As the mist washed over them, Emma instinctively gathered her son into her arms, trying to shield him from whatever was coming.

The smoke cleared and she tentatively opened her eyes, half-expecting to find herself standing in a forest.

But, no, they were still in the hospital, everything exactly as it had been before.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," she said.

"Magic," Mother Superior whispered reverently. "That was magic. It's back."

"So that's it then?" Emma asked. "Curse is broken, and now you can go home?"

Mother Superior shook her head. "I think if that were the case, we would already be home. And none of us can fix it, to my knowledge. Regina, maybe. Rumplestiltskin, possibly. I doubt either of them are going to say anything."

"Well, what about … Henry, what do you think you're doing?" Emma asked, sufficiently distracted by the sight of her son heading for the doors.

"We have to go find Grandma and Grandpa!"

Emma's heart stuttered in her chest. She had completely forgotten the other implications of the curse breaking, and pushed it from her mind for the time being. "I don't think so. Back into bed."

"But …" Henry began.

"You were dead not even ten minutes ago," Emma said.

"I wasn't dead," Henry said. "I was cursed."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Yes, well, you were born in this realm, and I grew up with medicine and not magic, so I want you to stay here until we know there aren't going to be any side effects."

"I will agree with that assessment," Dr Whale added.

Emma gave him a grateful smile. "Come on, kiddo."

Henry sighed. "But Grandma and Grandpa …"

"… are probably on their way," Emma said, squeezing his shoulder. "Mary Margaret knows what happened. Back into bed."

Henry finally relented, allowing her to shepherd him back to the hospital bed and tuck him in, smoothing his hair back from his face. "Thanks Mom."

Emma's heart skipped once more. Despite all of his faith that Regina was the Evil Queen, he had always called Emma by her given name.

Until now.

She couldn't help bending to drop another kiss on his forehead. "You're welcome, kiddo. Now," she straightened, and turned back to Mother Superior. "Sorry, who are you? I mean …" she sighed. "Sorry, that was rude. Before the curse, what was your name?"

"I am the Blue Fairy, Your Highness," she answered, inclining her head respectfully.

"I'm not …" Emma trailed off. "Except I am. Aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so," the fairy-turned-nun said with a smile. "Your mother just called me Blue, which you're welcome to do as well."

"Thank you," Emma said. "And I've got a bone to pick with you, about how I got sent through with a seven-year-old instead of my mother."

Blue winced. "Yes, I'm sure your parents aren't going to be happy."

"I'm not either," Emma muttered. "Back to the situation at hand - you said you can't send us back to the … to where you came from?"

"The Enchanted Forest," Blue said, shaking her head. "The fairies can't. Even with magic, we have no fairy dust here and no wands - without those, we're stuck."

"Is any of it in Gold's shop?" Emma asked.

"Possibly," Blue said. "He won't hand it over without a deal, and it's best not to attempt it."

One of the nurses came rushing in, stopping in front of Emma with a hasty curtsey. "Your Highness - your parents are here."

"Any chance I can get people to call me Emma?" Emma asked.

"Very unlikely, Your Highness," Whale said.

Emma sighed. "How about Sheriff Swan?"

He offered her a smile. "That, you might have better luck with."

"Can you please keep Henry here?" Emma asked. "I have a discussion I need to have."

"Not a problem, Your …" Dr Whale paused. "Sheriff."

"Thanks," Emma said, hurrying out of the room.

She met Mary Margaret and David - her parents - halfway to the front lobby, and she skidded to a halt, her eyes meeting her roommate's.

If Dr Whale and the Blue Fairy had changed after the curse, Emma hadn't noticed, probably because she had only spoken to them in passing.

But Mary Margaret was her best friend, the first person Emma had trusted since she was eighteen and far more naive than she had any right to be.

This wasn't Mary Margaret.

Snow White held herself with a quiet confidence that Mary Margaret had never managed, her hand gripping David's and her eyes filled with tears.

"So," Emma said after a few moments of silence. "I guess I really do have your chin."

Mary Margaret - because she was still Mary Margaret in Emma's head, even if she clearly wasn't - took a shaky step forwards, reaching to cup Emma's face in her hands.

When she was a child, and still hoping that one day her parents would return from whatever disaster she'd dreamed up had taken them away that month, she imagined her mother running to her, grabbing her in a hug and never letting go.

It was an odd vision, since Emma had never been big on physical affection - it was difficult to develop an affinity for something she'd never really had - Henry had been her exception.

But Mary Margaret knew Emma in a way Snow White didn't, and so she waited, a clear question in her eyes.

Is this okay?

Emma gave a tiny nod, and her mother slowly wrapped her arms around her. "You found us."

Her voice broke and something inside Emma reacted, automatically moving to grip the back of her mother's jacket.

David was staring at her like she'd just performed some kind of miracle - which she supposed she had.

She also remembered that the last conversation she'd had with him had been a sharp-tongued exchange in which she told him off for breaking Mary Margaret's heart - and threatened to do something very painful to a certain part of his anatomy if he hurt her again.

Her lips quirked in a tiny smile and something must have settled in him, reassured him, because then he was reaching out as well, one hand resting on the back of her head.

For a few while - who knew how long - none of them moved. She could feel Mary Margaret's tears against her cheek, David's unsteady breaths against her hair, and it occurred to her that she should feel uncomfortable, she should be pulling away because get a grip, Emma, it won't last - it never lasts - but all she could muster was safe.

Then Mary Margaret's arms tightened for a second, before she released her. "Henry?"

"He's fine," Emma said with a weak smile. "They're keeping him for observation for a bit." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry I made you wait an extra eight months."

"It was a lot to take in," Mary Margaret said immediately. "And it's not like I believed it."

"But Henry wasn't the only person …" Emma trailed off, a jolt of horror and shame piercing through her gut.

It must have echoed on her face as well, because her father reached out for her again, his hand hovering inches from her arm. "Emma? What's wrong?"

"August," Emma breathed. "He … I have to go!"

Somehow, she was unsurprised when the two of them followed her, easily keeping pace.

"What happened to Regina?" Mary Margaret asked.

"She left." Emma dodged the crowd that swarmed her as they exited, grateful when David's voice rose above the voices - no longer the voice of an animal shelter volunteer, but that of a prince, one that was immediately obeyed.

"Let her through!"

Emma threw a thanks over her shoulder and broke into a sprint in the direction of Granny's. The door was open but the front desk unmanned, presumably because Ruby and Granny had left to find their friends, but that didn't matter - Emma knew where she was going.

The door to room six was still off its hinges from where she had kicked it in earlier, and she burst in, praying that she would find the room empty - or at least August sitting up and smiling at her.

But she was not to be that lucky twice.

August was lying where she had left him, just as wooden - and just as still.

"August?" Emma whispered, crossing the room.

Mary Margaret sucked in a breath from behind her. "Pinocchio?!"

He didn't respond to either of them.

"You need to be okay," Emma murmured, dropping to her knees beside the bed. "You need to. I … I fixed it. You said I could fix it."

Any minute now, he was going to smile at her, tell her it was all some big joke - and she'd tell him off, but that would be okay, because she'd rather have a living best friend made of wood than a dead one.

But still, he didn't move.

A hand landed on her shoulder. "Emma …"

Emma shook her head. "I … I can't …"

"Then don't," Mary Margaret said softly. "Forget I'm your mother for a moment. Tell Mary Margaret. Your friend."

Emma closed her eyes, taking comfort in the warmth of the hand on her shoulder, even as her own hand gripped August's cold wooden one. "He was the only other person not under the curse. He tried to get me to believe and I thought … I thought he was just trying to overcompensate."

"Overcompensate for what?" Mary Margaret asked.

"He was the boy that found me," Emma said, almost monotonously. Now it was over, it seemed laughable that she had ever not believed him. "I thought he'd got it into his head that he should have done more for me, even though he couldn't have done. And he'd made up this story in his head to make himself feel better. I didn't believe him, but I figured he was harmless. But he was trying so hard because he was turning to wood, because he was supposed to help me, and I wouldn't let him." She choked back a sob. "And I had to leave him here, because I had to go and save Henry, but I was hoping …"

"I don't understand," Mary Margaret said softly. "How did he even get here? The wardrobe only took one person. That's why we sent you through alone."

Emma swiped at her face, catching the tear that escaped. "No, it took two."

"We were told it only took one," David said from the doorway.

"Then you were lied to," Emma said simply. "His father told August it was his duty to look after me. And he couldn't because he was only a child, but the magic … I don't understand it."

"I'm so sorry, Emma," Mary Margaret whispered. "I wish they'd told us … I would have taken him through, if I could."

"Absolutely," David agreed. "Or we could have figured something else out."

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. "We should find his father."

"You won't …" Emma trailed off, unsure what she was worried about.

"I think this is punishment enough," Mary Margaret said.

Emma nodded, her eyes fixed on his face. "He was supposed to be okay. I broke the curse. He was supposed to be okay."

"Would you like a moment?"

Emma swallowed hard and nodded again. "Yes please."

There was a brief pause, then lips pressed against the top of her head in a soft kiss. A few seconds later, the door closed behind them.

The first sob forced its way out of her throat, and she almost doubled over with the effort of keeping quiet. "August, I am so sorry … I wish I'd trusted my gut - I knew you weren't lying, I should have trusted you weren't mad, and now you're gone and … and I don't know if I can do this without you. I've spent my whole life alone and now I have my parents, and they're younger than me, and I spent all that time hating them because I thought they didn't want me and they did and … and I'm a mother now, and I know I was before, but Henry wasn't really mine and now he is, and I don't know how to be a mother - I know how to be the cool birth mom who sneaks him out for ice cream, not the mother that makes him do his homework and go to bed on time and …" A laugh bubbled its way through her sobs, choking her. "And now I know how they must feel."

Sniffling, Emma heaved a sigh, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand as though he could still feel her. "I'm just … I'm so sorry."

She rose to her feet, her gaze falling on his eyes, still wide open, painted in place.

Their relationship had been one of friendship, mistrust, flirtation, and two lives entwined far more than she had realised - or been willing to believe.

So many times their words had died away, leaving them with a heavy tension between them, one that would ever be fully resolved one way, and yet neither of them had taken that path - Emma, because she was terrible at letting people in, and August …

Who knew why he didn't.

The way he looked at her … It certainly wasn't because he didn't want her.

In fact, given what she now knew to be true, Emma was fairly sure August had been courting her since he arrived (because if anyone 'courted' anymore, it was going to be fairytale characters).

Lightning surely couldn't strike twice in one day.

Of course - she glanced over her shoulder - the door was closed.

And she might not know her mother, but she knew Mary Margaret well enough to know that 'giving her some space' meant 'waiting downstairs'.

She had nothing to lose.

And everything to gain.

Slowly, hesitantly, she bent over him, the same way she had with Henry earlier that day.

"I love you," she breathed into the vanishing space between them.

Her lips pressed against his, cold, wooden and unyielding beneath her.

But he didn't move.

Of course he didn't.

She was half-responsible this - her and her stubborn, untrusting heart - it was ludicrous to think that she could, in any way, make this better.

She wasn't even sure if she was in love with him.

With a heavy sigh, she turned away. At least she could tell his father, when they found him, that she had done everything she could think of.

"Emma …"

Emma froze for a second, before spinning around to see that August's head was now turned towards her. "August?"

Slowly, wood was turning to flesh, spreading across his face and down his body, until to blink, then smile, then finally sit up.

When he made to stand, she rushed back to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him there, unable to help squeezing down to feel muscle, hard but pliant under her touch.

"Hang on - you were a puppet just now."

"And now I'm not," he said with a lopsided grin. "Now I'm a real boy."

Emma couldn't help it. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, feeling his pulse beat against her forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have believed you."

"Yeah, I'll be cashing that one in for a while," August said, rubbing her back gently. "Is Henry …?"

"He's fine," Emma murmured, nuzzling against his neck, then kissing there for good measure. "I should have believed you."

His hands gently coaxed her out of his embrace, sitting her up so he could see her face. "I understand why you didn't. If I'd just stayed with you …"

"You were a little kid," Emma whispered. "It's not your fault."

"Then it's not yours," August said firmly. "Now I wasn't exactly aware of what was going on; is there any chance I'm human again because you confessed your undying love for me?"

Emma flushed. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Holy …" August stared at her, the humour dying from his eyes. "Did you … Did we …?"

"I kissed you," Emma admitted, avoiding his gaze. "I wasn't sure it was going to work, but I figured … Well, it couldn't hurt."

"Emma …"

"We should …" Emma began, but whatever she was going to say was promptly forgotten when he cupped the back of her head and drew her to him for a second kiss, this time with warm lips moving against hers with a tenderness that nearly made her cry.

"I love you," he whispered as they parted. "God, Emma, I've loved you for so long, I just thought …"

"Easy," Emma said with a smile, catching his hands as they threatened to slip under her shirt. "We need to get you to a hospital. Plus my parents are downstairs."

"I don't need a …" August cut himself off. "You broke the curse?"

Emma nodded. "I did. I woke Henry up and now everyone remembers."

August grinned at her. "Three in one day. Not too shabby, Your Highness."

Emma rolled her eyes, standing up again. "Come on. I know it was magic, but I'd feel better if you saw a doctor. And please don't call me that."

"As you wish, Princess."

Emma sighed. "Really?"

"Does it bother you?" August asked.

"Yes, it …" Emma hesitated. "Are you calling me that because you're trying to get under my skin, or because you think there's some kind of social hierarchy that you need to adhere to?"

"A bit of both," August admitted, his hands settling on her waist. "There is one, Emma. Whether you like it or not, you're a princess, and I'm a woodworker's son. Back home …"

"Yeah, well, we're not back home," Emma said flatly. "I just woke you up with true love's kiss; I think we can safely been on first name terms."

"Can I still call you Princess?" August asked, dipping his head to brush a kiss to her lips.

He was going to be one for physical affection, she could tell, and now she'd made it clear it was allowed, he was going to take full advantage of that.

She found she didn't mind it all that much.

"If you must," Emma said with barely-veiled affection. "Now come on. You need a doctor, I need my son, and there's probably about three hundred people that want a piece of me first."