AN: AN UPDATE! SHE LIVES! You're all very clever, figuring out our surprise guest ;) I apologize for the time between updates-holidays and all. Also, i'm not going to lie, i've been very motivated recently by 1) the show returning and 2) apparently, a couple of people have rec'd this on tumblr and i've gotten a LOT more feedback for it recently. Kinda lights a fire under your ass. My muse has been awakened, just enough, and just so happens, most inconveniently at 2 am. Would you also believe, the last like two chapters are pretty much done? I just gotta get to them. I'm doing my best. Oh the finish i have planned ;) The next chapter has been started...but I always say that, and then it's two months later, so I promise, I will try to be better about that. I think that the show is partially to blame for that; all these other plot bunnies keep coming up. Swan Thief is a recent one...so if you know any really good ones, let me know (my current fav on is Stardust by Faux Pax-it's SO GOOD)
His fingers curled around the chain link fence, sweat beading on his forehead almost immediately. It was a tone of voice he was all too familiar with, a tone of voice he both dreaded and had long missed, one that often had him, in his past, backtracking as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong, and what he would need to do to fix it. Because he so desperately wanted to fix things for this voice, especially now, especially here. He stilled himself for a few moments, the silence deafening as memories collided with his rational thought, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he fought to keep tears from his eyes
"You're going to hang that there, like that?" The tone was indicative of her disapproval and from his spot on his stool, he still smiled, his hand never leaving the picture's frame. He didn't even bother to turn.
"Unless you wanted it elsewhere, my dear."
He closed his eyes as he willed his racing heart to slow and swallowed hard once more before he steeled himself to turn. She would not know him, he knew, would not react to him in a way he would wish so greatly, so he knew he had to fight hard to hide any form of involuntary disappointment that may grace his features. He had waited so long to hear her sweet voice once more, and somehow dug within himself to turn slowly, keeping his eyes to the ground as he prepared himself to face what he knew would be a stony and severe gaze.
"Are you going to look at me as you try to explain why you were leering at my students?"
His head snapped up, his cheeks turning bright red as the statement removed any ambivalence he may have had at the encounter. "I was not leering at them! Henry Mills is...well, it's difficult to explain..."
He let his words trail off, her cross expression fixating him. Her hair was shorter than it had been years before, but everything else was the same. Her smooth porcelain skin had nary a blemish, her beautiful green eyes wide and bright, although a tad bit more irritated than they'd been the last time he'd kissed her. It took everything in him not to rush to her, to grab her in his arms and spin her around with a kiss, but he knew the reaction to that-especially given where he had found himself now-would not be conducive to getting her to speak with him. He hoped, somehow, that maybe a kiss would break the spell, but without knowing for sure at this juncture, he would wait for a bit; this curse was a greater, darker power than he had ever heard spoken of in all the realms, and would surely take more than just he and Snow to break the spell, especially given Rumple's eery premonition that it would be Emma's destiny to do so.
His beautiful Snow White. He doubted that's what she would answer to now, though. Her crossed arms reflected her hostility, and he held his hands up in defense. "Henry is...my grandson." He explained shortly. This seemed to surprise her. Her eyes narrowed, her expression darkening at the mention.
"You're...the mayor's father? I thought he was dead."
The laugh that escaped sounded like one mixed with a cough, if not a bit hysterical. "Oh, God, no." He shook his head. "Birth, grandfather. My...my daughter and I, very coincidentally, have found ourselves here rather by accident and Henry seems to believe she is his mother. He found her online, or something, I don't really know about technology, but the most important thing, is that I was notleering at your students."
He was tripping over his words, and he knew, had to be making a fool of himself as he sputtered along. However, by the look on her face, it seemed to endear himself to her. She bit her lips, and uncrossed her arms. "Oh, I see. Well then, mystery grandpa. I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard, Henry's teacher." She held out her hand. He muddled for a moment before reaching out slowly to take it briefly and his heart raced as he saw her flinch at the clasp of them, as if shocked by a current. She stepped back, obviously flustered.
"I have to get back inside..." She stumbled over her words, backtracking toward the main entrance of the school. "I would advise against trying to spy on the students, however, from now on. I would hate to have to call the Sheriff on you."
She was gone before he could call out to her, and his concern heightened at her frenzy. He wasn't trying to panic her or get her to leave; on the contrary, after so long without seeing her face, he wanted only for her to stand there, even chastise him if it meant hearing her voice. But instead, she disappeared between the double doors, throwing a glance back at him with an unreadable expression on her face.
He supposed that was a good sign at least. He wondered what had spooked her so.
"That stinks."
David jumped at the small voice, unexpected and more matter of fact than he would've expected from a child. He spun to meet the eyes of his grandson peering up at him through the twisted diamonds of the fence, his small hands wrapped around the chain almost as his own were only minutes before. He couldn't help but smile.
"What stinks?" David asked, knowing he should walk away, but somehow unable to do so. The discussion he'd had with Emma had been limited regarding Henry. His daughter was uncomfortable discussing her feelings that left her vulnerable, even with him, especially when it came to the child she had given up years before. But she had been clear about one thing-Stay clear of him. At least until she could get the situation figured out. He knew she would be furious if she found out he was here, talking with him.
"Ms. Blanchard. You wanted to talk with her more." He squinted up at the older man through the fence. "Do you think she's pretty?"
David choked out a laugh. "Uh...I think that's...that's a very good question..."
"Are you really my grandpa?"
The breath escaped his lungs so that he could not give an answer. He hadn't been loud, how the hell had the kid heard that? "Um...I...well..."
"You're Emma's dad. I saw you at the diner. So you'd be my grandpa."
Oh. Yes. That made more sense.He smiled. "Guilty, I suppose. You can call me David."
"David, huh? That's interesting." Henry hugged his book closed to his chest now, a small smile of satisfaction on his face. "I'm Henry."
"So i've heard." He crouched down to the boy's level, holding out his hand through the fence. "It's nice to meet you Henry."
After he took it, the boy relaxed back, letting his weight rest on his back leg. "Are you guys staying?"
Slightly taken aback, David smiled softly. Emma was right; he was inquisitive, very to the point, and apparently not at all afraid of pushing too hard. "I honestly don't know Henry. We're kind of stuck right now, because of our car but-"
He was cut off by the shrill of the school bell, drawing both their attention to the building. The children on the yard dropped their toys slowly and begrudgingly, walking back slowly to the doors as if to squeeze every second of their freedom from these last few minutes. Henry looked back up at him.
"Gotta go. It was nice to meet you. Will I see you again?"
David grinned. "I'm sure we will. But hey, do me a favor...don't mention this to your mom. Either of them. Not just yet; Emma doesn't exactly know I'm here."
The boy gazed at him questioningly but nodded. He felt a brief flash of shame in asking the boy to lie to his mother's, for him, but he rationalized it away with the idea that there was something bigger going on here than Emma could understand or accept; this was for the good of everyone. He raised a hand slowly, waving at the kid as he took off toward the building to join the other kids.
He stayed there for a bit, ignoring the teacher's warning as too many thoughts raced in his head. It would not be so easy, he knew. It couldn't be;
there would be much more to do before the curse could break. He played a fantasy over and over in his head, ten different ways of kissing Snow, of telling her the truth, of getting her to remember. Of a sure kiss against his lips and her warm arms around his neck, of happy tears. Of Emma finally meeting her mother. Of being happy.
But he knew that a kiss wouldn't work, and would only serve to frighten her. He knew, though, that there was no way he would be able to stay away; it was just too much to expect or to ask of himself after so long. He would need to work at it too; she had hurried away from, having been spooked by whatever feeling their handshake had triggered. She would be wary of him, most likely, a stranger in town who's only impression for her had been to be spying on children. He shook his head, mentally kicking himself for this course of action. He wanted to be with her, even if just as a friend, just until something changed.
Even then, he worried; the years had been kind to him, but he was still going to be nearly 30 years her senior. He had raised their daughter. What if he had changed? What if she couldn't love him any longer?
Movement from a window facing the field caught his eye, and as he squinted to bring the figure into focus, he saw her slim frame standing in front of it, her arms moving as she spoke to the children. He smiled to himself; gesturing such as that indicated she was excited about something. He wondered if it was a characteristic that had lingered in her persona as Mary Margaret.
He cursed inwardly as the figure turned, wishing deeply there was a tree he could hide behind. She frowned as she saw him, her arms pausing on the string to lower the blinds, but it quickly faded. It was a foggy look of confusion, of wonder, and of something he wasn't sure of. Her lips tweaked for a moment, something between a purse and a cheek bite, before she let go of the string and walked away back toward the front of the room, the blinds still open. His heart leapt; everything that that look may have been, it certainly wasn't dislike.
Maybe it was hope.
Jiminy's words of long ago came back to him. "How can she trust who you are, when she doesn't even know who she is?"
The answer was obvious. He was just going to have to make her fall in love with him all over again. He had done it twice before, he decided. How hard could it be do once more?
He laid on his bed later in the afternoon, having spent the better part of an hour staring at his ceiling, silent in thought. The last glance of her face remained at the forefront of his mind, the mixed feelings and confusion alighting a feeling inside of him that fueled a desire to stay here. A desire that Mr. Tillman at the garage had only given fruit to.
He had stopped by the garage on his way back from the school for an update on the car. Whatever part it was that they needed, it was apparently back ordered for a few weeks. The mechanic had given him and Emma a car for the time being, but very apologetically explained that because they were a single small business, it wasn't like they could leave and drop the car at a chain. They would need to stay until the part arrived. David had assured him it was alright, that staying in Storybrooke would not be such a tall order. Hopefully, he thought to himself, a few weeks was all they would need.
He had lost track of time when the sound of Emma's door closing pulled him from his bed. He jumped up, quick to go see where she was off to. He needed to let her know about the rental they had been given, about how they needed to stay for a bit longer. He caught her before she descended to the lobby, jogging over to her down the hall. She raised an eyebrow at his urgency.
"Where's the fire, pops?"
He smirked at her, nodding a bit. "You're very funny. Look, I wanted to just check where you were headed, and see when you were gonna be back. Can a father not be curious about that?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to hang out with Henry for a bit. I promised him I'd go check something out near the waterfront with him, after school. He wants to show me some book of his." She shrugged. "I'll try and be back around 6, if that works?"
"Yeah, that's good. I'll wait to eat until then."
"Okay well. If that's it..."
"Ah, not quite." He fished the keys from his pocket. "Mr. Tillman said the part for the truck is back ordered and it's gonna be a few more weeks. But he gave us a car to get around town in. Here." He tossed them to her and she grabbed them with a frown.
"We can't just drop it off back home?"
"No, since they're not a chain." He shrugged. "It's outside; just a white pickup, but it's better than hoofin' it everywhere. I'll walk you down and show you."
When they hit the landing and made it outside, he watched her drive away in contentment. She seemed to be fine with the news of their extended stay, and she seemed almost looking forward to hanging out with Henry. He hoped the boy would keep quiet about their discussion. The last thing he wanted was for Emma to get upset at him.
Lost in thought, he was only pulled from it as a black sports car pulled up to the curb, its windows tinted so he could not see the driver inside.
The back passenger window rolled down to reveal the top of a man's face. He was met with a blank stare.
"Mr. Shepherd, I assume?"
David felt a slight sense of alarm at the man's question. They had been in town a few days, and he was sure it had drawn some unwanted attention. He shifted awkwardly, taking a step away from the vehicle. "You assume correct. Is there something I can do for you, Mr..."
"Glass. Sidney Glass. I'm the mayor's personalassistant." He coughed before continuing. "She has requested a meeting with you. Mayor Mills prides herself in taking an interest in all of Storybrook's citizens, and would like to get to know you a bit."
His heart began to race. An interest in all the citizens; I bet she does."Well, I'm really not a citizen. Just passing through here until the car is fixed."
"Even so. She loves to hear what people think of the town. Please, join me."
David swallowed hard. "Mr. Glass, I really appreciate the concern, but we're very content with the town, and I have my own things to do today."
He spun on his heel quickly, heading back toward the bed and breakfast in a hurry as he heard the car door open behind him.
"Mr. Shepherd, I really do insist. Unless, you'd like me have your daughter speak with her instead."
The man's tone was light and non-threatening, and if he had to guess, David would suppose he had no idea what Regina was asking. But David understood it, loud and clear. He stopped in his tracks, clenching and unclenching his fists for a moment before turning back.
"I don't have very long. I need to be back around 5 or my daughter will know something is wrong."
"Why would anything be wrong, sir?" The assistant smiled, a bit more smug than David would've liked, and he realized, even if the man did not totally understand the gravity of the situation at hand, he was certainly all in Regina's pocket, through and through.
The ride to the Mayor's office on the hill was a short but tense one. Glass asked a few innocent questions-how their stay had been, were they enjoying their time at Granny's, had they experienced anything in particular that they very much enjoyed-all of which David replied to with short, clipped statements. When they pulled up to the office, a man in black opened the passenger side door at the curb and Sidney followed David in the double doors, directing him to the Mayor's office on the second floor. When they arrived, closing the door behind him, she sat with her back to them, facing the wall.
"Madam Mayor, Mr. Shepherd is here to see you." Sidney spoke, a self-congratulatory smirk upon his face. David almost felt sorry for him; he wore an expression of desperation on his face, of a man absolutely enamored by the object of their affection in front of him...but David knew, she could love no man anymore. She proved it so in her following words.
"Leave us, Mr. Glass. I would like to speak to Mr. Shepherd, alone."
She did not thank him, nor praise him. He did as she asked though, with a slight delay and a crestfallen expression. When the door clicked behind him, David steeled himself straight.
Do not react, he told himself. Act as if you don't know who she is. Act as if you have no idea what is happening.
He had no idea if she knew who he was; he anticipated it, yes. But he didn't know if she was sure of how the curse would've affected him, and Emma. She may not have even known where they had escaped to; maybe something had gone wrong with the wardrobe, sent them to another land. He needed to pass off that Mr. Shepherd and his daughter truly were hapless tourist's who had lost their way. If it were anything else, he feared what she may do...even without magic.
"Mr. Shepherd." She rose from her chair, her tone even and a little smug. She turned to face him, and he swallowed hard, mentally forcing himself not to react at all. He let his chin raise in acknowledgement, but he kept his fist from clenching. For the first time in almost 30 years, he beheld the
sight of the Evil Queen Regina.
She slunk around her desk, wearing a form fitting black dress and stiletto heels that commanded attention at every click on her feet. She made her way to a cabinet of bottles where she pulled something that looked like a half empty bottle of scotch and lifted it in his direction. "Would you like a drink?"
He cleared his throat. "Um, no ma'am. I was just...I was wondering...why you asked me here."
She regarded him very curiously then, as a student would a science project, trying to read a tell if he had one. She shrugged her shoulders, looking down as she poured herself a drink and picked up the glass, walking to the front of her polished desk and leaning against it. She held the glass by the rim, her wrist rotating as the amber liquor swished around inside. "I've heard of your predicament, I just wanted to meet with you. See if there was anything I could do to help."
"Mr. Tillman has been extremely helpful so far. Everyone in town has actually. There's a lot of good people here." He fought to keep his voice even and aloof, forcibly keeping himself from stalking over and accosting her. She smiled softly, again dipping her head so a stray strand fell in her face.
"Well, we pride ourselves on our hospitality." She looked up, eyes narrowed as she feigned deep thought. "You are not here alone, if I'm correct?"
He cleared his throat. "No, ma'am, I'm not. My daughter is with me."
Her brows arched. "Oh, yes. I believe I heard something about a new pretty young lady in town. Emma, is her name?"
His brow was growing warm, a thin sheen of sweat now settling there. "Yes, that's her." He swallowed. "Ma'am, I have some things I wanted to take care of, and I really should be getting back..."
"No Mrs. Shepherd, to speak of?" She inquired, raising a glass. "I did hope to get to know you a bit, Mr. Shepherd, as I do always want to know the most about those here in Storybrooke. Nothing too personal, of course. Just so that if I saw you on the street..."
"I am a single father, ma'am, I always have been."
He could tell she was fishing, that she wanted an answer. But it really wasn't her business; even if he were some run of the mill passerby, it wouldn't really be her business to intrude on his personal life. He needed to consider this an opportunity, though. A chance to fill her head with an idea that he really wasn't a threat; that Emma wasn't a threat. That their knowledge of the curse, of the citizens of Storybrooke's true identities were completely unknown. He bit his lip, shaking his head as her head seemed to rise a few inches, wary of his defensive tone.
"Um, well...not that it's really any of your business, but her mother..." His voice shook and he had to look away. "I don't really know. I assume she left."
"You...assume."
"I was found with Emma, when she was only a few hours old. I had no recollection of who or where I was. But I knew she was mine." His voice grew tough, and protective. "And I knew that I would protect her. No matter what. Look, Ms. Mills, I'm not sure why you're so curious of my family's history. It's a bit disconcerting that you, as a public official, would want to keep such tabs on the tourists in the town, but my life and my family's past is really not as exciting as one may think. I'd really like the opportunity to leave. My daughter and I have a dinner date, and I would hate to be late for it."
"I assure you, I didn't mean to pry. Just...natural curiosity, I suppose. I apologize if I were being rude." She set the glass down next to her, resting her hands on the table.
"It's all right." He clasped his hands in front of him in a clapping motion, biting down on his lower lip with a sigh. "If that's all, Ms. Mills? I really need to be going."
"Of course. Please, Mr. Shepherd, come see me if there is anything I can help you or your daughter with. I'm sure you're eager to be getting home."
He held her gaze for a moment after the offer left her lips. It was clear she was not completely placated, that she knew who he was but did not feel threatened enough to do something wicked. He merely nodded, swallowing hard, letting his gaze drop before he turned toward the door. "I appreciate that, Mayor. Have a good day."
She stared at the double doors of her office long after he retreated through them. He had seemed genuine enough; David had always been a bit impulsive when it came to the woman he loved, charging head long into conflict in such valiant effort to save her or anyone else he held dear, rather imprudently as it were. This man was much older; his hair was not thinning on his head, but it grew whiter at it's sides, and he had maintained a decent physique for all of his years.
And it seemed, developed some semblance of control. She rocked back and forth softly, controlling her growing anxiety. Did he truly not know who she was? Was there something of the outside world that had affected him adversely? Or had living so long in this reality driven him to believe his past may truly be all in his mind?
She couldn't take that chance. She needed to maintain her defense. While he may have been impulsive once, he was a young man no longer and had raised a child, one she knew he would do anything to keep safe-and that especially included lying. Henry's face floated into her thoughts, calming her nerves. Henry. How a child could change you...for the better, she knew now. She took a deep breath.
Yes, she would keep tabs on Snow's Charming. But until they provoked her, she would leave well enough alone. The curse was still intact, and even if Charming was telling a bald faced lie, there was no telling how prepared or unprepared Emma may be to face her. Without magic, she was not as strong of a force as she would've been back home but she still had power on her side as Mayor. She would defend her place in this town and prevent anything from going awry. And if something began to change from that...
Her gaze landed on the bowl of blood Red Delicious decorating the table off to the side of the room, her lips quirking into a smirk. Well, then, another course of action would need to be explored.
Emma was surprised that Henry was easily able to find her after the school bell rang. She had half expected to have to go into the school, maybe even meet this illustrious parent of his who seemed to hold something strange over the town. But when she arrived at the school, 15 minutes before the bell rang for dismissal, Henry was one of the first one's out, clutching the old leather bound storybook in his arms as his eyes scanned the curbside for Emma. When he saw her and the truck, he lit up and bolted to her.
"You came!" He exclaimed, and she couldn't help but grin back, his joy at seeing her warming her from within. She even reached out, ruffling his hair.
"I told you I would." She smiled. "You're sure this is okay with your mom?"
"She'll be at work for hours, she doesn't really care what I do."
Emma frowned at his words, spoken so easily and so obviously truthful, that it almost pained her. He obviously wanted for nothing; he wore nice clothes and had what he needed. But she thought of growing up with her single father; luckily she had had Roger and Ruth, home cooked meals when he couldn't be there, and someone always to tuck her in. But a mother as the mayor and no one else to speak of to stay with him...she wondered how commonplace it was for him to take care of himself most of the time. Not to accuse the woman of neglect; but what of loneliness?
He directed her to the side of the bay, where a rickety looking play set stood, a few different levels with makeshift turrets and a slide sat over looking the water. It was a crude imitation of what seemed to be a castle, if she had to guess. She pulled to the side and he leaped from the passenger seat, scurrying toward the structure as Emma followed closely. As he made himself at home on after climbing up to the first level, he didn't hesitate to flip through the storybook he always seemed to have on him, his mouth screwed as he shifted through it.
"Henry...you did tell her you were meeting me though, right?" Her brow furrowed. "I don't want to interfere or to intrude on your life or hers. She's your mom, and me being around you..."
It pulled him from his apparent search. "You don't want to hang out with me?"
"Henry, your mom might not like it." She pointed out. "And i'll take that as a no."
He shrugged. "I don't see why she has to know." He shook his head, pointing to the page. "Besides, like I said; she's the evil queen. And you're the one who's going to help break the curse. So if she knows you're in town, and you're helping me..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?" She climbed up next him, sitting close on the platform of the play set. He had shown her the storybook in detail in the diner, but it had mostly been an exhibit of fairy tales, tweaked only a bit from the traditional tales she had grown up with. And while he had mentioned a curse, there had been no addressing that she was directly involved. She laughed a bit at him, sure he must have meant something else, but he looked at her with a stony expression. "Henry..."
"No, look." He flipped to the last page that illustrated a scene of a man with an infant in his arms, climbing into a large tree trunk, his face despondent and a sword tucked close to him. "See? That's your dad, Prince Charming, like what I told you from the diner. He was married to Snow White."
She felt like she was going to throw up at the mention of the well-known princess; she was not someone he had brought up yesterday. "Henry, I don't think this is a good idea." She spoke firmly, pushing the book away. "An active imagination is a wonderful thing to have..."
"It's not my imagination." He interrupted. "And it's true. She's my teacher, and she's trapped here. Don't you understand what that means?"
"It means you need help, kid." She jumped off the platform, shaking her head.
"She's your mo-" He began, but she spun around, her expression hard and angry.
"My mother abandoned my father and I, long before you were even a thought in existence, kid. She is gone. And she's never coming back. And that's the way it is. It's just me, and my dad, and that's the way I like it." She was breathing heavily, her outburst causing the boy to settle back a bit, his eyes wide. When she realized that she had startled him, she backtracked. "This is...this is something that, if you ever come across my dad, you don't mention it to him, you understand? You never tell him about your book, okay?"
"But why? If it's only my imagination?"
"Because my mom messed him up." She snapped. "And he's coped with it in, in really bad ways over the years. And I don't need this making things worse. All I want to do, is get our car fixed and go home. And I don't want him to hurt anymore." She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."
"Emma, please-!"
"Henry, I don't want to talk about this anymore." She shook her head. "Come on. Let's get you home. I don't need your mom finding out about me by keeping you out without her permission."
The ride home was unpleasantly silent, and when she pulled up next to the large home of the Mayor, he lingered at the car door. "Are you mad at me?"
He asked softly, his head lowered. Emma felt her heart break a little. She shifted the truck into park and leaned over toward him.
"Henry, of course not. I love my dad. And I just don't want to see him hurt. We had a few fights over the years because of her, and I don't want to ever revisit them. My mother, whoever she was, didn't care about him, or me. Fairytales aren't real. I know things are rough with your mom, but it doesn't mean she's an evil witch. If she's tough on you, it's because she loves you. You should be thankful that you have a mom."
He was quiet for a few moments before he looked up at her, his eyes shining with tears. "You're wrong. You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it to you. Your mom loved you a lot, she was just keeping you safe. I'll show you."
The words did make her mad, but she just pursed her lips, steeling herself to remain calm. "Goodnight Henry. I'll see you soon."
He scowled, turning and running up the path to the front door of the mansion. She could hear the front door slam behind him in anger. Emma sighed, a small growl escaping as she settled back against the seat and hit the steering wheel.
Fairy tales and family drama; at least she had a night with the Sheriff to look forward to. Other than that, well...their jeep couldn't be fixed fast enough.
The cool fall air was a relief to him as he burst from the Mayor's office in a fury. Any restraint he had mustered during the exchange was now gone,
and as he turned a corner of an alleyway, surreptitiously gazing around to ensure no one could see him, he brought his fist up to the cracked brick of the side of the building and slammed it into the side.
It hurt. It felt good.
He did it a few more times, his knuckles bleeding and feeling just a tad bit concerned he had broken his hand. But he felt better, the violent upheaval of emotions regarding the discussion he'd just walked away from fading with every blow. He frowned as he looked at his hand, now turning red from the strikes. He winced as he clenched the fist, shoving it in his pocket and walking back out toward the street. It was a few miles to the bed and breakfast at Granny's and he still had more than enough time to wash up before dinner with Emma. The walk would do him well, and he would still have a couple of hours to make this look like nothing. He would just tell her he fell; she wouldn't question it.
Mary Margaret Blanchard had been taking the same route home, at the same time, every day since she could remember. She would leave the school around a half hour after dismissal, packing up the papers and tests of the day to grade at home. She take her station wagon 2 blocks north to where Tony's sat on the corner, the take a left to stay en route to her apartment a little over 3 miles from there, passing by the central part of town. Granny's, the Library.
The Mayor's office.
She thought of the man she had encountered that afternoon. He didn't seem quite old enough to have a ten year old grandson; he didn't seem that old to her at all. And he'd had a nice smile. And pretty eyes. And a kind, jovial tone to his voice that she couldn't help...
She shook her head. Whatever was the matter with her?! He was an older man...a much older man, from what he had said. He was a stranger, who had been lurking around the grounds. Who knows if she could take his word for it? Who knew if he were telling the truth about Henry, and the Mayor and his daughter?
But his smile.
If she would've been so inclined, she would've smacked herself out of her thoughts.
And then she saw him.
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as she stopped and stared. He was glowering deeply, obviously lost in thought as he stormed down the sidewalk toward Granny's. But it was cold, and it was still more than a mile and he was holding his hand strangely; at a closer, focused glance, it looked almost to be hurt. For reasons she couldn't quite defend, she pulled up beside him, never turning off her car as she leaned over and rolled the window down. He looked completely taken aback.
"Ms. Blanchard?" He asked, his tone confused. "What..."
"Oh, good. You remember me." She shrugged, offering a small smile. "I was terribly rude to you earlier. Would you like a ride back to where you're staying? You look cold and..." She nodded toward the hand he pulled tight into his chest. If his cheeks weren't already red from the cold wind, she would've sworn he was blushing.
When he climbed in the passenger seat, uttering excuses, telling her she really didn't have to-he settled in all the same. "You know," He began. "You really weren't rude. I was a stranger."
"Well, true. But you're not now. And you weren't really a stranger." She smiled a bit more. "Henry told me about you a bit. Says you're here to save the day."
This time it was definitely a blush. "Oh god, did he now? Emma mentioned something along those lines." He smiled softly, shaking his head. "These old bones, probably not much in the way of saving anything."
"You're not that old." She replied somewhat quickly, then ducked her head, embarrassed before shaking it. "You're staying at Granny's?"
"I am." He replied smoothly.
"What were you doing out by yourself in the cold like that?"
His face darkened. "The Mayor wanted to have a chat. Get to know the visitors in town."
"Oh." She replied, stopping the car as she pulled up to a stop sign. A little more than mile to go to the bed and breakfast. The mayor was someone she had never gotten along with. It always seemed as if Regina was always a bit off with her; she swore she could feel a glare being directed her way, a comment made that seemed passive aggressive and cruel. She couldn't figure out quite why, so she really just avoided her at all costs. "Yes, well. That's Regina."
He snorted, as if he knew exactly what Regina was like, which Mary found odd as he was still new to town. He shook his head. "I really shouldn't let her get to me. But she is so infuriating, and arrogant. The way she speaks, as if..." He stopped, cutting himself off as he took a deep breath. "I apologize, this is rude of me. My...my wife always said I needed to reign in my temper, especially when it came to those we disliked strongly."
It threw her for a loop as her chest tightened at the mention of a wife. Thank God they were at the bed and breakfast. She pulled up to the curb, putting the car in park. "Well, it sounds like she knows you well. I would expect someone to, after so much time together."
He looked at her then, raising his eyes to study her face. After a few silent moments, he smiled softly. "She did. She...hasn't been in our lives for a very long time."
Mary felt like kicking herself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"It's alright, it's okay." He even chuckled. "I brought it up, and I shouldn't have. I need to get going, but thank you for the ride."
"You're very welcome." She smiled back. She was a little disappointed, she found, as he climbed out of the seat an seemed to make his way toward the front of Granny's yard.
But then he stopped, he hesitated before closing the door and he turned, ducking his head back into the passenger side. "Ms. Blanchard...would you like to grab coffee sometime?"
She didn't know what to do. Her eyes flew open in shock, her breath catching in her throat and after a few gaping moments in which his face went a bit pale, she managed to sputter something out. "Mr. Shepherd, I don't really think..."
He laughed then, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as his smiled widened. "As friends, Ms. Blanchard. You're the first person in Storybrooke to go out of their way for me-except for Granny and Ruby so far-and I'd like to repay you. Maybe, become friends. Would you like that, Ms. Blanchard?"
He stared at her, never breaking eye contact and she felt as if she were weightless. She managed a small chuckle and dipped her head, working to say something that made sense-although none of this did. He was old; he was old enough to be her father, and yet her she was, mooning over him like schoolgirl with a crush.
In her defense, he was very handsome, even for his age.
"Ms. Blanchard?"
His voice caused her to look up at him once more. "Mary. Please call me Mary. And yes. I'd love to grab coffee sometime."
"How's about Wednesday?" He asked. "After you get done with school. Around 8 or 9?"
She smiled. "That sounds nice. I will see you at Granny's."
He smile broadened. "All right then. You have a good night...Mary."
The ride back to her apartment was short, but it seemed like it took no time at all. Her head was swimming. She'd had dates before with some of the men in Storybrooke, but none of them had ever gone anywhere. And the prospect of them had never made her feel this way before.
"It's not a date." She whispered to herself, shaking her head as she turned off her car and headed inside. It was just that; just a cup of coffee with a new acquaintance, a newcomer whom hoped to make himself some friends in a strange new place.
It was nothing like that. He had been clear about it, she had been clear about it. It was nothing like that.
The fast pace of her heart was just from climbing the stairs.
AN: Emma is going to be a bit different with Henry in this story than in the show; not because her capacity to love Henry is any less, because I believe she does have that. But she's grown up with her dad; she's grown up with a family. She doesn't need it, or yearn for it as the Emma in the show does. As far as she's concerned, Henry is bringing up these issues that are the only thing that has ever harmed her and her father's relationship, so she's sensitive to that. To her, Henry has a parent though, while possibly a little absent, still cares for him and provides for him. So the relationship is probably going to be less of a parent-child one, like the show has, and more of a friend one with him, as I'm not super crazy with the adoption/birthmom storyline the show so easily takes either.