A/N:
Emma and Henry are taken to hospital, and we find out just why the hell they need to be there in the first place (there were a lot of interesting guesses based on clues at the end of Chapter 10). Regina and Emma aren't in the best of mindsets here, so you'll have to forgive a little harshness again.
Bear in mind, please, that we're in Emma's head right now. Her perception is not necessarily the reality of the situation, particularly when it comes to her and the way others feel about her.
So go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
And I'll have a taste of mine
But first let's toast to the lists
That we hold in our fists
Of the things that we promise to do
Differently next time
Ani DiFranco - Marrow
They're wrestling her into Storybrooke's one ambulance when Emma hears Regina's cry. It sounds like an animal caught in a trap, and Emma's stomach does the most horrible somersault at the sound.
He can't be dead. He can't be dead.
She's chanting over and over, as though stopping it is the only thing that will kill her son.
Emma thinks she's saying it to herself, in her head, but the paramedics look at her with enough stunned concern to confirm that she's saying the words out loud.
There's a sudden flurry of activity, barked words from Regina and David is shouting, maybe, but a moment later Henry is on a stretcher in the bunk space opposite Emma, and despite the soot on his face and the oxygen mask, she can see that the kid is at least breathing.
She's never been more relieved in her life. It's even more stunning than when her kiss woke him in the hospital; that had been more shock than anything, with no real expectations. It's so much stronger now, the relief, and she figures it has to be all the time spent trying to be a real parent that's done it.
Regina's trying to push her way onto the back of the rig, but Jake politely blocks her way with a firm "we need space to work". David offering to bring Regina in his truck is the last thing Emma hears before the doors slam shut and the ambulance roars into life.
The men work quickly and quietly on Henry, squeezing the oxygen bag in a rapid rhythm that has Emma hypnotized. Her own mask is clammy against her face, her warm breath trapped in it, making her feel like she's suffocating even as her lungs inflate and deflate on cue.
When there's space, she reaches out to squeeze Henry's hand. It's then that he opens his eyes at last, right as they're pulling up to the hospital entrance. Emma drops his hand again, pulls her mask off just in time, and throws up all over the floor.
At least it isn't Whale, Emma thinks as the brisk female doctor shines a light in her eyes and listens to her chest with a stethoscope. Emma's no medical expert, but she's got about ten years of watching ER under her belt, and more than a few Emergency Room and Free Clinic visits peppered her misspent youth. They're going to freak out about smoke inhalation, but so far it doesn't feel any worse than the nights when she smokes ten Marlboro Lights along with her whisky.
"I'm fine," Emma insists, trying to push her way out from under the scratchy blue sheets, but the doctor has her pinned with basically zero effort. There's no twinkling smile to go with the push to the mattress, either. There isn't time, somehow, to ask which fairytale character the woman used to be, but Emma's getting a strong vibe of the grumpy old witch from Rapunzel.
"You can't leave this bed until we've finished examining you," the doctor says firmly, even though the nurses are busy in the hall and she's the only person doing anything to Emma. They've already removed her ruined robe and treated the burns on her arms and legs, thankfully minor but still stinging like a bitch. "And then there may be further tests."
"My kid," Emma pleads, and okay, maybe it sounds a little bit worse than the morning after a spot of social smoking. "I need to know he's okay."
"We'll keep you updated," the doctor replies, scribbling on Emma's chart. "You're going to need a chest x-ray for sure, but I want you to stay here on oxygen for a while first, so we can monitor your vitals."
"Whatever," Emma says with a nod, already plotting her earliest possible escape from this room into wherever they're treating Henry. Maybe Regina will help with the smuggling when she shows up.
Speaking of the not-quite-devil, Emma sees the dark-haired whirlwind of Regina pass down the hallway outside her room. Emma's parents follow behind her, still hurrying, but without the same level of panic as Regina obviously has. Emma feels her stomach sink all over again.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret is crying before she even reaches the bed. She looks to the doctor for permission and receives a simple nod before pulling Emma into a crushing hug.
"Ow!" Emma protests, but nobody listens and then her father lays his hand gently on top of her head and all the things she's been so desperately trying not to feel since she opened her eyes start to explode like the sky on the Fourth of July.
It isn't crying, not really. It's just noise and a sensation like the bones in her face are being pushed outwards by all the things she has no idea how to feel. It's the lingering fear of not knowing what the hell has happened, and the dull wheeze in her chest every time she breathes. It's the panic of not being able to see Henry, of him not being here right now to roll his eyes and say he's fine, duh.
And it's a little, tiny bit that Emma wishes Regina were holding her right now more than anyone else.
Not that they do that, exactly. The only time they come close to hugging is more a naked sort of clinging to each other after sex, but Emma's learned not to ask for more than she can handle.
"Stay in bed," the doctor commands, when the sobs subside. "That tube doesn't leave your nose until I'm happy you've taken in enough oxygen, understood?"
"My... son," Emma tries to argue, but forming words is still too hard.
"Your parents can keep you updated," the doctor says, and this time it's not so unkind when she takes in the mess that Emma no doubt is. "I mean it, stay put, Sheriff Swan."
As the doctor leaves, Emma wriggles free of the joint embrace David and Mary Margaret have wrapped her in. Her head is pounding, and she's relieved to see a glass of ice water already waiting by her bed.
"So?" She asks, voice raspy but steadier. "Can someone tell me what the hell happened? And uh, get Regina in here as soon as she's checked on Henry?"
Her parents exchange another of their silent communication looks and suddenly Emma feels much, much worse.
"But..." Emma doesn't know which fact to argue with first.
She hadn't been cooking, and she doesn't remember doing a single thing after falling asleep two pulls into her second bottle of beer, right there at Regina's kitchen table. How that computed to a house fire and Emma being found by the front door of the house, pulled to safety by the volunteer fire officers, she just doesn't understand.
"The fire officers are pretty sure the fire broke out in the kitchen, but it's still smoldering so nobody can really investigate properly yet," David continues his report, seemingly more comfortable with the facts than the story they're all no doubt conjuring in their own heads already.
"If I was by the door," Emma interrupts. "Why were they still looking for Henry when I came around? Surely he was right there with me?"
"Well," Mary Margaret can't look Emma in the eye. "They found him still upstairs, so..."
"I didn't go upstairs?" Emma tries so hard not to put the pieces together. "I just... left him?" This time, she thinks, if she's sick she'll never stop.
"I'm sure you were running for more help," David insists. "Or to raise the alarm."
"Why would I leave him?" Emma begs them for a more plausible answer.
"That," Regina's voice says from the doorway, voice cold enough to freeze a person solid. "Is a very good question."
"How's Henry?" All three of them ask, the question overlapping and garbled.
Regina looks angrier and still somehow more terrified than Emma has ever seen her. Even the usually unflappable Snow White and Prince Charming draw back with an instinctive sort of fear. She isn't meeting Emma's gaze, and that's a bigger warning sign than Emma ever expected to look for.
"They had to..." Regina flounders for a moment, violently shaking hands pressed to her soot-streaked face while she gathers her thoughts. "They couldn't get the tube in his throat. So they had to cut a hole, and uh..."
"Regina," Emma pleads. "Is he going to be okay?"
"They don't know yet," Regina says simply. "He was hardly burned at all, can you believe that? But his lungs are small, he's never been very big for his age, you see and, well...They're doing everything they can. I can't go in until he's moved to a sterile room."
"Can I at least see him?" Emma yanks the tube from her nose, and tries to push her uncooperating legs off the bed, but her ankles betray her the minute her feet touch the floor. David's the first to react, holding her up even as she tries to fight him off.
"No," Regina says, and the cold voice is back again, colder than Chicago in January. "I've told the nurses they can answer any questions, but you three stay away from us."
"Regina!" Mary Margaret erupts then, and in this sudden clash of the Momma Bears, Emma realizes why she'll always be languishing in third place. "I know you're scared, and worried, but we all love that little boy just as much as you do."
"No," Regina corrects, and she actually crosses the small room to grab Mary Margaret by the lapels of her jacket. "Love is easy for you. Love comes to you everywhere you turn. But he is all I have." Her voice cracks then, and it's not the Evil Queen anymore, but just a petrified woman who suddenly looks as young as a high school girl. "I won't let you and your family take anything else from me, Snow."
"He needs his family," Mary Margaret pleads, and Emma knows it must be bad if the woman who put a knife to Mulan's throat for a compass isn't even fighting back.
"Don't make me defend him, or myself for that matter," Regina warns, shoving Mary Margaret towards the wall, smirking as she stumbles. "Because this time, I won't choose painless methods."
"Regina!" It hurts to yell, but Emma feels the occasion demands it. She fumbles for her nasal tube, because actually it's not the easiest thing to breathe without it.
"Enough," Regina snaps. This time she looks directly at Emma, and there's so much unguarded loathing in Regina's eyes that Emma feels faint just meeting the stare.
Then to make things infinitely, perfectly worse, Neal appears just outside Emma's room. If he gets it in his head to make some stupid romantic gesture now out of panic, Emma's sure she's going to lose what little is left of her mind. At least it gives her an excuse to break eye contact with Regina, who seems half a breath away from hexing them all.
His face doesn't exactly look like he has a big proposal in mind, though, Emma is forced to admit. In fact he looks angry, and that's becoming way too much of a theme. Neal casts his eyes over the other people in Emma's room, as though sizing up opponents in a fight, and Emma senses yet another tiny shift in the air that says: fucked it up again, girl.
"Regina," Neal says, voice gruff, and it startles them all that he would say her name, no one more so than Regina herself. "How's Henry?"
"They had to make a hole in his throat to intubate him," she answers, and this time it sounds more like fact than the ramblings of a devastated mother. "They can't tell me anything for certain."
"Neal, we can't see him yet," Emma explains, hoping that he's just having trouble expressing himself and it's coming out in the angry posture and the clenching fists. He looks like he just pulled a jacket on over pajamas, his sweatpants and ratty t-shirt certainly not any kind of outdoor wear.
"You, maybe you don't talk right now, huh?" Neal turns the rage on her then, and David puts a reflexive arm out in front of Emma, the threat all too obvious.
"It was an accident," Emma moans. "I don't even remember what happened yet."
"I know Regina wasn't there," Neal says. "She left Henry with you."
"We shouldn't be pointing fingers until we know the facts," Mary Margaret interrupts. "Emma could just as easily have been killed, too. And since this wouldn't be the first time Regina tried to get rid of someone-"
Regina lunges for Mary Margaret again, with purple magic misting from her fingertips, but this time it's Neal who holds her back.
"Speaking of facts," he says. "I just got done talking with one of the guys who put out the fire. Turns out they found some cracked and melted beer bottles right there on top of the mess in the kitchen. Didn't even need to go looking."
"I wasn't-"
"You said you were going to make tea", Regina spits. "Did you burn the kitchen down by changing your drink halfway through? Is that how you almost killed our son and ruined my home?"
"Listen," Emma says. "I didn't even start making tea. I thought the kettle might wake up the kid, when it whistles."
"How considerate," Regina snarls. "So you skipped straight to boozing and started the fire some other way?"
"Regina," Neal interrupts. "I understand how pissed you are at Emma, because I am too. But can I see him? I know I wasn't around, and I have no rights here, I know that. But I've been going out of my mind worrying-"
"Fine," Regina cuts him off. "Come with me."
"No, come on," Emma pleads, reluctantly plucking the oxygen tube away, but her lungs betray her with wracking coughs that continue until Regina and Neal have disappeared down the hallway.
The silence that descends over the room is suffocating.
"Did they, uh," Mary Margaret starts to ask, but she shoots a pleading glare at David.
"Did they draw blood when you came in?" David asks.
"Yeah," Emma says, slumping back against the pillows. "So I guess they'll be testing my blood alcohol, right?"
"Probably," David agrees. "So if you say you weren't drinking-"
"I had one bottle, I swear," Emma insists. "I fell asleep during my second and then who the hell knows what happened after that?"
"Okay," Mary Margaret says, pulling up one of the visitor chairs. "You should start sipping some water. And whatever happens, we'll stand by you, Emma."
"Even if I started the fire or abandoned my own kid?" Emma asks.
"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret sighs. "Don't you know by now? That's how unconditional love works."
Emma drifts off quickly, still beyond exhausted. She thought worry would keep her awake, but even with hostility she feels comforted knowing that Regina is watching over Henry.
She wakes up to see her parents sitting on the couch in the corner, holding hands and muttering to each other in that deadly serious way they have.
"Any news on Henry?" Emma rasps, reaching gingerly for the water again.
"I'll go check," David offers, leaving Emma alone with Mary Margaret, who returns to her post at the side of the bed.
"Tired?" Mary Margaret asks, smoothing Emma's hair out of her face without being asked.
"Yeah," Emma admits. "I didn't want to, with the kid still in danger and all, but I'm exhausted."
"That's okay," Mary Margaret soothes. "You know, in your sleep, it's like you're calling out for someone, but all you ever say is 'mmm'."
"Yeah," Emma shrugs. "Other people told me that. You know, over the years. It makes Regina crazy," she adds, for no reason other than misplaced spite.
"If you want to call out for your mother, no one will judge you. I know we haven't discussed you calling me-"
"I don't say it," Emma snaps. "When I was little I used to call out for Mommy, just like I learned in my first home. Go long enough without ever getting an answer, I guess your pride kicks in."
"Right," Mary Margaret snaps, and she just about manages to look like she hasn't just been socked in the gut. Maybe Queens really do have that natural poise after all.
"You two should go home," Emma follows up. "Once we know Henry's going to be okay. I mean, there's no comfortable place to sleep here."
"We won't leave you alone," Mary Margaret argues. The "not again" is unspoken but hangs heavily in the air regardless.
"I won't be alone," Emma insists. "I'm sure Regina or Neal will check in on me once they calm down." She's lying so hard it almost makes her teeth rattle, and Mary Margaret clearly knows it.
"Emma, listen to me," her mother insists. "You may think you know Regina, but if I know one thing about her it's that once she's angry, it doesn't burn out quickly. She kept a grudge against me simmering for decades. Even if this all turns out to be an accident, she might still blame you for a very long time."
"I love her," Emma says, choking back a sad laugh at the very idea that it makes any difference.
"Oh," Mary Margaret says, bowing her head and taking a very deep breath. "I wondered, when you were so defensive at the diner earlier."
"That's it?" Emma asks. "That's your whole reaction?"
"You're in a hospital bed, and my grandson is still dangerously ill," Mary Margaret reminds her. "We have bigger problems than your heart right now, don't you think?"
David reappears then, smiling kindly at the nurse beside him.
"Ms Swan?" The nurse is a good foot shorter than David, with dark brown skin and warm eyes that Emma feels herself responding to instantly. She isn't even going to try and translate the nurse to fairytales right now, she wants to make this just another hospital visit like getting her bounty-hunting injuries patched up in Boston.
"Henry?" She gasps, hands trembling as she clutches at the sheets.
"We think he's out of the woods for now," the nurse, Kym, replies with a twinkle in her eye. "The doctors are very pleased with how he's responding to treatment, but we're going to have to keep a very close eye on him overnight and tomorrow."
"Oh, thank God," Emma breathes, falling back against her pillows. "If it had... if he'd..." the empty sobs start again, compressing her chest until she thinks she'll stop breathing altogether, only to release enough for a snatched, frantic gulp of air.
"Would you like something to help you sleep?" Kym asks, fixing Emma's kinked IV line and pressing some buttons on her monitors. "Because Sheriff, I am not letting you out of this bed tonight, I promise you that."
"No thanks," Emma has to grit her teeth at the effort it takes to turn it down. "I just need to use the bathroom and then I think I'll get to sleep just fine."
"If you say so," Kym says, helping Emma out of bed and draping the cords over her IV pole. "You tell your parents they should go get some rest?"
"I did," Emma confirms, smiling at them. "Come see me in the morning, you guys?"
"Emma-" Mary Margaret starts to protest, but instead she pulls Emma into a hug, waiting while David takes his turn to do the same.
"Call us if you need anything," David says. "They'll call us if there's news with Henry, too."
"Thank you," Emma whispers, and she means it. For the first time in a long time, she feels the benefit of truly having a family.
Too many years of sleeping in completely unsafe situations make Emma jolt awake the minute the shadow falls over her bed. The lights have been turned down to very dim, but she'd know who it was even in complete darkness.
"Henry?" She asks, and there's a nod that will have to do for the moment.
"Will you be okay?" Regina asks, though there isn't a scrap of kindness in the question. It sounds like something crossed off a to-do list, no doubt to report back to Henry if and when he's awake and asking questions again.
"I'll live," Emma grunts. "Regina, you have to listen to me, okay?"
"No," Regina corrects her. "I don't."
"I know we're both pretty stressed out, but you really wanna go there? On the whole endangering Henry's life thing?"
"This is not the same. Don't you dare compare the two," Regina warns.
"Why not? You know, your righteous anger would be a lot more interesting to me if it wasn't so full of crap, Regina. It's okay that you lashed out while you were scared but Jesus, you have to let me check on the kid."
"You should have checked on him before trying to run out of a burning house and leave him behind!" Regina shouts, her eyes wild. "Of all the things I thought I could trust you on... you don't abandon family, Ms Swan. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."
"Well, I don't know what 'me of all people' even means, but we don't know that's what was happening, so give me a damn break," Emma shouts right back, not caring if she wakes anyone else on the ward.
"The evidence seems quite clear to me," Regina retorts.
"And you, of all people should know how goddamned easy it is for evidence not to tell the whole story!" Emma feels the anger bubbling inside her now, hot and liquid, so much more familiar and welcome, even, than the guilt and sadness that's been gnawing at her for hours.
"Are you suggesting you were framed?" Regina leans in closer then, her sneer as cruel as Emma has ever seen it. This is the old Regina, one who doesn't seem to remember the nights falling asleep naked and spent, grudgingly held in the limp circle of Emma's arms. "Because you weren't. And right now, I have no intention of letting you see Henry ever again. I was right in the first place, to want you the hell out of my town."
"I can't help that he came to find me," Emma replies, trying not to wonder how Regina can still be so detached from everything that's happened between them. This conversation should be about Henry, of course it should, but when it comes to running Emma out of town, shouldn't Regina have her own reasons for not wanting that by now?
"It's your fault that you stayed where you weren't wanted," Regina taunts. "Something of a theme for you. You're just another stray puppy, another injured bird that Henry took pity on."
"And maybe if you weren't a fucking murderer, or a pathological goddamned liar, that poor kid wouldn't have run out in the world thinking anything was a better option than you!" Emma's clutching the sheet hard enough for the thin fabric to tear, but it barely registers.
"Well," Regina draws back then, because apparently she can still feel when the worst insults land. "I think the whole town might be reconsidering its idea of a fit parent right about now. And neither you, nor the idiots who didn't raise you, can be trusted with Henry's safety."
"And you can, while you're popping pills to stop you killing his family with magic?" Emma asks, not ready to let go of this cruel line of argument just yet. "Tell me, if I checked the fresh bottle in your purse, how many would be missing already?"
"I have back pain," Regina says, sullen at the latest jab. "Not helped by having to deal with a fire in my house."
"You know, I bet if I bribed Whale for the info, he'd confirm what I've suspected the whole time: there isn't a damn thing wrong with your back, is there? You're just taking the edge off, and that makes you no better than what you accuse me of."
"Of being a goddamned lush?" Regina barks, but she deflates immediately after, too tired even for her usual white-hot rage. "I have pain, Emma."
"We're all in pain, sister," Emma drawls, relieved to have turned the tables, at least for a moment. "But you stand there and judge me for taking my pain for a swim in some Pinot."
"You were with Henry," Regina reminds her. "We had a deal about my son."
"Our son," Emma corrects, but then the anger is fading as she suddenly sees a future of custody battles and vicious arguments and Henry between them, crying about how crappy it all is. "What about us?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Regina asks with a snort. Her clothes are the same as earlier, disheveled and soot-streaked, and of course she's the dedicated mother who hasn't stopped even to grab some clean clothes yet. That's who she is, even when it's creepy possessive or murderously protected; that's the kind of person Regina is.
"Well, a few hours ago I was telling you that-"
"Enough," Regina says, holding up her hand. "I told you then that love has been cruel to me. I didn't think it was cruel enough to endanger my son, but I suppose I can't really be surprised anymore."
"Regina-"
"The awful part?" Regina adds, her voice dropping to a whisper. She looks so sad as she reaches out to touch Emma's face, the touch barely a ghost of the usual contact, so light that Emma can't be sure she isn't imagining it. She leans into the touch anyway, forcing her cheek harder against Regina's fingertips, to make it count. "Is that I thought I could feel something for you, too," Regina continues, her fingers stroking gently over Emma's raw skin.
The hand slips away, but before the soft cry of missing it can pass Emma's lips, a stinging slap lands right on the edge of the strip of burned skin on her cheek. The cry it provokes is much louder, and there's a lot more pain.
"That's for making me trust you," Regina states, apparently calm again. She watches Emma in fascination as she fights back tears, bottom lip trembling. Even though her mouth still tastes like ash, Emma doesn't pull back when, just as suddenly, Regina swoops in to press a firm kiss on her mouth.
"And what was that for?" Emma demands as soon as Regina releases her.
But Regina's already marching away, back out into the corridor and off in the direction that Henry's ward must be. A moment later Kym appears, frown already in place.
"What?" Emma grumbles. "I'm still in bed, aren't I?"
"No more noise from you tonight, Sheriff. There's people trying to get well around here."
The sun is already rising, Emma can see it through the tiny window in the corner of her room. She throws herself back on the mattress, ignoring the complaints from her back as she does, and waits for her parents to return.
Henry remains sedated all day, breathing done for him by the machine as his lungs slowly start the process of healing. David reports back to Emma's room every two hours, having watched Whale scribble on his chart and make reassuring noises to Regina.
When David goes on yet another trip around lunchtime, Emma beckons Mary Margaret closer and makes an appeal to her mother's more rebellious side.
"Think we can get Regina away from Henry's room for ten minutes?"
"Emma-" Mary Margaret's tone is all warning, but her own frustration at not seeing the boy has already sparked in her eyes; Emma knows she's already most of the way there.
"Just come up with a way, let me sneak in and say sorry, okay?" Emma begs. "Would you really be able to stay out the whole time if I was the one in the ICU?"
"No," Mary Margaret admits. "And actually, I already thought of something earlier..."
Emma leans against the door of the janitor's closet, holding her breath every time a set of footsteps comes a little too close. One person actually jiggles the handle, and Emma's heart stops altogether until she remembers that she locked the damn thing from the inside.
A lifetime later the rapid three knocks finally come, and Emma slips back out into the quiet hallway, head down and marching alongside her mother who steers her to the right door.
"I wouldn't stay longer than five," Mary Margaret warns. "I'm sorry, but I took the first minute or two for myself. I thought if Regina worked it out and came right back, it would be better for her to catch me."
Emma hears the unspoken admission that Mary Margaret wanted her own time with her grandson, and doesn't have the energy to be mad about the selfishness of it. Emma has precisely zero room to talk right now, especially when she can't remember a thing after opening her second bottle and laying her face down on the cool surface of the kitchen table.
"Thank you," Emma murmurs, before pulling away to crouch down beside Henry's bed.
It takes too long to come up with the words; even this, Emma is screwing up.
"Hey, kid," she says. "I hope they let you wake up soon. Or you do it by yourself. I don't really know the whole story right now."
She waits, listens to him breathing for a moment.
"I am so, so sorry, Henry. I don't know what the hell happened, but even if I didn't cause the fire, I am never going to forgive myself for leaving you behind. That's the kind of thing some of my foster parents would have... I mean, I want you to know that I wanted to rescue you, okay? Whatever stopped me, I am so sorry that it did."
He doesn't stir, although one eyelid flickers slightly. Emma always blamed that on bad acting in her medical dramas, but apparently it happens in life just as naturally.
"Maybe I should never have come here," Emma mutters, reaching for his hand, wrapped in gauze and with his own IV line running into it. "I know the curse is broken, and I'm so glad I got to know you. But I don't think I deserve it, kid."
She has more still to say, but he probably can't hear her anyway. Just as she starts to stand up, she hears a familiar rhythm of heels outside, and a snarl of reprimand for some unsuspecting hospital employee that can't be from anyone but Regina. With seconds to spare, Emma hides herself in the only place the sparse room offers: a metal closet in the corner.
Regina's still grumbling as she comes into the room, stopping only when she folds herself into the ratty sort-of armchair on the opposite side of Henry's bed. Emma can just about see them both if she squints through the slight gap left by the closet door not closing completely. Regina's wearing what appears to be a set of scrubs and her hair is scraped back into a kind of ponytail, makeup and soot cleaned away. She looks like an off-duty nurse, and as exhausted as one who just pulled a double in the ER on a holiday weekend.
"Well," Regina says after five long minutes pass. Emma flips her cell to silent as she checks the time, starting to panic about how the hell she's going to get out of there undetected. "The doctors are very pleased with you Henry, even if the nurses station had no new results for me after all."
Mary Margaret's plan hadn't exactly been a winning Risk strategy or anything, Emma thinks with a frown; she's beginning to understand how despite being good and having armies, her parents still got everyone cursed to another dimension. She stretches as much as she dares in the confined space, the slippers on her feet barely keeping them warm, and her robe and nightgown combo offering really no comfort at all. She figures she can stay crouched like this for about half an hour, and then she's going to have to find a very quiet way to move.
She just needs to last that long without coughing, the very thought of which makes her throat dry up in an instant. Great.
"Henry?" Regina says, and it's so soft that it startles Emma. She's never heard Regina sound so... well, kind. "Baby, you're going to be waking up soon. I don't want you to be scared, okay? Your throat is going to hurt for a while, and you won't be able to talk to me. But I'll be right here the whole time."
There's a rustle of the sheets, and Emma concentrates on breathing as quietly as possible.
"You're going to be fine, Henry, but this is the last time you're going to end up in hospital, if I have anything to do with it," Regina continues. "I'm so sorry that you've already been here because of me. Losing you once has been hard enough, I don't think I could have... anyway. You're going to be fine."
Emma closes her eyes and blocks out the new wave of guilty thoughts and accusations her own brain is hurling at her. Her own grief would be bad enough, but to take Henry from Regina now that Emma knows how much she's already lost? That would be straight past 'unkind' and right into 'sadistic', whether Emma intended it or not.
Maybe Regina was onto something when they argued. A dozen foster families, another six group homes, all of them throwing Emma out or sending her back; forever the one piece that just didn't fit. Even here, after breaking curses and doing things that shouldn't even be possible, Emma found her real family; but are they happy and well-adjusted and making up for lost time? No, Emma's uncomfortable every time they look at her, and instead of bonding with them she's shacked up with their mortal enemy.
Somewhere along the line, this became a pattern, and Emma just didn't want to admit it.
She hasn't even been throwing away a relationship with her parents for anything that counts. Regina doesn't feel anything real for her, no matter how much Emma embarrasses herself with slightly-tipsy declarations. Throw in the whole sleeping with a woman thing when it's apparently a dealbreaker for all her lost family's hopes and dreams of making more Princes and Princesses, and Emma's fucking things up in just about every way a person can.
So she should get the hell out of this cupboard, face the music with Regina, and slink off to be alone, which is the best place for her right now.
Just as Emma pushes the door though, Regina starts speaking again, and so Emma stops. Maybe it's that she's been sleeping with someone she actually didn't know at all for months, or maybe it's because she expects to overhear more bad things about herself and just can't resist the sad temptation of it.
And resisting temptation isn't exactly her strong suit.
"I'm going to do better, Henry," Regina says, leaning over him. Emma doesn't need a clear view to know that tears are forming in Regina's eyes. "Although my first instinct seeing you like this is to magic it all away, I'm trying so hard to respect your wishes. You have to know how hard that is for me."
"And you don't know this part, but I've been taking some... medicine to stop me doing magic. But that's bad for me, the way Emma's drinking is bad for her. So this morning I've thrown away all of the pills I have with me, and I'll do the rest when I next go home."
Damn, Emma thinks. She's never heard Regina sound so utterly convinced of anything in all the time she's known her.
"I know you've been worried about Emma," Regina carries on, and Emma stiffens in anticipation. "I'll tell you a secret: I am, too. But we have to look after you, first of all. She might not be able to live with us, Henry. Once the house is fixed up enough for us to go back, anyway."
Regina breaks off then, and the snuffling confirms she's crying. Emma realizes that Regina probably isn't getting a scrap of help right now. Will Geppetto come and repair the woodwork in the house? Will anyone offer to donate furniture, not that Regina would ever accept it?
And when Henry's well enough to go home? David and Mary Margaret will take him in a heartbeat, but Regina won't allow that as long as she's still breathing, not now. Emma chews on her bottom lip as she considers everything she's heard, and just as she's about to reveal herself, Regina is called out of the room by another nurse.
Emma flees as soon as she can no longer hear Regina's footsteps in the corridor, not stopping even to kiss the kid goodbye. She has the beginnings of a plan in a place, a small way to make amends for all that's happened, but right now she needs to get a drink of water and lie the hell down for a while.
Hook leans against the doorframe, and even though he's traded pirate leathers for motorcycle ones, all the better to ride August's bike around town, he still looks like a genuine edition bad boy. Emma's kind of relieved, because that's exactly what she needs right now, having sent her very good parents home for the evening again.
"You gotta help me out. Can you sneak me out of here when no one's looking?" Emma asks.
"I don't know this town all that well yet," Hook says, by way of hesitation. "And are you sure you should be going anywhere in this state?"
"I need to get away for a few days," Emma feels the tears come unbidden. "I can't stay here and have everyone look at me this way. I can't. I'm not strong enough."
"You'd be surprised how strong you are," Hook assures her, but he's already moving towards her and offering his one good hand. "But I've never been one to turn down a damsel in distress."
"And shamelessly take advantage of her, I'm sure," Emma grumbles through her tears. With the tip of his hook, he pulls a clean silk hanky from his pocket, and Emma dabs at her face gratefully.
"Now, the nurses are all in a little room watching one of these television things," Hook informs her. "So I suggest we move now, if we're going."
"Fine," Emma says, slipping out of bed and pulling off her robe and revealing the clean clothes she put on under it during her last trip to the bathroom. "And if you hit on me while I'm in this state, pirate, I'm going to declare you officially desperate, understood?"
"I wouldn't dare. Back to her Majesty's?" Hook asks as they skirt past the nurses' station and down a dark corridor towards an emergency exit.
"No, my old apartment," Emma breathes. "Kathryn hasn't rented it out to anyone else yet, and I need some clean clothes, my wallet and my car. How bad is the, uh, damage at Regina's?"
"If it were a ship, she'd have sunk," Hook confirms. "Some of it is down to the bare timbers. It'll be some job to fix, but then your Queen does have powers we mere mortals don't."
Emma doesn't mention her own latent magic abilities, or Regina's promise not to use hers. She's used to keeping her own secrets, so it's no extra burden to keep Regina's along with them.
"Not sure that works for rebuilding houses," Emma says, as non-committal as she can manage.
"You shouldn't blame yourself," Hook tells her as he disables the door alarm with a jab of his hook, leaving Emma to push the bar and open it. "That way madness lies, and I have 300 years' experience to back that up."
"You're not the only one," Emma says, thinking about Regina and looking back to see if her escape has been noticed. But Storybrooke is back to its sleepy self, and the hospital is no exception.
"Well, Princess," Hook teases. "Your chariot awaits."
He hands her a helmet, and just like with August all those months ago when this was deniable, when all this was downright crazy, Emma slips onto the bike behind him and holds on tight.
"Why did you want me to wait?" Hook asks as Emma stuffs a backpack full of essentials, grateful she hasn't moved everything to Regina's. "I mean, I brought your car back already."
"And if you dinged up my Bug with your amateur driving," Emma warns.
"A captain is a captain," Hook says huffily. "I can steer any vessel with just a little practice."
"Whatever," Emma says, grabbing the bag, shoving her phone in her pocket and heading towards the apartment's front door. "Come on."
She locks the door when they're both outside, and hands the keys to Hook.
"What are these for?" He asks, curiosity twinkling in those annoyingly blue eyes.
"Give them to Regina," Emma explains. "The house isn't safe, probably, and they won't think to offer her a room at Granny's. She can come here, with Henry when he's ready."
"You're moving in with your parents?" Hook questions, sensing there's more to the story than he's getting.
"Eventually," Emma says. "But like I said, I need to get away from people for a few days. Just until I can cope with the staring, and the whispering."
"That might take a while," Hook points out.
"Then it takes a while," Emma says with a shrug, heading down the stairs towards the street and the freedom that her car offers. "Don't say anything, okay? I'll leave messages for my parents. For Henry."
"It'll look like-"
"Like I'm running out on him again?" Emma finishes. "Yeah, it will. Guess we should all be used to that by now, huh?"
"Emma-"
"Goodbye, Hook," she cuts him off as she opens the car door. "Thanks for the help. I really do appreciate it."
He waves her off with a mock salute as she guns the engine and does a hasty u-turn on the quiet street. Emma turns the music up loud enough for the car to vibrate with the bass, and driving one-handed she fumbles in her backpack for the bottle she stashed there.
Just a quick slug of Jack to warm her up for the drive, she insists silently. And this time, there's nobody to tell her no.
Well, here we are. One big chapter to go, back in Regina's POV. Where is Emma heading, and for how long? How do you think Regina is going to take the desertion? Is everything as it seems on first assessment of the fire? Speculate if you like, Chapter 12 will be here soon.
As ever, I am in awe of your comments, questions and thoughtful feedback. People aren't kidding when they say SQ is the greatest fandom to write for, and I am just so grateful for all of you who've ridden along with this story so far, when I know it hasn't always been easy.
Thank you. And I look forward to your comments on Ch11!