Chapter 11: Breakfast and Blueprints
Sleep was far from Snow's mind when she scooted her body close to James', cuddling with him more than she did with the blankets. Nothing could be warmer than having his arms around her. Nothing put her soul more at ease. Except for tonight. Tonight, her soul was like a rickety boat, crashing amongst the waves of a vicious sea. She was happy-here was her soul mate, so close to her their souls might have actually been touching. She was angry- he was also the man who had broken her heart like no other. Snow was depressed, her daughter only feet away but it might as well have been across another world, the distance between them unfathomable. She felt so many emotions at once that she almost felt none of them. Staring at the ceiling, trying to place where her daughter's body might have been, Snow laid numb against her husband's chest.
In her mind she replayed only one thing: the moment she had given Emma away. Every detail fresh, like she was still experiencing it.
It was like fire between her legs. Snow screamed, using every vocal cord available. She was conscious only of the absolutely agonizing pain. As the pain receded a bit she let out a breath and collapsed back. James had his arms around her, one on her back, the other holding her legs up. His entire body cradled her as best as he could. He whispered in her ear and rocked her a bit. The rocking felt good, like the constant movement could ward off another contraction.
"You're okay. You're doing fine," he said.
She cried, "I am not okay!" This had been going on for hours. When was it going to end?! In just the last half hour each abdomen- squeezing contraction had followed the last with more intensity. Snow was exhausted.
Doc came running back into the room, dumping blankets and towels onto the bed at her feet. He took one and dabbed it in water, bringing the wet cloth to her forehead. It did little to stop the radiating heat.
"Gepetto says the wardrobe is almost finished," relayed Doc.
She nodded, but then reared back as another swelling wave came plowing through her. A low groan escaped her lips, almost as deep as her pain. When it passed, James wiped her face with the sleeve of his shirt.
"I'm so sorry, my love," he cried. Snow knew he felt helpless. He kept his eyes trained on her as Doc instructed him on how to hold her legs. He wanted nothing more than to take this pain from her.
"We're almost there," said Doc, a worried crinkle forming on his brow. "Gepetto must hurry. It's almost time."
The castle exploded in a raucous. The tower bells chimed their heavy, steel rings through the windows. Doors slammed shut and people started running. Metal clanged through the hallways and crashes resounded off the walls. The curse was coming.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Snow yelled. No, she couldn't come now. The wardrobe wasn't ready, she wasn't in it. They wouldn't make it and her child would be lost, they'd be ripped apart!
James shushed her and took her face in his big hands. He stared into her eyes. "It's okay. We're almost ready. We have time."
Snow shook her head. He was wrong, they did not have time. Now was not the time for faith, it was the time for action. She had to go now. Ready or not, James had to take her to the wardrobe right now! Snow opened her mouth to tell him but she was cut short. It was like being crushed on all sides by a mountain, the pressure.
The pain she could handle, she had suffered much pain in the past and found that she'd developed quite the threshold. But the internal struggle was unbearable, a losing battle. Her body and mind yelled at her to push, but her heart screamed back, no! She couldn't, her child's life was at stake. She had to go with her.
"NO!" Snow screamed as if vocalizing would make her body bend at her will, but it did not. It fought harder, and she was slipping. Snow tried to close her legs. No matter what it took, even if it killed her, she would not let her daughter be born in this world. Snow would willingly sacrifice her life for it, but if it couldn't work, then James could go into the wardrobe with her. She wouldn't need her mother.
Again, she hollered. She needed more energy. She was putting all she had into keeping this child in place, but it wasn't enough. She felt her, round and heavy, a weight struggling to climb out.
"It's ready!" she heard and opened her eyes enough to see Gepetto beckoning at them. She looked at James, a glint in his eyes as he smiled. She did not return it. It was over, she couldn't hold on. James tried to lift her, but Doc told him to stop. It was too late.
Pushing by then was easy. It was natural, something she had been wanting to do for an hour already. But the only thing she could think was that she failed. Her child had not even taken her first breath and already she was a failure as a mother. They would be cursed forever and for all Snow knew, Regina would swoop in and kill her baby, ensuring her revenge would last eternity.
When the baby slid out, it was like Snow could finally breathe. She heard a sharp wail screech through the air, and despite her inadequacy she could not help but grin. What lungs! Doc cleaned the baby quickly and then wrapped her in the blanket Granny had stitched. She was in Snow's arms in less than a minute and when Snow touched her wet face, she was mollified.
Snow smiled down at her daughter. Her daughter! She only opened her eyes once, and not even all the way, but Snow saw the greatest green eyes in the world. She hiccupped.
James laughed and cupped a hand under Snow's, helping her cradle their child. She had never felt happier in her entire life. She wondered if her own mother had felt this way, but her moment was short-lived.
"The wardrobe, it only takes one," she mused. A crash outside the door. James tightened his grip on her. She had failed.
Snow looked down at Emma. Hours and hours of pain, fighting every moment to just hold on a little bit longer. She saw Regina's dark face admitting to her that she had not yet taken enough away from Snow. She had tried to poison her, tried to kill James, and next she would come for Emma.
"No," Snow said, again speaking aloud to her own thoughts. "You have to take her. Take the baby to the wardrobe."
"Are you out of you mind!" breathed James. His eyes grew completely round and tearful, like wet coins. She hated herself.
"No, you have to," she yelled. He yelled over her. He would not do it. Damn it, James, she thought. Why wasn't he understanding. They had to give Emma her best chance. She cared not for what would happen to them; they could burn in hell forever, miles apart from each other, as long as Emma survived.
He was crying, but finally he got it. Snow laid a small kiss on Emma's forehead, telling her goodbye. Such horrible first words to hear from her mother, but she hoped one day Emma would understand. Snow practically threw her child into her husband's arms. She couldn't hold her anymore. There was no more time. If he didn't take her now, Snow would claw him to death before she let him take her away. James kissed her fiercely and then ran to the door, pulling his sword out of its leather sheath.
He turned and their eyes connected. She had never before seen such intensity in those bright eyes, like a blue fire had sprung up replacing his irises. It said, I will protect our daughter. I will save her. I will not fail.
Snow nodded and watched him sprint away. And then every cell in her body exploded. She wailed, never knowing there could be a pain worse than childbirth, worse then loosing your mother, worse than knowing you were responsible for the deaths and punishments of thousands of people, all combined into one. It was the pain of never knowing and losing your child.
Snow closed her eyes when James stirred. He slide out from under her and quietly walked out of the room. She remembered, he always did that. Getting up in the middle of the night for a drink was a regular ritual of his. A bump from the ceiling caught her attention. Emma must be up as well. She smiled, thinking how alike they were. Blonde, with striking features of course, but on a deeper level they were almost the same; same, strong personality and drive to get things done. Both natural leaders no matter what had happened in the past. Snow decided right then that she had done the right thing. If she and Emma never again connected, no matter how painful, Snow could die knowing that she'd done the best thing for her daughter.
From the kitchen she heard the faucet running and voices. They were quiet and Snow strained her ears to hear. She wanted to run through the curtain and join that moment with them, but James had not had the opportunities she had to know their daughter. Snow curled into a ball, preventing herself from getting up. James needed this.
The faucet whirred again. She wondered how long it would take before they could all be a family. Obviously she didn't expect the change to occur overnight, but Snow desperately prayed that it would not be too long.
"Stop!" she heard Emma say and something slammed, clashing with the metal of the sink.
Snow sat up, wondering if she should go see what had happened. She was just touching her feet to the floor when James pushed the curtain aside and stepped in looking defeated. A steady stream of tears rolled down to his chin and dropped to the white cotton shirt.
"What happened?"
His eyes unfocused, he slid his feet over to her side of the bed and sat down.
"The way she looked at me, Snow," he whispered shaking his head. She reached for his hand. "She hates me."
Snow shook her head. "No, Charming, she doesn't hate you. She couldn't. Emma's just scared."
His lips shook. "It was hate in her eyes. I know what I saw. Our daughter wants nothing to do with me."
Snow frowned and wiped a line of tears from his face. She kissed him lightly. Then Emma wanted nothing to do with either of them, because she'd seen the same thing earlier. It was an earth shattering realization, especially when in her heart she felt she did know Emma. They were best friends who just happened to be mother and daughter. But James had none of that. Maybe it was better. He could work his way into their daughter's heart, just as she had done in the beginning. Though she hoped that she still held one foot in the gate, Snow feared that she had been kicked out, the password on the door to her daughter's heart stronger than ever before, specifically designed to keep her away.
"Why don't we lie down," she said, pulling him onto the bed.
He nodded but sat up against the headboard his feet tucked under the covers.
"I'm not tired anymore, but you should sleep," he said patting her leg.
Snow crawled up next to him and placed her back against the headboard. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"No, it's okay. We don't have to sleep tonight."
And so they stared at the white sheet that stood for a door, each in his own thoughts, but knowing that the other was probably thinking of the same thing. Emma.
In the morning, James and Snow poured cereal from the cabinets and sat at the table. Snow pretended she didn't notice, but every five seconds or so, James' eyes would flit to the stairs, a hopeful look appearing every time, like he knew that this time Emma was sure to come down. She felt for him, because every time he felt a little pain and though she tried not to show it, she felt it too.
"Did you want me to call after breakfast, or will you be calling?" she asked, bringing his attention back.
His eyes lingered on the stairs for a moment longer, then he turned his head, disappointed again. "No, I'll call as soon as I'm finished."
After some time, they had sat in the bed discussing what they should do once the sun came up. Storybrooke was in disarray and much as they wanted to hole up and shy away, they both agreed that they needed to take charge before someone worse did. Regina was gone, disappearing, they had heard, after the revival of Henry, but that did not mean she would not be coming back. There were too many loose ends that needed to be tied and the town really need to be cleaned up. People needed something to do before they ran rampant. So, James had suggested they have two meetings: one for the sovereigns of their neighboring lands, and then a second with their War Council. Snow agreed; they should speak to the kings first, deciding if they wanted to separate Storybrooke into territories. It was a small town, but they did not want to step on anyone's toes- everything was difficult enough as it was.
"Where will we meet? Granny's? It's neutral," she said.
James shook his head, grinding the Lucky Charms in his mouth. "I want to have them here. In our space. Honestly, this is a formality. I want us taking charge; and we can control things much better if we can get everyone on our side. Intimidating them a bit in our home will help, I think."
Snow laughed. "I would hardly call this place intimidating," she said taking in the peeling paint, bright colors, and homey feel of the warm apartment. She did not miss the words "our" and "home" in his sentence.
"Well then, I guess I'll just have to try harder to scare them when they come," said Charming with a shrug.
A set a feet padded down the metal stairs calling their attention.
"Who's coming?" chirped a light voice.
Snow beamed, "Henry!"
He smiled at them and jumped the last two steps. Snow opened her arms wide and he ran forward crashing into her. She held him tightly and then pulled him away so she could look at his face. He had Emma's face, but his hair was a dark brown almost like hers. His eyes were like melted chocolate.
"It's nice to finally meet my grandson," she said recognizing how weird the word sounded coming from her mouth. She was barely a mother and yet here was this boy, the only one she had always felt a connection to, her grandson for the last ten years.
She looked at James and saw the brightness in his eyes, mixing with shock. He must have not remembered that Emma had a child of her own. Standing swiftly, James picked Henry right out of her arms and cradled him tightly. Henry responded enthusiastically, wrapping his short arms around his grandfather's neck.
"Hey Grandpa." They all laughed.
James lowered Henry to the floor. "It's amazing," he breathed, looking over his grandson's small face.
"How are you, Henry?" Snow asked. She could barely process that he was the same boy she had read to in the hospital. With the ghostly paleness gone, eyes shining like never before, Henry was an entirely new person.
"Emma's fine," he answered. Snow gave him a look, and he responded with a sly grin. She had not asked that, but it was exactly what she had been thinking. She remembered that he was the one to figure out the curse.
"So, I was thinking," said Henry, walking around the table and heading for the cabinets. He climbed up on the counter and opened a door pulling out a bowl and then jumped down walking back over to them. "You don't look old enough to be my grandparents, and I think that's cool, but then calling you grandpa and grandma would sound kind of weird, wouldn't it? I can call you Snow and Charming, unless you like something else."
Snow chuckled and James' face lit up. "You can call us whatever you like," he replied.
"Cool, Snow and Charming it is," said Henry pouring a hearty amount of Lucky Charms into his bowl.
"Not that much, Henry," called a voice from the stairs.
Snow's head snapped around. Emma stood at the base of the stairs, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked exhausted, heavy bags in the formative stage under her eyes, and she stood with her arms crossed, purposely avoiding eye contact with James and Snow. Snow felt her heart swell in her chest. Emma had come down. No matter what, it was a step in the right direction. They could go anywhere from here. Snow knew she had to take everything slowly, but right then she wanted to jump up and wrap Emma in an air- constricting hug.
"Come on, Emma!" Henry whined. "She never let me have these."
Emma rolled her eyes and strolled passed her parents, "Just not that much, kid. Let's not start this thing off on a bad foot."
Henry groaned, but he scooped half of his overflowing bowl of oats into the bowl Emma had produced. She hadn't missed that. She glanced at all the marshmallows in his bowl, but Henry gave her a full, toothy grin, so she shook he head and sat down opposite him, beside James.
"So," she started, "who is it you're planning to scare?"
She looked at them through hard eyes that made Snow want to wilt. It was like Emma had a switch that could turn her emotions off if pushed on hard enough. And when they were gone, her whole body turned to stone, like at Graham's funeral. A pang of guilt hit her when Snow realized he had been the Huntsman.
"Well, if we don't do something soon, Storybrooke is going to be in more chaos than it already is," James explained. Snow marveled at how well he could just dive into conversation with Emma, her throat seemed to close every time she even thought about it. "We're going to have a meeting with our War Council, but first we need to speak to the Kings of the other lands to get their support. We don't want to have anyone working against us during this time."
Emma nodded stoically and turned back to her cereal. Snow watched her take a few bites but then quickly averted her eyes knowing Emma probably wouldn't like her staring.
"What time are they coming?" said Emma, swallowing.
"I'm going to call now," James answered, standing to take his bowl to the sink. He stopped and took Snow's as well.
"You should come too, Emma," she said to her daughter. Emma only glanced at her before returning back to her food.
"Of course I'm coming," she grunted.
"Me too?" piped Henry, a mouthful of mushy marshmallows.
Emma nodded, "Yup."
Henry turned and grinned at Snow. She smiled back, happy that he was so excited. This must have all been amazing for him. He had run around Storybrooke for months ranting about how their little corner of the world was cursed, and by his mother no less. And now in less than twenty-four hours he had proven he was right and he had helped save everyone. Emma was right, Snow thought, he deserved to be a part of everything.
James walked off into the bedroom, announcing that he was going to start making his phone calls. Snow finally stood from the table and swept into the kitchen. It was perfectly clean, something that she was grateful for, so preparing an appetizer for their guests would be fairly easy. The world may be in disarray, but that did not call for a drop in hospitality.
Snow poked her head into the refrigerator. She spotted two full carton of eggs in the back. She had started buying a lot more when Emma moved in, finding that she shoveled them down her throat, like they were water whenever Snow cooked them for breakfast. Snow eyed Emma who was talking quietly with Henry. They had yet to exchange words, real words, and Snow wondered if Emma would ever talk to her. This was a perfect opening.
"Emma," she called. Her blonde head sprung up, pulling her attention away from Henry. Snow almost shivered under the cold stare, but she held her ground. She had to keep pushing through. She would never give up on Emma and she'd never give up of their chance to be okay again. "I'm going to make a little something for our meeting. Would you like to help me?"
"I'm taking Henry to pick some things up," Emma said immediately, pushing herself from the table and dropping her spoon into the bowl. Henry popped up and collected both of their dishes.
"I'll be down in a second, Henry," she said climbing the stairs to change her clothes.
Snow watched her daughter's feet retreat to the second floor. Like a balloon meeting a pin, Snow deflated. She did not know how much longer she could stand there, pretending that everything was alright. But that was how she was different from Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would have curled into the fetal position and cried had she been forced into the same situation. Snow had the urges, the strong desire to just let go and fall apart, but she wouldn't. She was not a princess anymore. She was a bandit and a Queen, a loyal friend and a fierce wife, devoted grandmother and a protective mother. She had to hold her family together, no matter what it took from her to achieve that. She was halfway there. Henry was more than happy to be living with them, surrounded by the love they were showing him in. She and Charming were reunited and together they were a ferocious pair. Emma was the outlier. Emma was her target.
"She'll come around," Henry told her dropping the dishes into the sink beside her.
Snow looked at him and sighed. It seemed Henry understood too; they had to let Emma come to them, clearing a path for her as she approached. Snow ran a hand through his hair.
"Thank you, Henry," she said crouching down to bring his head above hers. She looked up at him and cupped his cheeks.
His little chest puffed out, swelling with pride. He grinned down at her and she felt instantly happier, like his own emotions were transferring down to her. If Emma was the Savior then her son, Henry, was the Hope.
Just then Emma came down the stairs, jingling a set of keys in her hand.
"I'm ready, Henry," she called out.
He and Snow stood from behind the counter. Henry ran around it, joining his mother by the door. Emma opened it and let Henry out first, following him. She stepped through, hand on the door handle and paused. She turned slowly and looked up. Snow caught her breath, her eyes locking with Emma's own, the stony front wiped away exposing a deep dark green, a peek into the turmoil that boiled inside her. Snow saw Emma take a breath and lift her head, like she wanted to say something so she leaned into the counter, inviting Emma to speak, but the action must have been too brazen, because Emma shut her mouth and turned away, slamming the door behind her.