Ch. 14 - Unvarnished

Well my friends, we have come to the end. I want to thank those people one last time who took the time to review the story, especially those who reviewed multiple times. It meant a lot to me that you enjoyed it, and chose to share that with me. This is a fairly emotional chapter, and as in most things, the ending is not neatly wrapped up in a red bow. Complication is an aspect to our lives, not just in a negative sense, but in the kind that make our lives a little more intricate and a little deeper.

Emma wondered if time in Storybrooke had slowed down. It seemed to take forever for the spell to release she and Regina, and another stretch of time to wake Henry from his drugged sleep. Regina had waved her hands swiftly, which seemed to clear the fog from his brain, because it took him about three seconds to realize what had happened. "Grams and Gramps," he said to Emma with tears in his eyes.

She enfolded him in a quick hug and kissed the top of his head. "They'll be okay, kid," she murmured, praying her parents wouldn't make a liar of her.

He pulled them out the door, tongue tripping over his words as he told them about the well, and apparently a secret "friend" who was aiding them. As Regina transported them to Storybrook's well, Emma closed her eyes, hoping that if she believed it enough, she would find them safe and whole. Her heart dropped when they reached the well. The surrounding area was completely still, as if every creature around had vanished. "Snow! David!" she called.

Regina scanned the area swiftly, "Snow!"

"Grams! Gramps!" Henry's clear voice carried a plaintiveness that hurt Emma's heart.

"Snow! David!" yelled Emma again as she clasped the sides of the well in desperation.

"We could use a little help," Emma's head snapped around as she heard her father's familiar baritone voice come out of the darkness of the well.

"David!" she called, "Is Snow with you?"

The words had barely left her mouth when she heard her mother's voice, "I'm here too Emma. We're okay."

Trembling, Emma steadied her hands enough to haul the flashlight out of her pocket. It didn't seem to make a dent in the inky darkness. "Where are you?" she asked.

"Pretty much at the bottom of the well," David admitted.

Emma recognized an undercurrent of pain and her heart began beating a little faster. "Are you okay?" she demanded again.

There was a pause, then, "Just a few bumps and bruises."

Shit. If her mother was admitting that, they probably had broken bones or something. G-d damn them, why did they keep doing stuff like this? They were her damn parents. Did they think she didn't need them or something?

"Don't yell at them Mom," said Henry, interpreting her expression easily. "They thought they were helping."

"Well they weren't," she snapped, trying to figure out a way she could get down there. She turned to Regina helplessly, "Can you magic them up here?" she asked.

Regina pursed her lips, her scowl so fierce that the lines might never be erased from her face, "It would be better if I could see them. Safer."

"Henry, give me your flashlight," demanded Emma. She looked at Regina, "Can you float these down to them so it won't hit them in the head or something?"

"That might actually improve their thinking," Regina muttered, visibly calming down with her self-imposed snarkiness. She took the flashlights from Emma's hands as they watched her maneuver them down the well, floating like feathers in a stable wind.

"Got them," said David's voice, the lights giving off a tiny glow from the depths of the well.

"Is that enough?" Emma asked doubtfully. There seemed to be two vague adult-type shadows, but it certainly wasn't very clear.

"It will have to be, won't it?" said Regina.

"She can do it," Henry hung briefly on her arm, giving her one of his most hopeful smiles. "I know she can."

Regina gave him one of her only-for-Henry smiles then began muttering under her breath as she gazed down the well.

There was a barely concealed yelp of pain from Snow and a grunt from David that indicated the two of them, were indeed injured in some way. Emma stared at her white knuckles, refusing to entertain the possibility they were badly hurt. When David's hand appeared at the lip of the well, Regina lowered her arms and Emma grabbed her father's hand with both of hers.

"Help Snow first," David breathed painfully.

Snow's smaller hand, covered with scrapes and some blood appeared quickly. Emma began hauling her out of the well. They collapsed together for a moment, Emma allowing herself to press her forehead against her mother's before she scrambled up to help her father. Henry had grabbed his grandfather's hand and was red-faced with his efforts. Emma held David's other hand as they brought him out of the well. He collapsed near Snow, holding her hand for a moment to kiss it.

Regina watched, eyes shadowed as Emma and Henry held David and Snow in hugs of relief. "Are you okay?" unbidden, Emma's eyes had filled with tears. "Are you really okay?"

Snow cupped her daughter's chin in her hand, her loving hand feeling so good against her cheek that Emma's tears spilled over. "We're fine Emma. Really." David stroked the back of her hair, his big hand stretching across her skull easily.

Henry looked at his family anxiously. "I can't believe you guys left me behind!" he said incredulously. "We were in this together!"

David frowned, "Well that…I mean we…," he looked at Snow.

Snow looked back at him, then at her daughter and grandson, "What David means is that it was us…but not totally us. I mean, it was eleven-year-old us making decisions, not us as we are now." Her gaze fluttered to Regina's for a moment, then darted quickly away.

"So you remember it and everything?" Emma asked.

"Ye-es," Snow's reply was hesitant.

Emma immediately smacked them both on their arms, "What were you thinking? You could've been killed!"

Her parents winced more then the tiny smack warranted. "Sorry?" David's voice was apologetic but his face showed clearly that he was not.

Emma took a deep breath, then looked at them. These were her parents. They weren't little kids anymore. She looked down at her hands in confusion. "You scared me," she muttered finally, her hair falling in a curtain around her face.

"We're sorry," this time David's face and voice were sincere. "We're so sorry Emma. We didn't mean to scare you two," his other arm had wrapped itself around Henry, pulling his grandson nearer to him.

Snow snaked her arm around Emma, pulling her to her side. Emma closed her eyes, letting herself revel in her parents closeness. David and Snow were undoubtedly two of the most physically affectionate people in all the realms. She had learned to accept their constant invasion in her personal bubble, her mother more then her father at first, but it didn't take long for him to give in. At first, she had just thought they were trying to make-up for things, but after spending so long with their child-selves, she realized it was just who they were. Snow would climb into her lap, or lay her head down in her lap, or cuddle into her in her sleep. David would touch her to get her attention, or hold her hand as casual as anything. Touch was comfort. It was an expression of their love and trying to stifle or back away from it would be a form of cruelty. "We need to get you guys to the hospital," Emma sniffed finally.

Her parents nearly instant babble of protest was predictable. "Emma we…"

"We're fine Emma, we just need…"

Emma glared at them. "We're going to the hospital. I seem to remember a certain twisted ankle that got me," she switched her glare solely to her father, "Carried to the hospital and you practically threatened Whale when he said I didn't have to stay overnight."

Her father raised his hands in mock supplication and looked at Snow. She nodded. Reluctantly. "Very well Emma," Snow sighed.

Emma didn't try to restrain her smirk at all. She watched her parents as they maneuvered their way up. "I'll get the car," she said, "It'd be good to try a little four-wheeling."

The image of Emma's little yellow bug flying through the trees was not a comforting one. Both David and Snow opened their mouths to protest but before they could speak, Regina had waved her arms and sent them to the hospital.

Emma blinked a little then said, "Okay. I'll get one of the nurses."

Henry leaned against Snow, looking around curiously. "Mom's not here," he announced.

Snow looked around, a fleeting emotion crossing her features. "Other things to do, I suppose," she gave Henry's shoulders a little squeeze and felt David's hand caress her neck.

It was an uncomfortable few hours. David's arm had a hairline fracture and he had a lump on his head that meant he was in for a night's observation at least. Snow had a gash on her back that required quite a few stitches and had managed to tear a tendon in her leg, of all things. Emma didn't leave their sides, her arms crossed over her chest as she scanned her parents with a protective stance and once and a while, reached out to touch them. Each time they would smile at her, and respond with reassuring words.

The night in the hospital room was even more unpleasant. The room did have two beds, but true to form, Snow and David ended up in one. Emma took over the other one after seeing her parents were truly going to sleep in the narrow bed, holding on to one another like limpets. Henry, after insisting handsomely that his mother take the bed, curled up in one of the hospital chairs that reclined into a semi-bed. They were awoken often, by a nurse, by one another, so when morning came, all were cranky and ready to go home. Processing was slow so Emma and Henry brought breakfast from Granny's consisting of home-made coffee cake, eggs, bacon, and enough coffee to fill a small swimming pool. It was barely enough. The rest of the day passed in lazy splendor as the family alternately napped and played games.

It was only the second day that Emma realized her parents were giving her hesitant glances, and looking away quickly when she caught them at it. While her father seemed generally amused, her mother was another story. Snow actually seemed to be avoiding her. She side-stepped quiet conversations, or even being alone with her daughter. Emma hadn't realized how annoying it was when someone tried to avoid emotional conversations. She felt a little sorry for her parents, knowing they had to do it with her, more than once. Emma finally cornered David when Snow was out grocery shopping and Henry was visiting Regina. David was doing dishes, the dishtowel slung carelessly over his shoulder as he whistled quietly. Emma leaned against the counter awhile, studying him quietly. He wasn't a massive man, but he had an undeniable presence.

"You just going to keep starting at me?" her father's voice teased her and Emma startled and blushed a little.

"Maybe," she replied.

He turned around, giving the cereal bowl one last swipe of the cloth before he put it away. Then he walked toward her, stopping only when he was on the other side of the counter. "I really should apologize to you," he said, a bemused smile on his lips.

"Why?" asked Emma hesitantly. Her parents had apologized many times in their short relationship.

Her father's smile grew. "For the last few weeks. It couldn't have been easy. I mean, Snow and I caused you a lot of trouble," his grin showed he still found it more amusing then anything.

"You?" Emma teased back, "You were the goodest of good boys."

This time, David's cheeks did pink a little, "Not so, I'm afraid."

Well Emma could certainly reassure him on that point. "You were one of the sweetest kids ever," she smirked a little, "It was Snow that was the real problem."

He laughed, "You think so too?"

Emma loved the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the joyous expression on his face more at home then any angry look could ever be. Experience in the foster homes had taught her even wishing for her mother was a lot to ask for. But she would have been lying if she didn't admit that she had dreamed on a man whose laughter would provoke her own and whose very presence would assure her safety. This man was that and so much more. She moved a little closer to him, and she saw his eyes immediately assume that tender look he wore so often when he looked at her. "It was weird," she said honestly. His gaze sobered immediately. "Seeing you guys like that when you were so little."

"Yes," her father took a breath like he was going to say something, but changed his mind.

Emma waited, but when he didn't speak, she forged ahead, uncommonly verbose. "I hadn't realized before…how different your childhood was from mine." She saw a flicker of pain cross her face and continued quickly, "It really was like you were from the Dark Ages or something."

This time a look of insult crossed his face, "Dark Ages?"

"If the armor fits…"

David laughed again. "I suppose you're right."

Emma tilted her head, making her voice as casual as possible, "Would I have been raised like you were?"

Her father's blue eyes met her evenly. "Not…exactly…" he began.

Despite herself, Emma felt a little hurt. Her father had seemed to grow up adored by his parents. Wouldn't her parents have…? Was there something…?

David immediately seemed to catch her train of thought, later she wondered whether it had been in her expression or in the slump of her shoulders. Either way, in millisecond he had grabbed her hand tightly. "I wanted more for you Emma," he said honestly. Her eyes flickered to his nervously before they shot down again. "My parents were amazing and loving, I couldn't have asked for better," he began. Emma looked at him again when he hesitated. "But we were so poor Emma. And the idea that you can live on love isn't true." He swallowed, and Emma knew what this was costing him. He was fiercely protective of his family. "There were nights," he closed his eyes, "Many nights where I went to bed not just hungry, but starving. When I was little I would cry about it, but I stopped when I realized it hurt my mother. There were other things," he looked at their entwined fingers. "When Snow…when your mother told me she was pregnant, I was overwhelmed by the thoughts of what I could give you." A small frown wrinkled his brow, "It's not that I thought material goods were the most important thing. I was just so excited that there was literally, nothing I couldn't buy for you. I'm afraid," this time his mouth slanted upwards in a little grin, "I spoiled you terribly before you even drew air."

Emma smiled back, this was not a hard-kept secret. After she had seen the nursery her mother had told her that her father spent his spare moments trying to fill it. Apparently he had even began giving toys to peasant children, in honor of her upcoming birth. No royal child, had ever been so adored as Emma by her subjects, Snow assured her. She had made it sound like it was primarily on his shoulders but Emma knew, as his number one partner in crime, her mother would have done her fair share of spoiling, both of her and the surrounding children. When she had mentioned, off-handedly, that she would have been spoiled growing up, her mother said, "Would have? Don't try and tell me that you needed a music player for your car?" And Emma had smiled because it was true. She had only to glance at something and her father was off trying to purchase it for her. "Yeah," she agreed.

He nodded, "Every parent wants more for their kids. I just had the ability to do so. And it gave me such comfort to know that you would never go hungry, that you would be given everything by parents who loved you so much that…" Emma reached out to brush the tears from his cheeks, her own tears blurring her vision. "I know," she said softly.

He brought their joined hands to his lips, and kissed the back of her fingers, like he did so often to Snow. It was an intimate gesture and Emma let herself relax into it. They were quiet for awhile, then Emma asked, "Why is Snow avoiding me?"

The look in his eyes told her he knew exactly why her mother was avoiding her and she restrained herself from stomping her foot in irritation. If they both knew, why weren't they talking to her? True love was great but sometimes it could feel very exclusionary, especially when the famous lovebirds had spent their entire adulthood together. "Emma," he began. She gave him a look that reminded him so much of Snow that he stopped, and decided on a better course of action. "Why would you be avoiding us?" he asked instead, reminding his daughter that she was more like her parents then just in appearance.

She scowled a minute, then looked thoughtful. "How do I get her to stop and talk to me?" she asked.

Her father looked at her fondly, then pulled her toward him through their linked hands, dropping a kiss on her forehead, "I'd try a net."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

It didn't take a net but it was a near thing the next morning. David, whose love for the two women in his family made him more than aware of what needed to happen, made a less-then graceful exit as he abruptly pulled Henry out the door and said they were going to do some riding. From the semi-panicked look on Snow's face and the fact she was elbow deep in suds washing dishes, it was clear she wasn't in on this plan. She looked around the suddenly empty apartment, then tried to casually pull off the yellow gloves she was wearing, "I'd better go to the store," she said, not quite meeting Emma's eyes. "I noticed we were running low on food when I made breakfast today."

Emma rolled her eyes at this obvious lie. She would be amused if her mother weren't being so annoying. She moved to the side that Snow was heading. When her mother changed direction, she moved the other way.

"Emma," said Snow, for the first time sounding irritated instead of nervous, "Get out of my way."

Good, an annoyed Snow was an honest Snow. Emma wanted her mother back. She had missed her. This time she held out an arm when her mother tried to dodge around her, only she underestimated her, a bad habit she really needed to stop doing. Snow escaped and was nearly to the door when Emma turned faux casually and said, "I didn't think my mother was a coward."

The upwards motion of Snow's shoulders indicated a sigh and she turned, her coat only half on her shoulders. Her green eyes met her daughter's, and the stubborn set of her chin was identical. "I'm not."

The words tried to be firm, but Emma could tell her heart wasn't in them. "Then why do you keep running away from me?" demanded Emma, moving closer to her mother.

This time the words held more honesty, "I'm not running away…exactly."

"It seems like it," Emma said, letting some of her hurt show through. "You don't want to talk to me. Since when do you not want to talk to me?"

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, it's just that certain things are…private."

"Since when?" Emma snorted. This was another area where having parents the same age as you was a pain in the ass. They thought they should know everything about her life but they still tried to "protect" her from things in their lives. Snow sighed again, and lowered her head. It was a familiar gesture from little Snow, whose long hair would curtain her face when she felt like hiding. Muscle memory, Emma thought. She wondered why Regina had chosen to take Snow's hair, of all things. Was it just a continuation of the punishment she heaped upon her, or was it a too-obvious reminder of the little girl who had admired her so? The sudden tenderness that overcame Emma surprised her. Nobody else in her life, even Neal, had simultaneously irritated and affected her as much as the three people who shared this little apartment. She walked closer to her mother, and reached out for her hand, using the same easy affection and lack of apprehension she had shared with little Snow. She smiled when Snow's warm fingers easily enclosed her own. Emma pulled her mother to the couch to sit, so her mother looked like she was less perched to flee. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Snow's hand clenched a little in hers. "When David and I were…small you took care of us. You protected us."

"Of course I did," Emma's voice lowered in it's intensity. "I would never let anything happen to you."

"Oh, I know that sweetheart," the endearment slipped out easily, along with a small smile.

"So why…?"

"You brushed my hair, you tucked us in bed, you read us stories…" this time Snow's stare didn't falter.

"You didn't get to do that for me," Emma finished quietly.

"It's so strange," Snow admitted. "You were given the…I don't know whether it would be considered a…curse or an opportunity…" she trailed off.

Emma sighed, trying to pull away for a minute. She couldn't help that her parents had missed her childhood and that she was an adult now. She didn't have control over that. "I-"

Snow held onto Emma's hand, "That's not why I was avoiding you." She chewed on her lower lip for a minute as her daughter cast a suspicious look at her. "We were different," Snow began. "More vulnerable."

"Well, yeah," said Emma. "You were eleven."

"Didn't the way…Did what we say or do bother you at all?"

Snow was fishing, but Emma honestly didn't know for what. "No," she said slowly. "I mean, it would have been nice if you weren't landing into trouble every five minutes, but that's pretty much the way it's always been. You were just pint-sized this time." Emma looked at her mother to see if she had coaxed a smile, it would have won one from David, Snow too when she wasn't so somber.

Snow just looked at her, scanning her eyes as if searching for something. "The way I acted? Around other people?"

Emma finally released a breath as she realized where her mother was going, "You mean with Regina."

Snow's face was so still that it was obvious she was right. "Yes," she said quietly.

Knowing her mother was looking for a true answer, Emma thought for a moment, rubbing her forehead in consternation. "It was weird, I guess. I mean, I guess I really understood why things are so screwed up between you guys."

If possible, Snow's face became more still. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly, Emma felt as if she had been sent a note (via bluebird of course) that said, Enjoy skipping! By the way – you're in a minefield! "I guess it's because of how you feel," she said slowly.

"I hate her," Snow's voice was low, full of warning.

"Yeah, but…," Emma looked at her mother's face and stopped. "Hey, its fine with me if you want to hate Regina. You can hate her all you want."

"I do!" Snow's voice snapped.

"Okay," said Emma, holding up a hand to calm the growing ire in her mother's voice.

"I do!" said Snow again, sounding more frantic, the words spilling out quickly. "She came to the castle that night…the night of the curse," rapid color was mounting her cheeks. "She was going to kill you. I knew that. She wasn't going to kill me, I knew that too, but she would have killed you." Her hand tightened so painfully on Emma's that the other woman drew in a sharp breath. Snow continued, only seeing the past. "When I…When I gave you to your father, I thought my heart was breaking. I didn't know if I could live again. It hurt to breath. It hurt to move. All I could see was your little face. All I could feel was your little fingers around mine." Snow was crying now, and Emma felt wetness on her own cheeks. "The only thing that saved you was your father, and he was bleeding all over the floor of your nursery when I found him again. And when Regina came in…she smiled. She smiled when she saw him…and me," Snow sobbed a little, then bit her lip with startling ferociousness until it bled. "I could almost forgive her, after what she did to my father, and I loved him very much. But you…" this time, Snow raised Emma's hands to her lips and kissed them tenderly, cupping one to her cheek and holding it there. Emma felt her breath catch, as she saw the raw love in her eyes. "You were my baby. You were my baby and she would have killed you. I had to send you away. Away from me and your father and our home. I hate her," the sobs came from deep within her. "I hate her for that."

Emma sobbed too, and let her mother draw her into a fierce hug, her arms around her like the Gordian knot, never to be undone. They stayed that way for long moments, Emma breathing quietly, measuring her breaths against her mother's. When she felt it slow, she leaned away for a moment, looking at her mother again. "It's okay for you to hate Regina," she repeated carefully. She thought of the happiness on little Snow's face when Regina did her hair, and the edging-to-softness look in Regina's eyes, when she looked at Snow at times. She took a deep breath, "But it's also okay if you love her, even a little bit."

Snow paled and opened her mouth a few times. "What kind of mother…" she began, then stopped.

Her eyes were wide, and at that moment, Emma saw the hurt child within her mother. "I will never, ever be mad at you for loving Regina," Emma said with great deliberation. "And I will never think you're a terrible person or a bad mother for doing that."

"I hate her," Snow all but whimpered, her eyes wide and wet.

Her daughter nodded, "I know. But I think you love her a little bit too." Her mother's eyes closed in helpless defeat. "You're mad at yourself but you shouldn't be. You can't always make your heart listen to the rest of you."

"Emma," it was a whisper. "I love you so much. If she ever tried to hurt you…"

"You'd kill her. I know that too. Stop beating yourself up for loving a woman you thought of as your mother."

There were no words, and Emma let herself be held again by the woman who was both her mother and her best friend. Snow's heart beat rapidly, like a bird held in the hand of a protective giant, slowing only when Emma relaxed against her and whispered, "I love you Mom. Always. You and Dad and Henry. Always."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Several days after the "re-biggening", as Henry called it, Snow was almost entirely back to herself, something her daughter, grandson, and husband were very happy about. She and David were hip-deep in trouble, as usual. Little David and Snow, had managed to start a bit of a civil war between Rumpelstiltskin, the fairies, and King George. While it hadn't turned fatal, due to some judiciously placed magic and some dealings that made nobody truly happy (the very definition of a compromise, David had said), people in the small village were on edge. Coming from a town meeting, Snow had spat, "We've got fairy problems," and Emma had just shook her head at her life. "Yeah, that's never going to sound normal," she said. As expected, Snow was especially irritated to learn she had made several deals in her child form, prompting her to ask Emma in exasperation, "What were you doing this whole time?" Emma responded to this completely unfair accusation by laughing, and patting her mother rather condescendingly on the hand, "Don't blame me because I couldn't control you. That's a job for an entire army (or Regina – she thought but didn't say as that was still a tender point with her mother). Henry manfully tried to own up to his part in the problem, but other than a stern talking-to, his grandparents didn't blame him.

It seemed like life in Storybrook would continue it's awkward, meandering, life-in-two-worlds flavor, that is until the next giant, or witch, or mermaid showed up on the shores again to lead them into the next adventure. Emma had decided to relish the relative quietness of the town and let her parents make a fuss over her and try to compensate for the trouble they had caused. Since it consisted of her getting treated to doughnuts and being allowed to decide what they watched on TV and listened to on the radio, she reveled in it. The apartment was still tiny but it was definitely home.

Regina had been avoiding the family for the most part, although she did spend her scheduled time with Henry as usual. She and Snow circled one another uneasily, but said no more then four words at a time.

Henry came back from her house one day, his backpack unusually full, and plopped himself onto the couch where his grandmother was cuddled next to his grandfather.

He looked at her, his mouth quirking in a grin that always reminded her of Emma and her husband. "What is it Henry?" she asked, as Emma came to join them, seating herself on the large comfortable chair across from them.

"I found something of yours," Henry said brightly. "It was at Mom's. It was in a drawer. I asked her and she said that I should give it back to you." He pulled out the familiar baby blanket, handing it to her with great relish. "She didn't want to talk about it, but I think she repaired it. When King George came to get you guys it got trashed."

Snow stroked it hesitantly, unsure of what to expect. The blanket felt as it always had, the wool warming her fingers and the silk feeling as smooth as ever. She looked at David who looked worried, then Emma who was thoughtful, then Henry's face, which shone with an eager grin. "I think she was saving it Grams. She didn't mean to have me find it."

Snow touched his cheek gently, "Thank you Henry."

Henry's grin widened and he allowed her to give him a kiss, then scooted over to Emma where he squished himself against her until he was sitting half on her, and half in the chair. He sighed happily.

Emma gave his head a kiss, nodding at David's look as he put his arms more tightly around her mother. Snow's face was thoughtful as she fingered the blanket. She wasn't looking for more complication in her life, but she was young, and her family was young. Their story certainly wasn't over and maybe there were other happy endings to be had.