Author's note: For some reason I always have the biggest case of writer's block when it comes to this story.

Chapter 18

"There was a seer. Long ago. She told me that a young boy would reunite me with my son." Gold recounts shakily. He and Henry are seated on the kitchen floor, neither of them having the urge to move.

"That's me." Henry says, remembering the events of that fateful day in Manhattan.

Gold nods. "She also said that the boy would be my undoing. A-at the time, it hadn't even occurred to me that the boy would be you. My grandson."

"I'm your undoing." Henry realizes. "You're going to die because of me." He says sadly.

"I'm not going to deny that at the time I thought all I had to do was kill that boy." Gold bows his head.

"So that's why you invited me over. To kill me." Henry's eyes widen. "You were going to kill me!" He backs up rapidly, scooting on the floor.

"Yes. I was." Gold admits. "I-I'm a coward. Self preservation has always been a nasty habit of mine. And it's cost me so much. My son…" His voice cracks as tears pool in his eyes. "I've lost my son. I'll never see him again."

"Yes, you will." Henry insists.

"No." Gold shakes his head sadly. "I won't."

"Yes, you will." Henry repeats.

"You don't know that." Gold says harshly.

"I do. Because if you don't see your son again, I'll never see my family either."

They sit for a moment, ruminating in everything that has gone wrong.

"Mr. Gold?" Henry pipes up. His grandpa looks up.

"A-are you still going to kill me?" Henry asks cautiously. He knows that his grandfather isn't exactly known for a warm and sunny disposition.

"No." Comes the answer. "No. I can't."

"Why?" Henry asks, curious. "If I'm your undoing, why not?"

"Because you're my grandson." Gold answers simply. "The last remaining connection I have to my son. I've messed everything up with him and as a result I've hurt him so badly. I can't fix things with him. I might not even see him again, and the only way I can make it all up to him is to take care of you. I'm willing to die if it means protecting you."

Henry, being the insightful boy he is, nods quietly. "Ok."

They smile, albeit awkwardly, at each other. It's a start. A small start, but a start nonetheless.


Emma glares at the fire, randomly throwing stones at it, enjoying the angry hiss it makes as the stones hit the flames. In the background, she can vaguely hear Mulan and Aurora talking about their friend, who they've been talking about every night. This story is about how they fought alongside this friend and her mother along a pirate and some witch named Cora. It would've been very interesting if Emma hadn't been focused on the events of the day.

Pop. Hiss. How dare he just show up like that. Another stone hits the fire.

The worst part was, she hadn't even realized how much she still loves him until he showed up. And that is what is making her the most furious. He'd screwed her over, basically forced her to give up her son, her only chance at a happy ending, yet she still loves him.

How pathetic is that?

"…remember how he almost dropped my heart into the portal?" Aurora was saying as she roasts a small cube of meat on a long stick, holding it over the hissing fire.

"Yeah." Mulan replies. "But then he retrieved it in time."

Emma focuses her attention on them, knowing that if she dwells on the events of the day any longer she'd probably burst into tears, which would bring on a round of concerned looks and words, something that Aurora had already tried earlier but Emma had brushed off. She did not need someone babying her.

"And then you gave Mary Margaret your sword right?"

"Yes, because it deflected Cora's magic."

Cora. For the past several nights, Mulan and Aurora have been talking nonstop about their friend, her mother, and this witch named Cora. For some reason, Emma has conjured an image of an older, dark haired lady in a blue dress with a very steely calm, yet sinister stare. And then there's the pirate. Hook or whatever. Instead of the traditional Captain Hook with the red tunic and the perm, she keeps picturing a flirty man clad in all leathers. Instead of a figment of her imagination, it seems as though she inherently knows what these people look like. Except how is that possible?

"You know, I think your stories are starting to get to me." Emma comments. "I'm starting to dream about them."

If she'd only looked up she would've seen the slight look of triumph passed between the two.

"Really?" Aurora asks eagerly. A little too eagerly in Emma's opinion. "You are?"

"Yeah. It's weird. I see myself doing all the things that your friend did. Climbing the beanstalk, running from trolls. What're you doing, trying to brainwash me or something?" She jokes.

"Something like that." Mulan replies. "I can see its working." She says lightly, a small smile crossing her normally serious face. It's probably meant as a joke, but a moment it feels as though she's being serious.

Another furtive look between the two, and suddenly Emma explodes.

"Ok, that's enough." She snaps, pushing herself up. She paces around their makeshift campsite. "What the hell's going on?"

Mulan opens her mouth to respond, but Emma, on a roll, presses on and completely steamrolls over her. "Save your excuses. I wasn't born yesterday. I know you're up to something. All those stories, all those cryptic little comments, all the little looks. Tell me what's going on." She demands impatiently.

There is a long, drawn out, tense silence. And finally, Aurora speaks. "All right fine." She takes a deep breath, seemingly preparing herself for the weight of what she is about to reveal. "Neal was telling the truth."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I have a son I gave up for adoption." She snorts. "I know."

"That's not what I mean." Aurora continues. "He was telling the truth about your parents."

Abruptly, Emma stops pacing. Parents. Vaguely, she remembers something about them mentioning her mother. They'd brushed it off as a misunderstanding, but she'd never been convinced. "You mean that they are back at the castle or whatever? That I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?" Her voice takes on a sarcastic tone. "You're as delusional as he is."

But their serious expressions say otherwise. "No. He was telling the truth."

No. This isn't happening. She's not the daughter of fairytale characters. "That's crazy. They're just stories!" Emma protests.

"Maybe for you, but they're quite real. You thought we were stories too, but as you can see that's not quite true."

Speechless. She is speechless. "Ok, so let's just say that you're right. What does that have to do with anything?"

Slowly, they launch into a tale that makes her head begin to spin. Apparently she and everyone else in the castle have come from somewhere named Storybrooke, which is a town in somewhere they call "her land" and she's been here, in the Enchanted Forest, before with her mother, Snow White aka Mary Margaret. And oh yeah, she's lost all her memories which is why she can't remember any of this.

"That's…insane." Emma responds as they grow quiet, looking expectantly at her. "That's fucking insane."

"It may sound that way, but I assure you that it's quite true. And I think part of you knows that it's true too. Those dreams you've been having? They're not dreams. They're memories." Mulan shoots back.

"Still…" It can't be true. Can it? It's something straight out of a seriously twisted movie. The ironic thing was that when she was little, she'd always dreamed of being whisked away by fairy tale characters. And now she's learning (for the second time apparently) that it's all true.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but believe us." Aurora says. "You have to go back to your family."

And surprisingly, Emma agrees. Maybe this is the answer to all of those strange dreams and déjà vu moments and niggling doubts she's been having. As strange as it all sounds…. "Ok." She says. "I'll go back."

Author's note: So, um, is anyone still reading this? If so I'll def continue writing. But if not...