"You look like hell," Emma blurted out, by way of greeting. She was carrying a paper bag, filled with a large container of chicken noodle soup, a loaf of bread, and some gingerale. Setting the bag down on the countertop, she moved closer to Regina, who seemed to be leaning heavily against the wall.
At Emma's assertion, Regina stood a little straighter, tugging her robe closed, and doing her best to seem dignified and well.
"Charming, as always, Ms. Swan," Regina pursed her lips, a slight smirk playing there as she thought of Emma's father, and how apt her little sarcastic remark really was.
Rolling her eyes, Emma reached out to rest a hand lightly on Regina's arm, the concern implicit in the way she approached her, in the gentle touch she felt compelled to exert.
"You should be in bed. So, come on. Lay down, and I'll bring you soup."
Regina seemed willing to follow her, until there was the mention of food in bed, and she stopped suddenly in her tracks, a look of indignation filling her tired eyes.
"I'll eat in the dining room."
"What are you worried about?"
"Food should not be consumed in the bedroom."
"You seem to make an exception for -"
Regina glared at her, the look abruptly ending that train of thought. "I know it's a foreign concept to you, Ms. Swan, but etiquette does, indeed, still exist."
Not missing a beat, Emma replied, "God, you're even grumpier when you're sick." She was unyielding in her insistence that Regina actually allow herself to be pampered in that way that one should be, which meant eating in bed so your body could rest as much as possible. She continued to lead Regina to the bedroom, surprised when the other woman offered no further resistance, as if her verbal protestations were enough to appease the part of her mind that seemed eternally committed to bantering with Emma.
Once Regina was finally settled in bed, Emma placed a tray with a bowl of soup and bread in front of her, along with gingerale, and two pills to help bring her fever down. Stretching out alongside of her, Emma's hands came to rest on her stomach, and she just laid there quietly for a moment.
After Regina had taken a few bites of her soup, she set her spoon down and turned a curious gaze in Emma's direction. "Were you planning to stay there while I eat?"
"Is that a problem?"
Regina was having a difficult time explaining why she was not only so fastidious, but unwaveringly resistant to allowing any help while sick. She was simply not used to having anyone, much less someone seeing her so weak and vulnerable. It was unnerving, and her reaction to those feelings was simply to lash out, rather than examine them and try to process them in a normal, healthy way.
"I'm sure you have things you actually need to be doing," Regina said.
"The only thing I planned to do today was take care of you," Emma insisted, sitting up now.
Pushing away the tray of food, Regina leaned back against the pillows; the urge to cough was rising up through her chest, but even now, she held it back as much as she could, just barely making a sound.
"Your efforts would be better directed elsewhere. Perhaps inward," Regina shot back coldly, eyes raking over the other woman in what appeared to be a disdainful gaze. She really did need to dress better, honestly.
"All right, you know what? I'm not fighting you on this." Normally, Emma wouldn't have backed down in an honest fight, but this was about Regina feeling unwell, and not knowing how the hell to just let herself be taken care of by someone else, someone who actually cared about her. Equally stubborn, however, Emma left her to her own devices for now, leaving the tray of food there as well.
Checking in on things at the station, Emma quickly learned that it was an even quieter day than usual, which unfortunately meant her thoughts were idle, rather than focused on actually doing something. Drifting back to the image of a pale, feverish Regina laying in bed, Emma groaned as she leaned back in her chair, wondering why she cared so damn much. If the woman wanted to try taking care of herself through what was most likely the flu, then so be it. She could be just as miserable as she seemed intent on making Emma.
Except, of course, the thought of Regina being alone through this sent a ripple of guilt and sadness through her. She was alone, like Emma. It was one of the undeniable kinships between them, a connection borne of abject loneliness that drove them in desperation towards a person who could understand how very much one human being needed another.
Henry stopped by after school, and his presence never failed to make Emma smile. Leaning on her elbows, she said, "Hey, kid."
"Emma," he smiled, coming forward to hug her. "Were you taking care of my mom today?"
"I was trying to," she offered.
"She just doesn't know how to let people help her," he tried to explain.
"Yeah, I get that. She made it clear she doesn't want my help."
"She does," Henry insisted, his brown eyes practically begging Emma to be the one person who didn't let Regina push her away, the one person who could break through. "Please. Just come back."
Searching his eyes for a moment, Emma softened, then reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "I'll walk you home."
"And you'll stay?" He asked, hopefully.
"Let's just get there first, I'll figure it out later."
Back at the house, Regina had managed to make a sandwich for Henry, which she'd put in the fridge, with a note saying she loved him, and had gone to bed early. The tray of food with the soup was by the sick, and it seemed to be mostly untouched. Emma shot Henry a look as she sighed, but the plaintive look in his eyes quelled her urge to simply leave.
"All right. I'll check on her."
Satisfied, Henry smiled, taking his sandwich up to his room, and reading his comic books while he ate. Emma knocked on the bedroom door at first, but when there was no response after a few seconds ticked by, she simply walked in, eyes landing on the woman curled into a tight ball in bed.
Taking a deep breath, Emma positioned herself right on the edge, resting a hand on Regina's shoulder.
"How do you feel?"
Groggy, but not asleep, Regina rolled onto her back, looking up at Emma with a doleful expression that cut straight through her heart. "I...don't feel well," she finally admitted, her eyes glassy, the telltale sign of a high fever.
Grabbing three pills of Advil, Emma coaxed Regina into swallowing them, then helped her out of bed.
"We need to get the fever down," she remarked softly. "You want a cold bath, or shower?"
"Neither," Regina mumbled, leaning heavily against Emma as her body suddenly became wracked with chills.
Rolling her eyes, Emma led her into the bathroom nonetheless, getting her out of her pajamas. Trying a different approach, she leaned in, kissing Regina's temple, and whispering close to her ear.
"Bath or shower?"
After a beat, Regina murmured, "Shower."
Once her lover was naked, Emma guided her beneath the cool spray of water, undressing as well, and stepping in with her so that she could wash her hair, and body. She moved swiftly, but they lingered there for a little while until Emma was satisfied that her skin felt a little cooler. Her touch was so gentle, in stark contrast to the tense interaction from earlier.
Most of Regina's pajamas were long-sleeved silk pajamas; cozy and luxurious, of course, but even with silk being relatively cool, it didn't seem like the best choice in sleepwear right now. Emma grabbed a pair of her own boxers and tank top from the dresser, helping Regina into them, all the while amazed when Regina didn't protest. Once she'd slipped into pajamas as well, Emma curled up in bed, close to her lover.
"Regina Mills, sleeping in boxers."
Regina let out a soft breath. "Your boxers."
There was a flicker of a smile on Emma's lips, and her fingertips stroked tenderly across Regina's forehead.
"How do you feel?" She leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, which made Regina nuzzle closer, her entire body finally beginning to relax.
"You're here," Regina answered softly, her eyes growing heavy.
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Yes, it does." You're here, and everything is perfect now, Regina's eyes seemed to say. The tender caresses across her brow finally coaxed her eyes to close, but not before Regina's hand came to rest on Emma's hip, making sure she stayed right there, all night long.