Part I: The Knight and Her Son

Chapter 1 of 2: The Knight Ponders

Of course it was flying monkeys!

If it was not this then it was that!

First, it was the Queen of Hearts bringing along Captain Hook as her lackey who had no perm nor pointy moustache...then off to never Neverland of all places to strike down the not-so-good-boy Peter fucking Pan...and then the Wicked Witch of the West...the Evil Queen's sister of which both are the daughters of said malicious Queen of Hearts.

What the hell even is my life? No−that was a question of old to be asked during the "simpler" times of Storybrooke, Maine. No−the real question to be asked had a slight variation:

What the fucking hell even is my life?

But, back to the task at hand.

Emma Swan currently sat at her desk in the Sheriff's station contemplating everything that had occurred in her life up until that very second. She should have been filing away all the missing persons reports, getting rid of the ones that had been transformed back from flying monkeys, and filing even more reports about certain simian sightings. All people were accounted for yet there were still reports of the damned beasts flying about here and there. It could have been the same one (like they looked different) but there may have been more. Who knew? Zelena could have brought her own minions from Oz when the second curse hit and just made more whenever she felt like using the citizens of Storybrooke as ingredients.

The blonde did not exactly care. She had much more pressing issues at hand. Well, more questions than anything. They usually were phrased like:

What the hell do I do now?

Where the shit do I belong?

Who the fuck am I?

Confusion was putting it mildly. The thoughts and emotions that swirled through Emma's mind were overwhelming to say the least. It had been like this since…well, since Zelena's apparent suicide. Emma was constantly questioning herself and her next plan of action since…well, the whole…suicide…yeah, that was what she would call it.

Luckily, before Emma passed the point of no return from the chasm that was her mind, she heard loud footsteps coming her way.

"Mom!" Henry came waltzing in.

"Henry!" Emma yelled back in the same fashion, making fun of him as she donned the same ridiculous expression on her face. He rolled his eyes.

"Very mature. You really are quite the adult."

"Whatever. Whaddya want, kid?" Emma crossed her arms and eyed the teenager. She then noted the take-out bags in Henry's arms: Granny's of course.

Since deciding to stay in Storybrooke after all, Henry was enrolled back in school. After his day, he would sometimes stop to bring Emma a late-lunch while he had his second lunch (he was a growing boy and thus his hunger was never quite sated). Henry quickly took a seat in the swivel chair at David's desk, where Emma was currently seated upon. He propped up his legs on the desk and started to pull out a grilled cheese for his mother and a burger for himself.

"What makes you think I am not here just to eat lunch with you like I always do?" He took a bite of his food.

"Because I'm your mother."

"Good one, Ma. You should be a detective with that logical reasoning…. oh wait." Another bite.

"Seriously, what do you want, punk?" She started to unwrap her sandwich.

"I've got a new operation for us." Emma rolled her eyes, she thought he would have outgrown these during the year they were in New York. She was wrong, if anything, regaining his memories had just ignited the spark.

"Alright, say you do. What's the name?"

"I don't have a name for it yet; we can work on that later. But, I have this theory," Henry had finished his burger and was now looking at Emma. She was eyeing him, motioning with her head for him to continue. "Well, certain events lately have led me to much pondering-"

"'Pondering'? Why not just say 'thinking'?"

"Don't interrupt me, Miss Swan."

"Shut up."

"So, I was thinking about stuff...did I dumb it down for you enough?"

"Get on with it or you're grounded." Emma was serious so Henry continued with not a trace of Mills' sarcasm:

"My theory is that the White Knight wasn't just a name I gave you a few years ago. No. That's who you really are," Henry was watching Emma, intently, as if he was looking for any ticks or tells for confirmation. But, Emma just raised an eyebrow at him as she grabbed her drink and sipped from the straw.

"Interesting."

"Quite." Henry's hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his cell phone, typed something, then put it away. "Think about it."

"I am." Emma just stared at Henry for a good two minutes. "Alright, done thinking or pondering as you call it."

"Search your feelings...you know it to be true." Henry started to laugh as Emma joined him.

"Did you really just make all this up so you could end it with a Star Wars quote, kid?" She managed to say in between their shared giggle fit.

"Kind of," Henry wiped away some stray tears from his laughter. "But I did mean it. You are the White Knight. I don't know how yet or even why or even when you had the time, but you are."

Emma froze at Henry's response; it was for a split second until she immediately shrugged it off. Sneaky bastard…she locked her thoughts away, metaphorically swallowing the key before she retorted:

"And what makes you think that? I need some evidence...I am sheriff after all." Yeah, nice save, Swan.

"Well, about that. I don't think you're ready for it."

"Of course I'm not. And hey, if you keep up belittling me, you'll grounded until 40."

"Oh please, Miss Swan; all three of us know you are incapable of bequeathing punishments." It was at that moment Regina Mills decided to show up at the sheriff's station. Not that it was unusual nor unwelcomed...anymore at least? Yeah, sure, why not?

"Hey! I'll have you know the past 13 years," Emma made sure to air quote the thirteen, "I have been the strictest, single mother in all the realms!"

Henry took out his phone again while his mothers were probably deciding to cause a scene or whatever they called them nowadays. They paid him little mind as he appeared to jot something down or text someone (who knew?) and proceeded to slip his phone back into his pants pocket.

"Right. Or so you think, dear."

Emma just raised her eyebrows at the mayor, then scrunched them up again, clearly trying to think of a clever quip to throw back at her brunette counterpart but obviously failing epically. Regina smirked in apparent victory back at her. Henry took out his phone again at this point, watching his mothers observantly then quickly slipping said device away again before Regina looked right at him and spoke:

"I'll meet you in the car, Henry," Regina pivoted on her heels and stormed out of the station. Emma spoke up again after the brunette was out of earshot:

"So, am I ready now? I think I deserve to be cut some slack."

"Nope." Henry hopped to his feet, brushing off crumbs from his clothes.

"Then when, kid?"

"All in good time, Ma. Walk me out."

"How very demanding," Emma drawled as she started to follow Henry out the station. It was bright out−an unusually sunny day for Maine during this time of year.

It had been about three weeks since her memories returned and Emma had come back to Storybrooke; and just about three days since ding-dong the witch had gone...well, you know. She had resumed her duties as the town's one and only sheriff (with but only one deputy who was insisted upon staying at home to take care of his wife and newborn…and yes, as far as Emma was concerned, her father was a deputy as she took away his self-appointed promotion). It was work though and work kept the mind busy, or at least that was what the blonde was desperately hoping for. Of course it proved to do the opposite and just allowed her mind to wander; to thoughts of the past, the present, and of course the future. In all the sheriff's thought processing, however, they always eventually took her down the same path, the path that ended with her. And now, as she followed Henry, she was still… "pondering."

"Don't worry, Emma. I'll come over tomorrow night to make sure you don't get lost in thought again."

"W-what?" Emma was confused as she was pulled from her ransacked brain. She looked at her son, agape.

"I was trying to tell you something but you were evidently in deep thought."

"No I wasn't. I just didn't hear you. And really? 'Evidently' now?"

"It means obviously...obviously. Ask Mom if that'd be alright, if I came over tomorrow." Henry was back living with Regina since regaining his memories, wanting to catch up with her and regale her of everything that happened to them while in New York. It was not officially decided how his living arrangements would go yet; especially since Emma was still living at the bed and breakfast (an un-comfy bed was still preferable to a squealing newborn's cries).

"Fine," she grunted as they walked through the glass doors. "Hey!" Emma yelled to the parked Mercedes across the street, "Henry's coming over tomorrow if that's cool with you!"

"If and only if Henry finishes his homework and chores before he does so. And stop yelling, I can hear you perfectly fine, Sheriff."

"Whatever, Your Majesty," Emma articulated, choosing not to yell her response.

Henry took out his phone before he crossed the street. He typed for a few seconds then pocketed it and looked both ways before crossing the street. He turned to look at his blonde mother:

"By the way, Emma. Usually your response to when Mom calls you Sheriff is to say Madam Mayor...not Your Majesty." He smugly said as he winked. "You best be careful…some might say you sound like…oh, I dunno…a knight."

Henry then ran across the street to where his brunette mother was parked. Emma narrowed her eyes at her son, watching him get into the Mercedes. She wanted to yell at him, telling him her slip-up was intentional, that she was just trying to switch her banter up some but decided against, just settling for mouthing You're a little shit instead because if she really want to go there, he was so right.

Emma was sitting behind the wheel of her Volkswagen in front of 108 Mifflin Street. And oh yes was she thinking! She really was excelling at that as of lately...some people may even call her newfound aptitude in that department compelling. Yet, Emma abhorred it. And yet yet, she still did it.

Her current thoughts, as always, went back to the simple: who, what, where, why, and how. Particularly, she was thinking about Henry's nonsense about her being the White Knight.

How does he know what he knows?

What exactly does he know?

I don't even know!

Why is he so good at all this fairy tale crap?

Emma stopped staring aimlessly out her window ahead of her and turned to look at the mansion. She was currently waiting for said nonsense called Henry to bound down the walkway. He had texted her about twenty minutes ago saying he was done with homework and chores ("the usual" as he called it) and was now packing an overnight bag. Emma could have been there in an easy five minutes but she decided to take the scenic route, delaying coming to the mansion.

Why, though? It's not like I haven't been here dozens if not hundreds of times before.

Luckily, the term saved by the Henry is something she has come to realize she may need to trademark. The kid threw open the door (obviously inheriting her "grace" after New York); he had a bag slumped over his shoulder. His brunette mother appeared in the doorway, gazing at Emma and give her a slight nod of head.

"Hey!" Henry apparently was at her passenger door now; the window was ajar (the damn AC finally breaking). He opened the door and got in. "Emma...Ma!"

"What?" She finally looked at him.

"First off, stop staring forlornly at my mom, or at least try not to make it obvious. And second, let's eat ASAP."

"I was….am not!"

Henry just gave her this look, with one eyebrow raised, head tilted ever-so slightly to the left with his chin tucked into his neck.

"And really? More big words?"

"They really aren't that big. I'm in middle school and in advanced English; what do you expect? Besides...I am a prince after all."

"Whatever. I have food at home." Emma air quoted that, "Snow…. I mean my mother brought us some leftovers. Luckily there's a microwave in the room. She made too much…. well actually, she made just the amount she would have if we still lived with her." Emma popped her car back into first and moved her feet over the clutch and gas. It was a silent ride back to the bed and breakfast. She was too focused on driving that her thoughts were inhibited from coming to fruition.

Ah yes, that's why I took the longer way. Driving does wonders to the mind. Too bad gas prices are a bitch right now.

Soon, mother and son found themselves in Emma's makeshift "home."

"How come you don't find your own place?"

"I've been busy."

"Bull shit." If anyone else were present, Emma would have figuratively rubbed soap over his tongue, but between the two of them, she let his inherited sailor mouth set sail.

"I have. After the crap with Zelena, there's been so much clean up...and it's not like I have any help on that matter. Fairy tale characters are pretty useless, ya know." Emma started to take off her boots. She placed them neatly at the foot of her bed, aligning them perfectly adjacent to another, heals just clicking the edge of the bed. Emma noted that Henry took a picture of them with his phone when she said she was just going to pop into the bathroom really quick.

His obsession with that thing is annoying. Kids these days…oh God. That makes me sound old! Oh God! I AM old! No! Shut it, Swan! Don't go there right now! Or ever!

Emma splashed water on her face. The thoughts needed to stop. Even though she was not letting them go beyond the simple who/what/why shit, it still gave her a major headache. Maybe having her son here was a good call. Or, it is exactly what he wants so he can start beguiling her with his operation shenanigans. Which was worse?

Neither. They are the same damn thing. Either way, I will end up going there.

The two had finished Mary Margaret's generous dinner in a companionable almost-silence; they shared the simple small talks like how school was going and if there was anything big coming up a mother (or the mothers) should know about. Henry said he was doing fine in school; despite Storybrooke being quite almost literally stuck in the 1980s, the curriculum was near spot on to what schools were teaching across the nation. He said all his classes were almost exactly like the ones in New York; he did not have to catch up on anything as whatever they were teaching back in New York flowed right into what was being taught here. He made some lame joke as it being "just like magic!" Nothing else to report, though.

"On Saturday, Ma, do you wanna go to the stables?"

"What?"

"The stables. Ya know, with horses? We can ride 'em in the fields they have there. It's free. Gramps used to take me back when you and Gram went through that hat and were stuck in the Enchanted Forest. We haven't been back since but I kinda want to start up again."

"Sure, kid. Just make sure to run it-"

"Yeah yeah I know. How come you are always asking for Mom's permission lately? It's not like you've ever needed her approval before," he looked at her quizzically.

"I'm just trying to be fair. That's what parents do."

"No. That's what kids do. If I want something and she says no…which we both know is her typical response… then I naturally come to you, and we do said something!" Henry was grinning from ear to ear.

"That's how we used to do things, Henry. If you want something we both have to say yes or both have to say no or at least we try to compromise or whatever," Emma sighed.

"Fine," Henry exasperated. He started texting on his phone again. Teenagers and technology…at least Gameboys made sense...

"I convinced Granny to get WiFi for the BnB. Wanna watch some illegally downloaded episodes of House?"

"There are two things wrong with that sentence, Ma, but sure."

It was lunchtime and Emma found herself at the booth in the far back at Granny's with her usual nearly finished. What was unusual was she had found herself ordering a bowl of fruit to go with it. She did it on pure instinct before realizing it was too late…which was coincidentally right when the waitress came by to drop it off.

Wait, why am I questioning myself? I always order fruit, don't I? Wait no…I hate fruit. Or do I? Fuck.

"You ever hear the expression that if you keep making a certain face, it will stay like that forever, dear?"

"And what can I do for you…Madame Mayor." She added that on quickly, having Henry pop into her inner monologues.

Regina slid into the booth facing opposite Emma.

"What? I can't just sit down and enjoy a civil lunch with my favorite sheriff?"

"Nope," Emma smirked. "Not unless, however, my favorite mayor wanted something in particular."

Regina raised her hands in feigned surrender.

"You've caught me, dear. How keenly astute. I guess I'll just have to keep you around as sheriff after all."

"What can I do you for, Regina?" Emma stabbed a strawberry, a piece of cantaloupe, and a slice of apple onto her fork before popping it into her mouth. Regina arched a brow.

"Something…"

"Go on…"

Regina narrowed her eyes as she watched Emma devour the entirety of her fruit bowl.

"Regina?"

With that, however, the mayor merely stood up, got out of the booth, and stalked off. When she was at the door, she threw a look over her shoulder and said to the blonde:

"I do believe I just got my something, dear."

What the fuck?

No, like seriously what the actual fuck? Emma was walking out the backdoor of Granny's to her bug not ten minutes of the mayor had basically stirred up Emma's thoughts.

She didn't know, too, did she? No, no, Swan. If she did we're sure she'd have either killed you or kis…nah, she doesn't know…besides that's not who you are.

Wait, what? Emma paused as she was about to jiggle the handle to her car open to take off for the station. Her thoughts were tumultuous, she needed to stop them before her headache erupted into a full-blown migraine.

"God my brain hurts."

It was time to work hard. It was time for the thoughts to go "bye-bye."

The rest of the day elapsed with nothing to report. Henry was back at his other mother's again and Emma decided to work later than per usual. Luckily for her, it was not by choice as a brawl had ensued at the Rabbit Hole causing her to lock up the two men who had started it. It was truly the perfect distraction for her.

Her brain-damaging thoughts and memories could not pester nor provoke her if she was too busy and strained dealing with actual problems that were occurring right now. And when Emma arrived home, she instantly knocked out, doubling her luck as being KO'd meant dreams, also known as an unreliable thought/memory-processing mechanism, would be a no-no.

After coming the following morning at precisely seven o'clock to release the burly men, Emma set the phones to go straight to voicemail and drove off to pick up Henry.

That was when she realized it. It being something very important.

It was Saturday.

It was a Saturday morning to be precise. Henry is a teenager. And to put the cherry on top, it was only about seven twenty in the fucking morning.

Of course…

The blonde parked her car. She just could not catch a break these days since Zelena's…suicide. Yeah, that.

She was just about to turn onto Mifflin. How dumb could one be? She contemplated on what to do. She surmised Henry would probably be up around ten or eleven. She tried remembering when exactly he would wake up back in New York but her mind was clouded…duh. She could not pin-point anything. In fact, she was having an arduous time recalling New York at all.

That's to be expected I guess. How long ago was that now actually?

No! Stop it. That's not you! Okay…okay. Focus, Swan. We just need to keep ourselves busy for about…oh…maybe an hour or two. Nine is a suitable time to knock at the door. Everyone should be up by then. Or, legally speaking, it is appropriate to knock now…no. Our Queen isn't a morning person and although it is chilly, we don't exactly need a fist full of fire to start our day. See! Now these are the thoughts we can have! Thatta girl, Sir Swan…

FUCK! Stop THINKING!

With that, Emma turned off her car and got out. She decided to run. And she would run fast.

Running. She could do that for hours. It is always hard to think as she runs. She nearly forgot that. That was always why she ran, and not the physical aspect of putting one's feet on pavement. She would run when she was thinking too much, deciding it was much easier to run away than to have to think more and then act on those thoughts.

There were trails near Mifflin street. One trail would lead to the Mills' family crypt, one into the forest, and another longer route would take her to the beach. Emma took that one.

She was fortunate that her boots today were ones that had absolutely no heels to them, only slight arches, perfect for running this morning and this morning only.

Unfortunate though that it took her maybe only forty minutes to make it to the beach.

Forty. How fucking coincidental…

She stopped running once the dirt path parted into a pebbly beach. She decided to be a dumbass.

Emma ran straight into the ocean water and dove right in, clothes and all.

Oh no…looks like I have to get dressed all over again…a real shame that is.

She ran back out of the navy waves but only to poof herself back to her room the second her boots hit the dry sand.

But fuck…showering…there was a reason, well two, that people took such long-ass showers. And so, her thoughts went a little something like this:

What do I do?

How do I move forward?

I can't accept what happened over there, can I?

No. That isn't who I am.

I'm Emma Swan.

Right?

Luckily, it was a short shower as Emma's room had run out of hot water thanks to a guest upstairs flushing the toilet, abruptly turning the steamy droplets into a near winter wonderland.

When it was the appropriate time to knock on a person's door, Emma had picked up her son from his other mother's. Now, the supposed knight and her "interrogator" found themselves at the stables.

"So what exactly do we do here, kid?"

"Ride horses…duh."

"Sure. But don't you, I dunno, need to like build rapport with one of the horses first? Ya know, least you scare it off before you even mount up."

The two were standing at a section of the white fence that encompassed the horses who were given the day to stretch their legs and graze leisurely. Henry was using the lower portion of the fence to prop himself up as he rested his chin on the top part. Emma leaned up against it with her back, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at the now eye-leveled boy to her left.

"You seem to know an awful lot about something you've once complained about and something you once told me you've never done."

Henry turned to smirk at his blonde mother, instantly locking eyes with her. Emma remained silent. He continued, however, seeing as though Emma made no effort to retort.

"I think you're ready."