Chapter Forty-Nine

He groaned when he heard the knock at his door. After waking up that morning, it had taken him nearly an hour to shower and force some clothes on. Being able to sit back down again at his desk, in front of the typewriter that he no longer seemed to have the time for, had been a relief so intense that he had nearly wept. Now, after only two minutes of sitting, he had to get back up again.

He grabbed his stick and hefted his body off of the chair, gritting his teeth so hard that he heard his jaw click. If it was housekeeping and they simply hadn't wanted to use their key, that stick might just become a weapon.

But he opened the door and caught a flash of blonde. He blinked.

'Emma,' he said. 'What are you doing here?'

She held up two cups of coffee. 'I promised I'd be a better friend, remember? Can I come in?'

August took a step back from the door, forcing his weight onto his back leg. 'Sure. Make yourself at home.'

Emma slipped past him, reaching the centre of the room and then turning back to face him. She watched as he shut the door, suddenly noticing the wooden cane gripped in his right hand.

'Where did you get that from?' she asked, gesturing with one of the cups. August shuffled back towards the desk, reaching out for the outstretched coffee as he passed by.

'My dad,' he said through gritted teeth as he lowered himself down into the chair. As soon as he was seated again, the pain ebbed slightly. He sighed, leaning the cane against the desk and lifting the coffee to his lips.

'Marco?' Emma asked, grabbing a second chair from the other side of the room and dragging it over to him. She sat at the end of the desk, crossing her legs over. 'You've been spending time with him?'

'Yeah,' August grimaced as he shifted position. 'When the pain started getting worse, I knew that it was a now-or-never kind of situation. I've been helping at his shop. He made this for me when he saw how it was getting harder for me to stand on my own.'

'August, that's great,' Emma said, before she paused and added, 'Well. Not the pain part. But you're spending time with your father – that's amazing.'

'Yeah,' August said, smiling. 'It's good to get to know him, finally. He's teaching me all about woodwork, and I've shown him some metalwork stuff. He'd never used a soldering iron before. It's… it's really great to be able to speak to him again, after all this time.'

Emma smiled sadly. 'Even if he can't remember you.'

'Yeah,' he shrugged. 'That's not ideal. But you know all about that, too.'

Emma pressed her lips together. 'Are you still helping him now?'

'Sometimes,' August said flatly. 'Not as often as I'd like. Even if I can drag myself there, I'm not always much help. But he comes to see me sometimes too, so it's not too bad.'

Emma looked down at the cane. There were swirls and symbols engraved all the way along its length, and at the very top was a whale, elegantly carved to make the handle. Two small, blue gems made up its eyes.

'August, I'm so sorry.'

'It's fine,' he said, raising his coffee to her. 'Things can still change. Miracles can happen.'

'Well,' Emma said, leaning forwards. 'Maybe not miracles. But I guess things sure are changing.'

August narrowed his eyes, which were the only part of him that still reminded Emma of the leather-clad enigma that had roared into town a year ago. They flickered even now, stunningly blue against his greying skin.

'What do you mean?'

'I didn't come here to talk about this,' Emma said quickly. 'Really. I came to see you and to spend time with you. I don't just seek you out whenever I have Regina-related anxiety and forget about you the rest of the time.'

August's face creased with a smile. 'Noted.'

'I mean it, August,' Emma said, biting down on her lip. 'I know I've been a crappy friend, but that's not what's happening here.'

'I know, Emma,' he said gently, reaching out to touch her knee. 'It's okay. Really. So, tell me – what's she done now?'

'She hasn't done anything,' Emma said, automatically defensive. 'Things are actually great. Better than ever.'

'Okay,' August said, raising an eyebrow. 'But…?'

Emma swallowed, glancing down at his leg. Hidden beneath the inky denim was the wooden leg that was causing him so much agony, and the thought of it made her shudder.

'Her magic came back.'

Immediately August sat upright, nearly knocking his coffee over.

'What?'

'Not… permanently,' Emma clarified, wrapping her hands around the coffee. It was nearly summer again and the sun was streaming in through the windows, but other than when she woke up from a nightmare, sweating and reaching out for Regina's hand, she only ever seemed to feel the cold. 'It happened twice. She's tried to get it to work again since then, but it doesn't come when she wants.'

'So when does it come?'

Emma closed her eyes. 'Well. The first time, we were... in bed, and we said that we loved each other again. For the first time since…' She coughed, leaving the sentence where it was. 'She said that she felt a rush, and then her hands were suddenly hot. And they burned me.'

'What?' August blinked. 'Are you okay?'

Emma waved it off. 'It was nothing serious. It didn't even leave a mark. But obviously she got really freaked out, and then it happened a second time and now she's just sitting around waiting for it to happen again, or waiting for the curse to break. No matter how good things are with us at the moment, any time I kiss her I can feel her tensing up in case it's the one that finally does it.'

August looked down at the thin tendril of steam that was leaking from the opening of his coffee cup. 'Does she think that you'll leave when the curse breaks?'

'No,' Emma sighed. 'The opposite. She thinks that I'll stay, and then me and Henry will both be in danger.'

'Ah,' August said, leaning back in his chair. His spare hand rested absent-mindedly on the head of his cane. 'I see.'

'I get why she's worried,' Emma said. 'Obviously when everyone remembers what she's done, it's not going to be pretty. I'm not stupid, and neither is Henry. I just wish that she would stop thinking that she has to deal with that alone.'

'She doesn't want you to help her?'

'No,' Emma rolled her eyes. 'She wants me and Henry to leave. She wants to keep us safe until it's all blown over.'

August blinked.

'She is in a land without magic,' he said slowly. 'But can somehow use magic when you're with her. Right?'

'Sort of.'

'And she wants you to leave?' August asked incredulously. 'How does that make sense? Surely you're the best bet for everyone's safety if you somehow bring her powers back out again. Especially if she doesn't want to use them for anything bad anymore.'

'I know, I know,' Emma groaned. 'I've said all that, but she doesn't care. She doesn't want to put us at risk. And I've told her that I will leave, if it comes to that, but… it seems crazy to me. I get wanting to keep Henry safe, obviously, but me? I'm just as much a part of this as she is. I'm the Saviour, and the chances are that I'll be the one who's broken the curse. Surely if anyone can protect her, it's me.'

She waited for August to agree with her, and to tell her exactly what she should do, just like he always did. But he had fallen silent. Emma looked up from her coffee cup to see that he was watching her with a strangely wistful expression on his face.

'What?'

'Is this it for you?' he asked. When Emma merely blinked, he said, 'Regina and Henry? Are you in it for the long haul with them?'

The question didn't make Emma's chest tighten with panic like it once would have. Instead, she felt her features softening, her cold body no longer needing the warmth of the coffee cup she was gripping onto quite so badly.

'Yeah,' she said. 'They are. They're all I want.'

'Tell me why.'

'Why?' Emma frowned. August nodded, and she considered the question for a moment, tracing her finger around the lid of her drink.

'I just… I love them. And they love me. Regina's the only person I've ever known who just wants to see me happy. She doesn't get anything out of it – she just likes to see me smile,' she sighed. 'There's no bullshit with her, and – ironically, I know – I've never trusted anyone like I trust her. Because she told me the truth, and no one, not even the Evil Queen, can actually be evil if they sacrifice everything they love and hold dear in order to tell me that. She's a good person and I'd do anything to stop her from getting hurt again. I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that doesn't happen.'

A smile came over August's face that was so pure it almost broke Emma's heart. 'Wow. I never thought I'd hear you say that.'

Emma could feel her cheeks turning red. She took a quick sip of her drink. 'I know. I've gone soft.'

'It seems like it,' August chuckled. 'Look, Emma. I can see where Regina is coming from – obviously she's wracked with guilt over what she's done, and what she's put you through, and so the knowledge of what might be about to happen once the curse does break is obviously going to eat away at her. If anything did happen to you or Henry, she would never forgive herself.'

'I know,' Emma frowned. 'To her, if she let me and Henry go and at least kept us safe, it would feel sort of like redemption. She would be the only person taking the fall for her actions and maybe then she could start to feel like…'

When her voice faded out, August finished for her. 'Like she deserves you.'

'Yeah,' Emma swallowed. 'Exactly.'

August knew there was something more that she needed to say. He could see her thin lips pursing, trying to form the words in a way that at least one of them might understand. So he leaned back and took a sip of his coffee, patiently waiting for her to make sense of the jumble of letters inside her head.

Eventually they came tumbling out. 'I'm not leaving her.'

August watched her steadily. 'Not even if she tells you to?'

'No,' Emma said, and it was the firmest word she'd ever spoken. She realised then that she'd known she wouldn't go anywhere from the first moment that Regina had asked her to. 'I told her I would, but I can't leave her alone, August. She's a good person, and I love her too much to let her do this by herself. We're a team now; her, Henry and me. I'll just… I'll work out a way. If it's my fault that the curse is going to break, then I'm sure as hell not going to let her go down with it.'

August raised his eyebrows. 'Honestly, Emma – I don't doubt it. If anyone can make that work, it's you.'

Emma looked up at him in surprise. 'How so?'

'Well. You managed to turn the Evil Queen good,' he said, smiling slightly. 'You opened her heart again. You let yourself believe in fairytales, and you're probably going to break the dark curse without even lifting a sword. You don't slay dragons to get where you need to go – you have light magic. If anyone can fix this, it's you.'

A half-smile tugged at Emma's lips. 'You're overselling it a bit. I just want her to be happy.'

'Well,' August let out a small groan as he stretched his leg. 'I really wouldn't worry too much about that. I think you've got it covered already.'

'For now.'

'Or forever,' August said, his eyes suddenly serious. 'If all you want is to keep her safe and keep her happy, then show her that. She might have asked you to leave, but it's not what she wants.'

'I know,' Emma sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. 'The problem is, she's so fucking complicated. I never know what she does want.'

There was a long pause before August said quietly, 'Yes, you do.'

And Emma smiled because, of course, he was right. As always.

'Yeah,' she said wistfully. 'I do.'

'You can do this, Emma,' August said without a trace of irony in his voice. 'I'm sure of it.'

'I'll get back to you on that.'

'I can't wait,' August said before he reached down to tap his leg. 'Tick tock, though. Time waits for no puppet.'

'Have you decided what you're going to do about David?'

Mary Margaret looked up from the salad that she was making. Emma was perched on her usual stool at the breakfast bar, grating a mound of cheddar for the macaroni cheese they were making together. Falling back into their old relationship – or as close to it as they could get – had been a tentative process, and a week after their talk Emma still found herself tiptoeing around her roommate like she couldn't remember how to be near her anymore. Mary Margaret had sensed this, and had decided to ignore it – Emma was coming back to her, however cautiously, and the best thing that she could do at this stage was to let her take her time.

Still, she thought to herself, eyeing the mischievous smile on Emma's face, I could do without the meddling.

'Not exactly,' Mary Margaret said, focusing on the tomatoes that she was slicing up.

'Going for denial?'

'No,' Mary Margaret said, raising her eyebrows. 'Just trying not to think about it.'

'That sounds like denial to me.'

'Since when did you become the relationship expert?' Mary Margaret asked. 'You're having a morally dubious secret affair too.'

'My girlfriend isn't married though,' Emma shot back, grinning. 'That's a key difference.'

Mary Margaret scoffed, grabbing another tomato. 'Just a psychopath.'

'That depends on who you ask.'

'Well, definitely not you,' Mary Margaret said, smiling now. 'You're biased. Delirious from too much sex.'

'And you aren't?'

There was a pause, and suddenly the joking tone had vanished. 'Not at the moment.'

'Oh,' Emma faltered. Ignoring the constant, nagging voice at the back of her mind shrieking that's your mother that's your mother that's your mother, Emma asked, 'Are you two having problems? You know – beyond the obvious.'

Mary Margaret lifted her eyes. 'Do you really want to know?'

'Of course I do.'

'It's just…' Mary Margaret lifted her chopping board and tipped the sliced tomatoes into the salad bowl. 'We're together. But we're not. I'm with him, but only under a million terms and conditions and only for minutes at a time. If Kathryn doesn't go out during the week – which she usually doesn't – then I can only see him if we can arrange to meet at the store or at the animal shelter or even just on the street. It's… not enough.'

'Do you love him?' Emma asked gently.

Mary Margaret shrugged. 'Probably. To be honest, I'm deliberately not asking myself that question.'

'I can understand that,' Emma smiled. When Mary Margaret's expression remained despondent, she carefully added, 'This has been going on for a long time now. Longer than Regina and I have been together.'

'I know,' Mary Margaret groaned. 'But you know what it's like in this town – time doesn't really seem to move. It feels like we've only been sneaking around for a week.'

Emma forced herself to keep a straight face. 'Yeah. I guess that's true.'

'And… I don't know. I'm sick of the sneaking around, but I don't think I'm tired enough to actually end it.'

'Do you see things changing any time soon?' Emma asked. 'Do you see him deciding to leave Kathryn?'

Mary Margaret sighed. 'No. Not really. But I don't see me deciding to leave him either.'

She fell quiet, reaching out to the bowl of grated cheese that was sitting by Emma's elbow and taking a pinch.

'I'm just tired of having sex in a car,' she said. Emma felt herself wince.

'That's understandable,' she said, slapping Mary Margaret's hand away when it reached out for another handful of cheese. 'I know that when Regina and I were first starting out, having to sneak around behind Henry's back was really difficult.'

'And mine,' Mary Margaret said with a smile.

'And yours,' Emma agreed. 'But we made it work.'

Sadness flickered over Mary Margaret's face once more. 'I guess true love always finds a way.'

'You still believe in true love?'

'Honestly Emma,' she sighed. 'I have absolutely no idea anymore. It used to seem so obvious, but now it's like… what if life isn't that straightforward? What if we're actually wrong for each other and, after all this, I could just end up alone?'

'You can't think like that,' Emma said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. 'Don't lose faith. We both know that relationships aren't as easy as Henry's book says they are – there are always going to be obstacles that need overcoming.'

'I know,' Mary Margaret said. She let out a long sigh. 'I should look at you and Regina for hope.'

There was a pause.

'There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.'

Emma laughed. 'We have plenty of problems too, Mary Margaret. Trust me on that.'

'Oh, I don't doubt it,' she said. 'That's why you're a good example. You're still together, and you're still happy, even though I know it can't have been an easy road. That's pretty amazing. If two people as closed-off as you can manage it, surely I can too.'

Emma raised her eyebrows. 'That was a very thinly veiled insult.'

'You know what I mean,' Mary Margaret said. 'It's inspiring. I have far more confidence in your relationship than I do in my own right now.'

Emma's mind flicked through the pages of Henry's book, where Snow White and Prince Charming were the very embodiment of happily ever after, and she let herself smile. She squeezed Mary Margaret's hand.

'I have a feeling you'll be okay.'

'Will we?' Mary Margaret asked, taking another pinch of cheese out of the bowl. Emma let her. 'I don't know anymore. I just feel like… if you've already found the person you're meant to be with, surely it shouldn't be this hard to actually be with them? You shouldn't keep getting pulled apart. Maybe the universe is telling us something.'

'Or maybe you just have to fight harder,' Emma said. 'Show the universe that you really want this and you're not going to quit just because it asked you to.'

As she said the words, she suddenly realised the full weight of what they meant: just like Mary Margaret couldn't – and probably wouldn't – give up on David, Emma wouldn't give up on Regina. Not now, not ever. Not even if Regina dragged her to the town line and pushed her over it herself.

She had Regina. Now she had to keep her. It was suddenly, strikingly simple.

Mary Margaret saw the flash of understanding that crossed her face. 'Everything okay?'

Emma's eyes were on the wooden counter, frantically ticking from side to side as they played catch-up with the thoughts ricocheting around her head.

'Yes,' she said, eventually looking back up again. 'Sorry. I think I just had an epiphany.'

'Will it help me?' Mary Margaret asked miserably. Emma frowned.

If the curse breaks, everything will go to shit. That much is for certain. But Snow White will be back with her Prince Charming again. If you need another reason to do this - there it is.

'I'm not sure,' she said slowly, glancing out of the window at where the sun was just beginning to dip in the pinkish sky. 'Maybe.'

By the time that Emma had reached the town line, the sun had almost set.

She parked her car at the side of the road and made her way towards the border. The line that she had drawn in the dirt when she had been here with Regina had long faded, but she could remember exactly where it had been placed. When she reached it, she gently lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the dirt with the toes of her boots grazing against the invisible boundary.

The sky turned purple as the sun began to dip below the trees. In her lap, cradled between her crossed legs, Emma rocked her walkie-talkie from hand to hand.

There was a whole world directly ahead of her; one that she might never have the chance to see again. For someone who didn't like to sit still – someone who had had seven addresses, now eight, in the last 10 years – the notion should have been terrifying. The world had once swallowed her whole, and this was the first time that she'd ever considered climbing back out.

Her cell buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket, knowing it would be a text from Regina before she had checked the screen.

I know you said you were having dinner with Mary Margaret tonight, but can I tempt you into coming round for a nightcap after?

Emma smiled, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. But she didn't reply. She read the text over and over and, God, how she wanted to go round there. It didn't matter what she was doing, Regina just had to snap her fingers and Emma would be there in a flash. But now, a tiny thought was scratching at the back of her mind, burrowing deep into her brain, and for once she refused to let herself get distracted.

She sighed, and put her phone away.

The shadows were getting longer, stretching towards her like fingers, and Emma reached up, her hand automatically finding the swan necklace that she'd worn every day since she had been released from juvie. That had been the first day of those 10 years: the first day of drifting, and running, and refusing to grow roots anywhere except inside the footwell of her own yellow bug.

Emma reached under her hair, finding the knot at the ends of the waxed string, and slowly untied it. When the necklace came loose, the string held its shape.

She dangled the charm before her eyes for a moment. The last decade had taken its toll, with tiny nicks scarring the disc's edges. The black background was cracked in places, and the swan itself, which has once been a glossy silver colour, was tarnished and dark.

She stared at it, twisting her hand so the necklace gently rotated. Why have I been wearing this for so damn long?

She knew why: because what had happened with Neal was an old wound that she hadn't let close. Because she liked to torture herself a little bit, not letting herself forget all the shit that had happened to her even though, for the most part, she was over it. It was exactly what she had done with Moe – months later, even though her injuries had long healed and all that had been left over were a few repetitive nightmares, she forced herself to remember the pain on a daily basis, simply because she didn't quite want to be rid of it yet.

Did she still miss Neal? No.

Did she still love him? Absolutely not.

Her gaze drifted past the necklace and back to the road ahead, where a thousand different towns lay just beyond her reach. She could step over the town line whenever she wanted, and no one could come after her – she knew that.

But she also knew that wasn't what she wanted anymore. Where she'd once sought out solitude, finding refuge in her own company and the fact that no one else in the entire world had the means to truly hurt her again, she'd now discovered what it felt like to be comforted by the exact opposite. She was surrounded by love, and by family, and by the constant terror that it could all be snatched away from her any moment. And it was worth it - no matter what happened, she knew that she wouldn't give up a single second of it.

It was right here, in this tiny, frozen town, that she'd found everything that she'd ever been looking for. As Emma looked out across that invisible line, at the road that she'd probably never drive down again, she realised with surprising clarity that there was nothing left for her out there anymore. She had been running for most of her life, and now that she had stopped and allowed herself to sit for just a brief, quiet moment at the very edge of her world, she realised that there was nothing left that she wanted to run from. She was where she needed to be.

It was the most simultaneously comforting and terrifying thought she'd ever had in her life.

She scrunched the necklace up in her fist, feeling the bite of the cheap metal against her palm, and threw it across the line. It didn't go far, skidding to a halt in the dirt barely five metres away, but the sight of it there, far enough away from her that she could no longer feel the gentle pressure of it against her chest, made her feel miraculously lighter. She leaned back on her hands, letting her fingernails scrape against the dirt, and watched as the shadows got longer.

Eventually, when the sun had set completely and the necklace was nothing more than a dark spot on the ground, she pulled the the walkie-talkie from the dusty ground between her legs. She pressed down on the call button and listened to the familiar crackle.

'Henry?' she asked. As expected, there was silence.

She waited another minute before repeating herself. 'Henry? You there?'

Balancing the cumbersome device between both of her hands, Emma leaned forward, her elbows digging into her knees, and waited for him to respond. She knew there was a good chance that he wasn't in his bedroom – he spent the majority of his time downstairs now, and rarely carried the walkie-talkie with him like he once might have. But she had a feeling that he would answer. She sat the contraption upright in front of her, exactly where the town line would have stretched, and waited. She could hear the crickets beginning to stir.

And then the crackle came. 'Emma?'

She picked up the walkie-talkie and held it to her mouth. 'Hey, kid. You okay?'

'I'm fine,' he replied. 'Are you?'

'Yeah,' she said, surprised by how calm her voice was. 'Are you alone?'

'Yes…' Henry said. She could picture his crumpled brow. 'Why?'

'I have some Operation Cobra business. I need your help.'

Immediately, her son's voice perked up. 'Really? What is it? Where are you?'

'That's not important,' she replied, looking at the road stretching out ahead of her. 'Look. I have a question for you.'

'Okay,' Henry said. 'Shoot.'

'This is… kind of weird,' she said, nervous laughter bubbling through her words. 'But I guess… you're the man in Regina's life, right?'

'Right…'

'And you're definitely the most important person in her life.'

'I guess,' Henry said. 'Emma, what's happening?'

'I need to… ask your permission. To do something.'

There was a pause, and again Emma felt her son's forehead scrunching up. She heard the exact moment when he registered what she meant.

'You're… you're sure?'

'Yeah. I am.'

'I'm not her father, Emma.'

'I know that,' Emma said. 'But I want your permission anyway.'

There was a smile sparkling in Henry's words when he said, 'Okay. Go on – ask me.'

Emma took a deep breath.

'Okay. Here goes.'