Boston, 2011

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The boy looked up at her, a wondering look on his face.

She looked back at him for a moment longer and then yelled, "Emma! It's for you."

She heard footsteps behind her and then Emma appeared on the doorway, a slight frown on her face which only deepened when she saw the kid.

The boy turned to her with a smile on his face. A very familiar smile.

Fucking hell, she thought. She felt as though she was transported back to that village, all those years ago, when she met him for the first time.

"Um, can I help you?" she said.

"Are you Emma Swan?" he asked, even though he clearly knew the answer already.

Something in him, his smile, his voice, his eyes, something must've tipped her off as to who this kid was because Amy could see the way her friend's eyes roamed over him, guarded and suspicious and pained.

"Yeah. Who are you?"

The boy smiled once again, that goddamn smile, and turned their whole world upside down with just a few simple words.

"My name's Henry. I'm your son."

Henry.

Amy's brain screamed at her, telling her that with the luck she's got, this could only mean one thing...

Fucking hell.

This was going to be a very long night.

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Enchanted Forest, approximately forty years ago

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"I interrupted my hunt for whatever shit idea you've come up with, again. This better be worth it, Rumple," she said as she took a seat near the man.

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, waving his arms as if he was trying to swat an annoying bug away. "But you're going to like this one. Very much, if I do say so myself."

He giggled like he knew something she didn't.

The bastard probably did.

She sighed, tired of his shit. She started making some tea, which always helped her relax, especially when she had to deal with him.

"So, why'd you call me here?"

He took some moments to answer, busy with whatever potion he was making.

"The Queen has passed away. She was defeated by a terrible, terrible illness, you see."

She froze, the cup almost slipping from her fingers.

She made some quick mental calculations.

Rumple would never have called her for something as trivial as Queen Ava's death.

Unless, of course, it wasn't just a terrible, terrible illness that killed her.

"That still doesn't explain why you called me here," she asked, feeling a bit nervous to know his answer.

And with good reason, too. His ideas always ended badly.

He turned to her, his signature smirk plastered on his face, and said, "I called you here, my dear knight, because a mutual friend of ours has some plans on the making."

He paused, stepping closer to her, and he continued, "Plans I want to destroy."

It was obvious what mutual friend he was referring to.

You see, there were only three people that could be referred to as their...mutual friend, and only one of them was ambitious, powerful and unstable enough to do something as reckless as killing the Queen.

Besides, Zelena was unable to do anything from Oz, and last time she checked he was still in-

"She killed the Queen?" she asked, not wanting to think about him. Like, ever again.

His smirk grew.

"That she did," he said. "But that's not what's important."

He looked positively delighted, as if they were discussing the fine weather and not the death of an innocent woman at the hands of a psychotic bitch.

"You see, Cora has a daughter who she loves very much," he said.

She simply raised a brow in response.

He made a noise of annoyance at her.

"Not that one, of course. The other one."

"Lord Henry's daughter?"

While she'd been thoroughly acquainted with Cora's first daughter, she'd never met the younger one.

Amelia pitied that poor girl.

"That one." he said, a devious glint in his eyes. "You see, Cora always wanted to make her precious little daughter the queen."

She sighed, already knowing where this was going.

"And with Ava now gone, she can enact whatever awful plan she has on her mind."

"Exactly."

"So what is it you want from me?"

She wasn't sure if she actually wanted to know.

"Regina, her daughter, has shown signs of magic already, but Cora refuses to teach her anything, afraid she'll be better than her."

"And? she asked, unable to hide the annoyance on her voice.

She was either getting more impatient or he was getting more irritating.

"She's taken extra precautions against me, so I can't get near enough to teach her anything and, after the green fiasco, it might be better if I don't become involved much."

He paused, considering his next words and the possible reactions these words might extract from her.

"So I want you to teach her."

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Boston, 2011

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Silence.

She hated the silence.

She used to love it, the peace and the calm of it, once upon a time.

But that was before.

Now all she could do was stare at Emma from the corner of her eye, ready for an explosion or something that would inevitably break this awful silence.

"I don't...I don't have a son," she finally said, clearly denying whatever this was.

Can't really blame her.

"Ten years ago," he said as he entered the apartment, "did you give up a baby for adoption?"

The look on her face was enough answer.

Amy looked away, not being able to handle...this.

"That was me." he said.

Emma looked at her, and the look on her friend's face made Amy's heart break.

It wasn't supposed to be like that.

"Give me a minute," she said before turning around and heading for the bathroom.

Amy closed her eyes, feeling a headache forming, and cursed Rumple, even though he wasn't there and she hadn't seen him in almost thirty years.

Blaming him for everything bad that happened, even if it had nothing to do with him, was part of her daily routine for the past two centuries or so.

But then again, almost every bad thing in her life was his fault, one way or another.

This definitely was.

She opened her eyes, turning to face Henry, and saw him already looking at her with the same wondering look on his face as before.

"You want some juice?" she offered.

He nodded, still looking at her suspiciously, and she went to get him some before she remembered something, and out of curiosity she asked, "Are you allergic to pineapples?"

"Yes." His eyes narrowed before he slowly said, "How did you know that?"

She looked him in the eyes, those eyes he'd inherited from his father, and simply shrugged.

"Just a guess." she answered and poured him some milk instead. "Sorry, we only got pineapple juice."

It was obvious he did not think for a second that it was just a lucky guess, but he took the glass nonetheless. Just then Emma came back.

"You know, we should probably get going," he said.

Shit.

"Going where?" Emma asked.

"I want you to come home with me."

Emma stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. "Okay, kid, I'm calling the cops."

She reached for the phone.

"Maybe we sh-"

"Then I'll tell them you kidnapped me," Amy was cut off by Henry, who apparently had inherited his mother's negotiation skills.

She let out a little laugh and Emma glared at her before turning back to the little devil. "And they'll believe you because I'm your birth mother."

"Yup."

She was starting to like this kid.

"You're not gonna do that."

"I don't think he's joking." she whispered to Emma.

"Try me," he said.

Her eyes narrowed a little, a small smirk plastered on her face.

Oh, Amy knew that face all too well.

It was the face of someone who knew they'd win.

"You're pretty good. But here's the thing; there's not a lot I'm great at in life, but I have one skill. Let's call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying, and you kid are." she said, pressing the dial.

"Wait. Please don't call the cops. Please! Come home with me."

Emma considered him for a moment, glancing at Amy who just shrugged, and asked, "Where's home?"

"Storybrooke, Maine."

Oh, so that's what Woody meant when he said 'weird name'.

Emma clearly didn't believe him. "Storybrooke? Seriously?"

Amy cleared her throat a bit too loudly, attracting their attention. "It's, uh...It's an actual town. I've..." she laughed at the absurdity of her next words, "I've got some friends there."

"You do?" they said at the same time, both shocked at her statement, but for different reasons.

"Well, not friends technically." she said. "More like...acquaintances."

Lies.

There were people in that town who definitely didn't classify as just acquaintances.

Especially her.

"Who are you?" Henry asked her, a surprised expression on his face.

"I'm Amy," she said simply.

"Alright then," Emma said, ignoring their exchange and looking at her as if she'd grown two heads. She turned to Henry, "Let's get you back to Storybrooke."

Amy wasn't sure it was such a good plan, but what could she do?

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