Author's note: Well this was supposed to be a one-shot, but surprisingly, inspiration struck. Although, I'm happy with how I ended chapter one, so it can be a story for itself, if you prefer so. I may or may not continue this for a bit longer, I'm not sure yet.
Anyway, enjoy!
…
"Emma?" It's a familiar voice. She knows that voice, she's sure of it. Snow, she's standing behind Emma, hand on her shoulder. "Are you…" Her voice trails of when she moves to stand beside her daughter and notices Hook.
"…okay."
On the other side of the road, the driver is being loaded into the ambulance. David and Belle are in the car, waiting. Mr. Gold is hovering nearby, his face a mixture of hurt and helpless anger. Emma doesn't see any of that. Words come tumbling out of her mouth before she even knows it, "He was fine, he was-"
But Snow is crutching down by his side, hands moving quickly, searching for a pulse. It's cold so she doesn't comment on how cold his skin appears to be. Not until she's sure.
She almost misses it, a barely there flutter beneath her fingertips. Relief floods through her, at not being witness to yet another death.
It's what finally snaps Emma out of her stupor and she bites back on the shame that threatens to consume her, pushes it down. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the ambulance doors closing, and she sprints the short distance between her and the paramedics.
"Wait, stop, over-"
"Here!" Snow's voice cuts her off, and the next few minutes turn to chaos.
…
David is silent behind the wheel on their way to the hospital, and Snow is in the back with Belle. Emma can see her in the rearview mirror, sees her lips moving, so she must be saying something but it doesn't reach Emma. For the short ride, nothing does. Her words, on a loop, keep playing in her head: "No! He can wait!"
It's better when they get to the waiting room. Ruby and Grumpy are suddenly there, and everyone is talking, and everyone has an opinion, a question. And eyes are watching her, expecting answers and solutions and maybe an abracadabra to fix everything because she is the bloody Savior. Not one of them though, asks about Hook, and Emma is thankful for small victories.
It's a few minutes or a few hours later, that they see Dr. Whale approaching.
Emma's guilt tugs on its leash, does a quick sky-rocket and then settles low in her chest. Right next to the dread at Whale's grim expression.
"They are both alive," and he pretends not to notice the dwarf's almost disappointed sigh, "and the Sheriff will be able to question the driver in a few hours, when he wakes up."
Emma nods dumbly, composes herself. Stands up. "Everyone should go home, it's late. I'll stay here and wait for him to wake up." And everyone does, except Snow, who takes a bit more convicting before she leaves her daughter alone.
It's way past midnight and the hospital is quiet, calmed down after the chaos that ensued hours earlier. Emma, now alone, gathers her nerve and walks over to where Dr. Whale has sat down. Her voice comes out brittle, and she allows herself a silent curse.
"What about Hook?" Whale's expression still bothers her, and Emma isn't sure she wants to hear the answer. But she needs to, has to.
The doctor looks up from the cup of coffee he'd gotten in the meantime, and motions for her to sit down next to him. Emma feels queasy.
"Mr. Jones survived the surgery, but he's still critical. There's really nothing more that we can do except wait and see what happens."
Emma thinks she might be dreaming, because those are words you only hear on TV. But the chair is cold beneath her body, hard, and Whale looks dead on his feet, so to speak, and it's all real.
"What-" She clears her throat, because the words fight to stay unspoken. "What's wrong with him?" She hears, he was dying, he couldn't breathe, his lungs were filling with blood and you stood just a few feet away and said he could wait. But Whale's lips aren't moving yet, and Emma swallows hard.
"Well we managed to repair most of the damage his lungs suffered, and take care of the broken ribs. What worries me is the oxygen deprivation. I understand someone tried to strangle him?" Apparently, someone already talked to him.
"Yes, he-"
"And that was after he got hit by the car?" His tone isn't accusing, but Emma feels like she's on trial. She manages a nod, and Whale stands up.
"Well Sheriff, from what I've heard about Mr. Jones, he doesn't give up all that easily. I'm just surprised the paramedics took so long." The last part is muttered, Emma barely catches it. She feels cold, the air too thick.
"I'll be in my office, if you need me, Miss Swan."
Another stupid nod later, and she's alone again.
"No, him! Take care of him! He can wait!"
Tick. Tock.