"Bless you," Emma said, furrowing her brow as her son sneezed for the 8th time since she had woken him up just minutes earlier.

"Mom, this is ridiculous," Henry complained, sneezing again and blowing his nose into a tissue, "I'm just a little sick. There's no reason to overreact." He fidgeted, trying to get comfortable while cocooned in Emma's bed and wrapped in about 5 layers of warm blankets she had placed around him.

Emma had let him sleep in her room after he had passed out at about 9 o'clock the previous night. They had been sharing their nightly cup of hot cocoa, complete with cinnamon, and curled up with a movie. They had made a habit of it since she had come home from the hospital, and she stayed away from anything that would upset her head earlier in the day so she could spend this quality time with her son. He had been a little off all day, not even wanting to hang out with Violet after school; but Emma had known something was seriously wrong when he fell asleep less than halfway through a movie. Henry always waited to hear the end of a story.

She had tucked him in, felt his forehead to check if he had a fever, and feeling no heat from it, had shrugged it off as fatigue and crawled into bed next to him. It wasn't until she had woken up to him sweating and shivering under the covers next to her that morning that she had taken immediate action, and may have possibly slightly overdone it.

No one could blame her though, she'd never taken care of anyone else while they were sick before. She'd never had anyone to take care of.

Emma pulled out a thermometer from her pocket and popped off the cap.

"I am not overreacting, I am simply a worried mother," she said softly, "Now stop being so much like me and open your mouth." Holding the thermometer to Henry's mouth, a small smile spread over her face; Henry was just as stubborn as she was.

He frowned in response, but did not argue the fact further. He snatched the thermometer from Emma's hand and placed it in his mouth.

"I can take my temperature myself," He mumbled with the thermometer protruding from his mouth.

"Don't talk Henry," Emma nagged, trying her hardest to sound strict, but only managing to receive an eye roll from her son.

The thermometer beeped and before Henry could grab it first, she went for it.

"Uh-huh, just as I suspected," she said, tapping her thermometer in her hand as she read the numbers, "you're sick."

"I told you I would get sick either way," Henry groaned, sitting up on Emma's bed and sniffing loudly. Emma raised her eyebrows, giving him a look of warning. It was true he had spent just about the same amount of time with Regina as he had with her this week, but that did not make her feel any less bad that her son was sick.

Henry moved the hair out of his eyes and stared back at his mother, she was still paler than she should have been. While she had mostly gotten over her flu, her cough and breathing problems persisted and she had been unable to do much of anything without getting a headache from the concussion. This meant she'd been stuck in the house, unable to work, or do much of anything. Henry had been over almost every day to play board games, talk, and of course, drink hot chocolate, but he knew his mother was beginning to go stir crazy.

"It's fine," Henry sighed, swinging his legs over the bed frame and pushing the insurmountable number of blankets off of him, "it's just the flu." Emma put her hand out to stop him.

"Not so fast kid," She said, pushing him back against the bed and placing his feet back on the mattress, "you need to stay in bed." Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She gave Henry a 'this conversation isn't over look' and reached into her pocket for her phone. It was her dad.

Heading home from Grannies, do we need anything? the message read.

Just some more DayQuil and NyQuil, Henry finally caught the plague. She typed back, hitting send and putting the phone back in her pocket. Her son looked at her with an expression of annoyance.

"Why do I have to stay in bed? I don't even feel that sick," he argued softly.

"Because I said so, I want you to beat this as quickly as you can." She snapped, a sudden sneeze rippling through her own body.

"But you're still sick too," Henry protested, looking at her and watching her chest rise and fall abnormally, "why aren't you in bed?" he retorted, crossing his arms and giving her a typical teenage boy look.

"Because I've been on antibiotics for 10 days, and I don't have a fever."

"Fine, can I at least go downstairs where I can watch some TV?" he asked, exasperated.

"Fine," Emma gave in, "let's go." She motioned to the door. Henry tried to get to his feet, only to lose his balance and almost fall to the ground.

"Easy there kid," Emma said, catching him before he hit the ground, "let's just take it slow okay?" She helped her son back to his feet, and they carefully made their way to the door.

"This sucks." he said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

"Trust me kid, I know."

She steadied him as they went down the stairs, she could see the kitchen was bright with sunlight from the warm Tuesday, but strangely absent from the normal delicious smells of her mother's cooking.

"Alright," Emma grunted, practically carrying her son down the last few steps and the rest of the way to the couch. "There," She sighed, helping him lie down and tucking him in with the same blanket he had put around her just over a week ago.

"Thanks," he sniffed, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV as Emma began to cough and wheeze from the strain of carrying Henry only a short distance.

"No problem kid, what do you want for breakfast?" She wheezed, regaining her breath a lot quicker than she had been able to a few days ago. Everyone knew Emma was not the best cook, but she'd be damned if she couldn't even manage to make her sick son some breakfast.

"Pancakes?" he asked, flipping through the guide for some morning cartoons.

"You have an appetite," Emma said, nodding approvingly, "that's a good sign."

"I'm guessing it's not a good enough one to let me go see Violet?" Henry asked hopefully.

"Nice try kid, now text Regina and let her know that you're staying here today."

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling out his iPhone. Emma made her way to the kitchen when she heard shuffling from behind her.

"Emma? Emm-ah-choo!" She heard her mother's voice coming from her parents' bedroom.

"Mom?" Emma asked, seeing Mary Margaret stumbling towards her in a bathrobe and pajamas, "not you too?"

"Oh yeah," Mary Margaret said, her voice congested.

"Sorry," Emma apologized, helping her mother to the couch and sitting her down next to Henry, "seems like I'm getting everyone sick today."

Her mom looked over at Henry as he coughed hard into the air.

"Henry, cover your mouth." Mary Margaret said, still adamant to correct him, even in her sickly state.

"Mom, are you hungry?" Emma asked, tossing her another blanket from the basket.

"Not really, but I could possibly get down some toast?" She replied, placing the blanket over her lap.

"Okay, toast and pancakes coming right up," Emma said walking back towards the kitchen, "oh and mom, there's a clean thermometer in the other bathroom if you haven't taken it already."

"101.3 Emma, I got it," Mary Margaret said, smiling at her daughter's sly attempt to make sure she was taken care of too, "Has Henry taken any medicine yet? There's still some advil in the cabinet."

"I was waiting for dad to get home with some DayQuil, can he have both?" Emma asked, not familiar with medication protocols; she usually just overdid one instead of mixing them together.

"Should be able to, yeah, just give him one tablet for now."

Emma filled a cup with water and grabbed the Advil from the upper cabinet.

"Mom? Can I have juice instead of water?" Henry called over the sound of the TV.

"Sure Henry," Emma said, wiping sweat from her brow and setting down the bottle of meds. It was a lot of work taking care of people.

After pouring Henry a cup of juice she took a pill from the bottle and walked over to the couch.

"Drink it all." she told him, handing the juice and pill to her son. He nodded, more interested in what Spider Man was doing to whatever villain he was fighting in this episode than his mother's instructions. "I mean it Henry, you need to stay hyd-" Her sentence was cut off by a familiar sensation of breath catching in her throat, and she began to cough, grabbing the couch as she attempted to control the spasms in her throat.

This immediately turned Henry's attention from the TV to his mother.

"Mom?"

"I'm f-uh-fine, Henry," Emma gasped, trying to regain her breath and seeing both him and her mother's worried expressions. She'd still been struggling to do much without running out of breath.

"Emma, have you taken your meds today?" Her mother questioned.

"No, not yet," she wheezed out, "was takin' care of Henry."

"Okay," her mother said, throwing the blanket off of her and getting up from the couch.

"Mom, sit down," She said as her mother wobbled towards the bathroom.

"No Emma, you sit down," Mary Margaret instructed, "I may have a fever but at least I can still breathe."

Emma sighed, she didn't sit down, but she didn't try to follow or make any further attempt to stop her mother on her quest to the medicine cabinet either.

"Mom it's okay, I can go back to Regina's for the day, I don't want to hurt you by taking care of me," Henry said softly, taking Emma's hand.

"Henry it's fine, I haven't stopped coughing since I got sick. The bronchitis is just kicking my ass that's all." She soothed, ruffling his hair.

"That is because you refuse to rest. Now sit down Emma before you fall down," her mother insisted, walking back over from the bathroom with her daughters prescription bottle in hand.

"Fine," Emma whined, making her way around the couch and sitting down with a dramatic thud, "but who's gonna make breakfast?"

"Your father will be back soon, we can wait 15 minutes," her mom said as she sat down next to Emma, handing her the bottle.

Emma took it from her mother, popping two pills in her mouth and swallowing.

"Well looks like we're all out of commision," Emma teased, only half kidding, and putting her feet up on the coffee table. She wasn't fully out of commision these past few days, but if she pushed it too much then she knew she actually would be for a long time. "So, what are we watching?" She asked, pushing her thoughts aside and putting her arm around Henry.

"Well Spiderman just ended, so now we're watching The Incredibles," Henry said, blowing his nose into a tissue and throwing it lazily onto the coffee table.

"Henry, ew," Emma said, a look of disgust on her face as she looked from him to the tissue.

"Sorry.," He said absentmindedly, reaching to get it and throwing it to the trashcan across the room.

"Nice shot," Margaret Mary said, leaning back against the couch, "but put another used tissue on my coffee table and I won't be so supportive," She warned, only slightly serious. Henry laughed, turning his attention back to the screen.

"One movie," Emma said, looking at her mother, changing the subject, "and if dad isn't back i'm getting back up. I'm not supposed to watch that much TV anyway and you two need to eat."

"Fine, but please bring a chair to the kitchen if you do," Her mother compromised, looking at Emma as she spoke.

"Deal," Her daughter smiled back.

Mary Margaret's phone rang, vibrating the coffee table and making all three heads turn towards it.

"Is that dad?" Emma asked, focusing back on the screen. She wondered if The Incredibles would ever show up in Storybrooke, almost sure they would eventually, since every other Disney character she could think of had made their way to the town one way or another.

"Yeah," her mother said, picking up the phone and answering it. "David? You almost back? What? Yeah Emma and Henry are right here." She answered, looking at them in confusion as she talked to her husband, "They're both fine, a little grumpy but fine. What's going on? You're scaring me. Oh, okay... well we'll be here." She hung up the phone, a strange expression on her face. "That was weird... well you're dad's home." She said looking at Emma, "He said you have to promise not to get up, or get too excited?" She looked at Emma and shrugged.

"Okay…" Emma said, perplexed, "why?"

"I haven't the faintest idea, he wouldn't tell me," Her mother breathed out, just as confused as her daughter seemed to be.

They could suddenly hear voices in the stairwell, more than just one.

"Probably just Regina coming to check on Henry or something?" Emma suggested as they all exchanged a glance.

"I didn't get a text," Henry said, checking his phone.

The door opened slowly and David's head poked in.

"Emma," He said smiling, his face happier than she'd seen it in a very long time.

"Hi dad… what's going on?" Emma asked skeptically, wondering what her father was up to this time.

"She's had her meds today, right?" David asked his wife intently.

""She" is sitting right here," Emma interjected, pausing the movie and turning back to her father, "and yes, I have taken my meds. Now, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Sitting up a little straighter now, she wondered just what her dad had up his sleeve now. David's smile grew wider, he pushed open the door all the way, revealing something Emma never expected to see.

Her eyes grew wide, her body jolting up and beginning to shake. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Killian?" She whispered, her voice suddenly gone from her body, "Oh my god … Killian!" She cried, her voice cracking as it came back to full volume. She jumped up from the couch, her head and her chest were protesting the sudden movement but she didn't care.

Hook stood in the doorway a smile spreading across his face and looking better than ever.

"Swan."

Emma ran into his arms, throwing her arms around him and pressing her lips against his as tears ran down both of their cheeks. Their reunion embrace only lasted for a few seconds, however, as Emma suddenly withdrew, her chest finally catching up to the rest of her body, and erupting into yet another fit of coughs.

"Come on," Hook said gently, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her back to the couch as she continued to cough in his arms.

"This is why I said you had to stay sitting Emma," David laughed, handing her a bottle of cold water.

Emma gave her father an unamused look, like he would have stayed sitting if Snow White had turned up out of nowhere when he thought she was lost forever.

"It's okay, I'm fine," She wheezed, taking a gulp of the water bottle David offered her and handing it back, her eyes never leaving Hooks. "You," she said, taking her love's head in hers as he sat down next to her while David helped his wife to her feet, "how are you here? You promised me you'd move on…"

"I did, Love. Zeus must have sent me back as a thank you for helping defeat Hades. One minute I was there with him and the next I was in the Storybrooke graveyard, looking at my own damn gravestone," he explained, looking around the room at the amazed faces around him. "But how are you so sick, love? You were fine yesterday..."

"Yesterday?" Emma inquired, "Killian it's been over a week since we defeated Hades.."

"That's impossible, I just left the underworld," he insisted, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Time runs differently here Hook. We were gone much longer than it felt like down there, Granny said it was almost a month. It probably just feels shorter to you," Mary Margaret proposed, leaning against her husband for support and closing her eyes, obviously feeling the effects of her fever.

"So you're back?" Henry added smiling. He'd been so quiet Emma had almost forgotten about her sick charge, "For good?"

"It would seem so lad, I'll try not to ruin this body as quickly this time," Hook joked and put his hooked arm around Emma as she continued to search for breath, and beaming back at Emma's son, who proceeded to sneeze into his elbow several times.

"Bless you, kid," Emma turned around at Henry, who was blowing his nose into another tissue. "Dad did you grab the meds from the store?" Emma asked her father expectantly as she felt Henry's forehead, "I think he's getting worse."

"I hope you got extra," Mary Margaret added, coughing softly as her husband handed Emma the bottle of DayQuil. He looked back at her, just noticing the redness around her eyes and nose and pale cheeks.

"I see Henry isn't the only one who caught the plague," David sighed, leading his wife to a chair on the other side of the couch and helping her sit down.

"What the bloody hell's been happening around here?" Hook asked, looking from one sick Charming to another. "You're without me for one week and everyone's close to death!" He grinned, his cheek just as effective as ever.

"You have no idea," Emma gazed into her pirate's eyes, still hoping, praying that this wasn't a lucid dream from a returned fever, "it's been quite a week Killian," Emma chuckled, taking Hook's hand in hers as she leaned into his chest, grateful for the warmth he provided her still shaking body. "And trust me, you don't want to know." She closed her eyes, feeling his weight shift slightly under her as he retrieved the blanket from the ground that had fallen when she had jumped up, wrapping it around both of them and resting his chin on Emma's soft blonde hair. He laughed softly and she could feel the cheeky grin on his face.

"Try me."