Chapter Text
The first time August sees him, Neal Cassidy is just a twenty-four-year-old boy, fairly average if you ask him, with a leather jacket far too worn, an uneven beard, and the bad habit of touching the ring on his thumb every time he lies, which happens quite often, none of it particularly impressive considering he’s a thief.
August watches him from a distance, from the café where he’s been stationed for days, studying each of his movements, trying to understand what the hell Emma ever saw in that guy to begin with, and more importantly, waiting for the perfect chance to ambush him, to make the little thief stay away from Emma, except that the guy never leaves her side.
Finally, one day, the thief is alone, August follows him for three blocks to make sure before jumping him, Neal walks like someone who knows he could escape from anything except himself, he has that air, the kind men have when they’ve lived too young and loved too soon, the ones who know how to lie with a smile and run with their pockets full of stolen wallets.
Exactly the kind of man August should avoid, because they remind him too much of the boys from Pleasure Island, and yet, Pinocchio is here.
He is here to do the right thing for the first time in almost 7 years, he had not seen her since he managed to convince her not to live on the streets using the story of the ugly duckling, Emma took the last name swan for herself and regained even for a moment her hope in the world, but too much time has passed since that, now August is here to scare Neal and force him to stay away from her, because if Neal stays with Emma, she will never accept her destiny, she will never break the curse, , and thousands of trapped souls, including his own family, will remain imprisoned, everything he has lived for, his entire purpose of protecting the Savior, will be completely destroyed, he would never see his father Geppetto again, nor his friend Jiminny, Pinocchio would be alone this time forever.
They turn down an alley, the city swallowing them with its dirty breath of smoke and dampness, and then Neal turns around, visibly angry.
"Are you following me? Because if you’re trying to mug me, trust me, I’m not your best option" he spits, his eyes burning.
August barely has time to open his mouth before Neal shoves him against the brick wall, his forearm pressing against his throat.
The kid is stronger than he looks in his worn clothes, it’s easy to feel the muscle beneath his sleeve when August pushes back, trying not to be strangled, it’s the kind of strength that comes from the streets, not from a gym, August reacts on instinct, flips him, twists his arm, and pins him down with his knee pressed to his back.
"Easy, easy kid, calm the hell down" he growls, "I’m not a cop and I’m not a mugger either, honestly I’m dressed better than you, why the hell would I rob you?".
"Then what the fuck are you? Who the hell sent you?".
August doesn’t answer right away, after all, Neal is completely pinned beneath him, instead, the puppet studies him closely, he hadn’t noticed from afar, but now he understands why Emma might have wanted this guy, with his strong neck, his thief’s steady hands, the way he leans slightly forward as if expecting a hit from any direction.
He’s not an ordinary boy, clearly he’s a son of the Enchanted Forest, and one who’s been badly beaten by life, to tell the truth.
And for a second, just one, August thinks, what if I don’t push him away? what if I keep him close? what if that love he gives Emma could somehow be mine?
It’s not the right thought, not noble, not even particularly smart, but Neal is beautiful in his strange way, not like in the movies, but broken, dangerous, burning, with a few adjustments here and there, August can see the boy’s potential perfectly.
And August, who has always had a weakness for endings that should never happen, feels something that resembles desire, or selfishness, or both at once
"I know who you are, Neal Cassidy" he says at last, letting Neal stand up, "and I know who your father was, I know where you come from, and I also know that if you stay with Emma, you’ll drag her down with you".
Neal blinks, stepping back half a pace, visibly shaken by the mention of his father, and his heart seems to crack audibly when August says Emma’s name.
"I don’t want to hurt you" at least in that, August isn’t lying, "but you have to stay away from her".
"From Emma? You know her?" the mention of his father hits him hard, because all the arrogance drains from his voice at once.
And August, professional liar, storyteller by vocation, improvises as if his life depends on it.
"We grew up together" he says, "in the same foster home, I took her there when I was just a kid and she was just a baby, I’ve protected her ever since, you could say I’m something like her guardian angel".
It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either, yes, he was the one who took Emma to the foster home, and yes, they lived there for a while, but August hasn’t exactly been looking after her the way he should have, still, the real part is big enough to sound believable.
"She’s fine, right? She doesn’t need some guardian angel who never helped her all the time she was an orphan showing up out of nowhere" Neal says, trying to sound convinced, though his voice lacks real strength.
"Yes, maybe she’s fine for now with you" August replies softly, "but if you stay with her, her destiny, her future, everything she’s meant to do, it will all go to hell".
"And what the hell do you know about her destiny?".
August steps closer, he can smell the mix of smoke, leather, and desperation that Neal carries like a scent, it’s not pleasant, really, but it reminds August of his best friend from Pleasure Island, and that feels strangely comforting.
And there it is, the truth, Emma isn’t the whole problem, Neal is, at least partly, with that broken voice that wreaks havoc in August’s mind, with that loyal fury, that violent tenderness only men who’ve survived magic seem to possess.
What if that love were mine?
August hates himself a little in that moment, but he also feels something that resembles hunger, or entitlement, if Neal were just some random stranger anywhere else, August would have already taken him to bed, but for now he has to stay focused on his mission to protect Emma.
"You’re not good for her" he says softly, almost pitying, having truly learned how to manipulate people, and if when he gave advice to manipulate someone he sounded exactly like Jiminy, well, that was August’s personal problem, "and you know it".
Neal looks away, just for a second, but that’s all August needs to know he’s already won.
"She loves me, and I love her, that should be enough".
"I know" August answers, and it feels like a splinter twisting in his stomach, because he’s tearing from Emma one of the few people in her life who truly love her, and because, aside from his father and Jiminy, no one has ever loved August the way Neal loves Emma, "but if you really love her, then you’ll let her go".
Neal’s face twists as if someone had sliced his chest open with an invisible blade, because he loves Emma, he loves her with an absurd, total intensity, the kind of love only those born in the Enchanted Forest can feel, the kind that no one in this magicless world could ever understand.
And that, that lights something inside August, the most selfish part of his mind screams, what if Neal loved me like that instead of her?
No, it’s fine, he shouldn’t think that, he’s here for a mission, and yet, August can’t help but tell himself, "you can think it’s for her, that you’re doing it to save her, but the truth is you have no choice."
Still, Neal keeps distracting him, and he does it again when he asks, wary, "Who sent you?"
"Let’s just say I’m on the side of what’s right". A lie, August is on the side of what he wants, not of what’s right, still, the former puppet takes a step forward, moving even closer, shamelessly invading Neal’s personal space, Neal doesn’t move, maybe he can’t, maybe he doesn’t want to.
"I can help you, Baelfire" August whispers, putting particular weight on the name that makes the boy’s knees weaken, "I can make sure she’s safe, make sure nothing touches her, that she fulfills her destiny, that she helps all the people from the Enchanted Forest trapped in the curse that was your father’s fault".
August knows that’s a lie, it was the Queen who cast the curse, not the Dark One, but he needs Neal to feed on that guilt for his father’s actions, "but you have to leave her, and never look back".
And August knows he’s already won, right there, in Neal’s eyes, he sees something break, not because of Emma but because of himself, and because of his own lie dressed as sacrifice, because maybe, in the wrong world, with the most selfish decisions, he could have kept the fairy-tale boy destiny had promised to someone else.
Neal is late, August had to make sure the boy truly walked away from Emma, so after the trick with the clocks he planned and convinced Neal to execute, August told the boy to meet him in his motel room, to know if, indeed, he had separated from Emma.
But August is beginning to strongly question his decision not to follow Neal, because the boy still hasn’t arrived, August has been in the motel room for quite some time now, with the light off and the window open, letting the dull noise of the city mix with the constant hum of his own conscience.
When the door opens, August doesn’t need to look to know that it was him, because if not, the boy wouldn’t have come back at all, Neal betrayed her, he took the car, he took the clocks, he left her alone.
Neal says nothing, he only closes the door and stands there, eyes fixed on the floor, as if he didn’t recognize himself in his own skin, the bag full of clocks falls to the ground with a hollow sound, the next thing that falls is Neal.
Not literally, but he collapses into the chair, and into himself, the silence is so thick that August almost feels he could cut it with his fingers.
"Did you do it?" he asks, already knowing the answer, it’s a little cruel, yes, but August wants to hear it from Neal’s own mouth, the proof that at least once he did something right, something that would guide Emma toward her destiny, and that Neal is now single.
"I ratted her out."
And then, as if those words unbound everything, Neal begins to talk and doesn’t stop, as if he had poison in his mouth, that Emma believed they would leave together, but that he… couldn’t, that he wasn’t good enough for her.
"She trusted me." August is definitely a terrible human being for finding something almost charming in the pitiful way Neal says that, but well, the gods will judge him when he’s dead.
And August, who has heard darker confessions from cleaner mouths, sits beside him without asking, he doesn’t tell Neal I forgive you, or you did the right thing, because it’s not time yet, and though he truly wants to, he can’t play all his cards now.
But his voice does sound soft, warm, almost brotherly, even if there is nothing fraternal in what he feels for Neal.
"She trusted you because she loves you, with this you showed that you love her too." And there it is, the spasm, barely a gesture at the corner of Neal’s mouth, as if he were about to vomit or split in two.
"Do you think she’ll… do you think she’ll forgive me someday? Do you think she can get past this?" Neal asks, without raising his eyes.
August looks at him from the corner of his eye, the question doesn’t matter, because he believes Emma is strong enough to recover from this, what matters is how Neal looks when he asks it, he looks absolutely vulnerable, broken even, like a lost child trapped in the body of a man who has just destroyed the love of his life.
And all because of a lie I told him, August thinks, he should feel bad, but he doesn’t.
Because now he has him, Neal is alone, abandoned even by himself, he doesn’t believe he deserves Emma’s love, he believes betraying her was proof of it, that surrendering was an act of redemption, and August has no interest in correcting that perception, quite the opposite.
"I don’t know if she’ll forgive you, Neal," he says, resting an elbow on his knee and looking toward the floor, "but that doesn’t matter, what matters is that you did the right thing."
Neal shakes his head and rubs his eyes with his knuckles. "The right thing… would have been to stay with her, not leave her alone."
August laughs in his mind but keeps his voice soft, stripping it of any hint of mockery. "And drag her with you? Through the streets, stealing cars and clocks, running from the past? Was that better?"
Neal doesn’t respond, because he believes it, he wants to believe it, he needs to believe it.
August continues, his voice low, as if sharing a secret between brothers. "You let her go because you love her so much that you’d rather become the villain of her story than the anchor that drags her down."
In surrender Neal’s shoulders slump and his hands fall like when you cut a puppet’s strings, August can’t help the comparison, but he knows that right now this is the exact moment.
August slips an arm around his shoulders, slow, careful, feels him trembling against him, his closeness is dangerous, and the boy’s warmth is certainly addictive.
And August thinks: This, this moment, I won’t give this to Emma, or to the Enchanted Forest, this is mine.
Because yes, he feels guilt for Emma, her father and the Blue Fairy trusted him to take care of her, Emma trusted Neal, and she was only a girl with fierce eyes and a hope she didn’t understand, she loved Neal, and they, he and Neal, betrayed her.
But August also feels something else, something lower, more primitive and dangerous, he feels satisfaction, because Neal Cassidy , Baelfire, the son of the Dark One, no longer belongs to Emma, he has no one, and August is here, just as he planned.
"You’re not a bad man, Neal," he says at last, lowering his voice as if the confession required gentleness, "you’re someone who was able to let go of what he loved most, so that she could have a real chance."
Neal looks at him attentively for the first time since he entered the room, his dark brown eyes are red from holding back tears, and they’re completely full of hatred, but curiously, not toward August, but toward himself.
"She’ll hate me," he whispers.
"Maybe," August concedes, and that’s important, not to give him false hope, not now, "but that doesn’t change what you did, you chose her future over your own, that’s… more than most people ever do." — that’s much more than I did and keep doing, that part August doesn’t say.
"You’ll protect her, won’t you?" Neal asks, with a childlike plea, as if he still wants to believe someone will come out of this clean.
August nods, his voice steady. "I’ll keep watching over her, always."
And that, curiously, is true, because August doesn’t just care for Neal, he also wants Emma to fulfill her destiny, to break the curse and save everyone.
What he doesn’t want is for Emma to be happy with Neal, that would be unbearable, August kneels before Neal, speaks to him like to a wounded animal. "But you… you can’t be there," August adds, without harshness, "not while there’s even a chance you might distract her from what she has to become, she’ll need to be alone, strong, awake, if she sees you… all of that will go to hell."
Neal takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and accepts, just like that, not because he fully trusts August, but because he already hates himself too much to fight for himself, and August knows it and allows it.
Neal swallows, his voice barely audible. "Where do I go then?"
And August smiles, because even though he didn’t expect Neal to end up this vulnerable and pliable after breaking up with Emma, he had already prepared everything, a name, a destination, an illusion of a future, and if it’s cruel and ruthless to use the same dream he built with Emma to forge Neal’s future, August still needs that last nail in the boy’s heart.
"Tallahassee, it’s a good place to start over," says August, "small, quiet, warm, no one asks questions."
And August, still holding him, still feeling his body against his own, thinks: Emma is closer to breaking the curse, and Neal… Neal is farther away from her, I did it, I made it.
Neal doesn’t answer, but the next day, when the sky is still blue and empty, he gets into his ridiculous yellow car and leaves.
Emma will go to jail, she’ll think he betrayed her out of fear or greed, she’ll never know he did it because he believed he loved her, she’ll never know it was August who whispered guilt into his ear and dressed it as virtue.
And August, sitting on a bench watching the car drive away with his Baelfire inside, feels… good, not happy, not really, but rather satisfied, Emma is closer to her destiny, Neal is free, broken yes, but single too.
And August has all the time in the world to rebuild him, to teach him to love something else, someone else, maybe one day even himself, because, for the first time in his life, August wants something he can’t have, and yet, he’s managed to keep it by his side all the same.
So if he spends almost all his savings buying himself a phone and one for Neal under the excuse that this way Neal can get updates about Emma, but really just to stay in contact with him, well, that’s a personal matter for August.
The phone rings at three in the morning, for an instant August thinks it’s a nightmare because of the horrible ringtone of that thing, then he remembers, once he manages to wake up a little, that only one person has his number, and his heart stops for a second before starting to race like mad, Neal Cassidy, he answers too quickly. “Neal?”
“Hi, August,” his voice sounds low, tired, as if he hasn’t slept in weeks, “Can we meet?”
August takes less than a second to respond, he says yes before even wondering why, because Neal wants to see him, because he called him, because maybe... finally...“Where are you?”
“Vancouver, Canada.”
Fucking Canada, August almost laughs, not Tallahassee, where he had carefully sent him, far from everything, like a toy stored in a safe box, no, Neal crossed the border and hid in another country.
And of course, he did it with Emma in mind, the thought tastes like rust on his tongue and wipes out any trace of laughter, in any case, August is currently in Seattle, so traveling further north doesn’t sound so crazy, and several days later he ends up meeting Neal.
The meeting is in a discreet café, one of those where nobody asks questions, Neal is already sitting when August walks in, his hair is a little longer, his beard unshaven, and his expression hasn’t changed at all, poorly hidden guilt and badly buried love.
August hates him a little for that, and also, he wants more than ever for that expression to be because Neal loves him, not because of his memories of his failed relationship with Emma.
“Thanks for coming,” Neal says, handing him a small canvas bag.
Inside there’s an envelope with bills and a set of keys, August takes one out, he recognizes it immediately.
“The car?”
“It’s not stolen anymore,” Neal explains, “I got new plates here in Canada, made it legal, I want you to give it to Emma… with this,” he pushes the envelope toward him, “I sold the stolen watches, that money should be for Emma, I shouldn’t keep it.”
August doesn’t respond at first, he looks at the keys, then at Neal, the only thing he can think is, why does she still live in your thoughts? Why can’t you let her go like you promised?
But he says nothing, because he still loves him.
“Where is she?” Neal asks then.
August lowers his gaze, prepares the lie with the precision of someone who’s had to do it many times before.
“In Arizona, a minimum-security prison, they gave her ten months, I’m not going to tell you which prison, so please don’t ask.”
Neal swallows, it seems to hurt, of course it hurts, everything about Emma destroys him. “Is she… alright?”
August clenches his teeth, he wants to lie, to tell him she’s perfectly fine, that she’s furious and has already forgotten him, but even he can’t lie that much, so he prefers to omit the truth. “She’s alive,” he answers, “She’s a survivor, just like always.”
Neal nods, looks at the envelope and the keys. “Promise me you’ll give them to her.”
August puts both things into his backpack without looking at him. “I will.”
And he will, because that is part of the plan, Emma needs to reach Storybrooke at some point, she needs to be ready, the car, the money, even the anger will be useful, but still, he can’t help feeling left behind, as if he were still a secondary actor in the puppet theater where he almost got trapped before becoming a real boy.
“And when will I know if she fulfills her destiny?” Neal asks, and that phrase cuts like a blade.
Not if she’s alright, not if she forgives me, when she fulfills her destiny, August smiles, but it’s a hollow grin. “I’ll send you a postcard,” he says.
He won’t, ever, because if Neal finds out that Emma has fulfilled her destiny, he’ll look for her, he’ll try to go back to her without hesitation and everything will fall apart, and August still hasn’t finished proving that he too can be part of a story, that he too can win someone’s heart even if the protagonist chose another.
Hours later, in his room, August places the keys and the envelope on the table, he thinks of Emma, of her clear eyes, of the baby he was supposed to protect in this world without magic, because of a broken promise.
He feels guilty, because his first emotion upon seeing Neal wasn’t anguish for her, it was joy at seeing him.
And that’s the part of himself he hates, but that he’s not willing to kill.
Because although Emma was his mission, Neal is his untold story, and August learned too well from the fox and the cat, he’s a liar, manipulative, and still a dreamer, one who doesn’t intend to give up yet.
He hadn’t planned to go in to see her, he only meant to leave the package and leave, the envelope with money, the car keys, an anonymous note, and nothing more, a farewell without a signature, a faceless act of help.
But August stays, he crosses the rusted gate of the Phoenix Correctional Center, walks down the entrance hallway with his head lowered, and stops in front of the counter as if his feet had brought him there without asking permission.
“Yes?” asks the woman behind the counter without lifting her eyes from the paperwork.
August clears his throat, “I’m… looking for Emma Swan, I just want to know if she’s alright.”
Silence, the woman types. “Relative?”
August hesitates, “Family friend, is she... is she alright?”
The woman looks at him for the first time, evaluates him with the eyes of someone who’s seen too many poorly told lies. “Do you have identification?”
August pulls out his old driver’s license, the woman examines it, then types something again into the computer.
“She’s serving a ten-month sentence, good behavior, keeps her head down, doesn’t talk much, she’s allowed limited visits, but no one has come to see her except you.”
August nods, already feeling relieved, but then she adds something that shatters his entire life.
“And she’s pregnant, four months,” and she looks at him more closely, as if judging every one of his choices, God, August hopes she doesn’t think he’s the father, “You didn’t know?”
The world shrinks, not from surprise but from certainty, Emma is pregnant with Neal’s child, he brings a hand to his chest as if he needs to hold something inside himself that has just begun to break, the woman at the counter turns blurry, her voice a meaningless murmur, he wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like.
Because if Neal finds out, if he ever learns the truth... everything is over, Emma will forgive him when he gives up everything for her and their baby, they’ll leave together, as they should have from the beginning, Emma won’t be the Savior, she won’t go to Storybrooke, and August will only be the traitor who tore a family apart.
Again.
He walks out to the parking lot like an automaton, leaves the envelope with the money and the keys at the window, with a note that says:
"For Emma Swan, take care of yourself", and a small drawing of a swan on the paper.
He walks toward his motorcycle not knowing whether he’s going to vomit or cry or both, Neal, Emma, and a baby, all those things he’ll never have, in the motel where he’s staying that night he doesn’t sleep, he can’t, because the story he wants to write will never be the one others will live, and then he makes a decision that isn’t fair or clean or heroic, but at least entirely his own, without any fairy, cricket, cat, or fox telling him what to do.
He will stay close to Neal, not as a friend nor as a confidant, but as his shadow, he’ll lie if necessary, distract him, protect him from the truth, because if Neal finds out he’s going to be a father, if Emma manages to contact him...
And August has already lost everything once, he lost his father, his home, his family, August isn’t willing to lose anything ever again, even if that means playing dirty, even if that means being the villain.
At least, he thinks as he turns off the light, someone has to make sure Emma fulfills her destiny, and if that means stealing her happiness... so be it.
He found him in a small café on the outskirts of Vancouver, the good thing about Neal loving Emma so much was that at least it made him stay in one place long enough for August to always know where to find him, still, Neal looked terrible compared to the last time they’d been together, and that time hadn’t exactly been the picture of health either, he wore the same coat but carried less weight, the same face but thinner and with much less light.
Neal didn’t even look up when August sat down in front of him. “So?” he finally asked, without preamble.
“It’s done, the money and the keys are in her hands, Emma’s fine, she’s calm.”
Neal closed his eyes, said nothing, just nodded, as if he’d been holding his breath for days.
August pretended not to notice the tremor in his fingers, he didn’t tell him about the pregnancy, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he wasn’t going to.
“Thanks,” Neal murmured after a long silence, “I guess now… now I have to start over, maybe settle down, find a job, do something that makes me feel…” he grimaced bitterly, “I don’t know, human.”
August leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap, pretending neutrality while studying him. “And do you know where yet?”
Neal shook his head, as if the mere idea of imagining the future was too much effort. “No idea, I just know I don’t want to keep bumming around bus stations, maybe… I’ll start with Portland, maybe Seattle, I don’t know.”
“I’m going with you,” said August without thinking.
Neal looked at him with a mix of surprise and distrust, “Why? Didn’t you say we should split up? Why the hell do you want to come with me now?”
August shrugged, “Change of plans, I don’t like how you look, you’re... in free fall, until you stabilize, I can give you a bit of direction.”
It wasn’t a lie, Neal really did look awful, August was sure that if he left him like this, the next time he saw him he’d be zipped up in a body bag, but it wasn’t the truth either.
August told himself it was for Emma, that he had to watch Neal, that he couldn’t risk him looking for her, finding out about the baby, ruining everything.
But the truth was dirtier, more personal, August wanted to stay close because Neal was empty, because when he walked he did it as if he had lead tied to his ankles, because even though Neal would never look at him with the same eyes he once looked at Emma, August would still be there, like an idiot with hope.
“Fine,” Neal said at last, “but I don’t plan to be friendly, and I’m not promising to stay in one place, or pay for you, I’m broke.”
“Perfect,” said August, smiling as he picked up his cup, “I never liked fixed places anyway.”
That night they slept in a cheap motel by the highway, Neal fell asleep with the television still on, August didn’t sleep, from his bed he watched him in the dim light like some kind of creep, his hunched posture, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he murmured Emma’s name in his sleep.
Neal loved her, August knew that, but he also knew how to wait, and if it took months, years, an entire lifetime walking beside Neal until his love for Emma turned into nothing more than a scar… then he would do it.
Because August could lie to the world, to Emma, to Neal, but not to himself, he wasn’t following Neal to protect Emma’s destiny, he followed him because he didn’t want to let him go.