Grace arrived at the exact moment that Beth took her last bite—as if Beth needed another reason not to trust her, the woman was the epitome of punctual.

Beth had kissed her dad goodbye, had nearly kissed Emma, and stomped out of the sheriff's station like she was being escorted to her doom. And who was to say that wasn't the case? Exactly how long had her dad known this Grace person before he gave her free reign over his daughter's life?

She resented the implication that she was anything less than self-sufficient. So she couldn't reach the top shelf in the fridge, or come face-to-face with a spider without screaming from the depths of her soul. And sometimes when she had a nightmare she couldn't walk to the bathroom by herself. She really didn't think it was fair to hold these things against her when her dad had no memory of them. For all Hook knew, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She'd found him, hadn't she? And Henry. Grandma Snow was still unaccounted for, and Regina, and Neal, and—

The headcount wasn't important. It'd only been three days. In any case, it was a safe assumption that she was already leaps and bounds beyond what Henry had accomplished in the same timeframe—not that she was keeping score. But when this whole thing was over, they'd definitely have to compare notes, or battle scars, or whatever it was that people compared over pints at the pub.

Lunch with her parents had been just what she needed to restore her hope—not that she'd been discouraged. Okay, maybe a little. But in her defense, she couldn't even tell her dad who her real mom was—wasn't that the sort of thing adults kept secret from each other on soap operas? Not that she watched soap operas. Much. ("Daddy, I have no idea how those got on the DVR." His arched brow rendered any further argument futile.).

She'd chosen to give confidence a second change—they were going to break the curse and be a family again. And nothing would convince her otherwise. It was blue skies and sunshine from here on out.

Except for the rain, of course, which started out as a drizzle but was having every appearance of turning into a monsoon before sundown.

Grace was all apologies for the inclement weather and promises that she'd think of something they could do that would be better than riding lessons.

"I don't see why we have to cancel." Said Beth.

"They're probably closed, sweetie."

"We could check…" Beth adopted her most persuasive puppy dog expression, complete with full pout.

Grace looked out at the horizon and said, "I guess a little rain never hurt anyone."

—

"We're closed." The woman behind the counter seemed bored. ("Downright stroppy," her dad might've said.) "You and your daughter can come back when the storm clears."

"She's not my mom." Said Beth, with a tad more disgust than she intended.

The woman turned her unhelpful gaze on Beth. "We're still closed."

"That's okay." Said Grace. "Thank you for your time."

Behind the clerk's counter were two doors—one, as evidenced by the window depicting a dreary scene, led outside. It was through this door that a man and woman entered, holding a coat over their heads. They were laughing despite being sopping wet from head to toe. And if Beth looked closely—

"Regina!"

She set aside the coat that'd failed in its duty. "Do we know each other, dear?" Her hair was longer than Beth had ever seen it, and done up in a braid. Her face free of dark makeup, she looked younger—and maybe she was. She dressed like a jockey from the races on TV that Grandpa David secretly bet on ("Remember, kiddo, this stays between us. Not a word to Grandma.").

"We, um…" Beth's words trailed off when she looked to the man who'd walked in with Regina. As fit and handsome as ever, if a bit scruffier, and short one lion tattoo on his forearm.

Uncle Robin excused himself from their conversation, but not before winking at Regina, who—

Wait a minute. Was Regina…blushing? Not only blushing, but grinning like an idiot.

Beth was positive she'd now seen everything.

"Can I…talk to you?" Beth's question to Regina earned her curious glances from Grace and the clerk.

Regina seemed uncertain, her eyes darting in the direction of her husband—gods, did she even know they were married?

What sort of Regina was this, anyway? The one who'd cast the Dark Curse?

No, there was too much kindness in her eyes.

"Is this about lessons?" She asked.

"Yes." Beth lied. "Yes, it is."

"Oh. Okay. Come on back."

Regina opened a portion of the counter—like a hobbit door—and ushered Beth through, to a hallway lined with offices on either side.

Beth waited until Grace was well out of range before tugging on Regina's sleeve. "You gotta help me. That woman is trying to steal me."

"What?"

"She's my dad's ex-girlfriend and she wants to get, I don't know, revenge or something because…he…fell in love with…someone else."

She didn't look convinced and Beth didn't blame her. It'd been a spur of the moment story. Maybe with proper time to plan, she could've come up with something better.

"Okay, so she's not trying to steal me—but she may as well be. She's going to take me all over town while my dad's at work so she can distract me with entertainment. And all I want is to find my brother so he can remember who he is, and—"

Regina was smiling—and not the sort that said she thought Beth was about fifty cards short of a full deck, which would've been understandable. "You remind me of someone. Who are your parents?"

This again.

Beth swore that wasn't as common a question before everyone forgot who they were. Now it seemed all anyone could ask.

"It's a long story. So can you help me ditch the sitter, or what?"

—

She didn't think she'd been this nervous in all her life. So she only had seven years to speak of where her dad had over three hundred, but still.

It'd been a whole thirty seconds since she'd knocked. What was the suitable amount of time to wait before trying again? If he wasn't home, she didn't know what she'd do—what did cursed Henry do in his spare time? Besides dating evil sorceresses bent on destroying his entire family.

What if the witch answered?

The door opened and she held her breath, exhaling when she saw her brother standing on the other side.

"Beth." He looked over his shoulder before stepping outside and latching the door behind him. "This is highly inappropriate."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I need your help."

"With this…curse you claim has got hold of everyone?"

Beth adjusted her footing, summoning her courage. "Okay, so sometimes I make up stories to get attention—my dad's at his wit's end with me. Whatever that means. I'm sorry I dragged you into it, I really am."

Beth could tell he'd forgiven her even before he said, "What's the favor?"

She held out the story book she'd picked up from Granny's on the way over, the one she'd checked out from the library the previous day. The same one her dad read to her when she longed to know more about her family's origins. "Hold this."

He looked it over, reading the cover under his breath. "Fairytales?"

Beth watched him go back and forth in his mind about the potentially detrimental effects this particular help could have. Finally, just as Beth was sure she'd go mad from waiting, he held out his hands.

She couldn't quite explain what happened when the book made contact with his skin, except that it looked like her brother had received an electrical shock. His eyes glossed over like he was locked in a trance. When they refocused, he looked down at the story book and then at Beth, visibly shaken.

"Em?"

—

"Killian thinks he's Hook again?"

"Remember all those times I wished I could see him in Pirate Mode? I take it back."

"It's definitely a stark contrast." Henry moved his mug around in circles, searching the perimeter of their booth for prying eyes. "And Mom?"

"She doesn't remember any of us."

"So you found her."

Beth nodded. "On the Jolly Roger, just like she said."

The ship had been harder to find than they'd assumed—and they hadn't exactly thought it would be easy. The witch had used a cloaking spell that her dad said was "entirely too reminiscent of Cora," for his taste. It was left to Beth to try and sense her mom's magic, which was difficult under normal circumstances, in places with such trace amounts of magic as Storybrooke—but the Enchanted Forest?

Her dad and Grandpa David had taken turns carrying her once she'd zeroed in on a point she thought might be Emma. It was brighter than the rest, radiant and warm. Beth had never exerted that much energy in her life—not when contacting Emma with the mirror, or making portals, or reducing horrible, wretched witches to dust. By the time they found the Jolly Roger, she could barely stand on her own—but she would've danced if Emma asked. Just the sight of her—the real her—had the lot of them laughing and crying at the same time.

They'd agreed to wait an extra day before returning home, so that Beth could regain her strength. But if she'd known what awaited them on the other side of the portal, she might never have left.

Terribly selfish, she knew, with Henry and the others under the witch's curse. But what she wouldn't give for more untainted time with her parents. That probably made her a horrible person, which was why she wasn't about to say such things out loud.

"And she was okay?"

"We all were—Henry, I don't know what happened. I opened the portal and we all went through, but…something went wrong."

"I'll say." Henry raked his hand through his hair.

"What I can't figure is why the witch has done all this."

Henry scoffed. "She waited for you to be in the Enchanted Forest—she lured you to Emma, all so she could, what? Rewrite the Dark Curse?"

"Ugh, and you kissed her."

Henry shot her a look that said, "Could we not?"

"Right. Sorry."

"So what's the plan?"

"We're halfway there." Beth sat up straighter, unable to contain her excitement at having come so far. The book worked on Henry—no reason it shouldn't work on others. "We just have to go see Mom."

Henry smiled. "You're much too clever for your own good, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

"And you've got Killian on board with all this? As Hook?"

"I…may have…bent the truth a little. But he's agreed to help."

"That seems a little out of character." Henry tried to recover at what must've been a wounded expression on Beth's part. "For a Hook with no memories of Emma, that is. I don't mean to upset you, Em, but he wasn't the most selfless person before he met Mom."

"So you think he's lying?"

"I think it's wise to be cautious."

Beth looked down, inching her own mug across the table. "You don't think he'd…hurt anyone."

"Honestly, Em…I don't know. I wish I could say for sure that he wouldn't, but if what you say is true, he isn't your dad right now."

"So Operation Second Breakfast failed before it began."

Henry laughed. "I'd say we're well past Elevensies by now."

At least Frodo and Sam knew who they were up against. They were reminded at every turn that the ring was no trinket—might want to quit while it only had a taste. Beth didn't know who the witch was or what she wanted or why she'd hit UNDO on all the development Storybrooke had made since its inception.

But perhaps there was a way to find out.

"I think I have an idea."

She took Henry's hand and dragged him out of the diner before he had time to pay their tab.