AN: So this is the first chapter in a three shot based off a tumblr prompt from my writing give away. The prompt is as follows:
I have this head canon that Regina gave Emma her own memories while raising Henry when they parted ways in 03x11. I'd love them having a talk where they acknowledge this, and well, just imagine all the understanding and fluffy and bonding and omg that would be so awesome.
Emma's heart breaks the second the rush of images clears from behind her eyelids. Regina. It's the first thought that appears in her mind the second she can feel her feet on the ground again. Her next thought is inevitably Henry and Regina. Everything she's believed for the last fourteen years has been a lie, a curse, a trick, a supposed present. Was it really a gift? Maybe, her brain supplies. Okay definitely. But now that it's over it's left her devastated. She's not Henry's real mom
She swallows hard and fights back tears as another barrage of memories comes into her mind, or what she had thought were memories. Now she knows it was all a fabrication weaved by Regina's magic. Did the other woman know how complex and intricate the system of false memories she created were? Did she create each one individually?
Emma immediately discards that as a possibility. They'd had mere seconds before the ominous cloud swirling with dark magic came rampaging towards them at the town line. The magic of Regina's spell must have filled in all the blanks for them as Emma and Henry made their get away in Emma's yellow bug.
She can feel Hook's presence, she knows he's waiting for her to acknowledge him, to say something, anything. But she doesn't care. In her mind's eye she's watching Henry. Henry on his first night at home with her, and just how tiny he looked. Tiny and perfect, with his little fingers reaching up and curling around one of her own. He held onto her finger so tight that night she couldn't put him down. He slept peacefully in her arms, clutching to her, and she knew that for the rest of her life she was undoubtedly his.
She's watching Henry take his first steps. He wobbled precariously as he used her pants leg to pull himself to his feet. She'd known he was on the verge of this milestone for a while now. He's developed a habit of finding something to help him stand, pulling himself up, wiggling for a moment, then falling promptly on his behind. Emma had taken to carrying a camera with her everywhere because she knew it would be soon that his first steps would happen. This time she'd had a feeling in her gut that this was it. She pulled her camera off the counter and backed a few steps away from Henry and kneeled down to his level as soon as he'd steadied himself enough not to need her leg for support. She'd called to him, and the look of concentration that came over his face made Emma's mouth twitch up in a large grin. But it was nothing compared to the surge of pride and elation she felt when he took that first step, and then another, stumbling closer and closer to his mom until he flopped into her lap. She'd forgotten to turn on the camera because she was so mesmerized by how fast her baby boy was growing.
She's watching Henry say his first word. He's babbling senselessly as she changes his diaper and she's humming to him softly. Her melody is abruptly interrupted by a loud giggle from Henry. But then he had looked up at her with those big, brown eyes so intently and suddenly his happy gurgling wasn't nonsensical. He was forming a word. "Mama" he'd said. He looked right into Emma's eyes when he'd said it. He bored into them with more focus than Emma had previously thought him capable of for his young age. He knew she was his Mama, he knew she was his, he knew she loved him, and Emma couldn't hold back the tears that choked at her. She had picked him up and held him to her chest, rocking him back and forth, murmuring to him quietly as he said "Mama" over and over.
Except she hadn't really, had she? She's not Henry's real mother because she'd given him up. All the air leaves her lungs when she remembers what really happened. How she never held Henry once as a baby, never even looked into his eyes. The duality that's tugging at all the corners of her brain is frightening in its strength. She clearly remembers both realities that she's lived and it's already starting to feel muddied up in her mind. But there's nothing that can remove the heart ache of knowing that she'd given up her son, that the woman who deserves the title of Mama more than anyone is Regina.
She feels a hand connect lightly with her shoulder and she's reminded of Hook's presence. She immediately and harshly swats his arm away. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut tight, unaware of whether she'll be allowed to relive these memories ever again. Even the bad memories are precious to her.
She sees Henry's first boo boo. He was two, happily running around the playground, shrieking with joy the way children do. But then he had tripped. As soon as his knee connected with the wood chip covered ground, Emma knew tears were not far behind. The little boy had immediately turned in Emma's direction and cried out for her, fat salty droplets making their way down his cheeks. Emma had rushed over in a frantic panic, instantly scooped up the toddler and cooed to him. She'd figured out after that if you don't make a big deal out of a boo boo neither will the child, but she couldn't help herself. She'd never seen her baby hurt before.
She sees Henry's first fever. It was a couple months after his tumble at the park. Emma had been woken up in the middle of the night by pained whimpers. She'd instantly leapt to her feet and ran to her son's room, ready to destroy anyone who would dare lay a hand on her little boy. However when she reached Henry's room, she found no one to confront. She crossed the room in quick strides to check on Henry and found him standing in the crib. His face was red and flushed, his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his eyes were bloodshot and tear stained. She remembers the pit of dread that had dropped in her stomach. She'd picked him up and knew without a doubt that it was a fever. His skin was hot to the touch and he wouldn't stop crying. He kept mumbling, "Fix it, Mama." And with each time Emma's heart broke into more shattered pieces because she couldn't. She couldn't make it better, she couldn't "fix it." She didn't sleep for three days, she was by Henry's side constantly, so constantly that she ended up getting sick herself but she didn't care. She sucked it up and pushed forward because she was his Mama and he needed her.
The memories continue to swirl until she can't take it anymore. She blinks her eyes, fighting back the tears and the pain of knowing that she didn't do any of these things. She knows deep in her heart that she had wanted to give Henry his best chance; she wasn't prepared for any of the things the memories entailed when she'd given birth to him. She wasn't ready to be anyone's mom, to be Henry's 'Mama.' And now that she remembers this once again a weight settles on her heart that she hadn't felt in a year. She opens her eyes fully and stares at the sky. She knows she can't spend much longer dwelling on her beautiful terrible gift, her family is in trouble and they need her.
She turns to Hook, determination set in her gaze. "Let's go home."