Emma really didn't know how long it had been. From the moment Jim had arrived home early that morning, she'd tuned out the world. She knew the room filled with light and then got dark, but she couldn't tell you when or how often. At some point she'd called one of the contacts on Jim's phone. She didn't remember everything she'd said...something about one of the higher ups coming by and having killed him. An act of rebellion, trying to take over in his place. The minions would deal with that, she supposed, and someone had come and taken him away. Which she supposed was good. There was only so long she could cling to him, right?
Honestly, she didn't know. And she didn't care.
Once all of that was done, she curled up on the floor in the fetal position and waited. For what, she didn't know. For someone to exact revenge. For Jim himself to come after her for what she'd done. For the world to just stop turning, that might be nice. After such a dizzying pace that time had passed in leading up to that gunshot, everything seemed to just stop.
Logically, she knew she needed to get up. She was filthy from clinging to her boyfriend's wounded body. She needed to get some food in her at some point. Even if she wasn't hungry, she was hurting the baby. And that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. She'd literally given up everything for that child, she couldn't stop yet. But it was just so damn hard. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt, her head hurt, her heart hurt. It wasn't fair.
When she heard footsteps in the hall, she didn't even flinch. Maybe they'd finally come for her. He did have a lot of people in his inner circle. Maybe they'd figured out that it wasn't one of them at all, but her and her accomplice. Fine. She'd take whatever was coming. She had no way to defend herself. She'd been in a tank top and pajama pants when he and Sherlock had agreed to their final showdown and she'd been too busy worrying to think about getting her gun. Then she'd had an injured Jim to contend with, his horrifying idea, the realization of what she had to do, and the understanding that she couldn't do it. So she hadn't gone anywhere near her gun. Now? Whatever. She was no good to anyone. She certainly wouldn't be good for this baby. Why bother?
But then she heard the voice call out her name. Most of his staff (who she'd refused to allow close) and all of his associates called her Miss Swan. This voice called out Emma. And it was a smooth, almost melodic voice. A soothing one.
She should have known.
She still didn't have the energy to answer. By the time she pulled herself into a sitting position, he was entering the door. The world started spinning at the change in position after so long but she simply shook her head more slowly than she usually would have. "No. No, I'm fine." When she was the exact opposite of fine. She was miserable. She was hurt and she was scared and she'd never felt so alone. Coming from the woman who'd grown up almost entirely on her own, that was saying something. But she'd grown used to having someone there for her. She'd become accustomed to having someone love her. And now he was gone.