Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine. If they were, I'd give Dark Swan's eyebrows back. Yikes. All recognizable names belong to OUAT, Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis. The silly dialogue and plot is mine.

As she semi-stumbled through the restaurant's doors, she asked herself for the tenth time that night why she had thought wearing those heels had been a good idea. She usually wasn't this klutz on platforms, but her shift at the station had been insane. If she were being completely honest, instead of dressing up and meeting her boyfriend she'd have paid good money to crawl into bed with her son and sleep for a hundred years.

She caught Walsh's eye at their usual table at the back, the cozy lights behind him making his hair shine like a halo, and she let out a half disappointed-half relieved sigh. Too late to run now.

Letting the maitre take her coat, she made her way towards him, pecking his cheek softly. "Sorry I'm late - things are crazy at the station."

"That case again?" His voice tinged with worry, and she unceremoniously sank on her chair, groaning quietly at the stretch of her sore muscles.

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell they're planning now."

Walsh smiled softly at her over the table. "It's okay. Now, let's get you something to drink and hopefully something a bit more refined than a grilled cheese for a change."

"Hey, don't hate on the grilled cheese," she warned, too tired to even look menacing, even though he caught the threat in her expression, quickly putting his hands up in surrender.

"I'd never. I like my head where it is."

"A really wise attitude that I commend you for."

He raised his glass, inclining his head in acknowledgement and never tearing his eyes from her. "To us."

Gulping loudly, she clinked her wine with his. "To us."

After a quick order - they had come so many times to this place it was difficult not to go for the usual - he reclined on his seat, his lips quirking as he drank her in. "So. Apart from the case from hell at the station, how's the family?"

Her hand automatically flew to her hair - a sign of how the mention of her family sparked the innate urge to tear it out of her scalp. Anna and Krisotff's approaching wedding had turned their quiet lives into a - dare she say - actual nightmare. "Driving me completely nuts. If someone had told me Anna would be this batshit crazy about wedding dresses and the chocolate fondue she wants to have at the reception, I'd have fled somewhere far, far away from here and just showed up for the date." She smiled sadly, shaking her head. "The pre wedding is always a disaster."

She belatedly realized her hand was trembling lightly over her napkin, and she gripped it and set it over her lap because no, just no. She wasn't going to let memories of her own pre-wedding ruin her date.

"Sounds fun," Walsh commented with a laugh.

"Not really. Elsa's way better at handling all of it, I get too fed up when they can't agree on the mantelpieces or the flowers."

(She didn't comment on how it also got to be too much sometimes - how she faked a mental breakdown over Anna's incessant chatter and instead went outside of whatever bridal shop or restaurant they were trying that day because she needed some air, wishing for a cigarette and damning herself for quitting years earlier.) (Three years, actually.) (Not that she was counting.)

"What about your mom?"

That made her genuinely smile, despite her bitter thoughts. "She's having a blast going over the cake planning. It's like they gave her a gift, by hiring her to do that for the reception." She grinned at him over her glass. "My family consists of a bunch of nerds, in case you couldn't tell."

He smiled softly. "Well, I do love your family. Just as I love you."

"Keep it up, and you may find yourself lucky tonight, Mr. Green," she whispered, her foot tapping his softly under the table and giggling at the flush on his cheeks.

Playing footsie in your early thirties was even more entertaining than when in high school.

Meals finished, she was already protesting against the dessert Walsh had ordered for them to share when his face turned serious and she unconsciously straightened in her seat. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something," he announced.

"Okay. Spill."

He fiddled with his tie - one that she had given him for Christmas, actually - and his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped loudly the rest of his wine. "Remember what I said earlier? About loving your family and you?"

That queasy feeling in her gut that sometimes rushed through her when bad news were about to be delivered started at the pit of her stomach, and her hands clasped over her lap. "Yeah."

"Well… Here goes nothing." He span their dessert plate towards her, and the shiny wink from a ring set over the china glinted mockingly at her. She expected herself to make some kind of noise - a surprised gasp, a squeal, anything - but instead sat completely frozen, staring at the diamond surrounded by crême brulée and syrup.

"Emma, I love you, I love Henry, and I love our life together. And if you let me, I'd love to formally be a part of your family."

Her mouth opened, but yet again nothing came out. He looked at her expectantly, the hopefulness that had clouded his expression earlier sobering at her reaction - or lack of thereof. "So. What do you say?"

And finally - finally - she spoke.

"I need a cigarette," she rasped, and fled the restaurant.

(And no, she was not thinking of her first - and until then - only proposal.)

"I have no idea why you insist on leaving your goddamn things all over the place - no wonder you can't find them anywhere when you actually need them."

Killian's answering muttering was becoming exponentially more annoying. "Not helping, love."

"I'm just saying, things would go way smoother if you just did things properly," she pointed out, following him around as he opened and closed drawers, picking stray pieces of clothing from the ground and inspecting their pockets and swearing every time he found himself empty-handed - except for the twenty bill he found inside a jacket.

Lucky asshole.

He turned towards her with a frown. "Oh, so now leaving my keys in the pot by the door is considered 'doing things properly'?"

"Yes," she confirmed haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest. He huffed and turned to his treasure hunt like a madman on a mission.

"Well, maybe I'll add to that list how you should refill the water bottle in the fridge."

She narrowed her eyes, still following him around. "Or lowering the goddamn toilet's lid."

"Or not hogging the blankets like a possessed woman," he tossed over his shoulder as he looked under their bed. Emma gritted her teeth.

"Or showing up at the restaurant at the time we had actually reserved instead of an hour later because someone let Will fucking Scarlet drag him for pints."

"Or letting your best friend borrow our key so she can show up in the middle of the night because she had a fight with Humbert."

"Or screaming at the soccer match like a madman in front of my very impressionable kid."

"Or how your lad asked if I was ever going to pop the question - and it's called football, Swan."

She froze in her tracks, floored to notice that the both of them were breathing raggedly and had found themselves practically screaming at each other's faces.

Even more belatedly, she caught up on what he had just said to her.

"Well, maybe you should do it!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, and he mimicked her.

"Fine! Maybe I will!"

"Maybe you shouldn't!"

"Maybe I won't!"

"Fine by me!"

"Emma," he suddenly said, and her heart stuttered against her ribcage at the sudden nervous edge to his voice and worried lines around his eyes, and she forgot how they'd gotten to the middle of their living room, with Henry's toys and school books at the table and the picture of their first date over the mantle and the music from her laptop still playing from their bedroom.

Because, as it turned out, she only wanted him to ask her one thing.

"What?"

"Marry me?"

And that was it.

Throwing her head back and huffing as loudly as she could, she gave him a hopelessly fake chagrined look and declared the two words that every aspiring fiancé ever wants to hear.

"Ugh. Fine."

And threw herself at him so they toppled on the couch, a shocked gasp of delight and surprise leaving him as she leaned over him, tugging him by the collar of his shirt with a jerk and kissing the hell out of her fiancé. He tasted like coffee and smoke, and she never wanted to let him go.

"Weren't you in a hurry?" she murmured against his lips, her own curving into a smirk as she wiggled over him and not even bothering to hide her satisfied expression at his groan.

"Screw them. It can wait until tomorrow."

She pulled back an inch to eye him, raising an eyebrow defiantly. "Really? I may keep you here."

His groan got muffled against her chest as he nosed the skin over her breasts, sucking it lightly in sloppy wet bites. "Bloody hell."

"Henry's not coming home from soccer practice for a while. We have-"

"-two hours tops, I know." He bit her neck playfully and she giggled - hey, she was engaged, she was allowed to, - tugging his hand in hers and softly biting the tip of his finger in retaliation. He honest to God wheezed quietly, and his voice came out strained. "And it's football, Swan, how many times do I have to tell you?"

She crawled on top of him until she was straddling his hips, hovering over his lying form on the couch. "At least once more," she warned, but couldn't add anything else, as he quickly stood and flipped them until he could pick her up and carry her over his shoulder. She squealed, for once ignoring her usual 'don't bother the neighbors' rule because, hey, she was engaged; and laughed breathlessly as he practically threw her on the bed and proceeded to celebrate their brand new engagement.

(Two hours later, when Henry got home from soccer - football - whatever, - practice, the two of them still a little flushed and with a serious case of bedhair and feeling a little too much like a couple of horny teenagers caught in the act, they decided it was occasion for a second celebration.)

"'I need a cigarette?' Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

Ruby's alarmingly loud screeches combined with the static of her crappy Skype connection - she really had to have a nice chat with her neighbor to check if he was indeed stealing her wifi - was giving her a headache.

"It just slipped out okay?"

Elsa, always the appeaser, shushed Ruby and turned to her - or rather to her screen. "Well, what happened after that?"

"Did you actually smoke one?" Ruby inquired before Emma could answer, and Elsa clucked her tongue.

"Ruby, priorities."

"Don't even. I had to put up with grumpy Swan for months through the withdrawals while you were in Iceland."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So. What happened?"

"Did you run away?" Ruby asked, and Emma visibly winced.

"Ouch. Low blow, Ruby."

"Hey, it's your customized move, don't go blaming me."

Because of course that was what her friends would think happened.

(...nevermind it was what actually, for real happened. That was completely besides the point)

She rubbed her temples tiredly, eyeing the clock on her screen with a frown and wondering when Henry would be home so she could have an excuse to flee this conversation. She knew she had to have it, because best friends share everything and all that, but... yeah. Not really having the time of her life explaining how she had left her boyfriend in a restaurant with an untouched ring on the table as she ran to the nearest open store to buy cigarettes.

Except it didn't exactly go as planned.

"He followed me outside and I, very calmly, told him that he had caught me by surprise and that I had to think about it."

There was a pregnant pause, and Ruby shook her head with a sigh. "I hope he paid or you won't ever be welcome again in that place, and the risotto is to die for."

Emma huffed a laugh, but silently agreed.

"Poor guy," Elsa added biting her lip, and Emma bristled, because of course the bleeding hearts passing as her friends would go all 'awww poor Walsh'.

"Poor guy? What about me? You're supposed to be on my side."

"If you had proposed and he had told you he needed time, we would be comforting you," Ruby stated matter-of-factly.

Plopping further down on her couch - the one where she had pinned Killian down after accepting the lamest proposal ever years before - she hid her face under her palm.

"Has anybody considered I am not ready for this?"

They were silent for a moment, and for a brief moment Emma thought her connection had finally snapped and cut the conversation short, but then she heard Elsa's soothing voice - the one she used when she was trying to reason with her or calm her down. "Of course we do. Come on, Emma, we know this isn't easy for you."

"We're not completely heartless," Ruby added, and Emma peeked from behind her fingers to see them staring apprehensively at her, and that warm feeling that spread through her whenever she realized how lucky she was for having such great - albeit maddening - friends made her burrow her nose in her cushion, hiding a small smile.

"Could've fooled me," she grumped against the cloth.

Ruby winked, stifling a giggle, but Elsa's face remained troubled. "Emma? Is it - I mean - does this have anything to do with You-Know-Who?"

"He has a name, you know," she mumbled, and ignored the look that her friends shared.

"And you cringe every time you hear it, you know."

"No, it has nothing to do with him," she said, resolutely crossing her arms and glaring at them, daring them to contradict her.

(They did.)

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"100% sure?"

"Stop being annoying."

The crackling over the line overpowering the silence once more, they stayed silent, and Emma knew they were waiting for a reaction from her. It was always like this with them: if Emma had something on her mind that she wouldn't admit even under the threat of torture, Ruby and Elsa would always manage to let her ramble and deflect for as long as she wanted until she finally - finally - caved.

And cave she did.

"I had never planned on… on doing this. Again. It just - I didn't even know Walsh was considering it. We're fine as we are right now. Why does he feel the need to swap rings and vows? Why do things have to change? Everything's good as it is. What more is there?"

Ruby pursed her lips, eyeing her consideringly. "Well, what made you want to change things with K-You Know Who?"

Emma sank back on the couch, memories of that day in that very same room flashing in front of her eyes - the excited thrumming through her body at the idea, the anxious anticipation to his question, the pure joy exuding through every cell of her body. "Honestly? I don't even know. It just felt right at the time."

"And with Walsh, it doesn't?" Elsa inquired tentatively.

Emma bit her lip, considering the truth bomb she had just been delivered. "It's not the same. Nothing is the same, I guess."

And it truly wasn't. She had had a long time to come to peace with her time with Killian, with how it all started, grew and finally ended, and the heartbreaking process of trying to purge her feeling for him after they were done. She had had time to compare how her relationship with Walsh differed from hers with her ex husband, how not alike they were, both as individuals and as partners for her and Henry. She had come to the conclusion that different was good, because being with someone who reminded her of Killian wouldn't help her at all. Different was great, different was ace, sign her up; but…

...but this hadn't felt right, and that was just the thing.

She missed the shared glance between her two closest friends through the screen, but was brought back to the present when she saw them waving their hands in the air over their heads. To someone else, they probably looked like idiots. To Emma, they still looked like idiots, but for a good cause.

"Guys, stop it," she protested, but they just ignored her and came closer to their laptop cameras, hands waving in big, sweeping motions. She huffed a laugh.

"I don't need my aura fluffed."

"You definitely do, now shut up and let us do our work," Ruby snapped, and Elsa uh-huhed.

"And it's a virtual aura fluff, so, there."

She made a strangled noise from the back of her throat, letting them go on with it. She'd much rather take something as silly and pointless as having her aura fluffed than hearing encouraging and equally pointless words. Luckily her friends knew that.

"Mom?"

The three of them turned their attention towards the sound, even though only Emma could actually see her son standing at the door, backpack hanging from one shoulder and wet hair sticking to his forehead. "Oops. Preteen presence alert," Ruby declared with a pout. Emma gave her a warning look, shaking her head.

"I'll talk to you later guys."

"Don't forget to wear the clutch I lent you tomorrow night!" Ruby insisted before she logged off, waving her warning away with a blown kiss to the screen. She closed her laptop and looked back at Henry, who had already run to his room to leave his backpack and come back to the kitchen to open the fridge. The kid was growing like a week, all lanky limbs and boney knees, and she mentally reminded herself to go clothes shopping that week. At least his suit for the wedding would actually fit him.

"Hey kid."

Coke can in his hand, he plopped down beside her, taking a sip and offering it to her afterwards. "How was your date?"

"It went… fine," she tried, fingering the edge of the can and avoiding his eyes. She needn't have bothered: her son just laughed under his breath, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"That bad, huh?"

"It wasn't bad," she protested, and to her relief he just shrugged. It was both a welcome and unwelcome reaction, she wondered: there had been a time where Henry had been pushy and worried beyond reason about her love life, especially after what happened with Killian. The fact that he didn't seem to freak out about it anymore could mean two things: one, he was confident about her relationship with Walsh; two, he thought she was hopeless.

She didn't know which one was scarier.

"Grandma called by the way."

"Oh. What did she want?"

"She didn't say."

She frowned. That wasn't like Ingrid - at all. "That's weird."

"Yeah." He finished his coke and slouched back on the couch, this time picking up a fallen cushion and setting it over her legs to use as a pillow. She ran her fingers through his hair, still marvelled at how she had given birth to such a perfect thing.

Fuck Neal and his empty promises, indeed, but at least he had given her Henry.

She kissed the top of his head, picking the remote up from the low table and turning on the TV. She flipped through the channels disinterestedly for a while until the sight of a familiar ship and a catchy soundtrack caught her attention, and she stiffened against her will.

(Pirates of the Caribbean had always been their family thing.)

She also noticed how Henry's breath caught for a moment, and her heart went out for him. It hadn't just been her who had been heartbroken over her failed marriage. She had lost a husband, but Henry had lost a father. "You want me to change it?"

His voice caught. "No, it's okay. It's been a while."

She dropped another kiss, on his forehead this time, and murmured, "I know" before turning up the volume.

And, as was customary in their family tradition, they fell asleep together, the banging metals from the theme music in the credits awakening them with a start before dragging their feet to bed.

Anna bounced up and down on her silver heels when she saw her and Henry stepping into the hall. "Hey, you made it!"

"As if we had any way to miss this," she said, sounding more reproachful than she actually felt. She hugged her sister, kissing her cheek briefly and careful not to ruin her makeup. "You look beautiful."

Someone cleared their throat obnoxiously loud at their right, and she rolled her eyes as she pulled back from Anna. "So do you, Kristoff."

Her future brother-in-law grinned widely. "Thanks, sis." He turned to Henry then, clapping him on the shoulder warmly. "Looking sharp, young man."

Her son shrugged, as if he wasn't really convinced but didn't actually care if he did look fine or not. She smiled fondly. Kids. "Mom said the handkerchief was a must." He scrunched up his nose, and corrected himself. "Well, Ruby made mom say it."

"I'm not the least bit surprised," Kristoff said, sending her a wink over Henry's head. She ignored them altogether, waving them goodbye and maneuvering them through the throngs of people reunited for the rehearsal dinner. She had warned her sister that these things were actually stupid, because no matter how many times you rehearsed something, anything could happen the W day, so why bother?

Anna and Elsa hadn't been really impressed with her.

Oh, well. At least there was lobster and she got to mingle with her friends, family and acquaintances who clearly didn't know how tsop stop drinking for special occasions even if they tried such as Will Scarlet.

Someone poked her side and she jumped, glaring at Graham as he grinned impishly. "You clean up nice, Swan."

She patted her skirt self-consciously and then gave him the once-over, her hand automatically flying to fix his tie with a sharp tug and trying not to laugh at the choking sound he made. "Thank you very much. You don't look half bad yourself."

"Where's your date?" he asked with an expression that said he was aware he was stirring trouble but couldn't help it. Emma rolled her eyes.

"Don't pretend you don't know his name."

"It's not like I care or anything."

"Play nice, Graham." Ruby looped her arm through her boyfriend's, leaning her head on his arm, and Emma had to grit her teeth at the disgustingly spectacle the two were offering. After their scheduled minute of couple-y moony faces, Ruby looked back at her and frowned. "Where is Walsh, though?"

If it were possible, her teeth gritted even harder. "He had some last minute stuff at the shop and couldn't get in time."

Both of her friends canted their heads in a disturbingly similar way at the same exact time. "Ohhhh."

"What ooooh?"

A perfectly penciled eyebrow flew up Ruby's forehead. "I don't know, is this his way of giving you the cold shoulder for turning down his proposal?"

Graham choked on his champagne. "He proposed?" Ruby swatted at his arm at the same time that Emma tried to no avail to make him lower his voice. He ignored them, excitement plastered all over his face. "And you said no?" She was left unable to answer when his arms went around her, hugging her to his chest as he tearfully stated, "I knew you'd make me proud."

She pulled back from him, slapping his arm immediately after. "I didn't technically turn it down, I just asked for some time to think about it."

"Okay. Think about it for a bit with me: No."

She gave him a deadpanned look. "You're hilarious." She sighed, because as much as they made fun of the situation, the reality was that Walsh and a lot of her friends hadn't really clicked.

And that was another huge factor in the 'why doesn't it feel right to say yes to Walsh' big scale of things.

"Look, I know that you don't particularly like Walsh…" she started.

"I am not particularly able to stand the guy, but sure, whatever."

"...but you have to accept that you're biased."

He fake gasped, putting a hand over his chest dramatically. "Emma, you know I'm taken, and I'm most definitely not interested in the wanker."

She couldn't help it - she laughed. "You're an idiot." Pointing a finger in his direction, she threatened, "You should give up while you're at it."

"I just want what's best for you. We all do. And Walsh - I'm sorry, he doesn't seem like he's it for you."

The corner of her lips lit up in a sad smile, Sweet, marshmallow Graham, with his cheesy pick up lines and sweet tooth. They hooked up once in freshman year, but agreed later on that they were better off as friends. It had certainly had their benefits, considering how both of them eventually fell for the other's best friend.

"Maybe there is no it for me. Maybe it's just Henry and me, and someone who is okay with it."

He gave her a look. "That's just sad."

"I'm sad. I'm the Grinch."

He softly pushed her towards the bar. "Go have a drink or something, you're depressing me."

Mockingly saluting him and spinning on her heel, she did just that, opting for a white wine that she had chosen along with Elsa for the reception. She sipped it slowly, savoring it, and went on to try a piece of rolled salmon that was just begging for her to take it. Moaning softly at the taste, she almost missed her mother, who appeared out of thin air in quite the white sparkly number. She gasped as she saw her, her very own established 'I can't believe my baby girl looks this pretty' look, and opened her arms to hug her. "Oh, Emma."

"Mom you look hot. A little too much cleavage, maybe, but… hot."

Looking pleased as punch, she rearranged her hair, but quickly was all business, taking her hand in hers and dragging her towards the least crowded part of the room, at the entrance doors. "I have to talk to you."

Emma frowned. "Is this about what you called me for last night? What is it?"

Ingrid clasped her hands together, pursing her lips worriedly, and alarm bells started ringing in Emma's head. "I didn't want you to freak out, so…"

Emma never found out what came after that, as her senses acted on their own to recognize someone behind her.

First it was his scent - the smell of leather and coffee heavy on the air. Second was the touch of his hand barely touching her, just moving a strand of her hair until his lips were barely hovering over her shoulder. Third was the sound of his voice, as he said in her ear, "Hello, beautiful."

And finally, finally, he stepped around her and she laid eyes on her ex husband after three years of him walking out on her.

(The worst of all?) (Fifth: she could actually taste him on her tongue, even after all of those years.)

Everything slowed down around her, the voices, the low music and the glass clinking drowning into white noise. She could see the mix of emotions swirling in his eyes - hope, regret, lust, longing, wariness, worry. She could only guess what her own face looked like, because as much as she had imagined this encounter in her head night after night, alone in their formerly shared bed, she couldn't for the life of her think of anything to say.

Probably anything except for what she actually said.

"I need to pee."

She had been hiding in the restroom a total of two minutes and thirty six seconds - not that she was counting - when Ruby and Elsa stormed inside. "'I need to pee'? Your verbal diarrhea is starting to worry us, just saying."

"What the hell was that?" Emma said, voice trembling with rage.

"What the hell was what?"

"What the hell is he doing here?"

The door opened, and Emma's heart jumped against her ribcage, panic seizing her as she pictured him getting in to try to talk to her. Instead, Anna sneaked inside, heels clicking against the linoleum as she ran towards them excitedly. "Oh, I thought I saw you guys running here. This is so exciting. What are we talking about?"

Emma's hands flew to her hips as she scowled at her. "About what a backstabbing kind of a monster my sister is for not telling me my ex husband would attend her wedding?"

Anna gave her an affronted look, lips turned down in a pout. "Hey, no badmouthing the bride. Those are the rules."

Emma huffed, covering her face with her shaking hands as she paced around. She walked to the sink and splashed water on her face, imperiously rubbing her cheeks and the back of her neck, ignoring Ruby's protest about her make up. She looked up in the mirror to find Elsa staring worriedly at her. "I promise I didn't know," she said. Ruby nodded.

"Neither did I." Noticing Emma's dubious look, Ruby lifted her arms in despair. "You know I couldn't have kept that truth bomb from you even if I tried."

Finally, Emma's eyes landed on Anna, who for once seemed a bit sheepish. "We just found out yesterday, actually. He never answered our invitation - apparently he didn't see it until he came back to London this past week, and he didn't want us to count with him just in case he couldn't get time off and clear his schedule for this week."

Emma leaned against the back of the sink, fingers gripping the cold porcelain to try to anchor herself in some way after her world had been flipped inside out with just two words. So Killian had been away. She had guessed that much; it wasn't likely for him to have stayed in Boston after the divorce: even if the town was big enough for the both of them, they would have run into each other eventually, and her friends surely would have mentioned it no matter what. She hadn't thought he'd go back to London, though. He had told her more than once how there was nothing left for him there, just memories of a broken childhood, heartbreak and four graves to visit.

Cold tendrils of hurt spread through her chest, quietly making their way to her heart, crushing it with the overwhelming revelation. Did he really need to put that much space between them that he would be tempted to go back there? An entire ocean and some more?

Not even three years of radio silence and the ghost of his presence at their house stopped the pain to radiate at the thought. The only times she had heard from Killian had been when Kristoff would bring a package with a letter from him for Henry on his birthday. Emma had never asked him how Killian managed to get them in time or how he contacted him. She was better not knowing, anyway. The same happened when Henry had asked her if she wanted to read the letter with him: she had declined the offer with a sad smile, telling him to go and open his present and not to worry about her.

She hadn't received a single thing for her birthday, so it wasn't like she expected to find anything for her in the letter.

She kind of appreciated it, actually: knowing that he had something to say to her but choosing to write it instead of confronting her about it before he left would have been too upsetting.

He hadn't missed one of Henry's birthdays since the day he left.

Oh, and the divorce papers. That had been all the only correspondence she and Killian had shared in the past three years.

Nice.

She covered the soft sniffle she could feel clogged in her throat, and cleared her throat. "Let's go back inside."

It had seemed like the best course of action at the time - it'd be frowned upon to keep the bride-to-be and her friends in the restroom for the rest of the evening, after all - but she almost ran back inside to sit in a stall until they got her out by her hair when she saw her son with Killian. They were sitting with Graham and Kristoff, who kept sending amused glances to each other as they observed Henry. Her son couldn't stand still as he apparently told Killian every single thing he had missed since he had been away.

(If that was it, then he had a lot to cover.)

She stood back, drinking in the sight of her son and her ex husband laughing and smiling at each other, and the crushing realization that it had been a long time since she had seen Henry this happy struck her hard and fast and she swayed on her feet. As if on cue, Killian noticed her, and made to get up and go to her, as he always did.

(As he used to do, at least.)

Stepping on the tiny part of herself that insisted on letting him come and talk to her and put his arm around her or whatever it was that he wanted to do, she shook herself and weakly put a hand up, motioning him to stay where he was. To his credit, he did, and Emma told herself that it was better this way.

New plan: maybe not stay in the restroom for the rest of the night, but stay as far away from his table as possible.

Easy as pie.

That didn't mean she couldn't eye him up and down, taking note of the lean muscles of his back in his suit when he moved, the rough stubble and piercing blue eyes she had stared at so many times before she fell asleep, right after she woke up in the morning, tangled together in their bed.

That also didn't mean she didn't peek at his reunion with her friends–his friends–their friends, she guessed. She hid a smile as she caught Elsa's icy demeanor when he went to hug her, but didn't fault her for melting a bit when he finally wrapped his arms around her. Ruby's round wasn't so different: she called him a son of a bitch, punched his arm and went for the hug, which he laughingly reciprocated because that was how you dealt with Ruby Lucas and Killian knew better than to protest.

All in all, her plan was working: she kept close to her mom - who thankfully had already greeted Killian and at seeing Emma's expression didn't even try to suggest she went back to her friends - and Belle, and made conversation with whoever crossed paths with them as long as they didn't seem like they wanted to discuss the fact that her ex-husband had miraculously appeared out of thin air.

For as successful as her plan to avoid him was turning out to be, she couldn't get past the chance to get away the first time she could, which prompted her to escape to the balcony where thankfully nobody had sneaked out to. She swept her gaze over it, taking in the polished rocky bannister and sculptures framing the French doors.

Once upon a time, she'd have escaped to a place like this to smoke with Killian. They'd have laughed at people's fashion choices, and taken pictures posing next to the nude statues. They'd have laughed until they were drunk on plain joy.

A frown touched her lips. Things changed, indeed.

"I thought you quit?"

...And some things didn't, apparently.

She looked over her shoulder to find Killian standing behind her, hands stuffed inside his pants pockets and looking curiously at her hand. She waved her fingers to show him that she wasn't, in fact, holding a cigarette. "I did."

He frowned, but chose not to comment on that. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Trying to avoid you. To no avail, I guess," she added resentfully, turning back to the view of the city lights in front of her.

He stepped closer to her, and she shivered against her will, even if she was not cold at all. Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing how his presence affected her, she pretended to analyze her nails, silently commending Ashley's help for her manipedi earlier that week and staring at her polish as if she thought it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. Killian leaned casually against the bannister, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one in that annoyingly graceful way of his. "You had to know I would come to talk to you."

"The radio silence from the past three years gave me pause."

The words tasted like poison on her tongue, the resentment and hurt of three entire years biting and cruel. Killian's sigh was quiet, and he came to stand at her side, hand mere inches from hers. "Emma…"

"Don't 'Emma' me."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his black hair, making it stand up even more than usual. "I just wanted to explain."

"You're three years late for that, Jones."

He stepped back as if he had slapped her, and his expression hardened. "Jones, is it?"

"You got a problem with that?" she challenged, and he seemed to deflate all of a sudden, letting all his weight drop on his hands as he leaned on the balcony.

"I guess yes."

"Too bad."

"Swan." As she stubbornly kept staring daggers at her nails, he snorted and flicked a few ashes off the end of his cigarette. "God, but I missed your grumpy face."

"I don't have a grumpy face."

His lips pulled into that damn smirk of his. "You do. You furrow your brows and your lips do that thing–it's too damn cute."

She realized a beat later what he was doing - baiting her to get a reaction out of her. She gritted her teeth. "Don't."

"I didn't want to leave you." He paused, and added, "You or Henry."

"And yet you did, with no explanation. The only word I've heard from you after all this time were the divorce papers signed back. Do you even know how that feels?" She didn't say the words out loud, but the rest was as clear as a bell in the silence hanging between them. After everything I've told you about my childhood, my past? The foster homes? Neal?

His eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "It wasn't my intention." She just choked back a laugh in response, arms bracing against her chest as if by holding herself that way she'd keep all the hurt he'd inflicted inside, unable for him to see.

"It never is. I'm just someone else's collateral damage, every goddamn time."

"Emma…" he started, but someone from the doors called her name at the same time.

"Emma?"

She let out a breath, both relieved and a little disappointed that the moment had been broken. No matter how painful the last three years had been for her and the sworn oath not to take any of Killian's shit anymore in case he ever showed up again, there was no way of denying that she wanted to hear whatever he had to say. She had spent too many nights wondering what had driven him away - if it had been something she had done, if it had been just him, if there was something inherently broken in her that made everybody slip away no matter how hard she tried to keep them close.

When she turned, she gasped at the sight of Walsh taking in the scene before him with a confused frown.

"Walsh," she said, her voice coming out a little too breathless for her liking. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes went from her crossed arms in protective stance to Killian's hands right by hers on the balcony, and he raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Perfectly okay. Just taking some air, catching up," she reassured him, speaking with more confidence than she felt. Walsh gave her a look, and she subtly shook her head, silently asking him to drop it. To her surprise, he not only did just that, but stepped outside to join them, offering a hand in Killian's direction.

"I don't think we know each other. I'm Walsh Green, Emma's boyfriend."

Killian's eyes glinted and Emma had to suppress a groan at the childlike joy in his face. He took Walsh's hand, shaking it firmly with a little too much enthusiasm. "Nice to meet you. The name's Killian Jones - Emma's ex husband."

"Oh." Walsh said in surprise, stepping back from him. For a moment he hesitated, and then he shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shook his head. "I didn't know you were attending the ceremony. I thought Emma said you disappeared on thin air."

"Clearly, I didn't. I was just abroad," Killian assured him, cool as a cucumber. "And what can I say. I'd hate to miss an old friend's special day."

"I'm sure they're delighted to have you back," Walsh commented testily, still eyeing Emma as if her current dismayed expression was proof enough of how fake his words were. "Are you staying for long?"

Killian shrugged, but his eyes lingered on Emma. "I still don't know. I have to figure some things out," he said, extinguishing his cigarette.

"Sure." As if that concluded their exchange, he turned to Emma, his hand setting over her hip and pulling her towards him in the most obvious Macho Move she had ever seen in her life. From the way she could feel Killian's burning stare, it was working seamlessly. "Emma, I think Anna was asking for you when I got here–she seemed pretty anxious."

"Shocker," both Emma and Killian intoned at the same time, and the corner of her lips lifted up in surprise at the sudden memento of their former camaraderie. Before she could reflect on the way Killian's own face lit up, she swiveled back, pecking Walsh's cheek and a muttered "I should go".

With one last look in Killian's direction, she fled out of the balcony, back into the crowd in search of her sister.


"So, that was Killian," Walsh commented that night after he had driven her and Henry home. She had invited him for a while, because, as it turned out, she felt weirdly guilty after the events of the night. Which was, of course, completely stupid because she had done nothing wrong and it wasn't her fault Killian fucking Jones had decided it was the best time to suddenly pack his bags and come back to Boston, but still. She felt guilty. And worried.

Thus, Walsh sitting at her kitchen table nursing a glass of milk.

She folded her arms across her chest and nodded curtly because really, there wasn't anything else to say.

"I didn't expect him to be so..."

"Annoying? Rude? Full of himself?"

He chuckled, shaking his head at her. "I was gonna say puppy eyed, but those aren't too far gone to be fairly honest. The guy does have a considerable ego."

(Emma's mind did not go to other things of Killian's that were considerable.)

"He is a master at the puppy eyes," she finally conceded, and stood up to fix herself a bowl of cereal because that was what Emma Swan did when she was nervous or upset: she stuffed herself with cereal.

"He looks…heartbroken. Which is surprising, considering he's the one who left."

She honest to God didn't know what else to say but "Yeah" at that. She valiantly focused on clearing the counter away after filling her bowl with the cereal and milk, and picking up her spoon, she sat across from him.

"How did you two meet, anyway?"

With a tired sigh, she let her forehead touch the edge of the table, asking for patience. Henry, apparently unaware of the mounting tension in the room, stepped out from his room and sat down beside her, stealing her spoon and licking some leftover cocoa. "Don't you know? They hated each other at first!"

"Henry…" she warned, but her son went on like he hadn't heard her.

"He was uncle Kristoff's friend and they met while mom was in college, but they despised each other."

Walsh's expression was carefully guarded, but she'd say he looked almost... amused. "Really?"

"Yeah, but then one day they made up and became friends and then they started dating. Killian says he finally won her over, but mom always rolled her eyes and insisted there was nothing better around so she stuck with him, but I don't believe her."

She dropped her face in her hands once more, but peeked through her fingers at Walsh, who kept smiling in her direction, albeit a bit tightly in her opinion.

She couldn't blame him.

"Neither do I," he finally told Henry, who smiled at him and kept playing with her spoon. She breathed heavily, stood from her stool and came up behind him, taking the bowl from him and ignoring his groan of protest.

"Storytime's over, kid. Bed."

There must have been something in her voice, because he didn't insist. He kissed her cheek and then rounded the corner to pat Walsh's back before leaving for his bedroom. "Good night Walsh."

"Good night buddy, see you tomorrow."

Swiping the counter with a wet rag and clearing out their impromptu night snack, she busied herself for a couple of silent minutes around the kitchen. Walsh, for his part, finished his milk and stood up to drop the glass on the sink.

"I could stay if you want me to," he suggested, and she sighed wearily, passing a hand through her curls.

"We'll be fine, and you have to wake up early and go change to your apartment."

He followed her around until he was behind her, his hands going to her hips. She turned in his arms, her own snaking around his neck. He was almost tentative in his touch as he held her, and she bit her lip, the guilt she had felt earlier coming back with a passion. "I don't mind as long as you want me here."

"You're cute," she declared, grinning softly at him as her hand played with the hair at the back of his neck, and he gave her an affronted look.

"Just what every boyfriend wants to hear." The edge in his expression came back, and he searched her eyes worriedly. "Are we okay?"

She met his eyes, and slowly leaned in to brush her lips with kiss, her heart stuttering at his relieved sigh. "We are okay," she whispered, and he smiled against her mouth, nuzzling her neck as he hugged her.

If only she could believe it herself.

(it's been soooooo long since i posted something on ffnet guys...! but for multichapters, even if brief as this story's gonna be (probably a three part i'm guessing) i tend to come back, even if the layout and posting makes me wanna tear my hair off. in fact i have posted other stories in my archive on our own page under the same username, for the peeps who asked me via PM if i was still writing for cs and ouat :D) (anyway kudos to florence for the title, cee for the betaing, divorced!au tropes for existing, the whole shebang)