Chapter 2

Emma had expected tears, anger, despair, something she could have reacted to. However, she had not expected Henry to stand in front of her and just continue to stare at her. "Kid? Say something," it came quietly from her after a while.

"Can we just go home?" he asked, returning her eye contact firmly.

"Yes, of course. If that's what you want." Henry's reaction greatly unsettled Emma, and she would have preferred that they would not talk about it at home. She knew it was nonsense, but she felt like it wouldn't become real until she said it out loud within their four walls, and she just didn't feel ready for it yet. However, she doubted that would change and Henry's needs always came first for her. Hesitantly, she put an arm around his shoulders and when he didn't pull away from her, they slowly started moving and covered the short distance in silence.

No sooner had Henry kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket neatly on its hook than he slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and climbed the stairs. "I'm going to do homework!"

Perplexed, Emma still stood near the door, pulling her gray knit cap off her head as she watched him go. Actually, she should have expected it; Henry, just like her, liked to work things out with himself, and she never in her life expected that fact to bother her now, either. But after it had cost her such an effort to tell her child the upsetting news, she wanted to get the inevitable conversation over with right away and no longer bury it inside herself so as not to hurt anyone around her.

Exhausted from the day, the soccer game, the news, the simple act of breathing, Emma dragged herself up the stairs, washed the blood out of her shirt, and then threw it in the washing machine before getting in the shower and letting the hot water beat down on her. She had been doing too well in the past year, so that had to be the reason why fate was now slapping her so brutally in the face. She couldn't make any other sense of why something like this was happening to her now, when they were finally a happy family. She had no idea how to tell Regina. She would fight without question, but even the bravest knights were not immortal and she didn't know how her friend would cope with another death of a loved one.

Only when the water turned cold did Emma realize how long she had been standing here brooding, turning off the faucet and wrapping a mottled gray towel around her middle. She had already put fresh clothes in the bathroom before she left, so a moment later she was standing in front of the mirror in comfy dark sweatpants and a light green long-sleeved shirt, blow-drying her hair.

She entered the kitchen a quarter of an hour later and, glancing at her cell phone, realized she had missed two calls from Regina. "Oh, damn it," she muttered after realizing how late it already was and pressed the callback button after dropping into her chair at the kitchen table where she had a view of the door.

It rang three times before picking up. "I hope you have a good excuse!" it came without greeting from Regina, and you could hear from her tone that she was not one for joking.

"Regina, I picked up Henry, was still out with him and his friends and lost track of time. I'm sorry," it came truthfully from her as she put her head in her palm.

"And what do you have a phone for?" Regina snorted and Emma felt a lump form in her throat as she realized she didn't believe her.

"You still think I'm cheating on you, isn't that it? I'm home, do you want me to give you Henry?"

Regina was silent for a while and Emma already thought she had simply hung up or put the phone aside when she heard her friend exhale for a long time. Her voice was softer when she spoke next, "No, don't bother. Just...try to remember next time that I'll be waiting for you when we make an appointment. And if you don't show up then, I'll worry about you."

Emma closed her eyes and nodded, even though Regina couldn't see it. "I can still come by now if you want me to." When she opened her eyes again, however, she saw Henry leaning in the doorway, who must have approached quietly. "On the other hand... Henry seems to be done with his homework, can't we just get comfortable tonight? I could cook for you when you get home."

"God forbid! If anything, I'll cook. Or we could order in."

"Sounds good." Emma even managed a slight smile. "See you later, then."

"See you."

The smartphone landed on the table and Emma looked up at her son, who was now slowly making his way into the room. On his feet he wore only thick socks, which explained the lack of noise as he came down the stairs.

"How would you feel about hot cocoa?" it came quietly from Emma, who just wanted to pretend that everything was fine as long as Henry did likewise.

Henry lifted a shoulder noncommittally and Emma took this as approval, so shortly after she was already filling two cups, warming the cocoa, and finishing with a dollop of cream and a good pinch of cinnamon on both drinks. She set the cups down on the table where Henry had meanwhile taken a seat and from where he had been watching her. "Granny always makes it look better, but I hope you still enjoy it."

"Thanks." Henry looked down at his cup, noting that his birth mother had sprinkled a rather failed heart of cinnamon. "Since when do you know?"

When Emma looked up, her eyes met Henry's and his green eyes, so similar to hers, reflected uncertainty and fear, feelings she had also been carrying around for a while. He didn't have to spell out what his question was referring to. "For about a week."

"What does Mom say about it?"

"She doesn't know yet."

In disbelief, Henry's mouth opened a tiny crack as he was obviously searching for words. "You haven't told her? What about Grandma and Grandpa?"

Emma just shook her head briefly. "You're the first person I've told."

This news only seemed to shock him more. "You've known you were sick for a week and you haven't told anyone?"

"I had to come to terms with it myself first, kiddo. Don't be mad, it took me a little while before I was sure I could handle it, okay? But Regina's starting to get suspicious, she's obviously noticing that I'm acting different than usual." Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, then stared into her cocoa.

"Maybe the diagnosis is wrong, after all. That happens sometimes, right?"

Emma couldn't help but smile sadly as she looked at him again, the hope on his face literally lighting up his features. "That's true, but the diagnosis isn't wrong. It was actually nearly certain after they drew my blood, but it's been certain since the bone marrow aspiration two weeks ago." Emma saw how it began to work in Henry's head and he had finally come to a conclusion. Without him having to say anything, she nodded. "Yeah, when I didn't come home at night two weeks ago, I was at the hospital. I couldn't convince them that I might as well spend the night after the puncture in my bed at home."

Henry pondered, staring thoughtfully out the window. Although it was still early, the time of year ensured that the sun was already beginning to set, bathing the kitchen in an orange-red light. "What kind of cancer do you have?"

"Leukemia. But please don't ask me for details, the exact name gives me a knot in my tongue and that would be just what I need." She tried to joke, as she could hardly bear Henry's serious expression, but she was unsuccessful; his expression remained unmoved.

"Is it going to kill you?"

The question she had been most afraid of now came to her much sooner than she had hoped, and she thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Possibly. But if I start treatment early, it doesn't have to happen. The doctor says there's a good chance I'll be fine since it was caught early enough."

Henry nodded silently, and as he eyed her, tears did come to his eyes now.

"Come on over here, kid." Emma reached out her arms to her son and he willingly dropped into the embrace. These tight, intimate hugs had become a rarity and Emma enjoyed every second of it as if it were her last.

When he let go of her again, Henry wiped the tear tracks from his face with his sweater sleeve and took a seat in the chair right next to her where his other mother usually sat. "Are you scared?"

Emma nodded. "But not of dying. I'm afraid of leaving you."

"Then don't."

Emma smiled and stroked his already completely disheveled hair. "If it were that easy."

"What about mom? You'll have to tell her. And maybe she knows a spell that can cure you."

Emma hated to dash one of Henry's hopes after another, but she didn't want to lie to him either. "I haven't been able to tell her yet because...I'm worried about her. I don't know how she'll take it and if she can handle it. Because I doubt there's anything you can do with a spell. Don't you think we'd have heard about it by now if news started making the rounds that people's cancer suddenly magically disappeared?"

"There have been reports of that!" he did not let go with a nod.

"In which, however, there was always a plausible explanation in the end. Henry, it's sweet of you to want to help me, but I'm afraid in this case we're not going to get anywhere with fairy tales, and I'm going to have to rely on modern medicine."

Henry still looked at her doubtfully and it was clear to see that it was working in his head.

"I'll definitely ask her, I promise. I just don't want you to get your hopes up and then be disappointed."

He nodded and finally took a first sip of his cocoa, whereupon Emma did the same. Immediately, Henry screwed up his face, which made Emma, and eventually him, smile slightly.

"Don't say anything. I know it's too sweet. Food and drink preparation has just never been my strong suit."

"It's good." Henry put his hand on his mother's and looked into her eyes.

Emma's heart tightened at the gesture, but she smiled bravely at him and returned the look.

"I don't want you to die," it finally came softly from him.

Emma nodded. "I don't want to either. And I'm fighting, you can be sure of that. To be honest, I'm less afraid of that right now than I am of talking to your mom," she finally admitted.

"I could spend the night at Max's tonight," Henry suggested. "Then you guys can talk in peace in the evening and not have to worry about me."

"You're not bothering us when you're in your room, are you?" Emma retorted in surprise, but Henry shook his head.

"You're not afraid of Mom's reaction for no reason, you know her. And I know her, too. When I'm around, she'll hold back her feelings and you know how she is then. She doesn't want me to see her when she's weak," he explained, sounding far too adult.

Emma hesitated; she knew he was right in what he said, but as irrational as it was, at that moment the selfishness in her that preferred to have him around spoke up.

"I can stay, of course, if you want me to."

Emma smirked and tousled his hair. "How is it that you always know what I'm thinking?"

He shrugged and finished his cup. "You're just my ma."

"Yeah, I am. Thank goodness." She eyed Henry, sitting next to her like that, and once again couldn't believe that he really was her son and how big and grown up he had become. It was impossible for her to comprehend what she had done to deserve something as wonderful as him. "Henry... If you have any more questions, by all means, ask me, anytime, okay?"

"I have hundreds of questions, but you probably feel the same way. Anyway, I'm glad you told me," it then came from him honestly.

She nodded and pressed a kiss to his hair. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure, what?" He looked at her expectantly.

"I don't want you to act any different now that you know. No pitying looks, no permanent overprotectiveness. And if I want to play soccer with you and your friends, you let me play, understand? I'm convinced my body will tell me soon enough when I'm overdoing it, but until then, I don't feel like being treated like I'm already dead."

"Mom won't think so, though."

"I know. But this is between your mom and me. She's in charge of worrying and caring, you're not, okay?" Emma looked at him urgently, only now realizing that she had grabbed him around the upper arm even as she spoke, whereupon she withdrew her hand.

Henry bit his lip. "I don't know if I can promise you."

"Henry..."

"You say that so easily. Imagine if it was the other way around and I asked that of you!"

"I certainly don't imagine what it would be like if you were in my place," she countered heatedly. "And even if I did, you're my kid, not me yours."

"I'll try, okay? But I'm not going to promise you. Your nosebleed today, surely that was a symptom, right? You never get nosebleeds unless someone hit you. That's warning enough from your body, isn't it?"

"And I did stop right away, didn't I? Henry, I can't and won't stay in bed from now on just because something might happen to me outside. I had hoped that I would only have to have this conversation with Regina and not with you as well," she admitted, brushing her hair back from her forehead in a gesture of exasperation.

"But then I want to know what can happen," Henry demanded.

Questioningly, Emma looked at him. She didn't know what he meant by that.

So he specified his demand: "I want to know exactly what the symptoms of your illness are and what can happen if you overdo it. I want to know what to do then and how to help you."

Emma took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "What would you think about me asking my doctor to tell you all this sometime? I'm not good at that sort of thing, as you know."

Henry nodded immediately. "Yes, that would be awesome!"

"All right, it's a deal. But until then, you don't mutate into a mini Regina Mills, you understand?"

Henry grinned. "No one can do that, trust me."

Emma raised her eyebrows and swayed her head thoughtfully. "There might indeed be something to that." Her gaze went to the wall clock and then back to Henry. "Your mom will be back in just under two hours, do you want to do something together until then?"

Henry seemed to think for a moment before getting up and putting the used spoons and cups in the dishwasher. He then turned back to Emma, "Well, we could cook her something."

"Haven't we been through this? She probably won't be so thrilled when she comes home and the house is on fire. I probably won't be able to placate her with my possible death there, either."

"Who says you're taking charge?"

"Hear, hear." Emma stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Now don't tell me you can cook all of a sudden."

Henry shrugged. "Mom taught me a few things, and I took a summer class once. Which she coerced me into, to be fair. But I did enjoy it, unexpectedly. It's just that she doesn't usually let anyone touch her sacred pots and pans."

Henry's sanctimonious grin alone was enough to convince Emma. "Already persuaded. What are we cooking?"

"Let's make something simple. A potato casserole, for instance. If it's too sophisticated, she'll get suspicious right away," he explained, taking the large oven dish from the cupboard where Regina always prepared her lasagna.

"What do you mean?"

"A simple pan of casserole is delicious and not a difficult dish. She'll just be happy we made food. If the effort is greater and the preparation more difficult, then she'll think we've done something wrong or have bad news. Which is kind of true, but you certainly don't want to spoil her mood before dinner, do you?"

The blonde could only stand there for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Henry. "You've clearly grown up way too much."

"That and too many sessions with Archie, I guess," he said before turning his attention to peeling the potatoes.

"That, too, yes," she agreed with him. "What can I do?"

Ultimately, Henry ended up doing the bulk of the work, and Emma watched him do it, sitting at the table. At least she had grated the cheese, realizing once again that standing for long periods of time was straining her more than it should. Unreasonable or not, this was one of the reasons she kept up her morning jog, even though it was getting harder to keep up every day. As long as it was still somehow possible, she would not say goodbye to this ritual.

Just as the cheese in the pan was taking on a golden hue, she heard the key in the front door and sat up straighter in her chair. It wasn't long, either, before Regina appeared in the doorway. Emma just couldn't get enough of the sight of her. The business suit she was wearing was not wrinkled from wearing it, but still fit as perfectly as it had in the morning, as if she had just taken it out of the closet. The steep crease on her forehead, however, did not bode well.

"Was I not clear enough when I told you not to cook?" she asked. Her face immediately relaxed a bit, however, as Emma sauntered over to her, wrapped her arms around her neck, and pressed a welcome kiss to her lips.

"I didn't. That was Henry," she then replied in a whisper, and both women turned to their son, who was just finishing the dishes.

"You cooked, Henry?", Regina then wanted to know in surprise.

"Why are you both so surprised that I can cook? You especially should know after you taught me, right?" he asked.

Regina smiled proudly, the way Emma only knew her to do when it came to Henry, before walking over to her son and wrapping her arms around him from behind. "My little prince is a man, where has the time gone!"

"Mom! Your little prince doesn't like it when you cuddle him so tight and squeeze smacks on his cheek," he countered, squirming out of her embrace.

Regina grinned and left the kitchen. "I'll change quickly," she called back to the two of them.

"Now let her have that pleasure for a few more minutes," Emma commented. She was happy that Regina was in such a good mood, but on the other hand, it also bothered her to have to give her the worst news ever at just such a moment. Thoughtfully, she stepped next to Henry at the kitchen counter and fetched cutlery and plates from the cupboards to set the table.

Henry looked back at her and took a deep breath. "What do you think she's going to do?"

"Run away, I guess," Emma replied quietly. In this regard, they were not only similar, but absolutely the same. They both realized they couldn't run away from problems, but they needed the distance and a little time to process what they had heard.

Henry nodded, thinking the same, and filled himself a plate with casserole after taking the pan out of the oven.

"What are you up to?"

"I'm taking my food upstairs. You guys clearly need to talk in peace."

An uncomfortable knot formed in Emma's stomach, but she nodded bravely. "Enjoy your meal. And thanks for cooking!"

Henry smiled and wrapped his arms around Emma again.

"So that's how it is, and I have to beg for it?" Regina came through the door just then, but sounded more teasing than honestly angry at her words.

Emma shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe just because I'm not begging for it," she grinned at her girlfriend.

"I'm eating upstairs, Mom. I have some studying to do," Henry cut in before Regina could say anything in response, giving her another kiss on the cheek as she passed to soften her up a bit. "Enjoy."

"Thank you, you too!"

When her son had disappeared up the stairs, Emma nodded toward the table. "Sit down. I should be able to just about manage the handing out."

So Regina complied and dropped into her seat, where she immediately propped her head on her arms and buried her face in her hands.

"How was your day?"

"Don't ask!" her voice came muffled through her hands. "I couldn't save myself from complaining. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in the brains of those dwarves. Is there just stone dust in there? And that Grumpy is the worst of them all. But anyway, I really don't feel like talking about it right now. Tomorrow I can go into it in more detail." She rolled her eyes, then looked over at Emma. "What about yours?"

"Huh?"

"How was your day?"

"Oh, good. It was...good. I picked Henry up from school and enjoyed spending time with him. His friends now know that even moms can run fast." Regina laughed at that, and Emma's guts tightened at the sound as her palms began to sweat.

"As long as they don't expect me to do the same next week, that's fine with me. You're just the athletic one of the two of us, and that's never going to change." Regina winced as the spatula fell out of Emma's hand and landed clanging in the sink. "Emma? Are you all right?"

Emma knew if she had to hold it in one more minute she would burst, so she turned to Regina and leaned her buttocks against the kitchen cabinet. Slowly, she began to shake her head. "No. There's nothing right. Regina, I'm not cheating on you."

Regina raised an eyebrow and looked at her with an ironic grin. "Yeah, you're right, this is really bad."

"Now just let me finish!" Emma demanded, raising her hands to silence her. She took a deep breath and tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. How could it be that it had been easier with her own child? "When I didn't come home at night two weeks ago, I wasn't in the office. I was in the hospital. I have leukemia, Regina."

Not only had the announcement been harder for Emma to make than it had been with Henry, but Regina's reaction to it was worse, too. Her face, which had been grinning a moment ago, turned into a mask of pure horror and her eyes gleamed wetly.

"Let's talk about it, it sounds worse than it is for now," Emma tried.

But while Regina was still frozen looking into her eyes, purple mist surrounded her and she was gone.

"Yes, that's exactly how I imagined it," Emma sighed, staring at the pan of untouched food.