Regal Cricket!anon prompted:

What about a during the curse one-shot, where Henry is still a baby and Regina has trouble taking care of him? Thinking she's the worst mother ever she visits Archie's office at probably not very appropriate hour, holding the crying baby and desperately seeking an advice.

Summary: Her newly adopted son would not stop crying and Regina is at her wits' end.

Characters: Regina Mills, Henry Mills, Archie Hopper, mentions of Dr. Whale

Pairing: Regal Cricket friendship

Author's note: I'm sorry it took me so long, dear Regal Cricket!anon. It's actually been ready for a long while, but I hesitated posting it because I was nervous about my characterisation of Regina (which I'm sure is not everyone's cup of tea) and also because I couldn't think of a good title. I still haven't thought of a good title, and I'm still nervous as all heck, but oh well. :P Hope you like it!

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Her newly adopted son would not stop crying.

She went to Dr. Whale demanding he make her little boy better, but after a thorough check he told her that it was infantile colic which was not something he could treat. Though uncomfortable for little Henry it was not dangerous, and she would just have to be patient and wait it out.

Regina Mills was many things but patient had never been one of them.

So three days after she first held her baby boy in her arms Regina bundled Henry up in the brand new car seat and drove to the only other person she could think of that might be able to help her. She didn't really think he would be able to, but she was at her wits' end, frazzled and despairing, feeling decidedly in over her head as the little baby boy she had wanted so desperately didn't live up to her expectations. Or rather, to put it more accurately, since the little boy who was now hers was the most perfect little boy she had ever seen, she had failed to live up to her expectations. She had expected crying, of course she had! All babies cried, she knew that. What she had not expected was that she would be unable to soothe it. Regina was floundering, and she needed help.

The lights were out in his office, of course, it being so late, but pulling up outside his house she noted that there were still lights shining there. Not that it really mattered; she would not have hesitated to wake him had every light been out.

Even if he hadn't heard her car pull up outside his house he would have had to be deaf to not hear Henry's unhappy wailing as soon as the car door opened. By the time Regina reached the top porch step the front door had opened and Dr. Archibald Hopper was waiting for them, standing in the doorway with a sympathetic but slightly confused look on his face.

"Madame Mayor," he nodded with a hesitant smile. "Ah, and I-I take it this is –"

"My son, yes," she interrupted and resisted a wince as Henry took a deep breath before reaching new volumes directly in her ear. "Henry. He's – he won't stop crying."

"I assume you've had Dr. Whale –"

"Of course I have!" She stormed past him into his home but to his credit he just closed the door behind her and motioned belatedly towards the living room. "Do think me such a bad mother I wouldn't first take my child to a doctor?"

He visibly swallowed at her crass tone but shook his head, not pointing out the fact that he was a doctor too. "Of course not, Madame Mayor."

Only slightly mollified Regina sat down on the couch with a huff and desperately rocked Henry who was showing no signs of quieting down.

"Colic?"

Regina nodded once, biting back her frustration. Of course it was colic, wasn't that blatantly obvious? And this man called himself a doctor!

"May I offer a suggestion?" He asked as if that wasn't the very reason she had come to his door, as if she hadn't rudely invited herself into his home long after proper visiting hours. At her tight-lipped nod he motioned her to stand. Confused and annoyed, but for now willing to humour him Regina stood. He stepped closer and with infinite gentleness shifted Henry in her arms so he was laying on his stomach, draped over her forearm, tiny arms dangling on each side and little feet half-heartedly kicking as he kept bellowing out his displeasure. Positioning her other arm so Henry was cradled safely he then pulled her carefully out onto the floor.

"Here," he said, voice soft but somehow still heard despite Henry's cries. "Like so." He motioned how to rock her arm in a gentle rhythm and then nodded in confirmation as she repeated the action. "And now walk," he said, holding out a hand to encompass the room. "Stroll around the couch, go by the windows and the bookshelf and come back here. Not too fast, steady rhythm. Keep rocking him."

Her first instinct was to snap at him, to tell him that the whole endeavour was ridiculous, that obviously just strolling wouldn't help at all... but the sound of her new son's unhappy wails made her push the urge away and instead follow the cricket's instructions.

And to her immense surprise and relief Henry started quietening down after the second lap around Dr. Hopper's living room. Though he didn't fall completely silent she was no longer half-expecting blood to dribble out of her abused ears. As she kept strolling Henry's wails petered out into quiet sobbing and eventually into the occasional sound of displeasure and annoyance.

Henry hadn't been this quiet since he arrived in Storybrooke and Regina could have wept with gratitude.

"The gentle pressure on his stomach will give him some relief," the bug said softly, giving Henry's back a gentle, encouraging pat as Regina strolled past. "But he'll probably be screaming again as soon as you put him down."

She wondered how he knew. How could a cricket possibly know of such things? It was probably the curse given medical degree, she told herself. But then again Dr. Whale had not suggested this. Glancing at the now human cricket out of the corner of her eye as she kept circumventing the room she found herself intrigued despite herself. She didn't know all that much about him, really, just that he was Snow and Charming's most trusted advisor and thus her enemy by default. The mere thought of Snow White and her husband made familiar fury flare up in her, but it was quickly replaced by smugness as she reminded herself of the current state of her enemies – one a mere shadow of her former self, the other one in a coma; True Love doomed to be forever apart. Regina smirked and the cricket's returning smile was a little unsure.

'Oh, you wouldn't be smiling if you remembered, bug,' she thought to herself, but her smugness faded away as she became aware of the now quietly fussing baby boy in her arms and the fact that she owed the respit to the former insect on the other side of the room.

According to the information her spies had gathered for her back in the Enchanted Forest the cricket was what this world's inhabitants might call a "goody two-shoes"; known for his willingness to help anyone who needed it. She knew he had travelled much and helped many before accepting the position of Snow and Charming's chief advisor; he was open minded and kind, wise and benevolent, and though small of stature his reputation proceeded him throughout the lands as a still small voice that guided the lost. Maybe that was why she had sought him out.

He had helped her now, without second thought.

If their positions had been reversed she would not have done the same.

For a moment she floundered, unfamiliar feelings confusing her; shame, gratefulness and something in between, unpleasant and painful before the familiar and safe feeling of indignant righteousness settled again. Of course he helped her without second thought, it was only right! She was his quee – mayor! He was supposed to do what she commanded!

She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind, sounding very much like the man in front of her, that pointed out that he might actually have done it out of the kindness of his heart and not some sense of duty or obligation. He might have done it for little Henry who had been crying so pitifully. He might have done it out of sympathy for the frazzled new mother.

"How do you know this?" She asked instead, voice clipped. "What does a –" cricket "- bachelor know of babies?"

He opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, and Regina saw as if a veil lowered itself over his eyes, momentarily giving them a strange faraway look. She didn't see that often anymore; the visual sign of the curse adjusting the fake memories of her subjects. It had happened often in the beginning, the curse tightening its grip with every adjustment, but after so many years she didn't see it nearly as often anymore. For some reason it didn't make her feel as smug as it usually did. The veil lifted and he continued, completely unaware of the slight delay.

"I- I must have learned it in medical school." He chuckled and rubbed his neck with a bashful smile. "To be honest I don't remember." He chuckled again before awkwardly clearing his throat. "Anyways, um, i-if you need a babysitter please don't hesitate to ask."

"Are you insinuating something, Dr. Hopper? That I can't take care of him on my own?"

Her tone was so cold and defensive that he actually twitched, as if he had to fight the urge to physically back away from her. Visibly swallowing he raised his hands as if to physically ward off her anger.

"If I am insinuating anything it's that I'd be willing to take care of him for a few hours every now and then if you need rest." He sounded so damn disappointed, and Regina's anger didn't quite manage to drown out the feeling of shame at having snapped at what was clearly meant as a friendly offer. "Having a child with colic is a strain," he continued, unaware of the danger he was in as her emotions roared in her tired mind. "And doubly so for a single parent since there's no one to switch shifts with, so to speak. There's no shame in accepting help, Regina."

"I don't need help, Dr. Hopper!" She felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks at the absurdity of her claim and her embarrassment only fuelled her anger. "We're done here."

He didn't try to stop her when she stormed out as dramatically as she had stormed in, and as Regina drove away - Henry already screaming his little lungs out in the backseat - she caught a glimpse of the cricket in the rear-view mirror; standing in the door, framed by the warm light from behind, she could imagine the look on his face. He was concerned for her. Afraid of her, yes, as he should be, but also... also concerned. He had helped her, helped Henry, and had even offered to babysit. He had been... friendly. Kind. She didn't quite know how to handle that, so instead she pushed him from her mind and focused on the road. It was time to get home and start strolling.