TITLE: Ricochet
PROLOGUE: Wayward

It was impossible. All the tossing, turning, huffing and throwing off the covers did nothing to soothe the restless mind in the loft; the restless mind that was currently attempting to sort through the events of the last two days.

She had thought they were turning a corner. She thought, since her return, that extending an olive branch could start to rebuild the bridge. It had been there once - granted, that had only been in the first ten minutes they knew each other. Any other olive branches extended were momentary, when they or their son had been in danger. The brief glimpse of a possible friendship after the curse had broken had been too brief, before she was ripped away into another world. But when she came back, she thought they could make a change for the better.

Yet here they were again.

"God dammit," Emma whispered, throwing the covers off for the last time and sitting up, swinging her legs almost violently over the side of the bed. She didn't even flinch when her heels hit the bed frame, sending a shockwave up her legs.

Here they were, back at the start. Dammit, Regina.

She had been so sure. So sure that Regina had changed. She had been so certain that she managed to put her own parents in doubt.

"I know that look. ...I know her."

She had been so certain they were stuck on that old image - the 'Evil Queen' persona from a lifetime ago. Hell, she knew Regina, and her schemes and back-biting ways, well enough to be certain that she wasn't trying to pull anything. The deep onyx of her eyes gave her away. She had known nothing of Archie's fate.

But using that dream catcher on Pongo... pulling up the image of Regina doing something so unspeakable... then she couldn't believe she had had faith in her in the first place. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid as to believe Regina could be something she had never been in the first place: a good person.

"We know how you are, and how you will always be."

And then, poof - in an instant she was gone. There had been no retaliation, no last, biting comment. Just a vacancy in her eyes, then a plume of purple smoke and she had vanished. And Emma was left terrified, knowing that she had to pick up the pieces. That she had to tell Henry what she'd seen his mother do.

He had been devastated, and rightfully so. He had barely touched his dinner, and went to bed in a somber mood. Emma had been unable to reach him, unable to offer any solace. A few hours as a single parent and she was already failing miserably.

The linen curtains lifted, dancing in midair as a breeze swept into the room, but it did nothing to calm Emma's already frazzled nerves. She felt lost. A little hopeless. And the strangest emotion of all... she felt guilty. Guilty for the words she spat at Regina out of anger. Out of hurt and betrayal. She wanted to have faith in her and Regina let her down, hard.

When the curtains separated again, Emma glanced out the window at the sleeping town. She half-wondered if a walk would clear her head; if it would help to stem the wayward thoughts.

Then a purple plume appeared at the foot of her bed and she found herself frozen in place.

TBC