cursebreaking | voicemail/inbox

[She's right to be concerned. He's concerned, and it's hard not to read things into those five words. But in the end, Neal just sticks with his plan. He'll know more once he actually sees her, and anything else before then would just make his head spin.]

Yeah; you want to meet somewhere? [He starts to type out Private would be good, but that's probably giving away too much. Instead he sends the first part and just leaves it at that, figures he'll learn more about what she's thinking by what place she suggests.

Hey, it's not a good idea, but a guy just can't help himself sometimes.]

Sure thing.

[The offer is innocuous enough, but things aren't that simple with them. He's still new in Wonderland. There are still a thousand things they have to talk about, and even if he weren't lagging behind, there are eleven years of anger and abandonment issues that are always going to color things to some degree.

They don't get to just meet up for coffee and pretend nothing ever happened, but Emma knows the both of them, and she knows that at least for a few minutes, that's exactly what they're going to try to do. She is, anyway.]

Diner okay, or did you have something else in mind?

[Once upon a time, Neal would actually be pretty thrilled about the prospect. One of the last things he'd asked her was to meet him at a dinner for lunch, to see if they could do the whole getting back together thing. But yeah, things are going to always be complicated between them. Second chances aren't as simple as asking someone to meet, and he knows it.]

No, diner works. I'll be there in ten.

[And he is. Actually he's a little early, but that just gives him time to pick out a table in the corner and order drinks. Non-alcoholic, for the record: his coffee, hers hot chocolate with cinnamon.

He hasn't forgotten things like that.]

[Usually, she makes a habit of being early, hates being the straggler when it comes to meeting up with anyone, but this time she spends just enough time being dissatisfied with her appearance (uncharacteristic, maybe, but nerves had a habit of kicking in when Neal was involved) to end up walking through the door exactly ten minutes after his last message. She finds him already seated and waiting, with drinks set out in front of him--

Hot chocolate with cinnamon. She spots it even before she reaches the table.

Good memory.]

Hey.

[She slides into the seat opposite him, instinctively closing her hands around the warm mug as she settles.]

Thanks for ordering.

[So she's almost late because she isn't happy with how she looks? Again, things that in the past would have made Neal grin if he had known. Instead he just sits up a little straighter, and nods when Emma makes claim to her cup.]

Yeah, no problem. Thanks for meeting me. [Of course, those drinks serve another purpose. It's pretty convenient to have something to sip on while he's trying to figure out just what to say. He called the meeting, so he has to start the conversation. But having Emma actually sitting across from him, ready to listen, has left him a little tongue tied.

So, he drinks. It buys him a couple of seconds, and when he does set down his mug again...

Yeah, he's still got nothing. He hates crap like this.]

So, uh, are you okay? People have been saying some pretty nasty things about where you were stuck.

Edited 2014-09-23 19:18 (UTC)

Of course.

[She's not sure how to follow that up. 'Not like I have anything better to do' is trying too hard at being dismissive, bordering on painfully flippant, and 'I can always make time for you' is a little too hopeful, too lofty for where they're at right now. The fact still stands, though: if Neal needs to talk to her, she'll make the time. Enough time has passed since Manhattan that some of her anger has subsided, even if she couldn't erase the eleven years she'd spent thinking he'd bailed for entirely selfish reasons. She'd gained new perspective, and it made her a hell of a lot more willing to hear him out.

She exhales slowly, nodding once before taking a long sip of her cocoa. It's almost too hot, but much like Neal had tought to himself, it bought her a couple of seconds.]

I'm okay. I'd been there once before. Not a lot of good places to hide on that side of the glass, but we managed to rally people together, get a headcount. Made it a little easier to keep track of everyone. I hear it got nasty on this side, though. [Pause.] Are you okay?

[Yeah, this bodes well. Things are already getting awkward, and Neal hasn't even brought up the reason why he'd wanted to talk to her yet. He presses his lips together, eyes focused on an innocent spot on the top of the table. But it's not like he can exactly get up and walk away now. He doubts Emma would just leave it be, and the thoughts in his head definitely wouldn't.]

I'm good, yeah. I managed to avoid most of the rough stuff. There was one guy with an axe, but he wasn't all that dangerous. [At least not to the population at large. Hopefully the guy ended up making the right choice, but Neal really doesn't have any way to know.] Mostly I was looking after Henry.

[He hesitates, then sucks in a breath. He's got to take the leap eventually, and it's as good of an opening as he's likely to get. So he looks up at her, just with his eyes, not wanting to give away too much while at the same time, trying to see how she reacts.]

Along with Hook.

Who the hell had an axe?

[It's the first question she thinks to ask right off the bat, but it's obvious Neal is working an angle here. He wants to know about Hook. The pause, however brief, adds weight to his mentioning Hook's name, and she presses her lips together in reply.

The situation might not be ideal, but she doesn't want him making her asking Hook to look after Henry into something it isn't. That had been simple and straightforward, unlike anything else.]

I'm glad Henry had you. [It comes out easily, honest. She was starting to get an idea of Neal's agenda, but at least this part was straightforward.] When Hook got in touch with me, I didn't know what side of the glass anyone else was on -- you or Regina or Mary Margaret or even Robin.

[None of them had checked in, so even the headcount hadn't done her much good in that department.]

I had to know someone was looking after him, but it's good you were there, too. Some of the Mirrors are maniacs.

Some guy whose world got taken over by zombies. [He waves it off; yeah, maybe it's the sort of thing worth talking about, but not right now. Emma's already seen through him if what she's saying after is any indication. A guy might think that could make it easier, but it really doesn't.]

Right. Guess I probably should've checked in too. [And he'd meant to, really, but first Neal had seen things and then he got distracted. He looks off to the side, starting to get a little antsy about this whole thing. It isn't going to end well; there's no way it could, not with them being who they are, or what they've lived through. He's still convinced it has to be said and done, but that doesn't make it easy to actually go through the process.]

We made sure Henry was safe. [That's the most important thing, but not what he wants to focus on right now. Neal swallows, the corners of his mouth tight as he braces himself for what's next.] Emma, I saw the part where Hook told you to come back to him. You said you would.

[Not be safe, not come back to her son. To Hook, and without meaning to, Neal starts looking at her hands--specificaly, at the ring she's still got on.]

I would've liked to know you were okay.

[Simple and straightforward. No guilt intended, but there's rare honesty there instead of the usual shying away from feelings. There are certain things that aren't worth pretending over anymore, and that's one of them. Whatever else happens, whatever resentments and uncertainties hang between them, Neal is her family. He means something to her, and so does his well-being.

But then his gaze travels to the ring, even as she anxiously reaches to turn it on her finger with the other hand, though her expression remains momentarily unreadable, carefully blank.

She hasn't wanted to talk about this at all since he showed up. Really, she hasn't wanted to talk about it with Hook, either -- Hook who's been content to pick up right where they left off with no discussion, and she can't even blame him for that, because why shouldn't he? But Neal being alive again changes things.

She's just not sure how yet.

She exhales slowly, looking at him squarely.]

A lot's happened since you and I last saw each other, Neal. Before Wonderland, I mean. Yeah, I said I would.

[And by normal standards, it wouldn't have meant much, but Neal knew Emma. He knew it meant a whole lot for her to say that.]

I didn't think I was ever gonna see you again.

[Wow. Okay, so he probably deserves that. No, Neal definitely does, and he looks off to the side for a second.]

Sorry. I'll keep in touch next time.

[Since he's already sure there's probably going to be a next time. Between here and home, them ending up in completely different realms seems to be a thing lately. Neal can't say he's a fan, but then again, it doesn't seem like he's going to be getting his way when it comes to a few things.

Not with the way she starts turning that ring.

But what she offers next doesn't make things any clearer. Sure he gets some parts; the big part where she apparently chose Hook. But think she wouldn't ever see him again back home? That doesn't make any sense, not with what he knows.]

What...what does that even mean? [Neal sits forward, hands held out in confusion as he tries to piece together what isn't being said.] I make it back, Emma. Everyone's told me that. So why would you think I wasn't going to be there?

[Because of their past, maybe? But Neal isn't that man anymore, and the reasons he had don't exist. So he might be getting angry now, because he cannot understand why she would say that.]

[In this place, there's always a next time. She's lost count of how many times she and Henry have been separated from one another, their troubles in Wonderland rivaling their count back home.

There's one simple answer to his question, but she feels something hard settle in the pit of her stomach as she considers it. It's simple, but that doesn't make it easy. She's had this conversation with others before. Once with Graham, and once with Neal during a previous visit-- though that death had turned out to be a false alarm. He'd been saved, pulled himself together and followed her and Henry all the way to Neverland, only to--

She cuts off her own train of thought as she puts both hands around her mug again, making no move to drink but still seeking some kind of comfort in its warmth.]

You make it back, but it's not that simple. We wound up saying our goodbyes all over again.

[She can't say it now, can't say the word 'dead' while he's sitting there across from him. He'll be pissed. He'll be pissed either way, she figures, pissed if she doesn't tell him and pissed if she just drops it in his lap. There's no winning here.]

It seemed-- final. And it wasn't by choice, it wasn't what anyone wanted, but--

[But when she's from, he's gone, and he's not coming back. Dead is dead, in most cases.]

Neal. [Something in her voice cracks, and despite her efforts to hold them back, her eyes have begun to tear up, though she quickly blinks the offending tears away.] I can't explain it right now.

[He wants to keep going, and at first he could. The anger's there, the frustration when Emma just won't give him a straight answer. She talks about saying goodbye, but that doesn't make sense. All Neal had wanted was to get back to them, so why would he leave? And yeah, he's figured out that much, that it's him who goes, when somehow Hook gets to stay. He wants to know why, how, what in any of the realms could make him vanish--

But she keeps going. She doesn't answer him, not really, but there are hints. Final and not by choice, and that leaves a lot of possibilities but doesn't really make him feel better. The demand's still there, but now something else is growing along with it, taking the place of the frustration over not knowing.

And come on. Just how often does Emma cry?

He falls back against the booth seat, eyes fixed on Emma but staring like he can't even see her. It feels like he just got sucker punched when her voice cracks, tells him she can't, but maybe she has anyway. Maybe, because Neal's brain is putting together pieces he really doesn't want to see fit. He swallows hard, licks his lips and parts them like he's going to say something, but what the hell can he even ask?

Final. It had been final. Where they come from, there's not a lot that can truly be called that.]

Edited 2014-10-02 16:16 (UTC)

[She leans back in her seat, too, arms folded across her chest for a moment until she shifts again, restless, covering her eyes with one hand just long enough to wipe away any trace of tears before they could manage to fall. She wasn't going to cry, not openly if she could help it, but there was no denying that the few times she'd allowed herself to break down in recent history-- at the crux, it had always been about Neal.

She exhales slowly, centering herself, but the effort is tossed aside the moment she looks at him, sitting there and looking like he's had the wind knocked out of him in one blow, looking right through her as if she's not even there.

She hadn't wanted it to go like this, but the more she thought about it, there was no good way. She hadn't been ready to tell him, but the questions he'd asked made it so she didn't have to. Neal was smart. He'd always been smart.

Of course he would put it together.

She folds her arms again, closing herself off as she drops her chin. She can't look at him with his eyes gone glassy like that, looking like she's just dropped an anvil in his lap.]

I'm sorry.

[His mind is still reeling, thoughts spinning in circles as questions come and are shoved away. He doesn't want to know, doesn't want to hear any of this, because that makes it real. He's learned that there's so much uncertainty when it comes to anything, things that people think are set in stone turn out not to be. He thought he'd lost Emma eleven years before she showed up in Manhattan. His dad, centuries before that day.

But final? Final's a hard thing to get past. Then Emma shuts down, and yeah, Neal recognizes it. She's protecting herself, because they both know she sure as hell can't protect him from it. Final and it's partner, I'm sorry, twin hammers driving the truth home, except Neal's pretty sure it'd easier if someone were pounding actual nails into his body.

She's not going to give him more than that without him asking. He knows it just from the way she curls inward, and that's probably good. There's no part of this he wants, but that doesn't mean there aren't things he has to ask. His mouth has gone dry, words still not coming easy, yet he's got responsibilities. Beyond asking how or why or anything like that, there's someone else he needs to take care of first, so Neal forces out the words, somehow trying to make them sound less broken than he feels.]

Does Henry know? [Has he lived through the horror of losing his dad, Neal breaking his promise to be there? But if he thinks about it, Neal may already have the answer to that too. The way Henry had hugged him when he first showed up, the looks that didn't quite make sense--

God, how the fuck did any of this happen?]

Edited 2014-10-02 17:01 (UTC)

[She nods slowly, finding that confirmation to be easier than words -- of course Henry knew. She could never keep that from him; they had grieved together, were still grieving, having secret meetings in Henry's room where they discussed how to handle this, what to tell Neal, if to tell Neal. Whether or not they told him hadn't been a question for more than a moment or two, but this wasn't how it was supposed to be -- not that any other method would have been better.]

He knows. He's-- he's never dealt with something like this before.

[Archie's death hadn't quite counted; even when they'd truly thought him dead, they weren't faced with the prospect of telling him. Loss was still new to Henry. He was young -- he hadn't experienced the same continued losses both of his parents had early in life.

She knew exactly what Neal had to be thinking. He didn't want to leave Henry alone, didn't want to abandon him the way his own father had abandoned him.

So much for those dreams. Outside of Wonderland, there was nothing that could be done about it.]

I promised him I would tell you when the time was right.

[He huffs out a breath, almost a laugh, but it's short and bitter. Great. The one lesson Neal actually gets to teach his son is that people die, even his dad, so get used to it now, kid. He would've much rather stuck with the play swords, thanks. He would rather have been a father, spent those years with his son and giving him everything Neal had once had before his own dad went Dark. Instead he ran, and kept running, and by the time he finally started to get things right?

He's dead.]

Nice to know one of us managed to keep our promises. [He mutters it more to himself than to Emma, slowly shaking his head. Even thinking he made it back to Storybrooke has lost all sense of comfort now. He still doesn't know how or why he dies, but does it even matter? He does, he can't change it. No one can, and it's too fucked up for him to handle.]

I can't deal with this right now. [Family traits, right? As much as Neal's tried to get away from it (ha), he's his father's son. Running is what he's good at, and he falls back on it almost on instinct. Sliding out of the booth, he barely even looks at Emma. It isn't her fault, she did what she had to, and on some level Neal knows that. But right now, it's too much. Too fresh, too painful, and he might actually throw something if he sees her twisting that ring one more time.

He's not going to stop. Unless she actually grabs him, Neal's going to be out the door without looking back.]

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