entrancelogs | (no subject)

Who: Henry Mills, Regina Mills, Neal Cassidy, + You
Where: Running through the mansion
When: March 8th, late evening, probably about 10, 11 p.m.
Rating: PG at the most probably? Will edit if needed
Summary: Henry returns post 4x12 - spoilers for the most recent OUAT episode
The Story:

Regina

There was no memory of Wonderland in Storybrooke. One moment Henry was heading to bed in his room at the mansion, the next he was standing outside of 108 Mifflin and demanding Regina let him inside. He was convinced now, all that she needed was for someone to not give up on her, and it became pretty clear that he could be that person when Robin couldn't. Except Henry really liked the way Robin made his mom smile, and he liked Robin himself, and Roland. So needless to say, when they left Storybrooke forever because of Ingrid, it sucked for lack of a better word. He felt for his mom, wanted to be there for her and was more determined than ever to find something to help. Was he supposed to be trespassing in the big mansion he couldn't remember ever seeing before? Probably not. But something in his gut told him that the answers were all here. And when he finds shelves and shelves of blank books just like his, he knows he's hit jackpot.

But, there's school to go to, more birds to learn about apparently, and for a while, things are just normal. He likes normal. He likes working with Regina, he likes hanging out with Emma, visiting his grandparents and getting to play favorite uncle to baby Neal. Or something - was it uncle? He has no idea. In any case, it's normal and nice.

And then the two biggest jerks he's pretty sure he's ever met make it into Storybrooke. Cruella De Vil just seems...a little unhinged, and Ursula he isn't sure about yet. But he instantly doesn't like them for the things they say. He leaves when Regina asks him to, knowing she wants to protect him. When he steps outside of the diner again though, it's back into Wonderland. For a second he freezes, just looking around a little until it all clicks into place again. The Queen of Hearts and Alice and mirrors and Jabberwockys. But more importantly, his family. And he remembers Regina left and came back so he takes off running to find her, not even bothering to knock before he bursts into her room. He doesn't even bother to think about the fact that it was dark outside or what time at night it might be.

"Mom? Are you here?"

Neal

After his mom is filled in, when he finds out Emma left about the same time he did, he's not worried. Now that he's experienced it himself, and he knows all of Emma's stuff is still here, he knows it's all okay. But he knows his dad is still here, and there's a twinge of guilt at forgetting him, even though it definitely isn't his fault he did. He's also more aware of the time now and this time knocks on the door, waiting to be let in. He can't wait to tell him about everything that's happened, and Elsa and Anna, and everything.

Everyone else, other family and friends

And now he's starving. He never did get those chocolate frosted donuts for breakfast, and now it's even way past dinner. He makes his way up to the diner, relieved when he finds it still open, then makes his way back down and kind of around the mansion, looking to see if anything had changed, but being wary of anything he doesn't recognize right away just in case it turns him into something. He's not ready to be muppet-ized again or something.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Somewhere between the pained looks and all the dread running through his own head, it clicks for Neal how incredibly unfair it is to have to ask this of Henry. Emma hadn’t known because she hasn’t been through that yet, but what about Regina? She found the time to tell him Zelena deserved a second chance, but couldn’t mention that Rumplestiltskin had fucked his up so badly, Belle banished him from Storybrooke?

He’s nearly mad enough to press her for answers, despite the fact that they haven’t spoken since he barged in on her memory. Nearly, except Henry himself suggests Emma might be able to give him answers on her return, and that’s definitely the better option. So’s calming down, because as angry as he is, as much as his gut is twisting, that isn’t Henry’s fault. The kid ended up telling him the story he never should have had to, because yet again someone figured he didn’t need to know.

“No.” When he finally says something again, his voice comes out rough. Neal clears his throat, forces himself to keep steady when he doesn’t feel that way at all. “Not the real versions of them anyway. I saw the movies, but those are hit and miss at best.”

And at worst, Pan looks like a mischievous kid who just doesn’t know any better.

“Henry, he can’t hear about this.” Pretty funny, coming from the guy who’s pissed because secrets have been kept from him. But while Neal might end up raising his voice, Rumplestiltskin could do a hell of a lot worse—especially since Neal doesn’t know all the circumstances, what his father was trying to do or even how far he’d been willing to go. Not when once again, he’d betrayed the people who believed in him most. “Not from you. Promise me right now, you don’t breathe a word about what happens to him.”

"I promise, dad."

It's an instant promise, one he doesn't even have to think about because it's his dad asking him. And, truth be told, he doesn't want to be the one to break anything to Rumple. Not that he sees him much anyway; their last encounter had been sort of weird. All Henry had wanted to know was more about how his mom was when she was younger and it handed ended kind of abruptly.

"Okay. Okay, good."

With how quick the promise comes, maybe Neal doesn't have to ask at all. Henry's a smart kid, a survivor like his parents, and he probably knows better than to let things like the end of Rumplestiltskin's time in Storybrooke and his marriage slip out. But Neal still worries; Henry's his son, and it isn't like his father hasn't done terrible things to the people he loves before.

Finally Neal manages to overcome that nervous tension, dropping down next to the kid once more. "Sorry. I just--I'd really hoped that he'd changed." Even though he'd known the whole time that Rumplestiltskin's self-sacrifice had been for the people he loved alone, that sort of selflessness had to mean something good. But then Neal died, and maybe what the Blue Fairy had said all those years ago still held true: Neal had been the last part of Rumplestiltskin's heart that stayed human, so his death meant the death of that small bit of goodness too.

"I did too," Henry admits. "I was...I was working in his shop for a little while. Before things got too..." Too what? He doesn't know how to say it.

"But he's here, and maybe that means something now. I mean, that's important, right?"