Her brown hair had finally grown out enough to put it up in a ponytail. Regina Mills tightened the elastic and looked in the mirror to examine her appearance. She lifted her grey tank top and examined her flat stomach as a feeling of disdain washed over her. She sucked in and turned sideways as she pulled her shoulders back and examined her figure. Most women would kill to be as thin as she was, but actresses were expected to be ten cuts above most women. With a sigh, she realized that she had a lot of work to do.

As she tied her tennis shoes, she stood up and took one last look as she headed out to meet her new personal trainer. Regina had felt ecstatic to get the role. She'd spent far too much time reading scripts and heading out on auditions during pilot season. She felt each rejection like a sting. There weren't any good parts for actresses over thirty years old in a society that valued youth above everything else.

When her agent called, and told her the good news that she had been selected for the leading role in a movie tentatively titled, "The Governess," honestly, she barely remembered auditioning. It had been months ago, but the casting director liked her bitchy aloof portrayal of a nanny hired to chaperone a military man's eight-year-old son and thirteen-year-old daughter for the summer on an exotic island.

After the congratulations were given, Regina's agent let the other shoe drop. As the movie was set mostly on the beach, she'd be wearing a bikini for ninety percent of the filming. The director's only concern was that she was beach body ready – per Hollywood standards—by the time shooting commenced in one month. They immediately hired a celebrity trainer who was famous for getting actors and actresses ripped for this exact circumstance.

Training started today and Regina wasn't very pleased about it. She preferred her own methods of weight loss, which was abstaining from food for a few weeks. She didn't want to exercise on a schedule or follow some stupid nutrition plan. She certainly didn't think this 'celebrity' trainer knew anything about what she needed. Regina had probably been in the business since before this little airhead had even hit puberty.

During the drive from her home in Hollywood all the way out to the beach in Santa Monica, where she was supposed to meet up with her trainer for their first of daily sessions, Regina had thought about how this was going to go down. She planned to reason with her and let her know she didn't need her services in the politest way she was capable of.

She found a parking spot and hopped out of her car, looking out at the long expanse of sandy beach and the shining, rippling Pacific Ocean. Regina was lost in her thoughts until she heard a voice over the muted roar of the water.

"Hey, Regina Mills," the blonde fit trainer was jogging towards her across the parking lot. She was wearing tight black work out pants and a cropped fitted white tank top to show off her stomach- which was glistening from a sheen of sweat.

Blinking back to reality, Regina averted her eyes back to the water, "Ugh, you are blonde. What a stereotype." She put her hands on her hips, suddenly feeling extra self-conscious by the fact that a team of people had gotten together to discuss her percentage of body fat and determined that she needed professional help to get in shape.

"I'm Emma Swan, your personal trainer," Emma said with a friendly smile. She extended her hand and Regina looked at it for a few beats before reluctantly shaking it. "So, congratulations on getting the part. I heard it was really competitive, but everyone said you were the best for it."

Regina shrugged, still refusing to make eye contact with her trainer. She took a breath and examined the water.

"Want to get started?" Emma tried again, and Regina thought she sounded like she was in high school trying to get the popular girl to like her. That's just how she wanted it.

"Look, Miss Swan…"

"Oh, you can call me Emma or F.C for Fitness Coach. Whatever you prefer," Emma interrupted, and Regina narrowed her eyes. She turned her head sharply to finally look at her fully.

"I think I have it covered on my own, and I won't be needing any of-," she waved her hand dismissively. "—whatever it is you have to offer."

Emma shook her head, her voice dropped lower, "the studio is paying me to train you every day and create a meal plan to get you cut in a month. I very much think you need to listen to me."

"The studio can go on paying you, and you will simply tell them that we meet daily as far as I'm concerned. I'm sure you're not opposed to collecting a pay check without doing any actual work?" Regina cracked her neck. As if jogging around in tight fitting clothes on the beach was an actual job. This woman had no idea what real discipline was.

Emma put a hand up to the back of her head and scratched. She sighed and squinted against the sun, "No. My reputation is on the line here and I was hired to train you so that's what I'm going to do. No offense, Miss Mills, but I looked at your casting shots and you've got to do this even if it's not going to be fun."

"Oh, you think I'm a fat diva," Regina was livid. Who the hell did this woman think she was anyway to talk to her like that. "Listen to me, dear, I could ruin your reputation with a snap of fingers, and don't think I won't."

Emma laughed bitterly, "I haven't spent two minutes with you yet and you're already threatening me? I've had some crazy clients, but usually the threats don't start until they've done some actual exercise. Get over yourself. Or at least start stretching while you're acting all high and mighty."

"Excuse me?" Regina was taken aback. No one had laughed at her before, not like this. She didn't understand why this trainer wouldn't just back off. She didn't want to work out with her, she should be happy.

"I'm just saying…" Emma slowly raked her gaze down Regina's entire body in a way that made Regina feel completely vulnerable and exposed. "…you're already hot, and you know it, but my sole purpose is to make you even hotter. Everyone who sees the movie will be jealous—wanting what you've got. Men and women will all drool over you. And thirty years from now when you re-watch the movie on some self-loathing Saturday, you're going to appreciate how damn good you looked."

Reluctantly, Regina pouted and started to disagree and then shut her mouth. She looked at her trainer again, and decided she'd give her twenty minutes of her time just to see what happened.

….

Emma smiled and motioned and Regina to follow her down to the sandy beach. Then she started to jog slowly. Regina balled her fists and bit her tongue. Emma didn't look back; the expectation was clear: she was supposed to start jogging.

As Emma's figure bounced further down the beach, Regina seethed inwardly, but took off after her. This was stupid, she was in good shape, and surely a little jog on the beach wasn't all a personal trainer was paid to do.

She had to run to catch up.

While Regina was used to hikes in the Hollywood hills, running in the deep and uneven sand was much harder than she anticipated. She had to work twice as hard to push off and gain any traction.

After just a few minutes under the unforgiving sun she felt perspiration trickling down her forehead and her breathing had picked up to compensate. After ten minutes, she was sucking wind and her calves were burning. Emma maintained a steady pace and looked as though she could run all day.

There was no way Regina was going to give up and walk. To do so, would be akin to admitting defeat.

Abruptly, Emma turned around and stopped. She pointed at the ground, and her smile never wavered. "Good warm up. "

Regina clutched her side and came to a stop, she bent over and clutched her thighs to recover. She looked behind her, trying to determine how far she'd ran. Since the beach stretched on forever it was hard to tell, but this area was much less populated. The ground was rockier and the beach gave way to steep cliffs, that provided cool shadows.

"Lay on your back and I'll stretch you out a bit," Emma was still pointing at the ground.

"You want me to lay in the sand?" Regina didn't want sand sticking all over her skin. There was already enough of the gritty substance weighing down her shoes and scratching at her feet.

"Yeah," Emma replied in a way that made Regina realize that this wasn't up for debate.

"Fine," she grumbled as she slowly sat and then laid down on her back. She hated feeling vulnerable. This trainer was a stranger and Regina really didn't like strangers.

She wasn't super famous, by any means, but she'd been in the business enough to get her name out there, and likewise had run into her share of crazy fans who wanted to cop a feel after asking to pose for a picture. She had long ago stopped reading her Twitter mentions because of the perverted and downright mean things that strangers felt it was their right to say about her.

"Good," Emma hovered over her, and she winced. Then she watched as Emma picked up her leg and pushed it back, stretching her hamstring and calf. "Tell me when to stop."

She pushed a bit harder until Regina told her to stop. The stretch was nice. She pushed leg gently over top of the other one and helped her twist her spine. It felt nice. Then she released her right leg and repeated the sequence with her left. Regina licked her lips and caught Emma watching her face closely as she knelt between her legs.

"What?" Regina snapped, breaking the strange intimate tension that had developed seemingly suddenly on the deserted stretch of beach.

Emma waggled her eyebrows, she ran her hand over Regina's bare shin, "Nothing, just…you haven't shaved your legs for a while, huh?"

Regina balked, "Don't touch me." How dare this woman make a comment like that. It was very unprofessional and just the ammunition Regina would use to get the studio to fire this hack of a trainer.

"Turn over and get ready to plank."

Strangely, she didn't want to obey, but Regina did as she was told even though the sand was now coating her knees and forearms in addition to her back and butt. "How long do I have to hold this?"

"Until, I say."

When Emma finally said, "okay" and released her from the plank, every muscle was burning and trembling.

"Up," Emma barked. Her monosyllabic orders were really starting to grate on Regina's nerves. "20 squats. Arms out, get low, but don't let your knees go over your toes."

"I know how to do a damned squat," Regina sighed and took a step back. Cranking out her squats in record time out of sheer spite. "Now what?"

"20 pushup," Emma ordered without missing a beat.

Regina curled her lip in challenge, but got down in the sand. There was no use in trying to stay clean at this point. The pushups were more difficult, her upper body strength wasn't as developed and she was struggling after 15.

"Take your time," Emma advised her. "Come on, you've got this."

The last 5 made her chest burn and she felt wiped out, her heart rate was soaring.

"Okay, go ahead and catch your breath."

"I'm fine," for some reason she didn't want Emma to think she was weak. It was humiliating.

"You can act friendly, you know," Emma commented as she rolled her eyes. "Some people actually like exercise."

"I like exercise; I don't like you."

"Right…" Emma chuckled, "that's okay, you don't have to like me. I was only suggesting we try and make our time together a little more pleasant. We'll be spending a lot of time together over the next couple months."

"No, we won't," Regina insisted.

"Burpees, until I say."

The workout went on like that for the better part of an hour. Regina being grumpy, but working as hard as possible to show Emma that she didn't need a trainer. And for her part, Emma let all the diva-ish comebacks and passive aggressive glares from her new client roll right off her striated shoulders.

They jogged back to the main part of the beach in lock step, and Emma repeated the process of stretching Regina's legs. This time forgoing any comments about shaving. Regina thought it was a step in the right direction, and a sign she was winning.

The next morning when she woke up barely able to move, seriously sore, she realized Emma had gotten the best of her.

It wasn't the aching pain in her calves and thighs that Regina was thinking about as she laid in bed. Emma was the only thing rolling around in her mind now. Her feelings swung wildly between a grudging appreciation for her trainer and a seething anger that she had somehow tricked her into working out.

The image of Emma running in front of her at the beach, her muscular and lean body dangled in front of Regina like a carrot on a string. She growled in frustration bidding her thoughts to shift. After all, Regina had a role to prepare for, and there was much more to acting than just showing up and looking sexy in swimwear. At least, there was a little more.

She had a pre-production meeting with Director Gold in the afternoon, and she knew he would ask her how her workouts were going with her trainer. If today was anything like yesterday, Regina regretted ever taking this part.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath and summoned up the energy to get out of bed and start her day. After a shower, she wandered downstairs (very slowly and with much cursing) to her lavish, but empty kitchen.

Usually, her personal assistant completed her grocery shopping, but Regina remembered she had told her not to buy any food anticipating her usual preparation diet plan to prepare for film: not eating anything but cottage cheese and celery for a few weeks. It wasn't healthy, but nothing in Hollywood was.

She hunted through her fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, sipping it as she thought about food. Due to meet Emma for round two in an hour, she didn't have much time to go to the store, so she decided to put on a big hat and sunglasses and get fast food. She justified it by the fact that she had burned at least double the number of calories in an Egg McMuffin during her training session.

There was no wait, and no one recognized her while she was shamefully buying McDonald's. It wasn't like the paparazzi were hanging around her every move like she was a Kardashian, but occasionally she'd see a horrifying picture of herself in a trashy magazine. Those types of experiences and the feeling of being watched and photographed when she was trying to go about her day had caused her develop a healthy sense of paranoia.

She pulled up to her house, with her white bag of Mickey D's tucked carefully under her arm, and was already kicking herself for forgetting to ask for ketchup for her hash browns when she noticed something odd. A white Audi convertible was parked on the street in front of her house. Emma Swan was sitting on her front step, legs out and arms crossed. It was like she was trying to flash her impressive biceps in Regina's face, and that smirk she always had was annoying.

Somehow, even though the visit was unexpected, Regina wasn't surprised to see her there. Briefly, she wondered how Emma had gotten her home address, but she reckoned that someone at the studio- someone who was about to be thoroughly chastised and probably fired- had given it out.

"What the hell are you doing?" Regina said by way of greeting her trainer. Emma watched her carefully, and tilted her head to focus immediately on the bag with the golden arches. She had already forgotten about her bag of fried guilt, being her mind had been immediately redirected to the buff chick sitting on her front step.

"Hey, I could ask you the same. McDonald's, really? Give it here," Emma stuck out her hand calmly and beckoned Regina to hand over her breakfast.

"No," Regina countered. "I don't recall you ever mentioning anything about what I can and can't eat."

At that she laughed and pushed herself up from the steps to come toe to toe with Regina, "Okay, but um… I didn't think I had to tell you not to eat McDonald's. Like really?"

She forcefully took the bag from Regina's hands and opened it up to peer inside while Regina balked and fretted. She would have fought her for it, but her triceps were too sore to lift her arms. Instead she pouted and asked the only question that came to mind, "Why are you here?"

"Funny, you ask after this," she crushed the bag in her hands and waved it in her face, staring at her intently. "I'm here to take you grocery shopping."

"What? We're not doing a work out?" Regina scrunched her face in confusion.

"No, you need to recover from what we did yesterday. I mean look at you- you can barely walk, and you clearly need to be…broken of these unhealthy cravings," Emma waved the bag full of crushed McDonald's again and grabbed Regina's hand. "Come on, I'll drive."

"Ow," Regina mustered pettily, even though Emma holding her hand to lead her down the driveway to her convertible didn't hurt, only her pride did.

As she reluctantly got in the passenger seat, she fixed her hat and put her big sunglasses back on. She didn't want to be caught on camera out and about shopping for blueberries with Emma, as a single woman in her thirties, she had enough unkind rumors swirling around her. She could practically see the headline in her mind's eye as Emma floored the Audi and they took off down the street: "Old Actress Regina Mills Shacks Up with Hot Blonde."

"Look if you want to an Egg McMuffin and hash browns, I get it, but I'll show you how to make a healthier version at home. As my client, your body is my body, and if I wouldn't put something in my body I sure as hell don't want you putting it in yours, okay? Trust me a little, we'll get through this," Emma was rambling on, and Regina had lost the thread of the conversation, interpreting the idea of her body belonging to Emma a bit differently.

She blushed and banished the sordid thoughts that were bubbling up unbidden in her mind Emma turned her head and smiled brightly, and Regina swallowed hard. Then Emma patted her knee softly in reassurance as they made their way to the nearest Whole Foods.

Trusting Emma-that was a new concept. Regina was coming to the realization that she might have a harder time trusting herself when it came to Emma, which was very troubling. That, and she was probably going to make her eat tofu McMuffins.

….

Emma pulled up to the Los Angeles Whole Foods Market and tapped the steering wheel, "Ready?"

Was this infuriating woman always so energetic? Regina wondered as she rolled her eyes. Regina didn't respond, she just got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. It annoyed her that her "F.C" seemed to be nothing more than a glorified babysitter. Work outs were one thing, but the studio put her trainer up to take her shopping as if she couldn't feed herself properly was another point of contention entirely.

In her late teens and early twenties, Regina had been on a steady unhealthy eating kick to keep her figure slim and trim. She had affectionately referred to her eating plan as the 'vodka and cigarettes' diet, but as she had grown older and faced even harsher standards in Hollywood she mainly subsisted on lettuce and tea for years.

The air conditioning hit the women as the automatic doors open and offered reprieve from the heat of the sun shining down on what was a gorgeous California day. It was difficult for Regina to keep up with Emma in the busy grocery store, her legs were so stiff and sore from the beating she had endured yesterday.

"So, let's start with vegetables, and don't worry—I'll take you shopping once a week so you always have fresh stuff to make. You do cook, right?" Emma asked as she started bagging up avocados and peppers to begin to fill the cart.

"I do live alone, and I'm tiny so let's not go crazy," Regina muttered, her cheeks burning as she tried not to notice shopper by giving her interested looks. "And I can cook, but I choose not to, most of the time."

"Yeah, I saw that," Emma blew out her cheeks and gave Regina a lopsided smile. "No fast food, please? Your director will have my ass if he finds out you went to McDonald's while you're on my time."

Regina shook her head in embarrassment and followed Emma hopelessly as she placed a head of cabbage and two heads of cauliflower in the cart. "I don't need to explain myself to you, I'm an adult and I'm plenty rich and semi-famous so if I want fast food on occasion I will damn well do as I please."

"No, no you won't, because you don't have as much freedom as you think," Emma swiveled on her heel and opened a container of raspberries to inspect their freshness. She plucked a juicy, dark red one out and popped it in her mouth, chewing carefully, "Mmm, at the peak of freshness. Try."

She took another berry from the plastic container and pushed it up to Regina's lips, she parted them slowly in surprise and before she could process what was happening she realized that Emma had shoved it in her mouth. She could do nothing but chew dutifully and swallow.

"Don't do things like that, especially not in public," Regina scanned the open produce section carefully looking for any signs of cameras. "I..don't want to be hand fed fruit."

"Whatever," Emma shrugged and pushed the cart toward the cereal aisle. "Do you like oatmeal?"

"Yeah," Regina wrinkled her nose, her mind whirling with questions, "What did you mean that I don't have freedom like I think I do?"

Emma shrugged again, "You said you have money and you're famous, I get it- so am I. I've been on the Dr. Oz show like six times this year, but I also know you're subject to a ton of rules about how you act, where you go, what you say and do… all of it. You're an actress and you need this film role to keep yourself relevant. Things never get easier, believe me."

"Ugh, please don't compare a major motion picture to your measly stint on daytime TV," Regina crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Emma was reading every label on all six million brands of oatmeal as she said distractedly, "that's what you got out of what I said? Actresses sure are shallow."

"I am not shallow, and you're the one who brought up Dr. Oz…" Regina was about to storm out of Whole Foods and call Director Gold to demand that he fire this joke of a fitness trainer. Emma somehow was under the false assumption that she could just walk into Regina's life and take over, and she certainly wasn't going to stand for it to happen like this. First, she was dictating her vegetables and oatmeal intake, next, she was trying to manage her career. It was absurd.

"Let's get your proteins and then we'll go back to your house and do some cooking," Emma pushed the cart toward the back of the store, and Regina took a hesitant step forward, turning her neck to look back at the parking lot. She could call an Uber and get the hell out of there… maybe the Uber would run her by the McDonald's drive-thru in another act of protest.

"Come on, Regina, I need to know which cut of free-range chicken you like best," Emma hollered at her and reluctantly Regina hobbled after her. If she was going to have eat what Emma was picking out, she certainly at least wanted a say on what kind of chicken she was buying.