Author's Note: Here's some Charming-and-Emma time. Just because. ;)


"We'll be back soon, all right?" a weary Snow murmured to her just as weary husband. He gave her a nod and Henry a smile before the two of them slipped from Emma's hospital room.

The night had been long and restless. Dr. Whale had apparently ordered regular readings of Emma's temperature because the night nurse had come around every couple of hours to check her vitals. Though she'd tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the whole family, either Charming or Snow had woken each time she'd entered.

Emma had been restless most of the night as well. The nightmare from which Snow had woken her was merely the first in a long line of what had to have been awful and disturbing dreams. Sometimes Snow would try to calm her and sometimes Charming would; it all depended on which one of them was awake at the time.

Eventually Snow had gotten up from the chair, crossed the room, and pulled something out of Henry's backpack. In the darkness, all Charming could see had been a bundle of soft fabric. His wife had tucked the bundle under the covers with their daughter, making sure her flailing hand found it. And with that, Emma had finally calmed, letting out first a shuddering breath and then a soft sigh.

"What on earth was that?" Charming had whispered, eyes wide in awe.

"Her baby blanket," Snow had whispered back around the lump that had formed in her throat.

That had been at a little before three. It was now almost eight. Emma had been quiet ever since, and Henry was complaining of hunger. Snow had offered to take Henry back to the apartment so they could both shower and change, and they would pick up breakfast on the way back to the hospital.

Now Charming sat alone, watching over his sick daughter. She seemed to have a bit more color in her face yesterday, which was most definitely a good thing. There was still a slight whistle in her breath, though, which was troubling. And when Charming gingerly brushed his thumb across her forehead, her skin was still on fire.

She's not going to like that, he thought with a frown. After all, Dr. Whale had said he would only release her when her fever broke. Charming was not looking forward to being the one to tell his stubborn daughter that she was likely going to be in the hospital another day.

For a few minutes, he simply watched Emma sleep. It still awed him sometimes, that the woman in front of him was his daughter. He was so proud of her, so thrilled that his little baby had grown up into such an amazing, loyal, fierce, and courageous woman. And yet sometimes, like now with her face blank of any emotion, he could see the little girl she had once been, the little girl he'd never known who would have sat on his lap and given him running hugs and a run for his money. It hurt more than words could express that he'd never known that little girl, and yet, he was so unbelievably happy that she was here with him now.

It was all quite confusing.

Emma began to stir after a few minutes. At first, it was just shifting under the blanket but then there was a mini-disaster that Charming could see unfolding almost in slow motion but didn't have the time to stop. Emma placed her hands flat on the mattress in an attempt to push herself up into a sitting position and cried out in pain, her eyes snapping open. "Shit!" she cried, cradling her left hand in her right. "What the hell?"

Charming winced right along with her. "The IV's in the back of your hand," he informed her gently.

"Yeah, I get that now," she grumbled. "Who the hell's bright idea was that?"

Technically, it was her own restlessness that had made the gentleman unable to place the IV in the typical place in her arm, but Charming didn't find it prudent to mention that. "They couldn't get it in your arm yesterday," was all he said in terms of an explanation. Standing up from the chair, he reached around the bed rail and pressed the button that raised the head so she was sitting up a little straighter. "Is that better?"

A tiny grateful smile curled on her lips as she nodded. He smiled back and reclaimed his seat in the chair. Charming sensed that Emma needed time to wake up a little bit, so he didn't say another word to her. Eventually, she frowned at him, slight confusion wrinkling her brow. "Weren't you sitting there yesterday?"

"I was," he replied with an unnecessary nod.

"Were you … did you sit there all night?"

"I did."

Her frown deepened, though this time she looked thoughtful instead of confused. She'd talked to him a couple of times when he and Snow had pulled her from her nightmares the previous night, but Charming had no idea if she remembered it or not. Then, as if uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, Emma averted her gaze, running her eyes over the room instead.

Her gaze landed on Henry's backpack and a look of sudden realization crossed her face as she turned back to her father. "Where are–"

"Snow took Henry back to the apartment so he could change," he assured her. The conflict in her eyes did not escape him, the relief that they were coming back but the discomfort over the notion that they'd stayed with her all night, too. "They're bringing back donuts for breakfast."

At the mention of donuts, a small smile curled on Emma's lips. "She's getting at least one bear claw, right?"

"Of course," he chuckled. The hospital would feed her breakfast, obviously, but there was no coming between Emma Swan and her bear claw.

Before they could get into a discussion on the wonders of bear claws, Dr. Whale stepped into the room. "Ah, nice to see that you're awake, Miss Swan," he said as he removed the chart from the rack at the foot of the bed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

She glanced at Charming out of the corner of her eye. He gave her a little nod of encouragement, telling her to tell the doctor the truth. "Like an elephant is sitting on my chest," she answered honestly.

Dr. Whale frowned at that. "Pain or pressure?"

"Both?" she replied, her tone hesitant. "I feel like I can't take deep enough breaths because something's in the way, but when I try to take deep breaths to make up for it, it hurts … sharp pain."

"All right, let's take a look here."

Charming watched as Dr. Whale did a quick physical exam. He checked her temperature and when he asked Emma to take a couple of deep breaths, she shot her hand out to latch onto her father's. Before he even had the opportunity to be surprised, he grasped her hand, mindful of the IV.

She squeezed his hand – hard – as she did as Dr. Whale asked. Charming noted with more than a tinge of concern that the whistle in her breath had grown louder now that she was awake and talking. Dr. Whale sported a frown on his face as well as he removed the stethoscope from his ears and hooked it over the nape of his neck. "Your lungs still sound wet. I'll bump up your pain meds and order more fluids." Emma wrinkled her nose, which Dr. Whale didn't see because he was checking the monitor at her bedside for her vitals. "Your o-sat's still a little low, too, so I'm keeping you on the oxygen for the time being."

"Wonderful," Emma muttered, rolling her eyes. "How about my temperature?"

"102.7, so it's on its way down."

"But not enough for me to go home."

"Nope, sorry," he replied, sounding not at all apologetic. He met Charming's eyes, and the two men shared a smirk. Though Charming still couldn't stand the man, he had to admit that he was handling Emma's crankiness like a champ. "I'm afraid that you're a guest at our lovely establishment until your fever breaks."

"Great."

"Hey, you're lucky," he replied, the smirk still on his lips. He marked notes down in her chart and replaced it in the rack. "I could make you wait until your chest x-ray is clear."

Emma's eyes widened, and Charming had to work to swallow a snicker. Whale had told them all yesterday that sometimes it took weeks to get a clear chest x-ray. "I'd kill all of you," Emma groaned.

"That's the only reason why I'm not," he chuckled. "Not to worry, Miss Swan. You'll be out of here in no time."

After giving both her and Charming a smile, Dr. Whale stepped out of the room to continue his rounds. Emma heaved as deep a sigh as she could manage and leaned her head back against the mattress. "I just want to go home."

"I know you do, kiddo," Charming told her, wincing in sympathy. He couldn't resist the urge to brush a finger down her cheek. She looked up at him, somewhat surprised by the affection. "You know, you're a lot like me when I'm sick. I'm an awful patient, too."

"Really?" she asked. Then she blinked in realization and smirked at him. "Prince Charming is a horrible patient?"

"Yes indeed," he chuckled. "Your mother hadn't seen me sick yet when she gave me my nickname."

"This sounds like a story I need to hear," Emma said as she snuggled a little more deeply under the covers.

Charming smiled at her, touched that she was asking for a story from him. "Just after the wedding, I came down with a cold not unlike the one you had a couple weeks back."

"Let me guess," Emma interrupted, "she was just as annoying with you as she was with me?"

"Pretty much," Charming allowed, but only because the smirk on her face softened the words. Though she sounded aggravated, he could hear how touched she was. "Just like you, though, I knew it was coming from a place of love. Still, when I don't feel well, all I want is to be left alone. And I refused to admit that a simple cold was making me miserable – just like someone else I know." He shot a pointed glance at his daughter. Her cheeks flushed as she gave him a sheepish grin.

"So, for two whole days, I coughed and sneezed and suffered through a throbbing headache," he continued. "She fussed because she was worried, and I was annoyed because … well, I didn't feel well and she was fussing."

"Sounds about right," Emma murmured, her eyes drifting closed. She forced them open after a long moment and sat up a little straighter.

"Emma, you need to sleep–"

"No," she mumbled with a shake of her head. "Not until after I eat my bear claw." Charming couldn't help but chuckle at that. "And since you're the only one here, that means you get the lovely and important task of keeping me awake."

"And just how do you expect me to do that?" he asked with a gentle smile at his daughter.

She shrugged. "Check the pockets of Henry's backpack. The kid keeps all kinds of things in there."

He did as she asked, crossing the room to the small settee under which Henry had stored his backpack. Since he knew the main pocket held a change of clothes for his daughter and some toiletries, he bypassed it entirely. The right side pocket was empty but in the left, his hand wrapped around a small rectangular package. A deck of cards, he realized just as he pulled it free. Grinning, he held up the deck for his daughter to see. "Fancy a couple hands of five card draw?"

"You're on," she replied with a tired smile.