Author's note: Hey y'all! SO sorry for the long wait! Was super busy with schoolwork, Disneyland trip, prom, and wrapping up stuff before graduation next wk! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Chapter 5

His heart is filled with trepidation as he shoulders his backpack and steps out into the cool, foggy morning. Pretty typical of Storybrooke, yet Henry feels goose bumps crop up on his skin, and he hugs his sweater closer to himself, savoring the bits of warmth inside the thin cotton material. Everything about the morning seems ominous as he sets down the familiar path to school. Even the familiar gray clouds that fill up the sky every morning appear more threatening than usual.

As Henry walks down the sidewalk, he becomes gradually aware of the odd silence. It is so quiet he can hear his every breath and footstep. The shuffling of his sweater as he swings his arms. The bump of his backpack against his body. The jingle of the zippers on his bag. The whistle of the wind in the trees. The gentle scraping of his heels against the gray pavement.

The sounds of his shoes against the sidewalk bring back a dizzying memory. He remembers himself about two years ago. He'd been living with Regina, already on the search for his birth mother. Regina had scolded him for scuffing the bottom of his sneakers, angrily saying that she didn't want him to ruin the shoes she'd spent so much money on. Henry remembers arguing back, the quick snap of anger as he countered that it was just a pair shoes, questioned why she was always so controlling. It was what made him finally start searching for his birth mother.

All throughout his life, he'd known that he was adopted, for Regina never hesitated to tell him. She'd always added that he was special because she chose him and that he would always be loved, that it didn't matter that his birth parents hadn't wanted him.

Henry never believed that story. He could never fathom that his parents hadn't wanted him. No, there had to be an explanation. And that was the beginning of his mistrust of Regina. There was just something about the forced way she'd said that, with a stiff demeanor, that made him start to doubt her. And then Mary Margaret had given him that book of fairy tales, and he'd discovered the truth. The truth that his adoptive mother was evil. That she quite possibly adopted him just to keep an eye on her mortal enemies' descendants.

He'd agonized whether over or not to find his birth mother. What if Regina was right, and she didn't love him? But curiosity got the better of him.

As much as he hates to admit it though, there is a small part of him that holds a soft spot for Regina. She's been his mother for so long, and despite all the lies, he cannot deny that she has mostly been a good mother to him. She'd always tried to give him what he wanted and he knows that she cares about him, that she does love him; she just has a weird way of showing it.

And that's what makes it all so confusing. His love for Regina just complicates everything. He knows that his biological family doesn't want anything to do with Regina, and he completely understands that. After all, she did try to kill them numerous times. And there is so much bad blood between his grandmother and Regina. Many times, Henry almost wished that he could be just like the rest of his biological family, that he could easily forget about all the good that he knows Regina has in her. That he can just let it go. Let her go.

But it's not possible. He has always been one to see the good in people. And as messy as everything is, he cannot make himself hate Regina.

The streets are unusually empty. Completely devoid of people. It is almost as if Storybrooke is a ghost town, and he is the only one in it. For a moment, he briefly wonders if it's Saturday, but then he remembers that even on the weekends, everyone is out and about. Yet Henry continues to convince himself that it's just because it's still early. Everyone will be at school he thinks firmly. I have no reason to worry.

Henry reaches the school in half as much time as it usually takes. He looks around the deserted schoolyard, normally filled with the sounds of screaming children, swinging on the monkey bars, pumping their legs on the swings to reach the sky, trying to make the most out of the remaining minutes before school begins; the chorus of goodbyes from parents as they drop off their kids; the occasional cry of surprise as someone discovers they've left their homework behind. Those are the sounds that Henry associates with his school, the sounds that let him know he's near one of his favorite places.

A finger of doubt slips down his spine as he takes in his empty surroundings. What if something bad really did happen? The streets were empty, and now the school. There is absolutely no logical explanation why everyone is gone.

But Henry maintains that maybe he's just late. In the back of his mind, he registers that there really is something wrong, but he pushes it down. I'm just late. Henry reasons. That's why nobody's here. My watch must've stopped, and they didn't want to wake me up. When I walk in, everyone's gonna be in class.

He walks inside the school, pushing open the heavy wooden doors that are normally held open by a door stop at this time. Again, he tells himself that the doors are closed because he's late. Because the doors are always closed after the first bell rings. He's merely late, nothing more.

The hallways are empty, lifeless. Henry strides through, listening to the shuffle of his shoes against the scuffed floors. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Normally the hallways are filled with the hustle and bustle of his classmates and he wouldn't be able to hear his shoes. But today all is eerily silent.

Maybe everyone's just taking a test. He thinks to himself. That's why it's all quiet. As he passes the closed door of a kindergarten class that usually emits squeals and shouts from behind the thin walls, he thinks, it's just naptime for them. That's why I don't hear anything.

Henry reaches his classroom a few moments later. He can feel his heart pounding, and his palms are sweaty. He realizes that everything hinges on this next moment. When he opens that door, if all his classmates peer at him curiously and Mary Margaret scolds him for being late, he will know all is normal. But if it's empty….

Mentally, Henry steels himself for his grandmother's reprimand; Snow White has never been one for tardiness. I'm sorry. He would begin. My alarm clock didn't go off today. Of course, he wouldn't blame his family for forgetting about him.

Maybe during dinner tonight, he'll complain about being left behind. Yes, I'm going to see them for dinner tonight. We're gonna eat some more of grandma's cooking. Everything's fine. I'm just overreacting. When I open this door, I'll be in trouble for being late. Everyone will stare at me.

Carefully, Henry pushes open the heavy wooden door. His eyes are squeezed shut. He braces himself for the inevitable questioning.

Slowly, he opens his eyes to see that the classroom is…

Empty.


Henry runs from store to store, dashing quickly down the empty sidewalk far faster than he could've ever imagined he could. He can hear the jingle jangle of the zippers on his backpack as his legs pump up and down. His backpack is rocking up and down, and he can feel one shoelace untied, but he does not stop.

No. No, no, no, no, NO! Those are the words coursing through his mind. His eyes had just deceived him. There is no way Storybrooke's empty. No. There's just a...a field trip! It's a school holiday! Anything!

But that doesn't account for why his family is gone. Why the streets are so empty. Why, as he dashes into Granny's, out of breath, the normally full diner is devoid of life.

His mind comes up with a thousand possibilities. A pandemic. Some sort of parade on Main Street. Never mind the fact that he was just on Main Street, and it was just as empty as everything else. A surprise party? It doesn't matter that his birthday just passed. There has to be some explanation.

Henry runs quickly from store to store, knocking on doors and peeking in windows. The bakery. Empty. Archie's. Empty. The animal shelter, the mechanic's, and even Mr. Gold's. Empty, empty, and empty.

He cannot deny it any longer. Everyone is gone, save for him. He is completely alone.


He has a thought. What if this some sort of punishment? For still loving Regina despite all the horrors? Maybe everyone decided they'd had enough of him and just left. But that doesn't really make sense. As angry as his family might get, they wouldn't just ditch him like that.

And then he realizes. What if this is all Regina's doing? He knows that she's wanted him to herself for some time. What if she made everyone disappear?

Without another thought, he leaps up off the curb and starts running down the street towards Regina's house. He doesn't stop to dwell on the fact that if his theory is true, Regina would've come to find him already. She wouldn't just leave him alone and scared.

The trees and sidewalk are nothing but blurs as he sets off for his old house, his feet pounding hard on the sidewalk. Although he's mad that Regina made everyone, especially his family, disappear, part of him is relieved. Relieved that at least he's not alone. Maybe, when he gets to Regina's, he'll reason with her. Try to get her to bring everyone back. It's not fair to him to lose his biological family. He decides that he'll work out a schedule to spend time with both families. Though she'll be angry, he knows that she'll do anything for him. He'll get her to agree.

The path is achingly familiar. He can't remember the last time he's been here. He feels another guilty pang as he approaches his old house. No wonder Regina made everybody disappear. She's really missed him, and he hasn't done anything to make it easier. Sure, she's the Evil Queen. But she loves him. Really, truly loves him. And she did help bring Emma and Mary Margaret back from the Enchanted Forest. She'd been trying to redeem himself, for him, and he just continued to ignore her.

He does deserve this, for the way he's treated his adoptive mother. So he can't exactly be angry with Regina. She always has the most extreme ways of showing her love for him. So what if she's a little possessive? She has every right to be.

Henry steps up to the white house and presses his finger to the doorbell. He hears it reverberate throughout the large house. He waits for the sounds of Regina's heels approach the door, his heart pounding with trepidation.

There is no answer. He rings the doorbell, once, twice, three times more, pressing his ear against the door, keeping his ears peeled for any signs of his mother. Nothing. All is silent, save for his breathing and the chirp of the birds in the background.

"Hello? Mom?" Henry calls, pounding on the door. "It's me!"

Nothing.

That's weird. Henry thinks. What if… He doesn't let himself finish that thought. Because he doesn't want to think about where it leads.

Just then, Henry remembers that Regina's always left a spare key under the rock by the door. Wondering if it's still there, Henry kneels down and lifts up the heavy stone. He is greeted by the silver key. Lifting it to the door with a shaky hand, he turns the knock and steps inside his old house.

"Hello?" Henry calls again, his voice echoing in the vast marble entryway. "Is anybody there? Mom?"

There is no answer.

He reasons with himself that maybe Regina's still asleep, though she's always been an early riser. With a pang, he remembers that she's always woken up early, every day without fail, just to make him a hot breakfast.

He tiptoes around, not wanting to wake her up. The gleaming kitchen, filled with top of the line appliances, a far cry from Mary Margaret's rustic kitchen, has remained the same since the last time he was here. Same bowl of apples on the kitchen island. Even the fridge is still stocked with his favorite orange juice, the expiration date set for next week, as if she's always ready for him.

He peeks into the bathroom, the living room, and the family room. All empty and relatively unchanged. Henry continues upstairs. He sees that his door is halfway closed, and he cannot help but go inside. Everything is just as he left it, except the bed is made. He's forgotten how much he's loved this room, everything tailored to his liking. At Mary Margaret's he sleeps in what used to be his grandma's office. Aside from the picture on the wall, he has no personal artifacts there.

Next stop, Regina's room. Her door is closed, just as she leaves it every night. Tentatively, he knocks on the door, not really wanting to wake her up.

"Mom?" He whispers. No reply. "Hello?" He tries again, this time a little louder.

He waits for the telltale squeak of the bed that he'd hear as she got up. Nothing. No shuffle of footsteps, rustle of blankets, or yank of her robe from its hook on the door. Absolutely nothing.

Cautiously, he turns the doorknob and steps into his mother's bedroom. His heart fills with a sickening dread as he takes in the empty room before him. She's not sleeping in the big bed, a bed that he used to love to jump on. A bed that, on a handful of occasions, Regina actually let him jump on.

Maybe she's gone to find him. Maybe she thought he'd freak out over everyone's disappearance and is waiting for him back at Mary Margaret's. It's a pretty farfetched possibility, but at this point he is willing to believe anything. Weirdly enough, the bed isn't made. Instead, it looks just as though it's sleeper up and disappeared during the night. He knows Regina well enough to know that she always makes her bed every morning. But maybe she neglected to do it in her haste to find him.

On his way out of her room, he nearly trips over something. Regina's phone, plugged into its charger in the outlet by the door, just like she leaves it every night. She would never leave without her phone. Maybe she'd leave her bed unmade, but he knows with an absolute certainty that she would never leave her phone behind.

He was wrong. Regina's not here. Everyone is really, truly gone.


Alone. He's alone. Everyone is gone. He's the last person left in Storybrooke. Might as well be the whole world, since to him Storybrooke is his whole world.

How could this happen? Why would everyone just leave him? He has a strong feeling that everyone disappeared against their will. There is no way his family would just ditch him. Maybe they'd accidentally forget about him, Home Alone style, but an entire town?

There has to be some sort of magic at play. But the only people he can think of who posses magic are Regina, Gold, and the Blue Fairy. And they're all gone.

He shivers, hugging his sweater tighter to himself. Without his family, the apartment feels like a freezer. There are a thousand emotions coursing through him. Why did this happen? It wasn't like he had this huge blowout fight with his family and wished for everyone to disappear. As far as knew, yesterday had been a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He'd gone to school, come home, done his homework, ate dinner, and went to bed.

Suddenly, without warning, Henry grabs the nearest object and flings it against the wall. The vase shatters into a thousand pieces, the pathetic sight an epitome of what he is feeling. And then he is hurling everything within reach against the wall, smashing glasses, breaking pencils, ripping up papers, emptying bottles. He tears sheets off beds, rips pillows in half, filling the air with whirling feathers, knocks pictures off shelves. Books are torn and curtains are ripped from their windows. The floor becomes littered with the effects of his rage, grief, and confusion.

All the while, the words why and how are echoing throughout his mind. Every question is punctuated with yet another crash or shatter. Why did everyone disappear? How could this happen? Why was he left behind? He feels broken, hollow. He could feel a scream building up in his throat but he can't let it out. Nothing feels right and he doesn't know what to do anymore.

Upstairs, nothing is left unharmed. He stomps into his room, destroying everything in sight. Ripping up schoolwork and dirtying his sheets with angry footprints.

And then, he sees the photo and stops short. The photo above his wall. Him, Emma, Mary Margaret, and David. His mother, grandmother, and grandfather. His family. Their smiling faces grin down at him, seemingly mocking him, reminding of him of everything he desires. A physical reminder of his pain. He laughs ruefully. So much for his belief that the picture would keep things from going bad.

He is about to rip that photo into a million pieces but cannot bring himself to do so. Slowly, Henry sinks down to the floor, the first glistening tear already making its way down his cheek, and cries.

Author's note: Plz review! I promise I'll try to update ASAP. Just remember...more reviews=faster update :)