The town is still in the state of a blackout when you finally make it to the Miner’s Day fair, your mind still occupied with the details of Kathryn’s case.
You enter the large town field where the fair is being held to a scene which makes you smile despite your problem-stricken mind. Even though the lights aren’t back up yet, the townspeople are still managing to have fun. They have gathered in a large circle, dotted with what must be hundreds of candles, around a large, roaring bonfire.
The air smells of clean smoke with a faint whiff of honeysuckle from the nuns’ candles. It feels nice to see them all so happy, forgetting everything else. For a moment you wish for that too, for a moment of oblivion.
Your plate seems too full to you right now.
There’s Kathryn’s disappearance and David’s incriminating phone records — about which you still haven’t decided what to do.
There’s the fact of the whole town shunning Mary Margaret — who’s the closest thing to a best friend you’ve got here — and treating her like a tramp for one stupid mistake which wasn’t entirely of her making.
And there’s the son whose love has crept up your heart, whose troubled mind worries you to no end.
And then there’s these other feelings creeping up your heart, for an entirely different and the most improbable person, and those are the ones you don’t even want to think about. Because maybe if you won’t think about them, if you’ll ignore them, they’ll go away and you won’t have to think about that — infuriating woman.
Ah, how you miss the good old days when the list of your worries was limited to your next client, the next destination to run off to, and the amount of exhaust fumes coming out of your Bug.
You’re brought out of your reverie by the revving of an engine and you look up to see Sean Hermann connecting his amp, mic, guitar and various other apparatus to his pick up amidst cheers from the townspeople. It makes you smile, seeing their enthusiasm on a simple garage band. Sean cranks out a few notes on his guitar to loud clapping.
As they begin to play — and thankfully it’s nothing too wild — you settle down at your spot, content to be at the back of the crowd, away from the hub, away from everything else for a few moments. But that is not to be.
The first person to run smack into you, literally, is — Henry, of course.
“Henry! What are you doing?” You hold him by his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. “Watch where you’re going, kid, you could hurt yourself!”
“Emma!” he exclaims, breathless. “Quick, hide me. Hide me!”
“Uh — why? ”
“My mom’s looking for me!”
You frown, trying to shake an image of Regina running after Henry with an axe in her hand from your mind. “Why are you running from her?”
Henry makes a face. “It’s bedtime. She wants to take me home and put me to bed!” He pouts.
“Well,” you tell him. “She’s right. It’s getting late.”
“But I’m having fun! I don’t wanna go home just yet!” He whines. “Please, Emma, please, please hide me!”
“No can do, kid! I mean, do you want her to kill me? She already seemed to be in a bad mood today.”
“She’s always in a bad mood!”
“Well, you should be in bed—” you begin but he suddenly looks to his right and shouts, “There’s Archie! I’ll hide with him, bye Emma!”
And he rushes off before you can say anything more than, “Henry!”
You sigh, shaking your head in exasperation.
The next person to find you, not five minutes later, is, as you expected, Regina.
“Sheriff Swan,” comes the clipped voice. “Have you seen my son? He seems to have … run away.”
Despite the curt tone, you can feel the note of worry in the mayor’s voice.
“I — uh—” You want to point towards Archie and the dark little head bobbing around his tweed coat, but you don’t. “Nope. I haven’t.”
But the hesitation in your voice makes Regina frown suspiciously at you.
“Sheriff if you’ve seen my son—” she begins but you cut her off.
“I haven’t seen him,” you say, and go on before she can speak. “He’d be here, somewhere, why would he run away?”
“Apparently,” says Regina, taking off a leather glove with a crack you find entirely too fascinating for your own good, and running a frustrated hand through her hair. “It runs in the blood.”
“Hey, come on—” but this time she’s the one who interrupts you.
“If you happen upon my errant son, tell him he’s grounded for the weekend.”
“Oh, really , Regina, let the kid have some fun!”
“It’s his bedtime, and I’ve already allowed him to stay half an hour over!” There’s a finality in her voice. “Now, why don’t you be a better Sheriff than you are a parent and look for him?”
You sigh as you watch her dive back into the fray of people, just as exasperated with her as you had been with Henry. And then, just to make a point, you walk in the direction exactly opposite to where you know Henry’s tweedy hideout to be.
Which, unfortunately, is where you run into Ruby, Mary Margaret and Ashley, and it would have been fine in any other circumstance — except that they’re dancing . And Emma Swan may do a lot of things, but Emma Swan certainly does not dance! But as is usually the case where Ruby is involved, you find your protestations falling on deaf ears, and all your efforts to backtrack are in vain.
In the end all it takes is Mary Margaret’s pouting face and her, “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Emma!”
“Yeah, Ems,” says Ruby, grinding entirely too close for your comfort. “Live a little.”
So when you give up protesting — cursing Regina inwardly — and join in, the smile on Mary’s face makes it all worth it, especially since it’s been so many days since you’ve seen her smile like that. So you smile back and join in as best as you can.
But if you thought that was the end of your ordeal for tonight, oh, how woefully wrong you were! Because it hasn’t even been five minutes when the crowd is parting and you, along with the rest of the girls, are pushed right to the front. And, oh, this can’t be good! Sean is asking Ashley to sing — and you should have gotten out of there faster because Ashley, along with Ruby, pushes you forward, and the next thing you know, you’ve been hauled unceremoniously up to the crude stage the boys had put up in a hurry.
“And now,” booms a voice, and you see August holding the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen of Storybrooke! Your town Sheriff will serenade you with a song of her choice!”
Either the platform is rocky or your legs are shaking because suddenly Storybrooke seems to be populated by tens of thousands of people all looking up at you expectantly. You regroup in a hurry and glare at August. What is he even doing up here?
“What are you doing here?” You mouth at him.
He looks pointedly at the microphone in his hand.
“You sing? ”
He shrugs.
And then you hear the god-awful chanting of “Song! Song! Song!”
“People!” you tell them. “I can’t sing!”
There’s a collective groan, and someone at the back yells, “Give it to us, Sheriff! We can take it!”
Oh, you’re sure they can. You’re just not very sure you can.
“Go for it, Emma!” That’s Mary Margaret. “I know you can sing, I’ve heard you!”
And best friend or not, you could’ve strangled the woman cheerfully right there and then because the shouts of “Song! Song! Song!” start again.
“Mary Margaret,” August’s voice booms out again. “You two are roommates! What’s her favorite song these days?”
You glare at her, telling her ‘Don’t you dare!’ with your eyes — but she dares, the traitor! — she motions August forward and whispers in his ear, and he nods, comes right back up to Sean and the boys and whispers to them.
You close your eyes in defeat as the first, lonely chords of ‘All Your Life’ thrum out of Sean’s guitar and boom out over the powerful woofers in his pick up — and curse the moment you decide to protect Henry from Regina.
August has, meanwhile, procured another mic from somewhere. He hands it to you, and you look at it like it is going to bite you any moment.
“Go on,” he nudges you as Sean begins to play the starting chords again. You take a deep breath and raise the mic, knowing that there’s no way out of this now.
“Would you walk to the edge of the ocean,” you can hear your own voice echo in your ears, slightly shaky and hoarse over the speakers.
“Louder!” That’s Ruby.
Oh, would that you could strangle them all right now! You push away the murderous images from your brain and concentrate on the next lyrics.
“Just to fill my jar with sand
just in case I get the notion
to let it run through my hands…”
There’s still a quiver in your voice as you raise it slightly.
“Let it run through my hands…”
So you decide to ignore the scores of faces in front of you and fix your eyes on one point.
Somehow — you don’t know how your eyes sought her out in this seething mass of people — but you find your gaze fixated on a pair of dark eyes beneath arched brows. Perhaps it is the warm, yellow firelight flickering on her face because to you it seems to stand out just a little bit more than others.
“Well, I don't want the whole world,” you can feel your voice getting stronger as your eyes focus on that one point. “The sun, the moon, and all their light…”
She doesn’t break the gaze, doesn’t take her eyes away from yours, no, she doesn’t even look away for an instant. She just stands there, in the middle of the crowd, arms crossed, looking at you, right at you.
“I just want to be the only girl
You love all your life
You love all your life…”
And it’s not a frown on her face, or anger or even disgust — it’s something else, something entirely different. Something, you can tell even from this distance, about which she isn’t sure, she doesn’t know what it is, just as you’re not sure.
“Would you catch a couple thousand fireflies
Put them in a lamp to light my world
All dressed up in a tux and bowtie…”
You see the shadow of a smile cross her lips and you cannot help but smile a little yourself. Tux and bowtie! Well, that’d certainly be a sight, won’t it?
“Hand deliver to a lonely girl
To a lonely, lonely girl…”
And this time when you start the chorus, you see another look in her eyes, and it’s one you haven’t seen before. It makes you want to jump down and run to her and do something very, very drastic to take that look away from her eyes. And when did it come to this? Even as you look at her, it’s gone in an instant.
And then the spell breaks as August’s baritone joins you to cheers and applause from the enthusiastic audience. It startles you, making you break eye contact with her, and you turn your head to look at him as he croons.
“Lately I’ve been writing desperate love songs
Mostly I sing them to the walls
You could be the centerpiece of my obsession
If you would notice me…”
And when you look back, she isn’t there anymore. Disappointment raises its head, and even as your eyes desperately seek her out, you know you won’t find her this time.
You’re off that platform even before the last chords have died down. The whole Storybrooke is clapping and cheering for you. You look around and everyone seems to be there, everyone except for that one face you want to see right now. But she seems to have vanished in thin air. A dark clothed bundle collides with you as you are peering around, and arms wrap around your waist.
“Emma! You were awesome!”
“Hey, kid,” you pat his head. “Thanks. Where’s your mom?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, reaching out to hold your hand as you start walking. “She was over by the bonfire just a while ago, then in the middle of your song she just turned and left. You were so good , Emma! Do you think I can sing like that? Maybe someday I can start my own band!”
You smile at his childish enthusiasm even though his sentence gnaws a little at your heart. Why would she leave? Why do you care?
“Sure,” you tell him. “Come on, let’s find your mom. It’s very late — and you’re grounded for the weekend, you know.”
He groans. “She said that?”
“Well, you had it coming.”
“Em- ma! ” he pouts. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” you ruffle his hair. “I just don’t want to be a — bad parent, or anything.” Regina’s words from earlier on slip out of your mouth.
“You’re not!”
“Well, what do you know?” you say, playfully smacking his arm. “Come on.”
You find her by her car, leaning against it, looking down, arms still crossed like she is staving something off. She cuts a lonely figure, standing there all by herself. She looks up when she hears the two of you approach, and straightens, unlocking the car doors without a word. It is, apparently, a signal for Henry — who has put his serious face on — to get into the car. He does so, quietly and without a single word of protest.
The two of you stand facing each other for a moment and the silence is deafening to your ears. You’re the one to break it.
“Don’t be too hard on him. He was just having a bit of fun.”
You are prepared for caustic comebacks about bad parenting but she only nods, and another awkward pause stretches between you.
“Well, then,” you begin just as she says, “Sheriff Swan—”
“If this is about the blackout, I’ve got the guys from the power company down there working on it.”
The look in her eyes tells you it probably hadn’t been about the blackout, but the fear and reluctance is back in your heart and you don’t want to take it somewhere you both might regret.
The moment passes as she closes her mouth, nods her head as if she knows, and then takes a deep breath before speaking again.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” she says. “It’s been twenty-four hours since my friend Kathryn went missing. Have you found anything?”
And this is the moment you were dreading ever since you saw those phone records, the moment where you really need to make a decision.
“I found something,” you tell her, not willing to lie. “I just don’t know what it means.”
“Well, what is it?” she asks, brows rising slightly.
And you don’t want to answer that so instead you opt to break out your law-abiding-Sheriff best. “At this point in the investigation it’s best I don’t divulge that information.”
You see her frown, tilting her head and making the connections, looking right at you.
“If you’re covering for someone,” she begins, reaching an instant — and correct — conclusion. “If you’re not doing your job, Sheriff Swan, I’ll find someone who will.”
You’re sure she will. You nod at her.
“You do that,” you say, staring right back.
The silence between you stretches. She doesn’t say anything about gazes held, songs sung, moments shared across bonfires and crowds of people.
Neither do you.
And when she turns around, gets into her car and drives away, you stand there on the pavement for a long moment, looking at the dwindling taillights until they disappear around a corner, and then you turn around to go find David and finally talk to him.