"You are out of your mind if you think I'm leaving her just because some creep told me to."
That was what Neal Cassidy remembered saying to August Booth in a dimly lit Portland alleyway. With the man knowing Neal's true name and knowing about his father, Neal does believe he's from the Enchanted Forest, but what August was asking of him was impossible to imagine. They had a plan - a risky one, but if executed right, would secure them at least something to get them started in their lives. He couldn't throw that away because some guy who was supposed to have been taking care of Emma completely failed at his job.
"I'm not a creep. My papa was a loyal advisor of her parents. She has to come to Storybrooke on her 28th birthday so she can save everyone that got swallowed up by Regina's curse!" August protested.
Neal rolled his eyes and sighed slowly. "Okay. Let's say I believe you. Let's say you're right, and that Emma is from the Enchanted Forest. How is she supposed to get to a town that doesn't exist to save everyone?" Much as he didn't want to think good about Emma's parents, given the horror stories about her life she had told him over the past few months, he had to admit, a magical curse was a somewhat reasonable explanation for Emma ending up on the side of the road being found by a seven year old.
"Leave that to me. I'll find Storybrooke and send word to her."
"Nah. You'll be sending word to us."
August raised a brow. "You aren't going to listen to me and leave her? If you stay, you risk running into your father again."
Neal scoffed. "Please, he wouldn't recognize me now anyway. I'm not leaving Emma. If you want her to go to Storybrooke and break this magical curse on the town, you have to deal with me, too."
August groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Fine. I'll send word to both of you when I find Storybrooke."
"Good. We done here? I need to get back."
August frowned. "Yeah. We're done here."
Neal turned on his heels and stomped back to the bug to wait for Emma. He couldn't believe he'd just agreed to something that would force him to see his father again. What was wrong with him?
But… if it would help Emma get some answers as to where her parents were, was it really such a bad thing?
When she returned, bag in hand and a bright smile on her face, eyes sparkling with mischief and adventure, he knew he'd made the right choice.
He remembered fencing the watches in a small town a few hours away from Portland, under the guise of having gotten them from a recently deceased relative Emma hadn't wanted anything to do with. People seemed to buy anything you were selling if there was a sob story attached to it. He remembered Emma feeling sick later that day and taking her to an urgent care in order to figure out what happened.
He remembered the doctor catching him as his legs gave out from under him when he'd told Emma she was pregnant.
That night had been sleepless - they'd stayed up all night in their cheap motel room trying to figure out what to do. They had the twenty thousand dollars, which was dwindling by the day given room charges and food they needed to buy, but that was hardly enough to get them started, let alone add a baby to the mix.
But they'd both been children of the system, and neither of them had wanted to subject their own child to it. So with fear in both of them, they'd made the choice to keep it and made plans to make it to Tallahassee.
They'd both found jobs - Emma as a waitress and Neal at an auto parts shop. Neither job paid well, but there was a small roof over their heads and a thrift shop down the street, so it worked, somehow. What had surprised him was how generous people were. Emma's co-workers had banded together to buy them a brand new crib for the baby - apparently those things had safety measures that changed every so often, and the one Emma had wanted from the thrift shop had been from the 1960s.
His co-workers had pitched in for formula and diapers. It had been strange walking into work and seeing a bunch of burley men holding cheap, dollar store bags with WELCOME BABY spelled out in blocks on them.
Things were hard, despite the help, but somehow, they'd managed to power through it, and Henry was happy and healthy. That was all he cared about.
When Henry was four, they'd grown tired of Tallahassee, and had moved north to Boston. Neal had managed to start a successful photography business, and Emma began work as a clerk for a private investigator. They were much better jobs, so their apartment actually had two bedrooms and a moderately sized kitchen.
Eventually, they became middle class, and they could afford upgrades to their furniture and clothes. The one big thing that never changed was the bug, and he knew it ever would, no matter how many people ribbed them for it.
When Emma turned 28, Neal was on edge. August had been checking in on them every couple of years, but he hadn't heard anything from him in a while. Had he not been able to find Storybrooke?
If he couldn't, Neal was hardly surprised - he was Pinocchio after all - a character that wasn't exactly a paragon of truth telling.
The uneasy feeling soon disappeared, and Neal rededicated his focus to Emma and Henry, and eventually, the little girl that joined their family after one of Emma's cases ended with them taking custody of a toddler. Another child wasn't expected, but Neal felt nothing but bliss when he watched his family at the breakfast table one sunny, cool morning.
The bliss was shattered when he answered a knock on the door, and Captain fucking Hook called him Neal instead of Baelfire.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.