Note: I've finally found a way around FanFiction's screwy uploading process. I apologize for the wait. In case you haven't been following this story on Ao3, here it is!

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or the various movies and television series I borrow concepts from.

"I already love you, Mother. I always have. Don't you understand?"

Regina tossed and turned in bed. The sheets, a once crisp linen, were bunched by fists. A brutal sleep assaulted the captain's quarters. Harsh screams bounced off the walls and whimpers sounded through the pillow. Her legs kicked and her arms wrenched against the sea of bedclothes just trying to comfort her. She kicked and cried out like she had the moment she came into this wondrous yet cruel galaxy.

Regina would have scolded herself if she were conscious of such an indecent display.

Her heart raced, unknowingly, as she saw Cora's fluttering eyes behind her own. The elder eyes widened at once, seeming to behold her daughter's as if she were birthed from her anew. Her body twitched as Regina's twisted more.

"Mother…"

A finger crooked. Well-reddened lips glistened.

"The people whom you serve are not as they seem."

Regina's head turned on her pillow. Her cheek tingled under the ghost-like touch. She whimpered again as tears wet her clothes.

"No…"

"Tread carefully, my love."

And then her heart hitched as if jerked by a string. Regina's eyes flew up and she came back.

"Honestly, of all the first officers in Cosmofleet history I had to be stuck with the runt of the litter."

Commander Regina Mills stormed down the corridor with an ever present scowl on her face. Her boots made tracks along the floor, smooth and polished as a mirror. Crewmembers jumped out of harm's way, nearly flattening themselves against the bulkheads in order to steer clear of the captain.

And that scowl…

Many thought it a permanent attribute while an uncommon few believed the expression to be an unfortunate hazard of being captain of the most famous starship in Cosmofleet. Regina was not only leader of the prized Storybrooke, but the youngest captain in fleet history and the only female to hold the title. She was the most watched and most revered (as well as hated) humanoid in the Milky Way galaxy. Regina had served for 12 years and knew the contours of her pedestal well. She knew them like she did the countless expectations whispered behind her back and demanded to her face. A burden like that required a stiff upper lip and the freedom to show outright contempt on a whim.

Regina didn't pay mind to the crowds she plowed through nor did she catch the widened looks she would normally see the humor in smirking at. Regina knew all too well the fear she struck in the hearts of men and women, humans and non-humans. On any other day she'd take the opportunity to drink in their fear and enable her devilish smile to feed on their helplessness. Now all she could do about those misconceptions of what it truly meant to carry the mantle of captain was run. Instead of carrying out the feeding and drinking of pathetic emotions she continued to mutter in rage.

"Command should have sent an android. At least they have memory processors that last longer than a microsecond."

Regina had reached her breaking point. The sign of such crisis came in the form of a bluish-gray hatch door and its designation…

Counselor Nolan

Regina pulled up to the door and, upon realizing where she ended up, rolled her eyes. Of all the hatchways and passages, the decks and corridors, it had to be here: C deck at the hospitality of Storybrooke's resident psychiatrist. Oh, the irony.

Due to extended tours in the Outer Reach, the Commonwealth instituted a law that required all fleet vessels to have a certified psychiatrist onboard. The presence of a therapist was held to ease the mind of the captain as well as prevent increasing cases of interstellar delusions (known in Leman's Terms as "spacing out"). The psychological effects of space travel were well studied and documented. Cases ranged from instances of claustrophobia, hallucination, and hyper emotionality (i.e. rage or euphoria). The origins of these psychoses typically stemmed from isolationism and being away from family, friends, and society for months at a time.

There were also occurrences pertaining to more Earthly issues like gender composition, religious attitudes, humanoid and nonhumanoid relations, rank disputes, and romantic entanglements – all of which threaten crew cohesion if overlooked. Managing these interpersonal relationships on Earth could be a tricky obstacle, but in space the likelihood of a mental breakdown in any form increased tenfold. The consequences could mean disastrous results for an entire crew.

All the more reason to encourage sound minds in Cosmofleet's best and brightest with the incorporation of highly trained, 24/7 available professionals. Every vessel provided a safe haven where crew could speak their minds, solve disagreements, and develop the insight to override personal and professional obstacles.

Despite her reservations about revealing her own present burning issues, Regina stowed away the scowl for a neutral frown. She rapped her knuckles on the metallic hatch before clasping her hands behind her back.

The door parted with a hiss.

"Captain, I was not aware we had a meeting scheduled."

Regina continued to stand tall with shoulders thrust back. "The captain does not make appointments," she said, the tone as stiff as her uniform collar.

The counselor gave a hardened glare before breaking out into a smile and embracing Regina. The flash of terror in the captain's eyes humored the counselor who justified her own ambush by calling attention to Regina's clear and present tension.

"Has my brother been pestering you about the sensor arrays again?"

"No," Regina sniffed indignantly and stared off as if her chief science officer was already writing up a proposal to HQ behind her back. The new upgrades were costly enough for Regina to pass over. "No, David wouldn't dare, but I suppose ever senior officer has his or her limits. Kathryn, I don't know how you stand him."

"We're family," the long, golden blonde-haired Kathryn defended with a chuckle and put her hand on Regina's arm. "And family suffers through endless talk of subdural bio probes and carbon compounds."

"It all sounds rather unseemly to me." Regina rolled her eyes, her derision for both unfortunate bloodlines and organic chemistry showing.

Kathryn detected a familiar note of anxiety and softened her eyes. "What is it this time?"

Always appreciative of the counselor's gentle prodding, Regina exhaled and relaxed her gait. She gave the arm a squeeze before allowing it to guide her into the room.

"You tell me, Counselor."

"First officer troubles?"

Before lowering to the sofa, Regina gave a pointed look. "You are far too intuitive to receive the pay of a ship's counselor."

"Well, you did ask."

"I expected you to humor me. I need it."

"I don't think I get paid enough to humor you, Captain."

A laugh bubbled to Regina's lips. "Now that is funny."

They laughed together, each settling back into the cushions.

Counselor's Quarters boasted the most lavish sitting area on the ship. Apparently, Cosmofleet spared no expense in making the psychiatrist's office a welcome place for crew to air out their laundry. The counsel one received here was vital, of course, but a carefully decked space created a safe environment.

White love seats were shaped like half-moons, each of their tips curving towards the opposite facing couch. A plethora of sea green and blue pillows softened the harsh white of the chairs. The oval wood coffee table stood as a centerpiece where coffee or tea served as a middle ground between doctor and patient. The rest of the room was painted in soft green, blue, and white to match the sitting area. Kathryn's desk waited disused and insignificant off in a corner. Soft lamplight – a warm gold, not the silver fluorescence beating down on corridor pedestrians – washed over visitors' faces. A tranquil, bubbling fish tank stood along one wall and encompassed a variety of vibrantly colored fish from Bota Baui's tropical waters.

Nothing looked drab or intimidating. It gave off a homey impression, one of relaxation. No sharp edges or harsh expectations, just soft curves and an organic touch. Bluntly put, it was very much unlike the captain's quarters.

After a brief sweep of the room Regina's eyes finally fell on the steaming pot of tea between them.

"Either you're clairvoyant or I'm intruding on an imminent session." Before Kathryn uttered a syllable Regina was already on her feet. "I apologize for intruding. It's late afternoon and I really do have much to take care of."

"But there's no –"

"It's fine. I'll get out of your hair."

"Regina, this is nonsense! You must stay. I insist."

"Or what?" the captain challenged with a twist of her mouth and a raise of her brow. "You'll declare me mentally incompetent?"

"Wouldn't you rather it come from me than Doctor Blanchard?"

"Your threats are becoming more striking every time I come here. How on Earth do you shake me so?" At Kathryn's stubborn silence, Regina sighed and returned to the cushion. "Very well. You win."

"Tea?" Kathryn fashioned a cheery smile while handing over the cup.

Threads of steam slithered up from the liquid and warmed Regina's nose as she inhaled. She closed her eyes, allowing the scent of chamomile to tender her anxiety.

It was easy enough to relax in the presence of a personal friend. Kathryn had joined the crew two years ago, thereby adding a second MD to the roster. Her attendance aboard Storybrooke put many crewmembers on edge. Having a shrink in their midst made them feel uncomfortable and predisposed to mental instability because why else would the fleet send her there? Many feared Counselor Nolan was just waiting for them to crack.

In the beginning, the captain received a few complaints, all of which were baseless. Her twin brother, David, who was greatly admired amongst the lower decks, quelled the worst of these negative feelings. The captain, having experience in these matters, would not allow dissent in the ranks, nor bad blood between crewmembers. Amity aboard a ship bred safety and security for all and she saw to it personally.

As a result, Regina would act as host to the counselor and assure her that her skills were wanted onboard. Kathryn didn't want to be a bother, and yet she saw ample reason to stick it out for the sake of the crew's health. It was through the captain's assurances and Kathryn's tea and biscuits that the two became good friends.

In time, Storybrooke's resident psychiatrist became a valued and respected part of the crew. Although her surprisingly welcome role as the commander's only friend onboard rustled suspicion amongst some, they accepted it nonetheless. Regina herself retained misgivings about growing close to Kathryn. She did not have 'close' friends on Earth. She didn't relinquish trust easily. One had to go through a grueling assessment in order to be even considered friend material. But patient, fearless Kathryn passed with flying colors. She had come to be someone Regina trusted. Kathryn had a great sense of integrity and attention to rules the captain hadn't seen in anyone in a long time. More than anything, Regina admired the woman's defiant side, which upheld the needs of a crewmember's mental stability above fleet rules. Like the captain, she would do whatever was necessary to keep her home and the people in it safe from harm.

But Kathryn wasn't all stiff and proper. She had a humorous side and a caring nature that balanced well with Regina's cold temperament. Kathryn's charming smile and lovely blue eyes were similar to that of her brother, whom loved her and looked up to her dearly and was never afraid to show it. Sometimes it proved hard for Regina to reconcile the similarities between the siblings. They indeed had matching hand gestures and an annoying (though oddly endearing) need to please. However, where David acted awkwardly civil, Kathryn took on a rather playful nature. Her demeanor was less tense than David's. She didn't fear reprimand and wouldn't think twice about pulling the captain's leg. She didn't tip toe around authority and that's exactly why Regina felt so comfortable around her. Kathryn was adored for her courage and her spunk. It's why Regina saw fit to befriend her.

"I really didn't know you'd be stopping by," Kathryn said. "And there's no patient. My evening is completely open."

"Maybe that's what has me worried. A young, beautiful woman such as yourself shouldn't be confined to drinking tea alone. You need to find yourself someone." Regina's eyes shifted hesitantly as she scrambled for the right word. "To… socialize with and… well, date."

"That chamomile must be going to your head if you've forgotten fleet rules. You do know romance in the work place is frowned upon, right? And that you're willingly advising me to break that rule?"

"I'm not so naïve as to think fleet personnel do not engage in romantic liaisons left and right – even amongst my own crew. I can't police every relationship onboard. And while I would never advise them to break regulation, you are different. We're friends. We know each other."

Kathryn's head shook idly. "Mm, no. You let me know you. I know not many here are given that chance. And the fact that I do know you helps me detect when you're lying to me." The stare she fastened on Regina bore unflinchingly. "Although I'm flattered that you worry over me and my lonely tea parties, that's not what has set you on edge. Now tell me… what has the Lieutenant Commander done to upset you this time?"

Regina sighed. "Testing my patience – again! I don't know how much more I can take. I cannot very well do my duty as commander when I have an imbecile for a first officer."

"I thought he graduated from the academy at the top of his class? When you took him on didn't you say he – what's his name? Wanker? – had a theoretically promising career in Cosmofleet?"

Wanker. Regina shook her head, suppressing her amusement. The man garnered just as much amusement as disdain among her senior officers. He stuck out like a sore thumb: incredibly short of height, inky black crew cut hair, a persistent throat clearing habit, and a pinched face that made him look like he possessed a permanent squint.

His appearance may have been unpleasant, but it was his on-duty performance that made him insufferable. Rumple had already washed his hands of the guy, threatening him with a lashing, lizard-like tongue that if Waylor so much as asked to take the helm, he'd be sorry. Rumple would hold his need for a trip to the lavatory for eternity before letting the "grease ball human" lay a finger on his precious controls. Of course, to Rumple, "human" was curse enough.

Belle, much to her gentle nature, reserved judgment and became Waylor's one and only defender. To David, who treasured the subtle hum of the hyperdrive, Waylor's very hacking presence was an imposition. At one time, his short, stubby fingers pressed a wrong button that engaged a critical system meltdown. Who knew what alarm a cough would set off? And Ruby… Regina hardly found herself in a moment of weakness, but with Ruby's snark on the bridge, the girl's station there did feel justified.

Then there was Kathryn who frequently referred to the man as First Officer "Wanker" when they weren't on duty. Although that name never left the room, Kathryn could never be accused of somber wit.

"Waylor," corrected Regina with an indulgent grin. "The key word you mentioned being theoretically. He may have been a hot shot in the classroom, but out here he is incompetent. He can't pilot his way out of a vacant shuttlebay!" Regina's breathing became faster while her hand gestures more erratic. She sliced the air with the edge of her hand and said, "Kathryn, I literally have to watch his every move just to ensure the artificial grav systems don't collapse again."

The counselor gasped, remembering the 96 minutes every crewmember had to suffer floating around the ship until David and Leroy managed to get the onboard gravity back on line. "Oh," clapping a hand over her developing giggle, "that was him?"

Regina nodded gravely. "I've already kept anything containing buttons and levers on the main bridge off limits as he cannot go within a foot of any of it before something goes wrong. Every time I turn around alarm bells go off! His skills in the shuttle are atrocious – I have Petty Officer Claude shadowing him on assignment. Machines clearly do not like the man."

Kathryn smiled, a wry expression outlining her features. "You don't like him."

"Does it matter? If he did his job correctly I still wouldn't like him. My personal feelings towards him have nothing to do with our professional rapport."

"They did when Emma was your first officer."

A cold, shadowy blanket enveloped Regina. Her face fell sullenly without her permission. There were some things in this galaxy that could twist the interiors of a person, make them sour, nauseous, sick beyond belief. For Regina it was a name and a time – the very mention of either that contorted her insides until they felt ripped from her empty cavity. It felt unreasonable, raw, and sudden. Much like Emma's resignation.

"I told you not to call her that."

"What, because 'that woman' is so specific? It took me months to figure out who you were talking about, Regina."

Kathryn replaced her empty cup to its saucer with a dainty clink and put it back on the table next to Regina's untouched cup. She sighed, fingering through her long hair with an air of frustration. A part of her regretted bringing up Emma in the first place. Regina was clearly distressed (had been since she arrived at her door). Another part of Kathryn knew it was a long time coming. Lieutenant Commander Waylor had been a subject of disappointment since the day he set foot aboard Storybrooke. At the time, Kathryn herself had only been in service to the starship one year, yet she knew a captain's frustration when she saw it. Waylor was not his predecessor and would never be his predecessor.

Although Kathryn hadn't the pleasure of meeting Emma, the crew boasted much praise for their former first officer. Enough talk circulated across all decks that Kathryn received a fair opinion of her. In addition to crew gossip, Regina's sporadic opinions shed some light on who 'that woman' really was and what she meant to the Storybrooke.

Pulling herself from contemplation, Kathryn glanced across the coffee table and noticed how uncommonly quiet her friend had become. Poor Regina had been losing steam these days. Even at the mention of Emma she could only glare half-heartedly and remind Kathryn of her bitter sentimentality. She almost wished for the captain's infamous obstinacy and her rants on red leather jackets and scuffed floors. At least then Regina looked like an active human being. This Regina, half-slumped on the sofa and giving her tea a rueful stare, appeared anything but.

Kathryn leaned forward, clasping her hands on her knee. She fought to keep the psychiatrist out of her voice when she asked, "How have you been sleeping?"

"Like a captain," Regina answered pithily. "Uneasily and not very often."

Kathryn eyed her pointedly, albeit scolding. "You should have thought about that before you accepted promotion."

Regina shook her head, grinning. This was why she loved Kathryn. The doctor wasn't afraid to ruffle her feathers. In fact, she did so with aplomb and a catlike smile. She knew exactly how to navigate around the sharp points of Regina's temperament, how hard to prod, when to push, what place on Regina's shoulder that needed a kindly squeeze.

Unprepared to expand on the ghosts of her past, Regina gave in to the counselor. "Nightmares have a way of opening old wounds."

A nod from Kathryn indicated that nothing more needed to be said. She had extracted bits and pieces of Regina's history through these friendly exchanges. Sometimes Regina wouldn't even realize she was doing so, and when she gave signs of shock or withdrawal Kathryn wisely backed off and changed the subject. It was a skillful dance and dodge of getting to know one such as Regina Mills, but Kathryn already made up her mind a long time ago. Regina may be an ice queen, but she was worth getting to know.

Consequently, Regina caved in on herself again, falling silent and grave. The mounting number of sleepless nights caught up to her in drooping lids, dark circles under her eyes, and a tottering posture. When she felt her equilibrium tilt, she swallowed against the acid churning in her stomach and propped herself up with a hand to the sofa's arm. She leaned heavily into it, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to the migraine between her brows. Her queasy stomach did somersaults. She felt sick, and the fact that she knew why made it all the more worse.

"Tread carefully, my love."

It had been the first of many nightmares. Her mother's widening brown eyes plagued her night after night with no reprieve. Cora's cryptic warning went to war with Regina's own sense of reality.

Tragedy hadn't struck quick enough. It endured to punish and pummel, death's fists striking blow after blow. The inevitability of death opened Cora's heart for the first and last time. Witnessing the regret in her mother's eyes took Regina's breath away – she didn't believe it possible. She did believe though when they shared their last breaths as family. Cora loved her. Yet with this untimely affirmation came unrecognizable liability. Preconceptions would fall like dominos and shake the foundations of everything Regina believed in.

A finger could be pointed in blame, but it would be baseless without reason and proof. She couldn't tell anyone of this. Even with the proper evidence, Regina would be tried for treason against her government. She had no way of knowing what her mother meant. She had not the means to investigate what with her drowning in personnel reports and arguing with Leroy about what upgrades to lavish their engine. She didn't have time to dabble in threats and conspiracies when she hardly got within a few parsecs of Earth these days. Between babysitting her senior officers and the readily available nightmares awaiting her every night, there were more stressful issues to occupy her time. Regina was never one for sarcasm, but she was finding herself growing fond of this means to lighten the gloom.

She could not very well tell Kathryn.

"I could get a decent night's rest if I didn't have to worry about Waylor."

"From what you've told me these past few months I should think he ought to come with a warning label."

"Which is precisely why I intend to get rid of him pronto." Regina noted her friend's surprise and pressed, "He is a danger to this ship, Kathryn. Why on Earth wouldn't I entertain the idea?"

"Because then you will have to consider a replacement. The whole process takes time and money Command doesn't lend so willingly these days. Regina, you know you have my full support, but you will, no doubt, receive heavy resistance from the admirals."

"I'd rather face them than 'oops, I flipped the wrong switch' Waylor. Ugh, he is so revolting!"

"There are other things you should consider before cutting this man's career short. You'll have to explain to possible candidates why the Storybrooke can't hold on to its first officer for more than a few months." Kathryn held her hands up as the scowl she was receiving felt much like being held at blaster point. "I'm just saying what you're thinking. People will ask questions you won't want to answer. You can't expect them to see past your icy exterior in the span of an interview. And we both know the only person who can measure up is a million lightyears away on a planet you refuse to set foot on."

Tilting her head, Regina narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

Kathryn cocked her head as well. She lifted her cup to her lips but before sipping replied, "I think you know what I'm saying."

"What makes you think she would even see me? It's been two years and I haven't received the slightest transmission."

"Contrary to what you so often rant on about, this is not about her, Regina. And, to be honest, this is not about getting Storybrooke its perfect first officer. This is for your sake as much as hers. You need closure, my friend, and that won't happen when you are flying off to the other side of the galaxy to evade it."

"I cannot very well abandon my post just to get railroaded into another debate with the princess of authority issues," Regina said with an irate wave of her hand. Her eyes were wide and fiery with uncertainty over the future as well as the past. "No," she settled firmly, laying her hands on the planes of her thighs with precision. "No, I will not."

"Vaporize me," mumbled Kathryn. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation. "She's trying to convince herself."

"It's just not right for the crew at this time," Regina declared, mostly to herself. "If I have to let Waylor go, then so be it. I'd be happier for it and so would the rest of the ship. Honestly, I might request Command to send an android as first officer. At least I could wipe their memory whenever I wanted."

"Regina…" The counselor's admonishing tone carried with it an urgency to see reason.

The commander squirmed in place, her face contorting from nervousness to frustration and back again. "But she's… she's stubborn. So stubborn."

Kathryn smiled. "I'm sure you'll find your way around it. You always did, according to talk around the ship."

"You place far too much faith in water cooler gossip, Counselor."

"Even the most implausible can be true."

"For the record, what you are doing is coercion."

"Be that as it may, but I'm shocked, Regina, that you'd think I wouldn't misuse my power to help a friend."

"Help?" Regina snorted. "Snowball's chance in a supernova. I don't even think I saved any of my civilian clothing," she noted as an afterthought. A huff slipped from her lips. "I don't want to buy new clothes. And I hate those gods damned air cab drivers! They don't clean those seats. They are atrocious! This whole idea will put me in a predicament and you, my friend, will be to blame for it."

Smirking, Kathryn just laid back into the couch and put on a mask of ignorance. "I'll be here waiting for you when you get back." She winked as Regina escorted herself out.

Regina had every reason to be nervous about returning to Earth and not just because of Emma. She rarely set foot on her home planet and only found herself there when mandated by her superiors. When she was on Earth, she'd confine herself to the glossy floors and impeccable conference rooms of the Presidio. Otherwise, in times of furlough or when the Storybrooke needed advanced repairs, Regina would dock at the orbital space station along with the rest of the crew. But unlike her crew she did not join the shuttle rides down to the surface and when she finally did, after two years at the behest of her friend and counselor, Regina became distraught.

"Business or pleasure?"

Standing on the other side of the transparisteel divider, Regina stared at the GTSA officer like he came from out of a black hole. "It is 2260. Why does your administration persist in asking such an asinine question?" At the attendant's still waiting she snapped, "Neither," and ripped her passport out of his hands.

Galactic Transportation Security Administration didn't approve of outright hostility and they were well within their government issued rights to arrest anyone who showed the slightest signs. However, with a face and reputation like Commander Mills, one could pass through the highest levels of security undeterred. And, sporting an annoyed roll of the eyes, Regina did just that.

Even out of uniform there was no hiding her illustrious image. She just wanted to pass through unnoticed, finish what she came there to do, and get out with her dignity intact. The last thing she wanted to worry about was paparazzi.

Regina had anticipated walking amongst civilians in their style, but she owned little of that sort since purging her cabin closet two years ago. What remained came in the form of plain black pants, divested of a gold stripe on its outside seam, and a charcoal gray scoop neck shirt. Wrapped in a black blazer as a means to tie her back to her business formal roots, Regina threw herself amongst the civilian wolves.

Inevitably, her ensemble hardly blended in with the residents. She couldn't pass for a working class Earthling if she had help from makeover police. She would have slapped every one of their faces for trying to get her into anything faded or frayed. And gods forbid she strut around in unpleated trousers.

She passed through the airport's sliding doors and felt the ends of her hair tickle her neck. A smoggy breeze stirred up as if to welcome her home. Heels clicked to a halt on the duracrete. Regina paled at her surroundings.

What a wretched, imposing place. What pollution and corruption. She hadn't always felt this way. She only now developed this novel sense of alienation.

The vast expanse of the planet forced her to adapt fast, regardless of the many months she'd spent onboard a classy, yet claustrophobic Regal-class starship. Air cabs, hovercars, and sky buses crisscrossed overhead, the perpetual drones of their engines piercing her normally untroubled ears. Passersby knocked shoulders without so much as a "pardon me." A litany of solicitors berated young men and women on the sidewalks to join the fight against Commonwealth's bigotry – lawyers from all walks of politics including libertarian, socialist, and anarchist. Their clipboards flapped unwanted before faces until someone signed it or spat on it.

Everything about this place assaulted her senses. She stood unprepared for this discomfort, not to mention further on guard. Taking a deep breath, Regina exhaled it in one long rush. She pulled a small datapad from her purse and pulled up the coordinates. Before docking in Earth's orbit, Regina scavenged through several databases until she located the right "Emma Swan." There were a total of thirteen on Earth, but only one could pick the unholiest of places to employ themselves.

Replacing the datapad with a sniff, Regina scaled one of many stairways leading to the transit platform. This particular station rose a mere four stories above ground level and came with an overwhelming stench of alcohol (and not the kind that you rub). She took careful pains not to come into contact with any coughing youngster, twitching android, or persons in general. Approaching the edge of the platform, Regina hailed the cleanest looking air cab she could spot.

A 20-minute crummy backseat ride and several bad jokes later, Regina's cab pulled up to "Dusty's Airship Supply and Repair." She blindly tipped her flat-humored driver and strode up to the building monstrosity with a look of astonishment. Her eyes glazed over the business – correction: shipyard – from bottom to top and back again. The repair shop was so enormous it could comprise the entire Storybrooke, yet this particular facility did not service Cosmofleet vessels. Instead, it provided repairs for commercial liners. The enclosed building had a look of Old World barge factories whose wide sliding doors on either end parted for the capacity of a ship to pass through. And that was just from Regina's perspective; she was sure the back of the compound extended another twenty blocks than she could see.

Stepping up to the nearest hanger opening, Regina thrust back her shoulders and held her chin high in the hopes that her status will get her quick, precise answers. She asked the first fellow in sight who pointed her down a long, narrow passage of a transport's bisected aft.

The further Regina ventured into the hanger the less imposing she felt. There were all manner and sizes of people at work here: humans and non-humans, males and females, students, academy dropouts, and past retirement age folk. They all seemed to work with more ethos than Regina might think to find at an airship repair shop. There were welders, engineers, and electricians. Clicking down duracrete in her blazer and pumps, Regina couldn't be more out of place.

Upon further scrutiny, Regina altered her assumptions. It was not the bisected aft of a ship, but a purposeful choice of style with two wing-like stabilizers. Regina quirked a brow. A most curious design. She ran her fingers along the exterior, noting the hull's aged scoring.

She reached the cleft of the two wings and what she supposed was the main exterior engine. Scaffolding was poised under the dead engine while a worker used it for the comfort of lying on her back while being able to reach necessary repairs. Her long blonde hair cascaded over the edge of the framework and fluttered in the breeze of the hanger's ventilation. Regina craned her neck to catch sight of its subtle dance in midair.

"I don't know if this is a regression or you just like putting your hands in hazardous places."

The mechanic's tinkering froze. Her arms were still elbow deep in the hull's cavity when her blonde head made a little tilt to the side. The pause could have been to prepare herself or to second-guess the identity of the woman addressing her. In any case, no civilian in killer heels came clicking up to her these days and sure as seven hells not through a shipyard.

She put the spanner down and extracted a small component from the engine. She then carefully scaled the scaffolding back to ground level.

"I always had a way with fixing engines," Emma said, picking up a rag from her work space and began cleaning the palm-sized piece of equipment.

"I remember."

Busy hands stopped. Emma stared unflinchingly at the part. The moment passed and then she returned to polishing.

"How did you know it was me?" Regina found herself asking. Her brows pinched together at how stupid a question it was.

"We don't get a lot of your people around here."

Emma had yet to meet her face. It had been two years and the woman still wouldn't give the captain the courtesy. "My people?" asked Regina, shifted from one foot to the other and grinding her teeth.

Emma's obliviousness allowed Regina to give her an unabashed once over. Not much changed since they last saw one another. Emma's golden mane of hair still hung in a tangled mess past her shoulders. Her jeans were tattered in places, her dark red t-shirt cut off at muscular shoulders, and the veins in her hands became prominent under the stress of work. She carried herself with the experience of having seen the other side of the galaxy and lived to talk about it, and yet somehow managed to look young and surprisingly more attractive despite.

But some things were inescapable from time. The lines in her forehead were a bit deeper, furrowing to the more Earthly hardships. Her strides were shorter, her footfalls heavier due to the planet's natural gravity. Emma walked like she carried a monstrous weight. Her shoulders sagged to the invisible burden. Her skin glowed brighter from sun exposure, but something told Regina her eyes did not contain the same radiance. She couldn't tell how green those eyes still enflamed or how many lines around them the girl had developed over the years because Emma still wouldn't look at her.

Regina's eyes fluttered dangerously with the shake of her head. "My people… Is that supposed to be some sort of dig towards my sense of fashion?"

"Cosmofleet," Emma clarified. "They don't come around here. This shipyard takes on mostly commercial vessels and personal luxury cruisers." Upon finishing the equipment's polishing, Emma placed it on her makeshift worktable. She used the dirty rag to scrub the excess grease from her palms. She sighed heavily. Her eyes flicked up, finally, to behold Regina. "You have any of that that needs fixing?"

The captain's features fell, but only for a second. She blinked at the grim line of Emma's mouth and lifted her eye line. Defiant to the last, Regina tilted her chin up and demanded, "What in seven hells are you doing here, Miss Swan?"

Sluggish from spending hours under an ion engine, Emma put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to one leg. "This must be a serious concern of yours. You don't swear."

"Correction, you have never heard me swear. And don't change the subject."

Emma shrugged, scanning the hanger permeated by fumes, steam, and the occasional shower of sparks. "I work here."

"Obviously," Regina droned and then cocked her head. "Why?"

"What's it to a commander in the fleet?"

The tone just barely reached smarting level, but a part of Regina flamed anew. Something once thought lost rustled to the call and sprang into action. Regina's lip curled while simultaneously feeling her insides coated in liquid adrenaline. She was consumed by it, bathed euphoric in flames. The only comparison could be felt slingshot around a moon at 12 G's.

Then Regina faltered, realizing that in her reverie of bitching out her former first officer Emma was already answering.

"… high-ranking position and well-respected by my co-workers. The hours are even good enough that I get adequate time off. The boss even lets me test drive some of the cruisers before the owners come round to pick them up." Emma shifted on her restless feet, turning a shoulder in and daring the captain to rain on her parade. "I get to do the three most important things in my life…" She used the fingers of her hand to list off, "Fix things, fly, and be with my kid. I've got no other priorities and that's damned fine by me."

Resentment laced Emma's words without her noticing. Regrets and half-fulfilled dreams. Memories of plasma streams on diamond studded velvet, of blaster grazes, smoke hazes, and rousing battle cries. There was no way of getting back to them, Emma's face told Regina. There was no honest means for Emma to get back to her stars. All she saw now were constellations from a meaningless spot on planet Earth. Emma Swan's star struck eyes had long gone dim.

Regina's exhale trembled on its way out. She blinked back the sting in her eyes as she looked on what this woman had become. A part of Regina felt to blame. She should have tried harder to retain the haphazard, though unique, skills of ex-First Officer Swan. She should have pushed aside her feelings and asked the questions a commander should have demanded of their subordinate. Another part of Regina raged at Emma for allowing herself to slip away – for that was exactly how Emma had left. She wanted to take her by her sculpted, grease-stained shoulders and shake her until some sense dawned on that misguided excuse for a brain. She hated Emma for being so foolish and so weak as to think Cosmofleet had outgrown her. Regina felt so much hate for one person and so much guilt on her own part that the conflicting salvo of emotions struck her unable to speak.

Unexpected, though no less fitting.

The straps of her purse cut into her shoulder and Regina brought her hand to join the other in hanging onto it, hardly realizing the purse was the only thing grounding her more intense reactions. She forced her eyebrow into an arch. "So the civilian life suits you, does it?"

"It does," Emma claimed, adding to the folly of their game.

"You sound sure of yourself. I hope you're not putting on a show for my sake."

"You're not my commanding officer, Regina. I don't have to bust my ass anymore to please you and your unbending standards."

"Oh, you made that quite clear even when I did hold sway over you. I can hardly tell the difference these days."

Emma searched the heavy brown eyes, displaying her need to know. "Difference between what?"

"Whether my first officers carry out their orders for the simple, intractable fact that they must or because they are afraid of what I might do if they don't."

"Well," Emma snorted, "I've never been accused of the latter. I know without a doubt that we agree on that, at least."

"Yes."

"Which made me all the more a pain in your ass," added Emma with a trace of sentimentality. She breathed a light sigh and felt the tension slipping away from her shoulders. "So what did they do? Your first officer, I mean."

"What makes you think I always employ ineffectual second-in commands?"

Emma waved a hand. "Just me, I know. But my successor must have made a real ass of himself – or herself – if they have you running back to me."

"I am not running to anyone." Regina crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "And I resent the accusation."

"It's more of an assumption, and a correct one at that."

"Based on what?" Regina choked. Her face thrust forth, reddening deceitfully. "What have I given you in the past few minutes that would lead you to believe I desire your help? You haven't been around for the past two years. How do you know what is or is not taking place aboard my ship?"

"Because you don't change, Regina."

It cut into Regina like a vibroknife. She reared back on her neck, dumbfounded by the charge. Emma's audacity didn't surprise her anymore, but her lack of… faith? That did cause Regina's skin to prickle.

"I'm not stupid, Regina. According to you I'm 'occasionally detrimental,'" she air quoted from memory.

Regina's brows surged at that. "So you did read your performance reviews?"

"Don't change the subject." Emma enjoyed a private laugh at the captain's exaggerated eye roll. Her smartassery didn't get this kind of reaction from her boss, Dusty. He just let her do whatever the hell she wanted, knowing his mechanic could put anything she tore apart back to its rightful splendor and purring more handsomely than before. The thing about pissing off Regina is that her reactions were immediate and often times over-the-top, which lent some feedback as to whether Emma would be flushed out an airlock or sipping cider and trading barbs.

Even if Emma had her eyes closed she could tell Regina was enjoying this. The captain's irate click of her tongue could be heard just over the racket of a nearby drill bit.

"Storybrooke's first officer possessed… deficiencies. I had to let him go. I was under great pressure from my senior officers," Regina held with a nod too deep to be considered truthful. "The details are confidential and not for the eyes or ears of someone who made the choice to quit their duties."

Not missing a beat, Emma folded her arms and gestured with a jut of her chin. "Are you asking me to come back?"

Regina bit the inside of her cheek, stalling for a justification. She herself needed to know as well. It would have helped to be clued in on a 'why' before she came waltzing out of the blue and up to Emma Swan. She recalled the time she and the counselor shared tea not a week ago. Kathryn advised, as Regina's conveniently innocent, no ifs ands or buts friend, that she should seek closure.

But how? What sort of closure could be gained from seeing Emma again? What could be gained from standing face-to-face with a faintly unhappy individual from her past?

Regina's shoulders fell with her sigh. Oh, why on Earth had she put herself in this position?

"There is no conceivable reason why the fleet would accept you back. They don't take kindly to people prone to sudden behavior changes. Case in point: A cadet is promoted to Lieutenant Commander, runs with it for a year before resigning. Short of any sort of explanation, she leaves as swiftly as she came. No transmission, no hologram, nothing for two years and three months. Her new lifestyle includes not flying starships but earning base rate pay in repairing them. And in a stuffy hanger," Regina spat out, "on Earth."

Emma's eyes had widened, centimeter-by-centimeter, until the captain's speech came to a close. With the green of her irises as big as saucers, Emma fought the need to retreat from Regina's clear and present indignation. Apparently, this was not Storybrooke's newly terminated first officer but Emma that was being taken issue with. "O-okay…"

Chest heaving, Regina was affected more emotionally than physically. Although winded, her chest prickled to flashback moments spent perspiring in a defunct cooling system of a shuttle (Emma smiling sheepishly in a tangle of smoking wires), snagged in midair by a grappler which prevented a perilous fall over a cliff face and fracturing her collar bone in the process (overt heroics at fault), and frequenting the playground on furlough (giggles echoing back to her despite their waning memory).

"But Command's shortcomings have never stopped me," Regina finally settled. "I've served my government with distinction. Insurrections have been prevented far and wide along the Reach because of my swift negotiations. Earth is still the central hub of the galaxy, the Commonwealth its shining beacon of leadership mostly due to the high aptitude my record has encouraged at the academy."

"Modest as usual," mumbled Emma.

"I can and will employ whoever I damn well please, and Command will have nothing to say about it. So… yes, I am asking you to return to your previous post as first officer of the U.S.S. Storybrooke."

"No."

Regina blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I mean: I respectfully decline your offer."

Dumbstruck, Regina's arms fell to her sides. No captain would willingly admit to desperation, nor would they be reduced to grasping at straws. Captains strategized out of tight situations and were masters at improvising solutions when pressed by further risk. At the moment, Regina lacked the will to conceal her desire, the strategy to persuade, and the ruthless tact at escaping humiliation.

Damn you, Kathryn, Regina thought.

"It isn't an offer," she snatched out of the thin, vapor-clouded air. Reclaiming her just authority, Regina straightened and declared, "It is an order."

Emma gave a chuckle. "You can't order me to reenlist."

"So you would rather sulk in a mediocre position at a commercial shipyard and make barely above pittance for credits? When you could earn superior pay and be second-in-command of the grandest vessel in the galaxy? Have you spaced out, dear?"

"Insulting me and the people I work with is not going to get you within a lightyear of what you want. Gods, you used to call me juvenile."

"I am not messing around, Miss Swan. Please, for once in your life, give me the courtesy of taking the offer seriously."

"You think I'm saying 'no' for kicks? Do you think I enjoy this invasion of privacy? I didn't want you showing up. This is where I work, Regina. I'm respected here. Don't you dare come back after two years and expect me to fall back in line like a good little officer. I won't hear any more of your speeches, not when you talk down to me like you do."

"I take that as a long-winded and absolute 'no.'"

Emma returned the glare with one of her own. "Damn straight."

Sighing, Regina looked for something to level her frustration at. It didn't take a rocket scientist to gather that the captain did not take failure well. The fact that she had failed, utterly, knocked her down a bit. She brought a hand to her head. She was tired, so, so tired. The shuttle ride to Earth… her bustling surroundings… seeing Emma again after all this time and not having anything to show for it but guilt and hatred…

"Fine," she whispered, waving a hand in allowance. She didn't know if Emma overheard and it hardly mattered.

Battling fatigue with every last shred of stamina Regina had in her, she lifted her head. Her eyes clapped on Emma's. It was everything left unsaid, and a goodbye. Regina turned her back and made to leave.

Suddenly, she paused and twirled without proper cause. "Tell Henry I said hello." Regina managed to get it out before her better judgment clamped her throat shut. She cleared her throat unconsciously as if her reflexes were not her own.

Emma studied her for a moment, at a loss for how to respond. Just minutes ago she was not-so-subtly demanding Regina to stay out of her life and now the look on the captain's face and how she humbly begged her to pass along a simple "hello" and the way it looked like she was choking over her own words made Emma falter.

Hesitant, she glanced at her feet and chewed on her bottom lip before meeting expectant brown eyes. "Sure," she responded without really having to think too deeply about it. She swallowed hard enough to hear it.

Regina gave a small, rare smile upon receiving her answer and then left.