Emma lifts the tankard of ale and makes her way across the crowded tavern. She glances around as she walks, nodding to a few of the regulars and eyeing their glasses to see if any of them are in need of a fresh drink. Finding no one in immediate need, she sets the ale down in front of the officers and heads to the table in the back.

Perching herself on it, she looks at her old friend and asks, "So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"What? I can't just drop in to say hello?"

"I'm not stupid, Graham," she says with a roll of her eyes. "Do you think I haven't noticed how on edge everyone is lately? How everyone seems to be in here so often? Now, you show up after months of being away and I'm not supposed to be suspicious?"

"Lower your voice, Emma. Even if there was something going on, and I'm not saying there is, you know we can't talk about it here."

Graham's eyes dart over to the bar where Emma is sure Leroy is watching and she huffs out a breath of frustration. She knows there's something going on. Leroy has been uneasy for weeks, jumping at every sound, his pickaxe always within reach.

"You know that lying to me is pointless. I will find out what's going on."

"I wish you'd never acquired that skill. Look, we'll talk about this later, I promise," he says, eyeing Leroy as he speaks, "But we can't right now."

"Really? You'll really tell me what's going on?" she asks in surprise.

He glances to Leroy again. "I will, I promise. Later. But right now, I've brought you a gift." He nudges the package on the table toward her.

She gives him a suspicious look. "You think a gift will distract me from my questions but it won't."

"It's not a distraction. But if you don't want it…"

"I didn't say that," she says quickly, grabbing at the package and ripping it open without ceremony.

She gives the huntsman a curious look as she pulls out the dark green hooded cloak.

"To replace the one I ripped," he says in way of explanation.

She chuckles lightly, removing the cloak to inspect it. "It wasn't that bad, I mended it. And it wasn't really your fault. It was my own clumsiness that caused it. But since it was you who insisted I practice my swordplay while wearing it, I'm happy to let you take the blame."

Wrapping the new cloak around her shoulders, she does a quick spin, modeling it for him. The color is not what she would have chosen, but this is Graham, dark green is his signature, the man who has always been more at home in the forest than anywhere else.

"The color looks good on you."

She smiles. "You would think the color looks good on a turnip."

He chuckles tightly and lowers his head, stiffening.

Confused by his reaction, her brow wrinkles. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, "just… I hope you like it."

"I do. Thank you, Graham."

He nods and starts to stand up. "I should go."

"Go? Now? But I thought you were going to tell me –"

"I'll be back later," he cuts her off. "Right now I have some… things that need to be taken care of."

The unease is back immediately as she glances over to Leroy and back. "You'll be back? You promise?"

"I promise. And when I do return, all will be revealed."

She senses there's something else, something that he's reluctant to say but he's gone before she can form the question.

She heads back to the bar, giving Leroy a stern look as she approaches him. The dwarf doesn't say anything to her and that, in and of itself, is enough to make Emma even more suspicious. The man loves to hear himself talk and the fact that he's keeping his mouth shut lately is what got her wondering in the first place.

But she knows Graham is right, they can't talk about it here, anyway. So she gets back to work and does her best to push the uneasy feeling in her gut down as she delivers drinks and clears tables.

The Gold Mine (Sneezy came up with the name) is busy tonight, so it's easy to forget her worries and enjoy interacting with the customers as the hours fly by in the flurry of activity and laughter.

She loves working here, the fast pace and rolling laughter from the patrons. In fact, this is the one thing she has now that gives her refuge. She knows Leroy and Graham still don't understand why she had insisted they buy the place and run it but in the end she had convinced them by pointing out that no one would think to look for a princess in the little tavern of this tiny portside village. It was the perfect cover.

But that wasn't why Emma had wanted to buy it.

Male laughter rings out across the room and she looks over her shoulder to the naval uniforms at a nearby table. That's why, she thinks to herself, smiling softly. There's something soothing in their presence. It's not the same. It will never be the same, but sometimes when she listens to their stories, she can almost hear the voice of another sailor, an echo of that lilting accent when they tell a story similar to one she heard from him.

Ruby likes to tease her about it, the way she always insists on serving the naval officers. She's always asking her if there is one that stands out above the rest. What about that one with the curly hair? He's handsome and sweet and he's been watching you all night.

Emma doesn't have the heart to tell her it's useless, she knows her friend is just trying to help. They all are, the dwarves and Granny and even Graham. They want her to be happy, to find someone she could come to care for, maybe find a happy ending. But Emma also knows there is no one in the realm that will ever catch her eye again. She knows that no one could ever compare to –

She's pulled from her thoughts when the doors swing open with a loud bang that has her and most of the other people in the pub turning to see who is coming in. She sees Sleepy subtly finger the dagger he keeps hidden at his waist while Leroy takes a step closer to his axe behind the bar.

The room is silent and tense for a moment as Emma surveys the new arrivals. Her back stiffens and she stands up a little straighter as the men make their way to a table, plopping down with a flair.

Pirates.

They're not a regular sight in The Gold Mine, but it is a port town so, occasionally, a group will come in. They are, in Emma's opinion, the only drawback to working here, them with their leering looks and toothless grins. They're loud and unruly and most of the time they smell like the bottom of a bottle. They are the lowest form of human life, they have no loyalty, no honor, and their hands tended to wander.

Usually Emma is spared from waiting on them. There are several other women who work at the pub who don't mind their forward ways and gaudy attitudes. They see them as a way of earning some extra gold – no matter what they have to do to earn it.

She still remembers the first time Gwen had led one out the door, their intent obvious, and the way Leroy had eyed her from across the room with pink cheeks to see her reaction.

She'd found it amusing, even endearing, that Leroy had been so worried. They all regard her as some sort of innocent child at times, like a princess would never know about such things. But, honestly, she hadn't been offended by the idea at all. She knew Gwen had two boys at home, their father dead, and if she wanted to make some extra money, who was Emma to judge? And the other girls as well, as long as all the parties agreed. She wasn't naive. She knew this kind of thing was common in taverns, she'd known it before she'd insisted they run this one.

Emma watches as Gwen makes her way toward the newest patrons, two flagons of ale and a bottle of rum in her hands that the pirates had demanded in a shout as soon as they'd set down.

Turning away from the sight, Emma finds Graham standing behind her. In fact, he's so close that she nearly spills the drink she's carrying all over him.

"You startled me," she says.

Graham doesn't respond at first, his eyes on the pirates.

"We need to leave," he says in a hushed tone.

"Why?" Emma asks. "Because of the pirates? It's not a big deal, Graham. Gwen will take care of them."

Graham's eye dart over to Leroy.

"Do you want to hear the truth or not?" he asks.

The urgency in his voice surprises her, the note of demand that he adds to the question, and she follows his gaze to Leroy who is currently distracted behind the bar.

"Yes," she responds in a low voice.

Then he's taking her hand and quickly leading her toward the back exit. They get as far as the door that leads to the kitchen before Leroy's voice rings out.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Graham turns on him, "Don't try to stop me, Leroy. We both know I can take you."

"Emma – " Ruby appears behind Leroy even as the kitchen door swings open to reveal Granny brandishing a frying pan.

"And what about me, Huntsman? Are you planning to take me on as well?" the older woman asks.

Graham looks to all of them in turn, exasperation clear on his face. Without a word, he pushes past Granny and leads everyone into the kitchen, silently beckoning all of them to follow.

As soon as the door falls closed behind Ruby, Emma turns on all of her friends.

"What is going on?" she demands.

Everyone is silent, all eyes focused not on her but on Leroy and Graham who are having a staring contest, the animosity clear in their stances. Neither move for quite some time and it becomes obvious by the way they're looking at each other that they are not in agreement about telling her whatever it is that Graham wants to tell her.

She waits several more beats before she asks again. "What is going on?"

Ruby appears at her elbow. "We're just trying to keep you safe," she says.

"I know that," Emma replies, doing her best to keep her voice low even though she wants to yell, "but something is going on, something that has all of you on edge. You've been keeping it from me for years, I know you have, but something has happened recently that –"

"Nothing has happened." This from Granny.

"Then why? Why is everyone acting like this?"

They all fall back into silence, none of them willing to meet her eyes, and it hits her, what they're doing. They're trying to think of something to say that isn't a lie. They've all done it before when she started to ask too many questions. They know they can't lie to her, so they figure out a way to give her a vague answer without actually lying.

"Your twenty-eighth birthday is coming up." Leroy finally speaks as his stance relaxes the slightest bit.

"What does my age have to do with anything? And my birthday is months from now."

She waits again through the silence as the four of them look to each other and she notices that even Dopey who had been washing dishes has stopped to watch the scene.

Graham is still staring hard at Leroy, but he's not looking as murderous as he had been a moment ago. Without looking away from Leroy, he speaks. "I'll tell you what you want to know but, like I said earlier, we can't do it here. Come with me back to the cottage right now and we'll talk."

Leroy looks like he wants to protest and Granny stiffens beside her but it's Dopey's reaction that surprises her the most. He actually takes a step toward Graham wielding a dirty spoon like a club, giving Graham a look that can only be described as angry. She's never seen Dopey angry before.

"We can't keep it from her forever," Graham reasons as his eyes shoot to Dopey. Then he glances at each of the others as he continues, "and we can't expect her to follow our lead blindly. She needs to know. I understood not telling her before now, but time is running out. This plan didn't work."

"What plan?" Emma asks.

No one answers her. Not that she really expects them to. But the hostility in the room deflates instantly at Graham's words, an almost audible sigh of defeat releasing into the air. Apparently, Graham has made his point and they agree with him – even if their agreement is reluctant.

Graham's eyes come back to hers after he receives a nod from each of them in turn.

"If you agree to leave with me right now, I'll explain everything."

"Why don't we wait until we're all back at home?" Ruby asks. "So we can all tell her together –"

"No," Graham cuts her off. "I'll tell her."

"And I don't want to wait," Emma adds as she sees the protest in Granny's eyes as well. Now that they've finally admitted that something is going on, she doesn't want to give any of them time to reconsider.

"Fine," Leroy says, but she can tell he's not fond of the idea.

Emma doesn't hesitate, reaching for the cloak Graham had given her earlier, "Let's go."

Graham sets a quick pace through the town and she's practically scurrying to keep up. He doesn't say anything as they make their way into the forest – not that it surprises her – Graham isn't the most talkative man on a good day, he's always preferred animals to people, and usually that's a balm for Emma. Tonight, though, she's too impatient to find comfort in the silence.

As soon as they are out of sight of the village, he makes sharp turn, heading south toward the sea.

"We're not going to the cabin?" she asks.

"No, I've got a better place."

He doesn't offer any other explanation, he just presses on, and Emma doesn't ask. There's something about his gait that tells her he has a plan and she doesn't want to waste time plying him with questions… yet.

They continue at fast pace for another several minutes, heading deeper and deeper into the woods. Finally, Graham breaks the silence. "Tell me, Emma, when did you realize that you could separate truth from lies?"

The question surprises her and her back stiffens.

"You're the one who is supposed to be answering questions right now, not me," she evades.

"Indulge me," he requests.

Emma keeps moving, her eyes focused on the ground but the path in front of her blurs as the memory assaults her.

.

When she enters the room, the first thing she sees is Aurora whispering something in his ear. They break apart immediately when they see her and Aurora hastily retreats into the crowd.

Trying to ignore the overwhelming wave of jealousy, she walks over to his side. "What were the two of you whispering about?" she asks.

"She was just confiding in me that she's hoping for a dance request from Prince Phillip this evening."

Something shimmers in her spine at the words, making her feel uneasy. And his voice… It doesn't sound right, like he's talking through a curtain, not really muffled so much as reverberating in her ears.

LIE.

She doesn't know how she knows it but she does. He's lying to her.

She doesn't confront him about it, she can't without him hearing the jealousy that is sure to be in her voice. So she keeps her mouth shut and lets him lead her to the dance floor.

She watches him as the night goes on but he never approaches Aurora again. It isn't until the ball is nearly over and she's dancing with Liam that she sees him sneak away toward the garden.

Her eyes immediately scan the rest of the crowd, searching for Aurora. She finds her only moments later standing next to Phillip with a glowing smile on her face. Confusion wars with jealousy as the dance continues but Aurora never leaves Phillip's side.

He reappears as the ball draws to a close and offers her his arm to walk her to her room. She draws a breath of relief and finally shakes off the unease she's felt all night, chalking her earlier reaction up to an over-active imagination.

As they approach her room she notices the bouquet of flowers sitting at the foot of her door.

Buttercups. Her favorite.

She picks up the flowers and turns to him with a smile. "How did you know?"

"I asked Aurora."

"Is that what you two were really whispering about?"

He blushes and scratches behind his ear. "Aye," he admits.

He fidgets in front of her, his eyes darting to hers and away again and she is suddenly hit by three things at once.

One, she'd been right, he'd lied to her. But this realization pales in comparison to her other revelations so she simply files that away for later consideration.

Two, she is utterly and completely in love with him.

And three, it's high time she acted on her feelings.

Not stopping to consider propriety or good form, she surges forward and presses her lips to his. She can tell she's taken him by surprise when she hears him gasp, but then his lips are pressing back as his hands cup her face. It only lasts a few seconds before he steps away, a flush high on his cheeks as he clears his throat.

"My apologies, your highness. I didn't –"

"Why are you apologizing when I'm the one who kissed you?"

He's flustered, she can tell, looking anywhere but her eyes and she reaches out a hand and settles it on his arm, running it down until their hands are linked.

"Thank you for the flowers, Lieutenant."

His eyes dart to hers as the flush creeps further across his features, all the way down his neck.

"You're very welcome, Princess."

There gazes hold for several heartbeats, both grinning shyly at the other before he bows to her and takes his leave.

She watches him go, her heart pounding her ears.

As first kisses go, she wouldn't have traded it for the world.

.

Tears sting her eyes at the memory that she hastily blinks away. Graham obviously notices her distress and takes her arm to stop her on the path and face her.

"Emma?" he asks with concern.

She sucks in a shaky breath and wills the tears not to fall, her throat closing painfully.

She can't. She can't say it. She hasn't spoken of him in years. She hasn't said his name since the day Graham had confirmed he was dead. Even now, as her mouth moves to form the word, she almost chokes on it.

She clenches her eyes shut as she breathes out his name. "Killian..."

Graham inhales sharply, a sound that almost doesn't make it to her ears as she does the same. She lifts the back of her hand to her mouth to cover the sob that escapes.

"He lied to me once," she whispers brokenly as the tears spill over, the effort to hold them back suddenly too much for her.

The next thing she knows, she's in Graham's arms, her head cradled into his chest as she lets go and the sobs wrack her body. "It was the only time he ever lied to me," she adds through the sobs, the words barely audible even to her.

Graham's arms constrict around her, his grip so tight it's almost painful, the tension in his muscles registering even through her misery as the emotional dam finally breaks.

She'd been holding it in for years. Years of swallowing the despair she felt, hiding it from her friends as best she could, trying to keep them safe and happy. There was nothing to be gained by wallowing in it anyway. So she'd pushed it aside and done her best to move on, trying not to burden the rest of them with it.

She'd seen the way they'd all looked at her the night Graham had shown up at the run-down inn they were hiding in at the time. She'd heard Granny and Ruby gasp when Graham told her.

She'd allowed herself to mourn that night – only the one night – because they were still being hunted. They were only a day or two ahead of those who would capture her and bring her before the Queen. And even that one night had cost August his life. If she'd had her wits about her, they wouldn't have taken the night of rest, they would have pressed on and maybe August would still be alive.

"I'm so sorry, Emma," Graham says, drawing her out of her thoughts, something tortured in his tone as he rocks her back and forth that makes her lift her head and look at him.

"It's not your fault, Graham. There was nothing you could have done."

He shakes his head as if in denial, his hands going to her shoulders to hold her in place in front of him. Her brow wrinkles in confusion when she sees how deeply he's breathing, like he's struggling for each intake of air.

Before she can ask what's wrong he releases her and walks further down the path with determined strides. She scurries after him, worried, as he stops at a hollow tree and turns to her.

"Emma… You have to go. You have to run. Now."

"What are you talking about?"

She watches as his hands clench at his sides, his breathing getting worse with each moment. "You have to… leave me here and go. There's a boat... I've already paid your passage… Find somewhere safe. Find…" He cuts off, clutching at his chest.

She reaches out and grabs his arm as his body sways. "Graham, what's the matter? You're talking madness. I'm not leaving you. You've always kept me safe."

"I haven't. You've never been safe. She's always known…" An almost inhuman sound bursts past his lips and he falls to his knees on the path. "You have to find him… I've tried… I've looked everywhere I can think of…"

"What are you talking about? Find who?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I had to lie. I thought you'd be able to tell. I thought you'd know I was lying but you didn't. I guess it's because she has my…" he groans and rocks back with his hand still on his chest.

She sinks down in front of him, foreboding filling her blood. "What does she have?"

He falls forward onto his hands. He's so far gone now that she's not sure he even hears her anymore. "So I looked for him myself. I couldn't risk telling you the truth. I couldn't risk telling anyone. She might have heard, she might be listening now, and if she found him before me…"

Emma reaches out and lifts his head, realization making her lungs squeeze. His eyes are dark, pain lancing through them with each word. "She has your heart?"

He takes a deep breath with an almost imperceptible nod. "They're coming for you, Emma. They'll be here… any… minute…"

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. They couldn't be. They didn't know where she was. But, of course they do. If Regina has Graham's heart, she's always known. Her body stiffens in fright as her eyes dart in every direction, expecting black knights to materialize from the trees.

There's a rustle of leaves from close by and Emma jumps to her feet.

"Take this," Graham grounds out, reaching into the hollow tree and producing a pack.

She takes it from him without thinking, her eyes still searching the trees as her heart pounds heavily in her ears. She starts to back away but Graham stops her.

"Emma, listen to me…" There's an earnestness in his voice that makes her pause even as he pulls his own sword and presses it into her hand. "Killian… is alive. You have to find him."

Emma can actually feel her eyes widen at the statement, the shock of it coursing through her as she searches Graham's tortured features. She doesn't have time to dwell on it, though, because the thunder of hoof beats draws her attention.

"GO!" Graham tells her.

She shakes her head, gripping at the handle of his sword, torn about leaving him behind, especially unarmed. Even if he'd been lying all this time, he's still one of her oldest friends and if the Queen has his heart –

"GO! NOW!"

The hoof beats are getting closer, and now she can even hear the shouts from the men. She doesn't waste any more time before she is tearing through the trees back toward the village.