A/N: Some dialogue taken from S1E15: Red-Handed, and from S1E16: Heart of Darkness.

Chapter 43

Emma didn't sleep well that night. She knew she must have tossed and turned during what slumber she did get, because she woke up at least twice to find Neal rubbing her back and gently trying to soothe her—a clear indication to her that she'd probably kicked him awake. He tried to deny it and claim she'd just been moaning, but her lie detector hadn't been fooled and she'd apologized.

When she'd finally dragged herself out of bed and into Granny's for a morning coffee it was to see Ruby smiling apologetically to her from behind the counter. "I just…" she murmured, "I don't think I want to deal with the stuff you have to deal with on a regular basis."

Emma understood. Still, she couldn't help replying, "I didn't think what we found yesterday was a regular thing in this town."

"It's not," Ruby said quickly. "But I realized something else, yesterday. Every time you'd need me to check something out, I wouldn't be just investigating some random stranger. I'd be checking into my friends. And maybe I'll find out things that," her voice dropped to a whisper, "that I don't really want to know. Things I'm better off not knowing. I don't mean about what happened to Kathryn," she added quickly. "Of course I want to know where she is and if that was her heart I found, then who was responsible. But… if I find out how many times you have to book Leroy for drunk and disorderly, I'd be worrying every time I see him in the Rabbit Hole, even if he's just there to shoot pool. I don't need to know who's a litterbug and who plays loud music at 4 am if they're not keeping me awake. She shook her head again. "And I don't want to investigate people I care about and find out that they've got things in their pasts that…" She took a deep breath. "Am I just sticking my head in the sand?" she asked, looking as though she was fearful of the answer.

Emma sighed. "I get it," she said. "And you're right. If you're not with the department, you've got that luxury. But if you change your mind and you want to come back…"

Ruby clasped Emma's outstretched hand in both of hers. "I won't, but it's nice to know I could," she said with a relieved smile.

There was a fax waiting for Emma when she got into the sheriff station a short while later. She lifted the pages out of the tray, noting that it had come from the crime lab where she'd sent the fingerprints she'd lifted from the jewelry box the day before.

She looked at the second sheet and her eyes widened. "No," she said aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. "No way." She thought about accidentally-on-purpose filing the fax in the paper shredder instead of the filing cabinet, but for all she knew, the lab had sent a duplicate copy to the mayor's office. Or the Mirror. No, she'd have to do this one by the book, even if she knew it was a work of fiction.

She'd wait until evening to follow up on this, though. There was no way that she was going to burst into a classroom and arrest a fifth grade teacher in the middle of her workday!

If she hadn't had to cite Walter Dormer for being illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant, Emma probably would have reached the school ten minutes before it let out. She would have waited outside Mary Margaret's classroom and quietly asked to speak with her privately. She'd be lying if she were to say that it didn't cross her mind to leave Walter snoozing in his vehicle and stop off at his home to drop off his ticket later that evening, or even forget the whole thing, but what if a fire broke out on Main Street before he woke up and drove off? She wrote the citation.

As a result, she arrived at the school just in time to see her friend climb into her Jeep Grand Waggoneer and drive off. Stifling an oath, Emma waited a moment before following. In all likelihood, her friend was going home and Emma would still be able to do what she, sadly, needed to with some discretion.

She blinked with surprise when the Jeep continued past Mary Margaret's building without slowing, but continued to follow, wondering where the trail was taking her. As sheriff, unlike Ruby, she didn't have the luxury of choosing not to find out.

Emma wasn't really surprised when she realized that Mary Margaret was headed for the animal shelter. Even though the schoolteacher had assured her that she'd ended things with David, Emma knew that her feelings for the man still ran deep. Mary Margaret had been genuinely worried when she'd seen Emma take David in for questioning the other night, and she'd been genuinely worried yesterday upon coming across him in his 'sleepwalking' state. You could be a good friend, even if you weren't dating the guy. You could also be trying to salve a guilty conscience, if it looked like an innocent was getting fingered for something you'd do— Emma squelched that thought quickly. It didn't matter where the evidence was pointing. She knew Mary Margaret, and there was just no way that her friend could ever…

Emma's jaw set as she pulled into the shelter's parking lot. She pulled into a spot right up at the curb in front of the building, got out, and went inside.

"Well, there has to be an explanation," she heard Mary Margaret saying, as she turned the doorknob.

David was speaking in a lower tone, and she missed the beginning of his reply, catching only, "… but I don't think it's a good one," as she stepped into the room. Both turned as one to see her and David asked quickly, "What is it? Did you find her?"

"We found a box," Emma said slowly. She saw confusion on both faces, as David asked her what that meant. "We think it… We think that she…" She paused until David prompted her once more to go on. "There was a human heart inside it."

"Oh, my god," Mary Margaret whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth as tears filled David's eyes.

"No," David whispered. "No."

"We're going to send it out for some tests," Emma went on, "but there aren't any other missing people."

Mary Margaret looked at David, who was weeping on a low sofa against the wall. "Maybe you should go," she said softly.

Emma wished she could, but she forced herself to continue. "There's more."

David looked up. "What?"

Emma took another breath. "There were fingerprints inside the lid of the box. I ran them through the records of everyone in town, and there was a match."

"Arrest me," David said at once. Over Mary Margaret's protest, he repeated, "Arrest me, Emma. Do it!"

Emma shook her head. "David," she said slowly, "the fingerprints weren't yours."

He blinked then. "What?"

Emma's voice was steady as she delivered her bombshell. "They were Mary Margaret's."

Mary Margaret was silent in the back of the squad car. As Emma kept her eyes on the road, she glanced at her passenger in the rearview mirror from time to time, as she sat there, white-faced and tight-lipped, her eyes wide, but strangely blank. When they arrived back at the sheriff station, and Emma held the back door open for her, she exited woodenly and let Emma steer her into the building toward the camera and the white wall with the height lines clearly marked in black.

She blinked when Emma took the first picture. It wasn't until Emma told her to turn to the right for a profile shot that she found her voice.

"Emma," she gasped, "this is a mistake! I-I didn't kill Kathryn!"

Emma winced. "Of course, you didn't," she assured her friend, hoping that her instincts were right. Her superpower wasn't detecting any lies at the moment, but—her cynical side reminded her—that didn't mean that Mary Margaret hadn't arranged it. Maybe even with David, she thought. Then she ruthlessly squelched the idea. Innocent until proven guilty, she told herself. And she's doing a pretty good impression of innocent. "But," she went on, "while I am your friend, I am also the sheriff. And I have to go where the evidence leads."

Mary Margaret was far from mollified, not that Emma could blame her. "Which points to me? Emma, yesterday it was David. There's something not right here."

She had a point. There was something not right. Not just with the situation, but with the entire town, and every time Emma managed to forget it, something happened to remind her. "I know," she admitted, "but, your fingerprints were on that box, and his are not. So, now we have to deal with this." She had to act like she didn't suspect anything amiss, because she suspected that Graham had died, right when he'd realized that there was something funny going on. Now, Kathryn seemed to be dead, too. Was there a connection?

Last month, you thought she was the mastermind, Emma reminded herself. Last week, you thought she was faking her disappearance. Now, you think she's a victim of a conspiracy that only you and maybe Henry think exists. Calm down and look at the facts.

Not privy to Emma's ruminations, Mary Margaret kept talking, her words tumbling frantically from her lips. "Evidence that says I cut out Kathryn's heart…and buried it in the woods. This is insane."

She did have a point, Emma had to admit. Mary Margaret didn't look as though she could have physically dragged Kathryn from her car, never mind overpowered and murdered her. But right now, that didn't matter. "If I don't book you," she explained carefully, "with all this evidence, it's going to look like favoritism. And then, Regina will have cause and she will fire me. And then, you know what she'll do? She'll bring in someone who will railroad you." She waited for the comprehension to dawn in Mary Margaret's eyes, before she continued. "So, please – just try to be patient and trust me. We can't even move forward till we verify the heart belonged to Kathryn. And I am still waiting for the DNA test results. But, in the meantime, you need to bear with me. I have to ask you a few questions."

Mary Margaret nodded shakily. "This is crazy," she managed. "I would never hurt anyone."

Emma sighed. "Here. Let me get you a cup of coffee before I take your prints." Actually, her friend seemed jittery enough without giving her more caffeine. "Or better yet, herbal tea."

Mary Margaret nodded again.

Neal was sanding down a grandfather clock in Marco's garage, when he heard a light step behind him and a familiar voice. "Got any dinner plans?"

He looked up with a smile. "What time is it?" he started to ask, just as his stomach rumbled. "Uh… later than I thought." He pulled out his phone and turned it on, wincing when he saw that it was nearly half-past seven. "I guess I lost track of the time. Granny's?" He frowned. "Wait. Did you fix dinner hours ago and come looking for me when I didn't get home?"

"No," Emma sighed. "I've just… been having one hell of a bad day. Granny's sounds great, but," she realized that by now, the word had probably got out about Mary Margaret's arrest and she had a suspicion that the odds of her and Neal having a quiet meal out were somewhere between slim and nil, "could we get take out? I don't know if I want to show my face around town right now."

"That bad?" Neal asked, getting to his feet and brushing sawdust off his clothes.

"Probably worse," Emma admitted.

"Let me put this stuff away," he said, gesturing toward the tools scattered about him, "and sweep up. We can talk in the car when I'm done."

Neal was shaking his head by the time Emma had finished. "There is no way," he said slowly, "that that woman could have possibly…"

"I know!" Emma exclaimed. "And the way Regina was gloating! I mean, she was acting all sympathetic at the interrogation, but in an 'I totally get what you must have been going through to have been driven to commit murder,' way."

"Sounds like gaslighting to me," Neal murmured.

"Yeah, or something like it," Emma nodded. "I don't know if that's exactly it, but close."

"There any bad blood between those two?"

Emma frowned. "Regina doesn't like Mary Margaret for some reason, but when I asked Mary Margaret about it, she said she had no idea why, and I believe her."

"Might be worth asking around town," Neal suggested. "Maybe… I dunno, something happened a long time ago, that Mary Margaret forgot about or didn't think was anything important, but from Regina's perspective it was major."

"Maybe," Emma said thoughtfully. "Although I've been around here long enough to hear some of the local gossip and nobody seems to have even noticed."

"Nobody?"

"Well, Henry," Emma admitted. "But you know… him and that book."

Neal tilted his head in confusion. "What's his book got to do with anything?"

"I told you that he thinks Regina's the Evil Queen and Mary Margaret's Snow White? With that belief, everything makes perfect sense. At least, to him."

Neal nodded sagely. "Yeah, I hear you," he said. "Actually, if he really believes that book… it sort of does fit."

"What, that Regina thinks Mary Margaret's prettier than she is and she's jealous?"

"You didn't read it," Neal replied.

"I've read Snow White. And watched the movie."

"But you didn't read her story in his book," Neal repeated.

Emma frowned. "I skimmed it. Why?"

"Because in Henry's book, Regina—and yes, that was the Evil Queen's name—was going to elope with a commoner, and her mother murdered him."

Emma blinked. "Okay, that's an original backstory, but what's that got to do with Mary Margaret?"

"Snow White," Neal corrected. "She's the one who told Regina's mother."

Emma frowned. "Even if that's true, what the hell has that got to do with Mary Margaret and Regina Mills? I-I mean, even if Henry believes his book is true, it's not like Regina does!" Her eyes widened slightly. "I mean, there's no way, she could believe it," she insisted. She paused. And then, almost plaintively, she asked, "Right?"

"Hey," Emma said, when they were driving back from Granny's, "mind if we make a pit stop?"

"You didn't think to do that before we left the diner?" Neal quipped and Emma swatted at him playfully.

"Turns out, you can get a search warrant approved over the phone," she explained. "Something I did not know until today. I figured I'd have to go in person, and when I called the courthouse to see if I had to make an appointment first, they put me on hold for, well, long enough to make me wonder if they had to review their procedures. I wouldn't think that they get to swear out a warrant very often. Then the judge came on the line, they told me to write out the warrant and call back with a recording device, and I'd read it out and…" she shook her head. "Sorry."

"No, I'm fascinated," Neal murmured.

"Seriously?"

"Nah. So…?"

"So, as long as Mary Margaret's loft is on the way, and I have the warrant approved, I guess maybe I'll save myself a trip out tomorrow and just take care of it now. Shouldn't take too long," she added. "I mean, I'm pretty sure she didn't do it, so there shouldn't be anything to find, but I might as well get it over with." She sighed. "Plus, I'm pretty sure that if I leave it till tomorrow, the way word gets around in this town, I wouldn't be surprised if the press is waiting for me when I'm done and someone shoves a microphone in my face and starts popping flashbulbs."

"And you want me to phone you if I see Sidney lurking in the rosebushes now."

"Sidney?" Emma asked, as she pulled up in front of the building. "Definitely. Though, as far as I know, he's off the Mirror staff, so it'll probably be someone else. Dunno who, though, so just…"

"Suspect everyone?" Neal grinned easily. "Don't worry. I got your back."

"Thanks. Like I said," Emma repeated, reaching into the well between the front seats and lifting out the leather satchel containing her crime scene investigation kit, "this shouldn't take too long."

Neal watched, as Emma pushed open the door to Mary Margaret's building, let out a long breath, and leaned back in his seat. He'd been trying to carefully sound Emma out, try to get her to at least try to be open to the possibility that Henry's narrative was more than… the overactive imagination of a kid with issues. He knew that it was going to be a pretty big leap to 'Fairy tales are real and this town is full of people who used to live in them,' never mind, 'Oh, and you're from there, too, and while we're on the subject, so am I,' but he didn't have a clue as to how to even suggest that Emma take a running start at it.

Maybe it was a positive if she was starting to think that Regina was buying into it. She might not think the book was real, but surely, considering that other people might was a good thing, right? Unless it played into her theory about the town being some kind of brainwashing experiment. Neal groaned. He wished he didn't think that that theory was actually more plausible, albeit slightly. Hell, if he didn't know the truth, he might even have agreed with her. Problem was, he did know the truth. Bigger problem was that he knew Emma, and when it came to magic, she didn't have a believing bone in her body.

It would be a hard conversation for him to have with just about anyone, except maybe Henry, but he didn't know how to even start having it with Emma. She'd reject the direct approach out of hand, and so far, his subtle attempts were going clear over her head. There had to be some middle ground, some way of cracking her skepticism, but damned if he knew what it was.

He needed proof. Something more convincing than the clock Henry had mentioned starting to keep time again… or the man Henry had identified as Prince Charming waking up from a coma when Snow White started reading to him… or an earthquake hitting town the day Emma became the town deputy… or… Crud, he could see the proof that was piling up practically by the day, but he also knew if you went in knowing a thing was true, you could more easily pinpoint all the pieces of corroborating evidence. For Emma, there was a rational explanation for every single one of those pieces, and he needed to find something that would shake her out of that complacency! He…

He looked up, as Emma opened the driver-side door and sank down in the seat with a sick expression on her face. "What?" he asked, pushing his ruminations aside, as he took in her too-pale face and her slightly unfocused eyes.

"I found something," Emma said, her voice almost too calm.

"Something," Neal repeated.

"I heard a noise," Emma said dully. "It startled me; I'd just been thinking how quiet it was in there, and then… the heat came on."

"Uh… okay." Neal knew there had to be more.

"The heater… it's that kind where there's a fan in the vent. Which always struck me as weird, because to me, fans are for cooling, not heating, you know?"

She was babbling. "Emma…?"

Emma exhaled. "The fan blade sounded like it was… hitting something. And when I went to the vent, to see what it was, I found…" She unfastened the clasp of the satchel and pulled out a large Ziploc bag. She opened the bug's door again to turn on the cabin light.

Neal's eyes widened. The item in the bag was long, and most of it was wrapped in cloth. However, above the cloth, Neal saw something that he recognized at once. Maybe it wasn't Papa's dagger, but he knew the hilt of a hunting knife when he saw one.