It was the call no husband wanted to get at an hour no calls should come. Four in the morning and his cell had gone off. Set on vibrate, the incessant amount of rings had sent the phone to the floor. Groggy, he picked up the mobile and held it to his ear; the sheet sliding away from his bare torso. "Hello?" Neal rasped.
"Neal, get to the hospital. It's Emma," came the reply. Mary Margaret let out a sob in-between each word that shuddered from her lips. "Hurry."
His heart stopped as a sinking feeling erupted in his stomach. Neal let out a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself. He might not have been awake before, but he was sure awake now! "I'll be right there," the man told her as he hung up his cell. Throwing the blankets aside, Neal pulled jeans on over his boxers and then tugged on the sweater he wore the day before. Forgetting his shoes, Neal hurried from the bedroom and down the stairs.
"Neal? Is everything all right?" Belle called as she looked up from her reading. "You look like you've seen a ghost." She set Jane Eyre aside and getting up, went over to him.
"Emma...hospital. I gotta go," he stammered to his 'stepmom'. "Where are my keys?" He patted his pockets until Belle held them up; they had been sitting on the table by the door.
"Do you want me to drive you?" she asked. When Neal shook his head no she sighed, handed him the keys, and hugged the man with a tender touch. "Be careful. No wrecks, okay?"
"No wrecks," Neal promised. "Watch over my papa okay? He can't do anything with his leg in the cast.
Belle smiled and patted Neal on the arm. "Get some shoes on and go," she instructed. "Call me. Let me know."
"I will," he agreed. Bending down, he grabbed his boots and put them on. With boots barely laced, Neal hurried to his truck and hopped in.
"What happened?" Neal demanded when he got to the hospital five minutes later. His brow was furrowed. He was shaking. Neal was scared and he didn't like it.
Snow rubbed her arms as she looked around the hospital. "She was cooking dinner and just collapsed. One minute, Emma was fine, the next minute..." Mary Margaret choked out. "I don't want to lose my baby."
"I know," he whispered as he pulled Snow White close and hugged her. "I know. Me either..." Neal rested his head on Mary Margaret's shoulder and breathed in her scent. Tears wanted to fall, but he wouldn't let him.
His mother-in-law was he first to break contact. "It all happened so fast. And there was so much blood. I don't know why. But she was bleeding and cramping. I called 911," Snow explained as she sat down in a waiting room chair.
"I should have been there. She's been doing too much," Neal whispered. He took a seat beside Mary Margaret and hung his head out of shame. This should not be happening. Emma shouldn't be in the hospital now and she shouldn't have to be fighting for her life!
"Oh, Neal, it's not your fault," she cooed while robbing his back. "Gold needed you. So did Belle. There's only so much one person can do for a bedridden man in a cast. You did the right thing. Emma wanted you there. She knew how important it was."
Before Neal could answer, the doctor came out. She was a short, stocky woman with dark hair pulled into a frumpy ponytail. The scrubs she wore had blood flecks on it. "I take it you're the father?" she said.
"How is she?" Neal asked as he stood. "How is my daughter?" If possible, the man's eyebrows raised even higher all the while his mouth turned down in a pensive frown.
The doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry. Emma didn't make it," she told Mary Margaret and Neal. "There was too much blood loss. The baby is in the NICU, but she should be fine."
Snow screamed. It was a heart broken, blood curdling sound. Her head went back as she sobbed, "No. No. No! My baby," Mary Margaret wailed.
Neal wasn't crying. He was numb. He couldn't believe the news. His wife was dead. "May I see her? May I see Emma?" The man asked. When the doctor nodded and headed towards a set of double doors, he followed her.
In the room, Emma lay surrounded by soiled clothes and bags of used blood. Her sheet and gown were streaked red. The monitors hummed, but made no other sound. It was a surreal moment. This nightmare was one that Neal did not want to face.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," the doctor told Neal, but he didn't answer her.
Tentatively, he went over to the bed. "I hate you! I hate you. Why did you leave me, Emma? Why? I can't do this alone. I need you. We're a team. We gotta watch our backs like always," Neal screamed. "I need you and I love you and I hate you. Come back to me. Please, come back. I don't think I can do it. What about Henry? What about...what about Lucy? They need their mother. I need my wife. Come back Emma. Come back."
Of course, she wasn't going to come back. Neal knew it too. Defeated and heartbroken, he collapsed over her body and held the still form in his arms. With eyes closed tight, he rocked Emma all the while breathing in her smell; Neal didn't want to forget it. He didn't want to forget anything.
The widow only let go of Emma's body when he heard the doctor clear her throat. "Come. They need to take care of her body," she said. "Besides, I have someone for you to meet."
Just then, a baby cried. Neal, who hadn't torn his gaze from Emma's frame, looked up. In the doctor's arms was his daughter with a feeding tube in her nose. It was his daughter. "She's beautiful," the father said.
"Yes. And strong," agreed the woman. "I need to get her back to her incubator. She needed changed, so I thought..."
"You thought right," Neal replied, knowing what she was implying. He bent down and kissed Emma on the lips and then he caressed her cold cheek. "I love you."