A/N: Hello everyone! Firstly, so sorry for missing last week, and for the unusual posting day now. Things have been hectic as I've been trying to navigate and cope with all of the closures and changes happening with the Coronavirus.

Secondly, I have a few chapters left to publish, and, in an effort to help out, I'm going to try to publish the remaining chapters once a day so that if you're a fan of this, you have something to keep you company over the next week.

Fianlly, I'd like to give a special shoutout to TrinityEdge20 for all of their kind reviews! I am so appreciative!

That being said, I am so incredibly sorry for this chapter. Enjoy!

Willa and Dell's jaws dropped as the doors to the elevator they were standing in opened up. Sitting in front of them was an entire apartment, fully furnished and decorated like someone had just been living there yesterday.

"Whoa!" Dell exclaimed, practically leaping inside. "This is incredible!"

He immediately rushed to a nearby table and started looking at what was on top.

Willa, meanwhile, could hardly think as she slowly stepped into the room. She'd never heard of this before. How could it be possible that this place had always been laying here, in the highest peaks of Cinderella Castle? She'd read everything there was to read about Disney secrets, and she was sure this wasn't one of them. She was in awe; it was incredible.

"Willa you've gotta see this!" Dell exclaimed, and she was snapped out of her trance.

Dell was beaming, and pointing at a row of books. Willa hurried over and bent down to see them, her worries momentarily forgotten. When she saw what he'd been pointing out, her heart skipped a beat.

The spines of the books were faded and dusty, the pages clearly yellowed, but she could still make out the titles clear as day: Alice in Wonderland, Grimm's Fairy Tales, The Jungle Book…

Willa had never felt so enchanted. She reached out her hand and moved her fingers across the row so that they just barely brushed the spine. She felt tears start to come to her eyes. There were no clues to tell it to her, but it was like something deep down knew what she was seeing.

"Do you think these are the original copies that he referenced when he was making the movies?" she asked, completely focused on the sight in front of them.

"I don't know," Dell said. "Maybe."

She could hear that his thoughts were aligned with hers. Caught up in her excitement, she turned her head to meet his eyes, and they smiled at each other. Just then, she remembered what she'd told herself before, and stepped back.

"There's some boxes over there," she said quietly, motioning to the other end of the room. "You stay here and I'll go check them out."

They were silent again, acknowledging the plans with only a nod, and Willa walked away, wandering slowly as she looked around. She ran her hands along the top of the couch, picking up dust as she went. This place was both everything and nothing like she'd pictured when reading the books. Truthfully, she'd never really conjured up a full image of it, but as she looked around, pangs of familiarity sprung up, harder and harder to ignore. That notion made her feel nauseous.

While she was lost in thought, Dell had found himself opening a drawer on the side table where the books were. In doing so, he'd found a pile of pictures, and as he sifted through them, his excitement only grew: there were Polaroids of Walt Disney with his kids, signed documents about rides at Disneyland, old park tickets…

"Willa, come over here!" he called. "This is incredible!"

But she didn't hear him. No, she was stuck staring into space, still standing by the edge of the couch, because tiny fragments and shadows of what felt like memories were in her mind. She saw a flash of herself standing in this spot, with four other people around her, and an old man with a friendly smile in front of her. And there was a vague feeling of standing here, but not here, no: a place just like this, but somewhere else. And she was looking at a couch just like this one, but not this one, another one, and there was someone napping on it and she didn't know who it was but she knew she was excited to see him. And someone had their arm wrapped around her and she was leaning her head on their shoulder and it made her feel at home.

Dell, having the time of his life, almost having forgotten that he was supposed to be looking for clues, continued to sift through the secret drawer of memorabilia. Eventually, he happened upon a thin little book, dark blue and covered in dust just like all the ones on the table. Intrigued, he blew off the dust to read the title. Once he did though, all of his excitement turned into anxiety, and his heart skipped a beat as a lump formed in his throat. There, in gold lettering, read an all too familiar title: The Stonecutter's Quill.

Willa knew that none of the memories were real; she was sure they weren't. She knew these things didn't happen to her, was certain of it even, but here they were: little, tiny pieces of blurry images; feelings of closeness and certainty that she wasn't sure how to identify deep in her gut; memories that felt real and unreal all at the same time…almost like they were from another life.

Dell's mind wasn't on clues or missions or Evil Queens anymore, even with the most damning evidence right in his hand. His mind was somewhere else entirely, because what he'd found seemed to mean something else. Looking at it, something was stirring in him, stronger than it ever had before, making him afraid of it for the first time. This meant something: somehow he knew, and reality was crashing down on him like a boulder.

Hands shaking, he cracked open the book's cover. Something flashed past his eyes in a blur, and he looked down to see a Polaroid picture now upside-down on the ground. It must've fallen from the book. His limbs felt like stone, but somehow he managed still to bend down and pick it up. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned it around, and when he did, his mouth went completely dry, and his heart started to beat so fast that he thought he might go into cardiac arrest.

"Willa," he called again, his voice serious now. "I really think you need to see this."

He finally managed to catch her attention, and she turned her head to see him practically ashen and visibly trembling. She'd never seen him like that, especially not since they'd started the business with Casey. Her feet felt glued to the floor, but at the same time they seemed to walk towards him against her control.

Finally, she reached the spot where he was standing, and he passed the picture over to her, pointing at a specific spot.

It was plain as day: opening day at Disneyland, with Walt and his brother and Lillian and his closest Imagineers cheering and smiling in front of Cinderella castle. But there were other people there too, people who shouldn't have been there: them. There, standing behind Walt and crew were the people she'd come to know over the past two weeks, smiling and throwing their hands up in victory. And there, right underneath Dell's finger, were the two of them. They were dressed in clothes from the 1950s…and they were holding hands.

Willa couldn't breathe. It didn't make sense, and yet, just like the things she'd seen by the couch, it seemed so strangely and distantly real. Her chest tightened and her face got hot and her eyes wet, because there were more fragments of memories now, but not piecing together, not slowing down. Now there were just more of them, moving even faster than they had before, coming inches away from connecting, but refusing to do it.

"Willa…" Dell started.

She looked up at him and nearly lost her footing. Now the person with his arm around her by the unknown couch was starting to come into clearer view: red hair and green eyes and tall and…it couldn't be true, but there it was, not explaining its presence: it was Dell.

He was right there in front of her, and she knew somehow that there was an answer in his eyes. If she looked at him long enough, and let herself get lost in him, everything would fall into place: she'd know where the memories came from. But looking into his eyes made the screaming get louder too, and it made her face get hotter, and her breathing get faster.

Say something her heart begged her. Let yourself say something and you'll finally know what to say.

Her mouth opened, and she choked out a few sounds, but at the last second she felt for the final time just what was in his gaze, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't take the chaos anymore. She shook her head and, panicking, bolted away from him and out onto the apartment's balcony.


Charlene sat on a bench at the front of Mainstreet with the worst kind of butterflies dancing in her stomach as she watched Terry pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Come sit down," she begged him again, just like she'd been doing for the last five minutes.

"No!" Terry shouted. "I just don't get it! I don't get why the hell I'm here working with crazy people while my Aunt could be dying for all I know."

"Terry she told you to come," Charlene reminded him, trying in vain to be comforting. "She's okay. If anything had gone wrong, the hospital has both of our cellphone numbers."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel any better," Terry snapped. He continued to pace and ran his hands across his scalp.

Charlene sighed and threw her head back. She didn't want to be frustrated with him. She knew he was going through feelings that she couldn't begin to imagine, and that he wasn't really angry at her, and that it would be horrible of her to be angry with him...but he was making the task increasingly harder, and there was only so far she could be pulled.

"Worrying isn't going to do you any good," she said.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" Terry exclaimed.

"Nothing!" she insisted, coming close to shouting. "I just mean that we're stuck here for now, and making yourself sick isn't going to make it any easier."

"So I'm just supposed to sit here all la-dee-da and pretend like my Aunt wasn't unconscious a few hours ago?!"

"No! All I'm saying is that you should come sit down and try to breathe a little instead of pacing back and forth and pulling all your hair out!"

Terry finally stopped, and stared at her for a second. He opened his mouth to speak, but eventually backed off and shook his head.

"What?" Charlene asked, feeling frustration pool in her chest.

"Nothing," he said, waving her off and continuing to pace.

"No," she said, more forcefully. "Tell me."

She was getting increasingly impatient.

Terry sighed, not even meeting her eye.

"You wouldn't understand," he mumbled.

Finally, Charlene shot up to standing.

"I thought we were done with this!" she exclaimed.

"With what?" Terry yelled.

"With you moping around and pretending like no one cares about you, or understands you, or could understand! I'm right here Terry! I've been here! What is it gonna take to get you to see that?!"

She was practically panting now, her chest tight as it rose up and down, and she felt her face get hot. She'd tried to contain her anger, but enough was enough.

Terry's hands were balled into fists, now forced to meet her gaze. He took a deep breath before speaking again, trying to stop himself from exploding.

"You don't understand," he muttered. "You haven't lived my life. I can't just open up to people like you want me to."

"But you've already opened up to me!" Charlene pleaded.

"And that means I have to tell you everything I'm feeling whenever you see fit?!"

"No! But I thought…" Charlene stopped herself as she felt a catch in her throat.

"Thought what?!" Terry insisted.

Tears built up in Charlene's eyes and she stayed silent, knowing that if she said a word she would start to cry. As she listened to nothing but the sound of the night, she felt her heart breaking, and she cursed the universe for the fact that he was able to break it.

She'd really let herself believe she'd found someone special with him. She'd let herself think that he trusted her, that she could trust him. She'd let herself think that for the first time, she'd finally found someone, friend or otherwise, who treated her like she was real, enough to argue with her and tell her stories and to let her be herself…whoever that was.

Now though, she was here watching herself be proven wrong. Now they were right back where they started, with him unable to see her as anything other than the cheerleader in high-school who'd hated him just by principle. Only thing was, she'd never hated him; not even close. She was never the person he'd cemented in his mind, but she'd never done anything to let him know it, and now he'd never see her as anything else.

"You act like you know me Charlene," Terry yelled, after it was clear Charlene wasn't going to speak. "Like we've always been best friends and I can tell you anything. Well, you don't, and we aren't. We pretty much just met two weeks ago."

Charlene still said nothing, but her mission to not cry was quickly failing as the tears started to escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

"You think you know who I am and what I've been through, but you don't!" he continued. "I grew up with nothing, with no-one, but my Aunt. She struggled every day, but did everything she could to make sure I didn't feel it, didn't know, and I, from a fairly young age, had to learn how to put on a mask and pretend, so that she didn't know that I did. I was her emotional support, and she was mine, and now, because life handed us some bad cards, she's probably gonna be gone!"

"God, you do not hold the market on adversity Terry!" Charlene screamed, finally breaking, sobbing as she spoke. "You don't wanna think I get it, but I do, and if you really listened you'd know that!"

She stopped for a moment to breathe, thinking about whether or not she should go on, but when he said nothing, she knew she had no choice. There was no getting off of this ride now.

"You grew up without your parents, and in poverty, and your Aunt got sick, and I wouldn't begin to try and compare my life to those things, or to understand, believe me I wouldn't, but you're acting like I've lived some picture perfect life!

"You grew up without your parents? I haven't even seen a picture of my Dad since I was five years old. He decided one day that my Mom and I weren't enough and that he wanted out, so he walked, and I've had to live on since then trying to reach out and getting nothing but radio silence, and my Mom won't even talk about him, won't even tell me stories. So, for as long as I can remember, I've been stuck with this constant, everyday notion that there's something wrong with me or that I did something wrong that I'll never know about or be able to identify, because my Dad doesn't want me.

"So don't try to act so high and mighty, like you're the only one who's ever struggled: okay? Because you're not, and, believe it or not, if you let me in, even just a little bit, you'd learn that you have someone here who can at least try to understand what your life was, more than anyone else ever could."

She stopped then as she realized how far she'd gone, still crying and shaking. The new world she'd found in the last two weeks was crumbling around her, and, in the moment, she was left with nothing to do but stand and watch it crumble.

Maybeck's face was solemn, reserved, but, whatever he was feeling, he couldn't bring himself to act on it. They just looked each other straightly, too shocked by the notion of heartbreak to do anything to stop it.

"Maybe I should just go," he said.

Charlene held back a wail as her stomach twisted in a knot.

"I can drive you home," she choked out, sniffing.

"No," Maybeck said coldly. "I'll take a bus."

He turned and walked away, and Charlene clutched her middle and fell to the floor.


Willa stood out on the castle balcony, staring out into the Magic Kingdom night sky. The cool night wind tickled her face, and out in the distance she could make out Charlene and Terry: barely distinguishable dots of color at the end of Main Street. As much as she wanted to clear her head, the thought kept nagging at her, like a pinprick in her brain hitting over and over.

What the hell just happened?

"You're denying it," a voice said.

Willa startled as the silence broke, and she looked to her right to see Dell standing next to her. She looked away from him and sighed.

"I want to be alone," she said.

"You know now that it's true and you're denying it."

Willa hesitated as she searched for the right thing to say, looking at him dumbfounded, wondering how he could seemingly read her mind. Eventually she shook her head, and looked back out into the night sky.

"You're crazy," she said.

"I'm not crazy!" Philby insisted. He sighed, frustrated that he couldn't get through to her, scared just as much as she was about what had happened inside.

"Willa," he said softly. "I know you felt it too, just now, when we were in there. We've met before; I know you can tell that we have."

"It can't be true Dell!" Willa exclaimed starting to cry.

"Why can't it?"

"Because I can't handle it being true! Not now!"

"What do you mean?" Dell asked.

Willa said nothing, just looked down and rubbed at her arm. Dell edged closer.

"What do you mean?" he asked, again, more gently this time.

Willa looked back at him and her eyes were filled with tears.

"I got into that study abroad program," she cried. "A spot opened up and they picked me off the waitlist."

"Willa!" Dell exclaimed, "That's great!"

"No it's not!"

"Why not?!"

"Because!" Willa yelled, the tears falling harder now as her face grew red. "What am I supposed to do with that if all these crazy stories are true? How am I supposed to leave this if those stories are true? I signed up for that program because…"

Willa hesitated and took a deep breath. She'd never told anyone this before, and the fact that it was so easy to tell Dell only made the chaos threaten to return, terrifying her even more. Something was happening here, and it was something she knew she could not allow. Swallowing a cry, she pressed her lips together and stopped talking.

"Isabella…" Dell said, reaching for her.

"Don't call me that!" Willa said, her voice cracking as she flinched away. "Why are you so insistent about this?"

"Because Willa," he said. "We know each other, outside of this past week, outside of AP History: I know you can feel it too."

"No we don't Dell," Willa cried.

"Why are you refusing to believe this?!"

"I told you!"

"Actually, you didn't tell me!" Dell snapped.

"Dell," Willa started, shaking her head. "I signed up for that program because I hated my life here. I did everything I did for the past two years, to change my stupid life: to get away from my parents, to start making my own choices, and I fell in love with it all and ….what if this is all true and my life didn't suck? What if I had nothing to escape from, huh? What if I grew up with the perfect life: with adventure and with everyone else down there and with you and…"

Willa stopped as she realized what she said. As much as she didn't want to, she couldn't help but look over at Dell again, and when she did they locked eyes. And then her breathing hastened, and her chest felt tight, because more hazy memories that she didn't recognize started to return, and now it was getting worse: seeing those eyes, looking into those eyes and smiling and feeling at home…inches away from death and thinking about those eyes to anchor her to reality. Quickly she turned away.

"See?" Dell said. "There it is again…you can feel it."

Once again, Willa said nothing, but Dell wouldn't give up.

"Why don't you wanna believe this Willa?" he said again.

"Because it's ridiculous!" Will insisted. "Listen to yourself Dell: we met because we're actually the Kingdom Keepers and we've been fighting Disney villains since we were in the 8th grade? It doesn't make sense! It can't be possible! It defies all logic and reason, which are the two things I have run my life by since I was thirteen years old, the only two things that got me through."

"But what if it can be possible Willa?" Dell said.

"Dell…" Willa started to shake her head.

"No, let me talk." Dell insisted, cutting her off. "What if it can be possible? What if that perfect life you talked about before was a reality? What would be wrong with that? I don't know if any of this is true Willa, but what if it is? What happens if we let ourselves believe it?"

"We could be wrong. And I could throw all I've achieved away for nothing: to believe in a fairytale. We have so much to lose."

"But what do we have to gain if we're right?"

Philby couldn't stop looking at her then, and feelings of pleading, of desperation, built up in his stomach until he could barely stand up straight from the butterflies. Never had he been more drawn to her, never had he wanted more to kiss her, and it wasn't for thinking she looked pretty in her Graduation dress, or for anything they'd done together in the past two weeks.

What he was feeling now was more than his high-school crush. Now he felt a sort of connection, one he couldn't quite place, but that he could tell was there: like they had a history, like they'd done things together, seen places together, been through milestones and tragedies and triumphs, like he really knew her, and she knew him. He felt like his hand, close to hers on the railing, had been that close, and closer, before. A memory of a word, a word that made his heart feel warm to say, hung at the edge of his lips, like he'd spoken it in the past.

Willa looked at him for a moment as if she might say something else, like she might finally agree with him. Just as he'd started to lean in, not even realizing he'd been doing it, Willa turned away from him, and brushed her hair behind her ear.

"I…I think I'm done," she stuttered quietly. "I can't do this."

"Willa.."

"Please Dell," she said softly, her voice breaking, and he knew that there was nothing else he could say.

Dell nodded with disappointment, but understanding. He turned on his heel and headed to make his way out of the castle with his hands in his pockets.

He stopped at the apartment door as he felt hot tears, so rare for him, building up in his eyes, but he willed them not to fall, willed himself to shove away the pain; he'd learned a long time ago how to make himself let go of what he thought might be.

This time though, he couldn't stop it, and the tears made their way down his cheeks until he tasted them hitting his lips. Why did he care so much about this? Why did he care so much about her? Why did leaving her like this make him feel worse than he could ever remember feeling? He took a deep breath as he climbed into the elevator and it descended down Escher's keep; there was nothing he could do about it: they'd just have to complete this mission without her.

Still not moving from where she stood, Willa cried as she heard the creak of his footsteps walking away, because she still sensed what she did before: if she gave into him, even for a second, she'd have all the answers in an instant.

She didn't want him to go; she didn't want to stop seeing him or any of the others; she wanted the answers, wanted this whole thing to be true. Her life had never been better than it had been since this craziness started, and the idea of having it forever, and having had it for years, was a dream that she didn't even realize she had. But she knew that she couldn't let herself believe it: it was nothing more than a fantasy, and letting yourself believe in fantasies only got you more hurt in the end.

A/N: See you tomorrow! Stay magical and stay strong!