A/N- not a whole lot of Captain Swan interaction here. But definitely some Emma/Henry fluff and some Emma/Neal backstory.

Also, to clarify, some people are confused with Neal being Mary Margaret and David's son. This is not the 'baby' Neal, this is Neal Cassidy, Henry's dad and MM and David are Cassidy's. I've done this to parallel with the movie, because in it, Lucy has to deal with her in-laws trying to control her life. MM and David aren't the type of people who would do that, but I wanted Emma to feel a need to become her own person on her own terms, and I didn't think making them her actual parents would work. They do sort of adopt her into the family, though and very much treat her as if she was their own. I hope that clarifies things for everyone. If not, please feel free to leave me a message.

Keep up with the love, it makes me type faster! Thanks again everyone.

Dishonesty

The first pink rays of dawn were just beginning to touch the sky when Emma awoke. Her sleep had once again been plagued by vivid but unrecallable dreams and when she came to, it took her several minutes to remember exactly where she was. Her heart felt fluttery in her chest, like the aftermath of a panic attack. Taking a few moments to just breathe, she let her mind drift back to all that had occurred yesterday.

Gold. The lawsuit. Jones.

She shook away the last thought, not yet ready to face why his parting words to her were so troubling.

Pulling the blankets up tighter, she snuggled down into her bed, as if trying they could help her hide from the reality of her situation.

She could lose this house. She could lose everything. Again. She always lost everything. Maybe it was her destiny to have the worst luck in the universe. Maybe this was all her fault. After all, she did call Gold right after Neal died and berate him for getting Neal mixed up in the whole mess.

Maybe she should have just punched him in the face and gotten it over with, especially if he's going to try to pin a harassment charge on her anyway.

If Gold won, she would be back at square one, worse than that, actually, since she would not only be out of all her savings, but a place to live as well. Just thinking about anything involving Neal, Gold, or the trial sent her blood pressure to record highs. But she couldn't allow herself to dwell on this, not now, not when she was unable to actually do anything to fight back. Swallowing back the bile rising in her stomach, she clutched harder at her sheets, twisting them tightly around her wrists, and forced herself to count to ten. It didn't help.

Only the sounds of Henry stirring from his room were able to knock her out of her spiral and she quickly took all those angry, helpless, self-loathing thoughts and pushed them down deep. The last thing her son needed was to see his mother, the only parent he had left, fall apart. She had to be strong for him. She had to ensure Henry's happiness at any cost.

With one last grimace, Emma left her bed and went to greet her son.

"Morning, kid!" She said as cheerily as she could manage, even though she knew her smile wasn't nearly as bright as her words.

Henry rolled over lazily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Mom, it's too eawly."

Emma scooped her boy from the bed, blowing a quick raspberry into his stomach. "Well, then, you shouldn't have got up yet."

Giggling and squirming, he begged to be put down. "But you said we can go to the beach today."

Emma glanced out the window. Already, she could tell the day would be bright and warm, the perfect escape from her dark thoughts. "Well, then I suppose you need to hurry up and get ready." She sat him down on the ground and he wasted no time running to his chest of drawers and pulling out his clothes for the day, choosing a pair of shorts and a long sleeved t-shirt. Before she could stop him, he had thrown his pyjamas on the ground and was wiggling his way into his pants and shirt.

"Okay, kid. I still have to get dressed, too. Plus you're forgetting about something."

He paused, his face peeping through the neck hole and his arms hanging out stiffly to the side. "What?"

She chuckled and bent down, helping him pull the shirt completely over his head. "Why, breakfast, of course, my prince."

Suddenly, Henry frowned, looking up imploringly at her with his cocoa brown eyes. "Mom. I don't want to be Pwince Henwy." Emma tried not to let him see how much his cute little speech impediment affected her, knowing that he would completely exploit it for his own purposes if he caught on.

She adopted the most serious face she could muster. "Is that so? Well, then, what do you want to be?"

"I wanna be a piwate, mom."

"Really? Why?

He rolled his eyes in a move that was an scarily exact imitation of her. "Duh. We wive in a piwate ship."

She poked him in his stomach playfully. "Sorry. I guess I forgot. So a pirate, not a prince." She watched him nodded fervently. "Why can't you be a pirate prince and rule the high seas?"

The way his eyes grew in wonder would have had her nearly choking on laughter if she hadn't been so close to tearing up. It only took him a moment to catch up and then he was jumping up and down in excitement. "Henwy, the piwate pwince!" He shouted, running around his room and muttering pirate-y sounding things like "avast matey!" and "I'ma make you walk the pwank!"

She continued silently laughing as he grabbed her hand and pulled her downstairs to make breakfast for them. "Let's get you some victuals, young sir," she replied. "Then, we can go see what kind of treasures we can find today."

One of the best things about the location of Misthaven Cottage was its proximity to a small strip of semi-coarse sand. About a mile further down, the sand smoothed out and the beach area became more used by the general public. But here, just under the tall ledge that the cottage sat upon, the beach wasn't as crowded and to Emma, it felt as if they were in a world all their own.

"Henry," Emma called out as her son ran back from where he had been exploring a small tide pool in the rocky formation under the cliff face. "Be careful over there. Those rocks are sharp and slippery and if you fall, you might end up in the water."

Henry eyed the rocks he had come from and nodded. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back to the spot he was playing in. She answered his questions about the content of the pool, but her knowledge of marine life was woefully deficient. I bet Jones would know what all these shells are called, she thought with a smile, but quickly shook away the intruding thought, reminding herself that now was not the time. She needed to be here for Henry not dwelling on a certain mysterious sea captain.

The soft waves beating against the rocky outcropping lulled the two of them into a sleepy daze, and it wasn't long until they both felt a tired languidness tugging at them. "C'mon, kid. Let's get going."

It was like flipping a switch. One moment, he was yawning and blinking his eyes, but the moment he was forced to leave, he perked right up. "I wanna go see the boats. I need to pwotect the town fwom other piwates." He pleaded, throwing in a pout for good measure.

How am I ever supposed to say no to this kid? This is not good, Emma. "Sure thing, kid. But we can't stay too long. Mommy could use a nap."

…..

Predictably, Henry crashed the moment they came home. After spending almost an hour watching the boats pull in and out of the harbor, they stopped briefly at Granny's for a late lunch. Ruby was there and she beamed at Henry as if he owned the sun.

"Emma," Ruby greeted her warmly. Turning to Henry, she ruffled his hair with her free hand. "And you must be the man of the house," she teased.

"I'm a piwate pwince," Henry corrected, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

Ruby grinned brightly. "My mistake." She leaned down and placed a steaming mug in front of him. "Your hot chocolate, highness."

He offered her a friendly smile before accidentally giving himself a whipped cream and cinnamon mustache.

Emma reached over, cleaned off his face, and sighed happily.

"Everything alright, Ems?" Ruby asked, offering her a knowing look.

Emma looked down, trying not to frown at the memories she had drudged up. "For now."

Ruby acted like she wanted to say more, but with Henry present, she kept her mouth shut. Before she went to fetch their order, she whispered to Emma, "Remember, I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

"I know." Emma said gratefully, replying with a smile.

Returning home, Emma huffed as she carried Henry's unconscious body up the stairs to his room. She removed his shoes and covered him with his quilt, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Love you, kid," she whispered.

Feeling herself being called to rest as well, she made her way to her own bed. But tired as she was, sleep would not come. Without the distraction of Henry, her thoughts turned back to the uncertain future. Today was great, but in a lot of ways, it made her incredibly sad. She didn't want to give this life up, she didn't want to leave this town and go back to Boston. For better or worse, Storybrooke was their home now, and for the first time, Emma could see a future here. A happy one.

It was a future that also included a very handsome ghost. Yes, she could admit that Killian Jones was probably the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life, but what good was it? With his damn scruff, his chest hair, and his piercing clear blue eyes taunting her mercilously, it just wasn't fair. Not that any of it mattered. Even if she did have feelings for him (and she didn't, she definitely did not have feeling for him), nothing could ever come from it. He was dead. She was not. It was simple.

Besides, it wasn't like he had thought anything of her. How could he? He wasn't even human anymore. He was just a memory, stuck in a loop that he could never break free of. It was a horribly depressing way to spend eternity.

But try as she might, his words haunted her more than ever. Don't give up, Swan. We'll find a way. Did they mean that he wanted her to stay? And why did he say 'we'? It left her more confused than ever. Not that the simple act of just being around Jones at all wasn't confusing. He seemed to have such a forceful presence to him. As if he commanded whatever space he was in. She wondered if all spirits were like that. Did all ghosts leave you feeling breathless and like your heart was out of sync? Or was it unique to him? She suspected it was the latter.

She couldn't help herself from wondering about him, even as she tried hard not to. What was he like when he was alive? She bet that he was lively and charming, charismatic and passionate. At times, she could still see those traits seeping through his cracks and it made her even more curious to discover just who was Killian Jones.

That must be why she couldn't stop thinking about him. He was a puzzle, the greatest puzzle of them all. There was no other reason she was couldn't turn her thoughts away. None at all.

Huffing, she rolled out of bed. Who needs nap time, anyway. She should be using this time to look over the papers Mary Margaret had given her, but just the very thought of them sitting in the drawer made her want to punch a wall hard enough to see her own blood on her knuckles. Maybe it would ease the pain in her chest. And like that, everything she had been blocking came rushing back.

Fucking Neal. This was all his fucking fault.

As she paced about, trying to burn off some of her rage, her eye caught on her jewelry box on the dresser. She knew what was in there without having to look. There wasn't much, but almost all of it was from Neal. He had liked to buy her things, spend money on her, even when they couldn't afford it. She told him over and over again that she didn't need jewels and expensive trinkets, she got along well enough without them most of her life anyway. But he never listened to her.

Just like the damn watch he gave her on their fourth anniversary. The one right before he died. He had told her it had cost him only a hundred dollars. But Emma knew better, and she had her suspicions about how he managed to get a hold of a two thousand dollar watch.

…..

She had carefully cased the place for a week before deciding it was time. The security system was lousy and easily disarmed, and she was pretty sure the elderly owner had a limp so it was unlikely he'd be chasing after her. At 19, Emma Swan was a pretty decent thief. She had to be. After she was unceremoniously kicked out of the foster system at age 18, she wasn't left with much choice.

She had already jimmied the lock on the second jewelry case, when she heard the voice behind her. "I think the maximum gold chains a person is allowed to wear is, like, ten. And I think you've got way more than that in your bag."

She spun so hard, her ponytail whipped around, hitting her in the face. "I—" she stammered. Her brain was already occupied on trying to find the quickest exit past the shadowy figure leaning against the door to the back, that her words failed her.

He stepped forward, just enough for her to make out his face in the neon glow of the "Gold's Pawn Shop" sign. "Neal Cassidy," he supplied. His voice was more amused than angry and she hoped that meant he hadn't called the police on her yet.

"Didn't ask," she replied. Her eyes darted out the front window, checking to make sure the street was still vacant, before coming back to rest on him.

He chuckled warmly, and for the first time, she noticed that he had kind brown eyes and was really only a few years older than her. She pushed her glasses up, and said, "Why are you here?" Her stomach was churning with nerves and embarrassment as he studied her.

"You know, Mr. Gold is far more capable than he looks. If he had been the one to catch you, he probably would have just shot you. I'm pretty sure I might have just saved your life."

"What do you want, a thank-you card?" She said, rolling her eyes.

His laughter grew louder. "I suppose that would be nice. How about this instead: you put back what you stole so I don't have my boss jumping down my throat and let me buy you a drink."

Crossing her arms, she frowned at him. "A drink?"

He shrugged. "Yep, with me. At a bar. Unless you'd rather have drinks at the police station. I hear they have a terrible selection."

She looked around again, still not trusting the quietness of the street and the easy escape in front of her. "Why?" She asked suddenly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow with him looking at her the way he was and she wondered if maybe she was coming down with a bug. It was strep season, after all, and sleeping in a car could really wear down your immune system.

Shrugging again, he turned to the door, answering her as he walked through, "You're pretty. I'm thirsty. It's fucking late. And you seem like you've got a story or two to tell. Take your pick."

She watched him leave, taking only a moment or two to reach a decision. She dropped the half-full bag of jewelry on the counter and quickly followed after him.

Grabbing an empty packing box from the corner of the room, Emma threw open the drawers to the jewelry case and began throwing the items inside. Tomorrow, she would take these to the nearest pawn shop and see what she could get for them. Hopefully, it would be enough to tide them over until there was a decision made in her case.

Right before she closed up the lid, another piece of jewelry caught her eye. Turning over her left hand, she studied the diamond and gold ring on her finger. Surprisingly, when she removed it, it came right off, as if anticipating this day for quite some time.

Placing her wedding ring with the watch and other jewelry from Neal, she sealed up the box, putting it the corner by the doorway before curling up on her bed. Within seconds, she was asleep.