She had thought that Neal was the one. She really had. Colors had not bloomed in their vision when they caught each others' eye, but the world had been brighter. Until he met Tamara, that is. Neal had came into their apartment, happier than she had ever seen him. She couldn't even be mad, not really. Who was she to stand in the way of true love? She'd seen what it was like when you met your other half, seen how happy it made people. She'd also seen how hard it was when they had to be separated for too long and the devastation that was wrought when one lost the other.
So she'd moved back in with her folks, the Nolans welcoming their baby girl back with open arms, glad that she was back. They were so happy, they knew their only child was a bit too young at the tender age of eighteen to be on her own. They also knew that their darling girl deserved every chance to find what they had.
Then she started feeling nauseous. Thinking it was just the flu, she went about her business, until it had been longer than she knew was normal. Then she realized she'd missed her period, but figured it was due to the stress of the current goings on. It wasn't until she'd missed another that she'd began to connect the dots. In a panic, she had run to the nearest drug store and bought not one, but five pregnancy tests.
An hour later she was sitting on the edge of the tub, gazing at each stick, each little plus sign taunting her. She started to weep silently, what was she to do? She was only eighteen, for goodness sake, much too young to be a mother! And what would her parents think?!
A knock softly reached her ears. "Emma, sweetie, are you alright? You've been in there for an awfully long time." Mary Margaret had asked through the door. What was she to say? Yeah Mom, it's nothing really, I just happen to be knocked up by a guy who found his soulmate and probably wants nothing to do with me or this kid! I'm just fucking peachy! She'd remained silent for a moment before she'd slowly got up and unlocked the door. Seeing her mother, Emma had crumpled into her mother's arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" her mother asked her in concern. It was now or never.
"Mom, I don't know what to do. I haven't got a good job, I'm not on my own, I'm only eighteen! I can't take care of a baby! I don't know what to do, Mom!" She'd babbled, stumbling over her words while crying into Mary Margret's shirt.
It had taken a few seconds before what her daughter had said registered. She'd gently moved Emma at arms length. Green met green. "I know you're pregnant, Emma, I was just waiting for you to talk to me about it." Then Mary Margret smiled, "Sweetie, we're going to get through this, okay? Whatever you decide to do, your father and I will support you no matter what."
"You're what?!" David cried in shock.
"She's pregnant, dear." Mary Margret supplied.
"How did this- I know how this happened- how could this have- I'm going to kill him." He rambled, before getting up and heading up the stairs. Emma followed behind him.
"Dad, you're not really going to kill him." She deadpanned.
David plopped down into his desk chair in his half of the office and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a bottle and a shot glass. Opening the bottle, he poured the alcohol into the glass, said, "No, I'm not. But I need a freaking drink." and downed the liquid in one swift gulp. Emma rarely saw her parents drink, normally only on special occasions, so she was rather stunned by her father's actions. She knew it was bad, but this bad? "My little girl- pregnant." he sighed, putting his head in his hands.
"And we will support her in whatever she decides to do, right David?" Mary Margret asked pointedly, causing David to look up, eyes wide.
"Of course! Of course, Emma- how you must be feeling right now. Are you okay?" he asked, realizing that his daughter needed him.
"Not really." she mumbled, tired and slightly nauseous.
"Let's let you rest, sweetheart." her mother said, leading Emma out of the office toward her room.
Adoption, that's what she had decided to do with this life growing inside of her. She couldn't take care of someone else, she was barely old enough to take care of herself! At least until, after fifteen hours in labor, a tired Emma got to hold the little one. He was so tiny and she instantly fell in love with the little bundle in her arms.
The doctor asked her once more if she really wanted to give him up. She didn't even pause for a second. "I'm keeping him. My son."
"What are you going to name him?" David asked his exhausted daughter.
That brought her up short. "I don't know, what to you think, kid?" to which the baby just snuggled deeper into her embrace.
Mary Margret's brow furrowed in thought, "How about Leopold, after grandpa?" she suggested.
"I'm sorry, mother, but I'm not subjecting my child to the torture that name is guaranteed to give him." Emma replied as David quietly snickered beside Mary Margret.
Mary Margaret sighed, glaring at her husband, "How about Henry? It was grandpa's middle name."
Emma paused to consider this. "Henry… I like it. Henry… David! Henry David Nolan."
David could only beam with pride at his daughter's choice to include him.
Nineish Years Later
Emma waved goodbye to her son and parents. Henry was staying the weekend with his grandparents, just as he did every other weekend. At first it had been Neal who had taken him on weekends, but Tamara didn't like children and slowly Neal acquiesced to Tamara's desire for Henry to spend less time at their place. Then, over time, Neal started to visit his son less and less, to the point where Henry barely saw him. Oh, Neal still loved his son, but corporate life was hectic. He'd still send birthday cards and presents, but Henry still secretly wished he had a better connection to his father. David tried his best to be a good role model for the boy, but it just wasn't the same.
Emma drove along in her light yellow – so she had been told, at least it was an appealing shade of gray to her – bug until she reached an apartment complex. She parked and pulled out her phone, shooting a text to Belle to let her know she was there. A few minutes later Belle came out of the door, dressed in a pretty sundress of which she had no idea of its hue. All this lack of color was frustrating. She had to constantly ask her mother and Belle for advice on which clothes matched, which colors to wear, which makeup shades made her look good.
Belle opened up the door and paused, looking Emma up and down. "Emma, really? It's your birthday! You should be at least a little bit dressier than usual!" She had had a celebration with her parents and kid earlier. Cake, ice cream, presents, and the kid had insisted on a netflix marathon of Buffy – her favorite show.
"What? I like it and it's easier for me to know that the colors don't clash if I just wear this." She and Belle were constantly at odds with how Emma dressed, Belle wishing Emma would use more variety, wanting her friend to have fun with the way she looked. But true to Emma's word, it was easier for her if all of her shirts were gray so she'd know that they didn't clash with the red of her leather jacket – she'd hoped she hadn't been lied to about the color, so her unofficial uniform was here to stay.
"I insist you come up and change, just this once!" her Australian accent more pronounced at her insistence, to which Emma sighed.
"We're not even the same size!"
"I have some of your clothes that you keep 'forgetting' here." Belle shot her a pointed look.
"Ah, hell, fine!" she growled, exasperated with her friends attempts to change her attire. She put the car in park and then turned it off, slamming the door and stomping towards the door of the building, Belle following behind with a satisfied smile on her face. She had a good feeling about tonight.
