So this is what the truth feels like
This is more of what I had in mind
Yeah this is what the truth feels like
And I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it
Something about this just feels so right, alright
Truth – Gwen Stefani
The truth is a bitch.
The sediment was one of the many things rolling around Emma's head for the next several days. She had promised John Doe that she would find out who he was, but so far she was no closer to an answer. After talking with the man, Dr. Whale had come back into the room for more tests and she and Henry were off to see August.
Too bad August didn't have problems with the truth.
Unfortunately for Emma, Henry had babbled excitedly to her best friend before she could stop him, and now August knew all about what he was now calling "True Love's Kiss". She was never going to live that down. Although, she had pinched him hard behind Henry's back until he agreed to keep that secret between the two of them and not tell her two big brothers.
Emma sighed watching the horse in front of her. She had visited the hospital early today – without Henry because she really didn't need that headache thanks you very much – and was now back at the ranch and back to work.
Today she was working with another client horses, a large painted Gypsy Vanner by the name of Nana whose owner -John something or other- wanted trained as a vaulting horse. Emma loved her job, she really did. Working with horses had been her dream from the moment she saw Ruth working with her husband's old chestnut as a young girl. But it was days like these that she remembered one certain fact.
The truth is a bitch, she thought angrily.
Nana's owner had told her that Nana had never been trained in vaulting in any form, something which Emma actually liked. A blank slate was always easier. But looking at the paint loping around the ring, Emma could tell that that had been a lie. Nana most certainly had some training on her, and it was all wrong.
Emma rubbed one hand across her sore neck as she watched the horse. She wondered how many trainers this poor mare had already gone through before winding up at Mist Haven. She was going to have her work cut out for her as she tried to retrain all of the mare's bad habits. Which meant another unfortunate truth; today was going to be long.
The truth's a bitch, she sighed dejectedly.
Emma was beyond tired when she finally made it into the house that night. She was grateful that Mary Margret had watched Henry for the night, letting her catch up on all the work that had fallen sideways with everything going on. She would certainly blame all the stress and work for what she would do next.
Emma had just finished eating her reheated dinner – another thank you to Mary Margret – when the landline rang.
Not bothering to check the caller ID Emma answered with a tired "Hello?"
"Ms. Swan? It's Dr. Whale, are you busy?"
"Not at all." Emma said sitting up straighter. She had just spoken to Dr. Whale that morning before her visit with John Doe. What could possibly have gone wrong now?
"Good, good. Sorry to call so late but I figured it would be best to give you a heads up before tomorrow." He didn't seem all that sorry but with thoughts of lightning and levers Emma let it slide.
"For what?" Emma asked, less creeped out now and more confused.
"I've finished all my tests on John Doe, everything but his memory seems to be in great shape –" Emma tried not to let the great shape line lead her thoughts on to a different path "- and I'll be discharging him tomorrow. So if you can pick him up around 10 and then he'll only need to come back in once a week for rechecks."
"Are you sure he's ready?" Emma was reeling. The man had just been in a coma, could they honestly be thinking of sending him home already? "He just woke up!"
Dr. Whale let out a laugh before he answered. "Completely sure Ms. Swan. That's the power of science. So I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow at 10."
"Alright," Emma relented before hanging up the phone.
It was half way through brushing her teeth that Emma had realized what she had just done.
John Doe doesn't have a home to be sent back to, and I'm the one picking him up.
John Doe, the man with the startlingly blue eyes and drop dead sexy accent was coming home with her.
Crap.
Henry, the little traitor, was thrilled at the news. He spent the better part of their morning helping Emma set up John's room. It wasn't much. The house it's self was quite large, it had been in Ruth's family for six generations and she had always kept the spare rooms set up for guests. When to her great surprise, the house came into her possession, Emma had kept up the habit. Still, she wasn't quite the home maker that Ruth had been. The sheets were clean and the curtains were up letting the morning sun flow through the room. She might not have warm cookies on a plate and perfectly fluffed pillows, but Emma considered it a win.
Henry was now bouncing excitedly up and down beside her as she stood waiting by the front desk of the hospital for John Doe to arrive. Emma wished she could share his enthusiasm. Instead she only felt worry clawing through her chest.
What if he doesn't want to stay with us? What it the whole thing creeps him out and he's just too polite to say anything?
Emma hadn't even gotten to the point about worrying about what to do with him once she did get him home. She decided to panic about that when she had more time, and preferably a pillow to scream into.
Someone really should have written a book on this or something: How to care for the coma guy you found on the street 101. Small talk with Strangers for Dummies.
Emma knew they wouldn't sell many copies but a part of her in this moment couldn't help but wish for such titles to be found on the shelves of the local bookstore.
Emma would have to check amazon later, because John Doe, who was now out of his hospital gown and back in his leather jacket, was being rolled towards Henry and her by a disgruntled looking nurse.
"I've bloody well told you already!" His loud voice traveled. Or at least Emma hoped it did, she hoped that she wasn't already that good at picking his accent out of her surrounding noises. "I still have my legs! It's my sodding hand that's in a wrap, I can walking!"
Well no wonder the nurse looks as if she's going to put his other hand in a brace.
Emma couldn't help but be amused by this. Clearly she wasn't the only one a little on edge today. The amusement faded fast when his eyes landed on her. His clear blue orbs were startled, and held something close to disbelief.
"Swan." He had taken to calling her by her surname since waking up. Emma loved it.
"Anything?" She asked, trying to ignore how shocked he looked to see her waiting for him at discharge.
He seemed to calm down a bit. "Nothing."
This had become something of a game between the two. Rather than asking every time she saw him whether or not his memory had come back, Emma simply asked one word.He seemed to appreciate that after giving his response she dropped it. No point in dwelling on missing memories. It wouldn't bring them back. What neither of them ever said was that maybe nothing could.
"What are you doing here?" He still seemed a bit uncertain.
"We're going home!" Henry cheered, rushing forward to leap straight into John Doe's lap.
"Oh god, sorry. It that allowed?" Emma asked the nurse behind John.
"Whatever keeps him in the chair. I need to get him out the doors before he can stand up." The frazzled nurse pushed him forward as Emma signed the last of John Doe's paper work and followed.
As the nurse had predicted, Henry kept John in the chair. Her boy was laughing excitedly, telling John all about the horses and the pond, and all the other things Henry would show him when they got home. Emma tried and failed to stop her heart swelling at the sight.
Standing up, John took henry with him, balancing the boy on his hips as he turned to Emma.
"I'm going with you?" He asked, insecurity flashing across his beautiful face before he could mask it.
Emma felt a crack run along her heart at the thought. He hadn't been uncomfortable and short with the nurse that morning because he was worried about going home with her when he left. He had been worried about where he was going to go at all.
"You really think I'd let you wander the streets of Storybrooke alone?" She teased with a tense smile.
"Given our lack of history, can you blame me for being uncertain?" Something in his blue eyes flashed, some long standing hurt that ran deep through him. Emma was certain not even he knew why it was there.
"I guess not." Her response was quite, soft in a way he hadn't heard before. The moment was broken by Henry, arms flailing as he gestured to the car excitedly. "We better get going," Emma began over Henry's excited yells. "We've got a lot to do today."
Emma tried to convince herself that it was one of Henry's flying arms that knocked the wind out of John Doe's chest, and not the smile she had given him a moment before. But then again, the truth's a bitch.