HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEGAN! So I decided to do something special for you since this is technically your first birthday that I've been friends with you so, with a lot of help from some friends, we wrote you a bunch of mini fics to one shots to ficlets on a whole range of your favorite Once characters. Have an absolutely fantastic, amazing, awesome, hilarious magical birthday you lovely lady. You absolutely deserve it you Emma Swan you ;) Hope you like them!

17. Turns out Henry wrote the book of fairytales and everyone's been playing a prank on Emma the whole time. Or are they? Emma is the only believer in the town and has to round up everyone to defeat Regina.

Written by: Lisa

Emma wasn't exactly sure what to think when this kid – her son – told her his town was magical.

Actually, no, she knew exactly what she had thought: Wow, no. Magic doesn't exist, kid, sorry to say.

She just wasn't sure how to respond, as he looked across from her in the little café, ever hopeful.

"So," Emma said, elongating the word as she thought ahead, "You think everybody in this town is a fairytale character."

"They are!" he – Henry – replied excitedly, "See? I have the book here and everything. It says who everybody's supposed to be."

He hauled out a large tome, titled Once Upon A Time. Emma let the book slide up to her, and reluctantly opened the pages, flipping through it.

The pictures did bare striking resemblance to the people in the town, but that didn't mean anything. Some local author probably did it, and the kid was just delusional.

That thought made Emma kind of sad.

"Listen, Henry," she told him, "I think you've got an over-active imagination is all. Magic isn't a real thing. You know that, right? Magic isn't real."

"Yes it is!" henry protested right away, "I know you think there's something wrong with me, but please! Let me prove it to you!"

Emma sighed and shook her head and made to leave, but Henry grabbed her arm.

"Fine," he conceded quickly, "If you won't stay to see the magic, at least… Stay? For a few nights? I want to… Talk to you. Get to know you a little."

For some reason, Emma couldn't say no. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

Henry smiled as she promised to book a room.

"What the hell was that?" Emma demanded, wide-eyed.

"I-I don't know!" Henry responded, "But… do you think it was her? The Evil Queen?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out," Emma replied, her tone exasperated and angry.

She had had it up to here with Regina and her condescending, cruel, messed-up mind games.

As they turned the corner, they found the main street in disarray. People moved toward the shops and away from the center of the road, which sported a huge, smoking crater. People exclaimed at one another in confusion and fear, holding their friends and family close.

"Whoa," Henry commented, staring. Emma approached the crater and took a look inside.

She blinked at what she saw.

The book. Henry's book. The book they thought they'd lost a week ago.

It lay at the center of the crater, completely untouched, gleaming with some sort of surreal aura of light.

Graham stepped in to quarantine the area.

After the chaos of the night, a chilly confrontation with Regina, and being brought in for questions, Emma was very happy to go back to Mary Margaret's apartment.

"Do you have scotch?" Emma asked, needing a drink very badly.

Mary Margaret didn't bother giving her a glass.

She was having tea.

In the town hall.

Surrounded by ordinary people.

"A prank."

A few snickers could be heard from the back rows. Someone shuffled in their seat and coughed. Regina smiled, her smile strangely sweet and completely unnerving.

"Yes," she replied, "It was Henry's idea, actually. This town is so boring, Miss Swan, that we all jump at the chance to listen to a boy's wild idea and make it a reality."

Emma's head was beginning to hurt.

"So- so wait… none of that... Nothing I saw-"

"Was real, no," Regina replied, sitting demurely in her chair. It was like she was an entirely different person.

Emma wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Oh, don't worry, everybody here likes you," Mary Margaret cut in, seeing Emma's confusion, "And everybody who got to act nice to you genuinely feels that way. At least, I know I do. I wasn't lying when I said you were one of the few friends I have. We just… we wanted to try it out. Turns out, it was a great exercise for building the community as well."

"It's true," David responded, one arm around Kathryn's shoulder, "We all had a lot of fun. We hope… I mean, are you upset?"

Emma wasn't sure what it was she felt. But she did know she had to get out.

So she stood up, and calmly left.

"Dinner was fantastic, thank you," Emma said, "That lasagna was the best I've had in years."

"Oh, well thank you," Regina replied, sitting at the head of the table. David, Mary Margaret, Mr. Gold and Henry continued to eat, just about done the main course.

"Here, let me get that for you," Mr. Gold offered. Emma waved him off.

"Oh, no, it's fine, thanks," she replied, "I got it."

"What's for dessert?" Henry asked, scarcely done his last bite.

"Slow down, you, or you'll give yourself a stomach ache," Regina replied, ruffling his hair, "It's chocolate mousse cake."

"Oh, Regina, you've got to stop having me over, I'm going to be the size of a house!" Mary Margaret laughed.

They finished up dinner and moved onto dessert, the guests leaving one by one.

They exchanged emails and phone numbers with Emma.

She had to leave and get back home.

"Thank you for such a fun evening," Emma told Regina and Henry as she stood on the porch in the cool night air, "It was great."

"You'll come back to visit, right?" Henry asked. Emma laughed and bent down to hug him.

"You betcha I will," she replied, and Regina smiled approvingly. She stood up and shook hands with Regina.

"Goodbye, Miss Swan," she said, "It's been fun. Drive safely."

"Thanks, I will. See you around!"

As Emma left Storybrooke, she looked into her rearview mirror and nearly crashed.

Regina stood in the middle of the road, in a black gown, her hair done up, the vitriolic, cruel smile back on her face.

She raised her arm, and a flash of purple careened into Emma's car, making her scream.

She opened her eyes again.

Nothing.

But the damage to her car was severe, and very, very real.

Emma drove back home, not knowing which of the two versions of Storybrooke was indeed the real one.