AN: Chapter sex - not really - six, almost on time! (It's Sunday, three in the morning, here...) I hope you will like this chapter and the title this time is from the song Girls by Beatrice Eli. It's one of the songs I've been using to inspire my version of Emma, and it fitted especially well to this very chapter.


Pictures In My Head

I was still flustered by my regained memories when I stepped into the diner, a jingle announcing my arrival. There was no line so I walked straight up to the counter, recognizing the waitress from earlier visits. She looked about my age, perhaps a bit younger, and what I had noticed about her was that she liked to wear revealing outfits and bold makeup. Today was no exception and – as always – she looked good in it. Finally someone I could check out without betraying my principles.

"Hi, what can I get you?" she greeted, flashing her pearly whites in a welcoming smile.

Your number?

Her smile diminished, replaced by a look of bafflement, and I realized I had vocalized my thought.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, no, I was just...thinking out loud..."

Smooth, Emma, real smooth.

"I mean, I was joking..."

My headache just got even worse.

"I'm sorry, forget all I said," I hurriedly apologized, rubbing my temples with a pained expression on my face.

I needed to stop making a fool out of myself in front of all and everyone, was that really so freaking difficult for me to accomplish?

"Apology accepted..." the waitress replied tentatively with a crooked smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Let's start over," I suggested. "Hi, I'm hungover, and I would please like some waffles and a hot chocolate with whipped cream, please."

Had I just said 'please' twice? Sigh. Oh well, at least no harm done.

"Sure," she smirked and put my order in. "What do you want on your waffles?"

"Whatever you would take," I replied with a shrug, not wanting to bother my mind with yet another decision.

"Alright," she said and stood a little taller, seemingly appreciating to be trusted to choose for me. "Cinnamon on the chocolate?"

"Um, yeah," I said, quite impressed. "You remember that?"

Cause I hadn't. Stupid hangover.

"Course I do! You always want cinnamon on your chocolate."

I smiled appreciatively, cause I hadn't been here that many times and felt genuinely happy that she had paid attention to the small detail.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's fine."

The prices here were fairly affordable and I told the waitress to keep the change, figuring she deserved it after putting up with my silly introduction. She lit up and thanked me, and then went to prepare my order.

The diner was barely half-full and rather quiet – which my poor head appreciated a lot – and I found a small table a bit closed off from the others where I could sit by myself and enjoy the peace. When the waitress arrived with my food I was sitting with my face buried in my hands, trying to make all the painful throbbing go away. The aspirins had only helped a little.

Hopefully I would feel better after some carbs and I ogled the plate that was put in front of me. Maple syrup and ice cream on the waffles, good choice. I took a bite and looked up at the brunette, who didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

"Thanks, um... What should I call you?"

"Ruby," she said with a friendly smile, her hand resting on the back of the chair across from me.

"Thanks, Ruby."

"You're welcome, Hungover," she said teasingly. "Or was that not your name?"

"Very funny," I muttered, but my eyes were smiling. "Please call me Emma, I'd rather not be reminded of last night any more than I already have been."

"Did some stupid things?" she asked suggestively, and when I groaned she leaned over the table with an intrigued look on her face. "Tell me!"

"Uh-uh," I declined and shook my head, my mouth full of the sweet foods.

Not even in a parallel universe would I ever tell anyone about last night. It was and would stay a secret. Unless, of course, the mayor decided to make it known for some stupid reason, but my prediction was that she – like me – would rather pretend it never happened.

Ruby looked momentarily disappointed and I swallowed to be able to give her at least something. It didn't hurt to try to get to know some people in this town and she seemed eager to make conversation.

"Take my advice though, never drink with a pirate."

"Noted," she said and tilted her head, looking curious. "But pirate? Not a lot of those around here, I believe."

"There is one and that's one too many."

I made a face, eliciting a chuckle from the waitress, and then a large group of people suddenly entered the diner.

"I gotta go," Ruby told me and stood upright. "But you have to tell me more about that pirate someday."

"Maybe," I teased with a smirk.

She flashed me a toothy grin and left my table, heading toward the counter.

"See you around, Emma," she called over her shoulder.


It was Wednesday morning and my phone kept ringing, waking me up from a particularly pleasant dream. What time was it even? It felt like I had just went to sleep moments ago. My hand fumbled for the phone at the nightstand, finding it eventually.

"Shut up," I groaned and didn't bother to keep my eyes open for longer than it took to swipe the green button on the screen. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Graham Humbert from the mayor's office. I'm sorry to call this early but we've got a bit of a situation back there. We would like you to fill in for Miss Boyd, if you're still available?"

"What? Is she alright?" I asked worriedly as the news brought me out of my sleepy state, and then I suddenly made the connection. "It's the baby, isn't it?"

"Yeah, her boyfriend just called from the hospital."

"Wow," I said, for lack of other words.

"The miracle of life," Mr Humbert agreed. "So, can you cover for her?"

"I...um... I'm not sure if that's such a good idea," I said hesitantly, thinking about the weekends events.

I wasn't exactly thrilled by the thought of facing the mayor again so soon, even though I still planned to take my revenge on her someday, somehow.

"Oh, how come? Because you're undoubtedly our best option. You know our routines and we don't really have enough staff to train someone new at the moment. We were hoping you would be able to take Miss Boyd's place not only for today, but for her whole parental leave."

Our? We? Did that mean the mayor had approved? And what had he said at the end...?

"Wait, you want me back, like, full-time?"

"It's still gonna be a temporary employment but yes, full-time."

I thought about this for a moment and came to the conclusion that the pros definitely outweighed the cons. There was no way I would turn down an offer like this just because of some silly drunken misadventure. No, this was actually great news. I would secure an income for a few months and my parents could be kept in the dark about me being fired, they would never have to know. Plus, this was perfect for my payback plans, and I would also be able to continue my attempts to figure the mayor out without coming off as a crazy stalker. Yeah, this was awesome news.

"I'm in," I said determinedly.

"Congratulations!" Mr Humbert greeted over the phone. "You're officially rehired. We'll talk more soon, can you be at the office in an hour?"

Exactly fifty-nine minutes later, at half past seven, I was let into the great building by a half smiling Mr Humbert. As we walked through the – at this hour – empty lobby I glanced at the morbid painting hanging on its regular place on the wall, noticing the familiarity of the situation. This time, however, there wasn't as much paperwork to do and as soon as I had gotten all my necessary work stuff back I went straight to the top to get started.

It was the first time I was working completely without supervision but I wasn't too anxious about it, cause like both Ashley and Mr Humbert had pointed out I knew the routines by now. My only concern was that I had missed almost two of the morning shift hours and I was a bit bothered by the fact that I was behind schedule and had no one to help me catch up.

Because of my late start I made sure to begin with the mayors office, in case she happened to arrive at eight today. It didn't take me long to finish the room but just as I was getting ready to leave I heard the distinctive sound of someone in heels approaching rapidly through the corridor.

Click clack click clack.

Great. I didn't yet want to face the woman that had both ruined my birthday and then ended up being the one saving me during the bothersome aftermath of my disagreeable coping strategy. My feelings about that hadn't changed since I woke up. I imagined that she wouldn't be particularly thrilled to encounter me in her office first thing in the morning either, so, what to do?

Click clack click clack.

Should I leave the room in a hurry and risk bumping into her? Or just pretend to be busy? It wasn't like I had a lot of options. Would what I chose to do even make a difference? The clicking sound stopped and oh well, now it was too late to do anything anyway.

The door opened and revealed the mayor in a pantsuit, her coat hung over her arm. She was rummaging through her purse and made it two whole steps into the room before noticing me, her head quickly snapping up as she stopped dead in her tracks. Our eyes locked and this was all very much like...like...in my dream.

Due to my hasty awakening and unanticipated news this morning I had completely forgotten about it, until now, but it was suddenly all I could think about.

I had dreamt about the mayor. I had dreamt about the fucking mayor. Hell, I had dreamt about fucking the mayor! Clearly my subliminal self was way ahead of me.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned vehemently, bringing me – at least partially – back to reality.

So, the humble Mr Humbert had not only acted on his own while rehiring me, he hadn't even informed the mayor that he had done so. Bad move, Mr Humbug.

"I work here," I stated plainly, tugging at the cleaning trolley and my work clothes respectively. "Thought these might give me away..."

Brown eyes glared at me – certainly not amused by my attempt at a joke – and the mayor worked her jaw, gripping her purse a little tighter.

"Since when?" she demanded, the hostility in her voice poorly masked.

"Since about...maybe...fifteen minutes ago?" I estimated.

"And why is that?"

It occurred to me that if she didn't know about me, perhaps she didn't know about Ashley either.

"Oh, perhaps you haven't heard," I said, "but Ashley went into labour this morning. I'm covering for her."

"No, I hadn't heard that," the brunette said through gritted teeth, a resentful look on her face.

Her voice had become more and more venomous for each reply and I figured someone at fourth floor was going to regret not enlightening the mayor of the recent changes regarding her staff.

"Well, if you now are going to work here, perhaps you should stop talking..." she began threateningly and proceeded into the room, walking straight up to me, "...and consider to actually do your job."

She was standing close, invading my personal space and imperiously looking down at me from the notable height advantage she got from her heels.

This was actually quite similar to how things had played out in that dream of mine and if my mind hadn't been so occupied thinking about what had happened next in it, the mayor's obvious attempt to intimidate me would probably have succeeded better.

She suddenly pushed me down onto her desk and started kissing me forcefully, her hands rippingmy clothes off and roaming over my exposed skin, was not what happened in real life though. We didn't engage in any furious hate-sex and neither did I try to make that happen. It had just been a silly – but arousing, I'd admit that – dream and I wasn't interested in getting charged for sexual assault.

Also, I was pretty sure it was the situation I felt drawn to now, if anything, and not her personally. I mean, it was a common thing to have fantasies about getting down and dirty with your boss in their office. Right? Especially when your boss happened to be aggravated by the mere sight of you and was sexy as hell when she was mad, that could really be a turn on and fire up the mood. Wait... I realized I was contradicting myself.

Determinedly meeting the mayor's piercing stare, not for a second shifting my gaze away from it, I took a moment to ponder over my actual desires.

This unsympathetic woman was, evidentially, featuring in my dreams and fantasies. That didn't necessarily mean I wanted anything to do with her in real life, though. I didn't like her, the fact that she had done one nice thing for me – obviously referring to driving me home, not the false job offer – didn't change that. But, of course, we didn't have to like each other. It was often easier that way, anyway.

The hitch was, I didn't want to want someone as loathsome as her. Someone who had fired me, enjoyed it, and now was pissed off because I was back. It was a totally legit reason. Also, I didn't wantto want someone I could never have – because that was just...frustrating – and the way the mayor was looking at me right this moment left little to speculate about.

But.

The way she was looking at me also evoked certain urges, and no matter how legit any reasons were, no matter how much I didn't want to want her, I couldn't keep denying the facts forever.

I breathed in a little deeper, finally admitting it to myself.

I wanted Mayor Mills.

In a strictly, exclusively, and purely physical way, that was.

And it really was frustrating, because I knew nothing would ever happen between us. Even if I overlooked our hostility toward one another, my chances were pretty much zero. She was the mayor and I was, well, no one.

The odds were certainly not in my favour and trying to seduce her would – at best – be a waste of my time. But I still couldn't help to think about how I would best go about that task, not when our faces were mere inches apart and it would've been so easy to just...lean in...and definitely loose my job again.

I refrained from glancing down at her lips and swallowed, more or less discreetly. For how long had she even been staring me down now? Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? Probably not hours, but this was getting ridiculous. True to the mayor's suggestion, I really should do my job instead of standing here with my never-ending inappropriate thoughts. I had a lot of work ahead of me.

Stubbornly refusing to succumb to her superiority I used my most calculated voice as I finally broke the silence.

Sure, I'll do my job, if you do yours, I didn't say. I just said "sure", not letting anything other than determination show on my face.

With a dismissive puff of air through her nose the mayor turned on her heel and walked past me to her desk.

That was all? No comment? Did this mean I had won this battle? It didn't exactly feel like a victory. Perhaps it had been a tie? Anyhow, it was certainly time for me to leave.

Not glancing back toward the desk I dragged the cleaning trolley through the room, pulled it over the threshold, and carefully closed the door after me. No matter who had won the staring contest, this run-in hadn't turned out too bad. According to our usual standards I would say that it had actually gone pretty well, considering that no one had gotten literally run into, or fired, or even yelled at. But not five steps later the door behind me flew open again and the mayor peeked out with narrowed eyes.

"When you see Mr Humbert, send him up here immediately."

I gave a nod, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the poor man. But he had actually brought this on himself. I just hoped he wasn't in too much trouble.

"What are you gonna do to him?" I wondered, realizing it sounded like I was implying she would punish him physically.

Which...perhaps I was. What did I know about her methods, behind closed doors? I only knew that she liked to spread verbal poison and stare people down.

The mayor rolled her eyes in annoyance and disappeared into her office again, without answering my question. Since she seemed to enjoy firing people I was a little worried for Mr Humbert's sake, but the office needed a chief of staff so she would probably keep him. Hopefully she could forgive him for his mistake, this one time, even though she obviously wasn't the most forgiving of souls.


A couple of hours later I was sitting in the breakroom, sipping on a hot drink from the coffee machine. I hadn't had much time to prepare any food this morning and my stomach was loudly disagreeing with my decision to save the orange I had brought, for lunch. However, it wasn't that kind of hunger my mind was primarily focused on.

Regardless of how hard I tried not to think about it, I kept seeing scenes from my dream replayed in my head, over and over again. The imaginary world was one thing, but in reality that kind of activities had been painfully absent. Perhaps that explained why I was so terribly mantsy all of a sudden? Anyhow, something was clearly up with my hormone levels. This was unbearable.

"I really need to get laid," I groaned to no one in particular, since the room was empty.

I needed to do something before these images in my head drove me crazy and had me do something rash and stupid. It had been a close – rather literally – call earlier in the mayor's office, and since that night with Captain Hooker I didn't trust my impulse control anymore.

"I can help with that."

Speak of the devil! Killian Jones was exactly the person I didn't want to talk to right now – or, like, ever again – and I lifted my hot drink to my lips, trying to hide my face deep into the cup.

"Ugh, not you again," I complained.

"Glad to see you too, love," he replied, unfazed as usual. "The Queen changed her mind, huh? I wouldn't have thought it."

"Nope, she still hates me," I said. "But fortunately, for me, Mr Humbert doesn't."

Killian slumped down in the opposite seat across the table and gave me a pondering look.

"So, it's really happening..."

"What is happening?" I questioned, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Humbert straying from his mistress."

I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he had implied something in particular with his choice of words, or if it was just my hormones in play.

"Please don't tell me they're screwing each other?"

I didn't know if I could handle any more pictures in my head and those I definitely didn't want to have.

"The Queen doesn't screw people," Killian said with a pointed look. "Screws them over maybe."

I groaned. He hadn't exactly denied it. Why had I even asked?!

"Jealous, are you?"

I glared at his smug face, tensing my jaw, and he burst out laughing.

"I'm just kidding you," he said. "I wouldn't know."

Great, so now I would be stuck with these vaguely possible scenarios in my head forever.

"But I'd bet hundred bucks that at least she hasn't had any in a while, cause she's been worse than ever lately."

Ashley had said the same thing. What if it actually had something to do with me? In the worst of ways then, probably.

"You should've been here this Monday," the Irishman continued, my silence not stopping him from elaborating. "I was replacing some flickering lights in her office and she started insulting my home and lifestyle. So far nothing out of the ordinary."

He paused, grinning, and I drank from my now lukewarm cup.

"Then she gave me a lecture about our workplace policies, no drinking on the job, no harassing coworkers-"

My sudden coughing fit drowned out his last words and I tried to get the liquid up from where it certainly didn't belong. Had she told him?!

"You okay there?" he asked and arched an eyebrow.

"Ahem! Yeah..." I said, my hoarse voice telling a different story. "Why would she... Why would she do that?"

Killian shrugged, not seeming too bothered.

"Honestly, I don't know, but she always disapproves of everything I do. Maybe she was just extra cranky that day, for some reason."

I heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn't told him. But she had given him a lecture, apparently. To think that it had anything to do with me would probably be foolish, she obviously didn't care about me personally. More likely, she was just trying to get to Killian. That was actually one thing we had in common. We didn't like Killian Jones.