AN: I've tried to stick to the show timeline with this chapter as much as I could, weaving Grace into what was happening around Storybrooke at this time (the curse breaking, the purple cloud of magic returning, the storm the wraith brought with it etc.).

I hope you enjoy. Reviews are very much appreciated :)

Chapter 2 – The Search

Paige was sitting at her desk, tapping the end of her pencil against the wood as she pondered the best way to answer the questions she'd been set for homework the day before. She'd done her Math sheets before she went to bed, but, in her eagerness to start her new book, she'd forgotten about her English. Seeing it peeking out of her backpack as she got dressed, she glanced at the clock. Sighing in relief, not wanting to be in trouble for not doing her homework, she realised that, if she worked quickly, she might have time to get it done before she had to leave for school. As the minutes ticked by however, she was beginning to think it couldn't be done; it was too complicated!

Paige's brow furrowed as she thought back to what they'd done in class yesterday morning, sifting through the information and activities to help her complete the worksheets. Remembering something Miss Blanchard had said, she started to write her answer for the first question. But before she'd even written four words, a sudden gust washed over her, causing her to drop her pencil with a clatter, the sharp yet warm wind blowing her hair and fluttering the pages on her desk. She froze, stunned. It was like liquid light was pouring through her brain, creeping its way into every crevice, filling in gaps which she hadn't even noticed were there. Memories came rushing back, all at once, happiness, fear, grief, laughter, worry, pulling her every which way. Memories of her real name, her real home in the Enchanted Forest, her kind neighbours…her real father. Her father! Papa!

She was suddenly assaulted with the pain of their separation, his loss, the gnawing, ever-present grief. But a flickering spark of hope ignited somewhere in her mind; at home, he'd been torn from her, kept from her, but here…? The Queen had cursed everyone and brought them to Storybrooke, she knew that now; she didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she inexplicably knew it was the truth. Her Papa could be here! He could. She could find him and they could be a family again! Maybe the curse wasn't the terrible thing the Queen had meant it to be after all, she thought joyfully, hope sparking within her. What was it her Papa always used to say? Silver lining?

Darting from her chair, she rushed to the window, looking out over Storybrooke, scanning the town in the morning light. If the Queen had brought everyone to Storybrooke, no matter where they had been when she'd cursed them, then maybe her Papa was here too! Her Papa could be out there, somewhere, and if he was, she was going to find him. She refused to think about the much more likely possibility that he wasn't, clinging to the desperate hope that she would see her beloved father again.

Sprinting down the stairs, scrambling to find her shoes, she dashed out of the front door, leaving it swinging behind her.

I'm coming, Papa, she thought. I'll find you!

Grace frowned, turning round another corner, scouring another street. She was out of breath, running through the town, peering into windows, determined to find her Papa. She scanned every face, some smiling in joyful reunion when they found their friends, others clearly searching for loved ones, the same as she was. With every pounding step on the pavement, the hope and fear warred within her. She was sure she would have found him by now.

But… Maybe he didn't want to find her. Maybe he'd left her all those years ago in the forest and built a new life. Maybe he'd been happy living his new life in Storybrooke without her. Maybe he didn't want her to find him. She'd been the reason he'd left in the first place, put himself in danger because of her, so maybe he blamed her for whatever had happened to him in their world; maybe he didn't want to see her in this one. The remembered guilt from her memories came crashing down on her, almost crippling her. It was all her fault and maybe he hated her for it.

Grace's frantic feet halted, the horrible thought scattering through her mind before she stamped them down, her buckled foot literally stamping into the concrete in denial. Her Papa would scold her something awful for thinking like that, telling her it was his choice. Her father loved her, she knew that, more than life itself. She knew he would do anything for her. He would do everything and anything in his power to be with her, to find her again, both in their world and Storybrooke. She knew it, as sure as the sun would rise.

But…if she couldn't find him, if he wasn't here...then that would mean… Her Papa was…

"No!" Grace exclaimed out loud, refusing to think about the dreadful alternative. He was here, she told herself; she just had to keep trying.

Spinning on the spot, she scanned the crowds, happy shouts, hugs and reunions taking place all around her. She would keep looking. Her father would never give in, and neither would she. Clenching her fists, she decided where to search next, her feet hurrying her along, eyes darting everywhere, terrified she might pass him by accident or miss a clue as to his whereabouts. She was going to find her Papa, even if she had to search every last street and building!

She stood, frozen, on the sidewalk, her search halted as she helplessly stared at the terrifying cloud billowing down the street towards her. She had no idea what it was but something, some nameless dread from deep down inside, told her it was nothing good. She stumbled back, helplessly glancing around with wide, fearful eyes for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide, wishing her Papa was with her, to keep her safe, to hold her close.

"Papa, Papa, Papa," she whispered frantically, distractedly, fear threatened to consume her as she backed away. "Papa! Help me!"

As the cloud reached her, she threw herself to the ground in an effort to protect herself, curled up into a ball, arms thrown round her head. It stole her breath as it swept over her, its cold yet burning tendrils licking around her, its thick, swirling ash choking her, blinding her.

"Papa!" she screamed, the cloud raging above her, swirling around her, biting at her skin, tugging relentlessly at her hair and clothes.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Grace couldn't be sure, it was all over. There was fresh air in her lungs once more, warmth of the morning sun on her skin. Grace hesitated, breathing heavily, waiting to see if it had passed. Slowly peeking out from under her arms, she cautiously sat up, brushing her wind-swept hair from her face. Twisting where she was, shoes scraping on the concrete, she couldn't feel any pain. Gingerly she got her feet underneath her and pushed herself up.

What was that?! she wondered. It seemed familiar somehow, from her life in the forest, but she couldn't be sure, her memories and lives blurring and overlapping confusingly in her mind.

Shaking her head, she tried to refocus. Her search to find her Papa. That was what was important. Tucking her hair behind her ears with still shaking hands, she glanced up and down the street. Choosing a direction, she set off once more.

Grace could hear shouting from a few streets over. The sound of angry feet marching over angry voices. Cautiously creeping forwards, she peered around the corner, hands resting against the cool wall. In the distance she could see a small crowd gathered. She could just about make out Granny and Ruby, Miss Blanchard and the man who used to be in a coma…Daniel? David? She wasn't sure. Emma and Henry were there, so was Leroy. She didn't know who they'd been in the Enchanted Forest, but it didn't matter. She knew them here, at least a little, knowing their faces from around town; maybe they could help her find her Papa.

Taking a step out into the street, the distant shouting become louder, angrier, people striding through the crossroads between her and Miss Blanchard's friends, Grace hesitated. She watched as Miss Blanchard and her friends hurried after the crowd, leaving her alone. Her heart sank. Things were looking more and more hopeless. She didn't know what was going on, why everyone seemed so angry or where they were going; she couldn't hear their words clearly to figure anything out on her own. The streets were practically deserted, the harsh voices and shouts becoming more and more distant. Grace leant against the wall, head tilted back as she looked up to the bright blue sky.

"Where are you, Papa?" she whispered, eyes closing as tears clung stubbornly to her eyelashes.

Grace exited the post office, bell clanging behind her as the door swung closed. She'd searched all day and it was getting dark. Her feet were beginning to hurt and her head was aching terribly. Her stomach rumbled, upset with her for not stopping for food all day. She could almost hear her father's voice in her head, scolding her for not looking after herself. Running a hand across her face, closing her eyes as the evening light stung them, Grace felt the despair rising. There was no sign of her Papa anywhere.

She startled as she heard a deafening bang coming from a short distance behind her, car alarms starting to blare, causing the pain in her head to grow even more. The dim light of evening quickly faded into darkness, wind beginning to howl around her, tossing dried leaves and abandoned litter into the air. Another bang echoed through the street as she spun where she stood, not understanding what on earth was happening. The darkness which had fallen was not the darkness of night; it was thick, suffocating, oppressive. She cried out as the ground lurched beneath her feet, throwing her aside. She collided with the brick wall, scratching her hands as she tried to catch her fall. Pressing herself back against the brick, feet spreading into a wide stance, bent knees, to keep her balance, one hand on the rough surface to steady herself, one hand flung out for stability as the ground trembled again.

The telephone wires were sparking overhead, raining down an electric shower around her, briefly lighting up the rapidly darkening street. The streetlights flickered and short-circuited, the bulbs shattering, glass shards scattering through the air. Grace ducked and ran to avoid the sharp crystal splinters. The ground shook again causing her to lose her footing. With a cry, Grace fell, throwing out her hands to save herself. Her knees hit the ground, skin grazing at the impact, but she barely felt it over the stinging in her already-scratched hand as the soft flesh of her palm was shredded and torn.

Forcing herself to her feet, Grace ran to the shops on the other side of the street, wedging herself into one of the deeper-set doorways, trying to find some protection and shelter from the howling wind and the destruction around her. Cradling her bleeding hand into her lap, tucking her knees up to be as small as possible, she covered her head with her other arm, breathing coming harsh and terrified. She just wanted to be somewhere safe. She wanted to go home. She wanted her Papa.

Once the strange storm had passed, the choking darkness having fading back into the natural dusk-light, Grace stumbled dizzily to her feet, her head feeling like it was about to split apart, but she couldn't go home, not yet. She couldn't.

She continued her search, heart-sick and desperate, her tired feet slowing and faltering as the dusk light began to fade for real, night well and truly falling, but she refused to give up, flashlight in hand, borrowed from the hardware store for when the streetlights failed her. This was how Tobias and Sara found her soon after. They'd been frantic when she'd disappeared and they'd been unable to find her. They were still reeling from the day's revelation and resurfacing memories of their own, trying to reconcile their different lives and memories, but their over-riding concern was to find Grace. They didn't know where she'd gone and how she was coping with everything.

Tobias had miraculously spotted her, weaving unsteadily on her feet further down the street, her little light flashing in the semi-darkness. Sara had sent up a quick prayer of thanks that they'd found her, sick with worry at Grace being out in the unnatural storm all alone; she prayed that she was ok.

Running down the street to catch up with her, Tobias softly called her name, reaching out to touch her shoulder, turning her around.

Grace peered up at the man before her, squinting slightly against the ever-growing pain in her head as she tried to make out his features. Her eyes were not adjusting well to the dim light of her surroundings and the beam of the artificial flashlight. She wavered on her feet, leaning into the support the man offered her, keeping her steady. Could it be…?

"Papa?" she asked blearily, her eyes not quite focused, her expression pinched with pain.

"No, Grace, it's me. Tobias."

Blinking, Grace shook her head, her neighbour and guardian coming into clearer focus.

"Tobias? I… Sara?" she asked.

Sara appeared at Tobias' side, her expression worried.

"Sara," Grace breathed. "Tobias."

Despite her exhaustion, Grace smiled. Her neighbours, whom she'd known as her parents for the last 28 years, had found her. She stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around them both, loving them for being Tobias and Sara as well as her (surrogate) parents. They hugged her tightly in return. But despite Grace's joy at being reunited with them (and wasn't that a strange feeling, having spent every day for 28 years with them!?) she refused to return home when they asked. She ignored their stern cajoling and pleas for her to come back with them, to continue the search tomorrow. She needed to sleep, they argued desperately, wanting to make sure she was ok.

Grace could feel the truth in their words; she was exhausted, sick to her stomach and the terrible ache in her head had become so painful it almost over-powered the pain in her heart for her Papa. The dull pressure of feeling like she had too many memories to fit had morphed into blinding, shooting pains sparking through her skull. She gripped Sara's sleeve harder, twisting the material in her fists as she tried to cope with the pain. Her memories as Paige and Grace were slipping in and out of focus, merging and fracturing confusingly until her head spun. She felt like she was one of those boats she'd seen in the harbour went Miss Blanchard had taken them to learn about water safety and life boats, being tossed about on a restless sea, but without an anchor or rope to keep her grounded and steady. She needed her anchor; she needed her Papa!

Grace tried focusing on just one world's memories at a time, so she could deal with the onslaught and concentrate on finding her Papa, but it was no use. The pressure and the erratic sparks only kept on getting worse, her vision blurring as she stubbornly continued to cling onto Sara. It was only as her vision hazed and faded completely, the sounds of one of her Papa's lullabies echoing in her ears, did her muscles betray her, her body crumpling to the floor as it gave in, a soft "Papa" escaping her lips as she fell. Tobias and Sara managed to catch her however before she hit the concrete, supporting and guiding her back to their house.

Setting her carefully onto the sofa, they worriedly took in her pale face, glazed eyes, her practically catatonic state, responding to neither their words nor their touches. She didn't even flinch when Sara cleaned her cuts, the sting of the antiseptic going unnoticed. Her lips where slowly moving, mouthing silent words, sounding out her memories, conversations she'd had and was reliving in her head. The shape of the word 'Papa' was easily the most recognisable and common, increasing in frequency until Grace was clearly repeating that name under her breath like a mantra, holding on to the word, onto the precious memory of her father, like a talisman. Her hope in her crumbling, kaleidoscoping world.

Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter coming soon :)