Once Upon a Time 1. Home is Where the Trouble Is

A/N: This was written for the swanqueenbigbang challenge on tumblr, beta'd by the lovely Mais (underthesunset91 on tumblr), and has an amazing fanmix to go with it. Links can be found on my profile.

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If asked, Emma Swan would consider herself a non-believer; a skeptic. She didn't believe in wishes, or fate, or magic, and she certainly didn't believe in fairy tales.

That said, it was kind of hard to remain a skeptic when there was a damn dementor flying around your head.

Or when a fireball came _this close_ to lighting your hair on fire.

"Look out!" Henry shouted from beside her as the creepy, dark, faceless _thing_ swooped down. Grabbing her son by the sleeve, she tackled him, shielding his body with her own.

After a long moment Emma pulled back, looking for the attacker, but they were alone in the sparse area of a forest; not even Killian—who she_knew_ was responsible for their current location, somehow—was to be seen. A scream sounded from past the tree line, where Emma could see the briefest bit of movement and light, and with a deep swallow, she stood up.

Her heart was pounding but she walked toward a thick tree, the trunk obscuring the action in the clearing just past. Icy air bit at her bare fingers as she rested her hand on the tree and looked around it, to see what was happening.

Two women stood in the middle of a small clearing, not more than thirty feet from the tree, as the _whatever_ swooped down toward them, over and over again, like a bird of prey. One of the women stood with a bow held up, an arrow already aimed upward toward the beast, while the other stood beside her, arms stretched out as she hurled another fireball.

Movement caught her eye behind the women, and when the figure turned to face her she could see that it was him—_Killian_—the stranger that had been following—_hounding—_her for days with ridiculous claims and way too much eyeliner. He had been the last thing she'd seen before she was suddenly here—wherever here was. Emma had taken just one step out of her door to take Henry out for dinner before she heard his insincere apology as he tossed something at her feet.

A low, growling _whoosh_ sounded out, enough to make Emma's bones tremble from across the clearing, and the thing flew down, whipping past Killian with a sickeningly wet noise.

Emma turned back to Henry quickly, eyes wide, and licked her lips anxiously. "Henry, I need you to stay here." Henry scrambled to stand up, his feet slipping on the wet leaves beneath him as he looked around, lost.

"What was that thing? Ma?" Emma reached out as he finally stood and gripped his shoulders, squeezing tightly.

"I need you to stay here, behind this tree. Do you understand?" Henry opened his mouth to protest, and Emma shook her head firmly. "Kid, do you—"

"Yes!" He whispered harshly, and Emma gave him a quick smile before she moved him back away from the side of the tree so that he was fully blocked from the commotion.

Emma took a deep breath and then stepped away from the forest into the clearing, staying low as she tried to figure out what was happening. The woman with the bow stepped away from the other, holding her weapon out as she moved backwards to where Emma could see Killian lying, unmoving on the ground. Now facing Emma, she could make out some of the details of the woman's face; the round cheeks, long black hair, and most notably, the look of determination she wore.

In an instant the flying creature descended once more, flying low between Emma and where the woman stood, and before she could think to shout, Emma felt pain radiate from her arm. Tears sprung to her eyes as she dropped to her knees, unable to stop a scream from emerging at the shock and pain.

"Emma?" she heard someone ask, and she gritted her teeth as she opened her eyes to see where an arrow had sliced through the red leather, and cut deep into her flesh. Her hand flew to her arm to stem the bleeding, the blood pooling between her fingers hot and sticky.

The woman with the bow started to run towards her, but the other woman reached out, grasped her arm and yelled, "Snow, _focus_!" before she dropped her arm to conjure another flame in her palm. The archer—Snow, _really?_—hesitated at the command, looking incredibly lost as she stared at Emma before she clenched her jaw and pulled another arrow out of her quiver, turning to aim it up in the sky where the creature continued to fly.

"_Now!_" the other woman screamed, and Snow turned to her right just as a fireball was thrown toward the creature, forcing it to move to the side as Snow let loose her arrow. Emma struggled to watch the scene before her, standing on shaky legs as the arrow made a clean arch, landing squarely in the middle of the creature's chest. It looked as though the arrow was absorbed into the dark nothingness of the monster's body before it let loose another bone-shaking growl, and flew off high into the sky.

The threat gone, Snow dropped her bow to the ground and turned toward Emma, taking long, rushing steps until she enveloped her in a hug that made her wound throb and her shoulders tense. "Emma, it can't be you," she whispered against Emma's hair. Emma stilled, the heat from Snow's embrace smothering and comforting her at the same time. Her throat thickened with emotion as a sense of familiarity washed over her, made her relax for the briefest second into the strange woman.

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Emma pulled back, and, using her good arm, she elbowed Snow back until she was able to breathe.

Questions about what she had just witnessed clamored for attention, but Emma bit out, "Do I know you?" as the other woman walked toward them quickly, her mouth gaping slightly as she came to stand beside Snow.

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief and her face softened. "Emma," she said on a breath, and Emma's own quickened slightly. She was dressed in all black, from her boots and pants to the black jacket she wore, and her short hair was slicked back in a braid, a few strands escaping to curl against her neck. Her mouth was parted in surprise, and in the glow of the moonlight Emma could see a deep scar above her lip.

In an instant the woman's face tightened, her shoulders pulled back and she swallowed deeply as she looked around with wide eyes. "Is—" she cut herself off, breathing heavily through her nose. The reaction was intense, and Emma turned quickly, assuming her panic came from the flying figure coming back, but when she looked around she saw nothing.

The movement was too sudden and the injury on her arm flared in pain at her action. Emma gritted her teeth against the sting and took an uneven step back. Immediately each woman reached forward to grab her, as Snow gasped. "Emma, you're hurt!"

The other woman dropped her hand and turned, gesturing toward Killian on the ground. "So is he. We need to get him back—both of them back," she amended, brows furrowing at the sentence.

Instinctively, Emma shifted away, Snow's hand falling from where it rested on Emma's good arm. "Emma, please," she begged, "I'm guessing you don't remember anything, but we have to get you to the castle so we can take care of your arm."

Panicking at the reference to her memory, Emma walked backwards, starting to move toward where she had left Henry. "Emma, wait!" Snow yelled, following after her, hands held up to show she wasn't trying to harm Emma. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. If you come back with us we'll fix your arm." Emma breathed out through her nose. At the lack of response, Snow said quietly, "Emma, trust me. Please."

There was something instantly soothing about Snow's voice, and Emma found herself listening, taking a step forward, even. Snow smiled wide, and nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "OK, our castle is just through those trees."

The other woman stepped forward and leaned her head towards Snow. "Help me get Hook." Snow nodded and hesitantly walked towards the injured man, the woman glancing quickly at Emma before she followed. As they lifted him up Emma could see his dark clothes had become even darker, now soaked in blood. Emma winced at the sight; she'd seen her fair share of bad injuries in her line of work—on herself, even—but it never ceased to be amazing how much _blood_ there could be.

Emma bit her lip as the women picked Killian up by his arms, each flinging one over their shoulders, and began to walk toward a thin area of trees ahead. She was loathe to bring Henry into all of whatever this was, but leaving him alone in the woods was hardly an option, either.

Her head started to throb as she ran over toward where she had told her son to stay, and she pressed her fingers hard against her wound, hoping that the dark night sky would block the gory sight from Henry. Rounding the same thick tree, Emma called out for her son, looking frantically around the small forest area.

"Ma," Henry breathed, hugging her closely as he ran to her side. Her jaw clenched with the wave of pain that radiated throughout her body, but she used her good arm to pat him on the back, relaxing slightly.

"C'mon kid, follow me," she said, immensely grateful to whatever deity of teenage stubbornness was on her side as Henry fell into step with her immediately.

"Emma?!" A panicked voice cried out from the clearing, and when she reentered the area Snow had paused, Killian drooping dangerously between her and the other woman as she did so. "Emma," she breathed as Emma neared, face illuminated by the moon.

Henry moved to walk beside her, and Hook slid farther to the ground with a small groan. "Henry," the woman beside Snow gasped, eyes wide and lips trembling.

When she started to drop the man in her arms toward the hard ground, Snow pulled him closer, and said quickly, her voice dripping with pity, "Regina, _please_."

The other woman—Regina—scowled at Snow, but pulled Killian back up none too gently. "Fine, let's get this fool back so I can finish him myself," she said darkly. Regina eyed Emma and Henry a moment before she began walking toward the far trees, Killian's almost-dead weight making their movements heavy.

"Emma, follow us. Our castle is just past these trees," she said again, her eyes pleading as she looked over her shoulder quickly.

There was nothing but forest on all sides of the clearing; no lights to signify a small town or city or business anywhere, and Emma saw no signs of a road. Taking Henry's hand like she'd done so many times when he'd been a child—and sometimes after if he'd let her—with her bad arm, she followed the three ahead of her, out of any other alternatives. Her arm was still bleeding, she could feel the sticky heat dry around her knuckles, and she needed to get it patched up—sooner rather than later, a life lesson she'd almost paid dearly for on one of her first cases out of town, and one she would not make again now.

The trees were thicker in this part of the forest, and Henry pressed closer to Emma, brushing up against the cut on her arm. He jerked away instantly, hand falling from her grasp as he wiped at his cheek only to see blood on his fingers. "Are you hurt?" He asked, voice thick with fear, and Emma gave a watery smile, shaking her head.

"I'm fine, kid, don't worry about it." Henry looked like he wanted to say more, but before he could Snow and Regina stopped, just past the thick trees. Emma and Henry took quicker steps toward them, breaking through the forest and coming to stand in another clearing. This clearing, however, was much bigger—huge, even—and in the center of it sat the most impressive castle Emma had ever seen in her life. Not that she'd ever really seen one in her life, but she could imagine this one would hold up if she had.

Snow and Regina set Killian down—not incredibly gently, she noticed—and Snow squeezed Regina's shoulder. "Can you…_try_, while I get Blue?" Regina stared down at the barely conscious man before her and nodded, though her attention repeatedly flickered toward Emma and Henry across from her. "I'll be right back." She said reassuringly, giving Emma a long look before she turned around and ran toward the building.

Regina knelt down gracefully beside Killian, and took a deep breath before holding her hands over his stomach and closing her eyes. The splay of her hands in thick black leather gloves obscured the bulk of the gore, but Emma could still see long scratches across his abdomen, deep enough to expose way too much of his insides.

Belatedly thinking to shield Henry, Emma pulled him back behind her, and asked tentatively, "What are you doing?"

Regina looked up, eyes wild, and her splayed hands rolled into fists. "Concentrating, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Emma leaned over, kneeling down a bit, and gently tried to move Regina's hands out of the way so that she could see just how bad the damage was.

"I don't recall you being a doctor, Miss Swan," she bit out, hands unfurling once more.

Emma's brows furrowed at the repeated inference of familiarity from both this woman and Snow, and swallowed down the uncomfortable confusion and prickly panic that came along with it. "I'm not, but I've been in my share of bad attacks," she kneeled down fully. "Some I didn't even start," she couldn't help but joke, her head swimming from all that had happened.

Regina turned toward Henry, watching him for a long moment as she seemed to almost soak him in, before Emma cleared her throat. Refocusing on the man before them, Emma reached out and gently rested her hand on the bare skin of Regina's wrist.

Something shot through her in an instant, something warm and safe and familiar, and she pulled back quickly as her vision grew hazy. Regina stared at her with wide eyes that matched Emma's own, and she, too, pulled her hands back, resting them on bent knees.

"What _was_ that?" Henry asked, falling to his own knees beside Emma. She shook her head, completely floored. "Look," he said in awe, pointing at Killian. The long, deep gashes were shorter, shallower, and it looked as though the blood that had been gushing out was quickly stopping.

"Woah," Emma breathed out in a rush, leaning back and resting her weight on her arms without thinking. Only, the intense pain she anticipated was replaced by a dull throb, and when she reached up to tentatively touch her own cut, she was met with a similar, slightly smaller wound. "What," she looked toward Regina warily, "what just happened?"

Staring at her own hands, turning them over and over, Regina breathed, "Magic," and looked up in disbelief.

Emma laughed, loudly. The adrenaline from the dementor-thing attacking, from being injured, and from the strange people she'd suddenly been thrown together with finally hit her, and she slid off of her bent legs to sit down on the hard ground with a _thump_. "_Magic._" She raised a brow skeptically, smiling sardonically.

Regina narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. "Yes, _magic_."

Emma laughed again, but Henry perked up. "That was really magic? Magic is real?" He looked at Regina hopefully, fingers curled on his kneecaps as he leaned in.

After a moment's hesitation, Regina nodded, and gave a tentative smile toward the pre-teen. "Yes. Does that," her lip curled back, "_frighten_ you?"

Henry shook his head quickly, meeting Regina's eyes as his own twinkled with a smile. "No, that's so cool!" His excitement was palpable, and it made Emma's own amusement at Regina's claim falter. She hated to crush anything that made her son happy, but this was _ridiculous_.

"Henry, she's teasing you. It's not real."

Regina fixed her with a glare and held out a hand. "I am doing no such thing," and she conjured a small fireball, just as she had been doing in the clearing earlier. Licking her lips she glanced toward Henry out of the corner of her eye, and the fireball seemed to burn brighter at Henry's excitement .

Emma's mind went blank at the sight of what Regina had just done. She waited for the fire to flicker out like flash paper, or to do anything but obediently sit in the palm of her hand, but after long seconds of it doing just that, Emma swallowed.

Because it _couldn't_ be magic. That was ridiculous. Flat-out absolutely impossible. Still, Emma found herself narrowing her eyes and pointing at the flame as she thought back to the clearing. "Hey, you almost burnt my hair off with that back there!"

Regina closed her fist and the fire disappeared as she leaned forward. "I would have been doing you a favor," she sneered, and Emma's own eyes narrowed at the insult.

A groan from between them sounded out, and both women looked down to see Killian's eyes fluttering open, his brow furrowing at the pain. "Swan?" he asked, blinking one eye open to squint at her.

Emma bit back the anger that filled her at the sight of her stalker, the man that had brought her and Henry into all of this mess. Regina didn't seem to have the same problem as she gripped his chin tightly, leaning down to hiss dangerously, "What have you _done_?"

Killian brought a hand up to push weakly at Regina's grip, and gritted out, ""s only way."

Before Regina could say more, a woman dressed in a garish blue dress—looking much too similar to a jellyfish, if you asked Emma—came running over, a man—looking pretty blue himself—with a medical bag in tow. "Regina," he said low, a warning to step back as he took her place beside Killian.

He peeled the torn remains of Killian's shirt and jacket aside, looking at the cuts that were still deep, but much better than they had been, and looked over at Regina in confusion. "Snow said he was almost eviscerated."

Regina fell silent, and, looking almost sheepish, shook her head. "They healed him," Henry said, still in awe at the display of magic he'd seen. "There was this grey smoke around him and then he was just," he held his hands out, "better."

The woman turned to look at Regina, shocked at such an idea and, hey, Emma could relate. "You used healing magic? _Strong_ healing magic?" Regina turned her head away slightly, jaw clenched in silence as she refused to answer.

Killian groaned as the doctor began applying bandages from his bag, and nodded toward the castle behind him. "We better get him back in there so I can finish cleaning this up."

"Swan's magic," he looked up at the woman in blue, and then to Regina. "'s both," he murmured, shutting his eyes as the doctor helped him stand and the two began to walk towards the castle.

The woman looked at Regina again, for a long time before she turned to Emma. "You still have your magic," she said with a smile, her answer already given. "The Savior returns," she gave a small bow of her head and held her arm out. "We must get you both inside the barrier, quickly."

_The Savior_, Emma caught. What had _that_ meant? It had been in reference to her, but not a single day of her life had Emma felt like anyone's savior.

She moved towards the building without much thought, simply grabbing Henry's hand in hers as she walked in front of the woman at her direction and behind a slowly moving Killian and doctor. Regina fell into step beside her, and Emma could see as she cast sidelong glances toward both Henry and her.

"What?" Emma finally asked as they got close to the castle. A bright blue light shimmered around the entire structure in a dome shape, and Emma's stomach fluttered at the sight. For there being no such thing as magic, this entire place did seem rather, well, _magical_.

"How are you two?" Regina was looking between both of them, and though her words implied casual catching-up over coffee, the desperation in her voice read as something much deeper, more fragile and anxious.

Emma furrowed a brow. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you. Any of you. How the hell do you know me and my son?" Her grip tightened on Henry's hand. The urge to flee from the entire situation was intense, but as she took in her surroundings she could see nothing nearby that would indicate any type of civilization—no city lights, no street lamps, no roads or highways or even any telephone poles. Slipping her phone from her pocket, she was unsurprised to see a complete lack of reception confirm that fact.

Regina looked pained for a moment before her face became impassive, and she stared straight ahead. Emma waited for a response but none came, and she eyed the woman carefully. The light coming from the castle they were quickly nearing illuminated the woman more, and Emma could see that her dark jacket was singed on the cuff, that there was a large bruise on her collarbone, and that dark bags rested beneath her eyes.

Gulping, Emma couldn't help but realize that, despite the biting remarks and bruised flesh, the woman was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. More than that, there was something captivating about the haunted look she wore, that—it felt wrong to admit—Emma found beguiling. Clenching her jaw and facing forward she held Henry's hand a bit tighter and the doctor ahead slowed.

They now stood in front of the blue barrier, looking much like a field of electricity as the dome flickered and crackled at will. The woman walked forward from the back of the group to stand directly before the enclosure, and rested her hand along the wall. Slowly, the barrier crackled loudly in front of her before creeping back, and an area of undisturbed air was created, about the size of a door.

"Quickly," she whispered at the doctor, and with a huff he half-walked, half-dragged Killian through the dome and to a small stone bridge that led over a river. Regina motioned for Emma and Henry to walk through and, pausing right in front of it, they did just that, breathing out as she made it to the other side unharmed. Henry smiled up at her, face screaming his enjoyment of the strange situation, and they moved aside as Regina and the other woman came through as well.

"Viktor, take Hook inside and take care of him, I'll be in to assist with magic once I've reset the spell. Regina," she began, and Regina raised an eyebrow, "Snow is waiting for them inside."

Pursing her lips she nodded, and gestured toward the large door to the castle with an outstretched arm. The three walked in silence past the open doors, and paused when the doctor—Viktor—and Killian headed toward the right.

"This way," Regina murmured, and led them to the left, down a long hallway to a small room with a single door. When she opened it, Snow stood at a small dining table—big enough for only six people—talking to an older woman with short white hair.

They both turned at the sound of the door opening, and in an instant Snow was upon Emma, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Emma," her voice was thick with pain, but she held Emma tight. Unsure how to respond, Emma left her arms limply at her sides, and looked past Snow's shoulder to where the older woman was holding Regina by the arms, smiling at her.

The older woman dropped Regina's shoulders, and took large steps over to Emma and Henry, smiling knowingly at them. "It's good to see you both," she said, and patted Emma firmly on her uninjured shoulder. When she caught sight of the bad one she looked to Snow. "Are you gonna take care of that, girl?"

Snow ducked her head a bit and nodded, and she walked back toward the table, pulling out a chair. "Snow told me you don't remember right now, but you can call me Granny. Sit here and I'll get her some bandages to fix you up." Before waiting for a reply she crossed the room and left through another door. Emma sat down as she asked, Henry taking a seat beside her.

Now in a safe, quiet space, the room fell silent. Snow sat in the chair on the other side of Emma at the head of the table, and Regina stood at the side of the table. "Does it hurt badly?" Snow asked, gesturing toward the wound.

Emma shrugged a shoulder. "I've had worse."

Snow sighed. "It was my arrow, wasn't it? I'm so sorry, Emma. I had no idea you were there."

Emma smiled sympathetically at Snow's guilt and started to unzip her jacket and shrug out of it. "It was dark, I believe you. Sad to see this girl injured though," she laughed, and set her jacket over the arm of the chair while she pushed the sleeve of her black T-shirt up to her shoulder. The cut didn't look nearly as bad as it had, and Emma looked over to where Regina stood. "So, wanna tell me how you really did this now? And Killian's wounds?"

Regina scoffed. "Killian? And I told you, dear. Magic."

Rolling her eyes, Emma let go of the shirt, letting it fall down a bit. "OK, seriously, what is with you people? Are you like some crazy LARPing enthusiasts? I won't interfere with your game, OK, just give me some antibiotic and my son and I will be on our way."

Granny reentered the room with a bowl of water, a cloth, and a few bottles and set them down beside Snow. Smiling in thanks, Snow took the cloth and wet it, before opening one of the bottles and pouring a little of the liquid inside on the rag. Granny said, "I'll whip up some food for you four and be back in a bit," before leaving the room once more.

"We're not—I can only assume you're talking about role-players—and this is not some game," Regina said evenly. "You're in the Enchanted Forest."

Emma's eyebrows raised in skepticism and amusement. "OK, sure, we're there, uh, here. Got it. That's just real-world medicine, right?" Emma pointed at the rag Snow held to her arm, wincing at the resulting sting.

"Mom," Henry said quietly, "they're not lying. This is a fairy tale world, and we were brought here to help them."

Emma looked at her son quickly. "What are you talking about, kid?"

Henry squirmed in his chair looking guilty. "Please don't get mad." Emma eyed him. "Come on, ma, promise me."

"No, Henry," she said her body angled awkwardly as she allowed Snow to dress her cut. "Tell me what you're talking about right this minute or you won't be playing Xbox again until you're married."

Henry slumped back in his chair and glared at Emma. "Fine. Killian came to talk to me last week."

"_What_?!" Both Emma and Regina asked dangerously. Holding her hand up, Emma asked, "Wait, I tell him to leave me the hell alone and he goes after my _son_?!" She turned to face the other women. "What the hell kind of people are you?"

Henry stood up straighter in his chair. "They're fairy tale characters!" At Emma's dark face he continued, softer. "Killian—who's Captain Hook, by the way—came to see me because _you_ wouldn't listen to him," he said accusingly. "He told me that our family was trapped here, and that they were in trouble. He said that you were the only one that could save them, that you had once before, and I was the only one that could get you here."

Emma collapsed back in the chair, crossing her arms as Snow finished up with the dressing on her arm. "Kid," she started, her voice tired and disappointed. "I don't even know where to start. Talking to strangers is dangerous. We live in New York, Henry, you know not to do it, so what the hell were you thinking?" Her face was lost as she searched his for answers.

"I was thinking I believed him. That it's always been just the two of us—and that's been great—but that it could be a different kind of great with more of us. And that," he licked his lips, looking awkwardly at Snow and Regina. "I don't know, some other stuff, too."

Emma sighed. "You know the superpower thing doesn't work all the time, right? Just because someone believes something is true—"

"Doesn't make it true, yeah, I know." Henry pointed at Snow and Regina. "But don't you feel it? Killian said our family was in trouble, and when we show up they're attacked by a dementor!"

"Actually, a wraith, dear," Regina gave a small wink to Henry that made him smile.

He leaned closer to Emma and said, quietly, "And I feel like I know them. Like they know me," he finished, looking at Regina.

Emma stood up, the truth of Henry's words hitting her harder than she'd like to admit. Because, yeah, something did feel awfully familiar about these people, something that made her heart feel a little bit warmer. "Look, I don't know what your aim is here, indoctrinating my son in some," she searched, "Disney-Hell cult, but it's not gonna work."

Henry stood up now, too, and reached into his back pocket. "I didn't believe at first, either, ma! The hero never believes at first," he said with a small smile, unfolding the paper in his hand. "He told me that a year ago we lived in Storybrooke, with them, and had for two years. And that there was a curse that sent us—you and me—to New York." He thrust out the handful of papers with a determined glint in his eyes. "And it erased all of our memories of living there."

Emma looked down at the papers to realize they were photos; five of them. In the first, Emma and Henry sat in front of a sign that read_Storybrooke_. The second showed Emma standing beside Snow, Henry in front of her, and a tall, blonde man on her other side. Three and four were also her, Snow, and the man, but in the last one Henry stood in a diner, talking to Regina as she smiled over at him.

The last made her breath catch in a sudden punch of guilt—there was something that _hurt_ in that picture, despite the wide smile the woman wore.

"Henry, about what Killian told you," Regina started, and sat down at the table.

Emma cut her off, confusion warring within her as she questioned the validity of her own mind. It was terrifying, and she said, weakly, "These could be photoshopped, Henry."

Henry looked away from Regina, where he'd waited for her to continue speaking. She'd fallen silent instead, and he looked Emma in the eye as he shook his head. "You don't believe that."

Emma closed her eyes. "That I don't know my own life? Your life? Jesus, Henry, doesn't that scare you?"

Henry smiled gently, almost too-knowing for his age, and said, "Yeah, ma. But what if what we've forgotten is worth the fear?"

Regina cleared her throat and Emma saw her nose twitch, as though she were holding back tears. Snow, too, looked lost, and Emma sank back down in her chair, weakly.

Granny reentered the room with a tray of sandwich halves. "Leroy told me what happened out there! You all must be starving, dig in," she stood behind Snow, and squeezed her shoulder as she held the tray out in front of her. Snow took a few of the sandwiches, murmuring a thank you as Granny walked to stand behind Regina, repeating the motion. When Regina took only one half, Granny nudged her gently, and she picked up one more with a raised eyebrow but a small smile.

Granny set the tray down between Emma and Henry—the latter of which immediately dug in—and sat down at the other head of the table across from Snow. "So," she leaned back, "what do they know?"

Emma tilted her head and picked up a sandwich, peeking at the kind—turkey, score—and saying flippantly, "Just that Henry and I lost two years of our memories, you're all in trouble—I'm supposed to save you—and magic is real." She bit into the sandwich before adding, "Oh, and you're all characters from a storybook."

Granny's eyes twinkled in amusement at the recitation. "And yet you sound skeptical, girl," she joked, standing and nodding toward the window with her head. "Well, maybe this'll help." She pointed, "Here comes Prince Charming right now."

Snow stood up, looking over her shoulder as she did so, and turned fully to face the door, wringing her gloved hands together anxiously.

Emma dropped her sandwich and looked over at Granny who winked and left through the door she'd entered. Looking to Regina, Emma raised her brows. "Prince Charming? Like in Cinderella?" Regina pursed her lips suppressing a grin as Snow whipped around.

"That movie got it all wrong," she said stonily, and licked her lips. "I'm Snow White, and Prince Charming is my husband."

Emma breathed out through her nose and tilted her head down. "Seriously? You're Snow White." Snow answered with a proud nod. "And Killian is Captain Hook, like with the flying pirate ship."

Snow nodded again. "It's called the Jolly Roger."

Emma stared at her a moment before pointing to Regina. "Who are you?"

Regina's jaw tensed and she looked to Henry, her lashes fluttering almost imperceptibly. "I'm—"

"A wi—no, a sorceress." Snow cut her off, looking at her meaningfully. When she turned back to Emma she said, "Her story isn't in most books."

"OK," Emma dragged out the sound, "So this is real? This is serious, you all actually believe we're in another world and you're Disney characters."

Regina smirked, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Well, not all of us. For instance, the doctor that's attending to _Killian_ right now is Viktor Frankenstein."

Emma leaned forward, her voice low. "_Frankenstein_? As in Dr. Frankenstein's monster, Frankenstein?"

Regina leaned forward, her voice low. "He was his brother, actually," she bit back a smile.

"Oh my god," Emma groaned, and fell back against her chair. "Tell me you don't really believe this, kid?"

Henry shook his head, picking up his last sandwich. "No way, ma. I know it's crazy and I know you have to be the grown-up and tell me I'm wrong, but it's true. I know it's true." He bit into the sandwich and leveled her with a stubborn look, "And you do, too."

Before Emma could reply, the man from the pictures walked into the room, a fur-lined cape flowing behind him. His strong footsteps fell silent suddenly, and Emma watched his open, hopeful face contort into an over-sized grin. "Emma," he breathed, and dropped the bag he held, rushing toward her and kneeling down to bring her into a crushing hug.

Before she could push him back, she felt his large hand gently cradle the back of her head and her heart stopped. Her arms, of their own accord, came up to rest on his back, and she felt herself melt into the hug.

Just as when Snow had hugged her in the forest, this felt familiar and warm and _right_—this felt like home.

Throat thick with emotion, she finally pushed gently at his shoulders as she both felt the pain in her own injury and realized that the man hugging her was Snow's husband—Prince Charming.

When he pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears, and he stood, smiling down at her before looking to the chair behind her. "Henry," he smiled bigger, lighter, and cupped the side of Henry's face, his palm covering his cheek and ear.

"I can't believe Hook did it," he said with a small laugh.

"_WHAT?!"_ Regina stood up, slamming her hands on the table. "Are you saying _you knew_ what that pathetic pirate had planned and let him bring my—Henry here?!" Her face was thunderous, and Emma gulped at the intimidating sight.

Prince Charming shifted back, dropping his hand from Henry and leveling Regina with a strong look. "I sent him to bring Emma, Regina. I didn't know he'd be bringing Henry."

Regina's glare darkened, and she leaned forward over the table, the leather of the gloves smoothing where her fingers curled into fists. "_You imbecile,_ of course Henry would be with her, he's a _child_!"

Snow stood up from her spot at the table and walked around the corner of the table to face her husband. A slap sounded throughout the room, making Emma jump a little in shock. "_How dare you_?" she whispered, furious. "You know what it's like here, you _know_ the danger we face outside that barrier and you brought them into this? Willingly?" Snow shook her head, eyes dark, "What on earth could have convinced you to risk our," she looked to the side, her voice lowering, "_family's_ life like that?"

"My family's already in danger, Snow!" He said forcefully, gesturing at her. "Every single day I know I could lose you when you leave this castle with_her_," he pointed at Regina, "and I can't keep doing nothing!"

Prince Charming breathed heavily for a moment, the room silent before he reached for Snow's hands, though she drew them back. Emma suddenly felt uncomfortable watching such a personal argument, but she couldn't look away as they spoke of her and Henry, and most importantly, of family.

After a long moment, Snow said, "Well, risking their lives for mine was the worst choice you could make," she said quietly. "And you need to send them back," she added, stepping away from the table. Snow looked at Emma, her foot shifting on the castle floor as she made to walk back toward her, before she closed her eyes and froze.

When she reopened her eyes she made a concentrated effort to look directly at her husband as she repeated, "You need to send them back," her voice cracking as her eyes watered. Her arms came to wrap around her waist as she did, finally, look back at Emma. She watched her face for a long moment before she turned quickly and fled the room, her footsteps echoing in the cold space.

Emma shifted in her seat, more than ready to get Henry and herself out of the castle and back home. Before she could move, Regina stood, and reached into the pocket of her pants, pulling out a small scroll.

Emma was captivated as she held it out and walked toward Prince Charming, her eyes dark. "It's so sweet when a man has faith in his beloved." With a sneer she thrust it out toward his chest and leaned in dangerously. "She wanted to be the one to tell you, but we got it."

Emma looked at the object he held, small and decorated in ornate paper. She turned toward Regina and hesitantly asked, "What is that?"

"A location spell," she said simply, clasping her hands in front of her. "A very powerful one, in fact."

Henry's eyes lit up. "More magic? Can I help?" Regina pursed her lips and shook her head.

"No, Henry, you can't." With a long sigh, Regina looked down at her hands and said, "And as much as I may hate to agree with Snow, she is right." Looking straight at Prince Charming, she said, "We must send them back to New York," her eyes murderous.

Henry's face darkened and he pouted, "But we came to help you."

Her face softened as she looked to the boy. "I know, Henry, and you've no idea how much I appreciate it," looking to Emma, she added, "how much all of us appreciate it. But you've seen what this world is like. It's too dangerous for you both."

Regina's resolve to send them back prickled at Emma. The selflessness of her words was intriguing, addictive, and the rebelliousness Emma so often felt swelled at the firm tone.

Emma licked her lips and sat up in her chair. Her instincts warred between the need to flee home to safety, and the curiosity at what this group of people believed her to be, how they believed she could help them. And—if she was being honest—some indistinct feeling of familiarity they stirred in her, paired with an odd protective urge.

Henry nudged her and before she could stop herself she heard her own voice ask, "If I say I believe you—_if_—and _if_ we were to stay," Regina glowered, "how would we even help you?" She snorted lightly. "I don't know if you noticed but I wasn't a whole lot of help with that thing back there."

Prince Charming set the scroll down in front of her and crossed his arms. "Despite what you may think, you _can_ help us, I know it." Quieter: "You_have_ to be able to."

"_David_," Regina growled, her lip twitching up dangerously.

He ignored her and continued. "Snow and Regina have been unable to find any information on a way to stop the wraith, and the only idea they have left is a long shot. They've had too many close calls, and if this plan doesn't work…" he trailed off, face open in concern.

Regina continued to stare him down, but didn't disagree. Emma asked, "So what's the long shot?"

Cutting Prince Charming—_David_, Emma thought, gratefully—off, Regina answered: "Merlin."

"_Merlin_?" she asked in disbelief. "You brought me here to find Merlin?"

David hesitated. "Well, the spell they found—"

"_Tracked down_," Regina corrected.

"—is meant to find him. But we don't know if he's even still alive. No one's heard from him in decades."

"He's immortal, you oaf," Regina bit out, "and no matter how idiotic I may find your wife's plan, I'm certain she does not appreciate your complete lack of faith in her."

"It's not a lack of faith in _her_ and you know it!" He stared Regina down, and Emma tensed, upset and confused by the dynamics of the supposed family she'd stumbled into.

Emma looked over at Henry, who appeared to be equally as unsettled. Smiling reassuringly at him she patted his knee. "OK, and if we don't want to help? You'll just send us back home?"

"Yes," Regina answered.

"Well," David hedged, "that's not exactly _feasible_, right now."

"And why not?" Regina asked. "Getting emotional?" Her tone was mocking, but her own hurt expression belied her indifference.

"Jefferson got the hat working again, but considering how badly burned it was it only had enough power for a trip there and back. We think." Before he could say another word, a fireball flew across the room barely missing him, and landing with a scorch against the wall behind him.

"You _think_?!" Regina's face was murderous. "You _gambled_ on their inter-dimensional travel? I should flay you where you stand, shepherd!" Emma's eyes widened, and Henry reached for her hand. Looking over at the both of them Regina lowered her arm. "I'm sorry," she said, presumably for startling them, nervous eyes focused on Henry.

Emma looked between David and Regina. "A hat? The thing that Killian threw at us, was a _magical_ _hat_?" Both of them stared blankly at her and she snorted. "A hat brought us to a different world. That seems—"

"Have you noticed any signs of advanced society, Miss Swan?" Regina's eyes were dark, focused. "Any highways? Stores? Anything other than forest and this castle?"

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Well it's not like we went sightseeing before we came across you, you know." Regina let out a deep breath and Emma sighed in response. Because despite her words being true, she'd been able to look around enough to know that they were absolutely in the middle of the fucking country at the very least and, according to the cast of _Into the Woods_, they were in the middle of the country in another damn world.

And, yeah, Emma didn't exactly have an alternate explanation to how they were so instantly transported out of the middle of New York City. Biting the inside of her lip, Emma shook her head, accepting for the moment the—beyond insane—idea that she and Henry had gotten dropped off here via hat.

"So, we're stuck here?" Emma asked, slowly. She'd been uncertain if she was going to stay and help them—the mere thought was insanity—but knowing that she was, according to them, stuck in a strange world, was enough to override any sympathy and make her want to get the hell out of dodge.

Neither Regina nor David answered for a moment, simply gave each other uncomfortable looks. Finally, Regina said, "For the time being, I'm afraid so." She looked at the scroll on the table and picked it up. "We've lost all usual means of transportation due to the curse that brought us here. If this spell works," she gestured with the scroll, "and Merlin is still here, he may be able to send you back."

"But you don't know," Emma finished.

"No, Miss Swan, I'm afraid I don't." She looked at Henry and set the item back down on the table. "But I promise you both, I will do my best to see to it that you make it back safely, and soon." Her words were to both of them but her eyes didn't stray from Henry the entire time she spoke.

The depth of her words, especially aimed toward her son, moved Emma, and she felt her shoulders ease, knowing in that moment how completely Regina meant what she said.

Regina looked to Emma, then, and the two shared an intense moment, a silent understanding to protect Henry passing between them.

Emma licked her lips as she mulled over what she knew at this point: a group of strangers claiming to be her family had sent a man to stalk her—and her son—to get her to another world so she could rescue them all from some crazy mythical enemy by tracking down the most famous wizard in the world.

It was insane—absolutely insane, no argument.

But Emma had always been one to go with her instincts—they'd kept her alive this far—and there was something indescribable about how she felt around them; a feeling that she was loathe to admit her son shared, and therefore made it nearly impossible to write off herself. The ferocity both Snow and Regina had showed in their desire to keep Emma and Henry from danger was touching, and did go a long way to soothe some of her fears, as she had been able to feel that protectiveness as though it were something tangible.

With a sigh, Emma, rested her hand on the useless phone in her pocket reminding her of the complete lack of options she had anyway—she and Henry were stranded in the middle of nowhere—be it in her world or another—with no means to take care of themselves. Whether all of this was real or not—and she was terrified to find herself considering the former—she couldn't argue that there was a better option right now than acting as though it were all real until she would be able to get her bearings.

Setting her hand on Henry's shoulder, she nodded, mind made up. "OK. We stay with you and help however we can while we try to find a way to get Henry and me back home safely. Deal?"

Regina's lips turned down at her announcement, but she nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised, Miss Swan." Emma's head titled at the almost smile that graced her lips before she turned to look at Henry.

David rested his hand on her shoulder. "Come, I'll have Granny show you to your room." His voice wavered as he spoke, but smiled, and walked over toward the door across the room. When he pulled it back, Emma could see part of a kitchen, Granny standing at an island in the middle.

While he spoke to Granny, Emma looked at Regina and hesitantly prompted, "So we're all…_family_?"

Regina smirked, and looked at Henry before shaking her head and looking down, her smile fading in an instant. "David and Snow are your family. I am…" she looked up, lost.

"A family friend?" Emma supplied helpfully, and Regina smiled tightly in response.

"Yes, I suppose so."

David stepped back into the room, and Granny walked through the door, carrying a handful of cloth.

"Alright, young man, come with me." Henry did as she asked, jumping out of his seat and following her. After a few steps she turned, and tilted her head toward Regina. "That woman went through a lot tonight, wouldn't you say? Why not give her a hug."

Regina looked up, startled at the suggestion, but before she could move Henry gently wrapped his arms around her waist, his head resting against her chest as he hugged her tightly. After a pause she rested her hand on his back, drawing him closer, and leaned down, eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her cheek to the top of her head.

Emma was unable to look away from the sight; Regina looked as though she could float away, suddenly, after a night of sharp retorts and glares and clenched fists. It was curious, such a reaction to her son, and Emma found herself wondering what, exactly, her—and Henry's—relationship to Regina had been in Storybrooke—assuming there was a Storybrooke.

When Henry pulled back the blissful expression was gone, replaced by wide eyes and open vulnerability—the look was shocking, almost painful to watch but also captivating. Emma found herself getting lost in the expression.

"Emma?" David carried his own armful, and nodded to where Granny and Henry had just headed out toward the hallway. "I'll walk you."

Emma rose from her seat, nodding, and hesitated at the table for a moment, unsure what to say to the other woman. Finally, she murmured a simple, "Good night," and followed the prince out of the room.

"About all of this," he waved at the castle with his free hand, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, that I made this choice lightly." Emma turned her head slightly to face him as he spoke and he did the same. "It _is_ dangerous here, and I struggled for a long time about if I should even attempt to bring you to the Forest." The hallway was dark, but a few ceiling lights—curious, Emma noted—hung above them, giving enough light to see David's look of concentration.

"I didn't know you for very long in Storybrooke," he said slowly, "but I felt like it was my duty to protect you, even if you didn't need protecting." He smiled. "I've tried to hold onto you in the past, tried to follow you and be there for you. But I learned quickly that you're a strong woman, and you can take care of yourself.

"No matter how scared I was, I _am_ to ask you to help Snow, to help both of them, how scared I was to bring you here in the first place, I know that you can handle it." Emma smiled slightly at the way he spoke about her, though another small part of her felt disappointment at the assertion she was fine alone—even if she believed it to be true. "More importantly, I know that you, the amazing woman I got to know in Storybrooke, that she would have wanted to do this."

He paused in front of a staircase, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder with his free hand. "I'm scared for Snow, of course, but I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for her, at least not completely." He smiled sadly, cupping her cheek in a way that made her feel suddenly emotional. "I brought you here for you. No matter how much you fought the title, the thought, even, you're the Savior. Not because of some prophecy, but because of who you are."

He turned and walked up the staircase, Emma following even as she tried to process the words. She'd heard it earlier that night, from the woman outside—and oh, god, what kind of pretty little princess must _she_ be with that dress—but had yet to hear an explanation of what that title meant, how on earth it was connected to her.

David paused at the top of the stairs, and Emma looked to what had his attention. Sitting in front of a door was Snow, something resting in her lap as she stared down, cheeks wet and eyes red. "Snow," David said, walking toward her, but she held up her hand.

"No, David. Not right now. Go to our room and we'll talk there." Her jaw was as firm as her words, and David nodded once before holding out the pile he carried.

"There are towels and a pair of pajamas there, as well as a change of clothes for tomorrow." He looked to Snow briefly before adding, "They're Regina's, so they should fit you." Emma nodded with a small smile. "The bathroom is right across there," he pointed to a room across the hall, "and it should have everything you need. If you think of anything else…" he trailed off at Snow's glare.

"I'll let you know, thanks," she gestured with the clothing and David turned, slowly, before walking back down the stairs.

Beside her, Snow cleared her throat. "Emma," she started, voice thick, "I'm sorry about leaving earlier it was just—"

"Overwhelming? Yeah, I get that," she laughed, and Snow joined in, though the sound was hollow. She looked at the bundle Snow carried, and asked, "What's that?"

Snow took a deep breath and held it out. "It's your baby blanket." Emma's eyes widened and she reached a hand out, resting on the soft white yarn.

"What? No," she pulled back. "I lost mine in a house fire years ago." The memory still hurt, but she'd come to terms with it back then.

Snow shook the blanket out and revealed the corner, where _Emma_ was weaved in purple ribbon. With a gasp, Emma ran her fingers over the name and said, "This is really mine? But how—"

"I assume anything you lost when we were sent back was explained away by your new memories." Emma remained skeptic, though the blanket truly looked to be hers, which would be impossible if her own memories were to be believed.

"OK, so why do you have it?" Snow hedged, and Emma waited, eyes wide and confused.

"I," she licked her lips, "David and I are…" she looked Emma in the eye and said evenly, slowly as though it had been carefully practiced, "friends of your parents. We knew them."

Emma stepped back, floored by her admission. "You knew my parents?" Snow nodded, biting her lip a bit. Her jaw tightened immediately at the ridiculous claim, the extremely personal claim that Snow used against her. She looked directly at Snow, and felt as though she was telling the truth, that she had, truly, known Emma's parents.

Fingering the ribbon of the blanket, Emma asked, carefully, "You're serious?" her tone brooking no room for deceit.

Snow met her guarded expression head-on, and nodded. "I am."

Ducking her head, Emma licked her lips and closed her eyes. "If that's true," she stipulated, "I have a lot of questions." The tight line of her jaw communicated her seriousness on the matter, but Snow didn't back down.

Snow nodded again, raising her chin as she handed over the blanket. "I know you do. Go, get some rest tonight. I take it you're staying?" Her voice was hopeful, though she tried to temper it. Emma nodded, and Snow looked down. "Of course you are."

She walked past Emma, unblocking her door, and Emma turned, not ready to let Snow leave without answers. "Snow—"

"Tomorrow," she hugged her arms to her stomach as she tilted her head. "Tomorrow I'd like to tell you about your parents, but not now." She pointed toward the door. "Henry's already inside. Good night, Emma."

Snow reached out again, as she'd done downstairs, her face twisted in conflict before she rested her hand on Emma's forearm with a small squeeze, then turned away and walked around a corner, out of sight.

Her blanket sat heavy in her arms, the familiar weight and texture and even smell of her most prized possession a welcome presence. Tucking it against her chest she crossed toward the bathroom door, a little wary of what she would find in a fairy tale castle. However, when the door opened she was met with a restroom more fit for a mansion than a castle—a glass shower sat in the far corner, a modern-ish toilet across from it, and a large counter sink against the wall to her right.

"Wow," Emma couldn't help but gasp as she made use of the facilities—complete with plumbing. She brushed her teeth with the spare items she found in the medicine cabinet, and took a quick but satisfying shower before she changed into the silk pajamas she'd been given.

_Regina's_, she'd been told, _so they would fit_. And how had that been known? Regina had explained she'd been a family friend, but did that mean she was _Emma's_ friend, too? So close they shared clothes, even? The thought was absurd, not only considering the woman in question was _so_ not the type to trade sweaters, but that Emma herself had never, ever been that kind of a friend to anyone.

As she closed the door and walked across the hall she shook her head at the complete whirlwind her night had been, ending with the powerful claims from Snow and the return of her blanket. Opening the door, she found Henry laying on his back atop the covers of the big, Queen bed, dressed in pajamas, too.

"Comfy, kid?" She asked, trying to keep her tone light as she set her clothes down on a trunk at the foot of the bed. She hung on to the blanket, bringing it with her as she neared her side of the bed.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking at the ceiling. "Just thinking."

"About the dementor we faced, or the sorceress that tossed a fireball at Prince Charming's head?"

Henry laughed and shook his head. "It's a wraith, ma. And neither of those things."

Emma crawled under the cover and Henry followed, cold toes warming quickly beneath the thick blankets. "Can't be math homework, 'cause I'm pretty sure this is a good excuse for being late with it." She tucked her blanket beside her pillow.

"Are you mad at me?" He rolled his head to look at her. "For talking to Hook, and tricking you."

Emma sighed, and stared straight ahead as she let his heavy question linger a moment. "It's not that, Henry. I'm disappointed." He sighed, and she pulled him to her quickly, hugging him as she rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring his embarrassed complaints. "Cliché, huh? Well how about this: I'm scared. You know as well as I do how many dangerous people there are out there, and, OK, this one brought us to a fairy tale world, but others could do worse." She tried to keep her voice light but the fear she felt was real, was visceral, and she would do anything—_anything_—to keep her son safe.

"I know. I do, really. And I'll admit it wasn't my finest moment. But I know how protective you are of me, and I'm not complaining, really, but it's why I had to hear Hook out. I knew you'd never entertain this idea for a second if it meant letting some possible lunatic into your life." Emma smiled and closed her eyes at the insanity of the conversation. Because she _was_ starting to entertain this idea. It was all starting to pile up, the pictures, the feeling, the protectiveness, her blanket—it was all a little more convincing than she was comfortable with.

Shaking her head she laughed. "Confirmed lunatic: he either truly believes he's Captain Hook and isn't, or really is, and—you watched that movie a lot as a kid—neither is a sane option." After a long moment, Emma asked, "Are you so desperate for these people to be related to us because…" she bit her lips and shook her head, suddenly embarrassed at her own question. "You know what? Never mind, kid. Get some sleep." She rolled onto her side, away from Henry and back on her own pillow, her fingers tangling with the yarn of her blanket.

After a long silence: "It's not that you're not enough, mom. You know that, right?" Emma felt tears prickle behind her eyes and she shut them tightly, trying to keep her breathing even. "I've seen the files, in your room. And last week I saw an email from that PI friend of yours. I know you started looking for your parents again."

An intense combination of rejection, hope, and failure all warred within her at Henry's words. As an experienced investigator herself it had always been rather embarrassing to admit that she'd been unable to find the people that had abandoned her; the only people she ever truly wanted to find. She'd tried desperately to keep her search from her son, nervous that he'd take the idea of grandparents and run with it, only to be crushed by each dead end Emma ran into.

"You can talk about it, you know. I'm not a kid anymore, I can help you look." Emma said nothing, instead biting her cheek to keep her emotions in check. "And your parents leaving you…it doesn't mean you're…less." The embarrassment of her son trying to comfort her was too sharp, and she buried her nose into the borrowed pillow.

"I just thought that if they were here, if we had family here, that we should find out who they are." Henry took a pause, and when he spoke again his words were full of conviction. "I think they really do need your help, ma. I think…I think that, even though Snow and Regina think it was a mistake, that it was a good thing Prince Charming sent for us. And," he breathed out, weighing his words carefully, "family or not, I can't stand the thought of any of them getting hurt."

Emma sighed, understanding exactly her son's feelings. "Yeah, kid, same here." She eyed the blanket beside her, and thought of the woman that had given it to her; how she'd presented it so delicately, how she'd said so firmly that Emma and Henry should be home, should be safe.

She thought of the dementor—_wraith_—that had swooped down and almost hurt the women that defended her and her son so fiercely, and that had hurt their friend, possibly _her_ friend in some other life. And she thought about how, if she could help them, protect them like they tried to protect her and Henry, that she wanted to—that she really, _really_ wanted to.


	2. I've Got the Magic in Me

Warnings: passing reference to neglect and domestic abuse.

* * *

Emma woke to the sound of heavy knocking on her door. With a groan she rolled out of the unfamiliar bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she yawned. The room was still mostly dark, heavy curtains only allowing a sliver of sunlight in to illuminate the space, and Emma felt around for the door knob before tugging it open.

The light from the hallway was much brighter than Emma had been prepared for, and it took great effort for her to open her eyes. As she finally blinked open she saw Granny standing with her hands on her hips. "Rise and shine, girl! Everyone else is already downstairs for breakfast." She looked past Emma to where Henry was still sound asleep. Lowering her voice a bit, she asked, "How are both of you doing?"

Emma groaned as the entirety of the previous night rushed back to her. "No better than can be expected, then?" She crossed her arms. "Well, take a moment, but don't dawdle. You may not have noticed, but there are quite a few people here that are mighty anxious to see you again." Leaning in conspiratorially, she added, "I had to stop more than one of them from waking you at sunrise."

Furrowing her brow at the unfamiliar idea of there being people—besides Henry, of course—waiting for her, Emma leaned against the door frame. "OK," she said, and Granny turned around with a wink. "Wait, Granny?" She grunted in acknowledgment as she turned back. "Everything that happened yesterday, I'm actually supposed to believe that it's all _real_? Magic and fairy tales and Henry and I losing our memories?"

Granny crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, looking at Emma over her nose. "From what I heard, you came through to the Forest as Snow was fighting a wraith, you saw a man healed before your eyes, and saw a prince almost get roasted in the damn dining room." Her eyes twinkled. "What more proof do you need, girl?"

Emma couldn't help the smile that broke across her lips as she laughed gently, the whole situation still too surreal to truly process. "When you put it like that…" Granny smiled back at her before turning toward the stairs. "Hey, if you're all fairy tale characters—"

"Red Riding Hood's grandmother," she turned back, looking both proud and hesitant.

Emma wrinkled her nose, having a hard time reconciling this tough-as-nails woman with the image of a frightened old lady hiding from a wolf. "Like with the basket?"

Granny barked with laughter. "Don't ask Ruby that." She turned again to head toward the stairs, but stopped at the last moment. "I know you don't remember, but you sure made an impact on us before," she waved at Emma's head, "you know. And whether they can send you back or not, you should know that every damn person in this castle would put their lives on the line to protect you and Henry.

"So don't do anything stupid or rash," she leveled Emma with a knowing look, "got it?" Feeling thoroughly scolded for an infraction she hadn't even made, Emma bit back the defensive words on her tongue and nodded. "Good. Now get going before David eats all the bacon."

* * *

After waking Henry up, the two had taken turns using the bathroom and changing. Emma, into Regina's borrowed brown pants, a short white tunic, and a russet leather wrap vest, as well as her own lace-up boots. And Henry into tan pants and a purple tunic that Granny had told him were Dopey's—_yes, the dwarf_, he'd said smiling—both of which were precariously held to him by a thick black belt across his slim waist.

She still had her reservations about the whole—still totally insane—story these people were trying to sell her, but damn if the weird clothes and the way-too-scratchy shirt weren't helping to convince her. Because, really, who wore this kind of stuff enough to have extras?

Freshly dressed they headed downstairs, fortunately remembering the short path to the dining room. On the stairs, Henry asked, "We're still gonna help them, right?"

Emma looked over. "Second thoughts?"

Henry shook his head fervently. "No way! I'm glad." He smiled at his mother and added, "Thank you."

Emma breathed a heavy sigh. "You know this isn't some book, right, Henry? This is real—apparently—and dangerous." Henry's face darkened at the almost-reprimand, and Emma cracked, her stern face softening. With a small smile, she nudged his shoulder. "And I swear, if you bring a dragon back with us I am _not_ going to be the one to take care of it."

Henry rolled his eyes but his shoulders relaxed as he tugged on the heavy door to the dining room. "I was six! And Mickey was fine."

Emma's eyes widened, point made. "Yeah, because I fed that damn fish _every day_." Henry walked into the room, Emma following. Snow, Regina, and David all sat around the table, Snow and David as far apart as possible on opposite ends. "Morning," Emma said warily, sensing the tension at the table.

"Emma!" Snow smiled openly, a complete change from her sullen attitude the night before. "Are you two hungry? Granny made us pancakes."

Henry slid into the chair across from Regina and licked his lips. "My favorite!"

Taking the seat next to him, Emma looking into the mug beside her full plate, smelling coffee and warming at the sight.

"Did you sleep well?" Snow asked sweetly.

Emma looked over at her and smiled, nodding. "Thanks." The table was quiet, the tension uncomfortable. Emma gave Henry a comforting smile as he shifted in his own chair, picking up on the thick silence.

Holding up the plate of bacon—Granny wasn't lying when she said they'd better beat David—Emma held it between her and her son, and they each filled their plates before she repeated the action with the pancakes.

Trying not to feel uncomfortable under the heavy stares she felt from the others, Emma smiled politely and looked up to catch Snow's own melancholic smile. Growing up she'd always imagined what it would have been like to have family meals, but, judging by this one she hadn't missed much more than awkward tension and shifty glances.

Clearing her throat gently, Regina set her fork down, and wiped at her lips delicately with a napkin. Picking up her mug of coffee she broke the silence and asked, "How are your classes going, Henry?" Her shoulders were rigid and her knuckles white on the mug, though she spoke lightly, casually.

"It's OK," he munched on a strip of bacon. "I transferred this year so most of the other eight graders have already been together since sixth grade."

Regina shifted in her seat and glanced quickly at Emma before looking back at Henry. "Are you having difficulty making friends, Henry?"

Looking around the room at all of the eyes on him Henry's cheeks pinked. "I have friends," he defended quietly. "I do, just not a lot." Emma rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"Henry's just a quiet kid. But brilliant, aren't you?" She nudged him playfully.

"Ma," he groaned with a smile.

Regina smiled brightly. "I had no doubts. What's your favorite subject this year?" Emma's brows furrowed at the almost ravenous look on Regina's face as she asked about Henry. It went beyond the typical small talk between adults and children, and Regina seemed _desperate_ to know each bit of information.

"English," he smiled, licking his fingers from the syrup he'd gotten on them. "Ms. Michaels says I'm a natural writer." At the bragging tone he paused, looking embarrassed and then shrugged. "But there are a lot of good writers in my class, so it's not that big of a deal."

Regina set her mug down gently. "Henry, you never need to be ashamed of your abilities. I'm sure you're the best writer in your class, your imagination has always been wonderful and your reading abilities are advanced."

With a smile Henry ducked his head, playing with his fork. "Thanks," he held her gaze for a moment. Emma watched Regina, curious at the intensity of her words and the familiarity insinuated in the same. Normally such interest in her son would put her on edge, immediately defensive—and the urge was not entirely absent—but something about this woman's interest didn't seem concerning. In fact, it felt comforting in a way.

"Ma thinks I should enter this creative writing contest at school, but I don't know."

Henry's words pulled her back and she smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "Of course you should, kid. The rest of the school needs to know how great you are. I'm getting sick of being the only one aware of your brilliance." Henry blushed but smiled up at his mother, looking so like the little boy he had been years ago.

"Oh, I'm certain you're not alone," Regina said behind her coffee mug with a small wink to Henry. Looking down at her hands, her hair slipped forward—loose today, and brushing her shoulders—almost hiding the way her lips curled up gently. The haunted look that had been so prevalent yesterday seemed somewhat softened, and she seemed almost _comfortable_, where she'd been tightly wound the night before.

The room fell quiet again. After a beat, Emma cut her food with the side of her fork and said, "So, I have a question for you." Snow, David, and Regina looked up at her, faces open but wary. "What is with the electricity and plumbing? I thought that was, like, not a thing in fairy tales."

Snow pursed her lips suppressing a smile and Regina poured herself another cup of coffee from the carafe in front of her. "Well, I suppose it's a case of knowing what we hadn't before; tell me, would you go without either after living with them for thirty years?" She smirked, and Emma furrowed her brow.

"Well, no." She looked to the others. "So, what, is it magic?" They all laughed quietly. "Yesterday you were doing everything to convince me that it existed, and today you're laughing at the idea," she said in irritation.

Snow sobered. "Sorry, Emma. But no, this time it's not magic. When we were in Storybrooke we were all given memories of skills—some of us were teachers, doctors, electricians—and we brought those skills back with us," she looked to Regina with a small smile.

"Wait, so how did you all end up in Storybrooke in the first place?" She leaned back. "You know, if this is a different world and all."

Snow opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. "There was a curse, and it sent everyone over there with no memory of themselves as they'd been here," Regina cut in, watching Emma carefully.

"You broke it, though. When you came to Storybrooke." Snow reached over and took Emma's hand gently as she spoke. "You're the Savior." Emma tensed at the term, and pulled her hand back, squirming in her seat. Just as it had yesterday, the term made her uneasy.

"What the hell does that mean?" Her words were harsher than she intended. "You said it last night," she looked to David, "and that woman, with the big dress, she said the same thing."

"Her name is Blue," Snow started, easily, "and she's the leader of the fairies." Glossing over Emma's skeptical face, she continued. "And it means just what I said: that you broke the curse that brought us to your world. You returned our memories, Emma, and brought us together."

Emma scoffed quietly. "Well if that's not proof you have the wrong girl—"

"It's the truth, Miss Swan." Snapping up at Regina's even, firm tone, Emma sucked in a breath at the intensity of her eyes.

"It is, ma. Killian told me the same thing back home." Henry's face was open, pleading, and he looked so young in that moment, so much like the ten-year-old that had stared up at her in admiration so often.

Emma sighed. "So, you think I can help you with this problem because I'm some savior?"

"Well, actually more because you have magic," David said slowly, looking carefully at his wife. "Powerful magic, in fact. And I was hoping that you'd be able to help them find a way to stop the wraith."

Emma's brows furrowed. "But I thought that's why you have the spell thing to find Merlin. To get him to help you? 'Cause I gotta say, I'm not up on my wraith knowledge." She looked around the table for an answer, and her attention settled on David's uncomfortable frown.

"That's our plan, Emma," Snow answered. "Regina and I have been trying to find this spell to locate him because we only know a few things about the creatures." She looked to Regina and tilted her head slightly. "We know they're vulnerable to fire, so Regina is able to keep them at bay somewhat. And silver can wound them temporarily."

Emma leaned forward. "Like silver arrows?"

Snow nodded. "Exactly. But no one knows how to stop them permanently. None of our methods have been able to slow the wraith for more than a few days at most."

"So what makes you think Merlin can give you some answers? Wraiths don't exactly seem to mix with dancing mops and buckets."

"Ma," Henry groaned, pushing his empty plate back. "He wasn't in _Fantasia_, you're thinking of Yen Sid."

Emma's face twisted in confusion. "Who?"

"Yen Sid, he's the sorcerer in 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice'." Henry looked at Emma condescendingly. "Merlin is from King Arthur? The story of the sword in the stone, Excalibur, the round table?"

"I thought—" Regina cleared her throat, and when Emma looked over she felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment. "OK, fine. So how does he fit with the wraiths, then?"

"He's the oldest known magic user in our world, or any other." Regina's hands clasped together on the table. "Well, save for the Dark One, though he's been," she bared her teeth in distaste, "_missing_ as of late."

Raising her brows, Emma asked, "Missing? Someone named _The Dark One_ is missing. You sound rather cavalier about that."

Snow smiled gently. "He's not as bad as the title implies," she looked between Emma and Henry reassuringly, but bit her lip at Regina's derisive scoff. "Well, not exactly, anyway. It's a pretty long story."

"OK, so Merlin's super old. You think that means he knows stuff that isn't written down anywhere," she surmised, taking Regina's nod for confirmation. "So you use your spell to find him, and then learn how to stop the wraith-thing." At the lack of response, Emma shrugged her shoulders and looked to David. "So, I guess I don't get how I fit into this plan."

David shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said quietly, "I wasn't certain they would be able to find the spell. I thought maybe your magic would be powerful enough to stop this thing, somehow. The last time we got rid of it, you—"

Emma leaned forward. "Wait, you've dealt with this thing before?" David nodded. "How did you kill it last time?"

"We didn't kill it, Miss Swan. It's an undead creature; you can't kill it." When Emma simply stared at her she licked her lips and continued. "A wraith will only stop searching when it has_ eliminated_ its target. When we faced it before, we sent it to another world." With a humorless tilt of her lips, she murmured, "We sent it here, actually."

"And you can't just send it somewhere else?"

"We no longer have any means of travel between worlds, Emma," Snow offered gently. "Besides, to send it somewhere else would be to endanger a whole new population of people."

"But what about the hat Killian used?" Henry asked, looking between the people at the table.

Snow's brows furrowed in confusion. "What hat, Henry?" His face paled as he shut his mouth, assuming he'd said something he shouldn't have. Snow looked past him to David, and repeated, "What hat?"

"It seems your prince has been working with the Hatter behind our backs." Regina said silkily. "Perhaps you should leash him if he's not house-trained, dear." Her eyes sparkled at her own words.

Ignoring Regina, Snow hissed, "I can't believe you, David! What were you thinking?"

Sensing another argument heating up, Emma held her hands out. "Woah, I know I'm new to this whole portal thing, but can we put a pin in this for now? I'm here now, so can we just talk about how we're going to find Merlin and get us back?"

The table focused almost instantly, and David ducked his head a little bashfully from Snow's still-intense gaze. "Fine," Snow said after a long moment.

Biting at her cheek, Emma looked to Regina, who'd been interrupted. "So you can't send it away and you can't kill it, so you need Merlin to tell you how to stop it. Got that. You needed me to help find him, but now you have this spell thing, so you actually don't need my help?"

Regina stilled in her chair, and averted her gaze smoothly, though her jaw seemed to tighten in tension. "I had been planning to cast the spell on my own." Slowly, she continued, "However, since you are here, I suppose it would make sense to allow you to cast with me."

Emma's brows rose as she watched the other woman, who made it sound as though the task would be doing Emma the favor instead of the other way around. With a small laugh she picked up her forgotten fork and cut into her cooling pancakes. "Well, I wouldn't want to get in your way, your Highness," she took a big mouthful, smiling at the way Regina's features darkened.

After a moment of awkward tension, Snow cleared her throat. "Emma, I think it would be a good idea," she said softly, her lips twitching at her own suggestion. "We only have one shot to get this right, and it's the only shot we have right now of getting you home."

Emma's smirk faded at the gentle woman's words, and she licked the syrup from her lips before replying with hesitant shrug. "I don't know," she said. "I don't really have any idea what I'm doing. I wouldn't want to mess it up. Isn't there someone else that can do it? What about the pixie chick from last night?"

Henry snorted. "She's a fairy, weren't you listening?" Emma suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Know-it-all.

"No, there isn't anyone else," Snow said. "We're somewhat low on magic, these days," she worried her lip. "We have the fairies, but they're running out of fairy dust, and the dwarves have been unable to find any more to mine. There were other magic users, but most of them…_died_ back in Storybrooke, and Regina's power is significantly weaker since the wraith started attacking."

"Watch it," Regina bit out, holding her hand out, a small flame flickering in her palm. Snow looked unimpressed but stopped her explanation. Satisfied, Regina closed her fist and set her hands back on the table.

"Well," Emma said, "that sucks and all, but I still don't think I'd be much help. I mean, I just found out I _had_ magic last night—and, for that matter, that it's even real—so I can't imagine I would really be there for anything more than, like, moral support," she finished with a frown.

"Don't sell yourself short, Emma. Before the curse sent us back here, you were making quite a bit of progress in your lessons," Snow said encouragingly.

"My _lessons_?" Emma had never exactly been a fan of one-on-one learning, all that pressure focused solely on her. Just the thought made her stressed.

Snow hesitated, speaking carefully. "Yes. Regina was teaching you." Regina's eyes darkened at the statement, and Emma shifted in her chair; there was something oddly sensual about that idea, and her skin prickled with the possible implications.

Maybe no more _Buffy_ reruns for her.

Clearing her throat, Emma tried to refocus. "_You _were teaching me?" She had a hard time picturing the mostly-cold woman before her as someone she would voluntarily learn from. Though, judging by her expressionless face, Emma wondered if it wasn't just as abhorrent idea for her. Shaking her head a bit to refocus, Emma asked, "So it was something I learned? Like with spell books and potions and stuff?"

"Not exactly," Regina answered, the leather of her gloves brushing together as she interlaced her fingers. Her tone was even, and held none of the distaste she'd just been showing. "Magic is something inherent in certain individuals, generally passed on through a bloodline. Those that possess the ability can use magic, but to use it effectively they must also learn how to control their skills.

"A task you were rather ill-prepared for, I might add." She gave a too-sweet smile that made Emma's eyes narrow. As far as she knew she'd done nothing wrong to this woman—her behavior had even leaned toward something resembling comfort to have her back last night—and yet this wasn't the first insult that had been tossed at her.

The thought made her wonder, not for the first time, what their relationship had been in Storybrooke—not-quite-family friend, biting insults, and clothes sharing didn't exactly go together in a clear qualifier.

"Perhaps my teacher was the problem," she thinned her lips. The smile fell from Regina's lips and turned into something much more honest, and her eyes sparkled with intrigue. The rapidly changing attitudes toward her just added to Emma's confusion about what they had been to each other in Storybrooke.

Breathing out in just a little bit of frustration—raising a son will do wonders for your patience—Emma said, "I still don't think I'd be much help, then. I mean, I was just learning it sounds like and I don't even have those memories to help me now."

Snow smiled knowingly. "You're more powerful than you know, Emma." She looked over at her husband and her face softened. "You're the product of True Love; you can do anything you put your mind to."

Emma grimaced at the sickly-sweet words that fell from Snow's mouth, and felt a small surge of camaraderie when she caught Regina rolling her eyes. "She can light candles on fire, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Though Emma had thought Snow's words were a bit dramatic, she still bristled at Regina's statement. But something else caught her attention. "Wait, I'm what?"

Snow reached out for Emma's hand. "You're the product of True Love."

Emma laughed uncomfortably. "I'm magical because my parents were in love when they had me?"

David leaned forward, stressing the words but looking between her and Snow. "Not _in _love, _True_ Love. It's rather rare in our world."

"Really? Disney sure makes it look pretty common." When Emma didn't continue, Snow prompted her, ducking her head down to try and make contact with Emma's downcast gaze.

"Emma? Are you alright?"

Suddenly feeling tears sting behind her eyes, Emma shook her head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just, unexpected, I guess. I always assumed my parents had a drunken one night stand, or had me on prom night or something."

"Charming," Regina drawled.

Emma's eyes snapped up. "Yeah, that's kinda the point." Her lips thinned in anger, but when Regina held her gaze she felt herself deflate a little. There was so clearly more that she needed to learn about her parents, things that these people could actually answer for her, if what Snow claimed was true.

But, the knot that had suddenly taken root in her stomach made Emma stop herself; her parents being messes she could handle. After all, she'd spent nearly thirty years thinking that very thing. But something about her parents being _True Loves_ made her want to run away from every single answer she could get.

Because if they were in love, if they were happy, then it wasn't that they _couldn't_ take care of her—they didn't _want_ to.

"Emma?" Snow asked delicately, reaching out for Emma's hand again, but she pulled it away, shaking her head.

"Sorry." She looked over at her son who was watching her too closely. Putting on a small smile, she said, "So I help Regina cast this spell and it shows us to Merlin?"

Regina licked her lips. "That is the hope, yes."

"That actually sounds kind of easy," Emma said, blinking slowly.

"Don't count on it, Miss Swan," Regina said ominously. "Things are rarely as simple as they seem in this world." Emma's brows raised, a little surprised at the jaded words, and how intimately she felt them.

Lifting her cup of coffee, Emma replied, "Things are rarely as they seem in any world." The table fell silent, and Emma tried to read the woman across from her. Regina met her eyes, but her face remained impassive. After a small stand-off, Emma leaned back a bit in surrender, but narrowed her eyes at Regina with a smirk.

Regina quirked an eyebrow in response, but a matching smile pulled at her own lips before she stood up. Sliding effortlessly away from the table, she walked toward a small table against the wall behind her, where a small chest sat. It was deep green with gold trim, beautiful, and Regina lifted the lid to pull out the scroll she'd shown David the night before.

Turning back around, she held the scroll gently in her palm, and gestured to Emma's nearly empty plate. "Are you finished?"

It was a question, but Emma was almost positive that it was for show more than anything else. It seemed they would be doing this now, whether Emma was done or not. "I guess so," her lips thinned at the same time her skin heated almost pleasantly.

"So, how does this spell thing work?" she asked as she stood, and pushed her chair against the table. "Does it make us a map or something?" Sitting beside her, Henry snorted. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not GPS, ma," he laughed at her, and OK, she was already done with this teenager-condescension thing and he wasn't even technically a teenager yet.

Emma narrowed her eyes playfully. "Well how the hell am I supposed to know? I didn't even know magic existed until twelve hours ago, and for that matter neither did you."

Regina placed her free hand on her hip. "Well, your mother's question isn't _completely_ off base, Henry." Emma's victorious smile at Henry had Regina shaking her head. "However, it's nothing so straightforward. Rather, it creates an internal sort of guidance that will lead the caster toward their destination. In this case, to Merlin, should he be in this land or a connecting one."

Emma nodded as she tried to process it all. "Like a gut instinct," she said.

"Yes, I suppose so," Regina nodded.

"Are you gonna do it now? Can I help?" Henry asked cheerfully, and Regina swallowed hard.

"Henry, I think it's best that you stay inside while Emma and I perform the spell." She met Emma's eyes and gave her a pointed look.

"Yeah, kid, what she said. It'll be safe in here, right?" Snow nodded, and stood to walk over to stand beside Henry's chair.

At his pout, Snow cupped his cheek tenderly. "We can watch from the gate, if you'd like." Henry smiled up at her and nodded. "David?" Snow offered, and he practically jumped at the offer to follow. Instead he nodded, smiling at the gesture.

As Regina turned to walk out of the room, Emma held out a hand. "Hey, woah, don't I need magic 101 or something first? Pass a small quiz or, I don't know, transfigure something?"

Regina arched a brow, looking over her shoulder. "This isn't Hogwarts, Miss Swan. And as far as magic 101, consider this the end of the lesson." Emma took large steps to catch up with her at the doorway, the others following close behind.

* * *

"We don't have to worry about that wraith while we're doing this, do we?" Emma asked, looking up warily at the sky.

"No, It can't be out in the daylight," Regina replied, pulling at her gloves as they walked away from the barrier they'd just passed through.

Emma looked over at the gate where the others stood, Henry in front of Snow and David, all watching intently. They were several feet apart, Regina and Emma having walked a ways past the barrier, but Emma could still see Snow's hands come to rest on Henry's shoulders, her gloved fingers curling over rapidly-growing bones.

The air was comfortably warm outside, and she furrowed her brow as she noticed the woman still wore the same leather gloves she'd had on since the night before. In fact, Emma hadn't seen her or Regina take them off once.

Looking over at the latter, she licked her lips, slowing as Regina walked ahead. After mulling over her question, Emma finally blurted out: "What's with the gloves?"

Regina turned quickly, her face open in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Emma nodded down, stuffing her hands into her back pockets. "The gloves. You and Snow haven't taken them off since I got here. And I mean the castle's a little drafty, but…" she trailed off, shrugging a shoulder as she looked at the rest of Regina's outfit.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Regina pulled off one glove, very slowly, and let the leather fall to the ground. Her right hand bare, she held out a smooth palm to Emma. "It's nothing."

Emma eyed the bared flesh in front of her, before looking up to find Regina swallowing hard, her throat moving with the action. "Take my hand," she murmured, and Emma reached out slowly, letting the subject drop for a moment.

Once her bare palm had settled against Regina's own, the woman stiffened. A spark ran up her arm at the contact, but when she looked up Regina was staring straight at her, face impassive. _Must have been my imagination_, she thought, and gripped Regina's hand tighter. "Don't get any ideas, Miss Swan. As Snow was so anxious to point out, my magic is a little less powerful than usual. Physical connection will help, considering you're a novice."

Emma's superpower tingled a bit, and she couldn't help but wonder at that. The touching hadn't seemed like a big deal until Regina had said that, and her own discomfort now was very interesting indeed.

"This is safe, right?" Emma asked, suddenly picturing every magical mistake that had happened in the movies Henry so enjoyed. "I've never done this. Well, this me hasn't, I guess." Regina offered an almost-warm smile at Emma's own, awkward as it was.

"You did it the first time without any prompting. You'll be fine." With a small huff of air, she spoke quietly, eyes unseeingly on Emma's throat. "I will do everything in my power to get you and Henry back safely, I want you to know."

"I believe you," she replied without thinking, and was surprised to find that, indeed, she did believe Regina. It soothed her in the same moment it made her irrationally nervous, guilty, like she had something to apologize for when, in fact, she'd done nothing.

The longer she spent with these people, Emma realized, the stronger that sense of familiarity became, the more she believed in Henry's conviction to help these strangers that were, supposedly, the opposite.

Regina's soft smile drew a similar one from Emma, and she could have sworn she felt that jolt of something dancing along her skin again as she held Regina's hand. "We hold hands, now what?"

Bending at the knee, Regina began to sit down on the grass, and Emma followed, until both cross-legged facing one another. "I'm going to cast, and you are going to be, to put it simply, a power source." Emma looked at her skeptically, but nodded for her to continue. "I will be guiding the course of the spell, providing it with the information of who to find. And you, will be, in a way, powering my guidance. Does that make sense?"

Emma closed one eye and grimaced. "I think so? But how do I, you know, power you?" The words felt strange, and Emma shook her head at her own question.

"You have to tap into your magic, and try to release it to me."

Emma scrunched up her face. "This sounds pretty complicated."

Regina squeezed her hand almost imperceptibly; Emma was sure she wouldn't have felt it if she hadn't been focusing on the feeling so closely. "I'll be drawing from you as I cast, and it'll help you know what to do. Think of it like a large box, and I'm pulling and you're pushing. Once I'm pulling, you'll know where to push." She set the scroll down gently beside her. "Here, I'm going to conjure fire, and you try to power it up."

Regina held out her other hand, still clad in a leather glove, and after a brief pause, a flame the size of a golf ball appeared. "Can you feel that?"

Emma closed her eyes, squeezing Regina's hand as she tried to search for some feeling, something that was pulling from her, but she felt nothing. "Relax," Regina said softly, her hand loosening as she pushed Emma's fingers apart, her own threading between them until their palms clasped together. "You don't have to look for it, it'll find you."

Her voice was soft, so smooth, and Emma couldn't stop the thrill that ran up her spine at the rich tone. She took a deep breath, trying to think of relaxation techniques she'd heard over the years, and rolling her shoulders.

She tried clearing her mind, thinking of nothing, but then Regina moved slightly, her fingers rubbed against Emma's own, smooth fingertips caressing the back of her hand, and then _she felt it_.

She'd been expecting a chill, the slow creeping coldness that was akin to blood being drawn, but it was something else, something warmer, and infinitely more welcoming. It coursed over her like warm rainwater, rolling down her neck, her shoulder, her arms, and down each finger as she pushed where Regina pulled.

Suddenly the heat wasn't warm, wasn't welcoming but _hot_, much too hot to be harmless, and when she opened her eyes the small flame had become the size of a kickball, and the fire was turning a cool blue.

With a gasp Regina closed her hand into a fist as Emma jumped back, their hands falling into their own laps as they took deep breaths.

"That ever happen before?" Emma laughed, though it was mostly adrenaline and little amusement.

Contemplative, Regina flexed her gloved hand and shook her head. "No, I can't say that it has." Emma breathed heavily, still recovering from the shock of what happened. "Perhaps a little more practice is in order." Picking up the glove next to her on the ground, Regina slipped it back over her exposed hand, tugging it down firmly before offering her hand once more.

Emma's brows raised. "No glove, no love?" Regina stared blankly at her and Emma squirmed. "It was a joke, Regina."

Pursing her lips she reached over and took Emma's hand, opening her other palm-up once more. "I hope you aren't this crass around Henry."

Emma dropped her hand. "You know, you're awfully concerned about how I'm raising my son."

Regina held her gaze for a moment before she relaxed her shoulders and dropped both hands to her knees. "I know you've no memory of it, but you and Henry knew us all before. Rather well, even." She struggled over her next words, her fingers pressing into her kneecaps. "It's been a year since we've seen you, a rather long year, I might add, and I've gone the entire time not knowing how you've both been doing.

"A year without knowing that what I did, sending you both away, if it was the right choice for Henry. For both of you," she added quietly. Searching Emma's eyes closely, she asked, "Honestly, how has Henry been?"

The words felt accusatory, the mere questioning of her parenting enough to put her on the defensive, but somehow that didn't seem like it was why Regina was asking. At least, not entirely.

"He's been…happy." At Regina's unsatisfied look she continued. "He's still pretty quiet, still reads a lot," she wasn't sure what Henry had been like a year ago if her own memories were, in fact, a little less than accurate, but she knew her son, and some things were constant. "He's been making friends, but he's pretty shy. Good grades, does his chores, plays video games after dinner. He's happy," she shrugged, confused at how to summarize her completely typical eighth-grade son. "He's normal."

Regina stiffened, holding out her palms again, eyes downcast. "I see," she murmured, and when she looked back up at Emma her face was again impassive, stoic; all traces of the vulnerability she had seen just seconds ago were gone. It left Emma feeling unsettled, a little guilty, even, that she had brought back this look to Regina's face. But if she had wanted to know that Henry was doing well, why had just that answer left her so shut down?

Trying to lighten the mood, she joked, "Aren't you gonna ask about me?" Her words had started out playful, but she couldn't help the smallest flare of hurt that caught in her chest at the question. Because really, Henry had said they were _all_ a family. And wouldn't that include her and Regina?

"We both know that you can get through anything, Miss Swan." She smiled crookedly. "Your strength—while annoying more often than not—is something I haven't dreamt of doubting in quite some time." Conjuring another small flame she held out her left hand straighter. "Come on, we better get you and Henry on your way back."

Emma grasped her hand loosely, and nodded. "OK, so what should I do differently this time?"

"Magic is emotion, and the stronger the emotion, the stronger the magic." She eyed Emma. "You've obviously got the power aspect under control, but you're going to need to exert control over it, which I'm sure will be quite the challenge for you." Her tone was cold but her eyes sparkled almost imperceptibly. "The last time we did this my magic was much stronger, and I could handle your…output more effectively."

Emma immediately thought to when she'd healed Killian the night before, but quickly realized that she must have been talking about how it had been before the curse. The thought of them combining magic didn't quite answer how it was that they were family or friends, but she filed it away as Regina continued. "I'll extract more carefully, this time. I was not anticipating such a reaction. Are you ready?"

Nodding, Emma closed her eyes, and tried to clear her mind as she'd done before. She focused again on nothing, tried to become immune to the rustling of the leaves and the crispness of the air.

Emma sat in silence for what felt like a full five minutes before she opened her eyes. "Regina, nothing's happening." Regina opened her own eyes and glowered at Emma.

"Patience. It's going to take time."

Emma huffed, shifting uncomfortably. She was pretty sure her ass was falling asleep. "It didn't last time."

Tightening her hold on Emma's hand she bit out, "We're trying to avoid doing what happened the last time, remember?"

Emma matched her glare. "It's this stupid glove, seriously, what is up with them?"

Regina's chest heaved as she breathed out slowly, as if dealing with a petulant child, which only added to Emma's sudden anger. "Emma," she said evenly, her tone dark as she looked at her with deep brown eyes.

Suddenly the warmth began to crawl down her arms again, her frustration melting into something softer, nicer, and she turned her head to watch the fireball grow slowly, until it was as big as a grapefruit.

"Wow," she breathed, smiling at Regina. "We did it."

Nodding tersely, Regina closed her fist, the flame disappearing. "You see what a little patience will get you, Miss Swan?" Emma rolled her eyes and bit back a response. "Again."

Leaving her eyes open this time, as it clearly made no difference, Emma watched Regina conjure the small flame. When Regina nodded at her to begin, Emma tried to pinpoint what had started her magic the last time. She'd been frustrated and angry most notably, and so Emma licked her lips and looked down, her brows furrowing as she tried thinking of foster care, of prison, of neglectful houses and abusive boyfriends. Her skin was heating, but only from anger; the pleasant warmth she'd quickly become accustomed to was loud in its absence, and she frowned, her jaw clenched.

"Emma?" Regina was pulling back her hand slightly, and the thought of just such a thing made her tighten her grip, eyes flying to Regina's face.

Her lips were downturned, her face open with concern, and the care Emma saw was startling at the same time it warmed her. Like really warmed her, and the magic flow was back, the flame in her hand was growing and as Emma realized what it had been, how she'd accessed that magic she leaned away, dropping Regina's hand and clearing her throat. She looked anywhere but at the other woman while she caught her breath, and she wondered for the nth time, what her connection to Regina had been like.

"I got it, I think we should do the real one, now," she murmured, and Regina eyed her warily, but nodded. As she picked up the scroll again, Emma looked over at the castle, remembering suddenly that _her family_ had been watching the whole time. Except, David and Henry leaned against the gate, heads turned toward one another as they were deep in conversation. Only Snow remained watching them, and she was too far away for Emma to see her face.

"Are you ready, Miss Swan?" Emma turned her head and nodded, looking her in the eye again. Regina held the scroll out to Emma. "Hold the spool in your hand, and I'll tear the spell off while you give me some power."

Emma's brow raised. "And we have a location, just like that?"

"Just like that," she mimicked, only a little sarcastically. Emma held onto the spool while Regina grasped her hand one last time. With a nod, Emma looked at Regina's cheeks, lightly flushed from the heat and exertion, her eyelashes, long and thick against her smooth skin. She traced the curve of her mouth with her eyes, leaning forward without permission as small, even breaths passed between her lips. Swallowing harshly she landed on the deep scar above her lip, even deeper in the shadow of her dark hair hanging effortlessly to her shoulders.

The rush of magic was strong, almost too strong, and Emma tried to focus on the single flaw before her, nothing more as she heard the distinct noise of paper tearing, felt the tug at the spool in her hands.

Pale purple smoke was gathering around them as electricity sizzled in the air, blinding white lights, small as fireflies flew around them without a pattern. "Focus," Regina hissed, her eyes shut in concentration as Emma zeroed in, again, on Regina.

The air was beginning to become heavy, stifling, and Emma felt sweat prickle at the back of her neck. Her head started to feel fuzzy, like it was filling up, overstuffed, and she gritted her teeth at the uncomfortable feeling.

After what felt like hours the lights began to dim and the smoke to dissipate until it was just them, sitting cross-legged in the cool grass, cheeks flushed.

Regina's eyes remained closed, her breathing even, until slowly, her eyelids fluttered. Emma's breathing slowed, the pressure in her head ebbing slightly, as her focus became sharper. She looked over to Regina, the woman deep in focus as she dropped Emma's hand and braced her palms on her knees.

Emma took a slow breath and asked, "Did it work?"

Regina blinked twice and shut her eyes in concentration before standing and turning until she faced East of the castle. Opening her eyes she looked out in the distance, where the beginnings of a small mountain range could be seen over thick forest. "He's in that direction," she said, voice thick.

Eyes wide in surprise, Emma swallowed. "Oh, wow. With how you were talking to Snow about it, I thought—"

"So did I, dear. It seems she was correct," she said, flatly. "The wizard lives." Turning toward Emma, she rolled her shoulders back to stand up straighter. "Perhaps finding you and Henry a way home won't be quite so difficult after all."

Without another word she turned back toward the castle, taking long strides toward the barrier.

* * *

Emma woke slowly, her head full and fuzzy and she immediately winced at the bright sun that peeked between the curtains. It looked to be mid-afternoon, meaning that the nap Regina had—very firmly—suggested had lasted several hours.

The air was still around her, without a trace of the city noises she'd grown used to hearing over the years. The absolute silence of the room was more jarring than anything, and Emma blinked rapidly as she sat up.

She'd shed her shoes and the borrowed vest, and the damp air of the castle left a chill deep in her bones as she got out from under the covers. The nap had been a good idea, Emma had to admit, though she'd protested it initially. The magic use had left her feeling keyed up—pumped on adrenaline like she had been so many times after getting a mark. But the resulting crash had certainly left her exhausted, and after just a few minutes she'd passed out easily.

Emma sat back down on the edge of the bed and started to pull her shoes back on, tying them quickly. As she did, the baby blanket Snow had given her caught her eye, and she wondered if she would have time to question the woman on her parents before they'd have to head out.

Shoes on, Emma left her room, looking down the long hallway. After they'd gone back inside, Regina had offered to show Henry the library, and Emma had watched him walk off with her toward the other end of the castle. Immediately she had been nervous to let her son go off with a woman that she still knew so little about, but as Regina had set her hand gently on his shoulder to lead him away, her nerves had subsided, the tension in her back easing at the scene. She wasn't sure how, but she _knew_ that Henry was safe with her.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Emma started to wander the hall, exploring the large castle. She passed by several doors, all with a different name on the front. Some she recognized from earlier—Viktor, Killian—some she recognized from fairy tales—Tinkerbell, Dopey, Belle—and some she didn't recognize at all—Leroy, Tom, Archie.

It was, to be frank, pretty creepy. Like she'd stumbled into a Disney dorm. With a small shake of her head, Emma turned back around and headed toward the dining room, the only real place she knew to find anyone.

As she neared the staircase, loud laughter caught her ear. Familiar laughter, to be more specific. Turning toward the open window, Emma looked out to see a small courtyard between the castle and the protective blue bubble. In the middle were David and Henry, each with—what looked to be—a wooden sword in their hand as they play-dueled under the sun.

Her son's laughter made her feel light, and Emma couldn't help but linger in that spot, soaking up the scene before her.

"You're awake." Emma turned at the sound of Regina's voice behind her, the wide smile on her face tempered by the interruption. Regina gestured toward the window with a nod. "Henry was a bit restless after lunch."

Her words were succinct and sharp, almost defensive, and Emma shrugged. "Yeah, he hasn't killed anything in like a day in a half, I bet he jumped at the chance for a fight." Regina's eyes widened in horror and Emma snorted holding her hands up. "I'm talking about video games, Regina. Relax."

Narrowing her eyes, Regina crossed her arms in front of her. "That's no better, Miss Swan. You let Henry play those violent games? Often?"

Emma rolled her eyes and turned back around, leaning against her shoulder as she watched her son parry like a—well, an amateur, unfortunately. It seems he'd inherited her teenage awkwardness right on time.

"You're not one of those crazy anti-gamer people, right? You know they don't actually make people more violent." Emma paused. "Well, probably not much more violent."

Regina took a few steps closer to her and stared out the window, too, a small smile on her lips as Henry jumped away from David. "I suppose they're fine in moderation." She looked at Emma out of the corner of her eye. "But they're no competition for classic Mario."

Emma turned to look at her, but the other woman's face remained expressionless, save for a small twitch of her lips. Huh. Emma's eyes narrowed as she licked her lips. "NES?"

Regina turned to face her. "Super Nintendo. Same format, but a little more advanced."

Smirking, Emma asked, "So, you're the save-the-princess type?"

Regina's lips parted and she moved away from the window to stand at the top of the stairs. "I never said I won." She took a step down the stairs, and then spoke over her shoulder. "Snow is waiting for you in the library. I'll show you."

Not waiting for Emma, Regina continued down the stairs. With no choice but to follow, Emma did just that, walking behind and then beside Regina through the hallway. "So, does every fairy tale character ever just live here together?" Emma asked, breaking the quiet.

Stilling for a brief second, Regina said quietly, "No, not everyone." She continued to walk, and Emma waited for her to continue. Finally, she did. "When we came back here, few decided to stay together. Most went off on their own. Those that chose to remain in the castle are just a small portion of those that came back here with the curse."

Regina slowed in front of a set of large double doors. "What happened to the people that left?"

"I have no idea. They're most likely dead, I'm afraid." Regina spoke evenly, but her chin rose, as though she were consciously remaining unaffected.

Emma's eyes widened slightly at the information. "_Dead_? Seriously?"

"Snow was not lying to you, Emma, when she said it was dangerous out there." Emma's chest tightened at Regina's softened tone. _This_ was the woman that she'd seen when she'd arrived; open and a little vulnerable.

Emma's brows furrowed and she licked her bottom lip quickly. "The wraith?"

"No," she murmured. "While we were gone, parts of our world were overrun by ogres."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Ogres? Like _Shrek_?"

Regina's vulnerability disappeared in an instant, replaced by a small glare and pursed lips. "Really, Miss Swan, do you have anything besides children's films as a point of reference?"

Emma squinted. "Um, have a lot of hostage situations? I got a lot of _Die Hard_ memorized."

With a small sigh of exasperation, Regina pointed to the door. "Snow is waiting for you in there."

Regina turned to leave, but Emma reached out and gently stopped her with a hand on her elbow. "Hey, shouldn't we be, you know, heading out to find this guy?"

Clearing her throat, Regina looked down at Emma's hand until she drew it back. "We'll leave in the morning. It's best to be out as little as possible at night." With a small nod she turned, and walked away.

Pushing on the heavy door, Emma stepped across the threshold into the soft light of the library. The room was large, but not ridiculously so, just a single level though the bookcases reached all the way up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room sat two identical couches, facing one another, and a dark wooden coffee table in between with papers, drawings, and books covering every inch. Past the seating was a large fireplace, the flames flicking high behind the protective partition.

Snow sat tucked into one corner of the dark red couch, toward the fire, a book resting forgotten on her lap. She seemed oblivious to Emma's presence, her eyes staring unseeing at the second couch as she bit at the nail on her left thumb, bared from beneath the ever-present gloves that now lay on the seat beside her.

"Regina said you were waiting for me?" Emma asked, standing awkwardly with her hands on her hips. Snow looked up in surprise for a moment before a soft smile broke across her lips.

"Emma, how are you feeling?" She asked, closing her book gently and setting it on the table. Her hands free, she picked up her gloves and slipped them on quickly, before patting the seat next to her.

Emma hesitated, uncomfortable to be so close, but stepped forward anyway. After a pause, she said, "Fine. A little groggy from the nap, I guess." Snow nodded in understanding and Emma sat down on Snow's couch, sure to put herself back against the other arm as far as she could.

"They're always so disorienting, aren't they?" She asked lightly.

"Hmm," Emma murmured in agreement, unsure where to go from here. Snow's eyes were trained sharply on her, and the attention made her skin prickle uncomfortably. "What are you reading?" She gestured to the discarded book.

"Hmm?" Snow looked confused before she caught sight of the table. "Oh. I, um, I'm actually not sure." She blushed lightly. "I got a little distracted. I have something for you." Snow reached down toward the side of the couch, pulling up something bright red and awfully familiar from its hiding place.

"Is that my jacket?" Emma pointed. She'd left it downstairs when she'd gone to bed the night before, its tattered sleeve rendering it rather useless to her without any place to get it fixed.

Snow nodded, and held it up, showing off the sleeve with several tight black _x_s sewing the tear shut. "It is." She smiled.

Emma's own lips parted in a wide smile—that jacket had been through _so much_ with her, and she was pretty grateful to have it back. "Wow, thank you! You did an amazing job." She took the jacket from Snow's hands and ran her fingers over the repaired sleeve.

Snow said nothing, simply wrung her hands together in her seat. "We didn't get to talk earlier, but I told you I'd answer your questions." Emma's face darkened with the intensity of the topic, and Snow held her hands out. "If you want to, that is."

Licking her lips, Emma set the jacket down on her lap and pulled her feet up underneath herself, turning to face Snow more fully. "Yeah, I do. It's just…something I've been waiting for since I can remember." Shrugging, she said quietly, "I guess I'm just a little nervous."

Swallowing harshly, Snow reached out and set a hand on Emma's own, her shoulders relaxing when she didn't pull away. "You shouldn't be. Emma, it's a very complicated situation. And somewhat hard to explain. But I should start by saying that I—they would want you to know that they love you _so much_. And they didn't give you up by choice."

Emma stiffened. "What does that mean?"

"The curse that brought us to your world, it came just after you were born. Your parents had a plan, to get you and your mother to safety before the curse came so that one day you would be able to break the curse."

"Because I'm the Savior," she said, skeptically.

"Exactly," Snow nodded, squeezing Emma's hand. "But you came too soon, and they could only send one; it had to be you." Emma started to pull her hand back. "Emma, your mother didn't want to send you, neither did your father. But the curse would have left you frozen with them, with no possible escape."

Emma did pull her hand back, then, her brows furrowing. "So this curse would have left me with my parents? And we would have been fine, together?"

"We didn't know what would happen," Snow defended. "You could have ended up with them, or you could have ended up an orphan there, too. We had no idea what would happen," she stressed again, clasping her now empty hands together.

Emma's lips thinned. "So I could have ended up with the shitty life I had, or I could have ended up with a happy family?" Snow didn't respond. "Well, I can say with certainty that I would gladly have gambled the childhood I had for the one I could have." Emma stood up, suddenly feeling the need to be up, be away from Snow.

She took several deep breaths, hands on her hips as she processed Snow's words. Quietly, Snow said, "They didn't know what this world was like, Emma."

"I get that you knew them or whatever, but can you not defend them right now? Weren't we, like, friends, in Storybrooke?"

"We were!" Snow said defensively.

Emma held up a hand. "Well, fine. Then can you just be my friend right now and be angry with me? I mean, I'd accepted that they were probably low-life criminals, or stupid teens or whatever. And that they couldn't have taken care of me. But—"

"They wanted to give you your best chance, Emma!" Snow stood, now, too. "Just like you and Hen—"

"What?" Emma furrowed her brows. "This is nothing like Henry. I did the right thing, the _good_ thing, and I _kept_ my son. I did what my parents didn't, and I trusted that a loving life with me was better than putting him into a system that did nothing but fuck me over time and again."

Snow had paled during Emma's words, and she sat down, eyes closed. After a long moment, Snow murmured, "You're right. You did not have the childhood you deserved, Emma." She didn't look at Emma as she finished, "I'm sorry."

Running her fingers through her hair, Emma sat down beside Snow and sighed. "No, don't be. It's not your fault." Snow paled further. "You're trying to help me, I know that. It's just a lot." She tried to smile at Snow, but it was crooked and half-hearted. "Can you tell me what happened to them? The way you've been talking…" she trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge the truth she'd been becoming more and more certain of.

"They're…gone." Emma nodded, her gut telling her that wasn't quite right, more like a shade of the truth, but she could imagine it coming down to semantics. The important part was that she had an answer; she had some closure. "They—"

Emma shook her head. "That's," she sighed. "I get it. I don't know if I want details yet."

The silence weighed heavily between them.

"You met them." Emma turned her head sharply, but Snow continued to look forward. "You met them in Storybrooke, and they knew who you were. You knew them." Heart pounding, Emma waited for her to continue. "You were a _family_, you really were. And I don't think it mattered that you were separated for so long. Not really. I think—maybe I just want to think—that you were happy with them."

Emma leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. She didn't have an answer for Snow. Emma didn't remember any of it—nothing about her parents sounded right or familiar or anything. "You'd think I'd remember something I've been waiting for my whole life, right?" she murmured. She wasn't expecting a reply, and Snow didn't give one.

Instead, she leaned back against the couch, her eyes narrowed in thought. As upsetting as it all was, there were still things she wanted to know—needed to know about them. What kind of people had they been? Had they wanted kids? Would they have been disappointed with Emma anyway—all long limbs and rough edges and zero interest in being a lady?

The questions were big—too big for her still raw nerves—so instead she just sat there in the quiet beside Snow for a long moment. Finally, she rolled her head to the side, and looked at Snow. "How did you know them?" she asked.

"We were friends. Your mother and I, we were very close. Practically sisters," she said with a tight smile that felt much to forced.

Eyes narrowing in confusion, she asked, "How old were you when the curse brought you over?"

"This age," she gestured to herself. "We were all frozen in time. No one aged."

One question hovered closest on her tongue. "What were their—"

"Ma!" Henry burst through the library door, holding up a wooden sword. "David's teaching me how to use a sword!" His face shone from the smile he wore, much too enthusiastic for his maturing face.

Smiling herself, Emma leaned forward, and stood up. "So I saw. You've got some moves, Mr. Swan." She punched him playfully on the arm.

"Nah, I'm pretty bad. But it's cool, right?" Emma nodded in agreement. Looking up at his mother, Henry dropped the sword to his side and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Worried her son had picked up on the intensity of her conversation, Emma shrugged. "What do you mean?"

Giving her a weird look, Henry gestured with the pommel of the sword. "Uh, you performed magic earlier today?"

A little laugh of relief fell from Emma's lips and her shoulders relaxed. "Oh, yeah. I don't know, fine, I think. How am I supposed to be feeling?"

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "Hungry? Regina said to come get you guys for dinner." Emma looked at him softly for a long moment. "What?"

Shaking her head, Emma pulled him to her side. "Nothing, kid. You're an amazing little man, you know that?" Henry looked over at Snow, wide-eyed in embarrassment, but relaxed at her giant smile.

"Yeah, yeah. I learned it from you," he said gently, before pushing away. "C'mon, I'm a growing boy, I need sustenance."

Henry walked ahead, through the library, as Emma bent over to pick up her repaired leather jacket from the couch. When she stood back up she lifted it, and smiled at Snow. "Thank you for this, really."

As she turned to follow her son, Snow's stopped her with a gentle hand to her back. "Actually," she dropped it back to her side. "Regina fixed it, last night. She wanted me to give it to you." Emma's brow furrowed, but she nodded, and draped the jacket over her arm. "Well, we should," Snow gestured toward the door, and Emma walked out, following Snow as she took her down the long hallway to come back to the room she was quickly growing familiar with.

The others were already seated when they arrived, David and Henry on one side, with Regina across from him. "…but I missed," Henry finished as Snow and Emma got to the table.

Regina was watching Henry closely as he told his story, eyes focused. David laughed, and clapped Henry on the back. "It was impressive for a first-timer, let me tell you. You'll get there, Henry," he smiled wide at him.

Snow took a seat at the far side, next to David, and Emma sat down across from her, between Henry and Regina. As she sat, Regina looked over at her quickly, her eyes flickering to the red jacket on her arm before catching Emma's eye. She looked tentative, a bit nervous, and she looked away before Emma could thank her, so she let it go. Instead she turned toward Henry and raised an eyebrow. "Tales from the battlefield?"

Henry smiled and nodded. "Yep. I was just telling Regina about it."

"Just be sure David gives you the proper safety equipment next time. The swords may be wood, but they can still fracture a bone, or—"

"He's fine," David cut her off, staring her down when she glared over at him.

Henry turned toward Emma and smiled, pointing to her jacket. "It's fixed?"

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling Regina's stare. "So, uh, do anything today besides play with sticks?"

Henry rolled his eyes but leaned forward as Snow whispered to David behind him. "Yeah, you were asleep for hours. Regina showed me the library. There are a ton of books on magic and the Enchanted Forest and the history of this world. Did you know there were four Ogre Wars in the past five hundred years?"

Emma leaned back in her chair. "Ugh, getting excited about history, you are not my son." At Henry's pointed look, Emma shook her head. "No, I didn't, kid. Regina just told me about ogres a bit ago anyway. Like Shrek, right? I'm picturing the right thing?"

Henry pursed his lips and looked down his nose at her, and for a moment she could have _sworn_ it was the same look Regina had given her earlier. How long had he been in that library with her?

"Yeah. Regina also told me some more about magic, and the Forest and did you know unicorns are real? And chimera." He looked over at Regina and smiled. "This place is so cool."

Emma felt a brief jolt of jealousy at the way her son was so obviously enamored with the woman beside her. She knew it was irrational—this was her son, and Regina was new, a novelty—but it still stung just a bit. "Well," she put on a brave face and turned toward the woman in question, "I hope you didn't talk her ear off, kid."

"Nonsense," Regina waved her off. "Henry is a very smart young man. I enjoyed his company." Her smile was magnificent, open and warm and her eyes crinkled with humor. Emma felt the insecurity she had ebb, lost in the easy warmth of the usually (or so she guessed) cold woman before her.

Emma glanced over to where Snow and David were still whispering quietly to each other, before Granny walked into the room, holding two plates of hot lasagna over to the table. As she slid the plates in front of Emma and Henry, another woman walked into the dining room behind her, dressed in a pale pink gown, her auburn hair curled lightly around her shoulders. A small tiara sat atop her head, and Emma caught how it sparkled in the setting sun coming in through the window.

"Emma!" She smiled wide as she set two plates of her own down at the table in front of Snow and David, before rounding the table to stand beside Emma. Before she could react she was enveloped in a deep hug, and belatedly her hands came to rest gently along the woman's back. "I can't believe you're really here!"

When she pulled away, Emma looked toward the others in the room for help. "Aurora," Snow started, but the princess shook her head.

"I'm sorry, they told me you don't remember. But Phillip and I are on our way home, and I just had to see you." She smiled down at Emma wistfully. "I'm so glad to see you're doing well."

Emma's brow furrowed, but she murmured, "Thanks," uncertain how else to respond.

Snow stood and walked over toward her friend, resting a hand gently on her back. "Thank you for coming, Aurora. And for all your help with locating that spell, we couldn't have found it without you. Are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer? Have dinner with us?"

Aurora shook her head. "No, I was just stopping down to say goodbye and I thought I'd help Granny on her way in here. I really must be going, I'm afraid."

Leaning forward, Snow spoke quietly. "You wouldn't rather wait 'til morning light? You know it's not safe out there with the ogres. They're not in your land yet, but—"

Aurora shifted away slightly, her smile becoming tighter. "We'll be alright, Snow. Thank you for your hospitality. It was truly a pleasure to see you again." She looked around the table, her smiled dropping completely when she looked to Regina.

"I'll walk you out," David stood, and Aurora slipped her hand into the crook of his arm as she was led out of the small dining room.

Granny stood behind Regina, and patted her shoulder. "I'll be back with yours in a minute," she said, before disappearing back into the kitchen as Snow took her seat again.

"So," Emma started, still trying to process the most recent visitor. "Sleeping Beauty?" Snow nodded. "And I know her?"

"It's a long story. But yes. She helped us. We helped her. She and Phillip were visiting for a few days. They just had a baby—a beautiful boy—and I've been begging them to visit. It feels like they've been avoiding me, actually." Her face darkened slightly before she blinked it off.

Granny came back out with a single plate, and set it down gently in front of Regina. The top was peppered with small red flakes. "Thank you," Regina said quietly, a small smile on her lips.

"How you can handle all that fire, girl," she muttered and walked away, back into the kitchen.

Emma started to cut into her meal with the side of her fork. "So I can't help but notice that this dining room is pretty small."

Regina looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "It seems that New York education is rubbing off on you," she smirked, taking a bite of her food.

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I _mean_, there are six places here. And a whole lot of people living here." She gestured vaguely around and added, "Plus this is a freaking castle. Shouldn't there be like a Great Hall or something?"

Regina narrowed her eyes. "How much time do you spend reading _Harry Potter_, dear?" Henry snorted.

"There is a larger dining hall, Emma." Snow answered, picking at her food with her fork. "We just prefer to eat in here." Regina opened her mouth, her eyes dark, but she shut it when she looked to Henry. Instead she pursed her lips and looked down at her own meal.

Emma was certain that wasn't the real reason—at least not exactly—but she let it go, instead digging in to her food and finding that, yes, she was rather hungry. This whole kid-being-right-thing was starting to get really annoying.

The table fell quiet as they ate, the door making an echoing thud as David walked back into the room. "Phillip sends his regards," he said evenly, taking his seat. "Though I'm not sure he meant it, the way their carriage flew away."

Snow nodded. "Aurora seemed rather jumpy herself this morning. Do you think they're worried about the ogres?"

"I'm not sure," David shook his head.

"Are ogres something we're going to have to worry about tomorrow?" Emma asked.

Snow looked at her, hard. "You're not coming with," she said absolutely.

"Snow," David pleaded, but she shook her head.

Emma looked around the table in surprise. "Uh, I'm not? I thought you wanted my help."

"We do, Emma," David said.

"And you gave it, by helping Regina. We can take it from here," Snow said assuredly. Emma was frustrated by the decisiveness in her tone, but she had to admit it was pretty impressive for her to have such determination—definitely not what she would have pictured from the fairy tale Snow.

David looked across the table. "Regina, you know you need her."

Sitting up straighter, Regina said smoothly, "Oh, now you want my help, shepherd? My, my," she clicked her tongue. He didn't back down, and after a beat her sense of superiority fell. Sighing, she looked to Snow. "It wouldn't be the worst idea, Snow. To have her along." Snow looked at her, betrayal on her face, but Regina ignored it. "While I'm tracking Merlin my magic will be indisposed, meaning that should anything happen it would be just you and those pointy sticks."

Snow's jaw clenched and Emma sat up in her chair. Enough of them discussing this like she wasn't here. "Look, I said I was going to help you find Merlin and I am. I get you two there safely, you can get me and Henry back safely. Got it?"

David smiled at her with something akin to pride, as did her son. Beside her, Regina watched her closely, eyebrows tilted up in gentle surprise, and Emma felt herself warm at the sight. Snow's anger dampened but didn't fade completely, and Emma sighed, resigning herself to being a disappointment. If she and Snow truly had been friends in Storybrooke, it wouldn't be the first time, she was sure.

"Now that that's settled, the ogres? Something to worry about?" Emma looked directly at Snow, waiting for her to push past this and accept that she knew what she was doing and, as an adult, would help anyone she damn well felt like.

"Somewhat," Snow answered, finally, taking a drink of water. "Where Regina feels the pull is toward the East, which is the direction of Aurora and Phillip's castle. Their kingdom has been ogre free, remarkably, so we should be safer that direction." She looked at Emma sternly. "But that doesn't mean we're safe."

"Hey, it's not like dangerous situations are new to me. I find bail jumpers for a living." Emma tried to lighten to heavy mood that had fallen on the table.

"Excuse me?"

Emma turned toward Regina and nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, didn't you know that's what I did?"

Regina sat very still, speaking slowly. "At one point, yes, but I thought I'd given you…some things to think about before you left." Shifting, she added, "It's not exactly the best job for a parent."

Emma watched her, confusion etched on her features. "Well, if you did I guess I don't remember; the curse and all? But it's not like I take the long assignments, or leave town or anything. Plus it's not like a lot of better jobs are looking for a high school dropout ex-con, or didn't you know that too?"

Jaw tightening in anger, Emma picked up a glass of water and drank from it slowly. This, _this_ is why she couldn't imagine being friends, much less family with a woman like Regina: judgmental, opinionated, and always right. She was exactly the type of person that drove Emma crazy as a kid, and it was no better now.

Familiar embarrassment stung at her from her own admission of her checkered past. Even though these people knew—must have known—what kind of teenager she'd been, it didn't make it any easier to talk about. Henry kicked at her foot under the table, and when she looked up at the quiet table, she found Regina's head down slightly as she quietly ate her food. Her lips were thinned, and her cheeks were lightly flushed.

Emma swallowed. So Regina regretted that? Good.

After a moment of watching the guilty expression, Emma started to feel bad herself, her cheeks now flushing at her own snap judgment. Clearing her throat, Emma asked, "How far to the mountains?"

Regina looked up, and said evenly, all traces of her guilt gone, "A day and a half or two, I believe. The most direct—and safest—route is to go through the forest, which means we'll have to travel on foot." Emma groaned at the thought. "I hope those boots are comfortable, Miss Swan."

"Can't you just poof us there? With magic? I thought teleportation was a thing," Emma pouted.

"It is a 'thing'. A very taxing thing, I might add," she said condescendingly. "Besides, I won't be able to use magic until we reach the wizard. Not only does poofing make it impossible to feel out the direction I should be traveling, but there's a chance it would disrupt the locator spell completely."

"So we're going to have to camp out and hunt and everything?" Henry's face opened in excitement.

Regina licked her bottom lip and looked at Emma for a moment. She opened her mouth to answer but Emma cut her off, saying, "No way, kid. Did you not hear about the ogres and wraiths and probably giant bugs that are out there? You're staying here."

Henry's face darkened and his lips curled down into a pout. "That's so not fair! I'm the whole reason we're here."

Emma laughed before she could stop herself. "You do not want to go down that road as something to help your case." At his crossed arms, she breathed out heavily. "Look, I'll get you some kind of Merlin souvenir, OK?"

Regina leaned forward. "Don't tease him," she bit out. "Henry, as much as I'd like for you to be able to come along, it truly is far too dangerous for you to join us."

"I'm not a little kid," he whined.

"No, you're not," Regina agreed, looking at Emma out of the corner of her eye. "But I'm certain your mother still feels as though you are _her_ little boy. So perhaps you could listen to her about this."

Henry continued to sulk, but didn't say another word, instead picking at the rest of his dinner. Regina eyed Emma, and Emma shot her a small grateful smile, though she tried to process the intensity with which Regina spoke. As though she cared about him just as Emma did herself.

Her plate almost empty, Emma asked her last question: "What are we gonna do if we find him? I mean, is he the type to just help out outta the goodness of his heart?"

Snow worried her lip. "Honestly, I'm not sure. He's not exactly the most social man." She shrugged a shoulder. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Emma hummed her approval, not exactly opposed to the idea of winging it—though she found it hard to believe the rest of her travel group wouldn't be. "Works for me."

Stomach full, Emma leaned back comfortably in her chair, and rested her hand on her stomach. Stifling a yawn, she was surprised to find herself tired again after such a long nap, though she supposed it could have something to do with the whole amateur-spell-casting thing.

"Are you tired, Emma?" Snow asked, sweetly.

Before she could answer she felt a second yawn coming on, and her hand flew to her mouth. "I guess so," she murmured.

"Why don't you go on upstairs? We'll have to leave pretty early tomorrow anyway." Emma wanted to refuse, to stay out and maybe try to pick up where she'd left off with Snow about her parents, but the mere thought of such a heavy topic left her feeling drained immediately.

Instead she nodded, and stood. "You coming, kid?"

Henry shook his head and pushed his empty plate away. "Nah. I think I'll go back to the library if it's OK?"

He looked around and settled on Regina, who smiled encouragingly. "Of course, Henry," she murmured. "Do," she cut herself off, looking around awkwardly before clearing her throat. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Shaking his head, Henry stood. "'Course not," he said. Emma stood and snagged him by the arm as he walked away, pulling him in for a tight hug and a kiss to the top of his head. He squirmed but laughed, as he whined, "Ma," against her shoulder.

"Don't stay up too late, kid," she said as she patted his back on the way out into the hall, Regina beside him. Turning to face the married couple at the table, Emma gestured over her shoulder with her thumb as she grabbed her jacket from the chair. "I guess I'll turn in, then. Thanks for dinner."

"Emma, wait," David stood, and held out his hand. "We'll walk you up," he offered, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Nodding, Emma allowed the company on the short walk, though she was a bit uncomfortable with the weird tension that lingered.

"You know you don't have to do this, Emma," Snow finally said. "You don't need to come with us. Regina and I, we'll be fine." The comment was surprising, considering it suggested that David would not be coming on the trip, something his very protective behavior didn't seem to fit with.

Shrugging it off, she shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't just sit around here, waiting for a ride home. I'd go crazy," she laughed. Sobering, she added, "Besides, I, um, I'd hate for you to get hurt." The admission was nothing, not revealing really at all, but it still felt as though she had laid herself bare by admitting that she may care about these people.

People, she reminded herself, that she'd only known for a day.

The thought was ridiculous, jarring, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry, I better get to sleep. See you in the morning," she said as she opened the door. Before she could walk in, Snow pulled her back into a crushing hug, and David followed, the familiar pressure of his hand on her head making her melt into the embrace.

Because even though it had only been a day, it certainly felt like _years_. When they both pulled back—Emma having allowed the hug to last for much longer than she'd realized—she hugged her arms to her body, sandwiching her leather jacket against her chest. "We were pretty close, in Storybrooke, weren't we?"

Though she'd been fighting it, Emma had to admit that all signs—as subjective and inconclusive as they may be—certainly pointed her toward the crazy stories of curses and Saviors and magical small towns as truth.

"We were a bit more than friends, Emma." Snow started, looking at David closely. "We were all actually roommates, too." She finished, and Emma felt tension she hadn't noticed fade away.

"Oh," she said. "Roommates? So the four of us—you two, me, and Henry—we all lived together? That's," she struggled for a positive word. "Cozy."

Snow laughed. "It was." Guilt darkened her face and she quickly added, "It was really nice, actually."

Another yawn caught in Emma's throat and she tilted her head toward her room. "I better crash if you want me to be able to walk all day tomorrow."

Snow and David nodded, and waved lightly as Emma walked away. "Good night, Emma," David said, and she shut the door.


	3. Ogre the Hills and Far Away

Despite her early turn-in, Emma woke poorly-rested and bleary.

And with a foot squarely in her back.

Groaning at the freakish strength in Henry's legs, Emma rolled away to the edge of the bed and dropped her head heavily to the pillow. Light was just starting to filter in through the window, and Emma pushed the hair away from her face, resting her palm on her forehead.

Despite her physical fatigue, Emma had been unable to fall asleep the night before, her mind running nonstop with thoughts of her parents, of her son, of the—still absolutely insane—situation she was in.

She'd finally started to drop off after hours of tossing, of thinking about everything over and over again, though she'd woken on and off through the night. Granted, that was mostly due to her son. First when he'd returned to the room, dropping something loudly to the floor and sliding it under the bed—books, she was guessing, the damn kid was a pack-rat—and then by the non-stop movement throughout the night. And the lovely series of bruises she was sure he gave her.

It wasn't new—she had ten years of cuddle-time-turned-sleepovers of experience—but it still drove her crazy, and left her in the not-so-splendid mood she was currently in.

Emma laid there for long minutes, sighing when Henry started to shift around once more. With a dramatic flip onto her other side, she faced him and started rubbing his back softly, a technique that had worked since he was a child.

It soothed him quickly, and his legs stopped flailing. With one last pat to his shoulder, Emma slid out of the bed, her feet freezing as they touched the cold floor. She rubbed at her eyes and picked up the toiletries and towel from the day before, and the clean set of clothes she was guessing Granny had dropped off sometime yesterday.

Opening the door carefully she crossed the hall to the bathroom, and set her things down on the counter before starting the shower.

As the room warmed with steam, she started to think again about all she had learned in the past day and a half. The thought that she was about to embark on some hero-quest to find Merlin was surreal, though no more so than anything else she'd experienced in the past 36 hours.

Namely, that her parents were from a different world—as was she, apparently—and that she was given magical abilities because of their love. That her parents gave her away in the hopes that she would have a better life, which she'd _love_ to tell them was a failure. That she had met them, been with them for two years, and had been _happy_ with them.

And that they were gone.

It was a thought she'd toyed with over the years. She knew the statistics for teen parents, for drug abusers, for runaways. She knew the likelihood of them falling into a category labeled "useless" and being lost because of it. Really, she'd been preparing for this result since she started searching. But it didn't make it any easier.

Part of her was relieved, happy, even, that she had some closure. Had something to put in own history to eliminate one more blank space. But the bigger part of her just felt lost and let-down. She'd been expecting an answer like this, something finite but dissatisfying; she knew enough of the world to know that if you wanted something as badly as she wanted this, that it would never be what you needed it to be.

She was a skeptic; a non-believer. But that didn't mean she wanted to be.

The shower before her was foggy from the steam, and she shook herself out of her thoughts as she stepped into the shower. The water was warm and instantly soothing, and she took a deep breath in as she tried to calm herself, tried to focus.

Because she had a mission, today. She was there for a reason, to help protect the people she was rapidly accepting as…well, _something_. She wasn't anywhere near ready to accept family, or even friends, but she was starting to think of them as hers, in a way.

The warm water coursed over her skin, and her stomach fluttered at the reminder of the day before, of magic and casting and Regina. How she'd finally found her control over her magic in thinking of the other woman, focusing on her. It was weird, right? She didn't know a lot about all this fantasy stuff—it was really more Henry's thing—but she'd gathered enough to know that something like this was important. That her being a focal point meant something.

Emma just wished she knew what.

* * *

Warmed from her shower and feeling marginally better, both physically and mentally, Emma emerged from the bathroom. The clothes she'd been given were similar to the previous ones: cotton pants, tunic, and vest, though this time the pants and vest were black, the tunic a dark grey.

When she walked back into her room, Henry was sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard with a book open in his lap. His head was tilted down but he seemed to be staring off instead of reading.

"Morning, kid," Emma said more brightly than she felt, and warmed when Henry looked up with a smile.

"Morning." He put the book down and stood up, shifting a bit. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, eyes narrowing as she tried to read the hesitancy in his voice. He was used to her having to leave him for work, but it usually wasn't long, and if it was he'd come with her. Something that wasn't an option in this case.

Guilt suddenly prickling along her back, she sat down, and pulled on a thick pair of socks before reaching for her boots. Taking a deep breath and trying to sound casual, Emma kept her eyes on her laces as she said, "You're good with this, right?"

When she glanced up, Henry was more relaxed, and he sat down on the bed next to her. "Yeah, ma. It's fine, really." Everything told her that he wasn't lying, that he really was OK with her doing this, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was making him uncomfortable and a bit nervous.

Reminding herself that Henry was a good kid, she shook it off and said—actually casual, this time—"Good. But you know you can tell me if it's not."

"Yeah, I do." He said, and stood up again. "Shouldn't you head downstairs to meet them? Get ready or whatever you have to do?"

Emma finished lacing her boots and stood, hands on her hips as she got the distinct impression he was trying to usher her out of the room. Narrowing her eyes a bit, she said, "I guess," and bent to pick up her jacket. Slipping it on, she pulled her still-damp hair out of the collar and let it fall heavily against her back to dry.

She glanced around the room, hesitating on her baby blanket still on her side of the bed, but decided to leave it where it was. It was hard, her most prized-possession so recently returned to her, but it made no sense to bring it along, and she'd be coming back for Henry anyway; it's not like she'd be leaving it behind forever.

Realizing there was nothing else she even had to grab, she pulled the door open and stood in the frame, looking at Henry. "You're not gonna see me off? I thought that was standard quest procedure?" she said with a playful pout.

Henry shook his head and picked up his own towel. "You go ahead. I'm gonna get dressed first. Granny said she'd have breakfast for you, anyway."

Emma shrugged and turned to leave, shutting the door behind her. The halls were quiet—she couldn't figure out how a full castle could be so still—as she walked down the stairs and neared the dining room.

The door was open a crack, and as she got close she could hear shouting.

"If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive you, David! She's risking her _life_, do you understand that? Our—"

"You risk your life _everyday_, Snow! Do you understand _that_?"

"I can't just let Regina go off on her own, and you know it," Snow's voice quieted, and Emma felt herself lean a bit closer to hear.

"And why the hell not?" David asked, his own voice softer. "It's her fault that you're—that all of us—are in danger, and you insist on helping her fix this."

Emma swallowed, uncomfortable to be eavesdropping but unable to walk away. David sounded furious, and Emma thought back to the interactions she'd seen between him and Regina the day before. They hadn't been friendly, to be sure. Icy was even a kind descriptor, and she suddenly wondered what had happened between them to cause this animosity? When they both clearly cared about Snow?

"It wasn't her fault, David, not like then. It was an acc—"

"I know what you think, Snow, but we've been here before." There was a pause, and Emma swallowed, taking a step closer to the gap in the door. From here she could see them, David standing close to his wife with his hands on her shoulders.

"You're too forgiving," he said softly, and Emma could barely hear. "I love that about you, truly, but," he sighed, and leaned closer to Snow, his voice dropping too low for her to hear any more.

As she bit her lip and put her hand on the door, she started to put a little pressure, to widen the gap. "I'm certain you know eavesdropping is rude, Miss Swan."

Emma jumped away from the door, turning to face a bemused Regina. "Christ, Regina!" Her hand flew to her chest and she breathed deeply.

Regina stood before her, smirking, and looking downright _evil_ dressed in black. Her skin-tight pants were tucked into knee-high boots—slightly heeled—and she wore a soft corset jacket over a scoop-neck shirt. Emma felt her mouth dry as she took in the details of the jacket: tight laces brought the bodice together beneath her breasts—the structure making the shirt pull over Regina's chest in a way that made Emma flush lightly—and the fabric cutting back toward her arms to curl up into a standing collar behind her neck.

The smirk Regina wore fell slightly as her eyes narrowed and she nodded toward the gap. "Hear anything good?" Her question was teasing, but she sounded legitimately interested. Was she aware they were talking about her? Or was she worried about something else?

Emma shook her head, regaining her focus. "Just that you and David have some issues, it sounds like," she said quickly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Regina flicked her hair—loose again—away from her face and quirked a brow. "Well, I hate to spoil your gossip, but that's not exactly breaking news." She crossed her arms and looked to the side, her face neutral save for the hard purse of her lips. Despite her words, Emma thought it still cut deep, whatever it was causing the problems between them.

Licking her lips, she winced a bit at the sore subject she had tossed at her so quickly. "So—"she bit the apology off, shaking her head. Whatever. Emma was pretty sure that if she could dish it out—and it certainly seemed that she could—that she could take it, too. "Heading in?" She asked instead, and gestured behind her vaguely.

"Obviously," Regina said silkily, and Emma felt her heart jump at the sound. Because, OK, that was a dumb question, but Regina didn't have to be so _obnoxious_ about it. She brushed past Emma and opened the door, her heeled boots clacking against the hard floor.

As she moved past, Emma's stomach fluttered as she caught a whiff of the darkly sweet scent lingering where Regina had walked past.

Nearing the couple, Regina spoke loudly, gesturing to the thick white wool vest Snow wore, belted together by a wide brown leather strap. "Ah, shepherd, I see you've found your flock."

David turned toward her with a glare, his jaw tight and lips thin. "Regina," Snow said warningly, her tone sharp and leaving no room for argument. Regina looked like she was going to respond for a moment, before she simply stiffened and walked past, to lean against the edge of the table.

"Emma," Snow said, sweetly, when Regina had cleared the sight line between them, and smiled warmly as she walked closer. Reaching for Emma's hand, she ducked her head slightly and stared up at Emma, wide-eyed. "I know you said you wanted to help, but I really think it's best if you stay here."

Emma pulled her hand back slowly and hooked her fingers into the belt at her waist. "Like I said yesterday, I can't just sit here," she said patiently.

Snow's face softened into a well-rehearsed pout as David stepped closer to her, his voice low as he started talking to her again. Emma walked around her to lean on the table beside Regina. "Is Henry coming down to see you off?" Regina asked, voice low.

Emma bobbed her head. "He's just getting dressed." Emma turned to look at her. "He's gonna be safe here, right? I mean, the spell thing will keep the wraith and the ogres and whatever else out?"

Swallowing deeply, Regina said, "He will be much safer here than he would be away from the castle. The barrier is not impenetrable," her lips curled, "but the wraith has never attacked when Snow and I were traveling."

"OK," Emma agreed, and let the subject drop. Despite Regina's assurances she was wary, and she didn't want to dwell if there was nothing else for her to do to protect him.

"Fresh muffins," Granny's voice barked out as she walked out of the kitchen door holding a basket. "Eat up, you've got a long walk ahead of you," she said to Emma.

"Thanks," she smiled, and reached in. Taking a bite, she chewed before she asked, "Should I be helping pack or something?"

Regina reached for the basket Granny had set between them, picking up her own breakfast. "No," she murmured, tearing off a small bite before popping it into her mouth smoothly. "We have packs ready, though I hope you're aware we'll be traveling light: bedroll, canteen, tent, and little else."

Emma shrugged. "I kinda figured. I've roughed it before, I'm not expecting some Four Seasons camping experience," she said a bit defensively. Regina softly hummed in response, and continued eating primly.

"Good morning," Henry said as he came in, hair wet and tousled from his shower.

"Good morning, Henry," Regina said evenly, setting her food down as she stood and walked closer to him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Thanks." She returned the gesture, clasping her hands in front of her as Emma snorted. "What?" he asked.

"You better have slept well, I have welts the size of a football from all your kicking," she mock-glared at him.

Granny walked into the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. "You lot ready to get going? I want you out before you lose daylight," she said gruffly, her eyes bright with concern.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Emma mumbled, sliding away from the table and stuffing the rest of the muffin in her mouth. Swallowing quickly she coughed a little as she followed the group out of the dining room and into the hallway.

At the gate they slowed, and Granny picked up three functional camping packs from a bench, handing one to Snow. "There's a little food, but be sure to catch something for dinner. You can't expect to find this fool while you're weak from hunger, you hear?" She looked pointedly at Snow who nodded, her cheeks flushing.

"Got it, Granny," she murmured, as the older woman passed another pack to Regina.

"Same to you, girl." She said succinctly, but held Regina's gaze for a long moment, her lip curling up the smallest bit as Regina took the pack. Regina was silent in reply, but nodded, and didn't flinch when Granny reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

Passing the last pack to Emma, Granny cleared her throat and took Emma by the arm, pulling her away from the others. While Snow and Regina pulled their packs on, and David and Henry talked quietly to each other, Granny leaned close and spoke low. "Be on guard out there, Emma. Our world is a scary place, and it's easy to lose sight of what you're really after."

Emma looked at her in confusion, but the woman continued. "You're heading out with the two strongest women I know, and you better believe they'll do anything they can to keep you safe. You gonna do the same?" She asked gruffly, a little accusatory.

Thinning her lips, Emma nodded. "I'll do my best," she offered.

Granny patted her arm and leaned back. "That's all I can ask. Trust your gut, girl, and you'll be fine." She started to walk back toward Snow and Regina, now watching the interaction curiously, but she turned back. "And don't let yourself get caught up in what you think you _should _do." Emma's brows furrowed at the statement, and Granny pulled her glasses down from where they rested low on her nose, falling against her chest on their chain. "Just some advice for life," she said, and walked back to the rest of the group.

Confused at the conversation, Emma followed slowly as she tugged her pack on, adjusting the light load by the straps. As she neared the others, she saw David standing beside Henry, a gentle hand on his shoulder as he laughed down at the young boy.

She was nervous to leave Henry behind, of course, but the connection between the two—and Granny's intensely protective nature—did a lot to soothe her worries.

"Sounds like a plan," he smiled down at Henry.

"What does?" Emma asked, cutting into their conversation.

"I asked Henry if he wanted to learn some more about sword fighting," David answered, squeezing Henry's shoulder. "But he's going to spend his morning in the library, apparently."

Emma ruffled his hair slightly. "Wouldn't you rather be outside, kid?"

Henry shrugged, his eyes downcast as he mumbled, "I like the quiet," defensively. Emma shrugged her shoulders and let it go.

"We should get going," Regina said, moving closer to the entrance. "The fairy brought the shield down a few minutes ago," she said distastefully.

"'K," Emma nodded, and looked down at Henry. "C'mere," she said in a slightly nasally whine. "I'm gonna miss you, kid. Be good, OK?" She pulled her son to her and he laughed lightly against her shoulder.

"I will," he murmured, and hugged her tight. When he pulled back, Snow reached over and cupped his cheek lightly, before giving him a gentle hug. Emma could see his shoulders tense lightly, but he brought his arms up and hugged her back.

"Henry," Regina walked toward him, her eyes bright as her lips parted. "I—" she stopped herself, looking at Snow out of the corner of her eye before lowering her voice. They were all too close, it did nothing to hide her words, but Emma found the instinct interesting. "I enjoyed seeing you."

Henry's face relaxed and he gave her a wide smile. "Same here. I wish I remembered you," he said lightly, but the words made Regina's face pale. "But it was fun, spending time with you. Thanks for everything," he leaned forward and hugged her gently.

Regina's face seemed to pale further at the same time her lips twisted into an almost-smile, and she pulled Henry tighter to her, her hands pressing firmly against his back.

When he finally pulled away, she gave him a watery smile and nodded. "Will you do me a favor?" He asked, leaning closer to her and lowering his voice as she had. "Will you take care of my mom?"

"Henry," Emma started, uncomfortable at the thought.

But Henry ignored her and continued. "She's strong, but…will you just make sure she's OK?"

Emma's face flushed in embarrassment, and she looked away, not meeting Regina's eyes. "I promise, Henry," she said tenderly, and stroked a hand over his hair, smoothing what Emma had ruffled earlier.

Satisfied, he nodded, and stepped back by Granny and David.

"Let's go," Snow said, and turned to leave.

Emma started to follow, but was stopped by David's hand on her back. "Emma," he said. When she turned to look at him, he slid the sheath from his belt, and handed it over to her, pommel of the sword gleaming in the sunlight. "Take this."

Licking her lips, Emma shifted and shook her head. "A sword? I don't, uh, really know what to do with one of those."

He shrugged, and held it out closer to her. "You're a natural, trust me."

After a moment of hesitation she took it, pulling at the belt on her waist to slip it on. The weight was unfamiliar on her hip, but pleasant, and truthfully did make her feel a bit more secure. Looking up she asked jokingly, "You don't have a gun instead, do you?"

David smiled wide and shook his head. "No, sorry kiddo," he said, before pulling her into one of the hugs she was quickly becoming used to. He pulled back and squeezed her shoulder. "You better be on your way. Be careful," he said.

Emma nodded and turned, smiling one more time at Henry before she walked past Snow to join Regina on the other side of the barrier.

"Do you even know how to use that, Miss Swan?" Regina asked acerbically, pointing at the sword on her hip.

"I guess we'll find out," she responded, holding her ground. The light of the barrier shimmered behind them, and Emma turned to find David and Snow sharing a long kiss goodbye on the other side. Without thinking, Emma's mouth turned down into a grimace, and she looked away from the sickly-sweet sight.

"It doesn't get less revolting," Regina said, her own face twisted with distaste. Emma suppressed a grin in response as Snow crossed the open barrier to join them.

"Let's go," Snow gestured ahead, and with a last glance back at the people seeing them off, they left.

* * *

As it turns out, the whole questing thing was way less exciting Emma had been expecting. Where the fantasy series Henry loved were all about ass-kicking and amazing discoveries, all this adventure had consisted of so far was about six hours of walking.

Hours she felt in her aching feet, but didn't show in the progress they were making, considering the mountain looked as far away at the castle as it did now.

The worst part, of course, was how mind-numbingly boring everything was. Since they'd left the castle, Snow and Regina had both been quieter than they had been since Emma arrived, and the uncomfortable silence—punctuated by terse replies and break requests—paired with the hair-tearing walk was starting to drive her mad.

Not that Emma was a fan of small talk, exactly, but with quiet a long road ahead of them, Emma would take it over the silent tension that was slowly suffocating her. Most of all, it was strange; the day before it had felt like they were itching to talk to her—though only Snow had been obvious about it—and now she was getting an almost cold shoulder.

"How much farther?" Emma asked, her voice loud over the quiet chirping and rustling leaves.

"We've been traveling for about half a day," Regina responded from her place ahead. "So, as it's a day and a half journey, how much farther do you think?"

Rolling her eyes, Emma adjusted the straps of her pack, its once-light weight now growing heavy in its constant pressure. She pressed her lips together tight, not responding, and looked over to Snow, who walked beside her. Her feet were steady, but her eyes were unseeing in their focus ahead. She seemed to be deep in thought, and Emma sighed heavily.

The action startled Snow, and she looked over at Emma. "Are you doing alright, Emma? Do you need to rest?" Her voice dripped with concern.

"No," Emma shook her head, her hand coming to rest on the pommel of the borrowed sword. "Thanks." Snow nodded, and before she could drift away again, Emma said, "I'm surprised David didn't push to come with us."

Snow's smile was tainted, a little guilty. "He did." She worried her lip. "He always does, actually. Every time Regina and I leave."

"How often is that?"

Snow shrugged vaguely. "It depends. We've been gone quite a bit recently, looking for the scroll. And maybe half a dozen times before we started searching for it, back when we were just trying to figure out where it had come from."

Emma's brows furrowed. "Where the wraith had come from?" Snow nodded. "Didn't you say you sent it here from Storybrooke?"

Snow licked her lips and lowered her voice, eying Regina up ahead by a few feet. "We did," she nodded. "But it didn't start to attack until about two months ago."

"How come?" Emma asked.

"We were never able to find out," Snow shrugged, shaking her head sadly. "And with the Ogre Wars and the wraith keeping us effectively trapped in the castle, we haven't exactly had the easiest time trying to find out."

"Wow," Emma breathed out.

"What?" Snow asked.

"It's just," Emma gestured around her. "All of this. This world. You said someone cursed you to Storybrooke, right? Well, I'm sure it had its drawbacks, but it kinda sounds like you traded up in location."

Snow's lips thinned, and she fell quiet for a long moment. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke louder, Regina slowing ahead of them until she was just a foot in front. "We did. I've come to learn that things weren't the easiest for people here before the curse. And maybe," she picked up her pace a bit, walking beside Regina. "Maybe I had a hard time seeing that."

Regina looked over at Snow out of the corner of her eye, shaking her hair back from her face. "We should rest," Regina said decisively, pointing at a stream just visible through the trees. Slipping her pack off her back, she led them over to the rocky edge, and set her bag down. "You two go catch us something while I start a fire." Her voice warranted no room for argument, and Emma shrugged, dropping her own bag beside Regina.

"I've never caught anything besides fish before," she warned.

Giving her a cruel smile, Regina said, "Don't sell yourself short, Miss Swan. I'm certain you've caught plenty of undesirable things in your lifetime." Emma glowered. "Now try not to poke yourself with that stick while you're gone."

"C'mon, Emma," Snow looked at Regina in disappointment and pulled the bow from its spot on her shoulder.

As they walked away, Emma asked quietly, "What's her deal? One minute she's looking at me like we used to be friends, and the next she's making me feel like an idiot." She grumbled the end of her sentence and pulled out the heavy sword she'd been given.

"That was sort of your thing, actually," Snow answered, pulling an arrow from her quiver and leading Emma through the trees and away from the stream.

"What, like frenemies?"

Snow bit back a smile. "In a way. You…challenged her. Didn't put up with her attitude." Emma snorted. Yeah, that sounded about right. "I think she misses it, to be honest."

"Yeah, well, I haven't challenged her since I got here, so whatever her issue is it's her own problem now."

Snow stilled, and her brow wrinkled in distress. "Emma, you should know that she lashes out like that when she's distressed."

Emma's anger faded a bit. "Because we were talking about the curse?"

"Partly."

Emma thought to all the times she'd lashed out in the exact same way when she'd been reminded of her own shitty past. Swallowing harshly, she asked, "It was bad for her?"

Snow brushed her long hair back, thinking over her response. Carefully, she answered, "She's lost as much as any of us."

* * *

Having a sword did virtually nothing to help you catch a rabbit in the woods. Emma didn't think she really needed to experience it to know that, but now she had first-hand proof.

Two skinned rabbits were now cooking over the fire, and were completely thanks to the only princess in their troupe. Emma was pretty sure she'd never live it down if Henry found out.

Regina stamped out the flames when the meat was cooked, and handed Emma a hot leg. Their meal was eaten in silence—everyone still uncomfortable from the conversation beforehand—and before Emma was ready they were packing up to leave once more.

The sun was still high in the sky, and Emma sipped from her canteen as Regina and Snow pulled on their packs. As they walked back into the thick forest, Emma fell into step with Regina, Snow walking just a few feet behind them.

Thinking of what Snow had said, Emma looked over at the other woman casually, and tried to determine if she had truly upset her. To be honest, she didn't look ruffled. Her face was unreadable, but it didn't exactly scream _hurt_, and Emma looked forward again.

They walked quietly, Emma trying to gauge her mood out of the corner of her eye, but found nothing but the occasional look of mild irritation. Emma clicked her tongue absent-mindedly, and smacked her hand against the sheath of the sword, trying to combat the monotony that was becoming the journey.

"_What_, Miss Swan?" Regina bit out suddenly, and Emma turned her head to look at her, startled. "You've been staring at me for nearly a half hour, spit it out."

Emma took a deep breath, thinking of what Snow had said, that she _challenged_ Regina, and decided there was no use tip-toeing around anything. "I'm sorry, you know." At Regina's expectant look, she continued. "If bringing up the curse upset you. I don't remember anything about it," she said defensively, and shrugged.

"I'm aware," she responded, flicking her hair away from her face in mild irritation. Emma dropped the subject, and looked forward. After a long pause, Regina looked at Emma with a small turn of her head, before sighing dramatically. "I know you meant no harm. I overreacted, I'm sorry."

Emma felt a tension she hadn't noticed ease from her shoulders, and a natural smile grace her lips. "No sweat." They fell into silence again before Emma asked, "What, uh, was the curse like?"

Tensing, Regina said succinctly, "It was cruel."

"Yeah, I mean I figured. But what did it do, exactly?"

Regina stopped suddenly, and turned to face Emma. "It ripped apart happy endings. It took everyone away from the ones they loved and made them forget that they ever had someone. They spent every day feeling _off_, passing by their families and feeling a connection that went nowhere." Snow had stopped walking as Regina talked, and stood a few feet away.

"Do you know what it's like to see the one thing you want most in the world and be unable to have it? To be _so close_ to happiness and fall short?" She was standing just inches in front of Emma, her voice cracking with emotion, eyes dark but bright with emotion, and her jaw was clenched tight in pain.

Her eyes darted between Emma's searching for something—recognition, maybe—and Emma opened her mouth to respond. "I—"

"It was cruel," she repeated, leaning away from Emma and pulling her arms toward her stomach, holding tightly. Regina gathered herself, and then began walking again, Snow eyeing Emma she left them behind.

Snow's presence suddenly felt intrusive, and Emma turned, taking quick steps to catch up to Regina. A part of her wanted to apologize again, but the larger part—the curious part—made her ask: "Who did it? And why?"

Regina didn't slow or stumble this time. Instead, she simply said, "The Evil Queen."

Emma's brows rose. "That seems a bit dramatic." At Regina's silence, she asked, "OK, so why did she do it?"

A humorless smirk graced her lips and she tilted her head fully toward Emma as she pushed a low branch out of her way. "Because she's evil, of course."

* * *

If she thought six hours of walking was bad, ten was getting to be _torture_. The sun was finally starting to set, and she was immensely grateful that they were traveling away from the bright rays; a headache had been slowly developing since lunch, and the sunlight would have only made it worse.

Regina had been a little more talkative since she'd apologized, but her reactions continued to be a mixed bag; she alternated between being cordial and making snide remarks to both her and Snow.

Snow, it seemed, was pretty used to such behavior, as she'd simply quirk a brow and look to Emma, before shrugging it off. Emma, on the other hand, found herself becoming more and more aggressive about her own responses; she'd never let anyone talk to her that way before, and she wasn't about to start now, forgotten family/friend or not.

Squeezing her eyes tight against the pain of her headache, Emma's foot caught, and she fell to her knees, wincing at the pain.

"Emma!" Snow gasped, and knelt down beside her. At the noise, Regina turned, too, her brow crinkling at the sight of Emma sprawled out on the ground.

"Are you alright?" She asked quickly, taking long steps toward her, and sinking to a crouch gracefully. Her hand shot out, but she pulled it back in an instant, resting it on her knee.

"Yeah," Emma smiled embarrassedly. "I just tripped. Loose root," she gestured to the ground.

Snow helped her up, and Emma blinked at the spots she saw. "Headache?" Regina asked, just a little gently.

Emma nodded, and looked up when Regina held her canteen out. "Are you out of water?" Emma nodded. "You're probably dehydrated," she said, in mild exasperation. "You should have said you needed a break."

Guiltily, Emma took the water and drank, feeling embarrassed to be called out by Regina. She hadn't wanted to slow them down, but she felt herself warm at the concern both women showed. After a lifetime time of being cast aside—and a decade of being the caretaker—it was nice to know that there were people that cared about her, even something so little.

"Thanks," Emma swallowed and handed the canteen back to Regina, who tucked it back into her bag. "I think I can—"

"_HELP_!" A voice shouted from deeper into the forest, and all three women turned to look at each other, wide-eyed and frozen in fear.

Because that shout sure sounded _a lot_ like her son.

"_Henry_," Emma and Regina said at the same time, before they turned toward the sound and ran, legs pumping furiously as they navigated twigs and branches and piles of leaves toward the sound.

Trees whipped past Emma, her chest pounding as she ran as fast as she possibly could until a loud growl stopped her dead in her tracks. "Oomph!" Regina slammed against her hard at her sudden stillness, and she hissed, "Why are you sto—"

Emma inched toward the edge of the trees that led to a small clearing, and Regina's question died on her lips as they saw what was happening: Henry, lying frozen in fear on the ground, and a large, disgusting, drooling mess—and ogre, Emma gathered—leaning over him.

Regina stepped forward to run around Emma toward the beast, but Snow held her back, whispering, "You can't use magic!"

Regina whipped around, snarling, "The hell I can't," in a dangerous voice. "To hell with this damn mission, he's in danger!" Snow shook her head again and pulled her bow up, reaching into her quiver for an arrow.

Emma felt as petrified as Henry looked in that moment, absolutely frozen in fear with no idea what to do to save him; if only she had her gun. Remembering the sword, she reached at her side, brandishing it, but having no clue how to fight the giant creature.

"Listen," Snow whispered. "I'm going to run over to that side. Distract him until I can get over there, and when I'm in position, I'll take the shot." Both women looked at her in terror, and she glanced between their faces, adding, "I won't miss," before darting through trees to get to the area she had planned.

"How do we distract him?" Regina asked frantically. "I have to use magic to—"

"Wait," Emma said, and walked out of the tree line and into the clearing. "Over here!" She shouted, and held the sword over her head with both hands.

"What are you doing?" Regina hissed. "Emma, you can't—" But Emma threw the sword toward him, and watched as it sunk into a meaty thigh.

The ogre looked down at the blade lodged a foot deep into its skin, and plucked it out effortlessly. It turned from Henry, allowing the boy to scramble backwards as the ogre stomped toward the tree line, mouth open as it growled.

"Emma!" Regina shouted, and ran out next to her, hands open in front of her body.

Before she could do anything, Snow shouted, "Hey!" from the other side of the clearing. When he turned toward the sound, Snow shot a single arrow directly into his eye.

With a groan he collapsed, narrowly missing Henry as the boy scooted away furiously. "Henry!" Emma shouted, running over to her son. Regina dropped down beside her and began running her hands over his arms, his face, his legs, checking for injuries. "Are you OK, kid?" At his nod, she looked around. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Henry was breathing heavily, but even so he managed to look sheepish, ducking his head a little. "Don't be mad, ma."

Letting out a deep breath, Emma collapsed onto her ass on the ground. "Jesus, Henry, you followed us? Don't you see how stupid that was? You could have been killed! Did you see that thing?"

"The important thing is that Henry's fine," Regina said, voice dripping with relief. She stared at him closely, and when he nodded she hugged him tightly before leaning back.

Emma held out her hand and stood, pulling Henry up as Snow joined them, wiping the arrow she had just pulled from the ogre on her boots. "Henry," she said in surprise. "What are you doing out here?"

"He followed us," Emma said, her voice thick with thinly veiled frustration.

"I wanted to help," he defended. Leaning down, he scooped up a bag that matched those of the rest of the group, something he'd no doubt snuck off with when no one was looking. _Damn his thieving genes_, she mused darkly.

Emma shook her head. "No way, kid, you've gotta go back. In case you haven't noticed this is no place for a kid." She gestured to the dead ogre behind them.

Henry stood up straighter. "But I'm already here! And it's hours back to the castle, it'd be safer if I just stayed with you."

Snow put the arrow back in the quiver and squeezed Henry's shoulder. "I think he's right, actually." Emma narrowed her eyes at the suggestion. "We're almost there, Emma. It'll be safer if we can simply find Merlin to send you home," she reasoned.

"See!" Henry gestured toward Snow.

Emma groaned. "Fine, kid. But you don't do anything crazy, you don't go all action-hero if anything like this happens again. And if I tell you to stay, you listen, got it?"

"He's not a Labrador, Miss Swan," Regina said dryly, but her eyes were smiling as she focused on Henry. She stared at him for a long moment, before running a hand over the back of his head. "That was very dangerous, Henry. And you _must_ listen to us, do you understand?"

Henry ducked his head guiltily. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry," he murmured.

Emma let her shoulders drop, helpless to the sweet face of her son, and nodded. "Good. That was really dumb, kid. I still love you," she pulled him to her side and dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head. "But that was really dumb." Looking up at the darkening sky, Emma asked, "Should we camp for the night?"

Regina looked around and nodded, clasping her hands together. "We should, yes. We'll walk a bit farther East, and then we should be far enough away from such beasts. That one is far closer to Aurora's kingdom than she made it sound." She noted, and turned to lead them toward the mountain once more.

After another half hour of walking—when Emma was ready to collapse—Regina stopped them, and gestured to a small patch of forest that looked to be relatively clear of rocks and sticks. "Here," she said. "We'll set up camp for the night." She crouched down and pulled a thick stack of fabric out of her bag, followed by several strands of heavy rope. "Henry? Will you help me with the tent?" She asked sweetly.

Smiling, Henry nodded, and dropped his own bag to the ground to assist her. Snow set her bag down beside them, and slid her hands into the back pockets of her pants. "Emma and I can go grab some firewood," she said, but Regina was already focused on explaining the set up to the preteen.

"Emma?" Snow prompted, and she followed her away from the campsite. They didn't go far—if she looked closely she could see Regina and Henry beyond the trees, and hear talking. Still, on-edge from finding her son so close to danger, it was hard to leave him behind. "He'll be fine, Emma," Snow said, as though she could read her thoughts.

With a small shake of her head Emma breathed out, "Yeah," and started to pick up sticks. Just as she had the day before, Emma knew that—that Henry was safe with Regina—but something niggled at her. Namely, the intensity of her care for Henry. It was caring—motherly, really. There was a connection between the two, one that Emma couldn't help but notice, and she cleared her throat to get Snow's attention.

When she looked up, Emma stilled, her arms full of thin sticks. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Snow said easily.

"Regina seems different, with Henry, right? She said she was a sort of family friend back in Storybrooke, but I just can't figure out why she's so_good_ with him, I guess." Snow worried her lip and turned her back to Emma, picking up useless twigs in her discomfort.

The action made Emma even more suspicious, but the pieces started to form together, in a way. The reference to clothes-sharing, the bond between Henry and Regina, the tension between the two, the care she seemed to have toward both of them, and—why deny it—the fact that the woman was drop dead gorgeous, but seemingly unattached.

Emma had only ever had serious relationships with men—as far as she knew—but she'd always been open to the idea of dating other genders, and she'd certainly been attracted to women before. The more she thought about the connection she had with Regina—their magic was a tangible example—the more she started to wonder if her relationship to the other woman was something romantic.

Just thinking it made her snap her mouth shut, and she murmured, "Nevermind," a flush staining her cheeks. Because the thought was appealing—surprisingly so—but it also didn't feel right. The pieces fit but they didn't at the same time, a realization that Emma found oddly disappointing.

Snow turned back—looking a bit guilty—and nodded. "OK. Let's get these back," she led the way, not making eye contact with Emma as she brushed past. "Can you start the fire?" She asked, back at the campsite. Emma looked over to the rapidly-rising tent, secure on two ends, the other held by Henry as Regina tied the third corner down.

Looking away from the two, Emma grimaced. "Unless you have a lighter, I doubt it." Snow smiled patiently and knelt down, arranging the sticks as Emma watched. She worked fast, an orderly pile forming as she added the last of the twigs.

Emma sat back, watching as she rolled a thin stick between her palms, and small flames flickered out. As she blew on them strategically, Emma leaned back, eyes wide. "Wow, how do you know how to do this stuff? I thought you were a princess or something."

Snow smirked as the flames grew, a warm fire emerging. Satisfied, she, too, leaned back, and looked to Emma. "Technically, I was—am, a queen." She licked her lips. "But I didn't exactly have a stable life when I was younger. I had to run away when I was about eighteen, to protect myself from someone that wanted to hurt me." She looked quickly over her shoulder, her voice lowering.

"Wow," Emma said. "I had no idea."

With a small shrug, Snow leaned back on her palms. "It was a long time ago. I was on the run for a few years. I was lucky to find some really good friends, but for a while it was rough. I was an outlaw, always looking over my shoulder, always waiting to be caught. I spent far too many nights camping out, I got good with a bow for a lot of reasons, and I got pretty tough."

Emma found herself leaning into Snow's words as she described a life she knew well. But it was the story between her words—one of fear and isolation—that really resonated with Emma. Connection with someone on such a personal topic was always something amazing, but connecting with someone you never thought would understand you, well, it was transformative.

Snow rose gracefully from the ground, and wiped off her pants. "I'm going to get some dinner. Watch the fire?" Emma nodded, and Snow walked back through the trees.

Emma wondered if her—the old her—had known about Snow's past when they became friends. Wondered if maybe that's why they had become friends. It certainly opened her eyes to the princess—though admittedly a badass one—that she had met earlier.

"It's probably better you tied them, then," Henry said with a laugh, as he and Regina came to sit beside Emma. "Hey, ma." He said cheerfully.

Closing one eye at him, she said, "Why are you so perky? Did I forget to tell you you're grounded when we get back home for that stunt you pulled?"

His shoulders immediately dropped and his lips pursed. "But I wanted to help," he whined, and looked down at his shoes.

Emma looked past him to Regina, and swallowed, remembering her previous thoughts about the woman. After Regina arched a brow at Emma's long look, she coughed awkwardly and asked, "Do you guys need any help with the tent?"

Regina looked over to the sleeping area slowly, and Emma followed. A lean-to tent was secured to two trees, and their bedrolls were spread out. "We managed well enough, Miss Swan," she said, her voice light and a bit teasing. Her mood had improved since earlier in the day, and Emma figured it was about time she threw in the towel on trying to figure her out.

"Right," Emma said, head bobbing.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. "Is your headache gone?"

It wasn't, but Emma figured there wasn't much she could do about it. "Yeah, I'm fine now."

Narrowing her eyes, Regina held out the canteen she had and tilted it toward her. "You're a terrible liar, Miss Swan. Drink, and I'll refill them in a moment."

Emma suppressed the urge to refuse the command, and took a long drink of water. "Thanks," she mumbled when she was finished, and handed it toward Henry. "You too, kid." He took the bottle but kept his eyes forward, still angry with her for the announced punishment.

"Where did Snow run off to?" Regina asked, looking around.

"Hunting," Emma replied.

"Henry," Regina turned toward him, "will you go grab the pack with our canteens and bread?" Henry smiled and nodded, jumping up to do the favor. Emma felt that familiar jealousy rile in her belly as he scored her attention for doing what a parent was supposed to, but fawned over Regina.

Regina watched Henry leave the campfire, and when he was almost to the tent, she turned her head back toward Emma. Licking her lips, she narrowed her eyes a bit and looked down, before saying evenly, "He adores you, you know." Looking back up at her she nodded, and gave a small but genuine smile. "I'm certain he knows what he did was foolish, but he can't admit that." Breathing slowly, she murmured, "I have no doubt things will return to normal between you in no time."

Crunching leaves broke the moment, and Regina looked up to Henry, reaching out to take the bags as she stood. "Thank you, Henry. I'll fill these and then be back," she said as she got up to leave.

Henry sat back down beside his mother, pulling his knees to his chest and staring into the flickering flames. Emma sat there, patiently, and let her tension start to ease; Henry was fine, they would find Merlin tomorrow, and she and her son could returned to their regularly scheduled lives in New York.

"I know I screwed up, ma. Really, I do. It just felt wrong to wait for you back at the castle, knowing I'm the one that got you into this mess in the first place."

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. "Oh, Henry," she started, and put her arm over his shoulder. "I wish I knew where you got that damn hero complex from," she laughed, and looked out to the fire with him.

"That's no mystery, you know," he said quietly, and Emma felt her chest constrict. It was touching in the same moment that it terrified her; it was hard enough being seen as a regular hero in your kid's eyes, but to be seen as a hero in a world where that literally meant fighting ogres and wraiths and who knew what else? Downright terrifying.

Trying to focus on something less frightening, Emma said, "So you and Regina seem to be getting along."

Henry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so," he sounded a bit wary. "She's cool. She knows a lot about this world, and she tells me stuff if I ask."

"That's nice of her," she said simply, and Henry nodded.

"Yeah, it is. I'm glad you were friends with her, back in Storybrooke." Henry hesitated, his face twisted with uncertainty. "I think that maybe I was, too. She seems to know a lot about me."

Emma nodded, filing that thought away, and the two fell into peaceful silence until Regina returned. She set down the canteens in front of Henry and Emma pointedly. As Henry took a drink of water, Regina reached into the bag with food, and pulled out a small loaf of bread and an apple. With an outstretched arm she offered the fruit, and Emma felt a weird sort of déjà-vu as she took it from her. Their fingers brushed together lightly, and Emma felt her cheeks warm pleasantly as she muttered her thanks.

As she took a bite, Snow walked back into the campsite and held up two small birds and another rabbit. "Hungry?"

* * *

Bellies full from the packed food and meat Snow had hunted—and cleaned, impressively—the group quieted, and fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence. After a bit, Henry yawned, and Emma looked at him pointedly. "Tired, kid?"

Henry ducked his head. "I was up pretty late last night, uh, plotting." Emma pursed her lips, trying not to laugh at the statement, and pointed behind her.

"Get to bed, then. We've got another half a day left, right?" She asked Snow and Regina, who confirmed her question with a nod.

Henry stood and started to walk toward the tent, but paused and leaned down to give Emma a one-armed hug. "G'night, ma."

"Good night, kid," she hugged back, and he looked between Snow and Regina.

"Good night," he said more shyly to them both, and Regina looked up at him, watched as he pulled away from Emma but turned to go directly toward the tent. "Good night, Henry," she said after him, and pulled her legs up toward her chest.

The three women sat quietly, watching as Henry tucked himself in. "It appears I was right—it took no time at all for things to be as they should with him," Regina said a little bitterly, and Emma prickled at the tone.

"Huh?" She looked to Snow for help, but she was simply watching Regina, a dark expression on her face.

"Henry," Regina said, looking forward. "It seems things between you are back to normal already."

Emma shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Is that, is there something wrong with that?" Regina remained silent, and Emma breathed out.

"Of course not," she finally answered, and stood, brushing the dirt from her pants aggressively. "Good night," she bit out, and didn't wait for a response before she walked away.

Sighing, Emma turned toward Snow. "Thanks for dinner," she said.

"You're welcome, Emma," she said easily. Despite the long day, Emma didn't feel quite ready to lay down, and so she sat in front of the fire beside Snow.

An owl hooted loudly above them, and Emma jumped slightly at the sound, a reminder that they were not the only ones in the forest. Shifting uncomfortably, Emma asked, "Do we have to worry about real forest things, like bears? I mean in addition to the ogres and the wraith."

"Not exactly, no. The presence of the ogres generally limits wildlife," she pursed her lips.

"Wow, that's a hell of a trade off," she murmured. Snow didn't disagree. "So, you never figured out why the wraith came after you when it did?" The story felt off, and she watched Snow closely.

"No, we didn't," she said with distress. "It just attacked one day."

"You guys said it goes after a target," Snow nodded. "How does it know who to attack?"

Biting her lip, Snow looked over at Regina and Henry, settling down into their bedrolls. "There's a mark."

Emma followed her gaze and raised her brows. "A mark? Like birthmark or something?"

Snow shook her head. "More like a, a _brand_." Emma shivered at the thought.

"Oh," Emma said breathlessly. Noticing that Snow's eyes hadn't strayed from the tent, Emma guessed, "And Regina has this mark?" Snow looked at her pointedly. "How did she get it?"

"Someone from our land did it, in Storybrooke. He and Regina had a _complicated_ relationship." Snow's hands gripped onto her kneecaps, tightly. "He marked her with a medallion, so that the wraith would suck out her soul."

"_Jesus_," Emma's eyes widened. She spun her head to look at the woman in question, but she was obscured by the tent and the bedding, and Emma swallowed hard.

Snow tucked her hair behind her ear as she licked her lips. "Each time it happens—when the wraith catches us off guard, her magic gets a little weaker." Looking down at her hands, Snow breathed slowly, her lashes brushing her full cheeks.

Emma shook her head in disbelief. Following the investigative trail, she asked, "So I'm assuming you've tried asking this guy where the wraith came from?"

"No," Snow said, sadly. "He died—well, sort of died—shortly before the curse sent us back here."

Emma snorted. "'Sort of died'? How does that work?"

"He's been missing. But we found an artifact, of his. Something important." Voice low, she said, "We think that he may be alive, but we haven't been able to find him. His son, girlfriend, and our friend, Ruby, have been looking for him for months, but have found nothing."

"Hmm," Emma looked toward the fire. "This medallion, do you know where it came from?"

Shaking her head, Snow hunched forward, closer to the fire as the air grew a bit colder. "No, I don't. Regina's been trying to find out more about it, but the only thing we've learned is that it belongs to The Dark One."

"Ugh," Emma said distastefully. "That seriously does not sound good."

"No," Snow said with a small laugh. "It's not." She wrung her hands together, and the ever-present gloves caught her attention.

Thinking back to the way Regina had brushed off her questions the day before, had taken off one glove, but left the other one on, Emma looked up in realization. "Is that why she wears her gloves? She's marked on her hand?"

Snow hesitated a moment, but finally nodded, and put her own hands down at her sides, away from Emma's sight. "Yes," she answered simply.

Still, that didn't explain Snow's own pair. "And you?" Emma asked, pointing vaguely at her.

After a long moment, Snow clasped her hands together in her lap, looking down. "I didn't say she was the only one that's been marked."

Emma didn't know what to do, how to respond to such an admission. Snow had basically told her she was sentenced to death, and even though Emma had gathered as much, it still sent a shiver up her spine to hear.

Instead of saying anything, Emma sat there, quiet, and listened to the fire crackle softly. She still had questions, still had pieces of the life they had told her she lost that were missing, but it all paled after an admission like that. She'd been cautious to begin with, afraid to find out what she'd forgotten—as she had quite a bit of experience finding out that things were usually better left unremembered—but the more she'd learned, the more she thirsted for answers.

"Emma," Snow's voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "I need to tell you something about your parents."

The thought struck fear in Emma; she was afraid to learn more, and terrified to lose her chance to do so. Thinning her lips, she turned to look at Snow in silent agreement.

"Please, hear me out," she started, and Emma's defenses prickled. "I know that it's difficult, but I need you to understand why they did what they did."

"You already told me. They sent me away because I was the Savior," she bit out. "Because they needed me to save them."

Snow looked taken aback and held her hands up. "That's not it, not completely. I told you, you would have been _stuck_ if they hadn't—"

"And I told you that at least we would have been together, Snow." Emma looked over at her, lost, and felt her anger deflate a little. "The fact is, they chose to send me away."

"They did it to give you your best chance, Emma."

"No, they did it because they were _scared_. The curse was a nice little excuse." Emma ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "I've been there, Snow. I was terrified when I found out I was pregnant with Henry, and I seriously thought about putting him up for adoption," she looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "I told myself it was for his best chance, but it was crap. I was in that system, I knew that he could have ended up just like me, OK? And I realized, that nothing was more important than him, that I loved him enough to make none of the rest of it matter."

Snow flushed, and her brows wrinkled in frustration. "Emma, it's not that simple. I know you know that, deep down," she looked at her pleadingly.

The argument was draining, and Emma looked at the open face of the woman before her. Her eyes were wide and wet, and Emma felt a pang of sympathy for her as she tried to be an ally to Emma while arguing for her own friends. "Maybe," Emma finally said, shaking her head.

Snow licked her lips, and leaned back. As the fire crackled, she asked slowly, "Do you really believe that your parents sent you away just to save them?"

"What else can I think?" she asked, her voice thick. Snow said nothing, just sat there, quietly, and Emma felt a wave of fatigue course over her body. "I'm going to," she gestured to the tent, and Snow nodded.

Her feet ached as she dragged herself over, and found Regina and Henry both asleep, eyes closed. Henry's face was gentle in his slumber, his cheeks still clinging to the last vestiges of baby fat that left him soft, young. His arm was curled under his head, and Regina lay facing him, her own hand curled protectively around his elbow.

The sight warmed Emma, and chased away the heaviness of her conversation with Snow. Loosening the laces to her boots just enough to be more comfortable, Emma knelt down next to her son and crawled into the bedroll.

The ground was hard, and the thin mattress did little to cushion her back as she flopped down to get comfortable. Emma breathed out, her body aching from the long walk and yet her mind keyed up from the events of the day—namely, almost losing her son—and the heavy talk just minutes earlier.

Huffing quietly, Emma tried to roll onto her side, her covers snagging under her and making her grumble. Satisfied with the new position, with her back to the others, she tried relaxing her body, and letting her mind settle.

It worked. Well, for about three minutes. Licking her lips and pushing her hair from her face, Emma breathed out heavily, and tried turning onto her other side, facing Henry's back. Her covers rumpled again, louder, as she realized they were tangled with her boots. "Would you rather I simply toss the bedroll into the stream?" Regina said dangerously, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

Emma stilled, and looked over Henry to find Regina, eyes still closed, laying as she had been when Emma first laid down. Licking her lips and feeling her cheeks flush a bit with embarrassment, Emma shook her head. "Sorry," she murmured. "The ground is hard."

Regina cracked one eye open. "You were expecting something different?" Rolling her eyes, Emma flopped back down on her back and stayed there, trying very hard not to move a muscle.

"I'm done. You can go back to sleep," Emma said, tucking her arm behind her head in one last movement.

"Not if you keep talking to me, Emma." A small thrill went up Emma's spine at the familiar name, something small that warmed her greatly coming from such a cold woman.

"Gotcha," she said, and smiled up at the sky when Regina shot back with a quiet _shush_.

Just as the air seemed to settle around them, Henry began to shift, his legs kicking out and connecting with Emma's shin _hard_.

"Geez, kid," she groaned, and was almost _positive_ she heard a muffled chuckle. Henry stilled, and she reached down to rub her leg. As she did, he moved again, and Emma rolled back to get away from the danger zone.

Eyes closed as she tried to stay relaxed, she reached for her son's back, and began rubbing soothing circles. As her fingers moved up toward his neck, she felt bare skin, and opened her eyes to see Regina's right hand rubbing the same circles on Henry's back, her glove discarded.

Looking over Henry's shoulder, she saw that Regina's eyes were closed, and she breathed evenly, as though she were still mostly asleep. But her movements continued, and Henry stilled again, tucking his head down and curling his body just a bit closer to Regina.

It was strange—the instinctual soothing Regina had done—and Emma's brow crinkled as she tried to figure out how she'd known to do that.

The light from the campsite went out, casting the campsite into further darkness, and Emma closed her eyes, forcing herself to try to sleep—to keep from talking to Snow about her parents again, at the very least.

As Snow started to crawl into her own bedroll, Emma felt herself start to drift off.

* * *

The sound of cheerful shouting woke Emma, and she opened her eyes only to slam them shut at the bright sunlight streaming through the trees. Groaning slightly, she tried again, preparing herself for the light as she blinked rapidly. Immediately she noticed that Henry was no longer by her side, but instead she was just inches from silky strands of Regina's hair, spread out over Henry's pillow.

Before she could panic at her son's absence he cheered again, and she raised her head slightly to see him standing beside Snow, a bow in his hand. Relieved, she dropped her body back down, and realized that she and Regina must have both shifted a bit onto Henry's bedding after he'd gotten up.

Emma breathed out, taking in the gentle curves of Regina's face, eyes still closed in sleep. Her hair was slightly mussed, fanned out around her, and a thick lock fell across her cheek, draping over her jaw. Her lips were parted, gentle puffs of air ghosting over to Emma as she breathed, and Emma swallowed deeply.

Regina shifted her head slightly, the lock of hair falling deeper over her face, and Emma pulled back a bit, suddenly feeling as though she were about to get caught. The idea was ridiculous—she wasn't doing anything—but strong, and she curled her fingers in towards her palms, only to freeze when she realized that Regina's bare hand lay flat on Henry's bed, her fingers splayed out, and Emma's own hand rested lightly atop it.

Licking her lips, she watched Regina carefully as she pulled her hand back. Their connection now broken, Regina's fingers spread out further, as though they were searching, and Emma sat up suddenly, surprised to find herself breathless.

"Emma?" a groggy voice asked, and she looked over to where Regina was pushing her hair back, and retreating back to her own bed. Emma turned back to look ahead, where she could see Snow gently guiding Henry's aim, and she pulled her arms around her waist.

"What is she doing?" Regina asked sharply, as she sat up beside Emma, and quickly began to pull her hair away from her face, and smooth it back into a French braid.

"I just woke up," Emma said quickly, and pushed her blanket down to begin tying her shoelaces. Once they were on, she began to roll up her bedding. Licking her lips and glancing at Regina every few seconds, she slung the roll onto her back and muttered, "We should probably get going, right?"

Regina secured her hair with a band, and furrowed her brows slightly as Emma walked away.

* * *

By noon, the mountain that had seemed hundreds of miles away, started to seem achievable. The trees were thinning around them, leaving more of the upcoming landscape in view, and Emma started to feel uncomfortable. Almost disappointed.

Which was ridiculous. Because Emma was ready—really, really ready—to be back home, to have her son safely off at school, or out with friends._Not_ complaining loudly about his aching feet beside her.

"Suck it up, kid," she said, thinning her lips. "You're the one that wanted to tag along on this adventure." He groaned but stayed silent—the unofficial surrender—and let his feet fall harder to the ground in a mature sort-of stomp.

"Do you need to rest?" Regina asked him with concern. Shrugging his shoulder a bit, he looked up at her with wide eyes and seemed to puff out his cheeks a bit.

"No, I think I'm OK," he said pitifully, and Emma narrowed her eyes as Regina squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. The little con! Puppy dog eyes had stopped working on her—mostly—about a year ago, but it seemed Regina was not immune.

Still, it was nice to see her—and Snow, though the latter had been much quieter today—being so considerate and protective of her son. The disappointed feeling settled in her stomach again, and she furrowed her brow, shrugging her pack on tighter as she pinpointed what her hesitation was: she didn't want to leave them.

It was stupid; Snow and Regina (and the others at the castle) were all but strangers, as far as she could prove. Despite the claims of family they had made—and she had gone with out of a lack of better explanation and, yeah, a bit of desperation—she had only truly known them for less than three days. She'd spent more time with some of her bail jumpers.

Still, as Regina announced that they were getting close—she could feel the locator spell surge with strength—Emma had to breathe deeply to combat the sudden sadness that had gripped her.

It wasn't much farther before the group passed the last tree of the forest, and stepped out of the cover to stand at the base of the mountain. Lush grass covered the sweeping hill that led up to a rockier mountain face, large stones and tree stumps littering the area surrounding a white rocky path that led straight up the mountain.

Emma felt her breath catch as she took it in, never having seen something in nature be so incredibly overwhelming. The path curved a hundred feet ahead, and disappeared along the side of the mountain, which, it appeared, extended high into the sky.

"Woah," Henry whispered, coming to stand between his mother and Regina. Looking up at her, he asked, "Is this the right place?"

Regina nodded, her chest moving deeply as she breathed in and closed her eyes. "Yes," she murmured before looking ahead and beginning up the rocky path. "It is."

* * *

They were at least twenty-five feet up the mountain when Regina stopped, holding her hand up in an order for the others to follow. "Regina?" Snow asked from the back of the line, behind Henry, but she received no response.

The path had led them up the mountain and around a small peak. Thick trees grew in the area, and the light was dimmer, the air cooler, hidden from most of the heat of the sun in the small valley. In front of them the path split; one route led straight ahead, deeper into the valley, and the other curved right, winding downward where it disappeared out of sight on the other side of the peak.

Finally, Regina murmured, "We're very close," and followed the curved path. Emma quickly followed her, trees whipping past as Regina walked faster and faster, nearly running over the rocky terrain.

"Regina, slow down," she said, breathing a bit heavier. Regina continued to navigate the rocks quickly, only to stop suddenly. "Oomph," Emma groaned, slamming into Regina's back before she leaned away.

In front of them was a small cave, the mouth forming a deep semi circle with stone formation like a column in the very center, a single torch lit and resting in a holder. To the right was smooth rock, covered in vines and moss. To the left was the shadowy entrance, and Emma gulped a little, seeing it in front of her.

Regina closed her eyes briefly in irritation and walked towards the opening of the cave. "It feels like this is it," she said warily, stepping forward to rest her palm on the column in the center of the curve.

Voice low, Emma couldn't help but ask, "Are there, you know, _bats_ in there?" Regina said nothing, simply pressed her hand against the stone and closed her eyes, concentrating. "Regina?" Emma prompted as Snow and Henry came to a stop beside her.

Regina leaned back, looking frantically over the cave. "This is it," she murmured to herself, and turned left towards the entrance. "Wait here," she said over her shoulder, and picked up the torch from the small holder on the column.

"Woah, you're not going in there alone, are you crazy?" Emma asked.

Regina gave her a skeptical look. "I suppose you're volunteering?"

"I mean, I guess so." She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and turned toward Henry. "Be back in a minute, kid."

Turning back toward Regina, Emma nodded, and walked to stand beside her. Raising a brow, Regina asked, teasingly, "Are you sure, dear? I thought you were worried about bats."

Emma gave her an unamused look and pulled her sword from the sheath before walking in a few feet, the light from the torch Regina carried barely illuminating the area. A noise echoed from deeper within the cave and Emma's step faltered almost imperceptibly. "OK, seriously, do you think there are bats in here?"

Before Regina could answer, the women made it through the narrow tunnel that had led from the mouth of the cave, and stood in a small, more open area; a completely _empty_ open area.

Regina walked forward, holding the torch out as she circled the walls, looking for something—another tunnel, a sign, anything. Emma shifted awkwardly, dropping her sword to let the tip dig into the sandy ground. "Well, at least—"

"If you mention bats one more time Miss Swan, I'll destroy you." With a small sigh she lowered her arm and walked toward the tunnel they had just come from.

Emma followed, and when they emerged back into the sunlight, Snow and Henry stood up straighter, expectantly. Regina remained silent as she put the torch back in place, and Emma shrugged, sheathing her sword.

"Regina?" Snow walked toward her, where she still stood facing the torch.

"It wasn't the left," Regina murmured, turning suddenly toward the mossy surface to her right. Pressing her hand against the rock, she closed her eyes. "It's here, it's behind here."

Snow's brow crinkled in confusion. "Regina, there's nothing there. It's just the mountain."

Shooting her a dangerous look, Regina repeated, "It's behind here." She slid her gloved hands over the smooth surface, brushing the moss and vines out of the way, and running her fingers over the uncovered edges.

With a grunt, she turned to look at Emma. "Help me," she demanded, and Emma walked forward, helping to clear the plant life.

Regina pushed and pulled at the stone. "I can't find anywhere to get a grip on this," she barked, frustrated.

Turning to Emma, she said, "We'll use magic."

"Regina," Emma started, brows quirking with hesitance. "If you use magic, won't it—"

"This is it, I don't need the spell." Looking at the solid rock in front of her, Emma hesitated. She couldn't imagine there was anything behind that rock except for more rock, and if they overrode the spell now, there was a chance they'd never find Merlin—that she'd never be able to get home.

Regina looked her square in the eye, turning her body slightly, and said, "This is _it_, Emma." She was certain, determined, and Emma swallowed deeply. It was a gamble, a big one, and she bit at the inside of her lip. Deep brown eyes stared at her with certainty, and she knew Regina was right. She believed her.

"OK," she nodded, and a relieved smile graced Regina's lips, warming Emma. "How do we do this?" she asked.

"Take my hand," Regina said, offering her a gloved palm. Emma could still picture her strong resolve as she turned toward the wall, could feel the intensity of her stare. Immediately Emma felt warmth blossom across her body, and she held her free hand up, mirroring Regina as she slid her hand away from the cave.

The large rock face began to move, the ground shaking with the effort, and Emma felt the warmth grow hotter with the exertion. With an opening two feet wide, Regina let go of Emma's hand, and Emma felt a small stab of disappointment at the loss of contact. She watched as Regina picked up the torch once more and turned to slip through the small space.

Following again, Emma did the same, only to be stopped by Regina's outstretched hand. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

Emma tilted her head and gestured forward with her chin. "C'mon, keep going." Regina waited for a long moment before she sighed, allowing Emma to follow her. Henry bumped into Emma's side as he trailed her, and soon Snow was the last one clearing the passageway.

The cave felt identical to the one they'd just been in, but, Emma noted, it seemed unnaturally bright for just a simple torch. The walls of the cave flickered from the flame, and Regina cleared the small tunnel that fed into a small open area, just as the other cave had.

This one, unlike its twin, was not empty.

"Merlin?" Emma asked, shocked at seeing yet another fictional character crop up in her reality. Only, this man looked nothing like what she expected.

Standing in the center of the cave was a tall, thin man. His shoulders were rounded from poor posture, his clothes hung limply from his body, and his eyes were dark and sunken in, leaving big bags beneath them on his too-pale skin. The long white hair Emma had been anticipating was, instead, greasy and brown, and his hairline started too far back on his head. Most notably, the trademark white beard was absent, and just a few patchy tufts graced his jaw line, uneven and ill-cared for.

At the sound of Emma's voice Merlin smiled, further revealing a crooked, yellow row of teeth. Emma suppressed a shiver, and pulled Henry closer to her from where he stood at her side.

"Merlin?" Snow stepped forward, smiling at the wizard, and extending a hand. "I'm Snow." Emma caught the sight of Regina stiffening beside her. "We've been looking for you. You're a very hard man to find," she said with an uncomfortable laugh as Merlin eyed her.

Slowly, he took her hand. "Snow," he rolled her name around in his mouth, before smiling widely at her, baring his teeth. "Pleased to meet you," he said, dipping down in a small bow, "my Queen." When he stood back up he dropped her hand, and looked down at the dusty tunic he wore. "Pardon me, I wasn't expecting guests," he said with a small laugh that was just a bit shrill.

He brushed his hand down the front of his shirt and jacket, and dirt filled the air around them, making Emma cough. With a grimace she covered her mouth, and shifted uncomfortably.

Snow stepped back a bit toward Emma, and asked, "You know who I am?"

A sly smiled twisted his lips, and he nodded. "But of course, your Majesty." His eyes flickered around the rest of the group lingering on Regina, and Emma felt herself take a small step closer to the woman. "In fact," he said, "I know why you're here."

Eyes narrowing, Emma asked, "Oh yeah? And how do you know that?"

Merlin looked to her, and took a large step closer to her, his actions jerky and sudden, making her press her lips together and pull Henry closer to her side. "Clairvoyance, Emma." He winked at her, and her heart jumped. "It comes with the territory," he held a hand up and small fireworks emerged from his palm in a brilliant display.

"You know my name," she said.

Merlin looked at her, eyes wide, and said, "Oh, and then some." He reached out, bony fingers reaching for a lock of hair. "I must say, it's not every day you meet the Savior."

"You know why we're here?" Regina cut in, leaning over to draw Merlin's attention. "And why is that?"

Merlin dropped Emma's hair and walked away, back into the center of the room and tucked his hands behind his back. "Because you need my help, of course."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Brilliant deduction," she bit out.

"Regina," Snow warned, and walked back into Merlin's sight line. "We were wondering if you'd be able to send someone to another world? To create a portal," she shrugged hopefully.

Merlin stared at her for a long moment. "Someone?" Snow shifted, but remained silent. "I assume you mean Miss Swan, and her son Henry."

Every alarm bell in Emma's mind went off, and she was sure Henry would have a bruise from the grip she had on his shoulder.

"Or, perhaps you wish to send the wraith to yet another world? It worked last time, did it not?"

Snow eyed him warily. "How did you know that?" she asked.

Merlin's brows rose, and he tapped his head. "Clairvoyance." Walking closer to Regina and Emma, he murmured, "She's not the brightest queen in the castle, now is she?"

Regina's lips pressed together tightly. "Can you do it, or not, wizard?" She asked brusquely.

"My my," he _tskd_, and shook his head. "I can see where the name comes from," he smirked, and Regina's face paled slightly. "I mean Regina, of course." He tilted his head. "It means 'queen' if I'm not mistaken."

Regina licked her lips, but otherwise kept her face impassive. After a long moment, he tossed up his hands. "Oh alright, yes I can do it."

Eyes wide, Emma gaped. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just a snap of my fingers," he bragged.

"Well, that's wonderful, Emma," Snow smiled tightly, and walked over to squeeze her forearm.

"Of course," Merlin held up a finger, "there is a small problem."

Emma's stomach dropped. "What is it?"

Merlin looked up at the ceiling of the cave. "Perhaps you haven't noticed," he looked back at her condescendingly. "But I'm a bit trapped, at the moment."

"We opened the cave," Emma said, gesturing back toward the entrance. "It's how we got in."

"Yes," Merlin nodded, "impressive. But ultimately unhelpful. This cave will stay open for ten minutes—not a second more—and I will be unable to pass that rock. Others have visited before you and each time it was the same." He leaned an arm against the wall of the cave, sighing heavily and looking much younger as he rested his weight on the arm. "So, alas, I am stuck here." He turned his head toward the others. "And as long as I'm in this cave, no portal to home sweet home.

"And no stopping the wraith, for that matter," he added with a shrug as he pushed himself away from the wall.

Henry stepped forward a bit, and narrowed his eyes. "But you just used magic," he argued.

Leaning down until Merlin was face to face with the boy, he held up his hand and the fireworks burst again. "This? This is nothing more than a light show, my boy. An illusion."

Regina stepped forward, and held up a hand. "If we free you, you promise to create a portal? And stop the wraith?" She eyed him evenly as he stood up straight again.

Merlin closed one eye, tilting his head as he looked at the raised left hand. Before Regina could pull it back he grabbed her wrist, pulling the glove off. Emma couldn't stop the gasp that fell from her lips at the sight of Regina's bare palm, the skin burnt badly, as if she had been branded over and over. The symbol wasn't familiar, but it was large, and spanned the entirety of her palm.

Emma turned her head to look at Snow, who cradled her own wrist in sympathy.

Snatching her glove back, Regina tugged it on as Merlin laughed cruelly. "So will you?" she bit out.

"Yes, I believe that's a fair trade. You get me out, and I will send Emma, Henry, and whoever else you wish back to your world, _and_ take care of the wraith." Putting a finger to his lips, he added, "My, that's quite the bargain."

Ignoring the quip, Regina asked, "How do we get you out?"

"This really makes my offer a steal, you know, giving you the answers," he prefaced. "I was sealed in by magic, and only the most powerful of weapons can shatter the lock that keeps me here." Looking around the room, his voice lost its lightness, and he said, seriously. "When I was just an apprentice, I forged two swords: the Twin Blades. They were powerful on their own, but combined they could cut through the most impenetrable barrier like it was butter. It could stop any spell, wound any enemy.

"So I had to split them, to protect everyone from their power." The borderline mad-man that had greeted them was gone, and an intense look fell over his face as he said, "I separated them. One, I embedded deep into a stone, just outside of Camelot. The other, I sank to the bottom of a bottomless lake." He walked closer to Emma, and said softly, "Find the blades, and they will break the lock."

Regina leaned forward. "And how are we supposed to retrieve these Blades if they're so confined?"

Merlin's seriousness fled, and he smiled at her, wide. "An important question," he replied, but said nothing else.

The cave began to shake, and Emma turned quickly to see the heavy stone face sliding back to cover the entrance. "I believe that is your cue," he said loudly, talking over the rumbling of the rock.

Snow turned, and pushed Henry ahead of her as she ushered him out of the cave. Emma turned, too, but noticed that Regina was still eying Merlin carefully. "Regina, we gotta go," she said, and Regina gritted her jaw, but started to leave.

Emma slid through with just a foot of space left and stuck her hand out to pull Regina through as well. As her fingers curled around her palm, she tugged, and she slid through just before the stone slammed back into place.

The four stood silently, breathing a bit heavily from the adrenaline as they looked around at each other. Licking her lips, Emma put her hands on her hips and asked, "So, which way to Camelot?"


	4. A Peace, Of the Past

Warnings: passing reference to sexual assault and child abuse in this chapter.

* * *

Camelot was—according to Snow—relatively near; on the other side of the mountain, and a half day's journey past, in fact. The mountain was large—and getting around the wide face would take all of their light—but it was still achievable; a bump in their road, not a block.

As they moved away from Merlin's cave, Emma slipped her hands into her pockets, taking a moment to adjust to the realization that she would not be getting home as soon as she had thought. Being trapped in this world still worried her, made her itchy with the near-constant fear. But as she watched Snow pull her canteen out of her bag and take a drink, and Regina lightly rest a hand on Henry's back, she felt her anxiety ease a bit.

"So, what do we do now?" Henry asked, looking around. "We go find the first sword?"

Snow looked over at Emma uncomfortably. "Henry, I think we'd better take you back to the castle. I'm sure David's been wondering where you went." Emma warmed at the thought of Snow thinking of Henry, but she wasn't sure that was the right call. After all, he'd managed to sneak out on his sitters there once, already.

Henry looked around, shaking his head. "No way! We're almost there, right? It'd take days to get me back and then retrace your steps," he argued. "And I left a note," he grumbled.

Regina slid her hand over Henry's shoulder and added, "Not to mention the fact that your idiot husband lost track of him within the first few hours of Henry being placed in his care."

"Besides, won't I be safer here with you anyway? Where you can protect me with magic?" He looked between Emma and Regina, arms crossed defiantly.

Emma hesitated, unsure about the right call. It was dangerous out here, but there was no guarantee the barrier would hold at the castle anyway. And, as he'd mentioned, they had magic to protect him, here.

"Fine," Emma said after a moment. "The sooner we can find these things, the sooner I get him home, away from all of this crap, right?" Ignoring Henry's triumphant grin, she looked over at Snow. "Lead the way."

* * *

Walking around a mountain, Emma noted, was much easier said than done. The stone paths had decayed over the years, leaving uneven foot paths in very open areas, and the altitude was starting to make Emma nervous every time she looked down over the side, now a good fifty feet up. Heights were definitely _not_ her thing.

Swallowing, she shifted closer to the solid wall to her left, and fell into step right behind Regina.

"Hey," Emma started, and Regina raised a brow as she looked over her shoulder.

"Hey," she tossed back, and Emma felt herself flush a bit at her awkward greeting.

"Do you have any idea _why_ Merlin was locked up?" Watching her steps carefully, she navigated a rocky portion of the trail. "I mean, a powerful guy like that isn't imprisoned for no reason, right?"

"Mmmm," Regina agreed vaguely.

"So, I mean, is this a good idea? Freeing him?"

"It is," Snow said from behind her, holding out a hand to help Henry over a particularly large crack in the path. "When I was younger I met Lancelot," her voice cracked a bit, "and he became a good friend of mine. He told me Merlin was one of King Arthur's most trusted allies."

"Yeah, ma," Henry agreed. "Merlin is one of the good guys. He wasn't trapped 'cause he was bad. I think he got tricked by his student, after he taught her magic."

Emma quieted, accepting their answers. After all, she knew the least about this world, right? As Regina walked ahead of her, she caught sight of the tight lips and clenched jaw, and wondered if maybe she wasn't the only one to still have her doubts.

"There," Snow breathed out, as the path widened into a large plateau. Coming to a stop beside Emma, Snow pointed out ahead, to where a large stone castle stood, surrounded by smaller buildings. "That's Camelot, over there." The castle rested on a small hill, past miles of forest.

Grimacing at how far away it was, Emma's lips turned down as she said, "It'll take us way longer than you said to get over there."

Snow walked to the beginning of a new path, this one sloping downward, and shook her head. "There's a small village at the base of the mountain. We can get some horses, and make it there much faster," she answered, and began to lead them down the trail.

* * *

The path up and around the peak had not been easy, but Emma was unprepared for the difficulty of navigating the steep declines, especially as night had almost fallen. With little light, Emma was forced to feel around, her palms becoming calloused from the constant friction of the stone face beside her.

She stumbled more than once on the loose rock beneath her feet, the cooling night air making it worse as her muscles tensed slightly beneath her jacket.

"You doing OK, kid?" Emma asked, squinting over her shoulder at her son.

"Yeah," he said with a little effort, as he used the wall for balance as well.

They were close to the base of the mountain now, just ten feet up, and she could see bare ground not too far ahead. Light was coming from about a half mile ahead, the firelight of torches peeking between the trees that separated them from the village.

Emma turned to look over her shoulder again, and saw Henry starting to fall behind. "Here, kid," Emma said, and held out a hand to guide him in front of her, a few feet behind Regina.

"Thanks," he smiled, and focused on moving in the near-dark. Regina stilled as they switched places, and looked over his head to Emma. Unable to read her face in the low light, Emma simply nodded, and smiled when Regina did the same, a silent agreement to watch Henry passing between them.

"Just a bit farther," Snow said, brushing the branches that grew over the sides of the path out of her way. The farther they walked down the path, the more it disintegrated, until it faded completely away, leaving nothing but rocky terrain and patchy grass ahead.

As Snow neared the edge of a clear area, just eight or so feet off the ground, she knelt down, and sat on the edge. Sliding herself off, she landed roughly on the hard dirt, and groaned as she stood up, brushing off her pants. "Come on," Snow said quietly, gesturing for the others to follow.

Emma looked over the side of the path, and winced a little. "From up here?"

Regina looked over at her and smirked. "The Savior is afraid of a little drop?"

Emma thinned her lips and sat down, sliding her long legs over. Swallowing deeply, she took a deep breath and slid off, landing hard on her ankle. Closing her eyes and breathing through her nose, she stood up, favoring her other leg as she rolled it experimentally. Twisted, then, but not sprained.

She slowly eased pressure on it as she walked directly below the side, and held her hands out. "Henry?" She asked, and the boy seemed to hesitate a moment before sitting on the edge of the ledge.

Regina knelt down behind him, putting her hand up to hover over his back protectively as she furrowed her brows in concern and said, "Careful." Emma reached up, helping to guide him down gently, and with a small _oomph_ he was standing on the ground.

Gracefully, Regina sat down as the others had, and let her legs hang from the edge. She paused a moment, and Emma looked up at her, smirking, before reaching out her hands. "Scared?" she teased, and Regina's eyes narrowed.

"Please," she scoffed, but let Emma rest her hands on her knees. As she slid down, Emma's hands ghosted up her thighs to rest on her hips, and as Regina landed softly, she stumbled a bit. Emma's hands slid up to rest on her waist, the fabric of her jacket molding to her curves.

Emma stilled as Regina took a small step toward her, settling on her feet. She was close—impossibly close, actually—and Emma felt her breath catch in her throat. Regina looked at her in surprise, her mouth parting as her hands settled on Emma's wrists. Emma's eyes fell to the scar above Regina's lip, before she looked up to meet her eyes again.

Suddenly, Regina pushed at Emma's hands until they fell from her slim waist, and she cleared her throat, stepping back and flicking at a few strands of hair that had fallen from her braid. "If you're quite done manhandling me, Miss Swan, we should find a place to rest for the night."

Regina brushed past her, running her hands down the front of her jacket and tucking her hair back into the braid as she walked away. A little dumbfounded at the reaction, Emma turned towards Snow, who was watching her closely, an unreadable expression on her face.

Uncomfortable, Emma cleared her throat and gestured toward the woman walking away. "Um, I suppose we should," she trailed off, shaking her head a bit to focus as she walked toward the village.

As she walked, pushing low braches away from her face, she felt the cool night air on her cheeks, and realized they were still a little flushed. She watched Regina ahead of her, moving gracefully beneath the trees, but her movements were harsh and aggressive as she brushed branches aside.

Emma's fingers tingled as she thought about the smooth fabric that had been so tight against her skin, the way her waist curved in slightly, and the gentle dip of the back she had barely touched. But even more distracting was the way Regina had looked at her: intense eyes, slightly hooded, as shallow breaths passed her lips to mingle with her own.

Her cheeks were warming again, and she licked her lips, pushing the thoughts aside. It was nothing, the culmination of the long day, and the lingering connection from their combined magic at the cave. She blinked a few times, refocusing just as Regina stepped through the trees and into a small village. There were very few buildings: a few houses, a blacksmith's, a barn, tavern, and above it—she sighed—what looked to be an inn.

Regina turned, and held out a hand to point to the inn. "We'll see if they have a room, stay tonight, and then head to Camelot in the morning." Emma nodded, smiling down at Henry as he came to stand by her side.

Resting her arm on his shoulder, they walked toward the inn. With a wince she realized how loud it was as she neared, raucous laughter penetrating through the wooden doors of the tavern to drift into the street.

"Keep him close, Emma," Regina said quickly, and pulled open the door. The group followed her to the counter of the bar, standing strongly and demanding the bartender's attention. Looking up at her, finally, he walked over to Regina and eyed her warily.

"What'll it be?"

Regina reached toward her hip, pulling out six gold coins and sliding them out onto the table. "We need two rooms for the night."

The bartender eyed her carefully, before looking around at the rest of the group. After a moment, he leaned an arm on the counter and shook his head. "It's eight."

Regina's eyes narrowed, and she tightened her jaw. Emma saw her clench her fingers into a fist before reaching back into the bag and pulling out two more. The bartender slid the coins into his hand, and Regina pursed her lips, holding out a hand. "The keys?"

He reached below the counter and dropped a heavy key into her palm. "We only got one," he said gruffly, and Regina's eyes lit in fury.

"_Eight_ coins for a single room?" Her lip curled up baring her teeth dangerously, but he remained unmoved.

Snow slid in beside her and gently rested her palm on Regina's forearm. "It's just money, let's go."

Jerking her arm away from the other woman she glared again at the man behind the bar, who continued to eye the group unimpressed.

Regina's anger resonated with Emma, and she found herself grinding her teeth as she ushered her son up the stairs toward the inn rooms. The man's behavior was familiar; how he'd eyed them all, determining them to be easy targets, people he could easily take advantage of.

Emma felt the upset, but Regina seemed to be truly shaken by the interaction, and it was a bit strange. Unlocking the door, Regina opened their room and stepped inside, followed by the rest of their party.

The room wasn't horrible—was actually much better than Emma had anticipated—with two double beds and clean-looking bedding. The space was small, however, and as she shut the door behind her, she found herself standing much too close to Regina, who still radiated anger.

Slipping her pack off of her back—_finally_—she rolled her shoulders, and stretched out her arms. With a sigh she unzipped her jacket, leaving her in just the tunic and vest, and she shook out her hair behind her.

As she moved she caught sight of Regina watching her as she slid her own bag off of her shoulders, and set it down beside one of the beds. Dropping her own, Emma sat down on one of the beds, Henry flopping down next to her.

"Can we get something to eat," he asked. "I'm starving."

Her own stomach having been roiling for the past few hours, Emma nodded, and leaned back on her hands. "Me too, kid. Should we go downstairs before it gets much louder?" As if on cue, a large cheer erupted from below.

"That sounds good," Snow said, pulling her thick vest off of her back and laying it down on the bed. She walked to the door and Henry followed, Emma right behind.

Regina seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, as she stared down at her palms. "Regina?" Emma prompted, and she curled her fingers into fists, before setting them by her side. Turning, she looked at her questioningly. "Dinner?"

Her jaw clenched again, like she didn't want to go back down there. But a small rumble coming from her stomach made her blush prettily, and she nodded. "I suppose so."

They filed back out into the hallway, and down the stairs to join the loud dining area. The entire floor was open, with tables strewn around, and several stools at the bar they'd gone to when they bought the room.

The open space did nothing to quiet the noise from the tavern, and a small band that played in the corner only made it worse. Wincing a bit at the volume, Emma led them over to a far table near the corner of the room.

The table was small and round, with two tablecloths draped together to cover the surface. In the middle sat a small lantern, casting their faces with an orange glow as they sat down. Emma leaned back in her chair, her back aching from their long journey, and she bit back a moan as she closed her eyes.

Sighing, she opened them, and asked, "So, what kind of food should I expect in this world? Nothing too gross, right?" Her lips turned down into a worried pout.

"No," Snow shook her head, smiling fondly. "I'm sure it'll be much tamer than you're imagining." Before Emma could ask more, a waitress—or whatever the hell they were called more officially—walked by the table, empty tray in hand. "Excuse me?" Snow asked loudly, and the girl turned, walking to their table.

She looked at them expectantly, and Snow smiled at her pleasantly. "Could we get some stew? And wine," she added.

"Milk for him," Regina interjected, pointing at Henry. The girl nodded, and walked away without another word.

"That was a bit rude," Snow frowned.

"You forget, Snow," Regina angled her body to face her at her side, "that not everyone recognizes you as their Queen." She smirked. "Or even royalty."

"Perhaps you've forgotten, _Regina_, that I spent years being neither," she shot back, and Regina's smile faded. Snow's words were pointed, much harsher than she'd been toward the other woman since Emma had arrived, and it was a bit odd.

Henry shifted in his seat, and said, "Do you know where the stone is for the first sword?"

Emma looked around quickly, feeling like this might be more of a delicate subject, and Henry took the hint, blushing and lowering his voice. "Sorry. Do you though?" He asked both Snow and Regina.

"No, I'm afraid I don't, Henry," she said regretfully. Looking a bit nostalgic, she said, "I knew that it had been returned to Camelot shortly after King Arthur's death years ago." She looked down at the table. "And I remember Lancelot telling me that it had been put back 'where it belonged', which I suppose was the stone Merlin mentioned." She shook her head. "But I don't think I ever knew where the rock was."

The table quieted as their food was brought out: four bowls of stew, a large loaf of bread, and a carafe of wine. Regina dismissed their server with a raised eyebrow, and began to fill her glass before she passed it to Emma who sat to her left.

Henry took a drink of his milk, making a face at the consistency, and began to dig into his bowl of stew. The others did the same, their rumbling stomachs making for little conversation, and before she realized it, Emma was to the bottom of her bowl.

She leaned back in her chair, her belly full and the—admittedly kind of gross—wine starting to calm her. Looking around the table, she smiled at Henry, as he dragged a piece of bread across the bottom of the bowl to get the last bit of soup.

Regina reached for her glass, and took a sip of her own wine, delicately wiping at her lip as she set it back down. The room was still loud—louder, even, if that was possible—but Emma felt it fade out a bit as she tilted her head, watching Regina as she smiled playfully at Henry across from her.

Overhead chandeliers supplied the bulk of the candlelight in the room, but as they burned down, the glow coming off of the lantern cast larger shadows. From her seat, Emma could see Regina mostly in profile, her sharp jaw and full lips looking even more dramatic in the low light. Her deep brown eyes sparkled as she smiled, and her gloved fingers played with the stem of her wineglass on the table.

Swallowing, Emma wanted to see her bare hand again, hold it in her own as she'd done that first morning. Her breath grew shallower as she licked her lips, and reached blindly for her glass, her chest flaring as it began to tilt, and she barely caught it in time.

When she'd steadied the stem, she looked up, and saw Regina looking at her curiously, though she said nothing. Snow, on the other hand, hadn't noticed at all. Rather, she held her spoon loosely in her hand, the little stew left in her bowl now undoubtedly cold. She wore a far-off stare, and Emma cleared her throat, raising her hand to get her attention.

After a moment she did break focus, and smiled shyly at Emma. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"How rare," Regina muttered, and Emma wondered if it was purposeful or if the wine had merely loosened her tongue.

Ignoring the jab, Snow placed her hands on the table, dropping the spoon and clasping her palms together. "I think I might know where to find the second sword."

At this, Regina perked up, and crossed her legs as she turned in her chair to face Snow. "What are you thinking?" She asked, squarely.

"When David was engaged to Abigail, he went looking for the Lady of the Lake to grant a wish, and free him from the engagement." Emma's eyes widened a bit at the history implied in that sentence, but Snow continued. "The lake was magical, and was rumored to be bottomless."

Regina's brows lowered, and she leaned forward a bit. "I thought the lake was how you got to the well," she said low, her voice meant only for Snow, though Emma could still hear. "That it was all dried up."

Licking her lips, Snow nodded. "It was. But," she worried her lip, "it has to be where Merlin left the second blade. Maybe if we go, we can find a clue of how to get it."

Emma's face fell at the discussion. "Or it could mean we'll never find it." The obvious conclusion hung in the air, until Henry yawned, and leaned heavily back in his seat. "Tired?" Henry nodded, too sleepy to even fake otherwise, and Emma smiled. "Go to bed, Henry."

Nodding, Henry pushed back from his chair and circled the table to head towards the stairs. "Henry," Emma said, stopping him. "You need a key, kid." He turned back, and Regina slid the key from her pocket, holding it up. Henry took it, his hands a bit rough from the climb down the mountain.

With a small gasp, Regina held Henry's wrist and turned it over to look at his dry palms. "You need to wash up, first. Does it hurt?" She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and Henry shook his head.

"No, just dry. It's not a big deal, really." Regina looked unconvinced, and he sighed. "Fine, I'll take care of it."

Regina pointed past him to a bathroom sign, and gave him very clear instructions on how to wash and check for small scrapes. The lecture was cute, if a bit intense for Emma's tastes. Still, her protectiveness of Henry was charming, and Emma found herself smiling just a bit foolishly at Regina.

Which, she apparently noticed, as she looked over and caught Emma eyeing her carefully. "What?" she asked defensively.

Shrugging, Emma picked up her glass, draining the last of it. "Nothing. Just, kind of sweet, I guess." The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and Emma felt the heat on her cheeks in an instant; she got the distinct impression that _sweet_ was not a word used often around Regina.

"Sweet?" she asked skeptically, confirming Emma's suspicions. However, there was a small smile in the corner of her lips, twitching like it had a bigger one growing beneath it, and Emma swallowed, standing her ground.

"Yeah, sweet." She held firm for a long moment, before she ducked her head a bit. "I don't know, I grew up without any of that protectiveness stuff, I guess it's just pretty appealing, or whatever." When she looked back up, Regina was looking at her softly, but Snow sat across from Emma, face distorted in pain. "Are you OK, Snow?" Emma asked quickly.

Regina turned to look, too, and Snow stood, pushing her chair back with a clatter in her haste. Righting it, she shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I just, I think I should head to bed, too." She smiled sadly at them, and walked toward Henry, who was just at the bottom of the stairs.

Emma watched as they walked out of view, into the room, before turning toward Regina. "That was weird, right?"

With a small, humorless laugh, Regina said, "I am the last person you should be asking about Snow and typical behavior." At Emma's confused look, she added a bit hesitantly, "Every time I think I know where she's coming from, she surprises me."

She licked her lips and turned to face Emma, leaning forward into Emma's part of the table. "And don't you dare tell her I said that." Emma smirked playfully, about to make a joke, when she saw the resolve in Regina's eyes.

"Fine," Emma agreed, and reached for the carafe of wine, only to find it empty. Gesturing toward Regina, she asked, "Are you gonna stay down here for a while?"

Her hands stilled on the table, and Emma thought again, about how their hands had felt together. "Perhaps I will, for one last drink," she said, quirking a brow to ask Emma.

"Me too," she said a bit awkwardly. "I mean, if you don't mind the company."

Regina sized her up for a moment before she glanced over her shoulder at the inn upstairs and her shoulders softened slightly. Her face softened, in that moment, and instead of snapping back at her—as Emma was almost certain she was about to do—she closed her mouth and gave Emma a smile.

A _real_ smile. It was small, but open and honest and absolutely stunning. Emma couldn't help but return it. "OK, so let's get another drink." Regina started to stand, and Emma held a hand out. "Why don't I grab them," she offered, noticing their waitress was on the other end of the room, and the bartender that had made Regina so upset was still in his spot behind the counter.

Regina reached into her pocket and pulled five coins out, handing them to her. "It should only cost two, for drinks and our meal," she warned. "Bring me a glass of cider," she instructed, and Emma rolled her eyes a bit as she turned at the order.

Emma stood in front of the counter and leaned onto it tiredly. Shifting her weight she rolled the twisted ankle, wincing a bit at the pain she felt. After a minute, the bartender walked over and quirked a brow as he dried a mug, looking put out. Emma wasn't positive, but she had a feeling it was the whole out-of-towner thing they had going for them. A lifetime of similar looks had made her pretty good at spotting them.

"I'll have a cider and a beer—" she cut herself off, closing one eye. "Ale, I guess? And I'll pay for dinner, too." He walked away without a word, silently filling two mugs and pushing them over to her.

"Three," he said, disinterested.

Pursing her lips, Emma said, "I'm guessing it's really two."

The man leaned over the bar and sized her up, his yellow teeth bared slightly. "_Three_," he said more firmly.

Emma sighed. "Look, I don't know what your issue is with my friend, or if you're just an ass because we're not from around here, but I don't have the patience for this crap."

She put two coins on the table, and reached over for the mugs, but was stopped by a heavy hand on her wrist. Smiling dangerously, Emma shook her head before quickly slipping her arm free and twisting her hand to grip his fingers, pulling them back as he winced loudly.

Holding the painful pose, his wrist bent back past uncomfortable, she leaned forward and said, low. "I told you I didn't have the patience," and let him go, picking up the mugs with one hand as she slipped one of the coins back into her pocket. "Thanks," she said sarcastically, and turned back toward the table where she'd left Regina.

Her eyebrows raised as she saw her, standing a few feet from the table, her hand held out as though she were about to conjure a fireball in the middle of the inn. "Woah," Emma said, walking past her and setting her cider in front of her seat. "Put it away," she said, feeling full of adrenaline after her minor run-in.

Regina lowered her hand and sat back down, reaching for her glass. As Emma took a sip, Regina smirked at her. "I can't say I didn't enjoy that."

Laughing lightly, Emma licked her lips. "Neither can I." Running her thumb up the side of the glass, she said, "I just can't stand jerks like that. That see someone and immediately think of how they can take advantage of them."

Regina bristled. "He did _not_ take advantage of me," she said dangerously. Her palms splayed out on the table and she said, quieter, "No one does." Leaning back in her chair she crossed her legs, her entire being demanding attention that Emma was all too happy to give. "Besides," she said, quirking a brow, "I don't need anyone to defend me."

"Yeah," she laughed, "that wasn't even a thought." Regina's face fell, and Emma licked her lips, holding up a hand. "I mean, I've only known you for a few days, and I'm pretty sure you're the most capable woman I've ever met."

Shifting at the compliment, Regina reached for her glass, pulling it closer. "Oh," she said uncomfortably, "well, thank you, Miss Swan."

Emma snorted, trying to shake off the suddenly heave moment and took a drink of her ale. "We're gonna be stuck together a little longer, can we can it with the Miss Swan crap? I mean, you can't tell me we were as close as we apparently were and you didn't just call me Emma."

A dark look fell over Regina's face, and she worried her lip before she took another sip. "I'm afraid we weren't quiet as…_close_ as you seem to think." At Emma's confused look, she added, "We didn't get along when you first came to Storybrooke, and though things tempered between us, we were never quite friends."

The statement stung like rejection, and Emma leaned her forearms on the table, holding her glass between both hands. "Oh," was all she could manage. "I guess," she shrugged, running her thumb up and down the cup.

"You thought what?" Regina prompted, and when Emma looked up at her, her eyes were a little wide with something like hope.

"I guess that makes sense." The smallest flicker of hurt crossed Regina's face. "That we clashed at first. I mean, you can do the whole bitchy Ice Queen thing like a pro. But," she shrugged, "it seems weird if we didn't move past that. I've seen you with Henry, and sometimes Snow, and me, even."

Regina licked her lips, watching Emma closely. "I guess I just can't imagine that anything was so bad between us that I wouldn't give you a second chance," she finished, shoulder hunched in embarrassment. She was laying herself bare, her forgotten self, at least, and judging by Regina's face, it was just as much of a surprise to her.

They drank for a moment, neither saying a word, as the loud music and laughter and cheering from the inn floor continued to fill the air.

"I didn't give you a second chance, either, Emma," Regina said softly, almost a whisper, and Emma had to lean forward to hear it.

When she did, Emma smiled at her, wide, and held up her mug. "Well, then," she tilted her head, "to second chances." Smiling, Regina touched her glass to Emma's lightly, before they both took a sip. The liquor was strong, and at halfway through the glass, Emma could feel just a bit of pleasant fuzziness starting to slip in.

Turning her body, she looked toward the center of the room, where a few of the women had gathered to dance as the small band played a new song. The high pitch of the flute was starting to grate, and Emma winced as she watched the women dance.

A look of mild distaste on her face, Emma tilted her head toward Regina and said, "God, is this all you had to listen to growing up here? Because if so, being sent to a world with the Beatles and Poison may have been merciful."

Regina laughed, a _real_ laugh, small as it was, and the action transformed her face; she suddenly looked years younger, her full lips quirked in an easy smile, her eyes glittering in the candlelight, and her shoulders relaxed. And the _sound_. Emma was positive she had never heard anything as captivating as the low chuckle that fell from tongue.

Emma licked her lips, her eyes running over the details of Regina's face, her neck, her arms. She'd noticed when she had first arrived how Regina had beautiful in a sort-of haunted way. But now—open and relaxed and almost _happy_—she was radiant.

"Of course you enjoy Poison," she playfully scoffed, taking a sip of her drink and breaking the deep moment Emma had fallen into. "Let me guess: your iPod consists of nothing but glam rock and early grunge?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Emma smirked. "And yours, I suppose, is overflowing with taste?" Regina raised a brow but didn't answer, simply taking another drink from her glass. Scooting closer, Emma prompted, "OK, now you have to tell me."

"I have to do no such thing."

"C'mon, Regina, I showed you mine."

Regina snorted, but smiled playfully. "You most certainly did not," she eyed Emma, and a blush rose on her pale face. "Besides, I agreed to no sort of trade. You gave it up willingly, dear." Regina's tongue flicked against the edge of her teeth, and Emma felt heat course through her body.

"Well," Emma started, but before she could finish the music had grown louder, the patrons clapping in—slightly drunken—time, as several patrons had joined in with the dance taking place in the middle of the room. They moved in a simple series of steps, and Emma found herself getting lost in the performance of so many.

"Ladies!" one of the waitresses came to their table, holding out her hands. "Come dance," she said with a perky smile.

"I think not," Regina said coldly, the playfulness she'd just shown disappearing in an instant. Emma watched as the girl walked away quickly, writing their table off as a waste, before trying to cajole the next group into getting up.

Regina's easy smile had faded with the disturbance, and Emma bit her lip, not ready to see the vibrant woman that had just been opening up fade away again. "Come on," she said, and stood, holding out her hands.

"Emma," Regina warned, but Emma tugged gently on her arm, and she stood up. "Emma, I haven't danced in years and—"

"And I've never danced in this world," she said loudly, as she pulled Regina closer to the music and into the throng of slightly inebriated patrons. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she laughed, buzzed from the liquor and the presence of the woman before her.

Bodies bumped past them in dance as Emma stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Looking around she tried to watch the others, stomach dropping as she realized what a dumb idea this was. How she thought this would make Regina smile when she had no idea—

"Emma," Regina said, quirking her brow and holding up a hand impatiently. "If you're going to make me do this," she teased, and Emma looked around before placing her palm against Regina's as the other couples were doing.

They walked in a small circle, Regina leading Emma in the simple steps of the dance. Trying to keep up, Emma dropped her hand when Regina did, and copied her movements as she stepped to the side and kicked her foot low in front of her.

Laughing self-consciously, Emma fumbled through the movements, kicking and clapping and spinning, certain she was doing it wrong but enjoying the moment regardless.

It seemed Regina was, too. Her mouth was parted as she quietly sang along, and she moved perfectly with the group, her eyes sparkling. Those around her spun away from their partners, taking Emma with them in the motion, and she struggled to keep up with the movements as she looked around to spot where Regina had ended up.

The flute played shrilly behind her as she watched Regina, face open as she danced with one of the waitresses across the dance area. Emma was captivated, she couldn't look away, and she blindly grasped hands as the dancers slid closer to their original partners, Regina coming closer to her with every beat.

"You're a terrible dancer, Emma," Regina said, laughing, and Emma couldn't help but do the same, smiling at the realization that Regina had been watching her, too.

Putting her back toward Emma, Regina put her hands out behind her back, bent at the elbow, and Emma did the same, following the others as she turned to dance back to back with Regina.

The heat of the inn was stifling, the air thick with the smell of liquor and heat, but Emma pressed herself closer to her partner, their shoulders brushing as they tilted their heads to see the other.

The music stopped, and Regina stilled, dropping Emma's hands reluctantly, and turning to face Emma. Clearing her throat, she defended, "I told you I haven't done that in years."

Emma followed her back to the table, and as she sat down, Emma smiled, "Looked good to me."

Regina pursed her lips, but her cheek twitched with the effort as she sat down, too. "Yes, well a rather low bar there."

Both women finished their drinks slowly, savoring the last vestiges of the moment, until Regina set her empty glass down softly. "You asked me why the Evil Queen cast the curse." Emma nodded after a moment, remembering. "It wasn't that she was evil," she said softly. "At least, not entirely.

"Her actions were deplorable, vicious, and she did many unforgivable things." Regina swallowed deeply, and Emma leaned forward, sensing the heaviness of her words. "But she was very, very lonely when she cast that curse. Unhappy. Miserable. And nothing she did could slate that misery."

"So she wanted everyone else to be miserable, too," Emma said, understanding. Regina looked up in surprise, and Emma shrugged. "Misery loves company. There's a reason it's such an old saying." Emma sighed, leaning her cheek heavily on her hand. "God, how horrible must things have been—"

"She wouldn't want, nor need your pity, Miss Swan," she bit out quickly. Regret flashed in her eyes, but she kept her lips pressed together.

Leaning away at the venom, Emma shook her head. "It's not pity. It's sympathy. Empathy, maybe."

Regina scoffed. "Empathy?"

Emma's brow furrowed in defense. "Yeah, empathy. My life hasn't exactly been rainbows, Regina." She wasn't sure why, but the accusation that she wouldn't understand resonated deeply. "I'm not saying I've ever enacted a curse, but I've had my shitty nights, too, where all I wanted to do was hurt people as bad as I hurt. Sometimes I did," she finished, softly.

Regina seemed skeptical. "I'm sure you did," she said, almost patronizingly.

Scoffing, Emma leaned back in her chair. "You could ask the foster dad I knocked out with a frying pan for trying to touch me. Or the bully I gave a broken arm to at school for calling me 'Orphan Annie' for weeks. The foster sister with a scar on her leg from when I caught her trying to steal from me. The kid at the group home I stabbed for _actually_ touching me." Emma stared at Regina evenly, her heart racing from the words and the memories and the regretful expression on Regina's face.

Breathing out slowly, Regina shook her head, speaking softly, "That's different, Emma."

Nodding, she said, "Yeah, it is. It was vengeance. _Justice_, as I thought of it back then. People getting what they deserved." Regina's jaw clenched. "How about this: ask the social worker that gave me a popsicle at every visit how I keyed her car. Or the foster parents I had when I was thirteen, and they threw me a birthday party, tried to make me feel like a part of the family. Ask them how I stole from them, and trashed their house.

"I'm not saying what she did was right, not even close, and I can't imagine the pain she inflicted on you, and Snow, and the others." Regina watched her closely. "Revenge is pretty easy to get sucked into. But lashing out at people that have never hurt you, maybe even been kind to you, that's something different. Wanting to make happy people miserable only comes from a lot of pain and betrayal."

She sucked in a breath at how much of herself she was revealing. The ale was strong, but this was something more, something born of momentum, and she couldn't stop herself from _finally_ getting it out. "You only hurt the nice ones because it's not fair. And because it can't last. If they had to go through what you did, they wouldn't be nice and happy and helpful. They'd be as broken as you are."

Regina watched her closely for a long moment. "That doesn't sound like a fairytale at all."

"No," Emma agreed solemnly. "It doesn't. I guess that's what happens when you're from the real world. But I was lucky." Regina quirked a brow in interest. "I didn't plan on him, but I had Henry."

Regina's face softened. "He changed it all," she said, a statement, not a question.

Smiling, Emma's shoulders relaxed, and she nodded. "He did. I realized all that anger, and regret, and pain—"

"Meant nothing in comparison." The two shared a smile. It was weird, how Regina knew so intimately what Emma had felt from her son. Almost as though she had first-hand knowledge of the fact. She couldn't, right? Surely if she was a parent she would have mentioned it by now, would have been with her child back at the castle.

Shaking her head at the thought, Emma stood up from the table, her chair scraping along the floor. "I, uh, we should probably get to bed. Early start tomorrow, right?"

Regina licked her lips, nodding, and stood, too. "Right," she confirmed.

Heading to the stairs, Emma turned when she felt as though Regina wasn't following her, and found her waiting a few steps back. "You coming?" she asked.

"Go on ahead. I'm going to stop at the washroom," she said quietly, and Emma nodded, leaving her as she walked up the stairs. The room was quiet when Emma entered, save for Snow and Henry's gentle snoring, and she smiled at the sight of her son all spread out in one bed.

Toeing off her boots and pulling off her vest, she nudged at Henry's side until he rolled over, and she could get into the bed. The room was almost dark, save for a small lamp on the table between the beds, and she could make out very little in the room.

As she settled in on her back, she thought about Regina, about the conversation they'd just had. How light and free she'd been as she danced, how they'd teased each other, and how natural it had felt to share such buried truths with the other woman.

The door creaked open, and Emma watched, breathless, as Regina's silhouette moved into the room and closed the door, gently. Emma couldn't look away as Regina gently braced an arm on the wall and slid her own boots off, before slipping off the jacket as well.

Emma suddenly felt embarrassed, guilty, like she was watching something she shouldn't, and she rolled her eyes away to look up at the ceiling. Soft footsteps grew closer to the bed as Regina sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Snow.

Regina tilted her head toward Emma, and though they couldn't make each other out in the darkness, Emma knew she was looking at her, too. She pulled her gloves off, gently, and set them on the nightstand, before slipping her legs beneath the covers, and rolling to sleep on her left side, her body facing Emma's bed.

Closing her eyes, Emma tried to focus on sleeping, her mind having a hard time settling, knowing that Regina was looking at her.

"Springsteen," she said, disrupting the silence of the room.

Rolling her head to the side, Emma asked, "Huh?"

The low light of the lamp between them did little to illuminate her face, but Emma could tell she was smiling softly. "On my iPod, if I had one here. Springsteen."

Emma laughed quietly, trying not to wake the others, and rolled onto her side, to face Regina more fully. "Just him?"

"No," she said simply. Emma started to roll back, but Regina continued. "Bob Dylan. Hall and Oates. Billy Joel."

"Anyone else?"

"Mariah Carey. The Stones. Billie Holiday. Some show tunes. Journey."

Emma breathed out, trying to search out more than her silhouette. "You're indecisive," she laughed.

"It's called being eclectic, Miss Swan." The use of her last name warmed Emma, playful as it was said, and she rolled back onto her back. The fact that Regina shared with her made Emma's heart pound just a bit harder, and she drifted off to sleep with a small smile on her lips.

* * *

In the morning, she was the last to rise. Light filtered in through the dusty shades of the window above the bed, and she slid up slowly, her back protesting from the hard bed and the days of walking.

"Late night?" Snow asked, pulling on her vest at the end of her bed. Her tone was light, consciously so, and Emma furrowed her brow a bit.

"Uh, not really." Snow hummed lightly in response, and sat down to pull on her shoes. Looking around the room, she noticed it was just the two of them. "Where's Henry? And Regina?"

Snow straightened her clothes, and smoothed her hair into its braid. "Downstairs, getting something to eat." She tossed Emma's bag at her, a little roughly. "Get dressed and we can join them."

"OK," Emma said a bit warily, and reached down to pull on her boots. "Uh," she glanced up at Snow, "is everything alright?"

After a long pause, Snow sighed, and rolled her shoulders. "Yeah," she said, much more convincingly. "Everything's fine, I'm sorry."

Emma laced up her second shoe, and shrugged. "'S fine, I know it must be pretty stressful."

Snow pulled her bag onto her back. "Oh, it is," she agreed with a small shake of her head, and waited while Emma pulled her vest on, followed by the red leather jacket. Scanning the room quickly, she slipped her own pack on, and yawned before following Snow out of the room and down the stairs.

The dining area that had been so loud the night before was now nearly empty, just a few people scattered about. It was easy for Emma to spot Regina and Henry standing by the bar, talking to one another.

As they reached the counter, both turned to look at them, and Regina gave a small nod to Emma. "Good morning," she said, and Emma could have sworn she was suppressing a grin.

"Morning," Emma said back, her eyes lingering too long on Regina's face.

"Hey, ma. We got you guys breakfast," Henry said, holding out two loaves of bread.

With a grimace Emma took hers, and bit into it unenthusiastically. "You know, I could really go for a Big Mac right about now."

Henry stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the counter. "This isn't a road trip, ma," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him, dry bread clinging to her tongue.

"Oh, Miss Swan," Regina grimaced, and handed over the glass of wine she held. "Your table manners are atrocious," she sneered, and Emma smiled at her over the rim of the cup.

The bartender from the previous night walked over, and held out his hand for the key, which Snow handed over with a smile. Emma handed the glass back to Regina, who set it down on the counter. As they turned to leave, the man reached out, grabbing Regina's arm.

"I'm gonna need four more coins for your stay." Regina glared at him dangerously and ripped her arm away from him.

"What in heaven's for?" Emma stepped closer to the counter, standing right next to Regina and eyeing the bandage on his hand as he held it up.

"Damages," he said simply.

"Please," Emma scoffed. "I didn't even break anything. Shake it off."

"Emma," Snow said, warningly. "Don't." Emma stood her ground for a long moment, until another guy from behind the bar walked toward them, standing beside the bartender. "Please," Snow demanded, and Emma leaned back a bit reaching into her pocket for the coins Regina had given her the night before.

Dropping them roughly on the counter, she turned, putting her hand gently on Regina's lower back as they walked out of the inn. Once in the bright sunlight of the day, Regina stepped aside, wrapping her arms around her stomach as the door closed heavily behind them.

Snow ran a hand down Emma's arm comfortingly, and squeezed her wrist. "I'm going to go to that barn, see if we can buy some horses."

As she walked away, Regina looked over her shoulder to sneer at the inn. Henry looked up at her from where he stood between them, and asked, "Ma?" He was getting older, quickly, but there were still things he didn't get, even if he understood them. Emma squeezed his shoulder and waited until Regina met her eyes.

"You OK?" She asked quietly, and Regina glared a moment before she deflated, and nodded curtly.

"Fine." Emma waited, open face prompting her to explain, but she simply tugged at her jacket. Emma slung one arm around her son, and chewed at the loaf of bread in her other hand as they waited. A few people milled around the dirt paths between the buildings, and faint neighing could be heard from the few horses tied to the post in the middle of the village.

"I'm not used to being without my magic. Without knowing I can," she lowered her voice, "defend myself."

"I thought you said you haven't really had much magic since you got back, a year ago?"

Regina eyed her with a small frown. "That doesn't mean I've gotten used to it," she said quietly.

Emma lifted the hand the hung over her son's shoulder, holding it up toward Regina. "Wanna go back in and blast him? I'll give you a boost," she smiled, and Regina's pursed lips twitched.

"Getting confident with your abilities, now?" Regina asked.

Henry looked up at the women and Emma held her bread up, dropping crumbs on him playfully. He groaned, pulling away and wiping at his hair. Emma laughed and popped another bit off into her mouth as Regina bit her cheek.

Emma started wandering toward the barn Snow had gestured to, the other two following, and they took their time on their little stroll. It was a pleasant difference from the purposeful way they'd been traveling, and Emma felt something in her settle.

As they neared the barn, Snow walked out, reins in her hand as she led two horses over toward them. Emma took a final bite of her breakfast and held her now-free hand out as Snow came to a stop in front of them. "Uh, there are only two."

"My, did you get all those skills from your years as a bailsbondsperson?" Regina said with a phony smile.

Giving her an unimpressed look, she gestured between them. "Two of them, but _four_ of us."

Regina pulled her right glove off slowly. "Well, perhaps if you hadn't boosted our bill up to 12 coins for a single room with your violent outburst, we could have afforded four." Glancing at Emma from where her head was tilted down she dropped the snarky tone. "Even if you miraculously knew how to ride a horse, Henry does not. It's safer to do it this way," she said.

Snow smiled as the horse to her right sniffed at her shoulder gently. Both horses had chestnut coats that glimmered in the rising sunlight, though the one to Snow's left seemed to be darker in color, almost black when the light hit just right.

"Actually, they were only willing to sell two anyway," Snow said, turning to face the horses slowly. She held a hand up toward the lighter one, resting her palm flat on its broad neck. "And they said that he," she nodded toward the darker one, "is a bit temperamental."

Emma stepped forward, eyeing the horse, when Regina held out an arm stopping her. "What do you think you're doing?"

Emma looked around before shrugging. "Um, going toward the horse?"

"Are you an idiot?"

Emma gaped. "Uh, I guess, considering I assumed we were gonna be riding them."

Regina shook her head. "A bit of advice, if you hear a horse is temperamental, you don't immediately walk right up to it." She held up a hand. "Stay back," she said more gently, looking between both Emma and Henry.

They backed up toward Snow as Regina waited until the horse looked at her, its ears twitching a bit in her direction. Its tail flicked back and forth, and Regina approached slowly, resting her palms flat against the horse's neck. After a moment, she slid her palms firmly over the course coat, brushing back toward the massive shoulder of the animal.

After a moment the flicking tail calmed, and Regina smiled wide, looking the horse in the eye.

"Um," Emma murmured to Snow standing beside her.

"I know," she nodded, watching Regina fondly. "She's actually great with horses. Has been as long as I've known her," she said wistfully.

Regina brushed the horse with her hands once more, before pushing off gently and backing away, sliding her glove back on. "He's fine." She reached out a hand for the reins, and Snow handed them over. "Did you get something to feed them?" She asked, and Snow nodded.

"In the bags," she gestured to the back of her horse. Regina nodded, and began securing her own pack to the saddle, before reaching out for Henry's and doing the same.

Effortlessly, Emma watched as Regina lifted herself up and onto the back of the horse, her thighs resting on either side of the wide back. "Shall we be on our way?" she asked pointedly, and nodded at Snow.

As Snow got on her own horse, Regina looked down at Henry and scooted back on the saddle. "Here," she said softly, and held out an arm. "Put your left foot in the stirrup, there—good—and grab the pommel here." Henry did as she instructed, and with a little help as she guided him by the shoulder, Henry settled into the seat.

"This is really far up," he said, and Regina squeezed his arm.

Emma eyed both horses warily, and looked at Regina. "Is it really a good idea to put the kid on the temperamental one?"

Regina gripped the pommel as the horse took a few steps in place. "I'm the better rider," she said matter-of-factly.

Snow smiled down from her spot on the horse and held her own hand out to assist Emma as Regina had. "She's right. Henry's safe with her," she said to Regina.

Eyes nearly crossed in concentration, Emma put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up just as her son had, though the length of her legs made her landing less than graceful. "Careful, Emma," Snow laughed quietly, and helped situate her on the saddle behind her. "Are we ready?"

With a curt nod, Regina spurred her horse forward, toward Camelot.

* * *

Emma's ass was numb. Like, full on numb. Shifting, she tried to get comfortable, but Snow's warning, " _Emma_ ," was enough to make her feel thoroughly scolded.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they were moving more quickly. They'd been walking—trotting, according to Regina—for the better part of four hours—with just two breaks—and it seemed like they'd been "getting close" to Camelot for the last half hour of it.

The castle was in sight—had been for an hour now—as they traveled in wide open field. The scenery was a nice change from nonstop forest, but the unfiltered sun above them left Emma feeling just south of comfortable.

"So," Emma started, shifting forward on the uncomfortable saddle. "What's the plan when we get to Camelot?"

"Well," Snow started, "I guess we'll see if anyone can direct us to the stone."

"And they'd tell us? Just like that?" Emma asked skeptically. Wasn't this place a big deal?

"They have no reason to hide it. The sword can only be pulled out by the rightful owner."

"Uh," Emma's eyes widened. "And we don't think that's gonna be a problem? Getting it out of the stone _without_ the rightful owner?"

A giggle pulled her attention, and when she looked over at Regina and Henry, just a bit ahead, she saw his head thrown back in laughter and Regina's fingers tickling lightly at his neck. Smiling at the sight, she shifted once more before relaxing a bit. Still, it didn't change their problem.

"Snow?" She prompted.

"I don't know, Emma," she said sadly. "We'll figure it out, we always do." Emma ignored the implied history, and focused on the fact that Camelot was actually getting closer and closer.

After a few more minutes, they neared a wide bridge, and both horses stilled. Snow slid off the back of the animal, holding her hand out to help Emma do the same, as Regina and Henry also dismounted. On foot, they walked across the bridge and into the small village.

Where Emma had expected to see people out, selling their wares and being social—at least from the movies she could recall—the town was instead almost deserted, with just a few people milling about.

"Is it just me or is this place kinda empty?" she asked, gesturing around at the numerous buildings. The town was much bigger than the village they had been at earlier, but from what it felt like it had half the population or less.

"When the curse that sent us here broke, parts of other worlds were frozen." Snow explained, leading her horse as they walked further into the town. "Most of Camelot was not, and without allies, and ogres still a threat, a lot of them were lost by the time we came back."

An older, frail man walked out of one of the buildings near them as they walked, and Snow slowed and raised a hand. "Hello, sir," she smiled. The man eyed her suspiciously, and tugged his coat closer to his body. "Could you help us? We're looking for…" she trailed off as he walked away from her quickly. "Nevermind."

Regina sneered, passing the horse's lead over to Snow. "You're so naïve," she said a little bitterly, and moved swiftly over to stop the man with a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't run away from me if I were you," she looked at him darkly, and Emma's eyes widened in alarm as she held her hand up, ready to conjure more fire. Geez, what _was_ it with her and that?

"Regina!" She shouted as the first flames flickered, and the man used her distraction to run away from the group, down an alley. Turning to face all of them, Emma held out her hands. "OK, clearly neither of you are the people to do this. How about I do the talking from now on?"

Snow nodded, and Regina eyed her for a long time before she, too, relented an bite out a _fine_.

Emma looked around, and spotting a woman walking up towards what looked to be her house, Emma walked over to her calmly. "Ma'am?" she asked, with a small but polite smile.

"Who are you?" she asked distrustfully, pushing open the door to her house.

"My name is Emma, and I'm looking for a sword, stuck in a stone?" The woman shook her head quickly, and ducked inside her house without another word, leaving Emma alone outside her door.

Turning, she shrugged, and as she walked back to them, she noticed Regina's quirked eyebrow and smirk. "Thank the gods we have you here to help us," she teased, and Emma squared her jaw at the insult.

The next five people they saw gave similar responses, and knocking on doors had proved to be little more than a waste of time.

Their mission was looking grim.

"You seem to know the most about Camelot," Emma said to Snow. "Is there _anyone_you knew that might still be here, and be willing to help us? I mean, at this point it would make more sense to just start trekking through the woods."

Snow looked deep in concentration. "No, I only knew Lancelot. And that's because he had come to my kingdom." Looking up suddenly she smiled. "Because of a girl, _Guinevere_. I never met her, but maybe," she looked over to the castle, and licked her lips. "It's a long shot," she warned.

"Well we're certainly wasting our time here as it is," Regina reminded.

* * *

The castle sat on a hill, and the climb up there had not been pleasant. Already Emma was missing the horse that had left her so uncomfortable, as she struggled to climb the never-ending steps.

After what felt like hours, the group made it to the castle entrance, and Emma looked up at the imposing door. "So what, do we just knock?"

Snow shrugged, and walked close to the door. "Usually there are guards out here," she murmured, before doing exactly as Emma suggested. The knock echoed loud around them, and Snow leaned away from the wood.

The waited, and when no sign of acknowledgement came, Snow tried again. "Can they even hear us from way out here?" Emma asked.

When no one came again, Regina stepped forward. "I'll get their attention," she said, and held up her hand, conjuring a fireball. With a clean arc she threw it up, high, to be seen over the castle wall, and it landed hard against one of the flags standing on the ledge.

"Regina," Snow said, sounding every bit a schoolteacher, but Regina merely raised her shoulders.

"If there's anyone inside, we can be sure they've noticed." After a moment, the wooden door to the castle groaned open, and a nervous looking guard stuck his head out.

"Are you being attacked?" He asked, looking around behind the group with wide eyes.

"No, but you will be if you don't let us in," Regina said smoothly, the guards eyes widening further.

"Regina," Snow said again, and stepped in front of her, holding out a hand to the nervous boy. "We mean you no harm. My name is Snow White, and I am Queen of the Enchanted Forest." Regina cleared her throat, but Snow waved her hand behind her. "I was hoping to speak with Lady Guinevere, if that's possible?"

The guard started to open the door, but stopped. "Should I ask her first?" he questioned aloud, before standing taller, and trying to appear more imposing. He failed, miserably. "I mean, I need to see if she is available. Wait here," he shut the door with a resounding thud, and Emma tried not to laugh at the weak security.

"What the hell was that?" she smiled.

"I don't know," Snow answered. "But at least we know Guinevere is still here."

"Not for long, judging by how squirrely that guy was," Emma snorted.

The door started to open again, and instead of the guard, a woman stood in the entrance. She was beautiful, and wore a gentle smile on small lips. Her skin was tan and clear, and her dark hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls. The dress she wore was nice, but plain, and when she saw Snow her eyes sparkled.

"Snow?" she asked, looking directly at her. Snow held a hand up in greeting, but before she could say anything more, Guinevere pulled her deep into a hug. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she breathed happily.

"Uh, is this just what princesses do here?" Emma asked under her breath, and Regina's lips twitched.

When she pulled back, Guinevere held her by the wrists and looked past, to the rest of the group. "Hello! Welcome to Camelot." She looked at Snow again. "Lancelot told me all about you, Snow," she said, a little sadly. "Please, come in," she pushed the door open wider, and Emma put her hands on Henry's shoulders, steering him forward into the castle.

"You must be tired from your journey," Guinevere said over her shoulder, as they walked down a hall of the castle.

"We haven't eaten much," Henry said, and Guinevere turned, looking at him fondly.

"Well, I think we can scrounge something up," she said, and continued leading them farther into the castle. A very empty castle, Emma noticed. Besides the guard they'd met at the door, there had yet to see any other staff.

Guinevere brought them through a door, and into a kitchen, where a table stood with vegetables strewn across, loaves of bread, and a few fruits. Pulling stools out from the large center island, Guinevere gestured for them to sit down. "Please," she said sweetly, and Emma sat down beside Henry, Regina to her left and Snow across the wide table. Guinevere walked around the kitchen, pulling out a few items like she was familiar in the space, and setting them on the island as she spoke. "It's so nice to meet you, Snow. I never thought I would, considering…all that has happened in our lands. But it's a treat, I assure you."

Snow blushed, and shifted in her seat. "I'm shocked you even know who I am."

Guinevere looked up from the cured meat she was plating, and nodded, fondly. "Of course I do," she said, slicing the loaf of bread, and adding them to the plates. "You're the reason my Lancelot came home to me."

Startled, Snow asked, "What?"

Nodding, Guinevere continued to cut food, and distribute it between four plates. "He'd left the Round Table years before the curse, because of trouble with Arthur. And how our king felt about our relationship," she said more quietly. "He was gone for almost three years, until one day, he simply came back. Came home." She handed plates around to the travelers, smiling as Henry dug in like the growing boy he was.

Snow's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure what that has to do with me, Guinevere."

"When Lancelot came home, he told me he'd been asked to marry a couple—you and your husband—and that it had made him realize what he had lost. That he hadn't fought for me the way you two fought for each other." She smiled softly, resting delicate hands on the table. "I got the love of my life back, because of you, Snow White. And I've never been able to thank you."

"I don't know what to say," Snow laughed lightly. "I'm glad I could help. But you owe me no thanks, Lady Guinevere. If anything, I owe your husband for all that he did."

Regina rolled her eyes at the flowery conversation, and took a bite of her food. "If we're done fawning over one another?" she prompted. Emma bit her lip, as the agreement almost bubbled out of her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Snow said, and gestured around the table. "This is Regina."

Guinevere's eyes narrowed. "As in Qu—"

"No," Snow said quickly. "No, just Regina. And my—friend, Emma. And her son, Henry."

Guinevere nodded politely, and smiled warmly. "A pleasure to meet you all. Is it alright?" she pointed to the food. "It's nothing grand, but our castle has become rather informal."

Emma brushed the breadcrumbs from her lips and nodded. "It's great, thank you."

"Guinevere," Snow asked, chewing on a piece of cheese, "why is Camelot so…deserted?"

Smiling wistfully, she leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. "Most of us were frozen here—by the curse we later found out to be the one that sent you to the other world—and when we were unfrozen, the ogres had been running rampant.

"We were able to fight them for a while, but we lost a lot of men—more than we could spare—and it started looking like we'd have to simply leave." She licked her lips, lost in memory. "Lancelot, he was the reason everyone was fighting so hard. He'd taken over as a leader when Arthur died—before we were frozen—and when we woke up he was an even better man than he had been."

"What happened?" Henry asked, a bit lost.

"A sorceress came, and promised to rid us of the ogres." The soft features of her face darkened, and she bit out, "her name was Cora."

Regina paled beside Emma, and she dropped the bread she was holding back onto the table. Snow looked over sympathetically, though Emma was lost as to what happened. "You OK?" she asked Regina quietly, and she pressed her lips together.

"Yes, it's nothing," she murmured. "What happened? With the sorceress?" Regina asked with renewed interest.

"She poisoned my men against me, convinced them they needed to leave—" she broke off, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispered, "she killed my husband."

Regina pushed away from the table, excusing herself quietly as she slipped through the door. Emma started to stand, to follow her, but Snow reached a hand out, and gently said, "Just give her a minute, Emma."

Her sudden distress was unsettling, and Emma warred with herself before she sat back down, doing as Snow had suggested. Guinevere wiped at her eyes, sniffling a small nose, and gave a watery smile. "I'm sorry," she said, and Snow was quick to reassure her.

Emma continued to pick at her food while the other women talked, though she tuned out most of it, instead casting long glances to the door.

"…looking for the Sword in the Stone," Emma picked up, focusing on Snow as she explained why they were there.

"Oh," Guinevere said in surprise. "Why?"

Snow hesitated, looking at Emma, but Emma had no good response to give herself. Biting a lip, Snow shrugged, and said, "It's kind of a long story."

Guinevere laughed, and said, "I have time." At the hesitant faces around the table, she shook her head. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. I can show you, but it's really nothing more than show, now that Arthur's line is gone."

Before they had to respond, Regina walked back into the room and sat down silently, picking up her food like nothing had happened.

"You know, I think we can find it on our own, if you can just point us in the right direction?" Emma asked, pushing her empty plate forward to rest her crossed arms on the table.

"Oh, of course," Guinevere said. "It's a bit of a journey, though. Are you sure you wouldn't want me to guide you?"

Snow nodded, smiling sweetly. "We're sure. But thank you so much for your help, and your hospitality, Guinevere."

Snow stood, and the others followed, Henry stuffing the last of the food into his mouth before swallowing heavily. "Here," Guinevere said, pulling out a small bag, and placing some of the produce from the table and a large piece of cured meat into it. "For your journey," she said, and handed it over to Snow, who took it gratefully.

She walked them back out of the castle, the halls still nearly empty, and Emma felt a pang of guilt for leaving her. The woman was obviously lonely, but they had a mission, and it was wholly unproductive to pick up others on the way.

Not to mention they still had a dangerous creature out tracking them. Well, Emma thought, anyway. It had been two days, now, without seeing it at all. Was it bound by the Enchanted Forest, somehow? Or could it simply not find them, as they'd been moving around?"

They arrived at the door out, and Guinevere turned to face them. "Please come back if you need anything. I mean it. Or if you'd just like to visit, and I hope you will, Snow," she grabbed Snow's hand and squeezed.

Pulling open the door, she walked through, and pointed South. A sparse forest littered the space ahead. "Head straight South for about twenty miles. There's a clearing, and in the center you'll find the sword."

"Thank you," Snow said again.

"Be careful, Snow," Guinevere warned, and closed the door slowly.

* * *

The walk back down to their horses was much easier, but Regina's odd silence put Emma on edge. Snow loosened her horse from the tree they'd left him at, and Regina did the same. As Snow's horse walked calmly where she led, though, Regina's horse stomped the ground, and its ears pinned back.

"What's wrong with him?" Henry asked, the signs of distress obvious and a bit frightening.

"Horses are sensitive creatures, Henry," Regina said, and backed up a bit to give the animal space.

"Regina?" Emma prompted, as Snow pulled herself onto her horse. "Is everything OK?"

"Obviously not," she snapped, looking at her with cruel eyes. After a moment she dropped her head, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit anxious, and it's making him nervous, too," she gestured to the horse that had calmed slightly, but was still irritated.

"OK," Emma said, and held her hands up. "Is there anything I can do?" She let one hand drop to rest gently on Regina's arm, and Emma could see how Regina's shoulders relaxed at the touch.

Breathing slowly, Regina turned to face the animal as Emma dropped her hand back down. The horse's ears had returned forward, and the stomping had quieted. Emma wasn't sure, but it looked like a good sign. "Perhaps," Regina started awkwardly, "Henry should ride with Snow. Since he seems to be rather sensitive, right now," she gestured toward the horse.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, bobbing her head in agreement. "Yeah, sure. I'd feel better about him being on the calmer horse. Thanks," she said, and turned to look at her son, who was petting the lighter horse fondly, as he had seen Regina do earlier.

"Snow?" She looked up from where she had been talking to Henry below her. "Will you take Henry this time?"

"Of course," Snow nodded, though she eyed Regina a bit warily before helping Henry swing up onto the horse.

Regina took a deep breath and approached the horse again, hands held up gently as she made eye contact. This time the beast reacted much like he had earlier, allowing Regina to brush her hands over his neck and then direct him away from the tree.

As she'd done back in the village, Regina swung herself onto the horse gracefully, and Emma tried not to blush as she watched tone thighs flex beneath her black pants. "Emma," she said, and held out a hand. "Put your foot in the stirrup and grab the pommel," she directed, and Emma did as she said, her left hand gripping the leather between Regina's thighs.

Swallowing harshly—and noting that the simple action hadn't been so daunting the first time—she took Regina's hand with her right, and pulled herself up, to land behind Regina. Scooting back as suddenly as she realized how close they were, Emma unzipped her jacket, suddenly warm.

"Forward," Regina instructed over her shoulder, and tugged on Emma's knee resting behind her. "And calm down," she hissed, the horse starting to shift impatiently.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled, and licked her lips as she scooted forward, her thighs spread as she felt her center snug against Regina's ass—a very _firm_ass, Emma tried not to think about.

"Are you ready?" Regina asked Snow, and the other woman nodded before urging her horse forward to take the lead. Regina followed, the movement making Emma slip just a bit further forward on the saddle, and she swallowed deeply.

* * *

They were barely twenty minutes into the ride, and Emma was pretty sure she was going to die.

"You have to hold _on_, Emma," Regina said, irritated, as she gripped Emma's knee, keeping her on the horse as they walked up a small incline.

Emma mumbled an apology for what felt like the hundredth time. The problem was, everything felt complicated now. Where she'd hung on to Snow's sides without thought this morning, the same area on Regina felt like dangerous territory; intimate. Like when she'd held her waist helping her down the mountain.

She kept slipping forward due to the rise in the back of the saddle, and the motion of the horse was leaving her thighs raw from friction, and her mind numb from the very thought. She couldn't hold on to Regina's waist, thighs were worse, and it wasn't as though she could hold on to the reins without practically _hugging_ her and that seemed like the worst idea yet.

Regina, she would bet her life, was _not_ a hugger. Well, except for Henry, it seemed. Still, the thought was a firm no, and that left her with no place to put her hands but on her own thighs, or—as a jerk that landed her fingers close to the small of Regina's back and _lower _proved that a poor option as well—hanging limply by her sides.

"Would you rather we switch spots?" she asked harshly, and Henry turned to look over at them from his horse, just a bit ahead on the trail.

Emma thought it over—Regina hugging _her_, _her_ center pressed against Emma—and she shook her head. "Uh, no, no that's OK."

"Then here," she held the reins in her left hand and reached back for Emma's right, tugging on it until it rested, fingers splayed, on Regina's flat stomach. "I don't want to have to stop to pick your body up off the ground," she said, and Emma rolled her eyes.

As they rode, Emma could now feel the minor movements of Regina's body, holding her as she was. Her stomach flexed with each step, and her hips tilted back and forth to follow the horse's movements. Heat filled Emma's lower belly like molasses, and she found her eyes fluttering closed as they moved.

Getting lost in the moment, Emma felt her head tilt forward, and she found herself inhaling the scent of her—mostly earthy, a little musky, but somehow almost clean, like linen and rain. It made Emma shift back self-consciously, painfully aware of how long it had been since she'd been able to take a shower—and boy did she understand their reasoning on getting plumbing here, ASAP—and she prayed that she smelled as good as Regina as she shifted closer.

As they rode, Regina had seemed to calm, and though Emma didn't want to rekindle bad feelings, she was curious about what had happened. "So, back at the castle," she started, and Regina held up a hand.

"I'm fine, now," she said, shutting her down.

"OK. Good, I guess." Clearing her throat, she added a bit of pressure to Regina's stomach, and she felt her suck in a breath. "Just, if you wanna talk about—well, whatever it was—you can."

Regina's shoulders tensed. "I don't," she said. Looking over her shoulder, she murmured, "Not now."

She fell silent, and Emma let her answer rest. After a moment, Regina's gloved hand fell to Emma's on her stomach, before falling away.

* * *

By the time they reached the clearing it was almost dark. The ground had become rockier, less even, and they'd dismounted when they could see the break in the trees ahead. The clearing had been just where Guinevere had instructed straight from the castle, and even if they hadn't known where to look, Emma was certain they would have felt it; the clearing seemed to almost radiate power.

Emma felt her skin prickle, and she zipped up her jacket as they walked past the last tree and into the space. Though the light was nearly gone, what was left seemed to be concentrated, focused solely on the center of the clearing.

Glowing with sunlight, in the middle of the ground stood a large boulder, choppy, as though parts had been chiseled off. A sword stood up straight from the rock, embedded between the jagged slopes. Pure gold glittered in the streaming light, the hilt shining, and as she walked closer, Emma could see a small ring of diamonds imbedded in the pommel. The blade was remarkable—beautiful—but almost plain, at the same time.

"Woah," Henry breathed beside her, and she felt herself warm at the wide-eyed wonder on his face. He stepped closer toward the rock, but didn't touch. Instead he knelt down, eyeing the rock carefully. "Ma, look," he whispered and pointed down low.

"Hmm?" she hummed, following him, and licked her lips as she noticed the words that ran around a small ledge near the base of the rock. "Though many hearts may swell with love," she read aloud softly.

The words disappeared around the other side, and Snow knelt down, reading the rest: "Just the most resilient shall release the dove."

Henry stood up, eyeing the blade in awe. "What does that mean?" he asked, this time palming the stone reverently.

"Arthur was able to pull the sword out years ago because he was the rightful ruler of the land," Snow said, her brows furrowing. "At least, that was the story that got passed around the kingdoms. But this," she trailed off.

"Sounds like something else?" Emma finished. Snow nodded, and Emma traced the words before standing up. "Are we sure this is the right place?"

"Contrary to what you might think," Regina said, hands on her hips, "our world isn't littered with immoveable swords." She stared at the rock, shaking her head as she murmured, "this is it."

"So, we just pull it out?" Henry asked, and reached forward, his hand wrapping around the hilt and tugging before Emma could stop him. She winced, holding her breath as nothing happened.

"Henry," Regina said, voice heavy with concern, but Henry simply dropped his grip and stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Guess I'm not the next King," he joked, though the disappointment on his face was much too real. Emma put her hand on his back, rubbing gently in condolence.

"Do you think—" Snow hesitated, looking up at Regina's quirked brow.

"That it refers to you?" she surmised, her lips snarling at the taste as she scoffed.

Snow's cheeks pinked in shame, and Emma glared over at her. Wondering—not for the first time in the past few days—why they seemed to be getting along less and less. "Hey," Emma said warningly, "it couldn't hurt."

Regina remained silent, tilting her head away as she crossed her arms. Snow shifted, and walked forward hesitantly toward the blade. "It sounds like me and David," she said, swallowing, and avoiding Regina. "And Guinevere told us how our love strengthened this land as well, reuniting her and Lancelot." She tilted a shoulder up, and put a palm on the hilt, breathing slowly. Biting her lip as she closed her eyes, she tugged on the sword, just as Henry had.

And, just as when he had, the blade remained unmoved. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "I guess not."

Emma caught Regina stifling a smirk in the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. "OK, well, there has to be another way. Can we break it out or something?"

Henry and Regina looked at her simultaneously, their faces matching in their exasperation. Henry spoke first, pointing to the words on the rock. "They generally don't write stuff like this if you can just break it out, you know."

"Not to mention the fact that it seems rather obvious such tactics have already been attempted," she gestured to the broken rock.

Emma put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Well it's not like we have a lot of options, considering the only royalty here has already tried." Snow looked over at Regina, but remained quiet at her look.

Regina thinned her lips, before gesturing to the sword. "But our Savior hasn't," she raised a brow. "Go on," she urged when Emma looked at her skeptically. "It couldn't hurt, right?"

Emma took a deep breath and dropped her hands, muttering, "Fine," as she walked around the stone. She placed her palm on the rock for balance, and reached for the hilt with her right hand, curling long—and slightly trembling—fingers around the golden handle. Taking a deep breath—and knowing this was stupid—she pulled.

And the sword slid out, with a soft clink as the metal hit against now-loose stone. The blade was heavy in her hand, but somehow also impossibly light, like it was merely an extension of her arm. The hilt felt warm, from sitting in the sunlight, perhaps, and as she held it closer for inspection, she saw _Clarent_ etch itself slowly on the plain gold guard.

"Woah," Henry breathed again, and Emma looked over to where her son stood beside Regina and Snow, his smile radiant. "That was so _cool_," he said, and Emma snapped out of the moment, stepped away from the rock, still holding the sword.

Snow took a step forward, and set her hand on Emma's arm, looking at the sword. "I knew it, Emma," she said, smiling, and Emma suppressed the urge to point out that—in fact—she hadn't.

The last of the sunlight was fading, the concentrated glow dispersed, leaving the clearing in near dark. "We better set up camp," Regina said from a few feet away, and walked back toward the horses at the edge of the trees.

* * *

They got settled quickly, finding a clear spot by a stream, and getting the tent strung as they had the first night. The fire now going, Emma saw in front of it, holding Clarent loosely in her lap.

"Hey," Henry said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey, kid," she set the sword on the ground, and turned her head to look at him. "Did you get the tent done?"

He pulled his legs up to his chest, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Yeah. But Regina did most of it." He looked over his shoulder where Regina was rolling out the bedding, and asked, quietly, "Do you think she's upset with me?"

Emma turned, her face pulling in shock. "What? Why?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know, she just hasn't been as, I don't know, happy around me? She usually looks at me with this big smile, and laughs at my jokes," he kicked at the ground. "Whatever, it's nothing."

Emma sighed, and put her arm around him. "It's not you, Henry. I think she got pretty upset back in Camelot. I wouldn't worry about it. She seems to think you're pretty great, you know?"

Henry smiled. "She does, right? And in the real way, not like when you 'friends' try to ask me how it's going."

Emma pulled back in mock offense. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

He snorted. "It means you're not as clever as you think you are. And that I really like her." Henry cleared his throat awkwardly. "And that it's OK, you know. If you do, too."

Emma shifted away, dropping her arm. "Oh, I—"

"Don't want to talk about it, just throwing it out there." He started to stand up, but stopped at a crouch and said with a wince, "But maybe you should try and bathe or something, if you're gonna try and win her over."

"Hey, you're no bouquet of roses either, you know, Mr. Puberty."

"Ew, ma," he said, and walked over to Snow, who was digging around in one of the bags by the stream.

Emma laughed softly, and picked up her sword. Henry's comment was ridiculous. Even though she maybe—totally—found Regina attractive, and even though there was definitely something between them—more than magic, she was realizing—it wasn't like she was even remotely interested in "winning someone over".

Besides, they already had one sword; they were halfway to freeing Merlin and getting the hell out of this increasingly messed-up fairytale.

Still, Emma stood, pulling at her wrinkled clothes, and walked over to Regina, crouched by the bedding. "Hey," she said, and Regina looked up, but continued to search through the bag.

Pulling out two carrots, she stood, and looked at Emma. "Did you need something?"

Emma shifted, and pointed at the food. "Hungry? I think Snow's gonna catch some fish."

Regina started to walk away, toward the horses, and Emma followed. "These are for them," she gestured, as she slowed. "Do you need something, Miss Swan?" she asked again.

Emma shrugged, putting her hands in her jacket pockets. "Nope. Uh, do you want some help?" Regina eyed her for a long moment before she broke off the tip of one carrot, and held it out.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked, fully knowing the answer. Emma shook her head. "Alright. Put the carrot in your pocket for the moment," she said, and Emma did. "Did you see how I approached earlier?"

"Yeah," Emma said, "by the neck?"

Regina nodded patiently. "Wait until he looks at you. And watch his ears. He should be listening in your direction." She gestured at her horse. "If his ears are pinned down, or if he stomps, or his tail flicks, he's in distress. Do _not_ approach him, do you understand?"

"OK," Emma said.

Regina took her gently by the arm, and led her to Snow's horse, a foot away. "Is she looking at you?" she asked. Emma waited until she was, and nodded. "And her ears?"

"They're fine," Emma said.

"You have to be calm. Horses are very sensitive," she warned. "Take a deep breath, and step closer." She guided Emma with a hand on the small of her back, and Emma tried not to let the heat rise to her cheeks. "Put both of your palms on her neck, good," she murmured, standing just behind her as Emma followed the instruction.

Emma took slow breaths, smiling gently as the horse looked at her, its lips chewing slightly. "Is that bad?" Emma asked.

"No," Regina said, her voice more relaxed than it had been all day. "She feels comfortable. Now, push off of her a bit, and step back." Emma stroked the course coat for a moment longer before doing as Regina said.

"Very well done, Miss Swan," she said silkily, and Emma felt a small shiver up her spine. "Would you like to feed her?"

Emma nodded, and pulled the carrot out of her pocket. "Just hold it out?" she held her palm loosely, like a cup.

"Flat palm," she corrected, pulling at Emma's fingers gently. "They have quite the _teeth_." She smiled dangerously.

"All the better to eat me with?" Emma asked before she could censor herself, biting her tongue and clearing her throat as Regina's breath quickened.

Holding out her arm, Emma stepped closer to Snow's horse. She nosed at Emma's palm and ate the treat quickly, her tongue leaving slime on Emma's hand. "Uck," she made a face, "as if I didn't need a shower already."

Regina laughed, and walked back toward her horse, holding out the other half of the carrot. The horse ate it quickly, nosing at her palm until she broke a second one and fed him again, tossing the rest to Emma.

With a smile, she fed Snow's horse, before stepping back and joining Regina's side. "There is a small toiletry kit in one of the bags," she murmured, eying Emma with a smirk. "And yes, you should certainly make use of it."

* * *

The stream was _freezing_ . Emma didn't consider herself weak when it came to the physical, but she could barely wash her body and hair before she was jumping out of the water. Shivering, she slipped on the leather vest and pair of pants she had left by the stream, and picked up the tunic, socks and underwear she had sloppily washed and hung over a tree before getting in.

Her long hair dripped water down her back as she walked back into the campsite barefoot, and put her still-wet clothes over a small log by the fire, anxious to get the layers back.

Regina was sitting by the fire alone, her face serious in thought, and Emma cleared her throat. "There's no way you can zap these dry or anything, is there?"

Pursing her lips, she said, seriously, "I'd rather not waste the magic, should we face any trouble."

Sitting down beside her, Emma tugged her knees to her chest, and tried to finger-comb her hair. "Uh, isn't that what I'm for?" she joked lightly.

"And if you're no longer there to help me?" she asked, face unreadable.

Before Emma could process where Regina was coming from, Henry sat down next to her with a big smile. "I caught our dinner," he bragged.

"Did you?" Regina asked playfully, all traces of her seriousness gone for the moment.

"Uh huh," he smiled. "Put the bait on the hook and everything."

"Well, that makes one fish you'll feed," she teased.

Emma furrowed her brow at the comment. "How did—"

"Henry's quite the little hunter," Snow said, proudly, running her hand over his hair as she brought the gutted fish to the fire, putting it on a flat rock.

Regina looked at Henry fondly. "I'm not surprised," she said softly. After a moment, she stood up. "I'm going to try and get some of this dirt off," she plucked at her clothes with a grimace.

"It's really cold, be careful," Emma warned. Regina looked over and simply nodded, before turning to go.

They ate quietly, the fish Henry had caught small but good, and he beamed with pride the entire time. It wouldn't have been a problem if his new-found confidence didn't also mean nonstop talking about if they could fish when they got home, maybe make a trip, go camping, and so on.

"Really, kid? This isn't enough of the great outdoors for you?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "This is different. It's not fun, it's business." Emma eyed him skeptically, a smile creeping across her face, and Henry surrendered. "OK, it's a little fun."

"Yeah, crazy fun running around fairytale land looking for magical swords," she scoffed, as Regina walked back from the stream, and set her own wet clothing down beside Emma's to dry.

Emma couldn't help but look at her, feet bare as Emma's were, in just her pants and the plain shirt she wore beneath her jacket. Her hair hung around her face a bit messily, and she shivered a bit against the cool air. She looked impossibly small in that moment, and Emma reached down behind herself for her red jacket, holding it out to her. "Cold?" she asked, and Regina sniffed.

Henry went back to talking to Snow, and Emma leaned forward a bit, cocking a brow. "C'mon," she urged, and at Regina's murmured, _fine_, she draped the leather over her shoulders. She gave a small smile to Emma, and they sat there, warm, listening to Henry.

* * *

Emma was reluctant to go to sleep. Part of her was tired, knew she'd be able to rest, but another part of her—a bigger part—wanted to stay, wanted to see if Regina was going to talk to her about why she'd been so upset.

They'd all been sitting around the fire for a while, allowing themselves to rest, and idly discussing their plan for the next day. Henry and Snow had both taken turns bathing as well, before returning to the group and sitting down to warm by the fire.

"Henry," Emma prompted, shifting the knee Henry's head rested on.

"Hmmm," he questioned sleepily, looking up at her.

"Go to bed, kid. Hunters deserve their rest."

He smiled up at her. "But it's nice," he murmured. "Like this. With all of us," he added, and Emma caught Regina brushing her almost-dry hair away from her face, suspiciously close to her eye.

"It'll be nice tomorrow. Up," she jostled him again and Regina helped him sit upright, with a hand on his elbow.

Waving half-heartedly, he trudged to the tent, flopping down on the thin mattress. Laughing, Emma shook her head, and leaned her head back on her arm, propped up by a log behind her. "So," she flicked at the grass beside her. "I don't want to jinx anything, but I guess I gotta know." Snow and Regina looked at her. "Can the wraith not get us, here?"

The light air that had surrounded them faded, and Regina's serious face was enough to make her want to take it back. "Never mind, it's—" she tried.

"It can. It can follow anywhere in this land," Regina said soberly. "But the silver buys us a bit of time." She held out her hands. "It tracks by the mark on our hands," she added. "And these gloves are special; they dampen it, among other things."

Emma raised her brow at the last comment, but let it go as Regina continued. "The more we move, the greater our chances of delaying its return. But it's a vicious creature, and it can't be stopped for good."

"Yet," Emma said. "When we finish this, quest, or whatever, we'll free Merlin and he'll stop it. Right?"

Regina looked unconvinced, but Snow reached over, squeezing Emma's hand. "Right."

"Yes, and then you and Henry will go home." Emma's head turned quickly at Regina's voice. She sounded disappointed, almost, and Emma felt her stomach tighten with guilt. Which was ridiculous—they _had_ to go back. Regina knew that—had sent them away in the first place, after all.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Excuse me," Regina said, standing, her arms still stuffed securely into Emma's jacket as she pulled her arms to her stomach and walked over toward the stream.

Emma watched her, her brows tilted in concern. Snow must have noticed, for she put her hand on Emma's wrist gently, and squeezed. "Hey," she gave a crooked smile. "She'll be fine." After a long moment, Snow whispered, "You care about her," so softly Emma could barely hear.

"What?" she asked, but Snow shook her head, not letting it go.

"You do." It was a statement, no room to argue, and Emma felt cornered. But she said nothing more, just dropped Emma's wrist.

Leaning her head forward, arms wrapped tight around her knees, she found her attention straying from the warm fire in front of her to the sometimes-cold woman by the stream. Licking her lips, Emma stood, and gestured toward the water. "I'm just gonna," but Snow nodded slowly, her lips turned down into a resigned frown as Emma walked away.

Regina's back was to her, the red leather looking almost black in the dark, and the moonlight on the stream cast a soft blue tint to it all. Emma slowed, not wanting to startle her, but unsure how to approach.

"I'm not a horse, Miss Swan," she said, looking over her shoulder belatedly. It wasn't an invitation, but it was as good as she would get, and Emma took sure steps forward, before sitting down beside her. "You know, most people take leaving as a sign they'd rather be alone."

Emma angled her legs, pulling them up so her bare feet could lay flat on the grass and holding on to the back of her legs. "I get the feeling you've had enough of that." She said brazenly, as Regina's pursed lips and dark eyes implied. "But then, so have I."

Regina let the comment rest, then, and the two sat in near-silence, the stream quietly running in front of them.

"A part of me wanted to believe that you coming back like this," she kept her eyes forward, watching the water, "meant that it would be a real second chance. That I could start over, with Henry, with you." Emma looked at her curiously, the words heavier than she could understand, but she waited, patiently.

"But even when you're not the Savior," she laughed hollowly, and bounced her head, "you're the Savior." Regina turned her head then, and watched Emma's eyes closely. So closely she felt as though she shouldn't blink. "And I'm the Evil Queen."

Emma jerked her head back a bit, confused. "What?"

"No matter what happens, you will always be the hero, won't you?" Her face was unreadable, caught somewhere between disappointment and awe, and Emma gaped, unsure how to respond. Scoffing, she looked away, her hair falling heavily against her cheek. "That's for the best, I'm sure."

"Wait," she looked down at her legs, trying to sort it out in her head. "You're the _Evil Queen_? That cast the curse to Storybrooke," she said, skeptically. It made little sense with what she knew about the curse, about what had happened to bring it about.

Snow had said Regina lost as much as anyone because of the curse. Had she been talking about something else? Why would Regina have cast a curse to make her lose? None of it made sense.

"I am," she said somberly, Resignation on her face as she looked out at the river. "I am the Evil Queen."

Emma thought back to their conversation in the inn, the way she spoke about the Queen, about how miserable she had been. It was a startling realization, that she hadn't just know, but she had _known_ the meaning of her words.

There was a sneer on her lips, the twist and the moonlight making her scar stand out starkly. Her eyes were dark and lost, wet with unshed tears. Gone was the radiant happiness she had seen from this woman so recently, and back was the haunted beauty that had greeted her in the clearing.

Emma shifted, suddenly unsure of herself, of everything she had been told about her missing memories. Anger prickled hot under her skin, and she tried to block it out, gritting her teeth a bit as she asked, "So why did Snow tell me you were just some sorceress?"

Regina looked over her shoulder, back at Snow, still sitting in front of the fire. She breathed out deeply, and closed her eyes. "I believe she thought herself to be doing me a favor," she spat humorlessly. "Giving me a second chance by keeping my past a secret. Never mind the fact that I've promised myself I would never go down a path of lies and manipulation like that again. That for me, a real second chance means I need honesty." Regina looked at Emma out of the corner of her eye, hesitant to turn toward her fully.

"It means acceptance for who I was and who I am," she whispered, and Emma was unsure if the words were meant for her, or Regina alone. "She considers me _redeemed_ by simply ignoring everything that went wrong between us and trying to sweep it under the rug. By forgetting my mistakes and not taking responsibility for her own."

Emma found herself captivated by Regina's words, how open she was, and her heart pounded when Regina laughed humorlessly, the sound hollow. "It's almost nice, sometimes." She searched Emma's eyes again, watching her closely for something. "I can lose myself in the pretending, even. But it's not real. It's not forgiveness; it's willful ignorance. And I'm sick of needing to be erased to be accepted."

Licking her lips, she hugged ran her arms over the leather sleeves of Emma's jacket. Fingering the cuff, she murmured, "I had forgotten the difference until you came back."

Without waiting for a response, Regina stood, sliding the zipper down on the jacket and tossing it across Emma's lap as she walked away. Emma turned in the grass, looking toward the campsite to find the fire now out. She watched Regina's silhouette move gracefully toward the tent as she picked up her jacket, the leather still warm from Regina's skin.

Head racing, Emma stayed by the stream, allowing Regina a minute alone as she processed it all. Anger and hurt stung at her, as she realized how Snow had omitted something so crucial, and identified with Regina's need to be accepted for who she really was.

Mostly, she thought about the way Regina had looked at her in the inn as she'd empathized with the Queen who cast the curse. How Emma had defended the very woman in front of her and bared her own soul as she'd done it.

Swallowing deeply at the implications, Emma stood, clutching her jacket and moving toward the tent. Regina lay closest to the fabric of the tent, her back turned to Snow beside her, and the blanket pulled up high on her body.

Heart sinking, Emma took the empty spot—farthest from her—and crawled in, placing her jacket beside her gently. After long moments, sleep came.

* * *

The sound of horses neighing woke her. The sky was dark, and as she sat up she felt the air almost ice cold around her. Shivering, she turned, looking around for what had disturbed her, only to be met by the winding whipping quickly on her face.

In an instant Regina sat up, gripping her palm and pulling her glove off. The mark on her hand was burning, her skin turning hot red and the smell of burning flesh filling the air around them.

"Regina," Emma said, panicked, and reached over toward her.

"Don't touch me," she said, voice low and eyes wide. A slow, gurgling growl rang out, and Emma looked up to see the familiar claws and beady red eyes from the first night.

The wraith was back.


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Adventure, Romance