"What on earth...?"
Whale stands frozen in the doorway as he struggles to comprehend the scene in front of him. Gold sits perched on the throw of a dingy, blood-dirtied bed, his clothes creased, his hair sticking up ludicrously, as he stares down at the Sheriff of all people; the woman lying bloodied and bare but for her underwear.
"What the hell's going on!?"
He turns uneasily to Jefferson, who simply shrugs as he pops up from behind him, raising an amused brow at the blonde's semi-clad state.
"Don't ask, don't tell, Dr Whale. That's the name of this little game. All you need to know is that your very future may just rely on getting this young woman better, so I'd suggest you start sorting her out if I were you."
Gold orders tersely. Whale baulks slightly at the Pawnbroker's rough tone, edging closer to the bed uncertainly. He has seen numerous injuries while studying his profession, but this... Well, this is something else entirely.
"Is she-... Has she been communicative at all?"
"Wh-why don't you just ask me... Dumbass..."
The Sheriff mutters - her eyes remaining closed and her breathing shallow - and the madman lets out a harsh bark of laughter. Raising a brow, Gold turns to the doctor who blushes in his confusion.
"Yes. I'd say she's more or less communicative."
"I see."
Whale replies. Placing the small bag that contains all he could think of to bring from the hospital, he moves to sit on the bed; clearing his throat as he tries to ignore the little man that perches opposite him, but Gold shows little sign of moving from the blonde's side.
"I'm going to take off these, uh, dressings, Miss Swan... It may sting a little..."
"Pretty sure I can handle it, asshole."
The Sheriff admonishes with a hitch to her voice. Frowning at the gleeful smirk Jefferson offers from the corner, Whale pulls soiled cotton gently away from Emma's wrists and hisses through his teeth.
"Oh, shit..."
"Fix her."
Gold speaks up sternly.
"I-... I mean-... Her hand... I can't just-"
"-You can. You can, and you will. Never mind her hand right now. Set it. Stitch it up. Do whatever you need to do. I don't care if she's never going to be able to take up playing the piano. Just make it so that she at least has a chance to live and begrudge the fact."
"Sh-it at piano."
Emma chips in.
"Well, there you go. Fix her."
Gold repeats impatiently. Whale looks from Emma to the pawnbroker and frowns, leaning forward to better inspect her injuries before pulling a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and reaching for his bag.
"How long ago did this happen? She should have been brought to the hospital straight away! I mean, she's lucky she hasn't bled out! And here, look, her first and second metacarpals are completely shattered!... I can set her hand. But there's a good chance she'll have limited use of her fingers seeing as you've left it so long. As for the wounds, really, she needs blood, but-... The human body is resilient... I will clean them and close them, but, without anaesthetic... Sheriff, this isn't going to be much fun I'm afraid..."
"Because up 'til now... I-it's been a walk in the park!?"
Emma hisses without opening her eyes.
"I think Miss Swan is giving you her go-ahead, Whale. As am I. Do what needs to be done. I just want her alive. And I want her coherent."
Gold orders.
"I-... I like those odds, too..."
The blonde agrees, and Whale nods, offering her what he hopes resembles a reassuring smile as her eyes flutter open to regard him blearily. Judging from the scowl she musters in return, he guesses his attempt has fallen a little short.
"Alright, dearie, let's see what the good doctor can do."
Gold sighs, pushing himself up from the bed and beckoning that the Hatter should accompany him out of the room.
"You're sure you can trust him not to just blurt this all out when he leaves?"
Jefferson frowns as he closes the door behind them.
"I never said anything about letting him leave."
"No answer?"
Ruby enquires tentatively as the Mayor slams the phone back down in its cradle.
"I don't understand! Where the hell is he?!"
Regina cries.
"Well... It's like the middle of the night... Maybe he-"
"-Miss Lucas, it could be the man's own funeral, and Mr Glass would make it his priority to tend to my needs... Do you want to know what I think? I think the miserable bastard is drunk! I think the lowly no-good piece of-"
"-Maybe!... Maybe he is... But whatever the reason... He's not answering the phone."
Ruby raises her voice in an attempt to placate the Mayor.
"Well, that's not good enough!"
The darker woman snaps angrily; slamming her hand down on the table between them.
The table both she and Emma, have explored each other on.
Glancing over at the letter opener that peeks from the stationary pot, she shudders.
"I need to go look. I can't just sit here! I-"
"-It's fine! I'll go check the building, okay? You can trust me. You stay here with Henry, and I'll call you as soon as I-"
"-No."
The Mayor interrupts firmly.
"What? Why no!?"
"Because it has to be me!"
"Regina, I know you feel-"
"-Quiet! You know nothing about how I feel! I'm sorry, but you don't. I accept that a woman you call a friend - a good friend - is missing, and I imagine that's a terrible thought, but it is in no way the same as how I feel!... It has to be me. I have to find her!"
"So... What? We're supposed to just wait until morning when you can find yourself a babysitter before we go look for her? And then what?! If anything bad happens to her, am I supposed just to apologise and say 'Gee, I'm sorry, Emma, but it turns out we were playing a game of who cares about you more, and Regina won, and-"
"-Shut your mouth you foolish, ridiculous girl! No! I will not have such insolence in this house! It has to be me that finds her, because that woman, along with Henry, is the closest thing I have to a family, and if something happens to her, then I risk losing not just Emma, but him as well! If something happens to her-... I need to be the one that stops it... It has to be me, because I-... I have to prove how I feel..."
"To who!?"
"Emma!"
"Emma knows how you feel! You both love each other very much, and while that's just great, I don't think it's a good enough reason to-"
"-No! We don't! And that's precisely the reason I need to do this. She needs to understand what went on here tonight... That people sat and fought and fretted about her. That she matters. That she is loved... I can't let it be you who makes her realise that... I just can't..."
Regina shakes her head, and the waitress casts her eyes to the ceiling in frustration, before studying the darker woman with silent respect as dark eyes glitter with tears and the Mayor's self-composure comes crashing all the way down as she rests her head in her hands, her mouth trembling tellingly beneath the shadows cast by her palms.
"Okay. It has to be you... Fine. Then go. Go find her."
Ruby sighs.
"I can't! Henry-"
"-Will be fine. He's asleep... And besides, if he wakes up, I'm good with kids."
"You're-... What?"
Regina raises her head slowly, her eyes pink and face white. The waitress shrugs and smiles at her sweetly.
"Just go. You're right, it has to be you."
"You'll-... You're going to-..."
"I'm going to stay here and try to get some sleep on this sofa, and if Henry wakes up, or cries out, or anything like that, I'll deal with him."
"You will?"
"Of course! I'd do it for Emma, so I guess, I'll do it for you. Just... Promise me you'll find her, okay?"
"... I will... I'll find her if I have to burn this hateful town to the ground..."
Regina vows. And, if she had expected Ruby to treat such melodrama with a sarcastic retort or giggle, she had expected wrong. The waitress merely nods, her expression grave and mouth drawn.
She has no doubt the brunette means every word.
And that's why it has to be Regina.
"Hold still, I'm almost done."
"I am holding still! Stop going so fucking slow!"
Emma snarls, and Whale glares up at her as the young woman watches him work with gritted teeth. He has learnt in the last half hour that the Sheriff is quite the force to be reckoned with; weak with blood loss and fever or not. She seems almost oblivious to the pain she must surely feel as the sharp flash of the needle works with practised precision through her broken flesh; seeming more intent on growling at him than with biting back the screams of agony he would have expected given her condition.
"You're supposed to be working on my arm..."
She hisses.
"I am working on your arm!"
"Then quit fucking looking at the rest of me!"
She admonishes angrily, and Whale scowls at her irritably, but can't deny that he has rarely gone about his work in the presence of such a splendid view.
If you don't want me looking at you, then don't look that way in your fucking underwear, sweetheart... Because you are one tight, fuckable little piece of-
"-Ow! What the fuck are you doing!?"
She yells at him; teeth flashing in a primal display of rage as the needle dips just a little too rough and a little too deep.
"I'm doing my job! I didn't realise you were a doctor, Sheriff! I didn't realise you knew how to do this better than me!"
"I know when someone's butchering a p-piss easy job! I've had fucking stitches before, you asshole!"
She seethes, and his gaze lowers briefly to the scar beneath her ribs.
"Yes... It looks like you're somewhat of a veteran..."
"Fuck you."
She snaps, but her voice is low, for which he's glad.
This pattern to the Sheriff's behaviour has become somewhat predictable since he's started working on her; a schizophrenic natural disaster of hate and rage before she tires herself out and succumbs to her pain for a few minutes, allowing him to get on with his work in peace.
"... Where are we?"
Emma whispers, breaking her silence, and the doctor glances up distractedly, noting the way that her attention seems fixed on the door as she keeps her voice low as if in fear of being overheard. Suddenly, he comes to the realisation that a vast amount of the crap she's been giving him since being left alone with her has been an act.
Well.
Partially.
Now, as she speaks in a voice so low he has to lean forward to make out her fear-filled words, he frowns; desisting with the needle.
"What do you mean?"
"Where is this place?"
"You don't know?"
He frowns.
"Would I be fucking asking if I did?"
She hisses desperately.
"I-... How can you not know!?... Emma, what the hell is going on here? What happened?!"
"I don't know... I d-don't know... I-... Please just tell me ...Help me!... Please?"
"Of course I will! But, I mean, what the hell is-"
"-How's she doing?"
Gold sweeps into the room with more grace than a man with a cane should possess; dark eyes finding the blonde's knowingly. She looks away; lashes fluttering and limbs going weakly limp, but she suspects it might be too little too late.
"You're looking better, dearie..."