Chapter Text
To say that Henrietta Mills had prepared for this day would be both an under and overstatement. Henrietta had spent quite some time practicing breathing exercises while pacing. So, if hyperventilating counts as preparation, then yes, Henrietta is absolutely prepared.
Unfortunately, her therapist does not count hyperventilation as productivity, in fact stating that such activity is “a danger to her health”. But her therapist is also a cricket so who really knows for sure.
Which leaves her in her current situation. Setting off the plot of the show she got reincarnated into. I.e. standing in front of her birth mother’s apartment door in Boston. Looking down the hallway Henrietta contemplates just leaving. She could just not do it. Maybe leave it to fate. The plot was surely going to happen regardless so did it really matter if she was the one to do it? And if it didn’t then would it really affect her? Only eight more years and then she could go off to college and never return. Ignore Regina’s phone calls and the unfortunate fate of the residents of Storybrooke and just move to Guatemala.
Who needs a conscious anyway? Certainly not Henrietta. She has her cricket therapist to do that for her! Who even lets a cricket become a therapist? There is no way he has any possible qualifications! Why are all these random animals in the storybook human now anyway? What differentiates Cinderella’s rats from any other rat in the enchanted forest? And now one of them gets to be the town mechanic? Where the fuck did any of the planning go into this Regina?
These were the types of questions she found herself asking herself. With the main one being -
Could Henrietta really deal with another 8 years of this crap?
Hell no.
In an attempt to stop the spiraling thoughts that were starting to overwhelm her, Henrietta impulsively knocks on the door, moving her body before any of her reservations can prevent the action. Which of course immediately sets off her inner panicking.
Oh god she could hear steps from inside. Oh god what if this wasn’t even the right apartment? Oh god what was she even going to say if it was? She certainly doesn’t remember what OG Henry said. How does she even start with the mess that is her life? Hi! I’m the child you gave up and cursed to a life of Disney cash grab bullshit. Would you like to come back with me to my fucked up little town where no one ever ages and the gas prices are the same as in 1983? Actually, when you think about it like that it doesn’t sound that bad. The gas prices alone would be enough for her if she was still in the year 2024 and could actually drive.
But right now, she is 10 years old, and the door is opening. Too late for the tropics now.
If there is something to be thankful about it is that the door opened inwards. A minor thing to hold onto, but it was about the only thing that was going her way in this entire interaction.
To begin the trainwreck, Henrietta quickly realized that the issue with impulsive actions is the lack of prepared action following. The result being that she still has no clue what to say when faced with the person behind the door.
The woman had long blonde princess curls. Her pink lipstick didn’t quite match the salmon dress she was wearing. Smudged mascara and dark eyeshadow accentuated the hazel eyes glancing around the hallway. Her face fell to a confused expression as she looked down at Henrietta. Blinking in surprise she leaned on the doorway, lowering herself slightly. “Umm… Can I help you?”
A simple question that should have been responded with any of the millions of sentences Henrietta had thought on the bus ride over. Instead, what is blurted out is nothing she wanted to say and everything that promptly sets off her internal screaming.
“Yes?”
Never mind. Screw the curse. Guatemala it is.
Unfortunately, her birth mother did not immediately close the door on her. Instead, she furrowed her brow in concern. Henrietta’s grip on her book tightens in an attempt to gather her nerves.
“Ok? Do you need some help finding the right apartment?” The woman questioned.
“No?”
Why? Why is she like this? Henrietta can feel her face turning red from the blood rising to her head in sheer embarrassment.
The fact that the woman did not take the out when she had it probably says some good things about her. Or her qualifications to be the so-called Savior. Henrietta cannot really appreciate it at the moment though, as she is currently wishing for a piano to fall on her and end her misery. The blonde looked into the hallway over Henrietta like she was hoping for some other person to appear and make this strange lost child not her problem. Unfortunately for Emma her break from the problem that is Henrietta is now over. And things are about to get a lot worse. For the both of them.
Yeah, this is the moment Henrietta starts crying.
The four-hour drive with her birth mother currently rated number four in her current life’s most awkward experiences. Number one obviously being the doorway fiasco. Ending up in tears was not her best strategy. And it resulted in probably the worst first impression Henrietta has ever given in two entire lifetimes.
Number two is the 20 minutes following where she found herself in Emma’s apartment trying to stop her breakdown and Emma’s panic. As well as Emma’s attempts to call the police. Henrietta was eventually able to get out the questions she needed to ask to get Emma to affirm that she actually was indeed the mother she was looking for. At the very least no cops were called, and minimal emotional blackmail was used to convince Emma to take her back to Storybrooke. The only reason it wasn’t ranked number one is thanks to the juice Henrietta got out of it.
The now demoted number three on the rankings is the entire first day of school in her first grade. When she realized that hey, none of those children you just spent a year with as classmates and friends in kindergarten remember you. The entire experience of aging an entire year while everyone else didn’t was incredibly distressful for her. Mainly thanks to Regina’s heavy attempt at gaslighting and the lack of support from literally anyone else in the entire town. That was also the same day the sheer frustration she felt broke through the barriers of life and death. Resulting in her recalling her past life. The justification came far too late to erase any of the embarrassment and awkwardness she had already felt though.
So now she was onto number four.
While the car ride is certainly easier to deal with than the bus ride to Boston, number five respectively, thanks to there being only one (technically if not actually) concerned mother involved. The sheer length of stifling silence boosted the ranking. At least on the bus she could pop in her headphones and pretend she wasn’t a ten-year-old about to confront her birth mother and attempt to convince said birth mother to come back to her wackjob hometown to break a fairytale curse. Instead, she could just vibe to the tunes of the 2000s. God she couldn’t wait until 2020. Most of her favorite artists haven’t even graduated middle school yet. Let alone started releasing music.
Truly her favorite thing she owns would have to be her mp3 player. Even above the Storybook. Getting it gifted to her on Christmas from Regina was almost enough to make Henrietta forgive the fact that she was holding an entire town’s worth of people hostage. Almost.
Regrettably this was not a situation that she could use it. Thankfully Emma eventually decides to break the suffocating silence.
“I’m guessing your parents don’t know you came to find me.”
Henrietta looks up at Emma, finally breaking her gaze from the same passage of the Storybook she has been staring at for the past thirty minutes.
“It’s just my mom. And no, she doesn’t.”
Emma glances over with a raised brow. She then takes a moment as if not completely sure how to say her next words.
“So, your mom?” she tentatively asks with an implied ‘Is everything ok at home?’.
Henrietta’s grip tightens on her book. Mixed feelings flooding her. It would be a lie to say she didn’t love Regina. She was her mom. How could she not? And Henrietta had enough awareness to know that her mom truly loves her (does she?) and always tries to do what she thinks is best for her. Which is what worries her. Thanks to the book and her past life she knows the truth of what is happening. But if she didn’t? Her mother already constantly attempts to gaslight her about what is happening in Storybrooke. As if the fact that no one is aging or changing in any way is all in Henrietta’s head.
But what will happen when Henrietta gets older? When she is fifteen? Let alone eighteen? Will Regina reveal the truth? Or will she continue trying to convince Henrietta that she is crazy? Regina already has her in therapy. Who knows how things will continue to develop. The psych ward prison under the hospital isn’t exactly where Henrietta wants to end up. Hence why she is here. Kickstarting a soap opera. Because the alternatives are either the continuous decline of her mental health or running away. And god knows which would come first.
But to answer Emma’s question, Henrietta’s mother is a very complicated woman who she loved but also desperately wished didn’t put her into the situation of living in a horror story. So, all Henrietta can really say is –
“She’s fine.”
Henrietta pointedly turns the page of her book and pretends not to see the concerned glance Emma gives her after that elongated pause. The car returns to the awkward silence it had been filled with for the past couple of hours.
Eventually Emma asks her another question. The question really.
“What are you reading?”
“It’s a book of fairytales.”
She traces her fingers along the edges of the hard cover. The book was bound well. After a year of constant rereading, it still didn’t have any noticeable indentation. Impressive for a book of its size.
“Fairytales?” Emma gives off a tone of disinterest.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m just not too interested in princesses. I prefer my stories a bit more… grounded.”
“They are grounded. Everything in here is true.”
Emma gives the same look all adults give when humoring a child. The one of ‘Sure kid’. Hetta turns to look out the window. Knowing that it’s going to take a while for her mother to become the savior. Outside the window she sees the approaching ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign. She practically feels the weight of the town settle back over her.