A/N: Hey my lovely readers. Oh I've missed writing AUs! Much as I enjoy Missed Moments (which will be weekly once the sixth season starts, by the way) I love developing characters and plots even more. Ok so this story is inspired by a music video which I was directed towards by 1991. Full credit to her and the singer/songwriter for the idea I'm using. Now, I'm not going to tell you which song yet (you may guess as you read) but I would really, really like you to take the time to scan the A/N at the end of this and search YouTube for the song in question. AFTER you're read the chapter, ok? Thanks.

Also, I promise you this is a SwanQueen story even if the first 5,000 words suggest otherwise. Stick with me and you won't be disappointed.

Please let me know what you think in regards to how this story is beginning.

The last of the grain flew through the air, scattering across the scratched ground as the birds dove towards their food. Emma watched them for a moment, smiling, before she turned with the empty bucket in her hand and picked her way through the chickens and ducks back to the main garden. With the gate of the pen latched behind her, she put the bucket back in the feed shed and headed into the house to finish getting ready.

Her hair was misbehaving. She glared at it in the mirror as she tried to twist blonde strands up into a delicate-looking knot on the top of her head. Eventually she gave up and settled for her usual messy plait, adding a couple of bluejay feathers part way down to make it look like she'd put some effort in. It was Saturday night, after all. Her pale eyelashes disappeared beneath mascara and then her lips were outlined to make them look just a little bit bigger, plumper than they really were. Tiny silver bird earrings were hooked through, dangling delicately next to her slender neck. Around her neck hung the swan pendant she always wore. Happy with her appearance, she turned her attention to her closet.

Hands on hips, she surveyed her outfits. The black skinny jeans were easy; she knew they made her ass look amazing. But what to pair with them? She tossed the jeans onto her bed and scanned her blouses. Glancing at the feathers in her hair, she tried to match the colours. The bluejay's striking plumage drew her towards a vivid sapphire but she hesitated, deciding it was too early in the year for such a colour and her skin would look too pallid. It was only March and there was still the chill of winter in the air. So she reached instead for a grey-blue silk blouse, still coordinating with the feathers but a less intense shade. Satisfied with her choices, she returned to her garden.

It took ten minutes to usher all of the chickens and the ducks into their respective houses. She appreciated the red fox's beauty and cunning but she wasn't about to offer him up an all you can eat buffet … again. When the doors were safely fastened shut, Emma walked back to the wooden bungalow she called home and finally donned her chosen outfit. Once her boots were pulled on and zipped up, cash and cell phone stuffed into her purse, and the lights all turned off, she headed out of the house.

"Hey! The usual?"

Emma nodded and smiled at her friend as she slid into her regular bar stool and looked around. It was still early and there weren't many people in The Rabbit Hole yet. The steady hum of music and the DJ setting up in the corner told Emma it was going to get busier soon though, as it always did on a Saturday night. Storybrooke might not be the biggest town but there was a lively social scene amongst its younger residents.

A chilled bottle of beer appeared in front of her, closely followed by her best friend's face.

"You know we're about to run out of these. If you want us to order more you'd better talk to August," Ruby said, her bright red hair catching the spotlight behind the bar and making it look like she was on fire.

"Already? Geez," Emma said. "Is that a sign I come here too much?"

"Perhaps," Ruby said. "Or perhaps it's a sign that you need to move on from your vacation. It was almost two years ago, Emma. Get over the Bahamas and start drinking American beer again."

Emma laughed. "Nope! This stuff is the best."

She put the rim of the bottle to her lips and took a long drag, exhaling loudly as she placed the drink back on the beer mat just to prove she enjoyed it. Ruby rolled her eyes and moved off down the bar to serve another customer.

"I think it's pretty darn great too."

Emma looked to her left and her eyebrows rose. Sat beside her was an elderly man, his fingers curled around the neck of another Kalik beer bottle. An impressive but old-fashioned moustache framed his grinning mouth and his head was covered with light grey hairs to match. He was rather thin but looked like he had been a man of substance when he was younger. He didn't look like The Rabbit Hole's usual customer but, Emma supposed, there was no age restriction which worked the opposite way around to the usual one.

"Right?" Emma said, smiling at her ally. "It reminds me of summer."

"It makes me think of a certain little lady friend I met one year on that island," the old man mused, his pale blue eyes becoming unfocused suddenly as the memory drifted back to him.

Emma laughed. "Holiday romances are always the best. And the worst."

The man chuckled and held out his hand. "I'm Henry."

"Emma," she smiled, shaking firmly. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you local?"

"Yes," Henry said. "I've been living here over a decade now. But I don't come into the town much, nor the bars when I do make the trip."

"Well now you know where you can get Kalik, I'm sure I'll see you around much more often," Emma said.

"Quite possibly," Henry chuckled. And then he coughed. A harsh, ragged sound which made Emma wince slightly. It sounded painful. But after a moment, Henry seemed to recover and turned back to the blonde. "So, Emma, what do you do?"

Emma took another long drink of her beer before answering. "I'm a wildlife photographer. Birds mostly. I spend my days on the lake and the surrounding woodlands with my camera. I love my work but sometimes I get completely lost in it. If there's a specific bird in season but they're really hard to spot, for example. There might be weeks when I only come into the town on Saturday nights and then I start going stir crazy because I haven't spoken to people in days."

"Oh I know the feeling," Henry said. "Sundays are my social days usually. The congregation out at Norwalk are like family to me."

"You're a church-goer?"

"Of course, aren't you?" Henry said, frowning slightly at the blonde.

Emma felt herself blush under the man's scrutinising gaze. She took a swig of her beer before formulating a reply she thought Henry might find acceptable that wasn't an outright lie.

"I mean, yeah. Kinda. Not regularly, I suppose. Not as often as my parents would want me to go. But sometimes. The big holidays, for example."

"God is great, Emma," Henry said. "You should bear that in mind."

Emma nodded and sipped her beer to avoid answering. She had been brought up religious, had gone to church every Sunday but once she moved away from her foster family that habit had slipped steadily until she found herself only entering the sacred buildings a few times a year. She thought she'd better not tell Henry that, however. Religion meant a lot to most people living in Ohio and the surrounding states of the Mid-West.

"So what brought you down here today?" Emma asked.

Henry glanced around the bar. It was still fairly empty but there were a few groups of young people gathered around. Ruby was serving some lads Emma knew to be fishermen on the lake and several of them had already tried to catch her eye since they arrived minutes before. And failed.

"I just fancied a change of scene," Henry said turning back to Emma. "It gets lonely up in my big old house sometimes. I miss talking to people."

"You're not married?"

"Divorced," Henry said.

"Sorry," Emma offered.

"Don't be," Henry said. "It was my decision and one of the best I ever made."

Emma's eyebrows rose and she decided not to ask any more questions about family. She cast around for a topic to lighten the mood.

"So, this Trump fellow. Bit of a twat, isn't he?"

It didn't work. Henry lowered the bottle which had been about to touch his lips back to the bar and turned slowly towards his new drinking buddy.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I mean," Emma said, hastily backtracking. "I'm just not sure he has the interests of every citizen of this country at heart."

"I'd say we would all benefit from tighter border controls and a return to some traditional values."

Emma swallowed. She really didn't want to get into an argument about Trump because once she started, she could go for hours about that despicable human being and she got the feeling Henry was a die-hard Republican. Perhaps questions about Henry's ex-wife would have been more enjoyable. Just as Emma was wracking her brains for a subject matter which wouldn't create any friction between them, Ruby appeared and rescued her.

"Another couple of Kaliks for the weirdos over here?" she asked, flipping a towel over her shoulder and winking at Henry.

"Please," Emma nodded, draining what was left of her bottle. "Put them on my tab."

"You don't have to, Emma," Henry said but the blonde held up her hand.

"It's fine," she assured. "You can get the next round."

Henry sat up a little straighter on his bar stool, smiling at the thought of spending more time with the blonde woman. He hadn't realised how much he missed speaking to the younger generation until that night. They were hardly well represented at church. His chest began to ache again and he coughed, trying to hide the raspy spluttering in his hand but he could see Emma looking curiously at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't say anything though. And she didn't ask.

"So, tell me, Emma," Henry said, thanking Ruby as his next beer arrived, "what does a beautiful woman like you do in a backwards town like this for fun?"

Emma laughed. "Oh I wouldn't say Storybrooke was backwards, just … classic. And I spend most of my time either out by the lake for work or here in the bar, to be honest. Ruby," she pointed to the lanky red-head now pulling a pint of lager for a fisherman, "is my best friend and she works here most nights. The owner's a friend too, so this became a social meeting place as well as somewhere which stocks my favourite beer."

"The owner of this bar is August, right?"

"You know him?" Emma asked. "How?"

"He did some carpentry work for me a few years back and told me to drop in if I was ever in town. Great guy. Both with wood and personality."

Emma nodded her agreement. "Yeah, he is."

She glanced quickly around the bar, searching for the man they were speaking of but not finding him. He'd probably be in later, she mused.

"Old flame?"

Emma blushed and turned back to Henry. "How did you know?"

The old man offered a sympathetic look. "I can spot a broken heart a mile off, my dear."

"Oh he didn't break my heart," Emma said. "It was nothing serious or anything. We grew up together. Fooled around, you know. We had fun but it's over now."

Henry raised an eyebrow. Emma's blush deepened.

"Mostly over."

The old man threw his head back and laughed deeply. Emma couldn't help but join him. Ruby glanced at the two of them with a curious expression before resuming her task of chopping lemons for some gin and tonics.

"You're a great one, Emma," Henry said, clapping her on the back and shaking his head in amusement. "You know, in my day, it wasn't seen as proper for a lady to play the field. I'm glad to see that's changed."

"Oh yeah?" Emma asked. "And why's that?"

"Well I'd had my fair share of fun growing up," he said, "and it became depressingly obvious on my wedding night that my wife had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Just lay there like a wet fish and expected me to do all the work. It took months for her to learn. Nightmare!"

Emma laughed again. "That doesn't sound like a good end to what's supposed to be the best day of your life!"

"It wasn't!" Henry exclaimed. "I mean, she was fine once I'd bedded her in but I couldn't help but think of all the girls I'd been with who were far better and more adventurous. I sometimes wonder how different my life would have been if I'd married Barbara instead of Cora, for example. Oh, she was a wild one."

"If only we had a time machine, eh?" Emma said.

"Where would you go back to?" Henry asked.

Emma thought for a moment. "My high school prom," she decided.

"That is such a girl thing to say!" Henry chortled. "Ok, why? What would you change?"

"I wouldn't have gone," Emma said simply. "I spent all evening dancing with this kid called Neal Cassidy who had said he wanted to give me his virginity that night. I waited for six hours and then … nothing! I should have just gone to August's like I usually did on a Saturday night and actually had a good time."

Henry let out a squeal of delight, slapping his hand on the bar with mirth as Emma chugged back some more beer. Despite their obvious political and religious differences, the blonde was feeling herself warm to the old man. He might have been religious and a Trump supporter but he was also, clearly, a bit of a hell-raiser in his youth.

"What about you? Aside from changing your choice of wife, when would you go back to?" Emma asked.

Henry thought for a moment before answering. "Probably the day I was first offered one of these," he said, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his pants and flipping it open. He placed the slender stick between his mouth and patted his breast pockets of his white linen shirt, looking for a lighter. "If I hadn't accepted, I wouldn't have smoked twenty a day for my entire life. Think of all the money I'd have saved."

He flicked his zippo open and put the tip of the cigarette to the flame. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled slowly and turned to Emma. "Want one?"

"I don't smoke," Emma said. "And I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to light up inside in public places any more." She glanced at Ruby who was at the other end of the bar and hadn't noticed the illegal act yet.

"Oh yeah," Henry said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. "I forgot. Well, I'm gonna nip outside and speed up my death then. I love them but these damn things will kill me sooner or later. See you in a bit."

Emma saluted him with her beer as he slid from his stool and wandered outside. Despite being old, Emma could still see a distinctive swagger in his gait. She suspected he had been quite the player as a young man.

"Made a new bestie?" Ruby asked, leaning against the bar opposite the blonde and taking advantage of the lull in service.

"Yep," Emma announced. "You've been officially replaced."

Ruby acted offended and turned to storm off but Emma reached over the bar and grasped her arm, laughing. The red-head chuckled and resumed her position, leaning over to take a sip of Emma's beer. She might give her friend grief about her love of the imported beer but she had to confess the fruity flavour was rather pleasant.

"See, you do like it," Emma said, taking the bottle back.

"It's more that it's free," Ruby replied. "Anyway, I never said I didn't like it. I just don't see why you insist on August ordering it in all the time. You're so fussy."

Emma laughed. Fussy was not a word often used to describe Emma Swan.

"When's August due?" she asked, casting an eye around and noting that the bar had already become busier.

"Has someone got an itch that needs scratching?" Ruby teased. "You're breaking old Henry's heart, you know. I reckon he thought he was in with you."

Emma punched Ruby on the arm and stuck out her tongue. Ruby just laughed at her and glanced at the clock above the bar.

"He said he'd be here about eleven," she said.

Emma nodded. She didn't really have an itch. Well, it might have been a few months since she had seen any action. But she wasn't at the point of calling August just yet. Their regular meetings had petered out years ago and Emma was reluctant to fall back into the habit. She loved August as a friend but nothing more was ever going to happen between them. Still, she mused, if the bar wasn't going to bring in any new faces tonight, perhaps she would end up taking August back to hers.

"We need a night out in the city some time," Ruby mused. "There's not enough young people in this town."

"That's not the problem," Emma said. "The problem is that between us we've slept with most of the eligible ones and have decided against them. We're too picky, you know."

"Why settle?" Ruby shrugged. "And neither of us have tried Henry, maybe you should take him for a test drive."

Emma snorted into her drink just as the old man himself reappeared.

"What's so funny?" he asked, climbing back onto his seat.

Emma's cheeks reddened but Ruby jumped in, for once, to save her. Well, sort of.

"Oh we were just discussing which of the guys at the end of the bar would be most suitable for Emma. What do you think, Henry? The one with the plaid shirt or the guy with the blonde buzz cut?"

Henry squinted through the bar and surveyed the group of fishermen. Emma narrowed her eyes at Ruby who had pointed out two of her exes to the man before turning back to see what Henry's verdict was.

"What about the black guy with the tattoo on his forearm?" Henry suggested.

Emma's eyes widened and she glanced at Ruby who laughed. "He's kinda taken, Henry," she said. "By me." She waved at Billy who smiled widely at her. Clearly he was far more invested in their relationship that Ruby was but she smiled back before turning to Emma and Henry again.

"Well, I guess you'll be settling for August again then," Ruby said to her friend and before Emma could reply, she scooted away down the bar to serve some new customers.

"Don't do that," Henry said. "Life's too short to spend it with someone who doesn't make you happy."

Emma turned to him. "Do you regret your marriage then?"

Henry cocked his head. "No," he replied after a while. "I don't regret my daughter. Zelena's a great girl. Working up in Chicago as a doctor now and making me very proud."

"Just the one kid?"

Henry hesitated. "I had a son too."

Emma caught the use of the past tense and decided not to ask any more. She didn't think Henry really wanted to talk about his family. Just then however, two people arrived at the bar beside them that Emma didn't recognised. Early tourists, she supposed. The man was tall and had a scruffy beard, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes. The girl with him looked strikingly similar. Siblings, Emma presumed. Henry caught her distraction and turned to see what, or who, she was looking at.

"Good evening," Henry said to the girl who was stood beside him. "What brings you to our fine town?"

"Hi," the girl said, a foreign accent detectable in just the one word. "Our parents have just moved here and we're visiting from the UK."

"Across the pond, eh?" Henry said, holding out his hand. "I'm Henry and this is Emma. Welcome to Storybrooke."

"Lima," she replied. "And this is my brother Killian."

"Good evening," Killian said, shaking Henry's hand and nodded at Emma with a dazzling smile. "Are you two local?"

"Indeed," Emma said with a nod.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind giving us the tour some time," he said. "Our parents haven't managed to show us anywhere remotely interesting yet. It's just been nature walks and bird watching."

Emma laughed, deciding it was best not to reply since that sounded exactly like the tour she always gave visiting friends or family members.

"Can we buy you a drink?" Henry said.

"Erm, yes, thanks," Lima said. "What are you drinking?"

Henry held up his beer and showed it to her.

"The Bahamas?" she asked. "I wouldn't have expected to find that here."

"Blame me," Emma said. "I got addicted to the stuff when I went on vacation a couple of years ago and have made this place order it in especially for me ever since."

"I'll try one," Lima said. "But Killian will have a rum, I suspect."

The man laughed and nodded his agreement. Emma waved Ruby over and placed their order before turning back to the siblings.

"So, Lima. Unusual name. Where's it from?"

"I was conceived in Peru," she replied. "And my parents decided to lumber me with it. Obviously school wasn't fun."

"Is it fun for anyone?" Emma chuckled.

An hour later The Rabbit Hole was packed and a steady beat was resonating through the speakers. Henry tugged Emma to her feet and they made their way out onto the dance floor. Killian and Lima followed. Above them fairy lights twinkled and cast flashes of colours over the crowd. Emma and Lima moved between Henry and Killian, dancing with each man for a while before switching back. Emma threw her head back in delight as she watched Henry try to copy Killian's admittedly impressive moves before the old man pulled her into a classical dance hold and they waltzed through the crowd to cheers and whoops from the other patrons. August arrived soon after midnight and kissed Emma on the cheek, nodded to Killian, and headed towards the bar. Minutes later, Killian took the blonde in his arms and murmured something Emma didn't quite catch in her ear. It didn't matter. She got the gist.

By the time last call came just before two in the morning, she didn't want to know what her bar tab was totalling but she ordered three more Kaliks and another double rum for her new friend. Henry and Lima were still dancing but she and Killian leaned against the bar, watching the emptying space as customers filed out into the night.

"Well," he said after a while, "I suppose we should leave too."

Emma nodded slowly, trying to make up her mind about how she wanted the night to end. It would be so easy to ask Killian back to hers. She wouldn't see him again. He had already told her his flight was booked for the following Monday. And their heated kisses on the dance floor had certainly stirred something deep inside her. But she watched as Henry stumbled slightly against Lima and decided against it.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd better make sure that one gets home."

She deposited her empty beer on the bar and made her way over to Henry. She laughed as he tried to get her to dance again and steered him gently out into the street where a few taxis were waiting for the stragglers. The cool air hit his lungs and he coughed again, leaning against the wall as his whole body shuddered. Emma's eyebrows knitted in concern but the old man insisted he was fine.

"Thanks for a great night, Emma," Henry said as he sat down heavily in the back of a cab. "I'm so glad I met you. And Lima."

Emma laughed. "I'm glad I met you too, Henry. I hope to see you around soon. Now, have you got enough money to get back to yours?"

The man nodded and tapped his pocket. Emma leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Good night then," she said. "I'll be seeing you."

She closed the door and watched as the cab pulled away before returning to the now almost empty bar. Killian and Lima were still there, settling up their tab. August was nowhere to be seen.

"Ready?"

Ruby appeared beside her and dangled her car keys in front of the blonde's face.

"Yep," she nodded. "Bye Lima, Killian. It was great meeting you guys. Let me know if you're visiting your parents again and we'll meet up."

Together, she and Ruby left the bar. The drive through the silent streets was quick and Emma's alcohol fuzzed brain didn't even have time to send her to sleep before Ruby was pulling up outside the bungalow. She thanked her friend for the lift and got out, waving as the car pulled away and headed off down the road. Stumbling slightly up the steps, Emma fished for her keys in the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the door to her bungalow. She dumped everything on the side table and shuffled through to her bedroom. The clothes landed in a pile beside her bed and she climbed, naked, into the cool sheets. Sleep claimed her within seconds.

The next week flashed by and Emma only made it into town to see Ruby once. She had spotted a glossy ibis on Monday afternoon and spent the rest of her week trying to photograph it. Most shots hadn't come out as she had wished but on Friday morning she hit the jackpot. The shot captured the elegant bird was picking its way between the reeds growing at the edge of the lake, its curved beak beneath the water as it searched for food. The sun was sparkling off the water's surface and the colours of the feathers were striking and vivid. She had already sent a copy of it to National Geographic whom she knew had been looking for that particular bird for months. She sensed a decent paycheque heading her way soon. Thank goodness. She didn't need the hassle of her electricity being cut off again and she desperately needed to renew the roof on the duck house.

On Saturday morning she strolled into town, enjoying the warm March weather and greeting various townsfolk. Reaching the corner store, she ducked inside to buy some supplies. She had run out of milk and the black coffee she had drunk with breakfast was still tart on her tongue. Milk, bread (both for herself and the ducks), and some apples purchased, she was just leaving the shop when she saw it.

The billboard was propped against the wall, the front page of the day's paper displayed upon it and there, staring up at her, was a familiar face. Scanning the title, she turned and walked back inside, grabbing a copy of the Storybrooke Gazette as she went. Still standing at the counter, she began to read.

Henry Mills, founder and CEO of Mills Machinery, died yesterday after suffering from lung cancer. The millionaire moved to Storybrooke eleven years ago and continued to manage his booming business up until a few months previous when his health deteriorated. He leaves behind an ex-wife and two children. Mills will be remembered by those who knew him for his wicked sense of humour, his love of life, and his devout faith. Members of the Narwalk congregation have spoken of his passing. "He was a wonderful man," remembers Delia Martin. "We will miss him greatly," Vicar Tucker added, when told of the news.

Mills Machinery was founded in 1973 by a young and eager mechanic. Beginning with a small workshop in Madison, Wisconsin, it has since expanded nationwide with stores in most cities and an international export business. Mills balanced his work with a twenty year marriage to Cora Mills, nee Brown, but the two separated over "irreconcilable differences". She has not been contactable for comment on his passing.

Henry was diagnosed with lung cancer just seven months ago. A life-long smoker, he had been known to joke with friends about how his habit would kill him sooner or later and he opted not to pursue chemotherapy, despite favourable odds of the treatment being successful.

"Oh sorry," Emma said, as she was nudged gently sideways by someone trying to pay for their groceries. She hadn't realised she was still standing in front of the cashier.

She folded the newspaper and hurried from the store and out into the street. Instead of heading towards the cafe where she was supposed to be meeting Ruby for lunch, she walked back to her bungalow, eager to read the rest of the article.

Dead. Henry Mills was dead. She knew she hadn't known him long. A few hours didn't exactly constitute much of a friendship but she still felt a great sense of loss. She had really liked the old man and had truly hoped to see him again. He had been fun, different, and someone she was intrigued by. She imagined he had many raucous tales which had gone untold and she was saddened by the fact that she'd never see him again.

Reading the rest of the article didn't make her feel any happier. He certainly had been a remarkable man. From creating a successful company to his interest in racehorses, his brief service during the Vietnam War and his scholarship program he started with universities, encouraging young people to get involved in mechanics. Emma lay on the couch and re-read the article several times before her cell phone rang and an annoyed Ruby asked where the hell she was.

Ruby was sympathetic when she heard the news but still told Emma to get her ass down to the cafe before her coffee went cold. She did, the lure of the rich, brown drink enough to persuade her to leave the newspaper on the table and head out to join her friend.

Emma thought of Henry Mills several times over the next few days. In fact she was thinking of him on Wednesday morning when her cell phone rang.

"Hello," she said, answering the unfamiliar number because it had a local area code.

"Good morning, is this Miss Emma Swan?"

"Speaking," Emma nodded.

"My name is Robert Gold and I'm calling from Gold Associates."

"The legal firm?" Emma frowned. She knew the name, having seen the offices in Norwalk whenever she drove through the town. She didn't know, however, why or how they had got her number.

"Yes," came the reply. "I'm the executive of the estate of the deceased Henry Mills. I believe you knew him?"

"I did," Emma nodded.

"Would you be able to come down to the office, please. Today, if possible. There are some things we need to discuss."

Later that night Emma lay on her couch, staring at the ceiling. Sole heir? The only beneficiary named in Henry Mills' will, which he had changed two days before his death. A country manor house worth over two million dollars, a booming mechanics company grossing over twenty million dollars a year, and so many bank accounts she had lost track when Gold had talked her through it. All hers. She took another swig of the Kalik bottle she held and closed her eyes. What the fuck had just happened? It was completely crazy.

The chickens were making such a racket that Emma didn't hear the doorbell ring the following Saturday morning. She was trying to separate the young male chicks from their mother, knowing they were reaching sexual maturity and needing to catch them to take to market. She hated it, but it was part of owning the birds. It wasn't until she heard her name being called that she stood up. She puffed her flyaway hair from her eyes and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of a dirty hand, leaving a streak of grime on her skin, and looked inquisitively at the woman standing in her garden. An expensive-looking tailored suit, elegant heels which were slowly sinking into the soft earth, perfect make-up, and a flawless cropped hairstyle. The brunette before Emma was clearly from out of town. No one that beautiful stayed in Storybrooke for long.

"Emma Swan?" she said again.

"Yeah," Emma nodded, making her way towards the edge of the enclosure and leaning on the fence. "Who are you?"

"I'm Regina Mills," the woman said. "Henry Mills' daughter."

A/N: and the song this chapter was based on is called People Are Crazy by Billy Currington. Please watch the video - it's super easy to find on YouTube! Obviously I had to fiddle around a little to make it fit SwanQueen but I think it works. Anyway, the concept of the song was the springboard for this fic idea and you'll get a vague hint as to where this is all going from the lyrics. Thoughts?