Part 2: There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters

"MM, what's wrong?" Emma barrelled into their dressing room, finding her sister haphazardly tossing dresses and undergarments into her carpet bag.

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered back, eyes down. A clear sign that it was something; Emma could always tell when someone was lying, especially her own flesh and blood.

"Then why did you dash off away from a perfectly nice man?"

Mary Margaret glanced up, giving Emma a warning look that confirmed her suspicions. "Emma, come on; our train leaves in less than an hour. Pack up."

As directed, Emma began folding her clothes and putting them away. But she wasn't going to drop the issue, especially after the night she had. She'd been skeptical of Killian's attentions at first, but after dancing with him, she could tell he was a gentleman (a fact he'd assured her of a number of times). And there was something exotic about him, with his British accent and worldly air. She loved that she got to see so much of the US as a performer, but craved more—more that he had seen and was reflected in his sea-blue irises. To be honest, she was a little frightened by how quick she'd warmed up to him, but that was concern for another day. When it came down to it, he and David both seemed to be genuine, good men, and that was hard to come by in this day and age.

But ever since their parents passed away, Mary Margaret, being a few years older, had gotten it into her head that Emma had to be put first. She was grateful, but it meant that far too often, Mary Margaret ignored her own needs.

And she needed a man.

(Obviously not "needed"—they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. But there needed to be someone else in her sister's life that wasn't her.)

"David was quite handsome, wasn't he?" Emma ventured. A small smile crept across Mary Margaret's face, but no farther. That was enough for Emma. "Did you get his address?"

"Well, it'd be pretty hard to correspond with someone who spends all his time at sea." She could tell her sister was trying to be nonchalant, but Mary Margaret tried too hard and betrayed her true feelings; more than a little disappointment tinged her voice.

"Is that it? That's why you're all in a tizzy, avoiding him?"

Mary Margaret swallowed. "It just isn't the right time. Maybe when I'm done with school."

"Mary Margaret! That's ages from now!" Seriously, her sister's ability to come up with any excuse to not see someone was incredible. Emma had past heartbreak to attribute to her emotional walls—being left at the altar will do that to a person—but Mary Margaret had no such experience. She was always too worried about Emma to have any. "When will you realize that I'm fine, and I don't need you to be a mother hen about me."

"I never said it had to do with you." Her sheepish tone said otherwise.

"It's been implied." Emma closed up her suitcase and walked to the other side of the room, where Mary Margaret was packing up their makeup, and wrapped her arms around her sister. "I just want you to be happy, M&M." The childhood term of endearment seemed to warm Mary Margaret up a bit.

"That's all I want for you, too," she said, patting her sister's arm. "But right now, I want to get out of here and onto that train. Granny will kill us if we miss it."

Emma glanced at the time. "Oh, goodness, you're right." Quickly, they finished packing and hopped in the cab waiting to take them to the station.

The chug-chug-chug of the train had become a comfort to Mary Margaret over the past few years on tour; it was almost to the point that she couldn't sleep without the gentle rocking of the rails.

But here on the top bunk of their sleeper car, with Emma lightly snoring below her, she was wide awake. Emma's words from earlier and a pair of bright blue eyes kept bouncing around her head.

It was true that she often put Emma's needs above her own, but she'd promised her parents that she'd take care of her younger sister. And she'd failed miserably when it came to Neal; she should have known that no-good scamp would manage to get arrested on his wedding day. At least he hadn't had the chance to take down Emma with him.

But the whole experience had made her cautious. And she really didn't need any distractions—she WOULD be a teacher. All their hard work was aimed at that singular goal; she wasn't about to up and get married and become a wife, like so many young ladies did nowadays. She wasn't judging, but that wasn't for her.

David, though...Emma was right, he was perfectly nice. And sweet. And intelligent. And handsome. And independent. But almost too much. Ever so briefly, she had let herself start falling for the sailor; she couldn't help it, really. That is, right until he told her about his last relationship. She could identify with the struggles of being away, but she couldn't give her heart over to someone who might abuse it in the long run. She did want love, eventually, but she wanted real love and not just a fling.

Over the next couple days of their journey, she mulled over her stance on relationships, and Emma's a bit, too. More than once, Emma had mentioned Killian as they sat in the club car, catching peeks of ocean panoramas as they sped through the mountains. Emma had her fair share of short-lived romances since Neal, but they were just that: short, and she knew Emma did that on purpose.

But if her sister was open to letting someone in again, maybe she could give it a try.

The trees grew denser and the air colder as they traveled farther north into Maine, and soon they were at their stop. It would still be an hour's drive to Storybrooke, but just being close was enough to give them new energy.

They had barely stepped off the train when a melodious voice sounded. "Yoohoo! Swan Sisters! Your carriage awaits!"

"Ruby!" they shouted simultaneously and ran toward their friend. A chorus of squeals broke out at their reunion, drawing stares from passers-by, but they didn't care. "Oh, it's been so long, Ruby! How have you been?"

"Oh, same old. Life doesn't change in Storybrooke; you know that. But you! You cut your hair! And Emma...I know that look. We need to talk boys."

"Uh, no we don't! There's nothing to discuss." As was so often the case with her, Emma could admit her feelings to anyone but herself.

"Right. Which is why you kept talking about Killian the whole trip here? He's nothing?" They may be grown, but she could always tease her baby sis, and relish the bright red embarrassment on Emma's cheeks right now.

"Ooh, Killian? I like the sound of that. Grab your stuff and then let's chat!" Knowing Ruby and the bold, red, wolfish grin on her face, Emma was in for no less than the full 20 questions. Which was probably why she dove for the backseat of Ruby's big, bright red Ford sedan.

Thankfully, no such interrogation happened, as Ruby was more curious to hear about their adventures, hanging on their every word as the told her about the towns they'd performed in from coast to coast.

"You sure you don't need an extra stagehand? Costume manager? I gotta get out of Storybrooke, girls; throw me a bone!"

Emma scoffed. "And what would Granny do without you?"

"Oh, she'd be fine. Pleeeease take me with you." Ruby was whining now.

"Granny would most certainly NOT be fine without you. Who else would hold her back from shooting the idiots with her crossbow?" Everyone in Storybrooke knew not to cross Granny; that was one of the many reasons Mary Margaret loved the woman.

"True," Ruby agreed with a giggle as the town came into sight. Just as she said, it didn't change: the same storefronts, the same houses, the same people. They waved at old friends as they made their way down the main drag toward the inn. Both peeked at their childhood home, which they'd let out to renters in their absence; it looked well-kept, to their relief.

And there, on the outskirts of town under a thin blanket of snow: Granny's Bed & Breakfast. The main building held rooms and a diner; the big barn out back was home to the horses, and also to the sleighs that got used each winter. Growing up, the girls spent just as much time here as they did their own home, playing with Ruby and helping run things during the War.

The car's tires crunching on the gravel sounded their arrival, and Granny rushed out to meet them. She had more white in her hair and wrinkles on her face than when they'd last seen her, but she was just as spry as ever. Her stern reputation was well-known; she was tough to begin with and her time spent in Europe, on Allied front lines, had made her harder yet. (She'd never fully admitted to just what she was doing there; when prompted, she said she ran a mess hall, but that seemed too obvious.)

But to the Blanchard girls, she was a surrogate grandmother and caretaker, and one of the sweetest women they knew. She was whip-smart but loving and had a way with a crossbow; she'd do anything to protect all of her girls. When she went overseas, the Blanchards stepped in to oversee care of the inn and Ruby; when the Blanchards died, she returned the favor.

"Oh, my girls, you're home at last!" she shouted with open arms as Emma and Mary Margaret ran to hug her. "Don't stay away so long next time, you hear?"

"We'll try, Granny," Mary Margaret assured her. "It's good to be home." Just standing in Granny's warm embrace was enough to calm all her jumbled thoughts and nerves.

"Granny, you're going to crush them if you don't let go soon, and then I'll have to perform for the guests. Which means I'LL have to sing, and no one wants that!" Ruby yelled as she pulled luggage from the boot of the car.

"Don't even joke about that, Ruby," Granny warned as she released the girls, who could only laugh. "Now come on in and let's get you settled in a room; you must be tired from the trip. I'll send some food up."

"We're fine, Granny," Emma assured her, but both knew that went in one ear and out the other. They settled into a routine over next the few days of rehearsal in the morning, spending the afternoon either in town or riding horses through the woods, and then performing at night before retiring to Granny's plush beds. Even though they were working, it was a much-needed respite from the chaos of the past year—and a distraction from any lingering thoughts of a certain gentleman Mary Margaret had met recently.

But of course, fate had other ideas. She and Emma were eating lunch at Granny's counter, listening to a bit of Ruby's gossip on former classmates, when two snowy figures came into the diner.

"Excuse me miss, we'd like to inquire about letting a room." Emma stiffened at the familiar, accented voice, who had just taken off his hat, as had his companion. Two sets of blue eyes almost immediately fell on their green ones.

"Swan," Killian said with a smile and a wink. "Fancy seeing you here."

Emma blushed. "I see you took my advice, Jones."

"Aye, that we did."

Ruby watched their exchange with a gleam in her eye, but Mary Margaret found herself staring at her plate, purposely avoiding the heavy gaze she could feel coming from David's direction.

"Oh, we can definitely arrange something," Ruby announced far too eagerly, and went about getting lodging for the boys, giving Mary Margaret a wink as she dashed off.

Killian sidled up to Emma and they began exchanging pleasantries, which apparently was David's cue to approach. Mary Margaret took a deep breath to calm her suddenly racing heart before looking up at him. All you have to do is be nice; it doesn't have to be romantic.

But then she looked at his face—lit up with a pleasant smile—and knew she was a goner.

"How was your trip, Mary Margaret?"

"It was fine. And yours? You sailed, I take it?"

"Yeah; we hit a rough patch of sea near Boston, and Storybrooke was a little hard to find, but otherwise smooth...uh, sailing."

They both chuckled at his awful pun before an easy silence settled over them—nothing like their first encounter. Maybe it was the relaxed setting, or maybe it was the honest joy in his eyes, but something here felt genuine and real, and like it could develop into something more.

"I heard you the first time, Ruby; now hold your gosh-darn horses," Granny's irritated voice sounded as she emerged from the back. "I hear you boys are looking for a room?" she asked the newcomers, with Ruby following her, a devious grin on her face. Oh no; that almost always meant trouble for the Blanchard girls.

"Agent Lucas?" Killian seemed to be shocked at the sight of Granny, and after a moment's pause, stood stock-straight and saluted, a motion David echoed.

The three girls' jaws dropped, while Granny blushed—actually blushed—for a second before regaining composure. "At ease, boys," she commanded, staring them down as they relaxed. "'Agent' doesn't get any use 'round these parts. It's Granny here."

"Wait, you know each other?" Emma regained her voice before Mary Margaret or Ruby could to ask the obvious question.

"Yes; Agent...er, Granny Lucas was on our ship as, um…" Killian trailed off when Granny focused her sternest stare on him.

"She ran the mess," David supplied unconvincingly.

"Yeah, that's right, mess. Best lasagna I've ever had!" The guys were terrible liars, but they could tell that part of the conversation was, sadly, over.

Satisfied, Granny handed over a key to David and pulled the large guest book from under the counter. "You boys will be in room 305, and I trust I don't have to give my usual lecture regarding funny business?"

"No, ma'am," came the simultaneous, solemn response.

"Room 305? Why Granny, that's right next to the girls in 306!" Ruby exclaimed, and the mischievous glint in her eye told Mary Margaret that it was anything but coincidence.

Before she could glare at her meddling friend, David spoke up. "Then I guess we'll be seeing each other around."

"Yeah, I guess." Her heart rate picked up at the very idea. "If you ever have any questions about the town or anything—"

"I'll find you." It was only a few words and a shy smile but somehow, they carried so much weight.

As they performed that night on the diner's small stage, she caught a glance of David in the audience, watching with awe and—though she could easily be mistaken from the glare of the stage lights—a bit of adoration. (She definitely saw the way Killian was staring at Emma and could practically see the hearts in his eyes.)

She'd scarcely ever let herself dream before, but with David? She couldn't help but hope.