In The Depths Of Her Soul

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"How often are the nightmares coming now?"

She slides her hands beneath her thighs to control the trembling digits from the reservation she possesses about the topic. She leans forward nervously and her boots dance across the hardwood floors that clearly express how uncomfortable she truly is. There's a rather large lump forming in the back of her throat, a boulder that she swore would have seen its last day now that Jack is completely out of her life. So, she swallows thickly and clears away the harsh anxiety clawing its way up her throat.

"It's been better," she replies, but her frantic green eyes refuse to meet the man who is watching her intently, reading her every gesture and facial expression like an open book.

"Emma, you've been coming here long enough to know that is not a substantial answer," he scolds, but there's a hint of teasing lacing his voice that eases her troubles.

The action maybe small, but the man still has a sense of humor to help settle the anxiety festering inside. This is something she has learned about the redhead over the past couple of months and it's one of the reasons why she is still seeing him.

She breathes out her apprehension on the subject, forcing out all of those taunting thoughts that plague her mind like a broken record. She peeks through her thick lashes to read his expression. He's waiting patiently with a small, yet, encouraging smile that's like a bright lantern in a dark forest to help guide her way. She smiles in return and feels all that awful tension torturing her muscles, slip away.

"When you first arrived the nightmares were occurring every night," he states so matter of fact, to prompt her next reply.

"Yes, I would say they are once a week now," she murmurs mostly to herself and casts her eyes down to her dancing feet, in fear that her answer isn't good enough. She really thought she would be further along in her healing process by now.

"Emma," he speaks softly to coax her anxious gaze to meet his and she quickly obliges his silent request. When her wet eyes meet his, he offers another kind smile to reassure her. "Once a week is wonderful to hear. That's progress," he claims, but she shrugs one shoulder, not sure what to say next. She supposes he's right, she is moving forward and at least she's not standing still or falling backwards. "You have to remember, Emma, Jack planted those negative thoughts in your mind when you were at your most vulnerable state."

"I know," she sighs, and those damn nerves are back to consume her body once again.

This is always something that irritates her to her very core, because she didn't even notice what Jack was doing at the time. She was so wrapped up in her grief for Killian, she never acknowledged what Jack was saying to break her confidence. The way he spoke and twisted his words was a fine line between charming and sickening. But now she sees everything so clearly for what it truly was.

"It will take some time, but soon you won't even hear those discouraging words anymore. Have you thought about my offer with Henry?"

"I have...but I just don't think it's necessary as of right now. He honestly seems happier than I have ever seen him, and I know it has everything to do with Evie and Regina. He loves spending time with them. Every once and awhile he will ask about Jack, but I explain that he was sick, and he needed to get help. He never pushes on the subject and I think it's because he has all these people in his life."

"Okay, well if you ever think he needs to talk, I am here."

"Thank you, Dr. Hopper," she exhales slowly and offers the man a sincere smile, releasing her hands from their prison beneath her thighs.

She steals a quick glance at the clock and takes note that she has only five minutes left. She nibbles on the corner of her bottom lip, desperately working up the courage to just ask what she has been dying to ask this man for quite some time now.