Disclaimer: Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC.

One of my favorite episodes of the first season is True North. And the reason is the scene toward the end with Emma and Mary Margaret and the baby blanket. So I started writing this a while ago, around the same time I was writing Together. And then a Guest reviewer commented on Together saying I should write another one about her baby blanket, and I was like NO WAY I'M TOTALLY DOING THAT RIGHT NOW! So I dedicate this to you, psychic Guest reviewer.

Mary Margaret glanced at the door from her place on her bed when Emma walked in. She paused in the act of folding the clean laundry. Emma was supposed to be on her way to Boston with Ava and Nicholas. If she was back already, hopefully she had good news.

"Hey," Mary Margaret said as Emma sighed and approached the bed. "What happened?"

Mary Margaret watched her. She looked tired, and her eyes were a bit red like she'd been crying. She wasn't sure why, but she had been able to read Emma since the moment they first met. Everyone else seemed to find Emma a bit of an enigma, but Mary Margaret trusted her. She felt like she knew her somehow. So despite the exhaustion in her face and her red-rimmed eyes, Mary Margaret could tell she was happy.

"Their dad," Emma said as she flopped down on the bed beside Mary Margaret. She shot her a sidelong glance, a ghost of a smirk on her face. "He showed up. Changed his mind."

Mary Margaret met her eyes, an impressed smile on her face. "Changed his mind," she repeated. "Just like that."

"He may have had a little nudge," Emma admitted with a shrug.

The two women shared a grin. Mary Margaret continued folding clothes, smiling thoughtfully.

"They found their father," she said, almost to herself. "That's great."

Emma sat up on her elbows. "I wonder what that would be like," she said quietly.

"Maybe you'll find out," Mary Margaret said, her serious tone offset by her smile. "You can't give up."

"I don't know," Emma sighed, glancing away. "I think giving up might be the best plan." Mary Margaret paused and looked at her. "I think I need to let go."

"No you don't," Mary Margaret said with a frown.

"Really?" Emma replied doubtfully. "If they wanted to know me, they wouldn't make it so hard to look."

"Maybe," Mary Margaret nodded. "But maybe there're other reasons. Maybe there is an explanation."

Emma sighed again and lied back down on the bed. "If there is it's something crazy," she said dully. "Something even crazier than Henry's theory."

"Yeah? What's Henry's theory?" Mary Margaret asked distractedly.

"Well, that my parents put me in a magical wardrobe," Emma said slowly as she sat up on her elbows again, a somewhat amused smile on her face. "And sent me to this world to save them."

"Aw," Mary Margaret laughed. "Who does he think they are?"

"Well, for one," Emma began, and Mary Margaret could sense some hesitation in her voice as she sat up fully and met her eyes. "You."

Mary Margaret stared at her. Somewhere in the deepest part of her mind, Snow White was screaming at her. But as always, the Curse was louder.

"Me," Mary Margaret repeated at length, a slightly confused smile on her face.

"Well, Snow White," Emma replied as if it was obvious.

"Snow White… has a kid," Mary Margaret said, surprised.

Snow White shouted angrily. Of course she had a kid, she was looking right at her. But still, the Curse wouldn't let her remember.

"Apparently that book you gave him?" Emma began, smirking. "Not exactly the stories in the most traditional sense."

Mary Margaret laughed, glancing at the shirt in her lap with a playful smile. "I have a kid," she said. Emma laughed a bit, but Snow White wasn't laughing. Mary Margaret frowned. "You'd think I'd remember that."

"Yeah, you'd think," Emma replied lowly, and she looked away.

Mary Margaret stared at her, sensing the shift in her emotional state. "You do kind of have my chin," she said, giving Emma a wide-eyed look and a smile. Emma let out a humorless laugh. Then she looked away again.

"I think I need to go get some air," she sighed. She got to her feet and made for the kitchen. "I'm gonna go think." Mary Margaret got up as well, carrying a small pile of folded laundry. She followed Emma into the kitchen, where Emma pulled a manila envelope from a box on the counter.

A box Mary Margaret hadn't noticed before.

"If you're going to be back late I can wait to eat with you," Mary Margaret suggested lightly, putting the clothes on the counter beside the box.

"No, don't do that," Emma replied distractedly as she headed for the door.

"I'll leave you leftovers," Mary Margaret said, stopping next to the box. The box was full of folders and newspaper clippings, but all of her attention drawn to a blanket hanging over the edge.

She stared at it, the thick white wool with the purple ribbon around the edge, and the name, Emma, stitched along the bottom. She knew that blanket. She had cried when Granny had given it to her as a gift. But the Curse forced the truth from her mind.

"What a pretty blanket," she whispered, her eyes glued to the name stitched in violet thread.

Emma stopped at the door, an odd look on her face. "Thanks," she said. "Goodnight."

Mary Margaret nodded as she left. The Curse was telling her that this was none of her concern. But Snow White was screaming at her more than ever. Snow White was telling her that her baby girl had just walked out the door.

And for just a moment, Snow White was louder than the Curse.

So Mary Margaret picked up the blanket, knowing the feel of it in her hands, knowing every stitch in the name like she had sewn it herself. Because she had sewn it herself. Granny knitted the blanket, but Snow added the name. She lifted the blanket to her face and took a deep breath.

Despite how long it had been, it still had that baby smell. That beautiful, pink, baby smell. But it was more than that. It was so much more than that.

Mary Margaret knew that smell. That was the smell of her baby.

She stared at it with tears in her eyes as the seconds ticked by. She knew. She remembered. She had a daughter. How could she have forgotten her baby, her Emma? She had carried her for nearly nine months, she had felt her kick and watched her husband's eyes light up when he laid his hand on her stomach and felt it too. She had thrown up nearly every morning for two months and experienced bizarre cravings for roasted cockatrice and apples. She had felt her heart break when she kissed her newborn daughter on the head and whispered goodbye.

But the Curse was seeping back in. She fought it, willing herself to hold on, to just hold on to this memory, but it wasn't enough. Snow White was drowned out by the Curse.

So Mary Margaret gave herself a little shake and put the blanket back in the box. And that was that.

But now the Curse was broken. Mary Margaret wasn't just Mary Margaret anymore, she was Snow White again. When all of her memories returned, it wasn't just her memories of her true self. It wasn't just the memories of her real life in the Enchanted Forest. She also remembered all of those moments when she almost remembered. She remembered all of those odd instances Mary Margaret had just written off as déjà vu.

She realized that she had remembered something almost every day since Emma's arrival in town. She began to recognize that John Doe lying in a coma in the hospital. She started feeling connections to people in the town, like Granny and Ruby and Leroy. She started noticing things in the way Emma walked and talked, things that reminded her of herself and her husband.

But the Curse would sweep in, and the instant she remembered, she forgot all over again. She wondered if this started happening to everyone, but she never asked. She was too busy thinking about that one moment, that one instance that nearly broke the Curse all by itself.

"Mary Margaret?"

Mary Margaret jumped. She was sitting up in the loft, on the edge of Emma's bed, staring into the open closet. Emma was at the top of the stairs, frowning at her.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked, more curious than suspicious.

Mary Margaret shook herself a bit. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I was vacuuming and… and I noticed…"

Emma followed Mary Margaret's line of sight. On the top shelf of the closet was the box, and draped over the edge was her blanket.

Emma shifted her weight uncomfortably, glancing between her mother and the box.

"Can I…" Mary Margaret blurted. She sighed and looked down. "Is it alright if I..."

Emma didn't say anything. She walked over to the closet and carefully pulled the blanket down from the shelf. She stared at if for a moment, then sat down on the bed next to Mary Margaret and held it out to her. Mary Margaret smiled at her in thanks as she took the blanket in her hands, just like she had that night a few months ago. She ran her fingers over the name, tears in her eyes.

"Granny made this for you," she whispered, glancing over at her daughter. Emma was sitting silently, her eyes fixed on the blanket and her hands clenched in her lap. "I saw her knitting something around the castle for weeks, but I didn't know what it was."

Mary Margaret smiled sadly, staring at the blanket in her hands. "Your father picked out the wool for the yarn," she continued quietly. "He was raised a shepherd, so he knew good wool better than anyone. They surprised me with it. I was going through some pretty heavy mood swings at the time, so I started bawling." She laughed a bit at the memory. "David thought I didn't like it and he panicked, but Granny knew they were happy tears." She closed her eyes and lifted the blanket to her face, taking a deep breath. "It was perfect."

Mary Margaret looked over at Emma again. She still hadn't said a word, she just sat there biting her lip with her eyes on the blanket.

"I get that this is crazy," Mary Margaret said lowly, and Emma finally met her eyes. Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic smile. "At first I was hoping we could just start being a family right away, but I know it's not that easy. I was your friend, and then just like that I'm your mom."

"Crazy is a bit of an understatement," Emma sighed, though she did smile just a bit. Mary Margaret laughed lightly and nodded.

"But I see that you're trying," Mary Margaret continued gently. Emma nodded silently. "And I know I can come on a little strong. I don't try to, but it just… it just happens sometimes." Emma laughed, and Mary Margaret grinned at her. "You're my baby," she finished with a shrug.

Emma stared at her, and it looked like she was trying to speak, but then Mary Margaret noticed the tears in her eyes, and she knew that Emma's breath was hitching in her chest. She had trouble speaking when she cried.

So Mary Margaret wordlessly wrapped the blanket around Emma's shoulders.

"It's okay, Emma," she whispered, and Emma sniffled a bit in response. "I'm just so glad you held onto this."

"It was all I had of you," Emma replied with a small shrug.

Mary Margaret smiled and wrapped an arm around her daughter, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

"Not anymore," Mary Margaret whispered, and she couldn't help but be delighted when she heard Emma laugh.