Running her hand on her neck, Elizabeth released a sigh, eyes on the rising sun on the horizon as she slowly sipped on her hot tea. Except for the birds outside, everything was still quiet as yet another day began.

One more.

Carefully marking the small piece of paper she kept next to the kitchen's door, she then made her way to the main room, where toys where spread everywhere, then up the stairs and on to her usual path towards his bedroom. The door wasn't close, of course, it never was. Stopping at the doorstep, she was about to lean on the doorframe when she realised something.

He wasn't asleep.

When he was, he was always on his back, arms sprawled on either side of his beautiful face, legs tangled among the sheets and mouth slightly opened. A sight that, morning after morning, day after day, she never got tired of.

(Sometimes, she wondered if it was how he used to sleep, too. There was already so much of him in his son – she wouldn't be surprised he inherited something like this as well.)

But today, that wasn't the sight that greeted her. She could only make out his frame as he rested on his side, his back to her and his small body perfectly tucked under covers that should be half on the floor. He seemed tensed as well, now that she looked more closely and, before she could even try to think of what had happened, her eyes caught his clothes hanging at his window.

His wet clothes.

Fear, dread, anticipation and a million other emotions suddenly assaulting her, Elizabeth felt her heartbeat rised as everything dawned on her.

Again. She couldn't say she was surprised, of course, his steel determination always worn with pride. Still, the worry and ache that always came with it never eased.

She looked back at her son, and slowly made her way towards him, loud enough to let him know of her presence if he didn't already know she was here.

She knew full well sleep hadn't taken him, and he didn't try pretending, his tired, sad, oh so sad brown eyes fixed on the wood opposite him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, either, his grip on the pillow underneath his head still tight as she sat on the side of his bed and threaded her fingers into his now mostly dry hair. Gently strocking, reassuring.

After a moment, her thumb moved to his little cheek, as tenderly as she could as she finally broke the silence.

"We've talked about this, Henry. You have to stop." His answer was immediate – predictable.

"I don't want to."

"It's dangerous," she said nonetheless, chills running down her body at the memory of her – their – little boy, blood running down his forehead and tears down his face.

"I don't care."

"Henry - "

"I don't care!" he shouted, his voice broken despite the anger as he suddenly rose, escaping from her touch to get up and face her.

His eyes and cheeks were still red. "I don't care what you say – both of you!", and the desperation and hurt he tried to hide broke her heart. "I won't stop. Nobody's doing anything – you're not doing anything," he accused, crushing down yet another wave of guilt over her. She didn't have time to process it, though, because he wasn't done.

"But I'm going to do it – I'm going to find the Trident, and I'm going set him free so he can come home. I won't stop…I won't stop."

She could hear the slight shake in his last words, but he stared at her, defiant, determined, not willing to settle for anything else than what he had ever wanted. Who he had ever wanted – so much.

Elizabeth knew he would find out sooner or later. With all the research he did, every tale, every legend, every story about the sea he pursued in the hope to find an escape, he had to. She knew it was only a matter of time before he'd hear about the Trident, and start obsessing over it.

After all, she had.

He stayed like this, breath heavy and eyes not leaving hers, and Elizabeth could only smile at the sight of him. So gentle, so strong, so selfless, so loving. She'd never thought she'd be so proud of anything or anyone the way she was of him.

"I did try," she finally admitted, watching as confusion started to build behind his eyes. "When he first left, I looked everywhere for someone who knew of a way to break such a curse, for anyone that might have even the slightest clue as to what could be tried."

The anger slowly faded from his chubby face, and as he listened intently, she could see his slight shock at her unexpected admission. But, as young as he may be, he deserved to know.

"I even tried to find Calypsso herself somehow, but - "

She heard her own bitterness in her dry chuckle, but then her tone softened again as her eyes laid on her boy once more. "Then you came along, and for a few months, I focused on the best gift Will could have ever left me," she smiled. "I didn't stop looking, honey. I read everything, just like you did – and I found out about the Trident of Poseidon, just like you did. Despite knowing that it would be impossible, I wanted to go and try to find it, I wanted it more than anything - and in any other circumstances, I would have."

"Then let's do it, Mother," he leaped forward, a fire waking his whole body. "Let's go find it!"

Ignoring the twitch of her heart as best as she could (a twitch that came from his hopefulness, her ache, their loss, the unfairness of it all), Elizabeth managed a smile as she framed his face, at the same level as hers with him standing and her seating.

She let her eyes travel on his nose, on the freckles on his sun-coloured skin, on his dark eyebrows, on the curve of his lips. She focused on his eyes again, so much like his.

"Your father is the love of my life," she said quietly, thumbs gently combing his curls behind his ears. "He always will be. But you are as well, and I couldn't risk exposing you to such danger – or leaving you behind, and possibly leave you orphan in my quest," she explained.

Elizabeth tried with all she had not to break, not to waver because right now, she couldn't allow herself to, but the weight of the regrets, of the helplessness she still felt every day for not helping Will escape his terrible fate threatened to suffocate her.

Despite all the years that had gone by, it felt like she was still fighting for air.

"But I'm big now - we can go! I promise I'll be good: I'll do everything you say," he tried to convince her, his words rushed, urgency behind every single one of them. "I swear!"

"We can't risk that, Henry."

"But - "

"I told him. The day he first came back – the day you first met him," she added with a smirk, even if he knew. "I told him everything. And as soon as I mentionned the Trident, you know what's the first thing he said? 'Henry comes first.'"

Heart heavy, she chuckled, remembering the same determination, the same fierce love that now reflected in his son. "He didn't want me to do anything, because his priority is, and always will be you."

His eyes were filing with tears, at that point. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She knew he'd probably been crying all night, and here it came again. He was far too young, she thought, for such pain.

His words were so quiet. "So we can't save him because of me."

Shaking her head, she slid her hands along his arms, making sure he was looking right at her.

"No – Henry? None of it is your fault, do you hear me? None of it."

Sighing, she brought him to her, resting her forehead against his for a second before dropping a kiss on his nose, meeting his gaze. "You're the best thing that ever happened to us," she firmly stated, before confronting him to what she would have liked to never have to. "Sometimes life's just not fair."

"But I want him to come home, Mother."

Tears were running freely down his cheeks now, all apparences broken with his heart, leaving nothing but a small boy who was denied his father without having done anything to ever deserve it, and knowing there was probably nothing that could ever change that.

Bringing her son even closer to her, Elizabeth burried her face in his shoulder, holding him tight against her as she ran her hand on his hair and back to try and ease his sobs.

"I know, sweetheart," she whispered in his shirt. "I know."

(I do, too.)