The Wooden Swan Cuckoo Clock

By Schroederplayspiano

Eight-Fifteen pm: Back To Your Side

Ride-alongs and arrests in Emma's Sheriff car share many qualities. Emma's natural fragrance gives her guest a journey down a flowerbed of lilies rather than a reminder of the sticky, tight feeling one would have if they were to wear leather in a desert. Whenever I shared the front seat as Emma's guest, however, I never thought about how uncomfortable the plastic covering of the back seat would be. What I really didn't think about was the pain metal handcuffs would cause when between a person's back and the seat plastic, pressing into their skin…

"You know if you wanted some alone time with me, all you had to do was ask." I peek my head around Emma's headrest. "Arresting me for stealing – whatever that's code for - wasn't really necessary. Enjoyable. Dirty, even. But not necessary."

"You have a right to remain silent," Emma keeps her professional attitude as she talks to me in the mirror. "I suggest you use it."

For some reason, I do. Plenty of comebacks come to mind, but Emma's glaring expression – its source still a mystery to me – holds me back. The pain of handcuffs is nothing compared to my remorse at ruining our playful banter. We pass the police station and I'm surprised we don't stop.

"So, are we waiting for the metal handcuffs to completely tear up my skin or are you going to take me in eventually?"

"Depends…" Emma starts. I notice a slight smile in the rear-view mirror.

"On what?" I tease. She returns her focus to the road.

"On how good a boy Pinocchio decides to be tonight."

Piecing together more of her plans, I hint at my handcuffs, "Well, I'm a clearly at your disposal."

Emma shakes her head, amused. Our eyes lock in the mirror. Her expression softens in my gaze as I hold it. The "Welcome To Storybrooke" sign passes through the corner of my eye and I give it my full attention.

The sign ignites my banter again. "You do know you are not sheriff outside of town limits, right?"

"Doesn't mean I plan on taking your cuffs off anytime soon."

My breath catches, parting my lips. Emma witnesses my expression and smirks, satisfied, before focusing on the road again. She takes a familiar turn to the right and confirms our destination. The ring in my pocket digs into my thigh.

Like I didn't know where she was taking me.

The engine shuts off. I locate our tree, our special spot, out the window. Warmth fills my body, like it always does when I arrive here. It is the only place that connects us together. That tree is where our stories began – both together and apart.

Emma slams her door and walks around the car. Her heals click on the pavement. My stomach ties knots at the sound. It stops before she appears in the window, before she can let me out of my prison.

Something jolts the car forward. I realize it's the trunk opening before the wheels slide back into place. I try to turn around, to see whatever Emma is doing, but only hear her heals click twice more before they dig into the dirt.

She is carrying something to our tree! I crouch down to look lower in the window, searching for further clues, but all I see is a long box.

I straighten myself up when she makes it back to the car. Emma keeps her professionalism as she opens the door for me. It's hot. "On your feet."

I slide down the seat until my feet reach the cement and twist my hands in the handcuffs to stand. I turn to Emma behind the door and we both freeze. I loose myself in the depth of Emma's gaze for a moment too long. "Are we going to stand here forever or what?" I whisper.

She grabs my arm and her nails penetrate my skin. I gasp in aguish. She leads me down to our tree, replying, "Talking back to a police officer is not smart decision."

I smirk, "Well, I'm not known for making smart decisions, am I?"

Emma lightly throws me against our tree. I stumble but catch my balance before completely falling over. My hands, still pinned together, reach backwards to feel the bark behind me. "Okay, seriously, are the cuffs coming off or should I look forward to giving you grief for the deep cuts I'm bound to have?"

Still in the process of walking away from me, Emma sways her upper body from one side to the other. I watch Emma's curves sway as the hem of her shirt rises a few inches.

On second thought, being handcuffed against our tree isn't so bad after all.

Emma bites her lip when she turns back to me. It's cute. I've never seen her do that before. "I am not sure."

"Haven't planed that far ahead?" I take delight in teasing her.

She releases her lip. An offended look masks her features, but she quickly recovers. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I laugh. Any attempt I made to control or understand her intentions was a mistake. I lean back against our tree to show my submission but wince in pain. Putting any pressure on the metal handcuffs digs them further into my skin.

I look back at Emma and realize she was waiting for my attention. A blush quickly colors her cheeks as I met her gaze. She doesn't hold it. Instead of allowing us to lose ourselves in each other, she breaks our connection and steps forward to the box at her knees.

She opens the lid and reaches down to pull the object out, but soon stops. Emma crosses her arms. "I can't - " her face scrunches up and I'm afraid she might cry.

"Emma…"

Smoothing out her features, Emma puts on a sad smile through the tears behind her eyes. "I can't forgive you, August."

My chest tightens. I try to take a depth breath, but can't. "You shouldn't forgive me, Emma. What I did to you – the multiple things I did to you…they are unforgivable."

"No…" Emma stomps her foot in frustration. A tear runs down her cheek and she turns away. "That's not what I – You don't even know what I'm talking about."

I step towards her. With my hands around my back, I look like a polite little boy waiting for his turn to speak. We are able to connect for a moment before Emma tears away again. I whisper, "Since when are you afraid to call me out on my crap?"

Emma rolls her head back to me. Her arms cross to hold herself together. My heart swells for her. She matches my soft tone, "How could you loose faith in us?"

I blink. Shame fills me before I know what she's talking about. "Emma – I – I was messed up for a long time. This whole thing – whatever happened between us – it was all backwards. I should have figured out who I was before ever getting involved with -"

"No. Shut up!" Emma demands. Her edgy tone softens when she continues. "Just shut up, August. That wasn't the question."

I blink again. "Okay…."

"Us. This." She bends down to take the object out of its box. Our cuckoo clock appears; fixed, and polished, and beautiful. "How could you loose faith in it?"

Tears start falling down my cheeks. Without hands, I can't brush them away so they keep falling down. I don't know how to make them stop. "You fixed it…"

"Everything except the mechanics. Its parts still won't move. I need a professional to help me."

"Okay, well, I'm writer, but I'm sure I could help you fix it," I offer softly.

Emma falls apart at my offer. She lunges for me, wails marring her face. As soon as she reaches me, she starts pounding my chest. "How could – how could you – do that – destroy – my - clock – break – my – heart!"

I bow my head and turn into her. I hold against her shoulder and wait for her to calm down. Emma's movements soon mirror mine; her body presses against me.

We stay together for several minutes. She further leans into my chest, trying to catch her breath as she calms down. I soak up every part of Emma I can. The feeling is all I need. It's all I'll ever need.

"Reach in my pocket," I tell her.

Emma looks up at me. "What?"

"Just do it."

She waits for a minute; debating whether to listen to her heart or to her head. Emma looks at me with suspicion before her fingers find the ring box in my pocket. I swear I can feel Emma's heart stop when she puts the velvet box in her flat palm.

"I never lost faith in us," I whisper, my confidence growing. "I just got lost in my own insecurities and I'm sorry, Emma. Breaking your clock broke my heart just as much as yours, I promise you."

"You had this – in your pocket – before I arrested you."

"Emma," my voice cracks. "I've carried your ring in my pocket– ever since I called you into Granny's that night."

Emma freezes. Her focus stays on the box. "That was three months ago. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I needed to wait until you were ready."

"Well," Her limbs still frozen, Emma lifts her gaze to mine. "How unselfish of you."

Despite her lighter tone, I stay serious. "You always brought out the best in me."

Emma whispers, "August…" and looks back down at the ring box.

"I am so in love with you, Emma." I take a step closer to her, my heart rate increasing. She feels me next to her and redirects her attention. Her cheek brushes against mine. The heat from her blush warms my skin as her nose goes into crook of my own. I inhale before pouring my heart out. "I want to grow old with you and have babies with you and stand on the sidelines, watching you mature into the princess you are, saving the rest of the enchanted forest. I want that with you. I'm sure that's selfish on some level, but I think not telling you is selfish too -"

"It is selfish," A tear slides down her cheek. "And you had about a minute before I was going to kill you if something like that didn't come out of you mouth."

If it's possible, I lean further into her. My upper lips brushes against hers. I whisper into her mouth, "Emma…"

She stomps her foot. The earth's vibration puts space between us. Quickly, she blurts, "Why else would I take you to an abandon woods-"

I smirk. Emma is perhaps, the cutest when she is frustrated. If my hands were free, I would glide them up her cheeks and thread them through her hair.

Emma puts her free hand on my cheek while the other tightens around the ring box. She caresses my skin with her thumb before speaking. "I love you." She tells me. Her declaration releases whatever tension is left in my body. "And I need you with me, wherever I am." Emma's fingers slide into my hair. "But not on the sidelines watching me. With Me. I can't be the Princess I need to be – or want to be -without you. You taught me that and I –"

"Marry me." I can't hold it in any longer.

She releases me and steps back as if in shock. "What?"

I tilt my head to the side. I don't need to repeat my words.

Her rant follows my implication. "What the hell was that? You can't just say 'Marry me' – expecting me to just give into your demands. I am a royal princess, for goodness sake. Don't you think I deserve better than that? I only plan on doing this once, so don't you think your proposal should be accompanied by flowers and rainbows and you on one knee and some sort of magical -"

I step in between her two feet, invading her comfort zone and cutting her off. "Marry me." I demand again. She tilts her head and smiles. Emma will never admit it, but I know her well enough to know the proposal she just described would make her sick. "And let me out of these handcuffs so I can kiss you properly."

Emma ignores me and opens the ring box before I have a chance to do it for her. Her reaction is even better than I thought. Sliding the ring on her finger jumpstarts her whole body. Her eyes sparkle, her skin glows, her grin spreads across her face.

But the joyful picture of Emma is gone before I know it. She spreads out her arms and lunges for me again, this time with laughter. Her lips capture mine with a strength I've never felt before. Her hands are everywhere; my neck, my cheeks, my hair, my chest, before they intertwine in my own behind my back.

A familiar noise interrupts my focus on my future wife. I open my eyes briefly when our fingers lock to find its source.

It's there, in the middle of our special spot, still seated on a cardboard box. Reenergized by true love's kiss; a wooden swan comes out of Snow White's highest tower and honks to announce the top of the hour.

A/N: Somewhere in time, in the deep folds of space, a former puppet thinks he knows how lucky he is to have his princess beside him. But, really, it's his princess who is the lucky one.

This story, in its completion, would not exist without four people: Aod4L, SnowandJames4eva, Keli Macguire, and Anna kept this story going. When I felt discouraged or frustrated about starting or working on a chapter their demands for an update, their enthusiastic analysis of my writing (especially Anna - wow!) kept me going. Everyone's analytical reviews meant the world to me and help me become a better writer. Thank you for the thought you put into my story. Like I said before, WoodenSwan fans have the most the depth, the most attention to detail that I've seen. What an honor to be among you. Thank you, truly. Writing for WoodenSwan will be an experience I won't forget. Chapter titles come from Mat Kearney's Ships In The Night. I love you guys. xoxo.