A/N: First of all, thank you guys so, so, so much for the incredible feedback. It means the world to me. It's so weird to think that there's only one chapter left to post after this. Hopefully it finishes strong! Warnings for references to death, an attempted murder, etc.
-/-
For a few weeks, things seem to truly be working out. Emma, against all apparent odds, loves her job more than she's ever loved any job she's ever had. Her team is amazing and the pay is a big improvement from her prior gig. David and Mary Margaret invite her to dinner on a regular basis and she actually comes, bringing Henry along with her. As far as Henry goes, she couldn't ask for a better kid. They go for ice cream, to the zoo, and all of the other things that Ingrid always used to do with her when she was younger. Being a mom is sometimes hair-pulling and stressful, but at the end of the day Emma can't believe she went so long without him.
Her and Killian have been edging into something like a friendship, falling into one as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It's not as if there aren't still the longing looks and obvious attraction between the two of them anymore. It's just that Emma can't afford to take that risk (again) yet. He seems to get that without her saying anything, thanks to the non-verbal communication they seem to have. It's much better than their verbal communication skills with each other, anyway.
He comes to her place and sometimes they go to his, both promising movies and lunch and other things that Normal Friends do. Killian and Henry get along like a house on fire, which is another reason that she can't afford to rewind and start again like nothing has changed. A lot has, even over such a short span of time. They both have. Killian is less agitated by revenge and Emma has been introduced to a lot more stabilizing factors than strained family dynamics and a general disdain for the universe.
(But sometimes those goodbye hugs linger for a little too long and his hand strokes through her hair and hers falls into the curve of his back and shoulder, resting on the familiar planes of his body and -
Maybe feelings haven't changed as much as circumstances have.)
-/-
But, of course, Emma isn't allowed peace for too long. Not even when she's driving her kid to school.
These incidents never really time up great for her, even if she isn't sure if there's ever a good time for someone to shoot a bullet into your goddamn car.
Emma hears the shot ring out and ducks to shield Henry's body with hers. She feels the glass on her back and thanks whatever higher power is out there that she wears her leather jacket so damn often.
She hears the sound of someone running shortly after.
"Damn it," Emma mutters, slowly edging her body up to look out of her - now ruined - window. "They ran away."
"Mom?" Henry whispers, eyes wide and fearful. "What's going on?"
Emma exhales, a little shakily, and grabs his shoulders in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture. "Stay here and hide until you hear Elsa come, okay? Do not let anyone see you."
After scanning the area to make sure it was a lone shooter, she quickly texts Elsa the address with instructions to get Henry the hell out of there. Cop sirens would chase the guy off even further and Elsa is closer, anyway.
"Where are you going?" Henry asks, concerned.
"I'm going to deal with what just happened," she mutters grimly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Be safe, kiddo."
Emma leaves the car before he has a chance to reply.
She should win mother of the year, really, almost getting him killed so soon after she gets custody of him. Maybe she was right when she was seventeen - Emma has no idea how to be a mother, even at 28. All she knows how to do is get people hurt.
But, goddamn it, if she's all Henry has she'll give him everything she has. He deserves nothing less than that.
It's that thought that motivates her to run after where she heard the shooter flee. She winds up in a desolated alley, the suspected shooter at the end of it.
The guy is shaking and terrified, gun still in his hand and eyeing his surroundings with manic anxiety.
Emma groans.
She knows an addict when she sees one.
"What kind of person shoots into a car that he knows a kid is in?" Emma asks rhetorically, hands firm on her gun.
The man doesn't respond, just stares at her and shakes.
Emma sighs in exasperation. "Drop the gun. I will when you will, alright?"
"You don't understand," he mutters, as if to himself. "You don't know."
There's a tense pause between the two of them for a minute.
"A desperate one," Emma finishes, "I asked you what kind of person tries to pull that kind of shit and the answer is a desperate one. Gold sent you, didn't he?"
The man nods, wordlessly.
The gun clatters to the ground. Emma breathes a sigh of relief and puts hers in her holster.
"Are there any more of you?"
"No."
He's telling the truth.
"My son," he whispers the words, barely audible. "My son is dead."
"Yeah, well," Emma replies stoically. "That doesn't mean you come after mine."
"How old is he?" the man wonders aloud.
"Eleven," she replies, voice hard. "His name is Henry. He loves superhero comics. His favorite color is green. You almost put a fucking bullet in his head. Anything else you want to know?"
"I just want to see my son," he says, with a sob. "This is the only way. I sold everything - the house, my car, and my shop. I have nothing left. Just him."
"And Gold told you that you could see him as much as you wanted if you came after me," she finishes, grimly.
"His name was August," he explains with a desolate stare. "He was about the age of your boy. He died in a car accident two years ago."
"You must have been pretty close. Any other family?"
"No. Just him."
Emma's expression hardens. "Then you should know damn well that Gold's fucking hologram isn't your son."
Her phone vibrates and Emma lets out the breath she's been holding. Elsa came. Henry will be safe.
At the sound, the man becomes more startled and twitches as if he's going to make a break for it.
"Gold won't get you your son back," Emma states, leaning against the brick of one of the buildings as if she doesn't care if he runs or not. "He can't. No one can. Don't fuck up your son's memory any more than you already have. What you can do is help me make sure that no one else loses a son like you have."
"You don't lose your son," he amends, a little brittle.
"Yeah, as you can imagine, I'd like my eleven year old to be bullet free," she replies dryly. "And Ashley Boyd wanted her daughter not to have a noose over her neck because Gold had her as strung out as he has you. And I'm sure Gold's wife wanted to not be callously murdered."
The information is new to him, judging by how his face grows all the paler.
"I didn't know he was in there," the man says, "your son. I was just told to kill you or he'd kill my son."
Emma groans. "You can't kill someone who is already dead."
He frowns.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Marco," he sighs. "Marco Otteppeg."
"Well, you have a choice here, Marco: do you want to be the man your son would be proud of or keep on living like a zombie with his mirage?"
She can only pray he'll make better choices than Victor.
(And yes, she's still pretty pissed about that.)
His mouth parts, slightly, as he considers it.
"Okay," he mumbles.
"Okay, you're going to try and kill me again or okay, you're going to do the right thing?"
"I'm going to do the right thing," he says, and she can't hide she's relieved by the reveal.
Emma pockets his gun, picking it up from the middle of the street. "Come with me. A cell is a better place to sleep in than the street. We'll talk after I make sure my son is safe. I'm going to have to handcuff you because you did just try to fucking kill me, but I'm sure you understand that."
"I do." he says, shame clear in his voice.
-/-
They get to where her car is before being met by a befuddled Mulan.
"Oh, good, you're already here," Emma notes.
"I came after I heard reports of gunshots," Mulan says, gesturing to the bullet ridden Bug. "What the hell happened?"
"Mr. Otteppeg here," she says, pointing to the man next to her, "needs to practice better gun safety. I think the thing is unregistered, on top of it. Thank God no one was in the car."
Marco looks at her, then at Mulan. "No."
Emma raises an eyebrow at him. "No, what?"
He shakes his head. "No, I tried to kill her. I tried to kill her because Robert Gold told me to."
Mulan gapes.
"I'm doing the right thing and turning myself in." Marco says, resolutely. "August deserves better. I've done enough."
Mulan looks to her for some kind of guidance. "Sherriff?"
"He confessed a lot sooner than I thought he would. Things are a lot more fucked up in this town than they seem," she says in a deadpan.
"Yeah, I got that," Mulan mutters. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Emma really hopes Mulan was serious about the making a difference thing.
-/-
Emma gives Mulan strict instructions to keep Marco in holding until she can make sure her son is safe.
Elsa looks, understandably, stressed when she opens the door to her apartment.
"Thank you so much," Emma says without prompting, wrapping her arms around Elsa in a tight hug. "You have no idea what this means to me. I am so sorry."
"I get a text saying your car has been shot, everyone is okay, you have to chase the suspect, and asking me to pick up Henry," Elsa replies, eyebrows almost raised to her forehead. "I reacted as quickly as physically possible. I'm glad no one gave me speeding tickets."
"I would have made sure you wouldn't have to pay them, anyway," Emma replies, leaning back to look around the apartment. "Where is Hen-"
Emma doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence before Henry bounds up to join them, wrapping his arms tightly around Emma in greeting.
She breathes a sigh of relief, reciprocating the hug. "I'm so sorry, kid."
"You were saving the day," Henry replies easily, as if it's the most obvious response in the world. "That's what heroes do."
Emma just shakes her head.
-/-
Elsa offers to watch Henry while Emma goes to figure out what to do with Marco.
(She really needs to send her cousin flowers, or something. The woman is nothing less than a saint.)
She walks into the interrogation room, where Marco sits with his hands splayed on the table. "How do you communicate with Gold?"
Marco pulls a tiny aluminum bar out of his pocket. "This."
"A phone?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.
He nods. "It's essentially what it is. Gold mentioned he had these specifically made for, well, to avoid any interception."
"Can you call him and tell him the job is done?" she asks, pressing him further.
"Yes," he replies, curtly. "I can."
Emma pulls out her phone and Marco looks a little concerned.
"I don't know if that would-"
"Relax, this isn't for you," she reassures him, rolling her eyes. "I want to record the phone call."
He sighs, his eyes flicking to the bar in his hands with something like dread.
"Are you sure you want me to do this?"
"Absolutely positive," Emma nods. "Call him. Does the thing have a speakerphone option?"
Marco nods. Then, he presses the button to call.
When the ringing stops, there's nothing but breathing on the other line. It's more than a little unsettling, but, judging by Marco's lack of reaction, not uncommon.
"The job is done," Marco mutters.
Emma raises her eyebrows and gestures for him to elaborate. Vagueness in a police recording isn't exactly something that will hold up in court.
"I shot the Sheriff, just as you asked," he amends carefully, looking to Emma. "Is there anything else you needed from me?"
She nods, satisfied.
Gold's voice comes over the line, finally. "No, that will be all. Thank you for your service. I assure you, your loyalty will not go unrewarded."
It may be inappropriate for Emma to grin right then, but she does all the same.
This is all she needs. Acknowledgement that he did it. That he set this up. Attempted murder carries a sentence of at least a few decades, and Gold is in his fifties. It may as well be a life sentence. More satisfying than paying a penalty in civil court and no matter how influenced the jury is in his favor, you can't deny recordings.
"Thank you, Marco," she tells him, leaning over to shake his hand when he hangs up. "You did the right thing. Our D.A should be approaching you with a plea deal soon, but in the meantime..."
He shakes his head. "Gold or not, I deserve to pay for what I've done. I almost killed you."
Emma sighs, feeling sympathetic for the guy despite the circumstances. Addiction does terrible, shitty things to people. Even, maybe especially, addiction to a makeshift drug for grief. "You weren't in your right mind, not really. I'm sure that's going to be one of the things Kathryn considers."
Marco still looks haunted.
-/-
When she gets out of the interrogation room and gets Marco back into his cell, she's a little surprised to find David waiting for her in her office. His arms are crossed as he leans on her desk.
"I take it you heard the news," Emma starts a little awkwardly, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
"That Gold tried to kill you?" David asks, his tone harsher than normal. "Yeah, that's kind of hard to miss."
Emma nods, staring at her boots. "I have to go after him. I can go after him, now."
"He's the most powerful man in town," David tells her in disbelief. Emma is a little surprised at the sudden admission of worry. "He tried to kill you, Emma."
"Says the mayor," she retorts dryly. "He's going to try again if I don't stop him."
He sighs, apparently shaking himself back to his normal, can-do attitude. She was worried there, for a minute, at the sudden shift of character. Given her reaction to him losing the sheriff race, though, she can't exactly begrudge a two minute misstep. "We."
"What?"
"If we don't stop him," he corrects, looking determined. "If you think I'm not going to be behind you every step of the way in this, you'd be wrong."
Emma looks aghast at the prospect. "I can't have a target on your back, too."
"It already is, I'm your brother," he comments matter-of-factly. "We're family, Emma. Family sticks together."
Emma shakes her head quickly. "He already came after me and almost killed Henry. I don't know if I'll be able to protect you, too."
David isn't having it. "I can protect myself. We've had this discussion, Emma, I have to protect you and this town too."
There's no point in arguing with him.
-/-
She wants to talk to one person, though, before she goes any further with this. Someone who would get it.
Emma knocks on the door of their apartment, a little cautiously.
"Swan," Killian exhales when he opens the door, looking nothing less than delighted to see her.
"I would've come sooner, but my car is kind of bullet ridden," she shrugs casually, pushing past him into his apartment.
His eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. "Bullet ridden?"
"Guy working for Gold may have tried to kill me, but I have good news. Great news, actually," she says flippantly, flopping down on his couch. Emma is too concerned with the task at hand to cope with her feelings of terror from earlier. Great coping mechanism? Probably not, but she's never been known for dealing with trauma in the healthiest of ways.
Killian looks understandably perplexed at her offhand attitude. "...you were almost killed?"
"I'm fine. So is Henry." she emphasizes.
He leans down to examine her carefully, hand ghosting over her face. "Swan, you were almost shot. Gold did this? I'm going to kill h-"
"I said," she grumbles, grabbing his hand. "That I have good news."
"After you said that you were nearly killed." he adds, moving to sit next to her.
"And because of that I can arrest Gold."
His jaw drops. "How?"
The corners of Emma's lips twitch. "The guy may be technology focused, but apparently he can't grasp concepts like recorded conversations."
Killian pauses for a moment, as if to absorb the new information. "And the man who was working for him?"
"A dad who lost his kid when he was too young," Emma explains grimly, "I encouraged him to do the right thing and he did."
He raises an eyebrow. "Encouraged?"
Emma rolls her eyes. "I gave him my own version of a pep talk. I don't think it would be David approved, but it did the job fine."
"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" he asks, tilting his head towards the door. "Gold isn't going to arrest himself."
"I just...I just needed to say it." Emma mutters, shaking her head. "Before I go there, I just needed…"
"Encouragement?" Killian supplies. "Well, here it is: go be a hero, Swan."
And that's enough.
-/-
Gold Incorporated is a lot less intimidating to walk through when she knows she'll be able to put handcuffs on its owner. She doesn't hear the chatter at the front desk, the crying of the patrons, the sound of her boots hitting the floor. All Emma can hear is the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears.
Emma doesn't pause before opening the door to where Gold is.
"Robert Gold," she announces, striding towards him from the other side of his tacky office. "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of...me. You have a right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"
The click of the cool metal on his wrists is immensely satisfying.
"Excuse me?" he asks in disbelief.
"You're under arrest for trying to kill some woman named Emma Swan by bribing a man to do it for you," she explains with a smirk, gloating just a little. "I told you that you'd remember my name, asshole."
"You must be mistaken, Sheriff," Gold shakes his head, obviously trying to keep the cool demeanor that makes him so intimidating to so many.
Emma is undisturbed, "We have a confession from you."
She pulls up her phone and plays the tape.
"Sound familiar?"
Depositing him in the back of the squad car is even more fulfilling than she thought it would be.
-/-
Of course, it's not that easy. Even if Gold is currently sitting in a cell, she still has to deal with his lawyer.
And of course, it's Regina Mills. Apparently she was a defense attorney long before she was a corrupt mayor. She strides into the station like she owns the place and sets her briefcase on Emma's desk like it belongs to her.
"Good to see you're able to find employment after being ousted," Emma mutters upon seeing Regina. "Lawyer seems right up your alley - lying soullessly isn't even a pastime so much as a lifestyle for you now, right?"
Regina seems unruffled. "You should ask your mother about that. I started out as one of her interns, after all."
Emma frowns. She didn't know that. "Well, I know my mother's tricks. I'm willing to bet I'll know yours, too. Gold isn't letting us question him without your presence, which was...expected. Do you need directions to the interrogation room while we bring him there?"
Regina shakes her head brusquely. "There will be no need for that. May I ask what you're holding my client on?"
"Taped confession," Emma answers sharply, sitting down at her desk. "Cheering on the man he hired to kill me over the phone when he notified Gold that he supposedly shot me."
Regina scoffs at that, which eventually graduates into full on laughter.
This isn't usually a method Ingrid used. Emma furrows her brow, unsure of how to respond. "Weird trick, it's not working."
Regina takes a break from laughing to answer the question breathlessly, wiping tears from under her eyes because she apparently cackled that much. "Oh, you honestly believe that will work? That's even better."
"Maine is a one party consent state for audio recording," Emma shrugs. "We had consent from the other party."
Regina raises her eyebrows. "Is it? Because, just a few months ago, it seems our state legislature begged to differ. A bill was passed to ensure that phone recordings were only legal if they had consent from both parties."
Obviously, she missed that news.
"Gold," Emma states in realization. "Gold lobbied for it, didn't he?"
"Frankly, that doesn't matter. What matters is what's law is law. The recording is not admissible if its acquired illegally. You have to release my client," Regina says with a smirk. "you seem to be missing any evidence to hold him on."
The sound of Regina's heels clacking as she walks away doesn't even shake Emma out of her reverie as she stares at the wall in front of her in pure shock.
-/-
Gold just looks gilb when Emma notifies him that he's been released.
Emma resists the urge to hit him with something.
"You just made this public," Emma says stoically, hands shaking as she opens up the door to his cell. "I don't think that will work out well for you."
Gold only straightens his suit as he stands up from the cot, not concerned in the least with Emma's warning. "I'm a beloved man who gives people the opportunity to talk to the people they miss the most. You're just a sheriff picked by her older brother to do the job."
"And you tried to put a bullet in my head and almost got my son killed in the process," Emma replies harshly, jaw tightening. "Do you really think I'm just going to lay down and take that?"
"Frankly, Miss Swan," he calls over his shoulder as he walks out, "I don't give a damn what you think happened. You have no evidence to corroborate your fantastical claims, after all. Just be thankful I'm not charging you for breaking and entering for your little stunt, earlier. Just so long as you know who will win these little spars of ours."
She grits her teeth as she watches him leave, powerless to do anything else. Emma can't believe she's let him get away after getting those close. She can't believe much of anything about today, really. Henry almost gets killed and Gold walks out of the cell she finally managed to wrangle him into.
All because she couldn't keep up with the law, thanks her to hiatus from law enforcement. This is her fault. Emma has no one to blame but herself.
-/-
David, Lancelot, Mulan, and Killian are waiting for her when she walks back into her office, all wearing matching expressions of understanding. The fact that they all seems so supportive almost makes it worse.
She wants them to be angry with her, wants them to hate her, wants them to chide her for making such a novice fucking mistake. Emma wants David to say he regrets ever suggesting she be sheriff in the first place, Lancelot to say she's ruined all their hard work, Mulan to say she's a shitty example for police work and that she's tempted to quit so she doesn't have to work with her, and Killian to say she was right when she came to his doorstep all those months ago saying she was a miserable fucking person who only got innocent people killed.
More people will die, inevitably one of those people will be her. It could even be Henry, Gold has shown he doesn't really give a damn if it is. It could be David, it could be Lancelot, it could be Elsa, it could be Anna, it could be Kristoff, it could be Gwen, it could be Mulan, it could be Killian, it could…
Emma tells herself that she won't cry in front of them when she sits down at her desk. She tells herself that she'll give them some speech about the bad guys winning temporary victories and the good guys winning permanent ones, one like David would give. That they'll get Gold, just not today.
But all she can do is put her head to the desk and cry with her hands covering her face. She feels a hand, presumably Killian's based off feeling of the cool metal of his rings, run up and down her back soothingly. Emma is too distraught to protest the gesture of comfort.
(It's not her proudest moment.)
"Next time we'll be ready," is all Mulan says when she breaks the silence, fire burning in her eyes when Emma, face tearstained, finally looks up from her hands.
For someone so new, she's picked this up quickly. It's shorter than the speech Emma had mentally prepared and failed to execute, but it's better.
"Yeah," Emma replies, voice breaking with anger. "We will be."
-/-
It starts when she goes grocery shopping later that day.
Emma is still angry. Emma is still pissed. Angry and pissed people still have to buy milk so their kids can have cereal, as it turns out. She's mad and she's determined, feeling confident that at the very least people will hear whispers of what kind of person Gold really is. There are strength in numbers, after all. The situation is still far from ideal, but the world isn't ending yet.
She whirls around when someone taps her on the shoulder in the dairy isle.
"You're the sheriff, right?" a middle-aged woman asks her. She looks like she's straight from her kids' soccer practice, with short hair and a handbag clutched close to her waist.
"Yup," Emma replies curtly. Emma really isn't in the mood to listen to banal complaints today. "Can I help you?"
"You're a bitch, you know that?"
Emma raises her eyebrows, a little incredulous. "Excuse me?"
"Accusing Gold of attempted murder?" the woman mutters furiously, simmering with rage and narrowing her eyes. "What happens to my husband when I can't visit him anymore after you try to destroy Gold's company?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Emma replies darkly, taking a step back.
"I do. You're trying to take people's loved ones away from them because you're a bitter, selfish person." the woman accuses vitriolically, edging closer and closer to Emma as if she's tempted to send Emma to hologram-land herself.
"Your husband is dead," Emma almost shouts, lifting her hands in front of her defensively. "How about you fucking accept that instead of taking it out on me?"
Emma walks out of the store a little shaken. Going public with what Gold has done hasn't worked out for one exchange with a random person, so what? Once people realize that he's a horrible human being and his company is bullshit, they're bound to side with her. It only makes sense.
It isn't until she gets home that she realizes she forgot to even grab the milk. She sighs.
-/-
The headline of the paper the next morning reads "SHERRIF SWAN ACCUSES STORYBROOKE'S HERO OF ATTEMPTED MURDER".
It's nice to see that they're trying not to stay biased in all of this.
Storybrooke's fucking hero - give her a break.
Emma reads the article because she hates herself and wants to torture herself further (no one reads print media these days, right?). Included is a lengthy interview with Gold - which takes up almost an entire page. He drones on and on about how he just wanted to bring peace to the city by reconnecting them with their loved ones and how her allegations were a conspiracy designed to make her seem more powerful by targeting the most famous man in town. It's because Storybrooke's police department is so weak, you see, now. They have to make up for all the power they seem to be lacking, these days.
What, with all the murdering they're not doing.
Killian's name even gets brought up as a co-conspirator who was obsessed with Gold's wife and is now illicitly teaming up with the sheriff as revenge. And Emma, the masterful seductress, is apparently able to get Killian to act on her every whim by having him frame Gold for shooting into her car and paying off Ottepeg to do it. Killian is a dock worker and Emma was a private eye barely making ends meet turned cop, so how they apparently afforded this bribe isn't clear. David is in on it too, because he's unable to refuse his sister of anything. That evidently includes help in framing poor Mr. Gold.
All he ever wanted to do was help people and now the big bad woman is trying to take him down for being too damn popular! It sounds like the world's lamest action movie plot. She'd be more angry if she didn't laugh through half of it.
(Judging by the texts she gets, this is a common sentiment.
MARY MARGARET (7:30 AM): Hey, Emma, can you manipulate your brother with your evil persuasive powers to take out the garbage this morning?
LANCELOT (8:03 AM): Who do I call to get that cool bullet effect in my window? Obviously Gold is propping up your new successful side business.
MARIAN (8:14 AM): Did you hear about Storybrooke's new Lord and Savior Robert Gold? He can talk to dead people! I think this is really all the proof we need, Emma.
ELSA (8:57 AM): We don't talk for a few weeks and you suddenly become a succubus? Teach me your ways!
KILLIAN (9:40 AM): I feel genuinely robbed of all of these seduction techniques I've been missing out on. All this work to frame such a nice, wholesome man like Robert Gold and this is what I get in return? Will the struggles never end for me, Swan?
David is a little less amused. He calls her up and goes on a twenty minute tirade against Gold. It's therapeutic for the both of them.)
And this bothers her to an extent, it really does. It's not like she enjoys having her face printed on the front page of the local newspaper as a liar (and an implied promiscuous one because Gold is nothing if but a consistent misogynist), but she can push through this. Her friends have her back. Her family has her back.
What more could she need?
And this mentality works for a few hours, it really does. Emma is able to spend her day off in something like peace - staying inside with a warm comforter some hot chocolate. Gold can try all he wants, but he'll never be able to stop the truth from coming out. All the money and influence in the world can't stop her.
Her breaking point comes when Henry comes home from school with a bruise on his face.
"Jesus, Henry," Emma exclaims as soon as he walks in, kneeling in front of him to examine the mark and carefully ghost her fingers over it. "What happened?
"Um," he pauses, trying to hide how upset he is. He's stupidly brave, her kid. "Aaron said that he visits his mom every weekend thanks to Gold. And he was mad that my mom tried to stop him."
Emma pales immediately, the blood draining from her face and dread filling the pit of her stomach. "I need to call the principal, the school, the something…"
"He doesn't know that it's not real," Henry assures her. "With my other mom, I could tell it wasn't really her. It's like...Santa Claus or something. Aaron doesn't know that."
Emma frowns, thumbing at his cheek. "Unfortunately, kid, this isn't like Santa. More than just kids believe in Gold and what he does. A lot of people don't seem to realize it's not real."
"It's not their fault," Henry mumbles, looking at his feet. "It's just a lot scarier to see them as not real than it is to see them as real."
Her kid is really fucking wise, sometimes.
And he's already had to grow up way too fast. Now, she's making it even worse.
"You hit the nail on the head, kiddo," she murmurs, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Some people just can't let go."
She can't tear her eyes away from the bruise on his face for the life of her.
Emma is his mother. She's supposed to keep him away from harm, not push him towards it because she wants to play hero. She can't keep doing this to him - almost getting him killed and getting him beaten up on the goddamn playground.
Gold was right.
You don't need to do the job yourself if everyone else is already turned against your target. In the poll of public opinion, Gold has already won. Fear is on his side, and what do people fear more than losing the people they love most?
And that, at the end of the day, is more powerful and insidious than his money, his political influence, or even his apparent assassins could ever be.
She can't keep doing this. Emma has other people to think of, now.
-/-
She walks into the station later that night, eyes red rimmed and posture slumped.
"Emma," Lancelot frowns, taking in her disheveled appearance with concern. "What's wrong? I told you I'd take over the shift tonight."
She sighs, biting her lip and keeping her gaze on the tile. It's a bit of deja-vu, from the last time she quit. After her mother won her case, she didn't hesitate for long before telling Albert - without mincing words - that she was done with this bullshit and injustice and stormed out without a second glance.
Emma picked up the job of bail bonds not long after. She figured it beat waitressing, and this - finding people - at least was something she was moderately good at. Then came private investigation on top of it, because it turns out that bail bonds wasn't the most reliable of incomes. Private investigation wasn't, either, but combined it was at least salvageable. The power could be kept on and she could pay her phone bill.
Emma resigned herself to cynicism, a familiar and well-traveled path, quickly. Her job wasn't moral or glamorous or anything else, it was a job. A shitty person dealing with shitty people in order for her to pay bills. That's all it was to her. She ignored David's calls, moved out of her apartment, and became the person she did.
And she'll do it again if that means Henry is safe.
"You'd be better at this than I am, anyway," she mumbles, pulling her badge from her jeans and pressing it into his hands.
Lancelot furrows his eyebrows. "Emma, what are yo-"
"Congratulations, Sheriff," Emma says, her morose expression not lending itself to any trace of enthusiasm. "Don't fuck it up like I did."
He shakes his head, looking concerned. "Is this about the article? Emma, you know you can't listen to him. All he is is some rich prick with a megaphone - you're better than him, Emma. You're smarter. You're tougher. And I know for damn sure that you can bring him back here in cuffs and make sure they stay on."
Emma shuts her eyes, too exhausted to even argue with him. "This isn't about me. You have to get that."
And for once, it isn't. It's about Henry. It's about David and Mary Margaret. It's about Killian and Elsa. It's even about Lancelot and Gwen and Marian and hell, even about her mother.
They're not invincible and they are at risk so long as she stays here. Emma isn't a hero, no matter what delusions they may hold. She can't save them. All she can do is prevent them from getting hurt as much as she can, even if it's her presence that ends up hurting them. Emma can't make things any better. All she can do is try her best to make sure they don't get much worse.
Lancelot can only stare after as she strides out of the building, head down and hands crammed into the pockets of her jacket.
It's better this way.
-/-
A/N: Thanks for reading! Feedback makes me really happy. Though you probably aren't happy with me about now, in which case, you can put that in your review maybe?