"It's flattering that you're here to see me again, forty-five minutes after you left."
Emma had been standing near the door for a while. The least August could do was throw her a bone. He leans back on the cushions of the bed – the seminary's plush are comfy – and smiles at her. "Not that I'm surprised," he adds. "I know I'm irresistible."
A minute ago, the blonde's face was tight and uncertain. Now she just rolls her eyes. "Irresistibly annoying, that's for sure."
"Says the woman who comes to visit him."
"From the guy who reveals he had the Author on his radar long before anyone ever guessed there was a some weirdo controlling people's fates."
"Is that what you're here for?" August frowns. "There's really that not much to tell anymore, Emma. And what there still is, I'd rather just say once; all this talking is bringing back the migraine."
"Are you tired?" Emma shuffles back a little. "Should I leave?"
"That's not what I meant. Come here, Emma." He points to a chair beside him; she walks forward and seats herself. August studies her for a second – blonde hair, blue eyes, lovely features that look far too tired than they should be. I haven't been there for her, he thinks with a pang. Again. "What's the problem?"
"Why should there be a problem?"
"Denial – untruth in its weakest form."
"I am not-"
"The convincing way to lie, Emma, would be to say: August, there's a weirdo who controls everyone's fates on the loose. Or, August, there are at least two madwomen and the Dark One trying to kill us. Or, August, I'm stressed because I have not been in the light of your presence for such a long time." He raises his eyebrows. "Not, 'why should there be a problem?'"
"Excuse me if we're not all expert liars," she scoffs. "I can tell when people are lying; that doesn't mean I'm any good at it."
"I am a liar extraordinaire, when I want to be," August says.
"That's not necessarily something to be proud of."
"Pfft. I managed to fool the Dark One, I'm pretty happy I have that skill," August replies. "And anyway, being proud of it wasn't the point."
"What is, then?"
"That we've always made a good team."
Both of them grin. Memories of hot-chocolate mornings, motorcycle rides, and pre-magic investigations drift over them both, and August has to shake his head to get back to the present. "I know something's wrong, Emma. I know, you have a plethora of people to take care of you now-"
"Less than you think," Emma mutters.
August raises his eyebrows again. "I just want you to know I'm here. I mean, Pinocchio was always here, but now I'm here in a you-can-tell-me-grown-up-things kind of way." He hesitates, and then covers her hand on her lap. She looks at him. "I know I haven't always been there for you before, but from here on out, I have your back. I promise."
"Thanks. That…means a lot to me." She squeezes his hand.
"So…?"
"I'd just – rather not talk about it right now."
"So you really did come here to bask in the glory of my presence."
"Fine, let's call it that."
"Let's talk about something else, then. Is it true you're dating a pirate?"
Emma blinks. "Um, yeah."
"No way. An honest-to-goodness, swashbuckling pirate?"
"I wouldn't go that far-"
"With a hook and a peg leg?"
"Killian does not have a peg leg-"
But it's too late.
"Yar har fiddle dee dee," August sings gleefully. "Being a pirate is all right with me! Do what you want 'cause a pirate lives free! You are a pirate!"
Emma pulls her hand from his grasp and slaps his arm, and he bursts into laughter. And because there's a madman on the loose and the Dark One and two queens of darkness out to kill her, Emma breaks into giggles as well, exchanging her fears for a second with the unfamiliar feeling that was rising in her chest.
It felt like coming home.