Chapter 59
It was a strange feeling to enter the house. So ordinary, so normal, and yet nothing at all was ordinary or normal. For the first time, Emma secretly wondered how many more times she would see her home, how many more times she would climb the steps to the porch and into the foyer.
"Henry, can you manage?" Regina asked over her shoulder as she held Emma upright, pulling her with her with great effort all the way into the foyer.
"Yes, Mom, of course," the teenager replied, overtaking them both as the hallway widened to allow Emma's wheelchair, which he had been carrying, to be unfolded.
Carefully, Regina let her girlfriend slide in and then helped her out of her jacket. Emma didn't look like she could manage a single more step, so Regina wanted to take as much off her shoulders as possible.
Without protesting, Emma just let her do it. Even if she had wanted to, she would not have been able to do much. And as things stood, she was too weakened to do much anyway, and her broken arm was restricting her even more. She wanted to be mentally occupied with other things, but her impending death was not something she could simply ignore.
Regina just nodded gratefully to Henry for a moment and then took the handles of the wheelchair. Slowly, she pushed Emma into the living room, where a fire was already burning in the fireplace. "Do you want to be on the sofa?"
At first Emma just stared into the flames, not responding at all, but eventually her eyes flickered up to her and she shook her head. "It's okay like this. Thanks."
"Alright," Regina nodded, placing a blanket on her legs before placing a pillow on her lap and resting her plastered arm on it.
"Can you give me a few minutes, please?" Green, dull eyes looked at Regina.
"Sure, I..." She swallowed and brushed her hair back from her forehead. Neither of them said it out loud, but that didn't change the fact that each of them was toying with the same dark thoughts. "If you need anything, then... well, I..."
"Regina?" Emma whispered, gently reaching for her hand. "It's okay. You can stay if you want." What did it matter now what she herself wanted? If she died, she would destroy everything around her like a bomb, and she didn't want to get her own way before that time came, but rather to fulfill the wishes of her loved ones.
"No, you said you needed a few minutes. That's fine, Emma," Regina began immediately, but Emma squeezed her hand.
"Nothing will change if I'm alone. You'd like to stay, so stay." She gave her a wry smile and held her hand until Regina finally took a seat on the sofa next to her wheelchair. Staring into space, Emma ran her hand over her eyes once briefly and then bit her lower lip. "Maybe coming home was a mistake."
Regina looked at her questioningly, but remained silent.
"The longer I'm here and can think about it, the less I want to go back," Emma whispered, shaking her head and closing her eyes.
"Anyone would feel that way," Regina stated quietly. "But still, you should enjoy the fact that you have a few more days of reprieve. I know 'enjoy' is probably the wrong word, considering the circumstances, but... you're in your home with your family... That's worth something, after all, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess it is," Emma just mumbled in response, staring at her broken arm. She blamed that damn fall for her dreadful state, even though she knew it was nonsense, of course. Her condition wouldn't be any different if she hadn't injured herself. The only difference would be that she could have lived a few days longer with the illusion that the treatment she'd received so far was successfully keeping her cancer at bay. "Heart came to see me again last evening," she finally began without looking at her girlfriend.
"What did she want?" the latter immediately inquired with interest.
"Talk to me about the stem cell donation. Because of the recurrence, I won't be able to avoid needing one," Emma relayed the conversation monotonously. "And before that, it would be important anyway that the metastases are gone or at least smaller. She said... she wants to start a typification campaign in Storybrooke. Find potential donors, you know? A lot of people would probably already be registered, but just not all of them."
"Well, that's good that she's going for it," Regina noted, looking at Emma, who didn't return her gaze.
Emma just nodded and then took a deep breath. "She said the most suitable donors are usually siblings." She finally looked up, her gaze inscrutable.
"That... oh." It took Regina a moment before it dawned on her what she was trying to say. "Is Neal allowed to donate yet?"
"He should be allowed to, yes. But there's no way I'm going to let that happen."
"Emma... I understand that it's not a very nice prospect, of course, but you shouldn't turn it down from the start. There's virtually no risk to him, and so..."
"Stop it!", Emma drove at her outright. "He's my brother, he's a little boy, and there's no way I'm going to let that happen!"
"He may be your only chance of survival," Regina said softly, swallowing hard. "Maybe he won't even be a donor, but maybe he will."
"We'll never find out. I won't allow him to be tested."
"Isn't that more David and Snow's decision?" Regina said cautiously, looking hesitantly into Emma's eyes.
"But it's my body. I'm not going to accept a donation from him."
"Can you tell me why not? Without getting angry right away? I'm just trying to understand. There's no danger to him whatsoever," Regina said.
Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "It's not just about any danger. He's two years old, Regina. He may not be at risk of dying, but they will put him through all the tests, stick him with needles. He's going to be in pain, and he doesn't understand all of this yet. I know you all see this as a small sacrifice, but for him it's torture that can't be explained to him with anything." She paused and looked up at her girlfriend before taking her hand. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry. I know you just want to try anything to help me, but this is my final word. Neal will not be touched."
Chewing on her bottom lip, Regina looked down at her and Emma's intertwined hands and finally nodded slowly. "Is that why you told me right away? So it wouldn't even come up again?"
"Among other things. But mostly I wanted to let you know about the conversation with my doctor," Emma said honestly. "I'm really sorry, Regina. But I couldn't live with myself if my little brother had to be in pain because of me."
"What about me? I want to help too," Henry explained at that moment. The teenager had finished his homework, which he had just been busy with when his mom had come home with Emma, and was now leaning in the doorway to the living room.
Emma turned to him and looked at him fondly. "I appreciate that, Henry. But according to Heart, your own children or parents are the least likely donors," she explained, nodding toward the sofa.
Following the prompting, Henry came over to his mothers and sat down next to Regina. "But unlikely doesn't mean impossible, right? I definitely want to be tested."
Emma was silent for a moment, feeling Regina's gaze on her before she nodded. "If you insist, okay. You're old enough to understand the consequences, so I won't forbid it. Provided your mom agrees."
Immediately Henry's gaze went to Regina, who nodded.
"Of course I agree." Gently, she ran her hand down Henry's back and then stood up. "I should probably make us something to eat. Unless you need anything first?!" she then turned to Emma again.
The latter shook her head. "I've got everything, thanks."
"Okay. Otherwise, you know where I am," she nodded and disappeared towards the kitchen.
"Don't you think Grandma and Grandpa will allow Neal to save your life?", Henry finally wanted to know hesitantly.
"It's not exactly the finest way to eavesdrop," Emma merely countered.
"I wasn't eavesdropping. You haven't exactly been quiet," he then pointed out, sliding over to the seat where Regina had been sitting until just a moment ago so that he could put his arm around Emma's shoulders. "They're not going to choose one child over another."
"That's not what this is about, Henry. In fact, I'm sure they'll allow it, but I don't want it, and this is about me, after all."
Henry gazed thoughtfully into the flames in the fireplace before pulling his mother into a gentle embrace. "I don't want you to die," it escaped him in a whisper.
By the way Henry sniffled, Emma knew immediately that he was trying to suppress more tears. Quite automatically, her good arm also wrapped around him and gently hugged him. "I'm trying."
"What happens now?", Henry wanted to know when they separated again and he had wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
Emma sighed and leaned back in her wheelchair. "I have two days off now, and then I have to go back to the clinic."
"Isn't chemo done on an outpatient basis anymore?" he immediately wanted to know.
"Yes, it is. But first they're going to run a lot of tests, take a closer look at my head, and so on. There are still some preparations to make before the radiation and as for the chemo, well... It's probably not going to be fun," she sighed again and pulled a tissue out of her pants pocket to blow her nose. "Aw, damn," she cursed when the supposed runny nose turned out to be blood.
"Do you want me to go get Mom?" Henry asked immediately, who had already gotten up.
Shaking her head, Emma pressed the tissue to her nose and looked up at him. "No need, it's not very bad," she returned, resting her chin on her chest.
"Is it a different chemo this time?", Henry thus wanted to know further and again took a seat on the edge of the sofa.
"A similar one, but some new drug is probably added. I think 'more aggressive' were the words Heart used to describe it," Emma said rolling her eyes, who couldn't wait to find out what side effects she would have to deal with afterwards.
Henry just nodded briefly and then handed his mother a fresh tissue. "You're really pale," he noted with concern. "At least let me get you a wet towel." Before Emma could protest, he had already run out of the room.
Groaning, Emma then heard Regina and Henry talking, but couldn't make out any exact words. However, since two pairs of shoes came back in her direction afterwards, it was clear to her that Henry had let Regina in on it.
"Why don't you call me?", Regina immediately wanted to know reproachfully, while she hurried towards Emma and placed the wet towel, which she had taken from Henry's hands, on her neck.
"Because it's no big deal," Emma replied, somewhat tensely, meeting her gaze. "I can definitely tell by now whether it's serious or not."
Somewhat doubtfully Regina eyed her, but had to admit that the bleeding was really not very severe. "Yes... I'm sorry," she nodded, biting her lower lip for a moment.
"Regina, you don't have to keep apologizing. I know the latest news wasn't the best, but I'm still not made out of sugar," she indicated, looking back and forth between her two loved ones. "Does my dad actually know by now?"
Shaking her head, Regina looked away from her. "If Snow hasn't told him, he doesn't."
Emma swallowed, then checked to see if the bleeding had stopped by now. Since her tissue was mostly clean, she assumed it had and lowered it. "You think I should have told him, don't you?" she wanted to know quietly without looking at either of them.
"You should tell him as soon as you're ready. And regardless of my birthday party, it doesn't matter at all," Regina countered, gently putting a hand on Emma's shoulder. It was clear to her that Emma's primary concern was not her birthday, which was long over anyway; it was just a perfect excuse to postpone the unpleasant conversation for a while. She would never hold this against Emma, however, as she could absolutely understand how hard it was for her.
"I know," Emma almost whispered, pulling the cold towel from her neck and then passing it to Regina. "Thanks, I feel better."
"You should lie down for a bit," Regina decided, and not just because her face seemed to be getting paler by the minute. Emma's shoulders were slowly sinking lower, too, and from the way she uncomfortably kept trying to slide back and forth a little in her chair, Regina could tell that her pain was increasing again.
"I probably should," Emma returned monotonously, staring at the sofa next to her, which she could touch with her hand if she stretched out her arm, yet which seemed infinitely far away.
Henry immediately stood up to make room on the one hand and to help his mother on the other.
Emma looked up at him briefly as he stepped to her, but held back any protest and instead weakly put her arm around his shoulders to let him transfer her to the couch. By now she needed so much help that she couldn't refuse Henry's offers if she wanted to avoid Regina ruining her back completely.
When Emma was finally lying down, Regina spread the blanket that had been on her legs earlier over her.
"Thank you," Emma whispered, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Even taking a breath felt like an immense challenge by now and she really wanted nothing but to sleep, but Regina was right. David needed to be filled in. "Can you maybe call my dad and make him come a little earlier if he can get off work?" she finally plucked up her courage and looked at her girlfriend.
"Of course... Are you uncomfortable?" the latter immediately wanted to know with concern.
"No, it's not that." She didn't want to admit that she would have preferred to lie a little steeper and it was just quieter in the bedroom, since this admission meant that she was getting worse. But the main reason this time was really different. "I want to talk to him. You're right, we can't leave him out and be the only one in the dark." Even Zelena had already been informed by Regina, knowing that sooner or later she would ask questions as Emma deteriorated more and more.
"Okay... Then I'll tell him that you want to go to bed earlier tonight because the day was exhausting," Regina nodded.
"No," Emma interrupted her shaking her head. "Just tell him to come as soon as he has time."
"Whatever you say." With that, Regina walked back into the kitchen with her back straight.
Emma watched her go and frowned worriedly. She had a bad feeling she couldn't put her finger on. "Can you please go with her, Henry?" she then asked her son, placing a hand on his forearm. "I just want to make sure she's okay."
Hesitantly, Henry glanced toward the doorway before nodding and standing up. "All right," he relented, taking a deep breath. If Emma was worried about his mom, it usually was justified. He didn't know how the two of them did it, but magically they always seemed to sense exactly when something was wrong with the other. Henry had never doubted their love for each other, but since Emma had been so ill, he could see it more clearly than ever before.
Regina was standing by the window, her back toward the door and her hands clasped to the sill when Henry entered the kitchen.
"Mom, are you okay?" he asked hesitantly, slowly moving closer.
Regina quickly wiped away the tear rolling down her cheek and straightened her shoulders. "Of course, Henry," she replied in a brittle voice, turning to him with a fake smile. "Are you hungry?"
"Mom... you aren't okay at all," Henry stated quietly, taking her trembling hands in his without breaking eye contact. "She'll be fine, you'll see."
It took all Regina's effort to hold back her tears. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and bit her lip. "That's what we wish for. But there aren't always happy endings, Henry."
"Maybe I'll be a good match as a donor, even though she says it's very unlikely. Then she'll recover and beat the cancer."
"Henry... It's not just a problem of finding a suitable donor," Regina stated slowly, before she looked at him again. They had promised him they would be honest, no matter how hard the truth was. "Dr. Heart said she also has to be in condition to even survive a transplant like this. It's not just an IV she gets and then everything will be fine. Before that happens, she gets high-dose radiation, which destroys all of her bone marrow, including her immune system. And after that, her body has to accept the donation. If she's too sick, her body won't be able to do either."
Henry stared at her and squeezed her hands. "Then it's even more urgent that I get tested. After all, the longer we wait, the worse she'll get!"
"I understand how you feel. But there's time and place. Heart knows what she's doing, I trust her, and so does Emma."
"Then why are you so worried?", Henry then wanted to know, his gaze fixed on her dark eyes.
Regina smiled sadly and shrugged vaguely with one shoulder. "I love Emma. Seeing her like this feels like someone ripped my heart out and is now squeezing it with pleasure, just enough to hurt me and take my breath away, but not hard enough to kill me."
Taking a deep breath, Henry put his arms around Regina and held his mother in a tight embrace. He had never been in love before, but after that statement he realized that there had to be nothing better and at the same time more painful than true love. "I'm sorry you have to feel this way," he whispered honestly.
Regina's lips twisted into a gentle smile as her cheek rested against her son's and she stroked the back of his head. "And yet it's also a gift to be able to feel that," she nodded.
Their embrace was interrupted by the piercing ring of the front doorbell.
"That must be David. He was really quick," Regina noted, taking a deep breath and running her hands over her top to smooth it out as she walked to the door and opened it. "Hello, David," she greeted Emma's father, stepping aside to let him pass. "Glad you could make it."
"Hello, Regina. Well, there aren't really many wild manhunts in Storybrooke that would require my presence. And everything else can wait, my daughter comes first," he answered her lightly, brushing off his shoes and jacket. Hesitantly, he eyed Regina's pale face and the way she held her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. "You look very worried... She's all right, isn't she?"
"She's shattered and wants to go to bed," she returned curtly, heading back toward the kitchen. "If you could just take her upstairs, that would be great. If she wants to freshen up later, we can handle that on our own," she explained, returning to Henry. She realized she was acting like she was running from him, but Emma needed time with him, and besides, she really should probably start cooking something now.
Regina's strange behavior didn't reassure David one bit, so he walked slowly to the living room with his brows drawn together and took a cautious look inside.
"Hey, Dad," Emma greeted her father instantly, turning her head in his direction with a wry grin on her face.
"Emma," he smiled at last, approaching with now brisk steps and pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "It's good to have you home, honey."
"Yes," Emma replied curtly, swallowing. "I'm sorry we bothered you at work."
"Don't be sorry, I've told you that many times," David assured her, looking to her wheelchair. "Well then... shall we get started?"
The familiar knot formed in Emma's stomach, as it always did when she needed help from others to get around. Today, however, it was compounded by the fact that she was trying to think of the right words to say, so her self-loathing took a back seat for the first time. "Yes, of course," she finally said quietly. As her father leaned toward her, she put her good arm around his neck and bit her lip as he lifted her. Fortunately, the brief acute pain subsided immediately after and she continued to sort back and forth in her mind the words she wanted to use. Nothing seemed to fit and the fear that she was just going to let him leave without having accomplished anything crept into her mind.
David had become so familiar with carrying Emma to her bedroom that he had downright missed it during the time she had been at the clinic again. Gently, he set her down on the edge of her bed, then folded back the sheets before carefully laying her down. After he had also tucked her in and briefly lifted her torso again to fluff the pillow underneath, he looked at her questioningly. "Is it all right like that? Would you like me to flatten the headboard a bit more?"
"It's fine, thank you," she whispered, then shook her head. "It's easier for me to breath when it's higher," she then explained gently, hesitantly reaching for his hand. "Do you have a moment?" She found it hard to look him in the eye; apparently her mother had actually kept her mouth shut for once. He seemed so clueless as he stood by her bedside and smiled at her, the little wrinkles showing around his kind eyes.
"Of course, for you always," he replied.
Emma took a deep breath and waited for him to sit down before taking his hand again and staring ahead. "Dad, I... have to tell you something," she began, and would have liked to slap herself right now. That sentence alone set everyone's alarm bells ringing.
"But hopefully not again, that you're sorry I have to come and help you every day. Emma, there's nothing wrong with that. On the contrary, I'm glad if I can help in any way!"
"That's not the point," she interrupted him, sighing, "Dad, I'm probably dying." The lump in her throat made it difficult for her to speak, and she swallowed hard as she looked at him. Even though she'd had the thought all along, it was the first time she'd said it out loud and it startled her how real it suddenly felt. As she studied David's frozen face, she immediately realized that she couldn't just let that statement stand. "I'm having a recurrence and it's not looking good overall. It's not set in stone, but... I'm trying to come to terms with the very likely possibility that I don't have much time left. I should have told you right away, but... I was afraid of your reaction."
A very long pause followed, during which nothing but Emma's labored breathing could be heard, before David finally awoke from his stupor. "You're going to die?" he repeated, completely perplexed.
"Maybe. Probably," Emma nodded, squeezing his strong hand, which in her delicate fingers seemed as if a child were holding it. "I mean, we knew all along that this was going to be a possibility," she tried to rationalize, but immediately broke off, realizing herself that this would comfort no one.
"Snow... your mother... does she know yet?" he finally wanted to know in a raspy voice, without looking at her.
Emma nodded. "Regina told her after we found out about it. We didn't want to shut you out, we really didn't. I just wanted to wait for the right moment, but, well... when is that?"
"What happens now?" he continued to ask thus, as if checking off a mental list of questions.
"I have to go back to the hospital the day after tomorrow, and I'll have more treatments then," she replied, "and my doctor is looking for a suitable stem cell donor for me."
"Can't we donate?" His eyes lit up as he thought he had found the perfect solution.
It hurt Emma's soul to have to smash those hopes right away. "You're welcome to get tested, of course, but I'm afraid it's very unlikely you'll be a donor." Emma sought his gaze and when he finally looked at her, she smiled slightly. "It's okay, Dad. It's going to work out somehow. Look at it this way: I would have continued treatment anyway and might have needed a donation sooner or later anyway. It doesn't matter that the prognosis is different now. Other than that, nothing will change."
"Is that really how you see it?" he asked incredulously, his eyes filled with tears.
"No," Emma admitted, grinning wryly. "But I have to tell myself that I do, because otherwise I don't know how to go on."
David swallowed and finally smiled wryly as well before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Emma's forehead. "We love you, Emma. And no matter what happens, we'll get through this. Together."