Henry sat with his head against Snow's chest, hoping they would get home soon. He was pretty sure his grandmother had not fallen asleep because Emma was staring into her face, clearly worried. Emma tried to shake her awake, but it didn't work. Snow's head still lolled to the side, exposing the her pale neck. Henry turned his head and found Charming in the same position he had been in for almost fifteen minutes now. In the diner, Henry had waved his hands in front of his grandfather's face but Charming saw nothing. He felt nothing either; Henry tried poking him in the side several times.

Henry was just as surprised as everyone else. Pinocchio had gone through the wardrobe with Emma? What did that even mean? The book said only one could go in and that's why his mother didn't get to have her parents. Henry had always wondered how Pinocchio had just been able to stroll into Storybrooke, but the book had never really elaborated on his story, until about a month ago when Emma found it, and even then it had stopped halfway.

He didn't know what any of it meant, but he knew soon enough he would. Snow's outburst had truly been frightening. He knew from the book that Snow White was not someone to mess with. He knew what she had tried to do after taking a potion and having her memories wipe out; but really, Henry had only known her as his sweet teacher. She baked cookies, liked stories, and looked small behind the green bars of the jail cell in which she didn't belong. But when she attacked Gepetto, Henry saw exactly what she was capable of. He no longer had any doubts that she could have killed the Evil Queen. The feral look in her eyes clearly said she could have done it to their old woodcutter.

When Henry used to walk around telling everyone about his theory- before he learned to keep it confidential in Operation Cobra- everyone would smile sweetly and mutter something about reality behind his back. They all thought he was insane, living in his fantasy world, and that sooner or later the real world would knock him back down. Well, it did, just not in the way everyone imagined.

As the knight Lancelot turned the truck on the right street, Henry's eyes darted over the faces of each of his new family members. He realized now, that he was surrounded by reality.

His mother was sitting the furthest away, pressed against the door. She had clearly told him, without any hesitation, that if anyone came near him she would take them down, even if it cost her her life. As much as Henry wanted to believe that it wasn't true, that Emma really couldn't hurt anyone, he now knew better. If she could kill a dragon, she could hurt a person, especially if she thought he needed protecting. He remembered the gun she had clipped to her belt yesterday. He knew too, that Snow White was equally as dangerous. The diner had just showed him that, but he had realized it when she crashed into him in the forest. Blood soaked through her jeans and yet she kept going, making sure they were well away from the line of trees before letting her arm fall away from his shoulder. Her stamina was unbeatable and he bet she was quite handy with a sword. And having the name Prince Charming did not mean that his grandfather was incapable of stepping up. Charming was strong, charismatic, and he exuded power. Henry wondered what he had done to collect such a strong following.

But it wasn't just his family that scared Henry. There was his mother, the Evil Queen, who he knew had killed Sheriff Graham and her father and Snow White's father. When it was all in the book, when the town was still cursed, it was a terrifying thought, but it hadn't really been real. Well, it was all real now and with every passing moment, Henry received tangible proof that soon the days of words and order would crumble to pieces and there might be a battle. He had to accept that everyone he knew would be in the thick of it.

The slam of the car door woke Henry from his thoughts and he sat upright ready to help Lancelot and Prince Thomas. Thomas came to their side and opened the door.

"James," he called, shaking Charming's shoulders slightly. When he received no answer, Thomas sighed and placed Charming's arm over his own shoulder, pulling his friend from the car. Henry jumped down after him.

"I'll carry her," Lancelot said to Emma. For a moment, Emma looked reluctant, but then she moved away and let the knight reach into the truck and pull out a still unconscious Snow.

Emma made her way over to him and touched her hands to his forehead rubbing her thumbs in a calming circling motion. She rested her chin on his head.

"How are you doing?" she said.

"I'm fine," Henry answered, leaning into her.

"Go ahead and open the doors for us," she said to him.

With a pat on his shoulders Emma turned away and tucked herself under her father's other side. She looked into his face trying to pull him from his trance but ended up just helping Thomas lift him. Henry ran to the doors, already having Emma's keys, and unlocked them as they trudged up to the apartment. Their footsteps were heavy, pounding the stairs, unevenly climbing to the second floor. Henry pushed the wooden green door aside quickly and stepped away giving them all room. Emma and Thomas led Charming to the couches while Lancelot stood in the doorway, Snow wrapped in his arms like a sleeping child.

"Don't tell me there are more stairs," Lancelot huffed eyeing the metal staircase that led up to Henry and Emma's room.

"Oh, no," said Henry jumping. "She sleeps in here."

He led Lancelot over to the curtain, pushing it aside to let him duck in. Lancelot carried her to the bed and then gently placed her down. Snow turned on her side and for a moment scrunched up like she was in pain, but then her face fell again into that blank look from the car.

"It's not been easy, has it?" sighed Lancelot, looking down at her.

It took a moment for Henry to realize he was being spoken to. He started and looked up to see Lancelot's dark brown eyes smiling at him.

"Yeah," Henry said, not knowing how to answer.

Lancelot grinned. "I bet you're going to be a remarkable prince."

Heat seeped up into the outermost layer of his cheeks. Henry bowed his head. "I don't think so."

So far, he had not really done anything to help anyone. He had eaten the apple and gotten Emma to believe, but really that had been stupid, impulsive and it had almost gotten him killed. Since then all Henry had been doing was tagging along with his mother, staying out of the way, and watching the disintegration of his family before they even became one.

Lancelot walked over and placed a big hand on Henry's head, cradling it like a basketball.

"Well, I do," he said. "You come from good blood, Henry. Not only that, but you're special. You seem to have already forgotten that you saved an entire world that didn't know it needed saving. I expect we'll all be pretty surprised with what you do in the future. Keep that head up."

Henry raised his chin and smirked. There was something wonderful about this world: everyone gave a lot more orders. Before, everyone in Storybrooke was unsure. When they saw Henry walking with his head down or sighing in his misery they tried to cheer him up, but they could not help him when they did not even know who they were. And so, most people had only felt pity for him, and they had done it from afar. All of that changed now; now when he bowed his head, he was told to pick it up. Lancelot told him he was special, his Grandfather told him he was important, and the citizens of Storybrooke thanked him for his bravery and determination. In just two days, his world had turned around. Some of it he wished he could erase: the pain, the suffering, the constant tears of his family. But others things, like being noticed, made all the difference.

"Let's let her rest," said Lancelot guiding Henry from the room.

In the living room Charming was moving. Thomas was down, crouched on the balls of his feet speaking to him. Emma stood to the side, arms crossed, a sad look in her eyes.

"We'll figure everything out," Thomas was saying. "You have your family. That's what's important now."

Charming nodded slowly and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"We'll have another meeting tomorrow- a smaller one," his friend said patting his leg and standing back up. Thomas and Lancelot shared a nod and moved as one, leaving the apartment.

"I'll be right back, Henry," said Emma and she followed them out of the door.

Henry padded over to the couch and crawled onto one of the cushions beside his grandfather. Charming was shaking his head as if speaking to someone who was not there. Henry stared at the opposite wall with him, admiring the cracks that ran up its face. Damaged, but homey, like everything else in Snow's home. Henry glanced at Charming who was running his hands through his hair and now had tears dropping from his eyes. Henry slid over and laid his head down on Charming's lap. It was the only thing Henry realized he could do. He couldn't erase the past, nor did he know all of it. He couldn't warn his family of what was to come or ease the pain of their tortured souls, but he could sit with them. He could let them all know that he couldn't do much, but at least he was there. Charming snaked his arm around Henry's waist and sighed a deep, resonate sigh.