My apologies that it has taken me so long to get some updates posted on my WIP stories. I've had this chapter written for a few weeks but with the holidays and the onset of peak season at work, I've had little time to get around to typing and editing. This chapter focuses primarily on Emma, giving some insight into how she is dealing with their difficult situation and yes, there's lots of angst ahead...
If she'd really been looking at the sky, the brilliant colors of the desert sunset might have caught her attention. Instead, Emma was only staring at the window, oblivious to the display of pinks, reds, purples and grays that Mother Nature was putting on beyond the glass. It had been hours since Grandmother and Carlos left and the loneliness was beginning to wear on her again. She'd read a text message from her father a few minutes ago, asking her to call home as soon as possible, but she wasn't ready to make that call yet. The nurses were pretty strict about not using her cell phone in the room, a rule that Emma found quite annoying, especially when keeping in touch with their family was so important right now. She needed updates regarding the man stalking them and truthfully, needed to hear their voices because it was crucial to clinging to her sanity. Were they afraid that she might wake Killian up? That was precisely what she wanted to accomplish right now.
She tapped out a quick response to David saying she would call later even as she was telling herself she probably should make the short walk over to the guest lounge in the other side of the elevators, but she just couldn't convince herself to leave Killian alone. What if he woke up while she wasn't there and was disoriented? He wouldn't know where he was and might react adversely to his arm being restrained. He would be searching for her familiar face or straining to hear the sound of her voice. He had been showing subtle, but promising signs that he might wake soon - little twitches here and there - so she didn't dare leave him yet. Not until he woke and she could tell him everything was okay – even if it wasn't.
And the absolute truth was, he wasn't okay. Even after several blood tests, the doctors hadn't uncovered anything more than a minor bacterial infection which they'd begun treating with a different antibiotic; but even combined with fever-reducing medication, Killian's core temperature remained above 102 degrees. It just wouldn't budge and Emma was already fearing that this unknown infection was going to be as stubborn as Killian Jones himself.
With scarcely any charge left on her phone's battery, she fished through the backpack at her feet to locate the cord Joseph had given her yesterday, thankful when her fingers finally came in contact with it as she feared it may have been forgotten during the cacophony of the morning's events. It took a moment to find a useable electrical outlet in the tiny hospital room, spotting one beneath the very window she'd been staring at for the better part of the past hour. At least it was easily accessible and the sill was wide enough to hold her phone so she didn't have to place it on the floor. One little bright spot to this crappy day…
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Emma pulled the cord that drew the vertical blinds closed so she'd no longer see her own haggard reflection in the glass. Night number two was now upon them and while she was trying to remain optimistic about Killian's recovery now that the dagger shard was safely out of his body, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling that his current state may have more to do with complications than an infection. Her eyes immediately darted to that offending piece of metal which sat, seemingly innocently, in the specimen jar Dr. Pineda had given her earlier.
What were they missing? Grandmother steadfastly believed that Killian was being attacked by evil spirits and as ridiculous as that sounded, they'd certainly experienced far stranger things – shadows, wraiths, giants, flying monkeys and hell, even a humongous snowman! Would the possibility of even spirits really be that much of a stretch?
She settled back down into the faux leather chair at her husband's bedside, unconsciously scraping at a loose piece of vinyl with her index fingernail when she heard the unexpected sounds – a sudden acceleration of the beeping coming from the machine measuring Killian's heart rate and a rapid, deep inhale as he abruptly came to. His eyes were open wide as his brain scrambled to make sense of his surroundings but they lacked their usual brilliance, appearing slightly more grey than blue in this light.
Emma quickly slid closer to him, taking hold of his hand to offer a bit of reassurance – and to temper any possible panic if he attempted to move that hand and wasn't able to. It took a few seconds for his gaze to meet hers and there was no mistaking the confusion and hint of fear she witnessed in his stare.
"I'm right here," she stated with a loving smile on her face and the calmest tone her voice could manage. "It's okay…"
He seemed to look through her for a moment until at last, a glint of recognition appeared. "Swan?"
"Yes, I'm right here." She could hear the electronic blip slowing as his anxiety settled and his heart stopped racing. She wondered what was going through his head right now.
"Where am I?" he asked. She'd expected that he would be disoriented when he woke so the question was hardly surprising.
"You're in the hospital recovering from surgery," she replied.
"Hospital?" Her response didn't seem to have cleared any of his confusion.
"Yes. A hospital near Phoenix. They repaired the damage from when you were stabbed." She hoped the additional reminder would aid his recollection, but instead, he only appeared more bewildered – especially when she mentioned Phoenix.
"Phoenix? What does that bloody bird have to do with my whereabouts?"
Wow, she thought, he must be under the influence of some really good drugs. "Not the bird. Phoenix is a city."
"City? Are we not in Storybrooke?"
He didn't remember falling through a portal? "No, we're not in Storybrooke. We're a long way from home…"
That statement didn't sit well with him, but he lacked the energy to argue. He was just very tired, very sore and for some reason, very chilly. "Why am I so cold?"
The question seemed a huge contradiction to the fever plaguing him, but the nurse had warned Emma that he might experience chills so she had brought a few extra blankets. It also seemed to be counter-intuitive to combating the fever, but keeping him comfortable must have been equally important.
"The nurse thought you might feel that way. Let me grab one of the blankets she brought for you." She hopped to her feet and took two long strides over to the counter where Bernadette had placed two lightweight, peachy-beige plush blankets. Emma grabbed the one on top and draped it over the light blue one that was already covering Killian's lower body before pulling all of the bedcovers up to his shoulders. "There. That should be better."
He mumbled something unintelligible while she attempted to fluff the pillows behind his head a little, but she paused when her fingers brushed his cheek. He might be feeling chilled, but his skin was still warm to her touch. He turned his head slightly, resting his chin against her now open palm as she watched his eyelids droop. It wasn't long before unconsciousness claimed him once again and as he faded back into that oblivion, she let out a deep sigh realizing she was going to be in for another very long night.
Shortly after he succumbed to sleep, the evening nurse, whose name escaped Emma's memory, arrived with a slew of questions about his brief period of consciousness. Emma tried her best to answer all of them while the nurse tended to Killian, replacing the nearly empty bag of IV fluids and administering another dose of medication in hopes of lowering his lingering fever. Emma really didn't have all of the answers the nurse wanted. She didn't recall how long he was awake – five, maybe ten minutes. The nurse wanted to know if he'd seemed disoriented or confused and her answer to both of those had been a definitive yes. Emma had gotten the impression that Killian didn't even remember being stabbed but she chose not to mention it at this time since she knew there were so many other factors that might be coming into play here. His recollection of events might be a little foggy but he obviously had good reason.
By the time the nurse left, Emma had come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to leave him alone for a few minutes, unable to ignore her stomach's rumbling any longer. It was also time for her to call and update the family as well so once she'd purchased some pasta for dinner at the cafeteria, she wandered out to her favorite spot in the outdoor garden. Shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth, she dug her now fully charged phone from her pocket and dialed her father's number.
"Emma, honey, how are you doing?" Emma looked down at her screen to verify that she'd dialed her father's number when a different voice answered.
"Uh…, hi, Mom," Emma stammered, not expecting to hear her mother's voice. "Not much has changed here. Where's Dad?"
"He just got home from the station and went to change out of his wet clothes. It's been pouring rain here." Emma heard a slight rustling sound, then a muffled shout: "David…it's Emma!" as Snow called for her husband. "Sorry, honey, he'll be a minute. While I have you on the phone, why don't you tell me how Killian is doing? Your father told me that the tip of the dagger was lodged in his spine so we're all really worried about him…"
"It wasn't actually lodged in his spine, it was next to it, but thankfully, the nerve damage was minor. He's sleeping now, but he's still critical. They keep saying that the first 24 hours post-surgery could be rough and he's already running a fever. I just don't know, Mom…"
"He's pulled through worse than this," Snow reminded her, hoping to offer her daughter a little bit of reassurance but it wasn't really helping Emma as she couldn't recall any situation that he'd survived without magical intervention – except maybe the loss of his hand, but even that incident had involved Rumplestiltskin, so it wasn't the best example. "I'm sure he's going to pull through this just fine and we'll get you both back home very soon…" Snow continued with her pep talk, but Emma had already zoned out, not really hearing much more of what her mother was saying until she was wrapping it up. "Anyway, here's your father. Tell Killian that we hope he heals up quickly!"
"Thanks, Mom. I'll tell him the next time he's awake," Emma replied, although mostly to appease her ever-positive mother. Emma herself wasn't yet convinced that everything was going to turn out for the best.
"Overheard your mother giving you one of her patented Snow White pep talks," David said as he took over the phone.
"Guess she figured I needed one…"
"I wish we could be there with you, Emma," he lamented, his heart breaking at the sound of the sorrow in his daughter's voice. "Has there been any change?"
"Nothing really since I texted you," she informed him. "He woke up briefly, but seemed really confused. Don't think he even remembered that he'd been stabbed, but that could be the effect of the drugs. I just wish they could figure out what's causing his fever and get it to break. He just seems really sick right now and no one seems to know how to help him…"
"I might have an idea of what that might be…" David began, trying to come up with a way to best phrase what Regina suspected.
"An idea about what, Dad?"
"About what's making your husband sicker…"
"You do?" Emma asked skeptically.
"Regina came by the station earlier to get the dagger," David explained. "Belle wanted to get a better look at the symbols carved into it to help her try to figure out where it and the scepter might have originated. Anyway, as soon as Regina touched the dagger, she told me it was giving off a lot of powerful dark magic vibes."
"Dark magic? What would that have to do with Killian's fever?" Emma's tired mind wasn't making the connection.
"I told her about the broken piece that the doctors had to remove from Hook's chest and about the complications you'd mentioned. Regina thinks his symptoms might be residual dark magic that's manifesting itself somehow in the Land Without Magic. She said it could appear like an illness…"
"Which could include fever and chills like he's fighting now," Emma finished his statement, massaging her temples with her thumb and index finger while this new development sunk in. "So, how did she say to treat it?"
"You're going to have to call Regina on that front. She said something about putting together a potion that would help keep the dark magic at bay, but you really should talk to her to get more details."
"No wonder Grandmother Bending Willow thought that Killian was being attacked by evil spirits. Maybe she's somehow able to sense the dark magic?" Emma speculated.
"Maybe she is, but you'd best give Regina a call in the morning so she can give you more of the specifics. It sounded to me like there wouldn't be a way to cure him until you got back to Storybrooke, but at least whatever she's working on will help fight the symptoms."
"Okay, I know it's late back there so I'll let you go. I'll call Regina first thing in the morning and then I'll let you know what's going on. I'm going to head back up to my husband now so I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say goodnight to Mom for me too."
"Promise me you'll get some rest?"
"I promise you that I'll try. I'm really hoping for an uneventful night…"
"Okay, then. Talk to you tomorrow." David disconnected the call, but Emma stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds, almost too numb to move.
Dark magic. Even out here in what was supposed to be the Land Without Magic, it taunted her and without her own light magic to combat it, all she would be able to find would be temporary fixes. If Regina was able to create a potion that would halt its progress, it would certainly be an improvement. Maybe it would buy them a little additional time until they could somehow get back home. She knew what dark magic did. It infected, it consumed and it destroyed everything it touched and the mere thought of such darkness coursing through Killian's veins once again was terrifying, especially since he had absolutely no idea what was afflicting him.
Grandmother had warned of evil spirits attacking and in her own way, she was correct. Dark magic was like an evil spirit and the sooner she could exorcise it from her husband's body, the better, and she had a feeling she was going to need to enlist the old woman's help.
Emma's night became a restless one, made even more nerve-racking with the revelation that Killian could be under the influence of dark magic. She was rapidly failing in her attempts to remain positive. Several times during the night, she'd resisted the urge to call her parents, not wanting to sound desperate for their support even though it was exactly what she needed. Maybe it was partially rooted in fear that another of her mother's pep talks would turn her stomach, but in the back of her mind, she knew what was stopping her: she didn't want to remain positive. She wanted to wallow in remorse and sadness because she was feeling useless right now and she was slowly sensing herself being dragged into the pit of despair.
She was continually reminded that she'd spent most of her life not even knowing magic existed. While nothing had obviously gone perfectly, she'd managed to survive without supernatural powers. She'd always had her wits to rely on and they'd gotten her through the first 28 years of her life. Why then did she now feel so helpless without her powers? She knew she shouldn't feel as though part of herself was missing, yet in reality, a big part was. It was the portion of her heart that kept breaking every time she glanced over at her husband. His suffering was the constant reminder of her current inadequacy; she couldn't heal him, couldn't whisk away the dark magic infecting him.
By the time morning arrived, Emma was still exhausted, amazed she'd managed any sleep at all after witnessing Killian caught in the grip of yet another seizure brought on by another spike in his body temperature. Before the medication and cold compresses had begun to take effect, his fever had topped out at 105 degrees, lowered now to just under 103. Doctors and nurses had been in and out all night, warning her that Killian risked permanent damage if the fever didn't break soon. If they only knew what he was actually facing… The unnatural evil was spreading through Killian's body like a malignancy and it was gradually tightening its grip.
At least he appeared to be sleeping peacefully at the moment, she thought as she arched her back and tried to stretch out her aches and pains. A night spent sleeping a chair that didn't really recline hadn't been a pleasant experience, but she'd happily bear any discomfort if it meant she could remain by Killian's side.
She squinted at the painfully bright Arizona sun peeking through the vertical blinds. Before the glare became unbearable, she stood up and made her way to the window to close the blinds once again, not even certain when they'd been reopened. As she returned to the chair, she noticed that the beaded leather medicine pouch Grandmother had brought for Killian had fallen onto the floor, ending up beneath the nightstand likely during the chaos of the seizure. Emma dropped to her knees to retrieve the pouch and immediately noticed that the drawstrings had loosened, allowing one of the turquoise stones to tumble out. Scooping up both the pouch and the stray stone, she took at quick look at the contents inside the leather bag as she pushed herself back to her feet. There were two additional pieces of turquoise as well as a pair of other rocks she couldn't identify and upon closer inspection, she noticed one of the unidentified rocks had been carved into the shape of a bird.
She tucked the turquoise stone back into the pouch and tugged the drawstring closed. Her first thought was to place it atop the nightstand, but as she sat the leather bag onto the surface, her brain instantly told her NO. It belonged atop Killian's chest - over his heart where Grandmother had placed it and that was where Emma returned it. She wasn't taking any chances with these evil spirits or this dark magic. She may not understand the Navajo woman's methods, but they could use every bit of help they could get.
Emma needed to talk to Regina this morning to find out more about the supposed potion she was brewing and how it was progressing and also to see if Belle had discovered anything else about the strange symbols on the scepter and the dagger. Had anyone figured out what the significance of the Blood Moon was? She had so many questions but figured there would likely be far fewer answers.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, I promise," she said as she stooped to place a kiss on her pirate's sweat-dampened forehead. "Maybe you'll wake up to talk to me for a little while when I get back?" She knew it was just wishful thinking but she clung to a little bit of hope.