Yeah, so I totally sat down to write my 'Maternal Devotion' story for the challenge, but after tonight's episode, this came out instead…

Title: My Baby
Rated: G
Words: 398
Warning: Written in about 10 minutes while I am/was tired and tipsy. Not beta'd.
Summary: Drabble, David comforts Emma. Based on that scene from 'Second Star to the Right' that I've been waiting on all freaking season!

"He's dead."

Emma's words hung in the air as Mary Margaret and I looked at her in shock.

Slowly, she turned and moved toward the stairs. She lowered herself to sit and stared blankly ahead.

Mary Margaret's face held the sympathy I knew our daughter needed and so I turned to get a wet compress for Regina.

My wife's warm hands gently, but firmly took the damp cloth from mine.

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but she gestured for me to go to Emma.

I didn't know what to do.

Most dads got years to prepare for dealing with their daughter's heartbreaks. But I'd barely had time to process the idea that I had become the father of an infant before she was gone. And now that I had her back, she was an adult, barely younger than I was.

The whole situation was so messed up, and I reluctantly shuffled over to her, having no idea what to say or do.

But then Emma's pleading and tear-filled gaze focused on my face and everything clicked into place.

For the first time since the curse broke, I looked at her and saw my daughter. My baby.

It was second nature to move to her side. I sat on the stair next to her and draped an arm across her shoulders. She burrowed into my side as her tears fell and I held her tight.

"How do I tell Henry?"

The stab of pain I felt for my Grandson was nothing compared to hers. Every fiber of my being wanted to take this pain from her. To shoulder her burdens would be a small price to pay to ease her suffering.

The love I felt for her exploded in my heart and I pressed my lips to her temple, unable to tamp down the surge of pleasure I felt at her pressing closer to me in response.

I could hear the urgent murmurs of Snow and Regina as they discussed the latest threat to our lives, but I couldn't bring myself to care about that.

For the first time in almost thirty years, I was holding my baby in my arms.

Emma was lost in her pain. Mary Margaret was lost in her worry.

I felt slightly guilty for the joy and warmth I felt in that moment, but I wouldn't have traded it for the world.

End