Summary: Maybe there’s something wrong with him, maybe he has forgotten something as big as a whole town. Except that he has his memories and he knows they’re real, knows that something has changed but it isn’t him. He crawls back into bed and kicks the sheets down to the bottom. Just a dumb dream.
Spoilers: Canon divergence from 3x13, "Witch Hunt"
Notes: This fic is inspired by the following two posts on tumblr:
It's canon divergence from 3x13, "Witch Hunt," so spoilers ahead. Basically, what if Regina had put herself under the sleeping curse and when Emma and Henry go back to Storybrooke, Henry starts visiting the red room in his dreams again even though he still doesn't have his memories back.
“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me”
- “Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Ella Fitzgerald
“He knew the answer was somewhere in his head, somewhere close at hand, but he could not touch it, could not bring it back from the lost places. He sat there, alone and wondering. Was he dreaming?”
- Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
Their first night in Storybrooke, he dreams. Dreams of a red room engulfed in flames, heat that scorches his throat when he yells, and a dark figure in the corner, watching him, coming closer--
He wakes up and he’s in an unfamiliar bed with sheets that are a little scratchy. For a moment, he considers going across the hall and knocking on the door to his mom’s room, but he’s twelve. It was just a dumb dream.
Padding across the room, he opens the window shades and looks out over Storybrooke. He stares at the clock tower, at broken hands stuck at 8:15.
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Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.
“You’re lying to me.”
“Henry, I’m not.”
He stomps his foot and yells, “No, you are! I know what I saw. I’m not crazy!”
She turns away from him, and he wants to scream because he is so tired of secrets and lies. She’s crying, though, and he reaches out to take her hand, to apologize. Except that he can’t touch her. He tries again, and his hand goes through her fingers like she’s not even there.
“I can’t touch you,” he says, and he tries again. And again.
“Henry.” And she’s looking at him with sad eyes, tears falling down her cheeks, and he can’t touch her.
Emma comes to her office eventually. There’s no way around it, not when Emma is still the sheriff because this is just doing her job. That’s all it is. Regina clenches her fingers around the edge of her desk.
“Congratulations,” Emma offers in a quiet voice, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the office carpet. “I knew you would win.”
Regina forces a smile onto her face, a politician’s smile, one that will eat her alive. “Can I help you, Sheriff Swan?”
Emma flinches and holds out a folder. “Just delivering some paperwork. You know where I am if you need me.”
He doesn’t dare get to where he can see the person in the bed, but he can see his mom, the way her shoulders slump and her back curves. He has an urge to run to her, to pull her out of that room, out of this town, to go back home where there aren’t all these questions, to where he doesn’t feel like he’s walking around in a mostly forgotten dream.
Then his mom is standing up and walking in his direction, and he has to hide so she won’t see him; once she rounds the corner, he starts back toward the waiting room. She’ll get there first, but he can just say he went to the bathroom.
But he has to know. He jogs up to the brightly-lit room and looks inside. There’s a woman in the bed, dark hair, pretty. He looks at the name on the door: Regina Mills.
She’ll need to get Henry up in a little while, but for now, Regina flips through the mail from yesterday, placing the things that still arrive for Emma to the side. Emma’s change of address still hasn’t caught hold, it seems. Maybe Henry will be willing to take the mail to Emma. Regina would, but just the thought of seeing Emma—she still doesn’t know if she wants to cry or scream or burn something down.
Maybe all of them. Or nothing at all because Regina is trying still, holding out for the hope that she can forgive, that they can get normal back.
She glances at the coffee pot and heads for the stairs. Another day, and she just needs to breathe through each moment.
Breathe and smile and pretend like nothing is wrong.
Anyway, quick update: last time I was here, I was kind of spiraling out over messing up with a friend. We're good now, she's forgiven me, and I still wince when I think about how I messed up but it's not making me want to hurt myself (and thanks for the support, really, I just couldn't talk about it anymore without throwing up so I just went off the map for a little while).
So, let's see how this goes.
Summary: “I just want Christmas to be like it used to be.”
Spoilers: Up through the Season 5 finale.
Eliot glances up from the apples he is slicing and sighs. “Parker, take that off the tree.”
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Parker’s shoulders lift, and he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him as she keeps draping the sapphire necklace in her hands over the tree branches. It clashes horribly with the red and gold balls Hardison had convinced her to use for the ornaments. But over the past week, she’s been trying to sneak various things she’s stolen onto the tree, and he and Hardison haven’t figured out why yet.
After you realize that David has dreamshade coursing through his veins, only days left to live, you feel something twist in your stomach.
It’s happening again. And maybe it’s not going to be a crushed heart this time, maybe there won’t be any revenge to seek because how do you fight back against a plant, but you feel the crushing terror and helplessness, and you watch him lie to his family and kiss his wife and pretend like he’s not dying with every single breath.
It disgusts you; it makes you want him even more.
Spoilers: Up through the Season 3 mid-season finale.
It starts slowly. You almost don’t notice at first, how much you’re looking at him instead of Emma, but even when you realize, you can’t stop. The man’s an infuriating mix of earnest and self-righteous, and he keeps glaring at you while you only smile in return.( Collapse )