The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series
presents
Virtual Season 3
Episode 6
"Just Like Magic"

Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon
Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon
Written By: RebelByrdie
Interim Art Director: Silverbluemoon
Illustrated By: Konako
Direct-to-Media Illustrator: Love-Will-Have-Its-Sacrifices
Edited By: Silverbluemoon

Advisors and Consultants
Characterization: Rushemiiaah
Continuity and Consistency: Asraiaysoph
Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic
General Feedback and Development: Calculaic

This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.
It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.

Publication Date: 10/17/2014

It had seemed like such a good idea only an hour ago. Like most of her "good ideas", though, it had been a head-in-the-clouds fantasy—better on paper than real life. Belle felt wildly out of place in Regina Mill's pristine office. Her pink sundress seemed garish and neon-bright compared to the stark black and white room, even with the smart gray cardigan she'd paired with it. Everything was grandiose and elegant, just like the woman who had ruled their small sea-side world from within it. The still-fresh basket of blood red apples was a stark and menacing reminder that The Evil Queen was only out of the office temporarily. The only other thing besides herself that did not belong in the office was the bean plant. It still flourished quietly in its sealed glass case. The bean plant was trapped and it didn't even realize it; Regina's planter and this office were all it had ever known—a life of captivity—just like hers.

Belle harrumphed loudly to the empty room, planted her elbows on the desk, and set her head in her hands. She was giving up. She was a fool to think she could do this. Manage an entire town?—no scratch that—Rebuild an entire town? Seriously? She could not do this. She had been raised to be a noblewoman, a true lady, not a bureaucrat. Practically speaking, she had spent more time as a prisoner and patient than anything else in her entire life. And wouldn't you know it, they just didn't give "How to Mayor" lessons at the Asylum. She groaned loudly, deeply, her head getting heavier in her hands with every breath. Soon she knew it would crush her arms and then the desk beneath them, and then the earth would swallow her up whole and honestly—what would it matter? She was useless, after all. And they would say at her eulogy, "Here lies Belle, who did nothing in her life except what someone else told her to."

Belle sighed. If Red were here, she'd probably tell her that her pout was adorable but it had to go, that there were things to do. Her head fell further downward as if with the sheer burden of it all, and she moaned. But how, Red? How? After all, she barely knew where the office supplies were kept, let alone how to use the laptop thingy in the middle of the desk—LET ALONE fix everything—and everyone—else that was broken here. Storybrooke was in ruins! People were sick and hurt and the town was a mess. She was not an asset, she decided, but a hindrance to their progress. She should just give up now, let someone who knew what they were doing have the stage. Ruby would be her first choice in fact, she thought. This made her smile a bit and she raised her head, stared out at the room, and pictured Red's red face at the thought of being MAYOR. Ha! That's what you get, Ruby, for razzing me in my own thoughts! She smirked a little at that and sat back. Ruby was an amazing friend, even when she wasn't actually there.

Acting Mayor French took a breath before opening her eyes again and wrinkled her nose at the little silver machine on her desk. She prodded at it vaguely with her index finger, annoyed by its mere presence. It was yet another reminder of what she did not know. Rumpel had tried to explain computers to her a few times, he had even shown her THE INTERNET: a veritable library of information that lived in wires and in the air like magic, but was actually all sorts of complicated. Who was the author of this Internet, anyway? Was it actually a net of some sort? She had heard that there was a book of faces on (or in?) it, too, but wasn't really sure what a book had to do with a face. Was it an enchanted person stuck inside a book, like the genie in the Evil Queen's mirror? Belle frowned. Even if she knew how to use the contraption, she was sure Regina had a password to keep her files secure. Rumpel's had been "Baelfire", but Belle was reasonably sure Regina's password would be something different. All computers would not have the same password, would they? Surely that wouldn't make any sense.

Not terribly surprising, really, but many things in Storybrooke did not yet make sense to Belle. She had been locked away for twenty-eight years in the stale, dim, monotonous world of the Asylum and had only spent a handful of days wandering around free before she'd been shot, pushed over the town line and then turned into Lacey. Lacey, whose cursed memories only included the highlights of 1983 (what a year!), a disturbingly complicated and thorough knowledge of alcoholic beverages, and an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Rock and Roll History. She did not know how to use a computer, but she knew every word of every song Journey had ever performed. Perfect. That should take her far.

Belle had gone through the office a bit on the first day she'd entered, and had been so very happy to find actual paper files. And all in precise alphabetical order by year and subject matter, too! But as she'd begun picking them up at random and perusing their contents, the smile had faded from her face; they still meant so little to her. She'd put them back and returned to Regina's desk (because the desk was, without a doubt, 100% Regina), had sat down and had felt very small, like a child. She remembered how, as a young girl, sitting at her father's desk in his very austere and kingly study, feeling so very small but excited. She had been completely bewildered—a little bit curious, too, but mostly confused—about how someone used the piece of furniture to rule kingdoms. She had gotten up, walked around it a few more times, then sat down again, hoping that would do the trick, that the knowledge would suddenly pour forth from the desk into her mind and she too would know everything about all things Queenly. Of course, it hadn't happened, and when she'd expressed her irritation loudly, her little hands in fists, her father had merely beckoned her to him, held her in his lap and smiled, saying, "All things with time, my dear."

But now it was time, wasn't it, father? And where was the knowledge she needed?

When three sharp raps on the door made her look up, the first words on her tongue were 'Regina isn't here' but stopped herself. Whoever was at the door knew that—everyone knew that.

"Um—" What was she supposed to say? Her throat was suddenly ridiculously dry, and words were difficult. When they finally came, her voice was shrill and brimming with discomfort, "Come in?"

A tall, stately blonde walked in, looking far more confident and comfortable doing so than Belle had. She was dressed in a well-tailored black pants suit and blue silk blouse, her long golden mane pulled up in an elaborate twist—not a single hair out of place. She looked like she could be mayor.

"Mayor French," the woman greeted.

"Your Highn—" Belle cut her words short, "I mean Mrs. Nola—" But Belle stopped again, because that wasn't the woman's name, either.

The visitor smiled, "You can call me Kathryn, Regina did."

Belle found herself blushing and chuckled politely, but it sounded a little off, forced. "Yes, and I need to do exactly as Regina did." The bite in her words was not lost on either of them.

Kathryn walked to the desk, her heels clacking against the marble floor with every self-assured, perfectly refined step. When she grew close, she perched herself nonchalantly on the edge of the desk, as if she'd done so a hundred times before. Perhaps she has, Belle thought. After all, it was beginning to appear as of late that there was much more to Regina Mills than any of them had ever realized (or cared to realize). Honestly, she had been so horrible to all of them, why would any of them have tried to looked deeper, for an actual woman beneath the anger and dark magic? But maybe the Evil Queen had friends now, she thought. How bizarre.

"Well," Kathryn responded, her smile bright, wide, and full of humor, "don't start casting curses or handing out poisoned pastries, of course." She paused and took Belle in. "Regina has done many terrible things to be sure, things that can never be undone." Belle knew that was meant for her. "But there's no denying that as an administrator, she was the very best."

"Well," Belle replied, unable to keep the petulance from her voice, "she had twenty-eight years to figure everything out, didn't she!" Suddenly it all came rushing back to her how hopeless she was, and she groaned. She planted her elbows on the desk once more and cradled her head in her hands. Tears threatened as she croaked out, "I've had a day and a half and zero experience running a city!"

Kathryn chuckled, "While that may be true, we all have to start somewhere." She slid off the desk and sauntered over to a nearby filing cabinet (black oak, of course), and removed a thick, blue binder. She crossed back over to the desk, the picture of elegance and grace, and tilted it so Belle could read the cover.

"In Case of the Death or Impeachment of Regina Mills," Belle read aloud in astonishment.

Below the title, in prim, neat script, someone (most likely Regina herself), had added, "Mayoring for Dummies."

Belle reached for it, overcome with curiosity, and Kathryn passed it over to her, grinning. The binder was full—nix that—absolutely stuffed with of pages upon pages of information: lists, charts, plans, procedures, policies. . . all of the city's functional processes were laid out, and like the paper files, all of it explicitly notated and cross-referenced. There was, apparently, a by-law for everything and by-laws about making by-laws. The small town of Storybrooke had a committee to determine committees. Belle felt panic rising in her chest, tears threatening once more.

"I can't do this," she said simply. She shut the binder and held it back out to Kathryn. "I'm simply not capable."

. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by following/favoriting this story here on ff.n (or subscribing on ao3), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.