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Alas, I do not own OUAT.
With Henry staying with Regina until the following day, Emma decided to allow herself the luxury of relaxing at the dinner table with her parents. Well, relaxing as much as she could despite the circumstances. David was obviously bursting with questions about what had happened earlier but he thankfully kept them to himself while they ate.
She thinking too much to eat though. Rather, she spiralled her fork menacingly around the plate, the utensil chasing the unsuspecting pasta as if it were a predator stalking its prey. Her head lolled to the side resting on her hand, she caught the looks her parents were sharing when they assumed she wasn't looking.
Ha, that was funny idea - she was always looking. Mainly because her parents had their own special way of communicating with their eyes and, like an eager child, Emma always wanted to know what they were saying to one another and more importantly, what they were saying about her. It was no secret that the obstinate blonde was a regular feature of their parental one-on-one discussions. The ability to read their minds would be incredibly advantageous.
Emma let the first few pointed looks slide but when she caught another one she sighed and dropped her fork onto the plate with a stinging ping. "Something you want to share with the class?" she directed at her father, raising her eyebrows and folding her arms onto the table. All table etiquette went out the window the minute the silence elongated so that Snow White and Prince Charming could engage in their telepathy. Plus, Henry wasn't there so she didn't have to set any examples.
David hesitated, his fork swaying in front of his mouth, begging to enter. His eyes flickered to his wife.
"Oh no," Emma interjected with an outstretched arm. "No more of these little looks between the two of you. If you have something to say, then say it. Don't treat me like I'm not here."
The man looked longingly at his fork decorated in food and with a sigh, gently placed it on his plate. "I just want to know who that guy is. Neal," he informed, looking at Mary Margaret but she kept her eyes trained on her dinner. "And Snow refuses to tell me anything."
Emma hid a smile; her mom always had her back. But she didn't want to get into all the gory details of her past; not when she had just experienced a tiny sliver of peace, not when there was a lovely, steaming, so-good-smelling plate of cheesy pasta taunting her. "Can we do this, you know, later?"
What she had discovered about David was that he was the first one to back down and give in to Emma. Not that she liked to brag or anything, but she liked to think she had him wrapped around her little finger. It was kind of nice being considered a 'Daddy's Girl'.
Apparently not this this time though because as soon as she was about to dive back into dinner, he spoke up. "Actually no, it can't wait," he asserted, leaning slight forward, his shoulders aimed at her. "I want to know who this man is and why he's here."
"You guys, can it at least wait under after dinner?" she whined, feeling the pressure of the day surrounding her again. It was bad enough that she'd have to talk to Henry about it but now she was being interrogated over it when all she really wanted was to pretend that it didn't happen. Was that so much to ask for? Short answer: yes, yes it was.
"Emma," both her parents chastised at the same time. She responded by sitting up straight, feeling the burn rising in her cheeks.
Mary Margaret leaned into her, her eyes soft like they could melt into liquid at any moment. "I know you want to pretend like it didn't happen-"
"What are you, a mind-reader?" she half-laughed, pushing hair behind her ear, her heart wrenching all over again. It's funny how you don't realize how hurt you are until afterwards. To be perfectly honest, Emma hadn't experienced that level of emotion in about eleven years and now it returned like billowing waves in a storm. That kind of influx wreaked havoc on one's mental state.
"Well you are my daughter; I know you better than you think," she explained whimsically. Emma cocked her head from side to side in agreement. "So I know how you feel. Mary Margaret always felt that way, always pretended she was okay when really she – I – was so lonely, so disconnected. Pretending something didn't happen, pretending to be okay, was like breathing to me. But ignoring it isn't going to make it go away or make it better; it's just going to make you feel worse."
The blonde rested her elbows on the table and dropped her face into her hands, rubbing at her eyes as if trying to waken them. "You should write a book," she mumbled into her hands, "'Snow White's Words of Wisdom'."
Both David and Mary Margaret let out gentle laughs, their sounds mingling together, creating music.
"I like the sound of that," the woman quipped.
She was right – and Emma knew it. When had ignoring her problems ever really helped her? It didn't help her when she was a teenager and it definitely didn't help her now.
"And," the brunette continued cagily, "it would probably be better for you emotionally to keep open about the subject. We wouldn't want it to trigger your magic."
And there was the dollop of guilt she had been waiting on. It was like a game they played - they used any excuse they could find to steer the conversation back to her magic and what they were going to do about it.
Huh, Emma guessed she'd been avoiding that, too.
It made more sense just to tell David everything. "Okay," she sighed. "You're right; you're always right." She gazed at her dinner forlornly, wishing she had the chance to finish it.
Her father's expression was expectant and open, ready for her to start.
"Okay then, here we go. Good luck keeping up," she began, feeling the twinge in her heart expand and contract rapidly.
Ugh, stupid Neal.
"So long story short: Neal knocked me up, left me to go to prison because Pinocchio told him to, and disappeared for eleven years. Oh and he just so happens to be Rumpelstiltskin's son, too." Trying for humour rather than frankness was the route she decided to take with the story - because that's what it was, that's what it sounded like: a story. Something from a book.
David's eyes focused on her, his brow furrowed in thought as if he was trying to solve a mathematical equation. Maybe she should have given him a drink too…
Mary Margaret bit her bottom lip nervously, awaiting his response. All Emma wanted was for them to stop looking at her with those concerned eyes so they could move past the initial shock of the revelation and skip to the part afterwards where they all laughed about it like it was some funny joke. In a twisted way, it was kind of funny, right?
Okay now she was verging on delusional.
"Emma I – I had no idea," her father eventually uttered. "I'm…I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she shrugged off a little too nonchalantly. "Ancient history."
Her mother smiled in amusement but said nothing. Instead, she started clearing the table, beginning with their now cold, half-eaten dinners, but cupped the blonde's head in an affectionate manner as she passed.
Emma smiled to herself.
In the corner of her eye she saw David flex his hand, a determined look etched into his features. "You shouldn't have had to go through that," he hissed. "You were supposed to be safe, you were supposed to be protected. You are the saviour – you are my daughter; how dare anyone treat you like that!" He brought his fist down onto the table with a mighty thud, his knife jumping into the air in the tremor. Emma flinched back into her chair.
"David," Mary Margaret warned, taking their glasses from the table, "calm down."
"No, Snow, that guy disrespected our daughter and left her to rot in a jail cell while she was pregnant with his child!"
"To be fair he didn't know about Henry," Emma meekly tried to appease. She didn't know why she suddenly had the urge to defend Neal, Lord knows she'd envisioned him getting exactly what he deserved time and time again, but David's expression was so stern that his jaw looked to be moaning under the pressure.
He ran a hand through his short hair in exasperation. "That's not the point, Em. The point is that he betrayed you and left you alone to harbour the burden of his wrongdoing. Any man with a sense of honour and pride would never let the woman he loved suffer on account of him. This guy lied to you repeatedly about his true identity and took off without a single word; what kind of man does that?"
Against her better judgement, Emma slinked down in her chair, her arms crossed over as if to create a barrier to protect herself. "Yeah, well maybe he didn't love me. Maybe he never did." That thought crossed her mind a little too much and though it annoyed her, every single time it did, her heart did a little lurch just to let her know how much Neal did hurt her and how much mending she still had to do. She wondered if her broken heart would ever truly be fixed.
"Oh, honey I don't believe that for a second," the brunette piped up, stopping her clean-up and jumping onto the seat next to her.
"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"
"Everything you've told me about your relationship. I'll admit that it wasn't the most conventional and not exactly one I approve of, but from what I gather, you and Neal were like kindred spirits. You needed each other."
Needed each other. She led herself to believe that, too. In fact, she believed it so much that when she started off alone, she felt she couldn't do it; that starting off from scratch again was impossible. In an unhealthy kind of way, Neal was like her crutch and without him, she struggled. Two years living in Tallahassee silently praying that he was still waiting for her, still wanting her, was proof enough of that.
If anything, she resented him more for it.
"What makes you say that, Snow?" David leaned forward, interested.
She looked back at him like she would a schoolboy - sometimes it was hard to take the Mary Margaret out of the Snow White. "Neal left the Enchanted Forest to get away from that world; he was alone here. He's no more part of this world than we are. Emma…" she let out a rough breath, "…Emma was alone here, too. Both were looking for someone to be with. And they found what they were looking for in each other."
The blonde rose to her feet, indignant. "So what? He still left me!"
"Yes and I'm not condoning what he did. Not at all. In fact I hope David hits him if we ever come across him again." She flashed her husband a smirk. "But maybe Neal did what he did because he thought it was the right thing to do. We've all made rash decisions in the past and we've all made mistakes. From what you've told me, he left because he felt like he had no choice. He's been running his whole life, Emma, and you were the first person to make him re-evaluate that."
Emma paced back and forth, not really agreeing with her mother's hypothesis but not really disagreeing either. She could feel the concoction of emotions bubbling inside of her and began to take deep, calming breaths to regain composure. Her parents certainly had a funny way of keeping her relaxed. "Well it doesn't matter anymore. Neal's gone. Henry's here. He's all that matters now; not me, not Neal, not anybody else. Now that I have the truth – or at least some more information – I can shut the door on that part of my life and just leave it all behind like I've wanted to do for the past decade."
Her father got out of his chair and pushed it into the table, reading the end of the conversation. "Okay," he stated simply, walking over to her and laying hands on her shoulders, "whatever you want, Emmy. But on the off-chance that he pops up into our lives again, do I have permission to sock him in the jaw?"
"I'd be horribly disappointed if you didn't," she trolled.
Mary Margaret resumed her clean-up, smiling at the blonde fondly and proudly.
David leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the woman, holding onto her tightly. She breathed in his scent. He smelled what she always thought fathers should smell like – fresh and safe. It was like cinnamon and vanilla, reminding her of their home. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "We should have been there to protect you and I'm sorry for that. I'll always be sorry for that."
She clumped a fistful of his shirt, the words resonating in her, knowing them to be true. Her parents would have been the best growing up; they would have grounded her when she snuck out late at night, they would have yelled at her when she was being cheeky, they would have made her do chores and kept her in line. They would have been everything she needed and more. They would have cared. But most of all, they would have loved her more than she could have ever imagined because she was theirs. And that realization always knocked the air out of her lungs and in doing so, she clung to him tighter, not ready to let the moment pass just yet. But knowing now that she could cherish the way they looked at her and experience them as parents was always going to be enough for her.
"You don't have to apologise," she whispered. "You're both here now. That's enough. Just don't call me Emmy again," she tagged on, pulling away with a smile.
"I told you, I don't think I can do that," he teased.
"Emmy?" her mother chimed in with added interest. "Oh I like that."
"Not you too," Emma moaned, dropping her shoulders. "Come on, it makes me sound like a kid!"
The brunette touched her arm and beamed lovingly. "Well if you're going to complain like a kid then we just have to call you it."
She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. "But I don't like it."
"It's Emmy or Princess – take your pick."
Emma rolled her eyes. They'd wanted to call her 'Princess' for months.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang, catching their attention.
"Saved by the bell," Emma said sardonically.
"I'll get it," her dad offered but pointed at her, "but don't think you're getting away that easily."
He wandered out of the room and the next thing Emma heard was the door opening and the sound of a fist connecting with a jaw.
Hook dragged them up above deck one by one, casting them to the side so their backs were against the ship.
"What do you want from us?!" one roared, angered, struggling against her restraints.
"Why are we here?" the other posed tearfully.
He smirked and raised his hook into the sun so that the sun could reflect off it, creating a warm shine. "Oh trust me ladies, Cora very much has a plan for the both of you. As you can see," he gestured behind them and, humouring him, they twisted around to have a look, "we have made it to Storybrooke. I believe you are familiar with Storybrooke?"
They nodded suspiciously, exchanging dubious looks.
"After all it is where your good friends Emma and Snow are from, isn't it? Looks rather dull as if you ask me but I'm sure I'll grow to love it, as I do most things." His smile was arrogant.
"We've never been to this land! We cannot offer you any information."
Hook ran a hand along his beard and crouched down before them. "Oh Mulan, don't you think I know that? Your purpose is far more important than that."
"Whatever our purpose is you can be sure that we will not carry it out," Aurora asserted, holding herself together. "We will never help you or Cora."
He straightened up, his body towering over them ominously. "So you say but, you see, Cora can be oh so persuasive. Disobey her and who knows the consequence? Death would surely be too boring for her and far too simple a solution. You must never underestimate her; whatever she has planned I can assure you it will not be pleasant."
"Why are you even helping her? What do you get out of this?"
"Curious Aurora. At least now you're starting to show an interest." She cocked an eyebrow to which he did the same. "I'm not helping Cora; her quest differs from mine. I needed to get to Storybrooke and so did she, so we made an alliance. Once I get off this boat, our ties are severed and I'm free to fulfil my goal."
Mulan narrowed her eyes, her chin high. "Then why engage with us all?"
Hook pondered that for a moment. "Because I believe in being straight with people. I'm merely warning you for what lies ahead. Perhaps it would be more suited for you to do what she asks rather than defy her. It might just spare your lives…and the lives of others."
The clacking of heels alerted them to Cora's oncoming and any shred of humanity Hook had shown dissolved in an instant. She sashayed toward them, her lips curled into a smile, her dress moving with her motion. "Are we all ready to explore this new land?"
Mulan and Aurora remained still, waiting to see what would happen next.
Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have time please let me know what you thought! :)