Present Day
Storybrooke, Maine
"Please don't take me back there," Henry's small voice said from behind Emma as she pushed open the gate in front of the looming, white mansion.
"I have to, I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you," she snapped back at him. She didn't mean to be harsh with the boy she had met merely hours ago but it had been a long day that Emma had never expected to live. She had opted for a closed adoption to avoid ever having to deal with this exact situation.
"I don't have parents, just a mom. And she's evil!" Henry exclaimed and Emma could practically hear him dragging his feet as she continued up the brick path to the front door.
"Evil, that's a bit extreme. Isn't it?" She asked, turning to look at her biological son.
"She is. She doesn't love me. She only pretends to." The obvious pain in Henry's voice struck a familiar cord inside Emma. She could remember the foster homes she had lived in with parents who smiled and said pretty words but with no meaning or truth behind them. But, those had been homes that Emma had stayed in for three months, not ten years.
"Kid, I'm sure that's not true," Emma said just as the front door to the mansion was thrown open.
"Henry?" A female voice asked from the door in disbelief. Emma turned to see the owner of the voice. It was a beautiful woman, slightly older than Emma, with dark brown hair that fell barely past her chin. She wore an attractive but professional dress of very pale pink and a pair of black heels that seemed unnecessarily high for casual house wear to Emma. This must be Henry's mother.
The woman came running out the front door to hug Henry, she didn't even spare Emma a glance as she reached out to her son. Emma took note of two other figures standing in the doorway of the mansion, but focused her attention on the woman in front of her.
"Henry, are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?" Henry's mother asked, pulling back from her son and finally glancing at Emma.
Henry pulled back and Emma saw his face contort into a mean expression she hadn't seen a trace of in the past 10 hours she has spent with the young boy.
"I found my real mom," he snapped at his mother before brushing past her and running up the stairs and through the front door.
The brunette straightened up, blinking back tears. Emma felt a strong urge to look away or follow Henry's lead and run away. The very air around her felt uncomfortable as the woman in front of her made eye contact with her for the first time. In her peripheral vision, Emma could see one of the figures from the front door walking closer.
"You're Henry's birth mother?" The question felt like an accusation.
"Hi," Emma said, at a loss for anything else to say.
"Graham's gone to check on Henry," the figure—who turned out to be a woman—said as she reached out to touch Henry's mother's shoulder. "Regina, we should take this inside. You don't need the neighbors whispering about this."
"I don't care what the neighbors whisper about, Mother," Regina snapped back at the older woman—apparently, Henry's grandmother. "But, I suppose it would be more comfortable."
"Look, I don't mean to intrude. I really just wanted to get the kid back here in one piece and make sure he didn't hop any other buses along the way," Emma said. The awkwardness of this encounter was starting to twist her stomach and all she wanted was to get back in her bug and start the long drive back to Boston.
"It's not intrusion. I'd rather like to ask you some questions about how exactly my son found you," Regina snapped again, this time her anger was directed at Emma. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm sure you can appreciate that it's been a very long day and I'm afraid my patience was worn thin hours ago. How would you like the best glass of apple cider you've ever tasted?"
Emma agreed—despite her gut instinct telling her to run—and followed the two women inside the mansion. The interior of the house was just as nice as the exterior with white and black accents blending seamlessly into a foyer and dining room. The paintings and decor had a regal yet sterile quality to them that perpetuated Emma's uncomfortability.
As the three women settled in the study and Regina poured them all a glass of apple cider, Emma learned that the older woman was Regina's mother and her name was Cora. Emma was glad Cora had joined them because she was much warmer than Regina and offered smiles that seemed to soften Regina's harsh questions.
"So, yeah, I don't know how the kid found me," Emma finished telling them her version of the day's events. "I mean, the internet has so many sketchy websites that will sell your information for a buck fifty. But I just want to make it really clear that I did not seek Henry out and brought him home as quickly as I could. I can only imagine the day you've had."
"Thank you, Emma, we appreciate that," Cora said. "Henry has been having many behavioral problems this year, so this truly shouldn't be a shock that he pulled a stunt like this."
"I still would like to know your intentions going forward, Ms. Swan," Regina said, Emma noticed that her glass of cider was very nearly full and her knuckles were turning white as she gripped it.
"I'm sorry?" Emma asked, taking an anxious sip of her own apple cider—which was nearly gone.
"When I adopted Henry, I was told the birth mother didn't want any contact. I want to know if recent events have changed that," Regina explained, her chocolatey brown eyes focused on Emma's face. "Henry is having a very difficult time with the news that he was adopted and I don't need the woman who abandoned him confusing him any further. So, I'll ask again, what are your intentions going forward?"
Emma opened her mouth, unsure how to respond to that statement. On some level, she understood where Regina was coming from. Henry was behaving badly and running away, clear signs that he was not processing his adoption well. Emma had asked for a closed adoption, so it made sense that Regina would want to know if she intended to keep in touch with Henry. But, the way Regina asked unsettled Emma. It was aggressive and adversarial. Emma wondered if this was the same way she spoke to Henry.
"Madame Mayor," a male voice called from the foyer, prolonging the time Emma had to think of her response. A tall man appeared in the doorway, a sheriff badge visible on his belt. "Henry is tucked into bed, safe and sound. If all is well here, I will make my exit. Unless there is anything else you need from me at this moment."
"Thank you, Graham," Regina said, she rose and walked to the door of the study. Emma watched with some curiosity as the pair walked towards the doorway. She noted the way Graham rested his hand on Regina's lower back as they said farewell. Both through her career in bail bonds and as a foster kid, Emma had learned to observe body language.
"Don't read too much into Regina's rudeness," Cora said, abruptly reminding Emma that she was not alone in the study. In fact, Cora seemed to be observing her with the same intensity that Emma had been watching Regina and Graham. "She loves Henry deeply but tends to be slightly over enthusiastic in her defense of him."
"I get that," Emma said. "I mean, I don't think there's anything wrong in protecting your kid. That's exactly what I wanted when I put him up for adoption. I wasn't in the position to take care of him so I wanted him to go to a loving home with parents that would put him first."
"That's a charitable way of explaining Regina's behavior, she's always handled her emotions poorly. But I appreciate your kindness," Cora sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. This struck Emma as odd. Up until this point, Cora had been softening Regina's words but had clearly been supporting her daughter. But, now, it seemed that Cora was mocking her daughter. Regina re-entered the room. Her face was tired but determined.
"Look, like I said before, I just wanted to make sure Henry got home and that his parents weren't the storybook villains he kept saying they were," Emma said butRegina gave her a confused look so she continued. "You know, he's got that book with the fairy tales and he's convinced that everyone here is someone in the fairy tales?"
"Ms. Swan, I have no idea what you are talking about. But, I assure you, I love my son and I only want what's best for him," Regina said and Emma's instincts told her this was the most honest thing that Regina had said the entire night.
"Well, in that case, I think I'm ready to go. It's a long drive back to Boston," Emma said, standing and setting her glass on the table in front of her. Regardless of whatever family dynamics were happening between Regina and Cora. It was clear that Regina did truly care about Henry and Emma didn't think it was her place to interfere any longer.
"Very well, Ms. Swan," Regina stood and offered her hand. Emma took her hand. "Drive safely."
Moments later, as she exited the house, Emma let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. That entire encounter had been incredibly awkward. Even this morning, she would have never guessed that the baby she gave up for adoption in an Arizona prison would somehow track her down, lead her to a town in Maine, where she would have a very uncomfortable drink with his very assertive mother and kinda assholeish grandmother. But, there was absolutely no chance of that sequence ever happening again so now she just had to focus on her drive home.
Emma had just opened the door to the yellow bug when she looked back at the mansion. One of the second story window hangings was pulled back and Emma could see Henry's face as he watched her leave. Emma did feel slightly bad that she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Henry. He had run into the house so quickly and she hadn't even thought of it when she left the house. She had only known him for a day, but she liked the kid. Emma pushed that thought away. He has a mother who loves him, you gave up the right to that kid when you put him up for adoption.
Emma climbed into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb of 108 Mifflin Street. She had almost made it out of town when she reached down to change the radio station. Storybrooke, Maine, had terrible radio station options she thought and settled for one playing Disney songs. It happened so quickly that Emma didn't have time to react properly. One second, she had glanced down to find the volume control, the next she was swerving to avoid a wolf that had appeared on the road out of nowhere. She felt the impact of her car hitting the town sign, the airbag went off in her face, and Emma's vision went black.