SO THIS IS AN IDEA THAT CAME TO ME. NOTHING SPECIAL.

DON'T OWN IT.

My life is a soap opera, Emma Swan thinks to herself. If Henry's right, then I just arrested my mother for murdering my stepmother, and my son –who I shouldn't even know- convinced me that she is being framed by my step-grandmother, his adoptive mother, who also murdered my grandfather, and then killed my boyfriend (who was also her boyfriend), after she tried to get him to kill my mother.

"I really should've stayed in Boston." Emma groans, putting a hand to her head –which she's sure his about to split open. She sits in the apartment she shares with Mary Margaret, and it feels very lonely. And now she can feel the panic building, and clenches her fists, trying to fight it. It's not often that Emma has panic attacks, but when she does, they're bad. She hasn't had one since Graham's untimely death, but even that one was minor (although she's pretty sure her roommate would beg to differ). As always, she loses the battle and gives in to the tears, sobs wracking her body. She keeps thinking back to when she was three, and taken away from the place she had happily called 'home' for three years.

FLASHBACK

"Hey Mommy!" Emma comes running into the living room, a board game in her arms. She looks at her parents and frowns. Emma knows she's adopted -she's known since she can remember- but they had allowed her to think of them as her parents. Really, that's what they were; they took her out all the time, and gave her everything she wanted and were always nice. She looks at them, and her frown deepens. Her dad is crying, and he never cries. Something is definitely wrong. In the past few months her mom had been crying over the littlest things, especially sweet things. Instead of asking them to play a game, she asks, "Is everything okay?" She is very perceptive for a three year old.

"Emma-" Her mom's voice breaks, and fresh tears streak down her face.

"You know how we said Mommy has a little person inside of her?" Her dad asks.

"Yeah." Forgetting the game, Emma places it on the floor and sits between her parents. Though she doesn't understand what's going on, she does know that it's serious.

"Well, I lost my job, Honey. We have to do what's right for you. You can't stay with us anymore, Emma. It won't be safe for you."

"We can't support two children anymore. At first we thought we could, but we can't." Her mom has finally stopped crying.

"Oh." She simply says, not knowing what else to say. She wants to make them better, to make them stop crying, so she pretends to be okay. Then maybe it'll be easier on them.

"We're so sorry, Emma." Her mother wraps her in a hug, and the doorbell rings. She can feel her mom start to cry again, her body shaking. Her dad gets up to answer the door. He brings a middle-aged woman with red hair and too-bright lipstick in.

"Hi Emma, I'm Nancy." The woman smiles, but Emma knows it's fake. "Whatever you can fit into that bag by the door, you can take with you." Nancy gestures to the white front door. The bag isn't awfully small, but it certainly won't fit everything Emma has. Again, she is at a loss for words, but finally manages,

"Okay." She gets up and slowly trudges up the stairs, tears she had been holding in finally breaking out of their dam. After what seems like an awfully short time –even though it had been almost an hour, she couldn't choose what to bring- she comes back down. She packed a few clothes, some toys, and most importantly, her baby blanket. She wanted to bring so much more, but no matter how many times she sat on the suitcase, it couldn't fit everything.

"You ready?" Nancy asks, standing up and smoothing her skirt. Emma wants to yell, and kick and scream, but she doesn't; she reminds herself that she's more grown-up than that. She's mad, though. They're trading her for their biological child? She still can't quite wrap her head around that.

"If you want to put the bag in the car, I'll be out in a minute." Emma doesn't want this woman around for her final moments with her family.

"Alright." Nancy nods, and does as Emma asked. Her mother and father get up and pull her into an embrace, the baby bump showing slightly. 'I love you' is muttered from each of them through tears. When they pull back, Emma places a kiss on her mother's stomach.

"We'll find you and get you back, Emma." Her dad promises. He lied.

The scene repeats itself in Emma's head over and over again. Each time, it brings a fresh onslaught of tears. Finally, she runs a hand over her face. Get it together, you're being pathetic, she tells herself. She takes a few calming breaths, trying to even out her breathing. You're not alone. You have Henry, and Ruby, and even August. So stop blubbering and think about how you're going to get Mary Margaret out of this. She doesn't have any ideas, and that's never a good start. She pushes herself off the couch and walks to her room. She passes Mary Margaret's and glances in, imagining the brunette was sitting on the bed grading papers instead of sitting in the jail cell. Emma had tried to spend the night, but Mary Margaret insisted that she go home. Though the woman was small, she could be quite convincing when she wanted to be. Emma continued on her journey, and entered her messy, undecorated room. However, she easily found the cream-colored blanket she was looking for, and gently picked it up. She curled up on the bed, not even taking her shoes off. Whether it was from the swollen eyes or pure exhaustion, Emma fell into a restless sleep, full of Evil Queens and small, quaint towns.

I WASN'T REALLY SURE WHERE THIS WAS GOING TO GO, BUT I FIGURED I'D WRITE IT. I'D LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU GUYS THINK! ALSO, I JUST UPDATED ONCE UPON A TIME, IN A LAND FAR FAR AWAY.