Wow, so it took forever, but I finally wrote a version of this chapter that I'm satisfied with! Super awesome special thanks to MickeySam from Tumblr for reading it over for me since I was so unsure about it. You have her to thank for the update today. :D
How excited are we all about Ginny and Josh? I only with this was the NEXT chapter, which has some Snowing going on, in honor of it! But alas this is not that chapter. Next time. ;)
"Good morning," I sang, shuffling from my bedroom into the kitchen where Emma was thankfully brewing a pot of coffee.
"Mornin', Mom," she muttered sleepily.
I froze in that moment, and stared back at her in confusion. "What did you just call me?"
Emma's puzzled look matched mine and I wondered if I was just hearing things. "I called you…Mom?"
So I wasn't hearing things. I opened my mouth to voice another question but Henry galloped down the stairs, distracting me. "What's for breakfast?"
All at once the confusion lifted, and I shook myself. For some reason I couldn't even tell what was wrong with me just a moment before.
"Cereal, kid," Emma answered Henry without taking her eyes off of me. "We're running late. Mom, are you feeling okay?"
I wasn't really, my head was pounding and I felt a little queasy, but I hated to worry my daughter for nothing, especially after she found me sobbing into my pillow like a broken-hearted teenager a few nights before. "Fine," I told her. "Still half asleep I think."
Emma smiled sympathetically and poured me some coffee.
Emma seemed to be thriving as Graham's deputy. She seemed comfortable – as comfortable as possible with the mayor breathing down her neck. And I knew a lot of it had to do with how much she liked the sheriff.
The dance they did around each other was at once funny and adorable. But Emma had been burned so many times by men, and she was just so wary. "The only man I need is my little man," she would say often to keep from even thinking about a relationship.
And then she came home late one night, tossing her coat viciously onto the chair by the door.
"Emma?" I murmured from my bed, peeking out at her from the crack in the curtain.
"Hey," she said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"Come here," I waved her over, setting my book down. "What's wrong?"
Emma brushed past the curtains into my room, but didn't sit down, just rocked on the balls of her feet with her hands in her back pockets. "Nothing, just been a long night."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Is it Graham?"
Her eyes flashed with irritation that I'd guessed, and something else, something that made me want to wrap her in blankets and feed her cocoa and take a bat to certain sheriff. "Know how I said he was in Regina's pocket?" she sneered. "He's in a hell of a lot more than that."
With that she stormed out and all but ran up the stairs and I flopped back into my pillows in dismay, feeling a little sick to my stomach at the thought of Graham and Regina together that way. It really wasn't his fault. Any feelings he may have had for Regina must have been fabricated by the curse. What other explanation was there?
The following morning Emma was in no better spirits when she stomped down the stairs, pulling her hair back into a ponytail so violently I worried a little that she'd pull her hair out. Or, more realistically, that she'd cut it off in a flash of temper.
Before I could think of something comforting to say, her eyes narrowed in on a bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase on the counter.
"Really?" she hissed, snatching the flowers up and tossing them in the trash before I could speak.
"Hey!" I protested. "What are you doing?"
"If Graham thinks he can win me over with flowers…"
I frowned and looked down at the poor, victimized bouquet. "Actually…those were mine."
Emma's eyebrows shot up, so did Henry's who until that moment was absorbed in his book.
"From who?" Emma asked in utter surprise that would have been insulting if it wasn't so understandable. "Not..." she glanced at Henry uncertainly. "David?"
"No," I waved her off, trying not to even think of him. I'd been avoiding the diner for days, ever since my run-in with Kathryn. "From…uh…Marco."
Emma's eyebrows, already up, reached her hairline. "Marco? The guy August works for? Are you guys…"
"No!" I exclaimed, face hot. "Nothing like that. I think…" I shrugged in embarrassment. "I think he might have a crush on me, that's all," actually, he'd sent the flowers under the guise of being gentlemanly to his employee's mother, but it had come with a note suggesting a friendly dinner. But he was clearly rather infatuated by me, and even August saw it though he chose to ignore it. I was distressed, unwilling to hurt the poor man's feelings, and not sure how to go about rejecting him nicely. After all, surely he wouldn't still feel that way after he knew who I really was?
"Well…" Emma stammered. "He…uh…Marco seems like a really good man, Mom…" I could tell she didn't truly care for the idea of me and Marco together, but bless her heart if she wasn't determined to support me anyway.
"She can't date Marco!" Henry exclaimed with a wrinkled nose. "Her True Love is David. Prince Charming!"
"Henry," Emma snapped with a warning tone. "Don't start. Go upstairs and get changed for school."
Henry looked ready to protest, but zipped his lip when his mother gave him "the look."
"I don't feel that way about Marco," I told Emma quietly once Henry was gone. "He's very nice…but I just…don't…"
Emma half-smiled and nodded.
"Now," I continued, changing the subject. "Why are you so upset?"
"Upset? I'm not upset."
I scoffed. "Uh, the floral abuse tells a different story."
"What story is that?"
I smiled understandingly. "The one that's obvious to everyone, except, apparently you. That you have feelings for Graham."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on…"
"Emma," I reached out and rubbed her arm. "I know you're trying to be cautious…"
"I have a son," she interrupted. "I have to be cautious."
"And that's completely understandable. But honey, do you think that maybe you're using Henry as an excuse to hide behind your wall?"
"What wall?"
I sighed. "The one you've built around your heart. I tried to raise you to believe that love is the most wonderful thing on Earth. Why can't you let it in?"
All of a sudden, Emma was scowling at me. "Did you? Because what I remember learning is that there are two men in this world that can be counted on. Fred and Auggie. You say I hide behind a wall? What about you, Mom? A sweet, kind, interesting man sends you flowers and you're immediately clamming up and saying everything you can think of to brush it off. And what about Jim? You loved Jim, Mom, and don't even bother trying to deny it. You loved him but refused to be with him. I'm twenty-eight years old and beside Jim you've never been with anyone. No one in all those years. Do you remember when I was twenty-one and kept introducing you to my 'friends'?"
I blinked, completely thrown by the sudden reversal of lecturing. I did remember Emma suddenly making a couple of female friends who were older than her and convincing me to go out with them for drinks. "Yes…"
Emma smiled humorlessly. "They were lesbians…I was trying to see if maybe that was what you wanted."
My jaw dropped. "You…I…Emma, I'm not…"
"I know you're not, Mom," her voice softened but the accusation was still plain. "But if I have a wall, it's because you taught me how to build it."
Henry descended the steps slowly, dressed and ready for school. With the size of our apartment, I was sure he heard everything. His presence effectively halted our conversation though, thankfully.
But I felt defeated. Emma was totally right. While trying to uphold my vows and hang on to True Love, I'd allowed my daughter to see me pull away from every single possibility of romance her whole life.
Stung, but having nothing to argue with, I gathered up the innocent flowers and put them back into the vase. Then set the vase in an out-of-the-way spot because Emma was still angry, and my vases tended to get broken when that happened.
I went about the rest of my day in a funk. On top of that my headache was back and worse than ever. I decided that I probably needed to make an appointment with…the only doctor I knew of in town, Dr. Whale. I didn't much care for the man, though, and having no clue who he really was didn't help. I would have much preferred to see Doc, but in this land he was a mailman of all things, so I didn't think it would go over too well if I walked up to him and suddenly started talking about my health.
It was making it hard to concentrate though, and I was digging frantically in my purse for some ibuprofen when Graham stumbled into my classroom while the kids were at lunch.
I winced when a sudden shot of pain rang through my skull, but managed a smile for him anyway.
"Graham, hi," I said. "Can I help you?"
"Mary Margaret, can I ask you something?" he said without preamble.
I wondered if this had something to do with Emma. "Of course."
"Uh…I think we know each other."
He wore an expression that looked just as pained and confused as I felt. "Of course we do."
"No, no, not from here. Not from Storybrooke. From another life."
I weakly smiled. "How many lives have you had, Sheriff?"
Graham walked further into the room and I could see that there was definitely something wrong with him. I felt so sick myself though, that it was hard to let it fully register.
"Have I ever tried to hurt you?" he asked me, and he sounded so lost it just sort of made me want to hug him.
"Of course not," I told him earnestly, noting his flushed and sweat-sheened face. "Graham, are you feeling okay? I think there must be a bug going around."
"Do you believe in other lives?"
"You mean like Heaven?"
"No, I mean past lives."
"You've been talking to Henry."
"Henry?"
My headache was starting to ease, so I was able to focus more on how unwell he looked. "Mm. He believes we're all characters in fairytale, we just don't remember…" I reached out my wrist, like I would with one of my students, and felt his forehead. "Graham, you are burning up. I think you need to go home and get some rest."
Graham shook himself, as if coming out of a daze, and nodded. "You're right. I will. Thank you Mary Margaret, sorry for bothering you."
It was late when I got home, having had tutoring and needing to go grocery shopping. Henry jumped up when I wrestled through the door, helping me with the bags.
"Nana!" he exclaimed impatiently. "Where have you been?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I said, meaning to be playful but it came out rather short-tempered. I was exhausted. "Did your grandparents call this afternoon?"
"Nana, Graham was here."
I stopped putting away groceries to turn to him fully. "Is he okay? Is Emma?"
"He was asking about the book," he said excitedly. "He's remembering, Nana! He's the Huntsman who saved you, and now he's remembering!"
"Remembering what?"
He groaned in frustration. "That he's the Huntsman! Did he talk to you? You need to tell him you believe."
"He did talk to me…" I said dazedly.
"He did? Then why didn't you tell him?"
I felt woozy, but managed to sit at on a barstool before Henry could notice. "I don't know. Why didn't I?"
"Nana?" his voice had grown quieter. "Are you okay?"
Just then the phone rang, and Henry rushed to answer it. "Auggie!" he exclaimed into the receiver. "Hey, I have to tell you something, Graham…huh? Okay, okay, she's right here," he held up the phone, beckoning me over. "He wants to talk to you, says it's important."
I took the phone from him. "Hey."
"Mom," Auggie sounded out of breath. "You gotta get to the hospital. Now."
My heart leapt into my throat. "What's wrong?! Emma?"
"Not Emma," he said and I gasped in relief. "Graham."
I remembered how sick he looked earlier and my stomach dropped. "Is he okay?"
"I don't know. I saw the ambulance pull up to the station. Emma went with him…she was hysterical. I'm on my way there now."
I was hanging up before he even finished his sentence and grabbed Henry's hand to haul him out the door, ignoring his questions and the frozen food melting on the counter.
I somehow managed to get to the hospital at the same time as August.
"Stay with Henry," I told him, gently pushing my grandson toward him.
"But I want to go with you!" Henry protested.
"Stay, Henry!"
I marched past the ER reception desk, heedless of the objections from the woman sitting there.
I didn't stop until I saw my daughter, sitting on the floor with her head in her hands.
And I did stop then, breathing in relief now that I could see with my own eyes she was unhurt. But something in her position, or perhaps it was just my instincts, told me something was very, very wrong.
"Emma?" I spoke softly so not to startle her. I crouched down beside her, resting my hand on her back. "Emma, honey, talk to me."
When she looked up, it was with the most devastated, anguished expression I'd ever seen on her. "Mama…" her face crumbled, and she all but fell into my embrace.
I hadn't seen my brave Emma Swan cry since Henry was born. And that night I had to hold her in my arms while she sobbed her heart out and I just kept praying that I'd never have to do it again.
He was gone.
It was too surreal to be true. Graham was a healthy, strong, active thirty-four-year-old. Definitely the last person anyone would believe would have a heart attack.
But that's what they told us. That's what Emma believed.
Henry told me that when Graham went to visit him, he'd said that Regina had his heart, and the fact was supported by Henry's book.
How did I not know that?
And why, why did I not help him when he came to me, clearly distressed and remembering things that made no sense to him.
I couldn't wallow in my own regret and confusion though, because Emma needed me.
Things were getting worse, people were getting hurt. Regina had to be stopped.
