….

Chapter 2

Storybrooke.

Storybrooke was quiet. Snow fell soundlessly onto sidewalks that wrapped around the tiny storefronts downtown and streetlights bounced shadows across the roads, snow all untouched and pristine and gathering on the apartment rooftops like gingerbread house icing.

What a sleepy town.

There was a clocktower and as they drove by, Emma noticed the hands didn't move at all, as if the place was stuck in time.

Her watch showed 3:20 A.M. They passed through town quietly; the lamplights outside rushed over the darkness of the backseat and across Emma's lithe form intermittently. Graham listened to what sounded like 90s rock at a low volume and every once in a while static crackled on his radio and he answered shortly through an earpiece as he drove.

Emma thought about what she'd say during the questioning. For the first time she'd be entering the sheriff's station innocent, which was completely foreign to her, and really Emma wasn't confident she knew how to play it cool when she had nothing to hide.

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. They just can't find out any personal information or ask for identification or basically anything about her.

Should be easy.

Graham pulled into a parking lot to a small building with light shining through the windows, the sheriff's station for sure, Emma can tell but just barely. It was like the small-town version of a sheriff's station, just a renovated one-story building that was clearly a house at one point probably a hundred years ago.

Graham opened her door and cool air rushed in, making Emma squint and then grunt as she climbed out and her boots hit the snow. She waited with her arms stretched as Graham dug in his pocket and pulled out a pair of keys and fumbling with the lock, he had the handcuffs undone. Emma rolled her wrists and rubbed at the indentations with a wince.

They walked to the door and the officer unlocked it and ushered her inside, his hand tight on her elbow.

"This way," Graham said, that accent once again leaving Emma wondering why he chose such a remote town to settle in, but she wasn't about to ask that.

He took her down a hallway and into a room with a desk and some chairs occupying the space. Emma was instantly reminded of every action movie she'd ever seen.

"I'm being interrogated?" Emma asked, raising a brow.

"You're being questioned." Graham said. "Fiercely and without limitation."

"So I'm basically being interrogated."

Graham pulled out a chair for her. "Want anything while you wait? Coffee or hot chocolate?"

"Shit you serious? Hot chocolate." Emma frowned, "Wait for who? Or what?"

The curly-haired officer didn't immediately answer, checking a small Blackberry and then walking back to the door. "Umm, for Regina."

Emma glowered at the officer who clearly wasn't paying her a bit of attention even though he literally came in the middle of the night to drag her to this town.

"Okay, who's Regina?"

"Regina Mills is the lawyer representing the vandalism case. It's pretty late for her but we're all in agreement that Female Satan don't need sleep…so she'll be in soon." And with that Graham pushed past the door muttering something under his breath and leaving Emma tired and even more confused than before.

She leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. There wasn't much to see. The walls were a pale grey and the tile underneath was littered with black skid marks probably from furniture being rearranged or something. Or marks of a struggle from a failed interrogation.

Just when Emma found herself a pen to toy with the door opened and the click-clack of heels sounded from the hallway.

Regina Mills certainly made an entrance.

Emma's chair dropped on all fours and she stared.

At almost four in the morning, Regina looked like she'd just stepped off the runway. Her sleek black hair fell just above her shoulders and she was dressed in a loose-fitting silk cream blouse and pencil skirt that accentuated long, long legs.

"Ms. Swan."

The blonde tried to push back the desire that coursed through her body as her eyes roamed over smooth looking pale skin but her mind had other ideas, imagining how her body would respond to Emma's mouth running down her neck and sucking at her pulse point and how it'd feel to grab a fistful of dark hair and kiss her lips raw, she wondered how that velvety voice would sound moaning her name…

Her pumps clicked on the tile and behind her, Graham rushed forward to pull out her chair with a mug in one hand. She sunk into it without word and crossed her legs, setting a leather folder in front of her and shuffling through papers soundly.

"So," she began without looking up, "May I assume Graham has caught you up on why you're here?"

Emma glanced up at the officer, who sat the mug of hot chocolate in front of her then sauntered over behind her.

"Uh, yeah. Some kind of vandalism case."

Regina didn't seem to be listening. She pulled closed her folder and clasped her hands together, dark brown eyes catching Emma's and her expression one of boredom.

"At 7:35 Monday morning my client, Ms. Mary Margaret Blanchard, left her boutique and discovered a horribly violent depiction of Snow White in spray paint on the side of her building."

The woman let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm going to be quite honest with you, Ms. Swan. My client is horribly gullible, uneducated on the way of law, and so deluded that it is almost a crime in itself. Truthfully, were I not biased, I would sit back and watch her wallow in sorrow forever like a baby in a strait jacket."

"Wow. Harsh." Says Graham, who found a seat across the room.

"With that said," she continued with a cold glare in the officer's direction, "I've been hired to represent her to the fullest of the law and I therefore cannot overlook the myriad of evidence that ties you to the vandalism."

Emma crossed her arms.

"Alright listen, lady, I don't know what the shit is between you and your client, whoever, but I've never been to this freakin' place. I didn't do it."

Regina brushed a lock of dark hair out of her face.

"Your name was given in an anonymous tip. And how many other orphans on the run in Maine bear the name Emma Swan?"

The blonde froze in shock, but the older woman didn't notice.

"Admitting to the crime will lessen the consequences by a long run, so I suggest-"

"Hold on, how do you know?" Emma found her voice, green eyes fixed hard on the now amused looking lawyer.

"Know what, dear?"

"How do you know who I am? That I'm…on the run, or whatever?" Emma cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Allegedly on the run."

Regina raised a sharp brow, amused. "I'm a lawyer, it's my job to collect information."

Fuck. So she was caught.

Fuck.

"Shit." Emma slumped down in her chair, long legs stretching beneath the table. She buried her face in her hands with a groan.

She wondered bitterly if the woman knew she just destroyed Emma's life with one sentence.

"Anonymous tip," Emma thought aloud. "August."

"Pardon?" Regina's pen was in her hand in a flash, but Emma was too busy having her crisis to notice.

"I've never been here, how the fuck can someone call in an anonymous tip on me? How would they know me? I don't even know what a boutique is, for god sakes."

"Still going with that, huh? I'd reconsider before the trial."

Emma groaned again.

"Drink your cocoa."

A chair scraped against the tile and Graham patted her on the shoulder and whispered, "A boutique is a small flower shop that also sells fertilizers and seeds," before leaving the room.

Regina ignored the officer, watching Emma steadily as the blonde quietly panicked, stale memories churning their way back into her head, screaming and lying and stealing, she couldn't trust anyone, and sticky hands touching, and touching, and touching-

"You know what, I don't even care about what happened to your client's boutique. I'll do probation and clean the streets or some shit, whatever you want, but I cannot go back."

Emma fixed her eyes on the lawyer, trying to convey her desperation the best she could. When there came no response, Emma leaned forward, pale hands gripping tightly to the tabletop.

"You don't understand. I've only got a year until I'm finally an adult. I've built myself a life away from that place. Please, you have to help me."

Regina, appearing to be listening intently, waited until she was finished to respond. A plastic smile appeared.

"Ms. Swan, I am simply here to represent a young woman who is too incompetent to do so herself. Whatever…collateral damage comes with this case being carried out through court doesn't concern me."

Horrified, Emma's body shook with a thunderstorm of emotion like she'd never felt before, anger and desperation and hopelessness igniting the nerves in her body and coursing through her veins; she couldn't hardly move.

And the woman with her empty expression only smiled back.

The next silence was charged, Emma's knuckles white and strained, tendons sticking out and sweat collecting at her palms and her face flushing with anger. She felt like she'd been slapped.

Regina carried on as if nothing had happened, her tone professional but her eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"You're seventeen years old, correct?"

Emma forced a nod.

"I'm signing for you to stay the next few nights in Granny's B&B until the trial. I'm leaving Graham with an itinerary for tomorrow as well. He'll be driving you to the B&B tonight; we'll save the rest of the interview until tomorrow. It's getting late."

Regina packed her leather folder and then stood to open the door in one swift movement. "Graham!"

She crossed her arms and waited until the officer appeared in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"We're ready. Make sure she gets rest tonight; we've got a long day tomorrow."

Regina left without so much as a glance back at the girl whose life she shattered, heels click-clacking away, fading softly, and Emma gritted her teeth because she knew women like her- rich women who wouldn't give so much of a penny in direction of a homeless man or woman on the street but would donate thousands at charity events in front of everyone, where they'd be patted on the back and revered as a hero by all the other rich heiresses with nothing better to do with their time.

Emma knew women like her, and women like her wouldn't give two shits if a dirty orphan was shipped off to a crowded home somewhere far away, where they couldn't touch with their grimy hands the lives of the better off, the privileged.

Emma was a stranger to second chances. Sometimes she felt like she never had a chance in the first place.

"Alright kid, let's go." Graham gestured lazily to the doorway, but it sounded only like static in the background of Emma's roaring thoughts.

There was a moment of contemplation, just one second where Emma considered pushing past that tool of an officer and tackling Regina Mills onto the tile and digging through her pockets to pull out her blade, rusty and timeless and digging into the lawyer's neck as Emma growled threats into her ear and pulled her head back by fistful of black hair so hard she'd whimper softly through her teeth-

She'd done it several times, when food was scarce and she couldn't move without sharp pains shooting through her stomach that screamed through the night. Emma was only a blur of blonde hair when she'd find her target, and within seconds of silent struggle she'd be rushing away with her pocket heavy with wallets and her knife hidden and digging into her palm.

Oh, and she was good at it too.

But she couldn't and she wouldn't. Not under any circumstance. She changed.

The blonde shook her head, the thoughts rushing out of her mind as soon as they'd come and stood, her knees popping from disuse.

"There we go. Come on, now, we'll get you checked in and then you can sleep."

Graham led her out and back into the police car, the wind outside picking up and snow gathering in the crooks of her coat.

When Graham started the car, Emma felt her heartbeat steady and the energy drain from her body. She thought about Eric and Ashley and the baby. Regina already knew about Emma, how much did she know about Ashley, the runaway? If she's sent back to the same place Emma came from, the baby would lose all its chances of growing up in a stable, normal environment.

And it would be Emma's fault.

Graham's music played quietly and Emma melted into the dark. She wished she could disappear into the shadows.

Perhaps she could beg to the judge or something. Or maybe she could meet Regina's client and beg her to drop the charges. A boutique owner should be nice, right? If they care enough to raise and sell plants, maybe they'd pity Emma enough to let her off easy.

She felt sick thinking about it. Emma doesn't grovel.

But she would have all those years ago stuck in the tar pit of the foster system, she would have thrown herself at the feet of her birth parents, if she ever met them, and cried out for them to please take her home.

Emma doesn't grovel now, but she once would have, and she'd do the same for the Ashely's baby who would no doubt re-live the same experiences Emma had.

When Graham stopped the car, Emma's stomach was in knots with worry. Her body tense, she undid the seatbelt and waited for the officer to come around and unlock the door.

"You gonna be alright?" Graham asked when he helped her out of the car, an awkward concern etched in his features.

"That woman." Emma managed, her mouth dry and her throat strained. Apparently, that was all Graham needed to hear.

"Ah, I know. Try not to worry about it, she's got a whole lot of show but she isn't altogether evil."

The wind froze her face, her cheeks pink and green eyes glistening with a layer of wetness she wouldn't allow herself to release. She couldn't cry, not now.

Graham guided her by the elbow, his glove carefully resting on her coat as their feet dug past the snow that packed solid underneath their weight.

It was warm inside. Very homey, but Emma was tense and unmoving, her muscles tight and her jaw aching.

There was a woman she didn't look in the eye at the desk. Graham did the talking, and obviously they were familiar with each other, and soon she was trudging up the stairs, her arms folded tightly around her waist.

Graham thanked the woman, who again tried to address the blonde with little success, and then opened the door so Emma could collapse on the bed.

"If you need anything, I'm outside the door." He said.

"You're not going home?" Emma wondered.

"No. You're still in police custody, but Regina made arrangements for you to stay here instead of the station."

Graham shut the door, leaving Emma dumbfounded and sitting on the edge of the bed.

That would have been a sweet gesture if the very same woman hadn't crushed Emma's entire life with her pumps earlier.

Emma slid her boots off and her coat came along with it. They dropped to the floor somewhere, in the dark Emma couldn't see, and shimmying out of her jeans Emma crawled into the bed and willed her mind to shut down and her heart to quiet for the night.