Guest Comments

Guest: Thank you so much!

Bosslady: Thank you, sweetie! I love Emma's relationship with Henry; it kept me going with the show for a long time. Prompts noted!

Title: Not So Simple
Rating: T
Summary: Three days after their return, Neal is found, and they need to find a way to make it work.
Author's Note: Based on the numerous requests to deal with the "Neal situation" (guest on ffnet, bosslady, tiramisu1994, lessawildmoon, diddykongfan … I think that's it?) Accompanying gifset on tumblr. There is both a little more and a little less closure for Neal, here.

It's only on the third day after they returned, after finding the cage filed with gold thread, that Emma realized that she hadn't seen Neal at all.

It hadn't been a priority, not with everything else going on. She was dealing with a lot, all at once, so it was no surprise that her ex had been forgotten in the midst. However, when she finally realized his absence, she recognized how suspicious it was. By now, everyone knew they were back in town. More importantly, everyone knew that Henry was there.

So, where was Neal?

Emma leaned her head against her hand, sighing deeply. She set aside a stack of papers and looked back to the white board that dwarfed the far left wall. It was covered in writing, from David's neat hand, to Graham's sharp lines. Question marks blanketed every statement. There were still no leads to speak of, and each piece only added a new branch to each mystery.

Suddenly she felt hands on the back of her neck and she relaxed immediately, letting the comfort soak into her skin. "This is frustrating," she said simply.

Graham leaned his chin on her head as he continued working on the knots in her muscles. "Dead ends, everywhere. I don't get it. Whoever it is, they are really waiting to make their first move."

"Unless they're already making it," she grumbled darkly.

He nodded. "If that's the case, then we're several steps behind. Not a good place to be right now."

"Agreed," she muttered.

"The curse is strange," Graham murmured with a shake of his head. "Just a year of forgotten memories, but everything else in place? What would that serve?"

She rocked her head back and stared at the ceiling. "Something important must have happened in that time. It couldn't have been … couldn't have been her that cast the curse. Not with Mary Margaret and David still together."

He huffed a sigh and tilted her face so he could press a chaste kiss onto her jaw. She shivered pleasantly; he hadn't shaved yet, and the stubble that scratched against her was nostalgic. She made a mental note to hide his razor for the next couple days. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice barely audible.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his pulse in his neck thumping steadily against her shoulder. It was deceptively mellowed, and from the corner of her eye she tried to gauge his reaction. Being so near Regina had been difficult for her, especially with her mother working so hard to keep the woman at her side. She can only imagine how difficult it all was for Graham. She gave herself a mental shake, and refocused on their conundrum.

"So we need to go over the other options. Someone that had access to magic, and the spell. Someone who's missing a loved one," he stated, his fingers moving to once more massage her neck.

"'The heart of the thing you love most,'" Emma quoted as she brushed her hands over Henry's story book. Numbness was settling over her as her thoughts sharply centered.

"Exactly. We need to work backward, and quick. Picking up clues like this has been fruitless."

Emma rolled her neck deeper into his touch, staring blankly at the ceiling above her. "And we know Gold is alive. And that Neal is missing." She's almost surprised when the words slip out of her mouth, so clinical and cold. The thought had come to her so suddenly, and idea gnawed through her nerves. But the pieces fit a little too neatly. That Gold could have killed his son after dying to save him … it didn't seem to add up. What else could she believe, though? Nothing else made sense.

Graham swallowed. "We don't know if that's connected," he said, but his voice wasn't as sure.

If it was true … oh, God, Henry, she thought. The lights above them flickered, and she took a deep breath inwards to calm herself as she felt veins sparking.

His eyes locked on the electrical units before carefully setting back on to her.

"Sorry," she muttered.

He shook his head, waving off her apology. "We figured it would be more here."

Her magic only rarely showed up in New York. There had been a little more frequency after they conceived, but usually it made itself known in tiny, barely noticeable ways. Her magic hadn't exactly gone haywire since their entrance into Storybrooke, but no more was it inconspicuous.

They had talked about it when it had first appeared, and now she barely noticed the tremor that bounced in his jaw as he saw it.

"If I could control it –"

"I know. And we'll work on that. But hiding from it will do none of us any good," he reminded before bending to kiss her sweetly. His arms surrounded her, soothingly brushing his hands over her forearms and then cradling her stomach. She feels herself sink into the embrace, the soft reassurance coursing through her.

If I had known, I wouldn't have gone near you. Neal's words echoed back at her, as did the pang that had accompanied them at the time. It was fainter now, less powerful than it had been when she first realized the man that fathered her son hated what she was. The fact that the man next to her, who had been abused for so long by magic, worked to reassure her about her power … that sent a thrum of contentment through her whole body. Her soul felt lighter in knowing that her husband's feelings didn't change because of it. Those old wounds left by her first love were definitely healing up from the trust that colored this relationship.

A small smile crossed his handsome face before he buried it in her neck, and she knew he could see the relief in her. "Your mom's meeting with the midwife again today. Are you going to join her?"

She shook her head immediately. She didn't like the way the redhead looked at her belly, how she had immediately known the significance of their child. It sent shivers up her spine just thinking about it. There was just something that felt … off. "David was thinking of looking for Gold. We should probably focus on that."

"And Belle?" he asked.

She sighed. "She's on edge since we found the cage. I'd have you go calm her down, but I don't want Henry alone right now."

"You're right. But if it's someone targeting Gold, then they might go after Belle." Emma heard the hard edge in his voice, the worry for the one person that he could talk to during his enslavement.

She shrugged, her teeth running along her lip as her mind skipped over possibilities. "Red? Maybe she's available."

Graham brushed a hand over his chin. "Hook's looking for something to do."

Emma winced. "I don't know. They're not exactly two people I'd stick together just yet."

Graham frowned. "Do I want to ask why?"

She chuckled mirthlessly with a shake of her head. "Probably not today. Let's call Red to see if she's able. If not, maybe I can convince her to tag along with me and David. If she's a target, I don't want her with you and Henry."

Graham grimaced, and she watched the concern pass over him once again. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Hey," she said softly. She pressed her hand onto his jaw. "She'll be all right. As long as we work together, we'll all be safe."

He laughed in a short huff of breath. "Is that optimism I hear?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Blame your kid. He's messing with my realism."

A grin stretched across his features. "You really think I'm the optimist in this family?"

"Maybe Henry's influencing me," she grumbled good-naturedly.

Before he could respond, the phone of the table chimed. She sighed and picked it up, holding up a finger to her husband. "Hello?"

"Emma? It's Belle. We have a development."

XX

She walked down the hall like her legs were filled with lead, her arms crossed in front of her stomach self-consciously. She didn't know why the idea of seeing Neal made her feel like that young girl again, all the strength and confidence she had built in the last thirteen years fleeing her at just the thought. She braced herself, tangling her fingers in the shoelace on her wrist, before finally making her way into the room.

"Neal," she said in greeting. Even on the stark white of the hospital bed and covered in wires, he looked the same. He appeared mostly uninjured, though Belle had mentioned him being weak when he broke into Gold's shop that morning.

A small smile turned the corner of his lips. "Hey, Emma."

The anticipation in his voice was uncomfortable; she felt as on edge as she did when they had first returned from Neverland, like he expected her to fall back into the same routine they had when she was sixteen. A part of her wished she had taken Graham with her, so she didn't feel so vulnerable. Another part was relieved to finally be able to part with him and his feelings on her own terms. She tightened her arms around herself before nodding. "We've been looking for you."

He nodded. "So I heard."

She swallowed. "I expected you sooner. With Henry around, I mean."

A dark look passed his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I don't really know what happened. One day, I'm watching the yellow bug pass the town line, the next I'm wandering around the forest back in Storybrooke." His eyes flicked down her body. "And apparently there's been a whole lot going on."

She looked down, realizing that she had pulled her shirt tighter around herself in the process of curling inward, and her swollen stomach was as prominent as the ring on her finger. "I'd say so," she murmured. "But first, I need to tell you that we think Gold is alive."

His gaze shadowed. "What? My dad? I just watched him die, what do you mean he's back?" he questioned, his voice heightening in tension.

Emma held out a hand to stop him. "Take it easy. They still don't know why you were in so much pain when you were brought in."

Neal huffed. "I'm fine."

She glanced away, feeling her ire rise at his impatient tone. "Whatever. We found a room and there was gold thread. Unless you know someone else with that talent, your dad has somehow managed to resurrect himself." She paused thoughtfully. "And he wouldn't be the only one to manage it. But that's all we know right now."

"Magic," he spat bitterly. "But even he used to be fond of the saying 'dead is dead.' There has to be another explanation."

She sighed. "Maybe there's someone else that knows, but I don't think so. Whoever has him is going through pretty great lengths to keep him, and the reasons for this curse, hidden."

He shook his head, his jaw tight. "You said he's not the only one?" he finally asked.

She nodded, and her teeth grazed her bottom lip. "Yeah. My—my husband. He's from here, too. He died in Storybrooke, about four months before Gold found you. He's here, he's alive, and he's … well, normal," she murmured, her hand resting on top of her stomach gently.

His focus pulled downward. He was silent a long moment. "A kid, huh?"

She smiled despite herself. "Yeah." She looked up, meeting his eye seriously to make sure she got her next point across. "I'm happy."

He gave a stiff smile in return, folding his hands together. "I think back … leaving you back then. If I had known about Henry –"

"You would have stayed?" she asked incredulously. She shook her head, feeling frustration pull at her. "Then we really wouldn't have worked, Neal, if that was the one thing that could have made you stay." She hesitated, trying to wrap her mind around his words, the implications thrumming in her head. "Things would have ended that much worse. You said it: I wasn't enough. Not for you to stay."

His face tightened. "I—your magic, my dad—"

"I get it," she said sharply. She didn't want to hear the excuses again, the same words that made her feel less and less each time. "It may have been better for Henry, I don't know. You were still a wanted thief, I was still young, and we weren't exactly living the safest life. Getting away from Regina, away from this town, though … his life would have been more normal. And I don't doubt that you would have loved him. But we would have never worked. I mean, even ignoring that, I was sixteen. I had been alone so long, and you were the first person I ever—"

She felt an annoying cloy of tears interrupt her speech, the burst of her emotion casting aside the reason she had been speaking with before. She had been so young, so willing to believe that what they had was love, so desperate to belong somewhere, to someone. And there was that older man, who gave her attention and was attracted to her, who she thought loved her (I wanted to love you, but I was afraid) ….

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she felt a sudden fluttering within her. She drew in a deep breath, letting the feeling of her baby calm her nerves back down. She had still gotten Henry; she had still gotten true love. Her life had still managed to fall into place.

But the scars of that time still played a factor for her, in both lives.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She laughed lightly, surprised to find herself put at ease. This was the first time she'd heard him say it, when it hadn't been accompanied by a million excuses: pulling the blame on her destiny, easing the blame from himself. She could hear the sincerity; it was an honest apology.

It was a start.

"Thank you," she said after a beat. Maybe, finally, there would be closure. Maybe, then, they could become friends.

"But you're—you're good now. You found Tallahassee," he said, his tone implying a question.

She winced and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "It's not Tallahassee." She saw something briefly pass over his face, something like hope, and she grabbed his arm, careful to correct him. "Tallahassee was a dream. A good one. But it was something that wasn't ever going to be real. What I have, not only is it real," she hesitated, thinking about her life.

She pictured Emilia laughing so hard wine came out her nose, of Maggie with her arms full of groceries showing up at her Boston apartment, of Gia furiously arguing with the director of the Anderson school to get her kid in, of Ritu holding her hair back with one hand and calling the doctor with the other, of Andie with a bright smile and an open ear behind the bar.

She pictured Henry, diving into her arms after school, looking up at her as if she were the world. Of Graham, pulling her close at night, feeling the love seep off of him, curling deep into her soul. Of their baby, growing and loved by all three, and the excitement brewing for his entrance into the world.

A soft, slow grin covered her face. "It's more than I could have asked for," she finished tenderly.

He looked disappointed, in a way, but offered a smile. "I'm glad, Emma." He scratched his ear. "I mean it."

She didn't want to offer any platitudes back, no empty words about what she speculated his life would be. Instead, she simply nodded. Another movement made her catch sight of his hand, a strange scarring focusing her attention. "What the hell is that?"

He looked at his palm, frowning hard. "No idea. It was there when I woke up."

"That's strange," she murmured. She rummaged through her purse to find her phone. She took a quick snap of the strange insignia that appeared to be burned into his flesh. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "No." He brushed a thumb over the skin.

"Belle would know what it is," she mused, quickly composing a message to the brunette.

"It will be good to see everyone again," he said with a sigh.

She cocked her head to the side. "Would you like to see Henry?"

His eyes changed, brightening in a way. "Yes," he answered simply, eagerly.

She rose. "I think him and Graham are still at Granny's—"

"I could go for some food," Neal said, pivoting on the bed.

She frowned. "Whale hasn't cleared you yet."

"And since when am I a rule follower?" he asked, flashing a cocky grin. "I want to see my son."

She sighed, knowing it would be futile to argue. Neal wouldn't care that it would only be a matter of fifteen or so minutes to get Henry over.

She walked next to him, watching him carefully for signs of fatigue as they entered the elevator. "There's a couple things we should probably talk about, with Henry."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, distracted.

She nodded. She wasn't sure how to broach this with him. The Henry that grew up with her knew that he sent her to jail. Henry now knew Neal's reasoning, but it still made him less than enthusiastic regarding him. How she could tell Neal that a year meant that Henry's feelings had tempered from the enthusiastic, eager boy was a bit daunting.

The doors slid open before she could speak, though, and Neal darted out. She huffed, reaching out to stop him before he could go further without her explaining.

"Dad."

Two things occurred to Emma as soon as the word was spoken. The first was Neal. The voice was unmistakably Henry, and the fact changed the whole of Neal's face. He looked ecstatic, softened, filled with pride.

But Emma recognized the tone her son was using. It wasn't in greeting, not in excitement. It was mild, the word extended, slightly whiny … the tone he used when he was trying to get Graham to do something.

"I don't know how gullible you think I am in Storybrooke, kid. Fifteen and a half, then you can drive with me or your mom." Her husband's humored response confirmed Emma's thoughts, and her heart sank.

She had forgotten that other piece. The one that had warmed her heart so many times when he had said it before, now coiled sympathy deep in her belly. For Henry, Graham was Dad in basically every sense … even legally. He had earned that title, again and again, and Henry used it freely.

Emma and Neal turned the corner at the same time, as she watched the other pair walk into the gift shop, Graham's arm locking Henry into a playful headlock to the boy's clear amusement. She studied Neal's frozen face, as a multitude of emotion crossed it. Shock, disbelief, disappointment … then the slow burn of anger before he turned to her sharply.

"What was that?" he demanded.

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. "It's been a long time, Neal. We didn't think we'd ever see you again."

He looked stricken. "You didn't have faith? I told you. I told you it wouldn't be the last time we saw each other."

"You've broken promises before," she countered, then winced at her own words. Apparently, the hurt hadn't been fully resolved, and her hormone-quickened reactions weren't helpful in dealing with it. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."

He fumed, and shoved his hands in the air. "So, because I made one mistake, you're letting another guy take over my role in my kid's life?"

She shook her head angrily. "One mistake? Is that really all you can …," she trailed off, balling her hands into fists. Her veins buzzed with magic, and she drove the instinct back as much as she could. Carefully, she ignored his words for now, knowing that wasn't the point. "He's not taking over your role. He knew Henry longer than either of us in that first life. He loves him. And when we got married, Graham asked Henry if he could adopt him. Henry agreed. Legally, Graham is his father."

"I am his father," he hissed.

She took a breath. "Biologically, yes. But what I found out through the lawyers is that you haven't had a legal claim on Henry since 30 days after he was born. I'm sure that Henry will welcome you back into his life. And I'm sure he'll call you 'dad.' But you can't demand anything, okay? We can find some way to get legal visitation on the books if that makes you happy, or we can work something out between us all."

"This is bullshit," he muttered thickly. He paced the width of the hallway, hands fisted against his skull.

"I know it's a shock," she said cautiously.

"A shock? You think that's all this is? To see you here, with your perfect life, and my kid calling someone else dad?" he demanded.

She looked away as the lighting brightened then snapped off above them. This was the second time in as many days that someone who was supposed to support her instead accused her of not only having a perfect life, but that she should feel ashamed because of it. "My life is not an attack on you," she said stiffly, nails digging into her skin.

He snarled. "When you don't prepare me, and shove this fact in my face? Then, I think it kind of is."

She narrowed her eyes, looking up with a dark expression. "I am not shoving this in your face. I was trying to prepare you for it, if you can think back for two seconds." She blinked back a few tears as she straightened her spine. "I won't be sorry that Henry thinks of Graham as a father. He deserves every bit of love this world wants to offer him. So, please, please … just don't hold this against Henry. Accept it now, because I can't have you make him feel guilty about this."

"You want me to just ignore everything so you can feel better about this?" he asked incredulously.

"No," she hissed. "I want you to understand where I'm coming from so you don't give Henry a complex."

His jaw tightened, his face puckering. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Neal—"

"No, Emma, if you want me to act like this is okay, then I can't do this right now," he said firmly. "I'm leaving. I'll start a search for my father."

His voice was low, rough, and with a thread of anger that she could still plainly hear. A part of her wanted to remind him that Henry would only be here to see him, but another understood. He needed time to come to grip with this. "Fine. Don't be gone too long."

He waved her off, the scarring prominent once more as he stalked off in the direction of the exit.

She was suddenly filled with an immediate sense of dread as she watched him leave, that she would never again see him like this. A panic climbed up her, and she opened her mouth to call to him, to stop him, to Neal, don't make me do it—

"Hey."

She sagged in relief to hear the familiar tones.

"Mom!"

She turned, feeling her son wrap his arms around her. She forced a smile and looked over the flowers that Henry held. A wash of frustration in Neal covered her. Henry cared so much, about all of them. She made sure her façade didn't slip as she brushed back his hair. "Those are pretty. Neal's already left AMA, though. We'll have to save them for when he gets home."

Henry frowned. "Oh. I thought I'd be able to see him again."

Her heart tugged at the disappointment in her son's voice. "You'll get to see him soon," she soothed.

But again, that something whispered at the back of her mind. No, he won't.

Graham's brow was furrowed. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. As he lingered there, an "everything okay?" was breathed against her ear.

She nodded with a jerk. "It'll be fine," she said, more to herself than her husband.

A shadow crossed his face, an innate protectiveness she had glimpsed several times before. She knew he was thinking the worst, of the fight that occurred that Graham had anticipated. His dark blue eyes were studying her, easily finding the cracks in her veneer. "We'll talk later," he promised, then reached down to entwine their fingers.

"Do you think my father will be able to leave town once the curse is broken?" Henry asked curiously.

"I—" she paused, considering. "I don't actually know."

Henry shrugged. "I guess we can ask Mr. Gold once we find him, right?"

"Right," she said uncertainly.

"If Mr. Gold knows, Henry," Graham countered. "But it wouldn't be too far-fetched, I don't think."

She started to nod, even though the feeling was creeping back up her spine, when her phone buzzed against her. She picked it up, noting David's information on the screen. "David, what's up?"

"Emma? I'm at the edge of the woods, near the hospital. I just saw Gold."