'You do not like them, so you say.
Try them! Try them! And you may'

- Dr. Seuss, "Green Eggs and Ham"

Chapter One: Would You, Could You, in a House?

Mary Margaret lay on her right side, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. To an observer standing at the curtain doors to her bedroom, she could have easily been mistaken as asleep, and for the umpteenth time that night, she wished she was. She had thought that after being acquitted of murder, and a crowded 'welcome home party', she would fall asleep before her head hit the pillow. But, apparently, that wasn't to be the case.

Instead, she was being taught the same lesson she'd learned countless times in the two and a half decades of her life thus far: life wasn't fair.

Not to mention it had a twisted sense of humor. While sleep on her jail cell cot had been fitful and full of nightmares, she'd at least had something to think about. Her mind had constantly been constantly busy, running roughshod over the same handful of topics.

How to prove her innocence. How her life had gotten to that point. Cursing herself for following her heart instead of her head when it came to David. Cursing herself for lashing out at the one person who had never stopped believing in her, for something that wasn't her fault. She replayed that moment in her head a lot in her last night in that cell.

'Leave! Leave, leave, leave! Please leave!' She buried her face in her hands, knowing that if she looked at Emma, she'd say yet another thing she'd regret.

'Mary Margaret..' Emma pleaded.

Even without looking, Mary knew her best friend's walls were completely down. And all she wanted to do was strike at that vulnerable spot. Make something else in the world hurt and panic like she had been for weeks. And she was disgusted at herself for it. Because even though she knew why and hated it, she also knew she wasn't strong enough to resist for long. 'LEAVE!'

She was wracked with another wave of pain, her stomach in knots from choking down sobs, and she heard Emma's boots clop forlornly against the cheap tiled flooring as she walked away. She had hurt her only white knight, the only good thing in her life, blaming her for failing to help her. Even though she was the only one even trying.

But now that she was home, wrapped in her warm down comforter, the endless maze of thoughts was replaced by a big empty space. And she still couldn't sleep. She stared at her silver art deco clock, its hands laughing in her face as they crept up on the 'IV' stenciled in black. She'd never really understood the old adage of being too tired to sleep until now. She grunted in quiet frustration as she flipped onto her left side, turning her back on it, pillow still clutched in her arms.

The funny thing was, she wasn't lonely. She'd been lonely for as long as she could recall, and she'd spent many nights contemplating buying a new bed. One that wasn't so big. One that wouldn't allow her to sleep on the right half of the mattress, leaving the other half empty, like she's always done, for reasons she couldn't explain. It was like a physical manifestation of what was missing in her life.

But not tonight. Not, really, since Emma had rolled into town in that kitschy little yellow bug of hers had she felt truly alone. While it still seemed like something was missing in her life, the incompleteness suddenly more bearable.

She let her eyes drift along the photos framed and displayed on her dresser and nightstand. In times past, the collection of pictures of herself with her students had been a comforting reminder of her place in the world. But now, she suddenly found herself realizing how sad it was that those were the only pictures with people in them in her apartment.

Why was that?

She flipped the problem around in her mind, but it was slippery and hard to hold on to long enough to really work it over. She couldn't be that alone, could she? Something in her heart seemed to faintly call for her; pleaded with her to remember that life hadn't always been like this. That it was in her power to change it, if she truly wished to. That this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Where were the pictures of her parents? When was the last night she'd seen them? Her parents were both gone - passed on - but the cause of it was hazy. She knew she knew it, but the details were hazy. Suddenly, an answer popped into her head - keeping pictures of them around had been too painful; that's why she didn't have any up. But was that the answer she'd been trying to remember? It had to be, right?

Mary Margaret sighed. She had been through so much humiliation, and then terror and heartache, for David, and she didn't even have a photo to show for it. To hold on to in secret, or cut his face out of in vengance. Worse still, as much as she wished to deny it, if she had such a picture, it would be displayed on her nightstand that very moment.

Scratch that. Emma would never have let her torment herself like that. The squeak of an old box spring mattress as Emma flipped herself over, followed by the muffled thump of the blonde's fist 'fluffing' a pillow, echoed faintly through the apartment, bringing a smile to Mary Margaret's lips. She couldn't imagine going back to living alone - not after having the warmth and life that having another person there brought.

'Well, if I can't have a picture of David, I'm going to damned well have a picture of my best friend - my family - to keep,' she thought. Somehow, she knew the woman wasn't going to just up and pose for a picture. That kind of thing just wasn't Emma-ish. She'd just have to give her roommate no choice in the matter. Decision made, she closed her eyes, and finally drifted off to sleep as she she formulated plans for 'Operation Shutterbug'.

Okay so it wasn't so much a covert mission like a Henry plan, as it was a brash ambush. "Emma!" she cried a little too enthusiastically as her roommate blearily made her way downstairs, still clad in the tank top and yoga pants that made up her pajamas.

Emma gave Mary Margaret a nod, but continued her way, pulling cereal from the pantry cabinet, along with a bowl. She had gotten the bowl nearly halfway filled when Mary Margaret made a perky announcement from behind her. "I made breakfast! You like pancakes, right?" Emma paused, arm still holding the cereal aloft and looked to her right. Sure enough, there was a stack of pancakes - pancakes apparently poured into Christmas cookie cutters, as they were shaped into stars, gingerbread men, and doves. So cutesy. So Mary Margaret. She eyed her bowl of cereal.

Well, they were still pancakes. She shrugged, pushing the bowl of dry cereal and its box out of her way and loaded up a plate. After pouring herself a mug of the coffee whose aroma had awoken her, she settled at the dining table. She was about to tuck into her meal when Mary Margaret slid into her usual spot, across from Emma. In addition to having her own plate in hand, she carried a gravy boat of syrup which she placed in the center of the table. Emma gave her an appreciative smile before drizzling some over her couple of sips of coffee had woken her up just enough to make basic conversation. "Why up so early?" she asked. It was barely six am, and to have made this breakfast, she would have had to been up for a while.

Mary Margaret shrugged jauntily. "Oh, no reason! Just felt like doing something a little special this morning! You've got to treat yourself every now and again, right?"

Emma shrugged, still not quite awake enough to argue, and cut the head off of a fluffy brown dove-cake with the edge of her fork. She had to admit, when it came to sweet foods, the woman was a master. But that appreciation only lasted a fleeting second before she realized something was off about all this; her Swan-sense was tingling. She narrowed her eyes at her oddly ebullient roommate. "The syrup is warm."

Mary Margaret did her best to shrug nonchalantly. "Yeah... it's better that way." She quickly returned her attention to her plate.

"And there's cinnamon in the batter."

"Like I said - it's better."

"That's not the point. It's way too much effort for a tuesday morning," replied Emma. It looked like she was going to have to play hardball and tweak Mary's neurosis. "Look, if you want me to move out, you can just say so. I'm a big girl - no hard feelings."

Mary Margaret's already naturally big eyes went saucer-sized. "What? No! No! I was just... feeling like doing something nice!" Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow at her roommate as she took another bite from her plate. Mary deflated in defeat almost immediately. "Ok. I want something. But it's not a big something."

"You know you only have to ask for a favor, right?" replied Emma.

"Mmm... maybe not this one."

"You need me to help move furniture or a body?" joked Emma, but instantly regretted it as Mary's face suddenly put the blanch in Blanchard. "Sorry. Too soon."

"No," replied Mary and she sat up a bit straighter, doing her best to put on a devil-may-care attitude. "You've got the right idea. I didn't do anything, and everything is okay now. Time to move on - make a few bad jokes."

"You go girl," Emma replied sardonically. "So, what's the huge favor you felt the need to butter me up for?"

"Well... It's quick. We could do it right now, in fact." She opened her small handbag, which had oddly, been sitting on her lap, and reached inside. "It would only take a second." She pulled out a small silver rectangle. A digital camera.

Emma drew back on reflex, as if the other woman had just pulled out a snake. "Oooh, no. Nope."

Mary Margaret's brow furrowed. "Oh, c'mon, just one."

"Nope. I would do anything for you, you know that. But I will not do that." Mary Margaret couldn't help but detect a little nervousness in her friend's voice; just enough to encourage her to push on. "Especially looking like this," Emma continued, gesturing at her hair and wrinkled sleepwear.

Mary shrugged. "Okay, well, after you get ready, then?" Perhaps if she played oblivious to Emma's discomfort she would simply give in rather than push the issue.

"Aahhuuhh... look. It's not you. I just have this thing about pictures..." replied Emma, nearly squirming in her chair. She quickly shoveled a couple more bites of food into her mouth. "Look, I gotta get rolling, take a shower, I'll... maybe later," she finished lamely and made a quick beeline for the bathroom.

Mary Margaret slumped in her chair, picking at her food as she thought over her next move. She realized it was a little strange to be obsessing over something so trivial, but something in her gut didn't think it was as trite a matter as it seemed. Besides, it gave her something to distract herself with until she got back to her class in a couple days. Before she knew it, it was a quarter to seven, and Emma was still in the shower. She sighed. Clearly, her friend was taking as much time as possible to get ready, probably hoping Mary would leave first - likely forgetting that she wouldn't be back teaching until Monday. And while she could easily win the standoff, having nowhere better to be, Mary decided to step back for a moment and regroup. After all, when you find your forces in a stalemate, your best option is to get the opposing army pinned down while your melee units flank and capture.

She paused, frowning at herself. Where had that come from? She had fallen asleep to the History Channel plenty of times... maybe that was it. Osmosis or something. As the bathroom door opened, wafting forth a cloud of steam, Mary Margaret quickly busied herself cleaning up, not heeding the towel-clad Emma as she made her way back upstairs to her room. Nonetheless, she'd noticed her friend had apparently applied her makeup, minimal than she often wore, but enough to complete her usual look. Clearly, she'd left the shower running simply to discourage Mary from knocking on the door. With the sink loaded, and her roommate still upstairs, Mary took one more moment to fill a large thermos full of hot coffee, black, leaving it with a note at the foot of the stairway to Emma's loft. Couldn't hurt to continue the buttering up, after all. And for the first time in a long time, she stepped onto the streets of Storybrooke with a smile on her face.

Emma had heard the front door close not long after she'd retreated back upstairs, and was relieved to have Mary's request on the back burner for the moment as she zipped up her boots before heading downstairs. She knew she would give in eventually; she hadn't misspoken when she'd called Mary Margaret family, and that meant she had Emma wrapped around her finger, whether she knew it or not. Still, she had to put up some kind of fight, lest the woman think she could just start planning all kinds of warm fuzzy Mary Margaret type moments. Like, Christmas caroling or something. Just because that was months away didn't make the danger any less real. That was when she saw the thermos, perched on the last step, topped with a purple sticky note. She bent down, picking up the coffee, as she plucked off the note.

Seemed like you were moving a little slow this morning.

Thought I'd save you a little time. Don't worry, it's black.

Talk later? 8oD

Emma rolled her eyes out of habit, but a smile played on her lips. She shook her head at the quirky little smiley face that punctuated her friend's bubbly, yet flawless, calligraphy. Yup. She, Emma Swan, was a goner. Stranger still, it didn't seem like such a terrible fate. 'God, I'm getting soft.'

Mary Margaret had decided to take the opportunity to stretch her legs. Long walks had always been calming for her - and being locked away from that outlet had been the worst part of her incarceration. One thing she hadn't missed was how quickly Storybrooke's weather could shift at this time of year. While the pink cardigan/buttoned blouse combo had seemed almost too light in the morning hours, it was now approaching early afternoon, and the sun had burned away any chill in addition to the fog. She kicked herself for not heading back to the apartment to change into something with fabric that breathed better, but it was too late for that now. At least, if she was going to 'accidentally' run into Emma. She was now hoofing it so single-mindedly, that that was precisely what happened as she turned the corner.

Mary Margaret let out a yelp of surprise, echoed by a 'whoa' from Emma, and the two women flung their arms out, grasping the other. They'd mirrored the each other so well, that they somehow managed to avoid a real spill, regaining their footing with minimal stumbling. "Mary Margaret!" exclaimed Emma.

"Emma! Sorry. Guess I was just lost in my own little world," she remarked with a laugh.

Emma shrugged and bent down to retrieve her jacket, which had been knocked from the crook of her arm by their collision. "Yeah, well, you know. You're institutionalized. It happens sometimes when folks are in the big house too long. They can't make it on the outside," she replied with faux solemnity. "You weren't just assaulting the Sheriff to get back behind bars, were ya?" she asked with a sly smirk.

Mary threw up her hands. "You got me!" she replied with a chuckle.

Emma ran a hand through her hair, absently arranging her now tousled wavy hair back into it's normal controlled chaos. "So, seriously, what brings you down here?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I needed the walk."

"I hear ya," replied Emma with an understanding nod. "Unfortunately, duty calls."

Mary frowned. Nothing happened in Storybrooke. Except to the people she cared about, she amended mentally. She just hoped it wasn't so urgent as to put a wrench in her plan. "It isn't something urgent is it?" She winced internally at her tone, hoping it didn't come across as too eager.

"Um, sort of. Red just tipped me off that our old friend Sidney Glass is grabbing a bite at Granny's."

"Oh, well, okay. I was just going to ask you if you'd like to join me for lunch..."

Emma shook her head. "Not today, I'm afraid. I'm kind of planning of a surgical strike. Let him know that we're on to he and Regina's little game and vamanos before he can ask any more questions. Let him stew in it for a bit." She glanced up at the noon sun, squinting against the cloudless sky. "Or maybe I should drag him out here and let him bake."

Mary nodded. "Well, how about an ice cream, then? My treat."

"Uh, sure. How could I say no to that in this weather?" That was when she saw the same offending piece of electronic equipment from that morning in Mary's hand. "But I can say no to that."

"There's no such thing as a free lunch, but this is pretty close," reasoned Mary Margaret. Emma narrowed her eyes and Mary huffed in frustration at the look. "C'mon. One take - your car is right there. It'll be a great shot - like, marking where we first met!"

"We first met in your classroom," reminded Emma.

"Okay, so, where I first invited to you be my roomie," she shot back quickly. Emma simply crossed her arms as she met her friend's gaze. 'Stubborn,' Mary thought to herself. 'That's okay. I can show her the true meaning of the word.' She tilted her head inquisitively. "What's with the fear of cameras? I have a hard time believing you're not photogenic."

"I'm afraid it's going to steal my soul," replied Emma flatly, but the look she got from Mary Margaret made it plain: she wasn't going to get out of this on deflecting quips alone. "I got tired of inhaling burnt photo paper fumes."

Now this got the other woman's attention. She could tell there was an air of truth behind the flippant remark. "Emma..."

The blonde shrugged. "Well, I could ask the same. What's with the sudden obsession of getting some picture with me?"

"You first. Deal?"

"Ok... deal." Emma drew in a breath, but found her tongue surprisingly loose. Maybe she'd been getting too much sun. "Photos are like... a reminder. Call me gun shy, but I really have been bitten one too many times. So, one day, I decided that I wouldn't take them any more. So, when someone I cared about inevitably hurt me, threw me under the bus or whatever, I could just move on, like it never happened. Photos are just a pointless exercise when getting rid of them is just another knot you've gotta tie to close up all those loose ends." She shifted her weight nervously between her feet as her fight or flight nerves tried to surface. And there it was, that sad, but completely accepting smile from Mary Margaret.

"You're worried I'm going to want you out of my life?" she said, and Emma was struck by the genuine surprise, and guilt, in her friend's voice. "If this is because of what I said in jail - when you couldn't find the shovel -"

"No! No. That's... water under the bridge. I've been there. I get it. And I trust you; I do. I couldn't imagine..." There was an awkward pause before Emma felt the need to prod the conversation forward. "So - your turn."

"Hm? Oh. Right." She twisted her emerald ring back and forth on her finger. "This is going to sound silly..."

"As long as it's not for a fairytale mommy-daughter scrapbook, I doubt it'll seem too ridiculous."

Mary laughed. "No... It was just that last night... I couldn't sleep, and I realized that if something were to happen - if I were to go away, there would be no proof I'd done anything with my life except teach kids how to make birdhouses and diagram sentences..."

"C'mon. You're an amazing teacher."

"How would you know?" Mary's tone wasn't hostile or defensive, but genuinely searching.

"Because you gave Henry hope. That's... the greatest thing you can give anyone. It's amazing. I wish I had had a teacher, or hell - any adult really, in my life like that when I was growing up. And I bet he's not the first kid you've been there for." Emma searched her friends eyes for any hint of if what she'd said had sunk in.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Not... really. At least not for as long as I can remember."

"Well, I'm sure that you were just being oblivious," Emma offered, lightly touching a hand to Mary's arm.

"Well, be that as it may... the point is that I have nothing to show for it. To remind me of the amazing people in my life. I love my students, but I'm more than an elementary school teacher. It's been a long time since that was true, but I want to embrace that. I want a piece of the amazing people in my life that I can look at years from now. It seems like memories get so hazy, so quick. Like my whole life is a blur, you know? Having something to hold on to is important."

Emma sighed. There was no arguing against that without being an incredible heel. "Alright... Let's get this over with."

The smile returned to Mary's face. "You're sure?"

"Don't give me a chance to weasel out of it."

"Noted," she replied with a playful nod of her head. "You don't have to worry about me, Emma. You believed in me, and nothing can make me not believe in you," she said as she studied her reflection in the passenger window of Emma's yellow bug, fixing her hair just so.

"Oh, yeah?" replied Emma, her tone indicating she wasn't seriously challenging Mary's sincerity. "And how, pray tell, can you guarantee that?"

"Because you believed in me, with no hesitation, no questions, and fought for me, even when I took out every venomous feeling on you. You stuck by me. I trusted you with my life, because I know you. And that frame job... it confirmed every instinct I ever had about you. I don't know what happened to Regina, but I do know three things. She's damaged - maybe beyond repair - but if she'd had someone like you in her life, I don't thinks she'd be what she is today. Second - she's not done, whatever it is she thinks she's doing. And third - I intend on being with you every step of the way, like you've been for me." She sidled up next to Emma and wrapped her arm loosely around the blonde's waist, before holding up the camera, trying to frame a shot. "Besides, what kind of mother would I be if I left you to fight the Evil Queen all by yourself?" she remarked wryly.

Emma chuckled at this, despite the rather grim implication of what Mary had said. There was a larger truth behind it that made her feel warm, but light at the same time. The tides were turning. She could feel it. And when it came time to face Regina head on, she wouldn't be alone. She rested her head to one side, against Mary's, as her friend snapped her much sought after picture.

"Now, was that so hard?" remarked Mary.

"Don't push your luck, lady," Emma shot back with a waggishly crooked smile. "Meet me in ten at the Sarah's Parlor?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "I'll let them know they need to start on some fresh waffle cones - sheriff's orders."

Emma let out a huff of a laugh. "You know what I like!" She shrugged on her black jacket, despite the heat, and Mary watched as her roommate's shoulders naturally drew back, her posture a little straighter as she seemed to finger something in her pocket. Emma flashed her a nod and a smile as she resumed her walk to Granny's and Mary couldn't help but wonder if her friend knew she wore her jackets like suits of armor.

She smiled to herself as she crossed the street, heading in the direction of the town's ice cream parlor. Emma had been her knight in leather armor in more ways than one, and she was determined to return the favor. She resolved that come what may, they would be sisters in arms.

And that, even more than a framed moment, captured in time, was worth holding on to.

Always.

A/N - For those that haven't seen the deleted scene from 'Stable Boy' that I included in the flashback - get thee to youtube post haste! Simply heartbreaking performance by both. For anyone following my other fic, don't worry, I'm already halfway through the next chapter for "Sparrows". This is just a little plot bunny that needed to be released before 2x02.