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…

In the shadow of the toll bridge

Three princesses walk into a store…

Saturday. Finally. Given everything that had happened since her awakening, Snow could hardly believe that it hadn't even been a full week since her fateful rendezvous with James at the toll bridge. The routine of school – once a great comfort and passion for the dowdy Mary Margaret – was getting tiresome, and every day Snow grew more restless, knowing how much of her world, her people, were obliviously wandering this prison of a town while their princess quietly played the part given to her, unsure of whom to trust. Her students continued to stare blankly at her, perfectly ignorant of the fact that they had been in the 5th grade for almost 30 years. The very sight of their innocent faces angered her, and while she was not about to let the quality of their education decline, the knowledge she now possessed of how much they had been denied by the queen's wrath was getting to be a constant distraction.

So it was with great relief that Snow woke to the cheerful tune of one of her bluebirds cooing outside her window late that morning, well past her weekday starting time. She shivered as she cracked open the frozen pane, allowing her little friend to flutter inside and shake out its chilled wings. "Oh my," she muttered as she held her palms together and formed a small cup into which the little bird hopped. "Winter arrived overnight I see," she said. The bird, whose name was Lucy, gave an annoyed little nod but did not appear too put out. Perhaps she had not been perched out in the cold too long. In her beak was clasped a long thin piece of rolled up paper which Snow retrieved at once after gently setting her friend down near the heating vent. Lucy chirped contentedly as the heated air warmed her feathers. "I suppose you'll have to be moving on soon," she said sadly as she unrolled the paper. The bird cocked her head back and forth, looking between her master and the frost still misting the windows. After seeming to consider the matter, she replied firmly with a series of earnest chirps. Tilting her ear toward the birdsong, Snow listened intently and a slow smile spread across her face. "Well I don't know how I'm going to explain that to Emma, but if you're really willing to stay, I'd be so grateful." She retrieved a little bag of breadcrumbs she'd been keeping in her bedside table the past few nights and tossed them to her friend who happily plucked each generous helping from the floor and gulped down her payment. Satisfied that her trusted messenger was content, she brought the unrolled parchment in front of her and gazed at her husband's familiar scrawl:

Dearest Snow…

She sighed, remembering the first time she'd received a letter with this exact salutation. Their future had been as uncertain then as it was now, and their love…just as strong…

I'm afraid I must make this short as it is already 2 in the morning and I've only just arrived at David's home…

She smiled at the phrasing, perfectly understanding his meaning. Without him here, her house didn't exactly feel like home either…

I must also confess I am growing more and more wary of the queen's eyes and ears about town. I believe I may have been reckless tonight in staying so long at the establishment I mentioned I would visit after Regina's dinner. But I suspect you will hardly blame me when you learn what I know. It's Thomas, Snow. He's awake!

Snow gasped, reading the line two more times to be sure she'd understood correctly. Thomas? Awake? Impossible! For she'd seen with her own two eyes that the curse still held Ella captive not two days before.

Believe me, I was as stunned as you are now –

She rolled her eyes…how did he do that?

– but I promise I will explain everything. If you are able, meet me Sunday night at our spot. I will wait for you regardless but do not send a reply. I fear there are eyes everywhere and we can't risk the wrong person seeing a message delivered this way by daylight, nor can we risk being seen too much together…

Snow shuddered, for though he made no mention of it, she could tell by the very unevenness of his script that Regina's attempt to regain control last night had shaken him into a heightened sense of caution. Even this newest revelation about Thomas, it seemed, was overshadowed by concern that they maintain the illusion for the queen that she was still in control.

I love you, my darling. And I long to hold you again. Until then, I will hope for a glimpse of you tomorrow about town.

Yours forever,

James

P.S. Lucy is under strict instructions not to deliver this to you tonight unless you are still awake. So if you do not receive this until morning, be sure to give her an extra helping of sunflower seeds from a most grateful shepherd for braving the cold.

Snow smiled down at the bluebird now sleeping peacefully with feathers plumped and puffed by the warmth of the vent. Then she re-read the line: "I long to hold you again" and sighed. The feeling was certainly mutual. Every day they were apart, Snow grew more frustrated, aware that secrets must be preserved for all their sakes, but no less anxious to have it over with and be able to claim James as her husband for the world to see.

It was with this eventual goal in mind that Snow took to the streets of Storybrooke. Determined to spend the hours she had free from her classroom gathering as much information as she could, it was her intention to catalogue as many of her subjects and friends in town as she was able. She'd already had a few mini-revelations in her head – Granny was, of course…still Granny, and Ruby was Red. And poor Grumpy, she thought with a light chuckle – so often found getting in Graham's squad car at the end of the day. (With a smile, she wondered if James had yet figured out that the loud-mouthed Leroy at the garage was his old war commandant who'd been instrumental in capturing 'Stiltskin. Snow checked her watch – 9:30. Probably a bit early yet for James to have cajoled Marco into giving him that job. James had mentioned that if he made it through Regina's dinner, he intended to make sure 'David' found himself a job that would provide him with sufficient pretext for being around their allies. Snow had suggested he try Collodi's to which her prince readily agreed. But at this hour, he likely hadn't escaped Kathryn's clingy clutches yet.

By 9:45 Snow arrived on the square, shivering against wintery air as she tightened the collar of her blue coat around her neck and pulled open the heavy door of Granny's against the wind. Most of the early morning regulars had come and gone by now, but a handful of booths were occupied with pleasant-enough looking folk. In the faces of some, she recognized a few of the villagers that once populated the town in the valley of their summer palace. But among them, there were none she knew well. Stepping to the side, she dodged a few customers scurrying out into the cold and headed for the counter.

"Cocoa with cinnamon, Mary Margaret?"

Snow smiled, staring at a freshly prepared cup of hot chocolate that Red had shoved in her face. "Thanks, Ruby," she said, plucking it from the waitress's grasp.

"I think you've started a trend," she rolled her eyes, pulling a pencil tucked somehow in her crazy hair and jotting down the bill on her pad.

"How's that?"

Ruby jabbed her pencil in the direction of the door. "Sheriff left here a few hours ago with the exact same order."

Snow blinked a few times, and then grinned. A peace offering for Emma – she supposed – if Graham knew what was good for him. She thought again, as she had so often this morning, of her previous evening's chat with her daughter, delighting in the fact that each conversation brought them closer together, easing the ache she felt at having missed Emma's entire childhood. "Guess you'll have to stock up on cinnamon then." She took a sip and handed Red a $10 bill.

Ruby shrugged and jammed her thumb a few times into the cash register. "Nothing else then?"

"Nope," she sighed, retrieving her change and glancing at the clock. It was strange; though she had no real agenda for today, she still felt as if she were wasting precious time – time that could be spent discovering –

"Nothing at all?" a soft, cheery voice sounded behind her. "Not even a slice of pie?"

Snow spun around, nearly gasping at the sight of Henry's trusted therapist, Archie Hopper.

"Archie!" she cried, swallowing the generous sip of cocoa she'd just taken with a clumsy, rather unceremonious gulp.

Archie chuckled, leaning on the curved handle of his umbrella. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, not at all," Snow laughed, swiping a napkin from the counter and dabbing a few embarrassing drips from the lapel of her coat.

"What'll you have, Arch?" called Ruby, still behind the register, impatiently tapping her thumb against the side of the machine.

"Oh nothing, thanks." Ruby rolled her eyes and retreated to the kitchen, while Archie cleared his throat and turned back to Mary Margaret. "I uh, saw you coming in across the street and thought I'd just stop in and see, you know…how it all…went."

Snow stared at him, quite unable to figure out what he meant…and then his initial greeting finally registered. "Oh! You mean with Henry!" she said, automatically lowering her voice, darting her eyes about in the diner. Goodness, had that been just yesterday? So much had happened since Archie had approached her on her way home with a rather confused look on his face, delivering Henry's strange message about Regina's dinner without even the vaguest of explanations.

"Right," Archie said with a sheepish grin, twisting the handle of his umbrella in the grout between tiles on the diner floor. "I have to admit I was intrigued by that whole business the entire evening."

Snow smiled, "well, you'll be happy to know that that particular phase of—" she dropped her voice in an exaggerated show of confidentiality— "Operation Cobra went off without a hitch."

"Great!" Archie laughed, then dipped his head and whispered. "Does this mean I get to know what the heck that means now?"

But Snow shook her head and chuckled, straightened up, and started walking toward the door. "Afraid not, Doctor. But I'm sure Henry will tell you eventually. He trusts you," she paused and looked to him thoughtfully. "And believe me…Henry's trust is a…valuable commodity around here."

Oddly enough, the cryptic comment didn't surprise Archie at all. "I agree, Miss Blanchard. In fact that's the other reason I wanted to say 'hello'."

"Oh?"

He paused as the bell over Granny's door jingled and a few new patrons sidled by. "Yes," he said, his low voice meant only for Mary Margaret. "I wanted to…thank you."

"For what?"

Again, Archie glanced around before continuing. "Look, I have no idea what 'tell Pops: don't eat the pie!' means."

Snow snorted into her cocoa. The message indeed had taken some work to decode.

"But I know Henry wouldn't have asked me to deliver it to you unless he felt…that you believed him."

She glanced up, her brow creasing a bit, for she was unsure exactly how to respond.

"I know that some people—" he continued bitterly, "—have been critical of how I've been…treating Henry's psychosis."

Snow closed her eyes, trying not to wince against the medical term, and sighed. Now she understood. "Archie," she said with a supportive hand on his shoulder, "I'm not one of them."

"I know," he said at once. "You've been supporting him and encouraging his imagination all along. You even gave him that book if I recall." She nodded. "For him to identify you as one of the purest characters in fairy tale history well…that's no coincidence." Snow actually gasped at the compliment, wanting so desperately to contradict his entirely too generous accolade but knew she couldn't. Besides, he was continuing. "And you've never once made him feel like he was…crazy."

"It would never occur to me," she said at last. "He's a creative boy…and I'm a 5th grade teacher," she quipped with a grin.

"I know," Archie acknowledged. "And a damn good one." He stood there a bit awkwardly, digging his umbrella even further into the grooves of tile, and blushing. "Anyway, thank you for…supporting him." He turned to leave, but Snow stopped him.

"Archie," she said, suddenly curious; for there was something decidedly familiar about this psychiatrist and always had been, but he didn't look at all like anyone from her world. She'd kept meaning to ask Henry about it, but up until now, it had always slipped her mind. Perhaps the doctor himself could shed light on his own identity, though she knew he'd not be aware of it. "I'm sorry but, do you mind if I ask—" she paused as he stepped closer to her, peering through those thick, goofy glasses of his. "Who does Henry think that…you are?"

Archie blinked and then let out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he tapped the inner arch of his shoe with the tip of the umbrella. "Well, I'll tell you, it's certainly the most…creative claim he's made so far."

"Who?" she insisted.

He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat a little too theatrically. "Jiminy Cricket," he said with mock pride.

It was a good thing Snow was leaning against the small ledge near the garbage can with her cup hovering over it, for it slipped from her grasp and landed right side up with a soft thud, splashing only a tiny bit of cocoa from beneath its plastic lid. "Oh jeez, you ok?" Archie scurried to retrieve a few paper napkins from a nearby dispenser and help clean the spill.

"Oh, y-yes, sorry," Snow fumbled, reeling from the revelation. Of course…Jiminy Cricket. How could she not have heard it in the soft cadence of his voice or in his words of wisdom all these years? How strange that the curse transformed him into a person. To what end, she wondered. What happy ending did this dissolve? "I'm just so clumsy today…although," she let out what she hoped was a jovial chuckle, "Jiminy Cricket…really!"

"I know, clever isn't he?" He fiddled again with his handle. "I think it's the umbrella," he added with a twinkle in his eye. "Better than Mary Poppins, right?"

Snow let out another fake laugh as she caught her breath, unable to stop staring at the War Council's most trusted voice of reason incarnated before her. Right in front of them the whole time. A psychiatrist, she thought, oddly proud of him. Of course. "Well Jiminy," she emphasized the name, knowing he would take it for teasing, though in truth it was a joy to say out loud. "May I just say that I can't think of anyone more suited to helping Henry than you."

Archie drew back from her, quite stunned. "Well…uh...th-thank you Miss Blanchard. And I can't think of a better teacher."

Too overcome to respond, Snow just nodded, gave Jiminy's wrist a squeeze and then immediately took her leave, knowing there would be no way to explain the tears welling up in her eyes.

…

By mid-afternoon, Snow's brain was bordering on overload. After her talk with Jiminy, she thought about going to Marco's to tell James. But as she neared Collodi's shop, she saw him standing on the sidewalk under the storefront, arguing with Abigail. Choosing to appear as disinterested as possible, Snow changed course, and headed away from the square toward the shops on Main Street. Thinking on James's note this morning and the tone of worry etched in the phrasing, she decided to wait, knowing it was better that Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan maintain distance in public.

So by 10:00, she'd ducked into a small used-books store and had started scanning the shelves. Glancing up and down the aisles, it called to mind a question that had been bugging her since Henry had given her the book back. Where had she gotten it? For some reason, that was a memory of Mary Margaret's she just couldn't recall. Had she just found it on her shelves at school? Had someone sold it to her? Judging from the age and distressed look of some of these titles, she thought it likely it might have come from here. Perhaps the owner would remember—

"'Lo ma'am," came a pleasant voice from behind the small counter. Snow gasped as the little man's head popped out from behind an archaic looking computer monitor. "Can I help you?"

For the second time that day, Snow's eyes stung with unshed tears. For there stood Happy, and his demeanor certainly lived up to his old name, though after their brief conversation, she discovered that his name here in Storybrooke was Joel. Joel's story was an expectedly sad one: lived alone, made just enough to pay the rent, kept to himself mostly, had been running the shop for "as long as he could remember"…and had no brothers. Snow talked for what felt like hours but was in reality only about 20 minutes. Promising to come back and visit him, she'd moved on to the next shop down the road, her mind spinning: Grumpy was a repeat offender, Sleepy was a night guard at the hospital who worked with Grumpy but didn't seem to like him much. And Happy ran a tiny book shop that got almost no business, providing him nothing to be…well…happy about. So far, her seven dearest friends were not faring well, and her stomach began to churn as she wondered...what had become of Dopey.

Still, one day at a time, James's voice in her head reminded her. By the time she'd arrived at the market that afternoon, she'd run into the Storybrooke versions of Lumiere and Mrs. Potts, Prince Eric's old manservant Grimsby, and was fairly certain that Eric's old mutt Max was the stray running between alleyways down by Tony's Deli. There was no sign of any of her close friends, but she felt strangely that she might be getting close as she stepped into the market and absently plucked a small green basket from the stack just outside the registers. In moments, she'd turned the corner to the produce section and saw a very familiar head of blonde hair bobbing up and down near the fruits. It was Ella – standing there amidst the nuts and berries with a basket around her wrist and the handles of Alex's stroller clasped firmly in her hands. Snow instantly thought of James's note. "It's Thomas, Snow. He's awake!" She held her breath as she approached, wondering what it must be like for the young prince to have broken the curse while his young wife still slept. How awful it must be and yet…Ella looked awfully happy. As she drew nearer, Snow noticed that her friend was literally bouncing up and down as she related some obviously exciting news to the woman next to—

Snow froze and gulped hard, staring open-mouthed at the brunette whose face had just come into view. She would know that face anywhere, for it belonged to one of the strongest, most independent women Snow had ever met – Belle.

"Mary Margaret!" called Ella, but her voice seemed a bit far away to the gaping princess. Quickly, she snapped out of it and tried to force a bit of nonchalance into her gait as she joined them in the aisle.

"Ashley," she smiled, though still unable to stop staring at Belle. The woman met her eye with a friendly, though detached nod. Snow's heart sank a little. This woman did not know her.

"Guess what!" Ella cried. Snow finally wrenched her gaze to the young mother whose grip on the stroller handles was so tight, she thought the plastic might snap.

"What? What happened?"

"Sean proposed!" Ella squealed.

Snow's eyes bugged out of their sockets. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, her eyes glistening as she continued bouncing though, miraculously, Alexandra still slept soundly. Before Snow could recover, Ella threw her arms around her friend and hugged her. Over Ella's shoulder, Snow took another sideways glance at Belle whose arms were crossed while she shook her head. Her expression was one of warmth though, and happiness for their mutual companion.

Snow gave Ella a squeeze and pulled back, clasping both her hands and giving them a firm downward shake. "Ashley, that's wonderful!" she said sincerely. Then she laughed, for Ella was jumping up and down again.

"She's been doing this for about 15 minutes," said Belle, feigning annoyance.

Ella stopped bouncing at once. "I know I'm sorry," she said though she couldn't stop smiling.

"Oh don't be!" Belle gave her a playful slap. "You have every right to cheer. It's about time that lug got down on one knee."

"Yes," Snow nodded, "I agree." Privately, she wondered how much James had to do with this. The man certainly had a way of making people see the truth in their own hearts.

"Oh!" Ella cried, slapping her palm against her forehead. "I'm sorry, Mary Margaret, do you know Rose?"

Snow eyed the princess carefully, looking for any hint of recognition. Thomas was awake and they hadn't known it. Why not Belle? But there was nothing but mild politeness in the brunette's eyes and a… softness about her that Snow had rarely seen in their old realm. Belle always had the passion of a warrior in her gaze, but in Storybrooke…she seemed quite…sorrowful.

"I don't…think so?" Snow extended her hand.

"I've seen you around town," Belle replied, shaking it. "The schoolteacher right?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded.

"Rose French," she confirmed. "I work with Ashley's boyf—" she stopped and glanced to her right. "I work with Ashley's fiancée." The two looked back to Ashley who blushed furiously, but could not wipe the grin off her face.

"Oh, at Collodi's?" Snow asked.

Rose withdrew her hand. "No um…at…at Garçon's."

"Oh!" she cried, understanding Belle's embarrassment. Snow knew that Belle would be unhappy working in a tavern in any world. She could only hope that Storybrooke's version of Gaston was not at all acquainted with her. "Well I imagine you were one of the first to know then."

"Actually no," Rose answered. "He covered for me last night and I talked to him briefly but I had no idea he was planning on proposing."

"I don't even think he did," Ashley sighed heavenward, crouching down to adjust Alex's blanket. "Honestly, I think something just…came over him. He was so—" she looked up, as if searching the sky for answers. "He was so romantic."

Snow grinned, already guessing what exactly had "come over" Thomas. James, she thought. She would have loved to have been able to explain to Ella that it was most likely the realization of others in the town also free of the curse, that there was hope alive in the world once again that had prompted Thomas's proposal. But if she was reading her signals right, it wouldn't have made a difference. Her young companion was in a state of absolute bliss, a demeanor that – if she were to be truly honest with herself – Snow quite envied.

"So when's the big day?" asked Rose as she turned toward the huge display of lemons in front of them and started picking through the ripest.

"Oh God, we haven't talked any specifics yet," Ella said. "But I'm sure it'll be soon."

Ashley might have continued but Alexandra stirred awake rather suddenly and started fussing. Excusing herself from her two friends – friends that only two weeks ago, she didn't know she had – she politely asked them to stay with her basket while she took Alex on a quick bouncy walk between aisles.

For a few moments, the two watched Ella go, both staring in her direction when Belle spoke up.

"It's nice to see her so happy."

Snow turned to her, noticing the sadness in her voice. "It really is."

Rose was still staring, though Ashley had long since turned the corner into another aisle. "I hope that it lasts."

Snow frowned, her brow creasing as she stepped a little in front of Belle's glare, catching her attention. Belle started out of her stupor and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I meant…I didn't mean—"

"No it's ok. I…I kinda know what you mean," Snow offered.

Rose looked up, a bit startled. "You do?"

She nodded. "Happiness…" she hesitated, unwilling to revisit that place in her past when even her own wedding night was fraught with worry of what might come. "...can be fleeting," she finished.

Rose stared at Mary Margaret a little in awe. There was wisdom there. Evidence of a heart that had been bruised, then healed, then bruised again. And something else…familiarity. She knew this woman. She felt it, as she had last night when she saw that man in the booth. Rose opened her mouth to speak, but the abrupt chirp of her cell phone shaking in her purse forced it shut again, and she offered a hasty apology as she retrieved her phone to answer it.

"Hello?" Belle said. Snow waited patiently, hoping the interruption would be trivial and quick. Belle had always been one of the sharpest knives in the drawer. If anyone could break free of the curse by sheer brains, it was her. But as she studied her old friend's face carefully, she saw it twist in anguish, and Snow resisted the urge to reach for her and offer comfort. "What?" Belle cried. "When?" She listened some more. No, thought Snow. Definitely not trivial. "Well is he…is he stable?" Snow's heart sank, instant sorrow filling her soul mixing with the anger already there for feeling so completely helpless here in Storybrooke. "Okay, thank you…yes…no, I'll be right there. Yes…thank you." She clicked the phone off and stood motionless.

"Rose?" Snow tentatively touched her arm.

At her touch, Rose stiffened, started a bit and sighed. "My um…my father was just taken to the hospital."

"What?" she cried, tightening her grip at once. "What happened?"

"They don't know. They said—" Rose panted, her throat going dry. "They said something about bleeding. I don't know I have to get down there—"

"What's going on?" another voice interrupted them and Snow turned to see Ella returning to the aisle, crouching down to put Alex back in her stroller.

"Rose's father was just taken to the hospital."

Ashley gasped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!"

Rose was beside herself. So much…so much to do. And yet, she felt a bit frozen, like the world was moving in slow motion as she cringed against the voice crying inside her head screaming not again…not again…please not again. This was not the first time Mo French had been rushed to the hospital without her being home. Damn the bills and the hours and the time she must be away from him! Hastily, she picked her green basket off the floor and turned back to the fruit, plucking random lemons from the piles without discrimination.

"Rose, what…" Snow glanced at Ella who seemed just as perplexed by their friend's behavior. "What are you doing?"

Rose kept counting lemons in her head as she worked quickly. "I have to um—I have to stock up on lemons and limes for tonight and get these to Jack before we open."

"Rose—"

"I'll have to see if he can take the first shift and—no I should probably call him—"

"Are you kidding me?" the sharpness of Ella's voice startled Snow as she turned to see the blond grab Rose's wrist and stop her frantic shopping. "Rose, go to the hospital."

"I can't. Jack will—"

"I'll get the lemons and limes to Jack and Sean will cover your shift." Ashley replied with a firm nod.

Rose shook her head. "No, I couldn't let you…It…i-it's his one night off this week and you two just got engaged. I won't—"

"You have no choice," Ashley quipped, grabbing the basket from Rose's grasp with one hand while holding her phone up to her ear. "I'm already calling him. Now go. Mary Margaret will go with you to the hospital."

"But I should really tell Jack—"

"No, you heard the woman," Snow found her voice again, still mildly stunned by the control Ella had just asserted. This was certainly leaps and bounds beyond where she was when the two of them were making spaghetti on Barbarac Lane. She might not be aware of the curse yet, but she was certainly getting to be more and more like Ella every day. "Come on, we can take my car."

Unused to this kind of support but too frazzled to object, Rose allowed herself to be handled by her new companion, guided out of the store and driven to the hospital…where her poor provincial life had just taken another turn for the worse.

…

You're not ready for the truth. Emma rolled her eyes. I would never lie to you Emma…but you're not ready for the truth. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel as she turned down the lane that led to the drug store. Admit it…you're curious. Damn the man! You're not ready for the truth. God damn the man! What was it about David Nolan that left her feeling completely unhinged? What was it about his voice, his eyes, his whole…blasted…David-ness that left her so…vulnerable? So utterly at a loss for words? Never in her life had a man affected her so. He made her feel like a child. Like a little girl who was in way over her head, having to go ask Daddy for—Henry's voice came screaming back at her, pounding even louder in her head now than the first time. I found your father…Prince Charming…

No, she resolved for about the fifth time since she'd left the castle. She refused to entertain a deluded child's notion that a man scarcely a few years older than herself could be her father. Shaking her head, she decided she was glad for this particular distraction. Sure, a couple kids shoplifting didn't exactly sound like a job that required more than Graham's presence. But she had this distinct feeling that had she stayed with David on those shores, she would have opened a Pandora's box of secrets that might be better left unsaid. The certainty with which she felt this was staggering enough for one day. No, she made up her mind. She would think of David Nolan no more.

Of course, that wasn't so easy when she stepped out of her car and saw the mayor stalking over to her from the sidewalk where she'd been talking to Graham. "What are you doing here, Deputy?" she barked.

"Graham radioed me over, said it was urgent." At that moment, she saw Graham shift to the side and revealed, to her astonishment, their son. "Henry?"

"Nevermind that now," the mayor said impatiently, stepping in front of her and blocking her view once more of the boy.

"What happened?" she asked, straining around Regina to get a better look. Henry appeared to be standing rather sheepishly against the brick wall of the drug store. Next to him were two other children, a boy and a girl whom Emma had never seen.

"Miss Swan, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing? You're not his mother and it's all taken care of."

"I told you, Graham called me."

"Well he shouldn't have," Regina snapped, glancing meaningfully back at the sheriff (who chose this particular moment to be quite occupied with writing down something on his pad). "Besides," she sneered back at Emma. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

She caught Henry's eye and held his gaze as she answered the mayor. "I'm right where I should be," she said defiantly.

"No Deputy," Regina countered. "Where you should be is following through with that tail." The mayor gripped Emma's arm as she said it, lowering her voice and urging her further away from the crowd.

Emma shrugged out of her grasp immediately. "Already done," she brushed herself off, making a big show of wiping the sleeve Regina had touched.

"Seven hours? That's it?" the mayor scaled her up and down with her steely eyes, crossing her arms and resting all her weight on one leg in an exaggerated show of incredulity. "Is that the kind of work ethic you devoted to all those miscreants who skipped out on bail? No wonder you decided to stay."

"Ok, why don't we just table the sarcasm for a day?" Emma retorted. "I followed him all morning and all afternoon and never saw anything unusual. There's nothing suspicious going on."

"Nothing," Regina glowered. "And you're sure of this after seven hours. Eight tops."

"It doesn't take two days to know there's nothing to tell. The only thing I found out when I talked to him—"

"You talked to him?" she seethed.

"Yes!" Emma hissed back. "And he told me that—" she stopped. What was she doing? What was she saying? As if on instinct, she was actually defending David! Covering for him. Defending a man who so clearly had something to hide, a secret he'd all but admitted he was keeping from her on that beach and yet…somehow Emma knew that it must be protected. He must be protected…and she had no idea why. "He told me that he and Kathryn…are trying to start a family."

Regina blinked a few times, staring into the deputy's eyes. Then slowly (and creepily) a rather perversely satisfied smile curled across her face. "A family? Really?"

Emma nodded, swallowing hard and maintaining her ground.

After another few moments, Regina slipped her hands inside her coat pockets and nodded. "Good." Without another word, she turned to Henry and called for her son. "We're leaving!" She spun on her heels and headed toward the car.

Henry whispered something quickly to the young girl beside him. He then scurried by Emma, mindful that he not delay (as the evil witch was certainly in one of her moods today). But before he caught up to the mayor, he stopped and glanced back, flashing his real mom a grin.

Emma waved…and then gasped. That smile. That grin. She'd seen that earlier today. Though it wasn't in the remotest way possible, her son was gazing up at her, and the face she saw – if only for the briefest of moments – was David's.

***I've never been so humbled and so touched by so many readers. Thank you for ALL the reviews and favs and alerts. I know I'm always saying that, but it's always true.

LOTS of guesses coming my way about the identity of the mysterious 'John' from the previous chapter. I'm most intrigued by those of you who think it's Captain Hook! A very clever guess on your parts! (Much cleverer than me I daresay!) Alas, I shan't be revealing who it really is just yet, but you're kinda close. Much more to come with Hansel and Gretl, James, Snow, Belle, Gaston…and down the line, a Beast. Stay tuned!

(By the way, anyone catch any other 'Easter Eggs' in the previous chap? I thought for sure someone would notice the names of the two people on Graham and Emma's list of daily complaints!)

Anyway, happy reading, writing and watching (new Snow/Charming centric ep on Sunday! So psyched, though I wish David wasn't such a prat on the show!)***