Emma sighed and slid the book over to her. "This is all going to sound crazy, but I may have been through this all before. I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore." Emma pushed the hair back from her face. "I feel like I don't know who I am anymore." She blew out a puff of air and let a long pause go by before she spoke again.. "I need you to do something for me. If it works, I'll tell you more. But" –she pressed a hand flat on the book and leaned in closer to Mary Margaret, so close that Mary Margaret could smell the cinnamon on Emma's breath – "first, I need you to read this to John Doe. Supposedly, you're Snow White, and he's Prince Charming. If that's true, he's going to grab your hand while you're reading, but he'll be completely motionless when you try and tell the doctors." Emma paused to lick her lips. "He's going to wake up and wander off eventually, to the toll bridge. He's looking for you, because, according to the book," she tapped the hard cover, "the troll bridge is where your story really begins. You need to be there before he is, or we're going to have serious problems."
Emma drew in a deep breath. Never in her life had she said so many words all at once, and she was worried what Mary Margaret would say. Even if Mary Margaret wasn't her mother (this whole situation was making her less and less sure of herself), she was the closest thing Emma had to a mother figure in her life, and she didn't want to lose her.
Mary Margaret looked skeptical but compliant. "I'll do it," she said.
Emma bit her lip and nervously curled and uncurled her fingers, hoping her plan would work. It was all she had.
"Here you go," Granny said to Emma, smiling as she slid a lidded to-go cup of coffee across the counter at the blonde. Emma stopped the cup with an opened palm and wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the warmth seep pleasantly into her hand. She smiled lightly, stood up, and tucked her chair in under the bar. "Thanks, Granny. See you tomorrow."
Granny winked at her, obviously getting to "know" the blonde by then. "Always, Emma."
Emma pushed the door to the diner open, out into the darkening night, and turned a sharp right around the corner. Something firm and warm collided with her as she rounded the corner, and Emma took a few steps back to find out what she'd run into.
Emma gasped audibly. "Graham!"
She rushed into his arms and pressed herself tightly to his chest. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she was sure Graham could feel it, too. He smelled so incredibly familiar, of forest from traversing the woods when there was no trouble in Storybrooke, and of worn leather from wearing his uniform day-in-day-out.
Emma dropped her coffee cup to the ground, steaming liquid spilling onto the uneven pavement and creeping slowly toward the curb. She stepped back and placed her hands against his cheeks, stroking the rough stubble growing there. Her eyebrows raised and moved inwards as she saw the familiar smooth skin and ocean blue eyes in front of her. She smiled widely and brightly at him, incredibly grateful for having something other than misery and disappointment in this still-cursed Storybrooke, her excitement barely contained within the parameters of acceptable conduct. "You're alive! You're alive!" she said loudly, jumping up and down, her fingers crossing the lengths of Graham's body to ensure that every part of him was real and solid and not leaving her. She shook her head in happy disbelief; her mouth opened even wider in a shocked smile. "You're really here-" Emma took a step back from Graham, her hands crossed over her heart, a look of smooth bliss written on her face. "You're alive," she whispered at the ground.
Graham cleared his throat, snapping Emma out of her trance. She looked up into the man's eyes; the happiness evaporated from her expression.
Graham's expression toward her was neutral. Blank, even. He made no moves closer to her, and his hands were tucked deep into his coat pockets. His posture was rigid and formal, and Emma suddenly remembered where she actually was.
"Who are you?" Graham said, his eyes scanning her for something he recognized. "Do I know you?"
Emma felt her mouth moving, fumbling for sensible, coherent words as she caught the blank, clouded expression in Graham's eyes that was shared amongst all pre-broken-curse Storybrooke residents. He didn't know her. At all. In his mind, he'd never met her.
Emma spun on her heels, needing to be somewhere other than here. Of course, Graham was alive. Of course, he didn't remember her. The only proof Emma had of the past four years of her life was what was in her head.
"Wait!" Graham called after her. "Wait!"
Emma shut her eyes as she ran, erasing everything that was wrong with this town in her mind and replacing it with everything familiar: Robin waving kindly at her from across the street, walking hand-in-hand with Regina; Regina smiling at the ground and looking like, for once, something was going right in her life; David and Mary Margaret visible through the front window of Granny's, cooing at baby Neal; Belle dusting Rumple's shop. Emma navigated the town with the memories in her feet, rather than her eyesight. Behind her eyelids, everything was right. Behind her eyelids, there was only Killian. Behind her eyelids, Henry was a teenager again. Behind her eyelids, she had sacrificed herself to the darkness for Regina but still was loved and wanted nonetheless. From behind her eyelids came everything that was missing here.
Underneath her feet, the ground became soft and mushy; Emma's boots sank and stuck in the ground. She opened her eyes to see where she'd come, and the toll bridge was lurking in front of her. She moved stealthily closer, praying under her breath that Mary Margaret had awoken David and that David was currently convincing her that they didn't belong here; they belonged in a world full of hope and magic and tiny, winged flying people.
Emma skidded to a stop when she saw what was actually happening in the stream. She involuntarily drew in a deep breath and plundered rapidly down the hill into the water. The cold liquid sopped into her boots and froze her toes. She thrust her hand down into the water, grabbed the arm she saw, and turned the body over.
"Oh!" Her hands flew to her face as she jumped back in surprise. David was there, laying in the cold, rushing water, his thin gown thoroughly soaked. Emma swept her gaze around the forest. No Mary Margaret. Had she played the David card too soon? Should she have given Mary Margaret more time to accept her theories?
Emma clutched her hands underneath David's armpits and dragged him out of the frigid water, his feet leaving dual trails in the mud. Emma leant down and dialed 9-1-1, the only trustworthy number she had at this point, after checking to make sure her father was still alive and breathing. As soon as the ambulance arrived, Emma moved away from the scene and made her way to Regina's. She had decided she needed a strong ally.
It was almost ten-thirty when Emma finally reached the Mills' mansion; the town may be small, but walking was a nonetheless a sluggish choice of transport.
Emma loudly rapped on the door three times using the brass knocker, not caring whether or not Regina and Henry were asleep. She listened closely through the door, and she could just make out the sound of angry footsteps coming down the stairs and toward the door. After a minute or so, the door flung open with surprising vigor.
Regina stood in front of her, rubbing her eyes, frustrated, dressed in dark silk pajamas. She crossed her arms and leaned on the heavy door. "What, Miss Swan."
Emma pushed past her, ignoring the fact that Regina's tone had been less than inviting. "We need to talk. Now."
Regina turned around. "Miss Swan, you can't just intrude and burst into other people's houses uninvited-"
Emma quickly spun and, with a few steps, was right in Regina's face. "I know everything," Emma said, her teeth gritted and her voice low and purposeful. She stepped forward, intruding even more on Regina's space. Regina took a half step backwards, intimidated. "Don't you play your games with me, because I know who you are, and no matter what you say, you can't fool me twice."
Regina appeared taken aback. "W-w," she stuttered as she fumbled for words. She frowned confusedly at Emma. "How about a glass of apple cider?" she tried.
Emma threw her a sideways glance. "No, thanks." She remembered that this woman was still the Evil Queen and a master of producing killer apple products. And not in the good way.
Regina blinked. "O-okay. Do you want to sit down, then? We can go upstairs into my office."
Emma accepted the invitation and followed Regina upstairs, settled herself on the black couch, and debated how to tell Regina what she knew.
Regina sighed. "What do you want to tell me, Miss Swan?"