"You want me to what?"
Emma lounged over the damp sand, her hands planted behind her back, fingers groveling through the white powder, and legs spread in a wide V. Rumpelstiltskin's imposing shadow loomed over her, the angle of the sun behind his head making it stretch to impossible lengths. She shielded her eyes and stared up at him in stark confusion, just in time for him to toss a crooked twig onto the sand between her legs.
"As I requested only a moment prior: I want you to take this little stick-an ordinary, dull stick, mind you-and imagine it to be a bow," he repeated. It was clear his patience was running thin; he never liked to be asked twice about his requests. Emma studied the stick and then inclined her head again.
"Why can't you just wave your hand and summon a bow and some arrows magically?" The man could probably construct a beach house with an indoor pool and their personal DJ if he willed it. Rumpel crouched in front of her and picked up the stick, twirling it between his palms.
"Emma, if you wish to save Henry, there's one detail you must understand: Neverland thrives on imagination. It's about time you exhibited some of that magic." He extended the stick to her in offering.
Experimentally, Emma accepted the stick, picking it up with two fingers and treating it in the manner of something infectious. She twirled it and made mock swinging gestures. She plucked an invisible string. Rumpel tented his fingers under his chin, anticipating the phenomenon of the lowly twig transforming into the marvelous bow via Emma's imagination.
Except for the part where the stick plopped down in the sand.
"It's a stick," Emma commented. Rumpel flung his hands down on his knees and unleashed a mighty cry of frustration. Hook bellowed with laughter, though he never took his eyes from the curve of the hook he was meticulously polishing.
"You have to give the girl credit for forever stating the obvious," he said, his lips crudely split in a toothy grin. "You know what they say: if it looks like a stick, feels like a stick, tastes like a stick, odds are it's a stick."
The pirate lost control of his laughter, lending fuel to his mockery. Emma grumbled and dove for the stick, hurling it at Hook. It whacked him on the side of the head, making him cry out in surprise and pain. His boot plowed the stick through the sand.
"Careful, love. These are delicate goods, meant to be handled with care," he boasted, patting his chest. Rumpel begged to differ, made obvious by his belittling sizing-up of the pirate. He retrieved the stick, once more tossing it down at Emma's feet.
"Would it kill you to try to trust me?" Emma crossed her legs and scooted away from the stick. She was aware of the pressure of Rumpel's gaze upon her face, and she matched it with double the intensity.
"In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not the most trusting person around," she said brusquely. Trust had always been a sensitive issue for her, having been alone since birth and betrayed by Neal after giving him her heart all those years ago. Rumpel's resolve softened slightly. She stiffened when he placed his hand upon her knee.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," he cooed, lightly patting her knee. She twitched her leg, throwing off his hand. "Hence the key word try."
Emma watched him retreat to his previous standing position. Her stomach roared, demanding food. The gratification of food would only come from a bow that did not yet exist.
Resistance waning, Emma picked up the stick once more and held it firmly in her grasp. She closed her eyes and repeated the word bow in her head, willing the stick to change shape. It wasn't a rough, scratchy, brown piece of firewood; now it was a bow, bow, bow. Miraculously, there was movement in her palm. The stick was becoming...looser. Almost wiggling like a cooked piece of spaghetti. And it wasn't prickly with bark anymore. It was silky.
What the hell had she done?
"Hmm...Emma?" Rumpelstiltskin's skeptical voice commanded that she opened her eyes. Well, there wasn't a stick in her hand, but it wasn't her desired result, either. Rumpel pinched the edge of the red bow between his fingers, letting it dangle in the air for all to see. Technically, it was a bow, bow, bow, just the wrong sort. This was a hair bow. "I very much doubt you'll be catching anything with this, lest you intend to attract a rampaging bull."
"It's not my fault you make this magic thing look so easy," she hurled back, grabbing the bow from his fingers.
"Thank you for the compliment," Rumpel said, flashing a bright smile her way. Hook scrunched his nose in disgust.
"Don't feed his ego, Emma," the pirate warned. "Soon his head will be too big for him to tote around." Rumpel gasped and smoothed down his frizzing hair. It had been a couple of days since he last tended to it properly. If looks could kill, Hook would have several daggers protruding from his body already.
"Look who's talking. Hate to break the news to you, dearie, but you're no Johnny Depp. I swear, every time you stumble through a tavern, your first words even before the drink are who wants me?"
Hook bristled. Red hot sparks zinged from those two pairs of eyes, their wits locked in a fearsome battle. Emma decided to give Rumpel a point for the Johnny Depp remark.
"First of all, I do not stumble; I strut. Major difference. Secondly, who in the name of the seven seas is Johnny Depp? A friend of yours?"
Emma snorted, earning a glower from Hook. While the two rivals bickered like children, she returned to concentrating on transforming the hair bow to a real bow. She emptied her mind of all other thoughts, as Rumpelstiltskin taught her to do, and glued an image of a bow to the front of her mind. A bow will help us find food. A bow will help us find Henry. Bow, bow, bow...
The item in her hand was changing again, but she did not dare lose track of that image in her head. It was crucial that she relied on the magic flowing through her veins and kept her focus intact. The silk faded, hardening, becoming wood again. Only it wasn't reverting to the form of a stick. This wood was sleek, rigid, polished. It extended in her hand, growing bigger and heavier with every passing second. There was a dull thrum, almost like a single note of a harp.
Emma opened her eyes and was instantly satisfied with what she saw.
A glorious hunting bow was nestled in her grip, a quiver of arrows resting in the sand by her feet and waiting to be nocked. A warm feeling rippled through her heart as she realized it had worked splendidly.
"So what you're saying is that this Johnny guy runs around pretending to be a pirate, drinking his weight in rum, stealing ships, kissing girls and all?" Hook frowned. "I've done all that and I'm not famous yet! What's this Johnny guy have that I don't?"
Emma stood up with the bow in hand. She wondered how long it would take for the men to notice her accomplishment. The way they argued, their emotions were entirely comsumed and it seemed they were the only two people in the world.
Finally, Emma got so impatient that she tapped Rumpel on the shoulder.
"Yes, yes, Emma, your bow is very pretty, but I have my hands full at the moment," he stated without even glancing over his shoulder. Clearly, he still assumed she was dealing with the hair bow. "That's more than you can say, I'm afraid," he said directly to Hook. The pirate guarded his precious hook, holding it close to his chest.
"I've gotten quite fond of my hook and so have many women. In any case, I can still do this." The hook soared through the air and clouted Rumpel on the ear.
Rumpel cried out in pain and, clutching his throbbing ear, lunged for Hook. However, he was interrupted halfway when an arrow zipped past his nose and sailed into the rushing waves. Rumpel whipped his head around just as Emma lowered the bow to her side.
"You missed," Hook said. Emma's eyelids narrowed a fraction of an inch.
"I wasn't aiming for him," she snapped. There was no sign of mockery radiating from Rumpelstiltskin, only an additional layer of respect for the savior.
"It appears you inherited your mother's natural affinity for the bow." He nodded to the weapon approvingly. Emma still found it hard to believe the bow had once been a measly stick, but she held it proudly.
"Who's hungry?"
...
The tip of the arrow gleamed in the sunlight. Emma huddled low and scanned the fringes of trees for any sign of movement. She readjusted her grip on the bow, trying to become familiar with the way it felt in her hands since she never handled one before. Rumpelstiltskin knelt by her side, his words of wisdom slithering in her ear.
"Remember what I said, dearie: the boar is your prey, you are the predator. Keep quiet on your feet and tread carefully. Corner your prey, if you can. Above all, handle that bow as you would one of your very own limbs. Control it. A hunter is only as good as his skill in wielding his choice of weapon."
Through a clump of bushes to her left, she heard the shuffle of feet. A few of the leaves trembled. There you are, she thought, gradually rising to full height. They had been tracking this boar for the better part of an hour, with Emma loosing a few arrows the first time it eluded them. She used the trunk of a tree for cover when the snout of the boar poked out from behind the bush, followed by the rest of its bristly black body.
Emma licked her lips carefully. A bead of sweat rolled over her brow as she positioned the bow the way Rumpel had instructed. Even now, his hands fell to her shoulders to correct her stance.
"Stand up straight, Emma. You are a proud hunter, not a teenger on the brink of failing gym class," he scolded softly. Irritation alone made her muscles rigid. She kept her eyes trained on the boar that was sniffing the muddy ground. "That's it. Now, pull the arrow back-not too fast! Keep your eyes on the target. Envision that arrow flying through the air and burying itself deep in that boar's belly."
His hand stretched in front of her, encouraging the way she held the bow. She felt his touch on her elbow, guiding it higher than she already held it. His breath tickled her ear, heavy and hot, and she fought not to let his proximity distract her.
"Take a deep breath in..." Emma silently sucked in a breath of air through her nose, her belly flattening. Her fingers ached to release the arrow, but she waited for Rumpel's command. Other times she had sent the arrow flying too soon or too fast and it never hit its mark.
Any second now...
She could practically taste that boar. It better be tastier than chimera.
All of a sudden, the bushes behind them rustled. Whatever was coming through them was large and clumsy. Rumpel frantically ordered in her ear not to let the noise distract her, a fireball already glowing in his hand, but it was too late. Emma made a snap decision and spun around, knocking Rumpel aside and aiming for the bushes, waiting for the creature to show itself. For all she knew, it could be a bear or even Peter Pan-
Or a tipsy pirate with a hook in place of his left hand.
"It's about time I caught up with you two. I am starving," he complained loudly. Emma groaned and Rumpel shushed the both of them, the fireball sizzling out. She whirled back to the boar, but it had noticed their presence. Its back end scampered off into the bushes.
"No!" Emma cursed and quickly let loose an arrow. The head of the arrow sank into the mud where the boar had been sniffling around.
"And there he goes again," Rumpel muttered. A flask materialized into his hand and he tipped it to his mouth. Hook made a low ooh of delight and reached for the flask, only to watch it vanish into thin air. Anger pumped like lava through Emma's veins and, with the bow still in hand, she rounded on Hook. He was lucky if she didn't nock another arrow.
"We told you to stay on the beach," she yelled. She rubbed the sweat off her brow. It was too muggy in Neverland's forests-at this point, she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a plate of Granny's overpriced food. Hook eyed the quiver of arrows warily.
"I got bored," he said, shrugging. "There are only so many times you can blow into a seashell before you come to realize the mermaids aren't answering." Emma rolled her eyes and stomped off in pursuit of the boar...again. At this rate, it would be nightfall before they found food and according to Hook, they did not want to be wandering in these woods at nightfall. "If it's any consolation, you look incredibly sexy wielding that bow!"
Hook's smile died rapidly after Emma vanished from view. He was having no luck with the female population lately. Even Rumpelstiltskin had a girl back home.
The imp in question crossed the short distance to the pirate and roughly shoved him up against a tree. Hook was about to make a smart remark about how he wasn't into this sort of thing before his own hook grazed the skin of his throat.
"I'm going to give you a piece of advice, free of charge. Stay away from Emma," Rumpel hissed. For a man that was at least two inches shorter than Hook's stature, he was amazingly strong. The point of the hook dug a little deeper, the pressure enough to draw a bead of blood.
"Advice? Funny. The fact that you have my own hook pressed to my neck makes me think this is a threat," Hook retorted. He craned his head back to avoid the hook, only to be blocked by the trunk of the tree. "And what concern is it of yours if I bond with Emma?"
Rumpel's teeth flashed. Not a good sign.
"I know the kind of man you are and I know how you think. Just because Emma is emotionally shaken and grieving over Bae does not give you any right to move in on her. Stay away from her."
The words or else were unspoken, but Hook heard them all the same. The hook shed another bead of blood for emphasis and then Rumpel's grip loosened, allowing Hook to slump to his knees on the ground. He wiped the blood from his neck, wincing when it stung.
"What are you, her father? In case you've forgotten, he's out there somewhere." Hook blindly gestured to the forest behind them, the general direction of the beach and the ocean that may or may not have swallowed the rest of their crew.
Rumpel sneered over the sight of Hook sprawled on the ground and then turned his back, venturing after Emma and their dinner. Hook's nails scrabbled over the mud and twigs, his legs wobbling like that funky food called Jell-O when he stood. The imp thought he could command him to keep his distance from Emma, did he? Well, then, he was all the more inclined to savor the forbidden fruit that was Emma Swan.
Hook always loved a challenge.
...
There was a shallow stream of water not too much deeper into the forest. That was where Emma found the boar again, its head bent to lap up the fresh water. Even though she was still seething, she had the sense to keep quiet upon moving closer. She lingered behind at a safe distance and prepared a new arrow.
This time, she would not miss.
Nock the bow...stand tall...keep quiet...pull back slowly...train on the target...breathe in...you are the predator...
I want that boar, I want that boar, I want that boar...
Swiftly, Emma released the arrow. It sailed through the air and embedded itself deep in the boar's side. The boar tossed back its head and let out a shrill cry of agony. It went on a wild rampage, wheeling around and charging straight at Emma. It took her by surprise and she hastily reached for another arrow in defense, all the while knowing in her heart that the boar would be on her in seconds.
Just as the boar thrust its tusks forward in attack, a sapphire aura pulsed around its body, freezing it in place. It could only be magic that had done the trick.
"Perhaps we should get you angrier more often. That seems to be the key to your survival," Rumpel spoke close to her ear. She spun around and discovered that he was alone. He stood erect against a tree, hands softly clapping in what she deemed to be mock congratulations. "Impressive, if I do say so myself."
Emma peered around the thick trunks of the trees, but the forest beyond was oddly dim and quiet.
"Where's Hook?" Hopefully Rumpel didn't hang him from a tree by his ankle for interrupting her hunting lesson or else they would be forced to listen to his woes all night.
"I left him in one piece, I assure you. No missing body parts. With any luck, he's returning to the beach to consult the mermaids."
Moving past her, Rumpel raised his hand and sliced it horizontally through the air. The pulsing blue aura faded from the boar. It gave one last pitiful squeal and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Emma nudged its foot with her boot, but she suspected it was dead.
"Why didn't you do that before?" She received no verbal answer. The truth was plain enough: Rumpel had wanted her to acquire this new skill for more than hunting. Such skills of defense were vital if they wished to stand any chance against Peter Pan. He was training her.
Rumpel knelt to pry the arrow from the body. Emma felt bile rise in her throat and she turned her head away to avoid witnessing the gory tip of the arrow, though she still heard the slick sound of the arrow emerging from the boar's side. She traced a finger along the smooth length of her bow, lost in more troubling thoughts.
"Thank you," she said. She knew he heard, despite how thin her voice sounded to her own ears. Rumpelstiltskin paused after securing a materialized net around the boar. They were to carry it back to the beach if they yearned for food.
"Where is this sudden gratitude coming from? Teaching you how to hunt? You're a natural, same as your mother. In time it would have come to you," he said quietly, concentrating on tying the net closed. Emma shook her head.
"For that...but what I really meant was thank you for what you said to Hook." She sensed the smirk crossing Rumpel's face. A soft exhale came from his nose.
"Ah, so you heard that, hm? I simply wanted to be sure you were not handled improperly." When the boar's remains were packed, Rumpel stood and hoisted the net over his shoulder, ready to drag their winnings back to the beach.
"I've met guys like Hook before. I actually dated a few of them after Neal and I'm pretty sure I can deal with it myself. Guys like Hook are the arrogant, good-looking Las Vegas type-good for a fling, but not for serious commitment." It didn't matter because Hook was not the one on her mind. Her chest tightened, a wave of grief threatening to make her stumble. She was aware of Rumpel observing her closely. "Anyway, I don't think I can ever hand Hook my heart when it's broken already."
Sympathy washed over Rumpel's normally subtle features. He claimed to be familiar with tragedy and the pain of a broken heart, so she had no doubt he knew the feeling. It was surprisingly nice to have someone closeby who could relate to her tangled emotions. He gave her a wistful look.
"It's a rather sad detail to your story. You fell in love with him again." She understood that the person he was talking about was Neal.
"You're wrong," she said, taking him by surprise. "I never stopped."
...
Night was falling fast, the sun melting in the ocean and setting its waters aflame with shades of pink, purple, and blood red. Emma sensed they were all nervous about what might come after the sun was gone. Would Peter Pan seek them out in an attempt to wipe them out early on? Would his shadow swoop down over their heads while they slept? There was no way to tell; they were literally running around in the dark.
Emma tried to take comfort in the light the fire offered along with the cooked meat she was stashing in her empty belly. At least Rumpel proved to be an efficient cook, even though she missed luxuries like salt, pepper, and spices. According to him, food produced by magic usually didn't taste right. Emma had a feeling she would wolf down a buffet of magic-food right then, no matter if it tasted like cardboard. Microwavable food in their world tasted like cardboard all the time.
When the shadows came to life on the beach, only Hook was capable of falling asleep in a ball on the sand. Emma kept her distance both from him and the black forest lining the beach, its depths thriving with darkness.
"I am not sleeping next to him," Emma protested, pointing at Hook. The pirate's head lolled and he snored loud enough to wake the dead. If he didn't quit that obnoxious noise, Emma would end up chucking another stick at his head. Rumpel barely glanced up from where he sat cross-legged in front of the fire, nibbling on a piece of boar meat.
"Neither am I," he replied wryly. He offered her another portion of meat, but she shook her head. She had enough of boar meat for one night. Tomorrow she would be going fishing.
Her mind began to wander. As it had for the past day or so, the result of her straying thoughts was a mental image of Neal's face. Her only solace came from the fact that she was able to tell him she loved him before he dropped into that swirling emerald vortex. There was a possibility that he was doomed to die alone, wherever he landed.
History had a funny way of repeating itself. Of course, in Emma's opinion, history had a sick sense of humor.
"What was...Bae like when he was a kid?" She didn't know where the question came from. Maybe it had been bouncing around her mind for a while and it was just now reaching the surface. It only made her think of Henry. Was he anything like his father had been?
Rumpel had stopped eating. He flung a bone onto the sand and wiped his mouth gingerly with his alligator-skin sleeve. Emma was anticipating his lack of an answer, until he sighed deeply. His brown eyes glazed with a fond memory.
"Bae..." There was such raw longing and pain in his voice that Emma's heart twisted in response. "Bae was my only light at that point of my life. My best memories were when he was always daydreaming, always hopeful...much like little Henry. He was a fantastic storyteller and optimistic to the point of believing he could help me break my curse. And that was when I lost him."
Emma dipped her head in remorse.
"Yeah, Henry definitely has a bit of his father in him. The two of them have a habit of popping up in my backseat when I'm driving my Bug," she added. Rumpel smiled at that.
"Was he...good to you? The time you were with him?" It was awkward for Rumpel to ask such a personal question. He fixated on the fire and she swore there was a slight blush rising to his cheeks.
Emma summoned up her earliest memories of Neal, of the two of them running together, of wishing for Tallahassee, of the night they shared incredible intimacy, ultimately conceiving Henry.
"He was my first love," she admitted. Moreover, Neal was the first and last man to which she dared speak the words I love you. "Up until his betrayal, he treated me with respect and kindness. He took care of me as much as he could while we were running on the streets."
Regret contorted Rumpel's face further. He clasped his hands together and seemed to shrink. For a man of unmatched power and wit, she had never seen him appear so small.
"He was stuck here as a fourteen-year-old boy. Fourteen years old for nearly three hundred years. Then he was stuck on the streets. All because of me," he moaned, submerged in his self-loathing. Emma frowned. She was not the comforting type, but she placed her hand on his shoulder nonetheless.
"People make mistakes. What matters is whether you put in the effort to fix them. You made the mistake of letting him drop into that vortex when he was fourteen. I made the mistake of letting him go a second time."
Except there was a chance that mistake would never be fixed. Granted, Tamara was the one who opened up the portal via a magic bean, but Emma had been the only thing keeping Neal in their world. Studying her hand now, she could almost recall the sudden emptiness of her palm when Neal's hand slipped away.
"That's enough of that," Rumpel announced abruptly, his voice strained. "There's no use dwelling on sore thoughts before sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, when we set out to find Henry."
Emma nodded once and reclined back on the sand, tucking her knees close to her chest. With a flick of Rumpel's hand, woolen blankets draped her body.
"Make sure you sleep near the fire," Rumpel advised. She shivered, silently interpreting his meaning. There weren't even any stars in Neverland's sky, nothing to illuminate the shadows. "You need your rest if you plan to find Henry, Emma. I'll stay awake and keep watch for a while."
She thought sleep would fail to take her, but she was more tired than she thought. Her eyes drifted closed with the images of Neal and Henry still swimming behind her eyelids. Tomorrow would be a long day. That was if they even survived the night.
...
"I'm not sleeping next to either of you," Regina declared as she magically conjured a sleeping bag and silky black pillow.
"Duly noted," Snow murmured. She and Charming stayed a few good feet away from the Evil Queen and prepared their own spot to sleep. It wasn't anywhere near as fancy as Regina's since they planned on cuddling to stay warm, but neither one complained. They weren't thrilled about sleeping so close to the bane of their existence, either.
"I swear, if you two even begin to make up for lost time due to the curse or so much as sleepwalk over me, don't expect me to be responsible for my actions," Regina rambled on. In other words, Snow and Charming would melt faster than the Wicked Witch of the West if they even poked Regina in her sleep.
"Once again, duly noted," Charming said nonchalantly. Regina made a small hmm and settled down atop her sleeping bag. She ferociously beat her pillow until she was comfortable. Then she proceeded to give them her back. It was her form of dismissal.
Snow didn't know how any of them could contemplate sleeping tonight when Emma and Henry were out there somewhere, but her instincts screamed that it was a bad idea to continue treading through Neverland's forests at night. Ever since arriving on the beach, they had tackled the forests as best they could in search of Henry, Emma, or any others. They only stopped here and there to accept water from a trickling stream or to eat berries that were strictly Regina-tested first.
When night began falling, they agreed to stop in a small clearing to rest until morning. With the aloofness of their group so far, taking a break wasn't a bad idea.
Snow allowed Charming to cradle her in his arms, but her brain was too wired to sleep. Worries over Henry and Emma's well-being, coupled with the threat of Peter Pan hanging over their heads, made it impossible. Charming's cheek rested on her head, but she knew he was unable to sleep as well. His hand soothingly rubbed her back and she savored his comfort.
"I can't sleep as long as I know that Emma and Henry are out there," she whispered into his chest. Charming's strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
"Neither can I," he whispered back and kissed the top of her head. Tears threatened to pool under her eyelids while the defenses she upheld all day crumbled at her feet. Never did she admit defeat when it came to her family's safety, but she did have to admit that she was afraid of the challenges that would come.
"Are we doomed to continue losing her?" Sacrificing their daughter before the curse struck was terrible enough. Not a day went by after it broke that Snow did not linger over the fact that she missed every important aspect of her daughter's life. Her first words, her first steps, her first kiss...A mother should be there to protect and raise her daughter, to experience the ups and downs. But here they were, separated again.
"We'll find her, Snow. We'll find her and we'll rescue Henry. I promise," her husband breathed into her raven black hair. A soft kiss pressed to her temple and she gathered the strength to smile up at him. What would she ever do without Charming by her side? He was her true love, her heart, her rock.
"You never give up hope," she said admirably. He returned her warm smile.
"Never. You know why? No matter what tragedy befalls us, I know that we'll face it together. As long as I have my family to consider, I will always have the strength to carry on."
Gently, Charming kissed Snow on the lips, his love for her pouring in waves. Snow eagerly returned the kiss, her arms wrapping around his back and pulling him ever closer. It had been so long since they had a peaceful moment together. Inevitably, the kiss deepened and Snow found herself moaning blissfully.
"Oh, would the two of you get a room?"
A spare pillow soared out of the darkness, tumbling across the ground not far from their heads. Snow giggled into Charming's shirt, amused by Regina's disturbance. It served her right for all the things she had done to them in the past. Listening to them share a kiss wasn't even near the crimes she had committed.
Suddenly, they were startled by the rustle of bushes on the edge of the clearing. Something-or someone-was out there. Snow shot to her feet, alert and armed with her bow. Charming followed suit, wielding a thick branch like it was a javelin. Regina shed her sleeping bag and a bright flame burst into her hand. A multitude of possibilities rushed through Snow's head. What if it was Emma? Henry? Rumpelstiltskin? Peter Pan?
"Well? Stop being a coward and show yourself," Regina demanded.
The bushes rustled louder, followed by the thunder of running feet. Snow raised her bow higher, arrow ready to be fired. The bushes parted and a figure stepped through, slightly outlined by the glow of Regina's fire. It wasn't anyone Snow expected.
"Tamara?"
...
A/N: I want to thank you all for reading thus far. Also, shout-outs to those who reviewed: DragonRose4, GuestRoom, Grace5231973, Lady Avotil, Anon, SwanQueen4055, and Shizuku Tsukishima749. I appreciate all the kind words that everyone has given me. It certainly helps motivate me to write faster. I also hope everyone is enjoying Season 3 of Once so far.