DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OUAT, MY GIRLS WOULD BE TOGETHER IF I DID. I DO NOT OWN RENT IN ALL IT'S MUSICALLY GENIUS GLORY. FINALLY, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
AN: So, I got this idea while listening to the Rent soundtrack and just had to ruin everyone's day with my evil fic-filled brain. If it's any consolation, it took me a good two days to write this because I kept having to take breaks, and definitely almost cried a good 3-4 times while planning it out and writing it. Enjooooooooooooooooooooooooy.
Emma wasn't one to write eulogies. She was never in anyone's life long enough for death to be an issue. When Neal died, they couldn't have a standard service thanks to, yet again, another threat to Storybrooke. Even then, she wasn't sure what she would have said. Though she honestly loved Neal, she spent 10 years bitterly angry with him, tainting their past memories, and with Henry missing his memories, she couldn't divulge the recent good times they had together.
She had just stepped into her office when she got the call. Dead on impact. Something in the road had punctured the tire, car spun out, driver side slammed into a tree. She always had a knack for speeding, always telling Emma that she was being overly cautious. From that moment on, Emma couldn't remember breathing. Her father came to drive her to the hospital; he never stopped talking, though Emma heard only one thing from him.
"Henry," she had gasped through a strangled breath.
"Let him have a normal day," David answered in a hushed tone.
Emma glanced at him. He looked conflicted, tears in his eyes, but unsure what to make of the situation. This was new to him as well. Prince Charming didn't have loved ones die. His mother's death hit him hard and from that moment, he fought to keep everyone safe. They survived every adversary, crossed realms multiple times and against all odds, their little family stayed intact. To be undone by something so small and simple as a nail confounded him. Wraiths, Dark Ones, Ogres, Giants and witches all fell before them, but a tiny scrap of metal broke their family.
That had been a week ago and Emma was standing in front of a casket; dark mahogany with roses carved into the sides; she really had to hand it to Marco.
The week had been a blur, to the point that she hardly remembers it. She let her father tell Henry while she sat by, present enough to hold her sobbing son; guilt bit at her chest, though later Henry would continue to tell her that he never blamed her for not having the strength to tell him.
She stood in front of the casket, only slightly feeling a room of eyes on her but fully feeling the wall of grief pushing at her back. She tried to take in a breath that she hadn't been able to take in full for a week and seven hours. Reaching in the casket, she trailed her fingers through dark chestnut hair, the ends just trailing her collarbone. She had let it grow out some, but always complained and threatened to get it cut, frequently calling to make an appointment at the salon; until Emma would pull it back, cup her face and tell her to stop hiding the face she loved. Then Regina would roll her eyes, blushing like a virgin bride on her wedding night and inevitably call and cancel her appointment (Emma later found out that after the third cancellation in two weeks, the receptionist stopped writing down Regina's appointments). She tucked a piece of hair behind Regina's ear, gently running her thumb along a blushed cheek.
In the week of planning, Snow had stayed with Emma, leaving Baby Neal, who, now in kindergarten, would yell at you for calling him "baby", at home with David. Though she stayed in the guest room, she woke almost every morning to find Emma curled into a ball next to her. On the nights that Emma didn't join her, Snow would inevitably find her huddled in the living room watching Rent. Emma had shown Regina the movie on their first date and Regina instantly loved it. The movie was frequently on repeat and trying to pull Emma from the couch was like trying to pull teeth.
The first time Emma truly cried was two nights after Regina died. Snow awoke at 3am to find Emma staring blankly at the screen. Snow felt chills move down her body at the empty look in Emma's eyes and when she moved to turn the movie off, Emma came alive.
"No! Don't!" Emma shrieked in a voice Snow had never heard before and launched off the couch. "Stop! It was her favorite!"
It took Snow a moment to snap out of her shock as Emma was smacking at her hands and pulling at her wrists. "Okay, it's okay. You're okay," she chanted these words over and over as she pulled Emma to her, slowly moving, allowing Emma to watch her push the play button, before once again wrapping both arms around Emma. This was not the way Snow envisioned finally parenting Emma. She pictured wedding days, more grandchildren; certainly not cradling her inconsolable fully grown child on the living room floor of the one she lost.
"Come on, baby," Snow said softly, attempting to lift Emma and move her to the couch.
"No, no, no," Emma sobbed, clinging tighter to Snow. "I don't wanna go."
"We're not leaving," Snow reassured, gently running her fingers through Emma's hair. "We're just moving to the couch, see?" After a moment, Emma loosened her grip and allowed Snow to lead her to the couch, though once there, she re-instituted her grip around Snow's body, her head resting on Snow's lap as her gaze once again fell on the screen.
Snow did not sleep that night, only realizing it was morning when she heard Henry coming down the stairs.
"Grandma?" his voice still groggy from sleep.
"Hey, honey," Snow answered in a whisper. She grabbed a nearby throw pillow, carefully tucking it under Emma's head and letting out a grateful breath when the blonde didn't wake up. She crossed the room to stand in front of Henry, sadly realizing how little he looked. Despite the years, the inches grown and the stubble appearing, he now looked like the ten year old trying to break a curse. Reaching up, Snow moved a stray hair from Henry's forehead and gently cupped his cheeks. "How are you?"
He merely shrugged, furthering his young image. "I was asleep in their, uh, bed," he said motioning toward his sleeping mother. "And she was gone when I woke up," he glanced back at the couch where his mother was sleeping, "is she okay?" Snow's heart broke and her breath caught at the earnestness in his voice and his ever present caring disposition.
"She's…as good as expected," she answered, wishing she could paint a happier picture, but knew that at this moment, that simply wasn't possible. She watched as Henry walked to the couch, carefully leaning over the back, staring at his mother, then carefully draped the blanket over her sleeping form.
"Do you want some breakfast?" Snow asked, looking to break the silence but not wanting to push Henry into talking before he was ready. Receiving another shrug, she simply made her way to the kitchen, glad that she heard Henry's shuffling behind her.
When Emma did leave the house, she received half deep condolences and half suggestions on a eulogy. "Make sure you mention her family", "make sure you mention Henry", "makes sure you mention her mayorship", "make sure you don't mention the Evil Queen". Though out in the town, these endless words never seemed to phase her, in the quiet of the house, they never left her head.
Another 3am, Snow found Emma in Regina's study, surrounded by a sea of crumpled paper. Snow watched her for a minute, calling out from the door as Emma ripped another page from the pad and threw it to the ground, "Hey, Em," giving Emma a chance to adjust to her presence. "How's it coming?"
"Crap," Emma mumbling, frantically scrawling on the pad, only to angrily crumple the paper and add it to the pile, but slightly chuckling as she did so. "She would absolutely kill me if she saw this room…can't put that in a eulogy," the last sentence caught in her throat and she bitterly swiped at another tear; she was so tired of crying.
Snow quickly crossed the room, moving around the couch to sit in front of Emma. She allowed a small, sad smile to grow on her face, thinking about how Regina would kill her for sitting on her designer coffee table. "Honey, could I make a suggestion?" she carefully asked while pulling the notepad from Emma's grip.
"Not like you're the only one."
"Don't write anything," Snow kept her hold on Emma's hands despite the confused look she was met with. "That song you are," she caught herself and her heart clenched as Emma tried to pull away, but Snow tightened her grip on Emma's hands. "The song you were always singing to Regina. I could tell how much she loved it. The last time I saw that blush and that look in her eyes was when I was 11 and she was telling me that true love is magic. She was so happy, Em," seeing Emma shrug self-deprecatingly, turning her gaze down her their clasped hands and realized that Emma took what she said the wrong way. She pulled on hand free, slipping it under Emma's chin not moving until her daughter's met her own. "She was happy with you, Emma Swan. The only time I saw her face so bright, so open was when she was 17 and saving me from a runaway horse. She was so happy with you, Emma," she ignored her own tears and focused on Emma's, pulling the blonde close to her. She hated that this happened to her, to them. She had grown to love Regina. She changed, helped them in Neverland; Snow noticed that first look Regina gave Emma, the two women holding their son and Regina looking at Emma like the sun rose and set in her eyes. She helped them beat Zelena, despite the woman being her only family left. Most importantly, she loved Emma. "Just sing to her, baby."