Here's Chapter 26! I will try to post another chapter this weekend to make up for the ones I've missed, but no promises…
P.S. Be on the lookout for a certain dragon named Lily!
It was an awkward two hours Emma spent with her mother. The two of them sat in absolute silence. It was so silent that even the crickets refused to chirp, the birds refused to tweet, and the wind refused to blow. Emma could swear she could hear the library clock ticking off in the distance, even through the heavy cloaking spell. Tick, tick, tick, it reminded her. Time runs out.
Mary Margaret let out an uncomfortable sigh from beside Emma. She drummed her fingers against the paved road. She crossed her legs. She uncrossed her legs. She crossed them again. She adjusted her sweater. She sighed again. She ran a hand over her hair. She uncrossed her legs.
Emma watched her mother quietly. A swell of anguish swept over her and clung to the edges of her heart and her soul. Her mother was disappointed in her; she could tell. Miss Snow White put so much faith into the goodness of people that she hadn't stopped to think about her daughter actually being the Dark One. Emma was sure she could see the regret distorting her mother's face, lurking just underneath the surface. Shouldn't've saved Emma. Shouldn't've saved Emma.
Mary Margaret's eyes traveled the length of the forest. They looked at the trees. They took in the endless expanse of blue sky. They searched for the end of the road. They looked everywhere except at Emma.
Look at me, Mom. I'm still your daughter. "Dark One" doesn't mean I'm evil any more than "Snow White" means you're good.
But Mary Margaret refused to look at her. It was too difficult for her to grasp that her perfect little girl could've gone dark. Deep inside her heart, Mary Margaret felt a sense of betrayal. She didn't know whether Emma had betrayed her or the world had, but either way, it made it painful physically to look at her daughter. The feeling was always tugging at her mind, like a distant memory, just near enough to serve as a reminder of the unfairness of the whole situation.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Mary Margaret swore she could hear that clock, too.
Tick.
In one quick, swift motion, before the clock could tick again,Emma was on her feet and had swiped the scroll from Mary Margaret's hand. Before her mother could react, Emma hurled herself over the town line into Storybrooke, leaving Mary Margaret abandoned in the dust.
Suddenly, a hollow ringing, much like a cowbell, filled Emma's ears. It was unbearable. Emma's hands shot up to block the noise. She screamed to cover it, but it was still there. She screamed louder, Louder, LOUDER. The louder she screamed, the louder the noise became. Her thoughts crashed into each other. Her body shook.
Apparently her commotion was attracting quite a lot of attention. Belle approached the Dark Savior cautiously. Her golden dress dragged across the ground as she patiently picked her way over to Emma. Emma's screaming was inhuman and heart-wrenching, but Belle was no stranger to the inhuman. "Emma- " she called out softly to the other woman.
Belle caught Emma right as she collapsed to her knees, hands still over her ears.
"Emma," Belle said forcefully. "Emma." She tore the other woman's hands from her ears. "Emma, you need to listen to me," Belle insisted.
Emma curled up tightly on the ground, shuddering. Belle laid a hand on her shoulder to shake her. But as soon as her hand contacted Emma's jacket, flashes jumped before Belle's eyes.
Emma's memories. Belle was reliving them with her.
Belle watched as Emma's first family returned her at the age of three. She watched Emma watch the only people she'd loved leave her in the dust, her white blanket clutched in her tiny hands. Belle could feel the rough fabric as toddler Emma stroked her blanket, the only possession that was truly hers, while the family's car became a tiny dot in the distance. She felt Emma's confusion over why the family that had loved her and cared for her for as long as she could remember would leave her.
She watched Emma being harassed by the girls in jail. She watched Emma hand her baby boy over to a complete stranger, who walked the baby out of the room and out of Emma's life. She felt the crushing pain of Emma losing her last chance at a family, the sensation of the heart being ripped out of the chest and tossed across the room into the wastebasket. Belle saw it all. She felt it all.
She also saw Neal as the life drained from his eyes, as the vitality fled from his body. She felt Emma's rage over only having him back for a short time. She felt Emma's reluctance and resistance as somebody pried Neal's limp body out of Emma's arms.
There were no good memories here. They were all of the most awful, horrendous things that had happened to Emma. The Dark One in Emma was teaching her to look at life like one long string of disappointments. That's the thing about true evil: it requires motivation. Evil replays bad memories over and over, working up its steam and examining every nook and cranny of the memory for a person to blame, a person to take it all out on. Evil takes its anger out on anyone and harms anyone to bring a smile to its face.
But true evil plots its revenge, like a masterpiece, only for those who deserve it.
Or, rather, those who they think deserve it.
And then, suddenly, it was over. Belle fell beside Emma, who was now sobbing, in a heap. Belle took a deep breath, willing herself to push past all she'd just saw, and slowly gathered herself into a kneeling position. She allowed herself a moment to recover.
Once she was right again, Belle grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her up from the dirt. She reached over and grasped Emma's other arm as well, so the brunette would not be tempted to fall back onto the earth. "Emma." Belle gave Emma a gentle, "snap-out-of-it," shake. Emma continued to sob anyway. Belle tried to meet Emma's eyes, but every time she moved her head one way, Emma moved hers the other to avoid her gaze. Belle's arms shook with each sob that racked Emma's body. Belle sighed lightly. "You've been through rough times," Belle admitted. "This whole thing happening is just unimaginable; there's no denying that. But you have to remember-" Belle's sentence was cut off by a violent shaking of Emma's head, as if to force all of the bad thoughts to go flying from her mind. Belle took a deep breath once Emma had finished and continued on. "But you have to remember all of the good things, too. They aren't half as good without bad memories to make them better." Emma finally lifted her eyes to Belle's light blue ones. "Let's make a list of all the good things, OK?" Emma nodded slowly. Belle pulled an ink pen from her boot and rolled up Emma's sleeve. "Number one," she said, writing on Emma's arm as she spoke. "Henry."
Emma rubbed her thumb over the name, indicating that it brought her great comfort. "Number two. Mary Margaret and David." Belle handed Emma the pen and allowed her to continue the list.
#3, Emma wrote, Hook.
#4, Emma wrote, Finally being friends and not enemies with Regina.
#5, Emma wrote, My permanent home: Storybrooke.
Emma paused before writing, underneath it all:
#6- A second chance.
Emma stared at her inked arm for a long while. Finally, Belle tenderly tugged Emma's sleeve back down over her arm. Belle said, "It's there when you need it. If it gets rubbed off, write it back on. If it gets washed off, write it back on. If that arm gets chopped off, write it on the other arm, because those things are still yours, even when everything else isn't."