A/N: Soooo… I did actually have this ending all planned out weeks ago, finally got around to writing it on Christmas Eve, then decided that I hated it and started all over from scratch. And I kinda wrote the last half while on a sugar rush, so I blame that for my sudden foray into mushy fluff.
As soon as Emma's feet felt solid ground, she ripped herself from Graham's grip. Spinning around, she tried to take in her new surroundings, only to realize that the space was completely empty. As in, she might as well have been standing in a void composed of white light. The vast barrenness of the space made her clutch her head in frustration, the blinding sheen of white threatening her with a headache of epic proportions.
Focusing back on Graham, the only blemish on the blankness, Emma asked, "So, where are we now? Some sort of purgatory? Or are you just trying to piss me off even more?"
As always, Graham remained unaffected by her temper. He spread his arms in acknowledgment of the emptiness and smiled. "What, this? This is all your doing. Since you can't decide what you want, and you really don't want to fight for a love interest, you created a void. A void that only you can fill by creating your future."
"Do you think that you could, I don't know, maybe cut the cryptic crap? My life is confusing enough as it is without you going around and giving me riddles!" Emma crossed her arms and glared at him with all her worth. She briefly wondered it Regina could teach her how to glare properly, seeing as her own glares never seemed to have the same effect.
Sensing how thin Emma's patience really was, Graham wisely decided that he had better start explaining clearly or else risk Emma finding a way to re-kill him. "Alright, fine. Be boring. This place is entirely inside your head; it's not real. You can make it into anything you wish. Essentially, you will be creating your own future. Right now, it's blank because you yourself have no plan for your future.
"However, if you choose not to design your own fate, you can leave, and fate will choose you. You can't stop your life from moving forward, Emma, no matter how much you wish you could."
Emma nodded along to his surprisingly sincere words, debating her options. "So I can just walk out of here? How do I do that? There isn't even a door."
Rolling his eyes, Graham tutted. "Emma, were you even listening? I just said that this is place is all in your mind. Imagine a door and walk through it."
Sending yet another withering glare in Graham's direction, Emma concentrated on creating a door. She tried going for something classy – maybe those sweet doors from the end of Titanic with the footmen and everything – but all she got was a set of saloon doors. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Eh, beggars can't be choosers. Walking out confidently, she was startled to see that she was standing in a graveyard. And because that just was not spooky enough, it was still the dead of night with the full moon casting eerie shadows. A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the nearby trees, and somewhere in the distance she heard a wolf howling.
Come on, Swan. Keep it together. This isn't creepy at all, and that was probably just Ruby. Steeling herself, Emma set off to find the entrance to the graveyard. After ten minutes of wandering, however, the feeling that the place was, well, haunted, began to rise up. The headstones gleamed ominously in the moon's glow. When a bat screeched and flew right by her head, Emma officially freaked out. A bit panicky, she called out, "Graham? This isn't funny, Graham! Get me out of here!"
Shivering violently, Emma rubbed her arms and sat on the nearest gravestone. It probably was not the best thing to do in a scary graveyard, but she was too drained to care if she pissed off any ghosts tonight (well, besides Graham; she would very much like to have her revenge on him).
A twig snapped behind her. "Graham?" she called out hesitantly, not seeing anyone nearby.
"No, it's Neal. Who's Graham?" At that, Neal entered her line of sight. When he reached her, he pulled her into a hug.
Slightly baffled at this turn of events, Emma pulled away. "What do you mean, 'Who's Graham?' He's the one making me go on all these dates. He even made you go; you told me he did."
Neal's perpetually blank face actually managed to show emotion for once as confusion spread across his features. "Emma, what are you talking about? There is no one named Graham that I've ever heard of, and I'm only here because you called and said that you needed a ride because your car broke down."
"What!? No, nononono, no! I've been having the craziest night of my life, with ghosts, and magic, and paintball fights, and …" She trailed off when she caught sight of her left hand. Particularly, her ring finger. A solitaire diamond on a gold band rested there. How did I not notice that!? Looking up, she realized that Neal was looking at her with concern (or at least as much as his relaxed features would allow). Unwilling to let the subject drop, Emma pushed on. "But it felt so real. And even if it wasn't, how could you not know about Graham? He was the first man I could trust my heart with after you crushed it. Why don't you even know his name?"
Neal simply shrugged. "I… I don't know. Maybe it's still too painful to talk about?"
At that, Emma came to a very brilliant conclusion (a rare occurrence). "You know what? I think I know what this is. This isn't real; this is what my life will be if I don't make my own future. This is all still in my head. It has to be because there is no way I would ever be engaged to anyone, much less you, if I couldn't even tell the person about Graham. And you know what else, figment-Neal? I've changed a lot since I last knew you; and just because I loved you then does not mean that I have to still be in love with you now."
In her glee, Emma conjured a pond, a very deep, very wide pond (no ducks, though). With a fiendish delight, she pulled off her ring (no way was she a solitaire kind of girl, anyway) and threw it in the water. Now bordering on a twisted mania worthy of Rumplestiltskin himself, she pushed Neal in with a laugh/giggle. It was purely cathartic on her part.
Emma whirled around and, with a satisfied grin, called back up the door to her blank slate of a future. She ran with utter abandon through the swinging doors and laughed in euphoria.
Graham contemplated her with interest. "I take it you figured some things out."
Emma surprised him with a tight hug. "I did. I really did. Thank you for that. I know that I've been wanting to stab you through the eye all night, but now I just want to thank you. I don't know if I ever could have said that to Neal in real life, but now that I have said it, I think I know what and who I want. So wake me up and let me out of here. I have a man to catch!"
Graham smiled sweetly at her, noticing the space around them changing according to her decision. Not wanting her to actually know her future (where would be the fun in that?), he prepared himself to let her go one last time. "Alright, Emma. When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up in your bed. All of this will become hazy and might not seem real, but if you hold on to it, it will stay with you. And remember, if you mess this up, I will hunt you down." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and snapped his fingers, content in knowing that she would finally be fine without him. Most likely. Well, probably not, but oh well. It was done.
Sunlight filtered in through the window, the unrelenting light causing Emma to wake with a groan. She pulled her blanket over her head in her fight to recapture the peace of sleep, but memories from the previous night invaded her mind and forced her awake. Was that actually real? Knowing all of the crazy stuff that typically happened to her these days, it was probably was safe for her to assume that it was. Sitting up, Emma decided to test the fact. She held out her hand and pulled on all of her magic. To her (not quite) surprise, a little ball of flames burst to life in her palm. Now convinced that her nighttime "fun" had been real, she collapsed on her bed for one last moment of peace. Better go and face the music.
An hour later, Emma made herself as prepared as she ever would be and walked through Storybrooke in search of her chosen man. Not shockingly, she found him – in all of his beautiful, black leather glory – aboard the Jolly Roger (which had somehow lost its invisibility during the night), though why he was dipping pancakes in his rum like syrup was beyond her.
Before she could change her mind and back away from this life-altering conversation, Emma walked up the plank to board the ship. She composed herself and was proud of how normal she sounded when she called out, "Good morning, Hook."
Hook turned away from his questionable breakfast and gave her a mocking bow. "Well, hello, Miss Swan. Come for another fencing lesson? Or are you still too weak in the knees from the last one?" He smirked knowingly at her, assuring her that at least he remembered their date last night.
Emma responded with one of her increasingly frequent glares. "Oh, shut up. I whipped you once; I'm sure I could do it again."
"I'm glad to see you like to keep things on the adventurous side. I admire that in a woman."
His salacious eyebrow waggle clued her in on the less appropriate meaning of her words. She sighed in defeat; of course he wouldn't make this easy for her. "Only you, Hook. There is actually something that I wanted to talk to you about."
"Well, by all means, please do. Whatever your problem is, I'm quite sure I could fix it single-handedly." He waved his good hand at her with an amused grin. Her stomach fluttered in response. Why did he have to look so perfect, with that gorgeous smile and perfectly tousled hair?
"Thanks, but it's less of a problem and more of a question." Emma twisted her hands together in an uncharacteristically girlish fashion, trying to work up the nerve to come clean about her feelings for the pirate. Wimping out, she instead blurted, "Do you want to build a snowman?" She mentally slapped herself for sounding like a complete idiot. What had ever possessed her to make her act like such a fool? Stupid Graham and his meddling!
Hook somehow managed to take the random question in stride. "I would love to go out and play with you, Swan, but in case you haven't noticed, there isn't any snow." He gestured to their bare surroundings to emphasize his point (after all, she could be a little – or a lot – dense at times).
Emma recovered from her stupid moment and smiled smugly back at him. "You may think you're so impressive, Hook, but I am so much better." Feeling the magic rise easily this time, she snapped her fingers, and fluffy snowflakes immediately began falling around the entire town. So much for the lovely weather they had been having. She savored the impressed shock on Hook's so-handsome-it-should-be-illegal face before it was replaced by an equally enjoyable, devilishly charming grin.
"Not to rain – or snow, as it were – on your parade, but I don't think that the rest of the town will be as appreciative of your little display as I am."
"I have a feeling that I'm going to spend the rest of my life saying this, but shut up, Hook." With that, Emma pulled him to her by the collar of his coat and mashed her lips to his. He responded instantly, wrapping his hook around her waist and cupping the back of her head with his hand. Emma's only thought as she moved her arms to wrap around his neck was that he tasted like rum (duh), and nothing in the world could have been better than this moment, this decision for her future.
When they finally broke away for air, Hook whispered huskily, "A man could get used to that. Though, I don't suppose you still have that marvelous red dress, do you? I really did grow quite attached to that."
Emma smiled coyly up at him, her arms still wrapped around his neck. "Sorry, but I don't think it was your color. But if you're really lucky – and I mean really, really lucky – maybe someday I'll conjure up a new one." Bored with talking now, she pulled Hook close and started kissing him again with no intention of ever stopping. Not that he minded, of course.
A/N: I may have used this as an excuse to rewatch Hook's 'when I win your heart' speech a couple times or so… I'm not ashamed! I just completely melt at that part.
And sorry for being mean to pseudo-Neal (actually, that's a lie. I rather enjoyed it). I came up with a brilliant analogy for him: Neal is to OUaT as Laurel is to Arrow. If you get that, I award you cosmic brownie points!