A twelve year old Emma is transported to Storybrooke

Snow was curled up in her bed, hugging a pillow. She really had to get up. She had to feed Neal in just ten minutes again and they still had to find that Snow Queen. But it was all just too much, too hard. The past day's events were still running around in her head and she was having a really hard time letting it go. She had a great time. A wonderful time, really. But she just wanted more.

She could feel the bed moving as someone – she knew exactly who – climbed in. But she wasn't ready to face reality yet. She was holding her breath, she knew that, and she didn't let go until she heard a small, shy voice behind her.

"Mum?"

Snow forced her eyes open but didn't turn around to face her daughter. She let out a heavy breath, She wasn't supposed to be like that. Her daughter was right there so why was it so hard.

"Mum? Please," she heard Emma beg. And what kind of mother let her daughter beg with no reason? She slowly turned around, only to face her teary daughter.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mama," Emma broke down, and suddenly, Snow knew.

"Let's go over this again. I'm supposed to believe that my foster mother is some crazy psycho witch that had just transported me here to the future to meet my grown up self, who is a princess and, apparently, had found my parents, who are my grown up version's same age, and are none other than Snow White and Price Charming?"

"We'', his real name is David," Emma shrugged at her younger self. "Look, I know it sounds crazy as hell, I've been in your place two years ago".

"All right," younger Emma exclaimed. "But if you want me to go with it you're going to have to prove it to me. Prove that you're me".

Thankful for the fact that they were in the station, Emma got up and walked to where her personal box rested. While grabbing at it, she told Emma all about her adventure with a girl named Lilly, something she knew for a fact was still fresh in young Emma's memory. She pulled out items one after the other, presenting her younger self with her baby blanket, the old video camera and the pair of worn glasses.

"Fine," the twelve year old huffed, "I'll play along".

Emma sighed in relief. She had already called David to make sure Henry was at Regina's – because, really, she didn't want to know of the paradoxes their meeting would cause – and she really hoped her younger self would agree to play along. Because they really needed to go to a safer place and think of a plan.

"Good, so we can go home. But first I think I should tell you a few stuff," she said, sitting back down. "They're going to ask a lot of questions and be super overwhelming. I know that you're going to have a hard time meeting them, but you can trust me when I say you can trust them. It takes time to get used to it, hell, I'm not sure I'm used to it yet, so just… Tell me if it gets too much yeah?"

Young Emma nodded hesitantly, and Emma could feel the young girl's anxiety building. She knew herself in situation like this, and she was prepared for a lot of awkwardness. She walked out the station, closing the door behind them both and leading her younger self to the yellow bug.

"You're going to witness a lot of surprising things in the next few hours. Some you're going to feel embarrassed by, some you're probably going to love. Just remember that even though you're going to have to go back to the system eventually today or in the next few days, it's all going to get better".

Emma climbed the stairs to the flat, her younger self walking quietly behind her. She turned around to give the girl a last reassuring smile before she pushed the key in its place and opened the door. She prepared to shout a 'we're home', but they didn't even make it into the flat before Sow appeared in front of them, a worried expression on her face. Emma noticed her younger self wincing and taking a small step backwards.

"You need to be gentle with her," Emma whispered, Snow completely ignoring her, examining her from head to toe.

"You're both fine yeah? She didn't do anything?"

"We're good," Emma waved at her before turning to her younger self. "I know it's a little bit overwhelming but she means well", she said, eyeing her mother. "Go sit and I'll make us some—"

But she had no chance to finish her sentence. David was already there, handing her a mug of steaming hot cocoa with cinnamon and leading her to the sofa, handing her younger self a mug as well.

"Cinnamon?" younger Emma asked in disbelief, her eyes wide.

"Always," David replied with a cheeky smile, sitting in front of both girls and motioning for Snow to join him.

Emma looked at her parents, bubbling with curiosity. Embracing herself for what was going to come, she gave her younger self another good thing to remember.

"How about a pop-tart with that?" she asked; chucking at the very familiar eager nod her younger self gave her.

"Emma," Snow said in a stern voice, "I think it's a better idea if I make us all some dinner, no?"

"Mum," Emma sighed, trying her best to ignore her younger self's yelp of surprise. And oh, did she remember that feeling. That longing to be able to finally say those two little words every other kid she knew took for granted. Mum and Dad.

"Snow I think we've all had a long enough day to justify a pop-tart before dinner," David said quietly, smiling at young Emma with eyes full of emotions.

"Fine, fine," Snow laughed, shooting her hands in the air in defeat. "But don't get full; I'm planning on pasta and chicken". She gave both girls a knowing smile. They're favourite.

"Count me in as well princess," David called as Emma got up and walked to the kitchen. Her blush didn't go unnoticed, but he had decided he'd use her nickname in order so it was easier to understand which of his girl's versions he was talking to. After all, that was the easiest way. He turned to younger Emma, speaking softly. "How old are you?"

In the kitchen, Emma bit her lip. Her parents were dying to hug the little girl, kiss her head and call her sweetheart. But they were holding back, remembering the walls their daughter used to have.

"I'm twelve," younger Emma answered, now with more confidence.

"And do you know how you got here?"

"Way to be gentle Dad," Emma groaned as she walked into the living room again, handing both her father and her younger self a plate. "She has no idea what happened. And I was actually planning on us going after the snow queen again after we ate something".

"No way," Snow and David said in unison.

Emma rolled her eyes, looking at her younger self's surprised face. "You get used to that eventually," she smiled, before turning back to her parents. "I'm a grown up".

David crossed his arms over his chest with a disapproving look. "But you also have the responsibility over your twelve year old self. And it doesn't matter. I said no, and no means no. You're not going anywhere. Got it?"

"Dad," Emma sighed, "we need to find a way to send her back to her proper time before it creates a paradox".

"And we'll find another way," David nodded. "We'll use Regina's help, or Gold's, or, I don't care. I'm not sending two of you to handle that witch, princess".

At that same moment Neal chose to wake up, sending Snow up to get him and younger Emma to look at her grown up self with a questioning look.

"Our brother," Emma answered the unspoken question with loving eyes. She turned back to David with a defeated look. "We'll stay," she said with a smirk. "but you are sneaking us both another pop-tart before Mum comes back".

"Deal," David smirked, getting up to sneak up to the kitchen.

"Emma, there's nothing to be sorry about honey".

But Emma was stubborn. She shook her head, wiping at her tears. "You saw what you lost, and then I took her to Regina and ruined everything. I should have let her stay and leave myself. You should have had her here now, not me".

Snow smiled at her beautiful daughter, understanding that nothing, in fact, was ruined. Her hand rose to Emma's cheek and she pressed a gently kiss to her daughter's forehead.

"Oh, baby, don't you see? You gave me the chance to see who you were before, and then you showed me how brave you were, knowing perfectly well that the girl you were sending back was you, and that the life that waited for her were all but perfect. And I was left with my thirty year old, but still very much my baby-girl. I was being silly, and I'm the one that's sorry".

"It's you and Dad though," Emma said quietly, snuggling closer to her mother. "You both keep showing me that I can be your daughter, no matter how old I am".