Emma took in a deep breath as she listened to the phone ring in her ear. She thought that she could faintly here the ringing from the other side of the door.

"Hello."

"Hey… Mary Margaret." She removed the phone from her ear and quietly cleared her throat.

"Emma?" She heard the confusion laced in her voice.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" She turned away from the door, looking back at her car parked on the curb. "I know it's kind of late."

"It's only late for Leo," Mary Margaret said singsong voice. "We're just about to get him ready for bed. But for us, it's still early."

"Good," Emma sighed. "Are you up for some company? I need some company Do you mind if I come over?"

"It feels like I haven't seen you in ages. Yes, come over."

"Good, because I'm outside. Just open the door." Emma pressed the end button on her phone and promptly slid it into her back pocket. With a quick secession of knocks on the door, she stepped back and waited.

It was David who opened the door a few moments later. A look of wonderment was written over his face.

"Surprise, surprise. Emma." His smile was big and his embrace warm as he brought her into his arms.

For a second she felt herself slip. The feel of being in loving and caring arms- ha, the irony!- was almost her undoing. The way his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, bringing her close to his heart, was the most secure feeling that she could have had.

She had believed she had found that for herself in Killian. Damn, that bubble!

"Come in," David told her, pulling back just a little. And then he took a moment to look at her. To really look at her. "What's wrong, Emma?"

Emma shook her head and slid past him and into the house.

"I'm fine." Her steps were slow and careful. She knew she had to shake the feelings of anxiousness or she would break down. Emma had already decided she would not break down.

"Where's Mary Margaret?" she asked, moving into the house and peering around, looking for her best friend.

"She went to put Leo down for the night."

Emma turned back to look at David, his tone of voice reflecting a bit of worry. When she did, she saw the way he was taking inventory of every inch of her.

"Emma?"

She gave him her biggest and brightest smile. "I'm fine." Or she would be fine soon enough.

David's eyes came up to meet hers. His mouth was set in a grim line as he just looked at her.

"No, you're not."

Emma's smile, small and slight, was true this time. Best friends were the best.

"I meant that I will be fine," she amended.

"Why? What happened?"

It was Mary Margaret's question. Emma turned around swiftly to see her best friend walking briskly into the room. She was coming straight for Emma with a smile on her face and arms outstretched.

Best friends that were as close and as meaningful as family, that's what Mary Margaret and David were, Emma thought as she laid her head down on the shorter women's shoulder.

"What happened, Emma?" she asked again, a firmness in her voice.

This time, pulling back from her, Emma did laugh.

"Life happened," she said with a lift of a shoulder. "My life happened."

"And what does that supposed to mean?" Mary Margaret shook her head, looking confused.

"Take her in the kitchen, Mary Margaret," David said from behind them. "Get her a cup of coffee. We can talk in there."

"It's too late for coffee," Emma told them, feeling the instant tug of Mary Margaret's hand pulling her forward.

"No matter. We'll find something. And we can talk."

Emma let her lead them the way to the kitchen, hand in hand.

She couldn't help but be transfixed by the life she saw in front of her.

Mary Margaret and David had made this beautiful life for themselves. It wasn't an apartment that they lived in. Their home was a house. A beautiful house filled with memories and trinkets they had made throughout the years. Photos lined the walls of what a perfect life they had before the baby and even more since Leo had joined their family.

Family. A real family. One filled with love, acceptance, compassion, and everything else most people only dreamed of.

Emma had dreamed of it. She had worked hard to have it. But it was with the wrong person. She had tried with the wrong person, making her life miserable in the process.

If she wanted to be honest with herself then she was going to have to dig deeper. She couldn't put the blame of an unfulfilled life all on a failed marriage. Was she ready for that?

Emma stopped walking, planting her feet firmly on the carpeted floor.

"I don't want anything to drink," she told Mary Margaret, searching her eyes when she looked back at her. She felt an overwhelming sadness for herself and it wasn't going away.

"Then what do you want, Emma?" Mary Margaret asked softly. "What can I do for you?"

"What do you need, Emma?"

She swallowed hard, looking from one to the other.

"Do you mind if I just spend the night here? I don't want to go home."

She didn't want to go home. Home meant being alone. Home meant fixating on him and his accusations. His accusations meant facing her past. Her past meant Neal and a baby who was never named. The domino effect was far too great. No, she didn't want to go home.

Mary Margaret and David shared a quick look of concern between them.

It was David who moved first, nodding his head and reaching out for her.

"That's fine, Emma. The guest bedroom is already ready."

Perfect people and their perfect families had perfect guestrooms already perfectly made up in their perfect homes…

"I'll go get some extra blankets and have it all set up for you." He squeezed her hand firmly before letting it go and walking off to do his task.

"What happened?" Mary Margaret's face showed a tinge of anger.

Emma smiled at her friend. "I'm sorry, but the boat trip is off. I hope you weren't looking forward to it too much."

Mary Margaret's face seemed to crumble. "Emma? Emma, I'm so sorry." Her hand came up to caress her cheek. "What happened? Other than your life, that it."

Emma's eyes closed, her thoughts turning to what brought her here.

The only reason you are in grief counseling is because you feel guilty that he died before you had the chance to set your plan in motion.

Those were the words she struggled with the most. It was a question that had been pushed so far back in her mind that the instant he said it it had triggered despair in her. Was she guilty? Did she have anything besides guilt that made her burn for Neal? So she wasn't in love with him anymore at the end. She had finally decided to do something about it. Didn't that count? Didn't that alleviate some of the guilt?

Emma looked back at Mary Margaret, the pain so clear in her face as she waited for an answer.

"Two broken souls don't always come together and mend one another. At least, it isn't easy."

Sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for this to be all over. And then things will be all right in the world.

So… now everything was over. She had said it herself, and with finality. It was all his fault, but at that moment… the situations of Milah and Emma had been too much.

His relationship with Emma was over.

It was over? Everything that he had done for her… Everything that she had done to him…

Was everything alright with the world now? It was too early to make that decision as of yet. She'd just left. It would take time to ruminate in his mind.

Blonde curls that fell loosely through his fingertips.

He didn't call her. He didn't text her. Should he have reached out to her? He had barely tried to stop her when she was only feet away from him and furthering the gap. So how could he do it with miles and miles between them?

Her fingertips brushing up against his shoulders and down his chest.

No, Killian still did not reach out for her. Instead, he stripped himself of all those damned confining clothes that bound him, leaving a trail on his path to the bathroom. Shoe, shoe, tie, sock, sock, shirt…

Green eyes sparkling as she throws her head back, laughing lightly.

The shower head, set on full body spray, pulsed out a screaming hot stream of water. He wanted the burn to take away some of the edge. He wanted the heat to seep through his pores and take away some of the ache that was beginning to climb through his body.

Killian hadn't meant to accuse her of feeling guilty over Neal's death. The whole thing had just slipped out. He had wanted to push her at that point in time. She was poking and he answered back.

Poking? She just wanted him to be honest and direct with her. He'd known that therapy was going to open up a battle between them. Yet he did it anyway.

Because he had to! It had been building in him for too long and it wasn't going to get any better.

Had he expected for her to walk out on him? Well, he hadn't said those things so that she would leave. But he had said them, so it was an understandable reaction on her part.

Emma had looked broken. He had broken her. She had not been whole in the beginning, and yet he broke her into even smaller pieces.

He couldn't go after her. He was still in pain himself. Was he happy to be alone?

Waking up in bed with her feet tangled with his.

She shouldn't have come home with him. She should have given him this evening to himself.

It was when he was lying in bed- the bed he had bought for them- he stared up at the ceiling. Clothes were too confining. Even trying to put on a pair of underwear felt too constricting. So he laid there, naked and in deep thought.

"What did I do?" Killian's hand roamed the empty side of the smaller bed. Just as important, what had she done to him?

He had feared the closeness, and yet craved it at the same time. But now that it was gone- now that she was gone- the loneliness had crept up inside him.

"Happy anniversary!"

Neal's smile was infectious, making Emma smile right back at him.

"Happy anniversary to you, too."

"I have your present," he told her with his grin growing. He nuzzled up against her, placing a quick peck on her cheek.

"Sounds exciting. Give it to me."

"Well, first you have to close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Emma bit down on her lip as she looked him over inquisitively. "It's small enough to fit in my hand, hmm?"

Neal laughed. He was looking giddier than she had ever known him to be.

"Hold out your hands, Emma, and close your eyes. This will be the biggest one month anniversary gift anyone could ever deserve to receive. Close your eyes."

With one more quick skeptical look at the man in front of her, Emma sighed and did as he requested. She pressed her hands out in front of her and waited for him to surprise her.

He only took one of her hands in his.

"I love you, Emma."

She giggled at his declaration. "I love you, too, Neal."

And then her hand was being turned from palm-up to palm-down. The feel of the rotation made her nervous. It was the feel of the band slipping over her ring finger, slipping into place at the base of finger, which caught her by surprise.

"Neal," she gasped as her eyes flew open.

He was grinning, pulling her hand around his back and pressing his chest to hers.

"Marry me, Emma," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulder. "Let me give you the world. It'll be ours for the taking. Just you and me."

Her mouth hung open as she just stared at him, mesmerized by the request.

Dazed, she shook her head. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack, babe."

"It's been a month."

"The best month of my life. I want it to be this forever kind of a deal."

Emma stuttered into this smile of disbelief. "You're serious?"

"I'm serious."

He was offering her this fairytale. He was offering her this happily ever after. And even though it had only been a month, she wanted it more than she could have ever known.

"What do you say, Emma?" There was a nervousness starting to outshine the hopefulness in his eyes. "Say yes."

"Yes." And it was as simple as that.

"Yeah?" It was a mixture of disbelief and relief in that one-word question. His arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Emma laughed, herself in shock. "Yeah, I'll marry you, Neal. Now give me my hand back so that I can see how well I came out in this deal."

Neal place a quick kiss to her cheek before bringing her left hand back from behind his back.

"It's not much," he warned her. "But I couldn't hold back from asking anyway."

It was a simple ring. A hand engraved solitaire engagement right made of yellow gold. It was adorable. And unbelievable. And just for her.

"It may not be the most expensive piece out there, but it's not the cheapest either," Neal told her, holding her wrist up as she admired the ring.

"Neal, it's beautiful!" she assured him.

"Yeah?" His eyes squinted at her while his lip quirked a bit.

"Yeah." She pulled her arm away from him so that she could wrap them around his neck.

"Emma Swan is going to be Emma Cassidy," he murmured in her ear. "I like the sound of that."

Her arm tightened around him, holding him close. "I love the sound of it."

There was a scent of morning in the air, Emma noted, sitting up in the bed.

What time was it? Did she oversleep? She was no way near in the condition to go to work today. She'd have to rush home and get ready first, and she was sure there was no time for that.

Emma stood up from the bed, scanning the room for where her phone just might be.

She discovered it sitting on the dresser in front of her, already on a charger and battery completely full.

No messages, hm. She tried not to feel any certain type of way about that fact.

And yes, she was going to be late for work.

Emma opened the bedroom door and was hit even more by the wave of breakfast somewhere near. Before she would make her appearance to the family she made a beeline for the bathroom so that she could clean herself up a bit first.

She didn't know how long she had been in there. She only knew that she needed to have a grasp on her world before she walked out and faced everything else.

She'd doused her face, washing away all the crap from yesterday. She wasn't prepared for the brief thought of waking up next to Killian and checking for any embarrassing drool like the first night they'd spent together. But there it was. It was soon followed by the thought of what brought her here to her friends' home. The pain was back.

She wasn't going to let it stick around. She was going to turn this something negative into a learning experience for herself.

Emma couldn't deny the fact that she had fallen in love with the man. It hadn't been the quick and fleeting kind of love affair that she had longed feared it to be. It had been that fear in which had lead her to go at his slow and careful pace. No, Killian was a man she saw herself being true to and happy with and for a very long time.

It was love.

And now… it was over.

She swallowed the lump down in her throat, refusing to dwell on it. She could try to forgive the statement he'd made, because it had opened herself up to recognizing her own flaws. But she could not forgive the man who had made the statement in such a callous and cold manner.

Leaving the bathroom, feeling somewhat stronger than she had when she went in, she held her head high as she walked towards the still yummy smelling breakfast.

It was David she was greeted by in the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said too brightly, taking his attention away from loading the dishwasher.

His smile for her was small and his eyes once again seemed to do a slow visual check of how she was doing.

"Good morning, Emma."

"Um… I'm going to have to get out of here. I'm late for work."

"No, you're not," he said with a shake of her head. "Mary Margaret made a judgment called- based on checking up on you throughout the night- and called your office this morning. She let them know that you wouldn't be coming in today."

Emma was only slightly put off by that fact. It didn't completely surprise her, and she was silently trying to put it in perspective.

"And yet… she has already gone about her day, right?"

David nodded. "She's gone." He moved away from the counter and made his way over to the kitchen table. He simultaneously pulled out two chairs. "Come sit down and have breakfast."

It was then that she noticed how her stomach had been reacting to the smell of… the pancakes and scrambled eggs sitting on the table.

"I heard you get up and head to the bathroom," David explained.

Emma hadn't had a bite to eat in probably fifteen hours. And everything looked so good.

"Thank you, David," she told him softly, takin a seat at the table.

He simply nodded as he sat down across from her. But he kept watching her, in that all-consuming way.

She picked up the fork sitting beside her plate.

"Leo?"

"He's still sleeping."

She nodded. Looking back down at the food in front of her, her hunger couldn't outweigh the anxiousness she felt with him watching her.

"What, David?"

He sat back in his chair and offered her a shrug. "Mary Margaret told me why you spent the night. Not that you shared much with her."

"Were you looking forward to the boat outing as well, David?"

He scoffed at her attempt at humor. "I was looking forward to seeing you happy."

"I'm…" happy would be a lie. A lie should wouldn't be able to tell with a straight face. "I'm dealing with everything." She stuck her fork into the heap of eggs before her.

"What happened?"

Emma looked back up at David to see the imploring and inquisitive stare. She opened her mouth, and then closed it once again. It hadn't started with Killian. He had brought it to the forefront, but her issues had stemmed from something before him.

David was her friend. He and Mary Margaret were her family. Yet, they didn't know those huge secrets which made Emma who she was. If there was anything she had learned from group therapy and Killian Jones, it was that if she wanted to move on (and she desperately needed to), she was going to have to confront her demons.

She inhaled a deep and steadying breath.

"I was… pregnant, David," she started. And maybe that was the wrong way, because the fury that blazed through David's eyes was instant.

"He got you-"

"No! No. Not Killian." She sighed. "I never told you guys. I never told anyone." She threw him a sidelong glance, but knew he deserved better than that. So she lifted her gaze to look straight at him. "After Neal died, I … miscarried," she whispered. "I lost my baby with Neal."

David drew in closer to her, his hand reaching over the table and placed near hers.

"Emma, I had no idea."

She shook her head. "No one did."

David looked truly perplexed, and she understood immediately. How could she not tell anyone, especially Mary Margaret?

"It happened after the funeral," she said in answer to his silent question. "I didn't even know until after the fact. So there was no reason to say anything."

"But… it effected you, Emma."

"It was a punishment, David," she said with a shake of her head.

"What does that supposed to mean?"

Emma smiled across at him. Her tale was long and each part connected so peculiarly to the other parts. So she really could continue at any section of her life's story.

"Do you understand how good you have it, David?" she asked softly. "You, and Mary Margaret, and Leo?"

"I-"

"People spend lifetimes trying to achieve what seems to have come so easily to you." If she sounded astounded and in awe by that, it was because she was. "And I, for one, am one of those people."

"Emma…"

"I was leaving Neal." She'd said it. Staring straight into his eyes, staring with this wonderment of David's true understanding of what she'd said.

He watched her with pure confusion crossing his face. His eyebrows had drawn together as his eyes cut sharply to hers.

"I was leaving Neal," she said again, wanting him to understand what she had meant.

"Okay." Apparently he didn't know what else to say. "Why, Emma? Why were you going to leave Neal? I thought you two were happy. You looked happy- Neal was a great guy."

It was a reaction that Emma had expected: why leave Neal when he is a great guy?

"I wasn't happy," she shared with him. "It didn't matter that he was a great guy. There are a lot of nice people in the world. That doesn't mean pick any one of them on a whim and have a happy and successful marriage."

David was slow to nod his head in understanding.

"Mary Margaret had basically labeled me a flake when it came to men."

"Emma, that's going too far," David said, quickly defending his wife.

"Is it? She questioned every single relationship. Every single guy. Even Neal."

"It was a four-week relationship," he reminded her, pointing a long finger her way. "You don't think we should have had reservations when you hopped a plane to Vegas to get married?"

"Then why be shocked when I tell you that I was leaving him?"

His eyes darted across her face, looking taken aback by her question. "Like I said, you were married for two years and you both looked happy."

"I wasn't happy," she told him again, wishing that it would sink in.

Emma thought that maybe that time it had been conveyed to David. His expression was one full of empathy for her issues.

"I was finally going to leave him, David," she continued. "I had failed him and our marriage. I had failed to live up to my own expectations. I… had failed to live up to your and Mary Margaret's expectations. But I had to try to be happy again."

"Did you really think-"

"Your opinions matter to me," she cut in before he could say that they shouldn't. "I was going to be disappointing people. But I was going to do it anyway. I'd packed, David. I was leaving and going to a hotel when Neal's captain called me."

"You were leaving right at that moment?" David asked, his eyes incredulous.

"It nearly killed me. It was like… I put it out there in the universe. Because I chose not to work on my relationship and my problems- because I had chosen to take the easy path- he… he died."

With a scrape of chair legs against the tiled kitchen floor, David moved closer to her.

"You know that's not true, Emma." He pulled her into a bear hug, keeping her close. "Emma, there was nothing that anybody could have done to save Neal in that fire. He went back in there, trying to live up to his character. He died trying to save people. It had nothing to do with you."

Logistically, it made sense. It was her warped thinking that had lead her into group therapy to cope with her thoughts. And it was Killian's words that burned in her mind.

You lost the man you no longer loved, Emma. You lost the man you were planning on leaving that same day. The only reason you are in grief counseling is because you feel guilty that he died before you had the chance to set your plan in motion.

"He said that is why I am in mourning," she murmured, moving out of his embrace.

David frown. "He?"

"Killian," she clarified. "That's why I left. He said it, David." She was looking into his face, but it was a struggle to actually focus. "He mourns for the love of his life while I mourn for a man I had already stopped loving."

"That bastard had the nerve to say that to you?" And the fury was back. His hand clasped her wrist a bit too tightly.

"He was right."

In his confusion, David loosened his grip on her.

"I wanted to confront my problems, but I didn't want to dig deep. So how the hell was I helping myself? How the hell was I supposed to let others help me when I was denying the bigger picture?"

These were questions she was asking herself as well as him.

She saw the visible hard swallow as David continued to watch her.

"Okay. So you weren't in love with him anymore. It doesn't change the fact that you loved him. It doesn't change the fact that you didn't wish harm on him."

Emma shook her head. "I didn't want to lose Neal like that." She sighed, feeling too many feelings and wanting it to stop for just a moment. A small smile. "Is Mary Margaret going to be angry that I didn't tell her all of this first?"

David's smile just as slight. "It's a great possibility." He placed his hand over hers. "Emma?"

"Yeah?"

He picked her hand up and held on firmly.

"Do you want me to go over there and beat the crap out of that guy?"

Emma's smile turned into a giggle which then turned into a burst of laughter. He smiled, too, but she knew he was completely serious.

"No, David. I don't want you to go and beat Killian up." Her lips pursed as his image clouded her mind. She understood him. She knew where he was coming from and his state of mind last night. And even if it was over- even though she knew she had to fix herself before she could move on- the feelings hadn't bled out of her.

"I…" It was true, she knew. "I love him."

David's exhale of breath was harsh.

Emma looked over at him with sad eyes.

"Can I just borrow something from you?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Seriously, Emma?"

And she laughed again.

"My life. When isn't it a mess?"