"Em–"

She jumped back when he took a step forward, ripping her arm away from his grasp. "No, god, how? How do you do it? We both had asshole parents. Why the hell did I get the short end of the stick? Is it 'cause I'm a girl?"

"Ems–"

"I said don't call me that!" She shrieked, stamping her foot as she held her ground, but Neal pushed forward, holding her arms still as he wrestled her stiff body to sit back down on her bed.

She resisted and tried to yank herself free, but his strength overpowered hers and soon all the tension left her body and his arms were wrapped around her in a hug, her cheek pressed against his chest as she sobbed dry tears.

"Emma," he amended quietly a long minute later when her breath stopped hitching and she was able to breathe out of her nose.

"I'm tired," she whispered hoarsely, pulling back from his chest and averting her gaze. She wouldn't allow another show to her vulnerability if she could help it, but Neal kept a comforting hand on her shoulder that was too much to resist before finally turning to look into the puppy dog face of the older man. "I'm so tired," she said again, more desperate than the last as she sniffled.

"We're gonna go home soon," he comforted, gently urging her head to rest on his good shoulder.

"I don't know where that is."

"Maine," he provided easily for her, but Emma sniffed and shook her head.

"I don't think she wants to see me again," she admitted quietly.

"I picked up on that," Neal said. "But what did she say?"

"She got mad that I got hurt."

Neal let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, your loved ones will do that."

"She's not–"

"She is," he reassured. "That just means that they care about you. They're mad they almost lost you."

Emma bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't think that's what she meant."

"What did she mean then?"

"She said she couldn't deal with me. She's tired of worrying about me. She's really only supposed to be my penpal. It's not like she's obligated to do anything by me."

Neal shook his head again and nudged Emma's shoulder for her to look up. "I'm not gonna say anything or promise anything, but if this lady is who you've been dreaming about for years and whose kid you adore, then I think she's just as scared as you are. She might be tired of worrying about you, but she's always gonna want to worry about you than mourn you."

Emma was beginning to shake her head again when Neal smacked her upside the head. "Ow," she groaned, rubbing the back of her head with a glare.

"You may have confidence with a gun, but you're gonna need more confidence here." He pointed to her heart and nodded affirmatively before standing and rustling up her already messy hair. "Don't forget the bigger picture."

"And what's that?" Emma turned on the cot as he reached the entrance of the tent.

"Go home alive."


December 14, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

"Mommy, too tight." Henry squirmed as he sat on the bench in a locker room as Regina knelt in front of him and tightened up the Velcro on his learner ice skates.

"I'm sorry, dear." She loosened the Velcro and adjusted his boots again before strapping on his skates properly, focusing on her son and his field trip to the Storybrooke Recreation Centre where Tina had organized an ice skating session for the toddlers. When she finished adjusting the blade, she gave his knee a pat. "Better?"

He nodded and tugged on the ends of his winter jacket. "It's hot."

"But you'll be going on the rink soon."

"But ev'body else isn't wearing it," he pointed out petulantly.

Sure enough, Henry was the only child completely decked out in winter wear for the indoor rink. Pink princess jackets and red and black power rangers jackets were left hanging on hooks as the children wore their snow pants and sweaters. Regina frowned. "I don't want you to get sick, dear."

"I won't," he promised, crossing his heart.

Sighing, she nodded and moved to unzip his jacket, helping his arms free until he was in his knitted sweater and suspended snow pants. He grinned happily and scooted his way off the bench before tugging Regina's hand down in his stead. "Your turn."

She shook her head affectionately before taking a seat and quickly lacing up her old pair of ice skates.

"We're late, Mommy," Henry urged, tugging on her arm. She gave him a rueful look but couldn't scold his excitement despite the fact that they were the first few to finish up.

Cradling Henry in a baby pose after a few unsuccessful wobbles on his bladed boots, Regina walked gracefully in her own guarded skates as she made her way to the small rink booked for the class. Tina, already on the ice and skating backwards at flying speeds, waved to the few students ready to get on the ice before slowing down and hopping off the rink.

"Woah," Henry awed up at his teacher before looking up to his mother. "Can you do that?"

"Not unless I want a broken leg." She set him down on the rubber ground and took his hand to help him steady before nodding at the teacher. "Why do I get the feeling you encouraged all the parents to come out so you didn't have to watch any children as you skated at a discounted rate?"

"I'll have you know that parental bonding is a key step in child development," Tina said pointedly ushering a couple students and their moms and dads out onto the rink before putting her skate guards back on to check on the other students.

Regina stepped onto the freshly zambonied ice and offered her hand to Henry. "Would you like a pylon, dear?"

The boy stuck his tongue out between his teeth as he tested the slipperiness of the ice with a little pressure from his foot, but that was all he needed to instantly lose his balance and slip haphazardly on the ice, grasping onto Regina's arm and leg for dear life.

"Woah, woah, wooaah!" He flailed, gripping Regina just as she held him under his arms to his feet.

"I think you need that pylon now." Regina motioned to the other children slipping and sliding gracelessly as they held onto the top of a pylon the size as they were.

"No," he said determinedly. "I can do it by myself."

She smiled fondly and moved in front of him, crouching low and holding the very tips of his fingers as he took the tiniest baby steps forward.

"Good job, Henry," Tina called as she skated by them, making her rounds to all the students who had finally made it out of the change room and onto the ice.

He was distracted momentarily by his teacher's praise to grin happily and wave. The sudden movement of his arm made his balance falter, and suddenly he was flailing all over again and fell to the ice with a hard thump. It was the shock more than the impact that made his bottom lip jut out and his eyes water.

"Henry!" Regina gasped and quickly knelt to the ground, struggling to lift Henry up to his feet while simultaneously attempting to keep balance.

His lip quivered and his cheeks reddened, and Regina knew what was coming next.

Like a clockwork his mouth opened and a loud wail erupted from the small boy. Tears streamed down his face as he helped Regina lift him by scurrying into her arms. Regina pulled him easily into her arms, but when she stood, walking on skates while holding a bawling three-year old was like running a marathon on ice. She was the sole person going the opposite way as the class of ten and their parents skated clumsily around the rink. She barely remembered to apologized as she kept to the barrier attempting to avoid them and finally made her way to the bleachers.

Henry was still crying as he nursed his wrist. Regina sat him down and took his hands in hers, checking frantically over his body. "Sweetheart, what hurts?"

He pointed to his hand that was reddened by the fall, and Regina cursed herself for not making sure he had worn his gloves and mittens.

"Do you want to go home?"

He shook his head as his whimpers died down, sniffling once before wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Are you sure? We can sit down for a minute."

He shook his head more insistently this time, hurrying to wipe his eyes as if to prove he was still capable of skating though they still kept watering and his bottom lip was still pouting.

"Henry, I know you're a big boy–"

"I can do it," he said leaving no room for argument. There was no doubt who his mother was in that instant, and the twinge of pride bursting in Regina's chest couldn't be helped.

Frowning for a moment, Regina nodded and helped him to his feet. He held her hand tightly as they approached the rink once more, but this time he held on to the divider wall as he inched his way onto the ice. Most of his classmates had taken up the pylons with a few already expert skaters holding their parent's hand easily as they went around the rink. A couple were sliding along the ice on their knees, keeping to the middle of the rink to avoid anyone's path while Henry stumbled along the wall.

"There you go," Regina encouraged as he passed millimeter after millimeter.

He slipped and fell to his knee but refused Regina's help when she reached down to lift him. Instead, he used the wall as a crutch to lift himself upright, grinning proudly up at his mother when he didn't go stumbling to the ground. Regina moved in front of him, a foot away as she held out her hands to encourage him forward. The sudden image of teaching her nine-month old how to walk came to the forefront of her mind, and she grinned realizing that this was exactly like that. It amazed her how seemingly insignificant moments continued to be her fondest memories.