This is an AU additional scene for 03x19 after Henry gets his memory back, but before they're at the graveyard. I needed some more Charming family. And I needed to procrastinate life. Hope you like.

Henry was talking so fast they could hardly follow him. He threw theories at them with a new enthusiasm that reminded them of the Henry they knew. Gone was the slightly moody, slightly suspicious teenager. Only his sometimes dark, sometimes high-pitched voice spoke of the time passed. Once in a while Mary Margaret glanced at Emma. The smile her daughter wore wasn't genuine; it was forced and looked painful. There was nothing she could do at the moment. Not while they were crammed into the car with Henry by their side. A happy Henry who seemingly didn't mind the break of his curse. Mary Margaret knew that Emma wanted what was best for him. After all, she wanted the same for Emma. She didn't know how long it would take her daughter to realize that the good memories came with the bad. And the real ones always outweighed the fake ones.

"I'm so hungry. Those flying monkeys! Mom, did you see them?" It was the first direct question in a while and it took Emma a moment to understand that the boy was talking to her.

"Yes. Yes, of course I did." She was distracted. Henry accepted this strangeness, this danger to his life in his stride. Like he always did. Emma should have known that. Just because she had tried to shield him from this didn't mean this wasn't where he belonged. In her mind, they both belonged in New York City, where the craziest thing they ever did was eat questionable take-out. Storybrooke was a complication, something that cut too deep. And it was too dangerous. Too unreal.

"Can we go eat something?" Henry asked feeling that his talking wore everything else out.

"I have some leftovers." Mary Margaret threw in quickly. She'd just gotten her grandson back and she wasn't ready to share him with even more people. She knew Regina would show up at their place and that was enough. Family. Henry should just be with his immediate family. And their home was untouchable to Zelena. They needed to take a breath and spend a moment away from all of this. Just to gather new energy.

"Awesome." Henry said. He was sitting close to his grandfather and immediately started talking his ear off again. David listened and nodded on occasion. Mary Margaret looked at her daughter unable to shake this feeling of loss. They just needed to take a breath, all of them, just for one moment. She told herself that it would solve all of their problems. She told herself that like a mantra.

Henry was still talking while they ate. Then he stopped suddenly, forcefully as if someone had forgotten to put money into a jukebox.

"What is it, Henry?" Emma asked. Her mind had been absent mostly, but she knew right when to snap back.

"My dad. I-I went to the funereal. I remember going there and I didn't- I didn't know." All the giddiness, all the innocent joy only a child can feel was swept away. Deep grief replaced the atmosphere. Emma took her son's hand in hers and was surprised how cold it was. Or her own hand was cold; she could no longer tell.

"Henry, he knew you loved him. He knew that. Remember what I told him? How he died a hero?" Carefully, the boy nodded.

"He just wanted you to be safe." Emma's voice broke. The wound would never close, not with Henry knowing. She'd lived in ignorant bliss and she wanted to go back. She didn't want to know. Her son's eyes, however, spoke a different story. He blinked a couple of times as if to get rid of the sadness alongside with the few tears.

"I want to see him. I mean I want to go to the- you know." Emma nodded. She didn't trust her voice or her emotions. Henry had a right to visit his father's grave. It all just seemed to happen too fast. She felt her parents' eyes on her and they felt like a heavy weight.

"Just eat up and then… then we'll go." Without any excuses or explanations Emma got up. Three pair of eyes followed her and for a moment Emma didn't know where to go. She stopped, not turning around. Finally she disappeared into the bathroom.

Henry watched as his grandparents exchanged looks. He, too, hadn't seen his mother like this in a while. But his memories weren't in their right places yet anyway. They were still assembling and he knew some of it had never happened. It was a strange sensation; like watching a movie that he'd starred in. When Mary Margaret absent-mindedly put her hand on her swollen stomach, a flash of a memory hit Henry. Emma, somewhat younger but just as lost, telling him about her foster parents. Her desperation when she told him how they gave her up when she was three years old. And then it hit him full force; her behavior suddenly made perfect sense. It was happening again. Here she was, abandoned with a fake happy life and him. Only to return here, to her real parents, and they were having another baby. Replacing her. His grandfather misunderstood his expression.

"Your mother will be fine. It's not easy for her either."

"Of course not." Sometimes Henry was shocked by the darkness of his voice. He still hadn't gotten used to it.

"Has she ever told you what happened with her foster parents?" Both his grandparents startled; they hadn't expected this change of direction. The way David ran his hand through his hair and the look of guilty curiosity told Henry all he needed to know.

"They gave her up when she was three. Because they were having a new baby." Mary Margaret gasped. Not because of the story; she seemed to have known about that. Henry wondered how she couldn't have seen the obvious before.

"She thinks we're replacing her." David said. It had been his fear all along. Right from the beginning. Emma's face in the Echo Caves had warned him, but he'd forgotten. He'd denied himself to think about it. And then it had haunted him – even in his dreams. He stared at the closed bathroom door. All he wanted was to turn back the time (and he tried not to think of Zelena and her sick, sick plan at that moment) and be there for her. Be the father he'd been supposed to be. The father he wanted to be now, for this child. A longing filled him. How could he love this child when his daughter, his firstborn, thought he was replacing her?

"But… we're not!" Mary Margaret whispered angrily. She, too, looked at the closed bathroom door. Henry realized what he'd done; this wasn't his story. And it hadn't been his secret to reveal. Lately, he felt the need to push harder. He was braver. He refused to believe it had anything to do with the curse and his fake life. Someone had to look out for his mother; even if she would have downright refused it. And for the last year that had been him. Walsh had been there, too, but it was Henry who'd been her constant.

Being a child still, he didn't have any answers now. He tried to come up with something – really, anything – to say to them. Maybe even take it back. But there was no way he could undo this. The bathroom door squeaked slightly and Emma returned. She immediately felt the change of atmosphere.

"I'm fine." She said automatically, just as a precaution. Mary Margaret's sad smile was an indicator that she didn't believe her. But to Emma nothing was more important now than taking her son to see his father's grave. Everything else would have to wait. At least for the moment.

"Come on, Henry. Let's go." The boy jumped up quickly, obviously glad to get away from the table. Emma wondered briefly what had happened between them.

"We're coming with you." David said, getting up. Emma held up her hand. This wasn't about them. This was about her and Henry – and Neal. Their own little screwed-up family. Emma knew that in a way they were tangled up there as well and not just because they were her parents. She just knew she needed to do this alone with Henry.

"I think it would be better if we went alone." With every word and every action she tried to untangle herself from them. In the end it would be easier. As soon as the latest threat was gone, she and Henry would be as well. Life awaited them in New York. There were so many reasons why they had to leave. Emma had hardly had time to process all of them. Just every time she saw her mother's pregnant stomach, she felt the need to leave. To run away before she could be pushed away.

"We'll stay in the back. I don't want you out there alone with Zelena and her… monkeys." Emma tried not to smile at her father's words. He was so serious and this was the wrong moment to make light of the situation. But as she lifted her eyes she saw an amused gleam in his eyes as well. Along with parental determination that she'd come to know from him.

"All right." She looked at Mary Margaret and offered her a hand. Her mother smiled thankfully. As she got up, Emma thought she saw the baby kick. And it kicked right into her heart and soul. It should have been her, Emma thought. She should have been raised by them. She should have gotten to know all of the things the baby would have. Her little sibling, who would be an aunt or an uncle to Henry. The thought was absurd. Then again, their whole family tree was such a mess. Another bend branch wouldn't make a difference. And she was happy for them. She knew that her parents had been deprived of something as well. All the memories, albeit fake, she now had of Henry and herself. She knew now, at least she felt like she knew, what it was like having raised a child. They should get to do it, because they deserved to. She just wished… she just wished.

"I'm ready." Henry announced. Emma let Mary Margaret's hand fall and ushered her son outside. She knew her parents would follow her. Behind her she didn't see them exchange a look. Without saying a word, they both realized how close they were to losing her – again. And not because of a curse. Not because of an Evil Queen or a Wicked Witch. The fight they were facing was different, the stakes, however, just as high.

THE END