Emma Swan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cursebreaking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-04-07 06:51 pm
cursebreaking) wrote in entrancelogs2014-04-07 06:51 pm
[OPEN] But you can skyrocket away from me;
Who: Emma Swan & you!
Where: The eighth floor, then out on the grounds.
When: 4/7, all day.
Rating: PG
Summary: Emma realizes that Henry's disappearance is permanent.
The Story:
It wasn't unusual for Lucky to try and drag Emma out of bed before she was ready. The only thing that made today any different was that no matter how many times she tried to swat him away and insisted he let her sleep, he continued to press his nose against her feed, relocating to do the same with her face when his first attempts didn't get results. It was the whining that broke her, and she sighed heavily as she grudgingly pushed the covers aside, forcing herself to her feet despite the desire to stay in bed a little longer and try to hold onto those first few minutes of waking where she didn't quite remember that Henry was missing.
"Alright, alright. I'm up. Come on, let's get you some breakfast."
The dalmatian raced ahead of her to reach the bedroom door first, pawing at it until Emma pulled it open with every intention of heading into the small living space that was smushed between her room and Henry's -- but stopped short two steps in.
The door opposite of her bedroom was gone, nothing but smooth, blank wall and a single mirror in its place. A quick look around the room was enough to confirm what she had already begun to suspect, and her heart dropped into her stomach. There was no trace of Henry there in that room. None of his books, none of his clothes, none of the things were where she had left them. Even his backpack was missing from its place beside their couch.
Nothing. There was nothing left of him. He was gone. Back in New York, back having the life he should have had, but without her.
It was the last part that hurt so badly.
For a moment she felt numb. Lucky went and parked himself in front of the mirror that had replaced Henry's door while Emma slowly forced herself to swallow down the sick feeling that had begun to rise, fumbling her way through the next ten minutes or so but somehow coming out the other end fully dressed and mostly presentable, despite the fact that a part of her felt like she had to have been half-asleep still.
The first thing to do was to talk to Regina. They had both been worried about this, both known that it had been a possibility, but held onto a little bit of hope as long as Henry's things were still there. Heading across the hallway to Regina's room, Emma took in a sharp breath and knocked.
--
Getting out of the mansion seemed like the only thing to do after talking to Regina. The last place she wanted to be was her own room, so foreign now that the tiny living space it had grown into thanks to Henry's presence had now cut itself nearly in half, as though he'd never been there. All Lucky had been able to do was circle the room and occasionally stop to paw at the spot where Henry's bedroom door had been, more than indication enough that they both needed to get out. Grabbing her jacket and Lucky's leash, she headed out to the grounds.
Anyone who might encounter her early in the day will find her either in the garden or out near the chessboard hills with Lucky in tow. Lunchtime will find her back inside and in the kitchen, rather than the diner -- it doesn't feel right to go without Henry. During the afternoon, she'll make her way to the beach, allowing Lucky to run up and down its length as he sees fit before settling herself on the end of the dock, apparently lost in thought, though she'll absently pet Lucky whenever he happens to trot over and lay his head in her lap.
Where: The eighth floor, then out on the grounds.
When: 4/7, all day.
Rating: PG
Summary: Emma realizes that Henry's disappearance is permanent.
The Story:
It wasn't unusual for Lucky to try and drag Emma out of bed before she was ready. The only thing that made today any different was that no matter how many times she tried to swat him away and insisted he let her sleep, he continued to press his nose against her feed, relocating to do the same with her face when his first attempts didn't get results. It was the whining that broke her, and she sighed heavily as she grudgingly pushed the covers aside, forcing herself to her feet despite the desire to stay in bed a little longer and try to hold onto those first few minutes of waking where she didn't quite remember that Henry was missing.
"Alright, alright. I'm up. Come on, let's get you some breakfast."
The dalmatian raced ahead of her to reach the bedroom door first, pawing at it until Emma pulled it open with every intention of heading into the small living space that was smushed between her room and Henry's -- but stopped short two steps in.
The door opposite of her bedroom was gone, nothing but smooth, blank wall and a single mirror in its place. A quick look around the room was enough to confirm what she had already begun to suspect, and her heart dropped into her stomach. There was no trace of Henry there in that room. None of his books, none of his clothes, none of the things were where she had left them. Even his backpack was missing from its place beside their couch.
Nothing. There was nothing left of him. He was gone. Back in New York, back having the life he should have had, but without her.
It was the last part that hurt so badly.
For a moment she felt numb. Lucky went and parked himself in front of the mirror that had replaced Henry's door while Emma slowly forced herself to swallow down the sick feeling that had begun to rise, fumbling her way through the next ten minutes or so but somehow coming out the other end fully dressed and mostly presentable, despite the fact that a part of her felt like she had to have been half-asleep still.
The first thing to do was to talk to Regina. They had both been worried about this, both known that it had been a possibility, but held onto a little bit of hope as long as Henry's things were still there. Heading across the hallway to Regina's room, Emma took in a sharp breath and knocked.
--
Getting out of the mansion seemed like the only thing to do after talking to Regina. The last place she wanted to be was her own room, so foreign now that the tiny living space it had grown into thanks to Henry's presence had now cut itself nearly in half, as though he'd never been there. All Lucky had been able to do was circle the room and occasionally stop to paw at the spot where Henry's bedroom door had been, more than indication enough that they both needed to get out. Grabbing her jacket and Lucky's leash, she headed out to the grounds.
Anyone who might encounter her early in the day will find her either in the garden or out near the chessboard hills with Lucky in tow. Lunchtime will find her back inside and in the kitchen, rather than the diner -- it doesn't feel right to go without Henry. During the afternoon, she'll make her way to the beach, allowing Lucky to run up and down its length as he sees fit before settling herself on the end of the dock, apparently lost in thought, though she'll absently pet Lucky whenever he happens to trot over and lay his head in her lap.
no subject
But sadness was about the same across the board, wasn't it? He didn't have to have a bird's eye view of Emma's life to know what having a rough time without the person you wanted was like.
In true Winchester family fashion, when Adam reaches into his jacket for something, what he pulls out is a flash half-full of Tennessee whiskey. Sometimes what got Adam started in the morning wasn't just the sound of birds chirping and a hearty breakfast. "I've got nothing for the dog, but I could start you off."
no subject
"Think Lucky'll be fine. He's not much of a day drinker, anyway." The dog looked up from where he had been nosing around at the ground and barked once as if to agree with her.
"You telling me there's nobody here you care about, kid?"
no subject
And yet, it was true. He'd been a good little Eagle Scout once. Always prepared.
"Next time," he said with a more full smile for the dog. "A bacon treat or two will do you, huh?" Adam was starting to get the idea now that her dog probably had more than a little something to do with her son. Taking care of the Dalmatian and not Henry had to be a difficult thing to do, maybe in a way a family pet was a good way of holding onto family in Wonderland.
He could see she had enough to deal with, so he was extra diligent in not letting the effect of her question bloom in his expression like a bad bruise. Still, his small smile froze, stuck there like a habit, not unlike a nervous tic.
"Not in Wonderland, no," he answered. "Was it just Henry here, or you got some people...?"
no subject
"I've got people who'd like me to care about them." Didn't that sound spoiler. "And someone I care about who doesn't remember who I am. ... it's complicated."
Mary Margaret still cared, of course. They were still friends, still important to one another--
But she wasn't Emma's mother. Not now.
no subject
In a way, he didn't have to worry. He knew exactly where his loved ones were, where he stood... and that the family he had left in Wonderland weren't going to have his back. The lines were clear. He didn't have to wonder, or fight, or grieve, because that was all over. He didn't have family left alive to cry over.
Not like Emma.
In the face of her admission, Adam envied her... and at the same time he didn't, he felt sympathy instead. She had people around her and a life, and that meant all those struggles and complications that went with them. He bit his lip before hazarding a reply. "That sounds complicated. Sorry. I've noticed Wonderland's good at giving you the exact opposite of what you want."
Like in Emma's case, a person she didn't care for and another who didn't care about her as strongly as she did toward them. In Adam's case, it was the Winchesters. Bad luck all around.
He could hope that somewhere in all of that there was a shoulder for Emma. A familiar one, not just a stranger's.