Regina's eyes flutter open and she sighs, grimacing as she's reminded of the hard ground beneath her and the faint smell of dirt and pine that surrounds her. Sitting up, she stretches out her arms and yawns, turning her head from side to side as her neck pops and her shoulder blades crack–and for the life of her, she can't remember why she agreed to do this.

Looking around, she finds herself alone in the tent. Robin's sleeping bag is still out and spread out beside her, and the boys' bags are scrunched up in a tangled mess at her feet. Through the netting of the tent, she can see Henry and Roland standing next to Robin, watching curiously as he fiddles with something over the campfire–a smile draws onto her lips.

Taking a breath, she gets up, once more cracking her back and rolling her shoulders as she unzips the front of the tent–and immediately, they turn to look at her.

"Finally joining us," Robin muses as he looks up from the fire. "We were starting to worry."

Regina's eyebrows arch as she looks between them. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight."

"That's… not terribly late," she says, feeling her shoulders squaring defensively.

"But we've been up for hours!" Henry says, grinning up at her. "We picked berries this morning."

"Before the sun was even up!" Roland adds. "We had to use flashlights."

Henry nods. "Robin showed us which berries we can eat and which we shouldn't…"

"'Cause they might kill us," Roland says in a very serious voice. "Like the little red ones." A little snicker escapes her as she comes toward them, shaking her head and watching as Robin sifts through the cooler. Scooping up Roland, she sits down, beside Henry, pressing a quick kiss to his hair as Roland settles back against her with a contented sigh. "But the wild raspberries aren't poisonous, so we picked those."

"Ah," she says as her arms form around him. "That was probably a smart decision"

"Yeah…"

"What are you doing over there?" She asks, still watching as Robin works behind the flame. "I… would offer to help but…"

A chuckle rises up from him and he shakes his head. "I think I can manage," he tells her, looking back at her from over his shoulder, offering a quick wink. "Cooking over a campfire is… kind of my specialty."

"Is it?"

"It is," he says, finally turning around to reveal four foil-packages. "I lived in the woods for a long time," he says, eyeing Henry. "And if I wanted to eat…"

"You had to learn," Henry finishes.

"Exactly." Regina feels her stomach flop as her eyes slide to Henry. "Of course, back in those days, I didn't have the luxury of buttermilk rolls that came out of a tube." At that, Henry giggles. "But I could suffice with day-old bread I'd stolen from the baker or could con someone into giving me…"

Regina watches as Henry's eyes widen and his smile fades. "I used to do that, too… after I ran away."

"Steal food?"

"Nothing major," Henry says quickly, looking from Robin to Regina and then back again. "Just… stuff that no one wanted or stuff no one would miss." A guilty little grin edges onto his lips. "Sample day at the grocery store was my favorite because I could get things without have to be sneaky or feeling bad about it…and no one really paid attention to if I took one or two or… five of something."

"Oh, sweetheart," Regina murmurs as guilt stabs at her core, thinking about him wandering around, stealing grapes and little cups of cereal–and how she could have prevented all of that from ever happening. "I'm…"

"It's okay," Henry's quick to say. "It wasn't that bad…"

"Henry…"

"Henry," Robin cuts in, his eyes focused on Regina. "Can you help me with this?"

Regina watches as he gets up gingerly and goes to Robin, and a soft smile pulls onto her lips as Robin hands him a tube of biscuits. She can't help but laugh as Henry jumps when he smacks the tube against the side of the cooler forcing the tube to open with a loud pop–and her heart warms as Robin's palm presses against Henry's back as he shows him how to wrap the biscuits in foil. Robin offers her a quick wink as Henry folds a biscuit on his own, then he turns to the berries, placing them over the top of the biscuits and wrapping up the top. When everything is wrapped, Robin instructs Henry to grab a cast iron pan, and Roland giggles as Henry struggles with the heavy pan. Robin helps him to situate it in the fire, and together, they place the foil-wrapped biscuits and berries carefully into the pan.

"Now what?" Henry asks, looking curiously to Robin.

"We just have to wait."

"Oh," Henry murmurs, turning back to the fire and watching as the flames surround the pan. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"Why did you steal food?"

Regina feels her breath catch in her chest, and for quick moment, Robin looks to her. She nods and his attention turns back to Henry. "Because I ran away from home, and… needed to survive."

Henry nods. "Is that why you lived in the woods?"

"It is."

"Did you… like it?"

"I did," Robin says with a nod. "I was surprised at home much I liked it."

Henry nods, and for a moment, he doesn't say anything–and then, he looks to Robin. "Did you live in these woods? The ones we're in now?"

"No," Robin says easily. "I grew up far away from here… kind of near where your mom grew up."

Henry's eyes widen and Regina's stomach flops. "Really?"

"It's true," Robin confirms with a nod. "Back then, it seemed like we lived a million miles away from each other, but really, it was just a few miles."

A grin tugs onto Henry's lips and a little giggle escapes him. "It'd be funny if you guys bumped into each other and didn't even know it." He looks between them. "That happens in movies all the time…"

Regina grins as Robin chuckles. "Actually, that did happen… everyone knew your mom." Henry's jaw drops and he looks between them and her heart starts to beat a little faster. "Of course, I was… far too afraid to ever talk to her. I mean, why would a beautiful girl like her want to talk to some… dirty thief who lived in the woods."

"Well, she likes you now…"

"She does," Robin says, offering Regina a quick wink before turning his attention back to Henry. "Life has a funny way of working out the way it's supposed to, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Henry murmurs, nodding as he looks to the fire. "So, is that why you live in the woods now?"

A grin pulls onto Robin's lips, and his eyes slide to Regina. "I suppose it is. I… never really thought about it."

"I tried living in the woods, once," Henry says. "I didn't like it. It was… really lonely."

Again, Regina's chest clenches and she hugs Roland a little tighter, and for a brief moment, she allows the guilt and self-loathing that she normally keeps tucked away to bubble up inside of her as she silently scolds herself for not having the courage to keep him, and for not stopping all the things that inevitably happened to him as result of her cowardice.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles and laughing–and it's easy enough to push away the regretful memories and focus on the present eat their biscuits and berries, and Robin tells the boys a few funny stories about life in the woods–one involving poison ivy in a very uncomfortable spot that sends them into a fit of laughter, and another about learning to fish the hard way. Then, when the sun is high and the fire is dwindling, they start to pack up camp and head back into Storybrooke.

They stop at Granny's on the way home, ordering a proper and more filling breakfast–and then, when their plates are cleared, they go their separate ways.

By the time they get back to the house, Henry's eyes are drooping. He yawns as she turns the key in the lock, and almost instinctively, he reaches for her hand. Her chest tightens as he tugs her toward the stairs, wordlessly leading her to his bedroom. For a moment, he just stands there, looking around the room–and then he looks up at her, offering a tired little grin as he asks her to nap with him.

She nods and leads him over to the bed, tucking him in before sliding in beside him–and she smile as he curls into her side. Her arms wrap around him and her own eyes close, taking long deep breaths as she rubs his back and feels her own exhaustion setting in.

"Mom?" Henry asks in a groggy voice. "Later on, can you tell me more about where you grew up?"

"Sure," she manages to say as her eyes open and a knot forms in her stomach. "If you want me to…"

"I do," he says, cuddling closer to her as she presses a kiss to his hair. "I want to hear more about your horse."

She laughs a little and nods, swallowing hard as her stomach sinks with the understanding that they're getting closer and closer to an implausible truth that will change everything–and as she holds Henry, she's not sure that she's ready.

But it's not like time is on her side.

A grin tugs onto her lips as Henry wanders into the kitchen, batting at his eyes and obviously disoriented. He watches as she slices a tomato, his brow furrowing as his eyes slide to a salad bowl.

"What time is it?" He asks, finally looking to her. "Are you making dinner."

She nods. "It's after six."

Her grin brightens as his eyes widen. "I slept for…"

"Almost nine hours."

"Wow…"

"Looks like I'm not the only one who didn't sleep very well while we were camping."

Nodding, he yawns and climbs up onto a stool at the counter. "What are you making?"

"Cobb salad."

"Oh," he murmurs as he stares into the bowl. "Why is it called that? Does it have corn in it?"

Regina blinks. "I… don't know, actually. I just know that I like it."

"Me too."

"There's not much you don't like, though."

Henry shrugs and nods. "I don't like tuna fish."

"I… didn't know that," Regina says, looking up at him. "Why not?"

"It smells like cat food," Henry says simply, earning a laugh in response. "My foster dad used to love it," he adds. "He'd made these sandwiches with warm tuna…"

"Tuna melts?"

"Kind of…" Henry says. "Just… he used the microwave instead of making them on the stove because he was too lazy." Henry's nose scrunches as her eyebrows raise. "Then, for the rest of the day the house smelled like cat food."

"That sounds…"

"Gross?" Henry supplies. "It was."

Regina laughs a little and reaches for another tomato. "Well, I will make a note to never make tuna sandwiches…"

"Or casseroles."

"Got it."

She watches as a satisfied grin pulls onto Henry's lips. "Can I help?"

"You can make the dressing," she suggests, pushing a little cup toward him. "I mixed everything, you just have to add the buttermilk."

She grins as Henry nods, hopping off the stool and going to the refrigerator. He leans up onto the tips of his toes as he reaches for the carton of buttermilk and kicks the door closed as he makes his way back to the counter. He climbs up onto a stool beside her, and she hands him a measuring cup, tapping on the glass at the red mark that indicates a full cup.

"What's in the oven?" He asks, not looking up at her as he carefully pours the buttermilk. "It smells good."

"Biscuits," she tells him. "I was… inspired by Robin's breakfast." She grins, watching as Henry's eyes nearly cross as he tries to measure out exactly enough buttermilk. "But mine aren't the tubed kind. I made them from scratch."

"Those are better," Henry says with a serious nod. "But don't tell Robin I said that."

"I won't… though, I sort of think he'd agree."

Henry giggles as he sets the butter milk down and reaches for a bowl. "That's true," he says with a nod. "It's pretty cool how much he knows about the woods, though."
"It is…"

"He showed us all sorts of plants and bugs and rocks while we were looking for berries." A smile edges onto Henry's lips as he looks up at her. "I got to hold a frog!"

"Oh, that's… cool," she says in a tentative voice. "Was this… before or after you picked the berries."

"Before," he says as a giggle rises into his voice. "But I washed my hands in the river."

"I don't imagine there was soap around…"

Henry just shrugs and reaches for the whisk. "Its funny that you and Robin lived so close to each other."

"It is," she nods, her shoulders immediately tensing. "Of course, I didn't know that at the time."

"So, that means you lived by the woods."

"Everyone did," she murmurs, as she reaches for the plate of cooked bacon in front of her and starts to chop. "My parents had a big house that was surrounded by them."

"Big like this one?"

Regina nods. "Bigger, actually."

"Wow! That must have been…" He stops and looks up at her. "Was it just you and your parents?"

"For the most part," she says slowly, trying to decide how much she wants to tell. "We had a cook and a few maids and a butler… or, we did when I was about your age."

"Did you have friends?"

"No," she says almost too quickly. "My mother wasn't very social."

"Oh, that… must have been really lonely… being in a big house like that, in the middle of nowhere…"

Regina nods, and continues to chop the bacon. "It was… but I did have this one friend." At that, Henry brightens and she feels her own smile pulling up at the corners of her mouth. "He was stable boy on my parents' estate. His name was Daniel."

She watches as Henry's eyes widen. "That's my middle name!"

"It is…"

"And you gave me my middle name…" She nods and her heart clenches at the way he smiles at her. "Am I named after him?"

"You are…."

"So, I'm named after your dad and… your friend."

"Yes…" For a moment, her voice trails off and she watches the way Henry stares expectantly at her, as though waiting for the story she'll inevitable tell–and for the first time, when talking about her past, she doesn't feel nervous or unsettled, she's not worried about what he'll think or say, and she's surprised at how comforting it feels to share her memories of Daniel. "I named you Henry after my dad because… despite all of his flaws, he was a good man with a good heart who always believed that… no matter how tough a situation was, if you looked close enough, you could find some good in it."

"That's… a really nice thought," Henry says as he considers it. "I like that."

"I did, too…" she murmurs, leaving out how she slowly but surely turned away from optimism and hope, losing it little by little until all that was left for her was darkness. "And… I wanted you to grow up to be the same sort of man… someone who believed in the good in people."

A grin tugs onto Henry's lips. "What about Daniel? What was he like?"

"He was… my best friend. He was kind and thoughtful, he was fun… he… he made me happy."

Henry giggles. "Did you… like like him?"

Regina's eyes widen a little. "I… did… like like him," she admits, a soft laugh rising into her voice. "And he… like liked me." She pauses for a moment, remembering how happy Daniel made her feel, how when she was with him she didn't feel as alone or hopeless–and how she'd felt that exact same feeling the first time she'd held Henry. "We were friends for a long time first, though."

She takes a breath as she oven timer sounds, and Henry's attention turns to the biscuits. Reaching for an oven mit, she pulls them out of the oven and she grins as Henry breathes them in. Quickly, she drops them into a little basket and hands them to Henry before turning back to the counter and pouring the dressing into a little jar. She hands it to Henry then drops the tomatoes and bacon into the salad, and she follows him into dining room with thoughts of Daniel and the days they spent together swirling through her head.

Taking a deep breath, Regina lifts the storybook off the shelf in her office. Her fingers trace the gold leaf lettering and her eyes close as she hears the shower turning off, and she braces herself.

She gives Henry a few minutes to settle into his room before walking down the hall and poking in her head, and she forces a smile onto her lips as he looks up at her expectantly, waiting for her with Harry Potter in his lap. Tucking the book underneath her arm, she steps into the room, watching as he tries to get a look at the cover. "So, I was thinking," she begins, as she sits down on the edge of the bed, "That I could… show you that book I told you about."

"The one about the place you grew up?"

She nods. "There's… a story about me and Daniel, and a picnic…" Her stomach flops as Henry's eyes widen and he sets Harry Potter aside. "We don't have to if…"

"No," he cuts in. "I want to hear the story."

"You sure?" Henry nods and she takes a breath, pulling open the heavy book to a marked page. She watches as he leans in a little to look at the hand-written calligraphy, and she shifts herself up beside him. "So, when Daniel and I were kids–teenagers, actually–we used to like to go riding in along the woods of my family's estate and we'd be gone for hours and hours and hours…"

"So you had a picnic?"

"After we got smart and realized we needed to bring food with us, yes," she says softly, shaking her head at the memory. "But, of course, that was much more complicated than it sounds."

"Why?"

"Well, my mother didn't like the idea of me being friends with him…"

"She doesn't sound like a very nice person," Henry says, turning his eyes up to meet hers. "Sorry, if that was rude…"

"It's not rude," she's quick to say. "She wasn't a nice person, and she knew it."

Henry nods as she opens the book–and for a moment, he seems lost in his head, and wonders what he's thinking about. Taking a breath, she stares down at the picture of herself wearing a periwinkle dress–her favorite only because her mother hate it–with her feet curled beneath her. Daniel was lying stretched out on stomach and a plate a bread and a jar of jam sat between them. Rocinante was grazing just beyond them, and everything about the image was so innocent and quaint.

"That's you," Henry murmurs as he leans in for a better look. "That drawing is so… good." He looks up at her and her stomach clenches. "It looks just like you!"

"Well… a younger me," she says, earning a slight chuckle from Henry.

"Is this a true story?"

"It is…"

"That's so cool," Henry says as he rests his head on his shoulder. "Why did… whoever wrote this…um… write them?" He laughs a little at his question as he cuddles closer. "I just mean… why did he pick these stories?"

"I… don't know, actually," she confess. "I don't even know where this book came from."

"Maybe your mom had it…"

"Maybe," she murmurs softly, deciding that was as good a reason as any other, as she begins the story…

The story started with her skipping a dance lesson–something she tells him she did frequently as a girl. Her mother banished her to her room, locking her in and refusing her dinner–and she can't help but notice the way Henry squirms beside her as she reads it and she wonders if she's struck a cord. She offers to stop, but he urges her on, insisting he wants to hear the whole story, and she takes a breath, pushing away her own discomfort as she continues. Henry giggles as reads the part about her knotting bedsheets together together to sneak out of the high window–and she groans at the part where she fell at the final few feet before reading the ground. She reads about how she'd run to the stables as fast as she could, her heart racing as she feared catching the eye of a servant and she read about the sheer jubilation she felt when she reached the stables, presumably unnoticed.

She skipped the line about how Daniel had kissed her–and Henry, of course, pointed that out with a giggle. With a sigh, she continues on, reading about the picnic lunch Daniel packed for them and how he'd helped her onto Rocinante–and then just as she read a bit about them riding out of the stable together, Henry gasped.

"Who is that?"

"What?" She asks, blinking down at the page. "Who is… who?"

"Him," Henry says, pointing to a man in the background pruning roses. "Who is that?"

"I…" She narrows her eyes and leans in. "I think that was my family's gardener."

"He looks familiar," Henry murmurs as he leans in a little closer. "That's Mr. Zinnia."

Regina blinks. "You… know Mr. Zinnia."

"Yeah, the florist!" Henry says with a nod. "Robin took me and Roland there last week when you were at the Town Hall meeting to…" He stops and bites down on his lip. "To look at stuff."

Regina's brow arches. "To look at stuff." Henry nods and looks away from her, still chewing on his lip. "Seems like an odd place for three men…"

"I told him I wouldn't tell you."

Her eyes narrow and a smile pulls onto her lips. "Tell me what?"

"About the surprise."

"There's a surprise," she says very matter of factly as she looks down at Henry. "A surprise you're not allowed to tell me about."

"Exactly."

"So, you won't tell me."

Henry shakes his head. "But I can tell you that Mr. Zinnia didn't have whatever Robin was looking for, so he said he'd have to go to plan B." Henry blinks. "But he didn't tell us what that meant."

"Oh…"

"But he's planning something," Henry says, giggling softly as he looks back down at the page. "It's so funny that Mr. Zinnia is in the book," he says placing his finger on the page. "He looks exactly the same."

Regina blinks, suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by the realization that Henry had identified a Storybrooke resident in the book, and was one step closer to understanding the world she'd brought him into, that if he continued looking through the book, he'd find other people he'd seen around town, some that he knew, and eventually, he'd see who she'd become.

A yawn escapes him and she closes the book, ignoring the knot that was forming in her stomach as she leaned into kiss him goodnight, and hoping this wasn't all a mistake.

She wakes up with a start, her stomach churning and her heart racing. Taking a breath, she swallows hard and listens–listening for a sound she's not entirely sure she'll hear again, a sound she's not entirely sure wasn't a figment of her imagination.

And just as she was nearly convinced it was all a part of a dream or maybe a distant memory that had crept out into her subconscious, she heard it again.

Henry.

Tossing back the covers, she gets out of bed, padding quickly down the hallway to Henry's room. She opens the door and he gasps a little, looking up at her with wide and terrified eyes–and her heartbreaks.

"Henry," she whispers as she takes a step into the room, and she watches as his hands clutch the blanket, gripping tightly to the fabric. She looks from his hands to his face, and for a brief moment, it seems like he's afraid of her–and then, he softens, but only a bit. "Henry, what's the matter?"

"N-nothing," he says, watching as she steps closer.

"It's not nothing," she says gently as she takes a tentative step in, her heart beating wildly in her chest. "You're crying."

"I… I just… I had a bad dream."

His breath catches as he hiccups and she takes another step in, watching the way eyes her, almost skeptically, as she comes closer. Slowly she sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for the lamp, flicking on a brighter light. "It was just a dream, Henry," she murmurs as she looks into his eyes. "Just a dream, even if it was bad one."

He nods and his lips part, as though he were about to say something, but no words come.

"Can I… hold you?" Henry nods as she shifts closer and as her arms wrap around him, she can feel him relaxing and she lets out a sigh of relief. She holds him for as long as he'll allow, and after a few minutes, he pulls back and offers her a sheepish grin. "Why don't we go downstairs for a little bit and have some milk?"

Henry nods as stands, offering him her hand and grinning as his fingers fold around hers. He lets her lead him down the stairs and he climbs up onto a stool at the counter, watching as she warms the honeyed milk. He doesn't say anything, he just watches and every now and then, she offers him a little smile that makes him grin. She pour two cups of milk and sits beside him, but each and every time she asks if he wants to talk about the nightmare, he shakes his head.

She doesn't push it, but each time he refuses to open up, the knot in her stomach tightens and she wonders if his silence isn't an attempt to shield her.

"Do you want to sleep in my room?" She asks gently as he takes the sip of his milk.

"No," he murmurs. "I should be okay in my room."

"You sure?"

Henry nods, then bites down on his lip. "Can you lay with me until I fall asleep again?"

A soft grin tugs onto her lips and she leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Of course."

Sliding down from her stool, she helps Henry off of his, and together, they walk back upstairs. She tucks him in, then slides into bed beside him, resting her head atop his as she holds him. It takes only a few minutes for him to fall asleep; and for awhile, she just lays there and listens to him breathe, and she can't help but think about that terrified look in his eyes when she first entered the room.

Finally, after she's sure that he's asleep, she gently gets out of the bed and returns to her own room. She lays there in the dark for a few minutes, her head spinning as the knot in her stomach once again tightens and she wonders if showing Henry the storybook was a bad idea, and she wonders if it's not too late to take Robin up on his offer and start a new life somewhere else, somewhere that her past couldn't follow her.

Rolling onto her side, she reaches for her phone. She types out a quick text asking Robin if he can meet for breakfast, and before she can even return the phone to it's place on her nightstand, the screen illuminates and rumbles with a soft buzz. A lopsided grin tugs onto her lips as she sees Robin's name and it buzzes once more before she accepts the call.

"What's the matter?" He asks almost immediately.

"Oh, nothing," she murmurs as she pulls herself up into a sitting position.

"Nothing's wrong, but it's two in the morning and you're texting me about breakfast," he says in a skeptical voice. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

"Henry had a nightmare," she says with a soft sigh. "And… I just… I'm a little shaken."

"What was it about?"

"That's just it… he wouldn't say." Her breath catches in her chest and her eyes press shut. "He… he seemed like he was… afraid of me."

"That's ridiculous. He adores you."

"It didn't last long…"

"Regina, he's not afraid of you."

"Maybe not consciously…"

"Regina…"

"I showed him the book," she interjects, her voice rising over his. "I showed him a story about me and Daniel, and he noticed someone who looked familiar and…"

"Regina," Robin cuts in. "Henry is not afraid of you."

"What if he… somehow knows."

"That you're…"

"…the Evil Queen."

"First of all, there's no way he knows unless you told him. Even if the curse suddenly broke, he wouldn't know it. It's not like he'd get a rush of memories of you as… some villain." He sighs and she nods, knowing that he's right, but still unable to shake the feeling that something had changed. "And even if he did know, that's not who you are to him."

"I know, it's just… you didn't see it. You didn't see the way he looked at me."

"Maybe he was still half asleep, maybe he thought you were someone else…"

"Maybe…"

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she lies. "That's… not necessary." Taking a breath, she lays back. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine…"

"So, tomorrow… breakfast?"

"Of course."

"Go back to sleep…"

"Regina…"

"Robin, I'm fine. I'm just… over tired and over thinking things and…" Her voice trails off. "Thank you for calling."

"My offer still stands."

"I know, and I love you for it," she says in a sincere voice. "Good night…"

"Goodnight."

Dropping the phone down onto the bed, she closes her eyes and takes a breath, telling herself again and again that Robin is probably right, telling herself that she's overly tired and reading too far into things, telling herself she didn't see what she actually saw–and somewhere in the loop of reassuring half-truths, she finally dozes off.

Sleep doesn't hast for very long and before the sun is even up, she finds herself wandering down to the kitchen in search of coffee. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can hear rustling in the kitchen, and her immediate thought is Henry. Picking up her pace, she turns into the kitchen and her brow immediately furrows at the sight of Robin, standing at the counter, unpacking a paper bag.

"Did I wake you?" He asks, turning to her with wide eyes.

"Um, no… I… just woke up on my own…" she murmurs, stepping into the kitchen. "I… why are you here?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh. Sorry about that. I shouldn't have text…"

"Don't apologize," he says, cutting in. "I'm glad you texted me and I'm glad I called and got to talk to you…" He sighs, "I just wish I'd come over sooner rather than later."

"You didn't have to…"

"I know…"

"I told you, I'm fine…"

Robin nods. "You were lying." Regina feels her cheeks flush as her eyes fall away from his, and she shakes her head. "And I needed to see for myself that you were okay."

"I'm… okay," she says as she comes to lean against the counter. "And… I'm glad that you're here."

"Me too."

"But you shouldn't be here. You should be with your son."

"Roland is fine," Robin says easily. "John is watching him with means he'll either get left over pizza or nachos for breakfast, which means he'll be a happy boy in a few hours."

A grin pulls onto her lips. "Still, you shouldn't have to get up at the crack of dawn and leave your child because your girlfriend is having a breakdown over…"

"Woah, woah, woah," he cuts, taking a step toward her. "You and Henry are my family, too. I love you and love your son, and right now, this is where I need to be." Reaching for her hand, he gives it a tight squeeze. "You don't have to suffer through everything alone, Regina. You can… fall back on me, if you need to. You're not bothering me or taking me away from something more important…" His voice trails off as his thumb rubs against the back of her wrist. "If you need me, I'll be here… and right now, I think you need me."

Nodding, a grin tugs onto her lips. Taking a step in, she wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. His arms fold around her and he pulls her closer and for just a moment, she lets herself relax and be comforted.

"Do you want to go back upstairs," he asks in a hushed whisper. "Maybe try to get a little sleep…"

"Believe it or not, I actually got some sleep."

His brow arches, "More than two hours?"

"No…"

"Then I'm afraid it doesn't count," he says, taking a step back and letting his hands fall down her arms. "So, how about this… how about you have a little something to eat and…"

Her brow creases as she looks past him, suddenly remembering the brown paper bag stamped with Granny's logo that he'd been rummaging through when she'd come downstairs and found him. "Is that… fresh?"

"It is."

"But… Granny's isn't open yet," she murmurs as she looks back at him, her eyes suddenly widen. "Robin, you didn't…"

He blinks. "Her hours are, on occasion, inconvenient."

"You broke into Granny's to steal a danish and some tea?"

"It's an apple fritter and some tea, actually," he says simply as if the details are what matters. "And I left the proper amount plus a tip." He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. "If she doesn't want people coming in and helping themselves as needed, she shouldn't leave her key in such an obvious place."

"And where was this obvious place?"

"In a loose brick at the back of the inn."

Regina's eyes roll. "How much a of tip did you leave?"

"Almost double the price of the tea and fritter." He grins. "You act like this is the first time…"

With a sigh, she shakes her head. "What kind of tea is it."

"Lavender and chamomile."

"So, bathwater…"

"Bathwater that will help you get some rest." Smiling gently, he reaches behind him, grabbing the tea and paper covered fritter. "I picked out the one with the most apple chunks."

"That was… very thoughtful," she says as she takes the fritter, intentionally ignoring the tea. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he says, watching as she tears off a piece of the fritter and bites into it. "And I mean that. Anytime." Pulling herself up onto one of the stools, she tears off another piece of the fritter, rolling her eyes as Robin pushes the tea toward her. "So, tell me… what happened exactly."

"I… was talking to him while we were making dinner and we started talking about Daniel and… what it was like for me growing up and… I decided to show him the book." Robin's brow arches. "I started with an easy story… one where I snuck out of my bedroom and…"

"…went on a picnic with Daniel," Robin finishes with a nod. "That's a sweet one."

"Yeah, it's a sweet memory…"

"So, you showed him the book…"

"And immediately, he noticed how real the illustrations looked and… then all of the sudden, he noticed someone." Her eyes shift up as she tears off another piece of the fritter. "My family's gardener… who… I didn't even realize was a florist here in Storybrooke." She shakes her head. "But Henry noticed…"

"Mr. Zinnia."

"Yeah…"

"He's… a nice guy," Robin says with a shrug. "I don't think you have to worry about…"

"I'm not worried about the florist," Regina says in flat voice. "It's just… if he noticed him, who else will he notice?"

"Well… isn't that kind of… the point of showing him the book?"

"Yeah," Regina says with a sigh. "I just…" Her voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders, looking up at him almost helplessly. "I don't know."

"You're conflicted," Robin supplies. "This isn't easy…"

"No, it's not," she replies, shaking her head as she finally reaches for the tea. "As much as I want the curse to break–as much as I need it to break for Henry's sake–I'm terrified."

"Henry loves you, Regina. It might be… shocking and tough to process, but at the end of the day, you're still the woman who saved him, the woman who took him in and loved him. You're still his mom."

"What if… he can't trust me." She takes a breath and catches in her throat as warm tears well in her eyes. "Robin, what if… he looks at everything I've done and can't…"

"That won't happen."

"You don't know that," she murmurs as she takes a long sip of the tea.

Robin sighs, watching as she eats the last of the fritter. "Come on, let's go back upstairs…"

"I won't sleep."

"But at least you'll be resting." He grins as she nods in concession. "Take the tea."

Letting out a breath, she reaches for the tea and slides of the stool. Robin's arm forms around her waist as she start toward the stairs–and then, an envelope on the counter catches her eye. "What's that?" She asks, suddenly stopping as she looks to Robin. "That… wasn't there when I went to bed."

"Oh, it was stuck in the side of your mailbox," Robin says easily. "You must have missed it."

"It was empty. I looked," she murmurs, taking a step away from him and toward the counter. "I would have noticed." Setting down the tea, she picks it up and whens he opens the flap, her stomach drops. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks to Robin with wide eyes. "This is… just like the last one I got… the one about my mother being disappointed."

Robin's brows arch. "What does it say?"

Swallowing hard, she pulls the card from the envelope with trembling hands. "It says…" Her voice trails off and her eyes narrow, not quite understanding, she holds it out for him to read.

For a moment, he just stares at it, then slowly, he takes it from her. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she nervously watches as he reads…

Sorry we missed you, but worry not, we'll be back to claim what's ours.

His eyes scan the note a second time before he finally looks back to her. "I don't… understand."

"I…" Her stomach drops, and can't push out the rest of her words. Instead, all she can think of are those damn letters–those taunting letters she'd assumed would be untraceable, those letters that she'd sent in impulsive moments of anger. Again and again, she tells herself it's impossible–it can't be them–but it's the only thing that makes sense to her. A feeling of dread washes over her at realization of what this could mean, and she can't help but feel, as always, she's brought it on herself.