[center][i]*~*Collaboration between YoshiSkittlez and Ghost Shadow*~*[/i][/center]

Nick, (or Mark as he decided to keep calling himself for convenience's sake) bustled around his house in a slightly hurried manner; Mark Dufresne never had children, and as such, he had to try and make his home as kid-friendly as possible. After first changing into an outfit that made him look slightly less than a navvy, he got to work organizing the somewhat bland spare bedroom he kept (even though no one ever visited him). 

Finally stopping after his constant moving this-way-and-that, Mark took a moment to scratch his head before looking down at his son, a slightly sad smile on his face. "Sorry it isn't very vibrant, yet. Tomorrow I'll try and get you some posters or toys or....something." He put in a slightly awkward voice, still trying to come to terms with the fact that, in the boy's eyes, he was nothing more than a complete stranger who claimed to be his father. 

Mason, who had been seated on Mark's couch upon arrival while the man went about cleaning the rather modest-looking house just blinked at the fireman when he had approached.

"It's okay Mr. Do- uh, Duhfress- Mr. D. I have toys back in my room at home." He said simply letting his bright brown eyes then wander to the bare minimal decorations around the fireman's home. "Mom just bought me a new spy kit, I was wanting to play with it tonight but I guess I can do that tomorrow once I get back home."

Mark couldn't help but look down at his son with saddened eyes - how could he make Mason remember? 

"You can call me 'Dad', you know." He said kindly, smiling hollowly in an attempt to defuse any awkwardness, though part of him knew that wasn't possible. 

"Why?" Mason asked, a lack of emotion in his voice as he continued to stare at the blank wall in front of him. "You're not my dad..." He blew out a small breath of air from his nose. "...I never had one..."

To say that Mason was affected by the events that had happened on Regina's porch earlier that day had would be an understatement. It had taken Robert nearly an hour to try and calm the boy down enough to be taken to Nick, and since then he hadn't spoken a word until just a few moments ago. Not even Grip, Nick Chopper's German Shephard who had been trying the best part of twenty minutes to nudge the boy with his nose wherever he could reach couldn't pull the boy from the quiet reverie he had slipped into. Mason lifted his gaze from the wall and back to the firefighter, his eyes changing from empty to angry in the blink of an eye.

"Why were you trying to hurt my mom? What did she ever do to you? I want my mom!"

Mark remained silent for a good amount of time, weighing out what would be the best thing to say: how could you convince a child you're his father when he doesn't even think he had one? 

In an instant, Mason seemed to become emotional...angry, as if Mark was some villain who 'stole' the boy from his mother. A pang of pain seemed to go through him; after all this time, so many years he had found his son again, and yet, it was as though he was still lost. 

"Mason..." Mark began in a comforting tone, crouching down by the couch. "Mayor Mills....Regina [i]isn't[/i] your mother. Your [i]real[/i] mother was named Catherine, and she died when you were just a lad." Mark tried to explain empathetically, though the words pained him coming out, harsh memories replaying themselves in his mind. Reaching out a hand, he attempted to stroke some stray har out of his son's face; a gesture he had repeated dozens of times before back in Oz.

Mason recoiled back quickly as if Mark's hand were a snake. He jumped up from the couch and took a few steps away, his brown eyes wet from the tears that threatened to fall.

"[i]She is [b]too[/b] my mother! You don't know anything about her![/i]" He shouted, his hands balling up into tight fists. "She may have not given birth to me, but she took me in and gave me a home which is more than I can say for anyone else here. She [i]loves[/i] me, and I promised to protect her. [i]Please[/i]," The tears began to stream down the boys cheeks. "Take me to my mom."

Mark stood up slowly, his face a mixture of empathy and hurt at the same time. "I'm sorry, Son." Was all he managed to say at first, appearing to almost age before his son's eyes, years of guilt and sorrow weighing down on him. 

"I wish I could give you what you want, Mason, but I can't." He added; finally realizing that no matter what lengths he went to, the boy would still hate him. 

"You're no father." Mason shook his head no angrily, though his voice kept calm. "And even if you were my papa I'd choose Regina. I'll always choose Regina!" Mason stormed past Mark and made his way down the hall, picking a room at random to hide in (which turned out to be Nick's spare bedroom anyway) and slammed the door shut. Muffled sobs could be heard the moment the door was shut followed by a very quick shout of anger and a small 'thud' indicating that something small had either hit the wall, or the floor.

Letting his eyes follow Mason before the boy disappeared in the spare room, Mark chose to merely take a seat in an armchair, letting his son have time to grieve. 

Sighing deeply, Mark looked up at the ceiling, letting a few shaky breaths pass, trying to formulate words in his mind. 

"I need you, Catherine....now more than ever." Was all he said, letting his eyes now look out in front of him once again. Back home, it seemed that anytime Mason was sad, hurt, or angry, a few comforting words from his wife was all the lad needed - but she was gone, and Mark had no choice but to face this new ordeal alone.