A/N: Finally got me a beta reader-and I want to thank her for doing such an awesome job! So, thanks to shopowner93. If you haven't read her story "Beliving In Henry" then you need to. It's FANTASTIC! Bucket loads of angst here.

Henry sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hospital waiting room. His day had started out promising, when he learned that Emma had asked to see Grandpa James. In fact, Henry had even smiled when he heard that bit of news, something that he hadn't done in quite sometime. Then his grandfather woke up and scared Emma, and he had watched as she ran from the only family that she truly knew.

Graham had pulled him into his side, as he told his grandma to follow Emma. Henry felt a little better knowing that his mother wouldn't be alone for long. It had hurt to watch his grandpa freak out over Emma disappearing, and it had broken his heart when he had to be sedated.

It wasn't long after that, Graham's phone had rung and he had whispered angry retorts into the phone. Henry had known that he was worried, not only for James but for Emma's sake as well. So, Henry had concluded that Graham was talking to his mother, which meant that something was probably wrong. Suddenly Graham pulled Henry out into the waiting room by his hand and bent down in front of him.

"Henry. Your grandma had an accident. I need to go help her right now. Can you do me a favor?" Henry really liked Graham, and respected his authority—even if he wasn't the sheriff anymore. He nodded softly. "Can you sit right there and not move? I don't have time to find someone to sit with you. I swear I will be right back."

Henry sighed, and bit his lip. He wouldn't cry, he was going to be eleven soon. Eleven-year old boys didn't cry-they were strong and brave. Lifting his head, Henry nodded stiffly. "I promise." His voice cracked slightly.

"You are such a brave boy, Henry." Graham said, before smiling at him and ruffling his hair.

With that, Henry had clamored over to a chair and sat down. That had been fifteen minutes ago, Henry knew because his eyes hadn't left the clock since he sat down. Henry watched as Dr. Whale walked past, his steps hurried. He craned his head and looked behind him, and watched as the side door out of the hospital opened to reveal Emma who rushed inside followed by Graham who held his grandmother in his arms. Her body was limp, and Henry feared the worst. He scrambled off the chair and ran toward the adults.

"Is she alright?" he practically yelled, as tears filled his eyes.

Graham looked down at Henry, but was too busy helping Dr. Whale situate Snow to answer him. Using his shoulder, he bumped Emma's and nodded toward Henry. She sighed, before looking down at him. The tears in his eyes broke her heart. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and walked him away from Snow and Graham.

Sitting down beside him in the waiting area, she glanced over toward him. "She'll be okay, Henry."

He turned toward her. Emma practically shrank backward at the amount of sadness and fear in the young boy's eyes. It suddenly hit her just how much that he had been through in less than a year. Her mouth bobbed open and close a couple of times as tears pressed against her own eyes. The amount of pain she felt in her heart caused an unfamiliar ache in the back of her throat. This child that she didn't know was her child, and just because she didn't remember him didn't make him any less hers. She had been neglecting him, and it took one look at the intense pain on his face for her to realize how much she longed to take his pain away.

"I swear. She will be fine."

She watched him swallow thickly, before turning his scared eyes back onto her. "She has to. Who will take care of me, if she's not?"

Emma swallowed as she just stared at him. "I will. I am sorry for how I've been acting."

Henry shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. I get it. You don't know me-"

Emma placed her hand on Henry's shoulder and waited for him to look at her again. "I may not know you—not in the normal sense anyway—but I feel a connection to you, Henry."

He nodded. "Good." He offered her a sad smile. "So—what happened?" he asked, his legs swinging back and forth while he waited for her answer.

She smiled sadly. "Snow was following me, and she tripped. She hurt her ankle."

"Oh," Henry offered. "So, she'll really be okay?"

Emma smiled softly. "Yeah. She will."

"But, will you still take care of me? I mean, I love Grandma Snow, but I miss my mom." Henry hung his head; he couldn't look at her. He didn't' want to see her rejecting him. Hearing it would be bad enough.

A sigh sounded beside him, but he forced his head to stay down. "I will try, Henry. Can you do something for me?" He looked up, a little wearily, before nodding. "Will you be patient with me? I want to try to be better at dealing with all of this, but I need time."

"I can do that," he said, before yawning loudly. Removing his jacket, he balled it up and curled up as well as he could on the chair. His eyes drooped close fairly quickly, and Emma pondered picking him up and letting him sleep on her. It would be more comfortable than his current position, but as quickly as the though entered her mind, Graham reappeared. He leaned over Henry, and hefted the boy into his arms before sitting down, letting him curl up against him.

"Dr. Whale said that her ankle is broken and that it's fairly unstable. He needs to do surgery to put in a plate and some screws. He's on his way over to get approval. With your father sedated, he's going to need you to sign for approval."

Emma sighed, "Yeah. I can do that. I mean, she's hurt because of me."

Graham placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Emma. You are entitled to be scared."

Her head hung. "But am I entitled to hurt people that love me?" she asked. Her eyes squeezed tightly against the tears. She fought them off, unwilling to break down in such a public place. "I have to get my memory back, Graham. It's not fair. Not to me and not to them."

James blinked his eyes open as he looked around his room. His vision was still a little blurry, but he saw a mess of blonde hair out of the corner of his left eye. He sighed, realizing that his little girl was okay. When she had run from his room earlier he had started to panic. His heart felt like it was clenching tightly in his chest, and his breathing had nearly ceased. James had remembered Graham trying to get him to focus. The poor man had tried to explain something to him, but all James could think was that there was something wrong with Emma. There had to be something wrong with her, because Emma wouldn't run away from him. At least, he didn't think she would. Not after all the work he and Snow had put in to break down those damn towering walls.

"Good. You woke up. I was kind of afraid. You've been asleep for a while."

James craned his head, and pinched his eyes closed against the rolling dizziness. "How are you?" he heard her laugh without mirth, causing him to peer at her through one open eye. "What's so funny?"

She leaned forward, her arms crossed over her chest. A defensive stance, one that James knew all too well. "You're the one that's been in a coma, and you want to know if I'm alright?"

His eyes shot open, as he sat up. The heart monitor beside his bed started to beep frantically. He stared at Emma trying to see if she had aged dramatically. "How—long?" he gasped out, realizing that his breaths were coming in wheezing puffs.

"Seriously. Calm down or that damn, annoying doctor will kick me out," Emma said, standing up and shoving him back against the bed.

He reached up a hand and clasped hers. James felt as his breathing became easier, and his heart stopped hammering in his chest. There were so many questions lingering that needed answering, but first he needed to know how long he had been in a coma. "How long?" His question was a little more forceful this time.

Emma scratched at her chin with her free hand. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Graham had told her to be gentle with dealing with James when he woke up. That too much stress could make him relapse back into a coma. She hadn't believed him, it didn't sound right, but that annoyingly, nice doctor had confirmed what Graham had said. If only she could just remember exactly how long Snow had said he had been in his coma. Granted, if this question had her stumped, then she was inherently screwed if he asked anything more in-depth. 'Screw it' Emma thought, before looking back down at James.

"I'm not really sure. I think Snow said five months?"

James' mouth stood agape, as he stared at his daughter. Five months? He clenched his free hand into a fist to hide the fact that it was shaking. How could he miss five months of his family's life. His chest clenched uncomfortably, as his throat grew tight. How could he let them all down like that? He forced a sigh through his tightly, pursed lips. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he pushed that information to the back of his mind for now, before turning his attention back to Emma. The weary look on her face, made his face scrunch in concentration. Something was definitely different about her. There was something she wasn't telling him, it was written on all over her face. Squeezing her hand, he forced her attention back on him. "What's wrong, Emma? Something's different."

Emma sighed, as she sat back down in her chair. Her hand was still in James', the thought to remove it hadn't even entered her mind. "I have amnesia," Emma said in a matter-of-fact type of way.

That information hit him like a ton of bricks. If she said anything else, it was lost on him. Everything felt far away as his mind drifted. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and that thought caused his heart to clench painfully. He felt like he could just scream. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Emma was supposed to break the curse, and they were supposed to get their happy endings back. This—Emma with no memory—was not a happy ending. It was a tragic ending. He felt his eyes start to water, and he clenched them closed to keep the tears at bay. Emma didn't need him crying for her. If anything, that would only make her retreat away from him. "Emma, honey." James' voice cracked, as a tear slipped past his barrier. He cursed himself for being so weak, when Emma needed him.

Emma felt her heart constrict when she realized that her father was blaming himself. "It's not your fault—I don't think. Not from what Snow and Graham have told me. If anything, what happened to you was my fault. I should be the one begging you for forgiveness, and not just for the coma thing." Emma's head fell into her hands. She could feel the hot tears press against her closed eyelids, and she swallowed back the increasing amount of fear and panic. She was so sick of feeling so weak—always crying—always complaining. She had meant what she had said to Henry. She wanted to try harder and be there. Emma was so sick of her life being a complete mess, even if she had no idea how to fix it, she was going to try like hell to get back the person she used to be. At the very least, try to become someone that could stop hurting her family. First on that agenda was to figure out how to rebuild relationships with people she didn't remember. "I am so sorry." She peered at James through glassy eyes. "I have been so—awful. To Snow and Henry—and I don't even know why!" She held her head high, fighting back the overwhelming heartbreak that was tearing her apart on the inside. The only thing that gave her away, was the quiver of her jaw.

James saw through her tough exterior. He could see the fear in her eyes, the pain etched on her face, and he definitely didn't miss the quivering of her jaw. Emma was so close to breaking down, and James knew that it would probably be good for her to give into those emotions. He just didn't know how to lead her having an emotional breakthrough. That definitely seemed like something that Snow would be better at. Some part of his brain was picking up on the fact that his wife was missing from his room, and he knew that he needed to ask about that. Yet, right now it was about Emma. Reaching over, he gripped her hand again, squeezing it gently. "Emma. I know you don't remember this, but I, at one time, didn't know who I was. I was so lost and afraid. More that I would never remember who I was, than of what had caused me to forget. I know what you're going through—I know what you're feeling." Emma slipped her hand from his, and eyed him carefully. He sighed. Of course he had over stepped some boundary. Emma might not remember who she was, but that didn't mean that her walls had disappeared. If anything, she had rebuilt them, higher and stronger than before. "I just—I wanted you to know that I am here for you-" God, he needed Snow right now. A subject change, that was what he needed, since his current path wasn't yielding any results. "Where is Snow?"

Emma swallowed thickly, as she turned her head. She stared directly at the heart monitor that was hooked up to James. She watched as the line jumped with each beat of his heart. It was entirely soothing to watch the line move in rhythm with James' heart beat. Staring at it, and refusing to meet his eyes, she spoke. "Surgery. It's all my fault. She followed me. I wish she hadn't—I'm only good at hurting people, that much I have been able to gather. Look at you—and Snow." She sighed.

James reached his hand out, and groaned when it was just short of reaching Emma's chin. He needed her to look at him. He needed information. His heart started to beat a little erractally, as images flashed through his mind. Snow was in surgery, but what was wrong. Was it serious? He had to know, the not knowing was causing his chest to hurt—or maybe it was his gasping for a breath. Why couldn't he breathe.

"Seriously. You have to calm down." Emma finally spoke. She pushed down on him again.

James hadn't even realized that he had moved. He hadn't felt himself sit up, and most definitely hadn't felt himself attempting to remove the central line connected to his wrist. He felt Emma's hand slip into his, like it had done earlier. Slowly, his breathing slowed, and his heartbeat started to retreat into something more suitable for a man that had just woken from a coma. When he trusted his voice again, he spoke. "Surgery?"

Suddenly Emma realized her mistake. This was his wife she had been talking about, and she had been as vague as a person could be. She blew out a breath through her nose, before looking back at James. "It's okay. Dr. Whale promised that she would be fine. It's just-" Emma sighed, she was getting frustrated with herself and her inability to complete her thoughts. "She fell and broke her ankle—when she was chasing after me."

James nodded. It was just a broken ankle—but it was still surgery. "How long has she been in surgery?"

Emma's eyebrows shot up. That had not been the question she was expecting. Her eyes probed the room while she looked for a clock. Finally landing on one, she did the mental calculations. She could feel a headache starting to form at her temples, and she fought the urge to rub them. James did not need another reason to freak out. He had already done that far too many times today. It couldn't be healthy. Clearing her throat, she looked back at James. "I think, around an hour and a half or so."

James nodded. "You saw her? Before she went into surgery?"

Emma stared at him. Always with the weird questions. Nodding her head, she figured it would be best to leave out the whole she was unconscious part of the story. No need to send him down the road of another panic attack. "Yeah, I did. We were stuck out in the forest for a little bit until Graham found us."

James just stared at her for a minute. Taking in all the information. Snow had followed Emma when she had taken off earlier. She had fallen—which didn't sound right. Snow was more than equipped to handle the forest. Hell, she had practically lived in the forest for year before James had made an honest woman out of her. Then again, she was probably upset because Emma was upset. Probably not paying as much of her attention to possible tree roots as she should have. Tripped—Emma said she was with Snow—she must have went back and stayed with her. Graham. James would have to thank him—if it hadn't been for him—he sighed, realizing that he had been quiet for longer than he had intended to. "How did she seem?" he watched as Emma's eyebrows furrowed. She had that confused look on her face. The same one that Snow got when she didn't understand something—or someone. "It's just—Snow doesn't like the attention being on her. She definitely doesn't like admitting to pain-"

An ah ha look came over Emma's face, before she smiled sadly. "Yeah, I figured that out when I practically had to drag the information out of her. She was in quite a bit of pain, but Dr. Whale said that it should heal once a plate and screws are put in to help hold it together."

James' face scrunched up. "Screws? A plate?" He didn't like the way that sounded.

Emma sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "Her ankle is unstable. The plate and screws will help stabilize it while it heals."

James shook his head. "So, they'll be taken out when it's healed?"

Emma stared blankly for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean—why would they put her through surgery, only to turn around and do it all over again in a few months?"

James nodded. That made sense. He didn't like it, and he really wished that there was something he could do to change it. To fix it. He definitely didn't want to be stuck in this damn bed, not when his family needed him so badly. His hands made another move for the sensors connected to his chest.

"Stop that!" Emma said, her voice holding a certain amount of chasite to it, as she swatted at James' hands.

He stared at her for a moment, before he burst out in laughter.

"What is so funny!?" Emma huffed.

"You are definitely your mother's daughter." James spoke between laughs. "You sounded just like her."

Even though he was laughing, Emma could tell from the way he spoke that it wasn't at her. There was a certain bit of relief in his voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her eyebrow furrowed. There wasn't any malice or anger in her voice, she was generally curious what he meant.

James sobered up quickly, before grabbing hold of Emma's hand. He squeezed it affectionately when she attempted to pull it away again. "It means that my daughter is still in there. It means I am going to fight like hell to bring her back. You're going to get your memory back, Emma, and I will be there every single step of the way."

Emma's eyes glistened, and she swiped angerily at them. Crying wouldn't help anything. She was fairly certain if she never cried again, it would be too soon. She offered James a smile, before removing her hand from his grasp. "So—what's next?"

"I'd like to see my grandson." James answered, smiling back at her.

"Well, he was asleep on Graham the last time I was in the waiting room, but I can go get him, if you want?"

James smiled. "I would like that."

Henry edged his way toward James' room, his fist wiped at the sleep still clouding his vision. He entered the room, and found his grandfather beaming at him. Sighing in relief, Henry took off running. He eyed the chair, but look at James for a moment waiting for his permission before climbing onto the bed. Leaning over, Henry threw his arms around James as carefully as he could.

"I'm so glad you woke up, Grandpa." Henry smiled at how ridiculous it sounded. The man before him was far too young to be a grandfather, and yet he was.

"I'm glad too, Henry." James smiled. He could feel his grandson's apprehension in letting go. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Henry shook his head against James' chest. "It's not your promise to make."

James' heart constricted painfully, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Henry's body. He was only a ten-year-old boy, and he had already seen his fair share of heart break. Images flashed before James' eyes: images from the night that he had apparently slipped into a coma, images from the night that he was certain that he would lose his daughter. James held Henry tighter, as his grandson's body shook and jerked with the sobs that overtook his small body.

"I'm so sorry, Henry," James forced out after his sobs had ebbed. "This is not the life that Emma wanted for you, that much I do know. She never wanted you to feel so much pain." Henry hiccuped loudly as his sobs ceased. "I wish I could take away all of the pain you've gone through."

Henry pulled back. "It's okay, Grandpa. I know it'll only hurt for a little while longer. Mom—she'll get her memory back," he sniffed as more tears threatened to fall. "She told me that she never meant to hurt me. I believe her. I don't think it's her intention to pull away. It's just-" he sighed. "It's like she's the same Emma from before. The one I brought to Storybrooke."

James nodded. "Well, now you have me. You have your grandmother and Graham. Even if she doesn't know it, Emma does love you," James sighed. He hated asking his grandson what he was about to ask, but it was unavoidable. "We just need you to be strong a little while longer, Henry. Do you think you can do that?"

Henry sat back fully. He took in his grandfather, while his index finger tapped his chin. Slowly a sly grin lifted the corners of Henry's mouth. "On one condition." He held up his index finger to indicate the number one.

"What's that?" James' eyebrow cocked, as he raised his chin about an inch.

"You teach me how to sword fight. When you're better, of course." Henry smiled, brightly. "I am the grandson of a prince after all."

James laughed, heartily. "That is true, Henry. I suppose I can't argue with that logic."

Henry beamed at James, before engulfing James in another hug. "I love you, grandpa!"

James reciprocated the hug. "I love you too, Henry."