I propped my elbow on the smooth, cool stone of the well: the same well where we had captured my mother, and where Emma was cursed. It wasn't my first choice for a meeting place, but I didn't want my mother in my home just yet, and this was a private conversation. The sun was climbing ever-so-slowly towards its peak in the sky, but morning dew still cling to the leaves that hovered over the clearing, slowly dropping to the ground and, occasionally, splashing on top of my head. I looked over the edge of the well and stared at my reflection in the water. Though the face that stared back at me was void of emotion, inside I was torn. Was this really a good idea? I had been so sure when I explained the plan to the Charmings, but now, as I was preparing to put my plan in action, my confidence was wavering. I started fidgeting with the vial in my hand nervously.

Suddenly, I felt a soft hand slide on top of mine, stilling my nervous motions. As Emma stepped into my periferal vision, I felt my anxiety lessen and my breathing slow. We turned to look at each other in unison. Staring into her beautiful green eyes, I saw all of the love, compassion, and understanding I'd come to love in the years I'd known her. Knowing that Emma was here, by my side, gave me the confidence I needed to do what I had to do. I turned back towards the well and took a deep breath.

"Mother?" I called out. "Mother, I know you can hear me. Come out here and face me. We need to talk."

"Really?" I heard a cross voice say from behind me. Emma and I whirled around in unison. There was my mother, glaring at us with her arms crossed in front of her. She looked so out of place in the middle of the field. Normally this was the one place in Storybrooke where she wasn't out of place, with her long extravagant dresses usually reserved for royalty in the Enchanted Forest. Today she had decided to sport a sensible black pantsuit: simple, but perfecty tailored to her body. Her long hair was down, falling around her shoulders in loose curls. My heart ached when I realized that she looked almost exacly like she did when she died in my arms in Gold's shop.

"Hello, Mother."

"Hello," she said in a curt tone. "Well, I'm here. What do you want?"

"I just need to talk to you," I insisted.

She scoffed. "Sure you do. That's why you brought her," she said, gesturing towards Emma. "So, what's your plan? Are you going to capture me? Or just kill me now, and make it permanent?" she spat.

I took a deep, exasperated breath, trying to calm myself down. "As logical as that would be, that's not why we're here."

"Well, then you really are stupider than you look. That's what I would have done."

I pressed my lips together in a hard line, my brow furowing in barely-contained frustration. "Well, I don't want to be you."

"Oh, I remember that well enough, dear," she sighed. "Alright, I'll play along. What is it you want to talk about?"

This was the part I'd been dreading the most. I still wasn't sure how I was going to word it to her. My palms began to sweat as I tried to formulate what to say. "Your past," I said.

"My past?" she scoffed. "What about my past?" she asked.

"The part of your past you can't remember."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't have time to explain-"

"Well, You'd better make time," she interupted.

I sighed. "We used one of your hairs to make a dreamcatcher, and it showed us your past. I saw your parents..." I paused. My mother's face looked absolutely striken. I had never seen her so surprised, or vulnerable. "I saw my grandmother, and my grandfather. I saw how happy you were...and then I saw it all fall apart." My voice cracked as I saw tears beginning to stream down her face. I had never seen my mother cry before. As quickly as they formed, my mother wiped them away, trying to maintain her strong exterior. But it was too late, I saw how the reminder of her past affected her.

She cleared her throat. "That's all well and good," she said, "but no matter how hard I've tried over the years, I can still vivdly remember that."

"Yes, well, that's not what I'm talking about," I said. There were things that the dreamcatcher couldn't show us: there's a whole part of your life that's missing!"

"Don't you think I'd notice if a part of my childhood just went missing?"

"Not with the right potion, you wouldn't."

Mother looked at me quizzically. "Why do you say 'potion?'"

"Because your father purchased a forgetting potion from Rumplestiltskin when you were just a young woman."

"He what?!"

"Gold told us. Obviously, there was something he desperately didn't want you to remember."

"Well, what was it?"

I took a deep breath, pulling a vial out of my pocket and holding it out in front of me. "I think you should see for yourself."

Mother eyed the vial warily. "What is that?"

"A memory potion," I answered.

"Well, those are a very tricky business, Regina. How do you know you got the right one?"

"Well, I have you to thank for that," I replied. "You just so happened to use the same potion on me that your father used on you all those years ago."

"Really?" she asked incredulously. But, behind her front, I could see that I'd shaken her resolve. "How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"

"It's not a trick, mother," I insisted. "Just drink it, and you'll see."

"Why should I? If my father wanted me to forget this thing so badly, maybe I'm better off."

"Perhaps, but if there's even the chance that there's something in your past that you cared about...or maybe someone, wouldn't you want to know?" She didn't answer. I was geting through to her. I held the vial out to her. The dark blue liquid gleamed in the warm, yellow sunlight.

Mother slowly reached out and gingerly took the vial in her hands. She examined it carefully, debating. Suddenly her face hardened in dertermination. She looked up at me. "Well, here goes nothing." Then she unstopped the vial, pressed it against her lips, and downed the contents in one gulp. She grimaced as she straightened her head.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then her eyes seemed to glaze over, not focusing on anything around her. It only lasted a couple of seconds before she came back to earth. She looked around, dazed, for a moment, before her eyes settled back on me.

"Mother?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

There was a moment of silence while she collected her thoughts. Then, suddenly, she gasped.

"Eleanor!"

"I don't know..." Mother said uncertainly.

"It's now or never, Mother," I insisted. "And I hate to say it, but you aren't getting any younger."

"Regina!"

"What? It's true!"

We were standing in front of the bakery, looking in through the window. Eleanor was there, rolling and shaping the dough in her artful way. It had taken a lot of convincing to get my mother this far. Now, standing in front of the bakery and seeing Eleanor for the first time in so many years, she was having second thoughts.

"But, Regina," she pleaded, "it's been so long..."

"I promise, she still remembers you," I assured her. "And, you might like to know that she never got married."

"Never?"

"Never. I think that, secretly, she's been waiting for you this whole time."

"You really think so?" she asked, leaning closer to the door.

"I do.

She took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's do this, then." She straightened her shoulders, her face set with determination, and walked in the door.

We were immediately greeded by the warm, sweet scent of the bread in the oven. The little bell above the door announced our presence. "I'll be with you in a moment!" Eleanor called out to us.

"Hello, Eleanor!" I said.

"Oh, Regina!" she replied. "I was hoping I'd see you again soon. I really-" Eleanor turned around and froze as soon as she saw us, dropping the pan in her hand. It hit the floor with a clang that seemed to echo in the small space. No one moved a muscle, no one said a word. There was nothing but silence for almost a minute.

Finally, Mother broke the silence. "Hello," she said quietly.

"Cora?" Eleanor asked in astoundment.

"Yes, it's me."

Eleanor walked around the counter until she was in front of us, studying Mother's face. "How can it be you?"

"I...I..." mother faltered, tripping over her words. "I was lost for...so long. A-and there was a potion, and my father, and..." She paused to take a breath and continued, more slowly and controlled this time. "My daughter showed me the part of myself I'd been missing for all these years, and I've only just now found my true self.

"Eleanor, I know it's been years and years, but I need to tell you something I never had the chance to before my father ruined everything." She took Eleanor's hand into her own and gripped it tightly. "I love you. I loved you then, and I still love you now: I was just too afraid to say it: afraid of my father, and afraid of myself. I couldn't admit it even to myself when I had the chance, and because of that I lost everything and became something I destest. And I did things...things I can never take back. But the things I regret most of all are the things I did to you, Eleanor. I'm so, so sorry." She let go of Eleanor's hand and looked away sadly. "If you can't forgive me, I understand. I just wanted you to know...how much I care for you. I'll leave you alone now."

She started to walk away slowly, her head lowered in shame and heartache. I looked between her retreating form and Eleanor's wide eyes. No, it couldn't end like this! Surely, after what I'd seen, there was more there, right? They couldn't just let each other go like that.

Suddenly, Eleanor chuckled quietly. "Well, you always had a flair for the dramatic, didn't you?" she remarked. "And where do you think you're going?"

Mother stopped in her tracks and turned around, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Wait, what?"

"I think we've spent far too long alone, wouldn't you agree?" Eleanor asked, putting a hand on her hip and smirking.

"But...but all of the horrible things I did to you..."

"Well, you'll just have to make it up to me, won't you?"

"Oh, Eleanor!" Mother exclaimed. She rushed over to where Eleanor stood and crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her and laughing with joy. Eleanor returned the embrace, swinging her around and laughing right along with her. Then she finally set her down and pulled back to look at her, gently placing a hand on her cheek.

"My Cora," she whispered, gazing into her eyes. My mother's smile widened, tears streaming out of her eyes.

I had never seen my mother so happy in all my life.