Epilogue: Part 1
Emma Swan-Jones woke up on the morning of November 3 completely unconscious of the fact that it was, in fact, November 3.
For as many years as she could remember, this was a day she anticipated with dread, looking at the calendar in the days that preceded it with a mix of anxiety and sadness. She always knew with certainty that it would be a day of brooding and contemplation, as years of memories of feeling abandoned and unwanted would rise to the surface.
Her daughter's birth nearly four years ago had intensified the feelings of this day; shifting them away from Emma's own self-pity to that of tearful anger and disbelief that someone could do such a thing to any innocent child. How could you look at a child that had been living in your house, loving you, depending on you for nearly her whole life and decide that suddenly you just didn't want her?
She didn't really remember the incident, having just turned three when it happened, and she had never been shown a picture of her almost-adoptive parents. She had vague impressions, though, a fuzzy memory of a birthday cake in a kitchen with blue gingham curtains.
Before her daughter was born, Emma always had conjured a picture in her mind of the generic, faceless family giving her tiny blonde self back to a generic, faceless social worker. Since Hope was born, however, she no longer saw herself in the sad tableaux. Rather, she pictured her adored daughter, confused and crying, reaching back for her "mother" who had coldly turned away. Each time she imagined this scene, tears of disgusted rage would inevitably spring to Emma's eyes, and she would have to take deep breaths to avoid having a panic attack.
Layered underneath all of this, of course, was Emma's own guilt about giving up Henry on the day he was born. She knew that the circumstances were quite different, but in her darkest moments, she couldn't help but wonder if she was being a hypocrite in loathing her almost-family the way she did.
Indeed, she could barely bring herself to say that family's name out loud. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd done so in the course of her life. She'd given herself the last name "Swan" to avoid having to think of that real, almost-last name and to honor the story of The Ugly Duckling.
Killian knew the significance of November 3 and why it had such an impact on her mood. In the years since she'd been with him, she'd gradually opened up to him about her feelings on the dark anniversary. He'd been there to help calm her nerves and talk her down from her panic.
She had even told Killian the family's real name, last year on this date. The anniversary had hit her particularly hard last year, as Hope was approaching the age that Emma was when she was sent back into the system. Killian had sat up with her by the fire after Hope was asleep, and Emma had sipped rum and talked about it. She had cried, feeling stupid for being so emotional about something that happened 30 years ago.
He had comforted her and made her feel better, of course. As much as the memories (real and imagined) tortured her, with Killian she had a steadfast, devilishly handsome reminder that she and Hope were indeed wanted.
In fact, she believed that they were wanted and loved more than anything in the world.
But still, it was always a dark day for her.
This November 3, however, Emma awoke to blissful peace, unaware that there was any significance to the date on the calendar other than it was to be a typically busy Thursday in the Swan-Jones household.
She woke up to the sound of their bedroom door creaking open all the way, followed by tiny footsteps across the hardwood and rug to their bed. Emma kept her eyes closed and fought a smile as tiny hands gripped the duvet around her for purchase. She felt the warm little body climb over her as Killian lifted up his hand, which had been settled on Emma's waist, to allow Hope to wriggle in between them.
Emma gave up the act of feigning sleep and turned around to look at her daughter, who had burrowed in between her and Killian and was now facing Emma with a mischievous grin.
"Hi, Mom," she said.
"Hi, sweetie."
"Can we get up?"
Emma sighed. It felt early. "Didn't you just get comfortable?" she replied.
Killian had wrapped his right arm around both of them again, and she felt him chuckle in response.
"I want to get up, though! The sun is up!" Hope reasoned.
"I'll get up with you, little lass," Killian conceded. "We can start making breakfast for Mommy. Deal?"
"Deal!" Hope replied, sitting straight up between them and beginning to bounce up and down excitedly.
Emma rolled on her back, guiltily excited about the opportunity to snooze for five more minutes.
Killian leaned over Hope and kissed the side of Emma's forehead before climbing out of bed and picking up their little girl.
Emma sighed and rested for a few more minutes, wincing and then chuckling as she heard the clang of pots and pans from the kitchen downstairs. Once her brain had really woken up, it started ticking through her to do list for the day, and she decided it was time to get going and head to the shower.
She still did not remember that it was November 3.
Killian glanced at the clock in the kitchen as Hope "helped" him get the eggs out of the refrigerator. It was later than he'd realized, so he'd have to keep breakfast simple. Eggs and Canadian bacon sounded good. He kept his hand on the carton of eggs as his three-and-a-half year-old daughter carefully carried it over to the table where he'd set the bowl and whisk.
Hope always had grand plans of cracking the eggs on the edge of the bowl by herself, but once it came down to it, she was never willing to tap them quite hard enough to actually crack them. She settled for getting them started and then watching in wonder as Killian expertly cracked and opened each egg with his one hand. It was a skill he'd mastered long ago, but he appreciated it anew since it so impressed his little daughter.
Once he'd cracked the eggs, Hope took over with the whisk, kneeling on a kitchen chair and scrunching up her face adorably as she concentrated on her task.
He opened the package of bacon and began cooking it in a frying pan. He could hear the shower running, so he knew that Emma was up. Henry was there this morning, but it was still early for him. Sometimes, they had to roust him just minutes before it was time to leave for school, and Killian would cluck in mock disapproval as the boy scarfed down his breakfast while pulling on his jacket.
He wondered if Emma would mention what day it was. In the brief moments they'd spent awake together in their bed with Hope, he'd noticed her relaxed state and her easy smile. He suspected that she hadn't yet remembered that it was typically such a dark day for her.
Truthfully, he hoped that she had remembered and that her easy manner so far this morning was a sign that she was fully moving past it. Last year was bad. She had been reliving the feeling of being unwanted, being given back, but picturing their daughter in her stead. It had broken her heart, and all he could do was listen and hold her as she talked it out.
He ached for her whenever he thought about her past and the injustices she'd endured, but on that day last year, he felt the full depth of her hurt.
Nobody, especially not someone whose heart was as loving and generous as his Emma's was, deserved to have their life defined by people that were as unspeakably cruel as the people who had given her back.
He heard her footsteps on the stairs and immediately turned to look for her. Her freshly washed hair bounced around her arms and shoulders in soft waves, so similar to those of their daughter. She was dressed for work in dark skinny jeans and a cream cable knit sweater, and she wore thick wooly socks. He noticed the relaxed set of her shoulders and her easy smile as she arrived in the kitchen and saw Hope carefully beating the eggs. Everything about her expression and manner told him that she hadn't remembered the date.
Killian had been fascinated by Emma Swan from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, after she'd pulled him out from underneath a pile of corpses and immediately recognized that his scared blacksmith routine was a blatant lie.
She was a gorgeous, miraculous mess of contradictions.
He had known her to be the toughest, most world-weary cynic, but her real heart contained boundless love and true optimism. He had spent years studying this woman, and he believed that he would never tire of pondering her complexities and honing his own responses to her in his life's mission to be her perfect partner.
He greeted her and grinned at her as she went to help Hope with the eggs, but the wheels in his mind were turning about how best to approach the subject of today's anniversary, or whether to mention it at all. At the present moment, she looked blissfully happy, so he decided to leave it be.
Emma brought the bowl of egg mixture over to the stovetop, standing next to him and bumping his hip affectionately as she started the burner under the skillet.
"Good morning," she said to him, continuing to lean into his space as they stood side by side at their burners.
"Hello, love," he replied. He studied her relaxed and happy expression as she stirred the eggs and chatted with Hope. He felt his own heart lighten. Perhaps this would just be another day, another really good day.
Emma had grown up surrounded by chaos. Mostly, it was the chaos of group homes and shared rooms and kids that were sad and lonely but showed it through anger and bullying. Occasionally, during the worst times, it was the bedlam of the street. It was cars, sirens, cops, and strangers.
She'd grown to hate it. She hated the messes, the unpredictability, the damn noise. She had always wanted to just shut it all out. When she was nine, she was given a used walkman and a set of headphones, which she managed to hold onto for a few years. But it wasn't long before that was lost (stolen) at a particularly awful group home.
When she was seventeen, she was arrested for grand larceny and ended up in a whole different crowded, noisy, horrible place. There, even at night, there was no quiet or peace. The taunts of other inmates, the buzzing of gates, and the threats of guards never ceased. Even when it was technically quiet around her, the noise in her brain, the 'why?'s and the 'why me?'s and the shock and sickness of having a child inside her when she was still a child herself were never silent.
She tried not to think about that time.
After she got out of prison in Arizona, she did her stint in a halfway house. After that, when she managed to get a job and her own horrible dingy apartment, she loved the quiet. She didn't even mind, for a while, that she couldn't afford a TV. She would just sit with her terrible but perfect Cup O'Noodles that was just hers and enjoy the peace and the knowledge that nobody was going to bother her, nobody was going to come knocking on her door.
She relished the peace and quiet for years, until one day, in a much nicer apartment and on her twenty-eighth birthday, she realized that it was too quiet. She was alone. She was lonely.
And then, of course, someone did knock on her door.
After that, she found herself surrounded by a very confusing sort of chaos, until the pieces finally fell into place and she realized that she belonged to people, Snow White and Prince Charming to be precise. She lived with them and her son and her newborn brother (and for a little while, a human ice maker) and she figured out how to adjust to the chaos of being part of a family.
That was hard for her, harder than it should have been, she often thought in bouts of self-doubt. During those first months in Storybrooke, and after the year in New York, she suspected that there was something irreparably broken about her that would always cause her to want to flee from family entanglements.
She wondered if she just wasn't built for family relationships or for dealing with the unexpected events and tragedies. She figured that she would always try to raise her guard and escape to the peace and safety of solitude.
Happily though, thanks in no small part to the dashing pirate she would marry, she figured out her place, and she accepted her family.
But accepting her role as a mother, and then learning to be a daughter and a sister had been only the first steps. Believing that she could be loved, be in love, and be someone's partner for the rest of her life was something else. Understanding that she was someone who could build her own family had been a whole other journey. But, once she had found true love and made the decision to let it in, the act of creating a family, a home, that was theirs had been shockingly easy.
Now, she was surrounded by chaos once again, but it was suffused with the truest of love and joy. She relished every noisy, messy, wonderful second of it.
Emma and her family had been back in Storybrooke for about three weeks, having defeated the witch and the fairies that had come for Hope's magic. They had returned to Boston last week for a few days, picking up belongings from apartments and workplaces and breaking ties with landlords and employers. They squeezed in time for a few touristy things too, like the New England Aquarium and a meal at Legal Seafoods. Emma loved every minute of it, having gained a new appreciation for spending time with her husband when they actually knew for certain who they were to each other.
Given her past, Emma had always been grateful, sometimes to the point of awe, of the life that she had now. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine living in a town where she was actually admired and which was filled with family and friends who loved her.
All of that alone would have been enough to blow teen convict-Emma's mind. That Emma would never even have begun to entertain the possibility that she would live in a beautiful victorian house by the sea with a husband and two children that she loved utterly and completely, and who loved her in return.
But as much as she'd always appreciated her messy, noisy family life, she had never appreciated it more than she did now, after she'd come close to losing everything just weeks ago.
This morning in the Swan-Jones house, she was particularly enjoying the noise and chaos. (Maybe that was why she wasn't focused on the date.)
After Killian rushed through his own breakfast ("I know it's bad form, my loves, sincerest apologies") he'd he kissed her and Hope on the tops of their heads and hurried upstairs to shower and dress.
Shortly after Killian left, Henry trudged into the kitchen and began to fill his plate.
"Where did you leave my Astronomy Club permission slip?" he asked Emma, after a quick good morning and between mouthfuls of eggs.
"On the dining room table, near your backpack," she replied cooly. "Why do you even need permission anyway? You're going out on your stepfather's ship with your stepfather."
Henry rolled his eyes. "It's just the rules, Mom," he replied.
"Who else is going?" Emma asked, sipping her coffee and not looking at him. She knew it was best not too act too interested if she wanted any scoop from her teenager.
"Violet?" Hope chimed in cheerfully.
"You too?" he asked Hope in mock outrage. "Traitor!"
His little sister just shrugged and grinned sweetly with her ketchup-covered mouth.
"Give her a break," Emma said. "You know she picks up on everything the rest of us say. Anyway, I'm just going to get the story from Killian afterwards, so you might as well tell me," she teased.
"Okay, never mind," Henry replied. "I'm quitting Astronomy Club. Who wants to do a stargazing cruise in Maine in November anyway? It's going to be freezing."
"Don't you dare quit," Emma playfully scolded. "Captain Jones would be devastated."
"Fine, but I'm going to make him swear some kind of pirate's oath not to talk about who else goes on the ship and what happens while we're out there."
"Doesn't matter," Emma replied with shrug as she took a sip of coffee. "I have ways of making him talk."
"Gross."
"That's not what I meant!"
"Mom," Hope interrupted. "If I eat all my eggs can I have some of my Halloween candy after breakfast?"
"What? No!" Emma exclaimed in response. "It's not even eight o'clock in the morning."
"But I waaaaannnnnnt some," Hope whined, as if the time of day meant absolutely nothing in the face of candy.
"No," Emma replied firmly. "You can have some after school. Besides, we have to get going."
She stuck a couple more forkfuls of egg into Hope's little mouth, and then told her to finish her juice. She started clearing the dishes just as Killian joined them again. He took over the dishwashing as she made Hope's lunch. They took turns shouting reminders at the kids about what they needed to pack for school.
Finally, Killian helped Hope pack her backpack and pull on her boots and jacket while Emma double checked that Henry had his permission slip, his schoolwork, and his iPad, which he would want over the weekend since he was staying at Regina's.
They all piled out the front door together into the brisk autumn morning. Emma smiled as she watched Killian and Hope hold hands and skip jauntily across the lawn. All in all, it was nice, noisy, typically chaotic morning at the Swan-Jones house.
To Emma, it was perfect.
They dropped off the kids; Henry at the high school and Hope at Ashley's daycare, which had evolved over the years into a real preschool, complete with three full-time teachers in addition to Ashley. Hope was always happy to go there and see her friends, and she was proud to go to "school" like her big brother. Of course, she still gave Emma and Killian long, lingering hugs goodbye each day and assured them that she would miss them.
Next, Emma and Killian stopped at Granny's for coffees, exchanging chit chat and greetings with the other townsfolk who were in the diner for breakfast. They'd been back from Boston long enough that just about everyone in town knew the whole story and had offered their welcome backs and congratulations, so there was little need to spend time catching up with friends and neighbors. Killian shot Granny a habitual wink as she handed them their drinks, and she rolled her eyes and gave him an "oh you," in return.
Per their usual routine, they settled into Emma's office upon arrival at the station. She sat in her chair and booted up the old desktop computer, and he reclined comfortably across from her in one of the guest chairs. She shook her head as she watched him sip his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was still piping hot. It would be ten minutes before she'd be ready to drink hers with such abandon.
He watched her watching him and smirked rakishly, raising an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes.
Such was their routine.
She shifted her focus to the computer and pulled up her email. It was the usual mix of small town complaints, spam, and bureaucratic notifications from the Mayor's Office.
"Great," she said to Killian. "Regina wants to go over the budget again next Tuesday. She does realize that we can just trade in some doubloons or conjure up a magic cashier's check if we need a new cruiser or something, right?"
When she didn't hear him chuckle, she glanced from her computer screen, and saw that his brow was creased with tension.
"What?" she asked, feeling like she was missing something.
"Nothing," he replied.
He was lying.
She peered at him for a moment, and then looked back at her screen to pull up the calendar. He was acting weird, but that was no reason she should forget to create a calendar entry for a meeting.
As soon as she opened the calendar application, she realized it.
Today. Today was November 3. Shit.
"Oh," she said quietly, continuing to stare at the screen as the feelings and memories came flooding back.
"Swan, love, I didn't know if I should remind you," he said apologetically. "Or if perhaps you had already remembered."
"No," she replied, and she knew it sounded cold, but she couldn't help it. "I didn't remember."
"I'm sorry. I know that today is always dreadful for you."
Emma felt blindsided. She knew that she shouldn't feel the hurt of an abandonment that happened more than thirty years ago, but she did. She had been a child, practically a baby for heaven's sake. The anger on behalf of all babies, on behalf of her little Hope, started to well up in her. She felt the lump of hurt and angry tears form in her throat, but she fought to keep her feelings in check.
Killian got up from his seat and sat on the desk in front of her. She continued to stare at the computer screen, knowing that if she looked at him and saw the love and concern in his face, the dam would break and she would cry.
He seemed to be considering what to say, whether to reach out for her, when the phone rang.
She grabbed at it like it was a lifeline.
"Sheriff's office," she answered thickly, still fighting tears.
"Sheriff Swan?" It was a man's voice she recognized. Peter, the pumpkin farmer, she realized. He went on to explain that he'd been engaged in an ongoing confrontation with his neighbor about the boundaries between their pieces of land. Apparently, that morning, the neighbor had gotten up bright and early and begun erecting a fence where he believed the boundary was, but which Peter believed was two feet onto the perimeter of his own land. They had shouted and nearly come to blows, and he needed help settling the dispute.
Emma assured him that they could help, thinking that they could pull the official maps of the properties from Town Hall and then bring them out to show the two landowners.
Her own trauma temporarily forgotten, she hung up the phone and explained the situation to Killian.
"I understand, love, but perhaps they can wait until we've talked for a moment," he replied, not moving from his spot on her desk even as she stood and pulled on her jacket.
"Nope," she retorted. "Can't wait. Peter was all fired up. We don't want these guys getting into a fist fight or, worse, grabbing pitchforks over this. We should get over to Town Hall and then get out there."
Killian sighed in defeat and stood to leave with her just as the phone rang again.
Emma sighed in annoyance before she grabbed it. "Sheriff's office."
"Emma? It's Blue," came the answer on the other end of the line.
"Oh, hey," Emma replied. She was surprised and off-kilter. The Blue Fairy, now the Mother Superior at the local convent, never called her unless it was something really serious and usually magic-related.
"What can I do for you?" Emma continued.
"I wonder if you could come over here today. There is a delicate and urgent matter that I need to discuss with you."
"Okaaaay," Emma replied slowly, shooting a glance at Killian, who raised a curious eyebrow. "Is everything all right? Are we in danger? Is it the dark fairies again?" She heard the pitch of her own voice raise in concern. Killian was looking at her intently.
"No, nothing like that," Blue assured her. "There's just a situation I need to discuss with you. Only you, if that's all right."
Emma's curiosity was piqued. She glanced at Killian again. He was more than capable of handling the farmers' land dispute on his own.
And, she had to admit, she wouldn't mind a few minutes alone to process her realization of what today's date was without his well-intentioned and loving concern. She felt awful about that. Eventually, she would let him comfort her, but right now, she needed to wallow in it for a while. He would understand. He always did.
"Sure, Blue. I'll be right over," Emma said into the phone before hanging up. She felt Killian's eyes on her. She didn't look up to meet them as she continued to pull on her jacket.
"So, um, Blue wants to talk to me about something kind of urgent," Emma said to Killian. "You can handle this farm thing on your own, right? Once you get the property line records, it should be easy to settle the issue."
"Swan," he said. "I think we should talk first."
She finally looked up to meet his gaze, willing him to see that she was okay for the moment. She just needed some time to process things.
"Killian, it's okay. I had forgotten what today was, but now I remember. It's all right. No big deal. I'm happy to just keep busy all day."
She held eye contact with him as he searched her face. Then, as he usually did, he followed her lead.
"Okay," he said. "I'll take the cruiser and call you when I'm on my way back."
She felt a pang of guilt at sending him off alone. Of course it was nothing that he couldn't handle, but she knew that he would spend the whole drive out and back worrying about her. She promised herself that they would talk, really talk, later.
He grabbed a set of car keys from her desk, and together they silently walked to the station's parking lot. Killian gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes and nodded goodbye before turning towards the old police cruiser.
"Hey," she called, as she jogged a couple steps towards him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Be careful with those old coots," she said stupidly.
He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the term but simply replied, "As you wish, love." This time, the goodbye grin he gave her was more genuine, and she felt a little better.
She forced herself to breathe deeply as she drove the short distance to the convent at the edge of town. Her mind kept trying to conjure up terrible visions of those cold, faceless parents giving a sobbing Hope, who so resembled Emma when she was a child, back to a social worker.
She pushed the images aside as best she could.
She focused on what she knew to be true in the here and now. She had a family now, a big one. She may have been unwanted as a child, but now she and her own children were loved and wanted as much as anyone.
She was okay.
She would be okay.
She was starting to feel better, more focused on the present, as she pulled into a spot in front of the convent and climbed the steps to the main entrance.
Blue's office could generously be described as spartan, but to Emma, the word "foreboding" always came to mind. The curtains were half drawn, and a stained glass desk lamp provided little additional illumination. There a were few decorations, mostly of generic Christian iconography, that were holdovers from the days of the curse. The fairy hadn't bothered to add many personal touches since she'd gotten her real memory back years ago.
Blue's cold, business-like demeanor was such a far cry from what Emma would have imagined a fairy's would be like before she knew that fairies were real. Plus, Blue was as different as could be from Emma's friend Tink, who oozed warmth and kindness while wielding a wicked sense of humor.
Blue's shoulders were tense and her expression was as serious as ever as she greeted Emma and offered her a cup of tea. Emma politely declined the drink and sat down in the guest chair across from Blue's desk.
"Thank you for coming over so quickly, Emma," Blue began. "I know that your family has had a difficult time lately, and I waited as long as I could to bring this to you."
"Okay, the suspense is killing me," Emma chided, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and trying to break the somber mood. "What's up?"
Blue sighed and glanced up at her closed office door as if to confirm that they wouldn't be disturbed.
"Did you ever meet a novice, a young fairy, named Winifred? She's small, with reddish hair. She left us almost a year ago."
Emma wracked her brain, still curious about where this was going. "Uh, I kind of remember some scuttlebutt about one of the fairies leaving town. Did something happen to her?"
Blue sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Yes," she replied. "That is, she's okay, but she's in a predicament. You see, Winifred had decided that our order and life in our small town was not for her, and she was quite adamant about it. I had suggested that we find a way to return her to the Enchanted Forest, but she was not interested in that. It seemed she was quite taken with the modern way of life here, with media and entertainment."
"So...she liked movies? TV? Instagram? Sounds like most young people," Emma said with a shrug.
"Yes, well, our order requires a certain discipline," Blue answered. "It was clear to me that Winifred was not in possession of it, so I agreed to let her leave Storybrooke. We gave her some funds and taught her what she would need to know to find a place to live, a job. She was planning to go to New York."
"A nice cheap place to live," Emma snorted. Her mind was threatening to wander unless this fairy got to the point about what this had to do with her.
"Several weeks ago, she returned to Storybrooke," Blue continued.
"Oh?"
"Yes, and as it turns out, she is expecting. Thirty-one weeks, as it seems. She has seen Dr. Whale twice now. Thankfully, she and the baby are both healthy. Unfortunately, the father is out of the picture already, and well, Winifred does not want to raise a child."
Emma's blood felt like it had turned to ice water. Her stomach suddenly began to churn.
Why this?
Why today of all days?
She had to look away from Blue as her mind raced.
She struggled to maintain her composure. She took a few shallow breaths and looked back up at the senior fairy, who had the good grace to look apologetic.
"I know it must be emotional for you, to hear about someone else in this situation. I'm sorry to spring it on you so suddenly," Blue said.
Emma shook her head. "It's okay," she replied, her voice a little shaky. "So, does she need somebody to talk to about her options, like giving it up for adoption?"
"Well, we've talked a lot, and she spent some time back in New York talking to social services, and one private adoption agency. She knows she wants to give the baby to a loving home." Blue hesitated, looking at Emma carefully before continuing. "The trouble is that, she, like a lot of us here in town, know your story, what you went through in this world's system. She feels like, if she gives the baby up outside of Storybrooke, it will end up in group homes or foster care, like you did."
Emma nodded, not trusting her voice again.
What she went through.
Even though almost everybody in town had gotten their happy endings, there were a lot of sad backstories that had come before. Somehow, among all those sad stories, hers was so tragic that it was memorable even to virtual strangers like this Winifred.
Her mind repeated the date to her again: November 3. The day they gave her back.
She stared at Blue, waiting for the rest. She thought she knew what was coming, and she wished that Killian was there by her side. Her hand physically twitched with the urge to reach out for his hook, as if he was sitting in the empty chair to her right.
"So she wants a private adoption, here in Storybrooke," Emma clarified, because Blue seemed to be waiting for her signal to continue.
"That's right," Blue replied gently. "And I hope you don't mind me coming to you first, but I thought that, under the circumstances, you and Killian might consider it."
"I see."
"I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. It's just that, Winifred knows a lot about you, what you overcame to become the person that you are. She thinks the world of you, and she really wanted to ask you first. I didn't know whether you and Killian were considering having another child, or if you've ever thought about adopting..." Blue was rambling, and Emma was surprised to see that the woman was a little flustered.
"No, it's okay," Emma assured her. She was surprised by her urge to comfort Blue given the bomb she'd just dropped on Emma. "I understand why you'd think of us. It's just...honestly, I wish Killian were here." Emma heard her own voice break on the last words and felt tears spring to her eyes.
This was a lot for one day.
"Perhaps I should have asked you both to come in," Blue conceded. "I want to keep this matter as private as possible. I also thought that, given your own sensitive history with adoption, you might want to consider it and have the chance to refuse before bringing him into it."
Emma shook her head vehemently. "Nope. That's not the way we operate," she said, a little more coldly than she'd intended.
Blue frowned at the mild rebuke and looked down at the papers on her desk.
Emma took a deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts.
"How far along did you say? Was it thirty-one weeks?" she asked.
"That's right."
"Why did she wait so long?"
"Well, she's been back for a couple of months, actually," Blue replied. "It's just that, you were gone. In Boston."
"Right. And how old is she, Winifred?"
"She's nineteen," Blue replied.
"I see. And she's sure she wants to give it up? I mean, as sure as anyone can be." Emma heard the emotion in her own voice and willed herself to keep it together.
"Yes," Blue answered firmly. "She still wants a life, a career, outside of Storybrooke." The woman paused. "Actually, she's asked for a forgetting spell, after she gives birth, to forget about the pregnancy and the baby."
"Oh, no," Emma breathed. She didn't know this girl at all, hadn't ever met her, but she knew that using magic to forget was the wrong choice. For as much as Emma's seventeen-year-old self would have wished to forget about giving up her own son, it was a choice that she made; a choice that she had to live with. And as the years went by, she grew to truly understand that it was the right choice, a choice made in love and with hope for the best possible future for her baby boy.
"I advised her against the forgetting spell," Blue added. "I think it would be a mistake."
Emma nodded firmly.
Her emotions were like a storm churning inside of her. Her mind raced as she tried to process it all.
This poor girl had been all alone in New York, growing more and more afraid that her baby would have a terrible life.
Emma's family's life was just getting back to normal, and she liked it that way. If they said yes to this, they would have a new baby in the house in just two months. Did they want that? Were they ready to do it again?
The truth was, they had talked about having another baby. Emma wasn't taking birth control pills during her time in Boston. Her love life there had been decidedly nonexistent in the weeks before she "met" her handsome neighbor who also happened to be her husband that she didn't remember. Just a few nights ago, she and Killian had agreed that she'd stay off of the pills, and that they would see what happened. But another pregnancy was still just an idea; a possibility that could be a year or two away.
This was a brand new baby, a brother or sister for Hope and Henry that would be here right after Christmas.
If she said no, what would happen to the baby? Were there other families in town who would take it? Sean and Ashley? Her parents?
"I know that it's a lot," Blue said quietly. "Please take some time to think about it. And you can meet her, Winifred, any time, if you would like."
"Right," Emma replied. She stood, straightened her shoulders, and did her best to give Blue a calm and confident look. "Thank you for thinking of us. I will talk to Killian about it. We'll just...need a few days to think. Although, I realize that there isn't much time."
"No, there isn't," Blue agreed. "Thank you, and again, I apologize for the suddenness, and for not asking Killian to be here."
Emma waved off the apology, smiled what felt like a wan smile, and turned to the door.
As she placed her hand on the handle, she thought of one more question. It didn't really matter; wouldn't factor into their decision, but she wanted to know anyway.
"Does she know if it's a boy or a girl?" Emma asked. Her back was still turned to the fairy.
"Dr. Whale said that it's a girl," Blue replied quietly.
Emma nodded. "Okay. Thanks," she managed to say before quickly turning the handle and leaving the office.
She made her way to the main entrance of the convent and practically stumbled down the steps towards her car.
Once inside the tiny yellow Volkswagen, she put her arms onto the steering wheel, rested her head on them, and cried.
She only allowed herself a few moments of tears, after which she quickly sat up straight and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. She focused on breathing, in and out, and tried to organize her thoughts.
Blue could be mercurial, but she had good intentions. She hadn't meant to make this request of Emma on this day of all days. At least, Emma thought she hadn't. She supposed Blue could have found out the significance of this date to Emma, but as unreadable as the fairy sometimes was, there was no reason for her to try to manipulate Emma this way.
Adopting a baby. She had thought about it before, to be honest. It was something she and Killian had even spoken about once or twice after they'd moved in together and on the rare occasions they had a quiet moment to discuss the future. But she had found out she was pregnant shortly after the wedding, and they had been so focused on Hope ever since.
Hope.
Emma knew right away that Henry would be thrilled if they adopted Winifred's child. She wasn't worried about him at all. Hope would also be excited about the prospect of a baby sister as well, but what would they tell her? She'd known pregnant women before; had seen pictures of Emma when she was in "Mommy's tummy." They would have to tell her that the baby was adopted, right? But then the child would have to know? How did other people handle this?
She stopped her musings suddenly, realizing that she was already acting as if she was going to say "yes." This was all happening fast, and it had to, but she needed time to think, and most of all, she needed to talk it through with Killian.
She put the car in gear and headed back to the station, hoping that the farmers' dispute was already settled and that he'd be back soon.
As it turned out, luck was not on her side. When she got back to the station, she received a text from Killian telling her to go ahead and have lunch without him. He'd run into Regina at Town Hall, and when he told her about the property line dispute and the need to pull the town records, she'd insisted on doing it herself and coming with him to make sure that the issue was properly settled.
Apparently, Deputy Jones was now standing off to the side texting with Sheriff Swan-Jones while The Mayor was condescendingly and painstakingly walking off the correct property lines with the chastened farmers.
Emma chuckled as they texted back and forth. Poor Killian. Regina had even had ridden in the cruiser with him.
He asked how her meeting with Blue had gone, and she just said "fine" and that she'd fill him in when he returned. He assured Emma that he'd be back as soon as he could and signed off with kissing face emojis and a little sailboat.
She sighed and contemplated how to kill time and not drive herself crazy with anxiety while she waited for Killian to come back so they could talk. She had just opened up the old desktop PC to check the official Storybrooke PD email when another call came in.
This time, it was Mr. Smee. He was working out on the Jolly Roger and had seen some of the former Lost Boys passing around a bottle in a paper bag in a remote part of the docks. He was pretty sure they weren't of age and was worried they'd get drunk and steal or vandalize a boat. Emma agreed to come down to check it out and issue citations if needed.
She rolled her eyes as, before hanging up, Smee asked for her word that she'd tell the kids that the tip came from an anonymous source.
"Bad blood between us, you see," he said. "Goes way back."
"Yeah, I got it," Emma replied before hanging up and once again grabbing her jacket.
By the time she dealt with the underage boozehounds and grabbed some lunch from the market (she wasn't in the mood to face Granny's) it was mid-afternoon.
Killian was sitting as his desk in the bullpen when she arrived, and he immediately stood to greet her.
"Hello, love, did everything go all right?" he said, taking a few steps toward her as she stood by her office door. "I got your text about the Lost Boys. Those miscreants."
"They didn't put up a fight," she replied tiredly. She held up the white paper bag she was holding. "Did you eat? I only ate half of this turkey sandwich."
"Aye, Regina and I stopped for a bite on the way back into town," he replied with a predictably disgruntled look.
Emma chuckled. He was here, and he was adorable, and as a result, she could feel the knot of tension that had developed in her shoulders start to relax.
He followed her into her office as she took off her leather jacket and hung it on the rack. She tossed the remains of her lunch onto the desk and sat down in her chair. Killian sat down across from her and filled her in on the rest of his property line dispute adventure. She found herself laughing out loud at his impressions of the two embarrassed farmers actually teaming up against Regina as she was yelling at them about their dispute.
She knew that he was trying to help her relax, and she appreciated it, but after a few minutes of chit-chat, it felt like they were just delaying the inevitable.
"So," he said finally. "I am sorry about this morning."
She felt her mood instantly darken as she remembered waking up blissfully happy, unaware that she would be blindsided not once but twice in the coming hours.
"Why didn't you remind me?" she asked him. She kind of already knew, but a part of her did resent him. She hated herself a little bit for that.
"You seemed to happy, so carefree," he said. He kept his eyes up, and they were full of that sincerity she loved. They also held a measure of regret. "I knew that, you'd eventually remember, but that delaying the memory might be a gift, so that you could have a happy morning."
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"I suppose a part of me hoped that you had remembered," he continued quietly. "That perhaps you'd..."
"Gotten over it?" she snapped. "Suddenly become totally fine with being given back to an orphanage at age three because my family didn't want me anymore?" She hated the venom she heard in her voice, but the stress of the day had returned and she couldn't help it. "Sorry to disappoint you. I guess I'm just too broken to be fixed that quickly."
His face fell, and he looked down at the floor in shame. Instantly, her heart twisted in agony with the knowledge that she had hurt him. But before she could apologize, he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Emma," he said quietly. "I handled this all wrong. I didn't at all mean to imply that you should have somehow moved past this." He had raised his eyes again to look at her, and all she saw was sincerity and love.
Now she felt really shitty.
She took a calming breath and then stood up. She walked around the desk to the chair where he was sitting and stood in front of him. He looked up at her questioningly, as if he might be expecting further admonishment.
"Make room," she said simply.
He smiled slowly and raised his arms, holding them open in readiness. She climbed onto his lap, her legs off to one side. She put her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. Emma could feel them both relax as they began to breathe in sync. Killian stroked her hair with his hand.
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "You didn't do anything wrong. Today just...well it turned out to be even crazier than I could have imagined."
He pulled back a little so that he could look her in the eyes. "What happened? Was it the meeting with Blue?"
She sat up straighter but kept her hands on his shoulders. "It sure was," she replied. "She has a bit of a situation at the convent, and she has a request for us."
"All right," Killian replied, furrowing his brow as he waited for her to explain.
Emma told him about Winifred, and her dreams of living in New York, and the boy who had gotten her pregnant and then left her alone. She told him how the girl wanted the baby to go to a loving home here in Storybrooke.
"She's pretty far along, thirty-one weeks, so ideally this would have been settled sooner, but we were away in Boston..." Emma finished, looking at him. Her stomach was full of butterflies and her palms were sweaty.
She wanted this, she thought, and she needed him to want it too.
She saw the realization, as well as the shock, grow in Killian's eyes as he studied her.
"Wait, love, are you saying...she wants us to take the baby?" She could feel that he was holding his breath even as his heart began to pound rapidly.
"Yep! We were hand selected. The girl has taste." Despite her attempt at levity, she could feel her eyes filling with tears. "I guess, she knows a little bit about us, and she liked the idea of the baby coming home with us."
She watched him expectantly, her nervousness growing. Killian appeared to be speechless.
"Say something, Captain," she whispered. Her heart was pounding now too. How had she become so invested in this so quickly?
He blinked a few times, then looked up to study her face. He could always read her so well, and she saw the moment that he realized how much she wanted it.
"You want to do this," he said.
She shook her head, still surprised how certain she had become. "I mean, after a few hours to adjust to the idea, I'm thinking, yeah we should." She paused and looked him firmly in the eyes. "But we need to want to do this, not just me."
"How would it work?" he asked. "Does the mum just sign a piece of parchment and leave town, and we never see her again? What if she changes her mind?"
Emma bit her lip. "We would need to work out those details, but she's very serious about this. She wants to go back to New York. I guess she could change her mind, but, we'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it. We can go and meet her any time to talk to her."
"So you didn't meet her, today?"
"No."
"And Blue didn't want me there to discuss this?" His brow was furrowed in worry as he asked this.
Emma tilted her head and studied the worry in his face. "No," she answered. "She thought that, given that adoption was a very personal issue for me, she wanted to bring it to me first. I guess to give me a chance to say 'no.' Kind of weird, but that's Blue."
"I see," he replied. His eyes were distant for a moment, but then he blinked and firmly met Emma's gaze again. "Okay," he said finally.
"Okay?" Emma whispered. The tears were welling in her eyes again.
"Emma if this child needs a family, a home, and fate saw fit to bring her to us, I can't imagine refusing. Especially not today of all days." His eyes were a little wet now too, but his voice was clear and firm.
Emma's heart leapt, and she made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and sob as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He returned her embrace fiercely, holding her tight as she breathed against his neck. When she pulled back to look at his face, his cheeks were wet with tears. She gently wiped them away with her thumbs.
"Thank you," was all she could say.
He wrinkled his brow in what looked like genuine confusion.
"Why are you thanking me, love? I should be thanking you. The idea that someone would ever look and me and entrust me with their child...it would have been unthinkable for me, for most of my life. The fact that I am even in a position to be offered this, it's only because you."
She smiled and leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. This is what he did for her. He gave her perspective, optimism. He made her feel like the most important person in the world.
"You know, all morning I've been feeling like me forgetting what today was and then being asked to adopt this baby was some kind of strange or even cruel joke," she said quietly, pulling back from him by just a few inches.
"And now?" he asked, his lips curving in a small smile.
"I feel like it's fate. Like it was meant to happen this way."
"That's my optimistic savior," he replied.
He was smiling in earnest now, and he leaned up and kissed her lightly on the lips. She smiled against his mouth, relaxing into him even as, in the back of her mind, she knew that they had a million things that they would need to think about; a million things to do.
They could have this moment, she thought as she kissed him back.
However, it was to be a short moment. She felt his phone buzz in the inside pocket of his jacket even as she heard her own phone ping from the desk.
She pulled back and signed in irritation while Killian rolled his eyes. She got up and grabbed her phone as Killian reached for his.
They both read the message from Ashley at the same time.
It read: Hey Emma and Killian, can we chat for a few minutes at pickup today? There was a little bit of an issue with Hope. No big deal, and everyone is fine, but we should talk about it. I'll wait for one or both of you out front at 5.
"Bloody hell," muttered Killian.
"Shit," said Emma.
After their simultaneous curses, they made eye contact and smiled at each other. Then, Emma sighed.
Hope didn't cause trouble at school very often. She was sweet, outgoing, and good at sharing. She did have a stubborn streak though, and she could dig her heels in on certain issues. She also had a touch of her parents' independent spirits, and though she generally followed the rules, she would violate them if her instincts told her it was right to do so.
Ashley was a good friend of theirs, and she had known Hope since she was born. She had only contacted them during the school day a couple times before. Once when Hope had bumped heads hard with another child during recess, and once when she had unwittingly used her magic to topple a nearby block tower when she had gotten frustrated with her own creation. That was last year though, and it was one of the first times that Hope had shown her magic at all.
Killian, as ever, might as well have been reading her thoughts. "Think she used her magic, love?"
Emma shrugged. "I don't know. She's been pretty good about reining it in since we started those lessons."
He raised his eyebrows.
"I know, I know, there's been some stuff," she acknowledged, thinking about breakfast food stuck on the ceiling and an immaculately conceived baby chick named Tinkerbell. "I guess we'll find out at five."
He nodded, and then they both got back to work since they planned to both leave early and go together to Ashley's. There wasn't anything urgent to deal with, but they were behind on returning calls and answering emails.
Emma could tell that Killian was watching her and listening closely as she called Blue at the convent and arranged for them to meet with Winifred the next day around lunchtime. Blue sounded relieved and even genuinely happy. Emma's stomach was again full of nervous butterflies (she hated that metaphor now) as she took this step, but she still felt sure that this was the right direction for them.
When she hung up, she looked at Killian, who was smiling softly. "So tomorrow then," he said.
"Tomorrow," she replied, taking a step toward him and taking hold of his hook. "You're sure, right?"
"Aye, love, I'm sure." He paused, seeming to realize something. "Hey, I didn't even ask. Is it a boy or..."
"It's a girl!" Emma interrupted, unable to suppress a gleeful grin.
"Wonderful, the lad and I will be officially outnumbered," he joked. His eyes were sparkling again.
"You love it," she teased, kissing him on the cheek.
She looked down at her phone on the desk. It was a quarter to five.
"Okay, Captain, time to see what kind of mischief Hope Margaret has gotten into to. You ready?"
"I am, love."
He stood before her and looked at her earnestly, and she knew that he was talking about more than just being ready to leave.
Emma smiled at him.
She was ready too.
She was ready to be there for a lost child the way that nobody was ever there for her. She was ready to partner with Killian again to be parents to another amazing kid. She was ready for more happy, wonderful noise and chaos. She was ready to have November 3 take on an entirely different meaning.
They walked out of the station hand and hand.