Emma had lived through many a shitty day in her time but today? Today was the shitty day to end all shitty days.
Hell, that city council meeting alone would have been enough to leave her craving a beer or two. Regina banning her from seeing Henry after the meeting raised the stakes from beer to hard liquor. Being the one to have to tell Henry that she couldn't see him until Regina deigned to allow a visit? That elevated hard liquor to getting absolutely shitfaced.
Because now it was no longer about winding down with liquid comfort after a cruddy day. Oh, no. A day like this required oblivion.
She'd shared a couple of drinks with Sidney, who then stood up to leave, making noises about having somewhere to be. He promised to get back in touch with Emma once he'd done a little more digging. Emma told him she couldn't wait and then gestured for Ruby to bring her another drink.
She cut herself off after that, not because she was done but because she needed to be sober enough to get back to the apartment. She could continue in the privacy of her own – well, Mary Margaret's – home. The sheriff getting hammered in the diner wouldn't be the best example to set, not to mention that she'd had enough public humiliation for one day.
Emma really could have driven back to the apartment but Storybrooke was small enough that the walk didn't take her much longer than the drive would have. Upon her entrance, Mary Margaret's warm smile of greeting quickly dropped into a frown of concern. "Is everything okay?" she asked as Emma shrugged off her coat.
"Not even close." Emma grabbed a juice glass from the cabinet before taking the whiskey down from the shelf and plopping down at the kitchen table.
Her concern grew as Emma filled the glass almost to the top and left the bottle on the table. "Do you want to talk?"
"Nope." Emma took a sip. The alcohol burned all the way down to her stomach. It felt wonderful. "I just want to forget it for a little while."
"That doesn't sound like the healthiest of options, Emma."
"Don't care."
Mary Margaret looked like she had more to say on the subject but she either thought better of it or realized it would do no good. Instead, she took a seat at the table across from her roommate.
Emma groaned inwardly. Why the hell couldn't Mary Margaret just let her get drunk in peace?
Not to mention that the longer she sat there, the more likely Emma was to tell her what was going on, just to fill the awkward silence. Forgetting it all for a while would be a lot harder if she had to talk about it.
That tiny little voice pestered Emma again, telling her that Mary Margaret could help. That drinking it away was only a temporary solution that would leave her feeling worse in the morning. That letting it out would be painful upfront but would be better for her in the long run.
Another gulp of whiskey shut the stupid thing right up.
Or so Emma thought. A few seconds later, it was back to nag at her. Mary Margaret sitting there with her nagged at her, too. Not that Mary Margaret was being a nag. As a matter of fact, she was being the exact opposite. All she was doing was waiting patiently in case Emma decided to talk instead of drink.
Well, she could sit there all night, because Emma had no desire or will to talk. Which was why she was shocked when she heard herself say, "So, turns out Regina didn't take the money for herself. She took it to design and build a new playground."
"Oh, Emma." Mary Margaret's voice was filled with sympathy, and Emma wasn't quite sure whether she was comforted or annoyed. She didn't want sympathy. She wanted righteous anger. Luckily, Mary Margaret wasn't done. "But she still took the money, right? It's still embezzlement."
"It doesn't matter," Emma grumbled. "I didn't put together that paper trail in the most legal of ways. I came off looking like a vindictive bitch who simply wanted to ruin her in any way I could, and she came off looking like a saint who just wanted to keep Storybrooke's children safe. And if that wasn't bad enough, after the meeting she banned me from seeing Henry. Until further notice, which, knowing her, means until he's seventy."
The expression on Mary Margaret's face was so kind and gentle that Emma felt herself relaxing. "No wonder you wanted to drink."
"Oh, I haven't even told you the worst part." She glanced down and discovered with surprise that her glass was half-empty. When the hell had that happened? She gave a slight shake of her head and looked back up at Mary Margaret. "Guess who had to tell the kid that we couldn't see each other."
"She left it for you to tell him?" Mary Margaret looked scandalized on Emma's behalf, which made Emma want to hug her.
Whoa. Okay, so she wasn't really going to hug Mary Margaret but the alcohol was clearly beginning to work its magic.
"If you could have seen the look on the kid's face …" The memory of Henry's dejected expression filled her mind and before she knew it, another gulp of whiskey was warming her throat. "He looked like I just told him that someone ran over his dog."
"She can't keep the two of you separated forever," Mary Margaret said gently.
"Want to bet?" Emma scowled, leaning back in the chair. "What kills me is, she's not wrong. I screwed up and now Henry has to pay the price for it."
"She is wrong, Emma," Mary Margaret told her. "You may have been wrong about her taking the money for her own purposes but she's using Henry to punish you. That's not fair to you and it's especially not fair to him."
That, Emma realized, was exactly what was making her so upset. By withholding contact, Regina had turned Henry into some kind of prize that could be won or lost. He was a kid, damn it, not an object. A kid with feelings. "Yeah, well, fair or not, she's doing it."
Mary Margaret remained silent as Emma drained her glass. When she went to refill it, Mary Margaret slid the bottle out of her reach. "Hey!" Emma cried, sudden anger darkening her eyes.
Her roommate stood her ground with an adamant shake of her head. "She wants this, Emma. She wants to get under your skin, she wants to upset you, but you know what? She can only make you miserable if you let her."
Though Emma desperately wanted to argue, she found that she couldn't. Her head had begun to spin and her inner voice had started telling her that Mary Margaret was right. That she was giving Regina too much power and that being miserable wouldn't accomplish anything other than, well, making her miserable.
Eventually, she gave Mary Margaret a silent nod and pushed her glass away. The teacher smiled at her before grabbing the glass and taking it over to the sink.
A crackle of static from the walkie-talkie startled both of them. "Come in, Emma." Henry's voice was a harsh whisper, just barely audible over the static.
Emma started to push herself to her feet only to have a head rush force her back into the chair. Damn. A juice glass full of whiskey caught up with her fast.
Mary Margaret's concern was obvious but she wordlessly got up, grabbed the walkie-talkie, and brought it to her roommate. Emma gave her a grateful smile before addressing Henry. "Hey, kid," she replied, keeping her voice quiet. The last thing she needed was Regina to catch them communicating despite the ban.
"I just wanted to say good night," he whispered. "I don't know when we'll get a chance to talk again."
Emma didn't know, either, and it killed her. "I'm glad you got a hold of me tonight. Sleep tight, Henry."
"You too, Emma. G'night."
She set the walkie-talkie down on the table with a pensive frown. He hadn't used radio lingo like he normally did or chided her for her lack of radio lingo. Damn, the poor kid was supremely bummed out.
Truth be told, so was Emma.
Mary Margaret's voice startled Emma back to the present. "You all right?"
"I will be," Emma sighed.
A gentle smile spread across Mary Margaret's lips. "Well, that's wonderful but I meant in the more immediate sense. Do I need to get your pillow and a blanket and set you up on the couch, or–"
"No, I'm okay."
"Really? You want to try standing up again?"
Emma wrinkled her nose at her friend's teasing. She most definitely did not want to try standing up again. "Like I said, I will be."
The indulgent smile on Mary Margaret's face betrayed her resigned sigh. "I'll go get your pillow and blanket."
By the time Emma thought to tell her that getting her stuff wasn't necessary, Mary Margaret was halfway up the stairs. Oh, crap, the stairs. Maybe Mary Margaret going up to get her stuff was necessary after all. Those stairs would be Emma's mortal enemy right about now.
Perhaps mixing alcohols like that was not one of the five best ideas Emma had ever had. The morning was totally going to suck.
Then again, Emma thought as she watched Mary Margaret set up the couch as comfortably as possible for her, maybe it won't be so bad. She already felt a little bit better about the day. Well, not better, exactly, but certainly more able to put it behind her.
The stubborn, independent part of her swore it was the alcohol but her inner voice told her that talking with Mary Margaret had helped far more than the whiskey.
That little voice, Emma decided, was beginning to become a royal pain in the ass. Because like it or not, it had an irritating tendency to be correct.