A/N: Hi guys, it's been awhile!
This is my first published SwanQueen expedition, hopefully there are many more to come this summer, I have about three other ideas swimming around my brain with little time to write them, but this one kept jumping out at me.
The Marshal is based off of a fake movie poster created by absedarian on tumblr - the synopsis is from her poster as well. I've taken many a liberty coming up with this plot, so we'll see how it goes! Thanks for reading, critique and reviews are always welcome :)
30 minutes.
Pushing papers around the sparse desk, devoid of the personal mementos that littered those of her colleagues, Emma Swan stared down the slender hands of her watch as they ticked away the seconds. When her hazel eyes glanced up, white walls bored insanity into her skull. She needed to get out of her office. To her credit, a couple magnets stuck to the filing cabinet by the door splashed some color into her vision. But the bookcase opposite had the same peeling varnish as her sub-standard desk, the books faded until most of the colors were shades of brown and grey. In half an hour, barring unfortunate circumstances that had kept her from Florida for the past three months, she would be heading towards a plane bound for sunshine. Not that Arlington didn't have sun, but the vitamin D in Florida tasted different on her skin. Her vacation request had been approved, again. For the third time in a row. A new assignment had come up at the last minute, as soon as she cleared off her desk, each and every time. She could feel exhaustion wrapping around her bones every time she moved.
25 minutes.
"You look ready to jump someone, Swan."
She glowered up at her partner, fellow US Marshal Neal Cassidy, who stood in her doorframe; there was a box of pork fried rice in one hand and a plastic spork in the other. She regarded his shaggy hair cut and for a fleeting moment understood why his intern had been drooling earlier. "Don't jinx it, Neal. I need outta here."
"After how trigger happy you were on the 703 last week, I hope you get it. For my safety and the good of the public at large." He dropped into the plain chair on the other side of the desk reserved for wanted visitors, and some not so wanted. Her office wasn't much more than a closet at the end of the room, but it had a door and that was more than Neal and his cubicle could claim.
"Hilarious."
20 minutes.
"When does your plane leave?" He asked around a mouthful of soy sauce.
"Six fifteen, bag is in the Jeep." She grabbed the over-shuffled papers and filed them away in one of her desk drawers, ignoring the urge to ask him to eat a little less like a seven year old. Actually, that was giving him too much credit. A seven year old had better table manners. Her fingers grazed over the badge that currently adorned the mostly flat desktop, its supple leather highlighting the cracked and chipped finish. "If I have to put this back on my belt again, I'm going to be sick."
"Then grab your trashcan, Swan."
"Sarge?" They both turned to look back at the doorframe, where their commanding officer leaned, manila file in hand. He was ex-military, Emma didn't actually know his rank, but she'd called him Sarge for as long as she'd been with the Marshals.
"Relocation."
"Whaaat?" it was the most childish and drawn out response she could muster.
"Yup."
"You've gotta be kidding me, Sir." She snapped a little brusquely, "No disrespect, but this is bullshit. Isn't there someone else?"
"Everyone else is on assignment."
"Meyers has been sitting at his desk for a week doing nothing," she argued hotly.
"With me, Swan." He turned, expecting her to follow, after a nod at Neal. "File is on your desk, Cassidy."
She followed him like a leashed dog to the spacious office at the other end of the building. An office she aspired to. "I've been waiting for this for months. You know that sir. You heard Neal, trigger happy! I'm a liability."
"Are you asking to be fired, Swan?"
Emma cursed her word choice. "No sir. I'm asking for the vacation I've been approved for three times now."
"I'm sorry."
She was whining now, but she was too tired to care, pride be damned. "I'm overdue. Isn't there –"
"Meyers got orders about an hour ago. I truly am sorry, Em." He looked at her with gentle eyes, like she expected a father might if she knew what having one of those was like. She slumped into one of his office chairs. "I like you, Swan. I didn't think I would. I didn't think you had what it takes."
Her jaw would've dropped if this conversation hadn't been on repeat for two years every time he wanted something from her. She settled for an eye roll.
"Look, you're the best. This is a high profile WP or I would just let Neal do it by himself. But you're the senior officer."
"What is it this time?" She gave in with a sigh.
"The client has gotten entangled with a drug scheme. She not only represented a victim and won, but was also a witness to at least one murder. She's a liability to the corporation; several attempts on her life have already been made." He sounded grim, and as he continued her heart sank further. This was going to be a rough one. "I swear you'll get the month off when you get back. It shouldn't take long."
"Can I get that in writing, Sir? Notarized? Because that's the third time I've heard that," she took the proffered file and sauntered from his office.
A few lingering deputies threw her sympathetic frowns as she passed on her retreat. The fact that she didn't have a family practically guaranteed her every last minute case that landed on Sarge's desk. It was far easier to cancel plans for one than for a family of four. Despite that, she hadn't wanted a family, not in many years. She'd thrown herself into her work, ascending ranks faster than people thought she could and getting higher up than her sparse friends dreamed was possible. But everyone knew how it felt to be overworked, even if their definition of the term was looser than it was for her. Neal called out, "Another New York lawyer, ADA this time. Looks like the Jeep will be sitting a little longer. Where were you going again anyways?"
"Doesn't matter, Cassidy." She never told them where she went. It was her spot. She was untouchable there, completely invisible. But it would have to wait, another month, maybe longer.
Refraining from slamming her door, she threw the file haphazardly onto her desk before throwing herself into the swiveling chair. Momentum had her spinning for a couple minutes. The dingy Marshal badge mocked her from its position. With a growl she jammed it back onto the well-worn patch of belt at her right hip and flipped open the manila folder.
Case: 0071834
Office: Witness Protection Services
Priority: Alpha 7
Senior Officer: Swan, Emma
Assisting Officer: Cassidy, Neal B.
Corresponding Officer: Booth, August
Client Detail:
relocation site: Pagosa Springs, Colorado, USA
alias: Wilma Miller
D.O.B: 7-18-1977 36 yrs SSN: 714-82-1417
Mills, Regina A.D.A.
New York City, New York, USA
D.O.B: 5-27-1978 35 yrs SSN:714-274-3120
Her eyes kept scanning but she didn't read anything past her newest client's name. Regina Mills. It couldn't be her. After every step Emma had taken to eradicate that woman from her memory, she couldn't just show up again in her life. Not like this. Her top lip sucked between her teeth in a most unflattering expression, Emma flipped the page. The whimper tangled in her vocal chords slid free. Staring back at her were eyes she'd hoped to never see again. She quickly flipped again, but the rest of the file was relatively empty. No further details on what sort of trouble her client was in. Or who she was in trouble with.
"What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" she whispered, flipping back to the head shot. Her fingertips absently traced the flip of the pictured woman's hair. It was shorter now, severe, regal. Regina.
Caught up in decade old memories, she didn't hear Neal open the door. After a few seconds of watching his partner, concern swirled in his voice, "Emma?"
She jumped, her hand reflexively darting for a left side drawer. As her eyes met his, she dragged herself out of an old town in the middle of a forest in Maine and back to the present. With a groan she realized she was as trigger happy as Neal thought, and let her hand continue its course to the drawer to retrieve her guns. Nodding at him, she stood, snatching her trademark jacket from the back of her chair. With a grin she asked, "Ready to go?"
"Chopper's on the way," he said as he fell into step beside her, regarding her curiously.