Part 5: And May All Your Christmases Be White

A/N: Well, this fell to the backburner, but it's finally done! (Just shy of Christmas in July...for those of you in the middle of summer, maybe this will help cool off!)

In the chaos following their announcement, Emma lost track of her sister. She was hoping for a moment alone to talk to her, but Mary Margaret seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

Killian, of course, picked up on it right away. "You alright, love?"

"Yeah, fine. Just can't find my sister."

"She'll turn up."

Honestly, it surprised Emma how easy it was to convince everyone that they were actually engaged. Maybe it was because she knew it wasn't real and that made it all the easier to throw herself into the charade; or—and this thought scared her—what if they naturally looked the part of the happy couple? In the few days she'd known Killian, he made her far happier than any man had in ages, possibly her whole life. But marriage? So soon? No thanks.

They only had to keep it up long enough to get Mary Margaret and David together. But David had also vanished from the scene, so she could only hope the two of them were together somewhere.

After obliging the crowd with a few more kisses (which she couldn't say she minded in the slightest; as she'd discovered that afternoon, Killian was quite talented in that department), they took a turn about the room, searching for either half of the wayward couple. But neither was to be seen.

"Do you think they turned in already?"

Emma glanced at the clock; 10 pm. "There's always the chance with Mary Margaret; she's never been a night owl."

"Neither has Dave. Goodness, they were made for each other." They shared a brief but concerned giggle.

"Mingle a bit more and then head up?" she suggested.

"Aye."

Ruby, to everyone's chagrin, had managed to sneak some mistletoe in this year and was playing some twisted kind of Cupid, hanging it over the unsuspecting heads of various people, and Emma and Killian quickly became her favorite target. (Ruby had partaken no small amount of alcohol, either.) Emma introduced Killian to the remainder of her hometown friends (he was going to get on famously with Belle, she could tell), before both exaggerated their yawns and announced their retirement.

Up in the hallway between their rooms, Killian held her hand tight before she could get too far from him. "Emma," he said, almost reverently. "Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time again."

"Me too." Unprompted, she moved back into his space, and reached her free hand up behind his head, gently tugging down toward her. But he pulled back ever so slightly, eliciting an involuntary frown from her.

"We don't have an audience anymore, Swan; you don't have to."

" I want to." She did—she truly did. No, she didn't want to marry him at this very moment. But for the first time in a long time, she could see it in the future again.

Once more, she pulled him to her, and softly kissed him goodnight. It wasn't as heated as their moment this afternoon, nor as deep as the ones they did for show, but far more genuine and meaningful for her.

They broke apart slowly, keeping their foreheads touching. Something about that simple connection felt so intimate to her and she hated to separate for the night, but they had to.

As if he read her mind, he spoke up. "Good night, Emma," he whispered, then nodded toward the door, "and good luck."

"You too," she softly replied with a gentle smile. She stepped back, gently squeezing his hand before letting go, and quietly slid into the room.

Mary Margaret was already in bed, tucked in, facing away from her. "M&M?" Emma whispered, unable to tell if her sister was still awake or not, but no response came. "Mary Margaret, I…" she started, knowing it was probably fruitless to say anything if her sister was asleep, but feeling the need to anyway. "I know we always talked about the act breaking up someday, but I guess we always figured it'd be later rather than sooner. But now…" She swallowed as the finality of what she was saying hit her. "Now, you're free to pursue whatever...or whoever...you want."

She looked over at her sister's still form. Of course, she's passed out cold. I just monologued to no one. But, just in case, she added, "I love you. Good night."

She thought she heard a sniffle come from that side of the room as she got in bed, but Mary Margaret was still unmoving, so Emma figured she was hearing things. They'd talk in the morning.

Across the hall, Killian was undressing in awkward silence as David sat in bed, staring at nothing.

"I don't think Agent Lucas would take too kindly to your burning a hole in her rug with your stare."

David blinked and looked up at him, as if pulled from a trance. "Sorry; I was just thinking."

"About?" Killian had seen David with Kathryn tonight; could that be part of the problem? He wouldn't put it past David to still be wrestling with feelings, despite what he said.

"I just...I wonder if there's such a thing as true love."

Killian sighed internally; David wasn't usually one to doubt, save for when it came to this. His mother had raised her sons to value love above all things, which was admirable, but David sometimes overthought it. (Not in the case of Kathryn, of course, but he probably was right now.)

"I once felt as you did, mate," Killian started, thinking of his recent breakup. But then he thought about the rollercoaster of emotions he'd been on today, and smiled. "All it took was meeting the right person, and everything changed."

"Emma?" David asked.

"Aye," he replied, honestly. Whatever they had was just starting, but he knew it was no passing fancy.

He could see David considering what he said, and smiled the moment he saw a look of resolve on David's face. "Thanks, Jones. Good pep talk."

"Anytime, Dave."

With anyone else, Killian would hope they took his advice, but with David, he didn't have to worry. For the first time in a long time, he went to sleep eager to see what the next day brought—for everyone.

Mary Margaret got an early start the next morning, per usual, and was down in the diner with her breakfast and a stack of papers she was carefully filling out. If Emma's going to chase after her dreams, so will I.

(But, she had to admit: her heart wasn't fully in it.)

"M&M, what do you have there?" Speaking of. Emma propped herself on the adjacent stool and, ever the little sister, peered down on the forms. "College applications?"

Mary Margaret had gotten them from the library with Belle's help yesterday, to the University of Maine, Boston College, and Michigan State College—all schools with great education programs. She had planned on saving them for a rainy day, but what had happened yesterday morning with David and then last night with Emma and Killian prompted her to do it now.

"Mary Margaret, what's going on?" She didn't want to look up at Emma, knowing what she'd find on her sister's face. But she did, and was right: confusion mixed with heartbreak. She sighed and put her pen down; she hadn't wanted Emma to know about this until she had replies from the schools. Should have known that wouldn't happen here.

"Yes, Miss Blanchard, what is going on?" Granny had appeared with Emma's usual breakfast, followed closely by Ruby, and was giving one of the looks that all the girls hated to receive: the one where she knew they were in trouble but wanted to hear it from them first. No wonder she was an agent in the war.

"I'm…" Say it, Mary Margaret. This is what you want. It's not that hard.

(So why am I hesitating?)

"I'm doing what you told me to do, Emma: I'm pursuing what I want." Emma's face fell even further; the placating hand Mary Margaret had placed over hers seemed to do nothing. "You're going to have the adventure of your lifetime with Killian, so now it's time for me to do this, like we've always talked about."

Emma's brow furrowed and she gave an accusing look that Mary Margaret hadn't seen since she "borrowed" a doll when they were kids. "That's only part of it and you know it. You're doing what I always do: you're running."

"Running? Running from what?" She tried to scoff, but even she could tell it was forced.

"Seriously, girl?" Granny wasn't believing it, either.

"What? I'm not about to give up everything I've hoped for just for some...some guy."

"No one is saying that, M&M," Emma told her.

"But you're the one who brought up the guy," Ruby added with a smirk.

She glanced at the three knowing faces in front of her. Dammit. She knew she'd been beat.

"Fine! Yes, okay, I'm also doing this so you will all stop pushing me toward David, because it's not going to happen," she confessed. She knew she should feel better by saying that, but she just kind of...ached.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard." She was startled; Granny hadn't used her full name, and in that lecturing tone, since she was in high school. "I've never known you to back down from a challenge or take the easy way out. Why back out now when you've got a chance at love?"

She gulped involuntarily. They were right; they were so right. Despite whatever happened yesterday, she still felt an attraction to David, and that kiss had to mean something. He was the one who sought her out last night, too, and she knew she wouldn't be this upset if he didn't mean something to her. She sighed. "I guess if true love was easy, we'd all have it."

Emma leaned toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, weren't you the one who always told me that believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing?" They'd had a much-loved storybook when they were kids with that same inscription; whenever the going got tough, Mary Margaret would repeat it for the both of them.

"You're right," she conceded. She looked at her little sister and thought of her own announcement last night, smiling. "It seems to have worked for you."

Emma looked down guiltily. "Yeah, um, about that…

Mary Margaret's smile quickly fell away. "Oh, no, Emma, is something wrong?" After I warned Killian and everything!

"No, nothing like that; it's just...um, we're not really engaged."

"What?" she gasped, shocked. ("Looked real to me," Ruby whispered to her nodding grandmother; Mary Margaret agreed—she'd been equally convinced.)

"We just said that so you and David might get together; so you wouldn't feel obligated to look after me and would feel free to go after him. That's what I was saying to you last night."

She couldn't believe it. Played by my own flesh and blood. I guess she learned sometricks from Neal. "Seriously, Emma? You thought you could trick me like that?"

"We were just trying to help—"

"No, you were trying to meddle and manipulate. I can't believe…" Suddenly, everything last night made sense: the partner switching, their shared looks; hell, they were probably the ones to send David into the kitchen after me! Her emotions went reeling, and before the room did, too, she had to get out.

She hopped off the stool, disturbing her applications in her wake and making a beeline for the door. "I've gotta get some air; I'll talk to you later."

She ignored their pleas, and the falling snow, as she let the door behind slam her and she ran.

David had practically herded Killian out of their room and down to the diner that morning; he was that desperate to see Mary Margaret. He still didn't know what he did to make her so angry at him last night, but he was going to get to the bottom of it, and at the very least apologize, if not more.

Killian's brief speech last night had helped David realize that what he felt for her, even after only a few days, was more real than anything he'd had with Kathryn, and he'd be damned if he let her get away.

So his heart sunk to his stomach when they finally got downstairs, only to see Emma and the others staring at the door, its bell still clanging in the aftereffects of a violent closure. Emma turned to them abruptly, her eyes seeking out Killian's, and David could see they were rimmed with tears. Killian hurried to her side.

"Emma, what is it? Where's your sister?"

"She's gone—"

"She's gone?" David cut her off, shouting—not intentionally, but out of fear. No, no, she can't go! Without another thought, he too ran out the door, heading to the stables. Maybe I can catch up to her, wherever she's gone, on horseback.

The stable doors were wide open, and thankfully, it was warm in there—he hadn't really thought through the whole running-outside-in-snowfall thing. But there was no time to waste. He took a brief moment to shake the snow from his hair and stomp it off his shoes before striding down the aisle to find a steed.

He'd barely gone a few yards when he found himself face-to-face with a snow-white horse and stopped in his tracks. "David?"

Mary Margaret was just behind it, holding the bridle. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" She wasn't as closed off as she was the night before, but he could tell she was wary.

"I will always find you, Mary Margaret."

"Well, that's a little bold of you," she replied with a slightly mocking tone and a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

"How else is Prince Charming supposed to get the maiden fair?" She rolled her eyes, but he was pretty sure the blush on her cheeks wasn't just from the cold.

But then, she was no-nonsense again. "Seriously, David: why are you out here?"

"To find out what I did wrong and apologize. I had thought, after our kiss, that maybe…"

She interrupted, with her eyes cast down. "Yeah, I know. I thought that, too. But then I saw you with that blonde woman, and you kissed her, and—"

"Who, Kathryn?" She looked up at him, confused at his familiarity, apparently. So that's what happened! "Kathryn is my ex-fiancee; when you saw us, we were just closing that book. Forever," he added, to emphasise the finality.

"Oh." She seemed to be absorbing it, so he continued.

"Yeah; she's found someone else."

"I see." Mary Margaret swallowed. "And...have you?"

"I just told you who I found."

I took one second for her to realize what he'd said and two for her to launch herself at him, grabbing the labels of his collared shirt and bring his lips to hers. He was vaguely aware of the horse snorting and trotting away, but was too absorbed in pouring everything into that kiss to care. He knew he'd never kiss anyone else again; this must be what True Love's Kiss feels like.

Finally breaking apart for air, they leaned into each other and he pulled her tight—partly to keep her warm, but mainly just to hold her. They just stood there for a moment, breathing each other in, until she started to giggle.

"What's so funny?"

She looked up at him, laughter in her eyes. "I guess Snow White found her Prince Charming after all."

Any sensation of cold went away; her smile filled him with warmth, and he leaned down for another kiss, eternally grateful that he'd let himself get talked into coming to Maine in the first place.

"Well, I'd say that worked out, love."

Killian stood in one of the diner's front windows, watching the scene unfolding in the stable, with Emma tucked close to his side. (He could blame their close proximity on the small size of the window, but they both knew that wasn't it.)

"I think it did." She hummed in agreement and glanced up at him, a soft smile on her face. They were close enough that she could probably hear his heart racing, but he didn't care.

"I don't mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team."

"And why would that upset me?"

"Well, that plan worked wonderfully. Perhaps we could take up business—"

"Shut up and kiss me."

He was momentarily taken aback by her bluntness, but he certainly wasn't one to complain. "As you wish."

The falling snow on the other side of the glass was a picture-perfect backdrop to their picture-perfect kiss. Who knew that getting stabbed in the shoulder would eventually lead him here?

It was all worth it for this white Christmas...and hopefully many more.