Warning for homophobia against the main characters
she followed her and she said, "whatcha looking for?"
-I-
Every morning at 3:30am, Regina's alarm went off. As she had for the last five years, she would turn it off and roll out of bed, ignoring Quixote's protesting groans. Shower, clothing, hair, makeup, breakfast—nothing had changed in her routine in those years. Her mother's death had only altered one thing, and that one thing had taken months to truly manifest.
Regina looked in the mirror and no longer felt the dread of walking out into the world. No more humiliating events at Starbucks. No more devastating phone calls every other night. No more lack of control. What had once been a desperate lie to herself now seemed nothing but a calm truth: "I am more than my mother's daughter."
Little by little, day after day, she began to distance herself from Starbucks. Not in performance—as always, she gave 110%—but in goals. Even when winter came, and Regina got to enjoy the increased traffic of chilled people ever-grateful for what she provided, she maintained a certain distance. Coffee wasn't worth her entire life anymore.
In the evenings, she had been wont to read through her business textbooks as preparation for the desired promotion to district manager. These days, she was more likely to be debating Emma Swan over campaign details. Spring was approaching and everything had to be perfect. Regina paid attention to gossip at the café, and even at the bar on certain nights when she came for a drink or two. People liked Emma but they didn't love her yet. This whole affair kept teetering on the border between unlikely and impossible.
Emma's idealism, however, kept dragging her back in. Regina would get tired, irritated, even despairing about all of it, but later that day or week she'd see Mr. Gold walk down the street with his smugness. That, always, had her back on Emma's side and determined to make that man fail. Now that she had no reason to move out of Winlock, everything he did became personal.
"You are a loyal Winlockian," Emma had said, half joking, when Regina ranted for five minutes about the number of small businesses on the verge of collapse because of his machinations.
Regina put her hands on the hips, breathing roughly through her nose. "Oh really. You need to be a loyal Winlockian to hate a slimy, worthless bag of meat?"
Emma conceded the point, but Regina silently conceded Emma's as well..
The two of them, with help from Emma's other friends, constructed their little world of hope for change until even Regina caught herself believing it. Deep down, she'd discovered, Emma wasn't the annoying hippie she'd presented herself as in the beginning. She was annoying, and she was a hippie, but that was something else altogether. She had good intentions and wasn't afraid of follow-through.
"I'm guessing you grew up on Disney movies and other such fare," Regina had said dryly, after Emma finished a speech that was practically peppered with references to capital-g Good and capital-e Evil.
"I wasn't allowed to watch movies." Emma paused for a second, a strange look in her eyes. "Or read fiction, actually. That was all part of my rebellious stage."
"Rebellious?" Considering that she was only here to prove a point to her parents, Regina hadn't pegged Emma as a wild child. Her only mental image of Mr. and Mrs. Swan was of older, more annoying versions of Emma herself.
Emma, though, let out a long breath. "My parents wanted me to be an academic. To have credentials. I think they'd been planning how to raise the perfect child since before I was born, and I got fostered with them when I was 10. They were intense about it. So even though high school sucked and I barely graduated, they sent me to college. I was terrible at it but when I told them that, they just kept encouraging me to work harder. I burned out, dropped out, and had a couple years of doing everything I wasn't supposed to do." She paused, cheeks a little red. "I did a lot of stupid things. But I also devoured all the pop culture they didn't let me have as a kid. That's not why I care about this stuff, though. I think they meant well, when they taught me about making a difference."
"You're more forgiving than I," Regina said after a moment, with more feeling than she intended. "I don't care if people 'mean well'."
"That's a lie, or else you would still hate me," Emma pointed out.
Regina only rolled her eyes. She and Emma clashed on several personality points, but they were more alike than Regina had ever cared to admit before. They could talk about things and they could also listen.
The optimism only lasted so long, however.
One blustery March evening, Regina suffered through delivery pizza at Emma's house so that they could finalize the paperwork needed for Emma to get her name on the ballot. Gumby sprawled on his blanket in front of the TV, the only one watching the talking heads on the news, and Regina sorted documents into file folders. Emma ate pizza and frowned at her laptop screen, trying for the fifth time to understand the legalese of election procedure.
Then a voice emanated from the TV set that made Regina's skin crawl. Both women looked up to see him being interviewed with his hair pulled back out of his face for once—it didn't make him look any more respectable, but Regina was no fool. He had influence beyond financial.
The interview appeared to be political, talking about chances in the new year and what might happen at the Egg Festival. Then, as if by magic, the topic became uncomfortably close to home. "You seem pretty confident in Mayor Thicke's tenure," the interviewer began, "but there's talk around town that maybe he's held the position too long."
Gold scoffed, gently, as if it was the least interesting thing he'd heard in a while. "Mayor Thicke isn't a perfect man—none of us are—but he's proven his capability for the past twelve years. If he hadn't, why would we have re-elected him twice? People will always talk the talk, but our mayor has walked the walk. If you're referring to Emma Swan and her none-too-subtle hints at running for his position, well, I think maybe you're paying too much attention to hype. Winlock doesn't need the person at the top to be a young lesbian with no sense of the political reality here. Everyone will figure that out before election season, I assure you."
The camera cut away, but Emma still stared at the screen.
Regina cocked her head, unsure of what she'd just heard. Something seemed off, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Motherfucker," Emma breathed out, voice shaky. "Mother. Fucker."
"We expected something like this," Regina said, trying to sound reassuring. "We'll just—"
"No, I didn't. I didn't expect this." Emma whirled towards her. "Did you? Did you know I was gay?"
Oh. That was what she'd missed. How, she wasn't sure, but that part of the speech had gone right over her head. "No, I didn't." But it obviously wasn't much of a surprise either.
Emma slammed her laptop shut, lips pressed tight together until they went bloodless.
Of all the conversations Regina expected to have, this had never appeared on the list. Brow furrowed, she grasped at words. There were none. What to say, how to say it, she just didn't know.
Emma broke the silence finally, sounding almost on the verge of tears. "No one was supposed to know. I didn't want to deal with that. I know how small towns are. I know that people here are kind of old-fashioned. It's one thing for Mulan and Aurora, it's another for...mayor." She flailed her hands about, still not looking at Regina. "I might be able to charm people, but I can't kill this kind of prejudice. Not in six months. And he knew it. I don't know how he found out, but I should have guessed. You told me he was ruthless." With a despairing sound, she covered her face with both hands.
Regina's anger burned. "It's inappropriate is what it is. We can fight it on that point." The words sounded idiotic as soon as they left her mouth. Emma was right. This wasn't something you could spin, not in a town like Winlock. The campaign had been on shaky ground already, what with Emma's newness in town, newness to politics, and of course her youth. This was a shattering blow, however unfair it was. "I'm sorry, Emma."
Emma bristled, voice half choked. "You know, I don't need pity from the straight girl right now."
Regina sat upright, stung. "I'm not—" While a reasonable assumption, it hurt like it had always hurt to receive it. More than it hurt that Emma was lashing out at her. "I'm not offering you my pity, I'm just sorry." Then, because it was Emma, she bit out, "And I'm not straight. I'm bisexual."
For a moment, Emma stayed silent. Then, wiping one eye, she looked across at Regina. "I didn't…know."
"No, nobody ever asks." Regina tried to swallow her bitterness. "But the point is, I didn't want this to happen to you. I'm not skilled with words all the time; I was just trying to show sympathy. It's what friends do."
Emma wiped her other eye and exhaled, looking miserable enough that Regina's irritation faded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be bitchy at you, you're just the only one here to be bitchy at. Except for Gumby."
Regina waved a hand. "Apology accepted." She pursed her lips together. "I really am sorry."
"Yeah." Emma flopped her hands over her knees in defeat. "All my chances are shot now. You were right."
"I know it doesn't help, but I take no satisfaction in this." Regina felt her mouth twist. "I didn't want to be right." Though this hurt most for Emma, Regina also felt the blow to her own heart and clenched one hand into a fist. Of the few things that made her happy, this had been primary for the past few weeks. Now it slipped away like sand through fingers.
"It does help a little." Emma ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry for calling you straight. It was dumb."
Regina snorted. "You're the first person to know otherwise. It shouldn't have bothered me so much."
Emma looked at her, a little stubbornness returning to her blue-green eyes. "Uh-uh. It's totally reasonable to be upset. Even if you're closeted. It's part of who you are. It matters."
She shrugged. It had been years since she had even thought about things like this. Singleness was more than what Cora had demanded, it was what felt normal. Regina had carefully made herself forget what it had been like with Daniel. How smoothly they'd gone from her helping him with essays to him helping her out of her clothes. It had hurt too badly. And she'd watched dozens of more breakups in the years since, enough to know that she didn't want one ever again. Sexuality was something she'd given up on.
Which seemed to be something she and Emma shared in common, since the woman hadn't even considered being outed. But she was right. It did matter, a little.
With no more to say, Emma started gathering up all the paperwork on the table. Regina, feeling a knife-twisting regret for all their grand plans, joined in. It all felt cruel. So much work, so little result, for so little reason. Right now Mr. Gold could challenge Cora in Regina's heart for most-hated-individual.
Finally, with everything gathered into boxes, Emma sighed. "I need to go to work in half an hour but all I want to do is get drunk."
"I gather I'm supposed to give you permission, but no, you're not allowed to get drunk."
Emma glared at her half-heartedly. "Terrible friend."
Regina smiled, but knew it didn't reach her eyes.
On her way home, after Emma departed for the bar, it hit Regina that this meant back to the drawing board of life goals. Emma had made this so easy, so happy, like nothing had been for years and years. It felt right—so of course it had to fall apart. The prospect of starting over seemed grim.
When she opened her door, Quixote rubbed all over her legs and made a soft mew that was both "I'm glad you're home" and "I'm hungry". Regina let out a sigh. "I could always become a bitter cat lady. You would like that."
Quixote neither confirmed nor denied that.
She poured herself a glass of wine and thought about nothing for some time, only snapping from her reverie when her phone rang. The number wasn't in her phone book and so her heart leapt in her throat for a second. She answered. "This is Regina Mills, to whom am I speaking?"
"Seriously?" Emma's voice came in half muffled by the noise on her end. "You don't have my number in your contacts?"
Regina ground her teeth, only relieved that it wasn't the emergency department again. "I didn't think it necessary. Why are you calling?"
"I was thinking," Emma started.
"Dangerous," Regina retorted, wondering why the woman sounded so much less defeated. It had been all of two hours since her one dream had been crushed. Quixote hopped up on the counter, trying to rub against the phone.
"Haha. So. My chances at mayor are shot, I know that." Emma paused, and Regina could hear the clink of glasses over the phone, as well as the steady beat of bar music. "But here's the thing, I was never the best candidate. Of either of us, it should be you running for mayor."
Regina glanced to Quixote, and wondered if he, too, couldn't believe his ears. "Excuse me?"
"You've lived here your whole life. People know you and they value you. You're not nearly as controversial as me. And you even look like mayor material."
Regina blinked several times. "Have you lost your mind? Gold can bring me down with homophobia just like you."
"Not unless you lied to me about not telling anyone." Emma sounded more certain the longer she spoke. "I don't have a long dating history, but it's there. Probably if you just google my name. I just hoped no one would go looking for it specifically. But you…"
"This is nonsense, Emma." Regina shook her head, even though the other woman wasn't there to see it. "I can't. I have no experience. I didn't even graduate college." Cora's searing lectures range in her ears once again. There had been dozens of them about her reckless, foolish behavior, dropping out just because of heartbreak. Without a degree, what chance did she have? If not for Starbucks, no chance at all. Hard-earned reputation didn't look impressive enough on resume.
"Neither did I, but we both thought there was a chance for me. Please, Regina. I don't want all our hard work to go to waste, and this is perfect. I don't know why I didn't see it before. You'd be a better mayor than me, by far."
It was too ludicrous, too dangerous, for Regina to even consider it. She wasn't impulsive like Emma and after tonight's disaster… "Emma, no. This is your dream, not mine. I don't care enough. I can't risk myself like this."
"Just think about it. Please." Emma sounded pleading.
"Fine. I'll think about it again. If it makes you feel better."
Emma hung up and Regina poured herself another glass of wine. The answer was no. Emma might have to hear it half a dozen times to believe it, but Regina knew she would always say no. She'd find another goal, or no goal at all. Anything less vulnerable than this.
-II-
No one mentioned Mr. Gold or his interview to Emma. Whether that was because none of her friends had seen it, or because they didn't know how to handle it, Emma couldn't be sure. Though considering that she had yet to tell anyone about dropping from the election, Emma didn't blame anyone for their cowardice.
The situation sucked. She endeavored to handle things with hope for the future, running as always far from any failure. This, though, was the straw that broke the camel's back. She only lasted two days before she ended up sobbing over a cocktail glass. She bawled her eyes out, though, and then shoved it behind her. Failure might suck but dwelling on it sucked more. Emma, stubbornly, told herself she was happy and then waited for it to happen. It had worked in her life so far, surely it would work once again.
The bar alone didn't make her happy, but it surrounded her with happy people. And, occasionally, Regina as well. She didn't drink much, so Emma knew why she was there. It felt weird to not hang out anymore even if the election dream was dead, so there was the bar instead.
Emma had three drink orders in her mind, one night, when Aurora came up and called, "Emmmmmma, do you want to come over to our house for a party? Saturday evening. You can open a bit late that night, right?"
"Uh." Emma paused, caught off guard. "I guess, sure?"
"Great!" Aurora grinned, then noticed Regina to her left. "Oh! And Regina, you're invited too. It'll be fun, you guys!"
"Did she just invite me to a party?" Regina asked once Aurora left, one perfectly-maintained eyebrow raised.
"Does that not happen to you?" Emma asked back, half in jest. "I think we should go."
"I don't do parties," Regina said and sipped her bourbon.
Emma wasn't sure why, but Regina's answer disappointed her. She put on her plaintive tone of voice. "Aww, come on. Aurora wants you there, I want you there. Quixote needs a free night to get into mischief on his own."
Regina tipped her head left and then right again. "I'll go, I'll go. Where did you learn how to do that, a six year old?"
Emma laughed and ignored her. The prospect of Regina going, even if not enthusiastically, made the party twice as exciting. Emma liked her friends, but social events were tiring; having Regina for backup would be a relief. Besides, they hadn't spent time together since Gold's preemptive strike. Emma missed it. Around Regina, she didn't feel so unhappy.
Saturday afternoon, Emma dug through her closet and let out half a dozen frustrated groans. Between romantic flowy dresses and bar tops and jeans, she couldn't find anything appropriate for party attire. With one last "Ugh!" she flopped on the bed. Gumby climbed on top of her and licked her face soothingly. Emma frowned, even as the slobber started dripping down her cheek, and reevaluated her wardrobe.
In the end, she went with blood-red leggings and a black spaghetti-strap dress she hadn't worn since college. The look was darker than her usual, especially when she tucked her hair up in a bun. She looked in the mirror and sighed, bemoaning how classy she didn't look. Simply not in her genetic makeup, she decided. Still, she looked nice, and it gave her the confidence boost she needed to not bite her lip awkwardly.
Aurora oohed and aahed when Emma arrived on their doorstep, guiding her inside and pointing her to everyone already gathered. It wasn't a large party, but enough that the apartment felt cozily packed. Since everyone else was talking, Emma headed straight towards the food table. She had a cracker in her hand when she saw Regina wave from across the room, looking almost cute in her knee-length blue dress and curled hair. Emma waved back, ate the cracker, and made her way over.
"Hey there." Emma let out a deep breath, noting that even in heels Regina couldn't look tall.
"Just warning you, they've been talking politics." Regina surreptitiously waved her punch glass towards where Snow, David, and Aurora were conversing animatedly.
Emma sighed. "Great. Just what I need." She'd forgotten until now how parties usually meant talking, not drinking, once everyone was well out of college.
Regina nodded slowly, then shifted from neutral to an odd expression.
"What?" Emma frowned. "Something on my face?"
Regina tapped her fingers on the side of her punch glass and said quietly, "I did some thinking, like I told you I would."
For a second Emma didn't understand. Once she did, her stomach lurched a bit. Happy. I'm happy. It's okay. "Oh really?"
Regina nodded, then let out a short breath. "I thought I didn't care, but I can't get it out of my head. Not just the corruption, the economic collapse, all that. The fact that the current mayor answers to Mr. Gold...that's just unacceptable to me. Especially after what he did to you." Her nostrils flared a bit. "He can't out me like he did you. Probably wouldn't even think to try."
Emma shifted a little closer. "Regina, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I'm done with being cautious." Regina had the hint of a smile on her lips, fire in her eyes. "I want to burn Mr. Gold and his legacy to the ground—but legally. I'm going to run for mayor, and I'm going to win, and then I'm going to drive him out of town."
Emma felt herself grin and impulsively reached for Regina's hand, squeezing it. "That's it, that's the spirit!"
The other woman shook her head. "You're a bad influence, Emma Swan."
"I accept that accusation." Emma couldn't help but laugh, hope soaring back through her like magic. She hadn't even felt this happy when they were campaigning for her. Regina could do this. Regina would do this.
Snow broke away from the other group and walked over. "What's so exciting? Anything new on the political front, Emma?"
"Well…" Emma glanced at Regina, waiting for the other woman's signal. Regina nodded.
"You know we're all still rooting for you, right?" Snow added, concerned affection on her face.
Emma smiled. "And I really appreciate it, I do, but there's something I—we—have decided on."
Snow stared.
Emma glanced back at Regina. Even dressed up for a party, this woman didn't look like a barista. She didn't even look like a district manager. No, Regina was meant for something greater. Emma felt a rush of pride, and gestured for both Regina and Snow to walk over so the others could hear.
"Emma has something to say about the campaign," Snow explained, hushing all other conversation. Then all eyes were on Emma.
Taking a deep breath, Emma nodded. "I'm not running for office anymore. And, before you say anything, it's not all for the reasons you think." She swallowed the tiny lump in her throat, telling herself it didn't hurt. "I'm smart enough to know when I'm out of my depth. And as much as I think I could do good in this town, I think it'd be a mistake to continue going after this election. Especially when there's another option."
Everyone was watching her, even Regina. Confused, disappointed, waiting for more. Emma let out a breath and gestured weakly with her hands. "I'm not running anymore. But the campaign isn't over. Regina's running in my place."
There was a slight gasp from Snow, then silence all around. Aurora's mouth dropped but everyone else seemed too stunned to respond.
Regina looked ready to grimace. "Well, don't all fall over yourselves with joy."
David lost the wide-eyed surprise first. "No, Regina, it's not that. Just...wow."
"Yeah," Snow said. "We had no idea."
"But it works," Aurora said with a cheery uptone. "I can see it really well, actually."
Mulan looked at Regina with near-awe. "Oh yeah. I can see it."
A little smile touched Regina's lips.
"See, see?" Emma laughed a little. "She'll be much better at it than me."
"No offense, Emma, but you're right." Mulan offered, amused.
"It'll be nice to see some new blood in the government," Snow said, putting a hand on Regina's shoulder. "Especially someone we all know and trust."
Regina raised an eyebrow at Emma, but looked pleased nonetheless. "I'm grateful for the support. This won't be an easy campaign, considering who our opposition is."
"Well, we're still on board." David nodded.
"To the very end," Emma confirmed. Hope was back. This time, she would do anything not to lose it.
-III-
Spring arrived and made everything verdant and blooming. Perfectly cheery until the backlash in April of one rainstorm after another. Mud made everyone grumble...and then Main Street flooded. Starbucks was on high enough ground to stay dry, but no one without boots came in.
Yet for once, Regina didn't seem to care. Mulan caught her staring out the window, toes tapping a steady rhythm. "Do you want more responsibility here?" the manager-turned-mayoral-candidate looked around suddenly to say.
Mulan thought for a second. "I'd...have to get Emma to hire someone else at the bar, but yes."
Regina nodded slowly. "I'll need to lower my hours so I can do campaign work during the day. And I'll see if I can get you officially promoted to Shift Manager, so you get the raise as well."
"Thank you." Mulan was flabbergasted, but in the best way.
Regina gave her a pointed look. "That is, if you swear to keep my store running perfectly."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," Mulan said in her most serious tone.
The deal was struck. Mulan's feelings of gratitude nearly overwhelmed her. She went to call Aurora, intending to tell her the good news, but her hand stopped before it could dial. This raise meant more money, therefore more savings. It meant hope for the dojo in the next couple years. But not if Aurora knew about it. That woman and money was like putting water in a leaky bucket. She never meant to spend, but she always did. At heart she was a princess. Mulan's princess, but still.
It would be better for them both if she didn't know. Mulan let out a long sigh, then shook it off. Things had to be this way.
She let herself imagine what it would be like to finally have her dream in her hands. How bright the sun would shine as she left Starbucks for the last time, never to be barista again. It was so easy to picture her students, her lesson plan, the look on her father's face when he came to visit. Winlock be damned, she'd achieve her dreams.
With so few customers, the store was sparkling clean by mid-afternoon when the flooding finally dissipated. Emma showed up lugging her laptop bag and a box of file folders and wearing ridiculous red rubber boots, which Regina did take the time to stare disdainfully at.
"Put the judgment away, Regina. It has no effect on me today." Emma flashed her lopsided grin and plopped herself down at a table. "I splashed in all the puddles here and I don't give a fuck. But I would like my usual, please."
"And you call yourself an adult," Regina said while ringing up the register.
"I do, but isn't this why you're running for mayor now and not me? To give me freedom to—"
"Splash in rain puddles? No, that's not why I'm running for mayor." Regina rolled her eyes so hard, Mulan could almost hear it.
Despite schedules that completely clashed, the two spearheaders of the campaign always seemed to find time to discuss and plan. Mulan stopped being surprised several weeks ago. Now she just watched the banter and marveled at Regina being so...Regina. No more the raging volcano, no more the shattered window, now things had gone full circle and it was like last year all over again. And with Emma, of all people.
It was hard not to watch the two of them together. The majority in Winlock were elderly, and everyone who'd grown up in the town had a sort of sleepy ease about them. Even great people—hell, even people like Mulan herself. Getting excited was a rare occasion and it didn't last long. Except for these two. Emma shone like a star, bright and appealing—Regina was more like the embers of a fire, less flashy but with a heat that made you sweat. Together, sparks flew, slowly igniting Winlock in their path.
And maybe igniting more than that, Mulan couldn't help but think some days. Once Regina joined Emma at her table, they seemed to shift closer and closer together. The passion might nominally be for restoring Winlock to glory, but Mulan's radar pinged louder as the weeks passed. No touching yet, perhaps, but Mulan wouldn't be surprised to start seeing longing looks and eyefucking.
"Don't be silly," Aurora told her, once hearing the suspicion. "Emma's too smart to go after a straight girl."
Mulan shrugged. "It doesn't always work out that nicely. Besides, it's Regina I'm getting vibes from too."
Aurora shook her head. "She dated Daniel, remember? There's no way he was just a beard. She's not gay."
Mulan poked her in the arm. "Excuse me, bisexuals exist."
"I just don't believe it," Aurora said. "They're friends, no more."
Then again, Aurora was the sort of person who called her previous partner Philip her "straight phase", no matter how many times Mulan tried to explain things. Mulan could not put her suspicions to rest. Regina and Emma—she couldn't quite see it yet, but that spark. There was most definitely a spark.
Though with two women so focused on something as impersonal as politics, who was she kidding? These two would be oblivious forever.
-IV-
"Emma." Regina walked out the door, already frazzled, phone pinched between chin and shoulder. "We forgot eggs."
"Oh fuck."
"Brainstorm. Now." Regina ground her teeth, opening the car door and counting all the boxes. Everything else was in place for the Egg Festival. Except, funnily, not even an egg shaped paper weight.
"I have no idea why you people even have an egg festival, how am I supposed to help?"
"We possess the world's largest egg," Regina said, shutting the door of her car harder than required. "How could we not have an egg festival?" She sighed. "Maybe an egg shaped candy bowl? Can you pick that up on your way over?"
"Wow, that sounds a lot better than what I was trying to concoct. Let's just say my idea tried to blend eggs and coffee."
"You are a walking disaster sometimes," Regina said dryly.
"Aww, you too. I'll be there ASAP."
This wasn't the first public outing since Regina turned in the election paperwork. All the speech and debate classes from high school provided her enough material to fill a campaign party with inspiring words. She'd even purchased a slate-gray "power suit", as Emma called such things. But today was an all-day affair and, as the political newcomer, the burden would be precisely on her shoulders. And if she couldn't answer every interrogation on the spot, all day?
No, she wouldn't even contemplate that. She had studied her notes. She would win. Regina parked at the tiny fairgrounds and sent a follow-up text to Emma: Buy lots of candy.
Regina exited the car, loaded all her booth supplies on a small dolly, and smoothed down her skirt. Despite the lumpy grass, she'd worn her smartest heels and gritted her teeth now in preparation for the trek. A group of children wearing pastel egg costumes ran giggling past her, almost making her stumble. She took a deep breath, put her shoulders back and walked, mostly gracefully, to the front desk.
"Regina Mills?" the lady questioned, scanning down her list. "I have your badge, here, but your name isn't on the list of approved booths."
"Check again," Regina said, smiling tightly.
The lady checked a second and then third time. "I'm sorry, there's no record."
Regina placed her hand on the counter and bent in close, holding back her irritation. "I am one of only two candidates for mayor, as I'm sure you well know. I paid for my booth months ago. You will point me in its direction now, and find the relevant paperwork on your own time. I have a busy schedule today."
After a moment, the lady gulped and flipped through her papers. "Let me see here..."
Regina got her booth and her badge and a map of the festival, and walked off with a bit more swagger in her step. Even outside of Starbucks, she could get things done. It was a kind of charisma that had to be doled out in small doses—but it worked when applied.
By the time Emma showed up with an egg bowl and ten pounds of mini-lollipops and Jolly Ranchers, Regina had everything else set up. Emma set everything down and gave the thumbs up sign. "Very smart, Regina. Gray is a great color."
"Yes, I'm aware." Regina appreciated the compliment anyway. "And what is it you're wearing?"
Emma glanced down at her dark jeans and floral top. "I thought you said 'no hippie clothes'."
The woman looked...nice and certainly more political than usual. Regina waved her hand, commenting just for the sake of honest critique. "I expected something business casual."
Emma rolled her eyes. "It's a festival and it's not like I'm your trophy wife on display, I'm not even really connected to you. It's fun!" She stuck her thumbs through her waistband loops.
Regina waved her hand again. "In any case, I need you to be out talking to people. Pamphleting as well, don't forget. People need to know that I'm here in person."
Emma grinned. "Yes'm. I'll do what I can. By the way, though, you should sit down."
Regina frowned. "Why?"
"You're more impressive when you're not displaying just how short you are. In heels." Emma shrugged. "Unless you go for the scary route, in which case height doesn't matter."
Regina scoffed.
Emma lightly touched her elbow. "Also, it might help you relax. Focus on your breathing or something. You're all twitchy."
"My breathing is fine." Regina felt her fingers go all tense, though, and inwardly groaned. "I'm just cautious. Gold hasn't made a move yet, which only means that one is coming."
"Yeah, well, just don't let him sabotage you by making you too nervous to perform." Emma smiled a little, nose scrunching. "You will be amazing. Oh, and offer candy to little kids. It's a good PR move even if they can't vote."
Regina breathed out and put on her professional face. Jitters aside, she had faith in her skills. She was more than worthy of this position. All she had to do was prove it to the average Winlockian, whose standards would be well below her mother's and, well, achievable in general.
Emma offered her hand. Regina shook it, and smiled just as firmly.
"Good luck," Emma said.
Regina nodded. The festival began.
-V-
Today was one of those vegan compromise days. In general, Emma didn't approve of animal treatment in slaughterhouses and the like—she might fail at making the right choice, but her worldview felt much more consistent when she avoided meat and dairy. Even if sometimes it was just long-established parental guilt.
But this was Winlock, home of the World's Largest Chicken Egg, and this was Egg Day. She may have declined last year to even attend, but things had changed. For the sake of the town, Emma would eat eggs served every which way. Especially if there was a deep fried battered option. How could anyone pass that up?
The entire town trickled in as the morning went on. Kids ran around in costumes and face paint, going on egg hunts and partaking in egg tosses and doing that weird race thing with the egg on the spoon. Emma set aside her mission for a few minutes and just enjoyed herself. Her childhood in San Francisco had taught her how to avoid people. City people were always late, grumpy, selfish. She'd developed a hard exterior after being hurt too many times to count, and found that if she pretended she didn't exist then everyone else obliged as well.
Not that Emma didn't want to like other people. Quite the opposite. But foster children learned quickly not to depend on anyone but themselves. Even after her adoption, Emma was kept isolated from 'mainstream' kids, though she still felt embarrassed every time her parents took her to rallies. School difficulties were just the cherry on top. Emma didn't know how to deal with people on a friendly level—not till moving to Winlock.
What had once seemed awkward now felt glorious. Emma liked being liked, and she liked the people who liked her. This town might be backwards and stagnant, for now, but nothing moved too quickly and frowning was a rarity, not the norm.
Emma wasn't sure she ever wanted to leave.
When she stopped by Regina's table a couple hours later, her partner in political crime looked pleased. "How's traffic?" Emma asked.
"I've spoken with over a dozen," Regina said, nearly preening with pride. "Handed out four campaign buttons as well."
"Shook hands? Kissed babies?"
"In a nutshell." Regina had a glow to her that had Emma wondering if she'd just imagined the tension and nerves from this morning.
"I brought you an egg salad sandwich, if you're hungry." Emma held out a plate.
Regina eyed the sandwich. "Egg salad? That's hardly the impression I want to be giving to constituents. Quiche, though, I would appreciate."
"Sounds good." Emma sat down in the extra chair. "I'll have this for my lunch, then. Find quiche later."
They sat together for a while as the crowds grew and grew, filling the small fairground with buzz. Regina glanced over after a moment. "You are overly happy about this scheme, you know."
Caught off guard, Emma spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. "I am?"
"I haven't forgotten what you told me." Regina gestured vaguely. "You wanted to reform Winlock as a demonstration to your parents of...your skill at political change, I believe?"
"Oh that." Emma swallowed, nodding slightly. The thought hadn't escaped her mind, but it was something she had yet to put into words. "I guess… I don't want Winlock to just be an experiment. This is a good place. You and Snow and Mulan and everybody...I want you guys to succeed." She laughed, but it didn't come out as carefree as she had planned. "I'll have to deal with my parent issues in some other way. This is just about Winlock." And you, she almost said, but that would just sound corny. Regina wasn't the kind of friend to appreciate corny comments.
"Well, that I can get behind." Regina nodded slowly, as if thinking about it.
Emma took another bite of her sandwich, then felt a lump rising in her throat. She tried to swallow it back down, but it wouldn't disappear. As a last resort she talked over it, blurting the words out. "And anyway, I'm never going to be as extreme as my parents. I care a lot, but not the same way they do. So probably nothing I do is ever going to make them proud of me. Maybe they'll start talking to me again, but that's the best I'll get. It's okay, though. I'm proud of me. This is a good thing we're doing."
"I agree." Regina almost smiled, or maybe it was a trick of the light in her dark eyes.
Emma swallowed again, and the lump went away. Resolving to not think about her parents again today, she finished the sandwich and carried on with her duties as Regina's ambassador at the festival.
At first, it felt awkward. She stuck to people she already sort of knew, like Ruby and Archie. The words came more naturally after a few tries, though, and she found a nice solid rhythm. Friendly, but not shy. Passionate, but not flighty. Solid, but not stubborn. Mulan came up behind her after she sent her seventh person along with a pamphlet to Regina's booth.
The barista-bartender gave her a mildly surprised eyebrow raise. "If you'd come into Starbucks like this, way back when, you might have succeeded."
"Against Regina? I still doubt that." Emma carried on, but the words stuck with her a few more steps.
She'd learned a lot, even if most had been trial by fire. Her naivete had been a blind spot only just last year, and now she not only knew of its existence but didn't constantly berate herself for it.
Just as her pride was booming, however, everything started tripping up. The first time, she didn't really notice. The second time seemed like coincidence. The third and fourth hit closer and closer to home. By the fifth, this mother not even whispering as she pulled her children out of Emma's way, she felt tired and wanted to go home.
Even throughout most of college, when she'd slept with nearly every gay girl she could find, Emma had never been quite 'out and proud'. She didn't flaunt her business. After college had been a years-long dry spell and that made passing as straight even easier. So did the more hippie look that she'd adopted once the ache in her heart for her family had reached its peak. She just didn't fit the stereotype, so no one gave her a second look.
This treatment, even if it didn't come from people she particularly cared about, made her feel like she was 8 again and being mocked for her grades on the playground. It fueled her hate for Mr. Gold and his underhanded manipulation, but mostly it just hurt.
It wasn't from everyone, to be sure. As Snow had reassured her days ago, the tide was turning even in places like Winlock. Emma smiled and talked to people, and most smiled and talked back as they always had.
Just not everyone.
She was on her way back to report to Regina, and maybe take a break to regain her pep, when she saw Mulan leave the booth and a white-haired lady scoot closer. Emma walked up slowly, but could hear the old woman's words. "You're a sweetheart, dear, and I have to say it'd be nice to see a woman in office after all these years of idiot men. But you hang out with women of...poor character. It doesn't present the best picture to society, you know."
Regina's smile had frozen into place, but she didn't say anything other than, "I see."
The woman left. Emma sat down next to Regina and refused to say a word. She closed her eyes but couldn't close the world out.
"She's not the first, but she's been the first to say it out loud." Regina's words sounded venomous.
Emma rubbed at her eyes. "Maybe she's right. Maybe Mulan and I are just going to hold you down." The sound of the crowd wasn't as exciting anymore.
"I won't accept that." Regina snapped. "That's going too far."
Emma let out a long breath. "Thanks for that."
"Just because I'm staying in the closet doesn't mean it's not my fight," Regina muttered under her breath. "I know the town won't change in a day, but it's infuriating."
Emma opened her eyes and glanced over, surprised to see that Regina looked more worried than angry. Normally, this was the time for Emma to inject a little optimism back into things. Now, though, she wondered if they weren't taking Gold seriously enough. If he ruined Regina's chances too, there was no going back. And it wasn't as though gayness was the only way to bring someone down.
"A few minutes ago," Regina added, lip twitching, "an Egg Day official came by to tell me that I was at the wrong booth."
"Because they fucked up with the booths," Emma defended.
"Yes, and I managed to intimidate him away." Regina's fingers tensed and untensed in her lap, even as she pulled off a smile and a wave at a family walking by. "But not before half a dozen people saw. This isn't going as well as I hoped."
"It's not going terribly either," Emma tried to say with conviction. "Half the lollipops got taken. That's a lot of people who got to see you all decked out as possible-mayor. The stress is only for today."
"And every month from now until November," Regina added.
She was right, Emma knew. But nothing major fell apart during the rest of the afternoon, and they finished the day sipping egg nog and packing up all the campaign supplies. "We did good today," Emma said.
"Only time will tell," Regina corrected.
Emma would not be so easily swayed. By the time she got home and received more than the usual love from Gumby, she had bounced back to her original mood. A little conflict along the way was to be expected. There would be no backing down until Regina sat in that office. Emma wasn't giving up.