Benjamin Gold was tasked with a very important mission that particular evening: looking after his little sister while Aimee was away. Or Belle, as she was to be referred to now. In truth, it was all still rather confusing even a year after his father and stepmother had started rattling off about the same curse Henry always talked about. Why couldn't he remember anything of the world they talked about? Despite what his father said about him being better off without his memories (he had said the same about Aimee, after all, and they both appeared marginally happier since she regained her memories), Ben had found it a little unfair quite frankly.

Though that was neither here nor there. Whatever horrors his forgotten past may or may not have held, he was still more than happy to help in the care of his sister in the present. Rosalind was unimaginably cute, and while he was initially wary for the same reason his father was when he first heard the news, he never once harbored any contempt towards her. Certainly she was given more attention than him nowadays, but that was to be expected given her age - she was only just learning how to walk properly. Plus, his father was noticeably happier in a way only he and Aimee (as she would always be to him while he still retained his memories of Storybrooke) could see, which was due in large part to Rosalind just being alive. If anything, Ben was appreciative of her.

He set her down gently on the floor just outside the living room and surrounded her with a multitude of toys to play with at her leisure. When she appeared to be content with her new setting, Ben ventured off for a moment back into the living room. In one of the two wing back chairs placed against the windows sat his father, sound asleep just as he had been for an alarmingly large portion of the afternoon. It was understandable his sudden increase of fatigue, but after awhile, Ben couldn't help but worry a little. As he lingered in the doorway, silently watching his father, it was all he could do to keep himself from jostling his shoulder just to see him stir.

With an inward sigh he turned back to Rosalind, giving her a small smile as she looked up at him through a teething ring. He figured he could leave as she was for just a short while as he cleaned up a little - ever since Aimee entered their lives in her assistance at the shop, he had immediately taken after her. And so he set to work clearing up what he could of his father's agonizing clutter.

It was at least half an hour before you could even see the wall again, and it was proud work. As he picked up a wooden tray, he paused a moment to step back and appreciate the fact that there still was a wall back there. He wore a satisfied smile. "I bet you've never seen something like that before, have you, Roz?" he asked, indulging in a momentary bout of silliness. As he glanced over his shoulder to see his sister s reaction, though, his expression quickly dropped at the sight of her missing.

Panicked, he hurried over to where he had left her and glanced in every which direction until he spotted her in the living room. His relief in finding her was short-lived, however, as it soon registered that she was just inches away from their father, holding tightly onto the coffee table on wobbly legs. Wait, Rosalind... he pleaded in a hushed tone, cautiously making his way towards her.

At the sound of her name, she whipped her head back and smiled broadly up at him through the tiny fingers in her mouth. A second later she barreled forward and into his leg, clinging steadfast to it. In an instant his father was awake, eyes fluttering open and temple lifting from the palm of his hand. For a moment, he looked dazed and confused, blinking as he finally turned his attention down towards Rosalind. Ben froze in absolute horror as she grasped at the chair while still holding onto his pant leg, trying to pull herself up. After her two failed attempts to climb up, Ben managed to recover his motor skills and hurried forward. "Dad, I'm so sorry, I..."

As he moved forward to relieve him of the child, his father brought up his cane, just barely holding the handle against his chest to keep him from getting closer. Ben understood that it wasn't an action performed out of malcontent or warning, that he was just trying to reassure him that Rosalind was fine as she was, but it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable all the same. He was never very good at offering assurance, after all. With a slight frown, he watched his father watch Rosalind.

The look he wore as he watched continuously try to climb up the chair and into his lap could only be described as mute amusement. He didn't help her at all - only held the cane out towards Ben and the hand that had been propping up his head where he had left it in the air. When Rosalind had finally managed to swing her foot up onto the chair, her grasp on his pant leg faltered, and she nearly slipped. At that his father flinched, his free hand bolting forward a fraction as if to catch her, but he didn't. She caught herself. And she continued on, affirming her footing on the chair before pulling herself up further and rolling into his lap. She then let out a triumphant yelp, giving a broad smile first to her brother and then to her father before it set in how worn out her endeavor had left her. She nestled against her father and drifted off to sleep shortly after.

Ben looked on with the same wary expression he had been wearing before silently turning his attention back up towards his father. "...a small feat?" he asked hesitantly.

"A small feat," he agreed with a nod, turning to him to offer the ghost of a smile, "but one nonetheless."