The Child's Name

by Rose Lupus

Rumpelstiltskin snatches a young Emma from her foster care home to manipulate her parents in a different world and time . He returns her, but there's a consequence he didn't forsee. Emma now knows exactly where she belongs, and she's heading to Storybrooke - 24 years ahead of schedule.

10. Chapter 10

"Woah!" Mary Margaret gasped and staggered; pretending to almost be knocked over by the child torpedo.

She was a little taken aback by the violently enthusiastic display of affection from a child she didn't know, but she wasn't about to turn down a cuddle from an adorable little kindergarten child either. She lay her hand upon the child's head and smiled down at her (her hair was so soft!). She was always struck by how tiny the kindergarten students were compared to her own students – kids grew so fast. This one in particular seemed even tinier, probably still four years old.

"Hello!" Mary Margaret greeted the cuddly little bundle of energy.

The little girl lifted her face to look up at her and the smile on her darling face melted Mary Margaret's heart into a puddle of goo. This was quite possibly the most precious little child she had ever laid eyes on. Then the child stretched her arms up to Mary Margaret in a classic pick-me-up gesture, and Mary Margaret was a complete goner.

She couldn't contain the "Awww!" that spilt from her lips, and she definitely, absolutely could not turn that request down. She slipped her hands under the girl's arms and lifted her into her arms. She was immediately rewarded with a hug.

Emma wrapped her arms and legs around her mother and clung to her, letting her head flop down on Mary Margaret's shoulder with a sigh of contentment. She hadn't slept very well the night before, and she had walked an awfully long way from Madison. Now that she had found her mother and was safe in her arms, she finally allowed herself to give in to the tiredness that had been building up all day.

The child felt so much lighter in her arms than she had expected. She was soft and fragile, her hair smelled of some sweet fruit, and she relaxed against Mary Margaret with such an obvious and complete trust that it wrenched at something deep inside her heart.

Suddenly, irrationally, tears were prickling at her eyes.

Mary Margaret clung to the little girl and breathed in her scent, as if this child whose name she didn't even know could save her from the profoundly confusing surge of emotion that was pulling her to pieces.