Disclaimer: Do you think I'd be writing fanfiction if I owned them? Unfortunately, I am not in possession of Hook, Emma, Henry, or any other of my pretty, pretty friends. Until then, they're just going to be played around with a li'l bit. Let's hope that Adam Horowitz and Eddie Kitsis n' the rest of the ABC/Disney gang don't kill me if I do drastic things. You never know.

Chapter Nine:
Lies

Laughing means there is happiness

Crying means somebody's blue

Screaming implies someone's been telling lies

Or an apology is overdue

A smile means things turned out alright

Despite an oversight or two


"Davy Jones' Locker," Neal Cassidy answers, "They went to Davy Jones' Locker."


Mary Margaret whips around at the sound of the voice of her daughter's ex, "How do you know that?"

Neal steps into the shop, the door swinging shut behind him. The others in the room all look at him curiously – well, Leroy looks confused, Ruby looks neutral, David looks like he might rip off someone's head, and Gold looks exceedingly surprised.

"I'd like to know that as well," David growls.

Leroy nods, "Thought we were from the Enchanted Forest, not Pirates of the Caribbean."

Neal shakes his head, "No, it's real."

"Then how do you know?"

"You remember how I fell through the portal?" Neal glances over at Gold at this, startling the man slightly, but then his father nods, "It wasn't my first stop. I – I spent some time in Neverland first."

"And...?" Mary Margaret says.

"I knew Hook. We were...uh, friends? At one point, at least."

The air in the room suddenly becomes a lot more difficult to breathe in, and in the back of David's mind he kind of regrets not bringing a camera, because the look on Gold's face as he steps forward to look at his son is priceless. "You were friends," he says, his tone indistinguishable between angry, hurt, worried or surprised. "With the man that caused your mother's death?"

"It was...we weren't entirely...we didn't really part on the best of terms."

Shockingly, Gold moves back a little and mutters something about that probably running in the family.

"Just who are you, anyway?" David finally asks, eying Neal.

Leroy frowns, "Yeah - we already have to deal with Sir James-David-Charming here. What are you, Peter Pan?"

There's no answer from Neal, and his face is impossible to read.

Ruby gasps, "You are, aren't you?"

Once again, Neal says nothing, and the room lapses into silence.

Mary Margaret breaks the silence, "Getting back to the real problem, how is this supposed to help if we have no way of getting there? If Emma – if my daughter – is in the 'Locker', how do you propose we find her?"

Silence starts to become a very normal event for this gathering.

"Some of the beans are almost ready for harvest," Leroy says.

David whirls around, "They shouldn't be ready for months yet -"

"Apparently they like the climate in Storybrooke. We could have some picked by sunset today."

"We'll use them," Mary Margaret says, "We're going to get Emma, and we'll leave tomorrow."

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

The chorus of 'what' sounds out from David and Gold respectively. "Mary Margaret, I want to get her back as much as you do, but we can't just drop everything like that -"

"Regina is still unstable. Is that really the best course of action?"

Mary Margaret stands her ground, "I'm not abandoning my daughter again, no matter what some of you may think on the issue," this is directed towards Neal, "So it's up to you whether you come, but I'm going."

Quiet ensues. Eventually, David reaches out and takes his wife's hand, gripping it firmly. He nods, once, and she nods back, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"I'm coming too, then." Neal says.

"My son –" Gold starts.

"No. Papa, I'm going, okay? I abandoned Emma once. I'm not going to now – at least for Henry."

The Dark One-turned-wealthy pawnbroker sighs. He taps his cane once on the floor. Frowns. Tilts his head. Then, "Well, if the whole troupe is going, I had might as well go too."

There's no answer to this, although they all look at him peculiarly.

He shrugs, "Why the surprise? I have to make sure you don't all get yourselves killed along the way."


Mary Margaret watches from the edge of the docks as those going on the journey stock the ship with supplies. The entire group has become rather large, and even Mary Margaret isn't entirely aware of who all is going at this point. It seems that everyone wants to help Emma somehow.

At the moment, Ruby is carrying about four large boxes full of heavy supplies onto the ship, showing no strain from the task whatsoever, and the Saviour's mother is impressed - even after seeing it before - at her best friend's strength. Although the young woman isn't always at peace with her wolf side, she must admit that there have to be added benefits of such a so-called 'curse'.

Whale follows her on-board carrying a black duffel bag and being eyed by David, who is directing the work. Her husband wasn't particularly pleased about including the doctor in the party, but he had grudgingly agreed that they would need someone knowledgeable in medicine and first aid. Besides, Ruby had given David a rather out-of-character glare at the comment, and David knew better than to tussle with his wife's closest friend.

The sound of a cane tapping against the ground alerts Mary Margaret to the pawnbroker's presence. She averts her gaze from the ship and turns her head to look at the man. He walks up to her, slowly, leisurely, calmly, just as he always does. It's strange, really, how the man always exudes such an air of confidence, even if he's fighting inner turmoil.

Not that anyone would be aware of such inner turmoil unless he stated it himself. Secretive too. Mary Margaret recalls the times she's dealt with him back in their old land – an imp, a trickster, with a sardonic smile and a way of manipulating people. He was just the same and yet just the opposite of his counterpart, truth to be told.

"You're quite sure about this venture?" Gold says finally, coming to stand beside her. "It might be best for all involved if the Captain stays in the locker."

Mary Margaret narrows her eyes. "My daughter is also with him. I'm going, and if you don't want to come, you don't have to."

Gold raises an eyebrow at this comment but says nothing.

Mary Margaret continues, "We'll find Emma and Henry without your help, no matter what you may believe."

"Much as I would prefer to stay where my magic is more reliable – where I can trust that my…other personality will not bare its ugly teeth – my son happens to be accompanying you, so I'll be going for him." Gold replies.

Mary Margaret does not miss the fact that he just admitted he may not be the best of travelling companions – but his comment is cryptic and difficult to untangle. If the man is saying that his magic is uncontrollable in the Locker, there may be a problem, but she pushes her thoughts away from that road. Best to not seek problems until they appear of their own volition.

So she speaks, and instead, "Are you trying to manipulate us like you're so very fond of?" she pauses for a moment, "If you think that this will somehow get Neal and Emma back together… some twisted plan for his happiness…it will never work."

Gold shakes his head. "Ah, no, but I've seen the way my son looks at Emma," he chuckles at the next bit, said a little more softly and too low for Mary Margaret to hear, "And I've seen how she looks at the pirate. Believe me; my manipulation has nothing to do with it. Your family has this way of creating – or attracting chaos – all by themselves."

He turns on his heel then and begins to stroll away. Mary Margaret stares at his retreating form, her mind awhirl with thoughts, and almost doesn't hear him when he stops and turns again to look at her. "And oh, Miss Blanchard?"

Mary Margaret refocuses her gaze. "Yes?"

"Getting into Davy Jones Locker may be easy, but you'll find that it takes more than a magic bean to get out."

"We'll find a way," Mary Margaret attempts to not show any of her concern. "My family may create chaos, but we also always get back to each other."

The man tilts his head, and a slight smile hinting of danger forms, showing a sliver of the imp beneath his cool persona. "Well, then, I'll warn you now and only now, you may find yourself a different person before the journey's end."

And then he walks away, leaving Snow White, wife to Prince Charming, mother of the Saviour, standing there with an imperceptible look on her face – confusion, fear, worry, anger – it could be anything.

She's right about one thing, that family does have a way of getting their happy endings. They'll do anything for family, Gold thinks to himself as he heads off towards the ship, but she'll learn quickly that her daughter may not quite be the same person she saw last.

Then Rumpelstiltskin grins.


"What is your great plan, then?" Emma asks the pirate captain himself, tempted to cross her arms, but forcing herself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how irritated she is.

Hook strolls over to the rigging leading to the crow's nest. "These mountains of sand don't go on forever – Davy Jones' Locker is famed for being an intricate puzzle. We'll get the Jolly Roger to the ocean and go from there."

Emma gives him a look. "Doesn't seem like a very smart plan. Isn't Calypso a sea goddess? "

"That she is. Make no doubt about it, the woman does love her fishes and mermaids and the like," Hook replies, not really giving her a concrete answer one way or another.

Emma slowly nods, her brows furrowing. "So then why are we going to the sea? Like, the place she controls?"

"Because, love, you'll find that a ship sails far better on water than it does sand," he says with a mocking twinkle in his eyes.

"Yet we find ourselves on sand. Which, like you, said, a ship can't exactly move on. So, if we're to get to somewhere it can sail, don't you think it has to move in order to get there?" Emma says. Is he really that thick-headed, she wonders, or is this one of his miraculous 'plans'?

As if eager to prove her right in her previous idea about his competence, a displeased look forms on Hook's face as he takes in the meaning of Emma's words. She can't completely hear him, but he mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like 'bloody sea goddess' and 'bloody swan' and 'bloody sand'. Emma makes herself hold back a snigger of laughter at the frustrated look in his eyes, although she can see that his mind is working a mile a minute to figure out a solution to their problem.

Meanwhile, as Hook thinks, he looks up from under his brows, watching Emma with a hooded gaze as she leans against the railing of the deck. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are darting from here to there, obviously trying to find something to do while she waits. Hook chuckles to himself and looks down again, thinking, but it's Killian Jones that glances up once more to watch her, a faint smile forming, the edges of his lips quirking up in barely-concealed delight at the look on her face.

Just as bloody stubborn as Milah, he thinks.

But then, no, she's Emma through and through.


A/N: I happen to be a strong supporter of Killipan. That is all. ;)

What would be a better way to show that you've enjoyed this story so far than to leave a review with some [possible] feedback? Lovely things, reviews.