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"He hurt Emma," David said with finality. As far as he was concerned, that was all that needed to be said to win the argument.
Snow disagreed. Of course, she did, he sighed, she was raised with rules and traditions and trained to always think of the common good and the wider audience. "His sacrifice brought us a chance to get Emma back."
David smoothed his palm over the boy's tuft of downy hair, considering his wife's words. He could see whether would think so, recalling how the man had sauntered up to them and said he'd find Emma even though they had been explicitly told that to do so was both impossible and would endanger her.
David almost snorted, recalling Emma's anger and his own dark thoughts when his daughter had explained exactly how the man had treated her. It didn't surprise him that he was trying to redeem himself from his past mistakes, or that it seemed he was making another anyway, paying no heed to what was best for Emma and being selfish and ignoring the consent he hadn't been given. Again.
"No, that's what he thought he was doing," David explained. The man had forfeited his life, finally accepting the consequences of his actions - noble and honourable - but that didn't excuse the other things he had done. Nor did it count as something he had done for the town or for Emma. Their daughter had described the even, Regina had used magic to corral the memory when she hadn't believed the events described and they'd all witnessed it, that last loaded moment between father and son, charged and wonderful but not about Emma at all.
"His bringing back the Dark One didn't actually accomplish anything," David let his voice low as he passed the newborn back to his wife, fingers trailing on the tiny body as they made the trade. He remained standing, unwilling to put any more distance between himself and his son. "That was our sacrifice."
"He died to give us Gold back," Snow countered, her voice just as soft as she tucked their baby against her breast.
A pang of longing lanced through him at the sight.
"And it was Rumple whose magic we might have needed to defeat the witch," David agreed that the idea hadn't been without merit, "but he was more hindrance than help."
"Neal died in Emma's arms."
Snow-capped-mountain-blue eyes snapped down to the slumbering baby in her arms as though regretting using such a vulgar term in his presence.
David stood with his hand on his hip, the other on the metal railing of the hospital bed. He couldn't understand why his wife would mention that moment when they both knew it to not be wholly true. Unless she wanted the debate, she always did like a challenge and a partner and her cheeks were flushed with warmth and frustration and perhaps, just a little enjoyment too.
"He passed in her care as the son of the Dark One finally forgiving his father for his sins."
Her smile was beautiful when it turned from their son to him, saying diplomatically, "And that sort of forgiveness is something I'd like our son to embody."
"I'm not sure how Emma will feel about that."
"She will understand," mother said softly as though she was speaking to her slumbering new son.
David collapsed onto the terribly thin hospital bed by Mary Margaret's hip with a sigh. "She shouldn't have to understand."
Her petite fingers left their baby so she could stroke his cheek and David leant into her touch. He inhaled deeply, under the disinfectant there was that incredibly familiar scent of newborn baby and the floral perfume of his wife's skin. He could happily bottle that smell and carry it with him his whole life, although he didn't necessarily need to. For as long as he'd live, David would never forget it and the way his insides - his worry about the next villain, his cautiousness around Emma and worry about Henry accepting him, that niggling feeling he got when his princess and the pirate were standing shoulder to shoulder again - felt as though they settled into their rightful place.
David leant forward, his body pulling him toward his family. He bowed his head so he could look at his boy and his wife matched the movement, leaning her forehead against his. David watched her inhale deeply, keeping a protective gaze on their son as though she was afraid of losing him again, just as they had lost his sister.
Then, as though realising there was no danger left to fear or perhaps with exhaustion, Mary Margaret's eyes slid closed contentedly.
"I'd like to name out child after a hero," Mary Margaret told him softly, not opening her eyes.
David didn't raise his voice or his head from its position against hers. He wrapped his arm around the two of them protectively. "I'd like to name him after a good man."
Snow was quiet for a time, diplomatic and practical and thoughtful as always. He waited patiently, knowing she'd let him in eventually. She scowled as though juggling knives without being trained to do so.
"I'd like to rally our people with his name," she revealed reluctantly, as though she saw no other choice. Snow had taken her role as Princess of the People seriously back in the Enchanted Forest and David had loved her for it then. She was grasping the role with just as much pluck and aplomb now. Again, duty and honour made Snow's skin glow with hope and purpose. But David couldn't deny that even though his cursed self had been caught between real memory and fake to the extent that he hadn't truly fit in to the modern world until he fell into Regina's trap and accepted the new reality, he recognised that this world had different standards and views to theirs. Duty wasn't as important here, especially when Mary Margaret didn't actually have a title in this town.
She was stepping up as rightful queen just like he'd always wanted her to, and he could see her radiance overtaking her, surrounding her with light and happiness. David just wasn't sure if that sort of thinking could make everyone happy, anymore. Someone's heart was bound to break eventually. While he feared it would probably be Regina's as she realised that her burgeoning friendship with her step-daughter and enemy was all for nought as Snow usurped her as she was meant to do all those years ago in the Enchanted Forest, David had an inkling that it wouldn't be Regina who got hurt at all but someone far closer to them.
"That's why I like Leopold," Mary Margaret explained. "It carries that tradition, unites the people of the Enchanted Forest."
"What about Regina?" David asked. "She married the man in a fraught time when she thought she'd never find love or happiness. Her marriage to him gave her time and space to turn her heart dark with vengeance and hate, and in the end, she killed him. To remind her of that time, that hatred and fear and lack of control, that one last violent act, is too cruel, even for Regina."
"That's why Neal fits," Mary Margaret countered. "Yes, he broke our Emma, betrayed her and never came back for her."
"Isn't that enough reason not to use it?" David didn't understand what his wife was thinking and let his face gurn and contort so that she could see as much.
"But for the time they were together, where Leopold reminded Regina of all her hurt, Neal gave Emma hope and promise."
"Promises he didn't keep," David growled. "Hope by twisting the thoughts of a young girl to suit his whims, lying and eventually stealing her faith in herself. I won't name my son as a reminder of that time."
"We are keeping this child, David, we're not losing it to a curse," Snow furrowed her brow, voice razing. She was determined. More than that, David realised, she was scared.
He narrowed his eyes at her, interrogating his wife with a look.
"This child is a reminder that we've moved beyond the curse," Mary Margaret explained. "That we have hope we have moved past the curse and that we've forgiven those who cast it."
David nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. "So it's not about Emma."
There were tears in Mary Margaret's eyes, regret pulling her mouth into a frown. A woman shouldn't frown with their newborn in their arms, David thought, wondering if Emma had frowned down at Henry when she realised she'd have to give him up just like she had been. She never spoke about that moment.
She didn't need to, he realised. It was written in every action she took, the way she carried herself, always guarded, always afraid to fully hug Henry for fear he'd pull away and never return. Had Emma thought about him in those years before he found her? She'd certainly come back to Storybrooke, buoyed by her fake memories of being his mother, more tactile with her son at first and less so as time went on, as she feared he'd remember his other mother, the one who chose him and stayed. That year of fake memories had helped her accept her past as purposeful but not defining. If Neal hadn't met her, she wouldn't have Henry, and if he hadn't left, Henry wouldn't have Regina and Emma wouldn't have her parents.
It didn't fix any of the other problems, David knew, fearing that his daughter would still run back to New York if she was given the chance. But it did make swallowing the truth a little easier, knowing that they were all happy with their lot in life now, that those blind alleys and betrayals resulted in something meaningful. Even if they hurt.
"We have to think of everyone," Mary Margaret said. "This is the prince. These are his people. This name has to mean something."
"Emma is one of our people," David tried, but he knew it was no use. Their daughter, while their heir, was not of the Enchanted Forest. She wasn't one of the subjects they needed to comfort and protect after this latest battle.
"Neal was a good man, in the end," Snow reasoned.
David's eyebrows shot up. He'd been spending too much time with the pirate.
"He was a good son. Loyal and loving to his father. He died for family and for forgiveness." She stroked the boy's soft head. "We want out boy to be a good son, loyal and forgiving."
David bit his molars together, trying to remain stoically on Emma's side of the battlefield, but Snow looked so tenderly at the baby in her arms. The last time she'd held their child she'd been in tears, the time before that, distraught. She deserved this soft moment in the evening twilight without conflict from him. Plus, there was that nostalgic and fortifying smell in the air and a contentedness that it brought with it. David blinked slowly, his son matching the movement as he awoke as though he'd been summoned by the name.
No, he refused to think of fate and how hearing worked. Neal was a good name, a strong name, and Snow made some valid points about forgiveness and duty to their people, but she was overlooking their daughter and David would not stand for it.
"Henry knows the full story of Neal and Emma now," Mary Margaret whispered between them, the story too ugly for their newborn's ears, but she seemed adamant to reference it. "He remembers living for twelve years hating the man who abandoned him and his mother. I think we should do something to show him that the man was someone to be proud of."
David pursed his lips. For Henry, he could understand honouring the man. "Then we'll erect a statue in the park."
Mary Margaret sent him a pointed look with those beautiful wide eyes of hers and an amused smile. "And our people should see that we've made peace with the Dark One."
"So we'll invite him to dinner," David shrugged off that suggestion too.
His wife snorted and the baby in her arms startled, tiny fingers splaying in mid-air before he curled back to her chest, unperturbed. Mary Margaret lowered her voice again. "You know Hook and Rumple won't be happy to sit across from each other."
David reached for those impossibly small hands and stroked one of his son's fingers, from the long, fragile nail, down the crooked bone until the digit curled around his larger finger. He used his thumb to stroke the back of the baby's hand and the child made a soft noise that brought tears to the edges of the man's eyes.
He'd never held Emma like this. He should have. He was going to have every moment with this child and never let Emma out of his sight again.
"It's tradition to name a son after a father or a friend and you've already nixed Leo."
David didn't even glare at his wife. Leo sounded far nicer than Leopold but he was still firmly against the name. He knew what Snow was doing. She was ticking off all the other options and writing them off for good reason. Soon there'd be none left but the name she hoped would unite the people and appease a few of them. All for the sake of tradition and duty.
"We're not naming him after my alcoholic father," David grumbled, offering the line as reference that they had other family members, other options. They had a whole town of people who loved them and other names they could choose.
"Or James," Mary Margaret added, another name they wouldn't allow adding to their list.
David thought for a silent moment in the darkness of the room. They hadn't turned on the lamp by the beside, so the only illumination came from the small window in the closed hospital door that otherwise shut out all sound and distraction from the outside world until it was just the three of them without a care in the world. Except what to write on the birth certificate.
Then he remembered an old face. "What about Charles?" he tried. When Mary Margaret didn't cotton on to the name, he explained. "The man who helped us put aside our differences by taking us on his quest to find his princess."
Mary Margaret nodded at the memory, the carriage ride with the insufferable prince teasing her at every bump in the road. She hadn't fallen for David then, but he'd certainly earnt her respect, and she him, as they discussed their plans in the privacy of the carriage the other determined prince was driving. "The princess who was a thief and a felon?"
David nodded solemnly. This was a good idea and he knew it, so he used his wife's reasoning against her, adopting her lilting, political tone and copying what she had to say. "He seemed to understand love and sacrifice, I'd like our son to understand the same way."
Mary Margaret shook her head. "I'd like our son to personify forgiveness and understanding and family and second chances."
"Charles is a strong name," David countered. "And a strong man. He was loyal and brave and-"
"Neal has a connection to our people, David," she sounded exhausted, by the childbirth or the conversation, David couldn't be sure. "Naming him Neal will show unity and forgiveness and help Henry honour his father. We all know the poor boy didn't even get a second chance to be with him or to know him as a hero."
David nodded. For Henry. "Fine. But you're telling Emma."
"Emma will understand," hope tainted her voice and David realised, for the first time, that Mary Margaret was just as scared of offending their daughter as he was, she was simply putting her duty as the royal family first. "We're naming her brother after Henry's father, a good man who made mistakes. We're uniting our people and encouraging forgiveness, Emma's too."
He kissed her nose and then wiped a tear from her cheek with his unoccupied hand. "I suppose it would be good for our daughter to have a good man associated with the name, rather than a terrible memory every time she says the name of her son's father."
Snow smiled beatifically at him and David melted. He still wasn't sure if it was the correct decision, if they were doing right by Emma, but his wife was right. It was a good name and exhibited a loyalty and resilience that was admirable, a loyalty they wanted to promote, and the name would provide a good, united image to a town that was still so divided by old ties to good and evil despite its purveyors having made leaps and bounds to redeem themselves.
He blinked slowly again, letting himself settle into the peace of the moment. He inhaled deeply and waited until Snow exhaled before he did so, their breathing slowing restfully in the quiet.
Like his son a moment earlier, David startled, knocking his forehead against his wife's, who moaned in pain. "Do you really think Hook will be at family dinners permanently?"
"Oh, David," she laughed.
He wasn't sure he liked that answer. But he supposed, if his little girl was happy and his wife was cradling their son, he might not mind the man who saved his life and brought Emma back into it being in the picture too.
So long as she stayed in town after finding out what they had named her brother.