Chapter Three: Congratulations

"Madam, your one o'clock has arrived. Would you like me to send them in?"

"Not just yet, Erik."

The tips of her fingers finished typing Director Paulson's termination letter and proceeded from there to manage the files on her desk. Her hands fluttered purposefully until a thought struck her. The dark marble surface reflected lines of confusion on the mayor's face.

"I don't recall the name of my appointment," she called to the crack of her open office door. "Who is waiting for me?"

"I… I think that is something you should discuss with your – Ich meine, with the person who is here."

Though her assistant's High Franconian German accent exhibited charm, his stumbling brought her eyes to a roll.

"Shall I – No, junge, wait! Do not go in yet! She will be very –"

A gilded door knob squeaked to its eager intruder. She paused in recrossing her legs to gape at her visitor.

"You are my one o'clock?"

"Yup!"

"Yes," she corrected. "You are supposed to be in school, Henry. What has gotten into you? I didn't raise a son to neglect their studies for a prank meeting."

"It's a half day," he explained plainly.

"Oh." How could she have forgotten? Frustration had her fingers pressed to her temple and shaking her head at a faulty memory.

A face peeked from behind the door: alert, baby blue eyes, impeccable eyebrows, wavy, shoulder-length hair that rivaled the corn silk gold of Emma's, and a sculpted jawline. His mouth opened tentatively.

"It's all right, Erik."

"Can I offer you a beverage, Henry? Tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Do you have orange soda?"

"He will have water." A motherly glare was consent enough for the assistant. She disregarded the sulking from across the desk. "What have you come to speak about?"

"Erhm…"

"You may remove the sweater, dear."

Henry Mills, though owning a dress suit tailored to his size, had not the steady hands to fashion a necktie (that honor lied with his mother). As a result, he had to resort to more reasonable clothing, though not taking into account the season.

Puffing out flushed cheeks, the boy looked down at the white collar of his dress shirt which peeked over a navy blue sweater. He frowned like he had done something wrong, perhaps the tail of his shirt was sticking out or the sweater which he received for his eighth birthday had started pilling beyond repair. It looked positively stifling. And in the heat of midday July he felt like a baked bird in the oven.

"Though I appreciate the pains you took to look presentable for this meeting, I wouldn't want you to develop heat stroke." When he made no move to undress, she tipped her head purposefully. "Your mayor insists."

Regina smiled as the four pound sweater came off in an instant. Henry sighed pleasantly and plucked the dress shirt away from his overheated chest.

"I came here to give you an idea for who you should hire as the new sheriff."

The mayor's head rose in understanding. "You would like to propose a candidate?"

"That's what I said. Here are some references and stuff."

A mangled manila folder was handed over. Regina smiled wryly, identifying the faded file as one of many items that had once been the highlight of playtime – or play office as a giggling four-year-old used to call it.

"Here you go, junge."

Erik handed the young boy a glass of water complete with ice and a bright green straw.

"Es ist kalt. Danke, Erik!"

Regina grinned from over the file, taking pride in her son's linguistic efforts. Like any mother, she fully expected her little boy to stay with her forever, though it was only right to raise a child with a global perspective and a thirst for cultural knowledge.

Since eight-years-old, Henry had been tutored in German by the willing Erik. Three days a week he would come from school to read and complete prearranged lesson plans. In addition, his instructor received many snooty lessons on proper American slang. Both were enthusiastic in learning from one another and had come to develop a mentor/mentee bond.

The door closed neatly behind the assistant and Regina went back to the file. She perused it with a keen eye, knowing her son wouldn't come dressed like a gentleman if he expected anything less of her. If he took this state of affairs seriously then she would meet it with equal seriousness. When she got to the last page of notebook paper she realized a very important element was missing.

"Henry, no name accompanies this file."

His lips thinned as innocent eyes studied the ceiling.

Regina narrowed her eyes teasingly with a "Hm," before taking a closer look at the contents. It only took a minute to decipher the owner of such brilliant accomplishments and seconds for her patience to wear thin.

"Did she put you up to this?"

"Who?"

"Do not play me for a fool. I do not condone this kind of behavior. If Miss Swan has something to say to me she can refrain from using children to do her dirty work."

"She didn't make me do anything!" insisted Henry. "It was my idea. I swear! She doesn't even know I'm here."

Regina bit the inside of her cheek, but held fast at the sight of the boy. As a mother she hated to see him like this. He was far too young to lose hope in anything. All she wanted for him was the kind of childhood she had wished for herself at that age. Regina didn't know how to react to this onset of courage and his well-meant recklessness. His heart showed great kindness to others, regardless of the danger it would put him in. That characteristic was exceedingly at odds with her own; one of the clear differences between a child and a wicked queen. Yet she loved him all the more for it. It made him special and her full to the brim with pride.

"Henry," Regina began, clutching fiercely to her Mont Blanc before releasing it with an exhale, "I am touched by your willingness to help someone in need. Miss Swan may not be my favorite person and I may not want her around us, but I am a very proud mother to have a son that stands up for who they believe in. As mayor, it is an honor to meet with someone who takes the time to look their best. You came prepared and presentable and that is more than I can say for some of my lesser employees. Given time and education you would make an impressive politician," she mused with a wink and a grin. Henry looked down, blushing. "But you must understand that this is not a game. Henry, you should know better than to interfere in these matters. And though I cannot speak for Miss Swan I would venture she would be rather embarrassed that you spoke on her behalf."

"I just want to help," he murmured.

"I know you do."

"But if she can't get her old job back how will she pay for stuff?"

"She is not your responsibility, Henry. She is a grown woman capable of finding work elsewhere." Preferably across the border in some faraway plot in Canada, Regina thought to herself.

Green eyes widened suddenly and for a moment Regina thought her wistful musing had been found out.

"Hey, what if you help her?" the boy asked brightly. "You're mayor! Is there anything she can do here? Maybe she can be your assistant!"

"Sweetheart, Erik has been my assistant for longer than Miss Swan has been in Storybrooke. We wouldn't want him to lose his job just so Miss Swan can have her hot cocoa."

It came across as spiteful and meant to be so, but Henry was too concerned over the woman's wellbeing to notice.

Henry's tone turned pleading. "There's no job openings?"

Regina gave a subtle push to angle her computer screen (and soon-to-be ex-Director Paulson's termination letter) away. "I'm afraid not, darling."

His chin met the collar of his white shirt. He sighed. "I know she can do better. It's just…"

The mayor rolled her eyes. This was the last conversation she would have expected to have that day. Despite playing a cruel hand she had no sympathy for Emma. But for her son she could scrounge up a trace of it. "Go on," she prodded gently.

"She's been so sad lately. And we hardly ever hang out because she worries about finding work. And I feel bad… Emma doesn't think she can be a good sheriff. But she can be! I know it!"

"Henry, you know that I would not fire Miss Swan unless she failed to meet basic standards."

Taking it as a question the boy opened us mouth. The look on his mother's face, though, the kind that soothed his worst fevers and hovered over unintended scrapes with kisses closed his retort. He gave a vague nod.

"This matter has nothing to do with you. And I would not like you to feel responsible for whatever happens to her when she is in this town."

His head jerked up to reveal a look of fright. "Emma wouldn't leave us, would she?"

"That…" Would be a blessing to our family, she intended to say, but her hardened reply melted a bit at the vulnerability in her son's voice. And her compliance had nothing to do with his use of the word 'us,' or the subtle warmth it supplied. She rephrased, "That is not up to me." Her head turned away to focus on new paperwork, paperwork that had no link with ex-sheriffs.

Henry's eyes trailed after his faded file as it was pushed to the far corner of the desk, closest to the trash but not quite there yet. Taking this as an end to the meeting he got up from the chair and left his mother to her work.

The door closed softer than expected. Considering the disappointing conclusion to the appointment she would have expected the picture frame rattling slam she had come to associate with her son lately. Her hands stopped their file shuffling to hold her head up. She breathed out a sigh, unsurprised when it declined to give her relief. After all, she hadn't felt at peace since before a certain stranger waltzed up her walkway.

Regina proceeded to work that day regardless of the migraine developing. She still had the task of hiring a replacement sheriff. There were few unemployed citizens and even fewer candidates suitable for the job. When the right person arose it came as a brilliant light bulb moment.

Smirking delightfully, Regina sat up straighter. She lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed the number of Storybrooke's new sheriff.

"Hello, this is Mayor Mills."

The smile grew as her greeting was returned with equal allure. She sank back into her chair and crossed one slender leg over the other.

"Yes, it is a beautiful afternoon, isn't it?"

The tip of her red fingernail traced a looping design on her bare kneecap. She shivered under the scraping caress and laughed breathily to the voice on the other line.

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way because I have a proposition for you. One that I should think will be impossible to resist."


An unemployed woman of 28 took liberties with her sleeping schedule: staying up all night at the club with Jerry the bartender, crashing by three AM, and waking in time for the lunch rush. It was the kind of life led by a young twenty-something fresh out of prison and no one to depend on but numero uno. But this freedom came with a heavy penalty: shame and a light pocketbook.

These days Emma passed the time in her corner booth at Granny's diner. Coffee and The Daily Mirror were her constant companions. She stuck it out there, munching on Granny's charity scraps and browsing the job ads. Sometimes Henry would stop by and hand over a wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich which was not – he repeated not – on account of pity or some failed ploy he may or may have not have carried out one afternoon at the mayor's office.

After two weeks of this, the pitiful glances from diner customers ceased to be a nuisance. That wasn't to say every look from her son didn't make her feel like his knight had let him down. She never did put much stock in that fairy tale book of his, but the last thing she wanted for that kid was disappointment. It's just… he'd look up at her like a morose little corgi and Emma always really had a soft spot for those dogs. She knew Henry was trying his best to cheer her up, but sometimes this situational depression latched onto him as a result. The pity was unintended and it couldn't be helped. It hurt – his sad green eyes she gave him. They twisted the knife his adoptive mother thrust into her back.

"So how's freedom treating you?"

Emma jerked up from the paper to meet the woman sitting into the booth opposite. She rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Sucking me dry."

"Is it really that dire?" Ruby inquired, worried.

"It hasn't gotten bad yet. I'd rather not dip into my savings unless it's absolutely necessary."

"You mean until those tank tops start taking on an off white shade?"

Scowling indignantly, Emma replied, "I still wash my clothes, Ruby. I just have to stick with generic products now."

"Not at the expense of those poor shirts!"

"Hey, I still leave some money on the side to darn my leather jacket."

Folding her arms, Ruby feigned jealousy. "Only because it's your one true love."

"Your sass is not appreciated."

"So sue me." The waitress' eyes widened then as if struck by realization that Emma was near broke. "Oh, wait…"

"Look how supportive you are today."

"Cheer up, girl, or people will start to think you're hanging out with Leroy." A squeal let loose just as Emma's fry sailed a hair's breadth past the target's head. "Missed."

Her next fry was eaten up with a dark expression.

"Well," the tips of red-lacquered fingers held a chin as Ruby procured a solution, "I think the diner could take on another waitress if you're interested. I'm sure Granny wouldn't mind as she already gives you half your lunches for free."

Emma nearly choked on a ketchup slathered fry. "A waitress? Yeah, right."

"What's wrong with waitressing?"

The laugh died in Emma's throat at the result of her immodesty. No doubt, Ruby took pride in earning wages in a job that only required a GED, but the hurt look across her face shattered that.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. It's just… been there done that, you know? And I don't want to compete for tips because we both know who would win that battle."

"I'd play fair," Ruby said, pouting.

"Exactly."

"I don't see what's wrong with trying to get your old job back. The badge suits you."

"Regina fired me, remember? There's no coming back from that."

"So?" It was dismissed with a flick of a wrist. "What is it with this irrational fear of the mayor? She's just a politician with as much baggage as the next townsperson. Do you know about that abandoned manor on the outskirts of town? Rumor has it that a crazy patient escaped from the hospital and holes up at there like Norman Bates. Kids won't go near it and the nuns don't even stop there to sell candles for Miner's Day. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, the mayor. Why are people scared of her? She's not a terrorist or anything."

"According to her kid she's the Evil Queen."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Still?"

Emma nodded, tiredly. "And the whole Fear the Mayor campaign is not entirely baseless. She's clever and can get to anyone."

A red streaked brunette head cocked suspiciously. "What does that mean?"

Emma covered her hesitation with an emphatic shake of the head and, "Nothing."

"Okay," drawled Ruby. "But that can't be the only reason why you're not fighting back. It's not like you to back down. In fact, no one else in this town has your balls in standing up to her. Was being sheriff really that bad?"

"Actually, no."

Emma head lurched back at her own testimony. It came as a surprise how much she missed being sheriff of Storybrooke. After so many years of aimless wandering and low-end jobs that barely paid the rent it was possible that she had found her niche. Not even her stint as a bounty hunter could measure up to the relish she got from patrolling streets and toting the weight of a pistol at her hip. Law enforcement seemed the only honest, rewarding job she ever had. The town respected her even if the mayor didn't. And the kid's association with heroism and sheriffing, though unrealistic, managed to inspire her somewhat.

"So," Ruby shifted in the booth and tipped her head curiously, "what exactly was it that got you fired?"

Emma snorted. "What didn't I do? The woman is impossible to satisfy." In more ways than one, she thought. She rotated her glass of ice water with scrambling fingers. "I'm really not surprised. It was bound to happen sooner or later. She has a death grip on her kid like I'm going to poison his mind or something. Firing me is just the first step in kicking me out of Storybrooke entirely."

Defiant jaw clenching, Ruby leaned forward. "You're not going to let her, are you?"

"Hell, no!"

"See? That's the spirit! God, where has this Emma been?"

"Ruby!" called Granny from the cappuccino machine. "The tables won't serve themselves!"

"Egads!" Ruby grimaced. She shot up to tighten the strings on her apron. "Got to go, Emma. Duty calls!"

"At least you have a duty," mumbled the blonde from her slumped posture. Before her friend got far she snagged a wrist. "Hey, thanks, Ruby. For…" she motioned a finger to the waitress and back to herself to signify the intimacy, the friendship, the encouragement that struck home.

A blush colored Ruby's cheeks and she smiled. "Any time, Sheriff."

Emma laughed. She laughed because she had found a home in Storybrooke. She laughed because friends went out of their way to make her feel good, because she had a son, and he might actually love her despite being an unemployed, irresponsible mess.

But soon the joy waned. The smile died in her eyes at the reminder of what she had to do that day. A flurry of hate and arousal surged in her veins at the person she would suffer eyes upon.


The sheriff's department was just as she had left it two weeks ago. The air had a stale quality, the door hinges needed oiling, and a comfortable silence blanketed the whole building.

A sentimental chill swept through Emma as she walked down the hallway. She would not be welcome anymore, but it felt as much like home as Mary Margaret's apartment. So much had happened here, both good and bad. She remembered the stiff cot she spent her first night on in Storybrooke. She remembered Graham, playing darts, getting drunk, and her crying over his body. She remembered how much free time she had during Ruby's short stint as deputy, how she spent one afternoon doubled over on the couch after one too many bear claws, how Henry took care of her with ginger ale and story time until the mayor came to "save him from the invalid."

The echoes of her footfalls were soon paired with another sound: voices. Emma frowned. As far as she knew Regina had not chosen a replacement and no one else had keys to the office, so why would someone be here? The janitor? It couldn't be because one of the voices was the mayor's and as Emma closed in on the open door it became pretty evident that the other person could not be the janitor.

Grinding to a standstill, Emma's eyes blinked wide.

A throaty laugh bounded off the walls. Perched on one of the desks with one skirted leg crossed over the other, Regina regarded the newly inaugurated sheriff like a hawk would its next meal. Palms splayed behind her, she reclined back in a most comfortable position with barely covered breasts swollen out on display. Taking on a flushed hue herself, Emma made out the tongue snaking out to wet a sumptuously parted mouth. And then she just snapped.

"What the hell is this?"

If Emma wasn't so flustered she would have taken some joy in the surprised jump that came from the mayor. Although, a niggling feeling told her the act did look a bit premature, like Regina anticipated the intrusion.

David whirled around, but was held back by the hand on his shoulder. He was shocked at the disturbance as Emma was by his presence there. He didn't even register the way the backs of his thighs were brushing against the mayor's knees.

"Emma…" he chuckled nervously, recovering from the fright she gave them, "I didn't think I'd be seeing you here today."

Green eyes shifted from the innocence of David to the steely brown eyes gazing from behind. "I could say the same thing about you," she said, meeting Regina's stare.

"Oh, well, you know… Regi – um, Mayor Mills asked me to meet her here to – "

"I bet," Emma interrupted harshly. "I just came here to pick up some of my stuff."

"I am glad you are here, Miss Swan. You can be among the first to bear witness such fine news."

"What?" Emma replied flatly. She already knew what and did not appreciate getting it rubbed in her face, almost literally.

With one hand placed on David's shoulder the other came around to slope down the front of his shirt in a strangely possessive touch. "Meet our new sheriff." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she said it. It was said in challenge, as a taunt, proof of the blonde's inadequacy, any of the above. That one sentence held so much loathing, so much history. Simple words, yet loaded meaning. And David stood oblivious under her hands.

Emma watched the emerald stone ring and the hand it decorated move over flannel. She bit down on the urge to rip it off that scratchy plaid shirt. Emma could deal with a lot of shit the mayor threw at her, but this? Parading her replacement in front of her like a prize? It didn't just make her white hot angry, it… hurt. If this was how Regina wanted her to feel from the start, if this was her plan all along then Emma had to give credit where credit was due – it was nearly enough to run her out of that building and tucking tail out of Storybrooke altogether.

The only thing keeping her there was that self-satisfying smirk. Good enough to slap off that face and just as befitting to slam against Emma's own. It spoke of a delectable blend of hurt and pleasure. Just as well, the smirk let her know the game was far from over. It convinced her of what they had yet to accomplish.

Raw need swirled in her belly. Not the need to finish, because the goal was never as satisfying as the way in which she got there. Emma felt the need to push Regina right back, to test her boundaries and hear the sound of them coming down. To shock propriety on its back or ruin it completely.

Feeling oddly ignored during this silent test of wills, David cleared his throat.

"Congratulations," Emma finally said.

The sting that came with saying it did not hurt as much as she thought it would. Her body responded differently around Regina since their meeting in the forest. She was either numb to everything or over sensitized to the point of arousal. No middle ground existed on this scale. The conditions of her reaction depended entirely upon what shade of red the lips wore or how short those skirts presented.

"… Um…" David's eyes shifted between the two women and the tension that filled the space. He scratched the back of his neck. "… I'm going to go out and grab a coffee. Would you like anything, Madame Mayor?"

Regina's stare with the blonde didn't break. "No, thank you, Sheriff Nolan."

"Okay then."

Snatching his car keys and the shiny new badge as an afterthought, he passed Emma with a meager wave. Too bothered to return the farewell, her attentions lied elsewhere. The outer door clicked shut before Emma walked deeper into the station. Regina never parted from her roosted place on the desk. If anything changed after David's exit it was the increased rise and fall of her chest.

"That was quick."

The mayor's breathing picked up at the break in silence. Sooty lashes fluttered, heels met the floor, and Regina pushed off from the desk. "The position of sheriff is important. Why would I dawdle when the town's safety is in jeopardy?"

"Because Storybrooke has such a high crime rate."

"I do not expect you to understand my point, but maybe that is why you are no longer wearing the badge."

"Let's cut the bullshit," griped Emma. She folded her arms and donned her armor for battle. "You want me to be jealous. Why?"

A dry chuckle pierced the air. Regina's eyes wandered the office boringly. "Dear, I have no interest in making you jealous. I just want you to see what you'll never have with me."

"And what is that?"

For a moment, Regina's mouth turned down, grey and foreboding. It was only a flicker, until it brightened into smile and the upper corner of her lip, where a scar adorned, curled in repulsion. Her eyes, smoldering and searching, zeroed in on Emma's. "If you have to ask," she gave out a guffaw and a shake of the head, "then you never did have a chance."

"It's not my fault you send mixed signals," hissed Emma as she reared forward. "One minute you want me to jump you and the next I'm getting blackmailed!"

"Oh, I was not talking about a chance with me, Miss Swan."

And then it dawned on her. It came like a lightning strike to the heart. How cruel she was, Emma thought. This wasn't just about sex, not by a long shot. Not even the sheriff's position could compare to what the mayor really meant. It was the only thing that could really get to Emma, and Regina knew it.

"I'll never have him with you." Emma's whisper came out stripped and ragged. "I know that. Sharing isn't really your style, after all."

"No, it isn't."

"But I think we both know he's better than both of us put together. He has room for you and me, I'll admit that. Why can't you let him share? Why do you have to force him against me?"

"You are many things, Miss Swan. Parent material is not one of them."

"And David is?" scoffed Emma, "He couldn't find a loose Pongo with two hands and a satellite! Leroy would charm him out of a DUI with a free round! He… he wouldn't bat an eye if he witnessed Mary Margaret commit manslaughter!" Regina raised a brow, detecting the growing possessiveness in the woman's tone. "You want to rely on that kind of guy to save you in a burning building?! Would you trust him with your own kid?!"

"At least he wouldn't poison my son against me!" unleashed Regina. "Or force himself upon me in my own office."

That seemed to sober Emma, despite the working jaw. "I can't stand to even look at you when you bring that shit up."

A hand flourished out. "There's the door, dear. I suggest you use it."

"You know, at first I didn't believe you were actually capable of this kind of cruelty, but then I remembered…" Emma brought her hands roughly to her hips, leading with a shoulder, and shot back, "you're the Evil fucking Queen!"

"Go on and keep thinking so. Shout it from the rooftops for all I care." Regina smirked, delightfully. "I'm sure there's a bed open for you in a particular wing of the hospital."

"Then say goodbye to Henry, because he would be joining me."

"I'd never let anyone take away my child. I don't care what nonsense they spew," said Regina. Her expression blanched, chest heaving brittle under the future of loss. "I will love Henry no matter what he calls me."

"If you care about him at all you will drop this. Burn that tape and any copies you have locked away." Emma licked her lips hesitantly. She dropped her voice to a diplomatic level. "Give me back my job. I'm good at this, Regina, and you know it. If you do all that I'll keep quiet about your desperate little request in the woods… and on that desk of yours."

"You bargain like you have something over me. Have you already forgotten? I am the mayor of this town and hold more power over the people and their goings on than you can imagine. You tried testing me once and look where it got you. I dare you to make another attempt."

Emma froze, astounded, yet feeling a buzz of excitement. "You want to see how far I'll go," she gathered, frown deepening. "That's why you're going to such lengths to get rid of me."

Determined as ever to rid herself of such company, Regina shouldered her purse and slinked on by. She only paused to deliver, "But whoever said I can't enjoy it along the way?" and a sultry wink in parting.