Present Day, Boston
was a crisp autumn night. Rachel Stevens had just finished up her latest assignment. After closing her laptop and taking one final sip of her now luke warm coffee, she got up from the cold park bench. She tossed the empty cup in the trash and put her laptop in its carrying case. Then she started walking down the lively street. After catching a glimpse of her reflection in an empty store window, she stopped and stared. Staring back at her was a beautiful young woman. Rachel had a radiant complexion and slim hourglass figure. She stood five foot, five inches tall. Her sparkling amber hair fell to her waist. The golden highlights accentuated her alluring eyes. But beyond her appearance, who was she really? This was a question she had been asking herself for a very long time.
Her eyes glanced over to a clock on the wall that read quarter to eleven.
I better go it's getting late, she thought to herself.
She hurried down the street, going into a quaint bakery on the corner. She then came out with a little pink box and continued down the road for a few blocks until she reached an apartment building. Rachel sighed as she struggled to get the key into the keyhole. After a moment she pulled the door open, and tossed her belongings on the counter. The studio apartment was small. But she really didn't mind. It was just a temporary residence. Mostly all of her things were still in boxes, which she became accustomed to. Being ready to pack up her car and go the moment she got restless. Rachel Stevens had lived in many places over the past decade, but none of them ever really felt like home. So when she decided it was time to move on, she would do just that.
After a hot shower, Rachel went to the refrigerator to retrieve the pink box from earlier. Inside was a rather large vanilla cupcake with lavender frosting and golden sprinkles. She brought it over to the counter and stuck a single candle in it. She lit the candle with a match and held it up to her face.
"Happy twenty-eighth birthday, whoever you are," she told herself. Then she closed her eyes and blew out the candle.
Suddenly Rachel heard a knock at her door, which was odd. She never stood in one place long enough to ever really make friends. Just acquaintances that never visited her. She put the cupcake down after another persistent knock.
"Who is it," she called out as she walked to the door.
"Henry Mills," the voice of a child answered.
A confused Rachel opened the door partially and saw a small boy who couldn't have been more than twelve. He had auburn hair and judging by how pale he was, probably didn't get out much. He wore a wool pea coat, that looked expensive and a little itchy. He also carried a khaki backpack on his left shoulder.
"I'm sorry do I know you?" she asked the boy.
"No," he answered. "But I know you. You're Rachel Stevens."
Surprised by his response, she opened the door all the way.
"How do you know my name? And what are you doing here so late, it's after midnight."
"Can I come in please, I promise I can explain everything."
Rachel moved aside and the mysterious boy walked into the apartment with a grin. He took a seat on the sofa and put his backpack on the floor beside him.
"To answer your first question," he said in a matter of fact way. "I found you online, you're a private investigator, right?"
Rachel nodded and took a seat across from Henry.
"Do your parents always let you visit strangers in the middle of the night?"
"Well, it's just my mom," Henry interrupted. "And she doesn't exactly know I'm here."
"Where do you live, I can take you home."
Rachel got up and began to look for her car keys.
"Maine."
Her mouth dropped open in shock. She turned and faced the boy who now looked quite anxious.
"I don't believe this! What were you thinking? How did you get here and why would you come all the way here to see me?!"
"Because you're the only one who can help me," said Henry and he began rummaging around in his backpack.
"Help you do what," she asked crossing her arms.
"Break the curse."
The boy pulled out a particularly large book and handed it to Rachel. It was an elegant sort of book bound in brown leather, with a beautiful inscription that read Once Upon A Time on the cover.
"What's this," she asked, flipping through the pages. "A book of fairytales? What does this have to do with anything?"
"The stories in this book are real and so are the people in them. Just like you."
The boy took the book and turned to a page that read Sleeping Beauty and gave it back to her.
"See there you are," he exclaimed, pointing to an illustration of a dormant princess. "You're Princess Aurora, aka Sleeping Beauty."
Rachel sighed heavily and shut the book.
"Look, I know what your thinking," Henry began, taking the book back from her. "I'm just a kid and it sounds crazy. But it's really true, honest!"
"Okay," she said rolling her eyes. "Listen, why don't you call your mom and-"
"You have to believe me!" he nearly shouted.
Rachel paused for a moment and looked at the crestfallen boy. He seemed so upset and she couldn't understand why.
"Alright," she said finally. "Say I believe you and I'm this fairytale princess. How exactly does that help you?"
"Like I said," he said opening the book once again. " You are the only one that can break the curse."
"Meaning?"
The boy began to flip through the book and explain to Rachel that she along with many other fairytale characters were under a magic spell cast by an evil queen. The consequence of the spell was that they were all transported to this world with no memories of who they really were or their former lives.
"You see the Evil Queen, that's my mom. Well, in this world she isn't a queen. She's actually the mayor. She isn't even my real mom either. Cinderella is, but I was taken from her when I was a baby, because of a deal she made with Rumplestilskin-"
"Slow down Henry, this is getting hard to follow."
"Don't worry, I'll explain it better on the way to Storybrooke."
"Storybrooke," said Rachel with a raised brow.
"That's where I live. We should get going, the sooner we get there the sooner you can break the curse."
Rachel sat back down feeling quite overwhelmed by her young visitor.
"Henry, you seem like a great kid and obviously you have a wonderful imagination, but what you're telling me is just not possible."
"But it's true," the boy declared. "I can prove it. When you were sixteen, you were found wandering alone in the woods just outside of Maine, weren't you? And you had no memories of anything before that, right?"
"How did you know that?"
"It was because of my mom's curse!"
"This is ridiculous, call your mother and tell her you're coming home."
After about an hour of trying to get Henry to call home, Rachel became fed up with the boy. Clearly he was troubled, but this was not the sort of help she offered to people.
"Alright," she said after briefly leaving the boy so she could figure out what to do with him. "Since you wouldn't call your mom and won't give me her number, I just made a call to the Storybrooke police department. I spoke with the sheriff, who told me he would contact your mother.
Henry's countenance had fallen once again. The boy placed his book back inside the backpack and dragged it across the floor. Rachel couldn't help but feel sorry for him, after all she recognized that look. The look of disappointment. It was the same one she got every time one of her leads turned cold.
"Hey, why don't I make us some hot chocolate? We can drink it while you wait for your mom to come and maybe you can read me some of your fairytales."
"Why bother, you don't believe anyway."
Just as Rachel opened her mouth to speak, her cell phone rang.
"Hello, this is Rachel...what...but Sheriff Nolan told me...no, no I understand. I'll take care of it."
"What is it," Henry said hesitantly.
"Unfortunately," Rachel said in a slightly annoyed tone. "Mayor Mills finds herself unable to retrieve you. I was asked to put you on the next bus to Maine, but my superpower is telling me your better off with me. So I guess I'm your ride."
Henry's grin went from ear to ear. Rachel stuck her tongue out at him, which made him smile. She smiled back, thinking about how unusual this all was. Although he was a stranger to her, she felt a strong desire to help him. After all, Rachel had always had a soft spot in her heart for abandoned creatures. Even though Henry obviously had a home and a family he belonged to, she saw it in his eyes. Loneliness. Another feeling she knew all too well.
Earlier That Night, Storybrooke
Regina Mills walked through the front door of her lavish home. It is decorated like a regal forest covered in silver. Of course, there were stunning mirrors in every room. And every table top in the house dressed with a basket of the reddest apples anyone had ever seen. Their dazzling skin made them look like rubies in sunlight. The apples were picked exclusively from a tree grown in her own garden, which had been in Regina's family for generations. Aside from her son, it was her most prized possession.
"Henry," Regina calls as she tosses her car keys on a mantle in the entryway. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I picked up dinner from Granny's on my way home."
Regina then hurried to the kitchen placing two large brown paper bags on the island counter top.
"Henry," she called once more as she unloads the containers of food and sets them aside. "It's your favorite, grilled cheese and fries."
Henry ddis not answer his mother's calls. A frustrated Regina stops setting up dinner and made her way to the hallway staircase that leads to the bedrooms upstairs.
"Henry Daniel Mills, you better not be on that same video game you were playing when I left this morning!"
Regina angrily climbs the stairs. She knew the boy was upset with her, and had been for weeks now. Henry Mills was deprived of nothing. There wasn't a thing Regina did not give to her son, except for the truth. The complications of how their life came to be was putting a strain on their relationship. For over a decade she kept it all from him, from everyone, but lately things were starting to unravel. It all began when that book showed up.
"Henry," she shouts as she reaches the top of the staircase. "You answer me!"
Regina storms into Henry's bedroom to find it completely empty. Frantically, she searches the rest of the house. Grabbing her cell phone, she dials Henry's number. Her calls go straight to voicemail.
"Damn it," she yells.
She makes another call, this time to the Storybrooke police department. Sheriff Nolan assures her that Henry's fine. He tells her that he will send his deputy around town to look for him. The sheriff will try to track Henry's phone location.
An anxious Regina then grabs the keys to her Mercedes-Benz and rushes out the door. She drives over to a street that is lined with shops. It was late and the lights are off in all but one. She parks in front and speedily walks over to the shop. The sign above it reads Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer.
"Hello Mr. Gold," Regina beckoned as she knocks on the door. "It's Regina!"
As she peers through the store windows, a man emerges from a behind a curtain that leads to a room in back. He goes over and unlocks and opens the door slightly.
"Madam Mayor," he says in a cheery voice. "To what to I owe this pleasure?"
"May I come in Mr. Gold," she insists. "It's urgent."
"Please do."
Gold steps aside allowing Regina entry. The shop is filled with all sorts of unique items. Some in the glass cases, some on the shelves. One particular item that catches Regina's eye is a mobile that hangs near the cash register. It was adorned with crystal figurines of tiny songbirds.
"Interested in that piece? It's not really your taste, if you don't mind my saying."
"I'm not here to buy anything. It's my son actually."
"Ah, young Henry," says Gold taking a rag and polishing a pocket watch he was holding. "Tell me, how is the boy doing?"
"He's gone and I have no idea where he is. I'm terribly worried."
"I'm sure he'll turn up soon."
"It's not just that," Regina says grimly. "I'm afraid he knows things."
"Well of course he does," he replies. "Kids today know a lot of things."
"I mean about his origins."
Gold stops polishing and looks up at Regina with a confused expression on his face.
"You mean about his adoption? I thought you told him about that years ago?"
Regina stares back at the man blankly. He seemed like he had no idea what she meant.
You don't know do you, she says silently to herself.
In twelve years they never mentioned it, but Regina was certain Mr. Gold was the only other one that knew the truth. She couldn't understand it. She was slightly disappointed but also a bit relieved.
"You're right," she laughs nervously. "I'm sure it's nothing. He's probably at a friend's. I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Please do let me know when the boy turns up."
Regina nods and then turns around.
"Goodnight Mr. Gold."
She walks out of the shop. Gold returns to his pocket watch just as the door slams shut.
"Goodnight, Your Majesty."
Rachel put on her black leather coat and grabbed the door knob. Before she closed the door, she looked back inside for a moment. She slowly scanned the room, almost as if it was the last time she would ever see it. It was odd, because that's what she did that every time she moved out of an apartment.
"Is everything okay," Henry asked.
"Ya," she said, shaking her head. "Let's go."
She and Henry walked around the corner. Parked beneath a dim street lamp was a 1966 Mustang convertible. It was a bluish silver color, and in great condition considering how old it was.
"This is your car," Henry beamed. Rachel smiled proudly, opening a backseat door for the boy. The car was the most important thing she owned. Not because of it's value. But because of how she came to own it. They drove in complete quiet for about forty minutes until Rachel finally broke the silence.
"Are you hungry? If you want I can stop and get you some food."
"No that's okay. I ate on the bus."
"You know it was a pretty dangerous thing you did Henry. What were you thinking anyway?"
"I already told you. I had to find you and bring you back home. You're the only one who can save Storybrooke."
"Henry, I track down long lost relatives and do some surveillance."
"But your more than that. You're the Savior."
She let out a small sigh. This was getting exhausting.
"Rachel, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
Henry leaned forward so he was in between the two font seats.
"Earlier you said you had a superpower. What did you mean?"
"Oh that," she giggled. "For as long as I can remember, I've always had these really strong gut instincts. Like I can always tell if someone is lying."
"And you call it your superpower."
"It's silly, I know."
"No, I think it's cool," Henry said leaning back into his seat. "I think you're cool Rachel."
"Thanks Henry. You're cool too."