So Does This Make Us Both The Other Woman?

19. A War Is Waged (A War Is Won, A War Is Lost. White Flags Are Waved)

She's reclining on her chaise with a novel while Roland arranges himself on the floor with a pile of books, flipping through each one and stumbling through some of the more familiar words that he's learning to read. Robin's out for the afternoon, off on some trip deep in the woods to investigate those hauntings that Emma keeps talking about, and she's enjoying the lack of pressure to do anything more than just...be.

She's not unhappy. She's not stifled. She's just living with a spectre hovering over her, a haunting there's no need to exorcise, the demons of her past stronger than ever. The road to happiness isn't supposed to be easy.

She hadn't thought it would be quite this stressful either, though.

Her phone buzzes and she glances down at the photo that pops up on the screen, smirking to herself. It's Emma, soaked in something brown and filthy-looking, her hair matted and covered in twigs and leaves. ghost got me! the next text reads. Am I still invited for dinner?

She rolls her eyes and types back, Go take a shower, Sheriff. But her eyes are roaming down Emma's wet tank top, watching the way it sticks to her chest and how the muddy grey dips down into a triangle along her chest. Emma's eyes are sheepish but with laughter within them, a mirror of Henry at four with mud on his clothes and a beaming smile on his face. She doesn't know how Emma can do this, can awaken sharp desire and overpowering affection all at once, but her heart soars all the same and she has to swallow back her own smile.

The response comes from Snow's cell phone. I tried teleporting myself home and left my phone behind. A pause, and then a second text. also all my clothes. Mm keeps covering Leo's eyes. want another selfie? There's an emoji following the message, a chick half-hatched in an egg, and after it another one that she has to squint at before she realizes that it's a tub with a tiny person in it.

She smirks and types out, Go ahead, impress me. before she hastily deletes it and writes, If you send me photo evidence of Snow traumatized, you're getting extra cheesecake tonight. It's oddly domestic in the ways she's not supposed to think about, talking about dinner plans and texting during the day, and she spends more time thinking about Emma in the shower than she does focusing on her novel for the next dozen pages.

Henry wanders in and then wanders out. Roland has finished all his books and is peering through her drawers, trying on her bracelets and attempting to poke holes into his ears to get her earrings on. Emma texts back a photo of Snow with a very false look of horror on her face and promptly admits that she'd promised her mother some cheesecake if she recreated the scene. No deals with the devil, dear, she admonishes, and Emma writes back and Roland is standing on her chair with a shiny pin attached to his chest announcing, "I am Iron Man!" and today is a very, very good day.

She returns to her novel and skims the pages she hadn't paid attention to, keeping an eye on Roland as he carefully puts back the pin and pulls out a covered box she keeps in the back of her drawer. "What's this?" he asks, and she realizes a moment too late what's about to happen.

Her heart stops and she says, "Roland, don't–" but he's already pulling out a necklace- the one she'd hidden in the drawer just days before after she'd finally decided to stop clinging to the past and push forward into the future- and looking curiously at the ring at the end of it.

"It's pretty," he says, and she can see him saying it- a little boy who just wants to pretend he's Iron Man and knows nothing of the darkness that rushes to the forefront at the sight of him pulling the necklace over his head. And the image wavers and shifts and she chokes as an old image returns with a vengeance.

"Daniel gave it to me. He was killed." Reaching out and yanking on the chain, pulling closer and closer to Snow's neck until the girl is screaming and she can hear Snow choking for breath, can feel the rage at being lost inside castle walls and never knowing anything more. Can feel her horror at the not-quite-displeasure that swims through her at the image.