Summary: Henry feels trapped.

Henry turns over the page, frowning at the words.

It is just like the rest. It has nothing. Nothing he needs.

This is the Underworld; shouldn't these books have knowledge destroyed for its danger? For its power?

Frustrated, he pushes it away. It lands awkwardly on the side of the bed with a muted clatter on carpeted flooring. The sheets are tangled over his legs, and he's been holed up in this room for hours now. He just wants the answer, wants that escape he knows is there.

A knock sounds on the door and he scowls at it. "I'm not hungry," he grunts.

Regina's dark head pokes in anyway, lips twisted into a frown. "Henry, sweetheart, you should eat."

He looks at her, his stomach churning. "I'm not hungry," he repeats.

She brushes back her short hair and strides into the room with a plate of food. She never has taken a hint, never understands when he just needs to be alone. He's not sure why he thinks it would now. "It's your favorite."

He stares down at the sandwich, the childishly cut pieces meant for someone half his age. He wants to hurl it across the room.

She sets it down on the nightstand and then sits beside him. She reaches down for the book on the floor and brushes off imaginary dirt with a raised brow. "I know you feel like you're being locked away from everything, but it's for your own good."

He turns sharply. This is too familiar. This is too much the old days, the twist of the lock and burying himself in the book. And it pushes those feelings he'd had when he'd seen Graham to the forefront, the drop of terror in his stomach.

She killed him. She killed him.

(She did something else, something more recently, something that would involve his whole family and extended family, and why can't he remember?)

She looks like she's unsure, her mouth pursed tight. "You know it's for your own good, don't you?"

He looks up with a glare, and then turns back to the book in front of him.

"You don't understand, Henry. Keeping you away is for the best."

(you won't remember a thing)

His head is screaming, splitting in pain and he doubles over to hold his head.

"Henry?"

Her voice is tinged with worry, but she's making it worse. What is this? "Go away," he grits out, and jumps from the bed. He runs out the door, intent on making it out again. It first started when he saw Graham. Maybe with Graham … maybe he can make it better?

"Kid."

He runs straight into his mom in the foyer instead. He is still fighting tears from the pain, and his mom is holding him steady at his shoulders.

He looks up, taking note of her appearance. She is messy, her hair in damp tangles and mussed at the scalp. Her eyes are bright, though red veins scratch across the periphery, like she'd been crying. But her lips are red and swollen, and he glares bitterly at her.

"You've found Hook, then?" he asks automatically. It's too soon. He still doesn't have a plan, he needs more time.

She cocks her head to the side and her hands slip off him. If he isn't mistaken there's a hint of guilt in her green eyes. "What makes you think that?"

She does sound a litter bewildered, so he reassesses. He frowns, and shakes his head. She still looks like she does when she's trying to hide that she's been kissing someone. He remembers from Walsh and the guy before that, from the year in New York.

(part of him feels that bitterness when he realizes that his memories are further back from that, older boyfriends throughout the years that didn't really exist and they should exist because he remembers)

She shakes her head again, and her expression is pulled slightly, strained. "No, kid, I haven't found him. I found—"

Regina's measured heel clicks sound behind him, catching up finally. She waits for mom to finish, hands on her hips. But Emma's mouth has snapped shut, her sentence swallowed back.

Silence stretches between them all for a few beats.

"Then what's our next move?" Regina finally asks impatiently. She obviously senses the tension in the room but doesn't remark on it.

Henry watches his mom's face as she seems to process Regina in front of her. There is something else, something he can't pinpoint. She reaches forward and grabs his shoulder again, pulling him to her. "Maybe we should discuss sending Henry back with Mary Margaret."

Henry's mouth drops open. "What? No!"

Emma's look is one familiar to him, one that was slightly sympathetic and yet slightly stern. Motherly. "Mary Margaret's finding a way back early, it would make sense. And you can help with your uncle."

He glowers, face pinched. "I'm not done yet."

She cups his face gently, brushing back his hair with a smile. "This is a way to keep you safe, kid. That's what's most important."

He glances back at Regina, at the firm look on her face. Underneath everything, he still sees the jealousy. Why is she always that way?

(As long as there are other people in our lives…)

He yanks free from his mom, the pain doubling once again. What is this? He pushes past her and past Grandpa walking in from the kitchen before storming out of the house.

He hears the door shut more softly a second or two later. He isn't surprised that she's followed him, or that it would be his mom instead of Regina.

(it still feels like ash to call Regina 'mom' after his memories were restored and he doesn't know why except for the way he remembers now how parenting should be)

Conceding, he crosses to the swings on the far side of the front yard instead of to the streets and slumps into a seat.

Her arms are crossed in front of her as she approaches, and he is glad to see that she is the only one that came. "You aren't going out by yourself again, kid," she says sternly. Then she visibly softens. "Graham's not always there to catch up with you."

His head snaps up. "You've seen him?"

She offers a small smile and sits on the swing next to him. She grabs the chains in both hands and looks up at the frame. "Yeah."

"He said he couldn't," he muses to himself. He regards her again. He understands the guilt a little better now.

She presses her lips together, and toes a pattern into the dirt. "I think there's more going on down here, kid. More reason why I haven't found," she swallows with a grimace, "Hook. Why Graham's been trying to hide from us. Why the only people that want to run into us are the bad ones. I don't think Killian and Graham want us to stay. And I think it's because there's a bigger plot."

"He's trying to hide because of Regina," he spits out.

She looks up, brow furrowed. She shakes her head. "Maybe part of it. But whatever's going on, it's dangerous. I need you to be safe, Henry. You're the priority, you know that, right?"

He swallows, and his own guilt clings through him. "I know, mom," he says quietly. He does know that. She does always put him first, no matter what. But she doesn't understand how much he needs to help. "But I need to keep my promise."

She furrows. "What promise?"

He offers a small, hesitant smile. "To help."

"Oh, kid, you have definitely helped," she says, chuckling. She grabs the chain and pulls him closer before letting go so they can swing in tandem. "But it would help if I knew for sure you're safe."

"You wouldn't know for sure if I'm in Storybrooke," he protests. "Things aren't good there just because it's bad here."

She cracks a smile. "Yeah, guess you're right, there."

He ducks his head and then looks up. "Does that mean I can stay?"

She blows out a low breath and then turns to the sky. Her lashes flutter across her cheeks a moment before she opens them. She looks strange in this red-tinged world, he thinks. "If you stay, there will be ground rules. Ones you actually need to follow."

"Okay," he replies eagerly.

Her smile widens, and she reaches to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Henry. And I know you want to be the hero. That doesn't mean you have to bolt into action all the time."

He blushes slightly. "I know."

She nods once, firmly. "Good. Keep that in mind for once. Don't be so much like me."

He grins. "It's genetic."

She rolls her eyes, but she is still smiling. "Yeah, I know that. Even Graham does."

He wrinkles his nose and swings harder. "Do you love him, too, then?"

She avoids his question at first, scooting back her seat and then joining him on the pendulous path. She looks thoughtful, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "Does that matter? He's a good man, and he doesn't deserve to be stuck down here."

His heart stutters. "So … so, we'll bring him back, too?" he asks hopefully.

Her lips quirk and she leans her head on the chain to stare at him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she muses absently. She shakes her head as if to clear it. "Yeah, we're going to find a way."

He pumps his legs a few times, feeling invigorated. He will have help. He doesn't have to do this alone! He lets out a trill of laughter, releasing a tension he didn't know he had. He can do this. They can do this.

She reaches out, slowing his swinging abruptly. "If your dad were down here, I'd find a way for him. You know that, don't you?" she asks, her brow wrinkled in worry.

He swallows. "Yeah."

He thinks that's why he's so excited to see Graham. Graham's not his dad, not near what they could have been. But … but he's something. Something before magic was real, before the book was given to him, before Emma came. He knows. He's someone that almost was.

Her words make something falter inside him, though. Graham and Hook aren't the only good ones down here. Sure, most of them have moved on. But he's sure some of these people deserve it just as much. He feels a little of his hope flicker, closing off again. Is he so sure this is the right thing?

She leans over and grabs his hand, squeezing gently. "We can't save them all, but if we can save these two maybe it means something," she says, mostly to herself.

He strengthens, looking up at her. "Yeah. They were both taken too soon, so maybe it will give us some leverage! Because Hook was killed because of something Mr. Gold did, and Graham died because of Regina."

She starts, and her face twists. "What are you talking about? It was," she pauses, and he can see her struggle. "It was an aneurysm. You know that."

He shakes his head. "Magic is real, remember? She had his heart."

"His heart," she echoes numbly. Her hand floats over her own before dropping down. "Henry, what are you saying?"

He doesn't quite understand why she can't forge this gap. Hadn't it been obvious? "That's why he hasn't been close to us. Because of Regina. He told me so."

Emma rises and puts her hands on his shoulders. "No, kid, talk to me, okay? What are you saying?"

He looks up in disbelief. "You mean you really didn't think about it?"

Her mouth opens and then shuts. She shakes her head in disbelief. "No, she wouldn't be that cruel."

He shrugs a shoulder, bitterness rising within him. "She's always been like that. She wants to win."

(… you can never fully be mine)

Emma's jaw quivers. "Please, kid. Tell me you're kidding. I couldn't—it couldn't—"

Henry feels that headache fighting its way forward, but he pushes on. "She took his heart in the Enchanted Forest. She killed him in Storybrooke. Right after he knew about Operation Cobra, right after he started remembering," he lets out, tears suddenly fast and on his cheeks before he can stop them. "It was my fault! I told him! It was my fault for bringing him in!"

She tugs his to her. "Oh, god, oh, Henry, no," she says firmly, but cannot manage more than that. Her own tears catch onto the nape of his neck.

There's more, oh, there is more, but still there is something blocking it from fully approaching his mind. He knows it's bad.

(Maybe he doesn't want to know)

He can only cry in his mom's arms.

His tears have calmed to hiccups when Emma finally pulls back. Her face is heartbroken … betrayed. "Henry don't you dare blame yourself, okay? If what you're saying is real, then it is nowhere in the realm of your fault, you got that?" she says firmly.

He hangs his head and nods, even if he still feels it.

"If it's true, I left you with her," she says next, raspingly, and tugs her hands through her hair.

He gulps around the lump in his throat. He doesn't think he was ever as scared as he was during that time. But it wasn't for him: it was for Emma, for his mom. He had been scared for her.

She is shaking, but she manages a smile. "But maybe your theory is right, if it's true. Maybe we can get him out of here easier."

"Yeah?" he whispers hoarsely, hopefully.

She nods, and he can see the belief and determination in her eyes and it reverberates within him. "For now, let's leave Regina out of it, okay?" she asks quietly.

He nods. "Operation Shoelace."

Her brows pop up in surprise, as if she'd been able to hide that his shoelace was around her wrist for years. She nods. "Think we can handle both? Operation Firebird and Operation Shoelace?"

He swipes his cheeks and nods. "Definitely."

He can save them all.