Three days. It had been three long, long days, in which Emma felt like she was in a different world, one where things were just totally and completely not right.
And while the woman was still very new to this world of magic and fairy tale creatures existing and having parents, she was not unused to Mary Margaret’s chipperness, her unfailing optimism coloring the room. She’d come to realize in the past few days how much her mother’s outlook had become something she valued, something she took strength from. Especially now that people were throwing around words like savior at her, expecting her to save this and defeat that. Even though it was still very hard to see Mary Margaret as her mother, the fact of the matter was that she missed her friend.
It frustrated her to no end how David insisted that this was just something that needed to pass with time. “No! We’ve been trying to let it pass for three days!” she said to him in a hushed whisper, letting off a very annoyed sigh as her father tried to insist that Mary Margaret would be fine if they just left her to heal and process what happened. “Process my ass. That kind of crap may work where you’re from, but in this world when you have a problem, you get up and work through it. Let me try it my way. Give me today. And if it doesn’t work, we’ll leave her alone and let her snap out of it herself.” Her father didn’t seem too into the idea but reluctantly agreed, muttering something about him being at the station if she needed him.
Soon she was alone with her mother, and before she could even speak she heard Mary Margaret’s soft call across the loft. Emma was there in an instant, sitting down on the bed and pulling down the covers to reveal her mother.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
there was nothing sweet or good in death: murder. not the act itself – even if the life taken had been one of evil – and certainly not the aftermath. cora was no longer around to hurt them but she would always be there to haunt her. david had been right in warning her: telling her, more so, that it wasn’t the person she was. too bad she hadn’t cared to listen.
maybe she would have spared herself vast degrees of emotional pain. on the same token, the chance of any further damage being done to her family had not been a chance mary margaret was willing to take.
that was where her inner conflict laid. though her heart raged at her against being a murderer, and every good thing she’d worked so hard to achieve, she wouldn’t take it back. sure, there may have been another way, but time was of the essence. it’d been the easy way. the one that had guaranteed her family one less battle with cora. she couldn’t be sorry for that. ’ where’s your father? ’
talking about her feelings, especially about this, was not something she wanted to do. nor did she plan it. not yet. forest hues focused on the wall before her. avoiding it at all costs was what would be best.
’ shouldn’t you be with henry? ’
mary margaret may have closed herself off from communication but she did still have ears.
there were certainly better ways to start a morning. ones that didn’t consist of heaving the burden of cora’s death around on her shoulders like a carrying pole of death – weighing her down closer to the darkness. it showed in her heart. there was no turning back from murder.
it was emma’s voice who tore mary margaret from her incessant thoughts. her husband’s following in a hushed tone. however, the slight raise of emma’s was all it took to make out exactly what they were talking about. but they weren’t supposed to fight – disagree. she strongly chose to believe they wouldn’t fight over something so useless. this was her fault. it was all her fault. & she alone would be the one to pay any consequence seen fit. even if it meant surviving in her own tortured misery. regina’d made quite sure of that.
hearing the door close, the loft fell silent and an overdue breath falls from her lips. it only takes her a few moments to realize she isn’t alone.
It was her mother’s idea. Now that they had a little peace and quiet without any Evil Queens, portals, or curses to defeat, she thought it might be fun for Emma to get to know her parents better. Please. Emma was still getting used to even having parents, let alone all this ‘savior magic curse’ and ‘parents are fairy tale characters’ stuff. But before any of it even went down, her and Mary Margaret were friends, which is why she just couldn’t bring herself to resist. Which is why she found herself standing in a large field, holding a bow and arrow and trying (failing, really) to hit a stupid target that was across the clearing.
“Can’t we bond some other way? Like grabbing dinner at Granny’s, or watching a movie?”
’ Just relax. Breathe. Raise your chin with your target in sight & release. ’
Though there were many things Snow had imagined doing with her daughter, starting with target practice hadn’t exactly been one of them. Something more along the lines of teaching her how to walk and talk was a little more accurate. However, Emma was long past that stage of life. Much to her dismay. And now that her daughter had seen – not quite the way she’d of hoped for – where they came from, it wouldn’t hurt to teach her a little know-how. When in doubt, when needed, her bow and arrow had always been there for her. Besides, she wasn’t exactly rusty. & as long as she was with Emma, there wasn’t anything Snow wouldn’t do.
’ Look, look – ’
Smile stretching wider across her lips, the frustration radiating off her daughter evident, she steps behind her.
’Keep your eye on the target. ’
Adjusting her arms, Snow then takes a step back. With an airy breath, she speaks again:
