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I wish that you would step back from that ledge my friend. You could cut ties with all the lies that you’ve been living in, and if you don’t want to see me again, I would understand.
The bay bridge was eerily quiet at two am. Like any big city, this one never slept, yet the bridge still slumbered in its own way. The occasional car whipped past with a rhythmic sound, the waves quietly lapped at the pilings. Moonlight reflected off the water, and the streetlights shone like spotlights along the edge of the bridge. And illuminated by one of those spotlights was a figure, poised on the railing, one hand grasping a support pillar. Emma approached him cautiously, pushing aside her slight irritation that she couldn’t even fling herself off a bridge without an obstacle. This was her spot, damn it!
When she reached him, he didn’t even glance her way, eyes transfixed on the water below. His fingers were white where he gripped the pillar, which made Emma wonder if jumping were really his goal. Now that she was next to him, she saw that he was about her age.
“ Whatcha doin ?” she asked softly, casually. As if she’d walked up to a classmate flipping through a magazine at school.
He turned his gaze on her, his eyes blinking slowly. His pretty blue eyes, shining with tears. Emma blinked. He was incredibly handsome, despite his clenched jaw and melancholy eyes. Or maybe because of them.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He gazed back out at the water, his thick dark hair falling across his eyes. H i s hair was messy and a little long, curling at the nape of his neck and around his ears.
Emma kept her gaze focused on his profile. “It looks like you’re about to jump. Any way I can change your mind about that?” It was one thing to consider jumping yourself. It was another to stand by and let someone else do it. So she was going to stand here and ironically convince this guy not to do the very thing she was here to do herself.
“I doubt it,” he replied bitterly.
“You look about my age. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Me too. Seems awfully young to die.”
He gazed at her again. “And yet here you are to do the very same thing.”
Emma swallowed. “You’re not from here,” she pointed out, changing the subject.
“Perceptive,” he said wryly, “and how did you gather that?”
“Not many people in Portland, Maine with a British accent.”
“Ah, I see.”
Emma climbed up on the railing herself, wrapping her arms around the pillar on the other side of her new friend, if that’s what she could call him. “Is that why you want to jump? Because you’re so far from home?”
He looked at her again with those profound blue eyes. “No, because I’ve lost my home.” He stared down at the water again, and when he finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. “I just feel so lost. I can’t . . . I just can’t do this anymore.”
“I get that. Tired of everything? Tired of the hunger? Tired of the loneliness? Tired of the fear?”
He nodded once, and their eyes held for a long moment. Finally, Emma let go of the pillar and reached out her hand.
“Jump together?”
His lips quirked halfway up in a hesitant smile, and Emma imagined that if he really, truly, smiled, it would light her up inside. Smiles that would soon be cut off by the slip of a foot. Sadness crashed over her at this realization, and somehow that emotion messed with her balance. Both feet slipped into empty air, and as her heart leapt to her throat, she realized with sudden clarity: she didn’t really want to die.
Then a calloused hand grasped her forearm. She was jerked back up on the bridge, crashing into the boy’s chest. He was anchored to the pillar where his arm was wrapped around it, and he now had his other arm firmly around her waist. She had guessed he was hungry because of his slender build, but she now realized that his chest was solid, his shoulders knotted with muscle. Small for his age, perhaps, but not weak. He wasn’t much taller than her, and when she looked up, her gaze was zeroed in on his lips. She darted her eyes up to his instead, which were bright blue from the streetlight overhead. They were also wide with shock.
“I couldn’t let you do it,” he said.
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
He somehow eased off the railing without letting her go, collapsing onto the solid asphalt. They both shook, clinging to one another, sobs w racking their bodies.
**********************************************************
“Not that one, Swan,” Killian argued.
“Why not?” she protested indignantly, adjusting the dark rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “There’s no one around.”
“The color, that’s why. Yellow attracts way too much attention.”
Emma gnawed on her lower lip as she contemplated the yellow Bug at the end of the alley. Killian playfully tugged on her ponytail.
“You really like it, don’t you?” He grinned at her. “I’ll get it for you if it’s what you really want.”
He said that all the time. The first time had been that night on the bridge. Once her tears were spent, she felt a little too raw, and much too exposed. She was also appalled to see the tears and snot that were smeared over the front of his t-shirt, so she had whispered against his neck, “I’d really like a grilled cheese right now.”
Killian had gotten her one, too. Hot, and not from the garbage can either. He simply charmed one out of a waitress at a diner on Ocean Street. Killian could charm his way into (and out of) a lot. He had a face for it. Yet the only one who could charm Killian was Emma. Or at least she liked to think so.
“No,” Emma told him now with a shake of her head, “you’re right, it’s too visible. See another mark?”
“Over beside that convenience store,” Killian said, pointing, “it’s been there all day.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “It looks like a toaster. Will it even run?”
“It can after you tinker with it ,” Killian told her confidently, “and since it isn’t much to look at, the person may even thank us for stealing it.”
He winked at her, and she couldn’t stop the warmth that spread across her cheeks. Killian Jones seemed to think she could do anything, and frequently called her “bloody brilliant” in his adorable accent. So she followed him to the rusted out Chevy, leaving the yellow Bug behind in the alley.
********************************************************
Killian had a “code” about stealing. She teasingly called him “Robin Hood,” because stealing from the rich to give to the poor pretty much summed him up. Of course, the “poor” was just the two of them.
According to this “code,” they could shoplift from nice stores, but when they went to the Goodwill down the street from where they were crashing, they needed to pay. Which wasn’t difficult considering a pair of pants cost fifty cents. All they had to do was pick a few pockets, swipe a few purses, and they could afford a pretty nice wardrobe.
It was getting cold, so today’s agenda was to find coats, hats, and gloves. Yet Emma found herself drawn to another part of the store.
She glanced over her shoulder, making sure Killian was preoccupied trying on jackets. Then her hand reached out to touch the red satin, her finger and thumb running along the lacy trim. She shuddered thinking of slipping into bed next to Killian, wearing nothing but this tiny negligee. They had found a place to stay at a run-down motel around the corner, another result of Killian’s charms. The manager there had lost a son who had run away from home, a son who Killian apparently reminded her of. If someone had shown him kindness, she said, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up dead in a gutter. She asked no questions, simply slipped a key behind the ice machine to whatever room was vacant that night. All she asked was that they leave the room tidy when they left each morning. Sometimes she’d leave food for them in the room, too.
Sometimes the room had one queen size bed, sometimes two double beds. Either way, they usually ended up sleeping next to each other. And each night, things between them escalated more and more physically. They still hadn’t gone all the way, but that morning they had woken up half naked, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Emma slid the negligee off the hanger, her mind wandering.
“Emma?”
She jumped and whirled around to face Killian, balling the tiny bit of thin fabric up in her hand so Killian couldn’t see it.
“Uh, yeah?” she muttered, brushing hair out of her face.
Killian arched a brow at her. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be getting a coat.”
“I will,” she said, swallowing hard. Her face was burning.
Killian swiped at his lower lip with his tongue. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
He grinned wickedly, grabbing at her clenched fist. She spun away from him “Show me, Swan!”
“No,” Emma giggled as he grabbed her around the waist, trying to pry her fingers open, but she yanked them just out of his reach.
“Come on, please?” he gave her his best pout, which usually worked. On everyone, including Emma, but this time she shook her head.
“A girl’s got to have some secrets.”
His eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Is the surprise for me? Because I like surprises.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, the lingerie still hidden in her tight grip. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
He kissed her in the middle of Goodwill, tugging on her ponytail. She decided right then and there; she was definitely buying that red negligee. She’d go without gloves all winter if she had to. He was worth it.
*****************************************************
When she came out of the bathroom that night in the red lingerie, the look on Killian’s face was priceless. Like he was in awe of her or something. She grinned nervously as she slipped under the sheets next to him. When he gathered her in his arms, she trembled all over in anticipation, his kisses making her core heat with want.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped when he seemed to hesitate.
“Are you sure?”
“I need you, Killian. Please.”
“I’ve . . . I’ve never done this before,” he admitted.
She cupped his face, searching his intense gaze. “Neither have I.”
He smiled tenderly at her then, kissing her with something akin to reverence. It was honestly a little awkward, mostly because Killian was so worried about hurting her, but it was wonderful, too. Afterwards, Killian fell deeply asleep, his arm wrapped around her waist, just like that early morning on the bridge.
“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered, brushing a kiss to his cheek. Then she curled up against his chest and fell into a contented slumber.
Stealing condoms wasn’t easy, but Emma knew they couldn’t keep falling into bed every night like this without protection. It had been foolish from the start, but Emma had been too turned on by that stupid negligee in Goodwill. Okay, not stupid. She and Killian were going on day four of this new phase of their relationship, and Emma couldn’t seem to get enough. So no, not stupid. Irresponsible, maybe, but not stupid. The problem was, every drug store had condoms under lock and key for some strange reason. Emma finally found a broken condom dispenser in the bathroom at the gas station, and she breathed easier knowing they were taking precautions.
Little did she know it was already too late.
*****************************************************
It was raining and the windshield wipers on the Chevy made a squeaking sound as they slid across the glass. Emma was slumped down in her seat, the belt across her lap pinching. She fiddled with the ends of her hair. Killian kneaded the steering wheel with his hands, his jaw clenching. He was brooding, and Emma wondered if it was because he had picked up on her own mood. He glanced her way, and his eyes widened when he found her staring. She dropped her hair.
“We need to talk,” they said simultaneously.
They chuckled nervously.
“Emma, I need to tell you something.”
“Please,” she stopped him, sitting up fully, “let me go first.”
He licked at his dry lips. “Okay.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat, then just blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
His jaw dropped, and he blinked rapidly, and stammered, “ Wh -what?” It was pretty much the reaction she had been expecting. They were only seventeen, after all. She would be eighteen by the time the baby came, but still.
She told him as much, fingers going to fiddle with her hair again. “I don’t know how old you’ll be. You’ve never told me your birthday. Because if you’re wondering, I’m not getting rid of it. I mean, I’m not saying I’ll keep it and be a mom, I haven’t figured that part out yet, but I’m having it. And I can’t make you stick around, I know that -”
“What?”
His eyes flashed, and Emma gulped. Was he mad? She should have considered that he would be mad.
“I’m pregnant.”
“No, I heard that. I’m talking about the last thing you said.”
Emma choked out a tiny nervous laugh. “I was sort of rambling, so I’m not sure.”
His voice was low. “You said I didn’t have to stick around. Do you really think I would just leave you like that?”
Tears pricked at her eyes at the intense look on his face. She scooted up in her seat. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, to be honest. This is a lot to take in.”
HIs face softened, and her heart stopped it s ping pong motion in her chest. He reached out and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Expect me to always, always be by your side. I love you, Emma.”
She let out a small gasp, an d now her heart was fluttering like a thousand butterflies had invaded her chest. “I love you too.”
Emma was never quite sure what happened next. A bright light blinded them. Glass shattered, tires squealed, and someone was screaming. Maybe it was her? There was pain, and blood, and . . . where was Killian? She tried to reach for him, but she couldn’t move. Then she was spinning and falling, and then there was nothing.
She woke up to a beeping sound, and a sterile smell, and the fuzzy outline of someone next to the bed. When her vision cleared, she was surprised at the smiling face bending over her.
“Sarah?”
The woman reached out and laid a cool hand to Emma’s forehead, brushing tendrils of hair back. Though part of her wanted to hold onto the reasons that she had run away from her foster mother three years ago, another part of her relished her motherly touch.
“You had no identification, sweetheart, but they found a slip of paper in your pocket with my number on it. So they called me.”
Emma managed a nod, realizing suddenly how much she hurt all over. She always felt silly for keeping that phone number, but she had never been able to bring herself to throw it out. If she were completely honest, she was relieved that Sarah was here.
“Can I see Killian?”
“The boy driving the car?”
Emma frowned. Sarah’s hand had stilled, and her voice had a strange edge to it.
“Yes, he’s my boyfriend. Can I see him? Is he okay?”
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. He . . . he didn’t make it.”
“No!” Emma cried, struggling to sit up. She had stitches in several places that pulled, a cast on her leg and an IV in her arm, but the pain of moving was nothing compared to the knife in her heart. “That can’t be right! I . . . I don’t believe it! I won’t believe it until you let me see him!”
“Sweetheart, please calm down,” Sarah soothed, pressing gently on her shoulders.
Emma shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Take me to see him. I want to . . . “ she choked out the next words, “say goodbye.” And prove to herself that he was really gone, because it just didn’t make sense. He couldn’t be, not after they had saved each other on the bridge. It wouldn’t be fair.
“I’m so, so sorry, Emma. You can’t -”
‘What do you mean I can’t?” she was getting frantic now.
Sarah’s face was tortured. “He was pinned behind the steering wheel, and they were having a hard time getting him out . . . there was an explosion. There . . . there’s nothing left. I’m sorry.”
The sob that tore out of Emma then threatened to break her heart in two.
Well he’s on the table and he’s gone to code and I do not think anyone knows what they’re doing here. And your friends have left you, you’ve been dismissed. I never thought it would come to this, and I, I want you to know, everyone’s got to face down the demons. Maybe you could put the past away.
Sarah approached the bed on soft steps, but Emma stayed curled up on the bed, her back to her foster mother. The woman eased onto the bed, then reached out with a gentle hand to Emma’s shoulder blade.
“Sweetheart, you need to try and eat something.”
Emma wiped at the ever-present tears of grief leaking from her eyes. “I’m not hungry. I told you, I’m sick.”
“I know you aren’t sick, Emma,” Sarah told her gently.
Emma bit her lower lip. Sarah couldn’t possibly know. Emma had aged out of the system by now; Sarah had taken her in out of the goodness of her heart, but she wasn’t her legal guardian. The hospital had taken a pregnancy test, but they couldn’t give those results to anyone but Emma.
“Sick, depressed, whatever,” Emma mumbled, “just go away and leave me alone.”
Sarah stroked her hair. “I can make an appointment with a clinic, honey, if you want me to.”
Emma rolled over then, anger rising to the surface. “I’m keeping it!” she snapped.
Sarah nodded calmly. “Okay. Well, when the time comes, I can help you call some agencies -”
“I mean,” Emma clarified through clenched teeth, “I’m keeping it. As in, forever.”
Sarah cupped her cheek. “Are you sure?”
Emma laid a protective hand over her womb. “He’s all I have of him. No one’s taking that away from me.”
She knew the baby was a boy from the very beginning, and she prayed he would look just like his father. When she looked into those familiar blue eyes and ran a hand over his jet-black baby fuzz, she wept with joy. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she named him Henry. It just felt right.
********************************************************
Emma toed her heels off the minute she came through the door. She couldn’t wait to get this honey-trap dress off. Especially since the asshole had spilled wine all over the front of it. She frowned at the quiet and darkness that greeted her in the apartment. She was just about to call out, when -
“Surprise!”
Emma shook her head and laughed as Henry and Sarah popped out from behind the kitchen island. Sarah had a plate with a cupcake on it, a birthday candle flickering in the middle of the pink icing.
“Did we surprise you, Mom?” Henry asked with a toothy grin.
“You sure did,” she assured him, tousling his messy dark hair. Killian’s eyes stared back at her in a face that was a perfect mixture of each of Henry’s parents. It still made her heart constrict to see the resemblance, though the pain had eased over the years. But no matter how many years passed, she knew no one would ever love her the way Killian had.
“Make a wish, sweetie,” Sarah said.
Emma made a big show of resting her chin on the kitchen island and quirking her brow as she thought of a good wish. Then she closed her eyes and blew out the candle. Sarah and Henry cheered. Little did they know she hadn’t wished for anything. The only thing she needed was right here in this room, and the only thing she wanted was gone and could never come home again.
They settled down at the table with their cupcakes, and Emma realized that Sarah seemed nervous for some reason. She fiddled with her cupcake, not even taking a bite, even though double chocolate fudge was her favorite.
“Emma,” she finally said slowly, “this is a very special birthday.”
Emma licked icing off her finger. “Oh no, don’t start in on the whole pushing thirty thing.”
“No,” Sarah said with a slightly awkward laugh, “it’s . . . meaningful, and well, there’s something I need to tell you. And I guess the best way to start is, Once Upon a Time . . . “
*******************************************************
The tale that Sarah wove was a difficult one to believe, to say the least, and it was only the dedication and support her foster mother had given her all those years of raising Henry that made her get in the car and head for a little quirky town called Storybrooke, Maine. That and Henry’s enthusiasm and whole hearted belief. She hadn’t been to Maine since the accident, and going back wasn’t easy.
It wasn’t easy accepting these people - David and Mary Margaret? Prince Charming and Snow White? - as her parents, either. Neither was it easy wrapping her mind around a town filled with fairy tale characters. And how in the world was she supposed to break a curse? True love’s kiss? Her whole world was wrapped up in her son, and . . .
Oh .
Her son was in a hospital room, coding, and then the next minute a rainbow was rippling across town. “I knew you could do it, Mom!” he beamed, like he hadn’t just died on her.
Then there was a purple cloud of freakin ’ magic, and wraiths of all things, then she was falling through a damn portal. This woman, a woman her own age, was trying to mother her, and she was camping out with Mulan and Sleeping Beauty , and what even had become of her life? She didn’t think things could get any weirder.
Then there were piles of corpses with holes in their chests, and a hand reaching out, and Aurora yelling about someone being alive in there. And the man squinted, and looked up, and his eyes were blue like forget-me-nots and of a profound melancholy.
“Killian?” she breathed.
The color seemed to drain from his face, a face that was so much older, and full of so much more pain. Much like hers, she imagined.
She’d know that face anywhere, regardless of time.
“Emma?” he exclaimed, the tiniest of smiles lifting the corner of his mouth.
“You know this man?” her mother asked.
“Yes. He’s Henry’s father.”
The angry boy a bit too insane icing over a secret pain. You know you don’t belong. You’re the first to fight. You’re way too loud. You’re the flash of light on a burial shroud. I know something’s wrong. Well everyone I know has got a reason to say “put the past away.”