A/N: Happy New Year my darlings! Let's start 2017 off right with a new angsty SwanQueen fic. Slowburn, as always. And yes, the alliterative titles continue too.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as she carefully manoeuvred the car through the heavy city traffic. Blurred white and red lights surrounded her, rain falling from the grey sky above pounding on the windshield. Muttering under her breath, she glanced in the rear view mirror and felt tears prick her eyes. Steeling herself, she returned her focus to the wet road as the sign for King's College Hospital loomed ahead. Indicating, she pulled off the road and parked as close to the imposing building as she could.
Jumping out of the car, she tugged her coat more closely against her, cursing the harsh January rain and opened the rear door.
"Come on, Henry," she murmured, wrapping her arms around the small boy whimpering on the back seat.
There was no reply as his mother lifted his trembling frame into her arms and slammed the door shut with her foot. Hurrying through the stormy weather, she reached the entrance in seconds, raindrops spattering the ground from her coat as she skidded to a stop in front of the receptionist.
"How may I help you?" asked the grey-haired woman behind the desk.
"It's my son, he's got a really bad fever and I think his glands are swollen. He won't eat and he won't sleep and -."
"Ok, let me take a few details and I'll get someone to see you as soon as possible," the receptionist said, peering over her glasses at the boy sleeping restlessly in his mother's arms. "If you can just fill this out for me Miss -?"
"Swan, Emma Swan," the blonde said, taking the proffered form and pen. "And this is Henry."
"Well, Emma, take a seat over there and I'll find a nurse to come and check on Henry in a few minutes."
Emma nodded mutely and traipsed over to a couple of free chairs. She laid Henry down tenderly before sitting herself and beginning to fill in the details on the paperwork. She had barely gotten past writing their address when a nurse appeared and crouched down beside them.
"Hello, my name is Belle," she said, a gentle Australian lilt to her voice. "Do you want to follow me? I think we'd better get this little man seen by a doctor."
"Is is it serious?" Emma asked, tossing her forms aside and scooping Henry easily into her arms once more.
"Well, let's see what the doctor says before leaping to any conclusions," Belle said over her shoulder as she led Emma out of the waiting area and down a wide, white corridor.
Emma swallowed thickly as she noted that she and her son had passed a large number of people who had surely been waiting in the hospital longer than they had. She hurried up to walk briskly beside Belle just as they turned into a small consultation room.
"Wait here," Belle said, smiling reassuringly.
Feeling anything but reassured, Emma moved to the window, rocking Henry in her arms as she looked out at the dull, grey city before her, orange lights blinking through the continued downpour.
"It's going to be ok, kid," she whispered to the boy who was once again sleeping in her arms. She dropped a kiss to his forehead and winced as she felt how hot he was. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead despite the cold winter day. She blinked back tears as she watched his sleeping face contort in discomfort.
"Miss Swan?" came a voice from behind her.
Emma spun around. "Yes," Emma said, taking in the young man with blindingly white hair standing before them, the white coat and stethoscope indicating his profession.
"I'm Doctor Whale," he said. "Belle asked me to come and see you but I'm afraid I haven't got any of your forms."
"I didn't fill them out," Emma admitted. "This is Henry. He's got a really bad fever and I can't get him to eat anything."
Doctor Whale nodded and beckoned Emma closer. She did so, laying Henry down on the examination table. He looked tiny, she noted, as he slept on, sprawled across the bed.
"A little background?" Doctor Whale asked as he set to work on his new patient.
"Henry is six," Emma said. "He's never been sick before, at least, no more than other children. And then after Christmas he started to go downhill. He said he had a sore throat and lost his appetite. By last night I couldn't even get him to eat his favourite cereal. I knew you'd be busy for New Year's Eve though, so I waited until today to bring him in. That wasn't a mistake was it?" she asked anxiously, watching as Doctor Whale laid a stethoscope to Henry's little chest.
"And when did the tiredness start?" he asked, ignoring Emma's question.
"Um," Emma frowned, trying to think. "The day before yesterday."
Doctor Whale nodded and began to move his hands down Henry's torso, pressing lightly. As his fingers pressed the soft flesh of his abdomen, Henry's eyes flickered open and he began to cry, wriggling away from the painful touch. Doctor Whale stepped back and allowed Emma to gather the boy into her arms.
"I think it's glandular fever," he said, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck. "But I want to do a blood test just to rule anything else out. Do you know if he's been in contact with someone who's been infected. It could be anyone he's met within the last two months."
Emma shook her head blankly, eyes wide. "So what I can I do?" she asked, desperation in her tone.
"Nothing," Doctor Whale said, moving to get a blood test kit. "Glandular fever is a virus so antibiotics don't work. You can give him paracetamol to lower his fever and make sure he drinks lots of water and gets plenty of rest. And then you'll just have to wait. Recovery time is usually about a month."
"A month!" Emma exclaimed.
"Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter," Doctor Whale said as he unwrapped the new needle and syringe. "Henry, I need you to be a big brave boy now and hold your arm out."
Brown eyes peered over his mother's shoulder, regarding the approaching doctor with suspicion.
"No," came the muffled response as he buried his hot face in Emma's neck.
His mother sighed. "Henry, buddy, you need to let the doctor do one little test and then he can make you better."
"No he can't," Henry said. "I heard him say he can't give me antibitics."
Emma's eyebrows rose. She hadn't realised her son was listening and was impressed with his comprehension levels. He had always been a bright child.
"Antibiotics," she corrected. "And ok, he can't give you anything to help but this test will make sure he definitely knows what is wrong with you."
"It'll be over in a few seconds," Doctor Whale promised.
Henry's eyes returned to the blonde stranger, eyes roving over him as if casting judgement.
"Ok," he said at last, extracting his arm from between his body and Emma's and holding it out for Doctor Whale.
"Good boy," both adults said together.
Doctor Whale went to work at once as Emma tried to distract both herself and Henry from the needle now piercing his young skin. Henry bit his wobbling lip as he felt the stinging pain of the blood leaving his body and closed his eyes, tears leaking out as he did so. He felt the soft press of his mother's lips on his cheek a seconds later and relaxed slightly when the needle was removed as quickly as it had come.
"Done," Doctor Whale said, labelling and bagging the blood sample before returning to Henry's arm and placing a Superman plaster over the tiny speck of red on his skin. "I'd like to keep Henry in for a few hours for observation and these test results won't be back until tonight anyway. Belle can show you up to the ward. Oh, and when you get a chance can you please fill in those forms. Mr Gove just loves it when us doctors are drowning in paperwork rather than saving patients."
Emma smiled, despite the situation. "Will do, thank you, Doctor Whale."
"No problem at all. I'll drop this sample down to the lab and be back to check on you in an hour or two. Here are some paracetamol he can have," he said, handing over four tablets. "One every six hours. Nice to meet you, Henry. I'm sure you will start feeling better soon."
Henry looked sceptical at that promise and nestled himself closer to Emma as the doctor left the room. Mere seconds passed before Belle reappeared, smiling widely.
"Hi again," she said. "Hey Henry. How are you feeling?"
"My arm hurts too now," Henry replied, gesturing to the spot where Doctor Whale had drawn blood now hidden beneath a triumphant Superman.
"Oh dear," Belle said sympathetically. "Well then let's go and find you a nice comfy bed where you and your mum can wait for a while. How does that sound?"
Henry nodded his head in agreement and Belle turned her attention to Emma. "Doctor Whale asked me to take you up to one of the private paediatric rooms as we can't have a child infected with glandular fever on the public ward."
"Sure," Emma nodded. "Lead the way."
A few minutes later Emma and Henry were gawping at the room they had just stepped into. Coloured images were painted onto the walls and a large window looked out onto the city, the last of the day's light fading behind the silhouetted buildings on the horizon.
"Wow," Emma breathed. "Impressive."
"The NHS is doing what it can to compete with the private practices which are encroaching," Belle said, pulling back the bright blue bedspread and watching Emma lower her son into the bed. "Can I get you guys anything? Food? Drink?"
"I'm ok, thanks," Emma said. "Henry? Are you hungry?"
The boy shook his head, looking around in awe at the characters on the wall.
"Ok, I'll be back in a bit to check up on you guys. In the meantime, TV remote is there, magazines are a little out of date but still readable, and there's a coffee machine just down the hall if you need a little boost."
Emma thanked the nurse who then left before sinking into the armchair beside the bed and turning to her son.
"It's so cool in here!" Henry exclaimed. "Baloo is looking right at me."
"He is," Emma nodded. "And Bagherra is above your head."
Henry turned and smiled up at the black panther crouched over his bed. He snuggled down beneath the duvet and looked around once more. Emma couldn't help but smile at seeing how her son had perked up due to The Jungle Book themed room but she also knew he still felt very sick. She had had glandular fever herself as a child and remembered weeks of discomfort and pain. Her heart ached thinking of Henry going through that too. But at least they had a diagnosis, she reasoned. At least it was something which he'd get better from.
Two hours later, Belle returned to the room.
"How is he?" she whispered, not wanting to disturb Henry who was finally asleep.
"Hot," Emma replied, turning off the television which she'd been watching with the volume turned way down. "But he's been sleeping for about an hour now."
"Doctor Whale is expecting the results within the next hour," Belle said. "He'd have come himself but we're very busy up on the ward. Do you want me to sit with Henry whilst you go and get something to eat and a coffee. You look like you need it."
"Would you mind?" Emma asked just as her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten all day.
"Go ahead," Belle assured. "The cafeteria is on the ground floor. Steer clear of the pies; Mary Berry would have a field day about their soggy bottoms. But the sandwiches are pretty good."
Emma grinned at the fellow Great British Bake Off fan. "Thanks, I'll be as quick as I can."
She pressed a final kiss to Henry's forehead and was pleased to note the paracetamol Doctor Whale had given him was working its magic. With a final glance at her sleeping son, she headed out of the room.
The corridors were busy, patients, families and staff weaving amongst one another. Emma reached the lifts and joined the small group travelling downwards. Several of them also followed Emma in the direction of the signposted cafeteria and they spilled collectively into the large space minutes later. Emma glanced around and headed straight for the sandwich display, deciding to take Belle's advice seriously. With a BLT for herself and a chicken salad for Henry, in case he was hungry when he woke up, she moved towards the coffee counter.
"Flat white, please," she told the barista. "Two shots."
"Same for me, please," came a voice from beside her. "As quick as you can."
Emma turned, eyebrows raised, in the direction of the deep tone. Stood next to her was a beautiful brunette, her white coat jiggling as she tapped her foot in impatience.
"Sorry," she said as she noted Emma looking curiously at her. "I didn't mean to jump onto your order. I've got five minutes left of my break and I needed a little caffeine boost."
"Understood," Emma said simply, turning back to the barista and watching her work.
There was an awkward silence, filled only with the hum of the cafeteria and the hiss of the coffee machine.
"Who are you here with?"
Emma turned back to the doctor beside her, hesitating a moment before answering. "My son."
"I'm sorry," the doctor said.
"Thanks," Emma said shortly.
Another pause.
"Who's treating him?"
Once more, Emma looked towards the doctor. She took in the woman in more detail this time. She had short brown hair, perfectly styled to flick out at the ends. Her eyes were a brilliant brown but beneath them were the unmistakable dark circles of a hangover. Her complexion, too, was a little paler than Emma would have expected given her hair colour. A stethoscope was draped around her elegant neck, dangling against her collarbones just visible through the v-neck of her blue scrubs. The woman's fingers were twisting together impatiently, fingering the buttons of her doctor's coat.
"Doctor Whale," Emma replied.
"He's good," the doctor said. "Not as good as me, but good."
Emma couldn't help but laugh at the cocky statement. The doctor beamed at her, seemingly glad she had raised the worried mother's spirits.
They fell silent once more watching as the milk was added to their respective coffees. As soon as they were ready, they moved simultaneously to the counter, each handing over their money. The doctor took a large gulp at once, sighing in contentment and ignoring the stinging burn of her tongue as the hot liquid met her mouth.
"Big night last night?" Emma asked, sipping more tentatively at her steaming drink.
"First New Year's Eve off in seven years," the doctor nodded. "Although I'm regretting it now."
"Good luck for the rest of your shift then," Emma said.
"Thanks," the doctor said. "Good luck to you and your son."
Emma nodded at that, remembering her little boy lying upstairs, in pain and sick. Her mouth set in a thin line and she hurried off, not even saying goodbye to the doctor who stood by the counter watching her go. It wasn't until her blonde hair flicked around the corner that Regina Mills snapped out of her reverie and headed for her office, shaking herself a little to regain focus.
"It is glandular fever," Whale announced not long after Emma returned. "I'd recommend Henry stays in overnight tonight as there are a couple more tests we want to run and it would be easier if he were here tomorrow morning instead of you coming back for the results."
"What sort of tests?" Emma asked, her hand drifting protectively towards Henry's little body, the boy still sleeping soundly.
"There are just a couple of anomalies in his blood work and I'd like to check out a couple of suspicions."
"Suspicions?"
"Nothing to worry about," Doctor Whale assured. "We're just being thorough."
Emma looked unconvinced. "Um, ok. We'll stay if you think we should,"
"You should," he said firmly. "But I'm afraid my shift is finishing in ten minutes. My colleague will be taking over from me though and she'll be along in a little while to explain what tests we're going to be running. Any questions for me before I go?"
"No, thank you, Doctor."
"You're welcome. I'll probably see you tomorrow, anyway. I hope you both have a good night's sleep."
"Not likely," Emma murmured, looking back towards her son.
Doctor Whale didn't answer, deciding it was unnecessary to do so. Instead he clipped Henry's lab results to the board at the bottom of the small boy's bed and headed out into the corridor.
Emma was dosing the next time the door opened, her head resting awkwardly against Henry's mattress. The boy himself, however, was awake, looking around the colourful room with interest. As the new doctor appeared, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hello Henry," she said, moving towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Poorly," came the simple reply. "Who are you?"
"My name is Doctor Mills," she introduced. "But you can call me Regina if you want."
"Regina?"
Two pairs of brown eyes snapped to the sleepy blonde who had just woken up. She looked between her son and the new doctor, eyebrows shooting up her forehead in recognition.
"Oh, hi," she said, sitting up rapidly and wiping the streak of drool from the side of her mouth.
"We meet again," Regina said, smiling coyly. "Doctor Mills, at your service."
She held out her hand across the bed and Emma took it, the skin soft and warm beneath her own.
"Emma Swan," the blonde said. "You're a paediatrician?"
"Indeed I am," she nodded solemnly. "And I'm going to do my very best to work out what is wrong with your son."
"Doctor Whale's already told us," Emma said, frowning at the statement. "He's got glandular fever, right?"
Regina bit her lip. She hated this part of her job. She had chosen to specialise in children because she loved to help them and their families in any way she could. But sometimes there were no answers and telling a parent she had no clue what was making their child sick was the worst feeling in the world.
"He does," Regina nodded. "But we think it might be a bit more complicated than that."
A/N: thoughts?