Chapter Text
The story doesn’t quite end there yet. Because it takes some time to talk things through - and they do more than talk during these sessions. It takes a while for Regina to voice all her hurts, all her insecurities, and it takes time to believe that Emma’s vicious words were just that - vile words. Regina feels everything so deeply that it sometimes physically hurts Emma to hear Regina talk about what Emma put her through. Never again, Emma whispers in her ear.
And Emma, on her behalf, talks about not being able to see what was going on right in front of her face all along. Says she really hadn’t been aiming for it but it just happened sneakily but boy, is she happy that it did, even if it took her forever to realize. And then, she can’t help but smugly say that she’s been right all along.
“How come?” Regina says. She’s been lying comfortably in Emma’s lap, Emma’s fingers playing with her hair and it nearly makes her purr in contentment but when they pause, she looks up.
“Well, I told you a long time ago that we would never be friends.”
Regina rolls her eyes but doesn’t move. Tilts her head a little, urging Emma to continue the massage and she sighs happily as Emma complies. “We were friends for a long time,” she disagrees.
“I told you the sex thing would always get in the way.” She frowns. “The one time I didn’t want to be right. We were doomed from the start.”
Regina sighs as Emma’s fingers stop again. There’s a frown on the blonde’s face. “Sometimes the thought that I screwed up and that I might’ve been too late hmpff-”
Regina springs up quickly from Emma’s lap and presses her lips against Emma’s to stop the words from coming out. Emma sighs, relaxes, and wraps her arms around Regina instead.
“Your dark side came out,” Regina murmurs against her lips, eyes shimmering, “And I think I found a very effective way to shut it up.”
Emma smiles lopsidedly, nuzzles Regina’s nose. “I guess so. But I-” Again, Regina leans in and Emma gives up. There’s more time to talk later. Much later.
~*~
In the months following, Emma stays over so many times at the mansion, that at some point during dinner, Henry asks if she has already moved in. Emma’s eyes widen comically and Regina chokes on a piece of broccoli. Emma, who recovers quicker, helpfully pats her back. “Henry,” she says with a shaky voice once she’s regained her breath.
“What?” He looks between them and grins.
The women exchange a glance over his head, and then Regina slowly adds, “Would you… like if Emma moved in?”
“Yeah, she’s cool. And she’s great at video games and she likes comic books and basketball and, I mean, you love her right?” Henry shrugs as if it’s the most logical thing in the world, but Regina knows that it’s not that easy. They haven’t talked about it, even though Emma spends most of her time here, and it is a big step forward in their lives.
But it would also be a potential vulnerability for Emma, and Regina doesn’t know if Emma’s ready for it.
“Emma, you don’t have to…” Emma’s gaze falters a little and Regina shakes her head immediately. “Listen, I’d love to have you here permanently,” she softly says, “but it’s your choice. Or... we can do a trial, something like that? And we can also hold on to your apartment if it means you’ll be more comfortable.” She feels vulnerable and sees it reflected in Emma’s eyes for a few seconds. Then, Emma’s gaze brightens and the fire in her green eyes takes Regina’s breath away.
“I don’t need a safety net with you,” she whispers, leaning over and gently tucking a lock of hair behind Regina’s ear. “And I’m honored that your kid wants to share his video games with me.” She flashes him a smile, and he nods seriously.
“They’re still mine, though,” he warns her.
“Henry,” Regina chastises, but Emma laughs.
“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” she winks, and just like that, the deal is settled.
Emma officially moves into the mansion in May and all stays the same - it’s like she’s always lived there.
~*~
At the beginning of August, a week before Henry’s tenth birthday, Regina receives a letter from the adoption agency and it unsettles her greatly. She’s snappy, throws herself at the birthday preparations, and Emma and Henry don’t know what’s wrong. She’s been in a bad mood before and usually, it helps to stay away for the first few hours and then make her talk about it later. However, this time, it doesn’t work. Henry is worried, and Emma promises him that she’ll talk to her.
“Out with it,” she demands after Henry’s gone to bed, and Regina’s unloading the dishwasher with more force than necessary, causing the plates to rattle. “Something’s been bothering you all day and these poor plates don’t need to suffer because of it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps.
“Maybe not,” Emma counters, not giving in because she knows it’s not because of her, “but you’re going to.” She steps closer. “Let me help,” she softly says.
Regina glares at her, and Emma readies herself for an outburst, but then the brunette closes her eyes and sags against the kitchen counter. “You can’t,” Regina says, and she curls her fingers around the kitchen counter. “Social services sent me a letter. For Henry. Apparently,” she shakes her head and continues with bitterness in her voice, “his birth mother wrote him a letter that he is to receive on his tenth birthday. I don’t know what to do with it and I have no idea what is in it. Do I read it? Do I even give it to him?”
Emma inhales sharply. Heat flashes through her body and her face flushes, and she opens her mouth to say something, only to find that she can’t. Suddenly, nausea sweeps through her and she’s dizzy. Black spots cloud her peripheral view. The air is suddenly thick and her nostrils flare, desperately trying to get in oxygen.
“Emma, are you okay?” Regina says, startled at the unsuspected reaction. Emma lightly shakes her head to clear up her view and drops on a barstool.
“I’m, um. Yeah.” She frantically searches her memories. They celebrated Henry’s birthday last year. She hadn’t really paid attention to the date, or maybe she had thought it was a coincidence. “Henry’s birthday is August 11, right?”
“It is.” Regina frowns. “What’s going on?” She comes closer. “It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.” She lifts her hand, fingers investigating Emma’s face, feeling her forehead.
Emma lets her. Tries to get her racing thoughts in order but her head feels like it’s going to explode as the details come back. Her son was born on August 11. Almost ten years ago to the date. She wrote him a letter. This is no coincidence and she frantically searches her brain for clues. How could she have missed them? Inhaling a stuttering breath, she closes her eyes and needs to fight her instincts to bolt. Her ears are ringing and she doesn’t hear what Regina is saying.
And then, Regina grabs her shoulders. “Emma!” she cries out. Emma shakes her head.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she breathes, and it’s evident that she’s not. She’s sweating, her skin feels clammy and she closes her eyes. “Give me a minute.”
“You’re not fainting on me in the kitchen, dear,” Regina murmurs, and tugs her up to her feet. “I’m getting you in bed. We’ll talk later.”
Oh, they’re definitely going to, Emma thinks, shaken to her core. There’s a conversation they need to have soon, but she has no idea how this is going to turn out and if Regina will even believe that it is a total coincidence that both Henry and Emma showed up on her doorstep.
~*~
“We need to talk.”
Regina looks up from her paperwork. She’s at her office at city hall and she blinks at Emma, who’s standing on the threshold with a frown on her face and her hands in her pockets. Oh. This doesn’t look good. Regina sits up straighter, dread settling in her stomach.
“About what?”
“That letter Henry’s about to receive.” Emma’s eyes nervously flick through the office before landing on Regina again. Tension radiates off of her and she wants to get up, wants to round the desk and go towards her, but Emma steps forward and raises a hand. “No, please sit. You’re going to want to sit for this.”
Slowly, Regina sits down again. “You’re scaring me, Emma,” she murmurs. Agony nags at her stomach and she grabs a pen to keep her fingers busy. “What’s going on?”
Silence follows, and she sees Emma swallowing thickly, eyes shifting everywhere before she bows her head and twists her fingers nervously. And just when the silence becomes too hard to bear, Emma’s shoulders slump and she whispers, “I uh, think I might be the one who’s written it.”
Regina frowns, and it takes a few seconds before she realizes what Emma means, what she is actually saying, and she slowly rises. “ You’re Henry’s birth mother?”
“I think?” There’s a guarded look on Emma’s face. “I swear I didn’t know. But the letter - his birthdate - I just didn’t link it together and I…” She waves helplessly.
Regina stares at her. Her heart rate picks up, and she swallows thickly. She has noticed similarities between Emma and her son. The way they wrinkle their nose. The way they run their hands through their hair. The way they have these almost identical smiles sometimes, and the way they eat their food - Emma’s like a child, Regina sometimes fondly thinks. But maybe it’s more like her child is really Emma’s and that’s why.
Emma’s right. She needs to sit down, and she drops back in her chair. “What do you want?” She sounds defensive and she hates it. She loves Emma. And yet, there’s this teeny tiny sliver of betrayal lurking around the corner. Did she know before? If so, why hasn’t she said anything?
“I don’t want anything.” Emma sounds defensive, too. “I mean, if I am really his birth mother… I…” She waves her hands helplessly in the air. “I gave him up, I’m not his mom.” She struggles a little. Tries to find the right words. “You are. I mean, has he even ever expressed his want to find his biological mom because if he hasn’t, maybe you should let it rest. Don’t give him the letter. He’s happy with you.” She shrugs. “I just... I don’t know.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
Regina narrows her eyes. Presses her hand flat to her stomach. “So… you
don’t
want him to know?” She hates that there’s a wave of relief cleansing her worries inside. All right, so maybe she does believe that Emma didn’t know any of it. She looks far too distressed to act this out.
“I... no. I don’t know, Regina,” Emma cries out, frantically shaking her head. There’s a helplessness in her voice that makes Regina want to take her in her arms and kiss it better, but she knows she can’t. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It matters what you want. I’ll tell you what’s in the letter and then you decide what to do.”
Regina looks at the wide eyes, the haunted expression on Emma’s face, and she nods slowly. Emma sighs, drops in one of the chairs opposite the desk and she tells the story about her pregnancy in jail, something that Regina has heard bits and pieces of over the last year. Tells her that she wrote her baby boy a letter, telling him why she had to give him up. Telling him she wanted him to have his very best chance. “The system has never treated me very well,” Emma says with a croaking voice. “And I wanted him to know, should he end up in the same situation, that I tried to do the right thing. But… He
has
found a great mom and he
did
get his best chance and I don’t want to undermine that for either of you and if you want me to go away I’ll-”
“Emma.”
Regina’s sharp tone shuts Emma up and the green eyes flicker with worry and fear. As if she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. Old fears resurface. Rejection. Abandonment. And Regina, even though she is worried for her son, can’t let her go there. “Do you want him to know?”
There’s a pause of a couple of seconds that feels like minutes. Emma’s shoulders drop, and she lowers her head. Shakes it lightly. “What if he resents me for giving him up?” she says, voice tiny, and Regina’s heart goes out to her.
“What if he doesn’t?” Regina counters gently.
“We have a great thing going on here,” Emma vehemently says. “We don’t need to change it. It doesn’t need-”
“Emma, stop. Please.” Surprisingly, Regina suddenly feels really calm, as if she’s been here before. She has. Emma has the tendency to run away from everything that has the possibility to hurt her - if she does it first, she has control over it.
It’s why they almost lost each other, and she can’t let that happen again.
“Henry deserves to know the truth,” Regina softly says as she rounds the desk and kneels down in front of Emma, placing her hands in hers. “And I won’t say I’m not worried because I am. I am worried about what it means. About what he is going to think, or do. I’m worried about us. But ignoring it is not going to make it go away and Emma…” She pauses, waits for Emma’s reluctant gaze to meet her own. “We are strong together. We’ll get through this together. All of us.”
Emotions whirl in those green eyes - worry, agony, fear, but Regina also sees hope, right before Emma closes her eyes and sighs softly. She nods. And Regina exhales and hopes she made the right decision.
~*~
They sit down with Henry when he comes home from school. Emma is a nervous wreck. She looks at him differently now. Tries to spot her own features in his face, or maybe Neal’s, but she doesn’t see anything. She paces up and down the room as he sits down next to his mom, and he frowns as he follows her with her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he says, and his eyes widen. “Emma’s not moving out, is she?” he asks, alarmed. The question is so absurd that Emma stops dead in her tracks and barks out a laugh of surprise.
“I sure hope not,” she then says, because her heart plummets and frankly, she doesn’t really know what’s going to happen.
Regina looks up at her sympathetically, before turning back at Henry. “Sweetheart, there’s something I have to tell you.” And Regina takes his hands into hers, tells him about the letter that has arrived from his birth mother and that it was written even before he was born. “She wanted you to receive it on your tenth birthday.” She takes it out of her pocket. Hands it to him, and he takes it automatically from her.
Henry’s gaze flicks between the two, and his gaze is suddenly guarded. “Will it change anything between us if I read it?” he asks warily.
“Not necessarily,” Regina answers.
“What if she writes she wants me back?” His eyes shine defiantly. “I don’t want that.”
“She can’t take you back, sweetheart. You’re legally my son.” Her eyes flick to Emma, pauses, and then adds. “She has no rights over you.” It’s the truth, Emma knows, plain and simple, and maybe it’s because she’s slowly getting used to the idea of Henry being her son and she knows she really doesn’t have any rights, but the words sting a little.
“I don’t need to read it. You’re my mom.” His words are heartfelt. Pushes back the letter in Regina’s hand.
“I’ll always be your mom,” Regina smiles, and when Emma’s eyes meet hers again, Emma sees some relief. As if she maybe hadn’t thought that that was how it was going to go. Emma smiles curtly. Regina’s a great mom and she really couldn’t have wished for a better mom for her baby boy. “But,” Regina continues, repeating the words she told Emma earlier, “ignoring it isn’t going to make this go away. You don’t have to open the letter right away, and I can keep it for you if you want to until you’re ready.”
Henry stares ahead, without really seeing anything. “What would you do, Emma?” he asks, suddenly grabbing Regina’s hands again and clinging to her while looking up at Emma. Emma’s heart aches. “You’re an orphan, too. Would you want to know?”
Emma closes her eyes for a second. “Yes,” she whispers. It was the reason why she wrote the letter in the first place. Because she never had a clue about who her parents were and she had wished for them to show up so badly.
They never had.
She scrapes her throat. “Yes. I would want to know the reason they gave me up.”
“Does it matter why? They didn’t want me.” Henry raises his chin, and Emma’s heart drops again. There’s a lot of that going on. Blood is pumping frantically through her body. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out at first.
And then, hoarsely, she says, “Yes. It matters.”
“There’s something else we need to tell you,” Regina says, focusing on her son again. “The letter was why I felt cranky yesterday because I thought I might lose you.”
Henry frowns. “Why? You’re my mom. Not the woman giving me up.”
Emma’s knees buckle and she needs to sit down. Chooses the armchair at the other side of Regina, so she can act like a buffer.
“And I always will be. But when I told Emma about the letter I got, we found out something.” She gently strokes his hair out of his face. “Did you know that Emma once had a baby boy, Henry?”
He shakes his head and turns her head to Emma. “I didn’t. Where is he?” He blinks when a sudden thought enters his mind. “Is he... dead?”
“No,” Emma hastily says and then sighs, accepting that this is really happening and she can’t let Regina do everything. “He is very much alive. I… for a long time, I didn’t know where he was,” she continues. “I gave birth to him when I was in prison. And I decided to give him up for adoption.”
There’s a short pause in which Henry tries to process.
“Why were you in prison?” he frowns and Emma can’t help but smile because he’s almost ten and prison probably sounds mighty interesting.
“Someone accused me of stealing watches,” Emma says, eyes flicking to Regina, who nods almost invisibly.
“And did you?” Henry tilts his head.
“I, um, well, someone asked me to pick them up from a locker in a train station. I didn’t know they were stolen, but the police caught me with them.” There’s no way on earth that Emma’s ever going to tell him that this rat’s bastard who set her up fathered him. “And they thought I stole them.”
“Oh. That sucks.” There’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes - ever the believer. Emma’s heart squeezes.
“It really did,” Emma agrees, as she shifts in her seat. “I found out that I was pregnant soon after hearing my sentence. And I decided…” Her voice wavers and her chest tightens upon seeing his trusting green-brown eyes and it’s almost as if she can’t breathe. “I-- I had no place to stay on the outside, no job, no money. So,” she breathes in deeply, “I wanted him to have his best chance because I felt that was clearly not going to be me.”
Suddenly, Henry’s eyes grow guarded and he sits up a little straighter. “What are you saying?” His voice sounds sharp and Emma feels goosebumps stand up over her entire body as she swallows. There’s no turning back now.
“There’s a decent chance that I’ve written that letter all those years ago,” she all but whispers, waving a helpless hand at the letter.
Henry stares at her with an unreadable face and she is cold, so cold. Wraps her arms around herself and tries to rub herself warm. She’s unable to look at them, wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection she might see in them. And then, with a sudden movement, he snatches the letter and stands up, leaves the room quietly, leaving the two women who look at each other with worried eyes.
~*~
“I’ll go talk to him,” Regina says after a few minutes. She’s gone to the kitchen and made some tea for Emma. She’s worried. Emma’s face is pale and she’s wrapped her hands around herself as if she’s protecting herself from hurt - which is probably exactly what she’s doing.
“No. I should do it,” Emma quietly says. Wondering if that’s the best idea, Regina hesitates for a second. But Emma looks up and smiles a little wryly, her gaze clear. “If you hear a lot of yelling, then please do interfere because you’re way better equipped to deal with a hurt boy than I’ll ever be.” She tilts her head and frowns. “Or maybe check in five minutes anyway, because he might’ve strangled me in the process and is trying to hide my-”
“Emma.” The gentle scold shuts Emma up immediately. “He’s ten.”
“Yeah. Okay. Right.” She gets up. Rubs her hands on her jeans, as if her hands are clammy and she has to wipe them off. And then she leaves the room with a defeated pose. Well, Regina muses, at least Emma hasn’t run away. And hasn’t tried to drive either Regina or Henry away - on the contrary. She’s going to him. And that, in Regina’s mind, is definitely progress.
She sighs when she hears the creaking of the stairs when Emma goes up, anticipation coursing through her body. She wishes she could help her, but also realizes that this is something Emma needs to do alone. And when Emma is upstairs, silence falls over Regina. There isn’t any sound. No yelling. No cries.
Regina tilts her head to see if she can pick up any sounds, but it’s quiet. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest. It’s not just Emma who’s nervous. As much as she would like to treat it as a little bump in the road to their future, can she really trust that it is only that? Henry is a clever boy, but this situation is highly unusual and incredibly coincidental, and Regina doesn’t tend to believe in coincidence.
She is restless and paces up and down in the living room until she can’t take it anymore, and heads for the stairs. She climbs them with a soft tread, doesn’t want to announce her presence just yet. Emma needs a chance to figure this out on her own. She hears a soft voice murmur ahead - definitely hers. Regina’s heart flutters.
“... of my life.”
There’s a silence as Regina stops right outside the door, and she can’t help herself - she peeks around the corner. Henry sits on his bed, his head bowed, the letter crumpled in his hand and a few pictures next to him, and Emma sitting a little distance away, fingers twisting in her lap.
Another pause. Regina’s heart hurts for them both. “Did you cry? When I…” His voice faltered and Emma sighs.
“I couldn’t stop. You know that feeling that you open a tap and the water starts running and you can’t shut it down again?” A few seconds of silence. “Well. That was me. I cried for days and there wasn’t a day I didn’t think that I made a mistake.” Regina holds her breath, feels the familiar sting of tears behind her own eyes as she hurts for both Emma and Henry.
“So… you did want me?”
“Yes.” The answer is short and simple. “I just didn’t have the means… couldn’t give you what you deserved.”
A few seconds of silence, before Henry’s meek voice sounds. “Are you going to take me back?”
Emma inhales sharply and Regina fights the urge to do the same - it’s the same thought Regina had when she first learned of it all, and the answer, even though she already knows it, leaves her in agony. But Emma’s response is swift and clear.
“Your mom will forever be your mom. I’m never going to do that to either of you - even if I could, because I gave up my rights” Her voice sounds definitive and Regina exhales shakily, but Emma isn’t done yet. “I love you, kid, even before I knew about any of this, and I’m honored to be in your life, but I understand…” As strong as she sounded moments before, Emma’s voice falters now.
“I know this is a lot to process,” Emma softly continues after a short pause, “It was for me, too, when I found out. And I understand that-”
“If you hadn’t given me up,” Henry whispers, cutting her off, “do you think we’d ever met mom?”
There’s a pause and when Emma raises her head to look at him, Regina pulls back, not wanting to be seen just yet - but as eager for an answer as Henry is. “I don’t know, kid. Maybe. Maybe not. Our lives would’ve been completely different, probably.”
“Then…” Regina hears a rustle of paper. “Maybe… maybe do you think that this was how it was supposed to happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t given me up, I’d never had mom. And you wouldn’t either.” Henry sounds thoughtful.
“I… I guess that’s true.” There’s a hint of surprise in Emma’s voice.
Regina closes her eyes and releases another breath she didn’t even know she’d held back. She is proud of them both.
“Emma?”
“Hm?”
“Do you still want me?” Regina’s heart breaks for him, and she holds her breath as she waits for Emma to reply - which she immediately does.
“Kid, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t - even without all of this I’d want you.” Emma sounds adamant about it. Regina hears how Henry chokes out a sob and can’t take standing outside anymore, so she makes her presence known by stepping inside the room. Emma looks up, and Regina sees how Henry has closed the distance between them, how Emma’s arms are firmly wrapped around him and how he’s buried her face in his shoulder, with his own arms tightly wrapped around Emma’s waist. Emma swallows, smiles a wobbly smile despite her red-rimmed eyes, and god, Regina feels so much love for them both. She quietly sits down on the other side of her son and raises her hands to touch both her girlfriend and her son. “What if,” Regina murmurs, catching Emma’s green gaze and holding it, “what if Emma would be your other mother, Henry?”
Henry sits up, face red and blotched because of his silent tears, and looks at Regina. And back at Emma. Regina’s eyes flick between Henry’s and Emma’s gaze and goodness, she’s never been so sure in her entire life. Emma belongs with them. “Would you?” Henry says, still a little caution in his voice, as he directs his gaze to Emma.
She gives him a lopsided smile, just as cautious as he is. “If you’ll have me,” she simply says.
Henry wrinkles his brow and nods. “Does that mean you’re going to marry us?”
The two women look at each other, wide-eyed, startled by the question.
“Um-”
“We-”
“I -”
Regina’s heart pounds in her throat and she swallows thickly. Then, still holding Emma’s gaze, she clears her throat. “Would you?” No matter how far they’ve come, she knows how hurt Emma was by her divorce, and honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if Emma wanted to wait. Nevertheless, nervous butterflies flutter in her stomach as she waits for Emma’s answer. “I mean if you want. I’d understand if you-”
“Well,” Emma interrupts, clears her throat and swallows, eyes shining and smiling a little wobbly, “I did tell you once that I wanted to share the rest of my life with you, and that I’d like that to start as soon as possible, right?” Her breath is shaky.
Henry looks at her and frowns a little. “So, is that a yes?”
“Yes, Henry,” Emma says, but her eyes are fixed on Regina, and there’s a determination, a certainty that takes Regina’s breath away. “I’ll marry you.” And with Henry lodged firmly between them - between his
moms
- Emma wraps her arms around them both, grins through her tears while Regina can’t keep it entirely dry either, and pulls her close for a kiss that seals that answer.
The first time they met, they hated each other. The second time they met, Emma didn’t remember Regina. The third time they met, they became friends. They were friends for a long time, and then they weren’t. And then, they fell in love (neither of them is ever going to admit that maybe, just maybe , a tiny little bit of that love was already present during their very first encounter in the car) and finally, became a family.