It's a dream.
It has to be a dream. It must be a dream, because this can't be happening again. One of her children can't have been taken by a monstrous villainagain.
But as she digs her fingernails into her skin to keep from screaming, she feels the tiny pinpricks of pain blooming into her palm, and she's know that it's not – it's not a dream, and somehow Zelena has taken her daughter and Emma has failed.
She failed at the one basic task of keeping her kids safe because first Neal's fucking fiancé took her son, and now Regina's fucking sister has her daughter, and Emma is angry, upset, and so terribly afraid.
She doesn't know how she and Killian manage to get back to the hospital, but they do. She has her fingers wrapped around his, and his rings are digging painfully into her skin, but she doesn't care because their daughter is missing and if he lets go, she may fall apart.
She ignores the sympathetic looks she get from the dwarves, the Merry Men, the nurses, and all the goddamn people who were too busy protecting her newborn sibling to save her daughter. And Killian must feel the same way too, because he's yelling. He's not letting go of her hand, but he's yelling, his hook swinging wildly and violently, and people look scared, but Emma doesn't care, because she is scared, and she has more of a reason to be scared than them.
Then Henry runs to her, and she wraps her free arm around him in a hug, and she holds him tight because at least one of her kids is safe. Then it's her father, who should be with her newborn sibling, but he's here and swearing that they're going to get Wendy back.
Of course they are going to get Wendy back, because there is no alternative to getting her back.
They will save her.
But the question is how?
-/-
How is Regina.
Regina, who still has her magic. Regina, who used light magic to restore Henry's memories.
Regina, whose hands in which Wendy's fate lay.
-/-
"I thought you said she needed the product of True Love!"
"Who says she doesn't have it?"
-/-
Over the past few months, Emma has familiarized herself with her daughter's cries.
She can differentiate between Wendy's hungry wail and when her daughter simply wants attention. She knows the sleepy cry, the scared cry, and even the "Henry dropped me on my head" cry. She's heard them all.
All but this one.
It's a cry that turns her blood to ice and causes Emma to tighter her hold on her gun. It's a cry that tells her that her daughter is afraid and hurt and in complete danger.
It's a cry that almost forces her to break ranks, ignore their battle plan, and run toward her crying girl.
But she doesn't, if only because she knows her party is stronger together, and that their strategy is the best way to ensure that Wendy never cries like that again.
-/-
The ground is hard beneath her, and it feels as if all the wind has been knocked from her lungs. Emma feels Killian stir next to her, and he groans in pain. Somewhere to their left, she hears the yells of her father and Robin Hood, the screams of flying monkeys, and the sizzle of magic meeting magic.
Wendy's cries ring out above them all.
She looks up toward her daughter, and can make out the pink of her hat and the flailing of her small arms. Her daughter is scared, so very scared, and might be in pain and Zelena needs to be stopped now. Her eyes flick to her father and Robin, to Gold, to Regina and Zelena, and then back to Wendy.
She tries to estimate if she could reach Wendy. The last time she tried, Gold had flung her and Killian against the barn wall. He's distracted with her father now, so maybe –
But no, even if they grab Wendy, it solves nothing with stopping Zelena and Gold, and as long as Zelena has the dagger, she is a threat and Wendy is in danger.
Regina needs to finish this now.
But it's taking too long and Wendy keeps crying, it's closer to screaming, and she's never sounded so scared or so hurt and her kid is in danger and she needs to be safe and not hurt and fine and –
– and Emma sees it.
A few feet away is her gun.
She reaches for it, fingers wrapping around the shaft. She looks to Wendy, to her father, to the distracted Gold and then to Regina and Zelena, Regina who is wielding light magic and holding off Zelena but not fast enough and Wendyisscreamingherdaughterisindangerandisscaredandandand
Emma aims, and then she pulls the trigger.
Emma remembers in flashes.
She remembers the way Zelena's body lurched as the bullet impacted her chest.
Regina's scream.
The flying monkey morphing back into Little John.
Feeling as if she was floating, floating, floating.
But then Killian places their daughter into her arms, and she is grounded.
-/-
Upon their group's return to the hospital, the doctors insist on checking Wendy for any injury.
"We can do a few tests, make sure she wasn't harmed. It won't take long," Whale tells her, his voice strangely assuring. "She's safe now."
Emma remembers what happened when they thought Henry was safe in Hook's cabin, and she pulls her daughter closer to her chest.
She won't make the same mistake again.
-/-
They visit her brother.
Her mother's smile upon their entrance to the room is bright, and she immediately launches into questions asking if everyone is okay and what happened with Zelena and "would you please get my granddaughter over here so I can see her for myself?"
Emma complies with the last question, but her father deflects on recounting the events at the barn with a pointed look and a promise of "later". Emma's cheeks burn red and she feels a wave of nausea at the memories, the sound of gunfire still ringing in her ears. She pushes it down, unwilling to allow her actions and emotions ruin this moment.
"Hey, Wendy, let's meet your uncle."
-/-
There's this moment when it's just Emma, Wendy, her mother, and brother in the room. Henry has gone to see Regina, and her father has recruited Killian on a mission to find her mother's favorite snacks. It's quiet as the two women take comfort in holding their youngest children in the arms.
Wendy has finally fallen asleep, and Emma studies her long eyelashes, the rose of her cheeks, and her dark hair peeking out from under her knitted hat. When she looks up, Emma notices that her mother is not admiring her little brother, but instead is looking at her, tears on her cheeks.
"I never got this with you," Mary Margaret says when their eyes meet. "I never got to hold you like this, when it's quiet, just you and me. I never got the chance."
"Mom…"
"I know it's selfish of me, because if it wasn't for the curse, we wouldn't have Henry or Wendy or this little guy right here, but Emma, I want you to know, I wish so much I could have had this, if only for five more minutes."
Emma reaches out and grasps her mother's hand.
"I wish we could have had that, too."
-/-
It's night when they get back to the inn – her, Wendy, and Killian.
Killian walks them to her door, and bids them goodnight. He lingers, though, eyes still on Wendy, and it strikes Emma that he might be just as affected by what had transpired that day as she. She feels guilty for not realizing sooner, still not completely used to sharing this kid.
"You can come in," she offers suddenly, not quite thinking through the implications. "Since Henry's at Regina's, there's not reason this has to be goodnight."
He doesn't hesitate, and she leads him into the rented room. They end up on her bed, Wendy between them. Their daughter coos and kicks and smiles, and it's almost as if nothing terrible happened that day. Almost. She watches Wendy grip Killian's index finger, and he grins widely.
"Was she ever as small as your brother?" he asks suddenly, wiggling his fingers as Wendy grabs for them with a squeal.
"A bit smaller, actually," Emma replies a little wistfully. It's a little crazy to her how much her daughter has grown in four months, and how much bigger she will get.
"I wish I could have seen her then," Killian says, his voice a little bit sad. "Swan, you don't know how much I wish you didn't have to go through everything alone."
She reaches over and grabs his hand. "I know."
-/-
They eventually move Wendy back to her travel bassinet. Emma knows that soon she will need to find a real bassinet to put into a real apartment, but the thought of what comes next in her life is too overwhelming at the moment. Exhaustion weighs heavily on her, and her body screams for rest. But, she ignores it, contenting herself with scrolling through pictures on her phone of Wendy's early months.
"This is her and Henry at the hospital the day she was born," Emma says, holding up the phone to him. It's one of her favorite pictures, and she had it as her wallpaper for the longest time. She thinks, maybe, that she should print a copy for her parents. "I can text it to you, if you want. Or any of the others, really."
An awed expression crosses his face, and he quirks an eyebrow. "You can send images from these devices to others?"
"Well, yeah, it's the 21st century," she replies, knowing that she is goading him. He rolls his eyes. She's surprised, though, when he gets off the bed and crosses over to where his coat in hung. He digs around the pocket and pulls out his own phone.
"Would you desire for me to send you past photographs I have taken?"
His question throws her, because she doesn't even remember showing him the picture app. But somehow, either on his own or by someone else's help, he has figured it out and looks quite pleased with himself for doing so.
"As long as they're not dick picks, sure," she tells him with a laugh. The bewildered expression tells Emma that her joke fell flat, and she watches as he mouths the words.
"You mean to tell me that men photograph their – "
"You know what? Just forget I said anything, and show me your pictures."
"Do the women of this realm –"
"Killian, stop," she warns, and she plucks the phone from his hand and gasps.
When she had gotten him his own phone days ago, she had set his lock screen to a picture of Wendy. He had since changed it to something else: a photograph of both her and Wendy, clearly taken without her knowledge, but beautiful nonetheless.
In the picture, they are in the loft, and she has her forehead pressed to her daughter's, noses touching and smiles on both their faces. She feels the pinpricks of tears on the corner of her eyes, and does nothing to hide them.
"Nice picture."
"You said that the photograph on the screen should be something I wouldn't mind seeing every day," Killian says by way of explanation. He scratches behind his ear and joins her on the bed. "It felt more appropriate to have something of both you and the lass."
Emma wipes at her tears. "For future reference, you really shouldn't take pictures of people without letting them know first."
"Apologies, love, I –"
She cuts him off with a kiss.
-/-
They don't go further than kissing.
Wendy is still in the room, and the day has just been so overwhelming that Emma isn't sure they have the energy for more.
So they kiss.
It's different than the past few times they've done this – all heat and passion and the need to feel. This is softer, sweeter. It's almost pure, the way their lips move in a gentle dance.
Emma's never been good with articulating her feelings, so she hopes this says it all.
I want you. I need you. I think I just might love you.
-/-
That night she dreams of bullets and blood, of magic and monkeys, and of trying to save Wendy, but failing again and again and again.
-/-
It's the next morning that she realizes she's yet to see if her magic has returned. Emma closes her eyes and flicks her hand, and smiles in triumph when she hears Killian groan. She watches as he crosses the room to relocate his transported hook, an exaggerated frown on his face.
"It's back," Emma whispers with a smile.
-/-
"Miss Swan."
The greeting stings, because Emma had felt they had moved beyond that. But standing here now, Emma feels very much like she did over a year ago, the bail bondswoman staring down the Evil Queen-turned-Mayor.
So much for checking in on a friend…
"If you're here to kill any more of my relatives, I afraid to tell you I'm all out."
"Regina," Emma begins, but she doesn't know what to say. She didn't expect Regina to be so hurt, so cold, and the guilt washes over her. Emma has no other explanation but the truth, so she says, "She had Wendy. I did what I had to do to save my daughter."
Regina laughs, a hollow sort of thing. "So you say, but I've spent so long hearing how heroes give second chances, that maybe I thought the Savior would believe it, as well."
-/-
Killian finds her at the docks.
"Where's Wendy?" she asks when she notices that he is alone. She tries to ignore the momentary panic, but it must show, because he raises his hand and hook in assurance.
"The Widow Lucas demanded some time with her," Killian says. He sits next to her, but doesn't reach out to hold her hand or wrap his arm around her shoulder. It surprises Emma how much it disappoints her. "Wendy'll be safe, love. We can't hide her forever."
"Maybe."
He studies her for a moment, and Emma wishes to shrink under the intensity of his gaze. "I take it your visit to Regina did not go well."
"No."
"Do you wish to talk about it?"
She nods, and begins her explanation. He doesn't interrupt her, just listens. At the end of her speech, scrutinizes his hand and flexes his fingers. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I procured these rings?"
Emma shakes her head.
"You see this?" he raises a finger. "Belonged to a man named Barnaby. Called me 'One Hand Jones.' I killed him in front of his wife, took his ring. This one, Edgar. Fine sailor. I caught him drinking the captain's wine. I drowned him."
"Oh."
"I'm not telling you this to scare you away," he says, finally reaching out to take hold of her hand. "I just want you to see that I know what it is like to kill men for frivolous, unimportant reasons. What happened with Zelena… you might have taken a life, but you did so because you truly believe by doing so, you were saving one. Regina is hurting now, yes, but eventually she'll understand."
"Will she?"
"Have hope, love. It will work out in the end."
-/-
Emma visits Mary Margaret that afternoon, but not before retrieving Wendy from Granny. Her mother is going a bit stir crazy in the hospital, Emma can tell, and welcomes the visit.
"I get that medicine and patient care is better here than in the Enchanted Forest, but keeping me in this place for two nights really is too much," Mary Margaret complains. "Is it really so dangerous for me to want to sleep in my own bed?"
Emma thinks back to when she had given birth to Wendy, and how she wanted nothing more than to leave, if only to see if her family had returned like her memories. "It's frustrating, yeah."
"Your father told me what happened with Zelena."
"Cutting to the chase, huh?" Emma asks, looking down at Wendy, who is currently making a show of stuffing her fist in mouth. "I did what I felt I had to do."
"I know that, baby," Mary Margaret tells her, her tone so motherly that it hurts.
"Regina doesn't think so."
"And Regina is entitled to feel that way, but that doesn't mean you were wrong, either."
"I guess," Emma says. She places her lips on the top of her daughter's head and inhales her baby scent. "But I can't help but wonder if she's right, like if there was some other way, or if I had waited, and everything would have ended differently with Wendy still safe."
Wendy squeals, earning a soft smile from both her mother and grandmother. Mary Margaret then purses her lips, as if carefully considering her words.
"Emma, sometimes there are decisions you have to make as a parent to protect your child. You might not want to do it, but you do, because you want to give your child their best chance. You can go over in your head a million different things you could have done differently, but it will drive you crazy if you do. You just need to tell yourself that your daughter is safe and happy and good, and that's all that matters in the end."
Emma tightens her arms around Wendy, and hopes her mother is right.
-/-
She has dinner with Henry that night.
She's thankful to spend time with her son, his memories intact. Everything feels right to hear him talk about the people they love with affection in his voice. Even better, he doesn't ask about Zelena.
Instead, he asks her something greater.
"So…we're going to move back, right?"
Emma takes a deep breath. She thinks back to first arriving in this town, and then being forced to leave. She remembers Wendy's birth, the return of her memories, and wishing so desperately to return back to Storybrooke, only to be crushed when it was still gone. Now she's here, her kids are here, her entire family is here, and there's only real answer to Henry's question.
"Yeah, kid, we're coming home."
