Six months after Emma drove out of Storybrooke with Henry...


Emma curled onto the couch, the drone of Letterman blocking out sounds of traffic below and scaring away her nightly pity party.

But only for a little while.

There's no reason to complain. I have a good job, a fabulous apartment, and the best pre-teen a mother could want. I'm happy.

Her thoughts struck the familiar discord in her mind.

Liar.

Emma grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her body to ward off the sudden chill in the room. She no longer heard the TV, too focused on the internal battle.

Her days brought contentment, a time she could just be herself and enjoy her son. Everything magically fit. But the nights cast her life in an odd glow, shimmering upon it until it shone like a glamour hiding a darker truth.

She couldn't shake the nagging sensation her life, at least part of it, was a lie.

Just what exactly the truth entailed remained a mystery.

I just can't stand being happy, that's all. It's like The Matrix: I can't accept a perfect world, therefore it can't be true and I don't believe it.

Sometimes, she almost succeeded in believing the excuse. Her past contained so much pain—a monster waiting to strike and steal away her happy ending.

But the nagging sense of missing….something—never left, it simply diminished during her busy days while growing into a loud roar in the quiet nights.

Maybe it had to do with her lack of dreams, or rather, remembering those dreams upon waking.

It had been six months—since moving to Manhattan—without a single remembered dream: no fairy tales, no nightmares, just a blank slate.

Her memory of dreams before her move was a jumbled mess: childhood nightmares remained in perfect clarity—typical monster chasing scenarios and the terrifying one where she was the only person left in the world, completely alone—as did a few good ones involving toy stores and unlimited candy. Then somewhere around Henry's birth, the details of her dreams blurred.

I was a single teen mom raising a baby. Most of my life was a blur then.

Yet a few images—they had to be dreams—teased her memory: a dark-haired woman with a pixie-cut hugging her close, a sandy-haired man kissing her forehead, and a man with blue-gray eyes capable of seeing into her soul.

The faces were unfocused, hidden, and what she could remember matched no one Emma had ever met. Yet she knew, with absolute certainty, that these people loved her.

That's because they are dreams from a time when I was alone with a baby and longed for a family to help.

So why did they feel like the missing piece, holding the truth beneath a magical shield? Why did she try to find them each time sleep washed over her?

Why? She had Henry—he was all she needed. She wasn't a little lost orphan who required a family anymore.

Emma snuggled beneath the blanket, tired of her inability to let go and just enjoy life.

Fuck you, Letterman. Fat lot of good you did.

The pull of sleep whispered to her and she welcomed it—a safe haven from her unease and the one place she might find answers.


Emma stood in a forest, dark and threatening, the absence of sound disconcerting. She glanced down, shocked to find she still wore her plaid pajamas, feet bare.

The sliver of moon barely shed enough light to see three feet away.

Walking was not an option.

"It's about time you got here. I've been waiting all night." The tiny musical voice scolded her from behind, and Emma whipped around.

A fairy floated in the air, a green glow emanating from her body.

Definitely a dream. Fairies don't exist.

Emma had watched the Disney movie often enough she recognized the figure. "Tinker Bell?"

The fairy clapped her hands together in delight. "You remember me! This is wonderful!" She performed a celebratory dance in the air.

Emma smirked. "Of course I remember you. I've seen the movie Peter Pan at least a dozen times."

Tinker Bell ceased dancing, her brow furrowing. "Do you remember meeting me in Neverland?"

Emma wanted to laugh at the fairy, but something stopped her—a faded image just out of reach. "I think I'd remember a trip to Neverland."

The fairy frowned, muttering to herself, the words too faint for Emma to hear.

Emma didn't care what the fairy thought. She just wanted out of the forest, the sense of the trees closing in on her as if breathing entities was an image she couldn't shake and if she didn't leave soon, she'd never make it back to Henry. It didn't make any sense—Henry was asleep in their apartment, he was safe—but the feeling refused to leave. "Hey, sorry to disappoint you, but do you think you can help me out of here? This forest creeps me out."

The fairy zoomed in close, scrutinizing Emma, only an inch from her face. She let out an impatient huff. "We'll have to walk. Follow me." She fluttered away, faster than Emma thought possible.

"Hey wait, I don't have any shoes and I can hardly see. I am not going anywhere."

Tinker Belle hovered in mid-air, her amused laugh irking Emma. "This is your Dream World, Emma. All you have to do is believe to control it." She tossed an impatient look at her.

Emma groaned. Her dreams rarely ever gave her such power, the ones she could recall at least, but she humored the fairy.

I need shoes.

To Emma's surprise, a pair of fuzzy plaid slippers appeared on her feet. "What the-?"

"Can we go now? The spell won't last forever."

Emma shook her head. "Hold on." I want to wear my work outfit and boots. She blinked and was instantly in her skinny black jeans, a camisole, and a red leather jacket, complete with black boots.

Not bad. How about I wake up from this dream?

She waited a moment or two, but nothing happened.

"We need to move. You don't have very much time." The fairy's annoyance was clear.

"Time for what?" Emma asked, but Tinker Bell was already ahead of her, her light a beacon in the darkness. "Hey wait up!" She stumbled forward, a tree root nearly tripping her as she hurried after Tinker Bell.

Flashlight.

One appeared in her hand and Emma grinned, flipping it on and jogging after the green speck.


The forest thinned, opening to a beach. Fog blanketed the water, hiding most of the ship anchored there, only a few masts and flag visible.

A pirate flag.

The setting was the kind present in most horror movies, designed to bring fear and panic to anyone caught in its web.

But the fear failed to appear as an unexpected emotion hit her: need.

What. The. Hell.

Emma possessed no explanation; she only knew she had to get on that ship.

"Tinker Bell, how do I—"

The fairy pursed her lips, pantomiming blowing a kiss, and the fog separated enough to reveal a small row boat. She flew to Emma. "Hurry. He's waiting for you."

The words caused a heat to spread inside her body, confusing the hell out of her. The idea of someone waiting for her, especially an unnamed person, shouldn't have so much power. "He? Who is he?"

Tinker Bell gave her a smile. "Someone searching for his happy ending." She motioned Emma forward. "Go. Every moment with me is one missed with him."

Emma swallowed and nodded, wanting to question the fairy further but every fiber of her being screamed to get on that ship as soon as possible.

As she rowed through the gap in the fog, the oars slicing soundlessly through the water, it hit her who the "he" on a pirate ship had to be in a dream containing Tinker Bell: Captain Hook. Instead of turning around and heading back to shore—meeting the villain of Peter Pan couldn't possibly be a good idea, could it? —she rowed faster.

With a certainty unknown outside of dreams, Emma knew he held the answers.


Thanks again to Arandil for being an awesome beta!

This is likely a two-part fic.

Review? What did you like? Anything you're hoping to see in part 2?