Massachusetts, 2005

A tired middle-aged man, quite inconspicuous in the small but crowded casino, sat down behind a slot machine. He checked his watch. Only 2:30. He inserted his first quarter.

"'Scuse me, Andy?" he turned around to see a tall somewhat younger man behind him. "Do you happen to know where the men's room is?"

"Hallway, first door on your left."

"Thanks," said the younger man. Andy turned around and inserted another quarter. His first one hadn't gotten him anything.

"So…uh, what brings you here?"

Andy sighed. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"Well, sorry to bother you," said the other man. "I just thought you might have gotten lost. You know, on your way back to Philadelphia?"

That did it. Andy visibly jolted, squirmed for a split second, and then got up so quickly that his chair fell over.

"How the hell did you know my name?"

The younger man's mouth twisted into a sly smile.

"Shit," mumbled Andy. "You're a cop, aren't you?"

The younger man was already pulling his badge out of his pocket. "Detective Henry Stable. You should have known you couldn't run from your responsibilities forever, Mr. White."

"Listen," snapped Andy as Henry led him down the hallway of the police station. "I didn't want those kids in the first place. Charlotte did."

"Doesn't matter," said Henry. "You agreed to put them into this world, you signed your name on that birth certificate, and if you're smart, you'll apologize to the judge and your wife on Friday and buck up and support them."

"Ex-wife," seethed Andy.

Henry wordlessly opened the cell door and undid the handcuffs. Grudgingly, the older man walked inside and sat down somewhere. Henry left and began making his way back to his office.

"Hey, sexy," whispered a secretary as Henry walked past her desk on the way out. She gestured to the cooler under her desk. "You seem tense. Want a beer?"

"I wish," Henry whispered back. She knew very well that he wasn't allowed to drink during work. But it might have helped him put the disgust that he felt towards Andy, and every other man who was willing to walk away from his family, out of his mind. This sort of thing flew directly in the face of all the reasons Henry had decided to become a detective in the first place, a feeling that always hit especially hard today.

"If I give it to you when you get off of work, then I'll have to drive you back to my place," crooned the secretary.

"Not tonight, Stacie," said Henry apologetically. "I kind of have to take my sister out for her birthday. All her friends are busy during the week, and we haven't had any family around here for a while, so it's kind of our tradition."

"Mmkay," said Stacie. "Rain check?"

"You bet."

Henry stopped at the coffee machine on the way back to the office. All he had left to do for his last half-hour of work was fill out forms. He almost wished that he had a more difficult task that would take his mind away from the recurring emotions that went with this particular date on the calendar. He resented that the day his favorite person in the world was born had also been the worst day of his life. He resented that he had no one who he could really talk to about it without them thinking that he was lying or delusional about the fact that he remembered his parents and knew they really had loved him and wanted him. And that was if he left out the details about the Enchanted Forest, the wicked witch, and the magic tree.

"Hey, Henry?"

Henry glanced up and saw his boss staring at him with her hands on her hips. Uh-oh. He hoped he hadn't been slipping up today.

"Good afternoon, Officer Lee. Is there a problem?"

"You tell me. A little girl showed up here fifteen minutes ago demanding to talk to you. She won't tell anybody her name or where she's from."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Me specifically?"

"She says she's your daughter."

Henry coughed. "Say what now?"

"Is there any chance she could be telling the truth?"

"We'll see," said Henry, knowing there were easily over a dozen chances she could be telling the truth. He straightened up. "Thank you for warning me."

"No problem," said Officer Lee. "She's waiting in your office. I think all the potato chips you were keeping in there are gone."

"Great," mumbled Henry.

As soon as Henry opened the door to his office, the petite preteen girl stood up and dropped the bag of potato chips she was holding onto the chair. Her hair was dark and curly like his but hung down her back, and the green sundress she was wearing matched the color of her eyes. For a split second, he thought he recognized those eyes.

"Are you Henry Stable?" she asked, nervously gripping the strap of the messenger bag she was wearing.

"Yes. Can you tell me why you think you're my daughter?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"My birthmother put me up for adoption when I was a baby," she said. "And last week I found my birth certificate with your name on it. And…" she slung her backpack off her shoulder and removed something from the pocket, "…this was with it."

Henry reached out and took what the girl was handing him. His hand trembled slightly when he realized what it was. The photograph was dated October 1993. In the picture, he was standing under a tree surrounded by autumn leaves with his arms wrapped around someone.

Henry might not have been able to recognize a photograph of just any girl he'd been with over a decade before. But he recognized this one.

Henry took a deep breath. "Okay…kid…"

"Kayla," the girl corrected him. "And I'm not a kid. I'm eleven."

"Um…right. Do you have any idea what happened to your birthmother?"

"No. I live with my parents in Storybrooke, Maine. I need you to come home with me and help me save them."

"Save them from what?" asked Henry. "And hey, how did you even get here all by yourself?"

"I had to come by myself," insisted Kayla. "My parents are cursed." Henry froze. "You remember magic, don't you?" Kayla opened her messenger bag and pulled out a large book with the words Once Upon A Time printed on the cover. She flipped the book open to a page near the back and handed the book to Henry.

"With a mere flick of her wrist, the evil witch flung the poor old man to the ground and knocked him out with her sleeping powder. She let out a frightening cackle, scaring the little boy, who was crouched just a few feet away. Realizing that he had no other way to hide, he brought his little sister over to what appeared to be a tree trunk with a door but was really a magical wardrobe that would transport them to another land."

Next to the text was a painted picture of Henry at four years of age crouched next to the wardrobe holding the basket with Helena in it. Every detail was exactly as he remembered. The apples just visible in the basket around the baby. The pattern of the floorboards underneath them. Even the clothes Henry was wearing.

"Henry? Will you come home and help me break the curse? Please? You have to. The book says Rumpelstiltskin told James and Abigail that the savior would be the child of Daniel and Regina, and that's you."

No one but him had spoken of the curse in twenty-eight years.

Child Protection Services

It might have been cliché that Helena Stable, a woman who'd lost her parents at birth, was one of the most devoted social workers on the East Coast. Not so much was the fact that she knew more about the origins of the children she was helping than her own.

"Ms. Stable?" Helena looked up to see one of the male caseworkers in the doorway. He flashed her a smile. "I finished up early. Need some help?"

"No, thank you," said Helena.

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"Okay."

Helena looked down at her stack of paperwork that seemed to double in size overnight every time she got here. Every memo on her desk represented a child who needed someone to make sure they were okay.

Finished up early my ass. There is no "finishing up" here.

The phone on her desk rang. She paused what she was doing, knowing chances are that it was either her boss or her brother, the latter of whom knew he wasn't supposed to call her at work unless there was an emergency. But Henry had a very loose definition of 'emergency'.

"Child Protection Services, this is Helena."

A long shaky breath came from the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Helena, I need you to come here now."

"Henry? Where are you? If you're calling me to complain about the war again, you need to wait until I'm off of work."

"No…I'm at work, and I just found something out, and…I kind of need you to be here, now."

"Okay, Henry," said Helena. "You're freaking me out."

She tensed up as the phone line clicked. Then reluctantly, she went and told her boss that she needed to leave for the day because of a family emergency. She wasn't sure he believed her, especially since they all knew it was her birthday, but he let it go because she was their most valuable employee.

"I swear to God Henry, if this is some prank you're pulling to surprise me with something, I'm going to kill you," Helena muttered under her breath. It wasn't like he should be in a hurry to start the birthday festivities anyway. Her birthday was the one day of the year that she and Henry didn't get along, because it was the day that reminded her why her brother was the one person in the world whom she loved as much as she resented. Every year for the past twelve years or so, it had gone the same way. It would start with him giving her a birthday hug and a present. Then they would go out to dinner. And then the conversation would commence. The one that would start with her asking him the questions she knew he had the answers to, the answers that she so desperately craved.

"So, kid…" the girl looked up and glared at Henry. "Um, Kayla. What exactly do you mean your parents are cursed?"

"They never get any older," said Kayla. "My mom has turned the same age on her birthday every year since I've been born, and my dad won't even talk about his age. And sometimes they have trouble remembering things. Especially things that happened before I was born."

This didn't sound very unusual so far.

"Please come back to Storybrooke with me," she begged. "Just stay for a few days and meet my family. That's all I ask."

Henry just turned and looked down at her, a little distracted by how mind-blowing it was that this was his daughter. The long dark hair reminded him of his mother, the sweet smile reminded him of Helena, and the green eyes reminded him of…

"Hey, Henry," Henry turned around and saw Helena entering the room breathlessly. "What's…" she stopped when she saw the child.

"I need to talk to you for a second," said Henry, getting up and dragging Helena out into the hallway. Kayla looked down and started leafing through the book some more.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Helena. "If this is a suspected case of child abuse, you know damn well that the standard procedure doesn't involve calling me out of work early and scaring the crap out of me."

Henry sucked in a breath. "That little girl in there was put up for adoption at birth, and she has a birth certificate with my name on it."

Helena's eyebrows shot up. "So she's…"

"My daughter. Yes."

Helena didn't react for a minute. Then she started to giggle.

"You have a love child? And you're surprised about that?"

"Helena, stop," said Henry. Thankfully she saw that he was genuinely freaked out right now, so she tried to look more sympathetic. Unsuccessfully.

"Who's the birthmother? Anyone you remember?"

Henry wordlessly held out the photograph Kayla had given him. That's when Helena grew serious for real. "Why would she keep a secret like that from you?"

"I don't know," said Henry. That was actually a good question, but at this point it was just about the last thing on his mind.

How had this kid found him? How the hell had she gotten a book that had the story of the beginning of his life in it? How had that book even come into existence in the first place? And what did her parents being cursed have anything to do with what happened to him and Helena?

Unless her parents were…their parents?

"Listen, sis," said Henry. "The reason she came to find me was to ask for help. She thinks her parents are cursed."

"So fairy tale metaphors run in the family?" said Helena dryly, even though they both knew the conversation that saying that would lead to wasn't going to happen at this time or place.

"Exactly," said Henry, his mind working quickly. "So if she's saying her parents are "cursed", that might mean she's in a bad situation right now. That's why I needed you here, to help me bring her home so you can scope it out, and if there is something wrong, do…whatever it is that you do."

"And here I thought you'd planned a surprise party," Helena joked.

"Better luck next year?"

Helena smiled. "Let's get this girl home. Where does she live?"

"Apparently a town in Maine called Storybrooke."

"Storybrooke? Seriously?"

"Yeah…seriously." Strange name, Henry realized when he said it. He barely had time to think about that before he introduced Kayla and Helena, explained that he had to leave work early, and then piled everyone into his car.

"So…Kayla," Helena turned around in the front seat and smiled at the girl. "Tell me about yourself."

"Um…I'm eleven years old, I'm in middle school, and I wish I had a pony."

Helena smiled. "What's your favorite subject?"

"Art," said Kayla. "My teacher has us paint a birdhouse every Monday. She always reminds us that birds are loyal creatures, and that if we love them, they will always find us. I love to read too, but we don't do much of that in school."

"Really? What's your favorite book?"

"Hmm," said Kayla. "I'd better tell you later."

Helena shot Henry a kids-say-the-darnedest things smile. He fake-returned it even though he knew exactly why Kayla wasn't telling her.

"So, what are your hobbies?"

"Hmm, going on walks around town, visiting the animal shelter, going to the library with my mom…"

"Do you spent a lot of time with your parents?" asked Helena. That was when Henry suddenly realized Helena wasn't just trying to get to know her niece. She was trying to get an advance glimpse of the family situation. He suddenly felt bad that he'd given her the idea that Kayla's adopted parents might be abusive. He knew more than anyone how that particular issue touched her. Then again…the only reason he had to suspect that Kayla wasn't being abused was that his parents might be the ones raising her. But if it was someone else, then maybe the story he'd told Helena about the curse metaphor had more truth to it than he'd thought.

"Sort of," said Kayla. "I only spend time with them indoors. My dad doesn't want Mayor Mills to know I'm his daughter."

Henry tensed up. Whoever was raising his daughter wasn't supposed to have children? "I wonder why that would be a problem," said Helena casually.

"He says they don't get along," said Kayla. "She's a pretty scary person, so I don't like to go near her anyway. That's part of why I thought today would be a good day to sneak out and look for you, Henry."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Today's Founder's Day in Storybrooke," Kayla explained. "Every year, Mayor Mills goes up on her podium and tells a story about how a wonderful, powerful woman founded Storybrooke sometime in the 1970's. Everybody has to listen, and if someone gets up to go do something else, she stops and punishes them. She changes around the details of the story every year, but nobody notices."

"But you do?" said Helena. "Smart kid." Kayla beamed. "What's your favorite radio station?"

Kayla shrugged. "We don't have a radio at our house."

"I'm sure you have a television, though."

"Nope," said Kayla. "Not many people in Storybrooke have a television. My dad has a computer, though. That's what I used to find Henry." She leaned forward. "By the way, why do you have a membership to a website called ? Does that have something to do with fishing?"

"Okay, Helena, why don't you put on the radio?"

Helena rolled her eyes but wordlessly turned on the radio and put it on something eleven-year-old-girl appropriate that made Henry think if there was a radio station for elevator music he'd rather play that. He let the sound of various lyrics about dreams coming to life and boyfriends and breakups fill the car and forced himself to concentrate on the road, reminding himself that driving was the only thing that was going to get him closer to the answers to his questions.

"Hey, Kayla, what's your address?" Henry finally asked when they reached Maine.

"I'll tell you after we get past the sign," said Kayla. "I mapped out the way back here." She pulled out a map and showed them where she'd traced every road she'd been on from Storybrooke to Boston.

"Impressive," remarked Henry.

"I had to," said Kayla. "We never would have found the town again if I hadn't. Trust me."

"Does the mayor ever say anything in her Founder's Day speech about why whoever founded the town decided to name it Storybrooke?" asked Henry.

"She usually says it's because life there is supposed to be so perfect you feel like you're living in a fairy tale," said Kayla. "One year she changed it to 'because everyone's story ends here'. That's kind of true. Nobody ever comes to town; nobody ever leaves."

"Must be a small town," remarked Helena. "I've never heard of it."

Kayla didn't say anything and started singing along to the lyrics of one song that had played one too many times. Helena started studying the map and giving Henry directions to Storybrooke.

When they finally entered the town, Helena's first impression was that this was a quaint little town that didn't get much action. It really did look like something that came from a story book. Small school, small shops, small library, cute little diner. Cars that looked like they all came from the late 70's.

"It can't already be 8:15," remarked Helena as she glanced at the clock tower.

"It isn't," said Kayla. "It's only 6:20. That clock tower hasn't worked in years."

"How much farther from here to your house, Kayla?" asked Henry.

"Just take the road past the apartment building; then when you get to the green house on the end make a right."

Henry took a deep breath. This was it. Maybe, after twenty-eight long years, he was about to see his parents again. If not, something else important was about to happen that would help him find them. He just knew it.

"Are you okay?" asked Helena quietly. Henry shrugged and forced himself to appear calm. When he pulled into the driveway of Kayla's house behind an old maroon bug, he saw a woman rushing out of the house who he knew instantly wasn't his mother. He, Kayla, and Helena all climbed out of the car.

"Kayla!" scolded the woman. "Where on earth have you been?"

"I found the person who's going to fix you!" yelled Kayla. Then she glared at the woman and stomped into the house.

The woman turned and glanced at Henry. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Detective Henry Stable," he shook the woman's hand. "I'm also your child's birthfather."

"What?"

"She came to Boston to find me," he said apologetically. "I swear, I didn't even know…"

"Who's out there, darling?" Henry looked up and saw a slightly older looking man limping down the steps of the house. "Is Kayla back yet?"

"I'm fine, Daddy!" huffed Kayla as she stepped out of the house.

"I'm sure you are, Kayla Belle." The old man gave his daughter a quick, understanding hug. "Are you the man who brought her back to us?"

"How can you be so calm about this?" scolded his wife in one of those accents that made Henry want to listen to her talk so more no matter what she was saying. "Kayla left the state and didn't even leave a note."

"I know, darling. I'm just relieved she made it back safely." He squeezed her hand, then held his hand out to shake Henry's.

"Mr. Gold."

"Detective Henry Stable."

"Henry. What a lovely name."