The end of the world with you.

The hunt.

*A/N: image of Emma, Andrea & Jack above*

Somehow, she had managed to doze off after hours of restlessly lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hoping for some provide some comfort or answers that never came. She found herself waking up again just before the sun had began to rise.

The first thing she noticed was the ache in her back. Rolling over onto her side with a grumble, Emma realised that her alarm hadn't gone off. Panic surged as she bolted awake at the thought of being late for work, only to have her eyes land on Regina, who already seemed to be gazing at Emma's blue, and the realisation hit her that there was no job to go to after all.

After some time had passed, Emma found herself gathered in a semi-circle with the rest of the group, discussing plans for the day. The churning in the pits of her stomach intensified as the time to step outside of their safe four walls into the unknown drew nearer, and dread filled her.

"I say we try the cars first, block the street - and then search the houses. We can make our way to the station after," Shane proposed.

Emma shook her head. "No, we'll need the keys for the car. We'll likely find them inside the house if they're not already in the vehicle," she argued. "We'll be better off searching the houses first. If there are no keys, we can search the car once we're done."

"Makes sense," Andrea nodded. "And what if there are zombies inside? How do we not get ourselves killed?"

"The Z's are mostly attracted to noise. We should probably do it quietly." Shane suggested.

They had found learned that lesson the hard way when Andrea's scream drew walkers towards the apartment. They had all piled up against the door to prevent them from entering.

"Alright, let's just make sure we stick together and make as little sound as possible. And let's be quick. In and out." Andrea affirmed.

———-

It hadn't taken the group long to prepare to leave, and Emma nervously descended the creaky stairs with three worn and torn bags in hand that she had managed to dig out from her wardrobe.

"Jeez, girl, do you own anything that doesn't look like it's straight from the thrift store?" Shane insulted with an obnoxious laugh, making Emma clench her fists to suppress her rising anger.

Andrea slapped him on the upper arm. "Shut up, asshole." she said. "Thanks, Em."

"Hey, where's the rich bitch's bag?" Shane asked, shrugging the grubby-looking backpack onto his back and gesturing towards Regina - who narrowed her eyes at him. Emma knew that if her child hadn't been standing nearby, she probably would have retorted back.

"She doesn't need one - she's not coming," Emma replied. Sensing Shane's judgement, she added, "And don't bother arguing with me on that. She's got a kid - and we need someone to keep an eye out anyway."

He didn't reply, but she could feel his furious gaze on the back of her blonde head as she slipped on the black backpack - the same one she had carried with her since she was twelve. It had been the only permanent thing in Emma's life and was always kept hidden under her bed, just in case the need to run ever arose.

"We should get going if we want to make it to the sheriff's station on time," Andrea suggested.

Emma nodded, and looked back at Regina, who stood in the center of the hallway, appearing somewhat uncertain. Henry stood just in front of her, mirroring his mother's unsettled expression.