When Emma opened her eyes, her concussed gaze fell unsteadily on her mother's form through the bars separating their two cells. Snow sat with her back against the earthen wall of her cell, her head slumped forward. Emma couldn't tell if she was dosing or crying. Her arm was extended through the bars, although it fell just short of Emma. She blinked, but that only amplified the pain searing inside her skull. A muffled groan escaped her lips, causing her mother to stir suddenly beside her.

"Emma!" Snow cooed, shifting onto her knees and pulling still closer to her daughter, reaching out for her. "Are you ok?"

"If by ok do you mean, do you have a searing headache from being whacked in the face by your son's adoptive mother, then yes, I'm ok," she joked, although a frown lingered on her face even as she jested.

Snow was concerned by the faintness of her daughter's voice as Emma propped herself up and slid herself gently towards her mother. It seemed to take her a great amount of effort just to shift herself slightly. Snow began to survey Emma's body for any other injuries.

"You lied to me," Emma accused in a quiet voice. Snow looked up from her examination of her body and into her daughter's eyes.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You told me you'd never leave me again," Emma breathed, the effort of holding herself up and speaking through her concussion apparent in the strain in her voice. "That you'd always be there. But then I came in your room and you were gone. Just gone."

Snow pressed her lips together and blinked back a few tears.

"I was just trying to protect you," she sniffed. "To protect everyone."

"Yes, well, well done there," Emma muttered sarcastically, shifting her weight so that she could rest her aching head against the earth wall behind her. She closed her weary eyes took a few stabilizing, shallow breaths. Then she began searching her cell, gauging the situation. "Now, how are we going to get out of here?"

"Emma, she has my heart," Snow reminded her daughter.

"So first step is to get out of these cells," Emma said distractedly, scanning them with her eyes. "And second is to find it."

"No, you don't understand," Snow pushed. "She has control over me. She can make me do whatever she wants me to. She's going to make me kill you. You can't be around me, you can't trust anything I say to you, you need to get away from me as quickly as possible."

"If I can't trust anything you say, then why should I trust you when you tell me I need to get away from you," Emma reasoned good-humoredly.

"Emma, this isn't a game…" Snow started, but Emma turned to look her squarely in the face.

"Do you remember what you said to me at the bottom of that beanstalk?" Emma asked her.

"Emma…" Snow attempted to argue, but Emma persisted.

"You said, 'We go home together. That is the only way.'"

"This is different!" Snow hissed, but Emma grabbed her hands through the bars separating them and forced her to look into her eyes.

"That is the only way," she repeated. Snow sighed at the stubbornness she saw behind her daughter's eyes. Eyes that look so much like her father's. Emma held her mother's gaze until Snow acquiesced to nod.

"Right then," Emma said, blinking and summoning energy enough to stand. "Now, let's get these doors open, shall we?"

"But how?" Snow asked, rising with her daughter and supporting her by the arm as Emma swayed in her weakened state. She cast her a sideways glance. "Magic?"

Emma shook her head, but then stopped abruptly as it exploded in a fierce pain. She brought her hand to her skull until it subsided.

"No," she breathed. "I've had enough of magic for one day. I prefer to do things the old fashioned way. She plucked something from her hair. She brought it around to the outside of her cell and jammed it into the lock.

"A hairpin?" Snow asked, slightly amused. "Does that really work?"

"I had a foster family who used to lock me in my room when I made them mad or when they didn't feel like feeding me," Emma said through her own gritted teeth as she concentrated. "I got pretty good at picking locks."

"Oh, Emma," Snow sighed.

"Look, we can save the pity part for later," Emma said, biting down on her tongue as she jerked the pin. Snow heard a loud click and Emma's door began to creak open. Emma caught it before it made too much noise and slowly slid herself outside. She closed it as gently as possible, then began work on the lock to Snow's cell door.

"And for the record," she said, looking her mother in the eye as she worked. "I don't need you to protect me. I'm pretty good at protecting myself. What I need is for you to be there. Ok?"

Snow held Emma's pleading gaze for a moment, then nodded her understanding.

"Good," Emma said as the lock shifted and Snow's door loosened. Snow slipped out of it and Emma closed it lightly before turning towards the door.

"Emma, we have to do this quickly," Snow told her as she followed. "If Regina has my heart with her right now she can see everything we are doing."

The dark hallway seemed shorter on their return. Emma and Snow traced their way along the wall back towards the vault, the volume of their breath and the skidding sounds of their footsteps echoing in their ears. Emma was grateful for the space and light as she tipped her way into the main room of the vault, still aglow with the dozens of boxed hearts that lined the walls.

"How do we tell which one it is?" she whispered to Snow.

"She wouldn't keep it with all the others," Snow told her.

"Well, then, how are we going to find it?"

"Looking for this?" a low voice growled from the shadows.

Mother and daughter whirled around in unison to face the voice as Regina emerged from the darkness, hold a delicate red heart outstretched in her hand.