As I said in the previous chapter. I didn't go with the show's version of rescuing Anna. But I didn't want to dwell on it either. So here you go.
Emma glanced into the rearview mirror of the squad car, seeing Elsa excitedly embracing her sister. Both Anna and Kristoff are talking at once, excitedly spitting out broken sentences that the other finishes or interrupts. While Emma is confused and unsure of the context and references, Elsa nods along and even asks probing questions. It is amusing, Emma thought, and a true definition of family when Elsa refuses to allow Anna the chance to apologize because everything is already forgotten and forgiven.
Anna and Kristoff were both confused by the new world they found themselves in, but they quickly embraced David at the station. David seemed to know how to take in the fast-paced speech of Elsa's sister with a laugh and a short answer before she is at it again. Elsa just stared proudly and clutched her sister's arm, afraid to let her go after all that time apart.
"For being recently thawed out you guys look remarkable," David said, calling his wife to bring supplies to the station.
Anna smiled at the statement, continuing her questions and comments about how warm the station is without any sign of a fireplace. Her confusion grew as Emma attempted to explain the idea of central heat which led to discussions of electricity, lights, and other technology that was of course overwhelming. David intervened to discuss housing arrangements, explaining that there was no known portal to return the royal family back home.
"We're stuck here?" Anna asked, pausing for an answer for the first time in an hour. "No way home?"
Elsa gripped her sister's arm tighter. "Not yet," she explained softly. "But I promise it isn't that horrible. The people here are very nice and the accommodations are convenient and luxurious in their own way."
Slipping out of the room as the conversation turned to modes of transportation, Emma made a phone call to Killian from the hallway. While he wasn't always keen on technological devices, she was happy that he answered on the second ring and did not seem surprised that it was her voice greeting him.
"Your picture pops up when you call," he reminded her. "Whom else should I expect it to be?"
"That used to confuse you," she reminded him with a hint of pride in her voice. She told him briefly of their adventure and find, approaching the subject of his health and ability to come out with them for a group dinner. He jumped at the chance, declaring himself bored and ready for a change of scenery.
"You're letting me out for the evening?" he asked.
"I'll loosen the knots a little," she laughed.
***AAA***
Anna, Emma had decided, was tiring. She never seemed to lack for energy, questions, comments, and hugs. As someone who rarely accepted physical affection, Emma made a conscious effort to avoid the woman who hugged her when she tasted her dinner, hugged her when she heard the music from the juke box, and hugged her yet again when Emma mentioned that Elsa lived with her. Even Killian had not been immune, as he was hugged for explaining how the diner worked, introducing her to Granny and Ruby, and again when she found out that he too lived at the apartment.
"She's really perky," Henry had said, plopping down next to his mother. "There are cheerleaders with less pep." The young boy swiped a few fries of his mother's plate, kissed her cheek, and rushed over to join his grandfather to listen to stories from Anna and Kristoff.
"She's just so excited about everything," Mary Margaret said, taking a sip of water. "But she is very different than Elsa."
"Hard to picture them as sisters," Emma admitted. She shot a smile over at her brother sleeping in his carrier and wondered just how different they would be as siblings. Sure the age thing was a big difference, as was the fact that he was being raised by his parents instead of the revolving door of foster parents. But would they have any commonality or bond? She tried to picture herself talking to him, sharing things, playing games, but it seemed a bit too much for her imagination. "You sure you're okay having them stay with you?" she asked her mother.
"I don't think I could possibly separate David from them now," she laughed, looking over at her husband who was more animated than ever as he swapped stories with his former friends. "It'll just be for a few nights. We'll figure out what to do."
Emma nodded. "I guess you're used to crowded conditions by now," she commented. "Good thing you don't have your daughter and grandson crashing there anymore."
Mary Margaret turned her attention back to Emma. "You know that I would have loved for you to have stayed," she said. "You didn't have to move out. We would have made it work."
"I know," Emma said. "But it was crowded and I…"
"And you wanted to live with Killian?" Mary Margaret finished, eyes sparkling. "Oh come on. You moved out pretty fast when things started to get serious."
"He's not the reason," Emma said. "I'm an adult and needed to live like one."
Mary Margaret gave her daughter a knowing smile and nodded to where Killian was currently engrossed in a conversation with one of the former members of his crew. "It's okay to admit that it was a motivation," her mother said. "I'm actually proud of you."
"For what?"
The brunette bit her lip and sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Is it really that hard for you?" she asked, drawing a blank stare from her daughter. "You're so different from the person I first met when you came to Storybrooke. Back then you were all bravado and a take charge kind of person. You may have felt hurt or confused about Henry and how Regina was treating you, but you rarely showed it. It was inspiring and a bit frightening at the same time. And then as time went on and you broke the curse, you began to open up more and more. Sometimes it was just to tell me to back off. But you let us know that you were hurting or that you were excited or that you missed Henry. And now you're…"
Emma stifled a nervous laugh. "And now what?"
"You're even more open than ever," Mary Margaret continued. "You used to be so closed off about how you felt about anyone but Henry. But now you're in love and people know it."
Rolling her eyes, Emma laughed shortly. "I'm not sure that I'm all that comfortable with people knowing my business, but this is a small town. It is hard to be in a relationship without everyone jumping in and making comments."
Mary Margaret laughed too. "I get that you're private about things," she said. "It's not a bad thing to be that way. I just wanted to say that I think it is great that you're coming out of your hiding spot a little. You're letting us see the real you. And the real you is pretty great."
"And you got all that from me asking my boyfriend to move in with me?"
Mary Margaret took another sip of water and twisted the glass in her hands. "No," she said. "Not exactly. But it is an example of how far you've come. The old you would have been scared to do that. And I know that you still have that inside of you. But you've come pretty far. You pushed that feeling aside and let him in.
Taking another sip, she looked down at her hands. "You're doing the same with your family. David and I hoped that when we got to see you again after 28 years that you'd understand why we had to send you away. We hoped that you would forgive us. It hasn't been an easy thing for you. I wish I could have changed that. I wish I could have been with you to protect you and to love you. I wish you hadn't had to go to foster homes. I wish you could have known that you were wanted and loved."
"I know," Emma said softly. "I know that you both did what you knew was right."
"That doesn't make it easier," Mary Margaret said. "You grew up thinking that your parents abandoned you. You never knew how anyone could love you as much as we did and still do. And maybe I was wrong. Maybe I pushed too hard to have this instant family bond with you. It was too much too fast. But maybe now I have a little more hope that you do understand or are beginning to understand that we do love you."
Emma closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the baby blanket that sat in a box in the bottom drawer of her dresser. She used to look at it as a child and feel anger for parents who had deserted her. But there was also a part of her that wondered where it had come from. Parents who planned to abandon a baby rarely have the child's name embroidered on a blanket. Despite herself, she had focused on that hope more than a few times growing up. "I do understand," Emma said. "I do love you and my father. That's the easy part sometimes. I'm not that emotionally stunted that I can't love. It's the accepting that you or anyone can love me in return. I never really learned to accept myself that way. But I'm trying."
***AAA***
Emma threw the jacket that Henry had dropped on the living room floor at the wall and sighed. Living at her parents had been difficult, but Mary Margaret had a knack for keeping the place clean and tidy. They had to because of the small space. Emma had not inherited that trait. Killian was remarkably organized, but she and Henry tended to lose everything and clutter followed them, leaving a trail in their wake.
"We'll clean up in the morning, love," Killian said, folding the throw blanket in his hands over the back of the couch. "You look like you could use some sleep."
She kicked a leaning stack of Henry's video games with her foot to prove her point. "This place is always a mess," she said. "And it is a freaking ice box in here. Elsa might not mind the cold, but we have heat and a fireplace. Can we please sleep in an apartment that is more than 55 degrees at night?"
Killian followed behind her, watching her flip through the mail on the kitchen counter and mutter about bills. Her attention jetted from subject to subject without much consideration. He didn't correct her when she complained that he or Henry had finished the last of the pie that she had bought at the school bake sale the day before, though he had seen her sneaking a piece with Elsa.
"Sleep?" he asked again, a bit helplessly.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm in a bad mood."
"I can tell," he said, lifting her chin with his hand and making her meet his gaze. "What is wrong that has you this testy?"
She frowned, trying to pull her face from his. "I'm mad, but I feel like I shouldn't let myself be mad," she said. "I feel like I should be happy and grateful that you're better, that Elsa's found her sister, that my parents are finally getting some sleep because the baby's sleeping the night now, that Henry is having so much fun with Robin and Regina that he asked about spending next weekend with them even though he's typically here." She stopped. "It feels like I should be so grateful and happy that I shouldn't have time or energy to let little things bother me."
His hand still supported her chin and his other arm wound about her waist. "If it is enough to have you throwing things, it is worth talking about," he suggested. "You don't have to be grateful and happy all the time. If you were, I'm not sure I'd recognize you."
"You're a good guy, Killian," she said to him. "I'm sorry I haven't always seen that."
"I'm not sure that your prior assessments of me were off the mark," he said with a little shrug. "You're perceptive enough to know that I've lived life as a pirate, which has meant I've been a thief and an opportunist."
She placed both her hands on his chest as though she wanted to push him away, but instead, her palms traveled across the planes. "And what are you now?" she asked. "I was an orphan, a foster child, a thief, a…"
"I don't know that I have a label now," he admitted. "I can't call myself a captain without a ship. A pirate either for that matter. Yet I don't want those things to define me here. The truth is that those labels are for other people to use. It makes it easier for other people to judge your character if they have a label to put on it. Much less thinking."
"Labels let us hide behind them," she said. "I can tell people that I'm a sheriff or that I'm a mom to Henry, but it doesn't tell people who I really am."
His lips touched the tip of her nose, making her smile at the cute way he could always bring her down. He was right. The labels that others threw at him did not match the man he was inside. "You can wear any label you wish, Emma," he said. "You're a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, the sheriff, a Savior, a Lost Girl, a perplexing mess, a beautiful woman, a strong fighter, and a talented vixen, but none of those alone make you Emma Swan."
"Then what does?" she asked softly. "What makes me Emma and what makes you Killian?"
He chuckled at her earnestness. "I don't know that I could list all the things," he said. "But I love finding out what makes you Emma."
"I have a long list about you," she playfully disclosed. "Maybe I should share it with you sometime." Her hands clutched his shirt, pulling him closer to her to allow her to kiss him. Lips caressed and tongues dueled for a moment before she pulled back, smiling as he instinctively tried to follow her with his mouth. "Maybe we should continue this," she said softly, tilting her head toward the bedroom door. He did not hesitate.
Thanks again for the feedback and reviews. It motivates me to keep going with this.