Red started forward as she saw Charming's head emerge from underneath the tomb.
"Did you find anything?" she asked, rushing towards him and helping up the last of the stairs.
"Nothing," Charming admitted in a disappointed voice. He had ventured as far as he dared to go down the dark hallway to no avail, until he had feared he was already lost and turned back. He turned his head, looking around the tomb. He turned to Red. "Where's Emma?"
Red's eyes widened. "I thought she was with you."
"We separated," Charming explained, his pulse beginning to race. "What, she's not back yet?"
Red's wide, fearful eyes were all the answer he needed. His heart nearly stopped. He should never have agreed to separate from her. Now both his wife and daughter were missing. Again. He drew his gun from his holster and turned back towards the opening into the vault.
"I'm going after her," he said, but Red grabbed him by his upper arm.
"We can't just keep sending people after them only to have them also disappear," she warned.
"Something must have happened to her, I have to find them," he protested.
"We need help, David," Red insisted, stepping forward and preparing to body block him if need be. "We need to get Mr. Gold involved."
The suggestion triggered something Neal had said earlier this morning about his father. "I know how we can get Gold to help us," he said, turning sharply and striding from the tomb. Red followed at a trot.
Charming and Red entered the apartment just in time to see Henry slamming his knight down on a chessboard set up on the table, a huge grin on his face while his father threw his hands up in mock disappointment.
"Checkmate!" he exclaimed happily.
"Oh man, I was hoping you wouldn't see that," Neal complained, smiling. "You've got some skills in strategy, kid." His smile slid off his face at the sight of Charming and Red in the doorway, replaced by one of concern.
"How did it… go?" he asked, his eyes darting to Henry, implying that the boy knew nothing of the situation. Charming's eyes fell on Henry for a brief moment as well.
"Where's my mom?" Henry asked, popping up from his seat and peering around them. "Neal said she was with you guys."
"She got held up," Charming said, and while he was sure to make his tone a pleasant one, his continued eye contact with Neal implied there was something more to it. Neal's face fell. Charming turned to face Henry, pulling on his best smile. "She'll be back in a little while. In the mean time, Henry, why don't you go with Ruby down to Granny's. She has a special treat for you."
"Come on, kid," she said, also pulling on her best smile and reaching for Henry's hand. She shot Neal and Charming one final worried glance before following him out the door.
"What happened?" Neal asked, standing from his chair.
"We followed the trail to Regina's vault, but we got separated," Charming recounted. "Emma never made it out. I don't know what happened to her."
Charming caught Neal's panicking eyes pointedly.
"We need your father's help," he said. Neal nodded.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" he said, grabbing his jacket from beside the door.
"Just the way you like it," Granny said, smiling genuinely as she placed a warm mug of cocoa on the counter. Henry sat opposite it on the bar stool, his short legs dangling below him. He reached for the unorthodox cinnamon stick and began to stir the warm brown liquid and the frothy whipped cream on top.
"Thanks Granny," he said, smiling back.
"Anytime, kid," she winked.
"Henry, will you be alright here with Granny for a little while? I have to go… do something," she finished lamely, hoping the eleven-year-old would be too engrossed by his sweet drink to be curious about the vague explanation.
"Sure, Ruby," Henry said, taking a sip from his mug and emerging with a white mustache.
"We'll be fine," Granny assured her, nodding pointedly. "Go do what you need to do."
Henry waited until the chime of the bell at the top of the door died away before he chanced a glance out of the corner of his eyes. Out the large storefront window he saw Red meet up with Charming and Neal, the red streak in her hair flashing in the sunlight as she crossed the road. He saw them speak briefly and then continue down the sidewalk. He shifted slightly in his seat, hoping Granny would not notice where his attention was, and saw them enter Mr. Gold's pawn shop.
Henry waited a few moments, counting slowly in his head, before he swiveled his stool and hopped down from it.
"Where are you going, little man?" Granny asked him.
"I need to use the bathroom," Henry told her. Granny eyed him skeptically, hands on her hips.
"You've barely touched your hot chocolate," she challenged him.
"I'm not feeling so great," Henry said, placing a hand on his stomach. "I think it might be something I ate. I love my new dad and all, but his cooking isn't the best. He should really stick to buying me New York pizza, and we can leave the omelets to you."
Henry winked and smiled, and Granny smiled at the boy's cheek and aptitude for flattery.
"Alright, well don't take too long, or your cocoa will get cold."
"I won't," Henry promised, rushing towards the back of the diner. He made it all the way to the door of the bathroom and pressed his hand upon it as if to open it. Then he paused. He glanced back cautiously at the sliver of the diner he could still see around the bend in the hallway. Granny turned her back to him as she reached for a coffee pot, and Henry made his break. He continued down the hallway and out the backdoor into the rear parking lot. He checked the coast both ways before slinking down the alley and onto the main street, careful to stay on the edges of the road so as to not be detected through the windows of the diner. He skipped across the street and down the side alley beside the pawnshop, checking again in either direction as he came up to the back door at the side of the building. No one was around. He gently turned the knob as quietly as possible and slipped into the back of the store.
Henry heard the sound of muffled, concerned voices from where he emerged, hidden among the dark, dank shelving of the back storeroom. He drew closer, sure to keep himself well hidden, and the voices came into sharper focus.
"… seems our dear Snow has taken it upon herself to end the blood feud between her and Regina," came Mr. Gold's thick accent.
"Only because you convinced her in the first place to trade Cora's life for your own!" Charming countered, a tone of offense in his voice.
"Look, why she did it isn't the issue," Neal broke in. "What matters now is that she and Emma have both gone missing."
Henry felt his stomach lurch. He held is breath and pressed closer to the shelves, through which he could see the figures speaking, desperate for more news.
"We tracked them to Regina's vault under her father's grave, but Emma never came out," Red explained quickly.
"She must still be down there, then, right?" Neal asked.
"Regina wants revenge on Snow for her mother's death. Snow attempted to give her that vengeance by sacrificing herself," Gold summarized. "But if I know Regina, and I do, quite well, Snow's death won't be enough for her. She wants a different kind of vengeance. She is grieving the loss of a family member, and she will want Snow to feel that same pain. For Regina, vengeance won't mean killing Snow, it will mean…"
"… killing Emma?!" Red squeaked, finishing his sentence for him.
A soft sensation of dread wracked Henry's eleven-year-old body. Would his adoptive mother really do that to his birth mother? Henry thought back through the last few weeks with Emma. How he had given her the cold shoulder for lying to him. How he had continually pushed her away and made her feel guilty. He could see how much it hurt her, his accusations and jibes, even as he was saying them. He now regretted it very much. Had he seen his mother for the last time? And all he had given her was hostility.
The voices were still speaking, Charming's sounding outraged and Neal's sounding frightened and determined, but Henry did not hear their words. He was consumed by one overriding thought. He had to stop Regina. He had to stop his mother from killing his other mother. And, he realized with a short breath, he was probably the only person who could. He was her one hope.
Silent as a mouse, grateful for his tiny eleven-year-old footsteps as he shuffled across the floor, he exited the door he had entered. He pushed it quietly shut until he felt it latch. Then he pointed himself towards the graveyard and ran.