August

She ambled down the stairs to find Mary Margaret starting dinner and her son slouched on the sofa, phone in hand. Given the angle he was holding in, she could tell he was playing the same game he'd been on when she left him to try and work upstairs. It was nice to know that he had achieved as little with his day as she had with hers. Fruitlessness all round.

She threw herself down besides him and leant across him to grab the remote.

"I was watching that." he complained as she flicked through the channels.

"Yeah?" She questioned but no more looking away from her screen as he did from his. "Now I'm watching it." She thought heard Mary Margaret huff from the kitchen but chose to ignore it as she continued to hop through the channels.

After finding nothing to watch Emma put the channel to what it had been on and returned the remote to her son. Stupidly, she looked up and found her mother watching her.

"What?" She asked her.

"Why don't you help me with dinner?" Emma found her eyes rolling, but got up nonetheless. After washing her hands she looked to her mother waiting further instruction. "If you could start chopping the carrots?"

"Carrots?"

"What's wrong with carrots?"

"I don't like carrots."

"You always used to eat carrots. I used to put them in the stews-"

"Yeah, when you made too much on purpose and claimed that you just happened to have left overs." Emma nodded, looking in the fridge hoping another vegetable would materialise. "I remember. Of course you'd be a mother for a roommate." She chided as pushed the door shut and started rummaging through the freezer. "And of course you don't have any frozen vegetables."

As she stood up she found Mary Margaret uncomfortably close to her. A feeling of discomfort only increased by the fact she was she holding a knife. Emma gingerly took it from her and placed it back on the island next to the chicken.

"What is your problem this evening?"

"There is no problem. I just don't like carrots." Emma said stepping out of the confined space and settling herself on one of the bar stools. "Ask the kid."

"Only oranges should be orange." He parroted back a clearly overheard line.

Emma looked over to him unmoved from the sofa, eyes still fixed on his phone. She wondered how much he absorbed while he was silent in their presence. How much he heard and retained while they assumed he was absorbed in his games. How much he knew.

She gestured back to him as if he had made her point and that the discussion was settled.

"You're having them tonight." Mary Margaret ignored, passing over the chopping board, carrots and a clean knife. "If this is you now I dread to think what Neal is going to be like as a teenager." She complained.

Emma bristled in her seat and was about to open her mouth to voice her complaints but for her son throwing his phone across the sofa switched her attention.

"Speaking of." she sighed. "You break it and the replacement will be a brick." She called over to him as she topped and tailed the first of the carrots.

"Mom just text me, the banner interrupted my game and killed me." he huffed, retrieving his phone from the mess of cushions. "She wants to know if you've enrolled me in school yet."

Emma stood up, walked across the small floor grabbed her keys and and jacket and slammed the apartment door behind her.

As the tiny loft apartment was aware, she was ready for a fight. She'd been yelling and snapping at strangers on the phone all afternoon but that had got her nowhere. As soon as her irritation with them had reached the point of no return the staff at the end of the line would either hang up or revert to the scripts and plastic smiles. Her mother was no good to fight with; at best she would be able to provoke her into a passive aggressive mess at worse she would dissolve into tears. She couldn't argue with the kid. There was a line and arguing with her child was miles across it.

Regina on the other hand was fair game. More than fair game in fact. Regina was a foe worthy of her foil. Regina would bite back.

She parked the car and slammed the rusting, yellow door behind her. Before she had even made it half way down the path the door opened to reveal Regina Mills. The older woman stood in her doorway, she still dressed as though she spent her days in the office despite the fact she barely left the house any more.

"You want to talk to me. You talk to me." Emma pointed at her, rapidly closing the distance between the two of them. "You do not talk to me through the kid."

Regina simply held up her hand and pulled her BlackBerry from her pants pocket. When Emma was within reach she showed her its call log. Emma stared at her name and saw an embarrassingly large number in brackets after it.

"If you deigned to answer my phone calls I wouldn't have to use our son."

Emma looked down. Her phone was the bedroom floor she hoped it was still in one piece after it had been thrown across the room. "I feel this is a Miss Swan moment." She looked up, her anger suddenly overwhelmed by shame, and found Regina had stepped aside.

"Would you like to come in or would you like to continue arguing with me on my front step?" Emma followed her as she was led through to the living room. She found a glass of cider and a tumbler of scotch with two ice cubes on the coffee table. "Henry text me. Initially to tell me that my text had killed him," her brow furrowed slightly as she was still clearly trying to understand what that message meant, "and then to warn me that you were on the war path."

Emma fell onto the sofa and picked up the drink clearly meant for her. "This is Gold's fault." She felt Regina sit besides her.

"That I was not expecting." Regina followed, sipping from her cider.

"That stupid cloaking spell he gave Belle. I have spent the entire day talking to different shipping firms trying to get our stuff from New York." She turned to the woman besides her. "Do you know how hard it is to get people to ship to a town that doesn't exist?" She let her head fall onto the back of the couch. "Trying to convince company after company that I'm not trying to send them on a wild goose chase. What kinda a name for a town is Storybrooke?" the Bronx accent she impersonated caused her to cough slightly. "I have two choices - drive to New York and pack it all up or simply start again. Again." she sighed finishing her drink.

Packing up her life had never been an issue. Foster home to foster home. City to city. Then of course the ten months in detention. Even when she moved in with Mary Margaret there had only been a handful of boxes. But this time it was different.

It wasn't her items she cared about so much. It was Henry's.

They had had a life there. It didn't matter to her that the memories were fake. She had baby photos, his first pair of pre-walkers, the stuffed toy she'd bought him when she was reunited with him in Phoenix. It was a tiny grubby little thing. It was purchased from a drug store. It was the first thing she'd got him.

He cared though. He wanted his life in Storybrooke. He wanted to be surrounded by family.

She just wanted him.

Regina got up, took the blonde's glass and walked over to the drinks unit. "Why don't you ask your father to borrow that god awful truck of his and you, Henry and I can drive over and sort out your apartment." Her back was turned to her, so Emma couldn't read her expression. The offer sounded genuine though. When Regina turned back around she found a smile on Emma's face for the first time in a long time.

"You would do that for me?"

"I am very grateful for you choosing to stay here. For allowing me access to Henry." She paused as she passed the freshened drink. "Besides," Emma watched as Regina sipped from her drink, "I'm nice now." The older woman smirked at her.

September

She looked down at her ringing phone and smiled. She hit the space bar on her laptop and paused the programme she was watching. "Whats up kid?" she asked as slipped her feet off her desk and back onto the ground.

"Not much." She could hear him smiling back at her through the phone. "You?"

"Paperwork. Doughnuts. Coffee. You know, Sheriffy stuff." She shrugged.

"Uh huh." Henry drawled out. "What you watching on Netflix?"

"I'm…" she rolled her eyes knowing that arguing would be pointless. "The Office. How did you know?"

"I tried to log on but because you're cheap only one of us can watch at a time." There was a brief pause. "Now I'm spending half my time at Mom's you need to upgrade your package."

"Or you could tell your mother to get her own account."

"She still uses a BlackBerry. Netflix is beyond her."

Emma looked at the time in the corner of her screen, logged off and shut down her computer. "I suppose I should do some work then, or did you actually want to talk to the woman endured disgusting and painful things to bring you into this world?"

"Mom wants to know if you want to come over for dinner."

"Dinner? At the house? With the both of you?"

"There will be food, china, cutlery… maybe a drink of some sort."

"Don't sass me kid, I know that dinner is and what it entails, I've just never been invited round before."

"Mom thinks we should have dinner to celebrate my first week back at school. Besides," he added after another pause, "we ate dinner when we were all in New York. We eat together at Granny's."

"Yeah but-"

"But?" he cut her off.

She had nothing.

She had nothing and Henry knew it.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go to Regina's for dinner. Its just that she had never been asked. And now that she had the idea confused her. She had eaten with Regina plenty of times. Henry was right, they had eaten in New York; but that was a hotchpotch of a meal constructed from what was in the cupboards and of what remained in date. It was a 'eat the food or we have decide to either throw it out or drive it to Maine' meal. They had certainly eaten at Granny's. Countless times in fact. But that was always one of them with Henry inviting the other to join them. That was always a 'chance meeting' meal.

They had never had a preordained meal. They definitely had never a family meal.

Her hands were at her temples by the time she realised she hadn't said anything for quite a while.

"What are we having?"

"Its Friday so some fish of some kind."

"Whats it being Friday got to do with fish?"

"We're Catholic." Henry replied as that would explain everything she needed to understand.

"No you're not."

"Mo- Emma," She closed her eyes as her son swallowed back her title and called her by her name. "I think I would know if we're Catholic or not."

She wasn't his mom anymore. Regina was his mother. His mother that had raised him for ten years. His mother who had endured sleepless nights of croup, teething and childhood viruses. His mother who had read him bedtime stories and kissed him goodnight. His mother who had packed his lunches and sent him off to school. His mother who had kissed away the injuries, soothed away the nightmares and raised him to be the young man talking to her on the phone now.

She was just Emma.

The year in New York was just a year and it was based on false memories. The year they'd had together he was twelve. Too old for bedtime stories. Too old for kisses goodnight and to be warned of bed bugs bites. Too old for a mother to coddle. He was twelve. Wanting to forge his steps into his teenage years, wanting to find himself as a young adult.

She was just Emma.

"What time?" She asked him reluctantly.

"Mom told me to tell you six so you're here for 6:30. We won't eat until seven though."

"And I'm to bring wine? Bread? Lorelai and Rory?"

"The wine will be enough." She could hear him smiling again. "Red." He added quickly. "And some Pepsi for me. She won't deny me soda if you bring it."

"Anything else?"

"That should do it."

"Love you, kid."

"Love you too. Oh and Emma," his end went quiet for a moment, "thank you."

"For what?"

"Letting us stay."

The call was ended and the phone thrown on the desk. She looked at her watch and saw that if she locked up now she had time for a shower. She started the slow process of shutting down the old PC and packed away her laptop. Grabbed her jacked from the coat rack, flicked off the lights and shut the door to her office for the weekend.

October

She walked straight in, despite the protests of whichever former princess was behind the secretary's desk, as she juggled the takeout bags, drinks and the three local papers. She kicked off her ankle boots, dropped everything on the coffee table and tucked her legs in underneath herself as she settled on the sofa.

"Your mother isn't here." Regina thought she heard Emma mutter something, but couldn't piece together the words to make a sentence. "Make yourself at home though."

"That," Emma grumbled as she pulled out the various containers from the Granny's brown bag, "is precisely the problem."

"That you're making yourself at home in the Mayor's office?" Regina stepped out from behind the desk, out of her heals and knelt besides the coffee table, hurriedly placing napkins under the containers as Emma continued fussing around with the food. "How many of us are having lunch?"

"I didn't know what I wanted." Emma shrugged as she tore a grilled cheese sandwich in half and dipped it in a portion of chilli fries.

"So you ordered everything?" Regina questioned as she dentally picked at the chicken salad she had found amongst all the fried food. "What is the problem that you're eating?"

"I need an apartment-" as Emma gestured towards the stack of papers with her sandwich and spattered chilli across the rest of the food, table and parts of the immaculately white carpet. "That's now an additional problem." Regina sighed at the staining chilli and lifted her hand, Emma caught her looking at the bird picture on the far wall and then saw her hand drop back to her side. "Okay, now I'm back to just the apartment problem." She managed half a smile.

"Why the sudden urgency?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm over 30? And-"

"If you dip chilli fry in that frosting you will be left alone to your problem." Regina scolded as Emma's fry hovered over a slice of chocolate cake.

She looked between the woman on the floor and the cake before acquiescing. She dropped the chilli fry in her mouth, leaving the cake unscathed.

"It was different when she was Mary Margaret."

"She's still Mary Margaret."

"No," she picked at an onion ring before offering the container to Regina, "she's my mother now."

"She was always your mother." Regina waved away the rings. "Its just that now she knows she's your mother."

"And she's trying to make up for 28 lost years by suffocating me in that tiny loft. Not to mention David and the crying baby. I swear to god," she pointed the onion ring she was holding back at Regina, "Brother knows exactly when its 3:27 and is watching the clock because it cannot be a coincidence that he has screamed the place down for the past four nights in a row at that specific time."

"Four nights?" Regina placed down her empty container and reached across the mess of Emma's food for her drink. "Let me get my violin back from Nero and I shall play for you." Emma moved the drink further out of reach. "What do you want me to do?"

"Magic up some real-estate within my price range? Give me a pay rise?"

"Your mother is now the mayor. I, however," she shifted from her position on the floor, "I have three empty bedrooms, two with en-suits." Regina brushed down her skirt as she stood. "Move in with Henry and I."

Emma didn't say anything.

She simply picked up the newspapers, headed to her boots and jacket and left Regina with the remains of lunch.

November

He found her lying the wrong way on her bed. Pillows propped against the metal bed frame supporting her back as she tossed a tennis ball against the wall.

"Grams asked me to get you stop that."

"I heard her." She nodded as the tennis ball went flying again.

"I'm meant to be the teenager." He chided her, intercepting the ball and taking it to his own bed. He mirrored her position but the slope of the ceiling meant that he could only pass the ball between his hands. "Everyone's happy that we've stayed but you." He eventually whispered out to her.

"I'm happy." Her voice didn't echo her words.

He turned his head and saw her looking back at him. "I may not have inherited your 'superpower' but I know when you're lying to me."

"Don't put it in air-quotes, kid, its a legitimate superpower."

The air was thick between them despite their plastic smiles.

Mary Margaret could be heard downstair issuing instructions to David as they prepared lunch. Do this. Do that. Not like that. Give it here. Just leave me to it. The baby babbling between them.

"Why don't you call me Henry?"

She bit back the reply on her tongue. Why don't you call me Mom?

The air was choking them now.

They'd both sunk down deeper onto their beds trying to reach the last of the oxygen before they suffocated completely.

"I didn't choose Henry for you." It was barely audible but she knew he'd heard it.

"This why you stopped coming to Friday Night Dinners?" He'd made it through the fog and was lying besides her now. All the better whispered confessions.

"I came to, like, four. Isn't that enough?"

"You came to six."

"We can't just play Happy Modern Family."

"I'm not asking you and Mom to get together. Besides," he nudged her ribs, hoping a smile would clear away the atmosphere, "I've seen Orange Is The New Black I know you would have only been 'gay for the stay.'"

She rolled onto her side to face him. "I'm cancelling Netflix."

"You watched it first." He complaint was almost a whine, betraying the act he'd been playing and showing him for the young age he remained.

"I also read the book. Its about prison reform. Not lesbianism." She rolled back over and started fishing around under the bed.

"What you doing now?"

"Looking for my Kindle."

"You want me to read the book?"

"I was in a minimal security juvenile detention unit for ten months." She was on the floor and under the bed completely now. He watched as she pulled out odd socks, dirty cups and what appeared to me the remains of a meal he didn't think they'd had since September. "Eight months of that I was pregnant. The last two I was in no state for a prison romance, fling, experime-"

"Mom-" He winced as she hit her head on the metal bed frame.

She crawled back out, a dusty Kindle her prize. "You haven't called me that since…"

"Since Mom kissed me at the docks." He finished sadly. Taking the device from her hand and helping her to her feet. "Its weird, you know?" She nodded back and sat down besides him. "She's my mom, you're my mom, but she raised me; but I have all these conflicting memories telling me that you raised me, that you didn't give me up…"

They were choking again.

"Cassidy." Her voice was a whisper again. "I would have called you Cassidy."

"Thats a-" whatever it was was cut off by a knock on the front door.

She got off and padded to the edge of the balcony. She found him next to her, his hand resting in the arch of her back. As they watched David cross the small room to receive the visitor, she was uncertain who which one of them was the parent and which was the child.

David revealed Regina standing holding a pumpkin pie.

"Grams invited her." Henry sounded nervous as he started rubbing circles on her back.

She was uncertain which one of them was the parent and which was the child.

"Aren't they all British?" She questioned him as the three down stairs exchanged Thanksgiving pleasantries. "Why are we doing this?"

"For you." He told her before heading downstairs to greet his mother.

She watched as she pulled him into an embrace and kissed the top of his hair. She watched as the boy let her, knowing that he would be too tall to do that to soon. She watched as the boy pulled her in closer knowing that he would be too tall soon too.

As Regina held her son to her, her eyes flickered up and met Emma's upstairs. They nodded their hellos before Emma broke their gaze to joined them in the living room.

"I was just asking the k- Henry- why we're doing this." The smile she was wearing wasn't meeting her eyes. She knew they could all see it too. She broke away and pulled her brother out of his highchair, putting a buffer between her and them. "I thought you three were British."

"Why are we British?" Mary Margaret questioned, going back into the kitchen, back to her turkey.

"Fortnight. Trousers." David started laughing to himself. "Courgette."

"You guys are from the past."

"And that makes us British?" Regina smiled finally letting Henry out of her grasp.

Emma merely shrugged. "Either way you wouldn't have had Thanksgiving."

"No," Mary Margaret nodded, pulling out an array of vegetables from the small oven, "Easter was the big thing we celebrated. And we had holidays around the harvests." She continued as David passed her dishes to serve into.

"St Valentines was always my favourite." He smiled kissing her on the cheek.

"I'm about to eat." Regina scolded him as Henry sat her down at the table.

"But whatever we are, you are certainly American and so-" she rounded the island, the turkey glistening proudly from its plate, "Thanksgiving."

Emma looked towards her son as she sat down opposite. Before she ducked her head she'd caught him mouth the words 'For you.'

A/N Let me know what you think, all feedback is always appreciated.

Many thanks, Circus