Author's Note: I've seen a few stories where Emma had twins and decided to write one of my own. I think this is a little bit different premise…at least from the other twin stories I've seen although there may be some I've missed. This starts during S3E12 New York City Serenade. All of seasons one – two happened and everything that happened in season three up until episode twelve happened. Henry's twin didn't grow up with Emma or Regina. She grew up a lot like Emma. As a result, she acts a lot more like Emma. This story will incorporate all of the characters from the show. I'm trying to keep everyone in character. Feedback on that would be helpful. I'm only on season three of the show. If you've been watching longer and think anyone is a little character, please let me know. I have a few chapters written and will continue if you guys like my take on this idea. Thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 1

Emma Swan skimmed through the file on the latest failure to appear. She was a bail bondsperson…AKA a bounty hunter. That meant that it was her job to apprehend fugitives who skipped out on bail.

Trey Gilbert, 41 year-old, Male, 5' 9, 170 lbs, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, arrested on charges of domestic violence, victim was wife Dawn Gilbert, no priors

The file had a copy of the police report, a copy of his mugshot, his last known address, the name and address of his employer, the names of all living relatives currently residing in New York and their addresses, and a short bio. A red-faced man with bloodshot eyes and a scruffy beard stared back at Emma from the mugshot. It looked like he was drunk...a mean drunk evidently.

Thirty-five minutes later Emma parked on the street across from a dingy single-family home in Bushwick with overgrown weeds in the front yard and peeling white paint on the house. It was one of the more rundown houses on a street full of rundown houses. It was also Trey Gilbert's house.

Emma got out of her car to take a look around. The blinds were shut tight, there were no lights on behind the blinds, and there were no signs of life in the house.

Emma knocked on the front door. She wasn't surprised when no one came to the door. She glanced around to make sure there weren't any nosy neighbors to witness the minor crime she was about to commit and then picked the lock.

Technically she was breaking and entering. But cops were generally more interested in arresting the criminal who had skipped bail than the bounty hunter who may have bent a few rules to find said fugitive for them.

That's what Emma was trying to do…find Trey. Even if he wasn't dumb enough to return home, she might find a clue as to where he was hiding in the house.

Emma slipped into the outdated kitchen. There were no dishes in the sink or dishwasher. The refrigerator was almost completely empty with the exception of a few bottles of beer and a half-empty carton of milk with a past-due expiration date. The trashcan wasn't empty. It was almost overflowing with candy bar wrappers and crumpled fast food bags, but there were no receipts to tell her how old the food was. It could have been from before Trey's arrest. She went through the drawers methodically and created a stack of mail and miscellaneous paperwork. She didn't have time to look through all of it now. She wanted to get in and out of the house she had entered semi-illegally before anyone noticed she was there, but she would take it with her so she could look at it later.

There wasn't anything of interest in the small living room. It only had a TV, a coffee table and a couch with cigarette burns in it.

Emma moved further into the house. There were two bedrooms. She went into the master bedroom first. There was still men's clothing hanging in the closet and folded in the dresser, but no women's clothing. It looked like Trey's wife had taken her things and left after the whole domestic violence incident.

The master bath was more of the same. There was no make-up on the counter or in the drawers. However, the men's toiletries were also sparse. There were no toothbrushes or tubes of toothpaste out. There was no shaver or razor.

It was entirely possible Trey had only taken the essentials and had just left some of his clothes behind. If that was the case, Emma would have to look elsewhere for the fugitive.

Emma checked the second bedroom on her way out. A lot of people used their spare room as a home office. She hoped she would find a computer she could take a look at. She didn't.

There was an unmade twin bed with a threadbare blanket in the second bedroom. A large ratty t-shirt was thrown haphazardly on the floor. Someone had clearly been sleeping in there. Why would Trey sleep in here when there was a perfectly good queen-sized bed in the master bedroom?

Before she could look in the closet or move to the bathroom to see if there were any men's toiletries out on the counter, Emma heard the front door open and slam shut.

Emma moved quickly to stand with her back pressed flat against the wall next to the bedroom door. From where she was standing, she would be able to see the person entering the spare room before they saw her. As she heard footsteps approaching, her right hand went for her handcuffs. She watched the doorway carefully out of the corner of her eye.

Emma was completely shocked when, instead of Trey or even Dawn, a girl that was just barely five feet tall and looked to be only a little older than her twelve year-old son walked in.

It was, in fact, hard to say which of the two occupants of the room was more shocked at that moment. Emma's jaw dropped open. The girl's eyes widened in shock and fear as she stumbled back a half step. They stared at each other for several seconds.

"Who are you?" Emma finally asked, finding her voice before the girl found hers.

The only response she got wasn't much of a response.

"Who are you?"

Emma arched an expectant eyebrow. "I asked you first."

"I actually live here. You don't."

"You live here?" Emma repeated, wondering if she had the wrong house. "I thought…I'm looking for Trey Gilbert."

The girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you a cop?"

Emma laughed at that. It was a short laugh that was half-snort, half-scoff. "No, I'm not a cop."

The girl eyed the handcuffs in Emma's pocket warily. "Are those just an accessory?"

"I'm a bail bondsperson," Emma explained.

"Like a bounty hunter?"

Emma inclined her head. "Exactly. Now who are you and what are you doing here? Last time I checked, this is Trey Gilbert's house and he doesn't have any kids."

The girl shifted uncomfortably. "He doesn't. He has a foster kid."

That hadn't been in Trey's file.

Emma would have wondered what kind of an idiot would give Trey Gilbert a foster kid if she hadn't been placed with plenty of foster parents who were just as bad as he was when she was in the system.

Emma studied the girl intently. She was skinny – too skinny. She was wearing a black bomber jacket over a snug white t-shirt, tight jeans with holes over the knees that looked like they were more from wear-and-tear than a fashion statement, and tattered sneakers. She had a black backpack that looked like it was bursting at the seams slung over her bony shoulders. Everything she owned was probably in that backpack. She had backed up and shifted subtly until she was strategically positioned in front of the door, poised to run if Emma scared her off.

The signs of neglect and fear were glaringly obvious to anyone who knew what to look for, but Emma couldn't tell just from looking at the girl whether Trey's violent tendencies extended toward her or if that honor was just reserved for his wife. If the girl had any bruises, they were hidden under her clothes.

Emma nodded sadly. "Your foster mom…Dawn?"

The girl shrugged. "She left the night he was arrested."

Emma was angry at this woman she didn't even know, who had left her foster daughter alone with her abusive husband. If Trey had gone back to the house where this little slip of a girl was instead of hiding out wherever the hell he was…

Emma tried to keep the anger out of her voice. "She didn't take you with her?"

"Why would she?"

The girl couldn't even fathom why her foster mom would do what any mother – actually any decent person – would do.

Emma sighed. "Your social worker should have moved you when Trey was arrested."

"To another shitty foster home? Or worse, a group home?" The girl said in a stone cold voice.

"So you've been staying here alone since that night?" Emma surmised.

"I can take care of myself," the girl said fiercely.

"Maybe you can now," Emma acknowledged. "But what will happen when you have to leave this house? You know you can't stay in an abandoned house forever. Where will you go?"

The girl's silence was answer enough. She didn't have anywhere to go.

"I was in your situation for sixteen years," Emma told the girl.

The girl looked surprised.

"I ran away from foster care twice…once when I was a little younger than you and I was in one of those shitty group homes." Emma let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I only lasted a few days on the streets before going back to the system."

"On purpose?"

Emma lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I was cold."

"Well, I'm not going back." The girl edged closer to the door, as if preparing to turn and run.

"Okay." Emma held her hands up, palms facing the girl in a universal gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to call Social Services or the cops."

If she called Social Services, Emma wouldn't be able to help the girl. And she wanted – no, needed - to help her. She didn't know why she felt like she had to help her. Maybe it was because the girl reminded her a little of herself at that age. Or maybe it was because the girl was about her son's age and even looked a little like Henry. It was her coloring - she had long brown hair that streamed past her shoulders and hazel eyes.

But the girl didn't look like she really believed Emma.

"It's Friday night. Social Services isn't even open until Monday morning. We both know you'd get an emergency placement for the weekend, and I'm not going to do that to you…I promise. " Emma took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't regret what she was about to do. "How about you come with me?"

The girl chewed on her lower lip as she considered.

"I have a son about your age." Emma scrolled through the pictures on her phone until she found a good one of her and Henry. In it, they were standing in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. She showed the girl the picture. "This is Henry."

The girl studied the picture.

"We're just going to order pizza and play video games tonight. Come on, it'll be fun," Emma said with a small, encouraging smile.

"Yeah…okay," the girl agreed hesitantly.

Emma walked closely behind the girl as they left the Gilbert's house just in case she decided to try to make a break for it. She nodded toward the yellow Volkswagen Bug. "That's my car."

When they were both in the car, Emma glanced at the girl to make sure her seatbelt was buckled. "So, kid, what's your name?"

The girl hesitated. "Mia."

Mia didn't give her last name. Emma was sure that was intentional. But that was okay. There had to be some record of the girl's existence somewhere in the paperwork she found in the Gilbert's kitchen.

"I'm Emma. Emma Swan," Emma told her as she pulled away from the curb.

Mia didn't know what possessed her to get in the car with a virtual stranger. She didn't exactly have a lot of other appealing options. She did not want to go to a group home. She hated to admit it - even just to herself - but she didn't think she'd survive on the streets. She had pickpocketed unwitting victims at the subway station to get a few bucks for small meals and stolen the random candy bar from a convenience store, but that was just about the extent of her criminal behavior. Her roommate during her short stint in a group home had been a runaway-turned-prostitute that was arrested and returned to the system by way of the group home. She shuddered at the thought of ever doing that. She knew she couldn't stay at the Gilbert's house now that this lady knew where she was…and even though the lady had acted like she had a choice, Mia knew she didn't really. The lady clearly wasn't going to leave her alone in the empty house.

Mia didn't really know anything about the lady…except that she'd broken into the Gilbert's house and carried handcuffs around. She said she wasn't a cop and Mia believed her. She didn't look like a cop. She was wearing a red leather jacket over a black top with jeans and boots. Mia had never seen a cop dressed like that.

The lady could be a serial killer, but Mia didn't think so. The boy that was with her in the picture she showed Mia was grinning crookedly. It was a natural smile, not forced for the camera. He looked like he was genuinely happy and well-cared for…not like he was being held captive by a crazy lady.

The lady seemed to understand the inner-workings of the system. She knew Mia would get an emergency placement, which was a nice way of saying a group home, if she called the cops or the after-hours line at Social Services on a Friday after 5:00. She hadn't said a word about Mia's language or disagreed with the sentiment when Mia referred to her foster home as shitty and group homes as even worse. She hadn't fed Mia any bullshit lines about finding a family. And there was just enough bitterness in her voice when she spoke of the system that Mia didn't think the lady was lying about being in the system. Only firsthand, real-life experience in the system could make someone that jaded.

That must be why the lady – Emma - was doing this. She knew what the system was like and she felt sorry for Mia.

Mia was quiet on the ride to Emma's apartment. Emma didn't try to get her to talk. In fact, Emma didn't say anything until she parked in the parking garage attached to her apartment building. "We're here."

Mia unbuckled her seatbelt, got out of the car, and grabbed her backpack. Emma was already out of the car waiting for her.

Emma stuck close to her as they walked into the apartment building from the garage and got in the elevator. It was like she thought Mia was going to bolt. Mia wasn't going to…at least not until Sunday night. That gave her two days to come up with some kind of a plan. She'd get out of there before Social Services opened on Monday.

The boy from the picture was sitting on a comfortable leather couch staring at the television screen with his hands curled tightly around a video game controller. He didn't look away from the screen until Emma spoke.

"Henry, this is Mia. She's going to be staying with us for a few days."

"Okay." Henry swiveled around to look at Mia. "Do you want to play?"

Mia let out the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. She'd been in homes where biological kids were none-too-pleased about sharing their homes or their parents with her. Henry didn't seem too worried about that.

"What is it?" Mia asked, not recognizing the game.

"Diablo," Henry answered.

"I don't know. I've never played it before," Mia admitted, approaching the couch tentatively.

"That's okay. We can play something else…like Mortal Kombat or Need for Speed," Henry suggested good-naturedly.

Mia shrugged. "Whatever you want to play is fine. It's your game."

"I vote for Mortal Kombat," Emma called from the kitchen.

Henry frowned. "You're playing? Don't you need to get ready?"

"Ready for what?" Emma asked.

"Your date with Walsh," Henry reminded her.

"Oh, crap, I forgot," Emma muttered. "Change of plans. I'm not going out with Walsh tonight."

"You have to go!" Henry told her. "Come on, Mom…first date restaurant…special night out…"

"You don't have to miss your date for me," Mia said, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"It's okay. The restaurant will still be there tomorrow," Emma said.

Yeah, Emma definitely thought Mia would run out on her. Mia was used to adults not trusting her, but it still bothered her…even if technically she was planning to take off…just not that night.

"Poor Walsh," Henry muttered.

"We'll reschedule," Emma said defensively.

Henry shook his head. "It won't be the same."

"What kind of pizza do you like, Mia?" Emma asked loudly, changing the subject.

"Whatever you guys usually get is fine," Mia said quietly.

Emma ordered a large cheese pizza and then stepped out of the common area and into her bedroom…probably to call her boyfriend.

"Walsh was going to propose tonight," Henry said grudgingly.

Mia's eyes got big and round. She winced. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Henry admitted with a sigh. "Not really. I think she knew he was going to propose and it scared her."

Mia raised her eyebrows. "It sounds like you like him more than Emma – uh, your mom does."

"That's not true," Henry protested. "She just thinks every guy is like my dad. He left her…us…only he didn't know about me."

Mia knew she should feel bad for him, but it was hard to feel too badly for him when he had a mom like Emma and Mia didn't have anyone.

"That's like me…only both of my parents left me," Mia said. "And my mom kind of had to know about me."

Henry blinked. "Oh…is that why you're staying with us?"

Mia nodded dully. "Your mom's going to call Social Services on Monday. That's what she said anyway. She promised not to call this weekend."

Mia regarded the door Emma had disappeared behind with suspicion. It had been several minutes. She thought Emma was probably calling her boyfriend, but what if she was calling the cops or the after-hours line for Social Services? Oh, shit…

"If that's what she said, she meant it. My mom always keeps her promises," Henry assured her.

Author's Note: As you can probably guess, Mia is Emma's daughter and Henry's sister. Just to clarify, Emma does not know that yet. She doesn't even remember that she had twins. She has the memories Regina gave her, and Regina didn't know Henry was a twin.