A/N: Hey you guys, just a quick note. It's been a long time since I last updated my stories, so just to clarify... I'm having some trouble with my schedule cause I'm on an exchange program and my life's been nothing but chaos ever since. I'll do my best to update at least once a month from now on though! Happy reading!

~Thirteen Years Ago~

Graham is a young handsome guy, he's probably the most eligible student of Storybrook High. Surely majority of girls wouldn't mind sharing his affections with others, they'd be fine as long as they're together.

Emma figured Regina isn't one of those when she found her and the moron arguing in the school hall.

"Oh, come on, Regina!" He begs with British accent and charmingly smiled, "You know she doesn't matter to me," Emma is almost laughing over his stupid whine.

"I said no. Now, excuse me." Regina is pissed, but her rage is still under control, until he stupidly pulls a hand on the wall blocking her path. "Excuse me."

"This is stupid, Regina. You don't want this."

"I want you to let me go."

But he insists, with his mind made up he steps from right to left, body blocking her way. Until the taps on his shoulder makes him turn away from Regina.

Emma has absolutely no idea what she's doing, but there she goes. "Let her go." She says with a meaningless smile.

He checks her head to toe, and chuckles lightly at the humor of the situation. Emma knows in his place she'd do the same. What the hell is she thinking? Well, she isn't. She's only reacting impulsively. And when he moves to touch her shoulder she reacts again, and he's reaching the wall with a hand while the other rests between his legs where her knee just hit him.

"Moron."

~Present Time~

Everything just sucks when your life is nothing but hit after hit. And each hit you take makes you look at everything differently, and see yourself back at the starting point. Emma thought by now she wouldn't have extra hits left, but luck wasn't anything she's had much experience with. Ever.

Her sister has been looking somewhat weirdly at her through the entire breakfast. She kinda wants to just ask what the heck, but she also doesn't want to know whatever stupidity Mary Margaret has boiling in her brain.

Even though Mary just can't sit and be quiet, every question and answer goes back and forth evasive while Emma has her full bowl of Captain n' Crunch and Mary finishes her toasts.

For a moment, or maybe two, Emma wanders if Mary knows anything about Regina's visit, or what happened that afternoon. She'd sure appreciate discussing it with anyone, but she's unlikely to reveal anything. So after another long round of staring, while Mary's eyes are glued to The Mirror, she just gets back to her next spoon of mostly sugar delight and checks up on the news on her phone.

"Do you have anything to wear?" Mary speaks breaking the few minutes long silence, "For the wedding."

Emma's decided to stay for it, but she never really stopped to think about everything she's supposed to have arranged for the ceremony. And she supposes now that it's a long, long, list of boring things. "Not really," She's tired just thinking about it.

Mary starts to blab about how Emma should be thinking about it and quick. And how everything needs to be just perfect. Impeccable. And how she's struggling with so many decisions to make. And how Emma should maybe go to the store when Mary goes make the last adjustments on her dress. "Oh, you're going to love it!" She guarantees with pure excitement. Emma just wants to be as enthusiastic, she really does.

Emma's relationship with Mary wasn't any good when they first met, she only saw pity into her sister's eyes, or any act concerning herself. So Emma closed up to any contact at all. She's a hard person to open up, to let herself be with others. And, well, the last thing she needed was a brand-new sister ready to see her as a weak little girl from outta town, who was impotent to go through life. She never thought that years after she'd have such close relationship, she never thought she'd welcome Mary's help offer and that'd be where they are now, starting to get along.

Great part of Emma's decision to stay is gratitude.

When Emma had the accident, Mary was there to help her through. Mary was strong and she did everything under her power to see to it that Emma would be fine and recover. She never left until assured Emma was fine to get on by herself. And when she did leave Mary called every day until Emma moved to Boston to start the last stages of her treatment. Then she just started writing, It's old-style and I like it better, Mary argued when Emma mocked her over it. Even so Mary called once or twice a month to check up on her sister, because Emma, you really suck at this writing back thing, she used to complain.

Mary never mentioned Storybrook or any specifics, because whenever she tried doing so Emma would just ramble about anything else, even if it was just the annoying roses hanging in her hospital bedroom or the high shelves in her apartment that her time on the wheelchair made inaccessible or how tired she was after physiotherapy and should rest a little...

But now she's here, and there's still a thousand reasons to talk about it. But even so she won't, she still has a lot to process...

Emma's eyes finally leave the small screen of her phone when Mary asks again, "Will you come?"

"Yeah," Maybe they just need sometime together and shopping seems something to distract Emma's mind a little.

Mary's face is bright with the positive answer, she gives the final sip on her mug of hot cocoa and closes the newspaper with the highest of humor before she leaves for work.

It's not the easiest day of school. Kids always pull the most unexpected situations, and sometimes Mary has to pull all of her strength not to end up losing her nerves, or laughing at some inappropriate behaviours, or just some unexpected responses they probably get from grown-up conversations. Some days all of those things happen all together. But she loves working as a teacher, and a part of it is thanks to the fact that everyday is a different day for her and the students. And there's always a feeling of accomplishment by the end of the day.

When the bells ring informing the school classes are over Mary makes her way to the hallway and waits for her favorite student to walk by. She knows Regina has been having some problems with Henry and they need to work things out, but still Mary thinks it's no reason to spend no time with him. And since Regina has this I should avoid Emma rule, she tries walking him to the car so they can talk about anything even if it's not for a long while.

Since she and Regina kind of split ways up after some secrets ran out - apparently, keeping secrets doesn't run in the family. And even if the current mayor tried keeping her son away from Mary, that just wasn't a good plan living in such small town, and frequenting the same school. Regina made it clear the arrangement is for her son's sake, nothing other than that.

For a while all they did was have supervised weekly snacks at Granny's, then they leveled up to weekly lunch, and then he'd come and spend few hours at the loft... Until one day Henry asked to spend the night, Mary thought Regina was going to murder her right then and there, but she didn't. And now they just walk from the classroom to the car, and have occasional meetings at Granny's.

Regina is not amused to turn and have Mary Margaret standing by her car window as her son arrives and she waits for Henry finish setting his backpack at the right place and put on seatbelt. She thinks about acting polite but her carelessness is inevitably covering every inch of her face. Mary starts a chitty-chat for the longest two minutes of Regina's entire week before finally asking if her sister already got in touch and is answered with a dry, "I wish I was sorry your plan didn't work. But I'm not."

Mary knows Emma is a difficult person when it comes to accepting a little hand now and then, but this is just too ridiculous to let it be. She knows that the accident won't be forgotten, she has no idea of what it was like to suddenly wake unsure if she'd ever be able to get on her feet. But Emma lived past it, she's fine, no after effects.

When Mary gets home her sister is nowhere to be found, Emma's probably hanging out on Granny's making fun of the Clown Patrol, as she dubbed the sheriff and his deputy. It's true those two have very unusual methods of work, but Mary just takes it as some weird European technique.

It doesn't take long for Emma to get back to the loft though, and she's well received with a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon, which is her favorite thanks to Mary Margaret, and homemade cookies. Her biological brain alarm for danger rings right away, but it's hot cocoa and cookies and she's not about to decline either of them. So she happily sits down and takes it for granted hoping she doesn't have to give back much.

"Before Henry, did you have any contact with any children at all?"

Emma drops the cookie back at the plate when Mary finally decided to speak, she suppresses a deep breath and an eye roll, "Not really. Why?"

"Curiosity." Emma doubts it's just that, but decides to shrug it off, "Did you visit a therapist?"

"Not really."

Mary hums over he answer as if she finds it extremely curious, and by the frown on her face she's just about to formulate a thousand questions, "So... I happen to know that there's a great therapist in town." She half makes a suggestion.

"Doctor Hopper?" Emma asks.

"Yes. He's great." Has Mary ever needed therapy sessions? Emma doesn't really think so. "You could just go by, no commitments or anything."

Emma knows there's a lot of commitment on that, she never had to go through therapy. She went to four sessions of group therapy right after the accident as protocol dictated. But that's it.

And she argues each time Mary tries to convince Emma this is a good step, even if she doesn't think there's something wrong with her sister. But the winning point for her is, "I know how hard it is for you to speak and open up with other people and I'd love if you chose me to do so. But we both know that's not going to happen. And if I can't be that person, I just thought maybe you could find someone else until you are ready to speak to me or a friend or a partner."

So no commitments attached Emma decides to go knock on Doctor Hopper's office room. She's immediately alert when a big picture of the dalmatian that almost killed her a couple of days ago pops to vision. She knows it's him, she memorized each black smudge.

But to her surprise Doctor Hopper is outside his office and standing by the next door on the hallway, no apparent sign of the animal. He seems concentrated on his task. Which consisted of...talking to a door? So she just tries walking back and never coming back. Seems to be the logical thing. Why expose the poor guy like this? He must have a reputation.

But for his or hers misfortune he looks to her end of the hallway just before she turns back to climb downstairs, "Miss Swan?"

"I was just leaving." She assures him ready to leave, but a tiny childish voice makes her turn back right away, "Is that Henry?"

Dr. Hopper nods to her and calmly turns back to the door where Henry seems to be locking himself up. How does a seven year old boy seem to cause and have so many problems with escaping therapy? What has him in therapy, Emma wanders.

"That's the first time he's spoken since he locked himself there," Hopper says while approaching her, "He doesn't want to talk to anyone. I already called the mayor and she's on her way."

He doesn't want to talk to anyone but still called her name when she arrived. Conclusions are a dangerous field here, so she doesn't get anywhere near them. It's the logical step, she self assures.

"Do you mind?" The therapist looks back and forth between Emma and the empty room's door before a small nod permits her to take the few steps until the door. "Hey, Henry. It's me, Emma. Could you open the door for me? I won't make you come out, I just want to get in."

A short wait goes by before he finally speaks to her and she's allowed to enter, his sad face matches perfectly the sadness in his voice. His emotions are transparent even if there are no signs of cry. When she walks in the small room with only one window barely allowing clarity in she sits right in front of him. Her legs stretch along and she's feet to feet with Henry.

"Would you like to talk?" It's weird, beyond weird that she feels deep down a bit of a need to just know and maybe help him. "You know if you want to tell me a secret I'll keep it and no one, not even your mom will know about it." Still he only stares at his little hands, fidgeting. "What if I tell you a secret?" His curiosity wins over and he looks up finally, "Okay... " She takes a couple of seconds thinking about what to say, "My mom and I moved a lot when I was younger, and she used to take me to watch the airplanes take flight every time we got to a new city. And that's why I always wanted to be a pilot. So one day I could take her to visit everywhere she wanted with my own plane. But she was gone before I finished school, so I decided to take this necklace she gave me when I was your age on every flight." She reaches for the thin golden chain until the small swan pendant comes out. Technically, that isn't much of a secret since she's told this story to someone else, but it's still something. And she hopes Henry doesn't get technical. "Okay, now it's your turn. Tell me, why are you hiding?"

Henry shrugs his little shoulders, and Emma is insistent and patient until he decides to open up, "My mom is not my real mom." He says in nearly a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"She said I was abopted." His voice gets a little stronger.

"You mean adopted?" Henry nods, "Do you know what that means, Henry?"

"I just told you," He hisses at her childishly, "She's not my real mom!"

"Well, that's not what that means at all," Emma assures him, "That means your mom is a very special lady. She's so special that her heart is so, so full of love. And one day there wasn't enough space to keep all this love, so she decided it was time to share it with someone, but it couldn't be just anyone. Had to be someone just as special as she is, someone her heart had to pick. And do you know who it picked?"

"Me?" His little voice reaches Emma's ear with some difficulty.

"That's right, Henry."

"Miss Emma?" His small smile finally come out, "I think my pick her too." He says as if this is his most precious secret.

"What do you say we get outta here, and you just go and hug your mom to tell her that?"

And so they do get out, and it's not long before Regina walks in the hallway ready to ask for her son and is intrigued with Emma's presence. There's no time to do anything because Henry is holding his arms around her waist strongly. She just holds him back with relief.

He looks up, chin resting on her thigh, "My heart picks you too, mom."

Humbert comes right after Regina, so useful of him to come as soon as he could and be the mayor's knight in shiny armour. He just notices Emma when Regina Mills herself voices her gratitude, it comes with softness, carefully. But to him, is painful. Emma can tell just by Graham's eyes, the same of the seventeen year old boy she hit.