A/N: Wow guys... I feel terrible. I haven't updated in forever, but school has been total CRAP! School sucks, but that's still no excuse. This chapter isn't very long, and for that I apologize, but it's kinda a filler. I'm trying to get a little bit of a better grip on where everyone is in the show, so I'm trying not to move the characters from the campsite incase that's not what's going to happen in the next episode. But! In this chapter, Mary Margaret and Emma have a little heart to heart, even if Mary Margaret isn't aware of it. You'll see. Anyway! This story is kinda taking a mind of it's own, so I can't really tell you how I'm going to be writing anymore because I'm getting some great ideas that don't follow the T.V. show at all, but I'm gonna see where the story takes me. Hope you enjoy, and, again, sorry for such a short chapter. R&R! Love you!
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT! :/
I jump up, startling Mary Margaret. She rolls over, and I realize I must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Her shift must have ended.
"You okay?" She mumbles. Was I? What was that dream even about? Twins? No… surely I'd remember giving birth to two babies and not just one. Impossible.
"Yeah, I guess." Immediately Mary Margaret shoots up from her lying down position. She looks around with worry in her eyes.
"What's wrong? Is anyone hurt?" When she looks around and sees that we're the only people in the makeshift tent, her next question comes softer. "Did you have another nightmare?" That wasn't a nightmare, was it? No, it was clearly a dream.
"No. It was just a startling dream." If it was a dream, then why do I have this familiar sense of dread, and why am I resisting the urge to flee?
"Do you want to talk about it?" She offers lightly, a friendly smile playing at her lips. I bite my lip, contemplating if I should ask her if it's possible to forget something as important as having two children, not just one.
"Can I ask you something?" My eyes narrow in her direction, trying to see her reaction. I focus on her face as my eyes adjust to the darkness and see it brighten at the thought of helping me understand something.
"Of course!" The higher octave that her voice has taken gives away her attempt at hiding her excitement. Of course she wants to give me answers to any questions I have. She's a typical mother… well, as typical as it gets when the mother is the same age as her daughter and was cursed to not remember who her daughter was. So, maybe not so typical… but she has the same heart as a typical mother.
"You volunteered at the hospital for a while, and I was just wondering if you ever heard any of the doctors talking about memory loss of a pretty big milestone in someone's life?" I look over at her nervously. Her face is blank besides the slight look of concern.
"Do you want to give me an example?" She clearly doesn't understand what I'm trying to ask, so I think of an example I can give her without putting my life into it.
"Well, you forgot that you had me while you were under the spell, but could there be any other explanation if you were never under the curse but you still forgot?" She looks hurt for a second and I feel bad for bringing up that she forgot about me, but that's the only thing I can think of.
"You mean reasons for people forgetting things?" She tries to keep her voice light and the subject off of her forgetting me. I don't hold her forgetting me against her. She was under a curse that made a whole different life for her; you can't hold that against someone. Well, at least, I can't hold that against her. Nobody else has had that happen to them, so I can't speak for their choices, but I choose not to blame Mary Margaret for that.
"Exactly." I sigh, thankful that she knows what I'm trying to say. Her eyes drift to the side while she thinks back to what she learned while working in the hospital as Mary Margaret. Her eyes snap back to mine and brighten. She's remembered something.
"Well, besides magic, it could be a number of things, though the most common are tragic events that your brain blocks out because it doesn't want to remember, long-term memory loss, short-term memory loss, or head trauma. If the memory is splotchy, where you remember some of the details but not all, then it's most likely a tragic memory that your brain shut out of your mind. If you can't remember anything, like a whole section of your life has been cut out, then it's probably a head trauma. The short and long-term memory loss depends more on time than anything. If I wasn't under the curse and I forgot about giving birth to you, I would have had to hit my head really hard or something terrible that I really didn't want to remember would have been what happened, not short or long-term memory loss." She shrugs her shoulders. "Why?" Her eyebrows furrow, and I don't know what to tell her.
"Just wondering." I swallow, trying to keep my voice even. I'm starting to panic. Did Kevin find me and hit me over the head after I had the kids, or did something terrible happen? This is so frustrating!
"Emma." Mary Margaret raises her eyebrow at me and gives me the 'I'm your mother. You better tell me what's wrong' tone. I smile at her innocently, trying to hide my irritation. When her gaze doesn't waver, I lay back down, my back facing her. I can feel her eyes burning into my back, and it only causes more irritation.
"You aren't going to get anywhere burning holes into my back, you know that right?" I don't hesitate to let my irritation mix with my voice. When she doesn't say anything, and I still feel her eyes on me, I decide to wait for five minutes, and if she doesn't stop, I'll make something up and tell her that. Five minutes passes by quickly.
"FINE!" I yell, sitting up and spinning around to face her. Her smirk she wears annoys me, and I'm tempted to say something that makes it melt away, but I know I wouldn't. "I was wondering because I can't remember a lot about when I had Henry." I'm surprised that I tell her half of the truth. I hadn't planned on telling her any of the truth, but the words slipped. I look away from her questioning look awkwardly.
"Really? Do you remember anything at all?" She sounds more like a friend than a mother, and that makes me smile a bit. She seems to know when she needs to be a mother and when she needs to be a friend.
"Well, it's splotchy. I can remember the pain and going into labor, but I don't remember what happened after I had the-" I almost say them, but quickly cover myself, "Henry."
"The Henry? So now he's 'The Henry'?" She teases me. I wish she wasn't so perceptive. I give her a glare, but keep talking, ignoring her laughs.
"But I remember-" I pause, not knowing if I should bring up my past. She looks at me encouragingly. I sigh, not really wanting to give her too much, but I know I need to figure this out. And I need someone there when I do figure it out.
"You don't have to-" I cut her off.
"No. I need to know what happened. I need to remember what it felt like when I gave birth to my son." Determination thick in my voice. "But don't go all maternal on me. I need my friend right now, not my mother." I say crinkling my nose and giving her a pointed look. She gives a slight nod, and I think of how difficult this will be on her. I'm not prepared to give her to whole story, but I need to tell her about my dream, this much I know.
"Of course." She agrees. I take a deep breath, and don't really know where to start.
"Well, while you were telling me your story last night, I just got to thinking about Henry. I realized that I don't remember a lot about his birth or much about the pregnancy. And I fell asleep thinking about it, so I guess I was just dreaming about what it could have been like." I try to brush off my dream as nothing, but I know there was something different about it.
"You don't sound so sure." Mary Margaret gives me a small smile when I look over at her, surprised. I almost forgot I was talking to her. Man, she sure is good at this support stuff.
"Oh, umm, I don't know. It just felt so real, like I was reliving it. It was weird." I shrug, not wanting to make her concerned.
"Well, do you wanna tell me what it was about? Maybe I can help." I look at her with doubtful eyes, but when I see the hope in hers, I sigh, giving in entirely.
"Okay. Fine. It was my first doctors appointment and the doctor gave me a bunch of vaccinations and tested me for stuff and then she checked for a heartbeat." I'm uncertain about the next words that come out of my mouth, but I say them with strength, not backing down now. "She said she found two heartbeats and that I was having twins. But that's not possible because I don't remember having twins. I had Henry, and that's it. It's impossible." I sound so sure about it, but when Mary Margaret gives me a sympathetic look, I become nervous which quickly turns to defensiveness.
"Hey, I don't want your sympathy. I just need answers. And you're supposed to be helping me get them, so quit the looks." I say, obviously uncomfortable with her staring. She laughs lightly, and I shoot her a confused look. Is she laughing at me?
"You're so much like your father." I feel heat creeping up my neck and she smiles at that. "He always wanted the answer, not the looks that came with the question." She spaces out and gives a smile at the memory of her husband. Guilt starts to rush through me. It's my fault they're separated, if only she hadn't jumped in the hat. Of course, I'd probably be dead, but she'd be with her love and Henry.
Mary Margaret clears her throat as she comes back down from her thoughts, clearing mine out of my head, too. "Anyways, maybe it was a memory. Maybe something triggered the memory." I look over at her, not quite glaring but letting her know that I'm sure it wasn't a memory. "Or it's a dream, whichever you prefer." She says with an amused smirk and a quirked eyebrow. My eyes narrow at her smugness.
"I'm sure it was just a dream. I would remember having two children." I don't mean to be so stern with my words, but I see the amusement fade from Mary Margaret's face. She isn't upset or hurt by my words, but I know she thinks this is serious.
"I know you're sure, but maybe you got in a wreck or something and hit your head and just… forgot." I can hear the words she isn't saying. Maybe something tragic really did happen and you forgot because you felt you needed to. I know it hurts her to think of these things. She knows she wasn't there to protect me and that hurts us both. I swallow the awkward pause.
"Mary Margaret, I remember every bad thing that has ever happened to me. What would make this time any different?" I try to sound soft with my words, but I know that the sting won't go away. She looks at me with teary eyes, and somehow it doesn't bother me. In fact, my eyes start to water a bit, but I push back the tears. Remember, he isn't worth your tears. To which 'him' am I referring, I'm not entirely sure. That will be a question that I hope I never have to answer. Mary Margaret shrugs, a single tear dripping down her face, trying to mask her pain like I usually do.
I clear my throat and break eye contact. If I keep my eyes locked on hers for much longer, I know I won't be able to hold back my tears. I'm not sure what it is about Mary Margaret's eyes, but they're always so… loving. And seeing that love in her eyes makes me wish that I could tell her everything. Everything that I've been through. I don't think she'd handle that very well, though. She'd probably kill Kevin, which I really wouldn't mind, but she'd get all soft with me, and I can't have her treating me any more like a child than she already does. It's gratefully taken at times, but others, I just wanna smack that look of helplessness right off her face. I don't need her to look after me like I'm an infant anymore. She missed that chance, and, as harsh as that sounds, she can't get it back. She needs to be with me in the moment, not the baby she put through the portal.
"Get some rest, Emma." Mary Margaret requests. "We both need rest for tomorrow." To show her that I hear her, I turn over on my side and curl into myself, tugging my knees to my chest and tucking my elbows into my chest. I realize that I'm in fetal position, just like how I used to sleep as a child when I wanted my mom.
My eyes blink closed and I seem to relive one of my memories as a child, though I know I'm not sleeping for I'm still coherent and aware of Mary Margaret's presents next to me.
I'm a child, probably five or six, and I'm waiting for my new foster parents to come pick me up. I hadn't had a foster family since I was three and they got pregnant and gave me back. I don't know what to think, I'm watching the child version of me sit on the velvet chair in the office of the supposed shelter that they system gave to us. I watch as a man and woman approach me and kneel down the chair. I remember being scared of having to impress another family. I didn't know what was going to happen if I misbehaved, so I never did. Or, at least, I tried not to misbehave. I didn't look people in the eye and submitted to everyone's needs. Everyone walked over me, even as a child.
I see the wariness cross my own five-year-old face as the man begins to talk, probably trying to reassure me that I'll be safe with his family.
"Can I take my blanket?" I hear my little voice drift across the room, and the man and woman laugh. I see my little face fall at the laughter.
"Emma, sweetheart," the man begins bitterly, "it's my job to make sure that you grow up. You're five; you don't need a blanket. Give it here." He holds out his hand, and I see the young girl reach sadly into her backpack and grab the blanket that has her name stitched carefully in the middle. When he snatches it from her, I see a tear slip down her face, and I feel a familiar heat behind my lids.
"That's the only thing I have left of my mommy and daddy, though." The girl's pitiful voice reaches my ears, and my eyes water at how much sadness is behind my own innocent voice. The woman leans down to my eyes level, and I can see the emptiness in her eyes from where I stand across the room.
"Emma, your mother left you on the side of the road. She didn't want you, and for that I'm sorry, but, now, I'm your mom. For now, at least." The little girl looks up at the woman with defiance, something that rarely came out of me as a child.
"No. My mommy and daddy love me!" She cries out, clearly upset from being told that her parents don't love her. The man kneels down to her level too, and grabs ahold of her arm, yanking her toward the door.
"We're going to have to fix that attitude, little missy." He says angrily.
My eyes flash open, and I'm back with Mary Margaret. My mom. See! I want to yell at all my past foster parents. She does love me! You were wrong. I feel a tear roll down my cheek, and I scowl at the weakness.
I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes, but I find I can't move my arms. What the hell? I feel a pressure that drapes itself across my stomach, and I cringe. Mary Margaret's arm is secure around me. I turn my head around to ask her what the hell she thinks she's doing, but what I see makes me stop and rethink things. She seems to be dreaming, twitching occasionally.
I let her keep her arm there, but not after I try to move it without waking her. I stop moving when I hear her whimper. It's small at first, but it's obvious that she's having a nightmare. Her grip tightens around me and I sigh, rolling my eyes. I had been so close.
"Emma." Mary Margaret mumbles, and I feel my eyes widen. Well, at least I know what parent I got my apparent sleep talking from. "I'm sorry."
I manage to wiggle my way out of her tight grip just long enough for me to turn my body so that I'm facing her. Immediately, her grip tightens again when she feels my body stop moving.
"I'm sorry." She murmurs again, and I feel that I have to say something to ease her mind.
"It's okay." I whisper, hoping that she can hear me in her dream. She whimpers, and I feel the urge to talk more, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because she can't get all sappy on me if she doesn't remember what I say to her while she's sleeping. Just a guess. "Just promise me that you'll never leave me again." My voice is as broken as when I told Henry that I loved him.
"Mk, Emma. I promise." She sounds so out of it, that it makes me want to laugh, but I hold back when I see her face screw into a look of terrible pain. I'm not sure if it's a physical pain or an emotional pain, but her whimpering starts back up. I don't know the best way to ease a sleeping persons mind, but I do the unthinkable. I completely swallow my pride and scoot closer to her until my head rests under hers and I feel like the five-year-old that I just saw. The worst part is that this is what I've been waiting for since I was able to form a coherent thought. My face is nestled into Mary Margaret's neck, and the child in me that craves this affection is having a party in my head. But there's the other part of me, the larger part that I'm having to constantly bat down when I'm with Mary Margaret, that keeps screaming at me to run. It's telling me that, like everyone else, she's only going to leave me with a shattered beaten heart. And I won't be able to do anything about it.
The internal battle continues, but the child in me wins, continuing to grow. The child in me has been winning more and more recently, and I know it's Mary Margaret and Henry who're making me soft. I swallow, hoping that I haven't woken Mary Margaret. This would be hard to explain, and I'm going to do everything I can in the morning to avoid having a conversation on how we managed to get tangled up in a mother-daughter embrace.
I can't seem to sleep, so I let my mind wander. I don't mean to slip back into the thoughts on how my mom hasn't been there for me, but it happens. All the times that I needed her and she wasn't there. But she's here now, and that's what lifts my heart. A tear slides down my cheek, and, this time, I don't even bother trying to wipe it away. I shut my eyes tightly and take a deep, calming breath. I try not to let any more tears leak out my eyes, but before I can, a few more stream their way out of my eyes and down my cheeks.
I hear Mary Margaret start whimpering again, almost as if she can feel my sorrow. Sorrow? No. I'm happy. This thought enters my head, and I feel completely taken aback. I've been happy before, but this feels different. I was happy when Henry ended up being alive, but this is… I don't even know how to describe it. It almost feels like relief. My heart feels light and heavy all at once. But I'm comforted by the new feeling. I finally feel loved. As if on key, Mary Margaret starts to sleep talk again. Only this time, I don't hesitate to answer.
"I love you, Emma." The soft sigh escapes my lips, and before I can think about it, I'm speaking.
"I love you, too, mom."
A/N: So, how'd you like it? I'm going to explain some more of Emma's past, but it's not going to all come at once. Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewing! 5 more reviews and I'll update ASAP! :) You guys are great, and I hope you all liked it. If you have ANY suggestions, go ahead and PM me about them, I swear I don't bite. I take any suggestions and see how to flip it some and rearange, and, most likely, in some form or another, your idea will be spit back at you with a certain twist you might love, but you might not. Your choice on that one. LOVE YOU ALL! PLEASE REVIEW!
~ladywolf101
