It's okay.
It's okay.
His last words to her echoed endlessly in her head long after the ambulance had carted him away.
She could only be held in her parents' embrace for so long until she pulled back, her hands rubbing her cheeks in futile effort to wipe the dampness on her skin.
"Emma–" her mother started.
She cut her off before she launched into her attempts to sooth her. "I'm–" I'm not okay. "I know you mean the best and I'm grateful, but I just want to be by myself right now. Please."
Mary Margaret's protest was cut short by David's hand on her shoulder.
"Please just call us if you need anything. And you're welcome to stay at the loft again."
She could only nod. She appreciated their concern, she really did, but having people dote on her and watch her every move would almost be more painful than what she'd just witnessed.
"Mom."
Her head shot up at the sound of Henry's voice and immediately her heart broke off the last of its pieces when she saw the redness around his eyes, the tears still trapped inside. "Henry." She paused. "Are you–"Of course he wasn't okay. None of this was okay. For the first time she didn't know what to say to her son. She–selfishly–hadn't thought about Henry's pain until he was rushing into her arms. She caught him and held him as tight as she could, hoping it made up for her lack of words.
"I can take him tonight," she heard Regina say softly. "If that's okay with you." Her tone conveyed her concern for her child, but when Emma looked up she saw in Regina's face a plea, as if to say let me do this.
For her or for Henry, Emma wasn't exactly sure.
"What? No, I want to be with you," Henry argued.
"Kid, I–" She huffed out a breath. "I'll come back and see you in a little while okay?" Her body was furiously fighting her attempts to keep her emotions in check in front of everyone, particularly Henry. She swallowed down the softball-sized lump in her throat. "I just need…some air." Even she didn't believe it. She hated herself for not being able to comfort her own son but she promised herself to do so later, after she had digested the immediacy of the situation.
"Are you gonna be okay?" He asked. He was still close to her side. She cupped his cheek and smiled at him. He so obviously was pushing down his pain in order to care for her and it only added to her rising pile of guilt. She couldn't fall apart in front of him, she just couldn't. It wouldn't be fair.
She managed to nod. She glanced at Regina as Henry allowed himself to be pulled back by her and Robin.
Unable to look at the pitying looks of her family any longer, she turned back around to the patch of grass holding the quickly-fading imprint of where he fell. Her hand rose up to grasp her only anchor to the earth and sighed in relief when she felt the cold metal of the ring in her fingers. She looked down at it until she heard their footsteps fade, the crisp breeze becoming the only sound around her.
For Emma time came to halt when she sat down on the cold bench that faced the clearing. The hardness of the bench combined with the frigid air soothed her senses slightly; it gave her another feeling to focus on, rather than the aching heart in her chest.
She looked back down at the ring she had slipped onto the tip of her index finger, the metal warm from her mindlessly twirling and gripping it.
She felt stupid. Guilty. Angry.
Overwhelmingly lost.
The lost feeling her heart knew all too well suddenly regained its vigor in that moment. It filled her mind and ghosted down her chest like a drag of smoke, her chest tightening in protest. Without ever realizing it, Killian Jones had taken it away, eased it to the point of irrelevance.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered to the wind. She found comfort in speaking to him, whether he was there somehow or not. "I'm sorry I was so scared of the future, all that time…." Wasted.
Cliché, she thought, that only when it was too late that everything became clear to her. "This wasn't supposed to happen, you were supposed to survive, you stupid pirate," she cried.
Her eyes closed to allow what she knew not to be the last of her tears. She finally let the sobs take over, hating their echo against the trees but couldn't find the sense to care. Her knees slammed into the damp grass in front of her as her body fell forward under the weight.
A few moments later she felt her hand throb and slowly she released her fingers from their grip on the ring, the skin red and indented with its small carvings. Her breath was slowing but her chest still ached. It amazed her how one could feel everything but absolutely nothing all at the same time. She felt physically empty, yet her heart was like a vile filled with the darkest of magic, its poison wafting through her chest until it clogged every crevice inside her.
She'd thought she'd known loss, but oh how she was wrong. She hadn't known what mattered until it was gone, maybe never to be seen again.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, jumping in surprise at the contact.
"Henry," she sighed when his features came into focus. She quickly tried to wipe her face before his hand stopped her.
"Mom, stop. You don't have to do this alone," Henry whispered. He was kneeling down in front of her, his hand still on her wrist. She saw his lips quiver slightly before his next words fell heavily in between them. "I loved him, too."
She yanked him down into her arms. He was too big to fit in her lap but she didn't care. She held him like their lives depended on it as they both cried into each other.