[ Emma will go for the compromise; it always and never works. She still manages a smile in spite of the current topic of conversation, shaking her head at a joke that's so terribly not funny that it actually makes things a little better instead of worse.
It's his timing. He always throws one in when she's least expecting it.]
No, I wasn't raised by wolves. I was raised by the foster system. [It's a fact of life at this point. Her smile fades instantly, but that's only appropriate, right? These experiences have weighed on them. Neither of them escaped their childhood unscathed.] I had a family for a little while, when I was a baby. They sent me back when I was three to make room for their own kid - some miracle child.
[She doesn't remember the details, just names and faces, and the feeling of being wanted until suddenly she wasn't. The information's all in one neat little folder, she knows how to fill in the blanks, but knowing why doesn't make her feel any better about being discarded by people she cared about.] And then about a decade later things were going good, and I had this friend who was ... complicated, and stirred up some trouble with another family I'd gotten attached to. That was family number two.
[ There's another person who she should remember, yet the idea of a third missed opportunity doesn't trigger any memories. No name, no face, nothing for her to connect to.] After a while I realized that no one was coming for me; that no one wanted me. I stopped letting myself miss what I didn't have and started learning how to protect myself, because I knew no one else was going to do it for me.
[Graham was violent, she was a thief. She somehow doubts she gets extra credit for stealing stuff instead of threatening people. It's not much of a story if Emma stops there, so just shrugs off the memories that rush back too easily - the ones that say she still isn't enough.]
Eventually Henry showed up at my door and dragged me to Storybrooke. And then Mary Margaret gave me a place to stay, and you offered me a job. I wasn't used to people reaching out, but I didn't know how to turn away from it, either. I didn't want to go back to being on my own.
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Date: 2016-10-03 04:46 am (UTC)It's his timing. He always throws one in when she's least expecting it.]
No, I wasn't raised by wolves. I was raised by the foster system. [It's a fact of life at this point. Her smile fades instantly, but that's only appropriate, right? These experiences have weighed on them. Neither of them escaped their childhood unscathed.] I had a family for a little while, when I was a baby. They sent me back when I was three to make room for their own kid - some miracle child.
[She doesn't remember the details, just names and faces, and the feeling of being wanted until suddenly she wasn't. The information's all in one neat little folder, she knows how to fill in the blanks, but knowing why doesn't make her feel any better about being discarded by people she cared about.] And then about a decade later things were going good, and I had this friend who was ... complicated, and stirred up some trouble with another family I'd gotten attached to. That was family number two.
[ There's another person who she should remember, yet the idea of a third missed opportunity doesn't trigger any memories. No name, no face, nothing for her to connect to.] After a while I realized that no one was coming for me; that no one wanted me. I stopped letting myself miss what I didn't have and started learning how to protect myself, because I knew no one else was going to do it for me.
[Graham was violent, she was a thief. She somehow doubts she gets extra credit for stealing stuff instead of threatening people. It's not much of a story if Emma stops there, so just shrugs off the memories that rush back too easily - the ones that say she still isn't enough.]
Eventually Henry showed up at my door and dragged me to Storybrooke. And then Mary Margaret gave me a place to stay, and you offered me a job. I wasn't used to people reaching out, but I didn't know how to turn away from it, either. I didn't want to go back to being on my own.