A/N: Okay, so think of this chapter as my apology for being so LAZY and not updating for the past couple of days. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It has Emma's fear in it as well as her first word. It has an interesting ending with a minor cliffy haha. I tried to take what everyone said into consideration and to make the chapter longer, so I hope I did okay! :) R&R Love you all!
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT!
I think about the story that I want to tell her: my biggest fear. Or, at least, that's what she wants me to tell her. I have a different story in mind. I know that I might not get a chance like this with my mom again, so I try to go deeper. Deeper than I would normally go. Back in time, to when I was a child. Things that she missed when I was so young. Things that she wanted to be there for.
"I have another story in mind." I say, looking over at her. She stops laughing, but her face remains soft.
"Okay." She says. "What did you have in mind?" A smile plays at her lips, and I know I've made her happy. She knows that it's going to be something a bit softer, not as entertaining.
"I was thinking about my first word." I look down shyly, not wanting to meet my mother's eyes. "My foster parents told me the story over and over again when I was little." I give a small laugh at the memory.
"I'd like that." I look at her and see her loving eyes and soft smile. I smile back easily, slipping into a comfortable routine of telling stories. I lay head down and look up at the trees, getting lost in the story.
"Pwease, pwease, pwease! Tewl me the stowy again!" I look at my parents with pleading eyes. I want to know what my first word is again. I'm scared I'll forget every time. My parents sigh, knowing that bedtime is becoming the same routine. Eat, give me a bath, put on my PJs, brush my teeth, hop in bed, and tell me the story of my first word. I don't know what's made me so fascinated with the story, but I want to hear it every night; I never want to forget it.
"Sweetheart, we've told you the story many times now. Don't you remember the ending?" My mother looks over at me with pleading eyes, not wanting to tell the story again. I make my bottom lip quiver, and my eyes go wide.
"Pwease?" I know I've got them by the panicked look on their faces.
"Okay, okay sweetheart. Don't cry, baby. I'll tell you the story." My father says, tucking me into bed and pulling up a chair.
"Yay!" I squeak, excited to hear the story again.
"You were three years old, and you wanted to hear about your first word?" Mary Margaret sounds puzzled. I don't know what to say to that. I don't know what three-year-old me found so interesting about my first word.
"I don't know. I was a weird kid." I explain, looking over at Mary Margaret. She grins at me; I grin right back.
"Well, you couldn't have been that weird. You wound up pretty great today." I roll my eyes.
"Of course you think that. I'm your kid." I give a laugh. "If I was a weird kid, that would make you or David a weird kid, too. And I doubt you want to admit to that." I say, raising my eyebrow with a smirk.
"Hey!" She hits the side of my arm as I laugh.
"That's what I thought." I say through my laughter.
"Just get on with the story." She grumbles. My laughter subsides as I try to remember where I left off.
"Well, you were very little, about one-years-old, and it was around Christmas time. It was late at night, and we were trying to get you to go to sleep, but you wouldn't stop crying. We fed you, we rocked you, we sang to you, and we even tried taking you on a car ride. Eventually, you stopped crying, but you were still wide-awake. So we played with you for a while. We put you in a pin so you wouldn't go wandering away. The pin was in the corner of the room where the windows stretched all the way down to the floor, so you could see out of them. You were just learning to stand and take a couple of steps on your own."
"Tewl me mowr abowt the woom, daddy." I plead, wanting him to take every detail and paint the picture in my head.
"Okay, pumpkin." He says, smiling down at me. "The room was big. Almost as big as the ballroom in your books that mommy likes to read you." My eyes widen in delight. "The room that we were in was all white with little drawings on the top of the walls. It was a very pretty room. We had couches, chairs, and tables that were white also. We were about to make the room a different color, so the room had to be emptied. You liked to play there as a baby; it was your comfort room." I nod my head, willing him to continue with the story.
"Well, you always did love that room, so we thought that you might go to sleep if we kept you in it for long enough. You played for hours and kept looking over at the window like you were waiting for something to happen. Mommy had fallen asleep because she was so tired, but I watched you to make sure you didn't go anywhere. I would occasionally pick you up and try to rock you, but you would start to wiggle in my arms and make sounds like you were going to cry. I would put you down, and you would stop. You kept looking over to the window. I didn't know what you were looking for, so I just sat by and watched you. Soon enough, you started to gurgle in your little mouth. You were happy about something, but I wasn't sure what. You stood up on your fat little legs and wobbled your way over to the window." I giggle in glee, knowing that he's about to say what my first word was.
"You put your little hand on the window and started to hit the window. I was going over to pick you up, to tell you that you couldn't bang on the window, when I saw what you were looking at. I hadn't seen snow in a very long time, so I was so happy. I watched you bang on the window again. You seemed to love the snow. I looked over at you and said 'That's right, Emma. It's snow." You turned your beautiful little eyes on me and squealed happily.
"Oh my God!" I shoot up from my laying position next to Mary Margaret. She jumps at the sudden movement.
"What?!" She asks, clearly alarmed. I had forgotten what my first word was, and telling the story brought it back. It brought back the memories of the dreams I would have after my foster parents told me the story.
"I forgot… oh my God. I think I know why I was so fascinated with the story when I was little." I say, looking over at my mom with wide eyes. How could I have forgotten my first word?
"Well, would you mind enlightening me?" She asks, slightly annoyed that she's so out of the loop.
"My first word…"
"You wouldn't stop squealing, but I just watched the window, looking at the falling little snow flakes. All of a sudden, you were banging on the window again. I shook my head at you and bent down you pick you up. You turned to look at me, and you're eyes were really wide. That's when you said it. You said you're first word."
"Snow." I whisper. I remember now. It was snow. How could I have forgotten that? "My first word was snow." I say, my wide eyes locking onto Mary Margaret's.
"You mean to tell me that your first word was my name?" Mary Margaret's eyes shine with unshed tears. I slap my hand over my mouth. She hasn't even heard about my dreams yet. I nod my head.
"They-they never understood why I was so excited about that story. Hell, I didn't even know why I got so excited. Oh dear God, my first word was my moms name, and I didn't even know it." I say, laying back down in a daze. Oh my God.
I don't hear anything next to me, so I slowly turn my head to look at the woman next to me. I swallow the lump in my throat, not sure what I'm going to see. When my eyes meet hers, the lump is impossible to swallow. I feel like my heart has jumped into my throat, making it impossible to breathe as well. Her eyes hold so many emotions that I couldn't even begin to decipher them all. I recognize a few: pride, happiness, sadness, but the others are impossible to make out.
The tears in her eyes are impossible to miss, as I'm sure mine are too. I try desperately to hold them back, to be strong. Because my tears might only bring more sadness to my mother, something that I don't want at all.
"I can't believe you're first word was my name." Her voice shakes with her lower lip.
"Please don't cry." I whisper pleadingly.
"Why not?" She almost wails. My heart breaks for her, and I feel guilty for causing her such pain.
"Because then I wouldn't able to stop crying." I draw in a shaky breath, trying to clear my throat. "And I wouldn't be able to tell you about after my bed time." I say, laughing lightly. I laugh to keep my tears at bay. It seems she does, too, because she joins in my broken, soft laughter. A single tear slides out of my eyes; she moves to wipe it. This time, I don't pull away, though I force my eyes shut and turn my head away when she's done, making myself not let another tear go.
"I had dreams. Dreams of our family." I can barely force the words out of my mouth. "After the story was told to me, I would dream about a family that wouldn't lie to me. Because I knew, even when I was three, I knew they lied to me. There was one night," I take in a shaky breath, "I asked my foster mom if she was my real mother. It was after I had one of my dreams." I stare up at the trees, remembering the dreams. All the different ones I had over the years.
I know this place by heart; it's not hard to mistake. But this time when I open my eyes it's different. I'm in a dress, a very pretty dress, just like I always am. I'm the same age, but I think and talk like I'm older, maybe five-years-old. But the woman with long, beautiful black hair, who I've learned is my mommy, is standing with a basket; that's what's different. She tells me that we are going on a picnic, and I've never been so excited. I've never been on a picnic, and now I get to go on one with my mommy. How exciting!
I run ahead of my mommy. She told me her name was Snow White when I first came to this world. I don't remember when my first time here was, but I know that I recognize the forest every time I come. I have it memorized almost.
"Where are we going on the picnic Snow?" I ask harmlessly. She doesn't know that I know she's my mommy. She hasn't told me; I just know. The leaves crunch under my little feet when I step on them.
"Oh you'll see, little one." She says with a smile. I turn around to look at her.
"You know, I've never been on a picnic before." I say, my eyes lighting up. Mommy's smile widens.
"I know, Emma. That's why I'm taking you on one. I wanted to be the first person to take you on a picnic." She says sweetly. I smile a toothy smile at her. She's always so nice to me.
"I want you to be the first person to take me on a picnic, too." I say proudly. She brushes my cheek with her thumb and goes to pull it away. I quickly grab ahold of her hand, her bigger hand enveloping my smaller one. I look up at her and squeeze her hand. She smiles down at me and squeezes my hand back. It almost looks like she's going to cry. Immediately my eyes widen, and my smile falls.
"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, tears coming to my eyes. I didn't mean to make my mommy sad. She kneels down to my level and wipes away the tears rolling down my cheeks.
"Oh no, sweet Emma. You didn't do anything wrong. You're just so special, little princess. You've made me happy, not sad." She says, a single tear rolls down her cheek. Before she can move to wipe it away, I do what she did to me. I raise my small hand and wipe away the salty water. She tilts her head into my hand and closes her eyes. I pull my hand away from her face when she stands back up; her eyes clear of any of that water. I take her hand in mine again. After a few seconds, her words register.
"You said I'm a princess." I say, turning to her, eyes wide in shock. She laughs lightly at my expression.
"Yes my dear, you're a very special girl. You're a princess of a noble King and Queen." My eyes widen at her. I'm a princess.
"So you know my mommy and daddy?" I ask, even if I know the answer. She nods her head at me. "So they do love me?" I ask desperately, seeking reassurance from my mommy. She stops in her tracks and looks down at me with horror. She bends back down to my level, placing the basket down for a second.
"Emma, I swear that they love you more than you could ever know." She shakes her head sadly. "They're so sad that they can't be there with you, in you're world. She wants you to find her." Her eyes are locked on mine, and I can't look away. I nod my head, understanding exactly what she wants. I'm supposed to find her.
"Okay. I promise I'll try." I squeak. She smiles sadly at me before pulling me into a quick hug. She pulls back, picking up the basket and starting to walk again. We walk in silence for a few more minutes before she pulls us to a stop in a clearing.
"Alright, we're here." She says, smiling down at me. I look around with glee. I run around, crunching as many leaves as I can. I see her set down the basket out of the corner of my eye. I race over to my mommy while she sets up the blanket.
"Can I help?" I ask instantly, doing whatever I can to make this perfect. She smiles at me again.
"Yes. Go play." She says, tossing her head to the side a bit. I nod my head excitedly. For about five minutes I play in the small clearing.
"Emma. Time to eat." Calls my mommy. I look over at her, leaves all over my pretty dress and in my golden hair. My eyes sparkle with energy. She laughs at me when she sees the mess I've made. "Come on." She waves me over to her, her eyes soft. I make my way over when I feel something crawl on my arm. I look down to find a tiny caterpillar crawling its way up my forearm. I look at it; my eyes widen in fear. I let a shriek rip through my throat before I fall backwards, trying to shake the creepy crawler off my arm. My mommy is immediately by my side trying to calm me. She picks the creature off of my arm and puts it on a tree.
"I see you're scared of caterpillars." She says lightly, trying to hide her smile. I look up at her, tears in my eyes. I nod my head. Of course I'm scared of those fuzzy things. What's not to be scared of?
She takes my hand and pulls me into her lap. I burry my head in her neck as a few tears stroll down my face.
"Oh, Emma. It's okay. There's nothing to be scared of. I'm here; I won't let it hurt you. I promise." She whispers in my ear. I whimper in response.
"You promise?" Her neck muffles my voice, but I'm sure she heard me.
"Of course I promise." She says, love in her voice. I stick my hand out at her, pinky raised.
"Pinky promise?" I say, lifting my head for her to see how serious I am. Pinky promise is a big deal.
"I pinky promise." She says, lifting her pinky to mine, locking them together. I throw my arms around her neck and let her carry me to the blanket. She sits down with me in her lap and lifts a piece of bread to my mouth. I eat it quickly, though I didn't think I was that hungry.
"Thank you." I say when I'm done chewing. Her response is just giving me a small smile. I recognize this smile instantly. I furrow my eyebrows angrily.
"No. I don't want to leave." I say, my face scrunching up. Her smile falls, and she looks at me sadly.
"You'll be back. Remember, what you said you'd try to do?" She asks me. I think back on our conversations. Oh yeah.
"I have to try to find my mommy and daddy in my world." I say, looking at my mommy from this dream world. I sigh heavily. "Why can't I just stay here with you?" I plead, clearly aggravated.
"Because you're going to be very important in your world soon. You need to find you're parents because they need you just as much as you need them." She says softly. I want to find my mommy and daddy if they're as nice as my mommy here. "Now, remember what I told you about getting home?" When she sees the blank look on my face, she refreshes my memory. "You have to close your eyes so you don't get dizzy. I don't want you getting sick." She says fondly. I nod my head and quickly run into her arms for one last hug. Well, until next time. She returns the hug easily.
"Goodbye, Emma. Until next time." She whispers in my ear when I close my eyes. I feel the forest fade, taking my mommy with it. I feel my bed underneath me once again, and I sigh. I need to know. I need to be positive.
I throw my covers away from my body and run over to my door. I open it and creep into my supposed mommy's room. I search for the light switch, my fingers finding it blindly. I flip the light on and run over to my mommy's side of the bed. I tug on her figure. She grumbles in her sleep, coving her face with her pillow.
"Mommy?" I ask quietly. She looks up from her pillow.
"Emma?" She mumbles. "Everything okay?" She asks instantly. I search for her eyes, locking them with mine.
"I have a qweswon." I say, eyes big.
"Yes sweetheart?"
"Are you my weal mommy?" I ask, coming right out with it. She shoots into a sitting position still hold my eyes. She gets out of bed and kneels next to me, like Snow did.
"Where's this coming from?" She asks, her eyes wide as saucers. I look at her innocently.
"I juwst wanted to know." I say, trying to excuse my behavior. Her eyes soften immediately.
"Oh, of course I'm your real mommy. I've had you since you were just a week old." She says. I feel a tugging in my heart and I know she's lying about being my real mommy. But I don't tell her that. I simply nod my head, letting her know I understand. She pulls me into a hug, but it's not as loving as my real mommy's was.
"I wiwl go back to bewd now." I say, excusing myself from her room. I can feel her eyes on my back as I turn off the lights and shut the door behind me, going back to my room.
I watch Mary Margaret's face, not sure what she's thinking. She didn't say anything when I was telling the story. I had dreams about her, and I knew her. I loved her far before I met her. I haven't remembered those dreams in, what, ten years, almost eleven? The last dream I had of her was when I was eighteen. I refused to tell her about Kevin when I was seventeen, but after Neal, I didn't tell her anything. I refused. I cut myself off from her completely, not wanting to trust anyone. I wanted to be alone then. I thought I deserved everything that happened to me and all my mother did was contrast that. So I started what I do best. I ran. She was the first person I really ran from for no reason, though there is a list of many others that come after her.
Mary Margaret's face remains blank; like she's trying to process everything I've told her. I swallow down my fear of rejection and turn to look at her fully, not just out of the corner of my eye.
"So… those were my dreams for a while. I would go and talk to you in my dreams and vent basically everything. You were the only person I ever told anything, the only person I trusted." She turns to look at me, her eyes wide. I'm prepared to answer any questions that she has.
"When did you stop having those dreams?" Her voice is barely a whisper, and it takes me off guard. Why would that matter?
"Uh, the last dream I had was when I was eighteen. Sorry, but I kinda went off on you." I say, my lips a thin, apologetic line. She nods her head, and I wonder if she even heard what I said. Why is that so important to her, anyways? I'm not even ready to discuss why I stopped talking to her in my dreams.
I keep my eyes trained on Mary Margaret, not daring to look away. I watch her face pale and her eyes go wide. She lifts a hand to her head and immediately I panic.
"Mary Margaret? What's wrong?!" I ask, checking over her body quickly. Did she drink or eat something bad? Was this too much information? Did I cross over some line that I didn't know was there? "Mary Margaret?" I question pathetically, my eyes wide with terror.
Her eyes snap open, and I immediately recognize some difference. Color somewhat returns to her face, and she moves her hand from her head.
"Memories." She explains, grumbling slightly. After a slight pause, she looks me over quickly. "Emma?" I look at her with concern.
"Yeah?" I ask quietly, swallowing my panic.
"You said eighteen, right?" Oh my God… what does that have anything to do with anything?
"Yeah, but why do you care about that? I thought you would have some weird question about me being a psycho for having weird dreams about my mom." I say, looking at her with confusion. She laughs at me, but it sounds breathless. That makes my concern grow.
"Oh Emma. When I said that memories were making my head hurt just twenty seconds ago, you didn't even bother to ask what memories." She says, fear and humor glinting her eyes. I look at her like she's grown a second head.
"Okay… what memories were you remembering?" I ask carefully, not sure I really want to know the answer.
"When I was under the curse, I had dreams. Dreams that I had long since forgotten about. The last time I had a dream like that was about eleven years ago. You would have been eighteen." I knew I didn't want to know the answer. "I got to watch my little girl grow up, I just didn't realize it." She says, tears gathering in her eyes.
"Wait, what?" I ask, flustered. Th-that can't be true. Those dreams were just one sided, weren't they?
"It looks like even in our dreams we were destined to find each other."
A/N: So, what'd you think? The dream idea will be explain a little more in the next chapter when Emma starts freaking out (as expected), but she's pretty good at hiding it. I hope you all liked it! Thanks so much for the reviews from last chapter. For a few seconds I was actually nervous that I wasn't going to get enough reviews. You guys came through, though, and I'm thankful for that! I'll try to keep my updates a bit more regular, but sometimes school gets in the way a bit. Love you all, and hope you have a great Thanksgiving! 3
~ladywolf101