Chapter Seven: At Home in a One Horse Town
Settling into Arcadia proves more difficult than even Emma imagined, and she had never expected it to be easy. Always before in her life, she had landed in full, bustling, nonstop city environments; standing on a back porch where she can't see another building, nothing but dry grassland stretching out to meet the horizon as far as her vision carries, is oddly lonesome – even for a perpetual loner. It is so quiet that Emma can hear the wind making low, mournful howls around the walls of the old farmhouse now meant to be their home. The boredom and the itch to run press in on her with shocking intensity. She had mistakenly thought that this type of aching wanderlust couldn't really exist outside the clichés of a country song, but apparently the wide open spaces are real, and they aren't made for someone like her, who needs to lose herself in a crowd to feel at home.
Yet after a month, when Henry – now Jamie White – has been registered for kindergarten and no further overt threats have come, she starts to feel a bit less antsy, a bit less ready to jump out of her own skin. Instead, Emma tries to find comfort in what is good. Henry loves his new surroundings, thriving in the open air and space to run. He has never needed much to entertain him, and he is as happy by nature as Emma has always wished she could be. Between his vivid imagination, innate curiosity, and the doting attention of Emma, Ruby, and Killian, Henry has truly begun to come out of his shell, easily sensing that he is the center of three peoples' interest and affection. It isn't at all unusual to find both he and Ruby running through the enormous back yard which stretches all the way down to a creek at the bottom of a gentle hill. Henry careens along, hands trailing through the tall grass, or simply lies down and rolls like a log down the incline as Ruby has shown him, both of them giggling all the way to the base of the slope.
In all honesty, Emma owes both of their assigned protectors more than she can express for how genuinely kind and nurturing they are with her son. It is their job to keep Emma and Henry safe, to give their lives if it came to that, but no one makes them listen to Henry's made-up stories or repeatedly read aloud to him from his favorite books. They aren't paid or awarded anything extra for Jones getting down on all fours on the living room floor and letting Henry ride on his back while he roars and snarls and she and Ruby run from them shrieking and cackling at the chase. If nothing else, despite all that has happened, and her floundering in their new surroundings, these two agents make it seem that she and Henry are just a little less alone in the world.
By the time October rolls around and the cool, re-invigorating crispness permeates the air, Emma is settling into this drowsy little place and the slower life she now leads, with her little boy safe and happy and her two new friends watching their backs. Their entire new identities still feel a bit unreal and the trial looms ahead at some indeterminate time in the future, but those start to be the only things keeping her off balance and unsettled. Emma is hesitant to admit – for fear of losing what she has – that the rest of her life is as good as it has ever been. They all find a sort of rhythm, a pattern emerging as they go, joining the swing of what normal people do with their days.
Emma still nearly cries and certainly pulls Henry closer, holds onto their hug a bit longer, some mornings when he and Ruby leave for school. She cannot help thinking how close they've come before, how precious her little boy is, and how quickly something good can plunge into a nightmare. Letting her son out of her sight seems to be the fastest way to bring the horror of Graham's murder and their harrowing escape from Vegas squealing back to the forefront of her mind. But Henry is growing up, no matter how much it doesn't seem possible, and she has to let that growth happen.
"Come on, Jamie," Ruby says affectionately, standing at the screen door and offering her hand to him once Emma lets go. The new name for her little boy – and the way he immediately responds, as if he's already cheerfully shed the old and taken on the new – does make one tear run down her face. She wipes it quickly, before her son can look back, and waves him off with the brightest smile she can muster.
By unspoken agreement, Ruby has become Henry's primary protector – always taking him to school in the morning and picking him up in the afternoon – and Killian Emma's. Though Emma would have once protested, she knows the arrangement suits everyone. Henry seems completely charmed by his lovely friend, and Ruby is no less adoring of her young charge. Emma had questioned Killian about it once, when they were all home for the evening and Henry continued to follow on Ruby's heels jabbering nonstop. She didn't want him to get on Ruby's nerves, and she wanted the young woman to have a break and time to decompress if needed. Killian had only grinned at her rakishly and dismissed her fears. "Can you not see that my partner is mad about your boy?" he had asked, his rich accent nudging at her good naturedly. "If he was not already glued to her side, Ruby might just follow him around. Ruby has always loved kids – she is a big kid herself."
After that, Emma had conceded that he was right and finally let herself stop worrying. Her new life as Margaret White is quieter than she is used to, but there is also more peace, more laughter, more warmth and companionship to this life. She sometimes misses calling Henry by name, or nearly forgets and signs 'Emma Swan' on documents before catching herself and remembering her new identity, but she'd much rather be safe with her son and see him content than hold onto a name and a more exciting lifestyle.
She had finally told Henry that Graham would never be coming to meet them here in their new home. Stumbling over her words, choking on tears, and not stating any of her explanation as clearly or calmly as she had rehearsed, Emma still managed to break the news to her little man. His tears over his adopted "papa" had raked over her insides, but at least it was finally out in the open. There had been no way she could let him keep asking when "Papa Graham" would be joining them, waiting for a reunion that would never come. She had kept it simple, but made it clear that Graham had been trying to take care of them and do the right thing. The man that Henry had grown so attached to did not want to leave them, but some bad men had hurt him and he died. For several days afterwards, Emma had watched her son for signs that he was confused or wasn't handling the loss, but though he was sad, he seemed to bounce back remarkably well. Better than she had herself. Emma's heart had truly swelled when she'd tucked him in a few nights later and her baby boy had caught her hand before she could leave. "Mama," he whispered. "I still love Papa Graham, even if he's not here. If you're sad about it too, I'll help you 'member him…"
Blinking back quick tears, she had smiled shakily and pulled him into a tight, grateful hug. "Thank you, Buddy. I'd like that," had been the only response she could manage.
Henry had seemed appeased after that, and soon he had closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
There are certainly still times when she misses Graham with an ache in her chest that she tries to dull in other pursuits, choosing new hobbies for herself anytime she needs distraction. It does not do for her to dwell on the first man who had ever seemed ready to stay, to hold onto her despite her flaws and hang-ups, because all she can remember now is the end. He was taken from her brutally instead of leaving, but the end result, of her left alone once more, is the same.
When she jolts awake in the wee hours, from some nightmare of the life leaving Graham's eyes, or of someone snatching Henry from her, or aiming a gun at her little boy instead, Emma sits gasping for air, staring into the dark, afraid to go back to sleep. Those nights and early mornings, she finds herself wrapping a comforter around her body and padding barefoot over the wood floors of the drafty old farmhouse, down the stairs to the comfortable den in the place's back corner.
She doesn't know how the man manages it, but more often than not, she finds Killian Jones there, awake as well, almost as if he knows she needs the company and has been waiting on her arrival. The first time she ran into him on such a sleepless night, she had been embarrassed to intrude and tried to sneak away unnoticed. However, he had already seen her and would have none of it. Beckoning her over, he had insisted she stay. "We might as well be sleepless together," had been his reasoning. They'd talked until she wakened the next morning to the sunrise peeking over the horizon and light trickling through the window blinds, her head pillowed on Killian's shoulder where she must have leaned against him and finally gone back to sleep.
Eventually, her natural guardedness was completely worn away. The more she gets to know Agent Killian Jones, the more Emma believes he knows exactly how she feels and why she is the way she is. Maybe it's the loss of his brother and the fact that he too has no family left. Maybe it's the sad, distant look that takes over his devastating blue gaze at times, as if he is seeing some place or people long gone and far away. She knows it well, knows her eyes often take on that expression too – the look of an orphan.
Suffice it to say, life is not perfect. There are still moments of fear and doubt. There are times when Emma can be shopping at the local grocery with the others, cart stopped to peruse the different varieties of an item, when someone comes up the aisle quickly from behind and her breath stalls, waiting for a rough hand to grab her, fearing the familiar voice of one of Spencer's men telling her she has been found, her luck has run out.
However, most days begin to look like some sort of country idyll, the type of life she read about in Tom Sawyer or Anne of Green Gables when Emma was a kid herself. Her son is living just the sort of life she would have wished for him; having never experienced anything like it herself, she wouldn't have even known what it looked like if they weren't here now. It startles Emma completely the day she realizes that, strange and improbable as it might be, she has found a family.
At first laughingly and mostly to indulge Ruby, Emma begins to go to the local animal shelter to volunteer with the younger agent. They both, and Henry too, find it fun as well as fulfilling and begin to go every Saturday, bathing and walking the stray dogs there. When all of them leave for the day, it gives Killian a catch for some quiet, to read or simply relax, as well as await Agent Nolan's weekly call to check in and apprise his field agents of any developments in the case.
The two women and little boy generally come tromping back into the farmhouse dirty and wet, after wrestling muddy dogs, hoses, and buckets of soapy water for an entire afternoon. Emma's cheeks usually ache from smiling and laughing so much and spending the whole way home trying to convince Henry why they can't take every dog in the place home with them – getting very minimal support from Ruby on the subject. Yet, when they walk through the door, Killian's eyes light up at the sight of them, in a way that Emma can't help but believe would not be much different even if they really were his beloved family coming home to him for the night. She doesn't dare speak a word out loud, doesn't even dare acknowledge she is thinking like this to herself, but Emma treasures that look and watches for it to cross his face, her insides warming whenever it does.
She is contemplating adopting one of the shelter dogs for Henry's birthday as a surprise present – but she doesn't want to let Ruby in on the secret just yet. Henry's mid-November birthday is still more than a month away, and though Ruby may be an adept FBI agent, she is a horrible secret keeper and has a surprisingly terrible poker face in everyday life. She is likely to let the surprise slip to Henry too soon in her excitement. Apparently, the Lucas family had owned a whole pack of dogs when Ruby was young, growing up on a working dude ranch in Wyoming. She jokes sometimes that she's half mutt herself, and though she only mentioned it once, Emma knows the younger woman misses her own rescued shepherd mix back in Boston. Ruby had said that her landlady accepted that she simply "travels a lot for her job" and allows the neighbor an extra key to care for Pete when his mistress is away.
Emma had run it all by Killian though, during their most recent late night talk. Unless they were suddenly called back in because the trial was starting, which they had no sign was occurring in the near future, he saw no harm in it. The next time they were at the shelter, Emma had snuck a moment to speak to the woman in charge and begun to fill out the necessary paperwork. The puppy would have his shots and be ready to go in time for Henry's birthday.
The days have truly begun to blend together in a pleasant autumn haze. For the first time, as November arrives, Emma's mind turns to Thanksgiving with anticipation. Usually she focuses her energy on Henry's birthday until the holiday that celebrates gratitude, family, and a place to belong has passed for another year. This year, she has people to observe the occasion with and be thankful for. Emma finds herself wanting to put together a Thanksgiving meal with all the trimmings for her little boy and the two people who have given up so much for her and Henry's sake – something she has never done, not even with Graham. The two of them, and Henry, had often spent the day together, but never treated it that differently from any other day, apart from perhaps having turkey sandwiches and slices of pumpkin pie for supper.
If she's honest with herself, Emma knows she is not much of a cook; she hardly knows where to start or if she will make anything more than a mess, but Emma vows that she is going to attempt a true Thanksgiving feast. She'll find recipes, try them out, and master one thing at a time until she can surprise them all with a perfect, traditional meal. She's not sure what has come over her, or where this giddy anticipation has come from, knows it's nothing like her usual demeanor, but she simply cannot wait to see their faces on Thanksgiving Day.
All of that is pushed to the back burner the following Saturday when she, Ruby, and Henry return from the shelter. Killian meets them on the porch, his face stark, somber, and completely devoid of the look she has come to wait for and love upon their return.
To his credit, Killian doesn't keep them in the dark. Meeting Emma and Ruby's questioning glances, Killian waits only until Henry has run past him into the house with a quick, happy greeting, before returning his gaze to them and relaying what he has learned. "David called. We'll have to go back to Boston before Thanksgiving. They need time to find us a safe house there, for you to prep with the attorneys, before the trial begins at the start of December. Apparently a rush was put on it. Rumor has it Gold might have been getting suspicious; no one wanted to chance him running or being able to destroy evidence that could be used against him."
Ruby merely nods, snapping back into laser focus and asking all the right questions. Emma can only stand there between the two of them, listening and nodding along, wondering how – though she has known this was coming – it can feel like the whole world has shifted under her feet once again.