Emma frowned at the TV screen, munching on her cereal as the weather played. It looked like it wasn't going to be a great day. She sighed. Sheriff's duties expanded to making sure people were prepared for and safe from the storm.
She looked up, one eyebrow quirked, setting the bowl on the counter. Mary Margaret rushed out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth. She pulled on her shoes as quickly as possible, setting the brush on the counter with a clatter and spitting into the sink.
"I can't believe I overslept," she lamented, checking her watch briefly.
Emma glanced at the clock to verify that the time hadn't run away without her noticing. "It's only seven ten. You've got plenty of time to get to school."
"No, I have to be there at seven fifteen – science fair," she insisted, pulling on her hat, draping her scarf haphazardly around her throat, and grabbing her bag. "I'm helping the kids with their project before school."
Had she told her roommate about her superpower? She couldn't quite recall. Not that the lie wasn't blatant all on its own. Suspecting it had something to do with David, she decided to play along. "I'm sure if you're five minutes late they'll live."
Mary Margaret shook her head, rushing out the door. "We're making a volcano."
"Okay," said Emma, to the empty apartment. She finished her breakfast, shut off the TV, and left the house. Walking towards Granny's, she saw Mary Margaret there, talking to David. She sighed, taking the back entrance instead.
"This is making a volcano?" she asked, approaching her roommate's table.
"I was—"
"I get it," Emma cut her off, wanting her to know that she was forgiven, and understood.
"He comes here every morning at seven fifteen AM to get coffee," said Mary Margaret, tearing her gaze on the pavement where the car had been.
"For him and his wife," Emma reminded her gently.
"I know, I know, I know. I just like to … come here to see him."
Emma, endeavouring to lighten the mood somewhat, asked. "So you're a stalker?"
"No, not really … maybe a little bit. I mean, it's not like I'm following him. I just know that he spends his mornings with Kathryn, gets coffee, then drives to the animal shelter to start work at seven thirty and then he's home around five."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Thursdays they pick up Chinese for dinner," she added quickly. Another sigh. "I can't get him out of my head."
"I know. Maybe the first step is not showing up here tomorrow."
"Love's the worst. I wish there was a magic cure."
"So do we all," said Emma, patting her hand.
"What about you?" Mary Margaret asked, evidently desperate for a change of subject.
Emma raised her eyebrows. "What about me?"
"Killian? You two seemed to work well together. You think maybe—?"
She shook her head. "Oh – no. No."
Mary Margaret cocked her head to the side. "Why not? He's a nice guy, not hard on the eyes—"
"Ooh!" Ruby appeared like a moth drawn to a flame. "Who are we talking about?"
"No one," said Emma, sternly. Ruby pouted.
"Killian," Mary Margaret whispered. The traitor.
"To be honest, I would've climbed that boy like a tree, if he wasn't …"
"If he wasn't what?" Emma asked, almost wincing when Ruby grinned wolfishly.
"If he wasn't hung up on you, Princess."
"No. Nuh-uh."
"Belle!" Ruby called suddenly. The librarian looked up from the Daily Mirror, frowning as Ruby beckoned her to the table. She came over, however. Emma sighed heavily, barely resisting the urge to bang her head off the table.
"You know Killian well, right?" Ruby asked.
"Um … yeah."
"Wouldn't you say he's quite fond of our Sheriff here?"
Emma was mercifully saved from her mortification when her phone chirped with a message from the station. With a loud and firm, "Goodbye," she fled the diner.
The message turned out to be a 'friendly' reminder from the Mayoral Office of her duties as Sheriff during the storm. She stared (or rather glared) at the message that cited one of those duties as speaking to the people who worked at the docks about the risk of flooding.
She really did bang her head against the desk.
"Hey," Emma smiled to the man at the fish stall. "Aiden, right? I'm Emma Swan. I'm supposed to talk to you about flood risks?"
To her surprise (though, if Ruby was to be believed, she shouldn't have been surprised at all), he smiled brightly back. "Sheriff Swan! I've heard a lot about you!"
"Yeah, I caused quite the splash, apparently. Crashing into the sign and running for Sheriff and … actually, a lot happened since I got here. Huh."
Aiden laughed. "I don't think there's a flooding risk for the town. We're going to shut up shop now, anyway. Killian's just – did you want to speak with him, too?"
"A second opinion wouldn't hurt," she said, after a pause, deciding that avoiding him would likely make things worse. Aiden nodded.
"Killian! Sheriff wants to talk to you!"
His head appeared around the open door of a nearby van, where he was loading up unsold fish. "Swan! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Murmuring her thanks to Aiden, she moved over to where Killian stood.
"Turns out that being Sheriff entails more than I thought," she remarked. "Including making sure that we're safe from the almighty rage of the sea," she made a hand gesture that implied a huge wave. Or she thought it did, anyway. "Not exactly sure how I'm supposed to do that, but … here I am."
Killian smiled. "You're supposed to get the expert opinions of the people who work here. We've seen much worse storms; we're fine."
"Okay, great."
"You're still here," said Killian, a minor hint of teasing in his voice.
"Yeah."
"Any ideas as to why?"
She did. The idea had been in her mind ever since he himself had broached the topic; "Looks like you could use a deputy." And then Mary Margaret had said they worked well together …
"I wanted to ask if you'd like to be my deputy."
He blinked. "Deputy?"
"Yeah," Emma nodded. "It's been kind of quiet at the station since …" she glanced at the bootlace on her wrist, and swallowed. "And I figured I could use some help. And you were. A help, I mean. With the Zimmer twins."
"You found their father. You convinced him to take them."
"Still."
"Emma, I have a job. My employer is right there, in fact."
She rolled her eyes. "A job you complain about daily."
"How do you—? Ah, of course. Wendy."
Emma smiled. "She's a good kid. She worries too much about you, is all."
"We worry for each other," Killian explained. "After her parents—"
"I get it," said Emma, some distant part of her mind reminding her that she'd said the same to Mary Margaret earlier that day. "Believe me, I get it. The foster system is not a nice place."
"I promised I'd look after her."
"And her seeing you unhappy isn't going to help," she pointed out. "Look, I'm not trying to force you into anything, but I'm sure that this would be better for you than selling fish," she glanced over her shoulder in sudden fear that the man had overheard their conversation, and quickly added. "No offence to Aiden, he seems like a good guy. So … think about it, okay?"
"I will," he inclined his head. "You have my word."
"Good. See you around, then, Jones."
"And you, Swan."
Regina approached the squad car as Emma loaded supplies into it. She turned to face the mayor. "If you're looking to blame me for the storm, I think you're taking things a bit far now.
"I need you to look into something, Sheriff. Someone's in town – someone new."
"Yeah, I know," she replied, placing a bag in the boot of the car. "I gave him directions to Granny's the other night."
"You talked to him? What'd he say?"
"He asked for directions," she replied, frowning. "What's the big deal? Who is he?"
"I don't know. I asked around, but no one seems to know anything. There's something about him. Something familiar."
"He must be one of the untold millions you cursed," she smirked.
Regina didn't appear to be in a joking mood, however. "What?"
"Oh, you know. The curse. Henry's whole thing."
"Sheriff, I need you to find out who he is, what he wants and what he's doing here."
"You know, as hard as you tried to find one in my case, there is no law against visiting Storybrooke."
"This isn't about the law, Miss Swan. You're going to do this because I asked you to. And because you'll see it's the right thing to do."
"And why is that?" she challenged, closing the boot and resting a hand on it.
"Because he was in front of my house. Taking a particular interest in the one thing we both care about – Henry."
Emma stiffened. If this guy was interested in Henry, then maybe she should find out more about him. "I'll look into him."
It wasn't until later in the day when she found an opportunity to do so. She stepped into Granny's – a welcome refuge from the storm – shaking the rain from her coat (hey, if it worked for dogs). She glanced over at one of the occupied booths, and noticed the stranger sitting there. Sighing, and pulling off her hat, she approached.
"We need to talk."
He didn't turn his head. "Why?"
"Because …" she walked around the table to face him. "You're suspicious."
"Sitting here, out in the open," he gestured around him, "drinking coffee. I wonder what kind of hell I would've raised had I ordered a donut."
She narrowed her eyes at him, unamused, as Regina had been when she'd joked earlier. "You were talking to Henry."
"You mean the little kid who came up to me asking me questions? Is that unusual for him? Being curious and precocious?"
She kept her gaze even. "What were you doing outside his house?"
"My bike broke down. It happens."
"Your mysterious box," her eyes flickered to it, "what's in it?"
"It's awfully frustrating not knowing, isn't it?"
"Just tell me."
"Why? Is it illegal to carry around a box in these parts?"
"No, of course it's not."
"You really want to know what's inside it, don't you?"
"No."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, maybe," she conceded, sitting across from the man.
"I'm going to make you wait. You're going to have to wait a long time and watch me carry it around. Hauling it to strange and mysterious places. And with each passing moment, the mystery will become more tantalizing. Your imagination will inflame, but so will your frustration. Never knowing – only guessing – what could possibly be inside that box?"
She raised her eyebrow in the universal 'are you serious right now?' expression.
"Or," he leaned across the table. "You could let me buy you a drink sometime and I'll tell you right now."
"You want to buy me a drink?"
"Yes." He sounded as if her were agreeing battle terms, not asking her out.
"Okay. A drink it is."
He took the box from underneath the booth, setting it on the table and unlocking it.
"Really?" she asked, glancing from the aged typewriter to him.
"I'm a writer."
"That's why you're here?"
"I find this place provides …" he tapped the box with a finger, "inspiration. Don't you?" He locked the box once more, standing to leave.
"Wait. Have you been here before?"
"I didn't say that," he shook his head, throwing some money on the table to pay for his coffee.
"What about that drink?" she called after him, as he headed towards the entrance to the B&B.
"I said sometime."
"Creep," she muttered. "Coffee please, Ruby."
"Who was that?" asked Killian, sitting in the seat that the stranger had just vacated, shaking rain from his hair.
"He wouldn't tell me his name. Regina said he was talking to Henry this morning."
"Small towns are usually distrustful," said Killian, pausing to order a muffin. Ruby smirked at Emma as she passed. "You should remember that."
"I think that was mainly Regina."
"And look who has you checking up on this guy?"
Emma sighed. "Okay, fair point. But … I don't want him around Henry until I at least know his name."
"I get it. Just, don't turn me into a sniffer dog."
She raised her eyebrows.
"If I accept your offer. If."
"Okay," she bit her lip to hide her smile, not even glaring at Ruby as she brought their orders.
I was warring with myself about whether Ruby and Mary Margaret would actually do that, and decided that they probably would. It was fun to write, in any case.
