I chose the name Meghan because I found some website saying the name meant "pearl" in Welsh. It might be the truth or a lie, but that's why I chose it. It really had nothing to do with Ruby's actress name.

It also has some connections with the welsh name "Margaret". So Meghan is kinda named after Emma's mother, even though Emma doesn't know her mother, while Henry is named after Regina's father. :)

Emma sliced through the umbilical cord with a shiv. The birth had been hard on her. But she supposed most things were difficult when done in an ice cold jail cell. The unnatural blizzard outside had kept her from a real hospital. Blizzards were rare weather in Phoenix, Arizona, but they did happen. The prison staff had been kind enough to move her to a private jail cell and provide her with blankets for the baby and water to clean herself up. The shiv had actually been donated to her by a generous fellow inmate. They didn't have anything else on hand at the time. Emma thought the blizzard could also be a small blessing in disguise. If she had given birth in the hospital, she would have immediately been relieved of her baby and returned to jail, alone. At least she had a few hours with her new son until the storm ceased. Only a few hours to ponder what to do about her child's future.

Emma Swan stumbled out of the rain into her apartment, dripping water everywhere. She sneezes, but feels better at the drastic change in temperature. The apartment is warm and cozy. "Mom!", the irritated voice of her 14-year-old daughter calls out, "You're dripping all over the place!"

Emma grumbles noncommittally. She hates being treated like a child by her own daughter, even when she deserves it. Meghan sighs in exasperation and goes to fetch her soggy mother a towel from the bathroom. Emma collapses into a chair close to the heat vent as Meghan comes back into the room and tosses her the towel carelessly. Emma tries to remember to pretend to be the mom. "Did you do your homework?"

Meghan rolls her eyes, "What do you think?"

"Hmmph!" Emma's eyes flit around the room looking for a better topic of distraction.

"What was it this time?" Meghan begins.

Emma interrupts before she can say more, "That bastard locked me out in the rain! I was chasing him down a side street and somehow he got the drop on me!"

"So in other words, you lost your keys again?" Meghan disapproves.

Emma sighs and combs through her wet hair. "Yes...so I had to walk home in the rain. We'll have to get all the locks changed again, just to be safe."

Meghan finds the extra copy of the car keys, jingles them and tosses them to Emma. "Go find your car. I'll have supper ready by the time you get back."

"But I'm cold..." Emma whines.

"But you're already wet," Meghan smirks, "so it doesn't matter if you go back out into the rain again."

Another point scored firmly in her daughter's column again. Emma shakes her head and mutters curses under her breathe as she heads out the door. The only motivation being the warm meal her daughter has promised her upon her return.

Emma trudges through the rain, shivering every time the wind blows down the street. To keep her mind off of the cold, her thoughts wander off into the past...

Emma had given birth to a son in prison when she was only 18 years old. She chose to give the baby up for adoption because she had no stable job and not a penny to her name. It had been a hard decision, but one that likely pushed Emma to excel in finding a stable occupation in less than two years after being released from prison. Now that her life was stable, she wanted her child back. But that was impossible. It had been a closed adoption. So Emma found her own closed adoption...

Emma found her yellow bug parked outside the vacant office building where she had left it. Brushing her wet, windblown hair out of her face, she unlocked the car and climbed inside. After turning the heater up as high as it would go, she carefully made her way back to the apartment. The rain threw itself in buckets against the windshield as Emma continued to sink deeper into nostalgia...

She still wondered sometimes what had possessed her to adopt a child after giving up her biological one. Maybe she felt lonely or guilty. Maybe she thought she could recapture the relationship she would have had if she hadn't made a mess of her life and got herself landed in prison.

Emma loved her daughter very much, but lately she felt so guilty for taking her away from a potentially better life, a better adoptive parent. They were poor. Emma's job as a bail bondswoman helped pay the rent, but it would never help provide her daughter with all the things Emma wanted to give her child. While Emma chased down criminals, Meghan went to school, kept the house clean, and taught herself to cook. She was more responsible and down to earth than Emma had ever been. Meghan also made ridiculously good grades in school, despite going to the poorest school in the district. It made Emma so proud to have such a brilliant daughter, but it also made her that much more guilty at being unable to provide her with more. Meghan was talented, she clearly deserved a better school and more opportunities. But she had been adopted by Emma: a worthless, lonely, thieving orphan.

Emma lifted herself out of her depressing thoughts as she neared the door of her apartment.

Meghan watched her mother leave before heading back into the kitchen. They would be having spaghetti tonight, one of Emma's favorites. Meghan was sure her mother would cheer up once she saw what was for dinner. Something was going on with her mother recently, but Meghan couldn't put her finger on it. She stirred the tomato sauce in the pan thoughtfully, before her musings were interrupted by the doorbell. Meghan started in surprise before glancing warily at the door. It wouldn't be the first time they had gotten a "surprise" visitor late at night. They lived in a dangerous area of Boston after all. Meghan picked up the baseball bat from the closet before she made her way to the peephole in the door. She couldn't see anyone. Alarm bells in her head went off at that. Gripping the bat tighter, she slowly nudged the door open and took a peek.

"Hey, does Emma Swan live here?" a small voice called out. Meghan opened the door wider, only to find a 10-year-old boy easily slip his way into the apartment like a bar of soap shot out of a cannon.

Meghan just barely managed not to club the surprising intruder. "What the hell, kid? Where did you come from?"

The boy made a face at her, "Mom says you're not supposed to use bad words."

"Who are you? And why are you in my apartment?"

"My name is Henry." Henry smiled at her pleasantly. "Do you have any milk?" he added, suddenly curious, and shot off into the kitchen before Meghan could close her gaping mouth.

Her mother entered a moment later, while Meghan was still staring, her brain frozen and trying to compute.

"What's going on?" Emma picked up the towel again and started to dry her hair.

"There's some random kid in the kitchen and he's drinking our milk." Meghan stared at her mother, looking for a hint of how to proceed with this issue.

"What?" Emma barked and stumbled into kitchen.

"Hi, I'm Henry." the boy chirped happily after he finished drinking straight from the carton. "Are you Emma Swan?"

"Look kid, who are you?" Emma demanded.

"I'm your son." Henry explained, "You gave me up for adoption 10 years ago. Remember?"

For a moment, the whole world spun before Emma Swan's eyes as she took deep breaths in an attempt not to pass out. Her son? No...no no no! This couldn't be happening. Emma's thoughts tumbled over themselves in hyperactivity. Meghan stared at her mother in shock, then back at Henry. She narrowed her eyes. "You're lying."

"Nope." Henry took another sip of his milk. "She's really my mom. That's why I came all the way here to find her. Who are you, by the way?" Henry asked, like he was suddenly noticing her for the first time.

"I'm her daughter." Meghan ground out. "So I would know if my mother had any other children, wouldn't I? I don't know what you're trying to pull, kid...but you're not gonna give my mom a heart attack with your sick mind games and..."

Emma suddenly touched her shoulder, signaling her to stop. "Meghan... I'm sorry...He's telling the truth."

For the second time that night Meghan's mouth fell open, "What?!"

This was me trying to come up with a reason for why the hell Emma Swan was forced to use a shiv and why she wasn't transported to a hospital. Even incarcerated women are taken to the hospital when it is time for the birth.

Whoops, keeping secrets as big as that from your daughter, Emma. Not a great policy, ya know.