Back in New York City, Henry, Emma, Belle, Mr Gold and the Professor had entered the apartment lobby and looked at the list of names of each person who lived there. "No Baelfire," Henry finally said.
"He probably has a new name here." the Professor said. "Everyone else in Storybrooke has one for this world. He probably chose a suitable one for here."
"He could be anyone here," Belle remarked, to which the Professor nodded. "Your magic globe didn't give you an apartment number?" Emma asked.
"It doesn't work that way," Mr Gold said.
"Do any of these names mean anything to you?" Henry asked, who had gone to look at a set of mailboxes.
"Well, names are what I traffic in. But sadly, no."
Emma looked over the name list and then pointed at apartment 407, which had no name beside it. "Here's your boy," Emma stated.
"Well, or it could just be vacant," Mr Gold said.
"You may traffic in names and magic, but I traffic in finding people that don't want to be found. And those folks don't like to advertise their whereabouts," Emma said as she moved her hand to the intercom button, but the Professor stopped her.
"Allow me," the Professor said, as he took out his sonic screwdriver and used it to unlock the door before he walked inside the central part and up the stairs, with everyone following him. They got to apartment 407, and then Mr Gold was going to knock on the door, but Emma stopped him.
"I've got this bit," she said and knocked on the green door. "UPS package for 407," she said, and everything was silent for a moment. Then, they heard a crash, a bang, and a clang.
"Oh no," the Professor said quietly as he realised something. "What is it?" Belle asked.
"Apartments typically have fire escapes. It sounds like he's gone out the window."
"We'll never catch up to him now," Mr Gold said.
"Oh, don't underestimate me, Rumple," the Professor said with a sly smile. He looked around, and once he was sure no one was around, he waved his hand and, in a whirl of blue smoke, poofed them all back to the apartment lobby. Once they were there, they went outside to see a hooded man running down the last few steps of the fire exit and jumping down before running into the crowd.
"That favour you owe me. This is it. Get him to talk to me. I can't run," Mr Gold said, his voice filling with desperation.
"Watch Henry. I'll be back," Emma said, then took off after the man.
Through the streets of New York, Emma chased the hooded man. They jumped ran across roads and jumped over chains. But she pushed through and managed to get to the hooded man. Emma cut him off and pushed him down, revealing who he was. She was shocked. She hadn't seen him in years. It was the same person who had received the postcard of Storybrooke a few months back. "No," she said in disbelief. "Neal?"
"Emma?" Neal asked. He, too, was confused as to why she was here. He got up slowly, and so did Emma. "I don't understand," he continued. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" Emma asked. "Yeah."
"I'm not answering anything until you tell me the truth. Are you Gold's son?" "What are you talking about? Who's Gold?"
"You played me. You're from there. You played me. And he played me. You both played me! You and Gold..."
"Okay, Emma, slow down. What are you talking about? Who's Gold?" Neal said, even more confused.
"Your father! Rumplestiltskin."
Neal was silent for a second to process all of it. "He's here?" "Why else would I be in New York?"
"You brought him to me? Why would you do that?"
"Hey! I am the only one allowed to be angry here. Did you know who I was? Where I was from? The whole time? Was this just some sort of sick twisted plan? Did you even care about me at all?!"
"Emma, Emma ..." Neal began, but Emma wouldn't allow him to finish his sentence.
"I wanna know! I want the truth! All of it!"
"Okay, Fine! We've got to get off the street. We can't do it out here in the open," Neal said. "I have spent a lifetime running from that man. I'm not going to let him catch me. There's a bar down the street. We can talk there."
"I am not drinking with you. Whatever you're going to tell me, tell me now."
"No, the bar's better. Don't worry. You can keep yelling at me when we get there." Neal began to walk in the direction of the bar, leaving Emma standing there. She stood there for a moment before storming off after him.
Near Neal's apartment were Mr Gold, Belle, the Professor and Henry. Henry had gotten hungry, so Mr Gold decided to buy him a hotdog. Purchase all of them a hotdog.
Henry saw the look of worry on Mr Gold's face. "Don't worry. Emma's good at catching people."
"Well, my son has been running away for a long time now. And I feel he's equally adept at it," Mr Gold said.
"Well, at least we found him, right?"
"Yeah. That's right," the Professor said. "It's a start."
Henry nodded. "Oh, and thanks. For the hotdog. I forgot."
"You are quite welcome. And thank you," Mr Gold said.
"For what?" Henry asked as the group started to walk away from the cart.
"Well, if it weren't for you bringing Emma to Storybrooke, none of this would have come to pass. You are a remarkable young man," Mr Gold said.
"You know, I forgave her. Emma. For giving me up. She thought it was the best for me then. That's why she did it. I'm sure your son will get it too."
"Alas, the circumstances surrounding our separation weren't so noble."
"But you're here now. And you want your son back, right?"
Mr Gold nodded. "More than anything." "Then that's all that matters."
Belle nodded as she swallowed a bite from her hotdog. "These are delicious," she said.
"Yeah. They are," Henry replied before taking another bite from his own. "They're the best."
Back at the bar, Emma and Neal were sitting at the bar counter. Each had a tall glass of lager in front of them. "Well, what do you wanna know, Emma?" neal asked. "You want the truth? Ask away."
"Did you know who I was when we met?" Emma asked.
"If I had, I wouldn't have gone near you."
"Come on," Emma whispered and got up.
"Come on … Come on what? I was in hiding. I came here to get away from all that crap."
"So, if you didn't know, you were using me. You just needed someone to take the fall for all the watches that you stole."
"I wasn't using you. I didn't know when we met, but I found out."
\Emma retook her seat. "How?"
"When I went to sell the watches, I ran into a friend of yours. August."
Emma began to tear up. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. "You left me and let me go to prison because Pinocchio told you to?"
get more upset. "You left me... And let me go to prison because Pinocchio told you to?"
"Emma..."
"I loved you."
"I was trying to … I was trying to help you," Neal said, though he found it hard to explain. But unfortunately, all the bad memories were coming to the surface again.
"By letting me go to jail?" "By getting you home."
"Are you telling me that our meeting was a coincidence? How did that happen if it wasn't in your plan or your father's?"
"Think about it. My father wanted you to break the curse. Us meeting that could've stopped it. Maybe it was fate."
"You believe in that?"
Neal took a breath. "You know, there's not a ton I remember about my father that doesn't suck. But he used to tell me that there are no coincidences. Everything that happens, happens by design. And there's nothing we can do about it. Forces greater than us conspire to make it happen. Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it, the point is, maybe we met for a reason. Maybe something good came from us being together."
Emma was silent for a moment. "No," she said softly. "Not that I can think of. I just went to jail. That's it. Doesn't matter now. I'm over it. And you." Sighing, Emma got up from her seat. She moved her scarf, exposing the necklace she wore.
Neal caught a glance at it. "Why do you wear the keychain I got you?"
Emma looked down at the keychain hanging around her neck before she yanked it off. "To remind me never to trust someone again. Come on. I made a deal with your father that I'd bring you to him."
"You made a deal with him?" "Yeah, and I'm upholding my end."
"No, no, you don't have to. You know that."
"I know."
"Okay. So this should be easy for you. Tell him that you lost me. Tell him you can't find me. You'll never have to see me again if you do that."
