Note: GUEST reviewers, please have the courtesy to at least make up a name, will you? Just using "Guest" is lazy as fuck.

Note to Guest (who left a review about bad names): Do you not understand the idiotic irony of what you just did? Seriously. (see above)

PART II

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

IT IS A SILLY PLACE

Get it together get it together get it together, Emma recited in her head as she paced.

But it was hard when all she could think about overhearing Neal and Hook's talk about her, and the ways in which Neal was disgusted by her... which she wanted to be angry about, accept they were the source of her self-loathing, so that would be kind of hypocritical... and she was trying to be less hypocritical... which wasn't easy, since that was just one more quality from the Jones family genetic cesspool to lump in with the alcoholism, the insecurities, and a variety of other neurosis she'd really thought she had a handle on until getting to Storybrooke and being immersed in nasty-habits-reinforcing family values.

Emma fingered the keychain and looked woefully at the little trinket that she no longer deserved to wear.

Of course Neal wouldn't want to be with her. The only thing he wanted to be less than like his father was like his mother, so choosing her would be the equivalent of that.

If only they could go back to their original ignorance about who she was, back to Portland, and made different choices, Emma lamented. Maybe she could have been good, had all that nasty stuff cut out, or at least tamed like her father who'd turned out a pretty decent guy thanks to his kindhearted mother her mother - who for all of her own problems, at least was a positive influence in curbing David's violent impulses.

In that other life she'd thought she could be that for Hook, but she'd ended up having to lose so much of herself for it and gained nothing meaningful in the end - because he wasn't really a deeper person than he let on, he really was just a pretty slut who wasn't that nice or that clever.

That relationship had been all secrets and lies built on more secrets and lies until she'd had herself fooled that she was happy - which pathetically wasn't even that hard when she'd never really known what happiness was apart from one fleeting afternoon when a very different future had been just within reach.

Emma used to dream about that life in prison, and finally went to Tallahassee to excise it like removing a tumor and two years of emotional chemotherapy and radiation until she could finally wake in the morning without expecting Neal beside her and a baby crying in the other room of a beach house that didn't exist.

She'd left that life and that Emma in Tallahassee. She'd had to become a harder version of herself to do it, bury deep many parts of her that would always be tied to Neal and her son. Henry finding her had started to force some of those parts up. Finding Neal... she'd felt more of them fighting for daylight, and that had terrified her so much that she'd avoided him, felt relief both times he died, and never tried to save him.

The truth was, she hadn't wanted to be that version of herself again, because she'd spent the years since convincing herself that she was weak and stupid. She was the Emma who kept trusting people and being hurt and left behind. She was the Emma who wasn't strong enough to keep the only family she might ever have. And that Emma certainly wasn't strong enough to be a Savior.

She'd thought the Emma of her own creation was the better and stronger one. And that Emma had never really taken down the walls around her heart. Oh, everyone thought she had, and she told herself that she was - but in a way that she was still the one in control, because being in control was being strong. What a joke! She hadn't been in love and she hadn't been in control. It was all just one big farce that began in that hospital room when she turned away from her crying baby and told herself that she couldn't be a mother.

And now her son would always look at her with a hint of betrayal and disappointment in his brown eyes.

Eyes he got from his father who'd endured centuries of torment without breaking, who'd yet given up his happiness without thought more than once - who would always see her as weak and foolish for not fighting to stay the person he'd fallen in love with in spite of her suffering.

Get it together get it together get it to-

"Well well," an oily voice uttered from the darkness, "who have we here?"

"That could be poisoned!" Neal hissed at Hook as the pirate, now decked out in much fancier but still rakish clothes, popped an hors d'oeuvre into his mouth as they loitered in the ballroom near the bottom of the grand staircase.

"Then I'll die with a full stomach," Hook shot back with a shrug, then smirked as another one of the ladies in waiting batted their eyes at Neal and amended, "You know they're only into you because they're sand stoned. The stuff must make bookish unattractive midgets sexy."

"But not alcoholic idiots with bald spots."

"Wanker."

"At least I don't need to get back a giant ship to compensate for the size of mine."

"Just for that, Nealfire," Hook huffed and took the plate of crab puffs, "you are not getting any of..." He trailed off as he noticed Emma descending the staircase. "Bloody hell," he uttered, "what is she wearing? It's so... girlie and flowery and unbecoming. She looks like my cousin at her tenth birthday party when Nana tried to sacrifice her to the Old Gods to ensure a bountiful harvest.

"Nana was a bit crazy," amended Hook, as if that was necessary.

Looking awkwardly between them - this was their first time alone together since she'd run off - Emma greeted, "So..."

"You look stupid, Swan," Hook broke the ice. "Why are you the only one dressed like that? Is the King planning to sacrifice you to fertilize his botanical garden? If he sets the Merlin Tree on fire, you should be worried."

"I'll keep that in mind," Emma groaned. "Look, about earlier..."

"You hate me, you blame me for your turning out to be an obviously unkind individual who injures persons just trying to turn over a new leaf and help the greater good and all that out of an inability to forgive even family for errors in judgment. I get it. I feel the same way about my father, may he rest in peace."

"You killed him," Neal hissed.

"Yes, and I feel bad about that. I sent Liam a card with a rainbow that I drew myself. It wasn't very good, I'll admit, but it's the thought and apology that counts."

"'I'm sorry your father is dead, especially because I killed him?'" Neal scoffed.

"It's the thought that counts."

"Whatever," sighed Emma. "Look, we have to get Excalibur away from that sleeze. As long as he has it, he can kill us all. No magic can protect against being wounded by that blade. It also controls Merlin, so we have to get it before freeing him."

"Okay, but how? And how are we going to free Merlin? Chop the tree down with the sword?" asked Neal.

"I don't know. Last time's plan won't work," grimaced Emma. "I'll try to think of something, though. You guys focus on the sword since I can't touch it."

"Why-"

"I just can't," she told Hook. "And by 'you guys', I mean Hook being a distracting asshole who can bromace Farther-"

"Farther?"

"Faux-Arthur."

"That is way worse than Emmabilia!" Neal complained.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit tired from fighting ancient evil spirits to get a damned magical matchbook," Emma snapped. "As I was saying, Hook, you distract Farthur. Neal, you get the sword."

"Do you even know how to use a sword, mate?" scoffed Hook.

"I had a cutlass for three hundred years!"

"You were fourteen and you used it to cut down vines."

"The thing is half a sword. It's not even fit to be used in an actual sword fight," Neal argued, "and anyway, the blade is dark magic poisoned to send anyone it nicks to Hell."

"Not actual Hell," Emma interjected.

"Close enough to Hell. Cora and Pan are there. Would you like to pay them a visit?" Neal threatened. "I'm sure Emma won't save your dumbass wanker self this time!"

"Like she didn't save yours?"

"Stop it!" Emma hissed. "Now is not the time for another infantile tantrum over a piece of magic shit!"

Neal snorted. "Like yours before you brought Captain Syphilis here back from the dead?"

"We are not getting into that here."

"Why not? This is where it all started," countered Neal, crossing his arms in indignation. "Right here, in this castle, in the land of betrayal and fucked up rape love advertised as beautiful destined epic amazingness. Remind me again, how long did it take you to throw the symbol of our life together, our love, the promise you made to me, into the gutter and replace it with his brother's creepy ass ring that my mother wore and he pried off her dead hand to wear around his neck as a momento of carrying out revenge? Oh, let's see, six weeks."

"That's not fair. I didn't choose to lose it when I was transported without my clothes to the Enchanted Forest!"

"It would have gone with you if you'd actually given a fuck!" Neal shot back. "And you had plenty of time to go looking for it back in Storybrooke after you mind fucked everyone!"

"I was too busy mind fucking everyone!"

"Yeah, with dreamcatchers! You didn't even think of mine. You didn't give that asshole over there the real story behind it either!"

"Because he asked about it when I brought it back from New York and I didn't want to tell him! Just like I didn't want to tell him about the keychain if he asked! Just because he was perfectly happy to share his sordid stories of his murder rings didn't mean I wanted him to know everything about my past shit, okay!?"

"Hey! I'm right here!" Hook grumbled.

"And it sounded more romantic," Emma continued, ignoring him, "that you gave it to me a long time ago than that we found it in the room where we fucked for the last time and then I didn't see it again for twelve years, and finally retrieved it from your apartment where your murderer was raping your friend after your death and after he tossed all your other stuff in the trash!"

"So, we were just 'fucking' now?" Neal growled. "And don't give me that bullshit, Emma. You let Hook riffle through your keepsake box. You got all cute and cuddly over it, cuddly with this douchebag you'd been dating for like a goddamn week who a couple weeks before that was trying to murder you!"

"I was emotionally vulnerable! I missed you, but you weren't there. He was! And my foster mom was trying to turn me into a host for her dead sister's soul! It was a really complicated time in my life!"

"Every time in your life was complicated, Emma! And he was a murdering rapist who left you and everyone you loved for dead!" Neal shot back.

"You left me!" Emma snapped loudly enough that people in the vicinity stopped smoozing to look.

"You're making a scene, luv," Hook hissed, but was again ignored.

"Not for dead!" Neal shot back. "And not to go to prison, so don't even try it. Yeah, I fucked up trusting August, but you don't get to throw that shit at me when you decide to make that splintered asshole your new BFF. And you can't just blame all your bad judgment and screwing over your family on being distracted by magical shit."

"I KNOW!" Emma cried and threw her hands in the air in defeat.

"What do you want me to say, Neal?" she continued, "I was fucking angry with you for dying again? I wanted to destroy everything good that we shared so not having it wouldn't hurt so much, including our son? I'm fucked up, okay? I know that! I ruined everything because I was afraid and selfish and angry, and I thought I could just escape the past and all of that hurt by rebranding all of the good stuff as... dark crap... or giving it to Hook. If I erased you from my life, then I wouldn't feel guilty that I didn't choose you, that I kept not choosing you and something real and painful, and then I could be happy with the shallow sham of love I needed to not feel alone."

"Happy with someone who called you an orphan, who called you pathetic," Neal reminded.

"He hurt me, but so did you," Emma reminded.

"Yeah, but he meant it. And you forgave him. I didn't, and you damned me to your personal Hell. You left me to... whatever while trying to save the souls of assholes."

Neal shook his head. "You sold out to the other side, Emma. You foresaked everything it is to be a real hero in favor of a fake one, of a villain wearing a hero's mask. And I know you got your soul ripped out, but I can't just pretend all of that stuff you did, with or without it, never happened. You don't need a soul to do the right thing. Just like you don't need a heart to love. And with or without... you gave up on me. How can I ever trust you again? How can I ever truly love you when you're related to him? I mean, you had twice the good in you even without a soul, and you still couldn't love me."

"I'm sorry," Emma sniffed and for the second time hurried away, nearly knocking over staring guests as she did.

Among them, King Farther uttered to Guinevere, "Well, they've certainly brought some much needed drama to our kingdom. I can't recall the last time we had some tragically operatic love affair, what with this being a land of perfect true love."

"Yes, it is entertaining, Smoopiekins," agreed the Queen with glazed eyes.

King Farther moved to lay his hand upon the hilt of his sword... and frowned to find the hilt was covered in grease and crumbs... and wasn't even actually his sword, but a well-worn cutlass smeared with crab puff crumbs.

King Farther balled his hands into fists and shouted, "THE OUTSIDERS ARE SPIES OF THE DARK ONE! FIND THEM AND KILL THEM!"

In the courtyard, Emma collapsed to the ground, giving into the tears she'd been holding in for over a day and probably longer than that. She'd been holding out some stupid hope that Neal would change his mind, that the moment of affection at Granny's was more than just a... a friendly gesture to make her feel better.

As she bawled on the ground like an over-dramatic teenage girl pranked at the high school prom, suddenly there was swirl of magic and a hand reached down to pull her up.

"We meet again, Emma."

As she gaped at Merlin and wiped away her tears, Neal and Hook came running out of the castle, chased by guards.

Merlin simply waved a hand and just like that they were all whisked away and redeposited in the field of Middlemists, which had no business being in bloom this early in spring.

"See?" Neal nodded, "told you it would work, mate."

It took Emma several moments to realize what had happened, because of course, Neal knew how she'd freed Merlin the last time.

"You conned me!" she shouted.

Neal looked mildly apologetic as he responded, "Sorry?"

Emma shoved him hard. "You complete and utter jerk!"

"Oh, come on, it was a page from your playbook!" Neal defended. "And it worked."

Emma sniffed. "So... everything you said back there... and in the forest...?"

"I figured you'd be eavesdropping like you did on Henry and Violet," Neal conceded, "but in case you weren't, I had to be pretty brutal at the ball."

"So... you don't hate me? You don't think I'm a... a genetically defective slut?"

"Naw. I'm not proposing marriage. I still don't know if we can get to being able to make each other happy as we did once," Neal told her honestly, "but I do want to believe that you're sorry and forgive you, Emma. I'm not promising it'll be overnight. You hurt me. You hurt our son. And being here is a painful reminder of that. But I'm not against getting a coffee now and then, seeing where we stand. Seeing if the Emma Swan I fell in love with is still in there, underneath all of the bitterness and magical bullshit."

With a shrug, he amended, "I know once you start changing, it's not so easy to change back. I'm not Baelfire anymore, not sure if I could ever be again. Not sure if I even want to be, honestly. I think we're both a mess. And maybe too broken to fix each other now, in that way. But you're still my friend, Emma. Or, at least, I'd like to be again."

Well, it wasn't what she really wished for, but it was a start. Emma managed a sniffed, "I'd like that too," and hugged Neal tightly.

"Your dress and that flower wreath thing really are stupid," he chuckled.

"Jerk," Emma huffed, and lightly shoved him away.

Merlin smiled in his creepy hippie guru way and Hook rolled his eyes and munched on another crab puff.

"You stole the tray of crab puffs!?" Neal exclaimed.

"And some silverware and a lass' garter belt and another wench's broach..."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Did my father bewitch your hook as part of some nefarious deal involving the cleaning of your coat?"

"No. That's ridiculous. I told you, I have catlike reflexes."

"The only thing cat-related to you is the amount of pussy you've plundered," Emma scoffed, then amended, "oh, wait, that's right, you shag your conquests in the-"

"Ahem," Merlin cut them off. "Arthur-"

"Farther," Hook corrected. "Or are you intending to besmirch the good name of your former adolescent pawn? Or just trying to not tell us all the facts like big important wizards like to do - or not do as it were. We saved your bloody arse. Might want to do us the kindness of full disclosure, mate."

"No, you played right into Farther's hands," Merlin shot back. "And why would I want to bestow kindness on someone who's only reason for not killing me in cold blood is a conscience that amounts to 'I might still be able to have intercourse with my great granddaughter if I play nice'. I'm sorry, mate, but we are not bros."

"How do you even know what 'bros' is let alone that other stuff?" huffed Hook, annoyed.

"How did I appear to little Emma in a movie theater when I was trapped in a tree by my ill-fated true love centuries ago?" countered Merlin and he shrugged. "It's not important. What matters is that I cannot take us beyond the borders of Camelot. The spell cast upon the people here to make them loyal to their king reinforces a barrier that keeps everyone in. We must free them from their thrall."

"Can't Excalibur do that?" asked Neal. "I mean, with the Promethian spark, we unbind you from it and my father from the Dark One which'll be destroyed."

"No, it was not involved in the casting of the Obedience Spell. That was the Avalon sand. For that we must free Guinevere and the rest will follow. She was the first victim."

"How do we do that?" asked Emma.

"True love."

"Oh, naturally," groaned Neal. "Everything is solved by true love."

"Bugger off. True love is a beautiful thing, Nealfire!" Hook argued.

"Yeah, it's really beautiful when you're proclaiming it during sex not in the arse with your own great granddaughter that resulted in her being impregnated with the evil future mother of the Antichrist and regularly thereafter while also shagging on the side Henry's wife who also bore your bastard spawn and got Emma killed."

"Thanks for that reminder," Emma grumbled, throwing Neal a glare.

Hook scowled. "Yes, well, real true love is a beautiful thing. Obviously, that was some sort of misunderstanding for which I am now going to have to join the bloody Crocodile in therapy with the Cricket."

"Knowledge is power," smirked Neal.

"Sometimes it's just disgusting," sighed Emma.

Hook offered a crab puff from his pocket and she glared. "Seriously?"

"What? It's not my flask. And they're quite delicious."

"I hate you," Emma hissed. "I really really hate you."

Arms crossed, she stomped off a ways, intentionally pausing to stomp on the flowers in her path as she went like a petulant and destructive child.

"Well?" Hook elbowed Neal. "Go talk to her."

"Hell no."

"What do you mean 'hell no'? She just hugged you! You're on her good side. And she's your mental ex-girlfriend."

"Because having to defend anything about you will put me on her bad side. And I'm also not going to defend anything about you, because it's all amoral and disgusting. And she was your mental descendant first."

Hook scowled and turned toward Merlin... who had vanished.

"Sonofa-"

The pirate shoved his remaining crab puffs at Neal. "Fine. But you owe me."

"Actually, after leaving me to be hunted Hunger Games style by an immortal psychopath for centuries," Neal countered, "no, actually, I don't ever owe you anything."

"Go away, Hook!" Emma snapped the moment she heard his pointy boots crunching in the snow behind her.

"You know that doesn't work on me, luv. It's part of my charm! I never give up on those I care for."

"You mean those you stalk to try and shag?" Emma scoffed and glared.

"Yes, well, I am starting to rethink the shagging part. While I'm sure there's enough generations between us to reduce the incest to socially acceptable levels," Hook retorted, "you're rather mental. I preferred you when you moped and cried and begged me for rum and a flirtatious exchange. When saying 'go away' meant 'try harder and I'll kiss you'. No you scream about everything and hit me. Not really my thing."

"It's what you deserve," Emma grated out. "You're a lying piece of scum, Hook, and if you knew what it meant to care about anyone, you wouldn't have gone along with Neal's shitty con!"

"I care about myself and getting out of this kingdom alive, and that required going along with Nealfire's plan. You weren't exactly a font of wisdom, Swan, so we devised something of a plan hinging on your emotional instability, which I know was a bit harsh, but all things considered, I don't know why it's me you're incensed over when the chap still doesn't want you to be his wench. Frankly, Swan, I don't know what you see in him."

"Truth," answered Emma grimly. "He's the only one who's ever given me that."

"Apart from lying about being the son of Rumplestiltskin from a magical land of fairies and ogres and just now when he said he loathed you and thought you were a pathetic, irredeemable loser?"

Emma glowered, "Yeah, apart from that."

"It's rather a big something on both counts. I left you for dead and then you fell in love with me, did you not? And I apparently called you a useless whore or something equally insulting and you risked your life for me," scoffed Hook. "I'd call your wanting to be with Neal rather suspect and send you to therapy."

"Why does everyone keep saying I need therapy!?" Emma growled. "And the last person I want relationship advice from is you. You didn't tell me about trading your ship -and left out the part about how you got it by leaving Eric to die - just because you were looking for the right moment when I was at my most emotionally vulnerable to spring your half truth revisionist history of your half-assed, ass-tapping-motivated 'heroism' on me so I'd make out with you!"

"That never happened!"

"For me it did, and don't pretend that's not why you were waiting outside of Granny's!"

"Okay, fine, but there's no need to mention 'ass-tapping', Swan! You know it's a... soar point for me!"

"You're an asshole, Hook," Emma told him with a snort. "I ruined my second chance swooning over you. And now I've ruined my third because I chose being with you over doing the right thing every time. I was juvenile and selfish. Maybe I still am. Stuck in some arrested development compounded by some fairy tale bullshit emotional and intellectual regression."

She sighed and picked up one of the broken flowers, remembering how she'd once held one as such a cherished possession.

"Neal got stuck as a teenager in Neverland and I got stuck with the emotional maturity of a teenager in the Land Without Magic," Emma grumbled. "Which is maybe what was kindred about you and me," she directed at the pirate. "Too emotionally stunted assholes who wanted to believe they could take two wrongs and make a right out of it so they wouldn't have to take accountability for any of the lives they ruined."

Shaking her head, Emma tossed the flower back to the ground and told him, "But I don't want to be that anyone. I want to grow up. I don't want some shallow teenage infatuation advertised as epic passionate romance. I want actual love, an actual connection with someone that's not just... smashing mouths and bumping genitals and pretending that means something because it feels good. Love isn't always intense, heart-wrenching emotion. And sometimes that feeling is just a mess of endorphines that screw up what your brain processes as attraction, so you almost die with someone enough times, you think that feeling means you love them - when it's just that you both love not dying - in close proximity.

"Well, that and your MILF fetish."

"What? I wouldn't touch milk if it was mixed with rum!"

"MILF, you idiot," sighed Emma. "It means you have a sexual obsession with women who've born children. Put together that you chose me, mother of your last lover's grandchild who is also your great grandchild, and you have one hell of an oedipal complex... and that means you want to fuck your mother."

"I know who Oedipus is!" Hook huffed. "And I do not want to fuck my mother! She's dead. I draw the line at necrophilia, Swan."

He glanced around and muttered, "Where the hell did that wizard go anyway?"

AN: Did you know that in The Wickerman the main protagonist is Neil looking for a girl who's last name is Morrison? The bit about the card is taken from the "Undercover Ren" sketch on SNL when Undercover Boss Kylo Ren gives a condolences card to the officer whose son he killed.

Next up: Two black characters appear in a scene together and neither of them is murdered by a white "hero".