Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'd love to own a Killian Jones, though.
Well, you and I collapsed in love
And it looks like we might have made it
Yes, it looks like we've made it to the end.
~ To the End - Blur ~
Emma woke up stretching her limbs and humming sleepily, random images of a half-remembered dream dancing lazily in her brain. Reluctant to enter the realm of wakefulness completely just yet, she turned around and buried her face in one of her pillows.
Wait, pillows?
Everything came back to her, the memories hitting her like a ton of bricks. The false lead to the cave. The false hope. Flying through the Neverland sky. Seeing her son under a curse. Tinkerbell's face contorted with maniac hatred and malice.
Tinkerbell. What a little bitch.
Emma wanted to kick herself repeatedly on the ass for being so naïve and trusting the damn pixie. She had sensed that something was off the minute Tinkerbell had been so insistent in her going alone without telling the others. But then, her mind and soul had been invaded with concern for Henry's wellbeing as he was supposedly under the Shadow's hands, so she hadn't stopped to consider the implications of the pixie's request. Besides, she had never found a reason to doubt her, especially seeing that Killian trusted her...
Emma's heart panged painfully in her chest when she realized that, normally, she would instantly have suspected that Killian was involved in Tinkerbell's dark schemes and that he had played along with them all the time as well. But she didn't believe that for one second. She knew better. He had proved himself to be worthy of her trust many a time now.
She vaguely registered being laying in a soft, comfortable surface, covered in blankets and surrounded by pillows. That was what had made her realize that she had actually fallen under the infamous curse. She opened her eyes slowly and confirmed that she was, in fact, lying on a bed. A quick scan of her surroundings made her gasp in astonishment.
She was in her room in her and Mary Margaret's apartment.
The delicate, homemade quilt, the brick walls, the vintage furniture. Everything was still the same. She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Apart from the shock reflected in her eyes and in her perpetually dropped jaw, she looked the same. Well, also a little run-down from over a month of traipsing a jungle and living in a ship without as much access to hot water as she'd like.
Am I dreaming?
Tentatively, never taking her eyes off her reflection, her right hand reached her left forearm and she pinched hard.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
Well, apparently it's not a dream, she mused, watching the red marks that would soon leave a bruise on her skin. Fuck.
Oddly enough, a quote from one of her favorite books came to her head with great clarity.
"'Is this real, or is it happening inside my head?'
'Of course it's happening inside your head! But why on Earth should that mean that it's not real?'"
She had started reading the Harry Potter books shortly after the first ones came out. She was a teenager then, but she still had felt like she could relate to Harry in a certain way: both orphans, both unwanted. Now, she remembered those similarities between them with a bittersweet laugh. Both of us Saviors. The boy who lived and the girl who escaped to another realm through a wardrobe. But in the end he succeeded and saved the magical world, while I couldn't even protect my son.
After an extremely long and steamy – and definitely needed – shower, Emma was very tempted to crawl back into bed and keep enjoying the comfort that she had oh so missed during the whole journey, but she stopped short when she remembered that time was running out. Not only for her, but for Henry too.
She opened her wardrobe and found that all her clothes were still there. She changed into a pair of jeans, her faithful knee-high leather boots and her even more faithful burgundy leather jacket –the one she had worn during her time in the Enchanted Forest with Mary Margaret...and Killian – and decided to inspect the rest of the apartment.
Everything looked the same, except for one detail.
There were no pictures anywhere.
Her mother's photo albums were gone, and so were the portrait of both of them together that usually sat on her bedside table and the one of her with Henry. Emma gulped. What could this possibly mean?
Stepping out to the streets, she confirmed what she had already been suspecting: she was in Storybrooke. However, the town seemed to have an atmosphere of quietness that made Emma uneasy. Since she didn't know what day it was or what time it was (it was a cloudy day, so she couldn't even make a wild guess based on the Sun's position), she started walking down the street in search of a familiar face or, actually, anything that may help her. Seeing that there was always someone eating at Granny's and Red was Snow's best friend, it seemed like the best place to start. Heading towards the diner, she failed to notice that the clock tower was, once again, permanently stuck at 8:15.
The little restaurant was just the way Emma remembered it. There were only three or four scattered costumers eating what seemed to be a late lunch or starting earlier with their after-work beer. Neither Red nor Granny was in sight.
Emma sat on the counter, a couple of stools away from a man drinking a beer whose back was turned to her. He must have sensed her stare because he turned towards her and Emma recognized the balding head and the scruffy chin of the short man.
"Whatcha looking at, sister?" he snapped at her, not even trying to hide his rudeness.
"Leroy? What is g...?"
"Who are you, blondie? How the hell do you know my name?"
Emma stared at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish, unable to form a coherent word for a few moments.
"It's sewn on your overalls," she said weakly. Thank goodness he was wearing his work uniform. Otherwise, it would have quite an uncomfortable situation. Well, more uncomfortable that the current situation, that is.
Emma was saved by the bell just then, when a cheerful voice asked from behind the counter "What can I get you?"
When Emma turned towards the owner of that voice, she already had an idea of what she would find, considering what had happened so far since she woke up in this place, but it was still a little shocking to see Red back in her full Ruby attire: over-the-top make up, thick red streaks mixing with her black hair, and clothes so small and tight that would almost correspond to another completely different kind of job.
"Uhm...hot cocoa with cinnamon, please." For a moment, she was really tempted to make it Irish. She felt she'd need the booze. But Irish coffee –or cocoa– made her think of Killian, and the memories of him and their partnership in Neverland made her heart feel heavy inside her.
"Coming right up!" With that, Ruby disappeared to what Emma assumed was the kitchen. The woman turned around to notice that Leroy was gone now, and she didn't know the other costumers.
While waiting for her cocoa, Emma started to organize her thoughts and devise a plan of action. She was in Storybrooke; that was for sure. Judging by Leroy's and Ruby's reactions – or their lack of recognition, at least – towards her, nobody knew her here and they still had their cursed personalities. She needed to find Henry, but she was a stranger to the people in the town, she couldn't just go asking where to find a little boy without being considered a pervert or a creep. She had to find someone who could help her, someone she could trust...
"Here you go," exclaimed Ruby, placing the mug of cocoa in front of Emma. The sweet scent coming from the steamy beverage already was helping her relax.
"Thanks," she managed, with a small smile.
"Are you ok? You seem to be a little upset," Ruby asked, lifting her thickly lined eyebrows.
"Yeah, just...doing some thinking."
"You're new in town, aren't you? I don't remember having seen you around before."
Emma took a long gulp of cocoa, steadying herself before answering. "Yeah, I'm looking for an old friend. She was living here last time I heard from her. Mary Margaret Blanchard. Do you know her?" Her tone was neutral, keeping her hopes and fears at bay.
Ruby tapped her chin with the pen she was holding a few times, deep in thought. "No, I can't say that I have. Sorry."
Fuck.
"She works as an elementary teacher...at least that's what she told me last time I talked to her," she added quickly. She needed to stick up to her story in order not to raise suspicions. "I guess that if she already married her boyfriend, her name is Mary Margaret Nolan now."
"No honey, I've lived here my whole life and I've never met anyone called Mary Margaret or having the family name Nolan. Sorry," she gave Emma an apologetic smile and left her to wait a table.
Good thing she did so, because Emma didn't feel like crying in front of a stranger-but-not-really-one.
She wiped away the lonesome tear that broke free from her lashes and gulped down the rest of her cocoa, trying to calm herself down. No wonder there were no pictures of Snow in the apartment. Emma hadn't search thoroughly, but she guessed that if she did, she'd find none of her mother's possessions there. Because she didn't exist in this reality. And neither did her father.
Loneliness was not a foreign feeling for Emma Swan, but she had never, in her twenty-nine years of existence, felt more alone than now.
Throwing a five dollar note at the counter, she left the diner and headed to the police station. It was very far-fetched, even for this twisted alternative universe or whatever the hell it was, but maybe...just maybe, he would be there.
Opening the glass door of the sheriff office as if she'd owned the place –which she kind of did, but only in the real world, not here – she stood frozen, hand still in the doorknob, looking at the man in front of her.
"May I help you, Miss? Sheriff Dartbas, but you can call me Claude," despite the professional words, the tone of the stranger's voice and his unashamed leer were anything but professional.
"No, sorry. I thought you'd be someone else," Emma said weakly, before leaving as abruptly as she had arrived. Stupid, stupid Emma. This is a freaking curse, of course it's not gonna be nice and easy. Of course he's not going to be here.
But the truth is that she would have loved to see him at least once again, even if it was in this damn oneiric place, or whatever the hell the deal was with it.
A couple of hours later, Emma sat on a bench in the park to rest her sore feet – unfortunately, there was no yellow Bug or any other kind of vehicle at her disposal in this world – and muse over what she'd seen. So far she'd also spotted Mother Superior coming out of the church, Doctor Whale flirting with a nurse, and a couple more dwarves clocking out of their jobs. She'd gone to the place where Gold's pawn shop was supposed to be but it was an abandoned building. She'd approached the town limit and found no line sprayed on the pavement.
So far, things didn't look very promising.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the image of a little boy walking a Dalmatian. From the distance, Emma could only see his mop of brown hair, but when she heard him yell "Pongo! Wait!" she gasped and jumped from her seat. The sound of Henry's voice was like a balsam spreading love through her body. Before her mind could process what she was doing, she started walking fast towards him, almost jogging.
"Henry!" she exclaimed, full of joy, a wide grin on her face.
The boy stood still when he heard her calling his name, and it wasn't until Emma came to a halt in front of him that she registered the puzzled look in his face.
"Who are you?"
No.
No, no, no.
"Henry, it's me, Emma," she all but pleaded, feeling her eyes burn with tears.
"I don't know you. I have to go now. Come, Pongo," clearly freaked out, he turned around, tugging the dog's lease.
"Henry please, I'm Emma, your mom!" She put her hand on Henry's shoulder, and he instantly jerked away from her touch.
"Get away from me, lady! I don't know you, leave me alone!" he screamed.
"HENRY! Are you OK?" another familiar female voice exclaimed. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Emma watched as Regina quickly approached them and grasped Henry's shoulders gently, telling him to go wait inside their car. Without even looking back at her, the kid walked away with Pongo.
"Who the hell do you think you are and what are you doing talking to my son?" Regina asked Emma, her anger barely concealed.
"I'm Emma. I'm his...birth mom." Keeping her voice steady was proving to be harder and harder.
The dark-haired woman looked at her with wide eyes but, before she was able to reply, another person interrupted them. "Honey, is everything alright?"
At this point, Emma felt the last of her sanity leave her and had to make a conscious and extremely hard effort not to break into a hysteric laughter at the sight of Neal embracing Regina's waist and looking at her with puppy eyes full of concern and love. It kinda hurt that in the time they'd been together, he had never looked at her the way other-Neal was looking at other-Regina.
"This lady here is harassing Henry and claiming to be his birth mother," Regina told him, voice full of venom.
Neal examined Emma for a few moments as if she was a nasty boil.
"Okay, lady, here's the thing," he said, glaring daggers at Emma, "I don't know what the deal with you is and I really don't care, but I don't want you near my family ever again, or I'm going to throw you in jail. Let's go, honey." With that, they both turned around and went away in the same direction Henry had left ten minutes ago. Even though they were several feet away from her, Emma could still hear Neal's mocking laugh and his "Can you believe that crazy bitch?"
She didn't know how much time had passed until her muscles responded and she awoke from her semi-petrified state.
Henry didn't know her. And worse, he was scared of her.
Cora's hand squeezing her heart had hurt less than that.
She had limited time to save her son and herself from Tinkerbell's curse, and how was she supposed to do it if Henry didn't remember her? It would be extremely hard to see him again, especially because Emma figured that after that little scene, Regina and Neal would be watching the kid like a hawk, making sure she wouldn't come close to him again.
Feeling completely defeated, she headed back to the apartment. As she was not paying attention to her surroundings, she almost fell to the ground when someone collapsed with her. Okay, that was the last straw. Her nerves on edge, she was ready to give this person quite an earful, but she stopped short, frozen, when he - it was a man - spoke to her. "Sorry! Are you alright, lass?"