[Disclaimer: I own nothing. It makes me sad to say it but it's not true.]
Storybrooke was not a big town. At least, Emma Swan had never really seen it as one. It could be because she was from Boston - mostly - and after that anything in Maine seemed small. But it could also be because it was a one diner town where everyone seemed to know everyone. Or they had, until the new sheriff came toting around two homeless children looking for their father.
Emma had never anticipated that finding Ava and Nicholas's father would be the task it was, though the interference from Regina was admittedly a hindrance she was foolish not to anticipate. If she hadn't thought to call Tillman to tow her car at the last moment, she wasn't sure what she would have done about the siblings. Or Henry since he was so convinced that some unspeakable horror would have befallen them all if she had taken the two out of Storybrooke.
All in all, the past few days had exhausted her and given her a new appreciation for the duties of a sheriff. There were a few things she was ready to do such as crawl into bed or have a drink but at the top of the list of things she didn't want to deal with were mysterious strangers driving into town on motorcycles perking her son's interest in the curse -
- and calls to deal with a case of drunk and disorderly.
Emma had just dropped Henry off at Regina's home when the call came in, prompting her to groan with exaggeration.
"Aren't small towns supposed to be quiet?" she grumbled to herself as she got in her car to respond to the call. The Rabbit Hole was on the other side of town but, as if to prove to her that it really was a small town, the drive from the Mayor's home was a quick one.
Stepping out of the car she eyed the entrance to the bar and another groan slipped from her lips. The bar was downstairs. Just the thought of having to drag some old fat drunk up the stairs to the squad car was making her question this whole sheriff decision over again. But she'd made a commitment and she wasn't one to be scared by the prospect of dragging some low life anywhere. She'd been a bail bonds person after all. This was right up her alley and - sadly - one of the most normal things she'd do in Storybrooke.
The moment she entered the bar, the drunk in question was easy to spot. He defied expectation, though. From her Boston upbringing, she'd expected the 'regularly drunk fool' she'd been called to clean up was some middle aged mess making a scene at the bar but what she found was different. The man's stubble covered jaw was sharp and his eyes, though glazed, were a striking blue. He was standing at the pool tables, growling at a group of pissed off looking men who seemed to be gearing up for a fight.
The bartender was the first to notice Emma and he nodded over to the group, confirming her guess as to which man she was here to pick up. The drunk was the second to catch sight of her and his eyebrow raised in an emotion she couldn't distinguish between satisfied or confused. Then his eyes drifted from her face to his badge and a cocky smirk crossed his lips.
"I'd almost forgot we have a new sheriff in town." His accent slurred with his drunken words and as he moved toward her, he stumbled a bit. The men he'd been arguing with watched him with dark expressions but he seemed to have completely forgotten them. "I guess Nick called you to pick me up for causing trouble. Or was it for not paying my tab?" He looked questioningly to the bartender - Nick - and back to Emma. "Or maybe he just thought I could use a pick me up tonight."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Stick with your first instinct, buddy. No one is picking you up tonight." There was a moment of silence as the wobbly man deciphered her words through his drunken haze and then a rich hearty laugh broke past his lips. "You're going to be a lot more fun than Graham was." He shrugged and took a step toward her and for a moment it seemed like he was going to make this easy for her. Then he held up a hand, opening his palm as if to tell her to just hold on one second. "If I'm going to spend the night in a jail cell, at least let me really earn it." With a speed that surprised her considering his apparent level of intoxication, he spun around and swung at the man he'd been arguing with moments before. His fist collided with the larger man's jaw with a sickening crunch, freezing everyone in the bar for one split second.
In the next moment, everyone was moving. Emma shot forward at the same time the injured man's friends did and she only just managed to get herself between the drunk and the crowd before more damage could be done.
"Alright, enough!" Her voice could barely be heard over the din but her presence - and her badge - succeeded in pausing the angry men. She turned to the drunk who was laughing and leaning against the pool table for support and narrowed her eyes at him. "Come on." She grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, spinning him around and pulling his hands behind his back so she could cuff them.
The shocks just kept coming with this guy. Expecting to see two hands, Emma paused in surprised when she saw one hand and one...hook? The man she had pressed firmly against the pool table turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Confused what to do with one of those? I could give you crash course, if you like." His mocking tone pulled her out of her surprise and she gave him an extra shove against the table, earning a groan. She spared another second figuring out what to do before she just settled for gripping the upper arm of his good hand and pulling him toward the stairs.
Getting him up the stairs was more trouble that she'd even anticipated which was all the more surprising considering that the man she was half dragging and half carrying was half the size she'd been expecting.
"That was one hell of a first impression," she snapped at him as she opened the door of her car and lowered him into it. His laughter had subsided on their journey up the stairs and for all his bravado, his smile was fading.
"Consider it a welcome to town," he offered as he leaned his head back against the seat. She quirked an eyebrow of her own as he settled quickly in the car. It was almost like he was resigned to the night he was about to spend in the drunk tank. There was something about this guy, she thought as she slipped into the driver's seat and started the car. Something different. And not in a good way.
Emma and the drunk spent the car ride in silence. Emma spent the time considering that as far as Storybrooke went, this was the first relatively routine thing she'd done as Sheriff. Up until now, the largest criminal element she'd been introduced to had been - well - herself. After all, she'd spent half of the time she'd known Graham in one of the two jail cells the town had. It occurred to her that she really had no idea what she was doing here. She just hoped that Graham had a file on this guy somewhere and, if she was lucky, it would provide a basic outline on what the hell she was supposed to do.
For his part, the man in the back of the car spent the ride staring out the window. His colorful commentary from the bar seemed to have stayed there when Emma had deposited him in the car. Either this wasn't a new experience for him, which she was willing to bet on, or this had been his goal all along, which Emma didn't put past him either. He was a curious one, she'd give him that at least. And curious was just something Emma didn't have the energy for anymore of.
Getting him from the car into the station and a cell was only a bit easier than getting him out of the bar had been. The stairs leading into the sheriff's office proved difficult as not enough time had passed for the man to sober up and he seemed less than helpful. He wasn't resisting, exactly, he just seemed not to care. He dropped heavily onto the cot in the cell, lying down and closing his eyes as Emma tried to figure out what she was supposed to do next.
"Baird comma James." The voice seemed almost disembodied, coming from the prone man in the cell. James Baird. "File cabinet by the door. Top drawer." Emma followed the directions but paused for an eye roll at his final words. "It's the big one." She pulled the drawer open and, dirty joke aside, it was an impressively large file.
"So this is you." She carried the file back to her desk, opening it up and confirming the mugshot matched the man lying just on the other side of the room. The glazed eyes in the photograph were the same piercing blue, though the stubble was more pronounced on the living man than the photographed one. James Baird aka Jimmy. Thirty two years old. Arrested steadily for years for drunk and disorderly, a few counts of aggravated assault. Nothing major, just a lot of bad nights. According to the various notes Graham had made in the file, it seemed that the usual practice was to let him sober up overnight and send him back into the world first thing in the morning.
"You spend a lot of time in here, Baird." She was only half talking to her companion, focused more on the file in front of her. But it didn't stop him from answering.
"What can I say, I like the company." The joking tone of his voice was gone and Emma - a woman well versed in reading people - started to wonder what exactly he liked better about the Sheriff's office than his own home. "And you can call me Jimmy. Beautiful women get to call me Jimmy." As quickly as it was gone, the bravado was back, though he was starting to sound tired.
Tired. It hit Emma how truly exhausted she was. By now, it was into the wee hours of the morning and she'd been tired before she was called to collect Jimmy. It didn't seem like there was a lot more for her to do here since it was clear Graham never bothered to book or keep Baird and who was she to argue with a system that no one seemed to mind? Jimmy didn't make a sound as she stood and gathered her things or walked toward the door and Emma left in silence, locking the door behind her.
[AN: So! There it is! The beginning of what I hope will become my epic fanfic project. It has a playlist which I might post at somepoint but for right now, just listen to Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson. Seriously. And, you all know the drill here on . Review, review, review! The faster you review, the faster I write because I am vain.]
