Neal's POV
Neal groaned and opened his eyes. Everything was a blur. He remembered being shot, then Emma, something about Emma... What was it? His memory was fuzzy and he couldn't make out much in the images that ran through his mind, but he saw her crying, a swirl of green, those three words coming out of her mouth...
He shot up, then fell back again, the pain in his chest burning like fire. So sitting was not a good idea.
But he had to get up. He had to figure out where he was, what world, so then he could figure out a way to get back. Emma and Henry were still in Storybrooke. He needed to get to them. It all came flooding back in a rush.
It had been Tamara. All along, Tamara had been betraying him. And he hadn't believed Emma when she told him as much. They found her, working with Greg. And then he was shot. Tamara had opened a portal, hoping to lose the both of them in another land. Neal himself had fallen in. She had tried to hold him up, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. She couldn't lift them both, especially with his dead weight from his injury. She had begged him not to. She had told him she loved him.
He remembered the look in her eyes, the heartbreak. He pushed away any fear of looking into that pain and stared right into her eyes, locking with them for just a moment. "I love you, too." Then he let go.
Everything after that was black.
He tried again to sit up, this time slower. He managed to get himself into a half-way upright position, then took in his surroundings.
He was in a forest, under a tent. A fire crackled a few feet away. He looked down and examined himself. He was bare-chested, the gunshot wound in his chest covered up with bandages. Someone had been taking care of him.
Neal took a deep breath, then paused. The smell in the air, why was it so familiar? He took another deep breath and it clicked. It was the smell of magic. Magic, mixed with certain smells that only came with one land. The scents of flowers and herbs that were exclusive to one place: The Enchanted Forest.
Neal looked around at the place he had once called home. The woods he was in was not one had had ever been familiar with, though after all these years it was doubtful that any of his old hideouts would look the same anyway. Somehow, however, despite all the years, he recognized his home with nothing but a deep breath.
He heard footsteps and voices to his right and tensed up. He watched the area they came from as three people stepped through.
The first was a woman. She had black hair tied back, Asian-looking armor on her body. A wicked-looking sword sat strapped to her hip.
The second was another woman with brown hair and a pretty face. He clear, blue eyes sparkeled with kindness, the train of her dress dragged on the ground.
The third was a man. He wore traditional chainmail armor and had dark brown hair. He had his arm linked through that of the second woman.
Upon seeing Neal was awake, the dark-haired woman unsheathed her sword and pointed it at him. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"
He looked at the sword then at her. "What's the point in saving me if you're going to kill me anyways?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Answer the question."
He sighed. "Neal Cassady. I fell through a portal from another world."
The other woman touched her shoulder. "Mulan, that sounds a lot like what happened to-"
"I know," she said, cutting off her companion. Neal smiled.
"Mulan? Well, who might you two be?" he asked, nodding towards the other two. He wondered if they were popular public domain stories back in the other world as well.
The woman stepped forward. "My name is Aurora. This is Phillip. And, just so you know, Mulan does not mean to be rude, she is just being cautious."
His smiled continued. "No problem. What was that you were saying before about others?"
Aurora looked to her companions for permission. Phillip nodded, encouraging her.
She turned back to Neal. "Not so long ago, two others fell through a portal into this world. They were originally from here, and they wanted to return home, so we helped them."
"Yeah, yeah, but what were their names?" he asked, eager to learn who had been here before him.
She looked taken aback. "Snow White and Emma, her daughter."
Neal's eyebrows rose. "Well, well, well, Emma, we have some stories to exchange," he muttered to himself.
Mulan looked startled. "You know them?"
"Of course," he said. "I knew Emma about eleven years ago, and we had a reunion recently." His face saddened. Thinking about Emma reinforced his thoughts about finding a way of returning to Storybrooke. "About that, actually. I need to get back. Emma needs me. She probably thinks I'm dead. And who knows about Henry." His saddness renewed at the thought of his eleven-year-old son who had just lost his father. It seemed to be a trend in their family, one Neal was hoping to break.
Aurora looked at Phillip, then Mulan, then back to Neal. "Any ideas?"