I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS FOR A WHILE, SO HERE IT IS! I'VE JUMPED ON THE TODDLER EMMA BANDWAGON. I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THIS A LITTLE LIGHT AND FUNNY, BUT ALSO ADD A BIT OF DARKNESS TO IT BECAUSE I DO THINK THAT IF THIS HAPPENED, SNOW AND JAMES WOULD BE TORN ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT TO BE HAPPY ABOUT HAVING A MINI-EMMA. ALSO, I WANTED THIS TO BE A LITTLE DIFFERENT THAN THE OTHER STORIES OUT THERE.
I DON'T OWN ONCE UPON A TIME.
"Charming." Snow says from the living room, a panicked tone creeping into her voice. Henry's still sleeping upstairs, and she doesn't want to wake him up. In an instant, James is at her side, his own eyes widening with shock and a bit of fear.
"Is that...?" He can't form a coherent thought, let alone a full sentence that provides answers.
"That's Emma." Snow confirms, her shock wearing away. "And she's little. Really little." She sweeps her eyes over the small, sleeping form on the couch. Blonde curls tumble from the girl's head, and she's curled into the fetal position.
"What do we do?" James' first instinct is to rush over and embrace the child, but somewhere in his rattled brain, reason takes hold. To Emma, it would seem like an attack, and they don't even know if the new Emma thinks like twenty eight year old Emma. In that case, waking up to find her father holding her might seem like an invasion of personal space. Even if this new Emma acted like a child and doesn't have the old Emma's mentality, having a strange person so close would probably scare her. As if on cue, the child stirs, rubbing groggily at her eyes. Beside him, he can feel Snow tense. "Wait here." He whispers.
"Who are you!?" Emma bursts, eyes narrowing, but they still see the fear. At the high-pitched, childlike voice, the two almost laugh. At least they have one question answered: Emma has no idea who they are. "Where am I?"
"Emma?" Snow calls out hesitantly from across the room, her voice calm and reassuring.
"How do you know my name?" The blonde crosses her arms, and it's obvious to husband and wife that their daughter is already suspicious of them.
"Do you know who we are?" Snow continues, reaching for James' hand. He gladly takes it.
"No… and you didn't answer my question."
"My name is–" She hesitates, wanting to say 'Mary Margaret', since that is the name Emma is most familiar with, but this Emma doesn't know that. So, she settles for "Snow. My name is Snow."
"That's a funny name." The child comments. "Who's he?"
"I'm James." He smiles warmly.
"We'll be right back, okay, Emma?" Snow drags her husband around the corner to their room. "We should tell her." She whispers.
"Tell her what?"
"That we're her parents. She has no idea… we can tell her that we were forced to give her away, Charming. She'll forgive us, and we can raise her. We can give her the life she deserved."
"Snow, Henry's upstairs." James reasons. "How's that going to work out?"
"We can tell her he's her brother." Then, it dawns on Snow. "But he'll lose his mother."
"Exactly." He sighs and watches as Snow fights tears. He pulls her in for a long hug.
"But she's our little girl… and she's actually little."
"I know." He runs his hands through her hair. Even though they were trying to be quiet, it seems Henry woke up. He pads down the stairs, and follows Snow and James' voices.
"Hi." The boy smiles, his hair sticking up in every which way. Then he realized something is off with his grandparents. "Wait, what's wrong?" Snow and James exchange a quick glance before James says,
"Henry, your mom… well, Emma's a toddler right now, cause of magic. We're not sure why it happened, but we'll figure something out, okay?"
"Wait, Emma's a toddler?" The boy seems to be taking it much better than Snow or James expected. "Can I see her?" Before anyone can tell him 'no', he bolts into the direction he last saw Emma –the couch. "Whoa…"
"Who are you?" Little Emma demands, but coming from such a small child and her voice sounding very un-Emma-like, Henry doubles over in laughter. "Hey! Don't laugh at me."
"Emma." Henry manages to choke out. "It's me, Henry."
"She doesn't know who any of us are." Snow whispers, her and James having made their way back to their daughter and grandson.
"Oh." The boy's face falls. "She doesn't?"
"No." James sighs.
"Hi, Emma." Henry says softly, taking a seat on the couch next to his mother. "My name's Henry."
"You already told me that." The girl huffs.
"I know, but just in case you didn't catch it the first time." He turns to face James. "Gramps, do I have to go to school today?"
"I think that would be best." The older man says. "Why don't you get ready?"
"Okay." He says after a moment. He gives Emma one last glance before getting up and trotting up the stairs.
"Emma, are you hungry or thirsty?" Snow asks, taking a daring step toward her daughter.
"No."
"How old are you?"
"Why do you care!? Nobody ever cares, so stop pretending." When the blonde slides off the couch, they realize that the t-shirt twenty eight year old Emma had been sleeping in is now an oversized nightgown on the small child.
"Emma, we care." Snow says desperately. "We love you more than anything."
"No, you don't." Emma clomps up the stairs, probably presuming that if she has a bedroom, it's up there.
"What should we do?" James whispers.
"Make breakfast. If there's one thing consistent about Emma, it's that she's always hungry." Snow suggests.
"I know you're the better cook, but she likes you better, and I think I can handle putting waffles in a toaster."
"Emma broke the toaster." She states matter-of-factly.
"Okay… I can unwrap a poptart. You still haven't gotten a new toaster?"
"Charming, things were a little hectic. And Emma doesn't like me better. Especially not now, since she doesn't have any recollection of who we are. I'll make her some pancakes while you make sure she doesn't run away or something."
"Okay. I can do that." On his way to find Emma, Henry nearly crashes into him.
"Grandma, can I have a poptart for the bus? I'm late."
"Yeah, here." Snow tosses him a strawberry one. "Be careful and have fun!"
"Emma?" James calls out quietly. He finds her in her room. Or rather, her room that Henry has taken over.
"Why do you have this?" The child asks, sitting on top of the bed, cradling her baby blanket close. It's the first time James has seen it since he put her into the wardrobe all those years ago, and he blinks back tears. "What did I do?" Still, Emma senses that James is upset. She has tears in her eyes, and her bottom lip is trembling, and he wants nothing more than to hold his little girl.
"Oh, Emma, nothing." Without thinking, he rushes to her and sits on the bed. "Nothing at all. I just want to help you." Well, it's not a complete lie. He's thankful that his daughter hasn't become a human lie detector yet.
"I didn't?" The blonde seems so surprised that she hasn't done anything wrong that she momentarily doesn't believe him, but then she decides that he won't gain anything from lying to her.
"No, Baby. Not at all." He wraps his arms around the daughter, and she whimpers. "Did I hurt you?" He asks worriedly.
"You didn't." Emma states glumly. "My foster dad did."
"He what!?" James can't control his anger towards a man he has never met. Emma shrinks away, and he realizes his mistake. "Baby, I'm not mad at you. I just… I'm mad at your foster dad for hurting you. You don't deserve to be hurt, ever." Even though her ribs protest, the blonde stays close to a man she doesn't know just so that he can embrace her, and she feels safe for the first time since her first family, the Swan's, got rid of her. "Emma, do you remember his name?"
"Um…" she considers the ramifications of telling James, not wanting her foster father to punish her more for telling him, but eventually says, "I think it starts with an 'S'. Not the Swan's, though. They were nice. Until they had their own kid, so they sent me back." Emma adds as an afterthought. "It might've been Smith. But I don't pay attention to who people are anymore." Well, even if they were the Smith's, it doesn't do James much good; it's the most popular last name.
"Snow asked you how old you are earlier. We didn't quite get an answer… care to tell me?" He prods gently.
"Five." The child declares proudly.
"And a five year old needs to grow." James says, taking in once again just how small she is. In fact, she doesn't look anything like the Emma he knew. "How about some pancakes?"
"Really?" The hopefulness in the blonde's voice when she says the word sounds nothing like the way the adult would. It lacks the sarcasm and annoyed-ness James is so used to.
"Yeah, really. Snow's an amazing cook. Come on." He grasps her hand, and she gladly takes it. "Whenever I try to cook, I burn stuff. Once, she even kicked me out of the kitchen for a month until I took cooking lessons."
"Did you take them?" Emma asks as they slowly go down the stairs to make sure she doesn't trip.
"I did, but they weren't much help." They laugh.
"Perfect timing." Snow smiles. "The plates are on the table." Emma bounds over to a chair and climbs onto it. Snow and James take their seats at the table. The little girl looks at them, eyes darting like a ping pong ball, a sheepish expression on her face. "Are you okay?" Snow asks.
"I can't cut stuff." Emma says, looking down. Oh, right. Of course. They completely forgot that the child can't use a knife.
"Here, let me help." Snow shifts the plate so she can reach it and easily cuts the pancakes. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Emma stabs a small piece with her fork, and her eyes light up when she pops it into her mouth. "Are these chocolate chips!?"
"Yeah… is that okay?"
"I've never had chocolate chip pancakes before. This is awesome."
"I'm glad you like them." Snow chuckles, exchanging a loving glance with James. He nods. "Emma, can I tell you something?"
"Did I do something wrong?" The girl instantly becomes crestfallen.
"No, not at all, Baby. If you ever did, I'd tell you, okay? Emma, you're perfect." Snow says.
"I don't understand why you guys are being so nice." She forks another bite into her mouth.
"Because… Emma, we're your parents." The adults hold their breath, waiting for their daughter's response.
"Why'd you leave me on the side of the road?" The blonde asks, eerily calm. Snow knows that that's just the calm before the storm.
"We didn't." James says desperately.
"Then why does all my foster parents tell me you did?"
"Emma, do you believe in fairytales?" Snow adds quickly, "like Disney?", remembering adult Emma making Disney references once or twice when they were in the Enchanted Forest.
"I know about them. I don't usually watch 'em, though. They're not very entertaining, with the princesses always waiting for their prince to save them." At this, Snow and James full on laugh, because that is so something the Emma they knew would say. "Are you saying they're real?"
"Yes." James smiles. "You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming." He puts it into terms she knows.
"So how'd I end up on the side of the road?"
"We wanted you, more than anything." Snow clarifies.
"But the Evil Queen –her name's Regina– she wanted us to be unhappy." James desperately wishes that his daughter knew who Henry is so that he can compare the situations for her. "She cast a curse that sent everyone here, to Storybrooke. Everyone except you."
"Why not me?"
"There was a wardrobe that Gepetto made. It would send you to the same world we were going to, but you wouldn't be cursed. Your destiny was to break the curse." James explains.
"How come you guys didn't look for me if you wanted me so bad? How come you didn't come to… here… with me?"
"The plan was me to go through the wardrobe while you were still in my belly." Snow says. "But you came early, and the wardrobe only took one…" her voice cracks as she replays the worst moment of her life. "We had to give you your best chance." She finishes, gaining strength from James' touch.
"Your best chance was to not be cursed." James jokes. "And if we didn't… Regina would have killed you."
"We're so sorry that you've had such a hard life. We never wanted any of that for you, but it was the only way we could keep you safe." The two finish their story. Snow silently hopes that five year old Emma is more receptive to the whole thing than twenty eight year old Emma was.
SO THIS WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO BE A ONE SHOT, BUT I DECIDED TO MAKE IT A MULTICHAPTER FIC. FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!