— You started it, — she said to him, slamming the rag down on his desk. — I can smell your lanolin.
Gold looked up, a careful smile on his face.
— I have been here all night, — he said. — I did no such thing. — He glanced at the rag. — I admit there’s a chemical smell. But there are a lot of chemical smells. Chemicals burn, often.
— I don’t want to win like this, — Emma said. — Is this what it means to have an alliance with you? Breaking the rules? It’s not who I am.
— Who you are, — said Gold, — is somebody who will be a real sheriff for this town, not a shill. That makes you better. — Emma had nothing to say to this, and so Gold continued: — Are you ready for the debate tomorrow?
— I haven’t thought about it.
— Sidney Glass is slippery, I’m sure he will be ready. I’d advise you to come prepared.
The picture of Emma carrying Regina from the burning building was on the cover of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror the next morning, and all day, the town was abuzz with the news. Emma didn’t mind the positivity and the confidence, but Gold’s role in the whole thing gnawed at her all day, even as her friends — Ruby, Granny, Mary Margaret, Henry, Archie, and others — went about the business of last-minute slumping Emma reconnected with Mary Margaret about thirty minutes before the debate, and the two of them walked to the library together.
— You’re going to win, — Mary Margaret said. — I can feel it. And with the picture?
It was one positive comment too many, and Emma broke down and told Mary Margaret her suspicions about Gold’s participation in the fire. Mary Margaret listened to the story, then was quiet for a long moment. As they approached the library, they joined together with the assembling crowds. It seemed as though all of Storybrooke was there to hear the debate.
— What kind of message would it send to Henry? — Emma said, the two of them climbing the stairs. — To win like that?
— Would he ever know?
— But that would mean lying to him, — Emma said.
— But telling the truth might lead to you losing.
— I guess that’s just a risk I’ll have to take.
Mary Margaret nodded at this.
— There it is, then, — she said.
— There it is.
When it came time for Emma to speak, she still wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Sidney had given boilerplate answers and taken the safe route with all of Archie’s questions. The audience seemed to respond positively. Based only on the energy of the applause, Emma knew, as she walked out onto the stage, that she could ride the «hero» wave all the way to the win.
But it didn’t take much time out in front of the audience — the entire town, really — before she heard Mary Margaret’s simple words: There it is. Sometimes things weren’t all that complicated. We just make them complicated in order to hide from them.
— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, — Emma said, partway through an answer she was giving about her thoughts on the local noise ordinance. She looked down at the first row and saw Henry, bright-eyed, smiling up at her. — I have to back up. I have to say something about the recent fire.
The crowd went still. Emma didn’t know if she was about to make a big mistake, but she knew she had to do it.
— Mr. Gold started that fire, — she said, and the gasps were audible. — And he started that fire, — she continued, — because he was trying to help me win this election. Make me into a hero. — She took a breath, waited for the whispers and shocked chatter to quiet. — I know, I know, — she said. — And I’m sorry. — She looked at Regina, who sat beside Henry, arms crossed, a mixture of surprise and smug satisfaction on her face. — Regina, — Emma said, — I didn't know about it, but I can’t condone it, and I can’t benefit from it. You could have been hurt. What’s most important is to tell the truth about what happened.
She could see, at the back of the room, Mr. Gold stand, an impassive look on his face. He turned and walked toward the exit.
— This will probably cost me the election, — Emma said. — But I don’t want to win with a lie.
Afterward, Emma and Henry went to Granny’s Diner. Sweets for Henry. A stiff drink for Emma. She hadn’t felt this low in some time.
Henry seemed okay with the outcome. After taking his last bite of pie, he wiped his mouth, reached into his backpack, and pulled out Graham’s old walkie-talkies. He gave one to her.
— What’s this for? — Emma said.
— I thought about it some more, — Henry said. — I think Operation Cobra should be back on. You stood up to Mr. Gold. You’re a hero.
— You think? — Whatever the outcome, she was glad to hear him say it
— I told you that he turned bad after he got his powers, — Henry said. — And after that, the one person he loved was afraid of him. So what if that same thing had happened to you?
— What do you mean?
— What if you got your power by being bad, like he did? That would mean that whatever you did, it would always be scary. Maybe you would win, but we would all start to be afraid of you.
— So you’re revising your ideas about good and evil, then?
— A little bit, — Henry said, smiling. — I guess I didn’t know you could win in the right way. Lots of these stories don’t have examples of that.
— Aw. You’re melting my heart, kid.
— I would rather be good like you and lose, titan be bad and win.
It was the first time Emma had felt good about anything in days.
The good feeling was ruined a few moments later when Emma looked up and saw Regina at the door, Sidney following close behind. Here they come to gloat, she thought. Just what I need.
— Victory party is in back, — she said.
Sidney didn’t respond; he didn’t look particularly joyful.
Emma looked to Regina.
— Congratulations, — Regina said flatly.
— What are you talking about? — Henry said.
— It was a close vote, but people seem to have responded to a candidate who can stand up to Mr. Gold. — She shook her head. — Imagine that.
— You’re kidding me.
— She doesn’t kid, — said Sidney, sitting down beside Emma and Henry.
— You didn’t pick a very good friend in Mr. Gold, Ms. Swan. But he does make a superlative enemy. Enjoy that.
Emma couldn’t help but smile just a little.
She was sheriff.
Sheriff of Storybrooke, Maine.
Everyone who helped out with her brief campaign began to trickle in to celebrate, all of them telling Emma that she’d done the right thing. As Emma smiled and accepted their congratulations, she couldn’t help but think: I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. She was glad her son knew that, too.
Mr. Gold was already at the station waiting for Emma when she arrived. She had walked over from Granny’s, a little tipsy, intent on taking care of some paperwork before the start of her first official day. When she arrived, she saw it right away: Graham’s leather jacket, hanging on the hook beside his desk.
— I thought you might want it after all, — came a voice, and Emma jumped. Her hand went to her sidearm and she almost drew the weapon.