AN: Finally! My beta have been really busy and this was a challenging chapter for me, so I really wanted her to approve before I posted it. I have more chapters in editing-stage so hopefully it won't take this long until next update :)


A Pug for a Bug

There was no way I would let my carelessness ruin this opportunity. From now on I would always look where I was going, pay close attention to traffic signs, and not hurry as much. It was going to be difficult, I knew that for sure, but I needed a job and this was my first chance in months to get one. On the way home to my apartment with the accident fresh in my memory though, it wasn't hard at all to live up to my new standards. I was pretty anxious to make another mistake or drive into somebody else. Also, my Beetle probably couldn't take any more impact to the front without the important stuff getting damaged. Poor Bug. Or should I say pug, since it now looked like someone had punched it in the face?

Luckily the mayor's office wasn't far from my place and I could walk there in less than 20 minutes, even if I walked slowly. It was a great thing, not only because my car looked like a sad mess but also cause gas cost money and I was trying to minimize my expenses. I had been told to be there at ten o'clock and that the chief of staff would show me around and get me started.

Since my new self wasn't supposed to hurry – and I couldn't under any circumstances be late – I left home a good half hour before my meeting. Arriving ten minutes early I decided to spend some time to thoroughly examine my new work place from the outside before I entered. Unsurprisingly it looked just like your typical multi-floor office building. After going inside I discovered that the lobby didn't hold any surprises either, except perhaps some odd art hanging on the left wall. While looking around I casually approached the receptionist. She looked up and greeted me with a polite smile.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

"Hi, um, I'm supposed to meet Mr Humbert here in five minutes," I explained with uncertainty, crossing my fingers and hoping I had gotten the name, time and date right.

"Let me see..." she said and turned to her computer screen, making a few clicks. "Are you Emma Swan?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"ID, please."

Right, I hadn't thought that far ahead. It took me a moment to find my purse and I struggled to get my driver's license out. With an apologetic smile I handed over the card. The receptionist took a close look at it, glanced up at me once, and then gave it back.

"Thank you, Miss Swan. Mr Humbert will be down shortly," she informed me with yet another polite smile. "Please sit down, if you like."

"Okay, thanks," I said with a nod and walked over to one of the chairs placed against the left wall.

I took a moment to study the framed art there before I sat down. Most of the pictures where black and white and either very stylish or totally messy. Abstract, I thought to myself. There was one that stood out though, a dark painting I was pretty sure depicted a tree. What distinguished it was that its fruit was blood red. Only it wasn't really fruit, it was – dare I say human – hearts. Quite morbid, and not the kind of thing you normally found in a waiting room. I sat down and looked at the opposite wall. It was filled with old photos, most of them in black and white as well. Storybrooke back in the good old days I presumed, recognizing a few landmarks. Impatiently tapping my fingers against my thigh, I waited. Patience had never been my strong suit.

A quarter past ten the guy finally showed up, his messy brown hairstyle clashing quite a bit with his tidy stubble and spotless grey tuxedo. I immediately stood and he walked over to me with hurried strides.

"Hi!" he greeted and extended his hand, ocean blue eyes looking straight into mine. "Graham Humbert."

I shook his hand firmly, holding his gaze.

"Emma Swan."

"I'm sorry you had to wait, something urgent came up," he apologized. "As it usually does around here," he added with a meaningful look.

"No problem," I said with a reassuring smile, curiously thinking about what that 'urgent thing' might have been.

The man told me to follow him and turned back where he had come from. We walked past the reception desk and made a turn to the left, facing two modern looking elevators. My new boss pressed the button that would call them to our floor and one of them opened immediately. I stepped into the car – which wasn't overly spacious but not small either – and the blue-eyed man followed. I glanced over at him, noticing which floor he requested. Four.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he said as the automatic doors closed, and it wasn't a question. "First, you'll need to fill out a few forms at my office, then I'll give you the tour."

Fill out forms, oh how I didn't like the sound of that. But it was for the sake of my economy and it would without question be much less tiring than the job itself. Scrub toilets... I groaned inwardly. The only thing that would make this job worth the effort - except the money of course, not that I expected the salary to be in any way spectacular – was if I happened to have fun coworkers. Considering who ruled this place I had my doubts.

Speaking of the mayor, I was rather worried I would have another impetuous encounter with her. Now that we worked in the same building and all the risk was in fact greater than ever. I wanted to prove that I wasn't the foolish, hopeless klutz I had given her reason to believe and if I continued to act like one it would be extremely difficult – if not impossible – to change her view of me. It had nothing to do with her perfect hair or captivating eyes or anything else her, I just couldn't stand that someone had the absolute wrong picture of me. She was nice to look at – I'd give her that – but that was pretty much the only nice thing I'd noticed about her so far. Then of course, I didn't know her very well. First impressions did go both ways and everyone deserved a second chance, not only me.


I was exhausted. My shoulders hurt. My back hurt. I swore to God that if my second week was going to be as bad as my first one, he might as well kill me now and spare me the pain of another day in hell. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating just a teeny tiny bit. It wasn't that bad. I was just tired, walking home after a tough first week. It had been so much more hard work than I had imagined. For some reason – most likely cause my partner, Ashley, was pregnant – I had been asked to do all the heavy stuff and though I was proud to call myself fit I just wasn't used to this kind of workload. In my world, part-time meant part-time. I hadn't been prepared for all those extra hours but of course I had had to say yes. More money for me.

So far I hadn't been working any shifts on my own, I'd always been accompanied by at least one other cleaner. Usually Ashley, the pregnant girl. It was reassuring since they had strict cleaning routines and whenever I felt unsure about anything I could just ask and then get it done correctly. We usually started at the top, where the mayor had her office, finishing each floor completely before we continued. Since the first shift started at six in the morning – yeah, six! – I was never at the fifth floor when the mayor arrived, which was usually at eight or nine. I had only spotted her twice this whole week and was both relieved and disappointed. But I enjoyed the peace.

It didn't last long though. When I got home this Friday afternoon I found the bill from a certain Marine Garage in my mail. My first reaction was to rip it apart and toss it in the trash but instead I took a deep breath, and called my mom. I wasn't getting any money until the end of the month and the mayor had made it clear she didn't want any trouble. I'd better pay as fast as I could.

"Hi dear, how are you doing? I've not heard from you this week, is everything alright?"

I hadn't missed my overbearing mother, not even a little bit, but I figured I'd rather have her care too much than not at all.

"Hi, Mom," I answered. "I'm fine really, just a little tired. I've gotten a job!"

The good news got my mom overly excited – no surprise there – and she invited me over for the weekend. I figured I would rather have the money talk face to face with her and Dad, and accepted. It would also be nice to have some decent food after this latest week on sandwich diet. I really had to bring better lunch next week.

"You have to tell me everything!" Mom chirped on the phone.

"Tomorrow, Mom," I ensured her. "Tomorrow."

She seemed content with that and I ended the conversation, promising her to arrive at noon. It took about two hours to drive-

"Crap!" I exclaimed.

My parents lived in Waterville and I needed my car to get there. The car they had given me for my 16th birthday, the car that faithfully had taken me many many miles without complaining or breaking down, the car that I had crashed into the mayor's no less than five days ago. I wasn't scared to drive again but the fact that I would have to tell my parents about the accident bothered me. I felt so stupid, and guilty. Also, it was pretty embarrassing to drive around in a wrecked car. It functioned perfectly and I had just had to change the left headlight bulb, but still. At least I could hope that my parents would find the pug joke funny.


They didn't find it particularly funny. Perhaps cause they weren't familiar with the breed and I had to explain it to them. Luckily they were too excited about my recent employment to dwell over the damaged car for longer than a few minutes.

"So, this job of yours. What do you do exactly?" my dad asked as we walked inside.

"Well," I answered reluctantly. "I clean...offices..."

"You don't work at the office then, like, the way you're supposed to do?"

"No, Dad," I sighed and went into the kitchen, my parents in tow. "I just clean them so other people can work there."

The table was already set and I claimed my usual spot next to the window, letting my parents digest the brutally honest answer. Dad sat down across from me while Mom checked on the food. They were old-fashioned like that.

"I see," he said, not doing much to hide his disapproval.

"Oh come on, David," my mom scolded. "It's not easy to get a job these days, we all have to take what we can get."

I gave her a thankful smile.

"I know," my dad reluctantly had to admit. "It's just that I don't like to see my daughter's talent go to such waste. What's it worth being a certified paralegal when you work as a cleaning lady?"

"I dunno, life is unfair?" I guessed with a shrug. "But if it makes it any less disappointing to you it's at least a fancy office."

Both my parents raised their brows.

"Such as?"

"The mayor's," I revealed with an amused grin.

"The mayor's?"

To me it wasn't that big of a deal – I didn't care much for titles and Storybrooke was a rather small town – but apparently it impressed my mom.

"How did you get that job exactly?"

"Mom, it's not like I work for the Queen..."

"No, I know. But still!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. But how I got the job did make a good story, I had to admit that.

"You remember I told you I drove into someone with my pug?"

Mom looked confused for a moment but then seemed to recall the new nickname for my car. I continued.

"Well, that someone was the mayor. In her Mercedes-Bentz."

Mom looked a bit pale and I tried to keep a straight face, although I just couldn't help but to chuckle at the memory. Crazy day, that.

"This is not funny, Emma," my mom lectured.

"Oh please, she probably deserved it anyway. She's a total bitch."

"Emma!" my mom gasped.

Both my parents looked rather shocked and Mom even looked angry. I knew I had passed the limit of what she would tolerate and decided to lay off a bit.

"Fact is, she's not a very nice person. However, what happened was an accident and I've vowed to be more careful. Satisfied?"

Mom still looked displeased but not as much as she had done before.

"Well, we've seen your car but what about hers?" Dad asked tentatively.

"Barely scratched," I huffed. "But she got really mad and demanded that I'd pay. That's the reason she hired me, so I could pay the repair shop. Unfortunately I won't get any money until the end of the month so I was hoping you could lend me some. You know, just until I get my salary. I'll pay you back in no time."

"I believe we don't have much of a choice, do we? She doesn't seem like the person you would want to get in trouble with."

"Your conclusion is accurate," I agreed.

I was at least grateful that she hadn't pressed charges. Somehow I got the feeling that it wouldn't have been a pleasant experience. For anyone.

Something that was a pleasant experience was tasting my mother's fish soup and she beamed at me when I let her know, seemingly having forgiven my earlier disagreeable attitude toward the mayor and the accident. The dish was truly delicious and I realized how much I had missed my mother's cooking. Well, not justher cooking, but you know... Phones were great for talking but not so much for transferring food, and I hadn't visited my parents since I moved into my apartment in Storybrooke.

Conversation died out as we all – well not really, my mother had a little more style – shoved spoonfuls of savory soup into our hungry mouths. I think Dad and I reconciled while engaging in our unspoken speed eating contest. We both knew it annoyed my mother to no end and had a fun time watching her shoot admonitory glances at us. There were reasons to eat fast though, aside from being obnoxious and satiating hunger. Someone had mentioned that we were having gooseberry pie for dessert.