She isn't one to back down from a fight, but Emma knows the feeling of the tide turning against her well enough to recognize the choice to drown or get out of the undertow.

Facing down the Black Fairy after getting hit so hard by a giant spider that she's still seeing double – when her only ally here is someone who tried to murder her and banished her True Love to another realm- seems like something of a poor decision. And continuing on when said ally collapses into little more than a pile of robes beside her, while the Black Fairy monologues unceasingly about her overcomplicated plan to take over Storybrooke, is something Emma Swan simply does not have time for at the moment. A strategic retreat is definitely in order.

She pulls a tiny bottle out of her pocket, eyeing the glittery contents dubiously. Belle had pressed it into her hand almost as soon as she'd arrived at the Sorcerer's mansion, disguising the movement with an awkward hug.

"If you can't get back, use this," she'd breathed, closing Emma's fingers around the bottle. "Throw the powder and think of home."

She'd stepped back almost immediately, her attention going to her son before Emma could so much as ask what the hell is in the bottle. It goes against her better judgement to use something she doesn't understand at all, but Killian trusted- trusts- Belle, and in all honesty, she doesn't have another plan right now.

Yanking out the stopper, she leans down to grab Gideon's arm, tossing the powder over the pair of them. "I don't think either of us is up for clicking our heels," she mutters, "but I hear there's no place like home."

Home. I want to go home.

Her thoughts spiral out, conjuring up images of meals at Granny's, her father shuffling papers around at the station, her mother helping her dress for a date, Henry grinning over the edge of his storybook, drives around town in her bug, nights at the house with Killian…

Killian.

His face sticks in her mind's eye, and she feels the moment the magic takes hold.

I've never known you to fail.

Don't you know, Emma? It's you.

I'm a fan of every part of you.

Emma Swan, will you marry me?

I would never leave you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

The air shifts around her. The world rearranges. The fabric of the universe flutters ever so slightly.

Emma opens her eyes for the briefest moment before her legs buckle underneath her, taking in a sky spattered with stars, and mutters a curse under her breath as she slips out of consciousness.

She's seen those stars before.

"Wake up." Something thumps against her leg, and Emma groans. "What, can the Savior not handle a little realm-jumping?"

"You're welcome," Emma mumbles, sitting up as she opens her eyes. Looking around, she takes in the constellations in the sky above them, the jagged line of jungle trees along the beach, and the all-too-familiar rock formation a little ways down the coast. She groans again.

Gideon stomps a few feet away, crossing his arms and glaring over at her. "What am I supposed to be thanking you for?" he sneers. "I seem to recall a deal to kill the Black Fairy, not to go on a tour of the realms."

"Yeah, well, your grand plan didn't work out so well." She gets to her feet, brushing sand off of her clothes. "Granny Dearest knocked you right out, and I thought you wouldn't want to wake up wherever she kept you. So again, you're welcome."

Gideon huffs, clearly irritated. "And how exactly did you get us here, wherever here is?"

"This." Emma pulls the tiny bottle out of her pocket again, waving it at him. "Gift from your mother. Some kind of…magical travel powder."

"And she gave it to you?"

"Wonder why she wouldn't trust you with something like this," Emma says sarcastically. Gideon doesn't respond, and Emma takes his silence as a personal victory. "But I don't think she really understood it, because it didn't do what it was supposed to."

He summons the bottle out of her hand, ignoring her halfhearted protest, and eyes the shimmering film still clinging to the inside of the glass. "This should have taken us wherever your heart desired."

She frowns. "Then how did we end up in Neverland?"

For a long moment, the only sound is the quiet breaking of the waves behind them, and the rustle of the breeze through the jungle.

"Neverland?" he hisses finally, pocketing the bottle and stalking over to her. "You brought us to Neverland?"

"Look, pal, it's not like I want to be here, either," she snaps, standing her ground as he advances. "My last visit wasn't exactly a vacation."

"Then why are we here?" he asks, spitting out his words through gritted teeth.

"Belle said to think of home, I thought of home. I don't know why-" she begins, and he cuts her off.

"What did you think of?"

She rolls her eyes. "Storybrooke. You know, my family, the people that-"

"Hook?" he sneers, and she restrains herself from decking him with extreme difficulty. "You weak, pathetic-"

He stops abruptly, his face losing color, and Emma stares as his hand fades from view.

"What the hell," she breathes.

"It's- her," he manages. "We're not out of reach of her magic, she can-"

He vanishes.

"Okay. Okay." Emma looks at the place where Gideon had faded from sight, knotting her fingers in her hair as she contemplates the now-empty beach. "Shit."

Eyeing the tree line warily, she mentally reviews what she can remember about the layout of the island, which- after several years and several realms- is much less detailed than she'd like. A loud whoop echoes through the jungle somewhere to her left, and she shakes herself. She needs a weapon, and a place to think, and hopefully for everyone here to leave her alone. Taking a deep breath, she plunges into the trees.

She gets lucky with the weapon.

As soon as she enters the jungle, she picks up a heavy stick, not wanting to risk getting caught without a way to defend herself before she finds something sharp. Making her way down a narrow path, she catches sight of a blade stuck deep in a tree, shimmering slightly in the dim light. With her magic, it's the work of a moment to free it; she tries not to think about the fact that the other marks on the tree appear to be fairly new.

It's a stroke of luck, and she'll take it.

Less lucky is the fact that she's barely been walking for another ten minutes after that when she stumbles upon someone else.

He doesn't notice her quiet approach, bent over something on the ground, and she'd try to sneak away to take another path but she recognizes this place. It was one of their many camps, and this time the familiarity is comforting- if she can find her way back to the cave where Neal had hidden out as a child, she might be able to come up with a plan without needing to watch her back every second. She has to go this way.

Edging closer to the man, she eases her way over until she's only a few feet behind him.

"Don't move," Emma says quietly, her sword coming to rest under the edge of the man's jaw. He straightens up, dropping the coconut in his hands, but otherwise remains obediently still. "Good," she says. "Now turn around, slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them."

He turns, hands raised in surrender. "What's a lass like you doing in a realm like this?"

"Funny," she says, voice icy as she tilts the blade closer to his throat. "Who are you?"

"Captain Blackbeard, at your service," he grits out, offering a half-bow in her direction.

"Of course you are." She takes in the red coat, the long hair, and the hat, and finds herself choking down a joke about waxed perms that probably wouldn't land with this particular audience. "And how long have you been here?"

"In this spot? Probably an hour," he says, smirking, and she rolls her eyes.

"In this realm. You look a bit old for Neverland."

"Now, that's just poor manners," he says, with an exaggerated pout. Emma presses the sword a bit closer. "No need for that, no need for that! We've been here for about three days."

"We?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. "Who else is here?"

He tuts. "Not going to introduce yourself, then? Not that I need to ask who you are," he grunts, giving her a lascivious once-over that earns him a nick on the jaw.

"Oh?" She makes the word sound dangerous, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "And why is that?"

The pirate spits to one side. "A woman in Neverland, swinging a sword around and wearing a shell around her neck?" He nods to it and Emma brings her free hand to the shell, fingers brushing Killian's ring where it hangs on another chain beside it. "You must be that bloody Swan woman Hook was going on about."

Time seems to slow, and there's a roaring in her ears as she stares at him. "What?"

"Emma, isn't it?" he says mockingly, grinning over at her, and she redoubles her grip on her sword as she takes a step closer. "Always whispering into that shell, like I couldn't hear him. Embarrassing, that is. Not becoming of a pirate at all."

"Is he here?" she snarls, keeping one hand wrapped tightly around the shell. "Did you bring him here?"

"Did I bring him?" Blackbeard snorts. "He brought me here, Miss Swan. Traded me the location of the Jolly Roger for a magic bean. Swore up and down that it would be waiting for us on the other side, and we washed up here."

"Where is he?" she hisses.

The pirate shrugs theatrically, keeping his hands in the air. "We, ah, parted ways after a run-in with the Lost Boys. Nasty bunch. Haven't seen him since yesterday."

Emma watches him carefully, but nothing he says pings her inner lie-detector, which means-

Which means-

Dread twists in her stomach, and she brings the shell to her lips. He hasn't tried to get a message to her since yesterday. If the Lost Boys had attacked him, there was no telling where he might go- he must have hiding places she's never seen, places they hadn't visited the last time they were here.

Or he could be-

"Killian?" she says into the shell, keeping her sword at the ready. There's no response, and she lets the shell drop, glaring over at Blackbeard. "You will take this path down to the beach. Don't follow me, don't bother me, and consider yourself lucky. If he's hurt, I'm going after the Lost Boys, but then- I'll come after you."

He grins lazily. "I can see why he likes you. Always preferred the ladies with spirit, myself."

"Go," she snaps, and he does, vanishing into the trees.

"Emma?"

She jumps, her heart nearly missing a beat at the tinny sound of Killian's voice coming from the shell. "Killian?"

"Emma," he says, sounding exhausted, "I don't know if you can hear me, love, but perhaps it's for the best. I've done something rather stupid."

"Killian," she tries again, her lips almost pressed against the shell. "Killian, I'm here, I'm here in Neverland."

"I've managed to end up in Neverland again," he continues. "It's not all bad, though. There are a few good memories from last time around. Well. One good memory." He pauses, and for a moment she's afraid he'll stop speaking again. "I'm going to get back to you, Emma, I swear it. I love you."

"I love you," she whispers. The shell is silent.

Letting the shell drop back against her shirt, she rubs her face with her free hand. One good memory. A half-smile curves across her lips, and she slides her sword into the makeshift pack she's fashioned out of her heavy winter coat. One good memory.

She knows exactly where to go.

He's not here.

He's not here, and Emma knows it's silly to be upset, that he's probably set up camp somewhere safer, somewhere with better access to water, somewhere that's easier to defend against the remnants of the Lost Boys. That's sensible, after all; it's what she should be doing, instead of standing around feeling bereft.

She brushes her fingers across her lips, remembering the searing heat of Killian's mouth on hers, the way the lapels of his jacket felt against her hands as she'd pulled him closer, the dazed look on his face when they'd parted.

God, she misses him.

She'd been so sure, after hearing his voice through the shell. She'd managed to find her way back here, and it had been easy, almost like muscle memory bringing her to this spot. Almost like going home.

But he's not here. He's not here, and she needs to find somewhere to go rest. Once she sleeps off the rest of her realm-jumping headache, she can start again, try to get the shell working on her end so that they can communicate, and then-

"Emma?"

The voice behind her is quiet, but it drowns out every other sound in the jungle, reverberating in her ears as she halts in her tracks. She turns around slowly, her heart in her throat, and he's standing there, just across the clearing, looking tired and dirty and absolutely, completely real.

"Killian," she breathes, and she's moving before she finishes saying his name, closing the distance between them in a few swift strides. His arms are around her and her face is buried in his neck and he's here, he's here, filling every one of her senses, and she's kissing every bit of him she can reach.

"I'm so sorry, Emma, I didn't mean to leave you, I tried to get a message to you-" He pulls her closer, pressing kisses into her hair, the thud of his heartbeat loud in her ears.

"I heard you," she says, shifting back just enough to show him the shell hanging around her neck. "I couldn't get through to you, Gideon did something to it to keep it from working, but he couldn't stop me from hearing you." She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, looking at him closely. "The Lost Boys, did they hurt you? I was so-"

"A few bruises, but they were nothing I couldn't handle. How do you know about that?"

She can't help a small smirk, even as she leans closer to him, breathing him in. "Ran into Blackbeard. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"How did you get here?" he asks, voice slightly muffled as his lips press against her neck, against the line of her jaw, against her cheek, like he can't fathom breathing air that hasn't touched her skin. "Ariel said the walls around your realm were closed, that she couldn't get through and you couldn't get out-"

"Gideon trapped us, but we went to the Sorcerer's mansion, and Rumpelstiltskin found a portal to the Black Fairy's realm- she's his mother- and-"

"What?" His head snaps up, eyes wide.

"I couldn't beat her, she was too strong, but Belle gave me some kind of fairy dust, she told me it would bring me home when all else failed, so I," she hesitates for a moment, shrugging. "I…well. I used it."

"And it brought you here?" He raises an eyebrow at her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

"It brought me to you," she says, leaning into his touch as he sweeps his thumb across her skin. "Don't you know, Killian?" Her smile widens, and she rolls up on her toes, pressing her forehead to his. "You are my home."

Something shifts in his eyes, and before she can say anything else he's bringing his mouth to hers, lifting her up off the ground with the arm still wrapped tight around her waist, his hook cool against her spine as it sneaks beneath the hem of her shirt. His lips are warm, insistent, sending heat racing through her body, and she tangles her hands in his hair, sinking into him, the rest of the world be damned.

When they finally resurface, he chuckles a little. "Something about this place, eh, Swan?"

"Shut up," she says with a grin, swatting his arm playfully. They stand in silence for a moment, catching their breath, arms tight around each other.

"I want to show you something," he says at last, reluctantly taking a step away from her. She wraps her hand around his, entwining their fingers, and he leads the way through the clearing. "When I came back here, I realized it looked a bit different, but I couldn't see why. Until I found this." They move onto a small path leading out of the clearing, and Emma comes to an abrupt halt.

"Is that what I think it is?" She tilts her head back, staring up through the tree canopy.

"Aye, love. It's a beanstalk. And what's more," he says, grinning down at her, "it's growing out of the place where you kissed me."

Emma stares at him, eyes wide as an incredulous giggle bursts out of her. "Are you telling me that instead of a sapling…we made True Love's beanstalk?"

"So it would appear," he says, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. "Never do anything small, do we?"

"Literally," she says dryly. "True Love's beanstalk. Huh." Shaking her head, she squeezes his hand. "Seems appropriate, really."

"Indeed." He steps forward, tapping the thick base of the beanstalk with his hook. "And since this one does not appear to have the restrictions of the last beanstalk we faced- what do you say?"

Emma smirks over at him, letting go of his hand and swinging herself up onto the enormous vine. "Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

He pulls himself up beside her. "I would despair if you did."