II
Chapter sixteen: What we had growing up is never lost / and never kept
Emma
II
Emma is growing up.
She just isn't sure what she's growing up to be.
She has plenty of role models, that's not the problem. There is Belle, auntie Belle with her books and her love of knowledge and sharp mind. There is Regina, auntie Regina with her control and cool, steel gaze that can make anyone flinch. There is Mr Gold, not quite uncle, who isn't quite what he seems but is very good at seeming like he knows more than he is saying. There is Ruby, auntie Ruby, who manages to not care what people think but to still care about people. There is Owen, cool almost big brother Owen, who wants to find a bigger world than this.
And there is mom and dad. Mom and dad who teach her how to sword fight and shoot a bow in the afternoon, and hug her relentlessly in the evening while reading to her, playing with her, loving her. Emma loves mom and dad more than anything else, but there is a growing part of her that wants to be... Wants to be something more than David and Mary Margaret's daughter.
That's what everyone sees her as, after all. Mom and dad are the leaders of their little community, she has long since realized, and here she'll always be the daughter.
She wants to be more. She just doesn't know what.
II
For her eleventh birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a necklace and a pony.
The necklace is silver, with a small pendant with unfamiliar flowers on it. Mommy tells her one is a snow drop, the flower that first grows after a hard winter, a true survivor, and promises to make her a crown of snow drops in spring. The other flower daddy says nothing about, but Emma still likes it.
The pony is white with grey spots, neighing softly at Emma as daddy leads it to her. She's seen mommy and daddy ride horses a few times, even been up on one with daddy once, and she's often dreamed about having her own and riding through the forest whenever she wanted.
"Is it really for me?" Emma asks, and mommy smiles at her with teary eyes.
"Yes, Emma," mommy confirms. "She's really for you. She has to help out in the fields too, but she will be your pony and we'll teach you how to ride. You can name her."
Emma stares in awe, then lifts her head to touch the pony's neck. The fur is soft under her palm, so very soft and so very white.
"Snow White," she says and daddy splutters. "What?"
"You want to name your pony Snow White?" daddy says. He sounds odd, and mommy is looking very odd.
"It's my favorite fairy tale," Emma says defensively.
"Mine too," mommy hurries to say, smiling. "It's just... To have a pony called Snow might be a bit..."
"Odd," daddy says, sounding very odd about it. "Since we read the fairy tale so often, I mean."
"Because you call mommy 'Snow' sometimes when you think I'm asleep?" Emma asks, and daddy's eyes widen. "You do it before you get all gross with kissing."
"Right," daddy says slowly, exchanging glances with mommy. "You're right, I like to call mommy Snow sometimes. She is as fair as Snow White, don't you think?"
Emma nods furiously. "Mommy is the fairest of them all."
"Right," daddy says again, but this time he looks at mommy with beaming eyes. "She is."
"Charming, David," mommy says pointedly, but she is smiling too.
Gross kissing usually follows, so Emma focuses on her pony again, stroking the fur and marvelling at the fact that this is hers. She has a pony. Emma's pony. Just Emma's.
"Frosty," she decides, and mommy and daddy break their kiss to look at her. "I'm going to call her Frosty."
"That's a nice name," daddy says, and mommy smacks his arm for some reason. "Would you like to go for a ride on Frosty?"
"Can I?" Emma asks, suddenly breathless at the thought.
"Sure," daddy says. "I'll lead her by the reins and this will officially be your first riding lesson."
Emma throws herself at mommy and daddy both, and they both kneel down to embrace her. Daddy puts his hand at the back of her neck and sighs, while mommy sniffles slightly.
"I love you," Emma murmurs, feeling daddy kiss her temple.
"We love you too, Emma," mommy whispers, and Emma feels that too.
II
For her twelfth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a her first bow and quiver, and her first kiss.
The bow has clearly been made for her, sized just right to fit her. She can pull it back with her own strength, not needing mommy or daddy's help at all. As she draws her hand over the wood, she can feel how it's been carved and formed to fit her.
The quiver has clearly been made for her too, fitting her perfectly as she straps it on. Mommy and daddy have made this for her together, she is certain, and they've even set up targets for her in the forest to practice.
They've brought their own bows, and she watches in awe as they shoot and tease each other. Eventually they end up having a shoot-off, the loser having to kiss the winner. Emma suspects daddy is a bit too happy to lose, and leaves mommy to claim her prizes after reassuring them she won't walk too far.
They trust her to find her way in the forest now, which makes her happy, and she's smiling as she finds her way to that spot, where she meets Neal every third month. He feels like a secret, her secret friend.
Neal is waiting, as usual not seeing her until she's quite close (and have felt that odd sensation she always does when she reaches this part of the forest). He stares at her as she slips out between the trees, and she feels a slight blush in her cheeks.
"Wow," he says. "You look..."
She lifts her chin and her bow both, wondering if she's allowed to shoot boys if they say stupid things. Daddy would probably say yes.
"Amazing," he finishes, and she lowers her bow. Okay. Maybe that wasn't stupid. "I can't stay long. Or stay at all, really. August wants us to go to Boston."
"Boston?" she echoes.
"Yeah," Neal says. "He's trying to find someone. He thinks maybe the hospital took her in."
Emma thinks about the end of the world, that catastrophe she's only heard about and that feels so distant, despite it happening just after she was born. "Is there anything left of Boston?"
"There wasn't much left of New York," Neal says bleakly. "I don't know. But we have to try."
"Oh," she says. "Will I see you again?"
"If you're ever in Boston..." he jokes weakly, then sighs. "I don't know, Emma. But I got you a birthday present."
He holds out his hand, and in it is a small pendant with a swan. A keychain.
"For Emma Swan," he says, trying a smile, and impulsively she leans forward and presses her lips to his.
There is no fireworks, no flash of magic. But there is a slight fluttering in her stomach, and it's okay. It's nice.
Then it's over, Neal pulling away hurriedly and leaving her standing with a swan keychain in her hand and slight heartbreak.
II
For her thirteenth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a dress and a dagger.
It's a real dagger, sharp and pointy and gleaming as she holds it in her hand. This is a real weapon, she realizes, with a scabbard and a belt to go with it too. This is a weapon for her. Mommy and daddy trust her with a weapon. They have been giving her lessons with archery and sword fighting, but this is different. This is a real weapon.
"You have to be careful with it," mommy says, and Emma nods. She knows. Mommy and daddy have talked about that a lot, about how weapons can defend but also do harm, and it's all down to who wields it.
Emma is going to wield her dagger well, she decides. To keep mommy and daddy safe, and maybe she can use it to save a prince someday.
Dresses can also be weapons, auntie Ruby has told her, and Emma eyes her new dress critically. It is beautiful, purple and laced, but what gets her really excited is when she realizes it actually comes with leggings and boots too.
"So you can ride in it too," daddy tells her with a wink.
"And dance," mommy counters, and Emma remembers all the times she's seen mommy and daddy dancing in the living room while daddy hums the tune.
"And knock out bandits," daddy replies.
"Or be a bandit," mommy says, and they both laugh.
"I can be a princess and a bandit at the same time?" Emma asks eagerly. She can't help it. She likes riding and her pony and her new dagger and the thought of being that sort of Emma, but she also feels a secret thrill at the idea of dancing. If she can do both...
"Yes," mommy says decisively, and daddy kisses her cheek and smile at Emma. "You can be whatever you want to be, Emma."
Emma likes the thought of that. So they go riding in her new dress, mommy and daddy on a horse and Emma on Frosty, a birthday picnic in the forest. Mommy makes her a crown of flowers, and daddy dances with her in a meadow, and Emma keeps her dagger in her boot all the while.
II
For her fourteenth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets books, a new bed, hairbands, a new saddle and a very awkward talk.
"So that's how... Er... The bee pollinates the flower very lovingly and..." daddy fumbles, while mommy looks torn between despair and laughing out loud. They're all sitting on Emma's new bed, which is as big as an adult's and making her feel all grown up. The only one that seems to grow at all, it feels like some days. So is this talk. "Oh, to hell with it. Emma, grown-ups sometimes have sex."
"Sex?" Emma echoes. "You mean doing it like the male sheep and the female sheep?"
"Sort of," daddy says. "Obviously not always in the same position, though sometimes that position... Um. I mean yes, sort of like the male sheep and the female sheep."
Emma makes a slight face. "That doesn't look very..."
Daddy looks like he would rather be facing a dragon than having this conversation, and Emma bites her lip to keep from laughing.
"It can be very..." he says, then falters. "A little help, mommy?"
Mommy laughs softly. "You were doing so charmingly, David. Emma, sex is... Sex is something intimate two people share. Sex can be great, if you're feeling it. Just like kissing."
Emma thinks about kissing, and about the strange thought she's had lately that maybe, maybe it would be nice to kiss someone like mommy kisses daddy. Kissing used to seem all gross, but maybe it's like tomatoes, which she used to think were gross until she tried one and discovered she actually liked them.
She liked the kiss with Neal. Sort of. She thinks of him sometimes, wondering where he is, wondering if she is meant to find him like mommy and daddy found each other, or if he was just a passing thing.
"Okay," she says dubiously. "But how exactly..."
Daddy groans and buries his head in his hands for a moment. She almost takes pity on him. Almost.
Mommy watches her, then narrows her eyes. "Emma, you already know what sex is, don't you?"
"What?" daddy says, looking up sharply. "Emma...?"
Busted, Emma thinks, and sighs. Oh well. It was fun for as long as it lasted.
"Ruby and Belle already told me weeks ago," she confirms and dad groans. "Belle had a book and Ruby had very detailed explanations."
Daddy groans again, then pulls her into a hug. For a moment she thinks he's going to lift her up like he used to, but too late she realizes that he's instead tickling her.
"Pay-back," he says as she squirms and laughs. He's merciless in his tickling, and she's soon gasping for breath.
"Mommy, help!" she calls out. "Mommy, please!"
Mommy makes an exaggerated sigh, then pounces on daddy to tickle him. Soon they're in a laughing heap of limbs, daddy tickling mommy and Emma, mommy tickling daddy and Emma tickling them both. Eventually, daddy raises his hands and laughingly suggests a truce.
They sit up, and Emma leans into daddy just like mommy does, while he softly caresses both their back with one hand each.
"I'm glad you aren't too old for tickling matches yet," daddy whispers softly, and mommy smiles as if she agrees.
"Is this the last awkward talk before I'm officially grown up?" she asks, and daddy kisses her temple.
"When you're 18, there is one more talk we have to have," daddy says seriously, and mommy lowers her head. "But until then – take your time growing up, Emma. It isn't coming back."
II
For her fifteenth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a tiara and a sword.
It isn't dad's sword, but it is similar in style. A broadsword, a weapon, and holding it makes her feel strangely powerful. Dad has trained her enough with swords that she knows how to wield one now, and she carefully tries a few swings.
Her sword. Dad has made it for her, she knows, fitting for the style of fighting he's taught her.
Dad watches her with an expression torn between pride and... Loss? He seems almost sad for a moment, then smiles at her as she sheaths the sword expertly.
The tiara feels like power too, but in a different way. Mom treats it so reverently when placing it on Emma's head, and Emma feels... Strange.
"It was my mom's," mom says, and Emma looks at her in surprise "R... Mr. Gold helped us find it. I thought it was time you had it."
"Was your mom a princess?" Emma asks curiously. She knows dad woke up after a coma and had amnesia, but mom has never brought up her family. Maybe they all died when the world ended, like so many others did.
"I'll tell you about her soon," mom promises, avoiding the question entirely. "She would have been proud to have you as her granddaughter, Emma. Very proud."
"Not as proud as I am to be your father," dad says, and Emma blushes. "Happy birthday, Emma."
"Thanks, dad," she says, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror; a young woman with a tiara and a sheathed sword, surrounded by her smiling parents.
Emma Swan. Is this really her?
"You're growing up so fast," mom says, almost sadly, and Emma wonders why she feels like she's not growing up fast enough.
II
For her sixteenth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a new room in their house.
The room she's helped build, though dad has done most of the heavy work. It's much larger, with worn furniture that mom has helped fix up. It still feels sort of small as Emma regards it, but she hides that emotion behind a smile.
Mom and dad both beam at her. They're still just as she remembers them from her first memories, still as young. Everyone is, apart from her and Owen. It's become normal to her now, even if she sometimes wonders about it.
"What's the matter, honey?" mom asks, and Emma notices dad looking at her curiously too. "Don't you like your room?"
"I love it," Emma says earnestly. It is lovely, with shelves for her books and boxes for the toys she has outgrown and racks for her bow and sword. "I just... Is this always going to be my world, mom? This small community?"
Mom and dad exchange glances.
"No, honey," mom says quietly. "There is another world for you."
"Right," Emma says, as mom sits down next to her and puts an arm around her. Dad kneels down, taking her hands and looking earnestly at her.
"Emma, we would give you the world if you could," he says.
"I know," she says. She does, after all. They've loved her for as long as she can remember, giving her everything they could. And she has been happy. Is happy. It's just... "I don't know what I want."
"Oh, Emma," dad says lovingly. "You have so many years to figure that out."
"When did you know what you wanted?" Emma asks curiously.
"When I found you and mommy," dad says, and mom puts her hand on his. "Emma... Your mother and I believe in happy endings, but they don't always happen the way we expect."
"Is that why you used to read me so many fairy tales?" she jokes, but mom and dad don't laugh at that. "Okay, I get it, I shouldn't expect to know it all when sixteen."
Mom smiles softly at her. "Something like that."
"So I will know it all at eighteen then?" Emma jokes, and both mom and dad laugh this time.
"So impatient," dad says fondly. "Now who do you remind me of..."
Mom gives him a pointed yet fond look before they both laugh, and Emma smiles at her very silly, occasionally gross but very beloved parents and knows her happy ending has to involve them somehow.
But there is more to it, she is now certain, and she wants to figure out what else she wants.
II
For her seventeenth birthday, Emma Blanchard Nolan Swan gets a red leather jacket and a whole new world.
The leather jacket is from mom and dad, a red one they've managed to find on a scavenging run and tailored to fit her. She likes it, wearing it even to bed after the party and keeping it on as she straps on her sword, puts the dagger in her boot, grabs her backpack and leaves the note on the nightstand.
She's spent several days trying to write that note. How to explain to her loving parents that she needs something more than this, when they've given her all they can? How to explain to them that they might be used to a farming life, but that she can't know if this is what she wants until she's seen if there are alternatives? How to explain that she feels like she's meant to do something more than this, like Jefferson used to whisper to her? How to explain that she wants to do something on her own when they've been her protective parents for so long?
She never did find that how, so the note is simple.
I'm going to Boston with Owen. I'm sorry for sneaking out, but I know you wouldn't let me go alone. We'll be back as soon as we can.
I love you.
Emma.
Owen is waiting for her by the yellow bug as he said he would, giving a slow whistle as he notices her.
"Cut it out," she says. She's grown up with Owen, but she still isn't quite sure she knows him. He's always been Regina's boy, at least until now. He's no longer a boy and she's no longer a girl.
"You sure about this, Swan?" he says.
"Yes," she says. "I want to go with you to Boston."
"Sneaking out without mommy and daddy knowing," he says, and it almost sounds like admiration in his voice. "Didn't know you had it in you."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," she shoots back. "I left a note. They trust me. They know I can handle myself until we get back."
He gives her sword a pointed look. "Swan, we're heading to a ruined city to look for medicines. This isn't an adventure. This is dangerous."
"It wouldn't be an adventure if it wasn't dangerous," she counters, and he almost smiles.
"Like parents, like daughter, apparently," he says.
"So why are you going?" she asks.
"I told you. We need medicines and not everyone can actually leave this town. I can."
She shakes her head. "That isn't the whole story. I know when someone is lying to me."
"Oh, like a super power?" he mocks and she tries to give him one of those looks that Regina is so good at. "Okay, maybe there is more to this story, but I'm not telling you yet. You in or not?"
Emma glances back at her house in the darkness. It's been her whole world for as long as she can remember, but she isn't a kid anymore. Briefly, she thinks of mom and dad sleeping curled up like she last saw them, and tries to push away the creeping sense of guilt. They will worry. They trust her, but they will worry.
But she has to do this. She isn't even sure why, she just wants... More. Maybe it's all those fairy tales she read andgrew up with, giving her a sense of adventures and wanting to do something.
"I'm in," she says, swallowing.
"All right then. Let's go for a ride," Owen says, and Emma smiles.
II
For her eighteenth birthday, Emma Swan will get heartbreak, but she doesn't know that yet.