A/N: I really want to warn you guys before reading that this chapter could be really disturbing and triggering for some readers. Police corruption has kind of been a constant theme in this fic, but this chapter specifically deals with police killings - that we see way too many of in present day, any is too many - and I really just want to caution people before reading to prepare themselves if that's a topic that's triggering for you. Your comfort is of utmost importance to me. Please, please don't feel bad if you have to pass up on reading or skim reading it or whatever. Hell, if you PM/DM/Message me on tumblr or whatever just to ask for a basic recap so you don't have to read it I'd understand completely.
I get into more detail (probably more detail than you wanted) in the chapter end notes. So, on that very somber note, I really want to thank you guys for all the incredible feedback I've gotten. Thank you so much for reading.
-/-
Emma sobers up a little bit on the cab ride over to the station. Not completely, but enough so that she's not entirely stumbling in her effort to get through the doorway.
She does almost trip over the door jam, though. And Emma tries to push instead of pull the door to get inside. The night isn't full of her finest moments, admittedly. It gets worse when she spots of the reasons that the hates coming here in the first place.
"Jesus, you're still here?" Emma asks in disgust upon seeing Albert. "I thought your decrepit ass would have retired by now."
He opens his mouth to retort, but she cuts him off before he has the chance.
"Yeah, you can't fire me anymore. Where's David?"
Lancelot, who looks as if he's attempting to choke back his laughter as best as he can, answers her from a nearby desk. "He's in the filing room. You know where it is."
"Yup. Thanks."
Albert is still struggling to come up with a reply when she leaves.
Idiot.
-/-
"We need to talk," Emma announces when she walks into the room.
David is elbows deep in old evidence files (you would think with the invention of crazy holographic ghosts bureaucracy would upgrade, and yet...) and he doesn't even look up from what's in front of him.
"We need to talk," she repeats, again.
Still no response.
Emma grabs a nearby pipe - conveniently placed on top of the desk David is sitting at. "Hey, we need to talk!" she shouts, punctuating each word with a clang of the pipe against the metal door.
"Emma, good lord, that's evidence in a trial!"
"Yeah, well, it got your attention," Emma shrugs, dropping the aforementioned pipe as casually as possible. It clangs to the ground. "Trials are bullshit farces. It's kind of weird to leave that hanging out in the open, anyway."
David gives her a long suffering sigh, putting his head in his hands and rubbing at his eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened with Gold's case, but normally people don't decide to take random objects and hammer them against the nearest door."
"And normally people's brothers don't give them the silent treatment when they're 30, but we're defying convention a lot lately."
A beat of silence passes. David stares at his shoes and his face flushes in embarrassment. He opens his mouth as if to reply, but no sound comes out.
Emma huffs. "I came here to apologize."
"Then we really must be defying convention," David notes, sounding deceptively light.
"Don't be a dick. I thought about what you said, about fear making us do stupid shit and I had this conversation with an eleven year old named Henry and I just left this weird voicemail to Whale-"
"Why were you talking to an eleven year old? And a whale? Good lord, Emma, how drunk are you?"
She waves him off easily. "That's not really relevant to the story. Anyway, I can't make decisions for you, I get that. It's unfair for me to want to wrap my brother in bubble wrap in an underground bunker to the detriment of the people who need his help."
David's mouth quirks, at that. "Bubble wrap?"
"That shit is expensive these days, honestly the apology is more economical than moral," she quips and he finally gives her a full blown smile, "I'm sorry you lost the election and I'm sorry I ignored you."
"You're forgiven," David says and, judging by the look on his face, he means it. "I understand why you reacted the way you did, after what happened to Graham. I do. I just think of all the other people who could suffer the same fate as Graham and the people like Arthur who get away with it if there aren't people to do something about it."
"People like you," Emma observes.
"People like us," David corrects.
He gets up to hug her. She lets him.
"I think I might have just gotten you fired, though, I was brutal to Albert when I walked in," she mutters, wrapping her arms around his back.
"If they could fire me, you know they would have a long time ago. I think they're just afraid of Ingrid, at this point."
Emma grimaces against his shoulder, leaning back to face him. "Remind me to talk to you about that."
He nods. "Can you explain the eleven year old thing to me, first?"
"Right after I throw up in the nearest trash can."
"You should really drink less. I'm gonna need an explanation for the whale, too."
"I'm starting to miss the silent treatment."
-/-
Emma skims the files of Gold's case a few days later, wondering how psychologically healthy it is to soak in her failures.
Not very, is the likely answer.
She may have been able to patch up her relationship with David, but she isn't sure how to reverse her last - and possibly greatest - fuck up of letting Whale and her best chance at taking down Gold slip through her fingers. At this point, Emma doesn't think she can.
All the same, she finds some pertinent information.
"Son of a bitch," Emma murmurs.
-/-
"You know, breaking and entering is a felony," Ingrid says, almost sounding bored at discovering her daughter in her office.
Emma shrugs, looking up from the latest issue of the Storybrooke Mirror on Ingrid's glass desk (which must have cost a fortune, given the thing is completely paperless and touch screen and whatever else). "What, are you going to press charges?"
Ingrid frowns. "Keep it up and I might."
"What didn't you tell me?" Emma asks, snatching the document she's splayed on Ingrid's desk. "Hm?"
Ingrid takes a look at it and sighs. "I didn't think it was very relevant to the investigation."
"Not very rele-" Emma cuts herself off, resisting the urge to thump her head against the very expensive desk. "Ingrid, Gold almost settled with you for hundreds of thousands out of court."
"I wanted a guilty verdict," Ingrid supplies, matter-of-factly. "That wasn't enough. I needed a leg in if we decided to go any further in prosecuting Gold. Maybe we could have charged him with his wife's murder, with that and a little more digging."
Emma gapes. "You picked integrity over money, huh?"
Ingrid gives her a self-defeating shrug. "I'm not proud of what I've done, Emma. I'm not happy to see Tolemac out on the streets. I want to help these people because it's the right thing to do."
Emma scoffs. "Yeah, well, the dead will rise before that happens."
"They already have." Ingrid replies candidly. "Isn't that the point, here?"
Emma just raises her eyebrows in response.
-/-
A few nights later, there are reports of a shooting near 81st Street.
She hears it on the scanner, which she keeps on as background noise in her office, sometimes. Emma is a creature of habit, as much as she pretends not to be. The static is familiar, the calls are familiar, and maybe she's been keeping it on more and more just because it makes her feel better about David being out there. It makes her feel safer. It makes her feel more in control. And control, where the state of things is rocky and unpredictable and sometimes deadly, is a commodity as precious as they come.
But Emma hears officer involved shooting over the radio and her blood runs cold.
-/-
Emma storms into the police station and nearly cries in relief when she spots David at his desk, greeting him with a fierce hug.
"Whoa, Emma," David exclaims, his arms wrapping around her body to keep her in place. "I'm not complaining, but do you want to explain?"
"I heard officer involved shooting," Emma gasps out, releasing him. "You want to tell me what the hell happened?"
David's expression turns grim. "It's...Tolemac. He shot a kid, barely seventeen. Says he tried to pull a weapon, which I doubt. I was just about to head over there to see what the hell happened."
"Oh my God," Emma replies, horrified. "Is the kid okay?"
"Dead on arrival," Lancelot answers, walking up to stand next to the two of them. He sounds like a combination of sad and frustrated and his voice cracks as he finishes the sentence. "Kid never stood a chance."
Emma's eyes turn to Albert, who seems unconcerned by the happenings around him in his desk.
"You proud of yourself, Spencer?" Emma asks, livid, propping (slamming) her hands on the other side of his desk. "This is the result of what you've let happen. You know that."
"It's us against them," Albert shrugs, sounding perfectly comfortable. "All we're trying to do is our jobs."
"Arthur have you believing that?" David sneers, fists clenching. Emma hasn't seen him this angry since Graham died. Hell, she hasn't seen Lancelot or herself this angry since either. Hearing about the callous murder of innocent people will do that to you, even if it's a kid you don't know. "It's not 'us against them', Albert. It's 'we pledged to protect these people and we need to do that instead of saving our own asses'."
Albert snorts. "Yeah, you can tell yourself that when they come at you with pitchforks."
Lancelot stops in his track out the door abruptly and turns to face him. "Explain what you mean by 'they', Albert. You seem so fond of the word."
"Don't twist my words."
"You're the one who said it," Emma points out, meeting him with a glare.
"Oh, please," Albert retorts, "Go back to whatever hellhole you're calling a P.I. office. You quit. You revoked the right to be here."
"Hey! Watch your mouth, Spencer," David growls. "She's with me."
Albert rolls his eyes dramatically. "Dragging your kid sister around had to get old in kindergarten, Nolan. No point in continuing that now, don't you have a career to protect?"
David opens his mouth to reply, but Emma only raises her hand in front of him in a gesture for him to stop.
"Yeah, and so do you," Emma retorts at Albert. "You may not be sherriff anymore but standing idly by when the new sheriff shoots an innocent kid is hardly legacy building."
"And he was hardly innocent," Albert shrugs.
Emma wants to strangle him so badly her hands start shaking. "I know he has less blood on his hands than you do. Tell me, what does enabling a murderer time and time again feel like? Does it give you a rush?"
"She's right," Lancelot adds, stiffly. "You and Tolemac have pulled this shit long enough."
"I can't fire her, but I'm sure Arthur can fire you two," Albert replies angrily, pointing fingers at both Lancelot and David.
"Fire me too," Gwen, another deputy, chimes in. She got hired only shortly before Emma left, but she honestly has never had a bad word to say about the woman. Gwen is smart, driven, and - right now - a goddamn hero. "I'd rather lose my job than see more families lose their kids."
Albert turns to look at her, eyes narrowing. "You've got some nerve-"
"You know what?" Robin interrupts, a recent transfer from a nearby town. "Please, go ahead and fire me while you're at it."
"And me," Marian adds, sitting on top of a nearby desk. Marian, tough as hell while still having a heart of gold, is the type of cop that almost makes Emma regret quitting. "Whoops. It looks like that's almost your entire department, Albert. An old sheriff a beat away from retirement and a murderer will be some of the only people left on the force."
"Best of luck with that," Lancelot shrugs.
Emma has to grin at the group of them and the increasingly red Albert. He walks out of the room, angrily muttering something about insubordination and ungrateful brats.
None of them look bothered by it in the slightest.
She has never respected a group of people more.
-/-
They find Tolemac, rambling next to where they dragged the body away. The paramedics came as soon as they could - before Lancelot and David came out - but, of course, Arthur waited a full five minutes after shooting to even call it in.
He's pacing back and forth, almost manically. There's something deeply unsettling about his body language and the dead look in his eyes.
That, and the literal blood on his hands.
"Hey, asshole," Emma yells, by way of greeting.
Arthur takes a minute to realize there's another person there.
"What? You decided you missed the first time and wanted to hit the right target the second?"
"Killing Graham was an accident," he says.
Emma can tell he's telling the truth.
But that doesn't make it any better.
"But killing the shoplifting teenager wouldn't have been, huh?" she finishes. "Just like you killed Billy Gust. Congratulations, you're not just an everyday murderer. You're also a racist one."
She waits for him to recite the party line she knows is already scripted for him. Self defense, Billy could have had a gun, the list goes on.
Emma remembers enough of them from the first goddamn trial.
(Thanks, mom.)
"Death is only temporary," Arthur states, offhandedly. He's still pacing. It's unnerving her, "You know that. A gift Gold has given us, now. The families get to talk to their son, he stops committing crimes and a thief is off the streets, blah, blah, blah. Everyone wins."
At first, all Emma can do is gape.
Then she punches him in the face. A cracking noise follows.
"You delusional piece of shit."
Arthur puts his hand to his bloody nose, horrified. "You just assaulted a police officer."
"Yeah, well, you killed one."
"Emma," David rushes in, out of breath, "What the hell are you doing?"
"What I should have done a long time ago," Emma mutters, blinded by rage. She lunges only to be met by David's arms.
David pries her away from Arthur, who scuttles on the concrete in the other direction, arms wound tight around her waist. Lancelot appears right behind him, shortly after.
She struggles against David's grip. "Let go of me. This has nothing to do with you."
"Yes, it does," David states, out of breath thanks to the exertion it takes to keep her still. "Don't give him what he wants, Emma.
Emma huffs, shaking her limbs out.
Maybe that wasn't the wisest decision, but it was a satisfying one.
"Emma," Lancelot groans, looking up to the sky in frustration. "We're going to have to arrest you."
She sighs, holding her wrists out for him to cuff her. "Assaulting a police officer. I have a right to remain silent, a right to an attorney, etcetera. I'm allowed to find it ironic that I'm the one being arrested when I'm not the one who just killed a kid, right?"
"Trust me," Lancelot mutters darkly. "We're working on that."
-/-
It isn't the first time she's been in jail. Honestly, she doubts it will be the last. The only benefit here that she can think of is that this time she's not pregnant.
Emma lifts her head up from the pillow, after resolving to stay in the damn cell however long it took to prove her point, when she hears a rattling on the other side of the cell.
"Your bail was posted," Gwen announces to Emma through the bars.
Emma raises an eyebrow. She's a bail bondsperson - well, partly. She knows how much bail costs, and assaulting a cop is hefty on the fines. David and Mary Margaret are on government salaries, plus it would look bad for any of David's future prospects if he bailed out a cop puncher.
Even if the cop was a murderer and the puncher was his sister.
"By who?"
"Your mother."
Emma's head bumps against the wall above the bed, "Shit."
Gwen sighs sympathetically. "You did the right thing, you know."
Emma's brow furrows. "Committing a felony?"
"Breaking his nose," Gwen replies, curtly. "Only thing that would have been better is if you aimed for the balls."
"I'll keep that in mind," Emma says, her respect for the woman growing by the second. "I wish we worked more together before…"
"Murder number one?" Gwen supplies, meeting Emma's eyes with a steely gaze before gesturing for her to leave the cell. "Yeah, me too. You were a good cop, you know. Even in the short time that we did work together, I knew that."
Emma's lips twitch as she stands up to leave. "Thanks. Now I guess I should deal with the devil and see what part of my afterlife is getting signed away."
"Best of luck," Gwen tells her, not unkindly.
-/-
"You shouldn't have done that," Emma says as she walks past Ingrid, "It's going to take me forever to pay you back."
"Well, then," Ingrid replies, perfectly calm. The sound of her heels on the linoleum speed up a little as she attempts to keep up with Emma's strides. "Don't pay me back."
"I'm paying you back."
"It wasn't a loan," Ingrid corrects her, yet again, "You were in jail. I got you out of it. I dealt with the charges, too, so you won't have to worry about them. I don't think Tolemac is going to be in a real position to pursue them right now, anyway."
"Well next time," Emma says the words sharply, pushing open the door to leave the building. Ingrid follows her into the parking lot. "Don't bother. It can't be good for business to be seen bailing out the woman who beat the shit out of your client, anyway."
"Former client," Ingrid corrects.
Emma snorts derisively. "That is until he needs a lawyer and the union pays you even more."
"I regret it, Emma," Ingrid replies, growing more and more frustrated, "Is that what you want to hear? How can I make this right?
"You want to make it right?" Emma asks, spinning around to face her. The cold air is stinging her face, but she's a little beyond caring. "You want to attone for your sins? How about you use your job for good, like the mother I used to know. And not just for one case that you can personally fucking relate to. Permanently. Because I can tell you right now that there's a family that is left in the goddamn wake of the man you set loose."
Emma walks the rest of the way to her car and slams the door shut once she's inside.
Ingrid is still standing in the parking lot when she leaves.
-/-
When Emma gets to the station, David is comforting a sobbing woman. It looks like it's Billy's mother.
Her words seem to confirm that.
"They were supposed to keep him safe," she cries, over and over again, into David's shoulder. "He was a good boy. You have to believe me."
"I do," David replies resolutely. "I swear to you, I do. And we're going to do everything in our power to make sure nothing like this ever happens again, Martha."
"I don't know if this will make you feel any better," Emma says after a beat of silence, with a self-deprecating shrug, "but I think I broke Tolemac's nose."
"You did," David answers, leaning back. She can tell he's fighting the urge to sound satisfied.
"I want him in prison for what he's done," Martha Gust murmurs into her tissue, "Anything short of that isn't justice. This can't happen to any more of our children."
Emma nods solemnly and her resolve steels.
"I promise you, I'll - we will - do everything we can to make sure it doesn't happen again. It's gone on for too long," Lancelot adds, ambling up in front of them to join the conversation, "Way too damn long."
Marian comes over with another box of tissues and Martha gives her a shaky smile in thanks.
Emma has spent long enough being selfish and self-destructive when it comes to helping people. Past a point, she has to suck it up and try to find the person she used to be. It isn't just about her anymore. It's not even just about Graham anymore. It's about human beings who need help. Emma can stay bitter and angry and lick her wounds in private for the rest of her life or she can be the person she used to dream of being.
It's a hard choice, but that doesn't mean she can avoid making it.
-/-
Emma turns on the news once she gets home, groaning when it's revealed that even national media isn't allowing her to escape from this.
"We've identified the police officer involved in this case as Arthur Tolemac, the sheriff of a small town called Storybrooke, Maine. He, interestingly enough, has had previous charges levied against him for the killing of another police officer, Graham Humbert, but those charges were ultimately dropped."
"Well, John," one of the commentators replies with a heavy sigh, "this is an all too familiar story for us. Another unarmed black teenager killed by the police. And in the past decade, it's only gotten worse. Body cameras are now universal, but even with that kind of evidence you don't see a lot of prosecutors - let alone juries - willing to convict a police officer. And all too often, you're seeing this - what we refer to as - blue wall of silence with their colleagues."
Maybe with Albert, Emma thinks, eyeing the screen. And any delusional assholes in the department sociopathic enough to be chummy with Arthur in the first place.
"Storybrooke's police department seems to be having an interesting response, however," the commentator continues. "The area's police union released a statement, backing Tolemac's use of force. The former sheriff - Albert Spencer - sent out a press release saying that he's sure when things get resolved it will prove Tolemac's innocence. The rest of the cops, though..."
The news anchor replies quickly, "There are a few police officers in the department who are really looking at this and saying, you know what, this isn't right. David Nolan - who just lost the sheriff race not too long ago against Tolemac called him quote 'cowardly and a disgrace to those who serve to protect every community' on his Facebook account. Lancelot DuLac, a deputy on the force, called it 'consistent with Arthur Tolemac's pattern of violence and hate'. A few other deputies...actually, almost every other deputy on the force has posted something similar."
"Didn't Nolan's sister - a former deputy for the Storybooke Police Department - get arrested a few days ago for punching Tolemac?" a different commentator asks, interrupting.
The anchor shakes his head, quickly. "Those reports are unconfirmed. We want to be cautious with our reporting before we start -"
"We have video of that, actually," the second commentator interrupts. "I'm sure the network can-"
Sure enough, video of Emma swinging her fist and Arthur collapsing to the ground appears on screen. It looks like it's from David's body camera, if the angle is anything to go by.
Emma tilts her head to the side, studying the fuzzy footage.
Her form was kind of all over the place with that punch. She'll blame the anger for that.
"We can get video of that but not of the murder of Billy Gust," the first commenter notes sardonically as the tape rolls. "And people wonder why there are protests."
Emma furrows her eyebrows at the thought.
She tugs her laptop out, fingers moving rapidly on the keys until she finds what she's looking for. The information, thankfully, is readily available. That is, if you know where to look.
Numerous requests were filed for the city of Storybrooke to release the body camera footage of Arthur Tolemac. And they were kind of filled.
They were just missing a large chunk of the night. One that happened to coincide with the block of time in which Billy Gust was killed. A technological issue that only seemed to affect just that hour. The mayor's office was responsible for its release and, surprise surprise, this was all they offered the public.
You would think they'd try to be more subtle.
Emma thumbs over Regina's campaign records, just to be safe. She doesn't know how much she's going to find digging into her who fundraised for her years ago, but…
One of her top donors in the mayoral race is the very same donor that was attached to Storybrooke's police union, a few state legislature's campaigns, and numerous other political offices - Gold's shady For a More Advanced Maine organization. She shouldn't be surprised in the least, all things considered.
Emma thinks about this, for a moment. Then she sits up from her desk, grabs her jacket, and slams the door behind her.
-/-
"Your police force is in fucking tatters and people are - rightly - pissed," Emma starts as soon as she enters the mayor's office. "And rumor has it, your staff is trying to cover this shit up."
"Excuse me?" the mayor looks up, disgruntled by the interruption, "You shouldn't be here. Security!"
Emma shuts the door behind her and locks it with only an exaggerated sigh. "I'm only going to say this once: I have evidence that your staff tried to hide body camera video and I will not hesitate to go to the press with it if you don't listen to me. Fire Arthur Tolemac and do a full investigation of the police department. See to it that everyone accountable has charges slapped on them - starting with Tolemac and ending with Spencer, which you should be able to do just fine once you release the goddamn evidence."
Regina blinks rapidly. "Let me get this straight: you want to come in here and tell me how to do my job? And you're trying to blackmail me to do it?"
"Yup," Emma nods, undeterred, "and you're going to do it."
"You're bluffing," Regina narrows her eyes. "Even if you aren't, I don't care."
Emma sighs. "Suit yourself."
"I'm just trying to do my job." Regina replies testily.
"Yeah?" she asks rhetorically, "I've heard that a lot lately and reply has always been the same: try doing it less shittily."
Regina seethes, standing up from her seat at her desk. "You've got some nerve."
"Then it won't be out of character for me to leak the proof to the media and see your ass recalled. I would've done that anyway, to be honest, but I wanted to see Arthur's slimey ass fired first. I think I'll take some pleasure in seeing you gone, anyway. Say hi to Robert Gold for me."
The expression on Regina Mills' face can only be described as pure dread.
Emma slams the door on her way out, the security guard outside the door looking baffled as she strides past him.
"Ma'am," he tries calling after her.
"Suggestion, pal," she shouts over her shoulder. "Find a new job. I don't think you'll have this one for much longer."
-/-
Emma keeps her promise and sends the documentation to a few media outlets. They have a field day and the people get - understandably - even more upset at another sign of corruption in the government in their town. Protests spread to Regina's front door.
The mayor resigns the next day.
Emma can't say she's sad to see her go.
-/-
"I heard Tolemac is taking a leave of absence," Emma says in lieu of greeting when a weary looking David walks into her office.
"Paid. He's literally being paid to do nothing after he killed someone," David groans in exasperation, hand scrubbing at his face. "I feel so bad for Billy's mother. To see that man walk free as if nothing happened, as if he didn't kill her son like it was nothing. I thought after Graham that it couldn't get any worse, but now I… the power went even more to his head. I should have predicted this."
Emma raises her eyebrows. "Are you seriously blaming yourself for this?"
"It's the job of good cops to make sure that bad cops don't get away with doing bad things," David says, simply. "The second that stops being the case - we see cases like Billy's. We see teenagers shot in the street and people like Tolemac walk. It's been this way. Not just in the past ten years, in the history of any police force. It's disgusting."
She frowns, nodding her head in understanding. "It does just make you sick, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," he says, uncharacteristically short.
"We're going to see Tolemac convicted, you know," Emma says, folding her hands in her lap. "And Spencer, for that matter, for enabling this kind of bullshit. The mayor is out. We'll get a new one, a better one. They'll fire those two and the department will pursue charges. I trust our D.A. Kathryn knows what she's doing. She's smart, she's shrewd, and she doesn't take any shit. We'll get an indictment from a grand jury and a guilty verdict from a jury and, hopefully, those two assholes will spend the rest of their lives behind bars."
David looks surprised at her statement. "Optimism. I never that I'd see that coming out of your mouth."
"Yeah, that's how you know things are shitty," Emma replies sardonically, "I sound like the optimistic one between the two of us."
"You used to sound like that more often," David comments, "before."
"Arthur's first murder? I'm not letting you become as jaded as I am," Emma mutters, flipping through the paperwork in her lap. Henry's birth records are uncommonly difficult to wade through, the mother must have requested a closed adoption. Multitasking is a pain in the ass but she made the kid a promise. "I have enough bitterness for the both of us."
"Now I'm beginning to understand why," David replies, running his hands through his hair. "Do you really think another mayor would make a difference?"
Emma shrugs. "Maybe. Right now I'm choosing to believe that because I know that's what you would believe. And right now, someone needs to fill that role."
David stares, blankly, at the desk
"You want to know what a few people in city council asked me?"
Emma looks up. "What?"
"If I…" he clears his throat, sounding like he's in disbelief before he even starts talking. "They need an interim mayor. Someone that the community can recognize."
A wide smile spreads on her lips. "Someone they can trust."
David shakes his head, hands covering his face. "I'm not nearly qualified enough for this…"
"As long as you don't cover up a murder, I think you'll be a large step up from the last one," Emma replies easily.
"I'm serious, Emma."
"And I'm serious," she retorts, back straightening. "David, you're exactly the kind of person this town needs right now."
"Emma," he says, pleadingly, "you have to understand. The people of this town have suffered enough. And the leadership here hasn't helped that in the slightest. Hell, it's the leadership in this town that screws people over. The person to help heal this community isn't someone who doesn't know what he's doing."
"This town needs a good leader, right?" Emma asks, matter of factly.
"Yes," David answers, sounding exasperated.
"Show them what a good leader looks like," Emma says, looking at David with more conviction than she thought herself capable of. "Take the damn job. You know what you need to do, now do it."
David doesn't reply immediately.
Just leans back and looks like he's considering it.
Emma stands up a little abruptly, her thoughts taking her to yet another task at hand.
"Hey - wait - where are you going?" David asks, confused.
"I have unfinished business to take care of," she calls over her shoulder.
-/-
Some people say that adrenaline makes people do stupid shit. That may be true. Actually, Emma thinks, it's definitely true.
For the wealthiest man in this God forsaken town, Gold's security is absolute shit. Emma takes a grand total of five minutes to get into his office and the place is more obnoxious than Ingrid's, if that's possible. It looks bigger than her entire apartment.
It's as if he's trying to compensate for something, she thinks. It could be a small penis, it could be psychopathy, or it could be a combination of the two.
(Her bet is the third. Psychopathy has to be involved in there, somewhere.)
The door opens around thirty minutes after she sits down in his seat.
"How did you get in here?" Gold asks, coolly.
Emma lazily props her boots up on his desk (it looks like it's touchscreen, but she's not here to preserve his goddamn toys). "I learned how to pick locks when I was sixteen. Your door doesn't have one of those handy swipe-things. Told your guards that there was a man outside trying to break in and they ran in that direction. You really need better security. You don't know what kind of people could get into a place like this."
Gold lifts his chin, looking unphased. "I know who you are, Emma Swan."
She balks.
"What? Do you honestly believe I'm not mindful of the people tracking me? Sticking their nose where it doesn't belong? Trying to burn down what I've painstakingly built?"
"You built all that on a pile of corpses," she retorts angrily. "Literally!"
"I'm giving people the opportunity to talk to the people they've lost," Gold replies, unruffled as ever. "Explain to me how that makes me such a bad man, Miss Swan."
"Should I start naming people who are dead because of you?" she replies, incredulous. "Billy Gust - thanks to your generous campaign donations to the guy who killed him, Sydney Boyd, Mi-"
Gold tuts disapprovingly. "Ah, you know what they say about those who make baseless assumptions."
"I'm glad you know who I am," Emma snarls, rising to eye level with him. "That way you remember my name when I take you down. I don't give a damn who you are or what you do, I'm not afraid of you."
He sets both of his hands on his desk, leaning over to her in what she's sure is supposed to be a gesture of intimidation. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Miss Swan."
Emma is done being fucking intimidated. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."
She leaves without another word.
-/-
A news broadcast filters over the cramped diner when she's waiting for David.
"In an unexpected turn of events, Deputy David Nolan, who you may remember ran for Sheriff a few weeks ago, will be inaugurated as the interim mayor in Regina Mills' place this afternoon. In related news, Storybrooke's new district attorney - Kathryn Midas - is pursuing charges against Sheriff Arthur Tolmac and former Sheriff Albert Spencer for the killing of a local teen. The two are currently on paid leave and it's expected that the new Mayor Nolan will be asking for their resignation."
Good news. For once the arc of justice is pointed towards the good side.
(Let Gold try it with her - she's ready.)
David texts her to let her know he's going to be a little bit late - something about an interview with the Misthaven Journal - and she toys with the phone in her hands for a minute. Everything that's been going on the past few days has been making her wistful.
She sighs, pressing a name she hasn't in awhile. It goes straight to voicemail.
"Hey, Killian, it's um...it's me. I thought about what you said and...yeah, I can't do this over a voicemail. Just call me back, when you get the chance?" she fumbles over her words, unsure of what even to say. "A lot of things have changed, since you left. Everything that's been happening...Call me back."
"Who was that?" David asks, sliding into the opposite side of the booth.
Emma pretends to look around at the diner in wonderment. "The mayor! In this fine eating establishment? My, my, my - I think myself and my fellow Granny's patrons should be thanking all the stars in the un-"
David rolls his eyes. "Just because you're my sister doesn't mean I will not leave you in this diner all alone."
Emma sighs melodramatically. "First day in office and he's already drunk on power. It really does corrupt."
"Absolute power corrupts," David corrects.
"And it corrupts absolutely."
"Which brings me to the next order of business," David replies with a grin, "both as mayor and as your brother."
"You're giving me a key to the city for best pictures busting people doing it at the Holiday Inn on 14th Street?" Emma mimes looking emotional at the thought, fanning her face with her hand. "Damn it, David, you shouldn't have."
He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You're really going to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?"
"What else are sisters for?" she asks, looking supremely satisfied with herself.
"The point is… now that I've taken on the role of mayor, Storybrooke needs a new sheriff," David tells her, a grin tugging on his lips. He pulls a familiar sheriff's badge from his pocket and deposits it on top of the table. "One who can guide the department to a change to new and better policing. One who has experience on the force and who is tough enough to deal with whatever comes her way."
The grin slips off her face pretty quickly after that.
"David," Emma cautions, "you can't be asking this of me."
"Show them what a good leader looks like," he quotes, "take the damn job."
She frowns. "What about Lancelot? He's much more qualified than I am."
David shakes his head. "He said - and I quote - 'I would rather do literally anything else rather than be in charge of a bunch of underpaid fools with guns'. I asked him, repeatedly. He refused...repeatedly."
"Marian?"
"Didn't want the job."
"Gwen?"
"Told me I should ask you and she was right."
Emma groans, staring at the badge on the table.
"I'm not even a cop anymore."
"But you were," David presses, "and you can be again. This isn't about you or me anymore, Emma. It's about what the people need. And what they need, who they need, is someone like you. Someone tough, someone smart, someone who won't let anyone - no matter who they are - get away with any crap."
Emma stares at him for a long while, toying with the thought.
Sheriff Swan does have a nice, alliterative ring to it.
-/-
A/N: Be warned, this might actually be the longest author's note in the history of the world. You can skip over this if you want, of course, but I really wanted to take a minute to talk specifically about Tolemac (Camelot backwards, btw, if you're wondering why I chose such a weird last name for Arthur) in the broader context beyond this fic.
I was really hesitant at first about including the shooting and seeing something we already see way too fucking often in present day real life in a fic set a decade in the future. You read fic for escapism and to unwind, not to be reminded of how shitty the world already is. I also was really concerned about doing it justice and having it not come off as something that I'm just writing for kicks as a plot device. But, one of my greatest grievances with some dystopian novels, a lot of science fiction, etc. is that in serving their purpose to highlight how problems are going to fuck us over in the future, they gloss over present day issues - from sexism, ableism, homophobia, to racism. Things that OUAT disappoints me with too - HONESTLY with the Milah murder apologism, missing hand jokes, barely being able to put in plain text Mulan's sexuality, and killing off most of your characters of color, A&E. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS.
I've tried to stress a lot of issues that don't magically disappear in a decade in the future when highlighting the worst of humanity and privilege and the general feeling of hopelessness. It seemed like a disservice to me to make police corruption such a central theme in this fic and not address a major element of it: the fact that shitty police officers can time and time again get away with the murder of black teenagers. And along with that, the fact that if other police officers and people in positions of power do not hold bad cops accountable that this shit will never change. And while this is the catalyst for Emma and David to step up to the plate and take their positions of leadership in the community more seriously, it's not just a cheap vehicle for their character development. It's a horrible crime that deserves to be taken seriously, by these characters and in real life.
Basically, it's not just a plot point that I decided on doing for cheap drama and I really don't take this lightly at all. As a white woman, it is absolutely unquestionable that I benefit from white privilege and that it's easy for me to write about this in a fictional context and completely separated from what the families of victims have to go through. I don't see it as a cool plot twist, I don't see it just as a vehicle for the character development of white characters, and - again - I do not take it lightly at all. I wrote it because I thought it was important, because I thought it was relevant to the story I'm trying to tell, and because the issue of police corruption doesn't just impact other police officers and I honestly feel like it'd be, frankly, dishonest of me to portray it that way.
(And if you're troubled by the portrayal of police brutality in this fic because you think it shows the cops as bad guys or whatever and serve me some All Lives Matter bullshit, do not even boooooother reading or reviewing this fic ever again tbh.)
If you're looking for great causes to donate to in the new year, Black Lives Matter organizations would be a great start.
Thanks for reading. Next chapter should be up soon. (It's lighter, I swear.)