Hey guys! I'm so so sorry for taking so long to update – life has been so crazy hectic and I've been working on this piece by piece for days trying to get it done. I might try to update with smaller chapters just so I can have them up quicker but I can't promise anything! Haha anyway, sorry again for the wait and I hope you guys enjoy!

Alas, I do not own OUAT.

Still not completely sure who Ruby was or how she could be of help to them, Neal decided it best to keep his mouth shut and follow the man like a soldier obeying orders from his captain, but it was difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand knowing that his son was mere feet away, marching alongside him.

His son.

He had a son.

No amount of mind-churning or repetition of that fact was ever going to make it more real to him. Eleven years he spent wandering this world, finding a path, sticking to it and going through the motions – because saying that he was 'living' would be a lie. Living required making conscious decisions and doing things for the pure hell of it. Living required being involved; and truth be told, there was a part of him that believed that until he made things right with Emma, he'd never be the person he wanted to be. No, he didn't think they'd ever get back together – that thought didn't come into it; it was more to do with righting a wrong and being true to who he knew he could be.

But finding out that they had a son together was a whole different story. Maybe that was why he wasn't living; maybe he couldn't live the life he was supposed to because it was empty.

Every single part of him itched to know the boy more but he knew that unloading a barrage of seemingly random questions on the lad would do very little except pique his interest and make himself look like one of those creepy old guys.

So he said nothing.

Walking with his hands in the pits of his pockets, he charged hurriedly to keep up with the Prince. Or whatever he was. Prince Charming apparently. Neal may have been the spawn of the Dark One but something about hanging out with one of the most iconic fairytale characters of real world made him want to laugh.

It was all so…ridiculous.

Maybe that's the effect this world had on people like him; as in, those who distanced themselves from the Enchanted Forest and all that crap. It forced them to look at situations with a different eye and search for answers through other non-magical means.

A land without magic?

Yeah, they had the right idea.

Lost in his own thoughts, sorting through the jumbled mess of his mind, Neal hardly realized where they were going until he was hit with the blinding lights of the diner he refused to go into earlier. Suddenly the compulsion to bury down and hide away from all the curious faces was overwhelming.

He gulped, his glance flitting about the place rapidly. He couldn't come face-to-face with his father yet. He understood the need to and he understood that the chances of avoiding him for much longer were extremely slim – especially if he intended on staying in town – but he just couldn't do it right now.

Slinking into the diner like a snake, Hook pounced on the closest empty chair, directing himself to the door so as not to garner attention. It was a little difficult to hear the exact wordings of their discussions what with all the chatter and idle conversation floating around the air, but being a pirate and used to being on constant alert had given Hook the tools needed to zone in on what he needed. He hadn't fully given himself permission to interfere with Cora's plans yet; she was far too sinister a woman to just dive in like some bartered hero and try to save the day. Yet there was some part of him that felt compelled to do something about it. Perhaps…to play the part of a man he could have been a long time ago were it not for fate's cruel hand.

Was there any harm in playing a role once intended for you?

Keeping himself to himself, Neal noticed that David had left him and wrangled his way through the tables and chairs, grabbing the attention of a woman who he assumed was Ruby.

Henry stood awkwardly beside him, keeping his face unreadable. Poor kid was probably reeling with everything that was going on. He scrunched his forehead the way he did, Neal noted with a swell of delight.

Licking his lips, he decided to take the plunge. "So, uh, how's the hot chick supposed to help us?" he asked, feeling about two-feet tall. Having a son apparently took a large chunk out of his courage. Great.

The boy smiled a little, slipping onto a seat at an empty table. "I thought you were from the Enchanted Forest? You're not very good at this."

Neal smirked. "I guess I'm a bit rusty." He plopped himself down on the seat opposite the kid, facing the door. "Who's she over there?" With his thumb he gestured to the woman who was locked in deep conversation with David. They both looked pretty tense.

Henry's eyes lit up, his little frame animated for the first time. He leaned in as if to conspire on some big secret. Neal mirrored the movement. "She's Little Red Riding Hood," he informed giddily.

"Little Red Riding Hood? Like, with the basket and the grandmother?" Furrowing his brow, Neal resisted the urge to scoff. All this stuff was obviously important to his kid.

"Yeah but there's more," he said with a roll of the eyes. He was so like Emma when he did that.

"Oh yeah? Tell me."

"She's the wolf too!" he exclaimed in a whisper.

That made him do a double-take. "The wolf? But how…that's…and she…?" He exhaled sharply. "Wow. That's, uh, that's something I wasn't expecting. I guess I owe her an apology."

"She's really great. She's my mom's godmother, too."

"Yeah? That's cool."

Reaching the topic of Emma's life was not really what he wanted. There were so many what-ifs and good and bad memories to sift through; hearing more about her and what her life could have been like and what her life actually turned out to be wasn't on his list of favourite activities. Mainly because the more he thought about it, the angrier he was with himself.

He did the right thing.

At least that's what he told himself.

Every day.

"So," Henry drawled brightly, "how do you really know my mom?"

If Neal didn't know better he would have thought Henry was toying with him. "I told you," he said, clearing his throat, "we're friends." Shrugging as if to signal that it was no-big-deal, he arched his head so he could take a swift look behind him at David in the hope that the man would see the desperation glowing in his eyes.

No such luck.

"But how did you guys meet?"

"Uh, we just found ourselves in similar situations."

The kid cocked his head to the side. "Were you in the foster system too?"

He scratched his chin. "Uh, kind of. You ask a lot of questions," he remarked with a breathy laugh. When did it get so hot? The air felt as though it was being pressed in all around him.

Henry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms onto the table. "I like answers," he answered simply.

"I sense that. That's good though. You'd make a good cop," he commented off-hand, his eyes scanning the room again.

"Nah I don't think I wanna be a cop."

"No?"

He shook his head. "I'm thinking a Prince. Maybe even a King. You know, stay in the family business."

A broad smile broke out on the man's face. "You know what? I think that's a great idea. And you'd make a great king someday."

"You think?" Henry's eyes were ablaze with the hope only a child could have.

"I don't think; I know."

The boy sat back, his face set in concentration. Feeling a sudden rush of self-consciousness, Neal let his stare drift to the couple dining beside him. He wasn't used to being scrutinized, and he was certain it was not something he would ever like to get used to.

"Did you know my dad?" his son abruptly asked, genuine curiosity colouring his tone.

Neal whipped back to face him, his expression calm but his hands curling to fists to control his inner monologue. "Your dad? No, no," he insisted with a shaking of the head. "Emma must have met him afterwards."

"Oh." His face fell. "I was just kinda hoping to find out more about him and I thought you could help."

He raised his shoulders quickly. "I wish I could, kid. Sorry."

"He was a fireman, you know. He died trying to save a family from a burning building."

It was as if all of the air in Neal's lungs had been bulldozed out of him in one quick moment. His eyes as wide as saucers, his hands shaking, his knees knocking, his breathing irregular, his heart pounding, his whole world turning upside down.

Emma told Henry he was dead.

Emma lied.

Emma ruined any chance he had of getting to know his son.

And in that moment, Neal felt the stillness of his heart for the first time since he had learned the truth about Henry. Any hopes or dreams he had were obliterated in a single second and it took all of his willpower not to let the lump in this throat to transform into anything more serious.

"Oh, I…" he paused to take in a deep breath, "I'm sorry. That…uh, that sucks. He sounded like a great guy." Yeah, a much better guy than he was that's for sure.

The kid nodded solemnly, a distant look in his eyes. "I just wish I knew him, you know?"

"Trust me, I know."

Luckily, before anything else could be said or done, David returned, his expression more hopeful than earlier. He checked his phone again and huffed at the empty inbox.

Neal focused all his energy onto the man before him, blocking out all that other crap consuming him.

"Ruby said she'd help us," David declared triumphantly with a wide-armed gesture, as if her agreeing to aid them had just solved all of life's problems. "We'll find them, I am sure of it now."

"What, you weren't sure beforehand?" Neal goaded with a raised eyebrow. "Look I may not be a werewolf or whatever, but I have a lot to offer, too."

The man rested his hands on his hips. Though he looked similar in age to Neal, the way in which he moved and spoke harkened back to man much older than his years. "Oh really, like your dry wit and sunny disposition?"

Henry's shoulders heaved as if he was holding in a bout of laughter and Neal couldn't hold back his grin. "How about we just find them? Leave all this weird animosity you seem to have toward me and put all your efforts into, you know, the task at hand."

Cue a theatrical roll of the eye.

So Emma was like her father too.

"Come on, Henry," the Prince announced, placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Let's wait outside."

Henry didn't wait to be told twice but he was clearly enjoying the exchange. Not really sure where his invitation stood, Neal decided to wait a courteous minute after they had left before pushing himself off the chair and sauntering toward the exit.

But in the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a face he thought he recognised and he stopped cold, his breath hitched slightly. It wasn't him. Right? Impossible. Ridiculous, even. There was no way…

So he took a deep breath and turned on the spot just to quell the curiosity.

But his jaw fell, a waterfall of memories rushing over him. "Hook?" he breathed.

To say Emma's arms were weak was an understatement. Next to no strength was perhaps more apt. The shackles had now made an indecent groove in her skin; the red rim that encompassed her wrists indicative of just how tight the restraint was. Since compensating for the lack of upper body movement, the rest of her body ached and groaned for respite and Emma found herself willing herself to stay awake.

The dim light from the lone lightbulb burned in her eyes, creating coloured blots every time she blinked. The bricks behind her were freezing, stinging every time a piece of exposed flesh brushed against it.

There was nothing hopeful about the situation they were in. Hope was an impractical means of keeping oneself distracted from the harsh reality in which they were in.

At least that's what it felt like.

"How long do you think we've been here?"

Since the only sound that they had for company was the screeching of absolute silence, the words startled an equally limp Mary Margaret whose head shot up like a light at the noise.

"Sorry; didn't mean to frighten you." Even the blonde's voice was weary.

The brunette shook her head. "No, don't be. Uh, I can't be sure. I think two hours. Maybe three."

"Feels like an eternity."

"I know," she whispered.

Emma sighed, feeling overcome with emotion again. When all hope was lost, what else was there but to look on how dire things were? "Look, I know we said we should wait but I wanna get out of here Mom. I'm gonna use magic."

There was a part of her that wanted the older woman to say no, to strike down in defiance, to put her in her place for even entertaining the idea. How big the part was she wasn't sure; all she knew was that it existed.

Though she took her time in replying, Mary Margaret gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I think that's the best option we have – as much as I don't like it."

"Okay." Emma breathed slowly. "Okay." Magic. How hard could it be? She'd done it before. Think of home, think of Henry, and then BAM out of the chains and free.

Simple.

Then why was nothing happening?

Allowing the air so fill her lungs to capacity before exhaling slowly, Emma attempted to hone whatever power she may possess into the extremities of her limbs and hoped for the best.

Her mother braced herself: her eyes closed shut, her fists balled, her arms taut.

On the count of three, the blonde thrust her arms forward as much as physically possible with the restraints and moved her head to the side, expecting a large bang, or a blaze of light, or…something.

But nothing happened.

Not. A. Thing.

Other than the dust from the shackles flitting down toward the ground, everything was exactly the way it was beforehand.

"Emma?" the brunette said a little too-pitchy. "Are you okay?"

"Why isn't it working?!"

Irked, she tried it again, throwing caution to the wind this time.

Still nothing.

In fact, it looked downright embarrassing.

"The one time I need it to work and it's not happening! I don't understand!"

"Shhh!" her mother hushed, scolding her. Emma cowered back into the wall in apology. "We don't want company if we're trying to escape."

"Gee, thanks for that piece of insight."

"Emma," she warned.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I just…we need this to work."

Mary Margaret offered nothing but instead chose to be silent on the issue, switching her attention onto the wall opposite them, her shoulders tense.

Her chest tight, her arms like lead, her knees aching, Emma couldn't stand staying quiet anymore. They had spent enough time not talking already and she was sure that any more time alone with her thoughts would drive her absolutely insane. Of course she knew her father and Henry were out there looking for them and her belief in them was nothing short of remarkable, she just wished they were free. She just wished she had answers.

She just wished she could do what she was supposed to do. The saviour: a person who saves. What good was she if she couldn't get them both out of yet another sticky situation?

"Why aren't you saying anything? You always have an opinion," she commentated, resting her back leg against the wall to push her body straight.

"Your father thinks I'm…I'm smothering you."

"Wait, what?"

"He thinks I'm smothering you," she repeated just as reluctantly. "About your magic."

"I mean, I don't want to sound mean or anything but I kinda have to agree with him." Normally, she wouldn't divulge such thoughts – at least not without being completely confident with it – but this situation called for a little reason on both sides.

The brunette sighed, dropping her arms and making her chains rattle. "I had a feeling you'd say that. I think I've known I've been doing it for a while but it doesn't mean that I can just stop worrying."

Emma turned her head so that she could look at her. "Come on, we both know you're never going to stop worrying and anyway, that's not what I'm saying. Smothering isn't the same as worrying." The brunette, looking stricken, looked away. "Yeah I know you're scared. Okay? I know that. I mean, you let me know enough," the blonde mumbled, keeping her voice devoid of emotion but knowing all too well that it had begun wavering. "The thing is, I'm frightened too. Always, actually. I don't think there's ever a time when I'm not afraid that at any given moment magic can just pour out of me and potentially, you know, do more than just hurt me. You're afraid that it'll kill me. So am I. And before Storybrooke, before Henry, before you and Dad, I didn't have anyone else to think about, but now I have responsibilities and priorities and a family; I can't just disappear, I can't let this beat me. I have more to lose now than I've ever had and that terrifies me. I'm powerful – so powerful that I can effectively fatally harm anyone who's near me if I lose control of my magic. You have no idea how stressful that knowledge is. How painful it is. How I am a danger to both myself and others." She closed her eyes temporarily, breathing slowly again. "So, mom I don't need you to remind me to stay calm or to only use magic in a controlled environment or to use it sparingly. I know its dangers. I know its risks. I'm scared too, okay?"

"Oh Emma, honey-"

But her words were cut short by the creaking sound of a door opening and the ominous clack of descending footsteps.

Someone was coming.

Mary Margaret and Emma exchanged loaded looks.

Okay so there we have it; what did you all think? I'm going to try to push along the plotline a little quicker from now on! Anywho, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Hope you all enjoyed :)