Present

Emma blew out a breath as she caught sight of the wooden playground. It did look like a castle, she decided. The bones of one, at least. When the school teacher had said to check it, this wasn't exactly what she expected. The beach and the yard was barren, save the little boy atop it.

Lonely, she'd said. The pang hit her once more. He wasn't supposed to be alone, not like her.

She climbed up the stairs that seemed strangely solid beneath her. It was well-made, at the very least. And she could only imagine what a kid that believed in fairytales would think of a playground castle.

She slid up behind him and sat next to him in the tower. She took the book she'd been holding and held it out to him without preamble. "You left this in my car."

He pressed his lips together, eyes trained beyond the area. He took the book, but made no attempt to look at it or at her.

She looked in the direction, and saw the clock tower. Its hands were in the same place, unchanged. Carefully, she pressed, "still hasn't moved, huh?"

He looked disappointed, his eyes squinting. "I was hoping that when I brought you back, things would change here. That the final battle would begin."

She sighed. "I'm not fighting any battles, kid." Just the internal ones. Like why she wanted to stay so much when she knew it would only lead to bad.

Henry turned to her, determination in his posture. "Yes, you are. Because it's your destiny. You're going to bring back the happy endings."

Emma felt something flicker inside her, something like anger. Couldn't he see? She wasn't nearly that important. "Can you cut it with the book crap?"

He shrugged, and turned to her with a smile. "You don't have to be hostile. I know you like me – I can tell."

Her heart squeezed. There it was again; that smile. It shouldn't be familiar, because she couldn't put a name on the face that she recognized in it. But that didn't matter – she did like this kid. Already. Too much.

"You're just pushing me away because I make you feel guilty."

Yes. Yes, looking at him made her feel guilty. Not in the way he probably means, but guilt would be a word to describe the feeling in her gut. She had always thought giving him up would be best. She had believed it so hard. She was supposed to have been giving him the good life when she had signed on the dotted line. Why was it that she couldn't see any sign of that in his eyes?

"It's okay," he continued, giving a small sure nod. His face was far more serious than any ten-year-old's should be. "I know why you gave me away."

She stared at him, watched as the dark in his green eyes cleared away. The kid knew?

He smiled. "You wanted to give me my best chance."

Oh, Jesus. She blinked a few times, and looked away. Her heart was heavy, and she didn't answer until she was sure her voice wouldn't shake. At least, not completely. "How do you know that?"

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, how he began to fidget. His own voice was strained. "Because it's the same reason Snow White gave you away."

She felt the ire rise within her. "Listen to me, kid." She finally turned to him again. "I'm not in any book. I'm a real person. And I'm no savior."

God, couldn't he see she was a mess? She had trouble holding onto her own life. A survivor, that she might be willing to name herself. A savior made no sense. She hadn't even been able to save him from the life she'd had, not really, not if he truly was as lonely as everyone seemed to say.

"You were right about one thing, though. I wanted you to have your best chance." She took a deep breath, mutinous tears itching at the back of her throat. "But it's not with me."

His face crumpled, but he was trying so hard not to show it. Tears collected beneath her lashes as she watched his own stir in his matching eyes.

She swallowed thickly and pushed off the structure. She was five steps away before she could address him. "Come on, let's go."

"Please don't take me back there. Just stay with me for one week. That's all I ask. One week, and you'll see I'm not crazy."

She turned back to him, her whole body resigned. "I have to get you back to your mom." I have to leave.

He shook his head, and she can see the frustration on his face. "You don't know what it's like with her. My life sucks!"

She nearly vibrated in aggravation; couldn't he see? Couldn't he see that all this was better? Better than her? "Oh, you want to know what sucking is? Being left abandoned on the side of a freeway. My parents didn't even bother to drop me off at a hospital. I ended up in the foster system and I had a family until I was three, but then they had their own so then they sent me back."

She sniffed, and tried to regain her composure. She was sure she wasn't successful, but she tried to smile at the boy as she leaned down to his height. "Look, your mom is trying her best. I know it's hard and I know sometimes you think she doesn't love you, but at least she wants you."

I wanted you, a little voice inside reminded her. She remembered that feeling, so stamped down with every turn she made in the prison, but she remembered that feeling. She had wanted him.

And she needed to get away and get him back to his mom before that feeling came back.

He shook his head, little fists balled at his side stubbornly. He looked so angry, even with the tears staining his face. Oh, it was just like … just like— "Your parents didn't leave you on the side of a freeway. That's just where you came through."

"What?" she asked, confusion splitting her.

"The wardrobe," he said firmly. "When you went through the wardrobe you appeared in the street. Your parents were trying to save you from the curse."

She smiled tightly, her body shaking. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't fight. She just wasn't sure she could keep up with it. "Sure they were. Come on, Henry."

His tears were silent, and she could tell he was trying to summon the courage to fight them back. Her heart twisted, and she brushed her own cheeks as they set forward. He reached over and grabbed her hand, and she carefully curled her fingers inward.

This kid. What was she going to do about this kid?

She couldn't even be surprised to see the sheriff's car in the parking lot.

She watched as Henry froze as the car door slammed. Fear struck the depths of her at its sight. But it was just the man, not the mayor, and Henry took off into a run toward him.

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling empty and so very alone as the kid hit the sheriff's embrace.

She shivered and tried to pretend it was because of the cold.

11 Years Ago

She woke in the middle of the night, shivering.

She came to consciousness with some irritation. The night before, she had been perfectly content, even warm. She'd always been able to sleep anywhere, and even in the unfamiliar and unsettling world she'd been just fine.

Now it was as if the temperature had dropped thirty degrees in as many minutes. Her teeth chattered and she curled inward. Ideas of sleep flew out of her grasp as she focused on how uncomfortable it was.

She blinked fully awake and rolled to her back, trying to bury into herself.

It was still dark out, but the moon was full and bright. She sucked in a short breath. It was casting such strong light that it was a wonder to see. Pale yellow-gold, larger than any moon she'd seen before. Despite the cold, she peeled back the furs covering her in order to lean up, marveling at the glow.

It was different. It wasn't like back in Portland, or in Bangor, or in Baltimore, or in Minneapolis. That glow … something about it called to her. A wave of something flowing through her veins, tingling out through her fingers. It reminded her of something in that weird book she'd been reading, something about the energy. She could almost access it, she's sure, if she just put her mind to it ….

A rustle sounded to her right, and she whiplashed to it. She relaxed to see the wolf, its tongue lolling out to see her before it darted into the bushes again. She relaxed as she rubbed her hands over her arms. It was strange how comforting the animal's presence was, how sure she was that it would keep them safe.

Them. That reminded her.

She leaned back onto her makeshift bed and propped her head up on her hand. She looked down over at him. In the moonlight, it was clear enough to make out her companion's sleeping face.

He was on his side, facing her. He was so much softer in dreams, his face relaxed and harder edges smoothing. He looked boyish, closer to the youth than the adult like this, like she must've when she was asleep. His jaw was slack, chest rising and falling rhythmically. His curly hair was mussed, falling across his forehead in soft tendrils. His lashes were longer than she first thought, thick against his high cheekbones. His lips were a warm pink, parted slightly.

Her stomach clenched, realizing that her earlier realization wasn't quite correct. He wasn't attractive.

He was … he was beautiful.

Not in the way she'd been conditioned to believe, not from movies or shows or the posters the other girls would hang on their walls back in the foster homes. He was raw and natural, like the clearing in the center of the forest that had taken her breath away. There was more of a wildness to him that those old portrayals didn't allow for, and an innocence despite it all that curled something in her belly.

With strangely tense fingers, she used the hand not supporting her head to flit through a curl on his forehead. He shifted slightly, stirring, and she quickly buried herself in the furs again. She watched aptly, but he didn't wake.

She let out a shuddering breath, and finally leaned back. She stared at the moon again, and used her hands to cover her abdomen. Butterflies had begun within its depth, and she couldn't stop them, as much as she wanted to.

This was too real. It didn't feel like a dream anymore.

Her back ached from sleeping on the ground, and it was a different pain than from before. She had scratches from the branches she'd walked though, and they had added to themselves with that dull hiss and faded to nothingness. She'd had to wander off to relieve herself, and had eaten a considerable amount of foods with unusual flavor profiles. She'd read a book with words she was unfamiliar with, ideas she'd never thought of before. She was tired, and she had slept the night before and had been sleeping just now. Now, she felt awake and with new emotions bubbling in her stomach and increasing at a rapid rate.

Her mind wasn't this creative. This had to be her reality.

She tried to pinpoint exactly when she had made that conclusion, when the last of her denials flew to the wayside. She didn't know exactly. All she knew was that it had to do with him.

She shivered again, harder this time.

"You're cold."

She startled and turned to him again. His eyes were still closed, and she was sure she dreamed it. Still, she whispered to be sure, "What?"

His lip quivered, but she couldn't really say that he smiled. "You're cold. Come," he said, and pulled his covering to tent up with his arm. "Share with me."

She sucked in a breath and blushed furiously. "I really don't think—"

"We're near the water, and it gets icy in the morning. I'm used to it, but if you need to share body heat …."

She stiffened and tried to ignore the flush that overtook her body. "Wolf boy, I don't know."

He sighed and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Your choice. I'm just giving you the option."

She hesitated, then finally scooted closer. He took her wordless answer in stride, and welcomed her into the fold of the blanket.

Every move was chaste, something he must've done with the wolf before. But her body tremored, and she couldn't help the spread of heat as he held her. She swallowed when he tucked her close, bodies lining up carefully. Being warm enough was no longer a concern.

"I'm glad you've chosen not to freeze." His voice was gruff with drowsiness in her ear, accent rumbly against her back as he actually joked with her.

She nodded, and tried not to think of how right it felt to lay with him like this. She moved her hands to cover his across the bottom of her ribs, skin sliding against skin until the butterflies hummed into something lower in her stomach.

"You okay?"

She nodded again, not trusting her voice. She struggled against the reaction her mind was telling her to be, trying to force herself tense in order to block from any attachment. She needed sleep, and this was fine. It was fine.

If it happened to be that she liked being this close to him, that was nothing.

"We can go to town tomorrow."

She nodded and pushed back into him. "Okay."

"Did you find your realm in the book?"

She hesitated. His thumb had moved with his words, moving the fabric of her shirt along her stomach. "I don't know," she replied.

She liked books. They had always provided an escape for her, and she usually chose fantasy above all else. The book he'd given her was more clinical, scientific in nature while talking about magic and creatures and different lands. It reminded her just a bit of the Harry Potter novels, but it was so different at the same time. But there had been mention, barely a blurb, about a land without magic.

If this was real, that's where she'd be from, right?

"I'll help in the morning. Let's just sleep for now."

She nodded. She didn't really feel like sleep was close anymore, not when she was trying not to make sense of the feelings swirling in her. He was so close; he smelled like pine and fire, and his presence was at once soothing and igniting.

This was dangerous. She didn't know how to deal with this.

He was silent, and with great effort she was, too. They settled into each other, bodies merging into one being.

Eventually, the steady rhythm of his heart soothed her, and her eyelids drooped heavily. She felt curiously safe, so much more than she should feel.

If this place and vision was real … if she allowed herself to believe it like she thought she had … he was the reason she felt right with it.

Had she been more awake, the thought might have scared her. As it was, she settled against him and slowly she let herself drift without a care.

Before she surrendered, she had one final thought. She felt like part of her clicked in his embrace, like some pit inside her finally sealed.

She felt like she belonged.