Scenes From Season 4: Chapter 2
GRANNY'S DINER
LATER THAT MORNING
Emma and Killian slid side-by-side into a booth. Almost immediately, his stomach growled in response to the scent of frying bacon that wafted through the air. He raised an eyebrow at her smirk and whispered into her ear, "I simply cannot imagine why I am so famished."
"Well, look who's decided to come up for air!" Granny plopped two plates piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast on the table in front of them.
Emma blushed, but Killian bestowed her with a dazzling smile. "Ah, Milady Lucas! You do know how to capture a fellow's heart."
Granny harrumphed and rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep a smile from her lips.
"Hey! Those are ours!" Leroy, sitting with Sneezy, bellowed from two tables away. Sneezy sneezed in aggrieved solidarity.
"Oh, hold your horses," Granny snapped back. "Clearly they're in need of sustenance more than you are right now. I'll bring you out some in a minute."
"Sorry," Emma mouthed to Leroy after swallowing the large bite of toast she'd just bitten off. He simply glared. Sneezy sneezed again.
Ruby sauntered over to their table with two mugs of coffee and a huge, knowing grin. "About time, you two."
"Seriously, is it that obvious?" Emma asked in exasperation. She felt a blush creeping up again, but then she remembered what Mary Margaret had said about Ruby's opinion of Killian and dropped her hand to the top of his thigh. Not that she had any concerns about Ruby, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to establish her territory just a bit. He immediately stopped shoveling in eggs and glanced at her in surprise.
"Don't forget the Lucas women's sense of smell." Ruby leaned down and lowered her voice, which danced with mirth. "And hearing."
Emma did blush, then. Ruby laughed as she walked back behind the counter.
"Did you know that she's—" Killian began.
"A wolf. Yes, I know."
"I find that rather … disconcerting," he confided.
"Good."
The door opened, letting in a gust of cold air along with Mary Margaret and David. David toted the sleeping baby in a carrier, and Mary Margaret was laden with a huge diaper bag. He deposited the carrier on a chair at the end of the table, then they collapsed into the booth across from Emma and Killian.
"Granny! Coffee, I beg you!" David called.
"Pardon my saying this, but you don't look so good, mate," Killian remarked.
"Neal fussed all night," Mary Margaret said with a sigh. "We took turns rocking him so he'd fall asleep. But as soon as we laid him down in the crib, he would wake right back up and cry. All night. That's two nights in a row of that. And look at him now, out like a light. I'm so tired."
"We'd just really like some sleep," David added.
Emma shrugged and gave a little laugh. "We probably didn't get much more sleep than you did last night." Then she froze in mid-bite of her bacon, eyes widening as she realized not only what she had said, but who she had said it to. Killian was rubbing off on her.
Mary Margaret and David went still, looking from Emma to Killian with wide eyes. "Don't look at me, I didn't say it!" he protested loudly. Then, under his breath to her, "Are you trying to get me killed?"
For a moment, no one spoke or moved. Finally, Emma managed, "Um, David, is it still OK if I take your truck into New York today? Henry just texted me again to make sure I remembered to pack his PlayStation."
"Oh, yes! Yes! Absolutely!" David seized on the subject. "I checked everything out on the truck yesterday evening, so you shouldn't have any problems with it."
Emma smiled at the very "dad" behavior, but it soon turned rueful. "I think it'll be a good thing for me to be out of town and out of Regina's sight for a few days. Give her a chance to cool off."
"It'll all be fine." Mary Margaret patted her hand.
Emma wasn't so sure, but she didn't argue. Instead, she told Killian, "We should probably leave right after breakfast." He nodded.
"He's going with you?" David asked, perhaps a tad too quickly.
"Yeah," Emma said firmly.
"Oh. I mean, good. Good."
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EMMA'S NEW YORK APARTMENT
THE NEXT MORNING
They had been at the packing for several hours already. Because they'd gotten in so late the previous night, they hadn't really had time to get started then. Instead, she'd decided to introduce him to New York pizza and cannoli, and he had been every bit as appreciative as she'd hoped, calling them "food of the gods" and teasing that now he knew why she'd been so eager to return.
And then there had been other hungers to sate once they'd returned to the apartment, so nothing had gotten accomplished until this morning. Already there was a stack of boxes by the front door (including Henry's PlayStation and games), but there was still a lot to sort through, deciding what to take with them, what to ship and what to simply donate to Goodwill.
After a few more minutes, Killian let out a disgusted sigh, dropping the book he'd been holding onto the coffee table. "Do you have your powers here? Because it would be exceedingly helpful if you could" — he gestured with his hand — "simply magic everything into these boxes. You have an inordinate amount of things."
"I don't know. Gold didn't have his powers when he was here. It is the Land Without Magic, after all."
"Well, his is dark magic, and he gained it from another. Perhaps your light magic is different, since it's a part of you? Surely it's worth trying."
"I suppose it'd be good practice." She concentrated. "It's a lot harder, but … I think so." Slowly, a stack of books lifted into the air and deposited themselves into a box.
"Excellent, Swan! I knew you could!" They stood watching for a moment as the box filled with books, their movements gradually getting faster and surer. Then he asked, "How did you amass so many possessions in one year? I've never had so many possessions in 300 years! Did you rob a vast many people?"
"Of course not! I bought everything."
"Are you rich? Because then I think I might be even more attracted to you!"
"No! We just have a lot of stores here, with lots of things to buy. It's all normal stuff. Books and kitchen stuff and clothes…." Suddenly, an idea came to her. He had donned only his leather pants and black shirt that morning, but he still seemed overdressed for wrapping items in newspaper and shifting boxes around.
He cocked his head at her speculative gaze. "What?"
"I'm taking you shopping!"
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CLOTHING STORE
Killian frowned at the jeans and shirts she had pulled off the racks. "This is not necessary. My clothing is perfectly fine. And nobody has acted like it's out of place."
"They think you're a Goth. Or a cos-player. But it's not what most people wear. And I seem to remember changing my clothes in the Enchanted Forest to blend in, at your insistence, so turnabout is fair play."
He gestured toward the college-aged guy behind the front counter. "He has purple hair that stands up like a rooster's comb and a metal spike through his nose. How do I look stranger than that?"
"You don't. And you can still wear your leathers whenever you want. But it can get really hot during the summer, and this stuff might be more comfortable. I just thought you might like some other options." She dropped her eyes to the clothing she held, suddenly wondering if this had been a bad idea, if she had taken too much for granted. "I mean, you are planning on staying in Storybrooke, right?"
He read her change in mood and gently lifted her chin. "Aye. I'm not going anywhere." I won't leave you, he added silently.
"Especially without your ship. Your home." They hadn't spoken of it since that moment on Granny's patio, but his sacrifice still gnawed at her. What he had done to get to her made her heart swell and ache all at once. She blinked back sudden tears. "You gave up everything you had. The least I can do is buy you some clothes."
My home is wherever you are, is what he wanted to say, but he knew she wasn't quite ready to hear that. So he settled for "Emma, you don't owe me anything. It was my choice, and I don't regret it. I'd do it again, a thousand times."
She caught her breath and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
After a moment, he pulled away and sighed. "Well, I suppose since I've given up being a pirate, it would be bad form to continue to dress like one."
She pushed him toward the dressing rooms. "Go try them on. See what you like. And if you don't like any of them, there's a lot more to choose from."
"Would you care to assist me?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She smiled in spite of the jolt of electricity that shot directly to her center. "I think it'll be safer if I stay out here. We don't have time to get arrested for public indecency."
"Alas." He disappeared into the dressing room, and she wandered the racks, picking out a few more items that she thought — hoped — he might like.
Suddenly, he appeared beside her, practically quivering with excitement. She barely had time to think Damn! at his outfit of black jeans and long-sleeved bluish-gray henley shirt (unbuttoned, of course) before she realized he was unzipping and rezipping the jeans. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and glanced around. Luckily, the store was mostly deserted, and the clerk was busily texting. "Stop that!" she hissed. "Don't do that out here!"
He didn't seem to have heard her. "Swan, what is this metallic apparatus? It's wondrous!"
"It's a zipper. Most pants have them."
"Well, I like it very much. It's exceptionally easy to maneuver one-handed. And I can simply pull this shirt over my head. The buttons appear to be pointless."
She laughed and gave him a proper once-over. Damn! indeed. The jeans hugged his legs perfectly, and the blue tint to the shirt made his eyes shine like sapphires. It was definitely for the best she had stayed outside. "So we're getting this outfit, then?"
"It is comfortable. Though I feel I look strange. Are you sure I do not look ridiculous?" His brow furrowed. "I think that woman is staring at me. I must look ridiculous."
She glanced several aisles over. A rather attractive twentysomething brunette was definitely checking him out. Emma glared, and the woman turned back to the graphic tees she'd been perusing. "Believe me, she's not staring because you look ridiculous."
"Ohhhhhh. So she must find me quite dashing, then." He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Do you find me quite dashing in these clothes?"
There was that jolt of electricity again. She took a deep breath and pushed him back toward the dressing room. "Yes, you look dashing. But I am not feeding your ego any more right now. Go try on the rest." She shoved the other things she'd picked out at him. "Here, take these, too."
Laughing, he took them and walked back to the dressing room. She liked that outfit very much indeed.
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THE ROAD TO STORYBROOKE
TWO DAYS LATER
Emma kept sneaking glances at him in the passenger seat. Even after two days, she was still having trouble getting used to him in modern clothing. Not that she didn't approve — she definitely approved — but it was still unexpected. And, to be honest, he'd been out of them almost as much as he'd been wearing them since their shopping trip.
"You know, I've been watching you this entire time," he suddenly remarked. "I am certain I could captain this land vessel."
She glanced at him in surprise. "Wait a minute, you want me to let you drive?"
"If Henry can learn, then I certainly should be allowed," he huffed. "I HAVE been a captain for over 300 years."
"Well, first of all, Henry should NOT have been allowed, he's too young, and I'm still angry with my parents over that. And second, cars are a bit different than ships!"
He gave her what could only be described as a pout. "You don't trust me. I'm very hurt."
"Fine!" She sighed loudly. "But you have to listen to me and do everything I say."
He smirked. "I always do, love."
She sighed again, trying not to smile. "This is actually not a bad place for it, since we're almost home and there's no traffic."
She pulled the truck to a stop, put it in park and turned off the ignition, unfastening her seat belt. He undid his own seat belt and started to open the passenger door, but she put out a hand to stop him, her eyes glinting mischievously. "No, no need for that. I'll just scoot over you…." She slid from behind the steering wheel across the bench seat, turning until she was straddling him, pressed firmly between his body and the dashboard. He went utterly still — except for perhaps one certain area — and she grinned. "Now you slide over." He swallowed and complied. If she perhaps pressed against him a bit harder she actually needed to, well, who could blame her?
He shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat and she grinned wider. "That was unnecessary, Swan."
"Oh, I think it was very necessary." She fastened the seat belt across her abdomen and motioned for him to do the same. "Now, this truck is a lot smaller than a ship, so it's way more responsive. Don't turn the wheel too hard."
He took a deep breath and nodded seriously. She pointed out the gas pedal, brake and various gears, but he fluttered his hand at her. "Yes, yes, I've worked all that out."
"What did I say about listening to me?"
"Yes, alright, go ahead."
She then went into great detail about the road lines, stop signs and speed limit, knowing he no doubt had indeed figured most of it out already. Finally, she took pity on him. "OK, start 'er up!"
Truthfully, the truck's movements were a bit jerky at first, but he did adjust his reactions impressively quickly.
"You're actually doing quite well!" she burst out after a few minutes.
He gave a low sound of displeasure but kept his eyes assiduously on the road. "Such a tone of surprise!"
He was looking ahead with such seriousness. She leaned over and blew gently into his ear. He swerved sharply before regaining his lane. "Swan! You're trying to distract me!"
"I am. You can't let yourself be distracted when you're driving. Cars are dangerous. You have to focus." She blew into his ear again.
"You are playing dirty, Swan! That is not admirable."
"I thought you liked it when I played—"
The truck came to a screeching halt and Emma slammed her hand against the dashboard as the seat belt cut into her stomach. "Killian! Don't brake that hard!"
"I didn't want to drive into THAT."
Emma turned to look out the windshield and gasped. The town line lay only a few yards in front of them, and it was as if a giant wall of glass separated summer from winter. Their side was bathed in green, trees and grass in all their verdant, spring glory. On the other side of the invisible barrier was nothing but white: several feet of snow in deep drifts, leafless limbs bent low under a thick coating of ice.
They stared mutely for several long seconds, then looked at one another. What the hell had happened in Storybrooke now?