I seriously could not believe the response I got from the last chapter! Thank you so much for your encouragement! I appreciate it so deeply, and again, really sorry for the lack of updates recently.
This chapter was one I had envisioned when I had first started writing this story, so it was both easy and difficult to write. Hope you enjoy!
Slight trigger warning for this chapter. Nothing too major, but just a heads up.
Chapter 21 - Safe and Sound
Just close your eyes.
You'll be alright.
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound.
The kitchen was silent other than the sounds of the wooden spoon occasionally hitting the side of the bowl. Mary Margaret tried to relax as she stirred pancake mix, but couldn't get rid of the bad, unsettling feeling setting in her gut.
Suddenly the phone rang sharply, and Mary Margaret jumped in shock. She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head at herself for getting a fright over nothing. She quickly wiped her hands dry on a tea towel and picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mary Margaret? It's Sheriff Humbert."
"Graham?" Mary Margaret questioned, wondering why he sounded so official. 'Sheriff Humbert?' "How are you?"
"Not too great," He admitted, Irish accent coming out strongly over the phone. "I actually have some bad news."
Mary Margaret stood up straight, frowning, and pressed the phone firmly to her ear. "What's wrong? Is it something to do with Emma's previous foster father?"
"Actually... yes."
Mary Margaret waited for a moment as she heard the Sheriff take a deep breath. She glanced towards the stairs, silently praying that Emma wouldn't come down for another moment before Graham finally said, "When I arrived at the station this morning, Mr. Black was missing from his cell. There were no signs of a break out. The cell door was wide open when I got there."
Mary Margaret's eyes widened with shock and her heart pounded. "But... how did he manage to escape?"
She could hear the stress and slight panic in his voice. "I'm not sure. There are no signs of a break out of his cell or the station. It would seem as though he used a key. Or possibly someone else had a copy of the key. Since the Mayor and I are the only two people in the town to have a key to the station, it would be fairly hard to obtain a copy."
Wait a second - Regina had a copy of the key?
"What do you recommend we should do? Should Emma and I come to the station?" Mary Margaret asked, brushing off the Mayor piece of information for the time being.
"Stay inside. Lock the doors. Don't go outside unless you have to. I'll be around later today, I just have to advise the Mayor about this and begin my search for him."
"Is..." Mary Margaret was almost afraid to ask. She took a deep breath. "Is he armed?"
Graham sighed and Mary Margaret imagined that he had closed his eyes, his posture tense. "I can't be sure."
Mary Margaret closed her eyes. "This was exactly what Emma was worried about."
"What was I worried about?"
Mary Margaret spun around in time to see Emma in fresh clothes walking down the last few steps of the staircase.
She held up a hand to the girl. "Um, hold on a second, Emma." And then, to Graham, she said, "Alright. Thank you for letting us know. We'll see you soon."
She hung up the phone and placed it on the counter top.
"Come, sit down, Emma." She gestured toward the couch at the girl's inquisitive glance and sat down.
Emma warily followed Mary Margaret's lead and sat beside her. "What's going on?"
Mary Margaret frowned, trying to find the best way to explain this to her foster daughter, and after a moment, rested her upturned palms on Emma's knees. She waited a second before the girl placed her smaller hands into Mary Margaret's.
"You're going to have to stay home from school today."
"Okay," Emma accepted although not without an inquisitive expression on her face. "But why?"
"The Sheriff just called with some bad news," Mary Margaret echoed Graham's earlier words. She quickly explained, deciding the best approach was the direct one. "Your previous foster father, he, uh... he managed to get out of his cell."
"What?" Emma exclaimed, looking like she was about to jump off of the couch. "How?"
"We're not sure," Mary Margaret admitted. "But he has. It's going to be okay, though. Graham told us to stay inside and keep the doors locked and we'll be fine."
The shock vanished in Emma's eyes and was immediately replaced by fear.
"Are you sure he got out?"
Mary Margaret could hear the panic in her voice. "Emma..."
"You... you told me he wouldn't get out! That I was safe here."
"You are safe here," Mary Margaret quickly told her, trying to reassure her.
"No, I'm not!" Emma shot back, trying to pull her hands away from Mary Margaret's. "Let me go! I've got to get away from him!"
"Emma, sweetheart, I promise you the best thing you could do is to stay here!" Mary Margaret let go of Emma's hands and grasped onto her shoulders to keep her still. She began to feel desperate as she saw the girl in front of her crumble. "Please, honey, calm down."
"He's going to get me!" Tears gathered in Emma's eyes. She was still trying to pull away from Mary Margaret. "He's going to take me back!"
Mary Margaret gasped as Emma tore away from her, and ran towards the front door. Somehow she managed to get to the door before Emma did and quickly stood in front of it to block her from leaving.
"Emma, stop! If you go out there, you are putting yourself at risk."
"No, I won't!" She tried to get around Mary Margaret but the woman grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Shh... Emma, you're safe here," Mary Margaret repeated firmly and Emma struggled to pull away, pushing at Mary Margaret's arms.
"He'll come here and find me! He always does..."
"Did you tell him our address?" Mary Margaret frowned, knowing that Emma wouldn't have, but still had to make sure. She felt Emma shake her head and went on to say, "If he doesn't know where we live, then there's no way of finding us. Do you understand? If you go out there, you'll be putting yourself at risk! No; you'll be putting both of us at risk!"
Emma finally slumped in her grasp and Mary Margaret readjusted her arms from holding her tightly to relaxing and threading a hand through her hair.
"It's okay..." Mary Margaret cooed.
"I'm sorry," Emma whispered. She reached up and around Mary Margaret to clutch at the back of her shirt and Mary Margaret felt the girl press her cheek against her shoulder.
"You don't have anything to be sorry about. It's your foster father's fault," The woman soothed, rocking them slowly.
"But... What if he does come here?" Emma's small voice rose from Mary Margaret's shoulder.
Mary Margaret grasped Emma by the shoulders and gently pushed her away from her body. She reached up and held the girl's cheeks in her hands, bending slightly at the knee to get to her level.
"If he somehow manages to find us, then I will do everything in my power to protect you, my sweet girl," Mary Margaret spoke fiercely, sealing the promise with a kiss to Emma's forehead.
Emma was looking more relaxed and when Mary Margaret pulled back she thought she caught a hint of a smile on the girl's face. "Okay."
The room afterwards was quiet. Mary Margaret had brought Emma a blanket and after wrapping her tightly in it she had called the school to let them know of the situation. They had advised her that they had been forewarned about the dangerous criminal and had the school closed for the time being. She could have kicked herself of her foolishness. Of course they would have been warned about something as serious as this. After her phone call she had returned to her batter and finished making pancakes. Emma was still sitting on the couch, looking miserable with red-rimmed eyes. Mary Margaret felt her heart tug painfully at the sight and after placing the pancakes on a plate, she brought them over to her and offered Emma the small stack. The girl shook her head.
"Please, Emma, you have to eat," Mary Margaret pleaded. "Come on..."
"I'm really not that hungry," Emma whispered.
Mary Margaret studied her for a moment before accepting that Emma was too nervous to eat. Placing the plate back on the countertop, she went back to the couch and sat next to Emma, pressing her palm to the girl's back.
"I know that everything seems scary right now, but it will be okay, sweetheart. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep." The words were spoken quietly without any anger or malice.
Mary Margaret frowned. "I will keep this promise. Nothing or nobody is going to hurt you while I'm around."
Emma opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the phone ringing. Mary Margaret pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to the cordless phone, looking at the number.
"Who is it?" Emma's tentative voice rose from the couch and she bit her lip.
Mary Margaret gave her a knowing smile before pressing the button to answer the phone and greeting, "Hello, David."
"Hey, Mary Margaret, is everything okay?" David's voice sounded slightly panicked as he got straight to the point. "My colleague at the animal shelter told me that both schools are closed down."
"Closed down? Oh," Mary Margaret winced as she realised his panic at having no knowledge of the situation. "I'm so sorry, David, I forgot to let you know what was happening."
"Well, what is happening?" David's voice was worried. "I wasn't sure if it was a teacher's strike or something serious. Are you and Emma okay?"
"Yes, but..." Mary Margaret chanced a glance at Emma, who had resumed her worried lip biting and was fiddling with the blanket. The woman quickly walked into her bedroom, out of Emma's hearing range, and explained the situation to David.
"And he's escaped?" Mary Margaret had to pull the phone away from her ear at David's raged exclamation.
"Yes... And now Emma is absolutely miserable, and Graham said that he'll be over later, and... I'm not sure how to help her," Mary Margaret finished feeling quite pitiful.
"Well, how did she react when you told her?"
"She, um... she had a panic attack and tried to leave."
"Do you want me to come over?"
"No, no, I think we should be okay," Mary Margaret tried to reassure, although not feeling very confident. "But thank you."
"Of course. Just as long as I know you're safe." She could almost hear David's smirk as he explained, "I mean, after all it is the duty of Prince Charming to save Snow White."
"Oh, please! You haven't even read the book!" Mary Margaret laughed. "Don't you know that Snow clocks Charming in the head with a rock after stealing his mother's ring?"
"She steals the ring from Prince Charming's mother's finger?" David sounded so appalled at the notion that Mary Margaret had to slap a hand over her mouth so that he wouldn't hear her giggles.
"No, I promise that it was more valiant and noble than that," She reassured after swallowing her laughter. "One day we'll sit down with Emma and she can read us the rest of the book."
"Did you find it a bit strange that she didn't want us to read the ending?" David asked, his voice turning serious but there still remained light traces of humour.
"Well... I guess. But then in the end she did tell us. She just didn't show us the pictures."
"...Mary Margaret?"
Mary Margaret snapped her head around to look at the new voice. Emma was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, blanket abandoned on the couch.
"Oh, sorry," She quickly apologised at seeing that Mary Margaret was still on the phone. "It's not important."
"No, Emma, hold on," Mary Margaret called to the quickly retreating girl.
"Go, Mary Margaret. I'll talk to you later," David reassured.
Mary Margaret smiled even though she knew that he couldn't see it through the phone.
Emma quickly stepped out from Mary Margaret's bedroom and tore up the stairs towards her own bedroom as quietly as she could. With any luck, she may not have bothered Mary Margaret. Her ribs still ached at the movement of running and she pressed a hand to the left side, wondering how she could have forgotten the injury. Now inside her bedroom, she yanked aside the sheets of her bed and jumped in, pulling them around her body tightly. They felt colder than normal, and she guessed that was because they had been unused for the past few days.
"Emma?" She heard Mary Margaret call out her name and pulled the sheets over her head. She didn't want to bother Mary Margaret any more than she had already.
"Honey?" Although it had muffled the sound, the blankets still weren't enough to block out the woman's sweet voice. She heard the obvious tell-tale signs of her footfalls on the stairs and knew it would only be a matter of seconds before she was found out. Sure enough, a moment later a hand landed softly on her blanket covered hip and rested there.
"Emma? Are you okay?" Mary Margaret's tentative voice made its way through the blankets. Emma shook her head.
"No."
"Do you want to talk?"
Emma shook her head once more.
"Please, Emma. Come out of there."
Emma sighed. She could almost see the kicked puppy dog look on Mary Margaret's face by the tone of her voice. She reached up, pulled the sheet off of her head and sat up.
Mary Margaret smiled lovingly at her. "There you are."
Emma ducked her head as she felt her cheeks heat up. "I didn't mean to interrupt you while you were on the phone. I just..." She trailed off.
Mary Margaret frowned. "'You just' what?"
"I just felt scared." Emma felt her face brighten in embarrassment at her own words and ducked her head.
"Oh, honey..." Mary Margaret reached out and tucked a few strands of hair behind the girl's ear. She moved on the bed to sit closer to Emma. "Please don't feel that you are burdening me. I'd rather that you talk to me about how you are feeling than bottling them up. I'm not angry with you."
"You're not?" Emma asked, her voice small.
Mary Margaret shook her head. "Of course not."
"But I interrupted your phone call."
"Emma, sweetheart, you come first right now," Mary Margaret explained, her face full of honesty. "You will always come first."
Emma stared down at her hands and blinked the slowly building tears back.
"I guess I just..." She took a breath, her voice catching as she admitted, "I'm not- I'm not used to someone putting me first."
Emma raised her eyes to meet Mary Margaret's, and was once again taken aback at the obvious love and care she saw in them. She was unable to help herself any longer and reached up to wrap her arms around the woman's shoulders. She heard Mary Margaret take a small breath and no more than a second later, a pair of arms were wrapped around her back, one hand pressed into her hair.
"Oh, Emma..." Mary Margaret's voice sounded slightly teary. "You'll have to get used to it. I'm always going to put you first. That's what parents do."
Emma pressed her face into Mary Margaret's shoulder and smiled through her tears.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, interrupting their moment and Emma pulled away from the warmth and safety that was Mary Margaret.
"That will be the Sheriff," Mary Margaret reassured Emma at her startled expression. She stood up from the bed, and Emma hastily untangled her legs from the sheets to follow the woman down the stairs. At the bottom step, she stood there and watched as Mary Margaret reached out a hand to unlock the door.
And that's when time stood still.
Emma watched as the door swung open sharply, Mary Margaret barely having any time to avoid being hit by it. She watched as a large man dressed in thick clothes took a step inside. She saw his hair matted to his head from sweat. She saw his shaking hands, she saw his scruffy beard. She saw his smirk.
And then she recognised him.
Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the lithe smile. It was the same sinister smirk that he gave her when he was about to hit her.
Her foster father.
Emma bit down on her lip sharply, the motion all she could do to not scream out. She couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from her living nightmare, but finally forced herself to draw her attention to the object in his tight grasp.
A gun.
Emma felt her insides freeze in fear, and she clutched the stair post in fright as he laid his eyes on her. He was panting, his eyes wide and face red, giving him a maniacal appearance.
"Well, well. Emma," He sneered through his heavy breathing. "Look at you. All put together and whole. Nice and healthy." His fingers tightened around the gun. "What do you say we change that?"
"Get out."
Emma snapped her eyes away from the monster in front of her to the forgotten woman to the other side of the door post. Mary Margaret. Emma had never seen her with such a fierce and angry expression.
"Excuse me?" Her foster father, not even bothering to turn around and look at the woman, laughed out.
"You heard me. Get out," Mary Margaret practically growled. She took a step closer towards Emma and her foster father suddenly became aware of how serious the woman was.
"Hey, hey, stay where you are, lady!" He shouted at her, and turned to face her. He raised the gun up with one hand and pointed it at Emma. "Unless you want me to blow her head off then I wouldn't take another step if I were you!"
The man who had previously been Emma's foster father was armed. That was the first thing Mary Margaret had realised when he had stepped into the apartment. The second thing was that they were outnumbered. Two against four with the gun acting as two extra people.
After the man had pointed the gun at Emma, Mary Margaret had quickly raised her hands in surrender, shooting Emma a fearful look.
"I thought you'd listen," He snarled. "And don't think I haven't forgotten about your attack on me in the jail cell." He turned back to Emma. "But first it's your turn."
"How did you get out?" Emma asked him, ignoring his previous words. Her panic-filled face betrayed her steady voice.
"I had a... friend help me," The man supplied, seemingly happy to provide answers to Emma's questions for now. "She gave me keys and the gun." He twirled the gun in his hands as if it were nothing but a pencil and Mary Margaret couldn't help but draw back to her nightmare barely a few months back. She had never expected it to become a reality.
"You probably want to know why I'm back, right?" Emma's foster father supplied the next question for Emma, and the girl nodded after a second of hesitation. Mary Margaret took the chance to take a few quiet steps closer to Emma while his eyes were fixed on the girl.
"I probably know the answer," Emma's voice was full of false confidence and Mary Margaret's heart went out to her foster daughter. Her brave girl.
"You do, do you?" He asked, his voice intrigued. He took a few steps closer. "Tell me."
"You want to take me back," Emma's voice was shaking, and she gripped the post even tighter, her knuckles white with fear. "To live with you again."
Her foster father stopped moving for a moment and after a second's pause, he threw his head back and started to laugh. The gesture made Mary Margaret's blood boil in anger and she took a few steps closer.
"You expect me to take you back?" He cackled, his gun hand unwavering. "I have news for you! I'm not here to take you back!"
Emma's eyes widened as he held the gun up to level with her eyes.
"I'm here to kill you."
He smiled at her, almost apologetically before his finger moved back with intent to pull the trigger.
Mary Margaret's heart stopped, but her brain didn't. Somewhere deep inside of her was a voice.
Her voice.
And it was screaming.
"Emma. Her name is Emma."
"I can't... have this baby now!"
"The wardrobe. It only takes one."
"We have to believe that she'll come back for us!"
"We have to give her her best chance!"
"Goodbye, Emma..."
"No!"
And Snow charged toward her daughter. Her legs pumped hard. Her arms reached out. She shoved Emma out of the way of the bullet and was thrown back at the force of the little metal weapon entering her chest. She collapsed against the stairs, the pain barely registering in her mind as the flood of memories of two separate lives filtered through her. Her head lolled back and she tried to focus her eyes on the ceiling.
"No! You stupid bitch!" She heard Emma's old foster father scream out in rage. "How dare you?!"
"Stop!" Another voice called out in authority. "Put the weapon down!" A heartbeat. "I said put the weapon down!"
Suddenly, Emma's face floated above hers and she realised that her hand was being held in a trembling grasp. She weakly squeezed it in return, the rush of noise around her steadily growing stronger.
"Mary Margaret, please..." Emma's voice was shaky and broken. A tear dripped onto Snow's cheek. "Please... You can't die."
"Put your hands behind your back." The voice continued in the background and Snow heard the tell-tale signs of handcuffs clicking. She let out a shaky breath. Her daughter was safe.
"Are you hurt?" Snow asked, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a thick, wet gurgle.
"No. No, no, no, no. Please," Emma's voice had started to grow hysterical and Snow heard footsteps near her head. A nearby voice asked, "Is she okay?"
"No! My mom - foster mom - she was... she was shot..."
Emma's head disappeared from Snow's view for a moment before reappearing again along with a few other people in uniform. Pressure was applied to her chest and she gasped in pain, her lungs rattling from the thick liquid inside of her. She sat up slightly for a second before collapsing back against the stairs.
"Stay still!" She was advised by the woman pressing down on her chest. "I'm just trying to stop the bleeding."
But the more pressure that was applied against her wound, the more she felt her life leave her. She turned her head to look at her daughter, whose eyes were focused strongly on her.
"Emma. My sweet Emma. You've grown up so much," She tried to say, but the words refused to leave her lips. She felt the liquid from her chest enter into her throat and she coughed painfully, spitting some of it onto herself. Blood.
Emma shook her head quickly, her eyebrows furrowed in concern as tears continued to flow. She choked back a sob. "Mary Margaret, you're not breathing properly. Just breathe. Focus on me."
"Em...ma..." She managed to get out. Emma leaned in closer, angrily brushing away the tears from her face. Snow felt tears leave her own eyes and trail down the sides of her face. "I'm sor-"
She coughed painfully, hacking up more blood before her head fell sharply against the stairs. Her vision clouded over with darkness, and Emma screamed out her cursed name in despair as her eyes rolled back in her head and everything went black.
Snow's eyes snapped open and she lifted her head from her arms where she had slumped over at the table. She took a heaving breath and quickly glanced at her surroundings. Where was she? She took in the kitchen bench, the old, painted brick walls and the small staircase. Her... cursed self's apartment? Her heart leaped in excitement as the realisation hit her. The curse was broken! She had her memories back! Had it really been twenty eight years? And then the excitement faded and her heart sank. Had her baby finally broken the curse? Her twenty eight year old daughter who was longer a baby.
She pushed herself up from the table and as she did, her hand brushed against something.
A book. A big book with the words 'Once Upon a Time' scrawled in beautiful cursive on the front cover. Lying next to it was a pen and a piece of paper.
No. A note.
Snow picked it up and began to read.
'Snow,
I don't have time to explain everything, but trust me.
The curse hasn't been broken yet. Rumplestiltskin saved a potion in case of an emergency and it has been used to wake you up from the curse. But only for a short while.
Things have changed. Rumplestiltskin's prophecy was wrong. Your daughter, Emma, is here in Storybrooke. The curse will be broken earlier than planned but only if things continue smoothly. Your daughter is now three years old and is in need of some hope. I've gotten her this far, but now it's up to you. You've temporarily awoken from the curse because you have to deliver a message to her. Get this book to the primary school, but write the high school's address in the front cover. I'll make sure she finds it somehow. It's vital that you write the address in. It needs to be your writing. It will bring hope to her someday, I promise. Then, write a message to her in the front page and things will work out the way they are supposed to.
But hurry. There's no telling how much longer you'll be awake for.'
Snow stared in disbelief at the note, quickly re-reading it before placing it down. It had only been three years? Now that she had woken up, it had already felt like a long, lonely lifetime had passed and nothing had been achieved. But now she had a chance to do something. She could give a message to her daughter.
Holding back a sob, she picked up the pen and pulled the book towards herself. She flicked open the front cover and quickly wrote the high school's address. But why the primary school, or even high school? Emma was three, and very clearly not old enough to be in high school. Would it take that long for the curse to break? Another ten years, or possibly more? Her eyes welled up with tears. Her baby was only three.
What do you tell a three year old to give her hope?
She began to cry for their family's lost future, and pressed the pen's tip to the middle of the front cover of the book.
'Never stop believing.
- Love, Mom and Dad'