Half Empty

. . .

Fiona stared at the ogre who sat beside her at the table. His eyes lowered from hers, to his hands folded in front of him.

She couldn't speak, even if there'd been words she wanted to say. Her mind contained very little at the moment, as what Shrek had just told her cleared it of any coherent thought.

He'd mentioned he wanted to talk about something that had happened at the birthday party last month. She of course agreed, but she wasn't entirely sure what it was he was referring to - she'd racked her brain for anything negative or out of the ordinary at all that had happened that day.

When he'd arranged for Dragon and Donkey to take the kids for the day, the sinking feeling deepened in her mind that whatever it was, it would take more than a few minutes to discuss.

It's not like she hadn't noticed his dip in mood in the months previous. And it's not like she hadn't noticed its marked improvement in the last few weeks, either - as if a switch had been flipped, really. He was more affectionate with her - something she'd forgotten she'd missed until its resurgence reminded her. He no longer stayed up past when she would go to bed, for whatever reason he'd been doing so. It was as if he never wanted the kids out of his sight, caring for and playing with them as much as he physically was capable of, which of course absolutely delighted the three. Even their friends hadn't been wearing on his nerves like they tended to. She'd actually been so naive to think that celebrating their children's first birthday had been what helped him.

That's what she had let herself conclude, at least, up until about an hour ago.

The ogre she loved, married, had a family with, and was undeniably her True Love… had done this. And she'd been none the wiser.

She would have REMAINED none the wiser had he not told her.

None the wiser that she and her children had been snapped away with a few strokes of ink on parchment.

It felt as if the past month was some kind of cruel joke, taunting her with bliss while all the while waiting to deal the killing blow.

The ogre in front of her, inches from her, was sorry - TRULY sorry. She knew. She could feel it. He'd been tricked and manipulated by a conniving, highly intelligent individual. He'd thought it would be a one-and-done day, no strings attached.

But it didn't change what he'd done, consumed in his own self-absorption. What he'd failed to share with her for months on end - as if he'd been the only one struggling. What had almost been allowed to become permanent.

But he DID fix it. He'd set everything right in a nightmarish alternate universe that was built for his failure. And he fixed it by falling in love with her… well, NOT her, but whatever version of her had emerged in a timeline where she'd never been rescued.

Her mind was being pulled in two directions - one desperately clinging to how he'd redeemed himself, and one forcing her to acknowledge what needed redeeming in the first place.

She blinked, realizing she had just been staring at him, unaware of what expression her face wore, if any at all. She opened her mouth to speak, though she wasn't entirely sure what might leave her mouth. Shrek's eyes immediately lifted back up to her face as he saw her expression change. His ears receded ever so slightly.

Fiona couldn't produce any words, as seconds passed with her lips parted. She stood from her seat, her chair squeaking sharply on the floor at the abrupt movement. She felt her feet move her body towards the front door. She heard Shrek take a breath to speak, but she beat him to the punch.

"I'm taking a walk." Fiona pulled the door open, letting the mockingly bright sunlight stream into the house.

"Fi–" Shrek began.

"Stay here if they come back with the kids."

"Fiona, please–"

"I'll be back soon." She pulled the door closed behind her.


"…I'll be back soon?" Shrek repeated, looking at her as he tied his vest.

Fiona blinked out of her recollection, and turned her gaze from the spot on the ceiling above the bed where she'd zoned out, to her husband.

"Okay," she replied. Her eyes drifted over to the yellow and blue beginnings of sunrise out of the bedroom window.

Shrek walked over to her, and kissed her on the forehead. He put a light hand on her stomach over the duvet. She met his hand and offered him a slight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Shrek turned again to leave, picking up the satchel he'd set on Fiona's vanity.

"Merry Christmas," Fiona said to his back, her tone dry.

Shrek let out his own self-aware exhale, half looking over his shoulder back at her as he reached to move the curtain aside. "Merry Christmas."

Fiona looked back up at the ceiling, hearing the front door creak open and closed, followed by heavy footsteps fading down the courtyard. She closed her eyes for a while, but her brain was far too noisy to fall back asleep. She might as well start breakfast. Shrek had offered to do so, but she insisted he get going as soon as possible - besides, last night's leftovers would be quick work to reheat.

She did, however, need to visit the outhouse before doing anything.

As Fiona descended the stairs, her eyes were again drawn to her daughter's door across the main room, still ajar. She looked at her sons' closed door beside it. She paused as she set foot on the floor, listening for any activity within, but there was nothing. She knew they hadn't left, as she hadn't slept very well the remainder of the night.

As she returned from the outhouse, she opened the door to see Farkle burping the lit match onto the fresh firewood in the hearth, and Fergus unpacking the leftovers on the table, both still in their pajamas. They looked up at her surprised face in the doorway, before quickly returning to their tasks.

"Merry Christmas," Fergus mumbled as he opened the various bundles, looking back up at his mother for another brief half-second.

"Merry Christmas," Fiona replied genuinely. "Thanks, guys. I was gonna start on that myself–"

"We got it," Farkle interjected simply, barely meeting her eye as he stood to put the matches back on the shelf.

"I appreciate it." Fiona stepped inside and closed the door, her head turning toward the sink basin to–

"Kettle's filled already." Fergus lifted it off the table to hang over the newly lit fire.

"Oh." Her eyes fell onto her place at the table, already set with a plate, utensils, and a mug with tea leaves. They really were their father's sons, she thought as she moved to her seat. The two filled the cauldron with the leftovers, set on the ground at the other end of the table.

"Your dad headed out a bit ago, to–"

"We know," Farkle grunted, as he and Fergus moved the full cauldron closer to the fireplace. "We heard her last night."

Fiona blinked at her sons. "Right," she replied simply. She rested her chin on her hands, and let herself stare off out the front window.

She had forgiven Shrek. There wasn't any part of her that hadn't. What refused to let her be, however, was that the kids knew now, and how they found out. Mostly because the choice to keep it from them was half hers. Not that the event itself was her fault, but she couldn't help but blame herself for how this had panned out, even just a little. The chilling reality that Rumplestiltskin was still out there, and her children had crossed his path through some insane stroke of bad luck, wasn't very helpful, either.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been staring before the kettle's whistle reclaimed her attention. Fergus slipped on a mitt and removed it from the fire, filling Fiona's mug followed by his and Farkle's, before setting it on its iron trivet in the center of the table. Farkle in turn hoisted the cauldron over the fire, and began turning over its contents with a large spoon.

Fergus took his seat beside his mother. Fiona could feel the anxiety emanating off of him, unsuccessfully masked.

"Mom," he began, his tone unconvincingly casual, "Can we, uh… talk about–"

"Yes, of course," Fiona said, saving him from having to say any more. She looked back at Farkle, who met her eye. "Of course."


Shrek lightened his footsteps as he moved further into the forest toward his destination. The sky was shifting into deep pink and orange.

He finally reached the small clearing he sought, and the dilapidated structure that stood below two tall trees. The kids' old clubhouse, that he'd built it with them… Grimm, over a decade ago now. While it was now little more than a collection of uneven termite-eaten planks, rusty nails, and grimy rope to anyone who didn't know what they were looking at, it remained a little landmark of sorts in the forest. The roof had been the first part to fall victim to weather and neglect, as they grew older and it saw less use. The front wall, along with the door, had been the next casualty. The back wall and parts of the sides still stood upright, despite the wood rot. It might have become another creature's dwelling at some point, but the smell kept any squatters away.

Its unintentional open-concept layout allowed him to see his sleeping daughter within, huddled under her blanket facing the back wall.

Shrek's chest released the anxiety he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge he'd been holding - in the event Felicia hadn't been where he thought she'd be. His next stop would've been Renna's house, of course, but after that… well, he was just glad she was here.

He moved closer to the structure, his long shadow from the just-emerging sun falling over Felicia as he remained a few meters away. She didn't stir. As he set foot in front of where the house's front wall once stood, he accidentally trod on a loose plank, and it squeaked. Felicia stirred under her blanket as she groaned into semi-wakefulness.

Felicia rolled onto her back and blinked up at the sky through the little hut's open roof, then hazily looked further aside. She jolted in agitated shock, now fully awake, and scrambled to sit as far against the back wall as she could get.

"Get out." She pulled the blanket more tightly around her. She didn't raise her eyes to meet him.

Shrek reached into the rough burlap bag that hung off his shoulder. "Did ye want yer coat?" He held out the folded garment to her. "A bit warmer than that blanket."

"No." She didn't move, willing herself not to pull the blanket tighter.

"...Okay," Shrek replied gently, placing the coat on the floor beside his foot. "I'll leave it here if ye want it."

"Go. Away." The repetition shot from her lips like an arrow from a quiver.

"Okay," he replied again. He reached back into his bag, and withdrew a pack of leftovers and a spoon. "Managed to snag the one with all yer favorites in it. Wasn't able to heat it up, but they're just as good cold."

Felicia's gaze bore holes into a knot in a wood plank across from her. She hoped the blanket over her would obscure her increasingly irregular breathing long enough to get her father far, far away from her; on the contrary, each little shudder rippled through the fabric.

Shrek's ears lowered slightly. He set down what he held beside the coat. He didn't want to leave, but he wasn't about to insist his presence on someone who had no interest in it.

"I'll let ye have some space." He took a step backward, and slowly turned around to start his walk back home, alone.

Shrek hadn't gotten many steps from the shack when he heard a sniff from the clubhouse behind him.

He stopped and looked back toward the structure, at Felicia hugging her knees, scowling at the same knot in the wall. She roughly wiped her eyes with the blanket she clutched tightly around her. She looked up at her father across the clearing, before lowering her gaze again.

The sound of his daughter crying - because of him - hadn't been the Christmas present he wanted, but it also wasn't completely undeserved.

Shrek made his way back to the threshold, but Felicia didn't look back up at him as his shadow covered her.

"I thought you were going away," she muttered.

Shrek shrugged slightly. "Decided not to."

"Oh now you don't want to," Felicia sneered.

Shrek blinked, his eyes closing a bit longer than normal. However well he knew his daughter, he'd been dropped in the middle of a completely new minefield.

"You sure liked being home last night," she scoffed.

"Ye left in the middle of the night!" he lobbed back.

"So you did hear me," she muttered.

"Well, yah… but I didn't wanna make it worse."

Felicia didn't say anything. She kept her eyes firmly on the knot in the plank.

"I knew ye'd be all right," Shrek continued. "Ye did pretty good fer three months, after all."

Felicia pulled the blanket tighter, and wiped her nose. "…How'd you know where I'd be?"

Her father shrugged slightly. "Had a hunch. If not here, I'da checked Renna's. But I didn't think ye'd bother her mother so late. 'N on Christmas Eve."

Another silence.

"It was also way farther," Felicia mumbled. "And I was tired."

"Mm, I'd imagine so," Shrek replied honestly.

A shiver jolted through Felicia, rudely reminding her she was out in the cold in her pajamas on a very early Christmas morning. Her eyes fell on the folded garment by Shrek's foot.

"Can I have my coat?" she asked, her voice small. She met her father's eyes shortly again, before looking back down at it.

"Mhm," Shrek agreed. He stepped back into the hut, ducking slightly out of reflex despite no doorway or roof remaining. He picked it up and handed it to her. "Good idea–"

"And the food?" The slightest exhale of air left her nose, but her mouth didn't agree to any kind of smile.

Shrek managed the grin he felt coming. "If ye let me have a bite."

Felicia's eyes went from the pack to Shrek as she put her arm through the last sleeve. "Fine."

Shrek handed her the food and spoon, which she nearly snatched out of his hands. He lifted the satchel strap off his shoulder, and dropped it by the door. "Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Felicia paused her inhalation of the food, but didn't look up from it. She shrugged quickly, and resumed her activity.

Shrek sat against the same wall, beside his daughter's shoulder. If she didn't want him that close, she'd have no problem telling him so.

But she didn't, so he stayed.


"You three were…" Fiona began, feeling her sons' eyes on her as she set down her utensils. She paused, still beside herself that this conversation was even happening. "You three were never supposed to know about this."

"Clearly," Farkle replied flatly. "But… we do now. So."

Fiona found a cynical smirk on her lips from her son's bluntness. "You do. And it shouldn't have happened like this. Your dad and I just agreed that it was… too much. That it didn't have anything to do with you, because everything worked out in the end."

She wasn't going to burden her children with everything she and Shrek had to do in the aftermath - that was the part that truly had nothing to do with them. But… perhaps her daughter had a point: something that threw their existence into question did concern them, regardless of its outcome.

"That was… not the best decision, we know now," Fiona continued. "But… we just wanted to save you from all of that–"

"Mom I'm–" Fergus jutted in, "I should've recognized him, if I had then none of this would've–"

"Honey no," Fiona quickly stopped him, shaking her head. "It's not your fault." She took a breath. At the back of her mind, yes, she would have loved it if any of her children had retained enough of their lessons to have recognized Rumplestiltskin and avoided him entirely. But she and Shrek should have been firmer on taking the lessons seriously. They hadn't, because they didn't want the kids asking why they were so insistent… and not having to think about it at all was nice. While it lasted, at least.

She supposed they hadn't really protected the three from it after all, by not equipping them with crucial information when they ventured out on their own. A villain left alive was always a risk, as they had learned many years ago, no matter how long dormant.

Fiona continued. "I'm not sure how we even could have told you, without–" she gestured with a hand vaguely, "this happening. The whole thing just began to fade, as the years went by. But then… last night, when–"

"Fel went and ran her mouth," Farkle interrupted.

Fiona held up a hand, but just as soon lowered it in resignation. "Maybe she did. But… it's important that we know about this. Now that you've encountered him. Rumplestiltskin is very–"

"But what happened?" Fergus asked. "Back then, to where Dad… wanted us gone–"

"He did not want you gone," Fiona corrected firmly. "He didn't want any of us gone. Rumplest–"

"You don't have to defend him if you don't want to." Farkle blinked at Fiona, seemingly just as surprised at what he'd said as were the two ogres across from him.

Fiona too blinked at his words, as Farkle averted his gaze again. "I'm not," she clarified. "Believe me. But, I am saying what I know is true: he had no idea what Rumplestiltskin would truly do with that contract he signed. Rumplestiltskin is clever, evil… he talks in circles, half-truths, omissions… gets you confused, comfortable, agitated, drunk… anything to get you to sign."

"Okay," Fergus said. "So how did he even get the chance to trick Dad?"

"It was… a lot of little things," she sighed. "Your dad was… stressed at the time. I was too. We were new parents, with three little babies… it was just… hard, is all," she conceded. "Having kids is hard. Being married is hard. Being famous, and royal is hard… famous royal ogres, no less. We were tired, so we argued more… your grandmother was still training Artie and couldn't visit often… not to mention all the media attention on us back then. It was just… a lot. He was primed for Stiltskin to toy with." Fiona steepled her fingers against her face.


"I… it was all so new fer me," Shrek sighed, shaking his head slightly.

He and Felicia had sat in silence for a small while after the leftovers had been consumed. He'd soon felt her eyes on him, silently requesting he begin to explain himself. If she could understand, maybe he'd be able to save Christmas, after all.

"Goin' from a solitary ogre, doin' whatever I pleased… to havin' a wife, friends, kids, bein' a public figure, all in a couple'a years? Overnight, it felt like. Havin' no worries, no obligations, no schedule… to havin' all that, 'n them some. I guess it all kinda… caught up to me."

Felicia didn't nod, or look at him. She just sat, arms hugging her knees, listening.

"Doesn't help that, me bein' me, I didn't tell yer mother. Thought I'd get over it. But… I didn't. It just got more and more, 'n by then it felt so big, I couldn't possibly tell her. She was doin' it all with a smile–" he stopped himself, closing his eyes in slight embarrassment. "Or at least, that's what it looked like. Cuz again, me bein' me back then, I didn't think to ask her how she was doin'. All I could think was how mah life was different, how mah days were the same ol' same ol', day in, day out. I… messed up in a lotta ways."

"Mhm," Felicia hummed softly, no inflection of tone. She fiddled with the fraying on her coat sleeve.

Shrek exhaled - he knew he was talking a lot, perhaps too much. But that's how he'd worked to remedy everything the first time, so he wasn't about to change tactics.

"So… we get to yer first birthday party. I was already in a bad mood, but I was in one'a those most days back then. Before we even get inside, these village idiots shove pitchforks 'n lit torches in mah face, wantin' me to sign 'em. Sayin' I was scary back when I was a real ogre, which ya know, kinda on the nose, that one." He ever so slightly nudged her elbow with his own. "Like I wasn't a 'real ogre' anymore."

Felicia stopped fiddling, and sat very still.

Grimm.

Luckily, her father didn't seem to notice her stiffened posture as he continued.

"Anyways. All the villagers kept demandin' I 'do the roar,' like some circus freak, when all I was tryin' to do was celebrate yer birthdays. 'N then I did roar, like an ogre. But they all just cheered, like it was some party trick." His hand flicked dismissively as his wrist rested on his knee. He shook his head. "I was so angry… I smashed yer cake, 'n stormed outta the back door. I… didn't see yer three faces after I did that." His voice lowered slightly. "Fer awhile I was glad I didn't, but now… maybe I shoulda. I deserved to see 'em." He cleared his throat." Yer mother was hot on mah heels. We exchanged some, uh… loud words. It came out all wrong… I was rantin' on about wantin' to be a real ogre again–" he cleared his throat to do his best impression of his pigheaded younger self, "–'when I could do what I wanted, when I want to do it! Back when the world made sense!' I didn't fully realize what I was sayin', but I don't think I much cared."

Felicia's head ever so slightly shifted in Shrek's direction, to which he paused if she had something to say.

"So," she began after a moment, "…you were leaving something out last night, when you said about the party."

Shrek blinked at his daughter's observation. He nodded his head in rueful confirmation. "Ye can see why I did now, I s'pose."

Felicia said nothing in response, but turned her head back fully forward, and resumed her sleeve fiddling.

Shrek took a breath, and continued. "Yer mother tried reasonin' with me, remindin' me of what I had - her, you three, everythin'. 'N ye know what I said in response?"

He glanced back at Felicia. Her blank face beckoned his conclusion. "Nothin'. She walked back into the party, 'n I… walked away."

Felicia hoped her face wasn't betraying what was running through her head at the moment - spitting insults at Fergus, at how pathetic he was for just wanting to do what their mother had asked of them. She didn't like thinking about that night… probably just as much as her dad didn't like thinking about this.


"At least that's how he told me it happened," Fiona said. "Our argument, that first 'bad' version of the party, I don't remember any of it… because it didn't happen, technically. He got to redo everything."

Farkle and Fergus's brows creased, their chewing slowed as they attempted to process this unbelievable piece of information.

"Nothing that happened in the universe your dad went to after he signed the contract was real, once he voided it," Fiona continued. "No one - not me, Uncle Puss, Uncle Donkey, anyone - actually experienced any of it. Just your dad. Well… and Stiltskin." She scoffed lightly.

"When we got the photos back from the party, I did notice he looked a bit… testy in the ones taken before he roared. Not sure I'd have even noticed if he hadn't told me, honestly. I… burned those ones. I wish I hadn't, looking back, but I couldn't bear to look at them at the time."

"And that's… when he ran into Rumplestiltskin?" Farkle prompted.

"So I've been told," Fiona nodded. "When your father… walked off, he ran into Stiltskin somehow, and that's how Stiltskin offered him the contract. He said your dad could get a single day to be a carefree, terrifying ogre again, in exchange for a day from his past… that being the day he was born, not that Stiltskin said that, of course. And your dad accepted."

"So Dad signed it," Farkle confirmed. "And then…?"

"And then he got dropped in an alternate universe, where - again, unbeknownst to him - he'd never been born, and ogres were still feared, hunted even… by Stiltskin. Because…"

Fiona trailed off, her voice catching in her throat - she had somehow failed to remind herself of how Stiltskin had achieved his position to hunt ogres. She faltered as that universe's status quo reared its ugly head back to her. "Because, um…" The sting behind her eyes grew.

"What?" Farkle asked, curious and oblivious. "How did Stiltskin–"

"Um–" Fergus stuttered, staring daggers at him. "We can uh– take a break, Mom, if you wanna–"

"No no, it's– it's fine." Fiona took a deep breath, centering herself as the moment passed. "I just… forgot this part." She chuckled lightly to ease her sons' concerned expressions. She took a sip of her tea, bitter and long gone cold.

"Your grandparents had sought out Stiltskin themselves, for a deal. Since… well, since no one had succeeded in rescuing me, they were willing to sign away the kingdom to get me back. So Stiltskin drew them up a contract of their own… all their problems disappeared, which meant they disappeared, and Stiltskin became king."

The boys stared at her, stunned.

"It just so happened that, in the real world, the news that I had been rescued is what stopped them from putting pen to parchment on that very contract. Which is why Stiltskin hated your father - he'd been the one to rescue me, and ruin Stiltskin's plan that had been so close to succeeding." She picked up the kettle, refreshing her mug with hot water.

"Wait, so–" Fergus inserted, putting the pieces together, "Stiltskin was actively after Dad?" He looked across at Farkle, eyes wide.

Fiona nodded. "Stiltskin exploits your weaknesses."

That was… quite different from their father being so intent on being rid of his family, as Stiltskin had portrayed to them. All of them had been tricked, it seemed.

"So," Farkle looked at Fiona, "Where were you in this whole, ya know, alternate universe? Dad just had to rescue you again? Or–"

"I escaped from the tower myself. At least that's what your father told me." Having experienced nothing in this world herself, those words in particular felt especially foreign to Fiona; it wasn't her. But for the sake of simplicity for her children, she'd accept the association. "Which was good, because I'd have been a sitting duck for Stiltskin's witches - I was his last remaining threat to the throne, not to mention that taking me out of the equation would make your father's exit clause impossible to fulfill."

"Exit clause?" Fergus asked.

Fiona blinked - she had to keep reminding herself her children knew absolutely nothing about this entire ordeal; things that were second nature to her were completely foreign to them.

"True Love's Kiss was the exit clause to your father's contract. Meaning, he had to find me, get me to fall in love with him, and get me to kiss him before his day was up."

The boys looked at each other across the table as everything slowly sank in.

"Doing so was difficult, to say the least, in that universe. All ogres were hunted after Stiltskin took over Far Far Away, including - especially - me. He had me on wanted posters. In that universe, I organized and led an ogre resistance army, working to take down Stiltskin." She couldn't help but speak with a glint of pride in her voice; what few positives this whole escapade contained, she'd gladly take.

"...That's frickin' sick, Mom." Farkle breathed, looking at Fiona in awe. Fergus too looked at her in wonder.

Her face broke into a grin, a much-needed relief. "Thank you, honey."


"Even Donkey in that universe didn't like me," Shrek continued. "Maybe cuz I'm not a great singer."

"Valid," Felicia mumbled with a tinge of sarcasm, not unnoticed by Shrek.

"So then I… I um…" Shrek trailed off, as he remembered what happened next. He didn't resume speaking, as he wasn't exactly sure how.

"What?" Felicia asked simply, looking up at him.

Shrek blinked, knowing he had to keep going. "I… realized I still had Sir Squeakles in mah pocket. I'd taken it from ye at the party, cuz I thought you were bein' annoyin'. 'N it made me realize how… wrong I was about that. What I'd done. To you, yer brothers… yer mother." His eyes were firmly on his knees in front of him; he couldn't risk looking at his daughter right now.

Felicia could only look at her father. She thought she may have seen his eyes grow shinier than normal, despite his best efforts of keeping his head down. Her stomach clenched.

Shrek set his mouth firmly, taking an inhale through his nose and swallowing the remnants of whatever had tried to get out of him. "So yah, Donkey came back, fer… whatever reason Donkey ever does anythin'." Shrek forced a chuckle. "He helped find the contract's exit clause. He even helped me find yer mother - unintentionally, mind ye - by fallin' fer the most obvious trap ever: waffles."

"Sound about right," Felicia remarked with muted amusement.

"He fell down the uh– waffle hole, which led us to the whole ogre army, that yer mother led - that she founded." Shrek let a grin slowly find its way onto his face, looking down briefly as he considered his wife - the wife he hadn't appreciated nearly twenty years ago, who'd somehow allowed him the chance to make it up to her, which he put everything he had into doing every day since.

"...Dad!" Felicia repeated, nudging his shoulder.

Shrek blinked, realizing he'd been lost in thought. "Hm?"

"You said Mom led an ogre army!?"

Shrek blinked again, processing his daughter's shift in mood that he wouldn't waste.

"Aye, that she did! Though–" he glanced out toward the sun, now rising higher into the sky signaling the passing of midmorning, "Yer mother might go to war with our behinds today if we aren't home fer lunch, on Christmas Day no less." He looked back at Felicia. "What d'ye say… we head home?"

Felicia's eyes darted away as her face flushed slightly, in no small part due to how the previous night had transpired.

"Hey," he dipped his head in an attempt to meet her eyes, "if I can show mah face to you after what happened last night, you can face yer mother 'n brothers."

"...Pretty gutsy of you to show up this morning, honestly," Felicia muttered with a self-aware smirk.

"Paid off though, hm?" Shrek offered. He let out an exhale of both amusement and effort as he pushed himself to his feet. "C'mon." He offered Felicia a hand up - she looked at it a moment, before pushing herself up without it, quick and effortless in comparison. He picked up the satchel and put it back over his shoulder while she did so.

The two stood for a moment, their legs readjusting. They looked at each other, straight-on for a change after sitting shoulder to shoulder for so long.

Shrek clasped his arms around his daughter as she fell into his chest. "Fel– I'm so sorry," he said, kissing the top of her head. She returned his embrace as much as she could. "If I'da known what he–"

"I know," Felicia replied, nodding, her voice muffled. "I know." She sniffled against his tunic.

Shrek was glad she hadn't said It's okay, because, well… it wasn't. It was okay if it wasn't okay with her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He couldn't say for sure. All he really cared about right now was that his daughter was hugging him back.

"I'm sorry," Felicia began her own stuttered apology, looking up at her father. "All the stuff I said last night, I didn't– I didn't mean–" She shook her head, and looked away again.

"Shhhh," Shrek hugged her back into him, and she didn't resist. "Who could really blame ye, with what ye heard. I'd do the same - with even less evidence, heh."

"You have done it with less evidence," Felicia snorted her amusement. Shrek squeezed her tighter, chuckling his agreement.

She wiped her face on his shirt, and looked back up at him. "It's clear where I get it from, at least." She offered a smirk.

"Mm," he replied simply, "Yer mother."

Felicia paused a split-second, before the joke hit her thoroughly frayed mind. She chuckled slightly, as did her father.

The two stepped out of the clubhouse ruins, out into the bright sun that shone down on the chilly morning.

"Merry Christmas, huh Dad?" Felicia offered him, her tone dripping in good-humored sarcasm.

"Aye, one fer the books, this one," he replied. He squeezed her shoulder, and followed her deliberate strides back home.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Alexa play "Empty Nest" by Silversun Pickups

It's so interesting imagining what specifically happened post-Forever After - to Stiltskin, the family, and the universe at large.

Thank you for reading!

Big beta thanks as always to hanny spoon! And to all my readers. Reviews are always much appreciated if you're so inclined :)