Author's Note: As you can probably tell by the length, this one? Was fun. :)

Snow was right: Emma had yet to become acquainted with her mother's overprotective streak.

And Emma had thought those first few hours together in the Enchanted Forest were annoying! They were a freakin' breeze compared to the aftermath of her bout of dizziness in the bathroom. After letting Emma sit for a moment to get her bearings, Snow clutched her daughter's hands. "Are you all right to stand?"

"I'm fine," Emma said, trying to pull her hands free. Despite all outward appearances, she did not need her mom holding her hands. Snow ignored her efforts, holding firm until she was sure that her baby girl wasn't going to topple over if she let go.

"Over to the couch with you," Snow instructed, wrapping her arm around Emma's shoulders and gently nudging her forward.

"This is a little ridiculous, you know. I don't need you to walk me over to–"

"Hush. You're lucky I'm not still holding your hands."

Emma heard quiet snickering coming from behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, both Killian and David were getting an absolute kick out of this. David at least had the decency to attempt to hide the smirk on his face when he caught his daughter's eye. Killian not only didn't bother stifling his amusement, he actually grinned and then winked at her.

Damn pirate.

Snow got Emma set up on the couch before picking up the picnic blanket, which still lay in a rumpled heap on the floor. She shook it out before spreading it over Emma's legs. Thankfully, she left it to Emma to adjust it as she saw fit. Being tucked in in front of everyone would have probably made her melt into the sofa in embarrassment. "You, my darling daughter, are going to rest," Snow instructed. Emma opened her mouth to argue but Snow cut her off. "I don't want you moving a single muscle."

Emma blinked. Snow's voice, though still gentle and loving, had a stern edge to it that brooked no dissent. Henry, still seated at the other end of the sofa, raised his eyebrows at Emma while hiding an amused smile.

Well, then. If she couldn't argue, she could at least play a little bit. She gave Henry a wink before turning to her mother. "What if I get itchy?" she asked, a wry grin pulling at her lips.

Three little coughs filled the shack as David, Killian, and Henry all tried to swallow chuckles. Snow looked like she was trying her level best to hide a smirk as well, which made Emma smile in triumph. "You'll just have to deal with it in that case," she replied, her tone softer now. "No moving, Emma."

Heaving a mock put-upon sigh, Emma nodded in deference to her mother's wishes. Truth be told, she didn't have the energy for any kind of activity – although telling her she couldn't even scratch an itch was taking things a bit too far. (Not that she thought Snow was being serious about that, but still.)

Satisfied that Emma wasn't going to go anywhere, Snow smiled at her, lifted a sleeping Neal out of Henry's arms, and crossed back over to Killian and David. Emma only heard the briefest bit of discussion regarding what their next move should be before Henry softly asked, "Are you really okay, Mom?"

The poor kid looked so worried, and it struck her now how terrifying it must have been for both him and Snow to see David and Killian dragging her out of the bathroom. Aw, crap, she thought, cringing inwardly. Out loud, she said, "I'm fine, kid. They're all completely overreacting."

"You almost passed out, Emma!" David cried from across the room.

"Twice," Killian added.

"Okay, one, I did not almost pass out," she said, addressing her father's point first. "I got lightheaded. There's a difference. And two, I was actually trying to sit down on purpose the second time."

"That may very well be, but you tried to sit down in the middle of the bathroom floor," David gently argued. "Which, correct me if I'm wrong, is still an indication that you should take it easy for the next little while."

Killian and Snow were both nodding in agreement to David's point. It was quite clearly three against one; arguing was going to get Emma exactly nowhere. Sighing, she turned to Henry. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

Henry shook his head at her, eyes sparkling in amusement. "I don't think so, Mom."

"Damn."

Everyone got a good chuckle out of that, too.

After sending Emma another loving smile, Snow turned to David and Killian and the three of them got to work. They pulled the bathroom door closed and tucked Snow's jacket along the bottom of it to keep the draft from escaping through the small gap between the bottom edge of the door and the floorboards. With the draft contained for now, David and Killian bundled up as much as they could and headed outside to look for something they could use to patch the window. On his way out the door, Killian grabbed the bucket they'd used during the scavenger hunt.

"What's with the bucket?" Emma asked her mother as she approached the sofa to check on her grown-up baby.

"You may have changed but I still have to get the baby vomit out of your top." Oh, yeah. In all the chaos, Emma had forgotten that Neal's spit-up had made a mess of her shirt. "There's no running water and I'd rather not use our drinking water for cleaning. Hook's going to collect some snow and we'll let it melt."

That made sense, Emma supposed.

"Now it's my turn to ask the questions. How are you feeling?" Snow shifted Neal in her arms and, to her daughter's horror, placed her palm against Emma's forehead to feel for a fever.

Henry snickered as Emma scrunched her nose and ducked out of Snow's reach. "I'm fine. I don't have a fever. I'm not sick!"

"No, you're just exhausted and pale and unsteady on your feet. Honestly, Emma." She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she looked her daughter over. "I think you should eat something. Protein will help."

The very thought of food made Emma's stomach do a somersault. She almost groaned aloud but caught herself just in time. Suffice it to say, no, she did not think she should eat something. Telling Snow as much would only send her into Protective Mom Overdrive, though, so Emma just gave a little shrug and said, "I'm not hungry."

If Henry weren't sitting right there, she would have also mentioned that they were supposed to be conserving their food.

Snow narrowed her eyes and for a brief moment, Emma felt like a little kid who was about to be sent to her room. Then Snow's gaze softened, filling with sympathy as comprehended what was behind Emma's sudden and conspicuous lack of appetite. "Oh, honey," she murmured.

Yep, just as Emma thought: her mom's protective nature had indeed shifted into overdrive. Things were about to get super-annoying, weren't they?

As if sensing his mom's discomfort, Henry slipped his hand into hers. She shifted closer to him, which, damn it all, allowed Snow the opportunity to squeeze in on her other side.

Seriously? Emma thought. Now sandwiched in between her kid and her mom and baby brother, she squirmed in an effort to regain even a smidgeon of personal space.

"You're moving," Snow said teasingly, making Henry clap a hand over his mouth to muffle an amused snort. Emma rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Snow smiled back and brushed the pad of her thumb down Emma's cheek. "Let's just rest for a little bit, all right?"

That actually sounded like a wonderful idea. When Emma gratefully nodded her agreement, Henry smiled and cuddled up to her side. In their shared fake memories, many a sick day had been spent snuggled up on the couch together. She'd allowed Henry snuggle up with her to help him feel better, giving no care or concern as to whether she would come down with the same thing. And whenever she was sick, he'd cuddled up to her despite her protests that she'd get him sick, too. "You do it for me," he'd always said. "I want to do it for you."

It pained her to realize that no matter how deep those memories ran, they hadn't really experienced any of it. Had Regina simply imparted memories of Henry cuddling up with her when he was sick on Emma or had the entire thing been figments of their imagination?

Maybe … or maybe not. Something else flitted through her head then, a day the previous summer when she and Henry had gone for a picnic in Central Park and Emma had come down with food poisoning. They'd narrowed the culprit down to the macaroni salad, which must have been left out in the sun too long. It was the only thing Emma had eaten that Henry hadn't. Henry had cuddled up with her on the sofa then, too, whenever she wasn't running to the bathroom to expel the spoiled mayonnaise from her stomach, of course.

Central Park during the previous summer meant that it was a real memory. A real memory clearly informed by their false ones, of course, but it had indeed really happened. Smiling, Emma reached an arm around Henry's shoulders and pulled him closer. He happily accepted, relaxing against her.

The explosion of love that filled her heart when her kid snuggled against her side made her breath catch, and she was suddenly keenly aware that her own mom was sitting right at her other side.

Maybe it was time for her to take another leap of faith.

After taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she slouched against Snow, assuming the same position as Henry. A soft gasp of surprise escaped Snow's lips but she reacted in less than a second, wrapping her arm around Emma's shoulders the same way Emma had hers wrapped around Henry.

Emma turned her head, somewhat confused as to how Snow was managing to hold both her and her baby brother. Neal was still sleeping comfortably cradled in Snow's right arm, and Snow was beaming at Emma as if she'd been waiting for this moment for her entire life.

Truthfully, she probably had been.

"It's all right," she murmured gently. "I've got you both."

A lump formed in Emma's throat, a lump she tried to no avail to swallow. Since she was afraid that opening her mouth would lead to tears she had no desire to shed, Emma settled for giving her mom a smile. Then she relaxed fully, resting her head on Snow's shoulder and closing her eyes.

And if hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes when she felt Snow press a light kiss to the top of her head, well, no one needed to know about them.

For a long moment, the four of them just sat cuddled on the couch together. The wind had picked back up, Emma realized. It was howling again, making Emma shudder even under the blanket. Were David and Killian okay out there?

When Henry shivered, too, Emma opened her eyes in sudden concern. Before she could even formulate her concern into words, the door to the shack opened and David and Killian came rushing back inside, shivering and eager to warm themselves by the fire.

It took less than a second for both Emma and Snow to notice that the guys were empty-handed, save for the bucket of packed snow hanging from Killian's hook. David closed the door, blowing into his hands in a meager attempt to warm them, and gave a slight shake of his head when he caught Snow's eye.

Emma sat up straight, her heart sinking into her stomach. They hadn't been able to find anything that could conceivably be used as a patch for the bathroom window. Damn it.

Was it her imagination or was it colder in the shack now than it was before the window had broken? She was shivering, but then again, she'd been in the bathroom. Wait a second, though … Henry was shivering, too.

She threw the blanket off her legs in an effort to properly judge the air temperature. No, it was definitely colder. There was a chill in the air now. Not a deep, middle-of-winter chill, but a the-heat's-been-on-low-all-day-while-no-one-was-home chill. It wasn't dangerous yet but it had the potential to become dangerous if they couldn't get a handle on it.

Snow must have felt the chill in the air, too, because she stood, gently handed Neal off to Henry, and fed more logs into the fire.

The fire wasn't going to be able to keep up with this for very long, not with frigid air rushing in through that broken window. They'd contained the draft as much as they could, but it wasn't enough. Emma gave Henry a smile, hoping to keep him calm, before standing and joining her mother, father, and Killian at the fireplace. "You've got to let me try again," she murmured, keeping her voice soft so Henry couldn't overhear her.

"That is absolutely out of the question," Snow said.

"I can get us the materials for the patch," she argued. "A sheet of plywood, a hammer, and some nails."

"No, Emma," David insisted. "I'm not going to have you passing out or worse over this."

Emma heaved a frustrated sigh. "Guys, look, I get that you're trying to protect me but we have to think about all of us. We're going to be dealing with hypothermia-level cold in a couple of hours if we don't get something on that window. You have to let me try."

"She has a point," Killian said after a short beat. He turned, looking Snow and David in the eye. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we have to at least let her try. If we don't get something on that window, we'll all be in a situation that's a bit beyond a bout of lightheadedness."

Her parents exchanged a pained glance. Emma could see the conflict swimming in their eyes, their fierce desire to keep her safe fighting with their just as fierce desire to keep everyone warm.

Finally, David gave a curt nod. "All right."

Snow shut her eyes, her shoulders slumping in resignation. Emma, on the other hand, smiled in relief.

Her relief was short-lived, however, because apparently her father wasn't done. "There are ground rules, though. You get to try. If you can't do it, you don't push yourself and the second you feel at all like you're losing control, you stop. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded. "Got it."

Everyone took a couple steps back, moving away from each other slightly while creating a semicircle in front of the fireplace. Emma shut her eyes and concentrated, focusing her magic. She pushed past the exhaustion she still felt from her earlier magical attempt and just focused on the tendrils of warmth in her stomach.

She called to it, that warmth, that protection, thinking back to her first lesson with Gold. He'd told her to tap into the love within her, to tap into her desire to protect her family. He'd told her to think about those who needed protection.

She thought now of her mother and father and pirate. She thought of Henry and her baby brother. She needed to protect them, needed to find a way to keep them warm.

The sensation of the burgeoning magic stayed in her stomach. It didn't spread, didn't fill her the way it had before. Despite her father's instructions, she pushed further, willing it to spread, willing it to save them. We need this, she thought. We all need this.

It was hard, so hard, and she was so tired but she pushed and she concentrated and she focused …

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, half-slumped against Killian and half-cradled in his arms. "Get her some water!" a panicked voice cried.

The cooler opened and then slammed shut.

"That's it, we're done with this," another voice said. It sounded angry.

"Can you hear me, love?" was spoken right into her ear.

"Can't do it ..." she mumbled somewhat incoherently by way of a response. "Too tired … my fault …"

"No, honey, it's not your fault." That voice sounded like her mother's. "You did do it. You did it, sweetheart."

Two pet names in three sentences. Definitely her mother.

"Here, Emma, drink this. Slow sips." One of the plastic cups from their picnic supplies touched her lips and she sipped the water greedily. When she stopped drinking, panting raggedly, the cup disappeared. "Are you all right? Can you open your eyes?"

It hadn't even registered with her that they were closed. She forced them open and dazedly pulled out of Killian's arms, sitting up straight.

"Whoa, easy." David, she realized now. He was the one who gave her the water, the one who'd sounded angry earlier. "Take it slow, Emma."

"I'm okay," she said, which was a complete and total lie. She actually felt like she'd been run over by a truck. A few times.

She glanced around the room, trying to get her bearings. Henry had somehow miraculously stayed – or been told to stay, most likely – on the couch cuddling Neal, his eyes wide and frantic. Hook was next to her, concern and panic still written across his face. Snow and David sat in front of her, Snow wringing her hands in an effort not to smother her with overprotective hovering and David looking her up and down as if trying to determine whether or not he could believe her.

And there, lying on the floor next to David, was a half-inch-thick sheet of plywood. No hammer and no nails, but she had indeed managed to poof the important part of the patch into existence.

Holy. Crap. "I did do it."

She didn't realize she'd actually said that out loud until David said, "Yes you did and we're very grateful for that but I thought I laid out ground rules for you, young lady."

His tone, equal parts serious and teasing, made a tiny smirk pull at her lips. It was clear in his eyes, the pride at what she'd done mixed with the anger that she'd put herself in danger to do it. She could almost hear what had to be running through his head: Thank the gods you're all right but don't you ever do that again.

The best way to stay out of trouble, then, was to play back with him. Despite the fact that she still felt absolutely terrible, she allowed her smirk to show in earnest. "You did. I ignored them."

With that one little joke, the tension in the room broke. Henry let out a breath of relief while Killian visibly relaxed, running his hand through her hair. David shook his head at his stubborn baby girl while hiding a smile, and Snow clasped her daughter's still shaky hands in her own before turning a relieved smile on her husband. "Now who does she sound like?"

"You?" David asked teasingly.

Snow smirked at him. "I meant you."

Emma smiled to herself. Like parents, like daughter, apparently. She sounded like the both of them.