A/N: Back to Emma's POV. Version One, Part Three. Some Anti-Neal, as a fair warning (there was a lot more, I managed to cut a good deal of it because it was rather unnecessary, but not all). IDK if I'm happy about the piece as a whole, but for a one-page fic, this part alone was getting into the eight page range and that's a lot. Plus, I really wanted to move on to part four.
Oh and the kid that Graham gave the parchment to is a literary reference, anyone who catches what to will get virtual cookies.
"Miss Anna?" It's the owner's son who catches her attention, using the false name she'd given. He is not much older than Henry, and he seems nervous.
"Yes, Jim?" she smiles gently, hoping to calm him. The room has started to clear, few people left in the tavern unless they're staying the night. She still hurts from Graham's sudden appearance and disappearance, the fact that she will likely never see him again acutely painful.
"Um…" he holds a piece of parchment out to her, "The- He asked me to give you this."
The boy's nerves make sense as she realizes that he means… Graham. She hesitates only a moment before taking the note, opening it up. Forest behind the stables. Closing. His handwriting is rough, unpracticed, but still recognizable from months of being Sheriff and going through his old files trying to organize them (trying to pretend she wasn't clinging to anything that might remind her of him).
"Thank you." She smiles at the boy again, this one a bit more genuine than the last. He wants to see her. It is pain, but- Every last moment she can get with him, she wants. She needs.
She is anxious for her chance to see him again, trying to mask her impatience even as the tavern's owner shows them to their rooms. Hook tries to ask about her encounter with Graham and the parchment she'd received; she pretends to be too tired to discuss it while thanking whatever power might be in the universe that her window is over a mass of ivy that she can climb down to get out without alerting anyone that she's left.
She needs to know what he wants, and she needs to see him again. Needs to figure out why their last brief meeting went so strangely.
The moon is near-full, incredibly bright, and she is surprised but not frightened when the familiar white wolf with bi-colored eyes steps out of the shadows. She kneels, holding out her hand for the wolf to sniff. It is gentle, bumping her softly in a way that she recognizes as asking her to pet it. It's almost as if… As if the wolf knows who she is. Which is just as ridiculous as the idea that Graham knows her, in this time, but… Maybe she's got it backwards. Maybe it doesn't seem like the wolf knows her now because of Storybrooke – it made her stay. Maybe it did that then because of this meeting now?
She is so caught up petting the wolf that she doesn't notice Graham step out of the shadows at first. When she finally does see him, he is staring at her and the wolf in disbelief, even awe. Similar to that last night, but- Even greater. It is not love, this time – it can't be. He doesn't know her. But it is something. She gives the wolf a few more scratches behind the ear for good measure before standing.
She doesn't know what she's expecting, and wants to be on guard – but this is Graham. She always trusted him more than she wanted to, and she can feel her heart begging her to trust him once more. But there's too much at stake here – it's not just her feelings. She can't mess with the timeline and so she cannot be too cautious. Not even with him. Even if he's already saved her parents, she still can't- Can't save him. Otherwise, they'll never meet. She'll never fall in love with him.
He closes some of the distance between them, looking at her curiously. She doesn't- Doesn't understand what's going on here, still. He doesn't know her, he can't. But- He doesn't quite act like she's a stranger, either.
"It's not often the Dark One takes personal interest in someone that's rubbed the Queen wrong." Impossible as it feels, a part of her still knows him. That's not what he wants to talk about, not at all. But if that's how he wants to play it… She can afford to play along for a bit.
"And you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, "How often do you take personal interest?"
"I don't." She's about to call him a liar, knows what he did for her mother, sees that he has interest here. But then he speaks again. "I fight her, as much as I can. But it's not out of any personal interest. It would be… Good… To see her defeated, to see this land freed from her. King James and Queen Snow act like she's no longer a threat, because of her exile. But she's just as dangerous as she always was."
She doesn't really want to believe what he's saying – but her lie detector isn't going off. Exiled but just as dangerous as ever. She's willing to bet that her mother was the one to have mercy on the Evil Queen, thinks she remembers from the book that they had the chance to execute Regina but couldn't go through with it. It's true to Mary Margaret's nature but seeing him, how the people treat him and what he'd said about between Regina and the Dark One as to who could make him suffer more, and having run from the black knights for so many days now – she can't help but to be bitter over it. She thought she could afford to play along, but this- Thinking like this is dangerous. She can't go down this path.
"You aren't here to talk about what the Dark One wants with me." She lets the accusation hang in the air for a moment. "What do you really want?"
He is silent for a moment, gaze washing over her again.
"Why do you look like her?" The question stuns her. She looks like someone? That's- She looks like Mary Margaret, she supposes, has her mother's eyes and chin. Is that what he means?
She's not sure, though, so she shakes her head slowly, starting the only answer she can give. "I don't know what you-"
"Why do you look like Emma?" He interrupts, and his change of wording nearly sends her into shock. She just barely manages not to gasp aloud. She is Emma.
"How do you know my name?" Her eyes narrow into slits, a suspicious glare sent his way. She has to be cautious, has to think about the timeline, for Henry's sake. But something is wrong here. Something she needs to understand – and from the stunned look on his face, he needs to understand too.
He moves quickly, and suddenly she's backed up against one of the trees, him hovering over her. She's almost frightened. She can't be frightened of him, not really. But this is strange, unexpected. She doesn't know what's happening.
Their eyes are locked, and for what feels like an eternity, they're simply standing there, in silence, trying to understand. Then, slowly, his hand comes up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear almost reverently.
"I- I didn't think- I convinced myself it couldn't be you." His words confuse her further still, and it must be written on her face, because it only takes him a moment to let out a breath before he starts to speak once more. "There's an old story, I- I heard it when I was very young, from the ones who- Who taught me the human tongue. A story that- That dreams are- Memories of another life, or glimpses into what will be. I don't dream often. Hardly ever, anymore. But- You- I've dreamt of you my whole life, Emma."
"You've dreamt of me?" – but how is that possible? – "Of- Of us?"
He nods, fingers trailing down her jawline tantalizingly, making her shiver. "A strange world, not the forest. But us. Together. With- With pups."
"Pups?" she can barely believe her ears. None of this seems real.
"I mean- The human word is children, isn't it?" He sounds almost angry with himself for getting the word wrong, using the wolf term. She doesn't like it, he shouldn't be angry with himself. It's not his fault that he thinks in different terms; she knew what he meant. It's not a problem.
"I knew what you meant," she assures, tentatively reaching up to him – she shouldn't, she really shouldn't. But she cannot resist, she has missed him too much – "I was just- Surprised, that's all. I've had those dreams too."
It hurts, to admit it. But she does, she has to. She's had dreams of what could have been ever since she lost him. The kind of dreams she'd once thought she'd never have. Even- Even without her memories, she'd dreamt of him. Of them. Of the life they should've had. But- He's dreamt them too? He hasn't even met her yet! Or hadn't, before tonight. Whichever.
He seems to hesitate for a moment, like he has something to say but he isn't sure how – but then instead of saying anything he's kissing her, holding her as close as he can. It is surprising, to say the least. Still, after over a year without him, it is also sweet relief, and she easily returns the kiss. She wraps her arms around him, avoiding the spot she knows is empty, where she will feel no soothing beat if she tries. That will only make this hurt more.
"I don't-" His breathing is ragged as he pulls away, "Why- Why now? When there is no way we can be?"
"Cruel fate," she bites the words out, hating that she is going to lose him once more. No matter how much time they get now – and it will never be enough, never – they will be parted. She will return to a world where he is dead while he returns to a life where she is not yet born and he is miserable under Regina's iron grip, where he- He will find her again, it's true. But they will have hardly any time together before he dies. He won't even know what- What they were meant to have.
"Cruel would be if we never met." Another kiss, more hesitant this time, his lips barely brushing hers before it's done. "You make me feel, Emma. You make me want. Cruel is life without you."
"Life you know you'll have to return to," she reminds, cursing the tears she feels building behind her eyes. "Don't tell me that's not cruel. That the dreams wouldn't be better if-"
"If I didn't know you were real? That's how I've been living. But now I- Now I know that- That if she's ever defeated, I will have a chance to find you again."
She inhales sharply, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his soothing and familiar scent. He is so strangely hopeful because of this, and it hurts. He doesn't know what she knows. That because of her, Regina will kill him. That he won't live to see the Evil Queen defeated, and that everyone else has welcomed her with open arms even after everything she did. Her own mother, one of Regina's biggest victims, sides with the Evil Queen over her.
"What's wrong?" He must sense her distress, because he's stroking back her hair soothingly and she can't- She can't tell him the truth.
"I'm not from here. I'm from a different world, a land without magic. I'm only here because of- A complete accident. The pirate's taking me back, once we can find a way. I won't be here, when she's- When you get your freedom. Tonight is- Tonight is all we have." All half-truths. She is from here. But… She's also from the Land Without Magic. More from there than here, in spite of where she was born. It is an accident that she's here in the past, and Hook is traveling with her in their quest to find a way back. She will be there, though, when he gets his freedom – sort of. She will be there when he finally breaks away from Regina, at least. And while for her, tonight is all they have – he has their entire relationship ahead of him, fleeting and hardly even a relationship though it was.
"You're- A land without magic?" He sounds thoughtful, not disbelieving, and she quickly tries to put together everything that she knows about when she is. Hook said that his past self being in Wonderland means they're only a few months before the curse. So Graham- He must know what's coming, at least something of it. At least the smallest details, like the land without magic. "Emma- Emma. The Queen is planning- She's going to cast a curse, it will take everyone to the land without magic. And- All curses can be broken. It's one of the basics of magic. Just because you're going back there- That doesn't mean we'll never see each other again."
Oh. He thought- He thought that he'd find her after the curse was broken. Must still think that's an option, because even if she finds her way home, he'll eventually be in the other world. It is not just an ache in her heart any longer; it is killing her to hear his hopes. Somehow, however he's had these dreams- He believes. In them. Strongly. In a way that she can tell he doesn't believe in anything else. She can't tell him the truth and she knows she can't bring herself to break his heart, to lie and tell him that she doesn't want him – not that he'd believe her, after her admission about the dreams, and certainly not after that kiss that she can still feel in her every nerve.
She wants to discourage him, make him accept that this night is their only chance. But she cannot tell him the truth – which is too fantastic to be believed, anyway. And she wants to be with him, in every way he'll allow. She is the Savior, but he is her Savior. The reason she is alive and the reason she stayed in Storybrooke beyond that first week for Henry and the reason she believes in True Love.
"You don't think you'll be returned here once it's broken?" It is the only thing she can think of that is a practical concern, that doesn't indicate she knows anything of the curse itself.
"I said she's casting it. She didn't create it herself. The Dark One did. She has a prisoner, Belle – that woman knows the Dark One better than anyone else. She told me that everything he does has purpose. If he created a curse to send us to that world, then he wants to be in that world for some reason. It would be useless if the curse breaking took him right back out of that world." Observant. Then, she should've expected that much. This is Graham, after all, and she might've teased him about observing the fact that she'd stayed in town – but she knew that he could be properly observant when he had to be, like when David woke up from his coma.
"Well then… Maybe we will have a someday." She fakes a smile as she tells the lie. It is agony, tearing her heart in two. But she can think of nothing else to say, no way to combat his logic without giving away the truth.
Those eyes search her like she can provide answers to all of life's mysteries, and then without warning, lips meet hers once more, hands move to unlace her corset. And she wants this, so much, cannot even think to protest, but then he has broken the kiss and moved away and- He looks ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Emma- I- I didn't mean to- Act improperly-" Act improperly? She cannot help but laugh aloud, a genuine smile making its way across her face.
"I happen to be an expert at acting improperly," she reaches out, taking his hands. Stands on tiptoes and gives him a gentle kiss, "I have a son."
"A son?"
She's not sure what that tone in his voice is. There's curiosity there, she can tell that much. But there's more, too.
"Henry. He's 12."
"And-" he swallows audibly, "You love his father?"
Oh. Oh. He is worried that his place in her heart is-
"I used to. But he left me, a long time ago." She doesn't want to go into it all now, can't go into it all now. But- "I hadn't started dreaming of you, yet. I'd never had a home. And he- He promised me one." She knew now exactly how naïve she'd been, could see some of the little moments that should have concerned her more at the time, the way he'd just been planning on leaving her, how she'd had to convince him to let her help with the watches. Something had been rotten all along, but she'd been blinded by feeling like she belonged, like someone actually cared about her for the first time in her life since the Swans gave her back.
Tallahassee never was home, though. New York was, with her false memories. Storybrooke… Sometimes, it did feel like it. It was where her family was, after all. But other times… Something was missing. Or- Someone was missing. Him.
Even though she's certain he'll understand, she casts her eyes downwards as she explains. Keeps them low, waiting a moment that feels forever for his response.
Hands come to cup her face, and she feels his eyes searching her once more.
"He took advantage of you." His words are half-statement, half-question, and she looks up, meeting dark blues that look so, so sad. He said she makes him feel but- She did not expect this, this… Sadness. For her.
"Yes." It's more complicated than that, for certain. But he had taken advantage of her. She had trusted him with her heart and her hopes and he'd known that and he'd abandoned her without a word. When they met again, he'd told her he hadn't had a choice, that he'd left for her own good, to get her home. But bitter words about never would have gone near you if I knew ring through her head and she knows that he was trying to paint himself in a better light. That was what he did. She'd been learning to tolerate him, for Henry's sake, and maybe be friends – but love for Neal was long gone, or as close to long gone as first love could ever be. Even if he'd lived, trust never would have come back.
Graham's arms are around her again, holding her close once more.
"I- I didn't even know who my parents were, at the time." Maybe she shouldn't be telling this part of the story. It's too close to the curse and the things Graham cannot know. But- It feels good to have someone to talk to about this, someone who'll actually listen. "But he found out. And he knew that if I ever found them, he'd have to face his dad, who was close to them. So he-"
A low growl from Graham interrupts her, and she pulls back to see the sadness for her has been replaced by anger, so much anger. She can almost see that side of him she couldn't before, the wolfish assassin. And it's- It's directed at Neal. Over her. And he- He doesn't even know – yet – about her having given birth in jail, about having to give Henry up, about Henry being raised by Regina. He doesn't know about the worst parts of it all and- He is still this angry? Angrier than she ever even imagined he could be?
"Hey," she uses the word gently to catch his attention, hands moving to cup his face, "It's in the past–" and the irony of that statement is not lost on her – "it doesn't matter now."
She kisses him again, hoping to convey that- That he is the one she wants - and when she pulls back she sees that he has calmed considerably, his expression sad rather than angry again.
"You don't deserve to have been hurt that way," he murmurs, fingers tangling in her hair as he rests his forehead against hers.
"It doesn't matter now," she repeats firmly, shaking her head, "My son is one of the best things that ever happened to me. And now- Now I know you're real, too." She has no other reassurances to give, as much as it hurts her to say it, to lie to him like this. She knew that he was real already. But- The only thing she can do is play along with his hopes. Can't change the past.
"And your son–"
"Would love you as a father. I promise." Graham was the closest thing Henry had to a father, for a long time. This isn't a lie. Not with how upset Henry had been when- Not when he'd wanted to stop trying to break the curse because of Graham's death.
"Most- Most would not want me near their children."
"I am not most. I don't care what anyone else thinks of you."
"You don't know who I am," he shakes his head sadly. But, of course- She knows exactly who he is. "The things I've done-"
"And you don't know who I am, either." Perhaps not the best argument, with her inability to tell him the truth. But… "We all do things we're not proud of, things we regret. Sometimes we don't have a choice. We can't let that define us. You are not the things you've done. When you- When you make your choices, do you try to do what's right?"
"When I have a choice."
"Then that's who you are. A good man." He needs to know that. That not everyone sees him as some– Some monster, something to be scared of. She knows he needs that, having seen how everyone reacted to him earlier. "Do you understand?"
There's a moment's hesitation, and then he's nodding, and she's so, so glad she got through to him.
"And- What do you choose, Emma?" His voice is soft and she knows he doesn't- Doesn't mean it the way that Killian and Neal did, before. Because she- She has more than proven already tonight that he is her choice. Or she hopes she has, anyway, because she doesn't know how else to make it clear and won't have another chance.
"I choose my son." Henry is her choice, always. But it's more complicated than that, and she continues. "I choose you- I do. And I do hope we can have a someday. But- But for now, all we have is tonight. Because I also choose my son. Because I have to get back to him. He needs me."
"Loyalty to your family," his lips quirk into a smile, "Admirable."
"I want you to be a part of that family." She barely whispers the words, quiet in her confession because it is such a very big thing to say. Even though she is scared, she fights it back. He deserves to know. And if she doesn't tell him now...
"I would be honored."
She still aches with the knowledge of the truth, but a smile finds her as he pulls her flush once more. They might not have the forever that she wishes for desperately, but they do have this night.
That will have to do.
