierce or special. Regal, yes, well groomed, but still a normal-looking cat. Nothing that could indicate who she truly is.
Fuck, is what she wants to say. “Pffff” is what comes out of her mouth.
She has a mouth with a very pink tongue, pointy and sharp teeth, long canines which are made for hunting rodents, birds and whatever else it is cats eat.
And whiskers. The longest, sleekest, shiniest, black and oh-so-sensitive whiskers.
There is so much going on with her whiskers. She listens and feels the air, the vibrations. She can tell where dust is collecting, that they have ants going from the pantry, and that the milkman didn’t deliver this morning. There is no need to open the front door.
How is she going to open things? Or speak? Or have anyone know who she is?
She needs to eat. To figure out what Maleficent did to her. That’s what she needs to do. Find Maleficent. And eat. What if? Regina closes her eyes, grateful she doesn’t have to look at herself in the shape of a cat for a little while, and searches. She tries to focus, to breathe.
Nothing. Not even a fickle little hum of anything.
She has no magic.
Well, fuck. “Pfff” is again what comes out.
She knows it’s going to be useless, but she has to try. She focuses on saying her own name.
“Meooowrrr.”
Precisely.
At least she’s not one of these cats who can’t meow. She can always use tone inflections in her meowing. If she finds anyone to listen. Who would help her now?
Regina opens her eyes again, facing the mirror. She tries to understand how her body functions. Walking, she finds, comes pretty naturally. The tail is weightless. It moves a lot without her thinking about it, but, if she commands it, it does what she wants. She finds that her tail helps her balance. Especially when she tries to stand on her hind legs.
That isn’t as complicated as she might have anticipated. She then tries to use her paws to touch herself like cats do. Behind the ears, on the side of the nuzzle, grabbing her tail. She’s very limber. She walks over to the front of the parlor. Against the wall, there’s a console table, and two small chests or benches. Henry-niño used to sit on them when he was little, when he was learning to put his shoes on, and later on to tie his shoelaces. They contain various shoe polishes,brushes and other utensils to care for their footwear.
Regina leans back on her hind legs and then propels herself in a jump. She hovers over the first chest when she actually meant to jump onto it. She also lands pretty easily. She’s not just limber, she’s powerful and shock absorbent. It feels like she could do much more in this body than in her human one. Especially when she did not have her magic to enhance her capacities.
She tries again with much less propelling strength, and lands on the chest gently. She looks up to the console table and does the same thing, adding more momentum to her jump. It works.
After that, she prowls. She fixes a point all the way toward the kitchen and wills herself forward into a run. That’s really when her tail comes in handy. She jumps the few stairs up from the front parlor to the back of the house where the kitchen is, and slows down when she’s on top the stairs so as not to…
… collide with the first lower kitchen cabinet by the door.
So she does need to be more precise on the momentum control. Nothing insurmountable. Other than that, she’s got this ‘being a cat’ inconvenience under control.
She gets herself back up. She might be limber, fast and elastic, but she’s not invincible. Kitchen cabinets hurt.
That’s when she realizes, licking her sore side, that she has no hands. She has paws. What good will it do her to get high enough to a door handle if she can’t work the handle itself?
Regina approaches the back door. Forget the handle, it’s the lock that she can’t work. For the handle, she can use both paws and the weight of her body. How is she going to get out of the house?
She needs a plan.
She didn’t much care for her safety when she left the hospital. Maybe she’d left a window or a door open somewhere around the house.
Regina follows the stairs up, she tries all the rooms she can manage. After a few painful attempts at closed doors, she figures out how to effectively lower door handles with the weight of her body. It requires a good amount of acrobatics. And bruises.
Her window is cracked open for air. Regina thinks about it. Dying as a cat isn’t what she thought would happen to her. The question isn’t so much about wanting to live or die. She has to live. She won’t abandon Henry. He is her son, even if he doesn’t want her. Magic isn’t dormant in this world anymore. It has been awakened and, at the very least, Henry needs protection.
He’s certainly not going to get it from Snow White and the likes of her.
She takes a few careful steps on the window sill, arches under the edge and through the barely sufficient crack of her window. She’s never appreciated that the second floor of the mansion is quite high up. Enough that, if she falls now, she might break her neck, despite the saying about cats always landing on their paws. Or having nine lives.
She walks the ledge, then onto the roofing. She instinctively leverages the mechanics of her retractable front and hind claws. She’s slow and careful but she’s determined. She needs to find a way down, now that she’s found a way out.
The plan is simple. Get out. Find Henry. If she manages that, she’ll think about the next step. It’s working out the details which might be slightly more complicated. Like getting down from the midsection of the roof of her house. She doesn’t feel like going higher at all. Even if the roof is flatter there.
The gutter, she finds tentatively, but at least it is leveled and seems to hold her weight. She’s glad she’s not a chubby cat. Apparently, it’s mostly the hair that makes her breed look fluffy. There are tree branches, and drainage pipes around the edges. Maybe she can find purchase there.
She forgets about the pipes as soon as she reaches one. They’re smooth surfaces. No purchase for a cat, or a human, really—except possibly for a ninja or a spy from one of Henry-niño’s comic books.
On the side of the house, Regina knows she’ll find one of her older maple trees with the large trunk and high, long branches she’s always so loath to get pruned every few years. Marco usually does it because he likes to keep the wood to carve. It’s almost summer, and she won’t call Marco until fall.
There’s still a good leap to take. She’ll need some impetus and to angle herself properly. Regina walks back from where she came. She has no idea if the gutter will support her running. All she knows is that she’ll have to run as fast she can, find the side wall of the house and then jump as far as she can from there to reach the branch leaning toward her. She’s only going to have one try.
Regina prowls, her behind dancing. She focuses all her silent momentum on the one point of the wall from which she’ll jump. Run, bounce, leap, claws out, grip: that’s what she must do. She gives herself a moment to think of Henry, waking up so small and half-naked, looking at her with tears in his eyes. Happy to be alive, heartbroken to have been betrayed by the one person he should know he can always go to.
Regina runs as fast as she can. She bounces to the one point of the wall to angle herself properly. When her paws make contact, as fast as lightning, she pushes off the wall with all her might, leaping as far as she can. She glides in a flying curve for an infinite second of total abandonment to the physicality of her body. Her claws are out, her eyes open. She grabs the branch.
It works. She’s in the tree. She’s too fast. She will rip her fingers if she’s not careful. She can’t stop and she stumbles, clawing, hitting, falling but grasping. She hears herself meow, but then the wind is knocked out of her lungs as she hits the trunk hard on her way down.
She tastes copper in her mouth, and her head hurts. Maybe she’s not falling anymore. Regina tries to get up, but she can’t. Everything hurts.
For a second time in less than a day, she loses consciousness.
Whatever is happening to her, it’s not exactly comfortable. She’s in something wet but warm. There’s pressure and that hurts. She’s kind of dangling as well. She’s hoping she’s not about to fall off a branch and that the warm liquid isn’t her blood.
She’s in pain, her head is pounding. At least the pain means she’s alive and she can still feel things, including her four legs and tail.
She’s still a cat.
She tries to open her eyes. It’s bright through her closed lids. She breathes, but it smells like dog. She opens her eyes and immediately regrets it.
Regina is in Pongo’s mouth.
At least he doesn’t seem inclined to eat her. The dalmatian is transporting her, maybe? He’s trotting along a sidewalk to God knows where. His jaw’s not keeping her secured too tightly in his mouth and his tongue is pressed against her belly. Regina’s head is bobbing along like a stupid Hawaiian hula dancer figurine from an eighties dashboard. It’ll be a miracle if her brain doesn’t turn to mush after this.
It hurts too much to keep her eyes open. She surrenders to the rhythm of his pace and loses consciousness once more.
When she wakes up again, it’s to the strident cries of seagulls, the sea air strong in her nostrils. They’re not immediately on the beach, but they are in a place she knows, Henry-niño’s fort. The playground she had destroyed in hopes of finding his book and confirming the prophecy about Emma Swan.
What is Pongo doing there? Is he planning on burying her under the ruins?
Only it’s not in ruins anymore. The fort. She had been holding on to that thought with Henry’s pillow the night before last. The night he almost died. She has no idea how much time has gone by since she went down the tree. Maybe a day. Surely Miss Swan wouldn’t allow him out of the intensive care unit, or her sight for that matter.
If he did not suffer any injuries, Henry should not stay cooped up in a hospital room. His being released and getting some gentle exercise could be the healthy thing to do.
But Henry-niño is sitting where he always does, on his fort, with his book in his lap. He’s not in school. It’s very possible the townspeople have chosen not to resume their everyday lives from this world now that they remember their original identities. But, who wouldn’t want their child to receive this world’s education?
Pongo makes a beeline for Henry. Regina doesn’t have the strength to look around for who is with him. There must be someone with him. Pongo stops, sits on his hind legs, and has the gentleness to not drop her directly onto the ground. He barks at Henry a couple of times, and that is enough to make her feel like she’s going to be sick.
“Hey, Pongo,” Henry greets the dalmatian.
Oh, how sweet his voice is. He’s alive. He’s Henry and he’s alive. Good dog. What a good dog. This dog understands humans much more than they know. And cats. And little boys.
“I don’t really feel like playing today.” He closes the book on his lap and then carefully climbs down the side ladder of the fort. He usually likes to try and jump into the sand. He must have been told to be cautious.
“What do you have, Pongo?” He’s kneeling beside her.
Pongo barks once more and licks Regina’s ear, nudging her head toward Henry. It hurts. She lets out the smallest of meows, she can’t help it.
“It’s hurt.” Henry seems to hesitate, but he touches her. He’s very careful. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’m going to get you help.” He pets the top of her head and that hurts too, but she can’t help the overwhelming joy she feels at being with him again.
Her soft purr rumbles in her chest and throat. It’s a strange sensation. It hurts a little, too. He takes off his light jacket and carefully drapes it over her. Pongo is sniffing it as she is.
“I’m gonna lift you up now, kitty. Don’t be scared, okay?” She could cry at how good, just so good, he is. His jacket smells like him, and their laundry detergent lingers in it, too. She has her face by the collar which smells of his shampoo and she’s forgetting how much everything hurts in her body just now. Until he picks her up, that’s really uncomfortable. She thinks she might cry out, but she only purrs against his chest. She has her ear to his heart. It beats strong and fast. She could wonder where he’s taking her, but she’s with him, that’s what matters.
“Mrs. Nolan!” Henry doesn’t run, and he’s careful.
“Henry, what’s wrong?” Kathryn is sitting on a bench not far from the fort itself. Regina didn’t expect her to be watching over Henry.
“Where’s Emma? Pongo brought me a kitty.” He walks up to show Kathryn what he has in his arms. She gently unfolds the top of his jacket. “I think it’s hurt,” he says gravely.
“I think you’re right. Emma went to get drinks and snacks, she was worried you would get thirsty or hungry while we talked. She should be back soon.”
Regina feels Kathryn’s probing fingers touch her, it makes her whine and purr louder.
“You’re hurting it.” He takes a step back from Kathryn.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think the kitty needs to see a vet.” Kathryn takes her phone out, Regina watches her dial and then put the phone to her ear. “Emma.”
Regina hears Emma asking if they’re all right.
“Yes, we’re fine. But Henry found a cat who seems to be injured and I think that it needs medical help. Do you think if I take them to the animal shelter, you can find Dr. Arturo and get him there?” She waits a little longer. “Yes, maybe your father knows, I haven’t seen it open much since the curse broke. We’ll meet you there.”
She doesn’t hear what else Kathryn says, but it seems they’re trying to get her help. She wants to tell them she will be all right, maybe she’s only bruised and there’s no need to make such a fuss.
Henry-niño is holding her to his chest and he’s talking to her while he follows Kathryn to her car.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you help and then you’ll be okay.”
It’s sweet and she would be relieved if it wasn’t for the idea of being taken from him to be entrusted to David Nolan. Or Emma Swan.
“I’m going to let you sit in the front, and then I’ll put the seatbelt over you,” Kathryn says. “You think you can hold the kitty a bit longer while I drive?”
“Yes, what about Pongo?”
“We might as well take him back with us, too. We can call Archie from the shelter.” She folds back the driver’s seat of her convertible. “Come on Pongo, you’ve been running away long enough.”
Pongo barks once and sits behind Henry, who has settled on the front seat. Pongo puts his nose on Henry’s shoulder, close to her head. She can smell him again.
“I’m going to fasten your seatbelt.” Kathryn leans over them from Henry’s side now, and then a click is heard. “Okay. I’m closing the door now, Henry. Careful, all right?”
“Okay.” Henry tightens a little at the sound of the closing door but they’re soon ready to go.
Kathryn drives slowly enough, but Regina does not like the car trip at all. Pongo keeps touching her nose with his. It’s wet, and she wants to sneeze. Henry is petting her gently, though. That alone is worth all the pain in the world.
They arrive at what Regina guesses to be the animal shelter. She’s keeping her eyes closed now, she doesn’t want to see anyone. She won’t be in Henry’s arms for long and she wants to savor the last moments.
“You okay, kid?” Regina recognizes Emma Swan’s voice.
“Yeah, but the kitty isn’t. You found Dr. Arturo?”
“Yeah, he was at a farm on a call, he’ll be back any minute. And Archie is coming by to pick up Pongo.”
“Emma, Henry,” Archie greets them as he closes the door of the animal shelter behind him. “Uhm, Princess Abigail,” Regina hears him stuttering. She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know he’s also blushing hard.
“Kathryn Nolan is a good name, Dr. Hopper, if you don’t mind.” She can also hear the polite smile in Kathryn’s voice. At least she knows where Kathryn stands.
“Not at all, I actually like Archie better, too.” Who wouldn’t? Being a cricket isn’t exactly fun. “I hope Pongo didn’t give you too much trouble, Sheriff. I’ve stopped trying to figure out how he gets out of my apartment and my office so easily.
He’s a smart dog, Regina decides. And he’s probably more than a simple dog. She hopes suddenly that Pongo isn’t an actual person stuck as a dalmatian. Like her. That would be awful. He’s been Pongo for many, many years.
“He brought me an injured cat,” Henry says. “I wonder how he knew to find me, or where he found it.”
“Oh, believe me, I wish more than anyone that he could speak.” Archie chuckles.
Still tucked into Henry chest, Regina can hear some rustling, and then is startled. Pongo is barking and, from what she can now see, fighting his leash, pulling hard against Archie to stay by Henry’s side. He even growls.
Could he know who she is? He’s always liked her. She’s loath to admit it, but she actually likes the obnoxious dalmatian just as much.
“Come now, Pongo,” Dr. Arturo addresses the dog as he walks in followed by David and Snow White. “Be a good fellow and go home with Archie. We’ll take good care of your little friend.” Pongo paws at him and Arturo pets him on the head with a warm smile.
The man is old and tanned, with the biggest calloused hands she’s ever seen. He hasn’t changed a bit, either. He was her man, taking care of her stables and other animals. Even the wolves the huntsman favored so much.
Regina loves animals, but Arturo might love them more. He was in charge of the stables at the estate she grew up on in Basurto. He trained Daniel. Many more, she’s sure. She had found him again—after she had killed the White King—training horses as always, tending to all the lost and hurt creatures of the Enchanted Forest. He only wanted to be able to keep doing that, and she had encouraged him.
The curse had not altered Arturo’s love, or made his life harder on him. She can remember more than once appreciating his presence in Storybrooke as one of the good occurrences of the Dark Curse.
Snow’s presence, however, is just about enough to make her recoil in Henry-niño’s jacket and hide against his heart all the more.
Archie and Pongo make their exit, but Arturo now has his eyes set on her.
“So, young man, what have you got here?”
“An injured cat.”
“Well then, why don’t you follow me to the exam room, and we can determine what’s going on with your friend?” Arturo puts a hand on Henry’s shoulder and pretends to ignore her. He’s good. “I think just you, me and your Grandfather ought to do the trick. The poor thing probably had enough agitation for one day.”
Regina is slightly relieved. At least she’s not going to be manipulated all over, under the scrutiny of the entire Charming clan. She doesn’t like David all that much, but he’s always better than Snow. He also knows his way with animals, she can give him that.
She would roll her eyes if her head didn’t feel like it’s about to explode.
“All right, Henry,” Arturo says. “Put it down very gently on the table.”
She’s on her paws, but still leaning into Henry. The table is cold and she feels wobbly. Arturo’s big hands gently probe at her. She lets him until he squeezes her chest, making her hiss.
“Tranquila, tranquila,” he soothes, then flashes a light in her eyes. “You need an x-ray, I’m afraid.”
“What should I do?” Henry asks.
“Well, she seems to like you, so why don’t you pick her up again for the x-ray?” Arturo puts Henry’s hands on her. “Just make sure not to squeeze her chest and middle section, yes?”
“Okay.” Henry doesn’t hesitate much and he picks her up against his chest again.
They go through the other door in the exam room, preceded by David who turns on the light and starts the computer operating the machinery.
“Put her on the table, Henry,” David says. “What do you want, doc?”
“I want a full body scan and a zoom on the chest, then we’ll do the head,” Arturo answers.
David prepares what looks like a mechanical arm with a big camera, with a glass and lines on it. Then he slides a big, flat slab of something under the table.
Arturo manipulates the arm over her. Henry’s hands are on her.
“Good, cariño,” Arturo says. “Now, when I’m ready to take the shot, you need to get your hands out of the way, but then you can put them back to her. She seems to trust you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Henry is stroking her. She decides maybe letting the good doctor examine her isn’t the worst idea of the day. She has to get better, so she can stay with Henry-niño.
She’s more uncomfortable when they return to the exam room. Dr. Arturo gives her several shots, after he explains that she needs stitches on her right side on her belly. She has a couple of broken ribs and a bad concussion, so he isn’t comfortable with more than a local anesthesia for stitching her.
She meows a few times but she’s very careful not to claw at Henry. She isn’t that gentle with David, who has stepped in to help Henry keep her still. As if she would hurt Henry. Although she supposes, since they have no clue of who she really is, they are treating her like any other cat.
She is given painkillers and antibiotics in one last shot. Henry is asking many questions. Arturo bandages her and straps her. It’s uncomfortable but, after it’s done, she feels slightly better. Her head is still killing her, but Dr. Arturo explains that she will be in pain for a week or so, then she should start feeling much better. That is, if the swelling of her brain goes down on its own by then.
“She has no tags, tattoos or chip that I could find.”
David snaps a picture of her face with his phone and says, “Well, I guess we’ll put her pretty face on the wall up with the other shelter animals who are lost or abandoned. Hopefully someone will come to ask about her.”
“Where is she supposed to go until that happens?” It’s Emma who’s asking, Snow is beside her.
Regina feels quite sleepy again.
“Can we take her with us, Emma?” Henry is asking what Regina has been silently purring against his fingers all this time.
“I don’t know, kid, the loft isn’t so big for all of us already.”
“She can stay here, of course,” Dr. Arturo says, “but she is quite taken with Henry, it would be good for her recovery to be around him. I will call right away if someone comes here to claim her.”
“She’s such a lovely kitty, Emma. It’s not a bother at all if Henry wants to help take care of her. And David will know what to do if she’s not feeling well.” It’s Snow who must have the final word, of course.
“Make sure to bring her in if she gets sick or sleeps too long after a day or two. If you see her unresponsive or refusing to feed herself as well. She’ll be drowsy for a day or two, especially with the medicines I prescribed. Change the bandages for the next few days, then you can let it be. The stitches will disintegrate within two weeks.”
“So we’re taking her with us, right?” Henry is insisting.
“I guess we are.” Emma puts a hand on his shoulder. As soon as Regina is back against Henry’s chest, she closes her eyes.
All she hears next is Kathryn telling Emma to call her before they all part. Then she’s out.
The next couple of days are terribly hazy. All she knows is that she’s upstairs, in Emma and Henry’s room. She’s presented with water that she drinks out of a bowl. At least it’s fresh. They also try to give her some disgusting smelling cat food that she absolutely refuses to eat at any cost.
There’s a fuss about bringing her back to Arturo when that happens, but then Henry triumphantly announces that she ate a full string cheese stick out of his snack, and licked the middle of one of his Oreo cookies.
It was disgusting, but still not cat food from a can. There are limits as to what she’ll tolerate from these peasants.
There’s another fuss about taking her back to Arturo at the animal shelter over the not-so-small matter of her using a litter box.
At first, David stacks newspapers at the bottom, then some foul, coarse, white litter from the shelter. He must have taken it with him that afternoon. Then, eventually, they move on to naturally scented litter.
Emma calls her a princess. Henry huffs at her, which is the highlight of that first day, as far as she can remember.
The litter box is first put upstairs, but she has no intention of using it. Or using it there. Then, David tells them they should put it somewhere it will remain so that she can explore her territory from there and know where to go.
A fiery scratch on the wrist is his reward when he tries to gently force her into the box as if to leave her in there.
She’s aware she has to use the litter box, if she is to pass for a normal cat and not end up at the animal shelter or worse. She just won’t go with them watching.
Henry seems to understand her need for privacy when, after a full day of holding it in, she has to go more than she has ever had to go before. It’s nighttime and the loft is quiet. She gets up from Emma’s bed, which she has been sharing with Henry. Since Regina was brought to the bedroom, it’s only been Henry and her in the bed. Emma is sleeping on the floor on a single mattress she pulled from underneath.
She thinks Henry’s asleep like the rest of the inhabitants of the loft, but he follows her, barefooted, down the stairs leading to the deep end of the kitchen, where her litter box is. Her bowl of water is by the kitchen island. She sits by the litter box, and watches him.
“Go on,” Henry says, “it’s the right place for you.”
She sits still. It’s not very comfortable and her head is still very sore, but the rest she’s had on the bed—with Henry, or alone—has done her some good in the past couple of days.
“What’s wrong, girl?” Henry frowns. And then it seems to hit him. “You want your privacy?”
She stands and rubs the side of her face against his knee. She can’t communicate too much with him at once, but establishing a yes or no dialogue a little at a time seems harmless. It might be helpful, although she has yet to decide if she wants to let him know who she is at all.
“I suppose you’re like me. I wouldn’t like anyone watching me using the bathroom either. Just don’t make a mess, okay?”
He stands and turns to leave. She waits until he climbs up the stairs, leaving the door cracked opened for her to come in and out. It’s been that way since she got here.
Potty boxes are nothing fancy. Still, she realizes that going to the actual toilet would not work out with her anatomy. She does her business, scratches at the clean part of the box to cover it up. She wants to clean her paws, so she knocks some water out of her bowl into the tray underneath and steps in it. She paws into the water thoroughly, then drinks from the bowl itself before slowly making her way back up the stairs to Henry.
She’s exhausted. Climbing from Emma’s mattress on the floor to the bed Henry sleeps in is an effort she really doesn’t feel strong enough for just then but has to make anyway. Cuddled into Henry’s side, she sleeps well into the next day. She wakes here and there, but she isn’t bothered by any of them except David, who cleans her wound and her scratches before slowly working all the glue from the surgical tape that has been strapped to her.
He checks her eyes, and smiles. He doesn’t try to pet her and that’s good. She seems to have managed to have all the humans of the house understand that only Henry is allowed to touch her.
Until of course, Snow decides she must work her gift on her.
It’s a couple of days later. So, approximately the fifth day Regina has been with them at the loft, and probably a week or so since she has been a cat. Time flies. She can keep count for now, but her head hurts. As soon as she can move without too much pain, she will find a spot, maybe in the mezzanine in the small space at the right of the bedroom. Emma has arranged it into a sitting area, and Henry loves it there. He sits there when he reads his comics. Emma keeps a few of her belongings and candles over there as well, a corner of her own in an apartment otherwise branded entirely as Mary Margaret’s. .
It’s breakfast, and Regina is hungry. Apparently this is a good sign, from what Dr. Arturo said to David when he checked if anyone had been asking for her at the shelter.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Snow.” David sounds worried.
Snow is approaching her. Emma and Henry are still asleep. Snow has been cooking bacon and eggs in the hopes of waking them. With strawberry pancakes. It’s June. David is working on fresh pressed orange juice. A family breakfast on any given Saturday. Except it’s prepared by Snow White and Prince Charming.
Emma has expressed concern at not finding Regina anywhere. Snow seems unsurprised she’s vanished. Even when David points out he’s surprised she would leave Henry behind.
They truly are morons.
Henry hasn’t said a word. That alone is troubling her enough. In any case, she’s come down the stairs in the hopes that Snow will make herself useful by giving her some much needed protein, maybe even some pancakes, but mostly because she wishes to eavesdrop. The curse has been broken ten days, magic is back in Storybrooke and there haven’t been any riots so far.
She needs information.
There is indeed a smaller plate in Snow’s hand, with cut pieces of pancake, bacon and scrambled eggs on it. Regina is sitting by her bowl of freshwater, surveying her.
Snow stands closer now, plate in hand, staring back at Regina. “Don’t you think it’s strange that she will only eat what we eat?”
“Well, it’s not like cat food is appetizing. You should see how Pongo wolfs down a burger and fries whenever Red will let him.” David is also looking at her. He’s smiling at the thought.
“What if she is one of us, you know? Magical. Pongo is.” Snow will never stop being too curious.
David shrugs, “Who do you think she is? Puss in Boots?” He’s goofing around, both Snow and Regina give him a scowl.
“All right,” he has his hands up in apology, “If she is one of us and not your average cat from this world, I say we treat her as humanly as possible and wait for her to be claimed by her owner.”
“What if she’s not? What if it’s a curse or something?”
“Gold has left town, Regina is nowhere to be found and any other magic user we could find is more or less on our side or not wanting to get attention.” David stands to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist. “It’s only a cat, Snow, and, so far, she hasn’t done anything suspicious.”
“She has this look in her eyes, she’s way too smart to be just a cat.” Snow settles her plate beside her bowl on the tray set down for her food. “It’s like she knows what we’re saying. Like she’s listening. Maybe I should try to communicate with her.”
“There’s a study that says that cats understand human language and behaviors, they just don’t find us interesting enough to care. Unless they want to,” Henry says, coming down the stairs in jeans and a shirt, his favorite zipped hoodie over his arm. He hangs it by the door and then takes a seat on one of the bar stools at the breakfast table. But not before giving her a smile.
“And how do you know that?” David looks incredulous, much like Emma who is also coming down the stairs, dressed but not groomed. There’s only one bathroom in the loft.
“I read it on Think Progress, online on the computer at the library. It’s a research study conducted in California, at Berkeley. Something about Animal Be… Behav… It’s a science thing.” That’s her boy.
Snow smiles at him, “It’s very nice of you to read about how to take care of cats, Henry.” She serves him a plate as well, while David fills his glass with orange juice. “And it goes to make my point that I should try to communicate with her.”
“That’s a bad idea, Mary Margaret.” Emma also sits on a bar stool. “And the word you’re looking for is behavioral, kid.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” He digs in.
“Also, you didn’t tell me about going to the library when I left you at Granny’s yesterday after lunch.” She’s not scolding him, but it’s obvious he did something sneaky. Regina is somewhat relieved Emma isn’t completely blind, but she would very much like to gag at the idea of Emma Swan parenting her son.
“I went with Ruby to visit Belle, Miss French.” He’s corrected himself on his own and Regina can’t help the prick of hurt at her heart.
“If you want to know more about cats,” Snow tells him, “we could go together later this morning.”
“I didn’t go to learn more about cats.” He announces to them after taking a swig at his orange juice. “I wanted to go with Ruby so I could get on the computer to check my mom’s online banking, I only looked up articles about cats after I was done.”
That definitely puts a dent in their peaceful brand new family breakfast.
He finishes cleaning his plate, inhaling another couple pancakes with syrup while the adults in the room stare at him at a loss. What do you tell a soon to be eleven year old boy who is apparently smarter than two or three of them put together.
“Henry…” Emma starts. He looks at her. “These things are for adults to do.”
“You mean like looking for my mom?” Henry is angry with her. He’s angry with Emma. He’s angry with everything and everyone.
“I am looking for your mom.” Emma is serious, as much as she had been at the hospital, and then when it was time to do something to try to save Henry.
He’s looking at this woman who is neither his mother nor his friend, and Regina knows what is coming next.
“She hasn’t used any of her credit cards, and nothing but bills for home went through on her accounts.” He swallows his emotions. He should not want to do that. He should not know to keep his feelings away. She did that to him. She’s going to have to make it up to him. “What if she’s in danger?”
“We don’t know that yet, but your information confirms mine. She didn’t leave Storybrooke or, if she did, it wasn’t by choice.”
“Emma, I don’t think—” Snow is interrupted by Emma’s hand signaling her to stop speaking.
Emma’s eyes are not leaving Henry’s. All that Regina can see is the back of his head and the tension in his body. She wishes she could do more. Jumping in the seat next to him is the least she can try.
It hurts like hell the second she releases her contraction on her muscles to propel herself. She lands perfectly but falters on the seat with a strangled whimper. Henry turns to her immediately and she can’t stop herself from climbing into his lap. He holds her rounded butt, an arm alongside her body, allowing her to rest against him. He pets her with his other hand. They both stare at Emma Swan.
“I don’t know what has happened, Henry, there aren’t any clues. I went to the mansion, the crypt, her office and every place I thought she could be hiding at.” The woman sighs. “The thing is, I don’t think she’s hiding. I think something happened to her but I don’t know what yet.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I promise you, I won’t stop looking.”
“What if—” She wants to scream that she will never leave him. She rubs her nose inside his hand. “What if she left because now that you broke her curse, she thinks you’re going to hurt her? Or that I hate her?”
“She would never abandon you,” Emma says. “I obviously don’t know much about your mom, but I know that much. And I know a lot about parents not wanting their kids, Henry. Your mom would never abandon you. Can you trust me on that?”
“I’ve been pretty mean to her.” He’s blaming himself for being right about her? She was the one who lied. No matter what, she was the one who lied and who made him feel like what he knew to be real and true wasn’t.
Emma pulls her messy hair back, her hand running through it. “Look, kid, it’s okay to be angry when someone lies to you, even if it’s your mom. It doesn’t mean you don’t love her anymore, or that she doesn’t love you. She told you she does, remember, when you woke up at the hospital?”
“Yeah,” Henry says, although he doesn’t sound as reassured as Regina would prefer.
“Why don’t you go brush your teeth and wash up, I’ll finish this and then we can go out to the station together, see where else I could look, ’kay?”
“Okay.” He kisses the top of her head, and then gently deposits her in the other stool, before hopping down off his and rushing to the bathroom.
“Emma!” Snow is whispering exclaiming, “why would you encourage him to look for Regina? He needs to adjust to being here with you. You are his mother.”
“Look,” Emma seems upset, unsettled, undecided, too, “I love Henry, and I want to do right by him, but his mom is Regina. I don’t know the first thing about being his mother.”
“She’s the Evil Queen!”
Regina is looking at the woman with what must be the cat version of wide eyes. Emma Swan is defending her. Not only to Henry, but against her own mother. That’s unexpected. Honorable.
Emma’s voice is weary. “The curse broke, and, yeah, there’s magic, and you guys are all fairytale characters, but this here is Storybrooke, Maine. I’m the town’s Sheriff, and Regina isn’t the Evil Queen, she’s Regina Mills, the town’s Mayor, and Henry Mills’ legal guardian and adoptive mother. I have zero rights to him.”
“Emma, you’re our little girl.” David has his arm around Snow. Regina feels like maybe she ought to support Miss Swan in this matter. She gently walks onto Henry’s stool, sitting by Emma. “You are a Princess, and Henry is your son.”
“He’s my son, yeah, but I’m no princess, and I’m no mother. He already has one, and she raised him pretty damn well.” Emma looks at her then. She’s looking past her really, blinking her emotions away. So much hurt in her eyes. “I decided to stick around because the kid and his mom were having a rough patch. She isn’t a bad mother, and I can’t just replace her because he thinks I’m a hero.”
Snow is quiet, but her jaw is set in a fashion Regina knows well. Righteousness.
“All right,” David says, “whatever you think is best, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” Snow smiles to her daughter. “We love you, sweetheart, and we believe in you.”
“But you disagree.”
“I know Regina differently than you do,” Snow hesitates, “she’s been… what she did here in Storybrooke, what she did to us, it’s… I’m angry. But I can recognize that Henry… I think maybe Henry changed her. I saw what you saw at the hospital, when he woke up.”
“When I find her,” Emma says, “will you guys try?”
What is going on in Emma Swan’s head?
“She tried to have you killed.” David has a point. She did.
“This thing between Regina and me,” Emma says, rubbing her forehead, “I pretty much showed up here and picked up a fight with her. She tried to put me to sleep, not kill me. And even if she had, I think all she was doing was trying to protect her relationship with Henry. She messed up, and she did that before I got here, but, you know, I didn’t help. I pretty much pushed her over the edge.”
“That’s noble of you,” David says, “and I respect that. You’re my grown up baby girl. That’s on us, but it’s on her, too—”
“David—”
“But,” David raises his hand to silence Emma, “but, the cycle has to end. For Henry’s sake, at the very least.” He looks at Snow.
“We’ll try.”
“Thanks,” Emma says, just as Henry comes out of the bathroom.
“I’ll get ready now, and then we can go, ’kay?”
“Sure.” Henry walks to her, petting the top of her head. “Hey, Gramps?”
“Yes?”
“Did you check her today? How are her cuts?”
David walks around to her, as Snow gets the first aid kit. “Let’s check her out, if that’s okay with you, Milady?” David is asking her directly.
Regina makes a point to sit as straight and regal as she can.
“You can’t call her Milady.” Henry scowls.
“Why not, she’s very pretty and well behaved, she must be a lady?”
Henry doesn’t say anything to that, but she knows he’ll be thinking about naming her until he finds what fits.
They do check her. Well, David does. She sits through it patiently. He’s been gentle with her and it appeases Henry. Her wounds are cleaned, her sutures and skin are healing appropriately, even her fur is growing back where Dr. Arturo shaved it off. She allows him to feed her a painkiller like he’s supposed to do twice or thrice a day for a week.
When Snow gestures to touch her, it takes a lot out of Regina not to hiss at her. Snow cocks her head, as if she’s listening intently. They stare at one another. Snow must be trying to communicate with her. Regina feels a gentle mental probing, it’s weak but it’s there. Snow is really magical after all. At least with small creatures. She actually realizes that if she were to will it, she would be able to meow and be understood by Snow White.
Regina doesn’t, though.
“She is special,” Snow says, and then to her specifically, “you don’t have to talk to me, but it would help.”
Regina feels herself shrink when Snow’s fingertips softly brush the top of her head. When the palm of her hand pets her once more, Regina climbs into David’s lap and hides behind his elbow.
“I don’t think she’s ready for that,” he chuckles.
It’s another full week before Henry and David take her to visit Dr. Arturo. She allows Henry to carry her, especially when David approaches them with a carrier. He doesn’t insist for long.
“Ha, Henry and David,” Dr. Arturo greets them, “and the precious chica.”
“Has anyone asked for her?” Henry’s eyes betray him. He’s hoping no one has.
“I’m afraid not, young man.” Arturo smiles at him. “Have you come today to entrust her with me?”
“No!” Henry seems adamant and she’s very relieved to hear it.
They’ve been close for the past couple of weeks. Regina is enjoying staying with him at night, and all the attention he gives her. He’s been quiet, even with her. Whatever Emma tries, he’s forlorn. She knows it’s because he blames himself about her disappearance.
She can’t tell him. She has no trust in Snow’s word. If they find out she’s stuck in the weak form of a cat, they might very well dispose of her in a much more definitive manner.
“We came to make sure you’re satisfied with her recovery, Doc.” David says, “Henry wants to keep her very much.”
Arturo probes at her in all places. Only her ribs hurt still. Her scratches have scabs which itch, and the stitches are annoying, but her head is not painful at all anymore.
“Well, Henry,” the good doctor tells them, “she’s doing very well. We couldn’t hope for a smoother recovery.”
“That’s great, thanks, Dr. Arturo.”
“You’re much welcome, but I think that our pretty friend owes it more to your hard work than mine.”
“Tell me, Doc,” David asks, “we were thinking maybe you could tell us what type of cat she is, and her age maybe?”
“Ah, yes I can tell you, she’s probably around six years old, and she’s well groomed. I think she’s an outdoors kitty though, so you might have to arrange for her to get some air soon.”
“She likes it when I carry her around. She didn’t want anything to do with the carrier to come here,” Henry says.
“Well, then, maybe you could try to put a collar and a harness on her with a leash?”
“Like a dog?” Henry is surprised but excited. She is, too. It’s annoying having to wait for him all the time. She would much rather go where he goes.
“Well, some cats are very cooperative with the concept. It really depends on what they want. I’m sure you noticed by now that cats are very independent, they know what they want and what they don’t want.”
“Yeah, we noticed.” Henry laughs. “She won’t eat anything but human food, and she hates going to the potty when someone is around.”
“Snow says she’s one of us,” David says.
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” Arturo gazes at her, a benevolent smile on his lips. “She’s a Siamese, that’s why she’s so pretty. Siamese are reputed to be talkative and quite smart, too.”
He exits the exam room, and they follow. She settles back into Henry’s arms, although she is a little heavy for him.
“Here,” Dr. Arturo hands David a collar, a harness and a leash. “You should add a name and contact information for her to the collar cartouche. You know what to do.”
“Thanks, Doc.” David smiles.
“Tell me,” Dr. Arturo seems to hesitate, “if we’re going to stay here, will you be returning to work?”
“You mean here at the animal shelter?”
“Yes, you have been a pretty good vet assistant.”
“I like the work, Doc, I do.” David looks at Arturo with a gentle smile, earnest and soft. He really does love animals. “I just don’t know what our roles will be now that we remember, what the people want to do.”
“We should find out soon,” Arturo tells him, his accent bringing her back to the reality of where she’s from and what the curse did to these people. “I like being the town’s vet, I will keep opening the shelter every day. I can help magical creatures, too.”
“That’s good to know.” David shakes his hand. A good man’s handshake.
Dr. Arturo leaves them to take care of his next patient while David gestures for Henry to deposit her on the counter.
“I’m going to show you how to put this on her. You’ll have to be careful with her chest and belly, okay?”
“Yes,” Henry says. “You’ll think she’ll be good with it?”
David looks her in the eye. She would be defiant and actually show both of them that she doesn’t need a leash as a dog would, but she supposes she might have to play along. For Henry’s sake. He has to be able to get them all sold on keeping her. The least she can do is help.
“We’re gonna find out.” He adjusts the harness on her. She even lifts her paws to help him out. She holds still and patiently waits for him to be satisfied with his work. She mostly doesn’t try to shake the entrapment off.
“It looks good,” David says. “Just don’t pull on her too hard or anything. Let’s just try to hold her as usual and if she wants to get down, you can let her.”
“We could go to the playground,” Henry says. They’ve been cooked up inside all day.
David smiles at him. “We could even stop by Granny’s on the way and get milkshakes to go…”
Sometimes the shepherd is not as bad as he seems. Even if milkshakes should not become something else but a special treat.
They enter Granny’s together. She’s still quite satisfied in Henry’s arms, although he seems a bit tired to carry her. He lets her down on a bar stool while David tries to get Ruby’s attention. The diner is busy, mostly with mothers and their children, a couple of older people.
Life in Storybrooke seems to be going on.
“Is this the kitty Pongo brought you, Henry?”
“Yes, did Dr. Hopper tell you?” Henry puts his hand on her back as if to steady her.
“Let me look at her.” Red comes around the diner’s bar and counter and stands before her. “She’s very pretty. And it’s Kathryn who told me.”
“She’s a Siamese,” Henry replies as if that explains it all.
“What’s her name?” Now, that is a very good question. She needs a name, that will make her officially his.
“Well,” Henry seems hesitant. “I have to ask Emma if we can keep her first. I don’t know what my mom will say when she sees her, too.”
“Hmm,” Red has her hands on her hips and is studying her. “I bet your mom will find her very pretty. Regina likes animals. She’s pals with Pongo, I can tell you that much.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Henry’s smile is radiant. “So, maybe when she gets home, I can keep her with me after all. So, that means Emma won’t have to really look after her, and the kitty and me we’re just going to stay there for a while. Emma will let me keep her if it’s just for a while, right?”
“I think you should ask her anyway, for a while or forever.” Red ruffles his hair. “Emma, and your mom too, when she gets back.”
“We were hoping to get some milkshakes to go,” David asks Red, as he hangs up his cellphone.
Red studies her for a minute more. She extends a hand in front of her nose. Red smells more like predator than dog. She smells like wolf and that’s a very different scent. Red smells like wild and forest, like the ground, like trees, plants and flowers. And coffee and milk, too.
The werewolf gazes at her with command, without fear. With tenderness. Definitely a strange experience.
“She’s special.” Red brushes the back of her fingers against the side of her mouth, her cheek and whiskers, and she likes it. Her fingers slides all the way a couple of times. Regina finds herself leaning into the touch before she can even realize what she’s doing.
“I’ll get you those shakes.”
It stops as abruptly as Red touched her. She shakes her head once, annoyed that she enjoyed the sensation and it’s lingering on her whiskers.
“Things have been quieter than I thought they would be,” Red tells David while they wait. “Maybe because there’s no one to blame.”
“That’s possible.” David is focused on his hands, folded on the counter. “We need to get things in order, though, and decide what’s going to happen now that Storybrooke is out in the real world.”
The blender rings loud and obnoxious. It ends their conversation. What will they do? How will the town be managed? There’s magic on Earth. None of them have any idea how to deal with the town, how to keep them safe.
“Someone needs to manage the town, David.”
“My mom knows how to do that.” Henry speaks to both of them as David lifts their milkshakes off the counter. “Are you helping Emma look for her?”
“I am,” Red replies. She gently lifts Regina in her arms, and hands her over to Henry. “You take care of your cat, and don’t forget to let me know what you decide to call her, all right?”
Red runs her fingers on the side of her mouth and up her cheek again, making her whiskers tingle.
“She likes that.” Henry nuzzles the top of her head.
“You should try it. It works on every cat, even the big ones.”
“So, if I meet a lion, I should just pet the side of their face?” Henry leans into Red, she gives him a kiss on the forehead.
“You got me.”
“You’ll find my mom?”
“I’ll do my best, Henry.”
“Thanks.”
She opens the door for them and he steps outside first. She would have thought Red would recognize her scent. Maleficent thought about it all.
She needs to figure out how to be human again. Henry needs her.
Their visit to the playground is a success. They’ve been doing it every day. Sometimes with David, sometimes with Snow, Emma when she’s not working. Henry isn’t allowed to go anywhere without company. It’s never anyone that Emma doesn’t trust, and Regina is relieved that her trust circle seems very small.
It certainly doesn’t include the dwarves. Archie and Pongo take walks with them. Henry likes to go to the pier. Pongo is a pain, every time he sees her. The only person he seems more interested in than her is Red. Once, when they are all together, she’s certain Pongo’s interest raises suspicions in Red’s mind. The werewolf girl looks at her like she knows much more than she lets on.
For most of June, Emma is gone from dawn to dusk. Regina knows she drives out of town about as much as she hikes the woods with Red. The Sheriff comes back to the loft hungry, angry and exhausted.
She’s looking for her.
It’s a strange feeling, seeing Emma be so intent on finding her. They have very little contact. Emma is utterly uncomfortable around her. The only decision she’s made is to allow Henry to keep her with him.
She comes home every evening and tells him what she did to find her. Sometimes she has to deal with Storybrooke business. Henry gets upset. Other nights, he doesn’t. He refuses to say what he feels. Even to Archie. He’s started talking to her. He asks her questions, he compares their being adopted.
He still hasn’t named her, and Regina has no idea what to do to become human again.
The town doesn’t meet until the end of the month. It’s in the evening. Henry takes her with him to Town Hall. Emma has a protective arm around his shoulders and Regina sits calmly in his lap.
Most of the citizens of Storybrooke have kept on their activities, and tried to keep their businesses going. The different grocery stores, restaurants and other stores or practices keep going along as they always have.
It’s part of their issue.
Their lives have all been stuck in time, change has happened but slowly. Their town is now being propelled in a rapid turn over. People who were allocated an occupation by the curse do not all necessarily wish to keep it. Children have returned to their real parents, married couples have broken up to return to their original spouses. People who were somewhat magical are starting to feel it again.
Fairies aren’t nuns, and Rumplestiltskin’s nasty hoarding habits have caused his shop and secrets to be raided and outed. Patients who were prisoners, secretaries who weren’t, dwarves who want to look for fairy dust, and royals who won’t be simple peasants are coming out of the woodwork.
The curse undone, affairs of government need to be serviced, and some sort of order needs to be found before tourists or, worse, administrative officials start to turn their eyes towards Storybrooke.
It’s Snow who addresses the town:
“People, please, calm down. Let’s discuss this in a civilized manner between us.”
“Are you going to divide the town between the royals?” the town’s mechanic demands.
Regina can see Snow searching Abigail, George and Thomas eyes around the crowd.
“No,” she says solemn, “that’s not what we will do.”
“Are we going back to the old world?” It’s Belle French’s father asking that question.
“We do not have the means to,” the Blue Fairy says. Regina would very much like to catch her and possibly try her as a snack. If she was her normal fairy size, that is.
“So, what now?” a dwarf whose name she cannot remember asks Snow White as if she’s their messiah.
“We thought that it would be a good thing to make a census,” Snow declares. “Some of us have received occupations with the Curse, and apparently we still remember the knowledge that goes with them. Some of you have businesses, some of you have local public jobs, we need the town to keep going.”
“What about those who don’t want to keep doing what the Curse had us do?” That is Jeremy Randall and Regina recognizes him as the town’s Waste and Sewerage Department Chief. “I have two crews of three guys running the garbage trucks alone who have been showing up one day out of three.”
“And we definitely need to address that, Mr. Randall,” Snow carries on.
“The Mayor’s office is getting requests and memos from the county and the state department every day,” Miss Cloverfield says in her formal but polite and authoritative voice.
Miss Cloverfield is her main assistant and Chief of Staff. She’s a large and curved black lady—always impeccable, whether in a suit or not—whom she did not know before casting the Dark Curse. She’s always suspected her to be from Nacre but, aside from that, Regina knows very little of the woman who has worked for her and the town for almost three decades. It’s not like she could just ask her about anything other than her favorite flowers, foods and her situation in Storybrooke. The woman lived alone as far as she could tell, but now, there’s a boy about Henry’s age sitting next to her. Regina does not know him.
“Yes, Mrs.?” Snow hesitates.
“Miss Cloverfield. I have been Mayor’s Mills Chief of Staff all this time, Your Highness.”
“Miss Cloverfield, yes, that’s a very important point. We have got to get a handle on how the town functions and appears to the outside world.”
“It’d be a good idea, if we don’t want to all end up locked up in prison or some looney bin, Ma’am.” If Snow or most of the crowd knew Miss Cloverfield at all, they would know she’s about as funny as Granny with her crossbow.
“What’s that census going to do?” It’s Grumpy who asks.
“It will help us know how many we are and what people want, it will be like some sort of form with questions that people will answer. With that, we will be able to prioritize certain things and have a clearer view of what we need urgently or not.”
“Will there be a Town Council? Elections? Does anyone know where Mayor Mills is?” Miss Cloverfield seems to be determined not to call her out as the Evil Queen.
Sounds of protest and loud calls for the Evil Queen’s head are heard.
Suddenly Emma is standing, her voice surprisingly strong and clear. The ruckus quiets down immediately.
“Nobody is going to kill Regina or punish her. Or anyone else for that matter.” Emma looks at them all, slowly. “Nobody is going to take matters of justice in their own hands. We’re here in Storybrooke, Maine. We will respect the laws that exist here and so far, that’s me.”
She is in uniform, Regina realizes then. Not bad, Miss Swan.
“We wanted to ask today, since we have a lot of people here,” Emma goes on, “if we could decide amongst ourselves, and calmly, about six people to form a council. Unofficial for now. Later on, when the census is over, we’ll come back to the people for democratic elections.”
“You mean to say anyone could be ruling?” someone from the crowd shouts, but Regina can’t tell whom.
“Yeah, this is America and in this country we elect people to govern and such,” Emma says clearly. “I’m Sheriff and I’ve been elected for the next four years, including this one. That’s official, but we’ll need to elect a Mayor, and the Town Council. We’ll also need to appoint certain people, like a Medical Chief at the hospital, a Coroner, a chief for the Fire Department, a School Board, a Principal for the school, and more.
“There’s going to be a lot of work, so we’re asking everyone to think with the most integrity they have and cooperate. It might be keeping your job a little longer, even if you don’t like it, showing up on time, being patient with the people who are working to make Storybrooke a good place to live in.”
“So you’ll reopen the school?” Michael Tillman asks.
“We would like to,” Snow answers, “in August for the new school year if we can.”
“The point today,” Emma says, and Regina must admit, she’s impressed, “is to decide on five or six people to start the process. So, are there any volunteers or people you’d like to nominate off the top of your head?”
“You, Savior!” someone shouts.
“It’s Sheriff Swan.” Emma makes it very clear with just her tone. “I’m not going to be on the council but I’ll participate to the meetings and such. I’m already a town official.”
“Miss Cloverfield should be on the Council,” Kathryn stands and announces, coming closer to Emma. “She’s the most familiar with the town after Regina herself.”
“It’s good thinking,” Granny says. Nobody else says a word.
“Well then, Miss Cloverfield, if you wouldn’t mind?” Emma asks.
“I will help, I haven’t stopped, really.” That’s one.
“Her Majesty should be on the council,” a dwarf says.
“Which one? We’ve got a few.” Whales seems to think he’s funny.
“Princess Snow White! And the Prince.”
Approval comes from the crowd.
“All right, so Mary… Snow White will be on the council.” Emma falters on her mother’s name. It shuts Snow’s attention to anything else. Even when David speaks next.
“I should not be in it, it would be unfair.” He refuses. It’s wise of him.
“Granny knows most everyone in town.” It’s Archie who makes the comment.
Granny doesn’t seem too excited at the prospect, but she’s on the council all the same. Followed by Lord Conrad MacGregor from Britannia, the actual SBFD Chief, Prince Eric of Nacre, who Regina has known as Eric Hangman, one of the most discreet fishing boat captains in Storybrooke’s fleet.
“With you, Emma,” Kathryn says, “it makes five. It helps for the voting.”
“I would have rather you be in it, Kathryn,” Emma says.
“Princess Abigail?” King George’s voice is cold and harsh, he doesn’t like that he’s not counted in their council. “It would be proper that someone with any sort of experience at ruling be on this council.”
“I would like to remind you that Eric is more than capable at politics, he has ruled the Archipelago when all I have done is stand in my father’s shadow.”
“Maybe so, dear.” George is playing nice, but he won’t keep the appearance for long, unless Kathryn agrees. “But it would appease some of us who feel they might be… misjudged from their past positions in the Land of Fairytales.”
Emma is looking intensely at Kathryn, there’s a quiet pleading in her look. They forgot about Henry, who has been sitting on his chair on the side of the scene, Regina on his lap.
“Very well.” Kathryn is regal, willing or not. She has been raised in politics and dirty tricks. She might not like it, but she’s keen and Regina knows her well enough to know that she’s also fair. Most unlike George, who is going to be thoroughly disappointed if he hopes to pressure Kathryn into doing his bidding.
It’s late when they return from the meeting at the Town Hall. Henry is tired and hungry, but Emma is agitated. They eat the lasagna which isn’t as good as hers, as Henry doesn’t forget to tell Snow, and soon after that Henry is in Emma’s bed, sleepy, warm skin and drooping eyelids.
Emma settles next to him. She’s changed, and she’s lying on top of the comforter, threading her fingers through his hair. Regina is at his feet, observing them.
“How did you think we did?” Emma asks him. She’s pressing soft kisses to his forehead.
“It’s good that we’re staying in Storybrooke. We have to pretend to be normal people.” Henry sighs. “That’s not gonna be easy.”
“No, you’re right, it’s not going to be easy.”
“So my mom won’t be the Mayor again when she comes back?” His voice is sort of small, sort of lost in thoughts. “She’s good at it, though. She always works a lot.”
“Yeah, I’ve looked at some of her paperwork in her office and all. She’s very good at it.” Emma wraps her arm around the middle of him. He looks small against her longer form and her muscled arm. “It’s just that, with everyone being angry at her right now, maybe it’s going to be a little difficult for her to be Mayor right away. We’re going to need her help, I think, but, you know, we don’t even know if she’ll want to be the Mayor. We should ask her first, don’t you think?”
“You think she won’t want to be?” Does she? She’s pretty much being deposed as they speak. Someone else is going to sit in her chair before long.
She’s been the Queen, the Mayor, she likes her status and the privileges, but, strangely, none of that matters. All she wants is Henry. Regina is not that certain she wants to be in charge of these people who would sooner have her head. She has no doubt her twenty-nine years of effort to keep the city afloat and give them a decent quality of life are going to be forgotten in the blink of an eye. Will she help from the shadows? Maybe. She is tired of having to step on toes, force and be forced into roles.
It would break her heart to see the work of a lifetime dissolved into stupidity and nothingness, but maybe Kathryn or Eric will do right by Storybrooke. Maybe it’s time for something new. How she is going to find her place amongst them, she doesn’t know, and, for the moment, it’s not what is crucial to her.
No, what is crucial to her is her son. His well-being, his safety. She has to find a way to be with him again, and maybe to make peace with Emma. The woman is standing up for her, earnestly looking for her.
Regina looks at Henry falling asleep, at Emma, watching him and giving him the affection he needs, as if he’s everything. Everything that matters. To both of them.
“Emma?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go home this weekend?” Henry says ‘home’ like he’s camping here. He’s drowsy and unguarded. Emma’s pain is palpable. At least to Regina. “I need new pajamas, and my Wonder Woman comics.”
Emma swallows, Regina watches her blink away something that looks awfully like bad self-esteem and a biting sense of inadequacy. “Anything you want, kid.”
He smiles in her arms, his breath even, abandoned to sleep.
Emma nuzzles at his cheek. She sighs deeply. Regina finds herself sympathizing, bothered that Emma is so unsure of where she belongs and that it’s been so hard for both of them to understand that he has the most generous heart. He can love them both. And a cat.
She decides on something. Curiously, it’s not so foreign or maybe, she tells herself as she approaches the middle of the bed, where it dips ever so slightly toward Emma because she’s heavier than Henry, she can fight later if needs be. For now, her little prince and his knight both need to be loved.
She climbs over his legs, he doesn’t stir. She sits on his thigh for a moment. Emma is looking at her. She holds Emma’s gaze for what feels too long and uncharacteristic for any normal cat. She’s not a normal cat, and if they’re going to do this right for the boy lying next to them, maybe it’s time that Emma be let in on just how special she is.
Emma is shy. Shy and clumsy. Uncomfortable in her own skin, because she has no idea what to do with herself or what she feels. She doesn’t know how to be around others and there’s something incredibly sad about that which Regina has refused to even begin to consider. It might have contributed to sway her in her resolve. She could not have that.
Now, she needs it.
She dips her head first, taking a step. It’s a symbolical step, followed by a real one. She paws gently until she finds a crevice made of Emma’s belly and Henry’s side, spooning him. Emma’s arm is over them, but she lifts it, allowing Regina to round herself in a ball, her tail tucked carefully with her paws, bent and relaxed so she doesn’t claw at their soft skin.
She’s not facing Henry, she chose Emma tonight. Her nose is wet but warm, she knows but she enjoys the small shudder of Emma’s reaction to her. It’s sweet.
Almost reverently, Emma places her arm back over all three of them. It doesn’t take so long, though, before she touches Regina for the first time. Emma’s fingers find the side of her mouth, just like Henry has explained Regina loves it.
Regina purrs. She doesn’t fight it, it feels nice. Cosy and comfortable. If Emma knew she was touching Reigna, she probably would have a stroke. Regina would chuckle but she can’t. So she purrs, allowing Emma to relax with her until they both drift off.