AN: Very slight trigger warning for Regina's self loathing in this chapter, it's brief and not at all the main focus of the chapter. It will be a reoccurring theme, likely in varying levels of intensity throughout, but I'll let you know if it ramps up.


As they're running Roland turns slightly and begins retching once more, pausing in between heaves to sob intermittently. Marian's face is soaked in her own anguished tears, and does anything she can to soothe him. The nurses had fortunately placed a shallow, pink, oblong bucket beside him before they had started moving again, and Marian is able to maneuver it into a position where Roland can continue vomiting without soiling the sheets anymore. Everyone runs faster.

Marian has relocated her death grip to Regina. She stands in a small, suffocating room. The tips of one hand's fingers rest uselessly against the glass window in front of her that separates her from her child, and the other holds to the queen's hand tightly. Regina is still helping her stand, one arm around the bandit's waist, and the other hanging loosely in front of them as the hand connected to it is trapped in Marian's grasp. Marian doesn't even remember grabbing it, but now it's the only thing tethering her.

Guilt creeps steadily through Regina's veins as she stands with the distraught woman. She takes no pleasure in Marian or anyone's suffering; those days have long passed. But she can't push down the feeling of warmth that had spread through her when the other woman had sought comfort with her of all people, the Evil Queen. She hates that both mother and son are in so much misery, wishing deeply that she could somehow undo this and take away their pain. There isn't anything she can do, though. And so she stands silently, offering both literal and emotional support for the woman still leaning against her.

That Regina's efforts to console weren't met with immediate revulsion had astounded her. She had thought for sure when she had quietly offered her hand to Marian that it would have been slapped away in disgust, but instead the other woman had latched on instantly and hadn't let go since. She's keeping the wonder and happiness over this, that anyone would accept her compassion, locked tight inside her chest. She knows how hideously inappropriate it is given the situation. The bones of her hand feel as though they're slowly being crushed, but Regina says nothing in protest and simply squeezes back.

The mayor is intensely aware of the others in the room regarding her actions with prying interest, but she obstinately ignores them. Marian, however, is only vaguely aware of anything around her. Her focus is concentrated on Roland. Through that infuriating glass barrier, her child lies in this machine. The word is still unfamiliar on her tongue and in her mind. It's a giant contraption, the likes of which Marian has never conceived of before. Upon seeing it, she had breathlessly asked, "Is it magic?" To which the doctor had answered in the negative but persistently affirmed it was safe for Roland.

She sings softly, a lullaby her own mother had sung to her as a little girl back in their village. When the doctor had forced the mother and son on separate sides of the glass, Roland had begun to squirm and cry out for her. He only settled enough for the test to work when the doctor had pushed some sort of button and asked Marian to speak to calm the child, promising he would be able to hear her through the wall.

Now she stares at the massive machine that engulfs her baby and makes him look tinier than he ever has; even smaller than the day he was born and the perfect, squalling bundle no bigger than a bread loaf was first placed in her arms. She stares and sings around the enormous lump in her throat. She can't do anything to stop his pain, she can't heal him, doesn't know what's wrong with him, but she can sing to him. Marian can feel the eyes of the others in the room boring into her back, watching inquisitively as the Evil Queen comforts a bandit. She can't summon up an ounce of herself that cares even remotely what they have to say about it though.

Unsure of how much time has passed spent watching her son, the mother continues her lullaby until the doctor interrupts.

"Alright, let's get him out of there."

Marian's feet are moving towards the door before she consciously decides to do so, and soon she's holding onto Roland's hand again as he's transitioned back into his bed. There are two nurses with her that start pushing the bed out of both rooms and Doctor Kent stays behind to study the images that the test yielded.

Marian doesn't pay much attention to which direction they're moving in now, but soon they've come to another room. It's small, and there is a large window on one side with more curtains drawn tight over it. The nurses have pushed Roland's bed into the center of this room, and suddenly everything is unerringly still. The whirlwind of nurses and doctors around her son ceases once they've got the wheels of the bed locked in place. Marian doesn't even register that she has been gently pushed into the chair by the boy's bedside until minutes later.

Her brain finally understands that she was moved to a seated position when she begins to feel the deep physical relief of no longer standing. She looks up to Regina with a furrowed brow, and Regina returns the look with one arched eyebrow of her own.

Their eyes connect and for a moment they're locked in a staring match. It draws out longer than either of them notices at first, but when Marian realizes how comfortable she feels gazing into the queen's eyes it unsettles her enough to cause the bandit to clear her throat awkwardly and break the contact. Regina says nothing, but places her hand on Marian's shoulder and turns her attention back to Roland.

The darker skinned brunette finally finds her voice after an unknown amount of time has passed with the only sound being Roland's quiet, occasional whines and the steady beeps of the heart monitor fixed to the corner of the bed above the boy's head.

"Why did you help us?"

Seconds beat into minutes and still Regina has said nothing, so Marian lifts her eyes from Roland and looks to the other woman. She thinks the queen's own eyes have widened, and that her posture has gone even stiffer, but then again maybe by this point she's just imagining things. She wouldn't be surprised. When it's clear that no answer is forthcoming, Marian sighs quietly and resumes watching over her son.


The stillness doesn't last, because before long there are more people in matching white coats filing quickly into the room. Their expressions are severe, and Marian swallows the lump in her throat for the thousandth time since this nightmare began. Doctor Kent is there, and she introduces the others she brought with her. Doctors Yin and Lester nod at her respectively in greeting.

Kent removes something from an oversized envelope. Marian's never seen parchment like this before; large, shiny, and blackish blue; and she's even more amazed when the doctor places it on a box affixed to the wall and switches a light on within it. The light from the box shines through the strange parchment from behind and reveals images hidden within it. Marian has no idea what she's looking at, so she turns to the doctor with an expectant look on her face.

"Marian, these are Roland's organs. We've found the cause of his illness. See this right here?" Kent points to something small in the mass of unintelligible blobs that are supposed to be her son's organ tissue. Marian can't distinguish one object from anything else on the image, and she begins anxiously shaking her head.

"What, ah, what is it? I don't-" The lump feels as if dangerously close to closing her throat, and Marian has to swallow over it for the umpteenth time. "I don't understand what I'm seeing." She finishes quietly.

The doctor smiles sympathetically at the disheveled mother, and indicates again what she has evidently determined as the cause of Roland's suffering. She circles a small, round form on the image with her finger before speaking again, "This right here is what's doing this. It's a cyst on Roland's liver."

"What's a cyst?" Marian whispers, Regina softly squeezes her shoulder.

"It's a growth, a small fluid filled sac that has its own membrane separate from the surrounding tissue. This one would have been growing for a long time, but didn't cause any discernible discomfort until it got large enough to start causing problems. It's ruptured, which means the sac has burst and the fluid is leaking out. That's what caused the more intense pain. Earlier tonight, when Roland began screaming is likely when it burst. We need to remove it immediately."

It takes a moment for Marian to get the next question out, "Wha- what? Remove it? I don't understand, how? If it's on his liver, how can you remove it? Magic?" She's looking back and forth between Kent and Regina, the latter's expression unreadable, just waiting for any of this to make sense.

"We need to perform surgery on Roland."

"What the hell does that mean?" Marian's voice is starting to grow in volume again, and she locks onto Regina. Her eyes stay fixed there until the doctor begins to speak again, and then she's sweeping her gaze swiftly back to the older woman.

The doctor takes a deep breath and exchanges a glance with her fellow physicians, before seemingly bracing herself. "It means we need to cut inside him to get the cyst out. I know it sounds-"

"You know what? How does it sound? Grotesque? Horrifying? Does it sound like I'm not letting you anywhere near my child with a knife? Because that's what it sounds like to me!" She's on her feet and shouting before Kent can even finish her sentence. Her body language is ferociously defensive as she positions herself between the rest of the room and her child.

"It's drastic, yes, but if we don't do this we risk Roland developing an infection and becoming septic. He needs this, it's-"

Once again, Marian cuts her off. "He needs this?" Incredulity drips with every word, and the features of her face contort into a cross between rage and disbelief.

Regina steps cautiously towards Marian, she reaches for the woman's arm tentatively and tries to make her voice sound calm and soothing when she speaks, "Marian, listen-"

Marian doesn't acknowledge her approach at first, but when she hears the woman's dulcet voice, she reacts volatilely. She takes a step back and quickly shoves Regina's hand away. Regina pretends she doesn't feel that like a slap to the face. Truthfully she's not surprised, but she's disappointed in herself. She should have understood that Marian was acting on autopilot before; she didn't want Regina's comfort, she was entirely focused on her son and looked to the nearest figure for support. Of course she doesn't want you reaching out to her, Regina. She didn't realize who was doing so before. Now she does, and of course she's repulsed. Why would you think otherwise?

She's drawn out of her self loathing internal monologue by Marian's yelling. The reverberation of it bounces around the room and rattles in both women's skulls.

"Listen to what? They want to cut into my son, or did you not hear that part?" She spits acidly.

"No, I heard it." The fury scorching in Marian's eyes grows, and the mother takes a step towards the queen, but before she can get far Regina is speaking again. Not being one to back down, Regina takes a small step forward of her own, and her voice is hushed and furtive when she continues.

"We didn't do this back in the Enchanted Forest; surgery wasn't something that we had discovered yet! Maybe we never would have. We trusted magic and potions and spells to fix everything, but that doesn't work in this world." She considers this for a moment, then sneers when she continues, "Frankly, it didn't often work well in our world either."

Marian is still glaring savagely. So Regina drops the derision, not without an impressive eyeroll, and refocuses, "They don't have magic here and they had to figure something else out. So they did just that. For twenty nine years of the curse this town was just like every other in this world in that it relied on modern medicine to heal people, and that hasn't changed since the curse was broken either. We may have access to magic in Storybrooke now, but not the kind of potion ingredients or magical healers we did back in the Enchanted Forest. Even those didn't come with the understanding of medicine that this world has."

"I know this is scary, but we really don't have a lot of time. Surgery is Roland's only option, and it needs to be soon." Doctor Yin interjects.

Marian is still shaking her head and her jaw is resolutely clenched tight, eyes bright with fear. She leans back so that her hands touch the bed Roland lies in, arms spread out wide in a universal display of protectiveness. Regina glances quickly to the doctors, noting the urgency they're projecting. She turns back to Marian and opens her mouth but the words aren't given a chance.

"You have magic, why can't you heal him? Why have we gone through any of these ridiculous hoops, why can't you just fix him?" Desperation cracks in her voice as Marian glowers at the sorceress.

Regina pinches the bridge of her nose briefly; she knows the woman is grasping at straws. Her voice is measured, but there's a hint of frustration to it, "As I said, that doesn't work here. Believe me, if I could heal him I would have in a heartbeat. I'm not denying him anything, I just don't have the capability to perform complex healing magic. Bumps, cuts, surface wounds I can do. But something like this is beyond my depth, and I would only make things worse if I tried. I understand that all of what's happening is unimaginable for you."

Marian scoffs, "Do you? You understand? Would you let them do this to your son?"

Regina pushes through the deadweight in her gut that comes with the thought of Henry in Roland's position, the memories of him lying in his own hospital bed looking equally tiny coming back to her unbidden.

"Yes."

She speaks without hesitation, and Marian seems almost at a loss with this information. Her shoulders drop ever so slightly, but she's clearly still unconvinced. The doctors watch on in silence, hoping that the queen will be able to persuade the mother to let them operate for the sake of the boy.

"It sounds barbaric, I know. But it's precise. It's studied, and practiced. The doctors won't be slicing haphazardly into his abdomen; they know exactly what they're doing. They know how to do this without damaging his body." She takes another careful step towards Marian, but doesn't extend her arm this time. "I won't make you a promise I can't keep, I can't promise for sure that he'll be okay if you let them do this. But I can promise you he won't be if you don't let them, though."

"He'll die? What you're telling me," Marian feels like she's choking on her own tongue as she forces the words out, "What you're saying, is that he'll die if I don't let them do this?" Her voice is impossibly small, and she's shaking where she stands.

Regina flicks her gaze back to the doctors once more, and they all nod in confirmation.

"Yes, he'll die."