Horns blared amidst the sound of brawling voices, the noises of cramped traffic muffled only by the rushing wind. Neal kept his hands in his pockets, walking at the brisk pace set by the other New Yorkers cluttering the sidewalk; shouldering his way through the crowd.

It was hard to keep the smile off his face. He'd missed this city—God, he'd missed this city! Storybrooke was so small and dull, in spite of the individuals: it was a lifeless town without color, a sweeping landscape of mediocrity. New York was alive: electric, full of energy and go-go-go! Never a silent moment, no time to linger—always in a rush and doing something, a constant state of motion. A city full of strangers….So refreshing.

"Oh, my God, I'm literally going to kill everything," Hook said loudly, as yet another person pushed roughly past him. "Why is everyone in such a hurry to go nowhere?"

"That, my friend, is the essence of the Big Apple," Neal said over his shoulder, easily dodging the crowd that Hook was complaining about. "Embrace it!"

"I don't have time to embrace it, I've got more important things on my mind." Hook pushed his way to Neal's side, glowering straight ahead. "I'm having a hard time working out whether or not Ruby broke up with me."

Honestly, Neal thought it was more than clear that Ruby's suggestion to "get breathing space" was the precursor to an official break-up; but he didn't want to come right out and say it, not while he was the only one with an available shoulder to cry on.

"You gave her a lot to deal with," he offered finally. "Threw some heavy sentiments out there, and then all that stuff about your mom…"

"I just wanted to be honest with her!" Hook argued, struggling to keep up with him. "I thought she'd like that!"

Neal shrugged. "Archie told you to get some time away, regardless. Maybe it's for the—"

"Don't say it's for the best!" Hook said severely. "How could it possibly be for the best? I'm ninety-six-percent confident I love this woman!"

"Four percent margin of error, that's romantic."

"Mmm," Hook agreed vaguely; then, with a little sigh, "Neal, I don't know if my heart can survive another break-up. It's cutting into a still-fresh wound, and honestly, I'm starting to take it personally. I mean—is it me? Is there something wrong with—?"

"Of course," Neal said, giving him a strange look. "This is entirely your fault."

Hook frowned at him. "That better be sarcasm, mate."

"It's not," Neal said, without a trace of irony. "I truly and honestly believe with all my heart that this is your fault."

"Have you never heard of 'bros before ho's'?" Hook sputtered.

"I have," Neal shrugged. "I choose to ignore it."

"What—why? I always have your back!"

The crosswalk flashed: DON'T WALK, giving him ample opportunity to give Hook the most incredulous glare of righteous judgment he had ever given another person.

Hook blinked. "What?"

"You always have my back?" Neal repeated witheringly. "Really?"

"'Course, I have," Hook scoffed. "When haven't I?"

Neal's eyes widened. "Well, shit, let me think! How about— when we were stranded in Neverland, trying to save my son from insane teenagers, and you made the whole thing about you by going after Emma and trying to sell me as the jealous ex? Or how about when I was fourteen years old, being kidnapped by those same insane teenagers, to my evil great-grandfather's lair of doom, and you just stood there and let them? How about when I was a little kid, barely up to your knee, and you let my mother abandon me before I was even old enough to remember her face?"

"But we weren't friends, then," Hook said earnestly, keeping in step with Neal as the light changed. "I'd never do that to you now. I'd die for you, Neal, you know that."

Neal clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to smash his head into a brick wall. He probably would have, if it had been anyone else: but for Hook, this was positively moral. The man had spent two hundred years as a murderous, villainous, blackhearted, pirate-scum bastard: they were lucky Hook still had a conscience at all, even if it was a lopsided one.

"Neal?"

"What?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"…You're a very frustrating person to deal with."

"I know." Hook sighed heavily. "Probably why Ruby's going to give up on me altogether: just not worth the effort…"

And again, had it been anyone else, Neal's heart might have broken a little.

Except Hook was still a selfish bastard, so screw him.

"Yep, probably," Neal agreed shortly.

Hook shot him a sideways glare. "You're a cold man, Neal Cassidy," he muttered. "A cold, cold man."

"Well, I must be doing something right, because last I checked, I was the only who still had a girlfriend."

"Only Emma," Hook scoffed, as if she hardly counted.

"As opposed to your…? Oh, right—nobody."

"She's not broken up with me yet!"

"Key word: yet."

Hook pressed his lips together tightly, and went back to glowering straight ahead. Neal flicked his eyes in derisive amusement, his anger lifting: maybe it was just being back in the city he loved, but it was difficult to stay all that cross with Hook.

"Come on," he said, bumping his shoulder. "Stop pouting, I'll buy you a coffee."

"I'm not pouting."

"Like a little girl."

"I'm not." But for all his objections, his mood seemed to have lifted some—cheered by the prospect of free breakfast. "Where would we be getting this coffee, exactly?"

"Diner," Neal shrugged. "There's a million of them here— you can't go ten feet without running into one."

"A million diners…" And Neal could hear, just in his voice, that Hook was imagining a million diners with a million Granny's and a million Health-Code-violating meatloaves. "I don't know how to feel about that."

"It's not supposed to be emotionally provocative. You want a coffee, or don't you?"

"…Yeah, all right, then."

He woke to the sound of Belle's coffee grinder crushing Folger's Winter Blend beans into brewable dust; breakfast crackling on the stove serving as background noise. Another moment of listening, and he'd caught Belle's heels clunking around the kitchen; the fridge opening and closing; the radio at a soft hum.

He rubbed his eyes, looking blearily down at himself as he shifted on the couch: still in his hoodie and jeans from last night, though someone had removed his shoes and placed them neatly under the table. His jacket was gone, too—probably hanging up in the closet.

It took him another few minutes for his vision to adjust to the bright morning, and a bit more for his body to adjust to being awake: his joints still ached with weariness, cracking as he stretched his limbs.

Last night had really taken a toll on him: he was exhausted, to say the least—not to mention, he hadn't gotten any of that stupid History homework done, so Sister Astrid was going to pitch a bitch-fit.

"Meh," he shrugged, getting up from the couch. Sister Astrid could stick it.

He wandered into the kitchen, aimlessly kicking the door open and letting it swing shut behind him Belle barely glanced over her shoulder, more occupied with the coffee preparation. "Hey, Henry."

"S'up?" Henry yawned, leaning against the counter. "Where's Grandpa?"

"Out," Belle answered. "Family bonding time, apparently."

Her tone suggested she was more than a little offended she hadn't been included. Henry raised an eyebrow as she slammed a cupboard, setting the glasses to rattle.

"And how are you?" he asked, somewhat cautiously.

"Just dandy," she said, forcing a smile.

Henry nodded slowly, knowing that she specifically intended for him to understand that she was not just dandy. "Something on your mind?" he asked, uncertain whether or not he was supposed to press her for details. "You seem…tense."

"I'm not tense," she said through her teeth. "You want coffee?"

Instinct told him the correct answer was, "I'm late for school"—which was probably for the best, as he was late for school and spending more time with Belle significantly increased the risk of suffering her wrath. After all, he had been the one to bring back Cora: Rumple had mentioned something about a jealous Belle, and Henry was now starting to piece together that she might not be feeling quite as warm or affectionate toward him as she normally did.

Indeed, she only made a half-hearted protest against his decision to walk, rather than letting her drive him. Henry swiped his coat from the closet, and his shoes from under the table, and was out the door in minutes.

Cold as it was, he didn't regret refusing Belle's offer. There was something deeply unsettling about an angry Belle…An angry Regina was one thing, he was more than used to her fury; an angry Belle was a rarer creature, one that he had seen flashes of, but had never quite been on the receiving end. Hook, however, still had the scar from where she'd slammed a pole into his head.

He shivered as an icy gust of riffled his hair, stealing through the worn sleeves of his coat. Here's to hoping he wouldn't contract hypothermia, by the time he got to school…without his backpack, he realized, cursing under his breath as he switched directions, now headed for David and Snow's building. He dug his hands deeper in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, to protect himself against the cold wind. In just a few weeks, he'd turn fifteen —for reals—and then he'd be old enough to get his permit, then his license, and then he wouldn't have to walk around, half-frozen to death, because he'd forgotten his stupid backpack before resurrecting yet another family member.

He'd been walking for a good ten minutes, when he caught the sound of tires crunching snow behind him: sure enough, when he turned around, he saw Dr. Whale in his little black car, squinting at him.

Henry slowed as Whale lowered his window, rolling along at a snail's pace now. "Missed the bus?" he frowned.

"Kinda," Henry shrugged. "I forgot my backpack at the loft, so I have to double-back and get it."

"You want a ride?" Whale offered. "It's on my way."

"The hospital's in the complete opposite direction."

"Yeah, but you're a potential patient of mine—especially if you keep walking around in this weather." Whale stopped the car to prop the passenger door open, and jerked his head. "Get in."

Henry gave him half a smile. "Thanks," he said as he sat down, pulling the door shut behind him.

The doctor shrugged, muttering something about "don't worry about it", and continued driving down the road. Henry looked out the window, the houses passing by in a blur of faded Christmas decorations.

"Had a nice Christmas?" he asked Dr. Whale.

"Not really."

"Oh." Henry drummed his fingers on the window, blowing out a breath. "Well, did you get anything good?" he tried again. "Graham seems like he'd be a good gift-giver—"

"Why would Graham get me something?" Whale scoffed, a little too quickly for Henry not to be interested. "I mean—Graham's just—we're not—I don't even think of him like that."

Henry raised his eyebrows, his mind immediately jumping to Graham's flustered behavior at the station the other day. "Okay, so….I really, really, really want to ask, because something tells me that something happened, and you've been overthinking it and gotten all defensive because it's a huge deal—"

"Nothing happened," Whale said, sounding frustrated with himself.

Maybe nothing happened with Whale, but there was definitely something going on with Graham. Completely disregarding the fact that he had plenty more to concern himself with than Whale's and Graham's personal, he tried to piece together what he knew.

Let's see…Graham had been hanging out more with Jefferson…and Jefferson had tried to kiss him at one point, at least according to Ava's gossip network. Maybe something had happened between those two, and Whale was aware of it, and—oh, sweet Jesus, was he jealous? Henry had suspected Whale harbored feelings for Graham earlier than anyone else in town, all the way back to the morning of Belle and Rumple's vow renewal—he hadn't realized how impatient he was to see them come to something! Nor how eager he was to watch it all play out (though in his defense, this was probably the juiciest piece of gossip to hit the town since the whole We're-all-cursed-fairy-tale-characters-who-don't-remember-our-real-lives debacle).

"So…" Henry searched for a delicate way to ask. "Is Graham gay or what?"

"You'd have to ask Graham," Whale said through his teeth.

"Don't you know?"

"Look, Henry, I offered you a ride out of the goodness of my heart. I have literally no problem ignoring that goodness, and letting you foot the rest of the way." Whale glanced from side to side before making a left turn. "Let's talk about something else."

"Such as…?"

"I don't know—how's school?"

"Fine." Henry shrugged, considering. "Well, not exactly fine—more like, 'okay'. I'm flunking English."

"You are?" Whale spared him a sideways glance, as if unsure if he heard him correctly. "You're flunking English?"

"Yup."

"You don't seem very concerned about it," Whale observed.

Henry snorted. "Storybrooke High is a fake school, just like this is a fake town. Why would I be concerned?"

"Because it's not a fake school," Whale frowned. "Theory of relativity, kiddo. If you're accepting everything else in this town as part of reality—which you have to, because this town is your entire reality, created by magic or not—then you have to accept your school, and its grades, as reality. And you're never going to get into college to be a whatever-you-want-to-be if you're flunking."

"Just English," Henry objected.

"English is important, too." Whale must have felt Henry's skeptical eyes on him, because he added, "In its own way."

"Yeah, well…" Henry trailed off as his phone buzzed. Probably Emma or Regina, demanding to know where he was, what he was doing, why he was late for school. "Oh," he said in surprise, realizing it was from Rumple.

"What is it?"

"It's my grandpa…" Henry trailed off, frowning deeper as he read the text. "Apparently, I've got a meeting after school."

"Parole officer?" Whale suggested dryly.

"Clients."

"Clients?"

"For my necromancy business."

"I'm sorry, did you say necromancy business?"

"Oh, right—I forgot to tell you." Henry cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So, like—you remember how I brought Graham back from the dead?"

Whale flicked his frantic eyes between Henry and the road. "Yeah?"

"Well, I'm actually pretty fucking good at it, so I brought back Cora, and I guess Grandpa's been spreading the word that I'm open for business, so—"

"Brought back Cora?"

"It's just another grandmother," Henry shrugged. "Not all that—DUDE!"—as Whale slammed his foot on the brakes. "What the hell?"

"You brought back another one?" Whale said in disbelief.

"Learn to drive, man! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He brought back another one," Whale said numbly, staring straight ahead. "Unbelievable. I dedicate my entire career to the science of resurrection, and he manages it between his morning pop-tart and first period."

Henry blinked several times. "Sorry," he offered after a minute. "I, uh…didn't mean to steal your legacy there, bro."

"And you're selling it?" Whale turned to him incredulously, as though he were some kind of disgrace. "Like it's a piece of merchandise?"

"I'd say, it's more like a service than a product, but—"

"You called it a business! I mean—what is it, ten bucks a pop? Seven for the Friday special?"

"I'd charge a little more than that, I wanted to put some of it in my college fund—"

"Unbelievable!" Whale threw up hands, shouting at the ceiling. "Is this a joke to you? Huh? You think this is funny, you sick bastards?"

"Who are you talking to?" Henry asked, feeling a little alarmed.

"I don't know—fate? Destiny? The dickhead gods who specifically designed my entire existence to be a cosmic punchline?" Whale dropped his head on the steering wheel, exhaling through his teeth. "God, I hate my life…"

Henry watched him for a few minutes, unsure how to handle the situation. "Are you okay?"

"No, but…" Whale lifted his head miserably, letting out a sigh. "I s'pose that's just par for the course, when it comes to me."

"Hey, come on," Henry said, trying to reassure him. "It's—it's not all that bad, is it?"

"It's exactly that bad."

Christ. First Belle, now Whale…Not a great track record this morning. So far, bringing back Cora had accomplished: making Belle feel insecure and excluded from the family; reminding Whale that he'd basically failed his life's ambition and had wasted decades in pursuit of something Henry had picked up in a matter of months; and this was just spit-balling, but he was guessing that Cora wasn't exactly making friends right now, considering her poisonous personality and general bitchiness, so he'd imposed a major inconvenience on the town at large.

Okay, executive decision: either start deeply considering the potential effects of bringing certain individuals back, or find some dumb jabroni to employ and blame him when things go wrong.

Instantly, he thought of Rumple, which would have been perfect….except Rumple had already endured so many years of being the town scapegoat, every time something went wrong. Of course, the argument back was that, it would be nothing new for Rumple—he'd practically be expecting it. But the morality surrounding that option was questionable, at best—

"Henry, are you listening to me?"

"No…" Henry replied, still half-lost in his thoughts. He decided to file them away for later, and turned to Dr. Whale with raised eyebrows. "What's up?"

Whale gave him a vaguely disapproving look. "I said, I don't have all day—you want to run up there and get your stuff, or what?"

He hadn't even noticed that they were now parked in the apartment complex's lot—nor had he realized that Whale assumed he'd be dropping Henry off at school, as well. That was nice of him, he reflected briefly, feeling a flicker of affection for the doctor. Poor Whale: he was such a good…such an okayish guy, he deserved better.

"Thanks, Dr. Whale," he said, getting out of the car. "I'll only be a minute."

"All right, go on."

Yes, Henry decided as he jogged up the steps. Whale definitely deserved better, poor guy. There were so few people Henry could actually tolerate, but the good doctor was definitely one of them. Whale had been the one Henry had turned to when he'd first started this whole necromancy thing, and he'd helped him with Graham, supported him when he finally revealed his secret to the town, proved himself to be a…a friend? A mentor? A surprisingly decent guy?

Maybe there was something he could do for him—someone he could bring back for him. He wouldn't even charge him, not really: just a small consultation fee for time that could have been spent on paying customers.

No, he thought firmly. I'll waive the fee.

For Dr. Whale, he would waive that fee.