Imaginings

Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.

He'd imagined doing many things with his child before the curse.

Archery and sword-fighting lessons and showing them the kingdom they would one day inherit, the land he and Snow had fought so hard for, to teach them their history and how someone from even the humblest beginnings can do great things.

He'd imagined all this and more, but none of it had come to pass.

Now there is no kingdom, no land, only a town in Maine and a cramped apartment. But it's bigger than what he'd grown up with, and the stables are only a short car ride away. And he's content; a glass of wine in his hands as his grandson regales his wife and daughter with tales of all they'd accomplished since the curse was broken.

His daughter, his child no longer a child with a glass of wine in her own hand. Her cheeks are flush and hair damp from an extra long shower and resting her head on Snow's shoulder she's never looked more perfect to him. They're all so perfect he didn't dare say anything lest he shatter the moment, so he just sips more wine and smiles as Henry acts out their sword fight around the living room. The rush of emotions from their reunion as well as the numerous cups of hot chocolate at Granny's are working their magic, but it isn't long before the boy starts to fade, finally coming to rest his head on his mother's lap.

In an instant Emma reaches to massage his head, a look he recognizes crossing her face, like she can't quite believe this child is hers, that she's here. He knows the feeling all too well. He only hopes that the distance between them isn't as wide as he feels it is, which is a sight longer than where she sits on the couch and him in his chair.

"Charming…" Snow's voice catches his attention, and he doesn't have to be told twice when she beckons him forward. Putting down his glass and taking her hand in his he watches as she manages to move just enough for him to sit down. The couch had been a tight fit with just the three of them, and he can feel Emma tense as he joins them. But as half-asleep Henry snuffles closer in reaction to their movements and Snow buries her nose into their daughter's hair he smiles as she relaxes once more.

Opening his arm Snow settles in the spot he knows to be made for her, but he keeps his hand atop the sofa. It would be so easy to reach and place his arm around not just Snow but Emma as well, but he falters. He remembers the man he'd been, the man the curse had made him. That man was the only one Emma knew who wore his face, how could she possibly accept any physical contact from him?

But then something happens, something extraordinary. Emma's hand reaches from its place at Henry's head to grasp his hand, quickly laying it on her shoulder before returning to her son. She doesn't look at him, doesn't say anything, but as he meets Snow's smiling gaze with teary eyes he knows nothing more is required.

Because this moment is better than any he ever imagined. It's real, and pressing a kiss to Snow's temple while tightening his grip on Emma's shoulder, it's all he needs.