The air in the sheriff's office was thick with frustration. David paced back and forth, his movements sharp and restless. Across from him, Jefferson—the Mad Hatter—leaned against the desk, his expression tinged with equal parts exasperation and amusement. The remnants of his infamous hat lay on the desk between them, its once-pristine fabric now scorched and flattened.

"You're telling me there's nothing you can do?" David demanded, slamming his hands on the desk.

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, his smirk barely concealed. "Unless you've found a way to un-burn a hat and un-mangle a device, then no. There's nothing I can do."

David's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. "You're the Mad Hatter. You've opened portals before. You're supposed to be able to help."

"And I could," Jefferson said, gesturing to the ruined hat. "If this weren't a pile of ash. Do you have any idea how much magic it takes to make one of these work? It's not just something I can whip up with a needle and thread."

Regina entered the room, her sharp gaze flicking between the two men. She took in the sight of the destroyed hat, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Arguing about it isn't going to bring Snow and Emmett back."

David turned to her, his frustration bubbling over. "Then what will? We can't just sit here and do nothing."

Regina folded her arms. "I'm working on it. But if you keep letting your emotions run wild, you're going to scare Henry—and that's the last thing he needs right now."

At the mention of Henry, David sighed, his anger deflating. "You're right. We'll handle this. Together."

Regina nodded, then added, "And speaking of Henry, he needs to stay focused on school. He's been asking too many questions, and we can't have him getting involved in this."

Later that evening, Regina and David sat Henry down at the kitchen table. His arms were crossed, and his jaw was set in a stubborn line, clearly unhappy with whatever they were about to say.

"Henry," Regina began, her tone calm but firm, "we know how much you want to help, but this isn't something you can fix. You need to focus on school while we figure out a way to bring Emmett and Mary Margaret back."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "Why can't I help? I'm part of this family too."

David placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're a kid, Henry. You shouldn't have to carry the weight of all this. Let us handle it."

Henry pushed his chair back, standing abruptly. "I'm not a kid! I'm the one who found the storybook. I'm the one who believed in all of this when no one else did. And now you're telling me to sit back and do nothing?"

"Henry, this isn't up for debate," Regina said sharply. "We need you to trust us."

But trust wasn't something Henry could give freely—not when his family was incomplete. Without another word, he stormed upstairs, leaving Regina and David exchanging worried glances.

The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated Regina's office, casting long shadows across the room. The magical book lay open before her, its pages filled with ancient runes and spells she had long since memorized but now studied with renewed focus. Her hands rested lightly on the edges of the book, her fingers tracing the faded script as her mind churned with thoughts of everything that had happened.

The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her. Emmett and Snow were gone, trapped in the Enchanted Forest, and she had no clear path to bring them back. Henry was growing more restless and desperate by the day, and David's relentless energy, while admirable, was becoming exhausting to manage. Regina exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging under the burden.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as her thoughts spiraled. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Regina's mind wandered to Emmett. The man he had become—the man she had come to love—was still a puzzle to her. He was a mix of contradictions: powerful but unsure, kind but conflicted. And now, as he was stranded in a world she had spent so long trying to escape, the fear of losing him gnawed at her. What if they couldn't bring him back? What if the Enchanted Forest, still scarred by the remnants of Cora's curse, proved too much for him?

Her thoughts shifted to Henry. She had seen the fire in his eyes, the determination to act despite their insistence that he let them handle things. He's just like his father, she thought with a bittersweet smile. Stubborn to a fault. But his desperation worried her. Henry had always been willing to take risks, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was already plotting something. She made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him.

Then there was David. His energy was relentless, his speeches inspiring, but she knew him well enough to see the cracks forming. Beneath the confident exterior was a man struggling to balance his roles as a leader, a husband, and a father figure to Henry. His insistence on action mirrored her own need for control, and she knew how dangerous that impulse could be.

Regina turned back to the book, flipping through the pages with purpose. The answer had to be here—somewhere. Her magic, once a source of darkness and pain, had become her strongest ally. She could still feel the lingering traces of Cora's power in the world, like faint echoes of a song she wished she could forget. If Cora had been here, she would have known what to do. But her mother's legacy was as much a curse as it was a resource.

Her fingers stilled on a page filled with intricate diagrams and glyphs. A portal spell, ancient and incomplete, caught her attention. It spoke of tethering two realms together, of using emotional connections as a bridge. Her brow furrowed as she read the text, her mind racing. Could this be the key?

But the spell came with warnings—warnings of instability, of memories lost and bonds severed if not performed correctly. Her stomach churned at the thought. If she rushed this, if she made even one mistake, she could lose everything.

Regina closed the book with a sharp thud, her resolve hardening. "I'll figure this out," she muttered to herself. "I have to."

She glanced at the clock on her desk. It was late, but sleep was the last thing on her mind. There was too much to do, too much at stake. Her gaze drifted to a framed photo of Henry, Emmett, and herself on the shelf nearby. It was a rare moment of happiness, one that now felt so distant.

As she stared at the photo, a faint sound reached her ears—the creak of a floorboard upstairs. Her heart quickened, and she stood, her senses on high alert. Regina's instincts told her it wasn't a mere coincidence, but she hesitated, choosing not to investigate right away. Not yet, she thought. Whatever it is, I'll handle it in the morning.

With a deep breath, she sat back down, opening the book again. For now, she would focus on the problem at hand. The weight of her family's fate rested on her shoulders, and she wouldn't stop until she brought them home.

Late that night, the house was bathed in stillness, the kind of silence that made even the faintest sound seem amplified. Henry lay in bed, his mind racing. Thoughts of his father, Emmett, and his grandmother Snow trapped in the Enchanted Forest consumed him. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, of being dismissed and told to wait while the adults handled things. They don't understand, he thought. I have to do something.

The clock on his nightstand ticked softly, the hands glowing faintly in the dark. Henry took a deep breath and slipped out from under his blanket, his movements slow and deliberate. His bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a shiver up his spine. He reached for his flashlight, careful to mute the beam with his hand as he turned it on.

Quietly, he cracked open his bedroom door. The hallway stretched before him, dark and empty. The house felt different at night—larger somehow, more foreboding. Shadows stretched along the walls, shifting slightly as the flashlight's beam passed over them. He hesitated, listening for any sign that Regina or David might still be awake. But all he heard was the faint creak of the old house settling.

Henry stepped into the hallway, his socked feet muffling his steps. He moved slowly, inching past Regina's closed bedroom door, holding his breath as he passed it. The faint hum of the house's central heating was the only sound accompanying him as he crept toward the stairs.

The staircase loomed before him, its wooden steps seeming louder in his imagination than they had ever been during the day. Henry gripped the banister, testing each step carefully before committing his full weight. The creak of the third step made his heart lurch, and he froze, his ears straining for any sound of movement from upstairs.

Nothing. The house remained still.

He continued downward, step by step, until he reached the bottom. The living room was dim, the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains casting silvery patches on the floor. Henry's heart thudded in his chest as he made his way toward Regina's office. The door was ajar, the faint smell of polished wood and paper wafting out.

He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, his flashlight sweeping over the room. The desk sat in its usual place, neat and orderly, with papers stacked precisely in one corner. Henry approached it, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the top drawer. He tugged it open, the sound of wood sliding against wood startlingly loud in the quiet room.

Inside, the skeleton keys gleamed faintly under the flashlight's beam. Henry picked them up carefully, holding them in his palm for a moment as if they were more than just metal. This is it, he thought. This is how I can help.

He slipped the keys into his pocket, glancing around the room to make sure everything else was as he had found it. His heart pounded as he closed the drawer, the faint click echoing in the silence. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing with second thoughts. But the image of Emmett and Snow stranded in the Enchanted Forest pushed him forward. They're counting on me, he told himself.

Taking one last look around, Henry crept back out of the office, his steps just as careful as before. As he reached the stairs again, he glanced toward Regina's room, half expecting her to step out and catch him. But the door remained closed, and the house remained silent.

Henry made his way back to his room, his movements quick and purposeful now. He tucked the keys into a small box beneath his bed and climbed back under his blanket, his heart still racing. He stared at the ceiling, his mind already forming a plan. I'll get them back, he thought. No matter what.

With that, Henry closed his eyes, his resolve solidified. The night passed quietly, but the storm of events he had just set in motion was anything but calm.

The journey to Regina's vault was fraught with apprehension. Henry had never ventured there alone before, but desperation drove him. He needed to find something—anything—that could bring Emmett and Mary Margaret back.

The tomb's air was cool and damp as Henry descended the steps, his flashlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The flickering light revealed rows of boxes, each containing items tied to Regina's past. One box in particular caught his attention: the one holding her collection of hearts.

He paused briefly, staring at the glowing vessels, but shook his head. This isn't what I'm looking for.

Further inside, he spotted an ornate box, its lock rusted but still intact. Using the skeleton key, he unlocked it. The moment the lid creaked open, a pair of Agrabah vipers sprang out, their fangs glistening with venom. Henry stumbled back, dropping the flashlight as the snakes lunged.

At that exact moment, Regina burst into the vault, her hands glowing with magical energy. She hurled a blast of light at the vipers, sending them slithering back into the box. With a flick of her wrist, the lid slammed shut, and the snakes disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Henry!" Regina's voice was filled with panic as she rushed to him, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Henry shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "I… I just wanted to help."

Regina's expression softened, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "You could have been killed. What were you thinking?"

"I just want Dad back," Henry sobbed. "I want them all back."

Regina held him close, stroking his hair as tears filled her own eyes. "I know, Henry. I know. And we'll find a way. Together. But you can't do this alone. Promise me you'll come to me next time."

Henry nodded, his voice small. "I promise."

Regina pulled back, wiping his tears away. "We'll bring them home. I swear it. I will bring them home."

The next morning, David decided Henry needed a distraction. He arrived at Regina's house with two wooden swords, a mischievous smile on his face.

"What's this?" Henry asked, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the swords.

David handed him one. "If you're going to be a hero someday, you need to know how to defend yourself."

Henry grinned and followed David outside, where they sparred in the backyard. At first, Henry's swings were clumsy, but David was patient, teaching him the basics and offering encouragement.

"Good!" David said as Henry landed a solid hit. "You've got natural instincts, just like your ... like Emma."

Henry beamed, the weight of the previous night momentarily forgotten.

Unbeknownst to them, King George—Albert Spencer—watched from a distance, his car parked discreetly down the street. His eyes narrowed as he observed the two, his mind already crafting a plan.

"They're distracted," he muttered to himself, a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Perfect."