17Nearly a year had passed since their encounter on Granny's front patio. That dark, frigid evening not much unlike this very moment, Emma noted, as she snuggled a bit deeper into the heavy woolen blanket she sat huddled under while tucked deep into the corner of the freshly painted white porch swing. Their porch swing, she thought... on their front porch. Inwardly she sighed heavily. Sleep had alluded her; she had been overly exhausted and overly contemplative these past few weeks and though sleep was the one thing her body needed - yearned for even - it was the one thing her mind had denied her.
Emma had finished unpacking the very last box from their move into the new home well into the wee hours of the night. The house was silent around her as she broke down that very last box and added it to the stack near the back door. Her body had told her to climb the stairs and nuzzle deep into her comfy bed and the pirate she knew waited there for her, but her thoughts had taken her in another direction. Instead, she found herself making a steaming cup of cocoa, grabbing one of the many heavy woolen ships blanket she now found bursting out of the linen closet, and pulling one of his creamy wool fisherman's sweaters over her head as she drifted out onto their front porch. She inhaled the saltiness of the sea breeze and marveled at the bright twinkle of the stars as they did their best to show up the shining brilliance of the slowly sinking moon.
Quickly Emma realized that the black cotton of her leggings and bulky thick cotton of her socks were doing little to fend off the waging chill that had begun to take over the little seaside town she now happily called home. Maine was not exactly a warm place during any point of the year, but as fall drifted into winter the air could become downright bitter in the dark of night. Numbly and still deep in thought, she wandered over to the swing he had so lovingly hung in the corner of the porch for her (with her father's help of course). Her mother had padded it with a softly tufted pale yellow cushion and loaded it down - just as the other white furniture now arranged about the porch - with hand embroidered toss pillows. Climbing on, she huddled into the corner with her knees to her chest and pulled the blanket up to surround her like a cocoon. Some how she had managed to hold the mug of cocoa on the other side of the blanket without spilling it and found herself inhaling its warmth and drifting away into her thoughts more so than she was actually drinking it.
Her mind wandered back to the night that had truly kick started it all. Absently her thumb rubbed across the wide smoothness of the white metal band that encircled her left ring finger; slowly spinning the band until she felt the cool hard surface of the stone that sat atop it. So much had transpired in such a short amount of time and she sometimes wondered what exactly she had done so right in her life to now be sitting here as she was - happy, content and even, yes, hopeful.
The first specs of dawn began to break over the horizon as she finally allowed her eyes to close and her mind to wander back...
The entire town of Storybrooke had gathered inside of Granny's Diner for the presentation of the new prince. Emma had found herself happily convened with her family and surrounded by those she now considered friends yet something was still missing. Something was still hollow, still empty - or maybe it was someone. Glancing around she realized what it was - he wasn't there. She silently made her way to the window and saw him there, taking up a spot at one of the tables on Granny's front patio. The lights overhead cast a soft glow on his forlorn face. His expression was that of a man deep in thought; his eyes cast toward the ground and his body showing no signs of chill from the bitter nights cold. Her heart sank.
Why was he out there alone? Why had he not felt so inclined as to come inside and join the celebration? Why was it that though they had already endured so much together he still seemed so alone?
Emma slipped out of the diner undetected and padded softly to his table, taking a seat as he refocused his eyes and smiled devilishly up at her. Their exchange had been one of few words, piles of emotions and unspoken feelings that ran deeper than the core of the Earth. He revealed what he had done in order to get back to her and that alone did things to Emma that she never felt possible. After some time and some persuading they had eventually made their way back inside. Henry had given her a knowing, approving smile as she had taken to standing behind Killian at the seat he had chosen at the counter. Her son, for his young age, was wise beyond his years and she suspected that he had spied her and Killian's deep romantic exchange that had just taken place outside the front windows.
Emma was not ashamed that he may have in fact witnessed their kiss; she was actually more relieved. The look Henry had given her was one that had told her that he was okay with it and actually maybe just a tad bit happy. The look had given her the courage to drape her arms around Killian's shoulders and even settle her cheek against his hair. If her son approved than that was all she needed. Her heart felt suddenly whole - nothing was missing now. Everything she needed was here.
After that night, life in Storybrooke had returned to its normal routine. Life had continued to move along without the threat of any major foe on the horizon; love blossomed, families grew, the children played and laughed, and everyone seemed to fall back into step with new found friendships and appreciations of one another. It was not long before the Charming family had outgrown the loft and Emma had begun to feel awkward with her and Killian's developing relationship cramped into such a small space. The lack of privacy was astounding , and though she loved David and Mary-Margaret deeply, she needed to be able to close a door and be in her own space. Their own space.
Little beknownst to her, Henry - along with the assistance of one devilishly handsome pirate and one fairest of them all Enchanted Forest princess - had started looking for a place for Emma to call her own not long after the night of Prince Neal's coronation. They had secretly scoped out a handful of places but not a single one had ever seemed to feel just like home. Feeling a bit hopeless, Henry had called upon his Grandmother for some help - if anyone could find a light in the darkness, it was her. One afternoon, she had begged Emma to come shopping with her - claiming she needed to get a few new things for the kitchen, saying something about David burning a pot or two in his attempts to cook since Neal had been born. Begrudgingly, Emma had gone with her but shopping was not her thing. While wandering the home goods shop, Mary -Margaret mentioned how she would someday love to move her and David upstairs in the loft and create for Neal a proper nursery downstairs.
"Mom." She had taken more to calling her that now. "Maybe you can start planning that nursery sooner than you think." Emma fingered a pretty little toss pillow that sat on the shelf in front of her, trying to gauge her mother's expression out the corner of her eye. Picking it up, she studied the delicate sailing ship stitched into the soft linen... Killian would love this.
Mary-Margaret did her best to hide a smile as she turned towards her daughter. "Why would you say that, dear? Have you been thinking about moving out?" There, she had done it. The seed was planted and hopefully Henry would be rewarded shortly by her efforts with a room of his own.
Sighing deeply, Emma held the small pillow to her chest, "Actually, Mom, I have. I love our family - I really do - but I think I would love us all more if Henry and I had our own space." She closed her eyes and waiting for the fluster of no's, why's and please don't go's. But they never came.
Instead, her mother simply smiled at her. Reaching out, she squeezed her hand, "Emma, as much as your father and I love you and enjoy having you finally in our lives again, I think you finding a home to call your own is a fantastic idea. As long as it's in Storybrooke, that is."
"Mom! Of course it will be!" Emma nudged her mother with her shoulder, still not one for large amounts of hugs and affection. "I told you, I'm home. This is home... And I'll be hard pressed to ever leave here again."
Emma and Mary-Margaret finished up at the store shortly there after, leaving not only with a few new pans but also with the small toss pillow embroidered with a old sailing ship that much resembled Killian's beloved Jolly Roger. Emma had stated rather firmly that she didn't really need it, she just found it pretty, but Mary-Margaret insisted. She said it was her very first thing for her first home in Storybrooke. Emma couldn't find the will to argue with her... After all, Killian really would love it.