Henry
Monday
Henry Mills looked up curiously at the unusually slow sound of his mother entering the kitchen. Some of his earliest memories as a small child were of his seemingly indomitable parent efficiently completing with practiced ease the feat of multi-tasking that saw him leave for school each day with his nutritionally balanced packed lunch and every book he could possibly require whilst his immaculately presented mom left the house pristine ready for a busy day of running their town. Now, unable to ignore her sluggish movements, he took a moment to take in the abnormally pale face and weary frame of the woman who had raised him for the majority of his fifteen years. On seeing him watching her, his mom flashed him a bright smile. As he moved closer to ditch his empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher, he was surprised at the rush of protectiveness he felt on noticing that for the first time they stood at the same height. Resting a hand on her shoulder he pointedly looked her up and down, as she visibly straightened her posture. He knew that things had been pretty crappy for his mom since the whole Robin and Zelena fiasco, but sometimes he still selfishly wished that the brittle edges and sharp corners of her hard-ass persona, that his ten year old self had vilified would make some kind of an appearance to at least reassure him that she was still able to protect herself from the battering that life seemed intent on giving her. Ignoring the twist in his stomach as he watched her walls struggle to rise in front of him, he put on his best adult voice.
"Mom, are you ok?"
His mom seemed to deflate in front of him, and for a horrible moment he thought she might cry. But in a second, the familiar mask slipped back in place, as she patted him hesitantly on the arm.
"Of course, dear. I'm fine. Now go before you're late for school."
Sighing slightly dramatically, Henry gave his mom one final stare before pulling on his backpack and heading for the door. As he pushed through the neat garden gate and onto the street, he reached into his pocket grabbing his cell. Unable to shake the feeling that his mom needed someone today, he fired off a text to the one person he knew would be that someone without question.
'Emma. Need your help. It's mom.'
-/-
Relishing the freedom that came with the end of another school day, Henry casually pushed open the door to Granny's and was surprised to see Snow sitting there alone, staring at her phone with a look of confusion. Sighing, he threw his backpack onto the empty seat across from her sliding in after it.
"Grams?"
The brunette looked up somewhat startled before collecting herself and smiling brightly.
"Hi, Henry. How was school?"
In deference to the teenager her now truly was, Henry shrugged noncommittally. "It was ok. Are you waiting for Emma?"
Snow's smile grew at the mention of her daughter's name. "Yes, she was meant to meet me here fifteen minutes ago, but she must be running late. Have you seen her?"
Scanning the street for any sign of his biological mother, Henry turned his attention back to his grandparent. "I was worried about mom, so Emma was going to check in with her. She might still be there."
Snow looked immediately concerned. "Is Regina ok?"
Fighting his childhood, and ok in hindsight immature and unintentionally cruel, impulse to wonder how Snow White could be so genuinely concerned about the well-being of the Evil Queen who had terrorised her for so many years, Henry schooled his features in a fashion that would have impressed even his mom.
"I think she's sick, but she wouldn't tell me, so Emma was gonna go see her. I'll text her."
Snow's expression seemed somewhere between amused and curious for a moment before she smiled at her grandson warmly, watching his fingers fly over the keypad of his cell before tossing it back into his backpack.
"Well then it looks like I've been stood up in favour of Regina, so what do you say you and I grab some fries and ice-cream and we don't tell your moms?"
Henry grinned in spite of himself. "Cool."
The moment was interrupted by the buzzing of a phone, sending both the teenager and his grandmother rooting through their bags for the source. Victorious, Henry retrieved his phone from under a math book, quickly scanning the response from Emma.
Lifting his cell up he held it out to Snow, again noticing the start of a smirk flitting across her face before concern once again took over. Before Henry could reply he was amused to see his grandmother firing out a message at, he noted, am impressive speed on the new iPhone that Emma had insisted both she and David use. On seeing the teenager's approving look, Snow shrugged nonchalantly. Moments later the device beeped in response and her expression became thoughtful. After typing out a slightly longer message than previous, she locked the device slipping it back into her bag and smiling at her grandson.
"Well it looks like you were right, Henry. Emma says Regina has a migraine so are you ok to stay with David and I at the loft tonight?"
Again, realising just how much things had changed over the last few years, Henry was unable to hide his hesitance. Not wanting to upset Snow, he started to reply, before noticing the understanding look on her face.
"It's ok, Henry. Emma's staying with Regina so we both know she'll be fine."
Not stopping to question the certainty he felt that his mom would be ok as long as Emma was there, Henry grinned cheekily.
"So, what is it you were saying about ice-cream for dinner?"
Tuesday
Looking forward to spending the night in his own bed, and more importantly away from his screaming baby uncle, Henry walked up the front path of his childhood home. Finding 108 Mifflin Street in darkness, he cautiously let himself in through the imposing front door. He was greeted with the weary sight of his biological mother quietly making her way down the stairs. Taking in the sight of the noticeable bags under her eyes, he was about to ask what the hell was going on, as Emma raised one finger to her lips, her other hand motioning, in his view a little over-dramatically, toward the kitchen. Following her instruction, he trailed behind her into the room, noticing that Emma pulled the door quietly closed before she spoke.
"Hey, kid. Sorry 'bout last night."
"It's cool." He shrugged. "Is mom ok?"
At the mention of his mom, Henry noted somewhat strangely, that a small smile crossed Emma's exhausted face.
"It's been kind of a long night, or day, or… whatever." She shrugged in a mirror image of her son's earlier gesture. "She's still sleeping." She paused. "I think her headache's eased up, but she probably feels pretty crappy so go easy on her, ok?"
Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm not a bratty little kid anymore, y'know?" He paused for a moment, his expression becoming serious. "But thank you, for taking care of her, I mean. I know she doesn't make it easy for people to help her."
Emma shrugged again, looking uncomfortable, but Henry wasn't sure why. "Hey, I'm not just people, ok. The timeline may have got kinda screwed up, but we're all family. And not to sound as cheesy as my mom, we look after each other 'cause that's what family do. So, when your mom needs help, she gets it."
Unsure what to make of his biological mom's unexpected outburst, Henry stopped for a moment before grinning easily. "So, what's for dinner?"
Seeing the genuinely panicked look on Emma's face, he felt slightly guilty and quickly held up a paper bag of groceries sitting precariously on top of his backpack. "Chill, ok. Did you think grams would send me back here without knowing that all three of us would be fed?"
Emma looked so relieved that Henry half expected her to hug him. However, her expression soon shifted to one of curiosity as she waved her hands indicating for him to continue.
"Tonight, on the menu we have chicken from Granny's – already cooked so no one gets hurt – and a salad that Grams thought would do us good and make mom happy."
He looked up from the bag to see Emma smiling at him knowingly. "She gave you ice cream for dinner last night, didn't she?" At Henry's lack of response, Emma's smirk grew. "Don't worry, kid. Your secret's safe with me. Now why don't you go wash up, and I'll go see if your mom's awake, so we can eat."
Henry watched as Emma pushed open the door, following her up the stairs to head to his bedroom. He stopped for a moment listening to a soft exchange of words coming from his mom's bedroom. Peeking in curiously as he walked past, he was surprised to see Emma perched casually on the bed, one hand resting carefully on his mom's face, with both women acting as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Ignoring the sudden feeling of guilt that he had intruded upon a private moment, he slipped quietly into his room.
-/-
Henry was already back in the kitchen when Emma returned. In the time she'd been 'checking on his mom' he'd already managed to unpack his schoolbooks and plate three salads. As he turned his attention to the chicken, he could feel his biological parent watching him closely. When he turned around, he could see that Emma once again had an odd look on her face, but unsure what it meant or what he should do, he opted for a safer topic.
"How's mom doing?"
The evident lack of sleep, he realised with some satisfaction, was making the rest of Emma's thoughts easier to read. Whilst he knew his biological mom was probably more truthful with him than some of the other adults in his life, he could right now see quite clearly on her face, the inner battle between answering how he would want versus how the subject of his enquiry would wish to be portrayed to her son. With some insight, he again considered how things had changed knowing that whilst once this hesitation would have made him mad, his overriding feeling now was gratitude that his adopted mom, for once in her life, had someone who was firmly in her corner.
Emma paused, clearly choosing her words as carefully as she could.
"She seems better than earlier. But you know your mom, she hates admitting that she's not fine."
The last part of the sentence was finished with a fairly crappy imitation of his mom, but Emma was clearly wiped out, so he let it go – for now.
"Is she still sick? I thought she had a migraine and they usually go after she sleeps enough." Henry knew he sounded worried but didn't care.
Emma appeared to be thinking as she spoke, her brow creasing in thought.
"I don't know, Hen. She's been sleeping since yesterday, but she still looks tired. I'm pretty sure she still has a headache. She can't stop shivering and she threw up in her office and again last night." She smiled at him. "Which was as gross, and not like your mom, as it sounds, so I'm pretty sure she'll kill me if she knows I've repeated it, ok?"
Henry grinned for a moment before unwittingly mirroring Emma's concentrated expression.
"Some kids at school are out with flu. But mom never gets sick." He paused. "I know with the curse she wouldn't, but ever since it broke, I've never seen her get really sick. Even when she has a migraine, she tries to hide it."
Emma sighed, again clearly debating her next words.
Drawing himself up to stand as tall as he could, Henry raised an eyebrow, coolly staring down his parent. Seemingly getting the message, he could see Emma appraising him, the emotion in her expression almost making him want to turn away in embarrassment, but he made himself stay.
"Look, kid. I know you're not exactly a kid anymore. Geez, after some of the stuff we've been through it's a wonder you're not catatonic or something. But you know if I can't tell you something, it's not because I don't trust you, or I don't think you can handle it. Your mom hasn't had many people in her life she can trust. You know the whole story now. And I know that I've done things, without meaning to, that have hurt Regina and made her feel like she can't trust me. I also don't need to tell you how much your mom loves you and wants to protect you, even when you don't think you need it. But sometimes your mom might just need to not be so self-sufficient all the time and have someone to prop her up for a bit when she needs it. And she needs to be able to do that without you worrying about her."
Henry nodded, mutely, idly wondering when exactly it was that his moms turned into such a forceful parenting unit, or more pointedly when Emma went from being his fairy-tale long-lost mom to actual real-life, guilt inducing mom.
"And we both know your mom has had a pretty shitty time of it lately." She paused, cringing slightly at the language that slipped out, causing Henry to grin at the flash of the Emma that he first knew.
"But anyway, sometimes when people are tired, or sad, things that wouldn't normally bother them can make them get sick more easily. So, whether your mom wants to tell us that she's not feeling good, or not, we're both gonna make sure that she gets some rest and we don't give her a hard time about it, you hear?"
Henry found himself nodding solemnly. Just as he was about to finally reply, Emma looked at him tiredly. "And no more code names, ok. I don't think my brain can handle remembering my own name right now."
Henry smirked. "I didn't want to say anything, but you do look like crap."
"Shut up."
The rebuke was both half-hearted and childish and made Henry feel giddily like his ten-year-old self.
"Emma, I'm pretty sure it's not good parenting to tell me to shut up."
His biological parent grinned challengingly. "Well, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't dare have said to your mom what you just said to me."
Henry shrugged, his smirk growing. "Well it's true. You do look like crap."
He flinched dramatically as a snapping dish towel glanced his upper arm. "Ow, my shoulder."
Watching as Emma, clearly suffering from her evident lack of sleep, struggled to form her usual snappy retort, he found his attention distracted by a slow movement at the corner of his vision.
"Well, you deserved it. And for your information I managed a whole four hours sleep before you came home. And ok so it might have been in a chair but need I remind you that I have spent many an extremely comfortable night in my bug over the years, and am therefore completely refreshed, you little…."
"Mom!"
Turning quickly, Henry felt his initial relief at seeing his mother dampen as he took in her pale complexion and crappy attempt to hide the fact that the only thing keeping her upright was an uncomfortable looking death grip on the kitchen doorframe. Letting her hollow attempt to reassure him that she was fine wash over his head, he threw a brief but pointed look at Emma who he noticed was already on the case lowering her weirdly carefully onto a stool. Taking note of her warning glare, Henry feigned a sudden fascination with the salad leaves in front of him as Emma hovered anxiously over his mom.
His attention was re-focused as Regina's voice rang out across the kitchen.
"Henry. Please don't say you allowed Miss Swan to prepare food. We've spoken about this and I believe my instructions on this matter were very clear."
Fighting his first instinct to call her out on her obvious subterfuge, Henry felt an unbidden wave of empathy for the woman who still insisted on protecting him even when it was kind of pointless. Instead he sighed, smirking at Emma before smiling at his mom.
"Don't worry, mom. We both know who's the responsible adult here. The chicken is from Granny's and I made the salad. I'm not an idiot."
Aware that Emma was now staring at him with a weird and kinda uncomfortable expression that she always had when he did something good or unexpected, he ducked his head awkwardly.
"Are we eating in the dining room?"
Grabbing the plates of the counter ready to move, Henry turned clumsily to see that Emma's smile had now morphed into her familiar grin as his mom acquiesced oddly quickly to the request that they eat right there in the kitchen. Weirder still was the way his mom seemed to relax as Emma's hand reached for her back and stayed there.
-/-
Having long since devoured his unsatisfyingly healthy dinner, Henry shuffled uncomfortably in his seat exchanging yet another pointed look with his biological parent. A strange little game had been going on for a good five minutes whereby Emma would stare anxiously in the direction of his mom before catching his eye for a moment and making a show of slowly eating another mouthful of the salad left on her plate. His mom, for her part, although he was sure she had noticed Emma's less than subtle glances, made worryingly little effort to comment and was instead staring intently but kind of blankly into the almost full plate of food that she was pushing around in front of her. Knowing a stalemate when he saw one, Henry cleared his throat with the hope that his not so subtle gesture would catch the attention of at least one of his moms.
"So, um, movie night, anyone?"
At his comment, his biological mom, lifted her head in his direction, smiling a little too gratefully, he thought, than the suggestion of a movie probably warranted.
"Sure, Hen. That's a great idea. Why don't you go and set it up and we'll be right behind you."
More relieved to be making his exit than he probably should be, Henry slipped off his stool, pausing only to see that Emma was already beside his mom once again, a hand resting carefully on her back.
-/-
Doing his best to follow Emma's request, Henry fought the urge to turn his attention from the TV as he heard the murmur of voices behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, if he tilted his head at just the right angle, he could see the blonde gesturing something to his mom who he could hear slowly lowering herself into a seated position. Seconds later there was the less gentle sound of what he knew was Emma joining his mom on the sofa.
"What're we watching, kid?"
Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Henry was slightly alarmed to realise that his mom looked worse than she had during dinner. Her face was oddly pale, and she seemed to be staring at something in the distance. His rising anxiety was not being helped by the worried looks Emma was casting in her direction, thankfully not realising they were being observed.
Giving up the pretence of disinterest, the teenager pushed himself into a seated position, giving his biological mom a pointed stare.
Finally tearing her eyes away from his mom, Emma returned his expression. Sensing a stand-off, Henry was about to give up and lay back down when the attention of both mother and son was distracted by the suddenly obvious shivering from Regina.
Watching as Emma's expression went from surprised, to alarmed, to a warning glare reminiscent of his adopted mom in the space of about three seconds, Henry sighed and pointedly turned his attention back to the screen in front of him. Behind him he could hear restless shifting on the sofa until he heard the tell-tale creak of someone almost quietly rising to their feet. Unable to contain himself any longer, the teenager watched openly as Emma cast another pensive look at his mom before striding purposefully out of the room. For a moment he wondered whether he should take Emma's place on the sofa as he had the unnerving feeling that his mom was gonna pass out or something, but instead she lifted her head flashing him a too bright smile, the fake kind that still sent a hot flash of shame through him when he thought about what his ten-year old self would have thought of it. Instead he heard Emma's parental voice in his head reminding him that his mom at least needed to think she could still protect him from the crap that seemed to happen on a far too regular basis, and he felt himself smiling back and reluctantly turning once again to whatever the hell they were meant to be watching on the TV.
The bright glare of a detergent commercial caught Henry's attention and for a minute he wasn't sure just how long he'd zoned out for. A quick check over his shoulder revealed his mom still pale and shivering behind him as the dimming of the lights and a slight stumble from the doorway alerted him to the fact that Emma was back in the room. The glass of water in her hand tilted dangerously as she reached out nudging him unnecessarily with her foot.
"Hey, kid. Turn the volume down a bit, ok? We haven't all had as much sleep as your mom and some of us are gonna need a nap here."
Looking up just long enough to note that Emma was for some reason now wearing one of his hoodies, he sighed slowly before pointedly turning his attention back to the TV. There was a brief pause in movement before Henry heard the unmistakeable sound of pills being swallowed, followed by a shuffling at which point he could no longer contain his curiosity. Glancing over his shoulder, Henry watched intently as Emma, now back in her regulation tank top, pulled his hoodie carefully over his mom's head, easing her arms into it as if dressing a little kid, before gently helping her back into the fluffy robe that she normally reserved only for the most brutal days of Maine winter, and only then when she was sure there would be no unexpected visitors. Instead of the resistance he expected, his mom simply accepted the assistance, along with her new position leaning securely against Emma's left shoulder.
As yet another set of commercials kicked in, Henry twisted his head round at the sound of movement once again behind him. Torn somewhere between concern and amusement he watched as Emma, with her free arm gestured theatrically toward the armchair in the corner of the room. Briefly raising an eyebrow, he smirked before hauling himself to his feet and grabbing the throw blanket folded neatly over its back. His expression shifted back to worry as he followed Emma's gaze to his mom who, despite the layers of clothing, continued to shiver against her side. Shaking the blanket out, he handed one edge quietly to Emma before wrapping the fleecy material gently around his mom' shoulders. His mom's lack of response to this action only served to increase his unease, as did the undisguised worry on Emma's face as she grabbed the cushion beside her, placing it on her lap before gently adjusting their position until his mom's head rested comfortably upon it. Again, feeling witness to something more private between his two parents, Henry turned his attention once more to the TV.
Marking the time in his head, Henry figured that ten minutes was pretty good going when it came to containing his curiosity. Pulling himself to his knees, he shuffled closer to the sofa, his movements becoming more careful as he took in the closed eyes and slow steady breathing of his always in-control mom sleeping peacefully in his birth mom's lap. As he caught Emma's eye, she shrugged slightly before her attention focused once more on his mom.
Feeling the need to do something, Henry quietly took hold of the corner of the blanket hanging down from the sofa tucking it back around the sleeping women. At the movement, Regina mumbled slightly which was quickly followed by a reassuring shushing noise from Emma.
Biting back a grin, he shifted his focus to his birth mom, wondering idly if she even realised that the fingers of one hand were threaded through his mom's hair, whilst the other rubbed soothingly up and down her back, the way his mom had done for him when he'd been sick as a kid. He figured that if she did, she seemed pretty comfortable with it, and either way it was kind of weird to mention it. Instead he swallowed slightly before whispering.
"Is she ok?"
At the question, Emma lifted her head giving him what he had come to consider her "mom smile", before whispering back.
"She will be kid." Her hand continued it steady motion across his mom's back. "She just needs some rest."
Henry nodded solemnly. "Can I do anything?"
Emma's smile softened further before her gaze was once again drawn to Regina. "Just keep watching out for her like you do, kid."
-/-
Having long since retreated to the arm chair with a dog eared copy of Lord of the Flies, the subject of which he was pretty sure his English teacher had either little clue about, or a wicked sense of humour, when adding it to the assigned reading list, Henry looked up at the slightly harried tone of his birth mom.
"Hey, Hen." She looked around the room slightly frantically. "Any chance you can grab me that trash can?"
Glancing over, Henry was met by the sight of Emma, with a degree of urgency pushing his now semi-awake mom into an upright position, although clearly still leaning heavily against her. His mom swallowed convulsively a couple of times, her face almost green, which was all it took to spur him into action. Suddenly grateful for the obsessive housekeeping rituals, he grabbed the empty container, shoving it roughly in front of his mom who thankfully grabbed it from him as he backed quickly away grimacing.
His nose crinkling, he half watched as Emma, still weirdly comfortable with the entire situation murmured something quietly in his mom's ear whilst somehow managing to both hold her steady and stop her puking in her own hair.
When it finally seemed safe to do so, Henry looked back up as Emma carefully pried the trash can from his mom's grip, screwing her face up slightly, as she carefully placed it out of view. Catching his eye, she nodded in the direction of the door, and staircase before adjusting her grip on his mom who was now slumped against her.
His scepticism showing, Henry quirked an eyebrow. "Upstairs?"
His mom seemed to share his own doubts as she struggled against Emma's pretty impressive effort at forcing them both into a standing position.
Briefly turning her attention away from his mom, Emma had just enough time to throw a scowl in his direction before her focus switched back to the other woman who was attempting with some force to escape the hold she was in and reclaim her place on the couch.
Henry watched closely as the glare on her face vanished, overtaken by an expression he could only describe as gentle.
"Sshh. You're ok, Regina. We just need to get you back to bed ok. Then you can get some rest."
Prepared for a contest, with a degree of amusement, Henry braced himself for the force that was his mom, even when she clearly had flu worse than his chemistry teacher who had nearly passed out on his own Bunsen burner earlier that week. Instead he was unable to hide his disbelief as his stubborn, independent mom instead seemed to relax, shifting backward to let Emma more easily bear her weight, her right hand settling absently over the one Emma had pressed securely around her middle.
Somewhat lost in thought, Henry followed the pair, as Emma steered his mom carefully through the door into the foyer and to the bottom of the stairs. His wandering mind was brought to an abrupt halt as his chin very nearly came into contact with the back of a blonde head. Dodging to the side he looked quizzically at Emma who was staring upwards with a strange look of trepidation.
"Some help would be good here, kid."
-/-
It was at times like these Henry wished that Emma had taken her magic lessons with his mom a little more seriously. Sure, she could break curses, slay dragons and even move solar systems if the situation called for it. Yet for some reason, at all other times when magical ability would actually be useful, his biological mom either refused to use it, or more likely in this instance, seemed to completely forget that she even could.
With a look of worry that he was unable to hide, Henry glanced back to the step below him where Emma was exerting a significant amount of effort in half lifting, half pushing as she propelled them both up the staircase. With the time and energy this process seemed to be taking, Henry was itching to point out that with a wave of a hand, or blink of an eye, or whatever it was that her own particular brand of magic responded to, Emma could have sent the pair to their destination in seconds. However, the look of concern on her face, as despite her own obvious discomfort, she maintained a steady flow of gentle reassurance for his unsteady, exhausted looking mom, had him biting his tongue.
Once he was confident that Emma had the stair situation under control, Henry took the opportunity to forge ahead, ducking into his mom's room. At the very least he could pull back the sheets making that part of the job easier for Emma, and besides his mom, when she was feeling better would feel bad enough that she had let Emma take care of her, and he wasn't sure he could withstand the guilt that he too had been a key witness to what his mom would no doubt see as such an open display of weakness. Job done he stuck his head out of the door to see the truly odd sight of his moms hugging in the hallway. Emma seemed reluctant to let go, and only when Henry cleared his throat, did she release her grip and steer his mom into the room. Not wanting to hang around, he let Emma half shove him out into the hallway with reassurances that his mom would be fine, loitering only long enough to watch her practically tuck his mom into bed before perching next to her. Shaking his head in disbelief, he headed to the sanctuary of his room.
-/-
Figuring he should quit playing video games and be the semi-responsible teen expected of him, Henry went in search of Emma to tell her he was heading to bed, and also to check on his mom. Guessing that would be one and the same, he quietly pushed open the door to his mom's room to find the windows thrown open, a frantic Emma and his mom propped upright, shivering, her bathrobe and hoodie discarded, clearly by his other mom, possibly in some kind of struggle, and launched across the room.
When Emma looked up, her expression was one of pure relief.
"Kid. Thank god. Can you go find something I can use to bring your mom's temperature down?"
As he turned to leave, he heard the familiar scrambling of Emma retrieving her cell from her jeans pocket, followed by desperate tapping on the screen. Once more shaking his head, he closed the door to the panicked tone of Emma's voice speaking urgently into the phone.
"Mom. I need your help…"
Wednesday
Yawning loudly, Henry pulled on his backpack, staring pointedly at Emma through the open door of Regina's bedroom as he slouched past. Whilst he accepted that his mom having flu was not an acceptable reason to skip school, he had felt sure that being kept awake for large parts of the night by his other mom, worrying about his mom having flu, was more than a valid justification to at least miss first period algebra. But apparently, according to Emma, who he guessed was really not one to talk, it wasn't, so to school he was headed.
Feeling slightly guilty, he hovered for a moment, watching as Emma, who was now back in her position perched protectively next to his mom, smoothed a hand over her hair as she shuffled and mumbled. With the motion, his mom seemed to settle, as Emma sighed quietly, the back of her hand drifting down his mom's face. Sensing an idea forming in his brain, he quietly slipped down the stairs and out of the front door.
Still deep in thought, he jumped, as he looked up at the gate only to come face to face with his grams. Despite the early hour, Snow smiled brightly. In one hand she had a bag of what looked like Emma's clothes, and in the other balanced several tupperware containers of an oddly coloured soup like substance.
Nodding at him to grab the gate, she bumbled through, still grinning.
"How's your mom doing?"
Henry fixed her with an expression that even he knew formed a strong argument for nurture over nature.
"Which one?"
Snow's smile shifted to one, which Henry could barely recall seeing in person. However, it did look familiar from the outlaw chapters of a certain picture book.
"Emma seems really committed to looking after Regina."
Henry nodded, evenly. His face impassive, or at least he hoped so. "They're really close, I guess."
"It seems so." Her eyes watched Henry closely.
Shifting back to her best Mary Margaret disposition, his grandmother bustled past him, shifting the weight of the containers as she let herself in.
"Everyone needs a good friend, right?" Looking over she shoulder she smiled cheerfully as he closed the gate behind him. "Have a great day at school, Henry. And don't worry about your moms. They'll both be just fine."
-/-
Once again in the sanctity of his own bedroom, Henry had barely had time to locate the controller for his Xbox, stashed for some reason between his history book and a two-day old sock, before there was a knock on the door. He groaned inwardly at the interruption, cursing his habitual need to finish his homework before taking up any distractions. Both endeavours had today, however, been interrupted when he returned home to find that his mom was no better than earlier, and following a brief visit to her room, during which she had been barely awake and guarded heavily by an almost possessive Emma, he had been sent without fanfare to Granny's in search of what Emma deemed 'proper food'.
Upon his return he had rushed through a geography paper, which couldn't seem to make its mind up as to whether students should learn more about the states of the US or the kingdoms of Fairy Tale Land, only to then be greeted by his grandmother hovering outside his bedroom door.
Peering inside as he beckoned her in, he saw her eyes glance briefly between the scribbled homework and the now located console, offering nothing more than a knowing smile. Henry once again felt grateful that whilst Snow seemed to like to play mother to half of the town without any consideration as to whether this was wanted or needed, she somehow had the wisdom to avoid any real parenting clashes with either Regina or Emma.
"What's up, grams? How's mom?"
At the question, the smirk that he had witnessed that morning made a reappearance for a second before again vanishing behind the familiar smile.
"I'm sure she'll be feeling much better in a couple of days, don't worry, Henry." There was a flicker in her eyes once again. "I'm sure Emma will continue to take really good care of her." The expression was gone again. "Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye before I head home for the night." She nodded almost conspiratorially in the direction of Regina's bedroom. "I'm sure your moms have had enough of me hanging around, so I thought I'd give them some alone time." She shook her head, as if checking herself. "Anyway, good night, Henry."
As the door closed behind her, Henry couldn't help the eye roll that followed. He was starting to think that maybe he needed to have a talk with…. someone.
Thursday
Hastily shoving what he hoped was his math homework into his bag, Henry resolutely pushed open his bedroom door and headed toward the clattering sound drifting up from the kitchen. Having allowed the idea to percolate overnight, his inquisitive synapses were firing, and images from the last few years had without warning snapped together in a jigsaw, forming a picture that suddenly seemed so obvious he had actually laughed out loud.
Whilst he was pretty sure, from the evidence available, that his grandmother had formed the same conclusion, a fact he fully intended to verify, what he was not so certain of was whether either of his mom's had yet to realise what now seemed so clear. And with one suspect out of bounds, at least for a day or two, Henry had a clear target in his sights.
"Morning, mom."
If his overly bright tone was a warning, Emma took no heed as pushed her empty coffee mug onto the kitchen counter, perilously close to the edge, and turned wearily toward him.
"Hey, kid."
Noting her jeans, jacket and anxious expression, he concentrated on keeping his face and voice casual, whilst seeking out eye contact.
"Going to work?"
Emma paused for a moment before nodding. Her eyes narrowed slightly at her son's tone, and for a moment Henry doubted the success of his ambush, until his mom's gaze darted to her cell phone on the table between them which was beginning to buzz. Snatching it up, she quickly silenced it, her gaze flickering subconsciously to the stairs behind him.
Realising her distraction, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry, it's time for your mom to take some more pills."
Henry nodded understandingly; his concern genuine. "Is she any better?"
"Pretty much the same as yesterday, kid." His mom sighed, before smiling. "But don't worry, Hen. She'll be back to her normal kick-ass self before you know it."
Shaking off his worry to get back on task, Henry caught Emma's eye, attempting to frame his features and tone into neutrality.
"You really care a lot about mom, don't you?"
With a twinge of regret, Henry watched Emma's expression morph in rapid succession from confusion to hurt before finally resting on an emotion that Henry was not sure he'd ever seen there but couldn't quite read.
"Of-course I care about Regina."
There was a waver to her voice that Henry didn't like, and the spark of guilt began to flicker. Taking a step forward, he lowered his head for a moment before again meeting his mom's eyes.
"I just mean, the way you're looking out for her…"
His mom swallowed. Turning back to the coffee mug on the side, she placed it with a surprising gentleness into the sink. But, not before the early light beginning to shine through the window next to her danced across eyes that had started to glisten with moisture.
However, before Henry could abort his mission completely, Emma turned back to him, the determination in her face comfortingly familiar.
"We look out for each other, kid." Her tone was earnest, and Henry's guilt sparked into a flame. "It's what Regina and I do."
Before Henry could respond, the back door jiggled before swinging forcefully open and a harried Snow White spilled into the kitchen.
"Sorry, I'm late, Emma." She smiled widely upon seeing her grandson. "Good morning, Henry."
The earlier moment, to Henry's immense relief, seemingly broken, Emma sighed once again.
"No problem. Thanks for coming over again." Grabbing a towel from the side, she dried the now clean mug with a degree of force. "I wasn't gonna go in today until dad called last night." At Snow's slightly puzzled expression, she continued. "He just kept rambling about not having time to get his paperwork done." Emma looked confused for a second. "And nursery rhymes." She shrugged, mindlessly placing the mug back in its rightful cupboard. "Anyway, he sounded kinda mad, so I should probably get moving."
Henry noticed the sudden flash of culpability on his grandmother's face, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, Snow smiled brightly.
"So, how is the patient this morning?"
Emma cringed slightly at the question, but either his grams didn't notice, or didn't much care.
"She didn't sleep great." Emma yawned widely. "So, she didn't give me much sleep either."
Henry chose this moment to look up, unintentionally meeting his grandmother's eye. At the smirk that glinted behind it, he quickly looked away, wondering hazily whether his mom had a potion to hand which would delete that specific memory, as Snow raised an eyebrow in her daughter's direction.
"It sounds like you've been taking really good care of her." Snow's smile grew sweeter still. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."
Henry readjusted the backpack on his shoulders looking longingly at the back door.
His mom looked away uncomfortably. "I'd do the same for anyone." Her eyes shifted around the kitchen avoiding the watchful gaze of his grandmother. "Anyway, I've got some sheriff-ing to do, so I'm looking forward to getting out of this house for a few hours."
The response would have been more convincing if his mom's attention didn't flick every few seconds in the direction of the open door to the foyer and the stairs to the bedrooms above.
Snow nodded, making an empathetic mumble of agreement, but Henry could see the smirk beneath that she was still struggling to contain.
"Of course, sweetheart." Turning her back toward her daughter, she placed her bag on the kitchen table and began casually emptying a few items. "Now, why don't you go check on Regina before you head off. Just in case."
Watching his mom, practically sprint from the kitchen up the stairs, Henry grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and made his move toward the door. However, before he could slip through, he was halted by a piercing voice from behind.
"Henry."
He turned to see his grandmother observing him shrewdly. If any residual Mary Margaret Blanchard was lurking beneath the exterior, she was well-hidden.
"So, your moms seem to be getting on well, huh?"
Henry nodded mutely, eyeing her cautiously.
Snow smiled again; her gaze pinned to him. "They really are so close these days, aren't they?"
Henry shrugged cautiously, meeting her stare. "They are."
"They care a lot for each other." She tilted her head, and Henry fought the urge to take a step back. "Everyone should be as lucky to have a true friend like that, shouldn't they?" Snow was watching him closely, her smile unwavering.
Henry allowed himself a breath before levelling Snow with his own casual smirk. "Maybe one day, they'll realise how lucky they are."
As he finally made it to the door, his grandmother nodded; seemingly satisfied by his response.
"Well, you have a good day at school, Henry."
Turning away, Snow's attention went back to the contents of her purse now strewn across the table, as Henry made his escape.
-/-
The house was once again quiet as Henry entered the foyer. Having made an impromptu, but prudent detour to Granny's on the way home, only to save his moms from having to feed him of course, it was now over an hour later than his usual return, and the fact he had yet to receive a single panicked text to rule out any potential kidnapping or portal incident was telling in itself. Shoving his backpack on the kitchen table, he headed up the stairs, attempting to ignore the niggling apprehension as to what was awaiting him. He had taken some relief in the observation that his grandparent's truck was nowhere to be seen and the only car on the street outside was Emma's bug.
As he rounded the corner, he could hear faint murmurings coming from his mom's room. Shaking off his relief at noting the open door, he headed toward the source of the sound. Peering apprehensively into the room, he choked back a burst of laughter at the sight before him. His mom was buried under what looked like a dozen blankets. Despite the cocoon, he was relieved to see that she was at least partly awake. However, what consciousness she had was clearly focussed on the blonde figure perched protectively next to her on the bed. Henry watched as his mom's hand managed to somehow against the odds escape from its fluffy prison, reaching absently for the fingers that continued to tuck the bedding gently around her. In response, Emma smiled, taking his mom's hand and continuing to speak softly, words that Henry could not make out, but were clearly having the desired effect as Regina's eyes drifted closed.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Henry slipped past, idly wondering at what point in the evening anyone would notice he was home.
Friday
Unlike the previous morning when his curiosity had been well and truly piqued by the behaviour of his moms, as Henry emerged from his bedroom ready to face the final school day slog of the week, he was pretty confident what he was going to find.
Expertly dodging the one creaky floorboard that no amount of magic seemed capable of fixing, he again peered into his mom's room. Though the door was ajar, the light from the hallway made only a dent into the early morning dark. However, the image before him was clear. Sprawled on her back, one arm hanging loosely off the bed, was a softly snoring Emma, a vision with which Henry was all too well-versed from their days cramped in his grandparents' loft. Yet the sight which drew his attention was that of his other mom curled tightly against her, dark hair splayed across her shoulder and an arm curved over her. His gaze travelled to Emma's other arm which was tucked carefully beneath his mom's back holding her close, as if it was the most natural position in the world.
Feeling the sudden need to help them shut the world out for a little longer, he gently pulled the door closed, before heading to school with a feeling of balance that he couldn't quite explain.
-/-
The image of the waving figure of Snow White, grinning manically from her truck, that greeted Henry outside the school gate as the final bell rang was, he pondered, the opposite of balance. However, it did, he figured, mean a ride home, so he'd just have to deal with it.
Sliding into the front beside his grandmother, he eyed her cautiously, mentally preparing for another round of not so cryptic discussion about his moms. However, as she turned the ignition and pulled out in the direction of Mifflin Street, Snow was suspiciously quiet. Unable to take it any longer, Henry turned with the intention of quizzing his grams over her shifting personality, to be halted by the realisation that she looked genuinely lost in thought. Moving instead to fiddle with the old radio dial, he settled on a station playing some kind of weird country music that he knew his grams liked, before leaning his head against the window watching the familiar streets pass slowly by.
What with Storybrook being barely larger than postage stamp, it was only a couple of minutes later that they pulled up outside his house. As Snow put the truck in park, Henry shifted to open the door but was stopped by a cautious hand on his arm. Turning to look back at his grandmother, he was genuinely surprised by the pensive look on her face.
"Is everything ok?" Henry couldn't help the worry that crept into his voice.
Snow smiled, and the expression was, for once, genuinely reassuring. "Of course, Henry."
She hesitated for a moment before looking Henry up and down, as she seemed to reach a decision. When she spoke again her tone was serious but sincere.
"Don't give them a hard time, ok?"
At his lack of response, her face softened. "Your moms, they…" She paused, pensive for a moment. "When you've never truly experienced something…" She stopped again, as if considering her words, "it can be hard to recognise it when it's right in front of you." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "And I know you're old enough to appreciate the irony of this coming from me, but it's not your story to tell, ok?"
Before Henry could form a response, her smile brightened and she pushed open the door, hopping lightly out of the truck and heading toward his house without looking back.
His brain still catching up with his body, Henry stumbled out of the vehicle reaching the front door just as Snow was letting herself in. Wondering briefly when it became normal that his grandmother had her own key to his mom's house, the distraction was enough for him to be brought to an abrupt halt by the open door of the living room. As he opened his mouth to object to the interruption, he looked up to see Snow raising a finger to her lips and pointing not to subtly in the direction of the room.
Peering past her, he couldn't stop the grin that spread at the sight of his moms dozing on the sofa, his mom's head resting in Emma's lap as the TV played quietly in the background.
Forcing himself not to stare, he turned back to face his grandmother, the earlier seriousness from the car seemingly forgotten as a flash of mirth sparkled in her eyes. Shrugging slightly, she reached out taking his shoulder, steering him gently back in the direction of the kitchen as she turned for a moment, closing the living room door gently behind her.
/End of part one