Summary: After a devastating fire destroyed their Boston home, Emma and Henry swan decided to relocate to NYC for a fresh start. Things began to fall into place quickly, and life started to look up for the mother and son duo.
Until one night, Henry discovered Emma sleepwalking
What started out as innocent late night strolls, soon became more serious, as Henry was forced to take more drastic actions to ensure both his and Emma's safety. How long could they continue to live this way, constantly fearing nighttime? And more importantly, what caused Emma to suddenly begin sleepwalking in the first place?
A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to my newest fanfiction. This little nugget came to me one day while I was at work, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. My original plan was for this to be a long one-shot, but as things usually go, the story had different ideas.
This is a fully written fiction, so there's no worry about it being abandoned. I'll post a new chapter every week, as I work through editing. Probably Tuesday afternoon, since that's my day off.
As always, I do not own Once Upon a Time, nor do any of the characters or places associated.
Without further ado, I present you: Sleepwalking
Chapter 1:
Late Night Rescue Mission
It all started a few weeks after we moved to New York City. A huge fire had destroyed our apartment, forcing us to move. We decided a change of scenery would help us move past the tragedy, so we packed up what little we had left, flipped a coin, and started driving to New York, leaving Boston behind. We found a decent apartment pretty quickly, and Mom got a great job working for another bail-bonds company, while I assimilated to middle school in New York easily. Everything was starting to look up for us.
Until one night, my mom started sleepwalking.
At first it wasn't that bad. I would hear her moving around in her bedroom in the middle of the night. I thought nothing of it in the beginning. Ever since the fire we both had trouble sleeping, so I just assumed she was pacing around in her room to help distract herself from the insomnia. But as the weeks progressed, her pacing began to sound faster, more frantic.
Things began to become a concern about six weeks after everything started. It was a Saturday night, and like always, I too was having trouble sleeping, so I snuck out into the living room to watch some late night television. At exactly 1:08 am, I heard my mom's bedroom door open. I was sure I was going to get into serious trouble for being up so late. But instead, she walked right past me to the front door, and started searching for her keys.
"Mom?" I ask, slowly making my way towards her. There was something strange about the way she moved. And her eyes, while they were wide open and alert, seemed glossy and distant. "It's one in the morning, where are you going?"
"I need to go home." She said, as she continued to rummage through the piles on the table by the front door.
"You are home, Mom." I said. "We live here in New York now. Remember the fire in Boston?"
"Not here. I have to go home to the forest. The Queen needs me." She said, finding her keys with triumph.
"What are you talking about? Seriously Mom, where are you going?"
"I told you, I need to go home to the forest, the Queen needs me." She said again, unlocking the front door. That was when I realized what was happening. She was sleepwalking.
"Why don't we go back to bed now, and tomorrow, when it's light out, we can take a trip to the forest." I said, prying the keys out of her strong hands.
"No, I need to go now. She needs me." She said again, her eyes still glossy and distant.
"The Queen told me we could wait until tomorrow morning. You need to get some sleep first." I said, guiding her back to bed.
I made sure everything was locked up tight before going to bed myself, making sure to keep her car keys with me the entire time, in case she got up again. I didn't sleep much that first night, waking up every so often to listen to see if I could hear her moving around again, but ever since I put her back to bed, everything was silent once again.
The next morning she woke me up with a knock on my door.
"Hey Kid, do you know where my keys are? I can't find them anywhere."
"Where are you going?" I asked suspiciously, hoping it wasn't to go save the Queen.
"Well, I was going to surprise you with a baconeggandcheese from the corner deli, but now you've ruined to surprise."
"Oh!" I said, relieved. "That sounds great, thanks Mom!"
"Well, since you're awake now, I don't have to worry about locking myself out while you're dead to the world. K, I'll be back in a little while. I'll find my keys after breakfast. Make some coffee for me while I'm gone? You make it better!" She smiled, rushing out of the room, on her mission for breakfast. We never spoke about her later night rescue mission.
That night I made sure to take her keys with me to bed, just in case. Sure enough, at 1:08am on the dot, I heard my mom's bedroom door open. I ran out to see her searching for her keys again, mumbling about needing to help the Queen. I directed her back to bed and stayed up most of the night, listening for more movement.
I spent that majority of the next day devising a plan to help my mom, without letting her know what was happening. She clearly didn't remember her late night rescue missions, and I wasn't planning on telling her.
That was the first night I set up what I called the "Mom Trap", which consisted of a small bell on a string that would ring if she tried to walk out the front door. I laid on the couch, waiting to hear the bell. The faintest sound of a ringing bell woke me up at 1:08am. The good news was, the trap worked and seemed to only wake me up. The bad news was, Mom was still sleepwalking. At least this way, I could get some sleep instead of staying awake all night listening. I just had to make sure to take down the trap before she woke up in the morning and go back to my bed before she got up for the day, and she would never know the difference.
That was how it went for the next couple of months. After Mom went to bed I would sneak out and set up the trap before falling asleep on the couch, waiting for my 1:08am wake up call. After directing Mom back to bed, I would go back to sleep on the couch, just in case she made a run for it again. I always set an alarm for a half hour before she was due to wake up to make sure I had time to take everything down and crawl back into my own bed to make it look like I slept there all night. I never anticipated a time when she would get up early. Mom never got up early. Until one day she did.
I was asleep on the couch when I suddenly heard her slippers against the tile floor.
"Henry? What are you doing on the couch?"
"I…uh…I couldn't sleep…so I came to lay on the couch and I guess I fell asleep after all." I lied. I knew I shouldn't have lied. She can always tell when I was lying.
"I know you're lying, Kid. But whatever." She said, as she walked towards the front door, no doubt going to retrieve the daily newspaper that we got delivered every morning. She stopped short when she felt the string against her ankles and heard the ringing of a small bell.
I hadn't had a chance to take down the trap.
"Henry? What the hell is this?" She asked, looking down at my "Mom Trap"
"Santa Trap?" I said, hoping my childlike innocence would get me out of this one.
"How about we try again."
"I'm scared of monsters?" I squinted, hoping she would drop it.
"You weren't even afraid of monsters when it was appropriate to be afraid of monsters. Now come one, tell me what's going on." I could tell she was getting frustrated. I guess it was bound to come out eventually. Looks like this was the time.
"Ok, so here's the thing. You sleepwalk, Mom."
"Seriously?" She asked, confused.
"Yeah. Every night at exactly 1:08am, you sleepwalk. It started a couple weeks after we moved here."
"Really?" She asked "Ok, so what's with the trap?"
"Well, you don't just walk around the apartment. Well, it started that way. But you keep trying to leave, so I have to keep bringing you back to bed. I'm afraid you're going to leave and end up getting hit by a car. So I set up the trap to wake me up when you try to leave, so I can bring you back to bed."
"You do this every night?" She asked. Now she was concerned about me.
"For the last couple months…yeah…"
"Henry! Why didn't you say anything?" She asked, finally sitting on the couch next to me.
"Because you don't remember anything in the morning. I didn't want you to feel weird about it. I don't mind doing it. In fact I like doing it. That way I know you are safe. You just got up early and I couldn't clean up."
"Henry, you can't keep doing this. It's crazy. You're twelve years old. You shouldn't have to take care of me. It's supposed to be the other way around. This ends now."
"Mom, no! What about when you sleepwalk again? You could get hurt! It's ok. I don't mind, really."
"We'll figure out something else. Something that doesn't require you to sleep on the couch." She said, "Now, is there anything else you're not telling me?"
"Ummm…maybe one thing…" I said, unsure if I want to tell her the last part.
"Tell me."
"When you sleepwalk, you say the same thing. You keep saying that you need to go home to the forest because the Queen needs you."
"What forest? What Queen?" She asked, confusion washing across her face.
"Don't know." I shrugged. "You never say. Just that you need to go home to the forest because the Queen needs you."
"Well, that's the strangest thing I've heard, and I just heard my twelve year old son try to convince me he set a Santa trap." She laughed and went back to retrieving the newspaper, stepping over the trap.
When I got home from school, Mom was already home, and I could hear the drill running. I turned the corner to reveal Mom, drilling what looked like a tall baby gate across the opening of her bedroom door. Mom's compromise involved installing a gate in front of her bedroom door, hoping the slight blockage would keep her from leaving her bedroom at night. She made me promise to sleep in my own room that night, and allow her to take care of the situation. I promised, but set an alarm for 1:08 am just in case.
When the alarm went off, I quickly sat up, straining my ears for any sounds that might indicate she was awake. As expected, I heard her padding around her bedroom, as she had done in the beginning. A few minutes later, I sighed a sigh of relief as I realized she still hadn't emerged from her room. Looks like the gate did the trick. Just as I started to drift off to sleep again, I was awoken by a loud banging sound. I ran out of my room to find my mom kicking the gate with all her might, trying to free it from the wall.
"Mom! Stop!" I yelled, pushing her away from the doorframe
"I can't! I need to help her! I have to get out!" She screamed, resuming her kicking, releasing part of it from the wall. "Release me! The Queen needs me!" She screamed, kicking the gate one last time, sending the rest of it flying across the hall, slamming into my shins.
As I was doubled over, rubbing my soon to be bruised legs, Mom made a run for it. She's faster than she looks, and by the time I caught up with her, she was halfway down the hallway, making her way towards the elevator. She was barefoot and wearing her pajamas, her eyes looked glossy and distant as they always did when she was sleepwalking. With some strong persuasion and my quick dodging skills as she took a swing at me, I managed to get her back into the apartment and back into bed.
The "Mom Trap" went back up that night, and I slept on the couch until morning.
I didn't need to tell her what happened. The beaten and dismantled gate told all. What she didn't know was, last night was the first night she became violent when going back to bed. I debated whether or not to tell her, but in the end, I told her the truth. The bruises on my shins from the flying gate further evidence that my story was true.
"It's ok, Mom. We can go back to the way things were. I don't mind sleeping on the couch. And once you go back to bed you don't get up again. Ten minutes tops then I'm off to sleep again." I insisted, knowing she felt horrible about what happened the night before.
"No. I can't let you do that. What happens if I try to hit you again? You might not dodge it next time. We have to do something more drastic." She said, rushing towards the closet, pulling out her toolbox.
My mom's newest solution: locking herself in her bedroom at night. She insisted she would be fine overnight being locked inside. She had her own bathroom, so she had everything she needed. As long as I was home in case of an emergency, everything would work out. And I wouldn't have to worry about her leaving in the middle of the night. So she went to work reversing the doorknob in her bedroom door so that it could be locked from the outside. I hated this idea, but there was nothing I could do. I was only twelve years old and she was my mother.
That night was the first time I locked my mother in her room. It felt weird. Wrong. I shouldn't be doing that. She shouldn't be locked in her room at night like a dog. I counted at least ten times that I got out of bed to unlock her bedroom door, but each time I stopped myself. This is what she wanted. This was her solution to keep us both safe. I had to respect that. I went to sleep that night with a sense of relief that I knew she was going to be safe all night.
At 1:08am I was awoken by the sound of my mother screaming from the room next door. I ran out of bed and stood in front of her bedroom door, listening to the sound of her screaming and crying, begging to be let out of her room. Begging me to let her out. The Queen needed her. She needed to go home. I sat on the floor in the hallway and cried as she started banging on the door and pulling on the doorknob, begging me to let her out. So many more times I wanted to open the door and let her out, but I knew I couldn't. All I could do was cry with her from the other side of the door.
Twenty minutes later, the screaming stopped and I heard a thud. I rushed in to find her laying on the ground, sound asleep. She looked ok, no injuries that I could see, so I left her where she laid, not wanting her to know I gave in and opened the door when she explicitly demanded that I was not to open this door, under any circumstances. I locked the door and went back to bed. "At least she's safe." I told myself, as I tried to force myself back to sleep. The next morning we talked, and decided this was still the best option. It was scary, but still seemed like the best option.
This continued for another couple months. Each night I was woken up at 1:08am by my mother screaming and crying, begging me to let her out. And each night, I pulled my pillow over my face, trying to block out the sound for the next twenty minutes. And every morning when I unlocked the door, I found her asleep in a heap on the floor. Things weren't getting better, and I was still scared that something was terribly wrong with my mother.
One night in particular, almost a year after the sleepwalking began, things went from bad to worse. The night started like any other. I locked my mother in her room and headed to bed, only to be awoken by the 1:08am screaming and begging. My mom started banging on the door so violently I swore I heard it cracking under the force of her fists. She was screaming louder than ever and her voice sounded even more desperate, like she was dying. I cried myself back to sleep when I heard the telltale thud, indicating it was all over. The next morning when I opened her bedroom door I saw something that sent chills down my spine. Her hands were covered in blood, the skin completely ripped off her knuckles. The door was covered in blood, thin red lines dripping towards the floor.
"Mom. Wake up." I whispered, shaking her gently awake.
"Hey Kid. What's up?" She asked, glancing over my shoulder at the bloody and broken door behind me. "Did I do that?" She asked, her eyes wide with shock.
"Yeah." I said, pointing to her bloody knuckles.
"Ok. So now we need another plan." She said, as she walked into the bathroom to rinse off her knuckles, taking inventory of her injuries.
"What else can we do?" I asked, dreading what her twisted mind could come up with this time.
"I think…I think you need to restrain me…" she said, her voice trailing off at the end.
"WHAT?! No! Out of the question!" I said, standing in defiance. "It's bad enough I have to lock you in your room at night, I will not tie you down too. I won't do it!"
"That's ok. I'll do it. I just need your help getting out of it in the morning."
"Mom! No! This is ridiculous. Do you hear yourself?"
"Henry, think about it. What if I had gotten out? Henry, what if that was you I was punching? I can't and I won't risk that." She said firmly. "This is what we are doing. I won't risk hurting you again."
That night, my mother handcuffed herself to her bed, before insisting I continue to lock the door from the outside.
I hated that night. I hated everything about what we had to do. I hated that she felt she needed to handcuff herself to the bed to ensure she didn't escape while she was sleepwalking. I hated everything about this. I wished we could go back to Boston. Back to a time before this started to happen. I started to wonder if maybe it was the stress of living in New York City that is causing her so much pain. Maybe we should think about moving again, someplace quiet.
This time her screams were worse than ever. She screamed for me to let her go. She screamed for me to help her. She screamed because the Queen needed her. Then she screamed in pain. And I knew. I just knew she was hurting herself, trying to get out. It was the worst night of my life. And the next morning was the worst of my life as well.
When I woke up and unlocked the door, I was immediately greeted with the smell of fresh blood. In the middle of her screaming last night, she had struggled against her restraints so badly she was bleeding from her wrists and hands. On top of it all, she had begun to claw at the top of each hand, trying anything she could think of to free herself. The sight of my mother covered in blood again was the worst scene I had ever seen.
She was already crying when I walked into the room.
"What do we do now, Mom?" I asked, as I quickly and gently freed her.
"Henry…you know what we need to do now…" she cried.
"No, Mom! Think of something else!"
"Henry…please…you know this is what we have to do. We can't keep doing this. It's getting worse. It's only a matter of time before I hurt you, again!"
"NO MOM! I AM NOT GOING TO COMMIT YOU!" I screamed, storming out of the room, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I buried my face in my pillow, screaming obscenities that no twelve year old should know.
A little while later there was a knock on the door. "Hey Kid, we need to talk." Mom said, as she slowly walked into my room, sitting next to me on the bed. "I know this is scary, but it's what needs to be done." She said, gently rubbing the back of my leg.
"No, it's not. Everything was fine for a long time, before you started having me lock you in the bedroom." I said sitting up quickly to face her.
"No, it wasn't, Henry. You and I both know it. I've tried everything I can think of. I've even tried to stay awake past 1:08, but no matter what I do I always fall asleep. This is the only way I can think to protect us both." She said, her gaze falling on the bandages on her hands and wrists. "We need to figure out why I'm doing this."
"What will happen to me while you're away?" I asked, trying my hardest to keep from crying.
"You'll probably have to go into foster care until I get better." She whispered, remembering her own time in the foster system. "But it won't be like when I was there. You're only going to be there temporarily. I will come back for you. As soon as I'm better I will come back for you, I promise."
"How long will that be?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I can't answer that, not until we know what's causing my sleepwalking." She answered.
"Ok…when? When are you leaving?"
"Soon. We can't do this much longer. It has to be soon." She said. I could see the tears welling in her eyes already.
"Give me a week, Mom! Please! Just give me one more week with you before you go away and I won't know when I'll see you again. Please Mom!" I begged.
"Ok. One week. I'll go next Monday."
"Not earlier. Promise me you won't disappear earlier because you think it's for my own good. Promise me you won't just leave me." I cried.
"I promise, Henry. I won't leave you," she cried, as I threw myself into her arms. It was settled. One week from then, my mom was going to voluntarily check herself into a psychiatric facility, and I would enter the world of the foster system. "Now, if you don't mind, it is Sunday morning. Will you please come and have breakfast with me?" She smiled. We both knew our time together was limited, and we both wanted to make the most of what little time we had left.
