CHAPTER ELEVEN

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Emma sat darkly brooding in the chair at Regina's bedside. The rest of her family were dotted about the room, but no one spoke. They were all demoralised by the sterile hospital room and the unmoving form of the Evil Queen lying in silent repose in the infirmary bed. Henry sat with his chair pulled up close on Regina's other side, holding her hand gently between his own as tears streamed silently down his anguished face. 

A week had passed since Snow and Charming had hauled Emma and the Evil Queen ashore and into the car, racing with all haste to the hospital. They'd done all they could, but there had been no change in Regina's predicament. Her breathing had stayed deep and even over the following days, but she showed no outward signs of cognisance. Gold came daily to add to her treatment with various potions and spells, but so far, he had had little success apart from keeping her alive. He was due any minute this morning, and the Charming family waited for his arrival in depressed silence, hardly daring to hope anymore.

There was a commotion outside the hospital room as a nurse retreated out of the way, and Emma glanced up sharply as Gold strode through the doorway. He carried with him the long rod that she now recognised as the Staff of Souls. It was carved from light magic, created specifically for duelling with creatures of the Netherworld. He met Emma's eyes with a profound gaze.

  "I found her," he stated, foregoing any attempt at pleasantries. His voice was soft and savage. Emma sprang to her feet.

  "Where is she?" she demanded.

  "Somewhere she cannot escape," Gold assured her tersely. "But the witch can wait." He held up a minuscule glass bottle filled with dark, churning liquid. "I have it."

The others watched him tensely as he pulled the cork stopper out of the tiny bottle. He swirled the viscous liquid around slowly, airing it, and then held the tip of the staff directly underneath it. The rod glowed faintly, and the dark potion in the bottle swirled to quicksilver. After a few seconds, it turned more white than silver, as though someone had bottled moonlight. 

Gold stepped quickly to Regina's side, holding the bottle gingerly with the tips of his fingers as if it might explode. Henry helped him cradle Regina's head, and he tipped the vessel to her lips, letting its contents trickle slowly into her mouth.

  "What is it?" Emma asked uneasily, watching as the Queen swallowed automatically when the liquid hit the back of her throat. Gold laid her head gently back down against the pillows.

  "Exactly what it looks like," he replied evenly. "The cure."

He stepped to the end of the bed, watching Regina intently for any sign that the potion was working. Relief infinitesimally crinkled the corners of his eyes as she moaned softly and stirred, and Emma leapt to her side. Henry gently took hold of Regina's hand again from his spot on the other side of her bed, and David slid his arm around Mary-Margaret's waist, holding her tightly as they waited with bated breath. Unendurable seconds dragged past, and at last, Regina's eyes fluttered open. She looked blearily about her, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

  "Mom!" Henry whispered softly, his cheeks glistening with fresh tears of relief.

She turned towards the sound of his voice, and an uneven smile worked its way slowly onto her lips.

  "Henry," she croaked, her voice thick with disuse.

Henry jumped up and enveloped her in a hug as carefully as he could, and Regina began to cry softly in reprieve.

Feeling her trembling at the effort of holding on to him, Henry eased her back down. Emma reached for Regina's other hand, squeezing it softly with quiet elation, and Regina turned her head to face her, her eyes a whorl of emotion.

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