AU. My first fan fiction. Picks up from the end of season 1 and is my prediction of what will happen.


Believing in Henry

"You may not believe in the curse or in me," he said. Emma wanted to cry again. How could her son think she didn't believe in him? It was for him that she had come to Maine, for him that she'd fought Regina, and for him that she was leaving. "But I believe in you."

With his small face set in hard determination, Henry took a big bite out of the center of the turnover. He kept his dark brown eyes set on her face while he chewed the warm apple and crust. Emma smiled through her blood-red eyes. Maybe this would be good. Get him to the truth without hurting him, Mary Margaret had once said. As he swallowed the warm pastry, Emma hoped he would finally see. There was no curse. His mother, however horrible, was no evil queen. Regina was not trying to poison anyone, and Emma was not the savior.

"See," she said as she watched him. "You want to have some ice cream with that, and then we can go back to talking about-"

Henry dropped to the floor with a sharp thud.

"Henry?" she said. How far was he really going to take this curse thing, she thought. But, he didn't answer. The turnover lay in the grasp of his outstretched arm.

This is not the time. "Henry," she said a louder. Suddenly her heart threw itself against her chest. Still he lay on the carpet. He didn't smile, didn't twitch; he didn't move.

"Henry!" Emma cried. Her mind was reeling. What if he wasn't faking? What if this wasn't another Operation Cobra ploy?

Emma dove to the floor and grabbed his small body. "HENRY!" she screamed shaking him forcibly, demanding that he open his eyes, stop toying with her. His mouth opened slightly but his eyes stayed closed as if he were sleeping. Emma's violent shaking forced the turnover to the floor and finally she looked at it: a small triangle of crust with the tiny curves of Henry's teeth. And she saw Regina's face, smiling at her, willing her to take the pastry.

And suddenly Emma was on her feet, sprinting to the worn wood cabinets, slapping everything aside and throwing bottles to the floor as she reached for the plastic sandwich bags. She ripped one out, sending the box flying across the kitchen. She stuffed the apple turnover into the plastic and crawled over to Henry's head.

"Henry, can you hear me?"

She brushed his brown bangs away from his face and stuck two finger near the base of his neck, searching for his pulse. There wasn't one. No, wait. There was a small jump in the nerve under her fingers. Emma brought her ear to her son's mouth, but the air was still and cold. Wait, she told herself. She waited an agonizing four seconds and then was on her feet, lunging for the car keys on the dinner table. She stuffed them and the apple turnover into her tight shallow pockets and stooped to the floor. Emma clawed onto her son's limp body and heaved him into the air- book bag and all-and threw her arms around his legs, pressing him hard into her body.

She was at the door in two steps, not bothering to close it behind her, and flew into the hallway, crashing into someone in front of her.

"Emma!" yelped Mary Margaret stumbling backward. Emma ignored her and ran down the stairs, feeling Henry's heavy head bouncing on her shoulder.

"Emma, what's wrong!"

Emma was painfully aware of Henry's small hands flopping against her arms as she rushed him into the cold and to the yellow bug parked by the sidewalk. She yanked open the passenger door and stuffed him into the seat.

"Emma?" said Mary Margaret running through the door, but Emma didn't hear her. She slammed the yellow door shut, running and awkwardly pulling her keys out of her pockets. Finally behind the wheel, Emma turned the key barely waiting for the engine to sputter awake, before slamming the gas pedal to the floor and peeling away from the curb and a confused Mary Margaret.

The streets were almost empty as everyone was just arriving home from work and the street lights seemed to bend at Emma's will. She floored it down the road, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on Henry's drooped head.

"Henry, can you hear me!" she yelled again. She shook his little shoulders again, eyes flitting between the road in front of her and the dying boy in her car. How had she never noticed just how small he was before?

"Henry, please," she begged. When had she started crying again? "Please, Henry, open your eyes."

She whipped the wheel, taking a turn at a skid and finally saw the stark, white hospital edifice in the near horizon. She sped into the emergency drive, bringing the car a stop with a jolt. She realized her mistake when her son's body worked against the sudden disappearance of momentum and his face smashed against the dash board. Why didn't she seatbelt him, damnit!

"No, no no," she cried running around the car to his door. She pulled him out, tossing him over her shoulder and running into the emergency room.

"HELP ME!" she screamed above the din in the room. Seeing the child in her arms a nurse ran and grabbed a gurney. Two other nurses joined her and pulled Henry out of Emma's arms, but she refused to let him go.

"Henry, can you hear me?" They pushed him down the hall and were shortly joined by Dr. Whale. "C'mon Henry, wake up, please!" she pleaded.

Dr. Whale pulled the gurney into a room.

"C'mon, c'mon Henry you can do it," she encouraged. A nurse grabbed her arm trying to direct her out of the room. Emma used her entire body to yank it away.

"NO! I am not going anywhere," she snarled when the nurse tried to argue.

Dr. Whale clicked a little light on and tugged on Henry's eyelids. Emma stared into her son's eyes, but they weren't his. They were dark, hollow, and empty as if Henry wasn't there at all.

"What happened?" asked Dr. Whale.

Emma snatched the bag out of her pocket and showed him. "He ate this. It's poison."

The doctor forcibly opened Henry's mouth. "His airways are clear. Any convulsing or disorientation-"

"He took a bite of this and then he just collapsed," Emma yelled over him, shoving the turnover in his face. "So run the test for arsenic, or bleach, or Drain-O or whatever could have done this to him!"

Dr. Whale shook his head and grabbed at the bag insisting there were no signs of poison and probing Emma for more information.

"I already told you everything," she cried. "Do something!"

She stomped over to Henry's backpack and ripped it open, dumping its contents onto the bed while Dr. Whale told her he couldn't find anything wrong. "It's like…"

Emma scanned the items on the bed spotting the chocolate bar, comic book, and…"like magic," she said staring at the leather-bound storybook.

Could this be the answer? Hadn't Snow White died biting into a poisoned apple? And hadn't that apple come from the hated Evil Queen? And if Regina was the Queen…Emma snatched out and grabbed the book. A jolt, like a strong pulse of electricity rocketed through her body. She barely got out a gasp before the images played themselves in the mind, flying past like a movie in fast forward.

Mary Margaret, flushed face and tear stained. David standing over her, crying himself. No, it wasn't them. Snow White thrusting a child wrapped in beige and purple embroidered wool-Emma's blanket-into Prince Charming's arms, telling him to go. Goodbye Emma. Prince Charming dashing out. Swords and silver flashing, chinks and grunts, and the slashing blades making contact. A tree, a wardrobe. Find us.

Emma choked on her breathe and stumbled back, crashing into the glass wall. She gripped the book tightly to her chest.

"Emma?" Dr. Whale called. He started forward as if to check on her when he was called back.

He turned his attention from Emma and rushed over to the nurses as they stuck needles and masks and sensors onto Henry.

"We're loosing him!" he announced. The nurses started ordering each other around, passing wires and tubes over the small body, clicking buttons on machines.

Emma stumbled to the bed. "No, no, no, no, no! Henry! Please, please wake up!"

As suddenly as they had swarmed Henry's still body, Dr. Whale and the nurses stepped back. They all stared at the machines for a moment, eyes pinched, analyzing the lines running across the screen.

"Why isn't waking up?" Emma choked.

Dr. Whale sighed and bit his front lip nervously. "He's stable," he said slowly, "but he's slipped into a coma."

"Well, what does that mean? Wake him up!" Emma demanded.

"We can't wake him up. He has to wake up on his own; the best we can do is to keep him stabilized."

"When's that going to happen?" she said. "When will he wake up?"

Dr. Whale shook his head, "I don't know. All comas are different. It could only be a couple minutes, hours, or like David Nolan…years."

Emma's mouth fell open and she looked at her son's face: pale, frozen, a horrifying version of her sleeping Henry. Her bottom lip trembled and she tried to wrap her arms around herself. She realized then that she was holding the book, and on the table beside his bed lay the turnover, disfigured in its plastic bag.

"Henry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, running over and grabbing his loose hand. "I should have listened to you. I should have believed you."

She stared at every inch of her son. A couple of minutes ago he was wrapped in her arms, pleading with her to stay. Then he was yelling at her because she was the savior, she had to stay. It was all a trick. And now he was here, laying on a hospital bed, tubes sticking out of his white arms and a mask pushed over his face. Now he was in a coma. In a coma that he may wake up from in a day or like David, years later. Like David. The phrase repeated itself in Emma's ear. David. David, who was in a coma for years- years lying in a hospital with no one knowing who he was until Mary Margaret read to him. Mary Margaret who was Snow White. Snow White who woke him up. Woke him up!

"I'm going to fix this," she told her son. Emma tucked the book under her arm and sprinted from the room. She jumped into her bug, which was still running with both doors open in the Emergency Lane. Emma pulled out onto the street and sped as she had earlier, but in the opposite direction. She skid to a stop outside of the apartment and took the stairs two at a time.

"Mary Margaret!" Emma called as she burst through the door.

Emma found her roommate on the floor of the kitchen sweeping up a brown powder which had evidently exploded when Emma ransacked the cabinets earlier.

"Emma!" she breathed, standing up and wiping her hands on her skirt.

Emma ran over to her and grabbed Mary Margaret's arm. "C'mon," she said pulling her roommate out of the door and down the stairs.

"What's happened?" asked Mary Margaret. They made it to the car. Emma finally let go and ran to the driver's side.

"Get in the car!" she ordered.

Mary Margaret's eyes widened, but she listened and slid into her seat. Emma tore off again and shoved the heavy book into Mary Margaret's lap.

"You have to read to him," she said.

Mary Margaret trained her green eyes on Emma. "What?"

"You have to read to him."

"Read to who, Emma?"

"To Henry."

"Henry?" Mary Margaret shook her head. "I don't understand."

"He's in a coma," Emma explained, running a light as it turned red. "He ate an apple-an apple turnover-one of Regina's and he collapsed and he's in a coma and it's all my fault!"

"Emma." She could see the shock, disbelief, and worry playing on her roommate's soft features. She hadn't changed. The short hair did nothing, she was still the same woman Emma had seen when she's picked up the book.

"You woke David up. You have to do it again," Emma pleaded. She did not care how irrational she sounded.

She heard Mary Margaret breathe in. "But, Emma-"

Emma took her eyes completely off of the black pavement before her and turned to Mary Margaret. "You HAVE to! I know you can do it again! I cannot loose him!"

Mary Margaret looked into Emma's panicked eyes and felt her head nodding. "Okay," she said.

Emma drove Mary Margaret to the hospital doors, but didn't get out of the car.

"Aren't you coming?" Mary Margaret said from outside the car, clutching the book.

"I'll be right there," said Emma. She had to have another plan, because in her heart she knew having Mary Margaret would not be enough. "There's someone I have to see."