Work Text:
There was just something about Mary Margaret. She felt familiar and warm and safe in a way that made Emma want to hold her tight and never let her go. It made her nervous. She was well aware of her tendency to distance herself from those around her and the fact that this woman had managed to slip through the cracks in her armor so effortlessly unnerved her.
Nevertheless, Mary Margaret has slipped through the cracks and Emma knew with absolute certainty that she would do anything to keep her there. That was a thought that kept her awake at night.
She still remembered that awful, wonderful night when Mary Margaret had been crying. Emma had stood awkwardly at the foot of her bed for a while before sliding in next to her roommate and wrapping her arms around her. Mary Margaret curled into her, pressing their bodies flush together as she pulled Emma’s arm tighter around herself. Behind Mary’s hair, Emma flushed, unused to the physical contact except in sexual settings. Mary Margaret’s sobs settled into silent tears as the two women clung to each other. Emma experimentally ran one hand through her friend’s hair. Mary leaned into the touch, sighing contentedly. Emma repeated the motion.
They lay like that, wrapped around each other on top of the covers with Emma petting Mary Margaret’s hair, until both of them had fallen asleep.
When Emma awoke, she found herself still entangled with Mary Margaret, the other woman laying on top of her in the tiny twin bed. Mary was still fast asleep. Emma glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 10 minutes before she was supposed to be at the station. She considered waking Mary Margaret but since it was a Saturday and she didn’t have work, Emma decided to let her sleep.
Carefully unwinding herself from Mary Margaret, Emma crept out of the bed. Mary Margaret whimpered at the loss of contact and Emma felt her heart twinge. She grabbed a pillow and placed it in Mary Margaret’s arms. The woman hugged it, settling back into sleep.
Emma had been unable to focus her entire shift, thoughts returning to the domestic bliss of the night before. When had she been last held like that? Neal? No, even Neal had never held her like that, like she was something precious and comforting. Neal might have loved her but it had never been as pure and warm as Mary Margaret’s love was.
Love ? The thought brought her up short. Did Mary Margaret really love her? Despite herself, Emma was inclined to think so. The woman seemed quick open herself up and to love. Still, it made Emma feel warm and uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite place.
She spent the rest of the day distracted and confused, pushing all of her panic and uncertainty behind thick walls.
They continue to grow even closer over the next few months, despite the hiccup of Emma arresting Mary Margaret (Emma felt like her heart was going to break in two when she did that). Then Mary Margaret gets fucking kidnapped and Emma starts to wonder if the universe hates her specifically.
Tearing into the dark room, she finds Mary Margaret gagged and tied to a chair, eyes wide with tears.
“Mary Margaret!” Emma whispers, running to her roommate and ripping the gag out of her mouth.
“Emma,” She breathes with relief, a smile starting to spread across her face.
Emma is so relieved, so happy, so hyped on adrenaline that, without thinking, she cups Mary Margaret’s face in her hands and kisses her. Mary Margaret squeaks in surprise before kissing back. The kiss is hungry and desperate and so filled with love that Emma wonders distantly if this is what it feels like to drown.
“Ah Emma, at las--!” A voice behind them cuts off abruptly. Emma whips around to see a man outlined in the doorway. He’s tall with brown hair, way too much eyeshadow, an old-fashioned neck scarf, and a gun in his left hand. And he’s disgusted. He is gaping at the two of them, openly horrified.
Emma shoots to her feet, placing herself between Mary Margaret and the man.
“What do you want?” She barks, “I’ve seen your telescope. You’ve been watching me?”
He looks between Emma and Mary Margaret again before shaking his head. He settles his gaze on Emma.
“I- I want you to do something for me,” He lifts the gun to point it at Emma. “If you do, I promise, I will let you and- and her go unharmed.” He spits the “her” as if it physically pains him.
Weighing her options, Emma decides to go along with whatever charade this is for now. She doesn’t have much to bargain with and if he thinks she’s been complacent from the start he might underestimate her readiness to fight and run.
The plan --such as it is-- works. After the man’s (Jefferson's) grand speech, Emma takes her chance to beat him over the head with his telescope and run to Mary Margaret’s room. Within seconds, the woman is untied. But when they turn to leave, Jefferson is once again blocking the door. Emma lunges at him. They grapple for a while but Jefferson manages to grab a fist full of her hair, pulling her to the ground. He takes his chance to pin Emma, one hand around her throat but not really squeezing. His eyes are desperate and wild.
“I’m on your side, Emma, really I am. We have a common enemy, you just don’t see it!”
“You’re crazy,” she spits back.
“Please, Emma, if you just help me you’ll-- you’ll realize that what you’re doing is a terrible mistake!”
Before Emma can reply, Jefferson is knocked off her with a while-placed strike from Mary Margaret with a croquet mallet. She hits him again, in the stomach this time.
“Get away from her!”
She grabs him by the hair and with Emma’s help, they launch the mad man out of the window. His body hits the ground below with a dull thud. The two stare at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily from exertion.
She’s not sure who moves first but the next thing Emma knows, Mary Margaret’s hands are buried in her hair and Emma’s hands are on her waist and they are kissing. Emma stumbles over the fallen chair but Mary Margaret catches her, pulling them closer together.
One of Mary Margaret’s hands travels down to Emma’s waist. Without thinking, Emma reaches down and pulls off her tank top. Mary Margaret pulls away slightly, eyes raking down Emma’s chest. A blush spreads across her face and her eyes darken. Emma resists the urge to squirm.
“Like what you see?”
Mary Margaret hums, “You’re beautiful.”
She’s heard it before but from someone like Mary Margaret, Emma knows she means it and that knowledge fills her up.
“So are you,” Emma says, reaching forward to lift Mary Margaret’s shirt above her head. The other woman stills and Emma pauses, worry and panic racing through her. Is this too much? Are they moving too fast? Is she going to push her away? What if Mary Margaret makes her move out?
“...David,” Mary Margaret whispers. “I, I know he cheated on Kathryn with me but it-- it feels wrong.”
Emma’s heart sank. “That bastard let you take the fall for Kathryn’s murder. He lied to you, dumped you, and abandoned you. If you don’t want to sleep with me, fine. But don’t stop this for him .”
Mary Margaret tilts her head, considering. “You kind of remind me of him,” Before Emma has time to be insulted, she continues, “I mean, you’re like the best of him. In a weird way.” Her eyes trace over Emma’s half naked form again, “But you’re so much prettier.” Emma flushes. Damn this woman.
Mary Margaret reaches up and places her hands on Emma’s, guiding her shirt off.
“Now please, I don’t want to think about him again.” She meets Emma’s gaze and Emma feels her heart stutter. Her gaze is intense and full of lust, a seriousness in her expression that Emma has only seen a handful of times. Mary Margaret is interesting like that. Most of the time she’s a warm, optimistic, virtuous school teacher who sings to birds like a fucking disney princess. And then, sometimes, something shifts and she seems more like a pessimistic, hardened warrior. Emma loves both sides of her but has to admit the latter makes her stomach flip in not entirely unpleasant ways.
“Take off your pants,” Mary Margaret whispers. Emma smirks, slowly peeling off her jeans. No sooner as she stepped out of them than Mary Margaret is pinning her to the old writing desk in the corner. Emma’s being kissed with renewed vigor, Mary Margaret’s hands traveling up and down her body. Mary Margaret breaks away, kissing down Emma’s neck. She bites experimentally at a place just above her collar bone and Emma arches into her.
“ Yes ,” she gasps. She can feel Mary Margaret smirk against her neck.
“What was that, darling?”
“ More, please .”
“If you insist,” Mary Margaret purrs, trailing more kisses and bites down Emma’s chest and stomach. She bites just above Emma’s underwear before pulling back. Emma groans at the sudden loss of contact but Mary Margaret reaches down and picks up Jefferson’s scarf. She looks at Emma, a question in her eyes. Emma nods vigorously and Mary Margaret leans over Emma, pressing her upper body against the desk.
She wraps the scarf around Emma’s wrists and then around one of the far legs of the desk, securing her to it.
“How’s that?” Mary Margaret asks carefully. Emma pulls at the restraints and grins, a familiar heat gathering between her legs.
“Perfect,” she whispers. Mary Margaret grins.
She leans over and kisses Emma, burying one hand in her hair.
“Let’s see if you still feel that way when we’re done,” She teases with a wink. Emma feels herself grow warmer.
Mary Margaret runs her hands down Emma’s waist before settling on her hips. She pushes Emma’s legs apart.
“So wet for me already, I can’t believe we didn’t do this earlier,” she purrs, slowly sliding the underwear down Emma’s legs. “Let’s see if we can’t make you wetter.”
She buries her face between Emma’s legs, her tongue making slow, teasing circles. Emma groans, arching upwards into Mary’s face. She feels subtle vibrations as Mary Margaret laughs.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” The dark look returns to her eyes, “You’re so desperate for me, it’s driving me a little mad, love.”
Emma jerks at the nickname. “Stop teasing,” She grunts out, “Just keep going.”
Mary Margaret huffs out a laugh and returns to eating her out. She licks long strokes up the inside of Emma’s thighs and Emma has to fight the urge to scream in frustration.
At last, Mary Margaret starts teasing her folds again, circling her clit with a gentle but firm pressure.
“Fuck,” Emma gasps.
“That is the idea darling.”
Then, without warning, Mary Margaret plunges her tongue into her. Emma arches, pulling at the scarf as she raises her hips in a desperate attempt to get Mary Margaret’s tongue deeper.
The tongue curls upwards, pressing firmly into a spot that makes pleasure course through her. Mary Margaret’s nose is buried in her clit and as she shifts her head to get her tongue deeper, her nose presses harder into Emma’s bud.
She feels hot all over, despite the cool air coming in through the window. Mary Margaret continues to work her expertly with her tongue, bringing Emma almost to the brink. Mary Margaret’s nails dig into her hips, pushing her tongue still further into Emma.
“I’m almost there,” she gasps, trying to raise her hips but Mary Margaret’s firm grip keeps them down, pressing the two firmly together. Mary Margaret tilts her head, rubbing Emma’s clit in a delicious way while curling her tongue inside.
Emma screams and wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. Her hips jerk and she pulls roughly at the restraints, the table under them creaking. Mary Margaret works her through her orgasm. When Emma’s body finally stops trembling, Mary Margaret pulls out and nips the inside of Emma’s thigh. She meets Emma’s gaze from between her legs and smiles.
“Perfect, you were perfect for me,” Mary Margaret whispers before reaching up and bringing their lips together.
It was another thing that Emma lay awake at night thinking about.
Emma thinks they’re going to talk about it. They don’t. Mary Margaret never brings it up and if she isn’t going to, then neither is Emma.
It’s strange though, Emma would have thought that Mary Margaret was the type of person to want a conversation after sex. Hell, she had practically told Emma as much just a few months prior when she had had her first one-night-stand with Whale. Then again, Mary Margaret had bigger priorities, namely the murder charges filed against her.
Still, it hurt, if Emma was being honest with herself. Part of her wanted to avoid the awkward conversation as long as possible (one that got more potentially awkward as more time passed) but the other part of her longed to talk about it. She wanted Mary Maragaret to reassure her that it wasn’t a fluke, that she really loves her and wants to be with her. But she was terrified that if she brought it up, she would lose Mary Margaret forever. Emma had never felt this way about someone before and all the swirling thoughts and feelings in her head made her feel like she was about to explode. She wanted-- no. She needed to talk to someone about all this. But who could she possibly talk to?
Emma stays in limbo, fighting to prove Mary’s innocence while stumbling over her emotions, trying desperately not to let her facade crack. When August asks her out on what seems like a date, she agrees. It will be nice to spend time with someone and not think about Mary Margaret. Besides, she has to admit she’s curious about the only other newcomer in town.
Then he takes her to the diner.
“What are we doing here? I thought you said this trip was about you?”
He smirks at her, “It is. This is my story. Did you ever wonder about the little boy that found you.”
Emma feels her heart sink slightly.
“That was me. I was the one who found you.”
“What do you want with me?”
“I want to show you our story. I want you to know where you come from.”
Despite her reservations and the alarms blaring in her head, she follows him into the woods. She tries to comfort herself with the knowledge that:
- she has a gun
- she’s behind him and
- she’s already followed him into the woods once and he didn’t hurt her?
It only kind of works.
He leads her to a massive hollow tree. “This is where I found you.”
Emma jerks. “No. I was found by the side of a highway.”
“And how do you know that? ‘Cause you read it in the paper?”
Emma presses her lips into a firm line. He sighs.
“Look Emma, I didn’t tell them everything because I was trying to protect you.”
“ From what? ” she screams.
“From the curse.”
“The curse ,” she laughs bitterly. Of course this was about the stupid curse. Of course every possible link to her past was actually part of this insane delusion. “Have you been talking to Henry?”
“It’s real. Emma this is where we came through to this land.”
He keeps talking but Emma doesn’t want to hear it. She was so tired of this curse. She was so tired of having strange things going on around her, strings pulled by people in the shadows, with no explanation other than “curse.” Because it couldn’t be real. This was real life, not some sort of fairytale or YA novel. This couldn’t be real. Because if it was… Emma shook her head.
“You’re insane.”
“Fine. I didn’t want it to come to this but if this is what is takes to convince you.” Emma braces herself, a small voice in the back of her mind telling her not to look, it’s better if we don’t believe .
Emma barely breathes as August rolls up his pant leg to reveal a perfectly normal leg. She blinks.
“...Ok?”
“Ok?”
“What am I supposed to be looking at?”
He gapes at her. Then, slowly, comprehension dawns and he frowns. “You really can’t see it? Your denial is stronger than I thought.” He takes a deep breath before making a sound of frustration somewhere between a scream and a laugh, “FUCK!”
“What?” Emma asks, alarmed, “Why do you care so much about what I believe?”
“Because,” he growls, standing up and pressing her into a tree, “My life, all of our lives depend on it.”
Emma stares at him, mind reeling. “Then you’re all screwed,” she spits, before fleeing back to her car.
She lays awake that night, thinking about a little boy in the woods.
Katherine shows up in a parking lot and Emma doesn’t know what to think. She should be dead. They found her heart and DNA evidence had confirmed it to be her heart. But there she was, alive and breathing in a hospital bed. She had only vague memories of the crash followed by some time spent somewhere that might have been a basement. Basically, her memories were only useful in the sense that her lack of them told Emma she’d been severely drugged.
Because her heart had clearly not been removed from her chest, the evidence that had previously implied Mary Margaret’s guilt was now what allowed her release. The heart in the troll bridge, Mary’s jewelry box, and the knife in the vent all pointed to murder rather than kidnapping. That, combined with the fact that Mary Margaret had been in custody when Katherine was set free, finally let Emma release her without being accused of favoritism.
When Sidney confessed to kidnapping Katherine, it just further cemented Regina’s guilt in Emma’s mind. Regardless, she had to arrest him. He had confessed and he explained the heart conundrum as bribing a lab tech. Even if he wasn’t guilty, Regina was clearly feeding him lines (even in front of Emma during the confession for God’s sake. And believe it that Emma planned to use that security footage against Regina if she ever got the chance). Maybe that’s how she had faked Katherine’s death? She could have easily (more easily than Sidney) bribed a lab tech for a human heart and then to create fake lab results, “proving” it to be Katherine’s. It made more sense than any other explanation Emma could come up with. Certainly, it made more sense than magic. Still, it didn’t sit right with Emma.
Why would Regina fake Katherine’s death? Clearly she wanted to frame Mary Margaret for the murder but why not actually kill Katherine? Was she afraid she would leave too much of her own evidence behind? If that was true, why wasn’t she more careful to pick up the GIANT piece of her shovel that had broken off. She must have felt it break and still she made no attempt to salvage it or dispose of her shovel. What was her plan after the conviction? If Katherine turned up alive, Mary Margaret would be freed. Keeping her alive would be too much of a risk. Did she plan to kill Katherine later, when people had stopped looking for her and things had quieted down? Again, if that were the case, why not kill her now? If Regina was already burying the box, she’d leave evidence behind regardless of whether or not the heart was real. Maybe she had Sidney bury it? Either way, by bribing a lab tech and doing all that convoluted planning, she was opening up so many more ways for her plot to go wrong or be uncovered.
No matter how Emma thought about, she couldn’t make it make sense. Either Regina was a bigger idiot than Emma had thought or she was missing something big. She hated the voice in her head that suggested maybe what she was missing was right in front of her.
She felt like she was going insane. Every rule she thought she knew was being brought into question. Every friend she had made here she was slowly becoming distanced from, either by Mary Margaret being accused of murder or by Emma pulling away so she didn’t accidentally engulf them in her waves of confused thoughts and feelings.
So she did what she always did when she was overwhelmed. She ran.
She couldn’t leave Henry though. Despite her confusion, she knew with certainty that Regina had framed Mary Margaret and done something to Katherine. She couldn’t leave Henry with that monster.
As always, the kid managed to talk sense into her, begging her not to leave Storybrooke, not to take him from “their” home. It wasn’t their home. It would never be her home… It was
his,
though. And he was right, she had no right to take him away from everything and everyone he had ever known. At least not without thinking it through first.
When she crept back into the apartment, she was met with Mary Margaret, brooding over a mixing bowl in the kitchen. Her eyes flicked to Emma’s when she entered.
“Oh, I thought you’d left,” She said cooly, returning to her baking.
“Mary Margaret…”
“But I couldn’t tell for sure because you didn’t bother to say goodbye,” She gave the mixture a particularly aggressive stir, her soft, measured voice dripping with hurt and anger.
“Do you remember when I left, when I ran, what you said to me? You said we have to stick together, we’re like family.”
Emma’s breath caught. That was the closest Mary Margaret had ever come to acknowledging that night at Jefferson’s. “I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left-”
“You’re right! You shouldn’t have!” Mary Margaret threw the whisk into the bowl and braced herself on the counter. “So why, after everything, did you just go ?”
“I don’t want to be Sheriff, I don’t want people relying on me.” I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want you to leave me , Emma thinks. “I don’t want this, any of it.”
“And what about Henry?”
“I took him with me.”
Mary Margaret narrows her eyes and slowly crosses her arms, looking at Emma as if she had never truly realized how idiotic she was. After a long moment she says, disbelievingly, “You abducted him?”
“Maybe.”
“So you don’t want people to rely on you but you took your son. Now that sounds like a stable home for him. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Emma feels about two inches tall but she forces her voice to sound strong. She’s proud when it comes out only slightly petulant, “I want what’s best for him.”
“And running is what’s best for him? Or is that what’s best for you?” She sighs, “You’re reverting, Emma, into the person you were before you got here. And here I’d thought you’d changed.”
Emma has been desperately scrambling, trying to put up her usually iron-clad walls but they refuse to hold. Every word Mary Margaret says, cutting deep to her core. Emma is dimly grateful that her unaffected mask has stayed in place but it feels like cold comfort when her heart feels like it’s breaking in two.
“You thought wrong,” she says, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
“Well, regardless, you have to do what’s best for Henry now.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh I don’t know. You're his mother, that’s your job. So you figure it out.”
Emma can’t stand the judgment and fury in Mary Margaret’s eyes so she does what she always does and runs.
She runs to Archie and confirms what she had started to suspect in her conversation with Mary Margaret: she is making Henry worse. Well Mary Margaret hates her and Henry is better off without her. She goes to Regina, just to be sure but the Mayor is telling the truth when she says she loves him and will take good care of him.
Reluctant but relieved, Emma takes the proffered apple turnover and goes home to Mary Margaret’s apartment to pack. Henry stops by, furious when he hears about her plan to leave.
“Henry,” Emma pleads, exhausted tears in her eyes, “this isn’t a story. This is reality-- and things have to change. You can’t skip school, you can’t run away, and you can’t believe in curses.”
“You really don’t believe?” His voice is so small and Emma briefly wishes that she did believe. But no, beliveling would mean that Mary Margaret was her mom and Emma just couldn’t wish for a world where that was true.
“I,” Her voice catches, “I can’t . This is how it has to be for now. I made a deal. I used my superpower. She’s telling the truth, she’s gonna take really good care of you.”
“Yes, but she wants you dead.”
“Come on, Henry!”
“You’re the only one who can stop her!”
“Stop her from what ? All she’s ever done is fight for you. It just… got out of hand.” Emma ignores the whole mess with Katherine because she still has no idea what to think about that.
Henry barrels into her, hugging her tight around the middle. Then he sees the apple turnover and he freezes. When she tells him it’s from Regina, he loses it.
“You can’t eat that, it’s poison!”
“Wha- Henry!”
“It’s apple, my mom is trying to put a curse on you! The deal was a trap to get you to eat that, to get rid of the savior.”
“But I’m leaving town.”
“As long as you’re alive, you’re a threat to her curse.”
“Fine. I’ll prove it to you.” Emma grabs the turnover off the plate but Henry yells and rips it from her hands, running to the other side of the kitchen island.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry it had to come to this. You may not believe in the curse or in me, but I believe in you.” Then he takes a bite of the pastry. Emma’s heart skips for a moment but then nothing happens. Stupid. She shouldn’t have let herself think the curse was real for even a moment.
She smiles, “You see? Now, do you want some ice cream with that and we can go back to what we were talking abou-”
Her son collapses to floor.
“Henry? Henry!”
The drive to the hospital is a blur. When Whale keeps repeating that there’s nothing physically to explain his symptoms, she feels the last of her mental defenses crumble. Staring at the storybook in her hand, she feels her world fall to pieces around her. Magic is real. Henry is cursed. Regina is the Evil Queen and actually tried to kill her. She has parents. Mary Margaret is her mom. She fucked her mom. She’s fantasized about meeting her parents her entire life and now she has and everything has been so royally screwed up Emma probably will never be able to face them. She wants to cry and scream and burn the world down.
When Regina shows up, she sees red. This is her fault . Emma drags the sputtering Mayor into a supply closet and throws her into a rack. Bottles and trays of medical supplies clatter to the floor.
“YOU DID THIS!” Emma screams, grabbing her by her shoulders and slamming her into the lockers. Regina struggles, trying to shove Emma off her but Emma releases one shoulder, grabbing her wrist instead, pinning her torso with her own.
“Stop this! My son--”
“Is sick because of you! That apple turnover you gave me, he ate it!”
The fight drains out of Regina instantly and she stares at Emma in horror.
“What? It was meant for you!”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?!” Emma screams. Because she has to know. She has to hear someone else say it. It won’t be truly real until she hears it from someone who claims to not believe.
Regina makes a pained face and lets her head fall back and hit the locker. “Yes.”
“I was leaving town, why couldn’t you just leave things alone?”
“Because as long as you’re alive, Henry will never be mine.”
“He will never be anyone’s, unless you fix this. Wake him up!”
“I can’t!” Regina sobs.
“Don’t you have magic?”
“That was the last of it,” fresh tears spring to Regina’s eyes before rage overtakes her face. She shoves Emma off her, “It was supposed to put you to sleep!”
“What’s it going to do to him?”
Regina shakes her head despairingly, “I don’t know,” she admits, “Magic here is… unpredictable.”
“So he could…”
“Yes.”
“So what do we do?”
“We need help. There’s one other person in this town who knows about this, who knows about Magic.”
“Mr. Gold.”
“Actually, he goes by Rumplestiltskin.”
Of fucking course he does.