A/N: This so very random idea struck me, while my sister shopped at the mall (which I absolutely hate doing - shopping.), and I sat down in the food court and wrote it out.

-Henry doesn't really exist in this world.

-No magic, AT ALL! (which means no FTL)

-No Charmings either (and no offense to their fans, but I just can't stand them to have them become part of a fic)

-Next chapter will tell you what happened to Daniel, and why Emma & Regina didnt get along.

You wish your life was a song, one that would uplift your senses, nurture your soul, please you and make you feel alive. There was a time when you heard music in any and every thing. The tick tock of the clock, the tap tap of a hammer, the clippity clop of a galloping horse. It was how you kept yourself sane. It was your escape when your mother went on and on about the elaborate plans she had for you.

You would always turn away from her, focus on these little sounds, smiling when they fell in an easy harmony with each other. It was your one escape from reality, that and Daniel. That was your favorite kind of music. The thudding of his heart against your ear, ringing softly, making your senses go alive. You never really realized how those two were connected until you had lost them both. You are never really sure why you lost music when you lost Daniel, but what you do know is that a door closed, taking it all from you.

What you did not expect though, is that door opening again. You don't notice it at first, because the change is subtle, and living all these years without it has made you oblivious to it. But it happens again. You are sitting at Granny's Diner when your mind consciously notices it for the first time. It feels odd in the beginning, your brain can't register this change. Granny and Ruby bickering is nothing new, and you had previously been sick and tired of hearing it, so you trained yourself to ignore it.

But as you sip on your tea (it is not an English thing!), you hear them bickering again. Except this time it is a different kind. The words blur, turning into a soft hum. It is loud (whenever are those two not?), yet it feels melodic. The cogs turning in your head to make even the least pleasant sound into a pleasing bliss, is a familiar notion. One that makes you smile, because 'finally' you think, there is some normality.

"What has got you all smiley faced?" Emma slinks into the stool beside you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Ms. Swan, always a pleasure." You say, and actually mean it, to your surprise of course. Emma just nods as she waits for her order to arrive. You are glad she doesn't notice the tangibility of your words. Or maybe she does, but she chooses to ignore it. Either way you are thankful.

As you continue sipping on your tea, reveling this new-yet-old sensation, Emma's fingers begin to thrum against the counter top. You shake your head slightly, displeased by how out of rhythm it is. Thrumming isn't the hardest thing to do, but the blonde seems to have a knack for messing things up.

An idea strikes. You cradle the mug in your hands, and close your eyes. It takes you a few seconds to amplify the thrumming in your head, making the rest of the sounds in the diner background noise. You individualize each thrum, five in total, and try to pitch them on different levels. It is easier to do, because if not rhythmic, the thrumming does have a pattern. Before you know it, the thrumming is laying itself down into a tempo of its own. It is sweet and simple, yet absorbing. Your smile widens, and you think you could get used to this feeling. The thrumming stops and you groan, an actual audible groan at the loss of music.

As your eyes flutter open you notice two pairs of eyes staring at you. You should care, they are not supposed to see you like this, but you don't. And for the life of you, you can't even be bothered to find the reason.

Ruby clears her throat when she sees you open your eyes, "We were just ah –" She quickly turns to look at Emma, "Here is your cocoa." Placing the mug in front of Emma, she rushes away, almost hitting the shelf.

You just continue smiling, not a mocking kind of smile though. "What is with you?" Emma's voice reveals her so obvious confusion.

You just shrug, "Realization."

"What kind?" she asks not missing a beat.

You turn your head to face her, tilting it as you look at the woman ahead. "Music."

Emma lets out a shaky laugh, "What?" The confusion now not only evident in her voice but also her eyes.

You wet your tongue with your lips, biting on the lower lip contemplating if you should say anything or not. You decide on telling anyway, not like you have a reputation to uphold or anyone even cares. You take another sip of your tea before you say, "Music was my life force, until tragedy struck." You shrug again, as if things like those happened to you more often than they did to others. Well they do, so -. "I used to enjoy it, in every sense and every way possible. It was just so –" You lift your right hand, flailing it around trying to explain what words couldn't. You let it drop when you realize how miserably you are failing. "It was just so electric." You start to zone out into your own world. "It was so vibrant, and I could literally paint my emotions with the notes and chords. It was so fulfilling."

Your eyes focus on Emma's face again, the surprise evident in her features. She stares, literally stares, at you unabashedly. You too don't back down and stare back in competition, but more so to decipher the expression on her face. There is a mix of emotions on her face ranging from confusion to – and you are not really sure if you notice it correctly – admiration. You think maybe you are over thinking the whole admiration look, but you don't want to, because no one has looked at you with such soft eyes for a very long time. And if even humanly possible, you are sure your heart would have been a puddle of goo by now. The thought makes you cringe inwardly.

"Wow." Is all Emma has to offer, and you let out a small genuine laugh.

"Always one with the words, aren't you Ms. Swan?"

Emma comes out of her stupor, "Yea well, I try. Listen I have to go." She says getting up.

"Alright Ms. Swan. Enjoy your day." The frankness of the little chat throws you off, but again you can't care enough to see the eeriness of it all. So you just nod a goodbye as Emma turns to leave. You notice she doesn't move though, instead turning back around to face you.

You turn your gaze towards her. She opens her mouth two or three times to say something, but closes it again. You just look at her, an amused expression on your face, or what you hope is one.

"I was wondering, if, ah, if maybe you know, um, if you like wanted to have coffee or something?" The words stumble out of her, and you are not entirely sure if you have heard her correctly.

"I'm sorry?" You offer.

"Forget about it. It was a lame idea." She hurries through her words, and gets ready to leave. Automatically, your hand shoots up and wraps itself around her wrist to stop her from leaving. You do not know why you did it, and her blunt gaze tells you she is thinking the same. You let go off it just as quickly.

"I would lo-like to." You curse yourself for sounding too desperate, which you shouldn't really.

"Ok, sounds great. I am kind of busy for the next two days. How about I call you when I'm free?" You nod again in agreement, throwing a smile her way, which you are so sure is as repelling as it feels. She just waves an awkward bye, before turning and leaving this time around.

You turn towards the counter again, cradling the mug for the second time in a span of five minutes. What the hell just happened? In your six years of mayor ship and her four years of being a Sheriff, you and Emma Swan have hardly ever gotten along. Sure there are times when you let of off your dislikes for each other, and try to feel as comfortable as possible in each other's company. But this, no, this was a different kind of comfortable. More like the awkward kind.

You had heard about these awkwardly comfortable moments, but never really understood them, until now. As you recall the stories that people have told you about the aforementioned situation, the truth of it all hits you like a ton of bricks. Even though that is metaphorical, the sharp intake of your breath tells you otherwise. It all starts to make sense. The unintended glances, the awkward 'hi's and 'hello's, the ease of small talk and most importantly the music. Oh god the music.

You can't recall a point that answers the how's or when's or why's. To you it seems more like a collection of moments all leading up to this something. What that something is you don't know. But you do know one thing though.

I am so screwed.

A/N: As usual, criticism always welcomed, so are comments and stuff. Hope you enjoy it :D