A/N: Here we are, the second and final part! I'm still not completely happy with this but if I keep tinkering with it, I'll never get it posted :)

As always, feedback is much appreciated!

Dedication: For everyone who has ever reviewed any of my stories, you guys are all completely awesome!

Disclaimer: OUAT and all of its characters belong to ABC…all I own is a burning need to see more mother/daughter moments next season…

It wasn't until a few days after her return from the Enchanted Forest that Emma finally found some time to visit her Mom alone. She'd wanted to prove that she meant what she said about Storybrooke being home, so she had left for New York the next day to quickly pack up the apartment, withdraw Henry officially from his school and sever the last few paperwork ties which connected them to the Big Apple. It had felt freeing, in a way that her first move to Storybrooke had not. She was truly moving home for the first time in her life.

Henry's previous research made picking a new apartment easy and with her Dad and Hook's help, they were settled in by the end of the following day in a cozy little place overlooking the harbor. Now, with Henry spending the day with Regina and David keeping Hook occupied by helping him acclimatize to the wonders of modern life, Emma would have Mary Margaret all to herself…except for her baby brother of course, but she wanted to see him too.

Making sure everything she needed was safely tucked into her bag, she headed out to her parent's loft.

Her mother answered the door in a slightly harried state, in the midst of trying to change her squirming brother's diaper. After she finally succeeded and got him settled safely into his crib, she pulled Emma into a lingering hug.

"Hi Mom," she murmured into her shoulder, glad that the moniker rolled easily off her tongue. She had made a conscious decision to start calling her parents by their familial titles more often…in a way, it made her feel more like their daughter.

"Hi daughter," she replied back before shaking her head with a touched grin on her lips, "I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing you call me that."

"Good, because I don't think I'll get tired of saying it," Emma returned, taking a seat on the couch. Mary Margaret followed, a strange expression lighting up her features which prompted Emma to inquire what was wrong.

"Nothing, just…getting used to this new…open…you, I mean…"

Emma shook her head.

"I know what you mean," she said quietly, before tilting her head, "Do you remember the conversation we had in the woods? I know that while it was only a week ago for me, it was technically years ago for you but…"

"I remember," Mary Margaret interrupted, before a slight smile bloomed on her face, "You kept your promise….about the first thing you would do when you got home."

"Well, a very wise bandit told me not to waste my second chance…and I didn't want to incur her wrath. I heard she's pretty good with a bow after all."

Her mother grinned, "And don't you forget it."

"Seriously though," Emma started, face becoming solemn, "I wanted to apologise…"

"Oh honey, you don't have to…"

"Yes, I do," she said firmly, taking in a deep breath, "I want to say I'm sorry, for all the times I pushed you away. For all the times you wanted to be there for me but I didn't let you. For every time I hurt you when I acted like the fact you are my mother didn't matter. For every time I said this place, this family wasn't home."

She leaned forward to grasp Mary Margaret's hands, as tears dropped from the other woman's eyes.

"I was scared that if I let you in, let everything in, that I wouldn't survive it when I lost everything because I always have. But everything I saw in the past made me realize it would hurt so much more if I never let myself be a part of this family in the first place. Because at the end of the day, despite my childhood, despite everything that happened…you're still my Mom. And I love you."

Mary Margaret's tears were now coming thick and fast. Before Emma could reach up to wipe them away, she was engulfed in another warm hug.

"I love you too," her mother cried into her neck, "You've always been my daughter, no matter where you were in the realms."

She pulled back, wiping futilely at her cheeks.

"And I want to apologise too…sometimes I pushed you too hard when I could see you weren't ready. I guess I just wanted my daughter straight away, wanted this family to be whole straight away…even though deep down I knew things wouldn't be that easy."

Emma could see a visible weight lift off her mother's shoulders at the apology and she wondered how long she had agonized over balancing her need for family with Emma's need for space.

"Guess we both had things to work on," she offered with a smile, forgiveness shining in her eyes.

"Like mother, like daughter."

"Damn right, your chin isn't the only thing I inherited."

They looked at each other for a moment, remembering a conversation long ago when the same subject was raised.

"A lot's changed since then," Mary Margaret said softly, eyes misty with memory.

"For the better," Emma stated with conviction.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Blinking away her own tears, Emma reached over to retrieve her bag.

"I brought something for you…well, two things actually. One for you and Dad, one for Neal."

Pulling the bag onto her lap, she reached inside and brought out the first item. It was a teddy bear, worn with age, a faded green ribbon tied around its neck.

"I've had this since I was three. My social worker bought it for me after my first foster family sent me back. It was my first friend…and now I want it to be Neal's."

"It's perfect," Mary Margaret whispered, taking it in her arms and placing it on her lap, "He'll love it…especially when he gets older and realizes it belonged to his big sister."

"And the second thing," she started, pulling out a leather bound album, "I managed to scrounge together as many photos as I could of my childhood and of Henry's and I thought…we could add photos of all us, as a family."

"Oh Emma…"

The speechless look of joy on her mother's face was all the thanks Emma needed.