Title: Understanding Safety
Summary: An interlude before they look for Neal and Gold.
Note: Also for the other Daddy!Charming requests there were from gremma shoelace and cuppatea13 (I can't do disapproving!David, but I can do supportive!David). I doubt babysizer was around at this time, but a friend is using it (it's too cute!). Note that there is some anti SF sentiment here.
Her shoes made a muted crunch with each careful step amidst the roots and brush of the forest. Emma felt something cold grip her insides as she forged her path through the woods, twisting in a barely-there breath of trepidation.
She had never felt uncomfortable in the forest, even less so since being with Graham. It had always been a sort of calming peace or bubbling of excitement in the fresh air, so alive it was in both sight and sound.
This was different. It was a dread of something she could feel just outside her reach, like a phrase at the tip of her tongue.
Her foot scrapped along the dirt and she paused. It was too still. No birds chirping, no small creatures rustling leaves, no footfalls of the people she was seeking.
A quick twist pressing along her abdomen reminded her to be on guard, and she patted her stomach in acknowledgement. She swallowed and pulled out her phone. Her arm flicked with energy, the leftover magic that had peaked during her fight with Neal. She took a deep breath, making sure she didn't short the electricity. She scrolled through contacts before resting on David's. Poised to dial but not yet pressing "send," she took another cautious step toward the creek.
A twig snapped and she spun to the sudden noise, drawing her weapon from its place at her hip. She released a heavy breath to see her father. "David. Any sign of him?"
David gave a small smile, then shook his head. "Not since I first caught a glimpse. He's hiding. I have no clue why that'd be."
Emma sighed and brushed a shaky hand through her hair. "Neal stalked off in this direction, too. I wonder if he's hiding from him." She paused, looking over the empty, hollow woods again. "But you'd think we'd have run into him."
"Or anything else," he agreed grimly. He looked her over, concern beaming out through his gaze. "You look tense."
She forced a tight smile and nodded. "Yeah, seems about right," she admitted.
"Here, sit," David said, holding his hand out to lead her to the overturned tree.
Her lips tugged downward. "I'm fine," she said stubbornly.
He took the chance to give an embarrassed flush before he shook his head. "We don't know which way to go. Give yourself a chance to calm down a bit before we go on."
She opened her mouth to protest when the baby rolled once more within her. She wrung her hands together before finally settling next to him, though she blatantly ignored his outstretched hand. "Just for a minute," she insisted.
"Of course," he replied gently. He cleared his throat. "You're, uh, sparking a little."
She looked down, noticing how the veins in her arms colored with light. She swallowed. "It'll go away in a bit," she said, then tugged her sleeves down.
He watched her for a moment before cautiously extending his palm to rest on her elbow. "I'm sorry. You wouldn't have to deal with this if you weren't here."
She looked up, her blue-green eyes steady on his face for a moment before she shook her head. "It's my magic, and I have it here and in New York and even in Orlando. It's just more conspicuous, what with the town and the newbie."
David smiled softly. "A lot's changed since the last time we talked alone, huh?"
Emma huffed a laugh, thinking back to sitting on that cold bench, his arm hooking into hers to lead her back to town. "Despite the new curse and everything, definitely in a better place."
David twirled his phone in his hand, nodding absently. "You let yourself find the good moments. I'm so glad you had that chance."
She peeked up at him, giving a stiff smile. "You okay that it wasn't with Neal?"
She wondered about that, if only in passing. For some reason, all that she'd told Mary Margaret when they'd only been friends had fallen from her memory once Neal came trailing into Storybrooke. Both Mary Margaret and David had seemed so adamant about her and Neal, so certain that first love, father of her child, meant that they could connect again more than a decade later. A decade's worth of betrayal and abandonment and walls piled thick and high.
She remembered when she realized Graham had gotten past those defenses, in such a way that she didn't even realize they had grown around him (and Henry, of course). With tender hands brushing her hair back and pressing the gauze so gently to her skin, she had believed. In that moment, she had felt how she could collapse those structures, send them crashing, and yet still trust him to keep her heart safe.
Even in the best moments with Neal, she'd never truly believed that.
But her parents had been so optimistic that Neal was the one that could make her happy. She hadn't had the heart to explain that looking at Neal, being around him, only made her feel small.
David looked surprised, the cell gripped tighter in his hand. His eyes were wide and soft, sheening with emotion. "You and Graham broke your curse. How could I be anything but ecstatic that you found your true love, Emma?"
Heat rushed to her face and she ducked her head. She didn't like labeling her and Graham like that, with such a specific label. Even if it were, she knew, technically true. It was that something quieter, that feeling in the pit of her stomach that warmed and grew with every moment around him, that made her feel more at peace.
With him, she was fuller, more, and not just in the sense that her belly was currently swelling. And it wasn't that she was complete with him, but more like she was augmented with him, and Henry and the baby.
She rolled her palm over her belly. "I—thanks," she said simply.
He clicked his phone awake and set it between them. "When you're this happy, Emma, I don't understand why you'd think your mother and I'd be disappointed," he murmured.
Emma looked down, surprised to see the picture set as wallpaper on his screen. It was one that Henry took of them on the monorail, his wide grin taking up the majority of the frame while she and Graham laughed in the background. She cocked her head to the side. "How—"
"Graham sent a couple photos, after I asked. I hope you don't mind."
Her lip quirked up on one side, and she pulled the phone closer. "He didn't send the one of us at the castle?" she teased, even as a build of tears began forming at the back of her throat. She swallowed, knowing it wouldn't be the case if it weren't for the hormones.
He chuckled. "Yeah, he sent those, too. I think your eyes were in mid-roll, though," he said.
She smirked. "Yeah, well. Posing with a Disney couple was a little too …"
"Tongue-in-cheek?" David supplied.
She nodded. "Yeah, something like that."
David pulled the phone back and flipped through some photos. "There's some great shots in here. It really starts to tell me about how your life's been." He hesitated, and he seemed to cradle the device closer. "I understand why you told your mother you'd prefer to go back."
The sudden shoot of pain up her back alerted her to the fact that the power had died down sometime in their talk, only to crest once again. She tensed, her fingers digging into her palms. "But you are still going to argue it, is that it?"
David closed his eyes and sighed, before finally looking skyward. "Emma … if you're asking if I want you to stay, then yes, of course. You're our daughter, and our family is expanding and I want all our family together for that."
She bit back the bitter feeling, the wall resurrecting in her soul as her spine steeled. "You don't get it—"
He raised a single hand. "But I also know that you were happy and, better still, safe in New York. I can't be so short-sighted as to not understand that you want your family to be safe."
He sounded so sad as he said it, so resigned, and Emma felt herself deflate. "I want you guys to be safe, too," she said hoarsely.
He smiled then, one that tried so hard to be happy and yet was too miserable to make it happen. "I know you do, Emma. You came here because you want to save us."
She felt her eyes mist and her nails scrapped against the wood at her side. "Not just because of that," she admitted.
His mouth parted, a soft exhale escaping him. "We missed you, too."
Her stomach churned a little, that feeling of indecision that weighed on her despite her resolve. "But you get it?" she asked, and it surprised her how small and weak her tone was.
He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing. "And I'm trying to get her to, too. Logic is only one thing, though."
She winced and nodded. "If you could come …?" The question left her before it could fully form in her mind. That wistful feeling that tugged inside, the plain hope that ignited the child that lived in her soul, the one that so desperately wanted her parents.
He turned to her more fully, his whole face open and readable. "Of course, Emma. If it was an option, we'd take it."
Unsaid was the knowledge that their leaving still meant danger, but his acknowledgement was enough to lighten her whole head. She was quiet a moment, twisting a string around her finger. "It wouldn't be so bad if we could go back and forth. When I left Boston, I was so … I was scared. I was leaving everything I knew, the people that helped me so much. But now, in Manhattan … I still see them. I'm able to thrive, and they are, too, and Maggie can still visit, and Ryan will email every now and again, and Beth still sends things."
David was trained on her every word. "So many people," he murmured.
She blinked. "Yeah. If we had that sort of ability, to still keep in contact when we left, it wouldn't be so bad."
"I wish …," he said, his voice trailing off as his gaze fogged over. It was as if he was afraid to say the words, like saying them would immediately make it impossible.
She studied his features for a long moment. "Maybe."
"Maybe," he agreed.
She sighed and pulled her hands through her hair. "If only we had even the slightest clue who was doing this, then we could take care of them and then work this out."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "If even Gold is hiding from them, it can't be good."
"It wouldn't be Storybrooke if it was easy," she muttered, then rose carefully. The baby shifted again, and she held her belly loosely as he settled.
He looked at her fondly. "You must be carrying more towards your back. You're so tiny, still."
She looked down and tried not to roll her eyes at digression. "Graham took great pride in letting me know that the baby sizer says he's the past the size of Thor's hammer now."
He grinned. "Another boy?" he asked.
She felt a frown tug on her lips as she realized that was the first time either of her parents asked. "Still not sure. Today's a boy day, but we alternate. He's been hiding pretty decently in the ultrasounds, so," she said. She shrugged. "He's healthy, he's growing. And at least with him he'll be younger than his uncle."
"Poor Henry," he said with a laugh. "I know Snow gave you the name of our midwife; have you checked in with her since you've been here?"
She shivered. "No, I—" She didn't want to say what she clearly felt: that the midwife gave her chills. Not when Mary Margaret was so confident in her. "I just had my 28-week. I should be fine until 30."
He shrugged. "Just know she's available."
She smiled stiffly. "Yeah, I do. Thanks."
He glanced around them, his eyes turning to the treetops and then back through the woods. "I haven't heard anything that could mean he's close. Let's have a quick look around before it gets dark, okay?"
He offered his arm, and this time she took it. "Thanks for … you know … understanding," she said, just barely above a whisper.
He squeezed her arm. "I want to protect you as much as you want to protect us. Don't forget that," he reminded.
Her head tilted, and she bumped his arm affectionately. "I'll try not to," she replied.
Savior or no, it was good to know she wasn't alone in this ordeal. And she couldn't help feeling so wistfully pleased that her brother would be so lucky to have him from the beginning.
She just needed to find a way that David's grandchildren would have that same honor.