"Sydney," Regina snaps into the line, still sitting in the same position from when Allison stormed out of her own damn room.
"Mayor Mills, I am still following her, but I have some information that I thought you would prefer if I told you in person," he declares, his tone flat and insincere.
She flings forward in bed, pressing the phone closer to her ear and dropping her forehead to rest in her free palm, so she can focus solely on his voice. "What did he find?"
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but there is no information on Allison Cameron, writer, from New York." Her heart plummets, free falling and brutally colliding into the pit of her stomach and she thinks she might be sick.
"There has to be," she demands, squeezing her eyes closed to stop the vicious spinning whirling around her. "There must have been a dozen Allison Cameron's in New York."
"Correct, however, I know what she looks like. None of them match her identity-"
"Listen to me, there must be some mistake, she was an orphan, her parents died in a car accident when she was five. Have your guy dig deeper," she barks out, because the last of her patience has vacated her body and all that's left are hypersensitive nerves that have her losing her mind.
There's no way this is happening to her again. It can't be possible. Is the woman she's falling in love with living a double life, just like her first love?
She'll kill her.
XXXX
She knew the moment the phone rang twice in a row, there was an emergency. It's not like she has any friends or family that ever call that line and she knew exactly who was calling. She didn't process the weight of the situation when she received the phone call. Honestly, she doesn't even remember the drive to New York from Maine. Her mind was blank, her body working on autopilot to transport her to where she needed to be.
But now, standing outside the hospital door with her name written on a sticker across her chest, she feels like vomiting. Her entire body is violently trembling and there's a tangy acid tickling the back of her throat and all she wants to do is run. She wants to drive back to Maine, crawl back into bed with Regina and pretend none of this is happening.
Except, the door is swinging open, revealing a man, maybe in his late fifties, early sixties, but he's still very handsome. He offers a weak smile and softly closes the door behind him. His dark brown eyes drift to her name tag and suddenly that sticker feels awfully heavy, like the weight of her life is resting upon Emma's shoulders.
"Emma," the man sadly acknowledges, his hand reaching out to shake hers and she quickly accepts.
"Uh, yeah. Mr. Hadley, I presume?"
"Yeah," he whispers, releasing her hand and moving to nervously rub the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry we are meeting like this," she mumbles, feeling terribly uncomfortable and anxious and please let this all be some horrific nightmare that she's about to wake up from at any moment.
"I know and I'm really sorry to have called you, but she keeps mumbling your name and I think," he chokes on his words, his eyes filling with thick tears. "Even if she didn't want you to see her like this, her heart really wants to say goodbye."
Her chin wobbles from the cold, hard truth and she cannot bite back the tears like she had hoped for. She slowly nods, her gaze dropping to the floor so this stranger doesn't have to witness her tears, because is it really fair that she's crying over this woman that she only knew for a month, in front of her father?
"Thank you for calling me," she whispers, and then she feels his warm hand clenching her bicep and squeezing to express his support.
"I'm going down to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. Why don't you go in there and see her alone?" She nods slowly, her eyes fixated on the polished linoleum below her feet. "Would you like some coffee? I know it was a long drive."
"Not right now, thank you," she says, finally lifting her head and offering him a watery smile. "C-can I ask what happened? I thought she had a couple years left?" She timidly investigates, so unsure if she even has the right to ask.
He clicks his tongue and takes a deep breath. "She did, in a sense, but she really wanted to live her life to the fullest before time ran out. She was acting irresponsibly, not taking care of herself, experimenting with drugs and sleeping around. Her body weakened and her immune system was down. She developed pneumonia and her body is too weak to fight off the infection. Her organs are shutting down," he regrettably explains, yet, there's something in his tone that leads her to believe that maybe he's not all that upset with his daughter's behavior.
"Are you upset that she cut her life even shorter?" She asks, even though she knows it's something she has no right to inquire about and completely out of line.
"Honestly?" He counters, one eyebrow quirking up as she nods slowly. "The last two years of this disease are horrible and I don't want her to suffer like her mother did," he fully admits, offering one more sad smile before he walks right passed her.
Emma closes her eyes and allows a few tears to trickle down her flushed cheeks. She quietly cries to herself for a minute or two before she scrounges up her courage and wipes that salty liquid away. She tells herself to be brave for her before she walks through that door and faces the inevitable.
She gently opens the door and sneaks inside, unsure how she may find the other woman. Her wet eyes immediately land upon the beautiful woman sleeping in the hospital bed. Her high cheekbones are washed out in a grey hue that is nothing like the bright red she remembers when they were tangled up in the sheets together. Her brown hair is greasy and lifeless, matted down to her head while there are charcoal colored rings beneath her sleeping eyes. But what Emma hates most, are all the machines she's hooked up to; oxygen wires supported by her ears and shoved up her nose, to the IV's plunged into her veins. She cringes.
Tentatively, she tiptoes across the room and settles down in a chair to her left. Very carefully, she skims her fingertips across her forehead and hates how her vision blurs instantly.
"Thirteen," she whispers delicately, hoping she can see those stunning steel-blue irises with a hint of green circling around the outside, once again.
She receives a low hum in return, so she has an inkling that maybe she's heavily sedated. She gently rubs her arm, careful of all the wires and drops a small kiss to her shoulder.
"Remy, it's Emma. I know you probably didn't want me to see you like this, actually I know you didn't, but your dad called me and I know you miss me, just as much as I miss you," she softly whispers, needing to speak to her once again, and she hopes Remy can hear her, but maybe it's okay if she doesn't because she doesn't know what to say to make everything okay.
She gently laces her fingers through Remy's, shuddering immediately when she feels how cold she is.
"Hey, remember when we first met and you refused to tell me your name?" She lightly questions, a small smile playing at her lips from the memory. "You were with all your colleagues at the bar and you said thirteen was your lucky number and that's what everyone calls you."
She presses another lingering kiss against the brunette's shoulder and smiles against the familiar feeling of her once again.
"I thought for sure you were fucking with me," she confesses, her smile broadening against a hospital gown. "But then you finally told me your name on that Monday, after two days in my bed."
Her eyes are filling to the brim with that stupid warm liquid again, so she closes her eyes and allows the tears to seep through the cracks, inevitably wetting Remy's gown.
"I know you never wanted me to say it out loud, but I loved you. I know it was only a month, but thirty days, locked away with someone, exploring every inch, inside and out, is plenty of time to fall in love. And I did," she chokes on her words, because those words feel foreign against the grain of her tongue. She's never once muttered the l-word to anybody before in her life, but she needs to say it now, she needs this woman to know. "I do love you," she breathlessly confesses, resting her forehead against Remy's shoulder and quietly crying from the inevitable.
"I love you too, Emma," the groggy, quivering voice says above her head, completely startling her.
"Thirteen," she mutters, sniffling and swiping away the tears sticking to her flushed cheeks.
"Hey," she barely responds, her eyes still closed and the peaceful serenity still consuming her features.
"Rest okay, I'm going to be right here when you wake up," she vows, clenching Remy's fingers to confirm that she's right there beside her.
Remy hums again, her head falling to the side, like she's trying to scoot closer to Emma. So, she runs her fingers through her hair again, provoking a small smile around Remy's mouth as she surrenders to the drugs that are pumping through her veins. And Emma cuddles against her shoulder and falls fast asleep from the long drive in the middle of the night and the exhaustion of heartache.
XXXX
She jerks awake, snorting or maybe she was snoring, but there's definitely drool that she's hastily wiping away. She blinks away her sleep and scans the room, noting that Thirteen is still passed out and the lights are still off. She cranes her neck to the left and finds Mr. Hadley sipping a styrofoam cup of coffee and reading a book.
"Sorry, I fell asleep," she mumbles, still groggy and half asleep, prompting the man to lift his head from his thick book.
"That's alright," he kindly says and softly smiles before he places a bookmark inside and rests the book in his lap.
"Here, I'll move so you can sit by your-"
"Oh no, no, you drove all this way. Spend time with her," he sweetly urges.
"Oh, um, thanks," she timidly replies, shifting awkwardly in the chair and all too quickly she is realizing how stiff her neck and back are.
As she's stretching out her sore muscles, Mr. Hadley proceeds to fill the void of silence. "Four and a half hour trip, where were you coming from?"
"Maine."
"That's pretty good time."
"I broke some laws along the way and not one bathroom break," she discloses, fully proud of herself.
"My lucky Thirteen."
"Huh?" She questions dumbly, pivoting in her chair to face the man.
"She's lucky to have someone like you come running for her," he solemnly says.
Emma closes her eyes for a moment, scratching her temple before she meets his sweet gaze once more. "I'm sorry, but obviously she's not that lucky considering the circumstances," she boldly declares, and she's expecting him to lash out or kick her to the curb, but he doesn't, in fact he's as calm as ever.
"I know, and you're probably right, but I'm going to choose to see the positive in all this. Her mother suffered so badly with this damn disease. The last five years, she couldn't control how her arms and legs would spasm or the way her temper would flare at any moment to where she would physically become abusive. And it wasn't her fault, she had no control over her body any longer." He sighs pinching the bridge of this nose while Emma swallows the sick feeling crawling up the back of her throat. "The last year, she struggled with swallowing and would choke on everything. Eventually the doctors had to feed her by tubes. Remy is just starting to lose control and I know it's terrible to say, but she's lucky she won't have to suffer in such a way. I know she didn't want to, I know she was terrified of those last five years," he admits as the tears slowly roll down his cheeks and Emma's so invested in his words that she doesn't even notice her own tears. "I don't know, Remy was one hell of a doctor, one of the best, maybe she knew what she was doing," he confesses, slowly wiping his tears away and she feels this urge to hug him, console him, but they don't know each other and she's terrible with comforting people.
"I don't want her to suffer," she mutters, holding back the sob swelling at the back of her throat.
"She told me about you, you know?" He announces, his tone much lighter to squash the depressing cloud hanging over their heads.
"I know I was rushing, but I really cared about her," she fully admits to defend herself, because she's certain Thirteen made her out to be some crazy, stage five clinger.
"I know, but you have to understand that she couldn't put you through that. It's a burden and taking care of a dying person changes you."
"I understand," she whispers, because she does, with all her heart, but she hates to admit it out loud.
"She loves you though," he muses, smiling softly again and she can't help but think how lucky Thirteen is to have such a sweet man for a father.
"I love her. You raised one hell of a woman," she compliments him, observing as his smile blossoms and brightens up his whole face.
"Thank you."
They both turn their attention to the helpless figure lying in the hospital bed and they both smile at the woman that changed both their lives for the better.
"Do you think she'll be up soon?" Emma mumbles, sweeping the lifeless hair out of Remy's face. "Or do they need to keep her heavily sedated?"
"I'm sure she will be up between doses," he answers, his eyes sweeping to the clock on the wall, causing his brows to furrow. "I'm sure her doctor will be in soon to check on her, it's been awhile now."
The concern is evident in his pinched face and the worried line embedded deep in his forehead, so Emma tries to lighten his mood or at least distract his mind for a moment.
"You know what my favorite memory is of her?" She softly asks, her voice still rough from the lack of sleep, but Mr. Hadley is already smiling back at her as he tilts his head in wonderment. "The first night we met-"
"I don't want to hear that," he grimaces, but Emma belts out a carefree laugh and quickly shakes her head.
"No, no. Nothing like that," she swears, but he's still eyeing her skeptically. "The first night we met it was raining and she insisted that we sleep with the window open, so we could really hear the different sounds as the water collided with various objects outside." She smiles, a goofy grin, remembering the way Thirteen felt, her silky skin against her own with only a thin sheet to cover them up as they kissed softly and listened to the rhythm of the rain. "I never thought twice about the rain, only that it was an inconvenience, but in that one month we were together, she taught me to pay attention to the little details I took for granted my entire life." She sighs heavily, rubbing her thumb against Remy's cold knuckles. "It should have been a clue that something wasn't right, but I was so wrapped up in our time together, I missed so many signs."
"Emma, whether you saw the signs or not, wouldn't have changed the outcome of the situation. Remy knew she couldn't involve herself with someone. There was never meant to be a future for you two. Just take Remy's memory with you, know that your time together taught you something and she came into your life for a reason," he urges, and she will never admit to this stranger what the reason was, but it's so much more than appreciating the details in life.
She slowly nods, rests her forehead against Thirteen's hip and silently cries for the woman who changed her life for the better.
XXXX
About an hour had slipped away as Emma fell fast asleep on the chair beside Remy's bed once again. Mr. Hadley woke her up, careful not to disturb his daughter, and explained that he was going home to shower and change since she was there to watch over Remy. She promised she would call immediately if there was any change in her status and he thanked her for looking out for his baby girl.
Two doctors had come in to check on Remy's status while some nurses checked her vitals. Emma had recognized both doctors from the first night she met Thirteen, and even as they worked quietly around her, they still called her Thirteen. After they were finished, Emma curled up in the chair, and tried to catch at least another hour of sleep, but that didn't go according to plan.
"Emma," her voice is like sandpaper scraping against a gravel road and snaps Emma to attention.
"Thirteen, hey, how are you feeling?" She whispers, her fingers moving all on their own to brush some strands out of Remy's face.
"A little uncomfortable," she admits, wincing as she attempts to adjust her body in the hospital bed.
"Do you want me to call a doctor in here? Maybe he can give you a little something to take the edge off?" She worriedly inquires, so unsure where she should touch or place her hands.
"Not yet," and it kills Emma to witness how hard she's struggling to produce words through her dry throat.
"Can I get you some water? Ice chips? What are you allowed to have?"
"Emma, what are you doing here?" Thirteen questions, her head rolling to her left to meet Emma's concerned gaze. And Remy is trying so hard to appear stern, but her eyelids are droopy and she looks utterly exhausted.
"Your dad called me."
"Wha-you know how I felt...I-I didn't want," and before she can even finish her thought, she chokes on her own words and stumbles into a coughing attack that she can't possibly control.
"Thirteen, what do you need?" Emma frantically questions, absolutely lost on how she can help at a time like this. Would Remy's father know what to do? He should have never left her in charge. "Remy, calm down, please, take a deep breath," she rambles incoherently, but her ex is gasping hopelessly and coughing hysterically. "I'm calling a nurse," she declares, reaching for the button across the bed to alert the staff. She runs her fingers across Thirteen's forehead, trying to calm her body down. "It's okay, I promise," she mutters as some man charges through the door.
"What happened?" He sternly questions through a thick Australian accent, dashing to Remy's bed and moving quickly to hook up an oxygen mask.
"No-nothing," Emma stammers, "we were talking and she started coughing," she explains, watching carefully as he removes the thin oxygen tubes from Remy's nose and replaces it with a full mask that covers her nose and mouth.
"Deep breath, Thirteen, you know the routine," he kindly instructs, holding the mask firmly into place, but Remy's hand is quick, trembling as she reaches to hold the oxygen by herself.
The doctor allows Remy to hold the mask while he pulls out his stethoscope and listens carefully to her lungs. Even though Emma's heart is racing and she can hardly breathe herself from the panic striking her from within, she notices how badly Thirteen is quaking, so she quickly grabs the mask and holds it into place with one hand while her other hand securely locks around Remy's.
"I know, you know," the blonde doctor chuckles, removing his stethoscope and draping it back around his neck. "But maybe your friend would like to know it's the pneumonia acting up," he states, while Remy attempts to playfully swat at him.
"Is she okay now? Can she have something to calm her back down, make her more...comfortable?"
"Thirteen?" He inquires, raising one eyebrow for her final say so and they must have discussed her wishes a long time ago, because he seems to be allowing her to call the shots.
Thirteen slowly reaches up, inhaling one last deep breath as her hand rests on top of Emma's and gently slides the mask down, so she can speak.
"In a little bit," she mutters, "I want to spend time with Emma."
The doctor flashes a cheeky smile and nods his agreement, but before he leaves, he checks her vitals again and charts everything into his computer, allowing Thirteen a few extra minutes to catch her breath. Once he's out the door, Remy slides her mask down again and offers a lazy smile.
"Come up here."
"Are you crazy? I'm not climbing in that bed with you. What if I sit on your oxygen and cut off your supply or pull out an IV-"
"Emma," Remy chuckles, and it's dopey, maybe half asleep, yet so full of love. "Please just get up here," she begs through her hoarse voice, easily persuading Emma to crawl onto the other side of the bed, very, very carefully, avoiding all wires and tubes along the way.
Once Emma lays down beside her, she kicks off her boots and playfully taps her foot with Remy's, generating that lovesick grin that she fell so hard for a few months ago. Emma's head falls to the left and then it's those fascinating cat eyes peering deeply into sparkling green. Emma tries, she really tries to muster up a smile, but it comes off more like a frown.
Remy removes her mask for a moment and whispers, "I really didn't want you to see me this way."
"I know," she respectfully concludes, observing as Remy inhales a deep breath from the mask before she speaks again.
"I'm glad you came."
"Me too."
"Are you still...on a case?" Thirteen inquires and Emma distinctly hears the cracking in her chest and the break in her voice and knows she's struggling to create one last memory of them together without the foggy haze of drugs.
"I am. I'm telling you, I've never struggled so hard with a case in my life," she fully admits, producing a pout around Remy's mouth behind the clear mask. Emma blindly reaches for her hand and intertwines their fingers. "You really screwed me up, you know that?" She chuckles softly while Remy's head slides against the pillow to rest against Emma's shoulder. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken the case because I've been so worried about you, and then there's this little boy next door to my temporary home, and his life is all kinds of messed up, and I've been stressing over him, and..." she halts, dead in her tracks, inspiring Remy to lift her head, and she doesn't say anything, but her eyes express that she wants Emma to continue and not hold back.
"Don't kill me," Emma playfully says, prompting Remy to roll her eyes as her head falls back down to lean against Emma's shoulder. "This kid's mom is...pretty fantastic...and I really like her, but I've been lying to her because of the case, I'm undercover."
"You don't have to feel weird, I want you to move on. I'm glad you found someone," Remy softly whispers.
"Thirteen," Emma delicately runs her fingers down Remy's temple and curls her hair behind her ear while she stares deeply into those vibrant eyes. "I-I'm going to give this woman a chance, and I want you to know that's all because of you." Remy rolls her eyes, so Emma grips her chin, demanding her full attention. "No, please listen to me," she pleads, earning herself a small nod in response. "Before you, my life was empty, full of one-night stands and work. I had nothing in my life that was really worth living for. Then I met you, and," she inhales sharply, trying to keep her tears trapped inside. "You brightened up my world and I knew I couldn't go back to living such a lonely and depressing life. I fell in love with you so fast and I wanted to try with you, and when you told me that could never happen, I thought for a brief moment that I should lock myself up and never love again. But now, looking back, I-I think you were brought into my life for a reason. I think we were destined to meet, so you could teach me what it feels like to love. I haven't loved another human since I was five, because of my parents, and then you came along and taught me how to love again," she confesses, provoking the warm tears to trickle down her cheeks.
"Emma, I wish it could be me, but it can't," Remy whimpers as two tears slowly roll down her cheeks, but Emma's right there to wipe them away. "I want you to love again...you deserve it...and...you," she's fighting against her own liquid-filled lungs to breathe again, so Emma guides the mask back up into place and presses a lingering kiss against her forehead, ignoring the tears that are gliding down her own cheeks and landing somewhere between them.
"Breathe."
"You have so much love to give," she mumbles behind the mask. "Love this woman."
"Her name is Regina."
"Remy, Regina, close enough," Thirteen deadpans, inspiring both of them to laugh lightly.
"I do love you."
"I love you too, Emma."
"Emma?"