Chapter 16

"I'm just worried he's going to do something stupid," Emma sighs, laying her head on Killian's shoulder. The two of them lay on the couch, waiting for any sort of movement from within Henry's room.

"He won't, he's a smart Lad," is his response, he gently strokes her blonde hair out of her face. "Moving is certainly not easy. I should know, I came from halfway around the world."

"I can't imagine how you must've felt at five years old, let alone fifteen."

"It is hard," the docks man admits.

"But it's not even official yet, we've just been talking about it and I've only seen like three houses," she protests.

"Unfortunately, he didn't want to hear that part."

"I wanted to give him some choice, he feels that he doesn't have control anymore and he hates the changes."

"Including me?"

Emma sighs and looks up into his deep blue eyes. "He doesn't…"

"It's all right Swan, I understand where he's coming from. I'm not his father and never will be. I can't fill that void, no matter how hard I try."

"But you've been so good with him, you're not trying to replace Neal and you treat him as more of a friend than a son."

"I could see him as my son, but I doubt he'll ever accept me that way."

"But you two have been through a lot together, he shouldn't hate you."

"Teenagers are as much as mystery as women. One day they love you, the next they hate," he smirks.

Emma wipes a few tears from her eyes and lifts herself up to kiss Killian.

"It's getting late, perhaps we should turn in?" he suggests.

"What about Henry?"

"I think a good night sleep is what we all need. Hopefully, everything will feel different in the morning."

"I hope so," she swallows.

The two get ready for bed and the entire time she's brushing her teeth, Emma keeps staring at her son's door. She wants nothing more than to throw it open and take her son into her arms. He's been her light, her pride, and joy of her life. One of the few good things she had in her life. She felt so nervous when she was pregnant with him and he ended up being the sweetest and most loving little boy. The smiles and freckles made her melt and still brings tears to her eyes. The times the two of them drew at the kitchen table or hunted for grasshoppers in the park made her heart swell. Most of those aspects were gone and she was basically living with a stranger. It was so frustrating and she was living with her own problems that obviously affected Henry as well. She wishes she could wave a magic wand and fix everything for him.

As she turns off the bathroom light, she pauses at his bedroom door. She wants to go in, but that might incite more fighting. Instead, her hand hovers at the door. She gently knocks.

"Goodnight Henry," she says in a gentle voice. "I will always love you."

A few tears slide from her eyes as she waits, hoping he'd come out to hug her. Instead, it's silent on the other end. She sighs heavily and then turns away, towards her own bedroom and the warm embrace of her boyfriend.

…

Meanwhile, Henry is shoving what he could into the green duffle bag. Clothes, toiletries, money, his electronics, anything he could sell for extra cash, a few books, some photos, anything he thinks he might need for his journey ahead. He wasn't sure where he was going to go yet, but away from here seemed reasonable enough. He digs through his closet and he finds an old worn book. He takes it out and sees the fading title of Once Upon a Time on the cover. Some lump forms in his throat. It was his book of fairy tales, the one that had him obsessed with the concept for much of his childhood. He remembers insisting on having both his parents help re-enact the tales with bath towels as capes and wooden spoons as swords. He recalls asking for the same stories to be told every night before he went to bed and doodles of the various characters would show up in all his notebooks.

Henry cannot understand why he loved them so much. They weren't real and they did not reflect life. The hero's father never left him behind, his mother was never kidnapped, came back deeply troubled and with another hero on the way. The mother also never tried to move to another kingdom like now. The hero was never truly alone and had friends, human or otherwise and he always got a happy ending. None of this was true to life and he cannot believe that he used to believe in such fables. It was honestly embarrassing now.

He wants to toss it aside, but he hesitates. His hand shakes from holding the thick book. At the last minute, he shoves it into his bag.

Once he's all packed, he slips into a heavy shirt and a sweater, knowing that it will be cold. He thinks about bringing his school books but decides against it. If he was going to move schools anyway, what was the point of keeping them?

He stands ready to go, his head practically spinning. The voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him to stop it, that running away isn't the answer, but he argues to his conscience that this was the only way to escape it all. Everything was just too hard now and he needed to get away. He takes a long look at his room, many more memories come to the surface. It didn't matter if he was running away, he was going to be leaving it anyway. He shuts the light off so he doesn't have to look at it any longer and prevent the tears from coming. He sits and listens at his door, waiting for the sounds of his mother and her boyfriend going to bed. His heart jumps when she knocks on the door. He's worried he might get caught, but she just says goodnight, sounding very sad in the process. The voice begs him to reconsider, but he ignores it.

He waits patiently for a long period of time, hoping that the two would be asleep soon. Once they are, he'll sneak down the hall to get his coat and boots and leave as quietly as he can.

When he thinks enough time has passed, he opens his door as quietly as he can. He holds his breath it makes a low creak. He stops and waits for any sounds from his mom's room. When nothing happens, he gets the entrance open just wide enough for him to slip through with his bag. He walks on the balls of his feet, trying to make no sound at all.

He breathes through his nose and keeps the bag clutched in his arms.

One… two… he counts in his head, thinking of how many steps it will take to make it to the front door.

Five… six…seven

Creak!

Henry nearly gasps as his foot touches a squeaky part of the floor. It's just outside his mom's room. He stops, shuts his eyes, and holds his breath. He listens carefully. Emma rolls over in her sleep and lets out a groan and Killian's soft breathing can be heard. Henry counts in his head, waiting to see if they wake up.

When they don't, he continues avoiding the squeaky part again.

Soon he reaches the living room and then the front hall of the apartment. He fumbles around, trying to find his coat in the dark. He's worried that this might make enough noise to wake up his mom. He pulls his boots and coat on and then slowly opens the door. He takes one last look at the apartment, even though it was dark and then shuts the door. His heart is pounding in his chest, his mind reeling from what he's doing, but at this point, he shouldn't care… no one else seemed to.

…

Henry walks along the snowy sidewalk, under various streetlights which cast dark shadows everywhere. The occasional car drives by, most shop windows are dark, but some restaurants and drug store signs glow neon colours indicating that they were open late. His feet crunch the snow and he keeps his bag over his shoulder. It seemed to become heavier and heavier with each step. He passes a few people, keeping his head down and acting as natural as possible. He didn't want to look like a runaway and draw suspicion to himself. The last thing he needed was someone calling the police, more specifically David.

He navigates the city, one street at a time, putting considerable distance between himself and what was once his home. He finally reaches a bus station, the place that could take him out of Boston and someplace else entirely. Maybe he could go to New York, or Denver, Colorado, the possibilities were endless. He looks at the prices for the tickets, he had enough for one and examined each destination. However, the place is closed for the night, they wouldn't open until nine a.m. the next morning. This would at least give him time to decide on where to go.

Henry shivers in the cold and sits on a nearby bench in a bus shelter outside of the station. He checks his phone. It was almost one o'clock in the morning. He had a long time to wait. He then shuts his phone off, hoping that when he turned it on and everyone was inevitably looking for him, he'd be long gone. He shoves his hands in his pocket and tries to use his duffle bag as a pillow.

…

Henry awakens to the sound of gun cocking at him. His heartbeat hits overdrive as he stares down the barrel of a gun. He swallows heavily. He cannot see who is threatening him. It's still dark outside and the streetlight keeps his attacker's face in shadows.

"Get up," it hisses angrily. The voice is gruff and seems to wheeze a lot as if he had been smoking all his life.

The teen is petrified in fear, unable to move a muscle. His mind races for a way to escape, but he saw none. The figure was much taller than him and very muscular, the scrawny teen could not fight him. He thought he could run, but he doubted he could outrun a gun. Maybe he could scream out, but his voice was gone. Tears were forming in his eyes and his legs felt like stone.

"Are you deaf? Get up!" it barks louder.

With great reluctance, he stands up, his arms by his sides.

"Get in the car," the shadowed figure orders. It then points the gun at a rundown looking vehicle that was idling on the street.

"What do you want with me?" Henry squeaks out.

"Get in the car," the voice repeats.

The teen slowly walks towards the old car. He pauses at the door. Henry prays that someone would find him and call for help.

"Open the god damned door," the stranger swears at him.

The boy's hand goes for the handle.

"HENRY!" a voice screams out. Both individuals turn to see a blonde woman running up the street after him. The boy's heart soared.

"MOM!" he calls out.

Emma is rushing up the street, trying to get to her son, to save him. The baby was weighing her down, but her first baby needed her. She has no weapon, but she will fight tooth and nail to save him.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion. The shadowed figure grabs the door handle, opens the back door, and shoves the teenager inside. It slams it shut, locks it, and turns the gun towards the pregnant woman running up the street.

"LET HIM GO!" she screams. She stops a few feet from the car, trying to avoid the gun.

"I can't get that baby in you right now, so I'll settle for the other one," the figure taunts. There is a very hoarse laugh and Emma realizes who it is.

Her entire body kicks into adrenaline mode, and she charges at the evil man. The man who wanted her son. One shot rings out, but she keeps going. She plows into the monster and begins trying to wrestle the gun away, her self-defense training kicking again. She should be concerned about her baby, but her son needed her more at this moment. Her heart was racing at an impossible rate and her fists harden as she tries to kill the man who was doing this. Her son's screams are coming from inside the vehicle, his fists pounding the window. They become rhythmic, just like her heart beats. The two struggle in the snow, Emma could feel his hot breath on her skin, the same breath that touched her vulnerable body during their rape sessions. She keeps fighting, but he won't give up that easily either.

Both are yelling obscenities at one another, rolling the snow, but neither will give up. Finally, the man manages to pin her down long enough to point the gun at her forehead. He gives her a dreaded grin, his yellow teeth reflecting the streetlight.

"As long as I take something that matters to you, it doesn't matter what else happens. Hope you get to raise that baby in heaven."

A shot rings out.