Chapter 8: Rest in Peace, Sweet Prince
Emma Swan frowned as she parked her Bug at Dracula's Funeral Parlor.
Seriously. That was the name of the one funeral home in Storybrooke, the funeral home where her son's body was currently residing.
Oh, Henry.
Emma cringed thinking about her son who was lying in a casket inside that shabby little building. This was not how his life was supposed to be. He was too young. Way too young.
And to think for so many years, she tried to do everything in her mind to deny his existence. Well, he no longer existed now. Well, not the boy that she knew. Alive Henry was gone. His spirit had left the building. To where, who knew where. Emma hadn't exactly been raised as being a religious type.
She hadn't even set up the service, Regina did. Apparently, Henry had been raised Catholic. Or at least the funeral mass was going to be held at a Catholic church as per Regina's instructions.
Emma still couldn't believe that Henry's adoptive mother had left town just as much as she couldn't believe Regina was Catholic.
Who did that?
Well, Regina really was always an odd one. Emma had never really been able to figure out that evil brain of hers. Other than the fact that there was a part of that black heart that loved Henry, though Emma wondered how she couldn't be here.
She got that it was a little much, but come on. The kid deserved to be memorialized. Even though Emma hated funerals, she was here and in pantyhose no less. She still wore her leather jacket though, over her black dress. She figured the kid would've been okay with it. And she had to feel somewhat like herself. The pantyhose and boring black dress were really killing her.
She still didn't want to go in there though. The kid's death would feel more real for one thing, and she just didn't like funeral homes. They always smelt like stale potpourri and dead people. God, Emma hated looking at dead bodies.
Just thinking of all of this, made her head feel dizzy. She wanted to throw up. But she had be there, someone had to be there for Henry. Which was why she finally managed to get out of the car. Though, as she stepped out she felt increasingly dizzy and had to lean against the car for a while.
"Emma?"
Her mother.
Snow had been keeping her distance from Emma since her apology a couple of days ago. And David really hadn't been there much either, come to think of it.
Honestly, she was glad. Though it was a bit out of character for her mother. As for David, Emma really didn't have that much to say about her father. He just seemed to be more or less attached to her mother's hip. Or holding a sword and being her unofficial deputy.
She never paid him. She didn't have the authority, and quite honestly there was no need to hire anyone else since most of her police duties consisted of arresting Grumpy for whenever he started belting out the latest billboard hit a little too loudly outside the Rabbit Hole at three in the morning or whatever. Oh, and arresting evil despots like Cora, but that was another story.
But David hadn't been around the police station this week. And she didn't see him here.
Which was why she asked her mother where her father was.
"I told him to stay home." Her mother said.
Emma was shocked. This was so unlike her mother, who was always about family togetherness and that sort of bullshit. She was sure Mary Margret would've dragged David here.
Her mother sighed. "I figured it would be easier if he didn't show."
It was. Though to be honest, she really didn't want to see her mother either. But she had to give her some sort of points for trying to meet her halfway.
Emma looked at her mother; there was something oddly different about her. Maybe it was seeing her mother in funeral attire, she thought. None of them really looked like themselves today. But the makeup and styling seemed a bit more on the severe side today.
She just really wasn't used to Mary Margret in makeup. Specifically wearing red lipstick and fingernail polish.
It just seemed weird.
"So, are you okay?" Mary Margret asked again.
Emma nodded.
"Good, I'll see you inside." She said before walking off.
Honestly, Emma didn't know how to take it. While she was glad that awkwardness was done, it just really didn't seem Mary Margret-y to leave her alone. She's trying, Emma. That's what she told herself.
The funeral home was as creepy as she thought it would be. Especially since it was ran by a vampire prince.
Though, he wasn't a vampire in this world, which Emma was grateful though. Instead, Drake was the creepy mortician/undertaker/anything that has to deal with dead people in Storybrooke who was married to a woman named Bella (no, not Bella Swan—thankfully that world did not exist in the Enchanted Forest neither did a certain God awful Twilight fan fiction turned best seller, thank the lord).
So yes, he was creepy even in the cheap suit he wore and even though he was trying to be overly nice by giving Emma his condolences.
Emma glanced at the guest book before walking into the chapel. It had seemed like the whole town had shown up. She wasn't really surprised. Everyone loved Henry. Or everyone felt like if they didn't go Regina was going to blow them up.
Which Emma wouldn't put it past her, if she were here.
Emma sighed as she sat in the row deemed for family. Her mother was the only one else there. She shook her head at how small said row really was. She wished Henry could've had that big family he always wanted.
Her mind drifted for a moment towards Henry's father. Neal. She wasn't even sure if that was his real name. She had caught the man occasionally not responding to it. But Neal or whatever he was called, she wondered if he had family that could've been here. Maybe his parents were nice and normal. Who knows, maybe he even gave Henry another sibling at this point. Though, Emma doubted he stayed with any girl. Look at what he did to her.
She was still flummoxed at how he just left her there in that hotel room.
She really didn't think she was being conned. Neal had been a great guy for the few months she had been with him. Dare she say it, she felt stability with him until he pulled the rug out from under her leaving her with a huge hotel bill and pregnant.
That dirty mutt.
He really did miss out on a wonderful son. She wondered how he would've been as a father.
God, why was she being stupid thinking of someone who hadn't talked to in over a decade? This day was supposed to be about Henry.
But when thinking about Henry, she inevitably thought about Neal. She had thought about that time Henry asked her about his father and how she outright lied to him. How could she do that?
Because she knew how it felt to be unwanted.
That was something she had never wanted Henry to feel, and yet that is what he felt in the end. Because her mother and Cora.
Emma frowned as she thought about that witch locked up in the jail cell ranting and raving like a lunatic about how she had to save her son.
Lies. Emma was pretty sure. She just wanted out of that cell and would do anything to get out. Regina had warned her as much before she left town.
Man, Regina.
Emma really never cared for Henry's adopted mother, but she was a wreck the last time they talked. And honestly, she was a little worried about Regina being out there alone. Not that she was sure that Regina couldn't care for herself in the real world, it was just that losing a child made dealing with the daily tolls of life so much harder. Like now.
Or that whole day, it seemed like every aspect of that day went by in slow motion. From the viewing to the graveside service, Emma felt like she could and could not remember every aspect of Henry's funeral.
The service was lovely. Regina had made sure of that. Emma had never been to a high funeral mass before, so that was something different. Maybe a little over the top, but in a weird way she thought Henry might've liked it. He would say they were treating him like a knight.
He was more than a knight.
He was her son.
And that was the thing that resonated with her the most throughout all of this, that this was her son's funeral. A kid, she had never wanted.
She pushed him away when he reached out for her too.
Regret was a big feeling she felt that day, when she wasn't feeling numb or like this was a bad nightmare. Sure, people tried to comfort her, but they didn't actually make her feel better.
At least her mother hadn't been smothering. To be honest, her mother hadn't really talked much the entire day. Sure, she sat next to Emma at the service—the mass and then graveside service—but she hadn't talked or tried to do anything touchy feely. She had all but disappeared at the reception, which might've been for the best but was so unlike Mary Margret to just go and be recluse. Even Ruby said something about it.
Grant it, Emma did not care.
Well, a part of her did. Admittedly. Despite every horrible thing that Mary Margret did, she still wanted to…what? Emma wasn't even sure. She didn't hate her mother, but she couldn't exactly forget about what happened to Henry.
And she didn't think she could ever forgive.
Emma had seen plenty of people on TV being able to forgive people for horrible things, and quite frankly Emma didn't know how they did it. She hated the whole you should be a bigger person thing. It was really crap in her opinion. How could you possibly forgive something for doing something so horrible to you? It was something she was trying to grapple day after day, and not succeeding that well at.
Sitting next to Mary Margret all through today hadn't exactly been easy. But at the same time, it hadn't been as painful as she thought it was going to be.
She didn't feel like ripping out her throat. But as much as that should've comforted Emma, it bothered her. She shouldn't be feeling a smidgen of rationality towards Mary Margret. She shouldn't be okay with her coming to Henry's funeral and not even really noticing her presence.
God what was wrong with her?
"Sherriff?"
She turned around to see Grumpy looking at her. She was surprised he wasn't in jail. Then again, he did post bail this morning and all the bars in Storybrooke weren't open until later that evening.
"You're talking to me and you're sober." Emma pointed out.
Grumpy sighed. "I um…I came here to pay my respects and to tell you, that you might want to get back to the jail."
"It's my son's funeral." Emma pointed out. "I think the jail will be fine for the afternoon. There's only one person in those cells, and she doesn't care to indulge in the Quarter Pounders with cheese like you do, so I think we'll be okay."
Grumpy shook his head. "Well, you do have a point…but she's upset. Keeps talking about how she has to break out to save her son and that someone has to help her or she's going to create apocalypse in this town."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Cora doesn't have a son, Grumpy. That's just a diversion."
He sighed. "Well, diversion in might be. But you know, how you lent me the jail key to lock myself up if I happened to get drunk."
"Oh, hell no." Emma said knowing what Grumpy was going to say before he said it.
Grumpy sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I didn't think queens could pickpocket."
Actually, neither did Emma. But it didn't matter now, and besides maybe Grumpy just misplaced the key.
He shook his head when she suggested this. "I actually had a six pack so…I was going to do what you suggest and went back to the office, and well, she and the key were gone."
Emma groaned. However, there was still the slightest chance that Grumpy was so drunk he didn't know what he was talking about. It totally could happen.
Although, in this case her gut was telling her otherwise. She really didn't want to go to the station. It seemed so disrespectful to do it. Today, was suppose to be about Henry, but having the Queen of Hearts running around Storybrooke wasn't exactly ideal either. Or for that matter safe for the town. She knew what Henry would want her to do if he was here, and that's why she ultimately ended up leaving the reception early and heading down to her office still in her funeral heels.
To be fair though, most of the town had already left the service before Emma did. Including her mother, so she really didn't feel that bad.
Or at least she didn't feel that bad until she noticed that not only was Cora out of her cell. But the office Storybrooke police cruiser—aka Graham's old car that Emma never drove because it just brought back painful memories of what could've been—was gone too.