For as long as she can remember ever having tasted alcohol, Emma Swan's favorite drink was rum-laced coconut water. Not coconut juice, not that Malibu Rum crap. Coconut water.
Every time she managed to find a restaurant or bar that would serve it to her or she prepared one for herself at home, she'd dig into the hidden corners of her mind trying to figure out just where the hell had that come from, because she doesn't even remember tasting it for the first time. It's like some innate truth about her. It was definitely not something she had picked up from any of the foster families that had taken her in over the years, not any friends from school, not Neal – no, Neal was a beer man, she recalled. She could never drink beer again after she finished her sentence and got Henry back with the help of a social worker. Go figure.
That evening, after driving almost six hours from the coast of Maine to reach the loft she shared with Henry in the middle of Manhattan, all she could think about was taking off her shoes and bra, send her son to the shower and relax on the couch with a glass of what she thought of as a sense of comfort and belonging in the form of a drink. True, it had been nice whisking her boy away to the middle of nowhere without phones and computers and anything of the sort for an entire weekend, just the two of them, without any outside interference, but as they drove home she couldn't help but feel like something was suddenly missing. She wasn't exactly sad, for Henry's presence would always be a source of immense happiness to her, but it was like something had been taken from her. From them, actually. The moment the alcohol touched her lips, though, was when Henry came out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe with a smile. "All yours, mom!" The sight of her little guy and the taste of her drink shoved all negative thoughts away and as she licked her lips she felt a familiar warmth within her. Just the right amount of rum this time..well done, Swan, she thought to herself as she put the empty glass in the kitchen sink and went towards the bathroom for her own shower. The clock over the counter marked 8.15 pm.
[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]
Phoenx, Arizona, the women's ward at the State Correctional Complex's Medical Center. Bound to the bed by shackles around her ankles, a devastated 18-year-old Emma refuses to even look at her newborn. She had decided that giving him up for adoption was his best chance.
"Emma, just so you know…you can change your mind."
"No. I can't be a mother."
And that was it. Without ever laying her eyes on Henry even once, she made the doctor take him away for his own sake…and for hers.
[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]
Emma woke up sweaty and terrified. She leapt out of bed and went straight to Henry's room, who met her halfway there. He was also sweaty and startled and mother and son were hugging each other as tightly as they possibly could.
"Are you okay, kid? Are you feeling anything?"
"I…I'm fine… Mom? What happened?"
"I just had a bad dream, I dreamt that…you know what, it's fine, we're good, you're here and it wasn't real. It doesn't matter. What about you, did you have a bad dream too?"
"Yeah, I guess…I don't even remember it though. Let's just go to bed again, we'll be fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Good night, kid."
"Good night, mom."
As Henry went back to his room and got on the bed, he felt a little bad for having lied to his mother, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he did remember his dream, vividly, about a dark-haired woman named Regina holding him and calling him her son…and that it didn't feel weird in any way. What did feel weird, and made him wake up, was that, well…it made him feel good, and safe, and loved.