|Emma Swan finally found her fairytale (lostfairytale) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2012-06-13 01:12:00
|Entry tags:||emma swan, jim moriarty|
Who: Jim Moriarty and Emma Swan
What: Discussions on a word the Consulting Criminal and the Abandoned Princess can't seem to see
When: Sometime after this but before this.
Where: The Moriarty-Swan house. You read that right.
Warnings: God, it's these two. Don't read on an empty stomach. Or with small children around.
Emma was exhausted. But she kept going. Though she considered her ridiculous and kind of stupid, Romana did have a point. They really weren't that different, the two of them. One day, Emma would be in the same place. One day, she'd have to decide between the people of Lawrence and the man who'd offered her the world. It was a choice she wasn't looking forward to. And so she continued taking each day at a time, swearing to herself over and over that she could get him to change. Oh, he'd never be a model citizen. She might not make the best choices, but she wasn't stupid. Jim Moriarty would never be what anyone would call a 'nice guy'. But maybe, just maybe, she could prevent the muderer in him.
Just in case, though... Just in case, she threw herself into helping with the plastic issue. First to help Jo find Chuck, and then simply to help. She'd done all the research she could, she'd given Claudia as many clues and tips as her non-sci-fi-loving, non-technological self could. She could hack a computer, but that was about it.
Well. She hadn't exactly been the most law abiding citizen growing up, either.
Jim either wasn't home when she first got there or else she couldn't find him. And calling the huge place 'home' was difficult for her, still. She'd been staying with him more or less constantly since Pestilence had landed her in a pathetic pile of pain. But officially moving in? That was a big step, one she hadn't made with anyone in a very long time, unless Mary Margaret counted. And in this scenario, she didn't think she did. But Jim's staff knew her, they actually liked her, and that was just...strange. But not entirely a bad strange. They took care of her, even if they did find it weird that she still attempted to clean up after herself or cook her own breakfast.
Knowing she had some extra time, she hopped in the shower to try and rid herself of the smell of kerosene, melting plastic, and that weird lingering barbeque smell. She found she didn't feel vulnerable, though, when she entered the living room with damp hair and a tank top and jogging pants. If Jim did feel...well, that way, about her, he would no matter what she wore. Maybe it wasn't the attire of a fairytale princess, but it was Emma Swan and he'd have to live with it. She wasn't her mother. He'd learned that quickly enough. If he wanted the true fairytale, he'd found the wrong woman.
But he'd claimed to want to give her a fairytale of her own. Her own story. So maybe, just maybe, this hardly put together, smart mouthed, afraid to drop certain words in anyone's ears girl was fine with him.
She curled up on the couch with her knees tucked beneath her, ignoring the television and a book lying about in favor of silence. Silence was definitely preferred. Gave her time to think about what the hell she'd gotten herself into.