Characters: David / Charming, Mary Margaret
Description: David remembers. Mary Margaret doesn't. Frustration ensues. One-shot.
Belief & Remembrance
Mary Margaret sat by the window with her second glass of wine, looking out at the street. She was alone for the night.
It was funny, she used to dread it – cooking alone, eating alone, being alone. Now she was almost relieved. It seemed a horribly rude thing to think, but – tonight at least – it was true.
Emma was working late and Henry and David were off on some secret mission for Operation Cobra. She was grateful when they didn't ask her to come along. She needed this time to herself. Needed this space. Needed… needed to remember.
It was an upside-down world when the person who thought he was a fairy tale character was believed and the person who didn't was brushed off as being cursed.
The worst part was that her own memories betrayed her. She didn't feel as though they were fake, but when she tried to pin anything down and look at it under the light the details would just slip away from her.
Like the ring she was twirling. It seemed to her as if she had always had it. Where had it come from? Was it a gift, an heirloom, something she had simply bought for herself? David told her it had belonged to his mother and that he had given it to her at their wedding. David told her lots of things. Sometimes she would say something and he would give her this look, like she had said that to him before and it meant something to them. Only she didn't know what, and she hated the hope on his face which faded to disappointment before he could hide it. She had started to be careful of what she said around him.
If she could just remember who had given her the book, other things might click into place. But she didn't know how she had gotten it. She only remembered the stories. It was infuriating to know what she was supposed to remember without actually remembering it.
She lifted up her now empty glass and looked through it at the mobile hanging in the corner. How could she not remember being a mother?
Suddenly furious, Mary Margaret threw the wine glass across the room and swore as it shattered against the door. Letting out a sigh, she stood and moved to the kitchen to retrieve the brush and dust pan from under the sink.
It was mostly cleaned up when someone knocked. Standing up with the pan of broken glass, she bumped her head on the door handle and winced. Mary stood for a moment to compose herself, eyes closed, her hand resting on the door knob. Putting a smile on, she twisted it open.
"David, hi."
"Hi."
She let the door open so he could come in and headed over to the kitchen to toss the broken remains in the trash. "Be careful, there might still be bits of glass on the floor."
He hung up his jacket and kicked his shoes off by the door. "Was it not good wine then?"
Mary was already taking two new glasses out of the cabinet. "Actually it's quite good. Would you like some?"
"Sure." He sat down on the couch and she joined him, two glasses of the rich, smooth red in hand.
They each took a sip. Mary knew she should ask him how the night had gone, but she didn't want to. Maybe she had had a bit too much to drink, but what she wanted was anything but that conversation. Without even really deciding to she set her glass down on the coffee table and kissed him.
For one bliss filled moment her head swam with wine and the taste of him. Then his hands went to her face and he pulled away. "Mary, I thought we agreed…" he trailed off, his voice low.
She avoided looking at him and reached for her wine. "Well it broke a curse once right?"
"It's not fair to you. And we tried that already, remember?" His hand covered hers.
"It's not fair period." She had to push down the urge to cry as she turned back to him. "I would give anything to remember. To know that I haven't always felt… empty. I want to believe in fairy tales."
He started clapping.
She had to laugh. "That's fairies, David. Not fairy tales."
"Same difference. Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "I got something for you tonight."
She accepted it from him and inside found a delicate silver bracelet. Mary sighed. "It's lovely David, but I don't remember it."
He plucked it out of the box and opened the clasp. "You're not supposed to," he said, taking her wrist. "It's new."
Mary closed her eyes as he set her wine back down on the table and put the bracelet on. It was a beautiful bracelet, both simple and elegant. The metal was cool against her skin but his fingers were warm. They grazed her pulse point and she wondered if he could feel her heart still pounding from their kiss.
David took both of her hands in his. "I know how frustrating it is to not remember things, and I know that this has been harder on you than maybe we've talked about. But I promise you, Mary Margaret Blanchard, I do not need you to remember. I don't need you to be anyone but who you are. I don't even need you to believe in what we were. Screw the past. Just believe in me now, and I swear to you I will make all this right. I will do whatever I can to make you happy."
She squeezed his hands and nodded before pulling back to wipe away her tears. He offered her a tissue and she used it to dab her eyes. Her fingers traced the bracelet on her wrist. Maybe, just maybe….
"Thank you for the gift David," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "It's beautiful."