Wow guys…just wow. There are not words for this. You guys rock. I think more love has been shown for the first two chapters of this then almost everything else I have ever done put together. A few of you have mentioned that I need a Beta and I'm working on that but you guys give me so much love I just want to sent it all back as fast as i can...

And a super special thank you to AuntBee on the Oncepodcast forums. She (I'm assuming) mentioned that she had seen this story and it made my day. Also a big shout out to Dan flin on the same podcast. He read an excerpt and I started hyperventilating so bad my roommate had come check on me (I think she thinks I'm a weirdo now) and then I had to finish this tonight. But really guys, take a look. The podcast is epic, and if you don't mind living in the spirit of election season and voting for them in the podcast awards (they'll tell you how) that would be amazing.

Thank ALL you guys. The love you show me is constantly making my feels explode!

Neal looked over at the drawing on the table and sighed. Most people would consider him a decent artist if they ever saw any of his work, but no one did. The sketches he did were always dark and bloody—a way to exercise his demons, the ones that had gotten their hooks deep into his nightmares and refused to let go—and they all suffered the same fate.

Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he held the sheet of paper up by one corner and watched as the ash landed on the table. As cathartic as the scent of burning paper was, Neal knew that it hadn't really helped anything; inside his mind or out.

He had just spent the last two hours getting caught up in this strange little town and what he heard sent his blood boiling and most of it had to do with Rumplestiltskin.

Normally he didn't hold grudges—he knew that keeping stuff stewing inside only made it worse when it did show itself, but his feelings towards the Imp were more complicated. A part of him always just wanted his papa back, even now that he knew it wasn't possible. Another part of him, though, just wanted to bash the old man's skull in, especially after risking Henry's life like that and to bring magic here of all things!

Neal had heard the tale; had heard about how magic was like a drug. He knew better than anyone what the consequences of that were—what kinds of monster it can create. And it probably hadn't helped that originally the bastard had been so helpless to begin with. Take a man with a lot to be angry for and give him a little bit of power and it never ends well. Especially when that power is something as dark and—

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Henry," he said honestly surprised. The kid stood there clutching big leather-bound book in his hands.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked on autopilot, the words sounding stupid even to his ears. How many times had he skipped class during the short time he had been forced to go? The newfound father in him whispered that it was different. For one, Henry was ten, but more than that, school couldn't be as hellish for him as it had been for Neal.

Kids were nothing but sharks and if you throw a kid who's a little different—who, for all intents and purposes, comes from the dark ages and doesn't know half of what's going on—it becomes sink or swim.

That year his lessons weren't history or math or any of that. That year he learned how to smile and charm the teachers so that they didn't think he was crazy; he learned how to just be silent and watch—how to get enough info from others before speaking so that he didn't seem stupid; and he learned how to fight.

And it was also where he developed his unfortunate case of sticky fingers but that wasn't the point.

Henry smiled. "August said there was a development with operation Viper."

Neal didn't have time to ask what operation cobra was. August stuck out the door to his own room.

"I think there was a miscommunication. I said we had a new guy to help develop operation Viper. You didn't have to skip school. "

Henry's face fell and Neal felt like kicking August. If Rue hadn't fixed him, the man's nose would be a foot long by now. His motives were obvious and Neal appreciated the excuse to see his son (his mind still hadn't gotten used to that, and he had a feeling it would be a long time before he was completely comfortable with the thought) but that was completely unfair to get the kid's hopes up. Not about this.

"But a fresh pair of eyes never hurt." Neal said, trying to save the situation. He moved aside and motioned for Henry to come in.

"Listen Henry," August said, leaning against the doorframe, "I really wasn't expecting you to come over until after school and I already told my dad that I would go over to the shop this morning. Do you mind staying here and filling Neal in on what we're trying to do?"

Neal shot August a dirty look. Off all the tricks for him to pull, this was probably the one Neal was least prepared for…and most excited about.

Henry had been in his thoughts as much, if not more, then Emma, than his fa—then Rumplestiltskin. How could he not be? But Neal's opportunities to get close to him were severally limited. He already stood out as a stranger and Henry was a high profile kid. The last thing Neal needed was to be labeled a creeper, at least not until Emma was back to clear up the paternity issue.

"Sure."

After August left Neal had no idea what to do. Here he was, the first time ever in a room with his kid (without about a million other people around) and all Neal could think was 'what now.' Luckily for him Henry went straight to business.

He plopped the book down on the bed and started thumbing through the pages.

"Henry?" The boy looked up from the book and stared at Neal.

"Hmm?"

"What's Operation Viper?" He asked, curiously.

Henry looked at him a little funny, like it was something he should already knew. "The plan to bring back my mom and Marry Margaret. I thought August filled you in."

"He did he just didn't call it that. It didn't click," he said motioning to his head. Truth was August didn't mention much of the details about what had been going on post his past catching up with him citing the fact that he wasn't exactly the most mobile of people then.

Henry smiled a knowing little smile, "That's the point of code names."

"Yeah, of course."

A beat as Neal basked in the surrealness of it all. He had come to this town—this hell of the Dark One's making—expecting to find the girl he betrayed; to beg her to understand, to forgive, all the while trying to dodge his past like an elephant in a mine filed. And yet that all got pushed to the side in this moment where in an odd way, he was beginning to get the first taste of something he had lost a long time ago: family.

"Hey Neal?" Henry asked, curiously.

"Yeah kid."

"So why are you here? I know you're August's friend, but strangers can't just come to Storybrooke."

Neal thought for a moment. Just how much should he tell the boy? It killed him to admit it, but he didn't know anything about Henry. He didn't know his birthday, his favorite color…or his capacity to keep a secret. And yet he knew how much lies hurt those around you; that was the last thing he wanted for Henry even if it could potentially open a can of worms Neal prayed would stay on the shelf.

There was really only thing to do.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked, kneeling down so that he and Henry are eye to eye.

Henry nodded.

"I mean really you can't tell anyone," Neal repeated, emphasizing his point. Henry just nodded again and Neal took a deep breath before letting the truth fall from his lips like the remains of vomit after a bad nightmare.

"I was born in that world and I escaped through a portal before the curse." There was something both horrible and cathartic in that single truth—in those words he had never spoken aloud. Even when he had met August, the writer seemed to know most of his story already and, as creepy as it had been, he had been relieved not to have to tell it himself.

Henry's eyes widen

"Really?"

Neal nodded, watching both wonder and excitement spread across his son's face. Something was happening in the boy's mind—some gears were clicking into place, but Neal had no idea what. At least not until Henry explained himself.

"Did you come through the wardrobe too?"

Neal tilted his head confused for a second. He had some brief flashbacks to a children's book that he was supposed to read in school (not that he did—he didn't mind reading but when even when fiction mentions magic he can't help but get a bit squeamish) but he shook that thought away. It didn't fit. Besides hadn't August mentioned something about…oh that's right. That's how August and Emma came through.

"No I used a magic bean."

"Do you still have it?" Henry asked and Neal could see where the kid's thoughts were taking him.

Neal shook his head, following Henry's idea. "It was a onetime use kind of thing."

"Oh."

Neal reached under the bed and pulled out a small box and started rummaging through it. He had never really been the sentimental kind of guy, but there were just a few things he could never bring himself to get rid of even if he should have: a few pictures of Emma and him on their roundtrip, ticket stubs from that time they stopped at Disney, a picture of his mother drawn from a fuzzy memory, a letter to his father he had written before running that the older man had never seen, the postcard, and there, buried deep at the bottom was a single bean. There was no magic left; its glass-like shell cracked like a marble.

Neal always meant to throw it away but could never bring himself to do it. Maybe something good could come out of it now, if they had the right help.

"But maybe with enough fairy dust we can get it to work again."

Neal knew it probably a stupid idea. If news of that bean got out, it would send red flags up for the one person he didn't want to face but this was more than worth it. If it would give Henry a bit of peace of mind…if there was a chance it could get Emma back, then it was worth it.

"The dwarves are looking but they are having trouble finding it." Henry said, dejected and Neal's heart throbbed. The kid was trying to be tough but Neal could see right through that and into the worry that was eating at him. "I overheard Leroy and Gramps talking. They say it's unlikely that they'll be able to find much more without their axes."

"They don't have them?" Neal asked, knowing their importance. Fairy dust was almost impossible to find in the wild, but those things were enchanted: the axes honed in on the substance like a magnate.

Henry shook his head.

"They're in Mr. Gold's shop, but he won't give them up."

Neal's eyes narrowed. Of course. If there was something going wrong in his life it could usually all be traced back to that one source.

Henry let out a yawn.

"Trouble sleeping?" Neal asked, recognizing the signs.

Henry gave a guilty smile.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"Nightmares?"

Henry nodded once and Neal furrowed his brow. He hoped that the nightmares were just because of what happened—were just out of worry—and not something deeper and darkener in his life. August had told him about his adoptive mother but apparently for all her evilness she would never hurt him…but that's what Neal had thought about his father and not all pain is physical.

He walked over to the headboard and pulled the dream catcher down from where it was hanging. It hadn't made all of his nights restful, but there was no denying it had helped. He knew it would be inviting the nightmares back, but he didn't even flinch as he handed the thing to his son.

"Here it's a native American dreamcatcher. It's supposed to be like fly paper for bad dreams. If you hang it up in your room it should protect you."

"Is it magic?" Henry asked.

Neal's face darkened. More than once he had wondered the same thing, but each time he had pushed the thought aside. Even if there were, it wouldn't have mattered. That thing—magic or not—was all he had left of Tallahassee, of the dream he and Emma had shared. It could have had as much magic as that fucking dagger and it still would have gone everywhere with him.

"No. But it's special. Someone very precious gave it to me."

"Your true love?" Henry asked and Neal was struck at just how perceptive he was, especially for his age.

"Yeah," he said. Most other people, the ones from this world at least, would have been hesitant to use such romantic words. They never understood love when they saw it, not sure it even existed, but Neal had grown up in a place where magic was everywhere; where love was almost guaranteed for those brave enough to seek it, so how could he call Emma anything but?

There was a buzz. Henry looked at his phone. "I need to go before Gramps realizes i skipped."

"Alright Kid see you." Neal said, trying to hid his disappointment that Henry couldn't stay longer. But it was alright. When Emma got back they would have all the time in the world.

If she didn't kill him first.