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~ a child's mistake ~

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Emma swore that there was something wrong with the quick way that Storybrooke's weather could change. Just the previous night everything had been peaceful. A calm summer's evening with the soothing touch of warmth that had Emma and Mary Margaret laughing over a bowl of ice cream as they watched sitcoms on the old television that David had insisted on lending her when she first moved in, and now, Emma was hunkered down in her car as Henry trembled in a raincoat beside her. He seemed more anxious than usual and kept patting his collarbone with his eyes snapping from one side of the car to the other as though something, or someone, was chasing him. Emma followed his every glance and, seeing nothing, her heart squeezed at the way his actions didn't make sense.

There was only one part of Storybrooke that made Emma terrified and that part, that little secret, was so far out to sea that it was more of a tourist attraction than anything else. Although, Emma supposed, there was something about the storm that brought that part of Storybrooke to the forefront of Emma's mind, but, then again, she always felt that way when a storm brew on Storybrooke's shores.

Although not normally a superstitious person, Emma swore that, with every wave, every sudden gust of wind, every cold touch of a raindrop on her skin, the ship that haunted Storybrooke's shores was watching her. Them. The entire little town that was Storybrooke.

It was though it was cursing them, waiting for something to happen, a danger that forever lay dormant.

Restless.

Emma could feel its caress, its impatience, and she was honestly more than a little freaked out by the thought of what it could be waiting for. Or who. Not that that was something that Henry had to be particularly worried about.

Turning to her kid with a frown, Emma put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. "You okay, kid?"

Henry licked his lips and gave a quick, firm nod of his head. "Yeah," he laughed, a dark, haunted little sound that made Emma's stomach twist, "I'm fine." He turned to Emma and seeming to debate something with himself, but, with a shake of his head, he seemed to decide against it.

Emma, knowing not to push too much, gave him what she hoped was a bright and loving smile as she turned to start her car. "So," she began, "are you excited to spend the night at Grace's?"

Henry seemed to consider how to respond for a few seconds, looking at Emma out of the corner of his eye, but, with a small little smile, a much brighter one than his previous attempts, he answered. "Yeah."

Emma turned the ignition and put her car into drive, slowly inching her way into the road. "I'm glad," she said, keeping the worry from her voice, as they drove into Storybrooke's main road. "Jefferson has been calling me for the last week to tell me about everything Grace has planned for her birthday and, just this morning, he assured me that the storm won't even bother you guys."

"Really?"

"Mh'mm," Emma hummed. "Grace planned everything for months and she can't wait to hang with you guys."

"T-t-that's good."

Emma watched Henry curl in on himself from the corner of her eye and allowing the false excitement to disappear from her tone, she began, "Unless," she paused, "you don't want to go?"

Henry glanced up at that and, vehemently shaking his head, Emma watched him hide the fear completely; a happy and jovial tone entering his voice as a bright expression was put over his features like a mask. "Oh, no, mom, that's not it!" Henry assured. "I can't wait to see Grace. Really."

"Yeah?"

Henry nodded his head and hummed in contentment. "Yup," he said, laughing, "Grace has been sending me messages telling me how excited she's been for months!" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, swiping across the screen a few times, he held up an Instagram Direct Messaging trail that was full of memes and dancing GIFs. "See!"

Emma gave a small smile, and, turning her indicator on, she let her bug roll into the forested area where Jefferson's house was located. "So," she quirked her eyebrow, "you're excited?"

"Yeah!"

Emma hummed in reply. "Excited enough," she began, "to tell me where exactly you snuck out to last night?" She watched as the blood drained from Henry's face and tapped her nails on the steering wheel in front of her.

She knew it.

As much as Emma had hoped that Henry would tell her out of his own volition, as much as she hoped that therapy with Archie was helping the kid open to her, she was saddened by the dread that came over his expression with her own awareness of his actions.

On the one hand, she was happy that the move to Storybrooke allowed Henry to burst out of his shell and experience things other kids used to do in Boston during their summer's vacations (that did not involve cordoning off their rooms to play video games with Avery the whole day), but, on the other hand, Emma wasn't exactly happy to see her eleven-year-old sneak out in the middle of the night. She had spent hours waiting for him and, when he came in, dripping wet and slipping all over Emma's floors, she had quietly snuck behind him as he went to his room to grab a fresh set of clothes. She had stopped herself from speaking up when he slunk to the bathroom and she hadn't said a word when he came out, fresh pajamas on, and went directly to his bed. Emma had even thought about staying quiet about it because Henry was a kid and kids did kid-things, but, when she had entered the bathroom and found his clothes smelling like salty seawater that was already half-dried, Emma had felt her heart stop.

What if he had drowned?

What if something happened to him and Emma didn't know because he left his phone behind and, yeah, sure, Emma was the Deputy. But Storybrooke was a small town and, like Graham always said, it was so outdated that, if something serious happened, there wouldn't be enough cameras or night owls hanging about to build a definite trail of where someone thought honestly freaked the hell out of Emma and, as much as she wanted to give him freedom, Emma was still Henry's mother and she worried about him. Not worrying, she supposed, was something that she just wouldn't be able to do.

Ever.

Henry swallowed and looked at Emma from the corner of his eye. "You knew?"

"Yup."

"Are you mad?"

"Not yet," Emma admitted. "But I would still like to know where you were."

"Peter and Felix…"

Uh-oh. Peter Gold and Felix Smith. Those two teenage assholes who, instead of hanging out with kids their own age, spent their time terrorizing the younger kids and getting them involved with bets that no kid should partake in, were the bane of Emma (and the Sheriff Department's) existence. If there were ever two names Emma dreaded hearing, it was Peter and Felix. Even Regina, who had much better things to do as the Mayor, had told Emma and Graham to keep an eye on them because she didn't want them near Roland and would find justifiable cause to have them sent straight to juvie should they even look at Roland in the wrong way. Emma might finally understand what Regina meant in the moment that her son said their names.

"What the hell, Henry?" Emma pulled her car off to the side of the road and turned to Henry with a frown. "I told you not to get involved with them!"

Henry, giving a small nod, acquiesced. "I know, Mom, and I didn't want to get involved with them, honest, but they kept pushing Nicholas around and, when Ava tried to get them to leave them alone, they started pushing her around too! They kept saying that, unless they grew up, they wouldn't leave them alone!"

Emma leaned back in her chair and chewed her bottom lip. "Do they bully the Zimmer children a lot?"

"Yeah," Henry gave his rushed answer, "and, well, I couldn't just stand back anymore! I had to do something!"

"And what did you do, Henry?"

Henry pushed out his chest and pouted. "I pushed Felix and told him to mess with someone his own size and leave us alone because I was going to call my Mom and you'd arrest them."

"They didn't like that, did they?"

Henry sighed and shook his head, his sad little face making Emma's heart ache because goddammit, she was going to kill Peter and Felix if it was the last thing she did. Even if that meant working with Regina. Emma would not hold back. Not when her kid was being bullied by those two assholes.

"No," Henry admitted, "they didn't. They called me a baby and when they told me to prove it, I, well, that's what I did last night. I proved it and they said that they'd never call me a baby again."

"Oh," Emma quirked a brow, "and why is that?"

Henry swallowed. "Can I tell you tomorrow, Mom? Please?"

Emma should say no. She should insist that he tell her everything and spill the beans, but, as always, Emma's heart won out and she needed to go see Regina and Graham besides. It was time for those in power to step up and scare Peter and Felix straight.

(Or throw them in juvie like Regina insisted, but, either way, Emma needed them to learn that actions had consequences and their actions were about to get the worst type of consequences that Emma could dish up.)

"Yeah, kid," Emma sighed. "You can tell me tomorrow when I come to pick you up."

"Thanks, Mom."

Smiling at Henry, Emma again started her car and this time, she drove all the way to Jefferson's house. When she got there, Grace was talking to Ava and Nicholas on the front porch as the rain continued to splash down around them. Even Liam Jones and Gideon Gold, who were accompanied by Violet Page and Leo Nolan, seemed to be waiting for Henry and, as soon as they saw Emma's yellow bug roll to a stop, they all let out a whoop of excitement that had Emma's heart feeling light. This, she thought, was exactly what Henry needed.

The kind of friends and comradeship that Emma had always longed for in her own youth.

Emma smiled at Henry and, unlocking her car's doors, she nodded towards where his friends were waiting, and made to step out herself. "Why don't you go say hi to everyone?" Emma suggested as Jefferson, and Robyn Locksley with Roland Locksley at her side, stepped out of the house with cookies and treats balanced on three trays that helped set off Jefferson's flower print apron. "I'll bring up your bag."

"Thanks, Mom!"

And, with a quick hug, Emma watched Henry step out of her car and run up to his friends with laughter rounding his cheeks.

Emma let the lightness of his step fill her heart and, climbing out of the car, she scurried to open the front boot of her car, and took out Henry's bags. Wiping the rain from her eyes, she bounded behind him and deposited the whole pile at Jefferson's feet as Henry, and his friends, all slipped inside.

Jefferson gave Emma a warm smile and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a sigh. "How quickly do you think I'm going to die from exhaustion tonight?"

Emma laughed in response and shook her head. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"If you believe that," Jefferson sighed, "you haven't spent nearly enough time with a bunch of nine to eleven-year-olds."

"Mary Margaret seems to survive it."

"Mary Margaret," Jefferson breathed, "is a saint and judging us by her standards is really just unfair."

Emma patted Jefferson's shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure you'll survive," she insisted before indicating the bags by their feet. "Do you need me to carry these up, or-"

"No," Jefferson waved her off with a smile, "that's alright. You probably need to get back to work and I don't want you to go in there and see the craziness that I'll have to deal with today. You might just feel sorry enough to come help me and we can't have that. What will everyone think of me? Stealing the deputy from doing her job when it was her shift? Nah, I can't have that."

"You're right," Emma hummed, stepping back under the rain with a wave, "we definitely can't have that. See you tomorrow, Jeff!"

Jefferson stuck out his tongue and shook his head as Emma ran away, playfully calling out, "Cold-hearted bitch!"

Emma waved in response and leapt back into her car, slamming her door shut behind her, even as she turned to see a chained necklace on the seat that Henry had just vacated.

Frowning at the object, Emma bent down to pick it up and dangle it in front of her face with a frown. The necklace, which was hanging from a long silver chain, had a skeleton, a ring, and a sword or cross of some kind attached to it and Emma swore she had never seen it in her life. Hell, she thought, bringing the object closer to her face, she swore that the thing looked old. Old enough, Emma supposed, to be an antique of some sort.

Turning back to where Jefferson was just closing the door behind him, Emma sighed and tugged the necklace over her head, shaking out her hair as she looked in her rearview mirror.

Her heart stopped right there, jumping right into her throat, as her eyes met those of a drenched man in the back seat with eyes of the deepest blue Emma has ever seen as a feeling of bitter cold filled her heart.

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A/N: See you guys in a week's time for the next update.