Henry dropped his book bag onto the bed. "New York City hotels are small," he commented.

Regina surveyed the tiny armoire that was supposed to serve as their closet, swinging the wooden doors back and forth. She let go of the armoire and crossed her arms close to her chest. "And expensive. This shoebox is costing me two-hundred dollars a night."

"Mom. You have money falling out of your ears. Can we please just focus on finding Emma?"

Mary Margaret spoke up from where she laid on one of the two queen beds. "Henry's right. Money is not our issue. Emma is."

Regina cocked an eyebrow at Snow. "Remind me again why I allowed you to come?"

Mary Margaret pushed herself up and sat crisscross applesauce on the white comforter. "Emma's my daughter. You don't really believe I would let my daughter go? Again? We all know what happened the first time."

Regina flinched visibly. Snow noticed her reaction. "Regina," she said. Regina looked physically hurt. "I-I'm sorry. It's just the stress."

"No." Regina drew in a deep breath. "My apology to you is long overdue. I took away the opportunity for you and David to raise Emma. You lost twenty-eight years with her because of me. Having Henry, I understand now how painful that must've been. I'm so sorry."

The silence between them was almost deafening. Regina ran her fingers along the desk, feeling the smoothness of the polish against her fingertips. She was all out in the open now How did the saying go, again? All her cards were on the table? Yes; she had laid all her cards on the table. It was Snow's move now.

Mary Margaret squeezed her eyes shut. A tear slipped out from her eye and slid slowly down her cheek. It was a long time before she said anything. "Regina. You sentenced an entire realm to an eternity of unhappiness because Imade a mistake. You tore apart families, stole memories, ripped away identities, just because I tried to help you, Regina. I thought I was helping you; I didn't know what was going to happen. But you did; you knew what this curse would do, and you did it anyway. And I can't forgive you for that."

Regina looked at Snow. Henry could tell by her expression that she was deeply pained. He watched her lower herself into the desk chair. "Okay," was all she said. "That's fair." With that, she dropped her head into her hands.

"Grandma," protested Henry, "why can't you forgive Mom? She saved us all from Isaac's storybook."

Regina waved one hand at Henry. "Snow has the right to refuse to forgive me. She wasn't the one who ruined my happiness, but I was the one who ruined hers." The hand went back to her face. "I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness, really."

Henry didn't like to see two of the most important people in his life so distressed and upset. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a box. "Travel scrabble? Mom? Grandma?"

Mary Margaret threw an uncertain glance in Regina's direction. Her head was still resting in her palms. "Sure, Henry, I'll play," Mary Margaret said.

The two of them played absent-mindedly. Some of the words weren't even legitimate words, but neither bothered to correct the other. The game was only a distraction as long as they didn't have to think about it that much. "Eight points for 'donkey,'" muttered Henry. Snow placed an "O" underneath a letter T. "Two points for 'to.'" She sighed. "Henry, I know you want me to forgive your mom, but I can't, okay? You'll understand when you have children someday. You won't want to miss a minute with them."

"No. No! Everyone keeps telling me I'll understand when I'm older. That's not true; I understand now. I know you missed out on raising Emma, and I know that hurt. But the truth is she would've been in even more danger back in the Enchanted Forest. Mom wouldn't've given up until she had Emma and ruined your happy ending, anyway. Look what happened with the curse. Maybe Mom didn't want it to backfire on her, but it did. And she's good now; she's a hero. She's trying to apologize to you. There's nothing she can do to fix what she did, but she's doing her best to make amends. And I think you should let her."

Regina still hadn't moved from her seat in the chair. She hadn't even stirred. "It's more complicated than that, Henry," Mary Margaret said with a gentle shake of her head.

"No, it's not," Henry declared forcefully. "You can't move forward until you forgive the things that happened in the past. We're never going to find Emma if all you're letting Mom do is feel guilty for something she regrets doing more than anything."

Snow stood up and closed the gap between her and Regina. "More than anything? Really?"

Regina's voice was muffled and shaky when she spoke. "I had to tear out my own father's heart for the curse. He was the last person who truly loved me then, and I ripped his heart out because I thought it would make me happy."

Snow gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. "Oh. Oh, Regina. Really?"

Regina nodded faintly, head still in hands. "The thing is, it did make me feel better. For a while, anyway. When Henry brought Emma back with him, though, I started to think. I started to regret enacting the curse. But it was too late, and most people still hate me for it."

Regina felt two warm, soft arms wrap around her shoulders. She stood up, turned around, and accepted the hug Mary Margaret was offering her. Regina began to sob, tears streaming down her face. Suddenly the girl she was hugging wasn't Mary Margaret anymore; it was ten-year-old Snow. Selfless, innocent Snow White. Why had she had to ruin that?

Henry hopped up from the bed and walked over to his two family members. They each extended an arm and welcomed him into their embrace.

Henry woke up to the soft snores of his grandmother. He shifted his head against the pillow so he could read the clock. 2:13 am. He rolled over to look at his mom next, but the space next to him was empty.

Thinking she'd maybe just gone to the bathroom, Henry waited in patient silence for the next few minutes. His mother never returned to the bed, though, and now that he was paying attention, there was no light coming from under the bathroom door.

Henry shot up in bed. He threw the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sprinted over to Mary Margaret and violently shook her awake. "Grandma. Grandma!"

Snows rhythmic snores stopped abruptly. "What is it, Henry?" she propped herself up on one arm and rubbed her eyes with the other. "It's two a.m. What could possibly be so important?"

"Mom's gone. I don't know where she went, and I'm worried about her. I may not know much about this city, but I know it's not a safe place to be in the middle of the night."

Henry could make out enough in the dark to watch Snow's eyes widen to the size of baseballs.