Disclaimer: Just playing, will put everything back when finished.

She wants to, but she can't, she won't.

She's a grown woman, she's gone her entire life without.

But the problem is, she now knows what it feels like to have it, and she's willing to swallow every bit of her pride to have it again.

She also knows the stiff upper lip routine can only work for so long too, and in the dark of their cabin every groan of the ship and rustling of blankets presses in on her.

She wants to scream or cry, maybe both. But most of all she wants…

Mom.

She's been itching to say that word, that name, for weeks now. Waiting for the right time, the right moment, when the moment had found them instead.

It suited her, as no other name Emma had known her by had. It had felt right, even in that horrific situation. This wonderful, amazing woman was her mother. Her mother who wanted her, loved her, and put her first, every time.

Maybe it's about time she starts getting used to it.

"Mom?"

It's barely above a whisper, but a familiar figure instantly sits up in their cot at the call, and with only a glance Snow is out of bed and by her daughter's side.

"Emma?"

"Mom…"

"Oh, honey…"

Emma has never been a big believer in crying it out, but being held tight as tear after tear falls, fingers clenching just as tightly at the fabric of her mother's shirt, feeling Snow's own hand move up and down her back, the touch just as soothing as the words she whispers into her ear, she can't help but think there's something to it.

Or maybe, it's just crying it out with Mom.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here, I've got you."

Yeah, she snuggles closer, it's the latter.