Emma finally made it home, after wasting far more time than she would have liked reuniting Lily with her mother, and explaining to her own parents what had happened. She paused, hand on the doorknob. She had no idea what she was going to be walking into, no idea how Henry was going to react. Or even really how much he already knew; she had been too angry to ask. This was not how she had anticipated her day going. The road trip from hell had left her exhausted even before everything else. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, and that was not going to happen anytime soon. But putting it off was not going to get it over with any sooner, so she opened the door.
"Mom" Henry called out her name as soon as she stepped inside. She could see he had been crying and she felt the anger she had been tamping down flare up again. He looked behind her expectantly and when it became clear she was alone his eyes flicked back to her. "Where's Dad?"
He took a step back and she could almost see the blood drain from his face. "Did she…did she kill him?"
Her heart seized. He should not have to ask that question, this should not be his life. Not for the first time she wondered if she had made a mistake in staying, if they should have gone back to New York. Maybe Henry would have had a chance at normality away from this cursed town.
"No kid, Graham's fine, he …." She couldn't exactly tell Henry how she had basically told Graham to go to hell, or how she had been so horrified that she had barely been able to look at him. "He just had some things he needed to do before coming home."
"Does that mean she's…gone?" His voice sounded so small, as if he didn't want anyone to hear him, or was scared of the answer. "We're safe now?"
She wanted to cry. She stepped forward to pull Henry into a hug. She may still not be sure how she felt about Regina's death, but she could at least reassure Henry if that was what he needed. "Yeah sweetie, she's gone. She won't be able to hurt anyone again."
He buried himself into her arms and she could feel him shaking as he tried to hold back tears. She barely caught his next words, muffled as they were by her body. "I'm sorry I wasn't enough to stop her."
And now the anger was back in full force. Except she wasn't sure who she was angrier at, Regina for making him feel this way, or herself for not noticing. Had they been so wrapped up in the crisis of the week to not see what Henry was doing, how much he had been taking on himself? She pulled back just far enough to be able to look him in the eye, hands on his shoulders.
"Listen kid, what she did was not your fault." Whatever else happened she would make sure he knew that. He was not going to be allowed to blame himself for Regina's choices.
"That's what Dad said." There was something close to laugh in his voice, despite the tears, or at least as close as he could get under the circumstances.
"Well, he was right." She should have known that whatever else was happening that Graham would have tried to make sure that Henry did not blame himself.
"But he's OK, he's not hurt or anything?" There was still too much fear in his voice. What had their lives come to that Henry had to worry about this?
"Yes, I promise. He's fine. Tell you what, how about I give him a call and check how long he is going to be?" It was pretty clear that Henry was not going to relax until he saw for himself that Graham was OK, and the look on his face at her suggestion was all the confirmation she needed. Ignoring her own nerves at calling him after how they had parted earlier, she pulled out her phone and made the call.
"Hello?" She could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he answered, and she couldn't blame him. He could hardly have been expecting her to call so soon, if at all.
"Hi." She tried to make her voice sound normal. She was relying on him to play along so Henry didn't realise that there was anything more going on here than him just being late home. "Henry wanted to know when you would be home."
There was a pause before he replied. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." She may still be angry, but she would suck it up for Henry. They had always presented a united front when it came to him. Henry had been dealing with enough tension between the branches of his increasingly complicated family tree, so they had agreed that whatever disagreements they had should be settled behind closed doors. Not that there had been many.
She had just been too angry to remember that earlier. Not to mention she hadn't thought Henry would even want him here. But apparently, Henry needed to see him, to see he was safe with his own eyes, which was far more important than her own feelings right now. And they needed to talk as well. She wasn't sure how that would go, or how she wanted it to go, but even in the short time she'd had, she had realised she could not run the way she always had before. Even without Henry to consider, it was not just her anymore; it was them. Their home, their family and friends. Their life.
"I'm not actually far. We secured Zelena in the cells under the hospital, it seemed like the safest place for her. And I figured it would be best to have your parents meet Robin and Roland."
She hadn't even thought of that. She was grateful that they had needed some time to pack up their stuff before following, Roland had enough to deal with without seeing that. She wasn't sure she wanted to ask if his presence would have changed anything; she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
"I was on my way down to the docks. Killian offered me a berth for the night."
Now that surprised her, along with the use of Killian's first name, given Graham had barely stopped referring to him as 'pirate'. They may have come to some kind of peace, mainly because of Belle, but they were not friends by any stretch. "I would have thought he would be with Belle tonight."
"He is. I just wanted to avoid the gossip that would have come if I had stayed at Granny's, and when I went to tell them it was done, he offered."
For a brief second, she had forgotten what had happened, why they were even having this weird conversation in the first place. But his words brought it back with an almost physical jolt. It scared her, how casually he could talk about having killed someone. He could be talking about anything, and any hesitance in his voice was about her reaction, not regret for his actions. She didn't know if she could live with that. But she pushed that thought aside, since reassuring Henry was the most important thing. She could deal with her issues later.
"Hurry home." That was all she said before hanging up, not trusting herself not to say something she shouldn't. That was not a conversation for a phone call, and especially not one in earshot of Henry.
"He's on his way home now." Some of the tension had left Henry over the course of the phone call, but she doubted he would fully relax until he saw Graham for himself. And frankly, having realised the danger he could have been in, she needed to see him herself. Angry or not, she needed to know he was safe.
With that, they came to an uneasy silence. She didn't know what to say. Henry seemed more accepting of events than she was. She was worried that was more due to combination of fear and shock, and knew the real test would be over the coming days and weeks as the reality sunk in. But she also knew there was no good pushing him now. They would need to talk about it more, but Henry was far too self-sufficient for it not to be counterproductive to force the issue before he was ready.
"Did you eat dinner?" It was late to be eating, but it would give her something to actually do. Other than just stand here awkwardly.
"I don't think I could eat." Made sense. She didn't think she could either, even though she hadn't eaten much all day. They hadn't wanted to risk stopping while they had Zelena in the car.
"How about some hot cocoa?" She moved towards the kitchen, pulling out the milk and chocolate. Even if Henry didn't want it, she could do with the comfort.
"With cinnamon?" He answered the way he always did, and she gave her usual response.
"How else?" It was a deceptive slice of normality in a day that was anything but. She knew it couldn't last, but she would take the brief moment before everything came crashing back down again.
Silence fell over them once more, the only noise being her making the cocoa. This was not the easy silence they were used to, but one that was heavy and uncomfortable. It felt like hours, even it had only been a few minutes, before they heard a key in the lock.
Henry bolted out of his seat and had thrown himself at Graham before he was even fully in the door.
"When you didn't come home I thought she'd hurt you."
She definitely missed New York. She knew Henry had sometimes worried when she was out working, but never this real fear that someone he loved might be hurt, or worse. No child should have to live like this.
"She didn't. I would not have let her. I'm fine." The words might have been directed at Henry, but they reassured her as well. She was only now really beginning to comprehend the danger Graham could have been in if things had gone differently.
She watched as he moved them into the house until Henry was back sitting at the counter, drinking the rest of his hot cocoa, as he managed to redirect the conversation so Henry was talking about some school project he was working on. Graham had always been good at distracting Henry, and she suspected Henry wanting to be distracted helped. They had told her stories about what used to happen when he ran away before she came to town, the time they had spent together, and while it may have been for unhappy reasons, she loved the bond they had developed.
It did not take long for Henry's eyelids to start to droop, yawns interrupting his sentences. The adrenaline of the day was fading, leaving exhaustion behind, and it was a testament to how tired he was that he barely argued when she called for bedtime.
He might have been a little old to need tucking in, but neither of them were complaining. By the time he was ready for bed he was already a little unsteady on his feet, and was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. She pulled the blanket up around him and brushed his hair out of his face. She told herself that she was just worried after what he had been through that day, and she was. But eventually she had to admit to herself that she was also delaying having to talk to Graham.
She couldn't hide in Henry's room forever, however tempting it might be. She took one last look back at Henry sleeping peacefully, at least for the moment, before she closed his door behind her and walked back to where Graham was waiting for her in the living room.
"I can go." With Henry gone he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, and she suddenly realised he hadn't actually sat down since he'd got back.
"No. Stay." She wasn't completely sure she wanted him to, despite her relief that he had not been hurt. She was still angry. He had unilaterally made a decision to murder a woman, and had shown no regret for it.
They needed to talk about it, but the thought of that made her rethink giving up running. It was so much easier when you split before things got complicated. As much as she had always wanted a family, she still wasn't so good at actually being part of one. She took a seat, too tired to remain standing, before she spoke. "So, do I start, or do you?"
"Don't ask me to regret it." He said quickly, rushing to get the words out. "I did what had to be done and I will not apologise for protecting my family."
And that was what was so disturbing to her. It unnerved her, and that fed her anger. "It didn't have to be done. Even if you were right about her being a danger again there were other options."
"Like what?" His words were clipped and harsh, his own anger bleeding through. "Lock her up? Even if we had a cell that could hold her, how long before your mother's bleeding heart saw her free again?"
She had never liked thinking about that too closely, how her parents had been given the opportunity to stop Regina and had chosen to let her go instead. How many people had suffered for that decision, Graham especially. She knew her mother had meant well, but it was not a decision she could understand, or be at ease with the consequences. She watched as Graham closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, calming himself down.
"She manipulated us once." He continued in a softer voice, almost pleading but not quite. "Do you really think she would not do it again? Do you think she would not use Henry?"
That thought chilled her. She may have been willing to work with Regina, but she had never completely trusted her. She was a lot less vulnerable to her manipulations than Henry would be, and even then, she had found herself feeling sorry for the other woman at times. Had even found herself feeling guilty for saving Marian's life.
"If she were of this world then there might have been another option." He went on. "But in ours there are some people just too dangerous to let live."
"That doesn't mean I can just murder her." He was making too much sense. She couldn't be OK with this, it was wrong, it had to be.
"You didn't. I did." He said that like it made a difference.
"Don't be a smart ass, you know what I meant. Heroes don't kill." At least not in cold blood like that, but the words sounded hollow, even to her.
"I never made any claim to being a hero, and have no desire to. My priority is keeping you and Henry safe, and after that protecting this town. Heroes…" She could hear the edge of disdain in his voice on that word. "…and their refusal to kill, were what got us cursed in the first place. We may need heroes like you, but we also sometimes need someone willing to get their hands dirty."
"How can you be so calm about this? You killed a woman." It was terrifying, how calm he was, how little he seemed to care. She couldn't understand. She didn't regret killing Cruella, she had been protecting Henry. But she still felt guilty over it.
"I have killed many, and few who deserved it. I'll not notice a little more blood on my hands. Especially not hers."
"You wanted her dead, you always have, this is all a little convenient for you, isn't it?" She wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth, tongue loosened in frustration at his refusal to regret what he'd done. Belle had been hurt, she still didn't know how badly, and she knew how hard Graham took harm to his loved ones, far harder than harm to himself.
"Yes, I wished for her death, at times more than I wished for my own." She winced at the reminder of how badly he had wanted to escape her. "I'll not deny that I gained some satisfaction from ending her life, I think I earned that right. But I made the choice to put my feelings aside for Henry's sake, and had she been genuine I would have continued to do so. His safety comes first, always."
"What if he can't handle this, knowing you killed her?" That at least made him pause, and she recognised the way he took a moment to put together what he was going to say before he answered.
"I had no expectation of returning here when this started. I knew Henry might never forgive me. That was a price I was willing to pay to keep him safe. Better this pain now than worse down the road. Hurting him was unavoidable, it was just a case of when and how badly." He fell silent for a long moment, looking at her intently. "But that is not why you are so angry. If it was about Henry I would understand that, but that's not it, is it?"
She wanted to snap at him and tell him not to tell her why she was angry, but he was right. Of course she was worried about Henry, how couldn't she be? Even if he did seem to be taking it better that she was for the moment. But that was not what was really fuelling her anger. If she was honest with herself she knew why, and it had nothing to do with Graham or Henry.
"I was relieved." She finally said what had really been eating at her all evening. "I realised she was dead and the first thing I felt was relief."
He stayed quiet, letting her speak. Her gaze was locked on the wall behind him, unable to look at him as she admitted this.
"I didn't really understand how much I worried about her until it went away. But when I realised she was gone, I was relieved. And I still am." She could even go so far to say she was almost happy. "So what does that make me? If I'm happy she's dead? What kind of example does that make me for Henry?"
"I am not exactly the expert, but think that makes you human." He said, with a wry smile. "There is nothing wrong with being relieved that a threat to your family has been eliminated. That is normal, or at least it should be."
He made it sound so reasonable, so straightforward. She brought her feet up to rest on the edge of couch, hugging her knees to her chest, before she continued.
"I'm scared that the real reason I'm relieved is that it means we don't have to share Henry with her anymore." There. She'd said it, even if she still could not look at him. Was she really that petty? She didn't know; she hoped not. But she had resented Regina, resented that Henry spent so much time with her. She had thought about how much easier it would be if Regina just disappeared from their lives. She would never have said it, but she had thought it. And now it had happened and she could not trust her own judgement. Wasn't sure if her relief was because they were safer now, or because she was selfish. "I didn't like how much of his time she took from us."
"Emma." He stepped forward, kneeling in front of her until she met his eye. "You always respected her role in Henry's life, far more than she ever did yours. Even when I was insisting that you shouldn't, you still fought on her behalf."
It had been their first real fight. One she had only won by appealing to his love for Henry. She wondered how things would have gone if she hadn't.
Would they have come to this point sooner? Would not having Henry have meant Regina wouldn't have tried to be good at all, or stopped trying sooner? If she actually had ever been trying at all, something she was starting to doubt. She wondered if her change had been an act all along, if the whole time she had been pretending so she wouldn't lose Henry. If they had made the break back then would it have meant less pain for Henry? If he hadn't believed she had changed only to have his hopes smashed? Or would he have resented them for not being willing to give her a chance?
There was no point obsessing over it now, but she couldn't stop herself. She had come to realise that second guessing every decision you made came with being a parent. And it was worst with the big things, and this was a big as they came.
But this was not the time to worry about that. Graham was still talking, and she had no doubt she wouldn't have any shortage of time to obsess later.
"She has been given more chances than anyone should expect. If she did not want to take any of them, that was her choice. But if she had decided to change, I know you would have continued to support her place in Henry's life." He paused, and she could see him mentally debate whether or not to say what he was thinking. "And maybe you knew on some level that this was not a good relationship for him. Maybe the feeling you are worried was jealousy was actually your instincts trying to warn you of danger. Sometimes we know something is wrong even if we don't know what or why."
"So, what? This is my fault for not listening to my gut?" She could see the exasperation written all over his face at her words, he even rolled his eyes at her. She wasn't serious, not really. But there was a small part of her that felt guilty for not knowing something was wrong. She couldn't help but wonder if there was something she could have done differently. If there was a way that would have hurt Henry less, and have not endangered so many people.
"If you are to blame then so am I. More so even." She was about to laugh off his words, but the laughter died when she saw the way his gaze had dropped. He did blame himself.
"Graham, no. We didn't know, we couldn't have known."
"I knew." He cut her off sharply. "I knew what she was, what she was capable of. Better than anyone. I knew she was a danger. And I let it go. Who knows what else she has done that we don't know about, might never know about. What else she did while pretending to have changed. That she got away with because I was too scared of losing you and Henry to push for what I knew needed to be done."
And the blows just kept on coming. Just when she thought her heart couldn't take anymore. Because now she had to wonder how much their insistence on accepting Regina had cost him. What he had gone through because her family seemed hellbent on giving that woman chance after chance. Even now her breath still caught at how much he would sacrifice for her, for them.
"Even if that were true, you were hardly the only one, and she was not your responsibility." No, Regina was her family's responsibility. One they had failed to uphold.
"Wasn't it? I am the Sheriff. I took an oath to protect the people of this town. They trusted me, and I failed. We only found out because she was desperate enough to take such a big risk. As bad as it was, it could have been so much worse. We may not have known until it was too late to stop her. Until she got her happy ending at everyone else's expense."
That one hit home. Honestly the whole idea had been so ridiculous that she hadn't really given much thought to what Regina had planned if she found the author. She had just been glad she was focused on something non-destructive. Anything that stopped her from relapsing seemed worth going along with, and it had seemed harmless enough. Then Gold had got involved and suddenly it wasn't such an impossible idea, but there was too much going on for her to have time to stop and think. But now she could think about it, and she couldn't help but suspect that Regina's idea of a happy ending would not have involved having to share Henry with anyone.
"It's not like you didn't try. You didn't want us to trust her. We ignored you." Another thing to feel guilty for. They had all been so understanding, making sure to keep her away from him. But they hadn't listened to him, or trusted his judgment. "I'm sorry, we should have listened. We shouldn't have forced you to accept her."
"Emma, you don't have to apologise. I may not have liked it, but I understood why. I hoped she could change as well, for Henry's sake. You wanted what was best for Henry, and that is never something to be sorry for." She wasn't sure that even that was really a good enough reason for what they had done. But she doubted she was going to get a better opening than that to bring up the thought that had been lurking at the back of her mind all night.
"I was thinking about New York. About us going back." He didn't say anything, just cocked his head and waited for her to continue. "I can't help but think about how much simpler things were for him there. He had friends, a life that did not involve constant danger. We went an entire year without anyone trying to kill him. Here, we are lucky if he manages a week. I don't think he would want to leave, I'm not sure I want to leave, but…"
"If it is what is best for him, it is worth it." He finished. Of course he understood. Wasn't that exactly what he had done today, if in a more extreme way that she would have. He had been willing to lose Henry, and her, in order to keep him safe.
"What about you, what do you think about the idea? It would be a bit different to what you're used to." This was not solely her call, it affected all of them, and he deserved a say.
"My home is wherever you and Henry are." For a guy who was supposedly not so good with words, he sure could come out with the most heart-meltingly romantic things sometimes. "If that is New York, so be it."
"That is not an answer." It may have been sweet, but it did not tell her how he felt about the possibility of moving out of Storybrooke.
He sighed before he answered. "I don't like the idea of you being separated from your parents again. After so long, you deserve them in your life. And I can't say the idea of living in a big city, and leaving my brother behind, necessarily appeals to me. But at the end of the day, you are worth any sacrifice. You and Henry."
Maybe someday she would be used to having someone who thought she was worth sacrificing for, but for now it still surprised her every time.
"Your turn." He gave her a moment to take in his answer before continuing. "You haven't said what you think about the idea, beyond it being better for Henry."
"Me? I'm not sure. Things were simpler then. I mean, I missed you, even if I didn't know what it was that was missing. But other than that, we were happy. It was normal, you know? No constant emergencies, no danger, just normal life." The end of her sentence was swallowed by a yawn and she was suddenly hit by how bone tired she was. The day had been exhausting both physically and mentally, and it looked like that had finally caught up with her. "But I think for now, I just want to go to bed. Come on, tomorrow is tomorrow's problem."
Things might have been a little awkward as they got ready for bed, she could tell Graham was trying not to presume too much, but for once she was too tired to overthink and was the one to close the distance. She knew the days ahead would not be easy. She had no idea how Henry was going to react once the initial shock and relief wore off. She feared this might go on to cause an irreparable rift in his relationship with Graham, one that could destroy their family.
She hadn't had enough time to really gauge her parent's reactions. Her mother had always been Regina's biggest supporter, and the thought of having to keep defending Graham's actions to her, especially when she had still not completely come to terms with them herself, was not a good one. Would Mary Margaret make Henry feel guilty about his reaction? They had finally settled into a normal relationship as a family, or at least as normal as they were ever going to get. This could throw that equilibrium back into chaos, after she had worked so hard to find that balance with them.
But like she'd said, that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, her family were here and safe. And given every other challenge they had faced and conquered, even those doubts were not enough for her to think they would not make it through this one as well.
Maybe she had in fact inherited some of her parent's optimism. Or maybe she was finally learning not to always expect the worst from those she loved. But whatever it was, she found she had faith that everything was going to work out just fine.
