I'M SENDING OUT VIRTUAL HUGS TO EVERYONE WHO READ AND/OR REVIEWED! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! WHEN I USE ITALICS, IT'S A FLASHBACK. JUST SO YOU KNOW. AND I ALSO WANT TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT THE FLASHBACKS ARE FROM EMMA'S POINT OF VIEW. SO ANYTHING SHE SAYS/THINKS IS WHAT SHE BELIEVES, WHETHER OR NOT IT'S ACTUALLY TRUE. SO WHO'S READY FOR CHAPTER 3?
Smiling triumphantly, James held up The Avengers for all to see. Even though Snow had organized and reorganized their movie collection, Emma had done a number on it in the few nights before Henry had been taken. Now, all he and Snow had to do was wait for Emma to come back down with Henry. If this didn't at least bring a small smile to his face, then something was seriously wrong. Not that they didn't consider him having PTSD being a small thing, but The Avengers was his favorite movie. They had to watch it at least once a week.
"I'll make popcorn." Snow said. She never was good at waiting.
"Honey, it's ten AM." James reasoned.
"The smell of food might help him to want to do something." She replied.
"It'll certainly get Emma down here." He joked. "But whatever will help." With that, husband and wife set out on a search for un-expired popcorn.
Taking a deep breath, Emma poised her fist on the door to her and Henry's room. She knocked,
"Henry?" After a few moments of shuffling, it opened. "Hey, so we're gonna watch The Avengers," she wanted to trail off when she didn't see any spark in her son's eyes, but she pressed on, "and I think I smell popcorn. Do you wanna watch it with us..?"
Henry desperately wanted to say 'no'. He just wanted to lay in bed and be left alone. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. Actually, he didn't think he could feel the joy he once felt at watching his favorite movie. Everything was too… this was when a bigger vocabulary would have come in handy. He couldn't explain it, and that made everything worse. He felt so out of control, and so scared. He didn't know why. None of it made any sense. Still, he nodded and slipped past Emma, who was still standing in the doorway. Only then did she realize just how much weight the boy had lost. The thought of him being malnourished from the time he spent in Neverland made her heart clench.
It's been three months, nineteen year old Emma thinks. Three months and she's still scared of every single person that walks by her on the sidewalk. She hadn't used Neal's car yet, even just to live in until she found a place after getting out of prison. She didn't want to need his help, even if it was just a car. So she walked everywhere. She was supposed to go to work tonight for the first time since the stabbing. Key words: supposed to. She couldn't. It was a new city, yes. But that didn't mean catching her targets would be any easier, especially considering the nine inch incision that went the length of her stomach. It rarely hurt anymore, but when she moved a certain way, she still expected it to. Sometimes she swore it did. Besides, she didn't think she was physically capable of running after someone anymore, especially if he or she put up a fight. She was always a thin person, very athletic. Track in high school probably saved her life once or twice. But even she admitted that right now, she was practically emaciated. The point was proven further when she looked down at her still-full plate of mashed potatoes and chicken. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. She felt stupid. Yes, she had been stabbed –but never a stab victim– and apparently she flat lined on the table during surgery. Emergency surgery. She didn't even get time to prepare for it. The worst part was that it was her fault she was in this position in the first place. The guy had obviously known the part of town they were in well, because he led them to an alley. And he obviously had martial arts experience because while Emma liked to think she was fairly skilled in hand to hand combat –she'd grown up in the system, after all– this guy was good. Really good. And when he pulled that knife, she didn't stand a chance. But she would have, if only she was more skilled and stronger. So no, in this state, she really didn't think it was wise to go chasing after criminals.
Henry was curled up against Emma, a third of his attention on the move, a third on the popcorn he was shoveling into his mouth, and the other third on the door. Internally, the blonde sighed. If he wasn't completely engrossed in the movie, it was worse than she thought. Dragging her own attention away (even after seeing it ten times, she loved it), she began to think. There was the whole poisoned apple incident. And the Archie's-dead-and-your-other-mom-killed-him-no-wai t-he's-not-actually-dead thing. There was also the fire room thing, not even letting him forget that he was poisoned one of his mothers, even if it was meant for the other one. So adding being kidnapped by two crazy people after finding out that his dad died and being taken to Neverland would, of course, be all the more traumatic. Emma was all the more grateful no one objected when she volunteered to be the one to kick Tamara's ass –Regina took care of Greg– and left them weak enough that the Shadow could take them to the Shadow World. The brunette was much happier making Greg suffer through magic. The one rule was no fire balls, at which Regina did a fake pout. Emma, on the other hand, took great pleasure in actually being the one to hurt her. Though people claimed she had anger management issues, as well as violent tendencies, she strongly disagreed. That woman hurt her baby, and she had to pay. By the time the end credits came on, Henry was already pulling the blanket off of him and Emma.
"I'll be back in a little bit." He said and took off for his room. This time, Emma sighed aloud.
"He ate all the popcorn. I was gonna run to Granny's, but I kinda just–"
"I'll make grilled cheese." Snow cut her off with a smile. Emma was in sweatpants for once and actually looked comfy, instead of crammed into jeans.
"Okay." The blonde nestled back into the plush sofa, wrapping the blanket around her. While Snow started on lunch, James ejected the DVD and put it back in its case, then proceeded to organize the DVD's a little bit. She didn't like how she felt the silence needed to be filled. She didn't like that she didn't know what to say. She didn't like the fact that she felt like a little girl right now, because she felt like running over to James and giving him the biggest hug in the world. Maybe it was because Henry was being so distant, and she now understood how they felt. Well, she had since Henry found out she lied to him about Neal, but she wasn't ready at that point. Instead of running over to him, she took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Dad?" Immediately, James jumped to his feet and turned around, eyes all concerned and loving. This was the second time she'd called him that, and it still made his heart jump just as much as the first time.
"Yeah, Emma?"
"Do you um… do you wanna go for a walk outside for a little bit?"
"Sure thing." He helped pull her off the couch and handed her her jacket. From the kitchen, Snow smiled to herself. Once they were outside, away from where Henry could here, she spoke up again.
"I'm worried about him."
"We all are, Emma." James assured her. He wanted to shorten her name, but she had called him 'Dad' again, and he didn't want to push too hard. So he wrapped an arm around her shoulder as the leaned against the hood of his truck. "He's a tough kid. He'll get through this."
"It's not that easy." She said quietly. "I told you earlier about… how I had it. And… it took me a long time to get over. I mean, I guess I might as well tell you why I had PTSD, as long as you promise not to kill the nearest person."
"I promise." He said, even quieter than she had been speaking. He was afraid that if he made too loud a noise, she'd run away. After a deep breath and a pause, she said,
"I was stabbed when I was nineteen during a fight with one of my bail jumpers. It… was bad. They… the doctors, they told me I flat lined on the table and…" her throat suddenly seized up, and she felt like she couldn't breathe, especially around the lump in her throat, and it surprised the Hell out of her. She had dealt with it nine years ago. No, this most certainly wasn't a panic attack, right? Sure, she hadn't talked about it since she was done with her shrink eight years ago, but still… she was over it. James held her tighter, but he could feel his own panic rising. He knew how to deal with angry Emma, sad Emma, murderous Emma, but scared Emma? This was the first time he'd seen her scared like this. On the boat –ship, as Hook constantly corrected them– she'd done a good job of hiding her fear for Henry's safety due to the other people on it. But now was a whole different story. He did the only thing he knew how to do: hug her and whisper comforting words into her hair in between the light kisses. It felt like minutes, but was really only moments, by the time she pulled away, eyes shining with tears, but stubbornly refusing to let them fall. "I don't want him to go through what I went through." She whispered.
"Well…" he started slowly, "it's already happening, but what you can do is be there for him, something I'm guessing you didn't have?"
"I saw a shrink for nine months or so… I mean, I had support there, but… no, not in the way you mean. But I fought it for so long, and I was in denial, and I don't want that to happen to Henry. I want him to get better as soon as possible. But I don't want to send him to Archie too soon, you know? I want him to understand that it's ok and he'll be fine and… and that there's nothing wrong with him."
"He'll know, Emma." James rubbed her back. "We'll make sure of that."
"C'mon." She pushed off of the hood of the truck, his promise bringing them into mushy-off-limits-territory. "I'm hungry."
They ate, once again, in silence. And, again, Henry was done well before everyone else. And, once again, he ran up to his and Emma's room. After putting her plate in the sink, Emma excused herself to have a talk with Henry. She knocked on the door.
"You can come in, Mom." The boy said softly. Emma smiled a little bit as she entered. He knew it was her.
"How'd you know it wasn't David?" She asked, suddenly not sure she'd be able to have this conversation without losing her grilled cheese.
"Dunno." He mumbled with a shrug. "Gramps walks louder, and I can't ever here Grandma's footsteps. You're somewhere in between, so…" another shrug.
"Oh." She said. "Can I sit?" She gestured toward the bed. She had been meaning to get a twin bed to stick in there, but they needed the dresser since the closet couldn't hold all of their clothes. She was beginning to think Snow was right; they needed a bigger house.
"Yeah." He nodded, staring at his hands, which were wringing in his lap. He scooched over a little bit.
"Henry, I want to talk to you about something, but I need you to keep an open mind." She said slowly.
"You're asking me to keep an open mind?" He almost smiled.
"Point taken." She laughed, if only to cover up her nervousness. "But um, I don't really know how to put this. I've never had to do this before, so I guess I'll just lay it all out there and um, you can take from it what you will." She took a deep breath, then made the plunge. "What you've been through these past few months must've been confusing and scary."
"Not really." He said quietly. Emma didn't need her lie detector to know he wasn't telling the truth.
"Okay, cut the crap, Kid." She said. "I won't tick of a list of everything, but you've almost died twice. You've been kidnapped, and that's not even counting the fact that your life has been completely taken apart and put back together. With duct tape."
"Gramps wasn't scared! Grandma wasn't scared! You weren't!" She hadn't been expecting him to have an angry outburst. Not at all. Which was why she raised her voice, too.
"You think I wasn't scared Henry? We all were! I was scared you were gonna–" Emma's voice broke. After a breath she said, much quieter, "I was scared we were too late." He deflated, too, and threw himself into her welcoming arms, shaking with sobs. "It's okay to be scared, Henry." She whispered, stroking his hair.
"But I'm a prince." He sniffled. "Princes don't get scared." Oh, how she wished David was having this conversation with him. Not that she didn't doubt he and Snow were standing outside their door now, eavesdropping. She pried him off of her side so she could look him in the eye.
"Everyone gets scared, Henry. It doesn't matter if you're a prince, the queen of England, an astronaut, or Regina Mills. Everyone does. What makes you any different?"
"Cause I'm the son of the Evil Queen and the Savior." Henry insisted.
"Regina and I are just people, Henry." She really didn't want to tell him about her past, but it looked like she had no choice. "Do you know what PTSD is?"
"I think so." He said with a nasally voice. "But I don't have–"
"I did." She cut him off, a resolve to her she didn't even know she had. She was going to get him to understand that fear is nothing to be ashamed of, dammit, even if it killed her. "Nine years ago, I was stabbed. I almost died. I had PTSD, but I saw a therapist and I'm better. You will be fine, Henry. I promise you that."
"You did?" His eyes widened in surprise. "I can't… I can't picture you ever being scared. I didn't think you did."
"Yeah, well." She rolled her eyes, dragging him off the bed with her. "That's what I want people to think. Come on, I think Mary Margaret's making brownies now. I can smell 'em." On their way down the stairs, Henry said,
"So I have to see Archie again?"
"You don't have to do anything. I just think it would help. A lot."
"Okay." He nodded after a moment. "If you think it'll help."
"Okay." She smiled, squeezing his hand. "I can call him and see if he has an appointment today..?"
"Okay." He repeated. He felt better. At least now he didn't have to pretend he was fine, and that alone made a difference.
