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Title: Apologies
Summary: There's a knock on their door in the middle of the night.
Note: Post Entitlement/Healing Together. Anti Regina/RB, with mentions of the abuse she inflicted on Henry. Gremmashoelace and BossLady requested that it be a David-Snow talk, but I didn't want to introduce a new POV, so Emma-Snow it became. I almost saved this for appreciation week, then remembered how long it's been since I posted. D: Sorry about that.

It was well past midnight and Emma was almost asleep when she heard the gentle knock on the door.

Graham stirred first, coming awake easily to the small noise. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair before disentangling himself from her.

"Wait," she murmured.

He paused, legs swung over the side of the bed as he looked at her in confusion. She shook her head and held out a hand, needing his help to rise. He gave it freely, though his eyebrows knit together.

"I'll get it, okay? Just let me do this," she pressed. She placed her hand over his throat, where the injuries no longer lay.

He placed his own hand on top, his dark eyes flittering over her. "I'll be here," he assured, and made no move to return to his side of the bed.

She nodded and got up from the sheets, pulling her hands through her long hair as she padded to the door. She chanced a quick look at Henry, but he was fast asleep on the pullout twin.

She unlocked the bolt and cracked an opening, meeting worried green eyes. Emma sighed and pulled the door open wider. "Mary Margaret," she greeted stiffly, her spine straightening in defense.

Mary Margaret wrung her hands in front of her, gaze shadowed. "Sorry, I know it's late."

Emma gritted her teeth, and nodded stiffly. "It is."

She planted her feet, shifting her weight side to side. "I just wanted—"

"I don't want to hear it," Emma said sharply.

Mary Margaret looked struck, the expression so clearly read in her bright eyes. She took a shaky breath and nodded. "David … he told me about the restraining order."

"I'm not taking it back," she said, cradling her stomach defensively. She felt a hand on the small of her back, and she shifted to lean against Graham's chest. There wasn't any surprise at all that he would offer his presence at the sound of the clipped tones she was using.

She shook her head, glancing between the two. "No, I wasn't—that's not why I'm here. I wouldn't argue it, not after what happened."

Emma squared her shoulders, the need to be stern still coursing through her. The edge of a fight still lingered in the air. She didn't want it, but she was prepared for it. "Good."

Mary peered up at Graham, eyes bouncing across him. "Are you okay?"

Emma grabbed his hand and looked up at him, watching as he nodded. "I'm fine, thank you, Snow."

His words were a little stiff, a little placed, and she knew he was trying to keep the peace.

Mary Margaret wrung her hands again, twisting them uncomfortably in front of her large stomach. "I didn't think she would ...," she trailed off, and then swallowed. "I thought she would be better if she saw him."

Emma gripped Graham's hand harder, trying hard not to explode with Henry sleeping. At length, she turned to face her again. "I don't think you understand just what she did to him."

To her surprise, Mary nodded. "I didn't. I don't quite … I don't understand it all. But after today, I know that seeing her is not what's right for him."

Emma was silent a moment, trailing her fingers along her husband's. Finally, she turned. "Give us a minute?"

Graham traced her with his eyes, then brushed his hand across her belly, a subtle reminder to be careful. "Of course."

Emma leaned up to kiss him softly, a promise to do just that. Then she stepped into the hall and closed the door behind them. There was a gentle fondness to Mary Margaret's expression, but she couldn't focus on that. "I need to know that you won't do this again. Ever."

She shook her head rapidly. "Oh, Emma, of course not. I thought it would be better if I was there, too, and she seemed so sad, but I know it's not my place—"

"No, it's not," she said firmly. "And I don't just mean letting Regina see him. I mean going behind my and Graham's back when it comes to our kids."

Mary Margaret's mouth dropped, a protest or shock or something catching in her throat. After a moment, her teeth clacked shut. Her eyes were misty with tears, clouded with something. "I didn't mean it like that, Emma. Henry … well, he's her son, too."

Emma felt exhaustion more than any other emotion deep within her bones at that. There it was, the denial that still lingered in her mother despite her words. She was so sick of this, so sick of Regina.

She knew she couldn't let it slide.

"No," Emma said, as clearly as she was able. "Not anymore, not in the way that counts. Legally, me and Graham are the only ones that can claim him. Henry, he would include a few select others that we are more than willing to acknowledge. But not her. He doesn't want her in his life anymore, and we need to respect that."

"It doesn't seem fair, Emma," Mary Margaret murmured. "She raised him."

Emma shook her head, nails biting into her palms as she struggled to keep calm. "Yes, she brought him to this town, knowing he'd never have a normal life. She decided to shield him from every other person that might give him attention for fear that she wouldn't have all of his. She manipulated and intimidated anyone that did manage to get close into staying away. She decided to convince Henry he was insane when he started to question this town, made him question his mental state. Do you know what that does to a kid, Mary Margaret?"

Mary pressed her lips together, rounded eyes wide. Yes, she knew, Emma remembered. She was the one to give Henry the book in the first place.

When she saw that she was listening intently, Emma decided to continue, even though her throat felt hot and raw. "She once told him she was going to murder everyone in this town, including his family, and steal him away. She then invaded his mind and cleared him of the memory of her telling him, fully intent on seeing it through. He's had to read about the murders, the torture, the abuse she's inflicted on others, knowing it's just a fraction of what she's done. And he knows she doesn't regret it. Mary, she murdered the closest thing he had to a father for the first ten years of his life, and he knew about it and feared her for months, knowing no one would believe him."

Mary Margaret leaned against the wall, her face made even paler as she took in the information. She let out a small, muffled sob, her body trembling with the effort.

Emma's hands balled into fists, trying to ignore the tears that had started trailing down her own cheeks as she ticked off the ways Regina hurt her son. The light was flickering in the hallway, tremoring with the waves of her magic. "Does he have good memories, occasionally? Sure, of course he does. But it isn't near enough to cancel out the bad, the abuse he endured. When you abuse a child, your rights are taken away. End of story."

Mary scrubbed her cheeks with her hands, but the tears were still coming full-force. "I don't understand her," she said through them. "I don't understand why she's not trying to be better for him."

She blew out a sharp breath, ignoring her own tears. "It's not your responsibility to make her try. It's mine and Graham's and David's responsibility to stop her if she tries to go near him again."

She gave a jerky nod. "It's my fault. I knew you were a family, Emma, but I didn't get it. Regina was … she was my stepmother once. You are my daughter. I just couldn't make it fit in my head that you were the authority, and not her."

She shook her head. "No, not me. Well … I mean … on this, Henry has the decision. It's always his choice, Mary Margaret, that's what you need to know. Me and Graham can help guide him and support him, but it's his choice."

Mary was quiet a beat. "What if he wanted to see her?"

Emma thought about that, wondering how she would have reacted if Henry wanted her in his life after all she'd done. "Supervised visits. Limited interaction until she'd prove that she wouldn't hurt him, but never alone with him again. It couldn't be a 'Henry forgave her, so it's all better' situation. Not after how she hurt him. But it's moot, Mary."

"I don't think I realized," she started, and she swallowed. "I don't think I realized how important Graham is to him."

Emma gave a small shrug, and twisted her ring. "They love each other, just as much as Henry and I love each other. They always had that potential, and now it's just … allowed, I guess."

She nodded. "He called him 'dad.' I don't know why that took me by surprise. I didn't even stop to think about it, to think of him as a parent. I should have stopped then."

"Stop," she said shortly. "Stop going over what you did wrong. You know what you did wrong. Just focus on not doing it again."

"I'm so sorry, Emma," she said, her voice hushed and hoarse.

Emma crossed her arms in front of her, her eyes squeezing shut. She nodded jerkily.

"I know why you want to go back."

Emma looked up, surprise coloring her expression. "You—you do?"

She nodded, even though it appeared it pained her. "After today, I can see why you were avoiding this town. The way Henry reacted, the look on Graham's face when she used her magic … I get it now."

Emma felt herself deflate, the tear tracks growing cold on her cheeks. "I—thank you."

"I just want our family together," she said, her voice small.

"I know," Emma said thickly. Something in her arms trembled, a need that she couldn't express. Emma bit down on her lip, ducking her head. If things were better between them, she might have hugged her mother. She could have taken comfort in the support they could offer each other. But there was this chasm between them, even now, even when walls were shed.

There was nothing more to be said, not tonight, but they stood in the dark hall in a heavy silence, making no move to leave.

The baby was twisting, making herself known, and Emma thought about the brother that would be just months older than this child. It wasn't fair, the cards they were dealt.

"Your father said … he said you don't know whether the baby's a boy or a girl?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Emma nodded, taking the chance to change the subject. "Trading off, day by day. She's a girl today," she offered.

Mary Margaret smiled hesitantly, and dug around her pockets. Finally, she pulled out a silver locket, proudly holding it out. "Would you like to know for sure?"

Emma stared at the necklace. Instantly, she knew exactly what it was. Henry had been adamant about telling the newbie all sorts of stories, and the one with her grandmother and the locket was one that stood out in her mind. A part of her wanted to, to share something with her mother that would link their lives. After a moment, she shook her head. "No."

Mary's face fell.

"No, it's—I just don't want magic yet. And we've tried to find out, but I think—she wants to be a surprise, and I want to wait," she explained.

Mary Margaret looked embarrassed, stuffing the chain back in her pocket. "Sorry, it was just an idea."

Emma felt a wave of guilt. She knew the necklace was a peace offering, something to help connect them again. It was just the wrong thing to use at this time. "Maybe … I'll need another check up in a couple weeks. If we're still here, you could … come?"

She beamed up at her. "Emma, of course. I'm sure Zelena would be happy to meet with you."

Internally, Emma winced. She forced a tight smile. "Well, we'll see."

This time, the silence was more awkward than full of unsaid things. Mary Margaret finally took a step back, deeper down the hall. "I'm going to go home. Get some sleep. You should, too, Emma."

Emma's eyes darted away, and she knew she couldn't let her know just how much insomnia was plaguing her since arriving. "Yeah, sure."

She hesitated, her arm stretching out slightly before she pulled it back. "Sleep well. All of you."

The corners of her lips turned up. "Night."

As soon as Snow met the middle of the staircase, the door to her room clicked open. She turned, meeting Graham's eye. He didn't say a word, just extended his hand to her. She took it gratefully, squeezing with tears blurring her vision. "It'll be okay," he said softly as he brought her side to rest against his chest.

She shuddered, leaning into him and absently wishing they could be chest-to-chest again despite the way he was able to accommodate embracing her. "I think she understands now. She apologized, and I think she understands."

She felt his nod. "Good," he said. "She'll need to tell Henry at some point."

Emma nodded, burying her face into him. "Yeah, but at least she sees why she has to. And she won't put Regina over him, not anymore."

His lashes touched his cheeks. "Then maybe we can get back to the reason we came."

She sighed. "Yeah," she murmured. She leaned up on tip toes to press their lips together, a little more demandingly than she thought she intended.

He matched her smoothly, then pulled back to leave a hairsbreadth between them. "We'll figure out something, Em."

A lash of pain swiped across her, realizing he was speaking about her parents and not the curse. She bit down hard on her lip, and decided not to voice the doubts she had. Instead, she kissed him again, slower this time, and tried not to think about the things they had left to do.

Including leaving.