Hey, everyone! This is my first ever EmmaxBaelfire fic, and it's also the longest one-shot I've ever written. I've spent longer working on this than any fic I've ever done (including my Rumbelle fics, which I dedicated my life to.) , and as a result, I ship EmmaxBae so hard it's hysterical. I really hope you like this story as much as I liked writing it. Reviews are always appreciated, thank you so much.
Also, I sincerely apologize to anyone who was hoping for another chapter of "Scotches and Dreams", I swear I will have that up soon, I've just been wrapped up in this story.
Anyway, I'll stop rambling, on with the fic.
TO NEVER FORGET: EMMAxBAELFIRE
"I'll show you mine, you show me yours first. Lets compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse."-Swing Life Away, Rise Against
Emma Swan trudges down the wet sidewalk, zipping up her ratty, gray jacket. It isn't raining anymore, thank God, but it's cold as fuck and she needs to get inside a building. Especially after the night she's just had.
It's quite literally the middle of the night, just after 2AM if her stupid, cheap watch hadn't frozen on her again. And she's out here, in the damned back alley trying to run away from her problems. Pretty cutting edge, no? A poor, sad, lonely girl walking through the streets of Boston in the early morning.
She turns a corner and ducks into a bar. What else was there to do? Stand outside until someone mugged her? No thanks.
She plops down on a barstool and motions to the bartender, Jason, who makes his way over to her.
"Dammit, Emma," he says, "I told you not to come here anymore. You're underage."
"Fuck that, Jason," Emma snarls, "Can I please just get a fucking drink?"
Jason sighs but decides it isn't in his best interest to press the age issue. "Fine. What'll it be?" he asks.
"Whatever's strongest," she mumbles.
Jason sighs again before turning around and pulling a bottle of whisky and a glass off the shelf and pouring it for her. "Now Emma, I don't care what happened. I'll cut you off when you've had enough."
Emma just glares at him and takes a long sip of her drink.
She hears the barstool next to her slide out and a male voice say. "I'll have what she's having."
Emma flicks a strand of hair away from her face and sighs heavily.
"Rough night?" the guy who'd just ordered asks her.
"Sort of," Emma grumbles, "You?"
"Sort of."
"What happened," Emma asks, determined to focus on someone's problems besides her own.
She hears the guy laugh and her eyes dart over to him. He's medium height, maybe an inch or two taller than her, and he's got dark hair and deep brown eyes, and he's wearing a tan sweatshirt and dark jeans. He's much older than she is. Probably late twenties or early thirties, but his face looks young. Still, she's think he'd have his life together by then.
"Something funny?" Emma asks.
"No," he says, looking down and shaking his head, "I just, uh, wouldn't expect you to ask."
"Why?"
Jason slides a drink identical to Emma's to the man sitting next to her. He nods at the bartender and grazes the edge of the glass with his finger. "How many people do you know who actually care how you're doing or what your issues are?" he asks Emma.
She shrugs and sips her drink. "None. But I don't know many people. Kind of a loner."
"Why's that?"
"Hard to make friends when you're running away from everything. But something tells me you know a few things about being alone. After all, you're in a bar by yourself in the middle of the night too."
He takes a sip of his drink and winks at her. "Hard to make friends when you're running away from everything."
She actually laughs at that one. "Well, whatever it is you're running away from, I promise you it's worse for me."
He shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know, Emma..."
She blinks at him and her brow furrows. "How do you know my name?"
"Bartender said it," he says.
Emma closes her eyes and looks away. "Right. You never did tell me your name, though."
"It's Baelfire," he tells her.
She looks at him out the corner of her eye and cocks her head. "Really?" she inquires.
He laughs softly. "Yes, really."
She looks up and sucks in a deep breath. "Okay, Baelfire. Why do you think running is so much easier for me than it is for you?"
He looks down and his eyes slit a little, as if he's thinking about it. "Because...I'm trapped somewhere I don't belong, and you're not."
Emma slams her hand down on the bar hard. Baelfire jumps in his seat, terrified that he's upset her. She's laughing loudly, her head thrown back, letting her curls cascade down her back.
"I'm sorry," Baelfire says, "have I...upset you?"
Emma grins and shakes her head slowly. "You think I belong here," she says. It isn't a question.
"I...I mean...w-why wouldn't you?" he stammers. It's like he's a child again. Trying to understand someone who he's assuming is the same as everyone else. Obviously, Emma isn't like everyone else. That's strike two for Bae.
"I don't belong here, because I don't have anything here," Emma says. She actually half-sneers at him.
"Oh, come on," he says, "You must have something. Friends, family?"
She turns to face him and her curls whip to the side. "I already told you. I don't have any kind of friends. And I don't have a family," she says matter-of-factly.
Baelfire nods and looks to the ceiling for a moment before picking up his glass and raising it in the air. "Well then, Emma. It looks like we have a lot in common."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Emma's eyes flutter open and she winces at the invading sunlight and her pounding headache. It's hard to remember the last time she's slept in a real bed. If her memory hadn't failed her, it would be when she was living with the fucking Mendozas against her will. She can't decide if this is better or worse.
The previous night is a blur of whiskeys, laughing, and sweet kisses. But she knows what happened. She knows what she did.
He's asleep next to her. His dark hair is a mess and his bare chest is rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. He looks beautiful. And even though Emma had never done this with another man in her life, she can't bring herself to regret it. She would never forget this. She would never forget him.
He's just like her. He's lost and alone. And terrified. He didn't tell her exactly what problems he was running from last night (not if her memory had any kind of accuracy left in it, anyway), but to be fair, she hadn't told him her issues either, and there were a lot of them.
She sighs and throws the soft covers off her, accidentally taking them off Baelfire too. She closes her eyes, trying to let her eyes linger of his body. After all, if she did that, she'd never leave. She throws on her clothes from yesterday and ties up her little white sneakers. And she's just slipping into her jacket and out the door when she hears a voice behind her.
"Where are you going?"
Emma reaches up and places her fingers on her pounding forehead. She closes her eyes for a moment before looking back up into his eyes. "Out," she says.
"Why?"
"Because," she says, "I can't stay. I told you, I'm running."
"Emma. I'll protect you. You don't have to run."
XXXXXXXXXX
He hears a key in the door and immediately starts tossing things around. He throws the clothes littering the floor into the hamper and tampers with the light until it decides to turn on.
"Are you fucking kidding me!"
He winces at the sound of the voice but doesn't move a muscle. Instead, he sits on the edge of the couch, utterly still.
"I cannot believe that I can't go out for an hour without you moping around, Bae! I swear to God if you've been this way ever since what it was happened I-"
Emma's words are lost because he whips around and flips her onto the couch. "Oh, Emma Swan..." he murmurs, "what are you trying to get yourself into?"
She giggles and leans up to kiss him tenderly. "I don't know," she says, "You can decide my punishment."
"Oh believe me, I will."
She runs his hands through his hair slowly and smiles against his bare chest. "Baelfire?" she says.
"Yeah, Emma?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
She grins and stands up, putting her clothes back on. "So, besides moping around, what did you do today?" she asks.
He smiles and props himself up on his elbows. "Actually, I got you something."
She gasps and smiles. "Really? Where is it?"
He stands up and pulls on his boxers and jeans. "I'll get it for you," he says, retreating to the closet.
She sits back down on the couch and bounces up and down in anticipation. He walks back to her with a rectangular white box. He puts it on her lap and sits down next to her. "Open it, princess," he instructs.
She nods and lifts the lid off the box. She grins when she sees the contents of it. "A leather jacket! I've always wanted one of these! A red one, too...I never told you that. How did you know?"
"Actually," he counters, "You did tell me. You just happened to be way under the influence when you did."
"I told you that the night we met?"she asks.
He kisses her on the forehead. "Yeah."
"You know, I've always had a lot of questions about that night." she says.
"Really? Would you care to elaborate?"
She looks across the room, thinking about what to ask him first. "Okay.." she starts, "What are the problems you were running from? And why aren't you running anymore?"
"I don't have to run from them anymore," he says, and leans in to kiss her, but she puts a finger to his lips.
"Oh, no," she says, "You're not getting off that easy. Tell me."
"Not until you tell me what you were running from." he challenges.
Well that was definitely not something Emma was comfortable with. Because she knew that her problem was a lot worse than his, and that she was lucky to have still escaped them. "Why? That seems really unfair." she says.
He slaps her playfully. "No it doesn't," he says, "And you'll never get to know my secrets unless you tell me yours."
She thinks about this for a second. "Okay, Bae. You win. I'm running from the cops."
He nods and smiles. "Okay. You win, too. I'm running from the memory of my father."
She glares at him. "Care to elaborate?" she asks.
"Not really. Do you?"
"Not really." she grumbles.
There's a long silence before Baelfire asks, "Did you do it?"
"Do what?" Emma asks.
"Whatever the cops are after you for. Did you do it?"
Her eyes dart back and forth before landing on the ground. "No," she snarls.
He nods slowly. "I'll take that as a yes, then."
She sits up and stares at him, open mouthed. "Why in Gods name would you say that?" she demands.
He gives her a little smile and winks. "Trust me, Emma. I know a few things about spotting a liar," he says, "But don't worry. I won't press the issue."
Emma sighs and looks away. "We need a better story, don't we?"
He throws his head back and laughs. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure our future children won't want to hear that we met at 2AM in a bar."
"Where you got me drunk a banged me back at your place."
"And that you were a fugitive."
"And you were emotionally distraught and freaking out."
"And that both of us were completely alone."
Emma looks right into his eyes, smiling and nodding. They both just bask in the patheticness for a long moment. "Yeah," Emma mutters, "That's a pretty shitty story. You got a better one?"
He grins and nods. "Yeah. How about...it was the summer after high school ended for you. You were working in some 24 hour diner and I would come there every day and talk to you.
"Oooh, I like that. Let's make you a firefighter, too, so that you seem more heroic. And I'll be the previous prom queen, so that I seem more pretty and girlish." Emma offers.
Bae gives her a snap-point. "That's perfect! And we need something else...some kind of symbol. I mean, every story needs a memorable detail."
"Pumpkin pie!" Emma says loudly, jumping up, "You'd come into the diner every day and ask for pumpkin pie!"
"I like that! But you never had any, and I'd always complain to you!"
"But every day you'd still come back."
He smiles at her. "Yeah. I would."
She nods. "I guess that's our story, then."
He winks at her. "Better than the original, I'd say. So when our future son asks me how I met his mother, that's what I'll tell him."
"You'd better! I think he'd run away if he heard the real story."
XXXXXXXXXX
Emma rolls over on the bed and opens her eyes. She feels cold. She turns over on her side. There's no one next to her. She starts to panic a little and stands up quickly, looking under the covers and on the dresser for a note or something. He wouldn't just leave without telling her, would he? But there isn't any kind of note or explanation anywhere around.
"Bae?" she calls, "Baelfire!"
No one answers. She bites her lip and runs over to the phone on the wall and dials his cell phone. The answering machine picks up right away. She sighs and runs her hand through her curls. Her mind races with a million reasons why he'd be gone, but honestly, she can't really fathom any kind of reason.
She runs over to the dresser and opens up a drawer, looking for some clothes. But the drawer is empty...except for her red coat. It takes her a second to process it before she realizes that she'd opened Bae's drawer, not hers.
She grabs the coat and storms out the door. She runs down 4 flights of stairs, the anger bubbling up inside her. She swallows hard, trying to stop her tears from spilling over. This can't be happening to her. She's been through far too much shit for him to leave her like this.
To leave her with nothing.
She pushes the door to the apartment complex open hard and runs out into the rain.
He's there. To her complete and utter astonishment, he's right there, hailing a cab. When she sees him she comes so close to crying. To losing all control and sobbing right there and not even caring. But she doesn't let herself do that.
"BAELFIRE!" she screams.
He turns around to see her. He looks shocked to see her. "Emma..." he says, "Emma, I..." he says, running over to her.
She glares right through him and shakes her head. "What the hell is wrong with you!" she asks, "You're...you're leaving?"
He looks up and closes his eyes. "Emma I...I have to go."
Her lower lip quivers and she can feel a lump rising in her throat. "You told me not to run," she chokes out, "You don't have to run, either. I'll...I'll protect you."
"I'm not running, Emma. I just have to go. I think I might have found something. There's this town in Maine and-"
He stops talking when he sees the tears spill from her eyes. "Why can't I come with you?" she whispers.
"You just can't."
Her tears fall harder and faster and she stamps her foot on the ground, making water splash up between them. "You can't do this to me! You can't just leave me here! I don't have anywhere to go!"
He nods slowly. "Yes you do."
And that's when she hears sirens wailing in the distance and she sees the red and blue lights racing toward her. She shakes her head back and forth fast. "No..." she says, "No, Bae, please tell me you didn't." she begins hyperventilating and shaking.
"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispers.
The next few minutes are a blur to her. She sees the police get out of the squadcars. She feels them putting handcuffs around her wrists and hears them telling her she's under arrest. She sees Baelfire duck into a cab.
She sniffs and falls onto the ground from shaking so hard. The cop holding her forces her back up and her eyes narrow at the cab in front of her.
"I'M PREGNANT!" she screams, "I'M PREGNANT YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Those are the last words she'll ever say to him. And whether or not he heard her is pretty irrelevant. Nothing matters to her anymore. She'll never forget this. She'll never forget him.