A/N: Now that I'm not rushing to submit anything, I finally have time to give you all a

BIG HELLO AND THANK YOU

because dear God, I was not expecting the amount of notifications last night telling me you guys had reviewed, favorited, and put my story on alert. After one short chapter! I'm flattered – it's a nice way to return to this website (haven't ventured here much since my CSI days).

As for this story, this chapter is going to be short, too, as a kind of filler while I decide exactly where I want the plot to go. My goal is to have it flow like an episode would – which means that while I can't necessarily guarantee a happy ending, I can guarantee a Gold/Real World Belle reunion at some point. Where that points falls is up for debate.

Thank you for your support! Should you feel like reviewing, I'm open to constructive criticism.

CHAPTER TWO

-A FEW MONTHS LATER-

Regina Mills was behind schedule, and she wasn't pleased about it.

An impromptu meeting with Sydney Glass on the progress of his espionage work around Emma Swan had delayed her departure from her office substantially. Sydney bore no news of value to Regina; she suspected it was his way of not only displaying his perceived importance, but a more subtle means of spending time with her. On the one day of the month where she'd made plans to visit the asylum.

Storybrooke Asylum was, by no means, a well-kept secret in the quaint coastal town; rather, it was a wholly ignored institution. If you weren't looking for it, it wasn't there. But if you knew it was there, you knew exactly where to go. Regina kept her fingers dipped in several of Storybrooke's metaphorical pies, and the asylum was no exception.

Regina could not recall her first time at the asylum. It seemed as though memories of earlier visits to the quiet girl in Cell Ninety-One had effortlessly faded into the bubble of time that had enveloped the town until Emma Swan's appearance. An unfortunate side effect of the curse. As Regina descended the concrete steps to the nurse's desk, she felt calm, perhaps even content. She had no concerns about Gold's knowledge of this place – there were things in Storybrooke that even he knew not.

Once a month was all Regina required to know the girl was well and truly locked away.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Kesey," Regina said, smiling with the benevolence of a hungry lioness. "You know who I'm here to see."

Nurse Kesey, usually a cool, collected woman, looked apprehensive. "Madame Mayor, there have been some . . . changes in the patient's behavior."

Any contentment left in Regina's expression fell instantly. "What changes?"

Nurse Kesey rose. "It might be better if I accompanied you to her cell."

Regina did not bother to wait. She swept down the hall. Nurse Kesey rushed to catch up to her and then began explaining the situation. "It started a few weeks ago," she said, "not too long after your last visit. Her temperament is becoming increasingly erratic. I've caught her crying for no reason in the middle of the night. She keeps some of the other patients awake."

They rounded the corner. "She's done that before, has she not?" Regina asked.

"Yes, but never with this intensity."

"What else?"

As they neared Cell Ninety-One, Regina heard it. It was faint at first, and barely perceptible. Regina stared back at Nurse Kesey with a mixture of fury and alarm. She took a few steps closer.

The girl was singing.

Her voice was soft, raspy, and full of melancholy and despair. Regina imagined she was hearing a songbird's dying melody. Tentatively, Regina stood directly in front of the girl's cell, put her ear to the door and listened with bated breath. The lyrics were crystal clear.

"I'm a little teacup, short and stout

Here is my handle, here is my spout.

When I get all steamed up, hear me shout,

'Tip me over and pour me out.'"

When the girl had finished, she merely started again from the beginning. And again. And again. Regina stood transfixed for several minutes.

"Teapot," Regina said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" Nurse Kesey said.

"The song," Regina said, slowly and deliberately, "is about a teapot. Not a teacup."

Nurse Kesey looked confused. "I beg your pardon, Mayor, but I hardly think that matters."

Regina instantly rounded on the nurse. "It matters more than you know," she snarled. "I want round-the-clock supervision on her. Any more changes in her condition must be reported to me immediately." Regina briskly walked back down the hallway to the exit. Before slipping around the corner, she added, "Oh, and one more thing: if you withhold any more details from me, I'll have your job. And then some."

The fear on Nurse Kesey's face was evident. Regina had left an impression.