Angsty AU Ask Tale, Part 12
Emma looked through her door again, curious as to why the halls were so deserted. Slowly she pushed the door open, cringing when it squeaked. The sound echoed through the building like gunfire, though, she supposed the volume was mostly a paranoid imagination. Was this all too good to be true? She proceeded with caution, clutching her copy of The Princess Bride close. It was the only thing she cared to take from this place.
The only sound was that of her footsteps as she padded through the hall. As she neared the lobby, she looked towards the front of the building longingly. A quick glance around the corner though, and she was reminded of all the things that had happened to her in this place. Fiona had gone to great lengths to keep Emma’s memories fuzzy. Was she doing so to others?
She thought of the man in the room next door who looked right through her but whose humming always cheered her when she was lonely. Or the woman across the hall who was so convinced she could fly with the birds that they had to put bars on her windows. They seemed so sweet, perhaps they were just … clouded… as she had been.
Giving up on her freedom for the time being, she turned the corner and tiptoed down the hall until she reached her neighbor’s room. She slipped inside quietly, not bothering to tell him to be quiet. He never spoke a word, so he was unlikely to call an orderly now.
“Hey David.” She felt a little silly now that she was here. Is this really what her life had come to. Her only friend in this place a man who never spoke a word?
“I’m getting out of here, I don’t know where I’m going but I thought I should tell someone who can keep a secret.” The man said nothing, he never did, but he hummed a little snippet of a melody that made her smile.
“Yeah… well. Good luck to you too.” On impulse she held out her copy of The Princess Bride to him. She got the feeling that he needed it more than she did now. He took it with a smile. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen him smile before.
For a brief moment, she thought that perhaps she could take him with her. The thought was replaced with another. If she rescued him, she’d have to rescue everyone. Not only was she not capable of that, she wasn’t sure Killian would appreciate her bringing the entire hospital to the library. And maybe some of them shouldn’t leave the hospital, despite Fiona’s madness.
Further down the corridor, the lights were low, almost as though that particular area had been long forgotten. The sound of footsteps startled her and she quickly ducked out of sight, daring to peek only when she heard a door at the end of the hall opening and closing.
Once the coast was clear, she slowly crept towards the door. At first, she ducked to keep out of sight at the window, and strained to make out what the muffled voices were saying, but it was like listening through water.
Cautiously, she stood, peeking through the dingy window. Fiona stood in the middle of the room. Emma couldn’t see her face, but she could almost picture that smug grin. The orderlies meant to keep her locked away were standing around a cot against the far wall.
Emma knew this particular form of punishment well. She’d seen it often in her time here. Locked away in isolation, strapped down, and sedated. Only… the man on the cot didn’t seem sedated… just defeated… and familiar. One of the orderlies stepped aside and Emma gasped.
Killian? She tilted her head in confusion as she tried to figure out what was going on. Why was he here? With Fiona, no less? What was she-
Killian’s eyes met hers through the window, but there was no hope, no relief in his gaze. Somehow, she knew he wasn’t asking for rescue. The look in his eyes said something else entirely.
One of the orderly’s knelt to give Killian an injection and she thought he would go to sleep now; Fiona’s promiscuous use of sedatives was well known to Emma. Rather than relaxing his body stiffened as though electrocuted. Her curiosity morphed into horror as his whole body tensed and rippled, pulling against the leather straps until surely they must break or he must. Even through the thick doors she could hear the muffled sound of his cries. The orderlies struggled to hold him still and Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, to stifle her own scream.
His agony seemed to go on and on without abating and they didn’t stop it. They didn’t ask him any questions, don’t speak to him at all; just watched impassively as the seizures racked his body. What do they want from him? Suddenly Fiona turned and Emma ducked instinctively, her face disappearing from the window just in time.
She pressed her back hard to the cold door and waited. For a moment she got the insane urge to just charge into the room. To stop them, to save him. As if she could. But at the last moment she faltered, her hand still tight on the door’s handle. What could she hope to do against Fiona and her thugs? They’d just come for her next. They’d drug her and drag her back to her room and she’d never know what happened to Killian. No one would ever know.
Emma turned, and raced down the hall. She didn’t slow, not even when she realized no one was chasing her. Her first thought was to run to the library, but she quickly changed that plan. Not only was Killian not there, it would be the first place Fiona would look. So, she just ran, unsure of where else to go. Maybe it was better that way. Fiona would be far less likely to find her if she found a random hiding place.
She’d lost track of how long she’d run when she stumbled upon a peaceful looking neighborhood. Exhausted, she didn’t think twice about seeking help from the residents.
It was the beautiful house with the white picket fence that caught her attention first. The gate was left open, almost looking forgotten as it moved with the wind. As she approached the house, she debated closing the gate, opting to leave it open in case she had to run again.
She really hoped she didn’t have to run again.
“Hello?” she called as she knocked on the door. She did her best not to sound panicked. There was no use in frightening the residents. “Is anyone home?”
There was something familiar about the house, though, with no one answering, she had no way of knowing whether or not she recognized the residents. After a couple more knocks, she frowned. None of the other houses looked very inviting, nor did Emma want to stay in the open very long.
Deciding it would be easier to beg forgiveness from the homeowners than to be subjected to Fiona’s tortures, Emma squashed down her reservations and started looking around. At most, she’d hoped to find something to help her pick the lock, but the key she found under the welcome mat was even better.
Upon seeing the interior, her breath caught. Everything about this house screamed hers. She closed and locked the door, then walked around. Her red leather jacket was hanging on a coat rack, her boots placed neatly underneath, as if she’d only been home yesterday. A larger, black pair of boots sat next to hers, and next to those, a pair of sneakers.
That was impossible. She’d never lived here. They’d never lived here.
She wandered through the house as in a dream. Her baby blanket… the only thing she had from her birth parents was draped over the couch in the living room and a small photo frame sat on the coffee table. She smiled when she picked it up, recognizing it as a picture of her and Henry at Granny’s.
She made her way up the stairs and found the master bedroom. Here, she found even more of her things. The closet was filled with her clothes… and black leather.
Hook? She shook her head. Not Hook. Killian.
Killian. Killian. Killian. She repeated the name over and over as if she could force the other from existence if she just tried hard enough. More shoes… more coats… a made bed… She laughed at that. Making the bed was something she’d given up on once she’d escaped the system.
On the nightstand, she found a set of keys that she instantly recognized. She grabbed them, and ran her thumb over the little anchor keychain. Anchor? Wasn’t it supposed to be a swan?
No. She’d gotten rid of that ages ago.
Stuffing the keys in her pocket, she tried not to dwell on the fact that she couldn’t really remember when she’d gotten rid of the keychain turned necklace.
Her head began to ache. Something she blamed on missed doses and returning delusions. She laid down on the bed to rest for a moment, but when she plopped down, her head hit something solid. She grabbed the object from under the pillow, and couldn’t help the tears that formed when she realized what it was.
She opened the book and thumbed through until she found a picture wedged inside, keeping place… matching the pages she’d left off at back at the hospital. The photo looked slightly worn, but there was no mistaking who the people in it were.
It was her… and Killian. They were lying on the grass looking…
Killian loved her. Memories - real memories - invaded her thoughts. How many years, how many moments had she lost? Killian, her sweet, shy, librarian. The man she loved. The man she married. How could she have forgotten him?
Is Killian even still alive? Her stomach knotted. Why? Why would Fiona hurt him? Should she call the police?
No. Who would believe an escaped mental patient anyway? It sounded absurd even in her own mind.
