Chapter Three
When Emma wakes up again, she's sure she's alone. She holds her breath and listens intently. She's alone. She wills herself not to panic. She reminds herself that it's not really dark, she just can't see. It can't be dark because it can't be night because if it were night, Regina would be here, in bed with her. She doesn't panic.
She sits up. She pauses for a moment, and waits for the dizziness to pass. It passes, and she assesses the state she's in. She barely feels any pain now. She's not hungry and she doesn't have to pee and she's pretty sure she's not about to die at any moment, and she knows the darkness isn't really darkness, and so she's okay being alone. She doesn't panic.
She wonders if she could get up and walk a little. Perhaps she could acquaint herself with her surroundings. She can feel a bit of cool air from her left, and she figures there's an open window over there. She thinks maybe she should explore in the other direction, as she imagines herself somehow toppling out of that window to her death. She doesn't know why she's being so morbid, but she doesn't want to risk it.
She slides out of the bed on the right side.
To her surprise, she feels steady on her feet. She reaches out with her right hand and finds the wall. She starts to walk, slowly, feeling her way along the wall until her fingers touch something wooden. She traces her fingers over it, and it feels like a frame or an edge, and beyond it is a smooth, cool surface, like glass, or maybe a mirror. She runs her fingers down the glass until she reaches a table. It was a mirror. This is a vanity. She feels around until she finds the bench and sits down.
She runs her hands over the surface and finds a hairbrush, and a glass bottle that she thinks might be perfume. She thinks it also could be a potion. She stops touching it.
She thinks back to when she was a kid and she would sometimes walk around with her eyes closed and pretend that she was blind. Feeling her way around those houses was much easier, because she had actually seen them in the light, and when she wasn't quite sure what something was, the option to open her eyes and double check was always available. She doesn't have that option now.
She gets up again and continues along her journey. She finds a break in the wall and decides it must be a doorway. She holds her hands out as she steps inside, and almost immediately makes contact with something against her shin. She kneels down and feels around the object. It's reasonably sure it's a bathtub, though it's clearly not made of porcelain. This is the bathroom. She doesn't want to be in here.
She stands up and steps back three steps – the number of steps she had taken before reaching the tub – and feels for the other side of that doorway. She finds it, and continues walking, her hand back on the wall, until she reaches another door.
This one is closed, and she finds the handle and hopes it's not locked. Would Regina lock her in? She feels the anxiety of that thought as she attempts to turn the handle. It turns. She's not locked in. She steps through the door.
She feels familiar cool air and the familiar floor from this morning. This is the hallway. She suddenly wonders if she can make it back to the dining room, on her own. Her legs aren't shaky and her head isn't dizzy and she wonders if, perhaps, Regina and David are in there talking about the horses again. She wonders how amazed they would be if she suddenly appeared in the room. She wonders if that would prove she's well enough to portal jump.
She wants to go home.
She finds the wall with her right hand, and starts walking.
She's pretty sure this is the way they walked this morning.
The wall is lined with what she thinks are several ornate mirrors, and it makes her task a little more difficult, but she is determined to keep going. Eventually, she reaches a point on the wall where there are no mirrors, and she is able to pick up her pace a little. Just a little.
She can't hear or feel anyone else around her, but she keeps her left hand out in front of her, just in case. She doesn't know where there will be a sudden wall or suit of armour – do palaces really have suits of armour on display? – and she wants to avoid any unnecessary casualties along her journey.
She comes to a doorway. Is this the dining room, already? She doesn't feel like she walked long enough. She steps inside, slowly. This room doesn't feel the same. It's not warm, and it doesn't smell the same. Even without her sight, this room feels dark and she wants out of it, now.
She steps back into the hall, and continues.
Several seconds or minutes pass – she can't be sure which – and she reaches another doorway. She's sure this is it. She hopes this is it. She steps inside.
It doesn't feel the same.
This isn't it.
She's getting frustrated.
Is she going the wrong way?
She considers turning back. She knows how to get back to the bedroom. From there, she could get back in the bed and pull the covers up and force herself to sleep and maybe this time when she wakes up Regina will be there and she never has to know about Emma's stupid idea to find the dining room on her own.
What was she thinking?
David and Regina aren't there, talking about the horses.
They are probably outside with the horses.
They are probably just happy to have a moment of peace away from the burden of taking care of her.
She forces herself to stop thinking like that. They didn't think like that. She's sure. If she can make it to the dining room, then she isn't a burden. This is her mission, and she needs to be successful, whether they're in there, or not. She needs to be successful for herself.
She keeps walking.
She walks and walks and walks, but there are no more doorways. She's sure she's going the wrong way. She's walked way too far. This was a bad idea.
She wishes she would have thought to count the steps on the way, this morning. If she ever makes it back, she tells herself she will count the steps next time. If she ever makes it back, and she isn't lost in some random corner of this giant palace forever.
She gives up.
It's time to turn around.
She turns, and places her left hand on the wall. She wishes she had counted the steps she had made so far. She knows if she keeps walking with this hand on the wall, she'll make it back, but it occurs to her then, that she doesn't know how far she needs to go.
She just needs to get to the ornate mirrors. When she gets there, she's back. But she's getting tired.
This was a terrible idea.
She keeps walking. Her legs are getting shaky. Her head is getting dizzy. She wants to cry.
She keeps walking.
She's not sure how far she gets before her legs buckle, and she lands with a soft thud on her knees. She puts her hands on the floor and tries to breathe. She just needs to recoup a little strength, and then she can continue.
She sits back on her heels and rests her forearms on the cool floor. She just needs a moment.
She puts her forehead down on the ground between her hands. She's crying. She doesn't remember when she started crying, but she's aware of it now.
Sobs are wracking her body and she can't calm down. She's sure she looks pathetic slumped on the floor like she is, crying like a child, but what does it even matter? She can't see anyway, what does it matter what she looks like?
No one else can see her. No one else is here.
She's alone and scared.
And it's dark.
Over the sound of her own sobs, she can't hear David approaching until he is very close.
"Emma!"
He's beside her now. His hand is on her back. She can hear Regina's heels clicking. They're both here now. They didn't abandon her.
David is pulling her up. He's asking if she's okay. She can't see it, but she knows the room is spinning now. The fog is back.
This was such a bad idea.
I… just… wanted…
She can hear her own voice between her sobs, but she isn't controlling her words. They are just spilling from her, out of her control now.
She's still on the ground, now in David's arms, and she can feel Regina's hand on her head. She can feel magic. She's not sure what Regina is doing, but she's calming down.
David is lifting her up now. He's carrying her. Her arms are around his neck and she's holding on for dear life. Her father's arms are strong and safe. Her head is on his chest and she can hear his heart. It's not the same. She wants to hear Regina's heart. But she likes that her father smells like home. It's soothing.
She never expected to be a Daddy's Girl, but she knows she is.
She can still hear Regina's heels clicking. She's walking with them, slightly behind them. It feels like mere moments when they are back in the bedroom, and David is laying her down in the bed. She wasn't as far away as she had thought. Maybe she could have made it back.
David is pulling the blankets over her, and he kisses her forehead. He's saying something but she's oblivious. She's revelling in her father being here, taking care of her. She's wanted this since she was a toddler. Right now, she almost feels like a helpless child. She knows this is what it would have felt like to have her Daddy then.
David says something else. Regina answers. Emma's still not listening.
David leaves the room and Emma can feel Regina lying down beside her. Emma snuggles up to her and finds her heartbeat.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
She needed that.
Regina's stroking her hair and talking in a low voice. Emma can't make out the words. She's fading again.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
She tries to focus on that sound, but she can't hold it. She's fading.
Walking was a terrible idea.