A/N: First of all I'm sorry for the long wait, I was abroad on an internship for three weeks and didn't have much time to myself. More recently someone I care for very much was admitted to hospital for an indefinite amount of time. I hope you've never been in the position of wondering whether every time you say goodbye to someone will be the last time, and if you have then I can only offer my sympathy and understanding. I know this is personal, but you leave such lovely reviews and I don't want to disappoint you without an explanation as to why I might not be up to scratch in this chapter. I don't want to disappoint you at all, of course, but I'm finding it difficult to be my best right now. I hope you can be patient with the short chapter, as well as its flaws. I am by no means abandoning the story; if anything, updates will be more frequent now that I'm back home and restricted in how often I can visit the hospital. I write to escape and to provide an escape for you guys, should you need it.

With my love,

- Bel

Hook felt vindicated when his path led to neat, manicured gardens. Not so unsuccessful after all, was he? He wished Emma was there so he could point out how wrong she had been. He wasn't a failure, and it bothered him an unreasonable amount that Emma of all people should think it of him. Well, he would show her. He would reach the Emerald City with time to spare.

After the drab land of Transylvania, Oz was almost painful to look at in its cheerful brightness. Hook had never been one for color, particularly after he had lost Milah, and so the palette borderline offended him. Even the birds were obnoxious in their tweeting, with almost incessant –

He stilled as a dry sob caught his ears. It was a small sound, scratchy and pathetic, but he was alert to any signs of danger. Best to keep walking; even if it wasn't a ploy to distract him from his destination, Hook didn't particularly want to stop and discuss feelings. Yet the volume of the sobbing increased as Hook passed by until it bordered on a hysterical scream. After a moment of wrestling with himself, Hook turned back and walked towards the crying heap, unsure if he was about to comfort or murder. He stepped off the yellow path and onto the soft grass, a tense hand on the hilt of his sword just in case.

The grass swallowed his footsteps, granting him silent movements, though he didn't feel as though he was the one in control of the situation. For one thing, he couldn't understand where the crying was coming from. Was someone hiding behind one of the trees? The only other things about was a pile of scrap metal and some fallen leaves, neither of which seemed likely culprits.

"I'm in need of direction," he called out, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He told himself that this was merely a ploy to lure someone out into the open; as a man – and more importantly, as a pirate – he would not admit to being lost, even when directions would prove to be useful.

Metal scraped against metal as the pile of what Hook had assumed to be scrap took on a life of its own. Through his alarm, he could make out arms, legs and even a head, at which he aimed his sword at before the creature was fully upright. Only then could the Captain appreciate what an oddity he had come across. A creation in the vague shape of a human that stood as tall as Hook himself. Hook stared at the creature, his sword stopped just short of scraping against the quivering metal. Judging by its disconcertingly human eyes, wide with fear, it was not out to attack.

"What are you?" Hook asked, continuing to level his sword even though he wasn't sure of how much damage it would do.

The creature drew in a shuddering gasp that rattled around in his chest.

"I, I-I…I, I-" He swallowed and tried again, exhibiting more terror than Hook had seen in man or beast. "I…I-I-I-"

Realizing the futility, Hook lowered the sword and took a step back. Relief flooded the thing's face as it straightened up. He slapped a hand to his hollow chest and took deep breaths until he was no longer on the verge of hyperventilation.

"What are you?" Hook repeated, this time more curious than forceful. "You look to be a man, yet you're not flesh."

The thing attempted a smile, though his lips still twitched horribly through fear. "I'm the Tin Man."

"That's a description, not a name," Hook said, ignoring the obvious irony.

"I don't have any other name than that," the Tin Man with an apologetic half-shrug. His joints screeched with the effort. "You're not going to cut me open, are you?"

Hook sheathed the weapon. "Not today, no." He eyed the creation with growing interest. There was no telling what information he might learn from it regarding Oz; he could at the very least try and discover a shortcut that would propel him ahead of Emma. "You're going to help me."

"I…I am?"

"Indeed."

Concern filled the Tin Man's eyes. "Oh, but I'm no use to anyone!"

So, that was how it was going to be. Interesting how little people knew one moment and then, with the right encouragement, could suddenly fill encyclopedias with knowledge in the next.

The Captain angled his hook in the vaguely threatening manner that he had long since learnt gained him what he wanted. "Now isn't the time for an attack of low self-esteem."

To his very great surprise, it did not have the intended effect of scaring the Tin Man into acquiescence. His eyes caught on the hook, certainly, but in keen interest rather than fear.

"You…you're made of metal too," the Tin Man said with a wobbly nod to the pirate's replacement hand.

Hook cast an unimpressed glance towards his namesake, irritated at the lack of impact. "Indeed I am. We're practically kin."

"Kin?" the Tin Man echoed softly. He sniffed. "I had kin, once."

To Hook's absolute horror the Tin Man began to wail again, tears flooding from his eyes at an alarming rate. Hook, entirely unused to crying fits, could only hover awkwardly. Had he caught the Tin Man at a particularly bad time or was the creature in an eternal state of melancholy? Neither were good indicators that Hook would receive directions anytime soon. Given that this was not a situation he could fight or flirt his way out of, Hook turned his attempts at empty-sounding consolations.

"Come now, you'll rust if you carry on like that."

"I once had a friend who was very smart," the Tin Man said, his voice hitching as more tears leaked from his eyes. "He found a way to stop me from ever rusting or needing oiling again."

Damn, thought Hook. There went his only non-violent method of making the creature stop. As he was considering how to extract himself from the situation with the information he needed, the Tin Man continued unbidden.

"All I ever wanted was a heart."

"A heart?" Hook repeated, confused. He recalled hundreds of nights wishing he could tear his own heart from his chest, certain that the gaping wound it left behind would be better than the pain of keeping it inside him. "Why would you want something like that?"

The Tin Man's tears dried as he became thoughtful.

"I can't remember anymore," he said, looking into the trees with a distant expression. "I think I wanted to feel love…but now I feel sad or happy or scared or angry, sometimes so strongly that I can't think straight. Is that love?"

After a hesitation and three hundred years' worth of memories crashing against each other in his mind, Hook nodded. "Aye. That's love."

"Oh." The Tin Man thought over the answer for a moment. "I thought it would be different. It hurts more than in the stories."

The admission, both naïve and terribly wise, threw Hook further than ever outside of his comfort zone.

"It isn't all sorrow," he said, trying for an unknown reason to vouch for the emotion that had all but destroyed him over the last three centuries. It unsettled him to realize that it was not Milah's face that swam behind his eyes as he considered the benefits of affection. He quickly focused on the memory of her face, replacing golden hair with black. "But I understand. I lost someone I loved. You can't just sit and cry about it all the time."

The Tin Man frowned at this new concept. "Well…what are you doing about it?"

Hook felt a dim echo of the self-importance that used to flow through him when he considered his life's purpose. "I'm getting my revenge on the demon who took her away from me," he said, grim determination setting his features.

"And then what?"

"And then I…" Hook stopped. He didn't have to explain himself to this metallic thing. What did it matter about his plans, or lack thereof, after he completed his mission? His voice took on a defensive edge. "And then I'll do something else."

The Tin Man had a rare flash of insight and tilted his head to the side as best he could, despair on his features.

"You don't have anything else to stay alive for? That's sadder than losing love in the first place."

Hook stared at the Tin Man, incredulous that he could elicit pity from such a piteous thing. Despite the complete lack of condescension in his tone, Hook felt his incredulity turn to anger. The Tin Man knew nothing, not about love and not about loss. He had gone to a Wizard just to feel something and had been given little more than a second-hand grasp of emotion for his effort. Granting emotion without the capacity of feeling more than one amplified thing at a time had been a cruel trick and Hook, his fury fading the longer he thought on this topic, wondered if it had been a deliberate move by the Wizard. After all, if the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was so powerful a man then how could his magic backfire so drastically? Unless, of course, that was the intention. He was beginning to sound like a genie; he would grant a wish but in a damaging way. Hook had never been foolish enough to deal with one of the creatures but he had heard the tales, and there were too many ways in which Emma's wish of being reunited with her son could go wrong. Best they stick to the plan of retrieving the ruby slippers, although Hook had no idea what they were used for. He had just taken it on faith that they would provide transport to Storybrooke.

Faith.

Since when had he implicitly trusted the word of another without as much as a question? He needed to take a step back from the situation, from Emma, and remember that they were in a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more.

(He refused to let his mind wander to other mutually beneficial arrangements they could engage in)

In order for a mutually beneficial arrangement to take place, it had to be…well, mutual. His time apart from Emma was proving more infuriating than being in her presence and it was the best thing for their mission – and his sanity – that they reunite as soon as possible. Hook focused back on the Tin Man.

"Well, this has been interesting," he said, using the kindest possible word given the situation, "but I have to go and prove someone wrong. What's the quickest way to the Emerald City? I'm meeting with the Wizard." He couldn't help adding a slightly bitter, "He's a whiz, apparently."

"Oh, he's a whiz alright," the Tin Man said miserably. "If ever a whiz there was."

"But you can't ask him to do anything about…" Hook trailed off, waving his hand at the Tin Man in place of finishing his sentence with the mess you're in.

"I don't know," the Tin Man admitted. "Every time I try to leave the forest I come across a baby bird that's fallen from its nest or flowers that have been trampled on and I just-" He tried and failed to stifle his tears at these tragedies. "If only I had the courage…but no, shouldn't ask for courage. Don't want to end up like the Lion."

Hook ignored his mutterings, more than half-convinced that the Tin Man was verging on incomprehensible insanity. This whole damn place was almost as mad as Wonderland and no less infuriating.

"The Emerald City, if you please."

The Tin Man lifted his head and blinked at Hook's curt and impatient tone. He gathered his thoughts quickly. "The quickest way is through the poppy fields, but it's dangerous."

"But quick," Hook said, making his way back down to the path. He did not trust the Tin Man's definition of dangerous considering he cried at the drop of a hat.

"Y-yes," the Tin Man said with a frown, "but you seem to have missed the part about the danger."

"No, I heard it perfectly. Field full of dangerous flowers and me without my pruning shears." Hook glanced back and, seeing the worry on the Tin Man's face, suppressed a sigh. "What's the danger?"

"The Wicked Witch of the West once cast a sleeping draught on the poppies and some of the poison still lingers in the buds," the Tin Man said quickly before Hook could change his mind about caring. "But you can avoid it. There's a pathway around the poppy fields that'll add barely half a day to your journey."

"Half a day?" Hook repeated, dismayed. What if the path Emma had taken led her around the poppy fields, or even worse bypassed them completely? She would reach the Emerald City ahead of him, and he could just picture her expression when he arrived hours later than her all because he wasn't able to run through a few flowers. "I can't afford to lose that much time."

"Oh, but you'll lose so much longer if the poison gets you!"

"If," Hook repeated, a grin already forming at the thought of the challenge. "A word dependent on luck and skill. It's lucky I'm so skilful." With a hundred plans already racing through his mind, he relished the feel of solid brick underneath his boots. "Cheers for the help, mate."

He almost meant it.