A/N: I wasn't going to do this. I was going to finish Deserted and then take a break for a while, but this story won't leave me alone. So I thought I'll post the first chapter and see the reaction. Let me know what you think.

Emma Swan ran her fingers over the file folder of tests and essays that her son's teacher had collected for the past few months. The teacher had called it a portfolio, but to her it was evidence that maybe she had done something right in raising him. That is until his father, Neal, had breezed back in his life only to be hit by a drunk driver and die on the side of a road without ever managing a single father and son camping trip or an explanation of puberty. No, all parenting was left to her - fail or succeed.

Smiling politely, she listened the words from the woman's mouth about potential and encouraging academic success. Despite her own struggles in school, she knew that her son was smarter than more of the children in his grade and was well on his way to being smarter than her. He breezed through math problems two grade levels ahead of him. His writing was creative and correct. His reading comprehension was spot on accurate. He had a mind for history and geography that made her ashamed of her dependence on a GPS.

"I was thinking that perhaps he might be a good candidate for a summer enrichment program," the woman said, her eyes shining brightly as she spoke of the young student. "He's such a bright boy. I know he'd thrive with other students like him. I think it would be good after his father…"

Emma tried not to be obvious as she glanced at her watch, counting the minutes until she had to be back at work. As a single mom, she rarely had an opportunity to miss any time. Their livelihood depended on her ability to earn money, especially now that Henry's father had passed away. She was a contracting as a bail bondswoman, making a percentage on each deadbeat she managed to apprehend. The money was good at times and dreadful at others, but one thing was for sure. She had to actually work to make money.

"That sounds…great," Emma said, offering that fake enthusiastic smile that she often used when she was working on a case. "But Henry's grandfather has arranged for him to spend the summer in Maine. He's never met him before so I think it will be good for him to get to know some family."

The teacher slid the brochure she had been holding back into the stack and reached over for another envelope. "They have some really good programs in Maine for gifted students. He might like some of these." The brochure was thicker than the regular trifold. The original probably boasted glossy photographs, but this version was black and white and folded at the corners where someone had removed and replaced a staple.

Emma felt the minute hand on the clock speed up as she stared at the Xeroxed copies of single spaced descriptions of everything from space camp to theater playgroups. "I'll take a look," she promised with a half-hearted smile. "Thanks for your help. I know he's in good hands here."

Henry was in good hands, she thought as she darted out into the crowded parking lot and tried to remember which row her little yellow bug was in from when she just parked it 30 minutes earlier. She had so many things going on in her life. She was dating a new guy, trying to get in extra hours so she might actually get a vacation that summer, and trying to raise her son on her own. He was the one succeeding while she struggled.

Her son's hair looked like it needed another trim, but she pushed that thought aside and kissed his cheek before he pulled away and returned his attention to his video game. It was his solace now, one of the only things he had found he had in common with his father in the brief time they had shared. Neal was not a bad father, but after a car accident had claimed his life, Emma realized just how much she needed the extra help he provided.

"Your teacher was suggesting an enrichment program," she said, turning the car onto the busy street with a wave of thanks to the man who had let her into traffic. "One in Maine."

"I don't want to go to Maine," Henry grumbled, his feet bracing the edge of the seat and the handheld game being balanced on his knees. "I don't know him."

"He's your grandfather," she reminded him gently. "You can ask him stuff about your dad."

Henry looked up through the shaggy brown hair that practically covered his eyes. She reminded herself to schedule an appointment for him. She did not want him to meet his grandfather looking like she had not cared for him in years.

"I'm not going," he said doggedly. His foot slipped from the seat and kicked his backpack. "I hate Maine."

"You've never been," she muttered, pulling out in front of a truck a bit too closely. "And I'm afraid you don't have a choice. The Gold's want to meet you. They want to meet Neal's son. So you're going. That's final."

***AAA***

Emma threw the file down in the lopsided bin on the edge of Elsa's desk, a frown on her face as she waited on the other blonde woman to notice her. She tapped her foot impatiently, listening to the gentle and slow cadence of Elsa's voice as she explained to some poor woman that they tracked down criminals and bail jumpers, not dogs.

"We should add that caveat to the next advertisement we take out," Elsa said with a sigh, looking up at Emma's green eyes with a mix of frustration and amusement. "That's the fourth call today about a lost pet."

"No job to big or small," Emma said, slipping an orange pen out of the cup of writing instruments on the desk. She flipped it over in her hand to see the logo for a website development company and laughed. "You know if you're going to convince me that Will isn't your type, maybe you need to quit letting him come by to visit. He seems to leave behind office supplies as a calling card."

"He says we need a website," Elsa said, snatching the pen back and shoving it in among the other assortment. "He could give us a good deal."

"When people need a skip tracer or bondsperson, they don't look online. We need good word of mouth and connections. That's all we need." She looked pointedly at the woman in front of her. "And you're not working if he's here flirting with you."

"Partner, not employee," Elsa said just as pointedly. "And I don't see you getting much work done when Walsh comes to visit. Or is he just here selling furniture." She waved her hands around to indicate the rejected office furniture that decorated their office space. Water warped tables and desks, mismatched file cabinets, and faded framed posters that had been there when they moved in a few months before. "I'd be embarrassed to show him this place, if I was you. He deals in high end antiques and our look here is ghetto college dorm."

"He's also friends with several judges and city officials," Emma reminded her, arms folding over her chest defiantly. "He's a good contact for business. Networking is important." She tried to keep her face stoic, but it was clear to her friend and partner that there was something going on between the two of them. They had been seeing each other for a few weeks and she was even considering introducing him to Henry, a big step in her life since she rarely brought dates around her impressionable son.

Elsa rolled her eyes dramatically and dug under a pile of papers for her message pad. "Speaking of which, Judge Maribel's office called for you. Looks like an easy one."

Will Scarlett had been flirting with Elsa since he first ran into the two women in the elevator of the building where they'd located their office. Actually he had flirted with both of them, but Emma had been the least interested of the two, calling him several names and practically punching him when he called their business venture cute. Elsa, on the other hand, had found him amusing, much to Emma's annoyance.

Both women had been working for one of the larger bail bonds companies when they met. The management team had not seen them as viable or serious and relegated them to office work while the new male recruits got the more exciting assignments. On one of the few stakeouts they had been allowed to participate in, the air conditioning had broken in the company's van and both women had commiserated over the horrible conditions.

"The difference," Emma had said, pulling her shirt away from her skin and fanning herself with a discarded magazine, "is that we get boob sweat and they get the better cases. If I was brave, I'd quit and open my own business."

Maybe it was the heat of that summer night or maybe it was the fact that their boss had just called her sweetheart for the eighth time that day, but Elsa jumped at the idea. While waiting on their suspect to appear outside the bar his mother owned, they had worked out the details for going into business themselves, even designing their logo and scanning a real estate section of the newspaper for cheap office space. A week later they were turning in their notices and hanging out their shingle along with Elsa's younger sister, Anna.

They were in their lean period, Anna had said when the three women had to pool every dime they had to pay the rent. They had to hustle for every bit of work, proving themselves again and again. Emma knew that her reputation was on the line each time she took a job and tried desperately to make sure she did her best to keep it intact. One perp getting away meant others saw her and woefully underqualified. A good catch meant that she was lucky.

"I've got a few places to check out today," she said, pointing at a disorganized bulletin board they called their command center. "He's got to have been in contact with someone. So I'm going to go see what I can dig up at some of his old haunts."

Elsa nodded, clearly no longer interested in the conversation. "I'm going to try to figure out Anna's system," she said with a sigh. "Remind me to buy her and Kristoff a lifetime supply of condoms. I don't think we can survive another maternity leave with her."

"She'll be back," Emma said, ripping a list of names and addresses off the board without removing the push pin. "How long can they survive on his salary from the gelato place he opened last year?" It had been a long running joke that Anna was the one with business sense in that marriage, as Kristoff had decided to open a frozen dessert café in the middle of winter in Boston.

***AAA***

Even with her schedule the way it was, disorganized and hectic, Emma tried to make it home before her son's bedtime each night. Having grown up in foster care and group homes, she knew the pain of feeling neglected and abandoned. Henry would never feel that way, she told herself. She wanted him to know that he was loved and cared for even when she was so tired and busy that she felt at the end of her rope.

"Homework done?" she asked, dropping a carton of Kristoff's famous Belgian chocolate gelato on the counter in the kitchen. He always gave her some when she stopped by and she brought it to Henry as a treat. "Or am I going to get a call tomorrow about you?"

She never got calls about him not doing homework, but she still made the statement as a threat. The calls lately had been about his behavior, acting out and refusing to work with his classmates on assignments. There had been calls that he was sullen and angry; both she attributed to losing his father.

His eyes were glued to the 50-inch television that she had gotten on sale and did not even recognize the brand name. Watching him, she wondered when the last time was that he'd blinked. "Kid?"

"In a minute," he muttered, tilting the game controller in his hands. "Seriously, this level is hard."

Grabbing two spoons and the carton she collapsed on the couch beside him and tried to make sense of the scene on the television. It looked like an apocalyptic mess of monsters and zombies. She wasn't sure who was supposed to be the good guys in all that. But she knew that Henry would scoff if she tried to ask. Shoes off, she folded her legs under her and glanced at the assortment of papers on the coffee table, seeing the paperwork from his teacher on top.

"Did you see any of them that interested you?" she asked, leaning forward to lift the brochure closer to her face. "It might be fun."

"They're in Maine," he said with a tight clenched jaw.

"And that's where you'll be this summer," she said breezily, as though they had not been arguing about it for weeks. "Look at this way. If you do a summer enrichment program, you won't have to deal with your grandfather all day. You'll just see him for dinner or something." Emma wondered if that was even true, as from what Neal had said about his father, the man was not one for family meals.

"I'm not going."

Emma dug the spoon into the carton and pulled out a gob of chocolatey goodness, flipping to the next page of the brochure. "There's one here about science," she said. "You love science."

"It's Maine," he muttered, shifting his whole body in the effort of winning the game. "What kind of science is there in Maine?"

She pulled the spoon out of her mouth. "What is with you and Maine? What did Maine ever do to you?"

"Dad hated Maine," he answered as though it was obvious. "He hated his father. He hated his mother. Why do I have to go to Maine?"

Emma sighed heavily, looking at the boy who undoubtedly took after Neal more than her. "I get that," she said. "But your father was not a happy man about family. People change and your grandfather really wants to get to know you. It's just for two weeks. It's not the end of the world." She shifted to face him though his attention was still on the video game. "Don't you want to meet your dad's family? His friends from growing up? I think it might be good for you."

A red box appeared on the screen declaring that Henry was now out of extra lives and the game was over. He sank back against the cushions of the couch with a huff. "Two weeks?"

"Yes," she said. "Two weeks. If you stay here, I'm making you work. You'll have to do filing and stuff at the office. It won't be a vacation."

He grabbed the extra spoon and filled it to overflowing with the gelato. "Science?" he mumbled through a mouth full of the chocolate.

"It's the only one there in the town of Storybrooke," she said tossing him the papers before she recited the description to him. "Environmental Science Adventure. A perfect outlet for a creative mind that will explore the diverse habitats of both land and sea in coastal Maine."

***AAA***

Emma was on the second aisle of the grocery store when her phone rang, a bleating hip hop tune that Henry insisted on picking out when she first got the upgraded device. She yanked it from her pocket and tried to sound professional as she looked over the morning breakfast cereals with cartoon characters on the front. "Swan here," she said distractedly.

"Emma?" a female voice asked. "This is Belle Gold. I wanted to talk to you about Henry."

Feeling a bit sick to her stomach, Emma clutched the handle of the shopping cart and waited. "Yes, what about him?" she finally asked when the tentative voice did not volunteer any more.

"My husband and I are thrilled that he's going to come to visit," she said in a clearly rehearsed speech. "I know that he's going to love it here."

She waited again, thinking how strange it was for the woman to call. All the talk before had come through e-mail, short messages about arrival times and sleeping arrangements. There had been two to discuss food allergies alone since Henry had none and Neal had been prone to them. "I'm sure he will."

"It's just," the woman sounded even more hesitant. Emma tried to picture her, having only seen one photograph from those in Neal's collection. She was much younger than her husband and quite beautiful. Neal had called her a trophy wife and insisted that she was just after his father for his money. "It's just that my husband isn't all that well."

"Excuse me?" Emma asked, not expecting that reason for the call.

"It's his heart," she said. "He had a heart attack not long after Neal's death and hasn't fully recovered. I'm worried that it might be too much for him to have a young boy around the house. The noise and all."

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Are you asking me to postpone the trip, Mrs. Gold?"

"Please, it's just Belle. No, I wouldn't dream of asking you to do that. I just was thinking that perhaps rather than having Henry stay with us, he could stay at this lovely bed and breakfast in town. It's just the most quaint little place with antiques and fantastic artwork. It's just the coziest little place you can imagine. I'm sure he'd love it."

"Mrs. Gold, Belle, I am sure this place you're talking about it great, but we're talking about a 12 year old boy. He's not going to be impressed by antiques and artwork. Not to mention he's 12. You can't expect a 12 year old to stay in a hotel alone." An impatient shopper pushed her cart past Emma, giving her a look that was clearly a commentary on talking on the phone in the store. "Maybe we should just postpone."

"No," Belle protested loudly, a clear difference from her soft tone from before. "What I mean is, that wouldn't be wise. You see, Emma, my husband is very ill. His heart is not in good shape at all. The doctors…well, he doesn't have much time left. He so desperately wants to meet Neal's son. I realize this is an inconvenience, but we're able to pay you for you trouble. If you could maybe stay with Henry. We'll cover all the expenses."

"Me? Come to Maine?" Emma inched her cart forward when a mother of three cleared her throat in the universal signal that she was in the way. "I own a business. I can't just pack up and leave for two weeks…"

"And we would pay that too. We could pay your rent that month, any salary you receive, even provide you with the ability to Skype with your co-workers and clients. It's not ideal, but please consider it. I really feel that it is best to do this now. It'll be good for them both."

Thoughts?