When Emma finally regained her breath, it was almost 8 o'clock in the morning. She usually got to work around 9 am. This gave her an excuse to make her appearance in the kitchen brief and hopefully avoid the whole "what happened" conversation with her parents for the time being. She reached into her bedside table drawer and pulled out the ibuprofen she kept there. She swallowed 4 tablets dry, which was twice the recommended dosage.
That should kick in in time for work. She thought to herself, letting out a sneeze so violent that it made her drop the bottle of ibuprofen, as though her body was saying it had other ideas. She bent down to pick it up, her head pounding as she did so.
Throwing the bottle back into the drawer, she pulled herself up and stretched her aching muscles as best she could. Not able to avoid the inevitable any longer, Emma made her way out of her room and down the steep narrow steps that led into the kitchen, having to grab the railing much tighter than usual to keep herself upright.
As she expected, both of her parents sat at the kitchen counter awaiting her arrival.
David was stirring his coffee intently and did not look up when he heard Emma coming down the stairs. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked right up as soon as she heard Emma and gave her a sad expression she couldn't quite read.
"Good morning Emma," Mary Margaret said, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder.
As her daughter came closer, she became increasingly aware of how horrible Emma looked. There were huge bags under her eyes, she was even paler than usual and her nose was bright bright red. Immediately, Mary Margaret knew this was more than just fatigue and depression from the loss of Hook.
"Sweetheart…" she started, her motherly instincts kicking in, "are you alright?" She walked over to Emma and helped her sit down on the couch.
"'alright' wouldn't be the word I'd use," Emma retorted, internally groaning that they were not just going to let her eat and go to work, and completely unaware her mother was referring to her physical health.
"What's wrong honey?" Mary Margaret said, fixing to move a strand of Emma's blonde hair out of her face. Emma flinched away at the contact. Having someone fawn over her was still a pretty new and very uncomfortable experience for her, and even more so when she was not feeling her best.
Mary Margaret withdrew her hand from Emma and sighed deeply, settling for placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder instead.
"Well, for starters," Emma said in a loud voice, "my boyfriend is gone, and this time we know he's not coming back. So there's that." She wondered why her mother was asking such a stupid question. Of course she knew what was wrong. She was there when they found out Killian couldn't come back wasn't she?
"Well...yes." Mary Margaret responded, perplexed, "but I was referring more to the fact that you don't look like you feel too well sweetheart."
Emma understood now.
Her attempts to control her breathing and trying to hide the intense urges to cough had not been enough to completely disguise her health. Her mother was onto her, and looking over to the counter for the first time to see her dad looking at her from behind his coffee mug, she guessed that he was mentally examining her as well.
Not wanting any more attention from her parents right now and not quite ready to give in to their concerns, Emma gave it one more shot.
Trying to gain enough breath to talk without running out of air mid sentence, she sat up a little straighter. If there was one thing Emma was good at it was fooling people.
"What are you talking about?" She chuckled forcibly, unraveling herself from her mother's hands and standing up, with only slight difficulty, "I'm fine." She looked at both of them with a small smile.
Her mother had a huge frown plastered on her face as she stood up to join Emma on her feet.
"Well, we can talk about that later," she said giving a meaningful glance towards David. She had heard her daughter coughing last night, and had heard from him that Emma had been sniffling and sneezing all day at work as well. Right now they had bigger things to discuss.
"Your father and I want to talk to you about last night."
Emma's heart sank, she was really hoping this would wait until after work. She was too fatigued to deal with her guilt right now, much less talk to her dad about it. She'd regretted saying those things to him all night. But he had to realize he was in the wrong too and honestly they both had things to apologize for.
David finally set down his mug on the counter, still half full, and walked over to the couch where Emma and Mary Margaret stood. He sat down next to Emma so she was between both her parents.
She wasn't ready to have this conversation just yet… why couldn't her parents see that? All Emma wanted to do was get to the office with all her heart. It was Friday, her dad's day off (she had Mondays off), so she wouldn't have to hide her coughs there.
She just wanted a bowl of cereal and some coffee. Not a session of Dr. Phil. Was that too much to ask?
Emma felt the gentle hand of her mother pushing her down on the couch again and she begrudgingly complied.
"Emma, we know these past few days have been very hard for you," her mother started, barely resisting the urge to take her daughter's hand. "And I know it's weird to have us on your case all the time seeing we are so close in age... but you have to remember we are still your parents. We will always be your parents, and no matter how old you get you need to give us some respect." She nodded to David, encouraging him to say his piece. Emma's eyes stayed lowered to the couch, her already feverishly flushed cheeks becoming redder by the second.
I can't do this right now. Her brain said over and over. I Can't Do This Right Now.
David cleared his throat.
"Emma, I'm so sorry if I overstepped a boundary with you last night. The last thing I wanted to do was make you upset." Emma felt a tickle in her nose, she closed her eyes to try and avoid the sneeze but she knew it was just a matter of time before she would have to give in. "We just want to help you," her father continued, noticing the strange expression on Emma's face. "We know that loss is hard, but now that Hades is gone we have time, we all have time to mourn. But instead of pushing people away, why don't you try letting us in, talking about him, let us help. We are a family and the best way that this family get's through things, is together. As far as your lang-" David speech was cut off by 3 gigantic sneezes coming from his daughter that shook the entire couch up and down, this was followed by a coughing fit resulting from when she had tried to catch her breath.
At the same moment he and Mary Margaret shared a knowing look. Mary Margaret rubbed her daughter's back while Emma continued to cough and gasp for air, bent over the couch with her head on her knees. Emma's coughs were deep and wet and her parents could tell each one pained her more than the last.
"Shh.. it's okay Emma. Just focus on breathing," Mary Margaret said, her eyes full of worry.
After quite a few more concerningly deep coughs Emma finally began to breathe more normally again. Mary Margaret helped her sit back and gain support from the back of the couch.
"Oh Emma..." David said, taking her hands in his, "this is why we don't walk in the freezing rain." He chuckled slightly as a small but concerned smile appeared on his face, "Especially when you were already fighting off something," his wife added. Emma looked at her mother with a conjured look of ignorance, trying to convince her mother that she had no idea what she was talking about.
Mary Margaret's hand gently pressed against Emma's forehead. Emma knew pulling away would make her look like she was trying to hide her illness even more, so she stayed put. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her mother's cooling hand was nice against her hot skin, not that she would ever admit it.
"David.." she heard her mother say, "she's burning up."
Ughhh Emma thought to herself, why hasn't the ibuprofen kicked in already? This is exactly what she didn't want to happen.
"Guys," she said, again pushing off all the hands currently on her, "It's just a cold I'm fine."
Her parents exchanged another look and as if they were having a mental conversation. Her father got up and headed towards the bathroom, coming back seconds later with a thermometer in hand.
"If you had a cold, you wouldn't have a temperature," her mother said taking it quickly from her husband, worry still in her eyes.
"I don't need a thermometer," Emma repeated. "Mom must have cold hands or something. I have to get to work anyways," Emma said looking at her dad hopefully and trying to stand up, This time both of her parents' hands catching her before she could.
"Sit," her mother said firmly, pushing her back down. "Emma Marie you are not going anywhere, now open your mouth," she commanded. Emma sighed, complying sadly.
"Now don't you dare open until it beeps" her mother said, fixedly staring at her daughter until the thermometer signaled it had made its calculations. She knew her all too well.
Before Emma could so much as react, her mother had taken the thermometer from her mouth and looked at it expectantly.
"99.8" she read, looking at Emma.
"Hah!" Emma replied with a little sass in her voice, "it's under 100 degrees, so it's not a real fever." She smiled at her parents, about to get up. "I'll be in the kitchen making some cerea-ah-choo!" Her sentence yet again cut off by a loud sneeze.
"Emma," her mother said, trying to conceal a laugh, "a low grade fever is still a fever, and I did not like the sound of that cough either. I'm sorry sweetheart but I don't think you are going anywhere today." Standing up as she spoke, Mary Margaret went to their kitchen medicine cabinet and took out some Aspirin. Seeing what she was doing David got a glass of water. They both brought these back over to where Emma sat pouting and rolling her eyes at what she perceived as their usual overreactions.
"Take this" David said, handing her the water, which she gladly took. Her throat did not feel the best after those last coughs. But when her mother tried handing her two aspirin she declined.
"I'm okay, really." She insisted, gently pushing away her mother's hand, "And I hate to say it, especially with what happened last night, but as an adult, I can still go to work without my parent's permission, respectfully, of course." She added, turning towards her father.
Frowning, her mother continued to hold out the medicine.
"I can't" Emma said quietly to her mom's outstretched hand.
"And why not?" her mother asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I- um… already took some ibuprofen…" Emma admitted in what this time was almost a whisper.
"How long ago?"
"Umm… 10 minutes?" Emma lied, it had really been more like 30.
Sighing, her mother turned to her father.
"What do you think, David?"
Emma's father took a minute to think, looking from her, to Emma, to the door.
"I think Emma and I still have a lot to talk about" he said, running his hands through his hair. "But, she is an adult and since her fever is so low-grade… I think it should be her choice whether or not she goes to work." He looked back at his daughter, a tight smile on his face. "But this conversation," he added, "is not over."
Mary Margaret's brows furrowed. That is obviously not what she wanted to hear out of her husband.
She knew her daughter, and knew just how much she took after herself, and she knew Emma was withholding something from them. And she did not want to let her go anywhere until she knew what.
"Fine," she grumbled, "but there are conditions."
"Sure," Emma said, just wanting to speed the conversation along.
"You will keep your phone on you and switched on all day," she started, receiving an eye roll from her daughter but ignoring it for now, "You will not be seeing Henry for lunch today nor will you be doing any high speed chases. If there is an emergency, you call your father and you do not get involved."
Emma nodded stiffly. At this point she would agree to anything just to get out of this apartment.
"And lastly, make sure you eat something too okay?" her mother said, the look of worry returning to her eyes.
"Yep," Emma replied curtly. And with that she stood up and slowly walked to the kitchen, popping some bread in the toaster and getting some milk for cereal from the fridge.