Had it been an average Saturday morning the promise of two cups of coffee, a mug of hot chocolate and an awaiting hot shower would have to be made for Emma Swan to even consider getting out of bed before 9:00 o'clock, but today was different. Today, Emma had awoken to check her phone three times before she got out of bed. She had laid undercovers tossing and turning for over 45 minutes before the clock hit eight and when it finally did, she didn't yawn as she got up but smiled giddily and raced down her stairs, past her coffee maker, past the radio that she usually needed on to "set ambience" and into the small bedroom that hung off of the kitchen.

Today was Emma's son, and best friend's, fourteenth birthday. And for Emma Swan, who fell pregnant at seventeen and lived as a single mother ever since, her only child turning fourteen was a big deal.

With a flick of her wrist, Emma ceremoniously flipped on the light in his bedroom and looked around. Henry's room was full of books and clocks and posters of faraway lands. On the wall closest to his bed hung an assortment of Harvard paraphernalia; flags, postcards and sweatshirts.

Harvard was the dream, the thing they had talked about and aimed for since he was too young to understand what college was. With Henry's recent acceptance into Chilton, that dream had become one small step closer to reality.

She was proud of her son, and proud of herself for creating the life she now had. People had doubted her along the way but at this point everything was working out and she wouldn't trade her current life for anything. The first years as a mom had been the hardest she ever experienced and deep inside she felt that she had the right to be proud.

She glanced down at her son and smiled before nudging him on the shoulder.

"Happy birthday, kid."

Henry rustled and squinted his eyes at the bright lights. The sight of his mom at his bed side threw him for a moment and he turned to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table to know if he should be concerned.

"Mom, its 8:15 in the morning. On a Saturday" He said, with a sleepy voice.

"I know, but it's your birthday and I can't believe how fast you're growing up."

"It doesn't feel fast."

Emma let out a dry laugh and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Trust me, it is. So, what do you think of life so far?" she asked him. This exchange was a birthday tradition of theirs that dated back to the year after Henry had learned to talk.

"It's pretty good"

"Anything you want me to take care of?"

"I am not crazy about that whole deforestation thing." Henry said as he climbed to the side of the bed, so that he was sitting beside his mother, and wrapped his blankets around his shoulders so that he was wearing them like a cape, in an attempt to shield himself from the cold morning.

Emma laughed at his answer. Deforestation. It was such a Henry thing to say.

"I'll put my best guys on it. You wanna know what I think? I think you're a cool kid and the best son a mom can have and I am so proud of you" She said as she hugged his side.

"Thanks mom."

"And I can hardly believe that just 14 years ago at this exact time I was chained to a bed, in prison, with a stomach like a beach ball-"

"You're so gross" Henry shook his head and laughed. Emma smiled good-naturedly and continued telling her story.

"Shh I am getting to the best part. So I am chained to the bed, yelling and crying, thinking that there was no way I could pull this off, when I am handed five pounds of pink flesh. And though the pregnancy was nothing less than torture, holding you was the single most amazing moment of my life"

"Right up until.." Henry continued, bobbing his head along with familiarity of her story. He'd heard it at least fourteen times before.

"Right up until the nurse turns on Raiders of the Lost Ark. At 8:15 in the morning. And I don't mean she flipped the channel and it happened to be playing, I mean she got the DVD from god knows where and put it in the player. After I had just given birth. You of all people know how much I love Raiders of the Lost Ark but come on, there is a time and a place for these kind of things and 8:00am in a maternity ward is sure as hell not one of them."

Her voice rose animatedly as she told the story. Fourteen years later and she still could not believe that woman. She looked back at Henry for support and he nodded, though Emma believed that at least half of the gesture was done to avoid getting in another fight about 'how hard nurses work' and how 'they don't operate on the same hours as a lot of people' and that 'maybe Emma should have just let her watch the movie' because this was one thing she would not agree with him on. When it was clear he wasn't going to go there she continued.

"But of course I am the one who has to pay for the broken television. On the bright side, that is where I got your name but you were so close to being called Indiana.."

"I'm sure the kids at Chilton would have loved that. I wonder if the Camden's ever did this?"

"That freaky chore wheel family from Seventh Heaven? I doubt they would have the time what with all the creepy, fire and brim stone preaching."

The town of Storybrooke was an idyllic hamlet on the coast of Maine that, thankfully, leaned more towards homely then eerie or Stephen King-esque. It held a list long of never repeated "annual festivals" such as dances and fairs.

Although Emma often mocked the town, it was the strong sense of community that had originally drawn a seventeen year old Emma Swan, recently released from prison with a newborn and a longing for place that felt like home, to settle there. That it happened to be the home of the best hot chocolate in the world was only an added bonus, but one that Emma and Henry were more than willing to take advantage of.

Neal's diner was a regular stop for the Swans. He served delicious food and great hot chocolate at deceivingly low prices and due to that winning combination, the man himself had become a fast friend to the small family.

Neal had lived in Storybrooke his entire life. Even in a town full of long term residents, Neal stood out as especially stationary. He had a commitment to the past and to the memory of his father, which seemed contradictory to his charming and easy personality but none the less, dictated his life.

Emma had never met Neal's father but she remembered the story well. Several years before she came to town Neal's father, an intimidating but well respected pawnbroker, had passed away just as Neal was planning to leave for college. Something in Neal died with him. The relationship between the two hadn't been on good terms for a while. Neal had blamed his father for his mother's absence and that, combined with teenage rebellion, made the relationship tense. Just before he died Neal ran away and the two never had the chance to reconcile.

It was theorized by the town rumor mill that that regret was why Neal had stayed in town and converted his father's storefront into a diner.

It was a rumor that, if he had been asked, Neal would have called too dramatic. He liked creating things and making people happy. Some people might not think of diner food as an art but done right, it could make someone's day and best of all you didn't need to study for four years to be good at it. He didn't make his choice out of some misguided sentimentality, he would say, but because it was the right path for him.

Still, despite his protests against the charges of nostalgia, he refused to remove his father's sign off the overhead despite numerous complaints.

Emma and Henry entered the diner in the middle of the morning rush. They both groaned when they saw how busy it was. They had a full day ahead of them and the last thing they wanted was to get stuck at the first stop, waiting for food.

"Okay kid, go find us a seat. I'll get our food."

Henry nodded his head in agreement and began to scan the diner for people who looked like they were about to leave.

"Alright. Don't be too hard on Neal."

"Me? Hard on Neal? You have such little faith in me." She said, shaking her head with amusement.

"Mom?"

"Okay, I'll go easy on him. Jeez, turning fourteen has made you bossy."

Henry frowned dramatically and walked off to find a table. Emma shook her head and approached the counter where Neal stood passing plates of food to the people who had given up all hope of finding a table and took a seat, elbow to elbow, with the other losers at the diner's bar.

Neal smiled when he saw Emma coming towards him. It was no secret that he was fond of the woman. She was strong and independent and funny and he admired her like he had never admired anyone before. There was no denying that she was beautiful but that was not even half of what drew him towards her. She just had the type of nature that made anything seem possible. While Neal was never an unhappy man, being around Emma made everything seem brighter.

At times it seemed like everyone in Storybrooke had noticed his school boy crush on the single mother except, of course, Emma Swan herself.

He thought about asking her out but the last thing he wanted to do was to make a move and have Emma feel uncomfortable especially if that doubt would be enough to convince her that the friendship they had formed was nothing but a cruel ruse to get her into bed. After all, she wasn't just a crush, but a part of his life and he didn't want to lose that.

"Hey Emma. So, Henry's birthday. Time flies, right?" He asked.

"It really does. I can't believe fourteen years ago I had a kid. Geez, I can't believe it's been 12 years since I brought the bug off of you."

Neal chuckled at the memory. Emma was nineteen when they first me. She approached him, toddler clinging to her side, asking to buy the broken down Beetle that had sat in front of the diner for as long as Neal could remember. He had sold it to her for a hundred bucks and the promise to help her dispose of it when it inevitably broke down. 14 years later and Emma had yet to cash in on the second part of their deal.

"I can't believe the bug still works. It was falling apart when you offered to buy it. I didn't think you'd get it down the street, but you made it happen."

"Well, you know me, if I want something to work I will use my sheer force of will to make it".

"Hell yeah you will. So can I get you anything?" He said with a smirk, as he grabbed his notepad out of his jacket pocket and clicked the tip of his pen.

"Two hot chocolates and heavy on the cinnamon please, we've got a long day of birthday celebrations ahead of us. Two serves of choc chip pancakes, extra chocolate sauce, a side plate of fries and um a bagel." Emma said, listing the foods off of her fingers.

Neal cocked his head to the side and licked his teeth in disbelief, a motion that Emma took particular notice of.

"That is way too much chocolate for just two people," he said skeptically.

"Two amateur's maybe. Henry and I are chocolate professionals. We can eat far more than the average beginner. And we both need all of this, especially the hot chocolate and cinnamon, to begin our day."

"Okay." Neal was still shaking his head as he wrote the order.

"Thanks. And if you could just put a candle in the bagel that would make you the best guy in town." She said, making a begging gesture with her hands.

Neal's eyebrows rose.

"A birthday bagel?"

"Yeah. It's a thing.

"Of course it is. Okay, one birthday bagel coming up."

"Thanks, Neal. You're the best" Emma said with casual ease, before getting off the stool and walking over to the table Henry had managed to secure off an old couple who, through no fault of Henry's, suddenly had the desire to go home and check on their oven.

"Alright, kid. I am thinking we hit the video store first. We pick up some games, rent a couple of DVD's before we go to the arcade. Then we take a couple hours break, during which I have to go to the office to file some paper work on a perp and you'll go meet with Grace for whatever teenage debauchery you two come up with then we meet back at our house at six thirty and go to Hartford for Saturday night dinner." Emma said.

Henry nodded his head in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan."

Behind them Neal appeared, walking with an impressive amount of grace for a grown man juggling two mugs and three plates on his body. The Swan's noticed him struggling so Emma leaned over and grabbed her plate of pancakes off of his arm.

"Here you go. Two hot chocolates, two chocolate pancakes and one birthday bagel, for the birthday boy." Neal said, placing the bagel with a candle in it in front of Henry.

Henry looked down at the bagel. His eyes dimmed with dry amusement and he turned to look at Neal.

"Did my mom put you up to this?"

"What?"

"A birthday bagel?" He said, gesturing to the plate in front of him.

"She said it was a 'thing'".

Emma giggled from her side of the table. She had avoided being a part of the conversation until that point but wanted to get in on the good natured teasing.

"It is a thing and Henry knows exactly what that is."

Her son shook his head and blushed slightly.

"You're never going to let me forget it, are you?" Emma only giggled and Henry turned towards Neal "But thanks, Neal. This all looks great."

"I want you to have a good birthday. You're a good kid and you deserve it." And he truly meant it. Through their regular visits, Neal had come to see Henry as a son. He had witnessed most of the boy's firsts, lending assistance wherever he could, and he was as proud of the fourteen year old who sat in front of him as Emma was.

He slapped Henry's shoulder as he passed him on the way back to the counter and waved a hand of acknowledgment when he heard the fourteen year old yell out another thanks.

The Swans finished their breakfast quickly, idle discussion about the day bounced around the table. Topics of any level of seriousness were purposely avoided and instead the duo spoke of what birthday presents Henry had received, what Grace and he had planned for later and Emma's latest attempt to teach Anna how to tackle bail jumpers without using a weapon. When a comfortable silence fell over the table they decided it was time to move to their next stop.

As they were preparing their exit (Emma paying the bill and Henry shifting through the contents of his backpack) Emma received a text. She considered not reading it because she didn't want to have to ditch Henry on his birthday to catch a perp but, if it was important, she knew she couldn't leave Anna hanging. Sighing with annoyance she pulled the phone out and read over the message.

What she saw was both a relief and an annoyance to the blonde.

"Ugh seriously? It's my mother."

Henry looked at Emma, expectantly. He knew his mother had a difficult relationships with her parents but the thought of her actually resenting the thought of seeing them made him feel more then a tad guilty. After all, it was his birth that caused the rift and his schooling that was forcing the reunion.

"What did she say?"

"She wants to make sure we're still coming over today."

"You told her yes, right?"

"Yeah. I did" Emma said with a sigh, her fingers flicking over the keys of her phone.

She didn't really want to spend the night with her parents but her parents had only agreed to pay for Henry's school on the condition that the two of them spent one night a week at their house. There was no way she would have been able to pay for it by herself (she knew. She had looked into it. Extensively) and short of returning to a life of crime (which she had also briefly considered) this was the only option available to her. So she had swallowed her pride and agreed because she knew she would do anything for her son.

"I don't get why you don't want to go. Grandma and grandpa seem great and they really want to see you." Henry said, his eyes doing that wide, puppy dog thing.

Emma looked at her son for a moment. He was a good kid and showed a thoughtfulness beyond his years at times but he was also naïve and sheltered in a way that Emma had never been.

Unwavering love and support was all he had ever known. She had made it her goal in life to always be there for him, no matter what. He would never go without or feel alone. Her parents weren't like that and their relationship was nowhere near as fluffy. No matter how hard her tried she knew he would never really understand it and that was something she was grateful for.

Still, she didn't want to deprive her son of anything, including a relationship with his grandparents.

"They-um-they are great, Henry. I never want you to think they're not great. It's just things are complicated. We didn't really get to meet each other until I was older and then I went to prison and things were.. tense. Our personalities are just.. so different. For them, everything seems like some kind of fairy tale. That isn't how I lived. My life was hard and I can't just pretend that it wasn't."

"Okay, but I don't think they want you to pretend. They just want to know you." He was trying to be a diplomatic as possible.

Emma shook her head in response and looked down.

"It's complicated, kid. I don't want you to worry about it though. The stuff between me and my parents goes further back than you. And, regardless of how I feel, we are going to be there tonight, and every Saturday night in the foreseeable future, so there is no point talking about it."

She reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

"I know, but I wish you wanted to see them instead of feeling forced to."

"I do too but sometimes things don't work out like that. Let's not worry about it, it's your birthday. We'll see my parents later and I promise everything will be fine." She shot Henry a smile and the message was clear. For all intents and purposes this conversation over.

Henry looked a little unsatisfied but nodded his head in absent agreement.

His mother wasn't looking at him anymore. Her attention had drifted to the far corner of the diner where a flannelette clad Neal served a young man a plate of eggs.

"What do you think about Neal?" She asked.

Henry had not been expecting the change in topic, in his mind he was still running over the conversation that had just ended. His response was hollow.

"Uh, Neal's great. Serves great food. He seems like a good guy."

Emma looked on with a soft smile on her face as Neal poured coffee and bantered with an elderly couple.

"Yeah he does, doesn't he?"

Henry's head turned, alternating between the sight of Neal doing his job and the almost dreamy look on his mother's face. He looked at her with a sudden amount of seriousness.

"Mom, no." He said, the sternness of his voice bringing Emma out of her daydream.

"What?"

"You can't think about dating Neal. Not just as some casual side thing. We eat here every day and Neal is, like, a part of our life. If you were to just date him and decide that you didn't really like him, it would ruin everything. We'd have to find a new place to eat and everything would be so awkward."

"Okay. Calm down I never said anything about dating Neal. Just you know, he is a great guy." She said, in a forced tone of casualness.

Henry looked unconvinced.

"Fine. A great, un-dateable, guy."

Mifflin Street in upper Maine was something out of a modern fairytale. The streets were cobblestones and lined with a well-manicured row of miniature trees. The houses were intimidating in size but purposely designed to give someone looking in a sense of comfort. They conjured up images of families in designer polos and sweatshirts teamed with khaki slacks and skirts sitting down to roast dinners where the latest country club scandal was discussed. Images of Christmas Eve's spent getting drunk off egg nog and trips to Aspen, all the hallmarks of the rich and bored. The American dream, available to anyone lucky enough to be born into it.

Technically Emma Swan was one of those people, but fate and a string of questionable choices had removed Emma from what was once considered her destiny and now she was much an outcast as anyone else born outside the black iron gates.

The beat down, bright yellow bug stood out like neon sign amongst the Victorian architecture. Both were whimsical but in different ways, the bug off kilter and the streets far more saccharine. As she parked Emma could imagine the neighbors looking out on to the street and wondering which of their contemporaries service staff had forgotten to use the back entrance.

"My parents are going to kill us." She said, pulling up to the curb and doing her best to fix her rumpled appearance. She ran her hand through her hair and scrutinized herself in the rearview mirror. In truth she was only marginally disheveled but the thought of seeing her parents always managed to work her into a minor freak out.

"You're the one who wanted to stop at McDonalds for milk shakes." Said Henry.

"Well you're the one who spotted that book store and just couldn't leave".

Henry faltered. He knew she was right, the fast food was a small detour but the stop at the book store had gone on much longer than anticipated, not that he could bring himself to regret it when he looked back at the pile of books Emma had brought for him.

"Well...it's my birthday." He said, lamely. Emma nodded, allowing him this victory.

"Fine, you win this one, kid. Alright. If my parents ask, we had car trouble."

"What if they can smell the fast food on us?"

"My parents are good but even they aren't that good. No way can they smell fast food on a person hours after it was eaten." Emma said, sounding more convinced then she felt. She sniffed her sleeve and then shook her head. No. They couldn't possibly smell that on her. There was nothing to smell.

The duo exited the car and made their way up the long driveway. Neither spoke until they were standing in front of a large chestnut oak door that was easily twice the size of the one they had at home.

Emma took a deep breath. Inside her mind she was fighting off the stupid feelings of being an awkward and screwed up fourteen year old which always attempted to drown her when she thought of going home and, now that she was actually doing it, were attacking her with triple force.

Almost immediately she could hear the sound of high heels racing across a marble floor. In seconds, the heavy door was pulled open by a petite, black haired woman who wasted no time before launching herself around Emma in a desperate hug.

Emma struggled for a few moments, choking on the smell of Chanel No. 5 until the older woman pulled away, smoothed out her skirt as if suddenly embarrassed by her overt display of affection, and welcomed them inside.

Emma noticed how little her mother, Mary Margaret, or Snow as the social register referred to her, had changed since she had last seen her in person years ago. Even now, in her early fifties she held herself as a princess. A mixture of childish giddiness and sophistication that Emma had never been able to achieve. For a brief second she wondered if her father, David, had managed to avoid the effects of aging as well as her mother, before pangs of nerves in her stomach reminded her that she would soon find out.

"Emma, Henry. You came. It was getting so late we weren't sure if you had changed your mind." She said, her eyes still focusing on her daughter.

Emma shifted, uncomfortable from the amount of attention Mary Margaret lavished upon her.

"Nope. We just had car trouble."

Mary Margaret nodded her head and gave Emma a light smile, before taking Emma and Henry's coats. She held them both in her hands, before sniffing the air (a gesture that reminded Henry of the same one his mother had made in the car minutes earlier) and frowning slightly.

"Does something smell.. greasy?" Snow asked.

With an act of unfortunate chance, her question was answered when a fast food wrapper fell out of a coat pocket and landed on her pristine floors. The realization dawned on Mary Margaret that her guests had eaten before their arrival and her face noticeably dimmed for a brief second before she quickly plastered over her disappointment with a small smile.

"Oh well, I hope you're not too full. We've kept dinner on hold for you two. I am just so glad you're both here."

She led the younger two generations of the Swan family out of the mansions foyer and into the dining room. As they made their way through the house, Henry took in the sight with a barely restrained amount of awe. While he was not one to usually be impressed by riches (he never felt jealous of the finer things kids with two parents could afford) to be in a house so beautiful and to imagine it as not only belonging to a member of his family but as the place where his own mother grew up gave it a sense of wonder. Emma, however, did not share her son's sense of enchantment and felt nothing but the repression she remembered living under during her brief stay.

In the dining room, reading over the sport section of the latest paper, sat a handsome gentlemen with the refinement of a king but the down to earth nature of a farmer. He laughed at a political cartoon lampooning a rival sports team's recent string of loses and only glanced up for a second when he heard footsteps approaching. When the realization dawned on him that today was the day of Emma's visit he did a double take at the empty door way.

When his wife, daughter and grandson finally entered the room he promptly put down his newspaper and stood up, having to restrain himself from jumping into a hug similar to the one his wife had given earlier.

"Emma. You're here…. And Henry, you too. Um Happy Birthday." He said with a smile.

Mary Margret walked over to her husband, standing opposite Henry and Emma, and took his hand in hers. Both of them beamed proudly.

"Yes, happy birthday. We…we got you something" She turned to the table and picked up a present wrapped in crisp blue wrapping paper and accentuated with a silver bow.

"Oh, you guys didn't have to do that" Henry said looking at the package and shifting awkwardly. He barely knew his grandparents and while the gesture was sweet accepting gifts from them seemed wrong in some way.

"Yeah, you've already done so much by paying for Henry's school and all."

"No, we wanted to. I know we haven't really been a presence in each other's lives but we are hoping for that to change." Said David making an unwrapping motion with his hands and shooting the boy an encouraging smile.

Carefully, Henry unwrapped the present making sure not to rip any of the paper, afraid that doing so would offend his grandparents. A large leather bound book with the words Once Upon A Time eventually revealed itself. Henry flipped through the pages delicately, taking notice of the impressive artwork and fine lettering. He wondered how old and expensive it was. It was surely some sort of family heirloom given the obvious craftsmanship that went into making it.

Mary Margaret and David looked on with joy at their grandson's reaction to the book but Emma let out a snort that she would later claim was unintended.

"Something wrong?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Fairy tales? He is fourteen, mom. Not five."

Henry tried to bring some peace to the situation by thanking his grandparents for the gift and talking about how much he liked it but both his mother and grandmother ignored him.

"Everyone needs hope in life, especially teenagers. And what is a better bringer of hope then fairy tales?" Snow said, and as she spoke, her voice took on the reverent tone of someone telling a profound a story, an effect that only further annoyed Emma.

"Yeah, because when I think of hope I think of cursed apples and antiquated gender roles."

"Emma, I know that you never took to optimism but that doesn't mean that Henry won't."

Emma frowned at Snows light scolding and involuntarily jerked away from her mother.

"I never took to optimism because that isn't what my life was like and you two would have known that had you been there." She said.

This time it was David's turn to speak and he too took on the same disapproving parental voice that Snow had used just moments earlier.

"Emma, we wanted to be there but you wouldn't let us and by the time we did it..We only had months before you were.. in jail and pregnant."

"I know. I am the screw up. The prodigal daughter who returns to shame the family name but you could have kept in contact. Even prisons allow letters, phone calls and visits." Emma's voice got louder and harsher, her body vibrating with angry that seemed to have risen from some deep contaminant where she had kept it chained for the past fourteen years. Standing there and listening to her parents preach about hope, ignited a resentment in her that she thought had died long ago.

"We're sorry. We didn't think you'd want to see us after what happened. We want to make it up to you now. We want to be a part of both of your lives." Snow attempted to take Emma's hand into her own, to comfort her daughter and stop her from leaving, but the gesture backfired and at the sense of their skin touching Emma once again jerked away from her. She then picked up her bag and walked toward the door.

"This was just too soon. I've - We've got to go."

"Emma please don't leave."

Henry watched on with a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment. He knew his mother's relationship with her parents wasn't the best but things had escalated so quickly and Emma seemed more upset then he had seen her in a long time.

He made his way to follow his mom, calling out to her as she stormed through the foyer.

"Mom, come on. Wait up."

Emma did not stop her stride until she reached the door and put her jacket back on. She saw Henry following her, the book still in his hand, and felt a pang of guilt at the sight but the quiet murmuring of her parents in the other room acted as a fresh log to the fire, reigniting the angst inside of her.

"Will you be back next week? You promised you would come every week." She heard her mother call out as she opened the door. She considered all the ways she could answer that question, a few even managed to bring a smile to her face, but ultimately their deal rang through her head and she hated the idea of being in debt to her parents more then she hated the idea of seeing them again.

Like a stubborn child, she gritted her teeth together before calling out her parting words.

"We'll try again next week."

Back in the safety of the yellow bug Emma and Henry sat in silence. In her head, Emma replayed the encounter with her parents over and over. She had overreacted. She knew she had overreacted. They wanted to give Henry a present and they are his grandparents, they had the right to do that. And Henry likes books so it's not even like they messed up in selecting a gift. But the sight of it, of this big book of fairy tales, and them standing there, looking on with these big, proud smiles watching him unwrap this present they felt so good about. The two of them acting as if this was the happy ending they were entitled to, instead of the arrangement they had forced upon her. The whole thing had just set her off. How could they think, after everything that had happened between them, that things could just be normal? That they would all just have dinner and everything would go back to the way it was more than a decade ago?

She gritted her teeth at the thought of it. Was this what it was going to be like for the next four years until Henry graduated? Her parents playing pretend and her freaking out every week. She didn't know if she could do that. The thought of it was just so clawing. Even now the frustration demanded that she take action so she banged her open fist on the steering wheel in a futile display of irritation.

Henry looked at her with wide eyes. She noticed he seemed unsettled and given the circumstances she couldn't really blame him.

"Mom, what is wrong with you? What happened in there? Grandma and grandpa were really trying and you just went off on them."

Emma turned her head to look out the window and, more importantly, away from him. She put the key in the ignition and turned. The motor started for a second but then stalled. Emma let out a sign of frustration. Great.

"It was nothing."

"It was not nothing. You were so rude to them and they were just trying to be nice. I think you're going to -"

Henry's words carried with them a sense of judgment that cut down to Emma's bones. She couldn't hear what he was saying but the chastising way he raised his voice at certain points felt like a slap to the face. She could feel her eyebrows knitted together in a frown, her face stuck stone cold, but she didn't feel angry. She felt sad.

"They didn't call. They never sent a letter or made a visit or anything. I kept waiting to hear from them and nothing ever came. I was seventeen, incarcerated and pregnant and they didn't even try and contact me until I got out. They promised they wouldn't leave me again and they lied and I can't just pretend that didn't happen."

Her speech began as screaming, the yelling of a mother telling her kid off, but by the time she reached the end her frown had broken, her eyes were red and she was crying.

Henry hadn't seen his mother cry, not really. He had seen her teary eyed when she stubbed her toe and once he'd come home from school and her eyes had been blood shot and tissues were thrown about the kitchen table and the Wizard of OZ was playing on the television but when he asked what was wrong, she said that it was just allergies acting up and went to go take a shower. He wasn't an idiot, he figured she must have been crying, but he didn't actually see it.

Witnessing her sobbing and gasping for breath in one of those painful, trying-to-refrain-yourself crying bouts, took the boy back. He winced at the knowledge that he was at least partially responsible for his normally badass mom's break down. Emma was a strong person. She didn't cry for just any reason. He'd seen her insulted by some of the other moms at his old school for not being able to participate in PTA or do other activities they thought made someone a good parent and she didn't even wince. If this thing with him and her and her parents caused her to break down then it must be worse than he had thought.

"I'm sorry mom." He said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her red leather jacket and reached over to hug him.

"It's not your fault, kid. I'm sorry for ruining your birthday."

"It's not ruined. Dinner wasn't great but the rest of the day was. And look, it's only 9:30. You've still got two and a half hours to steal all my presents and throw out my birthday cake."

Emma smiled in that goofy, red cheeked, way that can only be achieved in the fleeting moments between breaking down and pulling yourself together.

"Oh shit, your cake. We left before dessert. You didn't get your cake."

"It's fine. Neal's is better anyway."

Emma smiled and this time when she turned the key her car started.

Neal's diner would never grace the pages of Home and Lifestyle. It was cramped, and small and overloaded with old signs and trinkets and chipping paint. But in the small, roadside bistro, where the coffee was hot and the conversation quick, Emma and Henry celebrated their fourteenth year as a family in the company of good friends and they had never felt better.

Okay, so this is my first chapter story though I have plans to publish more in the near future. It's also my first Swan Fire story, so any notes on characterization, especially regarding Neal, would be helpful, he is tricky to get down and I worry that I make him too much like Luke at times but I think it's a little better in the next chapter. In the future chapters won't be this long. This was really just to set up some of the dynamics and lay down a bit of history between the characters.

Reviews are not a requirement but they are very much appreciated.