Emma sat by the fire that night long after it was nothing but embers and everyone had retired to their respective pallets on the forest floor. Sleep was continuing to evade her, the cries off in the distance getting to her the most. She wondered if Henry was one of those cries, but then remembered how strong he was, how much stronger he was than she had any chance of being. And why would he cry for her? Peter Pan had told her that she still wasn't forgiven for giving him up yet, and he hadn't lied to her.

Her fingers absentmindedly played with the shoelace on her left wrist, the one she had pulled from Graham's boot, tugging at the slightly frayed strands. It was hard to keep the tough façade up when everyone else was asleep, when old ghosts peeked out from behind closed doors. When time didn't move forward, her past was all she had here, and it haunted her, nipping at her heels with every step, sinking into the soil of self-doubt. She'd never been able to save anyone, her title pointlessly appointed to her. She would be a fool to think that would change now.

She heard a twig snap behind her, her head snapping in the direction of the noise just quick enough to see someone moving into the forest. Looking around their encampment, she saw no one missing, everyone still in their respective places. Standing quickly, moving toward the noise, Emma unsheathed the sword Hook had given her, giving the people at camp one last look before slinking off into the trees.

The soft squish of the grass sounded from beneath her feet, the occasional crunch of leaves along with it. She tried to stay silent as to not alert the person she was following that she was behind them. The farther she got from camp, the more she realized she shouldn't have ventured after the person alone. She didn't even know if she could get back to camp, the terrain unfamiliar to her. Finally coming to a stop, not having heard anything for quite some time, she looked around at the trees surrounding her, sighing in defeat. She'd hoped whoever it was might lead the way back to Pan's camp.

Another twig snapped behind her causing her to whirl around to it. A still figure stood there, his back turned to her, and even in the darkness of the shadows, he was familiar. The outline of tufts of curly hair could be seen, and as he turned into the moonlight coming between the open branches, Emma dropped her sword to the forest floor, the air knocked from her lungs.

"No," she whispered, the words almost carried away on the air.

Graham smiled softly at her, making no move to walk toward her. "Hello, Emma. It's been a while."

Emma shook her head, closing her eyes tightly, willing herself to wake up from the dream this had to be. "You're not really here," she said through gritted teeth, seeing him again causing her physical pain.

"I know."

"You died in my arms," she replied, trying to convince herself that what was in front of her wasn't the sheriff she'd come to care for.

"I know, Emma," he said, more softly this time, taking a step toward her.

Her eyes opened at the sound of the movement, and she held up her hand to stop him, not wanting him any closer. She leaned down quickly, picking up the sword that had fallen from her grasp at the sight of him. "Is this some kind of trick? How are you here?" She asked—demanded, finally finding her voice.

Graham chuckled at the blade, amused by the whole situation but stayed put, no longer advancing on her as he had before. "What was it that Gold said? 'Neverland is a place where imagination runs wild.' And he told you yours doesn't, but here you are, proving him wrong." He took in her slightly confused face, looking her over, his eyes landing on her wrist. "I see you kept my shoelace."

"How would you-?"Emma spared a glance at it before looking up snapping her gaze back to his, squinting her eyes as it dawned on her. "You're in my head, a figment of my imagination."

Graham shrugged, moving to lean up against one of the trees. "I'm your subconscious, if you want to get technical." He gave her that goofy, sheepish smile that had helped him worm his way into her heart to begin with. "The last person you thought of and all."

Emma drew her lips tightly together, following him with her sword. "Is my subconscious always this smug?"

"Well, it is yours," Graham shot back, fighting a smirk. His face softened then, tilting his head to look at her hardened exterior, the one that he'd gotten past long ago. "You know it wasn't your fault, right? Not Neal, not me, not August, not Henry. None of it."

Emma's mouth gaped at that, the air leaving her lungs once more, lowering her sword then. This island had done nothing but force her to think of her past, all her faults, all the loss she'd suffered in the last year and a half alone, let alone her entire life. "You can't know that. You don't know what's happened since you've left," she tried to reason.

"But I do," he replied, pointing his finger to his head. "I'm in your head." Pushing himself from the tree, he took a few steps toward her, standing directly in front of her. "Neal leaving you wasn't your fault. He was afraid of facing his father, but it had nothing to do with you. August made his choices, and he turned to wood. Breaking the curse earlier wouldn't have changed that. There was no way you could've known that Tamara and Greg were going to take Henry here. And me? Regina was still hell bent on revenge that she would've done anything to keep the curse intact."

"But-" Emma started, her eyes welling up at his words. "But what if I'd…"

"No, Emma. I know your past is all you have here, but your future is right here," Graham said, nodding over her shoulder at something. "All you have to do is take it. It's not too late to take a leap of faith."

She knew exactly what he was talking about, who he was talking about and tried to convince herself that it wasn't that easy. "Graham, I can't just forget…"

"You're not supposed to, but stop dwelling on things you can't change. The past is the past, and it has to stay there. Your future is right around the corner, waiting for you."

Emma let out a shuddering breath at his words, wishing she could reach out and touch him, even though he wasn't there. "You are very missed. I hope you know that," she said, sniffing slightly.

He smiled softly, nodding as he did. "I know. Have a bear claw in my honor when you get back."

She started to reply when she heard another twig snap behind her, catching her attention as she turned, raising her sword to the intruder. Moments after she heard the noise, Hook emerged from the high foliage of Neverland, a scowl on his face illuminated by the lantern he carried.

"What the bloody hell are you doing out here alone, Emma?" Hook asked, irritation and a hint of worry in his voice. "You know what happened to Regina when she stayed by herself."

"I'm not I was…" Emma turned back, intent on pointing Graham out, but he was gone, just as she knew he would be. As he should be. Lingering on the past wasn't getting her anywhere. "I was clearing my head."

"And walking in circles does that for you?" He asked, genuinely curious, coming close to her. "I awoke to relieve you of your watch, and you were gone. I followed your trail, and you just walked in circles around the camp."

"We're still near the camp?"

Hook leaned against the tree next to her. "Aye. Did you not know where you were?"

"No, it's just… Like I said, I had to clear my head," she explained, hoping he bought it. It wasn't entirely false. Her talk with "Graham" had helped show things in a new light. The man in front of her didn't have to be there. They would've taken much longer to get to Neverland without him. And he was an actual, genuine help, backing her up when she needed it, never questioning her decisions. The last person to actually believe in her was Henry.

"Come on, love," Hook said, motioning with his hook in the direction he'd come, turning to walk. "Let's get back to camp."

"Wait," she said, reaching her hand out to wrap around his wrist, stopping him. Reading the surprised look on his face, she looked down for a moment, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Look, I'm not… I'm not good at this, expressing myself." She let out a breath before stepping forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her, her head resting against his shoulder. Unlike Graham, unlike all the ghosts of her past, he was warm and real and there, and he wasn't going to leave. He'd had that chance, and he wasn't going to do it. He hadn't lied to her, about anything, and she knew that. Perhaps I would.

Hook was beyond shocked when she slipped her arms around him, squeezing him slightly. It was very different from the tripwire. It wasn't hasty. There was no miscommunication. It was comforting. It was needed. Bringing his hand up, he wrapped it around her shoulders, holding her to him. "What's this for?" He asked, unsure of how to respond. She'd been so dismissive of him that seeing her openly intimate with him was a change. A good change. "Not that I'm not fond of having you pressed up against me. Just curious."

"Shut up. I'm trying to thank you," she said, not making a move to step away from him. She needed to get it all out, to let him know that this wasn't just it. That after Neverland, she would stop dwelling on her past.

Hook smiled, squeezing her shoulders slightly. "You're very welcome, Emma." He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching the ones that were so open to him, no matter how much she tried to close him off. "This is where I'm supposed to be."

Emma was surprised at his voice, the sincerity of it always taking her off guard. It was going to take time to make the change from closed off to open, but she would get there. For now, she untangled her arms from his waist, chuckling lightly as she did. "Let's get back to camp," she suggested, moving past him, almost missing the look of pure hope as she did.

"Aye. Let's."