WARNING: This chapter contains A LOT of strong language, and scenes revolving around alcohol abuse. If you can't do that, please skip!
Ready to have your feels bludgeoned again? Good, cause it's about to happen! This chapter is pretty rough, and I know Ruby seems like a bitch, but Emma needs it. Desperately. I hope you enjoy, and again, thank you all for reading and sticking with me on this! It's a wild ride, and I'm getting tossed as much as you all are!
Emma rolled over onto her side, head hanging off the edge of the bed, retching loudly. A long dribble of foamy, amber liquid slopped onto the floor, making the existing puddle of drying vomit a little larger. Her arm slung over the edge, and the heavy thud of glass against wood, combined with the sloshing of whiskey rattled around her scrambled brain. She grunted, spitting leftover puke from her mouth before dragging the bottle of Jack along the floor and up to her slack lips.
"Emma, when is this going to stop?" he asked for the hundredth time.
"Go th' fuuuuck away," she slurred blearily. "I don' want your shhit righ' n-now."
"I don't care that you don't want it. The truth is that you need it."
She hated it when he was patronizingly moralistic and shit. "Tha's bullshit." She took another long swig from the half-empty bottle.
"Gods! Would you just look at yourself, Emma!" His face crumpled in disgust as he looked at the woman lolling around on the musty little cot.
"I know wha' I look like!" she shouted, leaning up on her left arm, brandishing the index finger of the hand gripping her precious whiskey at the unwanted visitor. "D'you think I'm-" Emma leaned over, expelling more liquor from her stomach, clutching her head in pain.
"Oh? You can see, can you? I'm surprised at that! Especially considering how you've been pissed drunk for an entire day and a half now!"
"Fuck off...Graham! You don' get to lectr'e me on shit!" She glared at the late sheriff.
"Why is that? Why do I have no say?" He attempted to sound patient, but the bite in his tone hardened the words.
"Because!" She hiccupped. "You're...you're fuckin' dead! You shouldn't be sayin' anything at all!" She brandished her finger at him again, although her glare was weakened by her heavy, drunk eyes and thick, glossy tears.
"I may be dead, Emma, but that doesn't mean I've had my tongue cut out. It doesn't mean my voice has been silenced." This was something he tried to explain to her before, but there were always two kinds of drunks: The ones that blindly believe every word you say, and the ones that think you're perpetually bullshitting them. Emma was the latter. And a belligerent one at that. The sheriff scrambled from the bed, unable to stand, crawling on wobbly arms and legs toward the semi-translucent figure of the dead man. She swung heavily at him, her fist sailing through empty, cold air.
"FUCK! OFF!" she shrieked wildly, eyes popping wide, sour saliva sailing from her mouth. "JUST LEAVE ME TH' FUCK ALONE!" She slumped forward on all fours, cradling her head in her hands. "...Please," Emma said softly, her weeping overtaking her rage.
"I'll go for now... But, Emma, I will be back. I'm not going to leave you."
"Why did you leave me in th' firss place?" she slurred against the floorboards. "You weren't s'posed to go..."
"I never wanted to go. If I could have changed my fate-"
"Go. Now. Please." Her plea was met with silence, and when she felt the air get slightly cooler, she knew he had gone. But when she looked up, a small, lonely, pathetic, drunken part of her hoped that she would still see him standing there, looking down on her. The room was empty, and the Jack she recently consumed slammed into her. Emma collapsed, having passed out for the third time in 36 hours.
The blonde groaned loudly, the left side of her face numb from where it had been pressed against the floor. She lifted her head up, wiping a little trail of drool from her chin. A string of profanities spouted from her, and she slumped back down, clutching her head, trying to keep it from bursting. The woman couldn't remember ever having a hangover of the magnitude that she was currently experiencing. If someone came, ripped all of her skin off and dunked her body in a vat of lemon juice, she would probably still feel better than how she did right at that moment.
"Fuck... How much did I drink?" she mumbled out to herself. It was dark in the cabin, and she was reluctant to reach for any lights, already knowing it would only intensify the stabbing pain in her throbbing eyeballs.
"A lot. You had more than a litre of Jack Daniels."
"Oh God... Not you again."
"You're lucky that you threw up about half of that. No one needs you dead from alcohol poisoning."
"You sure about that?" she mumbled, not looking up. Emma had exactly zero desire to see Graham's face again. "I'm beginning to think everybody's better off without me."
"Who is everybody exactly?" She could feel him getting a little closer. The hairs on her arms stood on end.
"Y'know...everybody. No one needs me. I just...get in the way."
"What about Henry?"
"He's got Regina."
"And Mary Margaret?"
"David...if they ever make up."
"I needed you."
"The moment you started needing me, you got dead. Pretty sure that's not how it's supposed to work."
"How can you brush off Henry like you did? He's your son! He-"
"He hates me now!" Emma spat each word with as much venom as she could muster, ignoring the pounding ache reverberating throughout her skull, actually looking up at Graham from the floor. "What is there to fight for? I'm a fucking piece of shit, and he doesn't need me-" She paused.
"Yes?" Graham goaded, finally getting more than profanity and drunken right hooks.
"I'm not discussing this with a fucking ghost...or whatever the hell you are. Probably a hallucination."
And we're back to the profanity. "Emma, why does it matter what I am? The truth comes in all forms. Whether I am a ghost, hallucination or apparition-"
"What the hell? You don't even know what you are? Jesus fucking Christ! I am NOT doing this! Go away. Let me drink in fucking peace!"
"So what...? You can drink yourself to death?"
"If I'm lucky. If I drink myself to death before Regina kills me, I'd consider that a win." Emma slowly picked herself up from the floor, wobbling dangerously on unstable legs, picking up the whiskey bottle on the way. Time for a little hair of the dog.
"What if Regina can't kill you?" Graham hedged, his tone strange. The air suddenly got a lot closer, the question still left dangling between them. Emma froze, her knuckles white around the neck of the bottle.
"Go. Now." Her voice was low and dangerous, though she wasn't sure what threat she could pose to something she couldn't even touch. His query made her feel like an alarmed cat, back arched, claws out, and tail bottle-brushed sticking straight up. It made her mouth run dry and a thin sheen of sweat coat her palms and temples.
"Did you-"
"Now, Graham, or so help me-" The air took on a slight chill. He was gone. She picked up her cane, which was hanging on a chair nearby. She hobbled out to the porch, taking a long swig of liquor. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach almost immediately, and a deep groan of relief rumbled in her throat. The blonde lowered herself onto the rickety porch steps, peering across the little lake as she had done countless times - both sober and not - since her arrival.
Another long gulp, and she grimaced from the burn. Life was so fucking painful when she was wasted, but right now, in her brief and waning moment of sobriety, Emma felt a strong pull to walk into the lake and just...never come back out of it. A hot wave of guilt washed over her. Had she really just dismissed Henry as though he were little more than a passing fancy in her life? Just a distant memory, barely worth acknowledging? Emma drank again. If she hadn't been sober, she wouldn't have said that. And that was terrible reasoning, even for her. But anything to ease the pandemonium of hell twisting maliciously around every inch of her being was worth it.
It started to rain, and Emma started counting. Not her heart, not her breath. She started counting the drops causing ripples on the surface of the lake. She swallowed more whiskey. Emma counted the gravel stones at the tips of her boots. Did she just count the sixties twice? The blonde tried numbering the blades of grass poking up between the gravel. Her head felt warm and fuzzy. Her throat burned hot while the rest of her body shivered. Emma simply counted, though she never made it past 33 every time she tried. Her bottle was empty. She needed the second one. What if Regina can't kill you? echoed at the back of her brain.
Ruby pulled up next to Emma's car, picking up her umbrella before exiting the vehicle. She had more food and some extra creature comforts to bring Emma while she pulled herself together to sort out this catastrophe that she waltzed right into. She moved to the back door of the car, opening it with her right hand and holding the umbrella with the other. She pulled out a familiar-looking duffel bag, slamming the door with her boot.
She was hoping the sheriff wouldn't hold her at gunpoint again, but now that Emma knew she was her ally, she doubted her friend would do so once seeing her. When she rounded the corner of the cabin, humming quietly to herself, the brunette did not find herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. She didn't see Emma on the porch, and for a split second, she assumed Emma was inside. And then she saw her.
The bright red of the sheriff's signature jacket caught Ruby's eye first. Emma was face down on the sodden ground, out cold. She dropped the bag and umbrella, bolting to her friend's side. She couldn't tell immediately if she was even breathing, and knelt down next to her.
"Emma!" she shouted, pulling the blonde over, and yanking her limp body onto her lap. "Holy shit, Em! You're fucking cold!" Ruby yanked her higher up her lap, sliding her hands under wet leather, trying to rub some heat into the frigid flesh beneath. "If you're dead, Emma Swan, I swear I will find away to bring you back to life and personally shit-kick you for being such a stupid ass!"
The brunette ducked her head against Emma's chest. She heard a fluttering heartbeat and shakily sighed with relief. "Good, you're alive. Now I can skip the resurrection and go straight to beating you stupid for scaring the crap out of me!"
The woman stood up, positioned herself at Emma's head, and hooked her hands in the unconscious sheriff's underarms, managing to awkwardly drag her body up the steps, across the porch, and into the little house. The first thing she noticed once she had her friend's body half through the doorway was the smell. It definitely wasn't there during her last visit. She took a quick look around and gagged at all of the puddles of vomit.
"Fuck, Em! What have you been doing?" She resumed her dragging until she deposited the body by the fire. She definitely needed to get her warmed up. It didn't take her long to locate a towel, and she moved to the blonde's side, awkwardly divesting the motionless form from as much wet clothing as she could safely get away with, occasionally eliciting a small grunt or groan. Once the sheriff was in nothing but her damp undergarments, Ruby set about toweling her off, rubbing warmth back into pale, icy skin with the plush fabric.
Emma groaned loudly and stirred slightly, flopping her hands as though she were trying to rub her face. Ruby couldn't tell if she was relieved or still too pissed to care. She settled for both, rolling her eyes and toweling off long, blonde tresses. Emma groaned again and tried to roll over, but the brunette kept her firmly planted against her thighs.
"Stop squirming. You shouldn't move too much right now," she grunted.
"Well...I dun need your help," the sheriff slurred sleepily, not opening her eyes to even see whose aid she's refusing.
"Sure. 'Cause you would've been perfectly fine on your own. You would've, oh, I don't know...not died on your own?" There were times when Ruby wished she had the patience and gentle demeanor of Mary Margaret, but that simply wasn't the case. She was letting her anger get the better of her, and she was ashamed to say that she felt sorely tempted to get up and leave Emma in her own puddle of drunken misery.
"Not dead."
"Not yet. Thanks to me, you dolt." She smacked her friend's face with the towel, and Emma's face scrunched in displeasure. "You're probably going to wish you were when I'm done with you," she grumbled.
"Already do," the blonde responded bluntly.
"Fine, I'll go drown you in the lake, and save myself the trouble of dealing with your shit right now."
"Good. Bury m'body in th' mines." That line snapped the brunette's delicately-balanced reservoir of patience. She violently slapped Emma's face with the towel, roughly dumping the body off of her lap. She shot to her feet, pacing immediately like an agitated panther, eyes blazing with fury and disbelief.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" she yelled at the prone woman.
"Jesus! What the hell!?" She sort of sat up on her forearms, finally prying her eyes open to peer at the bristling woman above her. "Are you crazy?"
"Are you?"
"S'not like I was lyin' or anything... The fuck does it even matter anyway? Why th'hell d'you even care anyway?"
The look of vehement disgust on Ruby's face was so severe that the blonde was forced to avert her eyes. "The mere fact that you have to ask that should be grounds enough for me to just leave right now." she said with deadly calm.
"Fine. Ev'ryone else does. My parents, my foster parents, Neal, Graham, Henry, you. Why d'you think I'd be happier floating facedown in a remote lake?" she sniffled softly.
"You know, that whole self-pity thing might work on someone else, but not me. Not now. How dare you say any of that shit! You fucked up, Em. Big time. Everyone knows that. God forbid that I was under the impression that you came here to collect yourself! I've been gone for three days, and I can see that you've had almost three litres of whiskey, and," she looked disparagingly around the room. "It looks like you've yakked up about half of that."
"What's your point?" Emma was still sprawled on her stomach in front of the fire, still wearing only her undergarments - though she did drape the soggy towel around her shoulders.
Ruby only narrowed her eyes further, continuing to pace aggressively. "My point? Jesus fucking Christ, Emma! You're not out here to die of alcohol poisoning and self-loathing!"
"You sure about that? 'Cause that's what it looks'like to me," the blonde drawled.
"I've noticed," she said dryly. "Which is why I'm never bringing you alcohol anymore." Emma scoffed at that, rolling her eyes in a Gee-thanks-Mom style. "You're not going to take me seriously, are you?"
The blonde shot her a petulant, withering look. "Why should I?" Her tone perfectly mimicked that of a grousing teenager.
"If only Henry could see you right now," the waitress whispered almost pityingly.
At that, Emma unsteadily shot to her feet, wobbling up to the other woman, getting right up in her face. "Everyone needs to stop using my son against me, like he's some trump card you can smash in my face any time you want to win!" she hissed. Ruby's lip curled in disgust at the fetid odor of stale liquor and vomit that clung to the sheriff. "Lucky for me," she said sarcastically. "Henry fucking hates me now anyway. So what the hell does it matter now, huh? I'm hearing the same thing from all fuckin' sides! I get it from Mary Margaret, from Regina, from Graham, and now you!"
"Graham...?" Ruby looked at Emma, confused. The blonde looked as though she was about to be physically ill again, and the waitress took a generous step backward.
"S'nothing. That doesn't matter. You all just need to leave me the fuck alone! Henry has Regina! She'll take better care of him anyway! She wins, and she can go have her happy fuckin' ending with..." Emma's lip wobbled dangerously, and she sank to her knees, still too weak and drunk to stand for much longer.
"I'm not sure you deserve to know this," Ruby said, still unmoved by her friend's state. "But there aren't any happy endings going on at the Mills' house." Green eyes peered up at her, confused by that statement. "This surprises you? Wow, seriously? Henry's been depressed, to say the least, since your little...show of force. He hardly talks to anyone, and Regina... Well, no one's seen her since that day either. No one but David.
"And Emma? He said when he called to ask her to come to the station so he could take a statement for the case - against you, I might add - that she freaked the hell out. Know why?" The blonde shook her head no. "Because she was terrified to go to the station. Because it reminded her of you, and that scared her shitless.
"David said he had to go to the mansion himself. He said he wasn't allowed to come 'til after dark, and when he went into Regina's office, almost all the lights were out. She was all wrapped up, and hiding her face as much as possible. Regina Mills was ashamed of her appearance! Have you ever seen her like that? No? No one has. You did a real fucking number on her, Em. So I can promise you that there is zero rejoicing happening back in town." Ruby continued glaring down at the blonde.
"I...didn't-"
"Know? Of course you didn't know. You were too busy holed up in this barf-shack, so far beyond plastered that you almost drowned in a fucking puddle, that I fucking dragged you out of. And even then, you were about ready to die of hypothermia. So yeah, you didn't know."
Emma stayed on her knees, staring up at Ruby, completely dumbstruck. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She repeated that action several times, unable to think of a proper response. Her head was still so muddled from her mammoth hangover and the Jack still pounding around her brain.
"Good. It's about time you shut the hell up and listened to me," Ruby spat. "I'm going to take the rest of the shit I brought you in here, sans liquor. You're going to dry the fuck out, and get your shit together. When I come back to check on you again, I better see Emma Swan. Not this pathetic piece of crap I'm looking at. Understand?"
The sheriff nodded wordlessly, looking for all the world like a strongly-scolded child, wringing her hands, tears leaking out of her eyes. Ruby turned without a word, going to rescue the umbrella and drenched duffel bag from the rain. When she reentered, she continued to shoot dirty looks at crumpled woman on the floor. She emptied the contents of the bag, haphazardly spreading the clothes she brought out in front of the fire. She carried the food and vitamin waters that she picked up over to the kitchenette, unceremoniously piling them on the little counter.
The fuming brunette moved to stand in front of Emma again. "I'm going to leave now. You know what you have to do." The sheriff nodded weakly again, still blubbering drunkenly. Ruby softened for a moment. She leant down, tucking her fingers under Emma's chin, lifting those green eyes to meet her own. "I know it's a shitstorm right now, but...you're stronger than you know. Find your strength again. If you don't, you'll never resurface." She pressed a quick kiss to the woman's forehead, then turned and left.
As usual, you can find me on Tumblr at writers-dilemma. tumblr. com And if you have any questions, comments, or just feel like chatting, don't ever hesitate to message me! I love hearing from you guys, and I'm not mean! And feel free to find my darling Beta, Jasmine, at obligatory-regal-name. tumblr. com