Wrote this a million years ago, so I thought I'd edit it and post it. Sorry if it's not my best work.
I don't own.
She had Neal six days before the coma.
Six days after Emma got him back, got to see his stupid little smile again, he decided to threaten to leave again, just having woken up less than a week ago.
It was difficult to watch him like this. He assured her he was fine, even cracking a few jokes to get a smile on her tear stained face. He said it wasn't her fault.
But it sure as hell feels that way.
It was a normal Sunday, same every Sunday; drive as a the family of two, talking about maybe one day having children. A big step for them, being young and foolish and not even married, which her mother hated, but they liked to plan ahead. They planned with each other instead of against each other, and they connected on a level she never thought she'd have.
Then came the screeching of metal.
Emma doesn't remember all of it. It was so sudden; the impact seconds after the deafening crash. She had time to swerve. She had to save them both. Regret started to sink in after he was carted away, after the sharp promise of death and the screaming, so much screaming. She couldn't decipher in that moment whether it was his or her own, as the semi hit square on his side, and her vision blurred to the point of not being able to see. But it didn't matter. The blood-curdling sound made me feel like she was slowly losing sanity, and the gasping pleas for someone, someone to help them that came from her mouth didn't even sound like her anymore.
Who am I?
Emma had become a completely different person.
She didn't get many visitors. Not that she cared, considering every time someone came to call, she broke down all over again. The blonde couldn't keep hearing the what-ifs until they became true, keep handling the painful reminders of where he was. She needed to wait it out until she could watch him walk through the front door with Chinese food in his hand and a grin on his face.
He was so optimistic
Always smiling, always laughing, always bringing joy to those around him.
Now he just looks broken.
Six days ago he was pushing past the negatives and laughing at one of her dumb jokes.
And six days after that, he's unconscious and she may never hear his laugh again.
[X]
God, my chest hurts.
Today is day one. Day one of seeing his still body in a hospital bed again. Day one of urgent watch from doctors and nurses. They all assure her that he'll make it, that things will be okay, but their sad eyes tell a different story. All Emma wanted was for it to be over. She needed him with her, but she knew that today is not his day.
Slowly passing her way through the halls, she passed the rooms of the dying and the weak, through the families that were weeping over lost love. She managed the past few days without crying, trying to boost the optimism in her, optimism like his, and she couldn't bare to break now. Not until she saw him.
His room was bland, not a gift or bouquet to be seen, no colourful cheer to bring the light back to his eyes. She stood and stared, her legs stopped as if she had no more control of herself, and started shaking.
I can't go in. I can't see him. Not like this.
She felt the tears hit her cheeks. Nurse continued to push past her like grief didn't affect them. Hands grabbed at her upper arms and she was being shuffled into a different area of the floor, being told to "please keep it together, ma'am" and that "everything will be alright". Emma let out a cry, struggling against the grip of the nurses who she felt was the ones away him away from her.
"Let go! Let go of me!" she shouted, pushing and pulling and clawing out of their grip, and began to run.
"Miss, please step away from this room. Miss? Miss, stop!"
It was almost blinding, pushing through a crowd and she couldn't listen to anyone anymore. Dr. Whale, the doctor in charge of taking care of Neal, tried to grab her right as she entered the door pulling her into his arms and shifting her away from the bed in the room. She made the mistake of looking up just enough to see the lifeless figure just a few feet away from her, and froze.
Over the blood rushing in her ears, she heard his soft voice in her head
"It'll be okay. You'll be alright. I promise."
But she knew what that meant.
"Go find new love."
His voice attacked her senses, surrounding her, causing her to drop her weight in the doctor's arms.
Emma was crumbling.
Flat line.
Her first instinct was to violently shake him, yell at him to quit playing around. But the anger quickly dissipated as her stomach leapt into her throat, dizziness latching on as she struggledto catch her breath.
He's not dead. I'm dreaming. This is a joke. What is happening?
"Emma?"
The voice startled her panic state momentarily as her gaze directed towards the man holding her up, looking down at her with sad eyes. "I'm so sorry..."
Over time, she learned that people never know what to say in these situations, let alone someone who just watched a girl lose someone they love.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
Panic struck again, taking over her entire body in a ice cold grip, not budging, not doing anything but shaking. She saw a hint of what she knew was her mother hovering, and the soft sounds of her crying hit hard.
She came to the hospital vowing not to cry. Hope flooding everything that she is, and now, she's just a heap on the floor, gasping for breath, memories flooding my mind as I tried to hold onto everything I had with him.
[X]
"Hi. I'm Emma." You extend your hand, hoping that you didn't look as nervous as you felt.
Blind date.
Day one.
Ruby set this up for you, and you almost tackled her in the hallway when she told you. You didn't want to go on a date, not a blind date, and especially not after getting dumped on your ass by a total jerk. Fresh out of high school and Ruby already wanted you to find "true love".
You were sweating through your socks.
Not only was this your first date since a terrible relationship, this blind date happened to be the cutest guy you'd ever seen, slightly scruffy with a smile to light up a room.
He introduced himself, confidence practically oozing out of him as his smile melted your gut, then must've noticed you shivering from nerves and offered his jacket.
You were in a warm coffee shop.
He was definitely a keeper.
[X]
Mary Margaret was silent.
Please say something. Anything.
Emma didn't understand how her mother could be so calm.
She knew him. She was his friend. How the fuck could she-
Unable to think clearly, she slammed her hand on the dashboard and Mary Margaret's head whipped in that direction, eyes wild with worry as she pulled over. "What the hell was that?! The airbag could've gone off and hurt you, Emma!"
SIlence.
She tried yelling again. "I get it! You're hurting! But guess what; so am I!" Red raced, anger took over her. Neal was a son to her. It took far too long for her approval of him, think he was like every other boy her daughter had been with, including one that left her pregnant and scared. But after a few family dinners, she saw him as one of her own.
Emma looked at the face staring back at her, and knew the expression well. It was the guilt that goes along with death. Snow didn't feel like she did enough to help him, but they both knew that no matter what anyone had done, it wouldn't ever feel like it was good enough. "I knew him, too, Em! You have no right to be angry with me! You fucking-" she stopped herself, knowing not to go too far as to say something she'd regret.
But Emma couldn't let it be. "What? What?"
Her mother turned away, pursing her lips into a fine line as she starts the car again, the obviously line of tears rimming the bottom of her eyes. "We're going home," was all she said before pulling a little too roughly back onto the road.
A breath.
"You blame me."
"Em…"
"No!" She surprised herself, the tone not one she'd ever want to take with her mother. "You don't think I blame myself already? I was driving! I could've saved him and I didn't!"
Pushing the passenger side door open, their eyes didn't separate. Emma's emotions felt they had dried up like a sidewalk cracking under intense heat, and she couldn't feel anything other than a hollow ache buried in her chest and the pounding in her head. The loss hadn't sunk in to the point of misery, and she felt as though it never would.
Was this all in my head?
She shut the door, leaving a dumbfounded Mary Margaret in her wake. She half expected her to beg her to get back in the car, but action spoke louder than words, so she understood. Slowly she peeled away from the side of the road to let her daughter clear her mind.
The walk down the quiet road covered the painfully loud bomb that went off in her head, , trying desperately to get out.
Her mind went to him, emotions still pushed behind a dam, head swimming as the heat of the day started to get to her. The road was nearly empty, with the stray car making it's way along every ten minutes. One even stopped to see if she alright.
Would I be able to even face anyone?
Just the thought seeing anyone lit burning in her stomach, and the tears threatened to come back..
She continued to saunter.
Her heart felt numb, and she had the overwhelming sensation of not caring and the delusion that people are messing with her.
He'll be at home once I get there.
When she pushed open the door of her small apartment, she was alone.
It was almost painful, the lack of dishes clanging or the smell of someone cooking. Desperately, she started searching around, trying to find something, anything to cling to that would assure that he'd been here, but it was all the exactly same as when she left.
Swiftly turning on my heel, she put a fist right through the wall.
It didn't hurt. She barely felt it, but the blood told otherwise.
"Damnit..."
She wiped it on my shirt, not caring what I was wearing or doing. I picked up the closest thing to my left and hurled it at the wall, yelling as I did so. It was the glass swan he got me. "You fucking bastard!" I screamed as the glass shattered. "You left me!" I felt the rage begin to bubble up through my entire body. Picking up the next valuable, I threw it at the door, watching everything I touched fall apart by my hands. There wasn't anything I didn't want to destroy. All of it reminded me of him, and it was infuriating. I couldn't think straight, see straight, walk straight as I starts smashing anything that he'd every given me or that he left behind. I kept muttering "You left me, Neal... you left me..." as I trashed the apartment.
By the end I was crying, curled up in a ball in a corner. I knew I was bleeding from at least different places, but I couldn't muster up the strength do anything about it.
I deserve this.
[X]
The knock at the door didn't register.
Somewhere in the back of her head recognized the appropriate reaction for it though, and she snapped out "What?" almost immediately.
Her head began to pound right after, causing a sharp pain behind her eyes.
"Gods fuck.." she cursed, clutching her forehead, noticing slightly a wet feeling coming from her hand. Great...
The door creaked open and a familiar face popped in, face riddled with sadness and sympathy. It was Ruby. "Hey, babe. How're you- Oh my god what the hell?!"
She promptly ignored her exclamation towards the mess of the room. "Hi."
Ruby has been a friend to Emma since kindergarten all the way to working at her grandmother's diner together. One of her only friends for the longest while. Ruby had helped her through everything, but now, all she wanted was for her to get out.
"What happened in here?! Are you okay?" Her expression showed concern, but her voice was accusing.
"No, I'm not okay!" Emma screeched, lifting her head. "How could I be okay?!" She didn't mean to yell, but I could barely feel for myself let alone feel any sort of sympathy for anyone else. "Neal's dead, Ruby! I-" I choked out another sob, holding my face in my hands. Emma hardly ever let people touch her, so when her friend bent down to embrace her, she only shook her head and shoved her off, not meeting her eyes. "Please don't..." she pleaded softly, trying to control the heated anger running through her veins. "Get out." It was the best she could do without breaking something, and waited to hear the click of the door closing.
But it never came.
"I'm not leaving you here like this." It was cautious, almost frightened, but she stood her ground. "Not in hell."
The body language the girl in red showed was telling; fidgety, nervous. She didn't understand that Emma was furious. At everything. Wanting to hurt everyone around her, destroy it all,, try and rid him of what was left of her life. Hoping that if she was angry at Neal, it wouldn't hurt as much.
She was wrong.
But it's nice to pretend.
"Get out!" she screamed, picking up the nearest thing, which was luckily a pillow, and threw it at her friend, hoping it would be enough to get her to leave. It was physically torture for Emma to be around people at that moment, and she ducked head down again, not able to look at Ruby as she quickly dodged the projectile. Then she heard a shift and footsteps.
Thank god. The door opened tentatively, and the footsteps faded into the hallway of the building, and the soft click was music to her ears. She could still feel fury, shoulders tensing up to the point of aching, nails digging red crescents into her palms. How dare people think I need to be babied!
She took a look around the room, what she had done finally registering in my head; it was trashed. She swore inwardly and stood up, careful not to cut her feet anymore than she already had. It stung to put weight on them, but the sharp pain that radiated from just below her left shoulder blade made me cry out. Carefully, she moved my hand to feel for any damage. Sure enough, she immediately felt hot, sticky liquid and resisted the urge to gag. Great. Struggling to straighten her back, Emma hobbled over to her phone, about to call someone to help her to the hospital when she decided against it. A broken apartment with scattered pieces of glass would be too hard to explain logically.
But before she could put my phone down, it buzzed.
A text from her mom. 'Where are you?'.
Another buzz.
'Emma, where are you?'
A surge of heat spread through her whole body, desperately to resist the urge to through it at the wall along with everything else. As calmly as she could, she switched it off, knowing it was a bad idea, knowing Ruby had to have told everyone by now, and sympathy calls were in order. Not answering would scare them, but deep down, she knew she wouldn't be able to talk to anyone without biting off a head. Sighing, she ran a hand through her ragged hair, unsure how to handle this. Her insides numbed, anger giving way to panic.
He's dead.
I could've saved him.
She dug my nails into my scalp, gripping her hair in distress. She had the chance, the chance for us to live happily. Instead she's here, full of rage for him leaving when it was- All my fault.
Close to pulling hair from it's roots, her heart pounded against my chest. She was panic stricken, and began to hyperventilate. "I could've save him.." it was just a breath, looking frantically the room for something that looked like it could bring him back. There was a need for something that could bring back her stability. She didn't notice the small thumps on the door the first time, before a voice rang out.
"Is everything alright in here?"
She didn't recognize who it was.
"Hello?"
It came again, along with another knock. She jumped this time, not expecting any help from neighbors. The accent was unfamiliar, but it calmed her.
British.
She slowly turned to face the direction of the voice and stopped.
She had seen him around before. He's at the mailboxes almost always at the time Emma was, and her friend's would joke and call him "Mystery Man." They teased about what they thought about him.
The only thing he ever directed at the blonde was a smirk and a wink.
And now he's standing in her doorway with a look of horror on his face.
His eyes traveled around the room and then landed on hers, about to say something, but stopped and blushed.
What the hell?
He didn't seem the type to blush, cockiness always across his face and wardrobe always including black and leather.
"I..." he stumbled out, eyes back on the mess around me. Things were shattered, blood on pieces of glass, blood on all over her body. It looked awful to a new eye. "Bloody hell, you're bleeding!" He rushed over as carefully as he could. "Who did this?" He reached out tentatively and she snapped her arm away, not wanting to be touched.
"Don't touch me!" she spat and jerked, but sharp pain shot up her arm and she couldn't do anything but cry out, immediately clutching it. Tears began to fall and the shear embarrassment she felt pulled her out of the anger she was in. Going against what she said, the stranger lightly brushed his fingers against her elbow. The shocking burn made the lump in her throat grow and she yelped again.
"You have a quite bad gash. It might've ripped through a tendon." The look on her face went from tentative to frightened, thinking that she would have to go to a hospital. He then soothed over my shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, you're alright. You're okay." He glanced at my back, trying not to visibly wince. "Your back is pretty torn up. May I ask what happened?" He was hesitant, probably knowing that it was really bad, but also knew that he shouldn't tell.
All she did was shake her head, unable to speak. Speaking would lead to crying and shaking and falling into a stranger's arms for comfort, and that was something she couldn't afford that. "I got... angry," was all she could manage, hoping it would be enough.
The stranger looked confused for a minute before his eyes widened in understanding. He didn't say anything for a moment before looking down at the floor sadly. "I did the same thing when my brother died. I didn't take it well and was.. discharged from the Navy." He chuckled softly, but Emma's eyes widened and shedidn't know what to say. "I know how you're feeling," he continued. "I promise you that this feeling right now will pass."
It was unspoken, but I knew his sentence finished with, "But you'll never forget." She could read it all over his face.
Without thinking, the blonde spoke. "It doesn't feel like it." It surprised her, the answer not what she was planning on saying. Throwing all convention out the window, she looked at him, studying his face, and said, "I'm Emma."
He laughed then, shaking his head, and then returned the stare. "Killian Jones." He slipped then, and headed into the kitchen, coming back a minute later with a wet cloth. "You know," he started, gently bringing the soaked fabric to the cut on her elbow. She hissed, but let him as he continued. "You're a very strong girl, Emma."
Tears welled up again.
No.
No I'm not.