OOM: Millways Room 15 with Emma, Take Two

[luvs_yogurt]

It's been a long couple days and frankly Michael's  not ready to go back to Miami. All he can think about is making things right with Emma, fixing the good thing they have as best he can. After stopping at the bar for a much needed beer he fished a napkin out of his pocket and left Emma a note to come find him.

After a long shower, where he manages to wash away as much evidence of the fire as he can - leaving behind only pink skin that could be a sunburn and singed eyebrows to go with his rough throat and aching chest - he puts on a clean t-shirt and boxers, and then curls up with his pillow and blanket for some much needed rest until she (hopefully) comes to see him.

Comments

[luvs_yogurt]

He shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second when the world swims before them. "I'll be fine. And I'm not going anywhere until my head heals a little more."

Michael tries to remain neutral, watching her as she talks with one arm folded casually on the table - propping him up. Emma's not the easiest person to read, but he's getting one thing loud and clear - there's a whole lot more they aren't saying. As usual.

"It's tough to take, good thing he had you there to keep things centered for him."

[notinthebook]

"Better not."

But hell, she's not his babysitter, and if he doesn't want to call her in for backup, she can understand, considering what happened last time and the fact that he's pretty keen to avoid it.

Fortunately, Graham's a lot easier to talk about, even if she doubts they'll ever run into each other.

"Yeah," she laughs into her drink, sarcastic. "Because I'm such a comforting person to have around."

She doesn't have that instinct, not like Mary Margaret, to be compassionate or thoughtful or to show her affection for somebody in any way other than giving them a punch in the shoulder and buying them a drink. "He's pretty unflappable. I think it's got a lot more to do with that."

[luvs_yogurt]

As far as he's concerned, she's comforting... it helps that he gets that they're both broken.

"That helps too, wait until he meets the giant squid or the bunnies... or one of the less savory patrons."

He smiles again, taking another warm sip when he realizes he's lost his train of thought between the buzz of exhaustion and the whiskey.

"I'm sure between you and Mary Margaret he'll find his way."

[notinthebook]

"He's a big boy. I'm sure he'll be just fine."

She spins the tumbler on the table in a slow back-and-forth arc, fingers light against the rim. "But he's the fifth person to show up from home, and it kinda makes me wonder who'll show up next."

It could be nobody, sure, but it could be Regina, which would be bad enough, or it could be Henry.

The thought of Henry here, alone and confused, makes her heart want to leap right out of her chest with panic.

[luvs_yogurt]

He raises an eyebrow, "That does seem high for a small town..."

As far as he knows, he and Sam and at one point Fiona are aware of Milliways in his version of Miami.

"Pretty crazy who the bar seems to attract."

[notinthebook]

"And I only started coming here a couple of weeks ago."

Or something like that. Time seems kind of funny, here, sometimes.

She hesitates for a second, studying the shimmering pool of liquor in her glass like it might hold answers. It doesn't, but if they're gonna be friends, then she wants to be as honest as possible with him. "I get worried that Henry will come in, someday. And then sometimes I wish he would." Now she looks up, not quite sure how he might react to hearing about Henry, but her kid is a part of her life, now. If he wants to know her, he's going to have to hear about these parts, too.

"He'd really love it, you know?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael can't help but smile slightly as he nods. "This place is pretty safe for kids - I've met a few."

It takes a few long moments, but after another shallow swallow he asks; "How old is he?" He's assuming the kid's at least six or seven to be old enough to find his way alone but can't really be older than ten or eleven at Emma's age - which he pins in her late twenties.

[notinthebook]

She nods, too, thinking back on the couple of kids she's met, before a small smile tries its best to lighten her expression. It's unlike any other she's had, full of pride and disbelief and worry and uncertainty all at once.

"Ten. I'd just turned eighteen when I had him."

Eighteen, and in jail, and unable to keep him. Her free hand taps the table in an idle pattern. "I never thought -- I never imagined, not for a second, that I'd ever actually see him again."

[luvs_yogurt]

It takes a moment for Michael to process the new information but he does in stride.

"His father?" It's a simple question that can mean anything she wants to tell him about the situation.

Lord knows at that age he couldn't have been able to deal with that kind of thing. He'd barely made it out of basic training.

Hell, he's pretty sure he'll never be father material.

[notinthebook]

"There was one."

Same as she told Regina. She shrugs, tips her head.

No big deal.

"He doesn't even know Henry exists."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael licks his lips and takes another long drink. He wants to say something about people that shouldn't have kids - but he's pretty sure it'll be taken much more harshly than he intends. Instead, he takes the new information and nods into his drink with a blank expression.

But, he's curious no less; "What's he like?" At ten in 1977 he was already more or less the man of the house, weathering the abuse so his little brother didn't have to and trying to keep his mother safe - he's pretty sure he's got no idea what a typical ten year old in 2007 (or whatever year Emma's in... he's pretty sure it's close enough to his own) is like.

[notinthebook]

She stares at him, ready and feeling on the defensive, and even though no judgment comes, the long drink is almost as damning.

Crap. She shouldn't even care what he might think of her and her decisions and her screwed-up life, but she does, wants him to think well of her even as she's grimly satisfied herself that she's no doubt no longer amazing.

"Trust me, it's better this way," she says, jaw set. "Even if I'd been able to keep Henry, I wouldn't have wanted him around."

He was a mistake. Maybe not the worst she's made in her life -- after all, he did give her Henry -- but right up there.

She relaxes a little at his question, though, fingers still spinning her tumbler slowly against the tabletop, and as she speaks, she can't help slipping into that same new smile.

"He's...kind of incredible. Smart, creative, so sweet. He's thoughtful -- loves to read -- and he's got this crazy imagination..." Her smile widens, briefly, then fades. "But he's kind of messed up, too. Seeing a shrink, and he's only ten."

Her smile's gone entirely now, as she looks up at him, eyes searching for ... what? Approval? She doesn't even know.

"That's why I stayed in Storybrooke. It's why I went up there in the first place."

[luvs_yogurt]

He understands, of course, but there's no way to put through that he doesn't blame her and that he thinks she made the right choice with the limited information he has to go on. It shouldn't matter what he thinks anyway, it was a long time ago and she did what she thought was the right thing.

Michael smiles slowly, at first just an echo of Emma's softened smirk - and then a real, genuine grin. Sounds like the kind of kid he'd get along well with. But when her smile sinks, he hesitates to say anything at all.

After a long moment, he asks; "He was in a bad situation?"

[notinthebook]

If anybody asked her, she'd probably brush it off, but she kind of wishes Michael could meet Henry.

Which freaks her out as much as anything else they haven't said in this particular conversation.

But Henry would love it -- a spy, it's the kind of thing he'd based Operation Cobra on. She'd pay cash money to see Henry peppering Michael with questions, and to see his response, she honestly would.

"I mean, not bad." She glances up at him, all her bravado shrunk away now. If she could see herself in a mirror, she'd straighten her shoulders, push that vulnerability right out of her eyes, and change the topic, but she can't, so she doesn't.

"He's got a big house and plenty of money and food and a good school and everything, but his mom..."

Trailing off again, she swallows, frowns at her glass before looking up at him again, all honesty now. Everything else has been stripped away by worry for her kid.

"I grew up in the system. Bounced from house to house, never stayed with any one family for too long. Nobody wanted me, I guess. So when I knew I couldn't...when I knew I couldn't keep my kid, I gave him up, but I made sure it was to a closed adoption. That he was getting a family." She takes a long breath, lifts her tumbler, but pauses before she can take a sip.

"His mom, though. He calls her evil. And I don't mean in a 'oh man, she grounded me' kind of way. Like a 'he thinks she's capable of murder' kind of way."

[luvs_yogurt]

Another piece of the puzzle falls seamlessly into place and the curious story that is Emma makes a little more sense. Hiding plainly behind his mask, Michael nods easily, taking it all in and filing it away into the big picture.

The situation - now that's very unusual... and much easier to focus on than history.

He nods again and sets down the remainder of his drink before asking simply; "And you disagree?" In his line of work he's learned time and time again that a lot of people are capable of murder that you wouldn't think would be. Doctors, teachers, mothers, and even children... people often surprise you in the worst possible ways. And he's hardly one to ask that question when he's not entirely certain she doesn't think he's capable of murder.

[notinthebook]

"I've found that most people are capable of most things."

She takes a drink, a larger swallow than before, sets the tumbler down again, starts it's slow twirl right back up as she thinks.

"But Regina? Well...remember how I said the mayor framed me when I first got into town, and Mary Margaret bailed me out?" She nods. "That's his mom. The mayor. She's slippery, and I don't like her much -- and the feeling is entirely mutual -- but I don't think she's about to murder anybody."

She pauses for a long moment, struggling slightly with her thoughts. Now that she's started opening up, it's like she can't stop, like that key that got turned when they were lying in bed together hasn't clicked back into place and she'd tell him just about anything.

Which doesn't even make sense, but there it is. Her voice is soft, a little tentative, but honest: he might think she's crazy, or that Henry's crazy, or that they're both laughable, but...he'd said trust me and she does.

"Honestly, I'm more worried that he thinks there's this...curse that's been laid on everyone in the town. He thinks they're all storybook characters. You know: Snow White, Prince Charming. And he thinks his mom is the Evil Queen."

[luvs_yogurt]

His brain takes it one step at a time; a person with power and limited ethics is worth being concerned about... and while she might not be evil, he can understand the boy holding her suspect. Even if she is his adoptive mother.

"I can see why he might need a little therapy," he shrugs, his eyes watching Emma's very carefully as she explained had given him the clear impression that it's something a bit deeper than she's letting on. This is a pretty big issue at home.

He shakes his head slowly; "An imagination can be a good way to escape a stressful situation... if she's the source of his stress it's sensible that she'd be the Evil Queen." A slight smile crosses his lips and he asks; "Do you get to be the Fairy Godmother that's come to rescue him?"

[notinthebook]

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure his shrink thinks sort of the same thing. He's told me not to shatter the delusion, because we've got no idea what that might do to Henry, you know?"

She watches him for a second, eyes wide, hurting inside for the kid, her kid, who'd come to find her when no one else in her life has ever given a damn about where she might be or what she might be doing.

That little smile and the corresponding question get a huff of a wry laugh, and she shakes her head. "I'm not in the book. According to Henry, I'm the one who's supposed to save them all." Her smile turns bitter.

"Bring back the happy endings. I guess he's kind of willfully missing the fact that I couldn't make that happen for either him or me, so I don't know how I'm supposed to be the saviour of a whole town."

[luvs_yogurt]

He can follow the metaphor easily enough, simplified in the mind of a child it would make sense.

"Don't sell yourself short," he shifts in his chair letting his knees brush against hers before reaching out to gently touch her hand; "you haven't really known him that long - maybe you'll surprise both of you with what you can do when you don't have an easier option."

She very well could remove him from the situation, as Michael understands it, and be his savior.

[notinthebook]

She wishes her gut didn't jump and twist at something so simple as his knees brushing against hers, or the touch of his fingers on the back of her hand. She wishes she didn't give a damn, wishes she could get Michael Westen out of her head, but she can't.

Like she told him before, it's too late for that now.

There's a moment where she hesitates, before moving her thumb -- just her thumb, to slip between his thumb and index finger and rest lightly on the back on one knuckle. It's a tiny concession that probably doesn't show any of the lurching, sparking, confused and knotted emotions she's warring with, but it's there, and so is her smile, though that's tiny and wry.

"I might not know him," she admits, "but I know me, and I am no saviour. Half the time I don't even know why I thought it would be better for him if I stuck around, but..." She lets out a long, slow breath.

"I'm in it now, though. Got a job, got a place to stay. Guess I've actually got roots, for once."

[luvs_yogurt]

There's no easy way to make her believe that people change... that she will change - she has changed, even in the step between the goal-oriented lifestyle of a bounty hunter and her choice to stay in Storybrooke and settle down. No easy way to tell her that whether she likes it or not she will survive herself and continue to change.

At least not with feeling the guilty tug at his own conscience for thinking the exact same way she is now. Once a spy, always a spy - I can't change who I am.

"He needs you," Michael replies simply, closing his hand tight over hers for only a moment. "And maybe you need him too."

[notinthebook]

"I'm not used to being needed."

That's what it boils down to, but it's more than that: she's not used to being wanted, which would probably go a pretty fair way in explaining why she'd freaked out in Miami and decided to leave, even when things were going so well, even when there was no evidence at all that they'd crash and burn like she assumed they would.

It's a confession, made in a low, hoarse voice that's almost a whisper, nearly as intimate as the thoughts they'd shared all wrapped up in bed together. Her thumb tightens on his hand, but relaxes when his does. "But I can't afford to screw this up, too."

[luvs_yogurt]

He squeezes her hand even harder, pulling her toward him for an awkward seated embrace - nothing funny, nothing sexual... just the best to comfort he can ever really manage.

"I understand," he nods against her cheek - understand all too well how much it fucks with you to be needed. To have people that count on you specifically. "But I know you can do this, if you're half as good at being a Mom as I think you are you'll be fine."

[notinthebook]

She's not used to being needed, and she's not used to hugs, either, isn't used to people touching her to offer or accept comfort. Henry's the only one that does -- even Mary Margaret pretty much allows Emma a wide range of personal space.

So it's a little surprising to get tugged into a hug now, to hear their chairs scraping over the carpet and feel his arm go around her, his head pressing against hers. It sends a thrill all through her body -- she can smell soap and shampoo and him -- and for a second she tenses, before relaxing into it. It feels good -- he feels good, and for just a moment, she lets her eyes slide shut, breathes, feels her shoulders settle.

"You barely know me," she points out, but she's not really putting up a fight, just says it because she feels like it's expected. She turns her head to look at him, and knows she ought to pull away, because she can't stay this close, and trust herself, but she can't yet, wants the comfort too much.

[luvs_yogurt]

It's a strange sensation, to actually want to touch someone - to want to be close and provide comfort. He's not a machine, but it's been a long time since he felt like he should out of more than obligation. Emma trusts him, and he wants her to know that he does care... and he really does.

For a long moment, he lingers - experiencing her as a whole more than any singular sensation. It's... nice. And when she relaxes against him, he knows that part of it is resignation and part genuine comfort.

His voice drops to a near whisper even though they're utterly alone; "I know you better than anyone else." They're a lot alike, it's the one thing that makes it easier to let go of her after falling so hard. He gets it.