Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The church was full. Emma forgot to breathe as she peeked through the side door. She hadn’t know Neal had so many friends. He didn’t have any family, save for the boy sitting in the front pew almost motionless. They’d shared that, being orphans. It had been the first thing to bind them together.

Now Henry was an orphan as well.

“I can’t do this.” She closed the door and leaned against the wall. The tears she’d been fighting for days now threatened once again. Damn it, she would not go out there with red eyes.

“They’re all here to support you, Emma.” Mary Margaret squeezed her best friend’s arm. Unlike Emma she let her tears fall. Her heart was breaking for Emma and Henry.

“It isn’t fair. We were good, you know? I’ve never had anything so good for me as Neal and Henry. I was figuring it out; wife and step-mom and being a family, and then… I can’t do this. Henry and I have a friend kind of thing happening, but I’m not his mom. I don’t know how to be a mom.” Emma resisted the urge to look out at the sea of black again. She knew Henry was safe; Mary Margaret’s husband sat at his side. He liked David; they’d bonded over mock battles plotted out with toy knights. The pew on the other side of him was empty. Her place. Once she sat there it would all be real, and she wouldn’t be able to avoid looking at the coffin that held Neal’s remains.

She wanted to run.

“You’ll learn, Emma. No one knows how to be a parent right away. Neal didn’t know from the start, I’m sure, and look how good he was with Henry.” She looked away, pretending interest in the cuff of her dress.

“What?” Mary Margaret wore her emotions close to the surface, and Emma was glad of anything that wasn’t her own grief.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, really. This is your day.”

“I hate this fucking day. I wish it was over.” The day Neal had died, his body too frail to take in another breath, had been worse but not by much. “I’ve leaned on you enough lately. Lean on me.”

“You barely let us help you at all, sweetie.” Mary Margaret sighed, and took in a breath. “It’s just… I was late this month. Two days. And I thought maybe this time…”

“I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t always easy, for Emma to initiate hugs, but there were a few people she really tried for. Mary Margaret was one of the few. “It will happen for you guys. I know it will. You and David are meant to be parents and I…”

“He loves you, Emma. He was so excited when you and Neal got married. The rest of it, you’ll figure out, but what matters is that you have that love. And both of you love Neal.”

“Loved.” Emma corrected as she tugged on the door. Waiting was only going to make the day longer. “Neal’s not here anymore.”

II

The service was mercifully short. Emma sat in the front row with Mary Margaret on one side of her and Henry on the other. She did not cry. Neither did Henry. It wasn’t until the Minister gave her a nod that she felt the acid in her stomach again. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to do this.

“You’ll be alright with David and Mary Margaret?” she whispered to the boy at her side. He reached out and squeezed her hand; it was the closest her tears had come to escaping.

“It’s what dad wanted.” He managed a hint of a smile, and he looked so much like his father that it was a physical pain.

“Yeah, it was.” She stood, and made her way carefully to the podium. It wasn’t until she was facing the room that she realized Ruby and her grandmother had been sitting behind her the whole time. There were others in the crowd that she knew, but she couldn’t spare them a glance. She needed to focus on making it through just five more minutes.

“Neal likes to say…” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat to start again.

“Neal used to say that it sucked, knowing that people were going to be at this party celebrating his life and he didn’t get an invite. He said that if he didn’t get to come, at least he could help plan it. He also said that I should find a cute guy with an accent to bring as my date. He’s going to have to forgive me that one.” There were a few sympathetic laughs, flat and false sounding. They hurt her ears.

“He helped plan the menu for the barbeque. We hope you’ll all stay to enjoy, and remember that if you have any complaints he’s the one to talk to.” She pointed at the casket, and for a moment almost expected him to pop out and laugh, saying it was a joke. He’d loved jokes, and had played more than a few on her, often with Henry’s help.

“The food isn’t the only thing he wanted a say in. This next part…” She was blinded for a moment, as the projector turned on and the screen behind her was no longer blank. When she looked over her shoulder there was an image of her, Neal and Henry sitting on on the edge of a swimming pool, their legs dangling in the water. Her family.

“Neal loved music. He had playlists on his ipod for every occasion. My favorites were the Henry’s bedtime story playlist and the Neal washes the dishes playlist.” She hated washing the dishes, but loved watching him. And sometimes he would pause, hands still wet, and spin her around the kitchen in a dance. She never cared about the back of her shirts getting wet.

“There’s only one song on this playlist, but it’s the one he wanted to share with you today. Neal, you made me promise and here it is.” She stood, frozen, as the first strains started to play, guitar and piano. He had played both. She wondered if Henry would want music lessons, now that Neal wasn’t around to teach him anymore.

Emma waited, as pictures flickered on the screen, of Neal, Henry, and herself. She waited as David and five other friends picked up the casket and walked down the aisle, carrying Neal away. She waited with her eyes on the boy that sat in the front pew. An orphan now, except that he had her. And she loved him, as much as she had loved his father. She held out her hand, just a little, not enough that anyone else would notice. Henry did. He left Mary Margaret sitting alone and joined Emma at the front of the church. They held hands as the final chorus played of the last song Neal would ever chose for them.