So, I originally planned on including this inside I Won't Let Go, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt like it'd just make a better outtake for this story because it fits better here. I'm putting Emma through enough in the other, haha. This takes place sometime during the time jump, so Emma was 14. The other two outtakes have been Daddy Charming, this one is Mama Snow. It's also considerably less fluffy…

If Emma hadn't missed curfew, she never would've found it. If she hadn't insisted to grab ice cream with Ruby after the movie, even though she knew it would make her late, she wouldn't have come home to her parents waiting with their arms folded, stern looks across their faces. Mary wouldn't have told her that since she clearly needed to learn time management, then she could help her organize her and David's walk-in closet. The conversation could've been avoided, more emotional turmoil avoided.

"How do you have so many shoes?" Emma complained as she shoved yet another pair into a box.

Mary laughed. "Haven't you ever heard that shoes are a girl's best friend?"

"Still. I don't even understand how you walk in some of these things."

"One day, you'll learn."

"I've had enough problems with my ankle to last me a lifetime, I think not."

"Alright smarty pants, we're almost done. How about I get us some hot chocolate?"

"Sounds good." She realized that they were running out of wall space to stack the boxes. "Where do you want me to put these?"

"Just slide them on the lower shelf," Mary said before walking out.

Emma did as told and then saw another shoebox that they hadn't covered. She didn't think her mom had any other shoes that they had to put away, but she wasn't sure, so she pulled it out, lifting the lid. There wasn't a pair of heels in there, instead a little black leather journal. She recognized it, it was similar to the one that Archie gave her to write in. Had her mom taken it and hidden it from her? She picked it up and flipped through it. No, not her handwriting, her mother's. Just from glimpsing, Emma could tell her mother was writing with this when she and David were trying to get pregnant. She was going to put it back when the word foster care caught her eye. Had her mother written in there about her? She paused to read it, noticing the date was about a couple of months before she had been placed with them.

Tomorrow David and I start our foster care classes. I'm nervous, really nervous. I'm not scared of being able to love a child that isn't my blood, more so that I won't be what they need. Kids get put into the system for a variety of reasons. I just want to be a good mother. We talked about the age range we were hoping for. David's thinking the oldest the kid would be is 8 or 9, but he wouldn't mind taking in an older child. I don't know about taking in a teenager. The oldest I was thinking was 5 or 6. Could I really parent a teenager? I don't know. I just want this journey to end, I don't want to keep waiting. I just want to be a mom.

Emma stared at the page with wide eyes. Ever since she found out that her parents had started the foster process because they couldn't have kids, she wondered if she was just a second choice. She had shaken the thought away, they never acted like it. Blood wasn't made by family, she knew that. Her mother didn't need a child of her own blood to define being a mother.

But she hadn't wanted a teenager. She hadn't wanted Emma, at least that's how it seemed to the blonde. Mary had wanted a little kid, just like every other foster parent she had come across. All that crap about Emma still being her little girl, about it not mattering…it all seemed like a lie. She really was her mother's second choice.

The tears spiked to her eyes. She couldn't be there. Not anymore. She couldn't accept not being what her mom really wanted.

"Alright," Mary's voice came from behind her. "I think we just need to throw some stuff in the wash and we'll be…" She trailed off as Emma turned around, shaking. Mary was about to ask what was wrong, when she saw the journal in her daughter's hand and the pained look on her face. Mary's own paled and she set the mugs onto her dresser. "Emma…how did you…"

"I thought it was another shoebox we missed. Then I found this, it looks just like the journal Archie gave me for my dreams."

"Emma, wait…"

"I can't. I can't be here right now." She pushed the journal into her mother's hands and stormed out the door. Mary tried to follow her, but Emma was just too fast. Mary didn't even have to look down to see what Emma had read. She had never wanted her daughter to see it. Mostly because it was the most shameful thing she had ever wrote.

At the time, it had been the truth. She didn't think she could parent a teenager, she didn't think they would need much guidance. She also had (wrongfully) thought that the teens in the system probably weren't adoptable. She learned how wrong she was during the classes. Still, she had been hesitant. Until David brought the file to the diner, the one with the picture of her little girl. That very night when she went home, she threw it in the empty shoebox and put it on the shelf, determined that Emma would never see it. It had been over a year since she had written it and she had forgotten all about it. Had she remembered, she would have moved it again before Emma helped her. She knew she should've just burned it or gotten rid of the passage. Archie had given her the journal to help her cope with that part of her life and now it was hurting her daughter. She couldn't let Emma think she was unwanted.

She ripped out the page and shoved it into her purse before starting the search for her daughter. She didn't know where she would go, there were so many places. After calling Mal, Belle and Granny, ruling out all her possible friends, she went to the other place Emma went to when she was upset: the beach.

Sure enough, Mary found her daughter, sitting on the sand, knees drawn to her chest. As she got closer, she could tell her daughter was crying. It was a dagger to the mother's heart. She had caused those tears. She sat down next to her and tried to hug her, but got pushed away. She should've expected that. Mary wouldn't have wanted to hug herself in the situation.

"Emma…"

"Just go away," Emma whispered, her voice croaking. That's how Mary knew just how upset her daughter was. When Emma was pissed, she yelled. But when she was sad, devastated, she got so quiet. Just like she had been when they first met.

"Baby, you have to let me explain. I wrote this before I even knew you existed."

"You didn't want me," Emma said, looking over at her. It took all Mary had not to sweep her into her arms and not let go, but she knew that's not what her daughter wanted. "You didn't want a teenager, they were too much work. You only took me because I was the first kid that Helen threw at you."

"Oh Emma, that's not true. Sweets, when I wrote this, I didn't know a lot about the system or how it worked. It's why they make people take those classes. I learned how wrong I was to ever think that I couldn't handle it."

"But I still wasn't…wasn't what you wanted!" Emma was starting to hyperventilate. "You...you only fostered because you couldn't have a baby of your own! If…if you could, if Helen had placed a little kid with you, then you wouldn't have gotten me and then you would've had what you wanted! I was just…just your second choice!"

"Emma!" Mary put her hands on her daughter's face. "You were not a second choice, you are what I wanted! I know what you read tonight makes it seem otherwise, but that is the truth. I never once thought that you were a second choice and we didn't choose you because Helen didn't give us another option. I wanted you Emma, from the minute your father showed me your picture, I knew you were meant to be my daughter. All those things I thought, they didn't matter anymore. Yes, I pictured a little girl, my brain just didn't understand what my heart was trying to tell me there. I got my little girl and I wouldn't trade you for the world!"

Emma sniffled and Mary wiped her tears.

"How can I be enough? You wanted a baby and you got stuck with me."

"Oh baby, I didn't get stuck with you. Yes, I wanted a baby. Yes, I tried for a very long time to get pregnant." Mary was trying to find the right words, the ones to let Emma know how loved she was. "Okay, look at it this way. Whenever your father and I tell you that we feel bad because we weren't there when you were little, what do you tell us?"

"That fate didn't want me to have parents until I was 13."

"Right. And I think that fate wanted me to adopt, fate wanted me to find my beautiful baby girl. I wouldn't trade you to have a child that shared my blood. You are all I ever wanted, plus a million times more. You've taught me so much. I thought I knew what love was, but I don't think I really did until I became a mom. Of course I love your father, but this was different. My love for you, it's unconditional and I wouldn't have loved you anymore if I had carried you in my stomach or if you had came to us when you were younger."

Emma bit her lip. "Really?"

"Would it have made you love me any more than you do?"

"Of course not."

"There you go. I am so sorry that you read this, sweets. The night your father and I found out about you, I hid it in my closet because I felt so guilty for ever thinking like that. For ever thinking that I couldn't parent a teenager that I hadn't raised. You were never meant to see it. I haven't even thought about it since then, I promise you that. I would never, ever want to hurt you or make you feel this way and I am so sorry that I did." Mary was crying herself now, though she was trying to hide it from Emma. "I can't say they're just words, because words hurt." She pulled the page out of her bag along with a lighter she had bought. "And I can't take back these words, but I can get rid of them."

"Mom, you don't have to do this…"

"Yeah, I do. I was wrong for ever thinking these things and I was wrong for not destroying it before it could hurt you."

Mary lit the edge of the paper and watched it slowly begin to singe. When it was getting closer to her hand, she threw it a few feet away. Then she pulled Emma into her arms, hugging her tightly. Emma hugged her back just as tight, burying her head in her shoulder.

"You're my baby, nothing is ever going to change that. I promise. You are wanted, Emma Ruth Nolan. I'm your mother and I love you more than anything."

"I love you too, Mama," Emma whispered, clinging tighter to her.

They stayed like that for awhile, Mary soothingly rocking her daughter and whispering just how loved she was. She would never again let Emma feel that way, not if she could help it.

"Come on baby, let's go home. Daddy will be there soon, wondering where we are." She stood up, holding her hand out to Emma, who accepted it, still keeping their palms intertwined once they were walking. Emma rested her head upon her mom's shoulder, feeling safe and wanted. Her mom's words had hurt, but she knew she had hurt her mother with her own at other points. Words can't be taken back once they're out here, but sometimes other words can make them better.

Not sure how many more outtakes I'm going to make for this one, but I hope you guys don't mind them. As always, thanks for all the amazing reviews!