TRIGGER WARNINGS: This chapter gets pretty violent for this fic. If you cannot handle physical assault, please skip this chapter! It's about to get pretty heavy between our leading ladies, so buckle up and hold on tight. Also, thanks to Jasmine for being my lovely Beta on this chapter. You can find her here: obligatory-regal-name. tumblr. com She makes all of my Swan Queen better!
Early Thursday morning had a sleepless Emma in a searing hot shower. She was certain that she would come out of it with second-degree burns, but the severe temperature that she now bathed in were the only moments when she felt as though she had finally returned to the 98.6 that her body was supposed to be at.
Emma was finishing up rinsing out her long curls, humming tunelessly to herself when an errant clump of suds slid down her forehead and right into her eye. The blonde cursed loudly, clutching at her face. In her attempt to jerk away from the stream of water, she felt her leg tremble, then give out. A strangled yell slipped from her lips before her head collided heavily with the edge of the tub. All of her senses went dark.
Mary Margaret was standing at the kitchen table, rifling through all of her papers and books to make sure that she had everything she needed before heading off to the school. She found, since Emma moving into her tiny abode, that it was both a blessing and a curse that one could hear almost everything that happened inside the little apartment. On that Thursday morning, it happened to be a blessing.
She heard a string of muffled curses coming from the upstairs bathroom. Soap in the eyes seemed to be a regular occurrence for her roommate, so the brunette thought nothing of it. However, the profanity was immediately followed by a deep, clattering thud and then deafening silence.
The teacher stood frozen, waiting for any further sounds, and when none were forthcoming, she sprang into action, leaping up the stairs two at a time. She rapped her knuckles sharply against the bathroom door. "Emma? Emma, are you okay?" Her only response was the gushing sound of the showerhead. She knocked louder, hoping for some sort of indicator that her roommate wasn't injured.
When her efforts bore no fruit, Mary Margaret barged into the bathroom, squinting through the heavy steam billowing around her. She zeroed in on the tub, and saw an unmoving arm slung over the edge, connected to an equally motionless, naked blonde.
She gasped, flinging herself to Emma's side, shutting off the water, breathing a momentary sigh of relief when she saw that the woman hadn't landed face-down in the two inches of blistering water. With one hand, she yanked down the nearest towel, draping it over Emma's bare body. She could see the steady rise and fall of her chest, eliciting another brief sigh of relief. She wasn't dead.
There was no blood, but Mary Margaret saw the angry, purplish contusion rapidly stretching itself out underneath the sheriff's skin on her forehead near her left temple. She wanted to move the injured woman, but she remembered what she had learned in her first aid training for school; any attempt to move the victim of a head or neck injury could result in further or even life-threatening damage.
She pulled a hand towel from the cupboard under the sink, soaking it with icy water. She'd get ice once Emma was awake. Moving sodden strands gently from the unconscious woman's forehead, the brunette lightly pressed the cool cloth to the ugly blemish on her face.
Mary Margaret continued her tender ministrations until a deep, drawn-out groan was expelled from Emma's throat. She jumped, dropping the cloth with a soft splat right across her roommate's face. She snatched it up, blushing furiously. The blonde groaned again.
"Emma? Can you hear me? Try not to move too quickly. You took a nasty fall, and I don't know if you're hurt."
"Mar..."
"Do I need to call the hospital?"
"Dun...know. Can't...catch...a break." Emma slowly shifted so that she was stretched out in the tub, with her head propped up on the end; the brunette quickly stuffed the hand towel under Emma's head while simultaneously keeping the big towel over her shaky body.
"Did you break anything?"
"Nah... Broken bones hurt...more." She kept her green eyes pressed shut, vainly hoping that the simple action would help quell the pounding in her skull.
"You're going to have a big bruise from where you hit your head on the tub. I bet I could make it look better with some cover-up and-"
Emma suddenly leant over the edge of the basin, her meager breakfast coming back up again.
"I think I need to call Whale. You could have a concussion. Let me get-"
"Mar," came the deep growl of the sheriff.
"Mm?"
Emma fixed her roommate with a look of hatred and betrayal. It turned the brunette's blood to ice. "I remember."
"You do?" Her voice sounded faint, unable to tear her eyes from the gaze that now resembled a feral beast.
"I remember everything, Mary Margaret. And I know you weren't there, but I also know that you knew what happened anyway." The blonde's words were unnervingly calm, but never without the vicious accusation that colored every syllable.
"I... You weren't... What was I supposed to say?" Her feeble excuse was met with a firm, wet slap across the face that sent her toppling to the side. "You fucking knew! And you didn't even tell me!" her voice was rising, echoing in the small room.
"Emma! I'm sorry, but it's clearly not a simple subject-"
"Get out. Now."
"Emma, you just need to relax. You've just been hurt, and you're not thinking right." The words rushed out, trying to be gentle and placating, but they ended up sounding small and frightened.
"It would be in your best interest to leave before I decide to do more than slap you, you cunt." The words came out with such venomous force that all Mary Margaret could do was squeak in terror while she scrambled out of the room, the resounding slamming of the front door meeting Emma's ears shortly after.
The blonde retched again, re-emptying her already-vacant stomach. All of the images, every word, every sound, every memory slammed against her like a giant sack of cinder blocks laced with rusty nails. She remembered trying to leave Storybrooke, and she remembered the sound of Henry's distressed pleading. She remembered him warning her that the turnover given to her by Regina was poisoned, and she remembered the bite she took, followed by blackness.
Given to her by Regina.
Regina.
Emma slipped while flying out of the bathtub, not even bothering to dry herself off as she slammed her body into the first clothing items her trembling fingers came into contact with. Once she was dressed, boots on, red leather armor over her shoulders, Emma snatched up her gun, fixing it to her hip. She sprinted from the apartment to her yellow bug. She didn't notice her petrified roommate watch her tear out of the building, and she definitely didn't hear the gasp of horror when Mary Margaret saw the gun at her side.
Emma pealed out of the parking lot, wishing she could blare the lights and sirens of her police cruiser that she didn't have on her way to City Hall where she knew the mayor would be. She blasted through several stop signs, nearly bowling over several pedestrians and narrowly avoiding a collision at one of the intersections, but she didn't give a flying fuck. She had a pressing appointment with Mayor Mills.
Her boots echoed tightly in the halls as she thundered down the familiar path to Regina's spacious office. She blatantly ignored the alarmed warnings of the secretary as Emma physically skidded to a halt outside the double doors. One look shut the gibbering girl up.
With more control than she thought possible, Emma quietly opened the door, slipping in, keeping her back to the large desk occupying the focus of the room. She heard the scraping of chair legs against the marble floor when she deftly threw the lock in place.
"Ms Swan-" Regina started in an irritated huff, but when her intruder turned to finally face her, a gasp tumbled from perfect red lips. She saw Emma Swan, hair a ratty mess, with an enormous, purple swelling on her forehead glaring at her with such ferocity Regina was sure that the room might combust around them.
Before another sound could escape her lips, she felt the iron fist of an enraged sheriff plow solidly into the left side of her jaw. White-hot pain filled the area as she was thrown off balance, her neck cricking painfully from the impact. Regina didn't have a chance to straighten up from the first punch before a second one buried itself deep into her gut, doubling her over, knocking the wind from her lungs.
Regina's instincts kicked on like a light, and when she sensed another impact heading her way, she clumsily blocked it, then pushed the blonde away from her as hard as she could, still panting heavily from the blow to her stomach.
Emma had slammed roughly into Regina's desk, moving the heavy thing an inch or two. She leant over it, growling with fury, trying to catch her breath for a moment. She spied a gleaming, ripe, red apple sitting innocently beside a tray of paperwork. Blinding rage renewed within her gut when she saw the fruit that nearly murdered her just resting before her eyes.
She could hear the mayor coming closer to try and attack her with her back turned. Emma's fingers wrapped tightly around the apple, and she spun around, slamming her new bludgeon against the side of Regina's head. A severe, mirthless grin spread across her features when she heard the sharp, guttural scream echo around the office as the firm flesh of the fruit split against her skull.
Emma could hear shouting outside the office. Regina was screaming at her from the floor, but no sound seemed to register in her brain. Instead, her fists curled around the lapels of the mayor's blood-stained blazer, and she hauled her off the ground, forcefully slamming her target into the back wall. Another smirk appeared when she heard the breath wheeze from between parted lips. Regina's head bounced painfully off of the wall.
Emma's fingers found purchase around the mayor's thin throat. "YOU'RE A FUCKING PSYCHOTIC LUNATIC! I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, REGINA! YOU TRIED TO FUCKING KILL ME, YOU MURDEROUS ASSHOLE! FOR WHAT?! FOR HENRY?" Regina's face was turning a deep shade of red, while she spluttered, trying to suck in any ounce of air she could find, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, nose, and from under her hair. Her hands clawed at Emma's face, leaving long, sanguine scratches down an ugly mask of unbridled fury.
"IF YOU THOUGHT HE HATED YOU BEFORE, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE'D EVER FORGIVE YOU FOR KILLNG ME? HUH? YOU'RE FUCKING EVIL, REGINA. AND THIS TIME, EVIL NEEDS TO DIE!"
The doors behind her smashed open, David bursting through along with several volunteer deputies in tow. He had his gun out, but all of his bravado and command fell when he saw someone who was supposed to be Emma Swan forcefully strangling a bloodied mayor.
Emma's head swung around, her green eyes blazing without an ounce of compassion, not even flinching at the weapon trained on her. A drop of blood fell from the edge of her chin. That same wicked grin tore across her twisted face. Regina continued to sputter in her iron grip.
"Emma Swan, you are under arrest for aggravated assault and attempted murder. If you do not stand down, I am authorized to use lethal force." His voice was loud, but every single person heard the evident waver, completely undermining any threat he may have tried to hold against the blonde.
"You don't have the guts, Sheriff." Her eyes flitted down to the piece shaking in his clammy hands. She snorted in triumph. "You're just a fucking pussy, and everyone can see it."
She heard a gargling cough from behind her, and turned her head to look at the purple-faced mayor, seeing her brown eyes rolling into the back of her skull. Henry's face blasted through her roiling rage, suddenly realizing that she was minutes away from committing an act she herself had moments before berated the brunette for. Her stiff fingers loosened slightly, and she heard her victim take as much extra air as she physically could.
Emma Swan was many things, but she was not a murderer. Her grip loosened a little more. Regina's eyes locked onto hers, and she saw raw fear in a face that had never before betrayed anything beyond haughty superiority. It made Emma feel sick to her stomach. She pulled the mayor close to her face; they were barely an inch apart, and Emma could feel flecks of spittle and blood hitting her cheeks while Regina still struggled for breath.
"Your move, Madame Mayor," she whispered evenly into the woman's mouth. She threw the brunette to the ground, spitting on her for her final touch of humiliation. Without another word, the blonde ran. She blasted past the stunned David, and all of the onlookers that were left scared shitless. She blew by every paramedic, every employee of the City Hall, every pedestrian, and she blew by a teary Mary Margaret.
Emma slammed into her bug, tearing away from the scene, horrific calm brought on by shock being the only thing keeping her from regurgitating everything within her body all over herself and her car. She was panting heavily, feeling a tingly-numbness in all of her fingers and toes, and madly blinking blood from her eyes.
She couldn't go back to the apartment, and she couldn't exactly stay at Granny's without her presence being discovered. She couldn't leave Storybrooke; that would only make things worse for everyone. Especially Henry. But she needed to get away. If she had a tent, she could crash in the woods for a few days. However, Emma did not own a tent.
But the woods seemed like they held the most promise. When she thought about it a moment longer, the memory of a tiny cabin tucked away in the forest where Mr Gold brought Moe to do some homegrown interrogation swam into her view. She was sure it didn't have power, or heat, but she had roughed it with less in her glory days. It seemed like the best place for her to hide out while she could try to wrestle the typhoon of hatred, violence, betrayal, disgust and anguish into submission.
She jerked the wheel of the bug, directing herself toward the dirt roads that wove like the paths of a labyrinth into the murky depths of the Maine forest. The farther she drove from town, the more surreal Emma's situation became, and she genuinely couldn't tell if she was trapped in another one of her nightmares, or if reality had indeed decided to take a huge dump on her. The former seemed more appealing, so she stuck to the misty hopes that she would wake up before the shit really hit the fan.
Don't worry, guys! It has to get worse before it can get better! You can always find me on Tumblr at writers-dilemma. tumblr. com I promise that I don't bite! Come say hi! I would also like to extend the offer to write a one-shot for whomever is the 200th reviewer on this fic! I love each and every one of you for your support and encouragement. If I could, I'd give you all squishy huggles!