raw panic

What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
—  John Green, Looking for Alaska
What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
—  John Green, Looking for Alaska
What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
—  John Green, Looking for Alaska

The things that shouldnโ€™t have happened.


I canโ€™t seem to remember myself before you. Itโ€™s been so long and yet the gaping hole mocks me as I try filling it up with all my uncertainities.I might be able to write about it someday when the ache from your memories no longer leaves me gasping for air.Youโ€™ve got me questioning my sanity, as I lay hazed by the things that shouldnโ€™t have happenedโ€ฆ

If, one day, you open your mouth
to find a fishhook buried in the
deep-back of your raw throat,
the panic will only overcome you
when you are too afraid to let
your fingers crawl back in. You
cannot bring the thing back to life.
When the tug comes, so does
the particular contortion; what is more
terrifying than the sharp thing’s
station there, is that you never
before noticed it. That is the way
some pain works.
It is quick, and can sit for so long.
It is something to see,
a confrontation like
looking yourself in the mirror
with an old noose
slung over your naked shoulder,
its intention long passed, long
ago given the name “past.”
The eyes looking back at you,
terrified for the thing that once hurt,
carried along like
eyes forced closed by the
standing sun.
—  “Old Hurt, For The New Body.” By Emma Bleker

Well, everyone else was killing me with their baby fics about the spoilers, so I thought I’d give it a go…

~~~~

EMMA!  NO!

He shot forward in his bed, gasping…drenched with sweat ashis heart raced rapidly in his chest.  Heflung his legs over the side, leaning forward as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to settle down.

The nightmares were constant, although it was more than just a nightmare…it was a memory.  Every night since Emma disappeared, after he’d drift off to sleep, he’d relive that horrible moment.  The raw panic in his voice as he called out to her, as he begged her not to leave him as she touched her forehead to his.

I love you.

She had whispered those three words to him before all hell broke loose.  He didn’t even have a chance to say it back, to tell her how much he loved her.  She shoved him away, flung the dagger up high in the air as harsh winds staggered him, flashes of lightening blinded him.  And then she was gone in just a blink of an eye, she was gone and as he watched the dagger drop and clatter to the ground, he felt his heart drop right along with it.

EMMA! NO!

That’s when he usually woke up.  Whether it was Belle shaking him awake after he drifted off in the library or jerking up at the sound of his own cries when he spent a lonely night on the Jolly Roger. And now…in the dark room at Granny’s…the nightmare still left him shaken and he wondered if he’d ever be rid of them.

A soft, warm touch on his bare shoulder startled him as he sucked in a sharp intake of air before letting it out in a long, steady breath.  “Emma,” he murmured as he felt his heart shudder in his chest.

“Killian.”  

She nuzzled up behind him, her bare breasts pressing against his back, her soft lips grazing his shoulder. “Another nightmare?”

He closed his eyes, letting out another sigh of relief as he remembered the nightmare was over.  She was back where she belonged…with him.  “Aye,” he murmured as he tilted his head around to face her.  “Sorry to wake you, love.”

“Don’t.”  She gave him a soft kiss before she lured him back to bed, curling up next to him and rested her cheek against his heart.  “I’m here now, Killian…you brought me back home.”

He pulled her close, relishing on the feel of her in his arms as he kissed the top of her head and breathed her in.  “I love you, Swan.”

Her lips curved against his skin.  “I know,” she said as she linked her fingers with his.  “I love you, too.”

What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
—  Miles Halter, Looking for Alaska
Thoughts

I want the same reaction from Jane towards Maura that we saw towards Angela. The sheer terror, panic, raw emotion of thinking she lost someone she truly loves. I need that same, high- intensity and heart- wrenching pain when she finds that she has lost Maura. I want to see her torn apart. I want to see her break. I want to see the vulnerable Jane- behind the façade- that we know loves Maura deeply. This is the Jane we need to see. This is the Jane that will do anything to get back the one person she loves more than anything.

She can’t sleep and it drives her crazy. Emma fell through the portal two days ago and ever since she hasn’t been able to sleep. When she closes her eyes it feels like fire burning her inside and out. It’s agony and she wakes screaming and flailing. 

Old demons taunt her. Flames prickle her skin. She can feel her breath constricting and raw panic. It feels like a burning room but a hell of a lot worse. She doesn’t sleep. 

No-one notices until one night she falls asleep in the apartment. It’s been so long since she’s slept that she can’t help but succumb to it. Pretty soon she wishes she hadn’t. 

It’s screams that wake him up. Tortured agonising screams that chill him to the bone. Charming leaps out of bed and runs out. He knows it’s not Henry, he has his candle and his pendant - he’s safe. 

What he sees when he runs out is Regina shaking and flailing on the couch, sweat beading on her forehead as she whimpers and screams. He places a hand on her arm and she’s boiling. It burns his skin to touch her and he withdraws with a flinch. 

He acts fast, waking Henry and taking her to the hospital. Henry sits by her bedside with a worried expression as doctors hover over her and eventually sedate her to try and stop the shaking. 

In the end it’s not Whale who gives them the answer but Gold who explain that she has a twisted version of the sleeping curse, one that torments her only while she sleeps and can only be cured with the presence of her true love. Without her true love she cannot rest and it leaves both Charming and Henry feeling helpless. 

Regina wakes after three days of sedation tired, grouchy and terrified. She cannot sleep and fights it every chance she can get. What scares her more is the look of fear in her son’s eyes, not of her but for her. 

Regina fights to stay awake. Charming keeps alert for screams in the night so he can wake her. He has to get up at least three or four times. 

Then Emma and Snow come back. He insists that Regina stay, not wanting her to go through her nightly torment alone. He wonders how long she can last without sleep. He hopes her true love finds her soon. 

Snow is spooned beside him but he’s still alert and waiting except that the scream does not come. He frowns in confusion before walking out to the living room and smiling. 

Emma has fallen asleep, spent and exhausted on the sofa. She’s curled around Regina and finally the queen is sleeping peacefully. 

——–

They all forget for a long time about the curse. Emma and Regina spend every night together and so they all forget about curses and fiery hells that almost killed her once. 

They all forget until one night when it all comes crashing back.

Emma is the new Dark One, vanished and missing. They all return to the apartment after a night of searching and Regina collapses on the couch, emotionally drained and crying for a love she cannot find. 

They all go to their rooms but no-one sleeps. Not for long. It’s around 1am when it starts.

A piercing scream echoes through the air and then Charming remembers a sound he thought he’d never forget, a sound of agony that will stay with him forever. They all forget once but he knows they’ll never forget again. 

She’s hotter than before, fire raging beneath her skin as she screams and fights and flails. He manages to get her to wake, her eyes glazed over and her face pale. 

Just like before he rushes her to the hospital and they look her over. For her own good they have to magically sedate her, keep her in a deeper sort of sleep, a sleep beyond the curse. They say she’ll be okay, that this is the medically safest way but Charming knows they’re wrong.

Even with the ice-packs around her body her temperature is 105. Even sedated he can see pain and fear etched into her features. He can see her shaking and paling. 

Last time he was afraid and now he’s even more terrified, the kind of terror that sends a dull ache through his heart. 

His daughter is missing in the darkness. Regina is without her true love and in agony. As he watches Regina fight on the hospital bed he can’t help but worry and pray that Emma will return to them soon.