Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time

AN: Here it is, the new story. I hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you so much to GranddaughterOfCaskettAndTivia for all your help! ~ XOXO MAS

And you know the light is fading all too soon

Emma opened her eyes and groaned. "Regina?" She called out. "Robin?" They'd both been running with her down Main Street, trying to stop the Author and Gold. With another groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. "Regina?" She called out again. Her voice echoed around her strangely, so she opened her eyes. She was in a room with yellow wallpaper and sterile furniture. She was wearing what appeared to be pajama pants, a tank top, a sweater and slippers. Her hair was in tangles around her head. "What the hell happened?" She muttered.

Standing, she crossed the room to the door and twisted the handle.

Of course it was locked. Banging on it for a moment, she screamed for Hook, for Henry, for her parents, for Regina, for Robin, for anyone to come let her out.

No one responded.

Dropping to her hands and knees, she started to search the room for a bobby pin or a paperclip or anything she could use to pick the lock.

She was underneath the dresser when the door opened. "Ms. Swan, please keep it down." A stern looking woman peered down at her. "We would hate to have to sedate you. Again."

Emma's mouth gaped open. "Sedate me? Why the hell would you sedate me?" She snapped, standing up, ready to charge the woman. She could take her, she was sure of it.

"Clark!" The woman screamed out. The next moment, Emma was being pinned down while a needle slipped into her neck.

One day slipped seamlessly into the next. The routine never changing. She understood what was happening around her. She recognized the people, but she couldn't muster the strength to do anything about it.

So she stared blankly ahead, until they thought she was no longer a threat.

OUAT

She paced the room, her fingers searching the yellow wallpaper. Her own self-admitted obsession reminded her vaguely of the woman whose husband locked her in the room with yellow wallpaper. She thought people were staring her. She thought she could climb in it. Emma was certain she hadn't lost her mind quite that much, yet. If she stayed in the place for too much longer, though, she may. It helped that they thought she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. It kept the drugs at bay. She crawled around all four corners of the little room. She moved every piece of furniture that wasn't nailed to the floor. She'd stuck her fingers in every crevice. There was no way out. There was nothing to pick the lock on the door with. There was nothing to use as a weapon.

She'd check again later, after someone had been in her room to clean it. There was always the chance they'd drop something.

When she got back to Storybrooke, she was going to strangle Gold. She was going to wrap her hands around his scrawny little neck and squeeze until he turned blue in the face and keeled over from lack of oxygen. She didn't care if he was Neal's father and Henry's grandfather. The need to murder him had only been growing as the days passed.

Days without Henry.

Days without her parents.

Days without Killian.

She closed her eyes to try to block the murder out of her vision.

Instead she was met with the startling blue eyes that haunted her. They haunted her because they didn't know her.

A knock sounded at the door and it was followed by the sound of it being unlocked and swinging open. She scrambled up onto her bed, slouching against the pillows. "Good morning, Ms. Swan." She grunted in response. "Do you want to spend some time in the recreation room before your session?"

Emma glanced down at her slipper covered feet. "Why not?" She deadpanned. Without another word, she followed the nurse down the winding hallways to a room where a dozen patients sat. A few played games. Most just stared blankly out the window.

Emma chose to do the latter. She curled herself into a tiny ball and stared out the window at the rain coming down in sheets. No one else knew what was happening. No one else remembered.

She couldn't help, but to remember. It was her own punishment. To remember, to know, but to be helpless to do anything about it. She couldn't save them this time. She jerked violently and shut her eyes.

She was rewarded with a vision, a memory, one she treasured.

A little boy with brown hair and green eyes. His smile wide and bright as he leaned over the side of a modern ship.

A man, painfully handsome, with dark hair and dark scruff with just a hint of ginger, with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. His smile was warm with affection as he watched the boy. Then the eyes turned on her. They darkened, just a bit, and the smile changed. There was lust in his gaze, and something else, something she'd always been afraid to put a name to.

Love.

Her eyes flew open and she clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. It did her no good to think of her little boy. It did her no good to think of her pirate. They weren't here with her.

She was alone.

Alone and forced to spend the remainder of her life at Misthaven Institution. She wasn't sure where it was or why the Author sent them all here. She'd seen most everyone from Storybrooke somewhere in this building. She wasn't sure why some were patients and some were nurses and some were doctors. She was sure that none remembered. None aside from herself.

And Henry was nowhere to be found.

Her parents were down in isolation. She'd heard two orderlies discussing Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan. It seemed the Author separated them once again. She had no idea where isolation was, though. The only thing she did know was that it was nowhere near Gold's office on the top floor of the building, where he sat like a mighty king ruling over his subjects.

She was going to strangle that little imp within an inch of his life, let him think he could have it back, and then strangle him some more.

Most everyone she cared for, though, they were patients. Regina, Elsa (the bastard had torn her from Arendelle and forced her here because she was a hero and he and the Author were cowardly little men), Tink, Ruby, even Whale. She'd seen Robin around. He appeared to be a doctor. With a wedding band on his left hand. She was fairly certain Regina hadn't put it there. It curdled her blood to think that Zelena probably sported a matching one.

"Ms. Swan?" That same voice echoed above her head. "It's time for your session with Dr. Jones," she chirped.

Emma's eyes shut painfully again. Then there was Killian. He was her therapist.

And he had no idea who she was.

OUAT

Emma hated this more than she hated staring out the window at the perpetual rain. She hated this more than she hated picking at the yellow wallpaper or combing the floor for a bobby pin or a paper clip. She hated it more than she hated pretending to be unaware when nurses and orderlies were around. She hated it more than she'd hated Regina when she'd first met the woman. She hated it more than she hated her trip back in time when her parents didn't know her and she'd thought her mother died. She hated it more than watching Neal die. She hated it more than almost everything she'd ever been through.

She stalled in the doorway for a moment.

She wanted to go in, she wanted to see him. She wanted to reach out to him, to trace his mouth with her fingers, to brush her lips over his scar, to bring his head down to hers and kiss him senseless. She wanted to feel her body mold to his in a way that was so familiar, yet always something new and special.

At the same time, she didn't want to go in. She didn't want to see him, to look into his too blue eyes and have him not recognize her. To have him study her like a lab rat. To have him look at her with pity, rather than the admiration and unwavering support (and lust) that usually encompassed a single look from him. She didn't want to be in the same room as him and have him not automatically reach for her. Every time they were in the same space, they were touching. His hand in hers, his arm over her shoulder, his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair. She didn't want to be in a room with him and not be able to feel that little zing of energy.

"Good morning, Ms. Swan." A voice echoed from inside the room. The nurse shoved her in the room and the door shut behind her. She turned to lean her forehead against the cool wood, taking a few deep breaths to prepare herself before she turned around to face him. "Are we having a rough day, already?" She hated it. She hated the timber of his voice and his kind and understanding words.

Mostly, she hated the way he looked at her. Like she was just another patient. Another crazy person in need of his clinical help. There was no lust in his gaze. There was no love in his eyes. She swallowed hard and turned. "Yes," she answered honestly. She kept her eyes pasted to the floor. "I miss my life. I'm worried about my son. I miss Henry so much," her voice cracked. "I miss my parents and my friends. I'm worried about all of them. We shouldn't be apart like this." She paused. "And I miss my-" a small sob ripped its way out of her throat. She clamped her mouth shut and breathed in through her nose, letting her eyes shoot up, she finally said, "I miss the man I love."

She wished he could read her mind. He always said she was an open book, but it seemed like this curse or this realm or wherever the hell it was that the Author put them in had made it so Killian couldn't read any part of her.

He cleared his throat. "Please, Ms. Swan, have a seat." She hated that he called her 'Ms. Swan' instead of 'Emma,' 'Swan,' 'Love,' 'Darling,' 'Lass,' or any other terms of endearment he used for her. He motioned to the couch in the room. With a resigned sigh, she trudged to it, laying down just like a stereotypical patient in an old movie. He took a seat in a leather chair with a tall back. He leaned forward, towards her and clasped his hands together and she knew what he was about to say. Today, more so than on most days, she didn't want to hear it. She couldn't bear to hear it. "Ms. Swan, you don't have a son," he reminded her softly. "And your parents, well, the left you on the side of a highway when you were just a newborn. It's likely they were teenagers at the time," he reminded her. "As for your friends..." he smiled softly at her. "Have you considered making friends with the other patients?" Her mind flicked over to Elsa, who had been staring at the wall, the light that usually accompanied the blond gone. She saw Tink, who had picked a leaf off of one of the trees in the recreation room and was folding it into different shapes. She finally saw Regina. She looked dead inside as she stared down at a blank piece of paper, a crayon limply held in her hand.

She was going to murder Gold when she got him back home. Perhaps, she would beat him over the head with his own cane. It seemed a bit like justice to her.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Don't you get tired of repeating the same bullshit to me every session?" She snapped, sitting up quickly. "And for the last time, those are my friends, but they don't remember who they are. You don't remember who you are." Her voice rose with her anger, as she continued to think of all the people she loved suffering and of Henry, who was all alone out there somewhere thinking no one loved him enough to come find him.

She would find him. She would always find him.

Killian nodded slowly, giving her a moment to get her breathing and anger under control. He watched as she breathed slowly through it, in through her nose and out through her mouth. It startled him that she was so good at controlling her emotions, at reigning them in. It was as if she thought something could potentially combust if she didn't. "I thought you'd given up on your fairytale theory?" He asked with an arched brow.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, resignation in her posture. "I got tired of arguing with you. We hadn't argued in so long. I forgot how much I hated it. How much better it is when we get along and are on the same team." She picked a thread on the hem of her sweater. "Never mind," she finally decided. "It's obvious that you can't help me, so why bother anymore. At this rate, I'll never see Henry again." Her voice stuck in her throat and she clenched her hands against the cushions next to her, digging her fingers into the sides, letting the rough fabric scrape against the backs of her hands. "I'll never be with you, the real you, again either." She sighed again, bringing her clenched fists up to her lap. "So what's the point?" She curled up into a ball, tucking her hands into her sweater, as if to protect herself from an attack. "I think I'd like to go back to my room now. I'm not in the mood to discuss this any further." She jumped slightly and held her hands out in front of her and stared at them. After a moment she dropped them. "Please get the nurse," she requested.

Killian stared at her. Just a slip of a woman who was more lost than any of the other patients at Misthaven. Sighing, he tossed his notepad on the table and moved to the phone, punching in a few numbers before murmuring that his session was wrapping up early and he needed someone to escort Ms. Swan back to her room.

When the door to her room shut behind her and the lock clicked in place. She sighed in relief and pulled the paper clip out of her sweater.

She was getting out of here.

OUAT

Killian picked up the chart on Emma Swan. She'd been here for years. Since she was eighteen years old, recently released from prison after suffering a mental breakdown in a public place. The state had been the one to commit her. She had no friends or relatives.

She'd denied this story in its entirety. She'd spun him a tale of sadness in the foster system, meeting a man name Neal, having his baby in prison, meeting this child when he was ten, then finding out she was actually the Savior and from another realm called the Enchanted Forest.

And he was bloody Captain Hook and her true love.

She was so honest and convincing when she said it that he almost found himself believing her. There was something in her eyes when she looked at him. She looked at him like he was the center of her world, like he could actually save her. When something would draw him away from her earnest emerald gaze and he'd be shaken back into reality, her entire face would crumple. He could see the devastation in her eyes that her reality wasn't true.

The woman was clearly delusional, more than likely a fascinating case study, but instead he found himself fighting his attraction to her. Yes, she was unnaturally beautiful, but she was a mental patient. She was crazy. She was prone to screaming fits of hysteria. She claimed she had magic and would eliminate them all. She said she'd killed Cruella De Vil and she could do it again if someone threatened her or her son.

The woman may be attractive, but that did not outweigh just how crazy she was.

He shook his head, jotting down a request that Dr. Locksley see her instead of him for her next session. Maybe someone else could get somewhere with her.

OUAT

XOXO

MAS