#baby LOVES car accidents and getting hit in the head with a metal baseball bat

[xxvi0lent-vahlkampfiidaexx]

if you have cognition-based vulnerable npd with a mental disability (including acute brain injuries) u are literally the bravest person in the world and i need u to know that

[jumpthethunder]

I wish you would write a fic where Emma was the one to bring back Regina’s memories

Thanks for the prompt! My very first one ever!! So I’m going to bend this one a little and have Emma not so much be the one that starts the process, but the one who is there when Regina returns to herself with her memories of life before Roni. Oh, and I sort of set this in the same universe/headcanon as my little blip of a fic “Out of the Woods”, which is on Ao3 if you want to check that out too.

Ok, here goes nothing:

Roni knew the instant the top shelf whiskey slipped past her lips that it was tainted. She’d worked in this bar for years, since she was far too young to have been allowed through the door nevermind behind the bar itself, becoming more than a little familiar with alcohol of all types along the way, and this was (sadly) not nearly the first time someone had tried to sneak something into her drink. She felt the way the drugged liquor clung to the inside of her mouth unnaturally, her pulse rate quickening as her adrenaline picked up and panic began to set in. She had no idea what Ivy’s intentions were here, though everything in her gut had told her from day one not to trust the girl she certainly didn’t expect her plan to involve roofies, and she knew without a doubt that she likely had minutes to act if she was going to get out of this situation before whatever toxin was leaching into her bloodstream knocked her off her feet. 

Ivy was speaking, though Roni had stopped listening several bloated bragging statements earlier, doing her best to look mildly annoyed but otherwise unbothered lest she risk alerting her that she knew what she’d done. The second Ivy turned her back, stilling rambling on and chuckling to herself as she reached for something more her taste further down the bar, Roni was up, silently sliding from her stool and slipping to the corner of the counter, her hand blindly curling around the edge, fingers wrapping around the baseball bat she kept there. She had just barely managed to get a grip on it when Ivy glanced over her shoulder, her eyes showing just the slightest bit of shock at Roni’s change in position before she grinned wickedly and slowly began to approach, her hips swaying confidently, gesturing with the drink her in hand as she spoke,

“I should have known I wouldn’t get that by you. It seems you haven’t lost your knack for sensing when someone is plotting against you. I’m sure you have ample experience with assassination attempts, Queenie.” She laughed again, the sound grating against Roni’s ears as she felt her pulse begin to throb in her head, the lights of the bar suddenly becoming fuzzy and far too bright. Ivy tilted her head curiously as she watched Roni blink once, twice, a hand falling to the counter to steady herself. “Hmmm, seems it doesn’t matter, one sip was all I needed to get the job done. It’s too late for you now, Roni…or should I call you Regina?”  

The name, foreign to her until this morning, tugged at something deep within her mind as an odd tingling sensation began to build just at the base of her skull. She knew this was it, these were the last seconds before the quivering feeling in her legs would become too much to ignore and the tilting of the room around her would take her down. She hoisted the bat to her shoulder with more effort than she cared to admit and staggered a few steps forward. 

“You know what Ivy?”

“Yes, Regina?” Ivy remained completely at ease, not even bothering to back away as Roni closed the distance between them, clearly confident that Roni would be rendered useless before she could inflict any damage. How wrong she was.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is MY bar, and you are just a little girl trying to play with the grown ups.” Roni could feel her palms sweating, the hands now both wrapped firmly around the grip of the bat shaking, but she proceeded to take the last step that would put her within striking distance of her target even as Ivy looked like she was going to interrupt with some no-doubt self-satisfied snarking. Before she could speak Roni settled the bat over her shoulder and quirked one eyebrow, a snarl crossing her lips, speaking as she swung with all her strength, “Consider this last call-”

The sound the bat made as it connected with right side of Ivy’s head was very nearly as satisfying as the expression of utter disbelief that crossed the wretched girl’s face before she crumpled, unconscious, to the floor. 

“-Bitch.”

Roni dropped the bat, the metal hitting the floor with a loud clanging, and slumped over the bar, her fingers grasping at the edge to try to keep herself on her feet at all as she felt the drugs in her system begin to take full effect. She knew she had to get out of this room and away from Ivy should she wake up and retaliate, get to a phone and call for help, call Rogers, or Henry–

Henry. 

A pain sparked through her already pounding brain and she cried out, clutching at her head as images of the photograph she’d found hidden in Victoria Belfrey’s office building flashed behind her tightly closed eyes, blending with other images of a young Henry, images she couldn’t possibly know. One foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled towards the ground, her chin hitting the bar on the way down causing her to bite her tongue and shout out in pain once more. She was crying, hot angry tears fall down her cheeks, by the time she managed to start dragging herself blindly across the floor, her vision failing her as flashes of things that had never happened, could never have happened, mingled with her own memories and danced before her eyes. She saw a baby boy, one she’d never known or held, swaddled in blue wailing in her arms, and then he was gone, his face replaced by the ruddy and boisterously laughing face of her own father, the well-meaning bar owner who loved her dearly but struggled as a single father with a taste for alcohol that would ultimately take him from her when she was just 17 years old, leaving her with nothing bad debts and a run-down bar to her name. She saw the car accident that at 8 years old had left her with the scar slashing across her upper lip, but then it was replaced by another scene, one where she was somehow restrained mid-air high up above a forest before being dropped through a thick canopy of trees where branches clawed at her face resulting in the very same scar.She wasn’t sure when she had stopped crawling, when she had curled into a ball grasping at her head, fingers digging into her scalp so hard they drew blood, all she knew was that suddenly everything stopped, just for an instant when she heard an unknown and yet comfortingly familiar voice, choked with emotions she couldn’t understand, call out from behind her, 

“Regina?”

It was the last thing she heard before she passed out, one word echoing through her mind as the darkness took over.

Emma.

She was too late, in classic Emma Swan fashion it seemed, to defeat the villain and save the day. How often had this happened before? Too late to stop Henry from eating that turnover, too late to stop Gold from cursing Regina with the Wraith, too late to stop Hook from kidnapping Regina for Owen, too late to stop the trigger from being activated in the first place thus putting everyone she loved in danger, too late to stop Cora from framing Regina, too late to stop Zelena from taking Marian’s place, too late to stop Hades from making it through to Storybrooke where he could attempt to murder Regina and instead end up destroying Robin’s very soul, too late to stop Gideon and the Black Fairy, too late to stop the curse that somehow stole everyone she had ever loved away from her…again. 

And now here she was 10 years and mere minutes too late to protect Regina from Ivy, or whoever the fuck she was. She had finally found her family, finally, after 10 years, there was Henry (a grown man) and Regina (somehow looking barely a day older than the last time she’d seen her), even Hook’s double and Gold were here (both frozen in time like Regina, though this was to be expected when it came to the Dark One himself).

She had spent the past 36 hours more-or-less stalking Regina, trailing her every step of the way and trying to sort out who this new person before her eyes was-with her leather jackets, torn jeans, and leopard print boots, her swagger and charm, her easy laugh and one serious ability to hold her liquor. She followed her to Belfrey tower and later watched her leave looking shaken to her core, though she was sure only years of being well-versed in Regina’s body language allowed her to see this fact as this new woman, Roni as she seemed to be called, was putting on a solid front in an effort to project an outward cool. It was odd, Roni was so very different from Regina, even in the way she displayed and protected her emotions, and yet Emma found she could read her like a well-loved book.

Emma had decided that whatever had shaken Regi- no, it was Roni, was worth investigating further, so she’d stayed behind, lingering at a coffee shop across the street. Using skills she hadn’t relied on in what felt like a lifetime to break-in after hours that evening and investigate, she soon decided to venture to the secured top level (instinct told her that anywhere that needed a thumb print or a secret code to get into was suspicious). Emma had eventually discovered that luckily for her it seemed her magic still worked just fine when she’d grown so frustrated trying to guess the security code that she’d short circuited the whole panel. With a self-deprecating sigh and a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Regina’s calling her an idiot for not having even thought to try reaching for her magic earlier, she poofed her way into one creepy ass room only to find it empty save for a disturbingly spiky little plant that appeared to be growing out of a pile of dirt on the floor. With a little help from her magic, and 10 years spent with little to do but pour over Regina’s extensive magical library back in Storybrooke, Emma realized exactly what the plant was for and, in a panic, completely forgetting about her magic, she’d literally run down the flights and flights of stairs to the ground level and out to the old Mercedes waiting for her by the curb. She’d broken traffic laws and blown through red-lights on her way and yet still, as she burst through the door of the bar, she knew in an instant she was too late. 

Regina was in a heap on the floor shuddering and alternating between scrambling at the hardwood with her fingertips like she was trying to find something to hold on to and gripping at her own hair and head so hard her knuckles turned white. She was wailing, heart-wrenching screams scratching their way from what was an already raw throat only to be choked back and broken by sobs so wet they sounded like they could drown. When Emma dared to speak her name, forgetting about Roni and calling instead for the woman she knew so well, everything stopped. Regina stopped shaking, stopped sobbing, stopped screaming, stopped breathing, and then, with a rattling gasp, her entire form went limp before Emma’s eyes. 

The minute Regina stilled Emma’s legs starting working again, propelling her forwards until she landed with a hard thud on her knees, dragging the other woman’s dead-weight across the floor and into her lap. For a horrifying moment she thought Regina was dead, that she’d been wrong about the plant and that it had in fact been some agony-inducing form of poison. Her violently shaking fingers reached out and, terrified to find nothing, pushed down gently on Regina’s pulse point. She only realized she’d been holding her breath when it came back to her in a rush upon finding a strong, if too fast and erratically beating, pulse below the skin. She smoothed her hand over Regina’s forehead, the skin clammy and flushed, her surprisingly curly hair sticking to it. 

“Oh god Regina, what do I do?” 

She knew enough about the plant to know it’s purpose, remembered Regina telling her about it back when Henry had been missing his memories and they’d spent hours together trying to create a potion to safely bring them back. But she also knew enough to know that she didn’t know half as much as she needed to fix this. These plants were dangerous, the impact on the mind unpredictable at best and, if not handled in exactly the right way, could fracture an already splintered consciousness beyond all repair. Memories, and the mind, were fragile and tricky things. In order for memories hidden by magic to be recovered like this the mind had to be pushed to just the right point and then given very specific triggers to stimulate the release of those memories, or of a whole hidden persona in Regina’s case. Without knowing how Regina had become Roni, how any of this had happened, it was far more likely that anything Emma did would only serve to further tip Regina’s mind over the precipice into complete and irreversible madness. At this point the best she could hope for was that Regina might come out of this in a state similar to that of Jefferson in the early days after her arrival in Storybrooke, or Graham when his former life began to mingle with his cursed persona. She would be mildly deranged at times, but there would be moments of lucidity. But even this, given the state Emma had found her in, seemed like wishful thinking. 

Lost in thought Emma hadn’t realized that she was now cradling Regina’s body to her chest, rocking gently back and forth, her lips pressed to deep chestnut hair as she murmured her fears and failings aloud. 

“I’m so sorry Regina. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m so sorry I lost you for so long. I’ve been so alone and then I found you and you weren’t you anymore and you know I think I could have been ok with that, could be ok with that, if you are just ok too, whoever you are now. Please Regina, please don’t leave me again. You have to help me fix this. Tell me what to do to fix this.” 

She pushed tangled curls away from Regina’s face, tucking them behind her ear, her movements frantic yet tender, her eyes taking in every feature of the woman she used to know so well and had missed with an ache that burrowed deep within her chest and refused to let up. 

The woman it had taken her 10 years of solitude to realize she loved more than life itself. 

A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto Regina’s nose, alerting her to the fact that she was apparently crying. The droplet ran down her nose, sliding down the side before getting caught in the line that connected her nose to the corner of her mouth and ended up cradled between Regina’s slightly parted lips, and it was then that Emma was struck with a thought. It was something she hardly dared believe, could only barely find the strength in her heart to hope for, before remembering another night when it seemed things were coming to an unavoidable end, when it seemed her own destiny was inescapable and her demise certain. It was the night Regina had spoken to her about hope, about winning when you had no idea how to even fight and it seemed like the deck was stacked against you. 

“What should I do?“

“You’ll know when the time comes.”

Emma let out a watery chuckle, picturing the way Regina had said those words to her like she had complete faith in their validity, complete faith in her, in Emma Swan, the woman she so often (and so fondly) called an idiot. She’d been right then…maybe, just maybe she was right now. 

With one finger under Regina’s chin, tilting her head up ever so slightly, and her other hand cradling the top of Regina’s head so gently, as if she could put her damaged mind back together with shear tenderness alone, Emma bent forward, more tears falling from her face Regina’s. 

“I love you, Regina Mills. I will always love you.” She whispered before closing the last breath of distance between them and placing a kiss with quivering lips to the hauntingly motionless ones below.

For one heartbeat, then two, then three, there was nothing. Emma remained with eyes closed, drawing on every last drop of magic and hope and passion and love that she could find in her body and forcing it outward through their connected lips. The air was still around them. Too still. 

And then a gasp, the air sucked right from Emma’s lungs and into Regina’s as their eyes flew open simultaneously, gazes connecting and holding, locking together as something reminiscent of a sonic boom blew out from around their interwoven bodies. A brilliant light illuminated everything it touched and rippled outwards, through bar stools and bottles, through walls and windows, across a community garden and a cemetery, across a looming tower and a run-down apartment, across a would-be food truck and the shell of a burned-out chicken joint, across a stone troll and the old VW bug held within its mighty fist. 

Emma was the first to break the stunned, reverent silence because, well, she was Emma Swan. 

“Regina?” the desperate longing hope in her voice was unmistakable. 

“You found me.” Regina’s voice was raspy as much from disbelief and awe as from tears and screaming.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” Emma smirked around her own tears, coming now from the joy of it all, the overwhelming gratitude at finally, finally not being too late, not when it counted. Regina laughed, and coughed, and laughed some more.

“Idiot.”

“Yours.”

And then they were kissing again. Kissing and laughing and gasping and holding.

And less than 2 miles away a man sat up in his bed and realized that everything he’d written was true. He was no orphan, he did have two mothers, and a wife, and a daughter. He was loved, so very loved.

And less than 2 blocks away a woman fell off the couch where she’d fallen asleep watching tv and clamped a hand over her mouth as her eyes settled on her daughter’s copy of “Once Upon a Time” and she realized it as all true. She was not alone. She had a husband and mother-in-law who wasn’t wicked or evil. She had a family. 

And in her bedroom at her Step-Grandmother’s penthouse a little girl stood by her window, having watched the magic as it exploded from Roni’s bar, and smiled a toothy grin knowing that she had been right. It was all real and she had a mother and a father who were true loves and she had a Grandmother who adored her, and another she’d never met, and they were going to win. Good will always win. That’s what Henry’s book had taught her even before she could remember that that was what Henry himself had taught her from the day she was born, from the very first time he cradled her in his arms and told her stories of love and redemption and family and hope. Hope and love above all things.