Disclaimer: Emma Swan does not belong to me. Neither does Neal Cassidy, unfortunately…

A/N: This fic combines Neal and Emma in the present, and in the past. Therefore, the layout for each chapter (except perhaps the last one) will consist of a first half in which I describe the present, and a second part composed of a flashback. For identification purposes, the first sentence of every flashback will be italicized, and under a line. This is meant to be a fluff, smut-free fic that delves into their first days together, when romance was not yet in their plans. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: Back to the beginning

There were things about Neal Cassidy that she would never understand. Like, for instance, making her pack and leave for Portland with nothing but a two-hour notice. As if she – they- didn't have other important things to deal with! Of course, maybe after rescuing their son from a destiny worse than death in an unknown land, seeing half their family suffer all kinds of torment – both physical and emotional – during battle and on their journey home, they did need some time to get things back on track. Mainly, they needed time, and courage, to finally talk about all things that were left unsaid in those eleven years that had kept them apart.

She had been avoiding that moment like the plague, and she had the impression that so had he. But now, as she kissed Henry goodbye and waved to her parents at the porch while Neal waited for her next to the taxi, she couldn't help but feel that the time had finally come.

And Emma Swan knew she was not ready, although she had rehearsed that moment a million times inside her head. It was easy to rant and speak her mind when he was not around; it was easy to practice her lines in front of a mirror. However, every time she looked at his face, her anger at him seemed to fade, and the bitter words stuck in her throat would dissolve into a smile.

It was almost as if not a single day had passed since their days in Portland, but days had passed. Plenty of them. Eleven years of solitude and unanswered questions fell between them, and the truth was that they were not the same people they used to be. Perhaps parts of their younger selves remained… but were they enough?

Perhaps it was the answer to that question, a question that would inevitably arise in their conversation, what scared her the most.

Her gaze caught up with his, and his eyes had that shadow of sorrow and sadness that she had grown to know so well after they met again in Manhattan. A shadow that seemed to have stuck permanently on him, even after they had both admitted their lingering feelings for each other before he fell through that portal, even after the passionate kisses they had exchanged ever since their reunion…

Maybe the answer to that question scared him too.

"I take it we're flying," she asked, after joining him on the backseat of the vehicle.

"We are."

They remained abnormally silent on the journey to the airport, his usual playful façade substituted by a more thoughtful one. She would fidget with her cell phone, looking at its screen every now and then, looking for a distraction as her eyes darted from the window to her own hands.

"Emma…"

"Yes?"

His voice had made her jump.

"What is it like?"

"What?"

"Flying… in an airplane?"

She gasped, unable to hide her surprise.

"This is your first time flying?"

"In an airplane, yes…" he whispered, looking at his own hands as he pouted.

The taxi driver raised an eyebrow and glanced at them from the rearview mirror, probably wondering what other methods of flying an ordinary citizen had at his disposal.

"Well… Let's say it's safer than a flying carpet."

"That doesn't help much…" he whimpered. "Almost anything is safer than a flying carpet."

"You can watch TV… People usually serve you something to drink…" she said, trying not to laugh as she looked at his apprehensive face. "And you get to wear seatbelts, so I guess you'll be good."

"Will you hold my hand?" he asked, and if it weren't for the little smile curling his lips, she would have really thought he was serious.

"If you really mean your hand… Yes, I can hold it."

By that time, they were both smirking at each other, but the taxi driver couldn't help but frown at their exchange.

Maybe she shouldn't have brought the flying carpet into the conversation, after all.

"It was not as bad as I thought," he said, grinning widely as they stood before the door to their hotel room.

"Yeah…" Emma answered, flexing the fingers he had almost broken during take-off and landing. "Definitely not…"

When he entered the room and immediately searched for the TV remote control, she dropped her bag on the bed and let out a sigh, feeling tired, antsy and frustrated with the man's silence… with the fact he had not even attempted to make a move on her, to try and persuade her to do something naughty in that airplane, or in the airport, or even now that they were alone, next to a bed…

Not that she would have agreed to it, of course. She would have pushed him away, told him that they were going too fast, that she was not ready yet, that they should talk first… Or maybe she wouldn't. Most likely she wouldn't, which only made matters worse.

She wanted it, but apparently, he didn't.

"Neal…" she took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Will you tell me what this is all about?"

"We need to talk."

"I know. But why Portland? Couldn't we have talked at home?"

"We could, but…" he replied, looking at his own hands as he fumbled with his scarf. "There are some things I need you to see."

"Like?"

He opened his mouth to speak again, but changed his mind. Instead, he lifted his eyes to hers, and smiled.

"We should get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow… You'll see."

She shook her head in defeat. If there was one thing she knew about Neal Cassidy, was that he could be annoyingly stubborn when he wanted to, and there would be no point in arguing if his mind was made up.

"Wanna shower first?"

When she raised her eyes, she noticed he had approached her on the bed, and was now holding out a towel, which she took from his hands in silence before heading to the bathroom.

The weather was slowly changing, just as the weather channel had predicted. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a rainy day. It had to be. Otherwise, half of his plan would go down the drain.

To think that eleven years had gone by…

He was standing by the window, looking outside as memories filled his mind.

Eleven years.

It felt like yesterday.

It was another rainy afternoon in Portland, and Emma Swan couldn't possibly care less. As soon as the thunders started rolling, she took off her jacket and threw it upon the man on the driver's seat, only to open the door and run outside. A real nut.

Neal Cassidy watched, with a frown, as the girl jumped in puddles and opened her arms, letting the heavy rain wash over her. His eyes lingered on her face when she raised it to the sky, smiling.

What a strange, strange person.

He let out a sigh. That was what you got when you decided to park your car in some alley to take a nap in the backseat. Technically, the bug was not even his anymore: it had taken him a lot of talk and swagger to convince the girl to let him take the driver's seat every now and then. But he could not complain, really: Emma Swan was good at her trade. Picking locks, swiping food, acting… Girl had a truly impressive portfolio.

His eyes wandered down her figure, from her dripping wet ponytail to her hips, her feminine curves more obvious than ever now that the wet fabric of her dress clung to her body.

"Get your mind… off the gutter," he told himself, after clearing his throat. The only reason she had agreed to hang around was business related – two sets of sticky fingers were likely to make better hauls than a single one. And it was not as if he needed, or wanted, a girlfriend, anyway.

He shifted on his seat, uncomfortably.

"Emma!" he yelled, rolling down the window an inch so that his voice could get past it. "I'll have to move the bug, the water is going up."

"No, it's not," she yelled back, without turning to look at him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, at least I'm not the one making a fool of myself in the middle of the street."

"You're a fool anyway," she said, smiling at him as she finally whipped her head around. "Even if you don't make it public."

"Thanks for the reminder…" he complained, turning on the engine and driving slowly as she walked along the car. "I'll meet you on Fifth."

"I'm not going."

"What?"

"I want a warm bed tonight. And dry clothes."

"Aww, come on…"

He hated going to shelters. Hated it. He would rather sleep on a bench by the park than going to those places. Especially after the night he and Emma had gone to one to spend the night after a blizzard, and a drunk had groped her while she slept – which eventually resulted in him getting kicked out of the place after nearly beating said drunk to a bloody pulp.

"You don't have to come with me," she said. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, right."

It was not as if he doubted her self-defense skills. He knew she could take care of herself if another drunk ever tried to have his way with her, but still… he didn't want her to get hurt.

"Well, wait for me here, then, I'll find somewhere safe to park the car."

"Choose wisely," she said, as more rain poured down her smiling face. "Last time you parked in an alley… you know what happened."

Oh, yes.

He did.