Chapter XI

The Sheriff

Emma made her way back to her hidden Bug with a smile on her face. She had felt Regina's eyes track her the entire way through the backyard and through the bushes. Regina. She had opened her eyes and the first thing she'd seen this morning was the brunette's beautiful face. It was definitely something she could get used to. She opened the door of her precious yellow Bug and its rusted hinges groaned in protest. She wanted to get used to it and that was the scary part. She had found herself staring into the serious dark eyes of her son's other mother and she had wanted to kiss her worries away. So she had. It had been that simple.

Except it wasn't simple at all. She started her car, it only took three cranks, and pulled back out onto the road. She drove past 108 Mifflin and slowed down to a crawl. She had spent the night with Regina, had slept with her in the truest sense of the word. When was the last time she had just slept with somebody? She had never been the big spoon, she had never held somebody close to her for their comfort. She had never been a cuddler, she had never comforted or petted, and she had definitely never been into morning afters. Regina brought something out in her. This big, soft, fuzzy need that she couldn't quite figure out. Ever since she had touched her in the mine, all Emma wanted to do was hold the woman close and not let go. She wasn't sure if she liked this new macho cave-man side of herself.

She drove back through town and headed toward Mary Margaret's apartment. She needed a shower and a change of clothes. Clothes, what had possessed her to walk into Regina's closet? She had always known the woman was a clothes-horse, but the entire walk-in closet full of designer labels had thrown her a little. It was perfectly, almost obsessively, arranged in order of style and color and Regina stood in the middle of it in nothing but those damn black panties. They had almost been caught by Cora, again, and the day was pressing down on them, responsibilities falling back on their shoulders, and Emma had wanted to tell the world to go screw itself.

She knew that they couldn't, no matter how much they wanted to, though. She wanted to stretch the last moments of their morning as far as she could. So she had wrapped herself around Regina and looked at the wall of clothes that was probably worth more than everything she had ever owned combined. There was the blazer that Regina had worn when she had begrudgingly handed her the Sheriff's badge after she'd won the election. Then there was the black turtleneck that she'd worn the day Henry had been trapped in the mines. So many memories, Emma smiled, almost woven into the wools, silks and linens of Regina's wardrobe. Suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted to see draped across her Mayor's beautiful body.

She nuzzled against Regina's neck, "The blue shirt." The one that Henry had let her wear and Regina had flippantly told to enjoy. "You know the one." She did because her slender hand immediately went to it. Emma smiled, she couldn't believe that she was curled around Regina Mills, in her closet, picking her clothes out for her. She also couldn't believe that the woman was letting her do it. It felt just as intimate as waking up wrapped together. Maybe more so.

"And a pair of those pants." The prim and proper, high waisted ironed-to-perfection slacks that made Regina's ass look delectable. Regina had almost immediately picked out a pair of black slacks. Arousal and satisfaction shot through her. She pressed a kiss to the back of Regina's neck, "And heels?" She loved the way Regina's legs looked in heels. She was a chauvinist pig, so sue her. When the brunette bent down do retrieve a pair of heels Emma felt her entire body jerk to attention. She had already stopped touching her beautiful brunette twice and her will-power was wearing thin.

"Keep that up" Being an irresistible woman that fit against her like she was meant to be there. "and we're both going to call in sick" If raging lust and possible insanity was considered a sickness, "Madame Mayor."

She felt Regina's intake of breathe and her sweet and salty olive-toned skin warm underneath her hands.

"We can't."

It was almost their catch-phrase at this point.

She'd had to tell her, about the magic and purple sparks in her brown eyes. Regina had looked momentarily surprised but then she had poofed up a bear claw from Granny's like it was nothing. She could get used to that kind of magic. She had knelt in front of Regina, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from kissing her way down Regina's bare stomach and across her thighs. She had hugged her instead and had never wanted to let her go.

That feeling, that wrap-her-arms-around-her-and-keep-her-safe Savior bullcrap emotion that hadn't stopped buzzing through her since their adventure in the mine, flared up again when Regina had frozen at the mention of her mother.

Damn fucking Cora for putting that fear in her own daughter's eyes. Cursed personality or not she hated Cora Mills. One day she was going to lay a royal ass kicking on the Queen of Hearts. She reached out to grab Regina's hand, because if she touched any other part of her body, she would never leave the damn bedroom.

"Hey" She waited until Regina's eyes met hers. "It's going to be okay." Somehow it would work out. "She can't take my heart, remember." She had tried and failed. Regina would never have to go through another Daniel. She reached up to touch Regina's cheek and the other woman leaned into her.

"So" she fumbled with her words because touching Regina, who was still more or less naked, short circuited her brain. "I'll see you at lunch time?" If she made it that long.

"My office at one." No hesitation, no smart remarks, only a shy smile and a spark in her eyes.

Emma let herself into the apartment she shared with her roommate-turned long-lost-mother-turned roommate again and headed to the bathroom. She needed a cold shower if she had any hope of functioning today. Mary Margaret, it was so very easy to slide back into the habit of calling Snow that, was already gone for the day and Emma was immeasurably relieved. She was not looking forward to that conversation. She shampooed her hair under the ice-cold shower spray. When Snow and David broke the curse, she was going to have some explaining to do and she had a feeling that her mother would not jump for joy at the news that she and Regina were… Her thought trailed off, she wasn't sure what they were doing yet. Well, whatever it was Snow was not going to like it. Considering the history between Snow and Regina, there was a good chance that Snow might take a page out of Cora's book and rip Regina's heart out. Yes, Emma sighed as she reached for the conditioner, Snow was going to blow a royal gasket. Her daughter was in lo-like with the Evil Queen Ex-Step Mother who had stolen everyone's happy endings and cursed them to Maine for just shy of thirty years. Dr. Phil would have a field day with them. Hell, they were a paternity test shy of an episode of Maury. Did they do maternity tests? She bet people would get a kick out of two women screaming "He's my son!" at each other on T.V.

Emma rinsed her hair and turned off the frigid shower. She felt almost normal again: crappy sense of humor and all. She walked back upstairs naked, because there was no son or father to see her do so, and went to her own closet. It was far smaller and simpler than Regina's, of course, but it would get the job done. She sighed when she saw the sweaters and scarves that she had borrowed from Mary Margaret's closet. Her mom-wear, she had called it. She had decided that if she was going to be Henry's mother she should dress the part. More grown-up, more responsible, and less like a Southie Bounty Hunter without a care in the world. She'd hated it. The cardigans had been itchy and the sweaters made her feel like she was wearing someone else's skin. Someone she hadn't especially liked.

She fished out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved blue Henley tee-shirt, pulled them on over still-damp skin. She had shit to do today, and if she didn't walk out the door in five minutes she was going to be late. Wouldn't want to be late, she smirked, not when the Mayor kept such a close eye on her. She added socks and laced up her boots before returning to the bathroom to gel her hair into submission before pulling it into a ponytail. Badge, gun, jacket and she could go. Jacket. She stopped dead in the middle of the living room. She had left her jacket at Regina's. Oh well, all the more reason to go back later tonight. Besides, her blue jacket went better with today's shirt anyway.

She stepped back outside and walked into the Sheriff's Office exactly on time. Graham was already there, of course, and he grinned at her. "Right on time, Sheriff." She would flip him off if she didn't need him to do something for him. She hitched her head and motioned inside her office. Which, technically, had been his office. She shook her head at that thought, it was probably better not to think about it.

He sat in the chair in front of her desk that wasn't full of paperwork and she leaned against her desk. "I need you to start gathering information for me." Graham blinked, "O-kay." She crossed her arms and tried to look sheriff-y. "On Greg Mendel and his woman Tamara."

Graham's eyebrow winged up, "You mean his wife?"

So the bitch and bastard really were love birds. She wondered how many times she had slipped out for her "marathon training" while playing with Neal's heartstrings. She wondered how many times she had been the one to hit the switch that sent electricity flowing into Regina.

"Yeah. Him and Her." Graham didn't know that those had been their shitty secret agent names, but he nodded anyway.

"And what are the crimes we're looking for?"

Kidnapping, attempted murder, assault, assaulting an officer of the peace, murder, releasing a weapon of mass destruction. Being members of some freaky corporation that wanted to destroy their town and magic. Oh and being creepers. She wasn't sure if that was a crime, exactly, but Regina would probably add to the town charter in a heartbeat if she needed to.

"I've got my reasons, Graham."

Reasons she could not talk about unless she wanted her loyal deputy to lock her into the Asylum.

"I want everything we have on them, official and unofficial. I want to know what they eat for breakfast, what they do for a living, where they live, what cars they drive, who hogs the covers, everything."

She sounded like a bad cop movie, which was pretty accurate since that's where most of her police-know how came from. Well that and running from the cops, of course.

Graham nodded, but looked a little confused.

"I trust your instincts, Emma, but I think you may be a little off-the-mark this time. I don't know what you think they've done, but Greg is a C.P.A and Tamara is a photographer." He plucked the picture of Henry off the corner of her desk, "I mean she took this picture, Emma. They're perfectly harmless. I've never even written them a parking ticket."

She went cold and stiff, and though she knew they were false memories, she felt nauseous. Tamara had been around Henry. She had taken pictures of him, maybe even touched him. Her hands clenched into fists and she blew out a breath.

"Listen, I know you're frustrated. Ever since the whole playground funding fiasco you've been off your game."

Great, the curse didn't let Henry remember that she was his mom, but everyone seemed to remember how she had made an ass of herself in the middle of a town council meeting. Peachy.

"You don't have to prove yourself, Ems. We all know you're a good sheriff. We all make mistakes. Good ol' Doc Mills just likes to remind some of us more often than others."

"Ugh. Doctor Mills can bite me."

Graham winced, "She's just still upset about those speeding tickets you issued her. All seventeen of them."

Emma couldn't help it, she smirked. It's good to be the Sheriff.

"And that" Graham grumbled, "is why we can't have nice things. You can't go pissing the one or both of the Mills off every chance you get. I mean I know you like Henry and all, but these pissing matches with his Mom and Grandma have to stop."

Emma rolled her eyes at that. "Just get on that fact-finding. I'm going to go patrol."

Graham heaved himself out of the chair, "Can you at least bring me back a coffee, we're out because someone forgot to buy some from the grocers like she said she would."

Emma didn't even bother to wonder how Graham knew she was stopping by Granny's.

The Diner was, more or less, the same as it was every day. Only Ruby was less than her usual spunky self. In fact, she looked like something the cat, or wolf in this case, dragged in. Lacey didn't look much better. The troublesome twosome liked to stay out late and party hard. There would have been a time not too long ago that she would have been right there with them. They would have stirred up trouble, drank their weight in liquor and had probably gotten a little too carried away with each other more than once. The Old Emma Swan wouldn't have minded getting into all sorts of interesting trouble with the two attractive brunettes. That Emma, though, belonged in the past. Before Storybrooke, before Henry and before Regina. Emma, still buzzing from her morning with Her Girl, hopped on a stool and grinned at her, "Late night, Ladies?"

Ruby only grunted. Down at the end of the counter Lacey, dressed in her regular uniform of too-tight and too short clothing, and answered with an equally disdainful sound before returning to her syrup soaked plate of food.

"You're one to talk." Ruby rolled her eyes as she sat a steaming cup of hot cocoa on the counter. "M.M. said that you were out all night long yourself."

Lacey, apparently enticed by conversation, moved closer to them plate dragging her plate and glass of iced tea with her.

"She looks awful rested, though. So it couldn't have been a very late night." Lacey chuckled, "Graham must be slowing down in his old age."

Ruby wiped down the already sparkling counter, "Or maybe Madame Mayor broke him."

Emma choked on her cocoa.

"What the hell, Rubes!"

Ruby grinned, "Oh come on, Ems, everyone knows."

Lacey nodded, "It's a small town and everyone knows everything about everyone."

Not really, Emma mused. Nobody in Storybrooke knew anything about each other.

"I don't see what any of this has to do with Graham."

Both brunettes rolled their eyes and Lacey mumbled something into her tea.

"Well Graham was Regina's booty-call for, well, as long as anyone could remember."

"Then," Lacey picked up where Ruby left off, "You swooped in and the twice-a-week visits to Regina's boudoir stopped."

"And" The waitress picked up again, "you and Graham got pretty close" She waggled her eyebrows, "Then you and the Mayor went into nuclear warfare mode. I mean, you wrote Doc Mills like twenty tickets just to get her goat."

"Seventeen." Emma suddenly felt the urge to defend herself.

"Dr. Bitchinstein probably deserved them. She drives that Porsche around town like Storybrooke is her own personal kingdom." Lacey scowled as she spoke. "Look at how she acted yesterday. She's a freaking bitch. The only people who can stand her are her equally bitchy daughter and Henry."

Emma felt the inexplicable urge to punch Belle, Lacey, or whatever she wanted to call herself this week, in the nose. She clamped down on that urge and reminded herself that she was a cop and couldn't haul off and punch people.

"Let's get something straight right now, guys." She held up a finger, "One. I am not sleeping with Graham. I am not dating Graham. He is my deputy and nothing else." Also he was sort of a zombie or something. "Two" she held up a second finger. "Do not trash talk Regina Mills. She is the Mayor and my boss." Her voice was hard and each word was forced through her grit teeth. Regina was more than the Mayor, she was the mother of her child, and her almost-lover. She had almost died to save Storybrooke and she was not going to let people talk shit about her.

"Ruby held up her hands in mock-surrender. "Cool your heels, Ems, we were just kidding."

Lacey tilted her head to the side, "A little on the touchy side today, Sheriff." There was something in Lacey's blue eyes and Emma wondered exactly how much of the smart and bookish Belle was hidden under Lacey's racy clothes and drunken ways. She didn't seem like the sweet and kind librarian that Ruby had fawned over, but there was something beneath the vacant barfly act, Emma just didn't know what.

"Gimme a cup of coffee for Graham and I'll get out of your hair, Rubes."

She was done information gathering for now. Apparently the entire town thought that she and Regina were at-odds over Graham. If they only knew the truth they would probably lose their collective shit. Emma paid for the drinks and stood to leave.

"Hey Emma" She turned to look at Ruby, "You coming out with us tonight? There's someone I think you'd enjoy meeting."

Was Ruby trying to set her up on a blind date? Now that she had publically declared she wasn't with Graham did the other woman think she was looking for a date? Hardly.

"No thanks, Rubes" She smiled to let her know that things between them were cool, "I've got dinner plans with Mary Margaret and a nice, quiet evening planned."

If you could consider trying to convince a woman, who was secretly her fairy tale princess mother, to be a home wrecker and kiss a married man, her fairy tale knight-in-shining armor father, a quiet evening.

She would much rather spend the night snuggled up with Regina.

She left the Diner with plenty on her mind. The curse had left some things, but erased others. It didn't really make sense to her. Someone needed to write a manual so she could then read the fucking manual about this kind of stuff. Evil Curses For Dummies, How to Train Your Magical Girlfriend, Magic for Beginners, Savioring For Fun and Profit. Something, anything, would be helpful at this point. All they had to go on was a half-assed fairytale book and guess work.

"Good morning, Sheriff Swan."

She turned on her booted heel and found herself nearly face to face with Mr. Gold.

Yay, her other least-favorite person in Storybrooke.

"You and I, Sheriff Swan, need to have a little chat."

She knew she had to do it. He was the all-powerful Dark One and all that bullshit. He could help them, if he felt like it. Furthermore, she owed it to Neal to tell his father what had happened to him. She still would rather lick an ogre's ass than talk to Gold. It was official, Emma sighed as she fell into step with the dark-suited pawnshop owner, she should have pulled Regina back into bed with her and stayed all day.