Chapter Twenty Five: Emergency

…

I'm hangin' on another day

Just to see what you throw my way

And I'm hanging on to the words you say

You said that I will be okay

~Broken, Lifehouse

….

Emma smiled as she leaned back in her chair at the table and everyone fawned over the knitted sweater, booties and hat that Granny made for her unborn sibling, her mother's belly rotund with seven months of pregnancy. "Emma, look!" her father said, and Emma nodded with more enthusiasm than she actually felt, her thoughts drifting elsewhere as they did often in recent days.

"Hey dad, do you think it's weird that my aunt is going to be like thirteen years younger than me? Or that my grandma is my adopted mom's stepdaughter so she's my stepsister and so I'm my aunt's uncle?" Henry asked his father, and Neal shrugged in his ridiculous burlap-looking clothing and silly hat with a feather through it.

"Dude, you're asking me? Have you seen our family tree?" Everyone around the table laughed and Mary Margaret announced that it was time to eat some cake. Emma mused at the fact that though the former citizens of Storybrooke stuck to many of their old traditions while forsaking others, they kept observing all the holidays and parties like the baby shower they were currently at. As she wondered about this a flash of blue in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned and held out a finger as a blue bird burdened with a rolled up envelope tied to its finger fluttered over to her and landed there. Lowering her hand and placing her other hand over it to conceal the bird, Emma quietly began to slink away with a giddy smile on her face and quickly warming cheeks.

"Where are you going?" Archie's voice sounded and made her jump just as she got to the bottom of the stairs. He'd taken to his cricket/conscience role incredibly well, though his fretting and insight made it hard to lie.

"I got a letter," she hissed quietly. "I'm going to read it."

"Can't it wait until after cake?" He asked with a shrug.

"Unfortunately, no," Emma said simply as she began to trot up the stairs. Archie stared at her for a moment with analytical eyes before they flashed with understanding and he shrugged again.

"If you say so," she heard him mutter as he turned away and headed back to the party. Emma jogged the rest of the way to her her room unimpeded and plopped onto her bed as she opened her hands and untied the letter from the bird while she scratched her chin. She put her in a little cage by her balcony and made sure the water and seeds were stocked before opening the letter and unrolling it eagerly. She laid on her stomach with her legs up in the air at the knees, biting her lip anticipatorily and fingers playing with the silver band that had long since become a pendant on her neck. The letter was written in neat, fancy script, and the paper smelled of dried fruit, dust and salt. It read:

My Dearest Emma,

The stars look beautiful tonight as I write this, and everything beautiful, whether in simplicity or encompassing superiority, makes me think of you. The droplets that hang on the fine threads of a spider web. The workmanship of a bow where the builder's initials have been carved, ornate curves and patterns all around it. The stunning ecosystem of a coral reef with dancing colors that burn your eyes and stay with you for weeks because you've spent more time than is wise watching rainbows of fish flit around it. The way the sunlight dances on the water and dazzles as it shines. The stardust visible amidst the sky when the night is clear of clouds, purple as it twists and laughs, curling around pinpricks of light like waves over stones. You have no idea how much I ache for you. It is as if every fiber of my being, my body and mind and soul, needs you. I've always known this of course, but the farther I am from you the more it hurts to not see your face, touch your hair, kiss your lips. . . but I am getting ahead of myself. It has been a bit over four months since we left, and we're all missing home. Robin longs to hold Roland, and though he says not, I know he yearns to see Regina again. Don't ask; I myself don't rightly understand that relationship. Surprisingly enough the wolf girl and whale have been the only ones without cabin fever, considering they hardly ever leave the mop closet (I've walked in on them far too many times, and it hasn't always been the whale that was with your friend, and vice versa)! Anton is as terrified of me as ever and though I know you don't approve I can't help but enjoy it. Some of that bullying he deserves you know; just the other day he was mucking about with the ropes and a pulley fell on my head! My cranium is now oddly shaped, and I don't need any eyeliner on my left eye at the moment.

We've encountered little more than sirens (worry not my love, the only temptress that I could fall for is you), some unfriendly squid, and a few scattered scoundrels of men. Nothing particularly threatening. And yet we plow onward.

I do so hope to be back in time for the birth of your brother or sister. Any thoughts on a name yet? Knowing your parents it'll be something wonderful that will probably be used less than some other moniker, like "Smelly-bottom" or "Throw-uppy", something blatantly and obviously descriptive. Whatever the name is, I doubt anything could sound more like the most melodious music in the world to me than the words "Emma Swan". I love you, and I miss you, and I am always thinking of you. And this is the first time I've ever been homesick.

Forever Yours,

Capt. Killian Jones

Tears were blurring Emma's vision by the time she finished reading. Damn it! she thought. Why does this always happen when I get a letter from him? I guess I'm just not used to somebody putting me first. Shaking her head, she slid off the bed and went over to her stationary, where she sat and grabbed her quill pen, immediately beginning her reply.

Killian,

I love you. The all-consuming frightening-as-hell kind. I hope you know that. I'm afraid that if I don't tell you or show you enough, it won't be true. Actions speak louder than words, right? Then again, people forget the power and impact a simple certain word can have. Like a name. You're the only one who calls me "Swan", so that's a word that is special, something that immediately gains my attention because I know whose lips and breath first spoke it and that makes it important to me. I know me calling you "Killian" was important to you, too. There are other words that can hurt or uplift people; words that should mean a lot to anyone. "Hate" or "love". Add a "True" in front of that last word and it takes on a whole new meaning. Call someone a curse or insult them with a word you know they loathe and watch their blood boil because that word has power over them. Say "I love you" to another and watch them glow because that word empowers them. I just hope my words, nowhere near as good as yours, are powerful enough to get through.

I miss you. And as long as you're gone that'll definitely be true. I want you here with me right now. Sometimes it's really hard to be around all these people that expect so much from me. Part of me, the royal part I guess, finds it natural and easy to slip into, helping them and talking to them and being in charge of them and catering to every one of their needs, addressing every one of their concerns and shouldering all their problems. Another part, the one that developed in me throughout my life I guess, doesn't give a crap and gets really freakin' annoyed. A lot of the time I feel like all of this, the duties and the struggles, is suffocating me. I have a family. A mother, a father, a son, several tutors and friends, and pretty soon I'm going to be a big sister. I've never had that before, and despite all the time I've had to get used to it, I guess I'm still easily overwhelmed. And that only makes me miss you and your flask of rum more. It doesn't taste the same without the taste of you on the bottle you know.

As for my incoming sibling, I think Mary Margaret and David are thinking something along the lines of Felicity or Faith or something other virtue that can be used as a name and they're at odds over the name for a boy. My mother thinks it should be Andrew or Anthony, while my dad thinks it should be James . . . or possibly Liam. That was your brother's name. I'm pretty sure he knows that. Anyways, like you're one to talk, Captain Hook. You spent a lot of time thinking that one over, didn't you?

Aside from that, there is very little to report. My parents think there's something strange afoot, and Morgan seems a bit skittish as well. Gold and Regina are even more suspicious than usual and are always going about together all conspiratorial-like. Whenever I ask anyone about it they just say they think something's off and get defensive. Killian, I think they're afraid. Of whatever it is you're supposed to be looking for. Be careful, and come back to me. It's already hard when I know you're alright. I don't think I'd be able to live without you.

Heart Won,

Emma

Sighing, she laid back and carefully rolled the paper up, reaching into one of the stationery's drawers to grab a ribbon with which to tie it. She then went over to the bird cage to check on the blue bird, greedily digging into her seed. Knowing the bird needed her rest but impatient to send to Killian, Emma decided to try and get some sleep, in an effort to make the morning seem to come faster. Sighing as she sank into the sheets, she turned her head into the pillow and breathed deeply wishing it smelt of something, or rather, someone, else than freshly washed cotton.

…

Emma groaned as a happy song showed up on the little music player's shuffle and skipped right past it. She couldn't believe she'd found it in one of her old leather jackets, and now here she was, laying on her bed and listening to depressing music, mostly "Everybody Hurts", on repeat. It had been about two hours, and she figured that it would die soon. She also had no way to charge it. "Wonderful," she muttered to herself and her fingers went to her pendant as she gently caressed it and thought of Killian. Two weeks, and no reply. Usually it took him only five days, and he had promised to send her word of everything as often as he could. He also sent out regular, "official" reports to David but her father hadn't received any either. Emma had worried about his safety, and then worried that he had reverted to his old bad-at-villainy self, then hated herself for it, and then decided to feel sorry for herself as she avoided her lessons and duties as best she could, hence the wallowing of sorrows in REM nostalgia. Her door opened and she threw her earbuds away from her ears immediately, sitting up straight and glowering at the intruder; Regina. "What are you doing?!" she growled, but then realization and fear clutched at her heart. "Is it Henry?"

Regina's eyebrows shot up, and seeing Emma's expression she quickly stretched out her hands calmingly. "Oh, nonono! He's watching over Roland and Aurora's baby with his grandmother." Emma sighed with relief as the fear for her son's safety lost grip on her, though the dull throbbing ache of the same feeling for Killian persisted. Knowing Regina wouldn't (or shouldn't) have any other reason for seeing her other than to discuss her son, she eyed her suspiciously and spoke in a terse tone. "Well, my question still stands. What are you doing in here, and what happened to knocking?"

"I did knock, for your information," Regina said coolly, canting her head slightly and peering critically at the music player lying on the comforter. "It appears you were otherwise occupied." Emma glared at her and looked back over to the device as it made a ringing sound and vibrated a bit, a notification showing up briefly before it died.

"Not anymore," she muttered. "Fine then. What do you want?"

Regina smiled tightly with satisfaction as she smoothed out the comforter at the end of the bed before sitting down. Stifling a scowl, Emma drew her legs closer to her and straightened against the headboard as she waited for the former queen to speak. She took note of her elegant and sleek dress, black and covered with shimmering sequins. It hugged her tightly but seemed to allow for freedom of movement and Regina's black hair (grown out and flowing carelessly over her shoulders) to complement the outfit. Compared to her, looking as if she was going to a ball, Emma's own gray sweatpants, too-big white tee and barely kempt tresses, looked even more drab and homely than they were.

Folding her hands and losing her smirk, Regina cleared her throat before beginning. "Well, actually, it's a bit about Henry." Emma straightened up even more and leaned forward, eyes widening slightly and curiosity piqued. Regina noticed this and did not hesitate to continue. "He, and your parents, that...sorceress you brought back with you," Emma smiled internally at Regina's clear spite for Morgan and refusal to acknowledge her magic. "...and I, have all noticed you've been a bit despondent for awhile. Even more so than usual." Emma scoffed and leaned back again, rolling her eyes.

"It's not like I've been shirking my duties or lessons!"

"No, not yet. But you've been putting in minimal effort. Henry is worried about you." Emma opened and closed her mouth, looking down at the the comforter.

"I'm sorry. I won't give him anymore reason to be, okay?" She looked back at Regina to see her nod, and then in an out of character display of compassion, she reached out and softly put her hand on her shoulder and scooted closer slightly, meeting her eyes empathetically.

"I'll be frank. Is this about…. is this about that pirate?"

Emma's mouth flew open, and Regina cocked her head with a patronizing smile.

"Come now, Miss Swan, I think everyone knows about that. Now, I don't know what you could see in that thieving, lying, cheating, drinking-"

"Isn't Robin a thief?" Emma asked suddenly, cocking her head with false innocence, and with a gasp Regina pulled away from her before narrowing her eyes.

"Not anymore. And when he was he stole from the rich to give to the poor. Prince what's-his-face was breaking laws with his taxes, so Robin was just being a patriot. And anyway, what do you know of Sir Hood and I?"

Emma smiled knowingly and tapped her fingers along the headboard cavalierly. "Oh, only what my pirate tells me, and what's fairly obvious."

"Which is. . ." Regina prompted through gritted teeth, though all Emma did was smirk knowingly in response.

"Why don't you tell me so you can debunk the rumors?"

Regina narrowed her eyes even more, before smiling coldly and straightening. "We've…. associated a few times."

"And how far did these associations go?" Emma asked in a sickly sweet voice. Regina raised her eyebrows.

"How far do you think?" she asked with a low and menacing voice. When Emma didn't answer she leaned forward and asked a different question. "How far have you associated with the captain?"

"Well we didn't sleep together," Emma snapped, only after realizing she shouldn't have told Regina anything so personal. The other woman smiled triumphantly at the disclosure of information and tutted as she pursed her lips.

"Ooh, well you know how fickle men of the sea are. I suppose not all of the bountiful beauties he's met so far on his journey can say the same."

"All of them can," Emma ground out, seething.

"Then why hasn't he written to you?" she asked sweetly, and Emma's self-control only barely restrained her from throwing a punch. How the hell does she know about the letters?

"He hasn't written to David either," she retorted, and watched Regina's eyebrows furrow in thought and confusion.

"Then surely something's wrong. I'd say he's gone back to his old ways, but I find myself far more forgiving these days. Why haven't you gone after him?" Though the question was asked without scorn it made Emma bristle.

"I've sent out several birds and later today I was going to go see you to see if you could find him in a magic mirror or something."

Regina's expression grew more befuddled. "From what little I know, that doesn't seem like you."

"What do you mean?"

"I would think you'd go rushing after him yourself by now."

"Well I can't just pack up and leave! Henry-"

"Has a kingdom full of loyal subjects, the Evil Queen for a mother, and the Dark One for a grandfather. Not to mention your parents. They have each other, the dwarves, and even me ready to protect this land. And this land has them. You're reverting, I think, Miss Swan. Back into the bailbondswoman who took everything upon herself. And when you're not her you're a selfless princess, at least seemingly prepared to sacrifice all for your kingdom. You need to find a balance, find the person who you've become now. And you need to go find your True Love." Emma was nodding so hard she almost didn't stop when Regina called Killian her True Love. But he very well may be. And she wasn't going to stand by and do nothing while he was out there. I'm Emma Swan, damnit! And it's time I get back to acting like it. She'd never be a "perfect" princess, just like she'd never be the person she was before, and she didn't want to be either. She would, however, be Emma Swan, the princess, and Emma Swan, street savvy bailbondsperson. Emma came first. She leapt off of her bed and ran over to her wardrobe to fling it open. Regina stood and looked over her shoulder.

"What're doing?" she asked.

"Taking some advice," Emma answered as she whirled around and threw some clothes she'd be putting on onto the bed. Regina nodded, and turned to leave. Before she closed the door behind her, Emma called her name and she stopped. Regina turned slightly to look at Emma, and Emma nodded with a sincere smile. "Thank you." Regina nodded with a soft smile of her own and left the room, the closing softly behind her.

"I'm coming Killian," Emma murmured, looking out one of her windows and to the sea. "It's an emergency."

So I've decided to do the Frozen-ish type AU thingamawallop! But the first chapter won't be out for a bit. I think I'm calling it "Embers in a Blizzard". Thanks for all the support, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!