Henry frustratedly threw back the covers and glared into the darkness. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep for the past two days, ever since Regina had caught him in her vault. He had mumbled something about leaving his textbook there, managing to smuggle the magic book away under his jacket, but she still looked at him suspiciously. She hadn't said anything about it, but Henry could tell she hadn't let it go.
He had stowed the book under a loose floorboard in his room the second he got home, but had been too afraid to pull it out and look at it since. But it was dark now. Everyone was asleep.
No one would see him.
He silently crept out of bed and tip-toed over to the floorboard. He eased his nails under it, flinching when it squeaked slightly. Ever so gently, he placed the board to the side and pulled out the book with shaking hands. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he looked down at it.
He was reluctant to open it. Not because he was scared or anything…well, maybe slightly. But it wasn't fear keeping the book closed: it was guilt.
Neal had taken him out for a bite earlier, so they could hang out. They hadn't gone to Granny's, at Henry's request: he wasn't quite up to seeing Ruby fawn over Hook, but all he told Neal was he was sick of the wallpaper. Neal raised his eyebrows, but didn't pry; they went to the White Rabbit instead. It wasn't until the waitress had brought them their burgers and fries that either of them said anything.
"You want to tell me what's going on, kid?" Neal said, idly twisting a fry.
Henry shrugged. "Sure," he said, stabbing holes into his burger with a fork. "After you tell me what's going on."
Neal raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. Henry stared back with half-lidded eyes, refusing to break under pressure. Neal blinked at him; Henry blinked back. There was a silence as both waited for the other to cave.
"You're getting good," Neal said finally, hiding a proud smile. Henry took a sip of water, so Neal wouldn't see him grin at the compliment.
They didn't show emotion. They were men.
"All right. I'll make you a deal," Neal said as Henry put down his glass. "We sum it up in one sentence, we say it at the same time, and then we forget about it, okay?"
Henry nodded, considering the deal. "Sounds like a plan."
"Okay. Count of three, all right? One…two…three—"
"Hook stole my girlfriend—DAD!"
Neal had stayed silent and was now snorting into his beer. Henry groaned and threw his head in hands, utterly humiliated. Neal laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
"Hey, it's all right, buddy. Been there."
"You didn't say anything," Henry said in a muffled voice. "We were supposed to say it at the same time."
"Come on, Henry," Neal said, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement."I mean, did you really fall for that?"
"Apparently, I did," he sighed, lifting his head. Neal smiled at him crookedly.
"So… you want to tell me who this girlfriend of yours is? And please tell me she's older than you," he added. "I mean, I know how Hook is, but I'd hate to think he's actually stooped to picking up fourteen-year-old girls."
Henry picked at his food. "Ruby."
Neal's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, so she is older than you."
"Well, she's not exactly my girlfriend," Henry explained. "I just…"
"I gotcha, I gotcha," Neal smiled, waving his hand. "So, Ruby, huh?" He nodded, considering. "Yeah, she's cute."
Henry looked up incredulously. "Cute?"
Neal choked on his drink, and coughed. "I'm sorry," he said as Henry stared at him in disbelief. "I meant…super-duper, burning-my-eyes-out, crazy-hot."
"Yeah, well, Hook seems to think so," Henry grumbled, going back to squashing his fries. Neal watched him silently.
"Do you want to…do you want to, like, talk about it…or something?"
Henry shook his head immediately. He was like his dad: talking about things didn't help—that just drew them out for longer than they needed to be.
Neal blew out a slow breath. "Well…"
Henry raised his eyes: Neal was scratching the back of his head, obviously hesitating. Henry frowned. "You okay?"
"I, uh… I kinda had a fight with your mom," Neal said, avoiding Henry's gaze.
"About what?" He narrowed his eyes. "Not Hook?"
Neal scoffed. "No. Believe me, this one is on Emma."
Henry carefully schooled his surprised expression into a bored one. "What happened?"
"Eh…" Neal shrugged dismissively. "She just…I don't know, Henry, I shouldn't be telling you about this."
"Dad—"
"Nah, you got enough to worry about. I mean, some other dude stole your almost-girlfriend. That's not cool."
They had spent the rest of the evening thinking of creative ways to get revenge on Hook (at one point, Neal had eyed Henry warily after he came up with a particularly disturbing method of disposing of the body). Eventually, Neal walked him back to the loft; he gave him a one-armed hug.
"Don't worry about Ruby, Henry," he said. "She gets distracted by shiny objects, and Hook's just another shiny object, okay?"
Henry smiled derisively. "He does wear a lot of jewelry."
"There you go," Neal grinned, nudging him inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."
I'll see you tomorrow, kid. Neal's words echoed in his brain now. Would he be able to face him tomorrow? He was sitting here, holding a magic book, actually thinking about using it! After everything magic had done to destroy his father's life…
But it was also magic that had allowed Rumple to find him again…which had allowed Henry to find him. Should he really be feel guilty for using magic? Henry shook his head, trying to clear it. Stop it, he told himself sternly. You're using guilt as an excuse to bail. Suck it up, Mills.
He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he had made up his mind. He threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, stuffed the book into his backpack along with the handful of jars and vials he had stolen from Regina's vault, and snuck down the stairs. Emma was lying on the couch, her headphones still blaring against her slight snoring. She had fallen asleep listening to angry metal music, still seething about whatever happened earlier that night. Henry hadn't asked because it couldn't have had anything to do with Neal—that only left Hook, and he really didn't need to know the details of their relationship.
He eased his way out of the loft, only breathing once he had closed the door behind him. Then he raced down the stairs,worried that going any slower would have given him time to change his mind. He didn't bother pulling out his bike; the well was in the middle of the woods, it would have been easier to just go on foot.
He ran, jumping tree roots and fallen logs every so often, ignoring the mud spattering onto his jeans (even though he knew Regina would throw a fit). By the time he reached the well, his face was stinging with the chill of the October night. The moon was nearly full, its light shining through the tree leaves in speckled rays.
He breathed in shakily, looking down the well. It was impossible to tell the depth of it: he could see a few feet of dimly lit stones, but after that it might as well have been a black hole. He took out the jars and vials with trembling hands, squinting in the moonlight to see what he had swiped. He hadn't looked at labels or studied the contents at the time; he just tossed in whatever he could fit after the book. He wasn't sure why; it just seemed to fit, once he started stealing magic to…keep on stealing.
Well, he was his father's son!
Feeling considerably more cheerful now, he placed the vials on the side of the well (carefully! He didn't want to chance them rolling away) so he wouldn't lose them in the grass. Lastly, he brought out the book. Henry stroked the cover, tracing the strange gold letters with is finger. Taking a deep breath, he propped it against the edge and opened it.
There was the sound of wind swirling, echoing through the depths of the well. Henry felt his heart pound.
"Shit," he breathed. "Did I wake something up?" He squinted, trying to see through the blackness, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing. Was that magic? Henry frowned. Should there have been some big swirly cloud or something? How was he supposed to be able to tell when he'd accomplished something?
He slumped. Maybe this was a stupid idea. He didn't even really know what he was doing. Maybe he'd be better off sticking to storybooks and goody-two-shoeing through life.
He closed the book and turned to grab the vials when—"Umph!"—he tripped over his stupid backpack, one of his arms flinging out to break his fall…
"SHIT!" he yelled, not caring who heard him. His arm had swung out, knocking the vials into the well. Cursing angrily, he scrambled to his feet, bending over the well as far as he could without falling in.
"Hello?" he called nervously, hardly breathing. "Hello?" He frowned, shaking his head. "Who the hell am I talking to?"
He pushed himself away from the edge, slinging his backpack on one arm. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned to walk away. It was a dumb idea to begin with. Why he ever thought he could actually—
"Hello?" a voice called out. "Hello, is someone there?"
Henry froze. That voice was too familiar…it was impossible—
"Hello? Please, can you help me?"
It was coming from the well.