Please note that this chapter contains adult content.
Porter snored.
Something Carina complained quite loudly about the next morning as Emma helped her comb her hair. Porter, for his part, merely pointed out that he didn't complain once about having to sleep with the tv on, even if he did have strange dreams about cowboys in the fifties. Sensing something that could turn into a potential argument, Carina showing hints of hurt and embarrassment, Emma swept it under the rug with the announcement that their father would be there later that day. And while she hoped, maybe, that this would put an end to Porter's epic-freeze out, he still barely looked at her as he passed her on the way to the bathroom while Carina begged to call Daddy right now, not stopping until Emma dialed his number into the landline. She caught him outside of Leo and Effie's, Carina pulling the phone out of her grasp before she could even finish getting her hello out.
Carina gave a lengthy, fast-paced ramble of everything they had done since leaving him and then, seemingly at the news that he had made a pit stop at Effie's, she had complained, "I thought you were coming right here, Daddy?" And then, deflating with disappointment, "But you should of bought Phang with you."
After she passed the phone to Porter, Carina wrapped her little arms around Emma's neck, and, with a wet kiss to her cheek, said, "Happy birthday, Marmy," while Porter talked to Neal, in hushed tones, his back to both of them before pointedly hanging up the phone.
Emma tried, desperately, to draw him out during breakfast. But explaining the situation and the hows and whys behind the quick downward spiral posed an oddly daunting task. And, really, she didn't want to do it without talking to Neal first. He understood magic and whatever better than she did, for one, and they needed to discuss what they would say to both Porter and Carina. Emma didn't want to lie, exactly, but parts of it (like your Grandfather is a dark, murderous wizard- thing) didn't seem appropriate for an audience under ten. And really, considering the fact that Neal still had nightmares about it, it didn't seem appropriate for anyone.
Carina had no trouble carrying the conversation and with her stuffed bear clutched tightly in her arms, happily listed all of the things that she wanted to do and show their father once he got there.
(It was exhausting list that had Emma thinking fondly of a nap between instances of recalling everything she had forgot back at home. Like her birth control pills and Excedrin for her unshakable migraine.)
"We're in the middle of nowhere, Care," muttered Porter as he picked at his food, dragging a strawberry through a trail of syrup. "None of that stuff exists here."
"The ocean does," Carina retorted smartly. "I saw it."
"The Atlantic Ocean," Port corrected, pointing his fork for emphasis. "It's October. You'll freeze to death if you try swimming it."
"I'm sure we can find something to do at the beach," said Emma practically, trying to diffuse the argument as Carina's widened like saucers. "And we're surrounded by the forest, Port. Maybe we could try hiking."
Porter huffed.
"I don't like hiking," said Carina defiantly
"Of course you don't," muttered Porter.
"You've never been, Care Bear," Emma reminded her softly, "you might like it."
But really, she didn't know if they could, realistically, get to any of that. If they wanted to get home in time for school in the morning they would have to leave before dark.
(More than likely, though, they would have to take a sick day.)
The fighting, however, continued to escalate. Porter and Carina didn't fight often. Not like this anyway. Porter would sometimes get annoyed when she interrupted time with his friends to try and participate in things she didn't really like, but he usually did more than just tolerate her presence, the pair usually taking joy in each other's company, Porter maintaining that protective big brother instinct that had started when he first started helping her.
Today, however, his mood had made him especially grouchy. To the point that he didn't care who he took it out on. The bear became the first casualty, a spilled mug of hot chocolate landing all over the toy, Carina immediately crying out in alarm.
"Marmy," she complained, scooching back on the seat in the effort to avoid the dripping liquid, shooting Port an unhappy look as she held the bear, dripping chocolate and whipped cream, by one ear. "You did that on purpose."
She could feel the nosey eyes of diner patrons on them as she grabbed a bunch of napkins from the dispenser, throwing them on the spill as Granny's granddaughter (Ruby, right?) approached the table with a wet washcloth.
"Port, you have got to be more careful," Emma chided, offering Ruby a grateful (if somewhat distracted) smile as she took the washcloth, wiping down the booth first. "What if that had still been hot? You could have hurt your sister."
He at least had the sense to look down guiltily as he mumbled an apology to Carina, but before Emma had the chance to comment that she knew he hadn't meant it, she had a chocolate-drenched teddy shoved under her nose. "Marmy, you have to do something."
She looked helplessly at the waitress. "Do you-"
"Washroom's in the back," said Ruby, pointing off to the side, "I'll get these guys set up at another table."
Emma left with a pointed be good as she rushed off to save the worn bear (a weekly even and one of the few mementos Carina still had of her biological mother), apologizing as she noted the maid trying to get a handle on an oversize sheet. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute. We just had a bit of a, uh, teddy emergency."
"No rush," she said, pleasantly enough, a badly folded sheet getting set aside to reveal a very pregnant belly.
Emma nodded at her, offering a bright, "Congratulations," as she wrung out the bear, perhaps a bit of her own desire shining through (even in spite of her own completely harrowing morning). A smile nearly appeared, her lips inching upwards, before immediately falling causing Emma to privately curse at her own stupid assumption. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"
She shook her head, blonde hair flying around in her lopsided bun-slash-ponytail. "No, it's … I'm not …" Her shoulders slumped, the girl deflating, as she struggled to stammer out a conclusion before she looked at Emma dead on with a hurt expression and eyes that sang of desperation. " Not one person said that to me when I told them."
Emma frowned, hands tightening around the teddy. "Congratulations?"
She shook her head before pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "And they're right, of course. I'm just a teenager. What do I –"
Emma should have, most likely, just minded her own business. Because really, the longer she left Carina and Porter alone, the higher the chances were of another disaster. But this was Emma's job. She helped people like this young woman every day. Young people who very clearly felt like they didn't have a say in their own life, but desperately wanted it. People who deserved it.
"I was too," she told her, throwing the bear into the dryer, giving it a few minutes to dry, adding at the look of confusion, "when I had my son. I was just a teenager too."
"You were?"
"Yeah," said Emma, taking up the corner of the sheet, smiling softly. "Now, uh, what's your name?"
"Ashley," she said, stepping back, managing to stretch the sheet, successfully straightening it out.
"Ashley," repeated Emma, and again, maybe she should just mind her own business. But Ashley hadn't told her to butt out and while she hadn't come to her for help, not exactly, Emma sensed something. Like reluctance and unhappiness and se really couldn't help herself. "Now I obviously don't know your situation. But I can say that I didn't think I could do it either. I would keep repeating all the reasons why in my head. To remind myself that I wasn't the mothering type. I did a helluva a job at it too. But in the process I forgot to think about one very important thing."
The way Ashley looked at her? It was as if she expected Emma to share the secret to life. "What?"
"What I wanted as a little girl," said Emma, walking the corners of the sheet back to Ashley, nodding at her, "I mean. It sounds like you have a family, of sorts."
"Not really," she muttered bitterly as finished folding. "Just a step-mother and her two daughters. And they're not … they don't like me very much." Ashley shrugged. "It's mutual."
Emma offered a smile, one of understanding as they started on another sheet. "I never had anyone. I was just a scared little girl who only wanted one thing. Family. A mother. Love. "
Ashely rubbed her cheek on her shoulder, swallowing thickly at just the mention of mother. "Do you think those things are really enough though? I mean, I'm just a maid. I didn't finish school. And the father … he doesn't want anything to do with me."
Emma smiled tightly. "Yeah, I do. But not until I stopped thinking like that. I mean, obviously, I don't know you that well. But you, Ashley, are the only one who can decide if you're enough for your child."
"Even if I did," said Ashley, admitting reluctantly, "It's too late."
"It's never too late," said Emma pointedly. "Not yet. If you want your baby, Ashley … if you think you're ready for that sort of responsibility then you need to take whatever is holding you back and just get rid of it. Stand up. Punch back. Just do whatever you need to do in order to overcome the doubt. You'll feel so much better when you do. Everything will be so much clearer."
Emma saw it. Something in Ashley changed then as she understood exactly what Emma had meant, realization crossing her features as ideas formed, building an action plan to overcome her own demons. No one, not even Emma, could help Ashley with that. But everything else?
"And after," said Emma, pulling a card out of her pocket, handing over her name and number, "feel free to give me a call. I'll help you stay on the right track."
"Thank you," Ashley glanced down at the card as Emma pulled the only slightly less damp bear from the dryer, "Emma."
She smiled, squeezing Ashley's shoulder as she passed her on the way. "Good luck."
She found the booth easily enough, presenting the stuffed bear with a flourish, Carina excitedly thanked her, Emma barely hearing her, eyes catching a glimpse of the day's headline from a paper left behind at the next table.
"Guess what, Marmy," said Carina as Emma grabbed at the newspaper, squinting at it through her glasses, blinking rapidly at the article that sat alongside a picture announcing Broken Clock-Tower Finally Chimes. But sometime in the night, John Doe had woken up.
Son of a bitch. She couldn't have … Could she?
Carina poked her impatiently and Emma blinked, turning her attention back to her daughter. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"There was another girl here, Marmy. And guess what?" She paused for dramatic effect as Porter took up the abandoned newspaper. "She was adopted too. She thought it was really weird that we're here though. She said no one ever visits Storybrooke. Not ever, Marmy."
"Well, they are a bit off the beaten path," commented Emma, doing her best to ignore Porter's own confused gaze as he looked between her and the paper, instead distracting herself with thoughts of the directions she had given Neal, hoping that the didn't have too much trouble finding the place. She barely remembered the route she took, mostly recalling strange landmarks, her busy thoughts the day before prompting her to take turns at random.
And he did get there. Well after the promised late afternoon, Emma exhausted after a day dealing with Porter's sour mood and several failed attempts at trying to find anything to keep the kids entertained (an impossible task in a small town full of exactly nothing). But eventually Neal pulled up in their SUV, horn honking, the car unmistakably modern against a backdrop of vintage and rustic vehicles.
"Dad!" Porter shouted, showing the first sign of a smile as he ran out of Granny's, rushing to greet him at the curb, Carina following excitedly behind, curious late-night patrons turning their head toward the window as Emma wasted time, moving to the counter to pay, eyes glancing to the window as Neal climbed out of the car, a big grin on his face as both Porter and Carina rushed into his outstretched arms.
Ruby let out an appreciative whistle, drawing Emma's attention back to the register to collect her change before she walked toward the scene outside, her stomach doing nervous flips despite knowing that she and Neal had ended their conversation on more than good terms the night before.
As if sensing her presence Neal's eyes met hers, his nose buried in Carina's shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around the kids. As if he had missed months or years instead of just the day and Emma bit her lip, hating that he had well and truly assumed the worst, her need for space and time to think had gotten twisted inside his head, turning into an abandonment, perhaps fueled by her own anger, Emma too hurt by a supposed a betrayal she didn't quite understand to see what she was doing.
But she knew. Watching him embrace his children? She knew him. His past and whatever the hell he believed in? It didn't matter. This was Neal. Her husband and the father of their children who would do anything to protect his family. She never had to doubt that.
He pressed a fervent kiss to Carina's head and then Porter's before straightening, offering her a nod and a gentle smile.
"Hey," he said, the simple word heavy and weighted down, carrying the burden of the past few days.
"Hi," she said, feeling young and uncertain and yet relieved too. Because, despite everything, he was here.
Carina, wide-eyed, bounced her curious gaze between them as if watching a particularly intense tennis match while Porter tugged impatiently on his father's hand, desperately trying to pull him back in the direction of the diner.
"You have to meet Granny Lucas, Dad," Porter said, Neal breaking eye contact to give him his full attention. "She makes the best hamburgers ever."
Neal faked a pout, following dutifully behind his children. "Better than mine?"
Porter gave a noncommittal shrug, leading them back to a table, adding, "She has an inn too. That's where we spent the night." He scrunched his nose. "It kinda smells like pine."
"And cats," said Carina, before tugging on Neal's sleeve. "Daddy, guess what?"
Neal turned his attention to her as he slid into a booth. "What's that, Care Bear?"
"I made a new friend today," she told him, settling with her feet under her (a habit both Emma and Neal had yet to successfully discourage). "Her name is Etta and she's adopted too."
Neal raised a finger, flagging down Ruby (Emma really should have considered just opening a tab), as he asked curiously, "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," Carina confirmed, nodding. "But she doesn't even have a daddy and her mom doesn't like her very much."
Emma frowned at this piece of information, wondering why Carina could have possibly neglected to share this piece of information and how the girls could have possibly exchanged the amount of details they had in the ten minutes she had taken to clean the teddy bear and talk to Ashley.
"Maybe you can get her address then," he suggested, not missing a beat, "send her a letter every once in a while. Like pen pals."
Check in was unspoken but seemed almost implied, as he nodded at Ruby. "My kids recommend the hamburger."
"She's the Mayor's kid," she supplied, scribbling on the pad. "Henrietta Mills, I mean. I'm surprised she took a liking to you as quickly as she did. She's a bit of loner."
"Sometimes you just need a common ground," said Emma pleasantly, catching Neal's eyes, thinking back to when they first met Carina. How quiet she'd been. Even Emma had been a bit stand-offish before Neal had managed to break through her walls.
He smiled back. Genuine, she thought, and the same smile he always reserved just for her. Emma could find anything to suggest something lingered beneath the surface anyway and when he turned to Ruby, it shifted to something a bit more courteous as she left them with a promise that his food would be out soon. Finally, the smile shifted to something indulgent but loving as he turned his attention back to Porter, who had started hitting his arm frantically. "Yeah, Port?"
"We saw a wolf," he told him.
Neal raised an amused brow, grinning. "I heard."
"It was huge," Carina chimed in dramatically.
"It was standing right in the middle of the road," said Porter, beginning to motion wildly with his hands. "We had to swerve to avoid it and Mo-"
He trailed off, seeming to remember that he wasn't speaking to her, not even to acknowledge her expertise in wolf-swerving tactics. Neal sensed this and, to avoid an awkward moment, asked the next obvious question.
"Was it scary?"
Porter immediately shook his head, but Carina nodded. "It looked right at us, Daddy. And howled."
Neal slapped a hand to his chest and gasped, letting out an overly dramatic. "Oh my." But beneath the surface, Emma could see a hint of unspoken fear, his jaw tense with the knowledge that they had gotten lucky and that things could have been much more serious.
Porter, however, only shrugged bravely before saying, quite practically, "It wouldn't have gotten in the car."
The conversation went on like this for some time, Porter and Carina sharing every little thing they could remember of their time on the road – from the insignificant details of each meal to the dramatic passing of a three car pile-up on the freeway before finishing with a dramatic retelling of the clock tower's first chime in as long as anyone can remember.
"No one was even working on it," Porter explained. "That's what Marco said – he's like a handyman or something. But it must have started working all on its own. Isn't that weird?"
In turn, they asked about home and if he remembered to DVR their favorite shows ("Yes, of course.") and if he changed his mind about bringing Phang, worried that he might get lonely ("He's still back home, Care, but don't worry Uncle Leo and Aunt Effie promised to take good care of him.").
"Do you wanna go see the beach?" Porter asked. "We're right on the coast."
" Now you want to see the beach," huffed Carina while Emma stated the obvious. "We can't now. It's dark."
Neal ruffled his hair. "Maybe later, Sport, that drive wore me out." He nodded at Emma. "It's a wonder you even stumbled on this place. If I hadn't spotted that broken down windmill –"
"Oh, the yellow one?" said Emma, feeling comfortable enough to steal a fry from the plate that Ruby had brought over some time ago. "With the –" She made a vague gesture to indicate the inappropriate graffiti.
"That one," he confirmed, "it was lucky you mentioned it or else I would have missed that last turn. I didn't see one sign for the place on the way here."
She hadn't paid enough attention, really, to notice the lack of signs. If she had Emma would have liked to think she would have had enough sense to turn around.
She itched with the need to talk to him and desperately she hoped that Neal wasn't too tired to talk. Because she still had so much she needed to say and he had promised he would share with her as well.
And, as if reading her mind, he nudged Porter, asking him to stand. "I'm gonna go pay. Maybe see if we can get a second room."
Right .
She nodded, trying not to look too disappointed. She had thought, maybe, even if he was still too tired to talk … well, all that stuff about not being able to sleep without her. He must have sensed this too because he bent down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, murmuring, "For the kids, baby."
The room they got the kids was connected to theirs, Neal reminding Porter and Carina that they would only knock on that door, and the one leading into the hall should remain locked (barring emergency). They tucked them both in, Porter finally, but only at his father's prompting, muttering a disgruntled "Goodnight" at her as she kissed his cheek while Carina whispered a worried, "Are you and Daddy all better now?" as Emma loosened the covers, untucking them from the mattress.
(They always knew.)
Neal leaned down, playfully pressing his nose to hers, causing Carina to giggle uncontrollably.
"We are," he promised her, "all's forgiven. Nothing for you to worry about." He slipped something out of his pocket. The iPod Emma realized. "To help you sleep."
They walked into the next room in silence Emma, tense and uncertain, leading the way, shooting nervous glances behind her, finding Neal's eyes, intense and impossible to read, trained directly on her, the door clicking shut behind Neal, who reached blindly behind him, turning the lock.
"Neal," she started hesitantly, rubbing sweaty palms over her jeans as she tried to think of where to start.
Neal, however, only shook his head as he approached her. "After."
Right. He was tired. Of course.
But rather than climb right into bed, he was right there, a breath away, fingers sliding her glasses off, setting them to the side and the next moment Neal's mouth found hers, hands pulling her body flush against his, the surprise of it causing her to gasp, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring, fingers threading through her hair as she clutched the lapels of his jacket, nice and tight, as if letting go meant he would simply disappear.
She worried though. About getting caught up in him when they had precious little time for a conversation they desperately needed to have.
" After."
"Hm?" she asked and oh, the teeth thing, she liked that.
"We'll talk," he promised. " After. "
"How did you –"
"Your brain never stops."
His lips wore a hint of a smile and he had that same intense look on his face. Only this time, rather than add to her nerves, it caused her face to flush.
"Besides, baby," he murmured, nose brushing across her cheek. "We made up. Last night. Remember?"
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed as he brushed soft kisses across her cheek, finding her jaw. "But a lot can happen in a day."
"Yes," he agreed, suddenly quite serious, pulling back forcing Emma to reluctantly open her eyes at his sudden absence. "But not today." He pressed his lips to hers once more, kissing her languidly, a moan eventually escaping her throat. "Which makes this long overdue."
Well, then.
"Maybe you should try harder to distract me then."
He gave her a heated kiss, breaking apart to tug off his shirt and Emma removed her own, meeting him back in the middle, kissing him, hot and frantic, tongues battling because she couldn't help it. Because the fact that he could still stand to touch her and kiss her and make love to her told Emma that things would be okay. Because what Neal had said to Carina had been true – they had forgiven each other.
All frantic and desperation, they kissed, kicking of shoes and pants and underwear, weaving a scattered path towards the bed, Neal falling onto the mattress, Emma following him and straddling his hips, sliding onto his length because she couldn't wait. She absolutely could not stand the fact of not having him inside her a moment longer because even if it hadn't only been a handful of hours since they'd last been together, the epic-ness of their fight made it feel so much longer, creating a distance bigger than the one inflicted on them during their weekends apart during the lead-up to New York.
The pace she set remained frantic and hurried, Emma wanting to feel the strength of the connection in every way possible, fighting his mouth in a bruising kiss, then his jaw, neck, shoulders while Neal latched onto her breasts, tongue and teeth forging paths, hands settling on her hips when exhaustion began to wear on her, sitting up with her, wrapping her legs around his waist until they were flush against each other, bringing the pace to a slow grind, her need for reassurance shifting into his need for connection.
While not nearly as physically demanding, it was still intense. In a different sort of way. The kind that still did a fine job of robbing her of air and between short, gasping breaths she murmured a desperate, "I love you," and then "I'm sorry," as Neal sucked on a spot somewhere near her heart.
He brushed his lips across hers, soft and fleeting. "I love you," he echoed. "And I'm sorry too."
She deepened the kiss, some of that earlier desperateness returning, rocking her hips against his as Neal's hand found its way between her thighs, helping her along until finally she fell over the edge, squeezing muscles that took Neal with her not long after.
After she rolled off of him, landing on her back in the effort to catch her breath before she crawled into his side, legs tangling with his, hand weaving its way through chest hair as she felt Neal's lips pressed against her temple. Blankets were scrunched between them and they were both sweaty and sticky, but that didn't exactly matter right then.
(Even if there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she neglected something.)
"We are okay, Emma," Neal told her, voice barely a whisper. "I may not like what you did, but that doesn't mean I don't understand why you did it. We just –" Emma glanced up at him sharply, expecting a but, "we need to get better at the whole telling each other what's bothering us thing. That's always been our issue, hasn't it? We let things simmer until they can't help but bubble up. This one just happened to be bigger than the rest."
Emma averted her eyes, focusing on their hands as his fingers weaved through hers. Talking about her feelings, especially the ugly ones, was always a scary thing. Particularly when she couldn't articulate them in exactly the way she wanted to. Things would just come out in a garbled mess that distracted from the point as she dug herself a bigger hole. But Neal was right. They needed to try.
"It hurt, Neal," she started. "That after twelve years you'd talk to a complete stranger before talking to me. That you'd let this man into our home and just listen to what he had to say and accept it as fact. That his word was enough to just question everything that we built together."
"Question it? Emma." He shifted them, turning on his side that he could look at her dead on. "If I made you think that then I'm sorry. But I never questioned anything."
"But you thought it," Emma insisted and the downward shift of his eyes told her that she was, at the very least on the right track, "I know you and when that man told you he knew where my parents were, you thought that whatever we have was somehow insignificant when compared to what they could give me. As if the reason they gave me up could somehow erase twenty-eight years of not knowing and feeling unloved and unwanted and all that other crap I went through. As if it would somehow change who I was. As if being from the same place as you, wherever the fuck that is, would somehow taint me."
"Maybe," admitted Neal, his jaw tense, "Maybe I did begin to have doubts. So what? They didn't last. Not beyond 'how the hell am I going to help you do this without risking the kids' or 'how the hell am I going to help you if I can't even stand the thought of facing my father.'"
"But that's just it, isn't it?" It felt like they had moved backwards, suddenly smack dab in the middle of the argument again, and Emma absolutely hated that, but she also couldn't stop herself. It was as if saying these things helped lift a burden that she hadn't even realized she was carrying. "We don't have to the risk our kids and you don't have to face your father. You only think that we do because you're taking some drunk lunatic at his word."
Neal's brow furrowed. "He knew things, Emma, about you and me that he couldn't possibly know."
"Yeah," Emma agreed, nodding, "and he did absolutely nothing to earn those things. Or our trust now."
There was a long pause before Neal exhaled. "You're right."
"I am?"
She looked at him critically, trying to gage if he meant that or if he was just saying that because he was as tired of the fighting as she was.
"Emma I don't regret talking to him. I regret not telling you first, I should have done it so many times, but … I needed to know what he knew. I needed to know if our family was in danger. I couldn't kick him out without getting that information first. But you're right. I shouldn't have taken everything he said on faith. Not without talking to you first."
Emma accepted his words with a sad nod, teeth biting down on her bottom lip, brows burrowing together in a question gaze. "Your father? He's really that dangerous."
Neal sighed. This heavy thing. "Yeah."
"Tell me."
"Em –" he started reluctantly.
"No," she said, "look, here's the thing. Magic is real. I get that. And no, I don't believe in this … curse , thing. I just … I've tried, Neal, but I can't wrap my head around it. But I believe in you. I know that now and I'm sorry that I doubted it. But now there's this whole part of you that I don't know … that I've never known and as hard as it is for me to understand I should be the one person you can talk to about this. So help me understand. Tell me everything. I'm ready to listen now. I promise."
"Okay," he smiled lightly, tucking sweaty hair behind her ear. "You know the gist of it, really, it's just the details are different."
And, once more, they talked through most of the night.
He weaved an elaborate tale of all sorts of ridiculous things. And honestly, Emma didn't know what to make of most of it. Despite having obviously seen it, she still didn't really understand how magic worked or even how it could just exist. Then add in things like parallel worlds and characters from stories she had grown up actually existing and well, it made her head spin.
The oddest of them all, for example? Neal's father.
"Your father is Rumpelstiltskin?" she had questioned at the reveal, her tone a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Neal snorted, "well, wait to you hear about your parents."
Any traces of amusement fell. "Don't tell me."
If August had told Neal the truth, Emma didn't want to know. She hadn't in years, honestly, and the fact the information was suddenly available did nothing to spark her curiosity.
"You never said why," he told her.
"Because I don't want to know," she said, somewhat petulantly.
"No," he said. "Why you gave up looking? You just stopped one day."
"And good thing too," said Emma flatly, thinking back to her conversation with Ashley earlier that morning. "I couldn't have done it, Neal. If I never let them go I could have never been what Porter needed."
Neal frowned. "What does that have to do with you being a good mother –"
"Everything, Neal. Because I couldn't stop thinking about what they did. Everything that one, stupid decision took from me and all the things I didn't understand because of it. I didn't know about family, Neal. I barely understood love. The bigger this life inside me got, the closer I felt to him. I loved him even when I didn't want to let myself. And I couldn't understand why they didn't. It hurt and I was bitter and I needed that fresh start, babe. I mean, that's what Tallahassee was about, wasn't it."
"Yeah."
"So I put them behind me," she said, "And I don't regret it. I know what you think, Neal. Because of what August told you. But it's too little, too late. I mean, you said it yourself. That even if it wasn't your father that cast the curse, it sounded like it had his fingerprints all over it. So if it turns out that he came here to find you then could you forgive him for letting you go?"
He had told her about that too. The whole story about the portal and his father breaking his promise, letting him go. Her heart broke for him as she imagined how scary that must have been. To not only have his father choose magic over him, but to have to start over, alone, in a brand new world.
A haunted look passed over Neal's face. "No."
"We have our family now, Neal," said Emma firmly. "They come first. That's all that matters. Which," her tone switched on a dime, becoming lighter, "we need to figure out what to tell the kids. Because we have to tell them something. I can't … I hate not talking to Porter."
And lying to both of the kids would just make everything worse.
(He would have to talk to her eventually, wouldn't he?)
"He'll come around," Neal told her, sounding confident in the declaration.
"Easy for you to say," Emma muttered disgruntledly, sour over the whole thing. "He'll obviously pick you in the divorce."
Neal hadn't found this at all amusing, jaw growing tense as she tried to explain away the joke.
"You just had a very human moment, Emma, and you acted out of fear," he said, sighing after she had stumbled over an apology, "it's hard for kids when they suddenly realize their parents aren't actually superheroes."
That seemed worse, almost, but Neal agreed that they would have to tell them and just, "Save the gory details for later."
Like her parents. And Neal agreed that, if she really wanted to, they would leave that part out.
She really did.
"Some birthday, huh?" Neal murmured and Emma smiled tightly, turning, brushing her nose against his. "Wanna see if we can get some sleep before the kids start pounding on the door."
"Yeah," she murmured, curling, if possible, even further into him. Neal fell asleep almost right away, and eventually after listening to his slow, even breaths, she followed him, plagued by odd dreams of purple smoke and swirling green portals.