I really don't know how I end up doing these things. 3:30 a.m. and I'm still rifling through hospital records. What's Henry got over me that I can't say no to the kid? One smile, one garbled message on the office answer phone, and here I am, knee-deep in paper again. Maybe I'm a little crazy too.

"Are you sure this is everything?"

The solemn director of the hospital gives a nod. Superpower time. He's a serious liar.

"This is every single patient in this building right now."

"Every section, every ward," he assures, in a very suit-and-tie kind of way.

"And the restricted ward, that's here too?"

The director's face falls just a little. "Well sheriff, you see..."

"So these aren't all the patients?"

Getting somewhere at last. He squirms on his feet, looking from wall to wall. I give him time and an expectant look. Time is crucial to bail-bonds-people. Time is the difference between backing them into a corner and having them pour our their hearts.

"It's only one patient. And the file is, well, restricted."

I fold my arms Sheriff-style, like Graham used to. Give him another look.

"I just need a name."

More pauses, more time. It's not like I'm getting a good night's sleep tonight anyway.

"Caroline French."

-::-

"Spooky co-incidence huh?"

Emma really is the best mom a kid could hope for. She looks wrecked, totally wrecked. But she has great news. I push myself up on the wall of the schoolyard a little more.

"Watch it Tarzan, you're gonna fall."

"But it's amazing," I say. "Don't you think so?"

"That your special patient could be related to the guy Gold just whaled on? Sure. But then you have a weird instinct for these things, don't ya?"

I'm not sure if instinct is the right word, it makes me wonder whether she's denying that it all fits, but the news is too good to start wondering things like that. I push up on the wall more, starting to get over it.

"Now hang on there buster... What exactly are you doing?"

I can't believe she has to ask.

"Going to see Mr Gold, of course."

Emma gets in my way so I can't get down onto her side. "Oh no," she says. "You stay in here today, no quality time with the violent loner for you."

I can't believe she's doing this to me. Why hand me such amazing news and then not let me share it? A voice from the playground calls, and I can feel my insides shrinking.

"Henry! Get down from there, you'll hurt yourself!"

Don't get me wrong: I like Mary-Margaret, but her timing is just too perfect. Emma hears her too.

"Gotta go kid. Stay put for now, ok?"

The recess bell rings. I jump back into the schoolyard, head rushing with all sorts of new ideas.

-::-

I'm almost asleep on the desk of the shop when the door flies open. Images of the cup kept me awake last night. I choose to think it's a good sign, maybe the magic of the cup is finally leading me somewhere. I find I might be right, as Henry approaches the desk.

"Is there somewhere less obvious we can talk? I've got great news!"

He beams at me, like he wants to show me a new action figure. For a moment I see my own boy, at Henry's age. I push the memory aside.

"Just a moment."

With the shop on early close, I take Henry to the back room, where some of my more expensive oddities are stored. He fixes himself on an old oak chair whilst I stand, leaning on the door in case of unwanted guests.

"So?"

He smiles, takes in a breath. "The story of Beauty and the Beast, the real story, do you know how it ends?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"She dies. Belle dies."

He shakes his head. Though I had suspected he might know more than I, it still surprises me when he speaks again.

"Not in my book."

He pulls a schoolbook from his backpack, flipping to the back pages.

"I wrote down what I could remember in Geometry today. Belle is punished by her father for her love for the Beast, and sent to a tower to suffer eternally."

I feel a little sick at the thought.

"The Beast thinks she's dead, but really the Queen still holds her captive in the tower."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The boy notices. He smiles. Perhaps this is the time.

"Henry," I begin, approaching the boy. I perch on the edge of a crate beside his chair. He eyes the cane in my hand. I toss it aside. "Am I right in thinking that you still hold the belief that the people of Storybrooke come from... somewhere else?"

The smile drops a little on his face. "I do, because it's true. You just don't remember."

This is the time. I have to tell him if I'm going to get any more out of him. Besides, who will believe him, even if he knows a part of the truth about me? I put on my best expression of seriousness. A trait I've been practising since my arrival in this realm.

"What if I told you... that I remember everything?"

Henry's eyes glitter with pure hope. He waits, doting on my words. But they aren't quite enough to seal this particular deal. I smile a little.

"You were right about David and Mary-Margaret."

He jumps in his seat, mouth open in a smile.

"I didn't really know them, you understand. It was a big kingdom. But everyone knew of the romance of Snow White and the Prince."

"And Archie? Doctor Hopper?" He says, eyes narrowed. I could almost laugh. He's actually testing me.

"Jiminy Cricket."

He gasps, then laughs. "This is amazing." There is a long pause. "What about Emma?"

I wonder how far his little storybook goes into that affair. I shouldn't like to give away something 'the Beast' ought not to know.

"She wasn't there. At least, I don't remember her."

"Then it's true." He smiles, as if all has been decided. "You are the Beast."

I simply nod. It's true enough for my purposes here. "So how about it Henry? If Belle, as you say, is not dead, where is the Queen keeping her?"

He jiggles in the old chair like he's bursting to say. "I asked Emma to track her down, you're not going to believe it!"

His excitement is contagious. If he's right, if he can tell me where she is, then everything is about to change.

"I don't believe it either," says a voice outside the door. It opens, and she stands there, all golden hair and self-righteousness. "Especially since I told you not to come here less than two hours ago."

And he's gone. By the shoulder, guided out before I have a moment to protest. My call to the Sheriff is lost amidst the lecture she's giving the boy. I watch the one scrap of information I desperately need being dragged out down the street.

Still, the wheels are in motion. I suppose I'll just have to make it a little easier for Henry to run into me again, and hope that whatever he knows is ready and waiting for me when I do.

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