Scour the Earth…For You

Summary: NYC: Emma and Henry are happy, despite confusing dreams of a woman they've never met. FTL: Regina is drowning, between fighting the Wicked Witch and trying to find a way back to her family. Can a miracle help? How will she break through their new memories when she does get to them? Spoilers through 3x11 then AU

A/N: I wrote this story for the Swan Queen Big Bang (April 2014). It was a lot of fun and interesting to write such a long story with actual deadlines and it was cool meeting other writers in the chats and things. I would totally do it again, even with all the stress. I'm in the middle of finals though so now new chapters of Swan and Witch until they're over in another week or so (and even then i still have to write the new chapters). Please enjoy this story though, which is part of the reason for the slow updates on that story.

Thank you very much to Btvsobsessed623 for agreeing to be my beta and chocolate-cream-soldier for providing me with such wonderful cover art. (You can find both of them on tumblr under those user names)

If you want to know more about the Swan Queen Big Bang check them out on tumblr or check the collection on AO3 with all the other awesome writers and artists who contributed to the SQBB.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Part 1: Forgotten Memories

Dreaming of You

She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment the dreams started. They felt familiar, as if she'd had them her whole life and yet, when she really concentrated, she knew it had only been the past few months she'd been getting them. The fact that she had them over and over and over again—and that was strange enough—but it was the nature of them that was really unusual.

Normally, when it comes to dreams, Emma forgot them within five minutes of waking up, tops. Not only was she remembering the dreams, but they felt almost like they were actually memories. Which of course didn't make any sense because she'd never met the woman who now haunted her dreams. She definitely would have remembered her.

At least they were more pleasant than the nightmares, memories really, she still got about certain foster families she had been placed with. Actually, she had been getting rather terrifying dreams where she gave Henry up and lived alone, without him for the last few years of her life.

She tried not to think about those, although sometimes even her powers of denial are no match for the realistic nightmares. She would have to go check on him to make sure he was still asleep in his bed. He always was and she was always able to go back to sleep, soul and worry soothed.

These dreams are not scary like those or the ones based on her actual memories. She can never remember what was going on in the dream, who was there or why, except for one person. A beautiful brunette with big brown eyes, full of pain and sadness. Sometimes the woman is smiling, but it looks like a mask on her face—mostly she seems sarcastic. It's a look Emma finds comforting, which she supposed made dream sense, but when she would wake up and it was still comforting, well—that made less sense. She never spoke and yet sometimes, right as Emma was waking up, she thought she could hear the ghost of once she woke up though, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite remember the sound of her voice.

She always woke up feeling so many different and contradictory emotions: frustrated and grudgingly impressed, confused and interested, worried and angry, worried and sad, hurt and sad, happy, relieved, confused, elated and concerned, and…. Just everything. So perhaps it wasn't a surprise that once she was fully awake, she was struck most by a profound sense of loss, of… She didn't even know what, but it was like an itch or something she could only see from the corner of her eye, that disappeared when she tried to look at it head on. In short, it left her frustrated as hell.

Sometimes she could get back to sleep, although she never dreamed of anything else after dreaming of the woman. Other times she couldn't and so she had begun taking out her sketch pad and drawing, as if getting the woman onto paper might help get her out of her head. Sometimes it was enough for her to get back to sleep, but just as often it ended with her on the fire escape staring out over the city, feeling lonely for someone she had never known.

Mostly, she banished it to the back of her mind during the normal routine of the day with consistent success, an oddity reserved for the dark only. Until, one Saturday morning, Henry came to her and said, "Ma? Can I ask you about something? I've been having these weird dreams…"

-x-x-x-

Shared Dreams

At first, Emma wasn't actually paying a ton of attention to what Henry was saying. It was early and she was waiting eagerly by the coffee pot for that first cup so she could feel less like a zombie. "Sure, kid. What happened in it?"

"Well…" She could picture his face scrunched up as he tried to remember. Henry usually had kind of cool dreams, elaborate with lots of detail, lots of fantasy too—from superhero to swords and sorcery—no showing-up-to-school-without-pants dreams for her kid. She should really pay attention, if only for the entertainment factor.

"Not much really happens, actually," he admitted. "It's mainly about this lady." Emma had chosen that moment to pour her cup of coffee and her mind caught on that last statement. She jerked her hand enough to spill some on the counter, although luckily not any on herself. She tried to ignore her suddenly racing heart and hoped Henry hadn't notice her slip. She turned slightly, he hadn't. He was staring hard at the table, drawing little swirls on the surface still deep in thought.

She turned back around before he looked, carefully mopping up the spill automatically and slowing her breathing because there was no way it was the same woman…right? She waited with bated breath for him to continue as she carefully resumed pouring her cup, suddenly in desperate need of caffeine in order to handle whatever Henry said next.

"I don't know who she is or anything, and I don't think we've met her, but she makes me feel…safe. And important and special."

Emma finally turned around, taking a sip, "Anything else? Come on kid, your dreams normally have more to them that that."

"I know, but I've been having these dreams too," he whined. "That's what's so annoying about them! I can never remember anything actually happening, just what the lady looks like and how she makes me feel." He huffed because if there's anything Henry hates, it's not knowing something. "And she always looks so sad and it makes me wanna….wanna…."

"Give her a hug and make it all okay?" Emma suggested quietly, putting the impulse her dreams always give her into words.

Henry jerked his head up. "Exactly," he confirmed triumphantly.

Emma sat down heavily at their kitchen table, wondering when her life had gotten this strange, because it seems like it is the same woman from her own dreams. She supposed her life had never been simple, it had never quite been sharing-dreams-with-her-son-of-a-mystery-woman-neither-of-them-had-ever-met complicated either. She asked, with a hint of resignation, "What does she look like?"

Henry frowned, "Really pretty. Short brown hair, brown eyes."

Even though she expected it, it was still a shock to realize she was right, "Wait here for a minute, 'kay?" She gulped down the rest of her coffee as he nodded, lost in his own thoughts and not noticing how pale his mother had gone or how worried she seemed over a dream.

Emma jogged to her room to find the small, red notebook she had bought when they got to NYC, something she did whenever they come to a new town. This book was different than the previous ones in that it has the same subject for each of the twenty or so sketches that filled it—and none of them were of the city.

When she got back to the kitchen, she sent it sliding down the table to Henry. Henry looked at the book in confusion as she sat back down before he opened it, curious. He studied the sketched profile of a woman, as always impressed and annoyed he didn't seem to have inherited his mom's drawing ability. Then comprehension dawned and he gaped at the page. "That's her!" he exclaimed, looking up at her in surprise. "Who is she?"

"Beats me."

"But…" He began flipping through the sketchbook. "You have all these pictures of her! Is she someone we met when I was little?"

"Nope, as far as I can remember, we've never met her," Emma admitted.

"But then how…?"

"Here's the thing, I've been having dreams too. Of that woman."

"You… You mean, we've both been having dreams about someone we've never met?" Where Emma seemed freaked out, Henry mostly looked excited.

"Seems like it." Emma put her head in her hands, it was too early for this kind of thing. "I can't believe you're having them too. This was all bad enough when only I was crazy…"

"Hey!" Henry seemed particularly upset at the insinuation he was going crazy, "If anything this proves we're not crazy. Two people can't just both, without talking to each other, make up the same person. We must know her somehow…" He continued to look through the rest of the drawings.

Emma felt a small proud smile on her face at his determined tone. Henry was on a mission now. She wasn't sure what any of this meant, as he began to spout off random theories to her, but she knew the two of them could handle anything together. They'd figure this out. Just like they always did.

-x-x-x-

A/N: There are two other parts, each longer than the last and I'll be posting them soon, just juggling a lot of stuff atm. Thanks for reading.