She was still flushed and a little short of breath when she stepped outside her parent's front door. The sweet tingling in her lips a vivid reminder of how he was kissing her before she forced him to pull away and, with a promise of meeting up later at Granny's and a whining moan in response, she headed off to Mary Margaret and David's place. She waited a moment before rummaging in her pocket for the key, allowing herself a few seconds to catch her breath and make her pulse return to normal.

It was everything so new, so intense, that she sometimes felt like living in a fairy tale – which actually was quite opportune given the situation. Since they were back from their time travel adventure, she had spent almost all her time with him, discovering and experiencing whatever their relationship had become now. She wasn't good at defining things. The only thing she was certain of was that it felt good, and right, and that was everything she needed now. The way he made her feel so loved, and cherished, and home, was like a healing balm for her battered soul. How she had been able to restrain herself from touching him before was a mystery to her. But now that she had tasted him all she could think about was the feeling of his hand running across her body, the way he tangled his fingers in her hair, his warm breath provoking waves of pleasure over her skin, his skilful mouth doing things that could oh-so well drive her to insanity. She blushed again at the thought. Damn him, he was like a drug.

However, she was Emma Swan, and keeping her feet on the ground had always been her specialty. She needed her space as well as time to figure out her new life. Where she was going, what she wanted, and more importantly, what it meant to be a daughter. She had to let herself be daddy's baby girl, mom's little woman, and her brother's overprotective older sister. Taking on this role was almost as scary and unnatural for her as opening up to love again. But she was done with running, she was determined to make this work, both with Killian and her parents.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the knob and entered the apartment. As seemed to be her custom those days, Mary Margaret was sitting in the recliner by the window. Little Neal was peacefully sleeping in the buggy she and David had chosen for him days before he was born. She smiled at the memory. Not even the wicked witch could prevent them from preparing for the arrival of the new family member. How could she ever doubt her home was here, with them? She silently thanked the pirate again for pushing her to open her eyes and to listen what her heart had been screaming all along.

Closing the door behind her, she left the keys on the counter and walked towards her mother.

"Emma, honey!" the genuine joy in Mary Margaret's voice made her heart twitch a bit. "Come sit down, do you want something to drink?" she asked, setting aside the princely work of crochet she was working on. It was an intricate embroidery of golden thread forming her brother's initials. She couldn't contain a small chuckle, they couldn't deny their royal ascendance whether they were in the Enchanted Forest or in Storybrooke.

"No, no, I'm fine." Gesturing with the hand for her mother to not get up, Emma pulled off her leather jacket and sit on the chair arm. "Where's dad?"

"He's at the station, now that you're rarely seen over there he's working some extra hours to reduce the backlog." A pang of guilt hit Emma, she certainly had been dedicated to other more enjoyable activities lately and almost forgotten about her duties as the town's sheriff.

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't know…" she could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks.

"It's okay sweetie, your father may complain about the liberties Killian takes with you, but the truth is, we completely understand. You've been under so much pressure. The stress of leaving your life in New York behind, struggling to bring together your old and new memories, accepting your magic… it's been a lot to take in. You deserve to indulge yourself, Emma, and honestly we're so happy to see you're always smiling now," a cheeky knowing glance crossed her mother's features, "you're glowing".

She opened her mouth to protest, an unconvincing reply dying in her mouth. Even when she tried not to look affected, the corner of her lips involuntarily twitched up, making every attempt to deny what was evident futile. Mary Margaret was right, that stupid smile had seemed to be stuck in her face for days.

Averting her eyes to the little form next to her, she started to absentmindedly stroke one of his tiny hands, thankful to find something to divert her attention and let the unfamiliar feeling sink in. Then she looked back at the delicate blanket resting at his feet, the one her mother was embroidering before she arrived. "It's beautiful" she said nodding at it, "a bit extravagant, maybe, but beautiful. Nice work, mom".

This time, it was her mother who displayed a blithe smile, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"What?" Emma asked, a confused frown forming on her brow.

"Nothing," she raised her hands in defence with a flutter of eyelids, partly amused with her daughter's lack of understanding, partly surprised she didn't get how precious these little things could be. After a brief pause, her smile widened. "It's just… it's so good to hear you calling us mom and dad at last."

Some weeks ago, her first reaction to such statement would had been to roll her eyes and make fun of her mother's sentimentality. But now everything was different, and all this finally had meaning for her. It felt real.

"I'm sorry it took me a while to accept who I was". She lowered her eyes to the floor, unable to confront Snow's face. She wasn't sure what she'd find there. Disappointment? Longing? Sorrow? All because of her fears and insecurities.

Noticing her uneasiness, Mary Margaret reached out for her hand and forced her to look up. There wasn't any sign of melancholy in her expression, only affection and gratitude. Emma let herself relax, her smile the living image of her mother's.

"Now you have a home, you don't need to keep looking for it anymore".

"I know", the sincerity of her words causing a soft lump in her chest, "I am where I want to be, with the people I love. I have found my family, you, dad, my little brother, Henry, Killian…" the last name left butterflies in her stomach as she wondered when she'd started to include him in this group. But it was without a doubt that he belonged there, with her, in this big messy family.

"You know, you could go one step further…" the lilting tone in her voice made Emma to raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"… You could change your surname."

That took her aback. "WHOAA THERE! It's true that things between us are going surprisingly well, and we get along great, and he makes me happy, and I feel more loved than I ever was in my whole life, but… I don't know how all this works in your land, but here, that's rushing things a little bit too much. I mean, I don't know if changing my name to Emma Jones will be in the cards for me someday, but now? It's ridiculous." Her cheeks were flashing red, she was sure she must look like a lit Christmas bulb. And the sudden guffaw of her mother didn't help at all.

"Stop laughing." That only made her cackle louder. "MOM!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she tried to make her voice steady, but she was choking on her laughs, "Emma, sweetheart, I meant you should change your surname to ours, and start calling yourself Emma Nolan, given you're our daughter. But clearly you have other ideas in mind…" she couldn't help but to start sniggering once more.

"I don't!"

"Oh no, you don't", she said faking a stern look, old mocking Snow White taking over her customarily demure behaviour, "why would you?" With a conspiratorial smirk dancing in her lips, she winked an eye at her daughter. When she didn't get any reply, she stood up and set out to the kitchen to prepare them some tea.

"I don't…" Emma repeated to herself, looking back at her sleeping brother. Her forefinger was clasped into his tiny fist, as though he was also welcoming his sister to the family. She smiled at him with tenderness. She didn't know why the thought of marrying Killian had popped into her mind so easily, as if it'd be the most natural conclusion to the question at hand. But it did, and the feeling that came along with it was warmer than she was willing to admit. She wasn't lying to Mary Margaret when she said they were still far from reaching that point in their relationship. However, to Emma's surprise, her head wasn't screaming with fear as she would had expected. The thing was, that forming a family of her own, along with Henry and perhaps a little baby of untamed black hair and green eyes grabbing her fingers, was a future she could actually picture in her head. A happy one. With him. She blurted out a snort. Son of a bitch, he was right again… And she couldn't wait to find him at Granny's and kick his handsome ass for it.

Maybe she could call herself Emma Jones someday. Maybe, just maybe, it didn't sound that bad after all.

Maybe someday.