The sound of wailing babies and five o'clock traffic drowned out her voice. The smell of smoke made her stomach trundle aggressively and she wrapped her arms around her swollen belly.

"I can't do this," he said disgracefully with his head hung below his broad shoulders. "I thought I could but I can't."

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, already knowing he was without an answer. "You can't just leave me with this baby."

He looked at her from below his eyelashes with a look that told her that was exactly what he was doing. "I love you Emma." He whispered. "But I'm not ready to be a father."

She tasted bitterness in her throat but didn't say anything. She just watched as he watched her, studying him. It wasn't a surprise.

He'd never really committed to her in the first place, even after they'd eloped. The wedding was quick and they hadn't even had time to write their vows. Only promising each other the same traditional things as most other couples.

Through sickness and in health.

For rich or for poor. She laughed internally at that.

"I can send you a few checks every now and then," he promised without any real commitment. She knew better than to believe him. Neal wasn't very good at keeping his promises. "We can figure something out. I don't want you to take care of the baby alone."

"Then don't leave." She said simply, not bothering to hide her disappointment. A trait Neal once had admitted loving about her. She wasn't like other girls. Other girls confessed when they were upset about something but Emma kept it in.

It was something that allowed him to walk all over her.

"I can't do this." He repeated. "I'm not ready for this kind of commitment."

The cheap ring he put on her finger burned her skin and she pulled it off. "Like marrying me?"

She laughed at the hilarity of it all. She should have known he would run. It was what they were both good at. The only thing they had in common aside from biological parents that didn't want them.

She felt uncomfortable tears in her eyes but she would be damned if she let Neal see them.

Before he could respond she threw the ring at him but it bounced of him quickly and landed somewhere that sent him scrambling to the floor for it. She had no doubt he would pawn it for money that she wouldn't see a dime of.

"I hate you." She said with such sincerity it stunned them both and he physically moved away from her as her hands instantaneously went to her stomach to protect her baby from those words, almost covering his ears. "I fucking hate you Neal Cassidy."

He looked at her apologetically before picking the ring up and leaving quietly.

A crying Emma watched from the third floor of their project apartment, holding her stomach benevolently, as her deadbeat husband left her to raise a child on her own. He walked past the yellow bug and deep inside her she believed for a moment he was still a decent enough man to leave her with a car.

But as she felt her baby kick she remembered he was leaving her and he was the man she fell in love with. When there was no promise of commitment and they weren't expecting a child to take care of. When their relationship wasn't heavy and bills weren't past due every other week. When they could run together.

But now she was alone. She couldn't afford to run anymore. She had a child to stay for.


Emma Swan is surprisingly one of Boston's finest undercover Detectives. Unofficially declared one of the best of course, but as she wipes her spilled coffee off her crisp white shirt she doesn't feel like she's the best at anything unless being clumsy now counts as a talent.

You wouldn't really know it unless you saw her on a good day when she's already had her coffee before work and isn't a zombie on her feet.

The phone on her desk rings incessantly and she effortlessly tunes it out as she licks the only napkin she has and presses it to her shirt again, scrubbing at it until she can't remember if it was originally brown or if it was white when she started using it.

When she gets annoyed glances from the other Detectives she sighs exasperatedly but pulls the phone to her ear. "Detective Swan," she grumbles while unbuttoning the stained shirt.

Her fingers freeze in their haste and she grips the phone in her hand. "He did what?!" Out of her seat in seconds, Emma's out of her shirt and left standing in her signature white tank top and jeans. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes." She slams the phone down on the base and grabs her holster from her desk.

"Swan!" a voice booms from the office fifteen feet away from her.

With her foot almost out the door, Emma turns like a deer in the headlights and begins slowly toward the voice with small, hesitant steps toward it. "Yes, Lieutenant?" she rounds the corner into the small closet-like office.

"It's been two weeks and I still don't have your report from the fiasco at club Manon." He says without looking away from his desktop.

"Uh, I've been busy…" She rubs the back of her neck. "You know, with Hyde Park."

Lieutenant Davis is a large but muscularly built man with grey hair and never seems to wear a blazer with his suits. His shirts are always rolled to the elbows like he's just fished elbow deep in a toilet for his cell phone and he always looks tired.

For as long as Emma has been a Detective, he's always had the same pair of dark circles under his eyes inches away from a beard that hides his square jaw and a scar from his military days.

"That's not an answer." Davis looks at her.

"You didn't form it as a question," she says in her traditional charming smart-ass way. "I'll have it to you by the end of the day."

"Why not now?"

She bites her bottom lip for a moment before wringing her hands and sighing. "I have to do something,"

With skepticism Davis eyes her with interest and asks, "What's so important you can't write me a report that's been due for two weeks?"

Emma's head drops shamefully. "My kid got into a fight at school."

"For what?" Davis leans back into his chair like he's just sat down for a good boxing match.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I was on my way over there to find out."

He looks sympathetic but obviously not fond of her bailing, but fortunately he nods once and allows her to leave. "I want you back here in an hour."

"You got it, boss." She says as she turns on her heel and leaves the bullpen before he can change his mind.


Henry's sitting in the chair outside the Principal's office with a bleeding lip and a swollen cheek. Emma wants to be pissed at him for fighting in the first place but he looks so helpless and hurt that first she checks his face for any other contusions.

It takes Henry by surprise when suddenly his mother's hands are on his face. "What are you doing here?" he pushes her hands away.

"They called me," she explains while continuing her assessment. "What happened?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from her.

He should have known they would call her.

Emma's told at age ten, a kiss on the cuts and bruises doesn't make the pain go away anymore. And they no longer want mommy to hold them. They just want don't want to look like a baby around the rest of their peers.

He pulls his face out of her grasp. "Stop it," he hisses. "They're watching."

"Who-," her eyes follow his glare and sees identical twin boys that look older than ten across from them. They're wearing their baseball caps backwards and it takes a lot of effort not to laugh at them.

But what she really notices is the way they're glaring at Henry like he's the most vexatious thing to walk the earth.

"What's their problem?" Emma asks her son out the side of her mouth like she's too afraid to make a sudden movement.

"They're assholes." He explains simply.

"Henry!" She glares at him for his language.

"You say it all the time!" He defends with a shrug, not even bothering to apologize.

It's a solid reason but she still glares at him in a chastising manner before giving up the charade and just looking at him like she's glad he's okay. "So what really happened?" she says when she realizes there's not much wrong with him.

"They wanted my lunch money." He explicates almost inaudibly, shamefully, as his eyes fall to his hands in his lap. They're still shaking and a little bloody.

Emma glances across the room at the boys again and has no doubt her son got them both square in the nose. Her chest swells with pride but quickly deflates when the school's vice Principal walks out of her office.

"Mrs. Swan?" the young brunette woman asks hesitantly. Emma grimaces.

"Just Ms." She corrects as she stands up to shake the woman's hand. "Haven't been a Mrs. For about ten years."

"In my office please," the woman says politely. "I'd like Henry to stay here for a moment."

Suddenly Henry's spine is painfully straight and he sends his mother a pleading look, and she distinguishes it instantly. He's scared. Of those boys. She sends a scowl to the intimidating boys across the room.

"It's okay," she tells him with a soft, reassuring smile. "I'll be right in here and if they try anything I'll arrest them." She's not sure she really can. She's never had to arrest someone younger than sixteen but there's nothing she wouldn't do to keep her son safe.

Not absolutely convinced but enough to put on a brave face, Henry falls back into his seat and glares at the boys across from him as almost daringly as if he's being protected by the Secret Service.

"So what's the punishment?" Emma asks as they enter the warm office. She glances at the desk and notices the rectangular block of wood with her named carved into it as if it'd been done with expert hands next to the desktop monitor.

Mary-Margaret Blanchard.

"I've spoken with Henry and the other boys," Ms. Blanchard says as she sits back down in her seat. She gestures for Emma to sit as well but the Detective just waves her off and stands in the same menacing stance she's adopted since she saw Superman for the first time as a kid. With her chest squared and her hands on her hips.

"He claims the boys were bullying him." Ms. Blanchard continues.

"Claims?" one of Emma's brows quirk at the Principal's imprecise doubt.

"Well, Eric and Sean have claimed that Henry's been teasing them about their parents' divorce." She explains tentatively, feeling trivial compared to Emma. "However, I have had complaints about the Henderson boys since the start of the year so I believe Henry. I just have to take their side into account as well."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Henry wouldn't tease them about something like that. Me and his father split. If anything he'd know what they're going through and try to empathize with them."

Ms. Blanchard nods thoughtfully. "I understand. But still,"

"Listen," Emma sits down across from the other woman hastily, almost petulantly. "My kid isn't violent. He doesn't fight. Come fight or flight, he takes after his father. I didn't know he was being bullied and we're just lucky he didn't steal one of my guns."

Mary Margaret glances at the other woman's waist and notices a gun strapped to it and a badge.

"Me and that kid are going to have some words but this isn't Henry. He doesn't usually fight. I don't know what they said or did to him for this to happen but whatever it was, you can bet your ass it was big. So how about we sweep this under the carpet? A week of detention for them all and I can promise you it won't be happening again. Because if it does, I'm opening an investigation on this damn school as to why they're letting little boys bully each other."

Mary Margaret stares at her, openly agape, and part of her should feel threatened. But she doesn't. She feels awe-struck at the other woman's ferocity. "I understand, Ms. Swan. We can sweep this under the carpet. One week of detention for them all."

"Great," Emma agrees with an enthusiastic nod. "I have to get back to work. Is he suspended for the day or what?"

"I think in school suspension will be as useful. I wouldn't want you to have to call a sitter."

The Detective looks at the Principal gratefully. "Thanks," her demeanor dilutes from intimidating to just exhausted. She glances at her watch and quickly exits the office.

Emma crouches down in front of Henry and he still looks like the small baby boy she took home from the hospital. "Henry," she says as the office door opens and quietly exits the brunette Principal. She walks across the room to the two boys.

The Detective refocuses on her son. "Look I don't know what happened and I don't have a lot of time to talk about it. So you have the rest of the day to come up with a good enough reason for fighting."

He looks at her from beneath his lashes in the same way his father used to look at her and makes her heart drop.

"But secretly," she leans in and whispers. "I'm proud that you were brave enough to fight those two boys." She smiles proudly at her son and one breaks out onto his face as well. He hugs her.

"Good job, kid." She says into his ear. Henry squeezes her tighter and for a moment she forgets she's rushing to get back to work. All that matters is the feel of her son's arms wrapped around her so tightly she can barely breathe.

She remembers, and basks in, the feeling of being needed by someone. Loved.


A/N: Wow, you guys I am in awe at the feedback. More than I expected. I know it's not as good as all those other stories so I'm just glad you took the time to read it anyway. I don't use betas (problem with critique) so sometimes I'll correct what mistakes I make. Of course I try my best to proofread them but without the use of fresh eyes somethings go unnoticed and but at least an hour after it's been published the mistakes will be corrected. Anyways, I'm thinking each chapter is going to start with an italic flashback. I just want to express my gratitude and hope you guys continue to encourage me. Help me to please you :)