DISCLAIMER: I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that ABC's geniuses have given us on Once Upon a Time.

This is a what-if story: The way I figure, something DID jog his memory that night in the pawn shop…but it wasn't the windmill…

***Not gonna lie…this was a rough one to write. But I think I finally got it right. And trust me…in the end…it will all make sense***

In the shadow of the toll bridge

Guess who's coming to dinner?

Snow had spent the better part of the morning trying to devise a plausible excuse for visiting the sheriff's office. The last time she'd barged into Emma's workplace, she was still fully 'Mary Margaret' and was pitifully seeking advice about meeting 'David'. So with a cheeky smirk, Graham simply allowed them the privacy required for such 'girl talk'. This situation, however, was much more delicate, and Snow felt strongly that she couldn't just march into the building and demand answers of either of them.

However, the day dragged on, and by lunch time, Snow still hadn't thought of a reasonable way in, nor did she have a clue what she might say when she did. She was actually considering asking Henry for help when the children returned from recess…when the sheriff himself walked in her door.

"Mary Margaret," came a frantic, Irish voice.

She spun around, nearly dropping the piles of folders she'd been re-filing in her cabinet. "Graham!" she cried, dropping the rest of her pile on a student's desk. "Oh Graham," she repeated, catching her breath. "You…you look awful."

It was true. Graham looked as if he hadn't slept in days and he was every bit, if not more so, disheveled as he had been last night. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath and almost no color in his cheeks. "I'm…I'm sorry I startled you last night."

Snow shook her head immediately. "Don't worry about that. Here, sit down." Gently, she met him at the door and led him to a work table in the back of a classroom. "What happened, are you all right?"

He was staring blankly ahead of him. His eyes, in fact, looked as distant and far away as Ella's had, the same look her friend wore last night whenever Snow would try to discover more about her alias 'Ashley's' past. "I uh…" Graham stammered. He was panting heavily, though he did not seem out of breath. "I think we…I think we know each other."

Snow drew back from him. "Of course we do," she said cautiously, glancing between him and the open doorway.

"Not from here," Graham shook his head, "Not from Storybrooke."

Her heart pounded violently against her chest and she sucked in a breath. "From where then?" she tested him, eyeing him so closely now she could tell his lip was trembling and his eye twitching like a mad man's.

"Another life?" he said and finally, Graham met her gaze.

She gasped for in his eyes, she saw the wolf. Snow was right. Graham was remembering…something. But unlike James and herself, restoration of his memory was, for some reason, fragmented. He was confused, panicked. At this point, full revelation might only distress him further. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to be cautious. "Sit down, Graham," she ordered. There was no reason for him not to obey. She moved swiftly across the classroom, closed the door and locked it this time, assured somewhat of their privacy, and returned to the children's work table.

He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, hands splayed open with his palms up as he explained. "I know it sounds crazy, but do you…" he glanced up at her as she sat down beside him, "…do you believe in…past lives?"

Snow drew another deep breath. "Yes," she said; her voice was steady but her pulse was not.

Her blunt reply startled him, but was oddly comforting and he shifted in the entirely-too-small-for-him chair to face her fully. "I've been having…having these…well, this one…dream," he began and then immediately shook his head. "But it's not really a dream, it's more like a…a…"

"A memory?"

He gave her another sharp look. "Yes…a memory."

"About what?"

He hesitated, searching Mary Margaret's innocent face, and gulped hard as the image of her face on the figure of another flashed before him. A woman with the same ebony hair only much longer, holding an apple out to him. Another flash. The same woman. Kneeling before him, weeping…but brave. Ready. Ready for him to strike—

"No," he shook his head, furiously. "Never mind, forget it. It's insane—"

"Graham," she touched his hand before he could stand up. "It's all right—"

"I shouldn't have said anything. It's not—"

"What if I told you," she tightened her grip on his wrist, forcing him to look at her, "that I've also been having…dreams." She knew she must still be cautious. He was, after all, the queen's huntsman and Snow had no way of knowing the pull she still had on him here. But this brave man before her once spared her life. Sacrificed himself, his future…for hers. She owed him.

"You…you have?"

"Yes…and not only that but …" again she hesitated, wishing suddenly for James by her side. He was a much better diplomat. "But everyone in Storybrooke is too. We're all…dreaming."

Graham stared at her for a moment in a deafening silence and then shook his head. "I don't know if that should make me feel better or worse."

She smiled and tugged a little on his arm. "Come here," she said, "let me show you something." She led him over to her desk in the far corner and, after pulling down the shades and glancing back, again, at the locked door, she unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. "Tell me about your dream," she said.

Graham leaned against the radiator by the window. He crossed his arms, suddenly incredulous, but Mary Margaret had not issued a request. It was an order. And for some strange reason, he felt obliged to obey. "Well I'm…I'm running."

"Where?"

"In the woods. Along the path behind Gold's shop." He closed his eyes, his voice growing more distant. "At first it…it seems like I'm being chased and then…" he opened his eyes and they fell on Mary Margaret, whose own eyes were glaring at him so intensely, he felt for a moment that he was back in his dream. "Then I realize I am the one doing the chasing." He stopped, but she only nodded. "I turn round a bend and I see…I see the wolf. The wolf, you remember? I was looking for it last night?"

"I remember. I saw it too."

This seemed to startle him more than anything else. "You did? You…you did see it?"

"Yes, go on." She did not mean to rush him, but neither did she wish him to lose focus or become forgetful. He'd broken into a terrible sweat, and even from her position behind her desk chair, she could tell he was growing feverish.

He dropped his head. "Well…he's there in the dream. Standing on a path. And I know that…I know I need to follow him. He will lead me to…to the one I am hunting. I run alongside him and then I come across a clearing and I…I see…"

"Me."

Graham's head shot up. "Yes!" he hissed.

"And I'm sitting by a pond," Snow continued, eyeing him steadily despite his heightening agitation.

"Yes!" he cried again. How was she doing this?

"And you have a knife?" she asked, though he could tell it was not a question.

He nodded, the mentioning of the weapon overwhelming him with shame.

"And you move to strike. You intend to take my heart."

He was panting now, nearly hyperventilating, his knee bouncing up and down though he was barely still seated on the radiator. "Mary Margaret, how are you—"

"But you didn't strike, Graham."

His mouth hung open. "I…I what?"

She sighed and finally looked down at the bottom of the desk drawer and started rummaging again. "You didn't strike, Graham. You never did."

"I…" he wiped the sweat off his brow and sat back almost in…relief. "I didn't?"

"No. You spared me."

But this eerie clairvoyance she had had slid by long enough and the "Sheriff" part of him demanded answers. "What does that mean? How could even you possibly—"

"Tell me something," she interrupted, having found what she was seeking and stood up, clutching something heavy to her chest. "When Emma Swan first arrived here, you spent a good deal of time with her and Henry didn't you?" The change of tone and subject was abrupt but not entirely unwelcome. Snow thought she'd detected a slight twitch when she'd mentioned her daughter, but it was barely perceptible and Graham readily answered.

"Yes. We uh…well it was mostly Henry running away all the time. Emma and I were constantly lookin' for 'im."

She nodded, slowly circling the desk and then leaning up against the front of it. "In all that time, did you ever…overhear any of the things Henry has been saying about us? About Storybrooke?"

He glanced to the side, crossing his arms and then looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Only a handful of gibberish here and there. Mostly about his mum being evil but," he let out a weak chuckle, "he's ten. Lots 'o lads hate their mums."

"Anything else?"

He looked back at her and her face triggered something. "He was awfully sure about you," he said. "When we were out lookin' for 'John Doe'. Kept prattlin' on about how you were the one s'posed to save him."

Snow couldn't resist a small smile there, but kept her gaze fixed on Graham. "Yes he did, didn't he?"

"Turned out to be right about that one but," he shook his head, "really, I ignored most of it. I mean…he's a little…off in't he? Isn't all that rubbish the reason the boy's in therapy?"

She sighed, affronted on behalf of her grandson though she could hardly blame the sheriff. She'd thought that way about Henry too…once. She held the book out in front of her so the title faced up, the edge of it pressed against her stomach. "Yes…that's true." She glanced up at him with sad, sympathetic eyes. "But that 'rubbish' is also why you're having dreams."

His eyes widened, and nervously he approached the desk, eyeing the book. "What…what do you mean?"

"Only they're not dreams, Graham," she said flatly, tilting the book so he could see the cover…Once Upon a Time. "You were right the first time…They're memories."

Graham's jaw dropped to the floor. "Are you…no…no you can't believe—"

"It's all true. Look," she said hastily, cracking open the book and flipping through pages. "Henry figured it out within days of reading it." She opened to an illustration of the queen, elegant and stately, in her black mourning gown. "See? That's Regina. And here," she flipped a few more pages. "There's Granny and Ruby." A few more, "And me." She laid her hand down on the page bearing the image of a very young Snow White, grieving at the recent loss of her father. She shuddered at the memory but was determined to stay focused on Graham. She looked up at him. "We're all in here. The whole town is part of this world." She gave the book a little shake by the edges.

Graham's mouth still hung open as he gaped at the pages and then tentatively reached forward, almost as if afraid the book might bite his arm off if he touched it. "That's…you?" he peered at the drawing. "Who are you supposed to be?"

She took a deep breath. "Snow White," she whispered.

He repeated the name but only mouthing the words, not taking his eyes from the heartbreaking image of the girl. That face. He'd seen that tear-streaked face before. Slowly he turned to Mary Margaret and pleaded, "Who am I?"

Snow gave him a sad smile and gently slid his hand from the page with her own. A few more flips and she arrived at the gut-wrenching, agonizing truth. "You're the huntsman."

Graham nearly cried out, reeling back from the rather violent oil painting before him of a man holding a dagger above his head, poised to strike at Mary Marg—or—er—Snow White. The girl knelt before the feet of the knight, but she was arching her neck proudly, ready and willing to sacrifice herself. The knight was tall and menacing, and Graham hated the look of such violence on his own face. But what terrified him the most was not the man or the woman, but the figure between them. For lurking in the shadows, keeping a quite incongruously calm vigil over the scene, was the wolf. "No…I would never…I could never kill…"

"But you didn't," Snow reminded him, snapping the book shut, though keeping the place marked with her index finger. "As I said, you spared me. You gave me the means to seek out the dwarfs' cottage and find refuge. Without you, Graham…I'd…I'd be dead."

But these reassurances had done little to mollify the poor sheriff. It was too much to take in. So much for a person to believe. A book? A storybook of fairy tales? A town living cursed under the control of an evil queen? It suddenly occurred to him just how much of Henry's fantasy he must have heard without realizing it, for the pieces were falling together in his head. Yet at the same time, it was all a bit preposterous wasn't it? Mary Margaret was Snow White? He was her huntsman? And Regina. Regina…an evil queen? Surely this was some joke. He knew he was feverish. Perhaps he was hallucinating. "No," he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "No this can't be real."

"Think about it Graham," Snow leveled with him. "Try to remember something about your life here. Something about your past. When did you meet me?" He opened his mouth at once to reply…but then shut it. "When did you meet Regina? When did you come to Storybrooke? How'd you come to live here?"

"Well it was…I mean…you know years…and—"

"Years and years right? But you can't actually remember. It's all a haze?" He had no response. "That's okay," she insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. "I can't remember those things either. I have no past here…not as 'Mary Margaret' anyway…and neither do you."

"Why…w-why didn't you tell me? How long have you known?"

"A few days."

"How? How'd you figure all this out? Who told you?"

At this, Snow hesitated. James had warned her to be careful how much she revealed to Graham. She knew she'd probably gone too far already, but she would not give up her husband. Not with James heading over to Regina's house that very evening. "I…I don't know. I just…started putting things together. What about you?"

Graham shot her a worried look. "Me?"

"Yes, when did you start having the…'dream'?"

His hands came to his hips. He was pacing now. "I…it started yesterday."

"Is that when you first saw the wolf?"

"Yes."

Snow leaned forward. "Just…out of the blue?"

He stopped pacing and sighed. "No I uh…" he shook his head, staring at the floor. "I kissed Emma."

Snow flew to her feet. "You what?"

"I know, I know. It was totally unprofessional and—"

"You kissed Emma? That's what brought this on?" She knew she sounded rather hysterical but it confirmed so much. So far, she and James had been hoping that fixing enough happy endings would free their friends of the curse. But as the huntsman, Graham had no happy ending they could have possibly restored. He'd lived a miserable existence deep within the queen's palace. If kissing Emma had woken the huntsman within him, even partially, that meant finding new happiness in Storybrooke could also save the town. People who had no happy endings in the old world could still find joy in this one. Graham's awakening foretold of hope for all. "Graham," she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door. "I want you to go home and wait for me there."

"What?"

"Yes, go home," she paused and looked him over, "You look like hell, so get some rest, and after school I'm going to find Emma and then—"

"Mary Margaret," Graham snatched his hand away and stopped her. "If you think I'm going to just-just sit and do nothing—"

"I'm not asking you to do nothing. But you're in no condition to…you can't handle this right now on your own and—"

"The hell I can't!" he said, male bravado taking over. "You've just told me that you and I knew each other in a past life—"

"Not a past life. Our old life—"

"Whatever! And Regina really is this 'Evil Queen' Henry's been talking about, and she's got this whole bloody town under her control, and you want me to do nothing?"

"Graham," she took a deep breath, approaching him slowly. "If the queen finds out that you know something? Anything? She'll—" she hesitated, clenching her fists together nervously, "there's no telling what she'll do to you." To her surprise, he laughed bitterly.

"What she'll do to me? What she will do to me?" He brought both hands to his forehead and tugged backwards through his hair. "What more could she possibly do to me that she hasn't done already?"

"Graham—"

"You don't know what it's like with her. You don't know what I've already—"

"Graham please—"

"Did Emma tell you?" he reeled on her, almost accusing. "Emma told you about us didn't she? I'm sure she did. Thick as thieves you two."

"What are you—"

"I don't feel anythin'!" he cried, tears springing to his eyes. "For years she's had me under her…her spell. I don't even know how it happened but I feel…I feel nothin'! Do you know what it's like to feel nothin'?" he pounded his hand against his chest and all Snow could do was gape at him, speechless.

He collapsed back into a student's chair and the room had gone deathly silent. It occurred to Snow, suddenly, that perhaps Graham had it worse than anyone in Storybrooke. At least she and James had had a brief period of happiness before the curse. But if what she had been told of this huntsman was true – abandoned by his parents, raised by wolves, punished by the queen's wrath – well, waking up from this cursed existence only to be reminded of another couldn't be easy. She was about to say as much when the school bell rang, jarring them both from reverie. Hastily, Snow went to unlock the door and students immediately began filing in. What she wouldn't give for an early release day right about now. She hoped she could quickly convince Graham not to do anything rash, but he was right behind her and startled her as she turned back to him.

"Show me the picture again."

"Which one?"

"Of Regina."

She glanced down, the children around her still taking off coats and stowing bags. Sighing, she took the book out from under her arm and reopened to the page in question. The evil eyes of the queen seemed to bore right through her this time as she shuddered and held it in front of him to see.

"There," he pointed at something above the queen's head. "I saw that in one of my flashes. What is that?"

Snow squinted at the page, "That's…" she looked hard…and then gulped. "That's her crest. Her symbol."

"What does it mean?" He looked at her. "I know you know. Tell me."

She took a deep a breath. "It's where—"

"Hi Sheriff!" they heard suddenly and both snapped their heads down to Henry. Seeing the lad now rendered the poor sheriff speechless, but Snow tried to recover for him.

"Henry! I'll be with you in a minute."

But the boy's unassuming expression vanished quickly when he spotted the book in his grandma's hands. "What are you…what—Miss…Blanchard?"

"I have to go," Graham practically bounded out of the classroom and down the hallway.

"Sheriff!" Snow tried to call him back, but it was too late.

Henry yanked on her skirt. "Hey why were you—"

"Not now, Henry," she whispered, nodding toward the rest of the students who had settled into seats and were waiting impatiently for her to begin. "We'll talk after, ok?"

After a slight hesitation, Henry's operation-cobra oriented mind agreed and he took his seat while Snow headed back to her desk. Her mind was spinning, mentally kicking herself for having thought she could successfully reveal to Graham all the answers he was seeking in the twenty minutes the children were out to recess. And now he was off, and who knows what he might do? What he might say to the queen? Would he tip her off? Would he somehow, even without knowing it, reveal to her that there were people in town who had broken the curse? And worse yet…would he get to her before the 'Nolans' arrived for dinner tonight? And if so…was her husband, indeed, heading into a trap?

…

Henry Mills was absolutely beside himself. This was not the way things were supposed to go. This was not what he'd planned on when he went looking for Emma in Boston to bring her back and make things better. This was…this was…dangerous.

Sure, it had been fun driving around Storybrooke and finding Cinderella, and waking up Prince Charming and even getting trapped with Jiminy Cricket. But if he had it to do over again, maybe it would have been better to leave everyone in the dark. Because the night he had in front of him? Well…the way he figured, it would only end one way. Someone he'd come to love in his new family…was going to get hurt.

He never did get his chance to talk with Snow about why the sheriff was standing in her classroom or why, it seemed, she was showing him the book. Halfway through math, his mother had shown up – well, his fake mother – and pulled him out of class. Usually, that meant something bad to begin with. He just didn't realize how bad until Regina put him in the car and said they were headed to the market. "We have a very special evening planned, Henry," she'd said. "I need your help to get ready for the Nolans."

Henry panicked. The Nolans. As in 'David' Nolan. As in Prince James – he had agreed to come over to dinner tonight? Was he crazy? Prince Charming had no idea what he was up against and now, Henry had no time to warn him. That was probably his evil mom's intention – he realized – in pulling him out of class. She had caught on. She must have found out they'd been spending time together. Why hadn't he been more careful? Why hadn't he realized what she'd do when she found out 'David' might be remembering? And now…his grandfather was going to pay.

"Wait!" he'd blurted out as Regina had started pulling out of the parking lot. "I…I left something in my locker."

"You can get it tomorrow."

"It's for a project, Mom. I HAVE to get it done tonight."

"I will call Miss Blanchard and explain." And that settled it. The mayor's word was final.

The routine was one he had almost memorized by now. They went to the market. She picked out the best produce, the finest cuts of beef, the most expensive dressings and appetizers, and a deep dark red wine: Ingredients for the perfect meal. If there was one thing his evil mom was actually good at, it was cooking. So folks never declined an invitation to dinner. She never bought dessert though. No...Dessert – she made that from scratch. And though the ritual had taken place at their dining room table for as long as Henry could remember, he only recently figured out what she was really doing since 'Miss Blanchard' had given him the book…and now…he was terrified.

He'd spent the whole car ride to the market desperately trying to figure out a way to warn the prince. He had a little hope when they ran into Archie – in the fruit section picking out strawberries – when they walked by with the cart. Archie didn't know 'David' at all though, so it was tricky. Plus he had had to be awfully covert with Regina so close by. By the end of their very brief conversation, he fully believed he'd done little more than confuse his poor therapist and send him off with an equally confusing message that he may or may not deliver to Mary Margaret. And even if his grandmother got the message, there was no guarantee she would reach her prince before his fateful dinner.

Yes, Henry Mills was totally beside himself by the time the clock chimed and the doorbell rang at 6:00pm on the dot. His mother had made him change from his school uniform into a clean shirt and tie, polish his shoes and pull on his dinner jacket. And when she glared up at him just before she opened the front door, he knew she was going to watch him closely tonight. He held his breath and turned a little green as David Nolan's wife walked into the foyer.

"Regina!" came the blonde woman's entirely too sweet voice. She wore a long beige coat that settled around her knees over a rather pretty pink sweater and cream colored pants. Her boots were those fancy suede kind he often saw his mother wear, and on her head, a pretty pink headband. She embraced Regina instantly who seemed, indeed, very pleased to see her friend.

"Where is um," Regina peaked over her friend's shoulder. "Where is David?"

Henry's heart leapt. He'd done it! He'd gotten through to James. Snow White got the message to him after all and he'd figured a way out of this—

"Oh, we misjudged a curb on the way over here. He's just checking the tires," said Kathryn.

Henry's face fell. Sure enough, a few seconds later, James himself walked in.

"There you are sweetie," Kathryn said, hooking her arm through her husband's upon his entering. James had on a longer, darker coat than Henry had seen him wear so far, and for a moment, he thought he noticed his grandfather double checking something in one of the inside pockets. But he decided he was imagining it. Yes, wishful thinking – for a few moments later, James had pulled off his plaid red scarf and beret, handing them over with the coat to Regina. After hanging coats in the front closet, she turned and called up the stairs.

"Henry! We have guests!"

That was his cue to come bounding down the stairs and be as charming as possible. Quickly he stood up, brushed himself off and headed down.

"Henry," Regina flashed him a broad smile and settled her hand firmly on his shoulder. "You remember David and Kathryn from the hospital?" she flashed him another eerie grin and then glanced up at her guests, "and from your party of course."

"Of course," Kathryn smiled, crouching down and ruffling his hair. "Hi Henry!" she said in a voice that was far too sugary.

"Hi," Henry managed a weak grin. Kathryn stepped past him and started walking down the foyer with Regina, which is when he finally dared to look at James.

"Hey Henry," James smiled down at him, though he was careful not to appear too familiar.

"Pops!" Henry whispered fiercely. "Did Sn—" he caught himself, glancing back at his mom. "Did Mary Margaret tell—"

"Henry!" came his mother's sharp, commanding tone. Henry spun on his heels. Yes, he'd been right. She would be keeping a very close eye on him tonight.

…

It was getting close to dessert time and Henry was practically nauseous. He'd tried every excuse he could think of. "Can I show Mr. Nolan my 'Captain America" collection?" Henry, we're still eating. After dessert. "Can Mr. Nolan help me clear the dinner dishes?" Henry, don't be rude. "Mom I think there's a lost dog outside!" I've seen him too. I've already called the animal shelter. The witch had thought of everything and he was running out of time. Soon she'd bring out dessert and then it would be all over. All of their work will have been for nothing. The hospital, the coma, the reunion with Miss Blanchard, his new…his new family. The very thought practically drove him to tears. How could he have been so stupid? He'd spent all of that time with Prince Charming at his castle. Why didn't he think to warn him of these Mayor Mills dinners? Why hadn't it occurred to him that his recently comatose grandfather would be his mother's next logical target?

"It was really just the strangest thing," Kathryn was saying as he brought out a tray of coffee cups he'd been sent to fetch while his mother had grabbed…the dessert.

"What was that?" Regina asked with a syrupy smile as she set down her famous…apple pie.

"Oh I was just reminding David of that talk we'd had the other night," she laughed, rubbing her hand over 'David's' shoulder while she squeezed his other hand. Henry caught a barely perceptible wince from his grandfather as she did it, and in spite of everything, the boy laughed under his breath.

"About what?"

"Well it's just so odd, Regina," Kathryn leaned forward as the mayor very carefully cut generous helpings of pie onto their fancy plates. "But I could not for the life of me remember the day we first met!"

Henry gasped and glanced worriedly up at James. The prince had drawn a sharp breath too but seemed un-phased as Regina looked piercingly between fake husband and wife. "Oh really?"

"Y-yeah," James chuckled, withdrawing his cloth napkin from his lap and dabbing the side of his mouth. "Me having amnesia didn't help much."

Kathryn let out a loud, almost embarrassing laugh as if her 'husband's' little quip was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "Isn't that just wild? How can a girl forget something like that?"

"But you remember the important things," James added quickly, looking closely between Kathryn and Regina. Even from his seat at the end of the table, Henry could tell what this little confession had revealed to the queen. Someone in Storybrooke had been thinking too much about the past.

"I don't know, David," Regina replied in a low drawl. I'd say the day a man first meets his wife is an important one."

"True," countered the prince. "But from what I've learned, our recent past has been somewhat…" he looked to Kathryn, "…rocky. It hasn't been perfect," he paused again and covered his 'wife's' hand affectionately before he finished, "but we're making a new beginning." And to Henry's horror, James planted a small kiss on Kathryn's cheek. It was only when he finished with a hug, caught Henry's eye over her shoulder, and stuck out his tongue rather comically that Henry was certain it was still a performance…so far. He shot a panicked look at the pie Regina was now placing in front of them and then back up at James, praying he would notice the signal. Hoping he would figure out what he'd been trying to warn him about all night. But it was no use. James was looking elsewhere, fiddling with his napkin again and adjusting his dinner jacket.

"Well, I say that definitely calls for dessert," Regina proclaimed as she raised her fork rather ceremoniously, indicating that her final…deadly course may now commence.

This was it. It was all over. Maybe he could pretend to faint. Fake a sudden stomach cramp. He had to stop this. He had to prevent his grandfather from eating that pie. One bite and he would forget everything he'd learned. He'd be back under the spell, under the curse. The apples. Those honey crisp apples! One of the many ways Regina had maintained control over the town for so long. The minute someone started asking questions, figuring things out, she knew about it. Somehow, she always found out. And it was the same routine. After all, who could resist being asked to dinner with the mayor on Mifflin Street? And when they left?...Their fake memories were perfectly restored.

It took Henry a while to realize what she had been doing, and even longer for him to figure out why, it seemed, he was somehow immune. Then Miss Blanchard had given him the book. It explained everything. He was the son of their savior, and therefore, could not be affected by the curse. But James? Prince Charming? If he ate that pie, he'd be David Nolan again…again, and probably forever.

"I've heard so much about this famous pie, Regina," Kathryn said, carving into her piece with her fork. "Honey, Regina's apple pie is even better than Granny's."

"Is that right?" James replied, still adjusting his jacket and setting his napkin back down in his lap. "Then it must be good cuz Granny's is exquisite."

"Oh, I don't think you'll be disappointed, David," Regina's voice practically cooed as she took a healthy bite. Kathryn dug in too while James…well Henry got a little hopeful as James hesitated. He had his fork in hand and had cut out a little piece, but he wasn't eating yet. Instead, he was watching Kathryn…Watching her as if he was waiting for something to happen. Regina too was watching her friend intently and as soon as Kathryn swallowed, her eyes flew wide open and she grasped her husband's wrist.

"Oh David!" she cried. "I remember now! Oh how could I be so stupid?" she laughed at herself and shook her head, feeling quite foolish indeed. "It was my father's birthday party, remember? You were just an intern at the firm. It was a big…company…brouhaha!" she threw her head back in relief and looked to Regina. "I can't believe how that just slipped my mind."

"Funny how that happens sometimes," smiled the mayor who, obviously satisfied by the wife's reaction, shifted her attention to the husband.

"David?" she asked in an almost innocent voice. "How do you like your dessert?"

"Mmm," James coughed a little and glanced down at Henry before raising the fork to his lips.

Henry couldn't take it. He'd suffer the punishment later; he didn't care. He flew to his feet and was about to cry out when suddenly, the entire dinner party was startled by a pounding at the door.

Regina's eyes flew in a rage in the direction of the foyer. "Henry," she snapped in a voice quite unlike the one she'd just used on 'David'. "See who that is."

"But—" Henry was about to protest when he glanced back at James in horror. While the pounding at the door seemed (rather cruelly now) to have offered a perfectly timed distraction, James had bitten into the pie anyway and was sliding the fork back out of his mouth. It was over. Regina had won. "Ok," he said dejectedly, slid out of his chair, and sauntered to the door.

Tears welled in his eyes as he walked slowly down the hall toward the sound of the pounding. The foyer seemed to stretch longer than it had in years. No doubt 'David Nolan' was truly emerging now from his coma and reminiscing with Kathryn about all the wonderful things they'd never actually done. Oh, why had he not thought to warn them? How could he have already ruined his one chance at having…a real…dad?

He felt so nauseous he thought he might puke, but he held it together and wrenched open the door to reveal—

"Sheriff?" he cried in surprise.

And sure enough, Graham had just burst through the door. "Henry," he said, looking rather haggard. "Is your mum home?"

"Yeah she's—"

"Graham?" The sound of his mother's stilettos clacked angrily across the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, sliding Henry out of the way.

"I need to talk to you," he hissed back.

"Henry, go back to the table," his mother barked and Henry did as he was told. He might as well now, even though his one opportunity to talk to 'David' without Regina around had come far too late. As he expected, when he returned to the dining room, David's hands were laced together with Kathryn's…and he was kissing her.

"I can't believe I forgot all about your father's toast," he was saying as Henry plopped back down on his chair.

"Oh, I know, how embarrassing!" Kathryn laughed as she took another bite of the cursed pie. "All those board meeting analogies! How could you stand it?"

"Hey, he was finally letting me marry you, Kathy" he cooed, touching the tip of her nose, and this time Henry really wanted to throw up. "I mean, it's still a…little hazy. But I definitely remember that day."

"Our wedding," Kathryn confirmed as she beamed at him. "Finally, something you truly remember." She hugged him again and Henry looked up to see if he could again detect any irony or deception in his eyes. But again, it was wishful thinking. 'David' did not look back at him. There was no silly face this time. No wink in his direction. Henry had lost his grandfather.

"Just come down here and join us, Graham."

"No I don't want to eat, I just—" the mayor and sheriff paused at the entrance to the dining room and Graham looked rather uncomfortably between its three seated occupants.

"Graham, you remember David Nolan, our resident John Doe, and his wife?"

"Of course," Graham mumbled. "How'd you do?"

"Join us for some pie, Graham. I know how you like my pie."

"I told you," he said impatiently, "I don't—"

"Oh please Sheriff!" Kathryn pleaded with him, rising suddenly from the table. "After all, you should be in on this celebration. You're the one who helped find my husband and now," she hastily guided Graham down to a chair – who was looking more flustered and confused by the minute – as she turned back toward Regina with tears blearing up her eyes. "Regina, he's remembering. We were just reminiscing about our wedding day!"

"Really?" the queen's eyes blazed with glory as her gaze fell on David. "Just the wedding, David?"

"Well the wedding's the most clear," he said, his eyes darting back and forth, rather disoriented, as if sorting through the memories that were slowly returning. "But bits and pieces, yeah. I dunno, some of it just…came to me."

"That's wonderful," Regina smiled, though she remained behind Graham, placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing, Henry could see, rather tightly. "Graham, please. Stay for dessert. Then we'll talk about that…other matter. I promise."

For the second time tonight, Henry glanced up in horror as the sheriff too, conceded, and helped himself to the pie. It was official. Operation Cobra was finished. Henry, of course, would never know what exactly he and Mary Margaret had been talking about in his classroom, but whatever the sheriff had learned that day was as sure as forgotten.

The celebration died down rather quickly after that, as it always did. With her objective complete, Mayor Mills was never interested in her guests staying much longer. They were in the foyer later, saying goodbye (Henry glaring at Kathryn's arm hooked lazily through her husband's again) as Regina got their coats. Graham had already left, far more subdued than he had been when he'd arrived, eyes glazed over and looking very much as if he just had a slight head ache. David's eyes were a little cloudy too, though – Henry noticed – a little more focused than Kathryn's. Henry wasn't surprised. She hadn't even known about the curse, so the pie simply reaffirmed its block in her brain.

"Say goodbye to our friends, Henry," Regina said softly, stroking her hand through her son's hair.

"Well, wait a minute," David said, glancing down at the boy. "I believe this young man had a comic book collection he wanted to show me."

Regina started and glanced up at David, eyeing him shrewdly. But, sensing no pretense now, the danger long since averted, she stepped back and turned Henry toward her like an affectionate mother. "That's right," she purred. "We almost forgot. Henry, why don't you go show Mr. Nolan those comic books real quick."

"Ok," he muttered. He turned toward the stairs but Regina tightened her grip on his arm.

"But don't be long," she warned, and finally released him.

Henry simply nodded and trudged up the stairs to his room with David following close behind him.

His room seemed so much darker now than it had seemed in the few short days he felt they were making progress with Cobra. How small and dank it felt now. How dull the bright colors in the room seemed as he led a completely oblivious David into his room, unable to relish in the few precious moments he had with his now, unknowing grandfather. He couldn't possibly explain it all again. And this David…wouldn't believe him anyway. The pie had probably eliminated the amnesia, making him even more susceptible to the curse's false memories.

"Here they are," Henry mumbled, pulling a half dozen comics off his desk and shoving them into David's hands. Then he plopped on his bed and kicked his shoes off, not even wanting to look up into his grandfather's empty eyes.

"These are awesome, Henry," David was saying, flipping through the pictures of heroes that had once inspired a young boy to find his real mom. "You always been a collector?"

"Yeah," he said, still not looking up.

"Hey," David closed the comic and returned them to the desk. "You ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," he replied, kicking his legs back and forth off the side of the bed. "You better get back Mr. Nolan. Your wife's waiting."

"'Mr. Nolan'?" the man said, crouching down in front of the heartbroken boy. "What happened to…'Pops'?"

Henry stopped kicking, frozen to his bed. Surely he hadn't heard that right. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. Surely he—

But when he finally looked up at the man kneeling beside him, his heart soared. This man's eyes weren't empty at all. And it wasn't 'David'. It was James. "You…but…I saw…" but Prince Charming was beaming up at him proudly and there was no mistaking it. The queen's plan had failed. "Pops!" he cried, unable to stop his body from shaking with tears and relief. He threw himself at his grandfather, wrapping his small arms around his neck and holding tight. "How did you…I mean I saw you eat it! I saw you!" he pulled back, struggling now to keep his voice low.

"You saw me eat a pie, Henry. Not the pie," James said, and Henry watched as his grandfather reached into his jacket pocket…and pulled out a small, plastic carton. In it was the piece of pie his mother had cut for him, wrapped in one of those single serving wedge-shaped supermarket containers. "I switched 'em."

"But how did you—" Henry gasped, covering his gaping mouth. "You got my message!" he cried gleefully.

"Of course I got your message," James laughed, tucking the pie back into his pocket. "Snow called me right away after she spoke with your therapist. You were brilliant, Henry. Couldn't have done it without you."

"But when did you—how did you switch them? I was watching you all night!"

"You weren't supposed to see it. And hopefully the queen didn't either." James adjusted his jacket once more and gave his hand a little theatrical wave. "A little 'slight-of-hand' I learned once from a friend of mine."

"Who, Gepetto?" Henry asked, all of his earlier enthusiasm for their mission returning at once.

James shook his head. "Not Gepetto. I don't know who he is here, but back there we called him…Genie," he said with a wink.

Henry's grin was as wide as ever and seemed permanently plastered across his face. He was bursting with more questions now but—

"Henry!" they heard a shrill voice from below. Time was growing short.

"Jeez, you gotta go," he whispered, taking the prince's hand and leading him to the door. He was about to open it when suddenly, he remembered something. "Graham!" he cried. "Do you think he—"

But James was already shaking his head, sadly. "I hadn't planned for that. We didn't know he'd show up. Snow tried to find him but…he definitely ate the real thing which means he—"

"Is back under the curse," Henry's face fell. So close. So close to having the town sheriff in on the operation.

"Hey," James crouched down again. "From what your grandmother told me, he only half remembered. And sometimes only knowing part of something is worse than not knowing at all."

Henry's brow creased a bit, his young brain trying to conceive of a world where partial knowledge was worse than ignorance.

"When the time is right, Henry, he'll remember again. He'll remember all of it. For now he's safe."

The boy looked up, "and so are you."

James fought against tearing up. Red, swollen eyes would be hard to explain to his fake wife downstairs who now believed he could at least remember their wedding day. It had been quite a gamble, memorizing enough details from their conversations at the hospital and the stories he'd pieced together by studying those god-awful wedding albums. It seemed to have paid off though, and succeeded in convincing both Kathryn and the queen. "I'm proud of you Henry," he whispered as he hugged his grandson one more time. "And so is Snow. You were wonderful tonight."

"So were you!" Henry cheered, pulling back from him, beaming. "You really had me going there, Pops."

"Henry!" they heard bellowing from downstairs. "That's enough now. Say good-night to Mr. Nolan."

Henry smirked. "Good night Mr. Nolan."

James smiled. "G'night Henry. I'll see you soon."

With that, his grandfather left the room and Henry watched from his window as the Nolans climbed in their car and drove away. Only then did he collapse back onto his bed and take what he believed was his first deep breath in hours. They'd suffered a minor setback with Graham. Whatever he had learned today was by now forgotten. But James was right. Better that than have him raving all over town about things he only half understood. The important thing was that his grandfather was safe…and Operation Cobra was back on!

***Whew! Well that one was a doozie! Hope you enjoyed Henry's roller coaster ride as much as I did (poor kid!). Must once again thank all of you readers out there, both new to the fic and loyal subscribers from the start. Without your feedback, I'd probably leave this one in 'development hell'. Thanks for the support. Plenty more to come and finally a little bit of Sean on the way!***

***By the way, if you haven't read any fics by KayleeThePete yet, go there NOW! It's awesome***