A/N: This is a short first chapter of what I suspect will be a multi-chapter story about Regina and Emma returning home from Neverland with a traumatized Henry. Will be Swan Queen. The title is from Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie. Hope you enjoy; your thoughts and feedback would be very much appreciated.
He seems more like a baby than the strong independent boy who showed up at her door in Boston. Clutching at Regina who somehow manages to hoist him in the air. Henry's legs wrap around Regina's waist like Emma imagines they had when he was four, five, six years old. Not nine days shy of his twelfth birthday.
They ascend the plank onto the Jolly Roger. Regina carries their son up the ramp, a few beads of sweat the only evidence that Henry weighs any more than he had as an infant in her arms.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret shrieks staring at the red liquid that coats Emma's entire leg. Emma has almost forgotten about the blade that sliced through her flesh just hours ago.
"I'm fine." But now, standing still for the first time in hours, Emma feels herself sway. She's dizzy and nauseous. Maybe it's from the memory of Henry screaming, lost in his own mind, a shadowy figure wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.
Emma stumbles forward to where Regina has collapsed on the deck, Henry cradled in her lap with his arms around her neck. He's silent now, the whimpering sounds he made at first - the only indication that he was alive -have stopped. Emma kneels down besides them. "Henry," she whispers, leaning in, but not touching his body.
"You're safe now, Henry," Regina tells him. She rubs her palm against his back. "Emma and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."
Emma wonders how Regina can promise such things. "Your mom's right kid." She talks like everything is normal, like he isn't mutely clinging to Regina. "We're going to keep you safe. No reason to be afraid anymore."
They are two women who understand how fear lingers, how you are irrevocably changed by the things that are done to you, but they soothe him with lies anyway.
"Henry," Mary Margaret says, bending down beside the boy and laying her hand on his back.
An almost inhuman sounding cry fills the air.
Emma wonders how her mother could be so stupid. Does she know that little about pain?
Henry is still crying. At least it reassures Emma that he's alive.
"Shh, shh, shh, shh," Regina soothes, rocking Henry gently.
"What's wrong with him?" Mary Margaret asks.
"Nothing," Regina replies angrily before her voice changes entirely and she returns to soothing Henry. Emma wonders if Henry will ever be the same. She wonders whether Regina has even stopped to think about that.
Emma looks around and realizes that her parents, Gold, and Hook are standing over them. Each wears an expression of horror. Emma is overcome by the desire to move them all away, to shield Henry from their scrutiny, even if right now he is aware of nothing besides Regina's presence. Emma begins to stand but she's forgotten about her leg and it gives way under the stab of pain.
Emma falls to the deck. Regina almost forgot that Emma was injured; she had walked hours without a complaint, through the world with no magic and no healing. "Come here," Regina says, one hand leaving Henry's back to reach out to Emma.
Warmth spreads through the wound, and the pain is gone. Emma can't stop to think about how magic can mend skin and muscle, can take away the throbbing pain, can remove the woozy feeling of having her blood leak from her body. She can only think of Henry. "Regina." The name sounds like a plea.
Regina's eyes meet Emma's. Regina looks just as terrified as Emma feels, and all hopes that Regina can magically make Henry better too disappear. "Should we put him to bed?" Emma asks uncertainly. She is still keenly aware that they are being stared at.
Regina nods, and manages to stand without letting go of Henry.
"You can take my bed," Hook says. "There's room there to lie down with him."
Regina nods her thanks, and she and Emma descend the stairs to Hook's cabin.
Emma closes the door behind them, her back pressed against it. The space is small and claustrophobic, and Emma wonders whether it will make Henry more scared. But he barely seems to register the change of venue.
"Henry," Regina whispers, running her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. "Do you want to try to sleep?" He says nothing, and so she kicks off her shoes and lies down on the stiff bunk. Henry's lying on her chest, and it reminds Regina of the nights when he was fussy as a baby and she would lie with him in her bed desperately hoping for a few hours of sleep before he woke her.
For a minute the truth of the situation hits Regina and she feels sick with the idea that Henry will never be ok again. She swallows back the bile in her throat and focuses all her thoughts on the patterns she is tracing on Henry's back.
Emma wonders if she should leave, wonders if now that they found Henry the understanding between she and Regina will fade away. They had walked through the forest together today with their son. Bringing him home had been their singular purpose for a week. Things were supposed to be ok once he was in their arms. He was supposed to be telling stories about how he fought the lost boys, how he couldn't believe that tinker bell was real.
Emma sits down besides the bed. She can't leave Henry. She rests an arm on the edge of the bed, laying her head on top of it. Her body aches and reminds her of what she has put in through.
Regina watches Emma wince in pain. "I don't bite."
"What?"
"You can lie on the bed Emma."
"Oh, uh, thanks." Emma stands, wondering why she's so nervous. She and Regina have seen each other reduced to tears this last week. They've seen each other bleed and fall and be sick. Emma lies down, unfurling the blanket that rests at the foot of the bunk. She tucks the blanket around the three of them and lays her head on the hard mattress.
Regina inches towards the wall of the cabin silently making room for Emma to share the solitary pillow. Emma leans over; her face is besides Regina's cheek. Emma is close enough to observe the streaks of dirt and dried sweat on her bedmate's skin. Emma wonders whether her breath tickles Regina, but Regina says nothing, just closes her eyes and tightens her arms around Henry.
Emma reaches her arm out to wrap it around Henry, overcome now by the urge to touch him and make sure that he is really beside her. Her hand settles next to Regina's on their son's back. Emma is grateful that he doesn't flinch. She closes her eyes and chases sleep that she is certain won't come to her tonight.