Killian slowly lowered his arms, still gasping, and then he patted his hands - and there were two of them - up and down his body as if to reassure himself that he wasn't riddled with bullets. He exhaled loudly, trying to distance himself from the last few moments that preceded this place.

He, Emma, Regina and Robin had tried to make a break from the prison, stealing a food delivery van. They had nearly made the perimeter with Emma at the wheel when she drove over a broken bottle on the road, puncturing the tire and causing them to veer, drawing the attention of the guards at the gate, who opened fire. He'd felt the bullets rip into him, remembered the feel of the windshield shattering and spraying him with glass, the horror he felt as Emma's body slumped over into his arms...

He shuddered. Then he ran a hand over his face, then tried to get his bearings.

He was in a box.

Or maybe it was a wardrobe or a closet of some kind. The wood-paneled walls left him very little room to sit on the hard wooden bench within. In one wall there appeared to be a grate - like a window of sorts, most likely to add ventilation in the closed space. And what the devil was he wearing? He glanced down at the unrelieved black, but not his familiar leather. These clothes were more modern but not anything like what he would have chosen for himself. The neckline was too tight. He stuffed finger into the collar, pulling it out from his neck and feeling like it was choking him.

He heard a door close somewhere close by, and realized the sound came through the grate. He leaned in to look through, and was startled to hear a very familiar voice say, "Uh...father? Are you there?"

He had no idea what to say to that, so he simply replied, "I'm here."

"Oh. Good. Sorry, I'm not normally Catholic. I mean...I'm not Catholic at all, but I was with a foster family for awhile that was. They were really good people."

"I...see."

"And I could really use some guidance here and I'm sort of at a stuck place in my life, so I figured, what the hell, right?"

"Right."

"Oh! Sorry. Didn't mean to say 'hell,'" Emma apologized.

"That's quite all right," Killian said, still not sure where this was going.

"Yeah, I guess you hear that word from time to time in your line of work," she said. "Anyway, sorry if I'm breaking protocol - I'm not really sure how this is done, father..."

"Killian."

"Father Killian." She took in a deep breath. "It's just that lately, I've been thinking about my life and I just think...there's got to be more for me. Somewhere, somehow...I just feel like I was meant for more than...this."

"You feel...unfulfilled?"

"Yes!" she answered, her voice gusting with exasperation. "I've spent my whole life feeling as though something was supposed to happen, y'know? But when? And how? And...and with who?"

He knew he should be trying to wake her up, but an unguarded, talkative Emma was such a revelation, he couldn't help but go with it.

"You feel as though there's someone out there for you?" he offered.

He heard her slump against the wall. "I don't know. Probably not."

"You need to have faith," he said. "Sometimes that might be all that's getting you through, but you do need to have it."

"You really believe I can find someone to love?"

"I do. And I believe that you'll find someone who loves you with everything inside him."

"I wish I had your kind of faith."

"And furthermore, I believe you'll move to a town called Storybrooke."

"Huh?"

"You'll find a family and a home, and a man who will love you. I promise."

Finally, he saw her face as she peered into the grate. "What are you? Some kind of fortune-telling priest or something?"

"A priest!" He glanced down at himself in surprise. "Bloody hell, is that what I am?"

Emma's indrawn breath was the only sound for a moment, then her voice came tenatively through.

"Killian?"

"Emma? Are you with me, love?"

She put her fingers through the grate. "Yeah. I'm in the groove now."

"You dreamed me a priest?"

"Must've been something I ate. No more nacho night at Granny's."

He opened his door, stepping out and around and then opened hers. She smiled up at him.

"Nice touch, by the way," she said, standing up. "Telling me to have faith that I wouldn't always feel so unfulfilled."

"I'd be happy to fulfill you right now, if you'd like," Killian said, raising a devilish brow and stepping inside with her, closing the door behind him.

"Are you kidding? We're in a church and you're dressed like a priest."

"Sounds like an adventure," he murmured, just before his lips met hers and his hands pulled her hips against his tightly.

She laughed against his lips. "Oh my," she breathed. "You are ready to accommodate."

"With you? Always."

She kissed him again. "But even I'm not crass enough to get it on in a church," she said, pulling away reluctantly. "Come on. Let's find our way out of here."

He twisted the knob at his back and when he opened the door, they stepped out into a large, palatial hall instead of a community parish.

"What the hell...?" Emma said. "This isn't where I came from."

Killian gestured down with his hook. "And I'm a pirate again," he said, indicating his leather greatcoat and pants. "Much less constricting, I assure you."

"Does this look familiar to you?" she asked, staring down at herself in dismay.

"Vaguely." He glanced around. "We seem to be in a manor house of some sort, and from the look of your corset, I'd say we're in the Enchanted Forest. We just need to figure out exactly where...and when."

He twined his fingers with her, pulling her along through a doorway, only to run smack into a woman who was coming through the doorway at the same time. She staggered back a few steps in surprise and Killian let go of Emma's hand to reach out and steady her.

"Killian!" she exclaimed, and her face broke into a smile. "I didn't realize you were in port! But what are you thinking, coming here? He's sure to see you."

Killian froze a moment, then he rubbed his ear uncomfortably. "Hello, Adelaide," he said.

"Alannis," she corrected, and her eyes narrowed, leveling on Emma.

"Who's this?"

Emma backed up, raising her hands. "I'm nobody. I'll just...wait outside."

"Swan..."

"Killian." Alannis was clearly not happy with this scenario. "After all this time, you finally pay me a visit and you have the gall -"

"Now, Alannis," he said, pasting on a charming grin. "You know I hold you in the highest regard -"

Emma made a snorting sound behind him and his smile faltered, but he kept going. "I hold you in the highest regard and of course, I had to see you. And now I have and it's time for me to find my ship. So if you'd be good enough to direct me back to the dock -"

"ALANNIS!"

A thundering voice came from the doorway at the other end of the room, and they all turned to look.

"Bloody hell," Emma said under her breath, stealing the words from Killian's lips. The man in the other doorway was so big, he had to duck to get in. His shoulders were so massive, he had to turn sideways to do it, as well. Every inch of him seemed to be covered in hair, and now...now he was growling.

"I knew you'd come back," the man seethed. "You won't seduce my wife - or any man's wife - ever again!" He started toward Killian, who was backing toward the open doorway, shooting a mildly panicked glance in Emma's direction.

Alannis only wanted to know one thing. "Who's she?" she asked again, pointing at Emma.

"Another pretty piece, no doubt." the man sneered.

"Hey!" Emma took immediate offense. "The name is Emma."

"Emma," the man mocked. "Surely a high-born lady he found on a dock somewhere. Does he think to play with you both?"

"You keep your slanderous tongue off her name, " Killian said, his face darkening. He brought his hook up. "I have no current quarrel with you. We happened upon your manor in error, and we'll be going now."

"You're not going anywhere," the man said, crossing his massive arms across his barrel of a chest. "Fetch my sword, Alannis."

She hurried off and Killian called after her, "Alannis! Don't be that way!"

Emma elbowed him in the side. "Watch it," she said.

"Look," Killian said, "What we have here is a misunderstanding. I'd be happy to explain-"

"Fight me, you bastard pirate!"

"Hey!" Emma stepped forward. "You don't get to call him names, either."

"You'll scurry back to the wharf with the other whores if you know what's good for you," the man said. "This is between the scurvy pirate and me."

"I happen to have excellent hygiene!" Killian protested. "And I'm not going to warn you again - insult her at your peril." He felt Emma's hand on his arm and let out a sigh. "Look, I'm not going to fight you, mate. Alannis is your woman."

"Damn right she is!" the man affirmed. "But this isn't just about her and you know it. There's a matter of a missing silver chalice to discuss."

"Ah," Killian said with dawning recognition. "That Alannis."

Emma's jaw dropped. "How many were there?"

"Two...perhaps three. It was a long time ago," he said, trying to shrug it off with a smile. "All well past, love."

She gave him a look and he rubbed his ear again. "And as for the chalice...well, I'm afraid I have no idea where it is."

"Excuse me!" A voice came from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt - I have the wool for the spinners."

"Set it down over there," the big man gestured. "And see the steward for your pay."

"Thank you."

"Now, then," the big man said, gesturing again to someone behind Killian. "Let's see how you like being locked away until the magistrate can deal with you."

Alannis stepped forward, handing the man his sword, which he pointed at Killian's throat. Killian backed up, raising a hand. "Let's not be hasty, here..." he said.

"No, you should go with him," Emma said firmly. "You've led a life of crime, and it's time you faced justice."

Killian's head whipped around to look at her, and he raised an incredulous brow. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Let them lock you up, repent your wicked ways and maybe somebody might just come along with a key." She held his eyes meaningfully, but he still wasn't getting it. Not until she slid her eyes sideways, and he couldn't help the startled laugh that broke from his lips.

David stood in the corner, unloading a sack of wool, whistling as he worked, with his long, flowing golden locks falling around his face.

"Move!" the big man barked. "I'll lock you in smokehouse until the magistrate can send the jailer for you."

"Behave yourself," Emma said in a low voice as Killian started to move, with the fair Alannis not far behind.

He gave her a long-suffering look over his shoulder, and she turned back toward David.

"Time to talk to my hippie father," she said.