Reawakened: A Once Upon a Time Tale

by Odette Beane

  She went to him, took him by the arm, and walked him over to the vending machines.

  “You should have told me,” she said. “About the baby. She’s not a piece of merchandise and this whole thing stinks to high hell.”

  “Ah!” Gold said, delighted. “It’s a girl, then?”

  “She’s keeping her. You don’t get to choose. She chooses.”

  “But she already chose, Ms. Swan,” Gold said. “Months ago. We have a contract.”

  “Then go home and tear it up,” Emma said, “because it means nothing. Not anymore.”

  They stared each other down for another moment. The tension broke when Mr. Gold bowed his head, an admiring twinkle in his eyes. “Very well, Ms. Swan. I’ll let her off the hook. But no debt goes unpaid. You’ll have to give me something in return.”

  “How about a bag of dirty laundry?” she said. “I’ve got one back at the apartment.”

  “You owe me a favor. One favor,” he said, holding up a finger. “Simple. You like simple, don’t you?”

  She didn’t like it, but she’d do it.

  “Okay,” Emma said. She held out a hand. “Deal.”

  Together, Emma and Henry drove across town—drove past the diner, where Emma glimpsed Ruby flirting with Billy, the kid with the tow truck. Emma had Henry home by 4:45, time to spare, and she was back at Mary Margaret’s ten minutes later, unsure of what to make of the day. What she did know: She wasn’t going anywhere. She called up Sheriff Graham and told him if the offer still stood, she’d take him up on the job.

  “Protect and serve,” Emma said, looking at the clock tower. “I’m kinda good at that.”

  “You certainly seem to be,” Graham said. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Emma.”

  CHAPTER 5

  THE SHEPHERD

  Emma was finally settling into Storybrooke. She always liked the feeling of a new town, especially in the early days, when life itself seemed new again and the past hadn’t yet found her. It never lasted. But the honeymoon period was enlivening, electric. It was her favorite feeling.

  That Storybrooke was different, a place literally populated by her past in the form of her son, made Emma very aware that she had entered a new chapter of her life now, and that the next steps wouldn’t be the same as before. This scared her. She had only ever had to take care of herself.

  But for now, she felt okay. Something that had always been out of whack seemed to have corrected itself in her heart.

  Graham showed her the ropes of simple police work, joking (or was it flirting?) with her as he made her aware of all the nooks and crannies of Storybrooke, telling her about the longstanding feuds between various residents.

  But she still didn’t know what to think of Henry’s belief in the curse. He talked about it nonstop, and she was still playing along. Whenever he began to discuss it—to tell her, for example, that the reason Marco and Archie were close friends was that Marco was Geppetto, and Archie (“Jiminy!”) had always been his friend, conscience, and companion—she nodded agreeably and thought: What are you doing, Swan?

  Mary Margaret was another story, and a story that was a little more recognizable. She’d fallen for David Nolan, a married man she didn’t even know. Not good. Not good for a whole slew of reasons. She talked about him too much and spent more time at the hospital than she should. He encouraged her visits and asked her to stay late on many occasions. He had even told her that he felt a special connection with her, that he felt like he knew her more than he knew his wife. She’d come home that evening and abruptly told Emma she’d resigned from the volunteer staff, that she “couldn’t go there anymore,” which made Emma think that her friend was self-aware enough to make the wise choice. But Emma had seen love and felt love, and she knew what it could do to a person. Her new roommate, who at first had seemed so even-keeled, was coming apart at the seams.

  Emma didn’t press too hard, hoping it would fade. Not just for Mary Margaret’s sake, but for Henry’s as well. To him, as he told her again and again, it made complete sense that the two were drawn to each other. It was only a matter of time before the natural order was restored. Prince Charming and Snow White together, their daughter Emma grown and present, the grandson Henry smiling up at all of them, the whole family stable and solid and united.

  When Emma thought about it like this—in terms of the perfect family tree Henry had constructed for himself—his fantasy life went from seeming innocent to seeming dangerous. Something that could end up hurting him far worse than he’d already been hurt.

  • • •

  Emma took Henry to David’s “Welcome Home” party, and on the way, Henry—who had noticed when Mary Margaret muttered to Emma, “I can’t go, I shouldn’t go”—explained to his mother how Prince Charming had ended up betrothed to the woman Abigail. Not that Emma asked.

  “He didn’t really love her!” Henry told Emma. “That’s the thing. He got stuck in this huge thing with King Midas, her father, and he had to agree to marry her even though he believed in true love.”

  “He had to agree?” Emma asked. “Why?”

  “Because he was a fake Prince Charming anyway.” Henry nodded to himself, as though all of this made perfect sense.

  “What’s a fake Prince Charming?”

  “Okay. I’ll explain it. It’s not that complicated,” Henry said. “A long time before Snow and Charming met, this other king, King George, couldn’t get an heir and called up Rumplestiltskin and was like, ‘Hey, Rumplestiltskin, I need a baby, can you bring me one?’ ”

  Emma smiled at her son’s retelling of the tale.

  “Rumplestiltskin trafficked in babies?”

  “Yes,” said Henry. “For a price.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And so Rumplestiltskin took one boy from this family of shepherds and made a deal and gave the baby to King George, and that was who grew up to be Prince Charming.”

  Emma tried her best to listen as Henry told a convoluted tale of twins, false identities, and dragon slaying, but her mind drifted to Mary Margaret, and to the very real David Nolan, who was clearly having a difficult time readjusting to his married life with Kathryn. The whole story was strange, and Emma still suspected that Regina had fabricated something here, although she didn’t know what, or why she would do such a thing.

  When they arrived at the party, David drifted over to them.

  When he came up and smiled, Emma could tell that he was uncomfortable here, surrounded by his old “friends,” who he didn’t recognize. He knew Emma because she’d been there at the hospital and she’d helped to find him.

  He greeted her and Henry and took their coats. Kathryn came and said hello, but she dashed off toward the kitchen right away.

  “You look like a lost man,” Emma said. “Come on. Hide over here with us. We don’t bite.”

  David smiled, obviously relieved, and the three of them went to the corner of the room. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Emma said.

  He seemed to grow nervous then, and Emma tried to give him a “spit it out” look.

  “And I’m sorry, I know that—I know that you live with Mary Margaret. I was wondering if you knew when she would be here.”

  Ah, Emma thought.

  Emma crossed her arms, smiled a curt smile. “Yeah. She can’t come” was all she said. “I’m sorry.”

  David continued to watch her, looking for a signal as to what that might mean. Emma felt no need to elaborate.

  “She was busy, huh?” David said.

  “No, she’s not!” Henry said, smiling. “She’s at home, hanging birdhouses. You should go talk to her. Because of your eternal love.”

  “Henry,” Emma said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s his party, he can’t go anywhere.” She turned to David. “Besides,” she said, “she’s not feeling well. It’s really for the best.”

  “Yes,” David said. “Probably for the best.”

 
; • • •

  Mary Margaret was standing at the top of a stepladder when she heard someone say her name.

  Startled, she nearly fell from the ladder, but she caught herself by reaching for the tree trunk in front of her. She twisted to see him.

  “Oh, David,” she said, feeling a sudden and inexplicable sadness, looking into his eyes. Seeing his face was like looking directly into an unsolvable problem. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “There was no one at the party I wanted to see,” he said.

  She climbed down the ladder and crossed the yard.

  “You’re married,” she said, once she’d gotten to him. “We can’t do this. It’s—it doesn’t make any sense.” She nearly laughed at this last word, but he didn’t seem to find it funny. But it was the truth. More than anything, she just didn’t understand any of it. Including her own feelings.

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said, taking her hands. She resisted, but he held them. “Look, listen to me. I know, I get it. I was in a coma, I had this whole other life, but you—There’s just something, Mary Margaret. We both feel it. I don’t know what kind of person I used to be, but I know who I am right now. I’m a person who trusts his heart. And my heart’s telling me that my authentic life, that my real life, is somehow over here. Not back there.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt herself smiling a worried little smile.

  Then she pulled her hands away.

  “I think it’s simpler, David,” she said. “I think it’s just that I happened to save you. That’s all. The feeling will go away.”

  She turned and retreated to her back door.

  • • •

  Emma came home to find Mary Margaret abusing the kitchen with a scrub pad and pulled her away to calm down, talk it through, and have a drink. Mary Margaret obliged and told her about David’s visit to the yard. She admitted that she’d been tempted, that she felt something as well.

  “He’s married,” Emma cautioned. “His life is a mess. It’s not the right time, Mary Margaret. You can’t get involved.”

  “I know that,” she said quietly. “So I told him to go.”

  “That’s good,” Emma said. “It might not feel good now, but that’s good. I think you know deep down that something isn’t right, that your conscience doesn’t like it. Trust that. Trust yourself.”

  • • •

  Mary Margaret did not sleep well and dreamt of the toll bridge, where they’d found David, dreamt of him facedown in the water. Over and over again, she saw him rolling upright, saw herself placing her lips on his lips. When she awoke, it was light and she heard birds cheeping outside. She felt unrested and considered calling in sick. Instead she pulled herself from her bed, got dressed, and went to the diner.

  She soon wished she hadn’t. She ran into Dr. Whale at the door.

  He really was an unlikable man—she’d always thought it. Handsome enough, sure, but obviously smug. And smarmy, too. The kind of person you wouldn’t want your daughter dating.

  His eyes lit up and locked with hers before she could brush by him and go to a table. He touched her arm, which she pulled away. “Mary Margaret,” he said, sounding contrite. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I hope your resignation from the volunteer staff didn’t have anything to do with our date.”

  His narcissism came close to making her laugh, but she kept a straight face.

  “It’s very boorish of me not to have called you, I know,” he said. “I apologize. If you’d ever like to go out again, you have my number.” He left the diner, oblivious to her very different interpretation of the night in question.

  She couldn’t quite laugh it off, though. When she was alone in a booth with her hot chocolate, Mary Margaret’s mood sank down a few more notches as she wondered what life in this town really held for her. How had she gotten to where she was? It was as if her whole history weren’t quite real, even though she was always the first to take responsibility for her actions, for her choices….

  “Hello, Ms. Blanchard.”

  Mary Margaret looked up and was surprised to see Regina standing at her table.

  “May I join you for a moment?” Regina asked. “This really won’t take very long.” She slid in across from Mary Margaret. “It’s about my friend. Kathryn.”

  Regina let this sink in.

  Mary Margaret, for her part, tried not to reveal anything. But she knew what was coming, and quietly braced herself.

  “I didn’t know Mrs. Nolan was your friend,” she said.

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s never wise to put ‘home wrecker’ on your résumé, Mary Margaret,” Regina said. “Especially in a small town. Things can get very uncomfortable, very quickly.”

  Eyes wide, Mary Margaret could think of nothing to say.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Miss Blanchard,” Regina said. “David left his wife last night. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “No,” she said. “I wouldn’t.”

  And she thought: He left her?

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Regina said. “Kathryn is devastated. You and I both know he is a confused man who hasn’t yet remembered who he is. Why don’t you do everyone a favor, go back to your mousy little existence, and give a healing couple the space they deserve?”

  Not waiting for a response, Regina slid from the booth, straightened her power suit, and strode out of the diner, heels clicking the whole way.

  • • •

  But there was no sign of him. Peace and quiet. Nothing happened. Mary Margaret began to believe it was all finally fading, and that life would move forward, back to normal.

  Then on a Wednesday morning, halfway through the day, she looked through the window beside her classroom’s door.

  David was outside her classroom, peering in at her, waving for her to come outside.

  Her students were all reading silently, and she sighed, stood from her desk, and walked out of the room.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered, not bothering to conceal her anger. “You can’t just come here.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “I left Kathryn. I didn’t choose her. I think we should be together.” He spoke directly, deliberately. Mary Margaret was taken aback by his frankness. How had so much happened in so short a time?

  “This is crazy,” she said. “You have to go.”

  “Is it crazy?” he asked. “Don’t you feel it as well? Answer me that.”

  Mary Margaret could only look back at him.

  “Listen,” he said. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just meet me tonight. Near the bridge where you found me. If you think this can work, meet me there at nine o’clock. I’ll be waiting.” David smiled. “If you meet me, we’ll just go from there.”

  Mary Margaret said, “Go.”

  “Meet me tonight.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Just think about it,” David said. “Just think. That’s all I ask.”

  • • •

  Against her better judgment, she did think about it. She thought about it that whole day, during class, and she thought about it as she walked from the school to the police station. She asked Emma for her advice, and Emma surprised her by telling her she should go to meet David. It was one thing for him to show up outside of her house; it was another thing entirely to leave Kathryn. That made all the difference, apparently. Emma said he had made a choice; he was committed. Maybe it was time for her to make a choice as well.

  “None of it feels based on anything,” Mary Margaret said.

  “Yeah, but love never makes sense,” Emma responded. “It’s never based on something. Not on something you can see right away, at least.”

  “What, then?”

  “Don’t you think,” Emma said, “that hearts can kind of see truth? A little better than eyes?”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” said Mary Margaret.

  “Who said there
wasn’t a romantic in me?” Emma said. “Somewhere. Deep down.”

  “Not me.”

  Mary Margaret was surprised by her friend’s advice, but in her heart she knew that she wanted to go, she wanted to choose David. She didn’t understand how they’d gotten here quite as fast as they had, but she didn’t care.

  • • •

  The mayor had a meeting that night, and Henry took the opportunity to sneak out and come to Emma and Mary Margaret’s apartment.

  At the door, Emma took one look at him and said, “You can’t keep doing this.”

  “She’s out,” he said. “She won’t be home until like ten!”

  Emma begrudgingly let him in, knowing that she was close to helpless against him when he got that excited about things. It was only eight o’clock, after all, and Mary Margaret had come in, changed her clothes, spilled her guts, and hurried out an hour ago.

  “So,” Emma said, sitting down across from Henry at the table. “What should we do?”

  “You didn’t let me tell you the end of the story,” Henry said. “About Prince Charming.”

  “That’s right, I didn’t.”

  “I know you think it’s stupid, but it’s important,” Henry said. “I saw the way he looked when he was asking about her. And it’s natural!”

  “Why is that?” Emma said.

  “Because of the ring,” Henry said.

  “Explain.”

  “After Charming agreed to stay as Prince Charming, he had to go and say good-bye to his mother for the last time. She knew he was being forced to marry Abigail, and that he believed in true love, so it was his mom who gave him that ring. When she gave it to him, she told him that love always would follow the ring.”

  “Cute,” Emma said. “He and Snow White fell in love trying to get the ring back.”

  “Right!” Henry exclaimed. “So it turned out that love did always follow it.”

  “Kind of,” Emma said. “I guess so.” She did always like that about fairy tales, the way prophecies would end up coming true, but in a way no one ever expected.