Chapter Two: Repercussions
Emma was hunched over her desk at the station doing paperwork. This was not how she wanted to spend her Saturday. Sleeping till midday was more her thing (which was easier now that her roommate refused to come within 5 feet of her door). Usually after showering and some semblance of primping, she would arrive downstairs to meet a flurry of activity. Every Saturday Mary Margaret cooked them French toast complete with blueberry eyes and banana smiles. Without fail there was always a fresh, full pot of coffee waiting for a groggy Emma at noon. From there they would enter into conversation about how their week was, what upset them, and the things that made them smile. It was the type of talk Emma wouldn't have bothered with, but this was Mary Margaret and she actually cared about her week and vice-versa.
There would be consequences for this kind of fun, though. If work was not completed in prompt fashion by five o'clock every day the mayor would be all too pleased to kick her out of a job. Emma wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. She had had enough of that woman.
The stapler was pounded down with the thwack of a fist. No staple. She pounded harder, again and again without regard to the damage the paperwork was receiving. She failed to coerce the stapler.
Emma's rage was interrupted by the ringing phone.
"What?!" she shouted into the receiver. The stapler ended up in the trash.
"Uh, it's just me."
"Oh," shoulders fell at the sound of a small, downcast voice, "sorry about that. Just one of those days, you know?" Emma ran a hand through her hair, calming herself down. "What can I do for you, kid?"
"I was hoping you'd want to hang out with me today. I'm thinking we should go over our strategy for Operation Cobra; get a contingency plan in place. Just in case, you know?" There was a pause. "And I'm kind of hungry, so maybe we should eat first."
"Yeah, I'm with you on that." Emma chuckled. "Food should definitely be a priority." Once she said it the stack of reports on her desk seemed to magically grow taller. She sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't today. The station has me tied up today."
"It's the weekend, Emma! No one does work on the weekend. I don't even do my homework on Saturdays."
"Which is probably why your mom wouldn't approve of us hanging out today."
A childish scoff came from the other line. "You know if you don't have lunch with me my mom will."
"And what's so awful about that?" Emma could think of a dozen reasons, but none of them applied to Henry.
"You're really going to leave me alone with the Evil Queen?"
"Henry," she sighed, "you've been alone with your mom for ten years. I hardly think eating lunch with her will kill you."
"Did you even read the book? She poisoned Snow White with an apple! How can you be so sure she won't do the same to me?!"
"Do you trust me?"
Silence. The kind of silence that hurt. Then a soft reply, "Of course."
"Ask her out to lunch. She won't see it coming and it will catch her so off guard there will be no time to prepare your death. Now don't tell me that sounds illogical."
"It is kind of brilliant."
"And you need to eat, so what are you doing talking to me?"
"Okay, I'm going. Bye."
"Talk to you later."
Emma hung up.
Who indeed would want to have lunch with that harlot? She felt sorry for Henry. If only he knew what his mother was capable of. Emma winced. On second thought, maybe he's better off not knowing. Emma was just glad she did not have to be around that bitch every morning, noon, and night.
Her chest still burned at the rejection. Why Regina had to pull away when they were just starting to get somewhere? When Emma was just starting to feel something? At first Emma thought it was her own inadequacies as a lover that resulted in such a swift refusal. Was she too rough? Was she not rough enough? Or did it have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with emotion? The idea that Regina sought a firm base of trust before the physical act seemed preposterous, yet Emma couldn't help but think the mayor was like any human being. Even Emma liked the occasional sweet talking – as long as it didn't lead to anything serious like a steady date. But was the rejection really her fault? After all, Regina had a way of making people feel responsible for things they didn't do and manipulated them into feeling like the shit beneath people's shoes.
The pressure beneath her breastbone intensified with every flashing memory of lips and the haunting words of Get out. Or maybe it was just the coffee.
"Ugh," she croaked, glancing at the sludge in disgust. Steaming or lukewarm, the stuff settled like rot gut. Foregoing the stimulant, a hand massaged the source of the burn. She pulled out an antacid and popped it.
Her eyes went to the mounds of files and papers. It wasn't long before she moaned out her frustration and expressed a head desk in its truest form.
"Doyouwannahavelunchwithme?!"
Regina jerked the phone from her ear like it would bite her. The jumbled shout was male, a bit anxious, and oddly resembled the boyish tone of her 10-year-old son. "Henry? Is that you?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you? Did you leave of the house again without my permission?"
"If I did why would I be calling you?"
Well, that hurt. Her teeth clenched as she came up with a scolding remark but Henry continued.
"I'm in my room where I'm supposed to be. On a Saturday," he finished petulantly.
Taking the cordless phone with her to the foyer she glanced up the stairwell. "Why can't you speak to me in person? Your generation seems to think technology trumps human contact. I'm shocked that you would follow the crowd so blindly. I've taught you better." She gripped the bannister but did not ascend. Her shout echoed up the stairs. "And you are not supposed to be using my cell phone, young man!"
There was no reply. Regina knew full well he was punishing her with this silence. It was his classic response to scolding. She let it go, for now. Today was the weekend, which meant no work, which meant no distraction from her monotonous life.
After taking a breath she asked in a surprisingly maternal tone, "What is it Henry?"
"I'm hungry."
"There are some leftovers in the fridge. I can heat up some of Thursday's casserole if you'd like." While speaking into the phone she continued to look up the stairs as if he were doing the same from the second floor. He wasn't. It was without a doubt their most awkward exchange yet.
"Will you take me to lunch? I want to go out."
His voice sounded strange from the receiving end. It was expectant yet pained. The air seemed to hang stagnant for a moment, causing Regina's throat to constrict. "With me." It was a statement, not a question. Maybe not fact, but something resembling it. Suddenly a childlike hope that was supposedly lost long ago bubbled up within Regina. Clutching her shirt collar she waited for the other shoe to drop.
There was a noise of shuffling from the other line, perhaps size five shoes that were not supposed to be reclined on his bed. "Mm-hm," he replied.
"You don't want to go with your friends?" she asked hesitantly, knowing those were in short supply to the boy.
"Emma didn't want to."
And there was the other shoe (or rather, the cheap leather boot). Being second choice felt like a knife in the chest. And when first choice happened to be that trashy, no-good blonde who rejected Henry the knife only twisted that much deeper. She shook it off. He didn't have to ask Regina; he could have simply snuck out as per his usual approach. It was the closest thing to progress mother and son had experienced in years.
"Well then, where would you like to eat? Your choice." She smiled, knowing his answer.
"Let's do Granny's."
A yellow VW Bug pulled up to the curb just as the engine gave an agonizing sputter.
"I promise, baby, I'll get you a tune up by the end of next week," Emma said while rubbing the dash affectionately.
There was some kind of maple festival going on that day. The phone was ringing off the hook, probably looking for extra volunteers. That people actually thought the sheriff worked on a Saturday… Then again, she had holed herself up there with paperwork. She didn't answer the calls, of course. If it was an emergency they would get a hold of her on her cell.
By the seventh call a change of scenery was in order. After stuffing some files in a frayed briefcase Emma set out with only one thing in mind: a warm, gooey grilled cheese.
Propping the door open Emma waved to Ruby who looked giddy as always from behind the counter. A few smiles were exchanged with the locals until the sheriff's eyes fell on the far booth and the brunette bitch occupying it. She sauntered over, regardless of rules, ethics, or blurred lines. If looks could kill, Emma hoped her glare was intense enough to shoot laser bolts.
"Emma! I thought you were working at the station today."
"I thought so too," she ground out.
The glare was returned with similar intensity. Emma narrowed her eyes just as Regina did the same. A few customers felt the tension but continued to stare down their cups of coffee or talk in hushed tones. The mayor's and sheriff's staring was so loud it could have been heard from Tallahassee.
"You wanna have lunch with us?"
The cheery tone and bobbing child in the booth diverted Emma's gaze just as Regina flinched at the invitation.
"That's not necessary, Henry. I'm sure Sheriff Swan has work to do." She smiled sweetly for the benefit of her child. "Anyway, this is our weekly mother/son lunch."
"Our what?"
"Our –" Regina hesitated. It occurred to her that there was no such thing. A brow arched as she recovered flatly, "We already ordered."
"I'm sure there's a spare menu around her somewhere," countered Emma.
She slid in next to Henry. Low and behold there was a single menu sandwiched between the ketchup bottle and the sugar shaker. She grinned and snatched it up while Regina's jaw dropped at such an affront. It was as if fate wanted Emma Swan to piss off Regina Mills.
"What did you order?" Emma playfully elbowed the boy who returned with his own jab.
"Grilled cheese and a hot chocolate."
Ruby stopped by to get the third party's selection which just happened to be identical to the boy's.
Emma winked at her son. "Great minds think alike."
Henry laughed joyfully as Regina boiled in her seat.
When the food came Regina pushed her salad to the side. "I seem to have lost my appetite."
"Oh, what's the matter, sour puss?" came the muttering around a melted cheese sandwich.
Brown locks whipped so fast they could have caused a whirlwind. Somehow her brain processed the addressed title with a 'y' at the end and she gaped in horror. Suddenly that one word brought a series of images and sensations to the forefront. The hand that reached around her waist, clamping their bodies together… the fingers that had thrust into her wet folds not once or twice but a dozen exquisite times. Oh, and how hard she could have came to those ministrations; it would have only taken a few more seconds, a few additional well placed strokes until…
Sitting in the booth with thighs braced fiercely together, Regina's clit twitched at the memory. Her eyes darted to Henry and then back at Emma to confirm that her thoughts went unheard. Regina's cheeks grew crimson at such an error. She heard more laughing, but it wasn't directed at her. Emma had just made a pathetic joke which sent Henry into fits of laughter. She witnessed Emma throw a fry at her son.
Like a bitter predator that had been robbed of its territory, Regina watched it all play out. This was how Emma bested her, using their son (correction: Regina's son) to get one up on her. A performance suffused in deceit. A staged trap not unlike her own.
Of course, Regina played her hand exceedingly better. During their little tryst on her desk she had responded in the very manner expected of her. She rather enjoyed that performance. It mixed things up a bit in her life. Regina wasn't much of a screamer or a curser, not unless you count the one that brought them there. It took everything in her not to laugh at the sheriff, so rough in her screwing it was clumsy.
But like all performances the best lies were blanketed in truth. That's what scared Regina. That's why this was so dangerous and thrilling and – if she could just admit it to herself – fun. The truth that curtained Emma's performance terrorized just as well. It was the kind of truth that proved blood trumped a piece of paper. The Queen of Fairy Tale Land and Mayor of Storybrooke did not fall for such an act, but her son had. He allowed himself to be lured into the trick. He was worshiping this woman in front of her and the worst thing was that Emma smiled, well aware of it. Regina bristled before the childish antics that had now escalated to a string cheese competition (whatever that was).
"Hey, hey, mine is longer!"
"Nu-uh! Mine so is! Look at it!"
"You're cheating, Emma! You're not supposed to use your fingers to stretch it!"
Regina watched in disgust as Emma extracted her greasy fingers from the string of cheese. She watched in disgust as the buttery pink lips wrapped around the stuff and pulled the cheese further, stretching the three inches to four.
"Heh, Roo-ey! You go'a ru-er 'ack there?"
"A what?" asked Ruby from the counter.
"A ru-er!"
"A rooter?"
Emma gave out an exasperated sigh and repeated, "A –"
"A ruler!" Regina bellowed, eyes shut with equal frustration. "She wants a god damn ruler!"
The diner went silent.
Finally, Ruby answered, "I'm afraid Granny's all out of those."
A few chuckles rang out through the restaurant, the tension dissipating.
"Hey, kid, how would you like to get dessert at the maple festival? I hear Mrs. Nolan makes a great maple ice cream."
"Awesome! Let's go!"
The two kids launched themselves from out the booth wearing identical smiles and eyes as big as their stomachs.
"Oh, Sheriff," Regina put on a concerned frown for performance purposes, "I thought you were swamped with work."
Emma's face fell. It was little bother that the mayor won this round. What did bother her was missing out on her own mother/son bonding time. She was just psyched at the prospect of spending the day with her son not to mention trying some of that maple glazed bacon. So much for having a fun-filled Saturday sleeping in and gobbling up syrup flavored everything.
"Sorry, kid. I'm afraid I don't have time for the festival today." She punched his shoulder lightly. "Those police reports aren't gonna sign themselves."
"Well… okay," sighed Henry.
Regina addressed the sheriff, "We wouldn't want to take you away from your duties." She held her hand out to the boy. "Come Henry." She added with practiced enthusiasm, "Let's have some good, clean fun!"
Work proceeded as an event unworthy of historical record. The job of sheriffing was not all it was cracked up to be with its deceptive workload and complexity of jurisdiction. Enforcing the law was wholly unmagical, even if you included the thrill of packing heat.
On that steamy, summer afternoon, Emma powered through sheer boredom, punctuated by the occasional maple glazed bacon illusion and sugared donut daydream. Soon her finger was found guilty skating patterns through granules of sugar. Eyes drooped and stale coffee gave off the last wisps of steam. Storybrooke really needed to start getting interesting or Emma would have to start arresting people for no good reason. And the first citizen who would get the cuffs was none other than…
"A lovely midsummer's day and you choose to spend it here." The last word was punctuated with a snide expression trademarked by the mayor herself. "How… stuffy."
Shooing the sugar grains with a sweep of her hand, Emma wakened from her slouch. "It's my job, isn't it?"
"Hm, but for how long?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"All in good time," dismissed Regina. Her eyes wandered the small cubical of an office as if looking for something to hold over the sheriff whether it be the flat chair cushions or the trash overflowing with fast food debris. "The town put on quite the festival. Everyone managed to make an appearance, taste the food, contribute to the local venders..." She smirked widely, tasting triumph in the air. "You should have been there as every time I see you there's something filled or sprinkled stuffed in your mouth. I'm sure you would have been taken with the maple cream Twinkies."
Emma glared at the audacity of someone using her one and only vice against her. What a cheap shot. She wasn't a drunk, never got into drugs, and hadn't stolen a lick of anything in months. Why can't people just leave her sweet, gooey sin alone?
"More importantly, Henry had a marvelous time. Just the two of us, mother and son out on the town."
Not up to taking on the role of gullible trout, Emma ignored the bait to pour every ounce of focus on the open files on her desk. The only thing wrong with that was her inability to sulk with subtlety.
"Which brings me to the reason for my visit. " Haughty smile in the lead, Regina sniffed and flicked back a strand of brunette. "I would have done this at the diner, but with an audience and all – not to mention my son being present – it was hardly the appropriate place. I thought you deserved to retain whatever dignity you owned."
Emma's face screwed into confusion. "I can't tell if that's a favor or an insult."
A delicate hand flicked the air. "Whichever makes this easier for you. I should think it won't matter when I'm finished."
Frowning, Emma straightened in her chair. Now what did that mean? Goosebumps rose on her skin, the air in her lungs suspended mid-breath. For a moment it seemed like the mayor had half a mind to pick up where they left off. It was a welcome turn of events despite the murderous thoughts Emma had of late.
The leather whined under her as she leant forward, elbows propped on the desk. Her nose dove forward and caught a whiff of the tantalizing sweetness of maple syrup. It was as if Regina had been bathed in it, head to toe. A pink tongue extended of its own accord, seeming to lap at the air before collecting the dryness of a bottom lip.
Sharp clicks shot the air. Regina approached the sheriff's desk just as its possessor advanced. Emma hadn't even noticed the distance closing. The air was made heavy by summer and syrup and need. The smells distorted her vision almost beyond repair. Emma just fell closer, driven by the mayoral apparition, regardless of what it would cost her.
Gravity was dead set on pulling them together. Who was Emma to stop elementary physics? One track mind, all she wanted to do was nibble on the mayor's thigh like it was a pancake battered corn dog. Or better yet, lick her head to toe as she would any maple popsicle, running a tongue along warm flesh and wrapping wet lips around…
Fuck, Emma thought, what's gotten into me?!
Blinking rapidly, she bit her lip before that tongue of hers could land her in jail. Why was it so hard to keep a lid on those images? The constant dreams were teasing enough. She probably looked like a golden retriever in front of a Milk-Bone right then. Yeah, in front of a nice Twinkie shaped treat filled with syrupy…
A clack met her desk, springing Emma from fantasy land. She looked down to find Regina's hand leave the device. As ominous as the monolith which perturbed scientists in Kubrick's mind-bending film stood a tape recorder.
"What's this?" Emma asked, brow perked warily.
"This," Regina explained, "is my bargaining chip."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me? What's on it, anyway?"
"Find out for yourself. I insist."
Not at all comforted by the confidence in that tone, Emma made room for curiosity. Following the depressed click of a button, a wheezing sounded from the rotating spindle. The recording crackled a bit until a voice broke through. With a small gasp, Emma identified the tin-like quality of the voice emanating from the speakers as her own. And she wasn't the only one on the recording. There echoed another voice, prim at first yet taking on a startled quality once accompanied by background clattering. The longer it went on the further Emma sank into her chair.
"… I suggest you retrace your steps and knock before barging in."
"Shut it!"
There was a telltale scratching of a chair rolling back.
"Miss Swan, you will leave at once!"
"No."
Clothing rustled in the background followed by rattling desk drawers.
"Stop!"
"I thought you wanted this."
Silence.
"How dare you throw yourself at me. I am your superior!"
"This isn't the military."
The rustling of clothing resumed. Lips smacked suggestively, wet and eager.
"I said stop!"
"No."
The scream that pierced the humid air of the sheriff's office sounded familiar, having first been taken as a cry of passion. But considering the context of what the tape just played for her the sound could be construed as anything but consensual. Horrified, stunned, and burnt by humiliation, Emma just gaped at the tape recorder.
"Fuck."
Regina quipped flatly, "Indeed."
Green eyes flicked up. The intent was clear. "You…" Emma's mouth grew tight around the impending word. She clenched on it despite the clawing need. "Do you even know what this could do to me? Of course you do – or it wouldn't exist. Did you ever… Shit!" Her hand flew from its clamped place on her forehead to smack flat against her desk. The violent gesture prompted no response from the mayor who clasped her hands stoically. Once Emma caught her breath she asked as evenly as possible, "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you besides give you what you wanted? You were practically begging me. I did not harass you. That… that…" Emma's hand flew out but hardly with the intent to destroy. Knowing Regina, she probably made several copies. "That tape is not the full story!"
"The tape says what I need it to say. Now, you have two choices. Choice number one," a slender finger rose for effect, "you can put up a fight and contest the evidence, thereby making yourself look even more liable. That decision will send you down the road to humiliation, unemployment, and without visitation rights to my son." The accusatory finger was joined by a second. "Choice number two: you can willingly step down from your position as sheriff of this town and spare yourself the ugly backlash that the first choice would bring you."
Both sounded equally humiliating. Emma began to stand, but had to kick at her chair which refused to allow her room to rise. "This is unbelievable!" she growled, at the chair, at her boss, at the world.
"I should think so." Sooty lashes fluttered as Regina grimaced accordingly. "After the way you handled me… I cannot believe your actions have surprised me. I should have known better."
"Oh, don't pull that shit with me, Regina! No one in this town is going to believe you!"
"And why wouldn't they vouch for their mayor? Is it because the new resident of only a few months has captured their hearts with her criminal background? Or perhaps it is her high and mighty attitude: big city girl looking down on the small town folks."
Regina rounded the desk, drawing the tips of her fingers along the desk. When they came up caked with dust and crumbs, she flicked them with a curl of her lip.
"The people in this town are not easily swayed by outsiders, Miss Swan. You were not born here like the rest of us. You did not attend our schools, go to mass on Sundays, volunteer at community fundraisers, or attend our yearly maple festival for that matter. No one knows you," she insinuated, shaking her head, hands shrugging. "What makes you so dependable?"
"What about Henry?"
"What about him?"
"You seriously think he's going to take your side in this?"
In the blink of an eye, Regina marched into Emma's personal space. She gleaned with brutal intent to rip apart the pale neck with her very teeth. "If you make the right decision he won't fall in the middle of this. Do you really think sexual harassment, though substantiated, is a suitable subject to discuss with a ten-year-old? And to make him side with one over the other? A mother would never burden her child with that kind of choice. And if it came to that, well, my son would remember all the good I gave him and he would place trust in ten years of home, nourishment, and care."
Emma opened her mouth in rebuttal, but it was clear from the subsequent advance that Regina hadn't finished. Suddenly, the small office seemed to shrink. She felt trapped by those thickening brown eyes and made hot by the breath coursing over her face. A trickle of sweat ran from her hairline, tickling the skin near her ear and Emma didn't have a care to wipe it away. She didn't care because for the briefest moment having Regina this close to her, this intimate, she's never felt more beautiful or wanted and this excruciatingly, heartwarmingly weak. And if any move, any hairline fraction of a gesture was made, the spell will have been broken.
Chin turned up Regina surged to meet the gasp so close to hers. Her eyes slipped closed, joining Emma in the breathy moan between their parted lips. And then her whisper came like a breeze, carefree as a summer morning. "All you ever gave him was a walkie-talkie."
Backing away Regina gave one last meaningful glance, a reminder of her proposition, and cleared out of the station.
