So here was the prompt: Can you come up with a reason for why Emma looked so sick last episode? I don't know if you noticed but I did.

I did notice, my mom and I both thought she looked tired. I think part of it is the red eyeliner she's had on, but I also think there's something in thereto make it look like she's going dark. It focuses in on her face in the last scene of 4x18 and that's a fairly sinister look if you ask me...Also, for the season four "dark side" promo she has the same look. Anyway, this is what I came up with.

Side note for the reviewer who requested a response to the poem: It will be the next thing posted, I've been working on it and am somewhat pleased with how it's going. I just wanted to get this up while the episode was still pretty fresh in people's minds.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters

15. Haunted

As she approached the little bundle of cloth in the woods, Emma saw that there was a sleeping baby, carefully wrapped in the soft blanket. It reminded her so much of herself that she had to hold back tears. Knowing that she had once been the same defenseless infant, in a similar wood, she looked around; maybe this child had an August. All things considered, she was still relatively new to magic, but she could sense the familiar tingling of magic around. Her eyes scanned gaps between the trees, but there was no one to be seen.

She knelt down to pick up the baby - how could she leave it all alone? This could just as easily have been her.

As her hands circled around the bundle, the infant stirred. A smile spread across Emma's face when the baby's tiny fists reached out and almost its whole face was taken over by an enormous yawn.

And then it opened its eyes.

Emma's smile faltered. The tingling feeling of magic grew stronger, like pin pricks on her skin now, painful and ominous.

Its gaze found Emma's, and her green eyes met two dark, fiendish, consuming orbs of black.

Emma shot up in bed, the darkness from those eyes only just releasing her from their hold as she identified her surroundings in her room.

Three days ago, her parents had told her the truth. Three nights ago, the nightmares had begun.

She stared at the ceiling for some time, but gave up on going back to sleep. Physically, she was exhausted from the total of nine - ten, maybe - hours of sleep she had gotten over the course of the past three nights, but mentally she was restless.

She tossed her covers off and shuffled into the bathroom, squinting as she flipped on the lights. She splashed some warm water on her face as her eyes adjusted and focused on the sight in the mirror.

Eyes puffy, dark circles beneath them, lips slightly pursed, cheeks a bit drawn. Exhaustion evident.

This was the face of the savior, who had only just embraced her role as the intrinsically good, the inherently pure, the product of the true love of two heroes.

And all of it was a lie. She was not destined to be the savior by birth, nor was she the product of true love. All the light in her stemmed from the darkest of magic, from the most heinous act she could imagine, committed by the most self-righteous people she had ever met.

What they did would haunt her forever.

She turned away from the mirror, unsure anymore of what it was reflecting back at her.

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