Writing Challenge: Breaking Point, Chapter Six (6/12)

Title: Breaking Point
Summary: Emma leaving town was out of the question, and that was perfectly fine with Regina. As a matter of fact, Emma absolutely must stay in Storybrooke for a long, long time. And she knew just how to accomplish that.
Spoilers: Up through 1x19, "The Return."
Characters: Mostly Emma, Regina, and Mary Margaret, with special appearances by Henry, August, Archie, David, and Dr. Whale along the way.
Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for language.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox. Please don't sue me! You won't get much.
Author's Note: One of the things I really love about the Emma/Mary Margaret dynamic is that Emma's so closed off, but Mary Margaret instinctively knows what she has to do in order to reach her. I've tried to inject that in this chapter, with Mary Margaret wanting desperately to do something but knowing she has to do it Emma's way. Also, Regina is still ridiculously fun to write.

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Mary Margaret Blanchard stood in front the door to Emma’s room, trying to shore up the courage to enter.

Dr. Whale had given her the short version of Emma’s nightmare-fueled fight with the nurses, and he’d said that according to Dr. Hopper’s notes, she’d opened up very little with him that morning. Neither of those things sounded at all promising. When Mary Margaret asked if he thought Emma would be let out when her seventy-two hours were up, Whale had been noncommittal.

She certainly appreciated the update, but the conversation had left her somewhat afraid of what kind of shape Emma would be in when she walked into that room. Would she still be ranting and raving about Regina being a killer? Or would she be silent like the previous afternoon, where no amount of prodding and pleading could get her to speak?

There was only one way to find out. She took a deep breath to prepare herself and stepped into the room.

She found Emma curled up on her side, deep in a troubled sleep. At some point, she’d kicked the blanket to the floor. Mary Margaret’s eyes immediately went to the red marks around Emma’s wrists. She frowned. What the …

It wasn’t until she spied the matching abrasions on her ankles that it made sense. From fighting against the restraints. “Oh, Emma,” she whispered. With a soft sigh, she picked up the blanket, shook it out, and spread it over Emma before sinking down in the visitor’s chair.

Despite Emma’s restlessness, Mary Margaret decided to let her sleep. She pulled out her book but only made it through a couple of pages before Emma’s agitation grew. Mary Margaret leaned forward to wake her but then hesitated. What if attempting to wake her only frightened her further?

When Emma whimpered again, louder this time, she decided to chance it. She shook her roommate’s shoulder and called her name, quiet at first but then louder to cut through the nightmare.

Emma woke with a start, and her gaze almost immediately locked on her roommate. Her muscles visibly relaxed once she realized that she had only been dreaming. “Thanks,” she said groggily, pushing herself up into a sitting position

“You’re welcome,” Mary Margaret smiled. She was about to ask if Emma wanted to talk about the nightmare, but the look on her roommate’s face stopped her. She was clearly not up to discussing the dream; she looked more like she wanted to forget it ever happened.

Instead, Mary Margaret sat back in the chair and gave Emma time to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and get herself situated. Once Emma had raised the head of the bed so she could sit comfortably, Mary Margaret asked, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap,” Emma answered. Then she gave Mary Margaret a half-smile to let her know she was at least somewhat joking.

“It’s only a couple more days,” Mary Margaret assured her. Emma nodded and averted her gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with the sympathy.

Taking her cues from Emma’s body language, Mary Margaret shifted the topic of conversation. “Listen, August and Henry have been asking for you--”

“Oh, God, Henry,” Emma groaned, leaning her head back against the bed. “I can’t even imagine what that bitch has been telling him about all this.”

Mary Margaret winced at the venom in Emma’s voice but since her roommate was, for one, actually speaking and, for another, not insisting that Regina was a killer, she figured she should let it go without comment. “I don’t think it matters what she’s told him, Emma. He wants to see you. August, too.”

Emma shook her head, panic on her face. “August can come, but Henry … I-I don’t want him to see me like this. But don’t tell him that! Not in those words, but--”

“I’ll think of something to tell him.”

“Thank you.”

The two of them fell into a mildly awkward silence. Mary Margaret had about a zillion and one questions but she didn’t know how amenable Emma would be to answering them. Not to mention that poor Emma looked so uncomfortable in her own skin that Mary Margaret didn’t have the heart to press her on anything.

“Mary Margaret, I’m sorry.”

An apology was the last thing she’d expected, nor did she think the situation warranted one. She looked at her roommate a confused frown. “For what?”

Emma arched a brow. “For what? Maybe because you’re sitting here in a room on a psych unit with me right now. Or maybe for the fact that I just asked you to lie to one of your students.”

“It’s just a tiny lie,” Mary Margaret teased, keeping her tone lighthearted.

Emma gave her a sad smile. “Maybe for scaring you. And for making you worry.”

Mary Margaret shook her head and reached out to take Emma’s hand. “Don’t worry about any of that, Emma. An apology is not at all necessary. All I need for you to do is focus on getting better so that you can get out of here.” She gave Emma’s hand a squeeze and then let go. Then she took a deep breath in, preparation for the chance she was about to take. What she was going to say had the potential to shut Emma down, but she needed her to hear it. “I miss you at home.”

Tears pricked in Emma’s eyes at her roommate’s admission. “I …” She cleared her throat to dislodge the lump that had suddenly risen and started again. “I miss you, too.”

Just then, one of the floor nurses stepped into the room to tell Mary Margaret that her fifteen minutes were almost up. Mary Margaret thanked her and turned back to Emma. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

Emma’s voice was quiet as she said, “Yes, please.”

“Sure thing.” She rose and again grasped Emma’s hand, this time as a goodbye. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Emma squeezed her hand before letting go. “See you.”

Mary Margaret gave her a smile and left the room, looking back over her shoulder only once. Emma had turned away from the door and was now staring out the window, swiping at her eyes. Mary Margaret’s heart ached as it hit her that Emma was crying.

Emma didn’t cry. Emma never cried.

Out in the hallway, she allowed the tension and concern she’d been holding back for Emma’s sake to show. Emma had sounded a lot more like herself compared to the previous day, but there was an air of hopelessness radiating from her that Mary Margaret didn’t like at all. Plus, she still had no real idea what had happened in the first place.

No wonder Emma’s having nightmares, she thought. This whole situation was one giant waking nightmare.

-----

Regina Mills sat back in her home office chair, a displeased frown turning down the corners of her mouth. To say that she didn’t like the latest report she had gotten from her source at the hospital would have been a severe understatement. Apparently Emma had started to open up in her second session with Archie Hopper that afternoon, and the therapist had written in his notes that she was “making progress.”

Emma Swan was not supposed to be making progress. Emma Swan was supposed to be digging herself into a hole so deep that she would never be able to climb out.

At least it didn’t sound as if she’d yet learned how to play the system. From what she gathered, Emma was going through some pretty real emotional turmoil, which, by the way, Regina didn’t hate hearing. It just seemed as if she was … learning to deal with it.

That was not at all what Regina had had in mind when she came up with this little scheme. She’d wanted Emma locked up for good. However, if things continued the way they were, it sounded as if she might be let out after the seventy-two hours after all.

Regina needed to do something, but what?

She could argue the point. Say that since Emma had erupted “so suddenly,” letting her back out onto the street after a mere three days wouldn’t be prudent. The only issue she could see with that was depending on just how much she’d have to argue, she ran the risk of having it appear personal. It was personal, of course, but she couldn’t have it look that way.

Another option was to just let it play out. Sit back and watch what happened when Emma was released and tried to return to her life in Storybrooke. Considering how the townspeople had shunned Mary Margaret when news of the affair broke, Emma probably wouldn’t get off any easier in the court of public opinion.

But even then, that was only probably. No one could predict how people would react to something until they did, and she didn’t want to take the chance of Emma simply being forgiven for her crime.

No, she needed something better. Something she could control, something that would put this plan back on track.

Wait. Control.

That was it.

She rose and quietly climbed the stairs. A peek in on Henry proved that he was sound asleep. If she hurried, he would never even miss her.

After a swift walk through the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, she climbed into her car and took off for the hospital.

This time of night, the hospital employed a skeleton crew, and most, if not all, of the visitors had gone home. The hallways were deserted when Regina stepped through the entrance, but even still, she figured she’d better take the stairs.

She emerged from the stairwell on the official psych floor. It wasn’t locked down, considering the most serious of patients were housed on the unofficial psych floor in the bowels of the hospital. The doors to the rooms on this floor were kept locked at night, however, and for that she’d come prepared. The lock to Emma’s room would be no match for the little skeleton key in her pocket.

Emma’s room was conveniently located mere paces from the stairwell. She unlocked the door and tucked the key back into her pocket. Then she slipped into the room and, after turning the knob in her hand to make sure it had remained unlocked, eased the door closed.

Regina could tell before she’d even made it past the privacy curtain that Emma was smack in the middle of a nightmare. She could hear her alternately muttering under her breath and whimpering. A smile played across her lips at Emma’s suffering.

Her first order of business was to check her chart to make sure she’d been given a sedative. Of course, she had. Dr. Whale had written that since the patient had refused to sleep, he had ordered the dose to calm her.

Again, sometimes Emma made things entirely too easy.

Regina set the chart back into its rack and crept over to the side of Emma’s bed. She took a moment to delight in watching Emma squirm against the images her subconscious was throwing at her before leaning down, her mouth inches away from Emma’s ear. Then she began whispering.

“How could you have let Graham die?”

She paused. No, that one didn’t have quite enough punch. After taking a few seconds to think, she came up with a better idea.

“You’re going to have everything you love ripped from you, just like everyone else in Storybrooke. Not that it matters, because no one loves you. They may mean something to you, but you mean nothing to them.”

Emma’s sleep became more restless as the suggestions transformed her dreams, tailoring them to Regina’s whims. Emma tossed and turned, sometimes crying out. In her dream, it was probably a scream of anguish, but it reality, it was barely above a whimper. Regina grinned, waited until she calmed a bit, and leaned down again.

“You can’t save anyone. Henry will see that soon enough and then he’ll turn on you, too. After all, he doesn’t really care about you; he’s just hanging around with you because he thinks you’re the one who can break the curse.”

Emma moaned again, her eyelids fluttering and then snapping open. When she spotted Regina, her eyes widened in a combination of fear and anger. She tried to call out but, just like Regina counted on, the sedative was already working against her. Her eyelids fluttered a few times as she struggled to remain conscious and then stayed closed.

When Emma slipped back into dream-filled sleep, Regina knew her work was done. Without looking back, she crept out of Emma’s room, locked the door with her key, and slipped, unseen, back into the stairwell.