Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any unrecognizable characters and dialogue.

When she returned from her ill-conceived attempt at spiriting Henry from Storybrooke, Emma expected Mary Margaret's temper to flare. That the usually demure, mousy teacher wasn't alone, however, gave her pause. Evie Mills was seated at the kitchen table with Mary Margaret, two dark heads bent together over the scrubbed surfaced. It was a shock when they both turned to look at her, wearing matching looks of anger.

For a moment, Emma could almost believe that the two were sisters.

"Where is Henry?" Evie's voice was tight and controlled. Part of her wanted to scream and throw things, while part of her dearly longed to give the blonde woman a good smack to the face. "Because he wasn't home when I checked late last night." Hazel eyes hardened when Emma paled. "Don't worry, my mother doesn't know. If she did, you'd be railroaded out of town."

With that, Evie stood, thanked Mary Margaret for the hot cocoa, and stormed from the apartment. Head held high, she didn't even glance at Emma. Had she, Evie wasn't sure she could stop herself from slapping the blonde across the face. Mary Margaret's raised voice was distant as Evie swept down the stairs, heart suddenly racing.

When she shouted, Mary Margaret sounded so much like Snow.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Evie tossed her dark curls and strode through the still dark streets. Dawn wasn't too far off, but she shivered at the chill in the air. Visiting Mary Margaret was something she'd been meaning to do for days now, ever since the older woman was released. While the circumstances weren't ideal, Evie hadn't been able to stop herself from going to Mary Margaret's apartment once she realized Henry was no longer in Storybrooke.

That Emma Swan thought she could just take Henry and leave was something Evie refused to allow. Part of her wanted to run to her mother, tell her everything, and watch the blonde woman go down in flames. It was a struggle, something Evie recognized as a part of the Curse, but she managed to smother the urge long enough to go to Mary Margaret. Oddly enough, she already seemed to know what Emma had done, and agreed with Evie that Mayor Mills could never find out.

Speaking with her sister, her flesh and blood, was heartbreaking. Part of Evie longed to hug the older woman and never let go - the last, fuzzy memory before the Curse she had was Snow in the birthing bed, bleeding and screaming, as her daughter was brought into the world. Even though it might have been safer elsewhere, Evie refused to leave her sister's side, even after her niece was born.

Nose wrinkling at the reminder that Emma Swan was, in fact, her niece, Evie picked up the pace towards her studio. Harry was waiting for her, having quit at the Cannery the other day when the foreman cut his hours again. While she wasn't too sure, Evie suspected that her mother was behind the recent demotion.

"Evie?" Henry, half-hidden by the door to her studio, peered up at her with tears in his eyes.

Hand flying up to cover her mouth, Evie didn't even think before she fell to her knees and drew Henry into her arms. He clung tightly to her, face pressed into her neck, as she soaked his wool coat with her tears. Stricken by the thought that her brother had almost been taken from her, she held him tightly. He returned the embrace just, if not more tightly, little fingers digging into her ribs painfully.

"I'm here, Henry," Evie whispered painfully, only partly aware of the door opening as they sat there on the landing. "I'm here."

Harry peered down at them, steely eyes softening at the sight. While he didn't know exactly what had happened, he merely sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around the pair. Chin resting on top of her brother's head, Evie titled her eyes to meet Harry's worried gaze. She scanned his eyes, swallowing thickly at the faint terror that he tried so hard to hide from her.

With everything that had been happening, both of them sensed that something awful was coming. Emma was close to either breaking the Curse, or leaving Storybrooke entirely.

Evie wasn't sure which eventuality she feared more.

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