I do not own OUAT, any of its cast and/ or characters, nor it's plot. If I did then I'd be very proud of myself right now as I think season seven is better than I thought it would be. It's very good actually! I'm excited to see more and I'm just happy that Colin is still on my screen.
Freedom
3rd Person
With a groan, Emma shuffles out of bed, gasping when she almost falls on the hardwood floors.
This is now a daily occurrence, she's learned. Falling out of bed because she's going to be late. It never used to happen in New York when she was a waitress, but now that she's working mornings and night shifts, she finds it hard to will herself out of bed.
She isn't sure how she came to do this in the four days she's worked for Granny's diner.
On her first day, she'd only been planning on working through the day until the night, but then she'd met Killian Jones, and for some reason, she kept on accepting night shifts just so she could be his waitress.
She's sworn to herself that she won't fall in love again, she knows that, and she isn't one to break a promise, especially one that concerns her heart. The last man she fell head over heels for-well, it didn't work out.
Getting up and getting dressed as quickly as she can, Emma rushes down the stairs of Granny's inn, practically sprinting to get into work on time. She makes it with five minutes to spare if you wondered, and Granny just gave her a surprised look before pottering about.
Just like every other morning since she started working four days ago.
"Morning." She greets softly, already spotting David and Mary Margaret in their booth that they always seem to sit in. "Hey." She walks over to them after grabbing her pen and pad of paper. "How's it going in the lovebird seat?"
Mary Margaret laughs softly, blushing as she hears Emma's greeting. "Quite well, thank you. I have the morning off so we came here early."
Emma senses more to that little story, but she doesn't comment, instead she just nods and plasters on her smile. "Great, I'd love a morning off, but I'm something of a workaholic."
"Granny doesn't give you breaks? That doesn't sound like her." David raises an eyebrow, looking up at Emma with something akin to concern.
"No, no, she does. I just volunteer for morning and night shifts, I get the afternoon to sleep." She shrugs as she explains; it's something she's used to doing when people ask how on earth she's always at work whenever they go there.
"Well, that doesn't sound fun."
"Nah, it's not that bad. It means I can get to know people, and then they'll hopefully tip me if I get their names right." She jokes softly.
When she met the couple that she tends to call America's dream couple (if you wanted to know), she found Mary Margaret a little intrusive and David too much like a father. They scared her because they seemed to genuinely care about her, about everyone. But now she's been here for a few days, she can see herself becoming friends with the overly loved-up couple.
They're the people who greet her most days, who come by her room at random times just to give her plates of food, claiming Mary Margaret made too much, but Emma knows they're just making sure she's okay.
She won't complain, Mary Margaret makes a good Shepard's pie.
They're good people, kind people. She knows that just by the way David always subtly makes sure she's okay and not about to fall over from how many ridiculous hours she works, by how Mary Margaret often offers their spare room if Emma ever needed it, claiming Granny's mattresses are rather uncomfortable.
(They are.)
Emma always declines the offer, saying she's okay and that she can deal with a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, as it's free and she doesn't want to intrude on their lives.
"Well, if you ever need more sleep, there's a perfectly good mattress in David and I's spare room." Mary Margaret subtly hints at her, and Emma bites her lip softly.
There it is. It's a daily reminder. She's half tempted just to agree so she'll stop asking, but Emma doesn't want to be a charity case, and it seems like too much of one.
"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." She offers instead and glances at her pad of paper. "What can I get you two?"
"Just a coffee and pancakes, please, Emma." Mary Margaret looks up at her like she wants to say something. "And yes, do keep it in mind, because the offer will always be there. Besides, it might be nice to have some female company, it gets boring listening to the soccer matches…"
"Oh, then I'd be no help whatsoever. I watch soccer kinda religiously."
"Well I wouldn't mind that, but David just puts it on, and then reads, I think it might be a macho thing." Mary Margaret giggles when David sends her a glare. It's a loving glare, but one full of 'why did you tell her that, I looked cool' kind of glare.
"Ah, well, I can honestly say that macho, not my thing." She shrugs. "Guys who try too hard to be a man…don't end well in my opinion." She swallows softly and looks away when David looks at her with something that definitely makes her want to curl up and inhale her words.
He looks at her with concern, worry, and anxiety. That scares the shit out of her. She didn't mean to make him worry so much, it was meant to be a little quip, but she always forgets that a joke has to come from somewhere, from something that happened to her, and it seems like David has twigged onto that too.
"Anyway," Emma coughs once, looking away. "What can I get you, David?" She asks as she writes down Mary Margaret's order on her pad, pretending to take longer just so she won't have to see that look. That damn fatherly look that she knows he doesn't give anyone else, it's the kind of look orphans dream of…someone to care.
"The same, please, Emma." He passes her his menu gently like he's afraid of doing it too hard or fast and upsetting her. That's exactly what she's never wanted, to be a victim, and she won't let him see that.
She writes times two on her pad and takes their menus before quickly rushing off to the counter, biting her lip and just ignoring the horrible feeling in her stomach.
"You know that they just want to help, right?" Someone says from next to her, making Emma glance over to see the red-haired waitress who works there, Granny's granddaughter, Ruby, who seems to know everyone and everyone likes her, but that may just because of her short shorts and a tank top. But Ruby's nice, and she seems to care but also keep her distance, which Emma appreciates.
"I know. But I don't think I'm ready to accept it."
Mary Margaret and David leave a little while later, leaving Emma with her thoughts. Usually, they're a welcome distraction from the world, a way for her to just joke and laugh, not needing to reveal too much. But now she sees that their concern is coming at the cost of her getting close to them, and she's not sure she's ready for that.
"Are you gonna talk to me about what happened earlier?" Ruby asks softly as she wipes down the table next to the one Emma is cleaning. "With David and Mary Margaret."
"Probably not," Emma states simply, wiping off some crumbs from the table.
Ruby sighs, standing up straight and walking over to Emma. "Sit, talk."
Emma mumbles a groan but does as she's told, sitting down on the chair by the table, and folds her hands out in front of her. "Alright…David got concerned, I didn't like it."
"Why'd he get concerned? Did you say something worrying?" Ruby asks as she sits opposite Emma.
"I made a little…a quip I guess. I must have made it too real to be a joke, and no I won't say what it was. But he looked at me like…a father would. And I wasn't ready to have that yet, no one's ever looked at me and just wanted to protect me."
"David is that kinda guy, he's like that with everyone. And Mary Margaret is the nicest woman on the planet, so it's no surprise they've taken a shine to you. But I can tell they're trying with you, more than anyone else." Ruby explains, making Emma sigh, burying her face in her hands. "They want to be your friend."
"I don't need them to be my friend-"
"Friendship isn't about need, or want. It's just about being there, helping out. We're colleagues, yeah, but I hope that in your head, you also know I'm your friend. There aren't that many people here in this town I like, but you're one of the very few who don't make me want to scratch your eyes out."
Emma laughs softly and just nods. "Fine…I will…make an effort." She promises and stands up slowly. She pushes in her chair just as Ruby stands, and sighs softly. "Hey, Ruby?"
"Yeah?" She glances up at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Thanks for the pep talk. I'm not used to people caring…it's kinda nice."
"That's what friends are for."
Emma sighs as she takes the empty plate from an elderly man, offering him her waitress smile before walking to the kitchen to place the plate in the washing. She glances up at the clock when she's put the plate down, seeing she has another two hours of her shift before she can get a nap before her next shift.
She'll finish work at two; have eight hours until ten, where she'll then work until three am.
It's not that bad, not when you say it. But when you do it in real life, it's quite tiring.
But it's okay, mostly because the diner always plays her favorite music, some eighties stuff is always good to get her in the right mood, and she enjoys humming under her breath.
She listens for a moment to hear the most recent song on the playlist, grinning and humming along softly.
'Love lifts us up where we belong, far from the world we know, where the clear winds blow.'
That used to be her favorite song as a teen, as she always loved the film where it came from, and most of her adolescence was spent dreaming up scenarios in her head from it.
She always used to dream that she was the girl who worked in the factory, a little rough around the edges but with a pure heart beneath it all. Emma would dream that she'd meet a Navy man at a dance and fall for him, spending the rest of the night near the sea and exchanging stories, eyes full of love. But then it got dark, as most movies do, and the man would tell her he couldn't fall in love and that he wouldn't. But in the end, it would all be resolved, and the man would come back to her, lift her up while in his Naval uniform. They'd walk off into the distance and that would be it.
But, in the end, it was only a movie, and it was only her dream.
There's no Naval officer who will sweep her off her feet and carry her to happily ever after. She's not even sure they exist anymore. For her, they don't. Though she wouldn't say no if a man in uniform wanted to sweep her off her feet and love her.
But no man loves her, and she can't love anyone in return.
Emma types up the bill for the man on the till, doing the maths in her head quickly and grinning when she's right. She's trying to improve her maths (just to amuse herself really), not for any real reason, as she just wants to improve.
The more she excels at, the more impressed people (employers) will be when she tells them (or passes in CV's). "Two dollars twenty, plus four dollars, plus three ninety-five, plus another four dollars…" She muses as she types it in. "That is fourteen dollars, fifteen cense." She presses the equals button, grinning wide when she's correct. "Yes!"
She prints the receipt before bringing it over to the older man, who's already pulling out his wallet. "Here you go, I'll come collect it when you're ready?" She offers, but he passes her fifteen dollars within seconds of her being there. "Oh, thank you."
Emma takes the little tray she brought it over on, not seeing when he places another ten as a tip on it, but it's a pleasant surprise when she glances down and smiles wide.
That's something else she's learned in this town, everyone tips well. It's like they have more money than sense, not that she's complaining, as she needs all the money she can get.
Spotting Ruby out of the corner of her eye, Emma observes as she speaks to a customer sat on his own, grinning as she sees Ruby quite obviously flirting with the man, and wonders whom it is who has her friend blushing.
In an effort to look like she's doing something productive, Emma begins to wipe down the counter, watching them absentmindedly to an onlooker, but really she's half-heartedly wiping the counter.
Ruby flips her hair behind her back, leaning on the table a little, in an obvious display of her chest, smiling softly and paying attention to every word the man is saying, but he seems completely oblivious to her, or he's ignoring.
(Emma thinks he's oblivious because the way he looks at Ruby when she's looking down at her pad and writing is the look of a man who's in complete adoration of the woman in front of him)
It's sweet.
Emma can't remember the last time someone flirted with her, or she flirted back. Emma Swan has never been the type of girl who goes for long relationships, seeing as her last one backfired supremely-
But she won't think about that. Not here.
When Ruby makes her way over to the counter, Emma ducks her head but laughs softly as she listens to Ruby making some coffee. "So who is tall, dark and very skinny?" She asks, looking pointedly at the man that Ruby was speaking to.
"Oh, that's Dr. Whale." Ruby shrugs, acting like she doesn't really know, only a name, but Emma can see straight through her little act.
"Dr. Whale?" She raises an eyebrow, leaning on the counter and raising an eyebrow. "What field does he work in?"
"Emergency medicine…why?"
Emma's eyes widen a little when Ruby says that, knowing a different doctor that she most definitely knows works in the exact same department. Her surprise must be evident because Ruby looks more confused than Emma has ever seen her, but then again, Emma hasn't known Ruby for that long a time.
"Never mind." Emma smiles softly, the smile tight and one that gives off the aura of 'please leave it', which Ruby picks up on and doesn't question it. "Do you, uh, do you like this guy?" Emma coughs and pretends to help her with the coffee so no one questions them just chatting instead of working.
"He's…nice." Ruby blushes. "He always orders the same thing, comes in at the same time on the same day…and he always leaves a big tip. But only for me, for everyone else it's just a normal type of one. But for me, it's usually pretty big, and I don't know…I get the feeling that he might like me."
Emma smiles softly, a real smile this time. "He likes you."
"So it's not just me who thinks it?"
"Well…" Emma sneakily glances at Dr. Whale, before looking at Ruby. "Considering the fact he's watching you with big, doe eyes, yes. He likes you. And, by the looks of it, you like him too. Now go give your lover boy his coffee, and try flirt more obviously, because subtlety isn't working on him."
Ruby nods quickly, taking Emma's words into account as she heads over to Whale with his coffee, everything about her exerting confidence, but Emma can see the hidden anxiety in her friend.
Sometimes Emma misses the feeling of falling in love, the complete bliss, not knowing what's going to happen next. It used to be something she dreamed about as a kid, falling in love with the perfect man and him loving her back, getting married and having a family.
But soon enough, life showed her that she wasn't meant to have that life, and she's too afraid to try.
She can't risk it.
After her shift, Emma takes her a much needed and (she thinks) well-deserved nap until she's up again at nine thirty pm.
Her shift starts at ten until three, Killian Jones comes in at one am every morning.
No, she doesn't wait with a Venti-Americano at the ready as it's what he orders every morning, and no she doesn't know exactly what he's going to order. And no, she doesn't look forward to seeing him. She's only working these ridiculous hours for the money, and this was the most convenient.
Both to stare at a hot man and to talk to someone like her. Plus, staying up keeps the nightmares at bay.
At one am (and eleven minutes past if you want to be precise), Killian Jones walks in the door, the bell ringing as the door opens and closes, making Emma's head snap up from where she's wiping down the table.
In her head, in her dream, this is the part where he lays her on a table and kisses the hell out of her before making love with some crappy instrumental music. But this isn't her dream, and when he walks in, all he does is sit down in his little booth and wait.
Wiping the last crumbs off the table and making sure to do it a couple of times so he doesn't think she's hasty and desperate, Emma sighs softly to herself at how big an idiot she is.
Pulling her pad of paper and pen from her little pocket of her apron, Emma slowly makes her way over to Killian, her shoes clicking on the floors gently as she makes her way over. "Hi." She greets quietly.
Killian glances up at her slowly, smiling at the sight of her, and god if his smile isn't the thing that will kill her one-day, it's the way his eyes brighten when he sees her. "Hey, nights shift again?"
"Yeah, it sucks but I need the money." She shrugs, not telling him that she volunteers to do it just to see him. That certainly is more desperate then she's willing to admit.
"Sorry to hear that." He offers her a small smile. "Tonight is my last night shift for a few days, I'll have tomorrow off, then I have regular afternoon shifts, and then back to nights."
"I'll have to make sure I'm here for the afternoons then." She jokes softly, looking at the table for a moment so she won't blush.
"I'd like that," Killian replies softly, sounding sincere. "But I kind of like our one am chats, I don't usually talk too much to people."
"Well, I'm happy I'm the first." She grins, walking back to the counter and bringing over his coffee within seconds, as it was half made already.
Killian seems a little surprised when she brings it over, as he didn't actually order it, but he just grins through his surprise. "I'm that predictable, huh?" At her nod, he shrugs and straightens his napkin, which Emma notices he always does, but never says anything.
"A little." She shrugs. "But I suppose we all have our little routines." Emma sits down on the opposite seat to him gently, not asking because he usually offers if she's standing too long. She feels the burn on her heels of finally getting a little relief, and she notices the diner is empty apart from them and the cook who does the night shift.
She knows at around two am, she'll have the drunks coming in from their night out, desperate for coffee and food to sober up before their wives find out. Normally she enjoys it, the drunken squad (as she calls them), but tonight she isn't up for seeing them all.
"I suppose." Killian muses on her words. "You're insightful, you know that, Swan?"
"Yeah, well in my short twenty-four-years of life," She subtlely tells him her age, biting her lip in the hopes he caught it. "I've learned more then I should, thus meaning I…am a treasure chest, and I hold secrets and little musings to make you think." She winks.
He chuckles softly and if that isn't the most gorgeous sound on earth, she doesn't know what is. "Well…in my twenty-six-years of life, I've learned to take life by the bollocks, because that what it does to you."
Emma giggles softly, something she can't say she does often. "Well…I'm sorry if you have sore, what did you call them, bollocks." She imitates him with a grin, making him send her a playful glare. "From how much life has grabbed them."
"You're a mean one, Swan." He winks, and she gently kicks him under the table. "On another note, I saw you speaking to David Nolan earlier, he looked kind of worried, is everything alright?"
Emma looks away, and nods slowly, pursing her lips. "You two are friends huh?" He nods slowly. "David's acting like a dad, I got uncomfortable. Him and Mary Margaret are such nice people, everyone in this town is. And I know that I'll just ruin it all, so it's best to keep away."
"That's what I thought too, Swan," Killian replies in a soft voice, making her look up at him. "But…now I'm more than some drunk, washed up Navy Lieutenant. I'm a doctor, a good one I hope, and I know people here."
"You were in the Navy? What happened?"
"That's a story for another time." He looks away, obviously not wanting to speak about it. "But, that small snippet had a point to it, love, one you seemingly missed."
She sighs, nodding. "Yeah, I know. I should give them a chance; maybe take them up on their offer for a room. Granny's free room will only last for a certain amount of time and I need to get my ass in gear."
"No." He shakes his head. "The point of that little anecdote of mine, although short, wasn't to have a go at you or push you into doing things you don't want to do-"
"That's new." She mumbles, playing with her apron. "I'm used to men pushing me into doing things."
The look he gives her is too much, and it makes her want to curl up like she did when David gave her a similar look earlier. Except this look isn't one of a father, nor a brother, the look that Killian gives her is the look of a lover, one she's never had before. Not really.
"You shouldn't be." He says quietly, and the look remains. "You deserve much better than that, Swan. Don't ever doubt that. And whoever those men are, they don't deserve you."
"Thanks." She bites her lip nervously, realizing she's let too much go, and that it's time to go, it's time for her to close off. "But you have it wrong, I'm pretty certain I deserved it."
That's what she was always told, that she deserves it, that she deserved what she got. She deserved to be hit and scarred and forced and hated, she deserves to cry and hate herself. Emma Swan doesn't deserve shit, not in the eyes of anyone she's ever met, and even herself. She deserves a little hole in the ground, and that's it.
With that, she stands up, blinking away her tears.
"You're wrong, Swan…"Killian tells her softly as she turns away, making her pause in her tracks, but she doesn't turn around to face him, too afraid of what she'll see. "You deserve better then what life has given you."
"Life hasn't given me anything, Jones." She sighs, turning around to face him as she hears him stand up from the booth. "Except scars and bruises and hatred." She whispers softly, glancing down so she doesn't have to see the look on his face, the look of sympathy and pity… It's the look people give victims.
She is not a victim.
"I used to think that," Killian tells her softly, taking a small step towards her gently, not making any move to go closer or even to touch her. He keeps a small amount of distance, allowing her to choose what she wants.
"What changed?" She asks softly, taking a little breath, scared of the answer despite the fact she knows it can't be that bad.
"Life gave me you." He whispers softly, looking vulnerable for a moment. "And I can see a friend in you." He backtracks on his words like he's terrified he's said the wrong thing.
"Yeah?" He nods. "Then you're wrong. Because…" She looks away, biting her lip as she tries to figure out her next move, not knowing what to say. "You deserve a hell of a lot more of a friend then just plain old me, trust me. I'll cause you nothing but trouble."
"I like trouble." He smiles, before turning around and going to sit down again, and the moment passes.
"Well, then you'll like spending time with me." She offers him an Emma smile, which he returns with a uniquely beautiful Killian one.
"I'm counting on it."
Please let me know what you think of this, the review/comment button is my muse, so I really love seeing comments and things, more then you know!