Sorry for the delay with this update. I ran into some technical difficulties.

"So, Emma's pretty," Moira stated, as she slid into Killian's car later that afternoon.

She'd enjoyed her own coffee while Henry had sipped at his hot chocolate and torn into a couple of doughnuts. But the young boy had started yawning before he could finish his drink, and they'd both felt it was only polite to leave so that he could get some rest. Henry hadn't let either of them go without awkward hugs to avoid the wires taped to his body, and a promise that they'd be back to see him soon. A promise that Moira and Killian both easily made, and fully intended to keep.

"Yes, she is." Her son's tone gave nothing away, and if anyone else had been in the car with them, they could have been forgiven for believing that he was more focused on the road than the topic of conversation at hand.

But Moira knew him better.

"She could use a night out, don't you think? The poor girl probably hasn't had one in years."

"Seriously, Ma?" Killian scoffed, as he finally pulled his eyes away from the window screen to flick an annoyed glare in her direction before he turned back to focus on the road. "Her son's lying in a hospital bed with a deadly disease that's slowly killing him. I'm pretty sure dating is at the bottom of Emma's list of priorities right now."

"Don't be so morbid, Killian. People are helping. Henry will find a donor," she snapped back. Her tone told him that there was absolutely no room for argument in that statement, but it wasn't necessary. Killian had no intention of arguing with her beliefs because while he didn't know the family well, the idea of something happening to Henry had him blinking back the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"And I wasn't suggesting a date," she continued, a little calmer. "I was merely suggesting some time away from everything to just let her hair down and relax for a bit. You're the one with dating on your mind."

Of course she'd turned that around on him. He should have seen that one coming.

"I don't have dating on my mind, Ma. I just wanna help Henry and Emma as best I can. That's all."

Moira said nothing else, but Killian could tell from the look on her face that this certainly wasn't the end of that discussion.

When he had finished training on Friday afternoon, Killian stopped off at the best bakery in the city, before he made the drive over to the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital. He knew that Emma usually brought back lunch for Henry, so he didn't want to step on her toes in that respect. But he figured the boxes of doughnuts would be a nice middle ground, and a great way to treat everyone else on the ward.

After all, who didn't like doughnuts?

But when he knocked on the familiar door to Henry's room and poked his head around the doorframe, the sight of the unoccupied space made him freeze in his tracks.

"Are you lost?"

Killian pulled his eyes away from the empty bed to focus on the woman who was sat at the small table near the window, knitting something that looked like a scarf.

"I'm looking for Henry Swan."

"They have a children's entertainer come into the hospital every Friday. Belle took him down to see the show while he was feeling up to it. They should be back soon."

"Oh, thank god," he mumbled, as he made his way into the room and sat one of the boxes of treats down onto the table over Henry's bed. When his hands were free he gently wiped them over the jeans he'd changed into, before extending one in the older woman's direction. "I'm Killian."

"Mary-Margaret," she replied, returning his shake firmly. "I'm Emma's mother."

"Of course. You're a teacher, right? She's mentioned you before."

"Most days, yes," she chuckled. "I've traded my teaching hat for the day to sit with Henry. Emma's a little under the weather and she didn't want him to be alone this morning."

"Oh no. Is she okay?" Killian dropped down into the seat next to Henry's bed and propped his chin into his left hand.

"She got a little sick last night. It's probably nothing serious, but Henry has a severely weakened immune system. So it's better for her to be at home and away from him until it passes."

"Jesus, I never even thought about that," he muttered. Killian was generally a pretty healthy person. His training regimen and strict diet helped in that respect. But he'd remember to make sure that he stayed away from Henry if he even so much as sneezed from that moment on. "It must kill her being away from her lad," he added, as a quiet afterthought.

"It's certainly not easy. But it's better than the alternative."

Killian raised his eyes to meet Mary-Margaret's and nodded his agreement. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he were the reason Henry got sicker, so he could certainly understand why Emma had chosen to stay away.

"Is there uh… can I do anything for her? I um… we have an excellent team of doctors if she needs to see anyone? Or I could send her some soup or something so she doesn't have to worry about cooking while she's feeling unwell?"

"I'm sure she's fine," her mother assured him. "Thank you for the offers. Emma said that you were a sweet guy, but I have to admit that I had my doubts."

Killian raised a brow in question and she huffed out a chuckle, before finally dropping her knitting project down to the tabletop.

"My husband's been a football fan for as long as I've known him," she explained. "And as a police officer in this city…"

"He's policed game days before," Killian supplied for her. Because of course he had. Why hadn't he put that information together when Emma had first told him about her parents?

"Yes. And as such, he's been privy to a few different incidents over the years. Around half of them are either initiated by player conduct on the pitch or exacerbated by it. So when she said that you were offering to spend time with Henry, I was a little sceptical about your motives."

"I can assure you, Mrs. Swan, my motives are nothing but genuine."

"I'm beginning to see that."

A slight commotion out in the hallway drew their attention over to the open door, and Killian's smile widened when Henry was pushed through it and into his room by a vaguely familiar looking nurse. The young boy was in a wheelchair, with all of his usual wires and tubes attached to large poles on either side of the back of his seat. But he was wearing one of the United training shirts that Killian had nabbed for him earlier that week, with the number ten and SWAN printed onto it in the official font for the season. And tucked around his legs was the red crested blanket.

"Hey, Lad. How was your morning?" Killian asked, as he stood and pushed his own seat back a little to let the nurse get as close to Henry's bed as she could. She took the blanket from his lap and draped it over the table, but Killian had his own hands extended to help Henry from his wheelchair before she could.

"It was good," he said, as he allowed his idol to pull him up to his feet. Killian kept a tight grip on his arms as Henry shuffled his way over to the bed, and then pulled himself up and into the middle of it.

Belle could tell when she wasn't needed, and called out a cheery, "see you later, Henry," before she left room to let his grandmother tuck the sheets around him once more, as a premier league footballer helped position his pillows for him.

"They had a magician this time. But he wasn't as good as Dynamo."

Killian chuckled as he took a seat at the end of Henry's bed. "I'll tell him you said that the next time I see him."

"You know Dynamo?" Henry asked, his eyes widening with his surprise.

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

"Mum doesn't like him. She says he freaks her out."

"That's only because he's so good at what he does." Killian winked conspiratorially, and Henry started giggling. "I'll take you to see one of his show when you're feeling better," he promised. "Maybe we could change your mother's mind if she sees his work in person?"

"Definitely!"

Neither of the men in the room noticed as Mary-Margaret slipped her knitting back into her bag and picked up her jacket from the back of her seat. She could also tell when she wasn't needed, so she wanted to slip away and check on her daughter, while Henry was distracted. As Killian told her grandson about how training for the Manchester derby was going that weekend, she made her way over to the door and threw a casual, "I'll be back in a few hours, Henry," over her shoulder.

But she wasn't entirely sure either of the guys had heard what she'd said.

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