give me a shot at the night

Emma stares at her wrist in her lap, her breathing getting shallow; she even tries, stupidly, to scrub the letters off but like David's and Mary Margaret's they're stuck fast. Forever. She has a soulmate. Somewhere in London, her soulmate is walking around—and probably just found her own initials tattooed onto their wrist. She might be within days of meeting them. Soulmate!AU