Neal roused several hours later. Blinking and feeling quite disoriented, he looked about. Neal found himself lounging in a slight incline as he lay atop a patchwork quilt. Bright light streamed through the curtained windows and illuminated the whitewashed space. His father sat at his beside, gently stroking Neal's brow with a gnarled hand.

"Oh, Bae, how are you m'boy?" he asked. Gold dropped his hand away from Neal's brow and then he leaned against the back of the wicker chair. He rested his hands on his knees as he stared at his son.

For a moment, Neal didn't say anything. He laid there looking at the whitewashed ceiling; studying the cracks and crevices that flawed the wood. Brain feeling fogged, he momentarily forgot where he was or what had happened the night before. As sleep left him, it all came back to him and it felt like his heart broke all over again. Sitting up, Neal put his head between his knees to slop himself from hyperventilating.

"How did you get here?" Neal asked instead of answering the question. He wasn't really sure how he was feeling so answering the question wasn't possible right now. "You need to be resting."

"Don't worry," Rumplestiltskin hushed. "I didn't drive. Belle brought me. She's gone to get your car and pick up Henry. So, Bae how are you, lad?"

Neal still ignored the question. Instead, he got off the bed and made it. His eyes lingered on the clock - 3:15. It meant Henry would be home soon and then he would have to tell his son Emma was gone. That wasn't something he looked forward to. "Do you want someone to eat?" the grieving father asked. Granted, Neal was hungry, but he wanted to cook something just to have something to do.

"Baelfire," Gold cautioned. The father seemed to be able to see what Neal was doing and he didn't like it all. There was little Rumple could do about it, except to give a warning and a caution to his child. Avoiding feelings was a futile thing.

"I know, papa. I know. Now, do you want something to eat or not?" Neal replied. The words came out a bit shorter and firmer than he meant it to come out, but he did not apologize for his outburst. "I'm making grilled cheese." Henry and him always had a grilled cheese after Henry got off school. It had become their tradition. Neal was not going to break it - not now or ever.

In the kitchen, he got the butter, bread, and pre-sliced cheddar cheese out. Greasing a skillet, he laid three slices of bread into the butter. Hands that shook slightly put the milk-food on the first slice of bread. Those same hands put lids on them and turned the stove onto medium-low.

"That sounds lovely," Gold whispered as he watched his son work in the kitchen. "So...ah...how is the wee little one?"

Neal let go of the butter knife when asked about the newborn. It clattered against the metal sink. Staring at his father, he fought off tears. That question solidified the situation; it made it all too painfully real. Sucking in air, he exhaled through his nose.

"She's..she's tiny. And they had to put a feeding tube in her. But, the doctor's say she's strong," Neal stammered. "She's perfect and beautiful. She looks like Emma."

Gold had tears in his eyes and trickling down his face. However, he looked proud at being a grandfather for a second time. "I can't wait to see her, son. What's her name?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"Lucy. Her name's Lucy," Neal whispered as he flipped the grilled cheese. "It's what Emma wanted..."

The door opened and Henry came barging in. The twelve-year-old plopped the bag down. "What's wrong? Something's wrong! Tell me. Dad?" Henry demanded. He stood in the middle of the room waiting and watching in defiance.

Neal turned the heat off. Sliding it on a cold burner, he went over to his son. "Henry," Neal began. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your mom had the baby..."

"Can we go see her? Please?" Henry begged. A large smile spread over his face as he stared up at his dad with wide eyes. "What's her name? What's she look like? I bet she looks like mom!"

Under Neal's hand Henry bounced on the tips of his feet. Those wide eyes broke the father's heart. Telling his boy the news was about the cruelest thing Neal ever had to do. "Her name's Lucy and yeah she does, kiddo," he began. His voice wavered.

"Dad... what's the matter? What's wrong? Is Lucy okay? What about mom?" Henry asked. He took a step back from his father.

"Mom didn't make it. She died," Neal breathed. "And...Lucy's in the NICU, but she's gonna be okay."

Henry's eyes widen as he shakes his head. Terror clouds his eyes. "She can't be..." Henry protested. "She's the Savior!" The step Henry took back, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father.

Neal wrapped his own arms around Henry. He buried his face into his hair and breathed in. "I'm not gonna leave you. I promise," Neal vowed.