A/N: I haven't written anything in a while, but An Apple Red as Blood inspired me. So...enjoy!
Disclaimer: ABC owns everything.
Mary Margaret looked through the glass window of the hospital room. She could see Henry lying on the starched white bed, with Emma sitting hunched in the uncomfortable chair beside him.
Mary Margaret pushed open the door and walked over to Emma. Up close, she noticed the dark bags under her roommate's eyes, and the pale tint of her skin.
"Hey," she said. "I brought you some hot chocolate."
Emma accepted the Styrofoam cup without tearing her eyes away from her son's still figure.
For a while, nothing was said, and the only sound was the beeping of the heat monitor.
"He looks so…small," Emma whispered, her voice cracking.
Mary Margaret agreed. Lying on the bed, dwarfed by all the machines, Henry looked nothing like the lively boy she knew so well.
"He'll be all right," Mary Margaret announced, hoping that just by saying the words it would come true. "He's a strong kid."
"What if he doesn't?" Emma's voice took on a desperate tone. "What if he doesn't pull through? Then he'll never know that I really did try to be so hard to be a good mother, and do what's best for him. That I tried to believe him when he talked about the curse and Operation Cobra. Now he might never know, and I might be the one to kill him because I tried to leave and he…"
Emma dissolved into tears, and Mary Margaret was shocked. She had seen Emma smile, break a toaster, rage against Regina, and retreat into herself. Yet she had never, ever seen Emma cry. To be honest, it was unsettling to watch the great Emma Swan break down.
Mary Margaret could do nothing but let the blonde sob into her shoulder and murmur reassuring words of comfort.
"Emma," she said. "You are not a bad mother, and Henry knows everything you could never tell him. I know I yelled at you for not doing what's best for Henry, and I'm sorry. I truly am. I'll tell you this – the best thing to do for him now is to believe that he'll get better."
"I'm just one person," Emma replied. "How can my belief wake him up from this?"
"You're not alone in this Emma. You have me, and you have David. Henry's like our family, and families always stick together."
Emma returned Mary Margaret's soft smile, and the desperation in her eyes was slowly replaced with something akin to hope.
Later that night, after Emma had fallen into a deep sleep in the wooden chair, Mary Margaret grabbed her bag. From its deep recesses she pulled out Henry's book, the one she had given him so long ago. It had been lying in the apartment, and she had grabbed it on a spur of the moment decision.
Now she laid it on Henry's bed, and for some odd reason pressed a gentle kiss to the young boy's forehead
"Get better, Henry," she whispered. "For all of us."
A/N: Annnnd that's the end of this one-shot. By the way, Mary Margaret isn't remembering when she mentions being family, she just considers David and Emma her family.
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