My first Once Upon A Time fanfic, I hope you enjoy it. Takes place during the season finale, and going beyond.
1. Welcome Back
Goodbye Storybrooke, hello Boston, David Nolan sighed to himself, driving away from the hometown he had just gotten used to after waking up from his coma. He would miss it here very much-he would especially miss Mary Margaret, but he had messed up his life here too much, and now he was driving away alone, unable to stand it without her by his side. He couldn't understand it.
First of all, he must have had a great life with Katherine, once upon a time and long ago, back when he had been so certain of himself and knew who he was. He could remember vaguely being happy with Katherine, that they had everything he had ever wanted out of life. He must have had a great time with Katherine all of those years ago, otherwise he would not have gotten married to her, right? What was the matter with him? She didn't deserve all of the heartache that she must have felt with him over the years.
First of all they had drifted apart, then he had vanished, and then he had reappeared, not the same man that he once was and not remembering her, and finally he had an affair with Mary Margaret. Katherine must have been devastated, even before she had gotten kidnapped. David should have told her the truth a long time ago, he knew, back when he had first started feeling some kind of affection for Mary Margaret. It would have saved Katherine some of the pain she must have felt, when she had struggled to try and save their marriage after finding him again. It would have been a cleaner break, without all of the heartache.
And Mary Margaret Blanchard...he had wronged her so badly, he didn't even know where to start. She had found him at the toll bridge, and he had latched onto her for some reason, unable to comprehend why he felt such feelings. Mary Margaret had wanted to let him go, or at least she had tried to tell him so, but he had been so persistent that she could not resist, especially when she had felt the same way. When they had fallen in love, she insisted that he should tell Katherine, but he had put it off until it was too late, even lying to Mary Margaret, saying that he had already told Katherine.
David did not get half the blame that Mary Margaret did, when people accused her of breaking up a happy marriage, and he should have spoken up for her. David did not speak up for her, he did not defend her like he should have done, what was the matter with him?
Perhaps he was afraid of facing all of those people, all of those accusing faces he did not really know, and disappointing Katherine in the process. But if it was true love that he had felt for Mary Margaret, then he would have stood up for her, he should have stood up to the crowd that silently accused her, and told them to leave Mary Margaret alone, that she was not to blame, and that if they wanted to stone someone, they could stone him.
He should have done that, but he didn't, and when Katherine went missing, and people started to suggest that it was Mary Margaret-he didn't know what to think anymore. He had lost all of the fight in him. He felt listless, helpless, and his mind had slipped. He had doubts that even he could not fathom. Mary Margaret wouldn't do that, Mary Margaret was kind and sweet, Mary Margaret was-wronged, and what would a woman do if she was painfully, horribly wronged by her lover, and scorned by his wife?
Mary Margaret was innocent, however, Katherine appeared, alive, and David realized his horrible mistake, but it was too late—Mary Margaret would never forgive him. She deserved to feel that way, and when he had suggested that she leave with him, turn away from Storybrooke, Katherine, and everything else that had pained them these last few months, Mary Margaret had said no, "I can't". She deserved to say no, and he knew that, so he had just left, hoping that she might be able to forgive him someday. Perhaps she would forget him. Perhaps he would forget her. Boston was a big town, and Storybrooke was so small, so inconsequential in the end-NO. He would never forget. He would never forget her.
He would just live the rest of his life alone. He wished that he could just go back, and erase all of the time-suddenly, something snapped inside of him, and swept across him, like a hurricane-force wind, and he stopped his truck on the side of the road. David Nolan died, and was reborn as James in a single instant.
"Gods," James gasped, looking around him. "What sort of-" The truck he had driven, the wrappers of the burger stand, the forest beyond his window, the sign saying Leaving Storybrooke—David had lived a strange life, James realized. David resided in him, somewhere, buried deep underneath, and though James remembered a part of that life, David was not James. James remembered the mistakes David had made, and regretted them.
"Foolish," He muttered, shaking his head. He would not have done all of that. He would have treated Abigail better-he had treated Abigail better, as a matter of fact, back when they had broken off their engagement. And Snow-
"Snow!" James gasped, turning the truck around. Snow was back there, he had left Snow behind, Queen Regina would—he pounded his hand against the horn. "Damn, damn!" He cried, honking. He could not believe that David would be so foolish as to leave his true love behind in this wretched hell-hole of Storybrooke. It was absurd, nothing could be better than true love. Never leave true love behind you, no matter the cost.
"Snow, I'm coming," He muttered, speeding up his truck. It was faster than a horse, but it wasn't the same. He hoped that Snow would remember him by now. The change had occurred in him so suddenly that perhaps it was spreading throughout Storybrooke. But what could be so powerful as to cause such an effect?
"True love's kiss?" He guessed, half-smiling. He hoped it was. He stopped the truck near the edge of town and got out, striding forth in search of his.
David was gone, she knew, she just couldn't believe it. Mary Margaret shook her head as she turned away from the road leading out of town. Without him, the whole world, not just Storybrooke, seemed...different. He must have gone this morning, while she was reading by Henry's bedside. Poor boy. She whimpered just thinking about it, how the doctors had rushed to his bedside to try and save him. Henry had been so strong, so full of life and love, and brave, too, but now he was gone-dead, dying, she just couldn't believe it. Poor boy. It didn't seem right or fair that a child could be taken away from the ones who loved him, in the prime of his life, before he even got to know anything about the world. Perhaps the world didn't deserve him and his goodness, his love and his faith, but the world would have been better with him in it.
David would have loved Henry if he had gotten to know him better. Henry could make anyone smile and laugh. Last night, after talking with David, Mary Margaret had regretted her actions almost immediately afterward, and missed him. Perhaps she should have gone with him, but it was too late for her. She could not stand him anymore. Her whole world, her spirit, had shattered when David had woken up from his coma, and entered her life. It was a perverted kind of love, a twisted, cursed kind of love, that they had known together, and she wanted nothing to do with it anymore.
They had been tossed together into a maelstrom of emotions from the start, and then had been torn apart by the circumstances. David was married. Katherine didn't know about the affair. David lied to her. Katherine found out about the affair. Katherine went missing. She had been accused of killing Katherine, and arrested. David doubted her. She had escaped prison, intending to escape Storybrooke. Katherine had been found, alive, the case against her a sham. David had tried to apologize to her. David was leaving, and wanted her to go with him. She wouldn't go with him. And that was the end of the most miserable chapter in Mary Margaret's long, miserable life.
Maybe she should become a nun, go into exile, at least it would be easier than trying to move on from this affair and on with her life, Mary Margaret had thought as she entered the apartment that she had shared with Emma last night. She just couldn't forget about David. She would never forget about David. Maybe she would just die alone, penniless, heartbroken-maybe from drinking. Where was Emma? She wondered to herself, until she had found the note that Emma had left, and rushed to the hospital to see Henry.
Emma had gone, apparently with Regina, and Mary Margaret had stayed by Henry's bedside, reading to him, until his heart monitor-she just couldn't stay in the hospital then, alone in this crowd, to watch Henry die. She was perhaps the only person there who truly cared about him, and she was not so brave then, not brave enough to watch him die, after what had happened with David. She had left the hospital as soon as she could, weeping, wondering where Emma and Regina was. What could be so important that they would leave their son alone-on his deathbed? She would never leave her son alone, in such dire circumstances, if she ever had one. She wished that Henry would just wake up, like David had, and smile at her, telling her that everything was going to be all right.
In the cold morning air, Mary Margaret walked down the street, not really thinking about anything but what had just happened, when suddenly something swept across her, in her and through her, and she tripped. But she regained her footing, and remained standing, tall and proud and steady-Snow White, the fairest one of all.
All of these years...she realized, suddenly. All of these days, all of these hours, all of these moments-what had gone on in her life? She realized. Nothing had happened. Nothing had ever happened to Mary Margaret. Her life would never be the same. She was Snow White, not Mary Margaret anymore. That was—that was so pitiful and so desperate, and-so full of remorse. She never wanted to live that way again. She wouldn't have to, if she had her way, but she would never forget—David or Mary Margaret.
The people all around her, friends and neighbors, were waking up from a dream-and it had been a dream, a nightmare of the worst kind, Snow realized, but it had been real. In this town, in this place, in this time, it had been real for the longest time. She walked around, dazed and confused, listening and watching the others marveling over their transformation, their awakening into their true selves, and she thought that all of this was the greatest day that had ever happened in the history of Storybrooke, all 28 years of it. Twenty-eight pitiful years of life, wasted, frozen and trapped in this hell-hole without waking up, but it was real.
"Snow!" She heard—James cry, and turned around. "Charming," She said, and realized it was all she had ever really wanted in this town, her Charming. She had missed him so much, he had been so far away, and she had been right there along with him. She would never forget him again. She would never forget their love again. They clutched each other tightly, staring into each other's faces, and she realized that this was real, that nothing else mattered. "I love you, James," She whispered.
"I love you, Snow White," He said, and they kissed. They had found each other again. Nothing else-"I'm sorry-" He started to say.
"Don't, just don't," She said, biting his lips. "Not now, not-" She inhaled sharply. "Wait," She said, pushing herself away from him reluctantly. "We have to find Emma." She said.
"Emma? Our Emma? How?" He asked, shaking his head. "Where do we even start?"
"The hospital. She would go back there," Snow said, turning away, "Back to Henry." She whispered, remembering.
"Henry? But-" James paused, and Snow turned back to him. He seemed confused.
"What is it?" Snow asked, worried.
"Our Emma is—Emma Swan?" James asked, surprised.
"Oh, James," Snow said, clutching at him. "I'm sorry, you didn't know, you were—it's been 28 years." She said.
"28 years?" James gasped, clutching her.
"Yes, we were trapped here, frozen in time, not aging or changing, for 28 years, and we didn't even know it." She said. "Emma grew up here in this world without us, outside of Storybrooke. Her name is Emma Swan because of the blanket she was found with, the swan blanket with her name stitched in it. I found it amongst her things while I was still Mary Margaret. I didn't know." She said, looking down. "I should have known, I almost recognized it, but I tried to forget it."
"Emma Swan." James said, gasping. "I didn't know either. But she's so—so headstrong, so serious, and—and she's got your eyes," James said, staring at Snow. "Oh, Snow, what have we done?" He asked.
"I don't know, but we did the right thing, the only thing we could have done," Snow said, as best she could. "We tried our best to save her. She would have been stuck here, just like us, maybe an orphan, a helpless baby for all of these years."
"A baby..." He said, looking down into his arms that had held her last, picturing the last time he had seen her in his arms. It was too soon, too fast for him. "She would have been just the same." He said.
Snow frowned. "Regina wouldn't have let us have her. She would have kept her away from us, and we never would have known." Snow said.
"Never?" James said, looking up.
"Never. Because of what we did, Emma grew up to break the curse, and now we remember." Snow said, realizing this was the truth even as she said it.
"True love's kiss," James said, looking around him. "Snow, this is what she did, all of this." He laughed. "We remember because she gave us true love's kiss back."
"Henry." Snow gasped. "We thought he was dead, dying, but it was just the sleeping curse." She smiled at James, and started to dance around him. "Henry's not dead, he's alive, he's alive, Emma must have brought him back from the sleeping curse with a kiss. True love's kiss, a mother's kiss." Snow gasped and stopped.
"Henry is-" James blinked. "We have a grandson?" He asked.
"It's been 28 years." Snow told him. "Henry is our grandson."
"I don't feel that old." James said.
"You are that old. We are that old. You just forgot." Snow remarked. "I don't feel that old either." She remarked.
"One step at a time." James said, glancing around. "We need to regroup. Focus on-Regina, and Rumplestilskin." He muttered.
"Why can't we stop? Why can't we stop and rest?" Snow asked him. "I just got you back, I just got Emma and Henry—we're a family again." She said. "And everyone else—why can't we just stop and rest?" She asked, frowning. "We've won, haven't we? Regina lost, the curse is broken, we're back to-" She shook her head.
"Back to what? Our lives are not back to normal," James said, turning to her. "They will never be back to normal again. Our lives are broken, our destinies ripped apart, to shreds—Regina might have lost for now, but she will try again." He frowned. "She has already destroyed our lives once-let us not let her destroy them again."
"I know that." Snow said. "But we have the advantage here. Strength in numbers, and knowledge of what she has done to us. She will never be able to rise against us, not without magic." She said.
Suddenly, they felt a wind—they looked up fearfully as a pink and purple cloud of swirling dust, like magic, swept across the town. "You were saying?" James asked, linking arms with her.
"Me and my big fat mouth." Snow grimaced.
"I like your big fat mouth." James said, grinning at her as the cloud swept them up.
What do you think? To be continued! Review and put on alert, please.