"I still can't believe you let him just wander off!" Regina had been screeching at her nearly nonstop since school let out, but this time Belle didn't entirely blame her. Her fingers itched to proclaim that it wasn't her fault (though she couldn't because Regina didn't really understand her signing anyway) but she understood, at least, why Regina was angry.

Henry was missing and Belle was just as frantic as Regina. She couldn't figure out what had happened. She had walked him to school, like always, and watched him walk into the building. When she returned promptly at three to collect him he was just...gone. She'd gotten more and more nervous as she saw other children being collected by parents or skipping off to the bus and still no Henry. Finally, she'd gone in and found his teacher, Ms. Blanchard. Belle didn't usually like to use notes for people, but she'd made an exception to scrawl a question about Henry's whereabouts on the chalkboard. That was when she found out that Henry had never made it to class.

She'd scoured the town – maybe he'd cut school to go to the arcade – but she couldn't find any hint of Henry. She'd been forced to confess to Regina, who'd summoned Sheriff Graham, who'd been searching since. Belle wasn't sure what to do: nothing ever changed here, nothing was ever supposed to change! Henry was the only person who could, and so if he was gone it meant that he'd left on purpose. He'd left her, he was her only friend and he'd gone. Selfishly, she wished he'd taken her with him, because she couldn't blame him for wanting to leave but she didn't want to be here if he wasn't.

He'd been acting weird lately, and now she knew why. He'd been planning this, and he hadn't even told her. This was her worst nightmare. She had lost everything before, but it still hurt every time.

It was already after dark when Henry finally returned in the company of a blonde woman, but Belle didn't pay any attention to that. His mother hugged him and then handed him off to the sheriff while she spoke to the stranger. Belle wasn't far behind, following them closely and listening as Henry explained to the sheriff that the woman was his birth mother, that her name was Emma Swan, and that he'd run away to find her and bring her back. The sheriff nodded politely double checking that Henry was safe and whole and unharmed.

Belle doubted she was supposed to be here for this, but one thing she'd learned from the last twenty-eight years of silence was that people would forget you were there if you stayed out of their line of sight. In any event, she wouldn't have gone even if he'd told her to, wouldn't let Henry out of her sight until she had reassured herself that he was really okay.

Finally, the sheriff left and Belle glowered at Henry.

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry I left. But I found her!"

I can see that, she signed, coming to sit next to him on his bed. But you scared me to death. What would I do if something happened to you?

"I had to go," he said earnestly.

Why?

He grimaced.

I did it for you, he signed back. For you and everyone else. She can save you, Belle.

Henry signed as fluently as he spoke, but in general he only used it when he was trying to keep a secret.

I'd have come with you, she replied. You shouldn't have gone alone, it was dangerous.

It would have been more dangerous for you, he pointed out. She'd have killed you if you'd helped me, and the curse won't let you leave.

If it's too dangerous for me, it's too dangerous for you.

I said I was sorry, he continued. Can't you just be happy I found her?

It's my job to worry, she signed back. I don't have anyone else, Henry. You should have told me.

"If I'd told you," he said pointedly. "You'd just have tried to stop me."

She stuck her tongue out at him but didn't reply.

Go brush your teeth, she finally said. We can talk about this some more tomorrow.

He nodded, getting up and lingering a moment before hugging her tight around the waist. She didn't even have to think before she hugged him back. No matter how scared she'd been, she still loved Henry more than anything else and she knew he loved her.

He released her with a grin on his face and she waited until she heard the bathroom faucet running before she went and removed his pajamas from the drawer and laid them out on the bed for him.

Henry was safe, at least. And the savior was here now, or at least the woman Henry believed was the savior. Regardless of anything else, the arrival of Emma Swan was new and nothing new ever happened in Storybrooke. Regina would be on a warpath for the next few days, but Belle had a feeling the brunt of her wrath would be saved for Henry's birth mothe, who didn't seem the sort to take that lying down.

Belle just hoped that was a good sign.

The next few days were a blur for Belle. She still took Henry to and from school, but now Emma joined them. She tried not to feel put out as she followed behind mother and son as they whispered conspiratorially to each other, but it was easy to be bitter about it. Emma could speak, and everyone could understand her. Belle had nobody but Henry. Sometimes she'd walk alongside them, listening to their conversation and occasionally tapping Henry to ask him to translate something for Emma, but it was a tedious process and she felt herself slipping into a little bit of a depression the longer it went on.

Through it all, she began to notice Rumpelstiltskin – Mr. Gold, she would mentally correct herself – more often. Perhaps she was noticing him more, or maybe he was changing along with the town, but he seemed to be around now. Never in a strange way, and he didn't seem to notice her, he was always just there. She would see him working on the window display of his shop when she passed it in the morning, or he would linger at the counter at Granny's while ordering a sandwich to-go when she was there for lunch.

She had developed a habit whenever she saw him of fingering the little pendant he'd sold Henry, which never failed to make him glance away shyly. Henry had told her the whole story, and her heart soared. He might not remember, but her Rumple was bleeding through – he'd recognized the necklace at least as being the one she'd worn every day she'd spent with him. She wondered what else he remembered, and entertained idle daydreams of this Mr. Gold coming over and saying hello if the diner was full and asking if he could sit. They wouldn't speak, because he wouldn't understand her, but the silence would be comfortable. It would be a strange sort of friendship, but she could see him enjoying it.

Belle was midway through her favorite of those fantasies – the one where he noticed the book she was reading and would explain his feelings on it, letting her provide whatever input she could communicate and laughing good naturedly when she had to resort to charades to make her point – when Emma sat down unexpectedly across from her. Nobody ever sat with her, people barely acknowledged her. She'd grown used to being invisible.

"So what's your deal?" Emma blurted out.

Belle tilted her head to indicate confusion. Emma couldn't understand her.

"I mean," she clarified, "Henry says you remember the Enchanted Forest."

Belle glanced around them, gesturing to Emma to keep her voice down. The last thing she needed was word getting back to Regina that Belle was encouraging Henry's 'delusions.'

"Why are you encouraging him?"

Belle huffed in her frustration. What did Emma expect from her? Did she just want to keep asking questions that she had no ability to answer?

Emma reached into her pocket and produced a pen and a pad of paper, sliding them across the table.

"I know you can write, Delilah."

Belle picked up the pen, scribbling down one word: no.

"No you can't write?"

I don't write notes.

"Why not? It seems like it would be the easiest way to communicate when someone doesn't understand you."

Belle flagged down Ruby, managing to ask the waitress for a glass of water and staring at Emma blankly until it arrived.

Notes have a way of finding their way back to Regina. She flashed the page to Emma, waiting for acknowledgment it had been read before ripping the page out and dropping it into the glass of water.

"You're that scared of her?" Emma sounded incredulous. "Then why don't you quit?"

I can't quit. If I quit, who takes care of Henry? And where would I go? Nobody here remembers me.

Into the water the page went.

"No friends? Family?"

My father is Moe French, the florist. He doesn't know he has a daughter anymore. My only friend she stopped mid-sentence, scratching the last part out before showing it to Emma and depositing it in her glass with the other two.

Emma looked at her oddly, and Belle knew she was wondering how much of Henry's delusions were caused by the book and how much caused by his nanny, but she said nothing. Belle slid the pad of paper back across the table, but Emma shook her head and stood up.

"It's a gift," she explained. "I think you should reconsider the notes."

Belle thought for a moment before writing down two words on a sheet of paper and handing them to Emma. The other woman could keep this one, she decided. If Henry could take a risk then so could she: I remember.