Author's Note: Just because I feel like I haven't said it in a while: you guys are awesome. :)


In yet another turn of events that provided no surprise whatsoever, Henry did indeed want to tag along on the father/daughter sword-fighting lesson. When Emma had woken him a minute or so from Granny's and filled him in on the plans for the afternoon, he'd said, "Are you kidding? I'm totally going with you. You're going to be playing with swords!"

After everyone had choked back laughter, David had gently reminded Henry that they would not be playing with swords and that real swords were not toys. "I know," Henry assured him with a nod, "but watching you guys practice is still going to be really fun."

Lunch at Granny's consisted of grilled cheese sandwiches for Henry and Emma, a turkey sandwich for Snow, a chicken salad sandwich for David, and French fries for everyone. Granny had smiled at Henry's enthusiasm over the sword lessons and had offered to give Emma pointers if she ever wanted to learn how to use a crossbow. Smiling, Emma had told her she'd keep that in mind.

After lunch, the family headed back to the apartment to prepare for the next stage of their day. Henry wanted to grab his wooden swords, while Snow wanted to pack a tote with snacks and bottles of water since it appeared they were going to be out for a while. With his family getting ready, David slipped out to acquire a second sword for his daughter.

Emma wanted to follow him, just to see where the hell he was getting her a second sword, but Snow held her back. From the look on her mother's face, she gathered that wherever her father was going, it was something he needed to do alone.

He returned fifteen minutes later with a sheathed sword. Emma, who'd offered to wait upstairs for him while Snow and Henry went down to the car, held a breath as he handed it over to her. The heft of it surprised her a little. She unsheathed the sword and examined the blade for a long moment.

"For your first lesson," David said softly as he took the sword from her hand, "I'm going to show you proper grip. Your dominant hand goes here, right under the guard. Your non-dominant hand goes below, right above the pommel."

She took it back from him and tried to put her hands where his had been. "Like this?"

"Almost." He reached out to fix her grip but stopped and looked up at her instead, trying to determine if she would welcome his touch. She gave him a little nod and he rested her hands on his, shifting them on the hilt so they were where they should be. "Like that."

He let go, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, and she instantly missed the feeling of her father's hands on hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she lowered the weapon. Before she could get too wrapped up in the moment, though, she suddenly realized where he had procured this sword. "All right, what do you owe Gold?"

"What makes you think I got it from him?" he asked, noncommittal.

"There's no forge here," she said, the "duh" implied. "Swords don't just magically appear." At that, she paused, a little frown on her face. "Well, you can't make a sword just magically appear. Since this is most definitely a real weapon and not a prop of some kind, Gold's your only option. What was his price for this?"

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged as he began to turn away.

Oh, no, he wasn't getting off that easily. Emma reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him to a stop. "No. What do you owe him?"

David met her eyes with a sad smile. "I don't owe him anything. I simply made him understand that he, in point of fact, owed me. It was his curse that took you away from us. Though a sword is not nearly enough restitution for the time we missed with you, I managed to talk him into it. That, and this."

He pulled a wad of tissue paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it over to her. She frowned and when she almost hesitantly took it from him, she realized there was something in the wad. She set the sword down on the kitchen table and unwrapped the paper to find a delicate glass unicorn staring up at her.

She didn't understand, not until David spoke up, his voice soft and choked with emotion. "It was part of the mobile we had over your crib. You're a little old for the whole mobile now, but I thought ..."

"I love it," Emma said, meeting her father's eyes and giving him a watery smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, smiling back at her. Then, to Emma's immense relief, he cleared his throat in an effort to shake off his emotions. "All right, now that we've got equipment and the first lesson is out of the way, where are the tag-alongs?"

"Downstairs," Emma answered, chuckling in equal parts amusement and relief, "packing the car."

David raised his eyebrows. "What needs to be packed?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. They said to come down when we were ready. I'm just going to go put this upstairs," she said, holding up the unicorn, "and then I think I'll be good to go."

"You want me to wait for you?"

"No, you don't have to," she smiled. She could tell he wanted to wait for her, most likely just to make sure that she was okay, but she needed a moment alone.

"All right, I'll meet you down there." David grabbed both her sword and his on the way to the door.

Emma smiled after him but as soon as the door clicked shut, she let out a heavy breath. The glass unicorn in her hand, yet another symbol of her parents' love for her and all the things she should have had, was almost too much.

Oh, who the hell was she kidding? It was too much, and it took a few moments of steady, deliberate breathing to keep from losing control. Her meltdown this morning was more than enough for one day, thanks very much.

She climbed the stairs to the loft, set the unicorn on the dresser, and just stared at it for a long moment, trying not to think about all the what-ifs and the maybes. The sunshine streaming in through the window caught the unicorn in just the right way to send little arcs of colored light around the room. A tiny smile tugged at Emma's lips.

Almost at once, she realized that she was smiling at rainbows coming from a glass unicorn. Seriously? she thought, shaking her head at herself. Giving a little sigh, she headed back downstairs, locked the apartment door behind herself, and headed down to her waiting family.

"So," she said as she climbed into the car – back seat yet again – and buckled her seat belt, "where do we go to practice sword fighting?"

"The same place we go to practice shooting arrows," David said, giving her a teasing smirk over his shoulder.

"The soccer fields?" she whined, wrinkling her nose and making Snow and Henry giggle.

"No," David chuckled. "The woods."

"Of course," Emma sighed. "It's always the woods."

"The woods can teach you all kinds of things if you let them," Snow said, grinning up at her pretending-to-be-cranky daughter in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah, yeah," Emma grumbled, hiding a smile of her own.

Snow put the car into gear and took off for the woods. For a while, everyone was silent. Eventually, Henry turned to Emma, a little concerned frown knotting his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Emma assured him, even though her head was swimming. The past few hours had been a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences and spending time with her family. It was not at all what she was used to, and part of her was intensely uncomfortable with it. A larger part of her, though, recognized that this was something she'd wanted her entire life. She'd wanted her parents to teach her things and spend time with her and just … be a family.

And she shouldn't have had to wait twenty-nine years to be able to do it.

Still, when Henry smiled at her, apparently satisfied with her answer, she smiled back. "When you're having your lessons with Gramps," he whispered conspiratorially, "I'm going to be teaching Gramma some of the things he taught me."

"You are?" Emma asked, once again meeting her mother's gaze in the rear view. Snow winked at her, letting her know that she was pretending to know little to nothing about swords for Henry's benefit, and Emma fought to hide a smile. "So the student is going to teach his teacher, huh?"

"Yep!"

By the time they reached the woods, Henry was so excited he was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. Emma, on the other hand, was so nervous that her hands were shaking. Not that she understood why she was so nervous. It wasn't like she'd never wielded a sword before. Granted, her technique may not have been perfect, but it got the job done, and quite well, if she did say so herself.

Snow parked the car on the shoulder of a different access road than the one they were on earlier that morning. "What was wrong with where we were this morning?" Emma asked as everyone climbed out of the car.

"You're going to want a little more room to move than the shooting spot from this morning would have given you," Snow informed her. "There's a wider clearing somewhere around here, though I don't remember exactly where."

As the family walked headed down the path in search of the clearing, David and Henry walked ahead of Snow and Emma, carrying the swords, both metal and wooden. Emma smiled when she noticed Henry trying to copy the way his grandfather was holding the swords as they walked.

This time, it was Snow who broke the silence between them. "Are you doing all right?"

Emma frowned at her, wondering what made her ask that question. Only then did she realize that she'd been clenching her hands into fists and then releasing them in an effort to quell the trembling. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Snow looked like she wanted to say something more but must have changed her mind. Instead, she looked ahead of her, her eyes settling on her husband. "Do I want to know where he got the second sword?"

"Probably not," Emma replied. From the way Snow nodded, Emma suspected that she knew exactly where he'd gotten it. As such, she felt the need to add, "He didn't do anything stupid to get it, though, so don't worry about it."

"Good," she said through a heavy breath of relief.

Emma turned what she wanted to say next over in her head for a long moment. Would telling her mother about the unicorn just make things more emotionally charged? Probably, but Snow was going to find out anyway the second she walked upstairs, so she might as well tell her now. "He gave me a glass unicorn, too. Said it was part of my baby mobile?"

Snow stopped walking and blinked at her daughter in surprise. "Gold's had your mobile this whole time?"

"Apparently."

"That little imp!"

"That seems to be the go-to description of the guy," Emma smirked.

With that, Snow chuckled and resumed walking. She reached down for her daughter's hand, smiling gently when Emma allowed her to take it. "Well, it may be twenty-nine years too late, but at least you have it – or part of it – now."

Emma felt the telltale tickle of emotion in the back of her throat and swallowed hard. Damn it, she was not going to lose control again. Still, her voice was soft when she replied, "Twenty-nine years too late is better than never."