Disclaimer: NOTHING you recognize belongs to me. If only I could be that awesome.
A/N: Hi there, story, didn't see you there. I'm sorry that again, my updates are so far apart. Unfortunately, with school starting that's going to be a frequent thing now. It's really exciting that so many of you are still reviewing, favoriting, and following this story. Seriously, you all rock! Thank you so, so much! I know you've waited a long time for this moment - not just the chapter, but the first meeting between Emma and Snow. I hope you enjoy.
Thanks to Melissa, who searched in vain to figure out the exact shade of Ginnifer Goodwin's eyes. Some details are better left unsaid.
When Snow woke again, darkness had fallen.
She bolted upright, panicked; was it too late? Then she caught sight of the clock, which told her it was almost nine. She'd been asleep for the whole afternoon, and judging from the crick in her neck, her body did not approve of her decision to use the kitchen table as a makeshift bed. At least her headache had subsided.
Snow stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, trying to loosen her cramped muscles. She wondered if the diner was still open. She didn't remember seeing a sign earlier with the restaurant's hours, but it seemed like the sort of place that would stay open late, especially in a town like this. Snow doubted there was even another restaurant on that street.
It seemed like she should at least try. With any luck, the place would be less crowded and she would finally be able to say something to Emma. She wasn't sure exactly what she would say – Hi, do you remember me at all? didn't seem like the best place to start – but she hoped to at least introduce herself. You're meeting a stranger, Snow told herself, trying to ignore the pang in her heart. She doesn't know you, and you don't know her.
With that thought, Snow stood from the chair and straightened out her sweater. She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering if she'd ever get used to how short it was. Her purse was still lying on the table next to her bag of groceries. Snow felt her stomach ache at the sight of the food, a painful reminder that she hadn't managed to eat anything that day. She opened the bag and pulled out the bread and peanut butter. There had to be time to make a sandwich.
Snow set off five minutes later, her mouth still sticky from the peanut butter. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, although the streets were full of puddles from the downpour earlier. No one seemed to be out, though she didn't know if it was the weather or the late hour keeping them inside. Although the dark streets were lonely, Snow was also grateful that she didn't run into anyone, magical or otherwise, on the way to the diner.
The lights were still on inside, but the tables were empty. Red and Emma were nowhere to be seen. Snow hesitated, wondering if she should come back later.
But I've come this far already…
To her surprise, the door was unlocked. She pushed it open, a clatter of bells ringing as the door swung on its hinges. Snow let the door close behind her as she made her way up to the counter.
"Hi."
Snow felt her mouth go dry. Emma had suddenly appeared from the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a long ponytail and she carried cleaning bottles in her hands. It was clear she was getting ready to close.
"Hi," Snow said breathlessly. She looked at the supplies in Emma's hands, willing herself to stare at anything but Emma's face. Even though she was expecting to see her daughter as an adult, Snow was not ready for the storm of emotions raging in her chest. Her heart ached so much it hurt.
"Did you forget something?"
Snow blinked, wondering how Emma had known. "Yes, my…" Emma held up the umbrella from behind the counter. Snow smiled. "Exactly."
"Bad day to forget it," Emma said sympathetically as she handed it over.
Snow merely nodded as she took her umbrella. She couldn't stop staring; her daughter was so beautiful. Her hair was as blonde as Snow remembered; her eyes, the exact same shade. In fact, with Snow's dark hair, they looked nothing alike. No one would even be able to tell they were related.
But I know we are, Snow thought fiercely. That's all the matters.
"So where are you from?" Emma filled Snow's silence. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. You new?"
"Yes," Snow replied. "I just arrived last night." Snow expected Emma to comment on her strange status as a visitor, but either Emma didn't find it strange or thought it rude to comment. Instead, Emma asked, "So what brings you to Storybrooke?"
You.
"I've just found a job," Snow said. "I'm a teacher at the elementary school." Somewhere you clearly haven't been in a long time.
Despite her desire to talk to Emma, Snow was finding it very difficult to find anything to say. There were so many questions that she hardly knew where to begin. Not to mention the fact most of her questions would probably be taken as impertinent or rude. A six-year-old may have been more forgiving, but not the woman in front of her. It pained Snow to even think it, but she hardly knew her daughter at all.
How could she have missed so much of her life?
Snow realized she'd been quiet for a long time and wondered why Emma hadn't asked her to leave. Emma was wiping down the counters and seemed to be paying little attention to Snow. Snow wondered if that was because Emma was so used to spending time alone. She hoped not.
As Emma moved the rag over to where Snow was standing, Snow quickly moved her hands from the counter. "I'm sorry, am I in your way?"
"No," Emma replied. "To be honest, I don't mind the company. Nights here can get kind of lonely."
"Well, I'm happy to stay," Snow said, smiling. She sat down at the counter. "No one should be alone when there's company to be had."
Emma returned the smile, but kept working. "It's funny, you know. I haven't lived in Storybrooke as long as some people, but I think you're the first new person I've seen since my first day."
"I've gotten that reaction a lot," Snow admitted. "I don't think this town gets many visitors."
Emma shook her head. "Not any. It was a huge surprise when Mayor Mills won the last election. She's not even fromhere."
"She wasn't from Storybrooke?" Snow repeated, considering this new information. How long had Regina been living here?
"No," Emma answered as she finished with the counter. "Moved here a few months before the election, established herself as the forerunner and won in a landslide." Emma paused, then said with a touch of bitterness, "I suppose her connections with Mr. Gold didn't hurt, either."
Of course that's how Regina won, Snow realized. Rumpelstiltskin did it for her. She considered this. The uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong nagged at her. Aloud she asked, "I read somewhere that Mr. Gold 'owns' this town. What does that mean, exactly?"
Emma frowned. "I don't know," she said. "I guess he 'owns' the town on paper, but it's really the mayor who runs the place. Although, she was out of town last week, so he was probably running the place in her absence. Hold on," Emma said, gathering her cleaning supplies. "I've got to put these back."
Snow mulled over Emma's words as her daughter slipped back into the kitchen. Regina had been out of town for a week; that had to be why Rumpelstiltskin would have given her the antidote now. He had set everything up perfectly, inserting Regina into Storybrooke in a position of power, but one still second to his own. Snow wondered when Regina would be back, but thought Emma might find it strange of her to ask. She could only hope that Regina's absence would be long enough to give her some time to move about Storybrooke freely.
The feeling that something was wrong continued to bother her. There was something out of place here…and then Snow realized what seemed so strange. Emma spoke of Regina as though they hardly knew each other, were barely more than two women living in the same town. But that can't be right, Snow countered. Regina was supposed to have raised Emma. They had to know each other.
Unless they don't…She supposed she had no guarantee that Regina had raised Emma at all. Regina had said she would raise Emma as her own, but she could have been lying to get Snow to go along with the poisoning. What if Regina hadn't raised her? Regina never wanted children; it was entirely possible she had pawned Emma off to – Snow shuddered. The only person worse than Regina for raising Emma was Rumpelstiltskin.
"Hey," Emma said suddenly, breaking Snow's reverie. "I've got to lock up now, so if you don't mind…"
"Oh!" Snow immediately slid off the stool. "Not at all." She smiled at Emma. "Thanks for letting me come in so late. And for my umbrella." And letting me meet you. And talk to you.
"No problem…" Emma broke off, laughing uncertainly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."
Snow laughed too. The idea that she was about to introduce herself to her own daughter – under a fake name, no less – was ludicrous. "Mary Margaret."
"Mary Margaret," Emma repeated. Snow thought for a fraction of a second that the name 'Margaret' might stir up a memory, but Emma didn't comment. "My name is Emma."
I know, Snow thought as she shook Emma's hand. I named you.
A/N: Next chapter, Henry! How do I know this? Because I've actually written most of it already! I wrote a first version, talked it over with beta dearest some, decided to change parts of it BUT I will finish the new version tonight, and hopefully - fingers crossed - have it posted in less than a week. Of course, I've probably jinxed myself now, but one can hope! In the meantime, please leave me a review!
