Summary: Mary Margaret's case comes to trial. The verdict is not what Emma and Gold want to hear. As they drown their sorrows, however, they learn that justice always prevails, although not necessarily in the way they expect. Emma & Gold friendship, eventual Rumbelle.
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own OUAT. I just own an unhealthy number of ideas.
Note: This takes place after S1Ep16 'Heart of Darkness', going AU from there, and therefore conveniently ignores the fact that Gold was complicit in (or at least knew about) Kathryn's kidnap.
Strong language throughout.
On The Nature of Lady Justice
"Let there be justice though the world perish" – Emperor Ferdinand I
Part One
"We find the defendant guilty."
Emma plays the words on a loop in her head as she stares at the now-empty jury box. She is the only person in the courtroom, for which she is thankful since she's crying her eyes out. She managed to stay strong for her friend as they took her back down to cells to wait for the van to take her to county; she managed to stay strong whilst she saw Regina's wolfish, triumphant smile as the sentence was handed down. But now, she's alone, and she has to crumple into her woe before it consumes her totally. It's all over, and they have failed – Emma, Mary Margaret, Mr Gold. They have lost, and Regina has won.
Emma draws her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them. She has absolutely no desire to go home to the empty flat, knowing that it won't ever be fully occupied again. A small part of her knows that she'll have to speak to someone about the lease.
"Miss Swan?"
Emma closes her eyes, because the voice belongs to the last person in Storybrooke she wants to see. Well, apart from the mayor, of course. She doesn't turn when she hears Gold's uneven step coming down the room towards her. She's suddenly angry; how can he be so calm after everything?
"What are you doing here?" she snaps.
"Sheriff, the courthouse is closing. Miss Blanchard has gone. If you stay in here any longer you'll be locked in overnight. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was worried about you."
"Well, you can fuck off and worry some place else!" Emma snarls, whipping round to face him at last. She's a little taken aback by his appearance – she's no idea how old Gold is but he seems to have visibly aged since lunch time, and he looks as defeated as she feels – but she's too angry to care. "This is all your fault, you bastard! You were supposed to stop this! You were supposed to defend her! She trusted you and you failed her! I trusted you! I thought you could win against Regina!"
"So did I."
"You've done it before, couldn't you do it again?"
"I did my best, Miss Swan."
"Well it wasn't fucking good enough!" Emma screams. "I was prepared for you to do anything to get this sorted out, to overlook anything you might do to bring Regina to justice and you did nothing! You let her win!"
Gold says nothing in reply, instead he sits down beside her on the bench with a sigh.
"I refute that I 'let' her win," he says eventually. "But it doesn't matter, the end-result is the same. She won, we lost."
"You could've bought off the jury!"
"Emma…"
"They're more scared of you than of Regina! I'm living proof of that!"
"Emma…"
"Why didn't you…"
"Emma!"
Emma tails off, completely lost for words. She can count the number of times she's heard Gold call her by her first name on one hand.
"Yes, I'll admit, this is a battle I had expected to win by other methods that spectacularly backfired in my face. But at the end of the day I can't work magic." He sighs and hands Emma his pocket square to wipe her nose on. "I'm running out of handkerchiefs. Miss Blanchard's had four this week."
He stands and looks down at Emma pointedly.
"You need a drink," he says simply. "We both do."
Emma looks at him, hoping that despite her red nose and eyes she can express her incredulity, but then she mentally shrugs. Since Regina seems determined to make her existence a living hell, she may as well drink with the devil.
She stands and pushes past him in into the aisle.
"Ok. But you're buying."
X
The diner falls silent as they enter. It's rare enough to see Gold in there, but Gold and Emma together in a however temporary truce is unheard of. Emma orders a double vodka, neat. If Gold is buying he can damn well buy, and she intends to get a lot drunker than this. Gold doesn't bat an eyelid and pours his Scotch into a mug of tea.
They drink in silence, or rather, Emma drinks whilst Gold stirs his tea, head planted in one hand, staring into the middle distance intently.
"How much of the trial did you see?" he asks presently, finally fishing the teabag out of the mug and dumping it in the empty tumbler.
"Enough," Emma mutters. "Enough to know you didn't do your bloody job properly."
"Hmm." Gold takes a sip of the brew, still lost in thought.
"Still should have bought the jury," Emma mutters darkly.
"Well, I was arrogant enough to think that I wouldn't need to be so unsubtle."
He's got a point. When your landlord's the defence counsel, it's not exactly conducive to finding his client guilty.
"Huh." The thought of landlords brings her full circle. "I suppose you'll be kicking me out of the apartment then."
Gold laughs, a short, hollow bark with no humour behind it. "I've better things to do. Lodging Miss Blanchard's appeal for one."
"You'll still work for her?" Emma has to order another shot to get over the shock.
"I like to keep an eye on my investments," Gold says cryptically. Emma doesn't like his inference. He's taken Mary Margaret's case pro bono, but God only knows what he'll want in return. She shakes her head.
"What grounds do we have for appeal?" she asks sadly.
"Oh, believe me, I'll think of something."
Emma is getting the distinct impression that Gold knows more than he's letting on, and she tells him as such.
"Sheriff, I am merely a believer in fate. I'm just waiting to see what she throws up this time."
"What do you mean?"
Gold smiles, the leer that turns up one corner of his mouth that Emma has come to mean 'don't mess with what you don't understand, Miss Swan'. She frowns in return.
"You should pay more attention to your son, Sheriff."
"Henry?" Emma raises her eyebrows. "You believe Henry's theory?"
"Well, his overarching theory is a bit far-fetched, but his observations are accurate enough." Gold looks at her pointedly. "Can you name anyone who's successfully left town since you arrived?"
Emma can't. Gold smirks again and drains his laced tea.
"Whatever makes you think then, Sheriff, that Miss Blanchard will be the one to break the mould?"
"You're basing your entire plan off the theory of a ten-year-old," Emma says bluntly. She loves Henry, honest to goodness, but he's just a kid…
The worn look has returned to Gold's face. "No, I'm just praying that the ten-year-old's theory holds up, for everyone's sake."
They fall silent again. Emma finishes her second glass and thinks about ordering another.
"Ok, so if, for some unfathomable reason, Henry's theory that no-one can leave town is true and Mary Margaret can't leave… Maybe there's a tree across the road or something… We've still got the problem of Kathryn, who is still dead, with no clues as to who killed her."
"Hmm." Gold doesn't look particularly hopeful. "Yes, that is a problem."
Emma sighs. "What does Regina have against Mary Margaret anyway? To the extent where she would frame her for murder?"
Gold's face goes distant and closed for a moment.
"No idea," he says, his voice matter-of-fact. It's the most barefaced lie that Emma's ever heard, but she knows that with Gold, the more you push, the less you get, so she leaves it for the moment and allows them to lapse into silence. Grimly she imagines Mary Margaret's progress away from the town, until she hears the diner door open and, in the same moment, all hell break loose.
As Emma turns, she sees the cause of the uproar.
Kathryn Nolan is standing in the doorway – dishevelled, disorientated and weak at the knees, but undoubtedly alive. Granny's the first to react, fussing over her and seeing if she's all right.
In that moment, Emma can only think of Mary Margaret, and her blood runs cold, sobering her instantly. She's off her barstool in an instant, but she's prevented from moving away by a firm grip on her shoulder.
"You have four shots of vodka inside you, Sheriff," says Gold. "I wouldn't plan on racing after Miss Blanchard if I were you."
As hellish as it is to admit, he's right, and Emma looks around desperately for help before settling on Ruby behind the bar, her deputy for all of a day and a half.
Ruby seems to know exactly what Emma's asking without her having to speak, and although she seems nervous at the prospect of more adventures in law enforcement – understandable given what happened the first time – she nods her acquiescence and takes off her apron.
Emma takes charge and pushes through the people crowding around Kathryn. She reassures the terrified woman that everything's going to be all right, and no matter what happened, she's safe now; they'll take her to the hospital and she'll be fine.
And although Emma is obviously concerned for Kathryn's welfare and wants to know just what has happened over the past two weeks, she is also incredibly concerned for Mary Margaret.
So when, having got Kathryn signed into the hospital, her phone begins to ring and add to the chaos with impeccable timing, she can only expect the worst, especially when she hears the wail of the ambulance sirens start up.
Sure enough, her blood curdles even further when she picks up.
"Sheriff," says a male voice she doesn't recognise, a voice that is only just managing not to rise in panic, "there's been an accident."
In the background, Emma can hear someone screaming for help.
It's Mary Margaret.
X
Emma and Ruby arrive on the scene just after the ambulance does, and what Emma had surmised is confirmed. The prison transport van is on its side in the middle of the road. Mary Margaret is, Emma notes with a prayer of thanks upwards, comparatively unharmed. Her hands are bloody, but it doesn't seem to be her own, Emma can't see a visible source. She's wrapped in a shock blanket, shaking like a leaf. The driver – he must have been the one to call her – also looks to be all right.
The ambulance crew, Emma notes with a jolt, are behind the van. It didn't just jack-knife, it crashed into something – someone.
"She came out of nowhere," the driver says. "I tried to avoid her but I couldn't, and by then I was swerving and the van tipped over."
The blood on Mary Margaret's hands is from where she was performing CPR. She'd been yelling for the driver to come and help her.
Emma ventures round to see what's happening. The person hit is a young woman in hospital scrubs and a coat too big for her. Emma doesn't recognise her face. Where in God's name did she come from?
Then everything seems to happen according to procedure, passing in a blur. Storybrooke is small and its hospital has only one ambulance, so Emma phones for help from the nearest larger hospital.
The roads are impassable due to bad weather, or so she is informed, and help cannot arrive. Emma cannot help but be reminded of Henry's theory.
So they have to make do. Mary Margaret and the van driver are put in neck braces in case of whiplash, and Emma and Ruby take them in the squad car, following the ambulance carrying Jane Doe. It's only on the journey that Emma realises that she hasn't actually told Mary Margaret she's a free woman yet, and the schoolteacher's eyes widen at the news.
The rest of the journey passes in a tense, fraught silence broken only by sirens. Emma will need to get full statements from everyone, but that can wait until they have everyone safely in the hospital. The crash site is cordoned off, and she'll return in the morning when she's not got four drinks in her and it's not pitch black.
She can't help thinking though, that somehow, someway, this all comes back down to Regina.
X
Emma is not at all surprised to find Gold loitering around the ER waiting for them. He'd said something about a 'friendly chat' with the pathology department to find out who doctored the lab results that led everyone to believe that Kathryn was dead, and at the time, Emma had had better things to do than stop him – because in all honesty, she wanted the bastard who'd framed Mary Margaret scared out of his wits as well.
What she is surprised by is his reaction to Jane Doe. He can only have seen her for a few seconds as she was rushed past him on the way to the operating theatre, but the effect is instantaneous.
"Belle! Belle!"
Emma's only seen Gold show any kind of depth of emotion like this, only known him raise his voice, once. When he nearly beat Moe French's head in. Suddenly, the little pieces of the puzzle that is Storybrooke and its complex web of social politics begin to fit into place, but she doesn't have time to deal with that right now, not when the evening that she thought couldn't get any more chaotic has just done so.
The mayor has just walked in, ostensibly to find out what's going on, and Gold is looking at her like he could quite happily murder her with his bare hands. Emma feels much the same.
But although she's drunk four times as much as him, it is Gold, not Emma, who confronts Regina, and where his threats are usually soft and menacing, calculated and dangerous whispers, now he is shouting, impassioned.
As if there's only one thing in his life that matters and he's about to lose it. As if, and Emma can hardly believe it, he's afraid.
"You witch!" he roars, and Emma has to grab him for fear that he'll take a swing at the mayor. "You evil bitch! All this time! All these years! You said she was dead, you said she jumped; for fuck's sake, I saw her bloody grave! And now look what you've done!"
In that moment, in Gold's eyes, it's clear that there are only two people in the room and everyone outside him and Regina either doesn't exist or is completely unimportant in the grander scheme of life.
Regina looks genuinely terrified.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she whispers, but the lie is too little, too late, and too obvious. Gold, calm again now, coming back to himself and realising that there are other people in the room and the entire emergency department has probably heard the exchange, shakes his head, detaches himself from Emma's grip.
"If she dies, Regina," he snarls, pointing ominously through the doors towards the operating theatre. "If she dies, I will flay you alive."
He limps away from them, round the corner into the waiting room. Emma and Regina are left looking at one another, and Emma can see that Regina is in chaos. All her carefully ordered plans, whatever they are, are coming down around her ears.
"I don't know what you have done, Madam Mayor," Emma begins, "but I get the feeling that you might be better off leaving."
"Are you accusing me of something, Sheriff?" Regina asks, grasping at what's left of her power
"Not yet, Madam Mayor."
Emma escorts the mayor to the door and watches her walk away. Whatever just happened, the chain of events that have led to their current situation, Regina is not the cause. She has no control over what is currently happening in the hospital, and Emma can tell that this is unnerving her. Her grip on the town is loosening, however slightly.
Emma knows that she'll be back, and she'll be trying to cover up her misdeeds. The sheriff doesn't intend leaving the hospital until she has the full story.
Kathryn is still sedated, and Mary Margaret and the van driver have told all they know and are still being checked over for injury. So there's only one person of interest left.
Gold is sitting with his head in his hands; Emma can see he's shaking. She tries to stop thinking of him as Gold and see him just as a man whose loved one - because that much is obvious - is at death's door in the operating theatre.
So she steels herself up, grabs a box of Kleenex from the nurse's station, and sits down beside him. She's got all night.
To be continued