Burden of Proof 4
A/N: Some of you have guessed what's coming... :). Thanks for reading!
Snow hugged her pillow sleepily and rolled over onto James's empty side of the bed. James had already rose, first as always, to get breakfast the next morning.
"Snow, come here!" She heard James call from the kitchen.
The urgency of his voice had Snow suddenly wide awake and out of bed like a shot.
"What is it?" she rushed to his side. He was standing at the kitchen counter where Mary Margaret kept her mail.
"Emma's not here. I found this," said James.
James handed her an envelope like the type bills came in, evidently it had already been opened judging by the jagged rip across the top. 'For Snow White's daughter' was scrawled roughly across the front. Snow took the envelope with a shaking hand and removed its contents.
"It looks like a genetic testing report," said Snow, as she scanned the results with a frown. "It says 'Subjects are first-degree relatives – mother/daughter – match probability 98%'".
"Emma ordered a DNA test to see if we're telling the truth?" said James. It sounded unlikely since Emma hadn't even entertained the possibility of it being true previously.
"No the order is dated several weeks ago. Apparently there was a backlog, for which Maternity One dot org sincerely apologises… Wait, this test was ordered by a 'Mr Henry Blanchard'".
Snow sighed and exchanged a wry look with James. "Henry must've used my credit card again."
"Smart kid." James fixed Snow with a look. "You really need to start checking your credit card statements."
"She must be so hurt," whispered Snow, staring blankly at the doorway to Emma's room.
"You think she's really gone?" asked James.
"I'm not sure." Snow padded over into Emma's room. She cast her eyes over the contents, looking for evidence of a hasty flight, but everything seemed to be in it's usual place. Emma's signature red jacket was tossed carelessly over a chair and her phone was lying on the floor plugged into its charger. The only thing she couldn't see was the baby blanket, she knew Emma would never leave that behind – it was the only clue to her past.
James leaned against the doorway. "She'll be back. I'm sure she just needs some time," he offered, gently.
Snow shook her head and smiled sadly. "You don't know her like I do. She's always ready to pick up and leave whenever it gets too hard to stay."
"We will find her," promised James.
Snow had gone to get dressed and when she came back she was wearing a face for action. She voiced her intention to set out on foot to look for Emma, despite not knowing where to start or having any idea of where the blonde might've gone. Emma hadn't lived in Storybrooke long and there was no particular place she was connected to, no place where she might find comfort. Except Mary Margaret's flat of course.
"So you're just going to walk around aimlessly? That's not much of a plan, Snow," said James, frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help. He'd have to leave soon or be late for his weekend shift at the Animal Shelter.
"Well, what should I be doing, Charming? Tell me so I can go do it," said Snow, sarcastically, wrapping her scarf around her neck.
He was silent, he knew there was no stopping his wife when she got into a stubborn mood.
"She's my baby girl and I have to find her!"
"I know how you feel," said James softly. "But she's not a baby anymore. Maybe she doesn't want to be found just yet."
Snow set her jaw and glared at him. "Fine. Then she can tell me that to my face when I find her. I'll leave her alone… after I make sure she's alright."
As annoying as it was to admit, Charming had been right. Snow had been pounding the pavement aimlessly for close to two hours and there'd been no sign of Emma. She scoffed at herself. What did she expect to find anyway? Emma standing at some street corner waiting for her? Ridiculous.
But the action of walking made her feel like she was doing something. It didn't keep her mind from replaying every moment she'd had with her daughter since Emma had arrived in Storybrooke. As time went on, her old memories of her daughter were becoming fresher too.
Her daughter. Snow smiled at the thought, for the thousandth time since her true identity had returned. She rested a hand on her stomach, still surprised somehow that it was flat. It seemed such a short time ago when Emma had been in there: kicking up a storm in the middle of the night, hiccuping whenever Snow laughed, quietly calm whenever James's voice could be heard.
She'd wondered during her pregnancy about the kind of person her baby would grow up to be. She'd let her hopes and dreams run wild despite the Queen's threat. In somber moods, she worried constantly about whether she'd be able to protect her child. In other moods, she worried about whether her kid would grow up happily. "What if the baby doesn't like me?" she'd asked James fretfully. He'd replied with something charming about the baby being half-him and it put a smile back on her face.
Snow was roused suddenly from her memories, realising she was standing oustide the entrance to Storybrooke Elementary. How did she end up there? She wondered. The school was empty of course, for the weekend, so she didn't expect there to be a soul in sight.
Her heart slammed in her chest when she noticed a figure sitting on the grass with her back resting against the gate.
"Emma!"
Snow went over and knelt on the ground.
Emma didn't look up or give any sign that she'd noticed. She'd been crying, obviously for a while. Emma was a messy crier. Her face was splotchy-wet and her eyes were red from where she'd been rubbing her fists into them.
She was also clutching her balled-up baby blanket to her middle like it was a lifeline.
"Emma?" said Snow softly. "I'll leave if you want. But I just need to know you're ok."
Emma stared straight ahead. "Do I look ok?" Her voice was rough from sobbing and devoid of any inflection.
"Actually you look terrible," Snow said before she could stop herself.
Emma scoffed with a smile. "Didn't they teach you any tact at Disney Princess school?"
"I didn't go to any – never mind," the pixie-haired woman started to respond before getting the gibe.
"This is pretty crazy huh?" said Emma, quietly. "The curse – fairytales being real – you being my mother."
Emma snuck a look at Snow's face before quickly shifting her eyes.
"I saw the letter," said Snow, after a pause.
Emma nodded. "Henry gave it to me yesterday. He thought it would be proof I couldn't ignore. He was right."
"He usually is. Are you upset?"
Emma finally turned to look at her, exasperated. "Of course I'm upset! An evil queen has cursed a bunch of people to live a zombie-like existence without the ones they love. She's killed for this. And I'm supposed to fight her and–and – save an entire town full of people because of some prophesy? I don't want that. I'm not a hero. I'm not a savior."
"Henry thinks you are. He believes in you."
Emma started to cry again. "I can't win against Regina. She has my SON and I can't even do anything about that!"
"We'll get him back, Emma, don't worry."
Snow handed Emma a lace-edged handkerchief with the initials MM. "You miss her, don't you? Mary Margaret."
"What, no-" Emma tried to deny it. How could she know that? That Emma had hoped it wasn't true was because it meant losing her best friend. The one person who had ever been there for her, the one person who felt like – family.
"Emma, it's ok," said Snow. "I know I'm not her."
Emma sniffed into the balled up hankie.
"But she's not gone either. She's part of me – somewhere." Snow's voiced turned hesitant. "And maybe we could be friends too?"
Emma shook her head and when she finally spoke her voice was thick with tears. "N-no, I want what I've been looking for my whole life."
Snow's heart fluttered hopefully.
"I want my mother - Snow White," whispered Emma and she buried her head into Snow's open arms.