This story is not my normal genre, this is hurt comfort. If you don't think anxiety and depression are very real things, do not read this story. If anxiety and depression are triggers for you, do not read this story.
Emma sat bundled in a warm fuzzy blanket looking out over the vast expanse that was the ocean blue. The bay window in her small apartment afforded her a luxurious view that belied the average means she lived by. It was a grey January day, there was a chill in the air and a light drizzle covering the small Maine seaport.
They were supposed to go out today, but Emma hadn't felt like leaving the confines of her cozy apartment. She texted the group that she wasn't going to be able to make it. She didn't add a reason. The truth was, there wasn't really a reason. Not one she could discern. She loved her friends, loved hanging out, but she had no desire to interact today. Well that wasn't exactly true if she was being a stickler for semantics. It wasn't that she had no desire to, she just felt like maybe she couldn't.
Mary Margaret, the mom of the group had immediately texted back asking if everything was okay, wanting to know if Emma was sick, or hurt. David had called her a party pooper, and Killian had stated that he unequivocally would not be going out with just the two lovebirds who would inevitably spend the whole day making heart eyes at each other. Emma assured the group she was not injured or ill. She couldn't exactly say she was in good health either though as that might not be true. She felt… icky, off. Just sad, as she had taken to calling it in her head.
None of her friends knew that she suffered from this just sadness from time to time. Usually she could cover it up with the excuse of being too tired from an all night stake out. Today though, she didn't even have the heart to make up the lie. She didn't want to put on a facade. In fact, if she were honest with herself, there was a very specific reason she didn't put a reason to her bailing act. She was tired of this idiosyncratic sadness, tired of dealing with it on her own.
She noticed that when this just sadness affected her, the weather was, more often than not, gloomy. It also affected her more during or right after the holidays. Holidays would always bring about thoughts of her childhood which wasn't particularly happy, but over the years she had made peace with her past. Her tight knit group of friends had unquestionably helped her to heal. That thought brought her back to her current predicament. She sighed heavily still staring out over the rough and choppy seas. She chuckled at the mirror it presented to her internal upheaval. She was feeling relieved that she wouldn't have to put up a happy front for the day, but extreme guilt also gnawed at her for bailing on the group.
Maybe I should just go, she thought. Maybe being around them will help. She knew it wouldn't help when her stomach immediately got that hollow droppy feeling at the thought. Her eyes welled with tears as that helpless feeling started to take over her. It was so frustrating to know just how categorically irrational she was being, but not being able to do anything about it. This is what the just sadness would morph into when she thought too hard about it.
Anxiety. About what, she couldn't say. It was like she would try to talk herself through, or out of the just sadness, and then the anxiety would start to take over. As if to say, if you won't just be sad, then you're going to be wrought with anxiety. It started with a pit in her stomach, a quickened pulse, sometimes even the sensation of losing her breath or falling. She would sometimes get dizzy, in an overwhelmed sense. At its worst, she would become physically ill, and she couldn't very well deal with that in a public setting now could she?
Emma leaned her forehead against the chilled pane of the window, she'd started to sweat a little, and it had nothing to do with the fuzzy blanket. Just another thing that happened sometimes when she was having a spell. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of thoughts coursing through her stream of consciousness. So it's going to be one of the more powerful bouts. Succumbing to that thought, she let her tears fall freely. Sometimes if she just let it out, it helped the entire episode to pass quicker. Maybe I can still catch them for dinner later. Her brain liked to war with her physical symptoms with thoughts like that, a dizzy spell hit her again as she thought about having this happen to her in public. Now she felt nauseous between the dizziness and the sweats.
She'd learned over time that at the very pinnacle, all she could do was hang on tight and ride out the storm. She was ugly crying now as sob after sob fell loudly from her mouth. She was positive it was not a pretty sight, but that was the least of her concerns. What topped the list of concerns when she got like this was, what the hell is wrong with me?
She cried for what could have been a few minutes, or an hour. She lost track as her head started to pound, and her sinuses became stuffier. Emma could hear Killian, though she couldn't quite make out if he was scolding her, or panicking. Perhaps both. He sounded as though he were in the room, not her mind. Great, she thought as she wondered if she was imagining him or having an auditory hallucination. She wished Killian really was here. She was so truly tired of dealing with this on her own.
"Swan!"
Emma whipped her head around when she heard it again. "Killian?" She didn't realize she'd held her arms out to him until he returned her embrace. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and buried her face into his neck. She cried his name over and over, and took what comfort she could in the solace of his strong embrace.
"Shhhh, Emma. Please love, tell me what's wrong. I'm worried about you."
All that received was more crying, she'd soaked the collar of his shirt now. She could feel herself shaking in his arms, and even though she was warm, a little sweaty even, she couldn't stop the shaking.
"Come on, Emma," Killian prodded, fear in his tone, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need. Are you hurt?"
"Bed." She managed to get the one word out between her choked breathing. She felt herself lifted immediately as he took her into her bedroom. He sat her on the side of the bed and peeled back the covers, gingerly lifting her again, he laid her down and tucked her in. She watched him through teary eyes as he turned to leave. Her breath hitched hard in her throat.
Killian turned to look at her, "I'll be right back."
"Killian!"
"Emma, I'm going to get you water. I promise, I will be right back."
She nodded her head and watched him go. As promised he was back in a flash. He handed her a bottle of water and sat on the edge of the bed next to where she had curled into another fuzzy blanket.
She'd never wanted anyone to see her like this. But maybe just this once, she was tired of dealing with this on her own. She closed her eyes as he brushed the matted hair off of her forehead.
"Tell me how to help."
Emma opened her eyes to look up at Killian. His blue eyes were glassy as they seemed to peer right into her soul. She knew her heightened state was making her a little more sensitive to his scrutiny.
"Just stay," she whispered, then pulled down the covers next to her, offering the bed.
Killian nodded silently, then slipped off his boots and jacket, and climbed in next to her.
Turning on her side toward Killian, Emma snuggled against him. Taking his hand she guided it around her waist so he was holding her. He immediately tightened his hold which made her feel secure. She wasn't sure how Killian knew that she needed security right now, but it didn't matter, thank god he did. Her tears had subsided, and she wasn't shaking anymore; now what remained were puffy eyes, a red and swollen nose, and hitched breathing. And although she wasn't going to magically be better, this was a step in the right direction. Right now, this was the only way she could express that she wanted the help he was offering.
Emma woke with a start. She was in some sort of a cocoon, wrapped with more than just her usual fuzzy comfort blanket. Oh, shit, she thought as she opened her eyes and saw Killian. She immediately moved to separate herself from the comfortable tangle they were in. Of course Killian's arms immediately drew her in closer.
"Nope, you are not going anywhere until you tell me what the bloody hell is going on."
She could hear the rasp in his voice making it apparent he'd dozed off too. She wondered how long they'd been out. "It's nothing, really."
"Nice try, Swan."
"I'm serious, Killian."
"As am I, darling. You scared me to death. That was the opposite of nothing."
Emma lay there tight-lipped. She even crossed her arms in front of her chest in an attempt to separate them.
"You can sigh, stomp, fold your arms, and stay stoically silent as long as you want. But I'm not leaving until we figure this out. Together."
Emma rolled her eyes. She didn't even know why she was putting up a fight. If she searched into the depths where most truths can be found, she knew she wanted his help. She needed Killian to show up for her today, and whether she could admit it out loud or not, she needed to talk to someone about this.
"Okay," she mumbled.
"What?"
"I said, o-"
"Oh, I heard you, I just can't believe it was that easy. You're getting soft in your old age."
"Shut up." Emma cracked a smile despite the somber tone around them.
"There she is," Killian whispered almost as if in awe.
"Don't be weird, Jones."
"I am a lot of things, but weird is not one of them," he scoffed. "Okay, I'm a little weird," he relented when she gave him the eye.
Emma sat up against the backboard of her bed. "So, I…" She wasn't sure where to start as she trailed off in her first attempt to ask for help.
"You can tell me anything, Emma."
She sat wringing her hands manically, and chewing her lip as she tried to put into words what was going on.
Killian sat up next to her, leaning on the headboard as she was, and set his hand on top of hers to still her fidgeting. "Anything."
"What if I told you I couldn't tell you."
"Are you in some sort of trouble? Is someone after you?"
"No, not like that. Not that I don't want to tell you, or can't tell you, but that I don't know what to tell you. I don't know how to put it into words that make sense. It's really stupid."
"Look at me Emma, nothing you tell me is going to be stupid. What happened earlier is very real, and needs to be dealt with. You don't have to tell me, but you have to talk to someone."
She took a deep breath then readied herself for the embarrassment she was about to bring on herself. "Here goes then," she started, trying to focus on the way is thumb was caressing the top of her hand. "Sometimes I just get sad. I feel different, out of sorts. When I feel like that, I feel like I can't be around anyone because I don't want anyone to see me weak. If I try to talk my way out of it, if I try to reason my way through it, I get anxiety."
She rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. "When the anxiety starts it comes in different ways. Dizziness, heart palpitations, sweats, stomach ache, even nausea. At its worst I get physically ill, but that doesn't happen much anymore, that was more when I was a kid. I know it's all irrational, and it's in my head, but no matter what I do, I can't stop it. I think that might be the worst part. Knowing there is no basis for how I feel, knowing it's ridiculous, but not being able to fix it."
"Emma," he said with a distinct sadness to his timbre.
"Don't! Don't do that. Don't pity me. See? That's why I don't want anyone to ever see this shit. I don't want you to feel sorry for me."
"I don't pity you. I'm sorry that you've dealt with this by yourself for your whole life. I'm sorry that you didn't have anyone to help you through it. I'm sorry you feel that there is no basis for your feelings."
"Same thing!"
"No, Swan, it's not. Pitying you would mean that I thought it was your fault."
Emma opened her mouth to speak, then quickly shut it. She opened it again when she realized he had a point. Instead of saying anything at all she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"How often?"
"I don't know, it's not something I schedule, you know," she joked. "It happens sometimes after big holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas. I also notice it's usually when the weather is gloomy."
"Sounds like it could be a bit of seasonal depression. As for the anxiety, it likes to run in the same crowd with depression."
Emma tilted her head up from where it rested on his shoulder to look at him. "How do you know all this stuff? And I'm not depressed."
"Depression is a broad term, it encompasses many behaviors. It's not always the classic symptoms that you see in the movies. Sometimes it's things like not eating, not wanting to do your normal activities, closing yourself off, or always being tired or out of energy."
She listened as Killian explained to her different symptoms she'd experienced on and off throughout her life. Sometimes she'd gone months without symptoms, other times she'd been plagued over an extended period of time. "Again, how do you know this stuff?"
"My mum suffered anxiety and depression for years before her death. I always chalked it up to her shitty treatment by my father. It wasn't until I was older that I started experiencing some symptoms. I tried to self medicate which in my case definitely helped tamp down the anxiety, but it amped up the depression to a new level."
Emma's eyes watered as she realized that this was one more way in which they were kindred spirits.
"Uh-uh, no pity, your rules."
"I don't pity you! I just feel bad that you had to watch your mom go through that and then you had to deal with the same thing without her."
"Some might say that's the same thing as pity. In fact, I believe it was the great Emma Swan who said oof-"
The air rushed out of his chest as she backhanded him. "Knock it off, you know what I mean,"
"Aye, I do." He smiled at her, one of those special smiles that reached all the way to his eyes causing those cute crinkles to form. "It took the death of my brother and the subsequent rock bottom that I hit to make me realize that I needed real help."
"What kind of help?"
"Well, for starters I quit drinking to dull my senses. Next, I found someone to talk to. Through talking and advice I went back to my old hobby, something I find cathartic."
"Sailing helps you to combat… feelings?" she asked skeptically.
"No, Emma. Not all feelings are a bad thing, despite what you may think. Sailing helps me to combat the negativity. It clears my mind, it lifts the fog if you will. Mind you, it's not foolproof, it doesn't always work. I still seek out counsel from time to time."
"So you're telling me I am going to have to get my head shrunk?"
"If that's how you feel about it, then maybe that's not the route you want to take. Maybe a hobby, although I don't know as kicking people's asses qualifies, and it's the only thing I know you love doing." He laughed at the scandalized expression on her face. "Seriously Swan, there are many options out there. Let me help you find your way?"
"I um… I'd like that." She knew there was a reason she didn't tell anyone why she wouldn't be going today. Deep down she knew that her message would be received. Maybe she didn't have to deal with this on her own. Looking up at Killian and the accepting expression on his face, she knew she wouldn't have to go it alone anymore. "Thank you for coming, Killian." She leaned up just a bit a kissed his cheek, then rested her head back on his shoulder.
They sat together for the next several hours talking and sharing their experiences. Emma could actually feel pressure leaving her chest, and fog clearing from her mind as she opened up about the darkness that had shrouded her on and off in her life. And although she wasn't going to magically be better, this was a step in the right direction.