A/N: So I've been meaning to write this for a while. Crack Day™ seems to be the perfect opportunity, so here goes! Totally unedited and unbetaed and pretty unthought-out as well, just kind of throwing this out there for kicks and ridiculousness.
"What did you say your name was?" Emma asked, pen in hand, hovering just above the legal pad in front of her.
"Molly," the middle-aged woman said firmly. "Molly Jones."
"Uh huh," Emma mumbled, writing it down. "And you're looking for someone?"
"My father," Ms. Jones nodded. "Last I heard he was here, but I don't have a clue where to start looking. I came over with the curse-"
"Which curse was that?" Emma interrupted. "We've had… a couple."
Ms. Jones frowned, thinking. Emma sympathised, grateful once more she'd been spared most of the curses. The past few years hadn't been easy on the memories of people in the town.
"Um… the one before the Camelot one? When we couldn't remember what happened for that year?"
Emma nodded, adding it to the pad. "And who's your father, Ms. Jones?"
"He would be old, really old. His name's Killian. Killian Jones."
Emma froze. What did she just say?!
"Are you… are you sure that's your father's name?"
The woman nodded. "Yeah, my mother told me about him when I was younger, back in… you know, the Forest. Said he was a pirate captain, came into town every once in a while when my mother worked in the local tavern…" She blushed slightly, trailing off into silence.
What the hell?
"I… uh… stay here, I'll be right back."
Without waiting for a reply, Emma jumped up, grabbed her phone, and ran out of the office. Heading down the hall, she opened the door and stepped outside, breathing in the cool early-autumn air, just stood for a moment to catch her thoughts before they ran into territory she didn't think she'd have to venture. She punched in Killian's speed dial and waited for him to answer.
"Emma, love, I know you miss me, but I do have a job to ge-"
"Your daughter's here," Emma interrupted.
Silence on the other end. She waited.
"My… Are you all right? I'm coming right over," Killian finally said quietly.
"I'm fine," she answered, trying to keep her tone casual. "But your daughter's been looking for you for a long time, she'd love to meet you."
"I don't…" Killian sounded confused. "Is this a joke? Henry told me about this one day when you pull pranks, but I was led to believe that was in the sprin-"
"Not a joke. She says her name is Molly, and yeah, you should probably come say hello."
Without another word, Emma hung up.
She felt bad almost immediately. She wasn't really angry at him, per se. She wasn't really sure what she was feeling. His daughter? And he had no idea? She rubbed her hand across her eyes, trying to calm down before he got there. It wasn't an impossible thing, with the hundreds of years he'd lived, that he'd left behind a few children here or there. But he hadn't said anything to her about it, and she hadn't asked.
Maybe I should have.
With a sigh, she turned to go back into the sheriff station, glad that David was out patrolling and didn't have to witness… whatever the hell was about to happen when Killian came over.
Emma pulled open the door, was about to step inside, when a hand caught her arm.
"Excuse me?" a woman's voice said behind her.
Emma turned, saw the impeccably dressed woman with the little girl at her side - about seven years old, Emma guessed - and forced a smile on her face. For such a small town, there were certainly a ton of people she had never seen before.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her smile wavering a bit at the edges with the effort of keeping it there.
"You're the sheriff, right?" the woman said, adjusting the strap of her very expensive purse at her shoulder. "I was hoping you could help me."
"If you could just come inside, I'll be with you in a mome-"
"I need to find someone," the woman blurted out, looking simultaneously determined and sheepish. "I need to find my daughter's father. I haven't been able to find him since the curse broke and… well… she needs him. I need him."
"I'm in the middle of something right now, but if you have a seat inside I can hel-"
"Please," piped up the little girl quietly, her hand still firmly tucked in her mother's. "Please can you find my papa?"
Emma sighed. If there was one weakness she would admit having, it was for lost little girls just looking for their families. She crouched down, settling on her calves.
"I didn't catch your name, princess," Emma said with a smile. The girl blushed, slid around to bury her face in her mother's designer dress.
But she peeked her face out a moment later, rewarded Emma with a small smile in return.
"I'm Molly," the girl said, still clutching her mother's skirt. "Molly Jones."
