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Chapter Text

Donald and Douglas MacIntosh stand in front 108 Mifflin street, a big White House in a small coastal town just below the Scottish/English border. 

They stand and they stare. 

Everything about it is pristine. Immaculate. It's not new by any means, but definitely newer than a lot of the buildings in Britain's small towns. In fact, this entire town is entirely newer than what they are used to. Eva and Leah had said it was due to the curse. Donald, Douglas and Rosie think that for a cursed town, it's pretty nice. 

Now, the boys, having donned their best kilts, stand in front of their mother’s house, their sisters left safely back with the engines. They had insisted that they should go alone first, to scope it out and make sure it's safe, to make sure they weren't making a terrible mistake. 

But there is nothing untoward about the house, nearly a mansion. Only, in the boys’ minds, it is just the type of beauty one might use to hide something treacherous. They can't help but feel like they're walking on eggshells, poking at a poisonous flower. 

After all this time spent wondering, what if she is as awful as the worst of the long line of foster homes they'd been in? What if she doesn't want them or worse, only wants Eva and Leah, whose father she’d loved?

They won't tell her about the girls, then. Will only bring them once they deem it safe - if they deem it safe. Their sisters mean too much to them - they simply can't risk being separated again. 

They ring the doorbell. 

It takes too long for an answer to come and old habits die hard as their fingers entwine, something they used to do as bairns in times of stress. 

The woman who answers is the spitting image of Eva and Leah, with brown eyes to match their own and beauty to rival the island spattered seas of the Hebrides. 

“Can I help you?” She asks, and they unfreeze, hands hastily ripping away from each other. 

“Er - aye.” Donald starts, and it's obvious he's nervous. 

“Are ye Regina Mills?” Douglas finishes for him. 

She looks at them closely. “Yes.” She says. “But who are you? I've not seen you in town before.” 

They shift uncertainly. Donald speaks. “My name’s Donald and -” 

“And I'm Douglas.” Douglas adds. “We’re -” He falters.

“We're your sons.” Donald finishes. 

She freezes, stares a bit. Her hand clenches around the edge of the door.

“No you're not.” She says. 

They hadn't expected this to be easy. 

“I only have one living son and he's with his birth family now.” She continues. 

They exchange a glance before Douglas answers. “People lie, ye ken -”

“Yes.” She cuts him off. “And you are not very adept at it. Now, please leave, before I have you arrested for trespassing.” 

She goes to shut the door but Donald, muttering “Christ” under his breath, jams his foot in it to prevent it and braces his hand just above her's on the door. For a second she looks frightened, but it's gone just as fast.

“If ye dinnae trust our wordt, lass, then trust in this.” 

He retrieves a silver pocket watch from his sporran and offers it to her. The name engraved on the front is that of their grandfather, Henry. She recognizes it immediately.

“Where did you get this?” She demands as she snatches it from Donald's hand.

“We -” 

“So you're thieves too, are you?” She sneers. “Typical.” She goes to slam the door in their faces again. 

This time, Douglas catches it, pries it open and more or less invites himself and his brother into her foyer. Forceful but not rude, or at least not anymore than she's being.

Donald grabs back the pocket watch - it's theirs, their grandfather obviously wanted them to have it - and takes a deep breath. 

“We didnae die like yer father told ye. He sent us away through a stone circle near yer castle and it brought us here, tae another one in Scotland. We were found by someone from Inverness and put in foster care, where we stayed until we were twelve, when we ran away. There's more tae that, but we’ll no’ get intae it now. Yer father did what he did tae protect us. He knew how we'd end up if we were raised by our father. Aye, we had a pretty shite childhood, but it could ha’ been worse and it led us tae ken the freedom we do now. Aye, we saw things we wilnae be able tae unsee anytime soon, but it made us better men for it. Sae, if ye want us tae leave, we will. We wouldnae blame ye for no’ wanting us after what our father did tae ye.” 

He gasps in a breath when he finishes and they wait.

She stares back, breath baited and eyes wide as she struggles to comprehend what she's just been told. The silence extends a bit and the boys shift nervously. 

“We were found, the both o’ us, wrapped in a black knit blanket wi’ red trim, swaddled together. I dinnae ken if ye gave us names or no’ but if ye did, we didnae retain them and we dinnae ken what they might have been, so we're hoping the rest will be proof enough.” Douglas speaks. 

They think maybe they've finally gotten through to her when they see tears forming in her eyes and they wait to see what she says. 

“Leopold and Sky Blue.” 

The boys wrinkle their noses, horrified. “I take it our father chose those.” Says Douglas. 

“He never even asked me.” She replies. 

Donald rolls his eyes. “Typical. Well at least Sky itself isnae too bad. Leopold though, Christ, it sounds like a gross auld English King. I'm glad we didnae retain those, eh Dougie?” 

“If they were physical objects, I'd burn them.” Douglas agrees. 

There's a sob from nearby and before the twins realize it, they've been engulfed in a hug by their mother. They're just a bit taller than she is with her heels and their hands land instinctively on her shoulders as they let her hold them, even as a little voice in both their heads cries ye're home, ye're home. 

Donald, in just the way he does with their sisters, rests his forehead against her hair and whispers in a voice thick with emotion:

“In all the times we said we didnae need a mother, we ne’er meant we didnae want one.” 

                                                     o0o

The house is just as immaculate on the inside as it is on the outside. They've actually lived in a few pretty nice houses, including a stately old estate in the highlands, but this tops them all. The kitchen itself is just about as big as some of the smallest crofts they've lived in. The girls deserve a place like this, they think as they take it all in. 

“So, what part of Scotland are you from? I happen to know the town Sheriff spent her childhood bouncing between Glasgow and Edinburgh.” Regina speaks, as she sits a pair of steaming mugs on the counter in front of them. 

They jar from their thoughts to the scent of hot tea and biscuits. 

“Och. Everywhere, really. Highlands, islands, cities, ye name it, we've lived there.” Says Donald. “We've been a way up tae Shetland e’en, though that was a bit o’ a last resort. Nay one else would take us, then.” 

Her smile fades. “Why not?”

Douglas leans against the counter as he takes a sip from his mug. “Well, there are two o’ us for a start. There were times when we had tae fight tooth and nail tae stay together.”

Donald shakes his head. “They separate sibling groups all the time in care, sometimes it cannae be helped, but it's the ones that are willing tae separate twins that dinnae deserve their jobs.” He says darkly. 

“Aye.” His brother agrees. “But anyway. Do ye remember the stone circle we mentioned earlier?” 

Regina nods. “Yes. I remember the one near my castle, but I never went over there. I always thought it had something to do with the fairies.” 

“Right.” Douglas continues. “People think the same of Craig na Dun - the one in the highlands. Ye'll hear locals refer to it as the fairy hill or the fairy circle. Since we were found there, some folks branded us as Changelings - they thought we were o’ the wee folk.”

“And if they were smart enough no’ tae believe that, they were still wary o’ taking us since they didnae ken where we did come from. Treated us more or less like stray cats who might've had any number o’ nasty diseases.” Donald adds. 

They look up from their mugs to see their mother with tears in her eyes. She hastily wipes them away as they come around to her. 

“Och, dinnae cry, lass. We’re no’ any worse for wear, I promise.” Donald says, a hand resting gently on her arm. 

She smiles tearfully and raises a hand to both their faces. “My handsome boys. You don't look like him at all. I was so afraid you would.”

Donald chuckles. “That didnae help our case, ye ken. The wee folk are said tae be terribly bonnie.” 

Regina is about to reply when they hear the front door open and close and heeled footsteps in the foyer. 

“Regina? I'm home!” A female voice calls. 

“In the kitchen, mother!” Their mother calls back. 

Donald and Douglas look at her sharply, alarm poorly masked. “Yer mother lives here?!” 

Regina looks back quizzically. “Yes, why? I don't suppose you know anything about her, do you?” 

“We ken a fair bit more than ye do, I'll wager.” Donald mutters, just as the woman in question walks in. 

Her coloring is more like Rosie’s than Regina’s. Her hair is a shade of red-brown and her skin, while not white like Rosie’s, is lighter than Regina’s olive tone. Her eyes are brown and seem to shimmer with her smile, which shifts a bit in question when she sees them. 

“Who's this, dear? You didn't mention we were having company.”

Before anyone can answer, Douglas grabs his brother’s arm and practically drags him from the room. 

“Donnie, come here.” He says as he drags him out into the hallway. “Do ye ken who that is in there?” 

Donald nods. “Aye. Do ye?” 

“O’ course I do! We didnae plan for this! How are we supposed tae just leave now?”

“We won't. Dougie, calm down and for christ’s sake, keep yer voice down!” Donald hisses back. 

“But then -” Douglas stops, breathes, and abruptly switches to Gàidhlig. 

“A bheil sinn toir an chaileagan an seo, ma-thà? Chan eil sàbhailte!” 

Donald answers in kind and the conversation continues in their native tongue until Regina and Cora step out of the kitchen, at which point they abruptly stop and turn to face them. 

“Is everything alright, you two?” Regina asks.

“Oh aye, it'll do.” Says Donald, but he doesn't take his eyes off his grandmother.

Later, while Regina is making dinner, they sneak off under the guise of setting the table and catch her alone. 

“Well.” Says Cora. They're standing at the far end of the dining room, voices low. “I take it you know more about me than I do about you, my dear grandsons.” 

Donald sneers as he paces 

“What's the matter? We've never even met.” Cora goes on. 

He spins around to face her then. “If ye were a man, I'd hit ye, but ye're no’ and I'll no’ hit a lady.” He tells her.

“She deserves a hell of a lot more than that.” Douglas growls, spinning to face her with his arms crossed. “Tell me, how the hell d’ye do it? Living here and lying tae yer own daughter every day like ye didnae almost kill yer own granddaughters? Hm?” 

She sighs. “Ah. So you met them, then? Are they. . .are they alright?”

“That's all you've got tae say for it? Are they alright? Aye, now. They were half dead when we found them and they did nothing but eat and sleep for months, are still sae weak they cannae hardly walk, but they're no’ deid if that's what ye're asking.” Donald has to work to keep his voice down now. 

She seems relieved. “Good. Now, I don't know what exactly they told you, but if you know them, you must know about magic -” 

It's Douglas, then, who lets out a humorless chuckle. “Here come the excuses, Donnie. This oughta be good.” 

Donald takes a step forward and leans an elbow on Douglas’ shoulder. “Tell us something good, then, lass.” 

She continued on right where she’d left off. “I didn't have my heart, then. Literally. But I do now, and I've changed.” 

“Oh aye?” The boys raise identical eyebrows. “Sae, if ye saw them again, ye wouldnae be a threat? Ye wouldnae harm them?” 

She shakes her head. “Never again. I punished them for crimes they didn't commit and things they had no control over. I won't forgive myself for it and I certainly don't expect forgiveness from them, but you have my word that no more harm will come to them by my hand - or my magic.” 

They look at each other and back at her. They can tell by the look in her eyes that she's being truthful, but they can't just trust her like that, can they? 

“We’ll hold ye to that, ye ken. Ye even look at them funny and ye’ll find yerself quite closely acquainted with the blade o’ my dirk.” Donald threatens. He pulls the dirk in question from his belt as if to show he isn't bluffing. It has a nasty 12 inch blade set in a hilt of dark wood and uncertain origins to match its owner. He holds it up for a good look.

“Ye wouldnae like that, would ye?” He asks. 

Cora smirks at his protectiveness. “Now now. I gave you my word, there's no need for violence.” 

Douglas looks up from inspecting his own dirk. “We’ll leave that decision in yer hands, I think. Ye hurt them, we hurt you. Aye?” 

“A reasonable deal.” She agrees. 

                                                      o0o

It's weird to eat without first seeing their sisters fed. 

They've called them a couple times throughout the day to check on them, including once just before dinner to make sure they have something - they had left plenty within easy reach, but they want to be sure - but they can't shake the anxiety. 

They've never been away from Eva and Leah since they met and they haven't been away from Rosie since their reunion with her. The idea of their sisters, still so small and frail, being alone all day makes them uneasy. It would be too easy for something bad to befall them all alone in the engine cab. 

It doesn't help when their mother insists they stay the night. They don't have an excuse that doesn't involve their sisters and they don't want to disappoint her, so they agree. 

She smiles so brightly when they do. Maybe, they think, she's always longed for more children to fill this big empty house. 

There are three empty bedrooms upstairs. One of them, they notice, is very clearly decorated for a little princess. 

Douglas looks at her quizzically. “I thought ye said yer adoptive kid was a lad?” 

“He is.” She replies. “That's his room there.” She points to the door at the end of the hall. 

Donald frowns. “Whose is this, then?” 

She doesn't respond right away, just staring into the unoccupied room. 

“Several years after I had you, I had a little girl. Your father wouldn't let me keep her, because he didn't want another daughter to overshadow his daughter with his first wife. So he took her from me and sent her through the stones. I tried to find her when I came here, that's why this is here.” 

They glance at each other. Clearly, they think, she's referring to Rosie. 

“What did she look like?” They ask, certain.

“She was perfect. She had this shock of red hair and her eyes were bright blue, not dark like newborns usually have. Her skin was white, I thought she was sick at first, but she kicked and screamed so strongly, I knew she was fine.” She smiles tearfully, remembering. “I don't suppose I'll ever find her. I don't even know if she's still alive.”

The boys squeeze her hands in comfort. “I wouldnae be so certain, lass.” 

They venture off into one of the other rooms then and once she's gone, they call their sisters. 

Rosie's a bit upset when they tell her they're spending the night, and asks them if they're ever going to come back. They respond, voices low and comforting.

“Och, lass, o’ course. Dinnae fash, we’ll see ye in the morning. Would ye like tae meet our mam?” 

Chapter Text

When Regina wakes up the next morning, the first thing she does is check on her boys. They had insisted on sharing a room, even though there are two empty guest rooms (excluding the one decorated for a little princess), and she had peeked in on them in the night to see them peacefully asleep with their backs pressed together in the middle of the spacious bed.

Now, however, the bed is empty and they are nowhere to be found on the second floor. She dresses and heads downstairs, but they're not there either. Only her mother sits in the kitchen, a cup of coffee for company. 

“Have you seen the boys, mother?” Regina asks, without so much as a good morning. 

She's still only known them for less than 24 hours, but the idea of losing them again makes her stomach drop. She rests a hand there. There is a void in her womb for each of her lost babies, even the ones who’s existences had ended in nothing but blood and pain. The one for them had filled with seeing them alive and well, but now she can feel it opening again, for she fears it had been nothing but a dream. 

“I saw them sneaking out when I got up. I'm sure they'll be back, darling.” Cora responds calmly. 

“Did they say where they were going?” She asks back, trying to keep her voice steady.

Cora takes a sip of coffee. “I don't think they saw me. I'm sure they just went to check something.” She says. “Or get something.” She adds vaguely. 

“Like what?” Regina presses, anxious.

Cora smiles as she gets up to pour her daughter some coffee. “Oh, I think they have a trick or two up their sleeves, dear. Don't worry.” 

And they do come back, then. It's a while later when the two women hear the front door open and hushed voices in the foyer. 

Regina is out there like a shot. Douglas turns around when he hears her and opens his mouth to speak, but she beats him to it.

“Where have you been?! I thought you'd left!” 

Douglas grimaces a bit at the clear look of distress on her face and comes forward, placing his warm hands on her shoulders. 

“Woah, lass. Take it easy. We had something we needed tae do, that's all.”

“Like what? And where's Douglas?” She asks, immediately worried when she doesn't see the other twin. 

Her son smirks. “Douglas is standing right in front o’ ye. Donald is just there.” He points out the open door, where his brother is standing on the porch, off to one side with his back to them so she can't tell what he's doing.

“What's he doing out there? He’ll catch a chill.” She tries to get around Douglas but he blocks her path. 

“Now, we brought ye a wee gift, but ye must be patient.” He says, moving her back a step. “Donnie, ye can come in now.” He calls over his shoulder.

Donald turns and steps inside, closing the door behind him. He has a tartan wrapped bundle in his arms and she thinks she can see a little white hand resting against his chest. 

“What is this?” She asks.

Donald comes a bit closer. “Ye said ye had another bairn after us, a wee lass with hair red as flame and eyes blue as the sea. Well -” he pulls back the tartan to reveal a little girl tucked up against him. “We thought that description awfully matched that o’ our wee sister. So. This is our Rosie.” 

She gasps and her mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, which is quickly covered by her hand as tears fill her eyes. “How - you - this world is so big, how did you -”

Because even then, as she stares at the little girl in her eldest son’s arms, with no proof but their words, she knows this is her baby girl. The little princess who was ripped from her arms and stolen away by someone who should have protected her. 

Douglas smiles as he moves so his shoulder brushes Donald’s and he strokes a stray curl from Rosie’s face. “We came through the same stones, however several years apart. It was by chance that she was placed in the same home we were. We knew, if only from blankets made by the same hands, that she was our blood.”

Donald chuckles, almost tearful. “Fought at every turn tae stay wi’ her. Protect her. Maybe she would ha’ been adopted by a good family if we had let her go, but we couldnae forget the way we ne’er were.” He took Rosie’s little white hand in his, gently prying it open and massaging the palm before letting it close around his fingers. “Come say hello, then. She's a bit shy, but she kens who ye are.” 

She takes a few steps forward and reaches out a hand to cup Rosie’s cheek as tears wet her own.

“Hello there, my princess.” She says, and laughs wetly. “You are just as I imagined you.” 

Rosie presses her face against her brother’s chest, rather shyly and peeks up at her with one big blue eye, but doesn't speak. 

Donald cuddles her gently to him. “What d’ye think, a phiuthar? This is our mam.” 

“Mam. . .” Rosie breathes, turning so both her lovely eyes focus on Regina. “Hello. Does this mean ye want us?” 

Regina lets out a sob. “Oh baby, I always did. It was your father who didn't.” 

Rosie’s little nose wrinkles. “Aye.” She says. “Da’s are mean.” 

Regina frowns at the response and looks at the boys. Douglas speaks, hand cupping his little sister’s. 

“Och, lass. Good da’s aren’t mean. A good da’ loves ye, juist like a good mam does.” 

Rosie thinks on this for a moment. “I dinnae ken any good da’s.” She says at last. “Donnie, can I go down?” 

“Aye, lass.” He kisses her red curls and sets her down. 

Very carefully, she smoothes her dress - green plaid with a black bow at the waist, black sleeves and a matching bow in her hair - and looks up at Regina. 

“Do ye like my dress? Donnie n’ Dougie got it for me so’s I could look bonnie tae meet ye.” 

Regina laughs and kneels down to her daughter’s height. “It's beautiful, dear. I love it almost as much as I love you.” 

This gives Rosie pause. She stares up at Regina with wide eyes. “Ye. . .ye love me?”

Regina's heart breaks a bit. “Oh baby, yes. Of course I do. I never stopped.” 

She pulls Rosie into a hug then. Rosie gasps in surprise, little fisted hands held awkwardly on either side of her. She can’t remember ever being hugged by anyone other than her siblings, and maybe, there is a vague recollection of being hugged by an island woman right before leaving to never return. 

She wiggles free after a moment, sweet face pulled into a frown. “Do ye love Donnie n’ Dougie too? I dinnae want ye love me if ye dinnae love them too.” 

The twins in question make sounds of discomfort and shift forward. “Rosie -” 

“Of course I do.” Regina says, certain, before the boys can finish. She looks up at them, smiling. “Even if I can't tell them apart and they wander off without a word of warning.” 

The boys gasp in false indignance at this and Rosie giggles, brightening. 

“I can tell them apart! I ken the secret how.” She says to Regina. 

Regina smiles. “Oh, you do? What would that be?” 

Rosie stretches up on her toes and Regina bends down so the girl can whisper in her ear. 

Oh, I see. Their voices, is it? I'll keep that in mind.” Regina tells her conspiratorially. 

The boys pretend to look put out at their sister’s sudden betrayal. “Och, lass, ye tellt our secret! Now we’ll ne’er be able tae do the switch trick on her!” 

                                                      o0o

Regina can't take her eyes off her children for the whole rest of the day. She's afraid that if she does they'll disappear, that this is all too good to be true. 

So instead, they make shortbread. It's a simple recipe, requiring only butter, brown sugar, flour and vanilla, and makes a pliable dough easy for little hands to manage. Then, she discovers Rosie has never made cookies before, or at least not that she can remember.

“We havenae made biscuits since. . .Eriskay, and Rosie was only wee then. Do ye remember that, lass?” Says Donald. 

Rosie frowns a bit and clings tightly to her brother. “Goodbye.” She mumbles shyly. “And then. . .b-bad.” 

Donald strokes a hand over her red curls and cuddles her to him. 

“What does she mean?” Regina asks, not liking the way her daughter has suddenly gone clingy and withdrawn. 

They don't answer right away. Donald whispers gently to Rosie in that rugged, wild tongue she’s heard them use before and Douglas measures out a cup of flour to add to the bowl. 

“Ah, well.” He says eventually. “We met Rosie in Inverness, jus’ a few days auld, still wi’ the stub o’ her cord attached and the hazy dark eyes of a newborn. No’ long after we were all three moved to a home on Skye. From there, we spent the next four years bouncing around the islands.”

“We liked that fine.” Donald puts in. “When we weren't in school or helping around the crofts, our foster fathers would take us out on their trawlers, sayin’ that real men go tae sea tae provide for their families. We didnae mind that either. Miles better than the dirty auld city anyway.”

“The home in Eriskay was the last. It was a good home. They even wanted tae adopt us, I think, they didnae have any bairns o’ their own. We dinnae ken what happened. I suppose it wasnae tae be. They moved us back tae the mainland then, and we cannae even say they put us in a wee town. They dumped us straight intae Glasgow from Eriskay.” Douglas continues, before Donald butts in again.

“At that point we hadnae been anywhere bigger than Stornoway since Inverness over four years previously, so that was really verra rude o’ them.” 

“Ruder still was the state o’ the home they put us in there. We weren't there verra long, maybe a month at most, but it was the last home we were in wi’ Rosie. She was taken and we didnae see her again until aboot a year ago.” Douglas finishes. 

“The nature o’ the separation made us think she might ha’ been dead, and if not dead than certainly somewhere awful.” Donald mutters, holding his little sister close, safe. 

Regina's hands clench in the ball of dough. “How so?” She’d find whoever hurt them and make them pay.

“Maybe another time, lass. ‘Tis no’ something we like tae talk aboot and we wouldnae wish tae upset Rosie by dredging it up. It's more her story than ours.” Says Douglas, tone suggesting not to push it. 

She accepts this. Rosie already looks stressed by the mention of the past, they all do. “Then. . .that family who was going to adopt you. If they had, you wouldn't have been separated. You could have been happy with them. Do you know why they didn't?” 

Donald lifts Rosie up onto a bar stool so she can help cut out the cookies. “No’ at the time, no. But now we ken it was because we needed tae be at a certain place at a certain time, tae do a certain thing. We couldnae ha’ been at that place at that time to do that thing if we had stayed on Eriskay.” 

Regina looks skeptical. “What sort of thing?” 

The boys think of their other two sweet sisters, who would surely have died, frozen at the foot of the cleft stone. “If we had been adopted, we'd no’ have been there, and then innocent lives would have been lost.” 

Regina wants to ask more, but she can tell they're not willing to elaborate, so she keeps quiet, turning to Rosie instead.  

“Which shapes would you like to cut out, dear?” She asks, spreading out the cookie cutters on the counter. There are stars, snowflakes, a simple saw-edged rectangle and a similarly edged circle. 

“Mm.” Rosie hums, happy with the change of subject. “This one.” 

She selects a six-pointed star. Going to pick it up, her palm unfolds but her fingers stay curled and she fumbles and struggles to get a hold of it. 

“Uh. Donnie, help?” She says, looking up at him adorably with her big blue eyes. 

“Aye. That was a good try, lass.” He says, as he takes her hand and opens it fully, massaging palm and delicate little fingers before giving her the cutter to hold on to. 

Regina frowns as she watches. She'd noticed the way Rosie held her hands fisted up and had thought nothing of it at first, but now it seems there's more to it. 

Douglas must notice the look on her face then, because he speaks. “She's no’ verra dexterous.”

“I noticed. Her hands seem awfully stiff, what's the matter with them? Not an injury, surely.” She replies. 

Douglas watches his siblings for a long moment before answering. “No’ exactly. When she was. . .away fro’ us, the people she was wi’ kept her hands bound up wi’ duck tape so she couldnae move them for the entire time she was there. By the time she escaped and managed tae chew it off, they were all seized up.” 

Regina is horrified. “And this was a foster home?!” 

Douglas shakes his head. “No. It wasnae. We dinnae ken where it was, only that it was a place where they dinnae like wee lassies who fight.” 

He doesn't mention the car in the alley behind the house in Glasgow, or the bag full of money, or the blood on the skirt of Rosie’s nightdress when they'd found her. He knows it'll break her heart if he does and he knows it'll break his if he has to say it out loud. 

“I'm sure ye can imagine places. We certainly did.” He adds lowly. 

She can. Tears bubble up and overflow at the images her traitorous mind conjures. 

“My baby.” She cries, covering her mouth with her hands. “My poor baby.” 

Douglas moves over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Aye.” He says. “I'm sorry.” 

She looks at him. “Whatever for? It's not your fault.” 

He shakes his head. “She didnae come tae us at only a few days auld for nothing. Scotland might be small, but it's no’ that small. We could ha’ gone all our lives wi’oot ever meeting. We were meant tae protect her and we failed. In a way then, we-we failed ye too.” 

Regina turns around, hands tightening in his sleeves. “No, that's not true, Douglas. She was never your responsibility, not when you were only children yourselves.”

“Aye, but she was. Still is, always will be.” 

Donald comes up beside them then, having left Rosie cutting out cookies. “We heard a song once, when she was gone and we were aching, and the only thing tae ease that pain was more pain.” He closes his eyes, remembering the lyrics. “She is the sunlight, the sun is gone. If loving her is heartache for me, if holding her means that I have to bleed.” 

“She is the healing, and I am the pain. Aye, I remember.” Douglas adds. “She is the healing to our pain and the sun to our storm.” 

                                                      o0o

Rosie stands, staring at the room that was meant for her. She can't believe it - a room fit for royalty, with her name on the door. Her eyes travel from the pale purple canopy bed to the darker purple shag rug below. The furniture is all white to match the gauzy white curtains and stand out against the purple walls. There are shelves of books and toys, never touched, and a closet full of brand new clothes. Her lips part in a gasp as she looks, spotting a big, white teddy bear on the bed. 

“‘Tis for me?” She asks, voice soft. 

Regina nods, smiling. “Yes, dear. Do you like it? We can change it if you don't.”

Poor Rosie doesn't know what to think. She raises her fisted hand to her mouth as if she wants to suck her thumb, even though she's rather too old for that. 

Donald sees how overwhelmed she looks and kneels down to her level. “It's verra nice, isnae it? A bonnie room for a bonnie wee lass, aye?” He says, gently. 

“Aye.” Rosie replies. “Tha e glè bhreagha.” She agrees, even as she defaults back to her native tongue. 

He takes her hand then, and leads her into the room. “Should we have a closer look, d’ye think?” 

She looks around tentatively before turning back to Regina. “Do Donnie and Dougie get a nice room too?” She asks.

“Oh, well -” She starts, suddenly feeling bad that their room isn't decorated like her’s is. 

“Oh aye.” Douglas cuts in. “It's no’ as fancy as this, but it's still the nicest room we've probably ever had, eh Donnie?” 

Donald nods in agreement. “Dinnae fash about that, lass.” He says, unsure as to whether it's directed to his mother or his sister. 

“Okay.” Says Rosie, relaxing a bit. 

She walks around the room, looking and touching as if she wants to commit it all to memory. She picks up the big white bear off the bed and buries her face in its soft fur. 

“I used tae have a teddy bear when I was wee, but I dinnae ken what happened to him.” She says when she looks up. “‘Tis for me?” She asks again.

Regina comes in and kneels in front of her. “Yes, sweetheart, this is all for you.” She tells her. 

Then, Rosie does something none of them expect her to do. Still grasping the teddy bear by its arm, she throws her own arms around Regina. Her mother hugs her back, tucking her little red head under her chin and brushing the pad of her thumb over her daughter’s pale cheek. 

“My little princess, you're home safe now.” 

Chapter Text

It's late, well after the rest of the house has gone to sleep, when Donald and Douglas slip out for the second time. Using the age-old trick of tying their bedsheets together, they climb out their window. When they return some time later, it's with a very sleepy Eva and Leah in tow.

Then, in the morning, they wait until they can hear their mother awake in her room to creep down the stairs and into the living room. There's a big Christmas tree in front of the window, decorated elegantly in white and gold. The boys don't fail to notice that there are rather more gifts under it than there had been the previous day or that there are three extra stockings lined up over the fireplace alongside the first one. 

Rosie stares up at the one with her name on it in swirly gold lettering while Donald and Douglas sit Eva and Leah down in front of the tree. They each wear a new dress similar to Rosie’s with matching bows in their hair. Eva's is in purple while Leah's in blue, as both girls had vehemently refused to wear red, even after the boys had explained to them that it was a popular Christmas color. 

“There, now ye stay there, awright?” Donald tells them as Douglas adjusts their bows. 

They don't seem too thrilled about this plan, though. 

“Dinnae leave.” Leah whispers, gripping Douglas’ sleeve tightly. 

They had told the girls of their grandmother’s presence before bringing them, and it had served only to make them more nervous. Although, they must have wanted to meet their mother, since they hadn't refused to come. 

“Dinnae fash, ye two. We wilnae go far.” They promise. 

A few minutes later, their mother catches them lingering suspiciously at the bottom of the stairs, trying to look casual. 

“What are you three doing there?” She asks, eyebrow raised. 

The boys shift and glance subtly at each other. “Er, nothing.” 

“Nothing at all.” 

Regina narrows her eyes. “I see.” She says, looking between them. 

Rosie giggles behind her hands. “We didnae do nothing! Only got -” 

Donald grabs her and tickles her silly before she can give the entire thing away. “What did we tell ye aboot telling secrets, lassie?” 

“No! No!” She squeals as she tries to escape the sudden tickle attack. 

When she does, she runs away into the living room, still laughing. 

Regina turns to her boys, one eyebrow raised. “What did you do?” 

“I dinnae ken what ye mean, lass.” Says Donald, but they're both grinning too broadly for it to possibly be believable. 

In the living room, they can hear Rosie talking, which makes Regina frown. 

“Who's she talking to in there?” 

“What? I dinnae hear any talking.” Says Douglas, but he can barely keep his face straight.  

“You're hiding something.” 

The boys lean against the wall, still grinning. “If we were hiding something we'd be stopping ye from going in there, wouldn't we?” 

They have her there. She walks down the hall to the living room with them trailing knowingly behind her. 

“Rosie?” She calls as she steps in, and then she freezes. All the breath she has escapes in a sharp gasp and she stands in the doorway, lips parted and eyes wide. There is a moment in which she turns to them, as if in slow motion, eyes questioning like she wants to speak. 

And then she faints. 

“Woah, shite!” Douglas hisses

The slow motion seems to speed up into near timelapse as he, closer, closes the distance between them and catches her before she hits the ground, all in one fluid motion. 

He lowers her to the floor and they kneel beside her, and it's different, they note, than it had been with them, or with Rosie. But then, Eva and Leah are the daughters of the man she had loved, her last piece of him thought lost, and maybe she had seen him in them and known. 

A few minutes later, when Regina comes to, she finds herself laying on the floor surrounded by five concerned faces. 

“Are ye awright, lass? Christ, maybe we should ha’ sat ye down and then brought them in.” Says Donald. 

“I'm fine.” She replies, sitting up and looking around as if to make sure everyone is accounted for - or maybe she's just looking for the two little faces she's sure she’d imagined. 

Her eyes lock onto them, climbing around Donald like little monkeys. They pause and peer at her shyly from behind their brother. 

“Did-did I hit my head?” Regina asks, touching her head carefully. This can't be real. They can't be here - they're dead. Logically speaking, none of them should be here. 

“No.” Says Donald. “Dougie caught ye.” 

“Aye.” Douglas confirms, sitting against the wall on the other side of her. “I dinnae think I've moved that fast since. . .” Since he'd found Donald cut too deep and only half-conscious, bleeding out from his own self-inflicted wounds, he thinks darkly. Nothing has ever scared him more than that. 

“Since we found the wee lassies frozen stiff and half dead at the stones, I'll bet.” Donald supplies. Clearly, he knows just what unpleasant memory has cropped up in his brother’s mind. 

“They came through the stones too?” Regina asks. The boys nod, and she chokes on a sob. “My mother lied to me. They weren't stillborn.” 

“Aye, ye're right aboot that.” Says Douglas. “But she didnae send them through the stones. They went through o’ their own accord, when they were older.”

Regina turns to the twin girls, surprised. “You did? Why?”

They have tucked themselves comfortably into Donald's lap and are playing with each other's long hair. 

“Aye.” Says Eva, quietly.

“We wanted to be away.” Leah adds. “And the stones are good for that.” 

Regina frowns. “The stones. Is that why your ages are all wrong?” She asks, realizing.

They should really all be older than they apparently are. Donald and Douglas look to be about seventeen or so. Eva and Leah, who should be a year older than them, don't look older than Rosie, who's definitely under ten. 

For her, including the curse, they had all been born decades ago.

Taking a closer look at Eva and Leah, all beautiful black curls, brown and blue mix-matched eyes and pale skin, she notices how tiny they are. How thin and frail and boney they are. There's nothing to them. Her heart breaks. If they are older than Rosie, then Rosie is certainly more robust. 

“I ken what yer thinkin’.” Says Donald, having seen the look on her face as her eyes train on the girls. “The girls dinnae look their ages. Eva and Leah are aboot twelve. They've had a verra rough go. Rosie is nine.”

All three are undersized. For Rosie, it's not so bad. For Eva and Leah, it's rather more severe. 

“Aye.” Douglas agrees. “They're getting stronger all the time, though. We documented their improvement on our phone - it was incredible.” The boys had one phone between them, which they had saved up for after taking in the girls, as a safety precaution.

“But yer right about the stones.” Donald went on. “They cast us forward through time, as well as space. That's what Eva and Leah said, anyway.” He looks down at his sisters and cuddles them close. “That's right, no, mo peathraichean?” 

Eva nods, looking between him and their mother. “The time we landed in was not parallel to the one we left, in the realm we left.”

“We - all of us in three different trips - landed in three different times decades ahead of the ones we left.” Leah adds, and they so love to talk of magic. “Donnie and Dougie, and Rosie landed eight years apart, but still decades ahead of the time they left, so their age gap stayed as it was. But Eva and I, the stones dropped us in a time where Donnie and Dougie are older than us, so they could find and care for us. Otherwise, we would almost surely have died.” 

“No’ just that.” Donald put in, half to his mother, half to his sisters. “Ye came at a time when we needed ye just as much as ye needed us.” He says, pressing kisses to their dark curls. 

Regina, meanwhile, sits taking all this in, until a thought strikes her. 

“The thing.”

“Pardon?” Douglas frowns. His siblings look similarly confused. 

“Yesterday, you said you weren't adopted because you needed to be at a certain place, at a certain time, to do a certain thing.” She explains. “It was them, wasn't it? Finding them at the stones?”

“Aye.” 

“Aye, ‘twas. And if we went back wi’ the knowin’ o’ what would happen and were given the choice, we'd choose them every time. Their lives are worth more than any potential happiness in an adoptive family and every bit o’ hardship we had tae go through tae get tae them.” 

There is a pause.

Regina lets out a sob and wipes at her tears. The boys inch closer. 

“Och, lass. We didnae mean -” 

Before they can finish, she drags them into a bone-crushing hug with the girls squeezed between them. “My sweet boys, I love you.” 

“We love ye too, mam. E’en if we just met ye.” They reply. 

She pulls back, hands on their arms. “Do you know what you are?”

They look back quizzically. “Er, human?” 

She laughs. “Selfless. And brave, and so so true. Everything your father never was.” 

Their cheeks go pink with the praise. “We try.” They say. 

Several minutes later, Cora comes down the stairs to find them all still there, embracing and somewhat fawning over the girls. She frowns.

“What are you all doing on the floor? We have chairs, you know. Not to mention that big sofa I can see from here.” She says.

Eva and Leah stiffen, their blood turning to ice. They push away from Regina, try to push away from their brothers and likely would have run from the house entirely had they the ability. As it is, they stumble on unsteady legs in their effort and fall, to be caught by their brothers. 

“Dinnae fash, a phiuthar. Tha sinn an seo. Tha thu sàbhailte.” Donald speaks, switching to Gaelic as he does. 

Eva clings to him and he wraps his arms protectively around her, smoothing his hands over her soft curls and rocking her gently. She whimpers and reaches out a bony hand. 

“Mo phiuthar.” She wants Leah. “Mo phiuthar!” She cries, curled into a tense little ball in Donald's lap. 

“Tha Leah ceart gu leòr.” He responds, but then switches back to English when he sees Regina looking confused and worried. “Dougie has her, she's safe, lass. Dinnae fash.” 

This is true. Douglas shifts over to sit beside his brother with Leah in his lap. The girls immediately reach for each other and latch hands, seeking comfort in their other half.  

Regina stares between her daughters and her mother. “What's wrong? Are they alright?”

“I dinnae ken.” Says Douglas. He and Donald glare daggers at Cora.

“Are they?” Donald says to Cora, his voice laced with both the heat of a challenge and the icy drought of a threat.

“Of course.” She responds. “I gave you my word, did I not?” 

They both get to their feet with the girls still in arm and stand to meet her eyes, testing. 

“I dinnae believe yer word is worth an awful lot.” Douglas grinds out. “If ye want us tae trust it, then give us reason.” 

Perhaps to everyone's shock then, Cora backs down. 

“I'll put breakfast on, shall I?” 

“Aye, ye do that.” 

Neither of the boys move until she's disappeared into the kitchen. As she goes, Rosie peeks out from behind her brothers, eyes narrowed. They have told her about what their grandmother had done to Eva and Leah, and she's none too pleased that her sisters have to deal with seeing her again in order to meet their mother. 

Under her breath, she mutters something unpleasant in the Gàidhlig. 

                                                    o0o

“I want you to tell me what that was about.”

They are back in the living room now, Cora out of earshot in the kitchen, and Regina stands facing the boys with her arms crossed. Donald and Douglas stare back, still on guard. 

“I dinnae ken what ye mean, lass.” Says Donald. There's a note of finality in his voice, but she ignores it.

“Yes you do. You've been giving her the cold shoulder since you got here. You've only known her for a couple days and you're acting as if she's eaten your porridge! You've never even met her before!” She exclaims, and then stops as a horrible thought enters her mind. “Have you?” 

“We havenae.” Says Douglas. He motions to Eva and Leah, still clinging to their brothers. The boys had tried to set them down on the sofa, but the girls had refused to let go of them. “They have.” 

“W-what? When?” Regina questions. She remembers the looks of terror on her daughters’ faces when her mother had walked in. “What did she do?” She asks lowly. 

The boys move around to sit down and settle their sisters in their laps, cuddling them and rubbing soothing circles over their backs. 

“Fine.” Says Donald. “But he wilnae like it, so dinnae say we didnae warn ye.” 

Regina sits with them. “Tell me. I need to know.” 

So they do, explaining about Wonderland, about finding the girls half frozen, starved and beaten at the stone circle. By the end, she is crying, heartbroken all over again. Eva and Leah finally let go of their brothers and crawl into her lap instead, resting their heads on her chest. She hugs them tight. 

“Dinnae cry, mama. Donnie ‘n Dougie saved us. They see us warm and fed and safe. We're okay now.” They say, and they speak in the most adorable mix of Scots and an unfamiliar accent she assumes comes from Wonderland. 

This only makes her cry harder. “Oh, my babies. I love you.” She cups their cheeks in her hands as they look up at her. “You are so beautiful, did you know that?”

Leah giggles shyly. “Aye. We used to think we were no’, but D ‘n D say we're bonnie. You think so too?” 

Regina sobs. “Of course I do. You are so perfect.” She wipes at her eyes then and moves to get up, shifting the girls off her lap. “I need to speak to my mother. I'll be back -” 

Douglas stops her with a hand on her arm. “Dinnae fash aboot that now, mam. Ye can take her out behind the woodshed later if it suits ye, but for now, we should focus on the girls. ‘Tis Eva and Leah's first proper Christmas and Rosie’s last one was when she was three. They deserve a verra special one now, dinnae ye think?” 

She does, and so she settles back down and they open gifts and have breakfast, and then they spend the rest of the day together, getting to know each other better and playing with the girls. 

By that evening, Eva and Leah are worn out. Freshly bathed, they doze peacefully as Donald and Douglas brush and plait their lovely, long, dark hair. 

When Regina peeks in, the sight melts her heart. She still can't get over how gentle her boys are with their sisters, they clearly adore them; and are very used to doing the caregiving. 

They look up and she smiles as she steps into the room. “Who taught you to braid?” 

It takes them a minute to register the unfamiliar term before Douglas speaks. “One of the foster homes we were in had four biological daughters. We were their first foster kids and they didnae have any boy stuff yet, so we just played wi’ the girls. They liked tae play dolls and insisted on teaching us how tae plait their hair.” He explains. 

Regina can't stop herself from chuckling at the image of the two wild highlanders playing dolls with a bunch of little girls. 

“What's sae funny?” Donald asks as she comes over and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“I just can't quite imagine you playing with dolls.” She says, and runs a hand along the long black plait of Eva's hair. Eva sighs sleepily, one eye cracking open. “You have such beautiful hair, my love.” She adds softly. 

Donald smiles. “They do. Is Rosie in bed, then?” 

“Yes. We’ll see if she stays in her own bed tonight.” 

“Aye.” Douglas agrees. “Though ye cannae blame the lass. We're used tae sleeping all together in one room.” He says, thinking of their nest of blankets in the engine cab. “Here.” He goes on, maneuvering Leah in his lap. “Why dinnae ye take Leah and tell her goodnight?” 

Leah blinks, jolted awake by the movement. She yawns, face against the crook of her brother’s neck, and tries to keep her eyes open. 

Regina takes her and cradles her head against her chest, stroking her thumb over her cheek and kissing her forehead. Leah finds her hand and clutches it to her chest. “We wanted you for so long, but we couldnae have you. . .” She breathes tiredly. “G’ night, mama.” 

Regina sniffles tearfully at that and presses her nose into her sweet girl’s hair. “I dreamed of you.” She looks up. “All of you. And when I woke, my heart would break all over again, for I felt your loss again as if it were fresh.” 

But here they are, all five of the babies she’d carried to term but still were lost to her, here and whole and home