Bittersweet
"So if I go here..." Emma trails off as the map before her begins to swirl and distorts.
"Something wrong?" Jefferson esquires softly as she grips the edges of the piano tighter.
"Uh... I..." She struggles to form coherent words as the room sways.
He moves silently behind her, catching her as she falls backwards. His arms wrap around her waist, easily holding up the petitie blonde. She tilts her head back, a small groan emitting from between her lips. Without meaning to, her lips brush along his stubbled cheek, causing him to let out a soft, shuddering breath.
He tilts his head to the side, breath hot against her ear. "Shh... take it easy. It's okay."
His voice is soothing as he walks backwards slowly, taking her with him.
"Dizzy," she gasps as she clings to his arms around her.
"I know, I know. You're okay. Let's just set you down here," he whispers softly in her ear, his voice lulling her, chasing the panic away.
In her dazed, confused state of being, when he sets her down, she clings to him, letting out a small squeak of fear, pulling him forward slightly. His hands rest on either side of her head, holding his weight up as her hands fist tightly into the material of his shirt. The warmth emitting from her body is enough to be his undoing.
"Emma, you need to let go of me," he breathes gently.
"No..." She groans, eyes struggling to remain open. "There's something... something familiar about you."
He stiffens and swallows past a lump in his throat. "Familiar how?"
She doesn't respond for a second, instead raises a hand to trail down his roughened cheek, the stubble tickling her fingertips. She carresses the sweet curve of his upper lip and he closes his eyes momentarily as a shudder wracks his body.
"I know your face as well as I know my own. As well as I know Henry's. As well as I know my mother and fathers."
His eyes snap open as her hand drops, shock minging within the depts of his eyes. "Mother and father - you remember them?"
She moans softly, shifting beneath him, causing him a slight discomfort.
"Emma? Do you remember them?" He repeats, giving her a soft shake. But it's too later, the drugs have taken their toll, she's out cold.
He sighs heavily. So close. He bends down and presses a soft, chaste kiss to her lips, teasing himself painfully. Bittersweet. It's heart-wrenching pain. She's so close and yet she remembers nothing.
She has forgotten her mother and father, the king and queen. She has forgotten how the evil queen was cast out and how this was her revenge. That none of us would have happy endings. She has forgotten him, Jefferson, the love of her life. She has forgotten it all and it burns within him, makes him more angry.
When she awakens, she'll make a hat. She won't believe him, won't believe the truth, but she'll make it. If he forces her. There's no way to ask Emma something nicely. Once she's skeptical of it, it takes a lot of convincing.
He looks back at her. She looks angelic, sleeping silently. He chews on his lower lip, hard enough to almost make it bleed. With a groan he presses another famished kiss to her willing lips and then violently jerks himself away. No, now's not the time for kissing. No matter how much he wants it. No matter how much he misses it.
He clambers to his feet and makes his way to the draw for duct tape. When Emma awakens, she will make a hat - and she'll make a hat that works.
