Summary: When the Daily Star prints a false story about wealthy heiress Emma Swan, accusing her of stealing another woman's girlfriend, the Star's managing editor Helena Wells drops everything, including a Valentine's Day date with her girlfriend Myka. When Emma sues the paper for libel and demands an ungodly sum of money, Helena brings in Regina Mills, a former Star reporter and libel suit specialist. Together, they hatch a plan to get Emma to drop the libel suit: Regina acquires a fake wife and goes after Emma to make her look like the homewrecker the Star called her. What could possibly go wrong?

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters, and this time I don't even own most of the plot. This is a writing exercise – a variation on a theme, if you will. The original movie was written by Maurine Dallas Watkins, Howard Emmett Rogers, and George Oppenheimer, based on a story by Wallace Sullivan. I bow to those four.

A/N: This is completely AU: my Swan Queen / Bering & Wells take on my favorite movie, Libeled Lady (1936). I'm going to stay pretty close to the movie plot but of course there will be changes as I adapt it to my OTPs and our world (but I'll admit it'll still be an old-fashioned modern world). There's no magic, no artifacts, just four women in a screwball comedy that might or might not translate to the written word. I just felt the need for something lighthearted after all the angst and pain that both fandoms have to endure through the shows. Plus, this was mainly an exercise to get over my writer's block. It worked.

A/N 2: This chapter is predominantly Bering & Wells, but Regina and Emma will show up very soon. :)

Helena Wells was smiling at her reflection in the mirror as she was getting ready for her date with Myka Bering. Dapper. Well, she does love me in suits. It was Valentine's Day, and she had something special planned for her girlfriend.

She scowled when her phone rang. "Wells."

"You gotta come in straight away, boss," her second-in-command yelled.

"Calm down, Pete," she said as she touched up her lipstick. Myka's going to like that color, she thought. And she was hopefully going to enjoy seeing it all over Myka's body later. "What's going on?"

"We ran a story," he began. "A scoop about Emma Swan … that turned out to be wrong."

At the name, dread spread like tendrils through Helena's stomach. "What did the story say?"

Pete hesitated for a moment. "Well, somebody called it in from London and it sounded interesting enough, so Steve put it up. He must have been distracted or something …"

Helena growled. "What did we say about Swan?"

"We basically called her a lesbian homewrecker, boss," Pete admitted. "The story is about how she was seen in a London gay club, dancing intimately with somebody else's girlfriend and kissing her outside. Then it says she got into a fight with the woman's girlfriend."

"Were there pictures to corroborate the story at least?"

"Yes, there are pictures, but …"

"What's the problem then? If she can't keep her own secrets, it's not our fault—"

"Boss," Pete interrupted. "The photos were not taken at a gay club. They were taken at a fancy restaurant …"

"Okay, that's not ideal, but maybe we can work around—"

"… and the person she was kissing turned out to be a dude with a ponytail. Plus, the kiss looks more like a friendly peck than anything else. And there was no fight."

"Why the hell would Steve even touch that story?" Helena closed her eyes with a sigh. "Please tell me you already took it off the website."

"As soon as I saw the photos, yes," Pete said, "but unfortunately the print edition was running a bit empty tonight, so it ended up in there as well."

"Of course," Helena muttered sarcastically. "Buried somewhere in the middle, in a tiny column towards the end, I hope?"

"Front page header, with a huge photo of Swan." Pete sounded like he was speaking at a funeral, and he might as well have been.

"I'm coming in," Helena said. "Stop the press, stop all deliveries, call any trucks that have already gone out, call the shops on that delivery route and tell them not to sell any papers. Tell them we have a more important lead story! We need to get every single one of the papers back! And you better start praying none of her people have seen it yet! I'll be there in twenty."

o o o

Seventeen minutes and thirty-three seconds later Helena Wells stormed into the bullpen at the Daily Star. "What the hell is wrong with you all? I take one afternoon off and you try to kill the paper?"

Steve looked at her like a kicked puppy. "Let me explain-"

Helena continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I know you're still new in this business, but I thought your nose was better than that. Where was your nose, Jinks?"

"My n-nose?"

"Your nose, Steve," Helena repeated, pacing around the desks scattered in the bullpen. "This story reeks of alcohol, and quite a lot of it, too."

Steve looked at Pete, his face slightly confused.

"Whoever called it in was drunk or high ..." Pete muttered to Steve, but Helena heard him.

"Or called us with a fake story on purpose," Helena continued, still pacing. "Why didn't you double-check that story before putting it up and printing it on the front page of the evening edition?" Her voice got progressively louder as she stopped in front of Steve and stared at him.

Steve blushed. "Time was ru-running out and we didn't have anything exciting for the front page," he explained. "And I thought it would be nice since the boss hates Swan's father so much."

"Yes, and her father hates us!" Helena exploded. "If he could, he'd blow us up, and you hand him dynamite." Helena ran her hands through her hair, messing it up and leaving her looking gorgeously rumpled. "The one woman that we should handle with kid gloves," she muttered, "and you spread her name all over the front page!"

A young woman with red hair, liberally streaked with blue strands, stormed into the bullpen, interrupting Helena mid-rant. Helena whirled around "What?"

The girl jumped back at the tone. "Eek!"

"Sorry, Claudia," Helena said through gritted teeth, not having the patience or the inclination to be overly friendly at this point. She was missing dinner with Myka for this clusterfuck. Oh God, Myka! I didn't even call her to tell her that something had come up! Oh, hell! She took a deep breath and focused on Claudia. "What's up?"

Claudia swallowed. "What do we use for a headline?"

"Headline?"

"Yeah, to replace the one that just got kicked. We need to print something."

"I don't care," Helena replied distractedly, her focus already pulled back to the much bigger problem at hand. "War threatens the Middle East!"

Claudia nodded. "Which country?"

"I repeat: I don't care." Helena glared at Claudia, but then smiled slightly to make the young woman feel better. She did like the smart redhead a lot. "Flip a coin," she added in a softer tone. "In that part of the world, you won't be wrong."

Claudia nodded again. "Okay, boss." She turned to go, but stopped and turned around. "Oh, and the big kahuna is here. She wants you right away."

"Does she want me or my job?" Helena sighed, and Pete slapped her on the shoulder in silent commiseration as Claudia shrugged and left. "I need a drink."

"There's a fresh bottle in your bottom drawer," Pete said as he gently pushed her towards her small office. "Figured you might need it today."

Helena sent him a grateful smile as she settled behind her desk and pulled out the bottle of whisky from the drawer. She poured herself a generous helping and took a sip, shaking her head at the mess her people had made. "Jesus Fucking Christ," she muttered. Well, time to call Myka and grovel.

She had just started dialing her lover's number when her door was opened forcefully. "Why am I not surprised to find you here at your desk, drink in hand?" the newcomer asked acerbically.

Helena looked up in shock. "What are you doing here, Myka?" She stood and walked around her desk. "It's good to see you." She cringed knowing full well that Myka was pissed at her, and that she deserved it.

"What am I doing here?" Myka asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"We're having a crisis and I needed-"

"You needed to be at Fontanello's 30 minutes ago, Helena Wells," Myka interrupted angrily. "You invited me, remember? You insisted on a fancy date, remember? So why am I standing here in your office looking-"

"Looking like a million dollars, darling." And Myka did, Helena thought and sent another curse in the direction of her incompetent staff. "You look absolutely ravishing, darling, and believe me I'd much rather be having dinner with you than take care of other people's mess." She said the last bit loud enough for Pete and Steve to cringe visibly. "I'm so sorry I didn't even have time to call you," she continued much more quietly. "Wait, how did you know where I was anyway?"

Myka snorted. "How long have we known each other? You practically live here. There was ever only one place I'd find you." She paused. "Besides, Pete called me."

Of course. Helena glared at Pete who had the decency to shrug apologetically.

Myka's face got serious. "You can't keep doing this to me."

"What are you saying, darling?"

"Don't darling me, H.G.," Myka growled. "We've been dating for two years and the paper always comes first. We plan a trip to Colorado so you can meet my parents, there's a fire somewhere. We plan a weekend away, there's a kidnapping that absolutely can't take place without you manning your desk. So, what's it this time? A cat caught in a tree? A runaway dog? Some celeb getting a nose job?"

Helena raised her hands in surrender, surprised by the resignation in Myka's voice. "It's really serious this time, Myka," she tried to explain. "The paper made a terrible mistake while I was gone to get ready for our date." She pointed towards her own body, drawing attention to the fine dark suit she was wearing especially for Myka. "I wanted tonight to be special, but Pete and Steve had to call me in."

"Helena, I don't need special," Myka said quietly. "We could have a sandwich in the cafeteria downstairs, for all I care." She sighed. "I just need to know I rank somewhere on your list of priorities."

Helena tried to hug Myka but was pushed away. "I'm sorry, Myka. I assure you that you rank very highly on my list of priorities."

"Okay then. Come have dinner with me. Now."

"I'd love to, darling, but I don't have the ti-"

"It's not a trip to Paris, H.G., it's a 15-minute dinner in the cafeteria."

"Myka ... please understand. I can't," Helena pleaded. "The paper is facing a libel suit and that's some serious trouble. It could cost us the paper."

"Well, you're facing some serious trouble in your personal life, too," Myka said dejectedly. "Seriously, H.G., if you don't want to be with me, just say so, okay?"

Helena winced at the repeated use of her initials. Myka only called her that when she was particularly mad. "I love you, Myka, and I want to be with you," Helena promised, trying to placate her irate lover, as her hand unconsciously wandered into her pants pocket and curled around the box in there. Now was so not the time or place for this, but she also didn't want to lose Myka over a missed dinner. She took one more look at Myka's thunderous expression and made up her mind.

She pulled out the box, which was still mostly hidden in her hand. "In fact, the reason why I made reservations at Fontanello's tonight was because I wanted to ask you something ... something very important." She dropped to one knee in front of Myka and held out the box, ignoring the stares she could feel through her office windows from everyone in the bullpen. "I wanted to ask you for your hand in marriage, Myka." She swallowed. "Will you marry me?"

Myka stared at the little blue velvet box. "Are you serious right now?" she asked. Then she snorted. "Of course you are. You blow me off time and time again, then you stand me up on Valentine's Day, and now you're telling me you want to marry me?"

Helena had a sinking feeling in her stomach. This was not going well, but then again she had no right to expect it would. "I am." She tried to keep her voice steady. "Myka, I know you think I'm already married to my work and I know I don't deserve you, but I love you and you make me happy, and I'd like the chance to make you happy, too."

"You're not off to a promising start, H.G." Myka watched her lover squirm in front of her for a few more moments before she relented somewhat. "Are you willing to rethink your priorities?"

Helena nodded eagerly, trying to ignore the ache that was starting to settle into her knee. "As soon as this crisis is averted, I'll take you on a long vacation. Just the two of us, somewhere warm and tropical where clothing is optional."

"Are you going to come downstairs with me now and eat something?"

Helena sneaked a look at the big wall clock in the bullpen. Maybe she could spare a few minutes. "Yes."

Myka thought for a few moments, but the fact was that she loved Helena and probably always would. At least the Helena that she could be when she wasn't entirely focused on working. And admittedly, her own career sometimes got in the way as well when a case kept her at work far longer than planned. She probably had canceled dinner plans just as often as Helena had, if she had to be honest. She sighed. "In that case, I guess I'll m-"

She was interrupted by an imposing woman who suddenly showed up behind her in the doorway. "Didn't they tell you I wanted to see you?" the older woman asked imperiously, completely ignoring Myka.

Helena jumped up, wincing slightly at her aching knee. "Mrs. Frederic," she greeted the newcomer.

"What is this, Ms. Wells?" Mrs. Frederic asked. "Do I own a paper or a dating service?"

"Mrs. Frederic," Helena introduced. "My future wife, Myka Bering."

Myka managed to simultaneously snort at her girlfriend and nod politely at Mrs. Frederic. Well, that explains some things, she thought, looking at the older woman. I'd probably do her bidding, too, if she looked at me like that. She shivered a little and wondered if somebody had suddenly cranked up the air-condition in the building.

Mrs. Frederic looked between Helena and Myka in their evening finery. "Nonsense," she dismissed them. "I'll be in my office. You have two minutes to get rid of her."

Myka whirled on her heels, fury written all over her, but Mrs. Frederic was already gone. Helena wrapped an arm around her girlfriend from behind. "Easy, Myka," she tried to placate her. "That's the owner of the paper."

"I don't care who she is," Myka replied, fuming. "Nobody just dismisses me like that."

"Mrs. Frederic is ... unique," Helena whispered. "She lives and breathes this paper, it's all she cares about. Ignore her, please."

"This explains so much," Myka muttered.

"What do you mean?"

Myka shook her head. "Never mind."

Helena turned Myka around so they faced each other. "I really need to go talk to her now," she said. Myka could hear in her tone that she really didn't want to, which was why she was almost ready to forgive her. "Will you wear my ring?" Helena asked, looking up at Myka with a small smile. She opened the box and took out the platinum band.

Myka gasped at the ring. "It's beautiful," she breathed. Helena took her hand and slowly pushed the ring on Myka's finger. "It's gorgeous, Helena," she repeated.

Helena breathed a slow sigh of relief. "It's not even a tenth as gorgeous as you are, darling," she muttered around the lump in her throat. "I love you." She pulled Myka closer and pressed her lips softly against Myka's. "So much." She rested her forehead against her lover's.

"I love you, too," Myka sighed. "But things need to change, okay? From both of us."

Helena nodded against Myka's forehead. "I promise."

"I believe you," Myka said and kissed Helena again. "Now go see that dragon. Call me when you can."