Guest Comment

BossLady (x3): Hey, hon! Thank you so much! You had (amidst the reviews) my 200th review! *confetti thrown* I, too, am rather shocked at how far this fic has come. I remember how luke-warm I was about that first prompt, but I am SO THANKFUL for my anon. I'm glad you're enjoying the angsty moments as well as the fluffy ones. And also glad you (and others!) caught on to the significance of Hewitt ;)

Title: Healing Together
Summary: Post Entitlement Part 2. Emma returns from the search to find the aftermath.
Note: Prompt from BossLady "I would really like another chapter on this [entitlement], maybe the aftermath of it with Emma finding out and possibly healing Graham" and cuppatea13 "I hope we get the following scenes of Emma coming back to them and healing Graham and helping him and Henry deal." Anti-Regina sentiment, obvs.

At dusk, she and David had finally given up the search. There was no sign of Gold or Neal, and part of her wondered if maybe they were hiding together.

Either way, they weren't going to be found today.

She ached to be upstairs. She was tired and hungry, but also feeling more at peace than she had in the last couple days. The talk with David had been liberating, in a way. It would all resonate once she was with her family, though, and had the time to process the feelings in that protective bubble.

When Emma walked into Granny's, there was a stillness to the air. It was mostly empty of people, but those that remained seemed tense and on edge. Her brow furrowed as she made her way to the counter, wanting something quick to eat before going upstairs. "Ruby," she called. She slumped into a stool, feeling only then how her energy had sapped somewhere in the search.

The brunette gave a stiff smile and walked up to her. "Emma. Do you need something? I could get it sent up to the room," she said. She seemed hesitant, eyes bouncing around warily.

"Are you okay?"

Emma stiffened, and didn't bother to look at the woman she felt at her side. Instead, she clenched a napkin in her fist, trying hard to remain stoic. "I'm fine. Ruby, can I just get a grilled cheese to go?"

Ruby nodded and walked off, and Emma felt a curl of annoyance shoot through her that she hadn't thought that one through. The redhead shifted, sitting beside her at the counter. She folded her hands, her look mostly sympathetic. Still, Emma was on edge. "You're looking rather pale, dear. I should get you some water. It's not good for the child for you to be this run down."

Emma turned her head only a fraction. "We're fine," she said, clipped and short. She covered her stomach with her palm, as if in a feeble attempt to hide the bump from the woman.

While she hadn't announced her pregnancy to anyone other than her parents, the town had caught on quite quickly. She didn't think she had been showing that much, but she hadn't been trying to hide it from anyone in New York, either. Apparently, it was more obvious than she and Graham had first assumed.

It would have been fine. She wasn't ashamed of her pregnancy; she wanted and loved her child. However, it had made the midwife all the more attentive.

"You don't understand how … important you both are. To the kingdom, I mean," she said, a swift smile crossing her lips. She pushed a glass of water to her, one Emma hadn't seen previously. "I wouldn't be a particularly good midwife if I didn't at least offer my help, now would I?"

Emma looked at the glass with some disdain. "It's fine." The redhead's hand shot out, resting over her stomach. The baby twisted, almost pulling away from her touch just as Emma did the same. "Don't touch me," she growled.

She smiled, and didn't look especially apologetic. "You're carrying high. I'm guessing a girl, then?"

"My doctor," she emphasized, "said it means I'm in shape." She didn't offer any other comments: that she didn't know, that it was a boy day, none of it. She itched to be upstairs even more, and wondered how fast that grilled cheese would be done.

"Well, of course you are. It's good that you are having a healthy pregnancy. But all this stress … you need to slow down, my pretty. This investigation's getting to you."

Her choice of endearment made her brows knit; she had heard that term before, hadn't she? It rang familiar, and it made her inch further away. She didn't want to even begin her protests: that the investigation was fine, that she needed her parents protected, that she wanted to find the Big Bad and be done with it already. She didn't want to encourage her to speak any more.

Ruby walked back to her just before she imploded, paper bag in hand. The brunette looked uneasy still, and more towards something ambiguous than the woman beside her. "Need anything else?" she asked.

Emma started to shake her head, but then paused to look her over. "What's going on?"

Ruby looked startled and stepped back a pace. "Have you talked to them yet?"

She didn't have to ask who she meant, and she glanced to the ceiling. "No, I had just gotten back from the search. What is it? Why does everyone seem so …?"

"Terrified?" Ruby finished, a little bitterly. She sighed. "There was an incident early, and now everyone's afraid of what … what the queen will do."

Emma's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching as her muscles stiffened. "What?" she asked lowly.

Ruby leaned her elbows on the counter and shoved her hands through her dark hair. "She was here, and Henry rejected her. Publicly. The diner cleared out pretty quickly when she showed up, but there was a fight. When she went after –" She cut herself off, holding her hands up as she seemed to notice Emma begin to hyperventilate. "They're okay, though! I just had some sandwiches sent up to them just an hour ago."

Emma swallowed thickly, a dizzying tremor starting at the base of her spine as she thought of her family exposed to the woman.

"Oh, my, Regina really is making things difficult for you all."

Emma shivered. There was something pleasant in the redhead's tone, even pleased. She shook her head vigorously, and snatched the bag out of Ruby's hands. "I'm going upstairs," she said gruffly, and didn't bother to say goodbye to either.

"Watch out for that child, Emma."

Emma froze at the doorway to the inn, but when she turned back, the redhead was gone. She shivered again, the unease piquing in her nerves.

Her instincts said to be wary, and she had gotten used to trusting them. But then there was David and Mary Margaret. They trusted her with their child. As much as she wanted to insist she was in the right, another part more quietly echoed that maybe it was just her reaction to a woman her parents trusted. She was too helpful, and lacked awareness, but that didn't necessarily mean she was bad. Despite rationalization, her heart rate increased, adrenaline spiking her blood whenever she was around.

She twisted on her heel, trying not to think about it for now, then determinedly took the stairs two at a time.

Regina was one subject she knew absolutely she was not overreacting to.

When she entered their room, Graham and Henry were sharing the big bed. Their heads were together as they spoke in low tones, the room holding a somber energy. Graham raised his head to give a half smile to her in greeting, his eyes shaded and holding his true temperament. Although it was warm out and he wore a T-shirt, a scarf was wrapped around his neck. She frowned at him briefly, then turned to her son.

Henry sat up. His cheeks were pale, dark circles smeared under his eyes, hair messy. He shrugged to her inventorying look, and she rushed forward. With cupped hands, she gently took his face. She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks, looking him over for external and internal harm. She was just able to keep herself from shaking in worry. "What did she do?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said simply, but then his eyes trailed over to Graham.

Her mouth set in a firm line. "Henry," she said pointedly, willing her voice to be even. "Nothing?"

His gaze lowered. "Okay, something," he mumbled. He blew out a low breath. "She tried to see me. I told her I didn't want her around."

Her eyes fluttered closed and she tugged him to her. She sighed heavily, feeling every ounce of frustration and anger eating away at her. "Are you okay? Did she touch you?"

He shook his head. "She tried to hug me, but I ran away. Hook helped me lock myself in the bathroom until Dad got there."

She nodded and kissed his head, trying to make her movements soothing instead of frantic. "I'm so sorry, Henry. We've been lucky so far." She paused, thinking over his words. "Wait, why wasn't Graham with you?"

Graham and Henry shared a look that looked more like an exchange of winces. Graham gritted his teeth and then slowly reached out to brush against her arm. "She told her sob story and got … someone … on her side. But it's okay; that person knows now how Henry feels, and so does the rest of the town. No one's going to help her see him anymore."

She stared at him, her eyes hardening. Her jaw clenched; she knew there was only one person that would be on Regina's side. She turned back to Henry, and her focus was back to protectiveness. "I'm so sorry, Henry. Did she say anything? Do anything?"

Henry peeked over at Graham again. "We need you to heal Dad."

Emma whiplashed back to her husband, her mouth dropping open. "She touched you?" she asked in shock. She held Henry closer and reached out to Graham. Disgust and fear and fury was mixing in her gut, but she wanted to make sure they were okay before moving forward with any emotion.

Graham gave Henry a look and he sighed heavily. He took her hand and only kissed her palm, reassuring her without words. "We weren't supposed to spring it on you like that," he said, his tone slightly reproachful.

Henry shrugged. "I want you to be okay," he replied in a small voice.

"Graham," she said, and she could feel the tears collecting in her throat. "Where …?"

He pulled the scarf, and she sucked in a sharp inhale at the tracks that colored his neck. "Looks worse than it is," he insisted.

She shook her head. Despite his words and the fact that otherwise he seemed physically unaffected by the injuries, there was leftover fear in his dark blue eyes. "She used," she swallowed back her nausea, "she used her magic?"

"She almost took his heart."

Henry's words seized her, and she fought not to crackle with her own energy. Graham's eyes narrowed in response; he had seen enough to know when she was holding back. But she couldn't let it out, not when he had been hurt by magic again. She buried her face in Henry's hair to hide her tears as she shook, and felt her son's own collect on her shirt.

After a moment, Graham began extracting her from her kid and held her wrists in his hands so her palms were up. "Em, stop. I'm okay. It's still there. I don't want you sick again," he said.

She kept her wet eyes on his as he released her slowly, and she blew out a low breath as she reluctantly let the energy spark the lights dim and then off.

Henry was staring up at the lamp in the corner, his expression solemn. "You can use it to heal him, mom," Henry added quietly.

She shook her head furiously, backing away. "No. I won't use it on you."

"Henry asked earlier," Graham said, his voice keeping a soft cadence. "I think it's a good idea."

"Graham," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't."

She was terrified of it, of touching her magic to him. She had always been so consciously and subconsciously careful about that. Earlier that day she had seen how her magic on outside forces still caused his body to tense, how the past still clung to him despite the months of opposite. She couldn't fathom trying to use her unstable power directly on him.

He took her hand again and placed it on his neck, his other coming to rest over her stomach. He kept direct eye contact, never breaking. He looked determined, but then he softened to something gentler. Loving.

"I trust you," he said seriously. "I know you can do it."

Her eyes burned and she looked back at Henry. He rested his head on her shoulder, wide eyes set on her. "Please, mom?"

She felt Henry's plea, and wondered if he thought it would right the situation: good magic clearing the bad. He had always been so optimistic, and part of her understood that seeing white magic would be restorative to his worldview.

"I don't know how," she admitted finally. She had only ever harnessed it for little things: turning off lights, turning on radios, bending trajectories. She didn't know the first thing about healing bruises and whatever other injuries Regina's anger had caused.

Graham took her by the shoulders and she followed his movements so she was laying down on her side. Henry sat next to them, watching raptly, as she settled against the pillow. She let herself relax as he laid on the opposite pillow. His eyes shut as he caught her hands again and rested them against his throat. She tensed automatically. "Take a deep breath," he said soothingly.

She did so, trying not to focus on the indentations she could feel against her fingertips. She still wanted to rage at Regina, but she pushed the feeling down as she tried to center.

"I believe in you," Henry spoke softly. He had scooted to the end of the bed, giving them space, but he still never took his eyes from them.

She tried to focus on their support, and took one hand off him and placed it on her stomach, as if drawing strength from the other being there as well. Graham did the same, and the baby shifted slightly as if acknowledging his parents. A warm hand encompassed her ankle, Henry's clammy fingers closing the circle.

Everything else, every problem and danger, flew to the wayside as she enveloped herself in feelings of family.

She blew out a breath and tried to picture Graham's skin made whole and clear again. She paused as the power grew in her belly, and she raised her eyes to his again. "Are you sure?"

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers delicately. "I think it'll help," he murmured back.

She nodded, and tried to think of it as their magic, all four of theirs. It helped the light begin at her elbows, creeping upwards at a pace that matched her hesitation. His eyes didn't follow it, but instead were locked on hers. She saw the unease there, but also the trust despite it. With a final exhale, she let it out.

She broke eye contact to watch as the white light traveled across the dark blue-black veining, cross-hatching back and forth. With it, she felt just how deep those injuries went, how much she needed to heal. It only took seconds, only enough to encompass her rhythmic inhale, and then it was done.

He leaned in to kiss her again, and even though it was soft she felt his urge to deepen it. "See?" he said, and his lips quirked up.

"You did it," Henry breathed. She turned just in time to catch his beaming smile. "You made it right."

She tried to smile back, tried to match their happiness, but let out a short sob instead. She shook her head, and Graham pulled her closer. She collapsed against his chest, shaking as she listened to his heart. She tried to dampen the rage and fright and nausea that was increasing exponentially.

"One second, Henry," Graham murmured.

He tucked his arm under her legs and picked her up. She continued to cry, hard ugly tears that she couldn't stop. She was unable to do anything else but tuck her head against him. He brought her on the edge of the tub in the adjoining bathroom, and shut the door behind them.

She buried her face in her hands, trying to stop the jab of emotion.

"Emma."

She shook her head, swallowing hard. "I want to kill her," she hissed out, quiet enough to not reach Henry's ears. Her nails bit into her palms. She raised her red eyes to his, trying to get across her seriousness. "I want her gone."

"I know," he said simply, and sat across from her.

"She hurt you. She hurt Henry. She … she never stops." She almost felt faint with the want, the fierce protection over her family pushing out every other moral center she thought she had. She suddenly realized just how he must've felt before, in that other land.

He clenched his jaw, but then nodded. "In this world, we're law enforcement, Em," he reminded with a tap to her knee. "We'll figure something out."

"Now," she insisted. Her hand darted forward and she clung to his shirt, tears streaming down her face doing nothing to hinder her vehemence. "Now."

"Restraining orders. Formal ordinances. She breaks them … then we'll do something."

She shook her head. "Graham, she has enough war crimes and murders to warrant something right now, immediately. I don't want her just walking around, living free, where Henry is."

Graham dragged his hands through his hair, sighing. His eyes were bloodshot, she noticed, and there was a fatigue to his posture that she hadn't noted previously. "We'd need your parents on our side for this. And you know that her past wrongs aren't enough to make them do something. Let's set definite rules, okay? Ones they know she can't violate."

She frowned. "Why are you so calm about this?" she asked. "You were almost … she almost …."

Graham was silent a long moment, looking down at his hands. "With as many years as I've waited, I want it to be foolproof. Her attacking me is something I can ignore. Henry, though …."

She turned her head away. "I can't ignore it. You know I can't. For either of you."

He took that in a moment. "If it makes you feel better, I reacted first."

Her head shot up. "What?"

He shrugged. "Pinned her to the wall by the throat. Got her to see I was serious, at least."

A perverse sort of pleasure tingled through her, and she tried not to dwell on how that made her feel. "Good."

"I wanted her anger directed at me. After Henry called … I wanted it all at me. I provoked her until I got exactly that." He entangled his hand with hers, digits flitting across her knuckles.

She wanted to tell him exactly how not okay she was with that course of action, but she knew by his touch that he was already admitting to knowing. She also knew that he wouldn't stop, not if it meant protecting Henry or herself. "There are better ways," she finally said.

His mouth parted, and then his lashes flicked across his cheeks. He grimaced. "Not that I could think of at the time."

She sighed and cupped his jaw to bring him in for a demanding kiss. He tasted clean, no trace of metallics or ash. It was somehow both reassuring and disconcerting; it was like she had wiped his slate with her magic. When they parted, she shuddered. "I used my power on you," she said in a small voice.

"You healed me." The awe tingeing his words did nothing to hinder the feelings of unease.

She sniffed back her remaining tears. "She did so much more damage than I thought."

"More than that," he agreed. "But you helped more than you know, Em."

She felt a whimper curdle in her throat, souring into a graver sound. He pulled her in again, and she collapsed against him. "I hate it here," she spat. "I don't want to wait around for her to hurt someone else before putting her away."

He tangled his hand in her hair. "We don't have to wait for her to hurt someone. We just have to wait for her to get within 1000 feet of Henry."

"Or you," she said, brushing her hand over his stubbled jaw. "I don't want her near you at all."

She expected protest, but he nodded easily. "Okay. How about for all of us?"

"Better," she agreed. She scrubbed her face with her fingers then rose. She unclicked the door, and Henry was sitting silent on the bed. She pulled him close, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her. "Sorry, kid."

He nodded. "I get it. It's overwhelming," he replied. He gave a half smile. "But you did it. I knew you could."

In some ways, it made her tense that he considered her the Savior still, but in other ways it helped. In this life, she knew she was Mom first to him, and that made it easier. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Thanks for believing in me. We're trying to make this place safer for you. I promise."

"But not forever, right?" Henry asked worriedly. "We don't have to stay forever."

She shook her head. "Not forever. But we'll figure something out."

"Can I text Michael?"

She nodded. "Just don't tell him about Storybrooke. But you can text all your friends, talk with them." It would probably make him feel a little better, anyway. Balancing this town with their real life would help.

She felt Graham come up behind her, and he sunk into her. His arms circled her waist, and he brushed his hands up her arms. "You're tired," he noted. "Eat your food, then get some rest. I'll call David, okay?"

She sighed. She turned and reached out to touch his chest. She gripped his shoulder in her opposite hand, preventing him for moving away. He let her take her time, and she focused on counting the even beats beneath her palm for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. "At least we have a plan."

He took her wrist and kissed along her knuckles, keeping careful eye contact. "It's a better plan," he agreed.

Not the best, but definitely better. They were implementing measures to protect their family, and that was all she could ask for at that point. Now they needed a way to break the curse and flush out the baddie.

But that could be done after regrouping and healing with her little family.