Emma & Mary Margaret's Magical Words OOM

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret's never been so glad to see her door. Yesterday, maybe, but not as much as this second. Because that time was a day behind her now. It had been one foot and then the other, and just turning the steering wheel. Taking the stairs. Not stopping to pick anything up, because she bought groceries not too long ago.

So that she can close the door behind her. Put the whole morning somewhere that isn't the entire space inside her chest that it keeps refusing to leave. Then, remember with some awkward surprise (and was that something like relief, too?) that she isn't alone here, when there's a blonde woman on her couch.



Even when she isn't sure she doesn't just want to be alone, Mary Margaret managed to find somehow a teasing tone for her voice. "Is this how my tax dollars are put to work? I thought it must be far more illustriously spent."

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[notinthebook]

"Really?"

She's teasing, a little, but it's gentle. Mary Margaret wears her heart on her sleeve and Emma doesn't want to see it trampled on, but it's hard to know what to do or say.

So she settles for teasing.

Gently.

"In the whole world?"

[the_fairest]

It is. It's the worst thing in the world, and so very much not like her. He hadn't been awake days ago. Now he was. Smiling and talking, and his eyes so sad about not remembering anything. Finding ways to say things that made the whole world stand still, because they sounded familiar. As though she'd heard them before.

And. "If Kathryn was horrible, it would be easier."

Taking a bite of the first s'more, looking up at the ceiling. Feeling like an idiot. For everything she felt. For how terrible the words she was saying were.

"But she's so...nice."

With her big eyes and her boxes of photos.

Her endless hope, and smiling at his nurses.

[notinthebook]

Her lips press together into a sympathetic line, and her voice is soft, but firm.

"And what, exactly, would be easier?"

It's a dangerous line Mary Margaret's walking. She's so sweet, and David is so nice, and of course they have a bond. She saved his life, found him when no one else could.

It's a powerful thing, but...yeah. Dangerous.

She's been down this road before.

[the_fairest]

Well, the fact that she-- Oh, God.


It was horrible enough to say these things. But to even imply Henry's story might have taken root. That she might have believed. True Love, and Prince Charming. His opening his eyes, only inches from her. The way he looked at her like she was the only light in the room.

He had a wife. Beautiful, and kind. With red rimmed eyes from crying, that she never did in his hospital room, always trying to be so hopeful and helpful. Who was doing her best. And good to everyone. His wife.


"Nothing." It blurted out.

[notinthebook]

She nods, but it's not unkind.

"Nothing’s a good idea. You’re smart – you know not to get involved with a married guy. It’s not worth the heartache."

A wry, tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth, knowing.

Old heartbreaks hurt like bruises that have gotten banged, and she takes a breath, smiles through the memories that suddenly feel like crashing through that rickety barrier. "Trust me."

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret's brow furrowed at the last two words. The other ones she knew were advice. Sane, rational advice. But those last two words were an admission.

Far more telling than anything she'd implied about Michael or Graham. She took a breath, trying to figure out what to ask, in the trust or sharing of those words.







Which was when the knock sounded on the door.

[notinthebook]

"I'll get it."

What the hell's gotten into her? That's not anything she wants to relive, nothing she wants to talk about, and nothing she wants anyone else knowing, but all those thoughts go right out of her head when she opens the door and sees who's there.

"Kid?"

Henry looks up at her with eyes glossy from tears, cheeks red and sore-looking, and for a second she's filled with such a rush of emotion that the world spins.

"What happened?" He's too upset to talk, and she steps forward quickly to pull him against her, feeling his arms tighten around her waist, his face press into her stomach. Tears dampen her shirt, and her heart makes a short, painful jump sideways before plummeting into her stomach. "Come on," she says, and he does, but it's another ten minutes before he tells them about what Archie said and another half an hour and three s'mores before he's calm enough for her to bring home.

That's not her last stop, though -- she's got a bone to pick now.