For those unaware, Lana starred as Trina Decker in "Swingtown" (2008.) It's an awesome show that I highly recommend if you haven't already seen it. Many thanks to skyscholar/lost-coin from Tumblr for the original prompt idea: "Regina dies in Storybrooke. Emma moves on and becomes police chief in Swingtown. Encountering Trina, Emma and Henry immediately perceive she is Regina. Trina is unaware, but with Emma's arrival, her dreams of Emma begin."

I made quite a few changes to account for Regina's reincarnation and the timeline difference, along with some fun AU alterations, but the general idea is about the same, and I'm very excited to explore where this goes. In the spirit of having familiar faces around, many characters in the Swingtown setting will be Storybrooke characters, and we'll simply pretend they aren't from the Enchanted Forest. I start off with the pilot episode of Swingtown but diverge from Trina's storyline with her husband, so for any Trina/Tom fans, I'm sorry, but this ends with Swan Queen. Apologies for any inaccuracies in this fic, my 70's research is minimum and I'm mostly writing this for fun. As always, I am eternally grateful for your faves, follows, and reviews. Hope you enjoy. ;)

"You're going to wear through your boots if you keep pacing like that, my love." Regina held out her hands, fingers outstretched for her wife. After a long moment of regarding the very pregnant brunette laying reclined on a mountain of pillows, Emma sighed and relented, gracefully dropping to a knee next to the bed to grasp Regina's hands and press a kiss to her knuckles.

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"You've nothing to be worried about. I will be fine, our baby will be fine."

The blonde's brows gently furrowed together. "I know our baby will be fine, but you are weakening, Regina. The baby drains on your magic more with each day. And Doc said-"

"Nevermind the dwarf, dear," Regina said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Our child is powerful, but it's nothing I can't handle. One more week and you'll see."

"One more week and it will be the three of us?" Emma murmured, smiling softly, green eyes crinkling as she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. Regina automatically drew her into her arms, the blonde curling around her belly to fit together as closely as possible.

"Indeed. You, me, and little Henry or Ruth."

"I really hope it's a boy," said Emma, nuzzling her face into Regina's thick mane of dark hair. The brunette chuckled, silently hoping it was a boy too. She so dearly wanted to pass her father's name down to her own child.

"You would prefer a little prince to a princess?" she asked instead. Emma grinned bashfully.

"Well, I don't mind either way… I'm just not fond of the name 'Ruth'."

"Don't let your father hear you saying that," the brunette teased, her laughter swallowed off when her wife kissed her soundly on the lips. She closed her eyes and melted into the kiss, feeling warm hands slide onto her belly with soothing circular motions. Emma broke away only to pepper kisses down the brunette's throat and chest until her lips were brushing over the round bump of their child magically conceived by True Love.

"Hey, go easy on your mother for me, okay, little bean?" she whispered against her wife's stomach. "We love you very much, and we can't wait to meet you."

When she glanced back up, Regina's eyes were wet with unshed tears and her lips were spread in a beautiful smile. "I love you, Emma," she murmured, voice husky with emotion.

"I love you too, my Queen," the blonde husked, smiling against her belly. The tease earned her a little gasp and a smoldering look of desire before Regina was dragging her upwards by the collar of her tunic.

"Come here," the brunette growled, smothering her wife's laughter with another passionate, searing kiss that left them both lightheaded and breathlessly in love.

Three weeks.

That was how long it took for her to finally break.

"Emma, you have to be strong, sweetheart," Snow had whispered every time she found her daughter crumpled up in her bedchambers sobbing so hard that she actually lost her voice, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, her knuckles shattered and bloodied from where she would strike out at the stone walls with every shriek of despair because it just wasn't fair.

"I know it hurts. I know," Snow would whisper into her hair as she clung to her, her voice tight with pain. "We miss her too, baby. We'll get through this together."

"I can't," Emma had sobbed, pressing her swollen eyes against her mother's shoulder. "I can't, mother, I can't! I can't do this without her!"

Snow had taken over as Queen shortly thereafter. The White Kingdom had been reeling from the loss of Queen Regina and did not fight the issue when it was announced that Emma was stepping down. How could they blame her? The two magical women were not only True Loves but also intimately tied together by their magic bond. It was whispered among the people - told first by a maid that had been present during the Queen's labour - that the moment Regina died after giving birth to prince Henry, Emma had screamed out in pure agony, as if her very soul had been torn in two. She was never quite the same after that moment, as if a part of her had been lost along with her wife.

"We are here for you," Charming had whispered as he held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her upright. "Tell me what you need, Emma. Please. Let me help you."

She'd resisted. Fought it. Thrashed against the urge to give up with everything left in her because she knew what Regina would have said. You have to be strong now, for Henry, Regina's voice demanded in her mind, and sometimes it sounded so real and so tangible that she would snap her head up and look around wildly, half expecting to see her wife standing in front of her with a stern expression on her face.

But Regina remained nothing but a memory.

She tended to Henry, of course. He was all she had left of Regina, and what little feeling she had left within her, she gave to him in the form of love. She fed him and cleaned him and carried him everywhere with her, doing what she could whenever he exhibited magical symptoms, anywhere from catching him when he levitated out of his crib to putting out a fire caused by his crying fits. Regina had been right; he was powerful. So powerful and so very out of her league, in fact, that by the third week and the dozenth fire, Emma had gone to her parents with a single request for a magic bean.

"You're leaving us?" Snow had cried, clinging to her daughter's hand with the desperation of a woman who had lost a friend and was now going to lose her daughter and grandson as well. Charming had stood silent, tears slipping down his cheeks as he stared at the two most important women in his life embracing for what was possibly the last time.

"I can't stay here," Emma had whispered. "Henry is too powerful. I don't know how to teach him, how to show him control. It's not safe. And I- I can't-"

Her voice cracked, and she'd stumbled into her father's waiting arms.

"You can't raise him here, in her home," he'd finished for her. He understood, knew full well that Emma's heart broke every day that she lived in these familiar walls, but it didn't make it any less painful for him to accept. He just squeezed her harder, trying to memorize the feeling of his daughter in his arms, the smell of her hair, the exact shade of her green eyes.

"We love you, so- so much," they'd whispered brokenly, the three of them clinging together for the final time. The departure was a private affair - the kingdom would not know that their former Queen and their prince had left the realm until the next day. Emma, clad in her father's cloak, held Henry, swaddled up in the warmest of fabrics. On her back was a bag her mother had filled with supplies, along with some of the finest jewellery and silks they owned, in hopes that it would secure her some form of currency in the new world.

As Charming stood ready with the magic bean in his hand, Snow approached her daughter once more, gently draping a cord necklace around her neck. Emma looked down to find a single bean in a tiny vial attached to the end.

"Come back to us one day - if you can," her mother breathed out, pressing a kiss to her temple. And then Charming threw the bean, clinging to his wife as they stepped back and watched their daughter and infant grandson disappear into the swirling vortex to a land without magic.

"It's all yours!" The agent beams a megawatt smile as he drops the keys into her hand. Emma manages a smile, though she's more focused on keeping a hold of Henry as he wriggles in her arms. He's three years old and is far too excited about moving into a new house, and she can't even blame him.

Their last place had been a small apartment in Boston, and it had been good for the first few years, up until some creep of a guy grew infatuated with the "pretty blonde single mother" who frequented the same coffee shop every other morning. Emma fielded him well enough but she hated the attention and didn't like the man anywhere near Henry. When his advances bordered on stalking, she finally bit the bullet and sold all the jewellery and silks her mother had tucked into her bag. Apparently such items from the Enchanted Forest were greatly cherished in this world, and she'd collected quite a generous sum. Combined with her income from police work - it was dumb luck that her combat experience and quick reflexes saved the life of a Boston police chief who immediately offered her a job - she'd easily packed up and left for Chicago.

Her superiors, highly impressed with her dedication and skill, were the ones to recommend her to the city council in Winnetka, Illinois. The council, in turn, put her in contact with a local real estate agent while simultaneously offering her the position of Chief of Police, their last one having recently retired. The agent found her a lovely little house that was well within her price range and only blocks away from a good local school, so the choice for Emma was obvious.

"So is the little tyke's father going to join you soon? Is he with the moving trucks? Coming from Boston, was it?"

"Uh- no, no," Emma mutters, a flicker of pain going through her eyes before she forces another smile. "No father in the picture. Everything of mine's in the car, so…"

She jerks a thumb in the direction of her yellow Bug, the backseat and trunk crammed full of crumpled boxes. His brows hit his hairline. She'd been very vague about herself and basically agreed to purchase the home outright, which was already a surprise - but a single mother, too? Was she unmarried, divorced, or widowed, he wondered? It just wasn't common.

"Oh. Well then. Moving in won't take long, will it?" he chuckles, trying for humor. Emma fakes a laugh. "Well, I won't keep you. Again, congratulations, ma'am. Hope you'll ring me for the housewarming party."

He smiles and gives a jovial little wink before striding off, packing up the "for sale" sign off the lawn and putting it in the trunk of his car.

"Wave bye-bye, Henry," Emma crows, bouncing him in her arms. He giggles and waves his chubby arms in the air. The agent beams and waves back, quickly ducking into his car as it begins to rain. Emma fumbles with the keyring in one hand while she holds Henry with the other, already grimacing as rain hits her bare shoulders. Of course it would rain while she was in a tanktop.

"Wain, mama!" Henry squeals, his face turned up towards the sky. Emma chuckles, giving up on the keys for a moment to press kisses to her son's chubby cheeks. His inability to make an 'R' sound is endlessly endearing.

"Rain indeed, kid," she murmurs, the modern term rolling off her tongue with ease. It's alarming sometimes, how easily she's adapted into this bizarre world with its slang and behavior and boggling machinery. Sometimes she imagines what her father's face might look like if she were ever to try describing what a vehicle was to him, or her mother's expression were she to introduce her to disco.

Sometimes she wishes desperately that her parents hadn't had a responsibility to the White Kingdom, so that they would have come with her instead.

"Mama," Henry says, breaking through her melancholy by patting her cheeks with his little hands. "You sad again. Finking of Gammy and Gampa?"

He can read her emotions too well, and he knows how much she misses her parents. She'd told him of his grandparents and of Regina as soon as he began having understandable conversations with her, wanting him to know about their family even if he would never get to meet them: his wonderful grandparents, who had supported her when she'd fallen for Regina, and his wonderful other mother, who had broken free of the Dark Kingdom and of Queen Cora to become the benevolent second Queen of the White Kingdom. She left out all the magical and fantastical details, of course - she didn't want him to get bullied by other children for what would sound like ridiculous stories - but he understood the gist of it.

"Yeah," Emma admits with a wry little laugh. "I think your Gammy and Grampa would've liked our new house."

"Mommy too," he agrees with a nod, his hair now flopping wetly into his eyes. He really needs a haircut. She also needs to teach him the difference between "dead" and "in another realm" because she's not sure she'll ever stop hurting every time he mentions his other mother as if she were simply absent. Emma pushes away the sting of sadness, instead blowing a raspberry against his cheek until he bursts out giggling again, happily mashing his nose against hers as they stand on their new porch, laughing in the rain.

The sex is good - it's always good - but as soon she comes down from her high, the pleasure fades quickly. Rolling away from her husband and their current playmate, Trina slides out of bed and pulls on her silk robe.

"Mm, I'm going to get a drink. Carry on," she purrs over her shoulder at the bed before stepping from the bedroom. Tom murmurs an acknowledgement from where his face is buried in the crook of their playmate's neck before returning his attention elsewhere. He'd brought home a ditzy young stewardess from his flight last night and, though the girl was a fun lay, she didn't provide much of substance when it came to pillow talk between rounds.

Retrieving a can of Hawaiian Punch from the fridge, Trina pads lazily into the living room, sipping at her drink while running her other hand through her short hair. She wanders towards the windows to peer outside as she rehydrates, deciding she'll have a talk with Tom once their guest is gone. They've almost never had problems with any of the playmates they've brought home to share before, but they're certainly not in their twenties anymore and Trina doesn't really love inviting a young stewardess into her home and bed. That was how she and Tom first met, after all. She'd been the young stewardess to seduce and then marry the handsome pilot those many years ago.

She's about to turn towards the couch when she notices the bright yellow car parked just across the street. Quirking a brow, her eyes trail towards the opposing house, one that's been empty for months after their last neighbor moved out. Standing on the porch is the real estate agent - whom she recognizes from his many attempts to sell the place - and a blonde woman with a young child in her arms. He gives her a set of keys, packs away the "for sale" sign, and cheerfully drives off with a beaming smile that could blind.

The house has finally sold, then, and it looks like her neighbor is a beauty.

"Hey, hon, I'm gonna give Tammy a ride home," Tom says, emerging from the bedroom, casually dressed in slacks and a polo shirt.

"Hmm?" Trina half-turns, momentarily confused, before remembering that the stewardess's name is Tammy. Right. Said stewardess shuffles out from behind Tom, once more dressed in her uniform, and smiles shyly in Trina's direction.

"It was really nice to, uh- to meet you, Mrs. Decker," Tammy says, blushing red as a tomato. She was less self conscious in bed. Now Trina has to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the embarrassed little waif. "You were really, um-"

"You too," Trina says, distracted, before turning back to the window. Tom pads over to his wife, leaving Tammy waiting awkwardly in the walkway.

"What's so interesting?" he asks, slinging an arm around her waist and peering over her shoulder out the window.

"Our new neighbors," Trina murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips. They watch the woman standing in the rain, peppering kisses on the child in her arms, their faces alight with smiles and laughter. Tom hums appreciatively in his throat.

"She's very attractive - and athletic, by the look of those biceps. Your favourite type, hmm?" He chuckles, the vibration gentle against her back. Trina leans back into his embrace with a smirk.

"Indeed."

The house comes furnished with the basics; bed, couch, a few tables and chairs. The kitchen is a little outdated but Emma doesn't really do fancy cooking or anything so she's not going to complain. She sets Henry down in the living room with the box of his toys, firmly telling him to stay put while she brings in the rest of their stuff. In no time at all, she's emptied the Bug of their boxes and is unpacking their meager belongings, mostly clothes and essentials, a box of books, a few picture frames and items of sentimental value. She hangs her father's cloak at the back of the closet and leaves her baby blanket at the end of the bed before heading back out to her son.

"What should we do for dinner, little man?"

"Pizza!" Henry shouts gleefully. That is certainly one thing this world has going for it: pizza. She grins in agreement and heads over to the phonebook on the little table in the hall, flipping through it until she locates a pizza place in town. Grabbing the phone off the wall, she punches in the number and then twirls the cord around her finger as it rings. A chipper teenager answers and takes her order with gusto, and their food arrives an hour later.

"Thanks, kid. Keep the change." She waves the pimply faced teenager off and retreats into the living room where Henry sits on the couch, bouncing his feet on the cushions in excitement. Dinner is a raucous affair consisting of flying pepperoni pieces and a ridiculous game of The Price is Right on the little television the house came with. Henry takes a great amount of delight in guessing answers despite not really understanding half the questions, and Emma is happy to entertain his adamant arguments that the answer should have totally been dinosaurs.

"Okay, definitely time for bed, kiddo," she finally says when she catches sight of the ugly floral clock on the wall. Henry's lower lip immediately juts out into a pout.

"But I'm not tired," he whines, despite the hilarious fact that his head is drooping like a baby animal resisting the urge to just pass out. Emma chuckles and stands, scooping him up into her arms with ease.

"Well alright, but let's go lie down quietly for a few minutes anyway, yeah?"

He snuggles in against her chest without complaint as she carries him into the master bedroom and gently sets him down on the queen sized mattress, tucking him in under the blankets. He's always been a cuddle-bug and tended to sleep in her bed back in the old apartment anyway, but this is their first night in the new house and she definitely doesn't want to sleep alone tonight.

"Comfy?" she asks, brushing his dark bangs away from his forehead. He mumbles something with his cheek smushed against the pillow and is snoring shortly thereafter. Chuckling under her breath, Emma quietly slips from the room to finish tidying up. The leftover pizza goes into the fridge and she turns the volume on the TV down low until it's just a quiet, pleasant hum of noise in the background.

Retrieving her handbag from the side table, she digs through it until she comes up with a scrap of paper, then goes to sit on the little table in the hall while she makes another call. She'd been told to call whenever, but it's seven in the evening and she hopes it's not considered impolite. She really doesn't want to burn any bridges on her first day in town.

"Hello?" a woman answers after the third ring, her voice rough and tomboyish.

"Uh, hi," Emma begins, clearing her throat. "I was told to call as soon as I was settled in? My name's Emma Swan. I'm the-"

"-new Chief of Police," the woman finishes with a bark of laughter. "Was wondering when I'd hear from you. Welcome to Winnetka, Chief. I'm your Deputy, Lilith Page. Everyone just calls me Lily, or Page."

"Thanks. Good to meet you, Deputy Page."

"You too. Settle in alright?"

"Yeah. We're pretty much unpacked. When can I come in?"

"How about you take tomorrow off, get a feel for the neighborhood, and come in Monday morning? Gives you time to get a babysitter in order. We've got tons of teenagers on a volunteer list if you need recommendations. Good kids."

"That'd be great."

Lily rattles off a few numbers for her and Emma scribbles them down on a scrap of paper, deciding she'll call them tomorrow and arrange a quick meeting before deciding on who to trust with her son.

"Good neighborhood from what I've seen so far," Emma says conversationally as she goes back to twisting the phone cord around her fingers.

"Yup. Good people. Not much to worry about, really. If anything, you'll mostly be dealing with noise complaints and peeping neighbors."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, lots of block parties around here. Just a few cranky old bats or whatnot who'll come crying to us about the fireworks or the music or the kids running around playing. And then there's the prudish ones who peer into neighbor's windows and complain about the swingers. It's no biggie, you'll eventually learn how to field them off."

Emma opens her mouth to ask what a swinger is, but is disrupted by a knock on the door. Confused as to who would visit at this hour, she says, "Hey, sorry, someone's at my door. Call you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Let me know if you need anything. Have a good evening, Chief."

Hanging up, Emma hurries to the door and unlocks it, curiosity overriding her good sense to peek through the peephole first. It might have saved her the embarrassment of what happened next.

The door swings open and she's greeted by two people standing on her porch. One, a handsome man dressed for an evening jog. The other, her dead wife.

"Regina?" she breathes out, feeling as if all the air has just been punched out of her lungs. She wonders if she's hallucinating, and she's just about ready to pass out when the couple smiles brightly, not having heard her breathless whisper.

"Evening!" the man greets, smiling a perfect row of pearly whites.

"Hi! I'm Trina Decker, this is my husband Tom. We live right across the street." Regina - Trina? - jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the much larger and more expensive house across the way before giving a brilliant, heart breaking smile. "We thought we'd personally welcome you to the neighborhood!"

Emma blinks rapidly. Her world feels like it's going in slow motion and super speed all at the same time. She's staring into the familiar brown eyes of her wife, her dead wife, and it feels like her heart is going to explode in her chest from the shock and pain and joy all mixed together in a chaotic storm of what the FUCK.

"I'm sorry, are you- are you okay?" the man - Tom - asks with a look of concern. Emma's turned sheet-white in front of them, her green eyes wide with what could probably be construed as terror. She realizes she's not breathing and quickly sucks in a rattled breath.

"S-sorry," Emma stutters, prying her hand off of the edge of the door where she'd been gripping it with a vengeance.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, dear," Regina says with equal concern, and Emma's heart is breaking all over again because it's her wife's speech pattern and her wife's voice, the same voice she's been having imaginary conversations with in her mind for the past three years. It takes every bit of self control she has not to rush across the threshold and throw her arms around the brunette. That, or break down crying.

"Sorry," Emma says again, her voice faint. "You look like someone I used to know."

Regina's brow lifts up in that oh so familiar way and Emma wants to sob out loud. The brunette smiles again and offers up a bottle of champagne like a peace offering. "I hope you like Dom Pérignon," she says, voice gentle as if afraid of scaring Emma off. "Nothing better than alcohol to celebrate a housewarming, right?"

"Thank you," says Emma automatically, grabbing the bottle by the neck and avoiding skin contact like the plague. She's not sure she can survive touching her. Physical proof that Regina is here, alive and - well, alive - just might break her. Half of her wants to believe this is some insane dream or hallucination.

"We're just heading out for a run, but we'll be home in an hour. Would you and your husband like to join us at our place for a drink?"

The question sends Emma into another spiral of confusion and pain. She grabs onto the door with her free hand again, needing it for balance. "I don't- uh, I don't have a husband. I'm- I can't, I'm sorry. My son-"

Her words are a jumble of stutters and broken sentences, and she's still too shell shocked to feel embarrassed about it. Tom gives a sympathetic smile and comes to her aid.

"It's probably been a pretty hectic day for you," he offers kindly. "How about you come over tomorrow evening instead? We're hosting a party, it would be a great way for you to meet the neighborhood."

She wants to say yes and no at the same time. She wants to run away, and she also wants to run towards Regina, but this Regina is apparently Trina and Trina is married to Tom and nothing makes sense so all she manages to say is, "Sure."

"Great!" Tom beams. "We'll see you tomorrow then."

"We never did catch your name," Regina adds, already stretching out a hand. Emma releases the door and automatically reaches for her too, even though her mind is screaming at her to flee.

"Emma. Emma Swan." And then they're shaking hands and a tingling warmth spreads from where they're connected skin-against-skin and Emma thinks she might be having a heart attack, and for a second it looks like Regina just might too.

"Emma," she says somewhat breathlessly, before her features smooth out into a warm and welcoming smile. "Lovely to meet you. We'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

And then the Deckers are gone, and Emma shuts the door to sag against it with a ragged sob.