Chapter 2
Emma doesn't hear from or see Regina or Henry.
Since Regina woke Henry from the sleeping curse, the phrase "True Love's Kiss" repeats itself in Emma's mind as if on endless loop. If Henry and Regina were bound together by true love, who the hell is she to interfere. Emma goes out of her way to avoid people - especially Mary Margaret and David. She gets in her bug and drives to places as remote as she can find. Alone without distraction, she wonders about what she should do - for Henry, for herself. Screw everyone else. Especially Regina. This is so fucked up.
Emma decides not to go back. She finds herself on the road, engine running in neutral, the backside of the "Welcome to Storybrooke" a mocking reminder to the day she arrived there. Shifting into first, the bug crosses the town line without incident, Emma doesn't even look in the rear-view or side mirrors until she is miles away.
Her thoughts are buzzing around in her head like angry bees. Should she go back to Boston? If she does will Henry come searching for her again? Should she return to Storybrooke and try to work this through somehow? Should she move to New York and just say "Fuck it!" and begin a life anew? Mary Margaret and David are her parents? That's ridiculous! No, that is fucking hilarious! What the hell am I even thinking? She is so distracted by her thinking that she pulls over to the side of the road - wherever she is - so she doesn't accidentally crash. She exits her car and starts stomping on the dirt shoulder. Looking down with each step she takes, feeling as if she's crushing insects under her feet - trying to obliterate a thought with each stomp. When Emma does stop, she turns to see she her Bug in the far distance.
She doesn't really care what town this is, just that it's somewhere closer to Boston than it is to Storybrooke. The motel looks like the set of "Psycho" but compared to what she's been through she finds that a strange relief. The 50's style diner attached to the motel reminded her too much of Granny's so she just got take-out and headed to her room. Looking around said room she noticed how mismatched and old everything was, as if someone purchased its contents from a rummage sale. That thought made her chuckle quietly and she sat down on the side of the bed to remove the contents of her paper bag. Very disappointing. The burger, fries and shake were the blandest things she'd ever consumed. She pulled a bottle from the other bag and inspected its label and amber liquid. She'd bought the whisky in hopes of silencing her brain, falling asleep in a drunken stupor, and possibly waking up with a really bad hangover - but maybe, in some inconceivable way, yesterday was only a dream. A real sucky, horrible, damn dream.
---
"Fuckity fuck fuck!! Oww!!! Emma holds her aching head. "Well, stupid idea," she comments, carefully moving her legs over the side of the bed. Feet firmly on the floor, she slowly moves her elbows to her knees to rest them there, her head still cradled in her palms. I don't suppose I'm still dreaming?
Dream or not, this is her reality for now. The blonde eventually brings herself to stand and look in the bathroom mirror. She acknowledges that she looks like shit. When her mobile phone rings, Emma screams in pain. Resisting the urge to throw it against the nearest hard object, she answers her phone so quickly she doesn't see who it is that's calling her.
Emma's voice is low and croaky, "Hello", she whispers. The all-too-recognizable voice is also low and soft, "Are you okay?"