Emma smoothed a few loose wisps of hair back, tucking them behind her ears, and sighed.
"No, Henry, you can not ride around with me in the squad car. I'm working."
The boy stared at her stubbornly with an expression that seemed all too familiar and she sighed. "And I had better not find you popping up in the back seat again. It was one thing when I was driving my own car on my own time. Now that I'm a Deputy Sheriff, it's different. It could be dangerous."
"Nothing ever happens in Storybrooke," Henry complained. "And I'll be with you and you'll keep me safe."
"I can't be certain of that and anyway it's not even on the list of possibilities."
He opened his mouth to argue and she shook her head, causing more hair to fall loose from the precarious knot she'd tied her long, golden hair into during the hectic, if dull afternoon filing cases in the Sheriff's office.
"Non-negotiable," she told him.
He gave a heaving sigh and peered up at her pathetically beneath his fringe of dark hair. That wasn't going to work either, really it wasn't. Damn the kid. This time he wasn't wrapping her around his little finger.
"Look, I'm off work tomorrow and we can do something then, OK? See if we can figure out who some more of these people really are," she offered, mentally wincing. She hated playing into his fantasy world, but she just couldn't let him try sneaking into the police car like he had her little yellow Bug. Hopefully, this would distract him.
He eyed her with a mixture of frustration and hope.
"Really?" he asked. She had to take a deep breath to keep her heart from breaking at the pleading expression in his eyes.
"Really," she promised.
"OK," he pronounced. "I want to figure out who Mr. Gold is for starters. I'll read my notes again tonight. He's important, I know he is."
Her mind instantly circled back to the elegant businessman. She hadn't quite been able to get the man off her mind since the morning's conversation over coffee. He was too compelling, too enigmatic, despite the short life history he'd given her. She wasn't certain she believed a word of it. But that he was important – yes, that she absolutely believed. The man wore power like a cloak.
"Merlin," Emma mused, not realizing she said it aloud.
"Like King Arthur's Merlin?" Henry interrupted her thoughts.
She looked at him in surprise and then shrugged. "It certainly suits him."
"Nah, can't be," Henry stated. "Camelot's not related to the Enchanted Forest at all. It's not in the book."
She laughed softly, trying to keep her voice soft and non-judgmental. "I doubt everyone in this town is part of those fairy-tales. There have to be some regular people here. Maybe Mr. Gold is one of those."
"I already told you why and you just said he makes you think of Merlin and Merlin's not a regular person. He's magical. So's Mr. Gold; just in a different way." Henry insisted.
As crazy as the whole conversation was, she couldn't escape a sudden stab of pride. He was a very smart kid and his logic – if you accepted the fantastical premise, of course – was impeccable.
"I didn't mean he really is Merlin," she said, smiling softly at him and barely resisting the impulse to ruffle his hair. "It might be a good code name for him, though, don't you think?"
Henry pursed his mouth, deep in thought. "Yeah, I guess. But I want to know who he really is."
Pieces of conversation rang back through her mind from the morning and she almost told Henry about the 'three-guesses' mutual joke regarding Gold's childhood name. However, the sun was setting, she had to get on patrol, and she didn't want Henry going off on a tangent. Besides, there was something personal about that conversation: something private that she didn't want to share even with her new-found son. So she settled for another honest truth.
"So do I, Henry" she answered. "Oh, so do I."