Author's note: I'm back! Even though the show has long ended, I've made it my goal to finish this story. I hope you are still out there reading this!
Disclaimer: parts of the speech in this chapter are from the episode "We are Both."
Chapter 59
If she kept her eyes closed, everything was fine.
That is, if she ignored the feathery feeling of the quilt that was slightly too light, enough that she'd curled into a ball in order to feel warm enough throughout the night. (She should've brought the heavy weighted blanket from her bed at home). Or the floral smell emanating from the room; it wasn't entirely unpleasant, just unwelcome. Or the pillow that was just too fluffy enough that she'd had a hard time getting comfortable.
Overall, there was nothing actually wrong with the bed, but like the smell of the air (cool and crisp instead of slightly apple scented) and the annoying chirp of the birds outside the window, it all served to remind her that she was in a strange bed, in a strange place.
But if she didn't open her eyes and tried to tune out everything around that just screamed that this was wrong, she could pretend for a while longer that she was still at home. It was a Saturday; on Saturdays, she and Regina sat together for a lazy breakfast, which Emma had begun cooking in her efforts to learn the basics, and read the paper together, or ate on the patio if it was nice out. On Saturdays, after swearing and struggling through her math homework, Emma rode her bike to meet Jasmine at the docks or at the movies, where inevitably a larger group of her classmates showed up after a while. On Saturdays, she always ended the night by splitting an order of onion rings at Granny's, bringing the rest home.
On Saturdays….
Emma curled her fists and tried to shake the thoughts from her mind. There were no Saturdays anymore, not in the way she was used to. Were schools even open anymore? Was Granny's? And what had happened in Jasmine, who was surely a completely different person?
She forced her eyes open, forced herself to stare at the wooden slats of the ceiling above her, the sunlight streaming out through the curtains next to the bed. Not entirely an unpleasant way to wake up, but disappointing all the same.
If she hadn't broken the curse, if she hadn't started digging for Storybrooke's hidden truths all those months back…
Low murmurs from downstairs floated up to the loft. Mary Margaret and David. Her mother and father. Like everything else in this quirky apartment (that some may refer to as "charming", but Emma honestly had never seen someone purposely furnish their home with such a wide array of bird themed items before), it didn't sit right, and left a strange taste in her mouth.
At least they hadn't insisted she call them Mom and Dad.
A knock on the door caused her to sit upright, as if readying herself for a room inspection. Some things never changed. "Emma?"
Emma didn't respond as she waited for the door to fly open on its own; when Regina knocked on her door, its purpose was more to announce her forthcoming arrival rather than to politely inquire whether she could enter, so Emma didn't see the point.
A second knock came a few moments later, a little more hesitantly this time. "Honey? Are you awake?"
"Oh! Yes. Sorry." She straightened her hair and the blankets. "Come in!"
Mary Margaret slowly pushed open the door. Even though it was probably the ass crack of dawn (9 am), she smiled brightly, glowing from within. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"No, I was already up," she responded. "Sorry. Mo—um, Regina usually barges in without warning."
"Ah." If Mary Margaret noticed Emma's slip of the tongue, she didn't mention it. "Well, I wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready. We weren't sure what time you'd be awake, so I came to check on you."
"Great. I'll be down in a bit."
Mary Margaret nodded. Her eyes swept over the room, from the messy bed to Emma's suitcase in the corner, clothes spilling out haphazardly. "You know, we have plenty of room in the closet. If you want, I could help you put some of your things away."
Emma looked down. Compared to the neat room, her suitcase was foreign, ugly even, and certainly out of place. The irony was not lost on her. "Oh…yeah. Sure. I'll do it later, I was just tired last night. Sorry."
"No need to apologize!" Mary Margaret beamed. "I know things were a bit chaotic yesterday. Let me know if you need anything."
Emma eyed her former schoolteacher—mother, she reminded herself to start thinking of Mary Margaret as—as she exited the room. It was barely 9am, and she was already fully dressed for the day, in a floaty floral skirt that went down to her ankles and a matching pink cardigan. Gag. Guess this was the kind of house where everyone got ready for the day before breakfast.
Great.
Despite her best efforts, Emma was not a good cook. As such, Saturday breakfasts normally consisted of scrambled eggs or avocado toast. If she felt fancy, toaster waffles. Though Emma's cooking was hardly edible most of the time, Regina ever complained. Then again, the poor woman had scooped Emma's vomit off the floor with her bare hands countless times, so in comparison this was a cakewalk.
Which made Emma nervous as she had tossed and turned in bed all night. Although Mary Margaret had prepared the pasta for dinner, Emma had wondered whether she'd be expected to pitch in. They hadn't brought up a chore chart or schedule, but what would happen if she needed to cook? The last thing she needed was to make an even worse impression by setting off the smoke alarm.
But as she cautiously made her way downstairs for breakfast, she could see she had nothing to be concerned about. The small table had already been set with plates (decorated with birds) and cloth napkins (white with blue birds), a large stack of pancakes and a plate of muffins in the middle along with a pitcher of orange juice.
"Good morning!" David said as he set a stack of glasses onto the already heaping table. "Sleep well?"
Mary Margaret brushed past him, her arms full with a platter of scones, a little dish of jam, and a bowl of berries. She started shuffling everything on the table in an effort to make room.
Emma eyed the spread. "Um, how many people are we expecting?"
David followed her expression. "It's just us. We weren't sure what you liked, so we got a little bit of everything. We may have gone a little overboard."
A little? But still, it was sweet. With the exception of Regina, none of her previous homes had ever shown her this much fanfare.
"Sit, sit!" Mary Margaret took Emma's hands and practically shoved her into one of the chairs. "Take whatever you'd like. And if there's something else you want instead, just let us know."
How could Emma tell them she wasn't a huge breakfast person, not anymore?
They watched her expectantly as she spooned some berries onto her plate and grabbed a pancake, dousing it with syrup. Would it impolite to ask for whipped cream?
Emma hesitantly took a bite of pancake despite the pit in her stomach. Although it was delicious (she would've preferred the addition of apples, not that it was entirely appropriate to suggest that), she had to force herself to swallow.
"What do you think?"
She looked up into their eager expressions, plastering a smile onto her face. "Yup. Tastes good."
They seemed to visibly relax, only then starting to serve themselves. Emma looked down at her plate and stabbed at a strawberry. At least fruit still tasted the same.
"So what do you usually do on Saturdays?" David asked as he poured glasses of juice for everyone.
Emma took a sip of juice (and nearly spat it out when she realized it was the kind with pulp instead of without) before answering. "Um, you know, homework. And hang out with my friends. Not that Storybrooke is exactly the epicenter of nightlife. But like movies and stuff, or we go to the beach if it's nice out. That kinda stuff."
"Well, you'll have to show me." David responded. "I haven't seen any part of town except for the hospital for the past 17 years."
"Mmm, that's right, yeah."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. She could feel them staring at her, cataloguing her features and movements. It was starting to make her head hurt.
Finally, in an effort to be polite, she turned to Mary Margaret. "So, um, what do you like to do? I've only really seen you at the library."
"That's what Mary Margaret liked to do." The schoolteacher responded. "I like to read as much as anyone else, but like David, I'm ready to explore more. Go hiking in the woods, visit the toll bridge…"
"Is that weird?" Emma asked before she could help herself. "Having two lives in your head? Like you're two people."
"A bit, honestly." Mary Margaret responded. "There are parts of myself that I'm only starting to remember. Like how much I don't like cardigans." She tugged uncomfortably at the pink number she wore. "I don't know what Mary Margaret was thinking."
Emma blinked. She could either picture the woman in grandmother type clothes, or the Snow White getup from her book. Nothing in between.
"And there's so much I have missed, and so many things I have missed out on." Mary Margaret reached out to grab Emma's hand. "Like getting to know you."
Emma's chest constricted. Mary Margaret's grip wasn't tight by any means, but it wasn't exactly welcome either. Still, she couldn't bring herself to retract her hand.
"Um, yeah…so have you talked to anyone else? Is there like complete anarchy on Main Street?"
"That's what we were hoping to find out." David said. He and Mary Margaret exchanged a quick glance that Emma didn't fail to notice as she slowly began to inch her hand back a millimeter at a time. "After we left yesterday, the mob seemed to be under control, but I'm sure tensions are still high as everyone tries to find their loved ones. We were going to head out after breakfast to see how everyone's doing. Would you like to come with?"
No. What she wanted was to go home, bury herself into her bed, and rewind about six months back.
"Sure." Emma responded instead.
Emma had watched her fair share of disaster movies; one of her favorites was actually Day of the Dead. She knew what happened when a catastrophic event struck, when civilization eventually ceased to exist as it once had. Schools closed, grocery stores were looted, and generally there was a feeling of unease and anxiety in the air as everybody glared at each other, suspicious and on edge.
She'd expected all that and then some as she, Mary Margaret, and David approached main street. What she hadn't expected was that this was happening because everybody suddenly found themselves with two lives, two personalities, and two sets of memories crammed into their heads.
All around them, fights were erupting, shouts permeating the air as Storybrooke's residents packed their belongings into their cars or strapped them to their backs, a long snake of people heading in the same direction. Every store she'd grown familiar with was boarded up, windows dark, or picked clean, empty shelves glaringly obvious through their broken windows.
As Emma sat squeezed between Mary Margaret and David in their pickup truck (was that even legal?), she could see that everyone's destination: the town line. She'd never known that nobody besides her and Regina had been able to leave the town. Apparently, people weren't allowed to leave Storybrooke due to the curse, not that she'd ever noticed before.
(Then again, there had been many things she'd never noticed)
But now? She could see bumper to bumper traffic as Storybrooke's residents fought to cross the border out of town. On the way to Main Street, Mary Margaret had received a frantic call from Ruby, something to do with memory loss, and as they approached the town line, she could hear David curse quietly under his breath, slamming on the gas and accelerating, driving violently sideways so that the truck slid in front of the town line seconds before the first car could cross.
Mary Margaret and David hurried out of the truck, murmuring to Emma to stay there. Not that she had the desire to step out amidst the crazy.
"HEY!" Came shouts, as well as a cacophony of angry horns as Emma's classmates, neighbors, and friends got up from their cars and glared at Mary Margaret and David, who had climbed atop the truck's bed.
"Get out of the way!" A voice shouted. Emma whipped around and saw that it was Archie, or rather, Jiminy Cricket technically, with Mother Superior from the nunnery close behind. "We have a right to go!"
"Listen to us!" David shouted. "Listen!
And then the strangest thing happened. The townspeople actually began to quiet, transfixed by his words.
"If you cross that line," David continued. "you're going to be lost. Everyone who loves you will lose you. But there's something worse. You'll lose yourself."
Curious, Emma hopped out of the truck and took a few steps back, looking up as she listened.
She'd only known Mary Margaret as her former teacher, and David even less. Anything she'd read about the heroic Snow White and Prince Charming, it had felt like nothing more than what it appeared to be on the page—a story.
"Look," Mary Margaret started. "I get it, we get it, wanting to leave here, I do. I get that it's easier to let go of bad memories, but even bad memories are part of us."
And now she felt that she knew them even less as she listened to them weave words of hope, as around them the townspeople slowly nodded and acknowledged them, the power of their words causing obvious physical effects amongst the crowd. The two people who had essentially been strangers to her, nothing more than a story, were transforming before her eyes into figures she barely recognized, characters torn straight from her book.
"Mary Margaret, Storybrooke Mary Margaret, was, is, weak." Her birth mother continued. Beside her, David grabbed her hand and smiled reassuringly at his wife. "Confused. Afraid to speak up and fight for what she believed in. I wouldn't give up being Mary Margaret just to be her."
Goosebumps popped up onto Emma's words as she, like everyone around her, took in the unshed tears shining from Mary Margaret's eyes.
"But you know what? I wouldn't make the other trade either. Because that Mary Margaret reminds me not only if whom I lost, but of who I want to be. My weaknesses and my strengths. Mary Margaret and Snow White. I am both."
"We are both." David added. "Just like you. You are both. The town is both. We are both. Stay here, and every choice is open to you. Live in the woods if you want. Hell, live in a shoe if you want. Or eat frozen burritos."
That last part sent a laugh rippling through the crowd, even from Emma herself.
She'd descended from them, she realized. These people, these excellent speech makers, were her parents. These figures of literal royalty, who had spent their lives leading a kingdom and protecting their subjects. And her? Who was she?
"Let's open Granny's." Mary Margaret said. "And the schools. And get back to work. We will protect you. Nothing will be able to hurt any of us, not as long as we're alive. Not as long as we all come together, as we did before. As we shall do again. So let's go back, go home, rebuild our community."
"We can and we will find our long lost loved ones, take back everything we've lost." And here David gestured down at Emma. "Take us for example. Snow and I, we found our daughter. Met her for the first time since the day she was born."
Suddenly, every single eye snapped towards Emma as if realizing who she was for the first time.
"We didn't know if we'd see her again." David said. "We couldn't do anything but hope. But look at where that hope has brought us, look at who that hope has brought us. Our daughter, who bravely broke the curse for everyone to save us, to bring us all a fresh start, and to give us our lives, our identities back."
"Our princess. Your princess." Mary Margaret said, her eyes shining and her voice audibly cracking for the first time. "Emma."
Emma hadn't intended to break the curse. She hadn't even known she was doing, instead acting on instinct to save Regina. The curse breaking was just an unintended side effect.
But nobody knew that. Even if she told them, would they care, would they listen? People started to approach her, the friends, neighbors, and classmates she'd known her entire life suddenly seeing her for something she wasn't. Their princess.
Emma shifted uncomfortably where she stood, pressing herself against the truck. As people lifted her up onto a pedestal with their gazes, as Mary Margaret and David beamed smiles of pride at her, she never wanted anything more than to fade away, to be just one of the crowd.
She didn't belong. Everyone's history with her birth parents, with each other. As former enemies hugged, as long lost loved ones found each other, despite how people she barely knew were coming up to hug her, to thank her, to practically bow down to her, she stood paradoxically alone in the crowd.
She'd grown up the mayor's daughter, related to the most powerful woman in town. But that was nothing compared to the literal royalty that she was now, to the status her blood had given her.
"I'm not one of them," Emma wanted to protest. "I'm not a princess! I'm just Emma."
But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would never ever just be Emma any longer.
So this was it. Regina stared down at the beautifully decorated book in her hands. She'd honestly never thought she'd see her mother's spell book again.
She felt her magic flooding through her once more, and reflexively waved her hands at the fireplace, where cheery flames instantly burst to life, as easy as riding a bike.
She'd done it, then, gotten her magic back. Never mind the cryptic little comment Gold had made at his store, muttering that she was turning more and more into her mother. She was only trying to protect Emma. With her magic working once again, she could bring Emma home and set up a defense system so nobody could harm her daughter once more.
But Gold's words echoed in her mind once more.
And an image of Regina's own childhood flashed before her eyes. Her entire life, nobody her age had wanted to get close to her, thanks to her overbearing mother who only made relationships to better her own status, who rejected everyone Regina tried to befriend.
Did she want the same for Emma?
She pictured bringing Emma back. Would she need to throw fireball after fireball at every person who approached the house? Would anyone want to stay friends with her daughter? Would Emma have no choice but to stay locked up inside the house, destined to be alone?
Would Emma have a chance at a normal life?
Surviving was not the same thing as living.
No. Regina closed the spell book and crossed the room to the safe hidden away in the wall of her office.
She'd meant it when she said she didn't want to be the Evil Queen anymore, had meant it ever since she'd took the forgetting potion. No—since the day she'd signed the paperwork that allowed her to take Emma home with her.
Perhaps even more, she did not want to turn into her mother.
There had to be another way. And until then, maybe Emma was better off away from her.
Author's note: Thoughts?
Up next: Mary Margaret and David try to further bond with Emma, while Regina works on a way to make everyone realize she isn't the Evil Queen any longer.
