Well, it's Monday where I live, so...

Not gonna lie, a big part of why this chapter is so late is because it was just really hard for me to write.

Henry had no time to figure out what the pattern was because, the moment he began to wonder at it, Emma stopped walking. She had been moving along at a quick but steady pace. For her to halt so abruptly, they had to be practically on top of Aladdin.

When Henry followed his mom's gaze, he saw what looked like a very old, run-down mausoleum. The kind of structure that was so decrepit on the outside that nobody in their right mind would bother to check the inside. Or else, nobody who was not a Savior who had swallowed a tracking potion.

Regina and Henry slowed to a stop, and the mayor's hand on Jasmine's arm helped her gently stumble to a halt. Killian's footsteps slowed as well, but he continued to draw nearer the decaying stone structure.

"He's in there, I can feel it," Emma posited, sounding as bewildered as Henry felt. Why would a Savior be squatting in a place like this? What would two Saviors be doing in Storybrooke? And what assurance had Rahma had that Aladdin would be in Storybrooke at all? Somehow, Henry had a difficult time believing anyone could have predicted that a Savior would find their way to a land with no magic, apart from within one small town that did not exist on any map.

"I'll go first then, shall I?" Killian suggested. "Make sure it's safe."

"What's it doing out here?" Regina asked, seemingly to none of them in particular. "What is anything doing out here?" Emma glanced back, a furrow between her brows.

"You didn't know it was here?" she asked, having been under the impression that Regina knew every square inch of Storybrooke just as well as she knew her own office. The mayor spread her hands, her forehead creasing.

"No," she answered. "Maybe Hyde brought it somehow."

"In that really big hot air balloon of his," Emma suggested bemusedly. Regina scoffed in frustration but resisted the urge to snap at the blonde. Jasmine only stood between them in nervous silence, twisting her fingers. She all but leapt forward when Killian waved them towards the stone structure. Regina followed her immediately, but Emma found herself hanging back. She swayed a bit, arms folded with her hands tucked into her sides. Henry took a few steps of his own before he noticed she was not keeping pace with the others. When he did, he turned to look back at her. Emma had a small frown just above her nose, like she was thinking about something intently. Her eyes were cast downward.

"Mom?" Henry prompted. Upon hearing him speak, she perked up.

"Sorry," she said. Then she started toward the dilapidated stone hut.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked with a frown that closely resembled hers, allowing himself to fall behind her by a few steps.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's just go find Aladdin." Emma's voice was sharper than she had intended for it to be. She told herself it was only so that Henry would hear her. Behind her, she heard him stepping brusquely to catch up, shaking off her words. The note in her voice that only he could hear clearly stated that she was not as prepared as she wanted everyone to believe. Young as Henry had been, he remembered Emma's behavior when she had first arrived in Storybrooke. She had insisted on charging into danger and doing everything she could do – and some things she could not – herself. That habit had not changed much over the past few years, though she was getting better. Henry, however, could not help but think that she would have preferred to be alone now. If she could not find Aladdin, or if she found him dead, that would not be a disappointment she would want anyone else to witness. Why she could not see that her family was there only to help her was beyond Henry. After everything they had been through, why could she not count on them for support?

Still oblivious to Henry's wonderings, Emma carefully descended the stone steps, just in front of him. It was a small space and the light filtered down the short staircase through the open door. The door itself was loose on its hinges and hung open on its own. Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, they saw Jasmine and Regina standing still, glancing around. Killian – who had recently discovered the flashlight on his cell phone – was shining it around warily, squinting through the dusty beam.

"He's here?" Jasmine asked. "Are you sure?" Emma nodded wordlessly, taking in her surroundings like she was afraid of what she would see.

"Positive." It was strange, though. The tightness in her chest was still there, like the cord connecting her to Aladdin was still tugging at her. Where else it could be leading, however, she had no idea. "What is this place?" she mused. Regina shook her head in confusion, but Killian was quick to answer.

"It's a crypt."

Finally, Emma and Henry's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and they could see what the others were seeing. Dusty, decomposed corpses. They lay on stone shelves, and some of them had pieces of broken rock around them, like they had been walled off. Most of them were practically mummified. Vaguely, Henry noted that that meant the crypt could not have been in Storybrooke all this time. It must have come from some dryer land. Emma, however, was more focused on the cold feeling in her chest. It was spreading, numbing everything it touched.

Suddenly, she heard a sharp gasp from beside her.

"Jasmine?" she heard Regina ask. "What is it-what's wrong?" But the princess was not listening. Instead, she was stumbling away from the group, one hand covering her mouth. Her other hand was reaching out to one of the shelves. There was a corpse laying on it, and Emma could practically see the horrified expression it would be making if there had been skin stretched around its skull. She noticed a tear rolling down Jasmine's cheek as her fingers closed around something small and dull, fumbling as they lifted it away.

"Jasmine?" Emma asked. Killian crossed the small room purposefully, shining the light from his phone onto the object she had just lifted. Sitting in her palm was a sun- and sand-worn metal scarab. It may have been red, or purple at one time, and some flecks of blue remained. Underneath the layer of grime was likely gold. But the way that Jasmine was holding onto it made it seem the most important object in all the realms. She lifted the hand pressed over her mouth.

"This was Aladdin's." There were tears in her voice to match the ones on her face. "He is in Storybrooke." Her voice broke on the last, and Regina stepped forward. The mayor placed a gentle hand on the princess's arm, but remained silent. She did not know what to say.

"Are you sure this is him?" Henry asked. But he was afraid he already knew the answer. Dread was blooming in his chest. Killian felt his heart grow cold.

"I gave this to him!" Jasmine cried. "It has to be him, I…" Suddenly, Regina found herself holding Jasmine upright. The light in the room wavered as Killian caught her other arm, being careful to keep his hook away from her.

Jasmine was growing very weary of crying.

"Okay," Regina finally said. "Come on, let's get some air." Had Snow been there, Regina knew the princess would have known what to say. What did the mayor know about comforting others? Silently, she cursed herself for being so damn clueless, but she wrapped an arm around Jasmine's waist and led the grieving woman back up the stone steps all the same. Killian let them go and stayed put, watching Henry make his way over to Emma. Only then did the pirate notice how quiet Emma had been through the whole exchange.

"Mom?" Emma gasped, apparently surprised at being addressed. "What does this mean?" Henry asked slowly.

"I don't know, I, uh…" She trailed off as if in thought, but Killian was not so sure that she was really thinking. Her eyes had glazed over and he could see some strange emotion attempting to fight its way through. Whatever it was, though, he did not get the chance to find out. "I think I need to be alone, for a bit." Killian felt his own eyes darken, but instead of pleading with him, Emma's own eyes turned as far from him as they could.

"As you wish, Swan," he grumbled, backing away. Always with her need for space. Always with sending him away.

Deep down, Killian knew perfectly well that Emma was not trying to hurt him. Some part of him knew that this was really not about him at all. Disturbing as the vision was, it was hers. It was her future that was at stake, and it sounded as though she might lose that future while fighting for him – for all of them. The trouble was, he had an immense desire to be a part of that future. Despite how often she had told him she wanted that too, he had had to exercise remarkable patience to get to this lukewarm place in their relationship. They had faced dangers and difficulties that he had felt certain they would never survive. And yet, they had. This, though, was something new. How could they fight something without knowing what it was? And how could he help if Emma would not ask him to?

Once outside the dank crypt, he turned and looked back at the entrance. No matter how hard he fought for this woman – no matter how hard they fought for each other – it seemed that there would always be one thing standing between them: themselves.

Glancing around, Killian found that Regina and Jasmine were nowhere to be seen. He did not imagine that the princess would find the presence of a one-handed pirate very reassuring, so he trudged off in the general direction of Main Street. Maybe he would get a table at the Rabbit Hole.

Who was he kidding? He was going to help Snow and Charming look for the cricket.

Down in the crypt, Henry had started towards the stairs, but he could not bring himself to climb them. His mom's back was turned to him, and he stared at it thoughtfully.

An Oracle's guardian who insisted that a Savior would be reunited with his princess, only to be killed just before they could find his body? A villain who threatened disastrous consequences of stories untold? A fairy who insisted that the villain be kept safe? There had to be a connection, but Henry could not fathom what it might be. Rahma and Jasmine had clearly been players, but what was Hyde's game? If Fox knew about it, she had not shared any details with Emma. He thought back to how the fairy had acted on the day of the new census, just the week before. Until that day, he had never seen her truly nervous, but finding out that Jekyll and Hyde were in Storybrooke had practically flicked a switch in her mind. She must have known something could go wrong. But why would she, a fairy not warn him or Emma? Could it be that Fox was as clueless as the rest of the heroes?

Just as Henry's head was beginning to swim with all of his questions, Emma turned around to see him still standing at the foot of the stairs. She gasped, jumpier than usual.

"God, kid," she admonished, not entirely unkindly. "I told you, I really need to be alone."

Alone. Always alone.

"I know, but…" he grimaced and sighed through his nose. How to explain this? "It can't be a coincidence." In spite of herself. Emma frowned and stepped closer to her son.

"What d'you mean?" Henry's hands fidgeted within his pockets.

"An Oracle's guardian just happens to be murdered the same day we find Aladdin…" he trailed off, eyes lingering on the remains on the shelf. The skull really did look terrified of something. Noticing where he was looking, his mom shifted so that she was blocking his view of the leathery corpse. "Aladdin was the one person who might be able to help you with a problem you didn't even know you had until Hyde told you about it. But he's the one who brought Rahma."

"Rahma?"

"The Oracle's guardian. And you heard Regina: Hyde must have brought this place here somehow."

"What are you saying?" But Emma had an idea of what he was saying. It was simply too complex for her to believe.

"What if Hyde is just messing with you? Your vision might not even be real," Henry suggested. Emma tilted her head and her frown took on a sympathetic edge. It looked remarkably like the expression Jasmine had given him earlier that day. He was so tired of that look. Both his moms had looked at him like that more times than he could count, and he had always been proven right in the end. This time could not be any different. He could not let this time be any different, not when there was so much at stake. And yet, he was not sure what more he could do. All the people who could have helped Emma – helped all of them – were either evil or gone.

"Kid…" Henry tried to argue, but he found he could not get the words out through his rapidly tightening throat.

"It…it can't be real-it…" He blinked once, twice, four times in a row. Emma sighed, all at once every bit the warm mother she had never thought she could be before Storybrooke. Before a knock on her door on an autumn night four years earlier. Stepping forward, she pulled her son into her arms.

"C'mere," she encouraged. Henry finally gave up, arms wrapping more tightly around her than they ever had before, shoulders shaking. It was like he was afraid she would disappear, and abruptly, Emma realized that he was.

It was like a tire boot. Ever since she had started having the vision, it was like the boot that normally kept her yellow bug firmly in Storybrooke with her family had been free floating. Now, she could feel it grounding her back to the pavement. For maybe the first time, she really understood what Elsa had meant about Anna's love keeping her magic steady. Emma had to love herself, had to trust herself first. But having someone to hang onto her more tightly than anyone else, who would go through whatever he needed to go through to keep her in his life…nothing could keep her more grounded than that.

"If you had…if you had never come to Storybrooke, n-none of this would be…would be happening," her son gasped out. He hiccupped – his tears must have been slowing. Emma could not see them. He had his face pressed into her neck, and he could feel the vibrations in her throat when she spoke.

"Operation Cobra part two," she said simply. Henry frowned.

"What?" Emma pulled back so that she could look at her son properly.

"Henry, you defied the Evil Queen to keep me in Storybrooke when you were ten years old." He gave a shaky chuckle and she wiped away the tear tracks on his face with the back of her hand. "I think I can defy an Oracle's guardian or Mr. Hyde or whoever is trying to take away my happy ending." Suddenly, Henry froze, small smile firmly in place until Emma registered his next words.

"Someone's there," he whispered. His lips barely moved, and he never took his eyes off of her face. His tone was admirably steady. This kid had clearly been through far too much for his age.

In one movement, Emma pushed him back and turned to keep him shielded behind her. Her right foot was planted firmly in front of her left and her hands were raised before her in a warning. With eyes well-adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the outline of a figure rounding the corner.

How big is this place?

This person was taller than Emma, with hair that fell to their shoulders. Even in the dark, she could tell that they were slouching, but they moved with determination. What she could not see was Henry squinting behind her, trying to get a clearer view of the oddly familiar stranger.

"Mom–"

"Stay back, I got this," she ordered. But just as the palms of her hands started glowing, she felt something.

The battery that had been buzzing away in her stomach shut down.

The blonde almost fell backwards into her son as she felt the cord that had pulled her to the crypt suddenly snap. The tightness in her chest that she had forgotten while comforting Henry disappeared, and she forced a deep, steady breath. She watched the stranger stumble back a step along with her. He, however, appeared unfazed.

"Not bad, Savior." There was something almost sardonic in the way he spoke Emma's title. Her hands lowered almost of their own accord. This newcomer's accent was strong, but she could understand him perfectly. Now that he had moved into the dusty light filtering down from the top of the stairs, she and Henry could see olive skin, dark hair, and unusually calculating eyes…

"Aladdin?" He did not answer Emma, rather sliding his gaze over to eye her son.

"Dry your eyes, kid." The endearment – if that was what it was – should have sounded strange from the newcomer's mouth, and to Emma, it did. Subtly, she moved to further separate the two of them. To Henry, though, it was as familiar as the glint of his dark eyes; the strange smile that seemed both to mock and to mollify. "Your mum's clearly got some fight left in her yet." Much like his smile, the stranger's tone was unreadable. Emma could not be sure if she was meant to be offended, or if she should be regardless. Under normal circumstances, she likely would have threatened him some more. However, she had an increasingly strong feeling that this…well, this street rat had once been a Savior.

"Lucky you were hiding in the dark, otherwise we might never have figured that out." The stranger chuckled softly.

"I know a cave in Agrabah with no shadows at all." There was an edge to his voice now. Was it sadness? Emma took a cautious step forward, fingers twitching ever-so slightly, and she adjusted her jacket to give them something to do. She was beginning to understand. "There's no flying carpets, but the weather's much better here."

Definitely Aladdin.

"You planted the scarab." The blonde did not need confirmation. Aladdin's eyes flickered downward. "You didn't want us to find you."

"I never meant for anyone to find me. The sheriffs in town have been too busy saving the world since the curse broke to notice a common thief-I thought I'd stay hidden forever." He chuckled again, self-pity lining the humorless sound. And that edge in his voice was beginning to sound an awful lot like guilt to the sheriff in the crypt. She gave him a withering look. "A very good one, to their credit." He gave what was probably meant to be a small, respectful nod.

"So, you've been in Storybrooke this whole time?" Henry did not really need to ask; Aladdin's story practically told itself. "Ever since the first curse?" This time when Aladdin glanced up at him, Henry was certain he knew those eyes.

"I…" But Aladdin found he had to search for the words. Now both Emma and Henry could see the guilt in his voice edging into his eyes. "I've wanted to help, but without magic–"

"'Without magic'?" Emma echoed, folding her arms. "Aren't you the Desert Savior?" She stumbled through the words, but her point made it across the small room. "Isn't magic part of the job?" Now she just sounded cranky. A nonmagical Savior who refused to help the town and stole from its citizens? Four years ago, she would have arrested this guy and charged him with all kinds of misdemeanors. Even just one year ago, she would have arrested him for ruining what was supposed to be a relaxing Saturday afternoon.

As if listening to her thoughts, Aladdin held up his hands in surrender. His self-pity turned apologetic as he tried to find words that she would want to hear.

"Without magic, I'm just a street rat. Besides, you managed just fine on your own," he pointed out sheepishly. Then he reached a hand into an inner pocket of his tan jacket. "Here. I heard what your boy said about the visions." He nodded to Henry. The teenager shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, realizing that Aladdin must have heard his crying as well. If the 'Desert Savior' passed any judgement, however, he showed no sign of it. "They are real, I'll tell you that. But this should help." The rise of his brow made it clear that he was speaking from experience, and his haunted tone let both the sheriff and her son know that his experience had been anything but pleasant.

When he held his hand out to Emma, he was holding a pair of golden shears, encased in a leather sheath.

"These belonged to the Fates," he explained. "They can sever your ties to your destiny." Any accusations lingering on the blonde's face melted away.

"Where did you get these?" she gasped. The corner of his mouth quirked up, but there was a bitter note in his voice when he answered her.

"On loan from an old enemy." She frowned again.

"You used them?"

"And as I'm sure Jasmine's told you, Agrabah fell." Something like shame made its weary way onto his face. "So, I ran to the Enchanted Forest. Got swept up in the curse." Aladdin swallowed thickly, not quite looking at Emma or Henry.

So that was it. A tracking potion, a trek through the woods, an upset Regina, and that was all it had come to. Emma had wanted so badly for the former Savior to give her an out. A way to avoid what it was becoming clear would be her fate. Now it seemed he had, but taking away her magic? Repeating the mistake she had almost made back in the sorcerer's mansion, before Elsa had stopped her, struck her as counterproductive. More than that, it struck her as wrong. Perhaps it was because if she had given up her power back then, she would probably be trapped in a hat, though she suspected there was another reason.

In Rumplestiltskin's vault, she had told Killian that she wanted to stop running. That Storybrooke was her home and nothing would ever change that. Taking away her magic, severing her ties to her own destiny would only feel like running away.

And what about Jasmine? She had spent at least thirty-two years looking for this man. In the Underworld, Emma had been devastated when Killian told her she had to leave without him. What would Jasmine think when Aladdin told her he had just…given up? Had run away to the Enchanted Forest, presumably never to see her again? Emma's vision had scared her into silence, made her wonder if maybe she should give up her magic – if only for a split second – but never had she considered walking away from the people she cared about.

But, the voice in her head reminded her, if all this had started happening when I first came to Storybrooke, I would have.

It was true. Even at the very start, before she had known that she was up against the Evil Queen, she had taken Henry and tried to run away. She had almost taken him to New York two years later. All her life, people had been trying to tell her who she was and what she was meant to do. Most of them thought that the answer to both was 'nothing'. Finally, she was somewhere where she actually mattered. Where people looked to her to lead and to help them. And all she had wanted to do was hide. Sure, she was the Savior, but for a long time…she had been a street rat.

According to Jasmine, Aladdin had only been the Savior for two years when he finally disappeared for good. With twice the experience, Emma could hardly judge him. It had taken the better part of three years for her to learn to fully trust the people who cared about her. And if Aladdin had not had anyone to lean on when his visions had started and his hands had begun to tremble, he must have felt even more scared than she was.

The blonde knew that he meant for her to take the shears, but all she could do was stare. First at the shears, then at the man holding them. There were deep circles under his eyes like bruises, and a smudge of dirt across his cheek. His shoulders were raised in a tense line. She knew that look. She herself had had it for years.

"What about Jasmine?" He frowned and peered at Emma without lifting his head. "She's never stopped looking for you." The guilt that had been lurking in his voice flared up across Aladdin's features, then disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.

"It's better she forgets about me. If she finds out what I've done-" He could not seem to bring himself to finish the thought. He shook his head and wobbled the shears lightly, trying to coax Emma into taking them. "Our story never even begun." She frowned, confusion written on her brow.

"Really? In the movie, you guys were–"

"Duty always got in the way," Aladdin interrupted in a tone that suggested he was very tired of hearing about the movie.

Gently, as if still deciding what to do, Emma wrapped her fingers around the shears, but she did not pull them away. Aladdin's eyes shifted to look at both their hands on the scissors that had caused him so much damn trouble.

"Look, I was a street rat too. For a long time, I thought that was all I could be." Henry looked up at his mom. Her eyes were wide and earnest. "But when you get someone who cares about you as much as Jasmine clearly does…" She tilted her head, forcing Aladdin to look at her again. "…you hang onto them." Aladdin let go of the shears but held Emma's gaze. She shook her head once. "No more running."

Aladdin's brow furrowed and his lips formed a hard line. He wanted to agree with her. He wanted to follow her and her boy up the stairs and into the light and go to his princess. He wanted to stop running. But a voice in the back of his head – perhaps the only selfless part of him left after years of thieving – would not be silenced.

"If I had never known the shears existed, I would still have tried to find a way out," he insisted. "And you, you're strong, Emma." He shook his head. "But you're not stronger than fate." Henry tensed. Emma only shrugged one shoulder.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe your mistake was trying to keep fighting alone." Aladdin's eyebrows twitched downward and he was silent for a long moment.

A small part of him acknowledged that she was probably right. In the end, he had had Rahma, but she was just a kid. Clever, but a kid nonetheless. What chance did a nurse have against Jafar? Or any villain, for that matter? Having someone he could talk to, someone who could help him fight, might have made a difference. It was a thought that had tormented him every night in the Enchanted Forest, and every day since Mr. Hyde had arrived and he had realized that Jasmine was in Storybrooke. And he would feel just as guilty for not being honest with Jasmine the last time he had seen her as he would for putting Rahma in danger. Why should someone like him deserve a second chance?

Yet, Emma had called him out. Yes, he was a street rat. He had made a number of mistakes and almost as many difficult decisions in order to survive in a suffering country. Aladdin could not remember the last time he had caught any kind of break. Some long-ignored logical part of him knew that if his life had been just a little fairer – and if he had ever had a real opportunity to be a hero – there was an excellent chance he would have taken it. Perhaps what he really needed was someone good. Someone to remind him that he could be more than just a selfish street rat. Someone to give him a second chance.

"…maybe," he conceded.

Normally, Aladdin was excellent at keeping his thoughts within his head. However, he had been walking for so long that he could hardly think at all. His legs were sore and his shoulder was tingling where it had clipped a surly, one-handed pirate. He had apologized to Hook and had not waited for the captain to reply.

"Please don't hate me," he muttered as he approached the park. The sun was only beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the pond. He quickly leaned down and dipped a hand into the water, hoping nobody noticed as he scrubbed at the dirt he knew was smudged on his face. "Please don't hate me."

For her part, Jasmine's legs were growing very stiff. The princess had been sitting on the park bench, staring down at the faded scarab for well over two hours. Perhaps passers-by had given her a few strange looks – she had not looked up much. After making it back to Regina's vault, Jasmine had told her that she needed to be alone, and had not wandered for long before slumping on this bench in defeat. Perhaps she could make it back to Agrabah on her own. Maybe she could still help her people. But that was only half of the mission. Finding Aladdin had been the other half.

Well, she had found him.

She had never mentioned it to Aladdin, but she had actually stolen the scarab to plant on him the first day that they met. It had been easy; under Jafar's control, her father had become complacent. The Sultan had left the scarab lying on a table in his bedroom. Later, when he noticed it missing, Aladdin was already long gone from the capital. Her father had not been as upset as she had thought he would be, choosing to walk away from her and calm down rather than shout his disappointment that she would give something so meaningful away.

"I'm sorry, father," she breathed, wiping impatiently at the tear tracks on her face. "I'm so, so sorry."

When he saw her, Aladdin slowed to a stop. He had been trying to think of a good way to do this for over two hours, but had come up blank. More than thirty-two years they had been apart. A simple tap on the shoulder was not going to suffice. Nor, for that matter, would any apology he could ever offer her.

Three times he tried to speak. Three times he choked on his words. In the end, he did not get a fourth chance.

The back of Jasmine's neck prickled and, after a solid five minutes of ignoring it, she finally looked up and to her right. His clothes were modern – baggy jeans, tee shirt – and his hair was unkempt, but she knew his eyes.

Aladdin froze.

Please don't hate me.

Jasmine opened her mouth to try to say something. His name, maybe. All she could manage, though, was an astonished laugh, and as she stood, a wonderstruck grin. The fear left Aladdin's wide eyes as they crinkled in a nearly face-splitting smile. Before he could fully process what was happening, the princess had barreled into his arms.

He caught her easily, lifting and spinning her, not caring who saw.

"I thought you were dead!" she cried breathlessly once he'd set her down. She pulled back far enough that she could see his face, her hand immediately cupping the side of it, thumb softly stroking his skin as it reassured her that he was real. He had come back.

Jasmine's eyes studied the features that she had been so scared she had lost, sweeping them over and over again. It was strange and wonderful and she could see the time that had passed in his eyes. But the way he smiled at her felt just like every other time he had.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Aladdin's voice was shaky, eyes shining, but his hands were steady on her back. When she shook her head he sensed disbelief and pulled her in again, more softly this time. One hand threaded through her soft, dark hair and he breathed deeply. Cinnamon. Her face was pressed into him, fitting with his neck and his collarbone perfectly. Aladdin held her like that for minutes on end. She was reluctant to pull back – she could have stayed there forever – but she did.

One of Aladdin's hands lingered on the princess's back, the other threading through the ends of her hair. He was close, he was so close.

A number of things happened then, all in mere seconds.

The world began to narrow. The sky, the sunset, the pond, the air folded inward until all that remained was the grass. There was vibrant green beneath them, breezy air around them, just the two of them and the breaths between them.

Wait, no! growled a voice in Jasmine's head – the assistant teacher voice. You stole the scarab, you searched for three decades, you have to save your people. There were so many things she had to tell him. Damn it, what is wrong with my heart? But the offending organ was strangely steady in its beating, and she would swear she could hear Aladdin's synchronizing with hers. His thumb drifted from her soft hair to brush her jaw. His hand was warm. He was warm.

Her hands rested on his upper arms, unsure of what else to do with themselves, though his left hand was resting gently but firmly on her back.

"So, what now?" It was banter, she knew it was. He was slowly drifting closer, eyes finally resting in their endless calculation. Aladdin always focused so intently with her. Yet, Jasmine could only think of…oh.

Oh.

"Now, you have to help me." She took a steadying breath. The princess used her hold on his arms to push herself back, putting as much distance between them as she could without stepping away. Trying to get away from those deep eyes as the peace within them shattered, splintering and scattering like fallen pomegranate seeds. She watched him wonder what he had done wrong. Only now did her heart pick up speed, and tempting as it was to try to take her words back, she knew it was too late. "Agrabah is in danger-we need a Savior."

Urgent as her tone was, Aladdin still found it within him to look up, over her head, and suck in a breath through his teeth. Suddenly, he was very glad that she had backed away. Perhaps now that he had leaned away as well, she would deem him outside of slapping range. For a moment he considered lying, but what good would that do?

"Yeah." He made an entire sentence of the word, eyes shifting as uncomfortably as his feet were inclined to do before finally finding hers again. "Um…about that…"

As ever, feedback is appreciated!