For three days, Henry underwent every test and answered every question Dr. Whale and her team of four imposed on him. He'd come to learn the names of each intern and nurse that popped up beside him, though he rarely gave any effort into getting to know them better. He put on a brave face and never complained, nor did he ever shed a tear. Even when he was stuck with four needles in the span of 15 minutes, he chomped on his lower lip and squeezed Regina's hand, but he maintained his stoic nature. Emma, meanwhile, couldn't bring herself to watch. Unlike Regina, she couldn't suppress the desire to switch places with Henry; unlike Regina, she couldn't be there for him the way he needed her.
Despite the women's best efforts, whenever Henry was relieved of his medical duties, he retreated into silence. He read his comics and watched his cartoons, but he no longer smiled or laughed. His usual enthusiasm had vanished without a trace and his exuberant descriptions of characters and plots were absent from their lives. In just three days, Henry's childhood and innocence had been stolen from him; he reacted the only way he knew how.
Emma and Regina continued to take time off of work, despite warnings from both of their department administrators. The bounty hunter ignored every call and email from Mr. Gold, while the editor fed her secretary more lies to pass on. Neither one of them wanted to be anywhere near their respective offices. This time was to be spent with Henry and Henry alone. The rest was just white noise.
It was the evening of the third day and Henry had just finished his dinner. Well, half of his dinner. The contents on the tray that Penny had brought him weren't even close to edible, per Regina's diagnosis, and the grilled-cheese sandwich from the cafeteria was only slightly better; he much preferred the way Emma made them. At least she didn't burn the bread. And, to be honest, Henry's appetite wasn't exactly what it had been just days before. The stench of bleach and lingering odor of alcohol swabs gave him a migraine he couldn't shake. He only took a bite of his food to please Regina, who'd been hovering over him day in and day out.
While the young patient ate as much as he could, Emma had left and returned in less than an hour. She came bearing gifts, once again; it was an impulse she couldn't get rid of. She thought, perhaps, more comic books would help keep Henry's mind off of things. Of course, she realized it was irrational. The boy had just found out he had cancer, after all. Nevertheless, Emma did as she always had with Henry: she spoiled him.
Hidden in a brown, paper bag, half a dozen graphic novels spilled onto Henry's lap as Emma tipped the sack upside down. Colorful covers and eye-catching illustrations gave Regina vertigo as she marveled at the books Emma had found. For once, she didn't chastise the woman for her surplus of gifts. "Here you go, Kid. Knock yourself out," Emma smirked.
Henry scanned the various novels and perused the titles. The likes of X-Men and Fantastic Four caught his attention more than once, and while he was truly grateful for the treats, he responded with a morose, "Thanks." Instead of opening any of them and devouring the pages, Henry leaned back against his pillows and resumed his task of counting the holes in the ceiling. Three days of staring nothing but empty, white walls, anyone would have done the same thing.
"Well, I can't wait to read these!" Regina exclaimed as she snatched the only Captain America comic. She flipped the pages and acted as if she were genuinely interested, even going so far as to gasp at one of the scenes. Henry wasn't taking the bait. "Would you look at this? Someone scuffed this poor man's starry shield," she said as she showed the boy. Henry peered over at the picture, but said nothing. Emma and Regina exchanged an identical eyebrow raise as Henry chewed his inner cheek. He could outlast them any day.
In the midst of their brief interlude, someone's cell phone rang and distracted the disturbed women. "Hello?" Emma answered, slightly breathless. "Mom? What? Hold on." Stepping out into the hallway, the blonde stood just several feet away from the door where she could maintain watch on Regina and Henry. "Ok, sorry. What's up?"
"We haven't heard from you since last week, that's 'what's up!'" Mary Margaret shouted into the microphone. "Do you mind telling us just what in the world is going on?!"
Holding the device an arm's length away, Emma waited until the line quieted before pressing it back to her ear. "Look, Mom, right now's not really a good time. There's some… stuff I gotta take care of. I'll call you—"
"Don't you dare hang up, Emma Kathryn Swan! We've been waiting to talk to you for—" there was a rustling on the other end and a loud crash as something fell to their wooden floor.
"Emma? Emma, you there? It's Dad." Compared to his wife, David sounded considerably less frantic, though equally as bothered. "Please, we just want to know if you're ok. You don't have to tell us anything else, just that you're safe."
Closing her eyes and turning away from her other family, Emma shuffled to the wall and rested her back against the hard surface. Several nurses walked past with curious expressions, but kept wise and minded their own business. "I'm fine," she sighed. "It's… it's not me… it's Henry."
"Henry?" Mary Margaret grabbed the phone back from her husband.
Tilting her head, she accidentally slammed it harder than she'd meant and a loud thump vibrated through the walls. As Emma massaged her injury with one hand, she spoke through the physical— and emotional— pain evenly. "He's in the hospital… it's not good." She still couldn't bring herself to say it: the "C" word. There was a still silence on her parents' side and for a moment, Emma thought they'd hung up. It was in that moment, though, that she realized just how much she needed their reassurance, to hear their voices. She'd never needed her mom and dad more than right then. "Guys?" she tested.
"How bad is it?" her mother wanted to know. The strain in her words was thinner than a sheet of ice in the winter. Mary Margaret hadn't seen her daughter in days; this was the last thing she'd thought Emma would say. "Emma?" she pushed.
There was a familiar burning behind her eyes as Emma stared at the hands of the clock across from her. They served as her focal points. They gave her something to concentrate on. "It's not good," she repeated. "Please," she half-pleaded. "I'll tell you more later, I promise. But… I can't…"
"It's all right," David responded assertively. "You go head. We'll be here. Just give us a call when you're ready."
"Thanks," Emma said. "I'll talk to you later. Oh, and guys? I love you." With that, she pressed the red button on her mobile and shoved it back into her pocket. Emma watched as the stick-like ticker made its way around the clock one more time before going back inside. She plastered on a fake smile, the same one she'd been wearing the past 72 hours, and clapped her hands together. "Ok, Kid, name your price. Ice cream or popsicles? Want me to run down and see if they've got any good smoothie flavors?"
Regina sat next to to Henry, stroking his brown hair the way she used to when he had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep. He shifted his glance from side-to-side, an unspoken "no" sent in Emma's direction.
"Are you tired?" Regina asked. "Do you want to take a nap?" She started to pull the blankets up over Henry's stomach, but he shrugged away and shook his head. It took everything she had not to feel hurt at his cringing from her touch, though she knew it wasn't because of her specifically. Regina got up from her designated spot, the warm bubble she hated to leave, and rummaged through her briefcase. "Here," she said as she pulled out the iPad. "I think what you need is some cartoons." It was a rarity that Regina ever initiated Henry's TV-watching habits; obviously, desperate times called for desperate measures. She scrolled through the various shows that Henry loved to watch and propped it up in front of him; he only side-glanced the screen.
"Gina, can I talk to you for a sec?" Emma mumbled, her arms folded across her chest. She nodded to the other side of the door, which Regina was reluctant to approach. Neither one of them particularly basked in the notion of leaving Henry alone, even though he didn't seem to mind. "My parents know," said the blonde as soon as Regina shut them off from the room. "They were freaking out… I had to tell them." Regina was only half-listening as she frowned at the sight of her son. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile and then she remembered: this was only the beginning. If it was this bad right now, she didn't want to imagine how bad it was going to get. "Regina? Did you hear me?"
Emma's voice echoed, as if she were beneath a cement tunnel. Her words ricocheted off of the surfaces and bounced like rubber. Rubbing her hands together as if to keep warm, Regina reached for the door handle. "I'm going back in," she said softly.
"Gina, wait—" Emma attempted to catch her friend, but she was too slow. The brunette was already back at Henry's side, combing his hair with her fingers, pressing a kiss on top of his head. Emma stood across from them, stuck between mystified and envious. She could sit by Henry all day, comb his hair just as Regina was, and kiss him until the world ended, and it still wouldn't be the same as when Regina did it. Emma wasn't sure she'd ever get over that.
Legs crossed, her shoulders slumped forward, Emma sat in the middle of the blue-painted room with a navy blazer draped over her slim form. Her hair hadn't been washed in nearly a week, her clothes were three sizes too big for her, and she'd only gotten a maximum of 13 hours of sleep. Since coming home from the hospital, she became a hollow vessel, drifting through the days barely conscious. She refused to step foot in her bedroom, lay on the same mattress she'd shared with Him. There were fix-ins scattered through their kitchen for small meals, but nothing nutritious— nothing that a normal person could live off of.
For six nights, Emma laid curled in a ball in the center of the nursery they'd prepared for their son. The wooden crib they'd received from her parents rested just below the window pane, the white curtains flowing over the side-bars. Emma had moved it on her own with the little strength she had left. Although she had no child to put in the bed, she couldn't stop herself. Blue-cotton blankets with elephants and giraffes tucked around each corner of the miniature mattress. The mobile that He'd constructed hung above the vacant spot.
Stuffed animals, infant-sized shirts and socks, diapers and wipes all surrounded the woman like the debris from a tornado. She hadn't touched anything other than the cot; she didn't want to contaminate the rest. The rocking chair Neal had picked out at Ikea sat alone, collecting dust. There was a moment when Emma imagined herself sitting on the chair, a bundle in her arms, soothing the child to sleep. But, then, her daydream exploded, as if shot by a bullet. None of this was real. None of it mattered anymore.
In the days she'd been released from the maternity ward, Emma dressed herself in Neal's shirts and sweatpants; they still smelled like him. The combination of aftershave and just pure Neal comforted her. She refused to wash the clothes once she'd worn them for fear of getting rid of his scent. She even walked around their apartment just to spread it from room to room.
The phone rang off the hook, day after day, after day. When the answering machine would get it, she could hear the urgent squeaking of her mother pleading with her to pick up. David gave it a go, but even he was unsuccessful. He hadn't given up; he just knew Emma a little better than Mary Margaret did. One more than one occasion, Mrs. Nolan referenced her daughter by her full name in the hopes of getting her attention: Emma Kathryn Swan. "Kathryn" had been the Nolan's first child's name; upon hearing the gut-wrenching story, their teenager opted to take it as a middle name, seeing as she never had one. With Mary Margaret and David's blessing, Emma became Emma Kathryn. It was the first thing the Nolans had ever given her, other than a home.
Whenever she hugged her knees to her chest and listened to the excruciating voicemails, Emma shut her eyes tight and perilously fought to drown out the rest of the city's many melodies to an unpleasant song. But, every time she managed to ignore the honking and the sirens, another noise penetrated the atmosphere. It was cringe-worthy and high-pitched, desperate and afraid. It was the sound of a baby crying. It was her baby.
Regina had tried to contact Emma multiple times; she'd wanted to give status updates on the baby, but Emma didn't answer her calls either. It wasn't that she didn't want to know, she did wonder about the boy— she just didn't have enough courage to forgive herself for handing him to another woman. Blocked off from the rest of the world, the blonde woman battled her demons alone. Buried deep beneath the shadows, she was slowly drowning in an ocean of grief. Her body shook and her mind taunted her, while her heart broke for happiness that had been ripped from her, the man she'd loved, and child she'd carried. Not only had she lost her best friend and lover, she'd lost the life they'd created together. Emma was paralyzed by the agony of her decision and the anguish of Neal's death.
While her mind was infiltrated by the darkest of thoughts and the most painful memories, her body was slowly giving into the mental torture. She was losing the baby weight at an alarming rate, though no one was there to tell her otherwise. She'd stopped speaking, even to herself. And, she was starting to lose the ability to differentiate between night terrors and reality.
Regardless of her mother's reassurance from across town and Regina's moment-by-moment replay of the boy she'd called Henry, Emma was only sure about one thing: nothing would ever been the same again. None of her childhood, none of the pain she'd experienced, had prepared her for this. She'd gotten too comfortable; she'd accepted the feeling of joy too easily. She'd let her guard down and this was her price. And she was never going to get over any of it.
A/N -I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Sorry it's been a few weeks! How are y'all feeling about this story lately? I swear, I'm updating as soon as I can. College is no joke, as I've probably said before. Thankfully, the semester is almost over! So, with any luck, I'll catch up on these fics! Someone mentioned something about geographical mistakes in this story. So sorry about that! I thought I'd done enough research, but obviously not. I should also mention, again, that I am not a doctor. I do not claim to have a ton of medical practice/knowledge. I'm looking things up as I go. Side note, mega SQ episode a few weeks ago, huh? Emma and Regina defeating that freaky snow-thing TOGETHER! (Not even gonna talk about the two-hour PoS). Anyway, I gotta go for now, but I'll be back!
