Hook was up on his feet, striking the cuff with his hook, trying as hard as he could to break the small chain, linking him to a radiator, he lunged forward, and felt an extreme pain in his left leg. He crumpled to the ground.

"Broken." he cursed under his breath and shakily stood up again. He pulled his arm hard and finally, the chain broke free. He grinned and rubbed his wrist.

"Alright, Swan," He mumbled, "it's time for you to be knocked flat on your face for once."


She's coming.

August felt it deep in his bones, well, no longer bones, but wood. He could feel her presence returning.

She left, but now she's coming back. But something's changed.

He tried to move but couldn't. He had to see her. He had spent months, cooped up in this dusty corner of a shop. He remembered running away, when he felt his father coming. He had had so much will power, so much strength, but now, there was nothing, it seemed, to live for. Nothing to try for. He tried to close his now painted eyes, but they wouldn't shut. He felt moisture on his cheeks and realized they were tears.

Amazing, he thought, although my exterior is wooden and painted, and fake, inside, I still feel, I am still...a real boy.

The tears came faster, and August heard himself audibly gasp as he realized, their was something to live for.

Her.


Neal and Emma rode in hurried silence on the 5 minute drive back to the apartment. They parked, ran inside, and carried Rumple to the back seat, Emma holding his feet, and Neal, his head. They loaded him in and Emma called to Henry. "Get in the backseat sweetie. Hold up his head."

"Yes mom." Henry said, caught in the frenzy of what was happening, he forgot he was supposed to be angry, and forgot that he had stopped calling Emma by her ascribed title. He didn't notice his forgetfulness, but Emma did.

She hopped into the driver's side, while Neal looked confused.

"Listen, I'm kind of a bounty hunter, I'm pretty good with clean get aways and speeding through traffic."

Neal shrugged and got into the passenger side.

The drive to the docks was about 20 minutes, but Emma made it 10.

"Ow, Mr. Gold, let go of my wrist, it hurts!" Emma heard Henry cry.

"What are you doing?" She turned around looking at Gold. By the time their eyes met, he had already released Henry, who had scrambled to the other side of the car.

"Eyes on the road!" Neal cried, grabbing the steering wheel, and yanking it towards him, as Emma had gone into the other lane. They both laughed a little bit, remembering their younger days.
Emma felt something warm under her hands, and realized, in her panic, she had clasped the steering wheel, on top of Neal's hands.