Hello Oncers! Set during season 3B, I give you a short one shot conversation between Emma and David about her intention to return to New York with Henry once they've defeated Zelena. Like many fanfic writers here I'd like more scenes between these two, and if they're not forthcoming on the show, I'm willing to write them myself.

The title of this story is from a poem by Emily Dickinson.

The usual disclaimer - I don't own Once Upon a Time, but I do own my obsession.

That I Did Always Love, I Bring Thee Proof

'You haven't said anything,' Emma observes, sitting down opposite her father at the kitchen table where he's reading the newspaper.

David looks up, 'About what?'

'About me and Henry going back to New York when all this is over,' she explains, not really sure why she's started this conversation.

There have been a lot of words from Mary Margaret, many that Emma hasn't been altogether happy about. She's resented her mother a little, for putting pressure on her to choose family over security, and for being hurt that Emma doesn't connect family with security.

David's silence on the subject was comforting at first. Now it's unnerving and for whatever reason she needs to know what he thinks.

He shrugs. 'I've been thinking about what I could say, but I don't think there is anything,' he replies and she feels an unexpectedly painful pang in her chest at the thought that maybe he doesn't much care either way.

But he's not finished.

'You're like your mother, which is ironic because she's using an approach with you that absolutely would not work with her. She should know herself better by now,' he smiles.

She tries to contain herself, to use her trusty walls of self defence, but part of her can't help loving it when they compare one of her traits to one of their own, even though she thinks they're probably just seeing what they want to see, some random trait that probably thirty per cent of the population has. Not all that rare, but given unwarranted significance because of a genetic link between them. Still, some irrational part of her wants to see those similarities too, wants tangible proof of where she comes from.

'What do you mean?' she asks. Whatever it is that's been holding him back she knows that it's not that he doesn't want her to stay and she's so relieved she wants to reach out for him.

'Snow took a potion once to wipe away her memory when she thought we couldn't be together. So when I tried to tell her that what we had was true love she couldn't listen, she couldn't just believe it. She said she appreciated action more than words.'

'That's when she shot you with the arrow,' she smiles. It still seems so bizarre to talk about the things in Henry's story book as though they're real events, but she watches her father as his hand comes up unconsciously to rub the spot on his shoulder where the scar must be.

He sees her looking and pushes aside his shirt so she can see it and she winces in sympathy. 'Looks like it was painful.'

It does look painful. It also looks startlingly real, not like a story from a book at all. And just before he drops his hand and his collar settles back into place she sees the tip of another scar, a long straight one and she swallows a sudden lump in her throat. She knows where that scar came from too.

'I was lucky to survive courtship with your mother,' he smiles ruefully. 'But courting her is a little bit like earning a relationship with you.' He adds.

'Are you insulting me?' she asks, half joking, but she's touched that he sees nothing onerous in earning her affection. He shouldn't need to but she's glad he wants to.

'See? That's what she asked me when I agreed with her about not being the jewellery type. You're just like her. No, I'm not insulting you, I'm complimenting you.'

'How's that?' she narrows her eyes at him.

'You're a sheriff. You need evidence to act on. I'm not going to be able to convince you to stay just through words. You need something more concrete than that. And at the moment the good, normal years you remember having with Henry out in Boston and New York just seem to outweigh all the dangers and strangeness here.

He's very matter of fact in his tone, which she appreciates but he can't hide what he feels entirely and it comes out in the very tense set of his shoulders. She can see that he is trying to earn it with her, all the time, and as much as she wants to dismiss it, she can't ignore that for him there is a lot at stake.

'I do get it,' he continues. 'You know, it took me a while to get used to remembering two different lives, but it was easy to choose which I wanted because frankly David Nolan was an idiot and his life live was a total mess. It sucked. I was lucky my real memories were so much better. For you the fake ones are better.'

'So you do want us to go? Choose the life that feels happier, safer, even if it's a fake?'

'No.' He shakes his head and grabs her hand across the table. She's surprised, but not in a bad way and she returns the pressure.

'I wish I could want that for you, but I'm not totally selfless. Look, Emma, you get to keep those good memories of raising Henry wherever you live now. What I want is for you to keep following the evidence. I want you to give us some time to find a way to prove to you that being with us is better.'

'You want to take an arrow to show me that it's true love?' She asks, half sceptical.

David smiles his Prince Charming smile, the one she knows her mother fell for, and Emma can see why she did. He has so much faith in the power of true love; he's so sure of what he believes. It wouldn't be hard to let herself be convinced.

'I'm hoping it won't come to that, but if it's necessary, absolutely, yes I will take an arrow to prove how much I love you.'

She struggles to meet his eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity she sees there. They may only be words, but he already carries scars that prove what he's willing to do for her. She believes he'd do it again, and that terrifies her but consoles her too as her inner voice reminds her that avoiding danger and weirdness can't be her sole motivators for choosing the life she wants for herself and Henry.

'You make a good case,' she says quietly. 'I'll make you a deal.'

'I'm listening.'

'You try and avoid any more life threatening injuries and I'll try and be open to less extreme forms of proof.'

He offers his hand over the table and they shake on it. 'Deal.'

Just as she's about to let go he leans forward and kisses her hand, like she's a real princess. It's a small piece of evidence, just to show that he's already on the case.

She files it away in her heart.

And they all lived happily ever after...

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