Friday, October 30th, 2009

     I had to order a pattern for a knight’s costume to be delivered. There’s not a lot of demand from little boys in town to dress up as knights, just as there’s not a lot of demand from little girls to dress up as princesses. I don’t know if that’s due to the curse or just the leanings of the children here, but I’m sure that’s how it is everywhere else, too.

     I decided to have his costume made by someone else, this time, for the sake of convenience. We took it over to some seamstresses who must have been mice or birds back home, because the ladies chirped and tittered with their shrill voices over Henry and how great his costume would look. I was not looking forward to hearing their voices again a few days later, when we had to go back for the final fitting. The women fluttered around my costumed son. He beamed at me while quick fingers lifted his costume here and pinched it there.

     The costume itself was very basic. It just looked like chainmail and a tunic. That would never protect a soldier for long. I suggested we add a helmet at least, and add a plume to the top.

     “That’s not practical, mom.” Henry rolled his eyes.

     “But it would be intimidating.” I looked to the seamstresses for encouragement. A couple of them nodded and splayed their fingers over his head to mimic what I was suggesting. “A big, black plume on top of your helmet would make a statement.”

     “No, it wouldn’t. That would just look silly.”

     I didn’t remember anyone laughing at my soldiers when they made an entrance, but this was Henry’s idea of a knight, so I held my tongue. The ladies put their hands down and went back to work.

     Henry’s costume was ready the following day. He was so excited for the field trip, but I haven’t shared his enthusiasm. I’ve had a bad feeling about this field trip, and I keep having those same nightmares..

     Finally, today arrived. Miss Blanchard’s class gathered at the school to board the bus before the sun was even up, since the show aired at seven. All of the students were full of energy and in their costumes as the bus made its way to Storybrooke One, while the parents were chugging coffee and wondering how the children’s energy was even possible. We reached the studio in no time, and our hoard of monsters and other characters went inside. Waiting for us was someone familiar to everyone’s morning.

     “Hi, kids!” The pleasant woman waved to the children in her smart attire. “Welcome to ‘Good Morning, Storybrooke’! My name is Goldie Locksley, and I’m one of the co-anchors for the show. Are you excited to be here?” The children cheered. “Let’s save some energy for the show, okay?” Goldie spoke with the enthusiasm of telling a story to very small children. “Do we have any future correspondents for our show here, today?” A few kids shot their hands up in the air. “Well, you’ll have to work hard and you’ll have to be patient. I used to be the weather girl, but I was just promoted because the last anchorwoman died.” Goldie probably shouldn’t have ended that with a smile, but she did.

     “But you’ve always been the co-anchor.” Henry piped up. “I’ve seen you on the show ever since I was little.”

     I instinctively reached out to stop him from talking, but I held back. Let him go on, I thought.

     Goldie looked confused for a second, but recovered quickly. She lifted her head and spoke to the parent-chaperones. “Kids, right? Anytime before right now is when they were little!”

     All of the parents laughed and nodded.

     “What’s your name, sir knight?” Goldie pointed to Henry.

     “Henry.” He said, no longer impressed.

     “Well, Sir Henry, do I have a surprise for you! Everyone, would you like to meet my co-anchor, Hart Archer?”

     Most of the students—and some of the parents—were thrilled at this idea. So Goldie led us all to the make-up department. Hart was sitting in front of a mirror with tissue tucked into his collar. He turned to all of us.

     “Good morning, Storybrooke Elementary students!” Hart greeted us just like he was introducing the show. Everyone loved it, except Goldie, who sighed and was clearly jealous of his ability to work the show title in his greeting. “Ready to watch us do the show?” Everyone cheered. “Well, for the last segment, you’ll be on the show with us! Are you excited?” The children screamed. Hart was clearly not prepared for this. He looked like he was about to jump out of his make-up chair before Miss Blanchard took over and calmed the children down. Everyone finally quieted as a man with a headset over his ears and a cup of coffee in each hand walked up to them.

     “Everybody say hi to Steve.” Goldie took one of the cups from him. Steve waved at us as soon as Hart took the other. “Steve will let you know when to come up to the desk with us, okay?” She took a sip of her drink and made a face before handing it back to him. “Steve, this latte is too cold. You know I can’t drink this. And yesterday, it was too hot.”

     “Nothing’s good enough for you.” The tone of his voice, slumped shoulders and puppy dog eyes suggested he was talking about more than just the coffee. He whispered, loudly and very ineffectively, “And no one.”

     “Now is not the time, Steve.” Goldie spoke in a lower voice and out of the side of her mouth. She looked at a watch on her wrist that wasn’t there and spoke in her on-camera voice. “Wow, everyone, it’s time to go to set!”

     Hart and Goldie left us, and Steve escorted us all to the set. It was much smaller than it looks on TV. The desk, the reading area and the kitchen were all on the same stage. There was no place for the children to sit, so we stood behind the cameras. The view was not good, and the students fidgeted and complained, but Steve got them all to calm down and be quiet for the show.

     The show progressed quickly, and soon it was the final commercial break. The students were rushed on set and placed in front of the anchor desk. Goldie and Hart got up from their chairs and came around to the children. The two of them were all smiles as the break ended and the music came back on.

     “Here are some students from Storybrooke Elementary in their scary costumes for Halloween!” Hart told the cameras. He bent down to a little cowboy. “What’s your name, pardner?”

     “Sam.” Henry’s first friend was almost too quiet. Steve passed Hart a microphone.

     “I reckon you’re supposed to be a cowboy, Sam?”

     “Yes, Mr. Archer.” All of the adults “awwed”.

     “What grade are you in?”

     “Kindergarten.”

     “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

     “A first-grader.” The cuteness was almost too much for even me.

     “Well I think you’ll just have to wait another year for that, buckaroo!”

     “He won’t be in the first grade.” Henry spoke up. Everyone turned, not expecting him to speak yet. “He’ll be in kindergarten again, just like he has been every year.”

     “Stop picking on him.” A taller boy stepped forward and stood up to, or rather, over, Henry.

     “I’m not picking on him, I’m telling the truth.” His words made my pulse race. He looked straight up at the boy. “He’s never leaving kindergarten, just like you’re never getting past the sixth grade.”

     The boy didn’t look confused like Goldie did earlier. His response was just to hit him.

     Henry fell to the floor and the anchors stood back. I wanted to rush to him but felt dizzy. For the first time in years I actually reached in my pocket for Daniel’s coin. I didn’t have to look at it, thank goodness, and the swaying subsided. Henry stood back up and hit the boy back, and the two boys fell into a brawl. Everyone on the set rushed to tear them apart. Two burly camera men picked up the boys and separated them. Henry was furious. He was kicking and shouting “None of this is real!” One man was still standing behind his camera and got every second of this. I ran over and ordered him to turn it off before rushing to my son. The field trip and the show were over for today.



Thursday, October 1st, 2009

     I had the stupidest dream last night.

     I was walking in the woods and came across a pit in the ground. It was well worn and looked like it was dug years ago. The top of a ladder was poking out of the top of the hole. I didn’t want to look inside, but I found myself walking closer. I peered over the edge, but there was nothing down there. Then I heard laughter behind me and a tap on my shoulder, but when I turned to see who it was, I woke up.

     I spoke with Dr. Hopper today, and I’m going to do something I swore I’d never do: I’m going to indulge Henry. Not to say I don’t. Henry always gets what he wants, almost. I certainly haven’t raised a spoiled brat, but he isn’t wanting, either. Still, there’s one area I stay away from.

     The inevitable came soon enough. I remember when Henry came home from his first day of first grade. He was crying. He’d never been so sad.

     “What’s wrong, my love?” I bent down and dried his tears.

     “Sam’s not in my class this year.” He didn’t want to look at me. “He’s still in kindergarten.”

     Sam and Henry were inseparable. They did everything together.

     “Well, you must be very smart to advance to the next grade.”

     “I don’t want to be smart.” He tore away from me and stomped on each word. “I! Want! My! Best! Friend!”

     “You can still be best friends with Sam.” I followed him.

     “But it won’t be the same!”

     “No, but you can make new friends too.”

     “I don’t want new friends!”

     Henry was right, his friendship with Sam was never the same, but I was right, too, and he made new friends in his new class. But then second grade began and not only were his first grade friends still in first grade, but Sam was still in kindergarten. Explaining that one to him was a bit more difficult. That’s when I called a meeting with the school board and integrated the grades in Storybrooke elementary. His questions eased about being the only student to advance at the school, but there have still been other problems.

     I know I remembered everything after that forgetting charm broke, but I was still never certain of Henry’s parentage. There’s still a chance he may not even be the savior’s child. There were once tons of magic beans back home. It’s entirely possible that someone came over hundreds of years ago and he’s descended from that person. So what if Dr. Mercer said he’s never seen that marker-thing before? He couldn’t have tested everyone in the world, could he?

     Even so, it’s still very hard to not think that maybe he could be the son of the savior. I remember later, the same year he was sick, when Halloween was getting closer. It would be the first Halloween when Henry would really comprehend what dressing up and trick-or-treating was all about.

     “What would you like to dress up as, this year?”

     “I want to be a knight!”

     I just couldn’t bring myself to allow that. What if I let him go as a knight and something clicked in his head? What if he figured out who gave birth to him and then he doesn’t want me as his mother?

     So that year, he was the saddest cowboy ever. The next year, his desire to be a knight hadn’t wavered, so he was the saddest astronaut ever. And each year after that, our ritual of desiring and denying continued. Halloweens found his as the most grievous ghost ever, the bleakest blood-sucker ever, the most pitiful pirate ever, and the most remorseful robot ever.

     This approaching holiday is proving no different. Henry is being extra nice and is begging me every day to be a knight. I need to prevent him from wanting to do this, and that’s what brought Henry and me to Dr. Hopper’s office. I didn’t tell Henry that was the reason, of course. Dr. Hopper did a full evaluation on Henry. The next day, I visited the doctor by myself to hear the results. Dr. Hopper’s conclusion was that my son was a normal boy with a healthy imagination. He questioned me when he saw I was dissatisfied with his results, so I told him about his idea for a Halloween costume. I gave false reasons for not wanting him to dress as a knight, but for each one I gave, Dr. Hopper had a sensible response that made each one sound silly.

     “Regina,” Dr. Hopper leaned forward in his chair when he knew I was out of answers. “You only get a very small window where a child is a child. Why not let him dress up as a knight just once, before he doesn’t want to dress up at all?”

     Tears actually welled up in my eyes. The doctor had hit on a truth. Henry was getting older and would always get older, even if he was smart enough to see that the other children would not. I wiped my tears away and nodded in resolution to Dr. Hopper’s reasoning. When I went home and told Henry I’d decided to let him be a knight for Halloween, he was so excited that he danced around his room.

     When it was time for dinner, Henry ran downstairs with a note from Miss Blanchard.

     “I forgot to tell you!” He handed me the letter and told me what it said before I could read it. “Our class is going on a field trip to the television station the day before Halloween, and we get to be on Good Morning, Storybrooke! You need to sign it so I can go.”

     “How long have you had this note?”

     “A month, I think. Tomorrow’s the last day to turn it in.” His eyes were shifty. Henry always waited until the last minute on things like this. “I didn’t want to go before, but now that I get to be a knight, I want to. Can I, please?”

     I read the permission slip from top to bottom. “This note says they’re looking for parent chaperones, as well. I’ll ask Miss Blanchard if it’s not too late to come.”

     “Aw, mom!”

     “I won’t interfere with anything.” I put the letter down and held my hands up in front of me. “But if my son’s going to be on TV and I have a chance to be there, I’m taking it.”

     It took a moment, but once Henry realized I said he could go, he gave me a big hug.  

Sunday, March 21st, 2004

     Dr. Mercer would certainly check out of Granny’s Bed and Breakfast as soon as he could. And if he was as bad as Dr. Whale made him out to be, he may even try to leave earlier. I had planned on confronting him in the morning, but considering this, I left the hospital. Henry was sleeping soundly on his own and there were plenty of attendants to watch him.

     The doctor had checked out sooner than I had anticipated. Both Granny and Ruby noted how little they’d seen of him since Mr. Campbell had brought him into town and lent him his clothes. I left quickly, with one idea where he might be. Pulling up to my house, I saw that I was right.

     My front door was slightly open. I stepped inside without making a sound and reached through the panel by the door for my broadsword. At the base of my staircase was a bag full of apples from my tree. Shoe prints made of crumbly soil went all the way up the white carpet on my stairs. They faded on their way to my room. Peeking inside, I saw my open diary on my bed. I led with my sword and looked all the way in. Dr. Mercer was too occupied looking at the small wooden chest that held Graham’s heart to see me.

     I could have run him through before he had a chance to respond, but instead I hid the sword behind the door.

     “How fortunate to find you here, doctor.” My words made him jump away from the chest. “There was no symposium in Boston, was there? And no one you had to call to prevent them from bothering you while you were here?”

     “No.” He stood still. “You’ve found me out, then?”

     “I’ve heard things. But it’s not every day a credible doctor breaks into my house.”

     “And I don’t suppose anyone knows you’re here?” He took a few steps toward me, but stopped and held his hands in front of him when I drew my sword. “Are you going to run me through, your majesty?” He nodded behind him to my diary. “I’ve read things.”

     “That’s just something I write for fun. It isn’t real.”

     “It’s the first thing that rings truth around here. But I know when I’m beaten. I’ll be happy to leave.”

     “I can’t let you do that.” I lowered my sword and leaned it against the wall, which made him relax a little.

     “Are you going to call your sheriff on me? I can’t be arrested. Do you know what they’ll do to me?”

     “You don’t understand.” I walked right up to him. “You saved my son. I want to help you.” I touched his cheek with one hand and pulled him in for a kiss. He responded immediately and put his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him.

     “Do you want to go to the bed?”

     “Not yet. Come with me.” I took him down to the kitchen and turned on the lights. He was still wearing Kurt’s shirt. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

     “Do you have anything harder?”

      I reached in my cabinet and pulled out the tall scotch bottle with the red label with the “60” on it. With two glasses in my other hand, I led him into my living room. We sat opposite each other on two sofas and I handed him the open bottle across my coffee table

     “I can’t believe I’m about to ask this—are you aliens?” He passed the bottle to me after filling his glass a third full.

     I poured myself a similar amount and took a sip. “Well, we’re not Portuguese.”

     He swallowed his scotch in one gulp. I looked down at his glass and then in his eyes.

     “I’m sure it’s a lot to take in.” I said.

     “So, there’s magic here?”

     “There was.”

     “Not anymore?”

     “I can still do some things that aren’t normal for this world,” I sat my glass down. “But that’s not important right now.”

     Dr. Mercer sat his glass aside. “Why did you say you want to help me?”

     “Why were you stealing my apples?”

     “You can’t just bring a plague on a plane safely. But with waking fever, I now have a cause and a cure. There are things that need to be tested, but I can do that. I can own the third world.”

     “Why not the whole world?” Every time I said something, he inhaled deeply like I was making him forget to breathe. I think he was only used to me being in a situation I couldn’t control.

     “It’s too risky.” He exhaled.

     “Not if Storybrooke is your home. No one can enter unless someone from here helps you in.” I ran my finger around the top of my glass. “Should I get rid of my tree?”

     Dr. Mercer placed his hand on top of mine. “Not if we’re going to take over the world.”

     I stopped tracing the glass and turned my hand so I was holding his. He pulled me around the table onto his lap and kissed me.

     “How did you figure out we’re not from this world?” I asked before moving from kissing his lips to his neck.

     “That blood test I did revealed a marker I’d never seen before.” He shivered. His neck was a good spot. “I named it the C marker.”

     “Would that explain why no one else was infected?”

     “It could. Everyone I tested had the marker except for Dr. Whale and Mr. Campbell.”

     “And Henry.”

     “No, Henry had it,” his words made me pull back. Dr. Mercer stroked my back with both hands, “but his was different. So I classified everyone else’s as C Positive. That could explain—“

     “Henry can’t have the marker. He’s adopted.” I didn’t know whether to laugh at him or be angry.

     “Well he’s got it.” He shrugged. “Do you think there are more of you running around out there?”

     I don’t think I’ve mentioned what happens when the power of a forgetting charm wears off. The emotion the charm erased is magnified tenfold. If it’s a happy memory, you will be elated. If the memory is sad, you will be distraught. If the memory makes you angry, you will be in a rage. Granted, the rage will only last a few minutes before you become aware of the present. But hope that no one is close enough to you while you’re back in that moment.

     There was no hope for Dr. Mercer. As soon as he said what he said, everything came back to me about Henry’s adoption—and he was the one who made me remember! It didn’t even take me a few minutes to rip out his heart and crush it in my hand. He was dead in less than thirty seconds.

     When I calmed down, I realized where Henry came from wasn’t important. My son is as safe as he can be and has a mother who loves him. Only now I was sitting on the lap of a dead man—and there was sand on my couch. But I knew what to do. I went upstairs and grabbed the chest with Graham’s heart. I opened the lid.

     “You will come here and help me remove Dr. Mercer’s body from my house. Then you will bury him in the woods. Then you will go home and forget about all of this. All you’ll know is Dr. Mercer left Storybrooke.”

     Within minutes, Graham was at my door. He loaded Dr. Mercer in his car. I rode with him into the woods and watched him bury the doctor. My desire to take over this world was buried with him.  We didn’t get back to my house until the sky was beginning to lighten.

     “It’s too bad Dr. Mercer had to leave Storybrooke.” He said as we reached my porch.

     “It is, Sheriff.” I waved goodbye and went inside. There was the doctor’s travel bag by the stairs. Beneath the apples and passport with a false name was a journal. I opened it and found hand-written notes by him of his progress with waking fever. There were records of blood types of all the people he tested. Most people had a C+ beside their “A”, “B”, “AB” or “O”. I flipped the pages until I found my son at the bottom of the list.

MILLS, HENRY    O+ / C-

Saturday, March 20th, 2004

     My son’s awake! Henry’s healthy and his fever is gone! Dr. Mercer really has done a miracle. It took a few days since he was treated, but he’s fine and so are Dr. Whale and Mr. Campbell.

     Previously, I’d allowed the doctor to come to my house to see my tree. He paced around it, examined the leaves and felt the ground with latex gloves covering his hands. After about an hour of this, he took some of my apples, leaves and scraped off a small piece of the trunk. Then he went back to the hospital. He didn’t speak to me again for four very long days.

     He called me before I’d left for work and I was at the hospital in minutes. Dr. Mercer brought me into his lab. It was actually Dr. Whale’s lab, but it was the best lab with the best equipment. And since Dr. Whale was unable to use it, it made sense to everyone on the hospital staff that he should. The doctor took me over to a microscope and had me look into it. I saw hundreds of little spider-like creatures. He said this was a very small slice of an apple from my tree, and there were probably millions of them on all of my apples. I had to take a step back.

     “So I gave my son waking fever?”

     “Not intentionally.” He sat back on a metal stool at the other end of the counter.

     “But he’s eaten apples from my tree before. How come he didn’t get sick then?”

     “I don’t know. If I had more time to study this, I may be able to find out why, but right now my job is to make your son and the other two men well.”

     It was still upsetting. How could I not have known? Intentional or not, it really was my fault Henry was hospitalized. Kurt probably had waking fever before I turned him into Mr. Campbell. Probably after I had him over for dinner all those years ago; he just wasn’t showing symptoms when I put the stasis charm on him. That also meant that Owen may have contracted the fever as well. A pang of guilt hit me and I wondered if he was even still alive.

     “But I’ve never heard of this tree causing it back home.”

     “Oh, you’re not from here?”

     “Well—technically, I’m—Portuguese.” That was far away. I was sure he hadn’t been there. “My family moved here when I was very little. They—brought the tree here.”

     “I’ve never heard of anything like waking fever occurring in Portugal.”

     “We were from a very small village. Hardly anyone’s heard of it—most Portuguese don’t know it’s there.”

     “Eu nao acredito em voce.” Bluff called.

       “Enough about me.” My dodge made him smile.

     “It’s possible that the organism that causes waking fever came from other sources, but perhaps when your family left Portugal, the organisms attached themselves to the apples of the tree. But I discovered the organisms aren’t on the leaves at all.” He rose from his stool and walked over with a glass dropper. “Look what happens when I add liquid from the leaves in with the apple.”

     He held the dropper over the slide and squeezed twice. When I looked into the microscope again, the little spiders wiggled and shrank away to nothing.

     “Come with me.” He grabbed a syringe and headed straight for Henry’s room. He was faster than me, and I didn’t even have a chance to voice my concern before he walked up to Henry’s bed and stuck the syringe in his arm. The potion was gone from the syringe in a second.

     “How do you know it will work on people?!”

     “It does.”

     “Then why didn’t you try it on Mr. Campbell or Dr. Whale first?”

     “I did.” He held a gloved hand to the door. “Go and check on Dr. Whale.”

     I didn’t want to leave my son, but Dr. Mercer led me to the room next door. He let me enter first. Dr. Whale was sitting up in his bed, calmly sipping a large plastic cup of water through a straw and watching Good Morning, Storybrooke on the TV on the wall in front of him. My gasp and cry of joy interrupted Dr. Whale from his sipping and pulled him away from his straw.

     “I can’t say as I’ve ever heard a woman be so happy to see me.” Dr. Whale sat his cup down. “Good morning, Mayor Mills.”

     “Good morning.” I couldn’t stop smiling or crying. “I’m just so happy, because if you’re healed, then my son will be too!”

     “That is good news.” He looked past me. “Who is my mysterious healer?”

     “May I introduce you to Dr. Mercer?” I held out my hands as Dr. Mercer stepped forward.

     Dr. Whale’s eyes grew wide, and I thought I detected Dr. Mercer pulling back. But then Dr. Whale’s surprised face eased into a smile and he held out his hand.

     “Pleased to meet you, doctor. Thank you for saving our lives.”

     This seemed to put Dr. Mercer at ease again, and the two shook hands. There was some small talk between the two about how Dr. Mercer figured it out before he left to get some sleep. Dr. Whale stopped me before I could leave as well.

     “How did you find him?”

     “On the internet.” I wiped my tears away with the heel of my hand and they finally stayed away. “Well, Kathryn did. It’s lucky we caught him. He was just returning from another country for a symposium in Boston. For a moment I thought you knew him.”

     “I do. Not personally, but I’ve also read about him on the internet. Although I think not the same article Kathryn did. I can’t stress this enough, but he should leave as soon as possible. Or better, get the sheriff and have him questioned.”

     “Why?”

     “There’s a reason he flew in from another country. He’s not allowed to practice here. His methods are shady, at best. He’s brilliant but careless.  He was stripped of his doctorate here in the U.S., but that doesn’t stop him from practicing in other countries that might look away from that sort of thing. It’s true that he has saved many lives, but a great many more are usually lost before he’s through.”

     “If he’s so terrible, how come he hasn’t been caught?”

     “There’s never been any conclusive evidence that he’s caused the death of so many people. But I would be worried about the lives of the people in this town.”

     “Do you think Henry’s in trouble?” I turned to go kill him.

     “No—“ Dr. Whale reached out his hand to stop me. “If I’m all right, Henry should be too. But my guess is he won’t be staying much longer. You need to do something.”

     He was right, and I already know what I want to do.

Friday, March 12th, 2004

     It wasn’t until this morning that Mr. Campbell returned with Dr. Miracle, whose real name was Dr. Mercer. The doctor entered Henry’s room before Mr. Campbell as though he knew his way through any hospital. Mr. Campbell, who was now clean-shaven and in a fine grey suit, stood back as Dr. Mercer introduced himself. He looked uncomfortable in his new clothes and pulled at his shirt collar. Dr. Mercer shook hands first with me and then with Graham, who was keeping me company. He looked Henry over.

     “When do we start?” I admit that was a little presumptuous of me.

     “I will start immediately.” He clearly thought it was, too. “You will go home or to work and wait for my call.”

     “I will not!”

     “Madam, please excuse my curtness, but the way I work is good for the both of you. I will contact you when I have news.”

     “The sheriff will contact me.” At my words, Graham stepped forward. “He will stay with you while you work.”

     I went home and went to work the next day, but I couldn’t get any work done. By lunch, I’d heard nothing from Graham. I called him up but got no answer. I had meetings to attend after lunch, but I couldn’t concentrate and just said yes to everything. I don’t know, I may have agreed to a waterslide in front of town hall.

     By the end of my day, I’d had enough. I knew how to handle this in a language Dr. Mercer might understand, so I went over to Mr. Spencer’s practice and let myself in. Mr. Campbell was at his desk, crying. His face was beet red. Albert had his hands on Mr. Campbell’s shoulders. He saw me and looked totally confused.

     “He’s been like this for over an hour now. He won’t tell me why. I didn’t know what to do.”

     I knew what to do. We took Mr. Campbell back to the hospital and admitted him immediately.

     “We may have released him from the hospital too soon.” One of the aids said.

     “No, it’s the fever.” I knew it was. What else could it be?

      Moments later, Graham came out to see me.

     “There you are! Why haven’t you called me?” I got right in his face.

     “I’ve been all over town for Dr. Mercer.” Graham tried to put his hands on my shoulders, but I smacked them off.

     “I told you to watch him!”

     “It’s all right.” He made his voice as soothing as he could. “He’s been running tests all day. Henry’s doing fine.”

     Dr. Mercer showed up just then. He was wearing one of the white coats from our hospital.

     “I’ve cancelled my symposium in Boston.” At least he could see how important this was. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve reached all of my contacts and no one is to bother me while I solve this.”

     “But how long do you think this will take? How long can Henry remain like this?”

     “His vitals are good. Despite whatever he has, your son’s a strong little boy. If I may, I’d like to talk more about this to you. Would you come with me to the cafeteria? I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

     “Would you like an apple?” I reached for the one in my purse.

     “No thank you. I don’t like apples.”

     We went to the cafeteria. As he sat down at the table with his lunch, Dr. Mercer’s coat opened up, revealing Kurt’s old shirt.

     “All I came with was the suit I was wearing and a suitcase full of clothes for weather much warmer than this.” Dr. Mercer smiled for the first time. “Mr. Campbell was kind enough to lend me warmer clothes.” He saw the face I made. “He assured me they’re clean.”

     “You’re not worried that you could get sick just by wearing his clothes? He was just admitted too.”

     “We may find out, but so far, I’m not.” He was very good at speaking clearly while stuffing food into his mouth. “You say you’ve seen this before?”

     “Yes, in small children like Henry. But it doesn’t make any sense why Dr. Whale or Mr. Campbell would be affected.”

     “We don’t know how it’s transmitted yet, but I’ve been able to rule out that it’s airborne. Otherwise, we might have a pandemic on our hands. But the fact that three people are hospitalized in just a week in a town as small as this is worrisome.”

     I waited while he drank his carton of milk in two gulps.

     “I’ll tell you what I’ve done today, apart from study the patients. Usually, the amount of people who check into hospitals for whatever is going around is only a small percentage of those who are actually infected. So I got the sheriff to help me find as many people as possible who came into contact with Dr. Whale and Henry within the last seventy-two hours and tested them. I took a small sample of everyone’s blood.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Now I should probably test those who came in contact with Mr. Campbell—“

     “That won’t be necessary. He—was just released from the hospital. I’m sure whoever you tested for Dr. Whale will be sufficient.”

     “Well, I questioned everyone I tested. It seems this town had some sort of celebration last week?”

     “Miner’s Day,” I nodded. “But as I said, Mr. Campbell wasn’t there.”

     “But your son and the doctor have something in common, so I’ve heard, and I’m wondering if Mr. Campbell shares that commonality. May I see that apple again?”

     I reached in my purse and handed it to him. He turned it in his hands and examined it.

     “What kind of apple is this?”

     “Honey crisp.” That sounded reasonable to me.

     “Are you sure?” Not to him, though, apparently. “I’ve never seen an apple to look this good in the coldest part of winter.”

     “The tree comes from a very hearty stock.”

     “Can you remember if Mr. Campbell has eaten one of these recently?”

     “Yes. I gave him one before he left to pick you up. Also, he had one of my apple turnovers the last time he and his—he came over for dinner.”

     “I’d like to examine this, as well as your tree.”

     “You think my apples carry waking fever?”

     “I do.” His confidence frightened me. The tree was the only thing brought over from home. Did I bring waking fever to Storybrooke, to kill anyone who wasn’t already immune?

     “What if you’re wrong?”

     “Then this is going to take a lot longer, and I don’t know how long I can keep your son alive.”

Thursday, March 11th, 2004

     I guess I fell asleep. At least I knew that Henry was sleeping and while he wasn’t getting better, he wasn’t getting worse. I remembered pulling a chair up beside his little bed and everything getting very calm and quiet for what felt like only a few minutes. But I was startled awake when Kathryn placed a hand on my shoulder.

     “It’s just me!” Kathryn reacted as quietly as she could to my gasp. “Everything’s fine! Henry’s fine. See?”

     Henry breathed easily in his medicated sleep.

     “I’m so scared, Kathryn.” Five seconds awake, and already I was crying. “I worked so hard to have him and now I could lose him. No one knows how to help him and it’s my fault he’s sick.”

     “Hey, hey, no.” She went in for the hug. “It isn’t your fault. Sometimes children get sick.” The hug continued until I calmed down. “I’ve got some good news.” Kathryn pulled back and reached into her purse. “I was looking online last night to see if I could figure out what Henry had, but no one on the internet’s heard of waking fever. But…” She pulled out some printed pages. “I found a doctor who works all over the world. Some call him Dr. Miracle because he goes wherever there’s great disease and cures as many people as he can.”

     I was too tired and upset to make a sarcastic remark. Instead, I looked at the pages Kathryn handed me. A black and white picture of a man with dark hair and strong features looked back at me with large, dark eyes. The headline read, “Dr. Miracle Stops Another Polio Outbreak”.

     “I emailed him about Henry’s symptoms, but then I felt silly.” Kathryn laughed. “Why would such an amazing doctor write back to me? But, Regina, he did! Almost right away! He wants to come and help Henry!”

     I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. While the medical knowledge in this world is superior to the knowledge back home, I’m still suspicious of anyone who is touted as able to perform miracles. One doctor was introduced to me that way before, and he’s currently sedated in the room next to my son’s.

     “He’s actually on his way to Boston for a symposium!” Kathryn’s instinct to jump with excitement was repressed to a bounce out of respect for the circumstances. “He’s willing to fly out early to help out here! All you have to do is pick him up.”

     “No!” I knew how this would turn out. “If he’s able to help my son, I’m grateful, but I’m not leaving Henry. I have to stay here. What if—?” There came the tears. I would not leave him. Too many people have left their children, and for what? Jefferson left his daughter, Snow and Charming gave up their child and all of them are cursed. Even Henry’s real mother gave him up, and I hope she suffers daily. But I would not abandon my son.

     “Is there someone you could send on your behalf? All he needs is for someone to bring him here.”

     “No one can get him—“ Then I remembered someone I could use; someone else who had abandoned their child.

     “Watch my son, please. I just thought of someone and need to make arrangements. I’ll only be a couple of hours. Call me if anything changes. You’ll call me, won’t you?”

     “Of course.”

     I drove back to my safe haven and used the last of my gifts, all the while thinking of a back story. Soon I was back to the hospital, only this time I went to the lower level. There’s a different smell down in that part of the hospital. It still has the smell of cleanliness, but with a burning smell of stronger, older cleaning agents. The nurse behind the desk wished Henry well before I walked into the room next to Belle’s. Kurt slept soundly as all of the machinery that monitored him flashed and beeped. I uncorked the little glass bottle in my hand and poured its contents into his IV drip. The fluid turned purple before becoming clear again. I waited only a minute before Kurt’s eyes began to flutter. He took a deep breath and looked at me.

     “Mayor Mills?” The monitors behind him beeped faster.

     “Good evening, Mr. Campbell.” I smiled as he acknowledged this name. “I heard you might be finally waking up. I’ll alert the nurse. Are you feeling well?”

     He nodded slowly. “What happened?”

     “You were in a car accident. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Your car was totaled, and the doctors were able to save you. They did a good job. It looks as though you don’t have any scars. But you were out for quite a while. Is there anyone you want me to call? Any family?”

     “I don’t have any family.”

     “Well, I’ll call your boss, Mr. Spencer.” I pulled out my phone. No calls from Kathryn. “He’ll be pleased to know his best lawyer is finally awake.”

     Albert came as soon as I called and accepted immediately that Mr. Campbell had always worked for his firm. Mr. Campbell was found to be in perfect health and released immediately. The two lawyers followed me to Henry’s room. Kathryn showed them the papers, and no one found it odd when I suggested a man who had only been released from the hospital minutes ago drive down to Boston to get this miracle doctor.

     “We’ll get you into some proper clothes first.” Albert assured his associate. “The ones you’re wearing make you look more like a lumberjack than a lawyer.”

     “Fine,” Mr. Campbell agreed, “but can I get some food first? I feel like I haven’t eaten in twenty years.”

     “Here, have this.” I handed him an apple from my tree. I always keep one on me just in case. “Until you can find something more substantial.”

     Mr. Campbell thanked me by taking the apple and taking a large bite. The two gentlemen left and Mr. Campbell promised he’d be on the road within the hour. As soon as he crossed the town line, Mr. Campbell would remain Mr. Campbell and Kurt would be no more.