The Pain That Haunts Us

Emma had trouble believing that within only one week in Storybrooke she'd bought a house, made friends, and got a job. In one more day, she'd be reporting for duty at the sheriff station, but Emma was nervous about the added responsibility. She wasn't comfortable with the pace of the new changes in her life, no matter how determined she was to keep it together for her boys.

'Roland!' Emma tossed the dishcloth into the kitchen sink. She rushed across the room to take the crayons from his hands.

She sighed at the red and green stick figures lined on the wall, wishing she'd paid more attention to Moseley's quick methods of removing mess from walls or furniture. One week of full-time motherhood had begun developing Emma's confidence about the future, except in those moments when she knew Moseley would have handled something better.

The woman knew her sons and how to raise them more than Emma did. The sadness of that was replaced with frustration, as she shook her head at the sulking four-year-old. She still wasn't sure how to handle his constant forgetfulness of the house rules.

'Crayons are for paper, not walls.' Emma bent to meet his brown eyes and handed the crayons back with a stern look.

The boy wriggled away from her gaze and went to the living room where the paper was stored. Sighing, Emma glanced at the stairs and frowned. Henry had gone upstairs to get some books to read to Roland, but her instincts prompted her to see what was taking him so long. It was too quiet for a house with two small children.

She didn't need to be a mother full-time to know that was just another version of the calm before a storm.

'Henry?'

Emma halted at the top of the staircase when the ten-year-old rushed from her bedroom and headed to his own. She barely caught sight of his tearful face before the door slammed loudly into its frame. Emma headed into her room and looked around for what could have upset him - or why Henry would be in her bedroom at all.

Nothing seemed out of place and it unnerved her.

Their day at sea with Killian and Leroy put the boys in good moods for hours, but it hadn't kept Henry's nightmares at bay that night. All it took was a brief reminder of their past to wipe the smile off a young face.

Emma reached for her phone on the bedside table, tilting her head when her hand touched vacant wood. Hearing Roland call her from downstairs, Emma snatched the phone from the bed and left her room.

She glanced to Henry's door, indecisive.

'Mama!'

Emma huffed and went downstairs. She made the boys sandwiches, but Henry didn't leave his room when she called him. She knocked on his door, peering inside with a peace offering of food and juice. Henry ignored her and continued reading his book.

Emma left him alone until she'd decided enough was enough.

'Boots!' Roland reminded her, accepting the jacket she passed him.

'By the door.' Emma rolled her eyes at the green boots.

Roland was overly fond of them and it wasn't because green was his favourite colour. Those boots were one of the last gifts Moseley had given him before she'd died. Emma doubted her four-year-old realised that's why he was suddenly so attached to them and went into a panic if he couldn't find them. Just like the blanket on his bed that Moseley had knitted for Roland. Or the stack of books on his bedside table that she'd read to him on the nights they'd stayed with Moseley while Emma worked late hours.

Emma and Henry had thrown out or donated most of their painful reminders, but Roland was always the one who held on tighter.

She took her time approaching Henry's bedroom and hoped he'd be willing to talk to her. Stepping into his room, Emma saw the boy sitting at the window seat with a book. She inhaled a breath and straightened her posture to appear more confident than she was.

'Hey, Kid.' Emma offered a smile when he looked up. 'Come on, we're going to the playground.'

'Okay.' Henry slipped down and put the book on his desk.

'Grab your coat,' she reminded.

Henry rolled his eyes at her but did as he was told.

Emma watched him go down to join Roland by the door and second-guessed her worries. Maybe she'd seen it wrong? She was sure he'd been crying when he left her room earlier, but Henry seemed mostly himself again. Was it just the lingering nightmare that upset him instead of something new? Emma was frustrated that she didn't have some sort of motherly magic that just told her what to do and how to approach the situation.

Henry had been upset lots of times before – what had she done then?

'I've just got to make a stop first,' Emma said, directing the boys to her car.

'To see Killian?'

She turned at the growl in Henry's voice when he said the man's name. He buckled his seatbelt beside her and wouldn't meet her eyes. Emma checked Roland's passive face in the rear-view mirror.

'Uh, no.' Emma frowned, starting the engine. 'To see Ruby.'

'Red Riding Hood!' Roland happily declared.

'Yeah.'

'If it's real,' Henry muttered, crossing his arms as he stared out the window.

Emma did not like where this was going or wherever it came from. She kept quiet and had the boys wait in the car when she parked right outside the diner. That was another benefit of a small town.

'Here you go!' Ruby greeted Emma with a brown takeaway bag.

She paid and tried to return the smile, but Emma's mind kept drifting. She compared the way Henry eagerly spent time with Killian on the boat the previous day, to the anger he'd spoken the man's name with as if Killian was someone terrible.

'Emma?' Ruby nudged her hand. 'What's up?'

'Oh, it's...'

Nothing. That's what she was supposed to say – what she was so used to saying. It was nothing; she was fine. Except this time, she was out of her depth.

'Kid stuff. Henry's acting weird.'

'I thought kids were supposed to be weird?' Ruby offered a light joke, though her eyes were sympathetic. She had no parental wisdom to give and was trying to be helpful anyway.

'Yeah.' Emma chuckled, glancing over her shoulder to the car parked outside. 'It's just...He had a nightmare and I don't...' She halted, ducking her head in fear of saying too much.

'I'm not an expert with kids, but...' Ruby glanced to a booth near the back of the diner. 'You could always talk to Archie. Or have Henry talk to him. Maybe he's going through something that's just hard to talk to a mother about?'

Emma looked to Archie, who raised his eyebrows at the attention he received.

She remembered meeting him that first night in town and how much Henry liked Pongo. She knew about his job and where the office was, but Emma struggled with the concept of her son having someone else to confide in. There were a lot of risks, as she didn't know or properly trust Archie with their secrets even if it was his profession to be entrusted with them. But if Henry needed help she wasn't sure how to provide then Emma knew she had to at least try.

Her son's happiness was worth more than all their secrets.

'Emma, right?' Archie smiled as she approached.

'Yeah.' She nodded. 'I uh, I was wondering if you've got a moment?'

'Absolutely.' He nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him.

'I don't have that long.' Emma glanced back to the door. 'I just...I need a bit of advice.'

'I appreciate you taking the first step and reaching out,' Archie said. 'That's something that's often difficult for you, isn't it?'

'You don't know me.' Emma defensively crossed her arms.

'No, I don't.' Archie smiled politely. 'But it's my job to notice people. How can I help you, Emma?'

'It's my son, Henry,' she said. 'He's been having nightmares and now he's acting weird but I don't know if that's related.'

'I see.' He glanced down. 'And how long has Henry been having nightmares?'

Emma wanted to say a week. It wasn't too far from the truth and they'd certainly been more constant since leaving Boston, but she'd be lying.

'A while.' Emma fidgeted, averting her gaze and dropping her arms to her sides. 'Before we moved here, stuff happened. We lost someone.'

'Grief is a terrible and tricky thing,' Archie acknowledged while Emma bit back the urge to scoff at him stating the obvious. 'Especially for a child. What did he say, when you talked to him about what happened?'

Emma stuttered and crossed her arms again. She wanted to leave and just go to the playground like she'd planned. She was surely being judged and Emma hated it. Archie watched her as if he understood things about her sons that she didn't. It was almost as frustrating as the truth his words carried.

Emma considered everything that happened since Henry walked in to see the pool of blood on the floor that day. Richard had slapped him and they'd gone to Moseley – their safe haven. The woman was dead before they got there. Henry may not have seen as much as Emma dealt with, but the red puddle could not be ignored. Roland missed Moseley but Henry barely spoke of it.

Emma had been shouldered with full-time motherhood and still hadn't being doing much mothering at all.

She'd explained to her boys that Moseley was gone. They'd attended the rushed funeral to say goodbye. They left Boston and Emma wanted all of it to be left there completely – so much that she forgot her little boys didn't lock away their emotions like she did. They'd just never talked about it since Boston.

Were their nightmares her fault?

'Then there's the issue,' Archie said in a kind voice when she fell silent, which only irritated Emma more. 'Children don't see the world the same way we do. They don't see death and grief, just that someone they cared about is gone and that affects them. Maybe Henry's confused about how to move on emotionally - how to let go and know it's okay to do that.'

'What do I do?' Emma frowned, trying to reel in her own guilt.

'Find something he relates to; something that's his language. When a child doesn't know how to express complex emotion, he or she will often try to translate it into something else. That's how they communicate,' Archie said. 'If Henry can channel his emotions through a hobby or story that he's very involved with then it can help him deal with his problems. Imagination is critical for a child to learn to grow in a world that's very difficult and complicated. I'm sure you understand how important that is?'

Emma nodded, unable to meet his eyes. She muttered something she hoped was more gratitude than dismissal, and headed back outside.

Getting into the car, she could feel her sons watching her but didn't say a word. There would be time for that. Emma was going to take them to the playground so her sons just be kids for a while longer - kids who played and ran around as if death and grief didn't exist.

She was guilt-ridden and ashamed, but nothing fuelled her actions quite like being pissed. She was mad at everything and herself. Sitting in her car, Emma knew she had to get herself under control.

She glanced at the side mirror and more anger flushed through her at the sight of a justified outlet.

'Wait here,' Emma instructed the boys and stormed out of her car, ignoring the spark of the overhead power lines. Someone really should fix that hazard if it was so dangerous.

She pooled her features and marched up to the woman she'd been meaning to have a conversation with since Friday.

'It takes a special kind of jerk to sabotage a kid's birthday party.' Emma glared at Regina, who halted.

'Excuse me?' Regina's voice had an edge to it from forced politeness.

'Friday. Your daughter was invited too so don't pretend you didn't know.' Emma crossed her arms. 'At least I have the decency not to drag a child into this...Whatever it is you despise me for, but leave my son out of it.'

'Miss Swan, are you alright?' Regina frowned. 'You seem unsettled. Perhaps you should talk to Archie?'

'Or maybe I just need to...' Emma reeled in her comment about punching the woman in the face.

She probably should have waited until she'd cooled down before having this confrontation with the mayor.

'Look, I get that you don't know us, but all Henry wanted was to make friends and have his class come to his birthday party. Not one of those kids did.'

'And you think that's somehow my fault?' Regina's smile was a bit too smug. 'Miss Swan, did it occur to you that we have our own lives here? Maybe you're not familiar with how the real world works, but we have jobs and responsibilities in this town. Two days is hardly sufficient time to re-arrange our entire Friday afternoon just for you.'

'I know you said something to the other parents.' Emma stood her ground. 'You've had a problem with us ever since we came here. Well, guess what, Madam Mayor, we're not going anywhere so you better get used to that.'

Regina's smile faded and her dark eyes fixed on Emma.

It was a stand-off of stubbornness until a thought occurred to Emma that brought a smirk to her face. She wondered how many people had ever opposed Regina before - the woman didn't seem accustomed to being called out.

'You should be careful,' Regina said. 'This is my town. Everything you've begun to build here can just as easily be torn down.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'It means, don't underestimate me, Miss Swan. You have no idea what I am capable of.' Regina's face darkened. 'So I suggest you take your unfounded accusations elsewhere before...Well, this town is bigger than you think. It's entirely possible for bad things to happen here. Think about that.'

Emma let Regina walk away and resisted glaring after her. The outright anger turned to a general sense of hopelessness; the fire of emotions that fuelled her strength and confidence had burnt out. Emma looked to the yellow bug where her sons waited and decided she'd let Regina win that round.

For now.

Emma wasn't sure if the air was getting colder or if it was just her.

Henry scrunched the brown takeaway bag with both hands while Emma wiped sauce from Roland's mouth. The ten-year-old glared at the shadow approaching them. Emma felt a prickle on the back of her neck and knew it was Killian joining them before she'd turned to greet him.

'Hello.' He nodded to her and the boys, offering a strained smile as his eyes focused on Emma.

She bit back the urge to once again tease him about a number of times they seemed to appear where the other was. He'd sought her out and she had a feeling it wasn't going to be a reason that reminded her why she enjoyed his company.

Something was up.

'I don't wanna talk to you,' Henry scowled at the man.

'Go play.' Emma nudged the boys, watching them run to the distance where the playground stood against the backdrop of the blue sky. 'What is it?' she asked Killian.

'Regina.' He frowned. 'I overheard Sydney-'

'Who?'

'The editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror,' Killian said. 'He tends to gloat about his hatchet jobs. Guess who's featured in tomorrow's "big story" about an ex-jailbird who birthed her babe behind bars? Apparently that's the headline.'

'What?' Emma snapped, rubbing her hand over her forehead to remind herself to stay calm.

Henry kept glancing over at them and she had enough to deal with already.

'How did...' She growled in frustration.

'There's more, love,' Killian said sympathetically. 'The town's already throwing around gossip - about you being a former foster child and the suspicious haste you left Boston after a murder.'

'Did you say something to them?' Emma stared at him.

Through the fury, she begged her heart to hang on a moment longer in case he could honestly say he had nothing to do with it. She wanted to test his loyalty and know the person who had seen her at her most vulnerable so far hadn't betrayed that building trust between them.

'Of course not!' Killian's jaw clenched as he lowered his tone, darting a glance to the boys. 'Do you really think I would?'

'No,' Emma said quietly, unable to meet his eyes. 'Maybe it was a mistake coming here. Regina's made it clear we're not welcome.'

'And since when do you care what Regina thinks?' Killian stepped closer with a proximity Emma became acutely aware of. 'Don't let her get to you, love. You're stronger than that.'

'Why do you have such infuriating faith in me?' Emma asked angrily, raising her eyes to bear into his. 'You don't know me! You don't know what I was before Storybrooke.'

'Nor do you know me,' Killian said patiently. 'Yet here we are. Do you think my past is any better? We've all made mistakes we're not proud of, Swan.'

'Some more than others.' Emma frowned.

'Aye.' Killian nodded, looking down.

'I just want the nightmares to stop.' Emma watched her sons chase each other around the wooden playground bear the beach, pretending she wasn't standing so close to Killian. 'I failed them. I didn't want to talk about what happened the day Moseley died. I didn't even consider if they needed to.'

'That's hardly failure, Swan.' Killian's breath was close enough to be felt in the air between them.

'Then what is it?' She snapped, yet kept her voice low enough not to carry to her sons. 'Negligence? Selfishness? Ignorance?'

'Human,' he said, which she scoffed at and moved away. 'You want to carry all the burdens of the world so they don't have to. Then you blame yourself if any of it still slips through. You know you can't protect them from everything but you do you really think that's what they need? Or is it easier for you to believe that so you don't have to feel your own pain?'

'How would you know that?' Emma glared at him.

'Like I said, open book.' He smiled sadly, gesturing at her. 'And you know I'm right.'

'You don't know what I've been through or what I do.'

'I don't,' he admitted. 'But I was once a child. My brother Liam, he...He tried to carry both our burdens so I wouldn't have to carry any of mine. I had to watch him struggle with that every day, thinking if I could just be better like him then the weight on his shoulder's won't be so heavy.'

Emma watched Roland climb onto the platform of the castle, his grin wide and laughter musical. Henry followed, smiling yet not as brightly as he had the night of his birthday party or the previous day at sea. He paused occasionally to glare at Killian, who would quickly look away and scratch behind his ear.

Henry had turned on the man very quickly and Emma still didn't know what had caused her son's sudden behaviour. The only thing out of place in her bedroom was...

'Oh, crap!' Emma gasped, patting herself down until she found her phone. She flipped it open and hurriedly scanned through the recent communications.

'What is it, love?'

'Henry, he...' Emma's gaze fixed on the screen. 'Twelve minutes. Richard had a twelve-minute conversation with Henry this morning.'

'Richard?' Killian growled. 'That bastard who-'

'Yes.' She looked at her son, dread chilling through her veins. 'Twelve minutes – Richard had never even talked to Roland for that long. I have to go.'

'Swan?' Killian reached for her arm but she pulled away. 'Swan!'

Emma rushed to the playground, startling the boys. She mentally thanked Killian for staying back, as she directed them both off the platform and back to the yellow bug.

'Mama?' Roland worried when she paused to gather her thoughts.

Henry stared at her phone, eyes unblinking and face moody. It was all the confirmation Emma needed and she felt sick to her stomach. She'd once again failed to protect her son from the man who should never have been allowed near their lives at all.

With her thoughts and emotions at war, Emma drove them back to the house without a word. She sat them down in the living room and every instinct told her it was time to take Archie's advice.

She needed to find something that was in their language – like a story.

'Mama?'

'It's okay, Roland,' Emma said, returning to the living room to crouch in front of them. 'I know a lot of things have been going on lately and I got a bit carried away. Storybrooke is our home now and a fresh start, but that doesn't mean you have to pretend what happened in Boston wasn't real.'

Henry instantly crossed his arms and tensed. Roland just looked confused and scrunched his expression in effort to understand. The four-year-old didn't need to be there for the conversation, but it could have just as easily been Roland to answer the phone instead of Henry.

Emma wasn't sure where to stay and flipped through the pages of the storybook for inspiration. She landed on a page of Prince Charming and a golden statue. Scanning over the words to remember which part of the story it was, Emma smiled.

'Look at this.' She turned the book around and her boys leaned closer to see. 'This is your grandfather.'

Emma stopped doubting herself about convincing her boys of the story and its connection to the real world. Archie was right – imagination was what they needed. Henry had been so focused and proud when he thought he'd found her parents. Emma didn't care if the curse was real, but hope was. Hope was more important than anything else right now.

'Prince Charming?' Henry looked at her. He'd believed it before but now scepticism formed across his face.

'Yes.' Emma nodded. 'And here he's being what he always has been: a hero. But it's more than that. Do you remember when King George told Snow White to lie? She had to tell Prince Charming that she didn't love him or else Prince George would kill him.'

'So?' Henry frowned, leaning back on the couch.

'So, King George used lies and trickery to make them unhappy because he's unhappy. He was a bitter man who didn't care who he had to hurt to get what he wanted.' Emma turned the pages, showing the wedding between Prince Charming and Snow White. 'True love still won.'

Emma passed the book to Roland to keep him busy. Henry refused to meet her eyes.

'Henry.' She tried to place a hand on his, but he jerked away. 'Richard is a villain like King George. He doesn't have a title or riches; he uses words. He lies and tricks.'

'You're lying!' Henry growled, glaring at her. 'If he lied to us all that time then you'd know. You wouldn't make us stay there if he just lied all the time.'

Emma leaned back, letting herself drop to the floor as crouching became too uncomfortable. Moseley had asked her about her superpower a few times and how Richard got around it. Swallowing, Emma met the angry gaze of her ten-year-old son and knew she'd have to let her mask crack a little bit. She wanted to protect them from everything but she couldn't be completely infallible in their eyes.

They needed to understand.

'My superpower wasn't wrong, Henry. I was.' Emma sighed. 'I wanted to believe Richard so badly that I ignored the signs when he lied. I messed up, Kid. I fell for his tricks too.'

'Not all of them.' Henry squirmed. 'I mean, you were brave all the time. You stopped him. You...'

'Mama's a hero,' Roland said, showing his widest smile with the gap of his missing tooth. 'Like Prince Charming.'

'Why is Richard so mean?' Henry asked quietly, tears forming in his eyes as he fiddled his hands at his lap. 'Why does he hate us?'

'He doesn't know us,' Emma said. 'He never tried to, Henry. He's a very angry man and none of that is our fault. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I should have gotten us out a lot sooner.'

'Why didn't you?' Henry frowned.

'Was it me?'

'No, Roland. No.' Emma stood to scoop Roland into her arms and took his place on the couch beside Henry.

The little boy held to the book while Emma turned him around, though her eyes remained Henry. She caught sight of the golden statue on the page and smiled, once again offering it as an example that made more sense to them.

The storybook spoke their language.

'In every story, especially this one because it's real, there's always a moment when things change,' Emma said. 'A low moment before the hero fights back. When things are so without hope that it's hard to feel brave or know what to do. That's what happened; that's why it took so long.'

'Because...' Henry raised his eyebrows and moved closer to the book. 'Richard's a villain who lied and tricked until you fought back? So...You defeated him?'

'Damn right.' Emma smiled, hiding her relief the story angle was working. 'Now we're in Storybrooke - a place of hope and magic. Anything is possible here.'

'But...They don't know that.' Henry straightened. 'The curse is preventing them from seeing that too - that heroes win and villains lose!'

'Exactly.' Emma nodded. 'We can help them, with Operation Sea-Lion. We'll break the curse and bring back the happy endings. King George tried to take Prince Charming and Snow White's happy ending away. Now the Evil Queen is trying to take them all. We know the truth, Henry. That's how we're going to win. Just like we defeated Richard.'

'You did.' Henry ducked his head. 'I couldn't do anything. I just...' He touched a hand to his cheek, remembering the slap.

'You fought back.' Emma held his hand. 'He slapped you because he lost control and he was angry. Nothing that happened that day was your fault. We're going to talk about these things from now on, okay?'

'Like Moseley?' Henry asked. 'And all the stuff Richard did?'

'Yes.' Emma shuddered. 'All of it. We won, Henry. I know he hurt you but he can't do that anymore. Whatever lies he told you on the phone was just another trick.'

'He...' Henry looked away. 'He said everything was my fault. And any guy will only want you, not me. Not our family. Richard said he learned that the hard way that I'm not worth putting up with and he wasted three years of his life because of us.'

It explained why Henry became hostile towards Killian, another man in their life who Henry believed would only be interested in knowing her. It shed light on a lot of things, but Emma was too busy seething under the surface to count them all. She had Roland leaning back against her chest while her arms wrapped around his middle, and it was probably all that kept her from getting up to express her fury. When she thought Richard couldn't sink lower, he always proved her wrong.

Emma was so mad she forgot how to form words.

'He hurt you too.' Henry's sad eyes looked at her.

'Yeah,' Roland added. 'He's a stupid dragon. We need swords, Mama.'

Emma rested her chin on Roland's shoulder, emotions in such turmoil she couldn't work out what to call them. She'd forced herself to forget, but Richard had hurt her more than Emma wanted to face. She knew it could have been so much worse and that was what she'd always fallen back on; if it could be worse then she must be fine.

'Let's take a break,' she barely managed to speak calmly. 'I'll be right back.'

She snatched the TV remote and turned on some cartoons, slipping Roland back onto the couch with the book.

Offering her boys a smile, Emma turned and hurried up the stairs and shut her bedroom door as quietly as possible. She inhaled a long breath to brace herself for the path her mind was taking.

Emma looked at her wrist - to the yellowed mark of the faded bruise. She'd suppressed a lot of the last three years. She touched her hand to her neck, remembering the time Richard grabbed her so tight she had to wear a scarf afterwards. Emma brushed her fingers over her left cheek, reliving the sting of glass cutting her skin from the cup Richard threw at her that shattered against the wall instead.

There were more moments, each flashing through her mind in recollection of her own pain that she'd endured and denied far too long. It was then Emma finally realised why she'd really stayed with Richard for so long – for three whole years, despite his constant anger and degrading insults tossed her way. He'd gone on about how useless and unwanted she was, and Emma hadn't left him because she'd believed him.

She'd allowed that horrible man to convince her she was nothing special or important, but even then Emma knew she'd never actually been nothing. Not completely. She was trying her best in a world always against her, but that didn't make her useless or unwanted.

She was just...Human.

The acceptances of Killian's words should have strengthened her, but the understanding was drowned in the resurfaced truth of just how miserable she'd really been with Richard. Instead of finding resolve, she crumbled. The weight she carried began to close in on her, as Emma slid down the wall and covered her face with her hands to mute the mounting sobs.

Something inside her just broke, like a dam trying to contain an entire ocean.

She curled into herself and cried until nothing remained – no pain or denial. When Emma pulled herself off the bedroom floor and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, only then did her strength begin to climb over her regret and raw honesty.

Gripping the sink, Emma stared into the reflection of her own reddened eyes and exhaled a long breath. She was broken but Richard hadn't won. She would never give him the satisfaction of tearing her down beyond repair.

With another splash of cooling water to her face, Emma returned to her bedroom and carefully parted the door. She could hear the cartoons playing loudly downstairs and her boys giggling at the characters on the screen.

They were untouched by the rumours and whispers spreading through town and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before the gossip reached them. She couldn't save her boys from everything but Emma had an idea. There is one thing she could do. It was probably stupid and rash, but she needed to take something back. She yearned to prove, at least to the people of Storybrooke, that she was still strong and capable.

They could gossip all they liked and Emma wasn't going to let it change anything.

'Stay here,' Emma instructed the boys, pulling on her blue jacket. 'I need to run a quick errand, okay?'

She trusted them to stay. They'd done it before with the apartment and she was never gone for long.

Finding the building wasn't much effort and Emma was glad for the back gate. Emma looked around for the ideal tool and spotted a red chainsaw inside a small shed. The gardener had even left it unlocked. She supposed, given how emotional she was, it would look rather foreboding for her to have such interest in the tool.

She didn't care.

Emma revved the chainsaw and grinned at the tall apple tree she knew Regina thought highly of. She'd overheard some speech about the fruit of apples and read between the lines; the symbolism was exactly what Emma needed.

With satisfying motions, she steered the rapid blade through a thick branch of the tree and watched it fall. Emma glanced to the window of the office and smirked. Regina's livid face staring down at her in disbelief already made the entire trip worth it.

Though, not as much as seeing the mayor run furiously across the yard while trying to maintain some level of control or dignity.

'What the hell are you doing?' Regina yelled on approach.

'Picking apples,' Emma said, dumping the chainsaw on the grass behind her.

'You're out of your mind.' Regina glared in her face.

'No, you are if you think scandalised newspaper articles and petty town gossip is enough to scare me off. You're going to have to do better than that,' Emma told her smugly, confidence increasing the deeper Regina glared. 'You come after me or my sons again, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree.'

Emma inched closer to the mayor's face, pleased to see her intimidation was working enough that her words held the weight she'd intended. Regina was fuming but didn't rebuttal.

'As much as you try to add dirt to my name, you still don't know anything me.' Emma smirked with the knowledge that this time she held all the power and higher ground. 'Leave my family alone. Because, sister, you have no idea what I am capable of.'

Emma walked away, flushing with regained self-assurance that she was going to be okay. Richard couldn't touch her family anymore, but Emma wasn't going to stop there. With her pending new job as deputy sheriff in mind, Emma knew this time she was ready for the new responsibilities. Storybrooke was their home now and no one was going to take that away. No one was allowed to decide her life or suppress her presence in the town just because they didn't like her being there.

Emma hadn't made it this far to only make it this far.