Ali had been right all those months ago - Storybrooke winters were brutal.
A large snow storm had struck Storybrooke the night before, rendering much of the town immobile. Schools were closed, many of the smaller shops and restaurants weren't open either, which meant their date plans had to be put on hold… until Emma had come up with an idea.
Ice skating in the park.
Neal was beginning to regret agreeing to this.
It was safe - Chief Hood had inspected the lake and continued to do so routinely throughout the day, and honestly, not many people were on there for very long due to the temperature, but even so…
Neal had never been ice skating before. He had never lived anywhere cold enough to, and no one he'd known in the past had ever wanted to skate on the fake rinks that would be set up because it just wasn't the same.
Now that there was a real rink and real snow everywhere, he suddenly didn't feel as confident that this would be as easy as it looked on TV.
But after the chaos of Thanksgiving, and with the chaos of Christmas and Hanukkah gearing up, Neal had agreed to Emma's idea of a skating date.
"Are you ready?" Emma asked, lacing up her skates and holding out her hand. "I won't let you fall, I promise."
Neal double checked his laces and nodded a little. "Yeah… I think so. You're sure this is right?"
"Yep! Your skates are perfect," she said with a giggle, helping him stand. "This is going to be fun!"
"Heh, yeah, it's going to be something," Neal agreed, standing up carefully and following her to the ice.
Neal liked seeing Emma smile. It was worth the dread in the pit of his stomach to see her happy like this.
She took his hands, slowly beginning to skate along the pond with him. Neal felt his legs shaking with each motion they made.
"You're doing great!" Emma giggled some time (and several spills) later. "You seem to be less shaky than you were when we first got here."
His ass wasn't so sure about that, but Neal nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I feel like I could skate in the next Olympics. Here, let's see if I can lift you over my head!"
Emma squeaked, speeding away from him with laughter. "Can't catch me!"
No, he certainly couldn't, and frankly, he hardly tried. His legs and his butt hurt, and when they finally decided to call it quits, Neal was seriously questioning how he was supposed to move in the morning.
"Did you have fun?" Emma asked when they retreated into the local coffee shop to warm up. "I hope I didn't scare you off."
"No, no, of course not. It was… certainly something new, but it didn't scare me away. It'd take more than that to get rid of me," he replied with a wink as he sipped at his coffee. "It's just odd to think that I might be a natural at that if I'd been raised here by my dad."
Emma paused, reaching over to take his hands. "Hey, don't think about that, okay? You're home now. That's all that matters."
Neal smiled, squeezing her smaller hands in his. "I know. Thanks Emma."
"Hey, I know what might cheer you up. Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah. My parents said you're welcome to drop by if you want."
"I'd like that. I've never met anyone that celebrates Hanukkah."
Emma giggled (he'd never get over how much he loved the sound of her giggle). "You lived in New Orleans and never met someone who celebrates?"
"Nope. I know there's a pretty big community there, but no one I really hung around with was Jewish," he said with a shrug.
"This year is just a bunch of firsts for you, isn't it?"
He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess you could say it is. The last few months especially so. I can't say I'm too upset about it though. I met you, after all."
She blushed (and damn, he loved the way she looked when she blushed). "I bet you say that to all the girls."
Neal chuckled again. "Nah, just the pretty ones."
"Neal, come on, I don't know if my face can get any redder."
"Then is it a bad time to ask you something?"
She frowned. "What is it?"
"Emma Nolan, will you be my girlfriend?"
Emma smiled, her face somehow becoming more red. "Neal Gold, I was wondering when you would ask."
That night, he stood in the increasingly-familiar farmhouse, with Emma and her family, Chief Hood-Mills and Mayor Hood-Mills, Roland, Alice, Margot, and Zelena. Learning about the Jewish traditions for Hanukkah was fascinating, and no one looked at him funny as he stumbled over the words to the songs or prayers.
Christmas came and went with little fanfare. Eudora had sent gifts to the entire family, and his father had done the same in return. They had a long Zoom chat, showing off gifts and food and traditions they were eager to share with each other the next year. Alice had taken Margot and Zelena to Seattle to meet Uncle Roger, which had put Neal at ease.
While he was comfortable with his decision to let the citizens of Storybrooke know who he was, he still didn't know if he could stomach his uncle knowing, or worse, his mother and step-father.
If he never saw them again, he would be happy.
But that would mean not seeing Uncle Roger, and Neal wasn't sure if he'd like that. Uncle Roger had always been kind to him (Neal had wondered if Roger had gotten all the kindness in the family, instead of Killian), and it would suck to never see him again.
On the other hand, not seeing Roger meant not seeing Milah and Killian, and Neal, well, he didn't have an issue with that.
He supposed he should have had an issue with it, given Milah and Killian had raised him for most of his life, but knowing the circumstances of everything, knowing he had been stolen away from a loving father in the dead of night made Neal wish nothing but misery on them.
Maybe he needed to speak to Dr. Hopper.
The town's therapist had come to him not long after the ball, introducing himself and telling Neal all sorts of things about trauma and how it could make him feel, well, bitter. Resentful.
And Dr. Hopper, he realized when the New Year began, was absolutely right. He had realized it was another holiday - albeit, not as large as Christmas or Thanksgiving, or even Halloween - that he had missed out on in the place he should have grown up.
He hated feeling that way, so before he could chicken out, Neal booked himself an appointment with Dr. Hopper.
"I'm glad you decided to meet with me, Neal," Archie said as he closed the door to his office behind him. "Unless you prefer to be called Baelfire?"
"Oh - no, Neal's better," he replied. "I mean no offense to my dad, of course, but Neal's more… normal sounding."
Pongo sauntered over to him and plopped down at his feet, and Neal reached out to scratch at his head.
Archie nodded, pen hovering over the notepad. "And how does it make you feel to have a normal name, but an abnormal life?"
"I don't know. I'm happy that I'm here now, that I was able to meet the guys at the station, and Emma, but… it makes me so angry that I missed out on so much time with my dad, and that I missed out on so much time building relationships with the people here."
Archie scribbled something down in the notepad. "I imagine that's very difficult for you to reconcile," he said. "If you could speak to your mother, what would you say to her?"
Neal paused. "I… I don't know. I'm not sure it would be anything good, honestly."
"That's okay. Your feelings toward her are perfectly valid. I think it might be good for you to get your thoughts out on paper though, so I'm going to give you a little homework, if you will."
His nose wrinkled at the thought. "I didn't think I was supposed to get homework in therapy."
Archie chuckled under his breath. "Don't worry, it's not that bad, I promise. I won't even grade it. What I want you to do is write a letter to your mother, and tell her exactly how you feel. Don't worry about censoring anything or downplaying your thoughts. Just write."
"And then what?"
"That's up to you. You can burn it, bury it, throw it away… the point of the exercise is to just get those thoughts out into the world, and to maybe come to grips with everything you've gone through. No matter how young you were when you were kidnapped, it's still a traumatic ordeal, especially as you've grown up and found out the truth."
"Well, yeah, right, of course," Neal agreed, scratching the back of his head. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to his mother, even in letter format, but if Archie thought it would help him, he supposed he would have to think of something. "I don't have to send it?"
"Not if you don't want to, no."
"Well, that's good, considering I don't even know where she is right now." Neal tried to laugh, and Archie cracked a smile, but there was a heaviness in the air regardless.
Writing a letter to a (metaphorical) ghost sounded completely silly, but at least he wouldn't have to show it to Archie, or anyone else.
Truth be told, it was tempting to just ignore Archie's homework, especially since he wouldn't have to read it in their next session, but as he lay in bed unable to sleep, even after he'd been at the station for a twenty-four hour shift, Neal realized it might be time to take care of that homework assignment after all.
Neal took a seat at the desk and took out a piece of paper from a notebook he kept there, clicking a pen a few times for good measure.
Even the very concept of just writing a letter to his mother had his anxiety spiking and his blood pounding in his ears, even though he knew for a fact Milah wouldn't be able to find him - or if she did, there was nothing she could even do without risking her own freedom.
Though, as much as Neal hated to admit it, he really, really wanted his mother to lose her freedom. Why was she able to run around the country after everything she'd done to him, to his father? It wasn't fair - none of it was fair!
His handwriting was frantic, pen pressing too harshly against the paper, and ink smudged against his fingers as his hand raced across the page, not waiting for ink to dry and not caring if his hand got dirty.
And suddenly, all at once, as he set the pen down and wiped his cloudy eyes, he felt all of the adrenaline leave his body, all the pain and anger was left behind on the ink and tear stained paper in front of him.
He let out a shaky breath and stared down at the letter, though he could barely read it now. But Archie said it didn't matter, and with the catharsis Neal felt, he didn't bother dwelling on it.
Instead, he took a deep breath and let exhaustion finally wash over him. Satisfied he got everything out, he rose from his desk, turned off the lamp, and finally laid himself down in bed, falling asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
Dear Mom Milah Mom Momlah,
Archie suggested I write to you in order to get my feelings out about you, and about everything you and Killian did.
I'm angry. I'm so damn angry that you couldn't just divorce Papa and live a normal divorced life. I have a stepmom and a half-brother now, and I missed so much of his life because I didn't know he existed.
Papa kept my nursery just as it was, and he told me about the stuffed animals grandmothers made for me, and how they soothed me when I was sad. I guess Killian was right about me being a cranky baby, huh? Suppose if you were a better mother you would have been smart enough to grab the things that relaxed me.
When I ran to New Orleans, I had no idea how I was going to survive, but then Mama Eudora found me, and showed me parental love. She encouraged me in everything I did, and everything I will do in the future. Eudora loves me - can you say the same, or was I just a pawn for you to hurt Papa?
I know everything. I know you kidnapped me. I know you and Killian are on the run from the law, and if I ever see you again, I'll be the first in line to call the FBI.
Your former son,
Baelfire
Winter was slow to attempt to melt into spring, which was apparently quite normal for Maine, according to everyone he spoke with. Even as February began to draw to a close and the calendar flipped to March, snow still clung to the ground.
That didn't matter though, because they were finally, finally on their way to New Orleans for their long-awaited trip, and, despite his reservations months ago, Neal didn't feel like some sort of outsider or tour guide for a group he didn't belong to. In fact, he had settled in quite nicely with Emma's friends, just as he had with the guys from the firehouse, which was good, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to enjoy his trip to his old home if he wasn't one of the crew.
"I got weather whiplash," Lily groaned as they stepped out of the airport and into the warm spring afternoon of New Orleans. "Why didn't you warn us it'd be this warm, Neal?"
"I did. If I remember correctly, you only gave a thumbs up reaction in the group chat," he countered, waving down a few cabs for them. "You can change when we get to Tiana's Palace - Mama's waiting for us anyway."
In order to save money, Eudora was allowing them to stay at the apartment above the restaurant where she and Tiana lived. Neal had almost turned it down, until the rest of the group had found out Tiana's Palace was right on Bourbon Street, and that Mardi Gras was going to be taking place right when they would be arriving.
"Tiana's Palace, huh?" the cab driver asked as the airport faded in the distance. "Good luck findin' a seat this time of day. And you sure you don't want me to find ya a hotel so you can put your bags down? Things get a little wild 'round here during Mardi Gras."
"Oh, don't worry about us, we're staying with Eudora. I'm her son, Neal."
"Ohh, that's right, you're her adopted son then. She's been tellin' everyone about how you became a firefighter and headed north."
Neal scratched the back of his head while Emma and Roland hid smirks behind their hands. "Yeah, well, she was always bragging about everything Tiana and I did. Good to see some things haven't changed since I've been gone."
The driver chuckled. "If there's one thing that will never change about New Orleans, it's your Mama."
"That's good," Neal said. "I can't imagine Bourbon Street without her."
"Me either," the driver agreed as they pulled up to Tiana's Palace. "Alright, home sweet home. You all be safe now - they're sayin' this is going to be one of the most crowded Mardi Gras we've had in years. Stay in a group and don't go wavin' your money around. And don't accept drinks from strangers."
"We'll be careful, sir. Thanks," Emma said, hopping out of the van, with Roland following.
"Did you know that guy, Neal? He seemed pretty friendly with your mom," Roland questioned as Neal led them through the side entrance, away from the crowd.
"Not personally, but I've seen him around. I think he's a regular here," he explained. "Mama? Tiana? We're here!"
A squeal was the first thing he heard, before Tiana burst out of her bedroom. "Hi you guys! Mama and I are so sorry we couldn't get you from the airport! She's downstairs dealin' with the lunch rush right now and I've been tryin' to get things organized for the parade tonight!"
"Don't worry, we made it just fine," Neal said, pulling her into a hug. "It's good to see you, Tia."
Tiana smiled and looked at the group she'd been unable to meet over Thanksgiving. "And it's so nice to meet the rest of you!"
"Yes, it's so good to have you all staying with us while you're on your trip," Eudora agreed from the doorway. "Sorry I'm late, you wouldn't believe how busy Mardi Gras gets around here."
"We saw while we were pulling in, and it's not even night yet!" Alexandra said, glancing out the window. "It was really cool of you to let us stay here, Ms. d'Orleans."
"Oh it's no trouble at all. Now, boys, you'll be staying in Neal's old bedroom, and girls, you'll be bunking here in the living room, since it's larger than Tiana's room. I don't want any funny business at night, do you understand me?" Eudroa gave them a stare that had Neal both wishing for an interdimensional portal to swallow him whole and almost melted him into the floor.
"We won't do anything, we promise!" Emma swore. "We're just here to explore and have fun since it's our first spring break as college students!"
Eudroa gave Neal a look that said Emma's words had better be the truth, and he gave her a smile as a promise. "I swear, Mama. I've got a whole itinerary written up and everything. I don't wanna make anything awkward." Because this conversation was awkward enough in his opinion.
Eudora looked around the group again, then sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll take your word for it. I brought you all some menus so you can see what we serve downstairs at the restaurant. If you want anything, let Tiana know and she'll get the order to the chefs."
"Wait, really? Thanks Ms. d'Orleans, you're the best!" Dawn squealed. "You've been doing so much for us, are you sure we aren't imposing?"
"Of course not. This is how I always handle having visitors, I promise. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back downstairs."
The group flopped down onto various couches and chairs, staring at the menus Eudora left for them.
"So, what's good here?" Philip asked.
"Everything," Tiana and Neal answered immediately, to eye rolls and sighs from the Storybrooke group.
"No, seriously, the menu was crafted specifically so everything would be good," Neal explained. "But the gumbo is the best seller. It was Tiana's dad's recipe."
Tiana nodded. "You can't go wrong with po'boys either. They're a New Orleans classic!"
"Can't go wrong with a classic. I know what I'm getting then!" Eliza said, dropping the menu back on the table, before she frowned. "What's that sound?"
"Oh, they're early today!" Tiana said, jumping to her feet and opening the balcony door so the jazz music outside became more clear. "There's a jazz quartet that performs across the street every day. One of the best parts of livin' here! They said they'll be part of the parade tonight too."
"Lunch and a show? I'm down for that," Lily grinned, stepping onto the balcony after writing down her order.
The group followed, standing on the balcony and listening to the jazz music and then Neal as he began pointing out places they'd be visiting.
Emma's head rested against his shoulder, and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. As good as it was to be home, it was better that he had her to share it with.
