Chapter 1

Awkward

How do you tell your parents (who you've just 'met') that this is awkward? David and Mary Margaret were embracing Emma, lovingly. Emma on the other hand was jut staring at the horizon, not knowing how to return the hug. She fells socially awkward some times, but this time, this time it has gone to a new unfathomable level.

They are both my age… What the hell?! Was all she could think, as she stood there, dumbfounded.

"Grandpa?" a small voice squeaked behind Emma. As Henry was craning his head towards David, dying for attention.

David hesitated for a moment, "Yeah kid, I suppose," he said, followed by an uncomfortable laugh and lowered himself to embrace Henry. Mary Margaret rapidly joined the group hug. Emma just stood there, looking at them. Somehow she just couldn't flip the emotional switch and bring herself to show the same amount of affection they were exuding. All she wanted was to crawl into her bed and process how her life had changed in the last two hours.

In the background muffled voices were saying things about magic and curses, but she was concentrating all her attention in keeping herself from breaking into a million pieces. Remember to breath, deep breaths. One Mississippi, two Mississippi…

Emma's week only got weirder. Magic, well, it was thing, at least in this town. Go figure. Her best friend was gone. Well, not gone, but suddenly morphed into her 'mother'. Mary Margaret was there, but not there. Now she just was a concerned woman that would baby her 24/7. Awkward. The worst part was that now she didn't have anyone to talk about how crazy her life had turned out. Before she came to Storybrook she would bottle it all up. Just a few months later she had lost her knack for suppressing her feelings, she had had a best friend to laugh and cry with. Now she was alone, and it sucked.

She also found herself becoming a full time mom now that Henry had left Regina (because children cannot be raised by Evil Queens, it's just not practical… or healthy) and moved in with her. That didn't bother Emma, what bothered her was that she now was sharing the custody of her child with a fire shooting, hot tempered, evil villain in sensible pant suits. Why can't we be normal? Is that too much to ask? Probably yes.

The small apartment was now full as David (her dad?!) moved in as well. A lot of family bonding was going on. Which all resulted in that even more awkward and disturbing moment in the morning after breaking the curse when she caught David and Mary Margaret in bed. Her first thought was: Cool! They finally got together, no more angst! No more drama! Then a pause, Their my parents… another pause, Oh my God! My parents just did it?! I mean its okay that they love each other, and they haven't seen each other in 28 years but eewwwww! And suddenly Emma found herself in yet another awkward situation, not knowing where to look or what to do with her hands. All she could do as she stood there was mumble something about going to make tacos and briskly running in whatever direction she could, dragging Henry along with her.

For the next two hours everyone was red faced and in their best behavior. Emma thought she was damaged for life… if she wasn't all ready.

Not even her work life was spared from all crazy. She kept getting the weirdest phone calls. Something about house elves cleaning loudly at odd hours in the night. How was she supposed to handle something like that? Her ruminations were broken by another call.

'Em Sherrif? I just saw an angry mod in front of my house. Pitchforks, torches, the whole shebang! Can we do this now? Or should we stay in doors? I mean is it okay to join them?' Said a preoccupied voice at the other end of the speaker.

Silence.

'Sheriff Swan?'

Emma was still processing the information. First she thought it might be a prank call, then she sourly remembered where she lived. She was lost in her own thoughts. Why didn't I decide to work in IT? "Have you tried turning it on and off again?" Now that was an effective and simple solution. "Em, yes…" was all she could mumble into the phone.

'Yes to what?' said the voice expectantly, 'should I join them?'

"What!? No! What's wrong with you!?" She snapped out of her daydreams. "Mam, please give me your address so that I can go and check this out" and she added "did you happen to see where they were heading?"

A pause. 'The burn a witch' the voice answered.

Typicall. She thought, and she head off to save Regina.

The week had been crazy. Fairytale characters have no boundaries and very little common sense, it didn't matter that they have lived in this world for 28 years. No, they had to make everything complicated. As if they were special. Emma thought bitterly. Her week consisted in breaking up the angry mob, with the help of David and Mary Margaret. What respectable 28 year old takes her parents to a work related possible war zone? Apparently her.

The so-called "victim" of the literal witch-hunt didn't make anything easier on them. Regina had locked herself in her house after threatening the entire town with a fireball. Closing the door as she gave the angry mob "the evil eye" until she was finally out of sight. Cackling was involved in the process. Then, one person collapsed, a hypochondriac, who actually thought that he was going to die from the witch's stare. Of course.

Later in the week she realized that the whole situation with the house elves was not as she had imagined. Thanks to the curse the "elves" were not as magical one could have expected. Meaning that they were a bunch of middle age men, singing ridiculous tunes as they compulsively cleaned other peoples houses in the middle of the night. She took them to the station. Breaking an entry and disturbing the public peace was all she could charge them with. Is not like they had bad intentions, but really did they had to break into song? Back at the station before she knew it they were cleaning the place. Free house cleaning, kudos.

By Friday she had had enough. Enough of her parents, enough of the elves, enough of the evil queen, enough of the hi-ho's that you could hear down the street. Really must the dwarfs do that every time? She had had enough of the freaking fairytale town. Not even Disneyland was that annoying, although she wasn't sure. She'd never been there.

So that morning after leaving Henry at school Emma decided that she needed some alone time to think. After all, her parents were persecuting her as if they were the Spanish Inquisition and she a witch. They followed her home, at work, at Granny's, to the store, and so on … then there was that awkward moment in the bathroom.

"Personal space guys!" she had screamed.

Just to find herself facing the blank stares of both David and Mary Margaret, not comprehending that there are limits to family closeness. Who would have thought that I came from a family of clingers? Well except, of course, if you counted her step grandmother, Regina, who was a megalomaniacal psychopath and definitely not a clinger. But the Evil Queen was a problem that she decided to leave for another time.

So Emma had decided to go and find time to breath. She went to the docks to watch the water and to relax in some much need alone time. And if the universe decided to give her a break she might even get to see that eye candy of a man that would haunt the marina when she went to her spot. Tall, dark, handsome with the added bonus of impossible blue eyes. She had never talked to him, but she would watch for hours how he would work on his boat. He seemed dedicated, hardworking and meticulous. A sudden thought came to her. Please, please, please don't let him be a house elf, or an ogre, or a troll … Emma's list of pleads went on.

At the docks she sat down on her bench. Legs crossed. Lost glance fixed on the horizon. Seagulls were gliding above in the gray sky that threatened to dampen the day. Emma spent a couple of minutes sitting in silence wondering what went wrong in her life. Feeling ridiculously lonely and like she was the last sane person in the entire town. She was lost in her thoughts until she spotted him, the blue-eyed stranger. He was walking towards his boat. Scratch that, he was power walking towards his boat, like a man on a mission. Crap! Thought Emma, there was a definite change in him.

How he was then was definitely not who he was now. For the past few months the man had worn an outstanding collection of plaid shirts and old jeans. Rocking the grunge or the Brawny lumberjack, it depended on the day. His attire was accompanied by a peaceful expression on his face, which he kept as he went on with his work. She liked that about him, in her mind he was a standup guy who had a job and a cheery disposition. She had noticed that he wore a prosthetics hand, his left hand. A power tool accident was her theory, which would explain why he is so focused when he worked now. But the guy in front of her wasn't that guy.

Apparently in a matter of days he had said goodbye to Brawny lumberjack and hello to his inner Johnny Cash. He was rocking the black. Black jeans, black shoes, black t-shirt, black vest, black leather jacket, black glove (for his left hand). Black hair. Black. It seems like his fashion choices were an externalization of his mood because his eyes were no longer peaceful. Angry, they looked angry, and a little annoyed with the world. Thought Emma, she felt the same way at the moment and sympathized with the guy.

Stirring her gaze back to the stranger she also deduced that he looked focused, like a man on a mission. He looked like trouble. And even though everything he wore was dark he had become a beacon of light, and Emma felt like she was a moth, unable to look away from that guy. Maybe she had a sixth sense, like Spiderman, she could feel trouble, which would explain why she couldn't avert her gaze.

All of a sudden the man looked up at Emma and she swore that he was giving her the evil eye. Great! Just great, he must have gone to the same school as Regina! Another villain, just her luck.

And with that her peaceful alone time became a work related thing. This left her with a decision: she could either go back to the station and wait until she got a call about good-old, now evil, blue-eyes; or she could be proactive and nip the problem in the bud. She could either follow the extremely good-looking guy or she could go back to the station where David and Mary Margaret would harass her all day and ask her to talk about her feelings. Decision, decisions.

With a heavy sigh she left her bench as she decided to introduce herself to the newcomer villain. She had her badge, she had her gun, all that she need was to give him a good stare down and show him that she was not going to take any of his monkey business. After all she was Emma Swan, long lost daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming! Yeah, really intimidating right? No, she was a pissed off modern woman with limited patience and a gun living in a fairytale crazy town. Now that is intimidating! She grinned to herself as she mustered all her badassness. No monkey business, not today buddy.

Emma descended the stair down to the shipyard, counting each step as she observed her feet. Nine… Eleven…. Twel… She came into an abrupt halt as she almost crashed into a pillar of black. She raised her head and was met by impossibly electric blue eyes, very angry blue eyes.

"Where are you going love?" said blue-eyes. In a very calm yet anger contained manner.

An accent! Are you kidding me, the guy has a freaking british accent! Of course he has one! What self-respecting villain doesn't? Must he be such a cliché!

"I'm not your love," answered Emma briskly as she sized her new opponent "and I was about to ask you the same thing, pal." Yep, she sure sounded like a convincing figure of authority.

"I haven't done anything," he stated flatly, "Sheriff." This last word he said it with distaste that made his whole face morph in displeasure as his eyes managed to exude even more annoyance.

"Seriously dude," explained Emma with a mock tone, "you go around lurking in those dark clothes in the middle of the day in a deserted shipyard and expect me to believe that your not plotting something?" She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows expectantly. If he didn't budge she would even put her hands on her hips and tap a foot at him. "I'm just saying, you look shady. And in a town like this that is enough to sound the alarm."

He glared.

She glared back.

They stood glaring at each other. They were both statues; angry blue eyes staring into stubborn green ones.

"And" she added, "I want you name, occupation and if you like to make my life a little easier please describe your villainous agenda." She stopped talking and gave him a cold smile, which looked more like she was just showing him her perfect teeth in an aggressive manner.

More glaring.

A wolfish grin on his part.

A raised eyebrow on her part.

Then unhumorous laughter erupted from both sides.

Then came more glaring.

Emma broke the silence. "I don't have all day Mr.?" she said expectantly.

Finally his grin reappeared on his face. "Jones, Killian Jones" he said (Never heard of him that is… um good?, thought Emma). At the same time mischief formed in his Jones' face, "but most people know me by my more colorful moniker," he took a dramatic pause, "Hook."

There was a brief silence while Emma processed this information. Then both of her eyebrows went up as her face became more flabbergasted. "Hook" she finally said, "as in Captain Hook?"

"So you've heard of me?" His grin became wider, not humorous, not flirty, but dangerous, wolfish.

"Great! Just great! So basically what I'm hearing is that now I have to put out and APB on Peter Pan and the rest of the lost boys, and then offer them police protection because a craze pirate is after them, right?" Secretly she was thinking, A pirate! He is a pirate! An actual pirate? At least his not an ogre. But he is too handsome, and young. He cannot possible be the most ridiculous mustache wearing flamboyant pirate from the movie, right? Perhaps it's a Dread Pirate Roberts situation, and he just inherited the title. Even though she was confused she managed to keep her poker face through her ruminations.

"Ha, ha, ha" said Hook lacking humor, "good one!"