Hey all! Sorry this one was a little later than usual! Life has been…well, a bit weird lately! Ha oh and thank you all so much – you guys rock! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Alas, I do not own OUAT.

Outside the light faded into a sinister twilight as Snow stared at her reflection in the mirror in their room at Granny's. The longer she stayed looking at it, the more frustrated she became. She had enough of mirrors, had enough of seeing her worn expression glaring back at her.

David would be back soon from the hospital. He called her earlier when Ruby had taken her out to buy a few more outfits and told her that he was going to swing by the apartment on his way home and see if there was anything worth salvaging but she knew he'd be at the door any minute. And she couldn't wait to feel his strong embrace, holding her body - and maybe even her heart – in place. She needed to feel it.

The rain had finally ceased, coating the pavements with its slick layer but the perturbed deep grey of the sky indicated that there was more to come. Tumultuous clouds hovered just above the buildings as if waiting for the right moment to come down and smother the town in an all-consuming invasion.

Storybrooke had never looked so miserable before.

Snow turned her back on the mirror, her shoulders hunched as she left her hands latched to the edge of the dresser on which it was mounted, and gazed around the room. There wasn't much to the space; aside from the mahogany dresser and the double bed dressed in floral, there was a small wardrobe next to the window and a few pictures that seemed to depict nothing at all, topped off with a distressed wine carpet.

And yet even though she was alone, there was an odd comfort emanating from the cream walls that made her feel safe. Warm.

Grateful didn't even begin to describe how Snow felt at being given a room to stay until both she and Charming found a place for their family. That is, if Emma even wanted to live with them. She wasn't sure of much anymore. It was safe to say that Snow had been thrown off the track, her world tilted on its axis as soon as Emma confessed to forgetting. She didn't want to feel upset or angry or whatever else she was feeling throughout the course of the day, yet she couldn't help it. She just felt so helpless and there was no other feeling she hated more.

Snow was a survivor; someone who learned how to fend for herself and fight her own battles – she was a fighter. Pro-active. Always thinking, always finding ways to fix a situation and help someone. Except this time, she wasn't sure what she should do. Whale suggested talking to Emma but she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't burst into tears as soon as she laid eyes on her.

She stumbled over to the bed, tripping over her own feet. Great, now she couldn't even walk anymore. She allowed herself to fall backwards and let her body rest against the soft mattress, her fingers brushing through her short raven hair. Her eyes perused the cracked magnolia ceiling as if looking for answers when she heard the lock shake and the doorknob twist.

Jerking upright at the sound, the door swung open to reveal a sheepish Charming holding his hands in the air as though in surrender. "Sorry," he mumbled with a slight grin, "Ruby gave me the extra key. I should have warned you first."

Sighing, Snow fell back onto the bed.

"I take that means I can come in."

The door closed and her husband shuffled over to join her, flinging his key, jacket and a bag onto the ground and crawling beside her. It was reminiscent of their times back at the palace; on more than one occasion Charming had walked into their bed chamber only to see Snow lying on the bed, staring into space in her own little worry bubble. He would just lie next to her and take her hand until she was ready to talk.

As if on cue, she felt his rough fingers weave through hers. Knowing that something as simple as that could bring her comfort, Snow dragged her thumb across his knuckles, feeling the physical reminders of the turbulent life they once led. "How is she?" she whispered, turning her head to look at him.

"Receptive," he replied with a ghost of a smile. "She's really tired and I think she's still in a lot of pain but she's not as far away as I thought she would be. There's something there, however small that may be, I don't know, but it's something."

Snow nodded profusely, drinking in his words. "What about the apartment?"

David reached over and ran a finger along her jaw. "It's pretty bad," he whispered.

Her eyes became glassy. Her home was gone. Of course she had known that but it was one of those things that she cast to the back of her mind while they dealt with Emma that now had to be addressed. Though it was only small and often had its fair share of problems like its lack of ability to retain any kind of heat or have hot water on occasion, it was still the place where she had spent twenty-eight years of her life. The apartment was hers; it was home.

And now it was gone.

A tear trickled down her face and she immediately batted it away, feeling foolish.

"Snow, it's okay to be upset about it. It was your home."

"I just feel silly. I know it was just a tiny apartment but it was where I lived, you know? I ate there. I slept there. I had some great moments and some not-so-great moments in all the time I spent there. It was the one place in Storybrooke that was mine, that was just for me and no one else. It's just kind of surreal to think of it as being gone." She sniffed and pouted as another tear spilled. "I don't suppose there was anything left?"

"It was hard to see with the light today so I've rounded up the dwarves and we're gonna go first thing in the morning."

"Okay, good." Snow turned away and placed a hand over her face as she thought of all the things the fire had most likely incinerated. Images of random objects swam through her mind, none of them particularly sentimental but still things she had collected over time, possessions that she had acquired through whatever means that belonged to her and the life she had led for a lifetime.

"I did manage to find one thing though," David declared, stretching away from her and extending his free arm over the edge of the bed to grab the bag on the floor. "It's a little rough around the edges but I think it's in pretty good shape all considering."

Snow sat up to get a better look. David unzipped the bag and rifled through its contents until he pulled out a dusty picture frame. Without a word, he pulled himself upright and handed it to her.

Snow's eyes widened. "Oh my…" she breathed.

She couldn't believe it. The picture of her and Emma that sat on the kitchen counter had survived the blaze with barely a scratch. With a cloth and some elbow grease, it would be as good as new. Almost as if nothing had happened to it.

She wondered if it was some kind of a sign.

Her fingertips traced the outer rim of the frame, her eyes glued to the happy expressions each woman wore, remembering what felt like a much simpler time.

"You know, I couldn't find anything else," David said softly, placing a light hand on the small of her back while the other hugged his side. "That," he pointed to the item in her hands she was clutching onto for dear life, "was the only thing – that I could see – that was still in one piece. It was just sitting on top of a pile of ash next to the beat-up counter. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to bring it back to you; you needed to be reminded of something very important."

"And what's that?" She finally peeled her eyes away to look at the man.

"That Emma loves you. Regardless of anything else you think right now at this moment in this room, she loves you. And I assure you that she has long before the curse was broken. Long before her past caught up with her." He leaned over to press his forehead to hers. "You need to remember that. You're a passionate person, Snow; you feel things on a deep level, but if there's one thing you don't let your emotions do, it's stop you from moving forward." Pulling away to kiss her forehead, he caressed her cheek, gazing into her eyes, into her soul. "Don't let this be the first time something has stopped you. See her. Talk to her. Be there for her. Be her friend, Snow. That's what she needs right now. If anyone can break her curse, it's you."

She closed her eyes momentarily in acceptance. Charming was right – Emma did love her. Though she had never verbally expressed that sentiment to her while they were roommates, it was obvious that she cared a great deal about Mary Margaret; that perhaps best shown through the blonde's endless attempts to clear her name after that Kathryn incident that Snow would rather not dwell on.

But it was truth.

Snow readjusted herself on the bed, pulling her legs up so that she was kneeling in front of David. "So that was your speech, huh?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Pretty much. How'd I do?"

"Surprisingly good."

"Surprisingly good?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow at his wife.

"Well I think it was a refreshing change from your 'I will always find you' speech. I'll be happy if I don't have to hear that one again!" she teased, planting her hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, that was some of my finest work!" David cried in mock betrayal.

"Yes, of course it was, honey," she appeased.

He chuckled heartily, cracking a wide grin. "Well?" he posed.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to take my advice and go and talk to your daughter?" The way he worded the question punched through the playful atmosphere that had taken hold of them for a brisk moment and shot right at the heart of the matter.

Snow crumpled back on to the bed and exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes on her husband's affectionate gaze. "Of course I am. I would be there 24/7 if it was possible. I just don't want to scare her and feel her push us away."

"You won't scare her; she's the perfect blend of me and you – strong until the very end."

Snow shook her head. "I don't know; I learnt pretty quickly that Emma Swan does not like her walls being attacked."

"But you've broken through them before," he pointed out candidly.

Good point.

"Yes but I'm not sure how, or even if, I can do it again."

"Trust me; you'll know exactly what to do when the time comes. Just talk to her as her friend, as Mary Margaret, and I guarantee that something will get through to Emma. Don't let fear stop you from rekindling the relationship you have with your daughter."

Of course he was right. He usually was when it came to Snow. It was like he could see past everything and zone in on whatever issue plagued her with a single glance. It was quite the party trick, actually.

"Well, thank you Oprah for your incredible insight," Snow said, dashing over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Have you ever even watched Oprah?"

The brunette shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really remember."

He shook his head and smiled, taking her into his arms and laying them down onto the bed. Her head nestled into his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her, Snow felt…clearer. Clearer than she had in days.

She tightened her hold, hoping to stay like this a little while longer.

"Eh, Snow?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you ease up a bit? Still recovering from cracked ribs here," he strained.

"Oops, sorry," she said bashfully as she loosened her grip and lay her hand on his stomach.

"Thanks," he breathed, kissing the top of her head.

A cacophony of sounds startled Snow into wakening early the next morning. She groaned and yanked the pillow over her ear but the crash of what sounded like glass colliding with the floor forced her to take a look at what was going on.

Charming was knelt on the floor, cursing under his breath, trying to clean up the mess he made. The shards on the carpet looked like the remains of a tiny glass wolf figurine; apparently Ruby liked to have one in each room in the Bed and Breakfast.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

"I, uh, was trying not to disturb you."

"Well you didn't do a good job of that," she quipped, matting down her errant hair.

"I guess not," he admitted, brushing the remaining bits of the ornament into his cupped hand.

"The wolf figurine?" Snow asked, gesturing to his hands.

David nodded. "I was picking up my key and I guess I hit against it and well, it's no more." He threw the pieces into the bin. "Do you think Ruby will notice?"

"Probably."

Charming made a fist and gently punched his hand. "Ah."

Climbing out from under the covers, Snow trudged over to her husband. "Don't worry," she winked, "I'll soften her for you."

"Gee, thanks," he laughed, collecting his bag from beside the dresser.

"So you're meeting up with the dwarves?"

"Yep. We're gonna meet at the apartment and take it from there." He slung it over his shoulder, wincing slightly as he overexerted with his arm.

"Are you sure you're okay to go and rummage through the apartment? Whale did say to take it easy; I don't think this is what he had in mind."

"Snow, I'm fine," David assured. "I've suffered far worse than a few cracked ribs. Remember when I was shot with an arrow by a certain fugitive?" he asked coyly. "It took me weeks to get full feeling back in my arm. This is nothing."

"Whatever you say, Charming," Snow sighed. She already knew he was hurting – the pain settled behind his ocean eyes a dead giveaway but she bit her tongue from scolding him. He'd learn his lesson the hard way later.

"So when are you going to see Emma?"

"Oh I'll get dressed and maybe grab a coffee and a few magazines before I go." She crossed her arms and looked everywhere else except at her husband. She didn't want him to see how nervous she was – which was just so ridiculous. What kind of mother was she that she was scared to visit her daughter in the hospital? What did that say about her as a person?

He probably sensed the anxiety radiating off her but, being the charming guy he was, he said nothing and instead opted to give her a soft kiss on her forehead. "Say hi for me?"

"Of course," she smiled.

He stopped for a second to look at her meaningfully. "Be her Mary Margaret, Snow." He cupped her cheek. "I'll see you later," he whispered before leaving the room…and Snow alone.

Granny's diner had a unique buzz about it as Snow finally gained enough motivation to get ready and buy a coffee. Ruby was overly enthusiastic as she served the customers and there was hardly a seat available. People chatted and laughed in every corner, all enjoying the brighter morning following the desolate one yesterday. As Snow waited for the brew, she couldn't help but feel jealous. Everywhere she looked there were happy faces and care-free attitudes as if they were rubbing their uncomplicated lives in her face. None of them seemed to be dealing with a daughter the same age as them who used magic that nearly killed her and then contributed to her forgetting a chunk of her life.

All Snow wanted was for her family to be like the people that surrounded her: happy, care-free, healthy, relaxed. That wasn't too much to ask was it?

Today was the day Emma was going to try and sit up. Not that she had much faith in that happening, though. It seemed that every time she put a certain amount of pressure on her hands to help push upright, they would falter and she'd slip back onto the mattress. The burns on her legs still itched and aggravated like hell and so using them to propel her was out of the question.

As she fell back down again for the sixth time, she figured she'd need help. But while she was being checked on by numerous nurses, she could never pluck up enough courage to ask. Of course she would only be shy when she really needed help.

She threw her head back against the pillow in frustration at…everything. Dreams escaped her during the night which meant that she was still no closer to remembering anything and the more she pushed herself to delve into the absolute corners of her mind, the more upset she became at failing to come up with anything.

Why couldn't she just remember? Why was it so hard?

Her anger rising in the pit of her stomach, Emma steeled herself and inhaled sharply through her teeth as she applied as much pressure on her hands as possible without crying out in agony and pushed, all the while dragging her body into a seating position. She kept her eyes closed throughout the process, as if keeping them open would somehow hamper the movement.

"You're sitting," a voice said proudly from across the room. Emma didn't need her eyes to know who that was.

Be her Mary Margaret.

That one sentence was like a mantra for Snow on her journey to the hospital. She wasn't quite sure how to do that – her maternal instincts were already in overdrive as it was. There was no way to quieten them.

Though she hoped that as she tried to be more her friend than her mother that it would all come so naturally to her.

But then she saw Emma use all of her energy to defy her body's cries and before she could talk herself out of it, she was talking and looking at her as only a proud mother could. Those looks she had perfected.

"I am?" the blonde asked. "Oh, I am!" Her elation was infectious. Snow wondered how long she had been trying to sit up in the bed.

"How does it feel?"

"You have no idea," she laughed once, her smile still there.

All the brunette could do was beam back…which suddenly unnerved her daughter who dropped her stare to her hands. Hoping to salvage the moment, Snow reached into her bag and pulled out a few magazines. "I brought you these in case you got bored," she expressed, handing them to the woman.

"Thanks." Emma examined them one by one, flicking through the issues.

"I'm actually not sure what kind of magazines you like considering I don't think I've ever see you read one but I figured that I couldn't go wrong if I went with an eclectic mix."

Emma held up one into the light. "Barbed Wire Monthly?" she asked, turning to Snow with an amused expression.

"Well…it could be an enticing read."

"I'll save that one for my sleepless nights." She put the pile to the side of the bed. "It was really nice of you to do that. Thanks."

"Oh, no problem. You'd do the same for me." Was that an okay thing to say? She was almost certain Emma would do something similar if she were in a similar position.

"Are you going to sit down? You're kind of making me nervous."

Not needing to be asked twice, Snow shifted her weight onto the plastic chair. The two women sat in silence for what felt like years; Emma interested in her nails and Snow in her wedding ring. Things had never been like this before. The awkwardness seeped into every nook and cranny of the room, whipping around them in a frenzy.

"David says hi," Snow eventually remembered. "He's out with the dwarves but he wanted me to tell you that."

"Oh. Tell him I said hi, too."

"I will," Snow nodded over-enthusiastically. She tried not to stare at the blonde but sometimes it couldn't be helped. She just wanted to protect her and care for her and tell her that she loved her but the time wasn't right. Would the time ever be right?

"This is ridiculous, Emma!" she huffed with chagrin.

Emma shot back in confusion. "What is?"

"All this – everything. Me and you sitting here and acting as if we hardly know one another. We're best friends. Things shouldn't be like this; we should be able to just talk."

"Things are different now. We can't just be Mary Margaret and Emma."

"But why not?"

"'Cause…well…uh you're…you're…you know," Emma stuttered, scratching above her eyebrow.

Snow sighed resolutely, slapping her hands onto her lap. "I know. But that doesn't mean that we can't try to be the friends we were. I told you once that it might be difficult but that I believed that we could be even better friends because of this…change." Saying the word 'mother' didn't really seem like such a good idea, not when Snow was convinced that she saw something flash across Emma's features – something along the lines of…recognition? The brunette wasn't exactly well versed in expression-reading though at this particular point she wished she was.

Emma's eyelids fluttered toward her mother but her shoulders hunched in a rather childlike gesture. Snow thought her heart would burst. Maybe it already had…

"How can you be so sure? How can you say that and mean it? This," she waved her hand between them, "is not normal. It's so much to take in and it's going to take time – a lot of time – to fully grasp and I'm sorry for that but I don't know what you want me to say or do to make this any better. I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I. But we've been doing a good job of it so far. It's not without its difficulties but whoever said it would be easy? I wasn't expecting you to jump into my arms and continue as if nothing was different. I know you, Emma; I knew this was going to be a challenge." She paused to take the blonde's hand, praying that Emma didn't pull away. Thankfully, she didn't. Yet. "But it's a challenge that I intend to win no matter what it takes."

"I just…" she trailed off to catch her breath, clearly at war with herself. The brunette wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. Let's go with good. "I just feel like I've lost my best friend. I've only ever had one other one in my life when I was a teenager but you were the best friend I've ever had – the best person I've ever known. To lose that – it's so painful. More so than these stupid bandages and the burning that travels through my body whenever I breathe."

Her stomach twisted into a knot upon hearing her daughter's plight and it took all of her willpower not to smother her in overbearing affection and consideration. But she had Emma talking and that was too good a situation to overlook. She may never get that chance again. She had to indulge in the line of conversation. Looking down at their hands and the way they perfectly fit in to one another, Snow summoned a sad smile.

"I feel like I've lost my best friend, too," she confessed, tugging her arm so that she'd look at her. Emma had professed her distaste for that particular gesture – she thought it was such a motherly thing to do. There was a bubbling hope inside of her that hoped it would spark some form of memory in the blonde.

"Really?"

"Of course. Emma Swan was Mary Margaret Blanchard's first ever best friend and as much as you think otherwise right now, I'm still Mary Margaret. I maybe a slightly more self-assured version, but I'm still her. She's still me. That hasn't changed."

"Except it has. You may still look the same but you don't sound like her."

"But Emma those things that made me Mary Margaret are still there," she argued, attempting to reach a point in her daughter's walls where she could break through.

The blonde took a deep breath, her gaze fixated at a spot just above Snow's head. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as Snow had ever heard it. Like a quiet, lilting confession of a child. "Maybe. But you're not just Mary Margaret my friend; you're Mary Margaret my mother. I look at you and my instant reaction is to view you as the person who has been there for me when no one else was; someone who never judged me," she proclaimed, biting her bottom lip in hesitation. Snow didn't dare interrupt, but she had a feeling where this was going. "But then the view changes and instead I see the person who gave me up. Who put me in a wardrobe and sent me to a completely foreign land in the hope that one day I'd find you and rescue all the people from a terrible curse. Part of me thinks that selfish of you; you put your minutes old baby into some magical contraption for the sole purpose that they'd come back and fight this significant battle. But another part of me understands why you did it: you wanted to protect me and give me a better chance at life. I did the same thing for Henry. It's just that…my whole life has been determined by my being alone; every day I woke up thinking my parents abandoned me and that there was something wrong with me because they never came back. Being alone was my curse. By saving me from one, I was thrust into another one just as painful." Pausing to collect her words and to control the emotion literally spilling out of her, Emma voice began to shake as she continued. "So I look at you and I'm conflicted; I'm angry and upset and confused and then I'm understanding and forgiving and I just don't know what to think anymore!" Emma buried her face in her hands, breathing heavily.

Tears fell down Snow's cheeks, collecting at her chin, at everything the blonde had shared. She had heard other versions of course back before Emma's memory was lost but there was something so poignant about hearing it from the woman now as they sat beside one another in the hospital. What could she say that would help Emma? The nursery wasn't there for affirmation of her love. The only way she could get through to her was through words.

She just hoped that she had the right ones.

Drawing courage from somewhere, Snow pulled back the blonde, curly locks away from Emma's face and left her hand rest on the back of her daughter's head. She was not going to be deterred. "Do you want to know about that day? The day we sent you away?" Emma met her eyes. "I say this with wholehearted honesty Emma when I say that it was the most painful thing I've ever done. I held you in my arms and it was the most amazing out-of-body experience. You were mine. You were ours. We had created something so magical, so special, and so beautiful out of our love and you belonged to us – no one else. I had a daughter. Someone I had only known mere seconds and who I loved unconditionally and would do anything for. And anything included saving you from the threat looming. I acted instinctively; I decided to put you first before absolutely everything else. Did you know that your father thought I was crazy? And in a way I was; I was crazy with the thought of getting you to safety. That was all that mattered." She leaned forward, her heartbroken expression reflected in Emma's glassy eyes. "Oh Emma I wanted nothing more than for you to stay with us but we couldn't let Regina get near you. Ever since the curse broke, I've lived with the repercussions of that decision knowing what I do about what your life was like without us and every day I wish it was all different and that, somehow, we could have all stayed together and been a family like we'd always wanted. And I can't tell you how sorry we are, Emma. I know it's not enough but I'm so sorry."

Mary Margaret's speech brought Emma to tears and she found herself swimming in warm familiarity. As if she'd heard it before. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. She watched as the woman moved backward, smearing the tears with her sleeve, trying to rein it all in. she couldn't put a finger on it but she had a feeling that she had experienced something like this moment before. Well, she did technically, but this was the first time where she felt like this moment with Mary Margaret was normal in the sense that it only brought her comfort. She could feel the love and affection in every word battering down her defences and weaselling its way into her heart. She cared about Mary Margaret as her friend, but now she was beginning to care about Mary Margaret – Snow White – as her mother.

"So…what next?" she sniffed with a light laugh which invited one from the brunette.

I ended it there because it was getting a little too long, but I will pick it up where it left off at the start of the next chapter and I will try really hard to make it more light-hearted! Haha so what did you all think? Was it too much? I really do hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have time please let me know what you thought :)