Chapter Text
“I have to take you home, kid. I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.” Emma stared at the two story house; through the window of her bug. Whoever had adopted Henry obviously had money.
“You have to promise me something first; you have to stay here, in Storybrooke, and let me prove that the curse is real. Please,” Henry begged. He still held the book on his lap, as tightly as Emma had ever held her blanket, though she’d never let anyone see that. She’d wanted a good life for him, and he looked like he had that. It didn’t make it easier to think about the life
“I’m staying the night, and that’s it. I have a life in Boston, and you have a life here.” A life without her, and that was too hard to stay and watch. Already it was going to be hard, knowing what he looked like, how he sounded like Neal when he begged. She’d go back to Boston and imagine this house, and Henry living inside of it. Or maybe not Boston; maybe it was time to move somewhere new. Winter was coming; maybe California was a good idea.
“A month,” he tried to bargain. When she shook her head he tried again. ”A week?”
“I’ll say good-bye before I leave tomorrow,” was all she promised.
Even as they got out of the car the front door was opening. Henry’s adoptive parents, Emma thought to herself. His real parents, she corrected mentally. She’d carried him for nine months and held him for a few minutes, but someone else had raised him for ten years.
“Henry, where have you been, son? I’ve been worried sick.” The man moved swiftly, despite the cane, and the moment he was close enough he had his hand on Henry’s shoulder. There was a second man, younger and taller, dressed in leather, following behind him. ”Anything could have happened to you.”
“I’ll be on my way then, Mr. Gold. Looks like I can rip up that missing person’s report.” Emma noticed a shield at the man’s waist as he walked past. The local law, apparently.
“Thank you, Sheriff. Fortunately I think a grounding is the worst thing that will happen tonight.” His mouth twisted into a frown, but Emma could see relief in the man’s eye as well. She also noticed both the face Henry made and the easy way the man and boy stood next to each other.
“But dad…”
“Inside, son. I’d like to at least be comfortable while you explain to me just why you tried to to give me a heart attack.” The man, Gold according to the sheriff, nudged Henry towards the door, not seeming to notice Emma.
“It was important. I had to find my birth mom.” He held onto his dad’s hand, the one not grasping the cane.
“Henry.” There was pain in the man’s eyes when he looked over his shoulder at Emma, though he hid it quickly.
“I found her, dad, and she’s going to fix everything.” Henry took a step towards her, reaching for her hand. ”This is my mom, Emma Swan. Emma, this is my dad. Everyone calls him Mr. Gold, except me.”
“Emma.” He almost tripped, his standing suddenly unsteady. She reached out instinctively to grab ahold of his arm, but he pulled away. ”I think you’d best come inside, Emma Swan.”
“I wouldn’t mind a drink.” Emma shrugged, following them up the steps and into the strangely pink house. She was used to apartments furnished in cast offs and Ikea, and the antiques spoke of far more prominence than she’d ever had. Some might call the place cluttered, but Emma liked the fact that it obviously couldn’t be packed up in a day. It was more home than she’d known, and that was exactly what she’d wanted for her kid. The walls were covered in photos, mostly of Henry, some alone and some with his dad or a few other people. “It’s a nice place.”
“Thank you.” He led them into a room that could only be called a parlor; living room was too normal and mundane a word.
“I’m starving. Can I order pizza? I haven’t had anything since lunch.” Henry rested his hand on the phone that looked like something from a movie set.
“You should be eating bread and water in your room, after that stunt Henry.” Gold shook his head, pausing as he picked up a glass decanter. “Your dinner is in the refrigerator. Don’t forget to close the microwave door after you’re done using it. You forgot last time.”
“I’ll remember.” Henry was almost to the door when he stopped and turned. “You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you Emma?”
“I’ll say goodbye before I leave.” It seemed enough of a promise to satisfy him; a moment later he was racing down the hall.
“I’m sorry for the trouble he caused you, Ms. Swan. It must have been quite the rude awakening, having him show up at your door today.” Gold held out a glass to her, something in a deep gold color. Honestly she didn’t care what it was; the burn when she swallowed was enough.
“Funny thing is, I made a wish on a birthday candle, a few minutes before he knocked on my door. I just wanted someone to share my cupcake with, and maybe say that they’re glad I was born.” She’d split the cupcake with Henry, before they’d left. She’d thrown the candle away, but wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not.
“I don’t have any cupcakes, but I assure you that I’m glad you were born. This place would be a great deal more empty, if not for you.” Gold’s hand rested on the book that Henry had left behind when he’d gone to eat his dinner. Emma wondered how much of his fantasy Henry had shared with his father.
“I should probably get going. It’s late, and I still have to find a place in town to stay for the night.” The man in front of her was Henry’s father. She’d given birth to him, but Gold was the one who knew his favorite foods, his nightmares, what color his room was, and what gifts he liked. She’d brought Henry home instead of putting him on a bus because he’d been so persistent, but mostly because she’d wanted the reassurance, ten years late, that she’d done the right thing. She had. Henry had the home and family she’d never had. He was safe and loved and well cared for, and that was good. She could leave now, and maybe sometimes she’d picture him here, living his life. Maybe she’d miss him, and grieve all over again. She’d done it before, and survived. “I told Henry I’d say goodbye, if it’s alright.”
“We have a spare bedroom.”
“What?” The offer surprised Emma so much that she blinked and stared at him.
“You drove across a state line to bring my son home, Ms. Swan. The least I can do is offer you a place to sleep. It will give you a chance, as well, to see what the lad’s home is like. I imagine if I had a son that I was not able to raise I would want to at least know that.” Emma could not read the expression on the man’s face. He’d make a good poker player, and was the kind of person that she’d hate to skiptrace. Most people projected clues about themselves that at least gave her a place to start. Other than a love of his son, and the obvious things like his limp, she couldn’t tell much about him.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.” She wasn’t sure she’d sleep at all, knowing that Henry was just down the hall. Then again, she probably wasn’t going to get much sleep no matter where she was.
“It’s no trouble at all. Henry will be delighted.” His smile was only a slight one, but felt genuine enough.
“What am I delighted about?” Henry used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away something red from the corner of his mouth as he reentered the library and plopped down on the arm of the couch.
“Use a napkin, Henry, unless you want to start doing your own laundry,” Gold scolded lightly. “Ms. Swan is going to stay here for the night, and perhaps she’ll join us at Granny’s for breakfast in the morning before you go to school.”
“Awesome. Thanks dad.” Henry was off the couch in seconds, throwing his arms around his dad’s waist, hugging him. There was something careful about it, though. The hug did not seem unwelcome; Emma figured it was more about being careful because of the cane.
“You’re welcome. Why don’t you show Ms. Swan to her room while I fetch the clean sheets. And son?”
“Yeah?” Henry asked.
“We’re not done talking about what you did today. It was dangerous and thoughtless, and we will be having a conversation about it.”
“I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t mean to worry you.” They hugged once more, father and son, before Henry led Emma up the stairs to the guest room.