Regina laid another cool cloth against Snow's forehead. The princess had been in labour for nine hours and as more time passed Regina was beginning to worry. Each contraction caused the woman she loved pain, and she was helpless to stop any of it.
"It will all be over soon, and the baby will be here," she tried to reassure Snow.
The younger woman managed a smile, taking deep breaths, her face red. Rumplestiltskin had foreseen that they might need help, and knowing no-one else could attend the birth he had provided a range of books on the subject. They had strange bindings, with many strange words, but with months to read and prepare, Regina had been feeling confident.
When the moment finally arrived, when their little girl was born, Regina held her in her arms and looked into the pair of tiny green eyes. She held the baby out to Snow, wrapped in the blanket they had made together – Snow during the day, then Regina making over once the princess fell asleep.
"What shall we call her?"
As Snow took the baby and looked down at their daughter, she spoke the name that had been on her mind for the last few months: "Emma."
As her name was spoken, the baby opened her tiny mouth and began to cry - the signal for their return to the castle.
Rumplestiltskin stood exactly as they had left him, coming to life as they returned and reaching out for the baby.
"No, I can't do it," Snow shook her head and looked at Regina. "I don't want to say goodbye. What if….?"
"Not enough time left, dearies. Five…four…three…two…"
Before he could reach 'one' Regina had taken Emma from Snow's arms, placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead and passed her to the Dark One.
"One…" Rumplestiltskin laughed as the curse surrounded them.
Regina wrapped her arms around Snow, determined not to let her go, and whispered: "we just have to believe."
Seven years later…
David Lyon, Mayor of Storybrooke, crossed the road and entered the Sheriff's station. Graham was leaning back in his chair, aiming darts at the dartboard across the room when the door opened. At the sight of his visitor, he straightened up and smiled.
"I have your paperwork here regarding the monthly reports, sir."
"Good. What about that other matter?"
"Oh, the… yes, let me just release Leroy then we can go into my office and I'll show you the files."
"Very well," David agreed, before walking into Graham's office alone.
After quickly freeing Leroy from his cell and showing him to the door, with the daily reminder not to get drunk again, Graham took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The Mayor's strange request had made him uncomfortable, but as the actions weren't illegal he had gone through with it in the hope of keeping his job.
"Auuuguuuust!"
A small boy opened his eyes at the sound of his name and smiled. The voice called again, and this time he sat up to take a look around. An unruly mop of curly blonde hair passed a couple of feet below the edge of the tree house where he was sitting.
"Up here, Emma," he called back, swinging his legs.
"Wow, did your dad build this?"
"Yep, and I helped."
Having successfully climbed the wooden boards nailed to the tree in place of a real ladder, Emma stared at the tree house and took her first step through the doorway. August was already on his feet, ready to show every inch of the small space to his best friend.
"It's amazing," Emma told him. "You're so lucky."
"We're so lucky," August reminded her, "best friends share, remember?"
Emma's face fell for a second, and she frowned, but August didn't notice. A moment later, she shook her head and smiled.
"We should get some paint, my mom's have loads in the garage. They've had it for years and never used it. I think I could sneak out some cushions too, we have way too many and I don't think they'd notice."
"Good idea. Dad said I could have some pieces of wood he doesn't need and he'll show me how to make shelves. That way we can keep more stuff here."
"That'd be great, then we could have a tin with food – in case we get hungry."
"Trust you to think of something like that."
"I'm not the one who tried to eat all the Christmas cookies as soon as we baked them."
"Just the ones we made, your mom said we could. We only used the left-over dough once she'd made her cookies, they were tiny."
"She meant once they'd cooled down."
"Hey, be nice or I'm filling the shelf with my bug collection."
Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust, "what if they get into the cookies?"
"If you stop picking on me I'll build them a separate shelf."
"On the other side of the room?"
"Deal."
"Deal," Emma grinned. "Now, other than two shelves, we'll need chairs, a table, some kind of light…"
"Woah, wait up. This is a tree house, we don't need all that."
"Of course we do. Then we can do our homework here and… have adventures."
"Adventures?" August asked cautiously.
"Explore the woods, spy on the people who get to close to our tree house, plot revenge on our enemies…"
"Plan to take over the world?" August joked, "Em, you watch too much tv."
"Nope, not allowed. My mom's really strict remember, so that's why I have all this free time to spend up here with you."
"Speaking of which, what time do you need to get home?"
"Not for hours, thanks to the late shift and grading papers. Ruby's 'babysitting'," Emma used air quotes as she spoke, "but her boyfriend joined us and I suggested coming out here. She said I could wander off as long as I didn't walk more than the count of thirty away from her – so she could call when it's time to go."
She found the strange-looking book as she left August's tree house, lying on the ground just a few feet away from the base of the tree. When she opened it and looked at the first few pages she couldn't see a name to indicate the owner, so she had called back up to August to ask if it belonged to him. It didn't.
Worried that it might rain and damage the book, Emma took it home with her intending to ask her parents if they could find the owner. By the time they returned from work it was late and there was only enough time to tuck their daughter into bed and wish her pleasant dreams. Some time in the middle of the night, Emma woke and remembered the book. Slipping her torch from the top drawer of her bedside cabinet she switched on the light and retrieved it from her bag. She listened for any sign that her parents were still awake, but the house was silent. Turning over the pages she began to read the first chapter, telling herself that if she knew what the book was it would be easier to find the person it belonged to.
In the morning the usual race to get ready left the book forgotten once more. Now that she knew it was a fairytale book, Emma thought it might belong to someone at school so she packed it in her bag. Her parents were too busy talking on the drive to school that she didn't get a chance to mention the book.