Chapter 2 – Emma's POV

Reality is such a funny thing. We tell people to come back to reality when their heads are far too lost in the clouds, or when they find themselves living in their own delusional worlds. We treat reality like it's this finite thing, a steadfast foundation for us to stand on when our dreams have failed us, and our hearts can't handle the weight of hope. That's what it used to be for me. It used to be the only dependable thing I had to lean on; cold, hard facts. I could find strength in the brutality of the truth, because at least it helped me know where I stand.

But now…

My head begins to ache, and I pull the blanket over my head and turn over on my side to face the opposite direction in bed, away from the blaring light of the numbers on my alarm clock that tell me I shouldn't be awake yet. The apartment is quiet, filled with the white noise of soft snoring, ceiling fans, and the heat that kicks in every hour or two. David's words to me earlier hit far too close to home; I know he meant for it to be comforting, to assure me of where I stand with him, to let me know he loves me, and that I'm wanted. I know that in my head, at a very surface level, but my heart has been nothing but confused since I came to this town. From the first moment I met Henry…well, okay, "second" moment we met…until now, life and reality as I had known it has been challenged on every level.

I'm so tired.

Ever since I was little, I dreamed of meeting my parents. I would put myself to sleep every night dreaming about what they might look like, sound like, smell like; I'd try to imagine what it felt like to be wanted and loved. I would tell myself that maybe if I could find them and show them how good I was trying to be, maybe they'd change their mind about giving me up and take me back. I lived with my head in the clouds as a means of survival in my childhood years, but once reality sunk in that they were never coming back, and that I wasn't wanted…I started rejecting myself.

When the curse broke, it was like a light switch got turned on; everyone suddenly remembered who they were. There was an instant download of identity for them that they'd been missing, and while they are recovering in different ways, I didn't get the same luxury. When the curse broke, they all remembered who they were and who loved them, but I stayed the same. All of the sudden, reality betrayed me; I was faced with the truth that I am the daughter of people I believed only existed in stories, fairytales. Man, talk about whiplash…imagine if I could go back and tell twelve year old Emma what I know now: You're a princess. Your parents are Prince Charming and Snow White; your step-grandmother is the Evil Queen, who is also the adopted mother of your son. They were put under a curse and were forced to send you away to this land so that one day in twenty-eight years you'd be able to come back and break the spell. You were wanted the entire time. You are loved. You have an incredible son, who has the most trusting heart of anyone you've ever met. He will become your everything…and it will scare you like nothing else in your life ever has. By the way, you also have magic. Like, you can use magic…apparently being the product of true love does that to a person.

Oh, you don't believe me? Yeah, I can't blame you.

I want to love them, and part of me does…immensely. They are truly amazing people, but putting this deep-seeded anger aside from being given up, I don't feel worthy of being their daughter. I have always yearned for normalcy, and this? This is insanity. I'm still waiting for the moment when I wake up and find that this was all some fever dream.

"Mom?" I hear Henry ask quietly from the entryway; I sit up immediately, jumping at first at the sound of my son's voice, but quickly take a deep breath.

I grab my sweater hanging off the side of my bedpost and wrap it around myself, sitting up. "Kid, what are you doing up? It's like the butt crack of dawn. Is everything okay?

He comes over and sits down on the bed next to me, and I wrap my arm around him, my thumb rubbing his shoulder. He buries his face against my shoulder, and I hold him a bit tighter. "I had the same dreams again," he tells me quietly. "There was this fire, and I was trapped in some room…there was no escape. All I could feel was fear, and my heart wouldn't stop racing."

"Again?" I say quietly, my chin resting on the top of his head. This is the third time in four days that he has been waking up from nightmares, most of which take place in this fire room. "I'm sorry…nightmares are the worst."

He nods and just stays close for a moment before pulling away and rubbing his tired eyes. "You know what helps with recovering from them, though?"

"I do; I'm not convinced Mary Margaret's cookies don't have their own healing powers," I say with a small smile, nodding towards the kitchen. "You want to dig them out while I grab some milk?"

"Way ahead of you," he says, already up and b-lining it for the cookie jar. I roll my eyes a bit, thankful for the distraction from my own thoughts, and get up with him. Grabbing a few glasses from the cupboard and pouring us some milk, he sets a plate of cookies on the counter, and we take a seat at the island. We sit in silence, munching away for a few minutes and trying to remain quiet so as not to wake Mary Margaret and David.

He stares at me, and when I catch him, I raise an eyebrow and stare back before laughing softly. "What, did I cut myself shaving?"

"You weren't sleeping, were you?" he asks, taking a bite of his cookie. Was that his second, or third already?

I shrug, sipping at the milk and offering a small smile. "You're too perceptive for your own good, you know that?" I tease, sighing. "Yeah, to be real with you, I'm still trying to process…all of this."

"What do you mean?" His eyes are so innocent.

"You know, just…everything. It's still sinking in that the curse, magic, this town, all of the stories I grew up thinking were fairytales, it's all real. They're real," I say, gesturing towards my parents' bedroom. Ooh, that feels weird to even think. "I guess I'm trying to figure out where I fit into it all."

"You're the savior; the missing link," he says with an encouraging smile. "You were the final piece of the puzzle, and now you're home."

My smile feels warm on my lips; I love this child more than my own life. "So you tell me," I say softly. "I mean here…with them." I sigh, finishing off the milk and wiping my lips on my sleeve. "I have spent so much of my life wondering who they were, what they were like, what they did for a living. Now that it's here, it's so much more than I could have imagined. Being the daughter of literal 'true love' is so…intimidating." I take another bite of my cookie and ponder things for a few seconds while I chew. "It's like being a preacher's kid…everyone has different expectations of me, and I don't feel like I really fit into the mold. They want the chance to parent me; they want me to need them. And, yeah, in a sense I do…but not in the way they want me to need them."

"I think I know what you mean," Henry says, reaching for what had to be a fifth cookie by now. After he takes one, I put the lid back on the jar and give him a knowing look, a smile at the corner of my lips as I push it back. "But I think there is part of you that needs them more than you know. It's like when you are really hungry after not eating for a really long time and you see food and you try to eat everything all at once…but that makes you feel sick. I think your hearts been hungry to be loved for a really long time, and now that it's happening, it's too much all at once. You just…need it in smaller doses until you get used to it."

My jaw kind of drops, and I let those words sink in. "I hate that you're right," I tell him after a few moments.

He grins wide, and I kiss the top of his head as I stand, taking our plates and glasses to the sink. "All right, my heart feels a bit better. How about you? Think we can possibly get some sleep tonight?"

"It's worth a shot," he says, swinging his legs to the side and hopping off the chair. "G'night, Mom."

"Goodnight, Henry," I reply, watching him head back towards his room. He is the best kid in the entire world to me; it amazes me every day that I get to know him like this.

Maybe that's how David and Mary Margaret are feeling about me, I think, and the thought kind of stops me in my tracks. This intense, overwhelming love, the fear of losing him all over again, this protectiveness, this joy, this sorrow of missing so much of his life…maybe I need to cut them some slack…let them in a little bit more. Give them a chance to parent where they can.

I hang my sweater back on the bedpost and crawl back under the covers, letting out a deep sigh. As uncomfortable as the idea makes me feel, I think it could be worth a shot.