"Emma, please, go back to bed!"
Mary Margaret pleaded her once more. She couldn't help but to marvellous at how much Emma was like her parents. The defiance she'd certainly taken from Charming, but the stubbornness, well, that Snow had to admit the girl had taken from herself.
"I said I'm fine!" Emma sniffed her nose and tried to suppress the cough that she felt forming in her chest. She was quite the opposite from fine, actually. The cough and nasal voice had been plaguing her the whole week, but only since last night the fever came, bringing with it shivering and headache, which made her stay up most of the night.
That was why her mother was so determined in not letting her go to work. David had gone out early, leaving Emma to her well-deserved sleep but, since she'd woken, there had been a struggle between the two women on whether or not she would leave.
"Emma, you're burning up! I'm actually surprised you're on your feet. Please darling..."
The moment she said the word she knew she would regret it. Emma's eyes filled with a strange mix of sadness and anger.
"Stop treating me like a child!" She all but shouted "It's just a damn cold, ok? It's not the first I've had and I'm alive, am I not? I always took care of myself pretty well, this time is no different!"
She looked up at Snow and saw that the woman was mute; she nodded slowly, turning her face away, but not before Emma got a glimpse of the hurt in her eyes. It was in these little moments, when something about Emma's past escaped from her, that the remains of guilt, sadness and regret always made themselves known; and it was in these tiny and delicate moments that Emma knew it would never be like that again.
She remembered once, when Henry was little and had had a fever. How worried she had been! She knew she was overreacting, but it was her right as a mother. She remembered she had missed work and spent the whole day lying beside him in bed, caressing his hair and singing lullabies until he was asleep once more. And, although these memories were fake, Emma knew in her heart that she'd have done no different, had she got the chance.
So she could understand why her mother was acting this way. She knew Mary Margaret would only be worried about her feeling bad, but Snow… Snow White was far more concerned in making her comfortable so her sick days would be as few and less unpleasant as possible. Besides, Emma had to remind herself, she had never seen her daughter sick before.
She looked again at her mother, Snow's face still lay low.
"I'm sorry... I- I shouldn't have said that." Snow looked at her, eyes full of unshed tears "I'm just... Not used to someone taking care of me."
Snow gave her a sympathetic smile.
"It's alright. I know" she sighed "That doesn't change the fact that I'm your mother and you're sick."
Emma smiled briefly and stepped closer to her. As if to prove Snow's point, a coughing fit chose exactly this moment to make itself known. This was going way too well...
Snow sat Emma on the sofa, gently rubbing her back until it finally ceased.
Her mother then took her hand and led her towards the stairs. Emma did her best to, unsuccessfully, sniffle a groan, making Mary Margaret giggle.
Indeed, she felt awful. She knew the fever must've been rising again, for she was cold; her nose hurt from the constant sneezes and her body longed for a rest, even though she'd waken only a couple hours ago. But, to allow herself to be mothered at her thirties was at least weird.
Snow put her daughter in bed and tucked her in. She left the room only to come back a few moments later with a glass of water, a pill and coughing syrup.
"Really?" She whined.
"Really. Here," she said putting the pill in Emma's hand "first the medicine; and drink all the water, your body needs the fluids."
She waited until her daughter had nearly emptied the glass.
"Good. Now, the syrup."
Emma made a face.
"This is horrible."
"But it will ease your throat and allow you to rest better."
Snow handed her the cap with the pink liquid inside, giving the motherly look when Emma didn't even bore to move and get it.
Sighing a deeply, she held her breath and turned the content into her mouth, swallowing as fast as she could. She wrinkled her face as her taste buds felt the flavour and rapidly drank the last sip of water to wash it away.
She looked at Mary Margaret, who had a pride smile on her lips.
"I'm going to make you something to eat" she stated, heading again to the stairs.
Emma closed her eyes and breathed in deeply or, at least, as deep as she could. She had to admit it felt nice knowing she wasn't alone through her miserable state and it felt even nicer to know, for the first time in her life, how was it to have someone who cared watching over her.