By the time they reach Neal's apartment, the blonde has stopped crying and she follows stiffly a step behind him. For a while, she had allowed him to guide her with a gentle hand on her forearm, but only for so long as it had taken her to pull herself under control. Now, as Neal shakes out his keys and wrestles them into the large front door of the apartment complex, she simply waits with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
She supposes that part of the reason she's allowed herself to be brought here is down to nothing more than pure exhaustion. She can only remember feeling this drained in her adult life once before, and she wonders if the almost nonexistent recovery period between finding out the truth about the Curse and following her young love into a dingy, ill-lit hallway might end up having adverse effects on her health.
She smirks wryly at the notion and follows Neal into the elevator at the end of the hall.
They ascend in silence; Neal watching Emma, and Emma watching the orderly flashing of passing floors. When a bell tolls to let them know that they've reached their destination, she moves awkwardly out of the way so that he can slip past her and lead them onwards. Stopping outside a nondescript door, he looks over his shoulder at his unwilling guest while inserting his key into the slot, muttering a little sheepishly
"It's a bit of a mess... I wasn't really expecting company."
She shrugs but doesn't commit any further, and he turns swiftly back to the door so that she won't witness the way his face falls.
He had known today would be difficult, and had known that she would be angry with him... What he hadn't been prepared for was just how much grief she's been carrying around with her for the last ten years, and her breakdown at the loss of her child is something he has no clue how to fix. Back in the old days, he supposes he might have held her, although, back then, she had always seemed strangely indestructible, and it had been he who had occasionally needed someone to turn to.
Opening the door, he stands aside to let the blonde in; holding his arm out for her coat, but finding no real surprise in the fact that she shakes her head and keeps red leather zipped up as high as it will go. Hanging his own windbreaker over a hook on the back of the door, he watches silently as her eyes dart about the room; cataloguing his things, his life, his possessions.
Him.
And he lets her; wondering what she makes of what she sees, but this new, grown-up version of his Emma is a closed book. It's only when her gaze falls upon what hangs in the window above his kitchen sink that he catches a flicker of emotion, but still, she says nothing.
He doesn't miss the way she takes an involuntary step in that direction, however, and he offers her a gentle nod of encouragement; watching as she gives in to her curiosity and pads over to pull down the dreamcatcher and examine it.
"To ward away nightmares... What a load of shit."
She muses quietly as she turns the complex web over in her hands; fingering one of the beads thoughtfully.
"I didn't keep it for its mystical qualities."
He points out from behind her, and she turns with the old keepsake in her hand to study him with an unreadable expression.
"Well, perhaps that was a mistake."
She replies finally. Sighing, he shakes his head and beckons her to follow him into the small bedroom at the back of the apartment.
"No mistake, Emma... That dreamcatcher has hung in that window for the last three years - since I bought the place - just as it has hung in the countless places I've lived before."
"I'm supposed to be impressed that you kept a novelty item swiped as a souvenir of a motel fuck?"
The blonde demands, and Neal grimaces, her words hurting him unexpectedly as he remembers how much more had gone on in that dingy little room, and knows, deep down, that she does too.
"No. Not impressed... Three days after you started living in the car with me, before we started going together, we stopped off at a gas station just outside of Glenfair and you came with me around the back of the building to use the restrooms and have a smoke... There was a chain-link fence back there, and we'd shared the better part of a bottle of Wild Turkey since leaving Portland and driving around, and by then I had started crushing on you pretty hard... When we went to leave, I scaled the fence rather than walk around it even though it was about eleven feet of close-cut wire, remember? And you?... Well, you came climbing right along after me, dress and all, and then you stood there in the middle of the parking lot and pointed out the faults in my technique... What I'm trying to say is, I couldn't impress you then, and I'm not trying to impress you now... This has nothing to do with your feelings towards me."
"Then why are we in your apartment?"
She inquires a little shakily, trying to put a stop to the sepia-toned picture reel playing maddeningly in her head. She's beginning to think this is a bad idea; having long-ago swept Neal and what had happened to her because of him beneath one of the dusty floorboards of her mind. He'd been right in his wording back in the bar; she has indeed catalogued his influence on her past, and she has labelled the resulting mess 'private and confidential: do not open'... Only, now that she's faced with the man himself, there are good memories that come with the bad, and she doesn't quite know what to do with this discovery.
"We're here for you."
"Uh. How's that?... Because, I'm not sure if I haven't been making myself clear here, but I'd really rather be anywhere else right now... Like, 'walking the plank over shark-infested water while being poked in the back with a stick' anywhere else."
Neal pays this no mind; gesturing to his bed in a half-hearted request that she take a seat, before simply sighing when she remains where she stands and lowering himself down onto his knees to rummage around in the darkness beneath.
"We're here because you believe that I did what I did because I didn't love you or care about you, and I need you to know that that isn't true... Not so that I can feel any better about this - it's too late for that, I know that - but because of the way you were made to feel like you didn't matter... You did, Emma."
He keeps his head down as he speaks; not wanting to meet her eyes. He knows that what he will find there will be cold and unforgiving, but he also knows that if he were to look up at her, he would find doubt, and while the first two prospects hurt him in the same way as her fist had hurt him yesterday when making sharp contact with his face, the latter knowledge hurts his heart in the same way that lying awake last night and thinking about the fact that she had been just seventeen last time he'd seen her had hurt with such unexpected ferocity.
Pulling out an unmarked cardboard box, he places it on the bed without a word, before moving back to sit against the wall to give her space.
"What's that?"
"Open it, take a look."
"Neal..."
"It's not a trick, Emma. It's not-... It's just-... It's just something I want you to see."
He sighs. Narrowing her eyes and silently cursing the frantic beating of her heart hammering away inside her chest, she inches towards the bed, before thinning her lips and perching on the very edge of the mattress in an oddly prim fashion.
"You know, when you do that, it makes you sound like you're trying to establish authority..."
She murmurs quietly, and Neal frowns up at her in confusion.
"When I do what?"
"You keep saying my name."
"I-... Well, I-... I mean... I don't mean it like-... Shit, I just haven't seen you in-"
"-It's alright, it's just kind of funny... Where I come from now, there are only a handful of people that call me by my first name. My friends... And yet, here you are, throwing it into every other sentence."
"Well... Then tell me what you'd rather I call you."
Neal answers in a low voice; thrown by her words. This newfound habit she speaks of is something he'd been unaware he was doing, but to be called out on it is still decidedly unpleasant.
How did you get this way?
But she has answered this question already.
Ignoring his mumbled response, she runs a finger over the top of the box and bites her lip before removing the lid.
"Oh..."
She's unsure what she had imagined would be inside, but the feeling as though she's been punched in the stomach leads her to believe that what she does find hadn't been it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the box's contents, before she gingerly edges out one of the numerous sheets of paper that line its top.
"Mad-libs..."
She wants to laugh - after all, the idea of storing such a thing is hysterical - but no sound comes out. Picking up several time-yellowed sheets, she scans them slowly with watering eyes. Blocky upper-case print and messy scrawled cursive blemish the blank spaces available on the pages to create nonsense stories and sentences. A large number of the filled-in suggestions are pervertedly crass, but a fair few of them are also fantastical and would be entirely at home on the pages of Henry's book. Here and there, the ink has smeared and the paper has been stained with murky fingerprints, and she can almost smell the unhealthy burn produced by the bug's vents when the heat had been cranked up high, and she can almost hear their maniacal laughter while recanting one another with their idiot masterpieces, passing a bottle between them.
Swallowing thickly, she shuffles through a series of smaller slips and cards; each of them bearing no semblance to any of the others, save for being marked in a hand she instantly recognises as her own.
Messages scrawled onto the back of flyers: 'Wake me up when you get back', 'Have gone for a walk', 'Neal's gay for Springsteen'... Illegible names and phone numbers scratched into the flimsy wad of a napkin. A dirty limerick illustrated, dated, signed, and marked with a slightly wonky copyright symbol on the inside of a matchbook cover.
Beneath the litter of paper, her fingers brush over something soft, and she spreads the cards and leaflets out carefully on the bed to uncover a swatch of worn navy cotton. Pulling it out with a hitched breath, she unfolds a small, faded t-shirt with a scruffily unravelled hem. It's a nondescript garment, save for the fact that she remembers wearing it favourably and often back in the days of 'Neal and the Car.'
"It was on the backseat after you-... When you were gone... You can have it back if you like."
Neal speaks up quietly from his position on the floor, and she glances up; distracted.
"... You kept all of this?... For all this time?"
"Everything... To my own detriment, sometimes."
"How so?"
"Well, it's a funny thing, but most women tend not to take too kindly to the fact that their partner keeps what my ex-fiancé dubbed a 'shrine to past love' under their bed."
"You were engaged?"
"Briefly... There were a number of reasons why our relationship was doomed from the start, but that box - and, more importantly, what it represented - was perhaps one of the ones we mentioned least but thought about most. But, that's my issue, not yours... My father played a role in my failure to act as a regular loving husband should, as did several personal faults that I suppose could be true of anyone. Maeve also had her own hang-ups, which didn't help."
"Right... Do you have a box under there for her, too?"
The blonde snipes, but there's no real malice in her tone, and Neal simply offers a small smile and shake of his head.
"Nope, you're the only girl I've ever boxed up... I have pictures of her - of Maeve - and some of my other long-term girlfriends... They're knocking around in albums or on my computer, because - break-ups aside - they were a part of my life... I never had any pictures of you, did you know that? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as neither of us ever bought a camera, not even one of those little disposable ones, but it's strange all the same... If I had had any though, they would have gone in there with the rest of your things, because, in spite of wanting to keep everything, I also didn't want to be ambushed by it... By you... Guilt was a big part of that, but it was also this sense of mourning that never received any closure... I understand that you've had personal experiences that made what happened so awful. But, whether you want to admit it - or believe it - or not, part of the reason it hurt so much is because of how much you'd cared for me, and that part was mutual... You were a good lover, Emma, but you were also my friend, and I needed one of those more than I think you might have known at the time."
He shrugs and casts his gaze down to the floor.
"Anyway... It might mean nothing now, after all this time... But I wanted you to show you anyway."
Studying him pensively, Emma bites her lip before leaning to one side to retrieve her wallet from the back pocket of her jeans. Opening it up, she hesitates for a moment, before carefully slipping free a photo she'd printed to fit inside the plastic sleeve meant for her ID. Leaning forward, she offers it to Neal cautiously.
"...This is Henry."
Her voice is low, and her fingers shake when Neal leans over to take the image from her, as though she isn't sure that she wants to give it up. Sitting back and placing her hands delicately in her lap, she waits, worrying the backs of her teeth with her tongue.
They sit in silence for a long time; Neal looking down at the picture in his hand before he speaks rustily.
"... I see he's inherited his mother's weakness for ice cream."
Emma smiles a little bashfully and shrugs.
"Who doesn't like ice cream?"
"I-... I don't understand. You said-"
"-He found me."
"He found you?"
"On my birthday... It was apparently part of the Curse that it had to be then. I was living in Boston, and the kid showed up at my door and introduced himself as my son... As far as birthday surprises go, I think that may be one of the more extreme sorts... He said he needed help, and that I needed to be the one to give it to him."
"A kid showed up on your doorstep asking for help, and you just went with it?!"
To Neal's surprise, Emma chuckles, and he looks swiftly down at his hands as she's suddenly far too familiar to him.
"Hell no!... No, sorry, it's just that if you knew how crazy the last year has been, you'd find it funny too... I went with him, to make sure he was alright. I did just about everything in my power to not go with it"
"You went with him?"
"He'd run away... See, that's another thing I'd probably laugh about if you'd told me the specifics a year back, as the coincidence is just too crazy to comprehend... But, I guess I know now that your dad fabricated the whole thing, and-"
"-Slow down, you're losing me... What coincidence?"
"He's Regina's kid."
"The-... The Evil Queen adopted your baby?"
"She's not-... It's-... It's complicated. Regina adopted Henry, but Gold - your dad, sorry - was the key part of it. At the time, Henry wanted help as he believed his mother - that mother - was evil, but, I mean, that's only because of what it said in the book... Though, I guess she can be pretty intense."
Emma admits with an unlikely smirk.
"... You're defensive of her... Regina... You like this woman?"
"I do. She just made doing so a little challenging at first! Like, 'drugged-me-and-got-me-incarcerated' challenging... Just for the night, mind."
"... She sounds delightful."
"She is."
Emma answers simply, and Neal shakes his head, trying to process all that she's told him. Eventually cluing in on the fact that he's left her waiting in silence, he looks up and offers a slow smile and continues softly
"You're happy though, I can tell... You like the people in that town, in Storybrooke, don't you?"
"Not all of them. My neighbour, I could do without, and of course, there's your dad..."
"He-"
"-But, before the shit hit the fan, I guess even he was tolerable... I'm not sure how things are going to be now that the Curse has broken. It was much too early to tell when we left... But, I am happy there, yes."
"... And you get to see the boy?"
"Every day."
"From the looks of that photograph, he's inherited his mother's grin too... Things are good between you two?"
"Better than I perhaps deserve."
"Don't say that... After everything you've told me, that's not a fair way to look at it. It's not your fault..."
"No. I know that, now... But it's still asking a lot for a kid to forgive what I did."
"You understand him better than most on that count, though..."
"Yes and no. My own situation is... Unique... But, even before understanding what in the hell that situation was, there was a big difference... One I haven't addressed with the woman to thank, and probably should. Henry has been loved since he was three weeks old, regardless of the Curse and what he believed to be pretence... He's learnt to be a much bigger person than I am."
"You are still at odds with your parents?"
"... I'm not ready to discuss that yet, and when I am, it's not going to be with you."
Emma replies evenly, her tone free from any spite that could easily lace those words, but firm. Neal nods slowly, trying to sort out his head. It's a confusing thing to have someone he was once so close to coming back into his life without any warning, only to then be held warily away at arm's length. In theory, he understands - more than he'd like to following their conversation back in the bar - but in practice, it's a little harder, when slipping so close to amicable conversation, to not simply fall back into old habits.
"No. That's fair."
He agrees, and the blonde nods in response and takes back her photo print; slipping it carefully back inside her wallet as Neal watches her thoughtfully. When he speaks again, he does so with a hint of curiosity; suddenly aware that they have yet to really consider something quite extraordinary.
"You did it, though..."
"I did what?"
"You really were the Saviour... You freed all of those people... You broke the Curse..."
"I guess. Yeah."
"Emma, don't you understand how big a deal that is!? It was prophesied! You-"
"-I'm just me, Neal. I didn't do anything particularly out of the ordinary... Regina and Gold are the ones with the power. I just did what needed to be done."
"I doubt that..."
"Then that's your problem."
She sighs and, Neal laughs quietly at this; recalling being told much the same whenever he'd questioned the blonde's tales when they were younger.
"How did you do it? How did it work?"
"Breaking the Curse? The way all fairytales seem to work, no? True love's kiss."
"True love's... Seriously?"
"Seriously. Your dad? Magic and evil, but not all that inventive."
"I-... No, I guess not..."
"All in all, not a terrible price to pay."
"No, but you're sweeping the magnitude of it under the carpet!"
Neal offers with a frown, telling himself that the strange feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach isn't jealousy. Surely not... But he knows that in a way, it is. Not in a logical sense, but then none of this is logical. It's simply strange to discuss the matter of love with a woman he'd once assumed he'd end up with, even if this is just in a platonic sense in this case.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that for your love to have broken the Curse is a big deal! As far as the intricacies of my father's magic go, I have no clue in this case, but I know how things worked in that other world, and the sanctity of the idea... And I know how you work... You don't love easy, Emma."
"That's ironic, coming from you."
"Don't... Don't belittle what we had."
"I'm not. I can't do that without deeming everything I've told you to be a weakness on my part... But I did love you too easy."
"You were a kid. And it was the way it had to be... I suppose this is different anyway, as there's no romantic side to complicate things."
"Excuse me?"
"You were able to comprehend a love for your son. That's amazing-"
"-Oh... No. I do love Henry, of course I do, but it wasn't our kiss that did this."
"Then, who?"
"Regina."
"... You kissed Regina?"
"Multiple times."
The blonde's answer is baited and terse, but Neal also catches a slight tremble to the blonde's words, and he recognises the defiant angle of her jaw. She wants him to lose his top over the answer she's provided him, but he's too stunned to give her the satisfaction.
Too stunned... But also too deeply affected by what she has told him today, to give her the satisfaction.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
He nods slowly, before offering a wary smile that catches the Sheriff off guard and has her frowning at him as though waiting for an ill-meaning punchline. Stretching his legs out in front of him on the carpet, Neal bumps his head back softly against the wall, before regarding the blonde levelly.
"You're in love with her? The woman that's with you and my father?"
"Yes..."
"Good."
"Good?!"
She raises an eyebrow at him, and he laughs wearily.
"Don't take that with any offence... I'm just-... Well, I'm trying to tell myself that I should be glad."
"You're trying to-... Huh?"
"It's a bombshell, Emma, to sit here and discuss 'true love' with you, having only had you back in my life for a little over twenty-four hours... Don't get me wrong; I've dated, had the odd one-night stand, and even got engaged, and I'm sure you've had other relationships too... But I do still-... How do I put this?... Sitting here with you now, there's still an attraction, if you understand me. Because it's you... Maybe attraction isn't the best word... What I mean is-"
"-Stop. I get it."
"Good... I missed you. But I missed you because I liked you. I'm glad you're in love... And, from what I've seen, I'm glad it's with her."
Neal chuckles at the look this last sentiment garners him and elaborates
"When you were beating on me in that alleyway, this random woman seemed to show up out of the blue and pulled you aside... I thought at first she was trying to help me, as, let's face it, you're a decent punch... But then she was all up in my face, springing to your defence... She didn't know me - not the Neal part of me - and for all she knew, you could have been lashing out at me because I'd hurt you first. I could have had a knife! Or a gun!... But, she still wasn't having any of it when she was worried I might harm you, despite you being more than capable of flooring her, I'm sure."
"She has magic-"
"-Which she knows full well she can't go using in the middle of the street... It had nothing to do with power, Emma, it had to do with protection. When you left, she as good as told both my father and I that she would have the hide of either one of us if we tried to hurt you, and that time she was talking about her magic... I'd be lying if I claimed to be ecstatic about the idea of you being romantically involved with someone else... But she cares for you, and I'm happy for you... I guess it also makes perfect sense, really."
"What does?"
Again, that guarded tone, and this time Neal laughs a little more freely; meeting the blonde's glower kindly.
"I imagine there are several contexts to that question?... I was referring to the fact that you - Emma Swan - have found your true love in a woman fabled to be the Evil Queen, and, as I understand it, your family's nemesis... It just suits you is all that I meant. You are, without a doubt, the most contrary and stubborn person I have ever met. It's almost poetic."
"Oh, god."
"And I imagine there are a few amusing stories the two of you might have to share... As for the 'other thing', I'll bet that stirred up quite a shock with some of those that hailed from the Enchanted Forest... It wasn't that it was frowned upon - not in my time, anyway - but more, it just didn't happen. It didn't fit the stories, I guess you could say."
"... It never got so far as being common knowledge before we left."
"Then, you will see over time... Me, though. Am I shocked? No. You are - were - a free spirit. When we met, you were still hanging around with that girl from the casino, and, come on, let's not forget what happened in Vegas... You liked who you liked back then, and I imagine you feel much the same now."
"Yeah."
Emma replies; utterly stunned by Neal's response. It serves to remind her of why she had agreed to go out with him in the first place, but this time... Well, this time that memory is a little less painful... They have both grown up it would seem, and she offers him a shy smile which he reciprocates gladly.
"She's a lucky woman."
"As am I."
"I'm sure... Not too rough on the eyes, either..."
This finally earns him a more genuine grin and a delicate blush of pale cheeks for accompaniment.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?"
"As are you."
He offers simply; waving his hand at the blonde irritably when she wrinkles her nose and adopts a stoic expression once more.
"I'm speaking platonically. You were a good-looking girl when we met, and you've grown up and into your face and body to be an even better-looking young woman."
"And you've grown up into a slighter hairier, bulkier old man."
The Sheriff replies primly, but Neal grins, not missing the small tug to the side of her mouth.
"Charming."
"Well, I was speaking platonically, so..."
"Hmm. As witty as ever, I see."
"Hilarious."
She agrees, and Neal smiles, shaking his head.
"I'm glad you agreed to speak with me, Emma."
"... Are you?"
"Yes... The rest of it - my father, the Curse, the fact that magic exists in this land now - that's all a mess, and it will take time for me to come to terms with it. In reality, and in my head... There's a lot of hurt that exists between my father and myself, and, as for what happens next, I don't know... But, in regards to your part in all of this, I'm grateful you came here and to the bar today... I won't lie to you; it isn't easy for me to finally let you go now, but it's necessary. I've told you a number of times today that I loved you, but, what I should be saying, is that I love you... I do, and probably always will, and I hope you understand what I mean by that... I was worried earlier, back in the bar, that I'd broken you, but, as awkward as it is for me to think about, I can tell from your expression the few times we've mentioned Regina that someone's there to pick up the pieces... And I'm okay with that. But I think, if you were willing to stay around for longer and spend more time with me, I'd find it harder to feel that way, so-"
"-It just isn't meant to be."
"No."
Neal agrees.
"I'm glad I came here, too... And I hope that you understand that I'm not saying this to be mean, but I think I finally understand what it is that I have now... For years, it's been like... Like there was this chunk of, I don't know, ice or something, in the back of my head. I think it was in my heart, too, if that makes any sense, only that part melted and disappeared when the Curse broke... But it's like machinery... I didn't want to meet with you so that you could try to explain things, because I was adamant that you couldn't. There are parts of me that still hurt and are still mad, but that's okay, because I finally understand that there isn't something wrong with me... I've heard that a bunch of times before now, but it's like... That final shard has thawed, and now all the parts are working properly, and I've figured out what to do and how I feel. I-... I wish you well with your father, Neal. And whatever else you might hope for."
"Thank you."
Neal nods, and Emma smiles shyly and gets up to leave; both of them understanding that there is little more to say. Following her out and to the door, he speaks up cautiously.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
"Well, I've been here a while now, and-"
"-And you know perfectly well that that's not what I meant... You're leaving - you and Regina - to go back to Storybrooke... When? Tonight?"
"... Maybe. Maybe tomorrow. I haven't checked travel times, but-"
"-But I won't see you again."
"No. Probably not."
"Ever?"
"... I don't know. That depends on what you and Gold decide to do..."
"I'm not going back with him."
"Then, perhaps not."
"... Are you going to tell the kid?... Are you going to tell him about me?"
"I'd need to speak to his mother before answering that."
"But, he's a good kid?"
"The best."
"And you're happy?"
"Very."
"So this is-... I mean this is..."
"Goodbye?"
She prompts, and Neal nods, and she's shocked to catch a faint glimmer at his lashes, and even more astounded to find her own eyes prickling. Raising her jaw and regarding him levelly, her voice is soft but firm when she continues.
"It is... What happens with you and Gold is your own business, but... Well... He has my number, as you know... That said, I'd rather you not use it... But, he has a postal address, also... If you ever decide that you wanted to use it, you can. But only the mailbox... I have too much going on in the present to focus on the past... But, I won't strive to forget it, either... So, I guess... All that being said... Goodbye."
She holds out her hand awkwardly, and he takes it, shaking it gingerly, before swiftly moving to engulf her in his arms in a fierce embrace. She stiffens, but then relaxes and squeezes him back.
After all... They each deserve this one last shot at a farewell as it should have been.
"Bye, Neal... And good luck."
"Good luck to you, too."
"I've already got it. I just need to tell her that."