A/N: I'm so glad that we're getting into this part of the story, now. Somehow, when planning it out, it kinda seemed like I would never reach this point but it's been loads of fun, already! I know the last chapter's surprise was probably a shock, but this part of her and Neal's relationship needs to be sorted out if she wants to get closure – especially for Henry! And as you lovely reviewers pointed out, it gives Killian an opportunity to truly be there for her as he always is on the show.

Did y'all see the news? Everybody's coming back for the series finale! YAY. I can always use more of the OG's, haha. And for those of you who don't know, Jen is going to be in a reboot of Superfly this summer. She's playing a detective so I'm super curious. The trailer looks amaaaazing.

She should have just called him. Emma knew that. But if she was going to spend her birthday with Neal of all people, then surely she couldn't be blamed for sending a cursory, admittedly cold text with a time and the name of their go-to diner. She called her parents, telling them what had happened and asking them to push their meal to that evening, at their house. At least they wouldn't be out in the open if she got into a fight with Neal. And if Henry didn't want to see him, Neal wouldn't be showing up at her apartment again in search of him.

For a moment, she wondered how he'd known where she was, but she could only presume that his father had given Neal the address.

So as Henry went to get dressed, Emma and Killian worked to clean up the dishes and the kitchen counters. She realized about halfway through Killian drying a plate that she was being clingy. It was drawn, she knew, from a desire to assure him that she wouldn't come out of lunch having changed her mind about him, or about Neal. Henry had been right, of course. Neal hadn't bothered, with either of them. And as much as she didn't enjoy reliving that conversation in the car on the way to pick up Killian from work months earlier, she could obviously admit that her son made excellent points.

She reached out, taking the plate from him and setting it back on the drying rack. Killian lifted an eyebrow at her, but she just took his hands, pulling his arms around her waist so she could press her cheek against his chest.

"You'll be okay, lass. And Henry's strong. It'll work out."

Emma shrugged, but leaned back to look up at him. "I mean, I hope so. But you know we're good, right? You and me? It doesn't matter what he says, it really doesn't."

Killian's gaze searched her face, his silence making her nervous. It was all she could do not to push him, but she knew that if he decided it was too much, she would find a way to go back to her old self. It was the sort of thing that she knew would worry people, because she so often found it easier to shut down than to show and express her hurt.

"Emma," he said finally, tone reluctant and unsure. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. "I don't know if I should say this, really, but I- I hope you know that I intend to be there for you and Henry, regardless of what happens with Neal."

"I know," she agreed, nodding gently. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Killian. Truly."

He leaned forward to kiss her, but it was strictly appropriate, and he pulled away to brush a hand over her cheek. "We'll meet you back at your parents' if Henry wants to leave before you're done. Okay?"

She nodded, stepping away to wash the last dish. "You guys should head out. Can you go get him?"

"Of course, love."

Soon after, she was hugging Henry a little too tightly, kissing the top of his head before bidding her boys goodbye and telling them to drive safely. She would leave in ten minutes, she'd decided, which gave her time to stress and then calm herself down again. But this time she slid on that red leather jacket she felt so safe in, which made her feel more in control somehow.

And then she made her way to the diner, walking in precisely when she said she would to make sure she didn't seem eager, but rather just too polite to be late. Casting her eyes around, she caught sight of Killian and Henry drinking hot cocoa, and though she couldn't see Killian's face to know why, her son was actually smiling. It did something funny to her heart, which clenched without warning.

But then she saw someone stand up to her left. Neal.

Emma lifted her chin a little, ignoring the fact that she saw Henry suddenly pay more attention, watching her. It was lucky Neal's back was to them, otherwise he probably would've caught on. She walked over, making sure to sit on the side facing them just in case.

"Thanks for agreeing to do this," he began. "Happy birthday, by the way."

She nodded, looking over towards the counter, behind which Granny Lucas was bustling about, casting curious glances at her granddaughter's best friend and the stranger she'd chosen to dine with.

"Yeah, well. I owe it to my family," she told him. "And to myself."

He frowned, but seemingly knew better than to come out swinging with some long-winded explanation. Emma nearly wanted to appreciate that choice. Instead, she just pushed the menu towards the edge of the table a silent signal to the waitstaff she'd come to know so well, and kept on.

"I don't understand, Neal. Why now? Why, after ten years, do you suddenly want to be involved? You stopped writing, you said you'd come back and visit, but you never did."

In truth, she was proud of herself for sounding so strong and put-together despite the roaring anger and hurt flooding through her veins.

He lifted one shoulder apologetically. "After a while I got... caught up, with work. And when I took longer and longer to send you letters back, I thought you'd be angry."

"... Angry," she repeated blankly. But then her frustration slipped through, kicking her temper (visibly, at any rate) up a notch. "Angry? You know what makes me angry, Neal? That your own son knows you couldn't be bothered. That you thought being delayed was worse than hearing nothing at all. That now that I finally have something good you decide it's time to show up and ruin it. What's wrong with you?"

"Something good? You mean that guy you're living with?"

"He doesn't live with me," she told him firmly. "But you should be thanking him. He's been incredible with the son you left behind. The one you couldn't spare time to meet. I understand wanting the career of your dreams and all, but it's one thing to be gone part of the year and another entirely to vanish, leaving promises that turn out to mean nothing. You didn't just break my heart, Neal. You broke his, too."

He had the courtesy to look ashamed, but there was still something angry in his eyes. Emma recognized it for what it was: bitterness. She'd caught countless people who thought they'd managed to get what they wanted, only to be proven wrong. Men and women who figured an apology made things right when really that wasn't always enough. Not for something like this, certainly.

It was then, almost mercifully, that the server came over to take their order. Foregoing food, of course, she also went for a hot chocolate (with cinnamon) and waited for Neal to order before giving the waitress a solid attempt at a smile.

"I want to see him," he told her again.

"Yeah? I told him that and he said he doesn't want to see you. That's not your choice, it's his. In time he might change his mind, but until he's eighteen, I am his legal guardian. His only parent. And until he says he wants to know you, you have no right to demand it of him."

"Don't I? I'm his father!"

Emma's eyes narrowed dangerously as she leaned forward onto the table. "There is a difference between a dad and a father. You may have helped bring him into this world, but that's nothing compared to the work it takes to raise a child."

"And your new guy is so great?" Neal challenged, glaring right back.

"He is, actually. But he isn't low enough to try and replace you. That's Henry's choice as well, not his or mine. And certainly not yours."

He was getting pretty red-faced, now, clearly angry and frustrated. "I have a right to at least see him. To meet him."

"He already said no. I offered, and he panicked, Neal. He's too scared right now. Don't make things worse for him, I mean it. He will never forgive you."

"And how do I know you're not just saying all this to keep me away?"

Emma lifted her hand as their waitress passed by again. "Sorry, could you bring our drinks to-go? He has to leave," she told them, her eyes daring Neal to argue. He apparently knew better.

As Emma watched her walk away, she reminded herself not to let her attention linger on Henry and Killian. Even with the way her temper was flaring, her boys were still there. She didn't look long enough to read her son's face, but she wasn't sure if she liked that he was seeing her like this. She needed to rein herself in, if only for his sake.

"Fine," Neal muttered. "I'll leave. But I'm not letting this go, Emma."

"Don't test me," she warned him. "You'll only ruin the chance of him developing a positive opinion of you."

He scoffed, leaning back in the booth. "Right, because you've made sure he already has a negative one?"

"He knows he doesn't have to share my opinion of you."

Drinks were sat down in front of them, and Emma immediately pulled out her wallet to cover them in hopes of just getting rid of him.

"Bye, Neal," she muttered, snatching her cup and walking over to the bar under the guise of talking to Granny.

"Who's that?" the older woman asked, leaning over the counter as Emma slid onto a barstool.

Emma frowned. "Is he still there?"

Granny's eyes followed something towards the door before she shook her head. Good.

"That's Gold's son. Unfortunately, he's also my ex," she grumbled into the opening on the lip of her cup. She lifted her eyes to Granny's as if to say, Yeah, yeah, I know...

"Well. That's certainly something," Granny mused.

It was then that she realized Henry was climbing onto a chair next to her, Killian coming up between them. "You alright, love?" His eyes shifted to the door, perhaps preparing himself to come up with some excuse for being so near to her with a little boy that looked so like her.

She nodded but looked towards the door, too. Neal didn't seem to be waiting outside, but she didn't want to risk it. "Yeah, for now. He's not giving up, though."

Henry leaned to the side to look at her around Killian, his eyes wide. "I don't want-"

"I know, kid. We'll figure something out. I promise."

"We should go, lass."

Emma nodded, reaching out for Henry's hand. "Go ahead. I'll meet you at their house. I know it's hard, but try and look cheerful when you go out, okay? Just in case. And when we get there, I swear to you we'll sit and talk about it as long as you want. Deal?"

Henry agreed, so as he hopped back down, Killian gestured for the boy to go first. Emma met his gaze for a long moment before Killian gave both her and Granny a polite nod, turning to follow.

To pass the time, brief though it was in actuality, Emma and Granny talked about Ruby's continued interest in that doctor Emma hadn't liked when she met him. But when she glanced at her watch for the tenth time, the elderly woman reached across, stilling the rotation of Emma's hand.

"If he comes around asking questions, I won't tell him anything. Just so you know."

"It's not you I'm worried about," she sighed. "His dad knows everything about everything, doesn't he?"

Granny nodded solemnly. "Just about, yes."

Emma ran a hand through her hair, the gesture an old, lost one from more stressful times. "I just... I can't see a way to keep him away from Henry. If he'd come back at Spring Break, we'd have been out of town. And, I mean, the fact that Killian's even sticking around for any of this is insane."

"Don't knock it," Granny warned. "That man's a good one, even if Gold's son isn't."

"I know."

If she weren't about to head to her parents' to meet them, she might have asked Granny to make an exception and pour her something stronger than hot chocolate. Or, even better, to add something to the drink she already had. But she knew better, and although something like that would not impair her driving, she felt a desperation to stay alert and on top of her game.

"I should go," she decided finally.

The two women bid each other farewell, promising to talk more often, as they hadn't done so of late. And then Emma walked out to her car, waiting for the prickle along her neck or for her hair to stand up on her arm. Neither happened, so she had to hope Neal was long gone, if only for the time being.

Bitterly, she wished he weren't as stubborn about Henry as he was about staying away. But it didn't seem like she was going to see that desire realized, birthday or not.