A/N: Someone on tumblr requested that I write a fic set post 'winter finale' curse to tide them over during the hiatus. I was going to make it a quick one-shot, but the prompt ran away from me and became something a bit more involved and in-depth. I imagine it'll be about 3 chapters long and I'll post the chapters in the next few days. They're almost completed, but I have a few tweaks and revisions I want to make first.

I'm still working on Every Monday Night, so fear not! When someone asked for this, the plot bug planted itself in my mind and I couldn't get rid of it; all I could do was write it out. This was the result.

Enjoy!

And, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I live for them.

Disclaimer: I do not own OUaT or its characters. ABC owns all. I just play in their sandbox.


Title of this fic is taken from the song Take You Higher by Goodwill & Hook N Sling

She said "Hello, Mister
Pleased to meet you"
I wanna hold her
I wanna kiss her

She smells of daisy
She smells of daisy
She drive me crazy
She drive me crazy

Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane
Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane
Hey, Hey

Can I take you, take you higher? (hey, hey - hey, hey)

I wanna hold her
I wanna kiss her


Killian laughed bitterly to himself as the short, rotund policeman ushered him through the station, pulling roughly on his arm as he dragged him down the hall.

Oh, how he owed a certain charming fellow a swift boot to the ass when he returned to the Enchanted Forest.

"You have to find her, Hook. Make her remember and bring her home to us."

"Well, when you put it that way, it all sounds so very easy. It's a wonder I hadn't come to that conclusion myself," Killian replied in a sardonic drawl, taking another swig from his tumbler.

David frowned, lightly smacking the pirate's shoulder. "Stop being a wiseass. I may have a plan." His tone abruptly changed, suddenly serious and urgent, "Do you love her?"

Killian scoffed, peering at the man through the corner of his eye, mouth tugging into a vicious grin. "Considering you're her overprotective father, I'm not so sure it'd be wise of me to answer that question, mate."

"I'm being serious, Hook."

The pirate ran his tongue along his teeth, staring listlessly at the bar as he swirled his glass, the amber liquid sloshing at the movement. His voice was quiet and hushed, "You know that I do."

"Would you consider it True Love?" Killian snapped his head to look at his companion, startled by the question, and for a moment, he thought the man was mocking him, ridiculing his feelings.

"It'd be rather presumptuous of me to assume the Lady Swan feels as I do, wouldn't you say?"

David leveled him with a stern gaze, shifting irritably in his seat. "Just answer the question."

The pirate nodded solemnly. "Aye, I believe that it is. Now is there a point to all this, or do you mean to simply torture me with the reminder that she's lost to me?"

"True Love's kiss can break any curse. If it is True Love, then all you have to do is kiss Emma and the curse will be broken and she'll remember. Remember you, remember me and Snow, remember the Enchanted Forest – she'll remember everything."

Oh, he was a sneaky bugger, that Prince Charming. That wicked, evil, depraved man. Planting a seed of hope in the pirate's mind, leading him to believe that he was Emma's True Love, that all he had to do was kiss the woman to clear her mind of the fog and erase the haze of false memories that littered her brain.

When he'd kissed her, there was a moment, the briefest of instances, where he'd thought it'd worked, that the spell had been broken. He could have sworn that for a fraction of a second, Emma had leaned into his touch, returning the fervor that he'd poured into the kiss, all the desperate passion he'd felt during her absence.

There weren't words that could adequately express the utter agony he'd felt when the kiss failed, when she pushed him off and kneed him in the groin as she cast him out of her apartment. It was a cruel twist of fate, salt in a festering wound, the turn of a blade embedded in flesh, when it was fully realized to him that his love was unrequited.

True Love's kiss would have broken the curse, and it was now painfully obvious to the pirate that that wasn't him, wasn't ever him, wouldn't ever be him. Despite the harsh realization, he couldn't find it in himself to regret kissing her, relishing the dreadfully short moment when he finally felt her lips against his. His dreams of her didn't hold a candle to the fire of actually seeing and feeling her again.

It'd been worth it, everything he'd done to get here. He'd cut off his own shadow, the excruciating pain tearing a cry from his throat as he peeled the shadow free from unyielding skin, and entrapped it on the sail of the Jolly Roger – a final, desperate act of a desperate man. All the pain, all the struggle, all the torment was worth it, simply because he'd been granted the blessed opportunity to see her again.

Damn that Charming.

Killian should have known the dastardly prince was setting him up, and he'd foolishly fallen for the ruse, all too eager to believe that he was Emma's True Love, that their kiss meant something, that she felt for him as he did for her. David was likely having himself a jolly good laugh at the pirate's misfortune, chuckling with demented self-satisfaction at Killian's pain and disappointment, utterly and disgustingly pleased with himself.

The bloody wanker; he was going to pay for his treachery, and he would pay dearly.

The police officer harshly yanked on Killian's handcuffs, the sharp metal digging into his skin as he was steered towards on open cell.

"Ooooh, it makes me all tingly when you get rough," Killian leered at the balding man, brow arching suggestively.

"Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking cell, pretty boy," the man responded gruffly as he pushed the pirate into the barred room. He walked up behind him, fiddling with the key as he unlocked the cuffs.

Killian grinned impishly as he taunted the man, "I love it when you talk dirty."

He felt a hand smack the back of his head, crudely pushing him forward as the man detached the shackles and left the cell. Grumbling an irritated response, the officer locked the door and skulked down the hall, the soft echo of his footfalls falling silent as he exited. The pirate observed his meager accommodations with disinterest as he rubbed his hand on his left forearm, massaging the slight burn of pain.

He didn't like this land – all the pretense and chaos of everyday life. It was nothing like the other realms he'd visited; the people here were callous and cruel, stubborn and selfish, caring little for the world outside of theirs. It was a land without magic, a land without hope, and he hated it.

His cheeks puffed out as he expelled his breath, musing over the events of the day, feeling an ache in his chest at Emma's response to him, his gut twisting into painful knots. He hadn't been able to break through to her, hadn't cleared the fog from her memory – the kiss failed and he was nothing more than a mere stranger to her.

Of all the thousand ways this day could have panned out, being locked up in this strange penitentiary at the hands of his lovely Swan hadn't even crossed his mind.


"Who the fuck are you and why do you keep following me? You have exactly two minutes to explain yourself before I call the cops," Emma rounded on him as he trailed her in the park, a wild, dangerous gleam to her eye.

"My name is Killian Jones. We used to be… acquainted, but you've been cursed and lost your memory," he looked at her imploringly, his devastatingly intense gaze searching hers for any intimation that she remembered him, vaguely, somewhere hidden deeply in the recess of her mind. All he was greeted with was a frustrated look of muddied confusion.

"What're you talking about? Look, I don't know who you think I am, but you've got the wrong girl, all right? So just go fuck off and leave me and my son alone." Her tone was terse and clipped, a hint of fear nipping at the heels of her words. She clutched her coat tighter around her, as if it would protect her from the lingering sense of danger, and Killian knew she thought something was amiss, knew that she was placing more weight to his words than she was letting on.

"But I do know who you are!" he beseeched her, reaching out with his hand before she abruptly shirked from his touch as if he would transmit some horrible, communicable disease to her. His lips turned down, frowning at the cold, empty distance between them. "Likely better than anyone else. Your name is Emma Swan. You had your son in jail when you were 18 years old. Your birthday is October 22nd. You were orphaned when you were a babe and it's led you to become a very closed off, untrusting person."

She looked at him skeptically, brow rising high on her forehead, and Killian panicked when he saw that small trace of her elusive recollection dissipate, her walls rebuilding, firmly cutting him out – his frantic attempt at reasoning with her, to make her believe. He was losing her – again – and all hope he'd had of making her remember him was quickly dwindling.

"Any creep with access to the internet could've figured that one out. Your two minutes are up – I'm calling the cops." She pulled a small object from her pocket, fingers working on the small screen before she brought it to her ear, speaking in a hushed, scared whisper into the contraption.

"You like your hot cocoa with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. You prefer storms to sunshine because the sound of the falling rain calms you and gives you serenity. You chose your surname after your first foster family because they were the only ones who made you feel you had a home, had a family, until they had a child of their own. You're bossy and petulant and insufferable; you're strong and determined and passionate. You're scared to love because everyone you've ever loved has abandoned you. I know you, Emma Swan, and you know me. You simply can't remember." His words were frenzied as they flew out of his mouth, and he had to summon every ounce of willpower to keep his tone steady, to prevent it from trembling with unspoken emotion as the woman he loved blocked him out, cast him to the side, refused to listen to that haltingly quiet voice in her head that was whispering the truth to her – that Killian was familiar, that what he was saying was true.

He settled her with a dizzyingly intense gaze, wordlessly conveying all the tumultuous emotion that she stirred within him. He had to get her to remember. But she was hopelessly stubborn, snubbing the vestige of doubt that had briefly sputtered in her mind, now replaced with trepidation and terror. Emma gawked at him, mouth hanging loosely open as she registered his words. He watched as she fought off a shiver, suddenly nervous and terrified. He was losing her, and painfully fast.

"Seriously, who the fuck are you? How do you know all that? How long have you been stalking me?" she demanded of him, voice rising with her agitation as she shoved the small device back in her pocket.

Killian cautiously grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him as he brazenly invaded her personal space. He was a man driven mad with determination, willing to go to any lengths to get her to listen to him, and he would stop at nothing until she remembered.

"You told me once that you have a gift. Use your talent – look me in the eye and you'll see that I am not lying to you."

And bless the gods, she did. Skepticism plainly washed over her face as she met his passionate gaze, her eyes searching and doubtful. He saw something flash behind her eyes then, a hint of confusion marring her features as she seemed to dimly recall something vaguely familiar, and for en ephemeral moment, Killian could swear that recognition flickered on her face before she chased it away with incredulity.

"You're insane." She wretched herself free from his grasp and took a few cautious steps away from him.

"Only for you, love," he smiled darkly as he reached into his coat and procured a smile vial. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her hand, delicately placing the potion in her palm, closing his fingers around hers as he forced her to hold it. "Please, just… just take this. Drink it. Drink it and it'll restore your memory and you'll realize that everything I've told you is true. You know me, Emma. You feel it, don't you? There's something off about your life, something that just doesn't feel quite right, something missing."

"I… I can't," her voice was soft and uncertain as she stared at their joined hands, the act somehow distantly familiar and comforting to her. She pulled away from him, fingers tightly wrapped around the small vial, clutching it so fiercely he feared it would shatter, and with it, destroy his last hope at bringing her back to him. "This is crazy – you're crazy. The cops'll be here any minute."

"You have to trust me, Emma. Please, I beg of you, if there's any small part of you that believes what I'm telling you, drink this and you'll remember. Remember everything. Remember me. You know me, and I can prove it to you."

She narrowed his eyes at him. "How?"

"The boy's father – Neal – he used to live here, in an apartment not too far from yours. It's where I've been staying while I've searched for you."

"N-Neal? Neal?!" she almost shrieked his name. "Is this some sort of twisted fucking joke? It's not funny."

"I would not deceive you, Emma. Here, I have his address. Go there. Go to his place and you'll find the answers you seek. Drink the potion and see the truth. You have to believe me, love, you have to come back to me." And damn it all, his voice finally faltered, breaking as he stumbled over those last few words, wavering with turbulent, desperate emotion.

Her eyes moved to stare behind him, relief flooding her face, and he felt his heart drop as the sound of heavy footfalls resonating behind him.

He failed.

He couldn't get her to remember, couldn't bring her to realize the truth in his words. All he could hope for was that the seed of doubt had been planted, sowing itself in her mind until her curiosity got the better of her, leading her to drink the potion.

A gruff voice sounded from behind him as he felt a strong pair of hands roughly grasp his arms, yanking them back as the man tore him away from her, from his Swan, from the woman who meant everything to him. He wanted to scream and fight and weep because she couldn't remember him.

"Emma, please, I've never asked anything of you, never expected anything of you – just this once, I beg you to do as I ask. You have to believe. You know me. You just can't remember," his voice was defeated and exhausted, trembling as he felt cool metal slice into his skin as something wrapped around his wrists with a solid 'click'.

The man behind Killian spoke, his words foggy and disoriented in the pirate's ears, and he focused all his attention on the intolerably obstinate woman in front of him. She nodded her head lightly, and he could only pray that it was meant for him.


Well that certainly hadn't gone as expected. Though, truthfully, Killian wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting. That True Love's kiss would magically break her free from the curse's hold? That she would reciprocate the kiss and leap into his arms, begging for him to whisk her away and take her back to the Enchanted Forest?

Nothing in his life had ever been easy, and this certainly was no exception.

Sighing heavily with the admission of defeat, his shoulders slumped with fatigue as he collapsed on the bed, head pounding painfully, buzzing with frustration, mocking him with his failure.

All he could do was wait – wait and hope that his Swan would believe, that she would trust him, and drink from the vial. Just wait... wait here in this jail cell, in quiet contemplation.

Killian was nothing if not a patient man.