The room was silent now. You could hear a pin drop.
Breathe, Emma. Breathe.
She had managed to pull herself together before the coroner showed up; only to lose it once more when she saw him in the body bag.
She didn't want to remember him like that. But as the man who not an hour ago was more warm, more beautiful, and more alive than anyone she'd ever known.
She couldn't move, now. Somehow she had brought herself to call Mary Margaret to come get her, telling her the obvious, but sparing her of the details.
She would know. She always does.
"Emma," She sees Mary Margaret making her way towards her with tears in her eyes.
Emma couldn't look at her. She knew one glance would send her into a whirlwind that she would much rather participate in alone. So she just grabs her coat and walks toward the door, praying Mary Margaret would follow without questions.
She does. She won't push it.
The car ride was silent. Almost as silent as the office after they took Graham away.
Gone. He's gone.
She could still feel his lips moving on hers. Soft and slow. It was perfect. So dangerously perfect that she should have known something would go wrong. But how was she supposed to walk away from that? Something about him made her weak. Her mind was flirting with denial now.
They pull in the drive just in time for the pains to start again.
Aches. Her stomach was in literal knots. Twisted and contorted in ways she didn't think possible. She didn't know whether she was going to cry or throw up.
She hoped Mary Margaret could sense the desperation seeping from her.
Breathe, you're almost there.
The door swings open and Mary Margaret marches through, immediately turning to face her, as if she were expecting it.
"Emma,"
"Don't. Please, just don't." It's too late. Wait, breathe…
It hits her like a ton of bricks. Next thing she knows her back is against the door and she's heading for the floor when Mary Margaret catches her and puts her down gently.
Tears are flowing violently now. Breathing is stifled. Unable to cease the shakes that wrack her entire body. She doesn't even try to stop it. She knows she won't stand a chance.
The sound that escapes her is so foreign that it actually scares her. She slowly opens her eyes and realizes Mary Margaret is holding her now. The only thing she can think is don't let go, please god, don't let go.
Flashes of the day's events unfold before her eyes. The fight. The search. The hope.
It was all gone now, merely memories that will forever exist in her mind, pushed back out of the way for safekeeping. She knows Mary Margaret was right about that wall. She wished she hadn't torn it down for those few minutes. She wished she haven't had kissed him.
No, that's a damn lie.
"It'll be alright, Emma, you will be alright," Mary Margaret's soothing voice pulls her out of her nightmares as her breathing begins to level.
"I fell for him, "She chokes out, allowing the tears to flow again.
"Shh, I know. I know." Of course she does.
Silence. And she can hear his voice, again.
Thank you.
"…thank you," She whispers, "thank you".
No response. Just silence.