Chapter 29

Coffee in hand, Emma drove down the busy morning street on the way to...where else? Stalk a perp, of course.

Last night she'd had another dream. This time, she was sitting in what looked like to be a cabin in a creaky ship. Killian sat across from her, and they'd toasted to Neal of all people. In her dream he was dead. Which she was all for, but in her dream she'd felt sad.

Before long the ship rocked violently and they went above deck. She couldn't really remember much, just something about a mermaid and then the next thing she knew she was diving off the ship into the dark, icy, swirling waters.

Emma sighed as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Stuck in traffic. Great. That was one of the things she missed about Storybrooke: the lack of traffic.

She reached over to turn on the radio when suddenly she was hit by another vision.

"What does this do?" Killian reached over to the dashboard, only to have his hand slapped away.

Don't touch that." Emma said automatically as she drove down the road. They were on their way to pick up food from Granny's and he was being his usual annoying self.

"Why?" He asked, hand shifting toward the gear shift. "What's this?"

"Hey. Don't teach that either."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so." She said tightly, realizing that she just sounded exactly like an uptight cliche.

He ignored her. "How bout this?"

"Dont touch that." She repeated.

Suddenly, bass boomed, filling the car with loud music. Emma yelped in surprise, the car swerving violently. "Killian! Are you trying to get us killed?!"

"Sorry." He muttered.

"You should be." She responded automatically. But upon seeing his wounded puppy expression she softened. That face always had that effect on her. "I'll teach you everything I know about cars. But only if you keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the ride. Deal?"

"Just for the rest of the ride, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as a yes."

There was a loud honk. Followed by another and another. Emma nearly dropped her coffee in surprise as she looked up to see that the road in front of her was clear. One glance at the long line of cars and pissed of people behind her told her that she'd blacked out yet again.

How much time had passed? Clearly not too much but there was no telling when she'd black out next.

God. This was turning into a freaking hazard. Maybe it was time to get some help. As unsatisfying as that idea sounded she really didn't want to have another vision during a more dangerous activity.

"So tell me about these dreams you've been having." The psychologist said as she clicked her pen.

"Well." Emma started as she shifted around in her seat. "They are super weird."

"How so? Who's in them?"

"Me, my son, sometimes a couple of my friends, my, um, the guy I've been seeing, and his daughter."

"I see. And what are you doing in these dreams?"

"Um, in one of them these people kidnapped by son and jumped into this swirling vortex thing, in another I was sword fighting with...the guy I'm sort of seeing, and then something about him being hit by a car, and…" Emma paused, not wanting to reveal the last one.

"And?"

"And, um...us getting married." She admitted.

"Hmm." The psychologist said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I've been having these visions. They kind of feel like flashbacks. I was reading to Ava when I had this weird feeling that I had read to her before."

"Like deja vu?"

"Not exactly. I was suddenly in like a different place and time but doing the same thing. And that happened when I was driving yesterday too."

The psychologist nodded. "Has this happened before?"

"No. It just started recently."

"Ok. Have there been any major life changes recently? New job, a move…?"

"Um. Well. I started going out with someone and he and his daughter moved in."

"Ah. There you go. Often these types of events cause stress which manifests in diff..."

"Stress?" Emma interjected. "It's not exactly stressful."

"Stress can be both negative and positive, caused by all sorts of events. Even positive things, such as a new boyfriend in your case, cause stress. And stress can manifest in all sorts of different ways. Including dreams or the visions."

"But why do they feature weird things. Like sword fighting? And getting married?"

"Well, the fighting could indicate anxiety. Do you ever have conflicts with your boyfriend?"

Emma nodded. "Of course."

"There you go. It's just your mind's way of working out those conflicts and the anxiety caused by them."

"What about getting married then?"

"Dreams hold symbolic meanings relating to events in our lives. I'm guessing you have strong feelings for this guy?"

"Maybe."

"Ok. Well what we dream about can often represent things that we want." The psychologist looked meaningfully at Emma.

"Except that it's not like I want to marry him."

"You might, deep down, and not even know it."

Emma ignored her. "Can you explain why these dreams and visions feel so real then? Like they're flashbacks."

"That's one of the main characteristics of a dream, is that it feels real."

God. This lady wasn't answering any of her questions. "Is there any way to stop these visions? They could be triggered by anything and I don't really want to get into a car accident or anything. Any antidepressants or anything?"

"You don't seem depressed. I'd advise you to just relax and find other ways to channel your stress, such as exercise."

Well no shit. Google could tell me all of this. Emma must've looked visibly troubled, for the psychologist spoke up again. "If it'll ease your mind, I can hypnotize you so you'll have another dream and we can discuss it."

Emma nodded. "Alright."

"Lie back." The psychologist reached up and closed the blinds, darkening the small room. "And just listen to the sound of my voice…"

She was lying on her bed, half asleep, trying to take deep breaths despite the pain in her chest when she could hear the sound of the door being opened. Figuring that it was just a nurse coming in to check on her, Emma kept her eyes closed.

Footsteps approached, and she could feel someone looming over. They were probably just making sure she hadn't pulled out her oxygen tube or something. But then there was a strange pressure on her lips. It took her a second to realize that someone was kissing her.

"What?" She blinked blearily at the figure above her; whoever he was he was shrouded by the darkness of the room and her drugged, half asleep state. "What're you doing?"

Much to her horror the person lunged at her and mashed their lips against hers again. Panic seared through her; she was pinned underneath them. What in the hell were they doing, kissing her?!

Emma fought against her assailant, trying to free herself, ignoring the mounting pain in her chest as she did so. Somehow, she wrenched herself away. "What the hell was that?" She screeched. As she tried to sit up, she had to bite back a scream. Her hand touched her chest and it came back bloody.

"What is it?" He tried to approach her, tried to pull back the collar of her shirt.

"You dirty pervert! Let me go! Get off!"

And then Mary Margaret, David, and several security guards rushed in. They gathered her assailant in their arms. As he pulled away, Emma caught a glimpse of his face.

Killian.

Emma bolted forward with a gasp, panting wildly. It had been Killian all along. She hadn't realized it at the time, being drugged and half asleep in a dark room, but after reliving it now she knew it. Knew the truth.

Her wonderful new boyfriend was the psycho who'd attacked her in the hospital in Storybrooke. Yet again, he'd turned out to be someone who wasn't who he said he was. Why was she not surprised?

"Calm down." The psychologist said as she placed her hand over Emma's. "You're safe. What did you see, Emma?"

Emma looked around, trying to catch her senses. She was in some sort of office, lying on a couch. Right.

"What did you see?"

"I gotta go." Emma stood up. "Sorry. Thanks for...everything." She strode curtly out the door, already seeing red.

She had a bastard to interrogate. And possibly strangle to death.

Author's note: Uh oh...