You carry the book to breakfast and out to the stables and lay it down on the bench beside where Gramps is teaching you to fight with a sword. You bring it with you when you visit Grams and the baby and you bring it with you when Ma pulls you into the kitchens for what turns out to be Ruby and Granny secretly making American-style burgers for the castle.

You don't open it. (For a minute after that burger, you think about it, but you resist.) You want to talk to Regina- you want to tell her everything, to demand answers for what she'd said, to accuse her of lies again until she admits it- but instead you're left hollow, betrayed, your heart beating a staccato rhythm against your chest as though in reminder and an odd familiarity to this feeling that you can't place. You're angry with her for lying, angry with her for the parts that must be true, and angriest of all that she'd do this to you in the first place. Regina has been a constant since your second week in this land, as close to family as Grams is, and her words cut deeper because of their intent, not even their content.

You stay close to Grams and Gramps and avoid Ma, too, because Ma can always tell when you're upset and you don't want her to know about this. You're still guarding your secrets with the same jealousy as before, the same desire for them to remain just yours and Regina's, and no matter how much you distance yourself from Regina, you aren't prepared to surrender that. You wonder if Regina still does the same, but you don't dare say anything to Ma to find out.

Gramps shows up for dinner on your second day since you've last opened the book with a long cut running across the length of his arm. "Flying monkey with a knife got a little too close to the castle," he explains briefly, wincing when Ma pulls up his torn sleeve to inspect the wound. "Our fortifications have been holding steady most of the time, but this one broke through."

You think about suggesting that he bring it to Regina for healing, but you haven't figured out what to say before Ma beats you to it, anyway. "That looks pretty nasty, David. I'm going to go get some help before it gets infected." She looks at you for a moment, and it's enough for you to know exactly what kind of help she's getting. "Henry, do you think you could wait with Grams and the baby until I come get you?"

You shrug, climbing out of your seat, and you're climbing up the stairs to where you know there's a false panel in the ceiling of the dining hall before anyone notices that you're not heading to Grams.

And when Regina sweeps iMan below, Ma's fingers wrapped around her elbow as she follows, you're startled to see that she's wearing a grey dress- neat, conservative, and very much of your realm instead of hers. She isn't in costume today, and when she sits down next to Gramps you can hear the low murmurs from everyone else in the room as they take her in, her clothes an anachronism in the room of royal finery.

Regina sighs, irritable already. "Why don't you give it a try, Miss Swan?"

"You want my dad to be my guinea pig?" Ma says dubiously. "What if I accidentally turn him into a frog or something?" Gramps looks from woman to woman, and you almost laugh at the sudden trepidation on his face. You know he doesn't like magic to begin with, and if Ma and Grams hadn't been so insistent that Ma learn about her abilities, he'd probably take the injury over this volatile healing.

"Then there will be no difference," Regina retorts archly. "Go ahead. Gather your magic, will the skin to knit together properly." Her voice softens. "You're capable of this."

"Okay." Ma licks her lips and shuts her eyes, but you're not watching her and Gramps anymore, not when Regina's face is tilting upward toward the wooden panel that conceals you, frowning at the narrow crack where you're peering through at her. She can't see you but you can see her perfectly, enough to trace the worn lines of her face and the darkness in her eyes.

She looks as though she hasn't slept in days, as though there's some immeasurable sadness she's been coping with, and it's worse than she'd been even before you'd ever spoken through the book.

It has nothing to do with you, you tell yourself, because it would be silly and naïve to think otherwise.

Somehow, though, you're back the next night, walking the familiar route to the east wing and slipping into your usual spot behind the walls of Regina's study, watching her through the gaps in the stone. She's reading at her table, a hot drink in one hand, and her head is dipping so low as she squints at the words that you can barely see her face.

You're still holding your book but you don't open it, not even when you see the identical book still resting on the bench beside the sorceress. You remain in place, still and quiet, and you watch her read with quiet intensity, imagining a cord that ties you to her still, that keeps you connected even when she denies that that connection exists.

And it must be true, because she raises her face after dozens of minutes hunched over in place and you know that she senses you at last. You don't know how to qualify the expression that settles on her face, resigned and helpless and hopeful all at once as she whispers, "Henry?"

She opens your shared book and you hold on tight to yours as she flips to the last page where you'd written, the words still standing out at you against the worn white of the paper. You don't control my heart.

"Henry?" she says again, and her voice is almost timid, almost longing, almost how you've been feeling for the past three days.

You don't respond, you don't open the book, and she falls silent again, her eyes on the unchanging page as your own eyes bore holes into her bent figure.

And now it's the same ritual, night after night, sneaking back into Regina's quarters to check in on her. She looks more exhausted with each passing night, more worn out and unhappy, and she sleeps stretched out across the couch beside your spot in the wall more often than not.

You don't even notice that you've been doing the exact same thing until Grams comments on the bags under your eyes one morning. "Have you been sleeping well?"

"I'm fine," you mumble.

"You don't look fine," she says, and you flush and stare stubbornly at the wall, refusing to acknowledge it. Your back hurts from hunching over in one position so often, your eyes hurt from squinting through the stone, and your heart hurts because it hasn't stopped since the moment Regina told you that it was just a magical side effect.

Grams fusses over you and you can't help but think about Regina, locked away in her quarters, with no one to take care of her like Grams takes care of you. You shouldn't feel so bad about it but you do anyway, and it's why you follow Ma to the east wing the next time she heads there.

You don't like watching Ma and Regina interact anymore, not when your book remains closed and Ma can reach out to touch Regina anytime, can sit beside her on the couch shoulder-to-shoulder and talk as freely as anyone else can. You don't like looking at the rare smirk that spreads across Regina's face when Ma's around, at the way her eyes light up with life for even a moment of argument with Ma.

You're not quite sure which urge is stronger in you now- the desire to see Regina as affected by your absence as you are hers, or the need to see her happy for even a moment without you, and Ma complicates everything by making that happiness so easy for Regina when it's still so hard for you.

Regina's eyes are half-lidded right now and emotionless as she leans back against her armchair, staring up at Ma. "Bees."

"Killer bees," Ma insists. "David thinks enough of them can break through all the protective barriers we've set up." Her hands are twisting against her sides with impatience you recognize as eagerness. "We should really fortify the lake boundaries."

Regina studies her, unconvinced. "Are you trying to force me outside?" she demands. "Do you know how reckless that is?"

Ma shrugs. "The Witch already knows you're still alive or she wouldn't be sending all these scouts instead of coming herself. And Henry's in bed." You catch the way Regina flinches at your name, the way Ma watches her with sharp eyes. "There's no reason not to go out there."

"I have no desire to spend any time outside my quarters." Regina curls her lip in disdain. "If you want to fortify the barriers, we can do it from here."

You can see the knowing way Ma cocks her head at Regina. "Come on, Regina. When's the last time you've been outside?" She pauses, frowning. "When's the last time you've had a visitor aside from me?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm not like you. I don't need people. Especially not these people."

"When, Regina."

The other woman looks down, uncomfortable. "Tink came by plenty until you arrived."

Ma brightens. "Oh yeah, I saw her out on patrols. She got her wings back."

"A bribe." Regina rolls her eyes. "The Blue Fairy wanted her away from me, so she offered her fairyhood again on strict conditions."

"And she just sold out like that?" Ma looks displeased, almost angry with the fairy they're talking about, and you make a mental note to ask Grams about Tink next time you see her. "That's kind of shitty of her."

But Regina is shaking her head. "I told her to do it. I won't have her ruining her life for me." She says something else, low and bitter, but you can't make it out and Ma can't either, judging from the way she stares at Regina after.

Finally she shifts, her eyes steeling like she does when you've tried her patience a little too far. "You're coming outside with me," she orders. "This- this thing you do where you sit around and wallow-" Regina's head jerks up, outraged, and Ma ignores her. "It's unhealthy and it's useless and…" Her voice falters. "I don't like to see you like this, okay?" Ma murmurs, turning to the door, and she shuffles out of the room, not checking to see if Regina follows.

You're startled to see that she does without complaint.

You wait a good ten minutes before you exit your spot in the wall and take off after them, slipping out through a back entrance and making your way around the castle wall toward the lake. From far you can see the water roiling, reflecting the moonlight in a wave of silver energy, jets of it shooting up and falling down all through the lake like the kind of water show you've gone with Ma to see on holidays. You stop to watch it with curious wonder, to study the whirling water and the waves crashing into each other in the normally calm lake, and only then do you catch sight of the two figures silhouetted against the rising water.

It's unmistakably Ma and Regina, Regina's fingers tight on Ma's waist and Ma's hand at the back of Regina's neck. They're kissing, magical energy flowing around them and into the lake, and you freeze in place, your book dropping from your arms as you stare at them. You can't look away for a long moment, can't do anything but gape at the two of them as they remain locked together in each other's embrace, oblivious to the energy powering the lake or anything else but each other.

You finally remember yourself and run, run far from both of them, from the magic and the kissing and the inevitability of it all until you can fling yourself across your bed, panting, relieved and upset and not sure at all how you feel about any of this yet.

You come back from breakfast in the morning and find your book tucked under your pillow, the gold edging poking out over your blanket. You wonder if it's enchanted to return to you when you lose it. You wonder if Regina saw it on the ground and magicked it back to you.

You wonder if she knows what you saw last night.

Were you my stepmom? You stare down at the words, scribbled across the page hastily like you'd been afraid that you'd lose courage halfway through the question, and then look up again at Regina, who's leaning back against the couch, watching Ma with lazy eyes as she tries to keep a fireball in her hand for long enough to hurl it Regina's way. She looks loose and relaxed for the first time since you've met her and the sadness is only lurking at the corner of her eyes now, and you try not to think about what might have triggered this change in her.

It's the first time you've thought about writing to her again in a long time, and maybe it's because she seems so content when you're not, when you're both supposed to be miserable and it's all her fault and if she's forgotten about you for even a second with Ma, it isn't fair at all.

You scold yourself for your thoughts because there's a second part of you that's glad to see Regina like this, that's glad to know that Ma cares about her and is looking out for her (even if you never want to see them kiss again, but that's your prerogative as long-suffering son), and you're so confused, you're jealous and you're happy and you're resentful and you're relieved and you just want to talk to Regina and feel like you matter to her again, like you're…

You inhale a muffled sob, because you've never wanted any of your theories to be as true as this newest one. Regina's stepson. Regina's son. You want that family, you and Ma and Regina, and you want that to be the memories you've lost.

But if Regina looks at her book, you don't see it, and your question remains unanswered no matter how many times over the next few days you check for a response.

"I'm still worried about Henry," Ma says, and you perk up at the mention of your name. You've been studying them for a while, eyes pressed to your peephole in the wall and your book still tight against your chest as you take in the scene in the study. Regina is sitting at her table in her usual position, but Ma is perched on the table with little more than a disapproving look from the sorceress in question, a leg planted on the edge of Regina's chair and Regina's palm splayed over her thigh. They look…comfortable, at home together, and you struggle not to imagine how they'd sit in your apartment in New York, Ma on the floor between Regina's legs while you curl up on the couch beside Regina, watching some terrible action movie that you and Ma have demanded.

You want…

It doesn't matter what you want.

You catch the guilt that crosses Regina's face when Ma speaks, the tensing of her jaw and the way her eyes immediately drop to the spellbook she's supposed to be reading. "I'm sure he's fine," she says tightly.

"Really?" Ma squints at her. "I'm worried about Henry and that's all you have to say?"

Regina doesn't meet her eyes, and her hand drops from where it had been drawing circles against Ma's knee. "He's an adolescent. They're prone to mood swings and inexplicable behavior."

Ma shrugs. "So are you, but I'd still be worried if you were skipping our lessons and walked around like the weight of the world was on your shoulders."

"I'm sure he'll get over it." Her fingers trace the pattern of her name on her book, and Ma reaches out to grab it. You tense, but Regina's faster, and Ma disappears and reappears across the room, slipping onto the floor butt-first.

"Hey!"

Regina ignores her, her lips twitching nearly imperceptibly. "Henry will be fine. You've taken good care of him."

Ma's eyes widen and she vanishes in her own cloud of magic, but she doesn't reappear for a few moments, and you snicker when you hear her cursing from an indistinct pattern of movement that ripples in the air. Regina sighs and lifts a hand, magicking her back in place on the table. Ma's smiling, her eyes soft with emotion. "What?" Regina barks out.

Ma shrugs. "Oh, nothing." But she leans down to kiss Regina and Regina pulls her onto her lap, and you make a face and a hurried departure before you witness anything too scarring. Spying on their magic lessons has become a perilous game since that night at the lake.

You still sleep in Regina's walls even after Ma comments on your absence at night, concerned that you're sleepwalking again like you've been doing for the past year, walking into walls and dreaming about doors and rooms that don't exist. "I'm fine," you mumble, and if Regina and you were talking you'd ask her about the sleepwalking, if it had been a side effect of your memories being taken away.

Some nights Regina knows you're there, and you watch from the wall as she lies down to sleep on the couch beside you. Other nights you enter the wall and can see her sitting on the floor, back ramrod-straight against your hidden door, and you sit with your own back against the other side, only the thick stone between you. You open your book each time and you see no messages, but you can't pull yourself away.

Still other nights she isn't there at all. You know she must be in her bedroom, where there are no outer walls where you can watch her, and you leave those nights before you fall asleep. There's a gulf between you now that had never been there when you'd shared the books and spoken to each other, and now the empty room and the photograph on the desk only mock you with their presence.

You don't like seeing her quarters without her, and when you arrive one night and find her absent, you sigh, feeling weariness beyond your age, and turn to go.

A shadow passes in your peripheral vision and you twist, peering back into the room with renewed hope as you see a figure dressed in one of Regina's robes bent down into the refrigerator at the doorway to the kitchen.

"Jackpot," you hear the exclamation, and startle. That isn't Regina.

The figure stands, and then you see the blonde curls and you're absolutely outraged because it's…

"Ma?"

You say it too loud, your brain already freezing over with the realization of what exactly Ma is doing in Regina's quarters and robe in the middle of the night, and Ma jerks, her eyes going wide. "Henry?" she demands, her voice exactly your tone. "Where are you?" She looks around wildly, glaring at the photo on the desk as though it's the one talking. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You push the stone wall aside, almost amused at the way Ma jumps as the wall slides open. "What am I doing here?" you echo. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me that," you add quickly, glancing at the closed door to the bedroom with sudden queasiness. "I don't want to know."

Ma shakes her head, still gaping at you. "Does Regina know you're here?" She closes her eyes. "Of course she does. Why do I even ask?"

You stare at her as she turns back to the kitchen, opening a drawer and snagging two spoons, brandishing the jar of peanut butter she's holding like it's a beacon of peace. "Sit down," she orders. "We're gonna talk now."

You eye her doubtfully. "Regina would never let you eat peanut butter straight from the jar. It's unsanitary."

"What are you, my mother?" Ma wrinkles her nose at you. "It's chunky peanut butter. It's meant to be eaten plain."

"I don't think that's a thing." Still, you follow her to the kitchen and sit at the table, retrieving a spoon and digging in. It tastes like home, like years of sandwiches and school and a world you suddenly miss more than ever. Ma nearly moans and you narrow your eyes at her. "Are you just using me to make sure that Regina doesn't come out here and yell at you?"

"Ha ha." She licks the side of her spoon, eyes falling closed with ecstasy.

You're not impressed. "That's not an answer."

She dips her finger into the jar and swipes your forehead, leaving a dot of peanut butter behind. And when you wipe it away, the blissful expression on her face is gone and she's staring at you with eyes that know too much. "So. What'd she do to you?"

"Wh-what?"

"What'd she do to you? Say to you," she amends. "Write to you? What did Regina do that's had you so down?"

You grip the book in one hand, feeling more betrayed than you have since that first night of lies. "Regina told you that we've been writing to each other."

Ma frowns. "Regina? No. She guards that book like it holds all the secrets of the universe, just like you do." She leans forward, poking you in the forehead again. "With your exactly identical secret book. C'mon kid, I might not have made straight A's in junior high like you, but I'm not an idiot. Who do you think stuck yours under your pillow last week?"

"Oh." You feel like an idiot yourself, suddenly, that Ma has seen the obvious and you'd never even thought of the risk there. "Are you…are you going to tell anyone?"

Ma digs into the peanut butter again, swirling her tongue over the metal of the spoon contemplatively. "You know, the first thing I thought when I got my memories back was what a crap deal you and Regina had with this new curse. Everyone…well, Mary Margaret, anyway…she thought about it in terms of what Regina had lost. And she thinks that it's some kind of redemptive sacrifice that makes Regina the hero of the story, someone who's finally managed to join the side of good. Maybe she's right, I don't know." She chews on a peanut. "No one seems to understand how much you'd lost with your memories. And what it's like for Regina, knowing what you've both lost when you don't."

You lay your book down on the table, staring at the engraved cover. "Regina says that we didn't have anything in Storybrooke." You repeat the words you still remember mechanically, the arguments she'd presented that you'd shouted off as lies and still can't quite believe. The idea that you were only Ma's son, the idea that you're only her price because of that, the idea that your heart is magically keyed to her because it's anchored.

And when you're done, Ma rolls her eyes and leans forward on her hands, giving you the words you've been craving for weeks. "Henry, Regina is a liar."

You're horrified to discover that you're crying, ugly tears spilling free with that revelation and the confirmation you've been so desperate for. And then Ma's there, guiding you to the other room to sit down on the couch, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. "You know, someone once tried to take my heart out," she murmurs. "And you know why it didn't work? You know what anchors hearts?"

You shake your head, your book still tight in your arms. "Love," Ma says. "True love. The kind that breaks curses and inspires fairy tales and can pay the price for saving a whole town. And I've had my doubts about Regina in the past- the lady's been a terror at the best of times and we had much more in the way of the worst of times together- but I haven't doubted her love for you since the first weeks that we met." You can see her blurry smile through your tears. "Regina has always been consistent on that one thing."

"Then why did she-" You know why she lied to you, why she'd said the things she did. You remember the door in the wall creaking open, the exhilarating feeling of discarding the price and seeing Regina at last, and the way your world had fallen apart moments later with a few well-placed words.

"She knows you hate- more than anything else- being lied to." Ma squeezes your shoulder. "And the Regina we knew in Storybrooke used to hold on to the people she loved a little too tightly, but Regina here…I think she's started pushing people away when it's too dangerous to keep them close. Pulling an Emma," she mumbles, a little ruefully. She scowls, unhappy with her own revelation.

You match her scowl. "You never pushed me away," you point out, and Ma's face falls and she's suddenly holding you tighter than before, squeezing you so close to her that you can barely breathe, and you hear a single sob escape her throat before she buries her face in your hair and cradles you against her like you're a baby again.

"Regina ruined my life," she whispers when she's able to talk again. "Ruined it moments after I was born, then spent my first year in Storybrooke trying to ruin it again." She presses a kiss to your forehead, her eyes somewhere far away. "And then she gave me everything that's ever mattered to me one day a year ago at-" She loosens her grip on you and you both sag. "At a price that I don't think I can ever repay. To give you your best chance."

"I don't understand," you say uncertainly.

Ma cocks her head, watching you with easy warmth. "Let's talk about stuff, okay? Just you and me. Go back to your room, I'm just going to-" She nods to the closed door to the bedroom. "Say goodnight."

You wrinkle your nose. "Aren't you…in the middle of a date or something?"

Ma gives you a little shove as she stands up. "You're always gonna come first. For both of us," she says, glancing at Regina's door. "Don't ever doubt that."

Ma's wearing Regina's pajamas when she climbs into your bed next to you, but you don't say anything about it, just rest your head against the satin on her arm and say, "What was it like in Storybrooke? Between us and Regina, I mean."

Ma shifts. "We were nemeses, kind of. She and I, I mean. Not you. She always loved you."

"Always?" you repeat. "Always from when?"

Ma doesn't answer that. "She did use you as a pawn to drive a wedge between us at first, which was pretty crappy and just made me madder. Never a smart idea to make me angry." She winks at you from the other side of the pillow and you laugh. "I may have taken a chainsaw to her favorite tree once. Of course, then she accidentally poisoned you with a magic apple turnover, so-"

"How do you accidentally poison someone?" This is the evil queen you've heard of, and you're fascinated and perplexed. If Regina had loved you- and Ma insists that she did- then she really hadn't been very good at loving, had she?

Ma shrugs. "Oh, it had been meant for me. You ate it to prove to me that all of this-" She waves at the room around you. "-Was real, and that your…Regina was the villain of the story." Her eyes are warm again. "They keep calling me the Savior, but you were just as much a savior as I was. I kissed you and woke you up, and we broke the curse together."

"What did Regina do?"

"When you were hurt?" Ma furrows her brow. "She helped me save you. Actually shoved me into a fight with a dragon." She shakes her head. "Simpler times. And why does that make me nostalgic now instead of furious?"

"Because now you're in love with her?" you suggest.

Ma lets out a funny little croak, her eyes rounding in denial. "Whoa, whoa, let's not–"

You raise your eyebrows at her smugly. "Because now you're sleeping with her?"

Ma rolls over so her back is to you. "Please go away right now and come back when you're five again. I want my baby back." She falls silent then, her breath turning ragged and coming too fast, but she doesn't turn over again until you poke her and ask more questions about Regina and Storybrooke and the years you can't remember.

She answers them all, though she's still holding back on the information you don't know enough to ask for, and you talk and talk until the early morning, just you and your ma in pajamas that smell like a home you can't possibly remember.

You awaken to low voices, your room still dim enough that you can tell it's barely sunrise. Ma is standing in the doorway, still in pajamas with her hair rumpled from sleep, and you can just make out Grams in front of her. "We don't know how long she's been trapped in there," Grams is saying. "The guards only saw the green smoke coming from her window when they changed stations. And no one can break through the wards on her door."

Ma nods, spins around, and you're being yanked out of bed before you can even rub your eyes, pulled toward the door and past Grams as you stumble along and she calls after you, "You're bringing Henry with you?"

"Where are we going?" you venture, but you recognize this path better than anyone, and your brain is waking up enough to piece together the information you have. Someone trapped in her room. Green smoke in the window.

Regina is trapped in her quarters, and the Wicked Witch has come visiting.

You quicken your pace behind Ma, panting as she strides up staircases and through hallways without looking back. "Time to save the day, Henry," is all she says, and her jaw is clenched and you think that maybe this is your fault. Maybe if Ma had been in there with Regina when the Witch had come…

You can't think like that. Ma would have been in just as much danger as Regina, maybe more. And you, better than anyone, know that there's still hope for Ma to help with the fight as long as you're with her.

Gramps is in the passageway outside Regina's quarters with five other men and a large, metal-headed battering ram, slamming it against the door again and again as you approach. The door remains firm, green magic leaking out from inside, and Ma squeezes your shoulder and steps forward. "Hey, David."

"Emma, thank the gods you're here." Gramps holds up a hand and the men stop moving. "We've been at a loss. Whatever's going on in there, the Witch isn't looking for guests."

Ma glares at the door as though it'll burst into flames through sheer willpower alone. "She'll have one."

"Look…" Gramps glances at you once and then he's guiding Ma away from you, back away from Regina's door and that sickly magic that it glows with. You follow anyway, catching your mother's eye as you do. "There's been no shouting, no screaming. Nothing that sounds like the Witch is hurting Regina at all. Just low voices talking, and…it's possible the Witch has managed to recruit a partner."

You stare at Gramps with incredulity, and Ma mirrors your face. "Seriously, David? Aren't we past that?"

Gramps sighs, ducking his head. "I guess so, but she's still…" He blinks. "What are you wearing?"

Ma ignores him, high spots on appearing on her cheeks as she turns back to you. "Henry, can you get me in?"

You answer by walking to a familiar spot on the wall and tracing the stone bricks you know better than any, finding the place where they slide silently into the wall. Ma ducks in without hesitation, turning back only to say, "Don't come after me, Dad. I'll get the door open as quickly as I can, but I don't think anything but magic is going to hurt the Witch."

You've never heard her call Gramps Dad before and he's just as startled as you, his lips curling into a surprised smile and parting to say, "Emma…" one last time before she vanishes into the passageway.

You make to follow her when Gramps lays a restraining hand on your shoulder. "You can't go in there, Henry. It's too dangerous." He winces. "You shouldn't be here at all, actually. There's nothing stopping the Witch from charging out here and killing us all."

You want to protest, to point out that you're a master at finding your way through the castle undetected and that you're the perfect one to spy on whatever's going on in Regina's quarters right now, but Gramps is shaking his head and looking at you like you're just a kid, suddenly, and you don't have time to argue with him. So you shrug sulkily and stalk away from Gramps, back along the way you've come, and wait until you're two corridors away before you push aside a faded portrait on the wall and slip into the hole in the wall behind it.

The passage here is dustier, rarely used, and you stumble a few times before you make it back to your usual place behind Regina's quarters– where you immediately bump into the figure crouched by your spot behind the couch. "Dammit! Henry?" Ma glares at you in the dim light. "Do not move from this spot, understood?"

You nod, afraid to make a sound, and then you hear the low, chilling laugh. "Well, well, well. Do we have a visitor? Please, do come out and make yourself at home." The voice is soft and dangerous, and your skin breaks out in goosebumps as you peer through the wall and see the green-skinned woman with her eyes on Ma.

"Oh, crap." Ma fumbles with the wall, struggling to push it open, and you slide a hand over to the latch, guiding her fingers with you. "Not a word," she warns you, and then she's pushing the door open and swaggering out into Regina's apartment as though she'd really gotten a personal invitation.

You peek through the wall as she slams the door shut, taking in the room beyond the wall. It's filled with that magical green smoke that sits heavily in place, not drifting, not moving, densest near the center of the room where the witch stands and wispier at the edges, where Ma is striding out of. And Regina is wrapped in the thickest of the magic, green energy heavy around her, the sorceress suspended in midair as the Witch circles her. "And who is this?" the Witch coos, tugging on Regina's loose hair as Regina glares down at her. "Not the apprentice my ravens spoke of?"

"Emma, your presence here is unnecessary," Regina bites out. "This is between me and Zelena."

Ma rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it really looks like you don't need me." She's chewing on her lip, her brow furrowed like it does whenever she calls up her magic, and the air ripples outward, sending shockwaves of blue through the green smoke, shoving it aside with sheer force as it surges toward Regina. Regina's purple magic emerges from her faster than you've ever seen, flowing into the blue as though it's drawn to it, and she falls to the ground as the green smoke unravels, retreating back into the Wicked Witch.

"Now this is interesting," the Witch says, delicately stepping to the side as Ma's and Regina's magic seems to burst outward, casting low shadows on the walls until they're glowing with the energy, too, the whole room thrumming with magic. Ma is standing in front of Regina now, hands held outward protectively, and you notice with some concern that the purple magic is dissipating while the blue remains. How long had Regina been held here without anyone knowing? How much energy does she have left?

The Witch smiles, low and threatening, and then she's attacking again, sparks of green energy hurling themselves at Ma from every direction until Ma is whirling around, her own magic faltering at the attack on all sides. It's more than you've ever seen Regina teach her to cope with and she's unable to counter it, and you cry out, unheard in the crackling magic, as a green fireball hits her arm and turns Regina's pajama sleeve to ash in an instant. "Dammit!" Ma manages before she charges forward, ignoring the pain in her arm, and pulls back her left fist and punches the Witch in the face.

"So much more effective," Regina murmurs from where she's still crouched on the floor, smirking through the tension as the Witch reels back, eyes flashing dangerously. "Like a bull in a china shop."

"Turns you on a little, doesn't it?" Ma tosses back, but she's grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet and drawing back for another punch. This time the Witch fades away as Ma moves forward and reappears behind her, pressing two fingers to the back of her neck and conjuring more green energy that tightens around it. Ma chokes, slipping forward into the desk as her magic whirls wildly around her. "Re-Regina-"

"Let her go," Regina orders. "Your quarrel is with me, not my apprentice." You know her well enough to recognize the panic at the edges of her voice, threatening to escape the steel in which she encases her words.

The Witch shakes her head, winding a second ring of magic around Ma's neck, and your fingers are on the latch to the door. You won't stand by and let Ma die, not when Regina is too weak to fight and you're so close to them both. You don't even think about the price of stepping out there, not when Ma is in danger.

"I've been observing you for a long time, Regina." She laughs lowly. "She seems to matter very much to you, and that makes all the difference. As does the little brat," she adds, triumph in her voice. "Where is the boy today, I wonder?"

It's enough for both Ma and Regina to jerk into action, Ma's foot slamming down on the Witch's as Regina leaps to her feet, her magic alive and dangerous around her. "You stay the hell away from him," she hisses as the Witch's magic releases Ma. "I will destroy you."

"Perhaps he's tucked safely into bed," the Witch muses, stepping aside easily. "Like a good little boy." Her eyes shift, and you can see the magic glowing behind them as they settle on your face, behind the wall. "But he isn't a good little boy, is he?"

Ma leaps on her, yanking her by the hair until she fades out of sight again, and this time, the storm of green magic is faster than before, rapidly whirling around Ma while she struggles to fight it.

And then…somehow…her eyes fall shut and her magic swells outward again, stronger than before and more focused, batting aside each attack as though they're easy to avoid. She's using magic like a pro and you forget to be afraid because you're so impressed up until the moment that you see the purple strings of magic that have wound their way from Regina's fingers to Ma, guiding her through the motions like a magical puppetmaster. Regina's forehead is shiny with sweat and Ma is panting but they're warding off the blows even as the magic surges stronger around them, green fireballs dancing closer and closer as the Witch remains out of sight.

You can still hear her breathing, though, somewhere close by, and when you hear the voice millimeters from your ear whisper, "Hello, Henry," you can only brace yourself against the wall, preparing for your own destruction.

The Witch's hand is pressed to the thin material of your pajamas, splayed across your back, burning with magic against your skin. "Not a sound, little boy," she murmurs.

Ma is leaping through the air like an acrobat, shooting her magic across the room while Regina controls her movements, and neither of them seems aware of the danger you're in. You want to cry out but you can feel the witch's breath sending prickling fear through your neck, can see the faint glow of her green magic, and you remain silent instead. "I think," she whispers, "If I take you both, Regina will have nothing. The girl is useless without Regina, and you're just a helpless child, aren't you?" She's not like the movie villain, all futile attacks and sneering faces. This Wicked Witch of the West is cool and assessing, every silken word from her mouth calculated to inspire terror. "What can you do?"

You can almost hear the smile in her voice as she leans forward. "For that matter, what can she?"

You think she's talking about Ma until you see the energy glowing in the kitchen, a green fireball that's growing in size as Ma darts from side to side, fighting the storm of energy that still has yet to lessen. Regina's eyes are fixed on her and the maelstrom around her, oblivious to the danger behind her as the energy surges up toward her back.

Your finger is still hooked on the latch, and the Witch's hand is still sizzling against your skin.

You don't think about it, about the danger behind you and the world you've promised to keep safe, about the Witch or Grams's warnings or the fact that you're still very angry with Regina. You see the fireball heading toward her and you simply react, flying out of the wall and away from the witch to throw yourself at Regina, shoving her aside as the fireball hits the couch instead and turns it into a black pile of ash.

Regina turns at the last moment, sensing your movement, and her arms stretch out to catch you, dark eyes meeting yours for the first time, and the world shimmers around you as you stare at each other. "Henry," she breathes. "Oh, no."

Because you can see the reflection in her eyes of more green smoke, lighter than the Witch's but just as potent-looking, and you don't want to look around, to see the price that you're all going to pay because of your recklessness. You don't want to look anywhere but up at Regina as she holds you, her eyes shining and her heart captured within them, and you're both frozen in place instead of reacting as the green smoke billows into the room.

"Regina!" You hear Ma from a distance. "It's Pan's curse!"

That registers for both of you and you startle, taking in your surroundings. The green smoke is coming closer, the magic steeped within the room the only thing slowing it down, and the Witch is putting up shields that fall as quickly as they come. "What have you done, boy?" she hisses, stumbling toward you. Regina tightens her hold on you, turning to raise a hand to the witch, and you catch sight of Ma running through green smoke with her own hands outstretched.

The Witch strikes as Ma does the same, sparks of blue and green crashing into Regina's purple and radiating outward back at their casters just as Pan's curse thunders around you all.

There's a roaring in your ears, drowning out your cry, and you duck down as Regina wraps her arms around you and keeps your head at her shoulder. And then you're all four captured within the magical blending of light and dark, caught in the smoke as it whirls around you but can't do any damage against the combined power of Regina and Ma and the Witch; and you're floating, tight in Regina's hold, as the Witch and Ma fight to make it toward you through the smoke.

You try shifting but it's like moving through molasses, heavy and slow and dull, and your body hurts from the effort. "What do we do?" you call, loud enough that Regina can hear through the smoke.

She shakes her head, slow and unsteady. "Wait for the curse to take hold, I suppose. I don't know." She smiles down at you, eyes bright with tears. "I'm sorry. I never wanted you to be here, or for this to happen. I wanted you to be safe."

"I'm not sorry," you admit, because you can't regret saving Regina's life. Whatever price you'd paid is undone and the world as you'd known it might have vanished, but there's a part of you that's glad to have her holding you now. It feels familiar, like you can fold into her embrace as if you've done it a million times, and it's selfish and maybe horrible too, but you can't be sorry even suspended within this haze of green. "You can break the curse, can't you?"

Ma had told you how you'd done it together. A kiss. A kiss of true love. If that's all it takes… You manage to turn your head, watching Ma wade through the smoke like she's treading water, struggling to reach you.

"We won't remember," Regina says as quietly as she can and still be heard, following your gaze. "You won't remember each other. And without your memories, you might be drawn to her, but love…" She sighs, looking more forlorn than you've seen her in a long time, and she's caught Ma's gaze with her sad eyes as she speaks to you. "We'll be strangers to each other."

Ma says something but the curse is roaring around you and you can only see her mouth your name before she gives up, snapping something that's almost certainly not meant for your ears. "We were strangers," you point out, and your heart clenches in response. "That doesn't mean that I don't–!"

You stop, because Regina is frowning down at you like she doesn't know what you're going to say and you know that she'll reject it if you dare admit it. That she's still afraid of what you might mean to her, just like Ma insists. "It doesn't mean I don't love you," you shout out over the rumble of the curse, and you pull your head up high enough to kiss her on the cheek.

Multicolored light shudders out from where your lips touch Regina's skin, and the smoke is blown apart by the energy of your love before you can pull back from Regina–

No. Not Regina. The memories hit so hard that you stagger backward into the key table in the entryway of your childhood home, overcome. Not– You see it in flashes, Storybrooke and growing up and your storybook and Emma and magic and Neverland and Mom, MomMomMom and a thousand memories lost of hugs and kisses and sternness and tension and love, strongest of all, enough to transform her into a hero all for you. You're sobbing without realizing, crying and laughing and you can't even see anything through the tears except the dark-haired woman standing still a few feet away.

"Mom." You say it in the same tone as she'd said your name earlier, slowly and reverently, and you lurch forward back into her arms. "Mom?"

"Henry. Oh, Henry," she sighs like a prayer, and you want to stay there forever, choking out words that don't make sense into her shirt as she trembles in your arms and you both shake together in tandem.

A shriek of fury sounds behind you and you feel Mom tense beneath you. The Witch.

But it's Ma who whirls around from her place by the stairs- you're home, you're really home - the burn on her arm gone and her fists clenched again as the Witch advances, hands outstretched uselessly as her magic refuses to come forward. She's halfway through the entryway to the home you've grown up in (for more than a decade, until everything changed and Emma came and Pan's curse and now you have memories of a second home, an apartment full of light that's as magical in your memories now as anything else Mom has done) when your Ma rushes her, smirking. "Welcome to the land without magic," she says, and adds a rather non-maternal word that makes Mom growl, "Emma!" before her fist connects with the Witch's face again and the Witch drops to the ground.

Gramps is rushing through the front door before you and Mom can even think about standing up- and Mom is so close to you now, in your arms, and you don't ever want to let go again- and you can see his eyes move to you and Mom before he turns back to Ma. "Were we…?"

"Cursed?" She nods. "Yeah." And there's awe in her eyes when she looks at you and Mom, awe and a sad resignation you don't really understand. "Henry broke the curse."

Gramps's eyebrows shoot up as he takes you and Mom in and you dash a hand against your eyes, forcing the tears away in front of him. But his eyes soften in a moment and he nods to both of you, smiling. "Curse-breaking does run in the family." He glances down at the witch, no longer green-skinned but splayed out on the ground. "Should we lock her up at the station?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Keep an eye on her. We don't know when magic might come back and kick all our asses. Or anything about the side effects of coming back here after that curse, I guess." The air drifting in from outside the mayor's mansion is tinted green, the last aftereffects of Pan's original curse on Storybrooke.

You tune them out, turning back to your other mother, and you see that her eyes have never left you. "Henry," she whispers again, and she's still trembling and maybe you are too, finally exactly where you've needed to be for over a year and never known, never suspected, only dreamed of.

You remember old resentments, anger both legitimate and too emotional, and yet it all seems lost in the past now that you're here and you've been apart for so long. You've both struggled to find a balance in the other for so long but you'd never comprehended how empty your life is without Mom, how devastating it is to be so close and so distant; not until this moment where you're enveloped in her arms and it's a revelation at last, home in a place that's only existed in once indistinct memories.

You're still crying and she is too, tears bright against your faces as you press your foreheads together and you don't remember her being so small, or is it you who's grown? "I love you, Momma," you whimper, clinging to the childish name as you do your mom, pulling yourself closer as she kisses the top of your head and turns your hair wet with tears.

You sit together, trapped in a place where time doesn't matter and nothing has changed in thirteen years, lost in the familiar sensations of your mother's skin and scent and touch, and it's only once Mom shifts that you follow her gaze across the room to where Ma is leaning against a little table, eyes on you both and something uncomfortable and longing on her face.

You reach for her, an arm still wrapped around your adoptive mother. She's still your Ma, and maybe it hasn't been for most of your life but you chose her, you loved her and you wanted her and you still want her here now that your family has reached a certain kind of completion, and you watch the relief and hope that plays at her lips when you and Mom both raise your eyebrows at her in tandem.

And at once, Ma's arms are encircling you both as she drops to the floor beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as Mom leans back against her for support, and you all remain on the floor in an embrace, reunited as the family you'd never been before.

Your eyes wander back to the key table a few feet away, and you see the wallet-sized photograph of you still in its frame even after what it's borne witness to today. It's battered but undamaged, and you allow yourself a secret smile.