Author's note: As always, a HUGE thanks to all who have reviewed, favorite, etc.! I appreciate each and every review, and it's incredibly helpful when people let me know what they liked/didn't like. I welcome all comments, criticisms, and suggestions, so please let me know what you think! Anyway, I know I've been kind of ignoring Henry/James so I tried to include them a bit more in this chapter :)
Emma spent a fitful night in the hospital chair, finally giving up when the first rays of light began peeking through the blinds. Between the uncomfortable chair and the persistent nightmares, what little sleep she'd gotten had not been refreshing. She massaged her arm, trying to rid it of the "pins and needles" feeling, wryly reflecting that it had probably gotten more sleep than she had.
She gazed at Henry, still slumbering peacefully, and was once again struck by how close she'd come to losing him. Reaching out, she squeezed his hand, being careful not to accidentally wake him. She heard a quiet knock at the door, and looked up to see one of the dwarves – based on the huge smile on his face, she'd guess it was Happy – standing in the doorway, a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.
"Good morning, Princess," he said, crossing the room and offering the beverage to Emma, who gratefully accepted it.
"Please, just call me Emma," she requested, wrinkling her nose at the greeting. While she'd started to come to terms with the fact that she was surrounded by storybook characters, she was still having trouble accepting that she was a fairytale princess. The dwarf nodded, a pleasant smile still illuminating his face. Emma couldn't help but return the grin, and felt herself begin to cheer up slightly – no wonder they called this guy Happy!
"I'll be spending the day with my son, so you and the other dwarves can have the day off," she explained.
"Prince James has asked that we watch over the boy, so we'll continue to do our duty. But I'll let my fellow dwarves know, and we'll serve our shifts in the waiting room. If you should need to leave at any time, you'll know where to find us."
He bowed slightly, causing Emma to squirm uncomfortably, and then left the room. Emma blew on the beverage in her hand before taking a large swig. It tasted terrible, but she was desperate for caffeine. She sighed; the slight feeling of cheer she'd experienced in Happy's presence had begun to fade, and her gloomy mood was quickly returning. She considered going home for a nap, not wanting to be cranky when Henry awoke, but she didn't want to miss out on any time with her son, and she certainly wasn't ready to deal with Snow and James yet.
As she sipped her coffee, she tried to figure out what she'd say when she returned home. How could she begin to explain why she'd run away yesterday, and, more importantly, how could she avoid another deep mother-daughter conversation with Snow? She could feel how close she was to opening up to the woman, how much she wanted to trust her, and, frankly, that level of vulnerability scared the hell out of Emma. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered the look of hurt and confusion on the brunette's face when she'd fled yesterday, and she blinked furiously, trying to keep them at bay. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this much, and she hated how weak it made her feel.
The sound of Henry stirring shook her from her thoughts. "Hey, kid," she said, walking over to greet him with a kiss. The sight of his sleepy face and innocent grin lifted Emma's spirits, temporarily distracting her from her problems and making her glad that she had decided to stay.
For the first time in her life, Emma spent the entire day with her son, talking, playing card games, and watching tv. She left only long enough to fetch them both lunch from Granny's, knowing that Henry must be growing tired of hospital food. After lunch, she'd insisted that he take a nap, and, despite his protests that he wasn't tired, the boy had slept most of the afternoon. Emma tried to take advantage of that time to take a nap of her own, but could not quiet the thoughts in her head long enough to fall asleep. After dinner, Henry attempted to teach Emma how to play his favorite video game, laughing each time she clumsily pressed the wrong button. The time passed rapidly, and soon it grew dark.
Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw that Emma was once again checking her phone. Although he could tell that she was trying to be discreet, he'd noticed that throughout the day, she would periodically pull the device from her pocket and scan the screen, before shoving it back into her jacket with a sigh.
"Are you expecting a call?" he asked, startling Emma.
"Oh, uh, I just wanted to make sure no one needs me," she lied. "Even though the curse has been broken, I'm still technically sheriff." In truth, she'd been checking for messages from Snow, and was surprised to find that her phone had remained silent the entire day. The brunette had promised to give her space, but Emma had not truly believed that she would. For the most part she was relieved to have a day off from the woman, but a small part of her was disappointed. It was almost as though a text or call from Snow would be proof that she cared, and that this "loving mother" routine was not just an act; that Snow was not like so many others in the past that had pretended to care about her, only to let her down. She knew she was being ridiculous, but before she could fully untangle her complex emotions, Henry once again picked up his line of questioning.
"I'm really glad you're here, but don't you think you should be heading home soon? It's getting pretty late, and Grandma and Grandpa might start to worry."
"It's not that late, and besides, I want to spend as much time as I can with you," Emma answered, hoping he would let the subject drop.
"So you're not stalling?" he asked.
"No," Emma said huffily, slightly embarrassed that the boy had picked up on her reluctance to go home. She had briefly considered putting it off again and staying another night with Henry, but she knew her only chance of getting a decent night's sleep was to return to her own bed.
"How are things going with your parents?" he inquired. He had picked up on the fact that something might be wrong when neither of his grandparents had come to visit him that day.
"I so do not want to talk about this, kid. How about another game of cards?" Emma suggested, trying desperately to divert the boy's attention elsewhere.
"But, you and Grandma seemed to be getting along yesterday. What happened?" he asked, a distinct hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Look, I know how much you want everything to just magically be ok, but I've spent the past twenty-eight years of my life believing that I was abandoned on the side of a highway. Overnight I've gone from essentially being an orphan to having parents, and I don't know how to deal with that. And, whether they wanted me or not, the fact still remains that they put me in that wardrobe alone, even though they had no idea where I'd end up." Emma could feel herself getting emotional, and she tried desperately to rein it in. "The bottom line is, they gave me up, and I can't just pretend that never happened."
"You gave me up, but I forgave you." Henry said matter-of-factly. His tone held no hint of accusation; he said it as if he were stating a well-known fact, such as that the sky is blue. "Why can't you just do the same for them?"
"Because it's not the same, Henry!" she snapped, immediately regretting it when she saw a look of hurt register on his face. She was angry – not at Henry, but at herself, because she knew he was right. Yes, there were obvious differences between the two situations– such as the fact that she was practically the same age as her parents – but ultimately, both situations could be boiled down to an issue of forgiveness – something Emma was unsure she could find within herself.
"I'm sorry, kid, I'm just tired. Maybe you're right – I should head home soon." She wearily rubbed her hand over her face and pasted on a smile for Henry's sake, which he eventually returned with a timid grin of his own. They chatted a while longer, carefully steering clear of any sensitive topics, until Emma was sure her harsh outburst was forgotten. Noticing that Henry's sentences were frequently interrupted by yawns, Emma insisted that he go to bed, and stood to tuck him in. She sat by his side, watching as he slowly slipped under, and, after fetching Sneezy from the waiting room, she finally left the hospital.
Snow glanced at the clock, anxiously noting how late it was. She'd spent the day cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, cooking nearly everything in the cabinets – anything to keep her mind off Emma. She'd lost track of the number of times she'd thought she heard the sound of footsteps outside the apartment door and rushed to greet her daughter, only to find that she'd once again imagined it. She desperately wanted to go to the hospital to check on Emma, but she knew that doing so would only push the woman further away.
James watched as his wife checked the phone for the millionth time, hoping to see a text or a call from their daughter. The strain between the two women was beginning to take a toll on him. While he'd done his best to remain strong on the outside, on the inside he was a wreck.
When he'd first laid eyes on Emma in the hospital, he'd been consumed by the thought of holding her once again, as he had so many years ago, and his head swam with all the things he wanted to say to her. He'd never imagined that she would flee from his embrace, or that two days would pass without him having said so much as a word to her. Snow had since filled him in on Emma's miserable childhood, a revelation that had been incredibly painful, but had helped him to understand his daughter's distant behavior. He was jealous of all the time Snow had been able to spend with Emma before the curse was lifted; even though Snow had been unaware of her true identity, she'd still had a chance to bond with the woman, to get to know her and gain her trust. He knew what a hard time Emma was having accepting the fact that Snow was her mother; how much harder would it be for her to accept a man she barely knew as her father? And even though Snow had assured him that he was not the reason Emma had fled last night, he couldn't help but feel hurt that she hadn't spent more than five minutes in a room with him yet.
"Are you still hungry?" Snow asked, stirring him from his thoughts. "I think I have enough eggs left to make a cake." James felt slightly sick at the thought of cake; he'd done nothing but eat all day, as Snow seemed determined to try out every recipe she knew. He reached across the kitchen counter and gently placed a restraining hand on hers. He was worried about his daughter, but right now, he needed to help his wife. Swallowing his emotions, he once again put on a brave face.
"Maybe we should just go to bed," he suggested quietly, crossing the room and switching off the kitchen light. "Baked goods won't bring her home any sooner." After a moment, Snow nodded in assent, and reluctantly turned to follow him. They had just reached the entrance to the bedroom, when the sound of a key turning in the door caused them both to pause.
Emma gently turned the knob and pushed the door open as quietly as she could. It was late, and she had her fingers crossed that James and Snow would already be in bed. She had a splitting headache, which she suspected was the result of a severe lack of sleep. She crept into the dark room, nearly jumping out of her skin when the kitchen light suddenly snapped on. Standing just inside the doorway, she eyed her bedroom door longingly. She considered making a run for it, but she was feeling entirely too tired to run anywhere. Resignedly, she turned and faced her parents.
"Emma," Snow sighed, the relief in her voice palpable. She crossed the room quickly, and barely managed to stop herself from embracing her daughter. As she took in the blonde's bedraggled appearance, her relief was quickly replaced by worry. "Emma, you don't look so good. Do you feel alright?" James crossed quickly to his wife's side, alarmed by the prospect that his daughter might be ill.
"I'm fine," Emma shrugged sullenly, her voice low. As she noted the looks of concern on their faces, she felt an inexplicable surge of anger well up within her. Snow reached out and placed a hand on the younger woman's forehead to check for fever. It was an innocent gesture, but something inside Emma snapped; the emotions that had been building up finally spilled out of her. "I said I'm fine!" she exclaimed, ignoring the surge of guilt she felt as the brunette yanked away her hand, a look of hurt flashing across her face.
Snow, surprised by Emma's sudden outburst, hesitantly tried to remind her daughter of their agreement to take things slow, "Baby st –"
"To hell with baby steps!" Emma cut her off. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer the baby you sent away; I'm a grown woman. It's great that you've conveniently remembered that you're a mother all of the sudden, but I've gone this long without a mom, and I certainly don't need one now!"
Snow took a step back, feeling as though she'd been slapped.
"Emma!" James said, almost sternly, shocked by the words coming from her mouth and concerned over the distress they were causing Snow.
"No," Snow said, placing a calming hand on his chest, "it's alright." Locking eyes with her daughter, she continued, "It's alright, Emma. Say what you're thinking. Yell at me; get it all off your chest." Emma's words stung, but she was aware that, for the first time, her daughter was expressing her true feelings and letting down her defenses. She could almost see Emma's walls crumbling as the blonde finally opened up.
"While you two were living here in Storybrooke, blissfully unaware, I spent twenty-eight years feeling miserable and unloved, scared to let anyone get too close, because my parents – the two people I should've been able to trust implicitly – abandoned me," Emma continued, taking a sick pleasure in the looks of pain that crossed their faces. "You claim you put me in that wardrobe to protect me, but the truth is, you were protecting yourselves. You had no idea where you were sending me; you just left me to fend for myself, in the hopes that one day I'd figure out how to save you. That seems pretty selfish to me!" She could see the tears in both of their eyes, but she found that she was unable to stop. "I'm tired of feeling as though I'm somehow letting everyone down. I'm tired of disappointing Henry. I'm tired of feeling guilty for hurting you, when you're the ones who hurt me! I'm just….tired!"
Finally, her energy spent, she crossed the room and collapsed on the couch, drawing her body into a ball and sobbing freely. Snow raced to her daughter's side and threw her arms around her. Emma struggled, attempting to shake off the embrace, but found that she could not loosen Snow's iron grip. She finally succumbed, allowing the older woman to pull her gently to her side and rock her as she cried.
Snow clung tightly to her sobbing daughter, running a hand soothingly through her long, blonde locks. She felt a thrill run through her at finally being allowed to hold her beautiful daughter, but the feeling of joy was diminished by the crushing knowledge that she was the cause of her child's grief.
James stood silently for a moment, before finally crossing the room to sit on the floor at the foot of the small couch. Hesitantly, he placed a comforting hand on Emma's leg. He knew she would not be comfortable with too much physical contact, but he wanted to make it clear that he was there for her when she was ready.
Soon, Emma found that her tears had stopped flowing and she felt merely drained; two nights of little to no sleep had finally caught up with her. Snow noticed that her daughter's sobs had quieted and that she was now having trouble keeping her eyes open.
"Emma," she whispered quietly, "Why don't you go to bed? It's been a long couple of days." Emma nodded and tried to stand, but found that in her exhausted state, her legs had become very unsteady. James and Snow were immediately by her side, each wrapping a supportive arm around her.
"You can sleep with me tonight; it will be easier than trying to help you climb all those stairs," Snow murmured, steering her toward the downstairs bedroom.
"But, what about James?" Emma slurred sleepily.
"Shhh, I'll be fine. I'll sleep in your room. You just get some rest." James held onto Emma as Snow pulled the cover back on the bed, and helped her lay down. He then gently removed each of her boots while Snow helped her sit up enough to remove her jacket. Somewhere deep down, Emma was aware that she was uncomfortable with all the attention they were giving her, but she was far too exhausted to act on those feelings at the moment. Snow climbed into bed next to her daughter and pulled the cover over both of them.
"I'm…sorry," Emma said, making one last effort to fight off sleep. She felt a vague sense of shame about her earlier outburst, but already sleep was pulling her under, making it difficult to put her thoughts into words.
"Shhh, there's nothing to apologize for," Snow said comfortingly, gently brushing a stray curl off Emma's face. "Sleep now." Moments later, Emma's breathing became steady and even, as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.
Snow leaned over and carefully placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead, knowing the blonde would never accept such an intimate gesture were she awake. James carefully perched on the edge of the bed next to his wife, lovingly taking her hand in his. The two of them sat in silence as they watched their daughter's peaceful slumber. The last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster, but Snow felt that perhaps they were finally making progress.
Alright, that was another slightly angsty chapter, but I do think that Emma may have finally reached a bit of a turning point with her parents. I'm not saying everything will automatically be perfect between them, but I'm going to try to make the next chapter a bit lighter. Although…I'm really not sure where I'm going to take the next chapter, so no promises!