Chapter 5

Pounding. Her head was pounding. Why wouldn't the pounding stop?

A strange man was in front of her, his hand pressed to his right shoulder . When his hand came away smeared with blood, he cursed loudly. "You bitch!" He crowed, stumbling backwards. His ankle twisted on the rug and he fell out of view with a loud thump.

Bitch. Had she done that? For the first time, she noticed that there was a gun dangling loosely from her hand. It hit the ground with a loud clang as suddenly, her arms gave out.

And then she stumbled backwards. Fire. Fire was building in her chest. She was in pain. Awful, mind numbing pain. Suddenly unable to hold herself up, she swayed and fell backwards into a sturdy pair of arms.

"No, no, no." An accented male voice said desperately as she was lowered to the ground. Her head was cradled in the voice's owner's lap, arms splayed out across the carpet. There was a strange pressure on her chest. A moment later she realized it was someone's hand. The hand's owner cursed when it came back a dark red.

She was getting sleepy. And the fire in her chest was intensifying. Blood. There was blood staining the front of her gray pajama top. Was that her blood?

"Emma, love." The same accented voice shouted frantically. A hand slapped at her cheeks. "You have to keep them open!"

She hadn't even realized her eyes were closed. With difficulty, she pried them open, immediately regretting it. The room was beginning to spin.

It was getting harder to breathe.

"Swan!" The man cried. His face, a mask of and concern and desperation, appeared above hers. Dimly she noted that he was incredibly good looking. "Stay with me." He pleaded.

Who was he?

"Stay with me, love. You're gonna be ok, I promise."

The room was growing faint, the man's voice sounding as though it was very far away.

She wanted to cry out and demand answers but couldn't speak, continuing to stare blankly up at him. The only sound that she was capable of making was a faint whimper.

So this was what dying felt like.

She barely noticed the look of anguish on the man's face as all went black.

A strange, dark haired man was staring down at her. "You're joking, right?" He chuckled nervously.

Emma blinked up at him. "No." She choked. Her voice was hoarse. What the hell was going on? For the first time, she took in her strange surroundings, noticed the constant, irritating beeping at her side. She was sore. No, even worse. Her chest killed; even the slightest movement brought tears to her eyes. She had absolutely no recollection of what had happened. There was a tube sticking out of her nose and something pinching at her, and she looked down to see an IV poking out from the crook of her arm.

Hospital. She was in the hospital, something she unfortunately had too much experience with. But why?

The man was watching her with tears in his eyes. He was looking at her with such an intense expression of longing that it was starting to creep her out. Who was he?

"Emma." The man said urgently, reaching down to cup her face. She shuddered automatically and he recoiled as if burned. "Do you really not remember me, love?"

"No!" Emma coughed. "Who are you?" And why he was he calling her "love"?

The man opened his mouth, but then someone pushed him aside. "Emma! You're awake!"

Emma breathed a shaky sigh of relief when her roommate came into view, a watery smile etched on her face. Finally, someone she recognized. She couldn't help but feel herself calm down at the sight of her friend. Maybe she'd start getting some answers now. "Who's…" She started asking, but her roommate cut her off.

"Oh, Emma! I'm so glad you're awake." Mary Margaret reached down and hugged her, her body shaking with sobs. Emma noticed that her friend's clothes were wrinkled and there was even a small stain on the collar of her shirt, something the normally impeccable Mary Margaret would not tolerate. She blinked, touched. Clearly, Mary Margaret had been worried about her, staying in the hospital day and night.

"Oh. Um." Emma said, unused to her show of affection. They were good friends, but not that great. "It's ok. I'm ok." Still, it was nice to have someone care for her, so she let her overly emotional roommate hug her tightly. She patted her on the back awkwardly.

In the background, she could hear the strange dark haired man saying something about memory loss. What was all that about? He placed a hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder, obviously attempting to get her attention, but the brunette shook him off as she carefully helped Emma sit up, gently sliding a hand on her back.

"We were so worried!" Mary Margaret sobbed as she sat on the foot of her bed, a hand reaching out to brush through Emma's tangled hair.

By we, Emma figured she'd meant herself and Henry. Certainly not Regina, who was probably counting on the fact that Emma would die. The rest of the town, maybe but probably not. Still, two people worrying about her was two more than she'd ever had.

But then, David Nolan came into view. He wore a similar expression as Mary Margaret and strangely enough his appearance was just as disheveled.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma rasped.

Mary Margaret pulled back from her, confusion etching across her face. "Who are you talking to?"

"Him." Emma raised a shaky hand. "David. The man who screwed you over time and time again."

Mary Margaret looked back, David's expression mirroring her own. "What? That's no one to talk to him. Why wouldn't he be here, Emma? He's your fa..."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." The strange dark haired man said loudly. "She's lost her memory."

Memory? Emma wondered. What the hell was he on?

She ignored him, turning to Mary Margaret. "Don't tell me you two are back together." Emma groaned. "I swear, there are so many better men out there. Not that I'm one to talk about relationships, but you have got to move on from him!" She blinked at the strange expression on her roommate's face. "What? I know it's harsh but it's the truth."

"Hook, what were you saying about memory loss?" David turned to the dark haired man. Hook. Was that the guy's name? Huh. Strange. Maybe Henry's fairy tale theory held some water after all.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Mary Margaret looked at Emma.

"I don't know." Emma answered. "I think I was packing…?" That answer didn't seem quite right, but as she said it her mind slowly filled with fuzzy images of her two suitcases filled with her all of her admittedly few worldly possessions.

"Wait." David pushed past Mary Margaret. "What?"

"Packing for what?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I was gonna leave Storybrooke." She said sheepishly. "Sorry. I was gonna leave a note. So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened? Why am I here and why do I feel like I've been run over by a truck?"

"So you don't know him?" Mary Margaret gestured at the man. Hook.

"No. I've been trying to tell you. I have no idea who he is. Or what David's doing here." She wrinkled her nose.

"And the last thing that happened was...packing." Mary Margaret said slowly.

"Yes." Emma responded. It was the last thing she remembered, so it had to be right.

Right?

"Didn't that happen over two years…" Hook started, but David elbowed him in the ribs, effectively shushing him.

"Get Whale." David muttered to Hook. "I think you may be right."

Author's note: So yeah, the last thing Emma remembers is packing to leave Storybrooke, which happened before Henry ate the turnover in season 1. What do you think is gonna happen next?