So I couldn't sleep. I wrote one more chapter to tide you over. Hope you aren't ready to kill me yet. Answering a few questions that have come up - Are you killing Killian? Is Elsa still looking for Anna? Is Emma pregnant? Is the Snow Queen really gone?
1. I'm not killing Killian. I could never do that.
2. Yes, Elsa is still looking for Anna. She's just not doing that much in my fic because how much can you write about it?
3. Ummmmmm...I can't really answer that right now.
4. Hard to say. Rumple's not really a reliable witness.
Disclaimer: If I did own these characters, there would probably be a riot at my house for what I'm doing to Killian right now.
She's falling. That was all she can think as she stands there next to the admissions desk at the hospital and taps her foot angrily waiting on someone to call for Dr. Whale. Her father stood behind her, practicing his stern and princely glares at any person who wore a nametag or uniform. Her mother and Elsa had staked out chairs in the corner away from the door and noise of the television. And while she was appreciative of their presence, she was more interested in finding a way to help Killian.
"He's in surgery," the woman behind the counter said, clutching a clipboard as though it might contain the answers to questions about the meaning of life. "I can't say any more than that."
Emma frowned, her arms folded and an indignant stare on her face. "Can't or won't?" she asked. "I want to know about his condition. Is that too hard to answer," she looked at the nametag, "Carly?"
"I don't know anything more than is written on this chart," the woman said, her voice and body shaking. "I'm sorry. I just don't."
Emma felt her father's hands tug her away from the desk, his voice sure and steady as he explained that he was leaving her there with her mother and friend so that he could go back to the scene of the incident. "We'll catch who did this, Emma," he told her. "I promise you."
But for once in her life she was not thinking of laws or perpetrators. She did not find comfort in the idea of someone sitting behind bars while Killian was upstairs in surgery, away from her, and fighting for his life. She had seen him injured before. His cracked voice calling her beautiful as he joked about it hurting when he laughed. She had taunted him then, calling him a dead man. But this was different. When she had received the call to come to a hit and run scene, she had scribbled a note for him that she would be right back. She just needed to make sure Robin could hand it.
He didn't get the note. He was there when she arrived, crumpled, bleeding, and unconscious. She screamed his name, tears coming so fast and furious that she felt blinded by them. She wasn't sure who brought her to the hospital or how she arrived, but she was there now. And it felt no better.
"Emma," her mother said. "Can we get you anything? Coffee? A magazine?"
How could anything help? She thought to herself the number of times she had delivered bad news to people. She always offered them something to ease the pain and tension, but in that moment she'd never realized she had not done it for them. She had done it for herself. She'd done it to feel useful and needed. But she did what everyone else did and shook her head, marveling that her mother seemed more relieved at the offer than her denial.
Elsa was quiet, her face crumpled occasionally into tears, white snowflakes dancing around her. She would shake her head and wave them away just as easily as wiping away a tear. She looked relatively fragile herself as she rubbed her own arms and perked up each time a man or woman in a white coat walked through.
"This is taking forever," Emma said, her voice unsure. "But maybe that's good?"
Mary Margaret nodded. "I'm sure it is," she said. "They wouldn't be spending so much time if there wasn't hope." She looked back down at her hands. "I should call Aurora and…Regina. I'll check on Neal and Henry." She stood and looked down at the other two women, both forlornly staring in opposite directions, neither speaking. Hesitantly, she excused herself to go outside.
"I'm sorry, Emma," Elsa said in one large exhale. "If I hadn't tried to get you guys to have a romantic date, you would both be at home and safe. I didn't realize…"
"It's not your fault," Emma said. "If you get to blame yourself for wanting time alone, I can blame myself for making him pick me up at my parents. I could have easily just met him at wherever we were going to go." She was startled as a siren screeched outside the emergency room entrance, its red lights interrupting the yellowish glow of the room.
Elsa swallowed, her long fingers digging into her arms. "I'm not sure what I can do to help," she said. "There must be something."
Emma shook her head, the long curls that her mother had painstakingly perfected were no longer unspoiled. Her makeup streaked from her tears, as her dress wrinkled as she sat. "I wish I knew," she whispered. "He's got to be okay."
Thoughts of his strength and promises of survival crossed her mind, but they all seemed superficial and unneeded. He was up there fighting without her. An unseen enemy had done this. That left her more helpless than she realized she could feel. Graham and Neal's deaths had been mercifully fast, no lingering doubts as she could have clung to false hope.
"Ms. Swan," a man said, his eyes questioning and his demeanor unsure. "Are you Ms. Swan?"
Emma stood, rubbed her palms on the dress, and stared ahead. "Yes, are you his doctor?" she questioned. For a moment she wondered which character and story he was associated with in the Enchanted Forest. Maybe her parents would know. "How is he?"
"He made it through the surgery," the man said, pushing his wire rimmed glasses up his nose. "His injuries are quite severe."
Elsa stood with her friend, gripping her shoulder as if to hold her up. "How severe?" Emma asked, feeling the floor move with her.
"There was some damage to his chest, most specifically his lungs, but that was probably one of the easiest to repair," the older gentleman said. "And he has several fractures and breaks. We've inserted pins into his legs and performed a similar repair on his shoulder. With physical therapy and time to recover, he should have full use again soon."
The breath she had been holding eased out slowly. Her eyes blinked back the tears that threatened to overflow again. "Sounds like he was lucky," she gasped.
"We have some concerns about brain injuries," the doctor said, his voice lower than it had been. "There is some swelling of the brain and some fluid. We'll have to get a better look through and MRI, but for now we're monitoring his condition."
"Can I see him?" Emma asked, not wanting to process the list of injuries and treatments. She just wanted to hold his hand, see his blue eyes, and listen to him laugh at her concern over him as his ego swelled with its knowledge. "Please."
The doctor frowned. "Not yet," he said. "You're not directly family and I shouldn't be out here telling you this at all. He's in ICU right now. Once we get him to a regular room, perhaps then…"
Shaking off Elsa's grip, Emma felt the rage tear through her body. "I want to see him," she said firmly. "I must…"
Again the doctor frowned at her. "I can't allow that yet. Maybe when he wakes up…"
Elsa grabbed Emma's shoulder again and spun her to the door. "Henry's here," she said. "You need to put on your bravest face for him. He needs you to be strong." As Emma stared at her son's fast approach, she did not hear of see the doctor walk away. Her son launched himself into her arms.
"How is he?" Henry asked, sounding just as demanding as his birth mother. "He's going to be okay, right? Mom?"
Emma could not make any words form as she pulled him tight against her, both arms circling around him and the tears falling again. She looked up to see Regina standing there, a bag in hand and her brown eyes looking remarkably sympathetic. "Henry let me in your apartment to get some clothes for you," she explained, dropping the bag on an empty chair. "Didn't think you'd want to sit here all night in your date clothes."
"Thank you," Emma said, still clinging to Henry. "Thank you." She made a short list of Killian's injuries for her son, not dwelling on the unknowns.
"Mom?" Henry asked Regina, his face hopeful like his grandmother's normal expression. "You can help, right? You can fix this."
Regina licked her bottom lip. "Henry," she said warningly. "Honey, it isn't that simple. His injuries weren't caused by magic. That was a manmade incident. I can't fix those things." She gritted her teeth, watching her son cling to Emma as though both holding her up and wanting to be held himself. "Your grandfather is the only person I know capable of that sort of thing…"
"He made it through his surgery," Emma reminded Henry, her hands coming up to grip his face. "He's sleeping right now." Her voice broke as she talked, the words tasting sour and bitter in her mouth. The acid in her stomach burned all the way to her throat as she felt herself fight to avoid vomiting. "He's just sleeping right now."
"Honey," Regina said. "Maybe we should let Emma get some rest too. I'll keep my phone on tonight if there are any updates. And we can stop back by before school. How's that sound?"
Henry twisted his head to look at the woman who had raised him, his eyes shining with fear. "No," he said. "I want to stay. I need to be here for my mom and Killian." He turned his face back to Emma and silently pleaded with her to let him stay.
Elsa was the one to speak up. "Henry," she said. "I'm going to stay with Emma tonight. And tomorrow, you and your grandparents and I can sit down and work out a schedule. Killian is going to be here for a while. So we shouldn't wear ourselves out on the first night. We'll take turns and it will be easier on everyone." She smiled at both mothers, hoping that her words would help him a little bit.
"But you'll call, even if…"
"We'll call you," Elsa said. "I've got a phone now too. So don't worry."
So who hit Killian? What's Emma going to do?