Burden of Proof

Disclaimer: Don't own OUAT or the characters.

Summary: Set mid-Season 1. Snow and James remember their past lives earlier than expected but when they tell Emma who she is it doesn't go very well...

1

"We have to tell her," said James.

Snow shook her head and sank back into the couch in her apartment – well, Mary Margaret's apartment. "She won't believe it."

"Snow, she deserves to know who she is. We have to make her believe." James grasped her hand and pressed it. He tipped her chin up and held her gaze lovingly.

"Stop doing that," complained Snow with a smile.

"Doing what?" James grinned.

"THAT. You're giving me your Charming face, Charming."

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean." He leaned in close to her face.

They startled apart at the sound of the lock turning. Entering with arms full of paper grocery bags, a woman with long messy blond curls kicked the door shut behind her.

"Emma!" said Snow breathless with happiness and jumped up to greet her. "You're home early."

Emma looked shrewdly from Mary Margaret to David and back again. "Yeah, not much crime in Storybrooke today. Or any day for that matter. I thought I'd come home early and get dinner ready."

Snow followed Emma over to the kitchen where she dumped the groceries on the counter and started to unpack them. "Um, Emma, I didn't know you could cook?"

Emma glanced at her sideways, pretending to be affronted.

"It's just that well, I've never seen you cook anything before. Except toast, and that was before you destroyed the toaster." Snow struggled to say, trying not to insult her roommate.

"Hey, I realise that I'm somewhat domestically challenged," began Emma, (they both glanced towards the open door of her bedroom where there was more of her stuff on the floor than on the shelves) "but I'll have you know that I can actually cook.

"In fact, I've been cooking dinner for myself since I was ten. Admittedly back then it was peanut butter sandwiches and cold spagetthi straight from the can but still."

Emma grinned slyly and turned around to the fridge, completely missing her friend's expression. Snow looked like she was physically sick.

James went over and put a gentle hand on Snow's shoulder. He knew what was wrong by how she'd reacted to Emma's words. They'd sent their daughter away to an unknown world to give her her best shot—to save her—and she'd ended up in a place with people who wouldn't even feed her?

"David?"

James shook his head to clear away his thoughts. "Huh, what?"

"I asked if you were staying for dinner?" said Emma.

"I'd love to, if that's ok."

"Sure, no problem."

Snow laced her fingers through James's, drawing on his support. "Emma, we need to tell you something."

Snow turned and led James back to the living room and they took their position on the couch once more. They watched Emma intently as she flopped into an armchair and fidgetted into position.

"Ok what is this about? Cos you're kinda freaking me out with the staring."

"Sorry," Snow laughed shyly, suddenly nervous.

"Oh God, you're pregnant aren't you?" said Emma, slouching in the chair.

"What? No!" Snow shook her head rapidly and got tongue-tied.

"Emma, we need to talk to you about Henry," said James, picking up for his wife. Seeing the worry flood Emma's face, he rushed to add, "Don't worry, he's fine.

"Henry was right," said James.

"About?" asked the blonde.

Snow had recovered her voice but it shook slightly. "Emma, the book I gave him, his theory, it's all true."

"We remember who we are," finished James.

"Snow White and Prince Charming." Emma rolled her eyes and smirked. "Very cute. Look guys, if you wanted some alone time for your role-play games you could've just said so. Is this how you're justifying your affair? The old 'oh, we were married in a past life' defence?"

"Ugh, Emma," cried Snow, with a sigh of frustration.

"You can't really believe that you're both characters from a book of fairytales?" said Emma, voicing her long-held skepticism.

"Not just us, everyone in Storybrooke," said James. "Even you."

"Right," Emma scoffed.

Snow leaned forward earnestly. "Please, Emma, just listen. You know the story from Henry's book. We- we're your parents. We sent you through the magical wardrobe to save you from the curse. It was the only way."

"Snow was supposed to be the one who went through, before you were born, but then you came early," continued James, getting lost in the memory of that tragic last day. "When I placed you in the wardrobe, I could still hear you crying. The last thing I ever saw was that you had disappeared."

Snow took over the story again. "The plan worked. You escaped the curse and came back on your 28th birthday just as the prophesy predicted."

She gave Emma a tearful smile. "I'm so sorry, Emma. Giving you up was the hardest thing I've ever done. I only got to hold you for a few minutes, but they were the most wonderful moments of my life."

Snow's face fell to where she was wringing hands in her lap. "I know that when you came to this world, you grew up alone and with people who…didn't realise that you were special."

"But Emma," Snow knelt beside her daughter's chair, trying to get close to her. "We loved you from the moment we knew you existed and—" Snow broke off her voiced choked with tears. "You were so wanted, sweetheart."

Emma had been listening with a blank face, not reacting to anything. She kept her eyes down stubbornly, refusing to look at either of them. She rose from the chair silently and headed for her room.

Her lack of reaction confused James and Snow. "Emma, are you ok? I know it's a lot to take in, but-"

Emma whirled to face her with a face full of anger. "How could you be so cruel?" her words were low and full of dangerous hurt.

"I don't understand-" started Snow, confused.

"And you! What do you know about anything, David?" Emma shouted at James.

Emma continued. "I indulge Henry in his fairytale theory because he's ten. Because he's a lonely little boy with a crappy home life and I don't want to destroy his happiness. Not because I think there's any shred of truth in it!"

Tears ran down Snow's face at her daughter's pain.

Emma struggled for words. "Mary Margaret, you of all people should know – you must know how much I want –. And here you are saying all these crazy things and—this romantic story about magic wardrobes when in reality,"

"In r-reality I was found dumped on the side of a freeway like a bag of r-rubbish," Emma was so distraught and trying not to cry that she could barely get the words out.

"Emma, no, I never - " Snow was sobbing, her arms wrapped around her middle as she tried to get her breathing under control.

"Emma, we would never hurt you," said James roughly, hurting for his wife and daughter both.

"You know we-we're telling the tru-th. You know," gasped Snow.

She was right. Emma could tell when anyone was lying. Especially someone she knew as well as she did Mary Margaret. She forced herself to remain calm and cold. "That just means you believe your own delusions. Henry isn't lying either."

"No, it's because Henry knows the truth too," insisted James.

Emma ignored him and turned to Mary Margaret. "I'll pack my things. I'll get a room at Granny's tomorrow." She turned on her heel and stalked into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Snow let out a ragged sob and her legs gave out beneath her. James was quick enough to catch her and they sank to the floor. Snow threw her arms around him and held on as if for dear life.