— No, no, — Henry said, shaking his head. — Stop the car.
She hadn’t heard him like this before; he tended to get excited, yes, but right now he sounded afraid. Emma wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do.
— You have to stay in Storybrooke, — he said, — because of the curse. You have to break the curse!
She shook her head, knowing he was close to tears.
— No, I don’t, — she said. — I have to help you. Those are different things.
— But you’re a hero! — he cried. — You can’t run! You’re supposed to help everybody.
She thought of August’s argument out in the woods. It was the same thing. Help others before you help yourself. But Emma had never lived that way, and she wasn’t about to start now.
— Look, kid, — she said. — I know it’s hard for you to see it, but I’m doing what’s best for you. That’s what you wanted when you brought me to Storybrooke. That’s what I’m doing.
— I want you to do what’s best for all of us, — Henry said, almost arguing with her thoughts. — I thought you were believing. I thought you were starting to get it.
— Henry…
— You weren’t?
— I don’t know what I was doing But now I see it clearly. The problem is the place. This place. Storybrooke.
— But the curse, — he said, shaking his head. — You’re the only chance to bring back the happy endings…
There was nothing she could say, so she didn’t bother trying to comfort him. He would figure it out eventually. She watched grimly as they approached the sign marking the edge of Storybrooke, thinking, for the first time, of what their lives might look like in Boston. They could…
— Henry! — she cried.
It happened fast. He reached over and yanked the wheel to the side, and it was all Emma could do to keep the Bug from rolling. She corrected the steering, hit the brakes, and whipped the wheel back the other way to make up for their momentum to the right. The Bug spun but didn’t roll, and they came to a stop perpendicular to the road.
She looked at Henry.
— What are you thinking? — she said. — You could have gotten us both killed!
But her heart stopped her from saying more. He was crestfallen. Tears in his eyes, snot bubbling out of his nose, he strung together a series of fragments:
— …We can’t go… please… please don’t make me… Everything is here… your parents… me… your family… we can’t go. Don’t make me go.
He hung his head, and Emma reached over, pulled him toward her. This wasn’t the way. It wasn’t going to work like this. She’d have to find another way.
— Okay, — she said. — I’m sorry. We’re not going. — She shook her head. — I’m sorry.
After a few moments, and after Henry calmed down, Emma turned the car around and headed back to Storybrooke. She dropped Henry off at home and went back to her apartment. Inside, she found Mary Margaret in the kitchen, making breakfast.
— I thought you’d left, — Mary Margaret said when she came in.
Great, Emma thought. Now she’s pissed, too.
— Mary Margaret… — Emma began.
— But it was hard to tell, seeing as you didn’t bother to say good-bye. — She looked up from the toaster and took a step toward Emma, her anger rising. — Do you remember when I left? When I ran? What you said to me? That we had to stick together. That we were like family?
— Yes, — Emma said. — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.
— That’s right, you shouldn’t have. Why, after everything, would you just go?
Emma sighed.
— I don’t want to be sheriff anymore. I don’t want people relying on me. I don’t want this. — She shook her head, feeling more defeated than she had since she’d been here.
— What about Henry? — Mary Margaret asked.
— I–I tried to take him with me.
— You abducted him?
Emma had never seen Mary Margaret this angry. She had no defense against her accusations, either.
— I want what’s best for him.
— And being on the run is what’s best? It sounds like it’s what’s best for you, Emma. I thought you’d changed.
— You thought wrong, — Emma said.
— Well, regardless, — Mary Margaret said, — you’ve got to do the right thing for him now.
— And what’s that?
— I don’t know. You’re his mother. — She gave Emma one last angry glare. — Figure it out.
Snow watched the castle wall through the spyglass until she heard the signaclass="underline" a piercing wolf’s howl. That was it. Now was the time.
She turned to Grumpy.
— Do it, — she said.
He nodded, and she watched as Happy nocked an arrow and Grumpy lit the lanolin-soaked rag wrapped around the arrowhead. The arrow lit, Happy drew it back and launched it up into the night sky.
That was the signal.
— Let’s go! — Snow cried. She and the dwarfs, along with Granny and Jiminy, ran toward the castle walls.
As they ran, Snow heard the first bombardments coming from their «air support»: The Blue Fairy and a cadre of her companions swarmed down from the sky and began peppering the castle and its guards with multicolored fireballs.
— Go, go! — Snow cried, and soon they reached the castle walls. Above, the soldiers were all preoccupied with the fairies. Snow nodded to Granny, who shot a grappling claw up over the wall. The metal gripped the stone, and Snow nodded. So far, so good.
She, the dwarfs, and Granny all climbed the dangling rope, and one by one, they reached the lowest parapet. Snow surveyed the scene. All of the guards had flocked down to the central courtyard and were shooting up into the sky.
— Come on, — Snow said.
They hustled down a set of stone stairs and soon reached the courtyard. Just as they did, Snow felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to find Red there behind them. Snow nodded. They were at full strength. She could see, a hundred yards in the distance, the doorway where she guessed Charming was being held. A dozen guards blocked their path.
This time, she didn’t have to give the order. The dwarfs were out front, their pikes raised, all of them screaming with the rage of battle. Snow, Red, and Granny were not far behind.
The guards never saw them coming.
It took only a minute to dispatch them all, distracted as they were by the aerial bombardment. Beside her, Snow felt Red expanding in size, and then she heard the wolf version of her friend cutting through the terrified guards. She concentrated on her own fight with an overweight, armor-clad man, who was too slow to stop her flurry of quick strikes with her short sword.
— There! — Granny cried, just as the guard she was fighting fell. From the east, another dozen guards were streaming into the courtyard. — Now’s your chance! — Granny said. — We’ll hold them.
Snow nodded and ran for the doorway, taking the stairs by twos, remembering the way from her last incursion.
At the top of the stairs, she reached a long, dark corridor. The torches had been extinguished. She looked down the hallway, breathing heavily, listening for any sound. I am alone, she thought. She took a step.
When she did. King George stepped out from a doorway halfway down the hall. He drew an enormous sword and pointed it at her head.
— Hello, my dear, — he said. — Going somewhere?
Snow took a step forward, holding her measly sword out. This man, she thought, has caused me much misery. She had to get past him, she knew that. But she was terrified.
When she was ten feet from him, she saw movement near George’s feet. Before she realized what she was seeing, George cried out in pain.