Chapter Fourteen

"Do you think it's over?"

"I hope so."

Emma finally opened her eyes. She'd barely realized she'd been clutching Will like he was someone she'd loved for years and was afraid to let go of.

And at first, she didn't want to back away.

Then she remembered him killing Regina, just crushing her heart in his hands like it was nothing, like murder was not only something he was impartial to but something he was familiar with. And she practically leaped backwards.

"Emma . . ." he said, sounding hurt. Looking hurt. "I had to. Don't you understand?"

"I . . . I don't know, Will," she answered honestly. She shivered; that huge cloud of purple had enveloped them in an overwhelming surge of ice-cold wind, like a blizzard without snow.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked. "Do you remember anything?"

"I was only a few hours old when they sent me through that portal, remember?" Emma didn't bother to hide the annoyance in her tone. "Little young for memories, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, Emma, truly, I am," he said earnestly. She remembered when he kissed her, how gentle he'd been, how soft his lips were. How she wanted more of him, how for the briefest moment she didn't care about the curse. All she wanted was Will.

Not anymore.

She couldn't ignore the fact that he'd killed Regina like that. It was too much.

"It didn't work correctly, if it makes you feel any better," Will said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were right. I knew you were. You were supposed to be the one to break the curse, bring us back to the Enchanted Forest. But since I killed Regina, it didn't completely work."

"So we're supposed to be back there right now?" Emma asked. "In fairytale land?"

"The Enchanted Forest," he corrected, "And yes."

A thought struck Emma. "Mary Margaret!" She said. "David . . . Ruby . . . everyone. We have to see if they got their memories back."

"Uh, judging by that massive storm of magic that just passed over, I'm pretty sure they did."

"Let's go," Emma said.

"You still want me with you?" Will asked hesitantly.

Emma nodded. "You've been good to me, in Storybrooke. I don't want to, but I trust you."

He cracked a smile. "You know I didn't want to do that," he said quietly. "It was only so you wouldn't have to."

"How valiant of you," Emma grumbled. "Now come on." This time, she didn't take the hand that he offered her.

As they headed back into town, Emma felt disoriented and shaky. What she'd just witnessed was more than enough, but now she had to potentially face her parents for the first time. She had parents. People who had to love her, no matter what.

What if it didn't work? Maybe it would be better that way, she thought. Less complicated.

There were people crowding the streets, which were illuminated now by the sun, rising steadily in the distance. Everyone was hugging and reminiscing and expressing their gratitude for the fact that they were themselves again.

Emma felt out of place here. She'd come to know all these people in the last few weeks, but not well. And they would all know who she was now much better than she knew herself. They would see her as a princess, a future queen to their kingdom, which was a stranger thought than Emma had ever had.

She had planned to go to the hospital first, to make sure Mary Margaret was okay, and if not awake, at least recovering from the lifting of the curse. But she didn't get a chance.

"Emma?" It was definitely Mary Margaret's voice, from behind her on the sidewalk, about a block away from the hospital. Emma turned to face her, her nerves crackling.

Mary Margaret stood with David-though, Emma remembered, they were really Snow and Charming-not ten feet away. They both looked ready to cry, but not sadly, she was happy to realize. Whatever Will had done may not have worked completely, but it had worked.

"H-hi," Emma stammered, unsure of what to say. What's up, Mom and Dad?

"Emma," Mary Margaret said again, and slowly approached her. "I . . . I don't know what to say." She was regarding Emma with a kind of curiosity and amazement.

"You don't have to say anything," Emma said quickly. "We don't have to make things awkward. Just . . . I guess you guys are my parents?"

Mary Margaret and David both grinned. "Yes," he said, and maybe she was imagining it, but she could've sworn she detected pride in his expression. "Yes, we are."

Emma was struggling to find other words when they both threw their arms around her, crushing her to the point where she couldn't really breathe.

She didn't care.

"I'm so, so sorry," Mary Margaret said, her voice muffled by Emma's shoulder.

Emma tried to tell her it was okay, but found she couldn't speak. Her face was being smashed into David's jacket.

When she finally managed to wriggle free and inhale some oxygen, Emma did tell her. "It's okay," she said. "I . . . I'm not mad, or anything." And she wasn't. She was confused, maybe, but not angry.

"I can't believe I didn't notice," Mary Margaret said. "I should have. I'm . . . I'm your mother, I should have known."

That was so strange for Emma to hear. None of her foster parents had even considered themselves her mother or father. These people did, because they were. She finally had a family.

"I could have noticed, too," Emma pointed out.

"Me, as well," David said.

"Well, I guess we won't be known as very observant people," Emma said, and they laughed.

"That's okay," Mary Margaret said. "We're known for other things."

"Like?"

"Like finding each other," she said, smiling up at David. "We're pretty good at that. And, apparently, you are too."

"I think everyone owes Will an apology," David said, nodding at the boy, who lingered, alone, a little ways behind Emma.

"I'll be back," she told her parents.

"Yes," Mary Margaret nodded. "We have a lot to talk about."

Emma, happier than she'd ever thought she would be before, approached Will. She felt a small pang of guilt for him; everyone else was celebrating and reuniting with their family members, but he had none.

"Where are your Lost Boys?" She said, grinning.

Will gave her a knowing look, appearing to try not to smile. It didn't work. "Back in Neverland," he said. "Not everyone was brave enough to come here to try and break the curse."

"How modest of you," Emma teased.

"Emma, I like you," he said, catching her off guard. "And I know that you probably don't feel the same way, but I've-"

Emma, figuring it was finally her turn to surprise him, leaned over and kissed him. "I forgive you," she said.

"Good." Will slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to him. "Now, we're not all in the clear yet."

"What do you mean?"

"This may be your world, but it's not ours." He looked around wearily. "We've got to get back to the Enchanted Forest."