I don't know whether to blame my illness or just writer's block for this clusterfuck of a shitstorm of a chapter 'cause it's taken me damn-near forever to write this. I don't even know.
There's also the slight issue that I'm studying abroad in Greece, so my real life is infinitely more interesting than anything fictional I can currently come up with.
Sorry, guys.
vii. no
"So."
Hook's meandering thoughts of a feather bed were interrupted as he slowly turned to look at Snow, who'd slowed to match his stride and was currently giving him a painfully bright smile. He glanced back up at the trail at the rest of the group that'd set off from Aurora's castle to the Jolly Roger.
"Yes?" he urged, cocking an eyebrow.
She cleared her throat. "How, uh, are you feeling?"
He cringed at how awkward this conversation was even after two words. He wanted Emma's parents to warm up to him, but if this was the price he had to pay, he was going to need more rum. "You and your husband seem to have found an inexplicable fascination with my well-being."
Snow sighed, and her smile dimmed to something a little more believable. "It's called worry, Killian. You're gonna have to get used to it."
If he had to continue such constant interaction with Snow White and Prince Charming, he was certainly going to have to get used to a lot of things.
"Oh, I'm rather accustomed to it," Hook said, nodding. "Usually, it's worry about me rather than worry for me."
"I guess it's time for a change then, huh?" The bright smile returned, but he supposed this was significantly more genuine than the first. He wasn't entirely sure which one was better. "So are you okay?"
He licked his lips and scratched the back of his ear. "I'm well, thank you."
Snow hummed, nodding contemplatively. Her knowing attitude was another thing he wasn't sure he liked or disliked. "Really? No anxiety or stress?"
"Well, of course there're anxiety and stress," he answered, moving on to scratch his eyebrow. "However, it's nothing out of the ordinary."
"I'd say being suddenly and violently reunited with your shadow would warrant more anxiety and stress than normal," she pointed out.
"I've been separated with other important appendages, princess," Hook said, brandishing his hook with a small smile. "I'm quite well."
Snow cleared her throat, smirking. All right, that was something Hook disliked. "Emma might have the uncanny ability to tell when people are lying, but I'm not so bad at it myself, you know?"
Hook, to his credit, managed to maintain his expression and continue walking. He'd heard of the method of boiling frogs—put one in a pot with cool water and then slowly increase the fire instead of punting it straight into a roiling boil. He felt that metaphor should be accurate, but he still felt seared. There is no amount of time spent with the Charmings that would easily accustom people to them. Either one must force himself to acclimate or be steamrolled.
"Well, I suppose you need to brush up on your skills, princess, because I am not lying. I am all right," Hook said.
"You are not all right," Snow said flatly, setting her hand on his shoulder and forcing him to a stop. "'All right' may be a Storybrooke colloquialism, but it's pretty straightforward, Killian. All is not right with you."
"I've got my shadow back, don't I?" He shrugged out of her grip as respectfully as he could. "All is right and as it was, princess. Thank you."
He nodded at her and continued trekking after the others even as Snow continued to stand where they'd stopped. He heard her sigh and he could even almost hear her shaking her head. And then she chuckled, and Hook's lips thinned into a straight lined-grimace as he paused again.
"You're damn-good at that," she said, loud enough for him to hear, but still out of earshot of the others, who were significantly further away now.
"At what?"
"At not telling the truth without ever having to lie," she said, casually walking up to him. "You say all is right—as in the norm has been re-established. I know. You say you're well—as in well off."
"Please," he deadpanned, "keep telling me what I mean."
"You need to rest, Killian," Snow said, tone saturated with motherly authority. "I know Charming already talked to you, and—"
"And so you and he must already know that I'm a grown man who's lived a very long three hundred years, princess," he interrupted her as gently as he could. The title of respect was as much a form of address as it was a reminder that he should hold his temper. "If you're trying to dissuade me from our mission—"
"I'm not," she said earnestly, reaching out to hold his arm. "I'm really not."
Hook eyed her serious expression and then the hand on his arm. Before he could say anything about it, she squeezed.
"I'm saying it because I'm worried about you," she said. "Plain and simple. You look worn and tired, and everyone can see it. Emma's constantly looking back here—not just because she's attracted to you, you know."
If he was any less of a pirate captain, he would have blushed. But because of the seriousness of Snow's tone and expression and his own frustration with the circumstances, he suppressed the pleased smile and only glanced up at the trail.
"I'm saying it because I want you to realize how hard you seem to be pushing yourself or even how much of a toll it's taking, having your shadow back," Snow continued. "Hell, my best bet is that it's a combination of a lot of things."
He carefully pulled his arm out of her grip and continued walking.
"I'm sure having a part of yourself suddenly shoved back must be jarring."
Hook snorted. "It's more like having a part of yourself suddenly shoved back into a space that's been somewhat filled by a patchwork job for such a long time that you'd almost forgotten what you'd been missing."
Snow took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I guess I understand how you feel—somewhat."
Hook cocked an eyebrow. "Had you lost your shadow as well?"
Snow winced. "I lost my baby, forgot I had one, and then found my grown daughter."
And then the world shook, the air rippling around them with an energy that made their skin crawl, and their conversation was postponed. He grabbed Snow and lodged his hook into a tree to keep them from toppling over, but just as soon as it started, the quake ceased.
"What the hell was that?!" they heard Emma bark.
"What is that?!" Aurora shrieked.
Hook and Snow picked their way through the underbrush, wary of aftershocks.
"What happened?" Snow asked, immediately checking Emma over for any injuries.
"That is what happened," Regina said darkly, pointing down at the ground a few meters away.
It was a cube-like metal contraption with two slots at the top and a lever on the side. Hook distinctly remembered Snow telling him what it was when she caught him frowning at it back in Storybrooke, but he could no longer remember the name.
"A toaster?" Snow muttered under her breath as she bent down and picked it up.
"Slipping through the cracks indeed," Regina said, seeing Aurora, leaning against a tree and pointing at something a ways off the trail. Hook followed the line of her arm, his eyebrow rose.
Bright, shiny, and apple-green, an automobile sat on the forest floor, a tree seemingly growing out from its middle.
"What is that?" Aurora asked, eyes wide.
Hook cleared his throat. "Well, I can tell you with a great amount of certainty that it's not a flower vase."
Emma shot him a look, but he didn't miss the twitch at the corner of her lips.
"We are running out of time," Regina said, not even a smidge amused. "Next thing you know, we're gonna turn to the left and see half of Storybrooke wedged into the forest."
"What would happen if the two worlds combined?" Aurora asked, brows furrowed as she pulled her cloak closer around herself.
Regina rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are you still half-asleep or something? Imagine trying to squish two people—two bodies—into one entity. What do you think is gonna happen?"
"We need to hurry," Emma said, hoping to stop whatever tirade Regina had building up. "Gold said it wouldn't take long to get to his castle, so they must already be there by now. We need to be ready to go by the time they meet us so we can haul ass out of there and close that wormhole."
"How sure are you your plan's gonna work, pirate?" Regina asked, eyes narrowed and lip curled into the beginnings of a sneer.
"As sure as your future placement in hell, love."
Snow smacked the back of his head.
Henry slowly twirled the magical artifact between his hands, the shaft smooth and cold. The pearly green sheen glimmered in the sunlight but also with the effervescent magic that made the mermaid's trident hum. He frowned down at it and then blinked up at the Dark One. Hook stifled a chuckle and glanced at Emma, whose arms were folded across her chest, watching and waiting where they all stood at the railing of the Jolly Roger. Henry and the Dark One sat in the dinghy they'd lowered in order to do their business with the trident.
"So I just…stir the water?" Henry asked, his tone a cautious mix of incredulity and hope.
"Indeed," Rumplestiltskin said, his pleasant demeanor unsettling Hook.
Then again, everything about the Dark One unsettled Hook. Even if the man saved the entire buggering universe and humbly declined the role of its Supreme Emperor, Hook would forever look at Rumplestiltskin out of the suspicious corner of his eye.
Neal squeezed the railing, twisting his hands along the wood. "Remind me again why he's gotta be the one to risk his neck with portals again," he asked through his teeth. The poor soul never had a good experience with a portal.
"Be nice to her," Hook chided, motioning at Neal's hand before stroking the railing.
"Because Henry's the one with the strongest faith than anyone else on this boat," Charming said.
Hook winced. "Ship."
Snow laughed, and Hook's eyebrow rose. They really were warming up to him.
"You," Regina snapped, pointing at Neal. "Shut up. And you." Her index finger swiveled onto Hook. "It's railing." And then she promptly turned back to fidgeting with her coat as she stared down at Henry, as if she could keep her son in a shield as long as she had her eyes fixed on him.
"Like stew, Master Mills," Hook said.
Still looking as skeptical as ever, Henry carefully shifted closer to the side of the dinghy. The boy dipped the trident, with its broken middle prong, into the gently swaying ocean and tentatively stirred. The water swirled and sparkled, but it wasn't the glorious reaction they were all expecting.
"With some feeling, mate!" Hook called down from where the rest of them stood at the railing, peering down at the boy and his grandfather. "You've got to believe in the trident!"
Henry glanced up at him, teeth worrying his lower lip, and Hook nodded encouragingly.
"Think of Storybrooke," Hook said. "Think of your strongest, most vivid memories of the town so it'll anchor the magic."
"Think of your bedroom, your dining room, your school," the Dark One said. "Close your eyes and try to imagine everything right in front of you—so real you can almost reach out and touch it."
Henry took a deep breath, nodded, and turned back to the trident, still dipped in the water. And then he began to stir wider, deeper circles, and the magic swirled and rippled, resonating through the water in rhythmic pulses—the heartbeats of the ocean.
"It's working!" Regina cried.
"Raise them up!" Emma barked.
Hook and Neal hauled up the dinghy, and Henry and the Dark One jumped back onto the ship just as the portal began to form, a whirlpool of magical water.
They all scrambled to their posts, securing ropes and hanging onto the railing as Hook steered them into the portal.
"Henry!" he called over the rush of wind and water.
The boy loped over to the wheel, and Hook motioned for him to take his place. "Hold it tight and strong," Hook ordered, planting a steady hand on Henry's shoulder as the ship began its spiraling descent, "and think of Storybrooke. Vivid memories." He raised his voice and called out to the rest of their makeshift crew. "All of you! Thoughts of Storybrooke only! I don't care if you all start bloody crying! You put me in charge of transportation, and this is what is required of you to do! Focus as much of your existences on Storybrooke! If we don't emerge in familiar harbors, ladies and gents, we may as well drop anchor and hunker down for the deterioration of our home worlds."
"A rousing speech, Captain," Neal said blandly.
"Vivid memories, Baelfire!" Hook nearly shrieked.
And so the Jolly Roger descended into the portal, clinging for dear life and thinking the strongest thoughts of Storybrooke as they could all possibly muster.
