When Regina imagined meeting Kiki again, it was nothing like this.
In her fantasies, when Kiki opened the door, she was cool as a cucumber and wearing a smile of seductive promise, her hair perfect as she slunk past the threshold of the house she once called home. After that, the details would vary, but it always ended up with Kiki swooning into her arms as she kissed and made love to her with utter abandon.
Within the playground of her mind, her stomach was not twisted up in a thousand Gordian knots, and her heart was not beating so hard or so fast that it throbbed even in her throat. When she took off on her flights of fancy, this white girl (Abby—Kiki’s “friend,” or so she said) was definitely nowhere to be seen, and she certainly didn’t hound her every step toward where Kiki lived.
In the part of her brain that had not been taken over by the thought, “It’s not supposed to happen like this,” there had been a grudging respect for the girl. Despite her doe eyes and delicate build, gringa had backbone and nerves of steel. If Abby had been afraid, she certainly didn’t let it show, and she respected anyone who didn’t turn into a sobbing, quivering mass of goo in the face of the least bit of danger.
Only sheer chutzpah (one of the more interesting terms she learned in Storybrooke) would make anyone chastise the Evil Queen as though she were a little girl who had done something naughty. That was surprising enough, but what shocked her more (later, much later, in the privacy of her own thoughts where she could begrudgingly admit it) was how she actually tried to explain herself to this woman who supposedly didn’t mean a damn thing to her at all. She tried to tell Abby that it was for Kiki’s own good, that being with her would put Kiki in danger, but Abby was having none of it.
"Yes, because actually telling her this would be awkward, right?"
"I told her in the letter."
Gods, that had sounded weak. Even Snow White had never made such a flimsy excuse.
Something about Abby felt hauntingly familiar, something that reminded her of a chainsaw grinding through a branch of her beloved apple tree. Gods, would she ever escape Emma fucking Swan?
Were they going to fight over Kiki instead of Henry? If so, things might not turn out the way they did on the show. Brooklyn was not Storybrooke, There was no script deciding that good must win, and if Abby planned on coming between her and Kiki, she was going to have a long, ugly fight on her hands, and she would lose far more than she’d ever hope to win. Unlike with Emma, she wouldn’t just going to try to run her out of town. She would destroy her utterly, body and soul. She would start by ripping her heart out, and then—
"I know this is gonna make me sound like a monster, but…deep down, I feel like it would’ve been better for Kiki if you were dead. I think if she knew there was no way you could ever come back, she could learn to be happy again without you. I’ll never tell her this. But if you prove me wrong, I have a feeling we’ll both be surprised."
Abby was right about that.