ataraxionlogs | open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

So then... Talk to me. As a friend. I'm still Mary Margaret. I may have been cursed, but all of that was real.

[ It sometimes feels like a distant memory of a life that belonged to someone else, but it's still hers. She remembers it, and still feels it, even when it sometimes conflicts with the person Henry's book says she's supposed to be. ]

[ Her lips press tightly together, resistant. The real problem lies in the fact that it's not just Mary Margaret. Emma struggles with talking about her problems with anyone, even friends. With Kate, it felt like pulling teeth. The fact that Mary Margaret just expects it to be easy baffles her and makes her feel guiltier for it, but that guilt only spurs Emma to try to find a way to wrestle with it, Kate's suggestions in mind. ]

It's—

[ She paces a moment, battling herself, then finally just blurts out. ]

I don't know. I keep … looking for things to be wrong. Any time someone tries to get close, I can't do anything but wait for the other shoe to drop. I don't know how to stop.

You're on the defensive. [ That was painfully obvious, wasn't it? It inspires a grimace. ] It's a learned behavior. You've had a lot of disappointment in your life. I don't blame you for having your guard up the way you do. [ Guilt is something they can both share in here. Like a fine wine, but much less pleasant. If she had just been there. ]

But you're talking about someone specific, aren't you?

No!

[ The pause speaks for itself: well, okay, yeah. But— ]

It's more than that. [ Speaking of the defensive, she rocks back on her figurative heels. With hunched shoulders, she tilts her head and reluctantly digs into the worst parts of herself. Strictly speaking, she's being honest. This isn't about anyone specific, even if it was brought on by him at the end of the day. Hook only instigated the navel-gazing. ]

I always do this. You said it yourself, I—I put up these insane walls, and it's not like I'm trying to, but look at Henry. By the time I even let my own son get close, it was almost too late. [ She doesn't want that to happen again. Doesn't want to wait too long before she lets Snow herself in, or Hook, or Kate, or Charles. Any of them. She wants to be able to get close to people: she just doesn't know where to start. ]

I never said those walls were insane. I may not be like you when it comes to this, but I had a lot of help. I was surrounded by people who supported me when I had nowhere else to go and no one left to turn to. I had to trust other people because I felt I had no other options, and that's not a good place to be.

[ She suspects Emma's already pretty aware of that, and there's an appropriate amount of sympathy in her expression to go with it. ]

The point is that you did let Henry in. You'll trust people in your own time, and that's fine. I-- [ Mary Margaret sighs and hangs her head. ] I sound like I'm contradicting myself. Obviously what I want isn't necessarily the same as what's right for you. I wish I were better at this.

[ Raising her hands, she scrubs her palms over her face, taking a deep breath. This is driving them in circles. Unfortunately, none of her issues are as simple as merely talking them out. If they were, maybe she'd have better luck. (Probably not.)

On the other hand, she also knows that her issues aren't only affecting her: her mother, Hook, even Charles and Kate are being impacted by them at this point, and while she may have a low opinion of her own worth and has no problem subjecting herself to her pile of psychological problems, she's not so sure they'll stick around for it. And she doesn't want to lose them, let alone drag them through this ringer in the first place. ]

No. No, you're—Mary Margaret, you're fine. [ She drops her hands, sighing. ] If there's one thing I've learned from Henry, it's that sometimes, there isn't a right thing to say. [ Which is to say: Mary Margaret is right. In her own time, Emma will embrace and accept these people. Rushing herself is only stressing all of them out. It won't make it any easier.

A beat later, she drops her gaze, sighing again and gesturing with her hand at her side in soft admission, ] Or a right time to say it. [ Hedging for a moment, she eventually drags her gaze up to meet Mary Margaret's. ] I wasn't—What you heard about at the jump, it wasn't how it sounded. But … I know why it got twisted that way.

[ She tilts her head to the side, teeth grinding. ] It just wasn't Erik.

Edited 2014-10-13 03:51 (UTC)

[ There's a small comfort in that. The way that Emma doesn't expect her mother to have all the right answers. Now, or maybe ever. For as much as she likes to give that sort of advice out, Snow isn't all that good at taking it herself.

But that last admission immediately causes all her attention to focus back on Emma, the introspection banished in favor of bemusement. And interest, honestly. They were friends who shared this sort of thing before the revelation that they were mother and daughter, after all. ]

Who?

[ Her weight shifts from one foot to the other, and her hands raise to rest at her hips. As if she's squaring off to battle the topic rather than easing into it. The tension in her shoulders betrays any attempt to look at ease, and she—well. She looks awkward. Before Mary Margaret, she never really had a friend to talk to about this. She has Kate now, and with her needling, it's getting easier, but she still can't dig into her feelings, wants, thoughts.

This should be easier, though. Facts. What happened, nothing more. Except that what happened will indubitably lead to more questions that she doesn't have answers for because she doesn't like the idea of casting too hard a glance inward.

Shrugging her shoulders forward, her eyes roll up and around, searching the room in an ardent effort to fix on anything that isn't her mother's face. Finally, she exhales a quick huff, steadying her gaze on something outside of her right-side peripheral. ]

Hook.

[ Defensive, and seeking some kind of approval, validation, or judgment all at once, her voice starts out flat and lilts up despite any striving to keep her tone even. Slowly, finally, her eyes flicker back to her mother, looking quite like she's just taken her lipstick to color on the walls. ]

Hook. [ Snow repeats it, because she knows she heard right, but likes to give the impression for just a moment that maybe she hadn't. Give Emma the opportunity to retract and make a correction. But that wouldn't be right either. She asked for honesty, after all. ]

Okay. You're obviously conflicted about that. He has a bit of a mottled past but... so do we. [ Banditry, piracy... Grand theft auto? Kind of similar, really. ]

[ Reaching one hand up, she pushes her hair behind her ear, shrinking before her mother. Conflicted, yes. But maybe not in the way her mother thinks. After all, all things considered— ]

I know, I know.

[ She seems to struggle to put to words, then, exactly what is conflicting her. Pressing her lips together, she turns to start to take a step out, then thinks better of it, shifting her weight and turning to the other side without ever truly pacing. Finally, she lets out a sigh. ]

And so did Neal.

[ There. That easy. "Easy." Her voice is flat, as if that says everything. She looks up, dropping her hand and looking haplessly at her mother. How does she just forget that? Neal's past hadn't been the problem either (well, it had, but not in the way one might think). Being a thief, a pirate, that didn't matter.

Moral qualms weren't really at hand here so much as paranoia. It's what Hook might do in the future that spooks her, which has nothing to do with the piracy, and everything to do with making her heart vulnerable to anyone that she honestly gives a damn about. Letting people in means giving them the chance to leave her (or worse). ]

And Neal let you down.

[ Not technically finishing Emma's sentence, but she thinks - or rather hopes - that she's caught the sentiment behind the comparison. ]

I know there's a lot of heartache there. Believe me, I understand. [ Because she dated so extensively before she met Charming? Shhh. Not her point. ] But if you close yourself off to every opportunity, you'll never find the path to your happy ending.

[ An immediate wince. The topic of the validity of happy endings is always a touchy one. She even has trouble with that one herself. ]

Or even just a good year! You... You know what I'm saying, don't you?

[ While Emma's fairly certain Hook could give her a happy ending, she sincerely doubts that it's the same kind her mother is thinking of. (Not entirely true. A tiny part of her that she thought she'd lost after she lost Neal still holds onto some sense of hope, and it's reignited by the way her chest swells where Hook is concerned. She chooses to violently disregard that sentiment.) ]

You sound like Kate.

[ Or, more accurately, Kate sounds like her. This is like the moment she realizes she married her father, except with friendship and her mom. Which is exactly the same, shut up. Sighing, Emma shakes her head. A beat. Her eyebrows raise and a wry smile pulls across her features. ]

This is killing you, isn't it?

[ That the word happy ending just entered a conversation about Emma sucking face with a pirate. Better to deflect from sorting out her own feelings on the subject and instead address how Mary Margaret is dealing with it. ]

Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one around here giving much-needed pep talks!

[ See, Emma? Snow approves of your friend! Don't you have the coolest mom? Maybe you can all hang out sometime! Maybe? ...No? ]

I just want you to be happy.

[ La la la, this isn't about me, Emma~ ]

And you think that I would be with Hook.

[ Is she asking Mary Margaret's honest opinion here or putting her on the spot for the sake of deflection? The world may never know. It's a little from column a, a little from column b. She seems somewhat reticent to accept that conclusion, at least outwardly. The possibility has, of course, occurred to her before this point. ]

I think you could be with Hook.

[ A+ mothering, throwing in a disclaimer so that if it doesn't pan out, she can't say but you said! Good job, Snow. ]

I think you'll never know if you don't try. And believe me, a missed opportunity can weigh so heavy on your heart.

[ Emma's lips part as she gears up to say something, but she falls silent in the face of Mary Margaret's last remark. A soft sort of misery strikes in her eyes, squeezing her chest. Of course she knew. They both knew what missing out on something that could have had was like. Regina and Gold had denied them so much.

And now she was ready to throw away the opportunity for something better. Was it so much better, clinging onto years of abandonment and loneliness, refusing to even consider moving forward? Taking a chance?

It seems to strike an effective cord, because Emma can only drop her gaze, turning slightly away as it really hits home. She lets the fact that she has this choice sink in, realizing it's never been up to her before. ]

We didn't miss all of it.

[ A good wrap on the Hook subject. She'll give it more thought, that much is evident, but for now, she wants to do what Emma does best: push it down. Blue eyes level up against Snow's, and she tries a faint smile. ]

[ It's not necessarily easier for Snow to smile, but relief that, this time, she seems to have said the right thing helps immensely. ]

No, and thank goodness for that.

[ Her smile fades again, and she squares up her shoulders. ] I suspect I've nagged at you enough for one day. [ She doesn't see it as nagging, but she suspects Emma might. It's easier to put the onus on herself. ] I should leave you be, let you have your space. But... you know you can always call me any time, right? For anything.

I know.

[ And judging by the look on her face, it means more to her than she knows how to say. Pulling her lips briefly between her teeth, Emma gives a quick nod and takes a step back, ready to excuse herself. ]

I—Thanks.

[ Before things can get more awkwardly emotional, she turns to leave. ]

open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm sorry i'm apparently incapable of being wholly serious in a tag rn

serious tags = overrated

this is why we are friends

no subject

no subject

no subject