Chapter 10

Emma had been Sheriff for a couple of weeks and she had grown used to the fact that the Sheriff Station was a pretty boring place until the evening, when Keith and Leroy would make their way to the Rabbit Hole and start making trouble.

So a call from Mr Clark telling her to hurry to the Dark Star Pharmacy was rather unusual, but Emma was rather excited to have something to do other than digitizing files.

The pharmacy wasn't too far away, only a few minutes in the car, and when she arrived, she realised that the small shop was rather busy. The few times she'd visited, there had only been one other person in the shop, so the five customers made the place feel rather crowded.

Lacey was there, but the way she was standing - back against the wall and basket clutched to her chest - made Emma certain that it wasn't her who had been causing trouble. In fact, she looked as though she was wishing she wasn't in the shop at all.

Emma nodded at her in greeting and received an uncharacteristically shy nod in return. Clearly, Lacey didn't want to get drawn into the commotion, which Emma was happy to comply with. Instead, she turned her attention to the others, seeing Henry held tightly to Regina's side, two other children standing near him, their heads bowed and arms folded.

"What happened?" Emma asked, directing the question to her son, who was smiling at her.

Henry didn't answer, but looked up at Mr Clark. Before the pharmacist could say anything, however, Regina stepped forward, blocking Emma's view of Henry and fixing her with a derisive stare. "Now, Miss Swan, please remember that just because you had a… dubious past, it doesn't mean that Henry's a criminal." Emma just gaped at her, because the only reason for Regina to say anything like that was just to get in an insult before Emma started doing her job.

And, of course, she said it in front of Henry.

Not that he didn't know, because Regina's article had made sure of that, but Emma didn't understand Regina's apparent need to belittle her in front of Henry. People just didn't do that.

"What are you doing here" Regina asked, and Emma just raised an eyebrow. "Everything's taken care of."

"I'm the Sheriff." Emma stated dryly, and Regina scoffed, although she did step aside. "Being here is my job."

"Then do it." Regina snapped, her hand closing around Henry's upper arm as she tugged him towards the door. "Don't just stand there."

"Bye, Emma." Henry called back, even as he was pulled after his mother and out the door. Emma didn't have time to reply, so she just took a deep breath and turned back to face the pharmacist and the two children, who had guilt written clearly across their faces.

"Did you call their parents?" Emma asked, because not only was it clear that it was stealing she'd been called to deal with, but she knew the script, had been on the other side of it more than once.

Mr Clark sighed, irritation rife in his tone as he shook his head and replied. "The number they gave me was disconnected."

Another familiar line. Emma turned to look more closely at the children, noticing their red-rimmed eyes and their pale skin and messy hair and she already knew that they had no parents to call. "Did you guys give Mr Clark a fake number?" she asked. They nodded together, as Emma expected, and the sheriff just sighed. "Then why's it disconnected?"

"Because our parents couldn't pay the bill." The young girl said quickly, not meeting Emma's eyes. Emma already knew she was lying.

"And you guys are just trying to help out?"

"Please. Please don't arrest us." pleaded the girl, her brother clinging to her arm and staring up at Emma with a wide-eyed, desperate look that Emma found uncomfortably familiar. She was certain she'd worn that exact expression more than once. "It will just make things worse for our parents."

Emma gave them a tight smile and then turned to the pharmacist. "I'll take care of it this time, but I can't find you doing this again." she stated, still talking to the children even as she rummaged through her pockets for enough money to buy the variety of objects. "One more time, and I have to bring your parents into this."

That alone should be enough to dissuade them for a while, although Emma understood that without anyone looking after them, desperation would soon drive them back to stealing.

With the objects in a paper bag, she led the two children to the side, bending down so she was at the same level as them. "Is everything alright? You can tell me." Neither of them said anything. "Well, can you tell me your names?"

"I'm Ava Zimmer." The girl stated, mumbling a thank you when Emma handed her the shopping. "This is my brother Nicolas."

"Nice to meet you." Emma told them both. "Do you know who I am?"

"The Sheriff." Ava grumbled.

"You can call me Emma." She told them calmly. "Now let's get you guys home, alright?"

They both nodded, and she stood back to let them pass in front of her on the way out of the shop, pausing when she heard Mr Clark speak again.

"It was only a matter of time." The pharmacist had mumbled, and Emma turned to see Lacey at the counter, looking furious and embarrassed by the man's comment. Emma followed Lacey's gaze to see that Mr Clark was bagging what looked like pregnancy tests.

Lacey looked up at Emma and just shook her head pleadingly, and Emma led the children out of the shop.

As Emma had expected, she'd let the children leave the Sheriff's car and followed them to an empty home. It had been easy to expect such actions when she'd done the same thing in the past, had used the exact same lies, and she had always wished someone was there to help her. Although, she knew that realistically, help would only be a return to social services.

She wanted it to be different for them.

However, now that she had the two children sat in her loft eating Mary-Margaret's cookies, Emma was at a loss about what to do.

"Do you know them?" Emma asked the teacher, flipping through the file she had picked up from the town hall on her way back to the loft. "Do they go to your school?"

Mary-Margaret sighed, looking over at the two children sat at their dining table. "I've seen them," the teacher admitted sadly, an unsurprising answer given that they were both wearing the elementary school uniform. "But I had no idea. I don't think anyone did."

Emma had expected that, but she didn't say anything, not when Mary-Margaret's disappointment in herself was clearly written across her face. "Ava and Nicolas Zimmer." Emma read aloud from the file, watching the siblings eating the food and murmuring to one another. "They told me that their mother was called Dory Zimmer, but she died a few years ago. No one remembers her, which is… rather unhelpful."

Mary-Margaret nodded in agreement. "And the father?"

"There isn't one." Emma said quietly. "Not one that they know. And because no one even remembers the mother, I don't know who to talk to."

"Well, what does social services say?" Emma clenched her jaw and looked away, because despite it being her job, she hadn't even attempted to make contact with them. "You didn't report them."

Emma exhaled angrily at Mary-Margaret's disapproval. "If I report them, I can't help them. They go into the system."

"The system that's there to help them." Mary-Margaret pointed out, but Emma simply rolled her eyes. The system hadn't helped her one bit.

"I know the system, Mary-Margaret. I was in it for sixteen years." Emma bit out, keeping her voice quiet enough so that the brother and sister wouldn't hear her. "Do you know what happens? Because I do. You get thrown into a home where you're nothing more than a meal ticket. Families get paid for the kids but the minute they're too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again."

"But they're not all like that."

"All the ones I was in were. And I was in a lot." Emma admitted bitterly, Mary-Margaret's expression softening when she looked at the Sheriff. "Look, I know that we can't exactly look after them ourselves. I want to look for their father. If they don't know him, then maybe he doesn't know they exist."

"And you think that if he knows, he'll want them?" Mary-Margaret questioned, clearly doubtful.

Emma swallowed and looked away. She didn't know that. She couldn't. But she knew that part of her was hoping that she'd find their father and he'd want them. And then a more selfish part of her wasn't sure what she'd do if that happened, because if they could find their father and have him want them, then why couldn't that have ever happened to her? "I don't know." Emma replied simply, still refusing to look at Mary-Margaret just in case she knew. "But I do know that it's hard enough to find foster families to take one kid that isn't theirs, let alone two. It's their best shot, or-"

A sob interrupted Emma before she could finish, and she spun round to see Ava standing nearby, her eyes red with tears. "We're going to be separated?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse.

"No." Emma promised firmly, ignoring Mary-Margaret's raised eyebrow. "That's not going to happen."

"Please don't let it." Ava mumbled, walking away before Emma could say anything else. She sat at her brother's side and began to eat another cookie. Emma stared at the two of them, her throat tight when she thought of what would happen if she couldn't keep her promise.

Even if she couldn't find their father, Emma was going to ensure that nothing would part them.

"How are you going to manage that?" Mary-Margaret whispered and Emma shrugged. "You know you shouldn't have promised that, don't you?"

"I promised that because I am going to keep them together." Emma insisted, although she currently had no idea how she would manage such a promise. "I don't do false hope, Mary-Margaret. If I didn't think I could do it, I wouldn't have ever said otherwise."

Regina's deadline had forced Emma to work harder than she had in months. As certain as Emma had been that she would keep the brother and sister together, she hadn't counted on Regina contacting social services, and she definitely hadn't imagined she'd have to find their father within the day or else she'd be driving them to Boston.

Where they'd be split up.

If she didn't find anything in the mounds of files and papers she'd dug up, a pile of sheets with vague references to the Zimmer family, then her promise would be worthless and empty and she'd be doing what she hated most. Giving someone hope only to snatch it away.

Finding nothing, she dropped her head into her hands and took a few deep breaths. The case was too much, meant too much, and if she failed, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

"Any luck?" At the sound of Henry's voice, she raised her head up and tried to hide the fact that she'd felt so useless only minutes earlier.

"No." she mumbled, plastering on a fake hopeful expression before she turned to look at her son.

"I know who they are." Henry exclaimed, hurrying over and dropping his book on top of all the paperwork. Emma slid away from the table slightly, making space for Henry beside her so he could point at whatever he thought he'd found in the book. "They're brother and sister, lost, no parents…" He trailed off and gave her an expectant look, but Emma had no idea what he was implying. "Hansel and Gretel."

"Anything in there about the dad?" Emma asked. God, if she was asking Henry for answers from his book, she really did have nothing.

"Just that he abandoned them."

Emma exhaled loudly, following Henry's finger to look at the image of the family. "Great." she complained. "That sounds familiar. You do realise that whoever this guy is, he could be anywhere by now?"

"No, he's here." Henry stated, fixing Emma with a look of such certainty that she couldn't bring herself to do anything except ask him how he knew for sure. "Because no one leaves Storybrooke. No one comes here and no one goes. That's just the way it is."

She'd heard that theory before, more than once, and it still sounded completely ridiculous. However, she couldn't deny that the few times she had tried to leave town, it hadn't gone very well. It wasn't proof, but she couldn't discount Henry's words either.

"I suppose." Emma agreed cautiously, smiling when her son beamed up at her. "If he is here though, I'm going to find him."

Henry's words cheered her up, and after she handed him back the storybook, she returned to reading the papers with a renewed fervor. Henry took a few of the files too, clearly eager to lend a hand.

"Emma?" Henry asked suddenly, abandoning research and fixing Emma with a curious gaze. "What was he like?"

"I haven't found anything yet." Emma muttered, another file joining the pile of useless ones. She might have spent her life finding people, but she normally had more information than this. This man, well, she had no clues to start trying to hunt him down.

"Not their father." Henry said, taking a seat on the desk so he could look at Emma. "Mine."

Emma faltered, her hand hovering over the next file. She should have expected such a question, should have realised that this case would mean a lot to Henry as well as her, but she hadn't.

And now he wanted to know about his father, about Neal, and Emma had no idea what to do. She'd never even spoken Neal's name out loud since he abandoned her. She'd waited for two years in Tallahassee until she accepted he wasn't coming and then she'd locked away all the memories and lived with the lessons his desertion had taught her.

She didn't want to speak of him, and she definitely didn't want Henry to know what sort of man his father was.

It was Henry she was thinking of. Only Henry.

"I don't know…" Emma muttered, hoping her hesitance would be enough to stop the questions.

"Please?" She should have known that Henry would be persistent when it came to a topic that was important to him.

She just couldn't tell him about Neal, not when Henry believed so strongly in his stories of true love and fairy tales and happily ever after. He didn't need to know that his father had finally confirmed for her that those stories belonged in books and had no place in the real world.

But he looked so eager to hear about his father that Emma couldn't find it in herself to refuse. Besides, Henry was never going to meet Neal, so Emma doubted it would matter if she let him believe in a story far better than what had truly happened. "I was pretty young. I'd just gotten out of the foster system." She began, and at least that part wasn't a lie. "I got this job at a diner and, well, your dad was training to be a fireman. He'd come in every night and order coffee and pie and then complain that we weren't selling his favourite type of pie, but he always came back anyway."

It wasn't much of a story, more like a fantasy she had had when she was younger, of having someone who always came back for her, but it definitely sounded better than telling him that his father never came back at all.

"Did you get married?" Henry asked, but he seemed slightly preoccupied by his storybook, which was now open to the page of Princess Leia and Charles dancing. "Did you love him?"

"Of course I loved him." Emma stammered, because no matter what she felt towards Neal now, she wasn't about to tell Henry otherwise. "But we never married. We just… hung out a few times after work and then, life happened. I got into some trouble and-"

"You mean jail?"

"Yeah."

Henry sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't really remember. I thought that maybe, because you're Princess Leia and you have a prince who loves you, that maybe he was my dad."

Emma had no idea how to respond. She was still certain that, even if the curse was real (which it wasn't), it made no sense for her to be Leia. It didn't fit with the rest of Henry's stories at all, and now this made even less sense.

She remembered exactly who Henry's father was, and he was definitely not a prince. And honestly, she had to admit she'd rather have her memories of him instead of no memory at all..

"I'm not… Jones isn't… Never mind." She spluttered, because now she had thought his sentence through, did Henry think Jones was his dad? Emma had to make certain that idea went away. "Look, Henry. Your dad wasn't a prince, but…" Emma took in a deep breath, because her story before may have been false, but what she was about to say felt so much more dishonest. "Before I went to jail, I found out I was pregnant with you. I tried to tell your dad but I found out that he had died. Saving a family from a burning building. So yeah, your dad wasn't a prince but he was a hero."

Henry smiled and closed the book. Emma hoped that her lies had at least managed to dissuade him from the insane idea that his father was Prince Charles and answered enough of his questions so that he wouldn't bring the topic up again.

"Do you have anything of his?" He asked suddenly. "Something you can remember him by. Something I could see?"

For a second Emma wished she did have something from the made-up fireman, something she could give Henry as proof that his father really was a hero. But all she had was a keychain necklace, and she didn't want Henry to know that all she had kept from her time with his father was a reminder not to trust anyone.

So she lied again, and told Henry she had nothing.

And then, she had an idea. If she had held onto something from Neal, despite everything, perhaps Ava and Nicolas' mother had done something similar. And if she had, then maybe Ava and Nicolas had it in their possession.

If they did, then maybe, just maybe, she could find their father.

"So I figured that you might be able to help me." Emma said, even before she was fully though the entrance of the pawn shop, and when Jones looked up from whatever it was he was doing and grinned at her, Emma felt that maybe she would be able to find Ava and Nicolas' father.

"I'd like to, love, but I'd need more of an idea of how I can be of assistance." Jones said, patting the counter in invitation. The fact that he agreed to help, no questions asked, put a smile on Emma's face, the first one since she'd met Ava and Nicolas, and she hurried over to him and perched on the counter.

The moment she was beside him, he turned his entire attention to her, his gaze intense and warm, and when he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face, Emma couldn't do anything but stare at him, her breath coming just a bit faster than usual.

"It's been a few days since your last visit." He said quietly, pulling his hand back the instant her hair was back in place. "It's wonderful to know you haven't forgotten about me, even if you're only visiting for work."

"It's not as if you've come to see me at the station." Emma pointed out before realising that this was the last conversation she wanted to have. Before he could reply, and he was going to, she dug the children's compass, the only object they had that had once belonged to their father, from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. "But that's not why I'm here. I thought you might be able to tell me if anyone bought this from here. I know you sell this sort of thing."

"Things?" Jones said, his fingers curling around the object and brushing against hers. "It's called a compass, Swan. And now that I know I'm welcome to surprise you at the station, I can guarantee you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

"Damnit. I knew I shouldn't have said that." Emma said teasingly, although the grin on her face quickly faded into a solemn line.. "Look, Jones, this has to be done fast. Do you know or not?"

"Unfortunately, I can't look at an object and tell you who it once belonged to." Jones told her, but he was already lifting a huge book onto the counter and opening it to the first page. "Why so urgent?"

For what felt like a very long time, Emma didn't answer and simply watched him run his finger along inked names of customers and objects.

But when he didn't ask again, she decided to tell him. "There are two children," she began and he raised his head to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "If I don't find their father before the end of today, I have to take them to Boston. I don't want to send them to the foster system, but more than that, I don't want to split them up."

"Of course not." Jones agreed, appearing more intent on reading through the sales record.

"I mean, they have one another, which is more than most orphans." She continued, slumping slightly as all her determination over how she couldn't let them be separated returned to her. "I can't let them lose that."

Jones took in a deep breath and then shook his head and Emma steeled herself to hear something else along the lines of 'bringing them to social services is best for them', remembering Mary-Margaret's response.

"I understand." Jones murmured quietly, an air of uneasiness suddenly surrounding him. "Being separated from a sibling is hard."

Emma frowned, and he looked so miserable and uncertain that she was reaching out to rest her hand on his shoulder before she even realised what she was doing. "You have a brother? A sister?"

"I did once." He said after another lengthy silence. "Liam."

He returned to the book again, and Emma watched him, her thumb occasionally brushing lightly against his bicep. She was reluctant to remove her hand when he still looked so downcast, so she just didn't.

"It will be harder for them if they're split up." he said eventually, having read through a few more pages without comment.

"Do you…" Emma began, halting when Jones slammed the book closed and huffed angrily. "You understand, don't you? You've been there?"

Pushing the book aside, he reached up to take her hand in his and lift it away from his arm and she let it drop to her side once he released it. "Aye." he said succinctly, turning away and taking a suspiciously long time to find more records. Not that Emma didn't understand why - she did - and he was already answering more questions than Emma would ever be willing to. "I'm a Lost One, much like you."

"Like me?" Emma repeated in surprise.

"An orphan." he clarified, and this time he wasn't even attempting to pretend that he was doing something else. He simply refused to look at her. "I know what it's like to know there's someone out there who can help you. The hope that comes with that knowledge, well, it makes everything worse when they don't come. It doesn't matter whether or not it's their choice, or if they simply can't reach you. It eats away at you until you have no hope for anything."

"False hope is worse than no hope at all." Emma muttered, and she'd thought of her own motto more in the past two days than she had since arriving in Storybrooke.

The phrase was apparently enough to make him look at her again and step closer. "Exactly." he agreed, and she still hadn't figured out how he knew she was an orphan too, but she didn't care when he seemed to read her so easily and yet didn't seem to judge her at all. "Emma, I know what it's like to lose a brother. I lost Liam more than once. I've had him… taken from me. If I can help prevent another child from experiencing the same, I will do anything to aid you."

"If we find the father, then hopefully that won't happen." Emma said firmly, and this time, it was the same sad, perceptive look that Mary-Margaret had given her that was gracing his face.

"Look, love, I can see what you want to happen. A heart-warming family reunion would indeed be touching." he warned her carefully, as though he was expecting her to deny his words. "I understand why you want it. I truly do. However, my father chose to leave me and the same could happen for these children."

"I know." Emma snapped, because she had coped with the understanding from before, but she didn't need any words of caution. "I am well aware that not every family works out. But you don't know anything about their father. I mean, what if he doesn't even know about them? What if, given the choice, he would chose them?"

Jones said nothing more.

They worked together in the quiet for almost an hour, reading unfamiliar names written next to strange-sounding objects. Unfortunately, they found nothing. People had bought so many strange things, but not one compass appeared to have been sold.

"Perhaps one of the customers who bought one of my maps?" Jones suggested after Emma grew particularly irritated and let out a frustrated groan. "I doubt we'll find a record of the owner in any of these books, but such a fine compass may have belonged to a man interested in navigation?"

"I think that we're getting desperate." Emma said, because hoping that Ava and Nicolas' father had bought a map from Jones once was surely grasping at straws. "Then again, it's the best idea we've got."

"He doesn't want the kids."

Emma had spent hours questioning every man who had ever bought one of Jones' maps, and it was only when she finally felt like there was no chance of success that she arrived at the garage of Michael Tillman. He had been the only man to recognise Dory Zimmer's name, and when she'd held the compass out, he'd taken it in his hands and confirmed it had once been his.

And then he'd looked at a picture of the twins, insisted they couldn't be his until Emma had pushed him into believing it, and then he'd looked her in the eye and said no.

Emma had officially run out of time and she didn't know how to tell the siblings that she'd failed.

"And you don't want to tell them." Mary-Margaret stated, the teacher having joined her on the street when Emma called and begged for her help.

"I can't." Emma admitted, running her finger across the metal of her Sheriff's badge and wishing, not for the first time that day, that she hadn't taken the job. "All I'll be telling them is that the false hope I gave them is exactly that."

Mary-Margaret sighed, looking up at one of the windows of the loft and waving up at the children. "The truth can be painful, Emma, but it can also be cathartic."

"I agree with the painful part." Emma said bitterly, and unlike Mary-Margaret, she couldn't look up at the children and smile and wave like everything was okay. "But I was hoping that they wouldn't have to realise that yet."

"Well, look, you told Henry the truth that his father's dead." Mary-Margaret said, as if trying to comfort her, but Emma could only laugh at the irony of the example the teacher had chosen . "He's handling it great."

"What he's handling is a story about some made up guy who saved a few lives." Emma told the teacher, running her hand across her face and sighing in exhaustion. "I don't think great would be right word if I told him just what sort of person his father really was."

"Emma." Mary-Margaret reprimanded, but Emma simply shrugged the comment aside.

"How about we hide them?" She suggested, and Mary-Margaret gaped at her in response. "Just until we can find a family for them. Someone to take care of them."

"Yes, Emma, hiding the twelve year olds is a good plan." Mary-Margaret said disbelievingly. "We'll just stick them in your room while David and I have the romantic candle-lit dinner that I've planned for this evening, and I'll pretend that nothing insane is going on."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Emma," The teacher sounded resigned, and Emma couldn't bear the pitying look clear in the teacher's eyes. "Maybe there isn't an idea. Maybe you just have to-"

Mary-Margaret's voice trailed off, her stare locked on someone behind Emma. Emma already knew who it was, and what it meant.

Time had finally run out.

It had been Jones' words on her mind when Emma began to drive the twins out of town. She'd thought of how sincere he had been when he spoke of losing hope, how he had promised to do anything to help her and the children,

And it had been those words that reminded her that she hadn't tried everything.

So what if she played dirty? It had been far too important to her, to everyone, for her to play safe and fail.

Except it had hurt so much when her last-ditch plan at the town line worked. She had wanted to be happy, had managed a smile, but seeing a father take one look at his children and decide they could be a family only made her wonder why her own parents had decided otherwise.

Why so many people had decided otherwise.

And after Michael Tillman had taken his children home, Emma had gotten in her car and just sat there.

Eventually, when she no longer felt totally broken and unwanted, she drove home.

It was dark when she walked inside, the only light being the soft orange glow of candlelight, and for a second Emma simply stood in the doorway and wondered what was going on. Then she realised that Mary-Margaret's comment about having David over hadn't been hypothetical.

Then again, Emma had heard Mary-Margaret mention that David had had more than one meeting with Kathryn over the past couple of weeks, so she was hardly surprised that Mary-Margaret had planned a romantic evening just for the two of them.

The couple were sat at one end of the dining table, chairs pushed close together and Mary-Margaret's foot trailing soft patterns on David's thigh. They were holding hands, David eating his meal clumsily due to the fact his fork was in the wrong hand, and murmuring to each other in soft, warm voices.

God, if Emma had known, she wouldn't have come back yet.

But Mary-Margaret didn't seem phased by Emma's sudden appearance, or the fact that she was hovering awkwardly by the door. "Emma!" she said cheerily, releasing David's hand and hurrying over to her. David joined them, his arm around Mary-Margaret's shoulder and grinning at Emma. "We weren't expect you back from Boston so soon. What happened?"

"Their dad." Emma stated, guessing from David's encouraging nod that he'd already been filled in on the day's events. "He showed up. Changed his mind."

"Changed his mind?" Mary-Margaret asked with a knowing smile. "Just like that?"

"He might have had a little nudge." Emma explained, letting Mary-Margaret hustle her over to the dining table and watching, vaguely amused, as David fetched her a plate and some cutlery, despite her protestations that she really didn't want to interrupt their date.

"They found their father." Mary-Margaret breathed, and it felt strange to have David and Mary-Margaret fussing over her and caring about what she had to say, but it wasn't unwelcome. "That's great."

"It really is." David said, pressing a kiss to Mary-Margaret's cheek as he walked past her, returning to Emma with a glass of wine and a smile. "I definitely voted for the right Sheriff."

"Were you not sure?" Mary-Margaret asked, laughing at the cheeky, boyish grin that graced her boyfriend's face as he shook his head in response. "Now, Emma, are you alright?"

"Yeah." Emma answered quickly. Maybe if Mary-Margaret was alone, then she'd say more, but she barely knew David. Then David's grin softened, and when he fixed his gaze on Emma, she felt the same comfort she found with Mary-Margaret. "I guess I just wondered what it would be like."

Mary-Margaret smiled sadly. The couple was now sat beside Emma, Mary-Margaret's head on David's shoulder, and when David reached out to pat her shoulder, Emma felt strangely at ease. "Maybe you'll find out. You can't give up."

"I don't know." Emma said, taking a long sip of wine. "I kind of think giving up might be the best plan. It's been long enough. I think I need to let it go."

"No, you don't."

"I do. If they wanted to know me, they wouldn't be so hard to find." Emma admitted, no longer hungry. "Look, if there's an explanation for why they abandoned me, one that I can understand, then it's got to be something crazy. Even crazier than Henry's theory."

"Henry's theory?" David asked, turning a confused look to Mary-Margaret. "What's this?"

"You know, that you're my Prince Charming." Mary-Margaret explained in a loud whisper, and Emma exhaled loudly when her answer led to the couple sharing a kiss.

They didn't need an explanation. Emma doubted date night would be improved by the revelation that Henry believed the couple to be her parents, and it was that reason that made her down the rest of her wine and then stand from the table, the other two still thoroughly wrapped up in one another.

"I'm going to go." she said, the announcement enough to make Mary-Margaret break the kiss. "I figure you two might enjoy some time alone. Besides, I need some air."

"Oh, Emma, you really don't have to leave." Mary-Margaret insisted apologetically, reaching out towards Emma. "Really."

"I know I don't have to." Emma told her, because she did feel surprisingly welcome. "But I think I need a slightly stronger drink. And after being left babysitting those two kids all day, Mary-Margaret, you deserve some adult time."

"Emma!" Mary-Margaret said, blushing. "It's just a dinner."

"Sure." Emma laughed, checking that she had her keys in her pocket before heading for the door. "That's what I meant. See you later, David. And Mary-Margaret, don't wait up."

She shut the door before they could comment further, deciding that she would definitely wait a couple of hours before returning home.

After another talk with Henry about his made-up father and an interesting encounter with a new visitor to Storybrooke, Emma was more than ready for the day to end. However, she felt she owed David and Mary-Margaret more time alone after the hell that the day had been, so instead of returning to the loft, she was simply wandering through the streets.

The Rabbit Hole had seemed tempting at first, but when she wandered in and saw no one she was willing to spend the time with, she'd decided against a trip there.

It was only when she noticed the looming black silhouette of Jones' ship at the docks that she figured he should know the fate of the twins as well, and it was for no other reason that she made her way towards the vessel.

Emma crossed the deck carefully, making sure not trip on any of the wires that were strewn across the wooden floor, and then she rapped on the cabin door. She could hear movement inside, but it took him a while to answer, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she waited.

Her jaw dropped slightly when he finally opened the door, because his hair was mussed, his eyeliner smudged, and he was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and black flannel trousers with anchors printed on them, and he looked so much softer than usual.

"I didn't realise you might be sleeping." Emma stammered, but Jones simply smiled sleepily at her. "I wouldn't have knocked."

"It's no trouble, Swan." He answered with a shrug. "I had hoped to have an early night after a long afternoon at the hospital, but being with you is preferable to that."

"Oh, right," Emma muttered, because she had nothing else to say to that. "I just wanted you to know that it all worked out. I found their father and they're with him now."

"That's wonderful." Jones said, his smile widening. "I'm glad."

"Yeah," Emma nodded at him, a small smile dancing on her lips when she realized how much lighter he looked. "I just thought that, after everything you said, you'd want to know how it went."

"How considerate of you, Swan." He stepped through the door, moving closer to her, and Emma took in a shaky breath when he angled his hips towards her and levelled her with a grin that was just indecent. "It's nice to know I'm… on your mind."

"Don't." Emma ordered, although she doubted she sounded at all commanding. "I'm not in the mood."

Jones' grin faded completely, his hand rising to scratch behind his ear as he swallowed and looked down at the floor. Then he nodded and made to close the door, but before he could, Emma thrust her hand out to hold it open.

"Wait." she whispered, refusing to meet his gaze even when she felt his eyes on her. "I can't go home yet. David and Mary-Margaret are there and I don't want to-"

"Interrupt anything?" he interjected with a short chuckle.

"Yeah." she confirmed with a breathless laugh of her own, fidgeting awkwardly when he fixed her with an expectant look. "I guess I'm wondering if Superman 2 is still a possibility."

"No," he answered, confusing her by stepping aside to allow her into the cabin. "I returned it to the library a few days ago. I have some other films that I picked up lately though, if you're open to other suggestions."

"I think that could work." she told him, walking past him and through another couple of doors until she was in his room. The space was candlelit, just as the loft had been, but when she looked around for a light switch, it didn't appear that there was any electric lighting available in the room.

On the desk, just next to the small television, was a pile of video tapes and books. Emma recognised the titles of a few of the novels - Slaughterhouse-5, Thief of Time - but the only one she'd read was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. She told him as much, as she examined the films he had.

"I suppose I might read that one first then." he replied, taking the book from the desk to read the blurb. "What do you want to watch, love?"

"Time Bandits looks... interesting." She decided, handing the tape to him and then settling herself on the bed. He took a while to set everything up, and Emma was barely thinking when she asked why he wasn't wearing his prosthetic, although the leather brace was still on underneath his sleeve.

He paused, and Emma grimaced apologetically. "I prefer not to wear it when I'm alone. That hand is just a useless ornament." he explained briefly, tersely. "I'd rather something more useful."

"Like what?" she asked, her eyes on him as he sat beside her on the bed, the television remote in his hand.

"A hook, perhaps?" he suggested, and Emma laughed, leaning into him to nudge his shoulder with her own.

"Read Peter Pan recently?" she teased, but Jones didn't reply, he just stared at her for a few minutes, and then the familiar warmth returned to his gaze, concern evident in his expression.

"Swan, are you alright?"

She swallowed, because she'd already been asked that question that day, and she wasn't particularly fond of talking about her feelings. "Could be better." she answered truthfully, finding it unusually easy to admit that to him. "I think it all just cut a bit too close to the bone today."

"I can imagine." Jones murmured, as he started the film. Then, the same way he had weeks before, after Graham's death, he cupped the side of her head and pulled her into his side, tucking her head just under his chin.

This time though, instead of letting her go, he just moved his hand so his arm was slung across her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

It wasn't really her sort of film, although Jones seemed to be watching rather intently, and despite her wish that she'd be distracted from everything she'd been forced to think about during the day, all she could think of was that she'd lied to Henry, and she'd done it with barely any second thoughts.

Emma didn't know if she'd done the right thing.

So she tried not to think about it, tried to pretend that she knew what was going on in the movie, but after an hour of failing, she couldn't even stay quiet anymore. She wanted to know what Jones thought, even if the truth hurt.

"Henry asked about his dad today." she began quietly, and as soon as she spoke, Jones paused the video and turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "I told him he was dead. I lied."

The static on screen was irritating, the television emitting a quiet buzzing, but when she had all of Jones' attention on her, she didn't really hear it. "Are you going to tell him otherwise?"

"I don't think I can." Emma mumbled. "I had the chance to tell the truth, when he asked about him again, but I just kept up the lie. It's probably too late now."

Jones bit his lip, his hold on her tightening. "Do you want to tell me why you lied?" he asked, but she could tell he wasn't expecting an answer. And so she said nothing and instead just nuzzled slightly closer to him, her nose brushing his neck. "Too painful?"

Emma nodded. "His name was Neal. Basically, without him, Sidney wouldn't have had anything to write about me."

She said nothing further, but she could feel Jones looking down at her, his entire body tense, and she wondered if he was angry because he had an idea of what Neal might have done, or if he just didn't know what to say. But then she felt him turn his head towards her, felt him press a light kiss to her hair, and she stopped thinking about Neal.

Emma looked up at him through her eyelashes, noticing he was watching the film again, although she hadn't even realised he'd pressed play. Her gaze lingered on his lips and she had to admit that this, even without alcohol, was warm and easy.

And she'd thought it before, but it was only as she raised her hand to grasp at her keychain necklace that she started to understand just how dangerous Jones was to her. But for a moment, before she could quell the thought, she thought that as a bail bondsperson, she was rather fond of dangerous.

It was a silly thought, but at the moment, she didn't care. She just rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing into him when she felt his fingers combing through her hair, the rings occasionally catching her hair and tugging it painfully, but she didn't mind when it reminded her that he was actually there.

After the day she'd had, she needed this and, for once, she wasn't going to let herself try to understand why she needed it with him.

Here you go! I hope you enjoy the chapter. Thank you so much for all the reviews/favourites/alerts! Updates might be a bit more irregular over the following weeks, because of exams, but I will still be updating!

Thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to hear feedback. And thank you to BlackDragon733 for editing this with me.