In A Land Without Magic

A Deal With God

New York, Mount Sinai Hospital
Sunday, 12:35pm...

Doctor Carla Ingannamorte stood in the hall quietly, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her white coat as David Nolan still sat melted into the hall chair beside his wife's room. His head hanging low as his elbows dug deep into the top of his thighs; something precious twiddling back and forth between his fingers. Emma sat beside him, one of her arms looped around his shoulders as she leaned in close with whispered promises that his wife was strong, that she'd pull through whatever was thrown at her. Carla still wasn't quite sure how this blonde was related but she was assuming she was his sister seeing as how they favoured one another in looks as well as mannerisms.

Mayor Hood on the other hand was openly pacing back and forth between the three of them; her cell phone is pressed to her ear as she shook her head in disgust. Anger, that's what she was, a fiery ball of barely contained rage more than anything else after leaving a voicemail for a man by the name of 'Gold'. Carla couldn't blame the woman though, she could plainly see just how close the two sisters were. If this had been her own sister she's sure she'd follow the same destructive path.

Regina comes to a dead stop in front of the Doctor, one of her hands still had a tight hold on her cell phone as other hand fell to her hip as though she was part of the Nolan bloodline as well. "I'm sorry, I'm just not fully understanding this... what exactly do you mean her heart is giving out? Is this all because of the stroke?"

"That's what we're trying to determine, but so far it doesn't appear to be related."

"So what, we just sit around and do nothing?" Doctor Ingannamorte just looks at her before briefly flashing her gaze over Mr. Nolan than back to her. Regina knew there wasn't a solid answer the woman could give but yet still she was demanding one. "This is insanity."

"Mrs. Hood, we-..." Carla cuts herself short, pausing as though she's unsure if saying the following words would bring her and her staff into question. Her hands emerge from her coat as she folds them across herself, frustrated that the science she'd dedicated her life to and put her trust in every day was coming up blank for this family. "...we're going to run some more tests while we monitor her, but as of right now my colleagues and I don't quiet understand what's happened. The only way I know how to put it is... well-... it's like her heart is only partially functioning, as if she's suddenly missing half of it."

At those words, David and Emma both lift their heads and lay their gaze not on Carla but rather the Mayor standing beside her. "Regina."

"I know, David. I know." Their brief words hint with a telling tone, an unspoken sentence that the three of them seem to collectively understand all while leaving the Physician out of the loop. Regina pinches the bridge of her nose as her eyelids squeeze closed, thoughts and plans racing back and forth across her mind. She could stop the dark thoughts from entering, the 'what ifs' or 'maybes' bombarding her like a siege in war. Her hand falls away as she faces Carla with a pleading look. "What now? A-..a heart transplant?"

There's a weighted pause as the Doctor takes a breath, one that doesn't help fight back the Mayor's dark thoughts. "Potentially, I may be able to put Mary Margaret on the list, but-.."

Regina cuts her off with a sharp step towards her. "But what?"

Carla take another breath, one that's far deeper and slower as she gently shakes her head. The amount of hoops and red tape transplant recipients had to go through was ludicrous and unfortunately this woman's sister didn't mark all the boxes she needed to qualify. "....but as of right now?...she's not what would be considered a healthy candidate." It's like all the oxygen on the face of the earth had been ripped away from the family lingering around her. That look of despair and destress she was receiving from Mayor Hood was something she hated; secretly praying that she'd never get use conversations like these. "...I'm sorry."