Downton Abbey is always beautiful, but it becomes sort of haunting in the rain.
The air is thick with rain, the smell of wet earth filling her nose as she stands just outside the house, still protected from the moisture by the little alcove she's sequestered herself away in and the brim of her hat. Her hands are folded in front of her, but beneath her gloves no one would ever know that she is currently gripping her fingers so tightly she can feel her knuckles starting to go white. It looks so peaceful in the rain, such a sharp contrast to the inferno she feels under her skin, her magic begging to get out—but it can't.
There is no magic here.
Downton looks so much like Storybrooke in the rain, almost achingly so in the way the entire world has gone soft and gray all around her, but there is no magic to be found. Or if it is, it is far out of her reach, somewhere Emma cannot go.
All the time she spent not believing in Henry when he told her about magic, and now there isn't anything she wouldn't give to be able to use it again to get back to him.
"I'm sorry," she whispers to herself, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't come home to you. I'm trying, I promise I am. But I can't. You always believed in me, Henry…but I don't think the savior can even save herself right now. I'm so sorry…"
"Miss Swan?"
Not now.
She turns to Matthew just as she hears the rain pick up and he jogs into view, his blue eyes wide with concern, making him look like an injured puppy dog. "Mother sent me to find you. She said that something upset you during tea with Cousin Cora and Cousin Violet. Is…is anything wrong?"
"No," she says quickly, too quickly, so quickly that Matthew blinks at her in surprise. "No," she repeats, her voice softer this time. "I just…I needed some air…"
"It's freezing," he says quietly, and Emma suddenly grasps the fact that she is cold, colder than she allowed herself to realize. "You should get inside. You'll catch cold."
She stares at him, the grey tweed of his hat dark with rain, the wet patches on the shoulders of his suit jacket. "So will you."
"I was concerned about you, Miss Swan. I wanted…I wanted to make sure that you were all right."
I'm not used to people putting me first.
"I…."
I miss my parents, she wants to say. I miss my son—the son I can't even tell you about just in case you toss my ass to the curb for being some kind of fallen woman. I miss my Bug. I miss Killian and Belle, and Ruby and Granny and Regina, and the sea, and…
"I miss home," she says finally.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Matthew says, sounding truly sorry.
"And the funny thing is, I never had a home growing up, not really." He looks about to ask her something, but she plows on, knowing she won't be able to answer his questions with any degree of truth, for some reason unable to stomach the thought of lying to him again, not when he's out here in the rain with her and looking at her like that. "And now I have one…or maybe I have two. Maybe this could be home. I don't know. But someone…someone told me once that you don't have a home until you just…miss it."
To his credit, he doesn't push her after that. He doesn't ask her anymore questions, or try to tell her that it will all be all right, or entreat her to come inside with him where it's warm and dry. He doesn't say another word. He just edges slightly closer to her, close enough that she can hear him breathing, as they stand there and watch the rain.