Not My Homeland Anymore
Chapter 5: The Shape of Your Name
Neal, like everyone else in Storybrooke who wasn't already awake, was woken abrubtly by a loud bell that went off at precisely 8 AM on Monday morning.
What's that noise? He glanced over at his alarm clock, but the screen was blank. It must have blown a fuse or something.
Wait, what time was it? Neal could tell that he'd overslept, though hopefully not too much. Flipping open his ancient cell phone, he checked the time. 8:01 AM.
Wonderful. Normally, he'd be heading over to Granny's by now, with plenty of time to eat breakfast and chat with Ruby or whoever else was up this early. No time for that now. He had to have the library open by nine. Maybe, if I get dressed quickly and make sure everything's in order, I'll have time to grab a quick bite?
Unfortunately for him, the cart of books Henry was supposed to have shelved on Saturday was still full, and that had to be dealt with before he opened the library doors.
That's just great. But he supposed that's what he got for relying on a ten-year-old.
Emma did not appreciate Regina showing up at the door to her hotel room at way-too-early in the morning with her apples and her thinly-veiled threats. She wanted to ask the mayor to leave, but when she expressed her concern for Henry, the other woman said something that really caught Emma's attention.
"He's fine, dear," Henry's mother told her. "Any problems he has are being taken care of."
Problems, huh?
"Speaking of problems," said Emma, leaning one arm against the doorframe. "What do you know about that librarian?"
"Mr. Cassidy?" Regina replied, blinking in surprise. "What about him?"
"I met him yesterday while I was out looking for Henry," Emma explained. "Seems kind of shady to me. I wouldn't trust him, especially not around Henry." (She was not about to go into her history with Neal right now, especially considering that she'd already promised Regina that Henry's father wouldn't be an issue. But even if Regina didn't like Emma, she doted on her son. Surely, she wouldn't let the kid near anyone who might hurt him?)
"I'm not sure what you mean, Miss Swan," said Regina in a sickly-sweet tone. "But why don't you let me worry about what's best for Henry? I think it's time for you to go."
Regina smiled as she walked out of the inn. She'd intended to send Miss Swan on the trail after Archie, but the woman hadn't taken the bait, instead focusing on the librarian, of all people. He and Emma had evidently gotten off on the wrong foot for some reason or another.
Which suited Regina just fine.
Henry adored Mr. Cassidy, especially since he'd started volunteering at the library. If his so-called 'birth mother' attempted to keep him away from the librarian, Henry would be furious with her. And Regina would be able to keep her hands out of it and tell her son, quite honestly, that she'd had nothing to do with it.
Perfect.
By 8:45, Neal knew that there was no chance he was getting out of the library before 9, so he shot a text to Ruby. 'Hey, had some extra shelving to do this morning. Mind dropping off a coffee and some toast?'
She responded a minute later. 'No problem. Did you do this?'
He opened the attached image and looked at it for a moment. It was just the clocktower, so why-
And then he noticed the clock on the tower, which told him that it was 8:46.
When did that get fixed? That must have been the ringing that woke him up that morning. Weird.
He sent back a quick reply ('Not me.') and got back to work.
As Henry led Emma out of the diner, he noticed Ruby walking out behind them. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, so he held the door open.
"Thanks, Henry," said the waitress, smiling gratefully.
"Are you bringing that over to the library?" Henry asked.
"Yeah- someone couldn't stop by this morning because he had some extra shelving to do," she replied, nudging him with her elbow. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"Uh… would you look at that, I've got to get to school," he said, pointing at the clocktower before running over to Emma, who was now standing by the fence. "Bye, Ruby!"
"So, what's the deal with that clock?" Emma asked as they walked down Main Street. "Didn't you say that it was broken or something?"
"I'm not really sure," said Henry. Although I might have some ideas. "All I can tell you is that up until last night, I'd never seen it move."
"According to this morning's paper, I did something to it," she said, tossing something from one hand to the other. "Though how that's possible when I only stepped into the library for a moment, and didn't go anywhere near the tower…"
"You went to the library?" Henry tilted his head, curious. "Oh. Mr. Cassidy was the one who told you about the castle, wasn't he?"
"Yup," she said, bringing her hand towards her face. "Look, kid, how much do you know about-"
"Hey!" Henry interrupted, finally noticing what she was holding. An apple. That can't be good. "Where'd you get that?"
"Your mom," said Emma, looking confused.
"Don't eat that!" He grabbed the fruit out of her hand, throwing it behind him.
"Okay…" she said, looking like she thought he was mire than a little nuts. "Want to tell me what that's about?"
"Just trust me on this one," he told her. "Whatever you do, do not eat any of her apples. Promise?"
"Whatever you say, kid," Emma said. "Now, what's with you and the library, anyway?"
"I, uh, volunteer there," he told her, not wanting to get into the details of his agreement with Mr. Cassidy. "From noon to five on Saturdays, and five to seven-thirty on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Mom thinks it'll keep me out of trouble."
"I can't imagine why she might be worried about that," said Emma, rolling her eyes. "What about Thursdays?"
"That's when I meet with Archie," explained Henry.
"Right, that guy from the other night, with the dog," she said, snapping her fingers. "He's your shrink?"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his arm. "I see him because…"
"I get it, Henry," she said. "We've all got our issues. There's nothing wrong with getting help when you need it."
Once she'd dropped Henry off at school, Emma headed for the library.
None of this made sense. If what Henry had said was right, Neal had clearly been in Storybrooke a while. What was he doing here?
Did he know who Henry was? How could he?
But if he didn't, why spend so much time with him? She could read between the lines- it was obvious Neal meant a lot to Henry.
What game is he playing here?
"Alright, we need to talk." Neal looked up from the counter as the blond woman he'd met the day before stormed into the library.
"Emma, right?" Ignoring her obvious irritation, he smiled brightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name yesterday."
For some reason, one of her hands drifted up towards her neck. She quickly caught herself, moving it back to her side.
"It's Swan, as you very well know," she spat at him. "Your little act isn't fooling me, mister."
"What act?" Neal went back to his initial assessment of the woman: Henry's birth mother or not, she was clearly insane. "Would you mind telling me what your problem is instead of giving me these little hints as though I'm supposed to have a clue what you're talking about?"
"Are you kidding me?" Her voice was getting louder, and the few people who were going through the stacks this early in the day had all turned to look at them. "I may have fallen for that innocent mask last time, but you are not going to fool me again."
"Miss Swan, I can honestly say I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," said Neal, walking around the counter. "And if you wouldn't mind keeping it down, this is a library."
"Do I look like I care?" Emma said, throwing her hands in the air. "Would you quit playing dumb already?"
"Why don't we take this outside?" Neal said, holding the door open. He didn't really want to have a loud argument with a crazy woman in the town square this early in the morning, but better out there than in here, disturbing the patrons.
"I am not going anywhere with you!" Her face was contorting with absolute rage.
"Outside's better," he said. "Don't worry, you can keep yelling at me out there." He walked out, and she followed, stomping behind him.
"Now, what's this about?" Neal asked, turning to look at her as they stood by the entrance to the library. "Something about a lie or an act or something?"
"I get it, you think this is some kind of joke," she said, her voice not nearly as loud now that they were out in public. "Let's convince poor, stupid Emma believe that you've got amnesia or something!" Her volume rose with every word.
"Ma'am, I'm telling you, before you came in here yesterday, I'd never seen you in my life." Neal spoke as calmly as he could, trying to placate her, but it didn't seem to help much. "I really think you must have me confused for someone else."
"What, you're telling me you just happen to be someone with the same name and face as the jerk who lied to me?" She stepped closer to him. He took a step back, his body hitting the wall behind him. "I ought to knock some sense into you, maybe that'll help!"
Emma gripped his shirt collar, pulling her other hand back. He closed his eyes and flinched away, but the slap- or punch- that he was expecting never came.
"Alright, let's settle things down over here." Opening his eyes, Neal saw the sheriff pulling the woman's arms behind her. "Now, Mr. Cassidy, can you tell me what this is about?"
Emma didn't bother struggling, knowing that it wouldn't take much for the sheriff to pull out those handcuffs.
"Honestly, officer, I have absolutely no idea," Neal said, shaking his head. She glared at him. How dare he! "She just came in and started shouting. I'd hoped that if we moved it outside, she might cool off and I might get a better idea of what the problem is, but I haven't had any luck. Near as I can figure, she thinks I'm someone I'm not."
"Mistaken identity, eh?" The sheriff's voice was lighthearted. "Let me see if I can help."
"No 'help' is necessary, officer," she said, unable to keep the snark out of her voice. "This guy's pretending not to know, but it's all an act. He's a conman."
"A conman? Neal Cassidy?" The officer seemed to find that hilarious, and laughed. "Now I know you've got the wrong man. Neal over here couldn't tell a lie to save his life."
"I'm telling you, it's an act," Emma insisted, wrenching her arms free. "It's been a few years since I last saw him, but I'd never forget that face."
"Oh?" Now the sheriff (Graham, Regina had said his name was) sounded intrigued. "How long ago was this, Miss Swan?"
"Ten, eleven years ago?" Emma explained. "But like I said, I'd never forget him."
"I see," said Graham. She had a feeling he was making fun of her. "And how old was he at the time?"
"He claimed that he was in his twenties," Emma explained. "Though he may have been lying about that too, who knows?"
"I understand," said the sherriff, turning back to him. "Mr. Cassidy, would you happen to have your wallet on you?"
"I think so," said Neal. He dug around in his pocket before pulling out a slim billfold. "Here we go."
"If you think you can pay me off-"
"Neal, can I see some ID?" Neal's eyes widened slightly, and he made a slight nod of comprehension. He pulled a card out of his wallet, handing it to the sheriff. "Look at this, Miss Swan."
Emma took the card, not sure what she was supposed to be looking at.
It was a regular old driver's license, issued by the state of Maine. There was a picture of Neal's face, with that scrubbly little excuse for a mustache and the five o'clock shadow on his chin that used to scratch at her face when-
And then the sheriff let go, and she saw the words his thumb had obscured. There, in bright red letters, read the words UNDER 21 UNTIL, followed by a date. Her eyes widened, and she scanned down a few lines.
DOB 02/08/1991
According to this, the man in front of her was only twenty years old.
"This can't- I don't- what?" Emma didn't understand.
"Ma'am, if you're talking about someone you met over a decade ago, it couldn't have been me," said the man whose license identified him as CASSIDY, NEAL. "Ten years ago, I was Henry's age."
What?
"Mr. Cassidy, will you be pressing charges?" Through her stupor, she could hear the sheriff speaking, although the words didn't really register.
"I don't think it needs to come to that," said the librarian. "It sounds like this was just a simple misunderstanding. Though I hope Miss Swan here won't take it personally if I ask that, unless she really needs to read something, she might avoid coming back here any time soon?"
"A restraining order, then?" Emma looked up at this.
"No, I don't think it needs to get that serious," said the man who couldn't be anyone but her ex. He reached out and plucked the license out of her hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."
"How was your day, sweetheart?" Regina asked that evening after picking her son up from the library.
"Fine," he said, buckling his seatbelt. "Not that you care."
"Henry!" Sighing, she turned back to look at him. "Was Mr. Cassidy okay?"
"Yeah…" Henry said, as though not sure where she was going with this. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"He didn't tell you?" She pulled the car away and headed down the street. "That was sweet of him, I suppose, though I wish he would have at least warned you."
"Warned me about what?" Now he actually sounded concerned. "What did you do to him?"
"Me? I didn't do anything to him, and I'm hurt that you think I would," said Regina, sighing. "It was that woman you brought here. She assaulted him this morning, in broad daylight."
"What are you talking about?" Henry demanded. "Why would Emma hurt Mr. Cassidy?"
"Who knows why people like that do anything?" Regina said. Much as she'd tried, she hadn't been able to figure out just what that woman and the librarian had been arguing about. (Sydney hadn't been able to get any information, and all Graham had said was something about 'mistaken identity,' whatever that was supposed to mean.) "But she's dangerous, Henry, and I don't want you around her."
What on earth?
Why would his birth mother attack a librarian?
Not that the Evil Queen wouldn't lie to him, but she'd said it had happened 'in broad daylight.' Which meant that he could probably ask anyone who'd been there and they'd give him the same story.
It makes no sense.
He'd ask Emma about it in tomorrow.
Emma sat at the counter in the diner, nursing a cup of rapidly cooling coffee.
"Hey, could I get a refill, please?" She tried to signal the waitress, but the young woman didn't seem to hear her. "Excuse me?"
Finally, Ruby turned to look at her. She was scowling.
"I don't know who you think you are, but if you think you can just-"
"Whoa, whoa!" Emma said, waving a hand. "What's this about?"
"Are you kidding me?" The waitress's voice raised slightly, and a few customers turned in their direction. She dropped her voice to an angry whisper. "It's about Neal! I don't know how you doing things back in Boston, but around here-"
"Alright, relax," Emma said, understanding. Still a charmer, eh? "Look, lady, I'm not here to steal your boyfriend, so you can calm down."
"What are you talking about?" Ruby crossed her arms. "Neal's not my boyfriend, and I don't really care who he dates, as long as he's happy."
"So what's your problem?" If it wasn't about jealousy, why would the diner waitress care what went on between her and Neal?
"My problem, as you put it, is that you think you can just attack my best friend out in public and nobody else will care," spat Ruby. "But what do I know? I'm just a silly little small-town girl, and you're some big city bigshot. Here's your refill."
The coffeepot rattled as she slammed it back down at the counter and flounced off.
"Long day?" Emma turned to see Henry's teacher sliding onto the stool next to her.
"You have no idea," she told Mary Margaret, sighing.
"What's this I hear about you fighting with Neal?" The teacher didn't sound angry, just concerned.
"You're going to think I'm crazy," Emma said.
"I promise, whatever you say, I won't think you're crazy." Mary Margaret said it with such sincerity that Emma almost believed her.
"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you," she said, throwing her head back. "I'm pretty sure he's my ex."
"Pretty sure? And really, Neal?" Mary Margaret sounded very confused.
"It's been a decade, but I'd never forget that face," said Emma, scowling slightly. "And even if I had, his name hasn't changed."
"Hold up, a decade?" The school teacher's head was tilted in bewilderment, and her voice had lowered to a hushed whisper. "Are you saying that you think Neal is Henry's father? That's impossible."
"I know, I know, he says he's younger, but-"
"Emma, you don't understand," Mary Margaret said. "Neal's lived in Storybrooke for forever."
"What?" She'd managed to convince herself that Neal had gotten his hands on some very convincing fake ID, but if Mary Margaret was telling the truth…
"Yeah, he grew up in this town," the school teacher explained. "This is his home. And sure, he went away after his father died a few years back, and some people thought he was gone for good, but he came back home in the end."
"What?" But she knew Mary Margaret wasn't lying. (Neal hadn't been lying either, when he claimed not to know her.) What's going on?
After the kind of day he'd had, Neal just needed to go for a drive and clear his head a bit.
He drove aimlessly around town, the way he often did. Eventually, he looked to his right and realized where he was.
The cemetery.
It was silly, of course. His dad wasn't buried here- Neal had scattered the ashes himself. But seeing as he couldn't exactly get to Oregon right now, this was the next best thing.
He parked his car, got out, walked through the gate, and sat down beneath a tree.
"Hey, Dad," he said, looking up. "Been a while, huh?"
He leaned back, feeling the rough bark against his back.
"It's funny," Neal murmured, closing his eyes. "I don't know how many times a day I stop and think 'I wish I could tell Dad about this' or 'Dad would know what to do here.' But here I am, talking to you, and I don't really know what to say."
He sighed.
"There's this kid, Henry, who's been helping me out at the library," he continued. "You'd like him. Polite, respectful, but also clever and so creative. You know, the other week he tried to convince me that everyone in town is actually a fairy tale character, and we just don't know it because we're all cursed?"
He could almost hear Dad chuckling.
"Yeah, apparently Ruby's really Little Red Riding Hood, and his teacher is Snow White, and his mom is the Evil Queen. Because of course she is."
He supposed that was what being ten was like. Heaven knew that if someone had told him that his dad was a fairy tale villain right while he was going his pre-pubescent angsty phase, he'd probably have believed them. (Which was ridiculous, considering that Dad had been about as far from villainous as it got.)
"Anyway, Henry decides to track down his birth mother, who, if I understand this story of his correctly, is apparently the long-lost daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming? Yes, that's right, the same Snow White who he thinks is Mary Margaret Blanchard. Go figure that one out. Somehow, he finds out she's living in Boston, so he runs off to meet her and drag her back to Storybrooke. And then this woman takes one step into town and decides that she doesn't like me."
Doesn't like was probably an understatement, but he wasn't about to start telling his dad about how he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Henry's birth mother. Knowing Dad, his old man would find someway to come back from the dead just to chew both of them out- Emma, for trying to hurt his son, and Neal, for fighting with a woman (or anyone else, really- Dad hadn't approved of violence).
"Can you believe it? A whole town of oddballs and eccentrics, and the person she can't stand just happens to be the boring, completely normal librarian. I mean, I'm so ordinary that I don't even make Henry's list of fairy tale characters."
(Henry had puzzled over that one for a few days. He'd told Neal that the guy who'd given him his book had to be important to this fairy tale business somehow, but apparently there weren't too many librarians in that book of his, so the kid couldn't place him.)
Suddenly, Neal heard a branch crack. He stood up and turned around, but he couldn't see anyone nearby.
"Maybe I'm starting to lose it," he muttered. Guess I ought to get some sleep, huh? "Goodnight, Dad. Nice talking to you."
Now he just had to hope Emma Swan would stay out of his way for however long she decided to stay in town. Surely that couldn't be too much to ask?
Mary Margaret watched as Neal headed back to his car. After that strange talk with Emma, she'd wanted to come see her parents. And then Neal had shown up, and she hadn't wanted to disturb him, so she'd stayed where she was until he left.
Which also meant she'd overheard most of what he'd said, even though it really wasn't any of her business.
Fairy tale characters, huh? That was a new one. Then again, Henry had always been an imaginative kid. It was one of the things she liked about him. And according to Neal, he thinks I'm his long-lost grandmother or something?
Mary Margaret supposed that there were worse relatives to have.
The next afternoon, Emma was sitting on a bench by the pier when Henry plopped himself down next to her.
"Is it true?" Henry asked, clearly trying to sound nonchalant.
"Is what true?" Emma said, although she had a feeling she knew what he was referring to. All day, people had been giving her dirty looks and side glances.
Small towns, huh? At least the kid didn't have any qualms about asking her directly.
"They're saying you beat up Mr. Cassidy," he explained. "But I saw him yesterday, and he didn't look beat up."
"I think 'beat up' is a bit of an overstatement," said Emma, a little defensively. "We had a… disagreement, and things got a little heated, but nobody got hurt." (She chose not to mention that that was probably only because of Graham's interference.)
"A disagreement over what?" Henry asked, tilting his head curiously.
"Grown-up stuff," she said.
"Ah," Henry said, nodding sagely.
"How long have you known him, anyway?" Emma asked. (Not that she didn't believe Mary Margaret, exactly, but it didn't hurt to check multiple sources.)
"I don't know, forever?" Henry seemed to consider this briefly. "He's always lived here. Like everyone else in Storybrooke. You're the only stranger who's ever come here. And me, I guess."
"If you say so, kid." True, it was a small town, and it made sense that they didn't have new people move in very often, but surely someone new came every once in a while, right?
"Anyway, I don't have to be at the library for an hour, so maybe we could read another story?" Holding out his book, he looked at her so pitifully she had no real choice but to give in.
"Fine," she said, sighing. "What are we reading today?"
"I figured maybe we could start Snow White and Prince Charming's story from the beginning."
"The beginning, huh?" She scooted over slightly as he opened the book, looking down as he flipped through the pages. "Didn't they meet when he woke her up after she ate the apple or something?"
"Of course not," he said, rolling his eyes. "That only worked because it was True Love's Kiss." (She could hear the capital letters.)
"Okay, and?" Emma didn't believe in this 'True Love's Kiss' business, of course, but she wondered what Henry thought it had to do with anything.
"True Love doesn't just happen," Henry explained seriously. "It's not an accident, and it couldn't be someone Snow White had never met. True Love has to be earned- to be fought for."
"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow at that. Not exactly what she would expect to hear from a kid that age, especially a boy. (In her experience, ten-year-old boys seemed to find such things gross, but it wasn't as though she had that much experience with them, and Henry seemed to be a bit of an outlier, anyway.) "So then, how did Snow White and her prince charming meet?"
"She robbed his carriage," Henry said matter-of-factly.
If Emma had been eating something, she probably would have choked.
"Excuse me?" What on earth?
"It's right here in the book," he said, finally landing on the right page. "Start here."
Pulling the book onto her lap, Emma started reading.
"As the Prince chased the thief on horseback, through the treacherous forest, his betrothed crossed her arms and pouted, wondering how many dreadful, boring minutes it would take until they could resume their journey again…"
As she ate her diner that night, Emma came to a decision. (More of a realization, really.)
I guess I'll be sticking around this place, huh? Between Henry, Neal, and… whatever bizarreness was going on in this town, there was no way she could just pick up and leave right now, no matter how much she might want to.
Luckily, her job meant she could be pretty flexible in where she lived, and she had enough saved up to cover living expenses for a few months.
Glancing over at the counter, where the waitress was punching in numbers into the register, she sighed.
If I'm planning on staying around here for any real length of time, I should probably find somewhere else to live. The old woman who ran the place didn't seem to have any issues with her, but that granddaughter of hers really didn't like Emma, which would make staying at the bed & breakfast and eating all her meals here at the diner rather uncomfortable. I'll have to check the paper and see if there are any vacancies.
Sure, the town was pretty small, but there had to be some empty apartments somewhere, right?