A/N: I was really looking forward to this chapter after finishing the last, but once actually faced with it, it turned out to be harder than I thought it would be. I hope it reads well :) reviews would be lovely :)

"... Henry?"

"Hi."

Henry answers quietly, raising his hand in an awkward little wave, before hugging his knees once again in much the same way as the blonde does her own.

"My mom's looking for you."

He states eventually to break the silence, and he cocks his jaw as he notes the way Emma has kept her eyes carefully lowered since her initial acknowledgement. He wants to tell her that it's ok; that she can look at him, but he can't. He doesn't really know what to say- what to do- as a part of him wants nothing more than to crawl over and hug the woman sat shivering in front of him, while another part of him still sees her as little more than a stranger and resents this fact.

The fact. I resent the fact. Not Emma, though...

No, not at all. There had been a short period a while ago when he'd felt stung by her rejection, and the resultant hurt had twisted into something unkind and accusatory. Regina had sat down and spoken to him about it all, though. She'd sat and explained things the way Emma had once explained them herself to Ruby. She'd asked him if he was happy- in general, in life, was he happy?- and he'd affirmed that he was with an irritated frown, only to have Regina smile at him warmly and tell him that he might have his mothers- both of them- to thank for that. He'd pushed for her to explain, and she'd spoken of his security while in her care and his lack for wanting anything but to know his birth parents, which she'd assured to understand.

"She was giving you your best chance, Henry."

Regina had sighed as they'd sat in her study what seems like a lifetime ago. She'd given him his first, abridged explanation of how things had been for the blonde when they had met, before stating quietly

"I knew Emma very well. She was a good person, and she cared. About you, about me, about others. She did what was best for you, but that doesn't mean it was what was best for her. I think she lost a part of herself when she gave you up, Henry, because she loved you. She loved you so much that she was willing to lose you. I understand how you must sometimes feel, sweetheart, but I also understood Emma. It's easy to conjure up alternative scenarios and 'what ifs', but in this case, that wouldn't be fair. Not on me, as I have raised you as my own and have done so very well, and not on her. There were no 'what ifs' in Miss Swan's world at the time that would have been wise for either of you. That is a terrible position to be in, Henry; to sit on your own in a cell with a thousand 'what ifs' to grasp at desperately, before having to refuse each and every one. That is a heavy burden to take to bed with you each night, I'd imagine."

Of course, Regina has her own burdens. Her own series of unfortunate events. But he loves her fiercely anyway.

"Do you mind if I text my mom to let her know I found you? She was really worried. I won't tell her you're here, just that you're ok."

Henry asks after a long stretch of silence, and the blonde frowns as though suffering a headache as she tries to wrap her mind around the kid's words.

I'm ok? Am I? Am I okay?

She doesn't exactly know, but she nods woodenly as Henry regards her intently; waiting for an answer.

"Good."

He smiles, tapping lightly at his phone before slipping it back into his coat pocket and rubbing his hands together briskly.

"Archie thinks we might get snow tonight."

He continues amiably, and green eyes flicker up to meet his for a second as Emma wonders why in the hell the kid's talking to her at all.

Maybe he doesn't know...

The thought breeds a new flash of panic low in her gut, but she appeases it swiftly; remembering a few of Henry's more curious statements since she's arrived and fairly certain that the boy knows exactly who she is.

Then... Why is he smiling at me?

"Henry..."

She tries again, and her voice sounds rusty as though it hasn't been used for a long time. She falters for how to go on, feeling like she might cry and warning herself furiously not to dare. To do so would be highly inappropriate. She has no right to be the one crying here.

But then, what can she do? What can she say...?

"I'm sorry..."

It's little more than a whisper, but the young boy jerks as though she's screamed it in his face. Blinking as he watches the blonde go back to chewing on her lip- sharp teeth working soft flesh in a harsh, punishing fervour- he shakes his head and prompts softly

"You remember, don't you? My mom... She made you remember somehow..."

"This can't be real..."

"It is, though. You know it is."

"How is that possible?!"

"Magic."

Henry informs her solemnly, but he's not at all affronted when she shakes her head dismissively in response.

"There is no magic in this world, kid..."

"Not yet."

"...Why did you come looking for me?"

Emma asks quietly, fresh blood welling at her mouth and salt glistening through thick lashes.

"I didn't, really. I came out here to think about stuff, but I saw you when I got a little way down the beach and thought you might need someone to talk to. I know I do."

"Why would you want to talk to me?"

"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

Silence, and Emma knows she should be the one to break it; she's the adult here, she's the one that's got something to make up for. The words don't come though, only terrible guilt and overwhelming confusion as she wonders if she's slowly losing any sanity she might once have possessed.

How can this be?

Why?

Why would she send me away if everything I think I remember is true?

In the end, Henry speaks. He may be ten, but he holds no grudge towards the blonde for the fact that she's inadvertently making him do most of the work. She looks tired and frightened. Sick. This is all a huge blow to the guts for her, whereas he has had time to process and adapt. There's something else, too. Something he can't put into words or fully grasp being so young, but it is something he feels deep down even if he can't express it aloud or even to himself: she is alone in this. He has had Regina to explain things to him and talk things through with him whenever he's doubted himself, Emma, or their imminent bond in time. The blonde has had no one. She's had no one to reason things over with; no one to talk to about why things went the way that they had and give her an assurance to quieten the guilt that glitters in her eyes. His mother might once have told her that everything was okay- that her decisions were understandable, and not born of some hideous evil or neglect- but those conversations will have been lost for the last ten years. That assurance will have been forgotten.

"I know why you did it."

He states softly.

"How could you? How could you know and still look at me?"

"Because, I understand. My mom told me why you did it; to give me my best chance."

"...And you believe her?"

Emma asks; dumbfounded.

Why, though? Why are you so shocked? Isn't that what you've always told yourself about your own parents? Isn't that all you've ever wanted to hear, and all would be forgiven?

... Sure... Because I knew deep down it would never happen. So it was safe to tell myself those things.

Safe to pretend like I wouldn't be angry.

"I'm not angry, if that's what you're worried about."

Henry interrupts her thoughts quietly, and finally, she looks at him- allowing him a proper, naked study of her eyes and everything in them- and he smiles shyly and shifts so that he sits with his legs crossed and his hands buried in the pockets of his coat.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. I'm really happy that you're here and I'll finally get to know you. I feel like I kind of do already... My mom talks about you a lot."

"I just... I just... I don't understand! I don't understand how I could suddenly remember all these things that I know must have happened, but they can't have, and-"

"-They happened."

"How?! I-"

"-I think my mom better explain all that... Will you come? Will you come back with me? Please?"

"I... I don't-"

But she breaks off, frozen, as Henry leans forward and reaches for her hand; squeezing it softly.

"I'm so sorry..."

She repeats, before her heart stops and her breath gets caught in her throat when the boy offers her a timid glance followed by a tentative embrace.

"H-Hen..."

She chokes into the wool of his coat, and her mind races from one hazy, impossible scene to another. Regina's bed, her office, her kitchen... Regina telling her that she understood. That she wasn't the terrible person she was sure that she was. That she'd done the right thing. Regina telling her these wonderful, impossible things about the infant- the baby- asleep in the warm comfort of her care.

"Please don't be upset... We're happy; we're happy to have you back. To have you home."

Henry assures with a salted note to his own voice as he murmurs into the blonde's hair. Hair that smells like rain and honey. Not like Regina's, as he had recently pondered, and the leather of Emma's coat is a far cry to wrapping his arms around the soft wool of his mother's sweaters and jackets, or the silk of her shirts. It's still nice, though. Wonderful to have both parents after so many years of waiting.

"Come on. It's cold out here. Let's go home."

Henry urges finally; unwilling to pull himself away from the blonde despite her rigid response to his embrace. He speaks the truth, though. The air is thick with a bitter chill, and there is so much to discuss back at the mansion.

"My mom has a lot to explain to you."

He says as he clambers down from the castle onto packed dirt.

I don't see how she could ever explain this to me...

Emma muses solemnly, but she doesn't say so out loud. She merely resigns to accompanying Henry back across the beach with the wind whipping at their hair and ruffling their jackets.

Up above, a seagull lets loose a harrowing scream, and she can't help but fear that this might be some sort of sign of things to come.

A warning.