She doesn't want to think about how Regina pushed her out of the way, when she'd had Henry safe: dirty and grimy and pale and scared, but safe. Because of her, because of his friends. She'd been the one to go get him, she was the one he was smiling at and clinging to, until hands on her shoulders had pulled her away from him.

Her kid. Her kid, who needed to be comforted and checked over and scolded and hugged, who needed hot chocolate and as much time as he wanted to tell her all the things he'd found or wanted to find.

She's had a lot of heartaches in her life, but not one of them managed to prepare her for the sheer panic of thinking she might have lost Henry.

And then to remember pulling herself away from Michael, because dealing with her baggage is the last thing he should have to do...just the thought makes her wince, and so does Mary Margaret's assumption that tonight was just an innocent meet-up between friends.

"No, but...I, uh. Stuff...happened."