A/N- Sorry for the wait. I've had a lot on my plate recently. Poll's still up if you want to leave your input. Reviews work too, if you are so inclined.

-S.

Emma stirred her hot chocolate slowly, watching as the plumes of steam rose up into the air. Even the delicious drink, which had quickly become her favorite, could not calm her. It had been days. She didn't know how anyone in this bloody town could do it-could stay one place like this, never questioning why they didn't leave. Even Killian, whose veins ran with sea water, had not dared to sail away.

Or maybe, that was the problem: they didn't think they had a reason to.

If the citizens of Storybrooke knew who was leading them, knew that the Evil Queen was their mayor, and that the Dark One practically owned the town, they would surely revolt. But they didn't know. They thought their mayor was merely frightening, just someone to avoid. Then again, it wouldn't do them any good to know the truth if they were still trapped in their cursed personas, now would it? She doubted a school teacher had any hope of wielding a bow and arrow.

The bell above the door chimed, pulling Emma's eyes up towards the front of the restaurant. There was a reason she had stopped by every morning for breakfast, and it had nothing to do with the lack of eateries in town. Killian swept into the diner like he owned the place, whispered a few short words to Granny, who happened to be manning the hostess' podium today, and waited patiently for his order. It took Granny only a moment to retrieve it, leading Emma to assume that it was the same every day, and then he left.

Or rather, that was how it had gone every day for almost a week. Today, however, was different. Today, Killian's eyes snagged on her, and it was only a moment before he was sliding into the booth across from her.

"Are you following me?" he asked her in a low, sultry voice. She knew he wasn't angry by the way his eyes lit up at the question.

"You do know that this happens to be the only decently priced restaurant in this entire town?" Emma replied, thinking of the classy little bistro she'd discovered a few days prior. Even if she had that kind of money, food like that only brought up bad memories.

"Too true, Lass. Still, the fact that we're in here at the same time every morning-" He trailed off, knowing by the way her eyes widened comically, that she'd caught his meaning. So what if she knew that his regular order was a blueberry bagel with cream cheese, and a large black coffee? She was only being observant, not pathetic.

"Fine," she responded. "Think what you want."

"I don't think you know what you just agreed to." Killian shot back, his mind suddenly racing with thoughts of her. It wasn't exactly a new occurrence, but still, it left him confused. Who was this woman, and why could he not get her out of his head? He knew almost nothing about her, and yet-

Yet, he felt like he did. Or he wanted to, at least.

He hadn't felt this way in years. Not since-since her. Well, that, he knew, was dangerous, possibly deadly territory, and so he did his best to push those thoughts from his head. Not here, not in public, and certainly not in the presence of such a lovely lass. He could wait to fall apart when he was alone, and had his rum for company, surely.

"Oh," Emma began, daring herself to take that first step. They hadn't spoken since her first day in town, and ever since that conversation, Emma had been mentally hitting herself, wondering why she had not pushed things further. She had to get him to remember. She just had to. "And what exactly do you want, Colin?" She bit back a wince at his new name, which she kind of hated, but she had a feeling that he'd get suspicious if she never used it.

He gulped, suddenly feeling like he was being torn in half. He'd made a vow to himself, years ago, when he couldn't quite find a reason to get out of bed, that he'd never let himself love again. It only ever led to pain and heartbreak. And yet, looking at this woman now, Emma, something in his heart told him that if he didn't do something now, he'd regret it for the rest of his days. She was important. He wasn't quite sure how he knew it, but he did.

"Would you, maybe, want to go to dinner with me? I mean, I know we don't really know each other at all, but I just can't stop thinking about you and-bloody hell, that came out wrong, didn't it? I don't know what I'm doing." His hand reached up to scratch behind his ear, before he dropped it and his gaze to his lap. Emma watched as he fiddled with his prosthetic hand, doing all that he could, it seemed, to keep from looking at her.

She wanted to scream, to break this curse, and lock the queen away for good, to cut the Crocodile into tiny little pieces. They'd succeeded in ruining everything, hadn't they? Her parents were separated, she'd missed every moment of her son's life, and now her husband was an entirely different man from the one she knew. If she didn't know any better, she'd think the queen's plan was meant for her entirely.

How much could her mother be suffering, after all, if she didn't ever remember everything she'd lost?

That was the true curse, wasn't it? To know, and to not be able to do anything about it. Except, maybe, she thought, noting the fact that Killian still refused to look at her, maybe she could do something about it. True Love was the most powerful magic of all, right? And that was her; that made her powerful. She could do this. "Of course I'll go out with you."

His answering grin was enough to make her believe that maybe she had a chance.

Before anything else could be said, the bell above the door chimed again, and this time, Henry entered the room, clad in a heavy coat and a backpack. "Emma," he called, approaching the table, "sorry we haven't been able to talk or anything. My mom's been really strict lately." And there was another thing she hated. Why was the queen mom, and she, just Emma? It wasn't fair in the least.

Of course, she could never blame Henry for such a thing, but it still hurt.

"It's alright," she replied, even though it really wasn't, but Henry seemed to take the words at face value before slipping into the booth beside her. It was silent for one tense, awkward moment before, "Henry, this is Colin. We met the day I arrived in town." Well, she was going to have to start somewhere, even if she wanted that somewhere to be "This is your father." Baby steps.

Henry eyed him suspiciously for a moment before offering a muffled greeting, and turning to look at Emma again. She'd have to ask him about that later. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to walk me to school. We could talk about…" he paused for a moment to shoot another suspicious glance in Killian's direction, before continuing. "Operation Cobra." Emma fought the urge to chuckle at the silly name Henry had invented for their mission. "To stop my mom from finding out," he'd said. It was strange, at yet, she quite liked the sound of it.

Emma nodded and shrugged on her leather jacket before looking back towards Killian. "I'll see you Friday at seven?"

He thought for a moment, almost, caught off guard by the question. "Aye. I'll meet you outside of the Bed and Breakfast?"

She grinned and agreed before leading Henry outside.

They hadn't even reached the street corner when he asked, "Was that my dad?"

Emma's steps faltered. This wasn't exactly the time or place for this conversation, and yet, it didn't look like she would be able to brush it off this time.

"Why would ask that?" she tried anyway. Was it too much to ask to get a few moments alone to process what just happened before being interrogated? Still, he had a right to know. And besides, it wasn't his fault she felt so stressed and tired.

Henry rolled his eyes at the question. "Uh, you're going on a date with him?"

They walked in silence for a few moments as Emma thought of just how to respond. Finally, she settled on a simple, "Yes. He is your father."

She thought perhaps, that their walk would grow tense with the knowledge, but Henry never missed a beat. "Do you think that if you could get him to fall in love with you, you guys could break the curse?"

Emma didn't say anything for a long moment. The truth was that she wasn't sure. Maybe Henry and his book were right about her being the savior, about her having magic because she was made of true love but that didn't mean she'd found it. That was one of the reason's she'd run away in the first place: she was caught between true love and alliance. Her parents needed to build a strong alliance with another kingdom in order to help protect Misthaven from the threat of the queen, but at the same time, they were the greatest true love story ever told. They were hoping she'd somehow find her true love in a powerful prince or king. And if she didn't, she'd have to give up on the notion of true love altogether.

And then, there was Killian. Yes, she loved him, but that may not have been enough. She knew the story of Milah, of how in love they'd been. Of how he'd vowed to avenge her by any means necessary. How he'd spent a few years on that dastardly island in hopes of matching the Dark One's immortality. But she also knew that it had only taken a few weeks with her to sway him. He'd only intended to stay in Misthaven long enough to restock the Jolly Roger before pilfering another magic bean and returning to Neverland, but she stopped him, somehow. They started talking, and, and suddenly, things were different.

Still, just because she was enough to pull him from his revenge, didn't mean what they had was true love.

"I don't know, Lad. I don't know."

Snow White, or rather, Mary Margaret Blanchard, was standing in front of the school, greeting students when they arrived. The sight of her had Emma's pulse racing. She hadn't seen her mother in seven years (and then some, thanks to the curse), and yet, aside from a few new wrinkles, and a new, short hair cut, she hadn't changed at all.

Henry, sensing her apprehension, had run ahead to introduce the two of them. She thought she'd be used to acting like she didn't know anyone by that point, after running into Ruby and Granny and Killian, but nothing prepared her for her mother. It was like the last seven years had never happened, and she was just twenty-one years old again, left with huge shoes to fill and no idea how to do it.

"Miss Blanchard," Henry was saying when she caught up with him, "this is my birth mom, Emma Swan."

Her mother turned to smile warmly at her, and it was worlds away from the reaction she thought she'd get upon returning home. Years ago, before she'd met Killian and truly found her place in the world, the lonely days and even lonelier nights had brought with them thoughts of going home to that great big castle and subsequently, admitting that she was wrong. She'd always imagined a firm scolding, and then crying, lots of crying, not the friendly smile she received now.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Swan," her mother greeted, making her heart clench painfully in her chest. How much pain had she really caused her parents when she left? How much had her bold and immature choice really cost them?

"Uh, you too," she responded dumbly not sure what else to say.

It was at that point when Henry skittered into the school under the pretense of needing to help his friend with some homework.

And then there were two.

"Did he show you the book?" she questioned, a strange look on her face. Well, her mother had never been one to beat around the bush, so to speak.

Emma nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

"I didn't think it would have such an effect on him," Mary Margaret confessed guiltily. "It's just, well, he doesn't have a lot of friends, and I thought he could use something to believe in."

That familiar hope bubbled up in her mother's warm eyes, and while a part of Emma was surprised, the other, she thought, should have seen it coming. The chance to break the curse hinged on Emma's arrival in Storybrooke, and in a way, it made sense that her mother was the one to set it in motion. She bit down the need to explain exactly what was going on in favor of something that sounded a bit less ridiculous.

"Kids have wild imaginations."

"Well, yeah, but, I feel like he's taken it too far. Did you know his mother-" she broke off with a surprised look on her face. Her eyes darted around Emma's face for a moment, an apology clearly displayed in her gaze. "I-I mean the mayor has him in therapy? He really thinks that everyone in town is a fairytale character from that book."

Emma beat down the anger that arose at her words. Nothing was going to move forward if she spent all of her time imagining ways to murder the queen. "Really?" she asked instead. "So who does he think you are?"

Mary Margaret blushed and said in a small voice, "Snow White." She paused for a second before continuing. "And, there's this man in the hospital where I volunteer sometimes. He's been stuck in a coma for, well, forever almost. Henry thinks he's my Prince Charming and that I can somehow wake him up. I really don't know what to do about it."

An idea sprung up in Emma's mind, so bold and crazy, it had a chance of actually working.

"Maybe you should try to wake him up," she suggested. "You know, read him the book, or, or kiss him on the cheek or something."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows rose so high that they almost completely disappeared into her bangs. "What?"

"Well, think about it," Emma said, suddenly desperate to sound less like a lunatic. "If you try to wake him up and it doesn't work, maybe, maybe Henry will see that they really are just stories. Maybe it will help him move on from the book, you know?" Or, maybe it'll work and you'll remember.

Mary Margaret calmed down a bit at that, and she thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right. It's something to think about anyway." After a moment, her eyes roved down to her watch. "I've got to go. The bell is about to ring. Maybe we can talk later?"

"Yeah, okay," Emma responded, and then Mary Margaret turned away from her, dashing up the front steps of the school.