Of Heartbeats and Reassurances
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.
"No!"
She wakes up, her mouth open in a silent scream, chest heaving as she sits straight up in bed.
In seconds Snow realizes she's home, that the fading horror of her nightmare is not reality, but still her feet find the cold wood floor as she grabs her robe, only one destination in mind. Gliding down the stairs with ease, she finds what she seeks in bed, once her bed, fast asleep.
For the sake of privacy in the very open loft she and Charming had taken Emma's old room, leaving Henry and her daughter the downstairs. Getting Henry his own bed was still on their to-do list, Emma had been ready and willing to take the couch, but the argument that had ensued finally ended with her and Henry taking turns on the small piece of furniture. Tonight was Emma's night to take the bed, but it surprised Snow not to find Henry curled up beside her. Despite their agreement, the boy still suffered from his own nightmares, and both she and Charming had discovered either him or Emma sharing more than once in an attempt to bring comfort.
It was a feeling she knew too well herself, but she'd done her very best to hide it. Not even Charming knew about her little night escapades, or how many of them she's made. But each time she has that same horrible nightmare coming down and taking Emma's pulse is as reassuring as she can get beyond waking her, which she would never do. One of them needed a full night's rest after all. So she continues her vigil tonight, taking her place at Emma's side and reaching for her daughter's wrist.
In seconds she finds Emma's heartbeat, sure and steady, and she tries to match her own to it as she breathes deep. Tonight had been especially bad, and it's all she can do to not wake Emma up, to see those beautiful eyes meet hers to be truly certain.
It'd been too close, and her mind had easily warped the memory, the terror she'd felt that day come full circle as that evil witch had taken what was most precious to her in the entire world, in two worlds.
"Mare?"
She freezes, forest green eyes meeting sea blue as she opens her mouth, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.
Damn it she'd stayed too long! And now here she is caught red-handed!
In an instant she snatches her hand away, but Emma is too quick even half awake, her own hand capturing hers.
"What's wrong? Is it Henry? David?" she asks, suddenly wide-awake at the prospect.
"No, no, they're fine," she quickly reassures, but still she sits, her hand in Emma's and as much as she wants to run without explanations she can't bare to let go.
Her daughter is awake, she's alive, not some husk forever twisted in death throes.
The image flashes in her mind unbidden, veiling the real Emma before her with the one from her dream. Those bright expressive eyes dull and dead, that frowning mouth open in one last silent, tortured scream, and she can't stop the sob that rips from her throat at the sight.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. C'mere," she hears Emma whisper, the mattress shifting as she sits up, and when those warm arms come around her she clings, desperate to hold her not so little baby. Her little girl, her darling daughter, a product of love and sacrifice beyond compare, and she'd nearly been lost in a blink of an eye.
The thought brings on another wave of tears, and she's forever thankful that Emma only holds on tighter. It's a testament to their time in the Enchanted Forest that her once completely closed off daughter is so open to such physical contact, for however uncomfortable she might still be she doesn't show it.
But finally Snow's last tears fall, and she's able to pull back and not feel like her own heart would be ripped from her should she let go.
"I'm sorry," she sniffs, wiping at the remaining tears on her face, "You need your rest. I should go."
"Oh no, not happening. The price for crying on my shoulder is that I at least get to know what the crying is about," Emma stops her, grabbing her hand to further her point.
But she hesitates, where her tears had been embarrassment quickly follows. Here she sits, Emma's mother, and her daughter is the one doing the mothering.
"It was about Cora, right?"
Her head snapping up to meet Emma's gaze gives her away, but she's too focused on Emma's tone to realize that. She sounded almost empathetic, as if she knew-
"You too?"
It's Emma's turn not to look at her, and Snow's mind races as her heart breaks.
How had she not known? Not noticed? She was down here often enough, not that Emma need know that. What kind of mother was she not to realize her own daughter was suffering as well? God, was she really that self-centered?
"It's not your fault," she hears through her self-berating, and she jumps. How had she-
"It's written all over your face. Believe me I know how it feels."
And she would, wouldn't she? By all rights Emma was a new mother herself.
"Well, we're quite a pair, aren't we?" she shakes her head, having to laugh least she start crying again.
Emma chuckles back, nodding, "We are. How about this, I tell you mine if you tell me yours?"
It's a fair trade, and for Emma to tell her anything about herself, much less bad dreams is an opportunity she will not pass up, even if she had to share as well.
"Deal."
"Okay, I'll start. Mine don't happen that often, but when they do they're vivid. I even wake up sometimes with my chest feeling sore. But the worst of it is what happens when she takes my heart, because she squeezes my heart as she-"
Emma stops, clearing her throat, and Snow tightens her grip on her daughter's hand.
"She makes me watch as she kills you, and I can't do anything to stop it," she finishes in a rush, and Snow sucks in a breath, swallowing her own tears at her daughter's distress.
"And she keeps me as her puppet, takes me back with her to Storybrooke and forces me to do terrible things and-"
She doesn't need to hear anymore, her own imagination filling in the blanks. This time it's her turn to comfort, and Snow takes to the task like a fish to water. She pulls Emma close, cradling her as Emma fists a hand in her robe, her body trembling as she fails to fight back her tears.
"It's okay, it never happened. You're safe Emma, we all are thanks to you."
"But why couldn't she do it? And what else can I do if that bitch couldn't take my heart? The things she made me do in that dream, magic was involved, my magic."
And that was the crux of the problem, Snow realizes. Not only was Emma's nightmare about what Cora had done to her, but it was also about what she could have done to others. Not for the first time she is amazed at how good her daughter truly is, how pure. For all her past, for all the terrible things that had happened to her, Emma had risen above it all. What others might have used as a reason to commit evil Emma had chosen as a driving force to better her life. It had been her choice, and for her to lose that control, that power to choose, by her own magical abilities or by Cora's manipulation was terrifying above all else.
"Emma," she starts, moving her head to meet her daughter's eyes, "no matter your powers, no matter how much magic you possess, it will never consume you. You know why?"
She only shakes her head, eyes wide, and Snow has to smile.
"Because you will never allow it. You are the most stubborn person I have ever met. No one, not Charming or me or anybody else, will ever make you do something you don't want to do. And the same goes for your magic. If you believe in anything, believe in that."
Emma frowns, thinking, but after a short time glances back.
"If you believe that, I guess I can too," she nods shyly, and Snow's heart all but bursts at the thought that she was able to assuage Emma's fears.
"But what about you?" Emma asks, moving out of her arms once more. Snow's sadness at the lost of contact is short-lived when she realizes what Emma's asking.
"What about me?"
"Your dream?" she prompts further, and Snow sighs. They had made a deal-
"It is similar," she starts, hesitatingly, "But instead I was forced to watch Cora take your heart and squeeze until it became dust, her magic keeping me from rescuing you. I've never gotten past that event before waking up…"
Her words trail off, her most recent bout with the nightmare still too fresh as she closes her eyes and tries to again force the images away and the tears that come with them.
"You were so still, the light in your eyes gone, and I felt my own light die as I saw that. No mother should ever have to outlive her child."
The words leave her lips as she realizes that Emma knows exactly what she's talking about, and that for a few horrifying moments it had been Emma's reality.
"Oh Emma, I'm so sorry," she can't hold back her tears anymore, feeling like the worst mother, the worst human being in the world.
"It's okay," Emma shakes her head, blinking back her own tears again, "It's not your fault I can relate. I also get why you were checking on me. Taking my pulse right?"
She nods, but can't help the twist in her gut at the look on Emma's face.
"Emma, I really am-"
"No," she stops her, taking her hand again, "Enough sorry. We can't change the past. And as our nightmares remind us things could have gone a whole lot worse back there. We made a deal to talk about it and that's that."
Snow smiles through her crying, "Bossy as well as stubborn, eh?"
Emma just shrugs with a smirk, "Pretty sure I got it from my mother, I blame her."
Snow smirks back, but feels that their conversation is at an end. And though she wants nothing more than to keep their back and forth going, one emotional catharsis on both their parts is enough for one night. They have time now, the present and the future, and she has to remind herself of that.
"Well, I suppose I should say good night," she states, rising to stand. But Emma's hold tightens.
"You, uh. You could spend tonight here, if you want, if you think it'll help. I mean if you don't think it will then I understand but-"
Snow can hardly believe her ears. Emma wanted her to stay. She could have whooped with joy if the boys weren't fast asleep.
"I'd love to Emma," she quickly interrupts her daughter's babbling, wasting no time hopping under the covers on the other side of the bed. And while having her daughter so close would already have made her night, she feels her heart nearly burst when Emma shifts even closer, her hand finding hers once more, arranging their fingers just so, so that Snow could feel her pulse. The gesture nearly brings more tears to her eyes as she smiles.
"Night, Emma," she whispers in the dark, her joy making her bold enough to reach and press a kiss to her daughter's cheek. And while Emma stills, she doesn't pull away, and closing her eyes Snow thinks she cannot be any happier, when something even more miraculous happens.
For just as she feels herself drifting off, she swears she hears Emma whisper back, "Night…Mom."