Chapter Text
“What do I think? Let me show you exactly what I think, Mr. Rogers.”
Rising slowly from the high backed leather chair, she circled the conference table with a confident stride. Unsure of which display disgusted her more, she decided Rogers’ smarmy grin took the prize as she was forced to step close to him in order to grasp the pathetically predictable model on the table before him. Her expression remained unreadable when he swiveled in his chair as she approached, his legs spread wide, hands leaving the armrests to settle behind his head. What is it about small minded men needing to take up as much space as possible?
“Desire a closer look at perfection, love?”
His grin reminded her of an oil slick and made her desire nothing but a hot shower to rub the stink of his talentless presence off herself. Ignoring his cocky attitude she reached out with one hand, picked the model up by the base and turned to walk towards the door of the conference room. “I’ll need to show this to David.”
“Well, well, I didn’t think the mighty Regina Mills, required permission to—”
Allowing the model to tip forward in her hand, she released her grip and dropped the entire thing quite unceremoniously into the trash can. The sound of the broken pieces on impact was almost as satisfying as the broken look on Rogers’ face as amusement quickly turned to shock.
“I do not require permission to have the trash taken out, Mr. Rogers. Now then, I believe you’ll find the door in the same place you left it.”
Sputtering and blustering nonsensically he rose from his chair and scurried to the trash trying to salvage as much of the model as possible. “I...this is...you’ll be sorry you did that…”
Turning on her heel already halfway through the large glass door, her expression remained neutral but her tone dipped sternly. “I highly doubt that...love.” Spinning back to exit he could hear her tell the receptionist to inform David that the trash in conference room four was full and required attention.
*****
That sound; unmistakable and cutting like a blade through the dull noise of the office. Plenty of women wore heels at the firm but there was something distinct, something almost biting, about the click of Regina Mills stilettos on the cool marble tile of the floor. Hands got busier, eyes became more focused, and backs straightened when that sound approached. On a good day, the sharp clicks would turn and head straight into the office with R. Mills, Chief Executive Officer, engraved on its door. On a bad day, they would continue past the large mahogany framed entrance and all you could do was pray not to be their intended target.
Regina could ruin the best day of your life or take your worst and bring it to new depths with nothing but a look. When she took the time to seek you out, there was nothing to be done but wait for the acidic words to burn and pray you came out alive.The last victim, Marian Marcus, who still recovered from being left at the altar five weeks prior had burst into tears and became so hysterical had to be escorted by multiple security guards out of the building.
Unfortunately for some poor soul, that frosty December morning was a bad, very bad day. Belle French mentally shouted a curse word the second those heels clicked to a halt right next to her desk. Hand gripping a pencil tighter than necessary she hesitantly peered upward upon the impatient clearing of a throat.The beautiful pair of deep brown eyes that met hers lacked even a hint of warmth. In fact, Belle swore, not for the first time, if she looked deep enough Satan himself might be visible within those pupils.
“Would you care to explain to me why,” Regina glanced at her diamond encrusted, platinum watch, “it is nearly ten-thirty and I have not received my coffee?” Her tone made it clear that no answer the twenty-something could have offered would have been acceptable. Instead of waiting for the unwelcome excuse, Regina added another layer of ice to her tone. “Rectify this. Now...Brenda.”
Dozens of ears and eyes within range of the exchange pretended they weren’t focused on the pair as the younger of the two further tightened her grip on the innocent writing tool. Somehow Belle’s expression remained pleasant while a storm brewed within. She needed this job. She loved this job. She just despised the woman for whom she had been working the last year and four months.
Sixteen months of internship under her belt, yet Regina still treated her like a secretary. Not that there was anything wrong with being a secretary, but she had worked her behind off in the hopes of earning a place as an official junior architect at Mills Designs. Regina was aware of that. She was also aware of her name, but insisted on pushing her buttons for kicks.
Belle pasted on a smile while nodding. “Yes, Ms. Mills. Right away, ma’am. Do you want it in your office?”
“No.” Delicately painted full lips arranged into a smirk. “I’d like you to serve me in the restroom.”
The smile persisted. The pencil was in danger of being snapped in half. “I’ll bring it right over.”
“And don’t even think about going to that cheap dive next door. Americano. Cream, no sugar.”
A crisp twenty dropped on her desk Belle glanced between it and her boss as she was reminded (like always when sent on an errand) to return with her change. At least she could say one positive thing about Regina. She always paid. However, the fact that she wanted the good stuff meant she expected Belle to walk across the street and down one block to the popular and usually crowded coffeehouse Buzz Off in the frigid, snowy weather. Granted she could drive, but that didn’t make any sense. Plus odds were high she wouldn’t be able to find a parking spot.
“From Buzz Off?”
Irritation suffused Regina’s face. “Do you know of any other place around here that makes a decent Americano?”
Belle shook her head. “Ms. Mills, it’s freezing out there and I’m just getting over the flu…” She detested taking time off but Belle had been forced to use five sick days, having returned only two days prior.
Chilled brown eyes took a quick scroll over her face. “You look all right to me,” Regina dryly said. Two fingers pushed the twenty dollar bill closer to Belle. “Put on your big girl panties and go already.” Head cocked to the side she studied one of her youngest employees with an exceptionally well plucked eyebrow. “Or is this too difficult a task for you?”
Two desks over Emma Swan ignored the pixie haired brunette to her left quietly encouraging her to stay out of it and leapt to her feet, clearing her throat loudly to get Regina’s attention. The blonde produced a cheery smile, which Regina responded to with a frown. She was on the verge of saying something when Emma beat her to it. “I volunteer as tribute!” Several people laughed, the pixie haired brunette slapped a hand over her face and slowly shook her head, Belle stared with an unreadable expression and Regina glared.
“What?”
That one word tossed toward Emma was so sharp it should have split some part of her skin. However, she didn’t seem fazed by her boss’s tone, her smile merely appearing to broaden. Emerald eyes twinkling, Emma linked her fingers behind her back.
“I’d be delighted to get your espresso.”
An already hard glare further hardened. “Americano, Swan.”
A grin dared to take purchase upon Emma’s lips. Not for the first time she wondered why Regina insisted on referring to her by her surname when she often referenced employees by their first names. It didn’t bother her. She was just curious. “I was just kidding--”
“I don’t pay you to be a comedian. In fact, I don’t pay you to get me coffee either. Do you not have anything more productive you could be focusing on?”
“Of course, Ms. Mills. But right now I’m waiting on Mr. Gold’s office to messenger over the site plan modifications from your last meeting so I have a few minutes and don’t mind running out at all.”
Regina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her brow knit together as she seemed to study Emma’s face for motive. Taking her momentary silence as consent, Emma snatched her brown leather jacket from the back of her chair, collected her knit cap and gloves from the desk and headed for the elevators, managing to make it just far enough not to be able to decipher the final acid tipped comment thrown in Belle’s direction. There was no missing however, the not so gentle sound of the heavy mahogany door hitting its frame just before the elevator doors slipped closed.
As she navigated the slush and snow covered sidewalk on the way to the coffee shop, Emma contemplated Regina’s disposition just a few minutes prior. The meeting with Rogers must not have gone well. Why Regina continued entertaining that hack’s design proposals she would never know. It was almost like she just enjoyed telling him no and sending him crawling back to his boss to explain losing another proposal. Emma smirked at the thought of Rogers cursing and stomping out of the office like a petulant child, pieces of his broken model in his hands. Regina was brutal. Dodging a puddle, her smirk quickly turned to a frown. She wasn’t always this brutal. There was a time when Regina was...different.
Four years ago Emma had literally jumped with excitement when she landed the interview for junior design consultant at Mills Designs, one of the most prestigious architecture firms in the city. Walking into Regina’s office had been like entering the Taj Mahal. The perfect, clean lines of the room’s decor seemed more fitting of a palace than an office and the woman who interviewed her seemed more fitted to be worshiped like royalty than a CEO.
When Regina had entered the room with Emma’s portfolio in her hands, Emma barely found the air to breathe and to this day could hardly remember anything she said in the interview. What she did remember were the gorgeous brown eyes that never seemed to leave hers and the way the tiny scar on the woman’s upper lip seemed to beg to be kissed every time she smiled.
Great. Of course there’s a line. Emma dutifully stood behind the last person, almost at the entrance to Buzz Off, and busied herself taking stock of the baked goods that lined the counter while she waited.
That smile. Regina could light up a room with the curl of her lip. But it was something Emma hadn’t seen in almost four years. Ever since… A frown having settled on her face, Emma attempted to shove a certain memory away, attempted to stuff it back into one of many mental drawers, yet it clearly replayed as though it had just taken place the day prior.
It was Monday morning and Regina should have been at work hours ago. Her secretary tried her cell phone at least four times and had even tried her home phone when the hour clicked past nine. People were starting to worry and wonder. Regina was never in later than seven, and the rumblings in the office were beginning to get louder and more speculative.
“Someone should go over to her apartment and check on her.”
“I don’t know. Do you think she’d want someone to do that? She’s probably just sick and forgot to call.”
“I’ve been here for five years and she’s never taken a sick day…”
Emma listened to the concerned banter around the water cooler but noticed the lack of action. Although she joined the team a little over a year ago she still felt like the new kid on the block so figured it wasn’t really her place to say anything. However, Regina was a great boss and Emma would surely want someone to check on her if the situation was reversed.
Grabbing her jacket, she avoided the group congregating in the corner and headed for the door. She knew which building Regina lived in and figured the doorman could probably help with the exact apartment number if she asked nice enough.
Twenty minutes later the flash of a smile had the doorman handing her his number along with the information she needed. Penthouse Four...of course. Paper with the doorman’s number dumped in the trash next to the elevator door as she exited, Emma hesitated for just a second glancing between the only two doors on the floor. Neither door had a number. How was she supposed to know which…
The door on the left suddenly swung open but all Emma could see was the back of a large man dressed in blue backing out of the door. This couldn’t be Regina’s-- Emma’s eyes widened as she digested the scene unfolding before her eyes. There were three men in blue. Between two of them was a bed on wheels with a large black bag on top. No. It was a gurney. These were paramedics. Oh God, was Regina...? No. The third man was talking to someone just inside the apartment door and the other voice was soft but unmistakably Regina’s.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct and here is the number for the morgue. There’s no reason for you to come down now as the processing will take some time… Ma’am? Did you hear me?”
The voice that answered him back sounded empty, lost, and almost bewildered from where Emma was standing just outside the door now as the other two men had made their way toward the elevator.
“The police report will show that she passed from illness, but you will still have to go down to the station and sign the papers. They’ll call you when the body is admitted. Do you understand?”
Hearing Regina make no reply, Emma didn’t stop to think and stepped into the entrance. “I’ll take the number, sir. Is there anything else she needs to know?
Turning to face Emma, the paramedic, John, according to his name tag, looked almost relieved to deal with someone other than Regina who was clearly in shock and seemed to almost be looking straight through the man toward the end of the hallway. “No that’s it. All the information is on this form.” He exited quickly, leaving the door open. Emma shut it behind him, still trying to comprehend what was happening, desperately trying to think of something to say, when Regina broke the silence for her.
“She was sick for so long, but I didn’t think… I just never thought…” Her voice cracked and Emma thought she was going to cry. Instead she furrowed her brow and turned to look at the kitchen. “I should have washed these last night, but I…” Cutting herself off again, Regina walked towards the sink and began scrubbing a dish with intent.
“Regina, I--”
“I hate when she leaves dishes overnight like this, she knows they’re impossible to clean. I don’t know how many times I’ve told her--” Regina’s voice hitched again and Emma saw her hand shaking. When she moved to continue washing the dish, it slipped from her hand and clattered loudly against the other items in the sink. Regina made no move to pick it up again as she stood with her hands gripping the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white.
“Regina, I…” Emma started again.
“I should wash the sheets on the bed. I meant to…” Her voice was softer this time. Like she was running out of words or couldn’t quite take enough air into her lungs. Everyone in the office knew Regina’s wife was ill, but no one knew how serious it was. Regina never let anyone see how difficult the last two years had been for her. Jessica always made her hold onto hope and keep faith that she could beat it and Regina had stayed positive for her.
Emma took a hesitant step forward to stand next to her, placing her hand over Regina’s. She had never seen Regina look so small. No power suit, no heels, just a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Even without makeup she was stunning but right now all Emma could focus on was making sure she wasn’t going to fall. She appeared to be hanging onto the sink for dear life.
Fixing her eyes on Emma’s hand over hers like she had never seen anything so interesting, Regina continued to speak softer and softer. “I made sure she looked nice for them. I put her favorite outfit on her before I called. She always likes to look her bes— liked. She liked to look her best when we…” And that was it. Regina’s knees buckled as the sobs racked her small frame and Emma closed the final gap between them catching her in her arms and supporting her weight.
She held her for two hours after carrying her to the couch before Regina passed out from exhaustion, Emma realizing she probably hadn’t slept at all the night before. Emma was glad she was able to answer the phone quickly enough to not wake her when the police called and took the information needed. She had called the office to explain and had also managed to find a phone number for Regina’s sister in New York who had promised to come immediately. When Emma returned to the couch and sat, unsure if she should go or not, but Regina stirred just enough to move up and rest her head on Emma’s lap, clinging to her leg with her arm like she would slip off the edge of a cliff without it. So Emma stayed.
Emma had transferred Regina to what seemed to be a guest bedroom around three o’clock. She didn’t think putting her in the master would be a good idea since… When she had awoken around five, Emma tried to give her some tea but she had refused and so Emma had just held her, slowly stroking her hair until she quieted again.
By 7:00P.M. Emma was almost dozing on the couch in the living room when the sound of a door closing down the hall startled her awake. Emma looked up as Regina entered the room, still dressed casually but now with her hair more neatly brushed and light makeup applied.
“You may go now. I’ll call the office tomorrow.”
“Regina--”
“Go, Emma.” Although her tone lacked anger she sounded much more forceful.
Emma couldn’t go. The idea of walking out, leaving Regina there alone caused pain to shoot through her stomach. Perhaps Regina thought she wanted to be alone, thought it best that she was alone, but in Emma’s opinion that was wrong. She needed someone with her while…
Regina turned and walked toward the door, holding it open for Emma to go. “My sister will here in the morning. I do not require a babysitter.”
Emma stood hesitantly. She didn’t want to upset her further but also really didn’t want to go. The look on Regina’s face however, made it clear that any argument wouldn’t be won so she slowly picked up her coat and moved to the door. When she got there, she stopped and tried to put her hand on Regina’s but the moment her fingers brushed her skin, Regina pulled back like she had been burned.
“Regina—“
“Thank you for coming, Miss Swan.” And that was it. She was on the other side of the door before she could say another word and there was nothing more to be done despite the ache in her chest for the woman inside the cold empty apartment.
Were those black bean brownies? They never had any of those left this late in the morning. Emma stepped to the counter and ordered the coffee along with the last two brownies, garnering quite the nasty look from the woman just behind her. Although it was the holiday season, Emma risked Santa Claus putting a pound of coal in her stocking when she took the time to make eye contact with the woman, wink at her and produce a toothy smile on her way by with a tall cup and small, pale blue paper bag.
It taking her the better part of ten minutes to make it back to the other side of the street and through the revolving doors leading into the tall building Mills Designs shared with seven other businesses (yet they had the privilege of being on the top floor) Emma was about to gladly head inside when jingling bells caught her attention. Visible puffs escaping her mouth, she looked toward fake Santa seated on a folding chair while ringing a bell, a suspended bucket in front of him. A nearby sign claimed all donations would be given to a local homeless shelter. Paranoia pushed away that at the end of the day fake Santa would pocket all monies collected, Emma extracted two fives from her wallet, walked over, wished the man who resembled a rotund, red popsicle Merry Christmas and dropped the folded bills into his bucket.
Once back on the twelfth floor Emma could have moaned when a pleasant heat wrapped around her frigid form. Without glancing in a mirror she just knew her cheeks were a rosy red and her fingers felt a bit stiff despite thick gloves. Instead of heading directly to her boss’s office she went into the women’s restroom, placed the coffee and bag on the counter and checked her reflection. Yep. Rudolph’s nose had nothing on her cheeks.
Gloves tugged off and shoved into her jacket pocket Emma placed her hands under the motion activated faucet, warm water soon running over them thawing her digits. Hands dried and provided lotion rubbed in she removed the knit cap and began combing warmed fingers through her hair while not allowing herself to entertain the fact she was doing this in preparation of seeing Regina. Nope. Just because she first took the time to bring some order to her hair, touch up her lipstick and carefully moisturize her hands and forearms once she took the time to roll up the sleeves of her dress shirt didn’t mean she primped for her boss. That was just ridiculous.
Reminding herself that she should go before Regina’s Americano had the chance to cool, Emma grabbed her purchases and left the bathroom. Half a minute later stood in front of her boss’s door she peered through an opening between the blinds noticing Regina sat behind her desk, glasses perched upon her nose as she focused on the computer screen. Two knocks later allowed entrance, she walked into the spacious office and shut the door.
Americano and small bag placed on the desk Emma patiently waited for the other woman to finish composing an email. Once sent Regina dropped her glasses near a cordless mouse and peered up at Emma with an unreadable expression before wordlessly switching her attention to the cup and bag. A dark brow slowly lifted as curiosity leaked into those brown eyes.
When she delicately sniffed the air a smile tugged at Emma’s lips while she thought about how cute the woman was. Most...okay, probably no one would describe Regina Mills as cute, but Emma definitely held that opinion. She remembered. She remembered several occasions when her boss had behaved in an adorable manner. Of course those occasions took place long ago. She briefly wondered if the cuteness could ever make a comeback.
A manicured finger tapped the bag. “What is this, Swan...a black bean brownie?”
Although she yearned to perform a little jig, Emma managed to keep herself still. Regina attempted to play it cool yet her employee could tell she was interested in the contents of that bag. Two weeks into working at Mills Designs Emma learned the woman was practically addicted to the black bean brownies she insisted only Buzz Off could bake correctly
Emma shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” Disappointment landed upon Regina’s face until the blonde playfully added, “It’s two !” She could have sworn Regina grinned at her, but it vanished with such swiftness she half thought she might have hallucinated. The eye roll was real though.
“Thank you, Swan. Now I imagine you must be very busy. Don’t let me keep you.” Regina slid her glasses back on her face and suddenly seemed very interested in her email again.
“I...yes, Ms. Mills.” Emma studied her for a moment longer, a slight frown forming on her lips. She really was impossible to read sometimes. However, as Emma reached for the door the unmistakable sound of a paper bag rustling turned that small frown to a grin instantly. Without stopping on her way out , she threw the comment over her shoulder. “Enjoy the brownies...Regina.” She didn’t need to see the look on Regina’s face, she already knew the perfect arch that perfect eyebrow was set in and it broadened her grin even further as she returned to her desk.
*****
Later that evening, Emma sat in her apartment with a cup of hot chocolate reading the invitation that had come in the mail that day. The beautifully scripted hand-lettering in gold ink was something to behold. Regina hand wrote out each and every invitation herself and always insisted on mailing them to each employee’s home. She thought it more personal than an email invite or simply throwing it in their inbox, and if there was one thing Regina Mills did well, it was throw a party. Every year the entire office looked forward to the office Christmas celebration. Regina spared no expense on the food, the top shelf liquor, decorations and gifts for each employee which in past years had included the likes of a 32” flat screen television. There wasn’t one employee, regardless of whether they celebrated the holiday or not, who missed the party. Well...actually there was one .
Regina hadn’t actually attended the annual party since… in about four years. She made sure everything was perfect but then it was almost like she was punishing herself by not allowing herself to enjoy it. There seemed to be a lot of little things Regina did to punish herself and Emma’s heart broke just a little more for her every time she witnessed one.
Emma finished her hot chocolate with a look of resolve settling on her face. That’s enough. It was true she hadn’t really known Jessica very well outside of a few chance meetings when she’d stop by the office to bring Regina lunch or pick her up for a surprise dinner, but there was one thing she did know. Jessica loved Regina more than anything in the world and would hate that she wasn’t allowing herself to enjoy life. She would want Regina to find happiness. Maybe Emma couldn’t do that for her, but she could at least try to get her to enjoy the holidays again.
*****
Sitting at her desk the next morning, Emma sighed heavily. It was no use. She had spent all night trying to think of ways to get Regina to want to come to the party this year, but everything she came up with just seemed dumb. She had to get creative. She would have to catch Regina off guard and pique her interest like yesterday. What she wouldn’t do to see that flash of a grin again…
“Are you trying to figure out the meaning of life?”
“Huh?” Emma looked up startled to see the pixie cut brunette, Mary Margaret, studying her intently from the desk to her left.
“Either that or you're trying to mentally will your coffee cup to magically refill itself as you’ve been staring at it for literally the last twenty minutes. What’s up, Em? Some special project have you stumped?”
“Um. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Emma felt her face flush a little and mentally cursed herself.
Mary Margaret prattled on without noticing the blush on Emma’s cheeks or at least not commenting on it. “Did you get your invitation yesterday? I can’t decide whether or not to bring a date this year or not. I can’t believe Christmas is just two weeks away. I don’t know how I’ll get all my shopping done in time. My sister is impossible to shop for. What do you buy a woman who’s married to a filthy rich stockbroker anyway? Ugh...I’ll think of something.”
Emma’s ears perked at the last part. “What do you buy her usually?”
“Hmm? My sister? Oh I don’t know. Usually wrack my brain for something small but personal. I can’t afford anything big enough to impress so I try to go small and cute. One year I bought her a bunch of little stuff from our childhood, you know, favorite candy and things like that. Wrote her a fun little card with a poem to go with it. Not sure if she really liked it, but..”
Emma’s ears had tuned her out as her brain kicked into high gear somewhere around “small and cute”. That was it. Little stuff, just like the brownies. Emma could do that. She could think of a dozen things right off the top of her head that Regina liked or maybe needed. A dozen? Oh my God...that was perfect. Grabbing her phone, Emma tapped open the calendar app and counted the days she had left. Fourteen. Perfect. That would give her a two day head start to plan.