Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any recognizable characters.

AN: So I'm finally getting through my prompts limp, ergo many Neverland-arc stories. This is written for MaybeWeAre who was the 200th reviewer on Meet Me Halfway. I hope you enjoy the story, and thank you for the prompt!

There's a first for everything, that was always Emma's motto. Though she was never the girl in all her new schools to make friends quickly, or keep them for that matter, she was the girl who would always try things once. She had pulled fire alarms, graffitied school buildings, and stolen from convenience stores on nothing more than just wanting to say she had done it. She had also discovered she had a taste for the fairer sex after a dare to kiss Stacey Neiberman in the tenth grade had left her wanting more, but that was neither here nor there.

The first time she went to a carnival was with Neal, albeit they had snuck into the abandoned amusement park mere hours after meeting, but she had crossed it off her bucket list nonetheless. Her first taste of alcohol had been when she was eight after complaining to a foster mom about her aching tummy. She had been given a shot of whiskey for it, and that had made her stomach worse.

But the first time she went on any type of sea vessel, the Jolly Roger of all things, was when she was breaching twenty-nine, as her son, whom she had spent the last ten years pushing out of her mind, was kidnapped by some psychopathic cult worshippers. It was here on this ship, after they had sailed away from Storybrooke and were whipped through a portal that she spent her first night on the ship thinking of all of Henry's firsts that she never got to have.

There was a first time for everything. Always try things once, Emma always said, but she could never get back the time she lost with her son, and now that time was threatened to be limited.

She tossed and turned on the low bunk of her cabin, bringing the thin, woollen blanket up to her chin before suddenly ripping it off of her from the scratchy heat. So aggravated at the blanket, at Greg and Tamara, at everything in the world, that Emma kicked the blanket off the bed in a huff so it fell in a clump on the floor.

She lay back, staring up at the aged wood of the ceiling supporting the deck as her mind raced. They were quite intricately hand-crafted beams, save for the notch marks that made her cringe thinking about the cleanliness of the bed. But that only distracted her for a moment because like a tidal wave roaring straight for her, Emma was reminded why she was on the boat in the first place. Henry was gone, and it was her fault.

This is why she gave up Henry in the first place. She always wondered what her life would be like if she had kept him, but who was she kidding? She could barely remember to throw out spoiled milk let alone take care of a kid, and now look at where Henry was. Held hostage by his father's almost-wife and her creepy lover. If social services got a load of that they'd take Henry away for good.

But she was so glad he found her. She may not have been there for him growing up, but she was there for him now.

She'd save him, she promised herself. She may be a crappy mother, but she was damn well going to get her son back because there was no way in hell she was letting go of her child a second time. She still had to tease him for crushing on girls, and mock his puberty voice, and cheer obnoxiously at whatever sports he decided to play – or his chess matches, whichever he wanted. Her eyes watered at the thought of never having those experiences, and she pushed closed fists to her eyes to stop the water works before anyone heard.

She ripped her hands away when something tickled her arm and looked up to find Regina, nearly forgetting the brunette was in the bunk right across from her, with a blanket neatly folded in her hand as she offered it to the blonde.

"It's cotton," Regina explained and dropped it onto the bed with little fanfare. Her voice was hoarse and through the small circular window above their beds that allowed a sliver of moonlight to stream into the cabin, Emma could see that Regina's cheeks were glistening. "Now go to sleep."

Regina dropped back onto her bunk, her back to the blonde and her kneels curled into her chest. Emma sat up on her elbows, noticing Regina was now blanket-less and shivering, though she was fairly certain Regina wasn't shivering from the cold despite the fact she was in nothing but her thin camisole tank top and underwear. Any other time Emma would have made a comment about her decency and come up with a more-than-a-little serious euphemism. Lord knows she had been fantasizing about what Regina looked like under those clothes, but now just wasn't the time. The older woman's body hitched, and Emma knew from those nights when she too had to keep her own tears quiet for fear of waking the older kids with a mean streak that Regina was crying.

So not for the first time, Emma went to go comfort Regina. She swung her legs over the bed and shook out the blanket, kicking aside the woollen sandpaper so it slid underneath a trunk and placed the good one over Regina who stiffened at the first gust of wind from the descending sheet.

"Don't," Regina warned. Gone was the scratchy, vulnerable voice only to be replaced with danger and darkness that Emma assumed was the Evil Queen.

But Emma was never one for listening. Instead, she smoothed the edges of the blanket down over Regina's shoulders, running soothing circles for a moment there, before making sure tanned legs were covered under the cotton.

"I can't sleep," Emma said, staring at Regina's back, her mind trying to comprehend when and where Tamara and Greg had snuck into the mines to capture Henry. "He was right there, he was right beside us, and then he was gone."

"Your mother is a fantastic babysitter," Regina said dryly.

Emma would have snorted out a laugh, but she just slid off the bed and sunk to the floor, keeping her back against the frame and to Regina as she brought her knees up to rest her arms on them. "What if something happens?" Emma voiced out loud, and though it was said in nothing more than a whisper, it seemed to echo inside the silent room. "What if–"

"Please don't finish that thought." The pleading whimper on Regina's voice rang just as loudly as the question, and Emma whipped her head at the sound. The only other time this utter helplessness made itself known was when Regina stepped into Emma's space and asked her to help bring Henry up from the mine. It was the same basic principal: their son's life threatened and now both mothers had to put aside their differences in order to bring him home.

But this time was different.

This time, there were old grudges, new magic, and a villain even Rumpelstiltskin was nervous to meet. The stakes were higher, and it wasn't some fifty foot drop threatening to take away their son. If they failed, well, neither mother wanted to think about those consequences.

"Did you feel him kick?" Regina asked quietly, shifting under the blanket to move onto her back.

"What?"

"When you were pregnant, what did it feel like when he kicked?"

The blonde shifted her head slightly to catch the older woman staring skyward as if in a trance. "Felt like I had to pee," Emma admitted as Regina rolled her eyes. "Seriously. He was sitting right on top of my bladder, and every morning, every time I drank apple juice, and at 2 AM on the dot, he'd swim around in there and kick my bladder like a soccer ball."

Emma smiled fondly at the memory. Before it had been annoying, irritating even – she told herself anything to make it easier to give him away, but looking back on it now, feeling Henry, a tiny little peanut of a baby move inside her – it was pretty awe inspiring actually.

"Henry hated soccer," Regina said breaking the silence and interrupting the blonde's thoughts.

Emma turned her head to see that Regina had moved so that she was lying on her side facing the blonde and had shifted so their heads were nearly next to each other's by the edge of the bed.

"Everyone thinks that Henry is fond of reading and science because of me, and while that may be true, I did sign him up for toddler soccer when he was three."

"No way," Emma grinned.

Regina nodded. "He was adorable in his little soccer cleats and shin guards. He was a little smaller than the other children, so his uniform shirt fit loosely around him, and by that I mean it reached his knees."

Emma awed out a laugh as she pictured a tiny Henry in a much too big Storybrooke Knights soccer uniform, the jersey swallowing him whole but his wide beam making up for his lack of height.

"He was so excited to play he made us arrive to the field an hour beforehand. By the time the game started, half the kids were sitting on the field plucking grass while Henry and a few others were running from one end to another chasing down a ball and falling over each other."

"Why does he hate it?"

"He got stung by a bee," Regina explained simply. "Right as he went to go kick the ball, a bee had stung him and he fell to the ground in tears. That is also how we found out he's allergic to bee stings."

"Oh god, poor kid," Emma groaned.

"Nothing deadly, though it gave me a fright. His arm sported some terrible hives that he scratched a little too hard. He still has the scar on his forearm. He refused to go back on the team after that and has had a distaste for it ever since," Regina said with a roll of her shoulder.

"Wow," Emma said amazed. "What a baby."

Regina glared, swatting at the blonde's shoulder before agreeing. "He was."

"Sometimes when he was moving way too much, I'd rub my stomach right here." Emma reached behind her and tugged Regina's hand until the brunette was half off the bed so that her hand was pressed just above Emma's right hip. "I used to think he'd be a runner like me, but I didn't want that for him, so I rubbed him right there. That's where his head would be," the blonde explained, patting Regina's hand on her hip for emphasis before leaning back. "It'd help him fall asleep, or at least quiet him down, and sometimes I'd feel him move just the slightest inch like he was trying to cuddle and I would wonder what he would look like, how he would sound. I tried giving Henry a snuggle last week and he gagged."

Regina scoffed. "He is never too old for cuddles."

"He is a teen."

"Not yet," Regina unsurprisingly refuted.

The silence around them was comfortable as the two women milled over their thoughts. Regina's hand still rested on Emma's hip though neither woman noticed when Regina's thumb began caressing a soft trail to and fro.

"He will be though," Regina promised softly.

"Will be what?"

"A teenager," she explained. "He'll grow up."

For a second, Emma wanted to argue that Henry was gonna be their scrawny, nosy little kid forever, but then it clicked in her brain. He would grow up. Because they'd take him out of Neverland where he could, and they wouldn't have to worry about magical villains or portals or the Enchanted Forest. The most he'd be concerned about would be which Axe smell be liked better (none of them, Emma had a preemptive response at the ready even now), and how to beat the next stage of DMC.

Resting her head on Regina's bed, Emma finally felt the waves of uncertainty roll off with the sea because she knew, she knew without a doubt that if anyone were to save Henry, it would be her and Regina. She'd bet on them every time and come away with the jackpot.

"He will," Emma agreed softly, catching brown eyes that still shone with moisture in the moonlight. "Can you tell me about him?"

There's a first time for everything, that was always Emma's motto. The first time Regina shared stories about Henry's childhood meant the world to Emma, but it would be nothing compared to when, several days later, Regina would give Emma the memories to live for herself, to claim them as her own as she also experienced Henry's first word, his first step, his tantrums and earaches as they crossed the town line to escape yet another curse. In the future, years down the line when jealous sisters, persistent pirates, convenient outlaws, or Charming lives threatened ceased to be a regular occurrence, Emma would wonder when exactly she fell for Regina. She didn't know it now, but for the first time, as Regina and Emma shared stories of Henry, in the womb and out of it, they were starting their family.