CHAPTER 5 – Emma – Left

"I'm thinking about going to New York," I told my parents an hour later, while Regina was upstairs doing… interior designer stuff.

"Emma, I think Regina will be able to look after herself, there's no need for that," dad reasoned, careful not to be heard from our guest.

"That's not the only reason I'm going," I whispered back. "I was just at the library: Belle and I did some research, and apparently there's a man in New York – a man who can use magic even in a Land that doesn't have any. August told me about him as well, once, although he was in Honk Kong at the time. They call him Dragon."

"And you think he might know a way to bring back Regina's memories?"

"I sure hope so."

Our murmured conversation was interrupted as the woman in question walked down the stairs.

"Alright," she told mom, holding a clipboard in her right hand and a measuring tape in the other, "I've got everything measured out; I'll design a few diagrams in New York and I will be back in two days' time to show you."

"Thank you for your help, Miss Mills," mom replied, an actress following a script, and shook her former enemy's hand.

"I'll get back to New York with you," I informed Regina. "I have a few things I need to get done there. But this time, please, let's go by plane!"

Mom and dad drove us to the nearest airport, and less than a few hours later Regina and I were already in a cab, inevitablystuck in New York's everlasting traffic.

The journey had been pleasant; we talked a lot, she fought with a few flight assistants and we arranged for having a night in. She also offered me her couch to stay for the night, but I didn't want to be any trouble, and she didn't insist. I supposed she was probably torn: maybe she thought that, if I stayed, she wouldn't have a nervous breakdown, but she still didn't want to risk being seen like that – and I completely understood. I decided to just stay at Neal's old flat, which wasn't very far away from her own, so that I could go there if she needed me.

It took a while for us to get to the Upper East Side, but eventually we managed to glide through the crowd of cars and leave our baggage at her place. I was going to bring mine to Neal's after we had had dinner.

"I don't know how long I'll be, but I'll text you when I'm done and I'll come pick you up," I told her as she drove us to her agency's establishment.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Miss Swan?" she asked, surprisingly concerned, as we got off her car. "You haven't been in New York for a long time…"

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I reassured her. "I know my way around this city. I'll be back soon."

I walked out of the parking lot as she headed to the entrance of the building. I knew Manhattan like the back of my hand; it wasn't long until I had arrived to a herbal shop in Soho and went in.

It was a very small and anonymous space, packed with shelving and booths of jars full of mysterious-looking plants and vegetables. Along the ceiling were a quantity of traditional Chinese lanterns, banners I couldn't read and fuzzy garlands. However, there was clearly no one there.

"Hello?" I said loudly.

A salt-and-pepper bearded man suddenly appeared behind me, seemingly out of nowhere, his footsteps making me jump in surprise.

I was about to introduce myself, but he talked first, suggesting that there was no need for a presentation.

"What could the Savior possibly want from a humble herbalist like myself?" he asked in a soft voice, his accent matching his oriental features.

"I suppose you're the man that goes by the name of Dragon," I said, my tone detached and professional. I wanted him to know immediately that I wasn't there to play around.

He nodded once, apparently unfazed by my voice.

"And I think you already know why I'm here."

"You have come to me in hopes of finding a way to wake your friend from the curse she has cast on herself," he replied, calm. "However, I am afraid I cannot help you. This is something you need to figure out on your own."

"But I don't know how, and I might not have enough time to figure it out!" I exclaimed, panicked. I really did think this Dragon would have a solution for Regina's problem.

"Time is nothing but an idea. You've changed it once already, you can do it again."

I sighed, saddened. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to tell me anything actually useful, I decided to just give up the cause; I could manage to help Regina by myself.

"Thank you for your time," I said with a simper, and headed to the front door.

"Remember," he told me before I was gone, "sometimes, what is right in front of your eyes is the hardest thing to see."

And with that he walked behind a stand of his merchandise and vanished, leaving me with that riddle of a sentence ricocheting through my mind.

Not that I didn't understand what the phrase itself meant; I just couldn't figure out how it could relate to the situation Regina was in. I tried to decipher his words, read between the lines, but I still didn't comprehend what his suggestion applied to.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't realize I had just walked to Neal's apartment. I went inside: I was planning on making a stop there anyway, before picking Regina up.

I looked around the lounge and then his bedroom; everything was the same as the last time I had been there, of course, but it still hurt to see his whole life around me. I didn't think time was ever going to heal over the wounds on my heart that Neal and Hook had left. I could move on, of course; I could be happy. But a part of me was always going to miss them, of that I was sure.

I didn't exactly know why I had felt the urge to go there; maybe I was hoping to find something useful for Regina, or maybe I just needed to make sure I would be mentally and emotionally ready to spend the night there by myself. Either way, I walked around the modest flat, stopping every now and again to take a look at something that had drawn my attention. For some reason, it took me a while to notice a small crystal crown on a shelf, just about as big as a walnut, right next to a messy pile of books; I had walked past that spot several times already, I even read the titles of the volumes, but for some reason I was only seeing it now. I grabbed it. It was heavier than I had anticipated, and had a slightly yellow tint to it. I knew I should have left it there – especially considering that it looked quite expensive, and although Neal had passed away it still felt like stealing… Yet, my guts were telling me that I should keep it, and so I did.

With my hands in my pockets, I kept fiddling absent-mindedly with the crystal, as I made my way back to Regina's workplace. I took a few shortcuts in order to get there sooner, and after a good half-hour of walking I had finally arrived to the building.

I texted her, and she buzzed me in. The entrance was very stern-looking, almost emotionless, and so were the corridors I walked to get to Regina's office. A pattern of white and light grey furniture reflected the mixed light of the sun and the lamps, making the place so bright that my eyes were starting to water. Every step I made on the tiled floor echoed on the walls, and it felt as if I was drawing everyone's attention on me: as I walked past them, all of the people in the hallway glanced up at me, curios to know what an unknown visitor was doing there.

Regina's office was on the third floor, according to her text, so I took the just-as-severe elevator and waited as it accompanied me upstairs. Once its plain metal doors had slid open, I found myself once again surrounded by light colors – except for one door, on the left, that was completely black, and it didn't take long for me to deduce whose office it led to. A brass plaque that read, 'R. Mills,' right on top confirmed my hypothesis.

I knocked once on the polished ebony and waited for a frustrated, "What?!" before walking inside.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see you too, Miss Mills," I replied sarcastic. "If I'm bothering you I can go back to your place and just wait for you there-"

"No, you can stay," she said with a softer voice, "I'm just frustrated: I've been trying to reach out to my assistant for the past two days and she keeps ignoring me – and that is the kind of behavior that really grinds my gears. She didn't even have the decency to resign or at the very least inform me that she wasn't coming in to work," she explained. "Anyhow, I'm almost finished here. I've drawn and printed out the blueprints of your mother's flat and I have on my laptop a tridimensional graphic with all of the potential furniture already arranged. I'll just finish touching up a couple more things and we'll be ready to go back to Storybrooke by tomorrow." She beamed, seemingly satisfied and proud of her work, and I couldn't help but grin back.

I wandered around the office as silently as possible, browsing the room while she finished her project. It was quite large, definitely bigger than most people's workplaces, and the way it was decorated resembled Regina's other office, back at Storybrooke: every piece of furniture was either black or white, and everything was intently tidy – absolutely nothing seemed out of place. The only pop of color was the bright red of the fake apples that filled a bowl right on top of a bookshelf behind Regina's desk, both of which were of the same dark wood as the door. I looked at her, her expression revealing how focused she was: her eyes moved quickly from the computer screen to her laptop and back, her brow furrowed. She gazed up, her eyes meeting my own, and I quickly looked away, flushing for being caught staring.

I diverted my attention onto one of the paintings that hung from the patterned wall, but I didn't understand a thing of art, so I felt quite relieved when Regina said she was ready to go. She put her laptop into its case and we took off.