Eric awoke to the gentle, familiar rock of the ocean, and for a few disoriented moments, he thought he was in Neverland again, aboard the Lagerkron. Then the wrongness of his surroundings penetrated the fog that permeated his mind, and Eric remembered that he was in Storybrooke, aboard the Jolly Roger. He sat up in the bunk he'd claimed as his own, several weeks ago, and scrubbed at his eyes. It had been three days since he had run into Ariel at Rider and Baba's. Three days in which he had awoken with a pounding headache, feeling like absolute hell-

Wait a damn minute, he thought peering around the cabin for any sign that his irritable roommate had been there. It was the first morning Jones had let him sleep it off instead of yanking him out of bed and plunging him head first into a bucket of frigid seawater until he sobered up a little. Something must be wrong.

Eric dressed with haste, donning a clean white shirt and ragged grey trousers, shorn off around the knees for ease of movement aboard the ship. He made his way up to the main deck and shielded his eyes from the late morning sun as it reflected off the water. There was no sign of Jones anywhere, but a familiar tangle of blonde hair blew in the breeze up on the quarter deck, and Eric frowned. What was Emma doing here at this time of the morning? Worried for Jones, Eric's steps were quick but cautious as he approached her. "Emma," he said as she turned to face him. "What brings you here? Something wrong? Is he ill?"

She shook her head. "I took an early lunch. The station is pretty slow today. I thought Killian might like to join me at the diner. We had a long talk last night, and it seems he celebrated with a bit too much rum after that. He's getting ready right now."

He felt relieved. For a brief moment, his heart had seized with fear for Ariel after Emma confirmed that Jones wasn't ill, and he had worried that something might have happened to her. Something bad enough to merit Jones allowing him to sleep late and the town sheriff coming out to break the bad news. But she was safe. His Ariel was safe. And that was all that mattered, even if she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Oh-I saw Grimsby this morning," she said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "He wanted me to tell you that they've been cleaning up storage and getting rid of junk in preparation for when you move, but they set aside some things you might be interested in. He said you could come by any time to look them over." She paused. "I didn't realize you were moving."

"I'm not-yet. We haven't even found a house. Grimsby just likes to be prepared for anything, that's all."

She smiled slightly. "He did seem like that type."

"You have no idea. He used to be much worse, back when I first employed him. But he's mellowed quite a bit since then." She raised her brow, disbelief written across her face, and he grinned. "Not like Jones, here," he added with a wink, watching Killian approach from his peripheral vision.

Emma grinned. "Someday, you're going to have to tell me the story."

"What story?" Jones asked, eyeing them both with suspicion as he joined them.

"The story of how you two met in Neverland," she smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Ready to go?" He nodded, and Eric watched them leave, noting that they seemed more at ease with each other, much of the post-Neverland tension dissipated. Whatever they had discussed last night, it appeared to have done their budding relationship a world of good, and it left Eric feeling both wistful and resentful about his own situation with Ariel.

He worked off his frustration and restlessness through the usual routine of chores and ship maintenance that Jones put him through each morning, clinging to the routine of work and sweat as he had his days in Neverland. Though he would never admit as much to Jones and allow him the smug satisfaction, Eric knew that the hard work his mate saddled him every waking hour of the day was good for him, gave him something to focus on besides his own problems. That between the two of them, they had nearly restored the entirety of the Jolly Roger's interior in the space of not quite two months said quite a lot about how each of them were adjusting to the new set of circumstances they found themselves in since their return from Neverland.

After finishing his routine of chores, Eric cleaned up, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and walked into town for lunch.

Granny's Diner was busy, but not quite so crowded as Eric had expected it to be, when he walked in the door a short time later. He scanned the diner, half-expecting to see Jones lingering over a cup of rum, since he hadn't returned before Eric had finished with his work. There was no sign of either Killian or Emma, however, and Eric briefly puzzled over that until he saw a familiar curtain of red hair spilling over slim, pale shoulders. Hunched over a stack of documents at a table in the far corner of the diner, Ariel seemed wholly absorbed in her work, and unaware of his presence. So much for working out my frustration through hard labor, he thought sardonically, helplessly drinking in the sight of her.

Shifting to the side to allow another customer to pass by him toward the door, Eric nodded at Leroy, whom he had worked with a time or two on odd jobs around Storybrooke, and took a seat on one of the stools at the long counter. "Well, look what the sea washed up again," Granny said, shuffling over with an expression that was neither a smile or frown, but somewhere between. "Tired of hardtack and fish?"

"Oh, we splurge on salted beef now and again, too," he winked at her, "to liven the menu up during our wild parties."

She snorted, the barest hint of a smile on her aging features. "I bet. So what'll you have? Today's special is grilled salmon, but I don't suppose you'll want that." He shook his head. "Then I'll suggest the fried chicken. Comes with your choice of two sides. We have green beans, corn, coleslaw, baked beans, or mashed potatoes and gravy."

"What do you recommend?" Eric had no earthly idea what some of the items she had just rattled off even were.

She eyed him with a knowing expression. "Can't go wrong with green beans and mashed potatoes with gravy. I'll put in an order for you. You paying cash, or is this going on your tab?"

"My what?" He blinked at her.

"Your tab. A credit account." She frowned. "Ruby said she opened one up in your name a few days ago. You didn't ask her to?"

"No," he shook his head. "It must have been Grimsby, making arrangements for me until everything is settled with the lawyers."

"You want to close it?"

"No," he decided. He hadn't been entirely comfortable taking money from the Charmings, even on a temporary basis, until his own fortune was restored to him, and the knowledge that he might be able to lessen that dependence pleased him. He could pay back some of what he owed them with the money Grimsby had advanced him out of his own pocket, and settle up the remainder of all three debts as soon as he had access to the Lagerkron funds again. "Put the meal on my account. It's less of Grimsby's money I have to burn through in the meantime."

"All right," she said. "You want a beer with the meal?"

"Water is fine."

"Still a little hungover, eh?" She smiled. "I thought you looked a little green around the gills. Wise decision."

She disappeared into the back of the restaurant, and Eric glanced over toward Ariel again. The plate of food she had ordered sat on the table next to her elbow, untouched as far as he could see. Eric frowned, wondering if she were even aware of its presence. It wasn't like the Ariel he knew to simply ignore food and not eat. And were those circles under her eyes? She wasn't taking care of herself. Feeling helpless, Eric shifted restlessly on his bar stool. He would give anything to help her, to take care of her the way that she deserved, and yet he knew that she would never accept his help. Ariel had always had a streak of headstrong independence in her that he loved; he suspected that, even if he hadn't been so adamantly shut out of her life, Ariel's handicap had only amplified those traits, making her more prone than ever toward preserving the independence she did enjoy.

"You know," Granny's voice cut into his thoughts as she placed a glass of iced water on the counter in front of him, "you could go over and talk to her, instead of staring at her like she's the catch of the day."

"I've tried talking to her. She doesn't seem to want to talk to me."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, reaching for a coffee pot to pour Leroy another cup of the bitter beverage before he returned to work in the mines. "All I know is it's a damn shame that you're vilified for supposedly disliking her because of that handicap, and yet, day after day, almost nobody in this diner ever stops by to so much as talk to her. She might welcome you more than you think."

She turned away to take another customer's order, and Eric peered over toward Ariel again, wondering whether he should chance it. He was trying to respect her wishes, if she didn't want him to be a part of her life, but now he eyed the stack of paperwork she was busy poring over, in askance. Was she truly working through her lunch hour because she needed to, or because she was lonely, and embarrassed to sit alone, day after day?

Making up his mind, Eric walked over to the table where Ariel sat, and pulled out one of the chairs. She looked up, staring at him in surprise. Eric sank into the chair, holding her gaze. Neither of them spoke a word for several heartbeats, until finally, he nodded at the stack of paperwork. "Busy week at the office?"

"You could say that." She gathered up some of the papers, avoiding his gaze. Her movements were hurried, almost clumsy. "What are you doing here, Eric? Your appointment isn't until Friday-"

"This has nothing to do with my appointment; we both know that."

She sighed, meeting his gaze with obvious reluctance. "Eric-"

"Look, I won't stay if I'm really unwelcome, Ariel, but regardless of all that's happened between us, I would at least like to be on friendly terms with one another. Avoiding each other has got to stop, don't you think?"

"I-yes, I guess so," she admitted, flushing pink. "Are you saying you want to be friends?" Her brow furrowed, and her expression became conflicted.

"No," he said succinctly. "But you know me, Ariel," he said, seeking her gaze again, only to find her steadfastly avoiding it, "if that's what you decide you want, I won't say no. Whatever we are, or become...that's up to you." He spied Granny returning with his glass of water, and stood up. "I'll see you on Friday. Take care." He stood up and made his way back to the counter, feeling her eyes on him the whole way.

"Well?" Granny demanded, when he sat down again and accepted the water from her.

He shrugged. "She didn't order me away."

Granny's gaze slid over to where Ariel sat. "No, I would imagine she wouldn't." She eyed Eric over the rims of her spectacles. "By the way, Ruby called a few minutes ago, said she was going to be late for her shift this afternoon. While she was on the phone, I asked her about the account opened in your name."

"Oh?" he responded.

"Mr. Grimsby didn't open the account."

Eric frowned. "I don't understand. Then who did? Carlotta?"

Granny's gaze slid over toward Ariel once more. "Guess again."