Work Text:
Did you really think I wouldn't notice?
Bridget noticed the difference immediately. Ever since Pink's first day at Auradon Prep, she's known something was off with Red. Specifically, she knew the Red she was seeing now was not the Red she raised.
Not because her eldest daughter suddenly didn't like dresses and bows anymore, but because she wasn't pretending she did anymore.
What struck her most, though, was the way she treated Pink — with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. Instead of delighting in being the big sister, like she always had, of sharing secrets and following each other everywhere — to the point that she'd begged for days, two years ago, to not go to Auradon just yet, to be allowed to wait until Pink was old enough —, she now looked at her like a stranger. Pink noticed it, too, and the sadness and loss in her eyes as they said goodbye is what most shattered Bridget's heart.
It's also how she knew, immediately and without the slightest hint of a doubt, that this Red was not her Red.
Not that she loves her any less. Red is her daughter, doppelganger or not. And despite the changes, she feels, deep in her bones, that Red is still Red.
Only different.
So when Red stands between her and Maddox, looks her in the eye, and says "it's true, Mom", it doesn't come as a surprise. Rather, it's the logical conclusion to all her observations.
***
"Mom?"
There's a softness, a hesitation in Red's tone, almost as if she's not sure she's still allowed to say the word. Bridget tears her eyes away from the garden and moves to the side to make space on the small balcony, opening her arm to welcome her. Red takes the outstretched hand and lets herself be pulled into the hug, but she feels tense, rigid, as she leans against her mother.
"What is it, Sweetheart?"
Red breaks from the embrace and takes a step back. Her eyes drift towards the garden, towards the maze and the rose bushes. She seems unable to look at her mother, while Bridget just can't take her eyes off her, taking in every detail, every nervous hitching of her breath and twitch of her fingers. She longs to hug her, to fix what's broken, to ease her daughter's burden, but she knows she can't rush her. Whatever it is that this version of Red has been through, she's not quite ready to open up about it yet. Her trust, her confidence, her belief in herself are fragile, and Bridget knows very well that one wrong move could destroy the fragile balance that she's trying to find.
So she doesn't reach out for her daughter; she merely watches her, and waits.
"I thought it would be a bigger deal to you", Red admits at last, still refusing to look at her. "The whole time-travel thing."
"Why should it? I've seen stranger things."
Red glances at her, a flash of surprise passing across her features at the serene, even response.
"Because… I'm not her! I'm not the girl you know, I don't like dresses or sparkles, and I definitely don't have a favourite bow. Heck, I hate bows! And all of a sudden I have friends, apparently, who all think they know me, but it's like they're seeing me through an upside-down mirror, and the people I want to be friends with think I despise them. I… I'm not an HK. I don't know how to be one."
Though her eyes have flickered towards Bridget every now and then during her rant, she seems to deflate after it, like a balloon, and her gaze returns resolutely to the gardens.
"You never liked bows in this timeline, either."
The corners of Red's lips twitch ever-so-slightly.
"I didn't?"
"You just let Pink think you did. Because it made her happy, and that was all you ever wanted."
All of a sudden, at the mention of her sister, Red tears up.
"I really dropped the ball with Pink", she admits softly.
"I know. But you're making it right, aren't you?"
"I'm trying. I have these memories, that feel like they should be mine but they aren't, and… It's all really confusing."
Bridget exhales softly. Red's sudden vulnerability is giving her a glimpse of how complex the situation is, for everyone involved. It won't be enough, she realises, to love her child no matter what timeline she's from. Adapting is going to be a long process — for Red, for Pink, for herself, for everyone else.
Tentatively, she reaches out, covering Red's hand with her own.
"Can you tell me how it is for you? Whose memories do you have? Whose feelings?"
"Mostly, mine — I mean, the Red from the previous timeline. I feel like… I have absolutely no idea about this Red's life. But sometimes, I get those flashes… Images, sounds, feelings. Most of the time, I can't really explain them. It's just… I'll see someone, and I get this feeling that I know them, that I love them, that I hate them, that I trust them or not. But I don't know why. And at the same time I have the new feelings— the old feelings— the feelings of the old me, the one who's only now getting to know all of these people. Sometimes it's even hard to tell the difference."
She sighs, and Bridget gently squeezes her hand.
"That must be really confusing", she agrees.
Red shrugs.
"Yeah."
"But Sweetheart, Red, you don't have to figure this out alone. Your friends are here for you. Your sister loves you more than anything in the world, and you can always come to me. It might take time, and that's okay, but we're going to figure this out, I promise."
"And what if… What if I can never be her?"
"No one is asking you to."
"Right."
"Not me, at the very least. You were shaped by entirely different experiences, of course you'll never be the same as you used to be. That doesn't mean I love you any less."
Red's eyes slowly drift back to her, and Bridget can't hold back a fond smile.
"Besides, you're more like her than you think."
The sound that escapes Red's lips is anything but convinced.
"Really. You care so much, and you're scared to disappoint. It's not your style or your friends that make you who you are."
She lifts her hand, carefully resting it over her daughter's heart. Red meets her gaze. There's still pain in her eyes, loss, confusion and fear, but there's also a newfound tenderness, and something brighter.
Hope.
"I love you, Mom."
***
Red doesn't talk much about the previous timeline. Bridget doesn't ask.
But she's not naive enough to think she was good, then.
It's the little things. The way Red said "I'm not an HK". The way she clearly relates more to Max and Hazel than to Luis and Robbie. Even her style, the way that she speaks, the way that she thinks.
Red was raised by a villain, and Bridget knows what that means.
Worst of all, though, is how similar she is to Max.
The stiffness.
The way she looks at her, like she still can't quite believe the mother she's seeing.
The way she reacts to any show of affection — like she doesn't know how to receive it.
She never talks about it, and Bridget never pushes.
That doesn't mean she's blind to it.
***
She didn't want to know. She's always refused to pry, because she would never have wanted to hear it from anyone but her daughter before she was ready.
But time and fate are unforgiving.
***
At first, they're just flashes.
I see you still haven't learnt to dress appropriately.
Every day, you find a new way to disappoint me.
Off with her head!
Love ain't it.
They happen without a warning, at any time of the day or night. When she's holding court, in the middle of a conversation, or alone in the privacy of her chambers. Nowhere is safe, and each one hurts more than the last.
She doesn't like the image they're building.
She learns to dread them.
She learns to live with them.
***
Then come the nightmares, and she starts missing the flashes. She'll wake up in the middle of the night, dread coursing through her veins, heart beating out of her chest with the force of the visions. They're not pretty, either. Usually, they involve someone losing their head. Once or twice, there's so much blood that she throws up upon waking up, barely making it to the bathroom before her stomach twists in disgust.
Like the night she sees Ella.
She doesn't want to believe it, but the signs are crystal clear. She did all those things. She killed people on a whim. The slightest hint of inconvenience was enough for her to order heads off.
There was a timeline in which she was the bloodthirsty, heartless monster.
She cries over it. A lot. Of course she knows it's not really her, and the person she is now can't be held responsible for the actions of her alternate self. She knows it, because that's what she wants to tell Red, too. But it's all so brutal, so horrifying, that she can't help but cry.
She withdraws into herself. People start to notice. She waves off their concern with a gentle smile.
"I'm fine, dear, thank you for asking."
***
The children come home for the holidays.
She pulls herself together, because she can't let them see it. Because it's not their job to carry her feelings. Especially not Red's, not when she finally looks like she's starting to adapt to the new timeline.
She and Pink are close again, not in the way that they were before, when they depended entirely on each other and never left each other's side, but in a new, gentle, yet no less strong way. Pink gives Red earrings and accessories to match her new style, while she herself stays true to her frills, bows and sparkles. Red is always the first to try Pink's new recipes, though you'll never find her in a kitchen. They're learning to be different, to like different things, and they don't care about each other any less for it.
Bridget is so proud of them.
Red is learning to navigate her new friendships, too. She and Chloe are inseparable once again, but Hazel has now also joined their duo, and Bridget knows from Ella that the three girls absolutely terrify Fairy Godmother with their strong opinions — once they put their mind to something, there's no stopping them. Their friends group has solidified after the Wonderland adventure, but the ten of them are rarely all together; instead, they do multiple things in smaller groups, with one, two, or three of their friends at once. They also have friends outside of the group.
Of course things are still hard sometimes, but all in all, it seems to Bridget the children are doing a very good job at building balanced and healthy friendships.
And that calls for celebration!
Winter holidays in Wonderland have always been Bridget's favourite, even when she was a little girl. Pink loves them, too, and Red used to, before the timeline change. Bridget secretly hopes this is one thing that hasn't changed.
The first days are spent putting up Christmas decorations and baking. They cover the castle in snowflakes, bright pink candy canes and colourful baubles. Red and Max work together to create a synthetic snow which they pour into spray paint cans, and Pink delights in spraying it all over the furniture.
In lieu of a Christmas tree, the Wonderland tradition calls for a mushroom, and Red insists on finding the one specific mushroom that startled Hazel when they first arrived in Wonderland. The search lasts an entire day, and even when they do find him, the shy mushroom requires some convincing, but eventually accepts the honour and they all return to the castle with it in tow. Max even talks it into letting him lean against it while Red takes a picture, and they send it to Hazel. Bridget is adamant she does not want to know the pirate's answer.
Baking too is a family affair. Pink and Bridget do most of the work; Red and Max help with decorating the first few Christmas cookies before turning it into a food fight, painting patterns in icing on each other's face, but Bridget is happy simply having them in the kitchen while she and Pink work.
That doesn't prevent her from insisting they be the ones to clean up the mess they made.
"I love you two and I'm glad you're having fun", she assures them, wrapping an arm around each of them and pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads in turn. "But you are old enough to clean up after yourselves."
The two of them give her a nod and a sheepish smile, and get to work. But Bridget hasn't missed the way they both tensed up for a millisecond when she touched them, or the look that passed between them before they agreed.
***
She feels horrible for admitting it, but coming from Max, it doesn't surprise her as much.
It still hurts, of course.
But what hurts more is how similar Red is to him.
***
"Dismissed."
The soldiers bow, and scurry away. The Queen pays them no mind. She stands from her throne and, quite certain there's no one left in the palace to watch her, storms down the corridors to the girl's room. She wrenches the door open, and for a moment, time freezes. Already halfway through the window, Red stares at her mother like a deer caught in headlights.
Bridget's lips tighten.
"Here", she says, pointing at the floor in front of her.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Red climbs back over the window sill and crosses the room to stand in front of her mother. Her shoulders square, but her head remains low, her gaze on the ground.
"No matter how hard I try to teach you", the Queen begins, in an icy voice that has no business being the tone of a mother to her child, "you just refuse to learn. Tell me, Red, why do I even bother?"
The girl stays quiet, and oh, she looks so small. So vulnerable and tiny, shrinking under her mother's cruel gaze.
"Answer me, Red."
The tone is dangerous.
"I— I don't know, Mother."
"You don't know?" she shrieks. "That's the issue with you, Red, you don't know! Oh, what dd I do to deserve such an ungrateful child", she adds, throwing her hands to the ceiling.
"I'm sorry, Mother."
"Everything I do is for your sake! All I've ever done is try to give you a bright future, can't you see? And this is how you thank me!"
"Mother—"
"Do you know how much I've suffered because of you? Can't you see everything I've sacrificed? You humiliate me constantly! You embarrass me in front of the court, in front of the Cards, in front of our people! But do I let you down? Of course not! I keep doing it in spite of you, because one day you'll see it was all for your own good. And then you have the nerve to call me a bad mother? Believe me, I'll be waiting for that day, the day you thank me and come crawling at my feet, apologizing for being this much of a brat!"
"Well maybe I wouldn't be so ungrateful if you didn't keep deciding for me without ever asking what I want!" Red finally snaps, then immediately looks horrified at her outburst when the Queen takes a step forward and grabs her wrist, towering over her and holding her into place with irresistible force.
"Oh, you always know better, don't you? Nothing I do is ever good enough for you?"
"Mother, I—"
The end of Red's sentence is lost in a grunt of pain as her mother shoves her to the side, hitting the board of her bed at an awkward angle. The Queen pulls out her deck of cards as she starts pacing the room slowly, never taking her eyes off her daughter, marking each step with a word.
"You are nothing, Red. Nothing but an embarrassment, unfit to carry the name of Hearts."
She shuffles the deck, and heavy boards appear in front of the window, blocking it.
"I'm doing this for your own good, Red."
She pockets the deck again. Red's eyes follow her pleadingly.
"Oh, and wipe that look off your face. A Hearts doesn't beg."
Without waiting for an answer, she turns and leaves the room. Before closing the door behind her, she turns back one last time.
"No dinner for you, Missy. And the servants will be forbidden from speaking to you for a week. Maybe that'll teach you."
Then she leaves for good, slamming the door behind her. The key turns in the lock, and Red is left alone.
***
The dread spreads through her body and has a chokehold on her heart before she can even fully realise that she's awake. She's known her alternate self never went easy on Red, but it's the first time she sees it this clearly, and the vision confirms her worst fears.
This isn't just tough parenting.
It's abuse.
She was abusive.
Oh, the poor thing. Everything she's been through— Fifteen years of that treatment— Fifteen years alone with that monster—
How dare anyone make her child hurt like that?
How can Red even look her in the eye? How can she laugh and joke about Christmas mushrooms like nothing ever happened? How could she drop everything to rescue Bridget the very second she was captured, after everything the Queen of Hearts did to her?
It wasn't me. She holds onto the thought like a lifeline. It might have been another version of herself, but it's not her. She would never dare to treat her children like that.
But someone did, someone that was somehow also her.
And now it's up to her to clean up the mess.
She knows she shouldn't, should wait until morning, but she can't bring herself to. Loving Red now, as herself, is something that she can do. It feels accessible, it gives her a purpose, a goal, and that's just what she needs now. So, her breathing still shaky, she slips out of bed and tiptoes down the hall to her daughter's room.
There's a faint ray of light under the door. Bridget pauses for a moment. As quietly as possible, she presses her ear to the door, but she hears nothing. After another moment of hesitation, she turns the handle, and opens the door, just a crack.
Red is sitting up in bed, her forehead pressed against her knees, her eyes closed. She's breathing slowly and deliberately, as if she's trying to get her emotions back under control. But when the door creaks, revealing Bridget's presence, she jumps out of her skin, and casts her a look that's so similar to her deer-in-the-headlights look from the vision that Bridget's heart shatters all over again.
"It's okay, Sweetheart", she whispers, her throat tight. "I'm not her."
Red's eyes soften a little, and Bridget takes it as an invitation to take another step inside the room, closing the door behind her.
"You get them too, then?" Red asks.
Her mother nods, because she doesn't trust herself to speak.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
"Oh, Red, no. You have nothing to apologize for."
With careful steps, watching her daughter's reactions all along, she crosses the distance between them and sits on the side of the bed. Red doesn't move towards her, but she also doesn't flinch, which Bridget decides is a good sign.
"If anything, I'm sorry, for everything you had to endure."
"S'okay", Red mumbles, not meeting her gaze. "It wasn't you, not really. You'd never. I know that."
"Of course not. But that doesn't mean it's easy, living with someone who's got the exact face of your abuser."
The words come out slightly choked. Red's eyes snap towards for the briefest moment, then she looks away again. She shakes her head.
"It wasn't—"
"Abuse? But it was, Sweetheart. And you deserved better than that. Forbidding the servants from speaking to you?"
Red shrugs.
"Yeah, it was one of her favourites. The silent treatment. Without Maddox, I—"
She breaks off, and once again, Bridget's heart clenches. She stays quiet, unsure what to say. It's harder to find the words when Red mentions Maddox. For her, he was a friend, a mentor, a protector — nothing like the relentless villain of this timeline. Bridget can't begin to imagine how it must feel.
"You don't have her face", her daughter breathes out eventually, breaking the tense silence between them.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't. Not really. Your eyes, your smile… She didn't smile. Or, only when she had someone's head. Not like you smile when… When you look at us", she ends in a barely audible whisper.
"Oh, Red."
Bridget opens her arms, and realises with a jolt of emotion that Red doesn't hesitate for a second as she leans into the embrace, curling up against her mother and pressing her face into her shoulder. Bridget lets one of her hands rest on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.
"When I look at you", she begins softly, "at all of my children, but you specifically — I see a young woman who has found the strength to be herself and stand up for who she is. I see someone unique and beautiful. I see your care for others, your resilience and your unshakeable belief that you can change the world. And all I can think is how proud I am, and how lucky I feel that I get to watch you build your own future."
Red's hands tighten around the back of her mother's nightdress, and a choked sob escapes her. Seconds later, Bridget feels tears soaking her shoulder.
"I love you, Mom. I love you, I love you."
"I love you too, Sweetheart."
***
Christmas Day itself is a private affair. Pink cooks up a storm, gifts are exchanged, and they end up watching a movie, curled together on the couch.
Throughout the whole day, Red stays a little closer to her mother than usual.
***
A few days later, Bridget has a nightmare again.
She wakes up shaking, her breathing uneven. She sits up in bed for a few minutes, looking at the stars outside the window in the clear winter sky. It's not real, she reminds herself. That version of herself doesn't exist in this timeline.
She's barely managed to get her heart rate back to normal when there's a small knock on the door. She slips her feet into her slippers and opens the door.
Behind it is Red, looking at her with uncertain eyes. Without a word, Bridget steps aside to let her in. She comes in, but stays frozen in the middle of the room, not daring to come any closer. Having shut the door behind her, Bridget crosses the room back to her bed and motions for Red to follow. Hesitantly, the girl climbs onto the side of the bed next to her mother.
Bridget smiles softly at her, encouraging, and Red meets her gaze. Seconds later, a pair of arms snake around her waist as Red presses herself against her mother. Bridget wraps her arms around her daughter in return. Red sighs, and it feels like a weight is lifting off her shoulders as she melts into the hug.
"I love you, Mom."