Well, much as I'd like to say my lateness with updating is due to pondering over this chapter, it wasn't. Working with District Nurses, then in a Nursing Home doing 17 hour days including the travelling, the last thing on my mind was writing. Even then, knowing it was going to be depressing was hardly motivation either...

Alas, it's here. Short as per usual, but done! Whilst I'm here, I'd like to thank those who've given this story attention. The response thus far was what got my butt into gear to get this written!

(Side note: For those who like to enhance reading with music, for this chapter, my recommendation is "Thomas Newman - The Letter That Never Came.")

I hope you enjoy the reading.

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"Mama! Please, where did you go?!"

Robin pulls herself in tighter, so close that her knees dig into her chest and her face is pressed firmly against her crossed arms. Her hood is drawn over her ears and her hands come up to clasp over them, but the attempts are futile. Nothing drowns out the sound of Morgan's frantic cries and the guilt that drums through her.

Her breath hitches as tears leak from her eyes and in the silence of pre-dawn with only Morgan's distanced yells, the salty drops seem to echo around her. It's not for the first time that she has hated herself so intensely, but the emotions are no less cruel. How can she sit, listening to those broken sobs of her son, crying for his mother when she could be the one to silence them?

But that's just it – he's not her son. Not in this lifetime. Images of her Lucina and Morgan rise to her mind; young adults she has so easily claimed as her own despite not truly being their biological mother. That's different though, Robin attempts to reason. True, she may have not been the one to sire the two, but she does not love them any less. She remembers her joy at finding Morgan, that Chrom and her had not only been blessed with a daughter, but a son too.

The Robin of this time would have surely felt that same euphoria, the exact same rush of love for a son that she hadn't even had yet, but couldn't have denied he was truly her son.

The breath she takes in rattles and shakes; made heavy by the sobs lodged in her throat. If the depth of longing this Morgan feels for his mother is anything like she feels for her children, then she feels absolutely horrible. His shouts come again, weaker now than before and her heart clenches painfully. Never has she heard him sound as defeated as he does.

Robin lifts her head and using her sleeve, rubs the tears from her eyes. She can't bear to hear it; that always present optimism crushed by the loss of hope. She's not his mother, not truly, but in a way, how could she be anything else? A Robin, exactly like herself had brought this Morgan into the world, a child exactly like the one she calls her own back home. Personalities alike, features identical, the only trait that marks the two Robin's different is the man they married. Idly, she wonders how that choice has transposed into this realm's Morgan.

Her Morgan had initially found it difficult to remember Chrom and she had known how much that had hurt the Prince. Often he had lamented how awful a father he must have been to have his son forget him. By that point, she had usually hit him and told him to stop being so stupid. The royal blue hair and Naga's brand in his right eye had been proof enough of who his father was, but it was more than physical traits that had really marked Morgan as Chrom's son. The way he would always be brave even if his hands were shaking, how he would never step down from a challenge and the look of doubtless perseverance in his eyes. And – she had made both her guys blush at this – how he would look and act around Nah made her think of how Chrom was around her. The gentle touches, words of comfort and a single look that passed a million thoughts that Morgan did always reminded her or her Prince.

She sighs softly and her eyes move to where she can hear Morgan. But no, she won't let herself think of the differences this Morgan will have. Even with them, in a way, she's still his mother and it is her duty to comfort her son when he is hurting.

Her body moves up to stand and she almost begins to make the first step when she pauses. It is a mother's responsibility to be there for her son no matter what… So where is this time's Robin? Why is she here, going to give comfort a son she doesn't know when his actual mother would be far better suited? There is no reason for her presence here. There is no threat looming over their heads that requires a tactician. Nothing that makes her anymore superior to the Robin that should be here…

Dread drops into her stomach like a lead weight. She is alive and well, but does that mean that this time's Robin is too? Or has something happened in her time and she had been sent to a realm as closest to her own that was possible? She quickly shakes her head to scatter the thoughts, but they still play heavily in her mind.

Just where is the other Robin? And what if her presence here is a mistake? If this time's Robin will return one day, then what purpose here does she have?

Again, the overwhelming sense of longing for her own time wells up and threatens to send her to the ground once more. Her body sinks downwards without her realising, all previous resolve lost to the myriad of emotions that she can't control.

She can't fathom what she is being punished for, but she can think of no other reason for being here than a reprimand. Maybe that's just it – the life she has was not the one she was meant to have. A Plegian marrying into the Ylissean bloodline, she had questioned it when Chrom had proposed to her and she still questions it now. Perhaps Naga has deemed it only right to remove her from that time…? As soon as Robin thinks it, she dismisses it. She does not believe the Divine Dragon has the capacity for such an act.

So then why is she truly here? "Why, dammit, why?" she says to no-one in particular, her head once more failing to knock against her knees.

It is like this – crying into her arms and her shoulders shaking – that Morgan finds her.

She knows it is him before she even hears his gleeful cheer of "Mama!" Even with different fathers, whose professions are as different as chalk and cheese, their footsteps are no different. Light, even, almost rhythmic. It brings a smile – small and fragile but still a smile – to her mouth to wonder if a person's footsteps are hereditary.

Robin can hear him nearing, his run slowing to a walk as even his voice changes from elation to worry. "Mother…? Are you alright?"

Too late for her to run and with a son much too wise to feign a different persona, Robin lifts her head. Instantly, arms are around her, laughs and sobs vibrating against her neck as Morgan shakes much the same way as she does.

Her boy in her arms, feeling the exact same way as the son doe back home, her own arms wind around him. And just for those few seconds, where the warmth of comforting familiarity helps to ease her aching heart, Robin smiles honestly and pulls Morgan close to her.

Until she opens her eyes to hair of orange.

"Mama, I can't believe you're here! Just wait until I tell father! We've.."

Robin hushes him gently, ducking her head so that he can't see the pain in her eyes.

"Mama? What's wrong? You're not hurt are you?

Her head continue to point to the ground, the small shake of her head the only indication she has even heard him. She takes a deep breath, releasing it through her mouth. Enough tears have been shed for today and so she lifts her head to face Morgan. His face is tight with worry; mouth pulled into a frown and a crease forming between his eyebrows. She watches his eyes flick between hers, analysing her features for any clues and notices his mouth twist further into its grimace.

Robin blinks her eyes furiously. No biting of his lip, no slight quirk to his head as he thinks. The absence of Chrom in his features was to be expected, but the lack of habits she thinks of as her own is startling.

In the days at the castle, her schedule cleared to spend her day with little Lucina, it was then her head tilt had become a more permanent trait. The daughter of an army commander and tactician, it had been little wonder than Lucina was as bright as she was. But even with such alertness, it had come to a surprise to both her parents when she began to mimic them. Each small hum or laugh was echoed by a little voice. Every swing of Falchion was followed with a shake of her own little fists.

And every tilt of her mother's head was mirrored with one of her own.

Chrom had been the first to notice how daughter would copy mother, laughing that she too, should have the name of a bird given her resemblance to one. From thereon, every time Robin had titled her head in a strategic meeting, no matter how serious or lost in thought, a smile would rise inadvertently to her lips. Passing a glance to her husband, he too would share the same smile, both reminded of their baby girl.

She almost wonders why this Morgan doesn't show such a trait, and is instantly reminded of the answer just by looking at his hair. Of course. Lucina isn't her daughter here. The reminder of how far she is from home pierces her heart once more.

Morgan continues to look at her, and though it is a welcome sight to see his inquisitiveness has not lost across the realms, nostalgia hits her hard.

"Oh Morgan," she begins, lifting her hand so that she can push his hood back fully and can't help but think that blue hair suits him so much better. "I'm not the Robin you think I am."

Morgan blinks. "But… What? I don't understand, Mother."

Robin smiles sadly at him, not exactly understanding herself either. But still she sits all the same, explaining what she can without mention of her own theories of where his mother is, and answering whichever questions Morgan asks. When she is done, finishing with her plans to find an answer, but deliberately omitting her quest to find Naga for having one tag-along is enough, Morgan sits silently.

Eventually, when some of the confusion has lifted from his face, a worry takes its place instead. "So you don't know where this realm's Robin is?" he asks and at her shake of no, his eyes drop to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Morgan. If I'm being truthful, I had hoped to avoid meeting you," Robin says honestly. She regrets having left the inn so early, believing that the hours long before sunrise would be void of anyone. In her telling of her arrival, Morgan had told her of how he knew she was here, and for that she can only curse her own ineptitude. She had thought herself wise refusing to head deeper into Ylisse's capital, but not wise enough apparently.

"Because you didn't want to give me false hope." He nods, understanding, but still his face crumples.

"I think it cruel to sit here with the face of the mother you know, but with none of the memories she has with you."

Morgan nods again and his hands stir restlessly, clasping together and apart over and over again. When his head lifts so that his eyes can meet hers, tears have flooded the brown orbs, but a smile is rising on his mouth. "In a way though, you're still my mother. Sure, you don't have the memories, but that's never been a great area for the either of us, has it?"

Robin chuckles. "You're right, and in that way, even without truly knowing you, I can't deny the love I have for you. Every Robin is lucky to have a son like you, Morgan." She reaches out to ruffle his hair and laughs when he immediately ducks away from her.

"You're just as bad as my actual mother!" Morgan protests, leaning back and watching her hands cautiously. But just as quickly as the moment of levity comes, it drops away to reveal the longing under his tone. With a wistful glance at Robin, in a whisper he asks, "She is out there, right? Just waiting for us to find her."

Robin bites back her frown, reminded of her own speculations earlier. She doesn't have the heart to tell him what her own grim thoughts are, but she doesn't feel the same gut affirming clench when trying to be positive. Her gaze falls to the boy sat before her. With his tactical prowess and endless perseverance, it is sometimes too easy to forget he is only a boy. One who's longing for his mother's presence can only be eased by the hope of finding her again. "I'd like to think that she is."

Morgan smiles, and perhaps it is the light of dawn beginning to break the clouds, but it appears brighter now than it had before. His own eyes move so that they can look to the sky, noting the stream of light that reflect off buildings as Robin does too. Chrom will be waiting for her, the time of pre-dawn now having long left to make way for the greetings of a new day.

Robin stands, shaking her coat free from the ground's dust. Perhaps he will think she had already left. She can't say whether the thought is welcoming or not.

"Um… Mo… Erm, Robin?"

She turns to Morgan, finding something endearing about the way the toe of his boot kicks at the ground absently. "I realise you're not my mother and that you don't want to be here, but well can I…"

Robin pulls him into her arms before he can say anything else, pressing her face to the top of his head. His hands cling onto her so tightly that she can feel her ribs be compressed together, but she doesn't even think about telling him so. Instead, she presses a firm kiss to his crown and gently makes comforting sounds.

It's Morgan who pulls away first and using his sleeve, wipes his face. It's a relief to Robin to see the small smile that tugs his mouth. He begins to turn away, continuing to look at her over his shoulder. "I guess I ought to get looking huh?"

"Maybe, or maybe let her come find you. There's a life waiting for you outside of waiting, Morgan. Even if her whereabouts are unknown, you can be sure that your mother loves you dearly." She smiles, wondering. "As I'm sure a certain manakete does too."

"Wait, how do you know about Nah?!" he says with a blush.

Robin laughs. "I didn't. But if you are like my own Morgan, it never would have been anyone else."

Morgan shakes his head and with a bemused chuckle, says, "Yep, definitely as bad as my mother is."

As always, thank you so much for reading.