Thank you so much to my lovely Beta and fic sister Emily (Lillie-Grey) for always correcting my bad grammar and letting me bounce my terrible ideas off of. This story would not exist without her!

Present Time - Storybrooke

Henry

It was weird, this town, absolutely nothing like New York but it's still pretty cool. He likes the diner, has always loved people watching, and to be able to do so in a town of completely new people has his interest constantly peaked. It did help that Granny's diner served one of the best cups of hot cocoa that he'd ever tasted and it was always topped with a healthy dollop of perfectly whipped cream and sprinkled generously with cinnamon...he no longer questioned how they knew his preference for the drink.

Yeah, he quite liked this strange little place in Maine, felt quite content to stay for as long as his Mom needed, but he hoped that with time, he'd get used to the feeling of being watched...always.

It'd taken him a little while to realise that the people he was watching were watching him too, stealing little glances his way every now and then and though his Mom had told him that it was a small town with barely any visitors, that it was like this for her the first time she came here, he knows there's something else.

It's weird but he trusts his instincts, something his Mom had always taught him to do despite it coming back to bite her in the butt now. Something's odd about this little place and, with Emma preoccupied with finding her new target - something else he doesn't quite believe at the minute but won't push her on - it gives him the time and space to explore Storybrooke and find any hidden secrets without her worrying too much - she's always worried these days and that's something else that has his imagination working overtime.

Robin

"You are a godsend!" Snow practically moaned as she took the takeout coffee from her husband, dropping a kiss onto his cheek before taking her place in the chair in the corner of the room once more, tired eyes landing back upon the still form of Regina. "Emma and Killian are going to spend today looking for any new faces, see if we can't get a little further on this whole thing."

David nodded before turning back to find Robin focused entirely on the sleeping Queen, eyes trailing over her form with a gently furrowed brow. "There's another chair over there if you'd like to sit," he offered before taking the one beside his wife, pulling her free hand into his lap and enveloping it with his own two. When Snow looked curiously at the archer, no doubt a thousand different theories about his connection to Regina running through her mind, David explained "I think it best if we involve Robin and perhaps some of his men on this," he shrugged, "the more help the better, right?"

Snow nodded almost distractedly, gaze still filled with question though she didn't ask. She did, however, notice the way the outlaw was looking at the sleeping Queen, his eyes moving over the glass coffin in which she lay before landing on her face. He drew closer without conscious thought it seemed, his legs carrying him without the consent of his mind, taking him from her feet, up to where her head lay upon a pillow.

Her dark hair still lay over her shoulder in thick curls, scooped over and tickling the backs of her hands where they were folded over her abdomen. Her expression was peaceful, no lines creasing her forehead or indicating the tightness of her eyes, no snarl nor scowl on her full lips. He'd caught sight of her only a handful of times in the Enchanted Forest, the very first being on one of his first missions. He'd been barely a man but had felt the instant thirst for the chase, for the rush of adrenaline that came with the success of taking means from those who wouldn't miss them and giving them to those who needed them.

She'd been in the gardens, the 'child bride' the elders had called her and he'd realised why the moment their eyes had locked - he'd thought she'd call for the guards but instead she'd simply stared back at him with barely any surprise colouring her features. She'd been around the same age as himself, skin dewy and smooth, her face free of the lines of age but those eyes, they'd been empty, lifeless, resigned to the life she'd looked to have been forced into.

The next time he'd seen her had been many years later whilst hidden behind a thick and dusty tapestry hanging in a long corridor in the Forbidden Fortress. His men were safe, he'd watched and waited for them to be clear of the castle walls before he was to make his own exit but the sight of her, long and slim legs encased in tight shining leather, a long-tailed black coat with red feathered ends that swept across the ground behind her as she walked covering a tight corset that lifted and flaunted her breasts, she was nothing like the young woman he'd seen so long ago. She was different now, hardened and, he remembered thinking, free of the King. Even then he'd been able to feel a little sympathy for the Dark Queen and he'd certainly been able to appreciate the beauty of her in both circumstances.

Here, lying within the very same glass coffin she'd confined her step-daughter to, she appeared to be caught in the middle of both versions of herself. The prince had said that she'd changed whilst in this land and, looking at her, Robin could see what he meant.

Eleven Months Ago - The Enchanted Forest

"I still don't understand the secrecy, girl."

Dark eyes rolled as she continued kneading at the dough, grabbing a handful of flour that she sprinkled upon the table beneath before slapping the pale mixture back down onto it and continuing, pointing out "You think for one second that those idiots would dare touch your food if they knew who'd had a hand in preparing it?"

"I think you're giving them less credit than they deserve for how they've come to accept you," Granny rebuffed as strong arms worked at stirring the pot filled with her hearty stew - she'd almost snapped Regina's arm off for suggesting she add a bottle of red wine to enrich the sauce but had, begrudgingly, poured a good healthy amount in and merely scowled in reply when the brunette had grinned at her small victory - her eyes never leaving the mixture as she continued "You worked hard for your redemption."

"And look where it's gotten me." Her voice trembled at the remembrance of mornings spent with Henry in the kitchen, of days spent creating weird and wonderful batches of cookies for him to taste and for her to sniff at, and though the smells weren't the same, if she closed her eyes she could just about imagine the sound of his excited squeals that would ring through the kitchen with every beep of the oven timer.

"Is that why you're in here?" the older woman surmised after a long moment of allowing the Queen to gather herself, "To remember him?"

Her brow furrowed as she snapped "I could never forget him," and shook her head, "never."

The sound of stirring ceased for a moment as Granny let loose a deep sigh and drawled "Well I suppose helping me cook is far healthier than ripping us from one world to the next."

"Yes, well," Regina shook herself from the grief clawing at her and grumbled, "you're entitled to your opinion, I suppose."

A dry chuckle was all that sounded from behind her and for a long moment, both women simply worked in something of a contented silence until two new voices grew in volume and clarity and had dark eyes shooting up from the metal tray - deep and rectangular - into which she was moulding the dough.

"I'm sure Granny is far too busy to be making- oh…" Robin froze in the doorway, "Your Majesty."

"Regina!"

She startled at the sound of their voices - surprised by Roland's sudden cry of her name but more so by Robin's presence, feeling herself grow rather shy with Granny no doubt watching behind her - her eyes lifting from her work to find Roland beaming and moving towards her.

"Don't run" she and Robin both warned together and though it earned her a heavy sigh of frustration from the toddler, it also garnered a small smile from the man in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, lifting her hands from the dough and wiping the excess on her apron before moving to untie the ribbon at the base of her spine, "I shouldn't have-" she frowned, "it's not my place."

"It's okay," Robin replied easily, "I'm glad to know he's being watched over on the days he escapes my line of sight."

She was still a little antsy at his sudden arrival, but managed a small smile in return before looking down to where Roland was tugging rather insistently on her dress. "How may I help you, good sir?"

Roland giggled, as he always did when she addressed him as such, before he looked to the table on tiptoes and asked "What's that?" and pointed to the dough.

She bent at the knee, cupping her hands beneath his armpits - shooting Robin a silent question with her eyes which he answered with a nod - before heaving him up into her arms. He was a little heavier than Henry at that age but not by much and the familiar weight was as nice as it was heartbreaking. "It's going to be bread."

His brow furrowed as he looked from the table, to her and back again. "It doesn't look like bread."

Regina chuckled along with the woman behind her and Robin, telling him "No it doesn't, does it." She shifted him a little more onto her hip and explained "but it will once it has baked for a little while."

His eyes lit up, "Can I help?!"

"If it's okay with your father," the archer nodded his permission when Roland asked, "and you promise to listen to everything I say and be very careful" he nodded vigorously, his whole body shaking in her arms with the movement, "then of course you can, sweetheart."

He inflated with a gleeful excitement - much like a party balloon, Regina mused - that filled his whole body as he grinned toothily at her, those dimples womb achingly precious when he turned to regard his father. "Are you staying, Papa?"

"No, my boy" he replied on a fond chuckle, "I'll allow you the pleasure of the Queen's company all to yourself for the morning" and Regina found that she was equally relieved - he always had the strangest of effects on her when he was too close - and disappointed, she quite enjoyed their playful back and forth. "But then I expect both of your behinds parked in seats beside my own when we sample your wonderful creation." And oh...well…

"I believe, unlike your son's, my behind is very much my own to do with as I please, thief."

It was supposed to be biting, cutting yet Robin merely chuckled and apologised with a dimpled grin before his son was cutting in enthusiastically.

"Only if I get to sit next to the Queen!" Roland bargained, much to Regina's surprise.

"If the Queen sits in the middle then we can both share that honour," his gaze caught Regina's, bright blue and filled with an amusement at her utter shock...they were fighting over sitting next to her. "What do you say, m'lady?" He was revelling in it, a teasing smirk on his lips, "would you allow us the pleasure of your company?"

She was saved - or rather thieved of her answer - when Granny spoke up rather gruffly from behind her. "She'll sit with you, now stop flirting and get out of my kitchen. There's work to be done."

And with nothing more than a bark of laughter and hands raised in surrender, Robin backed out of the kitchens with one last look thrown at Regina and absolutely no denial on his lips. He'd been purposefully flirting with her and for the life of her, Regina didn't know quite what to do with that information.

Snow smiled as she grew closer, eyebrows raised as though already expecting Regina to join them at their table and ordinarily - begrudgingly - she would have if not for the small and excitable toddler leading her rather forcefully to where his father was sat - with two chairs empty beside him - laughing with his men and just the sight of him, of those dimples denting his cheeks and his eyes alight with his joy, had her stomach flipping with nerves that she was growing rather suspicious of. He was handsome, any fool could see that, but she didn't like him...not like that…

"Hi, papa!"

She schooled her expression as Robin turned to greet his son with a beaming smile that showed his perfectly white teeth. He shifted his body in his seat, turning so that the back was at his side and giving him enough space to open out his arms and welcome Roland into them, an embrace that the boy accepted with a giggle - rather awkwardly though, he neglected to release Regina's hand and so pulled her with him until her thighs knocked into Robin's shins.

Her lips parted with a soft gasp as she immediately tried to pull back, to gain some distance and to stop the strange fluttering warmth that spread through her stomach at the contact.

"Are you going to release the Queen?" Robin chuckled, clearly far less affected by their proximity than she was and his laughter only continued when Roland pulled back from their hug and gave a resolute shake of his head.

"I like holding Regina's hand."

"Be that as it may," Robin chuckled, catching the smile that curled at Regina's lips without thought at his son's answer, he looked back down at Roland with raised eyebrows and commented "I think, for dinner time at least, that Her Majesty should be allowed her hand back, don't you?" and when Roland looked fit to argue, Robin posed "how do you expect her to be able to sample all of your hard work without both of her hands?"

"I can feed her!"

Both adults laughed at that, Robin's Merry Men too though she paid them no mind for the moment, "and how will you feed yourself?"

And well, from the frown on his little features, it was quite clear that the little outlaw hadn't thought of that.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart" Regina interrupted gently, giving a gentle tug on their joined hands to pull his attention back around to her as she lowered herself into a crouch to better talk to him. "How about you sit on my lap whilst we eat?" she smiled warmly at him, "that way you're still close to me."

He thought about it for a moment, little mouth moving to the side as he weighed up his options before, finally, he was nodding, accepting her offer. "Can we still sit next to papa?"

Her answer this time was not as readily available but still, with some hesitation, she nodded and answered with a tentative "Sure, of course we can."

"He seems to have taken quite the shine to you," Snow mused as Regina lowered her hand once more with a small smile tugging at her lips at Roland's petulant pout. He'd wanted to remain with her, telling his papa that his bath could wait until that evening, until he'd finished at least one game of hide and seek with the Queen but, of course, Robin had told him that a stinky boy did not make the most appropriate of playmates and - after one of the most adorable arguments she'd ever witnessed - that had been that.

Regina let out of a soft breath of laughter through her nose, "I'm quite taken with the little charmer myself."

Snow's eyebrows raised as her smirk grew and she teased "I wasn't talking about Roland."

Regina rolled her eyes - ignoring the somersaults in her stomach - before turning to regard Snow with a raised eyebrow and lips pursed. "Don't start this again," and when Snow opened her mouth to reply, she reminded her "I told you on the very first day that we met that I hold no interest in Robin Hood."

The Princess' brow furrowed as she corrected Regina, "What you actually said was that he 'smells of forest'" she shrugged and began walking back to her husband having left the breakfast table to invite Robin, his men and his son for a picnic in the gardens later - after Roland's bath of course. "That doesn't sound like 'uninterested' to me, Your Majesty." When Regina's mouth opened, her brow furrowed almost incredulously, Snow stopped her with a serious but soft "He likes you, Regina," round eyes kind, "don't allow your stubborn pride nor your fear of the future to ruin what could be a good thing." And without another word, she turned and walked the last few steps to Charming's side, leaning into him and leaving a rather confused Queen to her thoughts.

She found them on the east side of the castle, not too far from the locked gate of her private gardens. The air was filled with laughter as people basked in the afternoon sun, children - more than she had realised were staying in the castle - giving chase to one another and giggling wildly when their parents joined in the game. Roland was one of them, beaming as he escaped the large hands of Little John and shrieked for his papa to help him.

Robin, for his part, was laughing too with his back pressed against the thick trunk of an oak tree, one knee bent to rest his foot flat upon the ground whilst the other was stretched straight in front of him. He looked to be the epitome of relaxed and she envied him that, the ease with which he held himself, no worries, no immediate fear.

Snow and Charming were in the middle of the grass, sat side by side in a large circle of people, chatting with those either side of them and nibbling at the various breads, cheeses and grapes laid out along with a wide array of other foods on the checkered cloth in the middle of the circle. Everyone seemed jovial, happy - everything that she wasn't.

She didn't belong here with them, celebrating life and community beneath the brilliant sun. She deserved the cold and the dark, she deserved loneliness.

Her stomach churned at the thought of facing so many that she'd wronged in the past. There were shadows to walk within inside the castle, out here she was completely open to their stares and to their scrutiny.

Foolish bravery had clouded her judgement before arriving, prompting her to leave usually heavily shadowed lids bare, to line dark eyes with a slick of dark brown liner as opposed to midnight black and coat her lashes only once with her mascara. Gone were the brushes of powder used to sharpen her features, to exaggerate cheekbones and her slim nose. She'd looked softer in the mirror and especially so with the way she'd left her dark hair to hang in thick loose curls about her shoulders, only an intricate braid running the length of her hairline to keep it out of her eyes.

She'd even chosen a more simple dress, a powder blue chiffon creation that barely revealed the swells of her breasts, showed off her lean waist and fell about her legs to sweep the tops of the ivory pumps she wore.

She felt absolutely ridiculous now, out in the open without her mask and her armour.

Robin

Robin had missed this terribly, more so than he'd first realised. A life cooped up had never been one he'd wanted to live, freedom tasting far sweeter than any riches his family had boasted. He'd felt guilt for leaving as he had, still did when he thought of his poor mother.

She'd passed mere days after his 14th name day, a long illness that had thinned her and stolen breath from her lungs. They'd thought she'd recover, had hoped and prayed for it everyday but when her blood had spotted her kerchief, that hope had died and shortly afterwards, so had she.

His father had been no good to begin with, an angry man who favoured his liquor over his family. He'd lain a hand on Robin's mother only once - his young son had promptly broken it. From that day, Robin had bore the brunt of his father's anger.

He wondered on what had happened to him sometimes, when his eyes fell upon his son and his heart instantly filled with great affection - he wondered if there had ever been a day in which Robert of Locksley had looked upon him with anything more than indifference. He'd no doubt died at some point or another, more than likely to have drank himself to death. Robin felt no guilt where his was concerned.

He'd almost died, those first few months, had almost died a great handful of times. Ill-prepared and as young as he was.

The cold had been unforgiving. Had seeped into his bones and taken root, induced muscle aching shivers that'd kept him up through the night. The storms had washed out any fire that he'd managed to spark to life and had dampened the only things he had to keep him warm.

Food had been scarce, berries and mushrooms his only sustenance for he had neither the energy nor the skill to catch any kind of animal. The weight had practically evaporated from him.

Little John always says that finding him must have been fate, hidden as he was beneath a blanket of moss and leaves - he knew enough not to leave himself vulnerable to attack in the night - that he hadn't even noticed him lying there until he'd gone and tripped over him and it's a funny story now but half dead and frightened, a young Robin hadn't found it all that amusing.

They'd taken him back to their camp - Little John, Tuck and Much had been the only inhabitants in those days - had tended to the wounds he'd sustained, had fed him and had given him a change of clothes and warm shelter and slowly but surely, he'd been able to rebuild his strength.

Over time he'd learnt - through his men and through others they'd recruited along the way - how to respectfully take from the forest. He'd learnt how to track and to hunt and, more importantly, how to read the land. He'd grown into a man in the forest, had planted his roots firmly in the open air and recently, he hadn't realised how truly disconnected he'd felt to it until he was sitting with the warm grass beneath him and a gentle breeze blowing about him, watching his boy revel in the outdoors just as he had.

The Queen had spent the better part of her morning securing her protection charm around the castle barrier, he'd been told, making it so that they could enjoy the warmth of the sun without the threat of attack. Grateful faces surrounded him but he had yet to see her.

It always seemed to worry him, the Queen not being around, and it wasn't for the reasons one would think. He wasn't wary of her hurting others, in all honesty, he was wary of her hurting herself.

Ever since the day they'd managed to reclaim the castle, when she'd talked of cursing herself with such despair in her lovely dark eyes and absolutely no fear of it, of the nothingness that it would no doubt bring, it'd stirred something deep within him, had brought forth a sudden need to show her that there was more to her life than she believed. That happiness was possible for her.

It only helped that she'd fallen for his son.

He doesn't quite understand the extent of his feelings for her - but feelings they most certainly are - yet he knows that his silent wants are for far more than friendship. She's terrified of him though, that much had become clear with how she'd reacted to any of his subtle smirks and flirtations, so he won't push her for anything more than she wants to give him. When he spies her across the gardens however, all thought of anything other than wanting to hold her close and bury his nose in her dark locks evaporates.

She is stunning and, if his eyes aren't deceiving him with the amount of space between them, she looks set to run.

Regina

"Will you be joining us this afternoon, Your Majesty?"

She startled, jumping at the sound of another's voice having not heard their approach and when she turned, she found herself surprised to find Friar Tuck standing behind her with a gentle smile. She hadn't had much interaction with the man nor had she ever really gauged as much of an opinion of him as she had the likes of Little John - he was a little more patient with her these days with the amount of time both his friend and Roland had been spending with her - and, in turn, she found him rather hard to read.

"I know that both Roland and his father would be pleased to share your company on this wonderful day," he continued, passing no comment on the way her expression changed with the mention of Robin, "I was about to make my way over there, would you like to walk with me?" He folded his arm across his body and extended his elbow towards her in an invitation that had her lips parting slightly in surprise before she was hesitantly threading her hand through the space he'd created and falling into step when he began walking.

It was somewhat awkward, this kind of contact with a man she barely knew, but she found there was a calmness about him that helped to soothe her nerves even if only a little. They were still quite a way from the others.

"If I may be so bold as to say, Your Majesty" he began, glancing to her and waiting for her nod before turning his gaze away from her once more to continue, "you are far different than any of us believed you to be not so very long ago."

"I doubt that very much," her eyes fell to her feet, that familiar pang of self-deprecation lancing through her.

"I won't force your belief," he commented softly and without judgement, leaving her to react as she wished before he assured her "merely attempting to open your eyes to the present rather than the past. Things have changed, Your Majesty," he continued, "and us Merry Men are not the only ones to have noticed."

She glanced to him momentarily before realising that they were almost within the first throng of those enjoying the sun, many looking their way with eyes void of the fear and the hatred she was used to seeing. They didn't smile at her, nor did she expect them to, but there lay no contempt within steady gazes. Perhaps the Friar was right.

Present time - Storybrooke

Henry

He frowned with chilled fingers curling over the metal gate as he looked across the barely rippling waters of the large pond. He felt...odd.

It wasn't just the park - he was quite sure he was just being silly, a lot of parks looked the same, had the same layout - but the smells, the sounds, the feelings it evoked in him. He felt nostalgic for reasons he couldn't understand. Perhaps his mother had brought him once when he was a child and he was remembering the place wrong, perhaps it was here that he'd almost toppled into the cold waters before his Mom had taken a good grip of his duffel coat and scolded him for playing too close to the water's edge…

But then he had memories of other times, of falling and scraping his knees, of ripping apart great hunks of bread and throwing them to the ducks, grinning at his mother's laughter when one brave little thing had swam right up to him and taken the chunk of bread from his fingers...but in his head, her laughter didn't sound the same anymore.

It was strange, like one of those weird fever dreams in which he knew his Mom was his Mom, knew that the figure he was looking at, the figure that was always watching over him was her, but she didn't look like his Mom. Her hair was dark and shorter and her clothes were different but he could never see her face. It unnerved him in a way nothing ever had, like he had the answers right in front of him but couldn't grasp them and now, with every new person that wandered past him - staring, always staring - it only added to his growing paranoia.

It was rather instinctual, something of a subconscious decision when he dropped his hand to curl over the gate and pushed down on the latch to open it with a creak that had a pang of remembrance lancing through him and his brow furrowing. Something about this place was off and his mother knew, every step closer to the water's edge had him all the more convinced.

Emma

"Look," Emma sighed, a little out of practice having spent the past year in the same shoes she had for most of her life, one where invisibility, for the most part, earned her a living. "I know you're all angry and you're scared, things didn't happen as they were supposed to and once again you have no memory of whatever it was that was done to you," they were nodding with her, moments away from hearty shouts of "yeah!", ever the stereotypical town mob, "but I promise you that we are doing our very best to find the person responsible."

"Isn't it obvious!?" Leroy cried, jumping up to his feet and looking around at the others, clearly trying to rile them much to Emma's exasperation, "who's done something like this before? Who took our memories the last time?" He snarled viciously before spitting "the Evil Queen!"

Emma's heart sank as her eyes fell shut, she didn't want to tell them what had happened to Regina, didn't want to reveal that she was currently the weakest and most vulnerable she had ever been to people clearly still out for her blood with the way they were shouting their agreement. She did, however, give a firm and extremely clear statement of "Regina had nothing to do with this, believe me."

"And how can you be so sure?"

Because she's lying in a magic induced coma, for fucks sake!

"I just am."

"No offence girl," Granny stood from her place in the barely seated crowd, "but that's just not good enough."

"Well," Emma's eyebrows raised with her tone, a little tired of being spoken to like an idiot when she'd been practically forced to come back to this damn town anyway, "it's going to have to be."

Red leather whipped across the room, slapping against the hard back of a chair she hadn't sat in for over a year, yet felt she'd barely removed her ass from with how familiar all of this was. I knew I shouldn't have come back here.

It was unfair really, to think of such a thing when, in all honesty, she was the luckiest of anyone in this damn town. She wasn't cursed, she wasn't missing any of her memories and she wasn't being hunted by some new villainous force but still, life this past year had been so wonderfully normal in comparison and now, now she was right back where she'd started.

"Were you in love with him?"

She startled at the sound of his voice, releasing a weighted breath as she turned to find Hook leaning against the station doorway. "Who?"

"Your monkey ma-"

"Walsh."

The obnoxious smirk that had curled at his lips faltered with her tone. She was in no mood. "Walsh then," he amended with a slowly furrowing brow, watching as she dropped forward to rest her palms on the surface of the desk. "Were you in love with him?"

What if I had been!? She wanted to rage at him because he didn't own her, he never had. One damn kiss and he'd thought their supposed 'true love' could break a curse. She barely knew him - it was as much a lie as she was able to accept in that moment, as frazzled as she was - still, she replied "no," on a heavy sigh, too tired to argue any further.

"Still," he continued, "I apologise for what happened. It couldn't have been easy."

"When has my life ever been easy?" It was self-deprecating, yet ridiculous when faced with a town full of people who'd known nothing but hardship for the past couple of decades, but she was still smarting over the fact that she was here.

"Easy is boring, Swan" he scoffed good-naturedly - guilt lanced through her, he was trying at the very least - "and boring you are not."

She blinked tiredly and asked, "But what if I want to be?"

It took him aback, had his lips parting in surprise as he searched for something to say, A task he was saved from when the phone on her desk screamed to life.

She rolled her eyes, "I guess that's not my choice to make," before she lifted the phone to her ear. "Sheriff Swan speaking" and found herself surprised to hear Whale's voice in her ear.

"I need to report that the unconscious body of a young boy, has been pulled from the park pond just under 30 minutes ago. He's currently stable but unresponsive and we are not treating the circumstances as suspicious. It seems he simply fell whilst admiring the waters."

Her brow furrowed as she stopped her scribbling, pen still pressed to paper. "So, why are you calling me?"

His completely unfeeling response had her blood running cold. "Because the boy in question is your son, Sheriff Swan. It's Henry."