Author's note: Hey y'all! I know I said I couldn't update till the 23rd, but I only have 1 AP test and didn't feel like studying so here you are, a brand new ch!

Chapter 3

The words echo repeatedly in his head, causing it to throb like a bass drum. The baby's gone. Three very simple words, yet so indicative. Indicative of everything else that could possibly go wrong.

David feels dizzy and nauseous, his brain spinning, trying its hardest to process the statement his wife has just made. For a moment, he'd let himself believe that everything would be ok. How ridiculous that was, to even linger on the hope that the worst was over.

"What?" He asks, panic filling his voice. "B-but I just saw her! She was right next to you." He can feel himself growing more and more desperate. He recalls having seen Emma earlier, lying next to Mary Margaret. Have things gotten so bad, bad enough that his daughter had gotten trampled? For a second, he hopes that by gone Mary Margaret merely means missing. But Emma's absence wouldn't elicit such a strong reaction from his wife.

"This is just a mistake." He says. "You're just confused. Mistaken."

Mary Margaret shakes her head slowly. "Does it look like I'm kidding?" She whispers.

"Is she…dead?" He bites his lip, looking at his wife for confirmation. She nods slowly, tears cutting rivers down her rapidly paling cheeks.

No. He thinks. That's the only word coursing through his mind as he sinks against the wall, his head in his hands. He begins pulling out fistfuls of hair as he hits the cold stone floor, tears already streaming down his cheeks. No. Emma, his daughter, his precious baby girl, is dead. Dead. Gone. He's failed to protect her. The one, job, the most basic thing in the world a father had to do, and he's failed at it. Failed ever since the day Emma was born. By sending her to Storybrooke alone, he'd cursed her to a life alone. A horrible, painful life that no one should ever have to suffer. And now…she's dead. As a result of his actions. There were a thousand different things he could've done. Done to protect her. But he's too late.

He starts shaking uncontrollably, his face buried in his hands as he sobs. Sobs for the daughter he's barely known. The daughter he loved so much. The daughter he hardly spent time with. He feels Mary Margaret sink down next to him, and he places an arm around her. They hold each other, consoling each other as they mourn the loss of the daughter whose life they'd inadvertently cursed.

After about an eternity, he looks up, wiping the tears off with his sleeve. He hears shouts and voices rising, and he knows that despite this tragedy, he still has responsibilities. He has to prevent this from happening to anyone else. And they have to find Emma's body. She deserves a proper burial.

"C'mon." He says gently. "We have to find her." He helps her up, and they stand shakily. Taking her hand, he leads her across the room, bracing himself for the sight of his daughter's dead body. David catches a glimpse of a tall blonde that looks surprisingly like Emma. He rubs his eyes. It's the grief and lack of sleep talking. But then the blonde turns her head, and there's no mistaking that it's Emma.

Sweet, pure relief fills his body as he stumbles backwards, tears pouring down his face again. Only this time, they are tears of joy. "I was right. Emma's not dead." The happiness is palpable in his voice as he breaks out into a smile for the first time that day.

"Yes she is." Mary Margaret argues.

"She's right there." David says, pointing at his daughter. Other than a little messy haired, she appears to be perfectly fine, unhurt and unharmed. She seems particularly angry, but he can deal with that later. Right now he's just so thankful that she's alive.

"Who's that?" Mary Margaret blinks.

David looks at her strangely. "Her." He points at their daughter. "Emma. Over there. She's alive. I was right. You were just mistaken."

"Charming, that's not my daughter." Her voice rises, growing more and more high pitched as she becomes visibly upset. "That's not Emma. Emma's just a baby. Was just a baby." Her voice breaks on the word was.

What?

Something clicks in his mind. He recalls Mary Margaret's use of the words the baby's gone. That's a rather odd thing to call Emma. In fact, he's never heard his wife refer to their daughter as the baby before. It's always been Emma. Except before Emma was born, that is. And then there was the fact that she'd called him Charming. Not David, but Charming. When was the last time she'd called him that? At the very least, not before the curse.

His eyes widen with realization as he puts the pieces together. Could it be possible?

"What are you talking about?" He asks slowly. "Your daughter's not dead, and she's not a baby. She's alive, and she's right there. By the window." He points straight at Emma.

"That's ridiculous." Mary Margaret counters. "She can't be my daughter. She's my age!"

"Yes, but…" A sinking feeling fills his chest as Mary Margaret's words basically confirm his worst fears.

She's forgotten everything. She doesn't remember the curse or anything that happened after it.


What happens next purely happens on an adrenaline rush, as David barely recalls what he does next. Dimly, he is aware that he tells Mary Margaret to stay there. He dashes off, pushing people aside in his desperation to find the two people who can possibly fix this. Restore Mary Margaret's memories. Regina and Gold. The Evil Queen and Rumplestilskin.

The shouts and chaos are growing louder, much like before. He should've known better than to assume that a simple speech would calm people down for long. After all, they are in the middle of a crisis. He hears people call out for him, for his help, but he ignores them, casting aside the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows he has a duty to help these people but right now helping his wife is his priority.

"David!" It's Leroy. "Terrible news!"

"I know, I know." He says absently. "We're stuck back in the Enchanted Forest." He cannot keep the impatience out of his voice. "Now, would you please excuse me? I have bigger problems to deal with."

"No, not that." Leroy snorts. "Dopey's forgotten his Storybrooke life!" He blurts.

The words cause him to stop short. "Wait. What?"

"He's not the only one." Leroy tells him. "Sidney, Marco, Belle, Nova. They've all forgotten!"

His eyes widen as he takes in this fact. The fact that Mary Margaret is not the only one. He tells the dwarf this, and Leroy's scowl deepens further, something David didn't think was possible.

"There you are!" A breathless Ruby comes up to him. "D-David! I was trying to help Granny organize a hunting party when we found out that…"

"That a lot of people lost their Storybrooke memories." David says grimly. "I already know. Mary Margaret has this too."

"What are we gonna do?" She asks. "People are starting to panic again."

As if on cue, they hear the loud sound of breaking glass.

"I don't know." David suddenly feels about eighty years old. Without Mary Margaret to help him, he feels so helpless. Calming people down and organizing them was hard enough. And now this? He runs his hands through his messy hair. For the first time, he thinks about how unfair it is that he has to deal with all of this. What he wouldn't give to be taken care of for once, instead of being forced to come up with solutions to problems he doesn't even completely understand.

"I know." Leroy growls. "Take this straight to the person responsible. Regina!"

"No wait." David holds up a hand. "It wasn't her. But you're right. Maybe she can help."

A small part of him says that this isn't a good idea. Since when was the last time Regina willingly helped them? But what choice do they have, for Gold is even less likely to provide assistance.


For the past several hours, the only words running continuously through Emma's head are the words what the hell. What the hell happened? More importantly, where in the hell is she? Some sort of castle? The last thing she remembers is blowing out that candle back in her apartment. Lighting the match and holding it against the cheerily colored candle poking out of her favorite kind of cupcake. Her 28th birthday, one of the many that she's spent alone. She remembers making that truly pathetic wish that she wouldn't have to be alone for once on her birthday. And after that…nothing. No matter how hard she tries to force herself to recall the events after blowing out that candle, she just can't seem to remember.

Emma looks around, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. She feels herself growing more and more annoyed. All she can tell is that she is in some sort of large cathedral, castle looking type that looks as though it was hit by a large earthquake. The strangest side of all was that the large room she was in looked like a big refugee camp. People were running around in panic, yelling for help.

Absently, she pinches herself again and again for about the fiftieth time that morning. Maybe I've had more to drink than I realized. This has got to be a dream. Right? All of this seems so unreal. The room before her resembles some type of castle from a fairy tale, which is completely ridiculous. The people running around call each other strange names, names that sound like they came straight out of fairy tales. What is with the fairy tale motif?

Speaking of the people. Emma barely holds back a groan as a large group of short looking men comes running up to her, worry etched all over their unfamiliar faces. All day, this has been happening; people keep approaching her with worries and questions, as if they expect her to do something. And she has no idea why.

"Emma!" They approach her. "Dopey's lost all his memories of Storybrooke."

Um, what? What was a Storybrooke? Emma just blinks at this strange looking group. "Do I know you?" She squints. "Did you say Dopey?" She barely holds back a snort, despite her confusion. The idea that Dopey, as in Dopey Dwarf, is real is just too ridiculous to fathom.

"Sheriff!" Someone else calls. "Belle's forgotten too!"

Emma gapes at these people. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about. Do I even know all of you?" Belle? As in…Beauty and the Beast Belle?

One of the short men, a grumpy looking one with a black beard exchanges a look with one of his friends. "Uh oh. Not her too."

"We better tell David."

"Who?" Emma asks. "Never mind." She shakes her head. "Listen, I'm sorry about your problem with…er Dopey." She bites back a grin. "But I have no idea who you are and what you're talking about. I think you're better off finding someone else." She says firmly, using the voice she reserves for creepy foster brothers and lowlifes in alleys.

The group immediately backs off, although the grumpy looking man shoots her a glare as he walks away with the rest of his friends.

Sheriff? Emma thinks. What in the hell were these strange people talking about? Since when is she a sheriff? And why did they act like they know her, when clearly she would remember if she's met them before. Her brain hurts with all of this. All she wants it to be back in her soft bed, sleeping off this obvious alcohol induced hallucination. Away from this weird place with these weird people.

"Emma! There you are!" Someone places their hand on her shoulder. She instantly tenses under the touch, for she knows that hand. That touch.

Neal.

No. Neal? She thinks desperately. Not here, please. Not now. Her breath immediately quickens and she feels her heart start to pound at a speed that is surely not normal. Spots dance in her vision as she whirls around and faces the man before her. The man who ruined the last eleven years of her life. Who single handedly took her heart and crushed it without a single thought. Who just let her go to jail and suffer. The first person who she truly felt at home with, and the last. After Neal, Emma never let herself trust anyone anymore. It was just too risky, too painful.

"W-what are you doing here?" Her voice shakes, and she hates it. If this is indeed a nightmare/hallucination brought on by the alcohol, then fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Lesson learned. Emma thinks grimly. I'll never drink again. Not if it warrants this.

Emma raises her arms and tilts her head back. "Alright, I've learned my lesson. I'll stay away from alcohol for the rest of my life. Can I wake up now?" She is aware of how ridiculous this looks; her face grows hot as she feels the weight of Neal's stare on her. Dammit. Even in an alcohol induced dream he has this affect on her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that when they open, she'll be back at home. Nursing a massive hangover, but at home. Away from all these strange people and him. But as she slowly opens them again, she comes to the realization that this is in fact not a dream. That is reality.

"No." She gasps, a sinking feeling growing deep inside. It makes her feel panicky and out of control, two feelings she's always hated. Suddenly weak kneed, Emma reaches out and touches the wall, as if it's the only thing anchoring her to reality. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? Did you bring me here?" Anger is infused in her voice as the feelings that have been building inside for more than a year are slowly being released. "Haven't you ruined my life enough?" Her voice cracks on the word enough, and she feels hot tears slowly build in her eyes. She blinks them back, forcing them to stay inside.

"Emma. What're you talking about…?" He shakes his head impatiently. "Enough with the theatrics. Henry's missing and I need your help." He grabs her hand. "Come on."

"Get off!" She shakes him off instinctively, yet a small part of her, a part that hates to admit it, craves his touch. "After everything you've done, who the hell do you think you are? You have no right to touch me." Her voice is thick with fury as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, fire igniting in her eyes, her body stiffening with rage.

Part of her is happy to see him. After all, though she'll never admit it, there is just something about him that makes her stomach flutter excitedly. That makes her heart pound. She's missed him, more than she'll ever let herself believe. He was, after all, her first love. The first person she truly let guard down around.

But she reminds herself that Neal is not a good person. That he is the practically the sole reason she's so miserable. And alone. She's certain that she's never hated anyone as much as she hates him at this moment. He just stands there, gaping at her, a confused look on his face.

"Sorry." He mutters. "Force of habit." He looks down, scratching his head awkwardly. "But seriously, come on. Henry's missing."

"Who?" Emma snaps immediately. She sighs. "Alright, listen. I don't know where we are or what you want. People have been coming up to me all day asking for help, acting like they know me, and I don't get why anyone doesn't seem to understand the fact I don't know any of you. I mean obviously I know you, but that's it. I don't know who Henry is, so maybe you'd be better off finding someone else." Emma says, wanting nothing more than to get away from Neal. Their whole exchange has left her feeling vaguely unsettled in a way that she can't explain.

Neal regards her curiously. "Henry's your son." He says slowly.

The room starts to spin as the word son echoes over and over in her head. Son. How does he know that? She had the baby in jail and signed up to give him up for a closed adoption the moment she found out she was pregnant. She hadn't told a soul and the doctors were sworn to confidentiality.

"H-how did you know that?" She feels dizzy and nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with her hangover. "Have you been stalking me?"

"You told me…" He says confusedly. "In New York, remember?"

"What?" Emma gasps. "New York?"

"Emma! What the hell are you doing?" He places her hands on her shoulders. "Look, I get that you're angry at me, but seriously?! Henry might be in danger! We have to find him!" His voice is laced with thick desperation. "Why are you acting like…?" Realization dawns on his face. "…like you don't remember anything?"

Without another word, Neal grabs her by the arm and starts dragging her across the room. "Not you too." He groans. "I better take you to your parents."

Parents?

"Neal!" Emma attempts to shake him off, but his grip is much too strong. He's always been stronger than her. "Parents? You're delusional! Get the fuck off!" She thrashes around, trying to get him to release her, but he is determined as he drags her over to one of the various tents set up around the cavernous room.

As she is hauled through the room, she catches a glimpse of a couple among a group of other people. The man, a tall prince looking type who appears as if he comes straight out of an illustration of a fairy tale, is talking feverishly to a dark haired nun. The woman has short black hair, and she keeps looking down and patting her flat stomach, a pinched up expression on her face, as if she's expecting something to be there. Her chin is startlingly similar to Emma's, and Emma can't help but feel drawn to them.

There is something about the couple that strikes a deep chord inside her. She cannot shake the feeling that she's somehow connected to these people. Especially the worried looking couple. That she's known them for some time. But she has no memory of them.


"Memory loss?" Mother Superior/the Blue Fairy cocks her in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Very." David nods his head vehemently. "She doesn't remember anything the curse or anything that happened after that."

As if on cue, Mary Margaret chimes in. "Curse? What're you talking about?"

"Nothing." David reassures his wife, but he cannot stop the gnawing knot of desperation grow in his stomach. "Don't worry about it."

He continues talking to Mother Superior. He had intended to talk to Regina, but he figures asking the Blue Fairy first wouldn't hurt. "And she's not the only one. I talked to Leroy and he told me that Belle and some others have forgotten too."

"Not just them!" A voice calls, growing louder as it approaches. David turns around to see Neal half dragging Emma towards them, Emma struggling and cursing all the way. Part of him wants to punch that bastard in the face for treating his daughter that way, but the look on Neal's face stops David short as he realizes that Emma's forgotten too.

No. He thinks. Not Emma too.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" David urges Mother Superior.

"I'm afraid I don't." Mother Superior shakes her head. "I would assume that this is a side effect of whatever brought us back, but I don't even know how we were transported…"

He sighs with frustration. Just when he thinks he's got his family back together, his wife and daughter forgets everything.

"I hate to say this, but I think we need to ask Regina or Gold for help." Mother Superior suggests. David nods grimly, but before he can go to find her, the Evil Queen appears in a cloud of purple smoke.

"I wouldn't bother." Regina says, her voice laced with…resignation. Her face is drawn and pale and she appears to be defeated, her figure drooped over. "We've got bigger problems."

"Like what?" David can't help but snap, momentarily forgetting that this time Regina is not the enemy. "My wife and daughter, not to mention countless other people, have lost their memories."

Regina steps up to him, so close their noses are practically touching. "Like the fact that Henry and Gold aren't here."

Author's note: Will try to update ASAP. Promise! In the meantime, plz review! Pretty, pretty please :)