Disclaimer: I own but not Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

A/N: Just to clarify, each chapter will be written from a specific characters perspective. Emma's perspective will be featured heavily early on, though I will be alternating chapters between her and other characters. Regina will be featured heavily as well, though not until a little bit later in the story.

Then took the other, as just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

-Robert Frost

Emma

Sunday October 23th 8:17pm

Emma rested her head against the cool, painted wood. "You have got to be kidding me," she breathed.

Shit.

The door swung open once more. The kid standing in front of her looked devastated. He'd clearly been looking for a warmer reception; which only added to Emma's uneasiness.

"Look kid... I'm sorry," she hedged. "You caught me off guard, but... I think you've made a mistake. I'm no ones mom."

"But you are!" he insisted, a panic settling in on his face.

Emma peered into the hall. "Where are your parents?"

The boy ignored her question. "Ten years ago you gave up baby for adoption. That was me." Emma reflexively took a step back, but the kid plowed forward either oblivious or unconcerned of her obvious discomfort. "I was born on July 7th 2001 in Phoenix, Arizona. I stayed with a foster family for three weeks until I was..."

"Alright, that's enough. Come in." She reached for his shoulder and guided him inside. A quick look in the hall told her that none of her neighbors were lurking about. She closed the door and maneuvered him into the small dimly lit living area.

"Sit," she commanded.

The kid removed his backpack and set it down on the coffee table. Emma sized him up as he plopped down on the stiff leather chair that came with the apartment. He wore a thin, dark brown jacket over a red plaid shirt. His jeans and sneakers looked pretty new. Whoever his parents were, they clearly had enough money to buy him proper clothes.

"So..." She needed more information. "Henry?"

He nodded.

"You're either a very good liar, or you're actually my..." Emma couldn't finish that thought. She tried not to think about the boy that she'd given up. And when she did, she always pictured the tiny bundle she'd held only once. In her mind, her son was still a baby swaddled tightly in a blue hospital blanket. He certainly wasn't the ten year old kid that was currently staring at her with Neal's eyes.

Nope. Not going there.

Avoiding any further thoughts of her ex, the investigator in her took over. "How did you even find me?"

"The internet," he replied simply. "I used a website."

So much for sealed adoption records. Emma rubbed her forehead. "Alright, and were do you live?"

Henry hesitated for a few seconds. "Storybrooke."

"Massachusetts?"

"Maine."

"Maine!" That was a surprise. "How did you get here?"

"A bus."

What the hell?!

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

The boy had the decency to look apologetic. "I really needed to find you."

Emma felt her stomach drop several feet. She was not comfortable with his tone. It was so... desperate. Suddenly a hundred unpleasant possibilities were flying past her minds eye - none of them what she wanted for the baby that she'd given up. Her eyes quickly scanned the boy. He looked healthy enough. No obvious bruises. "Henry, look at me." Her eyes were soft as they met his. "You ran away." It wasn't a question. "What happened? Why did you leave your parents?"

He shook his head. "It's just Regina... my mom. I can't tell you everything. I thought... that you might know already but you don't and... I don't know if I should tell you yet."

Emma frowned as she dropped to one knee in front of him, bringing herself to his eye level. This wasn't going to be an easy question but she needed to know. "Henry this is really important. I need you to be honest with me. Does your mom hurt you? Hit you?"

"No," he answer quickly. His gaze dropped to the floor. "But she..."

"What?"

"She doesn't love me."

Emma released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Aw, kid. Of course she loves you. She's your mom."

He glared back at her with disbelief. "She doesn't. She just pretends to."

Well shit.

The kid was staring at her now with such need that Emma had to look away. In that moment she knew exactly why the boy had crossed two state lines to find her. He wanted a new mother. She stood up abruptly. "I... need a minute. Have you ah... did you eat?"

A low growl from his stomach answered the question for her. "Come on. Let's see what I've got in the fridge."

She closed the door to her bedroom and locked it. The kid was currently perched on a bar stool in her kitchen, consuming an impossibly large bowl of Fruit Loops. Away from his pleading eyes, Emma allowed herself to truly panic. She'd always known it was possible that her son might one day show up on her doorstep, angry and hurt and brimming with abandonment issues. But in her mind he had been older - in his late twenties getting ready to start a family of his own. She would make him coffee and then listen to the story of his life, hoping against hope that it was better than the one she could have offered him. She would do her best to explain why she gave him up. And then he would go, the visit having been about closure and not a quest for a new mom.

"Emma?" His voice carried through the door. "Are you going to eat this cupcake?"

What the hell am I going to do?

"Go for it kid," she shouted back at him.

Some birthday this turned out to be.

Deciding that she should probably change out of her dress before facing the kid again, Emma went to her closest. She quickly changed into her favorite pair of black jeans. Grabbing a faded gray long sleeve shirt, Emma thought about the best course of action. As upset as the kid seemed to be, he looked healthy and unharmed. It broke her heart that he was apparently so unhappy at home, but he certainly wasn't better off with her.

A glance at the clock told her it was just after 8:30. The kids mom was probably freaking her shit out right now. He said they lived in Maine. A town called Storybook... no Storybrooke. He hadn't given her a last name. Emma reached for her phone. Her best bet was to call the local police. She dialed 411.

"Information, how may I assist you," a much too cheerful voice answered.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a number in Maine," Emma explained. "I need the police or sheriff station for Storybrooke."

The sound of typing could be heard on the other end. "I have it. Would you like me to give you the number or connect you directly?"

"I better write it down. One sec." Emma moved to her nightstand and grabbed a pen and pad. "Go ahead."

She quickly jotted down the number and thanked the operator.

It took only two rings before a man's voice answered with a quick, "Sheriff Humbert." He sounded exhausted... and possibly British. Emma could make out a woman's voice in the background.

"Uh hi," Emma wondered how best to put this. "About fifteen minutes ago a kid named Henry knocked on my door. He says he's from your town. Storybrooke?"

"He's there!?" The British Sheriff exclaimed. "Is he okay?"

Before she could answer, Emma heard what could only be a struggle for the phone.

After a few brief seconds, a stern female voice filled her ear. "With whom am I speaking?"

"Uh, Swan. Emma Swan," she clarified. "I take it you're Henry's mother."

"Yes. Regina Mills." Her voice wavered a tiniest bit. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine."

Emma heard a soft sigh through the phone. When Regina Mill's spoke again her voice was much softer. "Thank you for finding him. Do you live off route 22? He knows he's not supposed to ride his bike out of Storybrooke, but he has a tendency to..."

"Actually..." Emma cut her off. "He's in Boston."

The line was quiet for a moment.

"Ms. Mills?"

"It's Mayor Mills, actually." The stern voice was back. "I'm sorry, did you say that he's in Boston. What could he possibly be doing in Boston?"

Mayor Mills. Well that's just perfect.

Emma had hoped to avoid this entirely. "Well," she hedged. "He um... came looking for me."

"And who are you, exactly?"

Emma contemplated lying, but she got the distinct impression that Regina Mills would be checking up on her. And if Henry had been able to track her down, his mother the Mayor would certainly discover the truth. She reasoned it was best to just rip off this band aid right now. "I'm his birth mother."

Had she not been able to hear a questioning male tone in the background, Emma would have thought the phone had disconnected. It was during that deafening silence - during which she thought she might have heard the sound of teeth grinding - that it occurred to Emma that perhaps she had just bestowed upon this woman, her worst nightmare. Her adopted son didn't want her.

Oops.

"I didn't-" Emma attempted.

"Ms. Swan," the Mayor's voice allowed no room for negotiation. "I'll need your address. I'm coming to get my son."

Emma didn't fail to notice the emphasis that the other woman placed on 'my son.' She sighed, "Look, Reg... Mayor Mills. It's almost 9 o'clock. Am I right in assuming that Henry has school tomorrow?"

"You are."

"Right, and you probably have a lot of important... Mayoring to do. You said you live near route 22. That's by the coast, right? I've been up that way a few times for... work. That's at least a three and a half hour trip. If you drive down here you won't get back home til the morning." Emma let the woman digest that for a moment.

"What do you propose?" The Mayor made it sound like Emma was presenting a masters thesis.

"I'll drive him back there tonight. We'll get there before 1 o'clock. I'll say goodbye and be out of your hair." When the boy's mother didn't respond, Emma added, "You'll never have to see me again."

"Very well Ms. Swan. I'll expect you in a few hours."

Emma heard the Sheriff asking a question in the background.

"Ms. Swan, put Henry on the phone," the boy's mother demanded. "Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Yeah, of course. Hold on."

Emma unlocked her door and swung it open. Henry was still at the counter, a large leather bound book open in front of him. "Henry, your mother's on the phone." She held out her cell.

The look of betrayal the boy shot her was jarring. He slammed his book shut.

"Come on kid, don't be like that." Emma sighed. "I had to call her. She was really worried."

Henry took the phone and turned away from her. "Hi mom," he said, sounding so small.

Emma could hear the Mayor's voice. It was muffled, but it didn't sound like she was yelling at the boy.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." The kid hung his head a little as the woman on the phone continued. "I will," he said, bringing his gaze back to Emma. "Okay." He held out the phone. "She wants your cell phone number."

Emma took back the phone and recited her digits. She then copied down the Mayor's number, before assuring the woman they'd be leaving right away.

They'd been in the car for almost two hours and Henry still hadn't said a word. Not even to complain about Emma's impressive collection of 90's female rock. She contemplated forcing the issue by digging out her favorite Alanis Morisette album, but decided on a more direct approach. She killed the volume of The Bug's sound system and began, "So you're not going to say anything?"

The kid didn't react, choosing instead to fix his gaze on the darkened Maine landscape.

They passed Portland in silence. Emma flipped on the windshield wipers as a light rain splattered her aging Beetle. "Here's the thing, Henry. I know you were hoping for a different reaction when you knocked on my door. But you have to understand, I'm not exactly parent material. Besides, your mom... she's done a pretty good job taking care of you up to this point."

That earned Emma a reaction. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the indignation on his face. Finally he spoke, "You don't know anything."

"I know you're taken care of. You've got nice clothes. You don't have to worry about where your next meal is comin' from." For as bitchy has Emma gathered Regina Mills could be, she'd certainly done right by the kid. She clearly cared. And really, that was all Emma could have hoped for.

The boy sighed, "You don't understand."

"Well kid, we're about an hour and a half out from Storybrooke. You've got that long to explain it to me." Emma paused for a moment before adding, "After I drop you off, I'm heading straight back to Boston." It was best not to get the kids hopes up for a prolonged visit. She took on a serious tone as she continued, "And they'll be no more bus trips to find me. Do you know how many sociopaths there are out there? You could have been killed." Emma left off the, 'or worse'.

He considered her words for a moment, finally coming to some kind of decision. He reached forward and extracted that large leather bound book he'd been reading in her kitchen.

"What's that?" she questioned, her eyes still locked on the dreary road.

"My family history," he said simply. Emma glanced down at him as he flipped through the pages. She thought she could make out a colorful illustration of a witch in a black dress, swirling purple smoke billowing around her.

Henry went on, "Everything in this book is true... it all really happened."

"It looks like a book of fairy tales?"

"It is. But they're real. All these fairy tales actually happened. You have to believe me." He looked so afraid.

"I'll try, Henry." She could feel his eyes on her, accusing her of disbelief. "Just walk me through this, okay?"

On reflection, Emma was pretty sure that in her entire life she had never opened such a large can of worms. Big. Fat. Worms. While she didn't regret getting the kid to open up, she did wonder if it would have been a better idea to ask him about his favorite super hero. All kids liked super hero's, right? Instead, she'd been subjected to an hour and fifteen minute lecture on the history of a parallel universe where fairy tales were real and somehow all their stories were interconnected.

"I don't get it," This book was really confusing. "So your mother, the Evil Queen from Snow White, is somehow related to the Queen of Hearts, from Alice in Wonderland?"

Henry nodded.

"How does that work exactly? I thought the Red Queen was from Wonderland, not Fairy Tale Land."

Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if she'd said the stupidest thing imaginable.

"It's not called Fairy Tale Land, it's the Enchanted Forest. And I'm talking about the Queen of Hearts, not the Red Queen. Those are two different people," he stated as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Which world, Emma wasn't really sure. He went on, "And the Evil Queen banished her mother to Wonderland. That's a separate world."

"So now there's two other worlds?"

"There's a lot more than that." He began counting them off on his fingers, "There's also Neverland. The Land Without Color. The Middle Kingdom. The Land of Oz."

"And you're mom cursed all of them?"

He thought on that for a moment. "I don't think all of them. I'm not to sure about that though."

"Maybe you should ask her?" Emma smiled, though Henry didn't seem to find it particularly funny. "Okay here's a question. If the curse pulled people from different stories... different worlds, then why wasn't this world cursed." She thought perhaps she shouldn't be indulging him, but it was kind of an interesting idea. She would be proud of his imagination if she wasn't more concerned about him actually believing all this.

"Duh Emma, there's no magic here."

"Sorry. I should have known." She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. For some reason, Emma's heart warmed at the way that he had said her name. She buried that thought quickly.

The rain had let up enough for Emma to crack open the windows a little. The sea air assaulted her nostrils as they rolled past a sign that read: 'Welcome to Storybrooke.' "You're going to have to guide me from here, kid."

Thankfully he didn't give her a hard time, simply directing them through the empty small town streets. Once they turned onto Mifflin, the Mayor's house wasn't hard to spot.

"Everything's going to be alright, kid." Emma offered as she put the car into park.

"You don't know that." He closed his book and stared down at the golden lettering.

"You can trust me." She unhooked her seat belt. "Come on, you're mom's waiting."

They both stepped out of the car and headed up the walk. Emma glanced back and noticed the boy had left his storybook sitting on the passenger seat. "Wait, you left your book."

"You should keep it. You're the one who needs to believe." He turned and walked toward the front door.

Before Emma could reply, said front door opened.

"Henry!" The boy's mother rushed forward and pulled him into her arms. He allowed the hug, but did not move to reciprocate the embrace. "I was so worried." The Mayor pulled back and examined the boy, no doubt checking for any injuries.

Emma took a few seconds to appraise the boy's mother. She was younger than expected, for a mayor. And now that Emma thought about it, she was really young for someone who adopted a baby ten years ago; she would've been in her early twenties when she brought Henry home. Emma guessed the older woman was no stranger to Botox. And then there was the clothes. She was dressed like she just stepped out of a Neiman Marcus catalog.

Who is this woman?

Emma couldn't stop staring. Seriously, what mom wore heals like that at 1:15 in the morning? On a school night no less.

"I take it that you are Ms. Swan?" There eye's locked. Emma found them unreadable. "Why don't you come in."

Before Emma could reply, the older woman was guiding her son into the house.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Would you like me to stay as well, Madame Mayor," called a male voice. Emma looked up to see Sheriff... Hubbert (no that wasn't right) standing on the front step. Her eyebrows shot up; the man was definitely easy on the eyes, with a beard that really suited him.

"I think we're fine now Graham," the Mayor replied as she stepped into the house. "Thank you. We'll speak in the morning."

"All right then," he smiled. "Goodnight Mayor." The sheriff nodded at Henry and patted the boy on the shoulder as he walked down the front path. He passed Emma without a word, which surprised her a little. She figured this town would be like New England's version of Mayberry, where you got a 'how's it going' and a steaming cup of clam chowder from every random passerby you met on the street. She spared one last glance at the retreating form of the Sheriff before ducking into the house.

By the time Emma closed the front door, Henry was halfway up a ridiculous circular staircase. His mother still had a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be down in a moment Ms. Swan. Please help yourself to a drink in my study," she said with a flourish of her wrist, indicating where Emma should wait.

Once the pair was out of site, Emma took a moment to look around. The house certainly qualified as a mansion. There was something off about it though. It felt so, artificial; like a series of photos in Home and Garden. Just faker.

The study seemed a bit more homey. An expensive looking wooden desk was situated on the far side of the room. Two overstuffed leather couches filled a majority of the center of the room, and a large fireplace, though unlit, gave the room a feeling of warmth. Emma spotted a collection of bottles lined up on a counter next to a tall bookcase. She examined the alcoholic beverages within, but decided against a drink. She was still planning on driving back to Boston.

Plopping down on the painfully comfortable sofa, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Her birthday had certainly not gone as she'd expected. Henry showing up at her doorstep had been... terrifying. But driving him back had been the right decision, if for no other reason than to make sure the kid would be okay. And his mother, the Mayor, seemed to take good care of him. There was certainly no reason for her to be concerned. Well...

"Thank you for waiting, Ms. Swan."

Emma's eye's shot open. She sat up quickly on the sofa. "Yeah no problem."

"Were you sleeping?" The Mayor asked, not unkindly. "I realize it's very late. I do have a quest room upstairs."

"That's not necessary." Emma replied to quickly, "I'm fine to drive. I was just... thinking."

"Ah yes. I'm sure this is a lot to take it." Henry's mother closed to the door to the study and took a seat across from Emma. She had a smile on her face that Emma thought seemed so... fake. "I'm sure you were just as surprised as I that my son decided to track you down." The Mayor was studying her face. "And on your birthday no less."

So that's how this is going to be.

Emma didn't react. After their phone call, she had figured The Mayor would be doing a little research on her background.; or more likely have tall, dark, and Sheriff do it. Being a bounty hunter, Emma understood the compulsion. The part that gave Emma pause, however; was the fact that the Mayor had wanted her to know. This was a display of power. If she thought about it, not the first of the night. In that moment Emma realized that she really did not like Regina Mills.

Emma smiled at the Mayor. "Yes, it was quite a surprise." She met the older woman's eyes. "So was there something you wanted to ask me? Or did you just want to remind me of your power, Madame Mayor."

"You misunderstand me Ms. Swan." Even the woman's frowns looked fake. "I merely wished to make sure my son was safe with you. For all I'd known, you'd kidnapped him. I needed to verify your story."

"And was it satisfactory?"

"I wouldn't have invited you into my home otherwise."

Emma frowned. She's was lucky the woman hadn't called the Massachusetts State Police and reported an abduction.

"So Ms. Swan. I'm curious of your plans now that you've met Henry." Emma thought she saw a flicker of fear on the older woman's face, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. "Do you plan to honor the original adoption agreement."

"You don't have to worry about that," Emma assured. "I like the kid a lot but I'm no mother. And I wasn't lying before. I have no intention of sticking around. The kids clearly got a good life. He doesn't need me interfering with it."

The Mayor nodded. "And if he should track you down again."

Emma sighed, "Then I'll bring him back again. But I really do hope that doesn't happen. I want the kid to be happy here."

"As do I." The Mayor's expression at that moment was the most honest Emma had seen from her.

A silence settled over them.

"While you're here, I suppose I should ask about your family," Regina began. "Do they have any health issues that I should know about?"

Emma sat up a little. She'd been expecting the 'what are your intentions with my son' questions, but this one caught her off guard. "Uh, I'm not really sure. I mean I'm healthy," Emma clarified. "But I never knew my parents."

"I see." Regina frowned. Emma wondered just how thorough a background check, the Sheriff had conducted. Well, she supposed he hadn't had a whole lot of time. "And his father?" The Mayor continued.

"He told me his parents were dead. I didn't ask for details." Emma hesitated, "He doesn't know about Henry."

The Mayor took a moment to digest that.

"Well," she said after a few moments, her most pressing questions answered. "It's getting late."

Emma stood up, recognizing the dismissal. "I'll let myself out."

Once Regina had opened the study door, Emma beat a hasty retreat. The Mayor followed her stating, "Thank you again Ms. Swan." She paused. "I must admit. Meeting you has been something of a relief."

Emma frowned. "Oh? How's that?"

The Mayor was thoughtful. "I suppose you could have been much worse."

Emma smiled tightly at the Mayor's backhanded compliment. "Goodnight Madame Mayor."

She tried not to slam the door too hard.

Emma found the Sheriff leaning against the passenger door of her car.

"Can I help you officer?" Her tone was probably more sarcastic than necessary, but she was tired and wanted to get on the road.

"Call me Graham," he said, oblivious to her annoyance. "I thought you should know. There's a Bed and Breakfast just down Main Street. It's called Granny's."

"Of course it is."

"I called ahead," Graham added. "They're expecting you."

"Well you'll just have to call them back, Sheriff. I'm not staying the night."

"Did you tell Henry that?" His eyes were focused over her left shoulder. Emma turned and followed his gaze, easily spotting Henry watching them from his bedroom window. The Sheriff pressed on, "Emma it's late. Granny's is very nice. It's clean." Emma appreciated that selling point. "I'll even buy you breakfast at the dinner in the morning."

Was he hitting on her? She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's a bed and breakfast. I'm pretty sure that second part comes with the room."

She had to give him credit; his smile was actually sincere. But then he opened his mouth again. "Why don't you buy me breakfast then."

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him. "Goodnight Sheriff."

"Goodnight Emma," he sighed, before disappearing down the sidewalk.

She got into the car and started the engine. As she shifted the Bug into drive, her eyes landed on Henry's book.

In the distance, a wolf howled.

There's something strange about this town.

Suddenly, she realized just how tired she was.

Maybe I will stay the night.

[to be continued]