Chapter 58

"Hello, Loraine," Emma greeted her friend as she answered her call. "How are you?" Emma had returned her food untouched, but Maureen had not given her more than a concerned look, as promised.

"Emma. It's good to hear from you. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I feel better than I have in ages. Without the chemo, getting up every day is worth it again."

Emma smiled slightly to herself at these words. She was aware of the price this improvement came with, but she was glad that Loraine had come to terms with it and was enjoying her life while she could. "I'm glad to hear that."

"What about you? Are you enjoying the period of recovery?" the older woman then inquired of her.

Clearly audible, Emma sighed and looked toward the window.

"Emma? What happened?"

"I'm in the hospital," she answered, closing her eyes. "I fell yesterday and broke my arm. It's nothing." Even to her own ears, her monotone voice sounded more forced than sincere.

"Really?"

"Really, what?"

"Is it really nothing?" Loraine knew this situation all too well; it was never nothing when you put extra emphasis on it.

Since Emma had guessed ahead of time that she couldn't fool her, she wasn't surprised by the question. "I get to go home tomorrow."

There was a long silence on the line before Loraine asked quietly, "And that's it?"

"It's not, actually," Emma admitted, opening her eyes. She had to go easy on her family, but with Loraine, she knew she could tell her because they were in the same boat. "I have metastases and an increased number of leukemia cells in my blood."

"Oh, Emma." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Well, whatever. It's not like it comes completely without prior warning. I've always attracted misfortune. Why should this time be any different?"

"Do you want me to come to you?" she asked gently.

For a brief moment, Emma considered saying yes. It sure would be nice to have someone with her with whom she could be relentlessly honest. But then she shook her head. Loraine shouldn't be bothered to go through the cold because of her, when she was just starting to feel a little better. "There's really no need, but thank you." She remembered that she had actually wanted to invite her to Regina's birthday party, but now everything had changed. As much as she wished her girlfriend would celebrate without her, she couldn't imagine that she really would. Sighing, Emma ran the back of her hand over her face and then put her cell phone back to her ear. "Maybe we could meet before I have to go back to the hospital. I could call you."

"That sounds good," Loraine agreed before continuing more quietly. "I wish we had met under different circumstances."

Emma smiled a little and closed her eyes. "Yes, that would have been nice. But life isn't a picnic, after all." With a pained expression on her face, she moved to a slightly different position in her bed as she could barely stand her back pain.

"Emma?" Loraine said quietly, who had heard her suppressed groan.

"Huh?"

"Don't give up. You have to get better, promise me."

Confused, Emma furrowed her brow. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You find a way. You're the Savior, it just can't be everything," she countered. "The Savior who falls victim to a stupid cancer? What kind of dumb fairy tale is that?"

Emma had to laugh, but Loraine's words sounded absolutely serious. "I'll try my best, I can promise you that."

"That's good enough for me for now. We'll hear from each other, Emma."

"Yeah, see you." She pressed the button with the red telephone receiver and then, exhausted, let the hand holding the smartphone fall back onto the bedspread. Everything was just exhausting now, even lifting her arm while holding the phone to her ear. Involuntarily, she wondered if she should just stay right here. At home, she would probably just spend the entire time in her bed, while Regina came every half hour to check if she was still breathing. Sighing, Emma bit her lip and closed her eyes. She tried to turn away from such thoughts, but in her current state it was simply impossible to avoid thinking about death.

When her smartphone rang, she flinched startled, and glanced at the screen. She had expected Loraine to call her back because she had forgotten something, but to her surprise it was Henry calling her. "Henry," she whispered in a soft voice after picking up. When there was silence on the other end of the line, Emma frowned. "Henry, is everything all right?"

Again, it took a while before Henry said something back. "You tell me." His voice was low and broken, and there was a hint of reproach in it.

"I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Mom and Grandma are acting like you just died. It doesn't exactly fit with the happy story of you coming home tomorrow and celebrating with us," he countered. "Ma? Just tell me the truth, okay?"

A lump formed in Emma's throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. "Henry... I don't know what they told you."

"Nothing did they tell me. Your fall was no big deal, you'll be released tomorrow. That's what they said. You promised to be honest with me, whether you had good news or bad news," he reminded her, sobs mingling with his hurt tone.

"I..." Emma felt her pulse quicken, making her feel like her heart was going to jump out of her chest at any moment. "We shouldn't talk about this on the phone." She didn't want to sidestep his question, because he was right. He deserved the truth. He wasn't a little boy anymore, and he sensed that absolutely nothing was in order. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him while she was unable to hold him in her arms.

Henry's silence stretched and when Emma thought the connection was lost, he whispered, "So it's really bad then."

As tears ran from her eyes and down her cheeks, she closed them and shook her head. "I don't know how it's going to turn out. But I know I love you incredibly, kid."

"Can I come to you?"

The idea of him having to see her like this only made the lump in her throat grow more and triggered an uncomfortable feeling of pressure in her stomach, but she owed him an answer and he would get it. "All right. But don't take the bike, the roads are icy."

"See you in a minute."

Emma didn't even get a chance to say anything else as he immediately ended the conversation.

"Where are you going?" Regina's arms were wrapped tightly around her middle as she followed Henry into the hallway, where he was putting on his winter clothes.

"I'm going to Emma," he declared, as if it were the most obvious thing to say.

Regina froze, barely perceptibly. "She's certainly asleep. You'll see her tomorrow anyway," she tried to dissuade him in a gentle voice, but in doing so only earned an angry look from her son.

"We spoke on the phone and I'm going to see her now. You can't stop me."

Regina opened her mouth and closed it again as Henry left the apartment. She should have known she couldn't fool him and now just hoped Emma wouldn't feel betrayed by breaking her promise. However, she had told her right away that it wouldn't work.

"Aren't you going to get him back?" Snow suddenly asked from behind her, who had quietly stepped into the hallway as well.

Without turning around, Regina shook her head. "That wouldn't make any sense. With those two, it's better to just let them do their thing." Noticing that her hands were shaking slightly, she gripped her upper body a little tighter.

Snow had noticed, however, and hesitantly placed a gentle hand on her stepmother's upper arm. "Everyone's just thinking about Emma and Henry... But you need some rest, too."

"I'm fine," Regina snapped, pulling away firmly. Snow was right, she did need rest and she was all agitated inside, which probably would have been the case for anyone that day. She knew, however, that this was reinforced by the fact that she had thrown up that morning and her pills probably hadn't had their full effect. Taking a deep breath, she called herself to order and looked apologetically over at Snow, who had taken a step backwards after her hostile reaction. "I'm sorry," she whispered, running a hand over her face.

"You're tense and no one could blame you. Why don't you go upstairs and lie down for a bit? That night in the hospital on one of those hideous chairs can't have been restful."

"I can't sleep," Regina muttered, even though the offer was all too tempting.

"Then you just rest."

"Tomorrow Emma will be home, there are so many things to prepare," she objected.

Shaking her head, Snow gently but firmly pushed her toward the stairs. "First of all, we'll all help you if we need to, and secondly, I don't know anything about Emma caring about everything being spotless. She'll survive if every minute of the day isn't perfectly planned out."

Slowly but surely, Regina ran out of counterarguments, which made her snort in frustration. "When Henry gets back, you have to come get me right away!"

"Of course. Now, upstairs with you. Just take a few minutes to yourself doing nothing," Snow demanded.

Defeated, Regina climbed the stairs and lay down on the bed in Henry's old room, which had since been converted into a guest room. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead on the large window as she lay on her side, pulling her knees close to her body. She felt all the worse thinking about what Emma and Henry might be talking about at this very moment while she lay around killing time.

Her negative thoughts became more and more condensed and soon she felt like she was going to suffocate. "I'm fine," she whispered to herself over and over again, rising jerkily and wrenching both casements open to take a few deep breaths of the freezing air. She hadn't had a panic attack in a while and had almost missed the first signs. She didn't even like to imagine how it would have turned out without Emma, who had been the one person in the past who had been able to calm her down when her psyche had thrown a wrench in the works. Glad that her rapid breathing had calmed down over the course of time, Regina put a hand on her chest and counted to 100 in her mind with her eyes closed. When she finished, her heart was beating slowly and steadily again.

Shivering from the cold, she closed the window again and lay down once more on the bedspread. She had thought that now more than ever she would not be able to sleep, but the attacks, even if not full-blown, always drained her so much that she fell asleep within minutes.

Henry's knocking differed from that of the nurses. It was not hurried, as work pressed, but slow and uncertain.

"Come in," Emma called out as loudly as she could, though she was exhausted and her voice shaky. She had spent the past few minutes trying to think of the right words to best describe the situation, but she had not succeeded. There was nothing she could have said to prepare her son in the right way for the fact that she was probably going to die.

Henry's face was tense and his steps hesitant as he entered the hospital room, closing the door behind him and dropping his backpack to the floor beside it.

Emma could barely handle the pained expression on his face as he first gave her broken arm and then her emaciated face a look. "Hi, kid," she whispered, trying for a wry smile. "Come here," she begged, extending her good arm toward him.

Hesitantly, Henry slipped off his coat and scarf, disinfected his hands at the dispenser near the door, then pulled a chair close to Emma's bed. It took him a while before he carefully took her hand. "Just tell me the truth. Please." Only now did he seek eye contact, and though he was clearly doing his best to keep his composure, the trembling of his lower lip betrayed how agitated he really was.

"My disease has gotten worse, Henry," Emma simply began directly after taking a few deep breaths.

"Because you had to stop the last chemo?" he immediately wanted to know.

Shaking her head, Emma stroked her son's hand. "No. Heart says it's not because of that, it would have happened anyway. There are cancer cells in my bone marrow again and... on my meninges, too."

With his eyebrows drawn tightly together, Henry looked at her and swallowed past the lump in his throat. "What does that mean?"

"That I'll have to continue chemo and probably need radiotherapy," she replied, sighing. "And then we'll have to hope that a stem cell donor can be found for me."

"That doesn't sound good, but it's nowhere near as bad as Mom and Grandma acted," Henry noted. "What are you not telling me?"

Emma moved a little to the side to ease the strain on her back and find a more comfortable position for her arm before making eye contact with Henry again. "The fact that the leukemia has worsened now despite treatment is not good, Henry. It's called a recurrence, it's a relapse. And, well... the chances of me getting through this are... well..." Shaking her head, she closed her eyes briefly and bit her lip. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she was pretty much going to die, but saying it out loud to Henry was another matter entirely. Bracing herself against the inevitable, she let out the breath she had been holding and looked her son in the eye again. "It's very unlikely I'll survive this, Henry." Her chest tightened and the lump in her throat grew larger, but she held back her tears. She had to be strong for Henry now.

All color drained from the teen's face before he slowly shook his head in disbelief. "But... I don't believe that. You're Emma, you're my ma, you're the Savior... You can't just die like that," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "Unlikely doesn't mean impossible. I'm sure you'll beat this disease anyway!"

Emma couldn't help but smile. Of course, even now her wonderful son had to encourage her and believe that good would triumph. Weakly, she raised her arm and gently put her hand to his cheek. "Thank you for believing in me so much," she whispered. At that moment, it seemed to her that he was back to being the ten-year-old boy who stood at her door and firmly believed in fairy tales, even though everyone tried to talk him out of it.

"You have to believe in yourself, too. It's like when you found out about the curse," Henry eagerly said, as if he had read her mind.

"Even if I believe in myself, I can't wish myself healthy," she quietly reasoned, lowering her arm back onto the bedspread when it became too much of an effort for her to hold it up. She was silent for a while in which she tried to collect herself and regain some strength. "I wish I could save you from this... I don't want you to see me slowly dying."

"You won't! Ma, you're not dying, okay?" Henry insisted, reaching for her hand again, his eyes full of tears. "I need you. And mom needs you. It can't end like this, it just can't!"

Emma swallowed hard and blinked her tears aside. "Come here, Henry," she begged, reaching out for him again. This time, however, she put her arm around his neck and pulled him close. "I love you, never forget that." She knew he was hoping for a declaration of war, for her reassurance that everything would be okay, but she couldn't give him either. It was hard enough to keep her composure as it was; it was even harder when Henry was hoping for her fighting spirit, but she simply had no strength left. "Does Regina know you're here?"

Slowly, Henry nodded, unwilling to let go of her yet again, but his reason finally won out and he released her from the embrace again. Wiping tears from his face with his sleeve, he then eyed his mother briefly. "You need to rest."

"I know. But there'll be plenty of time for that when you get home," Emma replied gently, gazing lovingly at her son from tired eyes.

"I'd like to stay a little longer, if you don't mind," Henry said hesitantly. As long as he was with her, he felt that nothing bad could happen and he didn't want to leave her here alone again, even though she had apparently expressed that desire to Regina.

"I don't mind," she replied immediately, stroking his fingers. "However, I hope your mom doesn't go crazy with both of us. Is anyone with her, Henry?" It didn't matter how bad she was feeling. To her, Henry and Regina always came first.

"Grandma and Grandpa are with her," Henry returned, running his hand tentatively over the back of his neck. "Grandma was pretty upset."

"Then Regina probably told her," Emma nodded. She couldn't blame her girlfriend; after all, it had been a lot to ask to keep this news to herself while still pretending that everything was fine. "Henry, I'm sorry, but I'm really tired," she finally whispered with a sigh.

"It's okay. Just sleep, Ma."

Emma gave her son another smile before exhaustion forced her to close her eyes. Her back and pelvis ached and her head continued to throb uncomfortably, but it felt good to have Henry with her and his warm hand gripping hers tightly made her feel safe and secure. Maybe he was right after all. Maybe all it took was a little trust and she would be able to get better. As she fell asleep with that thought and her head rolled slightly to the side, her worried features relaxed for the first time in hours.

Henry sat quietly and continued to hold Emma's hand long after his mother had fallen asleep. At first, he had thought there must be some mistake. Someone must have mixed up the examination results. It was impossible that his mother would die from something as trivial as this disease. He had feared for her life several times before, but so far it had always been about the fight against evil. Now her own body had declared war on her, evil was inside her and attacking her. Suddenly he wasn't so sure that being the Savior would help her in this case. Hastily, he wiped his eyes again as new tears began to make their way out. He had to stop thinking so negatively, because he knew that all would be lost if they gave up hope.