Ok...

1. Hello, Bonjour, Hola, Greetings, Ahoj, Hallo, Ciao, work work work work work... dur dur dur dur dur (for the people who only speak Rihanna at the moment, lol) I am Chink in Armour, not Chicken Armour, so don't get that twisted, and I am an *AA.

2. Trigger Warning: This whole story is a trigger warning and that's all I'm giving and letting on. So you find something offensive, ping! trigger warning. I want this to be a surprise for all that way suspense is coming out the blue. I may be "nice" and put some warning, random at that, so... hehe.

3. This is SQ, but established, meaning work, helleuva lot, is needed. So just enjoy the ride... and buckle up. Your safety (or emotional state) isn't guaranteed... and I care about you guys, ok? So don't fall off the ride.

[Disclaimer]: Why would I own the characters of the show? We all know SQ would've been happened, so don't think I'm tryna steal it. If I were to own the show too much work would be needed to set things right. I got better things to do, like... But no, I don't own the characters, that's all the writers and company, so bleh!

*Got you didn't I? AA is Astounding Author, so if you're an author as well, then be this with me. If not, but a reader, then you're an **ER, Enthusiastic Reader, so thank you very much ;D

**I just realized that sounded like I gave someone a sticker saying "Enthusiastic Reader!" or "You're Grape!" I'll work on it


"Ok, awesome! Thanks Ma!" And oh did her heart swell of those last two words. This was definitely worth it.


Maybe it wasn't worth it. First she was content as her and Henry made way to the diner for their orders. Then her mood deflated a bit as she was receiving preposterous and assertive texts from her husband after her original text stating that her and Henry would spend the night at the mansion since Henry thought it was a good idea. That just fused the pirate even more as he went on that "the lad doesn't know what's good for him" or "he should be grateful he doesn't live under the Queen's misery anymore." This then lead to a heated over the phone conversation out on the deceased Mayor's porch as Henry was inside feeling his spirits uplift.

Now…

Now her mood was shitastic.

She dropped her head and let it thud against the pillar of the mansion. Not feeling the satisfaction enough she thudded again, and again, and again. She couldn't stop nor didn't want to. This was well deserved and long overdue for a little self-inflicted harm for her late stupidity of how she handled things. She sucked as a sheriff, she sucked as a mother, and she sucked at being a wife. Saying she sucked at being a friend would be nice too, that is if she had any. At least then she knew she would have someone to talk to about the suckiness of her life. She was so out of it she failed to notice her son leaning against the door way with arms crossed against him just watching his mother thud her head repeatedly like sheep. Her breath caught from the way he was positioned, 'Just like Regina'.

"I would ask why are you causing harm on yourself but I overheard you talking to the pirate for a bit so I could care less what's said about that. Though, I need you alive and well till I can fend for myself and I sure as hell don't want to be in his custody, so could you stop?"

The blonde flinched at that a bit. "Thank you for the care of my wellbeing son."

"Not a problem Emma." Her lips pursed at the first name bases.

"Just so you know, if I was harmed or dead, you'd be in your grandparents' custody, not Killian's."

"And what?" he scoffed. "You think they wouldn't try to mend his and I's relationship? I can already hear Snow talking about it 'You need a male figure Henry. David can't always be around and Killian is your stepfather so he's entitled to bond with his son.' Uh, yeah no. You're the barrier Emma, so you need to stay put and not die or y'know... do something stupid."

"Oh, you mean Swan fashion?"

"You had that before Mom's death. Now it's just stupidity you'd be expressing."

"You know, I can take shit talk like that from your mother, but you are the child so you should definitely watch what you're saying boy."

"I'm not trying to insult you Emma," not as much, "but I just need you to still be here. And although I am aware that our relationship has strained much, I don't need to lose my other parent. I'm barely functioning with one gone." He said the last part in a tiny voice like the child he was that Emma couldn't help but feel guilt for that. He was right, he needed her 'though it doesn't seem like it' and she needed him too.

"Come now Swan" he smirked. "The night is still young, so let's live as much as we can; of course StoryBrooke standards so there aren't noise complaints."

"That's the spirit young Mills" she smiled along with him.

So that's what they did. They ate their food in the living room, still giving respect to the furniture and preventing spills, and played video games and talked some. Neither had felt like this for so long that it hurt to think about; especially since there was one person missing all of this for everything to feel normal. Henry was setting the next game up while Emma decided to head up to her room to grab something more comfortable to lounge in. She was making her way back downstairs when she passed a certain brunette's door.

That door has not been opened for a while. Henry use to go in there but it caused too much trouble with her smell still dancing in the air and the way she left things the day they journeyed to the Underworld. It's as if he wanted to preserve the memory of her, so there was no room for argument in that. Not that she was ever going to. Emma grabbed the knob and slowly turned it like danger was waiting for her to enter. Air is supposed to be stale and dusty when you enter in a room not occupied for such amounts of time. You are supposed to cough and slice the air repeatedly with your hand to clear the pieces floating in the air to prevent consuming in. But that wasn't the case with Regina Mills bedroom. It is never what it is supposed to be when it comes to her.

Instead of those said things you're supposed to feel, Emma was directly smacked with the scent of her majesty and the consequences were damned. Tears already pooled in her eyes while she breathed in the smell of apples, cinnamon, and something citrusy and took in her surroundings of the brunette's room. The queen or king sized bed, the vanity with things like cosmetics dispersed, and two doors—a closet and bathroom—showcasing their glory were all pressuring. She should get out while she can. But like Emma Swan fashion, 'or was it?' she threw caution to the wind and made way into the room.

She took it all in as if she was at a museum hearing the guide speak of the intricate details of what history was stored in this room. Her hand tentatively swept the duvet of the bed and was met with a sigh at the feel of satin, which is what she thought. She leant down to a pillow and smelled it only to bury her face in it from the smell of Her. She checked the vanity momentarily while seated feeling giddy that this was where the mayor of StoryBrooke would sit every morning prepping herself for the destruction of others and motherly duties of Henry.

Next was the bathroom at which the sight slapped a gawk on the blonde's face with the grandeur it exposed. One of those beautiful standalone, claw-footed tubs sat center stage with a glass shower case big enough for a bench, which was there 'hot damn', with walls tiled beautifully with those fancy gadget showerheads you can play with stood at to the side. The glass was so crystal clear that it startled her to see her own reflection reflecting the truth of her state. She walked slowly towards, her reflection becoming more refined by the step, and when she was in front of it, she placed both hands on the glass. Broken eyes stared directly back to her in the lambent glass. It was so much like a mirror, or rather another self of her, telling her what she has become that she hurriedly shunned her eyes away to avoid the mess of what she is. On the other side was a little room that at first the blonde thought was a toiletries closet but actually was a tiny secluded room for the toilet which she has yet to perceive. 'Damn, that's royalty right there, your own personal room to do your business.' Last and not least, not at all, was the imposing sink that was a bit too large for Emma's taste, 'but just right for a Queen' that donned everything of perfection. A glossy marbled white countertop coupling with black imperceptible cabinets beneath that showcased the sharp clarity mirror with wisps of detailed designs encompassing the borders. The whole room in its entirety screamed Regina Mills.

The last thing to inspect was the no doubt walk-in closet the Queen would have. If Emma thought the sight of the room was enough to cause tears and some feelings to swarm her, it was nothing compare to the scenery of everyday attire the Mayor of StoryBrooke would wear basking in the glory of her power suits and revealing dresses. Emma literally almost fainted on the spot, but instead swayed and clutched the wall from dear life taking it all in as she choked on bubbling sobs wanting to escape. It was too much yet it wasn't enough. She went through each and every piece of clothing that was hanged and—creepily like a stalker—sniffed all the clothes. In the back of her mind, which resided the real Emma Swan, was a telling that this was borderline creepy and invasive as hell, but she didn't care. No, far from it actually. What only mattered was filling the scent of her majesty within her as much as possible—without becoming emotional, 'Too late' or turned on, 'dammit!'

"Emma! Yo, what's taking so long? You comin' or not?" her son all but yelled from the bottom of the steps.

This caused to blonde to jump and scamper away clumsily almost knocking a mirror off a wall. "Sorry! I'll be down, just... having trouble finding my sweats!"

"Alright."

Heart thudding like a crazed convict locked away, the blonde had to get out while she can. But before she did she couldn't bear the thought to part from all of Regina's things. So like her questionable mental state advised she grabbed a favorite scarf used to be worn daily by Regina and parted ways with the room. Then she quickly headed to her room she resided in and stuffed the scarf in a separate bag, preserving the smell of the brunette, and shoved it down her duffel haphazardly throwing other things to obscure the image of it in case someone, 'though no one would', went through it. She just was getting out of the room when she smelt herself and bugged her eyes out with the conclusion that she smelt like the deceased brunette's room. This could cause controversy with Henry, so she changed clumsily out her clothes—threw those in a separate bag to preserve that smell too—and threw on something different of her usual scent.

She then descended from the stairs.

"Hey kid, ready to get creamed in Asphalt?"

"I know you are, don't be a sore loser now. Hey weren't you looking for sweats?"

"Yeah, must've forgotten to bring them, so settled with shorts. Scoot."


Emma Swan was never much for sleep, or relaxation either, since the person who plagues her thoughts day and night on continuity died years ago, Regina. After her burial and things went the same humdrum way of StoryBrooke life, Emma felt a piece of her had died. She had no one to backtalk, be cocky, or banter to. There was no drinking buddy to clink glasses late in the night with from escaping her parents' smothering, nor was there someone to speak with that understood the blonde. There was no more sharing of memories of her son with the thoughts given to her from Boston or the actual real events that happened during her absence of her son's life. There was no one to just be Emma Swan with and expect nothing more from her. Life was bleak without Regina Mills.

But some part of her felt more than relaxed and restful than she had been in so long. One would say the sight of the sheriff sniffing her shirt repeatedly as self-conscious of her hygiene, or some other weird shit. Another could say that's she's admiring the way she smelled. Or someone could say that she is more than likely wiping continuous boogers and snot that drains away from her nose. The middle one is more than correct. The sheriff definitely loved the way she smelt and couldn't get enough of it. That is… if it wasn't her scent. Yes, Emma Swan was sniffing the hell out of the shirt she wore in Regina's room the night prior and was feeling euphoric. Just sitting at her desk writing some less than important report with her other hand gripping the neck of her t-shirt, head crouched low taking in the scent like her life depends on it. Indeed it was a sight. The essence of the brunette was doing undeniable things to the blonde's nose making her feel light-headed and heart fluttering like a bird's wings. It was lulling her. And damn was she if she was ever to part from this god forbidden scent. Just thinking of that made her bundle the shirt more and shove it closer to her. She wouldn't be able to do this privately in her own home given that she sleeps with her husband and is always out and about doing sheriff work. So this was what she could compromise with.

That is what she thought.

"Hey Em"

"David!" The blonde quickly zipped her jacket all the way up and fumbled with her keyboard feigning work as she typed random letters harshly.

"Careful there Emma. I don't think the mayor would replace that if I were you."

"Thing is you ain't. If you were you would've been broken this piece of shit given that the mayor is your mother."

"And you haven't yet, why?"

"Nobody got time for that." Shit was true. Mary-Margaret is annoying as fuck when it comes to mayoral duties.

"Ah, I see. Couldn't agree more." Her father smiled.

"So uh, are you here picking something up or….?"

"Uh, no. Just going to get some paperwork done. Been lettin' it stack up lately and thought that it could end with me sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, MM takes no bs when come to her job."

"Indeed"

"Well, um, I'm going to patrol out for a bit. See if there's danger ahead in the alleys of this town."

"Uh huh. Or just hope to find something to play vigilante?"

"I wouldn't be hoping to play vigilante if this town had more interesting shit going on besides the change of menu for Grannie's Diner." She said as she flipped her hair back from the collar of her jacket.

"Yeah" he smiled wistfully leaning on his desk crossing his arms having the look of reminisce on his face. "Those were the days huh?"

"Right, until one of our own fell."

There was no coming back after saying that the blonde thought. But she couldn't care less. There was an itch starting at her that needed relief and David sure as hell wasn't going to prevent that.

"Erm," he cleared his throat abruptly, "just so you know, Ruby is also out on patrol now. So you could peruse around or uh, get some sleep." There, that has to be subtle enough.

"Dad…"

"Emma, sweetheart you look worse for wear. I know this because your mother has been tossing and turning too. Honey, I know rather how difficult it is given that it's that time again but you got to take better care of yourself. Even Killian is worried for you."

She knew he was right, but screw him, "I know—"

"No, you don't Emma." He replied sternly. "Have you seen yourself lately? You can't walk around moping like this, even for Henry's sake! Some of the residents are becoming worried that their sheriff isn't in her right mind. Emma, you yelled out in the street the other day why that stop sign on Main shouldn't be there and," he air quoted, "'shoved up the ass whose idea it was to put that there.' Your mother was devastated you'd want to do that to her."

The sheriff had to pretend to cough in her throat from the tickle in the back of it forming. Ah, yes. She has been ranting questionable things off her mother thought was good for the town.

"It is not moping David! I should've done something instead of what I did in… in…" she blew out a harsh gust of air. "I am grieving the loss of a friend and Henry's other mother!" We could've been so much more. "And tell Snow to stop putting those damn signs down like lollipops. Her candy-licking ass should know better than to put stop signs in a driveway!"

And with that Emma made her way out the station and walked aimlessly to whatever destination her heart desired. She had no means to drive the cruiser around or catch on sleep in her house where more than likely her husband was. She doesn't even know what he does given that he doesn't have a job. All that's been said was that, "a pirate has his ways, luv. Just let me see to it." This just resulted into more grumbling and curses about herself, her mother, father, curses of her son for bullshit he was throwing at her like earlier, and other nonsense. Her thoughts were just making way how stupid it were that there wasn't no cool movies out when she halted at her new destination.

108 Mifflin.

Well she did think what her heart desired and it seemed that this was it. She should just walk away and head somewhere else but it was like her body was on autopilot. She used whatever past burglars use to break into places with and made way in the previous Mayor's house. The only person who had keys to the place was her son. He didn't say that she was allowed to enter his mother's home. 'But he didn't say that I was not allowed to enter her home.' So… she walked up the stairs and perspired slightly that she was doing this again. This time she was going to do something no man has done before. She entered the brunette's room again for the second time less within 24 hours and simply stood there in the middle of the room debating if or if not this was a good idea to start what she so desperately wanted to begin with. She had to pro/con herself.

Pro: I might feel more rested. Con: This is wrong. Pro: I can be the proper sheriff this town needs. Con: This is so wrong. Pro: Fewer cats would be pelted with inanimate objects by me. Con: Why the hell are you still here?! Pro: Let's face it, you haven't been yourself lately and can throw all that other shit out the window. Con: No, no. Pro has a point.

Peeling off her skintight jeans and throwing her jacket aside Emma lowered into the Queen's bed and carefully configured her in the middle of it. The duvet was snugged against her torso feeling the satin material feather her bare legs and bring the coolness that belong to it take her. She leant her head deeper into the pillows and moaned at the feeling, but caught herself at that. She was already crossing lines; no need for weird sounds either. She also grabbed a pillow to her right and whiffed in the scent that subsided all this time in it. The only conclusion to come was that it smelled like Her and that was more than enough for the sheriff. She felt content like she never knew in ages and it was startling. Yet fuck it. No level of comfortableness had shown its way in the wasted time of her life, and she more than deserved it. The last thing on her mind as she clutched the pillow of her majesty's close to her chest was those soft brown eyes that she could tell her secrets to and forever feel at peace with.


|-/