The Cupid Shuffle

It was only seven in the morning and already Emma Swan was having a bad day. The power had gone out in the middle of the night and turned off her alarm clock. She'd woken up an hour later than she'd planned and just barely had time to throw on a pair of skinny jeans, a thick sweater, and her boots before leaving. She stopped in the doorway when a blast of icy cold air accosted her face.

"For the love of God…" she muttered. It was the middle of February and she'd forgotten her coat. What a great day this one was going to be.

She was even more behind schedule once she'd finally pulled a coat, scarf, and hat out of her closet. She could feel her patience wearing thin.

As she locked the door, a piece of paper caught her eye. It was stuck behind the apartment number, which rested at eyelevel next to the doorframe.

She picked it up and read the one word that was written there: Hi.

Her eyebrows scrunched up as she took in that simple word. What on earth…

It was written on a piece of paper that had clearly been pulled out of a notebook; the edges were torn. The ink looked like it was from some kind of blue pen and the rough handwriting was totally unfamiliar to her.

She didn't have time to deal with whatever this meant. She folded the note up, stuck it in her pocket, and proceeded down the street in the direction of Granny's. If ever she needed a cup of coffee, today was the day.

Emma didn't realize what day it was until she walked into Granny's and was accosted by pink and red decorations hanging on every surface in the restaurant, from the ceiling to the sign in the back pointing to the restrooms. She had never seen so many hearts in her entire life.

She spun on the spot and was about to walk right back out when she was hugged from behind.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mom!"

Emma forced a smile onto her face before she answered. "Right back atcha, kid!"

"What's wrong?" Henry asked.

Emma didn't answer right away as she silently cursed whoever was responsible for giving her such a perceptive kid.

"Nothing," she answered, walking over to their normal booth. Henry had already ordered his usual hot chocolate with cinnamon. Without asking she took a sip, hoping that it would distract Henry from his questions.

It didn't.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

Emma tried to look confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Forcing expressions onto your face."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are, you're doing it right now."

"I am no-"

"Hey, Emma! What can I get for you?" Ruby interrupted as she swooped over to their booth, blissfully unaware of their conversation. She was wearing even more red than normal and had gigantic heart shaped earrings hanging from her ears.

"Uh, yeah, I'll take a coffee, thanks," Emma replied, burying her head in her hands.

"What's wrong with her?" Ruby whispered to Henry. She looked about to say something else, but was distracted when a bell announced that a new customer entered. It was Dr. Whale. He was holding a single red rose in his hand.

Ruby screeched in excitement and ran over to him.

Emma groaned and put her face down on the table.

"Seriously," Henry said.

She peaked up at him. "I just hate this day."

"What, Valentine's Day?" he asked with a laugh.

She just nodded, not caring to go into the gory details.

"Why? Because you don't have a Valentine?"

When she didn't answer, he said, "You know you could just ask someone."

Of their own accord a pair of bright blue eyes popped into her mind. She chuckled out loud as she tried to shoo that image away. "It's not that simple, kid," she said with a sigh.

He gave her a look that plainly said it was that simple. Mercifully he changed the subject. "Did you make the cookies?"

"What cookies?"

"The cookies for my class? For the party today?"

Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse...

"Completely slipped my mind," she admitted. "I have to go to the station for a little while, but I'll go get some dough and bring them to the school. What time do you need me there?"

Five minutes later Emma walked determinedly down the street, cup of coffee in hand. She hated that she'd been short with Henry, but she just really couldn't stand this day. She couldn't help it, past experience made her wary of anything remotely cupidlike and, by association, the same applied to anyone who loved this particular holiday. She'd make it up to him later.

She was about to enter the station, her mind still full of her conversation with Henry, when she saw it: a piece of paper folded up and taped to the door.

She froze.

Another one?

She picked it up, flipped it open, and read: You look very nice today. It was in the same scraggily hand as the other one she'd found outside her apartment.

Her head snapped up as she quickly scanned the street. Did she have some kind of stalker? There was no one in sight, but she had the strangest feeling that she was being watched.

An involuntary shiver ran up her spine as she finally pushed the door open.

She shook her coat off and hung it on the hook, her eyes avoiding Graham's old jacket, which also hung on there, before pulling both notes out and laying them side-by-side. No doubt about it, they were definitely written by the same person, but she still didn't recognize the writing. Maybe with a little detective work she could find the writer.

Emma pulled open the filing cabinet that sat in the corner and quickly located the file she was looking for. It was full of forms filled out by every resident in Storybrooke listing addresses and other such basic facts. She would simply go through each until she found a match.

But an hour later Emma had found nothing, and she was just as dumbfounded as she'd been before. She looked at the clock and realized with a shock that it was nearly nine. With a groan she abandoned her search.

As she was locking up she found another one stuck under the doormat that said: Have a nice day.

Emma was not the type to let things bother her, but this strange series of notes rattled her, as she suspected had been the writer's intention. She was completely distracted as she made her way around the grocery store and it took her nearly five minutes to locate the cookie dough despite the fact that she'd been in there a million times before. She bought sugar cookies, the kind with Valentine's themed shapes on them, and made her way to the register. Baking anything from scratch always resulted in disaster for her, not that she had time to try.

She half expected to find another note from the weirdo on her door when she got home, but there was nothing there. She tried to convince herself that nothing else was going to happen as she yanked open the drawer under the stove, found a cookie sheet, and arranged the pieces of dough on it.

Dammit, Swan, pull yourself together.

Emma made it to the school with about five minutes to spare. She was running so quickly down the hallway that she almost slid into a wall as she rounded a corner.

"Mom!" Henry yelled when she finally appeared. The classroom was filled with children and their mothers, busy passing out treats. The kids were clearly already high on sugar; they were bouncing off the walls. "I thought you weren't coming."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Now why would you think that? I've never let you down before."

Henry shrugged. "True."

Mary Margaret came up then, looking resplendent, as always, in a light pink dress. She was wearing earrings shaped like cupids and looked so excited about the festivities that Emma wanted to vomit. "About time you showed up," she said as she hugged her daughter.

"I… got held up."

Mary Margaret's eyes narrowed.

"Looks like quite the celebration," Emma commented, changing the subject.

"Yes, well, this is one of my favorite holidays, you know."

Emma suddenly realized that Henry wasn't next to them anymore, and she looked around for him. It was then that she saw her son talking to Jefferson's daughter, Grace. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realized how fast he was growing up. She'd missed so much already and here he was already with his first crush.

She felt her heart break a little as she watched them.

Emma stayed to help clean when the children abandoned the party in favor of the playground. "You and David have plans tonight?" She felt strange using their real names, but it would feel stranger calling them Mom and Dad and even stranger to call them Snow and Charming.

"Yes! We're going to dinner, but I don't know where. He wants it to be a surprise," Mary Margaret answered with such enthusiasm that Emma was tempted to run from the room.

Emma faked a smile as she began stacking paper plates. There was icing with little pieces of heart shaped confetti all over nearly every table in the room. Who's brilliant idea had it been to let the children decorate their own cupcakes?

"What about you? Have a big date tonight?" Mary Margaret asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Emma snorted. "No."

"Why not?"

"Valentine's Day is noting more than a fabrication of the greeting card industry, and I fail to see the point of it. If you really love someone, you should treat them well every day, not just once a year."

Mary Margaret looked nothing short of scandalized by her daughter's answer.

Emma purposefully knocked over a cup filled with red Kool Aid so that she would have to leave the room to go find paper towels.

It was nearly two o'clock when Emma finally left the school and headed back to the station. She had now wasted nearly half the day and knew that she had a great deal of paperwork to catch up on and a million phone calls to return.

She was quite far from the door when her eyes noticed something white on it. Another one!?

She broke into a run and almost ripped the note in her eagerness to open it.

Back at work so soon? Go home.

Her eyes narrowed. Someone was playing games with her. Well fine, let them, she wasn't going to listen.

She threw her hair over her shoulder, perhaps a little more dramatically than the occasion called for, and strode inside without looking back.

She was right, there were about two dozen messages waiting on the machine for her and by the time she'd answered everyone's queries and filed the related paperwork it was five, her usual quitting time. Deciding that she'd made her point perfectly well, Emma went about her normal closing duties and locked up before leaving.

She wrapped her coat more tightly around her as she walked and it wasn't long before she was chilled right to the bone. She thought longingly of the pot of coffee she would make once she was home.

But all thoughts of coffee left her mind when she saw the package sitting on her doorstep. There was a folded piece of paper on top.

What the hell is going on!?

Deciding on the spot not to look inside the box out in the open because she just knew someone was watching her, she unlocked the door and kicked her gift inside.

There, let the creep make of that what he will.

Once she had shut the door firmly behind her, she pulled the lid off. Her eyes widened.

Inside the box was an exquisite red dress, very similar to one she used to own, although this one was strapless. She pulled it out of the box and the satiny fabric unfolded before her. There was no doubt about the beauty of this gift. She checked the tag. It was even in her size.

Emma sat on the floor of the apartment for nearly thirty minutes trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She was finally snapped out of her reverie by the arrival of Henry.

"Hey, Mom," he said, and then he noticed where she was. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," she murmured, stuffing the dress back into the box, trying desperately to conceal it from him.

"You got a new dress? What for?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "it was waiting for me when I got home."

"There's something else with it," Henry said, picking up the piece of paper and handing it to her. "Must've fallen out of the box."

Emma had forgotten all about the note. She took it from him and read: For you. Wear this tonight. The celebrations begin at 8.

It was signed your secret admirer.

"He did it then!" Henry exclaimed.

Emma eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Who did what?"

Henry could barely contain his excitement. "Nothing," he answered, "you just go get ready." Without another word he threw the dress into her hands and shoved her into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Emma stood in the shower for a very long time wanting nothing more than for the scalding water to wash away this frustrating day.

Henry knew something, knew who had been leaving her those notes. And he was excited about it. Who would Henry be excited about her dating?

She felt her heart stop.

Hook.

Henry had yet to shut up about the pirate. As much as Emma had tried to prevent their meeting, it had eventually happened and after their fateful trip to see Hook's ship, Henry had become almost obsessed. He'd wasted no time in showing her Hook's story in the fairytale book and hadn't shut up about it for days.

Although he hadn't admitted so, Emma knew that Henry was living in some kind of fantasyland where she would fall in love with Hook and they would live happily ever after.

But Emma knew better. Happily ever after didn't exist.

Or did it?

Her heart suddenly stuttered. She noticed that her hands were shaking. What was wrong with her?

You're excited. You want to go out with him.

She smiled to herself for a moment and then stopped. The last time she'd felt this excited about someone she'd been royally screwed over.

But this is different… he's different.

She couldn't deny it now; she was looking forward to her date.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A glance at her phone told her didn't have much time left. She quickly blew her hair dry while she let the curling iron heat up. She hadn't curled her hair in ages. She hadn't wanted to.

Until now.

She put on a little makeup, brushed her teeth, slipped the dress on, and looked at herself in the mirror. The dress fit her well and highlighted all of her best features while hiding her flaws. Hook knew how to pick out a dress, no question about that.

When Emma came out of the bathroom, she found Henry waiting in the living room for her.

"You look great," he told her.

She felt a blush creeping up her neck. "Thanks," she muttered. "Now I want you to go to bed, I'll be back in a little while."

Henry glared at her. "It's only eight."

"I don't care, you have school in the morning, and I don't want to be worried about you all night while I'm gone. Bed. Now." She pointed him to his room.

He frowned at her as he got up. She knew he was probably angry with her, again, but she was so overcome with nerves that she felt extra snappy.

She was surprised when he hugged her. "Have fun tonight, Mom," he said before heading to his room.

Emma smiled. And then she heard a knock on the door.

Her heart stopped.

He's here.

She took a few deep breaths and then went to answer the door.

But it wasn't Hook standing on her doorstep, it was someone she hadn't seen in more than ten years, the man who'd left her pregnant and in jail.

Her jaw dropped. "Neal!? What the hell are you doing here?"

He grinned, the same grin he always used to give her. Seeing that familiar smile again only made her more confused. "I'm here for our date. I see you got my notes."

"They were from… you?"

"Of course they were, who else would they be from? That guy August sent me a postcard saying the curse was broken and that I could come find you again if I wanted. And I did. Do. I've missed you Emma, every day over the last ten years. I've been planning how exactly to see you again and then I came up with this secret admirer idea and it just sort of planned itself. You ready?" He said all of this very quickly.

Emma barely heard what he said, all she knew was an intense sense of fury that he had the nerve to come to her like this after all this time mixed with an extremely foreign feeling of disappointment that he wasn't Hook. The latter feeling left her dumbfounded.

"You ready?" Neal asked again.

Emma felt the strong urge to slap him, but she refrained. Henry was in the next room. She'd told him that his father died. She didn't want him to learn that she'd lied to him. She wondered briefly what his explanation would be for abandoning her. And then she decided she'd go with him so she could get the answers she still needed, but only when they well away from their son. There was no reason for them to know about each other.

"Sure," she answered with a sickly sweet smile. "Just let me grab my coat."

Henry had been lurking just out of sight, listening. He was very confused.

He'd seen the pirate earlier in the day when Emma had walked him to the bus stop and again at recess. It seemed that he'd been watching over them, a fact which only confirmed for Henry that he loved his mother. He looked at her the way that his grandparents looked at each other.

Henry, crushed by Emma's reaction to not having a Valentine, had suggested that Hook take his mother out to dinner. A first date on the most romantic day of the year would be perfect and then maybe, just maybe, they could be a family. Hook had been confused at first, but as soon as Henry had explained what the holiday meant he'd agreed.

So when Henry had found her sitting on the floor with that pretty dress and the note, Henry had assumed that Hook had just been following through on the plans.

But the man he'd heard at the door was not Hook.

Henry ran over to the window and tried to make out who he was, but he couldn't see them anymore. He ran outside for a moment, ignoring the cold air and the way his feet were instantly frozen by the concrete. He didn't see his mother or the stranger anywhere, but he could see Hook standing across the street.

Henry waved at him and then stopped when he saw the pirate's face. He was devastated, staring blankly down at the flowers in his hand. Henry had never seen someone look so angry and yet so heartbroken at the same time.

Hook looked up, saw Henry, and then stormed away, throwing the flowers into the first bin he found. He ran his hand over his neck as he rounded the corner, not once looking back.

Henry stood still for a minute before crossing the street. He couldn't understand what had just happened. He walked a few paces and then pulled the flowers out of the trashcan. There was a card attached. The elegant handwriting was not the same as the note that had come with the dress.

It read: I choose you.