Disclaimer: not mine – though I wish they were.

Author's Note: For ffreaderwriter and her evil plot bunnies Two words of warning: artistic licensing. Enjoy!

Castles, they might crumble

Dreams may not come true

But you are never all alone

Cause I will always, always love you

-Plumb 'In My Arms'

Martha Rogers had always loved storms, for as long as she could remember.

She never knew quite why, only that she did. Perhaps it was their unpredictable nature: the wild freedom of the wind, the thick billowing clouds with their swirling contrast of blue and grey and white, the graceful dance of the lightning as it skittered from cloud to cloud, the earthshaking percussion of the thunder, the cleansing wash of the rain. It was as if the very air itself was alive.

She also feared them…

…particularly those which raged over the sea. Those storms, though beautiful in their own right, always left her with a nearly overwhelming sense of sadness…a crushing feeling intensified with the roar of each white capped wave as it crashed against the shore. A unexplainable feeling of loss that she had struggled to understand for years, but had failed…until now.

… now she wondered how she could have forgotten.

The salt of her tears mingled with the salt from the sea spray as she stood at the water's edge. The foam of the waves caressed her skin as it swirled around her ankles, like the embrace of an old friend. Martha turned her face into the strengthening wind, breathing deep of the familiar tang of salt and of sea weed, and the memories began slow their chaotic swirl, settling into a steady rhythmic flow in time to the sound of the waves as they slid across the smooth white sand at her feet.

Memories of another time and place…of another life.

"Does it really storm when Grandfather is angry?"

A sad smile quivered on her lips at the familiar question and she shook her head slightly. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, drawing her back into a comforting embrace.

"No, Love." She whispered. "Just a sailor's superstition."

She felt her son's arms tighten in response, and she raised a hand to grasp his as she listened to the roar of the waves. She felt his heavy sigh as he dropped his dark head against her shoulder.

"I miss him too."

His arms loosened and then fell away as she turned at his quiet declaration. "You remember?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, his eyes lowering to the book she held cradled against her chest. A leather bound book…hand stitched and well worn. A gift from a mysterious young bookbinder Richard had met by chance at a street fair when Alexis was eight. The man had refused payment for the priceless tome, simply offering a quirk of a smile as he presented it to her granddaughter.

A gift, he insisted, for the little princess.

A children's tale about a princess and a prince, of a love that had overcome insurmountable odds, and of happy ever after…but she knew now that it was more than a just a fairytale. It wasn't by chance that the book had come to her…for she knew the story beyond the ending in the book. For it was her story…she was the princess in the tale, or at least she had been once upon a time. A time when Eric still lived and life had been wonderful, a time before that fateful night when an evil queen's vengeance and a conjured storm had stolen him away forever, leaving her alone with their young son and a kingdom on the brink of war.

While the people loved and accepted their young queen, years of superstition had led to the belief that the King of the Seas was to blame for the loss of their beloved king, and of those who had sailed with him that fateful night. Though she did not blame him, her father had never forgiven himself for his failure to prevent Eric's loss and his daughter's heartbreak. In the end, it was the threat of Regina's impending curse that had brokered an uneasy truce between the two kingdoms. She remembered little of that final day…the day the billowing dark clouds had swallowed the world she loved…little other than the determination in her father's eyes and a wash of blinding light. She knew now that he must have used the last of his power to save her and her son from Regina's curse.

She wondered if it had also been his intent to make them forget where they had come from and those they had left behind…and wondered what had made them remember now. Thirty years had passed…thirty years in a world not their own, with memories of a life that wasn't real and a name that wasn't hers. Thirty years with only fleeting memories of her lost love…thirty years of questions as to why she was unable to recall the identity of the father of her son. Her heart caught in her throat and her eyes blurred with fresh tears as they swept over his strong features. Richard had her eyes and her smile, but the rest he had inherited from his father.

"I thought I was going crazy when I started to remember, especially when I remembered Grandfather. My imagination is good but not that good."

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she dropped her forehead against his shoulder. "He loved you so much." She murmured as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "They both did."

He nodded. "I know. I still can't believe that it is true." He added with a soft laugh. "My mother the mermaid."

She giggled as the thought of what her Manhattan friends would say if they knew the truth. Probably either chock it up to her eccentric nature or lock her away for fear of a mental breakdown.

"What do you think happened to them?"

Her thoughts sobered at the question she had long pondered. Where had Regina's curse sent them? Were they here somewhere in this world or lost in another realm, like that accursed Wonderland she had heard tales of? There was one small thing that gave her hope that they had survived. At least one of them had…

She pulled away slowly and brushed the tears back before opening the book to the inscription. "I'm not sure, though I found this interesting." She remarked, turning so he could read it as well.

For the fish lady, the kindest queen in the realm. To help you remember.

"There was only one person who ever called me 'the fish lady'." She remarked with a grin. "A small boy with a tendency for trouble and a love for tall tales."

Her son returned her grin as he shook his head. "I remember him. The carpenter's son, Pinocchio." His dark eyes grew thoughtful. "I thought that bookbinder looked strangely familiar."

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm grew closer to land. Two pairs of blue eyes stared out over the grey sea that was familiar, and yet not.

"Do you think we'll ever see them again?"

"Perhaps." Martha smiled up at him. "One day. This world may be different, but it still holds enough room for hopes and dreams of its own." She looked back in the direction of the beach house, barely visible above the dunes. "I've already had my happily ever after, with your father." The smile widened into a grin. "Now you deserve yours…perhaps with a certain detective?" she teased.

He groaned theatrically as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her toward the boardwalk. "Mother, stay out of it."

"I want grandchildren!" she insisted, playing along with his game.

"You have Alexis." He stated with a roll of his eyes. "Speaking of Alexis, should we tell her?"

Martha shrugged as she ran a finger along the edge of the book. "Maybe one day."

"How would we even begin to explain that story?" He remarked dryly, then paused and grinned. "Once upon a time?"

Their laughter echoed across the dunes.

A/N: Why yes, I am inferring that Martha is Ariel. A stretch I know – but lots of fun to write ;)