SO... YEAH. THIS CHAPTER IS KIND OF RANDOM, BUT THE MUSE SLAPPED ME UPSIDE THE HEAD, AND THIS IS WHAT SHE WANTED.

Emma took in a deep breath, feeling her heart flutter uncomfortably in her chest. She hated hospitals. They were so sickeningly-sterile and serious, filled with pain and suffering and death…and perhaps, worst of all, obnoxious vending machines that wouldn't surrender the SunChips, no matter how many times you kicked it.

She leaned her head back, trying to calm herself as she waited for Dr. Whale to come back with her test results. Wincing, she gently pressed a hand to her side, which still ached from the fall that had landed her in the hospital that morning.

Emma had gotten to the station early that morning; way earlier than Neal or Hook anyway. She had been dutifully pulling out another stack of paperwork when a curious buzzing noise interrupted her: alas, a fly, hovering near the top window sill. And because she detested flies with the burning passion of a thousand Arabian suns, Emma had decided to wheel her chair over to the window so she could smash the life out of the little bugger.

Unfortunately, her swing was a little too energetic for her wheeled chair to allow: it slid, and she fell to the floor with a painful crash! and a loud cry of pain that startled those horrible birds that had been chirping all morning away from the window (the one silver lining in all of this).

When Neal came in, he spotted her leaning against the cell, holding her ribs gingerly, and insisted on driving her to the hospital. Emma had protested, using her mountain of work as an excuse, but Neal turned a deaf ear to it all.

And so here she was. Waiting to see the damage. Hoping Dr. Whale wouldn't come back and diagnose her with some fatal illness. She drew in another breath, and looked around the room at the empty bed beside her, hoping it wouldn't be her new home for the next few years as she battled the African Flesh-Eating Virus, or something equally horrible.

The sound of footsteps padding down the hall pulled her back to the present. Dr. Whale poked his head into the room. Emma looked up as he entered, her knees shaking. He was holding a clipboard, a small smile playing on his face.

"So?" she said anxiously.

"So…" He smiled widely at her, his eyes gleaming. Emma raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. Whale threw his arms in the air. "You're pregnant!"

Emma's heart dropped. "What?"

"Nah, I'm kidding," he chuckled. "You're not pregnant. But," he shrugged, "you do have a fracture in your ribs, so…." He waved his hands as if to say, It could have been worse.

Emma stared at him openmouthed, her hand on her rapidly beating heart. "What is wrong with you?" she said breathlessly. "Why would you do that to me?"

Whale shrugged, flipping through the papers on his clipboard.. "That's how I break bad news to all my patients. Softens the blow."

She frowned. "What happens when they actually want to be pregnant?"

Whale stared off into space, considering. "Then… we have a problem."

Emma raised an eyebrow, waiting for further explanation, but he didn't offer any.

"Anyhow, nothing to worry about, very minor procedure," he said, tossing the clipboard down. "Although I have to ask…" He was clearly trying not to smile. "You seem more scared than surprised that you could be expecting Emma Junior. Are you, uh…?"

"Seriously?" Emma said, looking at him incredulously. "You perverted little—"

"I'm asking as a doctor," he said loudly, talking over her.

She smiled at him sarcastically. "Right…"

"I have a Ph.D. And an M.D. Do you know what means?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "It means I not only have a license to practice medicine, I have a license to ask as many intrusive, personal, private, embarrassing questions I want. So I'm asking as a licensed professional—" his voice turned serious—"should I run a blood test? Because if there was a fetus, this is a very critical developmental period—"

"NO," Emma said loudly, shaking her head emphatically. "There's no chance of it anyways, I'm not even… There's no chance, okay?"

"You're sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow sternly. "From what I hear, you drank a lot at that Halloween party. Maybe something happened…?"

"Dr. Whale!" she said scandalously, looking at him with wide eyes. "Are you calling me a slut?"

"No," he said, frowning. "No, I'm just saying, memory loss is a common side effect—"

"My parents were there, you fucking weirdo!" she practically shouted. "What's the matter with you?"

"I was only asking, because I can get you a blood test while you're—"

"I don't need a blood test!"

"Relax, all right?" he said, looking rather alarmed. "Jesus, woman!"

Emma looked back at him, breathing hard as she tried to abate the panic in her chest. "No, I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand on her rapidly beating heart. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I guess I'm just…"

Whale raised his eyebrows, prodding her to go on.

"I don't know…I've been really stressed lately, I'm a little skittish, I guess. You know, between work a-and the guys a-a-and Henry—" she sighed, rubbing her eyes—"oh, God, especially Henry…it's all been a mess."

Whale nodded thoughtfully. "What's up with Henry?" he asked cautiously, looping his foot around his stool to sit by her. Emma shrugged.

"I don't know…" She looked up at him curiously. "He's been spending a lot of time shadowing you. Does he talk to you or anything?"

Something flashed across Whale's face, but he shook his head. "Nope. Just having him follow me on rounds, mostly. Sometimes, he comes into the clinic, but we don't talk much on a personal level."

Emma nodded, feeling rather disappointed. "Hmm… well, thanks. And sorry for—for losing my shit. Like I said—"she smiled apologetically—"stress."

"It's okay," he said, standing up and smiling. "I'll go tell Neal about your rib, and then we'll see how quickly we can get you out of here." He tossed her the remote. "Might be a while before I'm back," he explained, and flashed her a grin. "I personally recommend the Lifetime channel—it's a riot."

Emma waved at him as he disappeared out of the room, and aimed the remote at the television, her hand idly resting on her aching side. She took Whale's advice and flicked to the Lifetime channel: some discount-Sigourney Weaver was dealing with her teenage son's drug addiction. Emma chuckled as the actress tried and failed to deliver a heart-wrenching speech, and settled back against her pillows to watch.

Discount-Sigourney was weeping over her son's unconscious form when the door opened, and Hook strolled in, whistling. Emma looked over at him, frowning as she watched him throw himself onto an empty bed, propping the pillows under his head as he switched on the television. He didn't even seem to notice her there; just laid back, lazily flicking through channels.

"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat loudly. He looked over, startled, and blinked at Emma.

"Bloody hell, Emma, what are you doing here?" he asked concernedly, sitting up. She raised her eyebrows.

"I fell and fractured my rib. What are you doing?"

His eyes flicked toward the television. "Watching the demon pictures," he said, nodding toward it.

"In the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Mmm… the beds are comfy?" he suggested.

Her eyes narrowed. "The beds are comfy. That's what you're going with?"

He sighed, hanging his head. "All right," he said in a resigned voice, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to face her. "If you must know…I'm avoiding Ruby."

"Avoiding Ruby?" she repeated, crinkling her brow. "But all last week, you were in love with her. I thought—"

"Well, last night, we patched things up pretty well, let's leave it at that," he said hastily, shifting his eyes around the room in a guilty sort of way. "But I'm feeling a little… Look, I don't want to hang around in my room because I might bump into her, so I'm watching my pictures here, and that's all you need to know," he finished, rather snappishly, in Emma's opinion.

She raised her eyebrows coolly. "Well, then."

"Yes, well, then," he said flatly.

"So you two are… back together, or what's going on there?"

He shrugged.

"That's not an answer."

"I don't really have an answer," he said, poking holes into a pillow with his hook. "I thought I wanted to get back together, but now…? Meh."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause what?"

He didn't answer, just frowned down at his increasingly tattered pillow.

Emma opened her mouth in dawning comprehension. "Oh, I see…"

"No, you don't see," he said irritably, looking up. "I honestly thought I was in love with her last week."

"Yeah, but come on. You fall in love every five minutes. That Penelope Cruz commercial—"

"That woman is a goddess, don't you even!" he said sharply. Emma's eyebrows jumped.

"What happened to Jennifer Lopez? I thought she was a goddess."

"Oh, well, Jennifer Lopez…" A wide grin spread across his face. "We all know how I feel about Jennifer Lopez."

"Yes, we all know how you feel about Jennifer Lopez," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

"Alas, fair Ruby is not Jennifer Lopez," he sighed, tossing the pillow behind him. "But she's latched onto me like a barnacle again." He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "S'pose I shouldn't have told her I loved her…"

Emma closed her eyes in exasperation. "Of course you did."

"And now I'm stuck with her again." He blew out a breath slowly. "Bloody hell, what have I gotten myself into?"

"A bad situation," Emma answered matter-of-factly. She shifted her position, trying to tuck the pillow under her head more comfortably, and twisted the wrong way. She inhaled sharply at the pain, clutching her side. Hook sat up on his elbows, raising his eyebrows at her.

"You all right, love?"

"No, I'm not all right. I told you, I've got a fractured rib." She winced. "Son of a bitch."

He nodded once, thoughtfully, as if he were digesting the information. "You know," he said slowly, getting up and walking over to her, "that sounds like a rather familiar injury…"

She frowned at him suspiciously as he got closer.

"I seem to remember a certain pirate with a few cracked ribs from a couple years ago," he continued, smiling humorlessly as he stopped beside her bed, looking at her injured side. "And there was a little blonde sheriff who came in…"

"Hook," she said warningly, sensing what he was going to do.

"They were talking… she didn't like him much at the time…" He lifted his hand, slowly trailing it along her rib bones. "But he very much liked her, so he made a few jokes…which she didn't appreciate…" His hand stopped, pressing slightly harder. "And do you know what she did?"

"Hook, I swear to God, if you punch me in the ribs, you're going to lose the other hand."

"She slammed her bitchy little fist right into the poor man's injury," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. He smiled down at her. "You're very lucky he's a lot nicer than she was."

She breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped his hand, and strolled back to his bed, humming softly. He kicked his shoes off, and leaned against the tattered pillow, pointing the remote at the television.

"What are you watching?" he frowned, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Lifetime movie. Channel twenty-nine," she said, shifting her pillow carefully.

He flipped to the channel, and settled back, placing the remote on the night stand. "What's this one about, then?"

"Her son's on drugs, and she's not happy about it, basically," Emma said, raising her eyebrows as discount-Sigourney sobbed unconvincingly into a bland-looking man's chest.

"And who's that?"

"I don't know, her husband?"

"Poor bloke. She's really annoying."

"Shitty actress," Emma agreed, nodding.

They continued with their lazy commentary as the movie went on, making remarks on the various states of discount-Sigourney's hair, why the drugged-out kid resembled this piece of fruit more than this piece of fruit, and who exactly the bland-looking man was. Emma was building a rather convincing case that he was actually the brother rather than the husband when the door opened for the second time and Neal came in, looking worried.

"Hey, how you doing?" he asked, kneeling down beside her bed. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah… just waiting…" She smiled at him. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up," he said, though his eyes told a different story: they kept shifting around, shooting furtive looks at random things in the room.

"Neal." Her tone clearly said, You're not fooling anyone. He met her eyes reluctantly, and shrugged, mumbling something. "What?" she asked, leaning forward to hear him better.

He exhaled in frustration. "I said, hospitals freak me out."

She chuckled in appreciation, patting his hand. "Yeah, me, too."

"Me, too," Hook echoed.

Neal whirled around at the sound of his voice, and looked incredulously at Hook lounging on the hospital bed, working on Emma's Jell-O.

"Killy?"

"Oh, are we still on that?" Emma complained, tilting her head back. Neal apparently didn't hear her.

"What happened to you, what are you doing here?"

"Eating Jell-O," Hook said unhelpfully. Neal rolled his eyes, and looked to Emma for an explanation.

"He's avoiding Ruby."

"What?" Neal's head snapped back so fast, Emma swore she could hear something crack. "Already? I thought you were in love with her! I thought she—"he made a grand, sweeping gesture—"mutilated your heart?"

Hook shrugged, taking another spoonful of Jell-O. Neal looked at Emma incredulously, his mouth slightly open.

What the hell is wrong with him?

She shrugged. Who the hell knows?

Discount-Sigourney suddenly let out an ear-piecing shriek; Neal let out a yelp, and swung around, looking for the source. His eyes fell on the television, watching as the druggie kid (who Emma and Hook had agreed reminded them of a grape, for some reason) started convulsing.

"What are you guys watching?" he frowned, still a little breathless.

"Movie," Hook said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. Neal rolled his eyes, exhaling in frustration.

"What movie?"

"Druggie kid makes the mom flip out," Emma said absently. "Wait, I thought that guy was dead?"

"That was the other guy," Hook told her. "That's the counselor."

"No, that guy had glasses," she frowned. "I'm sure of it. That's the guy from the rehab center who died. What is he, like a hallucination now?"

"Emma, oh my God! That guy is clearly the counselor!" Hook said, gesturing at the mystery man. "You just haven't been paying attention because you and Neal have been gabbing like a couple of old ladies at Bingo night."

"Is the kid dead or what?" Neal asked, squinting at the now-sobbing discount-Sigourney. "Because if he is, I'm betting that dude is from the rehab center and he's taking the kid to Heaven or something…"

"What do you know? You just got here!" Hook snapped. "Emma and I have been watching this for the better part of an hour already, and you have the audacity—"

He broke off as the kid rose from his hospital bed, looking more transparent than usual, and took the man's hand. Together, they walked through a bunch of clouds with a light shining their path—Heaven, Emma presumed.

"Well, then," Neal said smugly. Hook folded his arms, glaring at the screen.

"What a stupid ending," he muttered.

"Yep," Neal agreed cheerfully, standing up. He looked down at Emma. "By the way, Whale told me to tell you he'll get you squared away before the day's out, but he just had a kid come in who needs, like, a million stitches, so he doesn't know when."

Emma groaned, her head falling further back onto the pillows. "This sucks," she complained.

"It's not even that bad," Neal said comfortingly. "At least nothing's seriously broken."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be stuck in the hospital all day," she sighed. "We were going to play foosball later."

"And do paperwork and stuff, of course," Hook said immediately, even though they all knew perfectly well that wasn't true. That was one of the reasons why Emma loved working with them: not only were they her best friends, but they were her best friends who didn't make her actually do any work at the sheriff's station. Sure, they would all pile into the car when they got a call for something exciting, but other than that, they just hung out and goofed around all day.

Of course, when David wasn't working at the shelter and dropped by the station to help out, they had to put on the charade of actually working, but even that was fun: it had become a competition, to see who could most convincingly pretend to be doing something productive. Hook and Emma were tied for first, as Neal often lost interest in the game halfway through; but it was rather amusing to see him pretend to get frustrated with the amount of paperwork he wasn't actually doing.

"We could hang out here," Neal offered. "Everyone take a day off."

"Yeah, I could use a holiday," Hook yawned, stretching his arms. "We should take naps and eat Jell-O." He looked at Neal, smiling lazily. "Want to get me some Jell-O?"

"Nope," Neal smiled back.

"Will you get me some Jell-O?" Emma asked sweetly.

"Oh, Emma…" Neal laughed, kneeling down to put his arm around her. "No."

"Oi," Hook said, looking over at them with a frown. "How come I have to be by myself? Neal, get over here."

"I'm not hugging you," Neal told him. "If you're so lonely, call your girlfriend."

"Oh, Penelope's working today," Hook said, nodding at the television as the Revlon commercial came on.

"I was talking about Ruby."

Hook's smile faded some. "Oh, right."

They waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't say anything; just watched Penelope Cruz twirl around with a little smile on his face.

"All right, look, man," Neal said, shifting slightly so he could look at him properly. "I know you think you can't stand her again, but you remember where you were last week, after you two broke up?"

"Mmm…" Hook screwed up his face with the effort of remembering. "Vaguely…"

"Well, I remember it very clearly," Neal said bluntly. "And you were a major pain in everyone's ass."

"I was heartbroken," Hook said indignantly.

"I know. Do you really want to put us all through that again?"

Hook narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching. "Excuse me, but Penelope is on screen, and I need to pay attention to why Revlon is better than other leading brands."

Emma and Neal exchanged a look as he turned back to the television, determinedly ignoring them. When the commercial had finished and Penelope finally swept off screen, he swung himself off the bed and announced, "I'm going to go hit on some nurses. Neal, you want to come with?"

"Not even a little bit."

Hook shrugged. "Suit yourself. Feel better, Emma."

"Bye," Emma said as he left the room, mussing his hair purposefully. She shook her head sadly. "He's such a slut."

"Yeah," Neal sighed. "He and Ruby are so perfect together."

Something about the way he said that struck her as odd. Why was he suddenly interested in Hook's relationships? She frowned up at Neal, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Is something up?"

"What? No," he said, laughing unconvincingly.

"Uh-huh."

"Em…" He glanced at her deadpan look, and sighed, flopping his hand in defeat. "All right, fine. I've got a bet going with Regina. Robin already lost, he said they wouldn't get back together, so now it's just me and her."

"What's the bet?" Emma asked, intrigued.

"She thinks they'll be broken up again by the end of the day; I gave it a little more time." Neal tapped his fingers, frowning thoughtfully. "I just hope he waits until after nine o-clock to break up with her. That's the cut-off time."

Emma nodded slowly, tracing her fingers along the armrest. "Can anyone join in this bet?" she asked quietly.

Neal looked round at her in surprise. "Well… not this one, but you can get in on the next one," he offered.

Emma grinned. "Okay."

"Okay," Neal nodded, grinning back. "Great, I'll text Regina, let her know you're in the circle." He pulled out his phone and started scrolling for Regina's number. "You know, if we could get your parents in on this, we could get a nice little pool going."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," Emma said eagerly, sitting up. "Ask your dad and Belle if they want in on this Hook-and-Ruby-thing."

Neal nodded, punching keys. "Someone could make a good buck off those two sluts," he remarked. "This is going to be fun."