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

Fathers of fathers, Fathers of mothers

Ella didn't even have to ask for the rest of the group to spring into action. In minutes, Snow had taken charge of little Alex, and Emma was escorting the frightened waitress to the passenger side of her little yellow bug. Ella had briefly claimed she could drive herself, but none of them would hear of it.

"Do you want me to follow in her car?" Frederick asked as Emma shut the door with Ella tucked inside.

"No," Emma muttered as the two of them walked around the back of the car. "No, head to Garcon's. See if there's anything there that she might've missed. It's dark and she's frantic, so she probably wasn't looking very carefully."

Frederick nodded but looked hesitant as they reached the driver's side door. "You don't want to do that yourself with the sheriff?"

Emma shook her head. "Graham doesn't know about the curse. He'll be looking at everything like a cop. I need you to look—"

"Like a knight," he finished for her, suddenly catching on. "Got it." He nodded swiftly and headed for his car.

Emma was about to yank open her door when she stopped abruptly and turned back to watch him leave. How weird was that? This morning Sir Frederick was still Rick Shields, Henry's gym teacher. A man she'd never met. He was barely a friend now, but he'd followed her orders without question. Emma Swan. The savior…the leader. These were words she'd been ignoring, resisting. But slipping into the role just now was…effortless.

She shook her head, willing herself to focus, and opened the door. "All right," she took a deep breath. She turned to face Ella who was staring blankly ahead at the windshield. "Ashley," she said softly. Slowly, the girl turned. "It's gonna be ok."

But Ella didn't respond. She didn't say a word. She just prayed.

…

"Excuse me," Ashley called to the front desk as soon as she and Emma were through the door. "Excuse me!" She rushed to the counter where a few nurses were clustered. "I'm looking for Sean Herman?"

"Ok, calm down," said a stout, middle-aged woman with wire-rimmed glasses and black hair tied back in a tight bun. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Just tell me where they put Sean Herman," Ashley clenched her fist, thumping it nervously against the counter.

"Ashley—" Emma tried to calm her, but the second they arrived at the hospital, she'd grown frantic again.

"I have to know your name, hun," replied the clerk, "and your relation to the patient –"

"It's ok, Maeve," came a voice behind them.

Both turned as a tall woman emerged from a corridor, dressed in pink and blue nursing scrubs with an overcoat and purse slung over her arm. Her hair was held back loosely with dark blonde ends fringing out from a black hair clip, and a hospital ID tag hung from an orange lanyard around her neck. As she drew closer, Emma recognized the name – Dawn Charles RN. She gave Ella a warm smile and then looked down at Maeve, "they're with me."

Dawn nodded to Emma, placed her hand on Ashley's back and led them back toward the same corridor. They moved swiftly down the hallway, passing a half dozen crash carts and gurneys as they approached the emergency room. Ashley glanced up at their guide and bit her lip, remembering the last time she'd seen Nurse Charles. She had indeed assisted with the delivery and had led Sean to the room the first time he'd visited. "Th-thank you for calling," she managed with a gulp.

Dawn shook her head, "Don't worry about it."

Something in the nurse's tone worried Emma. She seemed to be in an awful hurry, distracted even; she was glancing down every corridor they passed as if checking for someone or something, and Emma was reminded of what she'd overheard the nurse say to Ashley on the phone: I really shouldn't be calling you. The remark had slipped Ashley's notice, but it bothered the deputy. What hospital would elect not to call a patient's fiancée? Emma looked down at Ashley, but the girl was so entirely focused on and worried about Sean, she clearly hadn't noted Dawn's frenzied behavior. So for now, Emma kept it to herself.

At last they rounded a corner and reached the ER. Being so late (and being Storybrooke) there wasn't much activity in the place. In fact it seemed rather peaceful compared to the pounding hearts of the three women who'd just entered. Dawn led Ashley to an exam room, and Emma followed closely behind.

The lights in the room were dim save for the soft glow of a bedside lamp seated on a small table that bridged the space between the patient's bed and a cushioned chair. An overcoat was slung over the back of the chair and there was a half drunken Styrofoam coffee cup set on top of a magazine under the lamp. These were all details Emma noticed immediately of course, but Ashley had eyes only for the patient…or rather, the heavy dark curtain drawn around the bed shielding him from view. Gently, but with the same sense of urgency Emma had sensed on arrival, Dawn led her forward and grabbed a fist full of fabric to draw the curtain back. Ashley sucked in a breath, suddenly terrified of what she'd see when Sean was revealed. "I think you need to get down here right away," the nurse had said on the phone. She'd been too afraid to ask exactly what that had meant. But she braced herself, determined to be brave for both of them as Dawn slid the curtain away. The plastic rungs scraped loudly along the metal rod as Sean's mangled and bandaged form came into view. When he was fully revealed, Ashley nearly doubled over, screeching in horror as her eyes fell on a man she almost didn't recognize.

One whole side of his face was wrapped in gauze as was his right wrist and entire abdomen. His left arm was suspended over the bed in a cast and there were tubes laid across his face feeding air into his nostrils as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths. Tears flooding down her cheeks, Ashley stepped forward, sobbing and hiccupping as she got a closer look at the half of his face still visible. His right eye was completely swollen over to the point where she could barely see his soft lashes peeking out from beneath the inflamed and scabbing flesh. And there was a softball sized bruise along his jawline colored a sickening mixture of red, purple, yellow, black and blue. Remarkably, his right hand lay by his side, untouched and uninjured. Ashley slid her hand underneath his and clasped it ever so gently. "Who…who would do this?" she wept, her voice shaking and uneven. "Who w-would…how could someone…oh…oh God, Sean!"

Listening to the young mother in such agony, Emma's own lip started to tremble and her eyes began to sting. Who indeed, she thought angrily, clenching her teeth. She darted a glance over to Dawn, seeing the same mix of sadness and anger in the woman's kind face. The expression startled Emma for it was so intense despite the fact that she'd never seen the nurse before and, as far Emma knew, she wasn't at all connected to Sean or Ashley beyond having been one of the nurses during Ashley's delivery. Emma again noted the coat slung over her arm and bag on her shoulder. The nurse had been heading out when they'd arrived. But she'd stayed. She'd stayed for Ashley, and showed no signs now of taking off.

"Thank you," Emma mumbled softly, moving closer to the nurse as Ashley sank into the chair beside her fiancée.

Again, Dawn shook her head. "Please don't," she replied gravely. "I…I probably just made things worse." She glanced up at Emma and then shot a look back at the door. It appeared, as it had in the hallway, she was still on the lookout for something…or someone.

"Who do you keep looking for?" Emma hissed, trying to speak low enough so that Ashley wouldn't hear despite the small size of the exam room.

Dawn sighed. "Ashley's not technically Sean's next of kin—"

"What?" Ashley sprang back up from the chair, still holding on to Sean's hand.

"I know," the nurse continued, looking sadly over at the younger blonde. "That's what I said when I realized who it was they brought in. But you two technically aren't married, and I guess Sean never thought about changing the info on his insurance so—"

"His father," Ashley gritted her teeth. Two words, but her tone implied the rest. And sure enough, just as she figured out why it had taken so long for her to learn anything, three men stalked through the door, led by one very familiar, very resentful voice.

"What is she doing here?" bellowed Mitchell Herman as he stalked right up to Nurse Charles, pointing an accusing finger at Ashley though refusing to look at her.

"Dawn," came Dr. Whale's voice close behind him. "What are you—"

"I'm sorry, Joe. But I told you before," Dawn stood her ground, not even acknowledging the older gentleman snarling in her face. "This—" she too pointed at Ashley— "is wrong. These two have a child together. They're engaged to be married. She had a right to know."

"We have a duty to respect the wishes of—"

"How could you?" Ashley cried, refusing to budge from Sean's side though now glaring at his father. "How could you not tell me about this?"

"How could I?" Mitchell countered, finally deigning to look at the woman standing by his son. "It's because of you he ended up like this in the first place."

"What?"

"Ok, now hold on—"

"Mr. Herman—"

"All right folks, how about everyone just calm down."

Emma gasped as the third man finally squeezed his way into the room. "Graham!"

The sheriff stopped. "Emma? What are you—"

"I came with Ashley. What are you—"

"Excuse me!" yelled Ashley over everyone. "I'd like to know just how the hell you've decided this is my fault!" Finally, the girl left the side of her fiancée and stalked right up to Mitchell.

The entire room seemed to freeze, holding collective breaths in suspense as none in attendance had ever seen or heard of Ashley Boyd standing up to Sean's father.

"How? How?" Mitchell shouted in a rage, though Emma noted tears welling in his eyes. "Would he have even been down in West End if it wasn't for you?"

"He works at Garcon's! It's his job—"

"A job he wouldn't have needed if you had just stuck to the original agreement, collected your money and let him get back to his own life!"

"You mean the agreement for me to sell my baby? That agreement?"

"Both of you please," cut in Dr. Whale, holding his hands up and pleading. "None of this is helping Sean."

"You're right doctor," said Mitchell, his eyes darting around the room, his face red and flushed. When phrased that way, the deal he'd cut with Mr. Gold had indeed sounded atrocious. In fact, he'd been ashamed of it for some time now. He'd been ashamed of everything actually – his rejection of Ashley, casting out Sean…everything. But reason and humility were hardly characteristic of the seasoned businessman in the face of such confrontation, particularly when his most embarrassing mistakes were being thrown in his face by a 19-year-old waitress. "Sheriff, I want this woman removed from the room. She is not family and has no business being here." The words tasted vile in his mouth, but he would not recant them.

"Not family? Not family?" Ashley's eyes were filled with rage and tears. Emma could do nothing but look helplessly between Dawn and Graham as the girl reproached her unfortunate relation. "How can you say that! He's the father of my child," she grabbed Mitchell by the arm and yanked him around. "Your granddaughter!"

"Sheriff, if you please—"

"And I'm certainly more family to him than you've been lately. Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you hadn't thrown him out of your life, he wouldn't have had to get a job in West End to support us?"

"To support you, you mean," argued Mitchell, tugging his arm from her grasp. "But I believe you've squeezed just about all you're gonna get out of him now!" he gestured to his unconscious son, appalled by the words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop them from flowing. Not with Sean looking like that…not with the knowledge that his boy had sustained three broken ribs, a fractured arm, a collapsed lung and so much swelling of the lower spine, he might never regain feeling in his legs. "Now you listen to me. I want you out of my son's life for good, you hear me? You stay away from him. Stay away from us!"

"Mr. Herman," Graham tried again from the doorway. "Please be reasonable—"

But his voice might as well have been miles away. Ashley clenched her fists together and forced Mitchell around again, standing face-to-face right beside the bed. "I will not stay away from him. He's Alexandra's father and—"

"He's my son—"

"He's my husband! He's my Thomas!"

The room went still at her outburst, save for a few gasps and dropped jaws. Mitchell gaped at her, staring as if she were crazy. Ashley's demeanor faltered too, and she staggered back from her would-be father-in-law, shaking her head. "I-I mean…fiancée," she stammered, "Sean…is my f-fiancée."

She shot Emma a look full of terror and confusion, but Emma could only gulp. She of course, was the only one in the room who understood what had just happened. But she couldn't very well reveal that with Mitchell, Graham and Dr. Whale in the room. Or Nurse Charles for that matter, who seemed to have nothing but pity and understanding for Ashley. But even Dawn now looked at the girl in surprise, unsure of what to make of her strange remark.

Emma held her breath, staring at Ashley…at Ella?…unnerved by the dead silence of the room. She'd said Sean was her husband. Called him Thomas. Was this, in fact, Ashley waking up? Emma had never seen anyone wake up before. James had told her of how he'd woken Snow, how Kathryn had emerged from therapy as Abigail. But she hadn't seen it happen yet. Was this it? Was she about to become…Cinderella?

But as the seconds torturously passed, it became clear that Ashley was just as confused as the rest of them and seemed quite the boat without an anchor amidst the sea of eyes all glaring at her. "I-I don't…I'm not sure…why…" she mumbled at no one in particular as she glanced back at Sean.

"Sheriff?" Mitchell said, his voice stone-cold. "Remove this woman at once. She's obviously…unstable."

Graham looked nervously from Mitchell to Emma with a helpless shrug. "Mr. Herman," he made one last attempt. "Won't you at least—"

"Sheriff?" he snarled back.

"It's ok Graham," said Emma suddenly, walking over to Ashley and placing both hands on her shoulders. Thankfully, the girl was in shock, and did not object to the deputy leading her out of the room. Emma felt awful about pulling her away from Thomas, about giving his selfish prick of a father the satisfaction of having won, but she also knew that it would do no good for the people in this room to further speculate on what exactly Ashley had meant in calling Sean her husband. In calling him 'Thomas'. The girl needed answers…and she wouldn't get them here.

On the way out, she nodded to Graham as if to say we'll talk later, and then without delay, she ushered Ashley back down the corridor and out of sight.

…

Ignoring the painful implications of having a house completely unprepared and unsuited for a newborn, Snow set about converting her bed into a makeshift crib. Alex was sitting up in her car seat, clearly sick of the thing by now and squirming impatiently to be free. She had wailed loudly for her mother after Ella left, but Snow managed to calm her down, bouncing her playfully on her shoulder, walking her around the first floor as fast as her injured ankle could carry her, and singing lullabies that eventually lulled her to sleep. But as soon as she'd placed the child back in the seat, the girl began to fuss. Snow couldn't blame her, she supposed. Her mother had driven all over town looking for Thomas in the dead of night. If Snow had been strapped into that thing for hours, she'd be fussy too. So she set the carrier on the floor by her bed in the small alcove at the far end of the room. Then she gathered all the thick pillows she could find, creating a small, but secure little square in the middle of the mattress. She lifted Alexandra from her car seat and placed her in the center of the makeshift crib, stepped back and folded her hands together, holding her breath. Alexandra balled up her hands into tiny fists as she pushed herself up on all fours, cocking her little head from one side to the other, inspecting her surroundings. The bed was unfamiliar, but it was soft…and it wasn't a car seat. Within minutes, she plopped herself down and went to sleep.

Now, as Snow leaned against a support beam, watching the child sleep, she couldn't help but let her thoughts wander back to the panic-stricken look on Ella's face. What a complete contrast to the excited young woman she'd seen the other day at the market, the joy and bliss of a young woman about to be married. The change in her dear friend was enough to make anyone cry, and indeed her eyes grew moist as Ella's baby girl continued to sleep. But when tears threatened to spill, a soft knock at the door startled her out of it, and Snow spun on her heel, hobbling quietly across the room.

To be safe, she checked through the peep hole before answering, but she already knew who it was. She let out a heavy sigh as she pulled open the door and James stepped inside. "You didn't have to come," she said with a tired smile.

The look he gave her bordered on sardonic as he closed the door softly behind him. "Are you kidding? I left as soon as I got your message."

She nodded, slipping immediately into his arms and breathing in his comforting scent. For a few minutes, she just stood there, leaning against him for support. "Did you tell Abigail?"

James pulled back and brushed a tendril of hair off her face. "Nah, she was sound asleep by about 10:00. I left Lucy there with a note though." Snow nodded and then pulled away from him, turning back toward the alcove and moving slowly to the couch. "You ok?" asked James, slipping his coat from his shoulders and throwing it on the hook by the door.

"No," Snow said quietly. "No I'm not."

James didn't like the sound of that one bit. But he waited patiently, following her to the couch but allowing her space.

"I don't think I can take much more of this," she said, still not facing him. "Every time something good happens, it's followed by something bad."

"Snow—"

"No, think about it," she turned then, grabbing on to the couch for support. James glanced down at the clumsy brace around the ankle she still favored. Were it anyone else, he would have insisted she sit down, but he knew better with Snow. "We find the dwarfs' cottage, and a few hours later I'm kidnapped by the Mad Hatter," she said bitterly. "You help Emma track down Michael Tillman? He disappears…along with his kids."

"We still don't know—"

"Belle, Jiminy and Geppetto join the fight? Abigail and Frederick wake up? And then Thomas is beaten within an inch of his life!"

"Snow—" he tried again, this time reaching for her. But she shook her head.

"Every time, James. Something bad…and it's all because of me."

James gaped at her, snatching his hand back. "What?"

"It is, all of it."

"That's absurd—"

"It's the truth."

"No it's—"

"I'm not saying it's my fault," she granted him with an impatient sigh, determined that he understand where she was coming from. "This isn't about 'fault'. There's nothing I could've done and no way I could've known what her mother would do, I know that." She'd memorized the arguments. She'd heard them before time and again from those determined to absolve her of responsibility…despite how much she deserved it. "But it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what happened. If I hadn't told Cora about Daniel—"

"If you hadn't told Cora about Regina's lover, the witch would have found out some other way. You know that." Snow sighed, hugging herself around the middle. She turned to lean against the back of the couch as he continued. "The level of power that woman wielded?" he said, "Do you really think she needed you? Do you really think it all came to down to whether or not she could manipulate an eight-year-old girl?" He reached for her and turned her gently to face him. "She could've conjured herself anywhere. Regina was destined for darkness just like her mother. You? Only ever acted out of goodness." He brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, pausing to catch a stray tear as it trickled from the corner of her eye. "Something that evil…could never have been born from something so good."

"You can't know that for certain," she whispered.

But he shook his head, cupping her face in his hands. "I do know that. I know you. She murdered your father Snow, and you still found it in your heart to forgive her – to write her a letter begging that your people be spared the suffering incurred by her wrath."

"James—"

"While she turned an innocent child into a scapegoat because she was too much of a coward to confront her own mother."

She sighed and looked down. It would be so easy to believe him. To absolve herself once and for all of the guilt she carried with her, the burden of knowing it was Regina's grudge against her that had set this entire world into motion.

"Come on Snow, we've had this argument before. Back when this whole thing started. When she first threatened us with the curse,I told you. True evil only comes to those with darkness already in their hearts. And for as long as I've known you, your heart has only ever been pure." He held her gaze, thankful she seemed to be finally listening as he added with a playful chuckle, "Well…all except that one time you shot me with an arrow." Her head shot up and she cocked an eyebrow, but he saw a glint of humor return to her gaze, and he smiled. "But I let you off the hook for that years ago," he amended, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

Snow shook her head and rolled her eyes, but in the end she offered a weak laugh. "I love you," she whispered. James parted his arms and she slipped easily into them, melting into his embrace. "So much," she added, running her fingers through his hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. Yes, she thought…it would be so easy to believe him.

"I love you," he whispered back, kissing the top of her head as he smoothed his palms up and down her back. In silence they held each other, each aware of the comfort and peace inspired by the other's embrace. Snow might have been content to stay there forever, but a thought suddenly occurred, and she smiled as she drew back. "You should've seen her tonight," she said. He gave her a quizzical look. "Emma."

He broke into a grin. "Oh yeah?"

"Sprang right into action – got Ella in the car, sent Frederick down to the crime scene to look for signs of magic," she paused and cupped her hand over his cheek. "She's just like you."

James slipped his hands down around her waist and lifted her up to him. "Funny…I was about to say the same thing," he rasped as he bent his head to hers and kissed her softly on the lips.

In an instant, Snow was transported back to their private rendezvous in the caverns –the last time the two of them were alone together – and her passion reignited at his touch. Somewhere between Jefferson's mansion and Belle's memory crisis, those stolen hours at the cottage had started to feel like a dream. But not anymore.

She ran her fingers through his hair and sealed her mouth over his, deepening the rather chaste kiss he'd begun with that fiery enthusiasm he so loved about her. James responded in kind, lifting her as if she weighed nothing so that she was perched on the back of the couch. He whispered her name in the breaths between kisses, tightening his grip around her waist with one arm as his other hand drifted lower, skimming lightly down her forearm and then smoothing over her thighs. He paused at the bend of her knee and gently tugged up on her leg, urging her to wrap it around his own as he pulled her even closer. She arched into him, shivering with want, and she just might have allowed herself to be completely carried away…except for the sudden and sobering sounds of Ella's baby girl stirring from the alcove in the corner.

Snow froze, having almost forgotten she was there, and the two of them turned to see little Alexandra peeking her head out above her wall of pillows, coughing and gurgling and looking for some attention. Snow rushed over to the bed at once, swiping a cloth slung over the back of the couch as she went. Expertly, she laid the cloth on her shoulder and then swept the child up in her arms, positioning Alex upright so she could cough up a bit of spittle. Then Snow cooed and soothed the child gently, keeping her from fussing again, murmuring sweet incoherent nonsense as she bounced her up and down on her shoulder. "Isn't she beautiful?" she asked James off-handedly though she continued to focus on the baby.

James, still getting ahold of himself after the abrupt end of their embrace, rubbed the back of his neck and took a few more steps closer to the bedroom. But he froze in his tracks as soon as Snow lifted the child into her arms. He hadn't at all expected to be so moved by the sight of his wife attending a newborn, though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He swallowed hard, grabbing on to the back of the couch for support as she smoothed her hand over Alexandra's tiny head and rocked her back and forth. "Beautiful," James said thickly. And Snow lifted her gaze at his tone.

Their eyes locked, a wordless exchange of emotions borne, regrets shared. In the quiet stillness of the room, punctuated only by the soft mewling of a child that belonged to neither of them, James and Snow recognized that this was how it should have been. This is what they should have had. A home filled with love. A child stirring in the corner as they talked about their day. Slowly, Snow made her way back to him, Alexandra snuggled in against her shoulder. "Have you…met her yet?" she asked, continuing to focus on the baby rather than what she knew they both were thinking.

He shook his head, taking a step back as she approached. "No I've…I've uh…only seen…pictures."

Snow glanced down at the snoozing girl and then shifted her towards him. "Here," she said.

But James didn't budge. "No…I…I can't," he gulped. He'd gone absolutely rigid with terror.

"It's ok, James," she whispered, but not backing off.

"Snow…please…last time I…the last time I held a—"

"Shh," she soothed, reaching for his hand. "There are no guards here. No swords, no wardrobes…just me."

Somewhere, deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. He'd spent the last few days facing some pretty tough challenges: striking bargains with 'Stiltskin, rescuing his wife from a lunatic, not to mention the monumental task of convincing Emma to open up her mind…how could he possibly be afraid of this tiny little princess before him? Snow squeezed his hand and he looked down, feeling her strength in her grasp, and finally…he gave in. Slowly, he bent down to her level, scooping the child up in his arms with the upmost care. Immediately the little girl curled up against him, cuddling into his chest as he held her. He stared in wonder as Alex drifted right off to sleep, feeling safe and content in the big man's arms. His earlier anxiety vanished as he watched this perfect little angel stretch and yawn and then settle back against his chest. "Gods, she looks just like Ella," he murmured. When Snow didn't answer, he glanced up. She was staring at him now just as he had been a few moments ago, looking with such longing it made his heart ache.

"James?" she said softly. He held her gaze, waiting patiently for her to continue. "Do you think that…I mean when this is all over, if we…you know, make it through," she fumbled a bit through her words, though she knew she needn't be so anxious. After all, he was thinking the same thing. "Do you think that Emma would mind…I mean do you think she'd be offended if…if someday we wanted to…"

James cradled Alex securely in one arm so he could reach out and stroke his wife's cheek with the back of his hand. "To try again?" he said.

She nodded, covering his hand with her own.

He smiled. "I think she'd cheer."

As if on cue, the front door knob jiggled and the door swung open. Snow and James whirled around just in time to see Ella walking towards them with Emma not far behind. Without a word – almost robotically – the girl took Alexandra from James and walked passed them both, moving to stand by the far window of the alcove and stare out the window.

At a complete loss for what to say or do, the pair looked at each other and then glanced back at Emma who had followed Ella inside and closed the door behind them. "Hey," she said softly to her parents as they moved closer to the door, voices hushed and cautious.

"That was…fast," Snow said nervously, darting gazes between her daughter and friend.

"Yeah, were you able to see him?" asked James.

Emma sighed, lifting her purse up over her shoulder and slinging it on the hook. "Yeah we saw him. He looks…well, it's pretty bad."

James gripped the door frame, struggling to contain his worry. "How bad?"

Emma glanced at Ashley who remained at the far window. "I…barely recognized him. He's wrapped almost head to toe in gauze. Looks like he's got at least a broken arm. And he's…unconscious."

Snow gulped. "Unconscious, like…in a coma?"

"No, I don't think coma. Just…not awake yet."

James too glanced over at Ella who seemed not to have moved since they arrived. "So what's…wrong? I mean, why isn't she there with him?"

Emma shook her head and looked down. "Sean's father was there. I mean," she looked up, questioning, "he's his father here, I don't know who…you know—"

"He's Thomas's father too," he whispered. "His real name's Christopher. What happened?"

Emma shuddered at the memory, looking over at the poor girl still standing in the corner. "They…had a fight. Pretty vicious one too. He…he blamed her for Sean's attack. Said he wouldn't have even been in West End if it weren't for her."

"Oh Gods," Snow covered her mouth with her hand.

"That's ludicrous," James spat.

"Um…she agreed," Emma went on, nodding toward Ashley. "She got…really angry about that. Started yelling at him—"

"So, what's wrong with her now?" Snow asked.

Emma took a deep breath, looking back and forth between the two of them before responding. "She…called him Thomas."

"What?" cried her parents in unison.

Emma shushed them before continuing. "In the heat of the argument, she said 'he's my husband, he's my Thomas.'…and the whole room just…froze."

James's gaze darted over to his wife and then back to Ella across the room. "So…she's…I mean, is she…awake now?"

"That's the thing, I don't think so. In fact she seemed just as surprised as everyone else. And then that creep said something about her being 'unstable' and we left."

"Oh, poor Ella," Snow whispered, regarding her sadly.

"I didn't know what else to do," Emma shrugged helplessly. "She's been like that ever since. Didn't say a word to me on the way home. Just kept saying over and over 'what's happening to me, what's happening to me, what's happening to me.'"

Snow looked up at James, "Do you think we should…tell her?"

James shook his head, "I don't know. I mean, Thomas wanted to tell her tonight but without him actually here, that might make things worse."

"How could it get any worse?" Emma countered. "I mean, she's remembering right? She wouldn't have said it otherwise."

"Yes, but the curse affects everyone differently," James explained. "We think Ella's happy ending has as much to do with his father as it does Thomas himself. At this point, it's almost like she's lost both of them at the moment," he added, glancing up at her once more. "I don't think telling her now would go very well."

While the group stayed huddled close to the door, Ashley herself was entranced in her own little world. She'd been aware on the ride home of the deputy trying to talk to her, but she just couldn't open her mouth to reply. What was happening to her? Why did everything around her suddenly feel so… wrong? She'd had arguments with Mitchell Herman before of course, but never quite so volatile…and none had ever ended like that. Sean needed her; they needed him. But she'd allowed herself to be bullied out of that exam room just as she'd always been bullied by her stepsisters. It was frustrating…infuriating…and yet, she couldn't shake herself out of this stupor. He's my Thomas! the words played over and over in her mind. What did she mean by that? Who was Thomas? It felt like fragments of a dream she couldn't remember, shards of memory that were lost to her now. She's obviously…unstable. The words should have offended her, but in truth…she feared they might be true. Was she crazy? She didn't think so…she certainly hoped not…but in that split second at the hospital, she'd felt like a completely different person.

Alexandra seemed to sense, much as she had at Granny's a few days back, that her mother was in distress, for she soon started to whine and moan. Ashley looked down and quietly soothed her fussing, taking comfort once again in having her daughter close. The child was like a balm, dulling even the sharpest pains of her heart. In holding Alex, she was finally able to breathe again. She glanced back at Emma, Mary Margaret and – David Nolan? – whom she noticed for the first time. What was he doing here? But she shook her head. It didn't matter. She needed to get Alex home. She needed to lie in her own bed so that maybe tomorrow morning, she might wake up and find this awful night had indeed been some horrible dream.

"Emma," she cleared her throat as she hitched Alex up on one shoulder and bent to retrieve the car seat on the floor by the bed. "Thank you for your help tonight," she said. "And for the ride to the hospital and everything. And thank you," she turned to Mary, "for watching her."

"Oh Ashley, it was no problem," Snow replied instantly, alarmed by Ella's abrupt, almost clipped tones. She was scurrying about the house, retrieving all of Alex's things. "Are you sure you…I mean, you are more than welcome to just stay. It's almost 3."

"No I…I'm fine thank you," she stammered, though the offer was tempting. "But I need to get her home. I…I need to go home."

Within minutes, Snow, James and Emma had helped pack Ashley and her daughter into her car, all the while asking her, in turns begging her to just stay. But she seemed desperate to get away from everything. To be alone. And this only seemed to confirm what James had feared. She wasn't ready for answers. She didn't want them. She wasn't even close.

"I'm gonna follow her home," Snow said as they watched Ella pull out of the driveway and start down the road.

"What?" James asked.

"Just to make sure she gets home ok."

Her husband looked down at the cast on her ankle. "Umm…are you…sure?"

"It's the left ankle James. I can still drive," she replied, and her tone brooked no opposition. Emma was about to object and insist that she go instead, but James shook his head, waving her off. And soon, the two of them were watching Snow drive away as well.

Left alone, father and daughter returned to the house and Ella slumped onto the kitchen stool. James came up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "You ok?" She nodded slowly but was staring blankly ahead of her. James sighed as he rounded the island, grabbed a glass from the drying rack and poured her some water. "You should get some rest," he said, handing her the glass. "It's been a long night."

She nodded again, taking a small sip, but she didn't budge. "We were just talking to him today," she said, barely above a whisper.

James's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Thomas."

He glanced down again. "Ah."

"I mean…it's like…we were just there at Collodi's. Talking about plans and curses and bad guys and…and now he's…" she shook her head, trying to shake the image of a man covered in bandages. "He's Cinderella's prince," she looked up, catching her father's gaze. "How are they supposed to have their happy ending now?"

"Hey," James said, reaching across the island and patting her hand. "There's something you need to understand about Thomas, ok? That man never gives up."

Emma sighed. "You didn't see him. He's—"

"Doesn't matter, listen," he grinned, squeezing her wrist. "We're talking about a guy who tried a glass slipper on every girl in his kingdom until he found the right one." Emma let out an inaudible snort, unable to keep from rolling her eyes. After all, this was hardly the same thing. But James continued. "And then he was cast into Limbo by Rumpelstiltskin, and he still managed to find his way back to her." At this, Emma looked up. She'd certainly never heard that version before. "He's strong, Emma. Stronger than any prognosis a doctor might make. He'll fight back." James paused, sliding his hand away from her as he straightened up. "Besides…he's got a little girl now who needs him. Believe me…that's all the motivation he needs."

Emma swallowed hard for it was impossible to miss the meaning in his words. He allowed her the space though to process it. It's one of things she liked – she loved about him. He'd given her so much space, so much time to deal with everything she'd learned about them, about herself…about the world in the last few days.

James cleared his throat, intending to quietly bow out and let her rest. He turned to head for the door, but Emma called him back.

"James?" she said timidly.

He stopped right at the edge of the island and turned. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

The prince reeled back, his eyebrows darting down. "Sorry? What for?"

Emma sighed, rubbing her hands together as if suddenly cold. "For…everything I ever assumed was true about my father."

James was so shocked by the remark, he almost choked. "Oh Emma—"

"No, please," she put her hand out to stop him. "Let me say it," she insisted. James's hand fell back to his side despite how sorely he wanted to reach for her. "You see I've been…going over and over the last week or so in my head. All the times you…tried to show me. All the hints you dropped."

"Emma, don't—" he was shaking his head.

"You were right though," she pressed on. "Back at the castle? I…didn't want to see it. I wasn't ready for the truth."

"How could you be?" he offered supportively. "It's not exactly your typical life story."

"That's just it though," she said, rising from the stool and shoving her hands in her pockets. "I never had a story." He gave her a strange look, now curious, and nodded for her to continue. "Growin' up in foster care, everyone has a story: crack-head mom, dead-beat dad, tragic accident. But all I ever knew about me was I was found on the side of a road and never claimed…so I…made up the rest." She shook her head and sighed again. "Most kids are in foster care cuz they've only got one parent to begin with, and that parent…just can't cut it." She glanced up at James who by now had taken a few steps forward. "So I decided that my mom left me there because…my dad must've walked out on her."

James's heart dropped right into his stomach as he watched his daughter's face twist with guilt. He didn't trust himself to speak. There was no reason she needed to feel bad about assumptions this world forced her to make, but at the same time, she seemed determined to clear her conscience.

"After a while I just…started to believe it, so…when Henry came along, and then Snow…and then you—"

"It was all that much harder for you to believe," he finished for her. She nodded, staring at her feet, and James couldn't take it any longer. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and wishing there was some way he could absorb all her pain. "Emma, you've got nothing to be sorry about, ok?" he said, his voice shaking. He pulled back and held her by the shoulders, leveling her gaze with his. "Nothing at all, you hear me? Not with me and not with Snow."

She sighed, though this time with a bit of relief, and nodded before sinking back against his chest again and squeezing tight. It felt good to hug him. To hug her father. And she flashed back on that awkward moment at Collodi's. "I'm sorry I…didn't hug you today," she said with a light sniffle.

She felt his shoulders shake as he chuckled. "It's ok, Emma."

"I'm not…real good yet with all the…fluffy, mushy…group hug stuff."

He grinned, pulling back once more to look at her. "You're my daughter…that's good enough for me."

…

***Boy you folks are sharp! At least a few people have already guessed Thomas's mystery rescuer, and LOTS of people already deduced the identity of our new friend Nurse Charles. (By the way, anyone ever seen Tootsie? I JUST realized that Jessica Lange's character in Tootsie was also Nurse Charles, haha.)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one. I know King Christopher came off a bit harsh, but you know…some people don't handle confrontation very well. Redemption is around the corner, believe me. It'll be a nice Christmas for Ashley this year.

Happy Memorial Day to you all (if you're American) and if not, Happy Sunday!***