Every half hour, Nurse Fisher comes into check Henry's stats; although she's quiet and doing her best not to disturb them, Regina wakes every time. Emma, curled behind her on the cot the staff brought in, seems to drift in and out of sleep regardless of who's in the room, but when she's conscious she holds Regina just a little tighter, just a little closer. Any other time, any other person and Regina would resent it, would hate being tethered, but now with Henry still unconscious and with all the blame squarely at her feet—she's just thankful. Thankful that she's found one person, finally, who knows how deeply she loves, how much that love matters.
Emma hums into her hair, takes a deep breath. "Shhh," is all she gets out, though. "Stop thinking."
Regina closes her eyes again, struggles to push the guilt aside.
"Any change?" Emma asks, and shifts to prop herself up on her elbow and peer at the hospital bed, at the monitors stacked next to it.
"No," Regina says quietly, grips the edge of the knit blanket tightly. "Anything from Kathryn?"
Emma's arm leaves her waist, but returns with cell phone in hand. Two messages, one from David and one from Kathryn. Emma opens Kathryn's first, and when Regina reads the words—slightly blurry, and the brightness of the screen hurts her eyes—she just wants to curl in on herself and cry. No consensus, no good ideas. They want to break for the night. Fred & I researching. How's Henry?
Emma doesn't text back or open David's message, just drops the phone onto the cot and pulls their bodies together, presses her mouth against Regina's neck but doesn't do anything beyond that. "We can't worry about that, okay? They will figure something out, and we can trust Kathryn to do the right thing. Okay? We don't worry about that. We focus on him, and being here for him, and—and giving him everything we can, okay?"
She knows the truth of what Emma's saying, but love isn't enough. She wants to give Henry justice. She wants to give Henry vengeance. She wants to crack ribs and break arms and leave all five of the bastards who did this bruised and bloody and begging for mercy. She wants an eye for an eye and no matter how much love enters her world, that violence will never leave her.
"They will get theirs," Emma whispers, and finally places a kiss to her skin. "If I have to do it myself, they will get theirs. But for now, we trust Kathryn."
She tries. She tries to take some of Emma's quiet certainty, Emma's faith, and wrap herself up in it. "They're all at the station, though? They're in custody?"
"Four of them, in the holding cells," Emma affirms. "Just Teddy left, and Mulan said she'd keep patrolling."
"I want them to hurt."
It's quiet for a long moment before she feels Emma nod. "We'll find a way. They'll do the time, somehow."
No magic and no barrier should have made this easy. It should have meant that the five of them get sent up to Charleston until they reach eighteen and maybe a few years past that. It should have meant charges filed and pleas entered and no deals and quick sentencing. It should have meant just another small town violent crime.
Magic would have made this simple. A rib for a rib. Blood for blood.
She almost wants to say send them anyway. Wants to say damn the consequences. Let someone else deal with the self-disgust of betraying their child when the state comes investigating claims of the evil mayor splitting up families and tampering with memories. Let someone else deal with the choice between labeling their child delusional and exposing the whole town for what it really is. She knows which is the right choice and which is the wrong choice. She knows what all can be destroyed by the wrong choice.
Henry's monitors beep, marking the half-hour, and Regina can hear Nurse Fisher's clogs squeak in the hallway. She bites her tongue and closes her eyes and focuses on the scent of Emma's hair, lush and dark, focuses on the steady steady beating of her heart.
At four, when she is still awake because if she closes her eyes she can only see breaking bones, Henry's breathing alters, hitches twice. She's up in a flash, digging an elbow into Emma's stomach before standing up and going to the edge of the bed. His eyelashes are moving, just slightly, and she grips the bedrail hard enough to hurt her own hand.
She feels Emma come to stand beside her, cautious. "What is it? Should I get a nurse?"
She shakes her head, doesn't look away from Henry's face, reaches blindly for Emma's hand. "No, no—I think he's waking up."
Emma's fingers lace tightly with her own, and she steps in closer. "Henry?" she whispers. "Kid, you ready to open your eyes?"
The lights are off and she's grateful, because when his eyes—slowly, slowly, with so many flutters—finally open fully, he pinches them shut again after half a second. "Mommy?"
"I'm here, sweetheart," she whispers, and smiles so wide that she aches with it. Emma—sweet, sweet Emma—brings their joined hands up, switches her left for her right and brings both of their hands over the bedrail to hold Henry's. Both. "Emma, too."
Henry keeps his eyes closed, takes a long, slow, labored breath. "You okay?"
She chokes, and she can feel Emma tensing next to her. "Yes, baby, we're okay. Can you—are you in pain?"
His hand grips theirs, weak but definite. "Yeah." And then he opens his eyes, and looks at them, and she feels so full up with love that it pushes at her bones. "Not hurt?"
Oh, God—there's damage. He doesn't understand he's hurt, or—or he doesn't know how to explain that he's hurt. There's damage. They hurt his brain, there's damage—
"No, kid. She's not hurt," Emma says, voice soothing and dangerously low. "Don't talk anymore, we're gonna get the nurse and some water, okay?"
He closes his eyes again, nods just slightly, and Regina needs him to open his eyes again, needs him to explain, to use full sentences and explain and prove that he will be okay—
"Regina," Emma murmurs, and pulls at her waist, draws her away from the bed, "go get Fisher and some water."
"Why did you say me, what—why does he think—"
"Regina," Emma repeats, stronger, looking her straight in the eye. "Go get the nurse and some water."
She stays where she is.
Emma sighs, looks up at the ceiling for a moment. "I need to figure out if we need to get a deputy down here right now to take a statement, Regina. I need you to leave the room for a minute."
A statement. A—Henry needs to give a statement.
"One minute," she whispers, and goes back to Henry, kisses his temple gently. "I'll be right back, Henry, and Emma will be right here, okay?"
He nods again, and she's sure his mouth turns up in a smile.
Mulan gets there in thirty minutes, comes in just as Dr. Gulliver is leaving. Preliminary tests—following a pen light, reciting the alphabet, counting down from one hundred by sevens—seem to check out. Some of his sounds are off, almost like he's developed a lisp, but Gulliver says that's probably temporary. The important thing is that Henry isn't damaged. He isn't damaged. He's in pain, but wants to give his statement before they give him another dose of painkillers, because he's strong like that, strong and undamaged.
She wants to tell him that she knows, that if he wants to be a little weak just for now it's okay, no one will hold it against him, she won't hold it against him—
Emma sits down next to her and her right leg is jumping nervously, but Regina just doesn't have it in her to focus on tending to anyone but Henry. "You good to do this, kid? We can wait if you're not."
"'M good," he mumbles, takes a deep breath that seems like work. When he was small, brand new in her life and in her arms and in the world, she used to put him down for a nap in the middle of her bed and just lie there with him and watch his tiny chest rise and fall for as long as he slept. Missed meetings and dodged phone calls and blocked out the whole world just to see him breathing. "Hi, Mulan."
"Good morning, Henry," Mulan says, and steps further into the room. Her uniform is unusually rumpled, hair down and loose, and when her eyes meet Regina's, they're clearly bloodshot. But she smiles, comes closer to Henry's bed. "How do you feel?"
He grunts a little, tries for a smile, and Regina reaches forward to touch the back of his hand in reassurance. She knows Emma moves to stop her, but Henry turns his hand to hold hers and Emma sits back with a sigh. "Ask me something easy," he gets out, and finally manages a smile when Mulan chuckles.
"Do you feel well enough to tell me what happened yesterday?"
His grip on her hand tightens, then releases entirely, but she keeps her hand on the bed rail, there if he needs it. There if he needs her. "I got my ass handed to me."
"Henry," Emma says, quietly but with a sharp edge. He closes his eyes, but he's grinning, she knows he is.
Flipping her notebook open, Mulan waits patiently at the foot of the bed, but something around her eyes and the corners of her mouth shows her worry. "Take your time."
He takes another deep breath. It doesn't seem to be as much of a struggle as a minute ago. "I was walking up to Main Street when—"
"Sorry," Mulan cuts in. "What time was this?"
"Um—maybe twelve?"
Her gaze cuts over to Regina and Emma. "Aren't you supposed to be in school then?"
"Half day," Regina says quietly.
"That's still too early," Emma says. "They get out at 12:30."
"Last class is gym this period," Henry mumbles. "He didn't see the point in having us dress for a thirty minute period so he just dismissed us."
Mulan nods, scribbles it all down. "Okay. Sorry. Keep going."
"Um—yeah, so, I was walking and, uh, Nick and Teddy were walking a little way behind me—Nick Tillman and Teddy Barrett—and Teddy started shouting things at me so I turned around to tell him to shut up and he kept going and kept walking towards me so then when he got close I hit him."
Emma puts her head in her hands.
"And then Nick hit me, and then Teddy hit me, and then I was fighting both of them, and it would've been okay because Nick can't punch and Teddy moves too slow, but then the others ran up and they jumped in and then they held me down. One of them had his lacrosse gear and started swinging the stick but I managed to cover my head. Everything hurt but I think I took one of them down. Maybe two. And then I guess I blacked out."
Mulan doesn't look up from her notebook, and Emma won't raise her head. "Do you know the names of the other boys?"
"Um, I know John—Dorman, John Dorman—was one of them, 'cause I punched him in the face."
"Jesus Christ, Henry," Emma hisses, and Regina reaches out to dig her fingers into Emma's thigh. Shut up, she wants to snap, but she just keeps her eyes on Henry, focuses on him.
"One of them was really tall, I've seen him hanging around with Teddy so I think he's in his grade. And, uh, the other one was—I dunno, all I know is he's on the team with them."
Mulan nods again, sighs heavily. "Why did you hit Teddy Barrett?"
"He was shouting at me."
"I… need to know more than that, Henry."
Henry says nothing, just stares at Mulan for a long moment. "Mom?" he finally says, but he won't look at her. "Can you get me something hot to drink?"
He hasn't asked for anything in two years. He hasn't asked for anything in two whole years and right now—she can't even breathe. She can't breathe. And if he would just look at her, she'd do anything he asked. But this way—this way, she can't. She can't. "No, sweetheart," she says quietly, and Emma's hand covers hers, squeezes hard. "Not until you've finished answering the deputy's questions."
He closes his eyes again, and his jaw is clenching up and he shouldn't do that, it's only going to hurt him more. "Please?" he asks again, and his voice cracks.
She can't breathe, her throat is closing up with tears. "No, baby," she refuses, again, but takes his hand, squeezes hard.
When he finally squeezes back, finally opens his always-beautiful eyes to look at her with such apology in his face, she starts to cry. "I hit him because he threatened my mom," he whispers. "He said he'd get the whole team to break in one night and hold her down and beat her and run a train on her and she wouldn't be able to do anything because there's no magic, and there'd be no one to help her, and no one would even hold it against them. So I hit him. I hit him a lot and I'd hit him again—"
He's crying and she doesn't know if it's anger or pain or hurt and she just—she can't even sit up straight, has her forehead pressed to the back of his hand and can't breathe, can't stop sobbing into his fingers, can't can't can't, and when he moves his cast arm to touch his fingers to her hair, to whisper, "Mom? Mom, please don't be mad at me, please, Mommy, don't be mad at me—"
Some sound rips out of her, she can't even process it, just feels the tearing at her vocal cords, and then Emma's arms are around her, pulling her into her lap but not away from their son, and somehow, someway, that brings her back. "I'm not mad," she manages to get out, and Emma rubs small circles on her back. "I'm not mad, Henry, I could—I'm not mad, I promise."
"But—"
"Later, Henry," Emma murmurs. "Just—keep telling Mulan what happened."
"Was this the first time Teddy made threats like that?"
She can't stop the tears, but they're quiet, non-intrusive, absorbed immediately by the blankets. She can't let go of his hand, either, can't loosen her grip on it even though she knows she should.
"No," Henry answers, and his voice is still shaking.
"How many times before?"
"Once. Maybe twice."
"The other… altercations that have happened. Were there threats against you or your mother involved in those?"
"Yeah. Some of them."
"Which ones?"
"The ones where I hit first."
Emma's whole body flinches, and the movement carries through her own body, shakes the bed slightly. Henry sucks in air between his teeth, but he's still got his fingers against her hair and his hand in hers, and—oh, God.
"All right. I have what I need for the preliminary report. Mayor Ladd and District Attorney Joseph will want to speak to all of you later today to follow up." There's an awkward beat of silence. "Sheriff, when you have a minute…"
"Yeah," Emma says hoarsely. "Five minutes."
The door clicks shut, and the room is still and quiet and she's still crying silently.
"Regina," Emma whispers, right against her neck. "Come back, babe. Come back."
"Mom?"
"He needs you right now. Please come back."
"Mom?"
She lets Emma pull her back, slightly, but doesn't let go of Henry's hand and Emma doesn't make her, just holds her. "Come back," she whispers again, and Regina tries.
She tries, and tries, and tries, and when she finally feels like she can breathe again, she lifts her head from Emma's shoulder, turns to look at Henry. He's staring at her, wide-eyed and worried and so clearly worn out from just this half-hour of activity. "I love you," she says, and he starts to smile. "I love you," she says again, and stands up, leans over the edge of the bed and presses a kiss to his temple, to his cheek, to the tears coming from his eyes again. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
He rasps it back, every time. "I love you, Mom. I love you."