A/N: Thanks to all who are following so far; I appreciate the support. An extra big thank you to "Liz" for posting my first review :) This chapter is short, but the next one will be much longer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters

Rating: T for mild language

Chapter 3

Emma wasn't sure what was worse, the look on her son's face when she told him his father was a liar, a thief, and had abandoned her, or the fact that Henry had actually talked her into going to Neal's apartment afterward. He had begged her to take him over there to meet his father, despite everything she had told him.

This was insane. Even if it was her ex's current "abode," as Jones had put it, she had promised herself never to see Neal again unless absolutely necessary.

After all, Emma had never needed to find Neal to get access to his medical history for her son's sake. In fact, come to think of it, she couldn't recall a time when Henry ever even needed medical attention.

Recent events had made her think twice about what Jones had said regarding her and Henry's memories not being real. She had concluded that the handsome, homeless guy who thinks he's a pirate captain was a madman. Well, that's because he obviously was.

Still, when she tried to remember specific details about Henry's childhood: his first word, his favorite toy, their first vacation, anything specific about their past- she couldn't. Emma spent the entire drive over to Neal's apartment trying to prove Jones incorrect, but any details about their past before a year ago were a blur.

Perhaps that's why she was now standing outside a grungy apartment building in the Upper East Side. Well, it was certainly not as modern and impressive as most of the other buildings in the area, and Emma took a quick second to contemplate how he could even afford a place like this. Maybe he was holding the actual tenant hostage, and using it to spy on them, since they lived only a dozen blocks away. Not even a dirt bag like Neal is capable of that, surely.

She unlocked the rod iron gate with the keys Jones gave her and stepped inside cautiously. Emma's boots clanked along the old checkerboard floor of the small lobby and she did a quick scan with her eyes to detect any foul play.

She knew that Jones was in custody, but there was a chance that this was an ambush or Neal had other accomplices. Emma was glad to at least have her pepper spray with her, as owning a hand gun was out of the question for an ex felon. Of course this was all thanks to said dirt bag, who she was about to come face to face with.

No matter how she felt about this, Emma had decided that Henry was to stay in the car and wait until she saw what they were dealing with. It could be that Neal just wanted to meet Henry and try to weasel his way into their lives.

Emma wished she could keep her son as far away from him as possible, but this wasn't about her feelings anymore. If Henry had to face the man who forced him to grow up without a dad, then he would do it on her terms, without being blindsided.

She trudged up the stairs leading to the fourth floor, and the sound of her steps reminded Emma of the ship she had dreamt of earlier that morning. She hadn't thought much more about the dream, but after hearing Jones refer to himself as "Captain Hook," she wondered what a coincidence it was that she had dreamt of a ship the same morning the pretend pirate showed up on her doorstep.

Focus Emma. Let's just get to the bottom of what Neal is up to and make sure he can never hurt you or Henry again.

Emma made her way down the puke-green walls that had been worn down over the years, splintering in many spots as if a woodpecker had done a number on them. She scanned for the apartment number on the key ring. #407.

She could hear faint the murmuring of the other tenants over the quiet and decided that she should probably start this conversation with Neal by yelling, in case he was planning something. If she was lucky the police would show up and Henry could see, first hand, what a loser he was.

That would break Henry's heart, though. The same way Neal broke her heart, except this time she could control the outcome. Henry will most likely get hurt no matter what, but Emma knew she couldn't hide from her past forever. Her son deserved to know the truth, regardless of the cost.

Finding the right number, Emma stopped outside the door and took a quick look around for anyone else who may be in the hallway. Reaching into her pocket, Emma wrapped her hand around the pepper spray and braced herself to come face to face with the man she swore never to see again. She took a deep breath and knocked.

The few seconds of silence that proceeded were some of the longest seconds of Emma's life, outside of the ones after the cop had told her that Neal was gone for good, left her and threw away their dreams of a family in Tallahassee. She waited a minute or so, trying to control her breathing all the while, and decided to knock again.

Nothing.

For all she knew, Neal had seen her coming and was preparing on the other side. She put her finger on the trigger of the pepper spray and took a hesitant step forward. Placing her ear to the door, Emma held her breath and listened for movement.

"Can you hear him in there?"

Emma's feet actually left the floor and she nearly fell over in surprise. Turning to face her son, she kept her voice a hushed shout. "Henry, what are you doing here?! I told you to wait for me outside."

"Do you really think I'm going to sit in a car when there's a chance for adventure?"

Emma scowled at Henry, realizing that his stubbornness and thirst for danger had come honest, from both his parents.

What the hell was she getting them into?

"How did you even get past the gate without the keys?"

Henry grinned mischievously, and Emma saw his father in him at that moment. "I told some lady who lived here that I was locked out without a cell phone."

Emma shook her head. "Kiddo, we agreed that it wasn't safe for you to be here. I'm not sure how he's going to react since we didn't tell him we were coming." Emma didn't want to share her concerns of foul play on Neal's part to Henry, since the thought of being kidnapped might scare him.

"I know, but if he sees me it might make him feel less threatened."

Glancing over at Henry, Emma made another mental note of how mature her son had become. So mature, that sometimes she felt like the child being parented. He had a way of being the voice of reason sometimes, and Emma had to admit she wasn't currently in the most reasonable state of mind.

"Besides," he continued, "you'll need a look-out now since he's obviously not in there."

"A look-out for what?"

Emma could hear a couple chatting at the end of the hallway as they turned to go down the stairs, their footsteps echoing faintly. Suddenly, she understood his meaning.

"Oh no. No way! We are not going into the apartment without him being here. My breaking and entering days are over." Emma winced at that last comment, knowing that she hadn't given him all of the details of her and Neal's past exploits.

Merely raising his eyebrows at that, her son pulled the keys out of Emma's hand and moved around her to open the door.

"Hey! I mean it, Henry. What are we supposed to do if he shows up while we're in there?" Pulling the keys back out of his hand, Emma put both hands on her hips in exasperated defiance.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I meant by me being your look-out."

She was taken aback by that, frowning slightly at her son. "You're telling me that you aren't dying to see inside your father's apartment?"

Henry seemed conflicted a moment, but shook his head. "No, you need someone here to watch out for you. I'll get to see inside eventually, and hopefully he'll want to show me around then."

Her heart broke a little more at the hope in his voice and she tried not to show the sadness on her face, nodding slightly at Henry, who continued.

"I'll stay out here and if I hear anyone coming, I'll just kick the door with my leg." Henry demonstrated, kicking the door casually as if waiting on a bus or train.

Emma was flabbergasted.

"How do you know about that?"

He had done the exact move that Neal showed her how to master when they used to break into cars and once, even an abandoned warehouse.

Henry seemed to consider that deeply for a long moment, somewhat lost in thought, but then shrugged. "I dunno. I think you taught me."

Emma racked her brain quickly, but she couldn't remember that taking place. Why would she ever teach Henry to deceive others when that's what she had wasted so much of her childhood doing? Another unexplained memory she couldn't recall, and she was sure this was something she would remember.

"Come on, mom. We're wasting time out here. Just go in and make sure it's his apartment, and then we'll know that Killian wasn't lying."

"Killian? Who's Killian?"

Henry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Killian Jones. The man in black who gave us these keys."

Oh, right. The deranged pirate-wanna-be who got us into this mess.

She took another few seconds to let her mind mull over that name. Killian Jones. Killian. Suddenly, the name meant something more to her, but she didn't understand the importance. Why hadn't it triggered any pause when he had said it in the car? It obviously stuck in Henry's psyche.

"Ok, let's do this." Henry nudged her forward impatiently, and Emma put the keys in the door knob. "Just go in, look around, and I'll be out here waiting."

Emma looked over her shoulder and then slowly pushed the door open, its hinges screeching loudly in the quiet hallway. Stepping inside, she turned to shut the door, her son's curious eyes peeking through the gap as the door shut with a click.

There was little doubt in Emma's mind that this apartment belonged to Neal. She waited a moment, allowing her legs to come to a halt as her eyes took in the surroundings.

It wasn't very large, a studio, which didn't surprise her considering he was living in a very expensive area of the city. Faint stains covered areas of the dark- painted walls, and he obviously hadn't done anything to hide them, which only further confirmed the apartment belonged to her ex.

Besides a small couch and coffee table, there wasn't much in terms of furniture. The extremely tiny kitchen was cramped in the corner, with only a sink and half-sized oven for use. Random vintage signs and posters were put up in a small attempt at home décor, and the lamp on a side table provided the only light source in the dark room.

Emma flipped it on and noticed, right away, the layer of dust on the table below. Guess he couldn't afford a maid.

The creaks coming from the hardwood floor echoed in her ears as Emma slowly explored the living space. She ran her fingers over the worn covers of the books sitting on a rickety shelf, stopping on one particular title.

Bicycle Thieves, Luigi Bartolini. Emma raised her eyebrow, recognizing the novel that had been turned into a mid 40's film. She and Neal used to borrow the video from the public library and watched it together on the TV and VCR they provided for "research."

The film's neorealism was what drew the both of them to the story, having been surrounded by poverty most of their lives. But Emma enjoyed the dynamic relationship between the father and son, as it provided comfort to her to know that not every parent/child relationship was a living fairytale. Somehow the film gave Emma hope that a family could be obtained over time; that life was what you make of it, not just the circumstances you're placed under.

Neal had never really loved the film himself, mumbling under his breath during the cheesy father and son scenes. Still, he'd watch it with her because he knew how much she loved it. That had meant so much to her then.

With a sad smile ebbing from her lips, Emma decided she had seen enough, acknowledging with certainly that this apartment was his. She placed the book back into the slot, and moved toward the door.

That was when she saw it.

Hanging in the window, swaying slightly from the wind blowing through the old pane, was a dream catcher: their dream catcher.

Her mouth fell open in surprise, as she slowly made her way over to the window. She couldn't believe he had kept this, having found it in a used motel room all those years ago, they had tied it around the rearview mirror of the yellow bug for good luck.

Emma swore to him that the native piece had kept her from having those nightmares that plagued her during the majority of her childhood. He always said it was his presence, and their love, that had cured her of them.

Those words had tortured her a great deal during her lonely hours in prison, since her nightmares did indeed return after he left, and she had neither him nor the dream catcher to comfort her then.

Lifting her hand to pull the catcher off of its hook, Emma lifted on her toes to reach the string that it hung from. Emma held it in her hand, examining it closely and letting the softness of the feathers flow over her fingertips.

'You find something, dearie?'

Emma looked over to the man with thin, wiry hair and his brow was raised in expectation.

She peered back down at the dream catcher in her hand and tried her best to look convincing. 'Nothing. Uh, it just looks like a dream catcher.'

'Yeah, well, if it's nothing, then why are you still holding it?' Seems like it will take more than a white lie to trick this guy.

The man leaned over on the cane he was holding and looked her straight in the eyes. 'You're lying to me.'

Henry walked in between her and the man with an accent, asking what was wrong. She forced her son to go into the bathroom, and the man is on her again.

'You're holding back. I want to know what, and why.'

Emma had started to shake, her fingers tightening into fists to calm herself. 'I'm not holding back.'

'Did he tell you something?' Emma turned her head to the side to try and talk him down.

'Gold-' she started, but he cut her off.

'Did- he -tell you something?'

Turning to look at him, she paused before replying, her hesitation only making the man angrier. 'He didn't say anything.'

'But you talked to him?' He was slowly wearing her down, and Emma could feel herself giving in. She couldn't let him know the truth.

'Don't put words in my mouth.'

He moved toward her slowly, like she was going to suddenly take off down the hallway if he wasn't careful, yet he spoke matter-of-factly. 'You tell me, or I'm going to make you tell me.'

'You don't have magic here.'

He sneered at that, making her cringe slightly. 'Oh, I don't need magic.'

Suddenly, Emma's resolve was back and she narrowed her eyes, standing her ground. 'You really want to do this?'

'Don't push me,' his tone was calm, but his words her like a knife. Somehow, though, Emma maintained her composure.

'Don't push, ME.' She inwardly gave herself props for keeping her words steady.

'We had a deal,' he was pointing at her now and his face grew red. His hand slammed a laundry basket against the wall, and Emma could feel herself slowly backing away from him, now frightened. 'No one, NO one breaks deals with me!'

'Hey!' The volume of the shout should have surprised Emma, but it wasn't how loud, but rather who was yelling that caught her off guard.

Neal stood in the door way, his stance defensive and his brow furrowed at the man beside her. 'Leave her alone.'

Gold staggered back, obviously affected by Neal's entrance. 'Bae…?'

Neal's face was stoic, but he nodded slightly in confirmation. Gold was walking to him now, his arm outstretched.

'You came back for me.'

'No,' he replied, his eyes cold. 'I came back to make sure you didn't hurt her. I know what you do to people who break deals with you.'

Emma heard a rapping at the door and looked around the apartment, dumbfounded. What was that? She had never met the man known as "Gold" before, but his voice sounded familiar somehow. Emma had never had a vision like that while awake, and certainly not of Neal.

Neal. He had looked so much older than the last time she saw him. It was as if he had aged ten years… or twelve. If that was true, then this would have been something that recently happened. How was that possible? She would remember something like that.

"Mom, did you find anything?" Henry had opened the door and was standing in the door way, looking behind him to be sure no one was coming. He looked back at her expectantly. "So, is it his apartment?"

Emma hadn't quite come out of her trance, the dream catcher still in her grasp. She made her way over to Henry, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, Kiddo. This is his place."

She looked at her son, who was now gazing at his father's apartment in a look of awe. She briefly reflected what it must be like to see the living place of your parent, who you've never met. Emma knew if she ever had that chance, it would overwhelm her for sure.

He noticed the dream catcher in her hand and took it in his own. "He keeps a dream catcher." She looked down at him and smiled slightly. "I hope that doesn't mean he has bad dreams."

Emma's eyes nearly filled with tears at her son's sympathy for his father, who had abandoned his mother and left her to rot in prison. It shouldn't surprise her that he would manage to worry about Neal's happiness, as that was just his personality; that was Henry.

He handed the catcher back to her and made his way over to the fridge. "You think he has any juice? I'm dying of thirst over here."

Emma went to stop him, but the kid already had his head buried inside, looking around for something to drink. She shook her head, biting back a smirk and walked over to him.

"Ew!" Henry jumped back and she steadied her son as he fell against her, his nose crinkled in disgust. Emma looked down into the container he was holding out to her and saw that orange juice was green. The expiration on it said 9/07/13. Hold on, 2013? Why would Neal let juice sit in here for over a year, unless…

Henry was rooting around in the fridge again. "Not much else in here, but it all looks rotten too." He took the juice from Emma and threw it back into the fridge, shutting the door. "This guy seriously needs to get to the store more often! Do you think he actually drinks it like that?"

"I don't think he's been here for quite some time, to be honest." Emma moved over to the sink and saw that the couple dishes sitting there were covered in mold.

How could this be? Surely if he had been gone this long the landlord would have evicted him and put in new tenants. It was possible that he was renting it to someone from out of town, but it didn't seem his style. Neal was always doing his best to lay low, never wanting any outsiders to be involved in his life.

Police sirens outside made her and Henry jump, and he was pulling on her sleeve seconds later, once again being the voice of reason. "We should probably go before someone sees us in here."

Emma pulled out her cell and noticed that it was already noon. They still needed to drop off their library books and have lunch before she had to take Henry to meet his friend at 2pm.

"You're right, it's getting late." Emma pulled him along, tucking the dream catcher inside her purse. If Neal was living there now, she wanted him to know she had been there. That way, it was clear that their meeting would happen on her terms, and she wasn't afraid of him. Besides, it was her dream catcher to begin with.

As they made their way to the door, Emma took one last look inside the apartment, making a mental note to get to the bottom of all of this. Henry ran ahead, sliding down the railing and whooping with glee all the way down.

If he was up to something, she would figure out what it was and put a stop to it right away.

Opening the gate, she glanced at the mailbox marked #407. It had a note taped to it that she had somehow missed on her way in, written in pen scrawl.

"Tennant not excepting mail at this time."

This was certainly not shocking for Neal, a man who was always hiding from someone. Still, Emma got the feeling that there was much more to this scenario than a loser trying to find his son and the woman he betrayed.

First a strange dream, Jones' appearance right after, then a vision (or even possibly a memory) of her with and older-looking version of her ex; there had to be some explanation for all of it.

And if for some reason Neal was in trouble, that meant she and Henry could be too.