Title: Letting Go

Summary: Emma & Mary Margaret bond during Emma's grief over losing Graham.

Dedicated to by wonderful beta, Twee, who turned this thing around in a matter of hours. She rocks!

A/N: First off, I am not really an Emma/Graham shipper. Not really against it per se, it just doesn't interest me that much. This fic woke me up at 2am last night and would not let me go back to sleep until it was done. It's been a while since that's happened, so I thought I better just go with it. :-)

So I want to clarify that Emma's grief in this fic, to me anyway, comes from losing the person she decided to finally trust with her heart again. Plus, he kind of dropped dead right in front of her, so even if they were just friends, she should still be a little freaked out by it. The main thing I'm trying to convey here is Emma & Mary Margaret's subtle shift to a mother/daughter relationship as opposed to just friends/roommates. This fic takes place a a few hours after Graham's death.

Letting Go

Emma's feet dragged over the ground as she slowly trudged home. Home. She might have smiled if her heart wasn't so freshly broken. In all her twenty-eight years she had never thought of any place she lived as 'home'. And technically, it was Mary Margaret's house that she lived in, but in her mind 'home' felt like the right word.

The house was kind of small, older and a little run down. There were always little issues that came up with plumbing, and cracks in the walls and ceilings. Even from outside she could hear the slightly too loud hum of the water heater. It was charming though, and it fit Mary Margaret's

personality. It was no where near the nicest place Emma had ever stayed, but it held a certain comfort that no other place had.

The charm of her 'home' was lost to her at the moment however. She felt heavier with every step she took. Like someone was pushing down on her shoulders a little harder the more she walked. Her mind was in a fog of grief. And she rustled with the disbelief.

It wasn't fair. Graham couldn't be dead.

The last time she had opened her heart to someone had been over ten years ago. She'd been burnt so badly that she promised herself she'd never do it again. Looking back now, she could see that as much as it had hurt, it had been worth it. Henry made it so.

But losing Graham was different. He hadn't abandoned her for someone else. He had died.

Emma had fought her attraction to him from the second she had awoken in his jail. He was disarmingly charming and Emma had genuinely liked him, even before her heart had gotten involved.

Learning of his 'involvement' with the mayor had hurt her more than it should have. She should have backed off then. But he had looked at her with those sad, desperate eyes and it was easy for Emma to see that he was just another of Regina's captives, crying out for her to free him. He wasn't the first, and probably wouldn't be the last. It was times like that when Emma could almost see truth in Henry's theory. That Regina really was an evil queen that had ensnared a whole town. A town that didn't even know it was imprisoned.

Emma placed her hand on the door knob, trying to find the strength to open it.

Her mind was flitting in several different directions. It refused to dwell on that which was causing her so much pain. A defense mechanism that had started early in her life. But Emma knew that as soon as she lay eyes on Mary Margaret it would focus on Graham and the part her roommate had played in the latest tragedy in Emma's life.

She took a breath and pushed open the door.

Mary Margaret looked up from the spelling tests she was grading with a welcoming grin.

"Wow, you're home earlier than I expected. How did it go?"

Emma said nothing, just stood in the doorway and welcomed the rush of anger that washed over her as she looked at her friend.

"Oh God, what happened? Emma? Are you okay?"

Mary Margaret was on her feet in an instant, darting to Emma's side and grabbing her arm.

Emma stepped away and glared at her.

"I shouldn't have listened to you!" she hissed, seething with anger.

Mary Margaret didn't say anything, just waited patiently. It made Emma realize how petty she was being, but she didn't care.

"I did it. I tore down the 'wall' and I let him in..." She had to break off and gasp out a sob.

She tried desperately to hold on to the anger. Anger felt good: it made the pain back off.

When a few minutes of silence had passed, Mary Margaret moved closer to her.

"Emma..."

"No!" Emma held up a hand to ward her off. She was surprised to see how badly her hand was shaking, and then realized it was her whole body that was shaking.

"Tell me what happened." Mary Margaret's voice was firm. The words were a command not a request.

"I opened my heart to him. He kissed me. I kissed him back. And then he died in my arms!"

She screamed the last with a wail of grief and sank down to the floor.

Flashes of her past flitted through her mind. She relived the numerous times her world had crumbled around her, and was left sobbing alone on the cold, hard floor. Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, desperately trying to hold herself together. Afraid that if she let go, she would shatter into a million pieces.

She was nothing more than a puddle of misery and for one terrifying second Emma wasn't sure she would survive. Wasn't sure she even wanted to. All she could feel was cold and pain...

And then suddenly, things changed.

Mary Margaret joined her on the floor, and with surprising strength pulled Emma to her. Warm arms embraced her. One hand slid into Emma's hair to gently but firmly press her head down to a soft shoulder.

Emma fought her at first, but when she looked into her friend's eyes she froze. The pain, the tears she saw there were not for Graham, they were for her. For Emma. Mary Margaret, her roommate, her friend... And according to Henry, her mother...

This woman was hurting because Emma was hurting. She was crying because Emma was crying. She was sharing Emma's grief and helping to bear the burden.

The cold was replaced by warmth. The pain changed: it still hurt, but it was a good hurt. It made her feel alive. Her hands clenched themselves into Mary Margaret's shirt, and Emma relished the simple joy of being able to hold onto to someone as she fell apart. To know that even if she shattered into a million tiny pieces there was someone who would put her back together again.

It was a safety... a security that she had never felt in her entire life.

"It's okay, Emma, I'm here," Mary Margaret whispered, "you can let go."

And she did.

End

A/N: For anyone following my pre- Storeybrooke POV series, I almost have the Regina POV ready, then will start MM POV. Also, I had a different idea for an Emma/Gold that I haven't seen anywhere yet. And hope to get to it soon. :-)