Decent spoilers for 3x01, from a set pic they released. There may or may not be some unnecessarily added fluff that is added at the end of this cause i'm in desperate need of some daddy!charming feels. don't judge me :p ;)
When he reflects on it later, he thinks it is absolutely terrifying how much your world can change in a single instant.
They're on the deck when it happens. The wind has picked up, as if the island they're approaching is aware of the outsiders incoming. Emma looks like she's glowing from the grin that is on her face. She was the one in the nest upon the post, declaring as she scrambled down, Land Ahoy! Or whatever the hell you say, but there's LAND. Because land means they're that much closer to Henry. Her declarations pull everyone but Rumpelstiltskin from their bunks below, everyone eager to soak in the sight of it.
It's small-barely a blip on the horizon-but it's there. Henry.
They all hug one another as they burst with excitement, Snow and David and Emma and Regina. Hook is at the helm of the ship, and David nods at him from across the deck, his heart warming at the sight of the small smile on the pirates lips. The winds howl by their ears, whipping their hair around their heads, but no one even blinks; their relief and excitement cannot be stifled.
Until the waves hit, that is. The ship pitches to and fro forcefully, causing those at the stern of the ship to stumble ever so much. David reaches out to steady his wife, and his daughter, but she is out of his reach and she stumbles just that much more, having been caught off-balance. He can see the heavy rope coiled by the ship's side, tries to cry out a warning, but in her calm attempt to steady herself, Emma isn't looking out for it.
And in that single instant, she's gone.
The shock of it stills them for a moment, their celebration ceasing as the horror of what has just transpired dawns on them slowly. The sun is setting on the horizon, the light quickly receding from the world, and they were most definitely close enough to the island that the mermaids in the water would be patrolling around to protect it.
He hears Snow's voice first, raw and desperate when she cries out their daughter's name, rushing to the ships railing. Regina follows quickly, panic on her features, and he finds it odd that he thinks of how nice it is that she seems sincerely concerned. The pirate is moving fast out of the corner of his eye, dropping anchor and rushing toward the side as well with a type of spotlight, scanning the water's below. And while the movements are quick in real-time, for some reason, in his mind, he will remember it all very slowly.
He doesn't understand why, but he suddenly straightens, and without even thinking, hurries over to join them in their frantic search. He doesn't even bother to look over the side, but crouches instead and reaches for the rope she had tripped over moments before, unwinding it as he stands up and hoists himself up on the railing. Snow's voice is pitching louder and more panicked; Regina has even placed a hand on her stepdaughter's shoulder in a gesture of consolation. His eyes scan the water's surface quickly, but there is no sign of his girl.
"Give me your dagger." His voice is strong and serious, he's not sure how. He supposes that it's a part of him he has learned to call for when times are tough; where panic usually takes over, he refuses to feel it, because panic has never helped anything. And for the second time in her life, Emma needs him to help save her life, and there is no way he's going to muck that up. He ties the rope around his waist, knotting it so there is no chance it will come undone.
"Charming, be careful." Snow's voice quivers, tears cascading down her face.
"I'll be fine." He responds in a clipped tone. He turns back to her for a moment, so much unsaid hidden in his gaze; i love you, I'll be right back, don't be afraid. "I'll come back with her," is what he settles for. He sheath's the dagger under the rope with a nod to the pirate who is staring back at him nervously, lips pursed as he looks back down at the dark water. Without another thought, he dives in.
It's really very cold, something he thinks he would've expected. He is thankful for the spotlight that Hook thought to bring with them; it shines enough that he is able to gain his bearing before he propels himself forward, arms outstretched as he fights to keep his eyes open in the salt water that burns them.
Emma, Emma, Emma.
He has to surface before he'd like to, and he is vaguely aware of his wife's screams before he dives back in, a bigger gulp of air and strong strokes until he finds himself in a darker, deeper place.
But there, he thinks, a tuft of gold...
Emma.
Her hair floats around her head in a chaotic mess, and he can feel the pressure in his ears build, the burning of his lungs intensify as he propels himself forward. Her arms float above her head, eyes closed and her expression terrifyingly serene. Momentarily, he wonders why she is not floating to the top of the water, but he knows her clothes are probably heavy, the boots alone enough to take her down.
He's starting to see spots, but he blinks them away as he reaches out a hand to grab hers and pull. She moves but a little; the same heavy boots have become ensnared in a patch of seaweed. He is so thankful for the pirate's dagger.
By the time he slices through the plant and heaves his daughter's arm over his shoulder, he's starting to get dizzy. He exhales a little as he pushes up, clawing to the surface of the water as he works to get them higher, higher.
He breaks into the open air with a gasp, and ironically enough, it is the comparison of a man dying of thirst drinking for the first time which crosses his mind. He can see Regina and Mary, he can hear Hook; he has stopped swimming at this point, feeling exhausted for the first time. He uses the last bit of strength he has left to keep Emma above water. Her lips have become tinted blue; his heart slams into his ribcage.
He has them pull her up first, and he follows as the Captain throws down an extra rope. As he helps the former Prince climb above the ship, the pirate allows the man to push him out-of-the-way as David desperately stumbles to where Mary is cradling their unconscious offspring in her lap, pleading sobs escaping her lips.
He doesn't notice Regina standing behind, wringing her hands, legitimately worried, nor does he notice Hook behind him, already apparently grief striken. It's probably for the better; there is a light in the pirate's gaze he more than likely wouldn't appreciate, a fire that burns bright for this woman on the wood in front of him, where another woman he loved so long ago left him. He's stunned to realize that he cannot lose this one as well.
"David, help me." Snow is suddenly amazingly calm; he has always admired that about her, the way she can think in a crisis. She lowers their daughter's head to the deck, tilting her chin up and back. "Thank the gods for Mary Margaret and her CPR."
"I'm going to get a blanket," Regina suggests, turning away from the group, wanting to do anything to help, but wanting to give them their privacy. There is a part of her, she thinks, that should enjoy this; that Snow's happy ending is slipping away. But all she can think of is the mine shaft, how they wouldn't leave her alone; she thinks of Henry and how she cannot tell her son that his other mother is dead. She feels like she doesn't belong here on the deck, witnessing this intimate moment, nor does she want to; there is even a tinge of remorse, for the part she has played in all of their misery. Having Henry has taught her the pain of almost losing a child, and it's beginning to feel like too harsh a punishment for anyone to bear, even if that person is Snow White.
David and Snow don't bat an eye at the offer. He is too busy holding Emma's wrist, probably tighter than he should, offering silently prayers and promises for a reprieve from this terror. Snow has started compressions to their daughter's chest, breathing into her mouth when she needs to.
It's a long twenty seconds later, but Emma begins to choke, and then cough, fighting to sit up a bit and turn as salt water flows from her mouth. David is pretty sure it's the second most wonderful sound he's ever heard, the first being a cry that split the warm fall air far too many years ago, but from the same mouth. He doesn't even realize that tears are mixing with the sea water on his face until everything turns blurry, but he doesn't care.
"Emma!" Snow takes her back into her lap, pulling her daughter close, softly wailing as she repeats her name over and over, rocking her back and forth as she weeps fresh tears of relief into her damp hair. Emma's eyes are darting back and forth, confused and startled for the moment, and when they find David's, her eyebrows shoot up as if she understands. Her free arm curls around her mother's own that is clutching her, rocking her, and her eyes close as she relaxes into her embrace. David feels her hand arch back and grab his own where it rest on her wrist; as she squeezes, he leans in toward his wife, bring his other arm to join in the embrace.
Regina leaves the blanket at her feet and backs away, leaving the little family to their moment.
"Am I ever going to be allowed back up on deck?"
David stifles a chuckle as he turns to where Emma lounges in her hammock. They've gotten much closer to shore, anchored up in a little lagoon on the backside of the island where Hook promises no one will notice them, that it's safe for them to stay-at least for a few days.
They've both changed into dry clothes, Emma's still damp hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She is under a few blankets, a mug of hot broth in her hand (where in the hell did you get chicken broth on a ship, anyway?!, she had exclaimed, only to have Snow harshly hush her). It's a been a few hours since her near death experience and though she speaks in her normal, sardonic tone, he can see a touch of nerves in her eyes. Her voice, though, never wavers.
"I think that decision will probably be left up to Snow."
She smirks. "Ah, so that will be 15 minutes 'til never. Got it." She sips at her broth, rolling her eyes. He strolls over next to her, plopping down on a cask of rum Hook's been saving "for a nice occasion", whatever that means. She eyes him strangely, then looks down at her lap.
"So, uh. Thanks for...you know. Not letting me drown out there."
It hurts to hear her say it, so bashfully as if she might think he would've considered anything else. He knows declarations of affection and warm, mushy moments are not really her thing, so he slaps a half grin on his face and shrugs a shoulder. "Well, I was going to hold up a cue card with a score on it for your form, but I thought better of it."
She chokes out a laugh, shaking her head. "That was a stupid dad joke."
He laughs with her. "Yeah, yeah, it kind of was." He doesn't let on how he's tap dancing on the inside. Instead, he takes his chance, and presses a kiss to her head before standing up. "I knew you'd be okay. You're too tenacious for some dingy little lake water."
"Sea, water." She corrects him, with a tilt of her head towards him; her eyes are shining. "I'm serious, though. Thank you. I've never had anyone who would put themselves in harm's way to save me before..." She trailed off, shaking her head, and his stomach lurches at a memory suddenly recalled, unbidden, a similar face but with darker features, her words somberly close to Emma's.
"No one's ever done anything like this for me before; no one's ever been willing to die for me,"
It is a devastating one, but he still smiles tightly, stuffing his hands in his trousers. "No one you can remember."
He says it softly, not wanting to rattle her but he needs her to know; there is never a chance he will ever choose himself over her safety, and that hasn't changed, and won't, no matter if it's been 28 years or 100. When her head snaps up toward him, wide eyes growing wider, he can only smile more sorrowfully back. He doesn't care if it upsets her. "I love you, Emma Swan."
Her chin appears to tremble just a little a bit, and she waits for a few moments, swallowing once or twice before she nods. "Yeah. Me too."
He laughs at that, a genuine joyful one, because he knows she means it, but she's a little slower on the draw than he or Snow will be, and that's okay. She breaks into a grin, the sob fest averted, much to her relief. He reaches out and ruffles her messy hair-such a dad thing to do-and she smirks as she lets him. "I'll see if I can persuade the warden to allow me to post bail."
"It will be well appreciated." She pauses. "Hey dad?"
He freezes. She's said it a couple of times since the mines, only softly, when no one else was around, but it still leaves him breathless every time. "Yeah?"
"I'm not Emma Swan...anymore." She shrugs, shaking her head. Her voice is clear and unwavering. "She...she didn't have this. You shouldn't call me it, is what I mean."
His forehead wrinkled. "And what would we call you then?" He wonders, bemused, if maybe there's still some seawater in her head. He sobers at her next statement.
"Nolan? Blanchard? Nolan-Blanchard? Blanchard...Nolan?" Her face screws up as she says them out loud, and then shrugs again. He's thrown at the suggestion, a thought he had never really entertained. But it means so much to him, he's surprised to find, that she apparently has.
He clears his throat and swallows. "I don't...I don't really know, I guess? Something to run past your mother, I think though."
Her smile is bright. "Yeah, probably a good idea. Okay, sorry, I didn't want to keep you..."
"You're never keeping me, Emma." He lays a hand on the railing preparing to join the others topside. "And you never should feel like you have to thank me for something like earlier. Understood?"
She nods slowly. "Yes, sir. Crystal clear."
"Good. Now get some rest...or pretend to get some rest. And we'll see about getting you some shore leave."
As he climbs the stairs, he smiles as he hears her groan at the jest; he can practically see her rolling her eyes.
It seems there are other dad things he's good at too.