Author's Note: Many apologies for the long time between updates. My only excuse is that another plot bunny decided to take center stage and wouldn't give up the spotlight to this one until I'd gotten a few chapters on paper. So, if you're enjoying this, please check out my other tale, which will be alternating updates with this one.

It's called "Sparrows and Nightingales" and is a pure OUAT story, using the same narrative structure of the show - a Storybrooke tale interlaced with a complimentary one in FTL. The premise is that after the curse breaks Regina makes a visit to the wishing well, only to accidentally wipe her memory. With no memory of anything that's happened since she and Daniel decided to elope, Emma, Snow, James and the royal court must decide how to dole out justice to a Regina with no memory of what she's done. Meanwhile, in FTL, it's Cora's origin story, and what happened to her after Regina becomes queen. All this is interlaced with my own theories of what we'll be seeing in season 2.

Ok, enough plugging. Thanks again to all the reviewers. They keep me motivated to update more frequently when I know someone's waiting for them. :)

Chapter 7: Fumbling Towards Family

"And from what Paige and my husband have told me... he just faded away." Piper blinked back tears as she finished recounting the story that she'd never really had to tell before, which refreshed the emotional wounds in ways she'd never had to deal with.

Snow placed her hand over the Piper's, which rested on one knee, and shook her head. "I... I know it sounds awful, but now all I can think is that I'm glad I haven't had to deal with that."

Piper shrugged as the last of her unshed tears cleared from her vision. "And I'm glad that I still have all those years back... It all has its own price, I guess. That Chris isn't the one I'm raising, any more than the evil version of my other son. But just the same, I'll never get him back."

Snow nodded. "Just as I'll never get those 28 years... her childhood, back... you still do believe in happy endings don't you?"

Piper cocked her head to one side considering everything she's seen. At the end, what she truly clung to was meeting her future self and that Scrabble game. A nostalgic smile slowly spread across her face. "I do..." She sighed. "And hey, look at it this way, you two can retire with Emma - form a shuffleboard team or something. You haven't lost any time – just a lot of dirty diapers," Piper said with a smirk.

Snow returned the look and sat back into her chair. "I suppose so... but I'd deal with all the diapers in this world and mine if it meant getting back... getting all of it back. So many firsts..."

Piper regarded the raven-haired woman, who for all intents and purposes, was both younger than her, yet had technically lived enough years to be her mother. "When all this is sorted out... whatever the outcome... she doesn't have to be the only one."

Snow looked down, watching her own hands clasp each other. "But she'll always be special... in an entirely different way." She looked up at Piper again, her brows furrowed in worry. "Is that even fair to do to another child – or Emma for that matter? Their big sister, old enough to be their mother, who saved us all. That's a long shadow. And Emma... watching our child grown up with the life she should have had..."

"I'm sure Emma would understand. I'm not saying it would always be easy for her, but she has Henry. And if she ever plans on settling down, she'll be facing the same questions as you. She'll understand." Piper offered a reassuring smile. "As for another child down the road..." She shrugged. "I know it seems like you love Emma so much, you can't conceive of having room in your heart for another. But you will. Every kid is special. And truth be told, I was worried about the same thing with my first. Wyatt was foretold as a child of great power – the new King Arthur if you can believe it – so believe me when I say I know how you feel. But Chris - well, you know what Chris did, and Melinda..." She shook her head. "It's the definition of comparing apples to oranges. They're all amazing in their own way. You won't know how much love a heart can hold until they worm their way in there."

Snow's face took on a reflective, lopsided, smile. "Oh, I think Henry has shown me..."

"He's quite the kid," Piper agreed, smiling. "And hey, he's got plenty of firsts left."

"How did you do it?" Snow asked abruptly.

Piper shrugged but Snow's expression of worry and suppressed panic quickly made her realize she couldn't simply gloss over the whole affair as she had with everyone - including herself. She sighed. "To be honest, I think ... I don't know. It just sort of happened? Even after I knew the truth - that this grown man was my son, I didn't really 'deal' with it. In fact, it was harder than anything, at first. It didn't help that Chris spent weeks avoiding me after that. You're lucky with Emma in that way. I was convinced I was some kind of horrible mother to him... when it turns out I died when he was just 14." She shook her head. "Which just means I abandoned him, really." She looked up at Snow. "My mom died when I was 5."

Snow put her hand over Piper's and squeezed. "Me too."

Piper nodded. Much like most fairy tales, Snow White's whole story was set in motion by the absence of a mother, but this was the first time Snow was a real person, and a sudden feeling of kinship with the woman fluttered in her heart. "This is probably weird to hear, but your story was always my favorite."

Snow raised an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me it's because of the cutesy singing," Snow groaned.

Piper laughed. "Uh, no." She shrugged. "My Grams always said that fairy tales were records of great battles between good and evil. But your story was never about that for me."

"Not as weird as it should be," replied Snow as she realized that what Jefferson had told Emma about holding two sets of memories in your head was just as maddening as he'd said. On the one hand, she could remember growing up a princess, but on the other, she remembers reading Snow White's tale, as well as watching the movie as a kid. Or rather, remembers that it happened without being able to picture it. She'd played it for her students on rainy days but had no idea why. The film was inexplicably irritating, yet she was drawn in every time, and couldn't help herself from watching it. Now, of course, she knew why. It was her story - told in the most sickeningly simplified way possible. She didn't blame Emma for not believing in that kind of world. The image of Grumpy watching his cartoon self blush at the slightest attention from herself suddenly popped into her head and it almost made the existence of that film worthwhile. "So, what was it about for you?" asked Snow.

"Family, replied Piper simply. "I lost my mother when I was very young, and I know that's a recurring theme in fairy tales, but in Snow's, er, your case, you don't just stay ostracized. You go out and build your own family, and get your happy ending by not letting it all change whom you are. Plus, I liksd to bake too," Piper added the last flippantly, trying to keep the hero worship vibe to a minimum.

Snow cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "I wonder... I think that just might be why I like the Brady Bunch." She shot Piper a wry smile. "When I was a girl I think I'd have given anything for that kind of step-family."

Piper nodded - she knew the fantasy all too well. "I made a promise to myself a long time ago that if I ever had kids, they'd never have to experience the heartbreak of losing a parent." She let out a bitter laugh. "Boy did I fail that test."

Snow furrowed her brow and tilted her head to one side. "You can't blame yourself for that. And you know now. It doesn't even have to happen!"

The bitterness fell away from Piper's face, leaving only a wistful regret in her eyes. "Still... he experienced it. That Chris lived it, and it turned him into a hardened, neurotic when he was barely old enough to be called a man. Whatever goodness was left in Wyatt was destroyed by it... I failed them all."

"Oh, you-" began Snow, in an attempt to comfort the woman. She knew that feeling of guilt all too well.

Piper waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I know what you're going to say, and I've dealt with it. I've seen my... happy ending."

Snow shook her head. "This may sound terrible, but I'm still envious, in a way. He got to have you before you were gone. He knew you as a mother when you met. Emma... she doesn't know how to be a daughter anymore than I do a mother. Where do we even start?"

"Phoebe and Paige could speak to that better than me. Neither of them had a single memory of our mother. Hell - Paige had to be given up as an infant, just like Emma, and didn't even grow up in our family. But you'd never know it, seeing her with our mom now."

Snow sat back, ruefully. "And Regina called this a terrible land. I can't tell you what I'd have given as a girl to see my mother just once more; even now, there are few things I wouldn't trade for that opportunity."

Piper nodded. "From what I've seen, the mother-daughter thing will come eventually. It's already there in its own way. At least it did for my sisters. Unfortunately, there are only four things I can advise you on for certain."

"At this point I'd be happy with just being pointed in any direction. After all, there are no maps to follow when you're the first to explore it, right?" She tried to laugh lightly but the sound caught in her throat, twisting it into a nervous quiet chuckle. "So, what can you tell me?"

"First off, make talking to you as easy as possible. That means she shouldn't feel judged when she comes to you. If she does, that's one door closed in a room with no windows. She nearly backed out of waking you up right away, because she was scared you'd be disappointed in her."

Snow shook her head emphatically. "I could never! I mean - we did get in a fight the other day, over her almost leaving Storybrooke with Henry, but I wouldn't... I accused her of backsliding." Her shoulders dropped. "Which I'm sure means to her I didn't think she was a good person before. How could I be so... callous?"

Piper gave Snow a reassuring look. "You were being a mom - even if you didn't know it yet. Like I said, it's all in here," she said, tapping two fingers over her heart. "But that does bring me to number two - and I can't emphasize this enough; give her her space. You're not just room mates now, and everything you say, every action, will be perceived through that lens. So, even something as simple as asking how a date went will be seen as 'mom' checking in - not Mary, looking for some vicarious juicy gossip. We went through that with Paige when she moved in. She'd never had siblings before, and didn't know how to handle people caring about how she lived her life. It took her years to figure out how to be a part of a family without feeling like she was losing herself - and we're just her sisters; not her mother. And if there's anyone more independent-minded than Paige, I'd guess it'd be Emma." Snow smiled ruefully. A confusing mix of pride and shame - a feeling getting far too familiar already - blossomed in Snow's chest. Her daughter was amazingly independent, and she'd overcome a lot without losing her compassion, but she wouldn't have needed to if it weren't for her decisions.

"Thirdly, and this ties point number two, don't try to keep making up for lost time. Build memories? Sure. But drill her about her last 28 years, and all you'll be accomplishing is Emma reliving a lifetime of painful memories that happened because of a choice you made when she was born." Piper gave her an apologetic look, but continued. "No offense. Whether she blames you for that decision or not, it'll only result in you smothering her in an effort to give her all the things you couldn't when she was growing up." A memory of 'grandpa' Victor taking Chris out for steaks and cigars flashed in her mind. "I think the biggest thing Chris taught me was that we, as parents, want to give our kids the world; especially if we've brought sadness into their lives. And you can do that when they're kids, but once they grow up, all they really remember is the time with family."

"All I ever wanted to give her was the mother I never had," replied Snow quietly.

Piper nodded sympathetically. "I know the feeling. Look, what I'm trying to get at is that apologizing for every skinned knee and lonely birthday isn't what they want or need. They just want you to be there; to talk when they need it now. But more importantly, focus on building new memories. The best moments always appear organically - not planned to death. Of course, that's one I'm still learning." A small smile played across her face.

Snow nodded as she realized she'd already started mentally filing a list of activities she'd planned on sharing with Emma; some simple things her daughter had missed growing up in this realm, some she'd planned since she found out she was pregnant. Horseback riding, a skill any adult in her kingdom learned as a child, could wait. Cooking Emma her favorite meals from her own childhood in the enchanted forest; showing her the same forest as only she could, archery, the list went on. But she realized those were all about her and what she and James had missed. Emma could ask when she wanted to know about where she came from, and Snow trusted her daughter would, eventually. Imagining Emma and herself simply having a girl's night in with movies, wine, and a decadent dessert, suddenly seemed much more appropriate. Getting to know her as her real self, not the pollyanna construct of Mary Margaret who hadn't ever had to make a hard decision until Emma came to town. Maybe even getting Emma to open up in a way that family does. Sure, she'd called Snow family before the curse was broken, and it has warmed Mary for reasons she couldn't understand, but things had been so crazy - with the trial and its aftermath - that they hadn't really had any quality time since the pronouncement. She shook her head clear of the regrets, and realized she didn't know how long she'd been staring off into space. "I'm sorry, I just...

"It's alright. This is all a lot," replied Piper with a warm smile.

"So.. the fourth thing?" asked Snow.

"The fourth thing?..." Piper leaned in and smiled conspiratorially. "Disregard numbers one through three whenever you want; sometimes that's just a mom's prerogative."

Snow laughed. "Good - I've never been one for.. always coloring inside the lines."

"Lucky for us, I think Henry takes after you."

"Who do I take after?" called out Henry. The sound of the front door closing, which the two women hadn't noticed opening, punctuated his question. Henry dropped his backpack full of pajamas and a change clothes, and bounded up to Snow. He came skidding to a halt in front of her as she stood up, and looked up, studying her face. "So... should I call you Miss Blanchard, or... something else?"

Snow crouched down on one knee, putting herself eye level with the boy, and smiled ruefully. "What do you think?"

"It's really true, you're not just playing along right?"

Snow nodded gently. "You were right all along, Henry." The boy quickly snatched her up into a baby bear hug, which she gladly returned. Her reunion with Emma was, and would be, complicated. But for all she regretted about their circumstances, she'd known Henry since he'd started going to school - and she'd been his only surrogate family for almost as long as Mary Margaret could remember. This reunion was easy; the only thing that would change is what he called her.

Emma, who had come in to stand behind Henry, crossed her arms as she watched the display, and tried to keep the guilt in her heart from reaching her eyes. It was the least she could do for Henry after everything else. 'After not believing in him,' her own voice echoed in her head. She knew better than most that adults could leave scars on a child's heart with even the simplest thoughtless statement. She never should have let Henry know she didn't believe in him. He shouldn't have to double check that his own family wasn't just humoring him.

When the pair broke their hug, both immediately looked to Emma, their features such a startlingly mirrored smile of the other that she wondered how she'd not believed from day one. Snow and Henry looked at her with such love the pain in her heart swelled. It took Emma a moment to realize it wasn't a pang of guilt - it had been washed away under a wave of such pure love that it actually hurt. Yet another thing she'd always thought was a myth that she'd have to mentally refile as real. 'Next it'll be love at first sight,' she thought to herself.

Snow stood up, though she kept a hand on Henry's shoulder. Henry, still a ten year old boy above all else, quickly moved on, oblivious to the look still being shared between mother and daughter. "Hey! What should I call you, anyway?"

"Well, she is your grandmother..." offered Emma mischievously. Snow's eyes narrowed into slits at Emma, even as she couldn't keep the smile completely off her lips.

Henry, not seeing the humor, simply scrunched his nose at this and examined Snow. "Nah..." He shook his head. "She's way too young to be called granny - and anyway, we've already got one granny in town!"

The three women laughed at the boy's logic, with Snow giving Henry an especially pleased look. "Thank you Henry. I'm glad you think so - and for that..." She made the quick trip into the kitchen and retrieved a tupperware container full of cookies from the pantry. "You get dessert before dinner."

Henry's face lit up. "Alright!" He quickly joined her at the counter, hopping up onto a stool.

Emma crossed her arms, knitting her brow ever so slightly. "Mare - I don't know. We're on slippery enough footing with Regina as it is, and the one thing she told me not to do was spoil Henry and-"

Snow cocked her head one side. "And do you always do what Regina commands?" She wrapped both hands around her mug of lukewarm cocoa and took a slow sip, her eyes peering intently at Emma over the mug.

Emma rolled her eyes, but immediately smiled. "I'll get the milk." Snow set out four glasses as Emma retrieved the milk from the refrigerator. "Don't go thinking I don't know what you just did there," added Emma as she poured.

Snow flung a hand to her chest over-dramatically. "Perish the thought!"

Piper settled in next to Henry, taking the offered milk before grabbing a cookie. "Unfortunately, I believe there's something in the family handbook that says all the fun parts of parenting go to the aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You know how happy I was when my sisters had children and I finally got to spoil their kids back?"

"Where are they anyway?" asked Henry. "I had some questions about magic for Operation Cobra!"

"They went to go check on Regina's mausoleum for clues," replied Piper.

"Speaking of," interjected Emma. "I think we can safely say she wasn't setting a trap. Jefferson broke into her mansion."

"It was awesome - I didn't even know the Queen could fight!" At the looks on the three women's faces Henry pulled back his enthusiasm a bit. "I mean, you know, it was just like a movie."

"Except this is very real and very dangerous, Henry," replied Snow gently, but firmly. "Jefferson is a desperate man willing to do desperate things."

"And you could've gotten hurt... or worse," added Emma quietly. The whole mom thing was still new, but she was trying to treat Henry the way she'd wanted to be treated when she was his age. Just forbidding things without a reason, and having those rules change with every new foster family, was what pushed her into rebelling in the first place - and she was pretty sure it was Regina's arbitrary rules and punishments with no explanation that drove Henry right down fairy-tale lane to begin with, doing herself in without even knowing it. "You believed before any of us that the stories in that book were real, right?" Henry nodded. "Which means you need to understand - I mean really make it real in your heart, and not just your head, that every terrible thing in that book happened. The people that died, like Snow's father, were just as real as Graham." She couldn't help but shoot at look at Snow, as if to apologize, but her would-be mother was too engrossed in Henry to seem to have paid much mind to her comment. Or maybe she was past the real pain of losing her father. She wasn't really sure how long ago that was to Snow. She returned her attention to Henry. "Do you know why I need you to do that?"

Henry was looking at his cookie, idly breaking off little crumbs with his thumb at the scolding. He nodded and looked up. "I don't want you to get hurt either," he finally replied in a small voice. Graham was the first person he'd ever known who had died in the little town that time forgot, and suddenly he felt shame for treating the whole curse thing more like a grand adventure, rather than the serious matter of life and death that it was.

Emma smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry kid, I'm not going anywhere. Family sticks together."

"No matter what," added Snow. "Don't you ever doubt it."

"Is this the part where you break into song?" asked Emma; deflect the situations that left her feeling emotionally vulnerable had been a habit for too long to break instantly. She was promptly met with a swift dishtowel to the face. "Hey!"

Snow raised a sardonic eyebrow and crossed her arms. "You're lucky that's the worst I did. You wouldn't like me when I'm singing."

"Why? Can I blame you for not being able to carry a tune?" asked Emma.

"No, you can blame James for that. But I'm not really the singing type. It tends to come with the urge to kill adorable forest animals," replied Snow, thinking back to how she'd nearly killed an innocent bluebird - never mind how badly she'd treated the dwarves - after she'd taken Rumpelstiltskin's potion.

"What?" asked Emma.

"Yeah... I don't think Mr. Disney would have sold so many tickets to see the real story..." added Snow lightly as she began to tidy up. She paused for a second, considering something. "Well... not as a kid's movie anyway." Emma and Piper exchanged an amused, if puzzled, look.

"Is that after you took the forgetting potion?" asked Henry.

Snow nodded. "That book may be the most accurate version of what happened in our world, but it's still missing a lot of the little things."

"Like what?" asked Henry eagerly.

Snow rested her elbows on island kitchen counter and leaned closer to Henry, and her manner suddenly took on a more serious tone. "A book will tell you how something happened, but only the people who lived through it can tell you why. Regina wasn't born evil... and I may have been more like the Disney Snow White as a girl than I like to admit, but that's not what matters. It's the details are the most important lessons."

Henry thought for a moment. He'd always appreciated that Mary Margaret didn't talk down to him simply because he was a kid. "So, like, when I fell off my bike and scraped my knee up real bad, I either had the choice to never ride again, and stay scared, or I could get back on and just remember be more careful?"

"Basically, yes - what you decided isn't as important as why you made that decision, and what you learned from it. That's what affects how you make similar decisions for the rest of your life. I''ve seen you on your bike, so you tell me; why did you decide to try again? "

"The evil... " He reconsidered this. "My Mom... told me that the I should never give up on what I want to do in life. And the only way to do that was to try again." It wasn't the evil queen that had kissed his knee and given him the confidence to try again with one simple hug that day. It had been the Regina that was his mother.

Snow smiled at Henry, though her eyes were distant for just a moment. "She told me something very similar once, too. Now think, why would she bother to teach you such a thing?"

"Because she cares?" answered Henry with some uncertainty.

Snow nodded. "Somewhere in there is the same loving young lady who had her heart broken in the cruelest way imaginable. It doesn't make her choices since then okay, but caring to understand why someone does what they do is what separates good from evil. And why vengeance is wrong."

"But didn't you want to kill the Queen before? You tried to, anyway."

Snow gave him a patient smile, much like he'd seen on her face during a particularly challenging lesson in class. "Right. All the good in our hearts come from the love built by all those little reasons 'why'. Have you stopped to wonder why during everything Regina put me through as Mary Margaret, the worst I could manage feeling for her was pity?"

"I have," Emma piped up, only half-jokingly. This earned her a glare that clearly yelled 'not helping' from Snow and her mind's eye suddenly conjured up visions of what being a teenager with this woman as her mother could have been like. Emma threw up her palms in silent apology and she saw the briefest flicker of amusement in the other woman's eyes. 'Softy. I knew it,' she concluded to herself.

Snow took Henry's hand to refocus him. "It was because the curse took our memories and not our hearts. Now that I have my memories back, I know we need to stop her, and I know how. But at the root of that is stopping her because she'd hurt everyone I care about. It gives me purpose, but not vengeance. As lonely as Mary Margaret 's life was for me, the love that makes up my heart always found a purpose, and a place to go."

"Like your students," concluded Henry.

"Exactly. And a life full of injustices have left a hole in Regina's heart so big, even you sweetie, can't fill it. But the fact that she even tried means there's something left inside."

"Why didn't she do that with you back when she could? I mean, you wanted her to be your mother ..."

Snow sighed. "I don't really know Henry. I've asked myself that many times over the years. Jiminy once said it was because I reminded her of what she'd lost - even if she didn't blame me at first, he thinks she blames me for rubbing salt in the wound."

"Well, Jiminy would know best about that kinda thing," Henry declared. "After all, even Gepetto hasn't totally forgiven him for accidentally turning his parents into puppets. And he's one of the good guys."

"Wait - what?" asked Emma.

Henry shrugged. "It's in the book. You really should read it."

"I'm getting to understand that," Emma replied slowly.

Snow nodded. "He's said in passing that he owed Gepetto a great debt. He never mentioned it was so..." She sighed. "We're going to have to have a talk when he wakes up."

"But what do you mean Gepetto hasn't forgiven him?" asked Emma. "Isn't Jiminy Cricket supposed to be Pinocchio's conscience?"

Henry nodded. "Well, yeah, but he was Geppetto's conscience before that. But what he said to Jiminy when he tried to stop him from putting Pinocchio in the wardrobe, I don't think he's totally forgiven him."

Snow shot straight up in her seat. "Wait - he what?" she cried.

"Pinocchio went through the wardrobe too," replied Henry matter-of-factly. At Snow's blanched face he shrunk back. "No one told her yet, did they?" Emma simply gave him a blank look. "Oh, you didn't read that part yet, either?"

Emma placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah... that hadn't exactly come up yet. Was Pinoccio coming with me not part of the plan?" she asked Snow. With everything going on she hadn't had the time to consider what a strange decision that would have been.

"Never! The Blue Fairy told us only one could go through the wardrobe!" She turned to Emma. "Pinnochio was a dear little boy to James and I, but he was just that. A child! I would never have let you go through alone if I thought more than one person could!" The outrage in her voice was palpable; the type of outrage she'd only heard from Mary Margaret when she'd nearly left Storybrooke with Henry - and she was glad she wasn't on the receiving end this time.

Henry had used this as an excuse to make a hasty retreat; truth be told, the Snow part of her was more intimidating than he'd thought she'd be. He quickly found the book, and laying it out on the counter, flipped it to the right page. "Here, see? It's from the part August added in..."

"August?" asked Snow, surprise tempering her tone. "Why would he add to the book?"

"He's Pinocchio," replied Henry.

Snow raised an eyebrow, all anger forgotten at the moment. "The stubble-wrapped typewriter is Pinocchio?" she asked incredulously.

Emma nodded. "Yeah... weird huh? He's the one who brought the Halliwell sisters here, and told us we needed to wake you up."

Snow scanned the page of the book retelling the last moments before Pinocchio was sent through the wardrobe, forcing herself to calm down, only to find it ended the moment she disappeared from inside the enchanted device. She shook her head, her jaw set in simmering anger. "If he'd just had faith in us... how could he think a boy who hadn't even been real for a full year yet could do a better job protecting the saviour than her own parents?" she whispered under her breath.

Emma bit her bottom lip, not sure about how she felt about this herself; suddenly confronted with the knowledge that its worst, Regina's curse should have left her being raised by a single mom. But her real mom. It had been Marco - that kind old man, who had helped save Henry's life - she had to blame for being alone her whole life. She leaned forward into Snow's line of sight, breaking the other woman's own internal monologue.

Snow gave a startled twitch as Emma came into view and met her daughter's eyes. She could feel the hot sting of tears in her eyes, which she blinked back. She's always hated that they did that when she was angry; as if she didn't look soft enough as it was, she'd always felt it undermined any air of authority she'd crafted. Looking into her daughter's eyes, she realized anew just how much Gepetto had stolen from her with that one selfish act. "Well... I guess he got what he deserved... he missed most of the life of the child he spent his whole life yearning for... and only got near the end of his life." She let out a sudden bitter laugh and turned to Piper. "I think I just understood the blessing that being frozen in time really was." A single tear rolled down her cheek as she exchanged a meaningful look with what was probably the only other mother in this world who could understand what she was going through. "So, why isn't Pinocchio, er, August here?" she asked finally.

Emma's face fell at this. "He's turning back to wood."

"Because he turned his back on you. And now the curse is breaking," stated Snow flatly.

Emma nodded. "Look - please don't be angry with him." Watching her mother's reaction to this revelation, Emma realized that however much she was angry with Marco at the moment, from what it said in the book, August had tried to do the right thing. At seven years old, stuck in a strange world alone, he'd stuck by Emma longer than she had Henry.

Snow's eyes widened at this plea from Emma, but her eyebrows knit in disbelief almost instantly after. "He abandoned you, Emma!" Her voice ground like stone on glass.

The blonde shrugged. "And he's paying for something no seven year old should have been asked to do." Her tone of voice made it clear her mind was made up on the matter; her crossed arms a punctuation to the matter.

"Wouldn't you be angry if someone had done that to Henry?" Snow asked.

"I did that to Henry. August was just a kid; he shouldn't pay for his father's mistakes. Besides, it would have happened eventually. He didn't know to claim to be my brother; everything he knew about being honest and true in your world would have worked against him in this one."

"You gave me my best shot," added Henry with a smile for his mom.

The memories of Mary Margaret swirled around in Snow's head, telling her Emma was right, of course, but she just couldn't seem to make the Snow in her agree. She sighed, suddenly fatigued at the cognitive dissonance of having two selves life experiences battling for supremacy. Finally, she realized that she had no business holding a grudge against the boy if Emma didn't. "I know - I know you're right."

"You can go show Marco your right hook if you want," replied Emma with a gently humorous tone. "I don't think the sheriff will blame you..."

This got a smile from Snow. She sighed. "No... Gepetto is a good man. A stubborn fool... but a good man trying to save his son. But the Blue Fairy and I are most certainly going to have some words." She shook her head. "I suppose I should read that book I gave you after all, Henry. I don't need to be blindsided by a similar revelation at the wrong moment."

Henry nodded. "It's about time Operation Cobra finally had a debriefing."

Snow tilted her head to one side, studying him, and suddenly chuckled at the absurdity of the fact that somehow they'd all just accepted Henry as the defacto leader of Operation Cobra. "You know, I think you'll make a great king one day," she observed, the warmth at the thought seeping into her voice. "I should know - I was raised by the greatest of all." Henry shrugged, as if he could take or leave the idea of ruling a kingdom, and Snow was glad for it. He was far too young to be shouldering what he already had; no child should understand the weight of rule, and no good ruler sought out power for glory's sake. Whatever else Regina had done, she'd somehow manage to raise a boy true of heart. And it was the first time in a long time that she'd been able to put a point in the favorable category of her step-mother's pro's and con's list. Snow turned around and flipped on her oven. She could worry about Regina and Gepetto, and curses and missions later. Tonight was for family. "Would you like to hear about my father while dinner reheats?"

"King Leopold?" asked Henry. "Sure! There's not a lot of him in the stories..."

Snow nodded before bending over to slide a pan of pizza into the oven. "Well... that's probably because when he ruled the kingdom, it was at peace and prosperous; not exactly the stuff of great stories."

"How could him being king make everyone rich?" asked Emma, drawn into getting some details about her family history despite herself.

Snow smiled. "Oh, not that kind of prosperous. But taxes were fair, the people were safe and happy, and those that had fallen on hard times were always given aid..."

As the three generations that shared fairy tale blood settled into familial conversation, Piper used the opportunity extract herself from the conversation. She wanted to compose a text message to her sisters; they'd been gone longer than had been planned, and while she believed she'd know if something had happened, she couldn't help making sure everything was alright. As she brought up her phone's message center she noticed she'd received a message from Leo. Opening it up, she saw Melinda, Wyatt, and Chris, looking like little angels as they cuddled together on the couch, having fallen asleep watching a movie, if the bowl of popcorn was any indication. She glanced back up at the newly reunited family before her, suddenly finding her resolve to stop this latest threat to her family - everyone in this world's family - was re-energized. She took a quick moment to set the photo as her phone's wallpaper, then began to compose her message to her sisters.