Chapter Text
John Bridges was nothing short of ordinary.
30, Caucasian, unemployed. Disappeared from society after jumping his bail.
A case that Emma had seen a hundred times over.
It was midafternoon when she climbed into her bug and started down the road, off to track down another washed up businessman who, after his arrest and plea for bail assistance 2 months ago, clearly had no intention of paying back her employers.
Emma absentmindedly tapped on her steering wheel as an old country song crackled in and out of the radio. She’d been driving for over two hours now, leaving the bustling city of Boston behind and finding herself steering down the winding roads of rural Maine, surrounded by thick layers of forest.
It wasn’t the ideal location to find a runaway, Emma had to admit, but her boss had warned her that this would be a challenge. And frankly, Emma needed a challenge.
Her job offered a slight thrill upon catching the thieves, of course, but beyond that, Emma found that her life was starting to grow…mundane.
I have a feeling that’s going to change today, she mused to herself, surveying the overgrown landscaping as she drove. This guy’s gone totally off the grid.
Her investigation had led her to this general area, and she’d really been hoping that her runaway would be bunkered down in a motel of some sort. However, after another half an hour of driving, Emma had not caught even a glimpse of civilization.
Her radio fizzled out into a thick static, signaling to Emma that she had truly wound up in the middle of nowhere. Maybe this guy’s not worth all the trouble, she thought bitterly.
Frustration coursed through her mind—she had severely underestimated the drive, and now the sun was sinking towards the horizon, casting the surrounding trees in an orange glow.
“Fuck this,” she hissed under her breath, slowing the car and preparing to make a U-turn.
As she cranked her wheel to the side, she caught a flash of white in the corner of her eye. She immediately eased the car back onto the road and leaned forward in her seat, trying to discern what she had seen. As she rounded the corner, a large green sign appeared with the letters “Entering Storybrooke” printed in white.
Okay then, maybe not, Emma deliberated. She floored the gas and followed the road ahead, and less than a few minutes later, the buildings of this so-called “Storybrooke” began to materialize.
She rolled down Main Street, her eyes taking in every pedestrian that strode by.
If I wanted to get away from the world, this definitely seems like the place to do it.
The town was rather small, and all of the buildings had a quaint, picture-esque feeling to them—almost like something out of a movie.
But there was also another feeling that the town evoked, one that Emma couldn’t quite describe. It was an underlying, twisting feeling of eeriness that crept up her spine as she continued down the road.
Let’s hope I find this guy fast, Emma shuddered, not wanting to spend a second longer in this town than she had to.
She finally parked in front of a laundromat, then took to the sidewalks to continue her search. Of course, she knew that wandering the streets aimlessly wasn’t a very effective tactic for finding people, so after a few minutes of roaming, she entered a little blue building labeled “Granny’s Diner”.
Despite the fact that the interior was lit with warm light, Emma felt an instant chill the moment she stepped through the door. A little bell in the frame had announced her entrance to the customers inside, and instantly a dozen pairs of eyes had landed on her.
Emma hesitantly scanned the room. Had she interrupted something? Maybe an event of some sort or—
“Can I get you something?”
Her attention snapped towards an older woman behind the counter. Granny, her nametag read. Emma crossed the room, feeling the weight of the stares gradually fade as she approached her.
“Hi. Uh, just a coffee please.” Granny gave her a not-so-discreet once-over before walking away to get her drink.
Emma sat on a barstool stiffly, double-checking the diner’s patrons. John Bridges was nowhere to be seen.
But that doesn’t mean that someone here might not know something.
Granny returned with the coffee and began to walk away.
“Excuse me?” Emma called out. The woman squinted at her behind her spectacles, clearly not wanting to converse. “Just a quick question for you,” Emma continued before fishing a photo out of her jean pocket. “Has this man been through here at all?”
Granny leaned in, took a good look at the photo, and there it was—just what Emma had been hoping to see.
A look of recognition.
It was only there for a second, but Emma had seen it clear as day. The woman quickly pulled back, scratching at her silver hair.
“Sorry, never seen him.” Emma frowned. The woman was obviously lying.
“Are you sure?” She nudged. Granny shot her a cold look before turning away to help another customer.
“I’m sure.”
Emma sighed and shoved the photo in her back pocket. Now what? Emma turned in her seat and glanced at the other patrons in the diner. He’s clearly been here, she told herself. I just need someone to spill the beans.
Emma stood and crossed the room, holding out her photo and showing it to each customer. As with Granny, she was met with cold, uninterested looks and mumbled apologies.
Emma sipped at the dregs of her now cold coffee, glancing at the windows. Night had fallen on the sleepy town, and here Emma was—an unwanted guest, hours from home. She debated cutting her losses and hightailing it out of there, but a nagging, persistent voice at the back of her head urged her to stay.
You’re so close, the voice implored. You’ve basically confirmed that he was here, are you really going to quit now?
And although the town was more than a little creepy and she had received nothing but dirty looks since her arrival, Emma made the executive decision to stay.
Just for the night.
---
Ironically, the only inn available in Storybrooke was also owned by Granny, which single-handedly almost changed Emma’s decision to stay right off the bat.
The older woman had looked at Emma as though she had grown five heads when she’d asked for a room. One look at the B&B’s dusty, cobweb-infested lobby made it clear that no one had come to stay for a very long time.
Still, Granny obliged her request and gave her a key, leading her down a dim hallway until she stopped in front of a door.
“Thanks,” Emma mumbled. It took all of her willpower not to gag as the musty scent of mothballs washed over her. It’s just for tonight, she told herself. I’ll get a lead on Bridges tomorrow and then I’ll never have to see this place again.
Emma tossed her keys onto the bed and flopped down beside them, arms splayed out.
The question is—where do I start? These people aren’t exactly chatty. Her eyelids began to grow heavy. I guess the police station is the most logical answer. If not, then maybe they have a park or something where—
Her eyes had shut completely when a knock at the door sounded.
She buried her face in a pillow, stifling a groan of annoyance before she peeled herself off the sheets, reluctantly shuffling to the door.
She had expected to be greeted by a crabby Granny probably with a complaint on her lips and a dirty look spread across her papery skin.
She had not expected to find herself face-to-face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
She was the epitome of elegance, the kind that Emma had seen in old Hollywood stars—the ones with soft skin and sharp jawlines, smoothly glossed lips and hair that fell in perfect waves.
This woman was all of that and more.
Her dark chocolate hair curled neatly at her collarbones, and she wore a black velvet dress with a neckline so deeply plunging that Emma caught herself staring for an embarrassingly noticeable amount of time.
Suddenly, every complaint she had been nursing from moments prior had vanished from her mind.
“Hi, uh…can I…” Emma wasn’t even sure where to begin. “…Is something wrong?” She finished hesitantly.
The woman’s cherry lips curled into a smile, and Emma could have sworn all of her insides had melted right then and there.
“On the contrary,” she began, her voice smooth as silk. “I’ve come to welcome you to our little town. I’m something like the mayor, you see, and we don’t really get a lot of outside guests.”
If Emma hadn’t been so distracted by her, well, everything, she might have questioned how someone could be “something like the mayor”. Instead, she formed a curious smile, tilting her head to the side.
“Yeah, I could kind of tell by the lobby,” she joked, immediately regretting her lame attempt at humor. Luckily, the brunette played along, offering a chuckle that sounded like a low purr. A wave of heat washed over Emma’s skin.
“I’ll have to bring it up with Granny.” She nodded towards the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”
“Of course,” Emma responded, immediately pulling the door open and stepping aside.
Looks like this town has a least one good thing going for it, she mused, watching the brunette saunter inside.
The woman sat on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs neatly and revealing the red bottoms of her stilettos.
“While the accommodations are a little…dreary,” the woman began, dark gaze sweeping the room. “I assure you Granny will help you with anything you may need.” Emma swallowed thickly, fighting off the uncharacteristic wave of nerves that had infiltrated her body.
“Right, of course. Thank you, Miss...?” The woman smiled and ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair.
“Mills,” she completed. “But please, call me Regina.”
“Regina,” Emma repeated softly, the syllables rolling over tongue. The brunette glared at her expectantly, and it took Emma a humiliatingly long moment before she realized she was waiting to hear her name.
“I’m Emma,” she sputtered quickly. “Emma Swan.” Regina’s lips returned to their friendly, mayor-like smile.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she began, clasping her hands in front of her. “As I mentioned before, Storybrooke doesn’t exactly get a lot of visitors. So, may I ask what brings you here, Ms. Swan?”
Emma fidgeted under Regina’s gaze. The woman had an intensity that she couldn’t explain, one that took the breath out of her lungs every time their eyes met. Emma nervously glanced away, pretending to smooth out the wrinkled comforter.
“Well, I work as a bail bondsperson, and I think that my client is either staying here or has passed through.” She grabbed the photo out of her pocket and handed it to Regina, watching her closely.
The brunette was much better at concealing her emotions then Granny had been, but Emma still sensed a shift in Regina’s gaze, however imperceptible. The brunette handed the photo back, her lacquered nails pinching the corner tightly.
“Never seen him. And as the mayor, I pay very close attention to everyone who comes through.” Emma nodded, shoving the photo back in her pocket.
It certainly appears so. Maybe she was overthinking it, but it seemed as though Regina’s voice had grown colder, taking on a sharper edge.
Regina stood, abruptly startling Emma from her thoughts.
“Well, Ms. Swan, I wish you the best of luck in your search. Though I must say, Storybrooke is a rather small town, so I doubt you’ll find anything worthwhile.”
She strode towards the door, leaving a trail of mouth-watering, velvety perfume in her wake. “But, if there’s anything I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask. My house is at the end of the block. You can’t miss it,” she finished, offering Emma a polished smile.
Emma returned the smile, a sinking feeling in her chest. She so desperately wanted to trust the woman, but there was something about her—something that lurked underneath her polished exterior.
And though she didn’t appreciate being lied to, Emma couldn’t help but replay every moment with the mysterious mayor fondly as she laid awake that night, savoring every smile the woman had given, every flash of coyness in her eyes.
You’ve got a job to do, Emma, she reminded herself bitterly.
But as she drifted out of consciousness hours later, the mundane matters of the criminal John Bridges never once crossed her mind.
---
Emma blinked awake the next morning in a sleepy haze of confusion. It took her a few moments to pull herself from the dregs of sleep and remember where she was.
And more importantly, what she had to do.
Emma let out an audible groan—this John Bridges was getting to be a real pain in the ass. She peeled herself from the bed and hastily made herself look presentable, tying back her blonde waves and smoothing out the creases in her leather jacket. Not that there was anyone in this town she wanted to impress, of course.
Definitely not the drop-dead gorgeous mayor that had descended into her room like a heavenly goddess.
Emma shook the memories of the woman away, knowing she wouldn’t get a lick of work done today if she didn’t.
Her first stop was at the police station, though she had made a few futile attempts to communicate with the town members along the way.
Emma couldn’t help but feel as though there was a dark shadow hanging over the citizens of Storybrooke. Whenever she approached someone, their demeanor would stiffen, and their eyes would dart to and fro with a nervous energy that Emma couldn’t understand. One particularly panicked man even flinched when Emma showed him the photo of her client.
After this series of failed attempts, Emma finally reached the police station, feeling confused but also equally determined.
Her guy had been here. She was certain of it.
Inside, she found a man sitting at a desk, tapping on the wood rhythmically with one hand while clutching a steaming cup of coffee with the other.
“Excuse me?” Emma called, somehow startling the man so intensely that he nearly dropped his cup. Jesus, Emma remarked. You would think I just held a gun to everyone’s head.
“Sorry to bother you,” Emma continued, treading carefully. “I’m looking for a man that’s supposed to show in court.” She extended the photo to him, watching his expression closely.
And there it was—that same flicker of recognition and fear that she had seen in all of them. The officer—Graham—Emma noticed, after reading his nameplate, clutched the photo tightly in his hand, not meeting her eyes.
“No one ever comes to Storybrooke,” he stated definitively, as though that were a good enough answer. But it wasn’t for Emma. She snatched the photo back, leaning against the wall and meeting the cop’s gaze sternly.
“Look,” she began. “I know he came through here. Whatever he said, whatever deal he’s made you, he’s not worth protecting. He’s just your run-of-the-mill criminal, and as a police officer, I think you’d understand my situation.” She leaned forward towards the man, close enough to where the steam of his coffee brushed against her skin.
“I’m going to ask you again. Where is he?”
Graham, to his credit, held her gaze far longer than any of the other timid citizens she had encountered on her way here. But in the end, he wound up being just as useless.
“I’m sorry,” he stated, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You should probably check the next town over.” Emma raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? And what town would that be?” Graham’s gaze flickered around the room nervously, not saying a word.
That’s what I thought.
Emma let out a frustrated sigh, swinging the station door open and letting it slam behind her.
Looks like I’m not going to be getting any help around here, she noted.
As she started down the sidewalk, her conversation with the mayor came rushing back to her mind. “My house is at the end of the block. You can’t miss it.” Emma considered this.
Though the woman had lied to her like everyone else, there was something about her that lured Emma in. Curiosity got the best of her, and before she knew it, her boots were marching her right down the block.
---
Regina hadn’t been lying about her house. In fact, Emma couldn’t believe that she had somehow missed it on her way into town.
It was a massive thing—two stories of dark plaster, with large, gaudy windows and a black shingled roof. It loomed over the street, casting a long shadow in the midday sunlight, emulating a haunting presence as though it were a person of its own.
An involuntary shiver ran up Emma’s spine, and she began having second thoughts about the whole ordeal. But eventually, she summoned up enough courage to cross the house’s manicured lawn and up the stairs to the door. She raised her hand and gave a steady knock.
Within seconds, a familiar, silky voice responded from the other side.
“It’s unlocked.”
Emma hesitantly reached for the handle and opened the door, feeling more like an intruder than a guest. She was met immediately with a wash of that dark perfume, so thick she could practically taste it on her tongue.
The interior was about what she had expected—dark wood furniture accentuated with an assortment of gothic fabrics, and large, dramatic chandeliers hung from the ceilings, holding dozens of dripping candles in their ornate silver holdings.
It was truly a spectacle, one that Emma had found herself so lost in that she had nearly forgotten about the woman standing in front of her, staring at her expectantly.
“Oh, hey,” she began quickly. “Sorry to bother you. I just had some questions that I forgot to ask yesterday.” The brunette smiled warmly.
“Follow me.”
Regina led her into what Emma could only assume was the living room, which was complete with a grand fireplace and an enormous couch, draped with lavish fur blankets and plush velvet pillows.
Emma had to make a great deal of effort not to let her jaw drop.
“Your home is really…wow,” she stated. The brunette chuckled.
“Thank you, Miss Swan. I suppose I’ve always had a taste for the finer things in life.”
“No problem. And, uh, you can just call me Emma.” The brunette smiled as she sank into the couch, draping an arm along the frame elegantly.
“Understood. So, Emma, what did you want to ask me?” Emma sat across from her in a grandiose armchair, feeling very out of place.
“Well, I guess I’d like to start with the people. Did I break some unspoken rule or something? ‘Cause ever since I arrived here everyone’s been looking at me like I killed their dog.” Regina chuckled softly, folding her hands in her lap.
“I understand it may seem that way, but I assure you that’s not the case. Like I mentioned before, we don’t really get a lot of visitors, and people might just be a little wary.”
Doesn’t seem like wariness, Emma remarked. Seems like they’ve got something to hide.
“Enough about them,” Regina continued abruptly. “I want to hear more about you.”
Though Emma still had a plethora of questions, how could she say no?
“Well,” Emma began. “You already know about my job. So, let’s see. I grew up in Minnesota. Now I’m in Boston.” She paused. “That’s about it.” Regina exhaled a soft laugh under her breath.
“Oh, don’t be so modest. I know there’s a lot more to you than that.” She shifted in her seat, eyes roaming across Emma like a flowing stream of water. “I’m sure the Emma on the inside is just as exquisite as the one on the outside.”
Emma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushing pink.
Remember why you’re here, Emma. Stop getting distracted.
“Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see my client pass through?” Emma inquired, forcing herself to change the subject. “Even for just a little while?” Regina sighed.
“I’m certain,” she confirmed, reaching forward and resting her hand on Emma’s knee in reassurance. “I truly am sorry. Maybe he went through a different town instead?” Emma swallowed, trying not to let the brush of Regina’s fingertips against her skin distract her any further.
“Maybe,” she conceded, unconvinced. She quickly drew herself to her feet, not trusting herself to stay here much longer without making a fool of herself. “Thanks anyway,” she finished lamely, ushering herself to the door. “I’ll, ah, let you know if I have any more questions,” she called out behind her.
“Please do,” the brunette purred.
It took all of Emma’s willpower not to turn around and sit herself right back in that armchair and never get back up.
---
The day faded into night, and Emma found herself, once again, lying on her rickety mattress at Granny’s. She’d been hoping to wrap up this case once and for all and be on her merry way home in time for dinner.
Clearly, that was not going to happen.
She silently cursed herself for her lack of productivity. You’ve done this a million times—why now are you getting stuck? This John Bridges guy is just like all the rest. A flash of Regina’s sharp features infiltrated her thoughts, and if she focused hard enough, she could still smell her rich perfume in the air.
Emma scrubbed her eyes profusely, forcing herself back to reality.
Tomorrow’s the day, she insisted. Tomorrow, I get a lead on Bridges and I get the hell out of here.
That’s what she repeated to herself for the next hour and a half, desperately trying to fall asleep, but failing miserably.
Emma let out a frustrated groan and snatched her phone off the nightstand. The time read 1:14 am.
Fuck this, she snapped, grabbing her jacket and shoes before heading towards the door. A few minutes later she was strolling down Main Street aimlessly, savoring the crisp night air.
She didn’t have a plan in mind; she just knew that if she were to stay in that musty room for one more minute, she would have lost it. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she meandered down the sidewalk, passing Granny’s, a dentist, and some sort of antique store. As she neared the end of the street, she made to turn around, when a sudden faint, gasping sound caught her attention.
Curiosity got the best of her, and she followed the source of the sound, which led her down an alleyway between two buildings. As she rounded the corner, the sound abruptly stopped, and so did Emma.
It took her a moment to process what she was seeing in front of her.
Two people were huddled in the dark, a male and a female. The woman was Regina, she knew right away, from that tell-tale perfume and chocolate curls. But this wasn’t the amicable, polished woman that she had seen hours before.
This was a completely different creature.
She had the man pressed up against a wall, grabbing him firmly by the jacket with one hand, while the other was pressed against his mouth, muffling his screams. Her head was angled towards his neck, and Emma watched in horror as she leaned forward and drank, swallowing deeply like he was nothing more than a glass of wine.
Beads of scarlet dribbled down the front of his shirt, slowly pooling on the pavement below him. Emma tried to form words, actions, anything—but the shock of the sight in front of her kept her cemented in place, unspeaking.
Despite this, Regina suddenly whipped around, abruptly becoming aware of Emma’s presence.
“Emma,” she purred, releasing her hold on the man. Emma flinched as he slumped to the ground with a resounding thump, staring back at her with wide, lifeless eyes. “So glad to see you,” the brunette continued, flashing a smile of teeth, showing off two sharp canines that nearly pierced her bottom lip.
Emma sucked in a breath and staggered backwards.
Okay, so I’m dreaming. I’m having a really weird dream and I need to wake the hell up right now—
“You’re not dreaming, Emma,” the brunette cut in, licking the sickly, scarlet red from her lips. She took a step closer, hands raised. “I know how this may seem—”
Oh, fuck this.
Emma took off running, not even bothering to look behind her. The wind whipped through her hair and her lungs began to ache, but she didn’t stop until she was firmly locked in her room at Granny’s. Her heart raced in her chest as she gasped mouthfuls of musty air, head spinning and hands shaking.
She couldn’t describe what she had just seen, but she knew with a bone-deep certainty that her life would never be the same because of it.