Emma doesn't know why she bothers coming to these council meetings. She's even more confused as to why her parents (it's still beyond weird to even think the word) insist on her presence at each and every one. She's never felt more out of place in her whole life than she does sitting at one of the school desks that have been rearranged in Mary Margaret's (Snow's? Mom's?) old classroom to form the classic (and stereotypical) circle. Most times she sits as far back in her seat as possible, silently observing the rest of the group, and stammering in embarrassment whenever her opinion is asked for.
It's especially hard to find her voice today. On the one hand, she had been called out to the scene of the crash when it happened (yes, she kept her job as sheriff for no other reason than it is the last semblance of normalcy she has left in this brave new world). She saw first hand the extent of Ava and Nicholas's injuries and she knows the desperation the threat on your child's life can cause a person. She wouldn't want Henry lying in a hospital bed with Regina's left hand (her right being Sidney, of course) hovering over him all the time.
But then again, what does she know after all? She is sitting in a room full of people who talk about magic and curses as if they are the rule of things, calling each other by names she's only ever read about or seen in movies before, and trying not to fall into the trap of arguing amongst themselves over every little thing.
The council is a good idea in theory, Emma supposes, but really, it just seems like they don't do anything. By now, she's heard plenty of stories about the little band of misfits her parents had to help them back in the fairy tale land (most of them are in the room now), and its obvious the council was meant to mimic that camaraderie. But Mary Margaret and David aren't queen and king in this world, they have no armies to command, no fortresses to hole up in and defend if Regina attacks. Worst of all, what little magic they have at their behest is weak and not effective against a direct assault.
Because, while the violet mist did bring back some magic, it seems that different types of magic were affected in different ways. This room is full of people who, at one time, were probably very useful to have on one's side in a conflict, but are now little more than regular old human beings with schizophrenic tendencies. The Blue Fairy is just a woman with a smattering of "innate magic capabilities," Ruby no longer transforms into a scary monster every month, and Archie is definitely no cricket.
"Look, I'm just a simple woodcutter." Michael's (though his real name is Otto, and that always makes Emma laugh; Regina is an evil witch, but at least she has a sense of humor) voice is so tense Emma can't help but pay attention now. "I don't know how magic works. I've grown up all my life being told that fairies can do anything. That they are made of pure magic. Now, how is it that a whole group of fairies can't fix up my kids?"
All the heads turn to look at the Blue Fairy, who is looking exasperated to say the least. "I have told you before, Otto, as I have reminded everyone on this council before, we fairies are not made of pure magic. We are naturally gifted in arcana, but we require a focus for more complicated and potent spells. That is why we use wands. And, once again, we are not in possession of our wands. The Evil Queen is most likely keeping them, and until we are able to recover at least one, then our magic will be stunted at best." She leans forward on her desk, piercing Michael with a look that crosses between sympathetic and irritated. "I know you are concerned for you children, but we are doing what we can and they are making considerable progress."
Michael also leans in now, mimicking the fairy's action, his eyes wide and fierce. "You know what else I was told growing up? That if you're not important enough for a fairy to pay attention to, then you can always go to Rumpelstiltskin, and he'll do anything for you."
Even Emma can hear the unsaid 'for a price.' Though, she doesn't need to point that out, as the room becomes a cacophony of protests, so she returns to simply observing her fellows.
Mary Margaret is among those trying to talk Michael down, but her voice is getting drowned out by the men's arguments and it is obviously frustrating her. Of all the people Emma has met in Storybrooke, Mary Margaret is the one she's had the most trouble adjusting to changing. The mousy school teacher she had come to know was nothing like the woman she is supposed to call her mother. Emma learned with a quickness just why Regina had changed Snow into something more... non-threatening. If she thought she had seen who Mary Margaret really was when she scolded Emma for trying to leave with Henry... well, it was nothing compared to the lecture she got about the council's role in providing hope to a despairing Storybrooke.
David was an even bigger surprise. Before coming to town, Emma had never seen a man strike out so badly with a woman. Now, she's seen just why his nickname is Charming. It almost amuses her... until she realizes he's her father. Then, inevitably, she has to excuse herself for feeling like she's watching something she shouldn't be.
"But how do you even know the wands work now?" Michael shouts over the din, clearly getting increasingly angry with the rest of the council. "I don't want to risk my skin getting back your stupid fairy wand if it won't even work. Rumpelstiltskin -"
"Other magical objects appear to have been restored to full capacity," Archie chimes in, with a look at the Blue Fairy (she, too, appears as though she's about to lose her patience). "There's no reason to assume that the wands won't work. If we can get them back, that is."
Emma can understand Michael's point, but then, the council does have a few magic items in their possession and testing them was one of their top priorities after the curse was broken.
It was that fact alone that Jefferson came to be counted among them. He is easily the quietest person on the council (aside from herself). She gets the sense that, like she, he feels out of place among the group, though for entirely different reasons. No one in the council really cares for him much. Mary Margaret told David about what Jefferson had done to her and Emma the night she made her ill-fated escape from jail. Then he in turn told everyone else, and from that moment on Jefferson became a pariah amongst martyrs.
Emma, herself, had drawn her gun on him the night he suddenly appeared on her doorstep asking for amnesty and protection from the council, though she quickly put it away when she saw he had his daughter with him. It was that fact more than anything that calmed and reminded her that this was just another person driven to madness by Regina's curse. She apologized for not believing him, and he apologized for kidnapping, drugging, and threatening her at gunpoint (even he admitted he had more to beg forgiveness for). Since then they had a shaky understanding of one another.
Loathe as she is to admit it, Emma actually feels a kindred soul within him. He came to her out of fear for the safety of his daughter. He admitted to an ugly history with Regina, and considering the woman's habit of targeting those of her enemies with children, Emma felt it was irresponsible to turn him away. He earned his seat through his possession of the magic hat. He, of course, refused to use it (and after rereading his story in Henry's book, Emma can't really fault him for that), but the fact that he alone can work it was enough for the Blue Fairy to convince Mary Margaret and David to give Jefferson a seat.
Though, four meetings later and he still has yet to contribute any useful ideas or voice an opinion on anything. Mary Margaret was quick to say that behavior is suspicious, but Emma disagrees. The man knows he's hated by nearly everyone in the room and he's not eager to paint an unnecessary target on his back by speaking up when he's not wanted in the first place.
Emma actually knows that feeling well. Not everyone on the council is elated with her either, as it happens. She remembers, with a stab of guilt, the first time she spoke to Marco after the curse broke. He had come to her asking after August. He must have realized that the man who volunteered to work in his shop was, in fact, the son he sent away with the newborn princess in the wardrobe.
It was one of the more difficult things Emma has ever had to do in her life, explaining to Marco that his son is now laying in a bed Granny's, composed completely of wood and showing no signs of life whatsoever. And for no other reason that Emma had so desperate not to believe the truth.
Or at least, that's how Marco sees it. No matter how many times her parents warned him to lay off her, or Archie reminded him that August's own selfish behavior contributed to his condition, or Emma herself apologized and swore to put things right, Marco blames her for his son's petrification. Archie, for his part, is more understanding, at least, though Emma can tell that he, too, is hurting for August.
"I don't care if it's a good idea or not!" Michael's voice is echoing off the classroom walls, making everyone in the room wince slightly, and rousing Emma once more from her reflections. "These are my children we're talking about, not some stupid selfish request! Why shouldn't I give up anything for them?"
"The fairies have healed most of the damage," Mary Margaret replies gently, sparing half a glance to the only fairy in the room for confirmation, "the rest of their injuries will heal naturally over time, with the aid of modern medicine. There's no need to -"
"No need?" Michael repeats, incredulous. "Need I remind you, they are staying at the hospital where Regina's damn lapdog works? Anything can happen to them there! And he won't let me take them home until he's 'satisfied they have made a full recovery.' He could keep them there for months, on Regina's say so! We need a better solution than the fairy's shit-for-magic!"
Emma has to agree with him on that point. She, herself had gone to the Blue Fairy straight away after that first confrontation with the woodcarver. If anyone could fix August, it was the one who turned him into a real boy in the first place, right? It was the first time Emma had properly met the woman who, in Storybrooke, had been the Mother Superior, and, she must admit, she still isn't that impressed. For someone who was once the most powerful creature in the enchanted forest (according to her parents, anyway), Emma finds the fairy to be pretentious, self-righteous, and completely useless for Emma's purpose without her wand. Not that that fact stopped her from going on a tirade about Marco's decision to put August in the wardrobe, instead of giving his spot to Mary Margaret, or how August's own selfishness is the cause for his current condition.
Needless to say, if it weren't for Mary Margaret being there to calm her down, Emma is certain she would have slapped the bitch. And this is the woman the council looks to for magical guidance and protection.
"Otto, are you familiar with my father?" Kathryn suddenly asks, and the room quietens to let her speak. Emma, herself, doesn't actually know much about Kathryn's old life. She knows her name is actually Abigail and she's married to some guy named Frederick (not names Emma recognizes from any fairy tale she knows), but beyond that the woman is a mystery. In spite of herself, she leans forward slightly, paying more attention than she had the entire meeting.
"Of course," Michael replies, frowning. "All poor folk talk of his gift and wish it was theirs."
"Well, you wouldn't if you knew all the details," Kathryn says with a scowl. "My father was a poor man, too, once. A farmer who's crops always failed. I was just a baby when my elder brother died of a sickness that was curable, if only my family had the means to pay for a healer." The man sitting next to her, Frederick, puts his arm around his wife as she continues to tell her tale. "After that my father went to Rumpelstiltskin, looking for a spell that would make us rich, so we would never hunger or want for anything ever again." The woman's look darkens slightly. "You know what they say about good intentions. The imp granted my father's wish, of course, but at a price."
"He can turn anything he wants into gold," Michael cuts in, grumbling, and its at that moment that Emma realizes the character to which they are referring. "He could pay any price asked of him."
But Kathryn shakes her head. "Rumpelstiltskin asked for nothing in return. The price my father paid was nothing material and was of value to no one. But, dark magic takes something from you when it's used, something you don't realize you'll miss until it's gone. In my father's case, the curse robbed him of knowing the sensation of touch ever again. He couldn't hold me with his bare skin. He couldn't embrace or kiss my mother. In the end it drove her away. He tried to fill the hole left within him with gold and jewels. He bought himself a whole kingdom, complete with servants and subjects, but ultimately he died alone and heartsick. His last request was to hold my hand with his naked flesh while he passed away. I had to deny him."
A tense moment of silence overcomes the room while Kathryn composes herself. When she speaks again her voice is a little more hoarse than when she started. "So, you can ask Rumpelstiltskin to heal your children, even though they will recover on their own with time. But, will it really be worth it if he takes away your ability to hold them, or look on them, or love them?"
No one feels much like talking after that. Michael agrees to wait for a while to see how the twins' conditions progress before making any rash decisions regarding Mr. Gold. The meeting breaks up and Emma is among the first to hurry for the door. She's not sure if it's Kathryn's story getting to her or not, but she's eager to get back to Henry.
She's halfway down the hall on her way outside when someone with a considerably longer stride suddenly comes to her side.
"Looks like you had the same idea I did, Princess."
Emma doesn't have to look up to know it's Jefferson. She wants to protest the notion that he could possibly know what she's thinking, but annoyingly enough, he probably does. So, instead, she fixes him with an irritated look. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that."
"You have?" Jefferson says with a mock surprised expression. "It must have slipped my mind." He grins at her when she rolls her eyes, but thankfully he quickly changes the subject. "How's Henry taking all this? I know he is friends with the twins."
"So is Grace," Emma reminds him before heaving a sigh. "He's pretty upset. I think he sorta blames himself, in a weird way. Like, he thinks anything Regina does is his fault, his... responsibility. Is that normal?" The question slips out before she can stop it, and she hates that she sounds so unsure of herself, so vulnerable.
"Regina raised him for ten years," Jefferson replies heavily. "That's plenty of time to get in his head, confuse his emotions, and mess him up for who knows how long. Besides," he adds darkly, looking more like the man who once kidnapped her than h ever had since getting Grace back, "she's going out of her way to make everyone know she's doing this all for him. It's like she hopes to guilt him into voluntarily coming back to her, or that you'll decide he's not worth it and give him up. But all she's doing is proving she has no right to him whatsoever."
Emma doesn't really need to be reassured in that regard, but she's grateful nonetheless. They don't speak anymore as they come out to the playground. Nova is sitting alone on the steps, her eyes glued to the jungle gym under which Henry and Grace are sitting, apparently deep in conversation. "Kids!" She calls out as Emma and Jefferson join her. "Time to go!"
It is with a certain hesitation that the two pry themselves apart and start making their way towards their parents. Despite her history with the Hatter, that Henry is now able to have a close friend in his daughter, Emma is glad for his presence on the council.
"So, what happened?" Henry asks the moment he is within earshot. "Are you gonna talk to Rumpelstiltskin?"
"I'll tell you all about it on the way home, kid," Emma replies, ruffling her son's brown hair affectionately. In doing so, she is reminded of Kathryn's story and is suddenly much more appreciative for such a small yet intimate gesture.
"You know, you really shouldn't tell him about the meetings," Jefferson says with a frown, his own arm wrapped around his girl's shoulders. "Some of that stuff is just not meant for children to hear."
"I know that," Emma responds, resentful that he thinks she's not aware of that fact. "But Henry's the reason I'm here, he deserves to know at least some of what's going on." Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her son smile up at her. "And besides," she adds in a more casual tone to clear the air, "what's the worst that can happen anyway?"