Chapter Three – The Town and The Mine

A child's laugh echoed through the clearing and the traveler's gaze dropped from the shimmering quality of the air to the forest floor. A little boy - he couldn't have been much older than five summers - danced across the mud and muck that covered the base of the clearing. Stockings fell loose around his boots, revealing dirty knees and grass stains at the base of his britches. His hair was hidden under a pointed red felt cap, but the traveler could see bits of close-cropped brown hair sticking out from it at odd angles.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his boots skidding to a halt just at the edge of the fairy ring, as though he did not dare step past the barrier they formed. His basket dangled limply from one chubby hand, grimy from the forest and his journey to the clearing. "Why are you standing on my rock?"

The traveler looked down at her boots, and at the large flat rock beneath her feet. She had not noticed them before, but the rock was littered with child-like scratching on the rock. There were pictures of birds and trees and a house in the woods. A woman asleep in a glass coffin – the traveler knew that story well, at least. She stepped carefully backwards, hand not relaxing the grip on the sword still clenched tightly in her fist.

The problem with a clearing so rife with magic is that they tended to attract the denizens of the forest who are inclined in the ancient arts. They were dangerous, interaction with them begged caution. Their moods could turn on a moment's notice. It was not wise to even go so far as to borrow the trouble of even interacting with such creatures. The traveler knew this, and her body remained on high alert, mindful of how the little boy-creature seemed to avoid the stepping past the circle of the mushrooms.

The traveler's eyes narrowed. She gingerly stepped down off of the rock, staying within the apparently safe circle of the fairy ring. "Why are you all alone in the woods, little man?" she countered.

The little boy bit his lip and held out his basket. "Mushrooms," he explained, pointing to the fairy ring. "They always grow around my rock."

Inclining her head, the traveler nodded her agreement. "Is it wise to destroy a ring such as this?" she asked. Her hand swept outwards, gesturing to the whole of the fairy ring. Such things were blessed; they held power that could not be quantified by the normal scales of such things?

The boy nodded slowly, his eyes wide and trusting. He knelt on the ground, his bare knee sinking into the dead leaves on the clearing's floor as he carefully pulled the dirt away from the mushroom closest to him. She could see his breath in the sparkling sunlight, misting as the morning's cool air still clung to the clearing.

The traveler took a half a step back, eyes wary. She watched as the boy whispered something so quietly that she could not discern it, pulling gently on the mushroom cap. Her expression twisted from concern into amazement as the boy charmed the mushroom, root and all, out of the ground and set it in his basket.

"My mother is a witch," the boy explained, looking up at her with a cheerful smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks formed perfect dimples as he moved on to the next mushroom. "She uses these in spells. They always grow back because I ask them to."

The traveler bit her tongue and raised her sword, sliding it home into the scabbard on her back. This child was no threat to her, simply a little boy doing his chores. "Can I help?" she asked, pushing up her shirtsleeves.

The boy nodded, leaning forward. The magic words to charm the mushrooms out of the ground were on his lips. The traveler grinned at him and listened. She had no skill with magic, but she was willing to try.

Rain began to fall around them.

Emma Swan jerked awake, cramped and uncomfortable in the back seat of her car. The blanket that she'd pulled over herself had twisted around her, leaving her immobile and uncomfortable.

Rain was pounding down, filling her tiny Volkswagen with the canned noise of rain against metal, echoing in the small space. Emma shivered, pulling at the blanket. Maine was far, far too cold in October.

This was now officially her fourth day in her car. She'd tried to stay away from Henry during that time, but he'd sucked her into a misadventure with Mary Margaret and the man he was convinced was Prince Charming. The man who'd been in a coma for as long as anyone could remember.

Still, Emma liked to think that she was actually doing fairly well for herself, the man in the coma was now awake and happily reunited with his wife. The Mayor seemed actually pleased with the help that she'd been able to provide for that case, even if Henry was convinced that Kathryn Nolan was not actually coma guy's wife.

It had been convenient, but hey, Emma was far too much of a skeptic to write Regina Mills off as an evil queen just because of series of anecdotal stories coming from a ten year old. The kid had issues, but those were the issues that made her want to know him. She wanted to know what went on inside the head of the child she'd birthed ten years ago, because he obviously was onto something, considering how coma guy - David Nolan's - amnesia was really too convenient and he seemed far more drawn to Mary Margaret than to his wife.

Emma grunted, sleep was eluding her at this point anyway, she might as well wake up and find something to do in this Podunk town for an hour or two. Maybe Ruby or someone could tell her where there was a bar. A drink after that dream and the memory of the child who looked too much like Henry sounded really good right about now.

Emma pushed herself into a sitting position, angling her legs straight up and pressing them against the Beetle's tiny back window. God above, they ached. Emma groaned and uncurled her body, thinking of the bed at Mrs. Lucas' bed and breakfast. She missed small comforts like that, but this was hardly the worst position she'd found herself in.

She sighed - at least Graham, the sheriff, had been willing to let her use the showers at the police station after she'd helped them find David Nolan. She was still a day ripe after that and the newspaper classified ads had revealed absolutely zero vacancies in town for rent. Emma did not know if that was the mayor's doing or the lack of anything other than residential old colonials in town. Emma was used to Boston and to the suburbs. She wasn't accustomed to the idea that there simply may not be an apartment building that had a vacancy for her.

There was a sharp rap on the window of the driver's side of the car, opposite to where Emma was sitting. She squinted through the rain battering her window and saw a familiar face. Emma kicked the blanket off of her legs and pushed herself through the impossibly small space between the driver and passenger seats of the car. She winced as she heard something plastic crack under her weight and prayed that it was not her Rebel Yell cassette that had just bit the dust. She'd had that damn thing most of her life and she refused to part with it, even if her musical tastes had evolved since her love of Billy Idol had set in at age eleven.

Emma half-crouched in the driver's seat and rolled down the window gingerly, not wanting to get the already ratty interior of the car wet. She squinted in the half-light up at the intruder into her peaceful cocoon of half-freezing her ass off, cramped and uncomfortable.

"Mary Margaret, hi!" she said, blinking up at the school teacher who was thoughtfully holding her wide umbrella over the roof of the car to prevent Emma from getting wet in the downpour. Emma ran a hand through her hair and tilted her head to one side, "Can I… help you with something?"

The dark haired woman's face was very resolved when she asked, "Are you sleeping in your car?"

"Uh… yeah," Emma glanced at the back seat, her jacket rolled up as a makeshift pillow at one end and the blanket at the other. It somehow didn't seem smart to lie; Henry had wanted to know why she hadn't been at the bed and breakfast a few days ago when he'd gone looking for her there. The little traitor had probably told his teacher all about Emma's personal problems. Jerk. "I guess I am."

"Unlock the passenger door, it's getting too cold at night and I have a spare room," Her voice was firm and when Emma opened her mouth to argue, Mary Margaret gave Emma a look that almost dared her to try. Emma snapped her mouth shut and moved to roll up her window. "You should have said something," the teacher added, moving away from the window.

Emma said nothing, just leaned over and pulled up the door lock on the passenger side and fumbled for her keys in her jacket pocket. "You don't have to do this," she said as Mary Margaret shook out her umbrella and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Of course I do," Mary Margaret said. Her hands were gripping her umbrella handle so tightly her knuckles were white, and she was resolutely looking down at the way the rain water was splattered up and down her pant legs. Emma wondered what she was so afraid of, but she knew the answer almost instantly.

The Mayor would not take kindly to such an act of kindness.

Shifting the car into first, Emma pulled out onto the rainy street. Her headlights cut a stark line out and into the pouring rain. Emma bit her lip, scowling at the road before turning and heading towards Mary Margaret's apartment.

The ride was silent, Emma listening to the rain and Mary Margaret's breathing, her mind drifting back to the dream. Again, the same dream, they plagued her these days. Coming to Storybrooke had increased them from mere occasional happenings to an almost nightly occurrence. The forest, the clearing and Emma's half-awake mind pushed details together that maybe were not entirely true. Was the little boy in her dream supposed to represent Henry?

Her eyes narrowed and she adjusted herself in the seat slightly. The light before them clicked from red to yellow and Emma proceeded slowly across the intersection, fingers gripping the thin metal and plastic that was the bug's steering wheel. "Did you come out just to find me?"

Mary Margaret shook her head, her cheeks coloring under the light of a street lamp as Emma pulled into the small lot behind the building that housed Mary Margaret's apartment. "No," she admitted. She didn't look at Emma when she added, "I had a date with someone."

She wasn't judging, but Emma's mind drifted; thinking about how Kathryn Nolan had looked upon seeing David Nolan back and happily awakened from his coma. She knew what Henry thought about David, and about how it fit into his general theory about Mary Margaret as well. "Oh," she tried, killing the engine and flicking her lights off. She leaned into the back of the car and gathered Mrs. Lucas' blanket and her jacket. Her bag was bunched at Mary Margaret's feet, she'd get it later.

"Doctor Whale," Mary Margaret said with a closed-off smile that Emma found very telling. Her cheeks were pink when she added, "He paid, this time."

Well, that was something.

They clambered out of the car, Emma grateful for the awning she'd been able to find to park under, her car was protected against the elements and it meant that she would be able to avoid getting drenched in this rain getting into the apartment. "That's good," she said, gathering up her bag and the bundle of the blanket and her jacket. She followed Mary Margaret through the semi-darkness, picking their way along under the awning.

The door to the apartment building had no lock, and Mary Margaret pushed it open gratefully. Emma stamped her feet on the threadbare rug at the base of the stairs and Mary Margaret tapped out her umbrella before climbing them resolutely. It wasn't until they were safely at the top of the stairs and Mary Margaret had opened the door that Emma finally found the words to say what she'd wanted to say since she'd first found herself confronted with such a kind offer from a woman she barely even knew.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Borrowing the Mayor's wrath can't be easy."

Mary Margaret shrugged, "Regina is a hard woman, but she's not inhuman. She'll see eventually that this-" she gestured between the two of them, "-is an okay and totally reasonable thing." Pushing open the door, she added with a smile, "Welcome home, Emma."

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Living with Mary Margaret soon fell into a pattern that was almost comforting to Emma. She was so accustomed to having chaos rule her life that to have an easy routine made her feel more grounded than she'd felt in years. Henry became like a third resident of the small apartment, coming and going as though it was a second nature to him. Emma found herself growing comfortable in the town, and it scared her how easily she'd found herself integrating with the community.

It wasn't until she'd spent two days helping out the town's pawnbroker on what had turned out to be a less-than-savory endeavor involving a baby that Emma finally found herself taking a moment to stare at her hands and wonder what the fuck she was even doing in Storybrooke. Henry was not an acceptable answer, he couldn't be. She'd made her decision regarding him ten years ago when she'd signed the adoption papers. Emma did not want to think of herself in a motherly sense, and Henry was bringing out all of those instincts in her.

She pushed the stool that she was sitting on back, leaning onto only two of its legs. Her hand rested on Mary Margaret's countertop, just enough to keep her steady. She lingered there, balanced, her eyes closed and her mind racing. She owed Gold a favor now, and Emma hated the feeling of dread that settled deep in the pit of her stomach just thinking about it. Henry told her not to make a deal with him, and everything seemed to indicate that owing him anything came at a higher price than she was probably going to be willing to play.

She wasn't an idiot. Emma had put together two and two and realized that it had been Gold who had helped the Mayor to adopt Henry. His fingers were all over the adoption papers, the contract damn near perfect. Emma winced, thinking about what the Mayor must have had to do for the creepy old man to get him to bring her Henry. The man drove a bargain unlike many Emma had seen in her life.

Her mind drifted again, thinking of another man who drove bargains in a similar way. She'd traded a few kind words and a place to sleep for the night for sex then, thinking it would be the solution to her problems.

Emma pushed the thoughts violently out of her mind she couldn't go back to that time, when she'd been so young and so damn stupid. She couldn't dwell on that in a place like this, where such memories had no place. Henry could never know just how foolishly he'd come into existence, it would hurt him far more than anything that his mother could say to him about Emma.

Her jaw hardened.

She was filled, quite suddenly, with an impulse to go and see Henry. It was a Thursday afternoon, and Henry was at home with his mother. Mary Margaret was stuck at teacher in-service for the next two days, prepping for parent teacher conferences. Emma had been left to her own devices, and she'd het to decide what to do with the afternoon.

Grabbing her keys, Emma headed towards the door. Mary Margaret had left her a key with little ceremony on her second day staying at the apartment without ceremony. Setting it out with a bowl of oatmeal and directions on how to heat it up in the microwave like it was no big deal. Emma had frowned, thinking of just how big a deal it was.

It was easy enough to steal over to the Mayor's house and watch Henry as he helped his mother in the garden. Regina was wearing jeans and an old shirt with the town's seal emblazoned across the back. She was directing Henry with a wheelbarrow full of bulbs as she moved around the garden, watching as his little hands worked the trowel in and out of the earth to form perfect little holes.

She hadn't known he was a gardener – or that Regina was one for that matter. Emma supposed that the apple tree should have given it away, but there was a practiced ease to which the Mayor moved about the garden that was far more relaxed than Emma had ever seen her. This was the sort of mother that Emma had wanted for Henry. The parent who would take their craft and impart it onto her child without thought, the way that it was done in the stories that Henry loved so much.

She was unwelcome here, she knew that. This idyllic moment proved that no matter how much she might want to be a part of Henry's life, she couldn't truly linger here. Emma clenched her jaw, her hands pulling tight into fists as she watched Henry pull a packet of bulbs out of the wheelbarrow and hand them to Regina, gesturing to them and presumably asking where to put them.

It was all too… perfect.

"They look happy," came a voice to Emma's left. Emma jumped, shocked out of her thoughts as she turned to find Doctor Hopper and Pongo (okay that was just straight up Disney, not fairy tales) drawing up next to her. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave Emma a wry smile. "It's nice to see them that way."

He looked sad, and Emma wondered if there was something up with him. She knelt to pat Pongo on the head, fingers smoothing over the short fur at the top of his head. "Is something up with Henry, Doctor Hopper?" she asked.

She had to know, Henry was the only thing keeping her here. Henry and Graham's business card that was currently burning a hole in her pocket; he'd offered her a job. Emma wasn't sure she should take it. Sheriff was an appointed position in Maine, unless there were two vying for the spot and then it would become an election. Emma did not want to borrow trouble and get Graham ousted from his seat just because he'd shown her unnecessary kindness.

The doctor sighed and looked again towards Henry. Emma followed his gaze and they stood silently for a few minutes before the doctor shook his head. "It's nothing," he explained, and turned to go. Emma could sense the lie almost instantly, the way his pupils grew large and he swallowed uncomfortably. "You have a good day, Ms. Swan."

She gave a small wave and watched as Archie turned and made his way slowly down the road, away from them. He was twirling his umbrella and looking for all the world like the cartoon Henry suspected that he was. Emma's face pulled downwards into a frown and she jammed her hands into her pockets.

Her fingers touched worn cardstock and Emma pulled out the business card that Graham had shoved into her hands a few days prior, when they'd found David Nolan. She had wanted to laugh in his face at that moment. No one wanted her around; it wasn't how things worked with her. She'd been through enough homes to know that she was never quite good enough to keep.

Emma turned and walked away from Henry and his mother, her fingers moving over the keypad on her phone.

Graham picked up on the second ring. "It's Emma Swan," she said after his greeting. "I was thinking…"

He chuckled, "That maybe you'd like to put down some roots?"

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "Roots wouldn't be so bad."

"I'll see you eight o'clock on Monday then."

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Emma brought coffee to the sheriff's station and a box of doughnuts on her first morning because it felt like the right thing to do. Graham took his with a smile and tossed her a deputy's badge. "Welcome aboard," he said with a smile, tipping his coffee too her. Emma felt herself grinning back at him. He was the sort of guy that should see herself inadvertently falling for – pulled in by charm and driven to stay because he was genuinely a good guy.

Emma didn't do good guys. No, she was attracted to broken people who cannot love. She didn't know if it's because she's never actually had a family of her own to know what love is, but Henry was quickly growing on her and Mary Margaret could be pretty damn motherly when she put her mind to it. She shook her head, thinking of Henry's crazy theory that Mary Margaret was somehow her mother. It was preposterous, right?

"Well," Graham said, grinning. He gestured to the badge in Emma's hand. "Put it on!"

As she slid the badge home over her belt, Emma felt the ground shake and she pitched forward into the desk in front of her. "What the hell was that?" she asked, pushing herself upright as Graham sprinted towards the window. Emma hurried across the room to join him, eyes narrowing in the weak autumn sunshine.

A large plume of smoke and dust rose up over an area down the main street towards the west of town. Emma felt her breath catch in her throat as Graham backed away hurriedly, grabbing his jacket and a duffle bag emblazoned with the large white cross that indicated that it was full of first aid equipment. The phone had started to ring, and Emma lunged forward to grab it as Graham indicated that he would pull the cruiser around.

"Sheriff's station," Emma said as quickly as she could. She was scrambling for a pen and paper, half-listening to the concerned citizen on the other line shrieked about how something was happening at the old mines. "Ma'am," she said finally after three minutes of not being able to get a word in edge-wise. "The sheriff and myself are on our away down there now. Please remain in your house unless you feel the foundation is unsafe. We're coming, ma'am."

Outside, Graham honked the car's horn and Emma grabbed her keys and locked the door behind herself as she hurried out to the cruiser. "I got as much police tape and stakes as I could find in the back," he explained, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the cord of wooden stakes and three rolls of police tape. "Trial by fire on your first day, huh?"

Emma just shrugged. She wondered if Graham had told the Mayor that she had been hired. She was going to have a fit if he hadn't, and judging by the way a small smile was tugging at the corners of Graham's mouth, Emma guessed that she was about to get chewed the fuck out by a rather irate Regina Mills.

The mines, Graham explained quickly as they gathered their supplies and pushed through the crowd of onlookers, had been closed along ago because they were considered unsafe. The county had shifted away from using whatever had come from them, and Storybrooke's economy had become less dependent on the constant comings and goings of trains full of coal. "Now they're just a hazard," he explained as he used a pocket knife to cut the plastic wrapping that held their cord of stakes together. He passed Emma a large mallet and positioned the first stake into the ground.

"Just three for now?" She asked, as he tied off one end of the police tape.

Graham nodded. "Just to keep people away, safer tha' way."

Emma wasn't paying attention, watching with narrowed eyes as a black Mercedes pulled up next to Graham's cruiser. The Mayor had arrived, and with her a hush fell over the gathered crowd as the woman got out of her car and paused, bending slightly to pick up something from the ground before jamming her hands into her jacket pockets and heading straight for Emma.

She gulped as the Mayor drew level with her, eyes trailing down to rest at the deputy's badge at her waist and the gun holster on her shoulder. She hadn't finished the paperwork for the firearm yet, but Graham had said that he'd take her into the woods to practice before the week was out and he could officially issue her a service piece.

"Miss Swan," the Mayor's voice was icy cold and Emma felt herself take half a step forward. She did not want this to fall onto Graham, no matter how much the upcoming shitstorm was his fault. "I see that you have found yourself a position of importance within our town."

Emma gave a small shrug and ripped a piece of police tape with a little bit more vigor than she had perhaps meant. She tied it around the stake in a tight knot and glanced up to meet the Mayor's eyes. "I was offered a job and I accepted it," she explained simply. There was no room for argument in that statement, Emma reasoned. She should be okay.

The Mayor's dark eyes seemed to glow with malevolent energy and she held Emma's gaze for a long moment before she turned and began to address the townspeople. The mines, she explained, while a long-standing testament to Storybrooke's rich history, were growing into a safety hazard. It was time, she explained in slow, carefully chosen words, to move on from that historical mindset and create something that could bring Storybrooke forward.

The woman was a damn good politician, Emma reasoned, moving on with Graham to secure some secondary stakes to hold up the police line. She was about to comment that he really should communicate better with his boss about new hires when Henry's voice cut over the quiet murmurings of the crowd.

"What did you do!" he demanded, pulling away from Archie Hopper and marching up to his mother with an accusing look in his eyes.

"Kid'll be the death of us all," Graham muttered, peering across the clearing to where Regina had knelt down in front of Henry.

Emma shrugged, "He's just wrapped up in his stories."

"Exactly," Graham agreed. He stabbed a stake into the ground with relish and used the mallet that Emma passed him to hammer it home. "One of these days the lad's going to get an idea into his head and run off somewhere and we won't be able to track him down." His eyes lingered on the Mayor for a moment and he shook his head tiredly.

It was an easy assessment of the situation, straight and honest, much like Graham himself. Emma felt her stomach knot as Henry pushed away from his mother and stalked off over towards the car. He climbed in and slumped low in the back seat, his arms folded across his chest.

Emma turned her attention back to placing the tape to keep people away. The ground was still shifting, and the whole place felt like it was about to cave in around them. She felt the tension of the conversation between Doctor Hopper and the Mayor from clear across the clearing where the mine's entrance still stood ominously open. It was a gaping mouth in the ground, waiting to swallow someone unsuspecting and innocent completely whole.

She shivered despite herself and watched as Doctor Hopper stalked away from the Mayor, the line of his shoulders a tense knot. She gathered the rest of her tools and headed back towards the cruiser, hoping for a few minutes with Henry before the Mayor stole him away. She needed to tell him to chill out. His mother wasn't responsible for every bad thing that happened in Storybrooke.

(She reasoned that Mr. Gold was probably responsible for about sixty percent of them.)

"Deputy," the Mayor intoned as Emma contorted herself, trying to dig the cruiser keys out of her jacket pocket with an armful of unused stakes in one hand and a mallet in the other. Emma paused, fingers half-way into her jacket as she turned to face the Mayor.

A strange sort of smile played across the Mayor's face as she stood with her hands in her pockets. "Welcome to the city government."

Emma inclined her head, forcing an almost smile onto her face. It felt more like a grimace, but then again, the Mayor's smile looked more like a sneer. She supposed that they were even, in that respect. "Thanks," she said quietly. "Graham and I are going to switch off keeping an eye out here at night; make sure no intrepid explorers venture down into the mines and get lost."

The mayor seemed to consider this before she took a step forward, eyes flashing dangerously. "No one goes into those mines, Deputy, unless it is to blast them shut forever."

Emma swallowed and stepped aside. There was something final in Regina's tone, and Emma found her assessment of the situation accurate. The mines were simply too unstable to leave standing as they were.

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Mary Margaret, it turned out, had been to visit David Nolan in the hospital again. She had sat Emma down and was attempting to explain how she felt about the man when there was a knock on the door. A second later Henry burst into the room, his cheeks streaked with tears. Emma half-stood up and he launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and sobbing that Doctor Hopper had been mean to him. That Doctor Hopper, who was somewhat of a believer and participant in Operation Cobra, had told him that he needed to come back to reality and that he needed to do it now.

Emma glanced at Mary Margaret, her hand awkwardly hovering above Henry's head, almost afraid to touch him as he cried. She gave half a nod and Emma let her hand fall to touch Henry's hair. It felt damp, like he'd run through the drizzle from Doctor Hopper's office without thought to the fact that he was getting wet. "Why?" Henry demanded of Emma's stomach, "Why would he say something like that?!"

Her fingers dropped down slightly to cup his cheeks, smoothing away tears into sweaty streaks of brown across his face. "I don't know kid," Emma intoned tiredly. She wasn't good with kids, crying upset kids especially. She bit her lip as Henry's eyes watered and a second wave of tears threatened to spill over.

"I know how to prove it to him," Henry said a moment later, glancing from Mary Margaret to Emma. He backed out Emma's embrace and pulled open his backpack. Unearthing the book that seemed to be the cause of all of Emma's problems these days, Henry opened it to a picture of a mine entrance not dissimilar to the one on the edge of town. "There's magic in the mines, according to the book." His eyes were narrowed and resolute. "I think we can prove Operation Cobra once and for all," he concluded.

"What!" Emma reached forward and closed the book with a snap. She had had enough of this fairy tale bullshit and the kid was starting to sound like he had a damn death wish. "Kid, you are not going down into those mines. They're not safe!"

Henry's face fell and he turned to Mary Margaret, "You believe me, don't you?" His eyes were wide and pitiful, and Emma already had made up her mind to call Regina as soon as she could to tell her that Henry needed to be watched a lot more closely than he was now.

Mary Margaret shook her head and sighed. "Henry, the only thing in those mines is disaster; you should stay away from them."

His gaze flicked from his teacher to Emma and back again, disbelief coloring his features as he looked between the two of them. "Why don't you believe me?" he wanted to know, tears starting to fall once again. "Why don't you believe me!" he repeated, this time louder and more insistent. He sounded like a spoiled child who wasn't getting his way, and Emma realized that maybe indulging his ideas about fairy tales and the curse had been a bad idea. Henry was about to do something really, really stupid. The kid shared her genetics, and Emma recognized the 'I'm about to go do something stupid' look in Henry's eyes.

Henry jammed the book back into his backpack and ran towards the door. "I'll prove you all wrong!" he shouted, slamming it behind him.

"He wouldn't…" Mary Margaret trailed off, staring at the door as Emma lunged for her phone and keys.

Emma's mouth was drawn into a hard line. She didn't know if Henry would go straight for the mines, she hadn't seen what he had in his backpack. "I don't know," she muttered. "Stay here in case he comes back?"

She nodded, "Sure. Call me the minute you find him."

"Will do," Emma agreed.

The day was turning dark as Emma hurried up the main street towards Archie Hopper's office. She wanted to know exactly what he had said to Henry to get him acting as though he had something to prove. Emma's mind raced as she tried to reason herself out of thinking that Henry would go to the mine and maybe even venture into it. She knew that that was exactly where he was going, her instincts told her that much.

She nearly collided with Doctor Hopper and Pongo as she turned down Westin Street. He looked as out of breath as she did, his eyes as scared looking. Emma grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him up against the wall of the bookstore they were in front of. "What did you tell him?" she demanded.

The doctor's lip shook and he sighed, "I told him that I couldn't be a part of Operation Cobra anymore because it wasn't real."

"You've destroyed his imagination," Emma levied.

Archie nodded, looking stricken at the very thought of what he had done. "It was not my intention to drive him to such drastic actions." His voice was full of regret for what he had done, and Emma could see the remorse clearly written across his face.

"Then he's gone to the mine," Emma concluded, finally admitting to herself what she had known all along. She had to call Graham, had to call Regina. Henry was in danger. Her mind raced as she backed away from Archie and dug her phone out of her pocket. "You go ahead to the mine, he doesn't have much of a head start, I'm going to get Graham and the Mayor."

"This was her idea," Archie added. "She wanted him to stop believing."

Emma's lips became a thin line. "Maybe it's for the best," she reasoned.

Pongo hurried after Doctor Hopper as Emma turned and dialed the Mayor's number.

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The Mayor picked her up at the corner of Westin and Main, her expression panicked as Emma explained to her what had happened. Emma watched the woman grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands and added, "I think you got what you wanted out of Archie."

"And what is that, dear?" Regina's tone was angry and terse, but there was a hint of fear there that Emma had never heard before. It set Emma at odds with her instincts in this particular moment. She was of the mind to tell Regina to figure it out for herself, but this was Henryand he was in danger. They had to rise above whatever petty bullshit was going on between them.

"You got him to destroy Henry's imagination," Emma whispered. She stared ahead of them as the mine's entrance came into view, not daring to look over at the Mayor as she spoke. "You told him to end the one thing that Henry has found safe and good in his life because you think he's an embarrassment to you."

For that, the Mayor must have had no response. Emma let her eyes narrow as she stared out across the expanse of the mine's entrance. There were tracks, she thought, that lead into the mine. It had been rainy all morning and only now was clearing up, and fresh prints lead down the embankment towards the entrance. Pongo was tied to one of the stakes they'd lain earlier that day, but Archie was nowhere in sight.

"Where the hell is he?" Regina demanded as Emma climbed out of the car and half-ran, half-fell down the unstable gravel hill to the mine's entrance. Her feet slipped on the rock and dirty, tilting almost sideways as the mine's entrance shook violently once, twice, before it gave a loud groan and lurched to the left. Emma pitched sideways, her shoulder hitting the ground painfully as she skidded backwards across the ground, legs kicking up in the mud as she tried to get away from the quickly deepening hole.

Almost as suddenly as the tremor had started, it stopped. Emma sat up and blinked, trying to see through the haze of dust and mud in the air. "Henry!" Emma shouted as she pushed herself forward into the dust could. Her shoulder ached, but she shoved at the earth that now covered the mine's entrance, desperate to find a way into the mine to save the little boy. "Henry!"

"Emma!" Graham's voice came through the cloud of dust and he pulled her backwards just as the ground shook again, this time pitching them both backwards towards the sloping walls of this little place of hell that they had found themselves in. He dragged her up the embankment and held her back as she tried to push forward again. "It's not safe!"

Emma's face was streaked with dust and what had to be tears as she clung to Graham as the dust settled. Regina didn't look much better, holding Pongo's leash a few feet away. She was chewing on her lips, her arms wrapped around herself, and Emma wanted to go to her. She shook her head violently, pushing the thought out of her mind as she tried to push herself to her feet. Her shoulder was killing her.

"What do you need me to do," she asked Graham and Regina both. "We're not going to get in that way," she jerked her thumb to the caved in entrance.

"You think I don't know that?!" The Mayor's voice was borderline hysterical and Emma closed her eyes and reached out, fingers brushing against the Mayor's black sweater. "Henry could be buried alive." Her whole body was shaking, convulsing as Emma threw caution into the wind and pulled the other woman as close to her as she dared.

She smelled of sweat and of fear, a taste of the ocean on a dark night, Emma wanted to breathe in, wanted to linger, but that was out of the question. "We'll get him out," she promised.

Regina dropped Pongo's leash and the dog skittered off and up a hill, barking and pawing at the ground. Emma stepped back, eyes level with Regina's. There was something besides the usual glare of contempt that so characterized Regina's interactions with Emma in that moment, and Emma felt herself smile in return. "I promise."

"Why would I trust your promise?" Regina asked, staring off in the direction that Pongo had run. The Dalmatian was digging in the dirt, kicking up leaves and rocks, barking excitedly. She held Emma's gaze evenly. "You've brought me nothing but strife."

Emma opened and closed her mouth several times, before turning and walking away, towards Pongo. She could hear the crunch of a second pair of feet in the gravel behind her and when Graham pulled Pongo away from what looked like another way into the mine; he gave a whoop of excitement.

She had never seen the Mayor move so quickly, and Emma ran after her, skirting around the police tape to the top of the small hill that overlooked the pit. Graham was brushing dirt off of a large flat area that looked suspiciously man-made. Emma dropped to her knees and began to move the dry leaves and moss away from what had to be an airshaft. It was a mine, mines needed back doors because it was too damn dangerous not to have them.

"How are we going to get down there?" Emma stared down the old airshaft. Her fingers laced over the rusted grate that covered the hole in the ground and she tried to feel around the edged for a hinge or a lock. A second set of hands joined her own, and she looked up to see Regina feeling across the opposite side of the grate.

"I've got a crowbar in the cruiser," Graham said, getting to his feet. He gave the airshaft's grate a thoughtful look and added, "And a harness."

Regina's eyes flashed and she snapped, "Lower me down." Emma's eyes widened at how resolute the woman looked, and how monumentally bad an idea it was. The woman had been sitting behind a desk for god-only-knew how long. Emma didn't know what sort of shape Regina was in, but to lug a child out of a mine would take a lot more brawn than she suspected the Mayor had.

By this point, other people seemed to have noticed the commotion and had started to gather at the base of the hillside. Graham had paused on his way to the cruiser and was speaking in quiet tones to Leroy and a man that Emma recognized from the local auto repair shop. He was gesturing to the tow truck parked a ways off and then to the grate in the ground and the top of the hill where the grate was.

Clever.

"Are you kidding?" Emma replied, taking a step forward and touching Regina's arm. She tried not to flinch as Regina jerked away from her touch. "You've been behind a desk for ten years! Let me do it."

"You're lording your level of prison fitness over me in a time like this?" Regina scowled and turned away.

Emma bit her lip and accepted the harness that Graham had run up with. She had no answer to that, but she knew that she was right. She let Regina have a moment to see her reasoning and the logic in her actions. It had been years since she'd put on a harness like this, since the last time she'd had to chase someone down a cliff face and into a cave. She'd been twenty two then, and the years were starting to creep up on her.

Fear knotted in the pit of Emma's stomach and she shrugged off her jacket, trying not to think about the fact that Henry could suffocate or be buried alive down there, not to mention Archie.

This was bad, this was very, very bad.

The kid was down a mine shaft, alone save a man who'd betrayed his trust and threatened to destroy the very fabric of the world he held so dear. Emma's jaw was clenched into an angry line as she helped Graham with the harness. She was right in telling Regina that this was not the best work for a desk jockey, but she could see the hurt in the woman's eyes even then. She pulled the final knot tight, checking that each of the straps was doubled back into the clips to prevent slipping should her weight sift suddenly, before stepping forward and tapping the Mayor on the shoulder.

"I meant no offense, before," she said lamely. Regina Mills was many things, and she was a constant unknown in Emma's life. Emma did not know how to act around her on the best of days, and at their worst they were at each other's throats. Still she felt a pull towards the Mayor that she wrote off as her need to be around Henry.

Regina's face was drawn, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes wide with worry. She did not shy away this time as Emma let her hand linger on her shoulder, the connection slowing the pull at the pit of Emma's stomach. Steadying it, giving her strength she didn't know she needed to do this. Mines were new for her. Caves, Emma had done, but mines? No, mines were volatile and dangerous even without the cave-ins that currently were plaguing this one. Fear gripped her stomach as she tried to meet Regina's eyes. "I know you didn't," she said quietly. "Just get him back."

Win my favor.

Emma touched her hand over her heart and inclined her head downwards. "I will," Emma promised and took a step forward into nothingness, dropping with the speed of a daredevil. Had she looked up, she would have seen a pair of dark and thoughtful eyes following her descent into the darkness with a guarded interest.

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A history in practical etiquette:

The Evil Queen took the hearts of those most faithful to her as a sign of subservience and loyalty. She had decreed it the gesture of utmost respect and honor to do such a thing, and the entire land had adopted a gesture affirming that that loyalty seemingly overnight. They would touch their hands to their hearts in her presence, ready to plunge their fists inside at a moment's notice to offer up the ultimate sacrifice.

Some did not like the gesture, and thought the queen a cruel witch for taking such things from her most loyal and trusted soldiers. They argued that the practice was barbaric, and that it should be stopped. No one dared oppose the queen in her own lands, so a party was dispatched to the mines far to the north to speak to a man who was said to be able to do anything.

In exchange for what appeared to be very little at the time, the master of magic himself had told them of a demon who could be caught in a small ceramic jar and unleashed near the queen – a demon that ate hearts such as those the queen collected.

"Catch a queen with a monster that eats hearts!" the man-beast had laughed.

Did they ever catch the demon?

All in good time, dearie, all in good time.

Anyone who knows the show's canon will know that I sort of skipped over a bunch of things and blended them together. I needed to advance the plot, but I also needed to lay a groundwork for the story proper. It's hard to just jump into something for me without establishing very clear motives and origins for a lot of the events in the story beforehand. I know some people are better at that than others. This is my playing fast and lose with canon, the next chapter is when the story really starts to pick up, trust me on this.

Huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed and added this story to their watch and favorites lists. it means a TON to me that you guys took the time to read this story. So thank you, all of you.

Next: The Wolf and the Woods