7:30 AM
In the end it wasn't the alarm clock, on which she had hit snooze something like five times before loosing interest altogether, but her roommate's scandalized bustling that rousted the new Sheriff (And wasn't that an adjustment? A week later and she was still expecting to wake up in the cramped backseat of her bug and find it all a dream.) from the cocoon she'd made on her bed.
"Emma! You're not up yet?"
Mary Margaret had her mom voice on, harried as she tucked in the day's flower patterned blouse and peered around the bedroom door at the blond mop that was all that was visible of Emma.
"You're going to be late!"
Emma had a half formed thought of throwing something at her, a shoe perhaps, or the clock that was just as annoyingly shrill so early in the morning, but toppled over the edge of her mattress instead. She cursed as her tail-bone hit the floor with a dull thunk, still tangled up in her blanket nest.
It was lucky, really, that she hadn't brained herself on the bedside table.
Mary Margret was unsympathetic. "Coffee's still warm, if you get to it soonish. See you later, Emm!"
And then she was gone, still worming into her coat as she thundered out the door. Off to run into David, probably.
Emma dressed in a flurry, grateful for once to not be particularly high maintenance, though really she was more worried about missing Henry than being on time for work. The only one in the office to notice anyway was Leroy, snug in his cell after yet another rowdy night, and he could wait. It was being called in around midnight to haul his ass in that had her so tired in the first place.
The last thing to slip in place was her badge. It still felt odd, clipping that little golden star to her belt, but she found that she liked the weight of it against her hip, a solid representation of the roots that were starting to spread beneath her feet.
The coffee was lukewarm by the time she got to it-She could just hear Mary Margaret, "If you'd been up on time!"- and she resolved to stop by Granny's before making her morning rounds. And a grab a bear-claw while she was at it. Some stereotypes were worth perpetuating.
8:03 AM
"You're shirt's backwards." Henry informed her as they stood saying their farewells in front of his school, facing each-other properly for the first time since they'd met up for what had become their routine morning walk.
"No it's-" But it was, the tag peaking out at her neck like a flag, -And how had she failed to notice that, itchy little thing that it was?- and Emma tucked it in with an annoyed shrug of her shoulders.
Henry grinned in away that would have been annoying if he hadn't been so adorable standing there with his little TRON lunch-box and big puppy eyes. She ruffled his hair-Kid needed a hair cut, she noted- and gave him a little nudge up the sidewalk. "Thanks kid. Have a good day."
He waved back at her as he ran up the steps with his classmates and her heart clenched a little bit at the sight. If she'd ever had any hope of not getting attached it had well and truly flown out the window.
8:15 AM
She was there, at a corner booth by the window, looking positively innocent with her newspaper spread out before her. She had a pen in her hand, doing the morning crossword like any normal woman might before heading into work. There was no trace of the bitch-queen in the smile she gave Ruby as the red streaked waitress delivered her bill, no animosity in the relaxed slope of her shoulders.
No, Regina's nastiness was lately by and large reserved for Emma, the Sheriff thought, watching perfect white teeth gnaw thoughtfully at a plump, red painted bottom lip. It was a strange glimpse at Mayor Mills the person, just another woman at her morning.
"Uh, Emma?"
Emma jerked around, hauled from her scrutiny of Regina's hands (There was something utterly fascinating in the way those fine boned fingers tucked the brunette's hair behind her ear.) by Ruby's careful clearing of her throat. Judging by the waitress's wide eyed amusement, she'd been trying to get Emma's attention for a while.
"Huh? Oh. Just a coffee please, Rubes? And a bear claw." God she needed a sugar rush right now.
Ruby smiled, a brilliant flashing of teeth. "Coming right up, Sheriff."
Emma glanced back at Regina's corner but the dark woman was already gone, the impeccably neat table top leaving little evidence that she had ever actually been there.
8:45 AM
"'Bout time, Sheriff. I was starting to get worried."
Leroy stretched lazily as he waited for Emma to unlock his cell and the blond turned the key with a resounding click. She didn't open the door right away, instead bracing herself against the bars as she eyed him with a quirked brow.
"I don't suppose telling you to behave again will do any good, will it?"
"Nope."
Her morning was quiet and paperwork filled after he'd stumbled out, large dollops of her time spent spinning her chair round in bored frustration and sharpening pencils just to throw them at the ceiling.
This she could have done without. There was no excitement in being the sheriff of a small town, no chase or fight.
Then Mrs. Gunderson called to inform her that Mr. Whiskers was once again stuck up a tree.
Emma wasn't convinced that rescuing cats was part of a Sheriff's duties but evidently Graham had always taken care of it in the past.
His death was still to raw to be cursing his name yet but she suspected it was only a matter of time.
10:10 AM
Mr. Whiskers, it turned out, was no ordinary cat. He was some fancy purebred devoid of hair and looked more gremlin than cat as he sat hunched among the branches, big golden eyes staring down at her.
"Okay, Creepy, I'm going to get you down. Nice kitty..."
As soon as Emma's arms wrapped around the little beast he flipped shit, claws digging in everywhere they could reach. When she finally had to let him go or risk loosing a limb, he twisted around like an acrobat and bounded down the tree neatly enough on his own.
When she finally caught him, having thrown her jacket over him and jumped him with a fairly spectacular tackle, Mrs. Gunderson was anything but pleased. She cooed to her "poor traumatized baby" all the while Emma limped her way back down the drive to her cruiser, and probably long after she had pulled away.
12:04 PM
"Sheriff Swan, I told you I wanted those forms on my desk by noon."
Emma was too busy bleeding all over her desk to fully appreciate the force of the Mayor's glare as the woman stood over her, hands firmly planted on pinstripe covered hips. The first aid kit was spread out over the wooden surface and the Sheriff was bent awkwardly, trying to apply peroxide to a particularly nasty looking scratch on the back of her elbow.
"It's-" Emma glanced at the clock on the wall, "Six after. Chill."
"I most certainly will not chill. I assume you enjoy getting paid? It's not likely to continue if I can't review your budget plan- What happened to you?"
She seemed to notice for the first time exactly what it was the sheriff was doing and the blond grimaced. "Got into a fight with a gremlin."
Regina's perpetual scowl turned puzzled. "A fight with a-What?"
The peroxide splashed over Emma's knee, missing the mark entirely, and her brows climbed skyward. "Seriously? Mogwai? Cute little creature that turns all evil? You can't tell me you've never seen that movie?" The brick wall that was Regina's face didn't change and Emma let out a huff. "Ooookay then. It was Mrs. Gunderson's cat. Creepy little bastard."
Regina suddenly snatched the brown bottle of peroxide, smacking Emma's hands away irritably. "Miss Swan you're making a mess all over what I can only assume are my forms."
Emma eyed the stack of papers she'd been leaning over guiltily, seeing red smudges all over what were indeed the forms she owed the mayor.
Emma was surprised when, instead of snatching up the papers and storming away as she had expected, the Mayor pulled up a chair and picked up where Emma left off. She was far rougher with the cleansing than was particularly necessary but there was a certain gentleness to the way she smoothed the band-aids over the worst of the scratches.
'She's a mom.' Emma realised, finding herself once again caught up in watching those hands. 'She's done this before.'
The thought made a lump stick in Emma's throat.
"There." As the last cotton swab was tossed in the garbage can Emma found herself the sole focus of intense brown eyes. It left her riveted in place. "You will print those out again."
"Yeah, sure."
"Excellent. I want them within the hour, Sheriff. Don't dawdle."
And she was gone again, with the clicking of heels, though this time Emma was certain she left the scent of something like apples in her wake, marking that she'd been there.
3:15 PM
"I still have no idea who he is." Henry said after they passed Mr. Gold on the sidewalk, waving at the man even as he frowned in puzzlement.
Emma, hands shoved deep in her pockets and feeling good enough about herself to swagger just a little bit as she walked her son home (She had in fact made her deadline and had a blissfully uneventful afternoon), wrinkled her nose. "Who, Mr. Gold?"
"Yeah, you know." Henry's voice dropped to a loud whisper, "His fairy tale self."
"Well, his last name's Gold." Emma shrugged, arms still smarting too much to feel particularly like arguing about the reality of Fairy Tales. She threw out the first name that came to mind, "Maybe he's Midas. You know, the guy with the golden touch."
Henry considered this seriously, little hands swinging his now empty lunch box, and Emma couldn't help but smile fondly. She wished dearly he could let this curse thing go but she loved to see him thinking about things, wondering. He was such a smart boy.
5:00 PM
Mary Margaret, Emma was pleased to see when she finally slumped in their apartment door, had cooked. She closed her eyes on the threshold and let the warm smell of homemade spaghetti waft over her. Living with someone who had actual culinary skills was complete and utter heaven.
Her roommate was all smiles and questions over dinner, genuinely interested in hearing how Emma's day had gone and delighting in the stories she told while sharing her own.
She let herself bask in the novel feeling of having a friend, family. A sister, maybe- or, if Henry was to be believed, a mother.
Which was too weird to even think about.
8:30 PM
When Emma finally crawled beneath her sheets, it was with a certain degree of contentment in spite of the dully aching cat induced war wounds and the bruise on her backside.
Her cell phone buzzed, rattling on her bedside table and she snatched it up. She was a little surprised, squinting at the bright back light in the darkness of her bedroom, at the identity of the texter but found herself smiling none the less.
'How are your arms?'
'Fantabulous, Madam Mayor. So sweet of you to ask.'
'I can't very well have the Sheriff dying of infection now can I? What ever would we do without your endless wit to protect us?'
'Whatever, Regina. You know you were worried about me.'
'Goodnight, Sheriff Swan.'
'I'll just take that as a yes.'
There was no response and Emma buried her smirking face in her pillows.
12:30 AM
"HuhWaaizit?"
"Emma?" Ruby's voice was unmistakable even over the phone and Emma, now mostly awake, groaned into her pillow.
"What did Leroy do this time?"