A/N – Well, I think you all think I'm meaner than I actually am! Anyway, I think this one will make you happy... It certainly did me! As usual, thank you all for reading and sticking with me on this journey!

36. Fix

It was dark outside when Doctor Whale finally came through to tell them that the first operation was finished.

Regina had been sitting in the chair in the corner, under the window, where the blinds were open to reveal a sky full of stars, a smudged half-moon shining light in through the glass. She'd brought a book, but every time she opened it she just found herself staring blankly at the pages, or reading the same paragraph over and over again without taking any of it in.

Mary Margaret and David – taking shifts in the other chair – were just as restless. The three of them had said maybe three words to each other every hour, the mayor's nervous chatter died down after the first hour. They took turns to go downstairs on the coffee run, even though Regina was sure she couldn't have slept if she wanted to.

It was a pretty safe operation, by any standards. She told herself that again and again, but still the mass of nerves in her stomach writhed like snakes. It was that horrible helplessness coming over her again. There was nothing she could do. She was very close to getting up and pacing when the door opened with a creak and Whale's familiar bleached head appeared around the door.

Regina, Mary Margaret and David all sat up straighter as he stepped inside. Regina's heart was pounding, book abandoned in her lap. Her breath caught in her throat. She studied the doctor as quick as she could, brown eyes darting from his placid face to his eyes to the hands buried in the pockets of his white coat.

Mary Margaret glanced at her, catching her gaze with wide green eyes.

Regina swallowed hard, setting aside the book and standing up. She glanced from the others to Whale. "Well?" She demanded, voice rough and tired.

"We're all done," Whale assured them. He breathed out, turning to Emma's parents and then to her. For a moment, the little moonlit hospital room was completely still and silent. And then, "The surgery went smoothly. Everything was how it should be, no complications, no difficulty. There's no telling if it's worked yet, but... I'd say we're on the right track. We'll have to keep her in til the morning but she'll be alright."

Regina exhaled, finally. It felt like she'd been holding her breath for hours. Thank God. She stared down at the reflection of moonlight on the polished floor, smallest whisper of a smile on her lips.

"They're just bringing her down now," Whale explained, voice a professional mask. He glanced between the three of them. "She's still unconscious at the minute, but she should come to within a few hours. She'll probably be hungry – the shop downstairs is open all night."

"Thank you," David breathed, normally easy voice almost cracking. Regina glanced across the room at him – there was a smile on his face, and a look in his eyes she'd never seen before. "Thank you."

"Really, there's no need," Whale smiled briefly. "I'll be back in an hour or so to check in on her." He paused before he left, hand on the doorknob. "You should get some sleep."

Just a few minutes after he left, the door opened again to the sound of wheels and nurses hushed voices, and Regina's heart jumped into her throat. The door creaked open – David hurried to hold it open, beating her to it.

There were two nurses in scrubs – August, and a woman Regina didn't know – pushing the hospital bed in, its wheels rattling on the floor. They were speaking to Mary Margaret and David, easy, assured words and soft voices but Regina didn't hear any of it. She could hear herself walking over to the hospital cot as August pushed it into position in the middle of the room and fixed down the stops on the wheels.

Underneath a thin white blanket, Emma was lying on the bed, curled slightly on her side. Her hair was still half-up in a ponytail from the surgery, but a few stray strands of blonde hair had escaped to tangle around her face. She was breathing softly in her sleep, chest rising and falling under her white pyjama tank. She looked oddly peaceful, like she was just sleeping.

Regina's hand found the plastic bed rail. The sight of Emma asleep there in front of her, safe and in one piece, made all the nerves in her stomach disappear. The opposite of fear, Regina thought, studying her sleeping so soundly, isn't joy. It's relief. She absently reached forward to brush one of the loose strands of hair off Emma's placid face.

After a moment, Regina felt Mary Margaret at her elbow and took a step back to let her see her daughter. She watched the mayor look down at her, this woman who had been the awkward kid she'd been brave enough to take on, at the look on her face.

When she glanced across the bed at David, she saw a similar expression on his – blue eyes wide, almost watery, soft smile creeping over his mouth, and she felt a sudden rush of love. Not just for Emma, but for her parents too, because they'd been instrumental in all of this, and so strong she could hardly believe. If she could be even half of what they were to Emma for Henry, she'd be happy.

Regina stood there for a long time more – they all did – and after a while pulled up her chair closer to the bed, so she could at least try and get some sleep now she knew Emma was okay.

This time, when she closed her eyes, dreams came easy.

-0-

It was dark when Emma's eyes opened blearily to the other side of the bed.

Her eyelids felt heavy, and her head did too, like a lead weight against the thin hospital pillow. The hospital. Right. That was where she was. After. After. Emma squeezed her eyes shut for a second, watching patterns dance behind her eyes and feeling herself breathe, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Beneath her, the hospital mattress was firm and unyielding, and the thin blanket was kind of annoying tangled up with her legs. Still, she was warm, and the sheets were soft. Her hair fell in her face, tickling. She lay there, mind struggling to make connections. Her thoughts felt heavy. They took effort.

When she opened her eyes again, they adjusted to the dark after a few moments – she could just make out the small hospital room all around her, the ceiling above her. At one side of her bed, her mom was asleep in one of the blue vinyl armchairs, head resting on a folded-up cardigan as a makeshift pillow. The sounds of her soft snores made Emma's chest loosen.

Across the room, there was a thin slice of silver moonlight coming in from under the blinds, and a strip of it landed on her dad's face – he was sleeping too, lying on another of the hospital issue blankets under the window. His old work boots stood in a corner, next to her mom's purse.

And finally, in the chair the other side of her bed, Regina.

She was curled up in a ball, feet tucked under her. Her head was resting on her shoulder, dark hair falling across her face. In the dark, Emma could just make out the shape of her features.

She knew what she'd just gone through. She knew she still had medication running through her veins, new nerves trying to fix with old broken ones inside of her. And yet somehow, all of that was right. She felt... Peaceful. Here, in this bed, surrounded by these people she loved.

Emma let her eyes close again, drifting in between sleeping and waking. It could have been hours later that she found herself staring around the dark hospital room again. The meds must have worn off a little, since her mind was working a little clearer now. She still felt tired, but more than that, the familiar pangs of hunger were churning in her stomach. And she wanted to talk to somebody. She wanted to...

"Regina," Emma whispered sharply, trying not to wake her parents. "Regina,"

"Hmm?"

Regina's brows drew together, eyes still closed as she stretched against the chair for a second. After a minute, she ran a hand through her dark hair and Emma knew she was awake. Her dark eyes opened, staring through the darkness. "Emma?" She whispered, voice hushed but alert.

"Yeah," Emma whispered back, blinking a couple of times and finding the brunette's gaze across the room.

"Emma," Regina repeated, this time with a smile spreading over her lips. Despite the dim light from the hallway, she could see her tired eyes were just lit up, sparkling and hopeful.

Sparing barely a glance at the sleeping figures of the others, the brunette unfolded herself from the chair and hurried to kneel at Emma's bedside. Her eyes searched the other woman's face. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"I'm good," Emma said, not thinking what a stupid answer that was, given the circumstances. Regina was staring at her like her life depended on it. "I mean, I feel okay. Tired and kind of out of it but... okay. Like, nothing hurts, you know?"

"I know," Regina confirmed, nodding with a breathless smile. "Whale came in a few hours ago. Said everything went smoothly. We have nothing to worry about."

Emma felt a small sleepy smile crawl across her face. "Good."

"Do you want me to get anything for you?" Regina asked, voice dropped to an even smaller whisper so they didn't disturb the others. "Is there anything you need?"

Emma didn't have time to think about how stupid her answer sounded until she'd said it. "I'm kind of hungry, actually." Medication.

An incredulous smile appeared on Regina's mouth, like the start of a laugh. In the darkness, she could see one perfect eyebrow arch up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Emma admitted, green eyes hopelessly finding hers.

"Why am I not surprised," The brunette whispered. She paused, glancing back around at David's sleeping figure. "I think we ate all of what we brought with us. I could go down to the hospital shop and get you something if you wanted?"

"That would be amazing, Regina, thank you," Emma said. "I mean, I'll come with you. You just need to bring my chair over. I could do with the..." Had she really just been about to say walk?

Regina's dark brows drew together slightly. "But what about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"Don't you want to talk to them?" Regina asked. She was leaning in closer now. "Tell them you're okay?"

Emma shook her head dismissively. "Later."

"Emma," Regina whispered. Her dark eyes were bright with moonlight. "Your parents are going to need to see you. Talk to you."

"And they will," Emma promised. "In the morning. Look at them, they're both exhausted. They deserve at least one good nights sleep. And anyway..." She swallowed. "There's something I have to do first."

"Okay," Regina nodded in understanding. "I'll get the chair."

It was standing in the corner of the room ready for the morning, black and gleaming in the moonlight. The brunette wheeled it over as quietly as she could before carefully going about folding down the plastic rail on the hospital bed so she could help Emma down into the chair. Her hands were soft when they brushed her skin.

Once Emma was in, Regina insisted on digging in her purse for a notepad and writing a quick note to Mary Margaret and David telling them they'd gone to get food and they'd be back soon, just in case. Emma watched her write, smiling all the while, even though she knew her parents would sleep like rocks now everything was okay. It was cute.

"We can go now," Regina whispered, taking the wheelchair handles and gently pushing Emma over the polished floor and out into the corridor. Emma winced at the sudden bright lights, fluorescent strips buzzing above her.

They fell into a soft silence as Regina navigated the white-walled maze of hospital corridors and hallways, past abandoned waiting rooms. The wheels of her chair whirred on the floor. When they passed a nurse walking between wards, the exchanged smiles, but nothing else.

Sitting in her chair, being pushed through a hospital at night, wearing a tank top, plaid pyjama bottoms and Space Invaders socks, Emma couldn't help thinking this was nice. Yes, the hallways were claustrophobic and too bright and smelled of bleach. Sure, she was pretty woozy from the anaesthetic and too tired to even say, but it was nice.

It was nice to have Regina behind her, pushing her, all soft and sleepy and full of hope. Her dark hair was tousled around a face free of make-up, her clothes comfy and rumpled where she'd slept in them. She could hear her breathing. The sound of it was as familiar to Emma as a favourite song.

The distance between her ward and the shop was fair enough, but she was glad. When Regina pushed the button for the elevator, and it arrived with a beep, Emma couldn't help remembering being in this elevator with her before, at every monthly check up. She smiled a little at the memory.

And when they reached the hospital shop, a crammed little On The Go next to the hospital café, and Regina pushed her down the stubby little aisles, Emma could just feel her heart relaxing, somehow.

"How about something for the morning, too?" Regina asked, one hand pushing Emma, the other holding the blonde's late-night selections – crackers, bottled water, a PBJ. Her voice was heavy with tiredness. "I can get some fruit? Yoghurt?"

Emma's eyes caught on a familiar red package on one of the shelves. The bright lights were making her zone out a little. "They have Lucky Charms."

"I'm not getting you Lucky Charms," Regina said, and Emma could hear the start of a laugh in her voice. It was infectious. It bubbled up in her chest like champagne. "You can have Mini Weetabix."

Emma was grinning to herself now, just smiling down at her lap. "You haggle like a pro, Mills."

"I raised a little boy, Emma." Regina replied, picking up a package of Weetabix. "I think I can negotiate my breakfast cereals."

"Nah," Emma closed her eyes a second as Regina pushed her towards the counter. "You just know I can't say no to you."

Regina paid for their strange groceries, hanging the bag on one of Emma's wheelchair handles as she wheeled her back out into the corridor. She was tired – she'd barely been asleep an two hours before Emma woke her up – but never in her life had she been more happy to be awake.

They made it down one corridor before Emma spoke again, her voice rough and sleepy, but certain. "Come on, 'Gina." She craned her neck slightly, trying to catch Regina's eye. "I can't let you push this late." Emma blew a strand of hair off her face and her genuine green eyes leapt up to meet hers. "You know what to do."

Regina stared at her for a second, hopelessly and endlessly amazed by this woman, and then nodded. She was too tired to argue. Instead, she made sure the shopping bag was hooked securely on the chair before coming around to join Emma in the chair. Some distant part of her knew this was silly – and maybe it was the lack of sleep, but the rest of her just naturally went with it. The sky is blue. You sit in Emma's lap going back to the ward. Their legs brushed together. As ever, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

They carried on back up like that, Regina's hand covering Emma's on the wheelchair buttons. When they got to the elevator Regina leaned over to push the button, and it made Emma want to laugh.

They were nearly back at the ward when, slowly, Emma came to a stop. The wheelchair's soft whirr died down to a hum, standing still in the middle of the empty hospital hallway. It was completely silent.

After a second, Regina turned her head, brown eyes searching Emma's green. They were close. Impossibly close. She could feel Emma's warmth seeping into her, filling her up. Her breath was against Emma's skin. It felt so natural to be this close, and at the same time such a privilege.

Emma exhaled slowly as she turned her head down to meet Regina's gaze. Now their noses were touching. Now their hands – Regina's fingers crept over hers, threading their fingers together. She could see it.

She let herself take a moment to study Regina's face, green eyes tracking over the soft lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the shape of her lips, the colour of her eyes. Coffee and melting chocolate. She made herself take in each curling eyelash, and the colour of her skin, oddly vulnerable-looking without make-up.

And then they were kissing. Emma craning her head down, Regina leaning up, breath shaking, eyes fluttering shut. It was a soft, sleepy sort of kiss. The sort of kiss that has all the time in the world. Emma's lips moved clumsily against hers, and Regina's answered slow and sleepy.

It wasn't the kind of kiss that broke open the sky – they'd had those. It was the kind of kiss that felt like coming home.

When finally they came up for air, Emma let her forehead rest against Regina's. Regina's thumb drew soft circles on Emma's palm. Emma felt her brow crease when she closed her eyes, staying as close as she could to the woman who had come into her life like a hurricane and ended up being her sunlight.

They stayed there like that for a while, in the middle of the empty hospital corridor, foreheads touching, ankles crossing, cradled into each other, breathing in and out, in and out, in and out.

When at last Emma pushed down on the button to take them around the corner and back down into her ward, Regina's arms were wrapped around her, and her head was buried in her neck, and somehow she had the feeling that no matter what happened to her body, she could survive anything.