NEW YORK CITY, 2015

For the most part, Henry Swan had lived a comfortable, enjoyable life with his single mom--one that is usually laid-back and could possibly even be labeled a cool mom. Yes, all of the above is true, for the most part. Henry can count on his hands (okay, if he's being honest, the list surpasses ten and has to start including his toes,) the amount of times his mom has had a meltdown over something that he'd done.

Today adds to that sparse list.

And no, Henry had not committed any of the following typical teenage grievances: he had not crashed the car, hadn't sneaked a beer, there was no bag of mysterious pills in his bedside drawer to be found, no magazine filled with pictures of naked women stashed under his bed. The source of his mother's panic is far worse, to her, apparently.

What had Henry had gotten himself into this time? He'd asked a girl on a date. It'd started off innocently enough, first just stealing glances at the girl in his math class he'd had a crush on for much longer than he'd like to admit, then finally talking to her one fateful Monday straight after class. They'd gotten their communicating in with texting (because how else to teenagers bond nowadays?) until he'd racked up enough courage to ask her out. And to his complete and utter surprise, she'd agreed.

Naturally, he'd come home feeling exceedingly proud of himself and overly excited over his first association that had anything to do with dating, so naturally he'd practically kicked the door down to announce his presence in the apartment, making his achievement loud and well-known for its only other occupant.

Henry recalls the conversation of a few minutes prior with a cringe, while he sits at the table across from his mother who is currently peppering him with questions.

"Jesus, Kid, keep banging the door open like that and you'll knock it clean off its hinges," Emma had half-snarked, half-reprimanded from her position in the kitchen as she battles a new spicy chicken dish.

Ignoring the comment, he'd kicked off his Nikes at the door and slid most of the way into the kitchen in his slippery socks. "Ma. Guess what."

"Hmm?" She'd hummed  in response, squinting at the cookbook, then widened her eyes dramatically and lowered the stove heat considerably.

"Guess who's got a date later tonight," he'd presented rather flamboyantly, raising an eyebrow cockily and stabbing a finger into his chest. Before she could say anything, he'd answered his own rhetorical question.  "This guy."

That'd caught her attention, and she'd whirled on him, forsaking the raw chicken on the counter. "You did what?!"

"Henry! Are you even listening to me?!" Emma raises her tone to snap her son out of his stupor. God, those irritating middle-aged Facebook moms complaining about how teenagers never listen were actually on to something.

He snaps his gaze towards hers, gazes at her blankly for a couple seconds before blinking rapidly and nodding. "What?-yeah,"

Knowing full well that he hadn't been, Emma calls on the patience gods and repeats her previous question. "Why didn't you even tell me about her?" Her tone comes out a little more pitiful and hurt than she'd meant it to, but if anything, she hopes it'll score her a few points in this discussion.

He sends her an aggravated look and just stops his eyes before they roll upwards, but is unable to reign in his tone. "I wish I could say it was because I knew you'd be this annoying about it, but honestly I thought you'd take it better."

Emma unhinges her jaw and stretches her hands out in front of her in a helpless gesture. "This is how parents are supposed to react to their kids going on a date, right? Freak out and--"

"You said I was going that time." Henry cuts in cheekily, turning around her words like the little shit he is.

Emma groans aloud. "Ugh!--you're not even old enough for this! You're still my kid," She says desperately, coming right down to the heart of the issue.

"I'm fifteen." Henry puts in unnecessarily, and crosses his arms over himself as though he'd resolved the issue.

Emma rolls her eyes. "Don't remind me. And for a date, you should be at least seventeen. No; eighteen."

"Ma!"

Knowing she'd been a little unreasonable, Emma sighs dramatically and crosses her arms in front of her. Truthfully, she's a little unsure why she's acting the way she is; half of her wants to slap him on the back and congratulate him on his skills and celebrate the fact that he's going on his first date--that's a milestone right? And the other half? Well. That other part of her is banging pots and pans and screaming that he's too young, that no girl will ever be good enough for him, and her inner, locked away Mama Bear is dangerously close from busting out of its cage. She wonders if this reaction is normal--she has no experience with raising teenagers, (having had no help from any parents when she was a teenager herself) so she's really winging it--has been this whole time, basically. She figures she must be doing an okay job so far if her son was able to score a date. She sighs once more, but this time in resignation. "What day did you schedule it?"

Henry looks a little surprised at her consent--though she hadn't agreed outright, so he still plays it safe. "Um, tonight?" He winces when he sees her reaction, acknowledging any progress gained may have just been lost.

Her eyebrows shoot up, her mouth hangs open, and her hands fall from their position to slap against the table. It would have been comical really, if Henry's whole relationship status wasn't at stake. "Tonight?!"

"Ma, chill! It's just ice cream at that place around the corner so, no, you don't have to drop me off. It's after dinner. Yes, I'll get my homework done."

Oh. The ice cream place. Emma smiles at that, then frowns when she realizes that they hadn't gone there together, to the place they'd celebrated his thirteenth birthday, for awhile. Now he's taking this girl. She furrows her brow, chews on her lower lip, thinking it over. Eventually, she looks back up into her son's nervous face. "Fine."

His expression slowly morphs into a grin, and he stands quickly from the table. "Thanks, Ma!" On the way to his room though, he calls over his shoulder, "But I would have gone anyway." At her playful angrily scooting back from the table, he escapes into his room with a laugh. Emma joins in for a few seconds, then falls somber again.

Henry's going on a date. She shakes her head at herself, resuming her task of preparing the chicken. She really thought she'd take him growing up a little better than she is right now.

Dinner came and went, with Emma desperately making all kinds of conversation other than his plans later that night, but the dishes are washed and put away, table wiped down, and there's no way to keep avoiding it. Finally, Henry sighs, pats his pocket to make sure he has his phone and a crumpled twenty dollar bill, and makes as if to leave.

Emma stares at him for a moment; (it hadn't escaped her that he'd changed into his nicer black jeans and a casual button-down for the occasion) and realizes that she has to accept all this. He's almost as tall as her now, and he's very handsome, she notes with pride. Okay. She can do this. All this doesn't stop her from making one last effort: "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you there?"

Henry laughs, gives her a quick squeeze, and leaves the apartment after calling over his shoulder, "Goodbye, Ma!"

THE ENCHANTED FOREST, 2015.

The shrill cry of an unhappy child pierces the midnight air through the dark; Regina wakes with a start. For a moment, all she feels is panic, then she remembers her current predicament as a new mother. She hastily rubs her hands over her clumped eyelashes (the result of hastily removed makeup in the attempt to get some rest as soon as possible) to force some coherence into her body and mind. She makes it onto her feet, and though in the first seconds her bare heels connect with the carpet, her head fogs and spins, she soon regains control and makes her way over to the crib on the other side of the room. All the while, her son's cries ring in her ears, each second ticking past adding to his hiccuping grief.

She reaches down into the crib, and carefully lifts the sobbing, tiny boy from his firm mattress and soft blankets. She collects him into her arms, holds him to her chest, and begins to gently bounce the child. "Oh, Henry," she breathes, hoping the vibration from her voice will help soothe him. "Henry, Henry, Henry."

He continues to cry, but with each moment that passes so close to his mother, he calms slightly. The sobs soon turn to hiccups, and hiccups to deep breaths, and Regina feels a large grin grace her features. "That's right!" She exclaims softly, but full of pride, and lifts him up so that his little head is level with hers, the moonlight bathing his face in a soft glow and causing his eyes to sparkle. She stretches her head towards his, and begins to kiss away the wet paths on his ridiculously soft and chubby cheeks. She feels as though she will never tire of the feel of his perfect, smooth cheeks under her lips, and continues the action while he begins a tittering giggle. She breaks away and gently rubs the tip of her nose against his, before searching for the cause of his waking.

"What's the matter, my Little Prince?" She asks him unnecessarily, but doesn't have look far before she finds the source. She wrinkles her nose at the odor wafting from his previously clean diaper, but mostly pulls the face for the source of his amusement, as diaper changing isn't exactly his favorite activity to undergo. She supports his tiny body a bit better in her arms as she crosses over to the changing table a few feet away. She knows that soon she'll have to move the nursery out of her room, but at this point, she feels the need to have her little boy close at all times.

She reclines him slowly onto the table, and hands him his current favorite toy: a soft, stuffed giraffe to distract him with as she makes quick work of unsnapping and pulling his onesie down to his ankles. He begins to whimper at the cold air nipping at him from the absence of his warm pajamas, but Regina quickly makes calming shushing noises, and even pinches at the edges of his little round tummy to tickle him for a further distraction. It works, and she pulls apart the spoiled diaper, wraps it up, and deposits it in the small, close-lidded trash can next to the table. She continues to talk to him and begins to sing softly as she wipes him clean and fastens the fresh diaper around his waist.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she sings as she rubs his smooth tummy while fondly watching him pull a bubbly grin. "You make me happy when skies are grey," she continues, as she pulls his footsie pajamas up his legs and through his arms. "You'll never know, Dear, how much I love you--please don't take my sunshine away," She finishes, just as she snaps the last button into place at his collar. She picks him up, and he fastens his arms around her neck as they make their way back to the crib. She drops the giraffe back into his bed, and holds him out in front of her.

"I love you," she whispers, though she knows that right now, he has no idea what the statement means. Though, she thinks, as he immediately smiles and begins batting at her nose with his tiny fingers, maybe he does. She gives his cheeks one last kiss and sets him down. She tucks his blankets around him, and moves the giraffe to where he can reach.

"Sleep well, my Little Prince."

Regina comes to softly, the remains of the dream staying with her as her eyes flutter open. A smile adorns her face; she casts a glance across the room to see the crib, but it's nowhere to be found. She frowns as she blinks away the blurriness and instantly feels sick when she remembers where she is, as she takes in the marble flooring and dark vanity from the cold castle staring at her across from her bed. Of course.

Regina has a love-hate relationship towards her frequent dreams that are actually memories; they are extremely bittersweet. While she loves to experience them in the moment, as she gets to relive each second from her precious memories of her little Henry, they're also a cold, unforgiving slap in the face to wake up to as she's reminded of all that she's lost. She lowers her head slowly back onto her pillow and brushes a single tear off of her cheek.

But as she drifts back into sleep, she prays for another dream.

AN: I suppose you could call this another "filler" chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it. I really want to build the foundation for emotions for later in the story; there's no way I'm going to let an opportunity like this go to waste by having Regina show up in New York by chapter 2. I'm not a fan of fast-moving fics, so this probably won't be. But don't worry; the story will be underway extremely soon!

I hope you still enjoyed! If you did, let me know with a vote or comment! (Or both!)