Not Even Darkness
by misscam
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: Set pretty much immediately after 2x17.
II
Somehow, walking to what she thought would be her death was easier than walking back to her life, Mary Margaret finds. Now she stands at the stairs up to her loft – their loft now – having walked slowly from Regina's mansion after she managed to stop the worst sobs.
She can hear David's raised voice even through the door as she walks up to it, the words muffled but the tone not. He is angry, desperate, scared and perhaps even a little lost. She's only heard him like that a few times before, each time like a stab to her heart.
Now too. Her slightly blackened heart is apparently not beyond loving him far too much still. Enough to be willing to die for him, die for all of them but perhaps selfishly also for it just to be over.
She eases the door open, right away noticing David on the phone looking agitated, Emma standing close by. Emma notices first, the emotion on her face so raw that Mary Margaret draws a sharp breath. Then her daughter seems to regain a little composure, touching David's elbow with a hand. He looks up, then follows Emma's gaze to the door.
She can't manage a smile, not that it would matter since he would see straight through it and to the desperation she knows must be etched into her face. Her barks something into the phone and hangs up, already moving towards her and crushing her into an embrace.
"I thought... I feared..." he murmurs against her skin, not managing to speak his worst fear out loud, but she can still feel it in the force of his grip on her. She also knows she was quite close to fulfilling his fear and the thought makes her press her head against his chest.
They stand very still as Mary Margaret suddenly feels another hand on her back. It's Emma, one hand on her and one on David and a moment later there are fast steps coming down the stairs and Henry flings his arms around as many as he can reach.
Her little family. She can't, she can't, she can't, and she balls her hands into fists and pushes them against Charming's chest. He seems to catch on a little, easing his grip and stepping back to look at her.
What he sees on her face makes his jaw set a little.
"Where were you, Mary Margaret?" Henry asks, looking up at her. "I'm sorry I yelled at everyone. I just want the fighting to stop."
"I know," she manages, fighting to keep her voice even and not quite managing. "I want that too."
"We all want that," Emma shoots in, putting a hand on Henry's back. "Come on, kid. Let's make some dinner for your grandparents."
Henry gives Mary Margaret one last look as he follows Emma, leaving David and her. She lowers her eyes a little as he shuts the door firmly behind her, locking it before taking her hand and leading her to the bed.
She sits down a little numbly while he takes her coat off, finally kneeling down to look up at her. He's composed himself, she can tell, that expression she remembers so well whenever he was being the (joint) ruler of the kingdom and didn't want to give too much away.
"You went to Regina," he states more than asks.
"Yes."
He exhales a ragged breath. "Why?"
"If she took my heart, I thought that could be the end of it," she says simply, feeling her eyes water a little again. Funny. She thought she was all out of tears.
He closes his eyes, the pain flashing across his face slamming a little into her. She reaches for him without thinking, putting her hands on his shoulders.
"No," he says forcefully, eyes so very blue as he opens them and fixes his gaze on her. "You will not do that to Emma. You will not do that to Henry. You will not do that to me."
She is crying now, gasping a little as she tries to get the next words out. "She would come after you. I just wanted you safe."
"I'd rather be in danger all the days of my life than live one without you," he swears, and she knows he means it. She knew he felt that way even before she went to Regina's. What he knows as well as she does is that he would still die to keep her safe. As she would. As she tried to.
That's the problem with trying to protect those you love. They'll want to protect you right back.
"Charming..." she sobs a little, digging her fingers into his shoulder. "There was something dark in my heart. She showed me. She said it would spread, that it would tear my family apart."
He finally pushes himself off the floor, sitting down on the bed and lifting her into his lap. His arms go around her, his hands moving up and down her arms.
"No," he says softly, his voice so certain she feels her own breathing steady somewhat. "You won't let it happen. Your daughter won't let it happen. I won't let it happen. This is our family. You need to have faith in it."
Emma, she thinks. Emma had faith in her when no one else had, not even cursed David Nolan, something she knows pains Charming still.
"You need to have faith in yourself," he goes on. "You've been punishing yourself over this. That means the rest of your heart is good, will always be good. Regina only knows her own heart. She doesn't know yours. I do."
She lifts her head slightly to look him in the face, wanting to believe him and fearing to do so at the same time. Hope. She wants to cling to it so very much.
"I do," he repeats again, tilting his head to kiss her lips very softly, then her eyelids as she closes her eyes and draws a shuddering breath. Charming, her Charming, for a moment making her feel like Snow again.
"You need some food," he says against her skin, lifting her to settle her against the pillows before standing up. "I'll help with dinner."
She watches him walk away, knowing the conversation isn't finished. He's still angry too, she knows, burying it for now but it will come back some day. She would be furious with him too if he did something like this. The part of her that isn't grieving and devastated is even a little angry with herself.
She closes her eyes to the sounds of the kitchen for a while, listening to her little family being just that. They would survive without her, she knows, for all they might deny it. Emma and David so alike and still waiting to discover it, and Henry with such faith in the future. They would survive.
It is Emma who finally comes over with a plate, sitting down as David did. She too looks angry, but with a little less composure than her father.
"Learn to live with it," Emma says, holding out the plate as Charming would hold a sword. "You did something less than great. You think you're the only one to do that?"
"Emma..."
"No. You learn to live with it. You're not abandoning me again. Eat."
Hesitantly, Mary Margaret takes the plate and Emma's face softens, remaining sitting while Mary Margaret eats. The food tastes like ash, but Emma's gaze on her makes her eat it all anyway. Such a bright, bright gaze, seeming to chase the darkness away.
When the plate is empty, Emma seems pleased, taking it away. David has been eating with Henry, Mary Margaret notices, now washing up while Emma does the drying. Henry hesitantly leaves them both to it, walking over to her instead.
"I hope you feel better soon, Mary Margaret," he says, the grandchild comforting the adult, and how she wishes she could share his faith that everything could be fixed by something as simple as removing magic.
"Thank you, Henry," she says instead, pushing herself off the bed. She can feel gazes on her as she walks to the bathroom, but no one says anything. Once inside she shuts the door, undressing with numb fingers.
She turns the water on as hot as possible, feeling the water almost scald her skin and leave it tingling and red. She closes her eyes to the feeling of it, as if the water can wash away everything else too. Faintly, she hears the door open and close. She just waits while she hears clothing hit the floor and then Charming steps in behind her and she leans back against him.
"Henry and Emma took a walk," he murmurs as she tilts her head back a little against his shoulder. She stands still while he reaches for the soap, lathering and then starting to wash her skin inch by inch. It is a caress too, slow and loving, and she tries to focus her whole mind on how it feels.
When he finishes with the soap, he reaches for the shampoo, washing her hair with the same slow pace. Then conditioner, caressing her scalp with his fingers as he works it in then washes it out.
Finally, he turns her around to face him, looking at her as the water seems to caress his face.
"I can't lose you," he says simply, kissing her as the water washes over them both. When he moves to pull away, she catches his lower lip between hers and links her hands behind his back at the same time. He makes a soft noise at that and she realises it's about the first active thing she's done since she walked back home.
Passive was always such a Mary Margaret thing, never Snow.
She keeps her arms around him even as he turns the water off, lifting her and letting her deepen the kiss as he carries her to the towels. As he dries them both, she kisses his neck, his shoulder, his chest, pausing above his heart. Putting a palm to it, she can feel his heartbeats, steady and sure and nothing dark about them.
Maybe they're strong enough to beat for both of them. Until she knows if her own heart can even be saved.
As if he can tell what she is thinking, he puts a hand on hers, his thumb caressing her skin as his heartbeats against her palm continue.
Maybe. A faint sort of hope, to think nothing is certain, not even darkness.
As she lifts her gaze to his face, she can see the certainty on his face, brighter than anything she knows, maybe even brighter than the darkness. Just as bright as Emma's, and they're both still with her, both still loving her, both still her family. Both still claiming her heart.
Maybe, just maybe.
But hope enough to live on.
FIN