Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: I have so many ideas falling out of my head, it seems, i don't know how to keep track of them. I just thought of the scene a few minutes after Emma escapes, and Snow is like barely walking to the nursery, how it's taken her that long to get there (i mean, she did just have a baby guys, I hear that's quite taxing, physically lol) and I was doubtful that David would've been able to fight the guards, AND help his wife and daughter get to the nursery. Plus, I love Josh Dallas and want awkward, fluff, David/Emma goodness. Just go with it.

EDITED TO SAY: Okay, so I take back what I said before; I like the name David, and as of this update, have changed his name throughout this story to David, instead of James. If you guys would like to know why, I kinda address it a bit more in the seventh chapter, but it boils down to a) I can't stop typing David instead of James and b) James was an ass. lol. So. Hope you don't mind it. But it's happening. :)

The fall air was cool, but smelled of sweat and blood. Although it was quiet now, it had only been moments before when the shrill cry of a newborn had filled the air, accompanied only with her mother's exhausted sobs as she fell back, her husbands sweet murmurings offering her brief comfort. Freshly washed and wrapped in soft wool, the child was placed in her mother's arms, and for the moment, the tears on her face were happy ones. But only for the moment.

"At least you'll be together," She heard his voice, tearful and low, his breath warm on her cheek as he bent to kiss the squirming newborns head. "We need to get you to the wardrobe now."

"No." She shook her head violently. "I can't...I'm not...we're not going to leave you!"

"And what about Emma? And the curse?" He allowed the tears to fall from his eyes without restraint, the look of pain on his face growing more severe with ever word spoken. "I don't want you to go, but we will be lost unless she is safe. Unless you are both safe."

"No! I'm not going to leave you." She shook her head more and reached for him, but he had already pushed away from her side to retrieve his sword from it's sheath near the door. He held out his hand, beckoning her to hurry near.

"Snow, you must. Now come, we must get you to the wardrobe. There is little time. The Witch's men approach quickly."

Crying harder, she picked the baby up carefully and held her close to her body. She rose from the bed slowly, her body aching in unbelievable pain from the work it had just done. From the stairwell, the faint sound of boots hitting the stone traveled to their ears.

"Snow, we must go. Now."

She nodded, pulling from somewhere deep in herself as she placed her bare feet on the stone floor. She had to do this, for Emma, and for everyone in the kingdom if they ever dreamed of surviving whatever terrible thing the Witch had in store for them. She made it all of two steps before her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the floor with a soft cry of alarm, pressing Emma tighter to her chest in fear of her hitting the ground as well. David dropped his sword in panic as he rushed to her side and knelt, checking the child first before touching his wife's arm lightly as he offered her his free one.

"I'll help you. Come on, up now Snow, I know you can do this."

She nodded, setting her mind more determined than ever. Clutching the baby with one arm, she pushed up with the other off of her husband and stood still as he retrieved his weapon and started forward slowly, anxiety shadowing his features. She wasn't able to move fast at all, and it was exhausting her to just stand. Before she made it to their doorway, her legs wobbled again and she sunk to the floor.

"Charming, I can barely feel my legs. They cannot carry me, let alone the babe. The queen's men are coming," She said tearfully, shaking her head as she looked up at his face. "There's no way I can get us both there safely."

"Then I will guide your path, I'm not..."

"Charming, No!" She exclaimed, pushing the child into his arms. "You have to take her. It's the only way."

He looked at her as if it were the most impossible suggestion he had ever been offered. "I am not leaving you alone here with her!" His voice was strained as he leaned toward her, one hand on the squalling child, the other on her shoulder. "I can't, Snow. You can do this. I've seen you face trolls and witches, and you ride a horse better than I. You must go, now come on."

"You will never be able to help me and fight off Regina's men at the same time." She insisted, fresh tears escaping. The shuffling of the steps grew closer, and they could hear the soldiers yells reverberating through the halls. David' face grew tight; he knew the words she spoke were true, that it would be difficult with him alone with a sword, but he could not just let her stay there.

"Snow, I will not leave you."

"You have to! It's the only chance we have." She closed her eyes tightly against the tears streaming down her face. "I love you, but you must go. You will find me, remember? You always find me." She smiled at him sadly before looking down at the newborn one last time. "There is no time left. You have to take her now." She pressed a kiss to the child's head and held it for a few moments. "Make sure she knows I loved her. If there was anything I could have done, if I could've gotten her there safely, I would've come. Please let her know that."

"Snow, no." He croaked, but found himself taking the baby as she shoved her into his arms. She brought her hand to his face, caressing his jawline.

"I love you. Now go. Keep her safe." She kissed him firmly through her tears, and as she pulled back to push him away, he pulled her closer once more, kissing her again. "Charming, go!"

For the rest of his life, he would remember this moment, he knew. Her messy face, red from exhaustion and emotion, the taste of her last kiss lingering on the tips of his lips, lips which he vowed would never touch another woman's but hers. He closed his eyes and steeled with everything in his body to turn to the doorway and spirit out into the corridor. Her heart wrenching sobs echoed off of the castle's stone walls.

He had never felt such hatred for a person as he did for the Witch in that moment.

He fought through the guards valiantly, staying focused and sharp in an effort to reach the wardrobe alive. He got there mostly whole-a laceration to his shoulder, but it wouldn't quite kill him-and opened the doors of the tree, ready to climb in.

He paused and looked back towards their chambers once more. He could put Emma in the wardrobe and go back. He could hope someone would find her, that she would be safe. That she would find them, one day. That they could be a family.

But when he looked down at the child, he knew he could not. She was helpless, scarcely a half hour old and there was no telling what awaited her on the other side. Even if they did meet with her again one day, knowing they could've been with her and chose not to would be an awful burden to bear. Snow would never forgive him, he knew that for sure.

Hearing more men shouting down the hall, he quickly propped his sword in the back of the tree and climbed in into the tree trunk holding Emma tightly against his shirt. He closed the doors in front of him just in time to see the black plume of feathers peek through the doorway of the nursery before feeling the strangest sensation wash over him. There was no sound for a few moments; just the silence, and the dark.

The trunk of the giant tree exploded with the sound of dynamite, it's outside splintering and shattering from the inside out, revealing a hollow center. If anyone had been there to witness it, they would've found it inexplicable. But for now, it was only David. And Emma.

The baby was screaming, waving it's arms about with it's face scrunched up in anger at being disturbed after such a long journey, and David, now able to stop for a moment, not really even knowing what to do now, just looked at her.

She was perfect. Her pudgy arms jerked around stiffly, still getting used to being outside of the confines of his wife's womb. He wasn't sure what to do. He had little to no experience with babies-Abigail and Fredrick had only just recently had their young prince, so he had held the infant for a time before handing him back off to a maidservant who waited in the wings. He thought of Cara, the girl they had chosen for Emma. A sweet girl, and so comforting to Snow as the months passed and she grew more fretful of her stepmother's actions. He wondered what had happened to her, if she had escaped the castle before the Witch's men had laid siege to it. He hoped so.

He began to move his body, still cramped inside the center of the tree, slowly turning from side to side as he tried to soothe the child as he'd seen and heard other women do before. He cooed at her as he pushed himself out with his free hand from the trunk to a few feet down on the forest floor. As he shushed her, still moving his torso to and fro, he surveyed his surroundings.

It looked exactly as it had been.

His heart swelled. Maybe the Queen's curse had failed. Maybe this had just transported them to safety, but they would return. He pictured his wife's sweet face, wet with tears and a relieved smile. His heart clenched in his chest; yes, maybe just...

His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of something he could not place. He shrank back, the quick movement startling the newborn and caused her to squall louder than he had thought possible before. He looked toward the air, where the sound had come from, and saw a large metal looking craft above him, with wings and a tail. It was like a large bird but not, and he watched it until it flew from sight, the sound of it's engine's echoing in the distance. His stomach flipped.

This was not home.

The baby kept screaming though. He would imagine she may be hungry, or cold, or just able to sense the entire wrongness of the whole situation. He tried to bounce her a bit, shushing and whispering to her and for a moment, his chest seemed to open as her sobs abated and she yawned, blinking in the bright sun. Her eyes were open.

They shone a deep moss green. Like her mother's.

His head began to spin, and he clutched her tighter as the reality of what had happened took over. He stumbled back, tripping over branches and leaves until he was able to find a place for his free hand on a skinny trunk, and lowered himself to the ground. He didn't know how he could do this. Snow could do this. She would've known what to do when the child cried, would have known what to do now that they were lost in the middle of nowhere in a strange land. He could not raise a child, a girl child nonetheless, alone. He knew nothing but swords and sheep, farming crops and horses. What good could he be to a child in an unfamiliar world?

She had begun to shriek again with the unpleasant trip to the Earth. He knew he had to pull himself together and get to thinking straight. They were certainly in the middle of nowhere, but there had to be something-a cottage, a castle, whatever this world had-close. He would rise up from the ground and walk swiftly, he decided, but would make sure he knew this place just in case he needed to come back. For the moment though, he wanted to calm her.

For the first time, it seemed, he focused only on her, folding his knees up as he rested her against them. He swung them back and forth slowly, trying to get her to quiet, and as he pulled her blanket around her, she seemed to have tired herself out, small whimpers being all that remained. But that seemed almost worse. Because now that they were not scrunched up, hidden in rolls of red flesh and baby fat, he could see her beautiful green eyes once more.

"Don't cry, Emma," He tried to soothe her, whispering, cooing, but she still kept on intermittently increasing her wails and he felt his resolve give inside. His own fat tears fell down his cheeks. "Don't cry, my love. It will be alright. I promise, Emma," He choked on his words, drawing her closer to his body as they cried together now, two lost souls alone in a brave new world. "I'm gonna make all of this alright."

"Cece, we got a live one here."

The orderly's voice tugged her from her late night stupor, the fog in the woman's mind clearing as she shook her head and looked up with a tight smile. It was scarcely five in the morning, and she had been on the midnight shift for only this week so she wasn't quite used to it yet. Cramped in her tiny office for social services, she had volunteered for the night shifts because she knew dysfunction didn't have a 9-5 window, and by the looks of the man who stood behind the nurse, some cases were dire.

He looked exhausted, as if someone had beaten the life from him. His left arm was held in a sling with a great white bandage over his shoulder and a developing shiner seemed to be the least of his problems. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been dealing with great emotional burden. She stood with a tight smile and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. He nodded politely, almost bowing before taking the seat, which she found very strange. No more so than his tight...very tight, leather riding pants under the smock they had given him once he'd received his stitches. She must have been staring because she thought she heard his tone tinged with amusement as he spoke.

"They cut my shirt from me, to...fix my shoulder." He offered. She felt her cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. He was handsome, she thought to herself. Clean cut, didn't appear to be under the influence of anything, which was always good. She took a folder from the nurse at the door and closed the door behind her as she made her way to her cluttered desk. She cleared her throat as she laid the manila down on the wood top and began to read.

There wasn't much to it. A John Doe, picked up by the side of the road...with a baby.

She lifted her gaze to him and found him staring at the floor, unmoving. She swallowed. "John..."

"David." He cut her off.

"David." She smiled at him, wanting him to know she wasn't here to be his enemy. "Dave, maybe, or just David?"

"David." He reiterated. And that was all; if he had a last name, he didn't share it. She didn't have time to ask. "Where is my daughter?"

The tone of his voice changed to one of raw desperation. She chewed her lip. The baby was being kept for observation in the NICU for the next 24 hours to make sure she was okay, but she didn't know if she should tell him quite yet. The pair had been found walking along the side of the road, the child only hours old, in chilly weather with but a blanket wrapped around her. He had been bleeding pretty badly, a few minor lacerations along with the gash on his shoulder and a mild concussion, but the most bizarre was the sword he had been clutching in his free hand. He may not have looked like he was under the influence of something, but it wasn't exactly the norm to be wield a sword for legitimate defensive purposes; mental illness was always a possibility, and he would have to be fully evaluated before he was allowed to take the girl anywhere.

And then came the business of him alone. He didn't seem to have an identity; it was as if he and the child had appeared from thin air, with no sign of a mother in sight. When asked about her, the police report stated that he had only told them that she wasn't with him, that she had given the baby to him to take care of and had vanished-his words-and that was all. He seemed a perfectly polite man right now-raggled and worse for the wear, but he didn't appear hostile. However, in this line of work, you could never be too cautious when children were involved.

"Sir, she is being looked over right now. Our neonatal specialists just want to make sure she is doing alright after her exposure so soon after her birth." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "Can you tell me anything about it? Maybe...where her mother is?"

"She's gone." He replied curtly. "Look, miss, I appreciate all the help this...place, has been, but I need to take my daughter and go. We will be fine without your assistance."

She shifted in her seat, almost wishing the nurse had stayed for supervision in case the John Doe got aggravated. "Sir, please understand. The state takes these cases very seriously. Due to the circumstances of your case-you don't have a job, or a place to live-the well being of the child is our biggest priority."

"Are you questioning my ability to provide for my daughter?" He snapped, finally looking her in the eye, his gaze narrowed.

"Sir, I'm not questioning anything, this is standard procedure-"

"I want to see my daughter, now." He stood up, stabbing the desk with his index finger as he leaned toward her. She fought the urge to reel away from his hostile gesture, willing herself to show no weakness.

"Sir, I will take you to her as soon as we get some of this sorted out, I promise you. But please, please try and calm down and sit; it will all go much easier that way."

David was smart enough to hear a warning when he heard one, and while he usually didn't take too kindly to them, he recognized how to pick his battles. This was not one he should fight, he knew. Not when, in this place, he had no authority; they had his child for the time being and it seemed likely that if they so chose, they would take her and he would never see her again-a fate he could not bear to think of. Frowning, he sunk back into his chair. Across the desk, CeCe seemed to visibly relax with a smile.

"There. Now. If we get started, we'll be up there before you know it."

That was an exaggeration. It took hours to sort the paperwork out. But David had no identity, and neither did Emma. She informed him that, until he found a stable home and occupation, that Emma would be cared for by the state, in a home that the government ran and oversaw. The woman had faltered at his fallen expression, the very true devastation on his face being unmistakable.

"Let me see, David, if I can see about a halfway house that caters to single parents. They're mostly for battered women and their children, but I know some people and if you are well behaved enough..."

He was more than emphatic in promising he would be. It was late by the time they had found a place, a small home near the hospital that happened to have an extra crib for Emma and a couch the women there were willing to let him occupy. Cece was helping him make a plan to find a job, anywhere. She peppered him with questions, asking him about schooling and other skills. Frustrated, and reluctant to give too much information, he had floundered at them.

"Did you graduate from high school?" She asked softly. He had almost growled in frustration; for the God's names, he didn't even know what that was!

"What did you do? How did you earn your education? You seem like a smart enough man."

"My mother."

"So you were home schooled?"

He shrugged softly. He wasn't really sure what she meant. Of course, he knew his letters and some numbers for sale, but his life revolved around the farm, and later, being able to inspire confidence in the men and women that served him in his and Snow's kingdom. The scrutiny of the woman's gaze caused a thin sheen of sweat to bead on his forehead, so he nodded, assuming by the leading question that that was what she was looking for. "When I wasn't working on our farm."

She seemed to brighten at that. "A farm? So...crops and stuff?"

He nodded, looking up at her more uplifting tone. "I helped with our flock, herding and shearing when it came time to gather wool. I'd also take the harvest to market. My father died when I was young. Also, the horses..."

She wrote fast as he rattled off various other labored tasks he performed, her lips quirking into a grin. She didn't like to admit it, but she sometimes grew attached to her case work, especially when the mother or father were especially earnest in wanting to provide for their children. Too many times she saw teens that weren't prepared for parenthood, or victims of substance abuse who knew themselves that they weren't the best thing for their children and had already given up. But David wanted it; he was practically begging her for it.

When they wrapped up-she told him in the morning she would take him and the baby to the home, then begin helping him look for some work-she led him up a few floors to the NICU. She offered a sympathetic smile.

"It's only for a little bit. You can't stay all night." She frowned. "But you can see her. Talk to her." She paused, hesitating as if choosing her words. "I hope you're not tricking me David. You seem to really want the best for her. And I don't usually stick my neck out for people, but you...you seem legit."

He didn't really know what any of her words meant, but he could sense her wariness and grabbed her hand. "I love my daughter. Please believe me when I say, she is my world. She is all I have now. I will not fail her. And I will not let you down."

She didn't have anything left to say. David turned, entering through glass doors and found his way to a glass incubator by the window of the nursery, a small cream wool blanket folded atop it. The infant was sleeping inside of it, a few wires hooked to her here and there; when David' eyes rested on her, his expression grew pained as if greatly concerned. Cece watched from outside as a nurse approached him with a soft smile and began to speak. He looked up at her with sad eyes as she rested her hand on the incubator, and the took his hand and led it through one of the open holes on the side. She gestured for him to touch her, to trail his finger along her chubby little arm; when his index finger met her hand, it contracted and grabbed him. Cece could see the tears spring to his eyes from where she stood.

She liked him, but she was concerned, for she could have no sense of the future, when a little girl with blonde ringlets would come to visit her in the years ahead with her proud father, a red balloon on her wrist a birthday gift for the woman who once helped them gain their footing in a strange world. For now she could only hope.

Hope, sometimes, was all one could really have.

Roger Andrews was out of answers. He sighed as he stood at his kitchen window, a cup of coffee in his hand as he tried to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. To say the land had been under worked would be an understatement; since his arthritis had become so bad and his old farmhand had gone down to live in Boca Raton to enjoy what he referred to as the golden years of his life, the farm he and his wife Ruth lived on was in a declining state. While they tried to find someone to replace Eddie to take care of the ins and outs of everything, it seemed further and further away from possible that they would be able to.

He squinted in the sunlight, pausing in his thought. Ruth stood at the sink drying her hands, shaking her head with a sigh. They didn't want to lose the house they had paid off years ago, that was a sure thing. But the land it stood on was worth something, and the government had been hinting for years that they may just move in and claim imminent domain before long, if it continued to fall into disrepair. Plus, she had thought of Eddie down in Florida, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, he had a good idea going there...

"Honey? Are one of the boys coming home this week?" Roger's voice cut her train of thought off. She frowned; their two grown sons hadn't been home in years, and barely even called or wrote.

"Why would you even ask such a ridiculous..."

There, out in front of their home, sat a cab with a young man leaning into the front passenger side. He appeared to slip the cabbie a few bills before he waved, sending the vehicle spinning out of their driveway and down the road. When he turned, he seemed to sigh, his eyes squinting in the sunlight as he gazed up at the home.

"I...don't know who that is, dear." Ruth shook her head. Roger placed the cup down on the table and made his way to the front door and out on the porch. He eyed the stranger warily; the young man looked harmless, and seemed empty handed, but he couldn't be too careful. He called to him, closing the door behind him as he motioned for Ruth to stay back.

"Can I help you son?"

The young man forced a nervous smile. "Uh, yes. Yes sir, my name is...is David. David, some people have taken to calling me. But um...I've heard from in town that you may need some work? The man at the tavern in the middle of the square."

The old man smirked. Tavern? It was a strange choice of words, but he knew what the boy was speaking about. "Ah, you mean Alex Jones. Owns the Alehouse on Main." He shifted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You've come to offer your help."

"Yessir, I have." He paused, as if waiting for an answer, and although Roger couldn't really be choosy, he wasn't sure this young man would fit the type. He seemed...clean. He didn't appear to be very rough around the edges, and he didn't look as if he would be strong enough to wrangle a wild stallion or fix heavy fence posts by himself. While the land needed help, he was still very protective of it and stubborn. He had grown up with Eddie and been close friends with him, he had trusted his judgment and his word; this man didn't seem to have anything but the clothes he wore on his back. When Roger didn't speak, David rushed ahead. "I grew up on a farm, sir. We, uh, we raised sheep...some chickens. We had crops. It wasn't a large piece of land, but I helped my mother..." He licked his lips, as if trying to figure out something to say. The old man raised his hand to stop him.

"Son, it was real kind of you to stop by..."

"Sir, please." He held out his hands as well, to show the man they were the hands of a worker, callused and scarred, the hands of someone who knew what hard labor was, and what it took to survive in life. "Sir, please," He repeated, his tone desperate now. Roger stayed quiet, allowing himself to hear the young man out. "I...I have a little girl. And we have...we have nothing. It's all gone, everything, and they won't...they won't let me take care of her unless I have work,and I need...I need to take care of her. She's all I have, sir. Please, let me help you."

The older man considered himself firm, but fair. He stood silently, regarding the man with a frown as he put on a bit of a show of considering this decision. He knew it said something about someone's character when they'd stand in front of you and admit they were down low, that they were having a rough go of everything, to swallow their pride and plead for the right to build themselves up. These were the words of a desperate man, Roger could tell; he had been such a man once. He had made his decision, the mention of a little girl softening him up even more.

Of course, he couldn't let the young man know that. David needed to understand, that this was Rogers home, his life's work; he needed to understand Roger was serious, and severe, so he would take the job seriously. David needed to know exactly who was in charge.

The screen door behind him swung open and clacked loudly as it fell shut soon after; the old man closed his eyes and sighed to himself as his wife appeared on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron as she scowled at her husband from above. "Roger Andrews, quit torturing that poor young man. You," She nodded at David, who looked between her and Roger quickly with wide, uncertain eyes. "Get in here for something to eat. You have a long day ahead of you."

His eyes darted once more between the two, before Roger craned his head over to the porch to signal it was okay. David took the stairs to the landing tentatively and nodded at the woman, who smiled and took his hand. "David, is it? I'm Ruth, Roger's better half."

The young man smiled brightly, his eyes seeming to twinkle for a moment at the jest. "Ruth. That...that was my mother's name."

Ruth smiled back at him, ushering him in the home. "Ah well. She already sounds like a wonderful woman."

At the end of the day, after lugging and replanting fence posts, mucking horse stalls, and beginning repairs on a decrepit hen-house (wherein no hens actually lived because they'd escaped), David waited patiently out near the road for a cab to come and retrieve him back to the town. He had stumbled across the tavern in town by chance, a stop in a quaint town that, for all it's unfamiliar technologies, reminded him a bit of home. And he had for at least one day, found work. He had left his contact for the home he and Emma were staying in, hoping against hope he would be called again. But he supposed he'd have to wait and see.

"Young man!" Roger's gravelly voice barked out behind him. He turned in surprise; they had given him a little money, for the 10 hours of work and for cab fare, but he had expected to be on his way without much more of a word. Ruth had insisted on feeding him and sending him home with some leftovers, and he had thanked her warmly and told her that it really wasn't necessary, despite the glare she fixed on him. He had to wonder if the couple had any children; this was a woman that had once obviously taken care of someone, but there seemed no evidence of a family. He didn't think it polite to ask

He wasn't sure how to take Roger Andrews either. He seemed like a good enough man, but one who seemed to always have a skeptical eye on him, as if he were ready for David to misstep. Then, when such a stern glare seemed most formidable, he would bring out two glasses of cold lemonade that Ruth had made them. As he made his way to David now, he pulled his hand from his side and pressed 5 more twenty dollar bills into it. David gaped at it. "Sir, I can't..."

"You can, and you will. Consider it a down payment and cab fare for your drive back tomorrow. That fence ain't gonna fix itself." He winked at him. "And buy something for that little girl of yours you were telling me about. She deserves something pretty!"

"She's 3 months old, sir, I hardly think she'll notice." David replied with a smile. Roger scowled.

"So? You'll learn. Treat them like the princesses they are while you can. They grow up on you too fast." He said. David face seemed to fall for a moment at his choice of words, and his head dropped toward his hands as he brushed the wad of money with his thumb slowly, as if he wasn't really positive it really existed. "Oh, now don't go blubbering over it. You'll earn that, no worries. I'll see you tomorrow, 10 am sharp. Take a bit of time with your little one."

"Sir. Thank you." David replied earnestly, and Roger fought against the flip his chest seemed to do at the look. The young man just seemed too honest and pure, but no man could be so true; at least not in Roger's own experience. He shook his head, gesturing at the lights pulling up the drive.

"Your cab's here. I'll see you tomorrow." David nodded, reaching for the cab door as it came to a slow halt in front of him. "And David?"

"Yes sir?"

"It's not sir, anymore. Call me Roger."

Sometimes he dreamed of her.

Well, if he was completely honest, he always dreamed of her. Sometimes, he dreaded sleep because of it; because when he awoke, the only thing that lay beside him was an empty place in the bed that would not hold her sweet frame in what seemed ever again.

What is 28 years, he had asked, when you have eternal love?

It was a harrowing eternity, he now knew. He grew curious, often, if Snow had fallen at the hands of her wicked stepmother, or if the curse itself were a worse punishment than death. He didn't know which he hoped for more; mercy for his beloved, or the chance to rescue her once more.

That was a lie though as well. The ring that still stayed on his finger answered that easily enough.

Sometimes the dreams were sadly pleasant, more like memories of his time with her. Other times, they were worse, with scenarios where he came home from a long day of work on a farm to her beautiful, smiling face with Emma perched on her hip and waving at him as he made his way up the drive; a scene that would, woefully, never come to pass.

And then there were the nightmares, which usually took place in their chambers of the castle, his imagination running wild with possibilities of what her fate may have been after the wardrobe had transported he and Emma to safety. An image of Regina is a gown as dark as night, long delicate fingers with Snow's neck in a vice grip, twisting, clenching, his or Emma's name on her lips as she took one last breath. That's when he usually awoke.

Sometimes it was just her. Her in the last thing he'd seen her wearing, the white gown that she'd birthed Emma in, her expression strained and scared.

"Find me," She would plead. "There is a town..." She seemed to whisper, her hands reaching out to him. He would respond in kind, trying to reach her fingertips, and although it never seemed to last long, when he would awake, it would be morning.

That's how this morning found him, restless and still tired. He wasn't going out to the farm today, for it was one of his final meetings with CeCe at her office. As if on cue, a squeal from the small crib in the corner of his room drew him up and out of the bed. Emma stared up at him with wide green eyes, a near toothless smile lighting up her face as he leaned over and whispered his good morning. The sadness left from his dream ebbed away.

"I bet you, my love, are hungry."

He picked up the infant and carried her to the small kitchenette he shared with four other single mothers, resting her in a wooden high chair as he bustled to the pantry and removed a small jar of very unappetizing mashed carrots for her breakfast. He smirked; back at home, he wondered what she would've been fed. This, of course, could not be it.

Once she was content, full and cleaned up, he began to load Emma and her things into a small, worn down Ford he'd been able to afford only recently, after becoming the Andrew's full time help. It wasn't a terribly reliable car, stalling occasionally or not starting at all, but it was his-the first thing he had owned in this world.

He was forever grateful for the help he had received since he and Emma had come to this new place. As he closed the car door after strapping Emma in, he took a moment to stare up at the home they had been staying in for the past 9 months. It had been a tenuous experience at first; most of these homes were a haven for women escaping horrible situations, from addiction to abuse, and some had been less than eager to share a home with a man they did not know. But CeCe, bless her, had been able to find a place where the others had not only been welcoming but helpful; David wouldn't have been able to do any of this without them.

To leave would be difficult, but it was time. That was what today was for. He was always in constant contact with CeCe, who had become more of a friend than just someone he had to have a relationship with, so he was sure he would get the green-light to finally be on his own with his daughter.

Or, as on his own as he could be living at the the Andrew's farm. The older couple had begun to suggest the living situation a couple of months after he had begun working there, but had become more insistent after he brought Emma out one day with him. Although he had never asked, he suspected there was estrangement between them and their own children's families, and having a baby in the house seemed like something Roger and Ruth desperately wanted. As for himself, having help would be nice, and not having to drive to work would be extremely convenient. Plus, it would be nice for Emma to have other adults in her life other than just him, he knew that; she couldn't have her mother, but surrogate grandparents could be the next best thing in this situation. She deserved that.

He entered the social worker's office with the baby on his hip and her bag on his other shoulder. After the paperwork was filled out and CeCe informed him that the government would still be occasionally checking in just to make sure everything was okay, she leaned back in her chair and smiled. "I'm sure happy you didn't prove me wrong."

He laughed and smiled back. "Me too. I need to thank you, though. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without your help."

She shook her head. "I just helped. Without your hard work, this could've ended must differently. But thanks." As he got up to leave, juggling a now active infant and a diaper bag, she opened the door for him to leave. "Don't be a stranger, David."

He nodded, smiling tightly. "I won't. Goodbye, Cece."

The door closed behind him, and she stared at it for a few quiet moments after he left. In a profession where so many cases ended in heartbreak and tears, these were the moments she lived for the most. These times, these were the reasons she did this job. It helped to be reminded of it.

In the parking lot, David finished strapping the baby in her car seat, making sure she had a hold of her noisy toy that seemed to amuse her so much before going around to the drivers side and climbing in himself. While they didn't have much at the home, what little they did had been moved the weekend before out to the old farmhouse. This would be the last time he drove to the home, and it was only to say goodbye. He checked the rear view mirror, looking at his daughter, now enraptured with her toy. He smiled.

"Are you ready, Emma? We're going to have a real home now, just us and Mr. Roger and Ms. Ruth. Are you ready for that?"

The little girl blinked up at him in the mirror, quiet for a second as if considering his words, then smiled widely and threw her hands up with a squeal of delight. "Da da da da da!"

He laughed; she had only recently begun to say a few words, but that had been first, much to his bursting hearts approval. Them against the world, he thought to himself; that's how it'd have to be, with whatever help they could get. He thanked the old Gods, and the new, whichever watched out for them, and prayed to whoever listened that they would be alright. That they would make it until it was time to go back. Time to go home.

He prayed that she would be ready.

I am not a social services expert, nor any other kind of expert really, so if I got some of the farming/social service type stuff wrong, excuse me :) Title comes from the Mumford & Sons song "I Will Wait" from their new album; if you've read anything else I've written, you'll have noticed I love them lol. This will act as the prologue (so my apologies if it seems...jumpy? trying to lay groundwork here lol), and just to prepare you and give you an idea of what's to come, the next will involve Emma grown, with flashbacks of David and her as she grows. Please leave me feedback, as knowing if people enjoy/want more is very encouraging.