hey, y'all! thanks for checking out this story. i couldn't get this silly idea out of my head, and hopefully i'll be able to flesh it out enough to where you don't think it's so silly. i am not a fan of the various romantic pairings for emma (even swan queen, which normally floats my boat), which is another reason why i feel very strongly that the emma/mm relationship needs to be explored. anyway, i really hope you enjoy. neither OUaT nor Tangled belong to me, sadly. the title for the story and all of its chapters are from the brandi carlile song, hard way home. love and light to all.

Emma Swan felt like a storm was brewing inside her. She was angry, she was hurt, she was upset, she was embarrassed - this whirlpool of emotions churned in the pit of her stomach and kept her from sleep. She'd conned Mulan into letting her keep watch the entire night, but had failed to keep her from promising to relieve her at dawn. As pink tinged the horizon, and the air began to lose most of its chill, Emma added the last of her wood to the fire. She sat back on her haunches and reflected on the events that had led her to this place.

She was embarrassed. Yes, she had taken care of herself for twenty-eight years - in the human world. But admittedly, she'd never fought an ogre before. And she was embarrassed that, after all this time, she needed her mommy to protect her. Secretly, she was glad that Mary Margaret, or Snow, or whatever her name was now, had shot that arrow when she had, because otherwise she probably wouldn't be here. But that didn't stop her from feeling like a disappointment for not being able to protect herself.

She was upset. She was upset that she had disappointed one of the only people who had ever believed in her. Mary Margaret had always had faith in her, and Snow White seemed to still think that Emma was the infant she'd sent through the wardrobe. Emma wasn't sure that this woman - this strange combination of her best friend and worst enemy - would ever be able to find a balance. And that upset her, too. It upset her that it seemed as though her roommate and confidante was never coming back.

She was hurt. Not physically, though the power and stench of the ogre's breath had certainly done a number on her nasal passages - but emotionally. She'd barely had time to process the fact that her parents were alive, and wanted her, and loved her, when she'd once again been thrust into an unfamiliar and unforgiving world.

She still didn't know why her mother had followed her through the hat. Emma supposed it was because she thought that Emma couldn't protect herself - which was turning out to be fairly accurate. And that made Emma angrier than she could say.

She was pissed as hell, in fact. Angry at the circumstances that life had thrown at her. Angry at the constant kicks in the stomach. Angry at Snow White for stealing her friend away from her, and replacing her with a condescending, patronizing, selfish woman who didn't trust her. And, most of all, angry at herself. Angry for keeping the fortress up around her heart, and furious for thinking sour thoughts about her mother.

Truth be told, Snow White was the most selfless person Emma had ever known. She had saved not one, but two children that night. She had sacrificed herself and her one true love for two innocent lives. But, while the adult part of Emma's brain told her that Snow had done a good deed, the childlike part reminded her that her mother had left her in the care of an untrustworthy seven-year old. It wasn't like Pinocchio was known for his stability, Emma thought bitterly.

Casting a nervous glance at the dark-haired warrior beside her, Emma carefully stood and brushed the crumbled leaves off of her backside. She stuck her dagger in her boot, took a swig of water from one of the skin sacks hanging on a low branch, and bid a silent farewell to the campsite. She knew it was only a matter of time before Mulan awoke and found her gone. She had thought about leaving earlier, but had promised to keep watch, and she didn't break her promises.

Remembering her earlier folly, Emma kept her steps light and quiet. She walked towards the sun for a few hours, and then paused briefly to take a break. There was no way of knowing whether or not the three women were following her, if they knew which direction she'd gone, or if they were even looking, but Emma knew to always expect the worst, and so kept her rest short. Her plan was to finish their trek to the castle, which she'd heard her mother say was due east of their camp. She didn't know what to expect, but she did know that she couldn't just wait around for things to get better. She had to get to her son.

Mid-afternoon, trouble found Emma once again. She had been counting on clear skies, and had failed to prepare herself for bad weather. It became overcast quickly, and Emma lost track of the sun. She figured she could just continue on her right-ish trajectory, and banked on a natural sense of direction to lead her where she needed to go. But though her sense of direction told her she was lost, she didn't have the faintest idea of how to get un-lost. The worn ground beneath her feet informed her that she wasn't in uncharted territory, which was comforting, but the gray sky was quickly darkening, and she needed to find shelter fast. Then, in the distance, she saw the spire of a tower, perhaps attached to a castle, and her pace quickened.

She was almost there, when -

"Fuck!" She cursed softly, turning her face to the side so she didn't land face-first in the dirt. "Ow," she moaned, trying to roll over, but not being able to put any weight on her left foot. Lying still, she slowly tried to wiggle her toes. Feeling her big toe cross over the second, she breathed a small sigh of relief. "At least it's not broken," she mused.

Emma planted her hands on either side of her chest, and heaved upwards in a backwards push-up. She bent her right leg underneath her torso, and clutched at a low-hanging branch to pull herself upright. She hobbled down the path, finding a long stick to use as a cane on the side of it. And then she came to a clearing.

In the middle was a tower, stretching upwards about ten feet above Emma's head. She looked around for a door, and, finding none, searched the tower up and down for a point of entry. Her ankle throbbed, her mouth was dry, and her stomach growled discontentedly. Suddenly, a face appeared at a window near the top.

"Hey!" Emma yelled hoarsely. "Can you let me in?"

"Who are you?" The girl called nervously. "What do you want with me?"

Emma sighed with irritation. "I twisted my ankle, and I need some help," she answered in a grouchy tone. "Can I come in, or what?"

"Are you sure you mean me no harm?" She questioned again.

"Yes," Emma bit out.

"Alright," the girl shouted, with some hesitation. "Stand back!"

Emma stumbled back in shock when a golden rope tumbled down the side of the turret. It took her a moment to process that it was hair - and looking back to the window confirmed that it was still attached to its owner.

"Are you serious right now?" Emma muttered. Raising her voice, she said, "I can't climb!"

"I'll pull you," was the slightly muffled response. "Just grab on!"

Sucking in a breath, Emma did as she was told. She dropped her makeshift crutch on the ground, and wove both her hands through the girl's lustrous locks. Bracing her good leg against the wall, she yelled, "Ready!"

Emma felt the oddly exhilarating sensation of moving her outside before her insides, and the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end as her stomach tried to catch up to the movement of her body. In a moment, it was over, and Emma tumbled through the window into a circular room lit with candles and a crackling fire.

"I'm Rapunzel," the girl introduced herself. "Let me help you," she offered, extending a hand to Emma to lead her to a small, cushioned settee. Emma took her hand and allowed herself to be hoisted up off the floor and propelled towards the hearth.

Rapunzel fetched a hassock from in front of the fire, and placed a few velvet pillows atop it for Emma's leg. Emma sighed in relief as her ankle ceased its throbbing from the elevation, and thanked Rapunzel gratefully.

"Would you like some food? Mother left some stew and bread," Rapunzel offered.

Emma opened her mouth, but her stomach spoke first.

"I'll take that as a yes," Rapunzel said with a soft giggle. She grabbed an earthenware bowl from a cupboard, and began to ladle the steaming concoction into it. "What's your name?" She asked, setting the full bowl and a hunk of dark bread in front of Emma.

"Emma," she replied, picking up the bowl with one hand and the spoon with the other. She began slowly, but ate faster and faster as her stomach grew re-accustomed to feeling full.

"Emma," Rapunzel mused, refilling Emma's bowl. "That name sounds familiar. Are you a princess?" She asked.

"Snow White's my mother," Emma muttered.

"You're - you're the savior," Rapunzel said breathlessly. "Mother told me about you! You're meant to save us all!"

Emma swallowed the fear and bile that rose in her throat. "That's what they tell me," she said gruffly, trying to convey in her tone that she didn't want to talk about this.

"Mother says the enchantment she has on this tower is what prevented us from being harmed by the curse," Rapunzel pressed on, oblivious to Emma's discomfort. "But she says that the land is even more dangerous now that it's inhabited by the ogres, and I'm starting to think that I'll never be able to see what the world is like," she said, with a doleful sigh.

"You've never been outside?" Emma asked, without filter. Of course, she knew the story of Rapunzel, but imagining a life trapped inside a single room made Emma's skin crawl. She, after all, had never been able to stop moving.

Rapunzel shook her head. "Mother says it isn't safe, that I'm 'too precious' to let anything happen to," Rapunzel moaned, using air quotes sarcastically. "But I don't think that everyone can be as bad as she says," Rapunzel asserted. "Look at you, for example! You broke an evil queen's curse, and seem like a very nice person to boot."

"I'm not as great as all that," Emma assured her, embarrassed.

"Don't be humble," Rapunzel chided gently. "If everyone was evil, you'd have hurt me by now. Instead, you've been kind. It's nice to have someone to talk to besides Mother and Pascal," she said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

"Pascal?" Emma asked.

"My chameleon," Rapunzel explained. "He's a little shy," she said, gesturing to the reddish lump on the arm of Rapunzel's chair.

'What is it with these people and animals?' Emma wondered incredulously. Outwardly, she just nodded and smiled. Sopping up the remnants of her stew with her bread, Emma finished her meal and tried to rise.

"Whoa, there," Rapunzel commanded, motioning for Emma to sit back down. "I've got to heal your ankle before you can go anywhere."

"How are you gonna do that?" Emma asked skeptically.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Rapunzel implored, widening her green eyes irresistibly. Emma refrained from rolling hers, and nodded for the girl to continue. "My hair has magical powers."

Emma contained a snort. "Seriously?" She asked, as plainly as she could muster.

Rapunzel nodded gravely. "I'm just gonna wrap my hair around your ankle, and before you know it, you'll be all better."

Emma weighed her options. On the one hand, she could refuse, and hobble through the forest to find a place to sleep. On the other, she could accept, and maybe even cajole a warm spot to spend the night, and then hobble through the forest in the morning. "Alright," she agreed, figuring that she'd made it too far in this whole "believing" thing to turn back now.

Rapunzel smiled happily, and wound a thick lock of hair around Emma's ankle. She pulled the hair over for Emma to hold, and she held it at another point, and then wrapped the hair around the ankle again to form a sort of triangle. Then, she began to sing.

Emma was surprised by little, at this point, but even still, the sight of light seemingly emanating from Rapunzel's scalp and flowing through each strand of her hair was stunning. Rapunzel's light voice bounced softly over the notes of her song, and Emma found herself entranced by the words.

Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fate's design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine, what once was mine

Emma felt dizzy. Her ankle didn't hurt, but her whole body felt weightless, as if suspended in zero gravity. She felt Rapunzel's silken hair slip from her grasp, and a golden light swirled and enveloped her, as if it were a tornado of ethereal luminescence.

She faintly heard voices calling her name, like a sweet choir of ladybugs, or something else very small that would have a high-pitched, angelic voice. The voices grew softer, and blurred together, until there was nothing left but a gentle, melodic hum. Then the light dimmed, and everything turned black.