I would first like to thank all of you who have been with this story since its beginning. I can't believe it has already been a year. Anyway, you guys are awesome :) Welcome to all new story followers and thank you for all the favorites! I hope that you enjoy this chapter. It seemed appropriate for Mother's Day.
Somehow, waiting for her mother's arrival turned into the longest ten minutes, so far, in the blonde woman's life. As soon as she sees the familiar car drive up, the young woman feels a wave of dread rip through her. Despite the fact, a few minutes ago, she was certain that she was prepared to tell her mother the truth of the situation, when Mary Margaret is only several feet in front of her, Emma is suddenly paralyzed.
"Emma!" the brunette woman shouts, running toward her huddled daughter on the steps of the Mills family mausoleum. She would have to ask about this chosen location later, Mary Margaret notes.
Rising to meet the concerned woman, Emma weakly responds, "Mom." It's all that she can manage before breaking down entirely. Thankfully, her supportive mother captures her in a strong embrace.
As both women continue to hold each other as if their lives depend on the close proximity for survival, Mary Margaret voices the frightful thought consuming her awareness. "I was so worried."
The blonde woman grips her mother tighter and expresses her sincere regret. She had not considered how her actions would affect the woman in front of her. In her lifetime, no one had ever cared for her that much. "I'm sorry," she tremulously laments.
"It's alright. I'm here now. I'm right here, Emma." Mary Margaret continues to sooth with her voice as she gently rocks her precious child.
The young woman recognizes that accepting the tenderness shown by her mother has become more natural. In the beginning, when her parents first remembered her, she was uncomfortable with displays of affection and she was also suspicious. She had been burned too many times before by people who were supposed to care for her and protect her.
After another minute or two, registering that her daughter has finally calmed, Mary Margaret believes that now it might be safe to inquire about specifics. "How long have you been out here?"
Emma answers honestly. "I don't know."
It is obvious that the emotional young woman is still very upset and not yet ready to let go of her mother.
In an effort to quite her fragile daughter, the self-assured mother does what she knows will always work. She holds the blonde woman close and soothes with her voice, "It's okay, honey. It's going to be okay."
The blonde woman knows that she needs to tell her mother the truth, however now may not be the time. She can't even speak without crying. For now, she lets herself be comforted by her mother's presence. How she wished for this feeling of warmth and protection, safe in this woman's arms, since she was a small child. All the pain has disappeared, the world is no longer a scary place, and she relaxes in the knowledge that her mother loves her and is taking care of her. "Mom, I'm sorry," she cries. Just when she thought her mother couldn't be any more wonderful, Mary Margaret surprises her.
"No. I'm sorry for leaving you alone."
"It's okay." Emma only hopes that sounds convincing. But, Mary Margaret has already fallen into the trap of guilt.
"I should've realized…"
The last thing that Emma wants is for her mother, the woman who has been so loving toward her and accepting, to feel guilty for something that is not her responsibility. "No. I needed to be alone, to figure some stuff out."
"Do you feel better now?" But the question is met by awkward silence. Mary Margaret notices her daughter struggling to muster the courage to confess something that she had concealed until now.
Finally, Emma takes the pivotal first step. "I need to tell you something."
Understanding the weight of that statement, Mary Margaret carefully prompts, "What do you need to tell me?" She strives to sound both sympathetic and non-threatening.
"You should probably sit down." The suggested seated position is not only for her mother's benefit, since the young woman believes that once Mary Margaret hears the confessions she might faint, it is also for her benefit. This way, if she is standing and moving around, she has control over the situation, at least in her mind, even though Snow White does not pose any threat. The thief turned bounty hunter, is accustom to having control in every situation.
"What's wrong?" A wide-eyed Mary Margaret asks, as she settles her weight on the cold concrete steps to the burial chamber.
"This is just a lot harder than I thought it would be," Emma admits, as she continues to fidget. She is still trying to work up the courage to have the most important conversation, she imagines, she will ever have with her mother.
"Emma, it's okay. You can tell me anything," the doe-eyed woman reminds. Her sincerity is unmistakable. In Mary Margaret's opinion, there is no way that her daughter could be afraid of her. However, if she only knew the harsh realities of Emma's past, she would truly understand the origin of her daughter's deeply rooted anxiety.
"I don't know how to tell you this." In the time that Emma has known her mother, Mary Margaret has never given the young woman a reason not to trust her. This particular conversation would intimidate anyone. How is she supposed to tell people, including Regina, her baby's, for lack of a better word, paternity?
Fortunately for Emma, her mother is very intuitive and decides to help instigate what is proving to be a very difficult confession. "Is it about the baby?"
The young woman's breathing grows increasingly shallower as fear regains its suffocating hold.
"Honey, it's okay," Mary Margaret encourages.
"Mom, my baby was conceived nine weeks ago," Emma begins.
"Yes. That's what Dr. Whale said." She is only too eager to hear the agonizing admission. Though, as many scenarios as Mary Margaret had considered, nothing could have prepared her for what Emma reveals next.
"I wasn't with Killian nine weeks ago, or ten weeks ago, or eleven weeks ago," she illustrates, hoping that she won't have to voice the next part.
Mary Margaret tries to understand, though it's obvious she is only growing more confused. "But, I thought you were—"
"We were dating," Emma interrupts. "But we weren't..." she tries to continue, but she can't talk to her mother so candidly about her sex-life. After her conversation with Gold, she never wants to even entertain the thought of having sex again. "There is no way this baby could be Killian's."
Without thinking, Mary Margaret asks, "Then, who's the father?" As soon as she says it, the truth hits her like a ton of bricks. She looks to her daughter whose eyes are tightly shut and her arms are folded across her chest, her hands are gripping either arm and her chin is tucked against her chest, bracing herself for whatever retribution she might receive. Then Mary Margaret notices her daughter's lower lip quivering. She quietly rises from her seated position and slowly approaches her beloved child. She reaches out a quiet hand and lightly touches her daughter's shoulder.
Emma flinches in automatic response and her eyes jolt open. Realizing that her mother has halted her advances, her eyes fill with tears.
Both mother and daughter are wearing matching expressions as Mary Margaret wraps Emma in a forgiving embrace. She is determined to be the strength that Emma needs, as the young woman falls apart. The determined mother holds her blubbering child and begins rocking her, silently communicating her love and acceptance.
"Mom…"the devastated young woman whines.
"It's Regina." She had to hear herself say it. And, when Emma falls apart again, now unable to support her own body weight, Mary Margaret understands the source of the young woman's fear. She guides Emma to sit on the steps of the crypt and calms her, quieting her daughter's sobs and wiping away her tears.
"I couldn't believe it at first. So, I stopped by Gold's shop after I left the hospital," the emotional young woman explains. Comforted by her mother's gentle touch and concerned eyes, she continues, "He told me how my baby was conceived and…" She pauses for a moment, unsure of how far she can go with this admission. But, then the thought of her baby girl overrides every bit of trepidation. "I'm having a girl." When her mother responds by covering her gaping mouth with her hand, Emma fears that she may have revealed too much. She quickly tries to repair the damage. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
Just the fact that her daughter feels the need to apologize for something so beautiful scares the life out of Mary Margaret. She embraces her daughter again. "You did nothing wrong. Understand?" When she feels the young woman nod her head, she continues. "And, nothing changes the fact that you are my baby. You will always be my baby, Emma."
Never, in her wildest dreams, could Emma Swan have imagined that her mother would be so wonderful.
Mary Margaret continues, "It's a shock, honey. It's going to be okay."
"She's Regina's," Emma reiterates.
"And she's yours," Mary Margaret confirms, meeting Emma's eyes so the young woman understands the importance of that statement. "She is going to be your little girl and my granddaughter." The brunette woman's smile is contagious and quickly spreads to the woman in front of her. After a moment of bliss, Mary Margaret breaks the comfortable silence. "You didn't tell Regina."
Avoiding her mother's eyes, Emma shamefully admits, "No."
In Snow White's mind, this is a very simple situation; easily remedied. "Emma, she'll be overjoyed."
It's a good thing that her confidence and composure has returned, she needs to explain the complicated situation to this unfortunately naïve, incredibly sweet, woman. "I know Regina will love my baby. That's not what I'm worried about." She inhales deeply, preparing to tell her mother the reason she has chosen to keep her baby a secret. "Mom, she's getting married."
Of course Mary Margaret has a solution. Everything is simple from her point-of-view. "If you told her about the baby she wouldn't get married."
Growing frustrated, Emma calmly explains, "That's why I can't tell her." When she notices her mother's confusion, she breaks things down so that Snow White can understand them. Unfortunately, every relationship is not a fairy tale. "If she left him, it wouldn't be for me. I don't want her to be with me out of obligation. I need her to want to be with me because of me." As she emphasizes that last part, the painful truth stings to her core.
Hope is relentless, as Mary Margaret attempts to heal the wound. "She loves you, Emma. I know she does. You made a baby together."
"Magic made this baby," she flatly states, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
But, Mary Margaret is adamant. "I don't believe that it was just magic. Not for a second."
The conviction in her mother's words inspires the young woman, once again, to open her heart to the possibility that maybe her mother is right. "You really believe in us?"
Mary Margaret smiles warmly. "I always have. I always will." To solidify her conviction, she discloses part of her recent conversation with the mother of her, she fondly reflects, grandchildren. "She was scared when I told her that you were missing."
To the young woman, this sounds too good to be true. Trying to suppress what she believes to be insane hope, Emma reasons, "That doesn't sound like Regina."
"Exactly!" Mary Margaret instantly retorts. "She doesn't worry about anyone except Henry and you," she explains, emphasizing that last word.
Admittedly, her mother's repartee catches the young woman off guard. She didn't expect her mother's optimism to affect her, not tonight. "She did sound worried when I talked to her."
Entirely pleased with herself, Mary Margaret goes for the win. Grasping her daughter's hands in a display of earnestness, Mary Margaret proclaims, "Regina is your match, Emma. You two belong together."
If she is being honest with herself, the blonde woman had pictured this conversation going much differently. Because her mother has been unbelievably wonderful and accepting, Emma is confident making herself even more vulnerable. "I wanted her to be Regina's. I wanted it so damn much." She has to stop herself from breaking down again before continuing. "And, now, I've never felt more lost and alone in my entire life."
The young mother instinctively softens, "You're not alone, Emma. You'll never be alone again." She waits for her daughter to meet her eyes before continuing. "I wasn't there the first time, but I'm here now and I am going to help you."
The young woman throws her arms around her mother in grateful response.
"I love you, Emma. And I already love this baby."
There's no point trying to hide it, Emma thinks. She is crying. Her mother's passionate outpouring had moved her deeply, plus the hormones are magnifying all of her feelings.
"Please, let me help you," Mary Margaret implores, still clutching her weeping baby.
After a few moments of silence, Emma whispers against her mother's shoulder. "I'm so scared."
Before Emma has a chance to continue, Mary Margaret gently urges her daughter to meet her eyes. Her concern is evident.
"Gold said she has magic. I just started learning about my own magic. How am I supposed to take care of her?"
"Emma, you are her mother. You are the only person other than Regina who could take care of your daughter."
"But I don't know what I'm doing." She begins to project her greatest fear. "Regina had to raise my son and Henry doesn't even have magic."
Mary Margaret remains obstinate in her belief. "Emma, Emma, listen to me. You are a mother. You are going to raise your daughter and she will grow up knowing that she is loved and that her mommy is taking care of her."
The young woman realizes, in this moment, that her little girl will always be her weakness. Whatever insecurities she may have, the intense love she feels for her baby girl will always win. With determination in her voice, she agrees, "I will take care of her." Exchanging a knowing smile with her mother, Emma voices, "I'm never letting her go."
Instantly, Mary Margaret catches her daughter in another embrace. "I'm so proud of you Emma, I'm proud of the woman you've become."
Reciprocating the hug, the young woman expresses her gratitude. "Thanks Mom." Every time she says it, "Mom", becomes more natural. Now she truly understands the meaning of that word. Her mother is a woman who loves her unconditionally, without reserve, and would do anything to protect her and help her.
"Regina is going to love her so much."
Normally, the mention of her former lover's name would dampen a situation. However, the hope that Snow White instilled is still fresh. "No kid could ever be more loved," she acknowledges.
"For you little girl's sake, talk to Regina. Talk to your baby's mother."
"Why didn't I tell her when I had the chance?" Emma laments.
Desperate not to have the good brought about by this conversation undone, Mary Margaret rushes to repair the dam. "Emma, it's okay. You'll talk to Regina again and you'll have another chance to tell her."
"My children are the most important people in the world to me. I'm going to put my daughter first and do what's best for her." She places a protective hand over her abdomen and allows all the love she feels for her unborn daughter and her daughter's mother to fill her awareness. "She deserves to be raised by two loving mothers. I want to give her that life."
Snow White's heart swells with pride. She has just watched this insecure woman transform before her. With tears of gratitude sparkling in her eyes, Mary Margaret expresses her elation. "She's lucky to have both of you."
"And she's lucky to have you for a grandmother," Emma replies. She is positively glowing.
"I love you, Emma, always."
The young woman hugs her mother again and whispers, "Thank you for accepting me." Never had she felt such peace.
"How could I not? You are my baby."
The young woman relaxes in her mother's arms, before voicing a legitimate dilemma. "I don't know how to tell her."
"You'll know when the time is right. Tonight just wasn't it. I know you will tell her, after you've rested."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too."
The restored women rise for the short walk to the car. As they walk, arm-in-arm, Emma makes an innocent request.
"Can we stop by Granny's on the way home?"
Making a startling realization, Mary Margaret asks, "Have you eaten since this morning?"
The blonde woman sheepishly shakes her head in response.
"You must be starving," Mary Margaret asserts. She is determined to remedy the situation and quickly.
As she situates herself in the passenger seat of the car, the young woman explains, "I didn't have an appetite all day, probably because of the nausea. But, now I'm craving a grilled-cheese sandwich and cocoa."
Mary Margaret understands pregnancy cravings, from personal experience, and is sympathetic to Emma's plight. Considering how well she's gotten to know her daughter during the last few years, the young mother feels comfortable asking, "No French fries?"
"And French fries," Emma gratefully corrects. She's actually impressed that her mother remembered.
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As soon as they open the door to the apartment, David Nolan captures his daughter in a firm embrace. "Emma. We were so worried."
Though this display of affection was not unexpected, the intensity was a little surprising. The blonde woman beams, basking in her father's love and concern. "I'm sorry Dad. I didn't mean to worry you."
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to be alone for a little while."
"I heard about the ultrasound. Did you tell Killian about the baby?"
The blonde woman is stunned speechless, but her eyes express the heartbreak she is reliving. She rushes past her father, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle the sobs.
The confused, inexperienced, father implores his very perceptive wife. "What's wrong?"
After her recent conversation with her significantly vulnerable daughter, Mary Margaret has no patience for her clueless husband. "Really, David?"
"What did I say?"
It's not his fault that he doesn't understand why that comment was interpreted by his wife as insensitive. After all, he hadn't been granted the opportunity to share in his daughter's recent struggle.
Thankfully for Emma, Mary Margaret swiftly follows her up the stairs. "Emma?"
The young woman is lying in the fetal position, silently weeping into a pillow that she desperately clutches.
Mary Margaret carefully settles her weight on the edge of the bed next to her daughter, the woman who will always be her baby.
"I can't tell Dad the truth," the blonde woman whispers. "He hates Regina."
"He does not hate her," Mary Margaret reveals, gently grasping her daughter's arm to communicate her sincerity. "Whatever resentments he has against Regina, he'll get over them." When the young woman remains unresponsive, the observant mother picks up on what remains unspoken. "I know you're scared."
This gets the blonde woman's attention and she slowly opens her eyes.
Noticing that her words are having the desired affect, Mary Margaret continues, "But nothing is going to change the way your father or I feel about you. We love you, Emma."
Inspired by her mother's encouraging words, the young woman rises to a seated position. After everything she and her mother have been through, Emma has no trouble admitting, "I finally found you and Dad. I'm so afraid I'm going to…" She hesitates. "…disappoint you."
Realizing where Emma's insecurities originate, Mary Margaret assures, "You are our daughter. We are your parents. And we will support you, whatever you decide to do. And we will help you any way we can."
An authentic smile spreads across the young woman's face and she wraps her arms around her mother in a grateful hug. "I missed you so much."
"I'm here now and I will always take care of you," Mary Margaret replies, content to hold her daughter as long as the young woman needs. "Try not to worry, honey. Everything's going to be okay."
When Emma breaks the comfortable hug, Mary Margaret lightly brushes stray hairs out of her beautiful daughter's face.
"Are you ready to tell your father?"
Strengthened by her mother's support, Emma asserts, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
Once the young woman reaches the bottom of the stairs, her mother following a few steps behind, the young woman timidly announces her presence. "Dad…"
David had been seated at the dinner table with his head in his hands, as he tried desperately to figure out why what he said had upset his daughter so much. When he spots his cherished child, he immediately rises and begs her forgiveness. "Emma, I'm sorry. I didn't think."
"It's alright," she calmly replies, with the poise and grace of a monarch. "Dad, I have something to tell you." Surprised by her own self-assurance, Emma discloses the truth, without hesitation. "My baby's not Killian's. She's Regina's." When the bewildered man only falls silent and simultaneously averts his eyes, turning back to resume his seat at the table, Emma feels her confidence dwindle. That familiar, deeply rooted fear of rejection rises to the surface. Worried that she may have just damaged her relationship with her father, beyond repair, the young woman pleads for acknowledgement. "Please say something." She never would have expected what her father does next.
David slowly lifts his hidden face from his hands. It is evident that he had been crying. Meeting his beloved daughter's eyes, he checks to make sure he had heard correctly. "You said 'she.'"
"Yeah. I'm having a girl." As soon as she says that last word, tears automatically fill her eyes.
The expression on the young father's face is evidence of the joy in his heart. "You're having my granddaughter." He rises from his chair, wraps his daughter in a bear-hug, lifting her a few inches off the floor.
Never, in all her years, could she have imagined that her parents would be this wonderful. "Do you think you'll love her?"
"I already love her. She's your daughter, isn't she?" He carefully places his daughter on the floor and kisses her cheek. "Maybe one day I'll learn to love Regina, but one thing at a time."
The family shares a collective laugh, as Mary Margaret joins the adorable pair.
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Later that night, as she lies on her bed, Emma considers a few possibilities for how to begin the necessary conversation with Regina.
How do I tell her? Maybe a text is the best way.
It's your baby. What the fuck, Swan? You don't just blurt it out!
Regina, we need to talk. There. That doesn't sound terrifying at all. No, I can't send that. But I need to talk to her. What do I say?
Unsure of what to do, the young woman turns her attention toward her unborn child.
Placing a protective hand over her abdomen, she whispers, "Hi, baby girl. It's Mommy. I love you so much, baby. You are the most important person in the world to me, you and your brother. Did I tell you that you have a brother? He is going to love you so much. I messed up with Henry, but I'm not going to do the same with you. I promise to always put you first, for the rest of my life. I let my pride get in the way tonight. I should've told your mother when I had the chance. Your grandma said it wasn't the right time. But I am going to do this, for you. I'm telling your mother, as soon as I figure out how."
She turns off the lamp next to her bed, ready for sleep. Before drifting off, she adds, "If you have any ideas, I would really appreciate it."
Realizing that her undeveloped baby is not going to respond to her request, Emma smiles in understanding. She is content in the knowledge that her baby girl is always with her and she will be with her when she has the anticipated conversation with Regina.
"Goodnight, kid."
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Across town, Regina Mills is currently tucking her greatest treasure in for the night. Although she recognizes that Henry is a teenager, she still insists on this nightly ritual after almost losing him forever in Neverland. Fortunately for her, her son is very understanding and incredibly discerning.
"Are you alright, Mom?"
She didn't mean to wear her heart on her sleeve. But, she has been thinking about the boy's other mother since they ended their conversation, several hours earlier. She tries to sound casual. "I've never been better." She is obviously lost in thought. Willing herself back to the present, she confirms, "I love you, Henry."
"I love you too," he responds, grasping his mother's hand.
"Your mother wanted me to give you this." She places a feathery kiss on her precious boy's forehead. "She loves you very much."
The teenager is suddenly hopeful. "You talked to Emma?"
At the mention of the blonde woman's name, the queen's breath catches. "Yes."
"I'm glad she's talking to you again."
"Me too." She offers her son a weak smile. Though she is grateful for their recent conversation, she wants nothing more than to feel this woman in her arms again. She worries that she never will. Emma Swan doesn't have a reason to trust her again, ever.
Judging by his mother's vacant expression, Henry detects that something is amiss. "Is she alright?"
"She's fine, honey." Regina tries to sound reassuring. "She just misses you."
The teenager expresses his confusion. "She's going to see me tomorrow."
"I know." Regina decides that if she can't be there to comfort Emma, she can at least do so vicariously through her son. "Just…be sure to give your mother extra hugs tomorrow."
"Okay," Henry agrees. When his mother turns to leave, he adds, "I'm glad you two are friends again."
Regina lets the weight of that comment sink in. At least she had made some progress with Emma tonight. Tomorrow is another day. "So am I."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, Henry, more than you'll ever know."