Crawling Time
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.
Author's Note: For saralilliee.
She doesn't dwell on the past. What's done is done, and they can't turn back the clock. But the first night Emma and Henry are away, as she tosses and turns while Charming snores lightly beside her, she finally closes her eyes and allows herself to imagine what could have been just once.
Emma's just started to figure out her arms and legs are useful for transportation, and with all her heart she wishes Charming hadn't left for the annual meeting with their allies before she did. It was an event they would normally attend together, but with winter starting to bite the air she'd loathed the idea of taking Emma on such a journey. And so, as she was still supplying their daughter's primary source of nutrition, it was decided Charming would represent them both.
Her thoughts are with him that night as she watches Emma play in her nursery after dinner, so much so that she doesn't catch her daughter trying to support herself on her knees and hands until she face-plants and cries out. In an instant she sheds the cloak she'd been using as a blanket and plucks Emma up, wiping away her tears.
"Now, now, you're all right, sweetheart."
But Emma continues to sniffle, her forehead wrinkled just like her father's, and Snow has to swallow hard, a few tears escaping before she can rein them in. Managing everyday castle affairs by herself while taking care of Emma, even with help from Red and Granny, is more stressful than she cares to admit. But Charming is missing out on weeks of watching their daughter grow so she refuses to complain.
Seeing that Emma's calmed down, and is trying to eat her necklace, however, she sighs before kissing her girl on the nose and placing her back amongst her toys. Taking only a moment to wash away the tears that've escaped from the water basin a few feet away, she finishes to look to her daughter and panics.
Emma's not on her rug anymore.
But then she hears it, a baby's giggles, and spies her daughter playing with her forgotten cloak. Or rather Charming's. Which can only mean she'd crawled to get to it.
"Oh Emma," she breathes, walking briskly back to sit beside her daughter.
Her little fingers find the fur collar particularly fascinating, and Snow has to smile despite her renewed tears.
"Yes, Emma, this is your Papa's. And I'm sure he'll be happy to find out that you crawled to see it over everything else."
And as Snow finally feels herself slip into sleep in Storybrooke, a smile on her face despite the twinge in her heart, she swears she can almost feel the softness of that cloak and Emma's little hands.
Fin