Hey," Emma smiled gently as she entered the hospital room with Mary Margaret peering over her shoulder. "Figured out the television?"

Regina tore her attention from the TV to meet Emma's gaze. "Did you know that there are temples in a realm called South America that were built by extraterrestrials from another planet? The television is fascinating."

Emma plucked the remote from Regina's hand and shut off the TV. "I think that's enough History Channel for now. How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Regina smiled. "That kind nurse gave me some sort of opiate, and I can feel it beginning to take effect. It's… blissful. Wonderful, truly wonderful."

Emma smiled as she sat the remote on the bedside table. "Morphine tends to have that effect."

Regina turned her head slowly in Ruby's direction. "Thank you for the instruction on how to remote the television. You're… wonderful."

Ruby patted Regina's hand with a kind smile. "No problem." She slowly stood, walking over to Mary Margaret.

Emma tenderly smoothed an errant hair on Regina's forehead. "Listen, sweetie. I'm going to go talk to my friends, grab some clean clothes, and check in on Henry. Why don't you try to get some sleep? The nurse must be pretty sure you don't have a concussion if she gave you morphine, so you should be okay to nod off."

Emma wouldn't have believed it had she not seen it, but the normally recalcitrant Mayor's eyes misted as her lower lip stuck out in a pout. "You're leaving me?"

Emma forced her words past the lump in her throat that had formed upon hearing the plaintive, resigned, and so utterly small voice that posed the question. "No, honey. I promise I'll be here when you wake up. Get some rest and you won't even notice I'm gone."

Regina seemed placated by the soothing tone of the deputy's voice and nestled down into her bedding, her head drooping to the side.

Ruby and Mary Margaret quietly filed out to wait awkwardly in the hall as Emma turned out the light and took one last backward glance towards the small figure in the bed.

"Emma?"

Emma paused, not quite sure if she had heard the whisper or imagined it, but nevertheless answered "Yeah?"

"Who's Henry?" Regina inquired, her quiet voice showing no hint of recognition.

Emma let her head hang as she contemplated what to tell Regina so as not to overwhelm her, her guilt and shame mixing with the dread of telling Henry that his mother didn't remember him.

"Henry's my kid," she answered finally. "He's ten. He's a bit headstrong, but he has a fantastic imagination."

Emma could barely make out a faint smile on Regina's face as the monitor cast a bluish glow across the room.

"My father's name is Henry," Regina murmured before drifting into a drug-induced sleep.

"'Sweetie'? 'Honey'? Emma, what is going on?" Mary Margaret spoke in a harsh whisper as the trio strode through the hospital corridors.

"What?" Emma replied defensively.

"Emma, in case you've forgotten you strongly dislike the mayor. Why do you have pet names for her all of a sudden?"

Emma crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I do not have pet names for her. Pet names are stupid things like 'cutie-face' and 'charming-butt'. I'm just being nice. Besides, in case you've forgotten that isn't the mayor in there. I mean it is, physically, but… I don't know who she is mentally right now but that's not the hardass bitchy mayor I strongly dislike." Emma sighed. "Whoever that is, she's scared and alone and needs help."

"Emma, did you see what you did to her? She needs your help like she needs another set of handprints around her neck."

Emma stopped in the middle of the hall, grabbing her roommate's arm. "What do you suggest then, huh? Who else is going to help her, the sheriff? He's off the deep end, obsessed with some glowing, pulsing thing he found in the mausoleum and convinced it's the heart Regina pulled from his chest. Her next of kin? He's ten. You saw her, she needs someone. She's willing to let me be that person, so I'm going to fix what I did and do what I can to fix her. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to wash Regina's blood out of my hair before picking up her son and getting back here before whoever that is in there wakes up screaming 'please, I'll be good' like she was when I found her coughing blood all over her father's tomb!"

Mary Margaret started to follow Emma as the blonde stormed off, but she was stopped by Ruby. "Let her go, blow off steam. Your emotions are running high because you thought she was in danger and her adrenaline is pumping because of this whole shitstorm. You both need to cool off."

Mary Margaret shook off Ruby's grasp but remained standing in the same place as she flashed back to something strange.

The cool rush of wind in her face, the shifting muscles of the horse below her. Light falling light-greenish through the canopy of leaves. The murmur of her father's guards growing quieter as they became more distant, as she pushed farther ahead. The tree-line thinning as she neared an open field. A voice puncturing the quiet of the forest, distant and faint but noticeable. Pained, plaintive. "Please mother, I'll be good!" A surge of concern, quickly forgotten when a young guard caught up and began to chastise her for worrying her father by riding ahead alone.

Mary Margaret shook her head to dispel the impossible memory.

"Let's just go to the diner. You guys have wine, right?"

"Okay, what's going on?" Henry tried yet again to pry information from Emma as he sat buckled in to the passenger seat of the Bug, staring at the bruising forming under both of her eyes. The determined focus with which Emma watched the road and the rattled look he hadn't seen on her before put him on edge. "It's one o'clock in the morning, where are we going? Why was Sheriff Graham at my house, am I in trouble? What did he have in that box? Where are you taking me so urgently that you wouldn't even let me change out of my pajamas?"

Emma had tuned out most of Henry's questions, but one caused a bubbling up of shame and guilt and worry.

"Where's my mom?"

Henry fell silent when Emma opened her mouth as if to speak, but gave an exasperated sigh when she closed it without speaking and began to chew her lower lip.

"Come on, I know something bad must have happened. Usually you try to tell me to ride in back because it's safer, but this time you didn't say anything when I sat up front and didn't even remind me to put my seat belt on. What's going on? Is Ms. Blanchard okay?"

Emma glanced over to Henry to double-check that he was indeed wearing his seat belt before answering. "Mary Margaret is fine. Annoyed, but fine."

Henry's eyes widened as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Emma, what's going on? You're scaring me. What happened to your face, and your knuckles? Why are we at the hospital?"

Emma sighed as she parked next to where she had left Regina's car when she decided to walk to the bug before going to the apartment to clean herself up. She avoided eye contact as she turned to Henry, dreading this conversation. Henry wasn't looking at her, however.

"That's my mom's car, isn't it? Emma, what's going on? Where is my mom?"

"She's okay. She's resting."

"At the hospital? Define 'okay'."

Emma fought a sardonic smile as she saw Regina reflected so clearly in her son.

"Listen, kid. Your mom and I kind of fought, physically. Things got a little out of hand and… Well basically she's better now, stable. The surgery to fix her ribs was quick, and they have her hand in a cast. She has some pretty nasty bruising on her neck, but the x-ray showed that it didn't fracture her hyoid or anything."

"Wait," Emma was confused and a little alarmed as she noted a spark of excitement mixed with disappointment in Henry's eyes. "So you fought the Evil Queen, but the curse didn't break?"

"Henry!" Emma allowed her exhaustion and frustration to seep into her voice. "Cut the crap, this is not the time for Operation Cobra."

Henry slunk back into his seat shamefully. "So are we gonna go see her?"

"Yeah, in just a minute. But first there's something you need to know."

Henry grew anxious as Emma ran her hand through her hair nervously. "What is it? You said she was resting, do you mean she's in a coma or something? Emma, define 'okay'."

"No, she's not in a coma," Emma reassured. "No, she's… she's not herself."

"Not herself?" Henry parroted in confusion.

"Henry, she seems to be suffering some sort of amnesia or delusion or something. She didn't recognize me, or Mary Margaret or Ruby."

Emma suddenly pitied every foster parent she had ever subjected to her own set of puppy eyes. Henry's voice was small, though he tried to feign indifference. "Does she know who I am?"

Emma sighed, deciding to give it to him straight. "When I mentioned that I was going to check in on you she asked who you were. I told her that you were my son. I didn't mention that you were also hers."

Henry was quiet as he got out of the car and followed Emma into the hospital and towards the elevators. He sullenly pressed the button for the second floor when prompted by Emma, fixing his gaze on the little indicator of the current level.

"She said her father's name was Henry," Emma stated, trying to make conversation. She frowned when she saw his brow furrow. "Never knew you were named after your grandpa?"

Henry shook his head. "She never mentioned it. I guess it never occurred to me that she had parents."