A/N: Let me know how you are enjoying the story, I'd love to hear some feedback. Enjoy!

She spends the next few days pouring over the details of her life. Spending more time in Regina's room than in her own. She pours through the books on her shelves, desperate to piece together her interests, her likes, her dislikes, to learn anything about this woman and the life she once lived. At first it all started out like a mystery, a curiosity to discover how she knew her and unwind this thread between them. Then somehow something bloomed in Emma, like a flower planted long ago but only now yielding its blossom. It's ridiculous honestly, she thinks, that she could feel herself developing feelings for this woman. A woman who she will never have the chance to meet again. Falling in love with her felt like falling in love with the stars; ever in sight but ever out of touch. Yes, this was far worse than unrequited love.

Henry seems to notice the change in her too as he stops by and asks how things are are going, a box of donuts and coffee in his hands.

"Good. I mean, I don't really know what I'm looking for exactly." She says opening the door wider and shoving a donut in her mouth and taking the coffee. "Except for maybe answers but it seems the only person who could answer my questions is gone." She says, sounding almost defeated, her eyes slightly downcast.

Henry nods, laying the box down on the table before walking past her towards the bookcase. He lets his fingers run over the remaining books and eyes one nestled in the corner, "Do you like science books?"

Emma looks up from what she is reading, her brows furrowing, "What?"

He smiles at her and repeats it again slowly as if she didn't understand, "I said, do you like science books?"

Her head cocks to the side a bit, "I heard you the first time it just didn't make any sense."

He smiles at her as he pulls a hardcover from the bookcase, one of the remaining books Emma had yet to rip off the shelf and go through. "I think you'll like this one." He hands the book over to her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The book is a blue hardcover adorned with images of constellations, stars, and galaxies. It reads, The Theory of Time Travel and Alternate Realities in gold writing. "Was Regina reading this?" Emma says as she reads the cover of the book, her fingers running lightly against the book's uncut pages.

Henry nods, "It was one of her favorites. It was all she could talk about once it was published." He says pointing to the bookmarker.

Emma touches the book, letting her fingers rub over the title's raised words and looking low to find the author's name written in a similar fashion. Inside she flips through the pages to find notes scrawled in the margins, arrows and annotations cover the pages written in Regina's unmistakeable script. She continues flips through the pages and opens to find a note written on the inside cover.

Dearest Regina,

I hope this book gives you the answers you're searching for and the happiness that you seek. Good luck.

-Your Friend,

Belle French

Emma reads the note carefully, a thought turning in her head, "But why would she be reading something like this?"

Henry averts his gaze, something he does when he's about to lie, "I'm not sure but," He says perking up, "I do know where to find someone who does."

...

It takes Emma less than ten minutes to drive over to the Storybrooke Library, the safe haven for this Belle French. Emma drives through the town noticing all of the local shops, cafes, and even clock tower she missed when she arrived late the days prior. She parks her yellow bug in front of the steps of the library as she gets out and walks towards the doors.

"Hello." A woman greets as Emma walks through the doors, "Is there anything I can help you with?" The woman is small and petite with long brown hair and sharp blue eyes. She reminds her of a pixie of some sort, seemingly innocent on the outside but Emma can see a passion in the woman's eye and she speaks with an accent. Australian maybe? Emma thinks as she listens to the woman.

"Yeah. I was actually looking for the author of a book. Belle French."

The woman smiles brightly, her eyes the color of the lake, "Well you came to the right place. That's me. How can I assist you?"

Emma pulls out the book from her bag, "I was hoping you could tell me about what I read in here."

The smile on the woman's face is gone as she looks at the book then back at Emma, her eyes wide with curiosity, "Where did you get this?" She asks taking the book, "This is my first edition published nearly a decade ago, only very few people have a copy." She flips through the pages, "This belonged to-"

"Regina. I know." Emma says, it seems all the questions she has these days are about Regina and only Regina herself can answer them.

The woman gapes at Emma, studying her closely, "How did you get it? Did she give it to you before-" The woman stops, a look of sadness crosses her face and she takes a breath as if unable to mutter the word, "you know."

"Well," Emma says, searching for an explanation and failing to come up with one. How could she explain to someone this sort of obsession she had developed? Her eagerness to learn everything she can about the woman who seemingly trusted her with her most precious possessions. Could she verbalize how she felt to see the look of desperation and hope that crossed the woman's face and would there even be a word to describe it? Regina's voice still rings in her ears, the plea echoing in her head, come back to me. Like a mantra that Emma repeats over and over, finding new meanings and hidden messages in the waves of the woman's voice. "Not quite."

Belle studies Emma a moment longer, her eyes sweeping over every inch of the blonde and landing on the locket. Then in a moment a light flashes behind her blue eyes and she smiles in a sort of realization and discovery. "Well Emma, it's been a long time since someone has asked me a question on this book." Belle says, eyeing the blonde, her brow arched in question. Emma smiles innocently, trying her best to appear puppy-like but failing miserably.

"Come." Belle says, waving her hand for her to follow, "Let's go have a talk." She follows the woman into what appears to be a study. The room is covered wall to wall with collections of books and in the middle of the room stands a desk with chairs. "Please sit," Belle says as she gestures towards the seat. "And tell me what exactly would you like to know."

"Okay," Emma starts slowly, "Hear me out. I know I sound crazy and I know that it's completely ridiculous and damn impossible but ever since I picked up this book, I haven't been able to get the question out of my head. Please, just tell me honestly, is time travel real?" The woman looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face as Emma continues to speak, "I mean I went through your book and it spoke about so many things I didn't understand plus some words I didn't even know existed and I just wanted to know if it is possible. Could a person be here one moment then gone the next? How do we reach these different periods of time? Can we-"

"Well," Belle says, interrupting the blonde. "It seems like you've thought a lot about this."

Emma's face turns red and she rubs the back of her neck, "Ah, I guess so. The question just seemed to stick to me and once it did, I couldn't get it out."

"I'm surprised Regina never spoke to you about any of this. This topic was all she could talk about once my book was published. She never said anything to you?" She asks skeptically.

"It seems my interest came a bit late to ask her anything." Emma says, a look of sadness washing over her face.

"Hm, perhaps." The woman says lightly, a smile tugging at her lips, "And to answer your question yes and no. Time travel is real but only in theory, and the theory is just that, a theory. We don't know if the theory is correct and it is incredibly hard to test as one could imagine."

"And if it was, if it was possible how could a person do it?" Emma says leaning in closer to the woman, waiting expectantly before adding, "In theory of course."

"It is in my opinion that time travel would be possible but would also be extremely hard to do. It requires hours of concentration, focus, stamina, and would push your mind beyond its limits. Be warned that if done correctly there may only be one chance to be successful. That the opportunity is only available once in a person's lifetime." She looks carefully at her, "What makes you want to learn about it?"

Emma turns beet red again, her fingers fidgeting nervously around her locket. Belle follows her movements, eyeing the locket before her eyes snap back up to meet pale green ones. "Never mind." Belle says and she takes a deep breath, "I don't need to know, your business is your own but answer me honestly, would you be willing to give up everything you know to attempt this? All your friends and loved ones, those who care about you and who will never get a chance to see again or say goodbye. Could you give up your life in the present for the even the smallest possibility to find what you are searching for in the past?"

Emma sits there a moment, letting all the information sink in. She knew that if she were to do this and be successful that she would be letting go of everything she had ever worked for. Her job, her life, her friends, everything that she had fought tooth and nail for she would have to be willing to leave behind. The thought of this scared her a little, the idea that she would never again be able to hear her best friend's laugh, or see Henry's knowing smile. The memories of them surround her like the arms of a loved one, filling her to the brim with joy.

Then, just as quickly, the memories morph into those of that night filled with harsh yellow lights, the whispers of strangers, and the crisp Boston air against her skin. The locket suddenly feels heavy against her chest, pushing down on her with all the weight of the emotions it carries inside. The portrait flashes behind her eyes, the feeling of awe when she first saw her face pricks at her skin. The music box plays in her ears, its melody which now means more to her than she ever thought was possible. All the thoughts in her head form into this uncontrollable cyclone with hopes of what could be. Her imagination is running rampant, she can feel the touch Regina's hand upon her arm already and suddenly her heart feels so light and so full, the storm in her mind dissipating to reveal the rising sun. She takes a deep breath, she knows what she must do. "Yes."

Belle looks at her with a satisfied grin on her face, "Alright, here's what you should do."

After explaining what needed to be done and where to get all of the supplies needed, she kindly thanked Belle for her time as they walked towards the entrance of the library. Emma beamed as she had all the information she need to run with an idea that was frankly, insane but theoretically possible, and that gave her some sort of hope. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this has helped me."

"It was no problem at all. I've been waiting a long time for someone to ask me the questions you did, I am just happy I could be of some help." The woman responds with a bright smile on her face.

Emma turns to walk out of the library before turning back quickly to face Belle. "Before I go, could I ask you one last question?" Belle nods politely, urging the blonde to ask. "Have you ever traveled in time?"

Belle looks away for a moment before turning back towards her and giving her a sad smile. "Once. Or so I thought, even now I can't be sure that it wasn't all just a dream but it felt very real." Belle says, her eyes threatening to betray her, "Believing it was real is what gave and cost me everything, so please Emma be careful." The woman's eyes are pleading and she looks earnest in her warning. Emma gives the woman a tight smile before thanking her once more walking out of the library and into the chilly Maine air, never noticing that she never told the woman her name.

It takes Emma less than half the day, thanks to Henry, to conjure up all the supplies needed. She contemplates telling him what all the items are really for but settles on telling him its for a little pet project of hers, something to do with a new play that she is writing. He was more than happy to help Emma get everything she needed and she felt bad that she couldn't tell him the truth but it's better this way, she thinks.

She visits the local coin shop and buys out all the money she could that would be useful for 1955. The man looked at her strangely before she pulled out a wad of cash for which he was much more willing to help her find what she needed. She talks the local theatre group into letting her borrow some of their costumes from around that time, thanking them and promising to return them soon. She clears out all of the modern accessories from her hotel room, leaving nothing else except for the bed, dresser, and one chair. She slips on the outfit, perfect for the fifties with a squared shouldered coat and hip hugging skirt and even adds a touch of color on her lips. She lays all her money on the bed, separating the currency from now and then, slipping all modern money into the pocket of her leather jacket that hangs in her closet along with all other items that might remind her of where she comes from. All except her locket which remains safe around the woman's neck.

She crawls onto the bed, laying there and remembering the instructions she was given, Make yourself believe that you are already there, is what Belle had told her. To think about what she would be hearing, seeing, or smelling right now in this exact moment, that whatever that was to hold onto it and believe that it is happening with every fiber of her being.

Light is trickling in through the curtains and I can feel the warmth of sun on my face. The birds are chirping outside and I can hear the laughter of children below and the shuffling of steps outside my door. I can smell the aroma of coffee from the restaurant below, it's strong and potent. I can feel my limbs slide across the satin sheets their warmth radiating across my body. I am here, at the Grand Storybrooke Hotel in the summer of the year nineteen fifty-five. I am here.

Emma repeats this over and over and over again, letting it burrow itself into her mind and burn across her skin. Emma can feel the words as they are repeated again and again. The feeling of light on her face as the sunbeams dances across her skin, leaving their starburst kisses. The melody of life from just outside her door: the birds, the children, the footsteps. As if life itself created its own orchestra. The smooth richness of the coffee wafts into the room from below the crack in the door. It fills the air and reminds her of an far away and foreign cafe across the ocean. The satin below her crinkles and smooths as it moves with her body. It leaves its feather like touches across her skin like the movements of a delicate lover. She repeats the year that has suddenly become so significant to her. The year slides off of her tongue like velvet, nineteen fifty five.

She repeats this again and again until her whole world fades to black.

She opens her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light in the room. She stretches as she rises from the bed and straightens out her clothes. Her lipstick is intact but her hair is a mess as she lets her blonde hair hang her sides. Did I do it? She thinks as she walks around the room. Everything looks the same as she left it and she doesn't feel any different, maybe it worked?

Suddenly her cell phone rings from her jacket pocket and with a groan she rises and swings open the closet door to see Ruby's icon pop on the screen. She hits ignores and types a half ass excuse about being absolutely exhausted before curling back up in the bed letting her disappointment burrow inside her. She stays like this with her knees tucked into her chest and mind so chaotic that it feels nearly calm and she closes her eyes and dreams about a beautiful woman.

She tries again the next day and the day after that and the one after that, each day yielding the same result. Each morning she would wake up drenched in sweat, her mind exhausted and with so much fatigue it was hard to get up. Each day it would serve a reminder that she was one more day in the present and not in the past, not where she wanted to be. It felt like a failure and all those voices inside of her which she had been able to silence, to control, now resurfaced with a new vengeance. She was a failure, worthless, not good enough, never going to be good enough, a pretty blonde distraction and nothing more.

Henry had started to worry about her as he stopped by frequently and make sure she ate something and provide some sort of human interaction as she stayed isolated from everyone. She couldn't describe how terrible she felt to see the lines of concern cut into the man's face, his brows knitted in worry and his eyes glassy.

"Emma," He says softly, "How can I help you? Tell me what you need please. Anything and I'll get it for you."

She had saw the compassion in his eyes and she wanted desperately to tell him everything. That this was not all for a play or a pet project of hers, that this was her life. That she had fallen so in love with a woman that she was willing to sacrifice her present if only for a chance to meet her once again. But all of this died on her tongue as she shook her head and said she needed nothing but that she was appreciative.

Henry looks at her with a sad resignation in his eyes before turning back towards the door. He stops to glance back, his hand on the knob, before saying, I believe in you Emma, I believe in you." The words leave his lips so breathlessly as if telling a simple and undeniable truth. Beyond Ruby, no one else had ever believed in her like this. People heard her story and expected her to fail, to not be as good as the others. Many times she tried to fight back and show the world who she was but these thoughts were always there. She would push and push against them some days were easier, others harder. But standing here now, looking into his eyes that shine with so much emotion, an unmistakable devotion, seem somehow to cut through her self wallowing and strike her at her core.

As if awaking from a trance Emma steeled herself and became more determined than ever to meet (again) the woman she loves. Closing her eyes she whispers the words again and again, each letter tattooing itself on her mind and soul. She repeats them for what feels like hours when suddenly she drones out her own voice and hears nothing at all.

Emma wakes the next morning to a soft knock at the door. "Hello, is anyone in there?" The voice says. She slowly opens her eyes, looking around the room which still remained untouched and the disappointment crashes over her once again. She rises from her bed and walks towards the door, failing to notice the sun that beams through the cracks in the curtains and the birds chirping outside. Emma doesn't remember ordering room service but maybe Henry has come to check on her again. She cracks the door open to peer outside. "Hello?" She asks tentatively.

A young maid stands in front of her, she can't be more than eighteen at the most she thinks as the maid stands there with her hands nervously at her sides. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Emma, "I'm so sorry Miss. I've just come to change the sheets." She says, her eyes downcast, "I didn't mean to disturb you, I apologize. I was told this room was vacant."

Emma smiles back at the maid, "Oh, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I was just on my way out actually." She says as she grabs her leather- No, thick wool coat. Really is this what they wore in the fifties? She should probably change out the clothes and return it to the theater but she hasn't the energy right now so she will have to bear with the outfit. "Have you seen Henry?" She asks as she walks out.

The maid furrows her brows and looks at her with a questioning look. "You know, Henry." Emma repeats, "tousled brown hair, bright eyes." She teases but the maids eyes brighten with understanding.

"Oh, Henry!" The maid says, "Of course, he's downstairs with his parents I believe."

"With his parents?" Emma looks at the girl strangely. Henry had to be in his late seventies at most which means his parents had to be in their nineties or hundreds at least. Which is odd because most people don't have their parents live that long nevertheless both of them. Then suddenly a thought hits her like a lightning rod. Emma's eyes go wide and she can feel panic and anticipation course through her body. Her heart beats fast in her chest. "Um, silly question but what's today's date?"

"July twenty-eighth nineteen fifty five."

"Nineteen fifty five..." Emma repeats slowly as if not completely comprehending what the maid had said. It takes her a moment to compose herself before she plasters on one of her infamous smiles and gives the maid a look which reads 'I'm fine' though she doubts she will believe it. Emma's not sure she believe it either since she now in nineteen fifty fucking five! She can't believe she made it. Happiness and anxiety run rampant in her body and she's not sure she won't just implode the moment she sees her. Regina.

Emma hugs the maid in an outburst of emotion and the maid equally as confused as to what is happening hugs her back. "Thank you -" she looks down to read the girl's name tag, "Eugenia, really thank you!" She says as she gives the maid one more squeeze before fleeing. The maid stands there, still frozen in Emma's downway, her eyes trailing the blonde woman as she runs down the hall.