Writing Challenge: Breaking Point, Chapter Seven (7/12)

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: This is probably the shortest chapter in the story, word-count-wise, and yet it's the one I've spent the most time on in edits (so far). It's such a pivotal chapter that I really felt like it needed the attention. The original version of this, Emma was more emotional rather than angry (actually, my first-draft Emma was a lot more emotional in general, which is something I had to reel in during the editing process) and I ended up adding a lot more inner monologue to the narrative.

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Emma paced the length of the hospital room, arms crossed almost protectively over her chest. “She was in my room last night!” she hollered for the fourth time. Or maybe the fifth; she’d lost count.

Dr. Archie Hopper sat in her visitor’s chair, watching her walk back and forth with a mildly perturbed expression on his usually passive face. He wasn’t sure which version of Emma was better, the medicated one from yesterday morning who wouldn’t talk to him or the irate one right now who wouldn’t shut up. Neither was a picture of stability, but at least this Emma gave him a little bit more with which to work. “How would she get into your room, Emma? The doors are locked at night.”

“Locks don’t mean a damn thing when you’ve got keys that can open any lock,” Emma muttered through gritted teeth. If only she could get out of the damn hospital! She’d be down to City Hall so fast Regina would never see her coming.

“What would she be doing in here?”

The voice startled her. She’d been so lost in her revenge fantasy that she’d forgotten Archie was in the room. “Don’t have a clue, but what difference does it make? She was here. That should be all that matters.”

Archie eyed her. Back and forth. Back and forth. “You know, the nurses said you were having nightmares again last night--”

She whirled on him, anger glittering like ice in her eyes. “Speaking of which, you were supposed to tell them about those.”

“I did,” he explained, “and I told Dr. Whale that you didn’t want the sedation, but you can’t just stay awake forever in order to avoid some nightmares, Emma.”

“I wasn’t trying to avoid the nightmares!” she cried, exasperated. “I was trying to avoid the cycle of a nightmare waking me up and the meds putting me back to sleep just so I could continue it. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”

Archie inhaled deeply and held the breath before letting it out through his nose. Her constant motion was beginning to give him a headache. “Can you stop pacing, please?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Emma grumbled under her breath, but she did as he asked and perched on the edge of the bed. Too worked up to remain completely still, she began rapidly bouncing her right leg on the ball of her foot.

“Thank you. All I was trying to say is that you had a lot of nightmares last night,” he said calmly in an effort to steer the conversation back on track. “Isn’t it possible that Regina being in your room was one of them?”

She adamantly shook her head. “No. I know I was awake. A nightmare woke me up and that’s when I saw her leaning over me. The damn sedative--which I didn’t even want, if you recall--knocked me out before I could do anything about it.”

The look on the therapist’s face made it clear that he didn’t believe her. Both he and Dr. Whale insisted that no one had seen the mayor anywhere near the hospital last night. “You must have dreamed it,” Dr. Whale had told her when she first brought it up with him, and it seemed that Archie was sticking with that theory as well. Emma knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she hadn’t been dreaming, but she couldn’t seem to convince anybody else of that fact.

Another wave of anger washed over her and she found herself idly wondering if this was how Henry had felt all those times she’d made it clear she didn’t believe him about the curse.

Oh God. Henry. Was this how he’d felt? Every time he’d tried to tell her something in any way related to Operation Cobra and she’d just given him a patronizing “Okay, sure, kid” and a pat on the head?

Her shoulders slumped, a lump forming in her throat. Oh, Henry, I’m so sorry.

“Emma?” Archie’s voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. “What just changed?”

She shook her head, unwilling to tell him. Unwilling to admit out loud that she understood how she’d made the kid feel, however inadvertently. Unwilling to tell him that she hated herself for it.

“Emma, we really need to talk about what’s going on.”

Again, she shook her head. Her voice was hard when she said, “I’m done talking.”

Archie waited for a long moment but it soon became clear that Emma was serious. He stood, told her he’d be back a little later, and left her sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in her zooming thoughts.

She forced herself to calm down. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Lather, rinse, repeat. She needed to calm down so she could think.

What the hell had Regina been doing in her room last night? Nothing was missing--not that Emma had a whole lot of personal belongings in the room to begin with--and she hadn’t left anything behind.

But she wouldn’t have, would she? Because something missing or something newly arrived would have been proof positive that someone had been in the room the previous night. It would have proved that Emma wasn’t crazy.

Hold on a second. Crazy …

Oh, holy shit.

From the moment Regina sat down in Emma’s booth at Granny’s two days ago, she’d been doing her damnedest to make Emma look crazy. Why else would she confess to being the Evil Queen? Why else tell her she killed Graham by crushing his heart? Because she knew Emma wouldn’t be able to repeat the details of their conversation without sounding like she was out of her gourd.

And Emma had completely played into it. At every single goddamned turn.

Before she had the time to think she was on her feet, calling for Archie to come back. He had closed the door behind him and when Emma went to open it, the knob wouldn’t turn. What the hell? The doors weren’t supposed to be locked during the day.

She pounded on the door, yelling to be let out, but then stopped mid-holler. This was the kind of thing that Regina wanted. Every time she flipped out like that, it just made her look even more unstable.

Emma unsteadily backed away from the door. Now what? Just bide her time until someone realized her door was locked? That could be hours! But since she was pretty sure no one could hear her unless she yelled, it didn’t look like she had much of a choice.

She plopped down on the bed, faced the window, and tried not to think about how she couldn’t get out of her room at the moment. She’d never had a problem with enclosed spaces, but she had to admit to feeling more than a little claustrophobic right now.

A thought struck her, and it would have been sickly amusing if she weren’t so damn furious. Even in a land with no castles, the evil queen had found a way to lock the princess in a tower.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Emma was even starting to think in fairy-tale vernacular now.

As a distraction, she focused her thoughts on Regina. Specifically, just what she was going to do to get back at her for this whole mess.