A/N - Gosh, you give a girl a stomach bug and everybody flips out… :p

Seriously guys, I think that's the most replies I've ever gotten that quickly. They all brought a grin to my face - so thank you! It truly is motivating, and gave me the kick in the rump I needed to round out this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

-DSB

The next morning, Bae crept out of bed with the sun, leaving Emma to sleep off her sickness - in hopes that a good rest would kick it from her system. She hadn't been ill again, and though he'd checked multiple times throughout the night, she wasn't feverish, either.

He allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic as he dug a biscuit off of the supply shelf and placed it on the table, wanting to ensure she had easy access to something to calm her stomach as necessary. He took one last glance at his wife, then eased himself out the cabin door. Emma had promised her farmer friend that she'd help muck out some horse stalls - he supposed the "brotherly" thing to do would be to take up her chores while she was feeling unwell.

As the morning progressed, he found himself in agreement with Emma's assessment of the farmer. Bae had done a bit of work, but mostly he'd listened to the old man talk - about the various needs of the farm, the old man's rheumatism, and stories of the man's family. Bae hadn't much to share, but the man didn't seem to mind. Once the stalls were mucked, he pressed a shilling into Bae's hand and sent him home - "You take care of that sister, you hear? She's good people."

Bae grinned. "That she is."

"Have you been ill again?" he asked upon his return.

"Not since this morning," she said with a shrug, leaning in to greet him with a kiss.

He scowled.

"What? I rinsed!"

"I don't like it, Emma. We haven't access to a physician or medication out here and -"

"And nothing. It's run through my system - I was a bit off when I got up but I'm perfectly fine now. I even caught some fish while you were away at the market - they're on the table for you to clean."

He eyed her warily, but her words rang true. And as he watched her throughout the evening, his hope grew that perhaps she was right and that it would serve as but a footnote in the road of their life as peasants. She seemed on the mend; a bit lethargic, to be sure - and straight to bed after dinner, quite unlike herself - but vastly improved from the prior evening.

As he cleaned up from the meal and joined her on the straw mat they called a bed, he wrapped protective arms around his wife and pressed a kiss to her temple. She wriggled closer in her sleep and he sighed - maybe it would be all right after all.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, the kingdom's prince had not stopped ranting about the audacity of the bishop. Though the meeting had been the day prior, he remained upset, and Snow thought perhaps it was time for his anger to have run its course.

"I can't believe he refused to grant the annulment," Charming said, growling in frustration. "She shouldn't be lashed to her kidnapper!"

Snow sighed, steeling herself for a battle. "He's right, though. You can't annul someone's marriage without giving them a say." A pause and then, "And particularly given the news that they've run off together. He's right to wait, to give them a say."

"And what if Emma's been manipulated enough to tell him - what if - what if -"

"And what if she hasn't?" Show asked. "Charming," she said, walking across the room to put a hand on his arm. "Have you so little faith in your daughter?"

"I suppose not," he replied, hanging his head. He drew his wife into his arms, holding her close against his chest as he took a steadying breath. "I just - son of the Dark One. Whatever were we thinking?"

"That we hadn't a choice," Snow replied, looking up at him. "You know Emma. You offered - she refused to let you sacrifice yourself. We raised her to see family, to see love as the most important thing of all. She would have bartered her own soul to keep us safe."

"And yet I'm afraid that's just what she did."

Snow pulled back, making a face at him. "Dearest, don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic? Emma never expressed any concerns about the boy. On the contrary, she jumped to his defense. And what would he gain from running off with her, hiding in a cave as you found they'd been doing? He already had the advantage of her title. Stealing away with her, against her will, in the dead of night - staying gone for months - it seems there must be far more to the story than that."

"But I thought we agreed... Her blanket!"

Snow patted his cheek. "I had much time to think while bedridden. I do agree it's strange that she'd leave it behind - but I fear I was quick to jump to conclusions based on that one small fact. I just can't see how he could have stolen her away, hidden her this long, if she wasn't complicit in it."

"But why-"

"She's a price on her head, Charming. And she's her mother's daughter. What did I do when Regina put a price on mine?"

Charming sighed. "You ran."

"Precisely. And just as I kept myself safe - Emma will do the same. Perhaps she'll even be at an advantage, having the boy to help her - much as I was once I found you. When the time is right, she'll come back to us, whole and healthy and unharmed. You just have to trust that we've taught her well, Charming - she'll take care of herself."

Charming grunted, tired of the argument. He wasn't going to win it - never would with Snow - but he didn't agree. Emma was in danger, he could feel it in his bones. And furthermore... he was certain it was all due to that boy.

Unfortunately for Bae, it seemed his optimism about Emma's illness was misplaced. Though it waxed and waned - often in the same day - she could never quite seem to kick it. This went on for a matter of weeks, Bae worrying himself to the point of distraction. Emma, of course, insisted she was "fine" and "just a bit off," but she still couldn't stand the smell of squirrel and he swore he'd never seen someone sleep so much in his life.

She didn't seem to be getting worse, but she also didn't seem to be getting better, either. On top of it all, her temper seemed particularly short - and though he might have been willing to put that off Emma being Emma, he couldn't so easily excuse away the bouts of frustrated tears that she suddenly seemed prone to. That was unquestionably new, and though it didn't seem as if it should correlate to her illness, the timing was simply uncanny.

Perhaps, he thought, it stemmed from being cooped up in the cabin all the time. Between the news of the town being on the lookout and her illness, Emma had stayed closer to the cabin than ever, rarely even venturing into the yard for more than a few minutes at a time. He had a notion that if he could find a way for her to enjoy the fresh air, perhaps her symptoms would abate - if not the sickness itself, at least some of the toll it was taking. So he paid a visit to Emma's farmer friend, begging some rope and the loan of a saw in exchange for the promise of several mornings spent helping to shear the sheep.

Emma, if she'd been well, would have demanded to know what he was doing, spending several days in the woods turning trees into planks and lashing them together - but being not at her sharpest, he managed to slip it by with her unawares. In the end, he ended up with a satisfactory - if slightly crooked - garden swing. He'd thought he might hang it on the porch, but upon finding that the cost for a few nails was that of a week's worth of eggs, he settled for tying it up in the trees that bordered the yard. It was set at the edge of the woods, within ten feet of the door but with plenty of room to sway and enjoy the warm spring breezes.

He was chopping asparagus for the evening's dinner stew when she awoke. He watched her stretch, fighting back the nausea she wouldn't admit to still having. "Morning beautiful," he quipped, and she stuck out her tongue at him. He'd learned by now not to ask how she was feeling - her answer was always the same, never truthful - so instead he put down the folding knife and ambled to where she was perched on the corner of the bed, tying up her hair.

"I made you something."

"Oh?"

"It's in the yard. C'mon." Upon seeing the scowl on her face, he continued. "It'll be worth it. I promise."

He grabbed her hand - pausing as she stood and steadied herself - and hauled her out the front door. He stepped through, then pushed her in front of him - only to nearly trip over her when she stopped cold.

"Bae? You made this?"

He shrugged. "Thought it might be nice for you to get outside a bit more."

She flew across the yard - more energy than he'd seen in weeks - and dropped onto the bench, pushing off with her toes. "It's lovely! Best present anyone's ever given to me," she said, patting the spot next to her.

Obediently he sat. "Ever?"

She thought, screwing up her face in concentration. "It's certainly the most thoughtful. And - yes. Best."

He tried to hide his grin, but it was a bit useless, and she elbowed him in the ribs. "C'mon, you're allowed to take a little pride in that."

"I suppose." A beat and then, "I'm glad you like it."

"It's impossibly sweet. You're a good man, Baelfire, and a good husband." He snorted. "What? You are!"

"Says who?"

"Your wife, for starters... and I believe she's the one most qualified to make that determination, hm?"

"I suppose." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "It's just the truth." Another moment passed, as her toes pushed off the ground, allowing the swing to lilt lightly in the breeze. "What was yours?"

He squinted at her. "My what?"

"Best present."

He looked taken aback for a moment, inhaled, then blew out a breath. "My best - boy, that's a lot of years. I don't know." He thought for a moment more. "Is it a cop-out if I say you? Not -" he noticed her raised eyebrow - "as a gift from my father, which was... so wrong... but you choosing to share your life with me, to give me something to fight for again, something to live for. I'd forgotten what it was live, not to simply survive day to day, but to truly live. I think it's that."

A beat passed, and then she leaned in to kiss him. As they broke apart, she grinned. "Boy, a garden swing sure sounds shallow after that."

Weeks of having easy access to the spring air hadn't cured Emma. He hadn't really believed it would, but in his desperation, he had hoped. He'd convinced himself that things were better; the naps had mostly abated and she hadn't been sick in a number of days. Of course, then there was a lean day with the traps, where the only thing he seemed able to catch was a squirrel - and without anything else for dinner he couldn't justify turning it into jerky, as he'd been doing with those he'd caught over the past few weeks. So he cautiously allowed her to cook it for dinner, only to catch her running out to the garden once the meat started frying.

He'd had enough. Something had to be done. It had been four weeks of this illness - or five, maybe? He'd lost count - and every time he thought she was improving, she backslid all over again. Of course, what to do was the question.

The answer took a few days; market day led Bae to town to fetch more flour for biscuits and maybe a new water pail, as the drip had turned into more of a leak. The pail had been a bust - he'd have to try to fix the one they had - but the flour was cheap enough to buy a pound. As he stood at the grain merchant's booth, a tall mall walked up behind him, the signature hat of a physician immediately piquing Bae's interest.

"Allo!" the grain merchant greeted the man, grinning. "Ow's my best customer?"

The man grunted. "Just returned from seeing Old Man Abrams... family's begged me to save him, but I'm afraid he's not long for this world."

The grain merchant clucked in sympathy even as Bae's eyes widened, his suspicions confirmed. Perhaps he could talk to the man, get some counsel, something to calm him as an anxious husband - no, brother, he reminded himself. A thin layer of protection, to be sure, but anything was worth it if it kept Emma from being caught.

Before he could ask, the physician continued, loosing a heavy sigh. "To top it all off, I promised my wife that I'd bring her back asparagus for dinner, and no one has it on offer."

Bae's eyes lit up. "We've some," he piped up, causing the men to look over at him. "Back at my homestead. Walk's not far."

"How much are you asking?"

Bae bit his lip, careful to keep his voice level. "You're a physician?"

"Son, you can't set your fee based on someone's trade! Of all the gall-"

"No, no," he replied anxiously, shaking his head. "I've no mind to do that. It's just that - my - my sister, she's been ill, I'm terribly worried about her. If you could just come look at her, let me know what's to be done - I'll gladly give you all of the asparagus you can carry."

The physician grunted, frowning. "My workday's done, but I suppose... can't have an unhappy wife now. Fine. No treatment, just an assessment. Treatment'll cost you extra."

"That sounds a fair deal," Bae replied. "If we leave at once, you'll have the asparagus back to your wife in time for dinner."

The sound of voices roused Emma from her slumber. One she recognized as her husband's; the other unknown. Her eyes darted around immediately, trying to suss out a hiding place, but the men were at the door before she could so much as throw the covers back. Out of options, she instead burrowed deeper under the blankets, hiding her face in the layers, just enough space to draw a breath and keep from suffocating. The voices faded in; Bae's was one, but she couldn't recognize the man questioning him.

"She's far more tired than usual," the man said brusquely.

"Yes," Bae replied.

"And frequently nauseated."

"Yes."

"But no cough, no flushing, no other signs of illness?"

"No, sir."

She peered from beneath the blankets to find the man squinting in thought. A physician, judging from his attire. Whatever was Bae thinking, bringing that man here? He turned back to Bae. "She's your sister, you say?"

"Yes," Bae said once again.

"And she's unmarried?"

Bae fidgeted. "If she had a husband, would I be the one fretting over her?"

"Hmm." The physician seemed to concede his point, pursing his lips. He thought for a moment, then continued in the same vein, not ready to let the subject drop. "She hasn't a sweetheart, a beau, no chance of-"

"It's just us," Bae replied, cutting him off before he could press for further details. "My mother was killed when I was four. And my father..." He shook his head, sighing. "It's just us."

"Hmm," the physician replied again, his brow furrowing. Emma clamped her eyes shut as he walked over to where she lay, and she felt his clammy fingers brush across her forehead. "She's no fever, son. Exhaustion and digestive discontent, well, that could be any number of things. Likely she just picked up an ailment that's stubborn in its passing. You've been ill, too?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Huh," he said again, tapping a finger against his lips and pondering for a moment. "Where do you get your water?"

Bae's thumb jutted back over his shoulder, gesturing towards the back of the cabin. "The creek up the way, sir."

"Perhaps that's it. Coming from out of the area, maybe it's not setting well with her system. Might be that it's contaminated upstream somehow. You can try boiling it." He offered a shrug, his expression giving away that he wasn't sold on the solution.

"And that's it? No diagnosis, no remedy, just... boil the water?"

The elder man chuckled. "I'm afraid it's all I can do for you, son. If she had a beau I'd say - but - no, she'll likely just need to ride it out. If she develops a fever or she's unable to keep any food in her belly at all, come find me. Otherwise, it's likely not fatal, if that's any comfort."

Bae's face fell. "There's nothing more to do?"

"Just time and rest, son. She's on the mend. She'll be well soon enough, just give it time."

Bae nodded, enthusiasm zapped from his demeanor. He walked towards the door and turned back, clearly expecting the physician to follow. Instead, he found the physician rooted to his spot near the bed, staring at the crown of Emma's head.

"You know there's a missing princess. The kingdom's been searching."

"I heard tell of it at the market last week. How strange!"

"Seems the Dark One cast a spell on the royal family, enchanted the young princess, bewitched her to marry his son. They lived in peace for a matter of days before the son stole off with her in the night. No telling how nefarious his motives, son of the Dark One and all."

Bae fought to keep his expression steady, instead letting out a long, low whistle. "Sounds like quite the mess up there."

"You don't know anything about that, do you son?"

Bae laughed. "Are you insinuating my ill sister is the princess?" The physician shrugged and Bae continued. "Does this look like the secret hideout of a runaway princess? The corner of the roof's caved in, the mattress is hemorrhaging straw and I can't even afford a visit from a physician. Something tells me even a displaced princess would have better means than those of a sheep farmer who hasn't any sheep."

"Suppose so," the physician replied, sounding reluctant but resolute. "It's just my duty, you know, as a subject…"

Bae nodded. "I understand. I'd keep an eye out, too, if I were you."

He looked Bae over, seeming to find him trustworthy as he visibly relaxed. Bae continued, "Let's go grab your bushel and get you on home to your wife - I bet she's anxious to see you."

"Or to get her hands on that asparagus," the physician said with a chuckle.

Emma heard the door bang shut behind the men. Voices and rustling persisted outside for a few minutes, as she lay in bed, seething. It was one thing for Bae to worry as he did - endearing, even - but this was a matter of pure stupidity. She was going to have his head for this one.

Bae gave the physician a wave as he set off, standing just outside the door until the man disappeared from sight. He walked back into the cabin and stared at Emma's frail form, letting out a sigh. It had been worth a shot.

"Is he gone?" came the whisper from a crevice in the blankets.

"Nearly out to the road by now, I'd imagine."

"Good," Emma said, tossing back the covers and springing up in the bed - leveling a glare at Bae even as he could see her fight the nausea that stemmed from sitting up too quickly. "Now you can tell me what on earth that was about. Baelfire, whatever were you thinking bringing that man here?!"

"He's a physician, Emma," he said, tone of his voice betraying the pleading he knew he'd have to do. "You've been ill so long and-"

"I'm not! I've told you I'm on the mend - and the physician said the same. It was a waste for him to come out here - paid money we don't have -"

"I paid him in asparagus. We certainly have enough."

"-and it put us needlessly in danger."

"Emma, your illness puts you in danger, don't you see? If anything should happen to you, if I didn't get you treated because I was worried about getting caught… Better to have you healthy and at home than have to explain your death to your parents, to-" He stopped.

"Go on, say it."

His eyes fell to the ground as he shook his head.

"Bae, the fate of the kingdom does not rest on your actions. You've gotten this idea that if they catch me, you'll catch the blame while I go home and all is well - but all is not well, don't you see? You always, always forget the part where my happiness rests on having you by my side." She stepped towards him, smacking her hand lightly upside his head. "For such a brilliant boy, you can be so stupid sometimes."

He hung his head further, only to feel her wrap her arms around him and pull him tightly to her. "I love you so much, but you infuriate me at times. Do you have any idea what a fright you gave me?"

"I'm sorry," he said, voice muffled by her hair. "I've just been so worried that-"

"Bae, I'm fine."

He sighed. His wife was both ill and angry with him. He'd proven today that he could do nothing about the former, so he thought it best to resolve the latter to the best of his ability. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey," she replied, catching him under his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You could trust me?" He sighed again, but she continued. "I've told you I'm fine. A bit off - yes - but not in grave danger. This will pass, all illnesses do, and you have my word that if it worsens and the risk from the illness is greater than the risk from capture, I'll seek proper treatment. For now..." She shot him a smile, then leaned up to peck him on the cheek. "The best thing you can do is what you've been doing. Let me get my rest, make sure I'm fed and watered. Just - for goodness sakes - don't make it squirrel."

He chuckled, pleased to see her humor making a return. "All right, dear heart. There shall be no more squirrel."