Monday morning, Emma sighs. First day as Deputy Swan. This is good. It's a way to help people. It's a more legitimate foothold in the community. It's a path forward as far as breaking the curse is concerned. Roots in the community, that's good. Something inside, some feeling she can't name but has been active since she arrived, is advising her to do it. And since her gut feeling is directing her to do it, she'll do it. She completes her chores on the Jolly, feeling the ship reflecting her nerves back at her again. Then, she departs for the station, tapping a hand against her leg the entire walk over. Thankfully, it's a small enough town and she moves quickly enough that most locations are a reasonable walking distance.
As she steps nervously down the empty, echoing hallway, she hears two voices arguing. When she's closer, she can distinguish the two. Sheriff Humbert and Mayor Mills. The mayor whips her head in Emma's direction, letting loose the full extent of her glare.
"Graham, what the hell is she doing here?" she barks.
"She's my new deputy." The sheriff answers calmly. The mayor rounds back on him, eyes widening in outrage. "It's in my budget," he explains dryly.
"Why on earth would you make that terrible decision?"
"She's proven effective finding Ashley Boyd, apparently negotiating with Mr. Gold, and finding David Nolan. Miss Swan was the one who spotted the deficiencies on the tape. You yourself even said it was a stroke of genius. She's a bright, young woman. I'd like to get her back on the straight and narrow." His voice sounds like he's been making this argument for quite a while. Emma warms with the praise.
"You never consulted me," Regina snarls.
"I don't have to, Madam Mayor. It's my department. Your consultation isn't necessary."
"You also know how the process of appointing a deputy works. The sheriff shall appoint a deputy, with the advice and consent of the mayor." She quotes through her teeth. "You can go now, Miss Swan." Emma blinks but otherwise doesn't move from where she's leaning in the doorway.
"Madam Mayor, I'm here because I want to help people. I got off the wrong foot in this town, and I'd like to change that. Believe you actually mentioned something about roots? I want to be a part of the community and help people. Sheriff Humbert seems to feel I'd be fit for the job." Emma's eyes flick between the sheriff and the mayor. "Is there any reason to refuse, Madam Mayor?" she asks. Regina glares at her, lip curling in anger and disgust.
"Besides your incessant rudeness, Miss Swan? Or your age? You're just a child."
"Working a desk job." Emma points out. "Just helping out."
"Your qualifications? Or, more accurately, lack thereof?"
"The tape and the search in the woods for John Doe," the sheriff cuts in before Emma can answer. "Madam Mayor, I'm not suggesting sending a child out to break up bar fights. I'm talking about having her help out at the station and another pair of useful eyes on case files."
"Leave, Miss Swan, now." Emma raises an eyebrow. She looks to the sheriff.
"I'll deal with her," he answers. Emma nods as Regina whips back around. The more the mayor protests, the more Emma finds herself actually wanting the job. Maybe I just want to win. As she turns to go back down the hallway, she hears the quiet tapping of a cane outside the open window. The sound suspends her in place for a moment. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she walks directly out the door and in Gold's direction.
"Miss Swan," he greets her pleasantly.
"Morning, Mr. Gold," she responds gruffly.
"What are you, ah, doing here? Not getting into trouble, I hope." He gestures towards the sheriff's station. Emma pauses, considering what she should disclose, tucking her thumbs into her pockets. "Or are you the new deputy?" She blinks in surprise.
"Yeah," she answers simply.
"Getting the feel for the outside of the station, then?" He asks jokingly. She silently shakes her head in answer. God, it's like night and day when Jones isn't here. His narrowed eyes flick between Emma and the door to the station. "Or did Regina throw a fit?" Emma can't hold back the small snort at the question. He smirks. "Well, m'dear, why don't you come back inside with me?" She frowns and rocks back a step, confused. "The mayor's power isn't as extensive as she thinks. I believe she needs a reminder of that, don't you?" Who can I tolerate less, the mayor or Gold?
Hands jammed in her pockets, trying to tamp down her rampant confusion at the turn of events, she re-enters the station with Mr. Gold. She didn't notice it outside but in the confined space of the hallway, without the benefit of fresh air, she smells something odd. Like livestock. Emma sniffs and crinkles her nose a bit at the smell.
"Mr. Gold, do you smell that? Something smells like livestock."
He chuckles quietly. "Just me, dearie. That's lanolin. Used in waterproofing. I was working with some in my shop earlier this morning." Emma glances over, nose still crinkled against the smell. "It's the reason why sheep's wool repels water, hence the livestock smell." Emma nods her understanding, trying to be a bit more discrete about the stink.
From the entrance, they can both overhear a continued argument. "Why the hell won't you just do as I say?" Regina shouts. "Remember, Graham, I made you sheriff! I can find someone else just as easily! Just do as I say!" Emma balks a bit as the words echo down the hall.
"Jesus Christ, lady," she mutters.
"Subtlety, not your strong suit, is it, Regina?" Gold mutters beneath his breath.
"At the advice and consent of the mayor, Graham. I'm the mayor." Regina snarls as Emma and Gold enter the bullpen. The sheriff tousles a hand through his hair, sighing wearily, and slumps into his desk chair.
"Oh dearie, that's not the only way." Gold remarks. "May I?" He gestures to the shelf of books behind the sheriff's desk. Sheriff Humbert nods, waving his permission towards the shelf. He quirks a brow in question to Emma. She shrugs uncertainly. The mayor's narrowed eyes flick between Emma and Gold, calculating what must be going on. With a smirk, Gold pulls out a binder containing what appears to be the town charter. He flips through and lands on a page roughly in the middle.
"Gold, what the hell are you-" Regina snarls.
"Please, dearie, be quiet." Her mouth snaps shut. Her brown eyes rage murderously as her nostrils flare. Emma's eyes are wide as they flick between Gold and the mayor. How the hell did he do that? "You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter." He remarks as he flicks through pages, seeking whatever specific information he wants. Regina fumes silently. Emma's eyes flick to Sheriff Humbert's. He looks back with just as much confusion as Emma feels.
"Legal documents, contracts, if you like. Always been a fascination of mine." Gold continues placidly.
"Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities," Regina mutters.
"I like small weapons, you see. The needle, the pen, the fine point of the deal." His words turn Emma's stomach. Deals and Gold, the thought of the two combined makes her nauseous. "Ah, here we are. Now, look at this. It says the sheriff shall appoint a deputy with either the advice and consent of the mayor, or," Gold pauses dramatically, his finger tracing the text. "Or, with a majority vote of the people." He grins smugly at Regina.
"Bastard," the mayor hisses under her breath. Emma blinks. Everything about this is so damn confusing. Gold is helping her secure the position as deputy, and the mayor is resisting her appointment this intensely. Why is Gold helping her? What does he gain from this? Why would he want to? Why does the mayor care this much? Beyond all that, the entire process strikes Emma as a touch convoluted just for a deputy position in a small town. Just how much bureaucracy did the Evil Queen pour into this curse when she cast it? A million little excuses to micromanage.
The mayor blinks, takes a deep breath and composes herself. "I guess we'll learn a little something about the will of the people."
"Why don't I show you out, Madam Mayor?" Sheriff Humbert offers.
Regina glares at everyone in turn but leaves with the sheriff.
"Mr. Gold?" Emma starts. He turns with a pleasant, courteous smile. The sight still unnerves her. "What's the catch? Why help me?" She narrows her eyes, hearing the clacking of heels fading in the distance down the hallway. "What am I gonna owe you for this?"
"Miss Swan, I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I actually do want to see you succeed." Emma balks in surprise when she can't sense a lie in those words. He grins, seeming to discern this, or seeing her surprise. Succeed in what, though? Deputy position, breaking the curse, what? "Finding the information in the town charter is free of charge. Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more." Who exactly are you referring to when you say common enemy? "How would you like a benefactor?"
"A benefactor?" She repeats, frowning in confusion.
"You do know what that would entail, yes?" Emma crosses her arms across her chest.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Gold. And thank you for finding that part in the town charter. But with all due respect, no thank you. You don't do anything for free. I don't want to owe you any more than I already do. And I doubt you do debt forgiveness."
"I understand." He turns to leave. "A word of advice, Miss Swan. You're a brilliant young woman. Keep an open mind. Don't allow the good Captain Jones to bias you." He didn't have to, Emma bites back the words. Gold departs the station with the tap of his cane echoing in the hallway. As Emma stands in the bullpen, the sheriff comes back to join her.
"Miss Swan," he starts. "As the job is apparently a greater pain in the ass to offer than expected, it appears today will not be your first day. It'll be presented to a vote at the next town meeting, which is coming up at the end of the week." He sighs then hands her a binder. "In the meantime, study up on this. Laws, procedures, that sort of thing."
Emma nods. "Well, this has been an exciting first day." She remarks. Feeling a bit defeated, and sensing the sheriff's dismissal, she leaves and takes a trip around town. The early reconnaissance was one thing. This is now a walk to clear her head. Gold offered to help, which is weird. He has no reason to do that, does he?
Along a trail, she spots David walking with Mary Margaret. More accurately, Prince Charming is chasing Snow White down the street. Mom and Dad, apparently, she thinks to herself. That will never not be a weird thought. Whatever's going on, they seem to be arguing about something. She catches the word 'married' and figures exactly what it is. Katherine Nolan is providing the exact roadblock that Regina wanted her to. Even knowing there are problems there, as miserable as the two look, Emma turns and walks away. Meddling in strangers' love lives isn't really something she wants to do. Meddling in her parents' love lives, that just isn't happening.
She returns to the docks, half-considering taking Fitz up on the offer of a flamethrower. No, Emma, that's not what a sheriff's deputy would do. That's what an impulsive child would do. You need to prove you're not an impulsive child. Emma returns to the Jolly, helping sharpen the swords, cutlasses and knives in the armory after a brief explanation of what occured at the station.
"The Dark One advised you to not allow me to bias you?" Jones chuckles darkly. Emma shrugs, not glancing up from the cutlass in her hand. "Bastard," he mutters. He looks her in the eye. "Hell, you'll never hear me say this again, but he's right. You shouldn't allow me to bias you."
"You didn't have to, Captain," Emma mutters dryly. "Either the binder tracking me over the years, his commentary, or being sent to track a runaway and retrieve a baby managed that just fine." She punctuates each point with a thrust of the whetstone in her hand. They both turn back to the blades.
"You refused the offer?" She feels his eyes burning a hole in her head, so she confronts them with her own.
"In no uncertain terms," she answers. He huffs a response, focusing back on the blade in his hand. Sharpening the blades takes them until lunch, after which they address the guns and cannons. She's almost surprised by the sheer number of weapons on board. At the end of the day, she reads through the entire binder, twice. The second time around makes significantly more sense.
The next morning, they're at Granny's for breakfast. As the bell on the door chimes, every patron looks in their direction. Shifty, suspicious eyes, all directed at her. She balks a bit, turning to Ruby, the only one not glaring.
"You didn't see this morning's paper, did you?" Ruby asks quietly. She slides the folded newspaper across the countertop. In bold letters across the front of the Daily Mirror, reads the words 'Ex?-Con Emma Swan for Deputy?' above her mugshot from the second arrest in town, next to a mugshot from Phoenix. The two are about six months apart. The differences are a bit striking. In Storybrooke, she looks visibly older, not just by a few months.
Her heart thuds in her chest. Her mouth goes dry. She stumbles a few steps backward, bumping into Jones. His hand steadies her shoulder and rights her balance as she stares at the words. Slowly, she swallows, then meets his steady eyes with a nod. "Sorry," she mumbles. He nods.
Emma skims through. The article describes the twenty-thousand dollars worth of watches she was arrested for. Sidney Glass really makes sure to emphasize the lenience of the judge, conveniently neglecting the reason the judge was so lenient in her case. He includes some of the cases she got caught stealing before. He then mentions the books the mayor had her arrested for stealing. He fails to mention the charges were dismissed due to a lack of evidence. Sidney caps off by asking if someone who has demonstrated a pattern of theft is indeed fit to be a deputy in a sleepy, peaceful, little town like Storybrooke.
If she weren't so vexed, she might be willing to hand it to him. Sidney Glass carefully stuck to the facts. He's lying with the truth, but he is exclusively reporting facts. It's crafty and conniving, but this is carefully constructed. He pruned off any slightly redeeming facts. He also excluded anything that could possibly make this seem illegal from his end, like mentioning her age. And while he mentions the election at the town meeting, he never explicitly directs readers to vote no. He allows his editorial presented as informative news to do that for him.
Glancing up from the paper, she sees the mayor smirking from a barstool at the counter. "Everyone deserves to feel safe in their own homes. The people deserve to make an informed decision, don't you think, Miss Swan?" Every instinct Emma has screams at her to do something. Fight and run seem to be the top two contenders. She opts for neither.
Instead, she composes herself. "You're right, Madam Mayor. They do." She slides the paper back across to Ruby with a mouthed 'thanks' and turns to escape the diner. She stops herself, though, with a frown. Don't run from her, don't run from this. Stand and fight. "Who here hasn't made a mistake they regret and tried to turn their life around, though?" Emma addresses the door then turns back around to face the diner. The patrons glance at each other. "Who here hasn't tried to make up for their mistakes? Yeah, I've screwed up in the past. I'm trying to make up for it now." The patrons seem to nod, either understandingly or approvingly. A few shrug and return to their meals without care. Ruby winks with a grin. Jones leans back against the counter, smirking at the fuming mayor.
The bell chimes over the door and the sheriff walks in. He grins and nods at Emma. His eyes flick between the fuming mayor and the potential deputy fighting hard to not go on the defensive.
Quickly, he borrows the paper from the nearest booth and slams it back down on the table. "Regina, the deputy position is my employee. It's my department. I decide who I hire. This," he stabs the paper with his finger. "This is bullshit and you know it, Regina." He glares at the mayor.
"They deserve to know her crimes against this town."
"Crimes," the sheriff shakes his head in disgust. "Do you mean the book of fairy tales that there was no proof came from the library? Or the car manual that there was no evidence Emma Swan ever even touched?"
"Graham," the mayor hisses.
"I did my due diligence after you had me arrest her. Her fingerprints were nowhere on the car manual. And the fairy tales weren't in the catalog and lacked any markings to even suggest the book came from the library. Now, who I hire as deputy remains my decision to make in my department. You slandering Emma Swan is bullshit and you know it, Regina."
"You wasted resources proving her innocence?" Old residual feelings of suffering the punishment for a crime she didn't commit drag up from where she purposefully rammed them down. Anger, hurt, and outrage swirl in her mind.
"The law is innocent until proven guilty, Madam Mayor," Emma interjects quietly.
The sheriff looks at her with a slight smile. The mayor turns with a contemptuous glare. "I didn't waste resources, Regina. I did my job, and I will continue doing my job to fight for the people in this town."
"Then fight for the people in this town, Sheriff. This is how the town charter has us hire a deputy, as a town." He shakes his head in disgust and stalks out the door with a chime and a slam. Regina seems utterly confused at the reaction, then glares at the door. As the mayor leaves, she produces a tense, awkward silence in her wake.
"Coffee and whatever I'd recommend, then pancakes and hot cocoa, cinnamon?" Ruby asks, shattering the tension with a wink. Both Emma and Jones nod as they each take a barstool. The bell chimes again and Emma smothers a groan, propping her head against her arm.
"Morning," she hears David Nolan's voice beside her. She looks over to see his sunshine smile and sky-blue eyes. It makes her perk up just a touch before panic starts to set in. There's no avoiding the newspaper.
"Morning, Mr. Nolan," she answers, forcing a smile. Pretend everything's okay, and he won't be able to tell, she tells herself. He glances around the diner with a slightly confused frown.
"Hey, uh Re-Ruby. What's all, uh, this about?" He gestures around. Ruby slides the paper across the counter with a sigh. David's face falls. With it, Emma's heart plummets into her stomach. She squirms in her seat. She's tempted to run to the bathroom, or across town, to escape the upset look on David's, her father's, face. "Is this a lie?" He asks in a hoarse whisper.
"No," Emma answers emotionlessly.
"You were in jail?" His voice is somehow fainter, shakier.
"Yes." Emma sighs. Straightening her shoulders, she turns to try and look David in the eye. Shame and guilt have her addressing his plaid flannel sleeve on the counter. "It happened. It was a mistake. I'm not about to repeat it. Now, let's throw this out, and we will get our news from something more reliable, like the Internet."
"The screaming demon box?" Jones asks. Ruby laughs, filling another order.
"Yep." Emma pokes at her pancakes. Her gut seems to be filled with lead as she sees David staring at the counter in her periphery. He's barely looked at her since she confirmed the newspaper was telling the truth. Why she should feel shame from the disappointment radiating off of David Nolan, simply because he's technically her father makes absolutely no sense to her. So what he's her father and obviously disappointed in her? The man's never been in her life. She's gone this long without his approval, she can go longer. Nevertheless, she can feel herself trying to shrug the tension off her shoulders. He leaves with two coffees to go and barely a glance in her direction. Emma feels herself deflate, wrapping her arms around herself.
"He hates me," she whispers, not even stabbing at her food anymore.
"Doubtful," Jones answers. "Most likely, he hates himself. He likely feels responsible, likely feels as though he failed you." She glances over, surprised. He flashes her a wry grin. "You're a difficult person to hate, Swan." Most of the people I have ever known would disagree with you on that front.
"Thanks," she mumbles skeptically.
The bell over the door chimes again. In her periphery, she sees Jones' jaw clench so hard it seems to pop out under the scruff. Without hearing the tap of the cane, she knows exactly who enters. Today just keeps getting better and better. She hears the rustling of a newspaper and smothers a groan.
"Such an injustice," he remarks mildly.
"Yeah, well, what can you do?" She mutters.
"Spoken like a true fighter." Jones manages to disguise his scoff for coughing.
"Respectfully, Mr. Gold, I just know my only avenues to challenge this. The biggest thing that would condemn Sidney Glass and Regina Mills for this would also disqualify me from the job. My age makes this illegal, but it also nixes the job. So that's out. This was carefully crafted so that every word is technically truthful, so slander and libel are out. Not like I could put up a lawsuit to begin with." There's a disturbingly satisfied look in his eye at the mention of a lawsuit. "So, schoolyard tactics get schoolyard solutions." She smiles grimly. "I'm gonna ignore this bullshit and prove myself anyways."
"My offer still stands." He says quietly.
"As I said yesterday, Mr. Gold, thank you but no thank you."
"Usually quite the little spitfire, Swan," Jones says, keeping his voice carefully level.
Mr. Gold takes his to-go cup and paper bag. He pays Ruby at the counter and then looks back at Emma with an unnerving smile. Chills skitter down her spine. "Good luck, Miss Swan." Emma stares him down until she hears the bell chime behind him.
As they finish and Jones fishes Nelson's wallet from his duster, he turns to her. "There's something I need to investigate in the woods. The Crocodile hid something there, and I intend to find out what. Keep out of trouble, aye?"
Emma nods her agreement. She walks around town. She intends to knock door-to-door and campaign with individuals, but as she approaches the first house and works up her nerve, a crowd approaches. Her heart starts to thud against her chest. Her mouth goes parched. Emma freezes in place, eyes darting around the crowd. Over some shoulders, she sees Ashley Boyd and Sean Herman, both with weary smiles. As she glances through the crowd, she notes most are more curious. No one here is particularly hostile. Yet.
"So you're gonna be the new deputy?" A man asks.
"I'm throwing my hat in the ring. It's up to you to vote." Emma answers carefully.
"And how the hell do you explain this?" Another man holds up this morning's paper.
Emma sighs. "It was a mistake that I have no intention of repeating."
"Bullshit, a mistake! This is a pattern! Not repeating, you're full of it!"
Somehow, her remarks from the diner don't seem adequate. A few more in the crowd are glaring at her. Her instincts are screaming at her to run. Run fast and run far. The intent to ignore the hit-piece in the paper seems a bit naive right about now. "It was a mistake. It's in the past. I've served my time and learned my lesson. Moving forward, I'd like to make up for it."
"It ain't in the past is what I'm saying!" She can't pick out which one of the now growing crowd is speaking. Simply that the voice comes from an outraged man. "The fact it happened here-"
"There wasn't…it wasn't…" Emma shakes her head. Purposefully bracing herself against hunching inward, she looks each and every person in the eye, one at a time. "I didn't steal anything from the Storybrooke Library. If I had, Sheriff Humbert wouldn't have let me go. I'd be sitting in jail. That's something Sidney Glass failed to mention. I didn't steal anything."
"Insufficient evidence. So you got off on a technicality!" The man shouts. Emma can feel herself floundering as her eyes search for an escape. No, Emma, stand and fight, dammit! Cowards run.
"Innocent," her voice tremors. Her eyes dart around for an escape. Squaring her shoulders, she stands her ground and clears her throat. "Innocent until proven guilty is the law of the land here in this great nation," Emma answers carefully, voice carrying above her nerves. Her words are deliberate and slow, annunciated clearly. "Sheriff Humbert believes in that and so do I." She takes a bracing, deep breath and squares her shoulders. "I'd like to do good in this community. But whether or not I do that as sheriff's deputy is up to you, the people. Voice your opinions by casting your vote at the town meeting." Figuring that's the best she's going to get as far as a conclusion, Emma turns and walks away, mindful of her pace. Mindful to not appear to be running away.
She occupies her day with considering the town, more reconnaissance for the curse. At least now she knows her way around. A sheriff's deputy should know that, right? She finds a spot on a bench by the docks to read through the binder from Graham again. The laws make sense, the limits on police power click, and the procedures flow through her mind. Once again, a group approaches her at the docks. Most of them are workers from the cannery. None of them seem quite so angry as the earlier crowd. A few look skeptical at the idea of her being deputy, and she can't blame them. But the crowd disperses and Emma returns to her binder.
The crashing sound of breaking glass rips her from her concentration. Her head perks up. She slaps the binder down on the bench and sprints in the direction before she even knows where she's heading. Two shadows grapple on the ground, punching and shoving each other as she rounds the corner to the Rabbit Hole. Before she can think through her actions, Emma seizes the closest one by the arm and wrenches him backward. He flings her off roughly, making her stumble back a few steps. The man swings hard at his opponent, striking him in the gut. As the other is doubled over, Emma grips the man's arms and hauls him backward with all her weight behind it. He stumbles into her, drunk and unsteady enough to nearly lose his hat, unbalancing her on her feet. His opponent takes a rough, ungainly swing, slow enough Emma manages to block it.
"HEY! BREAK IT UP!" She hollers. She already has Baseball-cap by the arm and hauls backward, several drunken steps away from his opponent. Both she recognizes from the cannery. "Break it up." She plants herself between them, a palm up against both. Red-shirt gets up from the ground, while Baseball-cap glares at him through Emma. They both catch their breaths like bulls preparing to stampede. What are my chances if they both decide to charge? Slim to none.
Flashing red and blue lights precede the running footsteps. Emma sighs quietly in relief. The sheriff runs to the scene. His eyes flick around. He takes in the smashed window and broken glass on the ground, the cuts on both Red-shirt and Baseball-cap. Finally, he notes the two of them glaring at each other past Emma standing in the middle. He sighs. "Gentlemen, what happened?" He asks carefully. "I heard about a barfight."
Red-shirt, Mitch, apparently shorted Baseball-cap, Ian, on a bet on the game. So the appropriate response, several drinks in, seems to be punching him and knocking him through a window. Graham cuffs both and secures them both in the back of his cruiser. He turns to Emma with a slight frown.
"And your involvement in this?"
"I was just down the docks, heard glass break, came to investigate." She answers.
He sighs. "Alright, Miss Swan. If you wouldn't mind coming along down to the station. Observe the process from the other side of the bars." She rides along to the station. She helps as much as she's able as Graham administers first aid, then watches as he takes statements from both men. He locks them in the holding cells of the station for the evening. In his office, she sits on the opposite side of his desk as he calls the Rabbit Hole, requesting the bartender to come in the next morning to give a statement.
"What about the damage?" She asks quietly.
"That's on their insurance company," he answers without looking up. The phone rings a few moments later. "Sheriff's station," he answers gruffly. His face turns annoyed in an instant. "Madam Mayor, I-" Emma can hear the mayor's voice through the phone but can't distinguish the words. "Madam Mayor, that's really not the best-" Again, the mayor cuts him off. "Fine." He slams the phone back down to hang up. Emma watches with wide eyes.
"It seems the mayor would like a word with you. How she knew you were here, I don't know. Do you need a ride over to City Hall?" Emma shakes her head. "You know where it is?" Emma nods. Down a few blocks lit by streetlights, she walks into City Hall. Construction equipment and tarps lie where the workers set them out of the way for the night, to pick them back up in the morning.
She walks through the tarped hallway, glancing around and following the tape lines. Most of the offices have their lights turned off. A woman with headphones and a Walkman pushes a cleaning cart and offers a small smile and wave. Emma waves back as she walks to the mayor's office. Knocking on the door, she enters at Regina's haughty invitation.
"Madam Mayor, you wanted to see me?" Something about this meeting feels distinctly like being called to the principal's office. Emma's almost certain that's intentional on Regina's part. Well, if the mayor expects an errant, apologetic child she can cow into compliance, she's about to be disappointed.
"Yes," she answers. "I want to make peace, Miss Swan." Emma quirks a skeptical brow. She glances around the cold marble office, the black and white decor with all the comfort of an airport lounge. It screams luxury, not welcoming, not open. On her desk is a Tupperware.
"Make peace," Emma deadpans, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes, make peace."
"What's that?" Emma asks, pointing at the Tupperware.
"A peace offering," the mayor answers. Her voice is far too forceful to be sincere. "I make a mean apple pie, Miss Swan." Emma crosses her arms across her chest, making no move to step forward to accept the 'offering'. Jones chucking an apple over his shoulder with the barked order not to eat it comes to mind. The mayor paints an innocent smile on her face. "What's more American than apple pie?"
"Defying a tyrant," Emma answers, scarcely attempting to suppress her anger.
"A tyrant? Is that what you believe I am?" She feigns innocence, eyebrows arching.
"Yes," Emma answers simply. "Madam Mayor, the stunt with the paper was an abuse of power and you know it. It was an illegal abuse of power, and you know it. Planting the books to have me arrested was an abuse of power. And I think if I cared to, I'd be able to readily find more examples of your abuses of power." Her mind returns to the alley, two nights in a row, then again after finding out David was her father, and the mayor's suggestions in the hospital. "If that's what I'm able to find against one person in about two weeks, imagine what I could uncover over the course of your career. You think you can demonstrate a pattern of my behavior? I'll be able to demonstrate one of yours. Roll the dice on who comes off looking worse."
"Miss Swan, all I did was expose the truth. And as for the legality, I did nothing wrong."
"What? Instead, your lackey did? The entire town seems to know that Sidney Glass would do just about anything for you, Madam Mayor." She thinks for a moment. "Y'know, as far as that tyrant thing goes, it generally doesn't look good for a democracy when the chief editor of the only news in town is so buddy-buddy with the mayor. Kind of makes it seem like the watchdog role of the media looks the other way when the mayor gets her hands dirty, or isn't afraid to bend the rules to help the mayor's agenda."
"Are you implying something, Miss Swan?"
"Yes, I am."
"And how do you plan on digging anything up on me, Miss Swan? Accepting Gold's offer?" The thought rankles. Regina begins packing her bag to leave for the night, turning off the lights as she does. Emma follows her out as she continues with her warnings. "He's a snake, Miss Swan. Be careful who you get into bed with."
"I appreciate the warning," Emma answers dryly, shuddering at the mental image. "I'm not getting into bed with anyone."
"Miss Swan, if you truly feel I did anything wrong, and if you can produce any definitive proof, you can bring that up when you speak before the town meeting." Emma stops in her tracks, staring silently at the mayor. No one said anything about that. The mayor, realizing she's no longer following, turns with a satisfied smile. "It does involve a vote, Miss Swan. Therefore, you will need to present yourself to the town. I hope that won't be an issue." She simpers, mocking sympathy. Her heels clack down the hallway and echo through the stairwell.
"No, not at all," Emma states, choking back 'Yes, it fucking is!' and internal panic.
"Lovely," the mayor replies. "You're playing with the big boys and girls-"
An explosion cuts off the mayor's response. The blast knocks them both back onto the stairs. Fire licks at the walls, climbing rapidly. Thick smoke clouds the air. A wall of heat takes the room. Sirens shriek. Emma glances over her shoulder and sees Regina on the ground, some debris on her ankle knocked there from the blast. Coughing against the smoke, they both push it off.
"Alright, come on," Emma chokes out, regaining her feet. "We gotta get out of here."
"I can't move!" the mayor desperately cries, still on the stairs. Emma's wide eyes flick between the fire climbing the walls, the smoke clouding the air, and the mayor reaching toward her. "You have to get me out! Help me!"
Glass breaks as the fire destroys the walls. Emma's eyes flick around, seeking an escape, searching for a plan of some kind. She recalls what she saw on her way in. Gritting her teeth, she starts towards the fire. The mayor seizes hold of her wrist with a desperate glare.
"You're gonna leave me, aren't you?" Thought never crossed my mind, lady. Emma wrenches her arm away, covers her head, and dashes into the roaring fire. Heat licks at her skin. Just past the doorway, she grabs a fire extinguisher, wrenches out the pin, and squeezes the nozzle for dear life. Foam bursts out in a hiss, coating the fire on the ground. Flames are still eating away at the walls and smoke still clouds the air as she pulls the mayor's arm around her shoulders and shoots foam as they make their escape.
The mayor hobbles along and both cough as they clear the exit to fresh, bracing air. White light flashes in front of Emma's eyes. A photographer with an older-looking camera snaps a photo. "Oh, oh, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!" The mayor protests loudly as Emma lowers her to the ground carefully. A small crowd has formed.
"Seriously? You're complaining about how I saved your life?" Emma coughs, wiping at her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Someone screams over the sound of the roaring fire. Her eyes snap back to city hall. Someone's still inside. Without a thought, she scoops up the fire extinguisher from the ground and sprints back into the smoke and flames.
"Hello!" She calls out as loud as she can, coughing immediately after. Smoke stings her eyes and burns her throat. Her voice sounds hoarse to her own ears. "Hello?" she calls out again. "Can you hear me? Is anybody still here?" Shooting foam at the fire, Emma runs into the building.
"Help! Please, somebody help me!" A faint call echoes from the far end of the second floor. Fire has climbed up the walls, eating the exposed drywall from construction. Supports and beams start to char. "Help!"
"Keep talking!" Emma calls back in response, coughing. "I'm coming!"
Rapidly, she dashes through the fire licking at her heels. A beam collapses from the ceiling in front of Emma, sending up sparks. She deftly avoids it, coughing against the smoke and advancing towards the voice. Pops and bursts shoot sparks as the fire catches chemicals. Debris lies across the doorway to the bathroom, scattered among the contents of a cleaning cart. "I'm here. I'm gonna get you out!" She reaches out for the first piece she can grip. Twisted, heated metal scalds her hands. Hissing in pain, she retracts her hands. Enveloping them with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she grips the metal again, and struggles but manages to pitch it aside.
Glass shatters above the roar. Shouldn't I hear sirens? Cracks begin to echo. Emma glances over her shoulder to see some of the support beams beginning to catch fire as well. Bright, burning orange flames consume the hall around her. Glaring, she turns back to the pile of debris barring the door.
Kicking and shoving, she knocks it aside. Her lungs are starting to protest the overheated, smoke-filled air. She's starting to feel woozy and knows she needs to escape, right now. Every instinct is commanding her to get the woman behind this door and fucking run. Dark smoke clouds the air, stinging her eyes and making it damn near impossible to see.
Emma reaches out blindly, but can't feel the door. Her hand connects with what feels like an arm. "You okay? Can you move?" she coughs out hoarsely.
"Yeah, I can." A woman's voice answers. Clinging to each other and sweeping the fire extinguisher, they both escape down the burning stairs as quickly as they can. One of the beams falls with a loud crack, sending up sparks. They stumble through the door to recognize the flashing lights of a fire truck. More small white pops flash before her eyes as Emma stumbles to the cool, dewy grass.
Cold, wet dew feels relieving on her overheated skin. Part of her is almost okay with the fact she's practically breathing in dirt, coughing and panting to catch her breath after so long in the building. Her eyes wearily flick to where the woman and Regina are both with paramedics. Sweat from the heat has soot clinging to her skin.
A paramedic prods her to her feet, and she reluctantly complies with a groan. She bandages Emma's hands, wincing sympathetically as Emma hisses curses and tries to resist pulling away. The mayor lies on a stretcher with an oxygen mask that she rips off with impatience. The woman from inside places a gentle hand on Emma's shoulder.
"You saved me, hon." She says hoarsely. Emma shrugs and shakes her head minutely. Any grander expressions will make her dizzy. She's still too busy recovering her breath to issue a proper response.
"It's not like we were really in danger," Regina shoots back. "The firemen were here."
"She got me out of a burning building. Hon, you're a hero." Emma shakes her head.
"I never did catch your name," Emma whispers, voice too hoarse to do much else and desperate to direct focus to anything but herself. There's a radiant look in the woman's warm brown eyes. The dimples of her smile are smudged with soot.
"Marge, hon. You're Emma, right? The deputy?"
"The election still hasn't been decided," the mayor interjects harshly before Emma can answer. Emma shrugs while inclining her head in the mayor's direction. Technically, the answer is accurate. And Emma hasn't regained her breath sufficiently to answer yet.
"Well, you've got my vote." Emma smiles wearily. The mayor scoffs.
Firelight glinting off black leather snags Emma's eye out of the periphery. Frantic sea-blue eyes meet hers. I'm in trouble, she thinks to herself. Quietly, she excuses herself, climbs to her feet, and meets Jones halfway.
"Swan! Are you alright?" His eyes scan her face, searching for any sign of injury. He lands on her hands and takes one gently in his, raising it to inspect it. Emma nods a few times, trying to reassure him. She stops nodding when her head starts spinning and she starts feeling woozy. He sighs a bit in relief, then quirks one of those annoying eyebrows. "This is keeping out of trouble?"
"It's not like I-"
"Doesn't matter," he says, shaking his head, hand gripping her shoulder. She's not sure if he's steadying her on her feet or reassuring himself that she's unharmed. Either way, she's happy about it. "That was teasing. What matters is you're alive and well." Emma blinks in shock, her mouth going slack. He chuckles a bit. His blue eyes remain frantic.
"I'm fine," she answers.
"I know you well enough to know you downplay and hide injuries, Swan."
She nods in acknowledgment. "True, Captain, but I am fine. Paramedics patched me up." She holds up both hands in demonstration. "Everyone got out okay. That's what matters." Emma sighs. In her peripheral vision, she notices a crowd and overhears something about 'posters' and 'see if they got a picture' but she doesn't fully understand the context.
The firemen work to clear out the building. In their pile, she spots a charred strip of cloth. Her eyes go wide and without another thought, she moves towards it, almost drawn to it. She nudges it with the toe of her shoes, frown on her face. "What the hell?" she whispers.
Crouching down, she picks it up and takes a step back from the pile. Sniffing it, she's taken aback. It doesn't smell like gasoline. It stinks like sheep. Emma crinkles her nose at the smell and frowns in confusion. "Smells like wool," she mutters. Jones is staring at the cloth in her hand with narrowed eyes. She can see the wheels turning.
"Lanolin," a new voice says from over her shoulder. She turns to see David, fear and panic on his face, eyes scanning hers. "Kiddo, are you okay?" She nods. "I'm sorry, about the other day, it was-"
"Lanolin?" She asks, cutting off the apology she doesn't want to hear.
"Yeah, it's why sheep wool repels water. Also helps soothe any nicks they get when you shear them." She quirks a brow in question. He shrugs and explains. "I was a shepherd. The kingdom needed Prince James more than they needed David the shepherd."
Jones gently takes the cloth from her hands. "You know who else would know that?" Her eyes flick to his face. His jaw pops out underneath the dark scruff. "A man who made a living spinning wool." David's brow furrows. "One who set fire to a castle using wool soaked in lanolin to become the bloody Dark One," Jones grits through his teeth. The anger and darkness of his tone compel Emma to take a cautious step back. David's eyes widen.
"Or a guy who owns a pawnshop and uses it to waterproof his stuff." Emma suggests quietly. Jones' glare turns to her. It sends fear shivering down her spine. "Either way, Gold."
They both storm their way down Main Street, towards Gold's pawnshop. Emma slams the door open with a crash and a jangle of the bell. Mr. Gold is standing at the display case in the back, cleansing his hands carefully with a cloth. "Do hope you're not going to break my little bell," he remarks sarcastically.
"You set the fire," Emma grits out the accusation, holding the charred cloth.
He huffs. "I've been right here, Miss Swan."
She approaches the end of the shop, brandishing the cloth as proof. "Take a whiff. It smells like your sheep crap oil. Turns out it's flammable."
"Are you sure?" He asks, barely attempting to feign innocence. "There's some construction work going on at City Hall at the moment." He gestures towards the door. "There's loads of flammable solvents used in construction."
"That's the excuse you're going to offer?" Jones grits out from the doorway. Gold glares.
"Why did you do it?" Emma asks quietly.
"If I did it," he moves behind the counter. "If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big." She feels burning eyes glaring into her back. Her heart hammers away in her chest. What breath she's managed to recover since emerging from the burning City Hall rushes from her lungs in a quiet gasp. "Something like, oh, I don't know," he suggests with a flourish of his hand. "Being the hero in a fire?"
"How could you even know I'd be there at the right time?" she whispers in shock.
"Maybe Regina's not the only one with eyes and ears in this town. Or maybe I'm just intuitive." He suggests. "Were I involved," he tacks on at a whisper.
"I could have run and left them there," Emma bluffs.
"Not the type," Gold calls her on it in a whisper.
"I told you I didn't want your help," she protests.
"Well, dearie, you were truly floundering without it. Flopping like a fish on a deck. I saw your talks with citizens out there," he points to the door. "Pitiful, truly. Simply ignoring Regina, now that tactic may work in a schoolyard, Miss Swan, but you're playing with the big boys and girls now. You're fighting for the grown-up job, you're going to have to deal with this like a grown-up. Ignoring Regina isn't going to work."
"So arson is how grown-ups deal with their problems?" Emma shouts. He smiles.
"Everything with you comes with a price," Jones grits out. "Name yours." Gold chuckles.
"Perhaps, Captain, I simply want to beat Regina. Were I involved."
Emma shakes her head. "I can't go along with this."
"You just did," Gold says with a smirk. Emma consciously keeps herself from rocking back a step. "Removing the one piece of what would be key evidence, tainting it, hardly police procedure, Miss Swan. I would expect a sheriff's deputy to know that. That's, at minimum, tampering with evidence and removing it from the scene. Given that you tampered with it, it makes you complicit with whoever committed arson." Emma's heart sinks into her stomach.
"Threatening the lass to keep her quiet?" Jones snarls out.
"This is the price of election, Miss Swan." Gold explains as if Jones hadn't spoken.
"A price I'm not willing to pay." She tosses the charred cloth on the counter.
"Okay, go ahead, expose me," Gold bluffs as she turns to leave. "But if you do, just think about what you'll be exposing. What you'd be walking away from." She walks out the door, opening it far more gently this time. "Oh yes, and um, who you might be disappointing." She shakes her head and leaves, slamming the door hard enough she hears the off-putting clang of the bell falling to the floor. Through the glass, she observes Jones brandishing his hook in a threat and maintains the Swiss approach.
Jones meets her a block down the street, glaring at the road in front of them. "Did you find what you were looking for in the woods, Captain?" she asks quietly two blocks closer to the docks. He shakes his head silently.
Two days later, Emma pulls on her nicest clothes from the bottom of her bag. A red blouse and black slacks that her social worker found before her court date. Her stomach feels ready to devour itself with her nerves. Gold's involvement and the fire caused her to look like a hero. Word spread about the bar fight she broke up just before the fire at City Hall. By all accounts, it doesn't matter what she declares before the town meeting. So long as she doesn't get up to the podium and puke, she'll be fine.
Except that's exactly what she's going to do. She's going to get up to that wooden podium and vomit. In front of the entire town. It might even be projectile. The front few rows may be in the splash zone. Guilt churns with the fear of public speaking, the fear of the consequences of what she did and the absolute terror of the unknown.
Sitting in her seat on the stage in the school auditorium, her eyes are wide and staring without seeing. Her ears are ringing. She can barely hear Dr. Hopper advising everyone to vote their conscience. Yes or no. The lights are far too intense. Her heart is hammering in her chest. Her mouth goes dry. In the crowd, she identifies Mr. Gold, sitting calmly, like he didn't just torch City Hall. She sees Marge give an encouraging thumbs up that only makes her more anxious.
Carefully taking deep breaths, in and out, Emma tries to relax. Her ears are still ringing far too loudly to hear Graham's speech at the podium. Something about proving effective, mentioning the fire and the bar fight right before it? Mentioning the ridiculous hoops Regina requires everyone to jump through? God, is that sound her heartbeat? Kinda fast, isn't it? Her sweaty palms brush down her pant legs and it's all she can do to prevent herself from fidgeting.
"And, Emma Swan," Dr. Hopper's voice at the podium spikes her already hammering heartbeat. He glances back with an encouraging smile. Graham pats her on the shoulder as she rises to her feet and approaches the podium on shaking knees like she's walking to the gallows.
Unsteadily, she places her hands on the podium and stares out at the crowd, bearing each and every pair of eyes. Blue, brown, green, gray, hazel, all different colors. She gathers a tremulous breath and proceeds. "You guys all know I have what they call a, uh, troubled past. But you've been able to overlook it because of the, um, the hero thing." She pauses, gathering her nerve. "But here's the thing." She recognizes David's eyes in the crowd. They crinkle at the corners when he smiles encouragingly. "The fire was a set-up." Murmurs and whispers rise in the crowd as they turn to each other. "Mr. Gold chose to support me in this election, but I didn't know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don't have definitive evidence. In fact, the evidence I had, I tried confronting him with, thus taking it from the scene." More murmurs rise from the crowd. She notes Graham's eyes on the back of her head. "But I'm sure. And the worst part of all this is I let you all think it was real. And I can't do this that way. I'm sorry." She sees Mr. Gold rise from his seat and vacate the auditorium, tapping his cane against the floor. Without another word, she turns and leaves.
Jones intercepts her outside. Without a word, they both head for Granny's. They sit at a table under the lights on the patio. Emma plops her elbows on the table and leans her head against her hands. Jones sits silently, not pushing, no insistence on whether she did the right thing or not. Not a mention of the words 'brave' or 'hero'.
"Felt like I was gonna puke," she groans into her hands.
"Confronting the Crocodile publicly?"
"Public speaking," she mutters. He chuckles. "Last time I spoke like that, it was messy."
"Well, Princess, I suppose it's something you'll have to practice." She balks, then glances up, eyes wide in shock.
"What did you just call me?"
He smirks. "Princess." She scowls. "While the throne may have been contested, Snow White maintained the claim by blood. The daughter of a queen is a princess, Swan." Jones explains with a tone suggesting he's explaining two plus two. Emma groans, head flopping onto her arms. He chuckles at the dramatic display.
"God, that's worse than Savior," she mutters. He laughs.
Heels clack up the sidewalk and pull Emma to sit up straight. Regina strides confidently down the street, followed by Graham. Emma quirks a brow in question, watching. The mayor reaches the table with a clearly forced smile stretched across her face. "Congratulations, Deputy Swan," she grits through her teeth. Emma's eyes widen.
"Wait, what?"
She sighs. "There was a very close vote, but people really seem to like the idea of a deputy brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold." Emma balks.
"Are you joking?"
"She isn't joking," Graham answers.
"You didn't pick a great friend in Mr. Gold, Miss Swan. But he does make a superlative enemy." Regina's eyes flick to Jones as he smothers his noise of agreement. "Enjoy that," she offers an insincere smile and leaves.
"Take two, Monday morning, seven-thirty, deputy." Graham pats her on the shoulder. "I promise, you never have to speak to crowds ever again." Emma sighs in relief as he chuckles and leaves. Emma smiles.
Monday morning, seven o'clock, she paces nervously outside of the sheriff's station. She just fought so damn hard, just to secure the job. It's a good thing. A legitimate foothold in the community. And now, it's one position that Regina doesn't maintain absolute control of. It's a threat to her total control under the curse.
A cane taps against the sidewalk. Ice-cold fear spikes through her veins. Her stomach sinks. "Congratulations, Deputy Swan." Emma glares as Mr. Gold approaches with an insincere smile. "I meant what I said, Miss Swan. I do actually want to see you succeed."
"You do know I'm armed, right?" she grits through her teeth.
"It's all part of the act, my dear," he remarks, completely unconcerned as Emma reaches for the knife tucked in her pant leg. "Political theater in an actual theater. I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality. And I'm afraid saving Regina's ass from a fire wasn't gonna do now. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me. And they did."
"No way." She shakes her head in denial. "There's no way you planned that."
"Everyone's afraid of Regina. But they are more afraid of me." He points to himself. "By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way." Emma's mouth goes dry. Her stomach sinks.
"You knew I'd agree," she whispers.
"Oh yes," he nods. "I know how to recognize a desperate soul."
I'm not desperate! Yeah, okay, I'm struggling on breaking the curse, but I'm not desperate! Not enough that setting fire to government property to manipulate me is a valid solution! "Why did you do it?"
"We made a deal sometime back, Miss Swan. We established that you owe me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling, owing someone," he says in mock sympathy. "Now that you're deputy, I'm sure we'll find some way for you to pay back what you owe me." He turns to leave down the street as her stomach drops. "Congratulations again, Miss Swan."