A/N: Thank you for the reviews, all of you lovely people! Chapter three is up, not as soon as I expected, but I honestly didn't have enough power to edit and check it. I hope it makes some sense and isn't too much "in the clouds" (I have no idea how the organisation I mentioned here works). Enjoy and please, review!

„I truly hoped my hearing failed me when you said we were going to the bank."

It had taken her some time to find the right bank and to reach it, which had caused some problems as well, but eventually they had got to it. The building was huge: it was a high skyscraper painted white. The main hall was spacious with many booths and couches that served as waiting rooms.

„And that your evil plan at least consisted of some robbery."

She looked around. There were many people inside, walking in every possible direction, crossing adjacent corridors, talking through phones, paying or repaying. Employees responsible for customer service seemed to be very busy supplying the clients with their assistance.

"Or some magic chaos you would invoke here."

She turned around and looked at him briefly.

"You can use magic outside of Storybrooke, can't you?" He apparently understood her negative expression even though she tried to hide it.

"I don't know," she said casually like it was a totally normal thing they were talking about and shrugged. "I haven't tried yet."

"Will you ever try?" His inquisitiveness was starting to irritate her.

"I will." She answered, shifting her attention away from him. "When the more appropriate time comes."

"Which means never, as I imagine," he retorted. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves enough to stop herself from making a scene in the middle of the bank. She had an aim and had to stick to it.

"Would you be so kind and keep your mouth shut for a moment?" She faked a smile and pointed at one of the couches. "Now it's your turn to sit down and wait."

His gaze followed her finger. He tilted his head when he saw a young, pretty girl sitting on the middle sofa and texting on her phone.

"No problem, dear," he said without any argument and walked away not even looking at Regina. She sighed and stood in the least crowded line to a booth.

His question triggered something in her, something she didn't allow to reach the surface for time long enough for it to cover in dust and start bugging her from the inside. She lied to him the same way she had been lying to herself. This lie now broke her mental barricade she had managed to build. She didn't want to try to cast some spell and find out if her powers were still present. First reason was very simple: she was afraid all of her might was gone. If it was the case, she would remain completely powerless for the rest of her life. Just a normal United States citizen, ordinary and like anyone else. She didn't like that idea. She hated being ordinary. The second reason was more complex, deeper and of a bigger significance. Denying the thing she loved, something that gave her power, was her own kind of a punishment. Magic might have been responsible for bringing Henry into her life – if it hadn't been for it, she wouldn't have cast the curse and would have been forever alone in the Enchanted Forest. But she was also sure magic had been one of the reasons that stood behind her son's death. If it hadn't been for magic, if Henry hadn't been magical, none of those would have ever happened and they would have been a happy family. Well, maybe not very happy and still dysfunctional, but a family. Magic had ruined it all. Magic had ruined her. But she still longed for it, for the feelings it gave her and couldn't get herself to loathe it. One can love and hate something in the same moment. She needed it so much that it almost hurt and the unawareness was killing her. But she wasn't going to try. She wasn't going to do magic ever again. It was her punishment. It was one of many prices she was paying for the loss of the only person that had cared for her.

"Next, please." She heard suddenly and realized it was her turn. She quickly left her thoughts aside and sat on the chair in front of the booth.

"Good morning," she greeted the man who was sitting at the other side of the glass. He nodded with boredom not suspending his quick writing on the computer keyboard.

"How can I help you?" he finally asked when she was silent for a few seconds.

"My card doesn't want to cooperate," she said light-heartedly, but the man didn't smile, only cast her a weary glance.

"Your name and the number of account, please," he requested and stopped typing with his fingers hanging few inches above the keyboard.

"Regina Mills," she said and dictated the number of her account from the piece of paper she was carrying in her wallet.

The man typed the information she gave him and waited for the response from the system. "Are you sure this is the right data, ma'am?" He asked after a while.

"Yes, I am sure." She nodded vividly, feeling a pinch in her heart. What the hell was going on?

"I'm sorry, but such an account doesn't exist in our bank and I don't have any information of the name you gave me in our database." His voice was wiped out of any kindness or interest; in his vague eyes she saw 'next, please'. She wasn't going to give up so quickly though.

"It has to be a mistake," she insisted, taking out her credit card and handing it to him. He accepted it reluctantly and scrutinized carefully. "I've had this account for..." She almost said '29 years'. It was a close call. "...many years and never had any problem with it."

His eyes followed the numbers embedded on the card and the moment later his fingers typed something quickly.

"Such an account doesn't exist nor has ever existed," he repeated slowly, handing the card back to her. "No Regina Mills possess an account in our bank or has ever possessed it."

"That's impossible," she persisted, not agreeing with what she was hearing. "Your system must be broken."

"My system is perfectly fine." The man started losing the patience.

"It obviously can't be if it's saying such a nonsense," she denied intently. He looked at her with a typical clerkly expression. "I request to speak with a manager."

"Miss Mills..." he paused for a moment, then proceeded with a traces of threat in his voice, "...if that's even your real name, I would advise you to leave now, before I lose my patience, call the police and accuse you of a fraud."

She was speechless for a moment. No one was allowed to speak to her in such a manner and especially not some clerk who naively believed he possessed any power over her. "You..." she started, but didn't finish. She wanted to say 'arrogant, impudent bastard, liar and scoundrel'. As the Evil Queen she would have hauled him over the coals without hesitation, punished him and made him suffer for what he had just said in ways he couldn't possibly imagine. Here and now she wasn't exactly thrilled about the possibility of being charged with a verbal assault. She could easily get arrested and there was no one who would bring her out of jail. "You have no idea who you are dealing with," she finished instead, her eyes narrowed, her voice filled with venom and hatred.

The man smirked. "Please, tell me," he said mockingly. "Should I call security or maybe you will find the way out on your own, ma'am?"

She cast him the most hostile look she could manage to create and stood up so abruptly that the chair she had been sitting on fell onto the floor. People in her line started whispering and looking at her with surprised expressions, but she didn't care, passing them quickly and not looking back. She hadn't felt so humiliated in her entire life. If she had her powers, the man would have already been dead. God, this whole place would have been turned into ashes. But it wasn't the life she was living now. It wasn't the life of the Evil Queen who lost her dignity; it was the life of Regina Mills who lost her money and could do nothing about it. In fact, she feared the case was more serious than that, but she had to check it out first.

She burst through the door and only behind it did she remember her companion. She didn't intend going back to collect him. She had made quite a scene back there, Hook had to notice it. If he doesn't follow her in some time, she would come back for him. And make him regret it severely. For now she decided to take advantage of being alone.

The man had said there had never been such an account. He said no Regina Mills had ever been a client of this bank. It seemed to be quite impossible and ridiculous: she had been using this card and taking money from it during 29 years spent in Storybrooke, inside the town and in other places she had visited. She had even stopped by a bank some time ago to inspect it. What was happening now could only mean one thing: the destruction of Storybrooke was followed by the deletion of everything that had connected its inhabitants with the outer world. It was like neither Storybrooke nor its citizens had ever existed. Three days ago her card had been active; there had been Regina Mills in the records of that bank. Now, with Storybrooke gone, all her history here came to past. Her account didn't exist, because in fact it had never been established, but only created by the curse. Her money didn't exist, because in fact she had never had it. Her identity didn't exist, because in fact... Regina Mills had never existed. She was only the product of the curse. The Evil Queen had existed. Now, with her gone...

"You are getting quite sentimental, my dear." Did he constantly have to pop up behind her when she was not prepared? She breathed heavily and when she turned to him her expression was cold and cool-headed.

"I'm not sentimental, I am simply jumping to conclusions." She stressed the word 'jumping' in a reference to the conversation they had had the day before.

"Care to share?" He was standing few steps from her, leaning against the nearest tree with crossed arms and an asking stare.

She shrugged and put on the mask of indifference. "My credit card doesn't work, because the account it was assigned to doesn't exist. No one going by the name of Regina Mills has ever been a client of this bank."

She looked at him meaningfully, expecting him to jump to the same conclusions as she.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he said with a little apologetic smile. "Proceed, please."

She sighed, but did as he wished. "The history of my usage of this bank services has been erased. Everything has been erased because of the destruction of Storybrooke. All of us could have been the citizens of United States, but with our city gone, our fake identities are gone as well. There is not a single paper that would confirm the existence of Regina Mills, David Nolan or Mary Margaret Blanchard. We simply don't exist. And we never had."

He nodded his head in a confirmation that he understood.

"And it is a bad thing?" he asked, raising his hand and slowly stroking his mustache.

"Yes, it is a bad thing," she confirmed vividly, her eyes sparkling with invigoration and slight anger that didn't want to go away. Her emotions were gaining control over her body once more.

He waited for her to continue and when it didn't happen, he waved his hand as a sign of encouragement. "It's a bad thing because...?" he asked and looked at her intently, expecting her to finish the sentence.

Because it means I have never had a life here, she thought with helplessness, but didn't say it out loud. Sometimes her own thoughts seemed reasonable and logical; sometimes they sounded ridiculously and irrationally, even though they usually weren't like this. She currently felt insecure about her feelings. She definitely didn't want to share them with him, not when they could expose her vulnerability and weaknesses.

"We are free and unknown," he proceeded, seeing she wasn't very willing to answer any time soon. He straightened and walked few steps towards her, looking her in the eyes. "What better could have happened?"

Gloomy look was all he got as an answer.

"I understand you may not be all sunshine and rainbows, but you have to look at the bright sides. You achieved what you desired: a lack of life." The cheerful tone of his words got on her nerves. Like he had any idea what she desired. Her cravings were far beyond her reach and nothing could change that fact.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped and pushed him away abruptly. He took one step backward, but still kept his eyes focused on hers. "I didn't want a future life, not the past one. There is a difference."

"What do you need a past for if you don't wish to have any future?"

That was a very good question, in fact. Question she didn't have an answer to.

"I don't know," she admitted, shrugging. Maybe she needed it because without it she felt lost? She desperately wanted to feel she was someone. Being deprived of her own identity would have meant she truly lost everything she could. "Maybe I just wanted to feel I've ever existed here."

"What for if it has all been just a lie?"

She felt struck but such an accusation. Her life hadn't been a lie. Lives of everyone else in Storybrooke had been a lie, but not hers. She had been aware of everything, she had known who she had been. It hadn't been a lie. He had no right to offend her like this.

"It hasn't been a lie, it..." What had it been exactly? Not a real life, because one does not really live when time doesn't pass and every day can look exactly the same as the previous one. Being an usurpatory mayor of an almost imaginary town might not sound very legitimate, but that had been her reality for such a long time she had almost started believing it was true. But his words made her realize it was as far from the truth as it could only be. "It was an illusion. There is a difference." She ended rebelliously, swallowing the sudden bump in her throat. It wasn't a nice feeling to finally find the right word to describe almost thirty years of her life and discover that this term was far from pleasant. Her gaze landed on the far buildings, away from the situation and from him.

"There isn't much difference between an illusion and a lie," he said a little bit quieter, watching her carefully. "The contrast is built upon the faith. It was your own choice to believe in this lie and make it an illusion. The good question is why."

"I don't know, okay?" she snapped and lifted her head, looking at him angrily. "Are you done with this interrogation?"

He stepped backward and lifted his hand in a fake defensive gesture. "I was just politely asking."

"So stop politely asking." She cast him a furious look before turning to her car. "As I said, it's just jumping to conclusions. I won't know anything for sure until I check it out. That can be one hell of a misunderstanding as well."

Silence that fell irritated her even more than his constant questions.

"Now what, you won't even ask how I am going to check it out?" she asked exasperatedly and faced him.

"You requested to stop politely asking," he said innocently, smirking. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

"Get in before I lose my patience and leave you here," she said under her breath, wiping her eyes wearily. This day was really peculiar. And they didn't even reach the half of it yet.

It took her some time to realize where she wanted to go. Heading to the City Council might not be the best idea. If her fears appeared to be true, clerks would immediately called the police and let them know about a fake identity she possessed. Which again would have its end in jail. Additionally, she didn't like the idea of explaining to some moronic cops why her companion didn't have any documents, neither real nor fake ones. Sure, they could easily go with a story of amnesia, head to a hospital, pretend a little and maybe play some doctors into convincing the clerks and policemen they needed new ID's. That could go well, but she was quite sure it wouldn't. Besides, it was far beneath her dignity. It would be too shameful thing for the Queen to do. Possessing fake documents seemed like a less disgraceful action. Moreover, she wasn't fond of hospitals. They weren't much better than prisons. They made people weak. They made them break. No, hospitals were definitely out of the question.

"There are two ways to acquire money in this world, as well as in any other: legal and illegal," she said seriously breaking the silence, but not letting her eyes off of the road.

She noticed he wanted to say something, but didn't let him get a word in edgeways.

"Don't." She waved her hand and proceeded, still not looking at him. "I have an idea of a challenge. I will try to get some money in a legal way and you, obviously, in an illegal one."

He processed her words for a second. "How are you planning to obtain them?" he asked eventually.

"I will try to find a job," she explained. "That way I will be able to find out if my assumptions are true while minimalizing the risk of ending up in prison."

"Huh," he commented, making her look at him briefly. His expression didn't tell her anything. "Challenges are usually followed by a price for a winning side."

"What makes you so sure you will be the winning side?" His self-confidence was sometimes really tiring. What made him have such a high self-esteem? Or maybe was it just a pose? She in fact had no idea. She started wondering if she knew him as well as she had thought.

"I didn't say I would be the winning side," he precised. "I just asked whether you envisaged a reward or not."

"Well, I didn't," she answered. "It's just a way to keep you occupied while I am managing important things. You don't have to accept the challenge if you don't want to."

"Who said I don't?"

She smirked a little. She was sure he would take the bait.

"You don't have to accept it if you chicken out either," she chuckled; she couldn't resist saying that.

He gave her a look of a wounded animal.

"Such an assumption hurts me deeply," he said in a serious tone, although with traces of a little laugh in it. "I'm not a coward, my dear, and you should know it by now. I will accept any challenge you would give me."

"I wouldn't be so quick with this 'any'." A wicked smile appeared on her lips. It would be much safer for him not to agree on something without knowing what he exactly agreed on.

"I would be. I thought you know me well enough to realize I am capable of doing pretty much everything." He stretched his legs out and leaned his head on the headrest. "If you don't know me well enough..." He tilted his head and looked at the road before continuing casually, "We will have a plenty of time to get to that point and explore our hidden mysteries, then."

She turned her head and watched him for a moment with some new thoughts building up in her. He said they had plenty of time. How long did he intend to stay with her? Obviously long enough for them to get to know each other much better. They both were complex and screwed up, so such a process would require a long period of time. Very extended period of time. It would take them long enough to feel comfortable with each other, not to mention starting to uncover the layers of their complicated personalities. It wasn't just about showing him the mysteries of this world this time. His words took their little deal onto much more personal level. She didn't feel comfortable with it. She didn't want to allow anyone to peer inside her privacy, let alone him, the person who she didn't even regard as any sort of friend, but more as a frenemy. Frenemies were far from friends. Frenemies didn't get to know each other better, they could only tolerate each other. She believed he felt the same way. But if he did, why he had said those words? Because he was curious? Because he felt it would be quite a challenge to peek behind the walls she had created? Or maybe... maybe because he simply wanted to change their status from 'frenemies' to 'some sort of friends'? She had no idea. Maybe she was just overanalyzing everything and looking for the hidden meaning in something that didn't even have it, as she had always used to do.

She was also a little bit struck by the thought he could want to stay with her long enough to discover the features of her characters that he had no idea about. If he didn't mind abiding with her, the better question was: how long did she intend to keep him around? She was in charge here, she could terminate their deal in a heart-beat. For now, she didn't know the answer to this question. She had to wait and see what happens next.

She realized she in fact had no idea what he was feeling or thinking about. Usually it didn't take her much time to look into somebody's mind and tell what was inside of it. She also hadn't cared what other people were feeling throughout most of her life. With him the case was slightly different. He was a challenge, a riddle too difficult to solve as for now. She knew he had been broken-hearted, she was aware of the basic history that stood behind his revenge and of the failed vendetta as well, but nothing more. Had he ever got over it? Was he still broken-hearted? What was he really doing for the two hundred years? Did Neverland change something in him as in anyone else who had participated in that unforgettable journey? Maybe he was much simpler and less complex than she considered him to be. Maybe he was shallow and uncomplicated just as he sometimes pretended to be, and she unnecessarily looked at him through the aspects of her own personality.

From all of these questions she thought she knew the answer for one of them, or at least a partial solution. Quick flashback wanted to reach the surface of her thoughts, but she didn't let it uncover itself, deciding to think about it afterward, in a more appropriate time.

A moment later they arrived at the employment agency. Regina turned off the engine and looked at her companion.

"I will be waiting for you here until..." she quickly checked the time, "...five o'clock. You'd better be back at that time."

"I shall remember it, then." He smirked and left the car without more words.

She stayed in the vehicle for few moments, wondering what she should say or do once she would be inside the building. She wasn't quite sure her idea was a good one, but she couldn't think about anything better. In this place they would check her ID, her education, her documents, or at least that was what she had heard. It would ultimately tell her the truth she was in fact afraid of hearing.

It's do or die, she thought, took a deep breath and left the car.

The small building was very different from the bank's one with its dirty beige walls, old-fashioned window frames and faded-out curtains. The number of people inside was quite similar though. Lines to the particular doors were long enough to wind through the whole corridors, reaching the stairs. It was stuffy and hot inside, almost difficult to breathe. Regina looked around, trying to figure out where to go to achieve what she wanted. Finally she asked one man standing near the door who looked like a janitor, where she could sign in. He waved his hand towards the big board that said where specific offices were located. She thanked him and skipped through it quickly. Her object of interest was situated on the second floor.

There was only one person waiting next to the yellow door that were missing paint in more than a few places. She sat down next to the awaiting man and stared at the wall. She wasn't sure if she exactly knew what she was doing. Her latest actions seemed strangely chaotic, a lot not like her. But what had she done during the last month that had been like her? Not many things. Life had changed and was still changing. That was an undeniable fact she needed to get used to.

It was her turn surprisingly quickly. She went into the room and faced a young woman sitting at the small desk that was completely covered with papers and documents.

"Good morning." Regina smiled, trying to make the first impression positive. The woman returned the gesture and pointed at the chair for her to sit down.

"I would ask what brings you here, but I am afraid I already know," the woman said with a small laugh. She was young, clearly old enough to be good at her job, but not to be really bored with it.

"Yes, I guess it's true." Regina felt strangely tense. She folded her hands on her knees and sat more straight on the chair. "I took every document I could find," she added, removing the thick file from her bag. It was the only thing she had taken with her before leaving Storybrooke. She couldn't even answer why she had done it. It had been an impulse that she had simply followed.

"That's great, let's see them." The woman's enthusiasm wasn't a fake one when she took the file Regina handed her. "I would also need some ID."

"Of course." That was maybe the most important part of this whole farce. Regina handed the driver's license and felt her left hand clenching into a fist. She was nervous. Why was she nervous?

The woman typed something quickly in the computer and looked at the ID and into the file. There were all documents the curse had created for her false identity here: school leaving certificate, diploma from Harvard, attended additional classes, her history as the Mayor. Everything that Regina Mills had done or had supposedly done. And that was the moment of truth, the ultimate distinguish between the lie and the illusion.

The worker started typing digits and information while Regina could only observe her interlocutor's fingers moving quickly on the computer keyboard. She wasn't sure how far the woman was able to dig into her data, but she believed there was a possibility to confirm or deny the authenticity of her documents. She had specifically chosen this agency, because she had found out they verified everything the most thoroughly.

After a while she could tell the answer from the woman's face, even without the words. The lie, not the illusion. Just the lie.

"I can't find any data on the driver's license with such an identification number." The worker pointed at the ID. "There is nothing on the diploma with this number either." Her finger hung above the other document. Her expression suddenly changed. "I have to ask, but are these real documents?"

Regina looked at her externally unmoved. She faked a laugh. "I am so sorry, my nephew had to change them with the real ones. He is three and just adores printing different things on the computer and then giving them to us pretending they are the authentic documents. I am sure you know how these children are." She waved her hand with a smile. "You constantly have to keep an eye on them!"

The woman seemed not convinced. Her big, worried eyes followed Regina's every move.

"I will be back within an hour or two with the right documents. I'm so sorry I wasted your time." Regina stood up and looked at the worker apologetically.

"That's... that's fine," the woman answered uncertainly. Regina was quite sure that if the worker was older and more experienced, the police would have already been notified.

She gathered the papers, cast the woman the last remorseful look and left the room. Then she quickly ran down the stairs and went outside.

'Lie' was the only word she heard in her head while going down the street and finally resting on the stairs leading to some terraced house.

For a moment she was just sitting there, with the empty head and blank heart. Then the fears suddenly started to come, not politely one by one, but all of them at once. Everything was too overwhelming. The last day she thought there was no way she could be more broken than she had been. But she felt much more broken now.

The contrast is built upon the faith, she suddenly heard in her mind. Maybe he was right, maybe it really was built upon the faith. Why did she have this faith that didn't even have any reasonable basics? What was that faith exactly? A belief that pretending to be someone would eventually convert into being that someone she pretended to be? That was just... silly. And she didn't do silly things.

But, even though she was convinced she didn't do silly things, she had believed that her life here had been real in a way. And it turned out to be one big lie.

What was exactly this life she didn't possess? What even the word 'life' meant? What was the prove of a life? Having a history of the past deeds? Phone records? Cash billings? Some notice in the world's bureaucracy that would indicate she had ever been alive? Because if that was what the word 'life' meant... She had never been alive here. She had never had a life.

She was no one. The Evil Queen didn't exist anymore, because outside the Enchanted Forest the nickname lost its meaning. Regina Mills had apparently never been alive. So who was she? Who was that broken piece of human being that had gone by the name of Storybrooke Mayor? She denied the return to her homeland and now she wasn't a citizen of United States either. And she will never be. She couldn't legally asked for a new ID. No one would ever believe a story of a woman in her thirties who had a fake driver's license, fake credit card, claimed to have an account in a back where they had never even heard of her. The woman deprived of any history here. She wouldn't even be able to answer the simplest questions people asked in such situations: where were you born? What did you do for a living? Where were you living? What were you doing your whole life?

No, she definitely couldn't legally obtain the new ID card, it was simply impossible. He had been right again: if she belonged to any world at all, it was a criminal world. Because that was simply who she had been and will always be – a criminal. Apparently, any world didn't want to see her change for better.

I'm sorry, Henry, she thought and felt the tears welling in her eyes. I'm so sorry I let you down again. But... how can I change when no one lets me?

She felt like this lost young woman who hadn't had control over her own life and had tried to struggle only to lose every possible battle. The woman she had used to be before becoming the Evil Queen. For the biggest part of her life she had shared with this woman only her first name and a history. Now... now she shared some feelings as well. She had hoped so many times that she would be able to come back to being this Regina once more. But she hoped what would come back would be goodness, hope and a little bit of innocence at least. Not those feelings she had always detested while being the Queen. Not these constant humiliations, constant reminders she didn't have a place in now both worlds nor any shoulder to lean on, no one to ask for advice now, without Henry. It seemed like both universes shared the common goal of denying her everything.

During many years of being the Queen and the Mayor of Storybrooke she had learned how to pretend to be strong. But she could handle it no more. She was too shattered now, too wounded to hold her guards up. She didn't have enough power anymore. All of her previous day's intentions to never show her weaknesses on plain sight for him to see died out. She didn't possess enough strength to hide her fragility. And, what terrified her even more, she didn't even care about it.

She didn't lift her head when she heard someone sitting next to her. Her blank stare lingered upon the park ahead of her, although she didn't even see it.

"I assume it wasn't a misunderstanding after all."

She smirked bitterly. How was she supposed to teach him how to exist in twenty first century when she didn't even know how to live anymore?

"No, it wasn't," she answered, bitterness clear in her voice. "It was a reality."

"I won't claim I understand what you are so perturbed about," he started, sincerity in his voice. "But I say, if the world denies you what should be yours, take it without asking for its permission."

She smiled slightly and looked at him. Some strange thread of connection suddenly flourished in her heart. She did need one moment of honesty, of letting some of her thoughts be spoken aloud, or she would just stay on those stairs forever. After that, she would close again and rebuild her shattered walls. She realized she hadn't had an adult interlocutor with whom she would be frank since her father. It had been a long time since she had any honest conversation. She needed someone to play the role of her father, just this one time, just for a moment. And since there was no one else around, the man sitting next to her had to be enough.

"That's the rule I followed for many, many years," she said, little smile lingering on her lips. "I believed the world had to ask for my permission to breathe, not the other way around." She had never considered any of those times good, so why was she smiling? "But you already know that, we met during exactly this period of my life."

"Indeed." He smiled too and looked at the park. The roles changed for a moment – she was observing him, while he stared at the green area ahead of them. She thought that it was kinda funny to reckon they had met each other almost thirty years ago. "What have changed?"

Her smile disappeared slowly and her gaze shifted to the park. She was silent for a moment, repeatedly squeezing her hands and folding them on her knees.

"Henry," she said eventually. "He changed my life."

"He didn't change your life." She looked at him with surprise, but before she could deny he added, "He altered you." He put a stress on the last word.

The little smile returned to her lips. Henry had in fact changed both, her life and her. Or maybe only her and the life had simply followed.

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

The silence fell between them, but it wasn't awkward. She thought about this whole crazy day, following their journey through the city, their conversations, untamed changes in her feelings and emotions. She knew she deeply needed some modification in her perspectives if she ever wanted to stand up from where she was sitting, literally and metaphorically. Their discussion in front of the bank replayed in her head.

"It isn't easy to admit, believe me, but I think you might be right." She was the one who broke the silence. Even though her gaze was fastened on her own fingers, she saw from the corner of her eye that he moved slightly to have a better view of her and smirked.

"Enlighten me, if you may," he said, leaning against the railing. "What might I be right about?"

"That it's a good thing we are free and unknown." She inhaled a breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "Maybe the world denied me something that should be mine, but by doing that it enabled me to choose who I really wish to be. If I am no one at this moment, I am able to decide who I want to be in the next." She paused for a moment, choosing the right words. She was feeling better now, good enough to stand up and rebuild her tames, cut off this sincerity of the moment. But her own tongue proceeded without the knowledge of her mind. "The problem is, I don't know who I want to be."

Her own words surprised her. Did she really say that out loud?

"Well, you have plenty of time to discover it, but you shall not uncover this important mystery by lingering here any longer, my dear." He stood up and offered her a helping hand. She looked at him hesitantly, wondering if accepting his help would be another sign of vulnerability or just a thing that would come as 'normal' now.

She followed the second thought. She took his hand and stood up, then brushed the invisible dust from her clothes. She really hoped this helping hand meant he was trying to be a gentleman and it wasn't supposed to be an act of mercy. There wasn't a single thing she despised more than mercy.

"May I propose the next stop on our little voyage?" he asked when she stood straight.

She raised her brow with surprise, but answered casually and with a little smile, "Yes, of course." What could he mean? An alcohol store?

A content smirk appeared on his lips. "I highly recommend a place with a bed. You should get some sleep."

She frowned and said sarcastically, "Are you implying I look so bad I need to take a nap?"

"No," he denied, heading to the car. "I only wanted to allude to the fact you haven't slept in roughly two days. I don't see how I could drive you to the hospital when you faint from exhaustion."

Physically she wasn't tired at all, but he had the point. "Touché," she said in an agreeing tone and followed him to the car. Was he worried about her or was it just an imagination?

It had to be just her imagination. There was no other option.