Author's Note: This was inspired by the movie Georgia Rule. The plot line is loosely based around that. I don't own that plot line or any of the OUAT characters.
Tan arms crossed angrily as eighteen year old Emma Swan slouched in the passenger seat of her mother's Benz, glaring hatefully at the nauseating amount of green that stared back at her. The girl had been alternating between glaring at the world on the outside of the car and the infuriating woman next to her, Mary Margaret Whale, formerly known as Blanchard and also known as her mother.
If you wanted to get technical.
Emma had been given her late father's last name, thank God, and had laughed hysterically when her darling mother and her husband had presented her with the choice of taking his last name. Whale. Emma Whale? Over her dead, cold body.
The 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign flew by and Emma grimaced, pressing her fingers into her temple and leaning against the door. The blonde could already feel the inevitable migraine that would most likely last for the duration of her time in this godforsaken town with these strangers who didn't know her and who she didn't have the least bit of interest in getting to know. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. Not her mother, not her stupid husband, and definitely not them shipping her to butt-fuck nowhere to live with her lovely old bat of a grandmother. It was all bullshit.
With another heaving sigh, the blonde sunk further into her seat, lifting her feet and placing them flat with her knees bent on the dashboard as she begrudgingly slouched back into her seat.
"This is a sixty-thousand dollar car, Emma. Feet off." Mary Margaret said, the first thing she'd said to her since their argument when leaving their condo back in Manhattan. Emma simply cut her eyes at her and scoffed, leaning over and messing with the radio, knowing she'd only be met with static but needing something to do with her hands. "Emma. Feet. Now."
"You can smoke an entire pack of Newports in it, but my feet on the dashboard are going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back, huh?" The slim blonde said casually, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette butts in her sixty-thousand dollar ashtray as she extended her legs and crossed them at the ankle. "And you call me a drama queen."
The exasperated sigh that left her mother's mouth was nothing new to her. It was the same sigh she'd let out when she found Emma's stash of pot, slightly similar to when she'd crashed her Porsche, and almost identical to the one she'd give every time she caught her daughter sneaking in way past curfew. The blonde rolled her eyes and angled her body towards the window again, reaching over to crack it slightly because she knew that a cigarette almost always followed that sigh. Emma hated cigarettes.
As predicted, Mary Margaret did an eyeroll that left no room for doubt as to where her daughter had picked it up and opened the center console with the hand that wasn't on the wheel to retrieve one of her trusty cancer sticks.
"You know," Mary Margaret started, interrupting herself briefly to light the cigarette with a lighter she had pulled from her top. "I wanted to drive so that we could spend some time together, sweetheart."
"Yeah, and I wanted to fly so that we could get you dumping me in Maine of all places over with, preferably with minimal small talk. Can't always get what you want, I guess." Emma snarked, giving the woman a sarcastic smile for good measure because sometimes her mother's bullshit pissed her off. She did things like shipping her states away for months, cutting off her phone service for said months, and then wanted to engage in 'girl talk' on their road trip to hell.
"For god's sake, Emma, could you please lose the attitude for two seconds?"
"I don't know, mom, could you leave me the hell alone for five?" And there was the sigh again.
Thankfully, her mother pulled up to the curb in front of their apparent destination and cut the engine, her retort forgotten as she unbuckled and got out of the car and headed for the trunk causing Emma to sigh. She couldn't wait to get rid of her.
Looking out at the traditional two-story house, Emma sighed. Despite vaguely remembering this house from a visit years ago, she didn't want to be here. It was similar to the feeling she'd get as a little kid, shortly after her mom would drop her off at kindergarten. A mixture of dread pooling in the bottom of her stomach and the need to cry. But Emma wasn't one to cry and hadn't been for a while so with a silent 'fuck you' to the woman currently pulling her luggage from the trunk and everything and everyone else who had played a hand in this, she got out of the car.
Coincidentally, her stepping out of the car was matched by her grandmother, Ingrid, stepping out onto the front porch and moving a rock from its resting place with her foot to keep the screen door propped out. The smile on her face was tentative as she made her way toward them. The older woman was dressed simply in worn jeans and a button up, a far cry from what Emma had envisioned but not in a terrible way. Looking at the older woman, Emma could definitely see where she'd gotten her looks from. Ingrid Blanchard was a tall, slim woman, not lacking classically attractive cures at all, with cool blue eyes that Emma's sometimes mimicked and a wide smile. Her features were strong, yet delicate and anyone who looked at her knew she most likely was quite beautiful back in her younger years. Hell, she was still quite the looker. Blonde hair similar to Emma's own hit mid-back on the older woman and was just as thick as the young teen's. Genes were a funny thing, Emma thought as Mary Margaret hauled another of her bags onto the curb and paused for a moment as she spotted her mother. Mary Margaret appeared to be the complete opposite of her mother, anyone who knew the two knowing that this was true both in looks and in personality. The younger of the two having fair skin, dark eyes, and long dark hair that only resembled her mother's in regards to its thickness. Height was also something the two didn't have in common, Ingrid's daughter not having thrived in the height department as she herself did. Mary Margaret was also built a little more solidly by nature, but of course she had lost a bit of that due to her habit of occasionally considering alcohol a suitable meal when she went through her phases. Let her tell it though and she hadn't had a drink or a cigarette in ages.
"Hello, hello." Ingrid breathed as she approached her daughter, both of them hesitantly staring at each other with awkward smiles that made even Emma cringe before the older blonde woman settled for lovingly patting her daughter on the arm since it was obviously clear that neither was going to lean in for a hug. "And you. Look how big you've gotten, darling."
The sullen teenager didn't bother to hide her eye roll as her grandmother turned her affections in her direction, immediately crossing her arms and heading towards the front door of the house and effectively avoiding the woman who'd started in her direction before she'd taken off.
"Don't mind her. She's like this all the time. Teenage angst and all the other things that go on in that dramatic little head of hers." She heard Mary Margaret sigh and in response she flipped her the bird over her shoulder, missing the surprised hand Ingrid placed over her heart and the eye roll from her mother.
Stepping into the foyer she let her eyes roam as she walked in further and was met by a single step that brought her up onto a landing that presented her with a set of stairs and a hallway that lead to what looked to be the kitchen directly in front of her and the living room to her left. There were little knick knacks and pictures of people she assumed were family, given that her mother and her were pretty estranged when it came to keeping in touch, everywhere. Walking into the living room curiously, a picture on the mantle stuck out the most to her and she walked over and picked it up, a rare soft smile making its way onto her face as she took it in. It was her. Well, the smaller less competent version of her. And Ingrid. The happy little blonde girl in the photo was perched on her grandmother's lap, smiling incredibly hard at the camera revealing several missing teeth and deep dimples that the blonde still sported. Ingrid had her arms wrapped around her lovingly and was looking into the camera with equal happiness and an identical smile. It was the summer that her grandfather, Leo, had died and her and her mother had come back for the funeral and ended up staying the entire summer halfway to keep Ingrid company and halfway because Mary Margaret had simply needed her mother just as much. Emma, not really caring either way, had loved it. Ingrid adored the little girl and they'd often spend a lot of time in her garden or sitting on the porch together reading or talking or picking each other's brains. Her grandmother was her best friend that summer. Her mother's drinking had also started that summer.
"You were seven there." Ingrid informed her casually from the landing at the entrance of the living room, startling her enough for her to clutch at her heart and jump. Placing the frame back on the mantle she whipped around and fixed her grandmother with a slight glare.
"Geez. You scared the shit out of me. Make a habit of lurking around in the shadows like you're goddamn Michael Myers, grandma?" The blonde complained, running a hand through her hair to remove it from her face and moving forward to take both of her bags from the woman's hands as her mother came through the front door with the rest.
"We don't swear in this house." Was all Ingrid said casually, letting go of the bags and leaning back against the wall as she nodded towards the stairs. "Second door on the right."
Emma rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time since she woke up that morning and struggled up the stairs to the room that Ingrid had indicated, hearing the murmurs of conversation between her grandmother and her mother downstairs. Swinging the door to the bedroom of open, the young blonde tossed her bags next to the door and sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around the room. It was a decent size, holding two deep chestnut colored dresses and a nightstand which stood next to a queen sized bed that was help by the same colored frame. The walls were painted a light blue blue and she vaguely remembered suggesting the color to her grandmother as a child and, insert gag here, was kind of touched that the woman had kept the color of the guest room the same. The duvet and the pillowcases were mostly white with beautiful little blue flowers that seemed to be rising upwards. There were little knick knacks in here too, just like the rest of the house and Emma moved to examine one of the little glass birds that rested on the dresser before placing it back down when she heard someone coming down the hall. Turning to face whoever it was, blue-green eyes landed on the sight of her mother carrying in the rest of her bags and dumping the in about the same fashion as Emma did, right next to the others.
"Alright, so, I'm gonna get back on the road. I'm gonna go meet up with a few friends in Boston and stay there tonight." She prattled on as if Emma cared, the blonde simply leaning back on the dresser and staring disinterestedly at her mother as the woman pulled out her phone and scrolled and typed away as she spoke. "You'll be fine here. I'll call your grandmother's house phone later to check on you, alright?"
"You really can't wait to dump me, can you?" The blonde scoffed, a sarcastically amused smirk on her face as she moved over to the bed and plopped down on the edge.
"Emma, honey.. you know I love you. You know we love you, both me and Victor, but.. this'll be good for you. Get you out of the city for a while and away from all of that.. mess, you know?"
"No, mother, I don't know. What I do know is that you couldn't wait to get rid of me. I was fucking up your perfect little marriage with Victor and we can't have that, now can we? Whatever. I don't care. Get out. Bye." The blonde huffed, pulling her own iPhone from her back pocket and groaning when the same 'no service' message was still displayed where her carrier's name should be.
"Emma.." Mary Margaret sighed, pushing her dark hair behind her hair and opening her mouth to say more before a chime from her phone interrupted her. "Look, honey.. Victor and I both agreed that this would be best. We love you and we only want what's best for you and right now that's being away from all the bad influences and temptations that are back home. Just.. remember our deal, alright? You get through this summer and the Manhattan condo is all yours. No dorm room. Deal?"
"It's not like you really gave me a choice. Whatever. I said get out." The blonde said casually, even though the redness in her freckled cheeks and the fire in her eyes gave away how pissed she really was at her mother. The woman was always quick to make a every decision a 'Victor and I' and had been ever since she married him when Emma was ten. The infuriating woman had been trying to force a father-daughter relationship on them from the start and it had only gotten more annoying as time went on.
"I love you, Em." The woman sighed, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before getting up and walking out of the door, once again immersed in whatever she was doing on her phone. "I'll call!" She called back as Emma heard her heels descending the stairs.
"Please don't!" The blonde called back just as cheerily before scoffing and flopping backwards onto the bed, thanking the heavens that it was at least comfortable. Bright eyes stared hatefully at the ceiling as she heard another pair of footsteps that eventually stopped at her doorway.
"Dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all." Ingrid stated, leaning against the doorway and looking at her granddaughter's form sprawled about the bed. The blonde didn't even look at her to acknowledge her presence. "I got you a job in town. You start Monday. We'll speak more on the details when you're a little more settled in, alright?"
"I'm not hungry and I'm not working." The blonde scoffed, swinging her legs where they hung over the side of the bed.
"I don't have to do more than offer to feed you. Whether or not you eat is up to you, but dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all." Ingrid repeated simply, eyeing the stubborn girl on the bed sternly. "And if you're going to be living in this house, you will work. The mayor has been gracious enough to do me a favor and let you fill the spot of her secretary while Ashley Boyd is out on maternity leave. She's not going to put up with your bullshit, you here?"
"We don't swear in this house." The blonde mimicked, propping herself up on her elbows and fixing the older woman with a smirk. "I don't have to listen to you, you know? I don't listen to Mary Margaret and her delusions and I sure as hell don't have to listen to yours."
Ingrid simply shrugged and pushed off from the door frame, turning her back to the blonde and taking a step out of the room. "Dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all. You start work Monday. Goodnight, darling." She said as she closed the door behind her and her footsteps faded away.
Emma groaned and rolled her eyes, throwing her middle finger up at the door before flipping back down, placing a pillow over her face and letting out a frustrated scream.
This was going to be a long summer.