A/N: Here we go. Chapter 20. I hope you enjoy this. As I've mentioned, I didn't intend to go this way. The story just went there. So I really hope you like it.

Also, I'd just like to put this out there... this is a work of fiction based on a TV show. If I make any mistakes in handling canon portions of the story, I apologize but please remember this is a fan fiction. The show writers have a hard time remembering what the hell happened in previous episodes so I probably will too. I ask for grace and mercy. ;)

I have finally gotten all my works on AO3 under the same user name in case you prefer that format. Just FYI.

So... here we go. Leave a comment and let me know how I'm doing.

Somewhere in a dirty alley in Boston, Regina Mills opened her eyes. It was just past dawn and the sky was a soft pink. The shifting clouds reminded her of cotton candy as they slowly lost their color and became giant swaths of white fluff above her. If not for the fact that she was aware of her surroundings, the sight of the morning sky would have been satisfying.

She looked around her and tried to make sense of what she saw. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who she was. She only knew she was cold and sore and lying on the street. There was a dumpster behind her head and a mewling sound was coming from beneath it. Kittens. And there was a mother cat, fat & grouchy, digging through a busted trash bag to the left.

She could hear the sounds of steam rising from a grate and the clanging of shops opening for business along the street beyond her feet. She sat up and rubbed her head. Her hair was soft and clean. There didn't seem to be a bump or injury to her head so that wasn't the source of her memory loss.

Standing up, she inspected herself more fully. She was as clean as one could expect to be after sleeping in an alley. She was healthy and physically fit as best she could tell. Her clothes were designer and the fabrics expensive although her jacket appeared to be torn. Her appearance suggested she didn't belong here. Perhaps she was a missing person. Was anyone looking for her?

The cold hand of fear gripped her as she stood there, unmoving in the alley. She knew she needed to move on but… to where? She felt her pockets and found no wallet or identification. She didn't even have any money. Her fingers traced a charm on a necklace she was wearing. She pulled it out from her chest and examined it. A silver swan. What an unusual choice. Did she like swans? She must because this was an expensive piece of jewelry. It looked custom made. She dropped it inside her shirt to hide it and buttoned two buttons. There was no need in three buttons being undone on her blouse. That wasn't very modest.

She knew she needed to make a decision and soon. There was a stirring in another pile of boxes and newspapers near-by and she didn't want to meet whomever or whatever was sleeping there. She was cold. She was sore. She was frightened. Still she didn't move. She had nowhere to go.

The smell of coffee hit her nose. It was dark and bitter and her feet began to move on their own toward it. Maybe someone in the café the scent was coming from would know her or be able to help her. She had to try. She had to move. The cat eyed her as it darted under the dumpster.

"Don't worry. I'm going. Good luck with your babies." She spoke to the cat and wondered at the deep timber of her own voice. Maybe she was a smoker? No. Definitely not. And if she had been, she was going to quit today.

Stepping from the alley into the street that was coming to life, she caught sight of herself in a store front window. She was attractive and thin, her dark hair thick, her dark eyes filled with fear. She smoothed down her jacket and walked quickly toward the café across the street. There were several people standing in line already so she waited. She may be a missing person with no memories… but apparently she had good manners.

"Good morning! What can I get you?" The young woman behind the counter—her name tag said Amy—was smiling, her finger hovering over the cash register to type in her order.

"I… I need some help." The brunette said timidly.

"Ok. Well, I know everything there is to know about everything you can order here, so what's your question?" Amy's smile remained broad as she waited expectantly.

"No. I don't mean with a coffee order. I mean…" The woman hesitated. "I mean, I just woke up in that alley and I don't know how I got there or who I am. Can you help me?"

Amy frowned and eyed her skeptically. "Am I being punk'd?"

"Punk'd? I'm sorry. I don't know what that means. Should I speak to someone else?" She didn't want to be rude, but she needed to be taken seriously.

"Maybe. Let me get somebody." She turned and called over her shoulder to someone in the back. "Charlie? Could you come here for a minute?"

A tall thin man with unnaturally blonde hair came into view. He was wearing an apron like everyone else behind the counter, but he had a clip board in his hand. He looked like he was in charge.

"Is anything wrong?" He stepped up beside Amy, addressing her and eyeing the woman in a wrinkled but expensive suit.

"As I was just telling… Amy… I just woke up in that alley and I don't know who I am and I need some help. If you can't help me, please will you point me in the direction of someone who can?" She was trying not to be impatient but all her timidity had burned off like dew in the afternoon sun. She felt irritable and at the moment she wanted to throttle these strangers. The anger felt good, familiar and she wondered if perhaps she was a bitch in her forgotten life.

Charlie seemed to take her seriously and immediately set about trying to help. He phoned the police and offered her a hot cup of coffee—black—and anything else she'd like. She accepted an apple turnover and took a seat to wait for law enforcement to arrive.

Before she'd finished her pastry, two beat cops in dark blue came in and sat with her, asking many questions she didn't have an answer for. She kept reminding herself they were only trying to help. Anger now mixed with a feeling of superiority. Yes, whoever she was before, she was definitely a bitch or at the very least, someone accustomed to people doing what she asked.

"As I told the two idiots over there, I woke up in the alley. I do not know who I am. I do not know where I am. In fact, until you told me I was in Boston, I didn't even know that sheriff." She sighed in frustration.

"Uh, just call me Officer Martin, ma'am. I'm not a sheriff." The older of the two men spoke. He seemed nice enough, although closer to retirement than his rookie days. His partner, who was currently questioning Amy and Charlie, was a young Latino whom she had heard someone call Santiago.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. It just… came out." She shook her head. She felt strange, like there were gaps in her mind as if someone had surgically removed whole sections of memory or at the very least had covered them in a sheet.

"Alright, ma'am. It's ok. We'd like to take you to the hospital and let them check you out. And then when you are given an all clear, we want you to come to the precinct. There are some shelters nearby that may have a bed for you until we can sort this out." He closed his notebook and studied her for a moment. She was incredibly beautiful. He had no doubt that unless she was running from something, there was certainly somebody somewhere looking for her.

Santiago swaggered over with all the arrogance one would expect in a rookie cop, drunk with new found authority. Glancing at the woman, he asked a question she had already been asked. "Can you tell me your name?"

And this time, before she knew what was happening, her mind supplied an answer. "Emma… Emma Swan."

~ (SQ) ~

Six weeks later…

"Please, Ma. Let me go with you this time." Henry was not too proud to beg. In all the trips his mother had made to Boston to search for Regina, she had never allowed him to come along.

"Kid, I just… I don't know if that is a good idea. And you still have school. Which, according to the letter I got from your guidance counselor, you aren't doing too well at this term." Emma zipped up the bag on the chaise.

Since not long after Regina had been missing, Emma had been living with Henry in the mansion on weekends. The ache in her chest at the separation had never gone away, but being among the brunette's things seemed to lessen it some. And if Emma were honest, she needed to be here, sleeping on soft gray sheets, cuddling a pillow that had long lost Regina's scent—she needed to be here in order to keep whatever thread of sanity remained. Even if only for two nights a week.

"Well… I guess having my mom kidnapped in the middle of the night and my other mother going nuts trying to find her has caused me to lose focus on my English homework." He wasn't even trying to sound like her, but he did. When did that happen?

"Henry…" Emma wanted to apologize, wanted to fix this but she could only think of driving to Boston and maybe—maybe this time finding the woman she loved.

"It's ok, Ma." The young man sounded resigned to the fact he was stuck in Storybrooke again.

"No, no it isn't. You know what? Fuck school. You're coming with me." Emma looked at the light filling his face and smiled. "And when we find her, please don't tell her I said fuck."

Henry nodded and without a word dashed to his room. He had to hurry before she changed her mind. The kid had already packed a bag weeks ago and kept it in his closet. He knew eventually she would relent and he was ready.

The pattern of their lives since that fateful day when the globe had revealed Regina was in Boston hadn't changed much all this time. That Sunday, Emma had left for Boston, ready to take on the world. She had called and checked in every night, even though she had nothing to report. But she had remained hopeful. Ever hopeful.

On Friday night, she had rolled back into town exhausted and disgusted. Saturday she and Henry had spent together. She had apologized for the whole mess, cried about letting him down, but nothing had stopped her from taking off again first thing Sunday morning.

David and Sean had assumed responsibility for the sheriff's department and Snow had taken over looking after Henry until Emma came home again each week. After two weeks, Snow had suggested maybe this was a fruitless endeavor. Maybe whoever took Regina had already left Boston. So added to Henry and Emma's Saturday's together was a trip to Gold's shop. The man would check again with the simultaneously helpful and useless globe to be sure Regina remained in "Beantown," as it was colloquially called. Emma had more than once wished for a bean… the magic variety. She would find Regina, grab hold of her and their son and jump through a portal to some realm where no one knew them… no one wanted to hurt them.

It was unclear in Emma's memory exactly when her clothes and shoes and the small box of sentimental belongings had finally found their way to the mansion. It had been gradual and all at once… just the way she had fallen in love with Regina. Gradual… then all at once. Nothing of hers remained in the loft now. She was living in the mansion and it would be perfect if only Regina were there. The blonde's heart ached thinking that they may never find each other again. What if this was the life they were meant to live? Always being pulled apart and never being allowed to be happy?

This was the sixth trip Emma was going to make to Boston. She had been disorganized the first two weeks. While much of her skills as a bail bonds person had taken over without her really trying, mostly she had been a basket case and careless in her searching. But, Henry had been a stabilizing force and had scolded her for her disheveled appearance that only pointed to a disheveled inner life.

So the third trip, she had purchased a map, made a grid, gotten her story together and tried to think like a kidnapper. She had flashed Regina's picture around to anyone who would look. More than one had remarked about her beauty and assured her, if they'd seen that woman… they'd remember. It was a tiring process but what else could she do? It wasn't as if Regina was set up in an apartment somewhere, or working in an office. Emma couldn't just Google her and knock on the door. No. Regina wasn't living in Boston. She was being held captive. And captives don't have addresses on Google maps.

The fourth week, Emma had Googled her. Just in case. Maybe Regina hadn't been taken. Maybe she had ran away. She was capable of creating the blue sleeping powder. She had the power and the knowledge and she wouldn't want to hurt Henry, so it was a good match spell-wise.

Emma quickly dismissed that idea. Regina had just hung their pictures on the wall. She had only that day cleared a place for Emma to almost move-in. The kiss on the doorstep when Emma had returned to work had been full of love and promise. No, there was no way in hell Regina had left her and Henry behind. She was taken. She was definitely taken.

On week five, Emma hadn't gone to Boston until Tuesday. She had remained the extra days to see how David was doing in his search for clues as to who the kidnapper could be.

"There really isn't much to go on, Em. I'm not sure we can find anything definitive from the almost dust we almost gathered. And what else do we have? Blue said—"

"Blue? Always Blue. Why the hell is she suddenly so interested in helping Regina? They can't stand each other. If I were you, I'd start listening less to her and start looking more at her. For all we know, she's behind this."

"Emma! She's one of our oldest friends. How can you say that? And why would she do this anyway? What does she stand to gain?"

"I don't know, Dad. But I don't trust her. Regina wouldn't trust her either. She's fucking shady. So, just to appease me… stop telling her stuff about this case and start looking at her with an objective eye. My super power isn't perfect but I get a vibe from her, ok?"

"Ok. I'll… stop keeping her in the loop. By the way, Hook has really been helpful. He's been coming around a lot and—"

"Dad. The woman I love could be in a basement somewhere, starving and cold and alone. I don't give two shits what Hook is doing. Stop letting him help too. I know it looks like he's innocent but—"

"But you get a vibe. Got it. Stop telling people who are trying to help how they can help and start treating them like the enemy. Is that about it?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

Things had been tense with her parents after that but the savior couldn't find it in her heart to care. Especially not when her heart was beating outside her chest somewhere in Massachusetts. There would be time to mend fences, to make nice with dear old mom and dad once Regina was home safe.

"You ready, kid?" Emma popped her head into Henry's room. He was standing by his bed, his bag in his hands.

"Yep. I'm ready. Let's do this." Heading down the stairs, Emma watched her son's fingers trail along the photograph of the three of them. "I've got a good feeling about this, Ma. We're gonna find her. I just know it."

~ (SQ) ~

In the six weeks she could remember since waking up in the alley, Emma Swan had lived an interesting life.

Emma…

The name had fallen so easily from her lips when Officer Santiago had asked for her name, but still it didn't feel right. Was she Emma Swan? She traced over the charm on the chain around her neck.

That would explain the charm.

After visiting the hospital and getting the all clear, there had indeed been a shelter willing to provide a bed for her. The police had begun combing through missing person's reports and had posted one with her picture in case someone started looking for her. So far, nothing good had come of it. Maybe no one was looking.

Their search had uncovered at least three Emma Swan's in the greater Boston area although they assured her… she wasn't one of them. There was a retired school teacher living in Melrose and a fourteen year old cheerleader in Arlington. There had been a bounty hunter in Boston proper a few years ago. They had informed her the file photo from an old arrest showed her to be a lanky blonde with emerald green eyes. Still, no new leads about her identity. Just more dead ends.

Two weeks ago, laying in a cot in a room with three other women, dressed in clothes that had been donated and feeling terribly out of place, one of the counselors at the shelter had come to her with an interesting proposition. Emma was beautiful. She was smart. And she had shown an interest in leadership. Maybe what she needed now was a job and an apartment and a fresh start.

She had been intrigued and had agreed. This past weekend, she had moved into an apartment with minimal furnishings and the clothes she had from the shelter. In addition, she had several nicer suits that had been culled out of the donation bin for her. They were all a little too big, but she didn't mind. She had an apartment and a job.

A mid-level editor at a publishing house was the cousin of the shelter counselor it seemed. And he had made an offhand remark about needing an assistant. Soon, Emma Swan was being interviewed and with her charming manner and disarming smile, she was hired on the spot. The editor, always looking for an interesting story, was touched by her tale of amnesia and waking in the alley. So, he had agreed as part of her compensation package to front two months' rent on her apartment to get her on her feet.

Emma was aware this was nothing short of a miraculous turn of events and thanked the universe for her run of good luck. She still wanted to know who she was. She wanted to be found and returned to her life… whatever it may be. But she also had a drive inside her that wasn't satisfied on a cot, sitting in classes that she didn't need. She wanted to live and work and excel. It was in her blood.

She hadn't gained any of her memories in the entire six weeks. Not one. Her doctor and her counselor had said she would. But she hadn't. Nothing. Blank slate. She tried to think of the past but nothing would rise to the surface.

But in her dreams… she saw many things she couldn't explain.

Sometimes she was astride a dark chestnut horse, her hair braided down her back. She felt alive. She felt free. It felt real.

Sometimes she was in costume. Maybe she was an actress. But she would be walking along a wooded path, in corset and leather, a wide brimmed hat on her head. She felt fierce. She felt angry. It felt real.

Sometimes she was in an office, sitting behind a desk and staring down someone she couldn't quite see. But she burned them with her gaze and refused to look away. She felt sexy. She felt afraid. It too felt real.

The dreams had begun popping up pretty early in the six weeks but they had increased in frequency and intensity as the time passed. Twice this week already she had sat straight up in bed, sweat covering her. One dream she was dressed in a warm coat and scarf in the middle of the street trying to attract the attention of a gargoyle or something while a yellow VW bug raced toward her. Another dream had included her in a red velvet gown, tied to a tree and watching a faceless woman in white argue with an equally unknown woman in black.

She could chalk all these up to too many late night movies or bad pizza… but the fact remained, they all felt too real. She hadn't dreamt the same thing twice. She'd mentioned the dreams to her doctor and he had suggested she write them down. Maybe they weren't real on the whole, but perhaps her mind was trying to give her some little bits of truth.

There was one dream that she had dutifully written as he suggested only once though she had dreamed it frequently and near nightly these last two weeks. In the dream, she was leading a woman up a winding staircase in the dark. They had kissed in the dark hall against the wall before stumbling into the bedroom. Then in slow and deliberate movements, they had divested themselves of clothes and made love as if for the first and last time. It was always tender and intense. There was so much love, so much feeling. Whoever the woman was, Emma clearly was in love with her.

Her dream from last night though had left her unsettled. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep from it and had gotten up and showered at 4 AM. She'd have time for a coffee and pastry before going in to the office thanks to the early hour.

Maybe I'll stop in and see Amy and Charlie… For all their idiocy they did help me out.

In her dream, she had been sitting on the floor of a well decorated living room, playing a video game with a teenage boy. The game ended with her victorious. None of her dreams featured faces but this one… this one had. The boy with messy dark hair and curious green eyes had tried to write off her win to luck and she had insisted it wasn't luck at all.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you. But I bet you'd suck at any of my race games."

She'd acquiesced and said as long as they played war games she would win. And then, the boy had called her mom.

Mom? Do I have a son?

If that were true, a new job, a new apartment, a new life meant nothing. She needed to find out who she was. She needed to find her son.

Henry.

She had called him Henry.

Emma Swan stepped up to the counter in the café she had first entered six weeks ago. This fine Monday morning she would have her black coffee and apple turnover while she read over the Boston Globe. Then she would call the officers assigned to her case. They needed to know about the boy.

~ (SQ) ~

The sun hadn't even risen yet when Henry Mills jumped in the shower in the hotel room he was sharing with his blonde mother. Sunday after arriving in Boston and checking in to the hotel, Emma had led him through her plan and they had showed pictures of Regina all over.

Emma wasn't happy obviously, but there was a certain life in her while she was doing something that could lead to his other mother. Talking about it, thinking about it… that didn't seem much use. But now that she was on the street again, knocking on doors, shaking every bush, turning over every proverbial rock, there was a determined fire in her eyes. She would never stop looking for Regina.

Last night, they had eaten a late supper and Emma had taken the kid to a place she loved. It was the first nice thing she had done in six weeks. Bringing Henry had been the right thing to do. She liked sharing Boston with him as they stopped strangers on the street and ducked in and out of businesses. He had eaten his first taste of clam chowder in the bistro and she had relaxed for a few minutes after weeks of tension.

"You know, I brought your mom here." Emma pulled a hunk of brown bread from the basket.

Henry slurped the chowder from his spoon and smiled. "You did? When?"

"That weekend we came up to shop for dresses. She ate the clam chowder too but I think she wasn't that impressed. But she played along because I like this place so much." Emma's eyes began to mist at the memory. She hadn't cried in so long. She didn't want to start now.

Seeing the emotion, Henry tried to redirect the conversation slightly. "Cool. What else did you guys do? PG rated please." He rolled his eyes and hoped Emma would laugh at his antics. She did.

"Actually, we went to a couple places that meant something to me. She had been super interested but then Hook called and, at the time I had no idea what was wrong but I see now in hindsight. God, what an idiot I was. Anyway, we went to a museum and a place I worked. We saw the building I lived in when you came here." Emma smiled again, remembering her son when he first looked at her at that green door and said he was her son.

She took a long drink from her root beer and seemed to think for a long moment before a light flashed in her eyes. "Hey kid, you know what? I think in the morning before we start pounding the streets, you and me are gonna have a cocoa and a bear claw from one of my favorite places."

"Ok. What's so special about it?" Henry picked up his bowl now and drank the remnants of the creamy soup. Winking, he said, "Don't tell mom I drank from the bowl or she'll kill me."

Nodding her agreement not to rat him out, Emma thought about how much to tell Henry about the café and the homeless woman. Maybe she'd tell him tomorrow.

"Let's just say, it was a place that meant something to me when I first moved here. And your mom liked it too."

Henry stepped out of the bathroom, dressed, his hair combed and his teeth brushed. He was ready to go. The sun was pushing its way through the curtains now and Emma was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Ma? Are you going to get dressed?"

"Yeah." Her voice was heavy. She sniffed quietly and Henry knew. She was crying.

"Are you crying? Hey. Don't do that. We are going to find her. We are." Henry was so full of hope.

"I know kid and I want to believe that. I do. But the more time that passes… I just…" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just miss her and I'm getting discouraged. I'm glad you came though. It helps."

Henry sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. In no more than six months he had sat like this, comforting both of his mothers while they cried about the other. He wasn't sure he was ready to be an adult. Most of what he had seen of it looked hard and complicated and painful—especially if you fell in love.

"I know. I miss her and I get scared that this will never end. But it will. We will find her." The boy's voice was confident and soothing.

"You know, when I first moved here I watched this homeless lady in an alley every day from the café. I felt sorry for her but I didn't know what to do about it. I finally found a shelter to take her and I got the courage to reach out to her. I bought two coffees and two pastries and I marched over to that alley. She was gone. I looked for her for so long and I never did find her. What if…" Emma tried in vain to stifle a sob. She didn't want to say these words to her son, but they demanded release. "What if your mom is like that woman? What if I just keep looking and never find her?"

Henry held his mother while she cried. He cried with her until they had cried all they could. They cried for Regina. They cried for each other. They cried for the life they wanted and that seemed out of reach. They cried for the homeless woman who had never been found.

"Ok. Here's the deal. I'm your son and I'm her son and that makes me about the most stubborn and hopeful person there is. We've cried and wallowed in it all we are going to today. You go have a quick shower, let's have our cocoa and then we are going to find Mom."

Emma eyed her son in wonder. He was becoming such a strong man. She was proud. He was remarkable.

"Alright, Henry. Give me fifteen minutes and we will get out of here."

~ (SQ) ~

"Good morning! What can I get…. Oh! It's you!" Amy recognized the woman at the counter immediately.

"Yes, it's me. And I came to let you and Charlie know that while I still don't have my memories, I am doing ok. I got a job and a place to stay. I wanted to thank you both for your help that day." The brunette extended a hand across the counter, hoping to shake on it.

Amy was not happy with a shake only and pulled the woman forward and into an awkward hug across the counter. "Well, Charlie hasn't come in yet but I'll tell him. And anything you want today is on the house." The girl smiled at the enigmatic woman who had been the subject of much talk in the café in the weeks since she had first appeared there. "By the way, what should I call you?"

"Emma. My name is Emma Swan. And I'll take a black coffee and an apple turnover." She smiled brightly at the girl, feeling bad for having called her an idiot.

"Alright Emma. But how about you try something new today? Its apple but not a turnover. It's an apple and cream cheese Danish and it is to die for." The girl seemed giddy at the thought.

"Hmmm, ok. Then make it a black coffee and Danish."

"Cool. I'll bring it to you when it's ready." Amy smiled again and called her order back to a red headed girl who wore proudly a trainee badge. This should be interesting. But how hard was it to foul up black coffee?

After another awkward exchange, Emma had sat near the window and watched the street come to life. Shops opening all around, the foot traffic increasing. She glanced down at her brand new phone and checked the time. She'd have to go soon. She stood and waved good-bye to Amy, asking her to give her regards to Charlie and promising to return. She slipped out the door and was gone.

"Oh shoot!" Amy noticed too late Emma's scarf still draped over the back of her chair. "Well, maybe she will come back for it." The girl tucked it under the counter with a note. Emma Swan.

Within ten minutes Emma and Henry wandered into the café. They both inhaled the scent of the coffee brewing, the bread baking and smiled. They were definitely mother and son when it came to food.

"Alright, Kid. Order whatever you want. But I really love their cocoa—"

"And bear claws. I know." Henry stood in line ahead of his mother. "But the sign says they have an apple Danish on special so… that's what I'm having. For luck."

Emma smiled sadly. They reached the counter finally and a red-haired girl identified only as "Trainee" took their order and money. Emma gave her name and the girl said they'd call when the cocoa was ready.

Emma pulled out Regina's photo. "Hey, have you seen this woman? My son and I are trying to find her. She went missing about six weeks ago."

The girl studied the photo but didn't recognize the woman. With a promise to keep an eye out for her, the girl took Emma's card and began helping the next person in line. Suddenly she called her back.

"Hey! Are you Emma Swan?"

Emma turned and noticed the girl studying the business card she had given her. "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh! Great! You left your scarf earlier. Amy saved it for you."

The girl pulled a long gray scarf from under the counter and held it up. Emma frowned. She didn't understand what was happening.

"That… that isn't mine." Emma stepped back toward the counter as Amy returned from the stock room.

"She's not Emma." Amy chimed in. "That is Emma."

The blonde turned in bewilderment and followed Amy's gaze to the entrance of the café. She felt like she might faint. Regina Mills was walking through the door.

"Regina?" She breathed and gripped the counter.

"Mom?" Henry's equally shocked voice came from somewhere to the right though Emma's eyes wouldn't leave Regina's confused face. Could this be real? Could Regina just be standing here in this café? Could it be that simple?

The brunette looked at Emma, searching her face but showing no recognition. Despite the fact that she didn't know who the blonde was, her eyes burned into Emma's soul just like always. And in an instant, the real Emma Swan felt that ache in her chest begin to fade.

The brunette's hand reached up of its own accord and rubbed the place just above her heart absent mindedly. Maybe she felt it too. Her eyes stayed on the blonde, refusing to look away. But hearing Henry speak, she turned to the boy and gasped.

"Henry?"

By now Emma was crying and her paralyzed legs had begun to move. Her arms wrapped around the petite woman and held her tight while she sobbed. She tried to speak but no words would come. She pulled back when she realized Regina wasn't returning the embrace.

"Regina? It's me. It's Emma? What's wrong?" Emma's face was wet with tears and Henry was standing beside her, still shocked by the turn of events.

"I'm sorry. I… I suffered some sort of episode recently and I can't remember much. My name is Emma Swan." The woman stiffened and appeared every bit the queen she didn't know she was. "Who is Regina?"

"You… you are." Emma said in disbelief. "You don't know who I am?"

"No. I'm sorry." Regina looked increasingly uncomfortable and would have just walked out if not for the drawing sensation… if not for her desire to find out more about Henry. She had to know who he was.

"But you… I know you, Henry. Are you…" She paused, almost afraid to say the next words. "Are you my son?"

"No," Emma sobbed, a protective arm sliding around his shoulders. "This is our son. And we are here to take you home."

"Our…"

"Yes. Our son." Emma pulled him even closer and was vaguely aware they were drawing a crowd.

"We… you and I are…together?" Regina couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her mind was filled with the soft porcelain skin, the tender kisses, the faceless woman above her… the woman from her dream.

"Yeah." Emma shrugged, feeling suddenly inadequate and unsure what on earth this woman had ever seen in her. Without their shared memories—would she still feel the same?

"Moms. I don't want to be a downer but do you think we could continue this talk over there in a booth. We are attracting a following." Henry glanced around at the people staring openly.

"Yes… I…" Regina hesitated again. Her eyes drifting from the boy to the beautiful blonde. What was happening? "Let's sit."

When Emma Swan woke up today, she never imagined this was how she would spend it. Regina. Not Emma. But the racing terror in her heart was no match for the curiosity or for the magnetic pull she felt toward the blonde. No matter what else happened… she needed to know more.

Is this my family? Am I finally going home?