~Then~
He remembers her cry, but it doesn't sound the same.
Instead of scared and helpless and new, it's a silent reminder (to her, at least) that she does not get good things. (It makes his heart tug, but he cannot deny that this is what she feels) and so he sits on the same step in the loft, inches away, begging himself to reach out and comfort her.
He hears a tiny whimper and his cautious voice is thrown to the wind; his father instinct is rising up like a wave and he can't control it but he doesn't think she'll want it and he should probably get Snow, and -
She leans in to his lips in her hair.
(He melts, and this is where it starts.)
.
.
He races into the Diner with Hook behind, then she touches his cut arm and suddenly he swears he can feel the soft wool of her blanket against his chest once again. (It is a bittersweet reminder that she does not casually touch him as much as she might have.)
She meets his stare and he is glad that she can tell he is not here, not worried about their town's imminent destruction like everyone else.
The concern in her eyes and the question on her lips (you okay?) sends him to sleep that first night on The Jolly Roger.
.
.
They think they're about to die so she calls them Mom and Dad, and he thinks he breathes easier every night afterwards, even in Neverland. (Sure, there is sociopathic demon controlling the island and has his grandson in captivity, but Emma called him Dad.)
.
.
She stares at him and he finally pinpoints what is his on her face - her mouth. (when she is smiling, it is him more than he could ever express.)
(That night, he silently cries into Neverland's hard ground through his sleeping bag when he is sure Snow is asleep.)
.
.
When he hugs her before he leaves for certain death, he feels hesitant arms come up around him in return, and - as weak as they are - they say much more than parting words ever could.
.
.
She knocks on the door, and of course he remembers her, how could he not? his failure to protect her haunts his dreams, and he loses her over and over again every night.
He makes sure to clutch her with twice the fervour, because he knows what she does not, but will soon - and he knows she will not speak the taunting voices inside her head that will whisper betrayal.
She notices her mother's pregnancy and he sees what he feared.
.
.
He failed Emma, and so when the lost girl flitters across her face his heart trips and his eyes close - I'm sorry, Im so sorry -
He wishes he could go back and wrench her from past him's selfish arms. (how dare he abandon her on a whim, when they would have been cursed but together?)
~Now~
The tea is burning his fingers. He does not mind; no one can see him succumb to his weak side in shadows. He fought himself, for goodness sake - and he may have reconciled with the fear of failing his new child, but he knows Emma is too far gone for him to rescue. Dawn threatens the horizon at the window, however, and his family will be around in a few hours - that is when he must pull together and be a (his heart still flutters) Dad. Twice-over, in a few weeks.
His plans to sit and fester are ruined when he hears a pitter-patter against the stairs. They let out a small breath at seeing him, and then he knows who it is. His daughter awkwardly hops from one foot to the other, unsure of how to respond (or debate if she should) to his presence.
Avoidance is not his forte, though, so he speaks up first.
"Tea?"
She blinks, "Um, sure." He turns and prepares the equipment. Feet pad across the room and she sits directly across from where he is standing. (He doesn't think too much about that).
"So, I gather you couldn't sleep either?"
She breathes a small laugh. "Nope. Turns out I'm not quite as unbothered about our nameless enemy as I thought."
A few seconds pass in between them as he contemplates, the clattering of the mugs and spoons filing the air.
"Nightmares, then? I can relate to you there. Don't worry, Emma, we'll win. We always do." He whispers, and he knows the message is entirely redundant (they could be rich people for a penny every time they said it) but this time he mostly wants to reassure himself.
However, as she takes the tea, she looks at him strangely. He watches as her mouth open and closes, struggling for words. Eventually she settles on some and brushes her falling hair behind her ear while keeping her eyes down.
"You want to talk about them?" she breathes, so low he almost doesn't hear. His brow scrunches and her head whips up, a sudden vulnerability in her eyes.
"Your nightmares." she clarifies.
He taps out a soundless beat with his fingers onto his mug, and as he thinks, he notices she is doing the same.
"Its - Its every night, now. The same. The nursery - a dance - the wardrobe. I know it so well, but it still devastates me every time."
It takes a few seconds, but she gets what his dreams concern; her eyes widen and she gulps. He considers pouring out the rest of his tea and dashing back to bed, head in hand, ashamed he'd ever put that kind of pain and guilt on her.
"Its a lot, I know, I'm sorry. I should get back to bed, you should too, actually, I'm-"
"Hey, Dad. Its okay." Her hand reaches out and steadies him.
"Tell me more. I want to hear about this dance - I can't imagine I was any good." He hears the genuine comfort in her voice and he almost faints out of happiness of the spot - who cares about nightmares when reality is so much sweeter?
He takes a breath to start, while noticing she doesn't move her hand.
"Actually, you were a natural. It starts with you - just a baby - crying. I go the nursery, but then I turn and see you as old as you are now, albeit in a elegant dress." Her eyebrows shoot up but she keeps her mouth shut; she doesn't want to interrupt. (and break what they have, here in the dark, where no one can see these two strong people bear their vulnerabilities to each other).
"You tell me how excited you are for an upcoming ball, and I teach you a dance - If you can count teaching as you leading me around. Then, just as I think It will change this night - that maybe it will not end the same way - the lights dim and the wardrobe slams open." He hears her sharp intake of breath.
"Its chaos, you are slipping and I can feel your hands as they clutch mine and I used to be able to see your face as you said don't fail the next one, but recently I can't and somehow that makes it so much worse. I just can't stop reliving it, and I,-" He struggles for breath over the rock in his throat so he stops and looks down into his mug, relieved and unburdened but what will she think?
He just recently turned from David to Dad and he wants to keep that label more than anything in the world, but Parents are supposed to be strong and brave. He is a coward, and he doesn't want to know what she thinks of that. (A hero glancing upon a weak-willed failure.)
There is silence in the apartment for a long time. His head is bowed and he is lost, he wants to go back to bed and never wake up, he wants to wither away where he stands, he wants, he wants-
Her arms circle him with such force they both rock for a moment.
Her voice is muffled against his chest. "You haven't failed me now, Dad, I promise. I may have grown up alone, yes, but that doesn't mean I don't realise how deeply I am loved now." Her breath hitches and a rush of emotion threatens to burst out of him; he unequivocally loves her - but he doesn't think she knows just how much, and probably never will. He will still try to show her for the rest of his life, though, and as they hug in the dark, there is a solidarity that forms.
"Thank you."
The words hang in the comfortable silence, while her head moves to press against his shoulder and their arms still encompass each other.
Eventually he realises that she mentioned she had nightmares too. He wonders if its worth asking, but his curiosity takes the wheel.
"Hey, enough of me. What did you dream about?" He rubs his arm down her back one last time as she untangles herself and steps away, back to her cold tea.
"Now that I think about it, its kind of silly. Yes, the faceless villain is in it, but-" he watches her nervously scratch a spot behind her ear, (he hadn't seen her do that before, but he has seen the pirate doing it - he tucks away the odd feeling that gives him) and breathe a sigh.
"You two and the new baby are centre stage." she sounds so broken and he knew this would happen and he should have talked to her sooner.
She doesn't say anything more; there is no need to. He can guess what happens.
"You okay? If you want to talk about it more, I'm - I'm here."
"Thanks, but not really." she mumbled.
He nods, but he has to let her know.
"Just… Emma, there is going to be someone new for us to take care of, but it doesn't mean that you become irrelevant. Me and your mother love you too much for that."
She replicates his solemn nod, but there is a smile playing at the edge of her lips.
"With this new kid, they'll grow up loved, right? I want them to know much they are loved from the minute they can see." her voice is iron and he agrees wholeheartedly.
"We can make that happen together, Emma."
She blinks, a little startled, though he is not surprised. When he is blunt about his feelings it always does seem to surprise her. (it hurts to guess why.)
"Um, okay. Good." she resolutely replies.
He takes their cold mugs and puts them on the drainboard, hoping Snow will not figure why there are two unwashed cups put there in the middle of the night. (She already worries about Emma so much, but maybe this has helped. He hopes.)
They part with a bleary smile, her hand brushing down his arm in a comforting gesture and him responding in kind.
Maybe she is not too far lost from his reach after all.
.
.
This time, he wakes up calm. Suddenly, disappoint flares in him because last night could have been a dream, and that means she didn't say those things, and neither did he. But, as he stumbles to breakfast, she gives him a sly-eyed sleepy smile to reassure him that it was most definitely real - and how much better they both feel for it.
(He doesn't dream of losing her again, and they both welcome baby Neal with wet eyes and knowing smiles.)