New York
The weight of Emma’s lack of sleep grew over the remainder of her shift. She finished up in a mechanical haze, her eyes coming in and out of focus. David insisted she knock off an hour early, encouraging her to “get an early night”, which she knew she would never follow through on. Regina was right though, staying up all night was not the solution. Still, she couldn’t find a better one. She wasn’t getting a proper sleep regardless of whether she went to bed or not, and now there was the looming threat of where she might wind up if she did.
As she slouched out to her car, the tiniest voice whispered that it had been nice not to wake up alone. Seeing another person – someone she trusted to have her back – well, it had helped. When she was still in the dregs of her nightmare, she had been relieved to see Regina. Even once she had been pulled out of it, there had still been this lingering relief.
She paused at her car, allowing her eyes to drift across the street. An uncomfortable light-headedness fogged her awareness, and she accepted that she wasn’t in the best state to drive. She pulled her jacket tighter against her frame and continued on foot. At least the loft wasn’t far. Arguably, there was no need to drive in at all, but she preferred the Bug to the station car and liked to have the option.
Emma had suffered with nightmares most of her life. She wasn’t alone in that. Virtually every child she had met in the system did. In the really full group homes where they packed them in like sardines, everyone was woken by a nightmare daily whether it was their own or someone else’s. These days, they came and went, usually in relation to stress. Her last bout had been in New York. She couldn’t explain it at the time. Everything had been perfect – had seemed perfect – and it was the first time in her life she had ever felt so comfortable. Except for the nightmares. Each time she’d wake with the fervent feeling that she’d lost something important, hazy half-memories lingering over her.
It made sense after Hook had delivered her the memory potion. The nightmares, the longing, all of it had stopped for a time. Until she’d gone to the past. Until she’d watched her mother die. Until she’d lost Regina. Until she’d been overcome with a wave of helplessness unlike she’d felt since she was a child. Because when she’d given Henry up, she had been a child. Then there was all this again and she was tired.
Emma paused, steadying herself against a wall as a rush of tears clouded her vision. She was so tired. And she was back here again with the people she loved and the overwhelming, crushing responsibility of keeping them safe. A few months ago, all she’d had to worry about was making Henry do his homework.
She brushed away the tears as best she could, forcing her feet to continue along the pavement.
Emma was ok, just tired.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Regina’s name against the text accompanied a rush of shame and appreciation. Henry was wondering when Family Dinner could resume? You are welcome tonight.
She wished she could bring herself to do it. Despite her phone having a very capable autocorrect, Emma went in and manually changed the corrections to the shorthand that wildly irritated Regina. Cant tnite. Next week.
She smiled to herself at the eyeroll that would meet the message and waited with anticipation for what was sure to be an eloquent complaint.
-
Regina hadn’t actually expected Emma to accept the offer of dinner, but she was disappointed nonetheless, and she knew Henry would be too. Still, she hoped being able to tell him that they could start up again shortly would put a smile on his face and hopefully keep him from worrying about Emma. It wasn’t his job to worry about his mothers, but he sure liked to make it so.
As she prepared one of his favourites, her mind couldn’t help but drift between the two like a parent trying to rescue both their drowning infants. Henry was adjusting well to being back, but part of her couldn’t help but wonder if both of them had been better off in New York. At first, he had been keeping in touch with the friends he had made there but a few days ago had admitted that he couldn’t be bothered censoring everything that went on in his daily life for them anymore. Emma, too, had let slip that she’d once again gone cold turkey on her life outside of Storybrooke. Henry had called it ghosting, and Emma had agreed with a somewhat haunted look.
Maybe their lives had been better away from her. They’d only been back two minutes and Henry had once again lost his father, and – however briefly – Emma had watched her mother die. They’d all almost watched Emma freeze to death, been attacked by yet another beast – maybe Emma had been right to want to keep him from this.
Regina had nothing from that year worth missing.
The sound of the door opening and clattering shut – a sure sign that Henry was home – dragged her from her thoughts. She brushed down imaginary wrinkles in her shirt and shook the wetness from her eyes before heading out to greet him. It wouldn’t do for him to grow concerned over Regina as well.
“You’re later than I was expecting.” Regina placed the cutlery on the table, pleased the food she had made wouldn’t go to waste. At the pinched expression, she added, “is everything alright?”
He shrugged, throwing his bag at the foot of the stairs. Though she wanted to remind him to put it away properly, she swallowed down her complaint in preference of resolving the look on her son’s face first. “I went to the station to see Ma.”
Regina’s stomach flurried. She quelled her own anxiety before asking, “and?”
“She wasn’t there. Grandpa sent her home.” He dropped into his usual chair, a heaviness weighing him down. “I don’t think she’s sleeping again.”
Well, Henry was certainly observant, she had to give him that. She pressed a kiss to his mussed head before moving to the kitchen to plate up their food. It was good that David had sent her away early, and if Emma were a more responsible person, she would believe that she might take the opportunity to get a good rest. Truthfully, she couldn’t see that happening, but at least the law enforcement officers on duty tonight were not sleep deprived.
Henry continued as soon as she returned to the dining room. “She barely slept the whole time we were in New York.”
“Is that so?” This was the first she was hearing of anything being less than perfect in New York, and a selfish relief clawed at her chest to bring her shame later.
Henry picked at the food she’d spent over an hour lovingly cooking. “Yeah. She had nightmares like all the time. They stopped when we came back to Storybrooke. Or at least…they had?” He looked up, seemingly into nowhere as he organised his thoughts. “D’you think they started again when I came back here?”
“Henry,” her voice was soft, loving in a way it could only ever be for him. “If Emma is having nightmares, it is not your fault. Nor your responsibility, might I add.”
“Maybe.” He pushed the sauteed vegetables across the plate. “Have you talked to her about Family Dinner?”
At least she could give him a tiny bit of good news. “Yes, they’ll resume next week.”
Henry’s face exploded with joy, his entire disposition growing lighter all at once. Finally, he brought a bite up to his mouth and exclaimed, “this is really good, Mom,” and regaled her with stories and gossip from his day. His joy allowed her to relax, and she pushed aside all her worries to surely be revisited later that night.