Emma.
Pieces of shell and driftwood crunched underfoot as Emma made her way across the windy beach. The waves crashed together, choppy and unfriendly and bitterly cold. It didn't matter, Emma had no intention of going swimming. In fact, she was too preoccupied with the broken record of memories swirling around her mind to pay mind to anything on the beach. That is, until she saw the body.
Her heart stopped beating for a moment when she first caught sight of a pair of legs poking out from behind a stack of large driftwood logs. As she drew closer, her eyes fell on the charred sticks, resting in a shallow hollow in the sand sand-a crude fire pit. The legs turned out to belong to a young woman, a teenager really, sprawled out partially on a log, her legs in the sand. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. Emma exhaled. Eyes shut, lips slightly parted, and a tangled rats nest of dark hair blowing in the breeze, the teenager appeared to be fast asleep. Emma noted her wrinkled clothing, a fine layer of sand hidden in every crease and fold. She must have been there since sometime last night.
Emma hesitated. There was a part of her that was demanding she wake her, that the young woman was in danger, alone and defenceless. But that came from her years as a scrappy street kid in a big city. This teenager wasn't that. A little dirty from a night on the beach, but she wasn't even close to the level of unkempt that came from homelessness. She had a home somewhere. Emma glanced down the beach, but there was not a soul around. It was just them. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Emma looked to the teen, who was now propped up on her elbows and staring at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Good morning," the teen said, in a hoarse whisper. She grimaced, slowly bringing herself up to a sitting position.
Emma tried not to wince at the sound of her joints popping as she moved. "Morning," she said, awkwardly. Would it make it better or worse to explain why she was standing there? No, it wouldn't matter either way. The teen had just woken up to a stranger standing a few feet away and no one else around. That was creepy no matter which way you spun it.
The teen raised her eyebrows pointedly. "I feel like I just became the main character in a lousy horror movie," she drawled, sweeping a hand through her dark hair. It did nothing to tame the tangled, frizzy mess. "How long have you been standing there?"
"A couple minutes," Emma admitted. "I didn't know whether I should wake you."
The teen said nothing, eyeing her cautiously. For a moment, the only sound was the repeated crashing of waves on the beach. It did nothing to ease the awkward silence that had settled between the two women.
"There was no one around. It seemed crappy to leave you like that, dead to the world on a beach," Emma explained. She shifted her weight between her feet, deeply regretting stopping her walk at all. And now, there was no way to leave that didn't make her look like a predator of some kind. She groaned internally. Damn it, Emma had felt unbalanced since the moment Henry had knocked on her door and now she couldn't even go for a walk on the beach without it turning into a weird situation.
"There's never anyone around. That's why I come here," said the teen. She yawned, stiffly rising to her feet. Standing up, she was nearly as tall as Emma, though the softness of her face betrayed her youth. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Is it that obvious?" Emma asked, uncertainly. Maybe it was just a small-town thing, but every person she'd spoken to thus far had acted as if she had the word "outsider" stamped on her forehead. It made her long for the comfortable anonymity of living in the city.
The teen looked at her, mild amusement colouring her tone. "The comings and goings of Storybrooke could fairly described as dismal, if you know what I mean. Everyone knows everyone, and I can't remember the last time we had a visitor."
Some of the tension started to drain from Emma's shoulders. Normal conversation, she could handle that. The teen wasn't running away and screaming, so perhaps Emma could finally get some answers to her burning questions that had begun to build the moment she drove into town.
"Really? I thought the scenery at least would bring some tourists around," Emma commented, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The wind had picked up in the past few minutes and it bit through her clothing as if it were paper. "Aren't you cold?"
The teen shrugged. Clad in jean shorts and a t-shirt, she had only a light hoodie as defence against the cold. "Not really. I did sleep out here," she pointed out. "And I'm about to head back. What time is it, by the way?"
Emma glanced at her watch. "Almost nine."
"Thanks." The teen stepped past her and started down the beach. After a second, she glanced back over her shoulder. "Coming?"
"Er... yeah." Emma hastily moved forward, falling into step beside the teen. "I didn't catch your name, kid."
"Erin James," the teen-Erin said, sticking out a hand, resulting in her doing an awkward half-sidestep to face Emma and maintain her pace. A playful grin broke across her face. "And yours?"
Emma bit back a snort of laughter at the odd gait. "Emma Swan," she said, shaking hands with her.
"Oh," Erin commented. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a horrified look overtook her features. "Oh shit!" she breathed, eyes going wide. She suddenly began to walk faster. "Please tell me that he didn't... I'm going to kill that kid."
"I'm sorry?"
Erin's hands flew up to rake through her hair and she let out a half-sigh, half-shriek. "Please tell me that you just suddenly fancied a road trip, and that a little rugrat named Henry had nothing to do with it."
Emma tensed. "You know Henry?"
"Yes..." groaned Erin. "Did he just show up at your house or what?"
"Yeah..." Emma said, haltingly. "How did you...?"
"I'm his babysitter," she explained through gritted teeth. "He told me he found you the other day, but he promised me that we could wait until his mom was out of the house and then I'd help him call you. I didn't think he would go all the way to bloody Boston! Regina's going to fucking kill me!"
"Why?" Emma asked, though she suspected that she already knew the answer.
Erin shot her a flat stare. "Because I was supposed to be watching him and that little brat outplayed me."
Emma didn't know whether to laugh or wince. She'd had her own taste of the kid's manipulation tactics when he'd forcefully persuaded her to come to Storybrooke in the first place. "He's a clever kid."
"Yes, I know," grimaced Erin. "He doesn't get that from Regina."
"No?" Emma said, in amusement. She'd barely had the chance to get the measure of her earlier, with their interaction being as brief and unpleasant as it was. Honestly, she was curious as to how the mayor was perceived by other people who were not, well... the biological mother of her son.
"Regina's intelligent, but she's not subtle. I don't think she's ever met a situation where she couldn't just push her way to success, other than Henry himself," Erin said, dryly.
Emma frowned. "What do you mean?"
Erin pursed her lips. "That's not an answer I'm willing to give you just yet," she said, after a moment. She offered a polite smile, but her eyes were a swirl of unreadable emotion. She opened her mouth to say more, only to decide the better of it, clamping her jaw shut and fixing her eyes ahead.
The pair fell into uncomfortable silence once more. By then, the wind had died down some and the only noise was from the waves lapping at the shoreline and their soft footsteps in the sand. Emma glanced at Erin out of the corner of her eye. Hands in her pockets, she walked with her shoulders slouched and her long hair had fallen forwards, creating a thick curtain that blocked her face. The young woman was difficult to read, what with her ever-changing mood and the peculiarity of the situation in which they'd met. Emma was abruptly reminded of the question she'd been meaning to ask.
"Hey, kid?"
Erin didn't look at her. "Yeah?"
"Why were you sleeping on the beach?"
"Um... stargazing," Erin said, blandly.
Emma didn't need her "superpower" to be able to see through the blatant lie. "Stargazing," she repeated, incredulously.
"Mhm," she said, her tone perfectly solemn, but her lips twitching in barely contained amusement."I just love... constellations. Big Dipper. Little Dipper. Orpheus' Belt."
Emma snorted. "That's... Look me in the eye and tell me you were out on the beach stargazing last night."
Erin stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, dramatically, she turned to face Emma, meeting her eyes a burning intensity. "Stargazing is my passion. I live to study the galaxy beyond our home planet," she insisted. "Every night I can spend watching the stars is a gift."
She spoke the words with such utter confidence. Emma might have even believed her, if it weren't for the fact that Erin's entire body had started shaking with poorly contained laughter.
Emma shook her head, exasperated. "Alright. Sure, kid."
Erin shot her a cheeky grin in response.
The two resumed their previous pace. The town came into view after less than a minute of walking, and unlike when Emma left, there were people on the streets, heading to work or school or wherever else the day would take them.
"Where are you staying in town?" Erin said, suddenly. "I forgot to ask."
Emma hesitated. "Nowhere, yet." She wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal to the teen that she wasn't planning on lingering.
"Granny's is the best-well, the only-bed and breakfast in town." Emma caught a hint of forced casuality in Erin's tone.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Erin glanced up the street, then back at Emma. "I have to go. But I'll see you around," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Bye, kid," said Emma. She made no promises, and Erin's eyes narrowed a little. But she didn't say anything more, just nodded and walked off, turning on the nearest street corner.
If you've read this far, thank you. It means a lot that people are willing to read my work. I have no idea what the interest level is going to be like for this fic, so if you'd like further installments, please leave a review and let me know. Assuming I continue with it, the future chapters will likely be a mix of different POV's, including but not limited to Emma's, Erin's, Regina's, and eventually Peter's. Slow-burn.
Cheers,
Snap.