A/N: This fic is for sunofthemoon. Thank you for cheering me on, helping me make sense of my thoughts, letting me pick your brain, and for being awesome.

MY SAFEST PLACE

CHAPTER ONE

The cold was getting to her.

It was just after 1 p.m. on a Tuesday, and the snow was falling around the city in big individual flakes as 18-year-old Emma Swan made her way towards the corner store from the motel she was currently squatting in. She brushed pass endless people on the busy street as she huddled her thin jacket closer around herself. There was a hole in her ratty boot, cold slush seeping through to her socks, and Emma lifted her hands to blow on them. Her fingers were peeking through; they were worn thin with age, and as Emma blew, her glasses fogged slightly and she blinked to see.

She ducked into the shop; the neon lights bright, and the heat from the store inviting her inside, a temporary reprieve from the cold. She glanced briefly around, scanning the place for customers. There were only two; a customer by the counter and someone browsing magazines. Emma turned down the first aisle, grabbing a bag of chips as she eyed the clerk, who was paying her no mind at all. She stuffed it into her jacket and made her way towards the foiled sandwiches as the door jingled behind her.

Emma could see the aisle with the product she actually needed; white and pink packages neatly stacked and stored, promising happiness and joy. She dashed down another aisle, snatching a sandwich for the insatiable hunger in her stomach, and stuffing it next to the bag of chips on her stomach. Her last dollars were going to be spent actually paying for the item she was in need of, but she kind of had to eat, too.

She stalled by the magazines, the former customer now at the counter, and Emma glanced up to see if she was now almost alone. Another customer was lingering by the sandwiches where Emma had just been; red hair and tense shoulders, and Emma caught her eyes above the shelves for a moment. The woman quickly averted her gaze, and Emma ducked too, heading towards the aisle with hygiene products.

Staring at the different brands and packages, Emma felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes, because she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for, how she was supposed to choose which one to buy. Her fingers trailed the packages, and she glanced up, seeing the clerk at the counter watching her curiously. She paused; the other customers had left the small shop, and so Emma snatched a random package that read 99% accuracy. Get your answer within five minutes! That had to do.

Emma trailed to the counter, aware of the fact that her jacket was bulging in awkward places; she trailed a hand across herself, hugging her upper body and placed the package on the counter with a sheepish smile as she refused to meet the clerk's eyes.

"Congratulations," he said, as he scanned the item and the price appeared, "...or not," he added with a frown, when he saw Emma's tense shoulders. "That'll be $9,99."

With her heart in her throat, Emma handed her last bill over, reluctant to let go of the material. She didn't have the option not to, though, she – she had to know. She had to be sure. "Thank you," she breathed as she was handed over the plastic bag and a penny. Her last penny, and then what?

"Have a good day," the clerk said, and Emma turned and rushed out of the store, feeling his judgmental eyes on her neck, as she stuffed the coin into the pocket of her jeans and held on tightly to her bag.

She bumped shoulders with a woman by the entrance, murmured a soft apology, and tucked the bag of chips out of her jacket. The sandwich joined her purchase in the plastic bag, and Emma opened the bag of chips and took out a handful with cold fingers, as she made her way back to the motel. The street was busy; people going to and fro, and Emma zigzagged around them, eager to get back into the warmth of the room. She munched on salted chips and ducked into an alley, making a shortcut, away from the busier streets. It was seriously so fucking cold, and Emma blew on her fingers once more as she sped up her walk.

The plastic bag in her left hand crinkled, reminding her why she had dared venture outside to brave the cold in the first place. That, and the sandwich and bag of chips she'd nicked from the store, of course. The chips were already calming her unsettled stomach, thus calming her.

She knew it wasn't a particular good idea to go snatching things at the moment, but no one wanted to hire an 18-year-old without a high school diploma, and she'd had to leave all her things behind back in November when she fled Oregon. Her stomach had been begging for food, and Emma pressed a hand to it as she munched on another handful of chips, wondering if she was soon going to have another thing entirely to worry about; another problem than just getting shelter and food. She was no longer able to ignore the fact that she hadn't had her period for several months, and the pregnancy test in the bag was only to confirm what she already, kind of, knew.

At least she thought she knew, but she had to be sure.

Emma crossed the road and took a short-cut down another alley before she finally came to the fire escape she'd used to get out of the room she was currently occupying. She'd left a piece of crumbled up newspaper in the window frame, hoping that she'd still be able to get in once she returned, and she pulled herself up by her arms and managed to get safely onto the fire escape. She crawled the two stories, happy to see that the room was still accessible to her; snapping the window open, she slid into the tiny room and closed it safely behind her, leaving out the cold.

Shedding her beanie, gloves and jacket, Emma took off the foil on her sandwich and made her way to the small, dingy bathroom as she took a bite. She didn't have the patience to wait, so she placed the sandwich on the counter and sat on the toilet as she ripped the stick out of its package. Aiming below the clit – just as she'd always heard you were supposed to do – she did her business. She wiped, placed the stick on the counter and washed her hands, before picking up her sandwich again. Five minutes, she thought, I can wait five minutes. She glanced down at the watch on her wrist – the fanciest thing she owned – and mentally took the time.

Emma fell onto the ratty, old bed with a sigh as she ate her sandwich, once more cradling her slightly protruding belly with her free hand. She was going to know for sure in five minutes, but that didn't change the fact that if- Emma bit her lip in desperation, not wanting to finish the thought. What the fuck was she going to do?

Scarfing down the last of the sandwich, Emma glanced down at the watch on her wrist again – how had it only been one minute? – and couldn't help but think of Neal, who'd given it to her. A single part of his big theft, the reason she was even in this mess to begin with. She was never going to know for sure if he'd set her up on purpose, and it didn't really matter. Even if he hadn't, the dream of the future they'd shared together was long gone, and Emma was pretty sure that she was never going to find her Tallahassee.

"Stupid Neal," she grumbled as she stared back down at the watch. It had all seemed so easy when he'd laid the plan out for her. He couldn't fetch the watches, because there was a warrant out for his arrest, so of course she could do it. A piece of cake, and they'd had their future right in front of them. They could take the Bug and go wherever. But as soon as Emma had stood by those luggage rooms at the station, she'd felt that something wasn't quite as it was supposed to be.

There was a knock on the door, and Emma froze, staring at it. No one was supposed to know that she was here; this room was supposed to be empty, so it couldn't be the staff, they wouldn't know. She bit her lip. Her flight instinct was overwhelming her, and the need to jump back out of that window was big, but she wouldn't find a room like this again, so easily accessible, and she'd once more be back on the street, and she just got this, so how could she-

There was another knock on the door. And then, "Uh? Excuse me? I heard you move around earlier, and I was wondering if you also didn't have water in your room, or if it's just me?"

Emma sighed, shoulders sagging slightly with relief as she crossed the floor and pulled the door open. A redheaded woman stood on the other side, fist raised to knock once more. "Hi?" Emma said, puffing out her cheeks and awkwardly pushing back her glasses.

The woman smiled. "Hi, I have the room next to yours, and I'm out of water. Do you have water?"

With a furrowed brow, Emma stepped towards the small sink in the kitchenette, flipping on the tap to test it out. Water poured out of it immediately, and she turned around to find the woman looking around the room curiously. "Water's good here. Must just be your room."

"How odd," the woman said and stuck out her hand, "I'm Cleo by the way, I'll be staying next door for a bit."

"Emma," Emma curtly said, but she didn't stick her own hand out to meet Cleo's. She regarded the woman instead, eyes trailing over her black leather jacket, her blue jeans and her laced-up boots. Emma couldn't really explain why, but a nervousness was suddenly creeping up her spine. Had she seen this woman before? "You better go talk to the reception then," she offered next, wanting desperately to get this woman out of her not exactly legally rented motel room.

Cleo looked around the room, her jaw suddenly tense. She glanced back at Emma. "You're Emma Swan, right?"

Emma squeaked, "What?"

"There's a warrant out for your arrest, and I'm here to bring you back to the Oregon Police," Cleo explained as she stepped closer, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from her jacket. She almost looked apologetic, but Emma did not have the time to contemplate that.

Instead, she pushed a chair into Cleo's path and stormed towards the bathroom, smacking the door close behind her and flicking the lock. "Fuck off!" she yelled through the door, watching as the handle was jiggling up and down, no doubt under attack by Cleo who wanted nothing more than to get inside.

Emma bit her lip, sagging slightly as she took a moment to breathe on the closed lid of the toilet. She could go with her. She could go willingly, spend some time in jail and come out on the other side. But if she thought life was hard now, what wasn't it going to be like as a convicted felon? She'd never be able to get a job if she spent time in prison, this she was sure of.

"Emma, c'mon, don't make this harder on yourself," Cleo warned her through the door. There was already some kind of tool working at the crack in the old door, and Emma had to make a decision.

"Idiot," she hissed beneath her breath as she turned on the tap, water blasting everywhere. She crawled onto the toilet and quickly – silent with skill – worked the old window open. It was big enough to fit her, and she'd land right outside on the fire escape. Hauling herself through the small square as she pressed a foot to the top of the toilet and twisted to get out with her feet first, Emma cast a glance down at the stick on the sink.

As she fell onto the fire escape with a loud clash and took off running, the word pregnant flashed across her eyes along with the two, positive, blue lines.

—

Emma gnawed at her lip as she mingled with all of the people in front of the New York Public Library. She was freezing her ass off – even though her jacket wasn't much, she was still sorry she left it back at the motel – and she shuddered in her thin sweater, walking around in circles between the fountain and the big lions by the entrance.

It was always better to hide in plain sight, which was why she was here, at one of the busiest places she'd been able to think of as she took off from Cleo. She was pretty sure that the other woman was right on her trail, because she'd been skilled enough to find her at the motel after the store, so Emma glanced carefully around and tried not to look too out of place between the field trips, students, and busy New Yorkers making their way across the square. Kids were running amok, playing in the fallen snow, and Emma blew on her hands and made her way towards the fountain. She needed to sit for a second – just a little while – as she figured out where to go next.

Perhaps she should try another city? But New York had more possibilities, and it was a bigger place to stay in the shadows, and she'd quite liked it here until now, had made it so far. But where could she go? She was pretty sure that she'd be found out if she went to one of the many shelters in the city, and she was legally an adult, she couldn't just … wander around forever.

Especially not now, Emma thought as she placed a hand on her tummy again. She had a baby growing inside of her, and if her quick math was correct, she should be between two or three months along. She hadn't been with anyone since Neal, and their relationship ended in December. What was she going to do? How could she – Emma Swan – take care of a baby when her life was such an entire mess?

This life wasn't fit for a baby – heck, it wasn't even really fit for her. She couldn't in good conscience bring a child into the world like this, not with a life on the run, or a life with a young mother who had no means of providing anything for them.

Frustrated tears welled up in her eyes, and Emma bent her head, shielding herself from questioning looks as she stared down at the greyish snow on the ground, stomped flat and dirty by thousands of feet throughout the day. It was getting darker already, and she really had to figure out somewhere to sleep for the night, but the tears were just trailing down her cheeks, wetting her glasses and making her skin even colder.

Emma thought of her own childhood; a childhood shuffled from one foster family to another, from one group home to the next, never knowing love, never knowing care, and she didn't want that for her baby. She didn't want the baby to grow up knowing that she didn't want it, because damn – if she didn't want it. It was her baby, her kid. Someone who'd love her, even if she was a fuck-up whose own parents didn't even want her. She'd do right by the kid, at least that's what she wanted.

But how was she going to? She needed somewhere to settle down, somewhere where she could have her baby, make a life for herself, let the baby feel loved and cared for and safe. Safety. That was what she needed. For her baby, and for herself.

Wiping her tears with a finger underneath her glasses, Emma stared around, noticing the groups of children gathered around the fountain. They were all whispering together, pointing fingers, throwing in coins and making wishes, and Emma smiled to herself, imagining if her kid was ever going to be in a position where wishing on a fountain was even possible.

She dropped her hand to the pocket of her jeans, remembering the sole coin she had left after her trip to the shop earlier today. It was her last coin – a coin that would probably be better spent on food or something, but it was also just a coin.

Emma retrieved the coin and stared down at it with a wistful smile on her face and desperation growing in her heart. All those kids making wishing made her want to believe in a better future, a future where anything was possible for her and the kid, where happiness and security were not just terms out of reach for people like them. She wanted to believe in a good future; that it could happen, even to people like her, like her kid. That she'd be able to find her Tallahassee with this kid; somewhere warm and comfortable, somewhere safe.

It was almost like the water shimmered slightly as she glanced at it, still shuddering in her old sweater. She palmed the coin, felt the weight in her hand and glanced once more at the group of middle schoolers, making wishes next to her. She bit her lip.

"Why the heck not," she whispered to herself, and she flicked the coin into the fountain with her thumb, one thought only on her mind: I wish for us to be safe.

It was like the water shimmered once more, growing darker as the coins shone through, and as Emma leaned forward to watch the coin fall to the bottom, a girl from the group of middle schoolers rushed off, bumping into her as she did. There wasn't even a splash or anything, but as the girl turned around to shoot off an I'm sorry, Miss! there was no one by the fountain at all.

Emma Swan was somewhere else entirely.

A/N: Thank you for reading this first chapter, and I hope you're onboard! I promise, I have planned quite a ride. I plan on updating every Friday, so please be on the look-out for that. My twitter is stessafanfic, and I post there regularly about writing, awesome fics and Swanqueen in general.