Disclaimer: I own nothing.

––

"Mom?" Henry walked down the stairs to her vault, not hearing his mom or even seeing her. He called Emma to see if she was at the house or at her office, and Emma said she left the house a while after he and Serah left. Grandma checked the office, but she wasn't there either. He knew she had to be here. The last time she hid, she came out for him after he yelled through the front door. He wasn't giving up. He would find her. He would help her through this. That's what family did for each other. Why did she always think she has to do everything alone? "Mom!"

Still nothing, so he began his search. He spotted a spellbook open, but that could have been done at any time. He continued, but found no evidence that his mom had been there. He remembered there was a hidden room. It was behind a mirror. She had to be there, and she had to be ignoring him. No more. He wouldn't be ignored. She would have to hear him, and he would keep pestering her until she gave up. He located the mirror and saw the door was ajar. He opened it and found his mom inside, the room a mess with books lying haphazardly about everywhere, and he frowned. "Mom?"

"I'm busy right now, Henry. I'm sorry, but I can't talk." She tossed the book she was reading aside and moved to the next one. She tapped her fingernails across the page and bit her bottom lip, trying to recall why that story Serah told was so familiar. The more she played it in her mind, the more she remembered it, pictured it in her mind. It was driving her crazy. She should be able to remember why and where she knew this story. It was the tip of her tongue. For the past hour, it had been on the tip of her tongue. Damn it!

"Mom?" He slowly crossed over to her. "Maybe you should stop."

"I can't. I've almost found the answer. I only need a bit more time."

"I'll help."

She paused and peered over her shoulder at him, lowering the book to her lap. "I thought you were with Serah."

"I was, but I wanted to check on you. I was worried."

Her expression softened, and she was on her feet. "Henry, don't worry about me. I am fine."

"Don't lie to me. How can you be fine? You just found out you and Robin have a daughter in the future, and that future is seriously in danger. Nobody could be fine after getting news like that." He searched her eyes. "Talk to me."

"Henry, there's nothing to talk about," she tried to brush it away. "I understand that I have a future with Robin and a daughter with him, but right now, I have a son and a future that needs to be protected." She set her hand on his cheek. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Me and all of us, including Serah."

She simply nodded. "I have a lot of work to do." She lowered her hand to his shoulder. "Why don't you head home and keep an eye on Serah? I don't want her getting hurt or worse. I need to speak with her again and soon."

"You don't believe her, do you?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not? Mom, you look just alike and you talk alike! You don't even know how similar you two are!" He shook his head. "If you just spend five minutes with her, you'd see it."

"Right now my only concern is making sure she's telling the truth, and that we can handle whatever brings this darkness."

He pursed his lips. "Why don't I bring Serah here?" Regina was already shaking her head. "She can help. She knows what it is, what it looks like and the name too probably. She'd be the best one of us to help you!"

"Henry."

"Mom, she's not going to mess anything up. She probably knows this vault as well as you. It's perfect! She can help you, and Mom and I can look for more clues on the writer! It's—"

"Henry, no!" Her tone left no room for arguing, and her eyes were vacant, frigid almost. "I don't need help, and I don't think looking for the writer is important right now."

"What? Of course it's important. It's your future, Mom."

"And look how wonderful that is." She gripped the book she held. "Henry, just go home and stay with Serah. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Fine."

She watched him depart and frowned to herself. She didn't mean for her words to come out as austere and terse as they had. It wasn't his fault. It was the writer's fault. She wasn't in the mood to seek out that asshole and politely ask him to do anything for her. He gave her a happy ending, only throw darkness and fire at it. What was the point if it was going to end like that? Henry would be at risk. He might not even survive. If he had lived, Regina knew she would have sent him back in time. Having Serah in Serah's time would have been an asset. She could use magic, heal and cloak them. Henry would have been older and more recognizable than a child Regina had never seen before in her life. For Regina to have sent Serah here, Henry would have had to have been killed. She would never let that happen, not ever. She was going to change their future and ensure Henry would be safe. They all would be safe. He would understand when he had children of his own, but for now, she would have to be the bad guy. She played that part well.

– – –

David gently set Serah down on Regina's bed then he moistened a washcloth from the bathroom and wiped the blood from her brow. He removed her shoes and covered her with the duvet, turning off the lights to let her rest. He padded down the stairs and pulled out his phone to let them know that she was safe and sound, and that he was going into the woods with Emma and Hook to find whatever had tried to murder her and Henry.

He vacated the house a few minutes later, and ten minutes after, Henry returned home. He tossed his coat on to the couch and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He spotted Serah's bag on the table in the hall perfectly in between the doorway to the living and the stairs. He stepped out of the kitchen and picked up the bag. He dropped down on the stairs and hesitated. He didn't want to go through her things without her permission, but he had to know more about her. If he could learn more, he just might be able to get through to his—their mom. He bit his lip and thought hard for a moment, the worn leather bag heavy in is lap. Sometimes, he decided after a moment, one just has to snoop.

He buttoned the bag and opened it, seeing story books inside. He grabbed one and flipped through it, seeing blank pages. He frowned and set a hand on a smooth pearly white page, and he wondered why it was blank. He really wanted to know why she had them with her. Of all things to grab for a trip through time, she chose this. Well, perhaps it wasn't her choice. Mom might have made her take them. No, Belle. Belle would definitely make sure these books survived. Her reality couldn't even guard these books or her.

"They smell like ash and blood."

He jumped and found Serah standing behind him. "W—what?"

She lowered herself down beside him. "These are the very last story books to have ever been bound." She took it from him and closed it, sliding her hand over the smooth leather. "Belle made me take them." She smiled sadly.

"Belle and you were close?"

"We are very close." She nodded, eyes full of big tears. "Belle taught me so many things. She read me to sleep, taught me how to calm my temper and how to look like a lady while still being able to speak wisdom and get respect."

"Mom didn't teach you anything?"

She wiped at the tears that fell and held her hand out; he gave her the bag back, and she pulled out a faded picture. She used her magic to clear it up, revealing the true image. "Mom was there for me since the day I was born, but she had a lot of responsibilities." She shrugged a shoulder. "Belle and Emma practically raised me, because Mom was always so preoccupied."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Whenever she was around, it was great." She beamed cheerfully. "It was like Christmas, but better. I never knew when she would have time for me, so when she came around...it was amazing, the best part of my day. She made our time together special. Somehow, despite rarely seeing each other, Mom and I were always close."

"How often did you see her?"

"Well, we trained almost every day, but she wasn't my mother then. She was my mentor." She picked at her thumbnail. "Mom couldn't be lenient with me, not with the world I was growing up in getting more lethal every second, so when we trained together...it was for hours with hardly any breaks. She couldn't allow me to rest or tend to a burn from her fireball or mine that...backfired on me. She couldn't, even though I knew all she wanted to do was wrap me in her arms and heal my burns and my cuts. She had to detach herself for my own good, and at first it...upset me. I used to cry and throw a fit, demand that she look at me, at my wounds, but she never did. She just said, "Again". And when I turned eight, I threw another fit, but that time...I saw it."

"Saw what?"

Her eyes painted the scene, and she gripped the book in her lap. "Agony. She wanted to do all the things I screamed a mother should do when her child is hurt. She wanted to do all of them, to support gently, to ease me through the levels of magic, to take her time with me, to allow my magic to flourish on its own, but our family and the world couldn't afford her to. That was my last tantrum. I understood after that." Serah chewed on her bottom lip. "Uh, she taught me everything I needed and wanted to know about magic. I'd be a novice without her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her smile softened. "And you taught me everything I needed and wanted to know about swords. You're a real...badass in my time."

His brows rose. "Really?"

"Really."

He nodded to himself. "Do I have a beard?"

"What?" She laughed.

"Do I? 'Cause that would be awesome."

She tilted her head back and pressed her lips together. "That might be too much information."

"Oh, c'mon! It's not!"

She laughed. "Yeah, you have a beard. It's not bushy, but not a stubble. You also have—nice teeth." She mentally kicked herself. She couldn't tell him about that. If she mentioned that... It would be best to avoid any and all conversations involving battle scars. She didn't want to mention the battles anyway. They still haunted her, every time she closed her eyes.

"Good know I kept up my dental hygiene."

"Well, it is very important." She pulled her legs in and rested her hands on the book. "It's so strange to talk about myself."

"Why?"

"Because I don't exist. Not really." She moistened her lips. "The person I am today won't exist in ten years from now." He started to frown. "Don't. That—even though as it doesn't sound like it—is a very good thing." She offered him a reassuring smile then stifled an impulse to rest her head on his shoulder. This was and wasn't her big brother. It would be very awkward. They'd only just met.

"Are we close?" he spoke after a muted minute swept through.

"Extremely."

"Good. I'm gonna make sure we stay close."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

They had yet another moment of silence, Henry could sense how much she wanted to help them, and he knew in his heart that she was without a shadow of a doubt one of the good guys. He would help her as best he could. She was risking so much for them, and it was only fair they risk for her as well. Their family was known for making risky decisions anyway. What was one more?

"Are you hungry?" Henry peered at her.

"Are we actually going to eat?" She replaced the items in her bag.

"Yeah."

"Good, because I'm starving."

"Let's go to Granny's. I'll call Mom and have her meet us there."

"Emma or...?"

He thought for a minute. "I'll call Grandma." He rose off the steps.

"I'm going to go wash up, but I'll be down really quick." She climbed the stairs and located the bathroom. She took one look at herself and groaned. She had grass stains all over the shirt Emma had given her, and her jeans were torn. Belle was wrong; they were too threadbare to be worn. She set her bag on the counter and unbuttoned the shirt and began to ball it up but caught a glimpse of herself. "Shit!" She had forgotten about that! Well, not forgotten but was used to them seeing it, but they weren't them. Shit. If Henry saw this scar, he'd ask questions, and he couldn't ask questions.

She slipped back into the shirt and grabbed her bag off the sink. She checked the hall, hearing Henry still speaking with Mary Margaret and she sped to her mother's room, setting her bag down on the bed and stepping into her closet. She sifted through the many blouses in many hues and materials, and she was astonished. She could remember a time when her mom would get dressed up for dinners, but that felt like so long ago. She had all these nice clothes. They were beautiful, much nicer than the clothes they wore now, but they made due. They had to save their magic for fighting, and when they weren't fighting, they were resting or on watch. Clothes are important, but survival was their top priority. Sometimes they had some of the kids make clothes, but mostly they were training. If they couldn't fight they would just die. Anna and Emma and Henry worked to the bone to ensure that didn't happen. Henry taught swords—he was the very best at it—Anna worked more with defensive and boasting morale, and Emma helped those with magical talent. Mom was always too busy scouting and hunting to train the others, but luckily Elsa and Mal helped too. Elsa taught control while Mal taught curses. Mal was...evil, and Aurora wanted her banished, but the enemy of my enemy was my friend. They made it work, at least.

Serah swallowed. She missed them so much. They were here, but they weren't here. It wasn't the same. She wouldn't see them ever again. And if she did, they wouldn't know her like they did, and she wouldn't know them like she did. It wouldn't even be a dream. Her reality would turn to smoke and ash and blow away on the breeze. That was the goal, but losing the relationships, losing the lessons and losing the love they had would be was unfathomable. Her fingers wrapped around the swan that dangled from her neck. She would remember it all until her last breath.

"Serah?" Henry called up the stairs.

"One minute!" She removed a random red blouse from a hanger and slipped into it, running out of the room and snatching her bag. She met him by the door. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Grandma and Neal are gonna meet us at the diner."

"Awesome."

They headed out to Granny's on foot, talking about nothing in particular really. It was small talk, but it was nice. It took her mind off of what her family was doing at that exact moment. It was equally rather interesting to see pre-war Henry. He wasn't otherwise engaged with training or watch, and he didn't constantly have his guard raised. He was fun and light, and a surge of happiness coursed through knowing that this was the Henry that would be her older brother. She loved Henry, and she understood exactly why he was how he was in her time, but he never lightened up, not even on good days. But after all he lost...

Entering the diner, Serah was more than stunned to see everybody there. David, Killian, Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle and even Mom. She looked at Henry, who gave her an apologetic wince, and she gave him a small shake of her head. It was all right. She was okay they were here. They needed to talk anyway. This just made it much easier. The sooner the better, right?

"We're not here to ambush you," Emma began, gesturing to the people around her. "We just want to talk."

"And eat," Henry chimed.

"Well, I can do both quite well." Serah gripped the strap to her bag. "Where do you want to start?"

"With how you got here," David answered. "The spell that sent you back in time."

"Didn't Zelena do the same thing?" She folded her arms. "You know how I did it, with what ingredients and where I wanted to be. And there's not much else to tell. Next question, please." She held up a finger. "Before this long and mostly likely taxing interrogation begins, could I please get something to drink? And some food, please?" She removed her bag. That peanut better and apple jelly sandwich had long since digested.

"Could I see that?" Regina held her hand out, indicating to the bag that hung off Serah's shoulder.

"Yes, but we both know you've already gone through it." She handed it over.

"Oh, and how do we know that?"

"Because you're my mom, and I would do it too. Strange newcomer in town, claims to be related to me directly, of course I'm going to go through her bag after knocking her out with a sleeping spell. All I ask is that you don't take anything. Those items mean a lot to me, and I can't bear to lose any more—of them." She quickly slid into the booth and rested her hands in her lap. She really needed to stop explaining why things meant so much to her.

Belle sat across from her and offered her a smile. "I have a request."

"And that request is?"

"Tomorrow, I'd like to see you, preferably at the...pawn shop down the street."

"Of course. What time?"

"In the morning."

"I'll be there. I'll try to be there at six or seven."

"Oh, you don't have to come that early. Ten or eleven is fine with me."

"Ten then."

Henry joined them with food, Emma and Belle exchanged places and David took the seat beside her, and they began to ask questions about her time. She wanted to answer, but she couldn't. Just before she cast out of her time, Emma put a spell on the key chain that was against her skin under the blouse. It wasn't that effective, but it stopped her from answering the questions they were asking. It dried her throat out, making her cough or chug any drink, provide a distraction from the question. It was a warning not to give away too much information, and she tried to think of a way around it, but she couldn't. She could see the disappointment in their eyes, but what more could she do? What happened to them was so deeply intertwined with their choices and knowledge. She couldn't tell them. If they tried to avoid it, they might make it worse. They needed to defeat this evil before it came into power. If only she knew what the hell that was. Of all people to send, they sent the one who can barely remember when this happened. Her entire world was darkness, blood, fire, terrified screams of young ones and the fallen, ashen bodies, and very few moments of light and family. She clung to the good times in the present and the past, all of the good and even the bad was gone. She didn't remember her childhood. It was a blank, and all she knew was that everlasting darkness and scent of fresh blood and the wails of someone dying or being abducted. This reality was jarringly brutal to her. It was the beautiful here, and all she wanted was the dangerous chaos of the after. At least she knew what to do, how to act, where to be. She was a fighter and a healer who protected the young and the old. She wasn't often on the front line, but she went there if she was needed. She was the strongest magic user of her class there. But here? She didn't know what the hell she was here.

Well, aside from unwanted.

– – –

A few minutes before the sunrise, Serah made her way silently outside to the backyard. It was lovely, green and alive. She was used to seeing many graves and black smoke. This was a refreshing change. She did a few of the training techniques and relaxed her entire body as per usual. She mediated in the yard, connecting with everything underneath and around her. She knew she was being watched. After last night, Mom kept her eyes on every movement she made. Some things never change. Mom watched her like a hawk in her time too.

Mom had offered to let her stay at her house. Nobody complained, though Serah knew it was so that she could keep her away from everyone, keep her locked in her room all night with magic. She didn't mind. That was how she slept before, and it was oddly consoling. It didn't ease the nightmares, but nothing ever did. She let out her breath slowly, opening her eyes to find a brown paper bag dangling in front of her. She looked up and discovered the hand that held the bag belonged to Emma.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

"What's this?" She climbed to her feet and accepted the bag.

"A bagel from Granny's. I figured you'd be hungry. Regina's not a breakfast person, and I'm your ride to Belle's, so I figured I'd grab you something. It's blueberry. I hope you don't mind." Regina was all about the apples, maybe Serah was too? They didn't have apple bagels. Well, apple cinnamon, but it was too late for that.

"No, it's fine. I love fruit when we could grow it." It smelled delicious, and the bag was warm. She couldn't wait to eat it. "Wait, you're my ride? Is it that late already?"

"No, I'm just early."

"Well, umm, then I should change and eat this. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They stepped inside, Serah excused herself to get cleaned up, and Regina entered the kitchen, glancing at Serah she walked by. Emma drank from her to-go mug and shook her head at Regina, and Regina ignored it.

"When are you going to lighten up?"

"When she stops acting like this guessing game is cute and appropriate."

"She's just a kid." Emma swiped a drop of coffee off the lid of her cup. "She's trying to help, but she doesn't know how."

"Sure."

"What would you do? If you were her, what would you do?"

"Something! I sure as hell wouldn't sit around and tell people useless information! If she wanted to help, she would just tell us and stop being so ridiculously childish!"

"That's a little difficult to do, considering she is a child!"

"That's no excuse. At her age, I knew—"

"She's not you!" Emma interrupted. "She's your kid, but she's not you! And maybe she does want to tell us, but she's choosing to wait and tell you! You're her mother, and she adores you, but you're just pushing her away!" She scoffed, but Emma continued. "I bet you're the one she wants to open up to, but will you let her? No, you won't. I'm going to try, so is Belle and Dad and Mom. Just put yourself in her shoes for a minute and see why she doesn't feel like opening up to people she's loved and lost."

"If she opened up, she wouldn't have to lose them," Regina spat.

"Maybe they'll just lose her instead." Emma grabbed her cup. "Whether or not you believe she's your kid, you need to stop treating her like she's the reason everything went to hell."

"How do we know that she's not? She might have come back to accelerate the process, make it so that there is no way to prevent things from going to hell!"

"I don't know her all that well, but I do know she hasn't lied about anything important. She hasn't used any magic other than to repair a cup of yours she broke and to heal her sprained ankle. She hasn't tried to hurt us or brainwash us. All she's done is struggle with herself and try to answer our questions as best she can. That's what she's done while you've been eyeing her and waiting for her to destroy us all."

"I don't trust her."

"No shit."