A/n: Most of this story will be from Emma's pov but I might change that up. Also for anyone anal about legal references, I did some research with regards to this chapter and overall plotline, but my only knowledge of prison life is from OITNB and other crime shows so I apologize if there are any inaccuracies.
She hated this room. Emma spent the past hour and a half studying the small concrete enclosure. She hated almost every aspect of it. The buzzing of the florescent light and the dead firefly in its case, the uneven wooden table and the chip in its corner, the white tiled floor with flecks of blue as if that made it less depressing, the square clock that would click louder on every eighth second, the spider web in the left corner of the room and how asymmetrical it was, and the squeak of the chair she sat on were all on her list of many hated things about the room. But none came close to how much she detested the woman sitting before her.
"Emma? Do you want to tell me how this happened?"
Emma stared into the woman's eyes. They were warm and brown, like the hot chocolate she just finished, or like mud. She had a pale, round face with hints of blush. Her name was Ms. Blanchard, but she insisted that Emma called her Mary. Mary wore a pale yellow cardigan and had a notepad with pink flowers in the upper left corner, to match the pink pen that rested in her hand. She would probably describe herself as optimistic, caring, or motherly, but all Emma could think was that she was weak.
She had been to a juvenile detention center twice before; once because of a drunk in public incident, and another because her foster parents were born straight out of hell and decided juvie was the best way to 'teach her a lesson' and it was 'for her own good'. Emma smirked at that thought. The scar on her right calf made it clear that it wasn't good for anyone.
"Emma, what are you laughing about? I'm here to help you, you know."
Despite the condescending words, they were spoken with the same bubbly tone as every previous statement that left Miss Blanchard's mouth. Refocusing on her situation, she realized that the woman in front of her was most likely as good as she could get for a public defender of a seventeen year old orphan with previous charges. For the first time in an hour, she decided it would benefit her to speak.
"So, what have they charged me with?"
She could easily see the signs of relief as she spoke, but Emma just rolled her eyes as she saw a flash of white teeth and a new volley of bubbles in her voice.
"Well, you must be aware of the record that you managed to build over the past... five years." Mary glanced at the file to reread just what Emma had done when she was twelve. Her voice faltered, making Emma almost grin with pride, but she continued.
"And you have caused a few problems along the way with underage drinking, disobedience, vandalism, loitering, shoplifting and… wow jaywalking. I didn't think people actually got written up for that anymore. Anyway, I'm sure we can work the whole mislead and troubled teen orphan angle. You don't seem like you enjoy asking for favors or sympathy but in this case you need it more than your pride."
Emma's small smile of previous achievements faded as Mary quickly cut to the chase. Apparently, she was smarter than she looked, although that wasn't saying much.
"And as for your charges… I'm afraid that Ms. West, the owner of the store you were found fleeing from, wants to press charges. Now that was a given, but she is pushing to try you as an adult, being that you are close to your eighteenth birthday."
Emma's green eyes widened a fraction and her throat dried up. This wasn't supposed to happen. She never got caught with any of the serious stuff. Emma could just hear the older woman's voice over her steadily increasing heart rate.
"…and we can use that angle as I said earlier, but until then you will have to be held in the nearest women's correctional facility."
Emma mumbled how it's a prison not a facility as her cheeks warmed with anger. Her shock was replaced with a blink of fear which made her angry. She wasn't scared of anything, she could handle it. It wasn't her fault; she did it all to survive. And now she's going to be locked up, all for saving her own life?
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said it's a prison! So why can't anyone call it what it is? Are you saying I have to stay there until my trial? That's total bullshit!"
Ms. Blanchard surprisingly didn't flinch, but she did stutter.
"W-well because you'll be tried as an adult- "
But Emma had already snapped, screaming as she stood up,
"No! Fucking juvie was bad enough and those were kids in there! How could I survive in a woman's prison? Like you said I'm some pathetic orphan right?! Would they really kick a puppy while it's down? And they couldn't even bother to get me a real fucking lawyer, could they? I had to survive on the streets most of my life and now it's all over because some ignorant, amateur, cardigan bitch doesn't know enough to get me out of this shithole!"
The silence that followed was broken only a moment after when a young man with familiar kind eyes and a sheriff's badge stuck his head through the doorway.
"Is everything okay in here Mary?" He asked, eyeing Emma carefully, who shortly realized she wasn't helping herself and sat down stiffly before glancing back at Ms. Blanchard.
This time there was no stutter.
"Yes, Emma here just needed to let off some steam. Thank you."
She spoke with such a light and airy tone that Emma second guessed if she had heard any of what was just said. All she could do was gape at the interaction.
"Alright well here are the official charges," the sheriff handed Ms. Blanchard a folder and then looked towards Emma, telling her he would need to take a statement before they moved her. She couldn't find any meaning for those words because she was too lost in figuring out where she had met him before.
Just as he turned to leave, it hit her.
"You were the one who arrested me."
He turned back to look at her, with sympathy in his small smile.
"You were the one who ran."
Emma smirked, she would always run. Then another thought crossed her mind. "Thank you, for uh… well, I've been here before and the last cop treated me like I was a serial rapist. Or a pedophile. Whichever is worse really."
She cringed as she recalled the multiple bruises and fractured wrist from her last visit. Emma knew it looked off to thank the man who had just arrested her, but he was just doing his job, and she liked having fully functional arms and a bruise-less torso.
"Both are about as bad as you can get. And you're just a kid, it's my job to get the bad guys off the streets, you don't seem like one."
And with that, he left the room. Emma was still trying to recover from such a dramatic change of anger to near peace with her situation, and then she remembered what would happen to her and the words she just spoke to the only person willing, or maybe unwilling now, to help her. But to her surprise, Ms. Blanchard sat with a small smile looking at her.
"What?" Emma asked, sounding slightly harsher than she intended. She received no reply, but Ms. Blanchard simply opened the folder with an unchanging face.
After several minutes of silence she repeated her original inquiry.
"Do you want to tell me how this happened, Emma?"
Even though she knew she was in no place to make demands, she had to try, "I will if you tell me what's in that folder."
Ms. Blanchard smiled, and returned her childish behavior, "I asked first."
Emma rolled her eyes, but began to tell her what happened hours ago.
Emma sat behind a black Mercedes and waited for her to turn out the light. She shivered, with only thin pieces of fabric between the harsh wind and herself. Just as she had second thoughts about waiting out in the cold, she saw the darkness that cast itself over the street as the lights of the pawnshop were extinguished. Emma could hear the walk of the owner as she made her way to her car in unbelievably high heels. Once she was out of sight Emma made her way to the back door that had a sign stating "Use front door to enter Zelena's Pawn".
She pulled out two slim metal tools and concentrated on the lock until she heard that satisfying click. The door squeaked open and she got to work, unfazed by the thick smell of mothballs and varnish. Emma got the cash out of the register and then she looked for clothes, cheap jewels, and food. Noticing anything of value that wouldn't cause suspicion, she placed the items in her bag. Emma was quick and quiet about it, and always alert. That's why she was so surprised when light flooded the room.
She came face to face with the pawnshop owner, who was an aging woman with graying strands of hair falling in front of her beady green eyes to match her sickly green dress. Despite her older age, she had managed to hit the alarm before Emma dashed for the back door. As she ran she heard her yelling something along the lines of how she was the scum of the earth.
The young blonde ran down the empty alleyway and into the street. Having only been in the town for a few hours, she was unaware of its name, much less the fact that she was headed directly towards the Sheriff's station. Emma turned around the corner and was caught by flashing lights. She heard the car skid to a stop and she ran into the next alley. It was a dead end. Emma was trying to find any reason why someone would build a dead end alleyway, or street for that matter, when she felt strong hands grip her arm.
She braced herself, preparing to be thrown on the ground like last time, but that was all she suffered through- a strong grip. The man didn't hurt her, but his grip was iron. The only thing she remembered after the short drive to the station was the clock tower that read 8:15and being handed a blanket and hot cocoa.
Ms. Blanchard nodded along with Emma's words, asking a few more questions and taking notes. Then she answered Emma's fateful question.
"Ms. West wants to charge you with a class C theft which-"
But the look on Emma's face let Ms. Blanchard know that she had no idea what a class C was.
"-is like grand theft aut-"
"Woah, wait isn't that like if you steal a sports car? Or a shit ton of jewelry?"
Forcing herself to smother a giggle at her client's ignorance, Ms. Blanchard elaborated.
"Actually grand theft could be referring to when a high value of goods is stolen, and because cars are so valuable they are automatically placed under that category. Although most states have a grand theft minimum between one and ten thousand. Luckily for you, Maine doesn't have that law. So a-"
"A thousand dollars! I know I didn't take that much! Seriously that witch came in about a minute after I got in there."
"Well, according to this statement, it seems that you grabbed a necklace that Ms. West is claiming costs fifteen hundred. Being a family heirloom also adds an emotional connection that the court would also sympathize with, so I would not recommend you wishing to plead not guilty."
"Well, obviously. I'm not an idiot, they caught me red handed."
Emma said with a bitter tone in her voice. Possibly too bitter, because it seemed that Ms. Blachard's tough shell was wearing down in the face of Emma's stubborn independence. Sighing, Emma decided to try to help Ms. Blanchard help her.
"So, Ms. Blanchard-"
"No, please call me Mary."
"Alright, Mary. How long am I looking at here?"
"A class C theft is punishable by up to 5 years in jail, usually at least one year-"
The words hit Emma and Mary saw the blood draining from the blonde's cheeks. Trying to reassure the young girl, she went on.
"-but due to your situation and how close you are to being a lower classed crime, I doubt you will be sentenced anything over two years. Probably closer to one year and with good behavior months can be cut off… You aren't hopeless Emma. It must sound scary now, but you will see how quickly time will go by when you're there."
Despite her ghostly white appearance, Emma clenched her hands into fists.
"I'm not scared."
Mary Blanchard wished to tell her that it was okay to be scared, but it was clear that Emma had built herself a suit of armor when it came to her emotions. Although her previous words were words of comfort and reassurance, Mary was certain that Emma would need her suit of armor to make it through the next year of her life. So rather than attempting to force Emma's guard down, she accepted its presence with a nod of her head.
There was a knock at the door that ended the short silence. The sheriff that had brought Emma in stepped into the small room and spoke to her rather than Ms. Blanchard.
"Emma, I'm going to have to escort you to your overnight cell."
Nodding, Emma stood and moved to follow him when Ms. Blanchard stopped her.
"Is there anyone you would like to call?"
Her voice was hollow when she replied with a solemn no. Mary tried to hide her sympathy for the girl as she informed her of how the next few weeks would proceed.
"Alright, well if that changes let me know. I still have to wait until everything is filed before I know the date of the preliminary hearing. We don't know yet when you'll be moved down to the women's county jail but until then you can stay here. At the preliminary we will be claiming guilty, but I will plead for your case to be given leeway and show it in a light that makes it apparent you stole for survival and not because you're some hooligan.-"
Her small speech was interrupted by Emma's snort.
"Hooligan? You've got to be kidding…"
"Well, I know it's not the most prof-"
Once again, she was interrupted. This time it was by her cell phone ringing in her pocket. Once she retrieved it and saw the caller ID, she quickly gave an explanation of how important it was. But the even darker blush on her cheeks was clear to both Emma and the sheriff.
After she left, he cleared his throat and asked Emma,
"So, protocol requires me to cuff you during any transfers. But I hope I can trust you, because I would feel quite silly restraining you to walk a few meters."
Emma enjoyed the sound of his accent, trying to discern if it was Irish or Scottish, before reassuring him that she was not a mobster waiting to take him out. Moments later, Emma found out just how close the holding room was to two cells that shared a room with an office.
"Wow, you really weren't joking."
With a slight chuckle, he agreed.
"Because we are such a small town we rarely have any action going on. So we don't have many resources. That being said, if you need to use the bathroom let me know. And we don't really have any regulations for overnight stays because in most cases it's just the town drunk on a weekend, but have you eaten? All we have here are pop tarts, but I wouldn't mind running to the diner."
Emma froze. She couldn't understand why he was being so nice to her.
"Wow. I should get arrested in small towns more often."
He simply smiled.
"Well I'm heading down to the diner in a few minutes anyway so is that a yes or no to food?"
"Fuck yes to food! I- I'm sorry for the language but I haven't eaten in… well, it's been a while."
Emma could see some of the light in his eyes fade when she said this. Telltale signs of sympathy were making themselves known so she did her best to avoid it.
"Yeah, so just get me whatever you're getting. I'm going to the bathroom."
And before he could even reply she turned and locked herself in the small tiled room. Groaning at her own reflection when she noticed the alarming amount of dirt on her cheek, she moved to wash her face. After she was satisfied she simply enjoyed a few moments of solitude to collect her thoughts. The past few hours did not go as she had expected.
When Emma exited the bathroom, she came face to face with a scruffy looking man. Similarly built to the sheriff with a similar beard, but somehow he looked as if he just stepped out of the forest.
"Hey, my name is Robin. I'm just here to make sure you don't run away while Graham gets dinner."
Emma nodded. They were a small town but they were not incompetent. After he locked her in the small cell with a pathetic excuse of a bunk in it they sat in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. She didn't like something about the way he held himself.
When Graham got back she was more than happy to eat the double bacon cheeseburger and every last fry, silently wondering when she would be able to eat like this again. So busy with her food, she never noticed Robin eyeing her with slight disgust.
"Well you sure know how to eat a burger, especially for a lady."
Snorting, in an intentionally unladylike manor, Emma retorted.
"Well what is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean that you should-"
"-he means nothing. Do you Robby?" Graham interrupted, with his entire demeanor darkening.
"My name is Robin you prick. Whatever, I'm done with this anyway."
He grabbed his half eaten burger, tossing it in the waste basket, and walked out the door. Emma was slightly confused at the situation and Grahams soft laughter did not clarify anything.
"Wait, doesn't he work here? Can he just do that?"
"Oh no, Robby boy is my brother. He is- well, was- a thief, hence why he hates when I call him Robby. And he doesn't work here, technically. But he does help out as part of his path to recovery."
"Well how can I sign up? This place must be loads better than prison."
"Unfortunately, you robbed the wrong shop. Robby hit the Jefferson's estate and I was able to talk them out of charges and all items were returned, but you on the other hand… you went to the wicked witch of the west. She has that reputation for a reason. On Halloween she always tricks, never treats. I actually think one year she egged the kids."
Despite Emma's deflating hope for a slighter sentencing, she was amused at the image of the old woman wreaking havoc on the town. The two continued talking about the daily drama's of small town life as Graham threw away the take out wrappers. When he sat down at his desk again he noticed Emma yawning.
"I'm going to head out for the night so you can get some rest in peace. We actually have bunks in the back so just yell if you need anything."
Graham threw another smile over his shoulder as he turned out all but one lamp light and left the room. It didn't take long after that before Emma fell asleep with the prospects of her future weighing heavily on her.
She only slept for four hours before she was woken up and told that she was being transported to the county jail.