In the back of her mind, Emma had known it was only a matter of time. Between Mary Margaret's implicit trust in just about everybody and all the not-so-sneaky sneaking around she and David had done, it had to come to a head sooner rather than later.
That said, Emma had fervently hoped that circumstances would prove her wrong, if only for Mary Margaret's sake. Nothing was worth what Mary Margaret was going through at the moment.
Someone not wanting to talk, Emma knew how to handle. Hell, she was the queen of not wanting to talk. Not wanting to be alone while not wanting to talk, though, was something entirely out of her comfort zone. Emma was much more solitary, preferring to lick her wounds in private and emerge to face the world once she'd gotten a better handle on the situation. As such, she had no friggin' clue what the hell she was supposed to do to help someone who didn't want to be alone.
But this was Mary Margaret. This was the woman who'd opened up her home to a stranger without hesitation and had taken Emma under her wing in more ways than one. She'd tunneled her way under Emma's wall so slowly and patiently that Emma hadn't even known it was happening. To Emma's complete surprise, Mary Margaret had become her best friend, and her best friend's world was crashing in on her. Emma had to try.
She settled down on the empty side of the bed, hoping she was doing this whole comforting thing correctly. Mary Margaret didn't move but she didn't tell her to get up, either, so she stayed. She had no idea what her next step should be and hoped that her presence would be enough.
It struck Emma as cruel how the same twenty-four-hour period could be so nice for some people and so devastating for others. Take her own day, for example. Her drink "date" (not that she wanted to label it as such but whatever) with August W. Booth – and finally the guy had a name – had been … interesting, to say the least.
She didn't quite know what to make of that guy. On the one hand, he was cocky and very big into the whole faith and belief thing. Emma didn't do faith. She was a pragmatist. Evidence and facts were nothing to shake a stick at, after all. Plus, in her experience, taking things on faith tended not to end very well. On the other hand … well, she certainly had never had a guy take her to a picturesque wishing well in the woods on a "date" and it was good water.
Then there was the matter of Henry's book showing up out of the clear blue sky. That was just … odd. The explanation she gave Henry about it falling off the trash truck – the only thing she could think of that made any kind of sense – required a hell of a lot of serendipity. Then again, she supposed that stranger things had happened. Either way, the look on the kid's face when she gave the book back to him had made it all worth it. His grin had brightened up his whole face and it practically killed her to have to leave before Regina caught them together.
Yeah, now that she thought about her, her day had been really nice. The same, however, could not be said for poor Mary Margaret.
Emma turned her head and glanced over at her roommate. She hadn't moved but the rhythm of her breathing made Emma sit up a little bit. She peeked over Mary Margaret's shoulder and smiled sadly. Sure enough, the teacher had cried herself to sleep.
Thinking that maybe she should find a blanket or something for Mary Margaret, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Mary Margaret whimpered in her sleep, causing Emma to freeze. Had the slight bounce of the mattress when Emma moved disturbed her?
Slowly, she lay back down. To her surprise, Mary Margaret calmed. Well, now what? She supposed she could give it another little while, let her roommate fall into a deeper sleep before she tried moving again.
Lying there in the semi-dark, Emma let her mind wander. Though Mary Margaret hadn't told her what had happened, Emma had heard bits and pieces through the Storybrooke grapevine. The sheriff of a small town could hear all kinds of things if she listened hard enough.
The rumors flying around town were enough to make anyone want to run and hide until things calmed down. Poor Mary Margaret was wholly unprepared for the sudden turn her life had taken. She'd obviously never had to learn how to ignore whispers and stares and sideways glances.
Although, speaking of the Storybrooke grapevine, where the hell was the anger at David? Last Emma checked, it took two people to carry on an affair. David Nolan was just as culpable as Mary Margaret. Seeing him get off mostly scot-free while Mary Margaret shouldered the lion's share of the blame made Emma angrier than words could say.
Something else had happened, though, Emma was sure of it. The utter devastation in Mary Margaret's voice could not simply be from the affair becoming public knowledge. The teacher's heart was broken, for what Emma could only assume was the first time.
She hadn't noticed that her own eyes had slid shut until she felt herself drifting. Crap, maybe she should try getting up again …
The next thing she knew, a gentle hand was shaking her awake. "Mary Margaret?" she asked groggily. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes." The defeated tone of her voice betrayed her words. Emma swiped her hand over her eyes in an effort to wake herself up a little bit. "I just thought you might be more comfortable in, you know, pajamas."
Emma glanced down at her jeans and top and realized that her roommate had a point. She also noticed for the first time that Mary Margaret had changed out of her clothes and into pajamas herself before curling back up on the bed. "I'm all right for now. How are you doing?"
"Not so all right," she answered honestly. The little smile she gave Emma didn't quite reach her red-rimmed eyes. "I think I just want to go back to sleep and deal with it in the morning."
That feeling, Emma understood very well. "Sounds like a plan," she said softly.
"Thanks for staying with me, Emma," Mary Margaret said as she closed her eyes. "It helped more than you know."
She had been planning on going upstairs to her room but her friend's words tugged at her heart. She couldn't leave her alone. Not yet.
Sighing quietly, Emma climbed off the bed and tiptoed out of the room only to return a few moments later with the blanket she'd meant to get a couple of hours ago. She carefully spread the blanket over her roommate, whose eyes fluttered open at the action. "What're you doing?"
"Staying with you until you fall asleep," Emma replied as she reclaimed her spot on the bed. Her breath caught in her throat when Mary Margaret turned to face her and grasped her hand. She hadn't expected that but even more surprising was the fact that she hadn't instinctively pulled away. "I promise I won't pass out on you this time."
"S'okay if you do," she murmured, her eyes drifting closed again.
Emma didn't answer, mostly because she knew Mary Margaret wouldn't have heard her anyway. She waited until her roommate's grip relaxed before gently slipping her hand free. When Mary Margaret didn't flinch, Emma knew she was in a deep enough sleep that she could go up to her own room.
She slowly got up from the bed and drew the curtain closed behind her on her way out of the room. As she climbed the stairs to the loft, she prayed that Mary Margaret would feel better in the morning. Heartache sucked but it would be less painful for her in time. The townspeople would forget the affair the second a new scandal captured their attention. And in the meantime, anyone who gave Mary Margaret even the slightest bit of crap would have to deal with Emma.
Would locking anyone who dared to antagonize the teacher in one of the holding cells for an hour or two be an abuse of power? Probably. Then again, Emma didn't think she cared all that much whether it was an abuse of power or not.
She changed into what passed for pajamas before climbing into bed. After listening to make sure that nothing was coming from downstairs, she curled up under the covers and closed her eyes. Tomorrow was a new day, and it had the potential to be a much better one for Mary Margaret.
After all, Emma thought as she drifted off to sleep, how could it possibly get any worse?
