[She makes good on that; less than five minutes later, she's through the door and heading over to his table, sliding into the booth across from him and making herself comfortable. It's reminiscent of the conversation she'd just had with Neal; the setup is about the same, except for now there's french fries instead of hot chocolate.]
[Despite the bad news she has to deliver, she cracks a smile, just for a moment. It's amazing to think, sometimes, that just a few years ago, she and Henry were strangers. Sometimes it feels like they've always been this way. It fades after a moment, though she nods in response to his question.]
Yeah, she's fine. This isn't about her. It's about Neal -- your dad.
[She's still not used to calling him that.]
He figured out what happens to him. Not the details, but... he knows.
[For a second, Henry just stares hard at the plate of fries, trying to process that his dad knows he's dead. Is he mad because it was kept from him? There's also a little guilt - a weight has been lifted and he doesn't have to pretend anymore.]
[Henry sighs very heavily for an almost teenager, and for a second he just wants to go back to his room and pretend none of his parents are magic or dead. That everything is just normal. But then, he's not sure he really knows what normal is.]
I think it's good that he knows. I mean now...he can do all the things he wanted to before...
[He trails off, suddenly not really wanting the fries in front of him anymore.]
And I'll leave here, and go back to Storybrooke, and not even know that I got to really know my dad.
I think so, too, in the long run. It's hurting him like hell right now, but-- it's better that he knows, isn't it?
[She's asking herself, more than him. She's not putting that kind of weight on a near-teenager's shoulders.
She presses her lips together, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.]
Hey-- no. We're all working on finding a way to make sure people get to remember this place when they go home. We'll find it, we just need more time. You'll remember everything.
So, do you think he's okay? My dad I mean, do you think he's...handling it okay?
[Henry doesn't really know how a person reacts to knowing they're dead, but he figures it's a more grown up reaction than he'd be allowed to see. Still, he wants to know.]
You didn't do anything wrong. Why... [But then he figures that maybe he would have the same reaction. No one wants to hear they're dead. He'd probably walk away, too.]
I'll find him and talk to him. I just...wanna see him. Do you think he will? See me, I mean.
[He thought about it for a few long moments, then looked up at her, looking somehow like that ten year old kid from just a couple years ago, his voice soft.]
[Henry sort of flops against her, closing his eyes tightly as he holds on. He loves her, a lot, and after everything they've talked about sometimes the only thing that makes anything feel better again is a hug from mom. No matter how old he gets.]
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Be there in five.
[She makes good on that; less than five minutes later, she's through the door and heading over to his table, sliding into the booth across from him and making herself comfortable. It's reminiscent of the conversation she'd just had with Neal; the setup is about the same, except for now there's french fries instead of hot chocolate.]
Hey. Thanks for meeting me.
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No big deal. I ordered you a shake, too. It's coming.
[But really, he just wants to know what's happening. He knows Robin is gone. What else could go wrong, really?]
Is Regina okay?
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[Despite the bad news she has to deliver, she cracks a smile, just for a moment. It's amazing to think, sometimes, that just a few years ago, she and Henry were strangers. Sometimes it feels like they've always been this way. It fades after a moment, though she nods in response to his question.]
Yeah, she's fine. This isn't about her. It's about Neal -- your dad.
[She's still not used to calling him that.]
He figured out what happens to him. Not the details, but... he knows.
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Oh.
How...how did he find out?
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[Specifically, he was asking about her and Hook, but she doesn't want to drag Henry into that, too.]
When he realized he wasn't in the picture, he put the pieces together.
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I think it's good that he knows. I mean now...he can do all the things he wanted to before...
[He trails off, suddenly not really wanting the fries in front of him anymore.]
And I'll leave here, and go back to Storybrooke, and not even know that I got to really know my dad.
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[She's asking herself, more than him. She's not putting that kind of weight on a near-teenager's shoulders.
She presses her lips together, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.]
Hey-- no. We're all working on finding a way to make sure people get to remember this place when they go home. We'll find it, we just need more time. You'll remember everything.
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[He really didn't mean to sound like a brat, and he looks down, mumbling an apology.]
Sorry.
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I can't really hold that one against you.
[He's got a point.]
We haven't found the answer to preserving memories, but we will. We're not giving up.
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[Henry doesn't really know how a person reacts to knowing they're dead, but he figures it's a more grown up reaction than he'd be allowed to see. Still, he wants to know.]
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[Which, to be honest, isn't great. She frowns, pressing her lips together.]
He walked out on me. Can't say I blame him.
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I'll find him and talk to him. I just...wanna see him. Do you think he will? See me, I mean.
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[Or she'd tried not to, anyway. She sighs, but softens a little as she nods in reply.]
I don't think there's much that could keep him from wanting to see you. Maybe you're exactly what he needs right now.
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I'll wait a little while. Not very long, just...I know what I do when I'm really upset.
[And that was isolate himself for a little while and, well, like father like son in this case maybe. At least Henry thinks so.]
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[Henry does it. Neal does it. Emma does it, too. Sometimes, you just needed to be alone.]
Do you-- [She hesitates, briefly.] Do you want a little time to yourself before then?
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Can you stay for a few minutes?
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[She smiles softly, sympathetic, and extends an arm to invite him in for a hug.]
C'mere, kid.
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Thanks, ma.