CHAPTER NINETEEN
Proposition

Trust.

That was what Regina believed they were working towards, and Emma wished that it were only that simple. For the fact of the matter was, in every way that probably really mattered, she did trust Regina. Despite everything else, Emma knew who she was inside. She knew that Regina would always protect those that she cared for, as her devotion to love seemed to rival the fierce lust for revenge that she had once held. Regina, she… she felt everything so strongly, an all-or-nothing sort of sense that shaped her into both a vengeful evil queen and a devoted mother and lover. And at the end of the day, when it came down to it, Emma knew that Regina wasn't the Evil Queen from her son's storybook; at least, not anymore.

So she trusted her, in that sense. Emma would have to be an idiot not to see that Regina didn't wish her or her loved ones harm. Vengeance wasn't what was important to her anymore.

Still, Emma found it difficult getting past the fact that the woman that shared her bed was a murderer, and despite not only knowing, but understanding why Regina became the person she had, Emma doubted that there was anything she could say to make that fact mean less. And fuck, a part of her really wished that there was some magical way to make the deaths of countless people not matter, because the selfish part within Emma desperately craved the feeling of being with her True Love like nothing else she had ever felt before.

God, she just wanted things to feel simple again.

But everything was far from simple. It had killed Emma inside, to watch Regina break down over what had happened to Daniel; fucking enraged her, to know that it was her abusive bitch of a mother who did something that horrible to her. And what was even more fucked up, was the fact that Regina was so goddamn starved for her mother's love that she instead chose to focus her blame on a child.

As it was now, Emma was certain that Regina did, at least partially, blame her mother for Daniel's death, but back then? It didn't sound like it. Then again, Emma knew she didn't have the whole story. Regina ascending to her title of Evil Queen may have started the day her lover died, but it definitely didn't end there. Still, there was something so fucking twisted about Cora that even the thought of the woman made Emma's stomach churn. Their relationship sounded like Stockholm Syndrome more than the bond between a mother and daughter. Not that Emma knew much on the subject, but still; Regina's insistence, even still, that her mother loved her and just wanted what was best for her screamed fifteen different layers of screwed up.

Thank god the bitch was dead.

Regina's tears had subsided, and now the two women lay next to each other on the bed, Emma's arm wrapped protectively around the older woman's waist as Regina just stared at the far wall silently. She had tried to tell her about the day she was crowned Queen, but she didn't get past pushing her mother through the looking glass before finding herself too upset to continue. Emma had told her that it was okay and began to hush her, as Regina had already rehashed so many old wounds today that if she continued, Emma was afraid it'd begin to break her. As she looked now, Regina appeared positively haunted.

And if Emma was to be honest, she was glad Regina had stopped there, because she didn't think she could stomach hearing anymore either. She knew what Regina would have been forced to do after she was wed, and it sickened her to think about. Emma was fairly certain that given the way Regina grew up, she would have been expected to remain a virgin until she got married. Which meant that her first experience wasn't… it wasn't with someone she loved, but someone who probably just climbed on top of her like she was some goddamn piece of property and just—

Emma shut her eyes and willed herself to think of something else. Anything else.

It's ridiculous, how she had never even really given a thought to how fucked up Regina's life must have been to push her in that kind of a direction. For so long, Emma had had trouble connecting life in the Enchanted Forest with reality. Although she knew that Regina was the Evil Queen just as she knew that Snow White and Prince Charming were her parents, they still felt like stories. Just tales told in a children's book. But Regina's story was far from a fucking children's story, and hearing the woman talk about it, seeing the emotion in her eyes and the sadness etched on her face, made it easier for Emma to realize that it wasn't just some fucking fairytale; these were people's lives.

Emma had long made camp in her denial, even after the truth had been painted clearly in front of her. It was just so absurd, and part of her was hoping that she would wake up and find that it was all some really elaborate dream. But it wasn't a dream, and Emma was never going to wake up from it. This was the reality she lived in now, and she needed to just learn to accept it so that she wouldn't fall off the wagon again in some vain attempt at sanity.

Still, it was difficult. A part of Emma still wanted to pretend all of that didn't exist, just to make everything so much simpler, but she knew she couldn't. So what was she left with? Trying to accept the fact that the parents she spent her life searching for were very much here, alive, and the same freaking age as her, and that she was life-bonded to an Evil Queen through the most powerful magic in the world.

It was going to take some time.

"You can't stay here all day, dear."

Regina's voice was raspy, her throat still raw from crying. Emma's hand stilled on the woman's stomach, abandoning her task of distracting herself by tracing idle patterns against her abdomen, and she sighed. "I know."

"You have to talk to—"

"I know, Regina," Emma interrupted, her tone more biting than she actually intended. Releasing a soft breath, she revised with a gentler, "I know, okay? I know we have to bring him back, and I get that means that I have to talk to him. I just… I don't know if I can right now."

Regina turned in her arms, situating herself on her back so she could look the blonde in the eyes. Her own were puffy and raw, and Emma instinctively brushed the pads of her fingers beneath them, her lips creasing into a frown. She despised how much the two of them cried lately; love was supposed to make everything better, not tear them both to shreds.

Regina clasped Emma's hand in hers, guiding it away from her face. That wasn't what was important now. "I could come with you, if you'd like."

Emma worried her bottom lip for a moment, feeling rocks inhabit the pit of her stomach. The thought of speaking with Neal made her want to drink her entire weight in whiskey, but she used Regina as a crutch too much as it was. In some fucked up turn of events, the woman had basically become her savior, which wasn't a really healthy way to look at her either. She couldn't just expect Regina to always save her, especially when she'd done shit for reciprocation.

God, once they were done with this fuckfest and were out of Storybrooke with Henry, they were gonna have to go to therapy for a long time. They've already made it abundantly clear that they don't know how to have a healthy relationship on their own.

"No, it's… it's fine," Emma finally forced herself to say. "I need to… Neal is my past; I gotta learn to put on my big girl panties and just deal. I can't hide behind you for the rest of my life."

"I'd let you."

Regina's words were heavy with a kind of emotion that Emma knew better than to try to name, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she looked down into the woman's darkened gaze. "I know," Emma whispered, because she knew what kind of person Regina was now; what kind of person she was for her. Still, that didn't make it okay.

Regina, it seemed, in her desperation to prove that she was no longer the Evil Queen, had reverted to an extreme opposite. She wanted to protect her, love her, save her. But she seemed to become more of a sacrificial doormat than anything else, and Emma hated that. Despite how good it made her feel to be cared for in such a way, that wasn't the Regina she knew. She used to be so strong, so put together, and although that never really went away, it became so terribly suppressed. Emma just wished Regina could find a balance; but then again, wasn't that the most hypocritical thing ever? She was a fucking mess too, and even with her newfound desire to quit drinking, that didn't mean she was getting better anytime soon.

Emma sighed heavily, pulling away from Regina to collapse flat on her back as she looked up at the ceiling. "God, we need so much fucking therapy," she mumbled.

Regina bit the inside of her cheek and shifted in the bed, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at the blonde next to her. Her brow was furrowed, and Emma couldn't for the life of her understand why she looked so confused about that when clearly they really needed some goddamn professional help, but then Regina asked her softly, "Are you… I mean, I'm fairly certain that we both might benefit from something like that individually, but are you… are you saying you want us to go to counseling together? Or were you just—"

"I don't know," Emma admitted with a sigh, turning her head to look at the woman next to her. "I don't wanna… you know, actually say that we need therapy together, because then it might seem like I'm—"

"Implying that you want to be with me, when you do not," Regina finished for her, unable to keep the sadness she felt from the assumption out of her voice. Emma shot her a look, not really enjoying being interrupted.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Regina."

"Well wasn't that what you were going to say, dear?" Regina countered, giving her a knowing look. "You don't know if you want to go to couples therapy with me, because you're afraid it might give me the wrong impression. But considering I'm already painfully aware of the fact that you no longer want to be with me, it wouldn't—"

"I don't know if I want to be with you, okay?!" Emma snapped, her hands that were previously tangled in her hair in frustration being slammed down on the mattress. "I just… I don't fucking know right now. It's not… walking away from you isn't that fucking simple, alright? Believe me, Regina, I tried."

Emotion etched on the brunette's face at that, but Emma wouldn't let her speak.

"And don't get onto me again about 'giving you hope', because if anything's doing that it's some stupid, unchallengeable force that neither of us have any kind of goddamn control over. But I just… I fucking look at you, and it's… it's just…" Emma's voice hitched, a sudden wave of emotion washing over her that she couldn't even hope to control as she continued sadly, "you're the only home I've ever had, you know? When I'm with you, I feel like… like I'm…"

"Where you belong," Regina finished for her softly, her eyebrows creasing empathetically as she gently touched Emma's face, her thumb ready to wipe away any tears that the blonde wouldn't yet allow to fall. "I know," she breathed. "I know, because I feel the same way. But I… I understand that it's difficult for you, and I'm sorry that I wasn't everything you deserved to have."

"You're fucking more than I deserve to have," Emma countered, her tone angry as she pushed herself into a seated position and away from Regina's touch. She was more furious with herself than anything else though. "At least… I don't know, recently, anyway. It's just—Jesus," Emma exhaled in a wave of frustration, pushing the hair back from her eyes as she tangled her fingers near her scalp. She looked at Regina helplessly, finally allowing herself to voice something that she never had the courage to before.

"I just want to forgive you," she told her softly, her throat tightening at the painful admission. "I don't… I don't wanna fucking do this anymore, Regina. But… God, what kind of person does that even make me, you know? You killed people. You… you killed Graham. And I…" Emma choked back a sob, her face etching in distress as a singular tear fell from her eye that she violently wiped away. "I just want it to not matter. How fucked up is that? How—"

"Emma," Regina tried, reaching out to place a hand on the woman's leg. Her voice shook a little, but she seemed determined to stay a voice of reason in a situation that, fuck, didn't even have any as she told her, "I think that… that it may be far too soon to have this type of conversation. There is a lot you don't know, and should you even decide that you do want to be with me, I would…" She sighed softly, looking at her regrettably, "I would love it, of course, but it… it wouldn't be right. I'd spend the rest of our relationship wondering if you would still want to be with me if you knew the whole truth, and I believe you would as well."

Regina was right, and Emma knew that, but it still didn't help her sate how conflicted she felt inside. But then again, maybe nothing would. Maybe they would always be this screwed up. Maybe this kind of pain was what both of them deserved.

Emma sniffled, wiping away the evidence of distress on her cheeks as Regina continued. "I'll tell you everything, if you want to hear it. But not… not right now. I can't—it's just too much," she admitted, taking a moment's pause to chew lightly on her bottom lip as she picked aimlessly at some invisible lint, trying to not let her demon's consume her once more. Taking a breath, Regina continued, "But eventually, if you wish it, you'll know everything; and perhaps then you'll know if my sins are something you could ever forgive. But for now, just…" Regina looked up at her, exhaling a soft breath as she finished, "Just take it one step at a time. Don't overwhelm yourself with this, because we have a long time to try to get it right."

"But what if we never can?" Emma asked softly, her voice sounding so terribly fragile. "What if… what if there's something out there that won't let us get it right?"

Regina furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

Emma sighed heavily and looked away, shaking her head as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Nevermind," she mumbled, because she just… she couldn't tell her. Not yet, not when she didn't know if it was even true. It was just some stupid theory and if Gold was wrong, then Emma didn't want to get Regina worried for nothing.

The problem was, even for it being some random thought, it had a lot of fucking basis that Emma wished she could ignore.

Gold believed there was another curse that counteracted with the previous one, but the thing of it was, it wouldn't have been the whole town that was cursed. If that was the case, then Regina's wouldn't have even worked the first time around. This other curse seemed to only counteract with the breaking of it, and the only two people that were involved in that were herself… and Regina.

Regina, who terrorized people for years under her monarchy. Regina, who made herself a lot of goddamn enemies during that time, some of who were likely to take revenge. Regina, whose life never seemed to go the way she wanted it to. Regina, who sought for happiness for years and could never really find it.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? Regina found happiness with her, so if Gold was right, and Regina was cursed, wouldn't she not have been able to find her True Love? Plus, if Emma thought about it, Regina's crappy life started way before she ever became the Evil Queen, and who would have cursed her then? Her mother?

…Her mother.

But as quickly as that theory came it was dismissed, as even that didn't ring quite true with Emma, despite her own desire to place blame on the wicked woman. She obviously didn't know Cora personally, but from what Regina had told her, despite the woman's abuse, she had wanted nothing more than to push Regina to the top of the food chain. Cursing her wouldn't have achieved that; it would've just torn her down. So that didn't make sense either, despite Cora being the only magic-user that Emma knew of outside of Regina and Gold.

And Gold didn't make sense either, because he wanted the curse to break properly so he could find his son.

Which then made Emma worry that maybe she was the one who had been cursed, because that's what Mary Margaret was so adamantly afraid of. She feared Regina found a way to curse her before she was even born, but if that were the case, wouldn't Regina have told her? She had been fairly honest with her recently, and that's not exactly something she would just leave intact, if that were true. Emma would like to believe that Regina would try to rectify it, but then again, what the hell did she know, really? She knew nothing about magic, and for all her knowledge, the crap could have been unintentional on Regina's part in some kind of… magical outburst or something.

God, just thinking about all this gave her a headache. Emma didn't want to obsess about theories of something that Gold didn't even know was true yet, but part of her couldn't help it. Something went wrong when they tried to break the curse that day, that much was obvious, but at the moment, no one really knew what exactly had happened.

And that was why she couldn't tell Regina right now. They had far too much other crap to deal with before they even started to rectify that situation.

"Emma?" Regina gently prodded, brow furrowed as she tried to make sense from the woman's silence. "What is it? You're keeping things from me again."

Emma sighed softly, leaning back against the pillows. "I just…" She almost admitted it, almost, because god she hated having this all stuck in her head with no one to make sense of it, but instead she replied with, "I think that maybe we really should go to therapy. Together. Not as… not together together, but just together, you know? Once… once we settle down somewhere. Cause… God, we're a fucking mess, aren't we? And we're gonna have to deal with this crap between us if we ever hope to raise Henry in some kind of semi-sane way."

Regina tilted her head to peer at her for a second, as if she knew that wasn't what Emma was really thinking about before, however she let the change of topic slide as she responded, "As much as I agree with that, dear, you do seem to be forgetting that the only therapist qualified – and believe me, I use that word very loosely." An eye roll followed, then a continuance of, "The only person able to help us with our… 'special circumstances', per say, is trapped in a town that neither of us can get back inside of."

Emma noticeably deflated. Fuck, she had forgotten about that. They couldn't go to anyone else outside of Archie; at least, not unless they wanted to book themselves a one way ticket to the loony bin. And short of Archie leaving Storybrooke, which Emma doubted would happen, they weren't actually left with any other options.

"Hey," Regina prodded softly, touching Emma's ankle to get her attention when she noticed her expression clouding over. "We'll figure it out, alright? But we're a long way from that as well, so try not to worry just yet. Let's just focus on what we can do right now."

Emma sighed, knowing what that was. "Getting Neal to come back with us."

Regina nodded, and Emma pursed her lips as she turned to look out the far window, anxiety beginning to creep up her spine from the inevitable situation that she didn't know if she had enough sanity left in herself to face. But in the end, it didn't matter what she did or did not believe she could do, because she had to. Neal was the way back to their son, so despite everything else, despite all her weaknesses and fear, Henry had to come first.

Emma might not have had a lot of experience when it came to being a mother, but putting her son first was a decision she never had to question was right. It's just what parents had to do, and so… so she would. She just fucking prayed that she could handle it.

[x]

"Do you… uh, want some coffee, or…?" Emma's eyes darkened from across the small table, causing Neal obvious discomfort in a situation that was difficult enough already, and he awkwardly nodded. "Okay, um…" He looked up at the waitress in front of their table. "Just one then. Milk, no sugar."

The waitress wrote down his order, but just as she was about to leave, Emma sat up a little straighter in her chair and ordered, "Coffee; black, one sugar. Thanks." Neal shot her a look that she ignored, as really the only reason she didn't answer him before was that she didn't want him ordering for her. Mostly because she didn't want to know if he still remembered how she took her coffee.

Even something as trivial as that would surely fuck with her in ways she didn't want to deal with.

The public setting was her idea, as she wanted to make this as painless as possible, and being around other people would at least give them a reason not to outright scream at one another. She had shown up at his apartment, expecting him to have already taken off, but to her surprise, for once in his worthless life, it didn't look like Neal was getting ready to run. The apartment looked just as it had the day before, and it actually took her back for a moment. Usually when things got too difficult, he wasted no time packing up his things to move onto someplace new.

Neal had suggested they go to a neighborhood bar down the street once he realized Emma had no intention of talking in his apartment, and Jesus, it took every bit of strength inside of her to say no to that. Being drunk would have made this so much easier, but Emma's list of screw ups was already a mile long, and she didn't need to make it any longer.

Besides, she didn't want to know what Regina would do if she came back to the motel room drunk. Emma knew that there was only so many times that she would pick her up when she fell, and Emma didn't want to reach the point where she no longer would, because without Regina's help, she didn't feel like she stood a chance.

God, it was so fucked up though, wasn't it? Emma started drinking to run away from Regina, yet in the end, all it did was practically make her dependent on her. Talk about irony.

When the waitress left with their orders, Emma slouched back down in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at the man across from her. "So," she began, getting right down to business, "This is how this is gonna work."

"Emma," Neal cut her off, shifting in his chair in some vain attempt at feeling some semblance of comfort during this conversation. "Can you just hear me out… please?"

"No, I don't think so," Emma told him shortly. "Because you know what? I really don't care that you actually thought – by what I can only assume was brought about by massive brain damage, by the way – that getting me thrown into prison at eighteen years old was what was best for me. Okay? I don't, because it doesn't change the fact that it happened; that I had to live with your stupid decision brought about by your selfishness and lack of fucking judgment. What you did to me fucked up my life, Neal."

"Emma, I'm… I know that it probably doesn't make a difference, but I really am sorry. Okay?" He looked at her imploringly, but Emma's features did not soften. "I hated doing to that you, and I've regretted it every day since. I loved you—"

"No!" Emma shouted, slamming her hand on the table. The commotion caused a few heads to turn in their direction, and Emma forced herself to calm down so she didn't cause a scene. Lowering her voice, she reiterated, "No, don't you dare tell me that you loved me. You don't do something like that to someone you love."

Neal took a breath, trying not to argue with her about it, as he could plainly see that fighting against Emma's assumption would be pointless. She didn't want to hear it right now, even if it was true.

After a moment, he looked back at her and asked, "So did you do it? At least tell me that."

"Did I do what?"

"Be the Savior that August believed you were," Neal responded, like she should have known what he was referring to. "Save a cursed town of fairytale characters."

The waitress chose to come back with their coffees then, and after they both had thanked her, Neal turned towards her expectantly. "Well?"

Emma exhaled a long breath, her fingers drumming on the side of the ceramic cup. "They have their memories back," she admitted after a moment. "So I guess so." The truth was, because the curse didn't break right, the answer to that was probably 'no', but she didn't want to admit her shortcomings to him. Neal didn't deserve to know her weaknesses; not anymore.

Neal looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. Which Emma was glad for, because if he started spewing bullshit like 'well then maybe it was worth it', she might have actually jumped clear across the table and fucking strangled him. It took a few seconds, but Neal nodded his head and asked, "She one of them? That… woman you brought with you?"

"Henry's mother?" Emma responded, driving the point home that him leaving her had fucked up their chance of ever raising the kid together like an actual, proper family. Neal cringed at the word as he took a sip of his coffee, but Emma didn't get a chance to enjoy him feeling like shit about that because something suddenly felt strange. She sat up straighter in her chair. "Wait, you don't know who she is?"

"Renee?"

"Regina," Emma corrected, looking at him strangely. "I thought you were from there, how the fuck do you not know who the Evil Queen is?"

"The evil what now?" Neal asked, a horrified expression crossing his face as he leaned across the table. "What the fu—our son is being raised by someone who has 'evil' in their goddamn title? Are you—Jesus, Emma, are you high? How can you just leave him with—"

"Oh, relax," Emma spat at him furiously, cutting him off. "She's a good mother, and she's not—she isn't like that anymore, alright? And even if she was, it isn't like you have any say in how Henry's raised. Hell I barely have any say in it, and I'm the one who's—" But she cut herself off, realizing at the last moment that she didn't want to reveal that part of her life to him.

"You're the one who's what?"

"Nevermind," Emma snapped. "It's none of your business. Regina's just—she's fine, okay, so just leave it. She might have fucked up a lot in her life, but she did more than right by our kid. If anything, I have to give her that, and considering you haven't been around for Henry at all, you don't really have a place to judge on what makes a proper parent."

Neal still looked pissed, but he didn't push the issue. Emma had no doubt that it'd be brought up later though, but for now Emma bypassed it and reiterated, "And again I'm going to ask you why the hell you don't know about her if you're from there. Because everyone knew who she was, Neal. Trust me; she was pretty damn infamous."

Neal shifted in his seat, his discomfort overriding his anger for a second as he avoided eye contact.

"Neal," Emma repeated strongly, still able to recognize when he was hiding something from her. "What the hell aren't you telling me?"

The man cupped the back of his neck as he slid a little further into his chair, exhaling a long breath before finally turning to look at her. "Alright, look, I know how this is gonna sound, but… don't freak out on me, alright? We're in public."

Emma didn't like the sound of that at all, but she demanded, "Just say it."

Neal sighed, relenting to her questions as he admitted, "I might be… a little bit older than I look."

Emma narrowed her eyes. While Regina was older than she looked, there was something about the way Neal was acting that made it seem like it might not just be by a handful of decades. "How much older, exactly?"

Neal coughed and looked away again as he mumbled, "Like a couple hundred years…"

Emma's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull.

Not wanting Emma to start shouting at him, Neal quickly turned and tried to explain. "Look, it's… I fell through a portal, yeah, but it—the first one didn't take me here. Well, it did, I just… didn't stay in this world long. At the time I was, uh, at this girl's house, you know? And after she caught me trying to steal some food, this shadow thing came through her window and kind of… well, anyway, I eventually got stuck in this place called 'Neverland' and there you can't actually age, and—it's kind of a long story."

Emma just stared at him, trying to process that. She barely even blinked, and Neal started to look more uncomfortable the longer the silence went on. "Uh… Emma?"

The sound of her own name seemed to snap Emma out of it. "You—fuck," the blonde laughed, because in the end, what the hell else was she supposed to do? This was all so insane. "Right, why wouldn't you land in Neverland? Why wouldn't that be real too, right? Fucking hell…" Reaching for her coffee, Emma practically downed the contents of the cup like it was a shot.

It was all so completely ridiculous, and yet this was her life now. Go figure.

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm in some badly written TV show," Emma grumbled beneath her breath, slamming her empty cup back down on the table. Neal looked like he was about to say something, but Emma continued angrily with, "I mean, what the hell are the chances that, out of everyone on the planet, I hook up with a guy that's from the same backwards ass world that I'm from? It's like one in… I don't know, fucking a lot, right? How is this—I mean, how the hell is this even real right now?"

Neal opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Emma pointed at him furiously, "And I swear to god, if you say even one thing about 'destiny', I might actually shove this coffee cup down your esophagus."

Neal closed his mouth, then sighed heavily.

"Look, I don't know how we ended up together; whether it was… orchestrated, or whatever, or if it was just pure dumb luck. But I swear to God, Emma, I had no idea who you were when we met."

Emma wished that made her feel better, but it didn't. She felt like her life wasn't her own; that she was just some toy to be played with by whoever or whatever did that sort of thing. Everything in her life just seemed too carefully mapped out for any of it to be based on her own decisions, and she hated that. It was all just so conveniently interwoven that it was hard to think anything but anymore.

The blonde sighed heavily, sitting up straighter in her chair as she tried not to think about that right now. "Look it… it doesn't matter," she told him. "That's not why I'm here."

"Yeah," Neal exhaled heavily, folding his arms across his chest as they got back to the conversation that he clearly did not want to have. "I know. But Emma, my father—"

"Wants you home."

"And I'm supposed to care about that?" Neal countered. "Emma, I don't have contact with my father for a reason, alright? He fucked me. He chose magic over me, and you know what? I learned to live with his decision, so he probably should to. I don't owe my father a damn thing and I sure as hell am not about to go back to the man who abandoned me when I was just a little kid. So I'm sorry, but you can just tell him—"

"No, you don't get it," Emma told him strongly, leaning forward in her seat to get his attention. "You don't have a choice in the matter. Regina and I need to get back to our son, and right now, Gold is the only way to do that."

Neal furrowed his brow. "Who the hell is Gold?"

"Rumpelstil—your father," Emma impatiently corrected herself halfway through. "Gold was the name he went by when he was cursed and—you know what, it doesn't matter, okay? Look, I get that this is gonna suck for you, but you're our ticket back to Henry and there's no way I'm leaving here without you. And believe me, you don't want to make me force you."

"What do you mean he's your only way back to Henry?" Neal asked, starting to grow angry. "Did my father do something to him? Because I swear—"

"No, he—ugh," Emma breathed in frustration. "It's just… I owed him a favor, alright? And in the process of cashing that in, I had to leave Henry behind, and we don't have a way back into Storybrooke right now. Which means my son's trapped inside, and unless I bring you back, Gold isn't going to figure out a way to let me back in to get Henry. And I need to get back to him, Neal; that's not even a question. So just… fucking put your shit with your dad on hold for a minute, and do the first right thing by your son. You can leave straight after you talk to Gold, but just… come back with us for now, okay?"

Neal was silent for a good long while, a conflicted look etched across his expression as he weighed his options. Finally he spoke. "If I… if I come back with you guys, do I get to meet him?"

"Who?"

Neal looked at her like she was being stupid, and it suddenly clicked in Emma's head.

"Oh." Henry. Who else? Emma shifted in her seat. "I don't… know if that's the best idea."

The bitter part of her wanted to tell him hell no, but for some reason the words didn't make it out of her mouth. Maybe it was because Emma had spent most of her life wondering who her parents were – if they missed her, if they cared – to not want to do that to Henry. Maybe Neal didn't deserve to meet him, but Henry probably did. Still, in the end, it wasn't her call to make; and she was glad for it, because she didn't want to make this decision.

"He's my son, Emma," Neal reminded her. "Even if I never get to raise him, or even be in his life in any kind of significant way, I think Henry deserves to know who I am, don't you?"

No. Yes, obviously. Fuck this.

"Look, it's not my call," Emma told him, trying to get him off the subject. "I'd have to run it by Regina, and she's not exactly your biggest fan."

"Why? What the hell did I ever do to her?"

"It's what you did to me, moron."

"Why the hell is that relevant to anything to do with—" Neal started, but then it seemed to dawn on him as his expression dropped so suddenly it would have been almost comedic, if not for how uncomfortable it suddenly made Emma feel. "Oh."

"Whatever you're probably thinking right now, I can guarantee you're wrong," Emma told him, because despite her knowing that Neal had gotten the general idea, there was no way he'd guess that Regina was her True Love, and all the complicated bullshit that went along with it. So it wasn't technically a lie.

"So you're not dating our son's adoptive mother then?" Neal asked, like he knew better. After all, it wasn't as though this assumption was coming out of left field; he had known years ago that Emma's sexuality wasn't exactly a straight line. He had even benefited from that little fact once.

"No."

Because she wasn't. Not anymore.

"Look it's—even if I was, it's not any of your fucking business, alright?" Emma snapped before Neal could retort. "The only thing you need to be concerned about, as far as Regina goes, is that she's the one who raised our son; who makes all of the decisions regarding his wellbeing. Henry is legally hers, so yes I need to ask her if it's okay if you meet him."

"But she listens to your opinions, right?" Neal countered, his gaze far too intrusive for Emma's liking. It was like he was trying to dissect her. "I mean, she came with you to find me, even though she didn't have to. You must mean something to her."

"No, she—ugh, her being here right now is way more complicated than that, alright?" Emma shot back, because with Regina being kicked out of Storybrooke and Emma drinking herself to an early grave, that was probably the vaguest way to cover it. "And again, none of your business. So just accept the fact that I need to ask her, and wait for a goddamn answer, alright?"

"Fine," Neal relented, the word being followed by an aggravated sigh. "But those are my terms, Emma; you want me to come back with you, then I want to meet Henry. If not…"

"Don't give me a fucking ultimatum, Neal," Emma responded heatedly. "I can bring you back with or without your compliance."

Neal raised a challenging eyebrow at her, the look almost furiously mocking. "You'd have to find me first, and you know how well I disappear."

A sarcastic smirk crept across Emma's face in response, and she shot back with, "Well then, I guess it's good that Regina and I can use magic to find you then, isn't it? I mean seriously, how the hell did you think we found you in the first place? Luck? You didn't exactly have a paper trail to follow, Neal."

"You're using—?!" Neal began, looking furious before held up his hand to her. "You know what? I don't even wanna know how you managed to do that here. And if you want to fuck around with that stuff, it's your funeral. But three hundred years of being alive hasn't taught me nothing, Emma, and if you wanna take your chances, then go right the hell ahead; but I guarantee you, I can and will find a way to disappear so even magic can't find me, if it comes to it. Do not fucking sit here and threaten me."

Emma tried to call his bluff, but Neal showed no indication of lying about that, and it actually gave her pause. Did she really want to take that chance? Probably not, and that aggravated the hell out of her as she quickly stood from her seat.

"Fine," she responded heatedly. "Whatever, alright? Just lemme ask Regina, and I'll let you know tomorrow."

Neal noticeably relaxed as he let out a relieved breath, glad that his request was at least being taken into consideration. "Thank you."

Emma scoffed, still furious that she was practically being backed into a corner, and as she walked away from the table she shot back with, "Don't thank me yet."

Because getting Regina to actually agree? That was gonna be really damn difficult.

TBC…