A/N: Because I have a lot of post s5e10 feels (and I'm betting Emma does too). Welcome to my little cave of angst and sadness. Enjoy your stay.
Don't worry, love. A broken knee is nothing on a broken heart. Isn't that right, Swan?
Emma lay curled up on her side on the gray couch in her living room, replaying the scene from earlier in her head as tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn't help but hear Killian's words echo in her head, thick with spite as spat out the words he knew would hurt her most.
Oh, Swan. Of course I still have feelings for you… Anger. Hatred. Disappointment.
You don't mean that.
Except the look on his face said that he did. The way his eyes had darkened as he said it, turned to a navy that almost blended in with his pupils. She saw the hatred that had taken root there, the disappointment that stole the love from his eyes.
I see clearly now that you were nothing more than a pretty blonde distraction. But guess what, Swan? I am a free man now.
She tried to imagine her future without Killian, and she found herself clutching tightly to the pillow under her head, no longer trying to keep the tears in.
Everything I did, I did for you.
Well, you see, that's your problem, Swan. You're so afraid of losing the people that you love that you push them away. And that's why you'll always be an orphan. You don't need some villain swooping in to destroy your happiness. You do that quite well all on your own.
He was right, she thought to herself. This was all her fault. It was because of her that everyone hated her, because of her that her son was miserable, her parents mistrusting, Regina suspicious of someone she was finally beginning to believe was a friend. It was her fault that Killian was gone, that the darkness had overwhelmed him and made him hateful. It was her fault that the man she loved was battling this war inside. It was her fault, all her fault.
Why are you doing this?
Because… I want to hurt you… like you hurt me.
If hurting her had been his goal, he had certainly succeeded. In all her years of abandonment, fear, loneliness, betrayal, Emma had never felt so much pain. She sobbed even harder than before, unable to stop, letting the tears flow free and unchecked and ugly.
Emma heard the front door open slowly, but she didn't even turn her face to see who it was. Probably Killian, she thought to herself, here to mock me some more. She couldn't even find the energy to care if it was. Let him come, use her until she was a dried up shell of a person. She was halfway there already.
"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice called out tentatively.
There were footsteps in the foyer that stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Emma knew Mary Margaret was looking around, trying to decide which way to go first to look.
"Emma?" she repeated, and she must have heard Emma's sniffling, because a few seconds later the footsteps head towards the sitting room.
The middle of the couch, near Emma's stomach, sank down just a touch as Mary Margaret sat down, her hand reaching out to stroke Emma's hair, tucking a loose strand back behind her ear and smoothing all the little baby hairs down against her head.
"Oh, sweetheart, what happened?" Mary Margaret crooned, but Emma only shook her head, sobbing harder. "Come here, honey," she said, lifting Emma's head and scooting over quickly before placing it back down on her lap, continuing to stroke her hair soothingly.
"Killian..." Emma whimpered, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her mother's pants.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," Mary Margaret said calmly, making reassuring sounds.
"My fault... messed up... hurt Killian... gone..." Emma couldn't seem to string together full sentences, or even thoughts, as she cried into her mother's lap.
"He'll come back, baby, don't worry," Mary Margaret said, leaning down to place a small kiss on Emma's head. "We'll fix this, I promise, Emma."
"Mom..." Emma replied, lifting her head slightly to look at her mother with red-rimmed eyes. "I really screwed up."
Mary Margaret sighed heavily, unable to lie to her daughter, but still wanting to comfort her.
"Well, yes, but it's okay, sweetheart, everybody makes mistakes."
"This mistake really takes the cake, though," Emma countered sullenly.
"Emma, I promise we will fix this," Mary Margaret assured her, wrapping her arms around her tightly. "And in time, he'll forgive you."
"How do you know?" Emma asked, sniffling again and feeling like a heartbroken teenager rather than a omnipotent thirty year old.
"Because he loves you," Mary Margaret answered simply, resuming her ministrations on Emma's hair, "and that's what you do when you love someone. Your father forgave me for hitting him in the face with a rock."
"That's not really the same..." Emma started, but Mary Margaret interrupted with a sigh.
"Remember in Henry's book, when I broke your father's heart and told him that I didn't love him?" she asked.
"But you were trying to protect him, to save him," Emma reasoned, her brow furrowed.
"But I hurt him nonetheless," Mary Margaret replied, her voice sad. "And in time, he forgave me for it. Besides, isn't that exactly what you were trying to do with Killian?"
"Yes, but -"
"One day he'll understand that, Emma," Mary Margaret continued. "Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but one day. And when that day comes, he'll forgive you."
"I just don't know if I can believe that, Mom," Emma said quietly, tears springing free from her eyes once more.
"I know, sweetheart, I know. But I promise you, everything will be alright. You and Killian will get through this." She pressed another kiss to Emma's head and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Mary Margaret made no attempt to leave as the tears came and went throughout the afternoon, content to stay in and comfort her daughter as long as necessary.
For a few hours, Emma didn't feel like the Dark One anymore, she felt only like a heartbroken girl seeking comfort with her mother.
