Chapter Text
She hadn't intended to stay in this town for so long, not at first. She'd coached herself very clearly on her intentions while taking the boy back to his adoptive mother. She was to bring the kid home, lecture his caregiver quite sternly about letting him out of her control for so long, and then leave before he could get too attached.
Emma, of course, should have predicted that her plans would go awry. She'd been expecting Henry's account of his mother to be exaggerated, the tall tale of an idealistic and naive child. Instead, she found something seriously wrong. Everything Regina said triggers that little voice in her head that told her when someone was lying. The people in this town treated her like a total outsider, like they all wanted her gone immediately. It was incredibly suspicious.
Her mind was made up almost before she even realized. With a room rented and her bag unpacked into the minimal furnishings in said room, she was as settled as she ever got. She had to admit, it was far from the worst place she'd ever holed up in.
Getting a job in the Sheriff's office right away was an unexpected bonus, another anchor on her ship. And having seen Henry's joy in her continued presence was another anchor yet. For now, she was content to stay.
Her first day on the job was unremarkable... with one exception. Graham showed her around the main street, indicating where various shops, restaurants and the like were located.
"Job's fairly simple," he said, as soon as their brief and rather disappointing tour had ended. "Not much crime around here, the odd vandalism or drunk and disorderly. Most just need a shoulder to cry on." He grinned.
Emma flashed him a wan smile. "What do you do every day, then?" she asked. She was curious to see how much Graham would divulge, although so far had found him more honest than most.
"Oh, this and that," he said, noncommittally. "Fair amount of simply settling little disputes. You'll get the hang of it soon enough."
Emma shrugged. She couldn't believe him fully, but her inborn lie detector remained quiet for the moment. His evasion of the question didn't, apparently, count as an outright lie.
"One last thing," said Graham, hesitating with his key in the door of the station itself. Emma bit her lip in anticipation, experience telling her that this 'one last thing' is likely to be a relatively large hurdle.
"We have one long term prisoner we watch out for," Graham explained. He opened the door, holding it for her as she stepped on through.
She stepped in blindly, the dark disorienting her. The light from the street vanished as Graham let the door swing shut. After a brief moment, he flicked a switch and threw the room into a bright, stark white light.
"Bloody hell!" a voice exclaimed loudly. "Give a fellow a bit of a warning next time, will you?"
The light revealed a neatly organized room. A pair of desks, a computer moniter perched atop them. An array of manila folders were lined up on a bookshelf, with several books filling up the bottom two shelves. There was a worn looking sofa tucked away in a corner in front of an old fashioned TV screen.
In the very back, there was a jail cell. Bitter experience told Emma it wasn't a particularly uncomfortable one at that. A small but comfortable looking chair, a similar quality cot. It even had a little curtain strung up to delineate the bathroom area. Still, she couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the occupant.
A man lay draped across the cot, arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. He was wearing a black denim jacket over a plain white shirt, with matching black jeans. He was groaning and whining mightily, mumbling about the sheriff always interrupting his best naps.
"Meet Killian," Graham said wryly. "Bloke's been arrested more times than I can count for public intoxication. I figured I'd save us both time and keep him locked up here for good."
Emma grinned. He had to be joking. The cell was clearly not meant to be inhabited long term, more of a simple holding area until the occupant was released or sent to a more secure facility.
Not to mention her lie detector. It pinged slightly, humming its warning in her ear. Whatever this guy had done, it was nothing as simple as public intoxication.
It bothered her as well, the implication that Graham had simply locked a man up without a trial. Without giving him his best chance. This, above everything else, convinced her that he was joking.
"What's he really in for?" Emma asked, lifting an eyebrow. She was again more curious to Graham's demeanor at the question than his actual answer.
The man's face grew cold. "No matter," he said, in a tone that brokered no arguments. "He stays. By order of the Mayor herself."
Killiam groaned theatrically. "It's bloody un-American," he said. His left arm was still splayed over his face, hiding it from Emma's scrutiny. His cadence and accent amused her, in tandem with the word choice.
"Are you even American?" she asked, turning away from Graham.
Finally, the man sat up. Emma was startled immediately by his appearance. Bright, intoxicatingly blue eyes stared at her from lids faintly smudged with black eyeliner. His face was adorned with a well kept beard. Emma had to marvel at the kind of person who would put the effort into maintaining the makeup even in a jail cell. It was either admirable, insane, or a fair amount of both.
"I still have rights, don't I?" he asked entreatingly.
Emma noted carefully how the man avoided answering her question. Still, he struck her as a bit of an outsider himself.
If anyone will spill the beans on this place, it's him, she thought. He should have no great love for it.
Emma met his gaze. It was futile to try and pry answers from the man with Graham's watchful eye present. She'd have to sneak around and get him on his own.
"Maybe you do," she said, and hoped he'd read into that statement. She hoped he'd see that she objected to his treatment, that she didn't intend to simply accept the Mayor's word as law.
He blinked. "Oh, aye," he said. "What's your name, then?"
Graham seemed annoyed at the question but chose to remain silent.
Emma chose to avoid the question for now, turning back to Graham. "He's really going to be here every single day?" she groaned. She was hoping to throw Graham off her plan, to convince him that she intended to ignore the prisoner.
Graham frowned. "Unfortunately, it's a necessity," he said.
Her lie detector pinged once again.
Emma bit her lip.
"Oi," Killian said. "I asked you a question."
This time, Emma ignored him due to her own annoyance. She could understand why Graham wanted to keep him locked up, just for one petty moment.
"What do we do with him?" she asked.
Graham warmed to her ever so slightly. "Keep him fed and watered, and away from mischief. Trust me, it's harder than it looks."
"Sod off," Killian interrupted.
Graham paid him no heed. "Just do your best to keep him away from any confidential information, although I can't imagine what he'd do with it while locked up." Graham grinned humorlessly.
Emma flashed him a crocodile smile of her own. "Sounds simple enough."
"I'll see you back here at 8am tomorrow morning," Graham said, evidently deciding orientation was over for the day. "We'll be patrolling the perimeter. Wear good shoes." He winked.
Emma nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
One last comment piped up from the jail cell, where Killian had flopped ungainly back onto the cot. "I'll see you too," he said. "Perhaps you'll pay me notice then."
Emma fought to hide the amused smile.
Informative or not, her conversation with the prisoner tomorrow promised to be quite entertaining.
FIN