A/N: Thanks for your patience with this chapter. My son was born early Wednesday morning – Patrick is doing well and a big boy at 8 lbs. 11 oz. – We are back at home and I thought I would go ahead and post the next chapter. I will try my best to be consistent, but not sure how things will play out.

"It feels pretty weird," Elsa said over the phone as Emma navigated her way through the aisles of the pharmacy. "Good, but weird."

"I know what you mean," Emma said softly. "I feel like we've been hustling to get business for so long and now…now we're finally free of that. I don't know how to react. What am I supposed to do?"

"I was going to ask that," Elsa said, showing no hesitation. "I'm planning to travel a little and then look for a new job. I was thinking about a few things, just can't decide. But I know you'll want to do something. You don't do well with the whole relax and see what happens next kind of life."

"You know me well," Emma said, she hesitated, her hand gripping the red plastic basket tightly. "I was thinking about something, but I'm not sure if it will work or if it's a good idea." Emma had never been one to bounce ideas off people. She usually made decisions and announcements and did not spend hours overanalyzing details with friends until people waved a white flag of surrender.

Elsa laughed. "If it involves that hot guy, Killian, I vote yes," she said, pausing while Emma huffed a half-hearted protest. "Oh, you knew I wasn't going to stay quiet. This is not something I ever say to you. No matter who you date, I'm usually the one who just tells you to be safe and have fun, but seriously, Emma. Use the money from this sale, buy tickets to Vegas and go marry that man. Move to a country house, live on his boat, buy a mansion in Florida. It doesn't matter. Just hang on to him. Go for it."

"Elsa, I've known the guy a week," she said. "I think it is a bit premature to…"

"I rarely say this, but at the risk of sounding like my romantically inclined sister I will. Does it feel right? I know it does. I saw how he looked at you. Emma, I don't care if you've known each other a year, a month, a week, or an hour. You know when it's right."

Emma let an older woman pass her, pausing in front of the shampoo and looking at the bottles of fruit and flower scented liquids. "I don't know anything," Emma said. "And besides it is too soon. I don't know how he feels or if what I feel is anything more than a fleeting thing."

"You know how you feel," Elsa protested. "And I don't think he's making it a secret about how he feels. Do me a favor. Don't shut him out because you think it is too soon, too fast, or not the right time. Please. Stop looking for excuses."

***AAA***

It's not an excuse, Emma thought as she closed her eyes to the glare of her laptop. She had been scouring the Internet for the past two hours and her eyes watered at the bright colors of the web pages and her head hurt from an overload of information. She was not even sure where to begin or how to make this decision, but it played in her mind over and over like that one lyric of a song that you couldn't get out of your head.

It had been an offhanded remark by Elsa, but it was something that Emma had considered for a long time. It was something that had bothered her, something that felt like it was missing. She'd brushed it aside with a stack of other lost opportunities and forgotten goals, but dreams don't always go quietly.

Her fingers flew across the computer's keyboard, asking questions in an e-mail to some administrator and her mind reeled with the possibility. The money that she was receiving from the sale of the company and other bits would mean that she could actually do this. Sure, it would be tight, but she might actually find herself a college student in the fall of the year.

It was far from a done deal. She had to take tests, apply, and decide if this was something she could and wanted to do. It wasn't quite the same dream. She wasn't talking about dorm rooms, frat parties, and breakfast at midnight with six friends and roommates. But a class or two at a community college was a doable task, maybe more later, but that would wait to be seen.

Just do it, she told herself as she hovered the curser over the payment button for an exam. Taking it wasn't a commitment. She could still back out.

***AAA***

Emma's next stop was the library where she found Mary Margaret behind the desk. "Belle is at the hospital?" she asked the woman, a bit uneasy given the circumstances. "You were…"

"I suppose. Belle was not comfortable leaving him alone given his condition. No matter what he did, he's her husband and she feels like she should be there." Mary Margaret gave a little shrug and turned to the computer screen and made a few clicks. "I had today off since a science teacher is doing the afternoon class. So here I am."

"You're a busy woman," Emma said honestly. "You are a great friend to Belle to do this. I really owe Belle and wish I knew what to say to her. I can't imagine all that she must be feeling." Emma leaned her elbows on the desk. "It's hard. I know."

"Belle sees the best in everyone," the teacher said. "We all try to do that, I suppose, but Belle takes that idea to the extreme sometimes. She is so loving and cannot imagine anyone she loves doing something as horrible as what her husband did. I can imagine that she is suffering with both the knowledge that he has done things, but also that she never realized it or believed it." Mary Margaret bobbed her head in agreement with herself, pushing some of the papers on her desk around as though to look for something. "So people don't just walk in this library for the heck of it. Not with tablets, laptops and all. What can I do for you?" She sighed folding her hands in front of her and trying to push away the uncertainty and change the subject.

"I guess I'm a little confused myself," Emma said. "I haven't been inside a library except with Henry for a long time." She was well read and enjoyed the process, but there was something about going into a library that seemed too formal.

The brunette's complacent expression said that Emma was not the first person to be a little out of place in a library. "Is there something you needed?" While she had already asked one variation of the question, Mary Margaret did not seem that annoyed. Her face was almost blank with its concern and/or frustration. "Emma, it's okay. I'm here to work."

Emma hated to be the one who did not understand, hated more than anything to be the person who was feeling weak in a situation. "I was thinking that I might like to take some classes at a college. But I'm not quite sure where to start."

***AAA***

Emma was standing on the docks when Killian and the students arrived back from their morning lessons, his surprised look all the reason in the world she needed to smile herself. She was still watching him talk with some of the children as they disembarked and headed for the waiting school bus. Only Henry bounding up to her with a huge smile seemed to break the spell of watching him.

"We saw three in a row and another one spouting," Henry told her, excited that they were actually getting a chance to see some of the whales they had been learning about. They were so close, Mom. It was amazing!"

Her son looked a bit windblown and his cheeks were starting to have a pink glow from his excitement and the sun that had beat down on him. She almost said something about reminding him to wear sunscreen, a daily statement that had come out of her mouth between instructions of brushing his teeth and making sure he had charged his phone.

"Sounds like it," she said. "And what about this afternoon. What is going on there?"

"We're studying something about archeology," he said, glancing over his shoulder where his classmates were finishing gathering their belongings. "I have to go."

"Go," she said, resisting the urge to embarrass him with a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to talk to Killian."

"Mom?" His bag hung on his shoulder and readjusted it twice. "You know I think he's okay. I mean if you want…"

Emma smiled. "I know, kid," she said. "I think he's okay too."

Killian winked at her as the children dispersed and held up a finger that he would be back in just a moment. She walked the length of the boat, her hand tracing the wood that was polished and worn smooth, seeing the care and effort he took. It was not until the bus was pulling off that Killian hopped on to the decking with a loud thud to startle her. "I wasn't expecting to see you, love," he said, "but I appreciate the surprise."

"I didn't get a chance to ask you about your lunch plans this morning," she said. "You left pretty early."

Bending at the waist, he swung under a piece of rigging to stand before her, the smile already playing on his lips. "I missed you too," he said, dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth and then brushing over the fullness of her lips. She groaned in frustration as he pulled away without fully kissing her, lips chasing his in an attempt to remedy the situation.

"I didn't say I missed you," she said, folding her arms over her chest with a defiant sneer. "I said you left early."

"I didn't bring an extra set of clothes and thought it best to not reveal too much about us to the boy even if we are taking things a bit slow right now." He was right. The night before he had driven both her and Henry to Granny's. She had invited him up and after a game of cards with Henry and a make out session once her son was asleep, she heard herself ask him to stay the night. Once again he had simply held her, letting her set the pace for the depth of their relationship.

"Will you bring some tonight?" Her voice sounded a bit huskier than she meant it to and she wanted to blush and wipe away the question when his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. "I…"

"I will be better prepared, love," he said. "Now, I don't think you came to discuss my packing or my attire. So what did you have in mind?"

She smiled, her eyes squinting in the sun and her hands fumbling for the sunglasses that she picked up at the pharmacy because she always seemed to lose hers no matter how organized she was about things. "Maybe we could just spend some time together not worrying about how to handle Mr. Gold. I wanted it just to be…

"Just us," he said, his expression hopeful as she pressed the glasses into place. "I think that could be done."

"Good," she said, backing away from him. "Then come on. I'm hungry." She grabbed his hand in hers and tugged indicating her desired direction with a tilt of her head. "Come on…"

This was a fun side of her, he thought, as he followed her and jumped into the yellow bug beside her. "So what are we eating?" he asked. "Or do you have a plan."

"I have an idea," she said, wrinkling her nose and pursing her lips in her best thoughtful display. "Do you have plans this afternoon or can I steal you away?"

"Steal away, love. I'm all yours."

She was quite amazed that he did not ask any more where they were going or what she was up to as she drove over the town line and down the road toward what looked like absolutely nothing. Instead, he asked her about Henry, her favorite movies, and books, and most anything that might reveal more about her. They debated the merits of sequels that he said were generally a bad idea and discussed secret television habits like reality dating shows and infomercials they had both bought things from in the middle of the night.

When she pulled into a parking lot 45 minutes later, he leaned forward and stared at the three story brick building in front of them through the windshield. "I'm assuming you're purposely trying to be coy, Swan, but I'm perplexed. Why did you bring me here?"

She fidgeted a bit as he leaned back against the seat. "Mary Margaret said you knew a few things about this place," she said, squinting out at the building that seemed intimidating to her. "She said you had a good brain to pick."

His laugh sounded nervous, almost too tense as he looked back at the building. "I have worked here," he said simply. "It's…Emma?" He had originally taught a few classes at the traditional looking campus before concentrating more on research and providing maritime services for other academic groups. Occasionally he would teach a class or two, but usually only after quite a bit of convincing by his dean. He preferred to view himself as a sailor than a teacher, but the steadiness of the money was more appealing with teaching than the feast or famine way he lived with his boat.

"I was thinking," she said, frowning up at the sun through the window. "I was thinking I might like to try going to school. Maybe a class or two. It's just that I never had that opportunity and with this money, I think I could swing it. I mean I would have to be careful. I couldn't go crazy." She pushed her hair behind her ears and then pulled it forward again. In the next moment her fingers adjusted her earrings and then back to her hair. He finally reached out to grab her right hand, his right arm crossing over his chest to reach her. She stopped and smiled. "It's stupid, right? Emma Swan, college student?"

"I think it sounds grand," he said. "I should think anyone who fights and goes for their dreams and goals is a marvel, but especially you, love." His smile seemed comforting and encouraging, but she did not let her eyes rest on it long. Instead, she leaned forward and folded her arms on the steering wheel and leaned her head there.

"I was just going to come and get a brochure," she said. "I thought that sounded easy. I thought it sounded like something I could do. I mean I could call for one or even download one, but I wanted to see what it felt like to walk…I don't know. I don't even know if this is the right…"

The passenger door of the yellow bug creaked open and he was out of his seat before she finished her sentence. She watched him sprint around the car and yank open her door too, pulling her to her feet and kissing her firmly before wrapping his left arm around her waist. "Why don't I give you a tour?" he asked, guiding her along. "I won't even charge for the behind the scenes parts."

Later when they talked about the college and the tour, she would tell him that he had led her, forced her into the admissions office after showing her classrooms, the library, a student center, some of the labs, and every other building she could imagine. He would argue that she had pulled him along, excited and nervous at the same time. They wouldn't agree aloud, but it was clear both were right. She was quick was to use words like if and maybe. He used more definite words like when and certainly.

Mary Margaret offered to take Henry to dinner before Emma ever asked, calling to inform her that she was doing so before the mother even had a chance to worry about making it back in time to pick him up. Killian had sprung into action at the news and given her directions to a college hang out that he said served greasy food that would firmly put this school onto her short list of possibilities.

Pulling into the parking lot, an uneven and unpaved space that probably had thrown a few cars out of alignment, Emma questioned him on his choice. "When was the last time a health inspector came out here?" she asked, regarding the building that looked as if it had seen better days.

"Snob," he taunted, walking in front of her as if challenging her to follow him through the wooden door and into a termite's dream of an interior. Wooden beams lined the ceiling and the splintered floors were uneven and stained. Each table with a four top and boasted a bucket of sauces, salt and pepper, and a roll of paper towels. T-shirts and jerseys from the college's sports teams and fraternities/sororities decorated the planks of the walls and hung from the ceiling to the point that it was a sea of color. A small raised platform stood at one end and a counter even smaller than the one at Granny's was at the other. "Two plates," he said to a woman behind the counter wearing a logo covered shirt.

Emma looked at him quizzically for ordering for them, as he did not usually make decisions for her without her consultation. He smirked and pulled out her chair. "There isn't a menu, love. It is chicken fingers, fries, and toast or nothing."

"That makes it simple," she said, scanning the half full room and feeling old in comparison to the customer base of late teen and early twenty somethings. "Come here much?"

"Usually for a to-go order," he admitted, "but if you are considering matriculating then we have to see if you are truly ready. If we did not have to drive back, I might even prepare you with some drinking games."

She sipped her soda, a bubbly and sugary drink, out of her straw and eyed him with some incredulousness that he would think she could ever fit in as a college student. "Here I thought you were going to offer me advice on applications and schedules. I figured you could tell me about the best place to buy books and what highlighters to buy. Study skills and stuff like that."

His lips pushed together as though he was trying to decide which advice to offer first. Leaning forward, he motioned for her to do the same. "I will help in any way I can, Emma, but I also thought I might enjoy the idea of dating a student. There is something a little forbidden and wicked about that for me."

She didn't pull back, smiling secretively at him. "Is there now? And you like that feeling?"

"Of course, love." The food being delivered forced them to pull back from each other. Still he never referred to her plans as anything but certain. She quit arguing as they ate, agreeing that it all sounded pretty nice. However, she never went into specifics. A band of scruffy looking college students had arrived, shouting out hellos to some of the regulars as they dragged their instruments and equipment over to the raised stage platform.

"You could continue to live in Storybrooke and go to school here," Killian said, finally broaching the subject again. "There are plenty of people who do that. It might come easier than moving to this town that does seem to be a little more geared toward the younger students."

She twirled the straw in her drink, the ice rattling. "I haven't decided anything," she reminded him. "New York and Boston are options, you know. There are plenty of schools, housing options. It could be better…" The way his face momentarily fell did not escape her notice. "But it also depends about Henry and school. I have to make sure his school is a good one."

"Should I start spouting the benefits of Storybrooke Academy," he said, wiping at a bit of the sauce he had spilled. "I could probably come up with some great statistics."

"I know it is a good school," Emma said. "I'm not discounting it and Mary Margaret gave me a brochure with all those statistics."

He grinned as one of the local bands began warming up on the low version of a stage. "Then I will have to come up with a new way to persuade you to life here in Maine."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret had texted that they were a few minutes away from the end of a movie and would drive Henry back to Granny's as soon as it was over. Emma couldn't help but smile at the attached photo of her son curled up on the floor in front of the sofa with the couple's dog in his lap and David sitting next to him with both of their attention rapt on the television screen. She had imagined that a million times since he had been born, a real family situation for him. She had thought about seeing him bound off a school bus and being there for every soccer game and science fair.

She and Killian were curled up together in the sitting room of hers and Henry's rooms at Granny's. It was barely big enough to be considered anything of substance. However, Granny had decorated it with a sofa, chair, small television, and two bookcases of tired and tattered paperbacks that seemed to change titles as people left one behind and took another. All conversation about her plans and thoughts had stopped as they sat there with her legs over his lap and her back against the arm of the sofa. Their kisses were lazy and soft, an underlying need bubbling to the surface as hands began to explore. His mouth trailed away from hers in a serpentine type pattern across her jaw and down her neck. His lips were warm on her skin and interspersed with tiny nips and licks. Each time she responded he smiled, the outline evident against her.

Three times he had said he should probably go before Henry returned and she had only pulled his mouth back to hers without reply. He did not seem that intent on leaving anyway, as she could not help but notice that he had followed her earlier request to bring a change of clothes by for the next day. Nothing had really been said about it, as he had dropped the bag conspicuously beside one of the potted plants and continued on his way into the room.

"Perhaps I could stay a bit longer," he said, near her ear with the warmth of his breath against her making her shiver.

"Henry will be here soon," she reminded him. "But yes, you should stay." She sank lower into the cushions into a nearly reclined position as he shifted over her. His eyes seemed a darker shade of blue and her own flashed back to him.

"Emma," he said a bit roughly, looking down at her expectant gaze. "I…"

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the obvious return of her son whose footsteps echoed on the stairs and down the hallway. She smiled apologetically back at him, smoothing down a bit of the ruffled hair and swinging her legs so that her feet were once again on the ground. Swallowing hard, stood up and pulled her up beside him as Henry entered the room.

If Henry noticed their flushed faces and kiss swollen lips, he paid no mind to it as he rattled off about the movie, the homemade ice cream, and the dog. He barely allowed anyone else to get in a word as he began his nightly ritual of packing his backpack for the next day for the first time without prodding from Emma. He greeted them both and managed to collapse into the chair next to the sofa with a satisfied but exhausted sigh.

"Think we'll see more whales tomorrow?" Henry asked Killian, kicking his sneaker covered feet up on the table. Noting the eyebrow raise from his mother, he lowered them just as quickly.

"You never can predict those things, lad," Killian answered. "But I would say our chances are quite good."

Henry's smile was wide, folding his hands across his middle. "I can't wait. Mom, you should see them. It's so cool!"

Emma's pride her in son's enthusiasm over something other than a video game or a comic book was evident as she leaned part way against Killian and watched her son practically bounce with excitement. "I bet it is."

Killian's hand covered hers on his denim covered thigh, threading his fingers through hers. "Perhaps," he said, casting look to both mother and son before he continued, "the three of us could sail tomorrow evening before sunset. I know of a spot that is usually frequented by whales feeding about that time of day."

"Awesome," Henry said, nodding enthusiastically before both he and Killian looked to her for her acceptance of the idea.

"I think I could be persuaded into that," Emma answered, biting back a laugh that both of them looked to be silently pleading with her to say yes. Both of them actually cheered when she agreed.

Thoughts? Reviews? Everyone survive the season finale?