The moment we're back inside the resort, Regina goes to work in the kitchen. I watch her mash all the berries into a paste before straining it all through a cloth, squeezing the juice into four different glasses. It's intense work but I hang back to let her do it alone, not wanting to get in the way, but when she picks up two of the glasses and leaves the others behind, I quickly pick them up and follow Regina to the table where the guys are sitting.
(I did say I'd be her extra pair of hands.)
"Come on, Killian. You have to drink this." Orders Regina.
"All of it? It looks like oil." He replies.
"Yes, all of it. And lucky for you, it tastes better than oil."
Graham and Neal take their cups without any complaint, but August is resting with his head against the table, shoulders tensing up when I give one a light tap.
"Hey. You awake?" I require.
"I guess."
"Well, that's a good thing. I've got something to help you feel better. Can you look at me?" I ask him.
He groans but slowly raises up his head, eyes sunken with exhaustion. August looks far too pale, and I press the glass up to his mouth with urgency, not wanting him to pass out before he drinks the juice.
"Just get this down, okay?" I say.
"… Emma, am I dying?"
"No. No, you're not …"
(Not yet. But he really doesn't need to hear that.)
"Where's Hope? I want to say my goodbyes." He declares.
Despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
"You're pretty attached to Hope, aren't you?" I ask.
"I built her with my own two hands. And if I'm gone, she won't have anyone who knows how she works …"
"August, you're not going anywhere, okay? And Hope is hanging out behind you."
August turns sluggishly in his seat, aanough to see the drone hovering by his shoulder, letting out a calm little buzzing sound. Hope bobs up and down a few inches in the air, and I can almost imagine it's imitating a wave.
"See?" I say.
"Yeah. Guess we're both still kicking." He answers.
I look up and see Regina has retreated to the back of the room, using another rab to try and scrub the stains from the berries off her fingers.
(And it's not working very well.)
She tosses the rag aside and sighs, collapsing into the closest chair. A distant look pervades Regina's eyes, staring past all of us while lost in thought.
(She's trying so hard. The moment the fever past, Regina wanted to go right back to work. I know the apathy is a facade, even if she doesn't want anyone to see through it. No one buys every spare second of time they can if they don't give a damn.)
I pick up the empty glasses and go back into the kitchen, setting them down in the sink. Stealing one more glance at Regina, I bite my lip.
(I shouldn't be worried about us when she's looking out for everyone else. That's stressful enough without me making her freak out over a hug. Ugh, that sounds so selfish. I didn't even get sick! No wonder she's backing off.)
"Emma, where you'd go?" Neal calls me.
"I'm coming, Neal. I was just getting the cups out of the way. What do you need?"
"I just wanted to talk. You know, you were gone for so long and I was thinking …"
I let him continue on with interruption, even if my mind starts to drift when Neal starts detailing his plans for a friendship diary. If it keeps him conscious, he can babble about anything he wants.
(The best thing I can do is put whatever Regina and I have on standby. If the worst happens, I want her to be able to rely on me, not run away.)
