A/N: Hello everybody! This is the first story I have ever actually committed to, so please, feel free to leave reviews - constructive criticism is more than welcome: there's always room for improvement! It hasn't been beta'd, so I'm responsible for all mistakes. The point of view will vary from Regina's to Emma's according to the chapter.

The uploads will be weekly and consistent. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 1 – Regina – Cursed

I was laying in bed, my eyes wide open and my mind wide awake – not unlike every other night. I couldn't recall the last time I had been able to fall asleep; I imagined I just wasn't cut out for big cities. When people commonly called New York 'the-city-that-never-sleeps', they couldn't be more literal: cars, people, music – an earsplitting noise that seemed to grow even louder as you tried to rest.

It drove me insane. It filled my head and it never stopped. It led me to throwing objects at walls out of anger and desperation; I would scream as loud as I could, with my face buried deep into a pillow, as an attempt to overpower the noise, but ending up making it even worse.

It was easier during the daytime. I had work and errands to distract me, when the sun was up; I felt normal.

However, I still couldn't fathom why the noise was affecting me so much lately, even though I had been living in New York for as long as I could remember. It almost felt as if New York itself was trying to tell me something; as if it didn't want me to be there. And, to be quite honest, I was beginning to feel like I didn't belong there as well.

I idly glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, entirely out of habit: its red digits had always been stuck on 8:15, and for some reason I had never bothered replacing the clearly-dead batteries. I checked the time on my phone: it was almost half past seven. Time to get up.

And so another plain, uneventful day started, doing the same exact things as always, over and over again.

I wanted to leave. That's what my brain was telling me: I didn't belong in New York anymore, so what better way to change a monotonous routine than to begin another life and completely start over?

But, somehow, I knew I wasn't supposed to leave.

Contradictory, much?, I thought to myself as I got dressed. It seemed as if two opposite parts of me were constantly fighting: my mind was desperately trying to drag me out of that place, and the deepest, most uncontrollable part of me, for whatever reason, was telling me to stay exactly where I was.

With these thoughts running through my mind, I got ready for the day, grabbing a red apple and eating it on my way to work.

"Good morning, Regina. Did you sleep well?" My secretary, Anne, welcomed me with her usual question, inevitably followed by my blunt, "No," as an answer. I grabbed the documents and the macchiato she was handing me and, without another word, I entered my office, closing the door and hoping no one would interrupt me until I was finished with that paperwork.

As an interior designer, I was constantly leafing through apartment pictures and blueprints: I was rather successful, therefore many people requested my consultancy, and since I was – you know – only human and couldn't accept all of their offers, I had to select the ones I found most interesting and then establish a date with the clients to actually visit the space and hear their suggestions and desires. Unfortunately, I didn't have any appointment that afternoon; how was I going to keep my mind off of my insanity?

I sat at my desk and started skimming the diagrams Anne had just given me, taking a sip of my drink every once in a while.

One of the files immediately caught my attention: it was a pretty normal apartment, much like those industrial lofts college students would usually rent, but somehow I felt like I had already seen it before. Even the name of the client, written in the bottom-right corner of the page – a certain Mary Margaret Blanchard – seemed familiar. I had probably already selected it a few days earlier, and Anne had mistakenly put it between the new maps. Why I hadn't fired her yet, I still didn't know…

I let out an angry sigh and quickly grabbed my office phone. Anne didn't answer my call, which frustrated me even more, so I left my seat and peeked out of my office door, looking for her – only to realize she was nowhere to be seen.

"Has someone seen Anne?" I shouted at the people wandering around the hallway. Some of them let out a small, shaky, "No," whilst a few just shook their head without even daring to look at me in the eyes. Was I actually that intimidating? Good.

My impatience was growing bigger every second. Where the hell was she?! I looked for her in the restroom, the kitchen and the printing room, eventually ending up scanning the entire building, but to no avail.

Resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to find her any time soon, I went back to my office, determined to fire her as soon as she would be back – but the moment I opened the door, I froze.

I looked around, searching for someone who could have broken into my office while I was gone, but whoever it was, they had fled.

My desk was always meticulously tidy; the only things onto it were a computer, my office phone and, occasionally, the paperwork I needed to flick through. Therefore, someone must have been there during the ten minutes I was gone, because that damn crystal swan that was now right on top of my keyboard surely didn't get there by itself.

As I carefully took a seat at my desk, my heart was racing and my mind was working fast, trying to find a reason why anyone would ever want to leave such a peculiar object in my office. I had many hypothesis, one less probable than the other. Trying not to think too much of it, I finished studying the maps and decided to call that Mary Margaret person to fix an appointment.

"Hello?" a sweet voice answered. I didn't like her already.

"Hello, is this Miss Blanchard? My name is…"

"Regina?" she interrupted me.

I tensed up. How did she know who I was? I heard muffled voices and chairs being moved in the background, coming from the other side of the phone.

"I- sorry, my… my dog, Regina, was… misbehaving…" she stuttered. So it wasn't me, she was talking about… Of course. I guess the recent break-in was making me paranoid. I immediately relaxed. "You were saying?"

"Yes, this is Regina Mills from Magic & More Designs. I was told you requested my collaboration as an interior designer for your apartment, is that correct?"

"What…? I didn't… I mean… Yes, sure, I did do that. When- when would you like to come visit the place?" she asked. I thought something was unusually sketchy, but once again, I blamed it on my nerves.

"Tomorrow would be perfect," I said, checking my schedule in the meantime, "but I can make it this afternoon as well – would that be a problem?"

"A problem? Oh, no, today's perfect! I- I live in a very small town in Maine, though, it's not even marked on street maps, so I'll send my daughter to come and pick you up – if that's okay, of course," she exclaimed, and she was talking so fast that I could barely make out her words. I found it quite curious that she was old enough to have a grown-up daughter: I had imagined Miss Blanchard to be rather young, judging by her voice.

"I'm sure I can find your town by myself, Miss Blanchard – I don't want to trouble you. Now, what is it called?" I inquired, before hearing a door shut from the other side of the phone.

"I'm sorry, my daughter is already on her way. She should be there around four PM, so I guess I will see you tonight. You'll recognize her by the yellow bug she drives."

"Wait-" I started, but she had already hung up on me. Well, that was polite, I thought, sarcastically. Who drives a yellow bug, anyway?

I went on with my work as I waited for that girl to give me a lift to Miss Blanchard's. I also tried to contact Anne a few more times, without any success; not having enough time to go and grab some lunch by myself, I decided an energy bar from the vending machine in the hallway would do.

To be frank, I should have been much more worried about getting in a car with a stranger, but I felt fairly confident; I could look after myself. Besides, I had to be in the car with that girl only for… wait a minute… a trip from New York to Maine could take up to seven hours. And if Miss Blanchard's daughter and I were to leave around four, it would mean that we'd get there at about…

"Eleven?!" I accidentally shouted, not meaning to talk out loud.

"Everything okay, Regina?" My bald, wrinkly boss peeked into my office, having heard my exclamation.

"Yes, everything is fine, Mr. Dawson, I was just… dumbfounded by the amount of calories this chocolate bar has…" And the award for the worst excuse in the world goes to…

I metaphorically crossed my fingers, hoping my boss wouldn't be knowledgeable about how calories worked.

"Oh, you sound just like my wife!" he exclaimed with a throaty chortle, and I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Trying not to look disgusted at the thought of being Mr. Dawson's wife, I listened as he continued. "She's obsessed with staying fit! So, do you have any meetings with clients today?"

"Actually, just one," I replied. "The apartment my client wants me to decorate is in Maine, so I'm going to leave in a few hours and I suppose I will be back by tomorrow evening." I still was uneasy in regards of the late hour I would be arriving at the place, and the fact that I had practically been forced into the road trip that would cause such delay surely wasn't helping.

I actually didn't owe my boss any explanation: my job regularly required me to leave for a variable amount of time, for there was a large variety of people from all over the United States who requested my consultation. However, I assumed it would have been only appropriate to inform him.

"That is fine, Regina, you know I don't have any problem with that."

"Sir, I was wondering… Do you happen to know where Anne, my assistant, is?" I definitely chose the most unreliable girl in the world. Next time I'll make a wiser choice…

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't know that. If you're not back by the time she returns, I'll give you a call and let you know…"

"Don't bother" I ordered, roughly. "Just fire her. She disappeared without a word, and gods know where she's gone. I don't need any irresponsible employees in my staff."

Mr. Dawson cackled.

"This is what I like about you! You're bossy and heartless, in the most positive way possible! That's exactly why you'll take my place when I'll retire."

"And I'm honored you have such high an opinion of me, sir." I glanced at the wall clock on my right. "I'm leaving in an hour; if it's not a problem, I would like to go home and pack, now."

After leaving my office, I wondered how Miss Blanchard's daughter was going to find me. She had probably searched Magic & More Designs's address on the internet, so I decided to return there after I was done packing.

Once I had arrived home, I pulled out the smallest of my suitcases and prepared some of the most essential things I would need; I was done pretty early, however, and in order to kill time I decided to take a better look at the crystal swan that I had found in my office. I couldn't tell you why I didn't simply throw it in the garbage. I guess it had aroused my curiosity. As I observed it, I noticed it didn't have any engravings or distinguishing marks that would give me a clue as to who had left it on my desk or where it was from. However – and that was the most unsettling part – it did look and feel like actual crystal, and not just a low quality material. It was clear, but when the light hit it at a certain angle, you could see a green hue that made the piece of jewelry even more intriguing.

Perhaps one of my colleagues had feelings for me? Impossible – I hated all of them, and everyone was aware of that. I always made sure no one would feel anything but fear towards me. After a few moments of indecision, I decided to throw it in my handbag. It couldn't hurt to keep it, now, could it?

I arrived at the Magic & More Designs establishment at exactly four o' clock. I looked around in the parking lot, but I knew there wouldn't be any yellow bugs there – it was for staff only.

Exiting the lot, I turned the corner and there it was, right in front of me, in all its decadent glory. A blonde in a tasteless red leather jacket was leaning onto it, arms crossed and a small smile on her face that grew a bit wider as I got closer.

"You must be Miss Blanchard's daughter. My name's Regina Mills, nice to meet you."

She shook my hand firmly, and I could've sworn I felt something – much like a spark, yet not quite. It was familiar, mysterious, primordial… I was going crazy.

"I'm Emma," she replied. Her eyes were of a deep shade of green that reminded me of something, although I couldn't quite put my finger on what that exactly was. "Emma Swan."