Author's Note: This was written for a prompt on Tumblr that was as follows: I was listening to Martina McBride's Concrete Angel recently & it made me think about Emma standing outside the school waiting for Henry, she spots a little girl, & something about her prompts Emma to speak to her & she realized the kid was being beaten by her father. She takes the girl to the station, calls in the dad to 'talk' to him. Guy's an ass, Emma busts his head & puts him in a cell, Regina's pissed at first she walked in & didn't know what was going on, but then they bond over it. I've changed the prompt just slightly, but tried to stay true to it and to the feelings I get from the song that inspired it.
WARNING: This story deals, rather heavily at times, with abuse, specifically child abuse and also mentions of domestic violence. It mentions physical, verbal, mental, and sexual abuse. There is also some violence between adults. Please do not read if this will in any way trigger you.
Emma notices it that first day, although she doesn't realize it until much later. But there's something about the way Paige looks down and avoids eye contact, even after she's smiled and said hello, that registers with her.
It settles, along with the gloves and scarf that were probably a bit too much for the mild weather of the day, in the back of her mind. And each time she sees Paige, another little piece is added to the puzzle that she doesn't even realize is slowly coming together.
She forgets about Paige in the aftermath of the curse breaking.
She's more concerned with her son nearly dying and everyone regaining their memories, only to lose them all again when the purple mist finally evaporates.
She spends the weeks after trying to ascertain what people know and where Gold has disappeared to, but it seems that whatever moments of remembrance and clarity they had after she'd woken Henry were quickly wiped away by the purple smoke that she's sure Gold let loose.
Only she and Henry and Regina seem to know what really happened, who they all really are, and in many ways, she's okay with that. It's far easier to look at Mary Margaret and see her best friend than to look at her and try to reconcile herself with the fact that this is the woman who should've been her mother.
It's harder with Regina, knowing who she is and what she's done, but she doesn't doubt Regina's love for Henry (she never really has) and even Henry himself seems to have warmed up to her after the declaration she'd made in the hospital. So they settle into a weird sort of truce, an almost familial unit, where Henry still lives with Regina, but Emma is allowed far more access to him with far less fighting.
There's still worry and suspicion, but after two months with no other magical happenings, with no dragons or purple smoke or poisoned apples (although she's steering clear of all things apple related for a while just in case), Emma finally feels herself begin to relax.
And that's when the pieces all finally come together.
It's a long, hot summer, and by mid-July Emma is ready to never leave the pool that had seemed to magically appear in Regina's backyard (although the former queen swears that magic had nothing to do with it, and from the complaints from Leroy and some of the other guys about what a slave driver Regina is, Emma believes her).
Her only complaint comes from Henry's boundless energy and his need to constantly splash and horse around with her, which is really the only reason she thinks she's allowed to come swim so much. Regina, she's noticed, steers clear of the pool when Henry is in it, and instead enjoys taking early morning or late night dips.
"Seriously, kid, why don't you invite some friends over to swim with you? I'm sure they'd be much more fun than I am." She finally suggests one day after she's been dunked one too many times.
Henry shrugs. "Like who?"
It's obvious the kid doesn't have many friends, but if Emma learned one thing growing up in the system, it's that the rich kids who have the cool toys (or pools as the case may be) always have more friends than they realize. "What about Ava and Nicholas?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Swan, let's invite those hooligans over so that they can steal my fine china on the way out." Regina drawls from her spot on the deck.
Emma shoots her a look. "They haven't gotten into any more trouble since they were reunited with their father, Regina." And even though she doesn't mention it directly, the look she gives Regina is enough of a reminder of why the kids were causing problems in the first place that Regina clamps her lips shut and glares at Emma.
Henry nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."
"And there's Paige." Emma suggests, her mind finally going back to the little girl, as it begins to sink in that if Jefferson was right about everything else then that meant –
"Nah, I doubt she'd come." Henry says, cutting off Emma's revelation.
"What? Why?"
"I don't think she can swim. When our class went to the pool last year she sat out. Didn't bring a suit or anything. Plus, her parents don't really let her go to other kids' houses or anything. They're really protective, I guess. But Ava and Nicholas would be cool. I'm gonna go call them."
"Don't trail water all through the house." Regina scolds gently, seeming to take no notice to what Henry has said about Paige.
But Emma notices and her mind starts working overtime.
"What can you tell me about Paige Baker?" Emma asks Mary Margaret that night over dinner.
The teacher – her mother – looks puzzled for a second. "Paige? Well, she's a sweet little girl. A very good student. Quiet. Why?"
Emma ponders these answers and then shrugs. "Just wondering."
Jefferson looks defeated as he opens the door to her. The hint of madness that had been in his eyes is gone and has been replaced with a dull, dead look. Emma almost feels sorry for him, until she remembers what he did to her. Although, she supposes, he was right about the curse, but not about holding her hostage. "What do you want, Emma?"
"Tell me about Paige." She says, still not sure if Jefferson even remembers, or if his memories have been wiped too.
"Grace." He corrects automatically, with just a hint of a growl in his voice, and Emma knows the answer to her question now. Jefferson still remembers. "Her name is Grace."
"Okay." Emma concedes, already thinking about the gun in the holster on her hip. "Tell me about Grace."
"Why do you care? You're on her side. She's poisoned you, like she's poisoned everyone else. You know the truth, but you won't do anything about it."
"Jefferson, I'm not on anyone's side but my own. Now, are you gonna tell me about her, or am I gonna leave?"
For a man who watches Paige – Grace – as closely as Jefferson apparently does, he misses a lot. He only sees her as a happy child, living with a family that loves her but isn't him. Emma sees so much more than that.
But maybe that's part of his curse, Emma surmises as she leaves the mansion and climbs into her cruiser, to not be able to see what is becoming clearer and clearer to her.
Or maybe, it's not a curse at all.
Maybe it's better that he doesn't see.
Yet another school year and Henry is once again in Mary Margaret's class. Time may have started moving when she arrived, but it seems that some things still don't change. Emma's actually thankful for it in this instance, as Paige is once again in Henry's class. It makes it easier to observe the little girl when she walks Henry to school or picks him up or stops by his class to drop things off.
And now the pieces are so clear, the signs so blindingly obvious, that Emma wonders how it is that it took her this long to realize what was always there.
Although, she supposes, when you don't want to see something, it's very easy to ignore it. And she certainly didn't want to see this.
Not this.
Never this.
"Hi, Paige." She offers with a smile as the young girl crosses the school yard.
The flinch is so minute she's sure no one else would've picked up on it. "Oh. Hi, Sheriff Swan."
"Everything okay? School going well?" She keeps her voice light, making sure to stay a safe distance from the girl who is already carefully shifting further away from her.
"Yes, ma'am." Paige replies, her eyes downcast, before she quickly hurries into the school.
Emma's heart aches.
She makes it her job to be sure she speaks to Paige every day. It's never a long conversation, the girl is always eager to get away from the scrutiny, but as the days wear on, she notices that Paige is slowly relaxing around her.
In fact, she's just managed to wrangle a giggle out of the girl, when a shadow falls across her face. "Paige, are you bothering Sheriff Swan?"
Paige seems to collapse in on herself then and it takes all of Emma's self control to look Mr. Baker in the eye and smile at him as he comes to stand beside his – no, Jefferson's – daughter. "No, not at all. In fact, it's probably me that's bothering her."
"Oh, I doubt that very much." Mr. Baker smiles at her, but Emma doesn't see it. All she sees is the way he is gripping Paige's arm. "Come along, Paige, we don't want to bother Sheriff Swan while she's working."
And before Emma can so much as protest, the two are gone.
Paige isn't in the school yard the next morning.
Emma drives repeatedly by the house where she knows the little girl lives, but everything is dark.
She stops by Mary Margaret's classroom with cupcakes (that she picked up from the bakery, hoping to see either Mr. or Mrs. Baker working, but neither was there) for which she doesn't even give an excuse for. She just drops them on the small table in the front of the room, her eyes stuck on the one unoccupied desk in the classroom.
She forces herself to smile and eat the extra cupcake – Paige's cupcake – after prodding from Mary Margaret and Henry.
She throws it up in the alley beside the still dark Baker house not ten minutes later.
She doesn't give Jefferson time to question her presence in his mansion, just pushes past him, moving towards the telescope that she knows he'll have pointed at the place where Paige should be.
"Have you seen her today?" She asks, as she takes in a darkened room through the lens of the telescope. She thinks that maybe there's a lump in the bed, that Paige could just be sleeping (please, god, just let her be sleeping), but she can't tell for sure.
"She's sleeping."
"She wasn't at school today." Emma persists, trying not to tip her hand too much, but knowing she's already tumbling over the edge and beyond the point of caring any more.
Maybe he needs to know. Maybe someone else needs to know.
Jefferson nods, but looks at her with eyes that show his suspicion. "She was sick. Stayed in bed, cuddled with her white rabbit all day."
There's something in his voice when he says 'white rabbit', something that's both viscous and full of pain. Emma wants to ask him about it, but can't bring herself to. She also can't seem to bring herself to ask the question that's burning on the tip of her tongue.
"So you're sure she's alive?"
Instead she just nods and moves away from him, back out the door as quickly as she came. She likes to pretend that he'd know if something had happened to her. Parents are supposed to know, aren't they?
But, that awful voice in the back of her head reminds her, he doesn't know about any of the rest of it.
She doesn't go to the school yard the next morning. She doesn't want to see if Paige is still missing.
Instead she waits at the house for him and Regina that afternoon, barely letting them in the door before she starts questioning him about his day. She's mostly tuning out his rambling though, waiting for the opportunity to ask about Paige as though it's something she always does, when his words skitter across her brain and make her head snap up.
"And I got to sign Paige's cast."
"Her cast?" She's looking at him too intently, she knows, but she can't stop herself.
"Yeah." He replies, staring at her with confusion. "She fell and broke her wrist. That's why she wasn't at school yesterday. But she's okay now and has a cool cast. Well, I mean, it's pink, so it's not that cool, but…"
"She broke her wrist? How?"
"I dunno. She said she fell. It's no big deal."
"Right." Emma nods, forcing her voice to sound normal. "No big deal."
"Henry told me that Paige broke her wrist?" Emma says as casually as she can while eating dinner that night.
"Oh, yes, poor thing. She's so clumsy." Mary Margaret smiles as she spins spaghetti noddles around her fork.
"Really?"
"Mm. She's always coming to school with silly little injuries."
Emma's stomach turns. "You call a broken wrist a silly little injury?" She tries to make it sound like she's joking.
"Oh, well, no, of course not. But the other things are just silly. Scrapes and bruises, you know."
Emma does her best not to let her jaw fall open. "So, she, uh, gets hurt a lot?"
Mary Margaret shrugs. "Oh, probably no more so than any other child her age."
"But you said she's clumsy? So, what, does she walk into desks or fall on the playground or…?"
"Oh, no. Nothing like that."
"Then why'd you say she was clumsy?"
Mary Margaret's brow furrows as she looks at Emma, trying to understand where these questions are coming from. "That's what she always says. That she's clumsy when she's at home."
At home.
Emma wants to cry out, to grab Mary Margaret and shake her until she sees what's really going on. She wants to rail against her because she's a teacher for god's sake and aren't teachers supposed to be aware of these things? Aren't they supposed to know? Isn't it their duty to tell someone when things look suspicious?
But then, she reminds herself, Mary Margaret isn't really a teacher, not the way other teachers in the real world are. She didn't go to school or get a degree or have any kind of actual training. Regina's curse just stuck her in that role. (And none of her real world teachers had ever helped her, so maybe this isn't that uncommon after all). Besides, Mary Margaret – sweet, innocent Mary Margaret – probably can't even comprehend the idea of violence, let alone abuse.
So she just offers her a smile and changes the subject, but when she lifts the spaghetti to her mouth and sees the red drips of the sauce as it falls from her fork, she finds that she's lost her appetite altogether.
She spends so much time 'patrolling' the Bakers' neighborhood – and thanking whatever possible deities there might be that Mrs. Thompson, the librarian that had finally started doing her job now that the library was no longer hiding a dragon's lair, lives right down the street and has a cat that keeps escaping and climbing trees which gives her the perfect excuse to be in the neighborhood – that Emma knows the Bakers' routine inside and out in no time.
It's why she waits until Friday evening when she knows Mr. Baker will be at the bakery taking inventory for the following week and squaring up the books to show up on their doorstep. It's still a risk, but she feels fairly certain she can get Paige away from Mrs. Baker if she plays her cards right.
The woman is certainly surprised – and perhaps a bit frightened – to see her on the doorstep when she pulls the door open. "Sheriff Swan! I – I – what can I do for you?"
Emma offers her an easy smile, even as she wants to slap the woman's face. "Good evening, Mrs. Baker. Is Paige at home?"
"Oh, I, uh –" there's panic in the woman's eyes. She doesn't know what to say without her husband putting the words in her mouth, of that Emma is sure. It's exactly what Emma was depending on.
"Yes." She finally manages to spit out, if only because Paige chooses that moment to walk into Emma's line of sight.
The little girl looks just as surprised as her mother to see Emma on their front porch. She also looks slightly worried, but Emma just continues to smile easily. "Hi, Paige."
"Hello, Sheriff Swan." Paige replies softly, keeping her eyes down and making no move to come any closer to Emma.
"I was just wondering if Paige would like to accompany Henry and me to the movies tonight? It's a special thing we do on Friday nights and Henry's always allowed to bring a friend. He'd really love it if Paige could come tonight."
Paige's eyes widen as her gaze flits between her mother and Emma.
"Oh, well, I don't know." Mrs. Baker is practically squirming. "I mean, I'm sure Paige has to do her homework and –"
Bingo. Emma's smile widens. "Actually, the kids don't have any homework this weekend. I already checked with both Henry and Miss Blanchard. So unless there's some other reason why Paige can't come with us…" here, Emma makes sure to look at Paige's cast and then back at Mrs. Baker.
Mrs. Baker's face blanches. "Oh, no, Sheriff, of course not. I just – well, with her wrist, it's not exactly easy for her to do some things and – and well, we don't have a whole lot of extra cash right now and I – I certainly don't want to upset Henry but I –"
Emma waves the words away. "I'm sure Paige will be fine just watching the movie. She can eat her popcorn with just one hand. And besides being sheriff, I was also a kid once. Broke my own wrist. I know how take care of it. As for the money, we're inviting Paige. Of course she won't have to pay for anything, it's our treat. So," Emma's eyes meet Mrs. Baker's in challenge, "can she come?"
"O-of course. As long as she wants to. Paige?" Mrs. Baker turns, her voice cracking and her look showing that Paige's denial is her last hope.
The little girl looks conflicted and nearly petrified. Emma offers her a true, warm smile as she mouths the words "it's okay" and slowly nods her head. Paige closes her eyes, then opens them and nods. "Sure, I'd love to."
Emma's smile widens as Paige moves around her mother and comes out to stand – hide – behind her. "Perfect."
Paige looks up, startled, as Emma pulls the cruiser into a parking spot at the police station and not the movie theatre. "Sheriff Swan?"
Emma gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "I lied to your mother, Paige."
Paige's eyes go wide with fear, her hand already reaching for the door handle.
"Wait." Emma says softly. "Please."
Paige hesitates then, but it's obvious that she's still frightened, still ready to bolt at any second.
"I'm sorry that I lied. Not that I lied to her, but that I lied to you. But it was the only way I knew to get you out of that house, away from them. And I am going to take you to watch a movie with Henry, just as soon as we're done here."
"Sheriff Swan, please, I –" Paige doesn't know what she's asking for, just that she wants out of this situation.
Emma sighs softly. "I know that you didn't fall and break your wrist. I know that you're not clumsy. Are you?"
Paige closes her eyes against the tears that are welling up.
"I know that you're so afraid right now, of what they're going to do when you get home. Of what your punishment will be this time. But I promise, Paige, I am here to help you."
"Please, stop." And it's so easy, those words slipping out of her mouth, that Emma wants to throw up.
She swallows hard to quell her nausea and then opens her own car door. "Just come inside with me for a few minutes, please. And then I'll take you back if you want."
Paige flinches at that but gets out of the car.
Emma knows that she's going to do everything she can to be sure that Paige never sets foot in that house again.
When they get inside the station, she guides Paige to the chair beside her desk. She doesn't want this to feel at all like an interrogation, like Paige is in any kind of trouble, but she also needs to do this somewhere safe, and the police station is her domain.
She looks at the little girl who looks so small and broken sitting in her chair and her breath catches. She's reminded again of just how young Paige is. She's just a little girl. Only 10, just the same as Henry. And not for the first time, Emma finds herself thankful for the fact that she'd never had to worry about this with Henry. Regina may be strict and overbearing, but Emma knows without a doubt that Regina would never hurt him like this. That the same cannot be said about Paige makes her want to weep.
"Paige," she starts quietly, "you're safe here. It's just you and me. No one else. Whatever happens here, whatever is said, it's just between us. No one else will ever know about it if you don't want them to. Okay? I swear."
"Okay." Paige whispers.
"Okay." Emma smiles. "Now, can you tell me what really happened to your wrist?"
"I fell and –"
Emma shakes her head. "Paige, I know that's not what happened. You didn't break your wrist, did you? Your dad did."
"No. No, I –"
"That's not all he's done either, is it? Other times you've been hurt, times you've just said you were clumsy, it wasn't you that was clumsy was it?"
Paige squeezes her eyes shut.
"There are other injuries, aren't there? Cuts and bruises that you hide, that he makes sure to make where they can be hidden. Will you show me?"
She shakes her head, her eyes still scrunched closed.
"Is it just him? Just your father? Or does your mother –"
"No." Paige denies and Emma believes her then.
"But she knows, doesn't she? And she doesn't do anything to stop it."
Paige's eyes fly open then, wide and with just a hint of anger in them. "No one does! Not her, not Miss Blanchard, not – not anyone. Because he's right. I'm not worth it. I'm bad. No one would want to help me, because I deserve it. I deserve it!"
"Oh honey, no. No, you certainly do not deserve this."
"No one cares." Paige whispers.
"I do." Emma says, trying to make the little girl understand. "I care. And I want to help you. But you have to tell me. You have to show me."
Paige shakes her head. "I can't, Sheriff Swan. I just can't."
"Yes, you can. I know you can. You're stronger than you know."
Paige looks up with tears pooling in her eyes. "No, I'm not. And you don't understand what you're asking. No one understands."
"Yes, I do." Emma says vehemently, catching Paige's eye. "Paige," she turns then, lifting her shirt up and exposing the scars on her back. "I do."
The marks Paige reveals to her are horrifying, far more so than her own scars because that's all hers were - scars. But Paige's marks are real, fresh reminders of the horrors she's living through each day. The mottled purple bruises – or bruise, she should say, because they all run together so that it's nearly impossible to tell where one starts and another ends - on her torso make Emma wonder how the girl is even able to move and the lacerations and scars on her back tell Emma that Mr. Baker likes to use his belt even before Paige does. Emma is certain that the bruises on Paige's upper arms would match Mr. Baker's handprints perfectly if she ever let the bastard near her again to check.
She's thankful – and her stomach twists as she even thinks that there could possibly be anything to be thankful about in all of this, but there is, at least, in this one thing – that Paige's thighs have been left untouched, that Paige swears she's been his punching bag, but nothing else. She's not sure what she would've done if that hadn't been the case.
"Oh, sweetheart," Emma whispers as she carefully brushes back Paige's hair, noticing the tiny scars along her hairline, probably from having her head cut or knocked open, "how long has this been going on?"
Paige's answer chills her, not because of the pain in her voice or the tears streaming down her face, but because she knows that with time being frozen, it's terrifyingly true.
"Forever."
"Who hurt you?" Paige asks after her shirt is back in place and she's gathered her armor back around herself.
Emma wants to deflect the question, to ignore it until it goes away, but she knows that she can't. Not now. Not with Paige. So she shakes her head and swallows back the bile that is already rising.
"Uh, well, I had some foster parents who, uh, who thought I was a handful that could use, uh," her voice cracks as she struggles against the onslaught of memories, "breaking."
Paige's eyes widen. "Breaking?"
"Like a horse." One tear slips down her cheek. "Like an animal."
Paige's little hand slips into hers and squeezes. "And the burns?"
She thinks of the scars from the cigarette burns that still litter her back and the ones that Paige hasn't seen that are scattered on her thighs. "One of my, uh, boyfriends liked to smoke."
She doesn't say what else her boyfriends liked to do, not wanting Paige to know of those atrocities when she can be spared, and not wanting to admit that she'd allowed the cycle to continue for far too long before she managed to break away.
"No one helped you, did they?"
"No. No one helped me." Emma turns to face Paige, squeezing the hand in hers. "But I am going to help you. I'm not going to let him touch you ever again, Paige. I promise."
Paige wraps her arms around Emma and finally allows the tears to fall then. Emma just holds her, rocking her as she cries.
By the time they arrive at Granny's, Paige is completely pulled back together. Besides her pink cast, nothing seems at all amiss about her. She turns to Emma with a questioning look, but the sheriff just smiles.
"I promise that Henry and a movie are waiting for you inside."
So is Ruby, who has been given strict orders that once Emma gets Paige and Henry settled into the room she'd rented for the night at the B&B, she is to allow no one else but Emma back into it.
She's determined to keep Paige safe and out of harm's way and this had been her best option. Taking her to Regina's had crossed Emma's mind, but she's not entirely sure of exactly how much of a part Regina has played in this whole mess and she isn't taking Paige into a lion's den. Mary Margaret's had been another thought, but she worried that the teacher would give in far too easily if Mr. or Mrs. Baker had come knocking. Ruby, on the other hand, would watch over Henry and Paige with the tenacity of a wolf, and that is exactly what she needs.
"Paige!" Henry grins excitedly as they enter the biggest of the rooms in the B&B. The big screen TV is already on and Henry appears to be playing Ruby in a video game.
"Hi, Henry. Miss Lucas." Paige says softly, sticking close to Emma's side.
"Please, kid, it's Ruby." Ruby tells her with a smirk as she stands, but she seems to notice Paige's reluctance and offers her a genuine smile.
Emma kneels down so that she's facing Paige. "You're gonna stay here with Henry and Ruby. You're gonna watch movies and play video games and pig out on room service and have a ton of fun. And you're going to be safe. Ruby is going to watch over you, she's going to take care of you, and she isn't going to let anyone but me back into this room, okay?"
Paige glances at the waitress and then turns back to Emma and nods. "Okay."
Emma smiles and gently smoothes back her hair. "Okay. It's all gonna be okay. I promise. You're safe now, and you're going to stay that way."
Paige hugs Emma tightly once more and then moves over to the couch where Henry shows her the giant stack of DVDs that they can pick from, as well as the spread of junk food that's already laid out on the coffee table.
"Emma, what's going on?" Ruby asks as she looks at the two children on the couch.
"I'll tell you later, Rubes, I promise. But for now, I need you to swear to me that you will let no one else into this room but me. Not even Regina. And especially not Mr. or Mrs. Baker."
"Of course, Em." Ruby nods emphatically, suddenly getting a sense as to what is going on. "I'll take care of her and you'll take care of the rest?"
Emma nods, her face deadly serious. "Absolutely."
It's easy to get Mr. Baker down to the station. All she has to do is say she's at the station and mention Paige's name and he's already on his way, hanging up before Emma can say anything else – not that she planned to anyway.
His eyes are blazing as he bursts into the station and Emma knows that look well. It's one that still haunts her dreams occasionally. "Where is my daughter? What has she done?"
"It's not what she's done, Mr. Baker." Emma tells him, her tone hard. "It's what you've done."
"Excuse me?"
"Why don't you step into the conference room and we can finish this conversation there?"
He looks ready to protest, to rage against her, but then he seems to remember where he is and who is standing in front of him and he calms down. "Okay."
She motions him into the room, shutting the door behind her and gesturing to one of the chairs at the table.
"Where is Paige?" He asks again, once he is seated.
"Somewhere safe." Is all that Emma says, already opening a manila folder sitting on the table. She slides a picture across the table to him. It's of Paige's cast. "You wanna tell me how Paige came to be wearing that cast?"
Baker looks at her as though she's lost her mind. "She fell at home. What is this about, Sheriff Swan?"
"She fell? So this was purely an accident?"
"Yes. Children have accidents. Is that somehow a crime?"
Emma laughs bitterly. "No. No, accidents aren't a crime. So tell me, was this from an accident too?" Now she slides the picture she took of Paige's bruised torso across to him.
"What is this?" He asks and damn, but he's good. She could almost believe that he really doesn't know. In fact, if she hadn't seen that same look on the faces of her foster parents time and again, she probably would believe him.
But she had seen that look. And she doesn't believe a word coming out of his mouth.
"That's your daughter. Or should I say your punching bag?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Sheriff Swan, but I don't think I like what you're implying."
"You don't like what I'm implying? How do you think your daughter likes it when you beat her with a belt? Or don't you know about these marks either?" She tosses the picture of Paige's back at him now.
"This is ludicrous. All of this is lies and slander and I will have your job –"
"You will have nothing, when I am done with you!" Emma hisses.
Baker stands, shoving in his chair. "You have no proof of anything. These pictures are obviously doctored."
"Maybe they are. But I've got hospital records that detail Paige's injuries over the years and let me tell you, I'm starting to see a pattern in them. Not only that, but Paige's teacher will testify to plenty of occasions where Paige came to school injured and said her injuries occurred at home. For someone who's supposedly clumsy, it's strange that she's only clumsy at home, don't you think?"
"This is bullshit. If you talk to my daughter and my wife, they'll clear all this up in just a few seconds." Baker begins pacing.
"Funny you should mention that. Because I was just talking to your daughter about an hour ago when I took these photos and she told me all about exactly how she got each and every mark on her body. I can play the tape for you if you'd like to hear it. And I'm betting that once your wife finds out I've got you locked up for child abuse and I'm coming after her as an accessory, she'll fold like a house of cards. So, you wanna try this again?"
The mask finally falls and Emma can clearly see Baker for what he truly is. A monster.
"That little bitch. When I get my hands on her –" He seethes, his glare turning murderous.
That's all it takes for the last little thread that Emma's been holding on to all of these years to snap. She isn't even aware of exactly what happens, just that one minute, she's on the opposite side of the interrogation table from Baker and in the next, she's slammed him up against the one way mirror so hard, the glass has shattered.
"You will never touch her again, you son of bitch!" She screams, slamming him against the glass again and again. The sound of it shattering and falling to shards at her feet only serves to further enrage her as her sense memory takes over. "Never!"
"Get off me!" He's bigger than her and should be able to overpower her easily, but as he tries to gain the upper hand and push her off him, he finds that he can't. Her hold is too tight, her rage making her stronger than him.
"How does it feel when you have someone who fights back, huh? Not so fun, is it?" Emma rails as she begins throwing punches at his face with one hand, while the other is jammed against his throat. All she can see is red. "She couldn't fight back. She couldn't make you stop. She was just a little girl! But I can. I can! It's your turn to beg for mercy and be ignored!"
And suddenly it's not just Baker that she's got pressed against the wall, but it's everyone in the past who ever hurt her. She can't tell what's real and what's just a memory, but all she knows is that she's finally fighting back. She's finally making it stop.
She doesn't even hear the door to the room open. It's only the sound of Regina's voice – more high pitched that usual – that cuts through her haze. "What the hell is going on in here?"
She blinks hard until the redness and the tears and the memories finally fade, leaving her with only the image of Baker, battered and bloodied in front of her.
"This is assault! Police brutality. I want her badge." He manages to wheeze out, but it's obvious that even that is a struggle for him.
"Sheriff Swan –" Regina starts, but as Emma turns, the expression on her face stops her in her tracks and she says nothing else.
Emma pulls Baker from the wall and drags him out of the room and into the main office. As she shoves him into a cell, Emma's only regret is that he's still conscious.
Regina is still standing thunderstruck in the doorway of the conference room when Emma comes back.
It's only then that she notices the upturned table and realizes that she must've flipped it when she lunged for Baker. The pictures are scattered all over the floor, along with the broken glass and some blood. Emma hopes like hell that it all belongs to Baker, although her knuckles feel pretty damn raw. She hasn't looked at them yet.
"What in the hell –" Regina starts, but the sound of her voice seems to set Emma off again and the blonde whirls on her.
"Tell me you didn't have anything to do with this." She demands.
"What?" Regina is clearly taken aback.
"Tell me you didn't have anything to do with this. Tell me you didn't know. Because I swear to god, Regina if you knew – if you did this – if this was all just some sort of sick game, then I swear, I will –"
"Emma!" Regina barks her name out in an effort to get her to stop her rant. "What are you talking about?"
"This!" Emma hisses as she scoops up the pictures and shoves them at Regina. "I'm talking about this."
Regina's eyes widen at the horrific images, but Emma doesn't notice. "So you tell me, right the fuck now Regina, did you know about this? Did you do it to punish Jefferson? To make him suffer? Because you have done some fucking horrendous things and I've let them go – hell, I even let Graham go – but this – if you did this, if you thought it was funny to torment him by stealing his daughter and giving her to those bastards and allowing them to beat her –" Emma's voice breaks. By the time she manages to compose herself, Regina is already stalking out the door, her eyes blazing.
Emma knows that there's magic in Storybrooke now. She's aware of it, even if no one else is. But that doesn't mean that she is in any way prepared for the sight of Regina storming through the metal bars of Baker's cell as though they aren't even there.
She's even less prepared – although really, she should be more prepared by now, because Henry's been telling her about this for ages and ages – for Regina to shove her hand right into Baker's chest and pull out his heart.
"Aaaah!" The man cries out in pain as Regina squeezes the still beating organ in her hand.
"You think that you can beat a child and get away with it?" Regina hisses as she squeezes tighter. "You think I will allow you to harm that precious gift that I gave you? You thought you could turn me against Sheriff Swan? You will be begging for her when I am finished with you, if you are even still breathing!"
And there's a large part of Emma – so large that it scares her if she really thinks about it – that is prepared to let Regina do what she will with Baker. That part relishes the thought of watching Regina crush his heart into dust for what he has done.
But the other part – the good part, as Henry so often proclaims – knows that she has to stop her.
"Regina, enough."
Regina squeezes harder and Baker's shrieks grow louder.
"Regina! Enough!" Emma unlocks the door and pulls it open, moving in to put her hand on Regina's arm.
"He deserves to pay for what he's done."
"You're right. He does. And god knows, I'd love to watch you do it. But Regina, you can't. I won't let you have his blood on your hands."
Regina looks at her and sees the determination in her eyes. She squeezes hard one last time before thrusting the heart back into Baker's body. He slumps to the ground, barely breathing but alive.
Emma guides Regina out of the cell, making sure the foot of her boot connects with his stomach as she goes.
"I only wanted to try to make things right." Regina murmurs as they sit in the parked car outside of Granny's.
"Make things right?" Emma asks as she looks over at Regina, most of her rage and anger melted away at the recognition that is tickling at the back of her brain.
"Their daughter was taken from them and –"
"Baker." Emma says, things clicking into place. "Rapunzel. Rapunzel was their daughter."
"I knew I had to keep Jefferson and Grace separated and I thought that I would be helping them by giving them a daughter to love."
"Only they beat the shit out of her instead." Emma mutters bitterly.
"I didn't know, Emma." Regina grabs her arm. "I swear to you, if I had, I –"
Emma shakes her head and flexes her fingers on the steering wheel, feeling the blood slide over them. "It's ironic, isn't it? The story makes it seem like Rapunzel had such an awful life, locked in that tower, but in reality, her life was cake compared to Paige's."
The silence that settles over the car is suffocating, but neither woman makes a move to get out.
Finally, Regina speaks. "How did you know?"
Emma looks over, her eyes glazed, unseeing. She's lost somewhere in her own thoughts and memories. "Hmm?"
"About Paige. How did you know?"
She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "I got her away from her parents and she told me with a little coaxing. Showed me what he'd done. Let me take the pictures."
"No." Regina frowns. "Not how did you know what he'd done, but how did you know that it was happening at all? You knew before you got her away. How?"
She blinks and meets Regina's gaze, her hand already on the door handle. "It's easy when you know the signs."
Ruby eyes Regina warily through the small crack where she's opened the door until Emma steps in front of her. "It's okay, Rubes. She's with me."
The door goes closed again and she hears the sound of Ruby undoing the chain lock before she pulls open the door again. She still keeps her eyes trained on Regina.
"Everything okay?" She asks as she glances over to where Henry and Paige are still on the couch, laughing at whatever movie they're watching while they munch on popcorn and various other snacks. The room looks sort of like a disaster, but Emma doesn't have to clean it, so she doesn't really care. All she cares about is the fact that the two children are unharmed.
"Fine. They've been having a blast. No one else has been around."
"Good." She nods, then touches Ruby's shoulder. "Seriously, Rubes, it's okay."
"But you said…" Ruby frowns.
"I know what I said. But she's okay. I swear."
Ruby relaxes then, just a bit.
"Emma! Mom!" Henry exclaims then, having finally spotted them. Paige tenses up at the sight of Regina, the easy smile on her face slipping away.
Regina's heart breaks.
"Hey kid." Emma smiles as he hugs her, then passes him off to Regina as she heads toward the couch where Paige still is. "Hey kiddo."
Paige gives her a tentative smile.
"It's okay. He's behind bars. He can't hurt you any more."
"Really?" Paige's voice belies the fact that she can't believe what Emma is saying.
"Cross my heart." She smiles, drawing the x over her heart for good measure.
"So what happens now?" Paige asks, softly.
"Well, for right now, you're gonna go home with Henry and Regina."
Paige's eyes widen. "What? N-no. I – I can't. I –"
"Hey, hey." She gently grasps Paige's non-injured hand. "Nothing is going to happen, okay? You can trust Regina, just like you could trust Ruby. She will not let anything happen to you. I swear it."
"But –"
Emma offers her a conspiratorial smile. "I know she seems scary, but I promise, she's really not. She would do anything to protect you, Paige. I know it for a fact." Emma thinks of the beating red organ that Regina had held in her hand just an hour prior.
"Why can't I go with you?" Paige whimpers softly.
She brushes Paige's hair back gently. "Because I still have to go and get your – get Mrs. Baker. And I want to make sure that I know you're safe. So, can you go with Regina and Henry for me? And then, as soon as I'm done, I will come and get you."
She almost doesn't hear the word, it's so quiet. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Awesome!" Henry laughs from across the room. "Paige! Mom is going to take us for ice cream!"
"See?" She winks and smiles. "Ice cream!"
Paige manages a wobbly smile too. She hugs Emma tightly before she moves over to where Regina and Henry are.
Regina looks at the little girl and all she can see are the horrible marks from the pictures. She closes her eyes tightly, pushing everything back down inside.
"Alright." Emma rubs her hands together. "So, you guys go and get your ice cream and I'll go deal with what I need to and then I'll come over by the house. Sound good?"
"Do you want me to come with you, Emma?" Ruby asks, her gaze fixed on Emma's bloody knuckles.
"Nah. I can handle it."
Ruby and Regina both look unconvinced, but Emma waves them off. "Seriously, it'll be fine. I'd rather you go with Regina and the kids to the diner at least, make sure everything's okay there."
No one can argue with that and even if they could, Emma doesn't give them time to. She's already out the door.
Mrs. Baker folds just like Emma knew she would.
All it takes is for her to pull out the handcuffs and the whole damn house of cards comes tumbling down.
She takes great pleasure in putting her in the same cell with her husband, who is still on the floor where she left him.
"But –" Mrs. Baker tries to argue, her eyes darting from the heap on the floor that is her husband to Emma on the other side of the bars.
"You lived with him all these years. Why should now be any different?"
She doesn't stay to hear the answer.
Regina has the door open before she makes it to the porch.
"Did you get her?"
"Yep." Emma confirms. "All locked up with her loving husband. I don't think she could decide if she was horrified by how he looked or petrified that he'd wake up and beat her. I don't care either way. How are they?" She glances towards the living room, where she can just hear the muted sounds of the TV.
"Fine. Sound asleep on the couch. I was going to carry them up to bed, but I didn't want to hurt Paige."
She nods. "I'll take Paige up and stay in the guest room with her in a bit. If that's alright?"
"Of course." Regina is quick to agree. Too quick. Too easy. There's usually some comment, some snide remark, some look of disgust. But tonight there's nothing.
She frowns.
"You got any of that apple cider? We need to talk. And I need a drink."
Emma throws her entire first glass of cider back in one gulp, as though it's a shot. She holds the second one untouched as she looks at Regina perched in her usual chair, looking so very different than before.
Before, when she didn't know, it was easy to believe the woman could've been a queen in another life. Now that she does know, she wouldn't guess it in a million years. Not the way she looks tonight.
"You have your magic." She says finally, and it's not a question.
"Yes." Regina confirms needlessly.
"Good. In the morning, you're going to heal Paige. You're going to get rid of every cut, every bruise, every scar." She doesn't ask if this is possible, if it's something Regina is even capable of, because in this matter she will accept nothing less. "And then you're going to give Jefferson what he's always wanted – a new story, a fresh start. You're going to erase all the bad memories for both of them and give them a chance to be happy together here. They will be like everyone else in this town. Unaware. Do you understand?"
If it were anyone else making these demands, Regina would have thrown them across the room by now with a simple flick of her hand at the very least. But it isn't anyone else and knowing what she knows now, she cannot refuse Emma Swan anything.
"Yes."
"Good." She knocks back a good swig of the cider, enjoying the burn that she hadn't even felt on her first drink.
"And what of the Bakers?"
"You'll make sure no one remembers that they used to be Paige's parents and they'll rot in jail, where they belong." She snorts. "Hell, you can throw them down in your loony bin if you want."
"What I want is to tear out their hearts and crush them to dust in my hands. His especially." Regina murmurs, her voice darker than Emma's ever heard. It's the first time she's truly gotten a glimpse of the Evil Queen that Regina used to be.
She shakes her head. "I've already told you, I'm not letting you get his blood –"
"His blood would be welcome on my hands!" Regina roars. "Unlike yours and hers, which are already there."
Emma stares at her. "Why would you think that our blood is on your hands? You didn't –"
"It is my fault, what happened to both of you. I caused your parents to send you away. I put her into that house. If I hadn't –"
"Regina," She finds herself reaching out, grasping the hands that Regina thinks are stained with her blood. "You are not to blame for what happened to either of us."
Regina looks away, refusing to acknowledge what Emma has said.
"Look at me." Emma demands. "You have done a lot of horrible things, okay? I will be the first to list your sins and you know that. But you did not cause what happened to Paige or me, okay? Yes, you may have cursed an entire realm, but it was my parents who sent me away. They made that choice, not you. And there's some blame for me in there, too, believe me."
"What?" Regina's head whips up then.
She shrugs. "Maybe I couldn't fight back at first but… there was a time when I should've known better, when I should've stopped things, and I didn't." Her finger traces the rim of the glass, staring into the cider, remembering. She shakes off the memories and looks back at Regina. "And as for Paige, you had no idea what they were doing to her. You didn't know what kind of monster he was when you put her with him."
"But I didn't see it! I should've seen it!"
"It's not always that easy and you know it."
"I know the signs too, Emma." Regina admits then, finally confirming what Emma already suspected.
Well, damn.
"Who hurt you?" She asks later, when the silence has become too much and the fire has burned down to embers that cast shadows around the room.
Regina doesn't acknowledge the question – certainly doesn't answer it – just continues to stare into the fire. She should've known better than to even ask.
She sets her long empty glass down on the coffee table and moves to stand. She'll carry Paige up to bed and in the morning Regina can erase everything and they can all move on.
If only it could truly be that simple.
"We should put some ointment on your knuckles." Regina finally snaps out of whatever trance she's in and Emma almost laughs at how absurd it is to be worried about her knuckles now.
"They're fine."
But Regina is already up and moving over to her desk, pulling out a first aid kit. "Sit." She commands and Emma is too exhausted to argue any more.
Regina crouches on the coffee table (and if it were any other time, Emma would so comment on that) and takes Emma's hands in her own. She squints in the semi-darkness, frowning at what she sees. "We should've taken care of these hours ago. Once I get them wrapped, we'll need to put ice on them."
She lets Regina tend to her knuckles without comment, idly wondering how often Henry had scrapes and cuts that needed tended to as a child. Regina certainly knows her way around a first aid kit, but there are plenty of reasons that could be the case, as she well knows.
"It's a wonder you didn't break any bones in your hand." Regina says once she's done securing the gauze.
She shrugs. It is something of a small miracle, she's well aware, because god knows she hasn't been as lucky other times.
"Why are you smirking? How is any of this funny to you?" Regina huffs and it's only then that she realizes that she is, in fact, smirking.
"It's not. Believe me, Regina, none of this is funny to me. I was just thinking that Tommy'd be proud, is all."
"Tommy?"
She stands and moves around the room, feeling suddenly caged in. "Old foster brother. Taught me how to fight, how to make a real fist, how to do the most damage with a punch. Told me he wanted to make sure I knew how to protect myself. Never saw him again after I used what he'd taught me to break his dad's nose when he came into my room one night, but I like to think he was proud of me then. Would be now, too."
Regina doesn't seem to know what to say to that and Emma can't blame her. Maybe she does know the signs, but that doesn't mean her experiences were like Emma's in any way.
"My mother."
The words are so quiet, she almost doesn't hear them, but she knows better than to ask for Regina to repeat them. Instead she just settles herself back on the sofa across from Regina, who is still sitting on the coffee table.
"You asked earlier who hurt me. It was my mother."
"Jesus." She whispers, because even when you know what to expect, it's still shocking to hear it.
"I've never said that out loud before." Regina confesses, sounding dazed. "My mother hurt me. My mother abused me. My mother tor-" her voice breaks and Emma leans forward, reaching for her hands again, "tortured me."
"Oh, fuck. Regina." Emma wants to pull the other woman into a hug, like she had with Paige earlier, but Regina's body is stiff and unyielding. She can't say she blames her, not after what Regina's just admitted.
At least Emma had always had an excuse to mentally fall back on about her abuse. Her foster parents beat her because she wasn't theirs, they didn't have to love her, they didn't have to care about her, she wasn't their daughter. It didn't make it physically hurt any less, but emotionally it took away basically all of the sting. The boyfriends were a different story, but she refused to think about them now.
But for Regina, that wasn't the case. She was hurt – just like Paige – by the person who was supposed to love them unconditionally, who was supposed to protect them from harm. Emma had just been abandoned (or sent through a wardrobe to another world) by her parents and that had screwed her up plenty. But Regina had been abused – tortured, and Emma shudders at that word – by her mother. The woman who had given birth to her.
"I'm so sorry." She whispers.
She knows it's not nearly enough, but it's all that she has.
They move from the study in tandem, without ever saying a word. Regina scoops up Henry and Emma lifts up Paige, whispering calming words into her ears when she begins to whimper. She follows Regina up the stairs, doing her best not to think about how very domestic this whole situation is – carrying the children up to bed after they've fallen asleep on the couch. In some ways, Emma wishes it were as simple and easy as that.
They veer off their common path when they reach the top of the stairs, Regina taking Henry into his room and Emma continuing on to the guest room where she and Paige will stay. She carefully lays the little girl down, tucking her in securely. She's thankful that Regina had managed to get her into pajamas before she fell asleep, although where Regina got the pajamas is a mystery.
Once Paige is settled, she sits on the edge of the bed, carefully running her fingers through Paige's hair in a soothing manner to help further calm her.
"Everything okay?" Regina's voice is like the wind, it caresses her ears and then fades away.
She nods, still focusing on Paige's face. "At least he left her face unscarred. I'll be glad when all the rest are gone tomorrow." She traces the tiny scars along Paige's hair line.
"Do you have scars?" Regina asks then and Emma blinks at the question.
"Is this going to turn into an 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' kinda thing because..." She tries to inject humor as she turns to face Regina, but her shake of the head is all it takes for her to stop.
"You've already seen mine."
Emma blinks and her eyes automatically fall to the scar on Regina's upper lip. She has to clamp her own lips together to keep the words that she knows she'd regret - that's it? - from slipping out.
There are plenty of ways a person can be abused - tortured - that never leave physical scars behind. Emma's got enough emotional scars to know. So she forces a soft laugh and finds Regina's eyes through the semi-darkness. "Guess it's my turn to show, then, huh?"
Regina's hands cover her own before she even makes it to the hem of her shirt. "Not here."
Regina moves out of the room and Emma finds herself following after the mayor, as she always seems to.
"I only have the one scar. I know it might seem odd but -" Regina murmurs after she's entered her bedroom and flipped on a small bedside lamp.
"Hey, you don't have to explain, Regina. You don't owe me anything, least of all this." Emma assures from her spot just inside the door, her hands jammed into her pockets. She feels entirely out of place in this room.
"All the other scars could be easily healed. My mother took great care -" and here, Emma physically shudders and Regina thinks of the word she's just used and shakes her head, "precision. My mother was very precise in the injuries she made. She controlled everything, so that no matter the marks she left, she could heal them and get rid of the evidence."
"Except your lip." Emma's fingers reach out as though to touch the scar, but hesitate and pull back at the last minute. She isn't allowed to touch Regina, even if she were close enough to.
"Except my lip. She did it with her magic while in a rage. She lost control and I - it wasn't pretty. My other injuries could be healed, but my lip scared over and wouldn't be fixed no matter what she did. I think it only served to make her hate me more."
Emma doesn't say anything, but her mind easily supplies what Regina refuses to say. Her mother had nearly killed her at least once, using magic. Her mind boggles at the thought but she also knows it to be true.
"Well," she breathes then, "now it's my turn."
Regina looks like she wants to say something, possibly protest, but she doesn't. She just keeps her eyes on Emma as she turns her back and lifts her shirt up. The gasp that shatters the silence makes Emma glad that she can't see Regina's face. She doesn't think she could handle the look of horror and pity that must be etched there. With Paige it had been different. But with Regina, exposing herself this way, it makes her feel more vulnerable than she's allowed herself to be since these scars were inflicted on her.
"Emma."
She flinches at the word, as though it has the power to cut her, to add another scar to the ones Regina is already seeing. She knows that isn't the case, rationally she knows that, but that doesn't make this any easier. Regina's revelations of her abuse had been horrible, but also manageable because they were abstract. She'd already seen the scar, already been almost desensitized to it, and so all she'd really had was the crack in Regina's voice as she recounted the events. Horrific but also somehow removed.
There is nothing removed about this though. It is a pure display of her vulnerabilities and she hates the weakness she feels now, under Regina's scrutiny. She moves to tug the shirt back down, but cool fingers brush against her own until they're clasping, holding, stilling her progress.
"Don't."
She can't find her voice, can't even find the word that's become second nature in moments like this – please – and so she says nothing as she feels Regina gently grasp her hips and turn her around so that they're face to face.
Regina's eyes rake over her torso, easily spotting the scars on it as well, but these aren't like the ones on her back. These are the after effects, the marks made by her second life – the marks of a bounty hunter. The thick scar on her side from being stabbed with a broken beer bottle, the small round scar – similar, yet very different from the burns – on her left shoulder from the bullet that had been a through and through. And the marks that she'd wished she could make disappear more often than any others, the painful reminder of what she'd lost, what she'd given up – the stretch marks that still marred her skin long after the baby she'd carried there was gone.
Regina's eyes seem fixed on those marks and that seems worse somehow than her seeing all the others, so she quickly turns back around. She doesn't want to see the pain in Regina's eyes as she's reminded once again that Emma is the one who gave birth to her son, that Emma will always hold the title mother without any effort at all, while Regina claws and scratches and clings to it with everything she has.
She wants to run. The thought rears up so suddenly, that it nearly strangles her. This is too much, it's too overwhelming, and all she wants is to run, to hide away from Regina's pained, yet understanding stare.
"I could heal you." Regina offers and it pushes away all thoughts of running as Emma feels the slight tingle of her skin under Regina's touch, the buzzing under it that is somehow different than the normal tingling she feels when Regina touches her.
It disappears a second later and Regina's cold fingers trail over smooth skin where a pocked scar (small and circular, so a burn - the one he'd inflicted after slapping her face and calling her a whore for smiling at someone else at the bar - because even though she does her best to avoid looking at them, Emma knows where every scar is and exactly how she got it) used to be.
"No." She says, and the word feels so foreign in her mouth in this context that she has to push it past her suddenly thick tongue.
She turns to face Regina again and sees the confusion and yes, hurt, that flash across her features for the briefest of moments. She reaches out and catches Regina's hands, allowing their fingers to entwine, as she keeps her gaze on the brunette.
"I -" Regina struggles and Emma lets her, because they're on such shaky ground and something needs to firm up. "this isn't about vanity."
Emma blinks as the ground shifts beneath her feet once again. She certainly wasn't expecting that.
"I don't want you to think that I'm offering because I think it will make you look prettier. You're already beautiful. I just - I want to take it away."
Emma smiles then, thin and weak, but a smile none the less. "We both know that even if you made every scar disappear, it wouldn't change anything." She can't begin to process the beautiful remark, let alone comment on it.
"I could -"
"Wipe my memory? Like you will Paige's. Like you did everyone else's. Everyone's but Jefferson's... and yours."
"It's not that simple."
The protest is weak.
"Remembering is a curse." Emma murmurs. "But you won't let yourself forget. And neither will I."
So alike, they are, and Emma wonders how it took her this long to realize it. With Paige, it had been like a beacon, a billboard pointing right at her. But that wasn't the case with Regina.
Maybe there's a reason for that though. Maybe she wasn't ready to see it until now.
"You need to rest. You've got a big day tomorrow." She slides her shirt back down in place and turns to go to the guest room.
"Emma."
"I didn't say never." She gives, because Regina needs something. "Just not right now. Right now, Paige is my focus. After… later…" she shrugs. "She's my priority now. We've got plenty of time to heal ourselves, after we heal her. Okay?"
Regina doesn't answer – in fact, she looks sort of dazed like she did after their fight in the graveyard – and Emma takes that as her cue to leave.
She glances back from the doorway, but Regina is still just standing there, apparently trying to process Emma's words. Emma feels for her.
We've got plenty of time to heal ourselves.
The words rattle in her brain as she makes her way down the hall to the guest room. She's honestly not sure why she said them, why she implied that they both need to heal, except of course for the fact that they do.
For all her blustering and the masks that she wears so easily now, Emma knows that Regina's just as broken, just as fucked up as Emma herself is. Regina's wounds have never even begun to heal, Emma would bet her life on it. And Emma's wounds, well, as much as she may have tried to convince herself otherwise, tonight has thrown into sharp relief the fact that hers aren't healed either. If anything, they're scabbed over until something or someone causes her to pick them open and leave them bleeding again. And tonight, they're all oozing.
Emma takes in Paige, asleep under the covers. The moonlight shines on her face, showing how serene it is. It brings a small smile to Emma's face. She's glad that tonight, on the last night she has to live with her memories and her injuries, Paige isn't haunted by nightmares.
Sliding under the covers carefully in just her tank top and underwear, Emma allows her eyes to slip shut, hoping that perhaps she will be as lucky as Paige is tonight. She doesn't have the nightmares regularly anymore, but they're still there, always lingering and after today, she's pretty certain they'll come.
She's almost asleep when she hears the creaking of the floorboards and the sound of Henry's door being opened. Her eyes blink open in the darkness and she feels her body tense, ready to jump out of bed and attack if needed. But then she hears the door close softly and the padding of feet down the hall and her body instantly relaxes, her eyes falling closed again at the sudden loss of adrenaline.
She doesn't know – doesn't want to examine – how she knows that it's Regina, just by the sound of her footsteps and the feeling that sweeps over her body, but she does. And when the door to the guest room slowly opens, she doesn't have to open her eyes to know that it's Regina checking on them, just like she'd checked on Henry.
"Sweet dreams." The words are whispered so quietly that if she wanted to, Emma could pretend she'd just imagined them. Paige doesn't stir at them and the door closes just as quietly as it had opened. Emma strains to listen to Regina making her way back to her own room.
Only when the quiet settles back around them and she can hear no more noise does Emma allow herself the thought that perhaps the nightmares are finally coming to an end for all of them.