The familiar surge of electricity that always accompanied magic burned through her veins. She gripped Neal's hands tighter. Rumple's voice echoed in her head: Stop thinking. Magic is about emotion. She breathed in deeply. Okay….feeling….feeling…feeling….

"Is anything happening yet?" she asked, her eyes still tightly shut.

"Um….No. No, we're pretty much doing some intense hand-holding," Neal said. He gave her hands a little shake. "This is nice, huh? We should hold hands more."

"Mmm," she said, trying to concentrate.

"You know what kind of people hold hands a lot? Couples."

"Neal, can we do this later?"

"Yeah, sure. Shutting up. You got it."

"Thank you." Emma took another deep breath, trying to summon her magic. She pictured a magnifying glass held up to the sun, focusing the powerful beams of light and energy through a tiny vortex—

"Must be hard to hold hands with people who've just got the one."

"What?" Emma opened her eyes. Neal raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What?"

"What are you….? You know what, I don't have time for this," she sighed. "I have to figure this out."

"Look, why don't we just ask Regina? She knows what she's doing."

"I can figure it out," she said, stung.

"Well, yeah…But Regina's just so much better. No-no offense, but… you know, you kind of suck at this," Neal said apologetically.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"Don't get mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You're doing your mad face."

"This is my face, Neal. This is my face."

"Yes. And it's mad."

Emma clenched her jaw, gripping Neal's hands with somewhat unnecessary force. She ignored his quiet gasp of pain and reached for her magic. A sound like a shotgun firing echoed through the woods, and a jolt of electricity sent her flying backwards, knocking the wind out of her.

"Oh….shit," she moaned, her back throbbing. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at the somewhat blurry treetops. "You all right, Neal?"

"Yeah," he said, also sounding out of breath. "But I'll tell you, that hurt like a mother—"

"What have you done?"

Emma sat up. "Rumple?" she said in disbelief. "It worked?"

Rumple looked at her horrorstruck. "You've killed him! You've killed my son!" he screamed.

"Actually, I'm fine—" Neal began.

"How could you? You've destroyed everything, you stupid, stupid girl!"

"But Rumple, he's—"

A hand shot out and gripped her throat. Rumple glared at her with such hatred, Emma felt her eyes burn. "Not another word," he growled.

"HEY. I'M FINE. HOW ARE YOU?" Neal's voice said from behind. Rumple's fury turned to confusion, and he turned around slowly, revealing Neal standing behind them.

"Bae?" he whispered.

"Yeah, you can stop strangling the mother of my child now," Neal said, scratching the back of his head. Rumple looked back at Emma and gave her a tight smile, releasing her.

"Heh. Awkward," he chuckled, helping her up.

"Is my throat all red?" she gasped, massaging her neck. Neal and Rumple leaned forward to examine her throat.

"Mmm…move your scarf…little more…uh, yeah. Yeah, it's a little red," Rumple said sheepishly.

"You all right? Can you stand up?"

"I am standing up," she said, still trying to catch her breath. Rumple and Neal's blurry faces seemed to exchange a glance, but what did she know? She could barely see.

"Okay, Em, I think we're going to take you to see Dr. Whale," Neal said gently, taking her elbow.

"What? Guys, I'm fine….Shit, how long have we been out here? It's already dark."

"No….no, it's not dark, Emma." Neal sounded concerned.

"Uh, yeah. It is dark, the sky's all black," she scoffed.

"Okay, " Rumple said too cheerfully. "Time to see Dr. Whale. Come on, Emma…"