She lay upon her bed with her back pressed to the headboard and her mind somewhere else completely as she stared out of the window. Her lips were pursed, twisting as she bit at the skin of her cheek from the inside, a nervous habit she'd been punished for as a child and one she had been reminded to stop doing not so long ago when her mother had still been alive…or, a while ago it seemed if the others were to be believed and she hated that they knew her life now better than she did, knew more than she truly believed she'd tell them but then how could she be sure? This new version of herself was actually friends with those she'd once hated, hunted…or close to friendly at least.

She'd left the UnCharmings, the pirate, the saviour and her son to continue talking over things with Robin (his son had been lost in his own little world, still playing in his imagination when she'd glanced over at him before leaving) who'd seemed more uncomfortable than she'd liked with her presence in the room. The memories of the dark curse coming were fresh in his mind he'd told them, the uncertainty and fear for his son's and his own survival as it had found them in the Dark One's castle so very clear to him still and seeing her, being in her home with her son and people who apparently liked her, well, she knew it was confusing and more than likely frustrating to him though he left that part out, his eyes though, she could read most of what she wanted to know there. His son on the other hand, well, he'd seemed pretty enamoured with her and she couldn't help but wonder just how close she'd been to the boy.

She shook her head as she breathed through her own frustrations, eyes still on the moving world outside and if it kept turning like this, so rapidly, she felt as though she would fall off the very edge.

There were pictures decorating the halls that she'd had to spin, smiling faces that she'd had to press to the papered surface to keep from falling into insanity and to top it all off, there had been one picture in particular that she'd missed that morning in her haste to get away from the strange man she'd found in bed beside her.

It lay in her lap now, held loosely in hands that remained relaxed despite the tension that squeezed at her muscles, at her nerves. Her name (with what she assumed to be his attached to the end, where Mills should be written) was printed in the corner, other information that she hadn't paid any attention to making up the rest of the black and green image but in the middle, almost hidden in the strange shapes and faded smears, was a tiny little peanut growing into something she never believed she'd be able to create; a baby.

A baby…

She wasn't showing yet, her stomach still moderately flat and she wondered how long it would be before a bump started to form, how long before it all became too real for her not to believe it. And then, a horrible little voice in the back of her mind, one that sounded suspiciously like her mother and terribly like her long dead husband. It sounded like the handmaidens still loyal to their dead Queen who'd pull her corset a little tighter than necessary during her morning dress, like the stinging whispers of those wondering why the King had taken such a poor copy of Eva for his wife. She'd shut them up in the end and she'd shut this voice up too but she still couldn't help but wonder "what if I don't carry to term?"

She'd had miscarriages before, when she was barely a woman, still very much a child and she'd believed the first to have been conceived from the only night she'd ever had with her Daniel before he'd been taken from her though she never knew for sure. She stopped counting after her third and was grateful, begrudgingly so now after all that had happened between them, when Rumple had given her a potion to curse Leopold's seed and not too long after he'd died and mother had shown up, she'd created her own version and made herself barren.

"Perhaps it wasn't as successful as I'd thought," she pondered, fingers tapping lightly at the skin of her abdomen and she wasn't sure when they'd crept beneath the bottom of her shirt but still, as she touched her taught belly, she couldn't help but to allow a small smile to tug at her lips. A baby.

The house was quiet when she finally built up the courage to take herself back down the stairs and though she was somewhat relieved not to have to face any more questioning or confusion at the moment, she found herself a little disappointed at the very same time.

Her house didn't even smell the same anymore. There was still the subtle scent of lavender and of vanilla from the plug-in air fresheners that she'd favoured since she'd first come across them in the supermarket her first week here and there was still the smell of boy. Her Henry and, she supposed, little Roland. On top of that though, and the most unsettling of all that she could detect, was the smell of man. Of Robin.

He smelt of pine, of sandalwood, of wood smoke and of nature. It wasn't a horrible smell, not in the slightest, she rather liked it if she allowed herself to think on it but she wouldn't admit it fully, not to herself nor any other and in all honesty her head was an absolute mess at the moment. It felt like only hours ago she was laying strapped to a table, so very helpless and hoping that her son knew how much she truly loved him, absolutely heartbroken over the fact that there was a good chance that he didn't, not fully.

But then today, this morning, when he'd come walking through her front door, a good few inches taller than she remembered him and with a voice preparing for change. He'd held her hand, he'd comforted her in a way she didn't think he knew how to and he'd handled the situation far better than she or Robin had.

It hurt to think of the time she'd missed so very unwillingly, the time she'd lost with him, watching him grow into this intuitive, caring young man who loved her again, actually, genuinely loved her and she couldn't even remember the road that had finally brought them here to this place. To little notes on her fridge that read, simply love you Mom x, or the plate of food she found on the kitchen counter, covered by a sheet of tin foil and consisting of her favourite snack foods. Beside it was another of Henry's notes, his scrawl only a little tidier than what she was used to and it read: Robin wanted to meet with Little John and Will (two of his merry men who came over with the second curse…and you don't know about that…I'll explain more later!) so I've taken him and Roland over to Granny's. I made you a plate of your special comfort food, eat it, you'll feel better.

I love you, forever and always, Henry x

She smiled at the sheet, her fingers stroking over the indented letters before she actually registered them, realised that there was a possibility that they wouldn't be back for a while, that she had a little time. There was one place that she'd been contemplating going since she'd realised that their memories had been stolen, one person who could possibly give her the answers to the endless amounts of questions whizzing through her mind but to ask him, to make him aware of her situation would only open herself up to attack and could she risk that in her state? Was it worth risking that?

There was only one way to find out…