Chapter Two

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She wakes up to the most delicious aroma of coffee being brewed down the hall. She's usually not a morning person but with everything that's going on around her, she really can't sleep. So, she rolls out of bed, tosses on a zip-up, and heads down the hall.

"Morning, dad," she mumbles as she shuffles into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Em," he greets her with only a half smile this morning. It's not his usual perky cheer and she knows her mother's condition is slowly killing him.

So, she walks over to him with a little extra bounce in her step in hopes to cheer him up. She places her hand on his shoulder and lightly kisses his cheek while he scrambles up some eggs. She steals a mug out of the cabinet and pours herself some coffee. She wraps her hands tightly around the mug to absorb some of the heat and prays that will settle her frantic nerves.

"Is mom still in bed?"

"Yeah, this is day number three that she hasn't been out of bed," he sighs, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Well, don't you dare bring her breakfast in bed. We are getting her out of that room."

"Emma-"

"No, dad. Enough!" She snaps and storms away with her cup of coffee to their bedroom because she knows her father will just allow her to wither away in that bed. He's always been too scared of pushing her too far.

When she enters their bedroom, her mother is just pulling the sheet over her head. Most likely to block out some of the sunlight or maybe she heard that Emma was on her way to get her up. She exhales a slow and steady breath and places her mug down on the nightstand.

"Mom," she softly says but as she expects, she's greeted with nothing. She carefully crawls onto the bed, lying down next to her. She settles down on her stomach and leans on her elbows. She may even swing her feet in the air just as she has always done since she was a little girl. "Mom?" Gently, she pulls the sheet down just enough so she can see those sad eyes and knows her mother is looking at her.

Her mother's eyes are just as dull as they were yesterday but she makes sure to hold her gaze. Green eyes stare hopelessly into another set of green eyes and she wishes her mom would just say something.

"So mom, I have some news that I think you'll be excited for," she teases, scooting a little closer. "I met someone." She waits for a response but again there's nothing but silence. "Her name is Regina and get this..." more silence "she's the mayor of that town I just moved to, Storybrooke." Deafening silence. "She's so beautiful, you'll totally agree." Unbearable silence. "She has a son. His name is Henry and he's eight. Mom, he's the most adorable and sweetest little boy ever." Smothering silence. "I can't wait for you to meet them. I am already so head over heels for this woman and we just started seeing one another. I think she's...like it."

Her mother proceeds to stare at her with this blank expression that squeezes the life out of her heart. She just wants her mommy back. She leans in as close as possible, the tip of her nose brushing against her mom's, something her mother always did when she was a little girl.

"Mom, please, for me...get up," her voice trembles with thick emotions, stirring up too many old wounds that never seem to properly heal.

"I'm so sorry," Mary Margret mutters as fat tears well up in her sad eyes.

"It's okay, mom, I promise. I just really need you to get up," she pleads, hating the way her chin trembles when she needs to be strong for her mom.

Her mom squeezes her eyes tight, ultimately forcing her tears to spill down her cheeks. Emma wraps her arms around her petite body and holds her extra close while she silently cries. It isn't long before her own tears mix with her mom's, becoming one from this horrible twist of fate.

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