Chapter 3 – Mary Margaret's POV

Feeling your child move within your womb is a feeling unlike any other. There's an immense shock and overwhelming fear mixed with joy when you first find out that you're expecting, and it starts you off on a journey full of firsts…feeling them kick for the first time, your first cravings, first labor pains, first child birth, their first breaths, first cries, first comforts, first words, first steps…right now, I can only imagine what some of Emma's firsts will be and when they will take place. Her little kicks make my heart leap for joy, but with every kick I'm filled with a fear that cannot be denied; with each little bounce of hope comes the looming reality of Regina's curse, and a sense of dread…that day will mean separating ourselves from Charming and giving birth in who knows what world.

It will mean trying to raise our child alone.

The thought makes me so sick to my stomach that I almost throw up for the fourth time this morning, but I manage to hold it back…for now.

A soft breeze filters through the open balcony doors, and I breathe in the fresh air. For the moment, I listen to the song the birds sing outside in the forest below; I hear the comforting sounds of people going about their day, both inside and outside of the castle. I hear the bleating of sheep, laughter, the crash of iron on iron, and I lean my head back against the rocking chair I find myself in, letting the reality of it all rock my fears away. "Just stay present," I whisper to myself, closing my eyes and taking it in. Today, in this moment, life is beautiful. I won't let the fear of what is to come rob me of the joy I have for what is happening right here and right now.

"Your Majesty," a small voice says from the doorway, knocking gently. "I brought you some raspberry leaf tea and a few pieces of toast with jam in case you were hungry."

I glance around and smile, nodding and sitting back up. "That sounds delightful; thank you so much."

A young girl comes in, and she brings over a small cart with the slices of toast, along with an array of jam and butter, and begins pouring a cup of fresh, hot tea. "Are you feeling well? Can I get you anything else?"

I take the cup of tea offered to me, and bask in the steam of it on my face. "No, thank you, Gizelle. This will do splendidly."

She curtsies gently before leaving me to my thoughts once more. The real curse so far has been everyone treating me like I'm some kind of fragile, weak vase that could crumble with the slightest touch; Charming refuses to let me be involved in too much at the moment for fear that the stress of future planning might harm the baby. What they don't realize is that the more I'm told to relax and do as little as possible, the more time that leaves me to stew on all of the unknowns. Today, though, the intentional rest feels nice. Just for today, I am going to sit here and spend time with my daughter, relishing every moment. I begin quietly telling her stories of my own mother from when I was growing up, my hand on my growing stomach –

An alarm begins blaring, jarring me out of my dreams. I reach over to gently turn it off, laying there for a moment to collect my thoughts. David's side of the bed is empty, and I know he's already been up for a couple hours, covering for Emma at the sheriff's station to give her a bit of a reprieve. My hand is still resting on my stomach, and tears well up within my eyes as the last effects of the dream begin to fade away; I never got to experience her firsts. Emma has been rather distant after the breaking of the curse, and I can't blame her one bit. As angry as she is to have learned that her parents had to send her away to save us all, and as difficult as that was for her to experience, the wound of losing her feels all too fresh to her father and me. For her it has been twenty-eight years…it technically has been for us as well, physically, but when the curse broke it was like the part of us that we'd forgotten about had been frozen and rapidly unthawed, and with it came every emotion and memory as if we had just lived it.

I never expected to be walking through some kind of magical post-partum depression twenty-eight years after having my child, but here we are.

The smell of fresh coffee motivates me to get up and wipe away my tears, letting out a deep breath and getting dressed for the day. I settle on a white lacy dress with a black belt and my favorite pair of flats before walking down the stairs to greet my family. Emma stands at the stove while Henry sits at the kitchen island, just starting on frying some bacon. She glances up at me and offers a half-smile in greeting, and I return it, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring some into my favorite mug. "Good morning," I greet quietly, walking over to the other side of Henry and taking a seat. "I hope you both slept well?"

Henry glances up from his homework, giving me a small shrug in response. "Meh…I woke up a lot again," he says quietly. "But it was okay."

Emma looks over her shoulder at me for a moment, then looks away again. "I think that's about the best we can all hope for right now, kid," she agrees, working on buttering some toast while the bacon fries. "How about you?"

I chuckle quietly, but there isn't much humor in it. "I had lovely dreams," I say, my voice faltering a little. Henry gives me a quizzical look, but I smile half-heartedly at him and shake my head, nudging his arm teasingly. He has always been such a sweet, intelligent boy; there's very little he doesn't pick up on. "What are your plans for today?"

Emma turns around, laying a plate of toast on the table along with some scrambled eggs, and I am fairly certain she's blushing. "I was actually wondering if you would like to go for a walk with me. We could bring our own coffee and maybe just…talk?"

"YE...yes!" I say immediately, toning down my excitement mid-word. "I would love that." I feel my heart about to beat out of my chest; I have wanted nothing more than for us to talk, to get to know her as my daughter now that things were all out in the open. I loved getting to know her as a friend, as Mary Margaret, but it's just not the same. "Like, now? Or when are you thinking?"

She actually laughs at that, and the sound of it warms my heart. She has her father's laugh. "How about after breakfast, and a shower…for myself," she clarifies, finishing up the bacon and setting the plate of it on the island as well. Henry takes a plate and begins dishing food onto it. Where I might have felt an appetite before coming down the stairs, everything has been replaced with a flood of emotion and excitement and hope. I steal a piece of bacon and a slice of toast, but my mind is anywhere but on food.

Emma finishes her own breakfast as Henry begins regaling us with a story about his classmates and his sudden "rise to fame" among them now that they knew who his grandparents were. I feel bit awkward, but I try not to show it; it is definitely a different dynamic walking into school now. I will say, my students tend to be a bit less rowdy and far quicker to listen now that they know I'm Snow White, but otherwise it's been more awkward than anything else. Leadership is lonely; it's nothing new to me, but it feels kind of like I've lost a lot of friends since the curse lifted in that regard, and that sucks.

I can hardly wait for Emma to finish showering; I throw all of my anxious excitement into cleaning up the dishes while she gets ready, humming as I go. David will absolutely lose it in a happy way once he hears that she willingly invited me on a walk to talk. Maybe this is the turn of a new leaf for us.

Maybe I should wait on being so excited until I hear what she wants to talk about.

Emma comes out of the bathroom ready to rumble, and I grab a light jacket, handing her leather jacket to her as well. "We'll be back in a little while, Henry," Emma says softly, kissing the top of his head. "Meanwhile, if you need me, I'll have the walkie on me and my phone's on. Don't answer the door for anyone while we're gone...people are kind of crazy right now, and I just don't trust anyone."

"I know, Mom," Henry says, raising both eyebrows. "I'm used to it."

She nods and grabs her coffee mug and I pour myself a real quick one to go before we head out the door. I wait a few minutes as we walk down the street, towards the road that leads to the woods, before clearing my throat. "So, uh…what would you like to talk about?"

"I was up late last night with Henry after he had a bad dream," she starts, pausing to try to find the right words, I'm sure. "We talked for a little bit, and it got me thinking. I guess…I'm not really sure how to do this," she admits. "But I was wondering if maybe I could just ask you some questions?"

My heart is leaping into my chest. "Of course; you can ask me anything," I respond. She has no idea how hard I am working right now to try and keep my composure.

She nods and takes a swig of coffee before looking up at the trees. "Um…I guess…what do you miss most about the other land?"

I consider her question for a moment, biting my bottom lip as I put together my response. "I think I miss the beauty of the land," I tell her, glancing her way. "The mountains that surrounded the castle, the forests full of song birds, the beautiful oceans, and all of the lakes peppered across the kingdom. In a way, I miss the adventure of it all; sure, it was never ending some days, but it gave me a constant appreciation for life and a desire to live it fully. Not to mention, things just seemed a lot more black and white."

"What do you mean?"

I kick a rock with my shoe, watching it roll along the ground as I walk, kicking it again once we catch up to it. "Well, back in our world, evil was evil and good was good. I suppose it's the same here, except this world seems to glorify living in the gray areas of both. Here, we have access to technology and medicine, and things are based more on scientific evidence than the abstract or ambiguous concepts that seemed so tangible (and sometimes were) to us back there. For example…true love." I take a sip of coffee and smile a bit. "Back there, it was something that could be physically created and bottled up, albeit through magic. Here, it's seen more through the eyes of the heart and soul, and as a result it's easier not to take it as seriously."

"I see," Emma says softly, taking that into consideration.

"Can I ask a question in return?" I ask, my heart feeing so hopeful.

Hesitancy crosses her face, and for a moment I fear she is going to reject me, turn back, and head home…but she doesn't. "Sure, I guess that's fair."

"Will you tell me some of your favorite memories from growing up here?" I ask softly. "I know it was difficult for you in so many ways, but surely there had to be a couple good memories along the way?"

Emma winces a little, stopping in her tracks to turn and look at me. "I…uh…oooof," she sighs, turning her eyes down to examine the top of her coffee mug. She looks as though she's battling opposing thoughts before I hear her speak again. "Well, there was this one memory I have. I was in a foster home at the time that belonged to an older woman named Hannah; I was about five years old. She had grandkids of her own, so when her kids found out she was planning to start fostering children, they were more than concerned…but her home was one of the only ones I'd ever felt safe in. I remember one time, it was snowing outside and she set out a bowl onto the front porch, letting the snow build up inside of it until it was nice and full. Then she brought it inside and mixed it with some sugar, vanilla, and cream, and made ice cream from it. We ate it while watching her favorite soap opera."

I smile a little, feeling both sad and thankful for this woman whom I will never get the chance to meet. I'm thankful to her for being a happy and safe place in my daughter's otherwise bleak upbringing. "She sounds really sweet, Emma."

"She was," Emma says, tears filling her eyes as she talks. "Whoo," she breathes out, wiping them away and trying to put on a tough face. "Sorry, I haven't thought about her in a really long time…"

"No, it's okay. You're allowed to feel what you feel." I reach out to wipe away a rogue tear, offering a sympathetic smile. "What else did you like about her?"

Emma almost recoils when I wipe the tear away, but she stops herself and blushes heavily, slowly moving onward down the path. "Her grandkids would come over semi-regularly and play with me," she begins again. "They lived a few towns away, so she didn't get to see them as often as I know she would have liked to. She would always tell me that I kept her young and gave her a good reason to keep living. There was one night where she was brushing my hair and telling me how beautiful I looked, and I remember feeling so…loved. I wanted her to adopt me so badly."

My heart begins to break at the last sentence, and I grip my coffee mug tighter, trying not to show it. "Why didn't she? It seems like she would have been perfect for you."

The tears started streaming down Emma's cheeks as the memories flooded back to her, but she makes no effort to stop or to wipe them away; her eyes look like they're looking at something far more distant. "She had a stroke before things could ever get that far," she whispers. "I found her one morning still lying in bed, and by the time I was able to call for help, I knew it was too late. She wasn't breathing, her body was rigid, and she was so, so cold. By the end of the day, I was back in a new girl's home." She looks at me, absolutely heartbroken; my eyes are filling with tears, too, seeing her hurt rise to the surface. "They didn't even let me go to her funeral."

I take her into my arms and hold her close without asking for permission; while tense at first, Emma actually accepts it, fully breaking down as her unprocessed grief makes its debut. Her shoulders shake and the tears flow for a few minutes before she begins to calm down. "I'm so sorry, Emma," I whisper, hearing her sniffles next to my ear. "I am so, so sorry."

She lets go of me after gaining more composure, wiping her nose and eyes and clearing her throat, her face red and little puffy. "Me, too," she whispers, shrugging and taking a swig of coffee, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. "Thanks…I didn't realize how long I've held that in."

"It's easy to do when you're focused on your own survival," I reply quietly, giving her arm a soft squeeze before turning around and walking back with her the way we came. "Trust me, I know."

We walk for a while back towards the loft in relative silence, just processing things a bit more. I tell her a bit about some funny things the kids were doing in class to try and lighten the mood again…I don't want to upset her further than I already have today. My phone begins ringing in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who it is. "Oh, it's Ruby…" I flip it open and put it to my ear. "Hey, Ruby, can I call you…."

"Snow, you need to get to the diner immediately," she interrupts before I have the chance to finish my sentence. "If Emma's nearby, bring her, too. We have a situation on our hands."

"I…we're on our way," I assure her before hanging up and looking at Emma. She already looked back to being her no-nonsense butt-kicking self. "There's a situation at the diner; Ruby says we need to get there as soon as possible."

Emma frowns, concerned, and begins to jog. "Come on; we're almost back to the loft. We'll take my car."