All they'd wanted was a little time to themselves - just a few hours to relax and enjoy each other's company. Couple time was one of those little luxuries that as Sheriff, Emma Swan-Jones found increasingly difficult to fit into her busy schedule. Even with the Black Fairy defeated and Rumplestiltskin gone off to some distant realm to raise his son with Belle, Storybrooke was still anything but calm. There always seemed to be some sort of skirmish going on that kept both her and her Deputy husband occupied.
Today, they'd been married for six months and despite their opposing schedules, they'd wanted to do something special to celebrate the anniversary but they weren't certain they'd be able to fit something in. Even a brief interlude at Granny's seemed out of the question after a Viking uprising against the Harbormaster caused disruption at the docks and a trio of former Lost Boys were wanted for vandalizing half of the town as well as for breaking into several homes and local businesses. While they hadn't really stolen much, they were causing thousands of dollars in damages and Storybrooke residents wanted them caught and prosecuted. For a small town, this place definitely had no shortage of criminal activity to keep their law enforcement hopping.
This morning, she'd learned that the now-adult Lost Boys had broken into the elementary school by shattering a window of a third grade classroom, spending approximately five minutes trashing desks, chairs and even a couple of laptops before the janitor chased them off. Their juvenile destruction might have been minor compared to other crimes in Storybrooke history but it added to her already hefty caseload. Emma was getting ready to head over to the school to speak to that same janitor to get descriptions of the hooligans and survey the damages when her father surprised her, entering through the station's rear door off of the alley. She nearly leapt out of her chair when she caught sight of David Nolan out of the corner of her eye.
"Dad?!" she exclaimed, pushing back from the desk. "What are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me!"
"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," he replied in a slightly sheepish, embarrassed tone. "Anyway, I'm here to take over."
Emma glared up at him quizzically, eyebrows knitted in suspicion at his choice of words. "What do you mean take over?"
"I'm giving you the day off. It's your six-month anniversary so you and Hook should spend the day together, not chasing after a bunch of wayward overgrown adolescents."
"You remembered that it was our six-month anniversary?"
"Well, not me technically," David confessed. "Your mother was actually the one who reminded me and suggested that I take on duties as Sheriff today so that the two of you can have the day off."
"You're going to work Killian's shift this afternoon too?"
"Don't worry. I've got it covered," he assured her. "Go home. Go get your husband and go enjoy the day together. It's not often that we get weather this nice in November so maybe take advantage of that?"
Emma wasn't about to hesitate on accepting his offer, hopping up from her chair and giving her father a huge hug of gratitude before grabbing her jacket that had been hanging on the doorknob and dashing gleefully towards the door.
So, that was how her day had started. Emma hurried home in search of her husband but didn't find him at the house. A quick check of the GPS locator on his cell phone revealed that he was down at the harbor, likely tending to something on the Jolly Roger since she doubted he'd seen the report about the Viking incident yet. He was also probably unaware that his father-in-law had given him the afternoon off. With their schedules now free, they spent a few minutes deciding how they would spend their time. Killian was quick to suggest sailing out into the harbor but Emma wanted to take advantage of this beautiful, late fall day to find an isolated place out in the woods where they could be alone - and as far from Storybrooke as they could realistically get. She painted a vivid picture for him of the two of them sharing a picnic lunch beneath a canopy of pine trees, perhaps seeing if their alone time might develop into even more enjoyable activities.
It took only a few minutes to throw together a decent picnic lunch, to which Emma added a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio and a pair of stemless wine goblets. Killian rounded up an old, red and black plaid blanket that he rolled tightly to fit into the bottom of Emma's beat up canvas backpack before she packed the food, water bottles and utensils on top of it. Emma shook her head when he attempted to tuck his trusty rum flask into the pack as well. She wanted to keep him sober for this little unplanned getaway and besides, they could save the rum for later…
So they drove out past the toll (or was it troll?) bridge to the furthest reaches of Storybrooke's borders to a spot Emma remembered from her many adventures traipsing through these same woods in search of the villain of the week. It was a picturesque evergreen thicket located approximately a hundred yards from the dirt road that led to the mountains north of town. The ground here was blanketed in a thick carpet of pine needles and fallen leaves that crunched beneath their boots as they strolled arm in arm towards the hidden refuge they sought.
But that was about as idyllic as their day would get. As they ventured away from the road, an uneasiness began to prickle the hair on the back of her neck, the forest growing denser and more claustrophobic with every step she took. What had earlier seemed such a wonderful idea now had her cursing herself as she unconsciously clung tighter to Killian's arm.
"You alright there, Love?" he asked, pausing on the trail until she would meet his questioning gaze.
"I'm just having some second thoughts about whether this was actually a good idea or not…" she replied, gaining a skeptically arched eyebrow from her husband in return.
"Second thoughts about spending our afternoon together?"
"No, definitely not that! I wouldn't give up spending alone time with you for anything, but I'm thinking that maybe coming out here wasn't such a great idea. These woods are a little more imposing than I remembered…"
"If you'd rather turn back and go elsewhere, I'm certain we could come up with numerous enjoyable activities in which to divulge our time…" Emma shook her head at the innuendo laden smirk crossing his lips, but she couldn't deny that he was right. There were plenty of other things they could do besides a November picnic in the forest.
"You're not disappointed? I mean, I turned down sailing on the Jolly Roger for this…"
"I could never be disappointed in time spent with you, Swan."
"Then let's get out of here. We can go camp out in the back yard or the living room instead."
"As you wish," he smiled as they turned back towards the dirt road where she'd parked the Bug, Emma wrapping her fingers around his hook and playfully tugging it, but they'd barely made it a few steps before Emma froze. Something off to their right had captured her attention. "Emma? What's wrong, Love?"
"Over there…," she replied in a whisper. "Looks like a campsite. Who would be camping way out here?"
"Campsite? Where?" He either wasn't looking in the right place or was simply not seeing what she had spotted.
"Off to the right, beyond that row of bushes…" Once she pointed him in the right direction, Killian now spied what had garnered her attention - a glimpse of a bright blue plastic sheet apparently hanging from the distant trees to form a makeshift shelter and almost entirely obscured by the heavy undergrowth. He also discerned a few curls of smoke rising from a still-smoldering fire which, together with the fabricated tent, indicated they weren't alone in this dense patch of forest.
"Looks as though someone's been here recently," he added in the same hushed tone. "See the tendrils of smoke rising from their fire? Perhaps someone else has chosen to take advantage of this temperate weather as we are?"
"I don't know, Killian. I'm not getting a good vibe about this… Who do we know who'd want to set up camp this far out of town? Are any of Robin Hood's gang still around?"
"Not that I'm aware. I believe they all returned to the Enchanted Forest."
"What about Lost Boys?"
"The few that came back with us have a compound south of town. They tend to keep together, the distrustful little sods."
"Then who could it be? Most Storybrooke residents are still afraid of getting this close to the town line intentionally, even if there isn't a curse attached to it any longer. Pretty hard habit to break…"
"I've no better an idea than you, Love," he responded with a shrug, although his curiosity was certainly piqued.
"Maybe we should get a closer look?" she suggested, her instincts kicking in. "If this isn't anyone we know, we might have a bigger problem."
"Alright, but I suggest we make this a brief investigation. The person might not appreciate the interruption and of course, we do have other plans…" Killian flashed his cheekiest grin at his wife, but it was quickly wiped from his visage as a gunshot rang out and the accompanying bullet ricocheted off a tree mere inches to his left. A second shot followed almost instantly, striking the ground at Emma's feet. "Doesn't appear that our mystery camper wishes to be identified, Swan! Let's go!" He reached out and grasped ahold of her wrist, urgently tugging her away from the mysterious campsite as a third and fourth shot whizzed past them.
Emma hesitated for a moment, trying to determine who was shooting at them but all she could definitively discern was that the bullets were coming from the direction of the road, which meant little to no chance of escaping to the Bug. All they would be able to do was sprint deeper into the darkening forest so, as soon as she came to her senses, that was precisely what they did. If she'd been able to figure out the shooter's position, she might have been able to freeze them with magic, but without that information, her brain insisted that flight was their best option. She'd probably second guess that decision later but they'd ran - ran until they believed they'd distanced themselves enough from their unexpected guest.
Minutes later, panting and exhausted, they dropped to the earth, sheltering behind a moss-covered outcrop of granite boulders.
"Think we lost them?" Emma wondered, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead and neck.
"Well, whomever we encountered has stopped shooting at us, but unless our unknown assailant makes a return appearance, we won't know for certain." Killian slumped his body against the rocks, breathing heavily as his body felt starved for oxygen. He really must have been allowing himself to go soft since he'd made Storybrooke home because he was feeling every bit of his 300 years of age right now.
Beside him, Emma had dug her cell phone from her pocket but her face was marred by a deep frown as she saw there was no signal. "We really need to work on improving the cell service around here," she grumbled. "There's no signal so I can't call out for help."
"At least you have magic should we encounter this person again," he reminded her as a pained groan escaped him when he attempted to shift positions.
"All the good that did us when our mystery gunman started shooting. No idea where exactly they were shooting from. I mean, I suppose I could have blasted everything between us and the road, but it might not have done us any good."
"Perhaps I should have insisted that you poof us out of there instead of running," he lamented, sucking in another deep breath as his lungs continued to ache. "I'm getting too old for this…"
"Beginning to feel your age, Captain?" she taunted in attempt to lighten the mood.
"Aye - every bloody year…" he sighed, tipping his head back, staring up at the pine boughs stretched out well above their heads as he clutched tightly at his chest.
"Are you having that much trouble catching your breath?" Emma asked, the light-hearted teasing now giving way to genuine concern that he wasn't recovering as easily as he should have from their dash through the woods. He might be centuries old, but his physical body was that of a man in his late 30s and he was definitely in good shape. This just wasn't like him.
"Aye," he replied as she tucked her phone away and crawled closer to him. "It's really hard to breathe…"
"Let me unbutton that vest so your chest isn't so constricted," she offered, pushing his arm out of her way. "I remember those damned Enchanted Forest corsets and that thing looks almost as bad…" Her nimble fingers made quick work of the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on his black leather waistcoat, but as she brushed the leather to the side to release some of the pressure on his rib cage, a disturbing sight caught her eye - a deep stain on his navy blue shirt. Her fingertips probed it gently, finding it damp, but not with sweat. And her fear was confirmed as she withdrew her fingers to find her skin tinted with crimson. "Killian - you're bleeding!"
"Am I?" he allowed his gaze to drift downward at the apparent injury, yet somehow, even presented with the evidence, he wasn't feeling anything more than merely short of breath.
"One of those bullets must have hit you," she continued, carefully pulling his tucked shirttail from the waistband of his jeans then cautiously lifted the fabric, peeling it away from his tender flesh to uncover the oozing wound on his left side, located just below his bottom rib. "Can you lean forward a bit?" she queried, suspecting from the wound's appearance that this was an exit wound. He nodded, pushing away from the boulder and nearly falling against his wife's shoulder.
Her suspicion was confirmed seconds later as she located the matching hole in the back of his leather jacket. She didn't need to find the actual hole in his skin to know it was there, but at least it meant she wouldn't have to attempt to dig a slug out of him.
"Okay, looks like the bullet went clean through, but I don't know if it hit anything vital. I mean, you were still able to run after being struck and you're still talking now, so chances are good that it didn't hit anything major. Let me heal this and we'll get the hell out of here."
She hovered her right hand above his abdomen, awaiting the familiar magic to flow through her and heal his injuries, but this time, nothing happened. "Damnit!" she hissed, her exclamation exiting in a too-loud whisper.
"What's wrong, Love?"
"We must have crossed over the town line somewhere. Magic isn't working." She let out a heavy sigh as her brain tried to come to terms with their precarious situation. They were lost in the woods somewhere north of town with no magic, no weapons, no cell phones and an unknown person possibly pursuing them. Killian was wounded, potentially seriously, and she couldn't heal him. She didn't even have a first aid kit with her as it was back in the trunk of the Bug. So much for enjoying their anniversary… "Okay - think you will be able to walk? We aren't going to be able to stay here."
"Not sure…"
"We might not have a choice, but first, let's see if we have something we can use in here," she rambled as she shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders and unceremoniously tossed it to the ground at her feet. After unzipping the main compartment, she dumped the contents out, recognizing the importance of lightening their load as she rifled through the varied items. The blanket Killian had so meticulously rolled earlier hadn't fallen out of the backpack so she left it inside, immediately placing the bottled water and sandwiches alongside it as they'd likely need those later. The bottle of wine wasn't really worth carrying but Emma placed it off to the side as she might be able to use it as a disinfectant since it did contain alcohol. Killian's rum would have been much more useful for that purpose since it was higher proof and now she could kick herself for making him leave the flask behind.
The majority of the remaining items would be abandoned - the wine glasses, the container of fruit salad and the buttery pound cake that her mother had dropped off that morning (which should have been a hint that her parents were plotting something).
"Think we could use the wine to clean out that wound?" she asked, hoping the alcohol content was sufficient.
"I'd rather just drink it," he scoffed.
"That's not happening. You don't need to be getting buzzed right now. You'll probably start going into shock soon if we can't get you medical attention." She located the corkscrew amongst the discarded items and twisted it into the top of the bottle to release the cork. It probably wasn't the best thing to use but her options were limited and it seemed better than nothing. Tugging the cork free, she flicked it aside and poured a decent amount of the golden liquid onto a wad of paper towels she'd brought along to use as napkins. Clenching her teeth, she pressed the soaked towels against the bullet wound as Killian flinched and hissed at the pain. He was definitely feeling the injury now, especially as she applied more pressure to try to slow the bleeding.
"Damn, that smarts…" Killian said as his face contorted into a grimace. He knew that what she was doing was necessary, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"Sorry...Hold this in place for a moment while I get this stuff together. We need to get moving…"
"Help me up first," he insisted as she pushed herself to her feet before taking hold of his outstretched and now bloodstained hand, helping him stand up then releasing her grip and passing the wine-drenched paper towels to him as his fingers slid back beneath his jacket to cover the wound. "Now - which way should we venture?"
"We need to find a way back across the town line. That way, I can poof us out of here and we can return with backup to capture the shooter."
"And which way do you suppose that line lies?" Killian asked, realizing that he'd become slightly disoriented by the advancing effects of blood loss and their rapid retreat from the gunman earlier. He wasn't even certain from which direction they'd come and little looked familiar. "This pirate can navigate by the stars, but I'm not as adept at navigating by trees."
"We'll have to head south - toward the lake."
"And which way is south?"
"That way, I think," she said as she pointed to her left. "I can see the ridge of mountains over there to the right, so that has to be north."
"Is that the same direction from whence we came?" he questioned, his weary mind assessing the likelihood of danger ahead. "The direction we're apt to encounter the gunman once again?"
She nodded silently before following her affirmation with an explanation. "Hopefully, they won't be expecting us to head back the way we came. Either way, we don't have a choice. It's the only direction that I know right now will lead us back to the town line."