PLEASE REVIEW. I'M ACHING TO KNOW WHAT THE FEEDBACK IS! THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING. I DECIDED TO ADD IN A BIT OF HENRY'S CHARACTER AND PHILOSOPHY. NO STATEMENTS ARE BEING MADE. THANKS GUYS.
Henry breathed a sigh of relief the minute both Emma and Elizabeth were asleep. They both needed sleep. They both needed rest. Dark circles under Emma's eyes matched her mother's. After the screaming match between mother and daughter the night before, whatever rest either one of them had gotten was brief and full of heaviness. This was the closest he'd seen the two of them together since the hospital. If you didn't count the fighting times.
But watching them both sleep, he could see the resemblance. Once the weight of the world had been temporarily set aside reluctantly, they looked like they'd fought a war that refused to end. The way they both leaned their head to the side. Emma had her mother's nose. The way they tucked their knees up to their chest as they slept. Steady, rhythmic breathing.
Looking at the three members of his family that were present, he mentally checked off that at least at the moment, those three were safe and secure.
His mind wandered to his two other children, who had come to him after their shopping trip, shaken by their experience. The descriptions from his two older daughters of what happened had rattled Henry, and he hadn't even been present. Allison had buried her head in chest, begging to be held close. She felt guilty about her reaction, knowing that it had hurt Emma. But Stevie, while remorseful, had taken the angry route – anger at what had happened to Emma. And while they both regretted their reaction, Henry had assured them that they hadn't intended it to be so alienating and embarrassing to their sister. Stevie said Emma had refused to look at or even acknowledge them the entire ride home, despite both of their sincerest apologies.
Henry had assured them that things would get better, and he thought he'd hidden the doubt he felt from them. He just encouraged them to keep trying, but that there were going to be times like this.
If only he could believe himself.
Stevie had left to be with Dimitri, and part of Henry was glad that Stevie had someone else to rely on. His resources were dwindling.
Allison had sat with him for a while, but she'd decided to go to bed early, probably exhausted from the entire ordeal.
He'd been in the Residence when Emma had come back from her debriefing, but he didn't think it mattered in the long run. She'd gone in her room, slammed the door, and he hadn't seen her until he walked out to find them watching a movie early that morning.
Worry seemed his constant companion. Closed doors and worry.
Would it ever get better? Were they empty words he fed to his children? Was he giving them false hope? He liked to think he was giving them hope to continue believing that their sister would get better. He had faith. But it was weak. Weaker each day.
"But a dauntless faith believes."
Sometimes he hated how much he'd learned about Thomas Aquinas. So much that the quotes came to his mind, sometimes to chastise. Some to encourage. Perhaps this one was to simply bandage his broken and bleeding feet as he journeyed through the pit of despair. Giving him a bandage that would get him one more day of hope. Was it even enough to get him through a day? Maybe an hour of hope. No matter what, he had to believe that his daughter would find healing. Or that he'd have the strength to continue believing for others.
Perhaps the opposite of faith wasn't doubt. Maybe the opposite of faith was certainty. If he was certain that everything would turn out fine, he wouldn't need faith. Faith came to the hobbling and bleeding, who were anything but certain they'd reach the healing they needed.
He thought back to his prayer at the church during Emma's rescue. Maybe the rescue was still going on, this time rescuing her personhood from those who had taken her innocence and years of her life from her. He was not certain that it would get better. He couldn't be. Worry played too much a part in his mind. "Small faith." He whispered.
Only one thing was certain. His feeble faith would be tested before the sun rose that morning.
He noticed stirring on the couch, and he watched as Emma started to grow restless. First she adjusted her head a few times against the cushions. Then he could see her eyes were active under her eyelids, a movie playing in her mind without permission. Then her fingers clenched into fists, and she began to shake her head.
Henry stood up from his chair, so he could be right by Emma. He hated to wake her if this was just the result of a body deep in REM sleep, or just a blip in her messed up sleep cycle. Maybe she had adjusted her body in a painful position with her stitches and once she readjusted, she'd settle back to the sleep she needed.
But then the whimpering started.
And in the space of one second, Elizabeth jolted awake, her eyes jumping to Henry and a sleepy but alert "Henry, what's wrong?" shot from her mouth. Then she stepped towards him and Emma.
The quiet whimpering turned to whispered, "no" over and over again.
Jason, interrupted and startled from Elizabeth jumping up, backed up into the corner of the couch to give them room, the concern was evident on his son's face. No time for bravado now.
Elizabeth knelt down, right next to Emma, and touched Emma's arm, "Emma, baby, it's just a dream." But that didn't shake her from her sleep. Instead Emma began to rock her body back and forth, now crying out as if in pain.
This time harder, Elizabeth shook Emma's arm. "Wake up. It's a dream." But the fear was unmistakable even in those few words. Terror, even.
Then Emma's eyes flew open.
And maybe it was reflexive. Maybe. But Henry saw it about to happen before it did. Emma's hand pulled away from her mothers, and immediately became a weapon, her hand clawing for anything to grab hold of. Right for Elizabeth's face.
Henry grabbed both Emma's wrists, simply trying to block anyone from getting hurt.
A loud scream, unearthly and unlike anything Henry had heard before, came from Emma. Full of anger and fear. Before he knew what was happening, Emma twisted her arms enough to rip them from Henry's grasp, but instead of a retreat that Henry expected as she realized where she was, Emma screamed, something that sent barbs of fear down his spine. And before he knew what was happening, he watched Emma strike out again at him, this time her fingernails shredding into his arms held back in a defensive position. Sharp, burning pain shot through Henry.
He didn't know what was happening. Elizabeth was yelling for Emma to stop. Jason jumped up, but didn't know where to help, standing looking on with utter confusion and fear.
Emma, like a wild animal backed into a corner, pulled back and prepared for another strike. And then he noticed. Her eyes were unfixed. Almost glazed over. Emma attempted to lunge at him again, but this time Elizabeth grabbed Emma from the back, wrapping her arms around the crazed child, pulling Emma's thrashing body to her chest.
"EMMA!" Elizabeth yelled, "EMMA STOP!" Fear mingled with anger flew from his wife, as she held Emma in a powerless position while she continued to struggle.
Then it was over.
The body in his wife's arms went limp. Her breathing labored and heavy from exertion. She focused on Henry and a split second of realization hit her.
Henry watched as Emma swallowed hard, her hands shaking pinned at her sides. Her face flushed with what Henry could only call embarrassment.
But Elizabeth held tight. More than necessary. "Stop."
With a shaky voice, Emma whimpered, "Let me go." Her bottom lip trembled. And she tried to twist away from the strong grasp.
"Elizabeth." Henry said, but it didn't register the first time.
"I'm fine." Emma's voice escalated, "Let go."
Henry waited until his wife's eyes met his, and he reached down and touched Elizabeth's arms, "Elizabeth, it's ok."
The minute Elizabeth relaxed her grip, Emma wrenched away, her entire body shaking. She turned to face both of them. Her eyes were filled with tears. She shook her head, backing away from them. She whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then she finally turned and ran out of the room.
Nothing moved in the room for a few seconds, like the tension had filled the space that nothing had anywhere to go. Henry stared after Emma for a while, reminding himself to take a breath, he simply could not move. His body would not process what had happened.
Then Elizabeth's voice broke the silence.
Strong. Strong enough to make him double take as he turned to find her standing to her feet. She looked dead into his eyes, and with no hesitation, she said, "I'm calling Will."
"You think Uncle Will can help that?" Jason asked incredulously. And a hint of fear. "That was not normal. That was… psychotic."
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. That was the fight in 'fight or flight.' And we can't handle this alone."
"Neither can she." Henry whispered.
