Hey all! I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to all of you who have read, reviewed, followed and favourited – you guys are awesome! I'm so happy that you've enjoyed where I've taken this story. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

Alas, I do not own OUAT.

Emma watched Henry carefully as he processed her answer, still having absolutely no clue what was going on. And the fact that Henry eyed her as if she had two heads did little to calm the panic that invaded her body – her heart was thumping so wildly that she was sure it was going to explode out of her chest.

"You really don't remember anything after that?" the boy asked again, doing little to mask his wariness. He was leaning closer now and studying her eyes diligently, searching for whatever he thought it was she had lost. Emma saw the hope in his eyes dissolve when he pulled away; obviously he couldn't find it. Whatever 'it' was.

Emma threw her hands up to cover her face, scrunching her features in intense concentration. Maybe it was the medication, or maybe it was because she had just woken up from a coma but no matter what she tried to do to focus, she never got past holding her son close to her as the fog consumed the hospital room. It was like she had reached the end of a movie and that was the last scene before the credits rolled.

"No; I don't, Henry." She didn't want to sound like she was scared but there was no other way of describing how she was feeling. She didn't even feel like she was forgetting anything. If that made any sense. And yet, her son was telling her otherwise. "What exactly am I supposed to remember? What am I missing?"

The kid's eyes burned. "Everything!" he exclaimed, visibly upset over Emma's cluelessness. She hated it when he was upset, and even more so when she knew it was because of her. But everything ached – especially her brain – with the increasing exertion of concentration. No one should have to do think this much thinking upon waking from a deep sleep, never mind a coma-slash-almost death. Couldn't she just close her eyes and pretend that none of this was happening?

It was already overwhelming enough to know that the curse was real and that she had broken it, slaying a dragon in the process – with her father's sword, no less. God, she had a father now. And a mother. Who were fairytale characters.

Mary Margaret, her best friend,was her mother. Her mother!

Oh, more pain. She was not in good shape for this mind-bending train of thought.

"We should get Dr. Whale," Henry suggested, removing one leg off the bed before Emma took hold of his wrist.

"No, please don't, Henry. I've been poked and prodded enough to last a lifetime. I just need to take it easy and allow time to do its work."

Much to her relief, Henry brought his leg back up so he could sit cross-legged on what little space he had. She let out an audible sigh which invited raised eyebrows from the boy.

"Maybe you could give me a quick run-down of 'everything'?" she said, directing her view to her son, and smiling a little to convince him – and, admittedly, herself – that she wasn't totally freaking out. Though, by the look on his face, she wasn't doing a good job of that, either.

Freaking-out was an understatement. The understatement of the century.

"Okay," Henry replied. Flicking hair out of his eyes, he pushed up the sleeves of his sweater to just before the elbow. "Let me see. When the smoke cleared, you reunited with your parents," Emma subconsciously winced at the word 'parents', "fought a wraith, helped my mom open a portal to get rid of the wraith but then fell into it, Mary Margaret jumped in after you and you guys spent weeks trying to get back to Storybrooke. While you were there, you met Mulan and Aurora-"

"Hold on," Emma interrupted, "Mulan and Aurora? As in, Mulan the warrior and … Aurora - Sleeping Beauty?" Did she really sound as ridiculous as she felt?

"Yep. You told me you guys became really good friends."

"We did?" Emma gazed at her son incredulously. It was like she had walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Or Twin Peaks. Or any other television show that liked to alter what everyone knew reality to be. Against her efforts, her breathing quickened and she clenched her fist to contain her surge of energy.

"Yeah," he beamed encouraging, clearly thinking it was a pretty cool thing. "Anyway, you had to fight off ogres and face Cora-"

"Who's Cora?"

"My mom's mom. You really don't remember, do you?"

Emma shook her head.

The boy sighed. "She's a very powerful, really dangerous woman who kidnapped Mary Margaret, threw her in a dungeon and then shape-shifted into her to throw you guys off. But I guess you figured it out because you found them and that's when you…you know…when you first used magic to defeat her."

Swallowing his words, the blonde gazed around the room, seeking anything that would distract her long enough so she could catch her breath and get a handle on what Henry was saying. It sounded like it came straight out of a book; things like that did not happen. Ever. And certainly not to people like Emma. If she hadn't of fought a dragon and broken a curse, she would think that the kid was crazy but knowing what she did know now, there was no choice but to accept it. If that was possible.

And she had magic! Extremely forceful magic by the sounds of it, if she was apparently able to defeat a powerful sorceress. That was…insane. No, more than insane.

I sound like a psycho. It's official; this is crazy.

Sweat beaded on her brow and that pain emanating from her lower back intensified with every stern gaze she was met from Henry. He was scrutinizing her every facial expression, trying to read them and figure out if there was something there, some spark of recognition, hidden underneath the layers of disbelief.

He wasn't going to find anything.

"You know, I'm not the person you should be talking to about your time in the Enchanted Forest. Mary Margaret would be able to-"

"Henry," Emma warned as firm as she could, "I don't want to talk to her. So don't go getting any ideas about bringing her in here."

"But…why not?"

"Because she's not Mary Margaret. Not anymore."

"What do you mean? Of course she is."

"No, she's not!" She didn't mean to shout; in fact, she thought shouting was impossible considering her voice was only starting to come back. Frightening herself, she shut her eyes and exhaled slowly. "She's not the Mary Margaret I know. She's…she's…"

"Snow White."

"I was gonna say different, but sure. We'll go with that. You should have seen the way she looked at me – the way they looked at me. I've never been looked at like that before. All of sudden, she's not my best friend anymore; she's a stranger. And David? I only know him as the guy who broke my best friend's heart."

"She's your mother," the kid corrected. "And he's your father."

"That doesn't mean anything to me. Those people – Mary Margaret and David or Snow White and Prince Charming, whatever you want to call them – gave me away. They shoved me in a wardrobe so that I could come back and be all heroic and save the day, all the while not caring about how my life would be without them; how I would cope with being on my own. Because of them, I've been alone for twenty-eight years."

"But Emma, you've been getting past this. You're so close to your mom now and things are so much better with your dad. We were becoming the kind of family you've always wanted," he countered, blinking back tears. "You have to remember."

This was too much. What Henry was saying must have been true but that didn't mean that Emma was ready to accept it and just get on with her life as if she remembered everything; as far as she was concerned, she didn't know her parents, and she was angry at them. Truth be told, she wasn't sure when she would not be angry with them.

"Look, Henry, I think I need to rest, okay? It's been a long day and I'm really tired and this medication is messing with my mind; how about you call back later?" Tired didn't even begin to describe how she felt. Her eyelids were like lead weights on her face, struggling to stay open whilst the acute shooting pain in her back mixed with incessant drumming between her eyes was making this conversation even more uncomfortable and upsetting than what it already was. Time alone was sorely needed.

"Oh. Okay." He looked deflated. Emma grabbed his wrist again and pulled him into a tight hug, so happy that he was okay and that he was with her. "I'm so relieved you're okay," she whispered into his shoulder.

"I'm glad you are, too. Even if you are acting a little strange."

"Hey!" she laughed as he pulled away with a lopsided grin covering his face.

"I'll see you later, mom."

He hopped off the bed and jogged over to the handle of the door as Emma suddenly spoke, "Oh and please don't tell anyone that I'm…having trouble, okay?"

The boy's shoulders dropped but he solemnly nodded. "Okay."

Emma smiled briefly as he left the room.

Snow sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the hem of her hospital gown. Dr. Whale had come by to let them know that they could go once they had filled out the appropriate paperwork, but leaving the hospital was the last thing on Snow's mind. Charming was lying on his bed, his hands resting on his stomach and his eyes closed in what appeared to be contentment.

And why shouldn't he feel that? That sense that finally things were going to smooth over and they could all breathe for five minutes? That was all he wanted.

That was all she wanted, too.

But then how come she couldn't feel it? The calm that had washed over her husband like a tidal wave had failed to run its course and make its way over to her. There was just something niggling at the back of her mind, inhibiting her from fully relaxing.

She exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Emma was awake. She was awake and she was looking better. What more could she want?

And yet, Emma wasn't acting like the Emma she knew, if that made any sense – which didn't the more she thought about it. She was cagier; more withdrawn than she's been in months.

Oh, this is so stupid! Snow scolded herself. The blonde had just woken up from almost dying; she was bound to be confused and anxious and cautious. Anyone would be.

But she still felt like there was something missing. Call it mother's intuition, or best friend observation, but the way Emma looked at them and acted around them was different. She was wary.

Wary. That was the word for it. Wary with a splash of fear. She appeared frightened and uncomfortable in their presence.

Ugh, this was so headache inducing.

"What is it?"

Snow's head shot up at Charming's murmured question. "What do you mean?"

"What's on your mind? I know there's something bothering you."

"How do you know that?"

He lifted his shoulders enough to shrug. "I can feel it. I've always been able to tell when you're worried. It sort of just bounces off you."

Snow silently cursed herself for being such an open book. Though deep down, she knew no amount of training would ever repudiate that part of her personality. It was like her heart was permanently glued to her sleeve. It was both a blessing and a curse at times. "It's just Emma."

"What about her?" His eyes were still closed but the brunette could hear his tone become more serious.

"She's…different."

With a sigh, David struggled into a seating position to face her. "Define 'different'."

"I don't know; she just is. I mean, did you not see how she was with us back there? She looked at us like we were people she barely knew." Snow flung her arms into the air, annoyed at her own confusion and at how ridiculous she sounded.

"Snow, she knew who we were. If she didn't, she would have panicked and called for security right away," he chuckled softly. "She's probably just a bit confused, like Dr. Whale told us she might be. I was confused when I woke up from my coma-"

"You were confused because you weren't supposed to wake up," she pointed out candidly. "You were cursed. Emma wasn't."

"Maybe so but it could just be that she's been through a very traumatic experience and trying to figure out what that means. She's gonna be fine, Snow. We've just got to be patient and offer any assistance we can."

Charming was right – and Snow knew it. Finally cracking a smile, she stood up and walked over to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him, to which he happily obliged. "You always know what to say, don't you?" she teased, cupping his cheek with one hand.

"Well, I am Prince Charming after all. The name comes with a territory."

Just as she was about to kiss him again, she heard the sound of footsteps entering their room. Turning around but leaving hand on David's shoulder, she saw Henry scuttle in and hop onto her bed.

"Hey Henry, how's your mom?" David inquired, immediately perking up as his eyes landed on the kid. Just the way his eyes brightened and his lips curled into a smile when he was around their grandson made Snow fall in love with him all over again. It was crazy to think that he could still make her feel like that after all these years – despite the twenty-eight year gap. That was true love.

Henry squirmed on the bed. "She's…okay. I think."

"She'll be back to herself in no time," he assured, standing up and walking over to him. Ruffling the boy's hair, he smiled encouragingly.

Snow arched her neck to look past Charming's frame at Henry. There was something about the way he didn't make eye-contact or crack much of a smile that alerted her.

"How was she with you guys?"

The question seemed so misplaced – so much so that it confirmed Snow's notion that something was amiss. Of course, her husband was oblivious to all this. "She was a little tired," he answered honestly, "and I think it's all a little overwhelming for her at the moment but don't worry, Emma is the toughest person I know. Even more than her mother, right Snow?" He rotated enough to take in her face.

"Right," she smiled. And that was true. Emma was incredibly strong. She knew that as Mary Margaret but as her mother, she noticed it more and it wasn't just because the blonde could manipulate the all kinds of laws of reality, it was because she had suffered so much throughout her life and made it out the other side as a better person for it. Snow wasn't sure if there were many people who could say they did that.

"Give her a few days and she'll be back to normal. Sarcasm and all."

Henry still didn't seem too convinced and using the window of opportunity available to her, the brunette jumped in. "David don't you think you should take a quick rest before we sign all the paperwork and collect our things?"

"You guys are leaving?"

"Yeah Dr. Whale thinks that we're healthy enough to go home, kid. Well, technically we'll be going to Granny's but anywhere is better than sleeping in that bed. I've had enough of hospital beds for a while."

Snow spoke up. "Henry why don't we go for a walk while Gramps takes a rest on the bed he loves so much?" she joked, tilting her head to the side.

"I don't need to rest, Snow."

The brunette arched an eyebrow. "Really? David you can hardly stand up straight without pulling that pain face you have."

Charming's forehead creased as he took in his wife's serious face. "What pain face?"

"You know the one: squinted eyes, clenched jaw, knitted eyebrows. The one you're wearing right now."

Visibly trying to loosen his jaw and widen his eyes, her husband gazed at her with incredulity. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever you say, Charming," she beamed wryly. "Come on, Henry," she beckoned to the boy who had brightened a little with his grandparents' exchange, "let's let Gramps have his nap."

Henry and Snow walked in silence for a long time, taking random turns and discovering new wards as they went. Henry was quiet – too quiet. His eyes downcast on the floor, he grappled with the buttons on his shirt, plodding along. Snow put an arm around his shoulder and drew him into her side; she hated to see him so distracted, so lost.

She didn't want to push him, but she wanted to help and she could only that if he told her what was bothering him. "Henry, are you alright? You're really quiet."

He finally looked up at her. "Yeah I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

They passed by a few nurses that Snow recognised and they stopped briefly to trade greets and well-wishes. When departing, each nurse bowed to Snow. Being in Storybrooke made it easy to forget about her status back in the forest; she never thought people would treat her the same here. And she hadn't really experienced anything like that since arriving back to the town, so it kind of took her off-guard.

"That was cool."

"What was?"

"The way they bowed to you. I wish people did that for me."

Snow laughed lightly, hugging the boy tighter to her side. "Oh they will when you're older. You're a Prince, Henry."

The boy gasped, realizing it for the first time. "That is so cool!" he exclaimed.

"The coolest," Snow agreed.

They continued walking again, collecting their thoughts. Having Henry next to her, being a part of his life and getting to experience him growing was something Snow cherished with all of her heart. It was amazing how much she could love the boy – it seemed to grow with every passing day.

"So do you think she'll be alright? Emma?"

Snow paused mid-step to face him. Taking his arms in her hands, she crouched down to his level. "Of course she will be. What makes you ask that?"

A flash of confliction shot through his eyes and Snow's heart pounded. "Henry is there something we should know?"

"No, I was just wondering," he replied awfully fast.

She searched his expression. He was upset about something. She had known him long enough to know that much. Without questioning him further, she pulled him into an embrace and breathed in deeply. "She's going to be absolutely fine. But, Henry, if there's something that we should know about Emma, you have to tell us. Otherwise we can't help her."

"I can't tell you," he replied lowly. The brunette tried to keep her breathing regular. There was something wrong – she didn't imagine it. "I promised. But I think you should talk to her. I really think you'll help." He broke away from her, biting his lip, looking guilty.

"Does Emma want to see me?"

"I don't think so."

Snow stood up straight. That was her daughter's wish but that would not be one she'd fulfil. She had to see her; make sure she was okay. Worry would just eat at her until she couldn't take it anymore. "Well…I'm going to see her anyway."

Henry gave her a toothy grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Emma didn't classify herself as a crier. When she was younger, crying seemed so weak, so pointless. At the age of three when she was put back into the system, no one was there to dry her tears even though it felt like she was in a constant state of crying. There was no one there any time after that either. She didn't have many people who looked out for her or cared if she cried herself to sleep. So when she was the tender age of eight, Emma made the conscious decision not to cry – of course, it was easier said than done. Scraped knees and stubbed toes were hard to endure without a shed one here or there but anything to do with foster homes or bullies were met with nothing but a steely determination to overcome. That insistence on being strong and tough and brave got her through some of the bleakest moments of her life.

But all that steel seemed to have melted. Curled up in her covers, trying not to aggravate her burns with much movement, Emma was crying. She didn't make a sound but let the tears tumble over the grooves of her face, rolling down off her chin. There wasn't any attempt to swipe them away or to stop; she needed to cry.

Not only was she in pain, but she still couldn't remember anything that Henry was talking about. Ogres and magical lands and Disney princesses just didn't make any sense to her – actually, they sounded ridiculous. How could any of that even happen?

And then there was the teeny tiny fact that she had magic and had used it, the result being admittance to hospital…and almost dying. She lifted her hands into her eyeline, examining them as if seeing them for the very first time. Her chin quivered as she put them back down, her body starting to shake with emotion.

Too much. It was all too much.

Mary Margaret and David were Snow White and Prince Charming – and her parents. She was the daughter of one of the most iconic fairytale couples and, according to her son, she was close to them. Or at least close to getting close to them.

But that was just too…too… Ugh, there were no words for that! How could she be so close to them after they abandoned her? After they left her to fend for herself? Because of them, Emma had endured hardship after hardship, doing anything she could to get by, hoping that one day her parents would show up with the best reason as to why they had to send her away. But they never showed. Yeah sure they were cursed – that was a pretty good reason, but because of them, Emma never felt worthy of love or of happiness. The only thing she knew growing up was that her parents sent her away; that was the only truth that stayed with her every day of her life. Every day for twenty-eight years.

She was alone.

Closing her eyes again and releasing all those years of bottled tears, she let out a defeated whimper. Her hands and legs shook, unable to handle the outpouring of emotion. The lump in her throat almost too much to bear.

And then she felt it. A soft heat brushing across her cheek, wiping away tear after tear as they fell. Emma opened her eyes.

Mary Margaret was there.

She thought she was going to fall apart. The sight of Emma crying, despairing, was enough to snap her heart in two. She pulled in the waterworks, recognising the need to be strong in the moment. But it was clear to see that Emma was broken. Her beautiful, strong-willed, amazing daughter was broken.

She could feel Emma flinch slightly away from her touch but Snow wasn't going to move her hand. She wasn't going anywhere.

Snow didn't speak and neither did Emma. The brunette just let the woman weep, continuously wiping away her heartache with her thumb and holding her other hand in hers. There were no sounds other than their breathing and the soft hum of the machines.

After a while the tears stopped and Snow tucked a blonde lock behind Emma's ear, hoping to find answers for her daughter's distress. "Are you okay?" she asked tenderly.

Emma sniffed. "I…I don't know. Maybe."

"Can you tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help-"

"You can't," Emma interrupted solemnly, turning her face away from her mother's touch. Snow slowly brought her hand up to her neck. "I'm fine; you don't have to worry."

"I wish you wouldn't say that."

"What?"

"Don't say that I don't have to worry. That's like telling me not to breathe. After everything we've been through, do you really think that I'll be able to stop worrying about you? Emma, you're my daughter. Please don't shut me out."

The blonde scrunched her face in deliberation. Snow didn't like the look of this. Emma batted away a lone tear that had trickled down to the edge of her mouth and took a deep breath. "I don't remember…I don't remember anything after the curse breaking."

Snow's breath caught in her windpipe and she swallowed hard, trying to understand what Emma was saying. Her hand trembled at the base of her neck, her legs suddenly weak. "You don't?" Even to her, her voice sounded so small, so meek.

Emma shook her head. "I remember the purple fog and Henry being next to me and then waking up in here."

The blood drained from Snow's face. Her hands went numb. Emma didn't remember reuniting with them. Or falling down a portal. Or being in the Enchanted Forest. Or spending time with her - or with David. None of it.

That was the moment her heart broke fully in half.

So what did you all think? So much angst! Haha I really hope you guys enjoyed it even if it wasn't very fluffy. If you have time please review and let me know what you thought! :)