A/N: Set right after the farewell service for Neal, Emma is trying to get to grips with everything that had happened. What will the story for her and Henry look like now they are back in Storybrooke, but while Henry is still without his memories? And who is that man in the window?
'Hey kid, you okay?'
It's the evening of the farewell service for Neal and Emma checks up on Henry. They're staying over at her parents' loft, simply because she wants David and Mary-Margaret near after today's events. She had told Henry a slightly twisted version of the truth, namely that she wanted them to stay with their good friends on a sad day like this, and the boy hadn't mind.
She stands in the doorpost to Henry's bedroom - even though he doesn't know it's his - and observes the boy. Her son who has just lost his dad.
Henry's standing in front of his bedroom window and looks outside, with his back towards Emma.
From her vantage point, she can't see much of the view, but even without looking, she knows what her son's looking at. The shops and houses of Storybrooke. Quiet streets with only a few cars driving through them. The clocktower, standing proudly behind the other buildings. Its clock ticking like nothing has happened. As if the world continues on, but without them. Without Emma and Henry.
Quietly, she enters the room and puts her hands on her son's shoulders.
The boy turns his head and glances at her without uttering a word.
His desperate expression breaks her heart. The pain that's displayed in his wise, but still so young eyes, reflect the way she feels and then some. She knows that the answer to her question is 'no.' How could he be okay? They had just buried his father.
'Can you tell me about him? Can you tell me about Neal. About... my father?' Henry asks all of a sudden.
Emma swallows away her grief. 'Sure kid. Although I've to say I don't know everything about your dad either.' It's the truth. She wasn't given the chance to talk with Neal properly, to ask him everything she wanted to know about him. About his past life in the Enchanted Forest, about his arrival to her world, about his life in New York City while she was in jail and afterwards, all the way up to the point of their reunion. There are still so many gaps in Neal's story that Emma would love to fill.
'That's okay. Maybe you can just tell me a bit more about how the two of you two met?' Henry tries.
With a heavy heart, Emma agrees, and gently pushes him towards his bed where she lifts the blankets up invitingly.
Henry follows her directions and lays his head on his pillow. His curious eyes are pierced into hers, as if also he is desperate to learn more about his father.
Emma tucks Henry in like she had done only a few times before. It doesn't stop to amaze her how special these little moments are. To be able to tuck her son in at night is something she couldn't have dreamed of when she was younger. She puts her hand on top of Henry's chest and sits down on the side of his bed. 'It's quite an interesting story actually how we met. And it involves the yellow bug...' she begins her story. She tells Henry about how she stole the stolen car with Neal in it and their adventures from then on, all the while holding onto the swan charm necklace firmly.
The boy listens breathlessly to the story of the life his parents had led together before he was born. His eyes as big as saucers, he squints them sometimes to keep himself awake.
When Emma gets to the most difficult part of the story she suddenly stops. She can't tell Henry the truth about this part. Not when he doesn't have his memories back. 'It's getting late. You need to get some sleep,' she whispers. It hurts her not to be able to come clean about everything. Not being able to share the details of his father's heroic deeds with him, all of it is wrong. She wants to tell the full story of how it had been Neal's act to call the cops on her that had set the whole family reunion in motion. That Neal sacrificed himself in the end in order to save her, Henry and the entire town. All of it goes lost to the boy, because he has no memories of the true fairytale-based life he once led. 'What you do have to remember is what I told you earlier, that he was a good man, Henry. Neal died being a savior.'
Henry looks to her in confusion but is too tired to go in against her. A big yawn escapes from him and he closes his eyes.
Emma stays with him for a little while longer and watches his chest go up and down with each breath. His small frame reminds her of his innocence and vulnerability. 'I'm so sorry Henry,' she whispers when she's certain he's asleep. She couldn't prevent his father's death and she couldn't prevent all the other horrible stuff Henry had to go through in the last few months. Her foremost important task as being his mother is to protect him, but until now she had failed miserably. Every time the light at the end of a dark tunnel had been in sight, something else happened that would break everything apart. The thought that had come to her earlier crosses her mind again. The question whether it wouldn't be a better idea for the two of them to move back to New York and pick up their lives there. As long as Henry doesn't have his memories back, it won't change too much for him. And the longer they stay in Storybrooke, the riskier it will become. Especially with Zelena still out there and who knows what other vengeful creatures are waiting to strike. She sighs, because at the same time the thought of Walsh confronts her once again with the harsh reality that she can't run away from magic and all its consequences, however hard she tries.
Vigorously she shakes her head and gets up from the bed. She doubts whether to switch off the lamp on the nightstand, but decides against it and walks over to the window instead. With her hand already grasping the end of the curtain to close it, she stops mid-gesture as her attention gets drawn by one of the houses across the street. The light behind one of the windows on the first floor is switched on and shows a room with dated furniture and decoration. However, the vintage-style decor is not what draws Emma's attention. It's the man sitting in the armchair that had stopped her in her tracks. He's playing guitar, looking at the strings as if he's still learning how to. Emma has never seen this man before. She reckons he's about her age, a few years her senior at most. He has short, brown hair and is wearing a casual grey t-shirt. Even though she has no clue who this mysterious man is, there's something about him that keeps her eyes drawn to him. Who is he? Why hasn't she ever seen him in Storybrooke before?
A rustling sound startles her from her thoughts and she looks back to her son who has just turned onto his other side.
A small smile appears on her lips when she notices he's still fast asleep. She turns back to finally close the curtains and is surprised to see the house on the opposite side of the street to be pitch black, the light behind the window now switched off. Did she only imagine the man playing guitar?
Her parents are waiting for her downstairs, both sitting on the couch in the seating area. They cast her a worried glance, which she decides to ignore.
'Do you guys want a hot cacao as well?' she asks, as she heads over to the kitchen. The hot, sweet beverage is what she craves and as long as she keeps herself busy, she doesn't have to think too much about this week's events.
'I'd love one,' Mary-Margaret replies and David nods in agreement to Emma's question.
Her hands are shaking when she makes their traditional cinnamon hot cocoas.
Within seconds, her mother is by her side. 'Do you need any help?'
Emma dismisses the offer and continues the ritual rather carelessly. With force, she whips around the milk in the saucepan on the stove and takes out three mugs from the cupboard. Snow's still standing next to her at the counter and that fact doesn't help. Emma practically drops the mugs on the counter and raises her hands in protest. 'I got it, okay. I don't need your help, I really don't.'
Snow only nods and gets back to her husband.
From the corner of her eyes, Emma sees how David wraps his arms around his wife and whispers something in her ear - something inaudible to Emma.
The blonde shakes her head and checks how the cocoa powder and sugar blend in with the milk. She stirs the substance another few times and once satisfied with the result, she takes the saucepan off the stove.
The smell of hot cacao fills the loft and brings back memories of better times.
Emma wraps a tea towel around the handle of the saucepan and pours the drinks into the mugs. When she gets to the third mug, the tea towel slips from underneath her fingers and she loses her grip on the pan. 'Shit!' she calls out as the pan drops on the kitchen counter sideways and the hot substance reaches her hand and fingers. It takes up to a second before her nervous system has sent a signal to her brain to register the warning sensation that we all know as pain. It takes Emma another two seconds to reach the sink and open the tap to let the water provide first aid.
Her parents of course had heard and seen the accident happen and this time it's David who makes his way over to Emma to ask if she's okay.
The blonde tries her best to push through the pain, but the cocoa had almost reached boiling point and a lot of it had ended up on her hand. 'It's okay David, I just let some cold water run over it for a bit and I'll be fine.'
'Let me see,' David demands pointing at her hand, clearly less lenient compared to his wife.
For some reason, Emma is also less likely to go in against her father and lifts up her hand from underneath the running tap to show him. Her hand looks fiery red and some blisters already seem to appear on her fingers.
'Right,' David says matter-of-factly, 'keep it under the tap for another twenty minutes, then we're going to have that looked at at the hospital.'
'I'm sure it's nothing, the milk wasn't even boiling,' Emma tries, but she knows taking on her father in discussions like this is a hopeless task. Quickly she puts back her hand underneath the running tap. Perfect. As if her day hadn't sucked enough, a trip to the ER is just what she needs. She sighs and directs her attention to Mary-Margaret who had just joined the little gathering. 'Can you stay here and watch Henry for me please? I don't want him to be alone in case he wakes up.'
'Of course,' the older woman agrees. 'Don't worry about that.'
When father and daughter drive off towards the hospital, a man with a guitar on his back walks past Mr Gold's Pawn Shop and looks inside with a somber expression on his face.
A/N: Hope you liked the first chapter. Please leave a comment before you go.