Title: The Life & Times of Emma Gold
Timeline: canon-divergent AU
Prompt by: rosecake
Rating: PG-13/T
Originally posted: 17th August 2017
Notes: for AU Exchange on Dreamwidth/AO3.
Age 0
Mr Gold liked to walk in the forest. If someone asked why, he couldn't really say. Somehow it was comforting, peaceful. He felt more at home amongst the trees than in the streets of Storybrooke. Not that he had left town. On the contrary, he could see the sign on the road over yonder that declared 'Leaving Storybrooke'. Sometimes he thought he might, and yet had no idea where else he would rather be. After all these years, so many he could not even remember the number. Storybrooke was all he knew, all he remembered...
Movement in his peripheral vision made him stop and stare. Mr Gold looked to the road again and saw a small boy venture over the town limit. He looked left and right, nervously trudging forward and then in amongst the trees. Mr Gold made a quiet approach, careful not to startle the child, curious to see what was in the bundle he was carrying. The oddly dressed little boy, with the red hat perched atop his head, was crouched on the ground when Gold saw him next, laying that bundle from his arms at the foot of a tree. He was talking to it, and Gold listened hard to hear what was said.
"It's alright, you'll be okay. I'm going to go find food for us, and some help... I hope. You stay here. I'll be right back."
Just as soon as the little boy ran away, Gold approached, pushing forward through the underbrush, his cane barely touching the ground as he moved towards the tree and the bundle of blankets at its base. It was a shock to realise the truth, what lay there was a baby, tiny and pink, swaddled in a large blanket.
"Hello, little one," he said, leaning down for a closer look. "What are you...?"
Gold stopped short of saying any more, his eyes falling on some specific stitching on the baby's blanket. Letters, a word. No, a name.
"Emma."
The moment he read and spoke that word, something changed. Gold felt a rushing in his mind and body both, a clarity as the mists parted and everything was suddenly so clear to him. He was not Mr Gold, that was only the lies of the curse. He was Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, all-powerful and undefeated. This baby was Emma, the offspring of Snow White and Prince Charming, the product of true love.
"The Saviour," said Rumpelstiltskin to himself.
He could leave her here, let the boy he now realised was Pinocchio take care of her, but no. If anything should go wrong, if the worst should happen to this little bundle of joy somehow, then the curse would never be broken. Rumpel would never find his son. It was all very well being in The Land Without Magic, and with his memories now intact, but until the curse was broken, there was no hope of bringing magic back, no real chance of Rumpel being able to track down his son successfully.
"I think, dearie, it might be best if you came with me."
Age 2
"Ah, Good Morning, Miss Blanchard," said Mr Gold as Mary-Margaret entered the shop. "What can we do for you this morning?"
"Oh, I wasn't... I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, smile wavering some. "I didn't actually come in to buy anything. I just wanted to check how Emma was doing," she said, eyes going to the baby in her high chair by the counter. "You look much better, sweetie."
"Mar-Mar!" Emma cried, reaching for her with all the power she possessed.
Gold rolled his eyes, moving to let his adopted daughter free and allow Mary Margaret the chance to pick her up. It never ceased to amaze him that somehow from Snow White's cursed name, Emma had managed to find a way to call her something close to 'mama'. The irony wasn't lost on Gold at all. Neither was the fact he was raising one child in order to get back another he had lost, but to dwell too long on those thoughts was fruitless, when more than a quarter of a century still stood between him and the curse's end.
"Oh, sweetie, look at you!" said Mary Margaret, bouncing Emma in her arms. "Every time I see you, you've grown some more, and you're getting more beautiful every day," she declared, hugging her close. "You must be so proud, Mr Gold," she said to him then.
"Aye, indeed," he agreed, smiling in spite of himself "She is a bonnie lass."
"Bonnie lass," Emma intoned in her little childish voice.
Her fingers pulled at the buttons on Mary Margaret's coat still, but her eyes were on 'Papa' and she was smiling at him so sweetly. There was no doubt the child doted on him. She thought he was her father so there was no reason for her not to adore him. There had been so little love in Rumpelstiltskin's life, he never thought to care much for Emma, just to keep her safe so she might one day be the Saviour he needed. One look into those soulful eyes of hers and he was hooked, lost forever. He was her father now, in everything but blood ties, and he adored her.
The bell over the door startled him from silent reverie. Gold winced at the sight of the babe's actual father. David Nolan was a floundering twit, married to another and yet clearly captivated by dear Miss Blanchard. He was also surprisingly good with baby Emma, and she liked him a great deal. Perhaps it was foolish of Gold to be jealous, but he was.
Watching the former prince and princess fuss over Emma, sitting her on the edge of the counter and playing some pointless game that she loved, Gold felt his blood boiling in his veins. She was his child, for at least as long as the curse lasted, not theirs. He fought the urge to explode at them and was only prevented from doing so by yet another potential customer entering the shop.
Gold's heart pounded for very different reasons as she approached the counter, smiling brightly and greeting her neighbours and friends with her usual joy and sweetness.
"Belle," said Gold to himself, immediately clearing his throat and hoping no-one heard. "Good morning, Miss French," he greeted her instead.
"Good morning, Mr Gold," she replied politely, though her attention was fast taken by Emma too.
It was probably for the best. Gold did not know how to handle her presence even now, and knew she was still a little wary of him. Two years ago, when his mind awoke at the discovery of baby Emma, he had come to recall Belle's being in town, but they were not close or in love as they had once been, the curse had seen to that. It was great relief to know she was not dead as he had long assumed, but she did not love him here, she could not. In fact, she had little or no interest in men at all.
"She's such a sweet girl, aren't you, Emma?" Rose asked her, smoothing her hair.
"Bonnie lass," she repeated what her father often called her.
"And so clever to speak so well already!" Rose enthused. "I was only telling Mai-Ling this morning how amazing it is that she can talk so well already."
The cruel twist of the curse that would part loved ones from each other had really made things interesting where Rumplestiltskin and Belle were concerned. Not only was she Rose here, with no memory of Gold as anything but the local shop owner and neighbour, but she was living with a fellow female, and not as room-mates as far as anyone could tell. Mai-Ling was Mulan, a warrior woman, that Rumpelstiltskin had heard of but never met in their days in the Enchanted Forest. He could only assume she and Belle had met between his dearest one leaving the Dark Castle and the curse being cast. Otherwise, he could see no reason at all for them being so close here. Even in the evil of the curse, there was some logic at play in most things.
"And she's so sweet," Mary Margaret continued to enthuse about Emma. "Even as a tiny baby, you almost never heard her cry."
"Except whenever the mayor walked in," said David knowingly.
That was true, and they all knew it. Some instinct or other seemed to make baby Emma scream like the world would end whenever Regina came anywhere near her. It did amuse Gold a great deal, truth be told, and he never tired of the trick. As Emma grew older, he knew he would have to teach her not to fear her enemy, if she was ever to break the curse when she was grown. It seemed a little early to be thinking of these things yet.
"Papa!" Emma called for him, reaching her little arms across the counter.
"Come here, dearie," he said, taking her easily into his arms and kissing her temple. "You are tired. Let us make you comfortable in the back for a nap, and then perhaps all these people who came to see you would be kind enough to make a purchase... or leave us be."
He smiled when he said it, almost as if he were joking, but truth be told he would like to be rid of the company for now. It mattered not what sales he made in the shop. Every day, the curse reset so many things, he would always have money, a house, a life here. There was no other choice.
"Love Papa," said Emma sleepily as he laid her down in her crib in the back room.
"And I love you, Emma," he said, as easily as he ever said anything.
He did not wonder at the words anymore, or how natural they were to say. It had taken no time at all to become accustomed to fatherhood for the second time in his centuries-long life, and in so many ways, he was glad.
Age 5
It occurred to him that he didn't have to send her to school. Mr Gold was sure that nobody in town would fight him if he chose to home school Emma, not even Regina, since he could use his magic 'please' if he must. Still, it would appear odd to those around them if she did not attend, and Emma was just so bright and eager to learn, her papa could not deprive her of the chance to excel.
The oddness for him was having the house and shop to himself for so many hours in the day. He missed Emma like he never thought for a moment that he could. Rumplestiltskin knew loss well enough. Parted from Bae for more years than he would care to count, and now from Belle in such a cruel way as to have her within reach but unobtainable. The pain of those losses pulled at his blackened heart every day. This feeling was nowhere near as bad, and yet it hurt anyway. It was as if a new hole had been carved through his heart, until at last it was time to go and collect his little one from the school.
"Papa!" she cried happily, running into his arms.
"There's my bonnie lass," he said, hugging her tightly. "Did you enjoy your first day, Emma?"
"It was great!" she told him, rattling on with facts and stories about everything from the teacher to her fellow students and more.
Gold could hardly keep up with the speed at which she fed him a lot of jumbled information, but he did his best. Honestly, he loved how happy she looked, how she glowed with joy. It stung a little that she seemed to have had a better day out of his company and she might have had with him, but Gold tried not to think about that. It was just his dreadful bitterness raising its ugly head and Emma needed none of that in her life.
"Well, I think since you had such a wonderful day, we ought to celebrate," he said, as they headed down main street.
"Ice-cream sundaes at Granny's?" asked Emma hopefully, blonde pigtails swinging around her head as she bounced with joy.
"Ice-cream sundaes at Granny's," Gold confirmed, much amused by her excitement at such a thing.
Though they had much, more than most others in Storybrooke, Gold was mindful of ensuring Emma appreciated the simple things in life. He did not want her to be too proud or conceited. If she was to be the Saviour, she must be full of love, hope, humility, as well as the magic and power that would come later.
"Hey, here comes our favourite new student!" said Granny as Emma flew into the diner. "You have a good first day, honey?"
"I loved it!" the little girl told her excitedly. "And now Papa says we can have ice-cream sundaes to celebrate!"
"Well, isn't Papa feeling generous?" said Granny, casting a look at Gold.
He smiled a smile that was as fake as hers, before assuring her that yes, he did wish to order two sundaes for himself and his daughter. They didn't get along and never would. He and the Widow Lucas had a complicated relationship, both in this world and the one before it that no-one else recalled yet. The truth was, most people in town despised Rumpelstiltskin and were either afraid of Mr Gold or at the very least disliked him for some reason or other. In spite of this, they made polite conversation and smiled accordingly for Emma's sake. She was perhaps the most popular person in Storybrooke, and this was before anyone knew she was going to save them from a curse they didn't even realise they were under.
Emma grabbed his hand then and dragged him to a booth. He should have admonished her for being impatient, for being so loud, for pulling on him when she knew he struggled to walk some days. Gold did none of these things, because Emma was his little girl, and he would rewrite the world to have her always as happy as he was right now.
Raising her was making him soft, Gold was well aware, but he could afford that for now. Rumpelstiltskin needed to be dark and bad, to keep his power. Here there was no magic to be had, except for love, and that he had in spades, at least for as long as Emma looked at him with those wide green eyes and called him Papa.
Age 8
"Papa?"
Gold heard Emma's little voice but could not look at her for a moment. He was concentrating hard on looking through the magnifier and carefully mending the chain that held a precious antique locket. It was a tricky job and all the harder without magic, but for a man that had been so good at spinning and weaving almost his entire life, it wasn't so hard.
"What is it, dearie?" he asked her, finally able to meet her gaze.
She was sat on the other side of the desk, homework laid out in front of her that clearly wasn't holding her interest, and a curious look on her face that he was well used to by now.
"Why am I different?"
Emma was forever full of questions. Most were usual for children, Gold supposed, and he answered the majority of them, steering around others that did not have answers he wished one so young to hear yet, if ever. Of course, he had been waiting for dear Emma to be old enough to realise she was not the same as everyone else in Storybrooke.
"Different, love? In what way?"
For all the practice he had put in, all the planning and thought, Gold had no straight answer for what he was sure she meant. Better to buy a little time, he thought, though Emma was not likely to hold back at all.
"The other kids don't change," she said, resting her chin in her hands, her elbows on the edge of the desk. "Every year, they look the same, they stay the same. How come I don't?"
Gold pushed aside his work and leant on the desk towards his daughter. He had long since stopped thinking of her as adopted, and though it was impossible to forget she was to be the Saviour yet, she was more his little girl than anything else for now.
"In this world, Emma, there are the normal, regular people, and then there are those who are... special," he began to explain. "You are one of the special few."
"Is that good?"
Tilting his head, Gold smiled at her.
"It can be," he told her. "In your case, it most definitely is. You are the most special girl in all the lands, Emma. You have something no-one else here can boast."
"What's that?" she asked curiously.
There were a great many answers Gold could give that would all be true. She was the only one not completely cursed. She was the product of true love, and by virtue of that, she was the Saviour. None of that would make any sense to the child, he knew, and though a book that appeared in the shop just last week might make telling her the truth easier, for now, he decided against.
"You, my bonnie lass," he told her, smiling still, "are my daughter. We are different because... well, we are Golds, and that carries weight here. Besides, you have my love and I have yours. So many others are not so lucky. What we have is special, dearie. A family is a rare and precious gift, no matter how big or small."
It didn't answer her question exactly, Gold knew that, but his answer seemed to distract her enough for now.
"I do love you, Papa," said Emma happily, grinning wide, showing off the gaps in her teeth that were as adorable as the rest of her.
"And I you, Emma," he promised, smoothing her hair.
Perhaps next time she asked why she changed and no-one else did, he would find a way to better explain. For now, he wished to let the topic go and was glad to see Emma go back to her homework a while.
Age 10
When she started to read the book, everything changed. Gold had been reluctant at first, not sure how Emma would take the news of the Enchanted Forest and the curse that brought all its residents to Storybrooke. He ought to have known that with her open mind and hopeful nature, she would have reacted better than an old pessimist like him could ever have expected. He did not tell her that the stories told within the pages of 'Once Upon A Time' were true, but it did not take her long to assign the roles and realise what must have happened.
Gold was only grateful that Emma's true parentage was not disclosed in those pages - it would have been too cruel a fate for the both of them. Wherever that book came from or who wrote it down, they had left out certain details that Gold was grateful not to have mentioned yet, and put in certain others that sparked Emma's imagination in ways he never could have guessed.
"I'm so sure Rose is Belle," she said thoughtfully, "but if she was, she should love you, not Mayling."
"Emma, it's just a book," he reminded her, trying to evade her questioning as he headed for the kitchen.
As always, Emma gave chase.
"But you know it's not! There are too many coincidences. It has to be true. Mary Margaret looks exactly like the picture of Snow White, and David would make a great Prince Charming. Mayor Mills is the Evil Queen, Jefferson is The Hatter, Sherriff Graham is the Huntsman... it has to be true," she said with determination.
Gold leaned heavily on the counter top, not knowing what to say for the best. It was unfair to get mad at her, especially when all she said was perfectly true. At the same time, having her meddle in things she could not fully understand was frustrating to say the least and painful at worst.
"Maybe we could have her over for dinner? You're such a good cook, and I can invite her. I know she'd come if I asked, and then I could go to my room so you could be alone. It could be just like that movie, Lady & the Tramp, except with people instead of dogs."
It was difficult not to laugh at the imagery Emma easily conjured from one of her favourite movies. Gold had sat through them all over the years, from the shelf of carefully kept VHS tapes that Emma adored. Unfortunately, life was seldom if ever the fairy-tale that those movies made it seem, not even for those from the Enchanted Forest on which many of those stories were based.
"Sweetheart, I'm afraid there is no chance that myself and Be- and Rose will be together here," he said as kindly as he could, the confession like a dagger through his own heart even now.
For ten years, he had lived with the dull ache of it all, and yet admitting the truth like that, it made the pain spike so much that he was sure he would double over with the force if he were not stronger.
"I wish you could," said Emma sadly. "I wish... Sometimes I wish I had a Mom, and that it was Rose."
Gold's eyes closed at the sound of those words and he took a shaky breath through his lungs. At last he turned toward his little girl and encouraged her into his arms for a hug.
"Oh, my bonnie lass," he said, holding her tight. "I'm sorry that you don't have a mother, and I'm sorry the world cannot be exactly as you wish it," he said, pulling back to look down into her sweet face, "but one day, if you have patience, faith, and hope, your wishes will come true, Emma. If you believe, they truly can."
"I believe, Papa," she told him, smiling bravely through her sadness. "I just wish that wishes didn't take so long to come true."
"Aye, that much I can understand, dearie," he promised her, holding her chin in his hand. "Now, run along, get your homework done before dinner."
"Are we going to the diner?" she asked from the doorway.
"I was going to make us a pie." Gold frowned at her. "Why would we go to the diner?"
"No reason," said Emma, shrugging her shoulders and smiling before she darted away.
Age 13
It wasn't his fault. Emma knew her father loved her, only wanted what was best for her, but the older she got the more she wished she had a mother to turn to. All the women in town seemed to want the job. Mary Margaret, Rose, even Granny, they all did their best to be there for her, but it wasn't quite the same. They were great for the practical stuff, taking her to the store to buy her first female-only products, making sure she understood what was going on with the whole puberty thing. Papa would have been just awful with all of that. Sure, even men knew about women in their way, but it was more than that with her father. He was so old-fashioned and awkward sometimes, and he sure as hell would not understand why she was hanging out in the diner, the park, and the video store so much lately.
Emma had his schedule down. It hadn't taken much to figure because he had hardly changed his patrol route or routine at all over the years. Graham was always so nice to her, and he was just the kind of handsome that she hoped to marry someday. Next birthday she would be fourteen, practically a woman. Emma saw no reason why she shouldn't like him, or follow him around, or wish he would just notice her as more than a kid already.
"Admiring the view?"
The voice behind her made Emma jump a foot in the air, at least she felt like she did. With her hand over her fast-beating heart she turned to see Mary Margaret smiling at her.
"I'm not saying you didn't choose well," she told Emma, taking a seat beside her and looking out the diner window some more. "Graham is a very handsome man."
"I wasn't..." Emma began, before changing her mind.
Though she had no mother, she was pretty sure the looks she got from Mary Margaret or Rose sometimes were patented Mom stares.
"Okay, I was," she admitted then. "But you cannot tell anyone, especially not my father. You know how protective he is of me, if he thought I liked Graham he'd... he'd want to kill him."
"Why?" asked Mary Margaret, narrowing her eyes. "He hasn't done anything, has he?" she asked worriedly.
"Of course not." Emma rolled her eyes. "All Graham sees when he looks at me is a kid, which I am not, by the way," she complained. "He's just so..."
She didn't have a word to describe how 'so' he was. Graham was just everything she wanted, and it felt like a physical pain when he failed to notice her the way she wished he would, just continued to flirt with Regina and occasionally Ruby. It made her sick.
"Sweetie, you know your father isn't blind or stupid," Mary Margaret told her, patting her hand. "He sees you're growing up. He knows things are changing."
There was a significant look that went with those words and it made Emma squirm. She loved her Papa, she really did, but the idea that he had any clue about what she was going through right now, what she was feeling about Graham, it was a little weird to say the least.
"Sometimes I think he wishes I'd stay a little girl forever," she said, sighing heavily. "Like everyone else."
She muttered the last part, glad that Mary Margaret didn't seem to notice - nobody ever did in this town.
"It's not that," she assured her. "he just... I think he feels like maybe you need a woman you can talk to. Emma, honey, I know it's not the same as having a real mother but I am here for you. I would be honoured to take that role... for you," she quickly clarified. "Your father and I... That's not... Oh."
"It's fine, I get it," Emma assured her with a smile that would be a laugh if she wasn't careful.
The very idea of Papa and Mary Margaret was so absurd. Sometimes she still wondered about the book of fairy-tales in her closet, if she had been right to believe in magic and everything. If Mary Margaret really was Snow White and Papa was Rumpelstiltskin. She had to have a mother somewhere, but any time she tried to think about it, her mind got hazy, like she just wasn't supposed to question it.
"Thank you," she said eventually. "I appreciate it. Honestly, I do. It's just... Well, you can't fix it. You can't make me older, or more attractive to... anyone," she said sadly, staring through the glass at the prize she so wished to win. "You can't fix it."
Age 17
"What the hell did you think you were doing?!"
Emma winced and even made a move to cover her ears when Papa exploded at her like that. It happened rarely, but when it did, she was pretty sure the whole town, maybe even the whole state, knew about it, he was just that loud.
"I thought I was having some fun," she told him crossly. "Lately, it's as if you forgot what that means."
It was unfair and she knew it. As the years rolled on, Emma was well aware that Papa was struggling, and that she wasn't exactly helping either. She was becoming rebellious, but she had good reasons. This town was suffocating her. This ridiculous place where literally nothing ever changed but her. She wanted out, and figured there was no reason for her not to go to college next year in Boston or New York. That topic had caused her father's last explosion. This one might actually be worse.
"You are lucky that people in this town have more sense than to fall for your childish games!"
"I am not a child and I was not playing games!" Emma yelled back at him just as forcefully. "Graham is a nice guy and I like him. I know he's a little older, but why should that matter? Nobody here ever ages but me, so I'm gonna catch up to him eventually!"
She could see in his eyes that he was desperate to argue with her. That if she were anybody else he would be swinging his cane and knocking seven bells out of her, but Papa never laid a hand on her, not his Emma, his darling bonnie lass. It had been years now since he called her that and longer since she wanted him to. At least, that was what Emma said. Sometimes she wished the same thing he did, that she was still a little girl, that time would stop for her just like it had for everybody else, then neither of them could be disappointed.
"You're going to be the death of me, dearie!" Papa told her, anguish in his expression. "I'm at my wits end!"
"So am I!" she told him, tears welling in her eyes. "I just... I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this. I need to get out!"
"You're going nowhere, young lady," he told her definitely, though not quite so loud now. "I lost one child, I will not lose another."
"Well, maybe you don't have a choice!" she said, pulling her arm from his grasp. "You can't keep me in a cage, Papa. It's not fair."
"Fair?" he echoed, an almost wild look in his eyes as he made a second grab at her. "You dare talk to me about fair! You've not lived long enough to understand! You'll never understand how unfair life can be!"
He was shaking her by now, screaming in her face, and Emma couldn't take it anymore.
"I know you're taking all your frustration out on me and none of it is my fault!" she screamed at him, pulling free and making for the door. "I didn't ask to be born!"
"Aye, and neither did I, dearie!" he told her cruelly. "You think I brought you into this world?" he said, making over-the-top gestures between the two of them. "I have only one child in the worlds, and you're not the one!"
The tears that had been welling in Emma's eyes this whole time finally broke free at that remark. There had always been rumours that she was not really Emma Gold, that her parents were other than the man she called Papa, but she never believed it, never cared to question it. Now the truth had been spoken, she knew, and there was no taking to back.
"Emma," said Gold, anger fast turning to agony as he suddenly seemed to realise what he had said and what pains it had caused. "I'm sorry..."
"Too late," she told him coldly.
She ran.
Age 22
"Hey, that's really good," said Emma, smiling widely at her son. "You're going to be the smartest kid in your class when you start Kindergarten in the Fall," she promised him.
"I like to write words," he told her, concentrating hard as he formed the next one on the list with his crayon.
He could only copy the shapes so far. He couldn't really read or anything, but Emma liked that she was giving him some kind of head start. Papa had done the same thing with her when she was this age.
The smile faded from Emma's lips when she thought of home, of Storybrooke and the man that had raised her. He wasn't her father, she knew that now, though she had never figured out just precisely who she really was. She continued on as Emma but changed her last name, just in case Mr Gold should come looking for her. If asked, she could not say why she chose Swan, save for the fact they always looked so beautiful and so free, two things Emma always longed to be, most especially that latter. Now she was a wife and a mother, she supposed she ought to feel tied down, but the truth was, she never felt more free, or more safe, strangely.
The sound of the door opening and closing startled Emma from her thoughts, and then she smiled.
"Hey, you know who that is, don't you?" she said to her son. "Daddy's home!"
"Daddy! Daddy!" he cried delightedly, hopping down from his seat and rushing from the room.
Emma gave chase and watched with joy at the father and son reunion. You would never believe they had only been apart a few hours, but she never tired of being reminded how much they loved each other, or her.
"Hey, little man," said Neal, swinging Bobby in the air and then hugging him tight. "Whatcha been doing?"
"Mommy's been teaching me to write words."
"Really? You get 'em all right?"
"Uh-huh." Bobby nodded happily. "Mommy says I'll be the superhero of Kindergarten!"
Emma laughed at that, she couldn't help it.
"That's not quite what I said," she explained, "but I did say he would be top of his class when he started in the Fall."
"I'll bet you will, buddy," said Neal, evidently proud of his little boy. "Your Mom's a real good teacher."
"For now." Emma rolled her eyes.
She hadn't even finished high school and knew Neal didn't have his diploma either. He only got his GED a few years ago, when Emma fell pregnant with Bobby and they decided to go straight for his sake, as much as their own. They could teach their kid to boost a car or fence a haul better than math, english, and science, but they would do their best to be the parents that they never had themselves, the very best mommy and daddy that Bobby could hope for.
"Daddy! Can we play now? You promised Kerplunk when you got home!"
"Sure, kid" said Neal, setting him down on the floor. "You go set it up, we'll be right there."
Emma ruffled Bobby's hair as he ran by them to get his game. She moved to follow him, but Neal pulled her back and into his arms.
"You okay?" he checked, trying to meet her eyes.
"Sure, yeah," she assured him, trying to evade and they both knew it.
"Emma..."
He made her look at him and the moment their eyes met she was reminded of how impossible it was for her to lie to Neal of all people.
"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "I just can't help thinking about me at his age, and then that leads to other thoughts."
"Your father."
"Adopted father," she corrected bitterly. "Neither of us exactly lucked out in the parents' category, huh?" she said with a sad smile, her hands on his chest.
"Hey, we have each other," Neal reminded her, "and we have Bobby. We don't need anybody else, right?"
That got a genuine smile out of Emma. She couldn't help it. He just made her so happy. They both did. Her husband and her son. Her own family.
"Right," she agreed, moving to kiss his lips. "I love you, Neal."
"I love you too, Emma," he promised, tucking her hair behind her ear, their faces so close that their noses touched still. "Always."
Age 28
"Y'know this would probably go a lot smoother if you'd just talk to me."
Emma kept her face against the passenger side window and didn't say a word. It was pathetic and she knew it. She loved Neal so much, and she did understand when he explained about his past and how it was connected to hers. His father being her own adopted father was the hardest part to swallow for the both of them, but they came to terms with it, they had to.
When the book showed up, the whole truth had followed. At first, Emma was so sure that Papa had sent it, but Neal was certain that if Rumpelstiltskin had a clue where either of them was, he would've done more. Then he had to tell her about August, who used to be Pinocchio. About almost leaving Emma years before, but changing his mind at the last.
Now she was twenty eight years old. Yesterday was her birthday, and they were headed into Storybrooke to break the curse. Of course, magic was the least of Emma's concerns. She was more worried about facing Papa. That and introducing him to his grandson. Peering into the back of the car, she couldn't help but smile at Bobby, sleeping soundly still. Ten years old, cute as a button, and named after his grandpa. She was glad at least that he was old enough to understand that Daddy's father was also Mommy's adopted father and that was okay, but perhaps also that he was still young enough to believe in fairy-tales.
When they arrived in town, Emma gave directions until Neal pulled the little yellow bug up to the kerb outside the pawn shop. She got out of the car whilst Neal woke their son and got him out the back seat. Emma took a deep breath and tried to be calm before facing Papa. Just when she thought she had found a moment's peace, she lost it.
"Emma? Emma!"
The voice of Mary Margaret was swiftly followed by the woman herself, barrelling down the sidewalk to get to Emma. She pulled the startled blonde into her arms the moment she reached her, not even giving her a chance to process. It didn't matter. Emma knew now that Mary Margaret wasn't just Snow White, but had come to realise she was also her real mother.
"Oh my... I can't believe you're back! And you've grown so much. I mean, it's been so long, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said, pulling back to look at Emma, taking her face in her hands. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me too," said Emma shakily, not entirely surprised to find she was crying. "I'm sorry I never said goodbye when I left. I did have reasons, I... I just need you to know, I appreciated everything you did for me."
"Oh, sweetie, it's okay," Mary Margaret promised her.
"It's not." Emma shook her head. "But it will be soon. I love you... Mom."
Before Mary Margaret had a chance to wonder on why Emma would call her that or what exactly she meant, Emma pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her cheek. Neal and Bobby stood by the car, watching the scene unfold, both feeling the effect as the curse was finally broken. True Love's Kiss, it could break any curse. Neal had known it and Emma believed. Seeing her real mother for the first time in ten years and finally knowing who she was, it seemed so obvious to her now.
Looking at Mary Margaret in the next moment, Emma saw the mist lift from her mother's eyes. Suddenly, she was Snow White again.
"Emma?"
"Hey, Mom," she replied, laughing and crying all at the same time.
The two women embraced, a beautiful moment that almost drove Neal to tears. It was only made harder to maintain some kind of manly persona when Bobby got between the two women and looked wide-eyed at Snow.
"Grandma?" he tried.
Snow looked astounded, but wasn't afforded the chance to react. The door to the pawn shop opened, and out stepped a man she had seen only as Mr Gold for almost three decades. Now she recalled the truth, and all of it.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she declared, staring at him. "You... you raised my daughter? You kept her safe, I... Why?"
"Seemed like the thing to do," he said too softly, looking only at his adopted daughter. "Hello there, bonnie lass."
He almost smiled when he said it, he couldn't do anything else. She had come back, fulfilled her destiny, as he always knew she would. She knew the truth now, everybody did, and yet she was staring back at him with a flicker of love still in her eyes for him, something he had never thought to see again, even if she did return.
"Papa," she said, barely a whisper, before she launched herself at him and hugged him tight.
His eyes closed as he held onto her, amazed by her reaction, drowning in the relief of it all. He didn't want to need her or to love her, especially now, but it was impossible to stop. She had been his little girl for such a long time. Blood ties or no, Emma was his daughter, as much as she was Snow's or Charming's child.
"It's been so long," he said, holding on with everything he had, hardly willing to let go when Emma tried to pull away.
"Longer for others," she said, making him look at her. "Papa, there's somebody else here who you should remember."
Rumpelstiltskin had been unaware of anybody else present. Now his eyes focused on a child at Emma's side, and then a man. The man used to be a boy, and Rumpelstiltskin knew him well, though he could hardly believe his eyes.
"Bae?"
"Yeah, Papa. It's me."
When the two men embraced, Emma felt her knees start to give way. She leant back on the car and just let the emotion come. Torrents of tears, waves of relief, happiness and pain all tied up together. Bobby came to her and held onto her. Snow wrapped her arms around them both.
Later, there would be a lot more explaining to do. They would need to find David, Prince Charming, Emma's real father. Bobby would have to be introduced to everyone, and Rumpelstiltskin made to understand how his son and the girl he raised as a daughter had found each other, fallen in love, and married. All of that had to be done, but later.
For now, all Emma could think was that she was home. They all were, at last.
Age 30
"Happy Birthday, Emma!"
There was a smile on her face a mile wide and a blush in her cheeks as she accepted the cheering cry of birthday wishes from her assembled family. Though they may not all be blood-related, certainly all of these friends and neighbours were her family now, more than ever before.
It had been an adjustment, returning to Storybrooke, meeting everyone over again under their real names and personalities, introducing her husband and son into that world. Emma hadn't been sure they would stay when they first arrived, but it didn't take long to realise Storybrooke was the only place any of them could really belong.
Neal and Papa had a lot to work through, and it had taken a while to get over the fact that the son Rumpelstiltskin had made and the daughter he had adopted were now a couple in love. Bobby loved his grandpa and Rumpelstiltskin doted on the boy, just as he had on Emma when she was young. Snow and Charming took their parental roles seriously, and had a new respect for the Dark One that they never thought possible after the way he raised their daughter and kept her safe so long.
Peace had been found or made in all quarters, Emma thought, as she glanced around the assembled guests at Granny's diner.
Now she was over her childhood crush, Emma found a good friend and work colleague in Graham.
Having thought better of staying away so long, August (a.k.a. Pinocchio) returned, to make sure Emma fulfilled her destiny, then stayed to be with his father and those he knew well.
Belle had realised that whilst she and Mulan were always good friends, it was her dear Rumpel she was supposed to be with.
Regina, who had proven herself unrepentant when the curse was broken, had finally been vanquished, sent away to another land from which she was unlikely to return. Emma didn't care much if she tried. She was sure that with all the support she had here, nothing and no-one could defeat her.
"Emma? Are you alright, dearie?"
"I'm fine, Papa," she told him, her hand going over his at her elbow. "I'm better than fine, I'm... I'm so happy," she promised.
"My bonnie lass," he said, smiling, taking Emma's chin in his hand. "You have become quite the young woman."
"I couldn't have got this far without you," she told him truthfully.
In her life up to now, she had been called Emma Swan, Emma Cassidy, Princess Emma, The Saviour, and Mom, but she knew in her heart that her true identity would always and forever be Emma Gold.