Hey guys I promised I wouldn't abandon you again, remember? I'm trying to get things moving plot wise, but I don't want to rush anything, so bear with me good things are to come. I have a poll up on my profile regarding 'like a shooting star' and what you want to read in it, so please go take it! If for some reason it isn't there, please just PM me/review with what you want to see next in that story. Enjoy! Also, I don't think I mentioned anything about Emma having glasses in previous chapters but, like in canon, teenage Emma has them, so I'm mentioning it this chapter.

8:15AM, Gold's House

Emma awakened with a jolt, halfway sitting up in her bed as she stared around the room, frowning. The small clock on the table read eight fifteen, and sunlight streamed through the curtains. She couldn't pinpoint exactly why she'd woken, but now that she was awake, she might as well leave the bed, however comfortable it was if she drifted off again she'd just miss Gold's promise of breakfast in town.

Yawning hugely, Emma shoved the duvet off, all the way down to the foot of the bed, and shivered as cool, early morning air hit her bare legs. God, she hated getting up.

The floor was equally chilly to her bare feet, but the hot shower was a refuge. Emma spent a good twenty minutes there, washing the feeling of long road trip off of her skin, and then just standing under the spray with contentment, a little half smile on her face. Upon stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in one of the huge, fluffy grey towels that were in the small linen closet, Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so clean and comfortable. Showers in previous years were a hurried affair, hot water a luxury to be conserved, and the other girls she lived with pounding on the bathroom door until the water was shut off. This house was refreshingly quiet, and if Emma were in less of a good mood, she'd say that it was downright eerie.

Wringing out her wet blond locks, Emma piled her hair in a bun on top of her head and dressed quickly in jeans and a comfortable sweater. Once she was out of the bathroom she slid on her glasses, blinking as the world came into better focus, and taking her hair out of its bun. Downstairs she could hear the softest of movements an adult walking around, as opposed to several small children.

Sliding her boots on and grabbing her jacket, Emma opened the bedroom door and shut it gently behind her, padding downstairs where it smelled of herbal tea and the mustiness of old books a not entirely unpleasant smell, although Emma wasn't huge on the books.

''Good morning, Emma,'' Gold greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen. ''All ready, I see?''

''Yeah. Your hot water pressure is fantastic.'' Ugh, she could so weird. It seemed to amuse Gold, however, for he let out something between a snort and a chuckle.

''Yes, I enjoy it. Tea?''

''Thanks, but I'm more of a hot cocoa girl.''

''You're in luck, then Granny makes the best hot cocoa I've ever tasted.''

''Does everyone call her Granny?'' Emma queried as Gold flicked off the burner, and stepping back into the hall as he walked past her to pull his coat from a peg.

''Yes. Don't ask me why, I honestly haven't the fainest.''

Nodding, Emma accepted this. Small town oddities. She could get with it.

''The entire town is walkable from here,'' Gold began, gesturing down the drive, ''you could probably make Granny's in five minutes. However, my leg wouldn't agree to that, so we must take my car.''

''Sure.''

''How did you sleep, anyway? Was your room comfortable?''

''Very,'' Emma answered, with a genuine grin. ''It's really nice.''

They rode the few minutes into town in relative but surprisingly comfortable silence. Gold parked across the street from the small diner Emma had seen last night, and they crossed the street, entering the small diner with a jingle of the bell above the door.

A dark haired woman behind the counter glanced up, double taking as Gold stepped in, and then downright staring as Emma followed. In fact, most of the patrons seemed to quiet as they stepped through, and Emma was distinctly aware of the fact that she was being scrutinized by everyone.

''Gold,'' a harsh voice barked out, and a stout, scowly looking old woman nudged the young waitress aside, taking her place at the counter and fixing Gold with a hard look. ''Rent's not due for another week.''

''I know that, Granny,'' Gold said smoothly, a trace of exasperated sarcasm in his words, ''I came to eat. You do still serve breakfast, yes?''

Granny eyed him. ''Who's that?''

Emma resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably as Granny's gaze found her.

''This is Emma, my ward.''

''Your ward?''

''She needed somewhere to stay,'' was all Gold said, and though Granny seemed far from satisfied by his answer, she shook her head.

''Well, sit down then. Show's over, folks,'' she called out to the scant number of people who were all still watching the conversation with shameless interest. ''Eat your damn breakfast.''

The waitress from before, after a few hissed words from Granny, came over to their table, looking less than pleased. ''What'll you have?'' She asked, whipping a pad out of the pocket of her astoundingly short red shorts, and raising an eyebrow at Gold.

''Coffee, black. Oatmeal, milk and sugar, please.''

''Sure. And you?''

''French toast and bacon, please. And a hot chocolate? With some cinnamon?''

The waitress Ruby, her nametag read looked up, fixing her with a curious gaze. ''That's funny. There's only one other person in this town who takes their cocoa like that.''

Emma smiled slightly. ''And here I thought I was unique.''

At that, Ruby cracked a genuine smile. ''I'll get those right out to you.'' She even let the smile flash over to Gold for an instant before she was sashaying back behind the counter.

''You'll find that there's a very small town mentality here,'' Gold said, smiling wryly. ''It never changes.''

''Why does Granny hate you?''

Gold shifted his gaze from Emma over to Granny, who was clearing plates off a corner table. ''I'm her landlord. I'm almost everybody's landlord, actually. People aren't too pleased to pay rent, and especially not pleased when they have to see me early.''

Ruby breezed by, leaving two steaming mugs on their table. Emma grabbed hers instantly, inhaling the sweet smell of quality chocolate and spicy cinnamon.

''She's right, there is only one other person who likes their cocoa like that.'' Gold sipped at his coffee. ''You'd like her I think.''

''Will I meet her?''

Gold chuckled. ''It's not a terribly large town, dearie. I'd say you'll know her by the end of today.''

5PM, Elementary School

Being in the school after hours was always a little unsettling or, at least Mary Margaret had thought so for as long as she'd been teaching.

Grading papers at home meant that there would be wine, and probably a movie, and she wouldn't get nearly as much work done as she had originally intended. Staying at the school, however, with nothing but a hot mug of tea and some leftover lasagna was a little less comfortable, and with fewer distractions, so Mary Margaret was able to concentrate all the better for it.

It was nearing five thirty, and she had hoped to get to the hospital before visiting hours ended at eight it had been at least a week since she'd last stopped by John Doe's room. It had become a ritual of hers, ever since she had learned of the comatose man, all those years ago...it was horribly sad that he was alone there, nameless, and reading to him had always brought her a little bit of comfort, like maybe he was listening somewhere inside, and would feel more inclined to wake up if he knew someone was out there speaking to him.

But that was the mind of a romantic, which Mary Margaret had always been. There were worse things to be, she supposed, taking a sip of cooling tea and writing a smiley face on one of the papers. Two more, and she was done.

Mary Margaret always tried to pick assignments that she would enjoy reading, but even the topics she loved could grow dull, especially if her mind was wandering, and she added a few lines of constructive criticism to the last paper, before stacking it neatly atop the rest with relish. Oh, her back hurt standing, she winced as blood rushed back into her legs and her spine stretched out into a straight line again from its uncomfortably curved position. Gathering her coat and bag, Mary Margaret deposited the papers in her drawer to be handed out the next day, and picked up her dirty dishes. The overhead lights were off, which only left her desk lamp to be flicked off, and then the classroom door closed and locked behind her. Her boots clicked loudly against the long hallway, stopping briefly as she entered the teacher's lounge to dump her dishes in to the sink before she was on her way again, exiting the school and breathing in a lungful of fresh air, shutting her eyes briefly.

Jane Eyre was in her bag again it had been good last week, just approaching one of her favorite parts, and she couldn't bear to switch it out for anything new, though she had been reading Doe the same book for weeks in a row.

From the school, which sat a few blocks off of the main street, it was a ten minute walk to the hospital as were most things in Storybrooke. It was a good town not to own a car in, or at least Mary Margaret thought so. Owning a car was less expensive, too the only thing she was dreading was the cold of the late autumn and winter. Walking would probably lose most of its charm when she had to wear heavy snowboots everywhere.

Turning onto the main street and avoiding a large puddle of water in the middle of the sidewalk, Mary Margaret began to hum to herself, nodding and smiling at Archie Hopper as they passed each other, and then nearly jumping out of her skin when a large clanging echoed across the street it was a grand sound, impressive and almost pretty. And, Mary Margaret realized with a sort of puzzled shock, it was coming from above her head. More specifically, from the clock tower across the street, the one that had stopped working long ago, before she'd ever moved here.
How funny that someone would fix it so suddenly and she couldn't remember ever seeing anyone work on it. Maybe they'd done it the previous night. It certainly hadn't worked yesterday, nor could she recall hearing it on her way to work or in the classroom that morning, though it would be a miracle if any outside noises made it through the constantly chattering voices of her kids.

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret continued to walk, her heart still a little fluttery from the sheer surprise the sound had brought on. As she passed Granny's, an irate looking Regina Mills was just going in, and she eyed Mary Margaret with such contempt that it could almost be felt burning through her coat. They had never been the best of friends the Mayor was purely terrifying at times, and thus Mary Margaret tended to avoid her but blatant hatred wasn't usually Regina's style. It was certainly shaping up to be an odd afternoon. A breeze blew Mary Margaret's scarf around, and the hospital was a welcome sight as she neared it.

Whale's idea of quiet rest was supplying David with the local paper, and a pencil, and orders to 'read up and finish the crossword', neither of which David particularly wanted to do he was going stir crazy in his own skin, the room a dull, monotonous blue around him, and the hospital pajamas uncomfortable. He ached for a hot shower and his own clothes whatever they might be.

David hadn't been lying, per say, when he had said he didn't remember anything. He didn't, not really nothing that made any sense to him on any level.

He remembered feeling cold wind stinging his cheeks, as if he were stuck inside a whirlwind of some sort. He remembered the damp earth beneath his palms, and feeling dizzy as though he'd been hit over the head. He remembered the cars rushing by on the highway, and the damp drizzle of rain that had been blanketing the forest that day.

What he hadn't said was that he remembered crying the sound of a baby's impatient squall, and the distinct feel of a warm bundle being pressed into his chest. By whom, he couldn't remember. He caught flashes of dark hair in his memory, and a sweet voice murmuring into his ear: he said it would be on her sixteenth birthday. What's sixteen years when you have eternal love?

I will always find you.

It made no sense, but every word he could remember brought a clench to his chest, one that he couldn't describe other than to say that it felt like he was in pain, like he'd lost something utterly precious, but he couldn't place it.

Sighing, David scrawled something into thirty four across, head jerking up as someone rapped politely on the door-frame. He'd been expecting Whale, and was fully prepared to wheedle a shower, clean shirt, and bag of takeout from the man when he registered exactly who was standing there, and his heart skipped.

It wasn't Whale, obviously. Her hair was dark and cropped short, her skin pale, and she was biting her lip a little nervously. She had a book bag slung over one shoulder, and a pink scarf wrapped around her neck. ''Er, hello, Mr. Nolan.'' She smiled at him, and David stared like an idiot for a few seconds, before blinking.

''Hi,'' he set the paper down, resiting the urge to rub his eyes. ''Come in.''

''My name is Mary Margaret,'' she said, stepping fully into the room and holding a hand out for him to shake. ''I volunteer here...I've been reading to you for a while now, when you were...''

''Asleep,'' David supplied, when it was clear she was uncomfortable saying 'comatose'. ''Please, pull up a chair.''

She did so, smiling a little wider at him as she sat, resting her bag near her feet. ''I came today to do the same, I usually get around once a week or so, but then Doctor Whale said you'd woken...and I really hope I'm not disturbing you, I'm sure you're disoriented, and I can leave - ''

''No!'' David cut off her rapid words quickly, as her brow had begun to furrow and there was no way David was letting her leave now, not when his heart was fluttering like a teenager and she appeared to be the first truly wonderful human contact he'd had since waking. ''No,'' he repeated, softer. ''Please don't. To be honest, I was getting a little lonely here. Whale hasn't been by in a few hours. Not that he's great company or anything.''

The woman Mary Margaret chuckled. ''I'm sure you've been asked this already, but well how are you feeling?''

David broke her gaze for a moment, glancing down to his hands that were curled in his lap. ''Well,'' he laughed a little bitterly, ''I remember my name. That's something.''

A smaller, paler hand came into his field of vision, hesitating its movement for a moment before settling on his forearm. ''Don't worry,'' Mary Margaret said soothingly, ''it'll come back.''

He looked back up at her. She looked utterly sympathetic, her eyes sad and full of compassion.

''I hope so,'' he whispered. Clearing his throat after a moment, he cracked a grin. ''For now, I could use a real shower, and maybe a plate of food. Whale let me have pudding earlier, and some tea. I feel like I could eat an entire kitchen.''

Mary Margaret laughed again it was a beautiful, tinkling sound, like music, and David felt his heart swell.

''Maybe I can talk to him for you,'' she said, glancing over her shoulder as if to make sure Whale wasn't lurking behind her, before leaning in towards David conspiratorially. ''He likes me.''

Of course he does. You're perfect.

''So, Mary Margaret, what do you do?''

''I teach third graders.'' She shrugged, a flush coming to her cheeks. ''Not very glamorous, I'm afraid, but I enjoy it. Most of the time.''

''It sounds very nice.''

To her credit, Mary Margaret didn't ask 'what about you', like she probably wished she could hell, David even wished she could, but the more he thought about what he had been before appearing in the road all those years ago, the more his head hurt.

''Mr Nolan?''

This time, it really was Whale rapping at the door, looking not at all surprised to see Mary Margaret still there. ''David, I need to check your vitals.''

David nodded, and Mary Margaret stood. ''Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Nolan,'' she said with a smile, shouldering her bag again.

''Please, it's David.'' He gazed up at her, half hoping he didn't look as completely swept away as he felt, and part of him hoping that he did, because this woman was clearly amazing, and there was something at the corner of his brain tingling, like he was supposed to know her, but didn't. He didn't think they knew each other, surely she'd have said something, but it didn't shake the feeling of familiarity that filled him as he looked into her face.

''David,'' she tested, reaching out to pat his shoulder. It didn't feel nearly as awkward as Mayor Mills' had. ''I'll stop by soon.''

''Goodbye.''

Whale prodded him and listened to his heart for a good five minutes before pronouncing him fit, and clearing him for a light dinner. No burgers, no grease, no large portions. It was better than nothing, David mused fifteen minutes later, toweling off from the shower and pulling a plain Hanes t-shirt over his head. He wasn't allowed to leave until the next morning, and so a nurse had been sent to pick him up something from one of the local restaurants.

When he arrived back upstairs, it was sitting on his bedside table a bag containing some freshly sliced strawberries, a carton of yogurt, and a bowl of still warm stew. A Styrofoam cup rested next to the bag, which had a note under it.

Taking a sip from the cup hot chocolate, interesting David looked over the note.

'Get well soon, David xoxo Granny's'

Granny's that was the name of the diner. Had he known one of the girls there?

Shaking his head, David put the note in the empty bag with a small smile, and went about eating his small meal.