InsaneJournal

Who: Emma and Aislinn (Open to anyone in Casa de Storybrooke, but it stands as a narrative)
What: Middle of the night ponderings, mostly just some feels and fluff
When: Late Tuesday night into Wednesday morning
Where: Aislinn's nursery



Emma had never been a sound sleeper. Her childhood hadn't exactly made it safe to be one. Falling asleep around the wrong people could be dangerous. Bullies picked on you, the more cruel kids would beat you up, and that was to say nothing for what some of the adults might do. So she learned at a young age to sleep carefully, always ready to spring awake if needed. It had eased up over time, but Lawrence had brought it back with a vengeance. First just the general feeling of displacement, then the distrust that life with Jim had given her, and then finally, having Henry. He was ten, hardly a baby, but who knew when he might need her? Or worse, if something happened to him, she'd need to be ready.

So the baby monitor by her bed was practically like a fire alarm for how quickly she'd wake when she heard her daughter's cries. In a typically Emma fashion, she'd practically arranged it when she'd first moved in with Zee that Henry and the baby would both have rooms closest to hers. Not so much as a consideration to others, because at the time it had only been her, Henry and Eddie living with Zee. No, she wanted to be as capable of taking care of her children as possible. The quicker she could get to them, the safer she felt. So she could easily throw a sweatshirt on top of her tank top and make her way to the next room over before anyone in the house could be too badly disturbed.

She entered the room quietly, but she couldn't help the bright grin that filled her face as she looked at the tiny baby. Even if the baby was wrinkle faced and angry at whatever it was that had pulled her from her sleep. "Hi there, beautiful," Emma murmured, the sweetly gentle tone coming as a surprise to even her. If having Henry around had changed her drastically, having Aislinn had turned her into an entirely different person. Henry was proof enough that she loved being a mother. It had taken time to adjust, but she couldn't deny how deeply in love she'd fallen with her little boy. Hers and Neal's. She'd been so angry for so long, and Henry had helped to heal that.

And she'd be lying if she said that Aislinn hadn't helped so much of the hurt in her life that had been caused by her father. Oh, Emma was willing to accept responsibility. He hadn't done anything to force her to do anything. She knew she'd made her choices on her own and she'd be paying for them forever in many ways. But if anything good had come out of it, it was this baby. This beautiful child who looked so much like her big brother had before they'd taken him away and given him to that horrible woman.

She picked the baby up, cradling her in her arms and murmuring soft little nothings as she set about their usual three in the morning routine. Changing her, bundling her back up in a soft warm blanket, and finally settling in a rocker in the corner of the nursery to feed her. If asked, she wouldn't even be able to tell anyone what she'd been saying to the baby. Silly little stories about a princess (named Aislinn, most certainly) and a prince (obviously named Henry) who set off on adventures to save their kingdom. None of that waiting around for someone to save Princess Aislinn, not at all.

Looking down, she studied her daughter's features as she talked. The button nose, the heart shaped mouth, rounded little cheeks. It didn't really surprise her that she and Henry looked alike. If she thought about it, which she so desperately tried not to, Neal and Jim looked surprisingly alike, too. If Neal had been more polished and put together, or if Jim hadn't risen above the Dublin street kid... Well. Nothing she really wanted to think about. Clearly she had a type, was all. Though that show, that stupid show that she couldn't seem to make herself give up, had shown her that it wasn't Neal who'd hurt her after all, and what did that say for the last ten years?

All of it, everything from her arrest and Henry's birth to the last several months in Lawrence, Kansas had led up to this moment. Did she have regrets? Of course she did, she was only human. Would she take any of it back? No, not really. Looking down into her baby girl's pretty blue eyes, she knew every single decision she'd made had brought her to this point. If she hadn't become the cold, cynical woman she'd been, she wouldn't have been a challenge for Jim. If he hadn't pursued, she would've easily let him fall to the side. And for all the hell loving him had brought her, it had also given her this. A baby of her own, one no one could take from her. Because she'd fight like hell to make sure it stayed that way.

She had a family now. All the hurt, the anger, the fear. She'd worked so hard to put up those walls and yet they'd been knocked down, and rather spectacularly. The fact that the house was so full, despite it's vast size, said a lot for that. People she loved and cared about, some who she was still getting to know but already worried over. Her own flesh and blood in the form of the mother who'd lost her as a baby and the two children who'd quickly come to mean everything to her.

"You're a very special little girl, you know," she told Aislinn, as the baby finished her dinner. She lifted her to her shoulder, gently rubbing her back rather than that basically irritating thumping some mothers did. Pulling herself to her feet, she grabbed a burp cloth from the changing table before they had a repeat of an incident that had played out at least three times since bringing her baby girl home. "You have a whole lot of people who love you already, and you just got here. So did I, but I didn't know that. You will. I'll make sure of it. Nothing's going to take you from me. Mom and I are both going to get to take care of you, and all the other people who love you."

Sometimes she wondered how much she'd tell Aislinn and when. Her own history, the crossing from the fairy tale world to Maine, life in Boston, Portland, Nashville, Tallahassee, New York, and finally Boston again. And Aislinn's history. If she'd thought telling Henry the truth about his father would be difficult, what was she supposed to tell her daughter? And the people of Storybrooke hadn't known Neal and how badly he'd hurt her. Lawrence knew Jim Moriarty. No one who'd encountered him would ever forget him. She could hide it forever but how long before someone else spilled all the sordid details?

Sighing, she bounced her daughter gently, smiling as she gave a rather impressive little burp. "Your grandfather would be so proud," she teased, kissing the top of the baby's head. If only he'd ever get to meet her. Emma wasn't stupid, she knew her mother missed her father desperately. After all, being the child conceived of true love meant there was true love to be had. Maybe if James were here, he'd be able to talk some sense into Snow regarding the crazy befriending of Regina. Maybe.

She should've put the baby back in her cradle and let her sleep, but she was gripped with that feeling she sometimes got. That fear that if she did, she wouldn't see her again. Maybe it came from her own horrible past, maybe it came from the tightening in her chest every time she thought about them taking Henry from her, or maybe it was paranoia stemmed from the events of Lawrence. But rather than put the baby back down, she simply kept holding her, making little circles around the room and humming softly.

For all the hell in her life, things seemed to finally be clicking into place.