Here is a little one shot in honor of Manhattan. Hope you all enjoy.
There were nights when Neal would refuse to sleep. Emma had noticed that he would barely speak to her on those nights. He was only capable of uttering a couple words and giving her a very unconvincing smile. Emma would try to persuade him to at least lie down and rest with her. Of course, it would never work. He liked to avoid sleep as often as possible. It was those nights that frightened her. He would sit in the front seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. His eyes, so cold and vacant as he stared out the window; they were lifeless and dull, holding painful memories that she couldn't understand yet. At first Emma would just watch him, to see if he moved or nodded off, but there were no traces of him even blinking. As time passed she learned to ignore it, sleeping and forcing herself to forget.
There were nights when she would wake up from a sudden loss of warmth, finding Neal had vanished from her side. Those nights were rare, but they frustrated her. She could hardly sleep after making the discovery of his disappearance. She would be kept awake by the persistent and constant fear that he would do something stupid and get into trouble. Neal had a knack being stupid and at getting into trouble. There was the unbearable fear that she would not be able to see him the next morning. She couldn't stand the thought of losing the only good thing she ever had in her life. She would never know where he went. All she knew was that he was out in the world instead of beside her, where he was meant to be. She would chide herself for being so childish and clingy, Neal was grown up and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. At least that is what she told herself, because she couldn't really stop herself from being scared for him, from wanting to protect him. She would live with these conflicting emotions the entire night, until Mr. tall dark and mysterious decided to show up in the morning and act as if nothing had happened. She had long since given up on asking where he went. He would never answer her.
There were nights when Emma would wake and find Neal sitting straight up, shivering and hyperventilating. His eyes would be wide and glassy with unshed tears, as if he was a lost and frightened child. Those nights would be common, and she refused to ignore him. With a large amount of bravery and love, she would slide her arms around his violently shaking form, gently and slowly, so she would not startle him. Pulling him down to her side as softly as she possibly could and cradling his head in her arms like he was a fragile newborn as his eyes darted around in confusion and fear. Emma would hold him for the rest of the night, waiting for his breathing to become even and steady. She knew better than to ask him about it in the morning, because she could tell how much it would hurt. So she resisted the burning curiosity within her veins, and convinced herself that she did not need an answer. His gorgeous smile was enough to calm her nerves, for now.
There were nights when Emma would wake upon hearing Neal screaming his lungs out. These nights were the most frequent and the most frightening. Neal seemed to change from confused and frustrated, to violent and livid, to vulnerable and scared all in just a few minuets. In his sleep, Neal would claw at the air and scream out to an unknown person, his face would be twisted in agony and anger, she had never ever thought that he could achieve an expression that was so vicious. The first time she was too afraid to even do anything. When she finally mustered the courage to reach out and touch him, he stilled and his eyes shot open. Her touch was enough to conciliate whatever inner demons he was fighting, and this gave her a sense of purpose that she had never felt before. She gained a sense of security, thinking that he must have loved her like she so desperately hoped he did. Sometimes, when she held him close in order to keep the nightmares at bay, she would wonder who Neal was yelling to, the nameless person whom he would call a coward in his sleep. Most times she wouldn't care, simply content in being the one who could sooth those nightmares and become a safe haven for him.
And now there were nights when Emma could not sleep, because she feels that when she opens her eyes she should be lying in a car, she should see Neal sitting in the drivers seat and gripping the steering wheel. There were nights when she would wake from the lack of warmth in fear, only to mentally slap herself for being so absolutely ridiculous. She knew he was gone, and that this time he wouldn't come back. There were nights when she would find a pillow held in her arms like a baby, like the way she held Neal, stupid selfish Neal and her son, her sweet angelic son, whom she was able to hold like that for only the shortest of moments. A son that she had to give up because of his asshole of a father. When she found the pillow cradled in her arms like that, she would throw it across the room in a fit of rage and them break down in to violent sobs. There were nights when she could swear that she heard Neal's screams. She would be filled with an overwhelming feeling of love that she could not control. She needed to help him, he was broken and only she could repair him.
Now, every night she would curse Neal and his stupid problems that he burdened her with every night. She would hate sleep and nighttime because of their horrible affects on her. And she would curse and hate herself, because no matter how much they frightened her and frustrated her, she would give anything for one more night with Neal Cassidy.
Stupid, selfish, mysterious, gorgeous, broken Neal Cassidy
I absolutly loved the Manhattan episode, not just because it proved the theory of Henrys father=Baelfire right, even though that revelation did make me get this stupid grin on my face.
Well I hope you enjoy. Please review. : D. Still grinning like the Joker here.