Disclaimer: Just playing, will put everything back when finished.
It's not particularly obvious if you aren't looking for it, but it's there, just on the back of her left leg. That heart-shaped birthmark that's followed her through life, sometimes mocking, sometimes reassuring, but always there. She has plenty of other marks, other scars, other reminders, but this one is different.
Yet she forgets all about it in light of other events, including being reunited with her parents, being sucked into a portal with her mother, trying to get back to the world she grew up in, finally getting back to said word, and then taking the first amazingly long shower she's had in weeks. This shower includes a shave, but in her haste Emma doesn't notice the slice she makes on her leg, or the blood trail left in her wake until her mother's startled cry stops her at the stairs.
She tries to reassure Snow it's nothing and she'll get a tissue once in her room, but the overprotectiveness she's always seen other kids' moms display growing up suddenly washes over her adult self and she finds herself being marched right back to the bathroom in her towel.
Emma had dared to don only a towel because she knew Henry and David were out getting breakfast donuts, but now she hopes they won't come stomping in while Snow tends her minor wound in a huff.
Not a day ago I had Cora's hand in my chest and she's worried about infection from a razor cut? Emma sighs, then frowns. The firm yet smooth hands washing away the blood have stilled. Looking over her shoulder and down at Snow where she squats staring at the back of her leg, her confusion only grows.
"Everything okay?"
Emma's question makes her jump, and a strained smile tries to outmatch the shine that's come over her eyes.
"Yes, it's fine. I just- I haven't seen this since- I forgot you had this," Snow's fingers touch a spot just near her cut, and suddenly she remembers that little mark.
"Oh yeah, me too I guess," she shifts, feeling that space still between them fill with thoughts unsaid.
But rather than try and reach through that space like she's done before, her mother hesitates, then sighs, standing.
"You're right, I was overreacting. Nothing but a silly little cut."
As she moves to leave, however, Emma reaches out instead, capturing Snow's hand with hers.
Their eyes meet, but Snow's gaze is far away, back in a time Emma only has visions of and no memory, but she persists, squeezing her mother's hand, bringing her back from the past and the could have beens, the should have beens.
"It might not be the only mark I've got now, but it's one of few that matters. Okay?"
The tears are back in Snow's eyes, but she smiles all the same, and nods, squeezing Emma's hand back.