Author's Note: Well folks, this is not the story I began. That doesn't mean I'm not pleased. My original story sent Emma through the Wardrobe at four, alone but armed with memories of home, parents, and the knowledge of being loved. I wondered how much memory a small child could retain, without the assistance of photographs and people that could tell her about her family. I also intended that Emma would break the curse at the intended age. I may still write that story. At this time I found I was not ready to do that to Emma. I needed to give her, her childhood back. In the end, this story was always going to be about the reunification of the family. As I neared, then passed that, I started thinking about the aftereffects of fracturing the curse. I realized that I have several possibilities in curse- breaking, especially after some discussion on the TWoP forum. I need to map that out and decide, before I begin the next part of this story. Without cohesiveness and cogency, the purposefulness of the story is diminished. Long story short, this is the end for now. There's another story I have had on the backburner for a year, so I want to finish that before revisiting this one. Thanks again for the awesome reviews and for those who chose to follow the story.

Ch. 10: The Beginning

It had been a week since her Papa had been awakened. The day after, Emma and her mother had sent a postcard to Pinocchio by carrier pigeon. It gave him the coordinates to the town and a simple message. Come home. If Emma's calculations were correct, and the detention center competent, Pinocchio would arrive in Storybrooke in a week or less. Emma couldn't wait to see her old friend.

To Emma and Snow's delight, David had 'discovered' two part-time jobs. One was at the Storybrooke Animal Shelter. The other was as a teaching assistant at Storybrooke Elementary. To Snow's consternation, he had also ended up with a wife. It wasn't her.

"What?!" Snow whispered, her voice hissing dangerously.

David smiled weakly, looking around the playground as the children around them played raucously. "I know you heard me, darling. Must you express your incredulity so decisively?"

Snow looked around shiftily, gaze lighting on Emma who was decorating another little girl with flowers. A smile broke her solemn mien and she sighed a little. "Okay. I'm listening."

David shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you remember Abigail…" he trailed off when he saw Snow's expression. "You like Abigail. She's been a good friend to us!" he exclaimed.

Snow pulled impatiently on her sweater, pulling it around her protectively. "I know she's a friend of ours, and I do like her. I just don't want her…she just…I mean, she almost married you once!"

David brushed her hand with his thumb, wishing he could hold it, give her reassurance. "I know. But, she became our friend. She was absolutely essential to our defeat of King George."

"I know," Snow was proud that her voice betrayed no sulkiness. She felt sulky.

David longed to kiss away her frown, a little pleased by her jealousy. "If it helps, I think she feels as awkward as I do, and she supposedly has memories of us."

Snow breathed deeply. She did like Abigail. She was a strong woman, and once you got past the hard exterior, she was both warm and quite amusing. Unfortunately… "Kathryn isn't Abigail, David. I'm friends with Abigail, and I trust Abigail. I don't know Kathryn."

"She's kind," David fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. "She really does seem to care about me." He didn't mention the scene at Echo Glen where Abigail…Kathryn had clung to him, tears of joy in her eyes, while Regina had looked on and smirked. It had made him furious, that Regina manipulated a good friend of his into a marriage that she would have despised as much as he did. It was a marriage that echoed a terrible time in both of their lives. He had only been able to put his arms around her shaking shoulders when he thought of his wife and daughter.

Snow looked at him, knowing there was more to the story. She bit her lip and spoke softly. "It's a terrible thing for her too. You haven't met him yet, but Frederick is the P.E. teacher at the school. He's not the same at all. He's an arrogant, misogynistic bastard whose not above making the children cry if he doesn't think they're working hard enough." Her hands clenched as she remembered coming to pick up her class one day and finding one of her chubby little fourth graders in tears of shame. He hadn't been able to do pull-ups, she remembered, and Jim had apparently humiliated him for it in front of the entire class. Mary Margaret had been angry, but too intimidated to say anything.

David saw the shadows cross her face, and tried to move closer.

"David," her voice was low but definite.

He backed off immediately, his eyes scanning the playground and beyond. "I know," he murmured, voice tinged with frustration.

Snow breathed quietly, raising her eyes to meet his. "We have so much to do. Rumpelstiltskin said Emma would break the curse when she turned twenty-eight, but it feels…it feels like it could be sooner."

David nodded. "I know. I've been wondering if he made a mistake. That could be possible. He's not infallible," his tone was slightly questioning.

Snow shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know. It's not like we can ask him. But we know that Emma broke the curse for us. That means it could be broken for others."

David's eyes fell again on his daughter, as they had every few minutes since recess had begun. He smiled easily. "She's amazing."

Snow grinned indulgently. When their daughter was around their eyes followed her like iron filings to a magnet.

"Is she still sleeping with you at night?" his voice was filled with longing.

She nodded. She had shared every scrap of information with him, more than once, knowing his hunger for hearing about their daughter was as insatiable as her own. Five years was too long to be without your child.

He smiled, "I'm so glad. It must bring you comfort when you wake, knowing it isn't all a dream."

Snow smiled sadly at him. He had shared this fear with her earlier. His sleep was often broken and waking brought him little comfort. "Emma and I made something for you." She had been waiting for this opportunity. She drew a bracelet out of her pocket. It was a simple leather band, entwined with their tightly braided hair.

David tenderly stroked the bracelet, his eyes filling.

Snow's gaze was as intimate as an embrace. "To keep the nightmares away," she murmured.

Pinocchio arrived without fanfare. Four days after Snow had gifted her husband with the bracelet, Emma and her mother were playing a lethal game of cards. Mary Margaret had been isolated from her peers and even casual acquaintances. Most of the card playing she practiced was Solitaire. But Snow was shrewd and a quick learner. It didn't take long for her to give Emma real competition. Snow had also found that playing games with Emma often distracted her enough that she wouldn't censor herself when speaking of her life in this world. Snow knew that Emma was trying to spare her, but that was unacceptable. She was the mother. It was her job to protect her daughter.

The quiet knock made both of them pause, mid-giggle as Emma demolished her mother in a particularly elegantly played game of Go Fish. Emma immediately ran soundlessly to hide under Snow's bed. They had been very careful to keep all evidence of Emma's habitation hidden.

Snow walked sedately to the door to open it. The startled blue eyes of a formerly wooden boy met hers for a moment, then he sank into a formal bow. "Your Majesty," he said.

She looked at him, somewhat taken aback at his transformation. He had been a skinny eleven year old before the curse. She had know he would be sixteen, but her inner visual had not conjured the near-man before her. "Pinocchio," she reached out to embrace him, and pull him into the apartment, closing the door with her foot.

She felt him duck shyly at her shoulder. He was taller then she, but his cheek briefly brushed hers. "Thank you," she murmured.

Emma's whispered shriek of delight broke their embrace. "Pinocchio!"

Pinocchio looked up, a brilliant smile breaking over his face. "Em!"

Emma ran to him and threw herself into his arms. She giggled as he held her, spun her in a tight circle, then released her. "I missed you so much!" she said, eyes tracking urgently over his body. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Liar," she scowled at him. "I know when you're lying."

"It wasn't great," he admitted. "It was hard being locked up. But they let me read and some of the C.O.s were really nice to me," he looked at her seriously. "The best part was knowing you were out here. Free and looking for our families."

Emma leaned forward to give him another squeeze. "I was worried."

"You did it thought Emma. You found them."

Emma nodded, looking up at her mother, a smile breaking through. "Yeah."

"I want to hear about everything," Pinocchio looked eagerly at Emma. "But first…" his gaze switched to Snow, imploring, "May I see my Papa?"

Snow's gaze was kind and she rubbed her hand reassuringly across his arm. "Of course you can see him. But I don't know that the curse will fracture the way it did for David and I." She knew it wouldn't actually, but didn't want to be so blunt.

The eagerness in his eyes died and little, but he nodded firmly. "I would still like to see him. I just want to see that he's okay."

Snow's lips compressed and she choked back her initial reaction. Gepetto wasn't okay. He was cursed. He wasn't maimed or torturously wounded, but he wasn't okay. She offered a thin-lipped smile instead. "Of course," she said.

Emma's little hands knotted themselves in her shirt and she looked between her friend and her mother. "So we're going to see Gepetto?"

Snow kissed her daughter's head, and reached up to touch Pinocchio's cheek, "we're going to see Gepetto."

Marco was not well known to Mary Margaret. He did not have a child in the school, and they were not friends. He had, however, repaired a chair of hers that had become damaged. She knew he did some of his work at home. Since it was evening, they figured this was most likely where he would be.

Hidden behind another house, they watched as Marco industriously bent over a wooden clock, hand hidden within it's recesses.

Emma looked at her friend worriedly. She knew that Pinocchio would be hurt when his father didn't recognize him, but she knew his desperation to see his father was strong. She had talked to him – oh so many nights – about what it would be like when they saw their parents. What they would do, what they would say. She couldn't deny him this, no matter the bitter sweetness of the reunion.

Pinocchio looked on eagerly. "I remember that clock! It was one of the last projects Papa and I worked on."

Marco tugged on something in an irritated fashion, mumbling in Italian.

Pinocchio frowned. "He's doing it wrong. He's going to break the gears if he keeps pulling like that."

Snow looked around, noting the absence of people. She shoved Pinocchio in the small of his back. "Go help him then."

Pinocchio balked, looking at her with wide eyes - looking much younger than his sixteen years. "But what if he…what if I…we could…?" he stumbled over his words desperately.

Snow gently but firmly took his chin in her hand. "Go see your Papa," she commanded tenderly.

Pinocchio's smile was small and he took a deep breath. The fear immobilizing his body was only overcome by the longing in his heart. He stepped out of the darkness.

Emma and Snow observed Pinocchio's faltering conversation with Marco. Snow noticed his hurt as he absorbed the ignorance in his fathers' eyes. Her heart ached, remembering the same look on her daughter's face when Mary-Margaret…when she had met her at the door with utter indifference. She stroked her daughter's head, trying to convey her overwhelming love.

Emma tilted her head and smiled, looking obliquely at her mother. She reached out for her hand and clasped it firmly.

They watched the woodcarver and his son. "Look Mama," whispered Emma, pointing with one, small finger.

Marco handed Pinocchio a pair of gloves and a small pointed tool. The smile that lit the boy's face chased away his earlier melancholy expression. Marco's answering grin was tentative, but had a touch of wonderment. Snow knew he felt drawn to the boy, without knowing why. She smiled. The pull of parent and child was strong. It might not be immune from the curse, but emptiness had a way of trying to fill the vacuum.

"I guess Pinocchio will be busy for a little while," Emma said.

"I think you're right."

Trying to get both children to bed that night was a chore. Pinocchio had replayed his conversation with Marco nearly verbatim. Then he told them in detail how they had rebuilt the clock. After that he peppered them with questions about plans to break the curse. Emma matched him word for word, winding her up as thoroughly as a gallon of sugared beverages.

Snow groaned as she looked at the clock. "You both need to get to bed. It's nearly midnight! And you've been travelling all day Pinocchio."

Pinocchio gave her a guilty look and began to stand. Emma pulled him back down. "But Mama, we're making battle plans. This is important!"

"So is sleep," sighed Snow. She picked up her truculent daughter. "Time for bed."

Emma struggled a little, but was interrupted by a mighty yawn. Snow dumped her onto their bed, and pointed upstairs to Pinocchio, along with a meaningful look. "Bed."

Pinocchio nodded and scrambled up the stairs. His voice floated to them. "Night Em. Goodnight, Your Majesty."

"Goodnight Pinocchio," Snow replied.

Emma mumbled something that sounded like 'goodnight' as she buried her face into her pillow.

Snow glided over to the bed to fix the pillow and smooth out the covers. She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Goodnight, baby."

She crept out the window to the fire escape landing, hesitating a little before warbling out a short bird call. She scribbled out a short note while she waited.

After another call, a mottled gray and white dove appeared. He whistled in what seemed a reproachful manner.

"I know, it's late for you too. But this is important." She tied the note expertly around his leg. "Take this to David. Tap at the window, if you must. He will hear you."

The dove chirped a reply.

"Yes. Thank you." Snow stroked it's smooth back before it flew away. She watched the bird until it disappeared, then was left gazing at the unfamiliarity of the familiar stars.

When David met the little group at the Troll Bridge the next evening, he looked like he had had as little sleep as Snow. After hugging his daughter and wife, he turned to Pinocchio.

As he did yesterday, Pinocchio bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

David reached out to grasp the boy's hand firmly, laying his other hand on top of them both. "Thank you, Pinocchio." He said no more than that. The look in his eyes, as he contemplated his daughter, told him exactly the depth of his gratitude.

Pinocchio ducked his head. His childish awe of his King had not diminished, although he realized now that they were only a little over a decade apart in age. "Your welcome. We looked after each other," he admitted honestly.

The king looked at him, a small smile quirking his lips as his eyes glanced over at his wife. "As it should be."

David moved closer to his girls and looked over the little band. "I've recruited another ally to our cause," he said with a small smile.

"Who?" asked Emma with excitement.

David whistled softly. A Dalmatian came bounding out of the forest, tongue lolling happily from his mouth.

"Pongo!" shrieked Emma with delight. She got down on her knees in front of the dog, narrowly missing being licked on the face.

Pinocchio knelt beside her, patting the black and white dog enthusiastically.

"Where did you find him?" asked Snow.

"A couple of hikers found him at the edge of a ravine. He was kind of beat-up, lots of burrs in his coat. He looked he hadn't eaten in ages." He lowered his voice, eyes falling on the children. "I wanted to make sure he'd make it, before I showed him to Emma."

Snow squeezed his hand, smiling at Emma's glee.

"I'm so glad you found him. I wonder where he's been?"

"I don't know. Andrew was keeping the dogs kenneled. He was afraid they would be hurt during the battle. It looks like the animals were as separated by the curse as the rest of us. I haven't seen any sign of Perdita or the pups."

Snow frowned, looking at the dog happily wagging his tail. "Don't tell the children that. Emma loved those puppies so much. Remember when she kept trying to sneak them in bed with her?"

David smiled, remembering their little girl's wide-eyed look of pretend surprise when they heard barking coming from under her pillow. "We're lucky she didn't smother the poor things." Then he sobered abruptly. "I'm sure they're fine. They're just…someplace else."

Snow nodded reluctantly, "That seems to be the case with most everything else," she admitted.

"Mama, can we keep him at home?" Emma asked eagerly.

"No honey, that would look suspicious. It makes more sense for Papa to have Pongo, since he works at the animal shelter."

Emma's mouth turned down as she looked unhappily at Pongo.

David picked her up and cuddled her to him. "What's the matter? Don't you think I can take good care of Pongo?"

Emma buried herself into his shoulder. "I know you can Papa. I just missed having a dog." Then her face brightened. "But it's okay. This way you can have a friend at home too."

David kissed her cheek. "That's an excellent point, Princess."

Emma squirmed away and returned her attention to Pongo. Pinocchio had coaxed the dog to lay down and was sitting next to him, stroking his fur in a soothing manner.

Snow drew David six feet further from the children. She spoke in a hushed tone, "I've been thinking about this for awhile. I have an idea."

David raised an eyebrow.

"I've been watching Emma a lot."

"Of course."

"I think…I think she might have magic."

David looked at her incredulously. "How could Emma have magic? We don't know magic, and this world has no magic."

Snow shrugged, "I have no explanation for it David. I don't necessarily have proof either. Right now…it's more like a feeling."

"Like how we felt around Rumpelstiltskin?" David looked alarmed.

"No…" Snow's brow furrowed. "More like how we felt around Blue. But different from that too."

David looked from his wife, to his daughter, and back to his wife. His face reflected his anxiety. Magic was definitely of their world, but it had a way of complicating their lives. To have his daughter…

Snow touched his elbow. "It's more than that."

"How?"

"I was thinking about how the curse…well, how it fractured with us…and Emma. I keep turning it over in my mind. Is it because we're her parents, because we were together, because she is magic…all of it? All we know is that the curse didn't fracture when we were separate. We have strong connections with many people here. How can we use that…and Emma…to break the curse?"

David spoke slowly. "You mean…try to keep fracturing the curse? Form…an underground army of sorts? One break at a time?"
Snow shrugged helplessly, "I don't know. Maybe we'll find a way to split it all at once. But it gives us a place to start."

David nodded. "Yeah…a place to start." A smile twisted his lips. "Right now our army consists of two ex-Royals, two children and a dog."

Snow looked at the giggling children, her recently discharged-from-the-hospital husband, the panting Dalmatian… "battles have been won with less," she said confidently.

"Name two," challenged David, matching her intensity.

"No," said Snow firmly. "You'll just have to have faith."

David's smile this time crinkled the skin around his eyes. He moved closer to his wife, enfolding her against her chest, and leaning down to press his lips to hers. He paused to take a breath and regarded her again. "I can do that," he murmured, and kissed her once more.

Emma watched them from her vantage point on the ground. Then she turned and smiled at Pinocchio, her smile an echo of her father's. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Ready for what?"

"We're going take back the kingdom."