What is it? Five more days? Woohoo! I'm so excited!
Like a twenty-foot wave the heat hit Emma so forcefully she almost stumbled back. She struggled through the moving crowd. It undulated, arms swinging, screams echoing in her head. She pushed people aside, shoving bodies away from her. She heard someone scream her name and a little part of her told her to turn around because running into a house fire was a horrible idea. It could only end badly. But every other fiber of Emma's being charged through the hundreds of people. When Snow had taken off, it was like she had run away from Emma. The thin tether holding them together had snapped and slapped Emma as it recoiled. One moment she had Snow White looped in her arm, the next she was gone, headed straight for an ominous fire.
Up ahead, Emma saw her short black head dive through the front door; for a woman with a hurt leg, she moved fast. Emma lunged, like a runner, over someone's fallen body. Her foot touched down on the hard bricks of the walkway and in three long strides she was propelled through the door. Emma coughed immediately, the sweltering heat unbearable. She thought with all the fire, seeing would not be on the list of current problems, but the flames burned so brightly, they seemed to burn her very eyes away. Emma squinted, lifting an arm over her head as if she were outside, blocking the sun from her vision- as if it would help.
"SNOW!" Emma called.
She could not even imagine why Snow would come in here, but she knew she had to get Snow out. Whether or not Emma was ready to admit it, Snow was her friend and her mother. She had just gotten her back after almost thirty years. She had just learned that she was not truly abandoned; at least not in the way she had been led to believe. Their relationship may not have been steady, she may have still felt the lingering traces of utter hate, but she was not about to let her mother go that easily. She was damn sure not about to lose her in a fire.
Emma's jacket was already starting to stick to her. Getting away from the front door, where the smoke was making its way out in billowing clouds, Emma ran deeper into the house. She jumped the two short steps that brought her into the dining room. The broken chandelier still sat shattered on the table, which had yet to catch fire. Emma whipped around in her spot, searching for Snow. The house gave a great shutter and like a skyscraper collapsing, a great moaning noise came from the left. Emma turned in time to catch the roof collapsing over where she knew the office sat- had sat.
"Emma!" she heard right before a body crashed into her.
Emma threw her arms out and wrapped them around a muscular man. Steadying them both, Emma found herself once again in the arms of James. In the fire, his blue eyes sparkled. He grabbed Emma's arm roughly and yanked her from the dining room.
"Get out!" he yelled to her, pointing to the door.
"I have to get her," she shouted back. She pulled her arm out of his grasp and doubled over in a fit of coughing. Breathing in the smoke was like swallowing sand, every breath scratched at her throat and burned her esophagus.
James grabbed her again, using her moment of weakness against her. As he pushed Emma toward the door a yell caught their ears. Emma straightened up and sprinted around James heading for the stairs. Hot on her heels, James took the stairs three at a time. They reached the landing and spotted a body diving into a bedroom. James took Emma's hand and pulled her behind him. The fire had consumed almost everything but the floor of the upstairs. It hadn't just been the office that had collapsed, Emma now realized it was the entire left side of the house. Henry's door still stood intact, but the red flames licked at it, its tendrils crawling over the beige walls, chasing them. James pulled them into a spare bedroom.
They found Snow on the other side of the large carpeted bedroom, pulling the closet doors open. James leapt forward, catching her around the waist and pulled her away. Like Snow was nothing more than a rag doll, he dragged her from the room, pulling Emma close. As they approached the stairs, Snow started to fight.
"Stop!" she screamed. "I have to find her!"
James dropped Emma's hand to get a better grip on his wife, but Emma wondered if Snow even realized they were there. She struggled against James, calling Regina's name. Emma lunged and wrapped her arms around Snow, helping James keep her in place. The house rumbled again and the wooden beams above them screamed. As one of them tumbled to the floor, James tackled both Snow and Emma pushing them all into a wall.
"Emma, go!" James ordered.
The way he said it, the utter command in his voice, Emma knew it was not something she could argue with; but she could find a loophole. Emma took Snow's hand and ran as fast as she could down the stairs. With James half- carrying Snow, they made it quickly down the stairs.
"Regina!" Snow cried in their arms, but James pushed them harder out of the door.
The air outside was not much better, but Emma gasped, desperate for it. As the clean air mingled with the particles in her throat she choked, stumbling from the door and into the shadowy grass of the mayor's front yard. Awkwardly holding onto Snow and James, Emma tripped, just in time, as a glass bottle soared over her head and smashed against the side of the house. She turned, watching as James stood from the grass and grabbed the lapels of a tall man with dark black hair. The man pushed James away and swung, not catching James with his full force but with enough to send her father tumbling back. Furious, Emma pushed herself up and arched her body, spinning and landing a perfect first against the man's nose. He feel back, collapsing against three other people and Emma hobbled away, clutching her burning fist. She bit her lips, feeling tears welling in her eyes. The guy had a nose like a rock. Snow came up beside her and gently took her hand.
"Everyone stop!" James ordered with his hands outstretched.
His voice was low over the rumbling of the house behind him and the wailing sirens of a fire truck. Emma wondered who had thought to bring it. Men dressed in their typical uniforms charged forward pulling Emma, Snow, and James away from the house and preparing their hoses. James pushed away from them, letting the firemen do their jobs while he stepped back into the crowd shouting at people to leave and move away. As the blaze died under the thick jets of water attacking it, the crowd seemed to fizzle out, their overwhelming anger drowning under the noise of the spraying water. Most people hurried away, grabbing onto their spouses, eyeing a glowering King James as he approached every single person and demanded they leave at once. Emma watched people wilt under her father's powerful glare, bow deeply, and beg for forgiveness. Still he did nothing but march up and down the lawn, forcing Storybrooke's citizens away.
Emma turned, searching for Snow. She spotted her running back towards the house. Emma was about to follow after her, when Snow slowed down and approached a fireman and talked with him seriously. Sighing with relief, Emma turned away, running her hands through her hair. Across the street was still a small crowd of people. Having to squint into the darkness now that the fire was calming, Emma realized it was Ruby—Red- and some of the dwarves. With them was Henry.
"Shit," Emma breathed to herself. She ran across the street and straight up to Red who coddled a sobbing Henry in her arms.
"Look, it's your mother," said Red, drawing Henry's eyes up.
He stood up and sped over to Emma, colliding with her stomach and knocking the wind out of her. Emma wrapped her body around his, as she always did and sighed as Henry's body shook uncontrollably.
"Is she dead?" Henry screamed through his sobs.
Emma got down on her knees and took a good look at her son. What had she done to him? His eyes were blood red and puffy as if he were sick and hadn't slept in days. Mucus ran down from his nose and his cheeks puffed with the shaky gasps he was drawing in. Her hands shook, with Henry's full body trembling. This was the complete mental breakdown she was afraid of happening, the one she knew was coming.
"I don't know," she whispered to him, drawing her son down into her lap. Emma cradled him right there in the middle of the street, feet away from his destroyed home.
As much as she wanted Regina dead and forever out of their lives, Emma knew that she would never be able to do it. The woman had taken care of her son for his entire life and he had turned out all right- a little damaged, but who wasn't. Emma was grateful for that. She could never get those ten years back with Henry, but at least she knew he was provided for and he had been safe. And Emma knew Henry loved her. Regina was his mother, there was no getting around that; for the rest of her son's life, Regina would be his second mother. What kind of person would Emma be if she killed her son's mother? No, Emma would never hurt Henry like that. She never wanted him to feel the way he did now, confused and terrified. A hand pushed gently on Emma's shoulder.
"She wasn't inside. You should take him home," said Snow above her.
Emma looked up and nodded. Snow gave her a sad smile and then walked away going over to Red. Scooping Henry up into her arms, like a baby, Emma stood and found her father.
"Give me your keys," she said to him.
James gave her a stern look and shook his head. "The truck's open. We're coming with you."
Emma turned and glanced back at Snow who was engaged in conversation with Red and the dwarves. "It doesn't look like Snow's ready to leave and I have to get—"
"Get in the truck, Emma," James cut her off. He stalked away, his back swaying as he went over to his wife.
Clamping her mouth shut, Emma carried Henry over to the truck and slid him into the back seat. As Snow had done earlier- God, was it still the same day- Henry clutched onto Emma's clothing, refusing to let her go. Emma climbed in and placed Henry's head down on her lap. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
"I'm so sorry, Henry," she whispered over his hiccups. "I promise I'm going to fix everything. It's all going to get better."
It was an empty promise and she knew it. She could not guarantee that things would not get worse; and the way Snow and James marched to the truck signified that she had indeed lied about her promise. They got in the car silently. James turned the ignition, the muscles in his back bulging. Emma had never seen David mad, and she had barely seen James truly angry, but she supposed this was what it looked like. There was a mask of calm over him that might have fooled an unknowing person, but underneath, his body tensed with fury. Snow stared at him, her jaw clenched tightly. Emma wondered if something had happened outside of the car, or if the two had just silently agreed that they were angry with one another. As they pulled away from the street, Emma looked back, eyeing the blackened house and wondering what on earth they were going to do.
The ride back was quiet. Snow occasionally glared at James out of the corner of her eye, James ignored her, and Emma sat in the middle glancing over at the two of them. Henry had stopped sobbing and had now been reduced to a fit of violent shivering, which Emma assumed was even worse then the crying. She stroked her hands over his cheeks and through his hair, hoping she could just get him to bed. They pulled up to the cub and James stopped the car, turning the ignition back quickly.
"James-" started Snow, but he got out and almost slammed the driver's side door. Snow turned in her seat and licked her lips slowly before getting out herself.
James came around and opened the door for Emma. He reached in, offering to take Henry. Too exhausted to argue, her son shifted into James' arms and was lifted away. Emma followed them all, closing the truck door behind her. Snow opened the door for them and when they entered the apartment James set Henry back to his feet. Henry immediately ran for the couch and buried his face in a pillow. Emma ran over to him and rubbed her hand on his back. She couldn't tell if he was crying, but already she knew it was going to be a long night.
"James, stop ignoring me," said Snow quietly.
Over her shoulder, Emma watched as she and James walked through the sheer white curtain of their bedroom. Already, she could hear their voices.
"Are they having a fight?" said Henry.
His small voice reminded Emma that he was just a child, and all of this was too much. She smiled sadly at him and patted his shoulders.
"How about we go upstairs?" she said, shrugging.
Henry agreed and so she helped him off the couch. As they walked through the small apartment, Henry leaned into her. He was tired. This was the first night in a long time that he seemed almost eager to go to bed. Emma dropped her arm over his shoulder and pushed him along. When they got to the first step, they both jumped.
"What is it that you wanted me to do?" came Snow's voice, loudly.
Emma turned to Henry. "Go upstairs."
Henry nodded with a scared glance at the white curtain. He ran up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. Emma walked to their room, hoping she could run interference before it got too bad. She realized that this was the first time she was hearing her parents fight and a tiny voice in the back of her mind squealed. She had finally found her parents and was now getting to be a part of one of their fights. Her strange enjoyment lasted only a second before James' voice came ringing through the sheet.
"Please, Snow, why don't you tell me what was going on inside your head, because I can't figure out why you would run into a burning building."
"I was thinking that someone had to go in there and get her and it wasn't going to be you or anyone else," Snow snapped.
Emma pushed the curtain aside and found Snow and James standing in front of each other on the left side of the bed. In front of her was Snow, a pink heat working its way up her cheeks, but that was nothing compared to James. He was smoldering, the smoke seconds away from shooting out of his ears.
"You're right. It wasn't going to be me. Have you forgotten what she's done to us?"
"James, she's my mother," Snow insisted, holding her hands out in front of her chest.
"Step-mother," he corrected.
Snow huffed and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I am responsible for what happens to her-"
"Guys," Emma interjected, sliding herself into the room.
"You are responsible for four people in this world, Snow, and every single one of them is in this house."
"Stop being naïve," Snow ordered. "You and I both know that we have a responsibility everyone in this town and whether you like it or not, Regina is mine."
"Regina has to get what's coming to her," James snapped.
"And if she's killed, her blood is on my hands. This is my fault. I have to fix it."
"This is not about you!" James roared.
"Do not yell at me!" Snow hissed, stepping forward.
"This is about our family, a family you're going to put in jeopardy if you keep wandering away."
Snow scoffed, "I don't need your permission. You are not my father, James."
They had inched much closer now, their voices rising with each turn. Emma stepped further into the room and moved closer, hoping they would notice her and tone it down. She felt awkward about jumping in, something she would have easily done if it were any other couple, but something about watching two people more in love than she even knew was possible argue so vehemently froze her in her place.
"I don't need you to tell me what to do and I don't need you scolding me like a child. I have done perfectly fine taking care of myself, just as I always have."
"I am not David!" James shouted. "I'm not some weak man you can shun or turn away from. I am your husband!"
Snow's eyes welled with tears as she stepped even closer to James. "Well, then start acting like it! Stop trying to be the king-"
"Okay, stop!" shouted Emma, stepping between the two of them. She stuck her arms out, pressing against both of their chests, to push them back, but it was like trying to pry apart two buildings, both of them immoveable.
"I'm trying here, Snow!" James argued, his face growing red. "You're the one who's not talking to me. You insist on doing things alone. If you want me, then want me!"
"That's enough," Emma pushed harder, shoving James back a few steps.
The tears were flowing steadily down Snow's face now and the pain she was feeling was evident. Emma hated seeing her that way, and she had pushed James away, angry at him for making Snow cry. But now, pressed against his chest, Emma noticed how badly he was shaking. His blue eyes dulled with a layer of salty tears, too. He and Snow stared at each other, through Emma, silently communicating, as she noticed they often did, and then he shook his head. Walking out of Emma's arms, James marched to the doorway spinning around twice.
"Where the hell is my sword!" he yelled, his frustration belting out. Perhaps realizing that this was not their castle, he ran a heavy hand over his head and marched straight from the room.
"Do not walk away from me," Snow cried. "James!"
Snow chased him out of the room and jumped when the door slammed in her face. Emma stood behind her and closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe if she closed them, the world could disappear and take all the pain with it. Where had those moments gone, those peaceful moments in the woods where her family had smiled and laughed? Emma opened her eyes and the world had not changed. Snow had not moved from her stance in front of the door. Emma touched her shoulder, but Snow shrugged it away. Emma felt a little hurt, but when she saw the trembled in Snow's bottom lip she dismissed her own emotions. Not sure she could stand the tears, Emma faltered. She wanted to help—she did- but she had no idea what she could do. Snow blinked back a few more tears and then turned away from the door, huffing out a quiet sob. Emma hesitated, wanting to know if Snow would be alright, and then she ran out of the door.
Emma flew down the stairs and out through the final door, hit by how cold the night had become. She wondered when the temperature had dropped and then remembered that she hadn't noticed it because of the fire. Had that really just happened? Three days had gone by and already Emma felt like it had been two months. How could so much happen in three days?
Emma searched the street and found a tall body almost at the end of the block.
"Hey!" she shouted, jogging down the sidewalk. "Hey!"
The figure, which she knew to be James, spun around slowly. When Emma caught up she was struck by how angry he really looked. In the bedroom it had been difficult, the tension causing physical pain for Emma, but out here in the dark, James looked menacing, like he could rip off another human's head without the bat of his eyelashes. Emma put her hands up defensively.
"You can't leave," she said. He didn't say anything, but looked away, clenching his fists at his side. He shook his head.
"Look, I know you're angry. I get it; trust me, I do. You have every right to be. But you can't just leave us."
"Emma," he sighed.
"No," she talked over him. "Everything is just wrong right now, okay. I know emotions are running high and everybody's angry with everyone else, but…My life crap right now. I don't even know what the truth is anymore, I'm an awful mother, and half the time, I'm so scared I can't breathe. I just need something to be constant. And if Snow freakin' White and Prince Charming can't get along then that just means that the world really is the shitties, most god-awful place I thought it was."
James turned to face her now, the anger melting away to be replaced by an awful sadness. His eyes dropped and she saw this man for what he truly was: broken. Emma took a deep breath. She was expressing things she would never usually put into words, but it seemed like James just dragged them out of her. She wanted to tell him the truth; she wanted him to understand.
"I know I'm being really selfish here," she said, bowing her head, "but could you please just go back in there, kiss and make up. For my sake…please."
Emma bit her lip waiting for his response. It was totally selfish, the reason she wanted him to stay. She didn't want them angry with each other and she hated seeing them in pain, but more importantly, she couldn't stand the sight of him walking away from her. Just like when Snow ran off into the fire and Emma had chased after her, barely knowing what she was doing, she felt a tether between herself and James- a paper- thin line that would rupture if he went too far away. And so she wanted him to stay, from now on and forever always close to her. It was something Emma had never felt before. Never in her life, had her own happiness depended on being close to other people. She didn't even truly know how she felt about them yet; she just knew she needed them.
James eyed her for a moment longer, making her hands grow sweatier. Would he reject her? He could turn away at any second and round the corner, severing the flimsy connection they had. Emma was not sure they would ever be able to get it back. But she didn't have to worry because James walked to her and enveloped Emma in his great muscular arms.
Emma relaxed instantly and laid her head on her father's chest. Her father's chest—something she was sure she would never get to say. The feeling was beyond words. To hug a man that wanted nothing from her, just her willingness to be his daughter, was marvelous and it brought tears to Emma's eyes. She scoffed to herself. Now she was crying about hugging men? But Emma let the small line of tears flow freely, savoring each second of contact not knowing when it would happen again; if it would happen again; if she would ever again be able to handle it.
James pulled back and looked down into Emma's eyes. "I would do anything for you, Emma."
Emma could only nod, afraid that her voice might crack if she tried to speak. James chuckled lightly and turned her around, holding her in the pocket he created with his arm draped across her back.
"You're a daddy's girl, you know that," James braved, smiling at her.
"No, I'm not," Emma shot back immediately. It took her a moment to realize that he hadn't meant it as an insult. He had meant it as a compliment, his way of almost claiming her and she claiming him. They belonged to each other.
"Yeah, yeah you are," he said.
Emma rolled her eyes and turned her head away, but a small smile lit her face as she walked alongside her father, back into their home.
My gosh. This one was so hard to write. I don't like when I have Snow and James fight, but I think it makes them like every other real couple. But this chapter really was a struggle for me. Let me know what you guys think. Nos vemos pronto!