The one thing that personalizes Neal's room beyond that of the rest of the populace is the distinct dreamcatcher hanging from the lamp next to his bed. He doesn't know how it got into his suitcase (thank you for the welcoming gift, hotel staff) but it's been a welcome sight every time he walks into his room. Beyond that, it's every bit as stark and bland as every motel room he's ever crashed in, and honestly it feels familiar to him in a way most people probably don't get. A couple decades of living (sometimes questionably legally) in rooms like this one make it seem all the more status quo, and a pretty fitting purgatory setting if he had to pick one.
Because that's what he's starting to suspect this is. Not heaven, not hell, not life, but somewhere in between. That's the only real explanation for why he's alive and kicking right now, why he can exist in the same space as a definitely alive Emma.
Hook's not wrong about his assumption on Neal's intel about his involvement. Hell, Neal can't even remember whether or not he's even seen them in the same room together, but his instincts are banking on no. He knows that Tamara's dead, he knows that she died in Neverland, and he knows the three of them wound up there around the same time, but beyond that? He's got no idea, no reason to suspect they're any degree of separation closer than that. He might be happier keeping it that way.
His eyes fall onto Killian's face, studying intensely after that half-completed, trailing sentence. KJ might not be keen on meeting Baelfire's eye, but Neal's not stupid. He knows who the pirate must be seeing, and he doesn't mince words when he says, "My mother, right?"
Because there's no point in not just hitting that nail on the head. The past is the past, and hedging around it isn't going to make it any less real. Besides, there's a sort of... distant detachment that follows Neal's memory of his mother, gone from his life a lot more thoroughly and a lot more early than his father. He barely remembers her, and there's a strange but not unpleasant lack of emotion that follows her mention.
no subject
Because that's what he's starting to suspect this is. Not heaven, not hell, not life, but somewhere in between. That's the only real explanation for why he's alive and kicking right now, why he can exist in the same space as a definitely alive Emma.
Hook's not wrong about his assumption on Neal's intel about his involvement. Hell, Neal can't even remember whether or not he's even seen them in the same room together, but his instincts are banking on no. He knows that Tamara's dead, he knows that she died in Neverland, and he knows the three of them wound up there around the same time, but beyond that? He's got no idea, no reason to suspect they're any degree of separation closer than that. He might be happier keeping it that way.
His eyes fall onto Killian's face, studying intensely after that half-completed, trailing sentence. KJ might not be keen on meeting Baelfire's eye, but Neal's not stupid. He knows who the pirate must be seeing, and he doesn't mince words when he says, "My mother, right?"
Because there's no point in not just hitting that nail on the head. The past is the past, and hedging around it isn't going to make it any less real. Besides, there's a sort of... distant detachment that follows Neal's memory of his mother, gone from his life a lot more thoroughly and a lot more early than his father. He barely remembers her, and there's a strange but not unpleasant lack of emotion that follows her mention.