I

"It is one to me whether I live or die. All I ask is for love to remain with me" - Joseph Surin, S.J.

Her story was not a happy one.

People liked to pretend they wanted to hear happy stories, but that wasn't true. People wanted tragedy. People wanted blood, and sacrifice, and star-crossed lovers. They wanted a train wreck. Maybe it made them feel better about their own lives. Maybe it was just more entertaining when things went array. Didn't really matter, she had never been good with people, so naturally she didn't understand their behavior. She would've much preferred a happy story, but she was Emma Swan so she didn't get one. Emma Swan was the living definition of tragedy. Living being a loose term.

Life was funny. Death was funnier.

The irony wasn't lost on her. She was in a lecture regarding the dangers of texting and walking. Her teenage son, Henry, had already zoned out a while back. Normally, she'd give him a nudge and tell him to pay attention, but she let it slide. This was the fourth seminar they'd attended since school started two months ago. Henry went to the best school in Boston, Emma always tried to give her son the very best, but they pushed the issue of safety a bit hard. She was convinced they'd encase all the kids in bubble wrap if the parents would consent. Besides, Henry knew first-hand the dangers of texting and walking.

It's how she died.

Texting and walking.

Not the most glamorous way to go mind you, she would've much preferred a more noble death; saving a baby from a burning building type of thing. Fate had never smiled on her too kindly. So that's why on a perfectly average Tuesday in March she'd walked into a busy intersection, head buried in her phone, and a semi-truck had barreled into her. The force had snapped her spine in two and she had died on impact. To this day, her name was a warning mothers in North Adams, Massachusetts gave their children about looking up from your phone before you crossed the street. It wasn't entirely her fault though; she'd never had a mother to warn her of those particular dangers. It was easier to blame the woman who had left her on the side of a freeway then admit it was just one of the many idiotic moves she'd made in her short life.

Moves that had continued to follow her into her endless afterlife.

How one could have led so sinful an existence and still be granted the Gift, capital G, was well beyond her limited scope of understanding. The universe had a funny way of working itself out. She'll admit it had been quite the experience staring down at her broken, mangled, and clearly deceased body on that perfectly average Tuesday in March. Then there was the fact that no one in her vicinity could see her. She'd waved and screamed and flailed her arms around until she accepted that maybe this was it. Maybe this was what she was condemned to; wandering around for the rest of eternity unable to connect with anyone. It wasn't until she met Mary Margaret that things began to turn around.

When the police had finally identified her, and it had taken awhile because Emma Swan had learned long ago how to be invisible, they set about finding her next of kin. That had quickly turned into a bust, because Emma Swan didn't have any family except for a terrified 6 year old asking what had happened to his mom. What Henry didn't realize was that this mother had been by his side since shortly after her accident. She stuck by him, whispering into his ear that everything would be okay, even though she had no idea what was happening, as police took him into custody. She traveled with him and a social worker as they made their way to Boston. Henry had been temporarily placed into an orphanage in the city as they worked to put him with a foster family. She decided at that moment that maybe this was hell; watching her son be thrown into the same system she had spend her youth trying to escape. This was the thought process she'd been working through when she slammed into Mary Margaret.

She'd seen the woman, a social worker, walking the halls before. She had a jet black pixie cut and wide, green, "trust me", eyes set in an oval face. She was wearing a white, lace blouse with a forest green cardigan and dark blue jeans. She had a soft, comforting way about her which probably helped with the frightened and confused children. Emma scrambled to gather up the papers the woman had dropped when they collided, muttering fumbled apologies as she shoved them into her hands. She could see Henry being ushered down the hallway by his social worker, and she was hastily trying to rejoin him before she realized something was off. Since her death, she hadn't been able to touch anything, since she seemingly lacked a physical form, but that hadn't been the case with this woman. Emma's hand shot out and grasped the woman's wrist, startling Mary Margaret, who locked eyes with her. Locked eyes with her.

"You can see me?" Emma cried, hand tightening in what had to be an uncomfortable grip around the woman's wrist, although Mary Margaret did not flinch.

The woman looked temporarily confused as she took in Emma's wild expression, before understanding lit up her features. Her eyes suddenly had a mischievous glint to them as though Emma had just told her a secret. "Why of course I can, Blessed One."

"No one else can," Emma blurted. Maybe this woman was crazy, having just referred to her as a blessed one, but she could see her and that was everything.

"The humans can't see you."

Definitely crazy. "Pardon me?" Emma asked, suddenly wary. She straightened up from her crouched position and, because her hand was still grasping her wrist, Mary Margaret followed.

"You're in an ethereal state, it's our basic line of defense when we're in distress. Humans can't see you when you're like this."

"Who the hell is we?" Emma sputtered. She was surprised by the sudden feeling of lightheadedness that came over her when the word "hell" passed her lips.

Mary Margaret's expression shifted back into one of confusion and a expression that Emma easily identified as pity flitted across her face. "Oh my dear, don't you know what you are?"

OOO

"And that is why we must be vigilant while we cross the street!" Henry's teacher's enthusiastic screech pulled Emma out of her thoughts. She joined the other parents in a round of applause for what would surely be a life-saving seminar. The teacher looked incredibly self-satisfied as she exited the podium.

"You ready to go, kid?" Emma asked as she stood up and stretched her legs. Henry immediately copied her actions and Emma had to choke down the lump in her throat at the fact that he was taller than her. At some point, Henry had shifted from her little boy into a man and it scared her. He was growing older and she was forever frozen.

"Yeah, Mom, just give me a minute," Henry replied over his shoulder as someone caught his eye from across the room. She watched as he made his way over to Violet Percy, a girl in his grade that he'd taken a shine to. Emma, of course, had looked into her extensively. She was an honors student, president of the equestrian club, and tutored elementary students on the weekends. Not quite good enough for her son, but Emma could let her slide. Especially given Violet's thoughts towards her son.

Naturally, she had no idea Emma could hear her.

They weren't prayers per say, because Violet's family was atheist (Emma had also discovered that in her research), which meant they were harder to pick up on. When humans prayed, regardless of the religion, Emma's kind heard them. Hearing voices grows old quite quickly, and Emma had learned to tune them out lest they drive her crazy. Thoughts were easier. She had to try and pick those out. It didn't take much effort, but it did require her focus. Luckily, Violet wasn't particularly guarded with her thoughts, and Henry was often on her mind. She liked her son. A lot.

So Emma didn't interrupt him as he made his way over to Violet. She simply watched him out of the corner of her eye while she gathered up her purse. Which is why she didn't see Kim Cardino, President of the PTA, making her way over to her.

"Emma Swan!" the woman called, her voice ringing out so shrilly, Emma was surprised the windows didn't shatter. She briefly debated teleporting to the car. Henry would know where to find her and she could be out so fast people would think her presence was a trick of the light. Anything to avoid Kim "you-buy-your-clothes-at-Target-how-cute" Cardino. But Emma had never been one to run away from a fight so she grit her teeth and turned around.

"Kim! How are you?" Emma asked in a sickly sweet voice. Anyone who knew her knew it was a front, but then again, none of these people knew her.

"I'm a bit put out if I'm being honest with you, Emma! When are you going to join the parent's leadership council?" Kim asked, voice taking on what was supposed to be mock anger. Emma had a special sense for human emotions though, and she could feel the hostility rolling off this woman as if she was being physically hit. Her kind was incompatible with feelings of hostility, vengeance, anger, greed, and all those good things. It made them physically ill. Emma's natural flight-or-fight instincts began to kick in and she realized she needed to get out of here.

Easier said than done.

"Oh, I don't think I'm leadership council material, although I do appreciate the fact that you've considered me."

"Nonsense! Anyone is welcome on the parent's leadership council!" Kim chirped. Emma fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

It was the biggest load of crap she'd heard in a long time. Emma had met some unwelcoming people in her life, but Kim and her army of Prozac-popping, Prada wielding mannequins were the worse. Emma Swan was far from their ideal candidate. Emma was the definition of what they weren't looking for. She knew exactly why Kim was attempting to sequester her into this. Kim was the type of woman who needed to know everything about everyone and wouldn't take no for an answer. The harder you pushed against her, the more Kim Cardino thought you were hiding something from her.

Paranoia was a dangerous thing.

Kim wasn't all bad though. Emma could easily detect the points of light within her. They weren't blindingly obvious, but they were there. In Kim the darkness was simply a facade; it was only surface deep. If you looked a little harder, Kim Cardino was fundamentally a good person. She cared deeply for her children and still loved the husband who was clearly more interested in his twenty something receptionist then his aging wife. Which made it so much harder for Emma to simply brush her off.

Saving people was engrained in her. It was supposed to be the only focus of her afterlife. If a soul was lost, Emma couldn't help but try and drag them back into the light.

"Listen Kim, I really appreciate the offer, but I'm super swamped with work at the moment and you know I'm a single mom. I'm just going to have to pass." Emma gave her a tight smile, the only kind she could muster, and turned to leave, hoping the woman would let it drop.

She felt Kim reach out and grasp her wrist, and Emma couldn't help her instinctual reaction. The hostile vibes Kim had been giving off had already served to heighten Emma's defenses. All it took was that one little touch to cause a physical reaction.

It wouldn't hurt her, just a small electric shock that pulsed down Emma's arm and into Kim's hand. It had the desired effect, the woman quickly released her with a gasp. The look in Emma's eyes was what sent her reeling backwards. She could feel the power buzzing beneath her skin, something eternal and otherworldly begging to be let out. She shoved it down. Utilizing that kind of power had dangerous consequences. Every use pushed you further away from your human self, not to mention the dark path it could drag you down.

"Like I said," she repeated firmly, reigning herself back in, "I just don't have the time." She gave Kim a curt nod that easily conveyed "push me again and I will end you" as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked off to the exit. A part of her felt bad for scaring the woman, but she knew it was necessary to get through to her.

Her kind may be benevolent by nature, but they were not meek.

When she reached the school parking lot she noticed her son standing with a group of his friends a few cars down from her own. He looked up and nodded at her, his gaze telling her he'd be right there. Emma and Henry had a unique relationship, giving birth at 17 would do that, and the two could communicate with simply a glance. Emma always did her best to give her son his privacy, but when his voice carried lowly across the parking lot, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I've got to go, my mom is here," he was whispering and Emma could hear his friends' confused thoughts as to his change in tone. Henry knew she could hear him, but they didn't.

"C'mon man, you said you'd come!" one of Henry's friends, Roland, protested. Henry and Roland had known each other for quite some time. Roland was younger than the rest of the group. He had skipped a few grades because he was incredibly smart. Henry had immediately taken him under his wing at school, keeping the bullies away. Emma had struck up a casual friendship with Roland's dad, Robin. He was also a single parent, his wife, Marian, had died a few years back, so they looked out for each other. If one of them forgot an impending bake sale, or couldn't pick their kid up because of work, the other was there. It was a nice little partnership they had, and Robin didn't ask questions. He knew absolutely nothing about her past or her personal life, and he didn't care and Emma was immensely appreciative of that.

"I've got a lot of work to do and it's a school night," Henry protested weakly.

"Henry it's the new Captain America movie, it got great reviews and you'll be home by 11," another one of his friends, Grace, interjected. Emma had only met Grace on one or two occasions. One of her dads, Jefferson, was a designer at some international fashion company that Emma couldn't pronounce. He was a frenetic man, the type of guy who you met 17 times and who never remembered you. Emma could tell he was well-meaning, but he clearly had ambitions a little too big for other people to understand. Grace's other dad, Artie, was much more laid-back and soft-spoken. He was a therapist, and worked with almost all of Boston's elite. She'd enlisted his help in cracking a case a couple years back, and ever since then they'd been pretty friendly. She had no idea how the two men had found each other, but they worked quite well. That was love she supposed.

"I know you guys, but I really, really can't tonight," Henry protested. Emma was unlocking the car now, still listening intently to the conversation going on.

"Please, Henry," this time it was Violet speaking, in her soft tinkling voice. Violet really wanted Henry to go with them, so she could get some quality time with him. In fact, her desire for him to come was so strong that it was knocking into Emma as though she were outright praying for it. Emma had to keep herself from making the girl's wish come true; her son had strictly forbid her from meddling in his affairs.

"I'm sorry, Vi," Henry whispered and Emma watched out of the corner of her eye as her son's hand wrapped around the girl's. "Another time. Promise," Henry squeezed her hand and she gave him a small smile in return. Emma could feel the disappointment rolling of the girl as her son said his goodbyes and jogged over to their car.

"Violet wants you to go out with her and her friends," Emma whispered.

"I know," Henry replied curtly. Emma knew he didn't like it when she poked around in Violet's head. What he didn't know was that Emma was always tuned into anyone who thought of her son. Violet just happened to think of him often.

"You should go."

"No, today is your day and I'm spending it with you."

"You're being ridiculous. You should be with your friends." Henry would not be held back because of her.

"But Mary Margaret said…"

"I don't care what Mary Margaret said. I'm your mother and I'm telling you to go," Emma snapped and Henry flinched at her rarely utilized "mom tone".

"Are you sure?" She could tell he was wavering if only to avoid having her chew him out.

"Yes," Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. "Anyways it's my day so you have to do what I say."

Henry gave her a brilliant smile before kissing the top of her head and skittering off to join his friends. Emma watched him go before she pulled open the door of her VW Bug and slid in, She threw her purse onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the school parking lot. The drive to her condo was a long one and she was just about to take the left turn that would lead her to the outskirts of town, when she had a change of heart and went right. She didn't particularly want to sit in her empty condo alone and Henry was right about what Mary Margaret said. She needed to do this ritual.

Emma would normally never be caught dead in Whole Foods, but it was the nearest grocery store. She perused the aisles quietly and had to keep from rolling her eyes at some of the things on display. They were literally selling water in boxes and charging three times the price of bottled water because it was in a box. She said a silent thank you when she reached the bakery section, because she was about one overpriced strawberry away from bitching an employee out. She quickly plucked an individual vanilla cupcake from the shelf and placed it in her cart. She debated on throwing in some quinoa just so the thing didn't look so sad all on its own, but decided against it when she saw the price. Whole Foods was the sign of the impending apocalypse, she was sure of it.

She did her best to ignore the cashiers' look of pity as she placed her cupcake on the conveyor belt.

"Is it someone's birthday?" the cashier asked as he rung her up.

Emma slammed her money down, she'd already calculated exact change, and picked her dessert up before he could place it in the bag. "I just wanted a cupcake," she replied before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the store. She placed her cupcake in the passenger seat, briefly debated buckling it up, decided against it, and began the drive back to her home.

Emma lived on Blue Hill Avenue near Franklin Field, arguably one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. It'd been home since she'd followed Henry to the city shortly after her accident. One of the perks of being in such a shit neighborhood was that it was a relatively spacious condominium. In fact, that's what had first drawn her here; it was one of the only two-bedroom places she could afford with her salary at the time. Money had begun to come in after she had established herself as a bail bonds(wo)man, but she'd never had the heart to leave. She liked her neighbors (especially the old woman who lived next door, Granny, who often looked after Henry when Emma was away for extended periods of time), and there was something about little orphan Emma that never fit in anywhere "nice". There was also something in her that liked to be around the chaos. Mary Margaret had explained that her desire to help lost souls probably played a role, but Emma had shrugged her off. She liked her crappy little condo; it matched her crappy little life, and so she stayed. The various gangs in the area knew not to mess with her; something in their biological human nature told them they shouldn't incur her wrath. They were right about that.

She trudged up the three front steps that led to her blue front door (Blue Hill Avenue, blue front door, clever, right?). It took her a bit of time to unlock the three dead bolts on the door. The moment Henry went off to college she was removing two of them. Her own life, if you could call it that, didn't mean much to her, but Henry was her everything. She'd put his safety above all else, including her impatient ways.

Her door opened unceremoniously and she shoved her way in, flicking on the lights. She dropped her cupcake unceremoniously on the linoleum kitchen counter, before she began searching for a candle. She found her prize buried in the back of a drawer, it was leftover from Henry's birthday a few months back. Emma popped open the plastic lid on the cupcake and grabbed a paper plate from a cabinet. She placed the candle in the center and stared at the sad sight for a moment. With barely a twitch of her fingers, the wick of the candle caught fire. Emma slouched down so that her forearms were resting on the counter, her chin sitting on top of them. She was alone on her birthday.

She knew Henry would've been here had she asked him to be, but she never wanted him to miss out because of her. She wouldn't even be celebrating this stupid date (it was pointless at this point, she had infinite birthdays), but one of the things Mary Margaret always stressed was the importance of birthdays. It helped them hold onto their humanity, and for Emma, who clung to her human life, that was everything. When Emma stopped keeping track of time, when she stopped marking days and years, that's when centuries would begin to blur together. She just couldn't afford that. Not when everyday her son grew a little bit taller and a little bit older and she stayed exactly the same. So she did the rituals, she did the human thing, in the hopes that one day, maybe, she could fool herself into believing she was one.

"Happy Birthday, Emma," she whispered as she blew out the candle.

She ate the cupcake out of pure habit. She couldn't actually taste human food, and she wouldn't get any sort of nutritional or caloric value out of it, but for a moment she almost tasted the frosting on her tongue. She was just shoving the last bit into her mouth, debating on whether to watch Grey's Anatomy or House of Cards when her cellphone rang. She rolled her eyes as her phone blared out "stop, collaborate and listen," before she could get to it. She'd changed her ringtone to Ice, Ice Baby one drunken night and always meant to change it back to Marimba, but never got around to it. She didn't even need to look at caller ID to know who was on the other end, he always contacted her the night of her birthday.

"What?" she barked out, cupcake sticking to the inside of her esophagus, almost as soon as she slid her finger across the home screen.

"Nice to hear your voice too, birthday girl. How's your day been?" the voice on the other end laughed.

"Uneventful, for the most part. I did nearly get into a fight with a PTA mom, but I restrained myself," Emma smiled and she heard him chuckle.

"Proud of you."

"Thank you for the flowers, by the way," Emma called as she looked back at the daisies sitting on her tiny dining room table. Every year he brought her a new floral arrangement since she didn't have a favorite flower. He always groaned about that, because trust her to be difficult even when it came to botany.

"Anytime, Emma," he laughed.

"So are you going to text me the address," Emma sighed into the phone as she scooped up her keys.

"You sure you don't mind coming in, I hate to bother you on your birthday." Emma could practically see his apologetic wince as though he were standing right next to her.

"You always bother me on my birthday. I'll see you in 20."

OOO

She found him standing just outside the house, hands on his hips as he waited for her. He was wearing sunglasses in the dead of night and she fought the urge to roll her eyes at his antics. She cut the engine and stepped outside into the darkness. It had just begun to rain so she pulled the hood of her (faux) fur-lined black leather jacket up around head.

"David!" She called as she made her way over to him. He whipped off his glasses when he saw her, quickly dashing over to her and pulling her into a bear hug.

"Thank you so much for coming," he muttered before he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back so he could look at her. "I have to say, little sister, you aren't aging very well," he laughed.

David was the only human, besides Henry, who knew her secret. She'd known him since she was 7; they'd bounced around the foster care system together. They'd kept in touch until he'd gone off to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and she'd run away from the family she'd been living with. He'd tracked her down about five years ago, shortly after her death, and the two had essentially picked up right where they left off. Turns out, he'd followed his dreams and become a police officer in the Boston PD. He'd occasionally call her in on difficult cases, saying that she had a keen eye and a knack for catching bad guys. She knew it was just because he wanted to help her make a little extra cash. Her secret had been spilled one day when a perp had shot her, point-blank, 6 times and she'd been completely unaffected. He'd originally been incredibly skeptical of the whole thing, and right before he'd had her committed, Emma was finally able to convince him by reading his mind. Well, that whole episode had opened up a host of new possibilities and David began calling her in on more and more cases. Emma had quickly discovered that her knack for knowing when people were lying had extended, and even improved, in her afterlife.

So they did the partner thing for a bit, never permanently because Emma refused to be a "real cop". Which is why no one looked at her sideways when David lifted the police tape to give her access to the crime scene. The house they were entering was stunningly beautiful. The architecture was reminiscent of Cape Cod; colonial design, large windows, pitched roof, the whole nine yards. The decor on the inside was beautiful as well, lots of creams and tans with subtle blue accents. David handed her a set of rubber gloves which she quickly snapped on as they made their way upstairs.

"It's the same stuff we've been dealing with every year, three bodies found in an upper-class Boston home. This time it's two women and a man. The message is the same as always, and it appears to have been written in human blood. What's interesting this time, however; is that he appears to have changed his MO," David explains as they make their way down the first floor hallway.

"Really?" Emma asks. Whoever this psycho is, he's been doing the same thing every year. Emma was surprised to learned that had changed.

"Whereas normally the bodies are simply placed next to one another, this time he's done something… interesting to them," David explained as Emma began to enter the room where the crime had taken place. She was stopped when she felt David grip her forearm. "That's not all."

"No?"

"No. There's something unique about these victims, Emma. They're… well they're… perhaps it's easier if i show you," David muttered as he gestured for her to enter.

What was waiting for her in that room was a sight to behold. She'd seen some pretty gruesome sights while on the job, but this definitely took the cake. There were three victims, all appeared to be in their mid-twenties. One of the women was face down on the carpet; the perp had clearly dumped her body unceremoniously on the carpet. She had slash marks up and down her back as though she had been whipped and lacerations on her wrists that suggested she'd been tied up at one point. The second body, the other woman, had been placed in a kneeling position. Her mouth had been taped over and her hands were bound behind her back. The third victim had been impaled on a large metal pole that had been attached to the wall. His body slumped forward and there was severe bruising on his face. Her eyes then traveled to the message written in bright, red blood on the stark, white wall. "Nesir sah roivas eht". The perp had written it at the scene of every single crime. The situation would've been off-putting enough, but there was something more, something that was unsettling deep within her bones.

"Emma, come over here," David called as he walked carefully over to the third victim, the one who had been impaled.

Emma was in the process of making her way over to him, trying to push back the sudden wave of nausea that was overcoming her, when the strangest damn thing happened. She was walking by the kneeling body, when the sudden urge to defend herself kicked in. All of her instincts went into hyperdrive and she had to screw her eyes shut and take a calming breath to keep from lashing out. The feeling was gone just as quickly as it came and she opened her eyes to see David watching her curiously.

"I'm okay," she muttered as she went to stand next to him.

"You sure? You disappeared there for a second," David replied hesitantly.

"I'm fine, just drop it" Emma brushed him off aggressively. She knew it wasn't fair but she hated when people took care of her. "What was it you wanted to show me?" she asked in a slightly calmer tone. David eyed her skeptically, but knew her well enough not to push.

"We were examining the bodies and one of the other men on the force, Graham, you remember Graham?" David asked as he tried and failed to keep his voice nonchalant.

"Graham, the one you tried to set me up with?" Emma replied dryly.

"Yes, that's the one. You never called him back, by the way."

"Seriously? You're going to do this in a room full of murder victims? Seriously?" Emma knew David had her best interests at heart, but seriously?

"No time like the present."

"David."

"Right, okay, so, Graham was examining the bodies and he came across these," David pulled the victim's shirt down so Emma could get a clear look at his shoulder blades. "I didn't think anything of it at first, but then I thought they looked awfully similar to yours and… Emma? Are you okay?"

She wanted to scream that, no, in fact, she was not okay. She wanted him to get her out of there. She wanted to throw up, or cry, or go fucking nuclear, but all she could do was stare down at the man's backside. It explained why she'd been on edge like never before when she walked into this room. There was something deeper going on here, something far more dangerous than she was equipped to handle.

She looked back down at the two small bumps gracing the man's back. Right where his wings would come out. Which meant…

Don't you know what you are?

Angel.