Usually she was a heavy sleeper, the kind who pressed the snooze button until she was falling out of bed - dragging a comb through her hair as she tried to dress and eat breakfast simultaneously. For some people, this would be a problem, but for Emma Swan it was just the way she worked.

But not today.

With a spring in her step, she leapt from her bed. It may still have been dark outside, but she had already been awake for hours, anxious to start her day.

The day.

Soon she was fumbling in her small bathroom, squeezing herself between the shower stall and the sink, grabbing her toothbrush while reaching to turn on the shower. The tiny room was barely big enough for the amenities and soon it filled with steam, slicking dampness on the walls that she knew would soon start to drizzle down the faded paint.

But she didn't care, because today was going to be her day.

Happily, she scrubbed her face and lathered up her hair. She sang as she shaved her legs (ignoring the shouts of 'shut up' from the studio next door). She even smiled when her head bumped against the too-low-hung shower head.

Just this once, nothing was going to rain on her parade.

Sliding open the concertina door of the tiny ensuite, she surveyed her half of the subdivided apartment that she had called home for these past four years. Her fold out bed-come-couch was piled up with her forgotten duvet. The coffee table that doubled as a dining area (Asian style was in, right?) was cluttered with coffee cups and the bottle of wine she and Neal had shared the night before. For a moment, she wished he could have stayed. Morning sex was one of the few ways she imagined the morning being improved. But she pushed the thought aside and pounced on the small walk in closet what was one of the studio's few luxuries.

As she surveyed her small selection of business wear, she thought back to when she had first arrived in the city. With little more than a summer job's worth of savings and a one way ticket, she had spent the first few months couch surfing with college friends. Her first real place had been in TriBeCa - rooming with six models in a loft with bad plumbing, made only bearable by the two jobs she had to pull to afford living there, meaning that it was literally just a place to sleep.

It had taken accepting the job working with August W. Booth, accountant extraordinaire, to finally give her enough cash to afford this place, an illegal sublet in West Village. She had celebrated by hitting a local cocktail bar with her best New York girlfriend Ruby. A new job, a new apartment - she was on a high. So when a guy with a smooth tongue and sexy eyes had asked to buy her a drink, for once she had said yes.

He also became the first guy she brought to her new place. A night of drunken sex amidst the packing boxes had turned into a weekend of takeout and no clothes and by Monday they were officially dating.

The small mirror in her 'kitchen' (a two burner stove, a microwave and kettle) gave just the right light to smooth on some foundation and a few layers of mascara. A slick of bare lipstick was enough to make her feel ready to face the world and with an unfamiliar lightness in her step, she skipped out of the door, heading for the subway.

August Booth had a two room set up, hidden away on the side street of a side street, just close enough to Times Square to be considered 'midtown.' As usual, the elevator was out of service, so Emma swung open the door to the staircase, automatically wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of what she hoped wasn't urine. She counted the 47 steps to the fourth floor and punched in the security code, using her back to pry open the heavy, metal door that guarded their floor.

Theirs, because she was his only employee. Ever since she had answered his ad in a free paper, Emma had been his only employee; he had promised the company was a start-up but headed for good things. Soon, he would move premises, hire more staff - and then, then, he would need an office manager. The carrot dangled before her promised responsibility and success. This job would be the key to her making it in New York City.

Yet time had stalled, and as she turned the key of the darkened office space, it was only her sparse desk that met her, alongside a faded couch that August had picked up off the street.

But not for much longer.

Today was the day that August would sign the contract that she had been chasing for months - an exclusive deal that would provide services for one of Manhattan's largest limo companies. That meant more work, more staff, new offices and most importantly - a promotion.

She busied herself, booting up her laptop, turning on the coffee maker and watering the few plants that were her attempt at injecting color into the dull, beige space.

Emails were checked and this week's billing had begun before she realized it was almost 9:30. Staring at the wall clock - whose minute hand shook when it struck twelve - she frowned. August was never this late - well, at least not without calling. She picked up her phone and dialed his cell, only to tut when it went straight to voicemail. Briefly she thought that maybe he, too, had celebrated a little too much last night so she called his apartment line. But it just rang and rang until she dropped the phone in frustration.

By now her stomach was growling, so in annoyance she grabbed her coat and stepped out of the office, locking it behind her as she made her way to the local deli.

One bagel with cream cheese and a skinny latte later, she was checking the time again. 10:05.

Seriously? She sighed, pulling out a ten and heading back to the office. Their meeting with Canin Bros. was scheduled for 11:30 and they still needed to finalize the paperwork and iron out the last few details. August was a little eccentric occasionally and he had a pretty intense obsession with Star Wars, but she never thought him as the irresponsible type. Walking slowly, she began to make a mental checklist of his usually haunts, praying this was all some big misunderstanding and he was intentionally AWOL on the biggest day the company had ever had.

Stepping out again onto the fourth floor, she instantly sensed something was different. Instead of the droll sound of Sandy, their penny stockbroker neighbor on a call, she heard a multitude of voices. Coming from their office.

Heart pounding, she strode along the faded corridor's carpet, tightening her purse under her arm and finding the pepper spray that she always kept in her pocket. Readying herself, preparing for anything-

Except this.

Three uniformed NYPD officers rifling through her filing cabinet and one trench coat clad (presumably) detective sat at her desk, looking through her laptop.

"What the hell-"

Slick as shit, the 'detective' flashed her a smile, and his badge, quickly standing and holding out his hand. "Emma Swan, I presume? I'm Detective Humbert. I have a warrant to search these premises-"

Quickly, Emma snatched the sheath of papers he slid across the desk. Her eyes danced over the words, sharp black against crisp white.

Investigation… criminal… fraud.

"What is this?" she demanded.

"A warrant," he replied with a too bright smile. Emma narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. Smart ass, she thought. "Where is Mr. Booth?" he continued.

Licking her lips, she shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Humbert rounded the desk and she stiffened, shirking away a little as she eyed the uniforms going through her paperwork. "I hope they're going to tidy up after themselves."

He smiled, a sickening smile, because she had to admit he was pretty damn attractive, "I wouldn't worry about that." The step he took closer to her made the breath catch in the throat as his hands went to his hips-

"What-" she began.

"Emma Swan, I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit fraud-"

"What-" she repeated, before emitting a yelp as one of the uniforms began to snap a pair of handcuffs on her.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning."

The bagel she had just eaten turned to lead in her stomach as she dropped from her euphoric high to a new all-time low. She didn't know how, she didn't know why but-

August had just fucked her over.

***
"Thank you," Emma whispered, her throat dry and her head aching. Five hours in lock up had given her sore feet and a burning fear of the justice system. Locked in a cell with five other women (three of who she was sure where high on something) had left her clawing at the walls. The first fresh breath of air she took as she stepped outside the precinct was the sweetest she had tasted in a long time.

"No problem," Ruby smiled, pulling her into a hug as Emma began to compose herself.

Her one phone call had turned into three. She'd called Neal's cell first, tears streaming from her eyes as the seriousness of her situation had hit. Two hours waiting, followed by 90 minutes of grilling from Detective Humbert, had left her knees shaking. When Neal hadn't answered she had tried his office; Ariel, his secretary told her he was 'in a meeting' and promised he would call back before slamming the phone down. She'd never liked that girl.

After pleading with the on-call sergeant, she had finally managed to reach Ruby. Groggy with sleep after another late shift at the bar, Ruby had quickly sharpened up as Emma brought her up to speed with her predicament. Forty-five minutes later she was there with a credit card and a few sharp words for the officer on the front desk

"I didn't do anything," Emma promised, squeezing her friend tight before letting go and giving her a faint smile.

"I know Emma. I told you that August was a little shady-"

Emma silenced her with a glance. Now was not a time for 'I told you so'. Now all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget what had happened- for a few hours at least.

Clearing her throat, Ruby released her best friend's arms. "So, do you wanna come to my place? I have vodka-"

Off course she had vodka. Being a bar manager, one thing Ruby was never short of was liquor.

"No," Emma shook her head, "To be honest, I just want to sleep. I think I'll head to Neal's and wait for him to finish work."

"If you're sure you'll be okay-"

"I promise," Emma insisted. "But if it makes you better I'll head over to The Rabbit Hole tonight and we can talk properly."

With a smile, Ruby nodded, "Okay. But no slipping out on me - you just cost me $1,000."

"Aren't I worth it?" Emma teased, enjoying the chance to lighten the mood a little.

Ruby paused a second, her face serious, before she broke into a grin. "I guess so. Subway?" she asked.

"I think this situation calls for a taxi."

The two hugged before Emma found herself on the curb, flagging down a yellow cab. She sank into the black leather seat, foregoing her seatbelt, too preoccupied with the royal mess her life had become that day. She glanced at her phone. 4:02. Neal usually got out of his job at five, was home by five-thirty. Just enough time to take a bath (her favorite thing about his apartment was the free standing, cast iron bath), maybe order some takeout.

She tipped the cabbie generously. Her key to Neal's apartment was in her hand before she had even reached the door, her feet throbbing, her eyes tired-

The key slid into the lock and the door opened into his small hallway. His one bedroom place was not much bigger than her studio, but so cleverly designed it felt much bigger. She left her coat by the door, smiling at the picture that was hung near the light switch - the two of them last summer in Cape Cod. They had taken a boat to go whale watching but he had been seasick most of the day-

A sudden sound made her pause. Dropping her purse, she retrieved her pepper spray, slipping off her court shoes as she held her breath.

A groan. A bang.

Slowly she stepped further into the apartment, her heart racing, suddenly finding that all the adrenaline in her system had not already been used. Her bare feet slid across the laminated flooring, avoiding the patches she knew creaked, tiptoeing around the loveseat.

The sound was coming from the bedroom.

Slowly exhaling, she thought her heart was going to burst. The pepper spray was in her hand, held aloft as the turned the handle of the door to his room. Gently easing it open, her eyes scanned the scene in front of her.

Ariel. Naked. Straddling her boyfriend. Reverse cowgirl style.

Freezing, her jaw dropped. It took a second for the two to notice her. Ariel squealed as she slid off Neal. Neal clawed at the sheets, trying to cover his naked ass.

"Emma…"

Her lips tried to form words but none came.

Ariel was babbling, pulling on her shirt and some panties as Emma stared, still hoping that this was some kind of awful dream. Maybe the whole day was.

"Emma?" Neal asked, his tone pleading, "You're getting the wrong idea here-"

And that made her snap.

"The wrong idea Neal? The wrong fucking idea?"

The venom in her tone had him leaning back against the pillows (the ones she had bought him last Christmas - duck feather, $50 a pop).

"Baby-"

The sheet was around his waist and his legs were swinging onto the floor before she could remove herself from the situation. She ran towards the kitchen, her stomach retching at the image of their naked, sweaty bodies. Leaning over the sink as she tried to catch her breath.

"Babe-"

She snapped around at the sound of his voice, his arm outstretched.

"Don't you fucking babe me. You were - she was-"

A wave of nausea rose again, the bitter bile hitting the back of her throat as she pressed her eyes closed.

"It's not what you think -" he replied limply.

"Oh really?" she spat, tears burning again, "So you weren't just fucking your secretary? Your secretary Neal? That's so fucking cliche!"

She really, really wanted to throw something. So she grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a dishcloth, and aimed it squarely for his face. He flinched, dipping just enough so she could see her slipping out of the apartment door.

"She gave me no choice."

Emma snorted in disgust. The bitter taste in her mouth was becoming overpowering. She reached into the dishwasher for a glass, filling it with cold water, but not replying.

"You don't understand. She would not leave me alone. Following me, leaving little notes-"

Nodding, Emma clenched the glass until her knuckles blanched, sinking back a few refreshing gulps as he continued.

"I thought if I slept with her, maybe she would get over me-"

And that was when she started to laugh. A deep, rumbling belly laugh that had her whole body shaking until she had to put down the glass of water before she dropped it. Rubbing her eyes with her palms, she laughed until her stomach ached. When she looked at him again, he was wringing his hands, the white sheet now tied in a knot at his waist.

"If you think I'm stupid enough to believe that sort of crap, you clearly don't know me as well as I thought you did."

"Emma," he began, reaching out for her again.

"Don't 'Emma' me." Chuckling a little, she bit her lip and shook her head wryly. Neal cut a rather pathetic figure, half naked with a look of shame on his face, his burgeoning paunch resting on the cotton of his makeshift skirt.

"It meant nothing."

"And that makes it okay?"

She stared at him for a moment - half-willing him to say something. Pathetically half-hoping that it was all a mistake…

Damn, she wanted to tell him about August - wanted to show him that his shitty actions were even more shiftily timed. But somehow that would mean he had won, that a day where both her work and her love life hit the crapper made him all the more powerful. It sounded stupid as she thought it, but the idea wouldn't budge.

So instead she straightened her shoulders and strode past him. Picking up her shoes and purse, she undid the door latch before turning to face him. She whispered, "Don't call me," then slammed the door shut, just as fresh tears began to fall.

***
When she finally trudged home and saw an anonymous looking brown envelope taped to her door, she debated whether or not to open it.

Perhaps it's a death threat? Or a bribery attempt? Really, could anything make today worse?

The cocoa she prepared is just enough to clear the fog in her mind so she could slide her finger under the flap and pull out the official looking letter inside.

The words meld into one.

Violation… illegal…court action… seven days.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Even though she'd known that one day the building inspector would likely find the not-so-legal subdivisions in her building, after four years she'd thought that maybe she'd got lucky.

The news was more than enough reason, to have her quickly replace her pantsuit and shirt with jeans and a sweater and almost run the ten blocks to The Rabbit Hole.

Since it was a Thursday night, Ruby was on the bar. She waved when she saw her friend, pointing to a free bar stool. The place was busy enough, a few booths of college kids, some business types still in their suits, some couples - the usual for the time of year. By the time she reached her stool, a straight up bourbon is waiting. Ruby's generous measures making her strangely glad that she had no work tomorrow.

(Did she even have a job?)

One gulp and half the drink was gone before Ruby was leaning over the bar, resting her chin on her palm, a look of concern crossing her sharply beautiful features. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Emma caught her eye and sucked in a deep breath. "Neal's cheating on me and I'm being evicted."

Ruby's expression changed from playful to shocked. Emma took another sip as she pulled out the crumpled eviction letter from her jeans pocket. Her friend automatically refilled the glass as she read the note.

"Oh Emma…"

The pity in her tone made Emma squirm. "It's not unexpected Ruby, I actually can't believe it hasn't happened sooner."

Ruby nodded sympathetically, hugging the bottle of liquor to her chest. "And, Neal?" she asked tentatively.

"I found him naked in bed with his secretary."

"The redhead?"

Emma nodded. The bourbon was now burning her stomach, reminding her of how little she had eaten that day. Reminding her of why she hadn't eaten

"Fuck. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Emma sighed. Clawing back her hair from her face, she finally tried to let herself relax a little. Ruby was a straight talker and that's what Emma liked about her. She never tried to suffocate her friends with kindness, instead her specialty was a glass of liquor and a friendly ear.

Only now did Emma realize how tense she had been all day. Her body had been strung tight like a bow ever since she had stepped back into the office to find that the NYPD had let themselves in. "I guess, they say bad things come in threes."

"They do," Ruby agreed, wiping a nonexistent stain from the bar before a tall, balding guy raised his hand for service. "I'll just be a minute."

Watching her friend move down the bar, Emma cradled the glass between her hands and hung the heels of her boots on the metal bar at the bottom of the stool. The low, dull, beat of the casual music throbbed in her head as the alcohol took effect. A brief moment of lucidity descended. The pain in her head lifted, the tang of alcohol tart on her tongue.

How had the day took such a drastic turn?

If she was honest, she was still numb. It was all so surreal.

Perhaps she was still dreaming. She briefly let herself imagine that this was some cruel joke that her mind had paid her. That she would wake in her bed and the painful events of the day would be a mere faint memory.

She wasn't out on bail. She wasn't unemployed. Her boyfriend wasn't cheating. She wasn't being evicted…

Surely, it was more than a woman could take.

"Any news on August?"

"Hmm?" Emma hummed, broken from her thoughts. She licked her lips and shrugged. "The detective called me on my way here, said they were close to tracking him down."

"That's good news," Ruby replied, trying to sound bright. "He can clear your name."

Emma fidgeted in her seat.

"Maybe. But I'll still be unemployed - and homeless."

"You know you can crash on my couch for as long as you need to."

"Thanks," she whispered in reply.

The college kids were shouting for more shots, so after a quick pour of Johnnie Walker, Ruby grabbed a bottle of tequila and headed over to them.

It's times like these, she realized, when everything was suddenly clear.

What the hell had she done with her life for the past six years? Six hard, long years in Manhattan and what had she achieved? A criminal employer, a shitty apartment, an unfaithful boyfriend…

Was this it? The sum total of her life achievements so far?

She drowned the thought in another drink.

Tomorrow. She would worry about all this tomorrow.