PART I

CHAPTER I

Henry Mills stared at his bedroom wall. Half-heartedly, he scrubbed at the dried tear tracks on his face. Archie was gone. Archie was gone, and his mother had killed him. Those two thoughts had chased each around in head for the last few hours. He took a deep, shaky breath to try and calm himself in order to make some sense of his emotions. He felt stuck somewhere between numbness and being unable to breath from the pain. Emma, Mary Margaret and David had done their best, but...

A sob hitched in his throat. He wanted his mother. He curled into a ball, a high pitched whine escaping his throat. He wanted his mom. He wanted her to be here so badly the pain and longing became unbearable; for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Then the pain ebbed slightly, and he gasped for air. He shouldn't want her: she killed Archie. But why? He roughly scrubbed his face clean of tears. She had changed. Or at least he thought she had. But she loved him; he knew she did. Why would she hurt him like this? It didn't make sense.

On impulse, Henry reached out for the phone on the nightstand beside Emma's bed. Since she and Snow had come back from the Enchanted Forest, Emma had given him her bed. He was thankful then, as he dialed his mother's number and the beeping of the keys calmed his mind, that she hadn't removed the phone from the room when she had given it to him. He hit send and pressed the phone to his ear.

It rang. Please pick up. Please. The phone kept ringing. When he heard his mother's voice, his heart skipped a beat. But it was her voicemail.

"Hello, this is Regina Mills..."

Henry bit his lip, hesitating, and let the message play through. At the beep, he said, "Mom, it's me. I... Why did you do it?" He sobbed. "I don't get it. I thought you had changed. Mom..." He trailed off, crying softly, and after a moment of just breathing into the phone, wishing she would pick up, he ended the call.

. . .

Over the next few days, David and Mary Margaret were absent from the apartment most of the time. They were helping Gepetto make funeral arrangements for Archie. Emma tried to cheer him up and take his mind off of everything. But on occasion she would look at him with a solemn expression, open her mouth and then close it, suddenly absorbed in making a Pop Tart or staring at the contents of the fridge. She seemed to be taking things just as hard as Mary Margaret and David even though she didn't know Archie that well.

On the third day after Archie's death, Emma went back to work, telling him sternly to stay out of trouble. Henry called Regina's cellphone for the tenth time, listened through the recorded message and hung up. She never returned his calls.

Before long the silence of the apartment seemed to close in on him, suffocating him. He grabbed his backpack, shoved a couple of candy bars inside and left. He wasn't sure how long he walked without any sense of where he wanted to go, staring at the ground the whole way. He only looked up when he caught sight of a familiar white mansion out of the corner of his eye.

He stopped. The mansion dwarfed the houses on either side, as always, but now a shiver ran up his spine. It was dark, devoid of life and warmth. It scared him how unfamiliar and uninviting it seemed. Not sure why, he fished his house key out of his backpack and went inside. The creak of the door made his heart sink, and the door boomed when he closed it. A thin layer of dust had formed on the stairs. He climbed them, listening to the loud echoing thud of each step. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

Hoping to escape the oppressive silence, he entered his room. Everything was the same. Nothing had been moved or thrown away. Only the bed sheets were out of place, strewn across the bed as if someone had recently slept in it. The sight made his chest tighten painfully. He took a deep breathe, tears stinging his eyes. He didn't know why it hurt so much. He wished Archie were there to explain it to him.

He left the room and crossed the hallway into his mother's room. Maybe it would provide some clues about where she was hiding. His eyes fell on her dresser, roaming over the memorabilia collected there: pictures of him and his mother before the book, and the hand mold he had made her when he was four. He carefully picked up the mold. FOR MOMMY, it said. Right on her dresser where she would see it every day. Had it been here all along? Even when he had pushed her away?

Henry ran a hand a over the uneven surface, then set it down carefully. The doubt that had plagued his mind grew. She couldn't have killed Archie. She loved him, and she had never and would never hurt him like this.

Halfway out the door, he turned back and grabbed a framed picture from the dresser - one of him and his mother, both smiling, with her arm around his shoulders - and placed it gently inside his backpack.

. . .

He still didn't know where to find her, but the Mausoleum, he figured, was as good a place to start as any. He hadn't been inside for long, but it had to have at least one place to hide. If it didn't then at least there might be something he could use to track her down.

His footsteps echoed on the stone steps much the same way they had in his empty house. That thought alone made him call out, "Mom? Mom, are you there?" He stopped at the bottom of the stairs unsure where to start. If Regina was hiding here, the room would have a hidden entrance. Should he just keep calling? Would she even hear him if he did?

"Mom?" he called again, louder this time. Silence. As his shoulders slumped, he heard a grinding sound like when he tomb scraped across the floor in the Mausoleum - like a stone door scraping across the floor, he thought, perking up.

"Henry?"

He turned to face the voice. Regina stood just inside a room of blinding light. "Mom!" He scurried across the room and hugged her. Her arms wrapped around him, squeezing tightly but not enough to hurt. "I wasn't sure I'd find you."

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, pulling back. "I missed you so much. I have to tell you that I had nothing to do with Archie. I was framed. I don't know how, but... Just..."

As she spoke, she stepped away from him. Her expression was somehow relieved and troubled at the same time.

"You swear?" Henry said. Regina looked at him with shining eyes. "I really liked Archie. Swear to me you didn't do this." To his horror, tears trailed down his face. His voice cracked.

Regina crouched down, her own tears falling. Henry couldn't remember the last time she had cried - no, that wasn't true. The last time she had cried was when he had come back to Storybrooke with Emma. She had been crying and so relieved and happy to see him and he had pulled away and yelled at her.

"I swear to you, Henry, that I didn't do it. I would never do that to you. I know how much you loved Archie."

Henry stepped back, glaring at her. Not for the first time, rage boiled inside him over what she had done. "I love Emma too, and you tried to put her under a sleeping curse! Why should I believe you?"

A pained expression screwed up her face. "I'm so sorry, Henry. I was wrong to do that. I was so scared of losing you..." She swallowed and continued, "Do you remember when I told you that I don't know how to love very well?" Henry nodded. "I was...scared, and I...lashed out in ways that I shouldn't have. And I am so sorry. Please believe me."

Henry studied her for a moment; she appeared genuine. "Okay," he said after a long moment. "I'm still angry, but... I know you've changed. I know you're trying. I believe in you."

A smile broke across Regina's face. "Thank you, Henry." She touched his cheek briefly with her fingertips and let her hand fall back to her side. "You have every right to be angry with me. But I do love you." Her eyes shone the same way they had when she first said those words to him just after the curse broke. He hadn't been sure he believed them then, but this time he did.

"I love you too, Mom," he said. Regina's smile widened. He slid his backpack off his shoulders, dropped it on the ground and looked around the room. Everything was bright white, and a white tree hung with red apples and draped with strings of crystals stood in the middle of the room. There were a few elegant gowns in the corners that Henry recognized from illustrations in his book.

"How are we going to prove you were framed?" he asked.

"We are not going to do anything," Regina said sternly. "I don't want you getting involved in this. Whoever did this is extremely powerful." Her expression softened. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Okay. Well... Can I stay here for a little bit?"

"Of course," Regina said. She gestured to a chair underneath the tree. Henry sat down awkwardly, wondering how his mother could stand how bright the room was. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good." He rested his loose fists on his thighs. He swallowed. "Mary Margaret and David are making funeral arrangements for Archie. Emma went back to work this morning. I hated being alone." Regina grabbed a chair from against the wall and placed it in front of him. As she sat down, he said, "I miss Archie. But I don't know who to talk to. Emma's trying but..." He shook his head slightly. "Archie always knew what to say."

Regina placed her hands over his. "I miss him too," she confessed. "He was...helping me. With my magic."

Henry went silent. Archie, he realized, had been his mother's only supporter. "I'll help you now," he said decisively. "I'm not Archie, and I don't understand stuff the way he did, but I'll help you."

Regina smiled, eyes shining. "Thank you, Henry." He thought she was going to say more, but then she ducked her head. When she looked back up, her tears were gone, her smile a little dimmer, but still brighter than he could ever recall seeing it.

. . .

Henry left a few hours later, making back to the apartment before Mary Margaret and David arrived. He heard them open the door. He leapt off his bed, clutching the picture he had taken from Regina's room in his hand, and dashed to the dresser. He buried the picture under his shirts and pants then went out to meet them.

"Hello, Henry," David said. He smiled at Henry, but there was a tiredness on his face that he couldn't hide. "Do you have any nice clothes at Regina's house?" He frowned when he said her name. "We'll need to get you some for Archie's funeral tomorrow."

"David," Mary Margaret hissed at the same time Henry blanched and asked, "It's tomorrow?"

"Sorry," David said.

Henry stared at him for a minute. "Yeah. I can go get them."

"I'll come with you," Mary Margaret said quickly. "Emma should almost be done with her shift. We can stop by the station on the way."

She ushered him out of the apartment, shooting David a scolding glare on the way out.

. . .

Emma and Mary Margaret trailed behind Henry as he trudged up the stairs of the mansion. They followed him into Regina's room, standing awkwardly in the doorway while he rooted through her closet for his formal wear. Regina insisted on keeping them in her closet to make sure he didn't ruin them. He looked over his shoulder; Emma and Mary Margaret stared at the dresser. Emma moved closer, gaze trained on the hand mold.

Henry pulled his clothes out of the closet. "She didn't do it," he said firmly. "She was framed."

"Henry," Mary Margaret said gently, "I know you don't want to believe that, but she did it. We saw her do it."

"She was framed."

Mary Margaret gave him a pitying look.

"Let's just go," Emma said with a hard edge to her voice, putting an end to the conversation. Mary Margaret nodded, and Henry followed them out of the house.

. . .

The next morning dawned cloudless and sunny as though Archie wasn't gone, as though nothing had changed. Was it crazy to be resentful of the weather? Archie would have been able to tell him. Henry dressed quietly and without fuss. He hated formal wear. He had fought with Regina whenever she forced him into formal clothes. This time, he wished he had paid more attention when she did his ties. It took him fifteen minutes before he finally got it.

After that, the morning was a blur. The only thing he could remember was wanting Regina to be there. To put a hand on his shoulder, run a hand through his hair, tell him everything would get better and that one day it would hurt less. That night, Henry sat on his bed with Pongo wishing that his mother were there to make him something other than a Pop Tart, and wondering if Regina would have brought him Pongo to cheer him up if she had been there.

Someone knocked at the door. Henry looked up as Emma opened it to reveal Archie. He was battered but alive. Henry stared in shock, climbing off the bed.

"You're alive?" Emma exclaimed.

"Of course I'm alive," Archie said, a little confused. "But we have a big problem - "

"Archie!" Getting over his shock, Henry launched himself off the bed and hugged Archie fiercely.

"Cora is in Storybrooke," Archie said. "She and Hook held me captive - "

"I knew my mom didn't do it!" Henry turned to Emma, refusing to let go of Archie. "I told you she was framed. And now we have proof. We should go tell her."

Emma didn't seem to hear him, her mouth hanging open. "Cora? But we destroyed the portal. How could she - "

"I don't know - "

"We have to tell my mom. I know where she is. Come on!" Henry let go of Archie, grabbed Emma's arm, and dragged her out of the apartment. Emma shouted back to Archie for him to stay where he was.

They passed a startled Ruby on the stairwell as they thundered down the steps. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Archie's alive! My mom was framed, and we're going to go find her," Henry said.

"Archie's alive? But we buried his body! How can - "

"Cora," Emma said. "She's here in Storybrooke. We need to find Regina."

Ruby glanced at Emma. Henry couldn't see the expression on Emma's face, but Ruby's expression hardened.

"Then let's go find her," Ruby said. "Before Cora does."