April 16, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

He couldn't rationalize it, and he knew that if he tried to understand it, he'd go insane.

In the week since Marian died, he'd been living in a fog, and he'd never been more lost.

Marian was always the one who handled things, and now that he was tasked with comforting their son, he wasn't sure where to begin. This was the sort of thing that, under any other circumstances, she would do.

Every time he and Roland spoke, Roland had a million questions that the couldn't answer—and had it not been for his sister and her girlfriend, Ruby's constant presence in their lives, neither he nor Roland would be functioning.

He knew that their help came with an expiration date; and though neither of them would ever tell him they could no longer help, he knew that it wasn't fair for their lives to come to a complete halt simply because his life had. So, he gave himself until the end of Marian's wake to pull himself together and figure out what he'd do next. He told himself that the funeral would bring closure, but he was wrong and still, he was grappling with how he'd cope with this new reality.

"So, you've got enough food to last through the end of next week," Ruby says.

"For most of these, just pop them in the microwave for five minutes and—" He's vaguely aware that his sister's voice has stopped. "Do you know how to make juice? I know Roland likes that terrible freezer kind that—"

"Yeah," he murmurs absently, staring out at the backyard, watching as it rains. "Five minutes in the microwave."

"Robin—"

'Hm?"

"Maybe we should stay—"

"Yeah," Ruby agrees. "Just until—"

"No," he cuts in, turning back to them. "I need to figure this out on my own, and I won't do that if you two are here."

"Robin, it's a little soon to—"

"It's not going to get any easier."

Belle sighs as she crosses the kitchen. "I'd be happy to—"

"No," he says again. "I need to figure this out, and the sooner I do, the better."

He doesn't give them time to argue. Instead, he leans in and gives his sister a loose hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then does the same to Ruby before excusing himself.

He draws in a long breath as he walks toward Roland's bedroom, and his heart breaks when he finds him, curled up in the old rocking chair where Marian used to read him his bedtime story.

"Roland—"

"I miss her."

"I know, son," he sighs as he comes into the room. "I do, too."

"My heart hurts."

"Mine, too."

"I can still smell her," he says, looking up. "On the chair."

A tight smile tugs onto his lips as he thinks about the last few nights and the way he clung to Marian's pillow, trying in vain to feel close to her.

"Do you think mama's in heaven?"

"I know she is," Robin says, swallowing through what he hopes isn't a lie. "If anyone could get into heaven, it's her."

"What's it like there?"

"In heaven?"

Roland nods as he considers—he hasn't really thought about this before. He's never been religious and he's not sure he believes in any sort of afterlife, but his skepticism isn't what his son needs.

"Do you remember the lake house we went to last summer?"

Roland nods. "It's hard to forget a place without electricity… or a bathroom."

Robin laughs. "Well, that's true, but do you remember how happy mum was there?" Again, Roland nods. "Well, it's like that."

"Is it?"

Sitting down on the little ottoman across from him, he leans in and grabs onto Roland's legs, pulling him to the edge of the chair.

"Do you remember how happy she was there, though?" He asks, his voice almost pleading—and an odd feeling of relief washes over him when Roland nods. "Well, heaven is a lot like that."

"What if you don't like lake houses?

"Well… it's… different for everyone."

"Oh."

"So, for mama, it's—" He draws in a breath, trying not to feel the pain of a happy memory that now feels so bittersweet. "Every morning she gets up and does yoga by the lake and—"

"She loved doing that."

"Yeah," he nods. "And then, she has a big breakfast—"

"Oatmeal with raspberries?" Roland asks, his eyes lighting up with hope. "That was her favorite."

"Yes, every morning she gets a bowl of oatmeal and raspberries, and then… she spends the rest of her day going on hikes and floating on a big inner tube in the lake and—"

"What if it rains?"

He blinks. "It doesn't rain."

"Good," Roland decides. "Mama always hated the rain."

"Yeah," Robin murmurs, thinking of the argument that he and Marian had gotten into when his job moved them to Seattle. "She did."

"What else is in heaven?" Roland asks. "Do they get to have bonfires? Mama always liked bonfires at night."

"Oh, there's a big one every single night," Robin says, grinning as Roland brightens, seemingly comforted by his description of the afterlife. "And, of course, they get to make s'mores."

"Good!"

"Yeah…"

"It sounds like she'd be happy there."

Robin nods. "It does."

Then, Roland's face falls—and all over again, his heart aches. "Do you think she misses me?"

"All of the time."

"But she won't come back?"

"She can't," Robin replies. "But she does miss you and she hates that she can't be here with you."

"She's going to miss my first soccer game."

Robin nods, and his throat tightens. "I know."

"You'll be there, though?"

"Of course."

"And… do you think… that… that… maybe she could… see it?" Roland asks shyly. "I mean, I know she can't actually be there, but—"

"Ooh," Robin breathes out. "I didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"About the movies."

Roland's brow furrows with confusion. "What movies?"

"Well, whenever they're really missing someone—like the way your mama will miss you—they can watch some of the things they're missing."

Roland nods, considering it as if it makes sense to him. "Do they sell popcorn?"

"Yes," Robin nods. "Of course, with lots of butter and—"

"Do they sell Sno Caps?"

"What would heaven be without sno caps?"

Roland giggles. "That's true."

"So, whenever your mama misses you, all she has to do is buy a ticket and get a big bowl of popcorn and a big box of Sno Caps, and… sit back and watch."

"Do you think she'll watch my soccer game?"

"Oh, of course she will. You know how much she was looking forward to it."

"Yeah," Roland nods, grinning again. "She was."

"She is."

Again, Roland brightens as Robin takes hold of his legs, pulling him off of the chair and into his lap as he cuddles him too his chest. He takes long, deliberate breaths, gently rocking his son and breathing in the soft smell of his hair—and tears fill his eyes when he smells Marian's shampoo.

"We're going to be okay, Roland," he whispers. "You and me, we're going to figure this out."

"Mama will help," Roland replies. "I know she will… especially if she's been watching these last couple of days."

Robin pulls back. "Is that commentary on my burnt toast?"

Roland giggles. "Maybe."

"Well, it's a good thing she's watching over us then."

"Yeah," Roland murmurs as he cuddles back in. "It is."

April 16, 1992- Greenwich, Connecticut:

They had an easy and relaxing evening—sushi for dinner followed by a movie, then afterward, he'd walked her home. It was one of the first really warm evenings of the year and they took their time, chatting lightly about the movie.

Being with him was… nice.

She liked him. She always had, and she'd forgotten what it was like to be in the company of someone she enjoyed.

When she'd left that evening, Henry—with Mal and Lily's prodding—asked when he was going to meet her new boyfriend. The question made her bristle and she wasn't sure boyfriend was the right term to describe what Daniel was to her. But she supposed, inviting him for a nightcap couldn't hurt, and when Daniel casually asked about meeting Henry, she decided that, maybe, that meant it was time. After all, what harm could come from inviting him in for a cup of coffee and letting Henry tell him all about the science project he'd been working on.

Her stomach fluttered when they reached her doorstep, and she bit down on her lip and hesitated. She wasn't sure how comfortable she was bringing a strange man into her son's life, especially if she didn't know how long he'd be a part of hers.

Dating was new again for her—and dating with a child was completely uncharted territory.

Sure, she enjoyed Daniel's company and on each of their dates she'd had a good time; but there was something about being with him that felt off, something she couldn't quite pin-point.

And it was driving her insane.

Daniel was exactly the sort of man she envisioned herself spending the rest of her life with—in fact, for part of her life he was exactly the man she envisioned herself spending the rest of her life with. He was good-natured and thoughtful, kind and considerate, and they had so many common interests. She had a good time when she was with him and because of their history, they were able to slide back into old and comfortable patterns. With Daniel, she knew exactly what to expect. There were no surprises or guesses. It was steady, and after a tumultuous year, Daniel was exactly what she should have wanted for herself and for her son.

Yet, there was something that didn't quite feel right—and when he rubbed his thumb at the back of her wrist and smiled gently at her, she knew she should feel something.

But she didn't, and she assumed the problem was with her.

She wasn't used to this sort of thing and she wasn't used to having her feelings considered. There wasn't any reason she shouldn't be happy with the seemingly fated turn her life had taken, and by the time they reached her doorstep, she managed to convince herself that what was feeling was… something other than what she was feeling, and with time, it would fade.

"So tonight was fun," he tells her, awkwardly shifting on his feet and looking to the glowing porch light. "We seem to be making a habit of this."

"Three dates in a week definitely sounds like a habit." She grins. "But I've enjoyed them."

"Me, too."

She meant that—she did enjoy it. When they were together she didn't think about her awful ex or looming deadlines or how much time she'd have between Henry's after school activities to grab a quick dinner for the two of them. When she was with him, she was fully present in the moment and when she wasn't, she found herself looking forward to the next time they'd see each other.

"So, um… do you want to come in? You don't have to, but—"

"I'd love to."

"It's a school night, so—"

"I won't overstay my welcome. I promise."

"Okay," she murmurs, reaching for her key—and as she pushes the key into the lock, her breath catches when the door swings open. "Oh."

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Mal says. "But—"

"Sure you didn't," Regina saying, a little laugh rousing into her voice as she pulls the screen door open. "Daniel, you remember Mal, right?"

"Of course," he says, grinning and extending his hand to shake hers. "How could I forget my girlfriend's best friend?"

Mal's brow arches as she looks to Regina.

"I mean, my high school girlfriend," he clarifies, his cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean—"

"Smooth," Regina laughs. "Come on in." Taking a breath, she looks to Mal. "Is Henry awake?"

"Of course he is," Mal says, shaking her head. "He and Lily are playing Zelda upstairs. But they think that I think she's reading him a bedtime story."

"Ah—"

"And judging by the sound effects coming from Henry's room, they think I'm delusional… and Henry is wiping the floor with her."

Laughing, Regina shakes her head. She'd anticipated a later-than-usual bed time since she'd gone out, and she was a little relieved that she'd still get to tuck him in. At nine years old, she knew those days were numbered and she wanted to cherish however many she had left.

"I'll just go and… um… grab him," Regina says, looking to Daniel. "He's been asking when he gets to meet you and—"

"I want to meet him, too."

"Can you grab my daughter, too?" Mal asks. "She still has math homework to do, and we really should be getting out of your way."

Regina grins and nods, silently thanking her—both for babysitting and knowing when to leave—and as she heads up the stairs, she hears Mal and Daniel falling into a conversation about an old high school performance of The Crucible, and by the time she reaches the stairs, she can hear them laughing—and that makes her smile.

Leopold had never wanted to have anything to do with her friends, and in the rare times she brought them around, he was often icy and disinterested. He wouldn't even fake it for just a couple of minutes to ease the awkwardness.

"Hey," she murmurs, poking her head into Henry's room. "Come on downstairs. There's someone I want you to meet." She offers Henry a quick wink before looking to Lily. "And I think your mom is about ready to go."

Lily nods as Henry rolls off the bed, and she can't help but smile was Lily gives him a high-five and turns off the TV.

Her stomach flutters as the three of them make their way downstairs, and when she reaches the kitchen, Mal is already wearing her coat.

"Oh, you don't—"

"Yes, I do," Mal says, reaching for Lily and linking her arm through hers. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Of course."

And then, as she turns around, she watches as Daniel turns to Henry. He introduces himself as an old friend of hers and shakes his hand, and by the time she's walked Mal to the front door, Henry is telling him all about the video game he and Lily had just been playing. She doesn't interrupt; she just lets them talk as she goes to the kitchen and pours two mugs of coffee.

She can't help but laugh when she returns because Henry is going on and on about the game, and Daniel is doing his best to follow along, but is staring at her son as if he's speaking Chinese—and when he notices her, he looks up briefly, offers a quick wink, then returns his focus to Henry.

And once more, she finds herself thinking that she'd be crazy not to be interested in him.