So the only friend I ever had wasn't even my friend by choice?
It twitches beneath her skin like a living thing, the niggling thought that nothing in her life had been left to chance. That everything (and everyone) had been preordained by some mystical bullshit set in motion before she'd even been born.
Lily.
Ingrid.
Neal.
All of them.
All of it.
She was the child borne of true love, born to break a curse, born to be just another cog in the giant machinery of Rumplestilkstin's quest for power.
The Dark One had recruited her before she'd even been born, just like he'd recruited Regina. At least Gold had never pretended to be her friend. After hearing Regina's stories as they'd driven to New York, she was glad that she'd been spared that, at least.
Once upon a time, she'd been able to comfort herself with the thought that, before Storybrooke at least, she'd taken control of her own destiny. She may have been sent to the Land without Magic, but she'd survived. She'd taken all the hits that life had thrown at her and she'd made something of herself. A car, an apartment, a job.
How much of it had been of her making, though?
How much of her life now is of her choosing?
Emma's hands tighten on the steering wheel as the Bug approaches the town line. Beside her, Lily is silent, the fragile truce between them still holding, and Emma is relieved. After the rollercoaster of finding and confronting her childhood friend (she can still feel the memory of that anger chafing at her, white hot and prickling) then finding and confronting Zelena (Christ, what a fucking mess that is) she's glad of the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, as unsettling as they are.
The woman in the back seat is also silent, but that's down to a magical cuff on her wrist (Emma refuses to think about the possibility that it might be the same cuff Killian once put on her own wrist, his fingertips lingering on her skin) and a silencing spell courtesy of Regina, a trade-off for being the one to chauffeur the freaking Wicked Witch back to Storybrooke.
Emma has the feeling Zelena's never gone this long without talking in her life.
The thought is grimly satisfying.
She sees them as soon as they hit Main Street. Her parents are hanging back, but in front of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, are her son and her -
Killian.
Her pulse quickens, her heart seeming to leap into her throat. Anticipation bristles along her skin, something her too-observant passenger apparently notices.
"Who's the welcoming committee?"
"That's my son, Henry." Feeling Lily staring at her, she adds a cautious, "And Killian."
"Let me guess." The other woman's voice is flat, with no real curiosity. "He's yours too?"
Emma draws in a sharp breath at the blunt question, but she's not going to lie. "Yes."
There's a pause as she guides the Bug to a shuddering halt and, when Lily speaks again, her voice is very different. "And Snow White and Prince Charming bringing up the rear."
Emma flashes her former friend a warning glance as she pulls on the handbrake. "We had a deal, remember?"
Lily's eyes seem to glow as they focus on her parents, who are loitering almost awkwardly in the background. "I remember. I just want to meet my mother."
(The mother I never knew, thanks to your parents.
Lily doesn't say it, but Emma hears it just the same.)
"Actually, I can't see Maleficent anywhere." She flicks the other woman another glance, this one as reassuring as she can manage, given the nerves twitching in the pit of her stomach. "Give me a minute, okay?"
She's never been more grateful to step out of her car.
She doesn't have to explain anything to the waiting crowd, thank God. Thanks to a long phone call to Killian before they'd left New York - she hadn't been able to stomach talking to her parents, not after the way they'd left things - the whole town probably knows about Zelena's subterfuge and the return of Maleficent's daughter by now.
Henry dashes forward, Killian trailing in his wake. Both of them are grinning from ear to ear, and she feels her knees quiver in the face of their obvious delight at seeing her. "Mom!"
"Hey, kid." He doesn't protest as she tugs him into a squeezing hug. He's so tall now, this little boy of hers. In a year or two he'll be as tall as Killian or maybe even David, and the thought has her babbling nonsensical mother-speak. "Hope you've been behaving yourself."
"You bet." She can hear the smile in his voice. "I've been sailing every day."
Emma grins as she presses her cheek against his. She can guess in whose company he's been hitting the waterways. "Is that right?"
"Is it really true about Marian? She was really Zelena? "
Despite the circumstances, she can't help smiling at the excitement in his voice. He might be almost as tall as her, but he's still that same kid who turned up on her door step yammering about fairy tales. "Yep." Opening her eyes, her gaze meets Killian's over Henry's shoulder. "I'll tell you the whole story later, I promise."
After one last squeeze, Henry steps back, heading towards the black minivan that's just pulled up behind the Bug, and Killian is suddenly right there, his face alight with the kind of joy that makes her think that anything is possible, even a happy ending.
"Swan."
The words don't seem to want to come, but that doesn't matter. She goes into his arms, her chin finding its usual home in the crook of his neck. He lets out a soft oof when her chest connects with his, but he's as steady as a rock, his arms coming up to wrap themselves around her waist. She feels herself melting in the solid warmth of him, the soft scrape of his beard against her cheek sending a pleasant shiver through her. He smells wonderful, warm male skin and new leather, and she wants nothing more than to slide her hands beneath his jacket and vest, let the heat of him warm her palms through his thin shirt.
(He's wearing the one with the flowers, the one she once said she liked, and her throat tightens a little more, almost stealing her voice.)
Again, it doesn't matter. There's only one thing she really wants to tell him right now.
"I missed you."
"And I you." His hand is gently stroking her back, a slow, soothing motion. "More than I can say."
She knows her parents are waiting to greet her, their smiles hesitant, almost nervous. She knows Regina is probably at this moment tapping an impatient booted toe on the pavement, waiting for her to get the unmasking of underway. She can feel Lily's eyes boring into the back of her skull.
She doesn't care.
She breathes a sigh against Killian's throat, feeling the tension shudder out of her. After days of feeling as tightly coiled as a rusted spring, she finally feels as though she's back in control.
She feels as though she's home.
Leaning back in the circle of his arms, she smiles, her gaze drinking him in. Beneath his obvious relief, she can see the anxiety that's still etched on his face, the faint lines at the corners of his bright eyes more pronounced than usual. She knew he'd been worried about her, but being confronted with the physical proof makes her feel more than a little breathless. "I don't know about you, but a quiet walk along the docks sounds pretty good to me right about now."
He grins back at her, his hip bumping against hers in a caress that can't possibly be accidental. "I couldn't agree more."
Behind them, the sudden babble of voices breaks out over the silence, and she can guess without turning that Zelena has just been produced from the backseat of her Bug like a damned rabbit out of a hat. As Killian watches the proceedings over her shoulder, she can feel his whole body stiffen with apprehension, and she knows their quiet moment has come to an end. "Maybe later?"
She feels his sigh as he breathes out, and the smile he gives her feels very much like a promise. It might be the wrong time right now, but it won't always be. "Definitely." He presses a kiss to her temple (she closes her eyes at the feel of his lips against her skin), then gently eases her away. His voice is quiet, meant for her ears only. "Your parents have missed you too, love."
Taking a deep breath, she nods, wishing she didn't have an audience for this next reunion. She slowly moves towards her parents, Killian's hand a comforting presence on the small of her back. Her mother looks close to tears, and she's seen that tight set of her father's jaw enough times to know that he's not far behind.
Mary Margaret looks beyond Emma to the Bug, then she swallows hard. "So you found her. Lily, I mean."
There is both pride and fear in her mother's voice, and Emma's hands twitch with the urge to reach out for her, to comfort her. She doesn't. She's not ready for that, not yet. "I did."
There's no mistaking the pride in David's tone. "I knew you would."
"I'm glad one of us did," Emma mutters, then takes another hesitant step towards them.
Behind her, she hears the passenger door of her car open, then close behind her. As Lily emerges into Storybrooke, something begins to hum. in the air, the familiar press of magic pushing against Emma's skin, making her mouth go dry, and she knows.
Maleficent has come to claim her child.
Dread flickers in Mary Margaret's eyes at the appearance of the last remaining Queen of Darkness, and a pang twists through Emma's chest. Despite everything that's happened over the last week, seeing her mother like this is just –
Painful.
She gives her mother a tiny nod, hoping it will be received and understood. Mary Margaret frowns, then moves to stand beside David, her hand reaching for his. Squaring her shoulders, Emma turns and hurries back to where Lily is standing, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, her mouth set in a scowl. "Come on."
The other woman says nothing as they make their way down the street to where Maleficent is waiting, silent and watchful, but Emma can feel the hostility radiating from her in waves as they pass Mary Margaret and David. She sees her mother flinch as though she's been slapped, and David's arm coming up around her shoulders, pulling her close.
Emma can't think about that now.
Right now, she has to put things right.
A few hushed, awkward words are exchanged, then mother and daughter are hugging. Maleficent is crying, tears streaming from beneath her tightly closed eyes. She can't see Lily's face, but Emma has the sudden feeling that her former childhood friend's eyes are dry.
As the two women embrace, holding a private conversation in low voices meant for no one but themselves, Emma feels that rustle of magic once more. It's more intense this time, almost sharp as it ripples through the air. It's Maleficent's magic, dark and brooding, she thinks, and fervently hopes that this offering, the feel of her daughter returned to her arms, will be enough to make things right.
She's wrong, of course, because this is fucking Storybrooke and when has anything ever been simple?
Zelena might be safely now contained in the cells beneath the hospital (seriously, Regina, what the actual fuck?), but it turns out that she wasn't the one they needed to fear.
Lily has been too angry for too long.
All it takes is a few carefully sharpened words from The Dark One, and before the sun has even begun to set on Lily's first day in Storybrooke, there is fire and blood and flashing claws and teeth, the mad rush of wind beneath dragon's wings silencing every bird in the forest.
Lily has magic.
Lily also has her mother's wings and claws and a depth of hatred that surpasses anything Emma has ever seen in Maleficent.
That night, in the respite that follows the initial skirmish (the only injuries were singed clothes and bruises, thank God) Emma sits in her bedroom at the loft and feels her own anger begin to grow. It's painfully obvious now that she'd been meant to find Lily and bring her to Storybrooke. It seems that even when she thinks she's doing the opposite of what the fates (and Gold) want her to do, she ends up doing their bidding.
Whether this was Gold's plan, the Author's plan, she doesn't even know any more. All she knows is that she is suddenly afraid that nothing and no one in her life is truly hers by choice.
What if everyone she's ever let into her heart has crossed her path by design? What if everyone she's ever cherished has been part of a bigger picture, not just n her parents and her son and her –
Oh, God.
Killian.
The thought makes her feel faintly sick, but it makes a terrible kind of sense.
She'd fallen through a portal into another realm, found him buried beneath a pile of dead bodies, parted company with him on very unfriendly terms more than once. Over and over again, they'd kept finding each other, again and again, in the strangest of places and most unlikely of circumstances.
What if it was just like it was with Lily? Or Ingrid, or even Neal? Drawn together again and again by fate, not by choice.
Getting to her feet, moving silently in the stillness of the quiet loft, Emma goes in search of her jacket and her gun, her mind already mapping out the safest route to where the Jolly Roger is moored. She might be stumbling around in the proverbial dark when it comes to almost everything else right now, but she's certain about one thing, and that is that she has no intention of losing Killian Jones to the bigger fucking picture.