Title: Pulse
Author: snarkysweetness
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Emma/August
Summary: Emma is terrified of losing August again.
Warnings: Mild angst and fluff.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: I'm having a lot of Wooden Swan feels right now, so I feel the need to give everyone else some as well, because I'm evil like that. Thanks to my wife, hunksandwich, for the beta.
Her fingers carefully traced the outline of his face, up one side, then the other, before tucking a piece of his messy hair behind his ear. She lay on her side, propped up on her elbow and studied his peaceful, sleeping form.
Memories of him in his wooden form flooded her mind and she choked back a sob as she moved her hands down to his bare chest.
Emma tried to assure herself that he was really here, after all, she could feel his skin; soft, cold from the air conditioning, and most certainly not wood, but knowing that he was flesh wasn't enough for her. To a normal person, maybe, but they all knew she was far from normal.
She rested her cheek against the place above his heart and closed her eyes, listening.
When she heard the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart she let out a small sigh of relief.
August's arms wrapped around her small frame and she glanced up to find him still asleep and smiled.
She knew it was illogical, her desire to make sure his heart was still beating, but she did it anyway. Every time August pulled her in for a hug was an excuse for her to rest her head against his chest, just to double check. She woke every morning before he did, to assure herself that he was still with her. And after they make love, she had to fall asleep in his arms with the sound of his heart lulling her to sleep. If she didn't, she would wake from nightmares of him dying.
Breaking the curse had brought him back to her, but it couldn't erase the memory of him lifeless form her mind.
Emma was used to people abandoning her, whether they chose to or not. Her adopted parents had sent her away and the longest she'd ever spent in a foster home was six months. Henry's father had left. Her own parents had abandoned her, even if they'd done it to protect her. Even Graham had left her, by dying.
And though she'd gotten both of them back, having Henry and August die on her in the same day had been too much. Her every waking moment was spent in fear that she'd wake up and find that they were both gone and she'd imagined their resurrections.
So while it was a little crazy, Emma knew it could be worse.
After all, she knew better than to scare the kid by constantly checking to make sure he was still alive. Instead she chose to do it with his step-father and if August had caught on to her little neurosis, he'd yet to mention it.
August gave her a small squeeze and she looked up, this time finding his blue eyes watching her.
"You're doing it again," he whispered.
Ah, so he did know.
Emma bit her lip and shrugged, moving to rest her head on his shoulder.
August pressed a kiss into her hair and pulled her closer.
"You know I'm not going anywhere."
Emma nodded, slipping her arms around his waist.
"Hey, I mean it."
He tilted her chin up, locking his gaze on her.
"I am never going to leave you again. I know it's going to be a long time before you can accept that, but I promise," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her gently.
When he broke away, Emma moved her fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. This should be enough, holding him, kissing him, but it isn't.
Resting her forehead against his, Emma reminded herself that he's really here, repeating it over and over again in her mind.
August had always been able to read her mind. He was the one in the relationship that paid attention to the little things and he always knew exactly what she needed. He never questioned it either. He would wait, patiently, forever if needed, for her to slowly work through her many issues.
He sat up and drew her against him, letting her rest her head against his chest, while he ran his fingers through her hair.
The tightness in her chest dissipated with every pulsing vibration from his chest and the screaming voice in her head became quieter with each passing moment.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head again.
"Anything for you, Princess."
