Alright guys, so this hiatus is KILLING me and I needed more Emma/Mary Margaret(Snow White) in my life. This story has 14-15 chapters. So If I post one every other day it will cover the 34 days that we have left until Season 2 premieres. Regina, Rum, Dr. Whale, Graham, "David," and others WILL be in the story. The focus will just be Emma and MM. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :)

Oh, and I own nothing. Just my computer, my blog, and this account.

It was during times like this, when the deafening silence of the empty highway seeped into her skull and poisoned her thoughts, that Emma Swan wished that her car radio served more of a purpose than occupying space in her dashboard. It had been broken when she purchased the vehicle, a beaten-up yellow bug, but with a working air conditioner and an engine that ran smoothly enough, the car radio did not make much of a difference. And it was cheap, but so was the electrical wiring.

The headlights shone dully onto the misty stretches of the winding asphalt, as she drove in silence, unsure of her path or her destination.

Out of all the things that Emma Swan disliked, she detested silence the most. Silence allowed for memories, regrets, and fears—once held at bay—to drift to the shore. These thoughts she preferred to not acknowledge when she had the choice. The only comfort in the long and quiet drive was the occasional fluttering in her abdomen that reminded her that she wasn't alone. It was the reason she had been able to muster some self-control. It was the reason she didn't burn down that damn roadside diner after she was fired. It was the reason she got fired. But now it was her reason to start fresh.

She placed one hand on her growing belly and held the other firmly on the steering wheel as she rounded a turn. She glanced down for a moment and smiled slightly—and as she did so, she passed a painted wooden sign on the side of the road. Welcome to Storybrooke.


Granny's Diner was small. Small, and considerably quieter than Emma had expected. And even though she would have preferred something with a little bit more life to it, she needed a break from the endless mountain road, so she had parked across the street and meandered her way through its doors. She took a seat at the counter and mumbled a "thanks" when a tall brunette set a glass of water in front of her.

She took small sips of the water and visually perused the diner to occupy her thoughts. She was the only person sitting entirely alone; there were two other tables with people sitting at them, enjoying their meals, and the third was inhabited by a ginger-haired man with a large Dalmatian at his feet. The waitress, whom Emma now noticed had two streaks of red amongst the earthy tone of her flat-ironed hair, bounced her way over to where she was sitting and leaned her elbows on the counter before asking,

"What can I get for you?" She smiled without teeth, stretching her crimson-stained lips into a curved line.

"Just coffee please, with cream." Emma stated.

The waitress looked at her with an eyebrow sharply raised, her lips pursed in a smirk.

"What?" Emma scoffed.

"How far along are you?" she asked with an air of knowing. Emma's look of confusion turned to defensive, and the girl could only continue. "I saw you walk in."

Emma watched her eyes flick towards her stomach and then return to her gaze, eyebrows raised.

"Seriously?" She groaned, "Fine. I'll have," she let out a pointed breath, "Hot chocolate, with whip cream, and a dash of cinnamon on top.

"Coming right up," the brunette responded with a satisfied smile, and flitted toward the nack. But a moment later she continued, speaking louder than before to make up for the distance, "You never answered my question."

"And what's that?" Emma said, still pouting in her spot at the counter.

"How far along are you?" she echoed from the far side of the space behind the bar. Her back was turned as she filled the mugs with the warm brown liquid from a chrome cylinder stationed in the corner.

"Almost six months, I think. Yeah…" Emma said softly, realizing how long she had really been on the road.

"Well congratulations. My name is Ruby by the way. I don't think we've met, you must be new in town," the waitress chirped after topping the drinks and making her way back to where Emma sat slumped and distracted.

"Emma." The blonde uttered her name almost automatically, still lost in her thoughts. But quickly the smell of the cocoa and cinnamon wafted into her nose and broke her trance. She looked up and was surprised to see two mugs on the counter, with Ruby standing behind them, patiently waiting for Emma to realize she was there and take hers.

"Uh, I only ordered one," Emma informed her.

"I know," Ruby replied, still as chipper as ever, "the other one's not for you. It's for someone else." She paused and looked at the two mugs, a thought coming to her. "Although it is curious that you both like cinnamon on your hot chocolate."

As quickly as the thought had come, it vanished from her eyes and she began another sentence. "I just prepared it early; she hasn't actually come in yet. But I knew that she would order this, she always does. She comes every Friday evening at this time, after she finishes grading tests for her students. She teaches fourth grade at the local school." Ruby crossed back toward the kitchen to start storing the left-over food for closing.

"I mean, to be honest, I shouldn't even let her in the door anymore. I understood when it was once a month, but every Friday? I've been meaning to take her out sometime. I don't think she does much more than eat here, teach her kids, and volunteer around town." It had become clear that despite her worries and complaints about the woman, Ruby considered her a friend. And when Emma asked about this she responded with an, "Oh, yes of course. Our friendship is just, unconventional, I guess."

" This woman sounds like a nun," Emma drawled, taking a swipe of the whip cream with her finger and sucking it off with concentration and a pleasured smile.

"You know, we could be good friends you and I, I thinks it's because you remind me of her, in some weird, twisted, sarcastic, cynical, brooding sort of way," Ruby stated with a shrug.

Emma looked at her with confusion-tinged judgment. "How would you even come to that conclusion? We haven't known each other for more than 10 minutes. You don't know anything."

"I don't know," she replied, her eyes twitching upward in thought, "Maybe it's like a sixth sense."

Just as Ruby finished the sentence, the door's hanging bell rang its ceremonious jingle, and a young woman with a small frame and cropped dark hair came through. The door shut loudly, and she jumped slightly as she made her way to her typical place at the counter where her drink was waiting. She swung her purse off her shoulder and set it gently on the floor beside her stool, gave a wave to the carrot-headed man at the nearby table, and shouted a quick thank you to Ruby, who had since made her way behind the large doors to the back kitchen.

Even though there was a seat between them, Emma felt uncomfortably close to her, but was too afraid of offending the woman to move over one more. Possibly the claustrophobic feelings were from knowing too much without ever even having exchanged a word with her. Not that she was planning to start a conversation anytime soon.

Somewhere deep down she felt bad for the analysis that she knew was about to consume her mind, but she couldn't help it. Certain people were easier to figure out than others. This woman, whose name she was still unaware of, was the embodiment of her stereotype. No boyfriend, if there had ever been one, quiet, shy, no children so she instead channeled her need for love into teaching other people's children, and maybe a cat or two. However, her sweater, which was neatly button up to her collarbone, eugh, didn't show a trace of animal hair. But Emma was still sure of most of her conclusions.

The woman must have begun to sense the staring because her head turned toward Emma and for a second did a double take and her expression took a form of wonder, before the moment passed, and she was looking with an again sweet expression. But a second later her gaze went back to her mug and she swirled the bubbles of melted whipped cream methodically, as if the moment hadn't really occurred in the first place.

Within the next ten minutes, the diner slowly emptied until only the three women remained. The two at the counter were clearly happy to reside only in their thoughts, but Ruby could contain herself no longer.

"Wow. You two are depressing," she exuded from her station near the sinks. "You, Mary Margaret, are young, single, have the potential to be incredibly hot were you to permit me to make some adjustments to your style—or lack thereof—and yet you are sitting in my grandmother's diner at 8:30 on a Friday night."

"And you," she said suddenly pointing her attention towards Emma, "Can't be more than a teenager. This is the prime of your life, what are you doing in a town like Storybrooke?" Her tone was slowly becoming more sympathetic, "I mean, I understand that the whole being pregnant thing can kind of ruin the whole chance at a good time thing, but go somewhere besides Maine if you're given the choice! Do you know what I'd give to get out of here?"

As if on cue, Mary Margaret glanced back to the blonde seated two stools over and her eyes meandered to her abdomen, hidden mostly underneath the oversized sweatshirt that the was clothed in. An unfamiliar emotion came over her. She would admit that she had always been drawn to pregnant women; she thought there was something so beautiful about creating another life, and she dreamed to someday find someone to do that with. But in the most recent years she had found herself feeling more alone than before, but something about this other woman was bringing back her desire for love and family again.

Emma suddenly spoke, breaking her from her thoughts. "Hey you wanna trade?" She asked, directed clearly at Ruby. "I promise, you haven't lived until you've vomited every day for two months and then experienced heartburn like no other. And the best part? Your boobs hurt like you can't even imagine." The context of her words was bitter, but she couldn't help laughing at the slightly horrified and embarrassed look on Ruby's face in response to her many revelations.

"You know Ruby, at the rate you're going, you might be able to have a baby with any man you want, in Storybrooke, in the next month," Mary Margaret snorted into her almost empty mug.

Ruby's nostrils flared and she turned back toward the kitchen in a huff. "Well fine, you two can be boring all by yourselves."

For a minute Emma sat there, surprised and somehow proud of this woman sitting next to her. As she gawked she couldn't help but laugh to herself at the irony of the situation. The entire time that they had occupied this space together, she had expected nothing but sweet, docile sentences to emerge from Mary Margaret's mouth; especially with a name like Mary Margaret. I mean, did this woman drop out of the bible or what? And yet in the previous moments she had proven herself capable of multiple things; a sense of humor, comedic timing, and a stubborn streak that wouldn't allow her to be poked fun at.

But before Emma could comment on the change in tides, Mary Margaret rose from her seat, left some cash on the counter, grabbed her purse, and started for the door. Just as she turned the doorknob to exit, she swiveled herself around and faced Emma, who had already been watching her leave, and spoke. "It was nice meeting you…." She paused, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"Emma," the young woman responded. This response had truly been the same word as the last time she spoke it, yet she felt as though the way in which it was received gave it more value than it'd had earlier in the evening.

"Emma," she echoed, her voice lingering on each dripping syllable. "I'll see you around sometime." She smiled one last time, and with that she left, and Emma sat alone once again.

Glancing at the clock, Emma decided that rest would be imperative, and instead of bothering Ruby once more, she copied Mary Margaret's amount and vacated the small diner. The air had grown crisp in the half an hour that she had stayed inside, and she wrapped the thin hoodie tighter around the only entirely warm spot on her body. She could feel the baby fluttering in her stomach as she clipped quickly to her car and got inside, thankful for the preserved temperature within its metal structure. She slowly reclined her seat, and shifted to her side to reach beneath it and pull out a large blanket.

Once she was in a comfortable position, she slid the tan folder from between the seat and the storage compartment and opened it, as was her nightly ceremony. As the years had gone on she had found that even something as simple as a representation of hope helped her sleep better. After a quick glance through it she set in on the passenger seat and curled into herself once more, to prepare for sleep. Before finally drifting into her dreams she slipped her hand under her shirt and rubbed her stomach before whispering, "We're in this together kid. You and me; always."

I owe all of the correct grammar and nice flow-y sentences to my AMAZING beta 7Seven7. Her fanfics are gorgeous, and inspiring. Go ahead and check her out if you haven't yet! I hope this was a good start. After this chapter, the Emma/MM stuff is only going to increase. Thanks for taking this ride with me. *cough* reviews appreciated *cough*