Omg, what?! Two stories in one day?! Ahhhhh.
Okay, this one is just a two-shot and it's been a long time coming. It's a tag to the Echo Cave scene in Neverland.
I had a major problem with Mary Margaret's secret, when she told Emma she wanted "another go at it" in terms of having another baby. I understand she lost the chance to raise Emma, but she did not get the short end of the stick in that relationship. Plus, her word choice really didn't sit well with me. I felt horrible for Emma and couldn't imagine how she felt hearing her mother say "It's not what I wanted." Especially when there was no conversation afterward between them about it.
This is my attempt to get Emma's thoughts, and make Emma feel a little better about it.
And who better to make her feel better than a certain pirate captain? ;)
This will be a Captain Swan story, but the CS stuff will be in chapter 2. It's almost finished, and will be posted in a few days!
~cosette141
Emma opened her eyes to the darkness. The jungle stared back at her. And just louder than the cries of the Lost Boys were the echoes of Mary Margaret's darkest secret, playing in her head.
Over and over.
And over.
No, not Mary Margaret.
Her mother.
"What we have with her is unique."
Emma blinked at the darkness, her knuckles white on the scratchy blanket pulled up around her shoulders.
"But she's all grown up."
Emma felt a burn in her eyes.
She willed it away.
She was good at willing it away.
Swallowing it down.
Letting that fire simmer somewhere deep in her gut.
"It's not what I wanted."
Emma felt the burn intensify.
Her eyes flicked to her mother, sleeping across the clearing.
And suddenly, other echoes came back, dredged up from years ago.
"You know, Emma," one of her foster brothers told her when he found her crying one night, "it's not so bad when you think about it. Our parents gave us up because they didn't want a kid. Not because they didn't want us. It's not like they knew us, and then decided they didn't want us. That'd be a whole lot worse."
The burning blurred her vision, and she couldn't hold it back any longer.
Tears slipped down her skin, tracking lines down her cheeks.
All her life, she'd wanted her parents.
Thinking about the day she'd find them, and hearing them tell her they made a mistake. It wasn't because they didn't want her. They'd take her in their arms and never, ever, let her go.
Then, miraculously, she did find them. And their reason for giving her up wasn't because they didn't want her. They loved her. The moment they remembered her, they pulled her into their arms and they told her how much they did want her, how much they loved her. And no matter how broken everything still was, something slid into place. A deep need somewhere in her chest was sated.
All these years, and she'd finally found them.
And they wanted her.
"It's not what I wanted."
Emma felt more tears join the first.
That boy in the foster home was right.
This was worse.
"I want another go at it."
It felt like a physical blow. Emma'd felt herself stiffen.
They'd sent her away, they'd made her grow up all alone, and yet…
"It's not what I wanted."
They'd gotten to know her long enough to decide they didn't want her after all.
Emma had experienced that time and time and time again with each new foster home, and each real home that gave her back.
She just never imagined she'd find her real parents, and they wouldn't want her either.
That meant…
Emma's breath hitched.
It wasn't the homes.
It wasn't the parents.
It was her.
She was just…
Unlovable.
"I want another go at it."
Emma held her breath, stopping the sob from rising in her chest.
They wanted another child.
They wanted to try again.
Like the first time was a mistake, a rough draft, crumpled and tossed into the garbage.
Emma had just begun to feel like they could be a family. She'd just begun to open up, loosen her walls, feel what being a family was like.
For the first time in her life, she was able to call someone "Mom." And she did. She called her "Mom."
It had been in the middle of the crisis, but in that moment… she never knew how wonderful it would feel. Like she belonged to someone, and they belonged to her.
"It's the truth," her mother had said when Emma revealed the map. When she accepted who she was. "You were an orphan. And it's my job to change that."
Emma stared at the blurry trees of the dark forest, tears mixing them all into an endless sea of black.
"It kills me to leave you, Emma…"
Not two days since she promised to be there—
"It's my job to change that."
—promised to want her and love her—
"It's not what I wanted."
Emma wanted to scream.
What about what she wanted?
What about the twenty-eight years she spent lost?
Whereas her parents spent twenty-eight years unaware there was something even wrong?
Emma had spent each and every day of those years, her whole life, knowing something was wrong. Living in sadness, grief, loneliness, distrust, pain. Wanting—needing—someone to save her, only to find out she was suffering because she needed to save everyone else.
It wasn't fair.
Couldn't they see that?
They left her, and—
"It's not what I wanted."
And now, they were going to leave her again.
"You were an orphan. And it's my job to change that."
An orphan was all she would ever be, now.
Her mother and father were going to stay here, on this godforsaken island, forever, and try to have another child. Another go. A replacement child. A do over. One that they did want.
"It kills me to leave you, Emma…"
She could have asked her to stay.
She could have asked Emma to stay with them, to be a family with them. Given her at least the choice. But instead, her mother made the choice all on her own. They wanted to stay here with their new child. Without her.
Emma had never imagined that finding her parents would result in more pain than never having found them at all.
She could have asked Emma to stay.
The thought didn't even cross her mind.
"It's my job to change that."
Where had that promise gone?
They would never see Emma again, and they weren't bothered by it. They didn't care. They didn't want her.
Did anyone want her?
Would anyone?
More tears fell.
Unlovable.
Unwanted.
They were dark fears that had finally come to light.
Her own parents didn't want her.
No one did.
Suddenly, it became too much.
Quietly, she stood, letting the blanket fall to the ground. And she walked away as the tears slipped traitorously down her face. She stepped carefully through the trees, knowing it wasn't safe, but suddenly not really caring.
No one cared about her.
Why should she?
a/n: aaaand, hook to the rescue. ;)