Regina chuckles softly as a grin tugs onto her lips as she stops herself in the door way of the living room, watching the way that Henry's sprawled across the couch, completely unaware of anything around him and completely enthralled Saturday morning cartoons. He's wearing a new pair of Spiderman pajamas—and her grin pulls tighter as she think of the way he's rubbed the warm fleece against his cheek and hugged them close as he looked up at her with wide hazel eyes, not realizing the entire point of the their shopping trip was to get him some warmer things in preparation for the coming winter. She shakes her head at the realization that he's only wearing only one of his slippers; the other rests forgotten on the floor beneath his bare foot that dangles off the edge of the couch. There's a box of Captain Crunch tucked between his knees and a box of Cocoa Puffs at his side, and her laugh goes unnoticed as she watches him dip one fist into one box as he eats the other cereal from his palm, staring wide-eyed and completely captivated at the television across from him unaware of her presence—and for an all too brief moment, she loses herself in her thoughts, unable to think of anything other than how much she loves the little boy in front of her.

She'd never been a fan of weekends. They only served as reminders of her loneliness. It's so strange to think that only a handful of months before, a Saturday morning would have meant waking up to complete silence and instead a cartoon's theme song and a little boy's laugh. And it's strange to think that just a few months before there wasn't a pair of muddy sneakers by the door and there wasn't a Captain America backpack perpetually propped against the bottom stair; there weren't drawings and school work scattered across refrigerator, hung up with homemade magnets, and there certainly wasn't a reason to be up at seven-fifteen on a Saturday. But now, her cupboards were now filled with fruit snacks and Teddy Grahams, there were stacks of comic books on the coffee table and smudges on the window where Henry liked to sit and read—and it amazes her that there was ever a time she hadn't realized how desperately she needed all of those things.

Swallowing hard she pushes away the lonely memories and smiles at Henry, not allowing her thoughts to wander too far out of the present, not allowing them to worry about what might lay before them when he discovers the inevitable—because the thought of a life without him in it is unfathomable, and the life she had before him feels like it belonged to someone else.

She can't help but laugh as Henry's now-empty palm dips into the box of Captain Crunch as the other hand draws out a fist full of Cocoa Puffs, and he begins to snack, completely unaware of her presence and completely engrossed in whatever cartoon he's watching—and she almost hates to interrupt.

"Two cereals?" She asks with a slight chuckle behind her words as she sinks down beside him and tips the box of Cocoa Puffs toward herself, grinning as she peers down into it, somewhat astonished by how quickly an eight-year old boy could make his way through a week's worth of groceries. "How much of this have you eaten?"

"Oh…" He murmurs, looking up at her with wide and suddenly concerned eyes as his chewing slows. "I… I couldn't decide which I wanted. Is it okay that I took both?"

There's a nervousness that piques in his voice, and for a brief moment, she's taken aback by his question and the look of alarm that registers in his eyes. She feels a pang of guilt at her work choices, reminded what his life before coming home with her to Storybrooke was like—and she's reminded of the sheepish way he'd asked her if he could get two cereals when they'd been grocery shopping the evening before, as if he were asking for something far more extravagant than a couple of four-dollar boxes of cereal.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to eat it," she replies gently, reaching out and touching her fingers to his chin as she offers him a warm grin. "I was just hoping you saved some room for some actual food." A grin twists onto her lips. "And I'm hoping to avoid the inevitable sugar crash." Leaning in, she rubs the tip of her nose against his. "Because I am pretty certain a grumpy pilgrim isn't going to work for Ms. Blanchard later this morning."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that…"

She nods and shakes her head as her smile pulls tighter as Henry's nose scrunches. Mary-Margaret Blanchard's annual Thanksgiving Pageant was schedule for the afternoon before Thanksgiving—and Henry was less than enthused. The week before when she'd picked him up from school, he'd gotten into the car with a huff, pouting out his bottom lip as he explained about the pageant. Of course, she'd know about it for years, and her office had to sign off on the funding, but she'd listened quietly as he grumbled about the costumes and the songs and the dances—and though she wasn't entirely sure what he found so off-putting about the whole thing, she found his grumpy side endearing.

By the time they'd gotten home, he'd given her all of the basic information—he, as a third grader would be a pilgrim, which was at least better than the younger students who would have to dress up as leaves and corn and wheat—and he scowled all through dinner. She'd stifled the urge to laugh at his dramatic mutterings and exaggerated sighs, and though she'd never been a fan of the production, she had to admit that he was going to look cute in his buckled shoes and cardboard hat. Since then, a couple of hours each day at school were dedicated to preparing for the pageant, and Saturdays they had to come in to rehearse; and despite all of his complaints, he did seem to enjoy it, and she enjoyed watching him interact with the other kids—laughing and teasing and so much more confident than he'd been just a few months before.

Henry giggles a little as his lip catches between his teeth and he looks up shyly. "I'm just in the background. I don't even have lines or anything. No one would notice."

"But there's that song you have to sing with the group and that little skippy-dancy thing you have to do—and trust me, Ms. Blanchard's pep will be a lot harder to handle if you're miserable and just want to nap."

"Yeah…" he murmurs, still looking a bit unsure. Her breath hitches in her chest because she understands what he's feeling and knows what it's like to spend each day waiting for the bottom to fall out from underneath you and to find yourself freefall back to the very beginning. "So, you're… you're not…mad that I opened both?"

"Not at all," she tells him, her voice sincere as she lifts his chin, tipping it up so that he can see her smile. "I won't knock your cereal-eating habits if you won't knock my morning smoothies."

Henry giggles—this time with a bit more confidence— and a lopsided grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "But they're green. And they look like they taste green, too."

"And what exactly does green taste like?"

"Gross," he says decisively. "Green tastes like gross."

She can't help but laugh as she rolls her eyes. "We are going to have to agree to disagree on this one."

"Sure it does," he says as a lopsided grin tugs onto his lips. "At least my cereals taste good together."

"I'll take your word for it," she tells him with a little laughed, as she brushes his hair from his forehead and leans in to kiss him. "So, how about some eggs…"

"And toast?" He asks, perking up a little. "Can we have toast with the eggs."

"Sure," she says with a decided nod. "Scrambled? Fried? Sunny side up? What do think?" She shakes her head and feels a soft fluttering in her chest as Henry's brow furrows, as if the question requires a deep amount of consideration. "Or we can make omelets?"

"Can we!?"

"Yeah," she tells him, standing up and offering him her hand, and smiling as his sticky fingers touch to her palm. "I have cheese and tomatoes from last night's tacos. What else do you want in it?"

"Bacon," he says quickly, this time needing no time for.

"You'd put bacon on anything, wouldn't you?"

Henry giggles at the question—and once more, she feels a smile tugging onto her lips as they reach the kitchen. He lets go of her hand, immediately climbing up onto one of the stools at the counter and watching as she gets out the bacon out of the refrigerator. He helps her lay it out on a baking sheet and beats the eggs together with a fork as she slides the bacon into the oven, and the worry and discomfort he'd felt just minutes before fades away, replaced by an in-depth summary of the Superman cartoon he'd been watching.

She listens intently as she dices the tomatoes—nodding and grinning at all the right moments—unwraps a few slices of American Cheese—something she'd never even knew existed until Henry came into her life. And when the skillet is warm enough, she pour the egg mixture into the it, waiting until it's warm and fluffy before adding the cheese, and Henry grins as he leans up onto the tips of his toes, inhaling deeply as his eyes close and the chatter trails off.

When the toast pops up from the toaster, Henry selects strawberry jam for himself and gets out the apple butter for her, smearing them onto pieces of toast and dropping them down beside the omelets as Regina pours the orange juice. They settle at the dining room table, and she can't help but laugh as Henry's fork cuts into the omelet before he's even fully seated.

"Roland's birthday is coming up soon," Henry says as he shoves a mouthful of omelet into his mouth. "Can we go shopping today to get him something before rehearsal?"

"Yeah," she says with a nod as she presses her fork into her own omelet. "I'd like to."

"He's really into Batman right know," Henry says, looking up at her. "But I don't know what comics he already has."

"I could ask Robin," she suggests, as her thoughts begin to drift back to the conversation she had with Roland about his birthday earlier in the week. "There's something I want to talk to him about anyway, but before I do, I kind of want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Well, Roland's birthday," she begins. "When we were at Robin's for dinner on Tuesday, he mentioned that they've never really done anything for his birthday."

"That's because it's the day his mom died. It makes them sad."

"Yeah, I know," she murmurs as she bites into her toast. "So, I was thinking that—maybe as sort of a thank you for Roland and Robin for being such good friends to us—we could do something special for Roland's birthday. Something that's… just the four of us, something Roland would really enjoy that he doesn't get to do very often, and something that could maybe take their minds off being sad."

"That's a good idea."

"Do you know of anything that Roland would like to do? I'm not really sure where to begin…"

"Hmmm," Henry says as he bites into his toast. "Can I think about it for awhile? Because I think it'll have to be really special to take his mind off of his mom."

"Yeah, of course." She grins as Henry leans back in the chair, slowly chewing his food and twirling his fork as he considers it, and once more, she can't help but think of how incredible happy this sweet little boy makes her—and then, her thoughts begin to drift to whatever the following weekend will entail and the thought of spending an entire day with Henry and Roland and Robin in celebration of Roland's sixth birthday, and when her smile pulls tighter across her lips, she can't help but feel a bit taken aback by how happy those thoughts make her feel.

Tugging on her coat, she calls for Henry again, and once more is met by an obviously distracted I'll be down in a minute! reply. Rolling her eyes, she knots the belt and reaches for Henry's coat and the gray and red striped scarf he fell in love with on their last outing. She smiles a little, remembering how he'd slowly pulled it from the rack—grinning as he explained that it reminded him of the scarves students at Hogwarts wore. Her eyes had narrowed and her head tipped to the side as Henry's eyes widened in shock at the revelation his mother knew nothing of Harry Potter. The next thing she knew, they were in the book aisle and Henry was dropping Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone into the cart—and then she added in the rest. On the way home that night Henry chattered on excitedly about how he'd spend cold Saturday mornings curled up on a bean bag chair in the children's section of the New York Public Library reading Harry Potter—something she found equal parts endearing and heart breaking.

"Henry are you…" Her voice halts as his bedroom door opens, and before she even has time to look up, Henry is bounding toward her on the stairs. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down," she says, holding out her hands as she finds her voice. "What's the rush?"

"I figured it out! I figured out what we can do for Roland's birthday!" Her eyebrows arch and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as Henry pushes folded up brochure into her hand—and as soon as she looks down at her, her heart skips a beat. "It's perfect. It's a zoo and an amusement park in one. They have lamas and mountain lions and sloths and ostrichs and fennec foxes and even a spider monkey. Plus all of the ride are for little kids, so Roland could go on all of them. There's an amphibian room and a butterfly garden and a train and a fun house, and it's just a couple of hours away." Regina blinks and looks from the brochure to Henry, whose eyes are wide and hopeful. "It's in York."

"H-how did you… find this?"

"Well, when we were driving here, we passed it," Henry says easily, too excited to pick up on her obvious discomfort. "Remember? We were going to stop, but it was getting late and I kept falling asleep."

"Yeah," she says, just barely managing to push out her voice as she looks down at the glossy cover of the York Zoo and Amusement Park brochure. "I remember that."

"We got the brochure at a rest stop."

"Right…"

"So, can we go? Can we take Roland?"

She barely hears the questions and Henry's voice echoes in her ears, drowned out by the rapid beats of her heart. An ache settles in her chest, making it difficult to breathe, and she can't bring herself to look up from the brochure at her fingertips. She can hear Henry still talking, explaining something about the amusement park, but she can't quite make out his words. Her mouth is dry and her head is spinning, and when she finally looks back at Henry, she can't think of any logical reason she should say no to the idea—after all, Henry did exactly what she asked of him—and it's not like she can just nonchalantly explain that Robin and Roland aren't able to cross the town line, that they're perpetually stuck in their cursed existence, so instead, she says nothing.

"Well? What do you think?" She blinks and takes a breath and watches as Henry's brow furrows a bit. "Mom, it'd be so fun. Please?"

She lets out a shallow breath as he calls her mom—something she's still not completely used to and a title she wears as if a badge of honor—and she finds herself nodding. "Well, I… I have to clear it with Robin and…"

"YES!" Henry exclaims, throwing himself forward and wrapping his arms around her waist, knocking her back just a little as her arms instinctively fold around him. "This is going to be the best," he tells her, as he pulls back and hops off the last stair. She turns, and watches Henry slip into his coat and she flinches as he reaches for the scraf draped over her arm. "Make sure you bring the brochure to show Robin."

"Oh," she nods and glances at the brochure between her fingers, "Yeah. Of course," she tells him, silently hoping that Robin has an animal-dander allergy or perhaps Roland gets sick in the car—but there's a sinking feeling in her stomach that tells her neither of those things are true and she hates herself for already knowing that she'll never actually find out, that she has no intention of talking to Robin about the amusement park and the inevitable disappointment that will settle in Henry's eyes will be a result of yet another lie she's told, another lie that she's built her entire life around.

The knot in her stomach tightens and tightens as they walk toward the elementary school with Henry chattering on as he holds her hand, swinging it back and forth. He doesn't seem to realize that the conversation they're having isn't a conversation at all, and that he's the only one talking. In some ways, it's a relief.

They make their way to the gym and Henry waves goodbye, then disappears into a crowd of small children—and she falls back into one of the folding chairs against the wall. Her eyes close and her head tilts back—hating herself for what she can't change. It's not just that she'll disappoint Henry—it's that for an all too brief and fleeting moment, she allowed herself to think of what it'd be like to pack the boys up into the car, and go for a long drive up the interstate, pointing out the changing colors of the trees; she thought about how Roland and Henry would ride rides together, how they'd laugh and scream, how their cheeks would be red from the cool, fall air and how they'd sip hot chocolate as she looked at the animals; and she thought about what it would be like to share that experience with Robin. She let herself think that it might be like Halloween—that he might take her hand and her fingers might lace through his, that they'd trade grins and he'd look at her the way that he sometimes does, and for just a little while, she could pretend that they could be more than they are.

She sighs softly and swallows hard, hating that she let herself think about those things—because not only has she disappointed Henry, she's disappointed herself. And somehow, she feels than she did before.

"Hey, you." She blinks her eyes open as Robin sits down beside her, nudging her arm. "Rough morning?"

"Not… exactly," she murmurs unconvincingly.

"You sure?" He asks, arching his eyebrow at her. "You have the same look on your face that you had when Mary Margaret Blanchard made you come up on stage and pretend to be a tee-pee and a bunch of second graders had to dance around you." He grins, obviously enjoying the memory. "For a solid hour."

"Are you telling me I look homicidal?"

"No," he says with a slight chuckle. "I'm telling you that you look miserable."

"I'm not though…"

"Fine," he concedes as he leans back in the chair beside her. "You don't have to tell me." With a sigh she crosses her arms over her chest. "But maybe coffee will help."

"I'm not in the mood for the burnt Maxwell House this school serves."

"Oh, but it's not Maxwell House…" He nudges her again. "It's fresh from home and still hot."

Slowly, she turns and looks at the stainless steel travel mug he's extending her. "You… brought me coffee."

"Well, I know how particular you can be…" He murmurs, grinning as she takes the mug from him. "And I made a whole pot, so it seemed appropriate."

"Thank you," she tells him with a sincere nod. "I… appreciate it."

"Had I known you were having a rough morning I'd have made it of the Irish variety."

A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. "That's illegal, you know."

"Is it?"

"We're in a school."

"And you're the mayor," he adds.

"I am."

"And that would have put you in an awkward position."

"It would have."

A smile twists onto his lips, "As awkward as being a human tee-pee?"

At that, she rolls her eyes and sighs. "Shut up," she murmurs as she takes a sip of the coffee.

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?"

"There's nothing to tell," she insists, almost believing herself.

"Oh, so it doesn't have anything to do with that paper you're choking the life out of?"

"What?" She blinks as she looks at him, and then slowly, she looks down at her hand, realizing that she's still holding onto the brochure for the amusement park that Henry handed her on the stairs. "Oh."

Tentatively, he reaches for it, pulling the glossy paper through her fingers and her grip loosens to allow it. She watches as he unfolds the brochure, looking down at the cover before his eyes dart quickly back up at her and then back down to the cover. "This… is what you're upset about?" He blinks. "Not a fan of the new giraffe." She doesn't smile and he sighs. "I'm sorry."

"It's… fine," she tells him as she watches him open the brochure, watching a faint smile form on his lips—and once more she allows herself to daydream about what it could be like in another life. "I'm not… upset about that," she hears herself say. "Henry and I had this idea that we could do something special for Roland's birthday."

"And this is… the something special?"

She takes a breath. "I thought we could do…" Her voice trails off. "I don't actually know what I thought, but I thought it'd be nice for the four of us to do something. But Henry found this brochure and…" She shrugs and looks away from him, focusing for a moment on the stage. A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth as she watches Henry help Roland adjust his costume and says something to make him laugh. "…and he thought this could be the something special."

"You know, you two don't have to do anything special for Roland's birthday. I just mean…"

"Robin," she interjects, turning to face him. "We want to. You and Roland have been such good friends to us and…" She shrugs. "It'd be fun."

She's not quite sure why she said it—not quite sure why she didn't take the out he was so obviously giving her; but she finds herself holding her breath as Robin looks back to the brochure and flips the page, and she's not entirely sure what she wants his response to be.

"Yeah," tells her with a nod. "It would be fun." Her immediate response is to smile as Robin's smile broadens as he looks back to her. "I don't actually remember the last time Roland and I left Storybrooke…"

"Oh," she murmurs as a pang of guilt pinches at her core—that's because they've never left and it was virtually impossible for them to do so. She takes a breath and puts on a smile. "Well, then I think we have to," she manages to say, not entirely sure how she's going to make the impossible possible and she's not entirely sure she won't be stricken with some malady that ruins the plan—but for that afternoon, she decides to let herself get lost in the daydream.

She waits anxiously in the foyer, watching as Robin's truck parks in front of her house, and she cranes her neck to see over the hedges—and she can't help but smile as Robin lifts Roland down, swinging him around before setting him down and reaching for their bags. She swallows hard as her smile fades at the realization that it's too late to back out now. She wrings her fingers in her hands and watches as they approach, watching as Roland hops up the stairs as Robin cradles two coffees.

That morning, she considered backing out—a cough or perhaps a headache, some sort of malady that would be just enough to have to cancel. But every time she dared to reach for the phone, she couldn't bring herself to do it, and a little voice in the back of her head told her to have a little faith, that it would all work out—and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut it up and she couldn't bring herself to tell yet another lie, especially not one that would only lead to a little boy's disappointment.

Robin knocked lightly at the door and her heart fluttered with nervousness and odd sense of calmness that she felt whenever he was nearby—and then a slight grin pulled onto her lips as she opened the door to the father and son wearing matching smiles.

"We were up before the sun!" Roland exclaims as the door opens, and she laughs a little. "I don't think I've ever been up this early."

"Well, I hope it'll be worth it," Regina says, doing her best to hide her nerves.

"Coffee will help," Robin tells her, offering a wink as he extend a large Styrofoam cup. "We made a pit-stop at Granny's."

"I didn't realize she was open this early…"

"Oh, she's not," Robin laughs.

"She made me a special sandwich because it's my birthday!"

"It is, isn't it?" Roland nods, and for a brief moment, Regina's able to forget her nerves. "So, how does it feel to be six."

Roland brow's furrows as he considers the question. "A lot like five, actually."

"Oh," Regina laughs. "I guess that… makes sense. You've only been six for a few hours."

"Yeah," Roland nods as he glances toward the stairs, obviously in search of Henry. "I might feel differently later."

"Perhaps," Regina agrees, as her eyes follow his gaze. "You know, Henry's just getting his shoes on in his room. You should go up and see if he's ready." She can't help but laugh as Roland darts toward the stairs, obviously not needing any convincing—and the moment faded away and her stomach fluttered as she looked back to Robin. "Oh, let me take that," she murmurs as she shifts the coffee into her other hand and reaches for Roland's bag, her heart warming at the realization that the little handle at the top was shaped like Hulk's fist and she remembered the way Robin had sighed as he told her how long it had taken Roland pick out that particular backpack, and how he'd analyzed every last detail of every bag before finally settling on the green and purple Hulk bag—and then becoming obsessed with it, and wanting to take it everywhere.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Um, no, I think I've got everything," she says, glancing toward the stairs. "I was just packing up some snacks for the…"

"Snacks?" Henry asks with wide eyes as Roland hands him one half of the sandwich. "What kind of snacks?"

"Yeah," Roland echoes with a full mouth. "What kind of snacks?"

"Just some granola bars and…"

"Ooooh," Roland murmurs, his eyes widening. "I love granola bars."

Regina can't help but laugh—mostly because it's true. In the time that she's known Robin and his son, she's never known Roland to turn down a baked good—even a baked good that borderlines on healthy. Her heart warms as his smile brightens in anticipation, and for a brief moment, she's a little taken aback by the way that smile warms her heart and settles her nerves—as if to remind her that whatever risk she's about to take is worthwhile.

He's practically bouncing as he skips down a few stairs, as Henry pulls the brochure for the zoo and amusement park from his pocket—and she realizes the boys have stopped mid-way on the stairs and have struck up a conversation about the animals they'll be seeing that afternoon. She glances over at Robin, who's grinning softly at the exchange.

"So, they really have tigers?" Roland asks.

"Yeah," Henry nods. "Well, it says they do in here."

"Orange ones?"

"Yup," Henry confirms.

"Do you think we'll get to feed them?"

Robin laughs out and she feels her own laugh bubbling her chest as she bites down on her bottom lip. "Oh," Henry murmurs. "No, probably not," Henry says in a gentle tone. "I mean, we're probably what they want to eat, so it's probably against the rules. You know, for our own safety."

"Oh…" Roland murmurs, as his grin fades away. "I was really looking forward to that."

"But there are other animals we can probably feed," Henry says, as he nudges Roland shoulder."They have llamas," Henry murmurs, looking down at the brochure. "I bet we could feed those, and I bet their noses tickle."

At that, Roland perks up. "You think so?"

"I mean, look." Regina feels her heart swell as Henry lowers the brochure to Roland. "Those look like tickly noses to me, don't you think so?"

"Definitely!" Roland agrees with an overly emphatic not. "They definitely look like they tickle."

"I bet we'll also get to hold lizards. And the rollercoaster looks really cool."

"And they have elephant ears!"

Again Robin laughs out, stepping up onto the bottom stairs and sweeping Roland up and off of the stair, and swinging him around into the foyer. Henry skips down the stairs and joins them—and she can't help the smile that tugs onto her lips or the tears that begin to well as she watches Robin put his arm around Henry's shoulders and tussel his hair as offers him a quick and subtle wink.

"Uh, why don't you guys go and put the bags in the car," Regina says, as she sniffs back her tears. "And I'll finish packing up those snacks."

Roland and Henry grab the bags, lugging them toward the door and Robin follows her into the kitchen, helping her to pack up the granola bars and some other things, all the while teasing her about the amount of food she was bringing to stave them over on a four-hour trip. She nodded and rolled her eyes, and made a quip or two, not able to admit the real reason she's spent the night baking granola bars and prepping snack bags was because it was something she could actually control—unlike getting two cursed people across the town line…

She'd spent days in her vault, reading dusty leather-bound books that she hadn't touched in years, considering spells and potions, hexes and counter-spells, in search of something that would allow Robin and Roland to cross the town line unharmed. And when she finally thought she actually found something that could possible work, her excitement was short-lived upon the realization that she had no way of testing it to be sure. It occurred to her that she could just snag some poor unfortunate Storybrooke resident and toss them over the line, then wipe their memory clean, but that wouldn't have actually worked because the spell itself contained a rather tricky component, requiring something that couldn't be tested or measured, and certainly couldn't be used on just anyone. The spell required three very specific elements which worked as a catalyst for the rest—it required mutual feelings trust, loyalty and love. So while she painstakingly made sure the potion was correctly prepared, that the ingredients were measured exactly and applied perfectly, she couldn't guarantee the rest of it because while the feelings were there on her end—though she could barely admit that to even herself—she couldn't be sure about Robin or Roland.

The evening after she prepared the potion, she set her plan into motion and felt slight pangs of guilt for even the most innocent of deceptions. She'd invited them over and set up little craft table in the living room and printed out instructions to make friendship bracelets, then laid out the supplies—all of which had been soaked in the potion she'd created. Henry and Roland had been thrilled about the brightly colored beads and strips of ribbon and leather—and to her relief, Robin sat down at the table with them and showed them how to make slip knots so the bracelets could be easily taken off and put back on. She'd sat down, too, and she had to remind herself to stay calm and not let her nerves show as she reached for a few strips of leather. She braided the three strips together, then made the knot and took a breath as she extended it to Robin, and she'd breathed sigh of relief as he accepted it, sliding it onto his wrist and teasing that she'd picked the perfect color palate of gray, brown and green for him—an obvious sigh of true friendship.

When the snacks are packed, Robin takes the bag from the counter and hands her her coffee, offering an excited grin as they pass through the house and join the boys in the car. She takes a deep breath as she catches a glimpse of Robin's wrist, feeling only minutely better at the sight of the bracelet as she turns the key in the ignition.

The knot in her stomach tightens, and she's grateful when Robin turns and strikes up a conversation with the boys, not noticing her obvious discomfort. As they turn down Main Street Robin asks the boys what the first thing they'll want to do when they get to the amusement park and zoo, and she manages a smile when Roland very candidly shares that he'll probably want to go to the bathroom.

"You know," Robin begins, as he turns himself around in the passenger seat, and looks out at the open road ahead of them, the road that leads from Storybrooke into the real world. "I don't actually remember the last time I went somewhere outside of Storybrooke."

"Oh, really?" She asks, trying to sound surprised.

"Yeah," he says in a reflective voice. "It's funny. I actually can't remember."

"Yeah," she murmurs with a short nod. "That is."

Her heart pounds rapidly and the beat echoes in her ears, and she quickly glances at Roland through the rearview mirror. He, too, is wearing the bracelet that Henry gave him, and as they near the town line, she holds her breath and hopes that it's enough. Her finger tighten on the steering wheel and it takes everything in her not to close her eyes and brace herself for what she fears will be the inevitable—and then, almost suddenly, they're across the line and outside of Storybrooke.

Henry and Roland laugh in the back seat, and from the corner of her eye, she can see Robin turning his head to smile back at them—and then, her hands relax as relief washes over her. And in her relief, she doesn't even have time to process what Robin and Roland being able to cross the town line with her and Henry actually meant for the four of them.

"You know," Robin begins as he leans against an iron fence, watching as Roland and Henry climb into the first car of a mini-roller coaster. "You really didn't have to do this." He grins as she looks back at him. "I mean, I'm glad you did because my son is having an incredible day, but…"

"I wanted to."

"I know," he nods. "But I really don't know how to thank you for this one—or to repay you."

"You don't need to," Regina says quickly, as she leans forward on the fence beside him. "Like I said, I wanted to do this for him." She shrugs, thinking back to Henry's birthday at Coney Island and how good it felt to hear him laugh that day, how her heart had swelled as his eyes grew wide with excitement as she handed him a watermelon slush drink and a roll of tickets to play more games, and how good that feeling felt. "I… might be the sort of person who buys her way into the hearts of small children she feels affection toward."

Robin laughs and shakes his head, "You're not, actually." Her eyebrow arches, somewhat taken aback by insistence in his voice. "You show it in a lot of ways—your generosity is just among the ways."

She blinks, and for a moment, she's not sure what it say because no one—with the exception of Henry whose outlook on the world was from a child's view—had ever accepted her intentions without looking for some sort of ulterior motive. As a girl, her generosity was viewed as foolish, something that would land her into trouble, and as Queen it was altogether ignored—unless of course, it was bestowed onto her, and then, there was always a catch. In her later, darker years, she'd accepted that generosity was never without motive—and the by the time she'd arrived in Storybrooke, it scarcely mattered because nothing lasted and no one ever remembered.

"You… look surprised by that."

"I am," she admits quietly. "That's not usually a word people use to describe me."

"No?" He laughs. "Well, those people don't know you very well then." A small smile pulls onto her lips and she looks back at the ride, watching as the car pulls up the first incline. "This is the first birthday my son has had that wasn't bittersweet," he tells her. "Sometimes they've been more bitter than sweet, and that's mostly my doing, but…"

"That's understandable."

"Maybe," Robin says with a sigh, as they both turn to face each other. "But he doesn't remember Marian. He didn't know her, yet he lives with this cloud over him, he lives knowing that because he's here, his mother isn't—and that cloud is there because of me and the way I've handled things."

"Robin, you're grieving. You miss…"

"I know, I know," he cuts in, shaking his head and laughing uncomfortably. "I handled it the way I handled it, and I can't change any of that, just like I can't change that she died giving birth. My son would have known that, one way or the other, eventually." He pauses for a moment, as the sound of children laughing and screaming as the rollercoaster drops over the top of the incline as he smiles. "On his last birthday he apologized to me. He apologized because he was here, and Marian wasn't, and he knows that hurts me. My five-year old son felt his existence was something that need to be apologized for."

"Oh, Robin," she murmurs, not really knowing what to say, and feeling a slight pang of guilt at the sudden realization that all of those sad memories he holds, are memories he holds because of her and the curse. "I'm sorry."

"I… didn't mean for this conversation to go this way…"

"It's okay."

He shakes his head. "All I meant to say was this is the first birthday my son hasn't been overshadowed, and that's been all about him, celebrating him, doing the things that make him happy, being with people who make him happy—and I don't think you realize how much that means to me."

She feels a lump rising at the back of her throat, and she's not sure what to say and she's not sure how to process the rush of emotion she feels. So reaches for his hand, sliding hers over his and wrapping her fingers around his wrist as her thumb rubs gently—and when she looks back to the ride, she can see a hint of a smile on his lips as he, too, turns his attention back to their sons.

The rest of the day takes a happier note—the boys continue to ride rides, and they visit the indoor butterfly garden and the reptile house—and Roland giggles as one of the workers sets a little green lizard into his hands, and its tail swishes and tickles his palm. When noon rolls around, Regina claims a little table in front of the enclosure where the tigers are kept and Robin takes the boys to one of the food stands—and she sighs a little when they returns with a tray full of chili dogs, cheese fries, and sodas—and she can't help but notice the way the little smiles Henry and Roland exchange as they rush to one end of the table so that their parents have to sit beside one another.

"Can we go on more rides now?" Roland asks as he chews his last fry and licks his cheese-covered fingers. "Please?"

"How about something… slow?" Robin laughs as he extends a napkin to his son, who looks at it like he doesn't know what it is or what it's used for. "Take a few minutes to digest."

"I'm not sure what we just ate can be digested," Regina says, earning an eye roll from all three of them.

"The tigers are out at the other end," Henry says, standing up and craning his neck to get a better look at the giant cats. "We could look at those for awhile."

And before either Robin or Regina can respond, the boys are running to the opposite end of the enclosure. They laugh as they gather up the remnants of their lunches, and throw them away, and Robin laughs as Regina pulls hand-sanitizer from her purse and squeezes some into her hand—and then squeezes some into his hands. Shivering, she rubs her hands together, spreading the cool hand sanitizer over the back of her hand and into her palm—and when she looks up, Robin is grinning at her. She tips her head as he reaches for her hand, rubbing it between his to warm her up—and when one hand falls away, the other forms around hers and she finds it impossible to pull away.

They hold hands as they watch the Tigers lounging on a grassy bank, and then as they walk to the lions in the next enclosure, Robin gives her hand a little squeeze. Roland and Henry are oblivious, giggling together about the lion's fuzzy main, commenting about how it would make a funny winter hat, and Robin laughs, informing them all that he's always liked lions—and then they all laugh when Roland suggests one a as pet.

"Perhaps a smaller cat would be a better idea," Robin says as Roland sighs and rolls his eyes, muttering something about how cool it would be to have a lion, and Henry giggles and tells him they could name the cat Simba as they make their way to the next enclosure.

The November wind picks up, sending a shiver down her spine as the boys get into line for the next ride, and Robin tugs her closer as they wait at the fence, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with their fingers laced together—and then, as the boys climb onto the ride, Robin lets go and his arm slides around her waist, and almost instinctively, she steps just a little closer, pressing her cheek into the warm fabric of his coat as they watch the boys laugh, completely unaffected by the cool air.

They stay that way until the boys rejoin them, reporting that they're running low on tickets—and Robin swoops in for the rescue. She leads the boys over to some of the games while Robin waits in the ticket line—and she makes an off-handed comment about the cute stuffed fox that's displayed as the biggest prize for the ring toss game.

"You should try to win it," Henry says as he glances at Roland. "It is cute."

"Yeah, really cute," Roland agrees. "You should get it!"

"Ring-tossing isn't exactly in my skill set."

"Maybe it's in Robin's," Henry says as Roland grins and nods. "Maybe he could win it for you."

"Maybe I could win what?" Robin asks, jogging back up to them with two long strips of orange tickets in hand as he glances between them all. "You know I love a good challenge."

Regina rolls her eyes as Robin divides the tickets between the boys. "Nothing."

"My mom like that fox," Henry tells him, pointing in the direction of the ring toss. "But she doesn't think she can win it on her own."

"You should try to win it for her, Dad!"

Robin turns back to her and she watches as a little grin edges onto his lips and his blue eyes shimmer at the prospect. "You want the fox, huh?"

"No, I just… thought he was cute," she tells him with a shrug. "He looks soft."

"So you want the fox."

"I think she does," Henry murmurs.

"I don't. I just think it's a cute stuffed animal."

"And if I won it for you, you'd…"

"Still think that it's a child's toy."

"Oh come on," Robin says, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out another stand of tickets. "It'll be fun, and I'd hate for these to go to waste."

"You could win something for your son," Regina counters, her eyebrow arching up in protest. "It is his birthday after all."

"It is his birthday," Robin nods, as he looks to Roland. "And his smile tells me he wants you to have that fox…"

"I do," Roland interjects as he rubs his hands together in anticipation.

Regina looks between the three of them—and for the life of her, she can't fathom how this has turned into some sort of competition—a competition that she's very clearly losing. "Fine," she sighs as her eyes roll. "But this isn't necessary."

"While you guys do that," Henry says as they take a step forward. "Roland and I are going to go wait in line for the bumper cars."

"The bumper cars?" Roland asks, turning toward him as his nose scrunches. "But I want to watch…"

"Roland…"Henry cuts in. "Remember how much you wanted to go on the bumper cars?

Regina watches as Henry shoots Roland a look, and Roland eyes widen with some sort of realization. "Ooh," he breathes out. "I forgot how much I wanted to do that!"

Regina's eyebrow arches again and Robin chuckles softly as Henry takes Roland's hand and leads him to the bumper car line just a few yards away from them; and then, Robin turns to her, grinning as he holds up the tickets. "So," he begins. "Are you ready to go and win a fox?"

She just laughs and follows him, looking behind herself every now and then, and watching the boys standing in line, waiting for their turn on the bumper cars—and once more, she finds it all too easy to forget that all of this is nothing more than a façade.

When the sun sets, overhead lights turn on. Just about every ride has bright, flashing lights and Christmas-style lights hang above all of the games. They eat dinner—this time Italian sausage and curly fries—on a picnic table, and watch the glittering lights as Roland chatters on and on about how this has been his favorite birthday. And, she feels an odd mix of emotion, not really sure how she feels about any of it. On one hand, she's glad that Roland enjoyed his birthday and that she was able to be a part of it, but on the other hand, she can't help but feel guilty over the memories she's given him—that in quest for revenge on one person, she took away the happy ending of the innocent little boy she's come to care so much about.

"You know," Robin begins as he takes a sip of his soda. "I saw a cupcake stand a little ways back."

"Really?" Roland asks, suddenly perking up.

"I didn't see that," Henry adds, looking between them.

"And this wouldn't really be a birthday without some kind of cake, would it?"

"Oh," Regina murmurs as grin tugs onto her lips. "That's a good point."

"It is a good point," Henry agrees.

"So, what do you say we walk over and get a few?"

"Yeah!" The boys both exclaim as Robin stands up and lifts Roland onto his shoulders—and reminds her not to forget her stuffed fox.

Regina grins as she tucks the little fox beneath her arm and she takes Henry's hand, pulling him into her side as she stretches an arm around his shoulders and bends to drop a quick kiss atop his head. Her heart warms as he presses himself into her side as they walk together, and once more, her guilt fades away.

While Robin gets into the cupcake line, Regina settles on the bench with the boys—who suddenly seem more docile than they were just a few minutes before. Henry leans against her, and to her surprise, Roland cuddles into her other side—and once more, her heart swells as she feels a rush of emotion. The three of them sit quietly together, and Regina stokes her fingers over their arms. Henry asks if they can watch a movie when they get back to the hotel, and Roland agrees that's something he'd like to do—and when Regina looks up, Robin is standing only a few yards away, watching her with a look that she can't quite place.

When their eyes meet, he smiles and starts forward, joining them on the bench. He scoops up Roland and sits down beside her, holding his son on his lap as he passes out the cupcakes—double chocolate for the boys, apple cinnamon for Regina and cherry vanilla for himself. The boys continue to talk about what movie they want to watch when they get back to the hotel, and every now and then, when she looks up, Robin is yet again looking at her with that indescribable look that she can't quite figure out.

"Hey," Robin murmurs, as he reaches into his pocket. "I still have four tickets left."

"Oh," Regina murmurs. "I think that's enough for you two to go on one last ride."

"We could go on the Merry-Go-Round," Roland says as he lifts his head from Robin's shoulder and looks to Henry. "We could pretend we're racing horses!"

"Like in Mary Poppins!"

"Yeah!"

"Well, I think it's decided then," Robin laughs as he hands two tickets to Henry, then two to Roland. "The line's not too long either." The boys scurry off, running toward the Merry-Go-Round, and Robin settles back beside her. "Thank you—again," he tells her. "He's had such a wonderful day."

"I think we all have," she replies. "And you don't have to thank me. He's a great kid. He deserved a little birthday fun."

"Well, like I said earlier—this means a lot to us." She watches a Robin takes a breath. "And not just this, not just today," he adds. "Having you and Henry in our lives has made our lives infinitely happier."

"Yeah, I think that's… mutual."

Robin just nods and for a moment, he hesitates—and then, he begins to lean in. Every fiber of her being wants to lean in, to press her lips against his, to let her hand slide around the back of his neck, to draw him closer and to hold him, and to finally give in to everything she's been feeling for the last few months.

But she can't.

She can't because it wouldn't be fair, and suddenly, all of the guilt she'd been keep at bay comes rushing forward, flooding her senses and the little voice inside of her head screams at her for messing this up before it ever truly began.

"Robin," she murmurs as his lips brush over hers. "Robin, I…" Her voice halts as his finger tips graze lightly against her jaw, and for a moment, all she can think about is how good that kiss would feel—and then she realizes how selfish it would be to allow it to happen, to allow him believe there could be something between them, to allow him to think they might have a future together, to allow him to think that anything in their lives is anything more than pretense. "We shouldn't be doing this," she murmurs as she pulls herself back, sliding away from him and pinching her eyes closed. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything and when she opens her eyes, he's staring past her in complete disbelief. He doesn't look angry, but he does look disappointed and confused, and she reminds herself that he's cursed, that his decisions aren't truly his own, that everything he thinks he knows about his own life is an illusion and it's illusion that she created. And she reminds herself that the person he wanted to kiss isn't actually there, that the person he wanted to kiss doesn't really exist.

"I… I don't understand," he murmurs. "I thought…"

"I'm sorry."

"For weeks… for months… I thought…"

"I'm sorry, Robin," she interjects in a shaky voice. "I wanted…" And then she stops, and reminds herself that what she wants doesn't really matter. "It's not you…"

"Please, don't do that. Don't give me that line."

"But it's true."

Sitting back against the bench, he takes a deep breath and tips back his head, letting his eyes close for a moment. "I… I'm in love with you, Regina," he says plainly. "I am head over heels in love with you. I'm crazy about your kid, and I…" He sighs. "And I… I thought…" Opening his eyes, he turns and looks at her. "Did I really misread it all?"

"It's… complicated," she murmurs back. "I'm sorry."

"No," he breathes out as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "I am."

"Robin…"

"You were perfectly clear at the start. You didn't want to date someone. You weren't looking for a relationship. You told me that, but I…"

"Robin, this isn't…"

"I didn't listen. I thought your feelings could change. I thought… they were changing."

Tears well in her eyes, and she wants desperately to tell him that they did change, that she feels the same way that he does. She wants to tell him that she's fallen in love—and though she never expected that to happen, she's so glad that it did. But she doesn't because she understands that they're not a level playing field, and if he knew the truth, if he knew who and what she was, he wouldn't feel the way that he does now. He couldn't possibly.