Prompt from Bighead98
Whole
Emma Swan had fought battles. She had won wars. She had bested countless people. Her life hadn't been heaven. No, it had been far from that.
But nothing could have ever prepared her for this. The inner turmoil she felt every single moment of every single day. The raging storm rising up inside her, clashing like a sea of knives. She didn't know what to feel. She didn't know what to think.
She didn't know what to do.
Her mind was fractured—split into three parts, each of them at war with the other. She tried to control them. She tried to make peace with herself. But, Oh God, it was just so hard.
One was the Dark One—the piece of her entirely consumed in the wretched blackness, amplifying her flaws and fears and insecurities and imperfections a thousand fold. It fed off her hatred and seeped into her very soul. She relished it at times. But other moments, she hated it. She hated it with the very fibre of her being. She wanted it gone, banished from her body and soul. But it wouldn't let her. That dark part of her mind wouldn't let her think like that. It constantly warred with the other fractions, but she felt it getting stronger every moment. It was winning—that much, she knew.
x
Henry watched her carefully and when he spoke to her, his voice was guarded and wary. "You don't have to be like this, Mom," he whispered. "You can be good again. I know you can."
She stared back, maintaining her cool visage. Although on the inside, there was a war raging in both mind and soul. Being the Dark One was having the freedom to let go of all her inhibitions and doubts. It was refreshing. But another part of her mind knew that none of this should be happening. She should be good; she should be the Saviour.
It was a while before she spoke again.
"No, I can't Henry. This is me. They failed to rid me of the darkness, so this is what I have become," she said quietly, voice devoid of emotion.
Henry didn't reply.
x
The 'Dark One' fraction of her tortured mind was always prominent in these rare, close moments she shared with her family. It was constantly whispering to her, goading her and tempting her. It drank from her deepest uncertainties and doubts.
The only one who saves you is you, it hissed. They only think of you as their Saviour...the one they can pin all their problems on, instead of solving them themselves. And what reward do you ever receive for any of this? That's right, nothing. You don't get a happy ending—that's what being a Saviour means.
Every single word hit her hard, digging into her mind and body and soul like knives. It made her feel weak, helpless. But also powerful. Strong enough to do whatever she pleased.
x
Snow White and Prince Charming could do nothing but watch her as the newly minted Dark One walked through the small loft. Emma smiled coldly at her parents, her gaze not once wavering from their eyes. They seemed frightened—if not for themselves, then for their baby.
"Emma, please—"
"No!" she hissed. "You don't get to talk to me."
She sneered inwardly. The Dark One told her that her parents didn't want her anymore. That her baby brother was all they ever needed. He was her replacement.
No matter how much the other parts of her argued, no matter how much she tried to convince herself...she was beginning to believe it.
x
And then there was the Saviour segment of her divided mind. It was the part of her constantly fighting against the Darkness. The part of her constantly telling herself that she couldn't hurt the people she cared about. That she had to save this town from herself.
Sometimes the Saviour won and the Dark One receded into the deep recesses of her brain, but that occurred rarely these days.
x
One of the pesky dwarves had dented her bug. She didn't know which one—Emma couldn't be bothered to remember their names—but she knew that they would be punished.
So, right then, in the darkest hour of the night, Emma vanished and reappeared instantly in the home of the perpetrator. She walked angrily to the bedroom, prepared to show them her wrath.
She flung the door open and it broke right off the hinges, crashing to the opposite wall. Instantly, all seven of them were awake and shouting, weapons raised and eyes glinting.
Emma laughed. This would be easy.
She flung out her hand and with one wave, swept them all off of their feet. They tumbled to the ground, groaning and grunting. She stalked toward the one who had damaged her car—the happy one. He annoyed her.
Emma pinned him to the wall and raised her hand. She would crush his little windpipe like it was nothing. She squeezed and the dwarf clutched at his throat, desperately trying to gasp for air.
It was only when the one-handed pirate and the Evil Queen burst through the door that she relented. She kept the dwarf—Happy—pinned to the wall and turned to look at the newcomers.
"What do you want?" she snapped.
"Emma," replied Hook firmly. "You can't kill him."
"And why not?" she retorted.
"Because it isn't you," cut in Regina. "This," she said, gesturing toward her, "isn't you at all."
"And how would you know?"
"Swan," murmured Hook softly. "You don't want to do this."
It suddenly hit her. What was she doing? Was she killing a man for denting her car? It seemed ludicrous. Almost insane. The Saviour part of her mind admonished her for ever thinking of murder. The Dark One urged her to kill him. It urged her to kill them all.
But the Saviour was stronger, and so she vanished in a cloud of smoke, the voices in her head unceasing and unrelenting.
x
The Saviour and the Dark One constantly fought for dominance, hurting the people around her. She didn't want that. She hated it.
And then there was the third and final piece of her fractured mind. The last part of the puzzle. It wasn't the Dark One. It wasn't the Saviour. It was her. Emma.
This part wasn't dark or light. It wasn't good or bad. It was simply Emma. The embodiment of everything she was and will be. The one her family loved. This part of her didn't fit in a specific category or expectation. This part of her was Emma through and through, with all her flaws and grudges and memories and doubts and happiness.
This part of her had both the darkness and the light, united and whole. It didn't want the Saviour to win, or the Dark One. It only wanted what was the best for her—for Emma.
The Dark One and the Saviour and Emma were always clashing—fighting strong and fierce with each other, raging and furious. The three sides were like armies on a war field, never at peace with the other.
But now, as she sat silently on the abandoned dock, staring out at the setting set, she realized something. Something she should have come to realize weeks ago.
The Dark One and the Saviour and Emma were not, in fact, separate parts of her mind. They were not three different entities or different personalities. They were not three clashing beings.
They were one.
And as Emma came to realize that, something happened. She didn't know what exactly, but it was like she had been hit by a bus—sudden clarity. These parts, fractions, of her mind were what she was made up of. They weren't strangers or outsiders—they were her.
Yes, the Darkness had seeped into her very soul. It had taken a piece of her away, but at the same time it had made her whole. The Saviour and the Dark One coexisted in harmony and she was both. The Saviour, Dark One, and Emma rolled into one mind and body.
These three pieces of her weren't fighting for dominance or control, she recognized. They were simply learning to coexist with each other. They fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, forming a picture of all that she was and will be.
They were the Dark One—the one that represented all of her fears and flaws and doubts and insecurities.
The Saviour—the one she was expected to be; the epitome of all that was good in the world. The one everybody expected to save them.
And finally, Emma Swan. The one everyone knew and loved, with all her scars and laughter. The one that completed the set.
And these three pieces—when put together, they didn't break her. They didn't hurt her. They didn't change who she was.
No.
They completed her.
They made her whole.
Fin.