19 year-old Regina Mills stood at the window and cradled a tiny bundle in her arms. The night sky dazzled the woman with glittering stars and a full moon, all of which were a first for the small creature she cooed at. Wrapped like a burrito, the brown-haired baby wiggled his fingers and gazed up at the strange woman smiling down at him. He didn't know who she was, but she felt nice, warm. She rocked the infant gently, mystified by his innocence, and also slightly jealous. He was starting fresh; he had a clean slate. Well, it was as clean as someone in his position was going to get.

Emma Swan sat upright in the hospital bed, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion and her body aching immensely. She watched the way her friend seemed to bond with the child, the way Emma herself had been unable to do. Then again, she hadn't even attempted to hold her own baby. Every bit of her was sore and her limbs felt like lead. She was empty inside, physically and emotionally. All she wanted right then was to curl up into a tight ball, fall asleep, and… and never wake up.

"He really is gorgeous, Emma," Regina murmured, unable to peel her attention away from the little one. Tiny bubbles formed over his lips as he gurgled incoherently. His chubby cheeks puckered with every funny expression that he made. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

She'd felt the pity from the doctor and nurses when she refused to look at the newborn. Even in her semi-lucid state, Emma had been fully aware of her choices and what everyone else thought of them, as if they had any right to judge her because of it. When Regina arrived, she didn't pity Emma or judge her. She was Emma's anchor. "No," the blonde said shortly.

Regina turned away from the outer world and gently set the child back in his basinet, the one with four wheels. A nurse had brought him in just minutes ago and left him at the foot of Emma's bed, at her request. Even then, Regina said nothing. Now, as she took the empty spot beside the blonde, the brunette searched her friend's features carefully, genuinely astounded at everything she could see. "It's going to be all right," she emphasized. "Everything is going to be all right."

She reached for Emma's hand, but the tired woman recoiled from the touch, her bottom lip already quivering. "Don't. Don't lie me like that." She hastily flicked away an escaped tear and swallowed the pain as best she could. "Neal's gone," she said for the first time. "He's dead."

"But you aren't," Regina said strictly. She glanced behind her at the sleeping child and goosebumps rose at the base of her neck; he had no idea the world he'd just been born into. There was something so sincere about a new existence, and yet, so unforgiving. "You survived— you and that baby. And he needs you to be strong; he needs you to fight for him." How they'd managed to find themselves in this predicament, Regina would never figure out. But, it didn't matter. She was a firm believer that everything happened for a reason, whether one understands it or not. At times it could be cruel, but the fact of the matter was, fate was inescapable.

Emma looked down at her hands, embarrassed and ashamed. Most of all, though, she was hopeless. Not only did she feel empty, but she'd lost the only person who made her feel alive— who made her feel truly happy. "I can't," she choked out. "I can't do this… I can't be a mother." The words felt like nails slicing her tongue in half: toxic, sharp, and bloody. She'd known it for months, regardless of Neal's constant excitement. This just proved her hypothesis to be correct. And then, as if a lightbulb just went off in her mind, Emma snapped her head up and stared into Regina's eyes longingly. "You can take him."

It was as though she'd just been slapped across the face with closed fist. Regina went from sympathizing with Emma, to thinking she'd completely lost all sanity. "What?"

"The baby— you can take him. You can raise him." This wasn't just post-natal depression setting in and Emma knew it. This was something bigger.

Shaking her head vigorously, Regina stood on her three-inch-heels. She started to back away from Emma, almost as if she were in the presence of a monster. There were no tails to be wagged or fangs to be bared, but Regina was frightened nonetheless. She didn't recognize the woman speaking to her. "Emma, you've just been through a lot, you don't know—"

Fighting through the agony that tore through her mid-section, Emma grabbed Regina's wrist and pleaded with her. If she could have gotten down on her knees, she would have. "Please, Regina," she begged weakly, "You're the only I trust. I can't be his mom, but- but he can't go to the system."

Uncurling Emma's fingers from her flesh, Regina flapped her arms like a bird. "No, you're his mother! You can't leave him behind because you're scared! You don't want him to grow up like us? Then don't abandon him like we were!"

Biting down on her bottom lip, Emma ignored the tears and snot rushing down her face. She trudged on through the burning sensation in her torso and pins and needles in her legs. Every bit of energy she had left inside of her, every ounce of fight, she used for this. "I'm not leaving him behind; I'm leaving him with you. He deserves a happy home, to be loved… I can't give that to him."

"Do you hear yourself?!" Regina hissed. When the infant began to whimper pathetically, Regina made a risky move. With one hand supporting his head and the other under his back, she attempted to pass him over to Emma."If you'd just look at him, you'll realize how much you want him," she thought. But Emma wouldn't do it; she looked everywhere but at her son. Even when he started to fuss and cry and turn red, she couldn't make herself do it. It was if she were stuck in a straight jacket, but made no attempt to escape. Regina peered down at the new soul, and for the first time since she'd gotten there, she felt pity— not for Emma, but for the baby. Regina adjusted her hold on the boy and hugged him closer to her chest; immediately, he stopped his fit and went still. He'd fallen back asleep to sound of her heartbeat. It was then that Regina made a decision. "Do you understand what you're asking me to do?" she sighed. Emma nodded silently, the dimple in her chin multiplying exponentially. Even then, she couldn't force herself to lay eyes upon her child. But Regina could. And she would, for the rest of her life. "All right," she declared. "I'll take him."

Emma sat on a steel bench in front of the sliding doors, her legs outstretched in front of her and her back against the hard metal. She watched the sun rise over the horizon as if a string were pulling it upwards. It was the first time she'd done that in years. The orange beams of light that spread over the earth and touched upon the ground was almost too perfect of a way to start the morning. But then, as the clouds drifted apart and the rays beat down on top of ambulances and cars parked in triage lanes, it didn't seem so perfect.

She'd stepped out for some air around six o'clock. Henry was still asleep and so was Regina. The brunette had meant to close her eyes for only a moment and Emma hadn't the heart to wake her up. Regina needed the rest. Hell, they all did. It'd been a whirlwind day for the three of them, Regina and Emma especially. It still hadn't quite hit her, what the doctor had told them. Dr. Whale's diagnoses repeated over and over again in Emma's head, but it still wasn't clicking. She heard the woman, but she wasn't understanding her.

As Emma leaned against the stiff surface, wrapped up in her leather jacket, she bore witness to the various patients brought in on stretchers. She saw blood-stained clothing fall to on the cement and she heard paramedics relay vital signs to residents. Red lights flashed as the sirens blared and tires screeched as the driver's slammed on the breaks. All of the people brought in were suffering from some sort of injury or wound, something that could be fixed with a routine surgery or stitches. They were the easy cases. They would never have to face the same truth Emma and Regina would break to Henry. They were the lucky ones.

Emma leaned forward and dug her elbows into her knees until she lost feeling in her legs. She folded her hands under her chin and looked as if she were praying, when really, she was trying not to cry. Rocking on her heels, all she could think about was the day Henry had been born.

"Emma," an exhausted mother said, her shoes scuffing against the concrete. Regina gently tapped the blonde's shoulder, painfully aware of how tired she was as well. "He's awake." When Emma didn't move to get up, Regina added, "He's asking for you."

For a moment, Emma debated whether or not to respond. She thought it'd be easier to ignore the woman, to act as if she hadn't heard her. That's what she wanted to do with the last several days: act as if none of it had happened. "I can't," she blurted out before she realized she'd even opened her mouth. The last time she'd uttered those word to Regina, the last time she'd meant it, had been nearly 11 years ago. They hurt just as much now as they had that day.

Her heart dropping to her stomach, Regina had been fearing this much. She knew Emma wasn't good in a crisis, not anymore; not since Henry had been born. Sure, the Emma could hold her own in a fight, but when it came to the emotional aspects of a predicament, she was as helpful as dirt. "Emma, I swear to God, if you don't come back inside and talk to Henry—"

"And tell him what?" Emma growled at the brunette, her eyes ablaze with fury. "That he's got cancer? That he's one of those kids? That he'll never—"

"Dammit!" Regina stomped a foot angrily, her cheeks turning bright red. She was not going to get into this right now, not when there was so much they didn't know. Whatever Emma had been fretting about, Regina was going to see to it that it was proven wrong— that Emma would be proven wrong. "Henry is waiting for you." In a softer, more compassionate tone she rephrased it and said— though it killed her to do so—, "Your son is waiting for you."

Like a child being instructed to go into the corner, Emma stood up begrudgingly and waited for Regina to lead the way. With every inch that they gained, with every step closer that she came, she had the growing urge to turn back and run. That's what she'd always done— what she used to do. It's what she'd been so good at for so many years. But not anymore, not now. She couldn't. It was as if Regina had her under a spell, one she couldn't break free from; an invisible chain was tied around her torso and pulled her forward. Emma trudged on past the children with powder-blue masks and mothers with permanently-puffy eyes until she arrived at Henry's curtain. She couldn't see him, but she could hear him chatting along to, what she assumed was, a nurse.

"If I had a superpower, I'd wanna fly! Like the Human Torch… but without the fire. Maybe with the fire. I don't like flames, so maybe without. It would be so cool!" Henry exclaimed, sounding more energetic than he had the day before. Regina pulled the curtain aside and hid behind a fake smile. Emma tried to do the same, but she wasn't as good as an actress as the brunette, and Henry knew it. "Emma! You're here! I thought you'd left or someth— are you ok?" Free of his plastic beak, the boy frowned at the blonde curiously. He didn't seem to be bothered by the various machines he was plugged into. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the attention from the lady in yellow scrubs; Penny, her name tag read.

Elbowing Emma in the ribs, Regina glowered at her. "Don't worry about me, Kid. You're the one who scared us shitless." She looked over at Regina with gritted teeth, an expression that asked, "Good enough?"

"Sorry," Henry replied automatically, cowering under Emma's glare, though it wasn't meant for him. How was he supposed to know that she was mad at Regina and not him?

Tossing an arm around her son's neck, Regina pulled him in close for a hug and let the warmth from her own body flow into Henry's. "No apologies necessary, dear." She kissed the top of his, now dry, head and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Now, are you hungry? I'm sure we can find you something edible in this place. It might not taste as good as my cooking, but we can make do."

Jumping in unannounced, Penny sheepishly crashed their party. "I'm sorry. He's on a liquid-only diet until Dr. Whale examines him. But, we've got popsicles if that's all right with you."

Nodding eagerly, Henry answered the question meant for his parent(s), "That's fine with me!"

Regina chuckled softly, a semi-forced reaction. "You heard him," she sighed.

"I'll be back with those in a few minutes," Penny assured before disappearing around the bend.

Emma had been keeping her distance since returning from the outdoors, her thumbs in her belt loops, swaying from side-to-side slightly. Henry looked much better than he had just hours ago: his color was back, his eyes stopped watering, and his ears perked up whenever he heard his name. It was a mystery to Emma how a kid could look so healthy and yet…

"Well, good morning, young sir," a friendly voice permeated through the veil. A white sleeve with a small hand pushed through the drapes as Dr. Whale made her grand appearance. In the daylight, and under less urgent circumstances, she was actually quite stunning. Tan-skinned with piercing hazel eyes, Veronica was no ordinary physician— not like the ones Emma had seen on TV: she was even more attractive than those actors. And yet, with that beauty came an overwhelming amount of brains. For some reason she couldn't explain, Regina found herselt trusting Whale completely. "I see you've already got our staff waiting on you hand and foot," she winked.

"I'm sorry," Henry said again, unsure of what else to say. Comfortable under his mother's wing, he shook the doctor's hand hesitantly with his own, the one that wasn't connected to the IV.

"Don't be," Whale dismissed. "You're handsome enough that they don't mind." She grinned at her patient as he blushed, his ears turning the same color as her hair. Her own daughter a few years Henry's senior, she'd started to forget how innocent pre-teens could be. "Henry, I need to check a couple more things. Is it ok if I listen to your heart for a second?" she asked as she reached for her stethoscope. Henry nodded earnestly, though he wasn't quite aware of what he was agreeing to. Nevertheless, he was a model patient. Instead of showing fear or cringing away from her touch, Henry did everything he could to make Whale's job that much easier. By the time they were finished, Penny had returned with a handful of wrapped treats. "Everything looks good," Dr. Whale said with a tight-smile. Penny passed along the treasures and soon, Henry was lost in the cherry popsicle he'd just uncovered. Each burst of flavor caused his stomach to growl even louder, but he made a point not to complain. Regina always told him that only little ones complained. "Henry, would you be all right if I talked to these two for a few minutes? Penny'll stay with you until I get back." She made a quick note in his chart that solid foods were to be withheld for another two hours.

When Henry tilted his chin slightly, Veronica took it as a confirmation and motioned for Emma and Regina to follow her. "We'll be right back," Regina promised.

Briskly walking down the hallway, Dr. Whale lead them to the same room they'd previously met in. It'd been hours since their last visit, but for Henry's mothers, it may as well have only been seconds. They sat in the same seats, in the same order, all of them wearing the same clothes. Regina braced herself for the news they were about to hear, while Emma struggled to focus. With every page that Whale turned in Henry's file, their anticipating mounted to new heights.

"Right," Dr. Whale began, "clearly, Henry is feeling a lot better. His heart sounds good, as well as his breathing, which is obvious by the lack of his mask. His blood pressure is a bit high, but that's to be expected in anyone who wakes up in a hospital with no memory of getting there."

Her arms folded over her chest, Emma shut her eyes momentarily. "Just cut to the chase."

Although she understood the blonde's frustration, Dr. Whale was doing her best to remain as professional and as sympathetic as possible. From within the folder, she pulled out a paper soaked in medical jargon and circled all of the important pieces before pushing it across the table. Emma and Regina leaned over the document and nearly butted heads as they began to read it— at least, they tried to read it. It was all a foreign language to them. "The left column is what's average for children Henry's age and the right column is Henry's results. As you can see, his numbers are all over the place, especially his white blood cell count."

"We know he's sick. What we want to know is how we can make him better again," Emma grunted. Her simplistic view on it all was the only way she was staying sane.

"You mentioned something about treatment options, that there are a lot since Henry's so young?" Regina asked, hopeful that this could be fixed so easily.

Pulling her notepad out from under the file, Dr. Whale scribbled Henry's name at the very top and stared intently at the women. "First thing's first: I need you to give me a run-down of family illnesses, anything you can think of."

Unable to answer, though she wished desperately she could have, Regina looked to Emma. "I don't know," Emma said sourly. "I was adopted."

Dr. Whale wrote down "adopted" in shorthand, all the while keeping a straight face. "And the father? What about him?"

Again, Regina listened for her friend to take control. But, it wasn't that easy. For Emma, it was as if someone had just shoved a knife through her chest and twisted it. She felt the release of air from her body and graze over her lips as she replied with a dejected, "I don't know."

Without warning, Regina clamped down on Emma's arm tight enough to leave fingerprints: she just had an idea. "You can find out."

"What do you me— what? No, Gina, I thought you said—"

"You don't have to tell him why! You can make something up!"

"But, I thought we agreed—"

Raising her hand timidly, Dr. Whale waved at the two of them. "I don't mean to interrupt, but you should be aware that, before we can start anything, my team and I have to know a family history— as much as you can give us. If you truly don't have information, we can work around it, though it's helpful if we have a baseline."

Letting go of Emma's arm, Regina grabbed Emma's hand and begged with her friend. "I know what I said, but that was yesterday, before… before this. Please, Emma, we don't have any other choice."

Her gaze transfixed on a scratch in the waxed wood, Emma clenched her jaw and counted to 10. When she wasn't calm by then, she continued on to 20, then 30, 40 and then 50. It was only when she reached 60 that she relaxed in Regina's grip. Had they not been in the presence of a doctor, Emma surely would have exploded at the contact.

With both Dr. Whale and Regina waiting for her answer, she knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the two. Emma was backed into a corner, and it was getting smaller and smaller every second.

A/N - I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I felt bad leaving two weeks between the last update and this one, considering how I left it. But, here it is! I'll be back ASAP, folks! If you can, please leave a review and let me know what's working/what's not. It's really helpful!