Sorry this wasn't up as quickly as I thought it would be, it's much harder to write in my home than it is in my uni flat. This is the first half of this part- the rest will be up later this week, once I've finished unpacking.

Emma was once again in a hospital bed. She grimaced when she heard the mewling cry this time instead of looking first for the baby, she looked down at her wrist: sure enough there was the cold metal handcuff. She fought the panic rising within her. 'A dream,' she reminded herself, 'it's just a dream.' She pulled her arm towards her, she hoped that by reminding herself that it was a dream, she would be able to gain control over the content, but no matter how hard she pulled she didn't come free. The crying got louder, and Emma's pulling became stronger and fitful. All of a sudden, the handcuff came free of the bed, and disappeared off her wrist. Emma scrambled off of the bed, the bed sheets tangled around her legs, they attempted to trip her up as she reached for the crying baby. She scooped the baby into her arms. She almost found it hard to believe that she was in a dream, everything was just so… so real. The room was identical to the one which she gave birth in, over a decade ago, and Henry looked exactly the same as he did in her memories. But even while he was in her arms, Henry continued to cry. "It's okay, I'm here." Emma shushed. She carefully brought him to her chest and his cheek rested against hers. Emma rocked him slightly, she moved her hand to carefully cradle his head, but instead of being met with the downy newborn's hair all that her hands met were the bundle of blankets. Her neck snapped down, instead of seeing Henry, all that was in her hands was a bundle of blankets. Henry was nowhere in sight. Her head darted around, frantically searching the room for him. "Henry! Henry!" she screamed frantically. She dropped the blankets and ran to where the crib now stood in the corner. As much as she ran the crib it seemed to be the same distance away, all the while she continued to scream for her son even as her voice turned hoarse, after what seemed like hours later she reached it. All that was inside the crib was a piece of paper, the paper which Emma signed about fourteen years ago, the termination of parental rights over her son.

*OUAT*

"Henry." Emma said quietly as she woke up. She shot upright when she saw that she was in a hospital still, it took her a second to wake up some more and to notice that her father was with her, asleep on the couch. Part of her wanted David to wake up, to notice that something was wrong, but he carried on sleeping, his quiet breathing filled the room. The more dominant part of Emma, however, didn't want her father to wake up; she knew that if she told him about her dream, he'd just say something to make her feel better, whether he was right about what he was saying or not. She didn't feel in the mood to be comforted though, or to be given fake assurances, she was much more in the mood to wallow in her own unhappiness.

The door creaked open letting a stream of yellow tainted light into the room. "Yes, sir, I'm at her room now." An unfamiliar voice said, still outside in the corridor.

Emma frowned unsure who the man was talking to, she didn't like the way he was talking though, in fact she wasn't sure if she'd be able to protect herself if he was up to something. She decided it'd be best if she just played possum. She quickly leaned back against the bed, and mostly closed her eyes, but made sure to keep them open a slither so she could see who it was who spoke.

The man had short, almost military hair, and although Emma couldn't make out most of his features, she could make out one; a large scar in the form of an indent ran down from his forehead, down his eye, to his jaw.

"No, sir, the shepherd's still here. Yes, sir, understood." The man whispered, in a gravely tone, then backed out of the room; leaving the room in darkness behind him. "Yes, I agree sir, plan B it is, I'll let him know now."

Before Emma had a chance to contemplate who the man was, she drifted back to sleep.

*OUAT*

Emma stood at the door to the loft, the number three on the door was polished to a near mirror shine, she couldn't help but feel that it was out of place for the ordinary loft; which much suited the matt brass which had been on the door for three decades. It even felt out of place before Emma noticed that the number was hanging upside down. She placed her palm on the green door, and it swung open.

The scene which met her eyes was not the usual one, however, there was no sign of the loft which had only changed slightly since Emma had first moved in. Inside was a large room with archways with wooden pillars leading off to, what Emma could only assume were, yet more parts of the room. The smoothed stone walls were beige, but were warm and homely, especially in contrast to the sterile hospital walls. There was a multi-coloured rug which was plush under her feet as Emma walked forward. Between her and a balcony, surrounded by circular stained glass windows, stood a wooden crib - above which hung a mobile made of glass unicorns.

It was Emma's nursery. Or, at least, it should have been Emma's nursery.

All around the room were toys, so many Emma couldn't even count them. She had assumed she was in the Enchanted Forest, so was surprised to see stuff animals that were around in the Land-Without-Magic, but the more she thought, she realised she had seen them when she was in the nursery with her mother; but had been too overwhelmed to pay proper attention: 'guarding' the room were giant lions, and tigers and…

"Oh my…" Emma trailed off she as walked towards the wooden crib: there was the bear David had told her about. The light from candles in the room hit the bear's emerald eyes, and before she knew it Emma had picked up the bear.

"Turn around slowly and we'll let you live." A voice growled at her, so familiar, yet completely foreign to her.

She slowly turned around, her hands were in the air the bear still clutched in one of them, she came face to face with a sword, and an arrow being pointed at her: her parents were holding the weapons with threatening looks on their faces.

"Who are you?" her mother asked her bluntly.

"And be aware, we will know if you are lying to us." Her father threatened.

Emma could have joked that she was very much aware of that fact, after all they realised that she was lying at least eighty percent of the times, but she didn't. She felt as though her heart had been ripped out.
"Mom? Dad?" she could hear her voice was barely filling the room, yet she didn't feel confident enough to speak any louder. "It's me. Its... it's Emma, your daughter."

"You're not our daughter." She wasn't sure which one of them spoke, or even if either of them moved their lips, the words were enough to break her heart.

"This is, it's my room." She stuttered.

"This is our son's room." David replied harshly. It was only then she realised that he wasn't in his Enchanted Forest attire, neither of them were, which only made the dream more realistic.

"I think I remember the name Emma." Mary Margret said to David. "We gave her up, so we could have our happy ending, so we could have Neal."

Her parents wouldn't have even called him 'Neal' if they hadn't known her, deep down she knew this, she knew it wasn't real… but why did it hurt so much?

"I remember that." David confirmed, his voice turned to a sneer. "She wasn't fit to be a princess, or to be our daughter."

Mary Margret finally turned back to look at Emma, her bow was still pointed at Emma, the string still pulled back with an arrow aiming at Emma's heart.

"No," Emma protested weakly, "you were giving me my best chance."

David snorted scathingly "We just told you that to sooth our own guilt, but then we realised it wasn't our fault."

"It was yours." Mary Margret finished. "You weren't good enough for us, and you never will be. And we will not have you ruining our happy ending now."

She felt as though huge, red, flashing lights were going off in her head, it wasn't right, none of this dream was right… but it felt so real. All of a sudden, her head went quiet. She stumbled backwards, she slid down with her back against the crib, she could feel the soft fur of the teddy bear in her hand- her dad was right it was keeping her grounded. She watched the red pool out of her chest, she could see the sword and arrow still stuck in her chest. She felt herself fade out.

*OUAT*

Emma jerked awake. She pressed her hands to her chest, she could feel the tight pain as she tried to steady her breathing, but it was a contrast to the fading feeling from her dream. She brought her hands away from her chest and was relieved to see that it wasn't tinged with red. David continued to sleep in the corner of the room, but Emma had no intention to be falling back asleep anytime soon, instead she grabbed her phone from the side table. It wasn't even six am, Emma was annoyed to find, instead she messaged Henry to wish him a good day at school and that she'd see him as soon as she could. She watched as the time clicked by slowly, she busied herself by playing the odd few games she had on her phone, eventually she watched the time on her phone hit six am. She wished that she still had her laptop with her, then at least she'd be able to distract herself, maybe she'd even be able to see what was going on at the station yesterday; but Mary Margret had taken it with her, she claimed it would be easier for when Emma went home later on that day: but Emma was sure it was because her mother didn't trust her with it. Her mind was still preoccupied with her dream. It wasn't… it couldn't be true… could it? She just wanted to go home, but that was also kind of the last thing she wanted to do, she didn't want to be stuck around her parents. She wanted to go back to work, she wanted to spend time with Henry… but would he want to spend time with her? Did he have doubts about her wanting him? Did he ever resent her? Did she resent her parents? No, of course she didn't… well not really. She felt as though she was at war with herself, she didn't normally feel like this, even when her mother was pregnant with Neal she felt more secure... 'It was just a stupid dream." She reminded herself.

"Hey."

Emma jumped at her father's voice, she looked over at him to see him now sat up on the couch, the smirk on his face too closely resembled the look on his face in her dream. she looked away before she could see him change his look into one of concern. "Hey." She muttered back.

David stood up and stretched, he was so looking forward to being able to sleep in his own bed again, though he knew he wouldn't sleep restfully until they had caught George. He walked over to sit on the chair next to Emma's bed once more, his main concern at that moment was if Emma was okay, and by the looks of it she wasn't. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked in a careful tone.

"Yeah I'm fine." Emma said tightly.

"You sure? You're up pretty early," He tried to sound as casual as possible he didn't want to push her too much, "did you have another bad dream?"

"I'm fine." Emma said, her tone unchanged. "I'm not tired 'cause I'm feeling better." She started to pull the blankets away from her. "I'm going to get changed." She answered David's unasked question, before she walked into the bathroom with her change of clothes.

*OUAT*

David lent back against his chair with a sigh. Emma was most definitely not fine. He picked up his phone and hit the first number on his speed dial.

"Hey David, you're calling early, is everything okay? Is Emma okay?" Mary Margret asked quickly.

"Oh no, no don't worry, she's okay. Well, mostly." David suddenly regretted calling just yet, maybe he was just freaking out over nothing.

"You're not making me feel very reassured." She said dryly. "David, what's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing…" he ran his hand through his hair.

"…. But you have a bad feeling?" Mary Margret guessed.

David simply nodded. He remembered that she wouldn't be able to see him. "Yeah, I do." He confirmed.

"Okay, so tell me what's up."

"Emma's really quiet, she was up before I was, she's claiming she's fine and that she feels better."

"Did she have a bad dream?"

David could hear the concern in his wife's voice too, apparently he was right to be worried. "I asked her that, but she just claimed that she was fine. Mary Margret, it might just be nothing, she's not the most talkative in the mornings as it is."

"David, if your instincts are telling you that something is wrong, I trust them. You're her father, you know her better than most people, and you're probably right about this."

David said nothing, clearly his wife's mind was already made up.

"So she didn't actually deny it." Mary Margret sighed as she thought back to what David said. "I'll come to the hospital earlier then, maybe we'll be able to get her to talk before we come home, as long as Whale clears her to come home that is."

"I think he will, when I spoke to him last he seemed pretty intent on getting Emma out here as soon as possible, I'm sure the feeling's likewise for Em." David joked.

"Where is Emma, by the way? Are you in the corridor?" she tried to keep the worry out of her voice, she knew David wouldn't put either of their children in danger, at least not on purpose.

"Don't worry, she's getting changed in the bathroom, I think she's coming out now." He watched as the door handle of the room go down, Emma rubbed her eyes as she walked into the room, she shivered as she walked back into the main room. For whatever reason she had neglect to take any of the borrowed hoodies with her to change, even as she walked further into the room she didn't pick one up to change into. "Hey, Em, your mom's on the phone, you want to say hi to her?" he smiled welcomingly at her.

Emma looked like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, eventually she nodded and took his proffered cell off of him.

As Emma talked quietly on the phone to Mary Margret, David busied himself by retrieving the jacket he was sure his wife had left Emma to wear. Sure enough, in the small cupboard was a grey hoody which Emma was often stealing, he felt perplexed as why should wouldn't be wearing it, he walked back over to the bed where Emma sat and waited for her to finish talking to Mary Margret.

*OUAT*

David was at the end of his tether. He'd already argued with Emma that she needed to put the jacket on, she only agreed because she was unable to argue anymore when she was shivering so much her teeth were chattering. She was clearly, and understandably, exhausted, she had been told by nurses and the doctor throughout her stay in the hospital that she would get tired quickly and that she needed to rest. But David had been completely unable to convince her to sleep: she wouldn't even answer any questions about what time she had woke up, or if she had had any bad dreams.

Emma now sat on top of her bed covers, she was fully dressed and had her bag next to her, she crossed her arms over her chest: she would have left the hospital already but her father had basically forbidden her from trying to discharge herself.
"I don't need that: I'm going home soon." She told the nurse when she saw her bringing the food in.
The nurse was one Emma had seen a fair amount in the few days which Emma had been a patient, she was maybe a couple of years older than Emma, and obviously had a crush on Emma's father. She suddenly remembered the strange man who walked into her room last night, she wasn't even sure if he was real, but there was a realness to him which wasn't like her dreams. If she hadn't noticed his orderly's uniform she might have woken her father, there was something about the man that made her uneasy, perhaps if she had woken her father she wouldn't have had that second dream. She shook her head minutely, she didn't want to think about her dreams, even if she could feel them slightly affecting her: the guilt from her first dream had silenced her, and the second one… the second one Emma knew wasn't logical, or at least she thought she did. She felt as though there was one part of her brain taking over, trying to convince her that it was realistic, somehow it was winning the fight. Now all she wanted to do was push them away, to put up her walls, and to run away from everything and everyone.

"Actually, she will have it, thank you." David told the nurse politely as he shot her his trademark charming smile.

Emma stiffened at David's tone, although he had made it sound pleasant enough, she knew that he was very clearly unhappy with Emma.

The nurse, however, didn't seem to notice the hardness beneath David's tone, instead she placed the tray down on the table and giggled at David as she blushed, completely ignoring Emma.

Emma stared at the door in disgust, she had never understood the embarrassment that children and teenagers complained about when strangers flirted with their parents, until now. Now she understood, it was just something that didn't seem right, it was something she didn't want to know about happening, let alone right in front of her eyes.

"Emma, just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, does not mean you get to take it out on anyone else." David said firmly. "I've already told you, you are only getting out of here when Whale discharges you."

"Why does he even have to do it? Can't a nurse or someone do it?" Emma all but whined.

"Whale knows more about your treatment than anyone else does, even though I'm not his biggest fan, I'd rather he gives you the all clear than anyone else." David said gently, "Whale needs to discharge you so we can get an idea of a treatment plan for you, also we need to make sure you don't need any follow up appointments." He was aware that he was simply repeating himself, and that Emma was no more likely to accept his statement than she did the previous times, but she was obviously tired and something was clearly bugging her; so he was working hard to keep his patience. "Why don't you eat your breakfast, your mom will be here soon, maybe she'll be able to distract you."

"I'm not a child," Emma grumbled "I do not need my mom to 'keep me distracted'."

"Could have fooled me." David muttered as he wheeled her tray over to her.
Judging from the glare, which would have no one doubting who Emma's parents were, he was not nearly as quiet as he thought. He hoped she'd be distracted by her breakfast enough to momentarily halt her eagerness to leave, and hopefully it would ease her bad mood slightly, David couldn't help but feel that Emma was acting similar to how Neal acted when he was having a bad day. David had also noticed Emma had been eating far less than usual while she was in the hospital, whether that was because she wasn't a fan of the hospital food, or if she wasn't as hungry due to being ill; David was worried.
"Here you go, Em," he uncovered the tray to reveal cereal, toast, and a piece of fruit, "I'll get you some juice to go with this." He said with a smile.

"No."

"No?" David sighed wearily, he had hoped that she would have gone through this without an argument, but evidentially not.

"No." Emma confirmed not looking at her father. "I'm not going to eat it, I don't need it if I'm going home, and I'm not hungry."

"Emma, you need to eat some of it." David said with an air of finality.

"No." Emma repeated. She actually didn't feel hungry, and although she was sure she might have been able to force herself to at least try some of the toast, she felt inclined to argue.

"You will be eating your breakfast, young lady, or you will not be leaving here today." David commanded in his 'dad' voice, he tried to reign in his temper, but found it very hard to keep control as he was overwhelmed with worry. He could only drop his mouth open in shock when Emma looked away to stare at the wall, normally she would at least listen to him when he used that voice, normally she would talk to him about why she didn't want to do something: but today? Today she was completely closed off, he felt at a loss as to what to do, he couldn't help but wish Mary Margret was there.

*OUAT*

Emma could feel her blood boiling in her body. She was just so tired of everything. It was bad enough she had to go to the hospital at all, let alone having been stuck in there for four days. She hated absolutely everything: being constantly stuck in one room, the constant check by nurses, Whale's patronising and infuriating visits, the horrible food, even when her parents bought her some other food she wasn't hungry enough to eat it.

Then there was the pain, she had the usual tightness in her chest which went hand in hand with bad asthma, but this time it was amplified, she could feel how shallow her breaths were – even when she tried to take deep breaths she could still feel the tight sting. Not to mention the ache in her chest and stomach ached from overuse.

She was just so tired.

But most of all she was tired with how she had been taking a lot off it out on her parents. She hated that she didn't feel secure enough to stay in the hospital, she hated the dream which made her want to, and try to, run away. She hated the dreams, how they made her feel so weak, she hated that she was watching herself become closed off again.

All she could do was to hold her breath, so to speak, and wait for her parents to give up on her. For them to decide it was all too much for them, that she was too much.

She carried on glaring at the hospital wall, she hated so much, as she tried to control her emotions. Focusing on being silent and still as the tears rolled down her face. She wasn't sure if her father could see her. Or if he would care.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice David staring at the back of her head, or Mary Margret entering the room.

*OUAT*

Mary Margret felt relieved when she didn't hear David and Emma arguing down the almost silent corridor. The corridor had become rather familiar to her now, it was one of the quieter ones in the hospital, Emma had clearly been made one of the top priority due to the severity and unpredictability of her illness. Mary Margret had rung Doctor Whale the previous night to confirm that Emma would, in fact, be coming home today. Although he said he would have preferred a patient in Emma's condition to stay for a day or two more, he was aware that the stress of being in hospital was not helping Emma's asthma in the slightest.

So in the early hours of the morning, when Mary Margret couldn't sleep any longer, she set about making some cakes to take in and say thank you to the nurses. She also made sure that Emma's room was ready for her to sleep in, and that it was dust free, so not to trigger another attack. She even made an extra cake for Ruby and Granny as a thank you for: looking after Neal, for helping on the search for George, and payment for Ruby giving Mary Margret a lift into the hospital that morning.

As she diligently delivered the cakes, she noticed an unfamiliar man wearing a porter's uniform looking through the window into Emma's room, she frowned slightly as he continued to walk passed her toward the main bit of the hospital: but thought nothing more about the man, and his scarred face, as she walked through the door into Emma's room.

*OUAT*

The man held his cell phone to his ear, his spare hand brushed his scar almost subconsciously, eventually the call clicked through and he could hear the breathing of the other man down the phone. "Her mother's in the room with her now, sir, she's exactly where you want her." The man on the other end of the phone replied shortly before hanging up.

And the man with the scar left the hospital.

*OUAT*

"Good morning Emma," Mary Margret greeted with a smile as she entered the room, "good morning David." Her smile slid as she realised that Emma was looking in the opposite direction of the room that she and David were on.

She watched as David spun around to face her, she could see his shoulders relax slightly, but he continued to a look of absolute fear on his face. He uncrossed his arms and walked over to her.

Mary Margret took hold of his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "What happened?"

David let his mouth hang open as he shrugged, "I don't… I don't know, she's been distant and on edge all morning. I told her she had to eat her breakfast otherwise she won't be allowed home. The next thing I knew she was like this.", he nodded his head towards Emma.

Mary Margret nodded, she leant up on her tiptoes at pressed a kiss to David's lips. She had seen Emma close up before, a while ago, just after Graham had died. Despite everything she had tried, Emma had stayed closed up, luckily that experience had taught Mary Margret what she needed to do now. She needed to get a reaction of any kind out of Emma. She nodded, determinedly, at David. "We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Mary Margret tapped Emma on the shoulder, she watched Emma jump at the contact, wipe her face, and turn in the general direction of Mary Margret. "Have you finished sulking?" Mary Margret asked, keeping her resolve.

"I'm not sulking." Emma muttered, she could only see her mother's shoes as she refused to look up, she wondered how long she had been in the room for and why she hadn't noticed her get in there: unless this was yet again part of her dream.

"Yes you are." Mary Margret disagreed. "Let your father and I know when you've finished, and we'll talk to you." She moved back towards her husband, who simply looked at her confused, she shook her head telling him to wait a second. As soon as she heard Emma scoff, she stopped and turned back to face her daughter.

"I'm not a child." The blonde muttered angrily, she still didn't meet her parent's faces.

"I'm well aware that you're not." Mary Margret said, not unkindly, "However, you are acting like one. So when you stop acting like one, your father and I will stop treating you like one." She pursed her lips, she could see that Emma still had tear tracks going down her face, she knew she just needed a catalyst to tell them what was going on in her head.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY?!" Emma exploded, the second half of her sentence only just understandable through her cough.

Mary Margret took a step in shock, her back was now pressed against David's chest and she felt him tense up at Emma's outburst. It was not what they were expecting at all. Had they not just spent the past four days proving to Emma that they cared about her beyond belief, that they would do anything for her? They automatically took each other's hand, and interlocked their fingers, they walked further towards Emma's bed.

"You're going to anyway, I get it, just…" Emma trailed off. She hadn't meant to say her thoughts out loud, she wished she could somehow shove them all back in… but she couldn't, so instead she stared at her bed covers, and waited for the footsteps to tell her that her parents had left as she attempted to quell an oncoming panic attack.

"Emma. Look at us please." David requested kindly.

It took her a couple of minutes, but eventually Emma turned her head towards her parents, she briefly glanced at their faces but rapidly looked back down. She felt David's fingers under her chin, and gently push it up. she looked at them properly this time. She almost couldn't understand, or believe, the concern that was practically radiating off of them.

Mary Margret took the opportunity to take Emma's hand into her own, and she began to rub her thumb against Emma's knuckles, matching the rhythm that David was doing the action to her own hand.

Emma saw her own face reflected in David's pupils which were surrounded by a sea of blue. She could see the desperation for something in his eyes as he started to talk.

"We're not leaving you Emma. No matter what." He promised, he willed her to believe him.

She felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, she surged forwards burying her face in her father's shoulder, and hoped that he wouldn't notice the tears soaking through his shirt. She wrapped one arm around him, and the other around her mother, tears of relief now filled her eyes as she felt them both wrap their arms around her too.

"Sweetheart, your dad's right," Mary Margret stoked her hair with one hand, "we aren't going away. We're never leaving you. We know that being in hospital brings back memories, and we're sorry you had to go through that, but that's never going to happen again."

Emma gave a small nod.

"Sweetie," Mary Margret started a few minutes later, "what made you feel like this?"

"I… I had a stupid dream." Emma mumbled, finally moving away from her parent's embrace.

"Tell us about it." David commanded.

"I was outside the loft…" Emma began, she decided to tell them only about the one that concerned them, after all there wouldn't be much they could do about her dream about Henry: only he would be able to help her with that one.

*OUAT*

"Emma," David brushed his along Emma's cheek, wiping away any stray tears, "this dream you had, did it feel unlike any you had before?"

Emma frowned at him, her nose scrunched up slightly, she rubbed her lips together as she tried to remember the dream which seemed to be fading from her mind all of a sudden. "Kind of, but then… it's like I knew it was wrong, but I wasn't allowed to think otherwise?" She felt ridiculous even saying it out loud all of a sudden.

Mary Margret noticed the serious look on David's face. "David?"

David shared a silent conversation with his wife, he waited to see her look with dread at what he had conveyed to her, then he turned back to Emma. "Emma, we have to tell you about something. It's to do with King George…"