Chapter 8:

The Middle Game

The Futterwack Inn

Jackdaw Rook had high-tailed it out of Underland after the game. Without paying Caterpillar.

Normally, this was not a cause for concern. Normally, Jackdaw would have been enjoying the inn's long-legged maids performing the establishment's namesake dance and would have rested peacefully in his usual extra-large room with its amenities fit for the former Red King. But the past twenty-four hours hadn't been normal.

Now, he feared for when the Caterpillar sent his Collectors after him.

And the over-sized larva would, as soon as he learned that Jackdaw's illustrious brother would not be forwarding his allowance.

Normally, his brother would. The Red Bishop could not have it said that their great family was in debt to this realm's riff raff, oh no. Normally, his brother would not mind spotting him when Luck abandoned him, but this time, Jackdaw knew his brother would not be able to overlook the fact that he had lost to a no account Outlander. The shame of the Great Bishop's, the Monstrous Crow's little brother losing to someone so beneath them in couth and cunning would not be born.

And so he, Jackdaw, would have to deal with Caterpillar and his Collectors on his own as a lesson – to either win no matter what or to know when to bow out and not make a spectacle of himself like he had last night. He wasn't sure which lesson his brother would have in mind, but he knew the Monstrous Crow would have one.

Thus, here he sat morosely nursing his mead and procrastinating the inevitable that he would have to face when he went home with his tail tucked between his legs.

"Ah! There you are, my good man! I have been looking everywhere for you," said a man as he plopped on the stool next to him.

Jackdaw's first reaction was to flinch, thinking that Caterpillar had already sent his henchmen after him, but then he actually got a good look at the new arrival and recognized him.

He was the man who had patted down that vile upstart.

"You!" he accused, his voice coming out as a low disgusted growl.

"Me," the man brazenly beamed, as he collected his mug that the bartender plopped down beside him.

"You were the man who supposedly checked for anything hidden up its sleeves."

"And there was none," this knave vowed, still looking irritatingly happy, as he blithely continued, "That Kit was just incredibly lucky."

"Bullshit. No one's that lucky," he grumbled. Even though he realized a few weeks back he himself had been just that lucky against the young baron buck of the Diamond family.

"Chin up, mate," the man persisted. "While I may not be able to restore your pride, I am in the fortunate position to get you out of your unfortunate one with the Caterpillar."

"And what do you know of any of it?" he spat, eyeing this stranger who despite his be-ringed fingers didn't look like he could afford to pay a tenth of Jackdaw's debt.

The man's smile fell from his lips (but not his absurdly blue eyes which continued to twinkle), as he answered with mysterious gravity, "I know enough. People talk, and I listen. And I know that you are just the man to help me."

"Oh? And what can I do for you?" he asked with exaggerated interest. The sooner this man made his offer, the sooner he would leave Jackdaw the hell alone.

"I have a nag for a wife. Not an actual nag, mind you; she's truly a fine filly of a woman, all woman and not bit horse-ish, but she is insufferably bossy – needling, poking, and prodding, and so forth," the man rambled. "It's enough to drive a man to drastic measures, just for a moment of silence."

Knowing exactly how this man felt (due to current circumstances and his own relationship with his dear brother), he prompted impatiently, "And what drastic measures do you presume that I can I help you with?"

"I want the Queen of Heart's execution sword."

Jackdaw nearly choked, and when he finally had enough air in his lungs, he managed to ask, "The one my brother, the Monstrous Crow, has?"

"Yes, that one. Not that I intend to use it on my wife, just threaten her with it. For, you see, she was beheaded once before by the Queen of Hearts – may she never return – and she has a dreadful fear for the thing, and to hold it over her head – figuratively speaking of course – would shut that ever-jawing hole in her face."

Jackdaw didn't particularly care about the man's marital situation, but if this nagging fishwife could out-jabber this man, then it would explain his willingness to risk the wrath of the Crow. He himself was in such dire straits that if the man offered him enough, he would too.

So he named his price.

~0~

It took Killian less than a day to track down Tawny's latest victim. All he had to do was find out which of the watering holes on the way to the Bishop's fortified monastery was luxurious enough for a man who wore a fancy tailored suit, and sure enough the blaggard had been at the Futterwack Inn drinking his humiliation away.

Tawny had wanted to know how he was going to approach 'the mark', but he himself hadn't known until he saw the man and had assessed his mood.

Rook was drinking morosely by himself, and the invisible buffer around him was healthily respected by everyone else due to occasional snarls and his reputation.

Killian decided to 'brave it' by pretending to be clueless and oblivious, a role which also happened to dispel the instinctive response of the wary to his dangerous nature.

"…And the man fell for it, hook, line, and sinker, love."

Several groans were let out at this obvious pun, and while his lass rolled her amber eyes, the corners of her mouth twitched in suppressed mirth, before she said, "And so where and when will you be meeting him to make this exchange?"

"On the edge of the Whispering Woods, wherever that is."

"It's halfway between Futterwack Crossroads and the Monastery," Alice chimed in helpfully, if he knew where the latter landmark was.

"It's also good place for an ambush," Cyrus pointed out.

In the dim light of the moon, he could see his lass grimace before swallowing her pride to ask, "Well then, Sir Knight, would you be so kind as to accompany Killian and Will to the exchange?"

Lancelot nodded, but Scarlet held up his hands and protested, "Whoa! Whoa! Why am I going?"

"Because Killian and Lancelot do not know the area and need a local guide," Tawny explained as if to a child. Apparently, his lass was still channeling a bit of her Kit persona.

"Okay, rephrase: Why am I the only one playing tour guide?" Scarlet retorted.

Before his lass could explain the method to her madness, the former genie added his two-cents, "Yes, why only one? There is safety in numbers, and if the Crow gets wind of his brother's intent…Well, a few more people watching the Captain's back would be smart."

"What is so terrifying about this 'Monstrous Crow'?" the knight rumbled curiously. Killian couldn't help but think 'if you have to ask…'

There was a collective shudder among the Wonderlanders, before Cyrus answered, "The Red Bishop is a powerful magician. One that can shape-shift into an actual above-average sized black crow."

"He is so powerful, that it is rumored that he was what was keeping the Queen of Hearts in check when she was facing off with the Red King," Scarlet added.

Killian let out a low appreciative whistle at that. Powerful and nasty indeed to even inspire a rumor that he was an equal to Cora.

"And according to Tweedle and Rabbit, now that Jafar is gone and Anastasia imprisoned, he is the one trying to fill the power vacuum and stabilize the Red Court," Alice explained.

"Again, why are not all of us going?" Willy-boy inquired impatiently.

Not in the mood to witness another round of 'Gwen'-and-Will, which he strongly suspected had been stage one of their version of foreplay, he answered for his lass, "Because if Tawny-lass goes and Rook gets wind of it, he will rightly suspect that he has been played and will at the very least not make the exchange."

"So I am staying here."

He held her gaze as he declared with a low growl, "But not alone."

"Not alone," she solemnly promised him, only breaking his gaze to add with a shrug, "And there is no sense in breaking up the recently united love-bird couple, so you three fine mighty strong men will just have to be enough."

Killian knew she was just stroking Scarlet's ego for the sole purpose of bolstering his confidence, but he deeply wished that she hadn't described her former lover with any of those adjectives. He supposed he should count his blessings that Willy-boy was not the one staying behind with his lass.

As soon as Scarlet acquiesced, they all began turning in for the night, as the three men had an early start if they were to make their meeting on time.

Tonight, he ignored his and his lass's emotional distance and held her close to him, and without hesitation, she burrowed within his embrace, whispering, "I hate this plan too."

~0~

Tawny did hate this plan. She hated it for the same reason Killian hated most of her plans – her partner would be in danger, and she wouldn't be there to watch his back. No, she had to rely on others to do that.

It's not that she didn't trust Will and the knight. No, even despite Will being a self-centered bastard without a heart to boot and Lancelot being an oathbreaker, she knew that they would do their best to keep him alive. But their commitment to that goal wasn't like hers. They wouldn't give their lives for him like she would.

So that morning, she kissed him goodbye, gave Will a brief hug, glared at Lancelot to ensure he knew what his sole purpose for this mission was, and then walked in the opposite direction of the trio under the ruse of needing to clean up …something. She just couldn't watch her pirate walk away from her. It had never worked out well for her when she had.

To keep herself occupied that day, she fished, did laundry, helped Alice and Cyrus prepare their meals, and helped clean up afterwards. For the most part, the couple respected her need to brood, but towards the end of dinner that ended.

Alice began with a hesitant clearing of her throat, before blurting, "So, pardon my curiosity, but, Gwen, were you ever in love with Will back in Storybrooke?"

Tawny stared at the young woman, trying to figure out where this question had come from, before she recalled that Alice grew up in prudish Victorian England. If Will, being the jackass he was, had alluded to the nature of their former relationship, then of course Alice would be just that – curious.

Her gaze turned thoughtful, as she answered honestly, "No, I never was."

Alice frowned at her admission. Emotions flickered across her pale face and in her blue eyes – confusion, disappointment, and relief.

She could guess at the reasons for all three – confusion, because the love-blissed girl could not fathom another reason for a lady to give up her virtue; disappointment, because her friend did not share her morals; and relief, because that meant that once Will had his heart and his Ana back, there would be no awkward clichéd love triangle.

She didn't hold any of these against Alice. What the girl didn't understand was that by the time Tawny knew Will, she didn't have any virtue to give. Not that she was going to explain any of that to her. No, only Killian needed to know the details of her relationship with her 'husband'. But she could explain a little about modern world culture.

"Alice, I don't know how much Will told you about us," she began, and at Alice's crinkle of disgust, she huffed with amusement, "Apparently, enough and crudely, the tosser. Anyways…the thing you need to know about Storybrooke is that it is a town set in a world and time, in which waiting until one's married or even in love for …"

She paused, drifting off while she tried to find a PG enough description for her friend, before finally settling on, "…for that level of physical intimacy is unnecessary. And while Cursed, we were instilled with those kinds of morals." Goodness, even freaking pure-as-snow Snow White had had a one-night stand with Whale if the rumors were true.

Alice nodded, and then asked bashfully, "What other reasons are there?"

Trying not to smirk at Cyrus's sudden need to excuse himself to 'check the perimeter', she shrugged and answered, "Because they – we wanted to."

She fervently hoped Ms. Curiosity wouldn't ask why she and Will had wanted to. As young, angry Gwen, she had several less than romantic reasons. Cathartic release, the desire to forget, the desire to inflict pain, the desire to feel, to be connected, to not be empty, to have some form of pleasure in a life that had experienced very little happiness and quite a bit of misery – all reasons that she did not want to get into on top of her anxiety for Killian.

Fortunately, Alice inquired instead, "But with your captain, it's more than that right? You called him your 'true-mate' when you introduced him."

Hugging herself and staring out into the woods that had swallowed 'her captain', she nodded and whispered, "Yeah, it's more. He's my other half," and then to lighten the mood, she chuckled, "Although, I'm not sure if he's my better half or not."

Alice smiled at that, and they drifted off into thoughtful silence once again.

Tawny's thoughts wandered down the dark path of 'What if…?', and so she was grateful for Alice's next query, even if it continued this highly personal session of girl talk.

"How is it that you two are together? I mean, I found it difficult to imagine the Gwen of my memory to be with a…with a…"

The girl floundered for a description so Tawny helped her out, supplying with a laugh, "Pirate? Bastard? Rogue? His favorite title is 'dashing rapscallion', by the way."

Alice nodded apologetically, as if she thought Tawny would be insulted for her describing Captain Killian 'Hook' Jones in such a way.

Tawny shrugged and grinned, "No worries, dear. I have called him worse and he has been worse, once upon a time."

She looked at the girl and saw her brow crease in puzzlement, clearly thinking 'if so, then why?'

She shrugged again, and then answered her un-voiced question, "Killian at one point tried to figure this out too."

"And what conclusion did he come to?"

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she answered slowly, trying still to not get into the whole Arthur thing. "After learning that I had once been hurt by someone for choosing the … happiness of the greater good over my own, even though the man seemed to love me, Killian believed that I could trust him, because he was selfish and an ignoble pirate."

"Was he right?"

At her question, Tawny smirked and slyly observed, "That he is an ignoble pirate? I thought we already covered that."

Alice rolled her eyes and exasperatedly, but affectionately nudged her shoulder before prompting, "No, his theory."

"Partly," she admitted, and then with a sigh she voiced what she hadn't that night up in the Roger's crow's nest, "You can always trust a selfish man to choose the self-centered thing. The key is to always be essential to his well-being."

Alice absorbed this thoughtfully, before sagely observing, "That puts a lot of pressure on you though, always being essential."

Tawny nodded in agreement, but couldn't keep a smile of fondness for her man-in-black from her face, "Yeah, if he was the typical selfish male specimen, it would be a problem, but with Killian…He's loyal and possessive. Once he commits to something, once he views something or someone as his, he never ever lets go."

Upon hearing this, Alice glanced down at her engagement ring and smiled softly, "I understand that."

Cyrus came back at this point, and the topic of conversation changed. But later that evening as she was standing watch and in between trying to not let her imagination runaway to the land of worst-case scenarios, she thought about what she didn't say to Alice.

She didn't say what had always nagged at her in the back of her mind, when she considered her pirate's fine qualities of tenacious loyalty and possessiveness.

She didn't say that even though she may never have to worry about him choosing 'the greater good' over her or choosing someone new and shinier, she did have to worry about his affection for those who had come before.

Captain Killian Seamus 'Hook' Jones never ever let go of what was his. And she didn't know where she ranked in his collection, in his affection.

It shouldn't have bothered her. But it did. There had been whispers in Storybrooke as to the reason Jones was with her, had moved so quickly on to her, and, of course, being the Concerned Citizen, the maid who knew everything, she had heard them.

It shouldn't have bothered her, because he was here with her. He had followed her into Wonderland. 'Where you go, I go, love,' he had said.

She tried to take comfort in that. But there was no real comfort, for one simple reason.

He could die. All because of her and her quests, he could die.

'Oh, merciful Lord, I'll do anything to keep that from happening…'

~0~

Whispering Woods

They made it to the rendezvous point early, allowing for them to scope out the land and prepare for their less than trustworthy business partner.

Over the rustling of leaves and the sinister murmuring that earned the wood its namesake, Will heard Hook mutter, "...So this is why he said it would be a good place for an ambush. How the hell are we going to see anyone coming?"

"How in hell indeed?" spoke a voice somnolent voice from above.

All three of them looked up. And there in the tree, peeking out from behind its rustling leaves was wide smile and beady red eyes.

Lancelot's hand twitched to his sword, and Hook growled out a low oath. He, on the other hand, jumped back a step and attempted to look for escape routes while keeping his eyes on the capricious predator.

"What are you doing here, Chesh?" he inquired trying not to nervously swallow. Although he was stalling, it was a valid question. The Cat's usual haunt was the Tulgey Woods by Hatter's house.

"I'm hunting," purred the Cat, as his slowly materializing feline form began to slink closer to them along the tree's branch. "And look, what I found, Three Deaf Mice. I should have moved here ages ago."

At Cheshire's words, the other two men began to move as if they could out-flank the Cat. Knowing better, Will frantically searched his brain for some way to convince the fiend that eating them would not be in its best interest. Somehow, he didn't think pointing out that Hook's hook would gut him from the inside out would work.

"Oh, speaking of the Bishop, I heard an interesting bit of news the other day...I heard that the Cat and the Crow are getting into a territorial pissing competition..."

Liz's words came back to him in the blessed nick of time, because the fiend was positioning himself to pounce upon at least one of his Three Deaf Mice.

"So, Chesh, how would you like to stick it to the Crow?" he hastily blurted.

If possible, Chesh's grin got even wider, as he replied, "Better than canary, and the knowledge that I am depriving his pawns' of their prey will spice up the delicious entree you three will make."

"That's a valid point you make, Chesh. So valid that might I point out that if you let us play bait while we conclude our deal and then escape, you will not only have that knowledge but many more tasty morsels for dinner? But if you include us in your meal as appetizer, entree, or dinner, you will be doing Crow's dirty work for him?"

The Cat's grin disappeared momentarily, along with the rest of his body, and all Will could see was the angry, hungry beady eyes. And then the grin returned, as the somnolent voice purred amusedly, "You are not so much the fool as once thought, Knave. Be very grateful that the Crow has taken more meals from me than you did when you deprived me of that tasty morsel called Alice."

And then he was gone, and all one could hear was the trees' murmurs, his companions' collective sighs of relief, and his own muttered, "Bloody hell."

~0~

"Do you think that he will go through with it?" the Knight inquired.

Willy-boy shrugged, "Who knows? He's a capricious beastie."

"Wonderful," he muttered. Killian was reluctantly impressed with the way Willy-boy handled the demon-cat, but he was not going to tell the lad that. No, instead he began strategizing.

"Lancelot, if you take your position in the thicket over there, you'll have both cover and higher ground. Will? I suggest you find a tree that will give you both cover and the best possible view. In this gloom, we'll need a look out."

They did as he instructed without questioning – which he swore was a first for Willy-boy.

Not long after they were all in position, Jackdaw Rook showed up, stepping out of the whispering gloom, moments after Scarlet signaled with a soft owl hoot, and strapped to his back was the coveted blade.

"Well met, Rook," he greeted with a bow and congenial grin.

"Well met…? I'm sorry, I don't believe I ever caught your name, good sir," noted the man apologetically.

The hairs on the back of Killian's neck rose. The only reason a man like Rook made a point of knowing a man like he thought Killian was, was to discover if the man had any family he had to be worried about after killing him. 'Double-crossing blighter'

But Killian knew how to play the game of Cat-and-Mouse better than most, so without pause, he replied affably, "Oh? I didn't properly introduce myself? Beg pardon, the name is Jones."

"Jones, huh?" Rook replied, his beady eyes narrowing in what Killian could only assume was frustration at not getting anything further, and then more business-like he added, "So Jones, did you bring my money?"

Killian drew from his satchel two bags full of coins. It was all the money that Tawny had won at the tables and most of the coin that he had earned. The brazen chit hadn't swiped all of his earnings like she thought she had.

Jiggling the bags so that they gave satisfying clinks, as he stated blithely but briskly, "Of course, all here. Do you have the sword?"

Rook shot him a disgusted look, sneering, "Of course, I do. What do you think is strapped to my back?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, mate. I see a sword, but I have yet to examine my merchandise to verify that it is the sword."

Rook grunted, partly in irritation, but also, Killian suspected, with surprised respect. He obviously hadn't been expecting the Garrulous Jones to be a savvy bargainer.

Finally, the man said, "Fair enough," and unstrapping the blade's scabbard from his back, Rook walked towards him with it held out in front of him palms up.

The blade was shorter than he expected. He had imagined that such a terror-inducing weapon would be the length of a great sword, but instead of being two meters, it was merely half that. The hilt was black leather, the cross-guard was a simple straight cross-bar, and the pommel contained a blood-red ruby.

Rook tugged the sword a few inches from its scabbard to show its inscription. The markings matched the images that Tawny had captured from the Oraculum. They reminded him of the strange ancient words written in Regina's and Cora's spell-book.

This was Soul-splitter Nakephalé.

Upon seeing the markings, he dropped the bags at Rook's feet, so that he could grab the blade with his one good hand. All the while he silently cursed not having his hook in place.

He stepped back, gave yet another slight bow, and said, "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Rook. I hope you have better luck at the tables next time."

"Same to you, Mr. Jones," Rook returned with an obsequious smile. More slyly, he added, "Will I be seeing you at Caterpillar's again?"

Killian's smile was his most self-deprecating as he replied, "Well, that depends on how effective this beauty is, I suppose," and then he swung the scabbard around, looping it over his neck and shoulder so that the blade rested against his back like it had with Rook, before giving the man a final jaunty wave.

He was about twenty to thirty yards away when there was a startled and shrill whip-poor-will bird call. Just before some hired ruffian with a cardinal red scimitar raised above his head charged out into the open.

Will had provided enough warning that he was able to side-step the man and shove him face first into a nearby tree. A most satisfying crunch could be heard over the woods' cacophony. And then two more brutes appeared not too far behind him and much more cautious.

To Rook, he growled, "Are they with you?"

Rook shrugged and smirked unconcernedly, "With me? Not in so much that I brought them here. That would be cheating and you know how I feel about that. But…they are my brother's men, and you did just acquire something of his, so…"

"On my own head, be it?"

"Precisely," the little odious man agreed as he leaned back to watch the show.

Killian pulled out his own sword, and not the prize, and faced the two men, who were attempting to circle and outflank him. He, however, was no amateur.

He faced off with the man on his left. The man lifted his sword in the en garde position. Killian feinted, and then spun into the man on his right.

Their swords entangled and so did their legs. He hooked his foot behind the other man's and swept it out from under him. His assailant fell to the ground, and he used his momentum to propel himself over the man and up the path.

The only man left standing gave chase with the other two doing their best to catch up. Fools.

Killian led them up and past the thicket before spinning once again to face his attackers. "Well, gents, like I told Rook, I'm Jones – "

"Don'd care," grumbled Broken-nose.

" – and this is my colleague Leviathan," he continued blithely.

"Hello."

All three men turned to look at the source of the low bass voice. Their heads craned upwards (and upwards) to meet Lancelot's cool dark gaze.

And this is when Killian struck. Not terribly good form, but it would do in a pinch.

He slashed at the wrist of the man nearest him. The sword dropped, and the man shrieked as blood began to gush everywhere. Oops, he had struck an artery. And then there were two.

Or so he thought, for when he had dispatched Broken-nose, he saw that two more had joined the fray.

Lancelot seemed to be holding his own against his first opponent and one of the new ones, but the third was giving him problems, as he was a dancer.

No matter. He loved to dance.