A/N: I'd like to apologize for a mistake I made in the last chapter, I accidentally put in the year as 1983 when it should have been 1977 because in this universe, the curse happened six years before it was supposed to.

"Henry! Are you done brushing your teeth yet?"

"Almost, Mr. Roskin!"

The nearly seven-year-old boy stared blankly at the bathroom mirror while he rolled down the sleeves of his scratchy over-sized pajamas, as if that might make them more comfortable. He leaned close to his reflection and reminded himself of where parts of it came from. His mother's thick dark hair and light skin. His father's eyes. He wasn't sure whose nose anymore. His parents were rapidly fading away, and it scared him. He tried to remember what his mother's apple pie tasted like and how his father sounded when he talked about his horses. Or even the smell of a stable block or the weight of a grooming brush in his hand. None of the other kids or grownups here believed him when he told them he could ride a horse. Or about anything else he talked about from his life with his parents.

"I want everyone in bed in thirty minutes!" barked Mr. Roskin. "Lights out by eight fifteen or no breakfast in the morning!" Then he left to check all the locks. Henry exited the bathroom and walked down the hall to say goodnight to his sister, who still slept in the crib next to the kitchen and had to stay in there most of the time. Over time, her hair had turned brown like their father's, and she now had their mother's face and beautiful brown eyes.

"Henwy?" said Helena as she stood up in her crib and reached out for him. "Bedtime stowy?"

"Sure," said Henry. "Just lie down." The little girl complied and rested her head on the pillow. Henry smiled and tucked her in as he began.

"Once upon a time, there was a magical place called the Enchanted Forest. In the Enchanted Forest, there was a farm, and on that farm lived a boy named Henry, his parents Daniel and Regina, and at least half a dozen beautiful horses."

Mayor Mills proudly strode through the streets of Storybrooke, her omnipresent smile possessing just enough sweet vindictiveness to intimidate everyone within a twenty-foot radius of her. Sheriff Graham, who Cora guessed used to be some sort of royal huntsman, was being served a cup of coffee by a slim young waitress at a nearby diner while the owner of the diner, Granny, was bickering with Mr. Gold about the rent. A sweet young woman hummed to herself as she made her way up the steps and almost bumped into a young man exiting the diner with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Oh!" the young woman gasped. "I'm so sorry, David."

"No, no, it's fine," said David quickly. He glanced off to the side and blushed. "I…um…I like your new scarf, Mary Margret."

The young schoolteacher's face lit up. "Thank you so much!" She practically squealed on the way in the door, and the two parted ways. David hopped into the neighborhood animal rescue van and drove off. Across the street, Kathryn Evans was opening up her salon, Moe French was arranging a bouquet of flowers, and Marco was repairing a broken sign. Down the street, Dr. Hopper was cheerfully opening up his clinic, and Mrs. Gold was opening up the library.

Cora strode past Michael and Billy repairing a broken pickup truck and the town drunk frightening a group of children on their way to school. She enjoyed this little walk she took every morning from her house to city hall. Mostly because seeing people step out of her path on the sidewalk was the closest thing to seeing them all bow down to her. All she'd ever wanted was to hear them call her Your Majesty, but she supposed Mayor Mills would have to do for now.

At the hospital, the one place Cora made a habit of stopping on her way to work, a middle-aged nurse named Edith Nolan was comforting a sick child. When she saw Cora enter the building, she walked over and immediately asked if she could do anything for her. Cora said no and went downstairs to the psychiatric ward.

"Good morning, Mayor Mills," said the nurse at the front desk.

"Has anyone been to see him?"

"No. Not today. Not ever."

Just to see for herself, Cora walked down and looked into the window of his padded cell anyway. Curled up in a corner all alone, the stable boy looked back at her with confused broken eyes, his skin pale even against the rough fabric of his white robe.

Officer Lee hated giving up on investigations. Really, she did. It always made her feel like she was letting someone down, especially when that someone was a child. But it was hard not to recognize that she needed to give up when, after two and a half years, the people she was looking for had shown no sign of existing. She had tried everything. She hadn't been able to find anyone whose DNA matched Henry and Helena's. Or who matched the descriptions Henry had given her. Or who was named Regina and had given birth to two children that were missing. Whatever the explanation was probably made Henry's magical wardrobe theory look plausible.

It was time to admit that Officer Lee had dragged out the investigation far longer than she should have and gotten absolutely no result. Whoever Henry and Helena's natural parents were weren't coming for them, and it was time to give them a chance to find a new home.

Soon after, the seven-year-old and the two-and-a-half-year-old were told they were soon to be leaving the Roskin house and moving in with a new family. Henry's heart skipped a beat. "Are you taking us home to our parents?"

The social worker smiled sadly. "I'm afraid not, honey. We haven't been able to find them. But you guys might be getting a new mommy and daddy, who won't ever go anywhere or leave you."

"No, thanks," said Henry. "I don't want a new family. I want my old one back."

That just made the social worker look even sadder. "Tell you what. You and your sister need to live somewhere, right? Just think of this as another place to stay for now."

"Fine," Henry reluctantly agreed. "But I'm not gonna like it."

Three days later, their new foster parents came to pick them up. Henry and Helena were ready in their cleanest clothes and with a plastic garbage bag full of their scant personal belongings in tow. Mr. Roskin greeted them at the door in the friendly voice normally only used with social workers while Mrs. Roskin stood back holding Henry and Helena's hands so tightly they thought they were about to pop off.

"These must be the children!" A well-to-do lady and gentleman rounded the corner. They were so cheerful and nice that Henry had to smile. The lady shook his hand warmly and told him her name was Ella Swenson. "And this is my husband, Ross." Ross smiled and leaned down to also shake the children's hands.

"You have strong hands like my Daddy," Henry remarked. "Are you a horseman?"

Ross smiled for a second so big his eyes crinkled. "Nope. I work in an office. Boring, huh?" Henry just shrugged, because he didn't want to be rude, but that kind of did sound boring.

Ella knelt down so that she was eye level with Henry. "Why don't we all go home and get settled in, and then later maybe we can go out for ice cream?"

Helena grinned. "Eyes Keem!"

Henry shrugged again. "Sounds alright." Then he sharply yanked his hand out of Mrs. Roskin's grasp and headed for the front door. Helena followed suit. Ella shook Mrs. Roskin's hand and told her "thank you for everything". Henry wondered for a split second what Mrs. Roskin had done for Ella before he and Helena were loaded into the backseat of a minivan.

"How many kids live at your house?" asked Henry.

"Just the two of you," Ella assured him.

"So we don't have to share a room with anyone?"

"You'll share with each other, for now," said Ross. "But next week we're planning on adding a new room to the side of the house. Do you guys each want to have your own bedroom?"

Henry and Helena's eyes widened and they turned to glance at each other as if looking for confirmation that this was really happening.

At Ella and Ross's house, there was an already decent-sized bedroom waiting for the children with a toddler bed and a twin bed and a toy chest full of as many toys as the entire Roskin house had put together. After the children unpacked the little that they had, Ross and Ella took them out for ice cream and then to the store to pick out blankets and sheets for their beds. Helena wanted all things Sesame Street, and Henry wanted all things cowboy. They both got everything they'd asked for, and Henry even got a new cowboy backpack for school to replace the hand-me-down one with holes in it the Roskins had given him.

At the end of the day, even Henry couldn't help but wonder if he might start to like it here soon after all.

Two weeks later

"And then just as the grandpa was about to save the day, the evil witch flung him to the ground with her magic powder and cackled the most evil cackle you've ever heard!" Henry imitated the cackle for dramatic affect as Helena half-shrieked and shrank under the covers. "The farm boy had no time to lose, he had to get his sister out of there. He looked around the room…and what did he see…but a magical wardrobe."

"Henry, wrap it up," said Ella as she shut the little girl's bedroom window. "It's time for you to go to bed."

"As soon as the witch flew over into another room, the farm boy picked up the basket his little sister was in and got in the magical wardrobe. He closed the door behind them, and at last, they were safe."

Helena clapped her little hands. "Goodnight Henwy."

"Night night." Henry whispered, kissing his little sister on the forehead before exiting the room with Ella.

"Henry, can I ask you something?" asked Ella.

"Sure."

"Why do you tell your sister the same bedtime story every single night?"

"It's not really a story," said Henry. "It actually happened."

Ella smoothed the boy's hair back with a strange look on her face. "Is that what your mommy and daddy told you to say when they left you at that diner?"

Henry scowled and shook his head. "No. They didn't know where I was going to come through, and I'm not a liar."

"I'm sure you're not a liar, Henry," said Ella. "But sometimes people exaggerate the truth a little to make it more interesting. Like when I say we're going to make a ton of cookies."

Henry giggled. "Or like when Ross says that it's raining cats and dogs outside."

"Exactly."

"But I'm not exaggerating the truth about my parents," said Henry seriously. "I know there's no magic in this world so you don't believe me, but I really did travel here in a wardrobe, we really did come from the enchanted forest, and there really was an evil witch in my house. Even if nobody ever believes me, you can't tell me that I didn't see what I saw."

That made Ella look worried for some reason.

"It's okay," Henry assured her. "The witch isn't going to come after us here. There's no magic in this world."

"Of course not," said Ella almost sadly. "Why don't you run along to bed?" She gave him a quick hug goodnight and then left to go talk to her husband about something.

"Ross, why are we going to the doctor today?" whined Henry. "I'm not sick. My teacher said we were gonna build a robot this afternoon!"

"I'll take you over to school by lunchtime," promised Ross. "And I know you aren't sick. This isn't a regular doctor. He's…a feelings doctor."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see once we go in."

Ross and Henry weren't in the waiting room very long before Dr. Seymour came out to greet them. They were then escorted into a doctor's office with nothing but a desk and some toys. Dr. Seymour talked to Henry and asked him about his parents, then let him play for a little while. Then he sent Henry out to the waiting room so that he could talk to Ross. Henry started for the waiting room, then realized nobody had told him how long he was supposed to stay there. He turned and headed back to the office, which was already cracked shut.

"I honestly don't think there's anything fundamentally wrong with the boy, Mr. Swenson," said Dr. Seymour. "Considering what he's been through, it's not surprising that he may have some issues grasping the difference between fantasy and reality. Especially since he is only seven. Think about it. Most kids his age still believe in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy."

"But that's because there's an adult telling them they exist. And even little kids know they've never actually seen Santa's sleigh up in the air flying. Henry thinks he actually went through the experience of teleporting somewhere via a magical wardrobe to get away from an evil witch. That's crazy!"

"We don't really use the term 'crazy' here. Whatever did happen to Henry, this fairy tale he's been telling himself and his sister is his way of expressing it. Think of it as his language. If you'd taken in a child who spoke Spanish, you wouldn't tell him there was something wrong with him, would you? You would learn enough of it to teach him how to speak English. That's what you need to do with Henry and his stories. In the meantime, I recommend you bring him back here weekly."

"What if this doesn't work? What if the kid is schizophrenic or something? My wife has always said she wanted to adopt if we couldn't become real parents, but if he turns out to be some nut job I don't care what she thinks. We're sending him back."

"As I said before, I highly doubt that's the case. As for his little sister, I suggest you slowly start encouraging him to tell her that bedtime story less and less. Hearing it over and over probably won't distort her view of the world, especially not at age two, but it will give her a sense of false hope for years to come if it doesn't stop."

By the time Ross came out to take Henry over to school, the boy was silently sitting huddled in a plastic cushioned chair. He refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the day.

That night, he told Helena a new bedtime story. One about a boy who has to turn himself into a statue to avoid getting eaten by a dragon.