As Emma pulled the car off the road, she winced as the gravel from the unpaved shoulder hit the bottom of the Bug, although she wasn't sure if she was wincing at the noise or sympathy pains as the exhaust under the car rattled from the tiny impacts. She eased off the gas until the tires rolled to a stop, before she quietly shifted into park, tossing a look toward the passenger seat before looking behind her to find the small bag of snacks she had thrown in the back earlier in the day.
Stealthily, she opened her door and slipped out into the fresh air, leaving the door open just a crack behind her to avoid rattling the car. Then she walked to the hood, sitting down gently, kicking her feet up onto the the metal guide rail that traced the edge of the shoulder. And looked.
Before her, laid out as if before the eyes of some heavenly deity, the entirety of the valley spread out below her, the sun casting long shadows onto the land. Nine days straight of driving, and she couldn't help but think that the view before her just may have made the endless hours on the road worth it.
An untainted sunset over the Rockies, John Denver playing softly from the car stereo, no one on the road behind her, and none on the road before her. It was as if she was the only person in the whole of existence.
Well, not quite the only person.
Emma looked over her shoulder through the windshield and felt her heart warm as she took in Henry, slumped over in the passenger seat, his hoodie-covered head pressed up against the window, his favorite Tardis patterned scarf sticking out, the remnants of his chocolate bar smeared on his lips and the wrapper dangling from his relaxed hand.
As always happened when she got introspective watching her son, she could not help the sting of tears that pressed against her lids as she closed her eyes to savor a sudden gust of wind, marveling that they were where they were, after all the struggles they had both gone through.
The decision to leave her last foster home had been an easy one. The man was handsy and the woman was handsier. So when they were both passed out drunk one night, having forgotten to lock her in her room, she packed her little bag of wonders and fled. She met Neal not long after that.
He was everything she had ever dreamed of growing up. Smart and witty, quick with his hands and light on his feet. With every misfortune they encountered, he made her believe that it was a new adventure that only the two of them could best.
Neal made her feel wanted, every time he winked at her before using her to distract a mark or reached for her after a particularly close scrape to help burn off his adrenaline, burying his face in her neck to press harsh kisses to her skin. He was addicting, always making her crave him and all he offered her.
Because it was always her he wanted.
Until the day he didn't. She heard him on a disposable phone while she was in the bathroom, one he kept so that he could reach his "contacts," or so he said. He was shouting.
"I don't want to. I have it good here. Supply ready for me whenever I want it. I-"
His voice had cut out, and she could tell whoever it was on the other end of the line had raised their voice.
Neal was silent for several second before he inhaled sharply. "Wait, are you serious?"
He paused again, before he let out a low laugh, that had a tiny shiver of apprehension sliding down Emma's spine. "Yeah, ok. I'll clean up my mess and get things tidy."
There was another bought of silence followed by Neal's scoff, "Of course I can take out my own garbage."
Then she heard him disconnect the line with a click , and she quickly turned to pretend to be busy at the counter. A few moments later, she heard the door open, and Neal walked in, "Hey babe, how much longer are you gonna be?"
Emma gave him a smile she hoped he would believe, feeling guilty for having eavesdropped on his conversation. "Not long."
A few days after that conversation he told her about some watches he'd hidden in a locker in a train station. Watches worth enough to set them up forever and finally let her have the only thing she ever wanted.
Someone to come home to.
So when she went to meet Neal at the agreed upon location and was instead met with the flash of lights and the wails of sirens, as the cuffs closed about her wrists, she vowed to herself she would never look for home again.
Because all it ever did was burn her.
When she was sentenced to a year in prison, her case worker told her she was lucky to get such a light sentence, given the fact that she was probably going to be a repeat offender. She knew she should have been angry but she had been feeling so horrible, feeling as if the life was draining out of her, craving Neal's touch before remembering what he'd done to her.
It was as the cell door slammed shut behind her, as she swayed on her feet, that she made the sudden connection.
Neal's scoff. "Of course I can take out my own garbage."
She should have burned up with fury. But all she could do was collapse on the bed and cry, wishing that he was there to get her out of this latest scrape. As weeks passed, she stopped waking in the middle of the night, screaming in agony at the fire in her veins, crying out for Neal. Her mind began to feel clearer, and the anger that should have erupted from the very beginning instead simmered in her chest, helping her get stronger every day.
Until the morning she woke suddenly, not in agony, but to empty the feeble contents of her stomach. And then next morning. And the morning after that.
When she was approached by an older black woman Emma knew had been sentenced to life without parole for killing her husband, her dark eyes sorrowful, the woman simply offered her a small box, "I'm so sorry."
Emma looked down at the box, the container for a home pregnancy test, and suddenly understood.
The woman seemed to read it in her face, "Come on darling, there's no sense in putting it off."
Emma's body seemed to have detached from her mind, and refused to move as she absorbed the idea. The woman didn't seem phased, simply coming to stand by her and with the softest of touches, helped Emma to her feet and towards the toilet, keeping her steady. She sat with Emma while she waited for the three minutes to tell her what she already knew.
The sight of those two pink lines simply broke her, and the woman was there to catch Emma's sobbing form, stroking her hair and cooing quietly in her ear. Emma mourned her whole life in the strange woman's arms, and when there was no grief left for her to cry out, the woman wrapped her up in a hug and slowly got her back to her cell.
Emma refused to leave her bed for days, staring at the stick that had condemned her to carry a piece of the man who betrayed her forever, who took both her liberty and her innocence, neither of which she had intended to give away.
But three days after she had taken the test, a group of women, all races and sizes, crowded outside her cell, some holding food, others blankets or pillows. Emma wasn't sure what to make of it, but one of the women stepped forward.
"Mama Merlin said you was having a baby, and the boy who should be his daddy up and left you. That don't fly with us. Ain't nobody should leave their child behind, no matter what kinda law be after them. But we gonna make sure this little baby have it better than if he ever had his dead beat daddy."
Emma sniffled quietly, shocked by her words, "But why?" she rasped out.
The woman's eyes softened, "Because we is sisters here. And family gotta stick together."
Emma stiffened, a strange warm glow blossoming in her chest. "Family?"
At her shaky question, most of the group broke out into smiles. The woman stepped up to sit next to Emma, not getting to close but showing Emma that she wasn't afraid to be close to her.
"That's right, babe. Family. My name is Micky."
Emma gave a tiny watery laugh, "Nice to meet you Micky."
Micky gave her a radiant smile, "And now we need to know the name of our new sister."
For the first time since she had run from that foster home so many months before, Emma felt like she could breathe deeply again.
"Emma. My name is Emma."
Emma turned back towards the skyline, a smile touching her lips as it always did when she thought of those women. It had taken going to prison and getting pregnant by the man who set her up for his crime to finally find a family. She remembered Cass trying to teach her handstands in the yard and Steph teaching her the best way to avoid morning sickness. Kit, who gave her excellent foot massage while she spun the stupidest stories intended to get her to laugh and forget her woes for a while. Misty teaching her how to tell a person's history by their body language. And Kate taught her how to cook and braid and pick pockets and locks whenever the warden wasn't around.
But the person she remembered most fondly was Mama Merlin. The woman had gone to jail for killing her husband. Emma had learned later that the reason she'd killed him was because he'd come home drunk one night and beat their child to death,Mama Merlin had paid him back in kind with a knife through the fourth and fifth ribs.
"Wait, you managed to kill him with a steak knife?"
Mama Merlin looked down at her where Emma's head rested in her lap, hair fanned out while Mama brushed it. "My sweet child, you can kill a man with anything as long as you know where his weakest point is."
Emma went silent before she asked softly, "What… what was your son like?"
Mama's eyes went distant as she spoke, "He had a radiant smile. From the moment that boy was put in my arms, I knew that child would be a blessing to every person around him. He had a way of lighting up a room just by being in it."
Emma gave her a tiny smile, "What was his name? If you don't me asking."
Mama Merlin looked down at her, "Oh I don't mind sweet child. The worse thing I could do for him now is forget about him, so even if it causes me pain, I still owe it to him to remember every smile he ever gave me. My beautiful baby. My Henry."
It was the news that Mama Merlin had fallen and been taken to the infirmary as a result of a heart attack that shocked Emma into labor. The pain was unimaginable, but after it was all over, and that tiny baby was tucked into her side, she suddenly realized, there in the hospital she had found home.
One of the nurses came up, "It's a healthy baby boy. Ten fingers, ten toes. He's perfect."
Emma gazed down on the child in adoration. "Yeah, he is."
"What would you like to name him?"
Emma didn't know, hadn't even thought about it, but then the infant opened his eyes and looked up at her for a moment, before he gave her a broad grin.
And then she knew.
"Henry. His name is Henry."
It took three days for her to be allowed to leave the bed, and as soon as she was able she begged the nurse to take her to Mama Merlin's room. As they approached, they noticed that a priest was leaving the room, and when Emma entered, she saw oil glistening on Mama's forehead.
The woman looked like a shadow of her former self, but her eyes still sparkled with kindness and lit up in delight went they saw Emma standing at the door. She wasn't able to lift her head from the bed, but she was propped up enough to still be able to see them. She motioned weakly with her hand, calling Emma closer.
Emma shuffled over to the side of the bed and as she got closer, Mama realized that she was cradling her child in her arms. A look of such desperate longing passed over her face that Emma immediately offered, "You want to hold him, Mama?"
She nodded weakly, and when Emma heard the nurse start to raise objection, she sent a glare at her that silenced any protest. Carefully Emma placed Henry in Mama's arms, keeping her hands underneath the baby to support his weight as the older woman cradled the boy.
"W… ts hs name?" Mama whispered, her voice barely making it past her her lips.
Emma was silent for a moment, before she said quietly, "Henry."
The woman gasped and let out a sob, bringing the child to her face to press his forehead to her cheek. But after a few moments, Henry began fussing and she pulled the boy back slightly. Emma watched as the boy stilled again, looking up at the older woman with wide eyes, before he raised a tiny hand to press it to her lips. Then he gave the biggest Emma had ever seen from him, beaming up at the woman who held him.
And the woman looked down with pure adoration in her eyes. "He srly is Henry," she whispered, then she brought Henry's forehead back to her lips, pressing a kiss of pure love into his skin. "Ev'ha s'smile."
Suddenly, Mama's arms went limp and the heart monitor next to the bed began wailing, disturbing Henry, his smile dropping away as he started to cry. All Emma could do was pull her son back to her chest and stare down at the woman who had managed to show her more about what a mother's love looks like than anyone in her life.
Emma made a vow, as she leaned over to press one last kiss to the woman's forehead, that this time, Henry would get the life he deserved. For both of them.
She was jarred from her reminiscing by the sound of the car door opening. She turned to look over her shoulder again to watch Henry slowly make his way out of the car, his hair in a massive cowlick from where it was pressed up against the glass. He stood up then stretched, arching backward with a groan, and Emma was struck with how tall her son was getting. He now stood a head taller than her car.
Once he'd finished his stretch he turned towards her for a second, before his eyes focused on the view behind her.
"Woah," he said quietly, closing the door and wandering over to where she was. She shifted over, and Henry plopped down on the hood beside her, shaking the car and making the sheet metal bend slightly.
"How many times have I told you not to flop on the car?" She said with mock sternness.
"Sorry, Bug," he mumbled, running his hand lightly over the paint beside him, and Emma couldn't help it. She reached over and pulled Henry towards her. To her surprise, he went willingly, tipping into her side, his head landing on her shoulder.
It was only after he'd been leaning against her for a long moment that she noticed he was slightly shaking. She pulled back to look down at him, "Hey, you cold?"
Henry didn't answer her for a moment. Then he shook his head, saying quietly, "No. I… I had a dream about him again."
Emma stiffened before she could school her reaction, the memory of that monster still haunted her as well. She pulled Henry close, pressing her cheek to his head.
"I am so sorry you ever had to go through that Henry," she murmured. She felt him shrug slightly.
"It's alright, Mom. Besides, if he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't know just how badass you are."
Emma threw back her head in laughter, shaking the whole car as Henry gave a little snort of amusement. As her laughter slowly died, Emma reached over and pulled Henry's face to her lips to give him a big wet kiss in the cheek.
"MOOOOOOOooooooOOOooooOoooom," he whined. "I take it back, you aren't cool at all."
But Emma just pulled him tight to her side, "Nope, can't do that, no take-backsies."
"Mom, its take-backs, and no one even says that anymore."
"Yeah well, none of those either."
"God, Mom you are so weird."
"Yeah, but you are nerd so we are even."
He opened his mouth, as if he was gonna argue when he paused, before nodding, "You have me there."
She smirked before leaning back on her hands, turning to watch the sun as it threw ever lengthening shadows on the peaks that surrounded them. Henry followed suite, his shoulder bumping hers as they both looked out over the mountains.
As the sky grew ever darker, she watched from the corner of her eye as Henry's eyes slowly wandered upwards to the stars. After a long moment, she heard him mumble something under his breath and she had to turn her face towards the road to hide the loving smile on her face that she knew her son would not appreciate.
Because she knew what he had mumbled under his breath, whispered in a habit he'd developed when he was a toddler.
A wish upon his favorite star. Alpha Cygnus, the brightest star of his favorite constellation. The Swan. She knew that he still made his wishes, even if he would deny it if she asked him outright, the small spark of childish hope in him that she worked desperately to preserve keeping that belief alive.
She waited a few moments before shifting, the sun completely beneath the horizon now and the long shadows pulling the cold night down had finally caught up to them. The she sacked his arm, "Come on, almost there," and got off the hood to get back in the car.
As Henry settled down next to her, resuming his "lounge position," she couldn't help but throw a glance up at the sky, towards her own favorite star, Polaris, the queen of the northern sky and allow her own long dead embers of belief to borrow Henry's spark.
And as she put the car in gear, she thought to herself, wishing upon her star, that she hoped that Henry would always feel like she did right at that moment, crossing the Rockies by starlight, her truest love slouching in the passenger seat next to her, playing a game of I Spy with himself under his breath.
She wished that he would always feel like he was home.