Hey all! Thank you all so much for everything! This story will most likely be coming to end soon so I hope you all like these last few chapters! :)

I do not own OUAT.

Emma couldn't deny it even if she wanted to. The way Mary Margaret looked at her warmed her heart. Made her feel like she belonged. Made her want to belong. As a teenager, Emma craved that feeling of self-worth that always seemed so elusive; something so close but still so out of reach. But as she matured and her view on life altered and hardened, chasing the idea of belonging was no longer a goal in her life. She had learned how to cope with being alone. She worked better that way. And yet, as the brunette's eyes appraised her affectionately, an inkling of that feeling materialized in the pit of her stomach.

What really made her stop though was that it felt so familiar, like she had felt it before, like she had known what it was like to be a part of something and to have someone look at her the way Mary Margaret did right then. It was almost like a memory…

"What are you smiling at?"

Emma blinked and snapped back into reality. "What do you mean?"

"That expression on your face – I believe it's called a smile," the woman grinned.

"Oh, uh, I was just…thinking."

"About?"

"Stuff," Emma replied with a nonchalant shrug, breaking their stare.

To her surprise, Mary Margaret let out a light titter. "Not vague at all. I've always had a distaste for that word. Stuff. It just sounds so…dirty."

"Seriously?" Mary Margaret was such a schoolteacher. "Well what would you use instead of 'stuff'?"

"'Things'. Or 'issues'. Or 'matters'. Actually, I'd use anything else I could think of before I'd pick 'stuff'." Even as she spoke the word, her body cringed. Emma couldn't hide her amusement.

"Okay. Noted. I won't use…that word again. Well, I'll try not to. I'm not going to make any promises."

"So you were thinking about things. What kind of things?"

Uh, and she was doing so well. With a resolved sigh, Emma looked at the brunette again, scratching her head. "I was thinking that this feels familiar. Me and you talking. And I don't just mean as Mary Margaret and Emma but as Snow White and Emma. It doesn't make any sense to me right now but I assume it will in time." She paused for a beat. "We've done a lot of taking since the curse broke, haven't we?"

"Maybe not as much as you think. Self-indulgent family time wasn't exactly a luxury we had. We were kind of thrown into unusual circumstances and found ourselves separated for a while, but there were definitely some much needed conversations."

Emma nodded, remembering Henry mentioning something about Cora and kidnappings and other things that sounded like they'd come straight out of a book.

Straight out of a book.

Suddenly an image snaked its way into the blonde's head and she scrunched her forehead in order to focus on it. She was holding a book – Henry's book, if she looked hard enough, and she was…standing with the boy and her parents near…the town border? Maybe. The pages of the book were being flicked through, showcasing numerous events, yet zoning in on them was impossible. She desperately wanted to make sense of the image or thought or whatever that was but Mary Margaret's soft, contemplative voice managed to drag her back to the present.

"We've always been able to do that though, haven't we? Talk, I mean. It was just so natural with us." If Emma hadn't of been looking at her, she would have assumed the woman was upset but instead, she was smiling widely, a wistful look playing on her features.

It had been. Easy, that was. Emma never felt like she had to be anyone else with Mary Margaret. She could just be Emma – scars and everything - and no matter how many times she was sure the brunette would become fed up with her and kick her out of her home, the woman would do or say something else that obliterated those thoughts. Her friendship meant the world to Emma. "Yeah, it was," the blonde agreed, unable to stop her lips from curling upwards.

"Except for maybe the day you moved in with me," she chuckled, her eyes brightening. "That was the first time I've ever seen you speechless. You just stood in the middle of the apartment with hands shoved into your back pockets, looking down at your feet and not saying a word."

"Hey, I was nervous! Like I told you, I wasn't the roommate type. I'd never really had friends let alone someone who offered to let me live with them, so I was a little…"

"Shy?" the brunette interjected. "Not usually something associated with Emma Swan now, is it?" She was trying to hold back the laughter.

"I wasn't shy; I was nervous," Emma reiterated, though knowing well that Mary Margaret was right. That night Emma was out of her element. Taking up someone's offer, even having an offer to accept, was new to her. That, and she liked Mary Margaret; she worried she'd screw up by saying or doing the wrong thing. "It was a different situation, that's all."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "If that's your story," she said wryly.

"It's the truth," Emma countered.

"Fine." Her mother held up her hands in surrender, her smile still wide. "I wore you down with a hot chocolate anyway."

"I've gotta admit, you know how to break down a person's defences."

Mary Margaret shot her a whimsical look. "No one can resist the power of hot chocolate with cinnamon."

"Maybe you should have used that on Regina back in Fairytale Land," Emma scoffed as she draped her arm gingerly around her abdomen, her other arm pressed against the mattress keeping her body steady.

The brunette snickered. "Oh yeah, imagine that: Snow White and the Evil Queen have hot chocolate over lunch. I can see the headlines now."

As much as it made her head swim with information, hearing Mary Margaret refer to herself as the iconic character she was, was sort of funny. In a way, Emma felt…proud of her friend –and mother – and in another, she was completely bewildered. Such unusual combinations of feelings she was experiencing lately.

"For what it's worth, if that was the headline, I'd buy the paper. If not for the article, at least for the pictures. I mean, imagine the dresses," she said, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks as the other woman beamed at her with the most loving smile Emma had ever witnessed in her life.

She'd have to get used to that. Then again, maybe she already had.

"I was never a dress kind of girl, actually. I had wardrobes filled with the most beautiful, colourful floor-length gowns in all the kingdom but I only wore them on special occasions. I much preferred pants – so much easier to move around the woods in."

"Yeah, I'm not a dress girl either. I think I own, like, two."

"Really? What colours?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Uh, one's navy and the other is pink…I think."

"You own a pink dress?"

"Don't look at me like that. I needed certain outfits for my job." She hastily continued before Mary Margaret could react and fire any more questions about her life. "What I was merely saying was that dresses were never something I felt comfortable in. They're so showy and I'm much happier in something a little subtler." Such a strange conversation. Yet, she couldn't deny the fact that she hadn't felt this light in so long.

"Yeah, me too," the brunette agreed. "Plus, they never really looked well with my bow and arrows."

"You shoot arrows?" That certainly wasn't in the movie she saw growing up.

Mary Margaret pursed her lips sadly, her eyes losing their sparkle for a split-second. "Yeah, it was one of my favourite things to do when I was younger. I, uh, took it up after my mother passed away to help take my mind off things. My father thought it would be good if I channelled my energy into a new hobby. As soon as I shot my first arrow, I fell in love with it." She dropped her stare to her hands that pulled at the bottom of her shirt.

"So Snow White shoots arrows? That's not something I expected."

"No one ever does; it works well in my favour."

Something about the way she said that piqued Emma's curiosity, but there was another thing on her mind. There was a question she wanted to ask but wasn't exactly sure how to ask it. It had been on her mind since she woke up and yet she couldn't bring herself to bring it up. She didn't know why; it wasn't like it was some huge life-altering inquiry. But now seemed like the best time to bite the bullet. "What did I call you…you know, before?"

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret raised her head again, tilting it to the side like she usually did when posing a question. Just one of the many things Emma had learned about her over time.

"Like, how did I address you?"

Her face froze. "Oh. Well, you called me Mary Margaret."

"I did?"

The brunette nodded.

"Did it bother you? Does it bother you?"

"Oh, Emma, no it doesn't. I've been Mary Margaret longer than I've been Snow."

"No," Emma gulped, feeling apprehensive. "I meant, does it bother you that I didn't call you, you know, 'mom'?"

Where was this coming from?!

Her mother drew in a long breath in deliberation. Her eyes never left Emma's. "Well, you did call me that once. Back in the Enchanted Forest when Cora had captured me. I think you thought I didn't hear – but I did."

So she had said 'it' before. That made her mother's heartbreak over her condition more palpable. When Henry had called her 'mom', Emma was sure her heart was ready to burst at the seams. There was nothing like hearing someone you love refer to you in such an affectionate way. Wait so when she woke up from the coma, that was the first time he had called her 'mom', right? Or was there another time? Emma felt oddly used to it; as if she expected him to say it. She shook her head as the concentration resumed its position in the form of a pounding between her eyes again.

"Oh." The blonde winced as she tried to pull her legs up to her chest like she always used to do but it looked like she wasn't going to be able to do that for a little while. They fell limp against the mattress and she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. For not being the 'me' you know." She couldn't bear to look at her in case she started to cry. She did not want to cry. Not yet.

"Emma, it's okay," the woman soothed tenderly.

"But it shouldn't be! How can you just sit there and act like nothing has happened? If I were you and Henry had forgotten all about the time we'd spent together, I don't know if I'd be able to deal with it. I'm not that strong. But you are. You were willing to push aside everything that had happened, every memory we had together as mother and daughter, and just be my friend! How can you just do that?"

Mary Margaret let out a quiet laugh, pushing back hair off her face and, in a moment of courage, took the blonde's hand that lay across her stomach. She pulled her chair as close as it could get to the bed. "I didn't think I was doing that good of a job," she admitted. "I haven't pushed anything aside. In fact, I think I've held them closer to me than ever before. I'm not going to lie, Emma – I don't want to lie. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But then I look at you and I'm so unbelievably grateful that you're alive and breathing and just here. There's nothing else – absolutely nothing else – that keeps my heart beating and helps me keep it together. You may not remember the time we spent together and though I pray that you will one day, that doesn't mean that we can't be the same or even better now. It's not like we don't have the chance. We've all the time in the world." She squeezed her hand softly, letting her thumb map over the valleys and contours that defined it. "And there's no rush; I'm not expecting you to jump in right where we left off. But just know that your father and I will always be here for you when you need us. You never have to be alone again."

Though her memory of being a daughter was hazy to say the least, Emma had never felt more close to the woman sitting beside her. Maybe it was the way she spoke, or the way she looked at her so tenderly as if she was the only person in the entire world. Or maybe it was something else completely; a sliver of connection burning through her mind from a distant time. Either way, Emma became enveloped in an overwhelming sense of familiarity and ease, of being comfortable enough to release the iron grip on her walls just a little. It was a scary feeling, if she were honest with herself. Showing vulnerability, even just a small particle of it, never came naturally to her. It reared its head at the most unusual times, taking her off-guard. And now as she let herself relax in Mary Margaret's presence, she just wanted to talk to her and be around her. Not as the friends they were, but as family. Because that was what they were. And for the first time since she had woke up, she believed that with all her heart.

"Sorry was that too motherly?" the brunette asked, pulling back sheepishly. "I wish I had a sensor that went off when I go too far. Sometimes I just carried away-"

"No, it's okay," Emma cut in with a small smile that reached her eyes. "You shouldn't have to apologise for being who you are. You're a mother and so am I and that's not something I ever want to shy away from again." Against her wishes, a yawn escaped her and the pounding in her head intensified.

"Sounds like you could use some sleep."

"It wouldn't hurt…"

Her mother rose to her feet. "Okay, well, I'll leave you to it."

"No, don't go," she protested, inwardly scolding the child within. "Would you…stay? I never sleep for long anyway."

Mary Margaret's eyes sparkled with tears, her face a well of emotion. "I'd love to stay." She settled back onto her seat, taking the blonde's hand again.

Emma's eyelids gradually closed. "If you want, maybe you could tell me some stories from when we were in Fairytale Land?"

As she drifted off, she was sure she could hear the response. "There's nothing I would want more."

Charming climbed the stairs of the apartment block, suppressing the piercing cries of his aching body. Not only did his ribs still feel like they were rattling with every movement, the burns he had acquired on his stomach and thighs itched like hell. He missed the medication the hospital had him on; the only thing he could take now were painkillers and they did nothing to ease the dull throb that held him captive. Add that to his twice daily routine of rubbing a horrible sour coconut-scented ointment into the wounds and it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences to say the least.

What struck him about the walk up to the apartment was that, from the outside, everything looked the way it always had. Completely unperturbed by the flames. It was only when he pushed the door open was the destruction seen.

The harsh light from the doorway spilled into the blackened, charred hovel, illuminating the damage. It was barely recognizable. Were it not for his innate knowledge of the layout, David would have been totally lost. Nothing was untouched by the event.

His eyes filled with tears as he thought of how upset Snow was when he told her how bad the damage was. She was going to be crushed.

But the loss of items of clothing or pieces of jewellery didn't mean much to David. The only thing, the only possession he cared about uncovering was Emma's baby blanket. Though neither Snow nor Emma had mentioned anything about it, he knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them brought up its whereabouts.

And he wanted to find it for himself, too. That blanket was the only important remnant left of their life back in the Enchanted Forest. His baby was wrapped in that blanket, enveloped in his arms as he put his life on the line so that she could get to safety. It was the only possession she owned that came from them.

He had to find it.

"It's about time you got here." Charming let out a quiet laugh as Grumpy sauntered over to him swinging a torch. "The brothers and I were beginning to wonder if you'd show."

"Sorry, my movement's not what it used to be. But what's important is that I'm here now. How's it going?"

"Not great," the dwarf proclaimed in his usual gravelly voice. "Emma really did all this?"

"That's not the point, Leroy," David was quick to throw in. He didn't want Emma to shoulder the blame for something that was out of her control and he sure as hell didn't want other people passing judgement on her. His daughter was already too hard on herself as it was.

"I was just gonna say that it's pretty darn impressive. I bet she could give anyone a run for their money in this town." He gestured for Charming to follow as he ventured into the wreckage.

"Yeah well, I don't think she's too keen on thinking about magic right now."

"Still no change?"

David turned to the side to see Ruby, along with Happy and Doc, trying to make sense of the mess. She gazed at him sympathetically, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No, not really. Whale said it could take some time."

"How's Snow doing?"

Charming sighed. "Not too good. She tries so hard to be strong but I think I underestimated how much this hurt her. She hasn't been herself since she found out."

"Emma will remember soon. I know it."

"I hope so."

"Of course she will; if anyone can trigger anything in that blonde head of hers, it's Snow," Grumpy chimed, thrusting a box into David's chest, causing him to yelp.

"Uh, Leroy," he choked, "cracked ribs, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, sorry." Ruby stared at him incredulously, her eyes menacing in the dark. "Woah, cool it, sister. I forgot; sue me."

"What is all this stuff?"

"Anything we could find that looked like it hadn't been destroyed by the fire...which was not a lot."

Angling the box into his elbow, David used an arm to rifle through the items, most of which were just meaningless possessions. A clock, a few forks, a magnet that read 'World's Greatest Teacher', a couple of books, some ornaments and a doorknob. No blanket.

"Any sign of Emma's baby blanket?" he whispered hopelessly.

"Not that we've seen," Ruby replied softly. "I've been trying to track it but all I can smell in here is burnt wood."

"The stairs up to Emma's bedroom are pretty unstable; we've only tried to go up once and the bannister gave way. Dopey nearly broke his neck…idiot," Leroy grumbled as he dropped his stare to the ground, unable to meet the Prince's eyes. "I don't know if we'll be able to check up there."

They couldn't find his daughter's most treasured possession. What was he going to tell Snow? Or worse, what was he going to tell Emma?

"Grandpa?"

David whirled around to see Henry standing in the doorway. He looked much taller against the conflicting light. "Henry? What are you doing here?"

"I wanna help," he shrugged, his toothy grin on display.

The man ushered over to the boy, casting the box aside and crouching down to his level. "I appreciate the thought, buddy, but it's not safe for you to be here. You could get hurt."

"I'm not a little kid, you know. I can help," the boy insisted.

"I know you're not but you're my grandson and I need you to stay safe, okay?" Charming struggled upright and ruffled the kid's hair.

Henry sighed, seemingly realizing that there was no way around his grandfather. "Okay, but did I hear you guys talking about Emma's baby blanket?"

He scrunched his face and rested his hands on his hips, his eyes tight. "Yeah, you did, kid. We can't find it and even if we did, I'm pretty sure it would have been pretty badly damaged."

Suddenly the boy removed his backpack and knelt down on the floor. Unzipping the top, he plunged his hand in.

"Henry, what are you doing?"

Silently, the boy yanked out the contents and it all became clear.

Henry had Emma's baby blanket.

David gasped and reached down to take the blanket in his hands. "But how…?" he asked, looking at his grandson through tear-filmed eyes.

"When I was going to my mom's to stay, you know, before all this happened, I wanted to bring something of Emma's with me. It's stupid but she had only been back a few days and I just wanted a piece of her with me. I didn't tell her I was taking it; I just shoved it into my backpack." His head bowed and his voice wracked with guilt, Henry looked every inch of the eleven-year-old boy he was.

"And because Regina cast a protection spell, it was safe in your bag."

"I guess so."

Smiling like a fool as he ran his hands along the embroidered bottom, and feeling nothing but intense gratitude, David pulled Henry into a tight hug. "What do you say to a hot chocolate in Granny's before we go see how your mom is doing?"

Henry broke away. "Yeah, cool," he smiled.

It was a dark room. Black walls, no windows, red door. A single lightbulb lit overhead but it did nothing to illuminate the space. And it was cold. Not freezing, but cool enough to send a chill down the spine. Emma wrapped her arms around her body, trying to retain body heat but she became preoccupied with what she was wearing. She wasn't in a hospital gown anymore; but a pair of tight-fitting jeans, black tank top and boots, and a burgundy leather jacket.

"What is going on?" she whispered aloud, the sound echoing off the walls and bouncing back to her louder, ringing in her ears.

Breathing heavily and totally freaked out, Emma dashed to the red door, grasping at the handle and desperately pleading with it to open. She kicked and pushed and slammed her fists against it to try to make it bend to her will but nothing happened.

Suddenly, the dim light extinguished and Emma was left alone in complete darkness. She grabbed a groove on the door to keep herself calm. But her heart pounded erratically, and there was no stopping it.

Then she heard it. And saw it.

Mary Margaret's voice wisped through the air; her words splayed in dazzling white on the walls, appearing and disappearing in quick succession. Repeating over and over again.

"You found us."

"We're together...finally..."

"No, I came through to be with you."

So. Creepy.

Pinching her forehead in confusion and concentration, Emma found herself listening intently to the words, trying to place where she had heard them before. Because she had heard them before. Before it began its fourth rotation, Emma backed into the door and gasped as the structure gave way behind her and she fell out on the hard ground underneath.

Groaning, she turned on her side to gauge her surroundings. Thankfully it was not another coal room but somewhere still as desolate and despairing. It looked like a castle. No, it was a castle. Emma planted her hands on the cobbles and used them to push her body to its feet. She had been there before. No, she wasn't sure when or why or how that was even possible but she had definitely been there before.

A faint cry of an infant caught her attention and, perhaps her maternal instinct kicking in, Emma followed the sound, moving toward a door in the distance. As she quickened her pace, her worry inflated and she found herself marching toward the ever increasing cries though still unsure of what was happening. Finally reaching the door, the wails ceased and were instead replaced with a woman's voice rising above her. And not just any woman's voice, but that of her mother.

"I was going to teach you how to walk in here. How to talk. How to dress for your first ball. We never got to do any of it. We never got to be a family."

"I'm not used to someone putting me first."

"Well get used to it."

Luckily these words weren't flung all around her but that didn't take away from the eeriness of her words reverberating around the castle. Emma unlocked the door and was met with a baby's nursery. The soft pinks and yellows were a breath of fresh air and the echoing sentences were no longer weird but oddly calming. She ambled over to the crib and a splash of purple caught her eye.

Her baby blanket was sitting in the corner of the crib surrounded by a zoo of stuffed animals. She drew in a shaky breath and took a step back in an attempt to make sense of all this. This was her nursery.

"You look like your father."

Her nursery. Or, so she thought. It sure seemed that way.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Feeling suffocated, she inhaled deeply again and closed her eyes. This was all becoming way too much; a haziness had taken over and she was sure the floor was going to fall away under her feet at any given moment. It was like everything she had known was slowly dissolving away and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And then she heard her own voice, screaming out.

"Mom, please wake up!"

Her eyes darted open and she breathed a sigh of relief to know she was still in a castle. Only now, she was in a dungeon. Great. Just the place she wanted to go. If this was any other situation she would have just rolled her eyes but she was pretty sure there was some deeper meaning to all of this.

"Is she dead?"

Hearing the fear and the heartbreak loaded behind that question sparked tears in her eyes. There was something so surreal about hearing your own voice and connecting that pain to the moment in which it was said. It was here – in the dungeon.

She ran her hands along what was left of the bars, eyeing the rubble and dismantled shackles. Her heart constricted hastily. Someone else was talking. It was…it was…ugh, who was it? She buried her head in her hands and willed herself to remember. It was there; she knew it. She knew it.

Cora!

"Why, you used magic, my dear."

"I'm going to kill you and she's going to watch."

Her sneer crawled down Emma's spine and the image of her curled malevolent lips flashed in the blonde's mind, making her furious. The blood coursed through her limbs, causing a tingling sensation. A familiar sensation. Just as she was about to clench her fists, Mary Margaret's steely response shattered her vision, like she was physically there, putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her. To tell her it was going to be okay.

"You think you know my family...if there's one thing my family does, it's fight for the people we love...I will do everything in my power to protect my daughter."

And then, in that moment, it was like the floodgates had opened wide and Emma was encompassed by various images and voices all swirling and twirling and spinning…

And Emma's head hurt. But she kept her eyes peeled open, examining each image and listening to each and every word said, tears streaming down her face as she, too, began to spin along with them.

"I know you could never hurt anyone you care about no matter how powerful you are..."

"You're right...I won't look at you the way I used to before the curse was broken. Now I look at you and my heart swells with joy and love and I can hardly believe that I have you back in my life. I see my daughter; someone I love so much. So you're right, it won't be like before."

"We will always be friends. We will always be family."

"I love you, Emma; always have, always will."

"Mary Margaret?"

"Yes, Emma?"

"I just want you to know that I...I love you, too."

And then it all stopped and she was in the apartment. Only, she wasn't alone. She was over by the counter but her father sat on the couch with…what appeared to be herself. Right. Now things really were crazy. She tried to grab their attention by yelling and flinging towels and paper napkins at them but nothing. They didn't see or hear her.

"Look, I know what's going to happen here," she sniffed, though understanding they couldn't hear her. "David's going to tell me that he's happy I'm back and that he missed me, and I'm going to tell him that I missed him too and then we're gonna hug." She leaned her forearms onto the counter and pushed her weight onto her lower body watching the scene unfold, still letting the tears flow freely.

It was rather touching actually.

"I'm so glad you're okay; that you're back home where you belong. Where we all belong. Together as a family."

"Oh, Emma, I missed you. I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too."

"So you remember?"

"What?" Emma turned her head to side and almost jumped on top of the counter when she saw Henry's figure lurking beside the refrigerator. "Oh my God! When did you get there?" she demanded, flinging her hand up to her heart in shock.

"Who says I haven't been here the whole time?"

"I would have seen you."

"I don't know; I've always been really good at hide-and-seek." The kid joined her by the counter, taking up the same position she had seconds before.

"What are you doing here, kid? What's going on?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, you tell me. It's your dream."

"I'm dreaming?"

"Yep. And it looks like it's helped you to remember."

"It…did? It…did. It did. I remember. Henry, I remember!" She grabbed him by the arms and looked deep into his eyes. "How did this happen?"

"I'm not sure, but you've had dreams before, right? Like, important dreams. Dreams that meant something or showed you something. I guess this was one of them."

"So I just fell asleep and all of a sudden my subconscious wants to help me out?"

"Well you asked your mom to tell you stories as you feel asleep, didn't you?"

Emma nodded.

Henry looked at her meaningfully. "I think you had to want to remember and be willing to remember on your own terms; not because you felt like you had to or because it was the right thing to do, but because you really wanted to have all those memories back. It's sort of like when Gramps had to win Grandma back when she drank that potion to forget him; he couldn't make her remember until she wanted to."

Emma processed that for a minute. "So Mary Margaret's stories and my dreams are helping me to remember and my son is the voice of reason? Someone please tell me this is not going to be a recurring thing," she mumbled, her head starting to hurt badly.

"Oh, I think you're waking up!" he exclaimed happily. "See you on the other side!"

Everything in front of her face began to twist and misshape until it all went black.

Snow saw Emma stir and put down the magazine she was reading so she could take Emma's hand.

"Hey there, sleepy head," she greeted warmly.

"Hey," Emma replied sleepily, slapping her forehead with the heel of her other hand.

"Are you okay?"

The blonde looked at her with interested eyes. "I'm not sure."

"What…what does that mean?" Snow could feel the panic rise within her again. Unfortunately, it was a feeling she was becoming all too acquainted with.

"I think…I think I remember."

Okay, so what did you all think? I was trying to come up with a way of Emma remembering without it being something simple like a trigger; I wanted it to come back with a bang! Haha although I probably didn't pull it off and it probably reads terribly. If it does…I'm sorry. But I really, truly hope you all enjoyed it and reviews are greatly appreciated :)

Oh, and how about Manhattan? I mean, seriously. It was awesome!