Song for a Siren

Chapter 1

           

Stepping off the plane is frightening, yet exciting. Mary Margaret is waiting for her at baggage claim, but she's not quite sure what is waiting for her back in Storybrooke. Her leaving didn't exactly go off without a hitch a year before, but her trip was over for now. She tries to stop that train of thought in its tracks, but pain crosses her mind over again.

This is why she left, why she just couldn't stay another moment. She had only told Mary Margaret and David that she was leaving, but everyone else was okay with a simple text...well, almost everyone.

Emma's fingers graze the buttons over her dark cardigan and fidget by her stomach as she waits for the line to get through the last stretch. Listening to the conversations around her is simple considering they're all in English, compared to the rest of her trip. Between Italy, Denmark, India, France, and Amsterdam, she had been witness to many cultures and languages. At first it had been a bit of culture shock, but she just couldn't bear to be home. The sights were too much day in and day out. Ignorance surely is bliss.

Mary Margaret is practically jumping up and down with joy when she gets to the right carousel. She runs over and wraps her in a huge embrace. Emma sighs and sinks in her friend's arms, despite her enjoyment at being away, she really did miss her.

"So how was it? My gosh you're so tan." Mary Margaret holds her at arms-length, practically beaming.

"Absolutely amazing, India definitely gave me some color. I feel a little more whole." Emma shrugs, running a hand through her hair to avoid Mary Margaret's barely concealed look of sympathy. "I don't want to talk about it here."

Her friend nods, "We've got all the time in the world." The baggage carousel beeps alerting her to the luggage starting its descent. With her luck, her black bag will be the last one to come out. Travelling with only one bag was so freeing, her other supply of meager possession was stored in a box at her friend's apartment. She planned on staying there for a week or so until she could get a place of her own.

"I don't think I ever want to talk about it." She shrugs, avoiding her eye. It's completely within reason that she doesn't want to discuss the circumstances of her departure. It's not like anyone actual knows anyways.

-

Mary Margaret leads her upstairs to her apartment, but stops just outside the door. "I told David not to invite everyone, but I'm sure he did. Act surprised." Without giving her time to respond, or even run away, she pushes open the door to almost fifteen people. Emma wishes she could have run.

David is wearing a party hat, along with Robin and August which she's sure he forced them into, but everyone else has a drink in hand and looks to already be having a good time. The apartment is decorated with streamers and a few purple balloons, but its who's lounging in the corner that catches her eyes.

"Welcome home!" A few of them manage to shout in unison as David comes over to wrap her in a bear hug.

"So happy to have you home, Em." He crushes her ribs, but it's nice. The smell of his cologne wraps around her, encasing her in the comforts of home.

Still, she can't fully relax. Her hand fidgets with the buttons again, a habit she had developed over the course of the last year. She had managed to break herself of it while she was away, but it seemed coming back was just a colossal backslide. Keeping her voice low and close to his ear, she mutters. "What is he doing here?"

David smiles wide, pulling back from her and rearranges a piece of hair on her shoulder. Mary Margaret is practically oozing awkward next to them. "He's your husband...and he hasn't had the easiest year, Emma." His eyes can't help but to glance over to Killian

Her eyes flash. "I filed for divorce and you know that." Instinct is telling her that she needs to run, go fly across the ocean again. It's tempting to buy another plane ticket, but she promised herself that she would stay just until the paper were signed. The problem lies in the room with her, making her anxiety rise high and higher. She can't even look at him properly. "I need to get out of here." 

Pushing through a few people, she throws open the apartment door and practically runs down the stairs. The cool fall air outside does wonders for the panic attack she's about to have. Emma closes her eyes and listens to the winds that's rustling through the nearby trees. The noise seems to calm her insides, slowing the churning of her stomach and bringing her back to reality.

Reality sucks.

Especially when your soon-to-be ex-husband is standing across from you after leaving with no explanation for a year.

"I don't want to talk, Killian." Emma turns her back on him, already starting across the street. She's not sure where she's going to go, but anywhere else is better.

She can hear his boots hitting the pavement forcefully as he chases after her. "Bloody fuck, Emma! Can you even look at me?" He's right. Still, even one year without contact, he can still read her like a book. His face is too painful to look at. She fidgets with the buttons again.

She whirls on her heels and stares him down with what she's sure is a look of death. "No. I can't look at you. You're everything that's wrong with my life. Just sign the damn papers!"

There's so much hurt in his face that she has to force her eyes to anywhere but his face. The turning leaving on a nearby tree draws her attention.

"I just can't do this," she mutters, but she knows that he heard her by the way his face falls.

It doesn't seem like he has any more to say and she's five minutes from breaking down in the middle of the dark streets, so she turns back to her walk down Storybrooke's main road. She leaves him staring after her.