Chapter 3: Emma's Nightmare

Emma awoke in a haze. It was pitch black all around her, the lights dim. She knew this place. It was familiar.

She could still see his face as clearly as if the lights were on. Though the rest of the room was blured and faded, he was not.

"We're almost home," Neal said with a smile.

A young and in love Emma smiled back. The word 'home' echoing over and over in her mind.

"Home," she said aloud after Neal was gone. He was gone but she would see him again. They would meet up and then start their lives together.

The scene shifted.

"Neal," her younger self called out. "Neal! Don't leave me like this, don't leave me this way. Come back. Neal!"

In a wave of gray fog the scene soon shifted a second time. Navy blue lights mixed with gray clouded her vision until Emma saw her younger self strapped to some stirrups on the bed. She was in pain. Immense pain. Emma heard her young self scream. Waiting. Waiting for it to be over.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Emma had been in this nightmare before but never had she been separated from it before. Never had she been disassociated, her present self and younger self as two individuals, she had always been a part of it, never seeing it from the outside the way her current self was seeing it now.

Emma could only watch as her young self finally stopped screaming and a small smile formed across her face.

"Let me hold him," Emma said reaching out her hands.

A pair of gloved hands, the rest of the body shrouded in darkness, brought forth the tiny bundle. It was still matted with blood but Emma didn't care. Looking down at the small boy in her arms Emma gently stroked his face as she smiled.

"You're so…charming," was the word that came to her lips.

Again the scene shifted. Now the young Emma was calling out. "No, I made a mistake. Bring him back to me!" There was no one in the darkness to answer her pleas. "Come back! Come back. Bring back my son!"

Darkness faded over the both of them but present Emma could still hear young Emma's heavy breathing and heavy sobs, slowly fading as an echo that became silent.

Breathing heavily herself, Emma opened her eyes. She moved her eyes to the window. Daylight was coming. She looked down to her left side. Henry was still there and knowing that Emma sighed in relief.

It was only a bad dream. One she hadn't had in a very long time. Emma glanced over the dream catcher for a moment before deciding it was probably best to get up. Henry would be awake himself in a while and she wanted to get ready for the day before he was.

Making her way downstairs, it didn't surprise Emma that her parents were all ready up. They usually were.

"Morning," Mary Margaret said to her.

Emma looked up at her. The expression in her eyes warned it wasn't a good morning at all.

"Late night with Henry," David asked.

Emma walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup of hot chocolate that Mary Margaret had all ready set out.

"Henry slept fine," Emma replied. "I wasn't the one who couldn't sleep."

Mary Margaret looked over at David for a moment and then back at Emma, "How come," she asked.

Emma just shook her head, taking a sip, and then bringing the cup back down. "Bad dream. It's nothing."

Mary Margaret looked at her daughter and Emma caught her eye. She knew what Mary Margaret was going to say: Nothing with you means something because if it were nothing we wouldn't be talking about it.

Before Mary Margaret could speak those words, Emma spoke up first. "It was just a dream, I've had it before. It's no big deal."

"Emma," said Mary Margaret, "If you've had that dream before it probably is a big deal."

"It's not," Emma snapped. She lowered her gaze. "It can't mean anything, not anymore."

David looked at Mary Margaret. Though all of them were still getting to know each other and trying to figure out their roles as parents, they could tell that something was eating Emma up inside, that it had been for a few days but they knew better than to push. If they did Emma would only shut down and that was the last thing I wanted.

Emma looked down at her cup. The chocolate wasn't helping. The dream had now taken the center of her thoughts.

Tossing the rest of her drink in the sink Emma walked to her room and got ready.

She emerged with a couple of files in her hand.

Henry was still asleep and as much as Emma wanted to wait for him, to be the kind of mother he deserved right now, she couldn't. How did people do this? How did parents put their own issues aside to be there for their kid? Emma didn't have the answers. The only thing that made any sense right now was pulling herself together before she could handle anything else.

"I have to get to work," Emma stated simply.

"On a Saturday," Mary Margaret asked sounding skeptical.

"Something I can help with," David asked standing up but also sounding skeptical as well.

"No that's okay. It's just an old case, I can handle it."

Mary Margaret and David could only watch as Emma left the apartment. They were deeply concerned for their daughter and hoped that she would open up when she was ready.

With Emma gone, they were more than happy to take care of Henry but that didn't stop Mary Margaret's nagging feeling that Emma's needing to get to work had something to do with whatever it was that was bothering her.

She would let it go for now.