Disclaimer: I own very little, least of all, the delightful characters in the story you are about to read.

Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, please assume that all events are occurring in modern-day Storybrooke in the year 2015 unless otherwise noted.

Kingdom of Elyria

Thorncrest Hall

Yes, it's been years, and Beatrice is no fool. She knows that time is a fickle friend; mercifully kind and gentle with some while it ravages others without even a shred of remorse. Her 66 years have taught her that. Still, the unmistakable decline of the woman before her, the woman she hasn't seen these 43 years, is beyond shocking and she purses her lips together tightly and straightens her spine praying that her shock doesn't register on her face.

As the old woman struggles to sit upright in her bed amongst the finest linens and pillows that her money and notoriety can afford her, she wheezes with the effort; her breath coming in jerky stops and starts and Beatrice Atherton hears an undeniable death rattle if ever she's heard one. Cecilia Eldebury is surely not long for this world. Already, the stench of death and decay emanates from the body her soul isn't prepared to quit.

"Well, don't just stand there as rigid and as silent as a stone!" The old woman coughs laboriously. "Unless time has taken your hearing, I trust you heard my request, girl"

"Aye, Cecilia. I heard you, but you will call me 'girl' no longer. I may have answered your summons, but I am no longer your servant, and I'll be damned if I'll be treated as such!"

"Such insolence! How dare you speak to me in such a common manner. I am to be addressed as Your Ladyship, as you well know!"

Beatrice stubbornly holds her ground. "Beggin' you'll pardon - Cecelia - but you lost the respect due any person I consider to be my superior, the day you chose to hand me my walking papers along with a wee newborn bairn swaddled in a tatty wool blanket you deemed unfit for your precious lap dogs to lie upon."

"I could have you flogged for a disgrace such as this!"

"You could. But, you won't. Not if you don't want the public to find out what you did all those years ago. How do you think the court would feel, parliament, the dutiful subjects who afford you the right to call yourself Marchioness of Elyria? How do you think Lord Eldebury will feel? How do you think they will react when they find out that you gave birth to the son of a lowly common man; a common man who, I might add, was not your husband."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Beatrice scoffs snidely. "You do not scare me, Marchioness. I am no longer beholden unto you. And, I assure you, you have absolutely no means by which to make me do your bidding. So, go ahead; have me flogged if it warms the lonely recesses of your cold and shriveled heart, but I do not know where he is. I lost touch with him many years ago. And furthermore, even if I did know where to find him, I will die before I call that precious boy back to your side!"

Having said all she cares to say, the younger, healthier of the two women turns on her heel and strides for the door.

"My goodness, Beatrice, I knew you were not particularly fond of me but, I'm afraid that it never occurred to me that you could hate me so venomously."

Hand on the doorknob, not turning to face the bedridden octogenarian, Her Ladyship's former handmaiden breathes quietly, "I don't hate you, Cecelia. You are a sad old woman who's dying, and like so many before you, you're seeking absolution in the 11th hour. It's a pardon you know you don't deserve. You gave away the greatest joy of your life, and you are too vapid and self-absorbed to realize that you have no right to ask for him now and, for that, I pity you."

"I need him."

Beatrice's laughter is harsh and humorless. "Yes, you certainly do; more than you know. But all those long years ago you asked me to see to it that he didn't need you. I've done as you asked me to do, and even if I could, I wouldn't undo it now."

"You don't have to do it for me, Beatrice but, I beg you, find him and bring him home. Do it for your friends and your neighbors. Elyria needs him… and you know it."

Storybrooke, Maine

Robin Locksley hands his wife a chilled glass of lemonade before he lowers himself to the ground beside her beneath one of the many young apple trees he planted ten months before when she agreed to marry him, and reside here in their magnificently rejuvenated old-world apple barn with him and their boys. Courtesy of a honeymoon cruise, and a little good magic, not to mention their own abiding passion for one another, her belly is now heavy with a child she declares, with unwavering certainty, to be a girl and Robin just couldn't be happier about it.

Reclining beside her on a plaid wool blanket, he props himself up on one elbow and rests a tender hand against her swollen middle. "How is the little firefly doing this morning?

When said firefly kicks in response to her father's touch, Regina closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and grimaces. "She doesn't kick like a firefly. She kicks like a 120-pound world champion soccer player."

"Well, that's okay. She can play soccer if she wants to."

"Yes, she can, but I would appreciate it greatly if you did not encourage her to play soccer while she's still inside my uterus! Robin, she kicks every time you touch me."

He flashes his lazy grin and croons softly; talking more to his unborn daughter than to his wife. "That's because she's smart. She knows who her daddy is. She's just saying hello, aren't you, sweetheart?

When he kisses her belly through the loose-fitting material of Regina's casual but elegant ankle-length bohemian style dress, his daughter kicks again and her mother groans; fanning herself and begging for relief. "It's bad enough this summer heat won't relent, Robin. If you're going to insist on touching me every time you possibly can, could you at least ask your daughter to say hello a little more quietly; a little more gently."

As she sips lemonade, Robin takes one of the magazines on the blanket beside her and fans her with it; adding to her efforts to keep herself cool. "I don't know why you insist on sitting out here. If you're so uncomfortable, come in the house, mi'lady. What did we go to the trouble of installing an air conditioner for, if you're not going to use it?"

"I've told you. I'm tired of being cooped up inside. She's calmer out here. At least, when you're not touching me." Regina yawns. "Robin, really, I love you…" She growls in frustration, "but go away and leave me alone! And, whatever else you do - stop touching me! Just let me sit out here in the shade and take a nap!"

Robin kisses her temple as he eyes the forgotten tray beside her with the plate of uneaten food on it."

"Will you at least take a few bites? Real bites? Stop nibbling like some tiny little bird. She needs food."

"Correction, she did need food - at 7:00 this morning. Robin, this is the third breakfast you've brought me in three hours! I'm nibbling basically just to make you feel good because, if I take another bite, I'm going to explode!"

He smiles. "So, you're saying, I'm smothering you?"

Regina nods aggressively. "Yes, this is what I'm saying!"

"Would you like me to make myself disappear for a while?"

"A few hours would be perfect. Take the boys with you…" She smiles softly. "But don't stay gone so long that I start missing you."

"You know, at the risk of irritating you further, granting your every wish would be a whole lot easier if you'd make up your mind what you want."

"I don't know what you mean."

He raises an eyebrow and offers drolly, "Go away, but come back before you have time to miss me. The problem with that, is sometimes it quite literally only takes two minutes for you to miss me. Other times, it takes six hours. And, try as I might, I have devised no reliable way of telling which one of those timeframes is applicable at any given moment."

Suddenly contrite, Regina pouts apologetically. "I'm a shrew! I'm a big, fat, pregnant, evil shrew; and I'm driving you crazy. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to divorce me before we even see our first anniversary."

Robin chuckles softly. "You're the most beautiful shrew I've ever laid eyes on. And, I wouldn't dream of it! Take your morning nap. Go to sleep. I promise I'll still be here when you wake."