A large pinecone cut through the humid summer air, sailing in a perfect spiral, and ricocheted off a thick tree trunk before finally landing in a bush.

"Nice," Farkle muttered, more to himself than his siblings beside him, and clenched his fist in victory. He started after the pinecone, before a sharp smack on his shoulder stopped him. He whipped around to confront its source. "OW, Fel-"

"Can we focus, please?" She raised an eyebrow at him, tilting her head up slightly to meet his eyeline. Off Felicia's opposite shoulder, Fergus couldn't help but briefly smirk in amusement, looking away quickly as to not be noticed.

"Focus on what? I thought we'd, you know, already come to a conclusion." He rotated his prized throwing shoulder that his sister dared injure, and quickened his pace to keep up with them.

"A conclusion, sure. But… what are we going to do about that conclusion…" Though Felicia's choice of words suggested a question, she trailed off, making even her question seem uncertain.

The "short" walk the siblings had gone off on earlier that morning had turned into a much longer outing than they had anticipated. Their parents had seemed a bit out of it anyway, so it wasn't hard slipping out of the house; hopefully they wouldn't get too hard a chastising for being out so long and not helping with the day's chores. How useful the three would've been, however, was debatable anyway, with everything that had been on their minds the last few weeks.

Their parents - well, their father mainly - had told them about the ogre tradition of "Leaving Day" several years ago, on the eve of their thirteenth birthday. In telling them about the tradition, he told them, in so many words, about his own Leaving Day. Sensing their ambivalence, their mother added that she'd even had her own "Leaving Day" of sorts, at around the same age, without even being aware of the tradition. (It neither lightened, nor worsened the mood.) Shrek emphasized that it would be completely their choice, and that it would even be their decision whether or not to take part in it at all. And Fiona offered the suggestion that they could even do it together - that is, if they wanted to do it, of course.

Aside from that, no one had really brought it up in the four, nearly five years since - not Shrek, certainly not Fiona, and not the triplets. Because they themselves didn't want to leave.

Well… hadn't wanted to leave.

It's not like they didn't want to be there anymore. Rather, everything that wasn't "there" - their home, Far Far Away, or evening Duloc - was where they did want to be. Even if they didn't know where that was exactly. They had always marveled at the stories Uncle Puss had regaled them with, both about his own adventures as well as those he embarked on with their parents, much to the chagrin of the ogres. Even Uncle Artie couldn't help but reminisce about the things he'd done and seen out there.

Their parents, however, made it quite clear that they were finally - finally - done with their unintentionally adventurous life. As their father put it, often enough that they could quote it verbatim, he and Fiona "had far 'nough drama 'n intrigue fer a lifetime." And while that may have been true, it was only true for their lifetimes. There were three others that neither of them could speak for.

The siblings passed under the fallen moss-covered dead tree that hung over the well-worn path - the boys needing to duck slightly even under the taller end - signaling they were in the last stretch before reaching home.

Felicia halted, in the long shadow just past the fallen trunk. "We need to tell them."

Her brothers stopped, a couple steps ahead of her, and slowly turned to face her. Their eyes told her they knew she was right, not that they necessarily wanted her to be in that instance.

Sensing Farkle tense in an obligatory argument, she continued. "You both know Mom would know something was up if we tried to keep it from them- her. And Dad… well. He'd just want to know, without us hiding anything."

Farkle reflexively smoothed his messy hair back from his face, avoiding looking at either of them.

Fergus's concerned gaze fell from Felicia's to the ground. "Aye." He put his hands in his pockets. His eyes darted around in thought, and he quickly looked back up at them. "But we don't even have a timeframe, a date yet—"

"Why do we need one?" Farkle posited - for once, not for argument's sake, but as a genuine question. There was no sarcasm in his voice or expression.

Felicia was about to counter him, out of habit herself, but stopped as she considered his point.

Fergus finally raised his head calmly. "If anything, letting them know - in general terms, our decision - would be… better, right? Even if we did have a date in mind, them knowing we had everything planned might come across as… a little eager." His siblings slightly deflated in acknowledgement. As much as none of them were particularly fond of vagueness, it was the best they had at the moment.

If only they could have all the positives associated with Leaving Day, without any of the irritating emotional technicalities.

"So." Farkle stated, trying to solidify what little could be in their predicament. "Who's gonna tell 'em?" He looked between his two siblings.

Fergus and Felicia both glanced aside at each other, and then settled their gaze at their brother. A moment passed, and Farkle recognized their dual focus with displeasure.

"Oh come on!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why's it gotta be me?" His fists landed on his hips, creating an eerily familiar silhouette.

"Well," Felicia offered plainly, "You asked." The corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly.

"I'll just, like, say something that'll make this way harder than it needs to be-"

"That's a good point." Fergus muttered, immediately looking up at Farkle in fear, clearly not having meant to say it out loud.

"Hey-" Farkle pointed a finger at Fergus, leaning forward toward him.

"Okay okay okay-" Felicia stepped directly in between them, gently pushing them apart in jest. She looked up - they'd made it to just about a hundred meters from the forest's opening onto the swamp. She saw the smoke billowing from the chimney, took in the way the quickly-setting sun shone off the grass and vines that surrounded the only home they'd ever known. Her brothers turned to look as well, and she felt them settle on either side of her.

"Well then," she began, wrapping her arms around herself, "Since we don't even have a concrete plan on what we're doing about… all this, let's just… see how it goes. Yeah? It'll happen how it'll happen. They'll-" she stopped - she was not about to cry, not now. "They'll get it."

Farkle and Fergus placed a hand on each of Felicia's shoulders, which she met with her own hand atop of them. Suddenly, she threw her arms around their necks and pulled them down to her level. They all laughed as the boys stumbled, replanting their feet in their familiar triangle formation as they pressed their foreheads together. They looked between each other in their huddle and smiled. They nodded in unison, and broke out of their formation as they headed toward the edge of their swamp.

Halfway to the house, past the reed-lined, scum-filled pond, their father's head poked out of the front door.

"Oh no…" Fergus sighed under his breath, waiting to hear him bellow irately at them.

"Kids! Hurry on inside, would ye? We, ah - we have somethin' t'tell ye…" Their father didn't wait for a response, and his head disappeared back into the house, the door remaining half open.

The triplets' stride slowed, as they glanced between each other in mild confusion - their dad certainly didn't sound incensed, or even mildly peeved. He sounded… anxious? Now that was a state they hadn't often seen out of him. As they processed this surprising reaction, they jogged the rest of the way to the front door.

"We, uh… we do too, actually—" Farkle breathed as he grabbed the handle. Felicia gave him a look behind him, to which he mouthed "What?" She shook her head quickly and waved her hand in gentle dismissal.

Their mother sat at the dinner table, in her usual seat, her hands around a mug of tea - a lumpy, hand-sculpted clay cup from so long ago that no one in the family could remember which sibling had made it, not even the kids themselves.

As the three silhouettes of her children entered the sunlit doorway, Fiona lifted her head quickly and smiled at them; she tried to obscure the fact she'd been lost in thought moments before, but her fingers repeatedly tracing the rim of the mug said otherwise.

"You're back." Her warm voice and smile almost made the three of them want to abandon ship right then and there. They could feel one another tense slightly in their close proximity.

Fiona's words made Shrek turn his head, mid-gulp, and the sudden sight of his children in the small house's foyer made him sputter and choke. He luckily recovered with little incident, though not without his breathless insistence he was fine as he made his way to his seat at the head of the table.

"Kids-" he coughed, giving himself a couple more chest pounds for safety, "Go on, have a seat."

Tenderness, to alarm, to continued confusion - the triplets subtly looked to each other for answers they knew none of them had as they found their way to their seats: Fergus beside their mother, Felicia and Farkle next to their father.

Fiona patted her husband's back, less to aid him and more to bring him back to the moment. "You good?" she smirked, speaking low.

He returned her glance. "Aye." He placed his hand on her knee beside his underneath the table. Their mother's hands returned to hold her tea, as if for warmth; Felicia noticed internally, however, the lack of steam coming off the beverage, as if it had been made quite some time ago.

An odd second passed, the siblings looking expectantly at their parents, and their parents looking right back at them.

"Uh… didn't you guys have something to tell us?" Fergus offered carefully, lest they sit there past sunset.

The couple's eyes suddenly lit up, half in remembering, half in embarrassment, and they looked at each other with a half smile.

"Oh! Well, yes," Fiona replied, "But, didn't you say you also had something, dear?" Her attention turned to Farkle, whose statement she'd heard when they entered.

"I um-" Felicia started, before Farkle could reply, "Well… you and Dad should go first, I think. You're the ones who called us in and all." Her brothers nodded in agreement - not too enthusiastically, fortunately.

"...Right! Yah. That's, ah… yah." Shrek acknowledged his daughter's observation, almost in spite of himself but covered with a nervous grin.

"Are you guys… okay?" Farkle asked. All four ogres turned to him, all surprised at his out-of-character concern.

"Of course, Fark, we're fine. We're… really good." Fiona's last sentence was directed at no one in particular it seemed, as one hand left her mug and rested on Shrek's below the table, and she inhaled deliberately.

The couple looked up to see their children's confused, concerned faces, not a sight they were used to seeing. They internally wilted, embarrassed at their clear lack of a grasp on the situation. They placed their joined hands atop the table, and glanced at each other quickly.

"Well, kids," Fiona said, smiling at each teenager individually, Shrek following suit. "Your father and I- or, well… rather-" She found her fingers tracing the mug's rim again, and stopped herself. She squeezed her husband's hand lightly.

"I'm pregnant."

Any trace of concerned faded from the triplets' expressions, and were replaced by… well, they couldn't really say what. They couldn't really say anything, having been rendered immobile and mute.

Their silence was Fiona's fervent cue to fill it. "I'm- well, we're as sure as we can be at this point, but… I'm pretty sure." She laughed deliberately.

Fergus looked across the table at Felicia and Farkle, still unable to speak, but he could feel his eyes widening against his will, and observed the same in them. He knew their lack of response wasn't helpful in any way, but he couldn't muster one if he tried.

"So…" Fiona continued, taking another deep breath, "You're gonna have a new little brother or sister." She looked between her children, their faces still frozen. Felicia attempted to open her mouth, before her father beat her to it.

"...'Or,' Fi?" He offered lightly. "D'ye really think we'll be able t'get only-"

"Shrek-"

"I'm- I'm just sayin' based on our- track record-"

"Shrek-"

"I mean that'd be nice, but I dunno how likely-"

"Shrek I said pregnant because we don't know any of that yet that's why I didn't say 'having a baby' I don't even know for sure if I am but I am pretty damn sure I am so please just-" Fiona's rapid rambling threatened to tip the scales.

"Hey hey hey hey, I'm sorry, hey hey hey…" Shrek held her face close to his, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

Through her stunned silence, as her coherency struggled to break through, Felicia observed a small look between her parents as they sat face-to-face, thoroughly unaware or unconcerned they were all sitting there. She saw, in both of their faces, a brief flash of… fear? Perhaps not the same fear that she guessed may have been there seventeen, eighteen odd years ago, but a similar kind. And a reassurance that the other - and themselves - would be okay.

Felicia looked to Farkle and Fergus, and while she couldn't say if the same thoughts occurred to them, she could tell at the very least, that the gravity of their situation had come crashing down upon them just as it had upon her in that moment. They all blinked, seeming to finally break free of their group catatonia.

Shrek and Fiona seemed to remember where they were and who they were with, and they sat back up slowly. Fiona pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled forcefully, insisting composure return to her.

"Now then...! Heh." Shrek suddenly piped up, his head whipping back to his children, instantly hellbent on lightening the mood. "Wish we'da kept all yer furniture! 'N clothes-"

"I did keep most of their clothes, hon-" Fiona said, half whispered.

"Oh! Aye, good t'-"

Fiona suddenly held up her hand and sighed, stopping herself and her husband, and rubbed her face with her other.

"I'm sorry, kids. This has been…" she glanced at their father, "Well, quite a day."

Shrek nodded slowly, falling into a thousand-yard stare off into the distance, before snapping himself out of it.

"Oh! Ah… yah, sorry guys. So! What was it ye lot wanted t'tell us?"

A/N: I was thoroughly fascinated by hanny spoon's concept of "Leaving Day" in Shrek Goes Fourth, as well as the impact it has on all the characters. (If you haven't read it… get on that.)

I'm not married to this timeline. I have other ideas for possible outcomes. I'm not sure I consider this my own "canon." It's just an interesting scenario. (I'm also not sure if this even matters, but I imagine in this scenario, the kids do not [yet?] know about the Rumpelstiltskin contract or any of that.)

Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you enjoyed. :) Big thanks as always to hanny spoon for her bit of established canon I borrowed, and everything else.

Also... happy five year anniversary to this fic! Wow. We really out here.