Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters of Once Upon A Time. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
"Really?" Emma rolled her eyes, annoyed but a little pleased. Her parents were sickening when they were together as it was, but overly sweet when they reminisced on how they met. She loved the story, and the way they spoke about it almost made her believe True Love really did exist, but it had become a bit of a naptime story they read to the new baby and this was the third time in two days she'd heard it. There were other stories they could tell, like their first dance together, Emma imagined that would be romantic, or their secret wedding with Lancelot and David's mother, that was a sweet one. "I can't hear the kid's name yet, but I have to hear this story again?"
"Well," David shrugged, "My son should know where he comes from."
"Are you sure you want the first thing he knows to be that his parents fell in love during an armed robbery?"
Emma found herself thinking about the violence of the moment, the way the pair started on opposite sides, or so it seemed. Her mother often spoke about the young Prince James that she had deplored the arrogance of when she was a girl, hating the prince at balls when they met, and how she knew when she saw David that she was meant to hate him, remembering those young moments, but couldn't because he'd seemed so different to the stories she told herself.
Emma knew another man that had not been anything like the stories she was being told, his imploring blue eyes so at war with the villain he was supposed to be up on that beanstalk.
"I wasn't armed!"
Emma loved how David hand hadn't moved from Mary Margaret's shoulder, like he was massaging comfort into her even while his conversation was directed elsewhere.
Ruby snorted, eyes flicking upwards in amusement but Emma got the feeling Red wasn't telling her best friend's daughter about her parents meeting, but sharing a secret with the man beside Emma. She got that feeling sometimes, a twist deep in her core, when Hook was already having breakfast at the bar stools in Granny's and Ruby was laughing at something he said, or when he and Regina shared an exasperated look over the 'Charming family.'
She didn't like that feeling, that curl of distaste, but she hated more that she could discount it as ridiculous the moment Killian's blue eyes fell on her. She knew, deep down, that Hook and Regina had worked together in the past but that Hook cared more for Cora because she'd never asked him to kill anyone for her in return for passage to his revenge, and Ruby was a staple a Granny's, as sure a fixture as the lightbulbs, they were bound to grow close if he was staying there.
Yet none of those reasons even mattered, even if he did seem to have been putting distance between himself and her not a few days ago, Emma could see the want - yearning, Regina had called it - in his eyes whenever he looked at her. And when she couldn't see his expression, like now, she could instead feel his shoulder pressed against hers, a steady weight.
Mary Margaret's baby-talk brought Emma back to the conversation as the woman clarified to her son and whatever audience was listening that their romance wasn't as twisted as it sounded. "But that's just how we met. It's not how we fell in love."
"Yeah, that was a bit more complicated." Emma got the distinct impression that her father was talking to Killian, turning to make sure the man was listening and laughing in all the right places, to make sure Hook was on his side of the debate - if that's what it was they were having - just as much as he directed the story to the baby as well. "I saved your mother's life."
Not to be outdone, nor her own agency left unannounced to the sponge-like ears of the newborn, Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes and flipped the page in the book on the table to prove she was just as heroic as her husband.
"But it wasn't until I saw my mother's ring on her finger," It was a beautiful ring, Emma always thought whenever she caught a glimpse of it on Mary Margaret's finger. It suited her perfectly, Emma thought. "That I knew in my heart there was no other woman I would ever love."
He said it so simply, so full of confidence and conviction. She was seeing it with her own two eyes and yet Emma could not imagine it. The amount of passion, of faith, the love her parents spoke of was completely foreign to her. Up until Henry brought her to Storybrooke, and she'd seen Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan break each other and love each other anyway, finding love even when all the odds were stacked against them, Emma hadn't even believed in trusting another soul, let alone loving them so deeply you'd be willing to damn it all.
It wasn't until meeting Hook, hearing his quest for vengeance was older than the Declaration of Independence, spurred by love of a woman taken from him cruelly and too soon (and then later learning he wasn't even sure if she loved him or simply the freedom he offered and that turned into affection soon after) that Emma realised how deeply and madly and passionately love should encompass a person. Danger and power both.
Mary Margaret's voice turned soft and wistful with the memory, almost reprimanding her husband for the miscommunication but qualified by the happy ending that resulted regardless of their foibles. "You should've told me then. We would have saved so much time."
"Well, could I?" David laughed, against pointedly to his one-man pirate audience. "I had to get to my wedding."
Emma laughed at how theatrical it all sounded, and redoubled her grin when Hook turned to her for confirmation he'd heard correctly. She couldn't tell if it was shock that his friend - for surely he and David qualified as such by now - had never told him that detail, or simply shock that the pair hadn't always been together. "Sorry, have I missed something? You were previously betrothed, mate?"
He was so confused. It was cute.
Ruby stole Killian's attention again. She was spouting off facts, helping Hook to understand, but Emma tightened her folded arms against her chest.
"King Midas' daughter? The man who can turn anything into gold?" Trust a pirate to care for the possibility of boundless treasure over anything else. "Why would you leave that opportunity?"
Emma smacked him. He knew why.
David, naturally, knew just what to say to turn the tone of the moment romantic again. "Well, what can I say, my heart was destined for another."
"You just had to find her first," Ruby said, laughing. Sometimes Emma forgot that the woman was literally present for most of these storybook moments between Snow White and Prince Charming. If Emma ever needed someone to tell her about them, Ruby was who she should turn to. "She ran away and was living on a farm."
That part of the story always amused Emma, knowing David's origins as a shepherd.
"That sounded like such a peaceful life at the time," Mary Margaret mused, confirming Emma's suspicion that her earlier - a year ago now - comment about a bigger house still loomed large in her mind and that said house might be on a property, with horses and birdfeeders hung in the trees. "Leave everyone and everything behind."
Beside her, Hook's shoulder jostled, she could hear it in the squeak of his leather.
Emma didn't have to turn to face him to hear the bitter chuckle and know he was thinking about her. She hated how he could blow so hot and cold at her, one minute all onboard concerning her magic and her making her own choices - the only person who truly gave her a choice in any of the goings on around Storybrooke without pushing her one way or the other - and the next he was grumbling that she was choosing wrong. Yes, it might have been cowardly to run. Yes it was selfish to not want Henry to get his memories back. Sure, it might invade Ariel's privacy to spy on her and Eric, but they were her decisions.
Hook didn't tempt her or goad her with the one thing he had so easily told her thrice before - four times if she counted the kiss at her doorstep as well - but he mentioned nothing about staying for his sake whenever he asked about it. Emma respected that at least, even if she didn't understand it considering how he'd told her his feelings before.
Perhaps he knew she'd hesitate to believe him. Perhaps he knew it would make her run faster and further.
"Like mother, like daughter." His voice wasn't bitter like Emma expected, simply amused by the similarity.
Emma said his name darkly, warning him to remain quiet. It wasn't until that moment that she realised the only person she'd revealed the entirety and the truth of her plan to was the pirate, Mary Margaret knew some of it, David less and garnered from guesses and whatever his wife told him, but Killian knew in full every detail of her escape plot.
What she didn't know was why she told him.
From the look on Hook's face, he was just as surprised by the fact, and a little remorseful that he'd spilt the secret
Thankfully, David read the shame on Killian's face and the irritation on hers, reaching over Henry to distract him with his book. To no avail, unfortunately, as Regina had overheard.
"You're not planning on going back to New York, are you?" It wasn't difficult to understand Regina's distress, the woman was meant to have custody of Henry and she'd only just got him back, but the year of false memories made it a little difficult in the legal sense and far more complicated. As far as the state of New York was concerned, Emma had always had full custody of her son.
An audience was not what Emma needed, not when she didn't have all the arguments lined up with preparation for Regina's particular brand of tirade rebuttal.
So, she did what she always did and she ran.
Her go to place was the docks. She always sat there when she was worried or anxious. Not just in Storybrooke, but in Tallahassee and even inland, she'd done the same, always seeking out the sea. Killian would probably say something about that, maybe even chuckle and mutter 'fate' or wink at her and say it aloud, but Emma didn't want to hear it.
So, instead of taking the familiar route, Emma jogged towards the park. There was water and seating there, just like at her usual spots, but she'd be a little less conspicuous.
Less conspicuous, but, it turned out, just as easy to find.
That shouldn't have surprised Emma, Killian was a pirate, he literally sought out treasure for a living. He'd be good at finding things - just like she was.
She could hear his fear just as clearly as she could hear his footsteps when Killian approached.
But just as surely as she could hear him, Killian could hear her unsaid words too.
"Don't listen to me," he started, pulling Henry's book from his satchel. Not for the first time, Emma wondered just how much he carried in that bag. Obviously enough to need it, although he never seemed to use it. Yet, Henry's thick tome fit in it too. "Listen to your son. He thought this might remind you of what you're leaving behind—your family."
"Henry is my family and I am taking him," she reminded him, "Where it's safe."
He shook his head, not disappointed like her parents had been, tired. But determined too. "The safety-first nonsense is just that."
Hook swished his coat and sat beside her, leaving enough room between them but still pressing his knee against her. It was, in that moment, as though all the air deflated from him. He was proud and sure, Emma knew, but a sad look in his eyes showed he didn't know what else he could say. His arguments hadn't been enough in the past and Hook knew it. His questioning why she was running had backfired with a silly remark every time too. He was at a loss for words and Emma could see that in Killian's expression.
Even so, Emma knew this wouldn't be his last attempt, even if he lost it. He'd follow her to convince her this wasn't right for the residents of Storybrooke, for Henry, and then he'd follow her to New York to keep her and Henry safe - the town hadn't been free of danger before and they both knew it wouldn't be this time either. She was the Savior, danger was the job.
"You defeated the bloody Wicked Witch. You defeated Pan. You broke the curse. And you keep running. What are you looking for?"
Shocked the question wasn't "why" or "when", Emma whispered her answer: "Home."
"And that's in New York? That life wasn't real." He told her, unflinching despite her rebuttals. "It was based on magical nonsense."
Emma shrugged. She was endeared by the guarantee of the city, not the reality of it. "Now we have our memories back. Now we can make it real."
"Why can't you do that here with your entire family?"
Emma fought to not roll her eyes. Instead, she grabbed Henry's book so that she could show him that while all this fairytale business was the world of her parents and their friends. This was the magic that made Henry's eyes light up, those stories in his book. They all thought it was the magic that scared her and the hope-filled book that would convince her to stay. But for her, this book was damnation, it was proof she didn't belong with the people of the town.
But that was difficult to explain, that it was the people who were her family who couldn't possibly be because she'd read about them as a kid. "I don't see my family here. I see... fairy tales. I see stories of princes and princesses. It-It's not me. I was never a part of any of this."
"Then what are you a part of, Swan?"
"I don't think I've ever been a part of anything." It wasn't sad or upsetting. It was the truth.
"You could be."
Emma scoffed. Did he really think that would work? It hadn't on him when she'd tried it. Unless it had and that was why he was parroting it back to her now.
"I ran away. It's just what I did. But the first time I did it, I had the same exact thought. I wondered, "What if I'm making a mistake? What if I miss this place?""
He sat there, silent, drinking in her stories, prompting more of them. "Did you?"
"Not the first time. Not any time." There was genuine understanding in his eyes when Killian nodded, Emma supposed he would know the feeling, having been alive for more years than she could count. Then again, he had his ship. He never had to miss a place because he always had his home with him. "I learned something a long time ago, Hook. Home is the place when you leave, you just miss it. so, yeah, I'm gonna keep running until I feel that."
"So you're just gonna leave your parents, then. Do you even care about them, or," his head shook slightly, his exhale shaky, like he didn't want to say it. He'd done something similar in New York, throwing out the word 'regardless' as though he didn't want her to think of his feelings when she was making her decision, didn't want her to be burdened with him. "Or anyone in this town?"
"Of course I care," Emma rolled her eyes. Yes, she wasn't the most affectionate or vocal, but surely they knew, surely he could read her, he always said he could. "I just have to do what's right for me and Henry and- What the hell is that?"
Distracted by the column of light in the distance and the boom of wind that accompanied it's presence, Emma never got to find out what Hook would have said to her half admission. "I'm checking this out."
Suddenly aware of her phone in her pocket, Emma lifted the device from her belt and listened to the message David had left. He'd called a few times but only left two messages, one giving her information in a frantic tone all about Zelena's death and her accompanying time portal, and the second annoyed by the message service cutting him off before warning her that the time portal did indeed seem open and had Hook found her yet because if not then he might be in trouble.
"David left a message," she reported to Hook, leaving out her dad's worry for the pirate's wearabouts. "Somehow she died and triggered it."
His hook, silver and cold even through her jacket, curled around her wrist but Emma avoided it - she knew all about how easily he'd hook her with that thing if she let him. Emma hadn't counted on Hook's hand darting out, warm and warning on her arm. "Wait!"
For further back-up or for the portal to close itself, he didn't elaborate, instead asking: "Have you got your magic back?"
Emma blinked. That was twice now he'd asked about her magic like he was truly sorry it wasn't part of her anymore. She almost wished she could tell him 'yes' especially as he was convinced that it should have been returned with the death of the curse-caster. Henry, thank god in the privacy of just the two of them, had wondered if her kiss of Killian had been one of true love. She'd explained that it wasn't a kiss but CPR, even if she hadn't done the compressions or had to breathe too strongly to make him do it himself, but still Henry wondered if the curse was lifted and broken in one moments, and her magic remained, unwanted and hence, unaccessible.
"Well then, we're not bloody well messing with any of this!" He tugged her arm a little, getting her attention. He sounded so desperate, Emma thought, not at all the sort of man who would charge at anything, as she had thought him. "Let's go!"
But leaving was not fated for the pair, and just as Emma considered leaving the portal marked but unattended, the shed doors blew open and the pull of the portal was too strong for them to remain on their feet.
"Hold on!" Killian screamed.
Emma grabbed onto Killian's arm, both hands biting into his sleeve while his fingers wrapped around her wrist. She tightened her grip and he groaned, desperation in his eyes as he looked down to where her fingers were slipping down the leather covering his arm.
"Hold on!"
Emma gasped, terrified. She was going to slip. She knew it. Her legs were being pulled so strongly that her shoulders were popping, her ribs stretched open against the ground. It would have been a great stretch of her spine, one she would be thankful for, if not for the fact she knew she was going to fall into the unknown and that Hook's solid hook was so implemented into the soil, keeping him steady, that she would fall alone.
"I can't!" she wailed, wishing, not for herself, but that his last memory of her would not be this. Not for her own selfishness either, but so that he didn't have another woman he claimed to have feelings for die in his arms.
Emma watched it happen slowly, time standing still as she watched each threat unravel. Hook's sleeve came undone and with it, she slid through the dirt toward the gaping maw of the portal.
Things like this didn't happen in New York, Emma thought, closing her eyes to ward off the brightness as she was sucked closer, screaming even though she could taste dirt and magic and fear.
Just as suddenly as the stretch of the portal had started, Emmma crashed against solid ground, moaning as her muscles ached in protest.
"Bloody hell," a familiar voice groaned beside her, thudding just as she had.
Emma, as curious as she was hurt, craned her neck sideways to see if she'd heard correctly. There, laying beside her across the pavement, was a mound of leather. Just beyond him, the familiar shape of skyrises etched into the grey sky.
"It appears we landed in New York."
"Aye," Killian groaned.
"How?"
"I think," the leather loomed like Killian was little more than a lump, until he righted himself, dusting off his coat and looking around. "The more pertinent question to ask, love, is when."