02.  /   Mommy's On A Warpath.

   "Regina. Regina! Regina, wait." Carmen strode after Regina, the sound of her boots echoing Regina's heels. The mayor didn't slow down, didn't even glance back, as if she could outrun whatever storm was building behind those brown eyes. Carmen had her fair share of seeing this before (But this might have taken the cake)—trailing behind her, pulled by this invisible thread, no matter how many times she'd tried to cut it. The other side of the coin. She told herself that this was—what Regina was doing—was because of Henry, that this was about her kid, but...

Carmen called after her again, but the other woman didn't pause, her dark hair sweeping over her shoulder, just barely, as she pushed open the school doors with more force than necessary. Carmen muttered a curse under her breath, glancing at her phone as she typed a quick message to Ophelia: Stay in the library. Don't come out. She hit send and pocketed her phone, muttering to herself, "Please."

Inside, Regina was already halfway down the hall. Carmen caught up just as she reached the door to Henry's class.

"Regina."

No response. Regina's hand was on the handle now, her knuckles pale with pressure. Carmen stepped closer, just enough for their fingers to graze as she reached for the handle too. Regina stiffened but didn't look at her. "We should slow down," Carmen advised. "Give it a minute. Ms. Blanchard's class isn't out yet."

Regina's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line, "I don't care." Her voice was low, dangerous. A mother's. "The only thing I care about right now is finding Henry." She tried to reach again, but Carmen beat her to the punch... again.

And it was locked.

With her shoulders stiff and jaw clenched, Regina muttered something under her breath, her hand coming down to her side in a frustrated motion, "Damn it."

"Oh, would you look at that? It's locked. Guess we'll just have to wait out here," Carmen couldn't help the ghost of a smile that played on her lips as she leaned into the wall, relaxing into it a bit.

Regina's gaze flickered to Carmen, then to the door, a plan definitely brewing. For a second, Carmen even thought she might rip through the door, hinges off and everything, but instead, Regina exhaled, her posture firm as she straightened her posture. And then the foot tapping began. Carmen bit back a grin. Regina Mills was... pouting. It was oddly... cute.

Then, the bell rang.

The door finally opened, and students streamed by them, some giddy, and others wide-eyed at the sight of the town's mayor standing in the hallway.

Mary Margaret Blanchard, practically the warmest and kindest soul Storybrooke has ever seen—her face brightened when she saw the Sanchez woman. "Oh, hi, Carmen." Carmen shot her a quick smile as she took a seat at one of the kid's desks. Mary Margaret's smile then faltered when her eyes landed on Regina. "Ms. Mills? What are you doing here?"

"Where is my son?" She demanded, skipping any pretense of pleasantries.

Mary Margaret blinked, confused. "Henry? I assumed he was home sick with you."

"Do you think I'd be here if he was?" The woman snapped. "Did you give him your credit card so that he could Emma Swan?"

And the confusion only deepened from there. "I'm sorry, who?"

"The woman who gave him up for adoption."

Mary Margaret's face shifted, some sense of realization dawning on her. She turned to her purse, rifling through it with slightly shaking fingers. She opened her wallet, coming face to face with the empty slot where her credit card should be. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Clever boy," she murmured. "I should've known better than to give him that book."

"What in the hell is this book I keep hearing about?"

"Just some old stories I gave him," Mary Margaret rushed to tell. "As you well know, Henry is a special boy. So smart. So creative. And, as you might be aware, lonely. He needed it."

"What he needs is a dose of reality. This is a waste of time." Regina turned on her heel, heading for the door, but not without knocking over a few books and birdhouses and telling Carmen, "Tell your new best friend to have a nice trip back to Boston," without sparing her a look.

Carmen rolled her eyes, peeling herself off a desk to follow, "She's not my—"

The words died on her tongue as a soft voice broke through the room, "Mary Margaret?"

Ophelia. Sweet, innocent—doesn't listen to warning text messages—Ophelia walked into the room. Carmen turned to see her—cheeks slightly flushed from running. She held a stack of books in her hands, her eyes wide as they darted between the three women. "I brought you the books you asked for. Madam Mayor, hello."

"And you," Regina hissed as she stalked over to the blonde. "You were supposed to be watching him." If she had just done her job, none of this would be happening. Emma Swan wouldn't be here.

Ophelia froze, the books slipping slightly in her grip as she gulped.

"That's enough," Carmen said firmly as she stepped between them, leaning closer to Ophelia as she leveled with Regina, a look calm but warning. "She's not the problem here."

Regina's lips parted, but whatever retort she had died soon under Carmen's gaze. Her jaw tightened as she walked out of the classroom to what Carmen could only assume was to meet with Graham.

Ophelia exhaled, "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"Handling Regina? Please. That woman is like a feral cat. All claws and no trust."

Mary Margaret let out a nervous laugh, "I don't think anyone handles Regina." But something lingered on at the end of her sentence—she was close to saying, Except for you to Carmen. But she didn't. "Henry found his birth mother?"

"Brought her back and everything." Carmen nodded. "What I want to know is why he thinks this book is the... whatever."

Ophelia's face softened. "What do you think stories are for?"

"Falling asleep?"

Ophelia softly nudged her. "No. These stories, the classics? There's a reason we all know them. They're a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn't always make sense."

An escape.

"And I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope." Mary Margaret smiled gently. "Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Carmen narrowed her eyes at the teacher, "You know where he is, don't you?"

"You might want to check his castle."

♰

The playground was a skeleton of what it once was, its glory faded to rust and peeling paint. Carmen stood at the edge of the gravel, scanning the space until her eyes landed on Henry. He was perched up at the top, legs dangling over the edge, clutching that damn book he was making a fuss—acting out—over. Behind him, the clock tower loomed. The sky above was a murky gray, with the sun playing a coy game of hide-and-seek behind the clouds.

"You know," she called out, shoving her hands in her pockets as she crunched forward on the gravel, "when Mary Margaret said you were at your 'castle,' I was expecting... I don't know, maybe a moat. A dragon? But this? Kinda underwhelming."

Henry didn't turn at first, his gaze fixed on the clock tower in the distance. When he finally did look at her, he didn't laugh or roll his eyes. He just said, "It's not about what it looks like. It's about what it means."

"So, what does it stand for? Being grounded forever?" Because at the rate he was going...

"You don't get it."

Carmen's smirk faltered just a little as she shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, fingers brushing the worn leather interior. "Alright, let's skip the therapy session. Why'd you bolt? Your mom's on a warpath to find you." A mother's determination—a beautiful yet scary thing.

"I had to," he answered as he held the book closer. "You need to know the truth. Everyone does."

"Okay," she exhaled through her nose as she took a seat next to the boy. "Let's hear it."

He hesitated for a moment before opening the book and flipping through the pages. He landed on one, shooting toward her, "This."

Carmen looked at it—an illustration of a woman cloaked in black, her face a cold mask of triumph. Around her, people cowered in corners, their faces pale and their hands up as if warning off a blow. Carmen's eyes lingered on the regal figure's eyes, her dark and glittering eyes, "Let me guess. The Evil Queen?"

Henry nodded, "She's my mom."

"Regina?" She barked out a laugh before she could stop herself. "So, what's is this? A metaphor for her killer apple turnover? I think they're pretty good."

"This isn't a joke," Henry snapped, his voice a pitch higher now. "She's the Evil Queen. She cast the curse that trapped everyone here."

"Storybrooke. Right. Where we all drink bad coffee and play chicken. That curse?"

"Yes!" His frustration was bubbling over, his grip on the book tightening. "No one remembers who they are. Not even you."

"Me?" She tilted her head, studying him. This kid was a good liar, she had to give him that. "Let me guess. I'm Snow White? Cinderella? Ooh, the Big Bad Wolf?"

"You're in the book," his voice was quieter now, almost sorrowful, but not less insistent. "She killed you to cast the curse."

Carmen stilled. She wasn't sure what she expected him to say, but it sure as hell wasn't that. At first, she couldn't think of anything to say at all. But then, instinct kicked in. "Well, that's dark. Even for you. What else are you reading when no one's looking? Stephen King?"

"I'm serious."

He flipped through the pages again, and it only took a few seconds before he landed on a different page. The woman that was supposed to be her wore a forest laced tight over a crimson brocade vest, black pants that clung to her like second skin, tucked into knee-high boots that were scuffed, sprawled on the ground, her arms limp as black smoke took over.

"Okay..." she dragged the word, reaching for something light to say and coming up empty, "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that's me. Which it isn't. How do you explain me sitting right here? Pretty solid for a dead woman, don't you think?"

"I don't know. Not yet. But it's true, Carmen. You're in the book. You're part of the story. And so is Emma."

"Your birth mother?"

"You don't believe me," he sighed, sinking. "No one does. I'm not crazy, Carmen."

"I don't think you're crazy, alright?" Her voice was soft. "But you know who is going crazy right now? Your mother. She's losing her mind trying to find you. You can't just run off like this." He stayed silent. "How about I get you home, and in turn, I let Granny let you have all the hot chocolate you want. Deal?" Henry stared at her out of the corner of his eye, considering it before he nodded reluctantly. Bribery. Man's best friend.

He closed the book and jumped down, and as they started walking toward the main road, Carmen looked over at him. "And for the record, if your mom does kill me over this, I'm so haunting you. Forever. Ghost pranks. All the time."

♰

   Relief. That's what Regina felt immediately when she opened the front door to see Henry standing there with Carmen right by his side—safe, intact, his face flushed from the cold, but otherwise fine. And then, just as quickly, he bolted past her without so much as a glance, rushing up the stairs with a thunderous slam of his bedroom door.

"Henry!" She called out after him, an edge in her voice ricocheting through the house, but he didn't respond. Her shoulders tensed, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned back to the other figure standing awkwardly on the porch. "Thank you." Her voice softened as her hands clasped together at her waist. "For bringing him back."

"No problem."

The woman started to leave, but Regina called after it. "Wait. Perhaps you'd like to stay for dinner. Think of it as another way to say thank you."

"Thanks, but... you should really be thanking Ms. Blanchard. She's the one who knew where he was. I just picked him up."

"Right." Still, she couldn't say thank you to that woman.

Carmen's brows creased a bit, hearing her own words from just seconds before, "I should be a cop."

"No," Regina was quick to say, a humorous chuckle just as quick to leave her mouth, thinking it was an insane idea, "I mean... who else knows what I want... at Granny's?"

Carmen leaned forward a little, "Granny. Goodnight, Madam Mayor."

"Goodnight, Miss Sanchez."

The door shut with a firm click, and Carmen headed for the street where she caught the faintest sight (No, that was an absolute lie—it was a painfully obvious sight) of a yellow bug parked across the street. She stopped dead, giving a low whistle as if it were a stray dog before crossing the street. "Well, you suck at stakeouts."

The drive door opened, and Emma climbed out of it, her movements a bit slow. She wasn't in a rush to answer. She leaned against her car with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the Mills house just across the way. "Does she love him?" She asked, suddenly.

The question made Carmen pause because why was she asking her this and not his mother?

She thought about brushing it off. Emotions were heightened on both ends. But instead, she followed Emma's gaze. "She does," she said finally, her voice quieter now, "Probably more than she's ever loved anything." Because Carmen couldn't remember her loving anything—or anyone—else.

Emma nodded like she'd expected that answer, her focus never straying from the house.

The two women stood there, a beat, before the blonde asked, "You know a place I can stay?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE ♰

u guys i did it. that's a wrap on ep.one yayy thank god 😫 now we can get on to ep.two where there's some enchanted forest scenes 🤗  && i envision ef carmen's style like that girl from van hesling??? anna??? yeah her 😃

updates are gonna slow down since i will be on a cruise for a week so don't think i'm abandoning this fic IM NOT AND I WONT U HEAR ME THIS IS MY CHILD !! & i will be working and jotting down some stuff in my notes on da boat so i won't forget anything hehehe

omg && new cover made by pearibs <333

pls pls i hope u guys enjoyed <333