A/N: Chapter One of a random something which I can't quite get out of my head- I'm sorry for once again getting sucked in to the dangerous world of fanfiction…. BUT THIS IDEA WILL NOT LEAVE MY HEAD!

Okay so this is completely random and was thought of approximately 30 minutes ago, upon leaving the Tube Station and seeing a very incongruous bookshelf. Yup, a bookshelf labelled "Book Swap". And then my brain started whirring and now I'm here, sitting on my bed, hair dampened from rain, desperate to write a little chunk of this incredibly fluffy fanfiction. It's going to be VERY different to the usual. Firstly, there is no curse. Secondly, Regina isn't Henry's adoptive birth mother. Henry lives with his Mom, Emma, and always has. I can't say whether I will continue with this… that's all up to whether you guys want me to! And I HAVEN'T abandoned my other story, Hazel. Now let's begin because this idea cannot wait:

Emma Swan hadn't read a book in years. It wasn't that she disliked reading as such; it was more the lack of time spare she had to fully engross herself in a fictional characters life that put her off.

Regina Mills, on the other hand, was a prolific one. She loved everything from the sound of the page turning to the intent behind the words that swam in front of her eyes. It was her escape. And she was all too happy to indulge in its freedom; hence why she overly championed the introduction of, "Storybrooke's Book Swap.'

"And you're definitely sure people will participate?" Belle, the town's librarian, had asked tentatively (and somewhat shocked that the infamous Mayor was keen to abide).

"Yes, positive. The community needs something to pull it together."

"And a Book Swap is the best way?"

"You came up with the idea! Why are you trying to find fault?" Regina asked, puzzled yet determined.

"Oh nothing- I er- I am just a bit surprised that you're in to it. The idea I mean," the younger brunette mumbled, hiding behind a frame of mahogany curls.

Regina observed her petite stature, adorned with thick red tights and a pretty daisy print dress, and couldn't quite find it in her to snap at the woman's insinuation. Instead she just nodded and clicked out the hall in her regal heels, an imperceptible smile gracing her apple red lips.

For several weeks it was just Belle and Regina's dusty classics ornamenting the rooked shelf, another archaic addition to the crumbling library- probably the reason why it was ignored, or rather brushed over as another part of the architecture, by Storybrooke's masses. There was a crumpled sign tacked to the front, advertising the swap- defiled by Leroy's drunken scrawl- and an even more tired looking information leaflet explaining how it works:

Welcome to Storybrooke's Book Swap

We want to bring the community together- why don't you join in? Put a favourite book on the shelf, sign your name, and then take out another book. When you're finished, place it back and bring in another book to swap.

Simple!

Please ask Belle for more information.

Appalled by the bare shelves, Regina swiftly decided that a better campaign needed to be established and recruited Ruby, the diner's most popular waitress, to start spreading the word to customers (everyone in the sleepy town eats at Granny's). Several more days passed before a third book was placed on the shelf and Belle's moth eaten copy of "To Kill A Mockingbird" was checked out, eliciting great excitement from the petite brunette. Regina's mood was lifted too, especially when the number of books began to increase rapidly in abundance.

By week five, the shelf is full and a constant flow of Storybrookers' are signing in and out a multitude of titles and genres.

Regina starts her day like any other: coffee and a trip to the library. She has been enjoying the book swap much more than she has let on and today, in her hand, is a bright copy of "Peter Pan". Usually the idea of such a childish read would have her scoffing and commenting on its infantile portrayal of real life, yet there was something raw and so very real in the magic of Neverland that she refused to sleep until she had finished it.

She dodges the dents in the pavement and writes mental notes in regard to Storybrooke's maintenance yet fails notice the blur of a red leather jacket leaving the library. Instead she sees Henry Swan examining a copy of "Great Expectations".

"Surely that is a little old for you, dear?" she asks (bravely, as interactions with children never end very well, especially when concerning the Sheriff's 12-year –old).

"Maybe… but I like to be challenged," he replies, his eyes not leaving their glued position on the blurb.

"Right. I take it you like reading then?"

At this the boy lifts his head dramatically and genuinely smiles at her, "Yeah! I love to read."

Regina widens her eyes a little at his reaction and desperately tries to eschew the warmth that pools in her heart at his raw excitement. She glances down at the novel that is still in her hand and suddenly notices the small handwriting in the corner: Swan.

And she finds herself smiling back at him.

The boy leaves and Regina shifts over to the shelf, which is slowly sagging under the weight of titles. There is a pile of sticky notes to her left and the mayor peels one off and tacks it to the front cover, elegantly printing a note on to the yellow paper:

I didn't think I was going to enjoy this. I guess I never really grew up : )

She isn't sure why she so desperately wants to read another childish novel, but she does, and finds herself relieved at the sight of a tea stained "Alice In Wonderland". This one is in considerably worse condition than her previous read, surprising as Henry Swan strikes her as a boy who thrives on presentation. It does little to bother her though; a battered book is her guilty pleasure. Placing her own book on the shelf to complete the transaction (Oscar Wilde's, "A Picture Of Dorian Grey") she pulls out the new novel. Thank you, Henry.

"Madame Mayor? Sorry to, you know, disturb you but I really need to ask you something."

Regina heaves a sigh at Emma's message over the intercom and reluctantly presses the button to open her door. The Sheriff looks rather bedraggled in appearance; blonde curls a tangle atop of her head, red jacket tied round her waist and her left thumb frantically drawing circles over her beloved swan necklace. Yes, she is in quite a state.

Emma doesn't wait for Regina, instead she practically blurts out he worry as if it were projectile vomit. "Do you know where Henry is!? I can't find him anywhere!"

At this, the calm and composed Mayor inhales sharply. "When did you last see him?"

"Last night! I haven't seen him at all this morning."

"I assume you've asked Mary Margaret, Belle, Ruby, David etc…"

Emma's cheeks blush slightly and she fumbles for words, "Er no."

"No? Why on earth are you asking me then?"

Regina narrows her eyes, utterly confused yet intrigued to gauge Emma's reaction.

"Oh I'm sorry- it was- it doesn't matter- I'll ask- yeah I'll ask Ruby or- or someone," the blonde splutters exiting the room, her usually pale complexion now resembling that of a rose.

Regina remains stupefied, the words "I'll help you find him," suspended in nothingness.

Horrible images of Henry's whereabouts haunt her as she tries to sleep. She has no idea whether he has been found or not. Why should she? She isn't Emma's friend and she certainly isn't Henry's mother. Although she can't help hoping that she'll receive a call or even just a simple text to ease her worry. She sighs and flicks on her night lamp. It immediately illuminates the battered book she had taken out earlier that day, the wear and tear only magnified under the harsh artificial light. Hands gravitating towards it, she cradles the paper in her palms and begins to read the first page. It's quite a struggle; there are scratches and ink pools all over the writing- trails of water that have snaked across the surface in an angry zigzag. There are pencil markings too, underlining's and tiny little drawings of a rabbit holding a rather wiggly pocket watch that make Regina chuckle in light affection. A large drawing of the reader's interpretation of Alice can be found on the neighbouring page and, despite it not being a work of art, Regina can easily find the intention behind the light mark making.

She lifts the book out of the shade and suppresses a gasp at what she reads.

Sometimes I feel like Alice. I feel lonely and misunderstood. But there's no rabbit, no hole for me to escape to and certainly no Wonderland.

The book definitely belongs to Henry; a "Swan" can be seen very clearly on the first page in black Sharpie. Regina sighs and pictures the little boy that has grown up seemingly happy from what she has observed. If one ignores her incompetency, Emma is a loving mother and Henry has never been short of affection. But why on earth would he write that?

Regina has several options yet she chooses the safest: read the book. And she does. All of it. Leaving Storybrooke's Mayor with a myriad of unanswered questions and the belief that a book reveals much more about the owner than it does the story.

A/N: The question is… is it Henry's book though?

Please do review if you would like me to continue – I have so many ideas.