A/N: I'm finally back with another story! I debated forever about whether or not to post this, but finally decided, why not?
This one-shot takes place after Emma gets back from the beanstalk, but before they find out that Aurora has been seeing Henry in her dreams. So, for the purposes of this story, just pretend that at least one night passed between those two events. Also, since the show seems to be sticking with calling present-day Snow "Mary Margaret," that's what I went with as well.
Emma lay on the ground listening to the crackle of the fire. Mary Margaret sat next to her, taking her turn keeping watch while the others slept. Emma could feel her mother's gaze on her, but she kept her eyes shut tightly, feigning sleep. She felt guilty, but she knew the brunette was still a little upset about the stunt she'd pulled with the beanstalk, and she just wasn't up for talking about it. Plus, there was the matter of that hug. Although it wasn't the first time she'd hugged her mother, it was the first time that she'd been the one to initiate the embrace, and she was still sorting out how she felt about her uncharacteristic display of affection. She sighed internally, trying in vain to silence the thoughts in her head; no wonder she wasn't able to sleep.
Mary Margaret gazed at her daughter's still form as if burning a hole in her back would somehow force her to talk. She knew that Emma wasn't asleep, and she tried not to feel hurt that the woman so desperately wanted to avoid talking with her. She fought the urge to reach out and rub her the blonde's arm, knowing full-well that the results would be disastrous. Instead she focused on what it had felt like when Emma hugged her earlier, and the feeling of joy that had filled her being at not only being able to hold her daughter, but knowing that her daughter wanted to be held by her. Her heart constricted tightly when she thought about how close she'd been to losing her today. She'd been furious and hurt when she found out that Emma had ordered Mulan to cut down the stalk, but she just couldn't bring herself to stay mad at her daughter, and the moment she'd held her in her arms, all her anger had instantly evaporated.
A sudden cry pierced the night, shaking both women from their thoughts. Emma sat up, not caring that her mother would know she hadn't really been sleeping, and spotted Aurora thrashing around across the campsite. Mary Margaret was by her side in an instant, gently shaking the frightened young girl, willing her awake. Emma watched the wave of relief that passed over Aurora's terrified features as her gaze met Mary Margaret's loving one. The young girl launched herself into Mary Margaret's arms, clinging to her shirt as she cried. "It was the same dream again! That same horrible room!"
"Shhh," Mary Margaret murmured soothingly, running a hand through the princess's hair. She waited for her tears to slow, before pulling back from the hug and placing her hands on the girl's cheeks. "It was just a dream. You're safe now."
Emma watched the interaction, remembering the way it felt when her mother cupped her face just after the curse was broken. As the brunette settled back against a fallen log and pulled the princess to her side, Emma was taken by surprise at the overwhelming wave of jealousy that crashed over her. She was not the type to crave physical closeness, but watching her mother wrap her arms around Aurora she couldn't help but feel envious. Just because she wasn't quite ready to accept Mary Margaret's gestures of affection, didn't mean she was ok with the woman bestowing them on another. She knew she was being ridiculous, but years of rejection had made her overly sensitive to the idea of being replaced.
Mary Margaret smiled down at Aurora as she realized that the young girl had once again succumbed to sleep. Her maternal instincts had kicked into overdrive since the curse was broken, and it was nice to have someone who was willing to accept her nurturing behavior. With one hand rubbing soothing circles on Aurora's arm, and the other grasping the young girl's hand, she felt content—well, almost. While she would never wish a nightmare upon Emma, she couldn't help but wish it was her daughter that she held in her arms instead.
Sensing that she was being watched, she glanced up and locked eyes with her daughter, who had clearly been observing the proceedings. Emma quickly glanced away, but Mary Margaret kept her gaze trained on the woman, patiently waiting for her to look up again.
Emma studied the ground, embarrassed to have been caught staring. After a few moments, she cautiously glanced back up, only to be met by Mary Margaret's gentle smile. She watched as her mother carefully freed her hand from Aurora's and motioned for Emma to join her. She's probably going to ask me to take the rest of her guard shift so she can focus on Aurora, she thought bitterly, immediately berating herself for the remark. She was angry with herself for thinking such unfair thoughts about her mother, but she was even angrier over the fact that it mattered so much to her. After twenty-eight years of fending for herself, Emma Swan was not used to caring about what other people did.
Reluctantly, she crossed the campsite, more than a little surprised when Mary Margaret patted the spot next to her. She sank to the ground slowly, careful to leave a few inches between herself and her mother. The look of disappointment on the brunette's face when she saw the gap did not go unnoticed by Emma.
"You should get some sleep," Mary Margaret said, doing her best not to sound too maternal. She knew her daughter had had a long day, and she needed her rest if they were going to take on Cora.
Emma rolled her eyes, unable to bite back her derisive reply. "Thanks, mo—" The last syllable came out as a strangled choking noise. She'd intended the remark to be sarcastic, but she'd realized the implications of using the 'm' word just in time. She so was not ready to open that can of worms. "Mary Margaret," she finished lamely, praying that the other woman had not noticed the slip.
Mary Margaret's heart thumped wildly. She could have sworn Emma had almost called her mom, and even though her daughter had clearly been mocking her, she was still elated by the prospect. However, as an uncomfortable silence settled over the pair, and she took in the blonde's hardened features, she convinced herself that it was just wishful thinking on her part.
The sound of a pained moan jolted her from her thoughts, and she immediately turned her attention to the sleeping princess.
Emma watched as Mary Margaret rubbed Aurora's arm and whispered quietly in her ear, calming her in her sleep. Within moments, the whimpers ceased and the young girl's breathing returned to normal. When Mary Margaret laid her head atop Aurora's it was more than Emma could take; Mary Margaret was supposed to be her mother. She claimed to want Emma, but her actions indicated otherwise. She started to stand—knowing full well she was acting like a petulant child—but midway up, she felt a strong hand grasp her arm and yank her back down. The sudden movement caught her off-guard and she came crashing back to the ground, almost ending up in Mary Margaret's lap.
"Where are you going?" Mary Margaret asked. Emma felt her anger soften slightly at the obvious hurt in the other woman's voice. She awkwardly repositioned herself so that she was once again sitting upright, but—much to Mary Margaret's delight—this time no space separated the women.
"Sorry, you seemed to have your hands full," Emma mumbled, hoping the other woman could not hear the jealousy that crept into her tone.
"Nope. Just one is full," Mary Margaret joked, holding up her free hand and wiggling her fingers, but her attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. "Emma, what is this really about?" she questioned, growing serious. She watched a wave of conflict wash over her daughter's face, and instinctively grabbed the woman's arm, lest she try to run again. "Please talk to me."
"It's nothing," Emma said dismissively, making a half-hearted effort to shrug her mother's hand off her arm. In truth, she liked the feeling of the physical contact, but she'd never admit it aloud. "I'm just glad that you've found someone to be a mother to," she finished, hating herself for the slight quiver in her voice.
The admission hit Mary Margaret like a ton of bricks. It all made sense now—the scornful looks, the distant behavior, the slight twinge of jealousy she thought she'd imagined in the woman's tone. "Emma," she said softly, trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact with the blonde. It quickly became clear that the gentle approach was getting her nowhere.
"Emma," she repeated sternly. The tactic had its desired effect, as her daughter glanced up sharply, surprised by the sudden change in tone. "Listen to me very carefully. You have to know how much I wish it was you in my arms. Aurora needs me, and I will be here for her as long as she does, but if there ever came a time that you needed me more, I would be there in a heartbeat. You are my daughter and you come first; I have no interest in being a mother to anyone else."
Emma was taken aback by the intensity of the brunette's gaze and the passion behind her words. The cynical part of her desperately searched for signs that the woman was lying, but she could find none. Incapable of forming words, she simply shook her head to show that she understood.
Mary Margaret remained quiet, knowing that Emma could only handle so much intimacy. She was not surprised when, a few minutes later, her daughter cleared her throat and changed the subject.
"She said it was the same dream as last time. Has this happened before?"
"Once—while you were climbing the beanstalk," Mary Margaret confirmed.
Emma nodded as she absorbed the information. "There's something about a recurring nightmare that is just so much scarier than a regular nightmare." She knew it was a lame observation, but she was desperate to keep the conversation focused on something other than her earlier admission of jealousy.
"Did you ever have recurring nightmares?" Mary Margaret questioned, doing her best to keep her tone casual. In truth, she leapt at any opportunity to learn something about her daughter's past, but she knew if she seemed too eager, Emma would shut down.
Emma shrugged. She'd had plenty of nightmares growing up. Hell, at times, her life itself had been a living nightmare. But she knew Mary Margaret was just trying to help, and she couldn't bring herself to hurt the woman by telling her the truth. Instead she settled on a generic answer. "Yes, but nothing I can really remember. They were mostly silly things; monsters in the closet, the boogeyman under the bed—you know, typical case of a child with an overactive imagination."
Her daughter's words were light, but Mary Margaret sensed an underlying hint of sadness. Taking her hand off the blonde's arm, she slowly snaked it around her shoulders, relieved when Emma relaxed into the embrace after only a moment's hesitation. "You know that I would do anything to be able to go back in time and comfort you during those nightmares, right?"
"Yeah," Emma answered, surprised to find that she was not just saying that to appease Mary Margaret; she was truly beginning to believe that the woman next to her would do anything for her. A sense of peace passed over Emma and she soon found herself stifling a yawn. Noticing that the brunette was about to speak, she quickly cut her off, "I know, I know—I should get some sleep," she said jokingly. She started to stand, but felt her mother's grip around her shoulders tighten.
"You can stay here…if you want," Mary Margaret offered timidly. She held her breath as she waited for Emma's reply. Sometimes bonding with her daughter felt like taking one step forward, two steps back, and after all the progress they'd made tonight, she was worried that she may have pushed too far. Relief coursed through her veins when Emma nodded and settled back against the log. Gazing between the two women in her arms, Mary Margaret sighed, finally feeling truly content.
Emma shifted restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position against the log. She really was exhausted after climbing the beanstalk, but she still was not fully accustomed to sleeping outdoors. Finally, she gave in to temptation, shifting down and angling her body so that her head rested on Mary Margaret's shoulder. She was thankful that she could not see her mother's face, because she knew the giant grin that the woman was certain to be wearing would have made her change her mind. When she felt the sudden weight of the brunette's head resting atop hers, her heart soared. She knew it was silly; Mary Margaret had told her more than once that she came first, but she had learned long ago not to trust verbal promises. This tangible action—small though it may be—made Emma feel, for the first time in her life, as if someone were truly choosing her.
"Sweet dreams," Mary Margaret whispered. A hint of a smile graced Emma's features as she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overtake her.
A/N: Sorry if that seemed a little rough around the edges. Thanks to school, I barely had time to write it, let alone edit it. Enjoy tonight's episode and feel free to PM me if you want to discuss the episode or the season in general!