By gods people! Out of 280 views you gave me 20 followers, 9 favorites, and 9 reviews (most of which were more than a single sentence long!). SwanThief is no longer my favorite ship. You guys are. Really, thank you. Please try and keep it up. You have no idea how much that made my day!

So to celebrate, I have skipped class and decided to finish the next story. Originally, I was going to do the reunion between Neal and Rumple for this chapter but I figured that, since people are actually reading this, I might as well try and keep it at least mostly in some kind of chronological order.

By the way, is anyone good a poker and wouldn't mind helping me with one of these? I have an idea for a Storybrooke wide Poker tournament but have never played the game.

Neal turned off the car and got out, resting against the hood, he stared at the bright orange line drawn across the road. For the past decade, his every moment had been waiting for this one, and yet he couldn't bring himself to cross.

Emma would hate him. He knew that; hell, he had known it well before he ever started dialing the number that night. And he wasn't ready to face that. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and beg forgiveness, but to do that he was going to have to face her…and that was going to kill him.

It had been bad enough betraying her from afar, but to actually see the hurt in her eyes was a whole different story.

He had tried to move on—to get over Emma and what he had done—but he had about as much success with that as taking a gun to a dragon fight. Perhaps he had just spent too long in the other world, the one where everyone only gets one true love, but he knew she was it.

Sure he had tried to date a few times, but it never lasted long. It wouldn't have been right for him to lead them on—he knew that even if he did care for them, there would never be real love.

And now he had a chance—no matter how slight—to make everything better again. And that was all that mattered.

Taking a deep breath, he got back into the car (stolen of course—for a city with so much fucking traffic, not many can afford to legitimately keep one) and drove into town.

A part of him wanted to take off, maybe find August or Rue and get the whole story before tried to see Emma, but there was something about this place that wouldn't let him.

It felt like home—the Enchanted Forest. Neal could feel the magic here and until that moment, he had never realized how much he truly missed it. Shure he had left that world to get away from it but it had just been that one, dark and terrifying kind. Just because a kid is afraid of thunderstorms doesn't mean they've never played in a puddle.

There was a diner on the right, and that seemed about as good a place to start as any. Besides, the trip had been long and he could use a bite to eat.

He sat down quietly at the bar next to a dark haired boy and gave his order to the waitress—a pretty girl with an over fondness for wearing Red. As he waited, a voice from behind him sent an odd combination of fear and longing shooting down his spine. It was a voice from his childhood and, although he had none of the sing-song cadence of ground glass and glitter, the voice still haunted his nightmares.

Neal pretended to look out the window while staring at the couple in the booth out of the corner of his eye. There were no signs of magic—no glittering skin, no yellowing eyes—that spoke of the Dark One. Here, despite the magic seeping from the land, it would seem that Rumplestiltskin was just a regular, ordinary man like everyone else.

"It's odd, isn't it?" The waitress asked, pulling his attention away from the booth as she set his slice of pie down in front of him.

"What?" He asked, putting on his most charming smile.

The waitress looked at him with an are-you-kidding me look, as if she already had this conversation a hundred times over.

"Gold with a girlfriend."

Neal looked back, and for the first time really looked at Rumplestiltskin's companion. His eyebrows shot up. She was young—like younger then Neal young. And yet it was impossible to deny the look in her eyes. Neal had seen that look directed at him once and knew with it was instantly. Love.

"Yeah, it's odd alright." He muttered, taking a bite of his pie.

"You know, I haven't seen you around here before," the kid said taking a bite of his own pie and grabbing his mug of hot chocolate. Neal wasn't sure if he was just curious or accusing him of something. Maybe both.

"Maybe I haven't been around here before," he teased and the boy's brow furrowed.

"Strangers don't come to Storybrooke," he said as if it were one of those undeniable truths of the world. And truth was it probably was.

"Maybe I'm not as much of a stranger as you think."

The kid looked him over, measuring him. "Are you a friend of August's?"

Neal smiled knowingly at the kid. Whoever he was, he was sharp…sharp enough to make Neal feel a twinge of pity for his parents. He had to be a handful.

"We've met," he muttered, unsure whether or not he could really call the older man a friend.

"Speaking of August," the waitress said, turning to the boy, "has there been any word?"

The boy nodded morosely. "The dwarves found a little bit of fairy dust in the mines. It was enough to fix him."

"That's great!"

"But that's it. It's not enough to bring Mary-Margret and my mom home and I'm worried."

The waitress leaned down so that her face was at about the same height as the kid's. "Henry, listen to me. David's not going to stop looking until he finds a way to bring them back; you and I both know this. And Snow's not going to let anything happen to Emma. Your mom will be fine."

It took a couple seconds for what he heard to click, but when it did, the truth fell into place with all the gravity of a freight train smacking him head on. He set his fork down, fighting not to choke on his pie, as he turned to look at the boy—at Henry.

The moment came in a horror-movie kind of slow motion—perforated in the same kind of slow dread that had taken over that night, meeting August. Neal knew what he would find—knew he didn't even have to look because that's just how his life worked. Whatever happiness magic could take from him, it would.

It was bad enough he had had to betray the woman he loved and get her sent to prison just so she could fulfill her destiny and clean up the mess his father had made. Why not top that by making her pregnant with his kid as well?

There was no denying it. Not when he really looked at the kid. There was just too much of Emma (and himself) in Henry's face.

Neal took a slow, steadying breath, and turned to the waitress.

"Speaking of August," He said, struggling to keep the conversational tone in his voice, "do you know where I could find him? I have a few things to…discuss with him"

"He's staying over at Granny's Bed and Breakfast, right around the corner." She said.

Neal smiled as he slapped a couple bills down by the half eaten pie, but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. He was too much in shock to even try.

"It was nice meeting you, Henry." He said getting up.

"But I don't know your name." Henry said, turning to look at him.

Father, Dad, Papa. Any of those would work. "I'm Neal, Neal Cassidy."

"Got your postcard." Neal said, as August opened the door.

"I can see that." August gave an impish smile, and Neal was agiain struck at how much he hated that look. Which was fair enough really, considering how many people who were it seemed intent of fucking up his life.

August stepped back and motioned for Neal to follow him into the room before shutting the door behind them.

Once Neal was sure they had privacy, he turned on his 'friend.'

"Did you know?" He asked, his voice harsh with emotion.

"Did I know what?" August asked, playing dumb.

"About Henry." The words came out as a strange half hiss, half curess and August looked down in guilt.

That was all the conformation Neal needed.

August pressed his palm against his nose, trying to stem the blood flow as he tilted his head back. "Would that have made it any easier for you to do the right thing? Would it have changed anything?"

"Your damn right, it would!" Neal shouted, not caring if the whole building could hear.

"Exactly!" August said, looking around for a tissue.

Neal narrowed his eyes. August was acting like it hadn't changed anything. Like Neal would have just had to give up both of them. But it would have changed everything.

It had almost destroyed him to do what he had to do before, when it was just Emma, but Henry too? He wouldn't have had the strength. He would have found another way. No matter what it took, he would have found some other way.

"Now," August said, shoving a Kleenex up each nostril, "are we going to fight some more or do you want to hear about what's going on around here? I kinda figured you'd think finding Emma was a bit more important than fighting over something that's already over with."

Already over with? Had that puppet been huffing wood varnish or something? It has just begun. Neal narrowed his eyes. Had it not been for Emma, he would have been trying to find the nearest wood chipper in this town. But if there was one thing the bastard was right about, it was that finding Emma was more important.

"Start talking or I turn you into Jeff Dunham's next act." He hissed and pulled up a chair. Something told him this was going to be a long story.