Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time
Chapter Four: Unnamed Babies, Exhaustive Power Training, and Lengthy Outings
Emma was pacing.
Ursula. The freaking sea witch was her first assignment. Emma had heard all about the watery witch from her mother, who adored lecturing Emma about all of the different ways that superheroes and their super-villain counterparts were to be feared.
Her fear of superheroes and villains had, unfortunately, manifested itself in the presence of the great Shepherd, who had been in hiding for almost as long as Emma had been alive. For some reason, he had seen fit to make an appearance on the very same day that Emma just so happened to have been recruited on. She'd nearly fainted in Blue's office upon seeing him. The masked man had been the subject of many of Emma's nightmares. Her mother had told Emma all about the Shepherd and his powers.
Emma just hoped she would never have to see him again.
Logically, Emma knew what a great person the Shepherd was—she had heard all of the admirable stories from her friends, had heard all about his triumphs, and the triumphs of his partner White Out. All throughout her time in elementary school she had heard their brave stories. But the tales never could reconcile in her mind with the image her mother had painted of the superheroes. And unfortunately, the stories her mother told her were the ones that had taken root.
Graham—the invisible man who'd broken in to Emma's room—was due to be picking Emma up any minute, and Emma was nervous as hell. She was in costume, praying that neither David nor Mary Margaret tried opening the door. She was ready to vomit. It would certainly be difficult to explain why Emma was wearing the decorated outfit.
Oh jeez, Emma groaned. I probably look like an absolute idiot.
She couldn't sit down anywhere—Belle had made herself fairly clear on that account. If Emma tried to sit down on anything, she would invariably ruin both the metal feathers and whatever she tried to sit on. So she was left pacing her room back and forth, hugging her stomach in an attempt to soothe her nerves.
"Emma Mills," a deep voice intoned.
Directly behind her.
Emma gave a start, but kept herself from shrieking.
"Pleasure to meet you," he continued in an effortless voice. "My name is Graham."
Emma whirled around, her blonde hair whipping into the man's face. He was taller and bulkier than she'd imagined, had a five-o'clock shadow of golden brown hair, and curly hair that touched the tops of his ears. His skin was tanned; his eyes were locked on Emma's with a startlingly grave seriousness.
"Hi," Emma responded lamely.
He smiled. Emma blushed.
"Shall we," Graham asked, gesturing with one hand towards Emma's window.
Emma quirked an eyebrow, but followed him onto the fire escape. She took the hand he offered, and waited for something magical to happen. And waited. And waited.
After a few minutes, Emma cleared her throat nervously. "Is something…supposed to happen?" She asked, hesitating. Was something happening that she just didn't realize?
"You should be transporting us to headquarters. That was one of your powers, was it not?" Graham looked down at her with one raised eyebrow.
Emma shook her head, a frown settling on her face. "No?"
Graham frowned as well. But then he shrugged. "Well, it looks like we're walking."
"Won't someone see us…?" Emma trailed off when Graham suddenly disappeared before her eyes—as did her own body. "Well, that settles that," she sighed, following the tug of Graham's hand.
Killian was pacing.
Was it better to lie? Should he do exactly as the Evil Queen wanted, play right into her manicured claws like a good little marionette? And, in the process, betray his best mate, the person who had not only helped him see the light, but had assisted him in staying on the path of light?
Or was it better to risk David and Mary Margaret's safety—and potentially Emma's—so that they could finally reunite with their long-lost daughter?
They're already, technically, reunited with the lass, Killian tried to reason with himself. Their family is now complete. Even if they don't know it, they're together. Isn't that what they've wanted anyways?
It was a flimsy argument, and Killian knew it. But he just couldn't, he wouldn't, he refused to put his friends in danger like that. He would…he would just have to stay away from them, pretend to keep up his search for Dave, and hope that the truth didn't come to light until he could figure out what to do about the Evil Queen. He needed some leverage, something that would keep the Evil Queen off of the Shepherd and White Out's scent, without threatening the lives of David and Mary Margaret.
Yes, that's what he would do. He would find something—without the use of his powers, of course—that would incriminate Regina. He wasn't the best investigative reporter in Boston for nothing, after all.
With a relieved smile, Killian sat down at his desk and emailed David that the eastern seaboard Emma's hadn't panned out, and he would have to start looking further west. With that finished, he left his office—it was nearly lunchtime, he might as well get an early start on his break.
While strolling down the sidewalk, Killian abruptly bumped into something. He cursed, feeling a cut open up on his leg. Glancing down, he was shocked to see that his leather pants—which were fairly thick, and hard to cut through—were shredded in several different areas along his thigh. Underneath, there were several shallow cuts, all bleeding.
"Sorry!" A high female voice exclaimed. Killian whirled around, but for the life of him he couldn't spot what—or who—he had run into.
Shrugging it off, Killian continued on his way with a frown.
David was pacing.
He'd just received an email from Killian letting him know that the Emma Mills profiles had not panned out, and he would have to spread his search further west. It didn't make sense. David knew that Emma was his daughter; he could feel it in his bones. All the doubt—what little there had been—had fled his mind the night before at dinner.
They were all seated in the living room as usual. Emma was curled up in the lazy boy, balancing her salad bowl on her thigh, her plate of homemade pizza on the arm of the chair, her glass of pop squished between her calf and the back of her thigh. Mary Margaret and David were seated together on the couch. David was seated closest to the arm of the couch, his salad almost non-existent next to the large slice of pizza he had. Mary Margaret was pressed against his side, her larger salad making up for David's lack thereof. She was sitting in the same position as Emma—her legs were curled to her side, and she was using them as a cup-holder.
"Twenty bucks says she falls in love with the pirate by the end of the movie," Emma wagered, gesturing to the waiflike female on the screen with her free hand.
"You don't have any money to bet." David shook his head.
"That's how sure I am." Emma laughed, nearly spilling her salad.
"There is no way the princess is going to fall in love with the pirate," Mary Margaret argued good-naturedly, sounding appalled at the very idea. "She's hardly spared him a glance, and anyways, she's already betrothed to the prince."
"Betrothals can be broken," Emma reasoned. "And she doesn't need to spare him a glance—look at the chemistry they have!" But Mary Margaret was shaking her head.
Through a mouthful of pizza, David offered "Okay, if she falls in love with him, we'll do the dishes tonight. But if she stays with the prince, you do the dishes for the week."
"That's hardly a fair bet." Emma thought for a moment. "If I win, I also get the last slice of cheesecake that's in the fridge."
"Deal," David quickly agreed. It was a great deal; Mary Margaret was making more cheesecake the next day, anyways. And knowing Mary Margaret, the new pie would be even better than the last.
They all settled down again, finished their meals while eagerly awaiting the end of the movie. Emma's smile steadily grew brighter, as the princess and the pirate shared smiles, stories, and laughter. David's smile grew as well—he didn't care about the bet, he was just glad that he could put that smile on her face. He was doing it by losing, but it didn't seem to matter to him. He looked down at Mary Margaret, snuggled happily against his side.
This is my family, he thought, suddenly so very, very sure.
When he lost, and the princess and the pirate confessed their undying love, David couldn't find it within himself to feel the loss.
After that, there was no doubt left in his mind. Emma was theirs. It was in the easy banter, the similarities Emma shared with both David and Mary Margaret that had him convinced. Her eyes, her ears, her smile, her hair—it was all familiar; it all reminded him of himself, of Mary Margaret. Her laughter gave him pride, her tears made his heart break. He worried for her more than he would a normal roommate, and he knew that Mary Margaret did too. It was, frankly, ridiculous that it had taken him so long to finally come to the full realization.
But he couldn't mention anything about it, and it frustrated the hell out of him. If only he could tell Mary Margaret—they didn't even have to let Emma know until they were sure, but it felt like such a betrayal to keep Mary Margaret out of the loop. It didn't just feel like a betrayal—it was a betrayal, and it was tearing David up inside. But he didn't know what would be worse; telling her the great news and never finding the proof, or not telling her until he found proof, and knowing that he was living with this lie.
Mary Margaret would want to know, he reasoned. Emma was her daughter, too—Mary Margaret had a right to know.
Firm in his decision, David turned, and headed into the kitchen where Mary Margaret was working on a cheesecake.
She was not in the kitchen.
Frowning, David called out her name.
"I'm in the bathroom," Mary Margaret called back, her voice shaky. She didn't sound normal—David rushed to the bathroom, to find Mary Margaret leaning against the counter. There was a thin white plastic stick in her hands—David recognized it to be a pregnancy test.
Mary Margaret was looking at him. A thousand different emotions were flitting across her face.
David felt like he was balancing on the edge of a cliff, and a few words from Mary Margaret would send him toppling over the edge. Slowly, Mary Margaret turned the pregnancy test around, so David could see the results—
It was positive.
David let out a breath, and took Mary Margaret into his arms. He could feel her shudder against him, and he pulled her closer. Her heart was beating against his chest, a reassuring pulse. They stood that way for how long, David didn't know. Both were wrapped up in their emotions—David couldn't tell what he was feeling, but there was definitely a mix of trepidation and happiness. But now…would now be the time to tell her what he thought—to tell her what he knew? David took a deep breath, pulling away just enough so that he could look her in the eye.
And… she looked so happy, elated even. Her cheeks were glowing; her eyes were wide and hopeful. David felt his heart beat stronger just looking at her and her excitement. He felt his lips lifting into a smile in response.
"I'm pregnant," Mary Margaret whispered, resting her forehead on his chest. David exhaled. No, he decided. Now is not the time to tell her.
Emma was certainly being put through her paces.
Once she and Graham had arrived—finally—at the SG headquarters, Emma was ushered to the training room, where Belle was waiting. The other woman had quickly put Emma's hair in a cute wrap-around hairstyle, so there was a braided crown of hair across her forehead, citing that Emma would thank her for it later. Emma had thanked her then and there—growing up, her hair had been pulled far too many times to count.
As soon as that was over, however, Emma started training.
Graham had eased her in gradually, starting with a light jog around the track. The light jog turned into a serious jog, turned into full-out sprinting as if the hounds of hell were chasing her. After an hour of running, sweaty and exhausted, they'd started sparring.
Emma was allowed a ten minute break to regain her strength, and then Graham set about teaching her the proper fighting stances. Since her power wasn't hands on, he didn't go into very much detail, and instead spent most of the time teaching her how to aim. That's when the power training actually started. For someone whose only ability was invisibility, Graham sure knew a lot about aiming with physical powers. By lunchtime, the light was poking at Emma like pin-needles at her extremities. It was ready for recompense.
"Enough!" Emma exclaimed angrily, lifting her hands up in defense as Graham threw another basketball at her face. Her light shield went up for a split second, only barely long enough to block the ball before it dropped pathetically.
She was exhausted, mentally and physically. She could feel that her body was ready to disappear, for the light to take its toll on her, but she wasn't ready god damn it. She had to fight it until she was somewhere safe, somewhere she could collapse and vanish without waking up like she had last time she'd used her powers.
"Wrong; do it again." Graham demanded, and whirled back to his starting position. He didn't have a second power—invisibility was supposed to be his only superpower. But Emma certainly didn't think it was human, the way he practically flew across the training mats. And he had the endurance of a freaking…Olympic runner. Or something else that had a lot of endurance.
"I can't," Emma grit out, pressing her arms against her thighs. Hearing the shink of the metal bending, Emma quickly straightened, slightly guilty, but too tired to care that she may have just ruined the expensive materials.
"You can, and you will. Do you think Ursula is going to give you a break when fighting? Do you think any villain is going to just let you take a little rest?"
"You don't understand," Emma huffed, ready to collapse. She was half-tempted just to strip the skirt off then and there so that she could fall to the ground and rest in peace. "My power—it has consequences, using it. I can't hold it off any longer, I just can't."
Graham eyed her doubtfully. But then his eyes widened—Emma looked down at herself. She was starting to fade. Whirling around, Graham strode purposefully to his backpack. He fished out a water bottle filled with a thick, blue liquid, and tossed it to Emma.
"Drink that," he ordered.
Emma didn't need to be told twice. Without questioning what the liquid was, Emma unscrewed the cap and took a long swig of the drink. It tasted like pomegranates and rotten eggs. Emma grimaced, but took another drink anyways. When she'd downed the whole bottle, she looked at Graham expectantly.
He was frowning, eyeing Emma's still-fading body. "I don't understand—"
Emma never got to hear what Graham didn't understand. Closing her eyes, she fell backwards into the void that was her power-sleep.
"Where do you think she is?" David wondered from his position by the window. He'd been standing vigil since ten o'clock in hopes of seeing the instant Emma entered their building. It was nearing midnight, and Emma still wasn't around. Mary Margaret was worried, too, but she tried to keep a calming persona, so that her husband wouldn't worry as much.
She shrugged. In her most reassuring voice, Mary Margaret said "She's a teenager, David, I'm sure she's at some college party, or hanging out with her friends. Come sit down with me."
David sighed, turning his back on the window. His face was hidden in shadows, but Mary Margaret knew that he was frowning. One hand resting on her stomach, she used the other to pat the seat beside her on the couch. Semi-reluctantly, David strode towards her and took a seat by her side.
"I should go look for her," David mumbled half-heartedly.
"You should go to sleep," Mary Margaret corrected. "We could both use some sleep. Emma's a big girl; she can handle herself."
"Admit it, you're worried too," David answered, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.
Mary Margaret chose not to respond. She was worried, of course she was worried. She felt as close to Emma as she did David, and if anything happened to her…well, Mary Margaret would have a hard time not putting on her suit. If it fit nowadays, anyways. But there was no use worrying when it hadn't even been a full day since she'd left the house. It wasn't uncommon for teenagers to stay out late. Sure, Emma wasn't like most teenagers, but that didn't mean that she had no social life whatsoever.
Instead, she snuggled into David's side, crossing her legs. David wasn't going to budge on the issue, it seemed, so they would both just have to sit up for Emma to come home. Tomorrow was Sunday; there was no harm in staying up late.
"Leopold," Mary Margaret murmured suddenly. "I think we should name him Leopold, after my father."
David shifted. "If he's a girl?"
"He's not," Mary Margaret replied, tilting her head up slightly. She could see David's eyes glittering in the lowlight. She stretched a bit to kiss his scruffy jaw, and then went back to resting her head on his chest. "He's a boy, I can feel it." Just like I could feel that Emma was a girl…
"Well, boy or not, we're not naming our son Leopold," David snorted.
Mary Margaret was instantly on the defense. "What's wrong with Leopold? It's a good name, fit for a king!"
At this, David laughed. Hearing his laugh, Mary Margaret couldn't help but share a smile. Okay, maybe Leopold is a bit ridiculous for baby boys these days. "He'll certainly be treated like a prince," David agreed. "But I think we should wait to find out the gender before trying out names."
Mary Margaret agreed, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Stuck their thoughts, all they could do was wait for Emma to show up.
The bed was uncomfortable beneath her, and cold. Emma turned, hoping to find a more comfortable position—and yelped in pain as one of her hands got caught on something sharp and painful. Sitting up quickly, Emma stuck the offending side of her palm in her mouth, surprised by the warm gush of blood that she was forced to swallow in response.
Whimpering, Emma opened her eyes wide, and tried to gain her bearings.
It wasn't a bed she was lying on; it was the training mat she had collapsed onto when she'd vanished. And it wasn't comfortable. There was a pounding headache starting up behind her eyelids, her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton—and tasted like it too.
"Emma, are you all right?" Belle asked. Her familiar Australian accent soothed Emma's frazzled nerves. "Here, let me bandage that for you. Looks like I'll have to make you some new feathers."
"Sorry," Emma mumbled around her hand.
"I am at fault," another accented voice came from above. Emma looked up to see the invisible man leaning against the nearest wall, a guilty expression lighting his features. His bronze curls looked mussed, and his clothes were sagging against his muscled frame with old sweat. Emma wondered how long she'd been out this time.
Belle was back quickly with some gauze and disinfectant. She made quick work of Emma's hand.
"Thank you," Emma said, smiling gratefully. "What time is it?"
"It's nearly one in the morning. Are you normally…gone…for such a lengthy period of time?" A third voice joined the group. Emma turned around to see Blue practically floating into the training room. Emma glanced around, finally noting that the yellow lights were on in the room, and the windows revealed only inky darkness outside. There was a chill to the air that hadn't been there while Emma was training, and everyone around her looked exhausted. Emma herself felt ready to collapse into sleep again—but she really needed to get home. Heaven only knew how much heat she would get for being out so late from David and Mary Margaret.
"I don't know—this is only the second time I've used them in nine years. I would have expected to be out for longer, I guess, given how much I used my powers—but I guess not." Emma frowned. She'd used her powers over light for longer than an hour at a near constant rate. She really should have been asleep for at least a day, if not longer. I should count myself lucky, Emma thought, even though she was slightly mystified.
"So the power potion did work," Blue responded in a thoughtful tone. "But her powers must use up far more energy than we originally calculated. Graham—have Granny make more of the potion, but have Nova assist her with the recipe. Try to tweak it so that it's more concentrated. Belle, please help Swan change and escort her home safely. Swan, I expect you to be here tomorrow around the same time in plainclothes. You are all dismissed."
After her speech, the short woman turned, her chestnut hair whirling around her as she strode out of the room purposefully. Emma had no clue how such a petite woman could command such power, but she had to respect Blue for that.
Belle ushered Emma out of the training room, her red wedges clapping against the blue and white tiled floor. Emma practically had to jog to keep up, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. She really needed some sleep. And some food. She wouldn't say no to a slice of pizza right now. Or the entire pie.
Belle kept up a constant chatter while they walked, telling Emma about how cool it was that she was doing this, and how she'd almost managed to keep up an energy ball for a full minute before it fizzled out. Belle told Emma about some books that she thought Emma would enjoy and about a new café downtown that they should totally check out, if Emma was free sometime soon.
It was nice, the almost instant camaraderie that Emma felt with Belle. She'd never really had any friends—her mother had seen to that, warning Emma against the evils of other people, and scaring off those who'd dared approach her. But…well, like she said; it was nice. Emma found herself making plans to hang out at the new café, agreeing to check out the books, and before she knew it, she was dressed in some plainclothes that the SG had available for the superheroes, and was nearly at her apartment.
"I can take it from here," Emma said when she was half a block from home. She could imagine that David, or Mary Margaret, or both were waiting up for her, and didn't want the questions that would come along with showing up with a new friend. "Thank you for walking with me. See you Tuesday!"
Belle smiled softly, her cheeks dimpling. "See you Tuesday, Emma."
Emma waited until Belle was out of sight, and then hurried into the building and up the elevator. She was tired in her bones, and definitely not looking forward to answering to David and Mary Margaret. She loved them like family, and she hated having to lie to them.
Maybe they gave up and went to sleep…? Emma hoped idly, sliding her key into the doorknob only to find it was unlocked.
No such luck. Their heads simultaneously snapped towards the door when Emma entered.
Mary Margaret was curled into David, obviously tired. David was sitting stoically, though he had a certain slump to his shoulders as well. Emma felt guilt settle in.
"Sorry!" Emma whispered, closing the door and locking it behind her. Before either could start to question her, Emma hurriedly said "Can we talk in the morning? I'm really exhausted."
"That's fine," Mary Margaret answered before David could. "We are exhausted too. Good night, Emma."
Emma nodded her goodnight, and shuffled into her room, where she promptly collapsed on her bed.
It had been a long day.
Meredith du Lac watched the rippling lake with melancholy eyes. Her heart was heavy; the anniversary of her mother's death was never a happy occasion for her. Sitting by the lake where her she'd been drowned was a special sort of punishment for her…but Meredith couldn't help herself. It had been ten years, yet the hurt had never faded. It didn't help that her death had been entirely Meredith's fault. But she couldn't stop the fact that she was evil…that she was, in fact, Ursula.
"You know, darling," Eleanor spoke, coming to stand behind Meredith. Her accent smoothed over the r, making the word come out as 'dahling.' "Wallowing does nothing. Your efforts would be far more useful in trying to find the killer—and destroying any hero who would have you punished."
"Go away, Cruella." Meredith intoned quietly. "Leave me in peace."
"You, in peace?" Eleanor's voice was tinged with mocking humor. "Hardly. Especially now that I know who they've sent after you this time…"
Meredith stood up and turned, so her face only an inch away from Eleanor's. "What do you know, Cruella?" Her voice was low and threatening. Eleanor smirked.
"They've sent a bird after a fish—the Golden Swan, they're calling her." Eleanor rolled her grey eyes, clearly nonplussed with the nomination. "Do you want help clipping her pretty little wings?"
"If I wanted help, I would ask Mal—not you, dog whisperer." Meredith sneered, turning away from the thin woman. Eleanor sniffed, and tossed her fur wrap over her shoulder.
"Fine," she spat, clearly offended. "If you don't want me help, that's your problem. But don't come crawling back to me, darling, when you find yourself in need of help." And with that, she started stalking off.
"I won't!" Meredith called back amicably. She heard another scoff come from Eleanor's direction, and she heard no more.
Sitting back down, Meredith continued with her lake-watching. Beneath the surface, there was a beautiful world churning with life. Meredith imagined that she looked like the lake; on the surface, she was calm and collected. But underneath, she was stewing. If the Superheroes Guild thought they could take her down with some pathetic new blood, they had another think coming.
No way was this Swan girl going to be taking Ursula anywhere anytime soon.
Author's Note: Hello, and thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
To the guest reviewers: Yes, I am so excited to explore the Charming family relationships further, and to see Emma sort of 'grow' into herself! Snow is not more powerful than David, and David is not more powerful than Snow. It would probably help if you knew all of everyone's powers, but I'm kind of delaying that for dramatic tension reasons, but their powers will be revealed eventually, and I promise that David's powers are epic. He isn't called 'the Shepherd' because he tends to sheep, let me tell you ;)
I am sorry to see that I lost a reader because of this, but I hope that if they decide to come back, they will not be disappointed!
So, Emma's power-sleep will be a recurring thing for a couple of chapters, but I will try and make it so it doesn't get too annoying or damsel-in-distress-y. Let me know if I'm going overboard with it though, please.
Anyways, thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think, and if there is anyone/anything you would like to see in this story! I'm kind of hoping that I will be able to eke out a 100k+ word epic out of this, so we'll see where we can take this! Thank you all for reading; I hope you're having wonderful weeks!
-Ashlee Frame