Chapter2
Twitching awake, Emma looked around in confusion. She had blacked out, or fallen asleep, she wasn't sure which. Somehow she had crammed herself between the sink and the door, head lulling against the bottom part of the basin. The blonde took several minutes to stand, her body stiff and aching with the effort. A headache was starting to press against the back of her eyes, muffling her senses painfully.
The Sheriff took a few more minutes to rinse out her hair clumsily, blood staining the sink in pink streams. She patted gingerly at her face, skipping over her puffy eyes and split lip. As she patted at her mouth with crumpled paper towels, her tongue stumbled on some strange, gaping hole where a molar should live.
Emma sighed. Maybe Frankenstein doubled up as a dentist.
Opening the cheap tin door, brows knitted in confusion, she blinked into the budding morning. Dread filled her chest; she had been out for hours, passed out while curled up in a filthy public toilet. She tried not to think of what exactly she had been laying in. Looking around, she scampered from the gas station and out towards downtown.
She liked to think that she wasn't slinking so much as crouching with a purpose. Emma made a beeline for Granny's Bed and Breakfast, knowing that various citizens of Storybrooke used the ancient Laundromat behind the old woman's kitchen. A change of clothes was definitely in order, even if they were of the borrowed variety.
Slipping inside with as much stealth as her battered body could manage, she took in the line of washing machines.
A dozen or so children's t-shirts hung from cheap plastic hangers along the duct-taped curtain rail that framed the low row of windows. Emma inched closer as something about them struck her as wrong. Pulling them apart to get a better look, she gazed in confusion at the colorful picture of Voltron plastered across one's chest. While old cartoons were definitely making a comeback, the blonde couldn't remember the ancient Japanese anime resurfacing.
She moved on to the next shirt and was presented with a fantastically pink Jem and the Holograms tee. Emma looked around, taking in the stone washed denim jackets and polos that were a little too brightly colored. She'd need to keep her war-torn jeans by the looks of things. The Sheriff shook her head, chalking it up to someone cleaning out their closet before dropping off the eighties rejects to Good Will.
Tugging on one of the least offensive, and obviously men's, button down shirts, she ditched her ruined shirt and pea coat. Emma rolled up the sleeves to just below her elbows, the baggy material a sharp blue contrast against her skin. Every brush of the well-worn cotton made her overly sensitive skin scream. In a few short minutes, the shirt started to stick to the more gruesome parts of her.
She sighed in mild defeat. She was clean…ish, but her wardrobe wouldn't be able to hide away the worst parts of her hurt. Finding a first aid kit or something similar would need to happen fairly quickly. Exiting the makeshift Laundromat, the Savior tiptoed through the crumbling side street that connected Granny's to the rest of Storybrooke.
Peeking over into the shrub-lined parking lot that separated the diner from Granny's Bed and Breakfast, Emma scanned Main Street before sprinting. It was indelicate and gangly, her body protesting with each stride. Main Street was blissfully devoid of early morning traffic, allowing her unfortunate gallop to go unnoticed.
She paused at one of the benches that ringed the small park outside Town Hall. Sitting heavily, slouching, Emma's head fall back against the painted steel. Exhaustion still clung to her, forcing her to stare out into the street for long minutes in a daze.
The Sheriff froze as an all too familiar Mercedes pulled up along beside her, cruising within inches of her booted feet. She jumped up, pressing her nose into the massive notice board sitting only feet away as she heard a car door slam shut. Keeping her face pointed towards the lost animal flyers, she tracked the dainty figure that had exited the Mayor's silver Merc.
It took the blonde several seconds to gather the courage to turn fully. To look at what could only be Regina.
Somehow.
The Mayor was sauntering down the street, her brunette bob fluttering. Alive and beautiful, the woman walked with a chilly, determined sway of her hips. Emma wanted to race after her, to gather her up in shocked relief. The blonde's knees gave out instead, forcing her to clutch at the leading edge of the message board. Swallowing hard to keep herself from shouting, calling to the brunette, the Sheriff tried to will the vision away.
But she couldn't stop her eyes from lingering, from following the brunette down the deep gray pavement until the Mayor came to a stop in front of…
Graham.
Something in Emma's chest twisted painfully at the sight of him. She had cared for him; he was the first person besides Henry to really have faith in her, to see her potential to be something better. He had given her the opportunity to be a part of Storybrooke, to no longer be the antagonistic stranger. And she had allowed that affection to change, to start on a path towards something more than just friendship.
And just as soon as their romance had started, it had ended with him gasping on the floor of the Sheriff's station, dying as his heart failed them both.
Emma watched as he ducked his head, speaking quietly to Regina as he leaned back against his cruiser. The Mayor's body language was surprisingly stiff, formal even in what should be an unguarded moment. No one bustled about them, not a soul stood within earshot. And yet, Regina looked almost pained to be around him.
Unconsciously, she trailed silently behind them, ghosting their every move on weak feet. He waved amicably to the residents while Regina nodded formally, regally. She watched as his fingers brushed the hem of the Mayor's jacket, as his head continued to dip faintly to speak with her. His desperate attempts at intimacy, and her equally desperate dodges. Looking at them now, Emma wondered how she had ever missed their affair when she had first arrived in Storybrooke.
They stopped at Granny's, Graham gesturing at the sparsely packed diner. Regina looked at him in exasperation and after what seemed like half a lifetime, gave into him. His grateful smile was painful to witness. He held the door open for her, raising his hand to cup the small of her back protectively. She shook it off hard, annoyance marring her hard features.
The lanky blonde stepped in behind them after several long seconds. She tried not to focus on the pair too hard, but tracked them out of the corner of her eye. A newspaper sat rumpled in the booth nearest the double doors. Emma looked around to see if it had an owner before scooping it up and sitting down on the squeaky red pleather.
She flicked through the misplaced sections lazily, attention still focused on the pair, before stopping at the front page. It took several seconds for the newsprint to register. Emma's mouth gaped open with an audio pop, her hands suddenly clutching the flimsy paper far too hard. Her vision had started to narrow on the tiny type and she had the distinct impression that she might faint. Fainting would be a kindness.
She blinked at the date, willing it to change.
April 7, 1984.
The newspaper started to crease, obscuring the date altogether. The last few hours started to click into place with an unpleasant logic. She had been dropped into the very start, the beginning of Storybrooke and the curse. The blonde sagged heavily. Possibilities exploded in her mind's eye. She could somehow break the curse a good twenty-eight years early, find Belle and set her free, find her younger self and save her from the cruelties of the system, anything and everything could be changed.
But in amending that future, she would miss out on the very things she held dearest. Without Neal, there would be no Henry. Without Henry, there would be no way for her to truly break the curse and set her family free. Her son had been her one, and only, source of true love. If Neal had been anything close, their passion for each other would have broken this prison years ago.
Perhaps though, there was another source of love she hadn't thought of until very recently.
Her eyes once more caught the raven-haired beauty that sat quietly in the corner. Sadness tugged at the corners of her mouth, yet her eyes were steely and hard. Even now, Emma could see the differences that Henry had made in the Queen. Olive hinted cheekbones were sharply defined, the jaw hollow and striking, the face too thin. And barely contained rage radiated off her in waves.
Having Henry had always tempered Regina's more self-destructive tendencies. And the Mayor's cruelty. Emma had never realized this until they had taken him away and she had been forced to watch the former Queen start to wither. Had seen the older woman lash out in the old, familiar ways that had defined her reign. But the brunette had been unable to really strike out at those around her, desperate for Henry's approval, and had instead destroyed herself.
And Emma had ached along with her, knowing she and her parents were wrong in taking the boy from his adoptive mother. Snow, the blonde was almost sure, had taken a perverse sort of pleasure in hurting Regina. In taking her child as Emma had been taken from the woman who would become Mary Margaret. The Sheriff had wanted it not to be true, wanted her mother to be above something so cruel and ultimately, so petty.
Now here the blonde sat, watching the Evil Queen and realizing that maybe, just maybe, she could do far more than simply break the curse. Maybe she was meant to be the savior of something else besides Storybrooke. Emma looked down at her hands, lost in thought. Regina had always had the ability and the desire to change, but never the opportunity. Maybe she could change that, if time allowed. Time…
The Sheriff closed her eyes as she rubbed at them wearily. She still wasn't sure what was going on, or if Henry had come through the portal with her. Emma needed answers and ultimately, she needed to get her son back. Or at least get back to him. She was now pressing her fingertips painfully into the corners of her eyes, trying to focus, to keep herself in the present. Not to let her mind wander back, to death…to fire…to Cora…
Emma stood suddenly. Manic, frightened energy taking her out of the diner and once more into the now-filling street. Rumple was the key, he had sent her here and he would know how to send her back.
2-2-2
Emma sauntered in, confidence in every step, the motion trying to draw attention away from her battered face. She kept her hands in her pockets, hiding away her scabbed and scuffed fingers. It hurt to hide them there, the denim tugging at the barely healed skin. Her service revolver dug painfully into her side, its hammer trying to dip between her ribs as it lay nestled inside her shoulder holster. Its weight was an odd comfort.
Gold stood behind the far counter, hands busily cleaning a tea set of all things. One cup was chipped, its gold rim disrupted by a deep divot. He barely glanced up at her, engrossed in the seemingly simple task of cleaning the delicate porcelain. Emma fidgeted a few feet in front of him, mind conjuring up the various ways to start this altogether odd conversation.
She didn't want to come out and ask, knowing that if the curse had taken Rumple as well, her questions would make little to no sense. Henry knowing the truth had almost landed him in an asylum, and she didn't want to spend the next twenty-eight years in a clinical ward.
She cleared her throat noisily before starting, finally forcing the older man's eyes to drift towards her.
"I'm looking for something."
Gold's smile slithered across his features like a snake lazing in the sun. Emma tried to hide the uncomfortable shiver that scurried along her spine.
"Well, as you can see Miss…" He trailed off, gesturing with his cane for her to fill in the gap.
"Swan."
"Miss Swan, as you can see, I have a lot of things to choose from. You need only look around and see if an item takes your interest."
Emma leaned her hip against the counter's glass, trying to muster up her most charming smile.
"I'm looking for something that could be almost…magical."
He smile grew, and she could've sworn his teeth were sharper, pointed. A predator masquerading as something less benign.
"Magic?" Rumple's laugh was rough and smeared in darkness.
She leaned closer, letting her hands slip from her shallow pockets to press against showcase's glass top. They sat there blistered and swollen at the digits. Gold's eyes flittered to them briefly, sensing the magic that had damaged them.
"Yes Rumple, magic."
His smile became tighter, wider.
"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else. A shrink perhaps? Because I'm starting to think you need one dearie."
She gave a half smile, challenging.
"I'll speak with you again Mr. Gold. We'll see what you remember then."
He blinked in confusion, not recalling giving the young woman his name.
The blonde nodded at the pawnshop owner before turning on her heel. She glanced back at the door, her green eyes blazing. They both knew she would be back the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.
One of them would eventually break. It was simply a matter of time.
2-2-2
The Sheriff's station was quiet and dim in the dying evening light. Green eyes scanned the empty windows, barely making out the dated flyers between the blinds. She shuffled closer to the front door, the foot of her boot flipping over the scruffy matt in front of the wrought iron doorframe. A sliver of metal stood out starkly against the pitted sidewalk.
Luckily, Graham's habit of keeping a spare key had started early.
Opening with a drawn out groan, the front door swung forward. Emma slid inside without a backwards glance. She skimmed through the darkness easily, her body remembering the station's layout. Her lean frame dodged desks and filing cabinets alike, her feet shuffling towards the small closet off of the station's lone bathroom. Emma fully intended to steal more than just hot water and toiletries.
After a ludicrously long shower, one followed with her impatiently having to drip dry as it turned out Graham was much better at hiding towels, she once more entered the station's bullpen. Computers were painfully absent; another stark reminder of the decade Emma found herself in. She tiredly scanned the cabinets around her, vainly trying to remember where Graham had kept the hard copies of their police reports.
If a boy had appeared randomly in town, unattended and scared, the paperwork would be here.
It took her hours to comb through the haphazard, physical records. Moving violations, speeding tickets interspersed with the odd domestic battery charge and petty robbery. And strangely, in the midst of all of this mundane tripe, a random drunk driving charge involving a man and his son. No follow up paperwork, no court proceedings. Nothing. Emma pondered over this for a few seconds, shrugging it away as an anomaly.
Hours passed, and not a trace of Henry. Her eyes found the station's solitary lock-up, its plastic wrapped mattress looking a lot like heaven. The blonde made a beeline for the wrought-iron doors. She sat down heavily onto the cheap bunk. Her limbs sagged heavily, exhaustion creeping into every inch of her.
As she curled up under her short-cropped jacket, her phone slid heavily onto the floor. The 'No Signal' icon burned brightly, teasing her with its sudden shortcomings. She tried to push aside her growing sense of bitterness, her growing irritation with constantly having to fight for even the smallest moments of peace. Her title as Savior was starting to chaff.
She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to fall into a dreamless sleep.
2-2-2
The cider burned as it slid easily down her throat. Regina sat across from her, beautiful, and falsely serene. She hated seeing the brunette this way; guarded and expressionless. Unlike Emma who sat fidgeting uncomfortably, the brunette was utterly still and controlled. Refined. Swan envied the mask in some ways, knowing her own face wore far too many of her emotions.
Even now, Regina gave away nothing.
Once a week, Emma came calling. Snow had finally stepped down as Mayor, leaving the job once more to the only one in town seemingly capable of running the office. But uneasiness lingered, forcing the town's Sheriff to check in on the former Queen regularly. Both hated the exercise in babysitting.
They had taken to masquerading as though it were nothing more than a social interaction, almost a meeting of friends. Regina would greet her frostily, but with the utmost politeness. Emma would inquire awkwardly as to what the Mayor had been up to. As the season turned cooler, cider had been added to the painfully halting conversation.
Having gone through the motions of civility, they sat in oppressive silence.
"I wonder if this will ever end."
Emma cocked her head curiously, smiling unsurely. "What do you mean?"
The brunette motioned impatiently between them. "This Miss Swan. You and your family's insistence on treating me as less than."
Green eyes blinked in confusion. "Fear lingers longer than anything else." The Sheriff shrugged helplessly. "What do you expect Regina?"
Sadness seeped through the mask. "Nothing I suppose." Regina's eyes closed in a brief moment of defeat. "Nothing at all."
Emma sat in silence, fighting the desire to lean forward and comfort.
"But fear isn't forever." Brown eyes gazed at her quizzically. The blonde shrugged awkwardly again in response. Finally, Emma gave in and reached out to touch the Mayor's hand lightly with nervous fingers.
"Just be patient."
2-2-2
Coffee, strong and fragrant, teased the blonde into waking.
"I have to admit, I've never had someone invite themselves into my jail, but in your case, I won't complain too much."
Emma jerked fully awake, her limbs pin wheeling as she slid form the tiny bunk and face first into the cement cell floor. She picked herself up with a groan, using the jail walls to pull her lean body upright. The blonde gave the dark haired Sheriff a weak smile, knowing her battered appearance wouldn't help with her respectability. She threaded her arm through the wrought iron, leaning, trying not to let her mind drift back to her first days in Storybrooke. Deja vu was starting to make her head hurt.
"Apologies Sheriff, I came to speak with you and found the station empty."
"Looks like you've had a rough night…" He trailed off, handing her a mug of something steaming.
"Had a bit of accident a few days ago." Now that she had given her body a bit of rest, Emma could only imagine how her face had blossomed with bruising.
Graham answered with a crooked smile, his eyes still kind, but unconvinced.
"I'm sure. Now." Sliding forward a chair into the cell with her, he flipped it around to settle his arms against its back. "Want to tell me what brings you to our town? And what you were looking for?" His coffee cup gestured vaguely towards the opened filing cabinets and neatly piled stacks of paper.
"I'm looking for a boy who's gone missing. Eleven years of age, brown hair and eyes, name of Henry. He'll most likely be on his own, maybe even injured and disoriented. He was last seen wearing a black jacket, a dark colored sweatshirt and a ummm…" Her eyes grew momentarily vacant, trying to remember what her son had worn yesterday. Too much had happened, her memories bleeding into one massive wound of thought.
"This boy have a last name?"
Emma's expression turned stubborn. "I've given you enough details for now."
He shrugged nonchalantly in response, taking her unwillingness to share in stride.
"I'll call around, see if anyone's seen him." Graham stood in one smooth motion, draining the last of his coffee. "But after that, we'll talk more about the breaking and entering."
"Why don't we talk about that now Sheriff?"
Graham's face froze, his body stiffening unhappily. Peering around the lanky man, Emma caught sight of Regina balancing primly on the edge of his desk.
The Mayor's expression was uniquely calculating. She removed her leather gloves slowly, assessing the blonde with sharp eyes. Emma was struck at how dangerous this earlier version of the Queen seemed. The damaged soul was hidden behind a wall of savage anger, stripping away the blonde's ability to guess the darker woman's reactions. Breaking eye contact first, the blonde looked away self-consciously.
"Our Sheriff tells me that he found you asleep inside the station, which means you broke in." Dark eyes shifted over to her Huntsman, daring him to contradict her.
Emma's smile was lazy and hoping to be somewhat charming.
"I'm looking for a boy, around eleven?"
The brunette's body became impossibly rigid, her head titling slowly. Her eyes were suddenly full of predatory hatred.
Emma swallowed hard before continuing.
"Name of Henry? Would have wandered into town a day or two ago?"
Regina's smile was slow and hard, showing far too many perfect, and somehow sharp, teeth. The brunette instantly reminding Emma of Gold, worry and a note of fear starting to churn the blonde's stomach.
"I'm afraid not Miss Swan. But I'm sure our Sheriff has already told you this. What makes you think my answer will be any different?"
Taking her time to respnd, Emma's eyes searched the Mayor's face, gauging what her honesty would cost the older woman. She opted for half-truths.
"I've been led to believe that maybe you have a way with kids…that you like to take them in?"
The blonde stopped there, too much history desperate to bubble up to the surface.
"I'm afraid I've never heard of such a boy. There hasn't been a young boy here since, well, for a while."
The brunette finally tilted to look hard at her Huntsman, her voice dropping with command.
"Now Sheriff, it may be time for you to start making those phone calls."
Sliding from the edge of Graham's desk in one smooth motion, Regina glided out of the bullpen. Emma watched as the Mayor sauntered away, pencil skirt hugging her hips in beautifully designed wool. Her calves defined ever so wonderfully by the eighties era Italian pumps. Graham shook his head dejectedly, pulling on his leather jacket as he left the station.
Emma watched him go before trailing after the Mayor, curiosity and a desire to simply be near the brunette dragging her along the empty corridor. But with each passing moment, she continued to catalogue a raft of differences between this Regina and her own. Sherriff Swan also wasn't quite sure when she had started referring to Henry's mother as hers.
A small kitchenette served as the hallway's dead end, the distinct smell of burning coffee dominating the small area. The brunette busied herself for several minutes, her back to the advancing blonde. She turned, two steaming mugs balanced in long, delicate fingers. Emma licked her lips slowly, unsure what was more tempting, the coffee of the Mayor's deliciously long digits.
Regina handed one of the mugs to Emma who tried to push aside the sudden fear that it would be poisoned.
"Why are you here?"
Emma tilted her head, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.
"I don't know what you mean Madam Mayor"
"People don't just wander into our little town, it's a bit hard to come by."
She lifted the steaming cup of coffee to her beautifully plump lips. Emma tracked the movement eagerly.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."
Regina's eyes dilated, darkening dangerously.
"Try me." The Mayor smiled over the coffee mug, the gesture never reaching her deadened gaze.
Emma put down her own cup before striding closer to the smaller woman. Magic didn't exist here, not yet, but she was magic in her own right. Her parents' love for each other had endowed her with natural power, protecting her even from Cora. And now, maybe it could protect her from the Evil Queen.
She brushed her thumb over the back of Regina's knuckles, willing the brunette to feel the magical energy that sparked. But the brunette's reaction was unexpected and violent. The coffee mug dropped with a shattering pop as long fingers closed over Swan's throat. Regina rushed her, slamming the Sheriff's battered body into the cement wall behind them. The Mayor was crowding her, crushing the blonde between her lean frame and the cheaply painted cinder blocks.
But her expression wasn't filled with anger so much as hunger, lusting after the power that thrummed between them. Green eyes widened in sluggish understanding; the Evil Queen had been an addict of sorts, magic her drug of choice. And Emma was filled to the brim with it. If she were honest with herself, the blonde would admit that there were far worse things in life than to be taken by the Evil Queen.
The Mayor licked her lips slowly, taking in the exposed neck and collarbone of the blonde pinned beneath her. Her pupils were too large, riveted at the hollow of Emma's throat, mesmerized by the flutter of the pale woman's heartbeat.
"Take it."
It took several seconds for the Queen to blink almost sleepily at the woman before her. Dark, blood red lips parted slowly into a shadowed smile.
"Take what dear?"
"My heart. Isn't that what you want?"
The Mayor's smile somehow grew larger, wider. Her eyes were black, the pupils decimated by need.
"Don't mind if I do."
Regina's hands were brutally fast, tearing apart the cheap tee shirt that stood between greedy fingers and beautifully pale skin. The blonde's bra was brushed aside roughly, thoughtlessly, as the Evil Queen plunged inside. Emma's heart quivered as slim hands fanned around it.
Emma had always assumed that this act between her and Regina, her Regina, would be romantic in its own way. That the once Evil Queen would be gentle somehow, loving in whatever passed as affection for the dark woman. This was neither, but the blonde welcomed the invasion anyway.
The Queen's victorious smile faltered. Warmth spread thickly from her outstretched hands, streaming towards her own damaged and blackened heart. Panic filled the brunette's face as she tried to tug herself free, to squirm away from the growing sense of white magic. But not before Emma clamped down on Armani wrapped forearms.
"Not just yet, Your Majesty."
Emma swallowed thickly; the sensation of Regina's ungentle hands buried wrist-deep in her chest was hellish. But this was an opportunity for her to show the Mayor she was being true to her word, that what she was about to say held no half-truths, or falsehoods.
"I need you to help me."
A beautifully scarred lip curled as the brunette snarled in response.
"And why would I do that?"
Emma raised a hand, brushing the back of her fingers over a soft cheek, trying to keep the wince from her own face as Regina's fingers tightened in response.
"Because I know you, the part of you that's hidden."
More warmth spread hungrily up the brunette's fingers, something too akin to love searing her palms. It was beauty and agony all at once.
"Who are you really? Rumple's curse was supposed to be foolproof." Her black eyes slithered away. "He'll pay for his inability to keep his part of the bargain."
Emma smiled sadly. "Me? I'm nobody, and it's all I've ever wanted."
She let go of Regina, letting her hands fall away as the brunette yanked herself free. Emma half expected her hands to come away with a pulsing red chunk of flesh, but instead were empty. The Mayor fled, never once looking back as the blonde let herself slide wearily to the floor. After a few steadying breathes, she felt the past press in…
