Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of "Once Upon a Time." No profit will be made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy my first venture into the world of "Once Upon a Time." I am a really big fan of this show and particularly love the Henry/Regina relationship.
He was Henry Swan. It was that quick. His mom smiled at him across the seat, one of the secret smiles they had always shared when there was a new adventure to look forward to. He smiled back at her as he thought about the move to New York and the new life that waited for them.
Of course the mist had faded now.
Amid his thoughts of New York pizza and the Statue of Liberty, he had no concept of who he had been five minutes ago...Henry Mills, Regina Mill's son, who looked back...looked back as she raised her hands to the sky and saved everyone. For a few desperate seconds he panicked, trying to commit every thing about her to memory, every single moment good or bad. He almost jumped out of the car and ran back to her, telling her that there had to be another way. He was the truest believer, if he believed it, it could happen. But the few seconds left he had to remember passed as the yellow car he once prayed would take him away moved forward and he knew there was nothing he could do. For it was not just her price to pay, it was his too and he was her son and had to be as brave as she was. He closed his eyes, and again tried to remember every goodnight kiss, every Christmas present, and finally the last gift a mother gave to her son was given. Five minutes ago, he was Henry Mills, a broken-hearted little boy who had just lost the center of his world. Now he was Henry Swan, with no memory of the woman who now found herself in the midst of the familar woods of home, who walked a few steps into the seclusion of the forest and collapsed in her agony.
6 months later
It all began with a dream of a lullaby, that haunted Henry in his dreams. He played it for his piano teacher on Thursday afternoon, who had never heard it. He hummed it for his mom, who didn't know it either. One of his earliest memories was of climbing into his mom's lap and having her sing "Blackbird," to him. He knew she had never sung this song to him but somehow the melody seem to belong to him. Sometimes, although he never told his mom this, there was voice humming the melody, and he would smile in his dream. Then he would wake up and look around the darkness of his room. Somehow, in the midst of his lego sets, blankets, collection of travel snow globes, and the picture of his mom he had on his shelf, he felt strangely homesick.
Over time the dreams evolved, daydreams as well as night. On the 4th of July when they went on a picnic with the Springers, his eyes were suddenly stinging with tears at the smell of hot apple pie. Images floated through his mind like bubbles, appearing and then popping, only to reappear again. Red Christmas balls with gold trim, a blue quilt, the foaming bubbles of an after-school rootbeer float, a yellow stuffed bear with gray button eyes who was always getting into trouble. "It was Charlie Mommy, I swear it was Charlie." and that voice...the voice he tried so hard to hold onto when the dreams stopped. He could almost feel the warmth of the smile that came as she chuckled, "Charlie huh? Silly old Bear." It was a voice he didn't know, but belonged to him just the same. What was happening to him?
He did as he had always done when something was bothering him, talked it over with his best friend. He and his mom had always been best friends, had always told eachother everything. He told her about the dreams and the images, and about "her." But he didn't tell her of the dream he had of a gentle kiss against the side of the forehead and the voice saying "Time to get up my little prince." He didn't tell her that he had sat up in bed and whispered, "Mommy?"
He felt guilty during the day, when his mom made breakfast, drove carpool, laughed at his jokes and brought home pizza for their Thursday pizza and a movie nights. His mom was the best ever. But at night, after she had said goodnight and turned out the light, he found himself hoping that he would dream of "her."
Emma noticed the change in her son and the dreams she dismissed as random started to worry her. Henry seemed obsessive about the dreams somehow and she worried if she needed to take him to a doctor. Did he need help? She was researching online late one night when suddenly he was there, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, his eyes red. She instantly took him in her arms.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
"Mama," he whispered and it both frightened her and warmed her heart to hear him calling the name he hadn't called her in years. "This isn't right."
"What isn't Sweetheart?"
"This, our life, something's wrong," he whispered as another hot tear fell.
She took his face in her hands and caressed his cheeks, "Kid, we have a great life, we're together, that's all that matters. It's you and me till the bitter end friend," reciting the old rhyme they used to say when he was little.
He didn't say anymore, just buried his head in her shoulder. She was right, there was nothing more important than the two of them being together, being a family. So why had he dreamed of "her" again, and almost saw two bright loving brown eyes smiling at him with such love? Why when he had woken up and saw her vanish...vanish, had his heart hurt so much he started to cry?
"Hey kid," His mom said, smoothing his hair. "What do you say we head down to the toy store and look at the new Lord of the Rings lego sets tomorrow?"
"That sounds great Mom," he said, knowing full well that he was scaring her. She stood him up and walked him to his bed. Tucking him in, she leaned over and kissed his forehead, "I love you Henry," she said softly. He smiled back up at her, ready to say he loved her too when suddenly he saw a strange look in her eyes.
"What?" he asked and the look was gone as quick as it had come
"Deja vu, I guess," she said and she tickled him a bit before turning out the light.
The next morning while she was in the shower, he found the sticky note on her dresser to call the doctor. He felt awful for scaring her. He swallowed hard as he made up his mind to forget the woman from his dreams. He had a great life and a great mom and the woman from his dreams was just a random image. She meant nothing.
He was Henry Swan. As they walked down 42nd street, he filled his mind with thoughts of legos, and lunch at Bella's, the last month of his summer vacation and getting Stacy Crosby to notice him when he got back to school. His mom smiled as he talked incessantly about Dave Matthews new bike and begged and pleaded again to get an iphone for Christmas. He was so good that he was almost fooling himself. Inside deep, down, the melody of the lullabye that belonged to him played on.
In another realm, another life, "she" stood at the window looking up at the night sky and humming his song. Regina had finally gotten to the point where she didn't start subconsciously rocking the empty air when she sang, but the tears still burned as fierce. The first few months had been torture, absolute complete torture. She had never imagined such pain.
She rested her head against the window and spoke quietly to the woman behind her...not quite a daughter, not quite a friend, but the closest thing she still had to family.
"I hope she remembers..." she swallowed hard, "I hope she remembers to put an extra blanket on him at night. Is it winter again there? I can't remember."
She knew full well that Snow had her own loss to deal with, and even with the new life growing inside Snow, Regina knew very well the pain in those eyes for she had seen it before, caused it many, many times.
And yet, there was the smile, that, terrible, annoying, bright, and wonderful smile. For a moment Regina saw the little girl again and the possibilities that little girl had started in her heart long ago.
"Regina," Snow said softly, "I'm sure she is taking very good care of him. She loves him so much."
The old pain and jealousy flared for a moment, "I know that," she almost snapped as she sat down and let out a long sigh.
"Snow," she breathed and it suddenly occured to her how many years it had been since she had even referred to her as Snow. "I don't think I can stand this much longer. I've got a spell...something that would help me forget."
"Is that really what you want?" Snow asked and her face grew serious.
"I only have two years of memories Regina," she says, "Only two years. You have so much more. You have his first steps, and his first word, you have the memories of Christmases and birthdays. I would give anything to have that."
Regina straightened herself and looked into the younger woman's eyes. She was so close, so on the brink of saying it, of saying that she was sorry for the torture she had brought on her. Snow simply smiled sadly, "I know." she said quietly and then walked over to the window to look up at the stars again. "You know Regina," she whispered quietly "He figured it all out once. He may do it again. He may find a way. You know who he is after all."
Regina leaned back and closed her eyes, "He can't. This time it's impossible." There was a brief pause and the words were sharp but devoid of the hatred she had once felt for this woman."Please...please don't say nothing is impossible!"
Snow smiled and sat down next to her again, "Not with our family Regina."
Regina swallowed hard..."our family," it was still so strange and yet that was the greatest magic her son had performed, taking mortal enemies and somehow making them into this group of people, this strange family. She would have never thought it possible. Maybe...maybe there was a chance that Henry would figure it out again, that he would somehow bring them back together. After all, he had believed in her all those years ago and maybe, just maybe, the magic of the heart of the truest believer still flowed through her little boy's heart.
The daydream came again, "she" came again, as he passed a train set on the corner aisle. He looked at the label "Tornado Flyer" and suddenly he could hear laughter, delighted laughter and he had a memory of hugging someone with a blue robe so hard, he knocked her on the balls of her feet. He could feel the softness of the robe, remember the excitement of holding his new engine...he had held that engine in his hands before! And he heard the voice, so very clearly, "Merry Christmas my little prince." He was more sure than ever. Something was not right.
"Mom," he called out, walking up and down the aisles until he found his mom on the aisle with the porcelain dolls. His mother was delicately fingering the hair on a doll and then gently brushed her finger down the doll's cheek. Her eyes seemed sad and lonely.
"Mom?" he asked and she turned to him. "Yeah kid, you ready to check out and go home?"
He nodded slowly and turned to look at the doll his mom had gently been caressing. It was a porcelain doll of Snow White.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah kid, I'm just great," she said but he could see the look in her eyes. It was a reflection of his own the past few months. She had felt something. He knew she had.
On the way home his mom talked about her upcoming day, about Sunday brunch with the Powells, and what movie they should choose for their next movie night.
But Henry Swan heard very little, for a new idea was formulating in his head. What if there really was something missing? He was going to find it. He was going to find answers. He was going to find her.
Operation truth was on.