Title: Meetings
Summary: Emma learns some interesting news at breakfast with Maggie.
Note: Farmgirlusa on Tumblr used the prompt: "YOU DID WHAT?" Post Visitor.

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Maggie paused in blowing on her coffee, squinting up at her. "What's the problem?"

Emma swallowed, fingers tensing around the mug in front of her. She worked on slowing her racing heart before finally looking up to her friend again. "Why would you go to the mayor's office?" she asked lowly. Maggie had dropped off Henry early that morning, then asked to meet downstairs in an hour. She had no idea that her friend was going to be going to a different meeting.

Maggie in turn gave a simple shrug, her face betraying only boredom. "She's a real piece of work, that one. Trying all she can to be intimidating. She claimed that the townspeople were worried about an outsider, wanted to question me to put their minds at ease. I'm calling bull on that," she said, the sipped her drink.

Emma agreed. She didn't want to even think of what reasons Regina had to call Maggie to her office. At the very least, her friend had sense enough to drop Henry back with them before making her visit. Her stomach knotted, thinking about the restraining order that didn't include Maggie. "We've had … problems with her before," she said.

Maggie nodded. "I can see why. Poor Graham had to deal with her when he worked here, huh?"

A shiver ran up her spine; the nonchalant tone her friend took was absolutely understandable, but it made her stomach churn at reminder. "Yeah," she said hollowly.

A clank sounded, and she looked up to see Maggie's hardened eyes. "Are you going to tell me, or am I going to drag it out of you?"

She chewed on her lip, mind racing. Finally she took a napkin from the dispenser and began to shred it. "She's … they've never been able to get anything to stick," she said slowly, "but she's suspected of numerous crimes."

Maggie sat back into the booth, brow furrowed thoughtfully. "She's an elected official, right?"

Emma nodded. "Uh … unchallenged. The people that live here … she scares them." It was so one-dimensional, saying it that way. Edging around curses and magic felt like taking the real danger out of it, but there was no other way to explain things to Maggie. She just needed her to understand that Regina was Bad News, and to protect her friend from further interaction with her. At the very least Zelena was waiting to make her move, so the immediate threats were down to one.

Maggie's brows rose, and she looked off into the busy dining room. "Graham doesn't scare easy," she mused with an air of suspicion.

"Believe me," Emma growled, her grip hardening around the flimsy paper. Her stomach rolled, and the baby kicked out as if trying to comfort her. Even though she tried to focus, part of her was raging at Regina. She spat out the rest of her statement, bitterness rising within her. "What she did to him was enough to leave a lasting impression."

Her head snapped to meet Emma's eyes, face tightened. "Babe," she started, and then stopped. Her mouth made a firm line, eyes flashing with the kind of anger you only get for someone else. "The first time I met him, what I asked—"

She held up a hand to pause her statement. She blew out a breath, processing.

She remembered that question that wasn't really a question quite vividly. It was that first night Graham and Maggie got acquainted, the night of her birthday. As Maggie had watched Graham interact enthusiastically with the kids, then ever so slightly less so with the adults later, she had made an observation. She noted the grip he'd had on Emma while in the group, little tensions in his jaw. When she had Emma alone, she'd commented that his reactions were similar to a lot of her old clients: the ones that lived through abuse. Emma hadn't really answered her, a quick brush of "not my story to tell" the only thing she'd said. Maggie hadn't pressed, with her or with Graham. She had even apologized for her "drunken psychoanalyzing" the next day. It was probably the only time Maggie had backed down so easily, and probably only because she didn't know Graham well enough at the time.

Now the same bit of fire was sparking in the depths of her brown eyes, that Mama Bear that lived in her best friend making its escape. Emma leaned forward and tapped her hand in way of bringing her to the present. "He's not going to want to talk about it. But believe me when I say you shouldn't mention your meeting around him. I'd rather not get him get into a fight unprepared again."

Maggie pursed her lips, and she could practically see the vibrations of her stamping down follow-up questions.

"We have a restraining order. She can't get within 100 yards."

Maggie's eye twitched. "You were able to argue burden of proof?"

Emma nodded, hand clenching under the table as she thought about it. David didn't even have to ask for it; he knew enough what she was been like. "Definitely."

Her friend looked concerned, brows pulling. Finally, she sighed. "Well, at least I can drop the pleasantries."

Emma smirked, trying to play towards an easier conversation. "You? You had pleasantries?"

Maggie's eyes were dancing as she brought her mug up. "I wasn't openly hostile."

She chuckled. She rolled her palms over her stomach as the baby seemed to offer his own amusement at the statement. She took the flimsy opportunity to change the subject, as far from Regina as possible. "Thanks for yesterday, by the way. We needed a little distraction." That morning was comparatively heaven, knots eased from her shoulders and body humming in Graham's warm arms. They needed it, more than either cared to admit before Maggie arrived.

She waved off her thanks. "How long is this trip going to be, anyway?"

Emma frowned. That was a harder question. "Hopefully not too much longer."

Maggie nodded. "Stress can't be good for Junior."

Emma snorted, but couldn't help agreeing. "Think we've got a lead, at least."

"How can I help?"

Emma shook her head. "No, it's fine. The … sheriff is helping." The thought of referring to one of her parents in such general terms throbbed a bit.

Maggie leaned back, arms folded. "And now you have another law enforcement officer in your midst. Use my resources."

She worried her lip. On one hand, she'd love the help, and knew Graham would be relieved by it. But there was only so much they could give her to do and also keep her safe and protected from the secret. "Maybe," she said finally.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Fine. Who else is helping?"

Emma looked around the diner. "Sheriff and his wife. The guy that works down at the docks. The librarian. One of the waitresses—"

"Sounds like quite the crack-shot team," she deadpanned.

"Hey!" she replied, then thought over what she just described. "They've got Graham."

"Sounds like the needed him," she mused. "Though now I get why he transferred."

Emma looked away, careful not to meet her eye. Maggie had always been very perceptive, though she was very good about not overtly talking about what she saw unless it was necessary. Thus, she didn't have to worry about her coddling Graham or trying to corner him to talk.

But the more she thought about it, the more worried she became that Maggie might retaliate against Regina. In another situation, Emma would have stood by gleefully. But her friend would be too ill-prepared to take on that witch and all her magic.

Emma couldn't begin to backpedal the situation, however; it would feel too much like making light of what both Graham and Henry went through. She'd just need to work on distraction.

"Emma."

She looked up, meeting matching green eyes. Panic crept up her spine a fraction, and she swallowed. "Mary Margaret, hi."

Maggie was drinking her coffee, watching the newcomer with an indifferent expression. Mary let her gaze float over her friend, but refocused on Emma. "I wanted to check in on you," Mary Margaret said uncertainly.

"Uh …." She hesitated. This was the first time she'd seen her since the funeral. She wasn't ready for her mother to offer condolences, especially in front of Maggie. She grimaced slightly, and adjusted against the seat. "Mary Margaret, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is the sheriff's wife."

Her mother looked stung at the impersonal tone, but swallowed it back quickly to shake the other woman's hand in greeting. "It's nice to meet you. What's brought you to Storybrooke?"

Maggie jerked her chin in Emma's general direction as way of explaining to her as well. "I was able to weasel some time off by doing a trade with a buddy of mine. It's been a busy couple of months, haven't had a vacation in a while. A trip to the middle of nowhere sounded like just the thing," she said, winking at Emma. Then she gave a more serious look. "I'm just helping out. Needed to check on the fam."

Something in her eyes changed, and Mary Margaret looked at Emma with a startled expression. Slowly, an understanding clicked in her expression, and she managed a stiff smile. "Of course. You wanted to help your friend," she said softly.

The air was thick with what was being unsaid. Maggie made no move to let her know she had caught on to it, but Emma had no expectations that she didn't. "No different than the last eleven years," Maggie replied.

"Eleven years," Mary Margaret repeated to herself. She shook her head as if to clear the thought, and gave a watery smile. "I'm glad she has you, then."

Emma pressed her lips together, looking up at Mary Margaret. At one time, she was her roommate, her best friend. The memory of it clings to her, the way they were before all hell broke loose. She missed it, so much.

And now she has Maggie, the friend that barged into her life with much less subtlety than her mother had, but stayed in her life so much longer. And yet …. Her eyes were misting, a lump in her throat forming as quickly as her attempts to quash it down. The lights around them flickered a bit, just enough for Maggie to notice. Emma blinked rapidly and nodded. "Maggie's a big help," she agreed, then added a playful, "when she wants to be."

Maggie stopped regarding the electricity and nodded to her with a smirk. "Only then," she teased. "And jerk-off landing in the middle of hubby's investigation warrants a visit."

Emma sighed just as Mary Margaret stiffened. "You know Henry's dad died," Mary Margaret said defensively, her voice tight.

Maggie's eyes narrowed, tension in her spine. "No, his dad didn't die. His biological father, the one that was seven years older than her, the one that landed my best friend pregnant and incarcerated at sixteen, died."

"Mags," Emma said warningly.

Maggie huffed and leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest as if to invite argument.

Mary Margaret's brows were knitting together, large eyes swimming with tears. "He's the reason you went to jail?" she asked, voice cracking. She could hear the rest of the statement, the one behind the words: he's the reason you had to give up Henry?

"It's not important," Emma said firmly, directing it at both women. "We're processing what happened at our own pace, and what's done is done."

Neither woman looked placated with her words. What concerned her, however, was her mother's expression. She was trying so hard to make it fit in her head, to let this new piece of information settle, and it was written all over her face.

Emma drummed her fingers across the table, and whiplashed the conversation. "Do you have an update on the case?"

Her mother flitted her hands over her stomach, visibly trying to compose herself. She sniffed loudly and swiped at her cheeks. "No, nothing yet."

"When did you last see her?" she asked.

"Zel—the midwife?" Mary Margaret shook her head. "Not since our last appointment."

"She took a little too much interest in your pregnancy, Mary Margaret," Emma said pointedly. Then, her brow furrowed and she leaned heavily back into her seat. "And mine."

"Great, two pregnant women are on this case tracking down a psycho midwife," Maggie muttered. She knew Maggie wouldn't try to pull either of them off it, but it did indeed make things much more complicated for both. "How far along are you, anyway?"

Mary Margaret looked over to Emma, then back to her friend. "About thirty-eight weeks, now." She turned worried eyes to Emma, widened slightly. "Emma … she said I was probably close to going into labor."

Maggie hummed. "Em, let me help," she said.

Emma winced. "Ask Graham. It's his case," she replied as a way of stalling.

"My husband's the lead," Mary Margaret added, shoulders squaring. Her tone was altogether dismissive. "I don't know that he'll want outside help."

Emma clicked her tongue, the hostility in her mother a strange departure from her usual nature. "I'm sure David needs all hands on deck. I can get her researching with us." It would keep her busy, but also help in the long run as well.

"Sounds fun," Maggie muttered.

Emma kicked her under the table, but Maggie only smiled brightly. Oh, she would be trouble.

Mary Margaret hesitated. "If that's what you want, Emma."

She faced her so her expression would be clear. "I think it's what's best."

This merging of her worlds was going to be difficult, but there was a different part of her that felt a flash of excitement. She wanted Maggie to know her mother, wanted her mother to know Maggie. Mary Margaret was just beginning to understand, and perhaps this would be the thing that would truly make her realize how important this life was to her.

And how important it was that she knew: she was happy, and had people looking out for her happiness.

And a glimmer started, one she almost didn't want to acknowledge: maybe someday those two different worlds would coexist permanently.