Chapter XLIX

Social Butterflies

AN: This update is brought to you by Covid19 and my furlough from work.

Emma Swan stared at herself in the mirror. She was definitely not hiding in The Mayor's Office. Regina's office. Because Regina was still Mayor. She had to be. Even though the town idiots had chased her out, she was still in charge. Everyone wanted to pretend otherwise, Emma knew better. Regina was still handling phone calls and signing checks. She'd helped her with the budgeting, the uniforms, books, and policies. Regina gave her help, coaching, hand-holding and a big kiss for luck. Also index cards with her speech and answers and staff on them.

Emma tugged at her tie and sighed. She'd already had a disciplinary meeting with her deputy-dad. She being anyone's supervisor was weird. The fact that he was also her father bordered on ridiculous.

Regina had kept her calm and organized, assured her that she could do this. If Regina kept it up for a few years, Emma might believe her one day. When she'd told Regina that, the woman had laughed then poofed away.

Regina was certain that the crowd waiting outside did not want to hear from the Evil Queen. Emma disagreed. The town needed its mayor now more than ever. There were way more Regina Mills supporters than Evil Queen haters in Storybrooke. Even people that she'd done wrong, like Kathryn, still supported her. That was a conversation (argument) for another day, though.

Emma squared her shoulders. She'd watched hundreds of hours of Law and Order. They had press conferences all the time. It would be easy. She would give her speech, answer a few questions, smile, wave and then go to commercial break. Easy.

She checked the clock and grumbled a few curses under her breath. It was time for the show to start. She took one last deep and calming breath and walked out to hit her cue.

The podium, complete with microphones (so many!) attached, sat at the front of Town Hall. It was between the middle two pillars. The scene was all framed up so she would be the center of attention. Great.

The TV news had sent their crew and Sidney (finally out of hiding) was there too. There was way more press than she expected. Two kids from the High School were there for their paper too. A handful of twenty-somethings in tee-shirts marked The Storybrooke Herald were there too. She hadn't even heard of them. Jesus, now there was an independent paper in Storybrooke too? What next, a Storybrooke gossip blog? Emma wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She had expected the press, but this was way more than a few reporters. There were about fifty citizens in attendance. They didn't have torches or pitchforks (this time) but it felt very angry-mob-ish.

Great. No pressure.

Emma stepped up to the podium and tapped the microphone in the middle.

"Um."

Okay, this was nothing like TV.

"Good afternoon and thank you for coming."

Be professional, Regina had told her, but personable. Emma should be herself, the person they'd elected. That election felt like a lifetime ago. Emma wasn't sure she was that person anymore.

"Okay, I'm going to say a few things, then we'll do some Q and A.'' Emma smirked, "And I won't be taking repeat or off-topic questions."

That wasn't on the little cue-cards. Emma ad-libbed that. It was a good way to cover her ass in case things went sideways.

"The Ball raised ten thousand dollars and some change." Emma figured she should start with the good news.

"Regina Mills is, as promised, matching that." Emma held up a hand to stop the crowd's response. "The Humbert Graham Memorial Foundation-" Which was currently funded by Emma's MasterCard. "-cut a check to bring it to a grand total of twenty-five thousand dollars."

There was a respectable amount of applause before Emma held up her hand to calm everyone down. "Now-" She flipped the index card and read the next one. "-there are several things that happened last night."

That was one way of saying it.

"Aurora Weathersby, Belle French, and Regina Mills cast a powerful spell. The reasons were personal. They took several precautions, but things got out of hand."

Regina wrote this part, and she made it sound super political and smart. It was a nice way of saying that shit had hit the fan.

"Magic is- "

Emma looked at the index cards. It was all political and correct and flowery, nice. She couldn't read the cards and be herself at the same time. It was time to wing it. She held up the cards.

"I don't need a bunch of tiny cue cards to talk to everyone. Magic is weird and sometimes scary, and let's be honest, most of us do not understand it."

Emma's thought about the fairies and dwarves, about beans and wardrobes. She remembered fireballs and healing.

"But this is Storybrooke and here's the thing." She leaned forward a little. "This is the one place in the world where magic is real. It is a part of this town and everyone in it." She shrugged, "I'm the Savior and I'm made of magic." Fucked up but true. "Thanks, Mom and Dad."

That got about two chuckles. It would be funnier to her if she actually called Snow and David that. It was still too weird.

Emma looked out over the gathered people and could see lots of familiar faces. She recognized some that had been in the mob that had attacked Regina. She also saw some people who had cheered for her at the sword fighting ring.

"So let me make this clear. Magic is not illegal or evil or whatever. It's complicated. Three women were trying to help an innocent man out of a bad place. The light show and battle were accidents."

Emma paused for a moment and tried to figure out how to say what she needed to say.

"It's Storybrooke. Weird stuff like this happens here. We have fairies, witches, and werewolves and other stuff that I don't know about yet."

Emma was sure that Humpty Dumpty and Winnie the Pooh were around the corner somewhere.

"We will deal with every magical situation on a case-by-case basis. The Sheriff's Office and District Attorney will review decisions as needed. Right now I will tell you we are not pressing any charges for that incident. Regina Mills has assured me she will pay for the repairs to Town Hall as it was her magic that caused the damage."

Emma took a breath. "The current case at hand is Cora Mills, the Queen of Hearts."

The crowd reacted to that. They knew all about Cora, had heard about her particular brand of batshit insanity. They were all scared, horrified, and looking for answers. The Evil Queen might be Snow White's biggest enemy, but Cora had a reputation all her own.

Emma held up a hand to calm down the crowd. One of her teachers in Junior High Number 3 had done that all the time. Now she saw why Mr. O'Brien had used it so much. It worked really freaking well.

"She is here and considered dangerous. She has a long record of homicide and does not care about civilians, or children. I'm providing the press with a picture."

Regina had magic-ed up a portrait of her mother. Then had scanned it on to her computer and printed off several copies. It was wild. A combination of magic and Microsoft, but it had worked.

If you see her, leave, run, go."

Emma stared at the cameras. This was the part she needed people to listen to.

"She will kill you or worse. She can change shapes. She will look like, sound like and even sort of act like the person she is impersonating."

Like Lancelot.

"She also takes hearts. She uses a person's heart to hurt and control them."

Emma still had nightmares about the heartless zombies Cora made.

"So if someone you know starts acting strange or saying things they usually wouldn't." Emma remembered Lancelot and how no one suspected anything. "Then they may not be themselves. If that happens you should get somewhere safe, then call the Sheriff's Office."

Emma smirked. "This is the part where the Sheriff's Office's number should flash on the screen."

That got a tiny laugh, a pity laugh.

"So moving on. There are several people ready, willing and qualified to fight for Storybrooke. So I am uh-pleased to announce that Merida Hill and I are co-sponsoring a new organization."

She was still not happy with Hill but Regina had told them both to play nice.

"The Storybrooke Response and Rescue Team. This organization will be civilian. We have soldiers, knights, and warriors. We have Army, Navy, and specialties that I don't actually know or understand. What I do know is that we have people that can and want to help in emergencies. I, for one, don't plan to turn away help. So if you want to join the R&R Team or want more information, go see Chief Hill at the Firehouse.

She sounded like a dumb PSA but wasn't screwing up too much.

"Finally, before I take questions. I want to remind everyone that Storybrooke is a special town but it is still a town. We have laws. We have policies and procedures and a lot of paperwork. We all have a vote and a voice. We are all-" She looked right at the clump of people who thought they were better than everyone else. "-equal."

Emma smiled a big shit-eating grin. "So questions?"

Everyone, even those not from the press, started screaming at her.

"Hey!'

She shouted, and the mics squealed. It was an ear-piercing screech. Emma jerked away and winced. It worked, though. The crowd went quiet.

"One at a time. You." She pointed at one of the high school kids. "Go."

The boy, seventeen at most, had horn-rimmed glasses and an unfortunate bowl haircut. "Louie Bauer, Gray Knight Gazette. Is this Response and Rescue Team an army? If so, to whom is it loyal? What colors will it fly and who will pay for their armament and housing?"

Damm it. Regina had warned her that question would come up. Emma hadn't expected it from a teenager, though.

"No. It is not an army, and it isn't a loyalty thing. Lots of places have Rescue Squads or National Guards." She grinned, "I know you've seen the badass commercials."

The boy, Louie, didn't even crack a smile. He was so damn serious that Emma felt like she was the kid instead of him.

She cleared her throat. "The group will elect its own leadership and figure out the rest. Chief Hill and I will coordinate with them about schedules, training and things like that. I will be honest, we haven't figured it all out yet, but this is a very good step-one."

She nodded and smiled again. That was everything she had to say about that. "Next question." She looked around and bit the bullet. "Namazzi?"

The woman, dressed in a sleek, deep purple dress and blazer, smiled. It was like a shark smiling at a guppy.

"Thank you, Sheriff Swan. Do you support blanket pardons for crimes committed in the Enchanted Forest?"

Yup. Emma had figured she would ask that.

"Crimes." Emma gripped the podium. This was the part that she and Regina had spent the most time talking (arguing) about.

"Crimes according to who? Which crimes? What laws? Banditry? Child Slavery? Tax Evasion? War Crimes? Farmers starting blood feuds over property lines? Merchant Law? Royal decrees? Romani Tradition? Fairy Rules?"

Regina had told her that there were about a million different laws. There also had been all kinds of interpretations and enforcements. It had been worse than anything Emma had ever heard of, and she'd lived in Detroit for a year.

"I had a conference call today with Acting District Attorney Chadley Robinson and Judge Diego Soloman."

That had been after her meeting with David, but before her mirror pep-talk. It had been awful. Long, boring and full of legal jargon that she hadn't followed.

"And here's the thing. Our court, our laws, our whole justice system, relies on being innocent until proven guilty. We rely on evidence and witnesses and finding out the truth, no matter what that truth is. We're not in the Enchanted Forest or any of its kingdoms. Storybrooke is a different place, a different world. How can we prosecute or defend crimes that happened." She couldn't believe she was saying this. "Twenty-eight years ago in a different universe?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Emma answered herself anyway. She knew it would not go over well with everyone.

"We can't." Emma didn't wait for the crowd to react, she kept going. "So we will not try. Effective immediately, Storybrooke has a blanket pardon. It covers all citizens and all crimes before the curse broke." She shrugged, "Including certain destruction of city property charges."

No laugh, not even a chuckle or a half-assed grin. So she pressed on.

"This does not cover crimes that have happened since then." She looked out over the crowd. "I'm talking about the recent arsons, the murder of William "Billy" Sauris or DUI or any other crime since then."

Emma released her death-grip on the podium and straightened up. She looked around and decided on one of the tee-shirt people. "You. Next question."

This press-conference stuff was not easy or fun. She kind of hated it. She was the Sheriff, and this was her job. A job she refused to screw up.

If her impromptu visit surprised Regina Mills, she didn't show it. Not that Kathryn had expected her to. She came to 108 Mifflin to follow up on their "friendly conversation" without a sword. She brought cupcakes instead. Regina was partial to Ruby's chocolate and mocha confections. Kathryn preferred Ashley's Cherry-champagne concoction. She'd brought one of both.

Regina opened her front door dressed in a three-piece suit and heels. Kathryn had expected no less. She was wearing Prada and Burbury herself.

"Kathryn." Regina kept her face still and blank. Her eyes flicked around as if expecting an attack. Her face betrayed no fear or hesitation, though.

Her memories, the cursed ones, told her she'd been here countless times. Kathryn hadn't, not really. She had planned to seek sanctuary with the Queen once but had never seen her castle. This was the only home that she associated with Regina. She wondered if Regina felt the same way.

Kathryn felt that she knew Regina well. Better than most, even. She felt a certain kinship with the woman.

They were socially friendly women of royal blood. They'd exchanged pleasantries and letters. After her mother had died, having a queen write to her was considered normal and proper. It was a sort of mentorship program. Regina had also played chess with her in quiet side rooms at Balls from time to time.

They hadn't been friends. Except that they were, or had been, or might have been. Still could be?

Regina led her to the den. This room, Kathryn decided, had to be the most authentic room in the manor. A small flat-screen television showed the press conference. Kathryn bit the inside of her cheek to control her smirk and non-surprise.

"Tea?" Regina asked politely, "or coffee?" This was all absurdly civil for two women who had literally been at each other's throats so recently. Kathryn shook her head at it all, then smiled. "Coffee, please. I haven't had my daily pot yet.''

Regina chuckled. She waved her hand, two cups, and a proper French press appeared. Magic, Kathryn had to admit, had its perks.

"I ground the beans this morning." Regina spoke as she'd prepared the press. "It's Fair Trade Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. I found it in that coffee of the month subscription you gave me for my birthday last year. It is divine."

It was Kathryn's favorite too.

Regina made the coffee with practiced movements. She was only barely paying attention to her hands. She was none-too-subtly glued to the TV and Emma's performance.

Kathryn had timed her visit well. Just as planned. She waited until Emma fielded questions.

"Things are changing around here." She sat on the sofa and took the steaming cup of coffee Regina offered her. She hadn't bothered to ask about cream or sugar. She remembered that Kathryn took her coffee black. "Have you thought about returning to the Mayor's Office?"

Her words caught Regina both mid-sit and mid-sip. She fell the rest of the way and sputtered into her coffee. Kathryn fought another grin because the whole thing was almost Emma-Swan-esque. The two of them were getting more and more alike every day.

"There would be a riot if I tried." Regina's voice was cool, measured and had a touch of bitterness and longing in it.

"Really?" Kathryn rolled her eyes. "People like playing with swords and bows on the weekend. What they love are the things you gave them. Antibiotics, the NFL and microwaves. Tell them to go back to cooking over an open fire and then we'll see a riot." She took a sip of coffee and winked. "I enjoy wonder bras and no-fault divorce, personally."

Regina's lips quirked into a smile. I have a weakness for La Perla and Godiva myself."

Kathryn grinned and nodded. Not to mention the stack of CatCo and Runway magazines beside Regina's favorite seat. There was also the motorcycle that Regina thought no one knew about. She'd had a habit of racing around she'd the twisting forest trails before she'd had Henry.

"Exactly." She could mention that she knew her secrets, more than Regina realized, but did not. She took another sip of coffee and savored it. Kathryn knew the value of information. "And coffee. I swear that I'll never have afternoon tea again."

She watched Regina blink, the closest thing to a flinch she'd allow herself. She made a mental note not to bring up afternoon tea again. Whether Regina was thinking about Leopold, Snow or Cora was a guessing game. Whichever, whoever or whatever she remembered, it wasn't good.

Kathryn put the conversation back on course. "People like it here. They are talking about higher education and solar-panels. Storybrooke isn't going anywhere. It needs its mayor. Now more than ever." All personal issues aside, Regina was an excellent administrator and before that, queen.

She tilted her head to the TV where Emma Swan had announced the blanket pardon. Kathryn wasn't surprised. She had spent days going back and forth between Chad, Judge Solomon, Archie Hopper and a handful of others. She would never announce such a bold move herself. That wasn't her style. Kathryn may have shared some suggestions with others, though. Chad's text about the announcement had cemented her decision to visit Regina today.

"See." She bit into her cupcake, the mix of coffee, cherry and champagne was divine. "Things are moving right along."

Regina raised a brow. "You've always had a better information network than me." She sounded a little jealous about that.

Kathryn resisted the urge to brag. "Because you rely on magic instead of people." Even before she'd become the Evil Queen, Regina had always been isolated. By Cora, by Leopold, by her own actions. When she'd been younger, she'd thought Regina was shy. Now she knew better.

Kathryn pasted on a smile and nudged the conversation along. "And I am very good with people." She almost resisted the urge. Well, it wasn't bragging if it was true. "Which is why several people have come to me with their financial questions and concerns."

She had served as Storybrooke's one and only bank's CFO for years. People knew and trusted her. More so than her father now, more than ever. He'd been a stingy, lazy ruler who had stayed in his golden palace while his poorest people starved. Kathryn loathed his politics then and now.

"They're asking about other and new options."

Regina's brow furrowed, and it was clear that she was running through one or more scenarios in her head.

"Another bank?" Regina frowned. "But you hate your job. You want to be a lawyer."

The words surprised Kathryn for a moment. Regina was not known for mincing words nor caring about anyone other than Henry. Regina's immediate reaction was concern for Kathryn. Not how it would affect herself. That was unusual. Unexpected. Unheard of.

Still, Regina was a royal, a ruler, a politician down to her bones. She had to see the bigger picture. Kathryn wasn't sure this idea would get off the ground without her support-and money.

"A credit union, actually. The idea of royals running the only bank in town doesn't sit well with many people anymore."

Regina scrunched her face, "Feudalism at its finest. Competition was never something The Curse required." She shrugged, "Now it's a fair and open market. Pure capitalism in action."

This. This was the woman behind the curse and crown. The friend and advisor Kathryn wanted. The mayor she knew Storybrooke needed.

"If Storyrbooke's Mayor endorses or even joins the Storybrooke Community Credit Union-"

She knew this was a gamble, but Kathryn had to take the risk.

"By join." Regina's voice was all business now, her words calculated and her tone sharp. "You mean transfer my not-insubstantial assets, holdings, and capital." She tilted her head and pursed her lips. "To this new credit union to jump start it?" Regina was no fool. "And provide headquarters. The empty storefront on Lilac Avenue that I recently renovated."

Oh. Kathryn shrugged. Regina had noticed her visits.

"I thought you were looking at that for your future law office." Regina's face was almost unreadable. She put down her cup. "So I'm your pawn, now?" Regina chuckled and corrected herself, "No, you said Rook."

"Of course not." Kathryn curled her lip at the accusation. "That was for the show. You know that you are still the most powerful piece on the board. You are still the queen. Besides, I want my law offices to be closer to Town Hall." Much closer. Inside of them. She wanted to be a District Attorney. "I still plan to finish my JD, but those online classes take time."

Regina sat for a minute, quiet. She was thinking, weighing her options, moving pieces on her chessboard. The years had mellowed The Evil Queen's legendary temper. She still led with her emotions, whether in battle or in chess, but it seemed like she had a longer fuse now. Kathryn hoped that Regina would listen to her now.

"Queen." Regina finally spoke. Her tone was dry and wry. "Haven't you watched the news? They're re-playing my little speech at least three times a day." A little dark sarcasm gave her words a bite. "There are no kings or queens in Storybrooke."

Kathryn had thought that line was a little over-the-top and a lot heavy-handed, but it was playing well. Aurora Weatherby's curtsey had only added to that moment. People were talking about Regina again, and it was not all bad.

"No, but you have to admit. The Mayor and The Sheriff have a lot of influence." She looked over to the TV where Emma was still dealing with her press-conference. Emma wasn't as prepared, polished or political as she or Regina would be, but that was the point. "You are a cute couple."

She'd had enough politicking for the day. Besides, anything else would be gilding the lily. She had laid it out for Regina, and now the ball was in her court. Kathryn wanted two things, another cup of coffee, and gossip. She was only human, and The Evil Queen and the Savior were the topic du jour. She should have the inside story, damn it. Regina had paired her off with David "Not-As-Charming-As-He-Seemed" Nolan. She had washed the man's socks and tightie-whities. She had earned some gossip.

She could see a tiny blush and thick protective walls rising. Regina was about to shut her out.

Kathryn reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Please. I meant what I said. We were friends and I don't think it was all the curse. Please talk to me."

Yes, she was still angry about many things. Regina hadn't been the best friend or woman. She had been, once. There had been kindness, empathy, and intelligence. Kathryn had treasured the letters they'd exchanged years ago. After her mother died, Regina had been one of the few monarchs that reached out to her and not her father. The letters, to a casual reader, had been acceptable fluff that said nothing in particular. They had said everything to Kathryn. Regina had inspired her to gather loyal people and information. Regina had shaped her into the woman she was today.

Kathryn liked her. Appreciated her intelligence, candor, and her sense of humor. Her scathing, reports about courtiers and ball attendees had always made her laugh.

Kathryn knew the woman behind the crown. So she could tell Regina was giving in. She was a softie behind the evil front.

"We can talk about our relationships, bad mouth Snow White and ignore the world for a little while." Kathryn knew Regina's favorite topics.

"Like old times?" Regina's brows raised, and her mouth twisted into a frown.

"No." Kathryn didn't want to go backward. It was time to go forward. "Forget the old times. Let's make new times. Now tell me all about Emma Swan and those delicious biceps of hers!"

Kathryn watched The Evil Queen crumble away to reveal Regina Mills. Kathryn saw the full-on blush, the saucy grin, and the ridiculous heart-eyes. Regina Mills looked genuinely happy.

"Physician-" Archie mumbled under his breath while he locked up his office. "-heal thyself."

Pongo let out a small woof and whine.

"Yeah. I know you're tired too, huh, buddy."

Tired didn't even cover it. Archie was beyond exhausted. He'd been in back-to-back sessions all day. All week, and the weekends too. He had more patients than he could handle and even more waiting in queue for an appointment.

The curse had left chaos in its wake. It had been the psychological equivalent of an atom bomb. Everyone was suddenly dealing with two lifetimes of memories and most were not happy.

Storybrooke was now a city full of refugees. Once normal people remembered they were more. They were deposed rulers, landless farmers, ex-soldiers and war orphans. There were hundreds of people, men, women, and children that desperately needed help. Hundreds of people he was woefully under-prepared to treat. Some people had spent twenty-eight years with no worries or problems. Now they had serious mental illnesses, phobias, and anxieties. There were people who had realized they were gay or trans-gendered but were married and closeted again. Abuse victims were now facing unwilling reconciliation with those who hurt them. To top it all off, he had an ex-Evil Queen who desperately wanted to change and didn't know how.

Everyone wanted help, and he wanted to help them. He wasn't sure how or when. There weren't enough hours in the day. He needed a secretary or some people who could act as assistant counselors. He wasn't sure what to do. Archie wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore. Who did he turn to when he needed advice? Pongo?

For now? He would turn to a plate of Granny's chicken and hash with a side of blueberry cobbler and a roll or two. Maybe three because carbs were delicious, and he was a stress eater.

It wasn't a long walk. Pongo pulled on his leash. He loved Granny's. While Archie ate, his dalmatian got to run around the diner and inns fenced back garden. He let Pongo into the garden and hoped he stayed put. Archie would not call Emma Swan to track him down again. After today's press conference, she had more than plenty on her plate. If he had a spare thirty minutes, he would pencil her in for an appointment. He didn't.

The diner was quiet. It was between the lunch and dinner rushes. He waved to the server, Andreza, and headed to the back corner booth. It had a plug-in for his laptop. He had, at Henry's insistence, bought a new one a few months ago. It was a sharp little Mac, but he knew that he would eventually run the battery down and would need to plug it up. It wasn't the best place to work on updating his files and notes, but he needed a change of scenery. He looked around while he booted up the computer.

Mr. and Ms. Peters were having a quiet lunch. He knew that they were still discussing if they wanted to divorce or not. Their couple's therapy had not been going well before the curse broke. Now Lydia knew that the curse had been the only thing that had stopped the abuse, not anger management and AA. Archie looked away. He had to maintain a professional distance for their privacy and his own sanity.

"You okay" Andreza brought him his usual cream soda and a basket of buttered rolls. "Doctor Hopper?"

No. He wasn't.

"Of course, and please I'm off the clock so call me Archie."

She smiled and winked. "What would you like to eat then, Archie?"

It was a comfortable conversation. He'd asked her to call him Archie about seven-hundred times. She always smiled and winked when she finally did. He also knew that she had been raising her three younger siblings on her tips. Their father had run off long before the curse and her mother had died of the flu. She was terrified that her brothers hated her. They were terrified that she would disappear too.

He put in his order, a small variation of one of his regular meals. Andreza skipped off to put in his order. He opened up a few programs while he helped himself to a roll.

He looked around the dining room again.

Leroy, Grumpy, was across the room. He took up a table meant for at least four. Archie knew that the soda glass he had was at least half alcohol. The man was well on his way to being drunk. Archie worried about him. He'd known the man-dwarf for a long time and his alcoholism was spiraling out of control. Archie wanted to help him but knew that Grumpy wouldn't change his ways until he wanted to. Archie wasn't sure he would ever want to.

He looked around, happy for any distraction from the large pile of work he had to do. Four cannery workers, headed in for the second shift, were eating, talking and laughing. One had night terrors about the ogre battles he'd fought when he was thirteen. Another hadn't spoken a word since the Battle of Sunflower Fields. The youngest of them only had one arm, the other lost in yet another battle. They were drinking lots of coffee and talking about sports, women. They seemed happy for the moment. Archie was glad.

Finally, at the counter, there was Mulan. He didn't know much about the newcomer. She seemed like a good person. She was adapting well. She wore faded skinny jeans and a plain white tee. A faded letterman's jacket was slung over the stool to the left of her. Her sword rested on the stool to the right. She didn't want any company. He was sure that she had a lot of thoughts, opinions and probable traumas under her strong and silent act. Was it bad that he hoped she kept up the act?

He sighed and took a long drink of soda. He needed to turn off his brain. He was off-the-clock. He didn't want to psychoanalyze anyone right now. He just wanted his food and some mindless data entry.

The conversations and television buzzed around him. His food came and it smelled delicious, familiar. It was all comforting. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Archie started to relax. He felt the crick in his neck and the kink in his back started to unwind. He smiled down at his plate. It was going to be a good afternoon.

She sat at the bar at Granny's Diner. It was a slow time of day and everyone told her to stay and sit. One of the usual waitresses, Ashley, had left early to take her daughter to the doctor. For vaccinations. Mulan had read about those. Doctors injected medicine to prevent sickness before it happened. The specifics of it were beyond her but the fact that it existed at all was amazing. It was even more amazing that Granny had allowed Ashley to leave her post to do this.

Mulan smiled and continued her perusal of the newspaper. It had been a very good day. She had started her morning with a run along the beach and it had her ready to attack the day. Her newspaper was a new one. Ruby had told her that too many people were angry about the established paper so they started a new one. They had started a new one. Just like that! The freedoms that the Storybrooke citizens enjoyed were unbelievable.

"Hey!" The young waitress grinned, "The Sheriff's speech is on." She pointed the remote-box at the television box, and Emma appeared. The girl, the tag on her uniform read Andreza, sat beside her and listened as Emma spoke. Mulan wasn't as interested as Andreza. She'd heard enough politicking when she was in The Emperor's Army.

Then again, Andreza had a place in this town. Everyone did. Everyone had an important job to do. Everyone except Mulan. Outside of guarding Aurora, Mulan had nothing.

She should consider working for Merida Hill and her fire brigade. It was better than the current nothing she was doing.

"Oh! You should go for that."

Mulan blinked.

"The Response and Rescue Team. You'd be great at that." Andreza smiled at her. She was a sweet girl, happy and bubbly. She always went out of her way to speak to Mulan even though she had no money to tip her with.

It wasn't an army. She watched Emma explain that to everyone. She would be able to help with that. An old soldier pretending to be useful again, playing at training with other old soldiers. This wasn't a militia or a guard, it was busywork. Busy work to keep all the trained fighters from causing too much trouble. It was smart, she had used that technique hundreds of times to keep her men under control. It wasn't a true duty. It wasn't a place in the world. It wasn't enough.

Andreza was smiling at her, encouraging her to go and sign up. She seemed so excited. Mulan wanted to reciprocate but the best she could muster was a small smile and nod. Then she focused on her paper again.

The scene, Emma's speech, ended. A new scene, a man and a woman at a desk, replaced it. "Well." The woman spoke. "We will have a full breakdown and analysis of Sheriff Swan's press conference tonight. Join us then on Storybrooke Evening News."

"Until then" The man took over. "We're going to send you over to the ladies of High Tea. They've got a special two-hour episode. I'm David Johnson."

"And I'm" The woman picked up again. "Laurie Tate and thank you for watching this special edition of Storybrooke News at Noon." The screen went dark for a moment and commercials started. Mulan had quickly learned to hate commercials.

Andreza went to check on the other diners. She left Mulan with a complimentary order of french-fries, her paper, and her thoughts.

Mulan sighed at the fries. Complementary. How could she protect Aurora when she was surviving on the kindness of her friends?

There was no army, no real place for a warrior. She had trained her entire life to do one thing. All that focus and dedication, all that sacrifice, did her no good in Storybrooke. Mulan felt useless and hated that feeling. She'd always rebelled at the idea of being useless. Instead of being a perfect wife and mother, she was a warrior with no war. A tin soldier instead of a porcelain doll.

Mulan sighed and flipped through the paper. The fires that plagued the town took up the front page. A picture of the burnt-out Kisamos Greek Taverna made the article even more ominous.

The next article was about the housing shortage in town. Housing. That was another issue that Mulan was facing. She had looked every day for a place to stay and had not found anything yet. She could not live on Belle's couch forever. She didn't want to stay at the Inn like a perpetual nomad or live in the woods like a hermit. For the first time in her life, Mulan wanted a home. She wanted to build a life. A life with Aurora.

Mulan couldn't offer her a royal lifestyle, or even the small luxuries that she'd like. She could offer Aurora happiness, love, and freedom. Mulan would work herself into the ground if it meant Aurora was happy.

If she started with Merida Hill and saved her pay, then things would be better. There would be an apartment available in a month or two. She would be able to take care of Aurora then. It wasn't much, but it was a plan.

Mulan didn't need much room personally. She hoped to find a place with large windows so Aurora would be happy and warm. She could imagine it. Cozy with a large couch and a shower in the indoor bathing room. She wouldn't mind a television if Aurora desired one. Oh! A dog. Mulan missed having a dog. Aurora would love a puppy.

The television commercials ended and a new program started. It came on with a loud jangle of noises that were probably considered music. This was, according to Belle, a show about gossip. Mulan thought dead air would be more entertaining and informative. Andreza bounced a little and seemed to look forward to it. Mulan bit back a sigh and decided to keep to her paper. She might find some work in the newspaper's classified section.

Despite her disinterest, the noisy box was distracting and she did look up from time to time. The show had four women around a table. They were all dressed and made-up as if they were going to the match-maker. The women, all high-pitched voices and obnoxious giggles, were talking about the ball.

Mulan rolled her eyes. They didn't have anything better to squawk about? Apparently not because they started showing pictures and videos. They talked about the food, the clothing and who had danced with whom. It was beyond boring. People wondered why she had preferred the army. This exact thing. If she had to spend her days talking about high heels and curtsies, she would have gone mad by the time she was twenty.

She was mid-way through the paper when she heard her name. She looked around, confused for a moment, then realized that it had come from the TV. She looked up and was shocked to see a picture of herself at the ball.

"I don't care what you say. Prince Charming Who?" One of the women, a redhead in a bright blue dress, all but shouted. "This woman is rocking this suit. I love my husband but I would switch teams for Mulan!"

All the women laughed uproariously. Mulan hadn't felt so humiliated since she'd been banished.

"And did you see her after she fought?" Another of the women pointed to the side and a picture of her after the wraith battle. She was only wearing the sheer vest with her soot and sweat-soaked face covered with her mussed hair. Cartoon flames popped up on the screen. Big sparkling letter spelled out "Hottie Alert!"

Mulan hid her face in the paper. She wondered if a portal could be powered and summoned by embarrassment.

"And look at Princess Aurora right there beside her. Now that was a cute dress! She's had an interesting introduction to our quaint little town."

Mulan's hands balled into fists and she crumpled the paper. She would actually rather them talk about her than say two words about Aurora. Still, she couldn't help but smile at the pictures of Aurora from the Ball. She'd been so beautiful. Mulan's heart thudded and fluttered at the sight.

"And check this out!" The woman on the far right of the screen held up a copy of the other paper, the Storybrooke Mirror. It had another picture of Aurora standing beside her parents and an old man.

"King Steffan proudly announces the engagement of his daughter to His Majesty King George. It will be a traditional ceremony with feast and festivities to follow a fortnight hence.''

"Oooh!" One of the other women squealed "A royal wedding!''

Everything stopped. The sunny little apartment, the puppy, the happy little life disappeared. Everything she'd imagined crumbled away.

A Royal wedding. A wedding. Aurora.

There was a sharp stabbing in her chest. Fire and ice raced up and down her spine and her old scar. Mulan would swear to her ancestors that she was dying. Cora Mills could rip her heart out, crush it to dust, and it would be less painful.

A royal wedding. George? Mulan couldn't remember who he was. The Man on the screen couldn't be him, though. He was old enough to be Aurora's grandfather.

"King George, AKA the disgraced former District Attorney, Albert Spencer."

Spencer? Spencer, Spencer! The man accused of murder? Who had falsely accused Ruby? The man who had almost executed David? That man was to wed Aurora?

Rage replaced heartbreak. No. Aurora could not. She would never consent to that. She would not marry him. Aurora would kill him before he laid a hand on her princess.

"Mulan!"

Andreza sounded terrified.

Mulan snapped her head to the side. Andreza rushed over to her. "Oh my God! Your hand! Mike!" She yelled at the cook. "Get the first aid kit!"

Mulan looked at her hand. It was bleeding. She had shattered the water glass.

Grumpy ambled over and looked over the damage. "You okay, Sister?"

Mulan blinked, disconnected from her body. She could see the blood but did not feel any pain. "No."