By the time we arrived at the sherriff's station, the Charmings were already waiting for us. We pulled up alongside David's battered red truck. I got out of the car and walked around and opened the backseat door. My mother stared up at me, accusation burning in her eyes. I couldn't stop the feeling of guilt that arose in me at her expression; she was, after all, still my mother.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way," I said sincerely.
"Me, too," she replied dryly.
I sighed. "You gave me no choice."
She glared at me. "Weren't you the one that said that there is always a choice?"
Her spiteful words hit me much harder than I thought they would. Although I knew what I was doing was the hero's way, but my mother was once again making me question what the right way was. I shook it off; I woudn't fall prey to my mother's deceptions again.
I stepped aside and Emma took my place, starting to escort my mother out of the vehicle. But she shook her off. "I think I'll walk myself inside, if you don't mind," she spat. Emma shrugged, and stepped back. Mother straightened herself and exited the car, her head held high like the queen she always wanted to be. We walked inside with Emma leading the way. I took up the rear to make sure that my mother didn't get any bright ideas. We lead her to the interrogation room and left her inside so we could talk to David and Mary Margaret before going in to question her. All four of us sat behind the two-way mirror, looking in as we conversed.
"Regina, is there any reason she'd want to be in Storybrooke?" Mary Margaret asked.
"Besides me, I doubt it," I replied. "Usually she's after power, but I doubt that she'd make the mistake of going against all of us again."
"So you really think that she came here just to make things right with you?"
"Well, she has her heart in her chest for the first time since before I was born so...it's possible." I tried to keep my face expressionless, even though inside I felt like I was being torn apart. Emma put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I looked at her and smiled in gratitude. No matter what I did, Emma always saw right through me. She always knew exactly what to do to make me feel better.
I took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do this."
Emma and I walked into the interrogation ton, while Mary Margaret and David stayed behind the two-way mirror. As we took our seats, I could feel my mother's eyes burning into my skull. Part of me wanted to scream and yell, to ask what in the world I ever did to make her want to destroy my happiness. But years as the mayor of Storybrooke taught me to set aside my emotions and keep my expression calm and cool.
"Cora," Emma greeted her coldly. She was using her Sheriff's voice: authoritative and slightly harsh. She only used this voice with those she was absolutely certain was guilty. Cora nodded curtly in response. "You up for having a little chat?" Emma continued.
"You're welcome to talk if you like," she responded. "We could start with how you've corrupted my daughter."
"I think I'll be asking the questions around here," Emma asserted. "I think a great place to start is: What the hell are you doing in Storybrooke?"
"I came to see my daughter," she replied. "I wanted to make up for my past mistakes; to be the mother I was always supposed to be."
"And you thought the best way of doing that would be to break into our home and start making threats? Great plan."
Mother's face fell. She looked like she wanted to cry. "I was never planning for any of this to happen," she whispered. Then she looked up at me, tears beginning to form in her sad eyes. "I just...I just wanted to see you, and tell you how sorry I am."
I was absolutely shocked. I had never seen that look on my mother's face before; she'd never looked at me with so much love and regret in her eyes. Guilt began to fester in my chest, and I felt it sink into the pit of my stomach like a heavy rock. I had to turn my face away from her. So I looked at Emma. She was still in Sherriff-mode: the picture of strength and authority. She turned to look at me, her emerald eyes burning with protective instinct: protecting me. Her gaze softened, however, when she saw my expression. I blushed and looked at the floor, afraid to seem to vulnerable in front of my mother.
"Alright, I believe you," Emma said, finally shifting her gaze from me back to my mother.
At the sound of her voice Mother's expression hardened again into the cynical, regal persona I'd grown up with. "And how is that?" she asked sarcastically. "Your 'superpower'?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," Emma replied without a hint of doubt. "But that still raises another question: what changed since you've arrived?"
"You," she spat, glaring at Emma.
"Because I married your daughter," she finished. "Now tell me, what is so horrible about your daughter being happy with me?"
"Because it's a lie!" Mother exclaimed. "It has to be a lie. It's unnatural, disgusting!"
"Why?!" I didn't mean to speak, but the word bursted from my mouth, accusation ringing in my tone. After a moment I sighed. "What is so bad about it?" I asked in a low voice.
We were interupted by a light knock on the door. Emma and I looked at each other, brows furrowed in confusion. Who would be at the door of the interrogation room right now? Emma got up out of her chair to see who was there. I glanced at my mother. she didn't look surprised, or even curious. In fact, she seemed...smug.
"What the hell..." I heard Emma say behind me. "What are you doing here?"
"I believe you have my client in interrogation, do you not?" An unpleasantly familiar voice said.
I whirled around to see the balding former public attorney walking into the room in his typical business suit, carrying an official-looking brown leather briefcase.
"Spencer?" I exclaimed in surprise.
"Your client?" Emma asked incredulously.
He grinned with smug amusement. "Did you miss me, madam mayor?" He asked. "And yes, Sheriff," he said, turning to Emma, "Ms. Mills is my client." With every word he spoke his voice dropped with venom. He made his way through Cora's side of the table, seeming to slither over the floor like the snake he was. "Should I still call you 'Sheriff,' or is the police force now a family business?" He asked, looking toward the two-way mirror.
Emma glared at him. "I am still sheriff in this town," she growled.
"I thought you'd been removed from your office since your last visit to the station," I added.
"Yes, I was," he replied, "but that didn't strip me of my authority to defend my client. Speaking of, Ms. Mills would like to be released now."
"Oh? And what gives you the authority to demand that?" Emma asked.
"Ms. Mills has been unlawfully held by this so-called 'institution', and thus has the legal right to be released," he stated. "You have no evidence to convict her of any crime, and the only reason that you arrested her in the first place is because she said a few mean things to you."
"That's not true," Emma countered. "I have reason to believe that she means to cause harm to me and my family, and she attacked my wife."
"Did she?" Spencer asked. "If my memory serves me, Regina threatened her and started to attack her when she used magic to defend herself, after which you came up behind her with that cuff. Seems to me like she was the one who was attacked."
Emma, for once, was speechless.
"As for your suspicions," he continued, "on what grounds do you base those off of? How exactly did my client say she was going to threaten your family?" When Emma didn't respond he smiled in triumph. "If we're going to assume things based on people's past, why don't we just put everyone in jail, starting with the Evil Queen?"
"Hey!" I protested. Emma leapt from her chair and leaned forward threateningly. I put my hand on her arm, and she relaxed slightly. But she didn't take her eyes off of Spencer for a second.
"Or, better yet," he said louder, "why don't we put away the person who tried to kill my client a few years ago?" He glanced behind us at the two-way mirror. I could only imagine what Mary Margaret looked like now.
"That's enough, Spencer," I said, using my authority as Mayor. Then I turned to face my mother. "If that's how you want it, fine." I leaned in closer, and my voice lowered. "But know that you will never tear apart this family." With that I waved my hand, unlocking the handcuffs binding my mother to the table. She rubbed her wrists, which had faint red marks encircling them, and walked towards the door. Then she paused and looked at me. She looked as if she wanted to say something. Quickly, though, she seemed to change her mind, and walked out with regal posture, followed immediately by Spencer.