Emma's hands shook as she trudged through the darkened forest, twigs and fallen acorns snapping beneath the weight of her steps. What the hell was that? Her mind was reeling at everything that had just happened. She'd used magic again, and it had knocked her unconscious. It felt like someone had attached a vacuum to her life force - all of the energy was just sucked out of her without so much as a moment's notice.

She hadn't even been trying to use magic, and she felt like she'd been violated because it had happened against her will - again. A pit was beginning to form in her stomach as she realized that the price for using it this time had cost her much more than it had at the portal. She replayed everything - any detail about the events leading up to it - she could remember.

Cora had held her motionless, and then Killian had been discovered and thrown against the tree. And then... and then she'd tried to take his heart. The agonized sound of Killian's cries echoed in her ears anew. She'd been hurting him so much. Emma just wanted it to stop; she couldn't bear another second of seeing him - hearing him in such pain. And then she was unconscious.

It had been Killian, or, rather, her reaction to seeing his features twist in agony as Cora threatened to tear the heart from his chest. He was the reason her magic had activated. Emma stopped walking and pressed a palm to her abdomen, trying to still the maelstrom of emotions currently battling inside her.

She pushed the fear and confusion from her mind and instead tried to recall what happened after she regained consciousness. She remembered hearing what sounded like sharp cracks of thunder, and she could discern pulses of bright light through her still closed eyelids. The first thing she saw when she finally managed to force her eyes open was his face. Killian had been kneeling over her. And... and Cora and Gold were throwing spells at each other, and - Gold! Gold had been there.

But how did he find us? How did he know where we were? Who had... Ruby. The only other person in town that knew about Killian was Ruby. She had to have said something to Gold. The man was good at being abreast of everyone's business, but even he wasn't all-knowing.

Emma started forward again, trying her best not to jump to conclusions about what Ruby had or hadn't done but finding that betrayal-fueled anger was welling up inside her anyway. She forced her mind away from what was quickly turning into a very steep downward spiral of possibly misplaced rage and resumed thinking about all that had just happened with Cora.

Okay, so Gold was there. And then Killian stabbed Cora. But she knew there was more to it than that. Why had he screamed? And then Cora's words hit her. "You... chose... her..." He'd chosen her? Chosen what? He stabbed Cora. What other option did he ha- Gold. His crocodile. He'd been right there...

Killian could have gotten his revenge, but he didn't. Why? What reason could he have had for using the blade on Cora instead of the man he'd been hunting for three centuries? Unless... unless he'd been trying to protect her. Cora would have undoubtedly killed Emma had she survived the battle with Gold, but she would have most likely spared Killian if he'd saved her life.

Emma suddenly felt nauseous. She quickened her pace, stumbling onto the roughly paved road in another several steps. She needed to find Ruby.

God, I hope she's got a bottle of something strong...

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Killian turned the telescope over in his hand absentmindedly, his neck angled awkwardly against the headboard of the bed and his legs stretched completely out in front of him. He'd lost track of how long he'd been laying there; his stomach had stopped begging for sustenance hours ago, finally reaching the point where it no longer made sound - all attempts at conveying hunger now abandoned.

His one chance to exact vengeance on Milah's killer was now gone. Rumplestiltskin would never be so vulnerable again, and, even if he was, Killian had used the last drops of squid ink to subdue Cora. Without it there was no conceivable way to kill the crocodile. He didn't have the Dark One's blade, but even if he did... he'd been warned of what would happen were he to use it.

No, there was no way to kill the beast without becoming one himself. Or, rather, becoming more of one. He sneered in disgust at what he'd turned into. What would Milah think of me? He clutched his fingers tighter around the barrel of the spyglass. The rage that had been fueling him was gone, replaced by a feeling of defeated indifference - toward everything. Toward Gold. Toward himself. Toward life.

He couldn't do just this one thing right. He'd managed to fail just as he had three hundred years ago. He couldn't protect Milah then, and he couldn't avenge her death now. You're a pathetic excuse for a man...

He didn't remember falling asleep, but as he looked around the cabin - now illuminated by golden rays of sunlight - he knew upwards of eight hours must have passed. When he moved his neck a sharp twinge of pain shot down his spine; sleeping in the unnatural position had taken its toll on his muscles.

He swung his legs over the ledge of the mattress and forced himself to standing, pressing his palm into the base of his neck and stretching his chin to either side in an attempt to work out one of the knots. The table in front of him had papers strewn all over, save for the space he'd cleared when he was tending to Emma's wounds.

He strode over and rested his weight on the hook while he used his other hand to re-separate the pile of drawings and documents he'd stacked. His fingers lingered on one in particular - the one depicting Rumplestiltskin's blade. If only there was a way... But there wasn't - at least not one that would leave him human.

He set the paper aside and stalked out of the room, impotent rage consuming his mind.

Rum. He needed rum.

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"Ruby, what the hell?!" Emma stormed through the front door of the inn, hands gesturing wildly at the air in front of her.

Ruby cocked her head to the side and sat up a little straighter. "I'm sorry, I don't follow," she replied in a puzzled tone.

"You told Gold about Killian." Ruby's expression only became more confused. "...Didn't you?"

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Ruby stood up and maneuvered her body around the desk between them, crossing her arms over her chest and dipping her chin in apprehension. "What's going on?"

The girl wasn't lying; of that Emma was sure. A deep crease appeared on the patch of skin between her eyebrows. "You really don't have any idea." It was almost a question. Then, more seriously, "Grab something with alcohol in it. You're gonna need it." Emma sighed heavily and plopped down on the nearby chair, extending her legs in front of her and wishing she was anywhere else.

Emma told Ruby the abridged version of the events that took place the previous night, and - in between interruptions of "Emma!" and "What?!" - eventually made it to the end of the story. Ruby took a pensive sip of the liquor she'd poured herself at Emma's initial suggestion, eyes fixated on some unimportant spot on the floor.

"The other day. It must have been the other day when Killian came to visit you. After he left, Rumple showed up - not even two minutes later. He came in through the back, and I didn't even hear him until he was right behind me. I was going to tell you when I brought you your clothes, but then you just seemed so stressed-"

Emma palmed the air soothingly in an effort to allay Ruby's concerns. "It's fine, Ruby." She let her hand drop heavily to her thigh. "I actually think the only reason I'm alive right now is because he intervened."

"Woah," Ruby breathed out, eyebrows lifting in shock.

Though she was happy to still have a pulse, Emma felt uneasy. "Yeah. But... why?"

Ruby leaned forward in her chair, cradling the drink between her palms and coming to rest both forearms on her knees. "Sounds like a question for Rumplestiltskin."

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What's the bloody point? Killian knocked back another mouthful of the liquid fire, his head already feeling light from consuming half a handle of crudely distilled rum. Nothing mattered anymore. Three centuries of planning... for what?

Without the blasted squid ink there wasn't a way to kill the beast. Well, that wasn't entirely true, but Killian couldn't bear the thought of turning himself into the very monster he was trying to kill.

But what if... The alcohol lubricated gears in his head began turning, picking up speed as each subsequent piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Killian re-corked the glass container and set it down on the worn wooden planks of the table with a resolute thud. He would skin his crocodile yet...

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"Gold." The dainty bell chimed violently as Emma threw open the door to the shop. "You wanna tell me what happened last night?" It was more of a command than a question, and Gold turned around slowly at the sound of her voice, an empty smile firmly etched in his features.

"It's quite simple, really." His eyebrows shot up. "I saved your life, dearie."

Though about a million more questions invaded her thoughts at his answer, she didn't allow herself to become distracted. "How did you know about Cora?" Emma continued flatly.

"Perhaps you should talk to your one-handed friend about that." He quipped, tone dangerously level, the hint of a threat veiled just under the surface.

Emma's patience was wearing thin. She didn't know why this was bothering her so much - not knowing how or why Gold had become involved. "Enough! How did you find us, Gold?"

"Pushy today, aren't we?" "Very well. I happened to see Hook-" the use of his moniker unsettled Emma, and her top lip ticked imperceptibly in disgust at the man who had taken Killian's hand in the first place "-leaving the inn yesterday when I came to collect the rent. It wasn't hard to figure out that he didn't come to Storybrooke alone, and a simple tracking spell revealed Cora's location."

Something wasn't adding up to Emma. It seemed out of character for Gold to simply walk into a fight. That wasn't his style. He fought his battles behind the scenes, normally before they even started. It was why he was so dangerous. "Why confront her?" she asked slowly, each word connected by the confusion in her tone.

"I had a feeling she might want you dead," he took a step closer to Emma, "and we can't have that." His accent rang thick in the words.

Her head moved back cautiously, instinctively. "What are you playing at, Gold?"

"Let's just say..." he paused, looking at the ground for inspiration, "you're valuable - alive. And you still owe me a favor." His face contorted into a momentary sneer at the final word, and Emma gulped down her unease.

Her eyes narrowed softly, and she decided she'd had just about enough of Gold for one day. "Stay away from Killian," she cautioned before making her way back toward the entrance of the cluttered shop.

"You should listen to your own advice, Ms. Swan," he called after her, and she heard the almost threat in the words, just as before.

Emma stopped on the spot, cocked her head to the side and, as she was still facing the door, asked, "Does Belle know?"

"What?" He breathed out a laugh, begrudgingly humoring her seemingly random inquiry.

"About Milah." She turned to face him, eyes cold with warning. "About how you killed your own wife."

The mask of civility shattered, and suddenly Emma was staring at the Rumplestiltskin so many in this town feared. "Who told you- never mind." His open mouth quirked to the side, and he re-settled his weight on the cane, bringing his tormented gaze up to meet her own. "That is none of your business, Ms. Swan."

Emma felt the warmth leave her veins, but she kept up the hardened facade. "Stay away from Killian," she repeated, this time with more force. Her heart was racing in her chest as she turned on her heel abruptly and wrenched the door back open, the bell chiming noisily again.

"Think about what you're doing, Emma." His voice was low and menacing as it reached her ears, and she blamed the shiver that ran up her spine on the winter breeze.