Her smiles came easier, as did her laughter. That was the first thing that people who had known her beforehand noticed. There were still the bitingly sarcastic remarks and the eye rolls when someone annoyed her. But they were usually punctuated with a forgiving grin or even sometimes a giggle.
That wasn't to say that anyone ever mistook Emma Swan for an optimist. She was far from that, as even her family had to admit. Dark clouds still floated over her and she struggled some days to understand how exactly she deserved even a modicum of the happiness she was now experiencing. There were days when she was sure that it would all come tumbling down if she even breathed in the wrong way, but those days were coming less often now.
Her son, Henry, climbed up onto one of the stools at Granny's and ordered their usual after school snack of grilled cheese and a cup of soup. It had become habit for him to meet her there, allowing them both a moment to decompress before the evening's activities of homework, readying for the next day, and family obligations overtook them. She slid next to him and nodded affirmatively at his selections.
"School going okay?" she asked, breaking a part the sandwich and dipping a corner into the soup. "Nothing that I need to be alerted to right now, right?"
"A's mostly," he mumbled through the sticky cheese. "B in math and geography, but I can…"
She cocked her eyebrow at him. "I'm guessing a D in table manners," she said. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
He swallowed hard and took a sip of the sugary soda. "Sorry," he said, and then repeated the list of grades with a promise that the B's would be pulled up by the next report card. His eyes narrowed at the light way she nibbled, a move unlike one he had seen from her. "You already had lunch?"
She stopped. "You need a hobby," she muttered. "I think letting you hang out at the sheriff's office is turning you into a suspicious little…"
"Killian, right?"
Another smile, followed by an apologetic one. "He brought me lunch today," she explained. "I ate with him, but I didn't explain that I was also eating with you. God knows I'll end up fat if I keep trying to pull this off."
"We don't have to eat together," he said, reminding her that they had this conversation just a few days earlier. "It's not a thing."
"It is a thing," she argued. "We have lunch together every day after school, no matter what. If you think that I'm going to skip it so I can save a few calories, you're mistaken."
He brushed a few dark strands of hair out of his eyes and smiled back. While most teenagers were mortified to have one on one time with their mother in public, he still enjoyed that time of the day. A few years ago he had a lonely existence as the adopted son of the city's mayor. Now he had his adopted mother, his birth mom, a set of grandparents, and his biological grandfather all clamoring to spend time with him.
"How was work?"
"The normal," she said with a laugh at calling anything in their town normal. "A drunk dwarf, a lost fairy, and a missing book from the library were the highlights today. Oh, and Pongo got loose and turned over half the garbage cans downtown again."
His plate was practically empty when he spun on his stool and leaned a head on his hand. "So when were you planning to tell me?"
She looked shocked. "Tell you what?"
A forced laugh escaped his throat.
"Seriously," she said. "Tell you what?"
Henry took his finger and pointed at a newspaper folded on the counter. Headlines indicated that someone had broken into three houses recently and at least four people were missing. "You suspect my grandfather, don't you?"
She sighed and placed her hands on the edge of the counter. "That's the easy assumption. Lots of people have suggested that Gold could have something to do with this, but there isn't any evidence of that."
"Of course there isn't," Henry said. "I just don't think that he did anything. He's changed. I mean really changed this time."
Emma wasn't altogether sure that she believed such change was possible. Sure someone could become a better person. But a complete 180 when someone had been as devious and evil as Gold had been seemed unlikely. She wished she had her son's optimism. "Like I said," she explained. "I don't see any evidence at this point that would say otherwise. I'm looking into it."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but she saw the shadow cross his face as the familiar lilt of an accent greeted them both. Henry turned on the stool and gave a short wave to Killian, who stood next to Emma with his hand on her shoulder. "I should go," he said more to the plate than to his mother. "My mom said she wanted to talk to me about maybe going out for soccer or something."
Emma nodded again, having already had the conversation with Regina about Henry's lack of afterschool activities. He was working Gold's shop and spent hours on homework each night, but beyond that he did precious little with his free time. Most of it was spent in the company of other adults, which made both mother's worry about his lack of age appropriate friends and social activities. "Might be fun," she added hopefully. "Or maybe a club or something?"
He rolled his eyes and pushed the hair back out of his face. "I'd rather not."
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, kissed Emma's cheek, shot another wave at Killian, and was out the door in a hurry. She watched him go and sighed again as she reached up to squeeze Killian's hand.
"He looks like you when he does that," Killian said with a laugh. "The eye roll thing is you, love."
Emma couldn't help but agree. Henry may not have been with her that long, but there were aspects of his personality that were frighteningly familiar. There was the way he tilted his head like his father. There was the exaggerated shoulder slump when he dreaded something. They were all just small things, but they all made her smile in recognition of the connection. He had picked up on some of Regina's mannerisms too, but it was the little ones that reminded her of herself that stood out.
She stayed longer than she meant, but that was the way things had gone lately. If she and Killian crossed paths, she was finding more and more excuses to stay with him rather than return to work or even home. So she wasn't shocked when she returned to the station to find her father, David Nolan, packing his things up for the evening. Ducking her head apologetically, she slid into her chair and booted up the computer. "Sorry," she muttered.
David cracked a grin and dropped a file on her desk. "No apologies and no details," he said to her. "I'm headed out, but there is the file I've been reading. Not sure what to make of it."
Emma nodded slowly and lifted the file up between her fingers. Her father had already told her that he had no real issue with her dating, but that it was more of a don't ask don't tell situation. He did not want to imagine the actual thoughts going through his daughter's mind when she smiled or why Killian could make her blush with what appeared to be a simple smile or a hello. Happiness was one thing, but the mechanics of it were far beyond whatever he wanted to know about her.
"I'm going to turn the calls over about 10 and maybe try to catch a few hours of sleep," she told him. "Should be a slow night."
"So you'll be home about…"
Her eyes darted down before he finished the question. "I'll be home later tonight."
He didn't question it and she didn't offer an explanation. Instead he patted her shoulder and reached for his coat. He could have backed into it, asked her if they should wait up or if she would like him to bring her dinner. She would see through those tactics and he preferred to be kept in the dark. "I'm going to head out. Call if anything comes up."
She lifted the hand radio and nodded. "Got you right here."
A soft stillness had settled over the loft and only the shards of the light from a nearby streetlamp seemed to penetrate the fortress of brick walls and thick glass windows. From her spot on the couch, Mary Margaret Nolan sat wrapped in a soft blue robe and cradled her son to her chest. She could keep an eye on everything from that one spot. From her husband sleeping peacefully across the way to her daughter and Elsa upstairs in their beds, she knew that it was a peaceful and quiet tranquility that was all too rare in Storybrooke these days.
These early morning hours were the only peace she had known lately, as their lives had become a catalyst for chaos when they were all awake. But still when she heard the footsteps growing louder, Mary Margaret did not react badly. She stifled a yawn and looked in the direction of the stairs to see Emma, her blonde daughter, descending. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked cautiously keeping her tone low.
If Emma was surprised to see her awake at such an hour, she did not express it. Instead the woman chose a seat next to a space heater and folded her legs up under her. "Anxious, I guess," she muttered.
"Makes sense," she answered back. "I didn't hear you come in last night."
Emma almost snorted a laugh, but changed it to a cough when she realized her mother was only half joking. "I got back about 1 and it's 5 now so four hours of sleep isn't too bad considering."
Mary Margaret groaned. "I would kill for that many hours of sleep in a row," she admitted, smiling down at her son in her arms. Then she looked up and smiled at her daughter. "Did everything go well tonight though? What did you guys…"
Through the soft light in the window, she could tell her daughter was blushing. "I don't think I'm ready for this conversation," Emma declared. "Besides. You already grilled me for half an hour before I left this morning. It wasn't a date, date. It was more of a… It was just…"
The mother nodded furiously. "I know. I know."
Emma looked a bit regretful that she had snapped at her mother. "It was nice," she finally admitted in a low tone. "More than nice."
Mary Margaret went to open her mouth with a quick trill broke through the silence. She watched as Emma fumbled for the cell phone that had been sitting in the pocket of her pajamas and then smiled at the screen. It was just a glimpse though, as the blonde quickly pocketed the device as soon as she realized her mother was watching.
"More than nice is a good start," she stated, struggling to get to her feet. "And you should answer him back before he thinks you're avoiding him."
Opening her mouth to protest, she quickly smiled again. "Got it. Don't make him think that I'm avoiding him." Her fingers flew back into her pocket much to her mother's amusement.
Mary Margaret walked into the kitchen and began filling the red kettle with water. It wasn't an easy task to do while still holding a sleeping baby in her arms, but she managed. And truth be told even managed to watch her daughter curl up in the chair and whisper softly to the phone. Though she couldn't make out the words, she swore she even heard her daughter emit what sounded vaguely like a giggle.