#faultysuperpower

[couplehundredyears]

[couplehundredyears]

[couplehundredyears]

The Hours Passing

Something was really wrong. There weren’t any curses or villains threatening Storybrooke. There wasn’t a whiff of any trouble brewing. But a nagging, gnawing lump in Neal’s gut told him that something was amiss. He felt on edge and didn’t like it.

 Perhaps Emma’s absence left him uneasy. They conquered Peter Pan, saved Storybrooke, got married, and bought a house. Henry, Emma, and he finally got a chance just to be a family. It was a wonderful seven months. The bliss got interrupted, though, when Emma decided she needed to go to Boston. Some of her stuff had gotten left behind and her old landlord demanded she come pick it up herself. Neal had wanted to go, but Henry needed him so he stayed and prepared the nursery.

 It hadn’t been too bad, all-in-all. Neal called Emma one day. Emma called him the next. They took turns. Then, two weeks ago those calls stopped. The last he heard from her, she was in Vermont promising to be home well before Halloween. He called the next day – no answer. He tried on Emma’s day – no answer. By then he started to panic.

 So as to not worry Emma’s parents or Henry, he made up stories about Emma all the while making plans to go and find her himself. Something was wrong and he knew it. Neal just wasn’t sure what.

 One day, while heading out of Storybrooke, he called Regina and told her to pick of Henry after school. He promised to be home soon and explained that business called him away (that was a half-truth). Then he drove and drove and drove. He reached Vermont easily enough. Then, he drove some more.

 He checked every hospital, hotel, B&B, apartment building (maybe she’d freaked and decided to rent a place for a little while, Neal didn’t know), police department until there was one hospital left. It was a tiny thing in the middle of a tiny town, but it did have a cancer center, pulmonary/cardiology wing, neonatal/NICU unit, OR, recovery rooms, and it was fully staffed.

 Entering, his stomach fluttered as he looked around. The lights, the smells, the sounds – they all made him nervous. What if she’d been in a car accident and was in a coma? What if something happened to their unborn child? What if she wasn’t here? So many things could have happened and he did not like it.

 Swallowing the fear, he went to the information desk. As he explained who he was, where he was from, and who he was looking for, the woman looked at him with a sad, sympathetic gaze as she told him which floor to go to. On the elevator, he read the sign. She’d sent him to the neonatal/NICU unit.

 The ride up to the third floor was the worst one he’d ever taken. Neal’s stomach did flips and his heart beat fast. After an agonizing minute, there was a bing and the doors opened. He rushed out of the elevator and to the nurses’ station. “Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan’s husband….” He panted. After getting yet another sympathetic look, he followed her.

 The nurse did not enter the room, but left him at the doorway instead. She moved on to go and see to other patients. Neal raised a hand and knocked before entering. But he stopped and stared at his wife sitting in a rocking chair at the other side of the room. “Emma?” he whispered, unsure if she heard him over the beeps. He looked around the room and was certain he couldn’t breathe. The medicinal smell was strong. There were wires and monitors everywhere. “Emma?”

@faultysuperpower

[couplehundredyears]

Your Obedient Servant

He struggled against both the guards and the binds the guards tied about his wrists. He needed to get away. This was wrong! His papa needed him (now) and it was not like he would be abandoning his platoon for very long - just a little while. He needed to escape. Besides, the dog bite on his leg needed tending. However, the men were stronger than he was and Baelfire was certain his binds were magical. Each time he twisted, they bit into his skin a little bit more.

There was a limit to how tight the binds were. When he felt blood trickle onto his palm, Bae yelped, but stopped his squirming.  The trio (his two guards and he) were at their designation anyway. Bae looked up from his spot on the floor and found himself thrown haphazardly in front of the King, Queen, and Princess.

“Sires, we found this soldier abandoning his post,” reported one of the two guards. “And then when we attempted to escort him back to his platoon leader, he attacked and fled into the woods. One of the hounds stopped him.”

“I wasn’t! I mean I was. My papa’s crippled and I haven’t seen him in months. I need to make sure he’s okay,” the lad sobbed, speaking out of turn. “Please, this is the closest I’ve been to home since my birthday. I just want to go see him for a little while. Please. I promise to go right back to my camp by dusk tomorrow.”

[couplehundredyears]

Not Easy to Know

Sadness chilled Neal’s bones more than the autumn winds. Greif lines etched the faces in front of him. His felt the deepest. The events earlier in the day (had it only been a day?) aged them all. Battle scars from their war against Pan and Neverland weakened their souls, their spirit. The light in his loved ones eyes had dimmed. Again, it was his whose eyes shined the least or at least he assumed as much.

His heart ached for his father’s death. They’d barely gotten to reconnect with each other and any future between then were gone – ripped away. Loss marred much of his life. The events of the last twenty-four hours were no different. He’d lost his grandfather (was that even a bad thing? Pan did terrorize him and nearly killed his son) as well as his father. In just a few minutes Neal would lose his son and Emma. Surprisingly, Neal felt he was taking it all in stride although he could not quite hide the sadness in his heart. It glistened in his brown eyes as unshed tears.

“Hey,” Neal whispered, his hand going to her arm. Gently, so as not to aggravate the healing gunshot wound, he squeezed as if to reassure her. The one word and his touch against her arm made the world around him melt away. For this moment it was just Emma, Henry, and him. Even the breath snatching grief and heart aching grief was gone for just a moment even if he couldn’t shake the sadness and defeat. “I will see you both again. I promise.” With a shuffling gait, Neal stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Emma in a tight embrace - all the while breathing in her familiar scent as if to remember it for all eternity.

This would be all they had, at least for now. He didn’t want to believe that they’d never see each other again. This couldn’t be it. He didn’t know what was worse – losing his father or losing her love and his son. “I love you, Emma. I always have and I always will,” he whispered. The tears in his eyes finally fell. How could he give them up after just finding them again? They were home and he was already missing them.

@faultysuperpower

[couplehundredyears]

All of this Mixed Up

In Storybrooke’s hospital, Neal sat at a table near the windows. Glazed, dull eyes stared out the grayness. The rain splattered against the windows and obstructed the view. There wasn’t any recognition in his eyes, though. He stared, but he didn’t seem to see.

“Mr. Cassidy?” his nurse says, kneeling beside of him. “You said you wanted to eat your meal in a different place. Your wish was granted, but your food has not been touched. Is there something wrong?”

Neal didn’t reply. It wasn’t clear if he heard or if he cared. He just stared ahead with blankness. The plate of chicken, potatoes, and peas did not interest him in the least. Nothing did, really.

The woman sighed. Neal was such a challenge and none of the doctors could tell if his passivity   was from the events that lay heavily on his shoulders or the medicines. One thing was certain, without them, he grew agitated and argumentative.

“Come, Mr. Cassidy. Dinner is over. We can try eating later, okay?” she said. When he nodded, she took him by the arm and led the curly-haired main down the hall. In the silence, her clicking heels and his shuffling steps filled the air.

After a short trip, they were back at his room. She led him in and left him alone in the drawing decorated room. He might be intentionally mute, but his drawings did much talking. Weary, Neal plopped down in a chair and picked up his crayon unaware that his life was about to change.