Chapter 1

She awoke in water, lungs on fire and purple splotches in her vision. Without thinking, her body relied on instinct and swam upward, closer to sunshine. Her legs kicked harder and harder the worse her lungs ached. She broke the surface and choked on leftover sea water.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her upwards, over wood panel and coils of rope. "Hey, let go of me!" Her foot made contact with something and elicited a "PLEASE STOP I AM HELPING."

Blinking away salty drops that burned her eyes, she realized that it was an elderly man she had kicked in the face. An elderly man holding a big, gangly -

"What is that?!" yelled Emma, backing away as far as she could on the tiny boat. "WHAT IS THAT?" She pointed at the wooden puppet, except . . . except it moved.

The old man frowned and looked down at the monster. "Please do not be rude. This is my boy, Pinocchio."

The noise that tore out of her throat was inhuman. "Pinocchio?"

The wooden boy clutched the man's shirt and whispered, "She doesn't like me. No one does."

His wooden face was so devastating that Emma cleared her throat and added, "Sorry, kid. It's just that . . . I've never seen a, um-where I come from, magic doesn't exist."

The old man nodded though his expression remained angry. "We understand. But I believe it would be best to part ways. We are almost to shore."

They did not speak for the rest of the way, though Emma had a million questions. How had she gotten here? And what was here, exactly? As much as she wanted to believe it was a nightmare, the boat left her fingers splintered, the cold water numbed her skin-everything felt incredibly real. Including the wooden boy. Not a monster, but a boy who looked at her curiously every few minutes.

When they reached shore and the old man-Gepetto, she had learned-climbed out to secure them to the docks, Emma smiled at Pinnochio. Said, "Maybe I'll see you around." She rummaged through her pockets and found an old keychain she gave to him. He took it and their fingers touched, and she froze. The wood of his fingers was warm.

Thanking Gepetto and Pinocchio proved unnecessary because Gepetto pressed his hands to his chest and silenced her, saying, "Remember us one day for we will remember you. May you find your home, Miss Swan."

With little but the dirt on her hands, she trekked her way through the docks trying not to react to the sight of creatures. Several fishermen carried cages of sea creatures she had never seen. Lobster-looking things with horse eyes and fins. Fish with limbs that appeared to be complaining about the underwater economy. She had no idea where she was or where she was going, but she knew exactly the type of people to search for. The kind she shouldn't go near.

Which didn't prove difficult. Minutes through the docks and along the forest, the ocean glittering with sunlight to her left, was a village bustling with its daily activities. Including a drunkard without any hair on his scalp but a beard down to his knees. Considering his fetal position on the ground, she knew the bar must be closeby. The stench of alcohol and body sweat reached her when someone opened a door in a dark building.

Inside, she paused. Examined the tables all the way in the back before resolving on one, it headed by a man with long curly hair and a rather large jewel stabbed through his left earlobe. Then she stopped a waitress and asked, "Hey, that man over there, is he important? Can he get me to where I need to go?"

The waitress was a young girl who grew scared at her words. "That there is Captain Blackbeard. He . . . he does anything he likes."

Emma thanked her and stepped forward, only to be stopped by a man with a gold hop through his ear. She yanked her arm back. "You want to keep that hand? Don't touch me."

"Sorry," he said, "Just thought I could help you. You need to get somewhere and I've got exactly what you need."

She eyed him, testing her superpower. "Including travel between worlds?"

"Of course," he said. "But perhaps we should carry this outside where strangers may not take advantage of this information."

Emma followed him outside, watching his hands for any quick grab they made for a weapon. They made none - until the door closed behind Emma and he swung around, hand at her neck. She shot her palm at his face and heard a resounding crack.

He yelled in pain and let go enough for her to kick him away. He was quick, though, and grabbed her from behind.

A voice called out, "Unhand her or you answer to His Majesty's orders."

Emma Swan had witnessed several strange creatures and customs, but the sight that most shocked her was of him. He took in her tight jeans, see-through blouse, leather jacket, and he blushed. Blushed. It was so cute she paid for her distraction.

The man pressed a blade across her throat, holding her tight against his chest. So she stomped on her attacker's foot and struck her elbow against the man's face, then watched him collapse onto the ground. She brushed away the blood on her jacket.

"You were saying?" said Emma, trying not to stare at him.

The man lowered his sword and bowed. "I am honored to make your acquaintance. I go by Killian Jones." He smiled expectantly.

"Oh right. I'm Emma Swan." She eyed him, unwilling to trust anyone so soon after that miscreant had jostled her around. No matter how attractive they were.

Her attempted rescuer wore a navy coat and beige trousers, a satchel draped across his chest. "I am an officer of His Majesty King Gregory's navy. You need not fear me. I may be of whatever assistance you require."

"Okay, Killian," she said, tasting that old fashioned name. "But first, are you going to arrest this guy or what?" She pointed at the unconscious man by her feet.

Killian did just that. In her mind, she had imagined more officers and a jail cell. What she witnessed only made her laugh - watching Killian Jones tie up the unconscious man to a wooden post in a plaza shone of the Wild West. He explained that everyone would recognize his face and remember him as a criminal. It was a small town and they all probably knew him.

As he finished up, she took off her jacket. There was still blood on it. Her favorite jacket. But scratching hurt her cuticle. So she used her Swiss army knife as carefully as she could.

"Your weapon," began Killian, "is most interesting. Quite delicate."

"In my land, where I come from, this is of the utmost importance to anyone's life. It has multiple uses. See?"

He smiled. Those eyes. "You are most certainly not from this realm, Emma. I'm assuming that is what you seek - a way to travel back to your world?"

"You would be right." She shook herself. You couldn't tell how trustworthy someone was by their eyes.

"How exactly did you reach the Enchanted Forest?" he asked.

She shrugged. Tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at the ground. "I have no idea. One minute I was flagging down a cab and in the next, I was drowning in the middle of the ocean."

"Drowning? A . . . cab?"

His confusion appeared genuine. Superpower remained steady.

"Do you know how I can get back to my 'realm?'" she asked. "I don't plan on staying here very long."

He grinned boyishly. "I don't know how to help you, but I am most certainly willing to try."

Her superpower didn't shake with red flags.

"Thanks," she mumbled. She put her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. "So. How about a drink?"