CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: CURSED

(In which things are not happily ever after!)

"Neal, just talk to me!" Emma exclaimed, bewildered, annoyed, and still seriously horny as she nearly tripped in the bedsheets to follow him.

It had been such a good day, she'd thought, the culmination of the past five weeks of their attempt at dating, making a fresh start, by meeting for coffee and talking about their lives. They'd reminisced about their Bonnie and Clyde days, discussing the trials and tribulations of dealing with a teenager who was chomping at the bit to get his driver's license and was determined to take his test with the Bug even though he'd yet to master it's tricky clutch - while trying to figure out how to fit into a town defined by a heterosexual world view and run by grandparents who'd probably be on their 19th kid by now if there had been no Curse and seemed as inclined to unintentionally say something hurtful and insulting while attempting to be understanding as actual grandparents collecting social security.

Henry and the (good) past had been their glue while trying to figure out a future, and it had been... really nice.

Nice that was most recently Neal's birthday party at Granny's, which Emma had thought would be a good way to erase the bad memories of the funeral reception and the weirdness of her brother's coronation, and put an end once and for all to her not meeting him for coffee that day. And all had been going so well. Until Neal was pushing Emma's hands away from the fly of his jeans and mumbling that he had to go.

"I told you, this is moving too fast," Neal repeated as he shoved his feet into his shoes, the same ugly pair he'd been buried wearing, that he'd only put on that day in New York because they were comfortable for walking. He'd have replaced them if Purbeck's selection wasn't out of an LL Bean catalogue and his son and stepfather had together left him with a shitload of credit card debt, so he couldn't order anything to ship on the creepy-ass midnight supply train. "I don't want you regretting it."

"Me or you?" Emma countered.

"Maybe both."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Neal raked his hand through his hair and finally looked at her. "It means we have serious issues, Emma, that aren't going to be resolved by a birthday pity fuck."

She gasped, appalled. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I don't know what it is any more than any other screwed up relationship you've taken too far too fast," Neal countered. "And I'm probably not much different. But I don't want this to be just... because we're feeling horny."

"I didn't think it was," Emma countered, and pleaded as Neal headed for the door, "Can't we just... talk about this?"

"I think I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."

Emma grabbed the afghan from the couch and continued, "I thought... things have been going really good and today was fun, and it seemed like... a natural progression. I thought you felt it too."

Neal sighed. "I thought I did too, but..." He trailed off and sighed.

"What is it?" Emma demanded.

"I don't want to hurt you, Em..."

"You're hurting me by not telling me what's going on!"

Letting out another sigh, Neal finally answered, unable to meet her gaze, "Turns out I can think a lot more positively in the hypothetical about being intimate with the woman who married my stepfather than actually doing it."

Well, that wasn't what Emma had been expecting. "Oh," she rasped out and felt her cheeks grow hot. "I didn't... that... bothers you?"

"Of course it bothers me," Neal told her, trying not to sound annoyed, but rather failing. "It's not exactly easy to forget that you've had sex - lots and lots of sex - with my asshole step-dad, probably in this very apartment."

"We never... things never got that far here," Emma stumbled out. "I mean, it was my parents place-"

"That he occupied like he practically lived here. It's not just the sex."

Neal was heading for the door again.

"Neal, wait!" she called out, grabbing his arm.

He pulled away, frowning. "I'm not like you. I'm not going to suddenly change my mind and fall into bed with you just because you try and stop me from leaving."

"That's not fair."

"I think it is. The Emma I fell in love with wouldn't have gone right to getting laid just because we had one good night out. Or expect me to just get over all of that crap because you want things to work out your way. That's him talking. Being with him that... misogynistic narcissistic sociopath changed you, Emma. And I know I didn't believe in our love when it mattered and that played a part in how you changed even before you got here, but I guess... I thought you were better than that, braver than I was."

"Well, I'm not," Emma shot back. "I wanted to be. I wanted to do the right thing, but I didn't. I just... I wasn't in a good place in my life, Neal. I made a lot of bad choices. All I can say is that I was trying to... outgrow the past, the baggage that I'd been carrying my whole life. I loved you since I was seventeen, but for so long I couldn't have you and I couldn't give you up. Until I could do that no one else would stand a chance. So, you dying... it was like I was finally given a reason that I had to, and then finding out twice that you weren't dead... all of those feelings... I didn't want to face them. It was easier not to. But I never meant to hurt you by being with him. And I don't want to be like him. I know... I know... your Dad's right that once you start changing, it's not so easy to change back, but I'm trying. I want to be the person you loved, who loved you."

Neal offered a tight smile. "I do too. I really do. But... I'm not sure we can ever get back to that place, that we can find Tallahassee."

"You really believe that?" Emma asked. She couldn't bring herself to ask 'You don't believe in me?'

Neal shrugged uncomfortably, then confided, "You know what kept me going in that Vault of the Dark One to even have a soul left worth pulling back? My belief in you, my love for you and Henry. So, to find out that the woman I loved, that I died trying to get back to, you ended up becoming the Dark One and the man who ruined my family was the one to save you and got to have that family with you, raise my son? It's not easy to get over that. And I get that I'm being kinda hypocritical cause I left you in jail, even if I didn't mean for you to end up there, but I also never expected forgiveness for that. I just... I need time. I need... to make peace with that. And I need to know, to believe, that you really want this for the right reasons, that you want me, not just because you feel guilty."

"It's not guilt," Emma insisted. "I want you for you, Neal."

"Yeah, see, you say that now," he argued, "but have you really thought about what that means? Cause you gotta admit, I'm not your type. I'm nothing like Killian."

"A misogynistic narcissistic sociopath?" she tried for humor, but it fell flat.

"A classic storybook fairy tale archetype," Neal countered. "Tall, handsome, suave, with some legendary literary pedigree and flowery words. With him, you got an epic romance in a book - two, actually - in which I was just a footnote. With him you got to know what it was like to grow up with your birthright and fall in love in a classical fairy tale with castles and balls with banquets. With me, you lived out of a car and ate out of dumpsters. You got a forgettably ordinary love story recorded by no one, unless you count the state of Arizona's department of corrections."

"Because so much good came out of those fairy tale stories being written down," Emma stated. "I don't care if we're not in a book, Neal."

"But you liked being in those books, Emma," he argued. "Admit it. You can't deny that you enjoyed it. So, can you really say that what made you happy then would make you happy now? Cause you're not that orphan thief anymore. And I'm not a prince or a rogue or a poet. And if I can't get a knighthood for dying to save an entire town, I'm pretty sure there's no 'Sir Baelfire' in my future, not that I'd even want that, because it's not who I am. Killian, maybe he aspired to be your knight in shining armor, but I'm not the armor type. I'm not looking for epic adventures. I'm not dashing or eloquent like your circle of legendary super friends, Emma. I'm just ordinary."

"You are not ordinary," returned Emma. "You've done amazing things, Neal. And so what if you're not some literary legend with chiseled looks? You really think I care about that? You think I want endless epic adventures?"

"Honestly, Emma," he answered, "I don't know. I mean, back in New York, you couldn't exactly wait to point out what a crappy life I'd made for myself with my apartment full of junk. And seems to me that when the shit's hitting the fan around here, that's when you're in your element."

"Because I'm the Savior. It's my job," she shot back. "I have to step up, whether I want to or not. What I want is a regular life. With you. And I only said you didn't have a lot going on in yours because I was angry and I wanted to make my life seem better than yours. Which it wasn't. You had more in your one apartment than I had in ten. I was... angry that you had all of that stuff that meant something to you, but I'd never managed that."

"So angry that you trashed it all after I died," Neal stated, causing her to avert her eyes.

"Ask yourself, Emma, if the Dark Curse had never been cast, if it never existed to bring us together to make the kid who got you here to break it, would Princess Emma have chosen the pirate or the peasant son of the Dark One? You'd probably have fallen in love with Killian on some smuggling run, run off to become a pirate or some shit, and maybe we'd have met in Neverland and I'd have just been a weird, moody boy, because we'd have had nothing in common.

"I mean, really, other than sharing a son that neither of us raised and a whole lot of pain and disappointment, Emma, what is our story?"

"That we were two people looking for home who found it with each other and who keep finding each other!" Emma exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears. "And however things would have played out if Regina hadn't cast that curse, it doesn't matter, because she did. We did meet and we did fall in love. And sharing a son, Neal, that's the best part of our story. You gave me the best thing I've ever done. Who made me realize that it was wrong trying to make you disappear, even if remembering was painful.

"I don't care if we have a castle or live out of a car, Neal. We had nothing but just being with you made me happy. Even when our lives sucked, you being there made me happy. And it had nothing to do with some fairy tale archetype. Before I got to this town, my whole life, I wasn't anyone special. You were the first person who really saw that I was worth something, not for selfish reasons. And that's what makes you so amazing, that you see the good in people, and that you risk your own happiness for others. That makes you better than all of those legends, Neal. That you're a good, kind, brave person. And whether or not Princess Emma would be able to see that, I'm not her. And I'm choosing you. I don't care about epic adventures and grand romantic gestures and all of that chivalry crap. I just want to be with you! I thought that's what you wanted too," she finished, crying now.

"I do want that..."

"Then can we just... can we start this again? Pretend all of this," she gestured to her makeshift robe, "didn't happen. I'll get dressed and make coffee or we could play video games?"

Neal let out a sigh. "I need time, Emma. I need to get... you and him out of my head. And I can't do that here. Not with the... ghosts of you together," he concluded, reaching out, briefly grasping the slightly tarnished brass-plated circlet she wore, had worn when he met her again in New York, that now held meaning he couldn't easily forget. "It still hurts too much being surrounded by this life that I was never a part of, that went on without me, surrounded by all of these reminders of how little an impact I made on my own family, how easily I was replaced and forgotten."

"I'm sorry," Emma uttered, starting to lose the battle with her tears. "I just want us to be okay."

Neal shook his head. "I don't know if we can. Everything good we had, it's stacked up against the rest of it, the good you had without me, the pain I caused you and you caused me. Sometimes it just feels like we're-"

"Cursed?" Emma tearfully finished.

"Yeah."

"True Love's Kiss is supposed to break any curse," she stated, hating how naive that sounded.

Neal gave her a sad smile and he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. Of course there was no flash of light.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Emma asked, confused.

"I did have fun tonight and I'm grateful for the party. First birthday I've celebrated in a couple hundred years. All things considered, it was a good day, just for that."

And then he stepped out, shutting the door after him.

Tears continuing to fall, all Emma could think was that she really needed a drink... and a therapy session with Archie. Instead, she'd have to settle for hot chocolate and unwanted self-reflection. Like it was probably a big deal that she'd never really equated sex with love, let herself be that emotionally invested or vulnerable in the actual physical act... which was probably why she picked men who naturally divorced emotion from sex, who appreciated it primarily for the intense physical act. That Fifty Shades kind of stuff that was like snatching life from the jaws of death, riding a high... and getting addicted to that, because it felt good without the risk of the looking into someone's eyes and seeing their soul and your future children love song kind of crap.

She was pretty sure she'd actually divulged her hatred of Brain Adams to Neal during some discussion about romance before they got around to getting naked together...

Emma let out a sigh, as she picked up her discarded clothes from the floor.

And Neal's scarf.

She held it close, inhaling his scent that clung to the woolen fibers. She'd heard somewhere that women subconsciously feel happy and safe when they smell the scent of the person they're in love with. It had to be the pixie dust, alcohol, and STDs that made her feel remotely safe and happy with Killian, because clearing out his closet with its scent of stale rum, sweaty leather, and Ye Old Enchanted Forest cologne had made her physically sick to her stomach.

Neal might believe that her thoughts kept going back to her ex, but it was only with regret at ever getting involved with him in the first place. And she hadn't been thinking of cuddling and kissing Killian in just about every corner of the loft when she invited Neal in; she'd been thinking about that motel room and the happiest moment of her life and the excitement and relief that maybe they could actually recapture that best part of them, make a new best memory where they got to fall asleep in each other's arms in a bed and wake up together the way she'd always wanted to then, that she'd so briefly dreamed they would in Tallahassee. But now the place felt haunted, even more-so than after her fight with Henry. Like son like father, apparently. They both had a way of getting under her skin... or into her head in a way she didn't like.

Obviously, moving back in here hadn't been such a good idea.

Maybe it was just another facet of her nasty habit -screwing up other people's happy endings with keepsakes that no longer held meaning if they ever really did.

...

When Henry stepped into the Loft, it was to the scent of cinnamon and smoke and his mother sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of cocoa . She looked up, startled.

"Shouldn't you be at Regina's?"

"Roland's stomach ache turned into a fever and she didn't want me getting sick," Henry answered as he dropped his bag to the floor. "Figured I'd sneak in and crossed my fingers that you and Dad weren't making tacos," he said wryly before joining her in the kitchen and noticing her red-rimmed eyes and nose, the extra dash of cinnamon on her untouched cocoa, and The Book on the table open to a drawing of his dad as a kid. "Guess I didn't have to worry about that. Dad's not here?"

"He left before any tacos were made," Emma answered and sighed. "We... I think maybe we're taking a break. Or we're broken up. I'm not entirely sure, just that it's... complicated."

Henry frowned. "Why? I thought things were going really good between you guys. You were bordering on excessive PDAs at the party."

"We were not," Emma grumbled.

"Well, that's if you only define excessive by your previous standards of basically having fully clothed sex in public complete with sucking noises and ass-grabbing," Henry snarked. "Like, you should have arrested yourself for public indecency it was so bad. So, comparatively, the nose rubbing thing is really more excessively cute like Grandma and Gramp's kind of gross than my mom and Robin having sex under her dad's corpse gross."

Emma let out a sigh. "Yeah, well, I think Neal is leaning more toward our prospective relationship being akin to the second one. I guess there's a difference between holding hands with the woman who slept with your step father and... you know."

"Doing the deed that gave me life?" Henry retorted while heading into the kitchen to get his own cup of cocoa.

"You don't need to get cheeky. Or any more than you already are," Emma shot back.

"Keeps me from being permanently scarred for life," Henry joked, then frowned a little as he discovered where the burnt smell was coming from, and it wasn't a failed attempt at cooking. In the sink were charred pieces of paper, pages from The Book, that from a remaining page number and a corner of red he recognized as the story of how his grandparents met - with the help of Prince Charles and Princess Leia.

"You burned the chapter you changed?"

Emma frowned deeply. "It's not worth having. It's the wrong story."

Shaking her head, she lamented, "I should have made a deal with Isaac, set things right before Gold let him run wild with our lives. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew Neal was in the Vault. Hell, I'm sure The Apprentice did. But they wanted him to stay dead just to write that... mess and mess with you. And I fell for it. And I fell in love with the wrong guy and now I'm... tainted, and your dad's convinced that we only met to make you, that the whole... son of the Dark One and daughter of true love doesn't mean anything more than that, that if there was never a Dark Curse we'd never have fallen in love and had you. Or maybe Pan would have gotten us stoned on pixie dust 'til we did it in a cave, but Killian would have been the hero who rescued me and we'd fall in love and have a big royal bullshit wedding... or something, even though I only kissed him because of pixie dust and a buttload of lies," she snorted.

"Do you believe that?" Henry asked. "I mean, that I'm the only reason you and Dad met?"

"No. I used to. That's where I screwed up. Where I let Neal down," Emma admitted tearfully. "I forgot that magic can't make people fall in love. Not truly. And because of that, I didn't fight for him, for us. Neal's right that I was selfish, just like Gold. I didn't want to remember that I failed. And now... I think I've ruined Tallahassee for all of us, Kid," she concluded, dejected.

"You can't just give up, Mom," Henry countered, sitting down next to her. "You have good memories that you can build on, right? And one day they'll outweigh the bad if you just give it time. That's what Gram and Gramps always say."

"Yeah, but those memories are from a long time ago, Henry, and your grandparent say a lot of idealistic crap that sounds infinitely wise and romantic when you're a kid - but when you grow up and aren't high or brain damaged, they don't actually apply to most people. And they definitely don't seem to apply here. Here it's just a lot of hurt and... judgmental family members sticking their noses in our business."

Henry shrugged. "So, leave. We could take a vacation soon as school is out. We never really get to spend time just the three of us, what with the 'judgmental family members' always around. And you'd get to not be the Savior for awhile. And I'd get driving practice!"

Emma raised a brow. "Kid, if you think I'm letting you drive out of here with a license from a town that doesn't exist..."

"So, we can stop somewhere and I'll get a legit one," Henry argued.

AN: This was a special two POV extended chapter! Emma's line about loving Neal since she was seventeen, if I recall correctly, is from an episode of Call the Midwife, though I can't remember which one.

Next up: Graham!