CAN I JUST SAY THAT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS FROM 'SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT' WAS WHEN EMMA KICKED TAMARA'S BUTT? JUST SAYIN…
When Henry had gotten home from school and Emma had called him up to their room, he had panicked a little at first, not that he would ever admit it. He had been sure he was in trouble, though he honestly couldn't even figure out what for. Usually, he has some sort of inkling as to why his mother is looking at him with disbelief, irritation, and joy, but this time, he'd really not had a clue. As they sit in silence on the bed together, he's beginning to get the sense that something bad happened.
"Mom?" He says quietly, gently prodding her thigh with his pointer finger. The blonde looks up from her hands, startled slightly, before proceeding to wring them together. At that, Henry gets scared. He knows his mom well enough to know that she'll generally –or, at least, most of the time– spit out whatever she has to and wait for the fallout. He mentally takes stock of everyone he's seen alive in the last half hour; Regina's recuperating, but otherwise fine, and both his Grandma and Gramps are downstairs making dinner. Emma's right next to him… so who does that leave? Sure, he hasn't seen Neal, but that's not out of the ordinary since he stays at Granny's. Emma glances at Henry quickly before returning her gaze once again to her hands, then looks far off in the distance towards the closed door. Finally, it hits Henry that she doesn't look okay. Her hair's kind of messed up and she looks pale. It's her green eyes, so much like his own, that scare him the most. They're slightly red, and he knows that if someone who didn't know her as well as he does saw, they'd think nothing of it. But Henry knows her. He knows she doesn't have allergies –besides, he's pretty sure pollen doesn't make it all the way up to Storybrooke. No, she's been crying, and that terrifies him because Emma Swan does not cry. Well, ninety nine percent of the time. It's those rare, one percents that always give him anxiety and make him nauseous because something really bad had to have happened to make her cry. And really bad, in Storybrooke, means someone died. As much as Henry wants answers, he makes himself wait patiently until she's ready. He hears her open her mouth to say something, then close it. He has to smile to himself a little. It's no secret that she's the most un-eloquent person on the planet. At last, it seems that she's found at least suitable words. Record time, he thinks, only seven minutes and twenty two seconds.
"Henry, you remember when I told you the story about your dad? The fake one?" Emma's voice is tight, and Henry doesn't miss the slight wobbling.
"Yeah." He nods. Maybe she lied again.
"Um, I want you–" Her voice catches, and his hand instantly shoots out to grasp her own. "I need you to know something." She continues. "Your dad, he uh, he… that story, it wasn't a complete lie now. I mean, I know that doesn't change much and that's not really the point I'm just kinda using it as a springboard… he's uh, he's a hero, Henry. And he um, he –he–" She falters again. She forces the words around a lump in her throat, "He died today saving me to make sure you don't have to grow up the way me and him did."
"What happened?" Henry sounds hollow and logical, and now it's Emma's turn to be scared. She knows what he's going through: the initial shock where nothing's hit you yet and all you want is answers so maybe you can deny it to yourself. For now, though, she's willing to let the shock consume him, because once the pain hits him, she knows it'll be bad. Although she wants nothing more than to hole herself up in a closet somewhere (it's the only place she can get some peace and quiet) and cry, she forces herself to put on a brave face and relive the day's events for Henry's sake. She takes a moment before speaking, trying to salvage any little bit of a wall she can.
"We were looking for Regina." Emma swallows thickly. "Eventually, we were led to a warehouse for canning sardines and we found her. David and Mary Margaret were tending to her while me and Neal were checking the rest of the place out. We ran into Tamara. She knocked me out and then sh– shot your dad." Henry hears a muttering of an expletive, and he squeezes her hand. "I kicked Tamara's ass," He's pretty sure they're going to be hearing that phrase for the next few weeks, "but apparently I shouldn't have been so nice. She threw a magic bean at us before I got the chance to shoot her, and… honestly, it's hard to remember." She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts. "I was holding onto Neal as he was dangling over the portal, and I didn't want to let him go because he would bleed out wherever he landed and… Oh God, Henry, I am so sorry! I tried to save him but he wouldn't let me… he just let go…" the last sentence comes out no more than a whisper, and it breaks Henry's heart to see his mother like this. So, he does the only thing a ten year old boy knows how to do in a situation like this: he wraps her in the biggest hug he can. She holds him close.
"I don't blame you, Mom." He says quietly. "You tried and… that's all you can do. There was nothing you could've done to stop Dad–" he fumbles on the word, and finally his floodgates, too, open, and now they both have unchecked tears running down their faces. "One thing I've learned from you and Grandma and Gramps is that a parent will do anything for their kid. Dad was just… he was doing what he had to do to keep me safe and even though it hurts now, I know I'm better off cause I'll still have you."
"You're so smart, you know that, Kid?" Emma's eyes shine with pride as she smoothes his hair back into its original position. "And so, so mature?"
"I think between you and Dad, that's where I get my brain from. But my maturity? I have no idea. You and Dad are… and he was… the most immature people I know. Gramps has his moments, too, and Grandma's pretty goofy. I'd say Regina, but she still hasn't gotten over something that Grandma did what, forty years ago?"
"You know what?" For the first time in what feels like ages, Emma smiles. "Maybe you get it from Milah, Gold's crazy ex-wife."
"But that doesn't make sense if she's crazy."
"Well, she knew enough to leave him and run off with Hook." The blonde says, sliding off the bed.
"You're saying that's a good idea?" Henry raises an eyebrow.
"No!" Emma's quick to defend herself. "But I think he's a better choice than Gold. A tiny bit less psycho."
"So I can hang out with Killian?" He asks hopefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Oh, so now you're on a first name basis with him?" Seeing where her answer is going, Henry darts past her and throws the door open before running down the stairs. "That's a 'no', Henry! Absolutely not! You cannot hang around with Captain Freaking Hook!" She follows her son to the bottom of the stairs, where the commotion has drawn David and Mary Margaret. The latter two looked shocked and worried –rightfully so– at mother and son's appearances. Emma throws them a small smile, mouthing 'it's okay'. As Henry wanders into Mary Margaret's room to chat with Regina, Mary Margaret takes a moment to talk with her own child.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about it right now," the brunette says quietly, "but I'm here whenever you're ready."
"Thanks, but… I think I'm okay for now. I know I won't be in a little bit, which might be in a couple days, you know, once it all really sinks in that Neal's gone…" Emma sighs. "All I need to know is that Henry's okay, and that's enough peace of mind for right now." Mary Margaret gives her a disbelieving look, but is willing to let it slide for now. It's not like she can argue with Emma about putting her own needs aside for someone else's –she's done it many times for Emma, which is exactly what the blonde's doing for her son, so she understands the mindset.
"The offer will always stand." Mary Margaret says firmly. Emma reaches out and squeezes her hand.
"I know." The younger woman replies hesitantly, and those two words make Mary Margaret's day.
"How's Henry?" The brunette asks after a moment, carefully taking a peek behind her into her room to spy on the boy.
"I don't know." Emma runs a hand through her already tangled hair. "I mean, it seems like he's taking it remarkably well, but I just…" she trails off, not sure how to explain it.
"You don't quite buy it?" Mary Margaret offers.
"Yeah." She nods. "It's like, I've put on the act enough times to see it when someone's doing it and… he's just so damn chipper regardless of the fact that his dad just got sucked through a portal to his death. I mean, he was upset, but now he's calmed down. I just don't get it." Emma shakes her head.
"He's resilient, Emma." Mary Margaret says. "And he has Charming's faith and optimism. I think, that those three things combined, are part of what's getting him through this. He's focusing on the bright side: that he didn't lose you, and also, that Regina's going to be okay." Emma sways a little. "Emma?" Mary Margaret's eyes go from cheerful to concerned in less than a second. "Are you okay?"
"Me?" The blonde scoffs. "I'm fine. I just got a little bump on the head from Tamara, that's all."
Mary Margaret narrows her eyes. "Let me take a look."
"I said I'm fine." Emma bats away Mary Margaret's hand. Whether it's due from the emotional drainage or the physical drainage, the brunette somehow gets Emma to turn around.
"That is most definitely not a little bump!" Mary Margaret exclaims, her eyes widening at the nearly lime-sized raised circle. Emma rolls her eyes, and David simply stares at the mother-daughter duo.
"Snow? Is there something I should know about?" He asks while wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
"She has a good sized bump on her head, Charming." Mary Margaret calls back, alarm laced through her voice. "Emma, do you think you have a concussion?"
"Guys, I'm fine." The blonde rolls her eyes again. "If I thought I had a problem, I'd tell you." At her parents unconvinced stares, she continues, "Seriously, don't worry."
"Someone has to worry about you." Mary Margaret says, and while the wording was one of a sort-of-joke, her tone is no-nonsense.
"I've been taking care of myself for twenty eight years!" While exasperated, Emma's loudness is good-natured. "I think I can worry if I feel it's warranted."
"You see, my Darling," Mary Margaret cups her cheek, slightly surprised when Emma shies away from the contact, "you don't worry about yourself nearly enough. So, me, your father, and Henry will worry about your for you."
"Okay, well, I'm an adult and you can't force me to do anything. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm hungry."
"We're making dinner." Mary Margaret and David say in unison, earning a mix between a sigh and a chuckle from Emma.
"You sure David's not gonna burn the apartment down?" The blonde quips. Henry, despite his distress, giggles. David sticks his tongue out and Regina shuffles into the kitchen.
"It's rotisserie chicken." Snow says with a smile. "It's already cooked, we're just warming it up. Regina, you're welcome to stay."
"I –what?"
"Never thought I'd see her speechless." Emma mutters. Both women throw her a glare, which she returns. "But whatever. She's sick and we've all had one Hell of a day. Just don't poison anything and don't blow us all up… you know what? Just don't try to kill us period, how 'bout that?"
"Honestly Miss Swan, I'm beginning to give up the notion." Regina sighs, sitting herself down at one end of the table, still looking as regal as ever. "You three seem to be impossible to kill." At first, the four members of Clan Charming stare at her, mouths agape, before they register the almost imperceptible twitch of her lips.
"It was a joke, guys." Emma says. "Regina doesn't mean any harm. Immediately, anyway." Cautiously, Henry asks,
"Moms, you're both gonna be okay, right?"
"Yes." Regina and Emma say in unison, yet Henry gives them an incredulous look.
"I mean, you know, cause Regina nearly got electrocuted to death and Emma got hit in the head and… I just lost my dad… I can't lose anyone else."
"Oh, Henry." The blonde rushes over to her son's side and embraces him, despite her ribs' protests. Regina longs to do the same, but she doesn't know how Henry will react. Instead, she sends him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "We're both going to be fine." The fact that the kid's so worried for them –for her– warms her heart but also sends guilt through her. "I'm sure it takes more than a little electricity to kill the Evil Queen, don't you think?" Emma tries to believe her own words, but seeing how shaken Regina is –something she's certain the brunette would never in a million years let her see– is tipping Emma off to just how not okay the mayor is. Then there's the fact that Regina's paler than Mary Margaret's. "And as for me, well, I have a hard head."
"A thick head is more like it." Regina quips, earning herself an unimpressed glare from David. Henry laughs a little at that, and that is definitely worth whatever threat the prince is sure to make the next time they're alone.
"Didn't someone say something about food?" Emma says to derail the little moment before it could get to mushy dangerous territory.
"I did." Mary Margaret smiles. Henry rushes to the kitchen, clearly not content to wait for someone to bring the chicken over to him. Regina pulls Emma and Mary Margaret to the side.
"Thank you." The brunette says quietly. "For saving me–"
"Finding family, it's what we do." Mary Margaret interjects. Regina continues with an eye roll,
"And for inviting me to stay. I know it's the last thing you want, me in your home, but it… it means a lot."
"What did you think we were gonna do?" Now it's Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "Save your ass only to let you die of starvation cause you can barely stand up, let alone cook?"
"I was thanking you, and you say that!?" Bitch mode: on.
"Jesus Regina, loosen up." Emma smiles goofily, hitting the smaller woman on the arm. "It was a joke." The other two follow her into the kitchen. Regina simply stares at the four of them, wondering how the Hell they deal with each other every day.