Chapter 8: The Story Book


"What's this," Neal asked as he picked up the book from the counter in the office as they were leaving, he had seen Emma place it down when they first came in.

"It's a book of fairytales. Mary Margaret gave it to me for the baby."

Neal flipped through some of the pages. He stopped when he saw a young brown haired boy standing against a fence post with a shepherd's stick. Neal turned white and swallowed hard, a look and action that didn't go unnoticed by Emma as they left the room.

She reached out and touched his arm, "Babe, they're just stories. They're not real."

Neal swallowed again. He closed the book, "Yeah Emma about that…"

But before Neal could say anything else Emma stopped when she saw Mary Margaret sitting by the coma patient's bedside at the end of the hall. She wasn't sure what it was about him but the compulsion she had earlier and had waved off suddenly came back in full force.

"Everything okay," Neal asked.

"Yeah. Could you um… could you give me a minute?"

Neal looked at the coma patient and Mary Margaret and then at Emma. She didn't have to explain anything to him.

Neal placed a kiss on Emma's forehead. "Take your time. I'll wait for you outside. We'll stop at Granny's on our way home. Do you think you can leave the book with me?"

Emma smiled, "Sure."

Emma handed the book to him grateful that Neal was giving her the time so she made her way to the coma patient's room. She closed the door after she entered.

"Still no change hu?"

Mary Margaret looked up and weakly smiled at Emma.

"None. I keep thinking that if I'm here long enough that he'll wake up soon and it sounds crazy because I don't even know him but I feel like I do somehow. I know it sounds crazy and makes me sound like a fool."

"Optimistic, not a fool," Emma said with a smile. "After all weren't you the one telling me not too long ago that the possibility of hope is a powerful thing?"

Mary Margaret smiled, "You don't strike me as the optimistic type. No offense."

Emma waved it off. "I'm not usually but for the first time in my life things seem to be looking up so-,"

"You sound like that's a bad thing."

Emma sighed. "Normally it is. I didn't exactly have the best upbringing. I don't know I guess I'm just worried that somehow this is too good to be true and that I'll somehow screw it up."

Emma couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She had only met Mary Margaret yesterday and now she was talking to her as if they had known each other their whole lives.

"So no good role models?"

"None."

"Not even your parents?"

Emma took a deep breath. Though she had just told Mary Margaret a while back that she was an orphan no one knew the truth about her parents except for Neal. He knew her full history and not the Cliffnote's version that she told other people- when they found out she was an orphan she gave no further details but she wanted to tell Mary Margaret the truth, as if knowing would somehow make it better even though there was nothing that could.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to…"

"No it's fine," said Emma. "They're not dead and even if they were I wouldn't know. They abandoned me on the side of the freeway when I was a baby."

"Emma, I'm so sorry."

"Why it's not your fault." Emma's eyes caught hold of something and she was thrust back into her mind. "On the side of the freeway," she whispered.

"What?"

"On the side of the freeway," Emma whispered again, "A few hours away from here. That's not possible. It can't be."

"Emma, what is it?"

"I'm sorry I have to go," Emma said going as fast as she could to get out of the building leaving Mary Margaret to wonder what had just happened.


At the same time while Emma was inside talking with Mary Margaret Neal leaned against the outside wall of the hospital with the book in hand. He sifted through some of the pages and came to a stop when he saw the image that he'd seen earlier. Neal swallowed hard. He hated that his story was in the book. He then skipped a few pages and came to the Snow White story. Near the end was an image of Snow holding a baby with the name 'Emma' embroidered on a blanket. Neal smiled. He had seen this baby blanket before. It was one Emma carried with her any place she went. It was the one thing she had from the place she had come from, the one thing that had made the journey with her.

"Reading up on your history and Miss Swan's I see," Gold said to Neal.

Neal slammed the book closed and held it up. "Was this your doing?"

"What the book?"

"Yes the book. Did you give the book to Mary Margaret so she could give to Emma?"

"My boy I'm good but I'm no writer. How is Miss Swan by the way? I understand she had her first doctor's appointment today."

"So you're spying on me now?"

"You're my son I have no reason to spy but you are standing out here, I assume waiting for her and it is a small town."

Before Neal could comment he heard the door to his right open. Emma walked a bit toward him.

"How did everything go with Mary Margaret and David," Neal asked.

"You were with me in the appointment," Emma said placing a hand on her belly, "David's fine."

Neal shook his head. He hadn't meant the baby and he'd forgotten that Emma didn't know the name of the coma patient in the bed that she had just come from visiting.

"Might I say Miss Swan," said Gold, "You are certainly glowing today."

"Um thanks," Emma said paying attention for the first time that Mr. Gold was there. Her mind was too preoccupied though as she turned her attention back to Neal. "We need to talk."

"Okay let's go to Granny's, we can talk there."

"No not there," said Emma.

"Then where and what about dinner?"

"Take it to go," Emma said harshly.

"What's going on with you," Neal asked suddenly concerned.

"I told you we need to talk and not here, not in Storybrooke."

"Then where?"