Title: The Right Side of the Wrong Bed
Author: robinsparkles14
Rating: R for sexytimes
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Pairing: SwanFire (EmmaxBae)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Basically a big giant headcanon
A/N: This fic was not voluntary. It happened without me, I swear. I was like "No, Robin, don't do it!" but then my brain was like "You have to or I will never be at peace!" So. This happened. The title is stolen from Ed Sheeran's song, "Drunk," so do not overestimate my creativity. If you have not seen promos, pictures, etc. this contains spoilers for "Tallahassee" Also, if you have read my other fic, "To Never Forget" then you will notice similarities in the two. I love that story so I did incorporate some stuff from it into this.
~xx~
The car whips around another sharp corner and Emma exhales loudly, stepping on the gas harder. The cops are far behind her now, but she is still speeding like they are right on her heels. It is a tactic she has learned in her thieving experience: You can never get too comfortable.
Emma looks behind her shoulder. No one is there, and the wailing sirens are long since passed. She lets off on the gas pedal just a bit. This car is nowhere near anything she has dreamed of. It is old, rusted, and yellow. It is also a bug, and Emma had never wanted a bug. Still, as far as stolen cars go, it is good enough.
"Oh, God!" She yells, swerving to the side, off the street and onto the sidewalk. This is just perfect. Thief she may be, but Emma Swan is not a murderer, and a crazy man has just stepped of the curb into the road. Emma slams on the brakes and puts the car in park right there on the sidewalk (which is probably a horrible decision given that it could get her a ticket and therefore lead to other things, but she has more important things to worry about.)
She gets out of the car and slams the door behind her before narrowing her eyes at the man in the street.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" She demands, "You are going to get yourself killed!"
He raises his eyebrows and gives her a lopsided smile, making his way over to her. "Sorry," he says, "I didn't have much of a choice. You were speeding like your life depended on it. Had to get your attention."
Emma rolls her eyes. "And you couldn't think of a better way to do it than risking your goddamn life!?"
He laughs and stands behind her, placing his hands on her waist. "What do you care if I risk my life, Emma?"
Her breathing becomes heavy. "Of course I care!" She says breathily, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
He laughs again. "That's not very healthy, you know. An innocent young girl caring too much for an old...monster."
"You know how far I am from innocent, and I know how far you are from being old and monstrous."
"You hardly know me, Emma."
"You know me even less!" She challenges.
He snickers like that is the most hilarious thing he has ever heard. "Please," he says.
She latches onto his arm and pulls him toward the passenger door of the car. "Shut up and get in the car, Neal." Emma instructs aggressively. She does not like to say his name, mostly because she knows that he is lying about it. Emma can tell when people are lying, and she knew instantly that 'Neal Cassidy' was a phony name.
He does as he is told, and in moments, Emma is on the drivers side, driving the actual speed limit down the street. She is trying not to smile, but Neal always makes that hard. He treats her like a breakable treasure-one that he is determined to fix. She likes that about him.
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't be stealing anymore," he scolds.
Emma snorts. "We did, but only when you do the same."
"That's not fair."
"Of course it's fair!"
It is, too. One thing that Emma finds weird about Neal is that he is a thief, just like she is, but he wants her to be good. She tries to let him know that it is a completely lost cause, but he is convinced otherwise, claiming he can make an "honest woman" out of her. Right. Neal has no idea of her pathetic orphan life or all the people she has hurt. He does not know that she is as far from an "honest woman" as one could possibly be.
She asks him why he refuses to be honest and good himself, if he thinks it's so wonderful, but he claims that honesty and goodness were taken from him long ago.
"What do you mean by that?" Emma had asks him when he explained this to her.
"Love is what makes us honest. When what you love is ripped from you, your honesty and goodness follow."
She had not asked him to explain. The mystery intrigued her. She wanted to keep digging into who he is herself. "Well, in that case, I should be as bad as they come. I have never loved a person in my life."
"Don't you see, Emma?" Neal had said, "That is why there is still hope for you."
Emma does not believe there is any hope for her. Once a thief, always a thief Neal can only do so much.
Emma parks the car in the alleyway behind the apartment complex. Neal smiles at her.
"You first, milady" he says.
Emma rolls her eyes behind her glasses and kicks the door of the car open, her boots make the water beneath them splash up. She inhales, feeling the water enter her lungs. Emma really hates the absurd humidity in Tallahassee. She would like to leave, really, but she cannot imagine going anywhere else.
It is because of Neal, which is completely pathetic and childish, but without him she has no idea what to do anymore. The bastard has stripped her of her independence, and yet she still refuses to have any sort of distaste for him.
Maybe it is because Neal represents everything she wants to be. He is so brave, so kind, and he cares about her. Emma has never been any of these things. She has always been scared and immature, unable to grow up and start her life because she is so convinced she cannot until she finds her family.
Neal never talks about his family, and Emma does not ask. She assumes he will tell her in time where he is from, his story, and why he is in Tallahassee. She had told him more than she has ever told anyone, so it would behoove him to return the favor.
They walk into the apartment complex, hand in hand, oblivious to the world and simply content with each other. It is a feeling Emma has searched for her whole life, and Neal is the only person who has been able to give it to her. There is just something about him...something familiar and perfect. He reminds her a bit of herself.
He reminds her of the family she was supposed to have.
~xx~
He tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles that smile-the one that makes her forget everything. And in a instant, he is kissing her softly, but eagerly. It is intoxicating.
But Emma is not ready for this. Not with a man she hardly knows. Not here, now, on this couch. She has lasted this long without giving into temptation, and she refuses to give in without understanding him more. How much she wants it is irrelevant. She has much more at stake here.
"Wait...Neal..." She pants. He lets her go, but keeps his hand on her shoulder, afraid to release her completely.
"What? Are you okay?" He asks her.
She sits up a little straighter and pushes her glasses further up her nose. "Yes...I just...it's been six months...and I want this...but I don't know you, I-"
He shushes her by pressing a finger to her lips gently. "Shh! You know me plenty, Emma."
"No! I don't! You won't even tell me your name!" The statement comes out sharper than she had meant for it to, but at least she knows now that she is past the point of no return.
"My name? It's Neal, you know that!" He is such a liar. She can tell just from the tone of his voice.
"Oh, shut up, we both know that's bullshit!" Emma snaps.
"I-"
"Tell me!"
He exhales sharply and glares at her. "You would never believe me if I told you who I am. Trust me."
Emma tosses her hands into the air. "I'm not asking you to tell me who you are. I just want to know your name."
He closes his eyes, and he and Emma sit in silence for a long moment. She wants to get back to kissing him, but she cannot take his lies any longer. Even if the mystery is wonderfully scary at times, at this point it is purely frustrating.
"It's Baelfire," he mutters, "Bae, is what my father called me."
And that is when Emma sees his wall start to crumble. Simply by telling her his name, she has learned a million new things about the man she has been rooming with for six months. When he spoke of his father, she could hear the hurt in his voice. His father had hurt him. Emma might never know why, but at least she has something to understand more of now.
She smiles at him, though he is looking down, ashamed of giving into her. She places a finger beneath his chin and lifts his face to hers, resuming what he had originally started. She kisses him slowly, and more deeply than any time before. She knows what is to follow now. She has imagined it for quite some time.
He lays her down on the couch, his lips move down her neck and she sighs. She loves when he touches her. He is so much more experienced than her with this, and yet was willing to wait for her to be ready. It is another reason Emma likes him so much. Baelfire. It is definitely a stranger name than any other she has heard, but it is honest; that much she can tell. And really, honesty is all she has ever wanted from him.
Emma can feel his hands sliding underneath her dress, his fingertips grazing the inside of her thighs so softly. Wet heat builds at her center and she moans when his finger pulses there through her cotton underwear. She moves her face to kiss him again while simultaneously shifting underneath him, so as to make it easier for him to get her underwear off. She feels the wetness against her skin as he slides them down her legs.
She has never been so desperate. She has always been so tough...so independent and strong. It had become obvious that Nea-Baelfire had changed her, but this goes beyond that. He has captured her soul, forcing her to cling to him hopelessly. Emma has never been emotionally attached to anyone, having grown up without her parents. Baelfire is the first person to make her feel like she means something. Having his lips move in harmony against hers while their hips rock against each other, the skirt of Emma's dress now just above her bellybutton, intensifies this realization. Emma Swan has never felt wanted by anyone, ever, and yet here he is, holding her as if she is the only thing left in the world to hold.
Her nimble fingers hold the button of his jeans. She tugs on it, trying to get it undone without taking her mouth away from his. He pants into her mouth and moves his hands to assist her, unzipping them quickly before undoing the button. Emma pushes them down. She is terrified, but she has never felt more ready for anything.
Emma's knowledge of this is less extensive than the ordinary eighteen year old. Romance novels were not exactly just lying around at the orphanage, and sex-ed was hardly helpful. All she really knows came from kids she would hear gossiping in the hallways of her high school. And seeing as how she did not really talk to anyone, even that was limited.
Still, she never imagined it would be so short. In Emma's mind, sex should be a long event, something magical and perfect. All she got here was maybe the magic part, the part she knows she has become completely attached to him forever. However it is far from perfect, and even further from any sort of landmark event.
It is a quick fuck on the couch, which is all Emma Swan is worth anyway.
He thrusts into her, and though having him fill her this way is amazing and strange, she cries out from the pain, her hands gripping his thick, dark chocolate colored hair. His lips move to her ear and he shushes her softly. She whimpers, not exactly because of the pain, but more because she is so vulnerable to him in this moment and he is the one with all of the control. He thrusts again, and it is far less painful than the first time.
"Are you...are you alright, Emma?" he pants into her ear.
She pulls at his hair again, feeling the throbbing sensation in her nether-regions as so prominent and whimpers "Yes! Yes, keep going, please," she begs.
He does as she instructs, his thrusts becoming closer together in time as she grows tighter and tighter around him. She can feel how incredibly close she is to the edge of this, to finding some sort of release. With each thrust he makes, she moans and calls out his name until finally, he spills his seed into her and her walls collapse while she screams out underneath him.
The feeling is unlike anything she has ever experienced. It feels like she is falling, and yet she is higher above anything in the universe. Thoughts are meaningless, as is everything else she has ever experienced in her life. Baelfire has taken everything from her, and she could not thank him enough for it.
He is yelling her name as well, the sounds clashing against each other and echoing around the room. Emma had never imagined that anyone on this earth would find in them the desire to be screaming her name through ecstasy. And yet somehow, she had found that. Been given it, really, since meeting him was not something she had ever been looking for.
When the light fades and silence ensues, Emma still has her arms looped around Backfire's neck. Her head is laid back on the arm of the couch and his resting atop her chest.
Anyone who saw it would never think of it as a perfect moment-honestly, Emma does not even know if she believes it is-but perfection hides beneath layers of what may look wrong from the outside. What Emma has with Bae seems so far from what any sane person would want, but she has it now, and would never trade it for anything.
Perfection is ridiculous, really. It is subjective between people and really unachievable for that very reason. But this is Emma's perfection, and she will never see it as anything less than that.
~xx~
She is lounging on the sofa when he returns, biting her lip and digging her nails into the skin of her arms. She is completely pale, and looking like she has seen a ghost. She is not watching TV or listening to anything. She just sits, terrified and worried about some mysterious conundrum.
Bae tosses his bag high into the air and walks up beside her. "Hey," he says shyly, his hands buries in the pockets of his jeans, "Are you alright?"
She does not say anything.
"Emma?" He tries again, "Em, are you alright?"
She shakes her head, which is sort of a start.
"What's wrong?"
She shifts her position on the couch (she is sitting so oddly, her hands behind her and her back leaning against them) and swallows hard. "I don't know if I should say," she whispers.
He sits down next to her. "C'mon," he says, "It can't be that bad."
She stares up at him. He sees the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm late," she says, so softly it is not even there.
The color drains from his face instantly and a million thoughts race through his mind. A family here, with Emma. The family he never got to have, thanks to his father's stupidity. Or maybe moving somewhere much better than Tallahassee. Somewhere with trees and forests that reminded him of home. A place their child could enjoy as he had, with a father who would never give him up for anything.
It is an amazing fantasy, but one that can never happen. As much as he wishes it, Emma cannot be everything for Bae. So he settles on telling her the last thing to cross his mind: "That's alright, it probably doesn't mean anything. It happens a lot, to a lot of girls. And it's only a few days. You have nothing to worry about."
Emma blinks at him. "It's not just a few days," she presses.
"How long is it?"
"Four weeks," she chokes out. His expression goes wild, morphing into something completely unreadable. Emma starts talking faster, "I'm so sorry, Baelfire! I was worried so I stole...I mean..." He is so distant he does not even scold her for stealing today, "I got a pregnancy test, and-"
She does not want to cry in front of him, and he can see that. Instead she finally takes her hands from behind her back and shows him it. A pregnancy test, with two pink lines across it. He stares at it and she drops her head into her hands.
"I'm so sorry, Bae," she tells him. It is the most sincere apology he has ever heard, and it is for something that is not even her fault.
"Oh...Emma," he breathes.
She look at him out the corner of her eye, though her head is still resting on her knees. She is crying now, and he can see the tears soaking into her jeans. "What?" She asks.
"I don't mind this," he assures her.
She lifts her head slightly and blinks at him. "You...you don't?"
"Of course not. You're amazing, Emma. I want a child with you."
"But...I'm so young. Why waste your time on some kid?"
It is such a stupid question. He would think that after all this, she would know that he thinks so much more of her than being "some kid." He kisses her on the forehead once before cradling her face in his hands and pushing her tear-stained hair away. "Because you mean everything to me."
~xx~
The room is cold and Emma's arms are covered in goosebumps, even under the blanket. Baelfire had bought her the blanket after hours of listening to her complain about the ridiculous temperature of the apartment, and threatening to steal blankets if she did not end up with some. He had returned with this one about a week ago, throwing it at her face playfully before telling her stomach what a little nag it's mother is. Emma had given him a not-so-nice look for that comment.
Doctor's visits have been few and far between. Bae had a job back in Portland, one that caused him to leave Tallahassee on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and on the weekend, but it is not incredibly high pay, and you cannot steal an ultrasound very easily. Emma has gone twice. By herself because Baelfire had been out of town and it was the only time he could get her in. However twice was enough to let her know that she is having a boy. She can just picture him. Dark hair like his father, with green eyes and medium-sized features. The idea sounds like perfection to Emma. She wants no crazy traits to come through to her son from her parents or Baelfire's. She wants him to be her and Baelfire, with no interference from anyone else.
Baelfire swings open the door to the apartment, tossing his stuff up in the air dramatically, as he always does. He then sighs heavily and turns to Emma. "Hey," he tells her, the same nervous way he always does. It makes her feel strong, like she has turned the lion into a foolish schoolboy in love.
She rests her hands atop her stomach. She is seven months pregnant now, and definitely showing. Baelfire likes that. He likes talking to their baby and touching Emma's belly, though neither of them have decided on a name yet. Or rather, decided to share it, in Emma's case.
Baelfire had given her a couple ideas, but they were all pretty much the same.
"How about Richard? Randall? Rumford?" He had asked her. Emma had not been impressed.
"No...those don't seem right." She said, and saw his face fall a little. Apparently naming their son something with an 'R' was more important than she had presumed originally.
Either way, Emma already has a name in mind, she just does not plan on telling Baelfire until the due date. Keeping him in the dark is a new thing, since usually he's the one doing it to her.
Baelfire walks over to Emma and smiles, sitting down next to her.
"It's still a f-fucking ice box in here." She informs him, her teeth chattering as she does so.
He laughs at her and wraps his arms around her shivering form. She rests her head on his shoulder and sighs.
"Did you feel better today?" He asks her.
She nods. "Yeah."
"Hm." He mumbles. Emma snuggles up against him. It is moments like this that she loves. Just being with him, when nothing else in the world matters. Because for the most part, he has become the whole of her life, and she likes it that way more than she is willing to admit.
"Emma?" He whispers.
"Hm?"
"When are we really going to do this?"
"What?"
"You know. Everything. Get married and buy a cute little house in the suburbs. Have a real life together."
"You don't want that." Emma says.
"You don't know what I want."
He picks her up from the couch and they are standing in the room, in a position that makes it look like they're dancing. Emma's eyes bore into Baelfire's and she says. "Okay. Tell me what you really want."
He stays frozen, only his lips moving when he says, "What I really want is you."
Emma knows she should not believe him, but she wants to so badly it hurts. "Maybe," she offers, "But you can't have me. Not seriously."
"Why not? I think you'd make a great Mrs. Cassidy. It's a good name."
She laughs softly. "You told me Emma Swan was a good name."
"Yeah," he admits, "But I like Emma Cassidy better."
Emma smiles at the ground. Truthfully, she likes it better too. But it cannot be that easy. She still has the police on her tail all the time, and he is always gone. It can't work. "Baelfire. You know it will never be that simple."
Silence ensues. And there is silence because both of them know exactly how true the statement is, but hate having to admit it. This little fairytale they have created, where the world is nonexistent and everything simply revolves around Baelfire and Emma is the only thing providing any true happiness for either of them. Admitting that at some point it will end and that they will be forced to let go is devastating. They choose to drag this out because if they are not together, their reasons for being on this earth are scarce in quantity.
Emma sighs and looks away. "We need a better story, don't we?"
He breaks the silence awkwardly, throwing his head back and laughing. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure our son won't be very impressed to hear that you stole my car and then I took you out drinking underage."
"Don't forget the part where we became partners in crime."
"And that you were only 17 years old so until last week it wasn't even legal for me to be kissing you."
"And that you still tell me nothing about yourself."
"And that both of us were completely alone."
Emma looks right into his eyes, smiling and nodding. They both just bask in the patheticness for a long moment. "Yeah," Emma mutters, "That's a pretty shitty story. You got a better one?"
He grins and nods. "Yeah. How about...it was the summer after high school ended for you. You were working in some 24 hour diner and I would come there every day and talk to you.
"Oooh, I like that. Let's make you a firefighter, too, so that you seem more heroic. And I'll be the previous prom queen, so that I seem more pretty and girlish." Emma offers.
Bae gives her a snap-point. "That's perfect! And we need something else...some kind of symbol. I mean, every story needs a memorable detail."
"Pumpkin pie!" Emma says loudly, jumping up, "You'd come into the diner every day and ask for pumpkin pie!"
"I like that! But you never had any, and I'd always complain to you!"
"But every day you'd still come back."
He smiles at her. "Yeah. I would."
She nods. "Yeah. That works. Definitely a good love story."
He winks at her. "Better than the original, I'd say. So when our future son asks me how I met his mother, that's what I'll tell him."
"You'd better! I think he'd run away if he heard the real story."
~xx~
The Wal Mart down the street is really the only place Emma has not been busted for shoplifting at, which is why she spends a ridiculous amount of time there. Especially now, when her pregnancy has practically made her ADHD and she feels desperate to get out of the freezing apartment as much as possible.
She has about twenty dollars on her, which is a lot for Wal Mart, and does not intent on stealing anything. Actually, she is here for baby clothes, and it seems an immoral thing to steal.
Obviously, a baby shower was never in the cards. Neither Emma nor Baelfire has any family around, and Emma has zero girlfriends, so it would have been a huge waste of time. Instead, she had scraped together what money she could find and marched down to Wal Mart.
The baby will be here in a month and a half, tops. Emma knows how close she is to the end of this. She feels heavy all the time and, really, she is ready for it to be over.
After picking out some justifiable garments (blue things, only three of them, since it is all 20 dollars can afford and she still has some time.) she checks out and walks around to the alley where she had parked Baelfire's car.
But the car is gone. And it it's place are four police cars.
Emma freezes. She is ready to run back inside, but she knows how caught she is. However, there is no telling whether or not these people are here for her. For all she knows, this is just a big misunderstanding and they thought the car belonged to some serial killer and they had the wrong girl.
With that hope, Emma walks toward the end of the alleyway, the bag of clothes in front of her stomach and a hopefully natural look upon her face.
One of the cops whispers to another and they both stare at Emma as she walks by. Her breathing becomes heavy and acting natural is becoming harder and harder because she is so certain they know everything she has done. She is sure that they are here to take her away, and she cannot have that happen. Not now, when she has to be there for Baelfire and for her son. Getting arrested was not even the real fear. She is more worried for her family, because she knows that she has to be there to protect them.
She takes one hand away from the shopping bag and reaches into her purse for her tiny, cheap cell phone. She is close to where the cops are standing now, and quickly sends a text to Baelfire.
The police are here and they might be looking for me. Don't know what to do, I need you.
She tosses the phone back into her purse carefully, so as not to look nervous and frantic, but every single police officer is staring her down and she wants to crumble onto the ground and cry. She is ready to beg for their mercy. She is ready to tell them she'll return everything she ever stole and pay for what is already gone.
She is not, however, prepared to have her bag of baby clothes ripped from her hands.
"Put your hands up!" a police officer yells at her, and before she can even blink, she is staring right at the shooting end of a gun.
Emma does as she is told, blinking rapidly behind the thick lenses of her glasses.
"You're under arrest! Possession of stolen goods! You have the right to remain silent!"
The right to remain silent? She is a pregnant eighteen year old. Staying silent is not a likely outcome for this situation.
"I-I don't have any stolen good! I bought those!" she nods down at her ruined bag of baby outfits. Seeing them there, destroyed by these people, brings hot angry tears to her eyes.
"Don't talk! Anything you say can and will be used against you!" Emma takes a step back, "You are Emma Swan, are you not?"
Emma nods, which is probably a horrible idea. But she has a feeling that lying to the authorities will not result in a better way.
"You have been reported as being in the possession of a stolen vehicle. We have confiscated the vehicle and will be escorting you back to the station for further questioning," the cop says gruffly. He says it like it is nothing. Like he is not ripping her life apart as he does so.
"That car...I...no, you don't understand!" Emma pleads, "That car belongs to my boyfriend, Neal Cassidy! It's...please...you can't do this to me!"
Their faces do not change. How can they not see she is broken? How can they not find it in themselves to forgive her?
"Please," she whispers, though it comes out more like a squeak, "I need to get home. I'm...I'm only eighteen, and I'm pregnant, too. I need to be home for my boyfriend and my son. Please. Please let me go. I promise, I will never steal anything again. Ever."
At this, she sees a flicker of sadness race across their features, and she hopes that they are understanding her. But the look disappears, and it is like it was never even there to begin with.
"Miss Swan, it is our job to escort you to the police station. You have been reported as a thief and we must act upon that as courtesy to the victim."
"Victim?" she asks quizzically, "No one has been victimized."
"You stole a car. Someone was victimized by that."
The color drains from Emma's face as cold, hard realization washes over her. No. No. It is not possible. It cannot be possible. Baelfire would never...never do this to her. Especially with her pregnant with his child. Especially when she is completely lost without him. He is not capable of this. No one is capable of inflicting that much pain.
But it is so clear from the slightly sympathetic look of the police officer's face that she is not simply jumping to conclusions.
"No," Emma whispers, but the word does not really come out, "No! Who is this victim!? Who told you to find me!?"
The cop shakes his head at the ground. "I cannot disclose that information to you, Miss Swan."
Emma's hands start to shake and the angry tears she had been holding back spill over. Before she can even think or breathe or contemplate this, she lunges at the police officer, pinning him against his own squadcar and screaming.
"TELL ME IF NEAL DID THIS! WHY WOULD HE FUCKING DO THIS!?"
The other cops start pulling on Emma, but for being as weak and pregnant as she is, she does not release the cop she has pinned for a good ten seconds while she screams.
"You can't listen to him! He's a liar! He's lying about everything! I am not a bad person! HE'S A FUCKING LIAR!"
And everyone knows that she is not talking about this. About her being a criminal. It is so clear that she means everything from the past year and a half.
Baelfire has never been there for her. He was never on her side.
He never wanted to protect her.
"Restrain her!" the police officer Emma had attacked tells to the others. She tries to struggle, still yelling and crying, but they are holding her arms so tightly, and she feels cold metal handcuffs clamp around her wrists.
She is a prisoner now.
She stops crying. She stops yelling . What would be the point now that they have her. She cannot get away now, not unless she runs, and what does she have to run to? Nothing. The one thing Emma Swan had been sure that she would always count on has disappeared just like everything else she ever trusted.
She collapses onto the ground in a puddle of misery. The cop approaches her, kneeling down beside her.
"We have to drive you back now," he tells her.
Emma stares up at him, and even though she has stopped crying, her eyes are still brimming with tears. "Why did he do this?" she asks. She asks it honestly, not in a way that would hurt anyone but herself.
"I don't know," he says, reaching into his pants pocket, "But he said to give you this."
He drops a diamond ring into Emma's lap. It has a tiny paper attached to it with a piece of dental floss, and scrawled across it are two words:
I'm sorry.
And Emma has no emotion. This ring means nothing to her. Maybe it is supposed to mean that he meant to propose, but he did not, so it is nothing but a scrap of metal to her. He may as well have given her a popsicle stick.
He could try and explain himself with this, but the bottom line is that he left his son. He is a terrible person, and even more so, a coward.
He could have had happiness with her, but he let her go in her desperate time of need because he is scared of what might happen if he allows himself to be true to her.
He had said he wanted her. He wanted a family with her and a life. None of it was true. Even if it was, he had broken his word, so it did not matter anyway.
Baelfire spoke of his father only a few times, and it had been obvious that the man had caused him tremendous pain. And yet, he did the very same thing to Emma and her son. A coward. That is what Baelfire Cassidy truly is, no matter how much he tries to prove otherwise.
"Miss Swan," the police officer says, helping her to her feet, "We must ask you to get in the car now."
She does. She walks to the car and sits in the back, dropping the ring onto the pavement as they drive away.