It's Complicated

Chapter 1

This story is rated M for a reason. There will be sex and violence if you don't like that don't read any further. Please read the author's note at the end. 

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Emma was not the tearful goodbye kind of person, and Walsh was not the exception to this rule. Walsh never made things easy to say the least. He got too serious too quickly and she wasn't ready for that, so Emma did what she does best and ran. Naturally they fought and a few unforgettable words were exchanged, so she walked out his front door, not looking back.

That's why Mary Margaret is on her way with wine and ice cream. Emma doesn't really want the ice cream, but she suspected it was more to make Mary Margaret feel like a good friend. Emma will never turn down a glass of wine and she figures maybe the company will do some good. Mary Margaret was the one person in her life who always seemed to be there for her. Well, her and David, they were a package deal and had become her family (for lack of a better word) since she moved to Storybrooke.

Before them she there hadn't been anyone in her life. As a kid she bumped from one foster home to the next. She learned how to fend for herself and was convinced she didn't need anyone. However, Emma Swan needed someone, no matter how much she wasn't willing to admit that.

Three sharp knocks at the door snap Emma out of her reverie. She opens the door and sure enough there stands Mary Margaret with ice cream in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. Emma gives her a weak smile and let's her in.

"How are you doing? Horrible I'm sure, that was a silly question. What do you want first, the wine or the ice cream?" The elementary school teacher asks with a caring and sympathetic smile. Emma locks the door and they head into the kitchen.

"Definitely the wine," Emma chuckles, "I'll hold off on the ice cream for now."

"More for me then," Mary Margaret jokes. She opens the carton of ice cream and scoops some out for herself. Emma opens the bottle of wine.

"You didn't say much over the phone. How did it happen?" Mary Margaret asks cautiously. Emma sighs as she pours the wine into two glasses, making sure to put a little more in her own glass. She knew the question was coming, but that didn't mean she wanted to answer it.

"He proposed," Emma said slowly, "and I wasn't ready for that. I freaked out, tried to run, and we fought. He said- we said- some nasty things and I left," Emma says and then takes a sip of wine. Mary Margaret sets down the bowl of ice cream and takes Emma's hand in hers.

"Oh Emma, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Mary Margaret," Emma says. No more was said on the topic, and they spent the rest of the night drinking, eating ice cream, and not talking about Walsh.

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The next week proves to be a difficult one and not because of Walsh, but because of the fact that her job as Deputy is owning her ass. One call after another rolls through the station, driving her to the ground. After one particularly long shift, Emma made her way over to The Beanstalk, the local bar in Storybrooke. Emma thinks the name is ridiculous, but it's the only place in Storybrooke to get a drink after Granny's closes.

Emma manages to slip into the last stool at the bar. August, her friend and bartender, catches her eye, smiles, and pours her a glass of whiskey. He passes it to her and she gladly accepts it.

"Long day, Emma?" he questions as she downs about half of her drink.

"Like you wouldn't believe," she sighs and August gets called down to the end of the bar.

"Hold on, I want to hear all about it," he says as he walks away.

"I'd know that look anywhere. Is work that bad, love?" The man in the stool next to her says. Is that a Irish accent? Emma wonders. She gives him her full attention. A good looking man with dark brown hair and stubble, smartly dressed in a navy suit with a red tie. What seems to stick out the most to Emma was his eyes. They were a sharp blue, unlike any blue she'd ever seen. She shakes her head and takes a drink from her glass.