Self-doubt and blame plagued Neal often enough, usually enhanced by fear, but even at his worst Neal couldn't match the numbers Emma would do on herself when she got stuck inside her own head, her thoughts zeroing in on the negatives and worst case scenarios in a way that warped everything.

Even a decision they had made with the utmost confidence not even a day and a half ago.

"You didn't happen to remember the medicine bag, did you?" Emma asked, a guilty expression on her face as she stepped out of the bathroom, mouth still half-full of toothpaste. It was barely seven and they'd already been up for an hour, Carina knocking on the door, teary-eyed and a wet mess.

"No," Neal murmured, fiddling with Carina's ipod, which had drowned in a spilled glass of water earlier that morning. Her words, however, seemed to register because he glanced up as she spit into the sink and asked, concerned, "Why? Are you sick?"

"No," she said, rinsing off her toothbrush and stepping back into the room after wiping her mouth on a towel. "But I've miss my past two …" She finished with a vague gesture and a significant look that, Neal supposed, meant he should have no problem interpreting the code. Instead he continued to look at her blankly.

"Birth control pills," she burst out, a worried expression settling over her features. "This'll be day three."

"That was the plan, wasn't it," Neal asked, his features scrunching together in confusion, the ipod getting set aside. "We were going to –"

He shot her his own significant look.

"Well, yeah," she said sheepishly, "but I thought … well, we had that fight."

"I remember some pretty epic battles before Port was born too," Neal reminded her and he wouldn't say it, but most of them had started over some pretty petty shit. A side effect, he supposed, of several different things. Like their separate insecurities and the stress of starting a new lifestyle and, of course, not having any space of their own to retreat to when emotions got high.

Her hair suffered the effects of her guilt as she ran a brush through harshly, muttering. "Yes, but I didn't run away then."

She had wanted to though.

Instead he rescued her hair from the brush and said, somewhat flippantly, "Emma, you were barely gone for twelve hours." She sighed and Neal pressed a palm to her cheek, Emma nuzzling his hand. "I've forgiven you remember. Like you've forgiven me."

But he knew Emma would have a harder time putting this behind her. Neal could forgive and forget mostly, his anger making a loud entrance before he just sort of buried, eager to move on. But Emma held onto things, letting them fester and even when she'd say she had moved on, a seed would still linger, planting doubt. He imagined she had a thousand of those, hibernating in the back of her mind that sprouted in full force, clouding her thoughts as she tried to sort through everything that had happened in the wake of Booth's arrival, inevitably causing the situation to escalate. And while finally talking through it would have managed to trim back the weeds that had taken over, he knew it'd would be a while before Emma had complete control over what grew and what didn't.

She sighed. "Everything's different now though."

Neal leaned his forehead against hers. "Emma, look, if you don't want –"

"I do," she said quickly, the words bursting out of her in a way that caused Neal to smile. "It's not that."

"Okay then, me too," Neal murmured, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to the bed, threading their fingers together as they sat. "We had a bump, baby. The Argo hit some rough waters if you will." Emma rolled her eyes. "But I think we've only come out stronger because of it. I mean, I'd say we know each other better now, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," she agreed, her gaze focused intently on their entwined hands.

"So," he started slowly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "The different thing is that we've matured as a couple." Emma pressed her cheek into her shoulder, a slight blush creeping up her face. "I haven't changed my mind. If anything this whole thing just cemented it. I never doubted you, of course, but now I know. Know that you'll do whatever it takes to protect the kids."

She was silent for a moment, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, before she looked at him. "I know too," she said intently. "That'd you'd never do anything hurt the kids. I know I said I didn't, but with everything …"

"I know , Em," he told her. "I had my doubts too, remember?" She had aptly pointed most of them out. "But I came back to my senses. Because I know how this," he knocked his head lightly against hers, "works. And I knew you'd get there too. It just took a bit more space than usual."

And a good chunk of that was on him. His own stupid insecurities had pushed him into trying to control the situation, pushing Emma away so that he could tell her on his terms when really he should have accepted that he'd wasted a decade and had lost that right to tell her himself.

Her lips twitched, inching up into a smile as she gave an understanding nod, but if she planned to say anything else it got cut off by an insistent knock on the adjoining door. "Yes," she said loudly, leaning back to look behind her.

Carina cracked the door open, peaking her head in. "Marmy, is Granny's open now ?"

"It should be, sweetheart," said Emma, after she glanced at the clock. "Just give Daddy and me a minute so we can finished getting dressed."

Neal barely managed to suppress an amused snort as Carina's eyes practically half-popped out of her head in annoyed disbelief, loudly bemoaning the fact that she was starving to death as she fell back into her and Port's room. And as the door clicked shut it only took one look between them before they both fell into a fit of laughter.

Carina made a valiant attempt to order the whole menu once they made it downstairs, claiming that she was that hungry, Emma nearly following suit before Neal chimed in, offering to give her a sausage link off his plate if she absolutely had to have the bacon and the sausage. He even offered a wink, as if sharing a private joke, but he had sat down unhappily, chin settled on the palm of his hand, sighing heavily ever once in a while. A clear sign that he had something to say and yet ignoring Emma anytime she asked. Finally, Emma nudged him sometime after their food finally arrived, giving a discreet nod in Porter's direction.

"What's wrong, Sport," he asked quietly.

"I have a soccer game on Wednesday," Porter said poking his eggs with a fork. "And Couch Winters doesn't like it when we miss class."

Carina spoke up, her mouth full of bacon. "And I have ballet tomorrow. "

"We're leaving today," Emma promised, cutting into her waffles. "Soon as the car's fixed."

"That's too bad."

Neal froze, his blood running cold as he lost control of his limbs, his legs shaking beneath the table, with enough force to knock it, causing plates and glasses to teeter dangerously, Emma catching the glass of milk Carina had left too close to the edge, but knocking a mug full of hot chocolate with her elbow, his hand becoming a casualty. He just managed to suppress a pained cuss, instead hissing inward as he snatched his hand back toward his chest, Emma looking back alarmed.

"Oh, fu- fudge ," she muttered, grabbing a napkin and dunking it in a glass of water, "I'm sorry, babe." She set the makeshift cloth on his hand bringing it down on the booth between them, squeezing reassuringly, before she sent a distracted a look over her shoulder. "Did you need something … uh, Mr. Gold, wasn't it?"

Neal pointedly kept his gaze on their hands. He didn't need to look to know who stood at the edge of the table, instead busying himself with mopping up the rest of the hot chocolate, Porter handing him a wad of napkins, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Yes," he said and Neal tried to repress the urge to flinch. "And I see you've rounded out your party."

"Right," said Emma carefully, "this is my husband, John. John this is Mr. Gold."

Clever girl.

"A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Neilson," said Mr. Gold and Neal might have managed what looked like a distracted nod but in reality the gesture went to Porter.

"Wanna grab some more napkins off that table for me, Sport."

"It's a shame you have to leave so soon though, Mrs. Neilson," continued Mr. Gold as Porter scrambled, turning right around at his request while Neal felt Emma's hand squeeze his. Carina, for her part, had barely looked up from her plate, still stuffing her face. "It seems you've become something of a good luck charm for our little town."

Emma snorted. "Ah, yes, crashing into signs and spilling hot chocolate over poor Granny Lucas's tables. Twice. Regular old sign of luck there."

"I was referring to the clock tower, actually," said Mr. Gold and Neal accepted the napkins from Porter, cleaning up was now a mostly invisible mess and desperately wishing Emma would find a way to wrap up this conversation. "I don't know if you heard but it started working shortly after you arrived."

Time starting again, Neal realized. Of course.

"And, of course, our mysterious John Doe awoke that very night as well," he continued and Neal blinked. "You spent some time in the local hospital shortly after arriving, didn't you?"

"Er, yeah," admitted Emma, somewhat reluctantly. "Just a check-up. We heard about John though. It's, uh, great that he woke up, really. It's, um, rare after you've been in a coma for that long."

Unless you had Emma around.

"Rare, indeed," agreed Mr. Gold .

"We should probably get going actually," said Emma. Finally. Neal had managed to busy himself with his omelet, but didn't even attempt to eat it. He had officially lost his appetite. "See if we can hurry Mr. Tillman along if we want to make it back in time for school in the morning."

"And ballet," said Carina, rejoining the conversation, her plate officially empty. That could mean a really good thing or a really bad thing.

"But of course," said Mr. Gold, "a proper education is a wonderful thing. I've always been particularly fond of this town's own school system myself. They hire only the finest teachers. Take Ms. Blanchard for example, both sweet and fair, always willing to go above and beyond for her children."

The words dripped with a double meaning that Neal had become all too familiar with once upon a time. And as he followed his line of sight to a mousy looking woman in the corner Neal would bet he had just laid eyes on Emma's mother.

He pulled a pen out of his jacket and, without even really trying to be discreet, scribbled something on one of the still dry napkins, passing it along to Porter.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Porter announced brightly and Carina, bless her heart, immediately echoed the sentiment. Though that probably meant they would have to make a pit stop.

"And that's our cue," announced Emma, her hand sliding off his as she climbed to her feet and Neal deposited the wet napkin on his plate, pulling out a few extra bills for the poor waitress that would have to clean up their mess. "It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Gold."

"And you, Mrs. Neilson," said Mr. Gold . "Mr. Neilson. I can't say how refreshing it is to see a young couple that take their responsibilities so seriously."

"Thanks," said Emma carefully, smiling tightly as helped Carina into her jacket. She glanced behind her before turning on Neal. "So was that just me or were you not your usual charismatic self just now."

"We need to go," said Neal, a hand landing on Porter's shoulder, guiding him forward more than anything else.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Carina reminded them, lagging a bit, bouncing slightly as she tried to tug Emma in the other direction.

"You can go at the mechanic's," Neal murmured, lifting her easily and settling her on a hip before his hand landed back on Port's shoulder, setting a brisk pace. "Just keep walking."

" Neal."

"In a minute, Em," he said and he hadn't meant them to sound snappish, but Carina's outraged gasp told him that he had. But he should have known . He should have realized what this place actually was. Or at least not let his guard down. Because he knew how these things worked. And if a prophecy said twenty-eight, then it got twenty-eight. Never mind if the birthday girl believed in curses or had even accepted her role as savior. But as much as he should care about that, he could only focus his father. He'd imagine this moment, over and over again, one of those impossible things that played out in the back of his mind where he got to say this perfect thing about moving on.

Which, most definitely, did not involve nearly flipping the table over because he couldn't stop shaking.

Carina squirmed slightly and said, "Too tight, Daddy, I really do have to go to the bathroom."

"Sorry, Care Bear," he murmured, loosening his grip somewhat, pressing his lips to the top of his head.

Mr. Gold had all of his memories. Neal would bet his life on it. His statements held a certain pointedness to them and, really, he wouldn't endure twenty-eight years trapped in one place without some sort of loophole. He also clearly wanted Emma to stay. Which meant, he had to assume, that he wanted her to break the curse. And generally, when the Dark One wanted something, he didn't care about collateral damage.

Like the car.

Or the kids.

"I'll take Carina," said Emma, lifting her out of his arms, "why don't you check in with Mr. Tillman."

She didn't seem mad. About the snapping thing. Just concerned.

Tillman shared the news that the car shouldn't take much more than an hour.

He breathed deeply, leaning back against the counter.

"Are you alright, Dad?" Porter asked, already settled into one of chairs meant for waiting customers.

Neal slumped a bit and put on a smile. "I'm fine, Port."

"I'm almost ten, Dad," he said, rolling his eyes, "I can tell when something is going on and both you and Mom have been off for days."

"We're gonna talk to you about it once we're back home," Neal promised, and when Porter raised a skeptical eyebrow that reminded him wholly of Emma, he added, "That's not a line, Sport. This just isn't the place to do it."

"Because the town's weird?" asked Porter, his legs swinging. "Or because of that creepy guy at the diner?"

"Both," said Neal, silently praising his son's observation skills. He'd do alright out in the world. "And Port, if you're mad at your mother on my behalf then you shouldn't be. She did exactly what I would have done."

What he wanted to do right now.

Porter's thirst for conversation died and he gave an exaggerated shrug but before he could push it, Carina came running out, Emma following behind. Neal stepped in her, jerking his head towards the door. "Can we –"

"Yeah," said Emma glancing at Port and Carina, who was sorting through magazine trying to fit one for her needs. "Kids. Stay put."

"I'm sorry about," he started as soon as the door shut behind them but Emma shook her head.

"Something spooked you," noted Emma and she squeezed her eyes shut. "And I feel ridiculous because I think I know who it was and it's impossible for so many different reasons –"

"It's him," Neal confirmed, taking a quick look around and, despite seeing no one, taking a step closer just in case, whispering. "That man. Gold. He's my father."

Emma blinked rapidly for a moment and then grabbed both his hands, squeezing as she gave him an intense look. "Are you okay?"

Honestly? "No."

Emma gave an understanding albeit somewhat distracted nod, before saying, quite practically. "Well, he didn't recognize you. And, according to Booth, he probably doesn't even know he has a son."

"He remembers," said Neal, his jaw tensing as he felt Emma squeeze his hands again. "Every single thing he said was dripping in double meaning."

Emma looked doubtful. "I think he was just making small talk."

Neal shook his head, "No. That's not how he works. Everything's a manipulation. To get what he wants. And he wants you to break the curse. It's why we can't leave the car."

Emma pressed her lips together, nodding, falling silent for a minute. "So this town?"

"Yes," said Neal darkly, his body made up of nothing but tense lines. "Destiny's a bitch."

"Well, we're leaving," she said simply, "so it didn't win."

He must have nodded a bit too frantically, because she bumped him with her shoulder and, much softer, "We're leaving. He didn't recognize you. No one's gonna touch the kids. But," she continued, her tone taking on a different sort of seriousness, "maybe you should go ahead. Take the kids home in the SUV. I'll wait on the car."

Neal pressed his lips together. "I don't wanna leave you here alone."

She let go of one of his hands, weaving her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, pressing her forehead against his. "I can see how scared you are Neal," she murmured, no trace of judgement in her voice. "So even if I only understand bits and pieces, I think we can both agree that we don't want the kids here. So take them. They need to get ready for school tomorrow anyway. They've missed too much already."

" Emma ," he breathed.

She brushed her lips over his. "It won't be long."

A part of him desperately wished he could just suck it up and put his fears behind him and wait it out with Emma. If only because he knew that she didn't take the threat as seriously as she probably should. But his instincts … that old fight or flight mentality … it screamed at him to take the kids and run.

He couldn't risk the kids.

"You'll be careful?" Neal asked, looking at her intensely, urging her to see how seriously he wanted her to take this situation.

She held his gaze and said, " Always. "

"I'll go back to Granny's and get us checked out," he said, focusing on the soothing feeling of her thumb moving back and forth over the nape of his neck, "pack up the car and then swing around for the kids."

"You'll be alright?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, before giving in, kissing her with desperate passion, pulling back when he could feel her begin to hesitate, the public display verging on too much.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"He didn't recognize you," she reminded him pointedly.

He swallowed thickly. "See you in a bit."

He had rushed through packing, gathering everything scattered throughout the two adjoining rooms at breakneck speed. Because he wanted to get out of this town as quickly as possible and he knew if he slowed down, he'd question leaving Emma behind. He'd question leaving period. Because innocent people lived in this town. People that didn't deserve to suffer the fate of never remembering their true selves. People who he worried about leaving to the whims of Rumpelstiltskin and whoever this yet-to-be-seen Evil Queen was. The threat now , however, remained minimal. Staying, however, would heighten the risk.

And Neal refused to risk the kids.

He and Emma could discuss possible battle plans later, but right now he had to focus on their family.

Case in point. He hadn't even been gone twenty minutes and when he pulled back up to the mechanics, he found Emma with her shoulders stiff and a smile on her face. Which, to the untrained eye, probably looked pleasant enough. But he knew better. That was her bitch, please smile. The one she wore when she wanted to keep her poker face but didn't believe a single word coming out of a person's mouth.

She hadn't plastered it on because the mechanic was trying to screw her over and never put it on for the kids (she never had, for one, and after the incident with Porter sneaking behind their back to help Carina, Emma had made a pointed effort to always come out and say when she suspected them of lying).

Someone new had joined her.

He had the door open before the tires had finished squealing to a stop, startling the composed woman who turned, looking at him, displeasure written all over her features.

"Your husband, I presume," she said, as if addressing the dirt beneath her shoe.

"John," Emma said, voice extra sweet (and fake), "this is Mayor Mills."

Neal nodded at her, somewhat distractedly as he peered in through the mechanic's window, checking on the kids, and thankfully finding what looked like Porter reading out loud to Carina.

"I was just telling Mayor Mills how nice it was for her to welcome us to town," explained Emma and as he came to stand to stand at her shoulder, noticing for the first time the basket of apples in her arms. Neal realized that, more likely than not, the Evil Queen had just found the Savior. "It's not often that a Mayor will take time out of their busy schedule to greet newcomers."

That sickly sweet tone coated deeply buried sarcasm.

"Yes, well, I wanted to see for myself what my daughter all a twitter yesterday," said Mills stiffly. "You're all she talked about. To the point that she could barely concentrate on her homework."

"You know kids," said Neal, pleasantly enough, "easily excited and all that."

"Not my daughter," she said in a way that made Neal distinctly uncomfortable and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma narrow hers. "Of course, imagine my surprise when I discover that her new friends belong to the person responsible for damaging a historical landmark. That sign is as old as the town itself."

Neal couldn't help but frown, growing somewhat irritated at the continued treatment of kids as possessions, something he itched to respond to, but Emma's words, still pleasant, cut over him. "We'll be happy to pay damages," she said, "of course, like I told the sheriff, I'd be more concerned about the obvious wolf problem if I were you."

Mills cocked her head and, as if speaking to someone she believed to be quite dumb, asked, "I'm sorry?"

"You know, the –"

A distressed, "Marmy," cut her off and Emma's expression turned on a dime, softening into something far more sincere as she shoved the basket of apples at him, easily lifting Carina into her arms.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Emma asked her but Neal couldn't help but look at Mills, who wore an oddly pleased grin. As if she had just found her prey's weakness.

They needed to go.

"I got a papercut," said Carina, holding her finger out for Emma to examine.

Porter joined them and Neal stuck a protective arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. "She kept stealing the magazine," he muttered.

"I wanted to see the pictures," said Carina defensively while Emma pressed an exaggerated kiss to the finger stuck under her nose.

"All better," she announced, but she kept Carina secure in her arms. "Kids. This is Mayor Mills. Your friend Etta told you about her, I believe."

Carina buried her face in Emma's shoulder and Neal distinctly remembered the comment she had made the day before.

"Good things I would hope," said Mills, her tone sweeter than the veiled politeness that she had used with him and Emma, but it still read fake to Neal. Not intentional, but more like Emma when they had first started hanging around Maya and she hadn't yet mastered the art of talking to children.

"Of course," said Emma and Neal had to run a hand through Porter's hair, pulling his head against his jacket to hide his snort. "Neal, do you, um … maybe you guys should get going. I don't want you driving on those back roads in the dark."

"You're not joining your husband," Mills asked before Neal could do more than nod and he noted a crack had appeared in her façade.

Carina lifted her head slightly, her eyes wide with concern, "Marmy –"

"I will," she said, offering Carina a reassuring, if somewhat distracted smile. Neal could practically feel her discomfort with this woman poking her nose into their business. "Just as soon as the car's fixed."

"Well," said Mills, adopting an actual genuine smile, "I'll just have to speak to Mr. Tillman and see if we can get things moving along, won't I?"

She walked off with purpose, into the mechanic's and Neal didn't waste a moment. "Let's go." He dumped the apples, basket and all, into the nearest trash can before helping Emma secure the kids into their age appropriate car seats. She gave Carina a big hug and kiss, promising that she would follow right behind them and, after Neal murmured a soft, "Port," he actually wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and muttered a quiet, "I love you."

A small step but the relief in Emma's smile was palpable.

"Don't eat anything that woman gives you," said Neal after they closed the doors. "Or Gold. "

"Do you know –"

"The Evil Queen," he murmured in her ear following it up with a soft kiss on her lips. He didn't think he had to worry. Not about her. Not right now. She clearly wanted Emma gone, willing to do anything to pave the way for her. But … He sighed. "Just be careful."

She nodded and smiled, genuine enough, but stress showed in her eyes. "And you," she said, "drive safe."

She watched, arms crossed, as they drove away.

Neal hoped for the best.

They got home sometime after dark, the kids desperately begging for food, prompting Neal to order a pizza not long after they had stumbled through the front door, before wearily climbing the stairs, desperate to get into some fresh clothes. Some clean. Untainted.

He paused though, fingering the hand-knitted memento he had left on the bed, neglected in his haste to get to Emma and the kids as quickly as possible.

Neal had dug it out, Emma's baby blanket, sometime after she'd left. Partly because he had needed something to do (and that gave him plenty considering how often things got moved around over the years), but mostly because he had to hope that she would come back and he'd wanted to give her something that would, maybe, remind her that someone had loved her enough to make that for her.

Now though, after their long talk the night before and his own not reunion with his father and how awful he had handled seeing him again, Neal knew that he couldn't guide her through this. He would support her, of course and be her shoulder. Just like always. But if she got to a point where she readily accepted, even forgave her parents then she needed to do so on her own. He couldn't try and influence her decision, no matter how well his intentions were. He understood that now.

But maybe, if Emma decided to accept her role in breaking the curse and that, somehow, led to a relationship with her parents, he could give it back to her. Someday.

Now though, it went back in an unmarked box, shoved in the back of the loft's overstuffed hall closet. Forgotten. Just like Emma wanted it to be.

Emma was late.

She had called, saying that she would be. Something about a complication with the car. Neal busied himself, with setting the table for dinner and then calling Lucas, checking to see if Phang could spend another night and if, maybe, it'd be alright if he took another day off tomorrow. Leo sounded concerned but didn't push and then Neal occupied himself some more, putting the kids to bed, avoiding glancing at the clock and putting on a happy face for the kids who had continued asking after their mother right up until he had tucked them into bed.

Even Porter, despite his lingering anger with Emma, asked worriedly, "Mom's coming back right?"

"Yes," Neal said significantly.

Emma would fight to get back home. He had no doubts about that. Not anymore. It was just all the things that could stop her that he worried about.

He hoped some more and finally, well after midnight, the yellow bug chugged up the driveway.

They went right to bed, Emma only taking a small detour to put some of Granny's leftovers in the fridge, before she stripped, and climbed under the covers, yawning through her goodnight as she set her glasses on the nightstand.

She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Neal couldn't.

"Emma," he murmured, nose brushing hers, watching as her eyes fluttered open, "Baby, is it too late?"

"Too late to be awake? Yes," she murmured sleepily, eyes blinking, struggling to stay open. He shouldn't have woken her, knowing that neither of them had slept very much in the past few days, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He had thought about it all day. The whole drive home, all through dinner, and long after he had put the kids to bed, as he waited for her to finally get home. And it was the best thing really.

"To go back on," he swallowed thickly and significantly, "you know?"

She stopped blinking, suddenly able to focus just fine as she gave him a long look.

"I don't think so," she murmured finally, "it should be fine if I just double up the next couple of days. And we should probably use a condom for the rest of the month."

"Can we?" he prompted.

"Yeah," she said, and she didn't sound disappointed, not exactly, but more like resigned. Like she had expected this. "Is this about your father?"

"I just can't Emma," he said heavily and Emma ran a hand up his arm. "There are just too many unknowns right now. I don't know if it's safe."

"Hey, I get it," murmured Emma. "He was pretty, uh … creepy ."

"That's one word for it," he said, before he stroked her cheek absently with his thumb. "I still want to. Have a baby. It's just the timing … it's not right."

She nodded and kissed him softly. "I know. Just … try and sleep, okay? We both need it and it's another early day tomorrow."

She snuggled back into him and he tried to follow her into a slumber but for the first time in years, and despite Emma's comforting embrace, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, images of his father haunting his still waking thoughts.