Hi everyone!
Thought I'd give you guys one more update before my finals officially start :D So, I think this story is nearing its end, but don't worry, there's plenty of things still happening before it ends :D So, I am very curious, since I promise, we will be reconnecting to the beginning of the story (remember our handsome lieutenant and lovely Swan ;) ;)) very soon. So, I wanna know what you guys think might happen that will help our babies remember their past.
Because, I do officially state that the Curse that keeps them from remembering their first marriage did NOT break when Emma broke the Curse on Storybrooke.
Theories on that, my sweets?
Oh, I promise, if you get me up to forty reviews for this chapter too, I'll ditch studying and write the next chapter for you ;)
Please, R&R!
Love,
Annaelle
PS Reviews are like Killian Jones; they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and grin like a loon :D
PPS Beta'd by the amazing DancingDoula and JustSmileBFF :)
Xx Annaelle
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Across Time And Space
The Jolly Roger, Neverland
(Two Weeks Later)
The air is thick, humid, heavy with despair.
Everyone aboard the Jolly is tired (and why wouldn't they be, after daily explorations of the jungle and being kept awake at night by the cries of the Lost Boys) and they've been arguing more and more, about the littlest and stupidest of things.
Emma is suffering most out of all of them, and everyone knows it.
While it's obvious Rumpelstiltskin couldn't care less about Emma's health or her state of mind, everyone else is very worried—Mary-Margret is still baffled by how much Regina seems to care—actually stopping their arguments long enough to try to come with a way to help Emma cope.
Both mentally and physically.
The long treks through the jungle are especially hard on Emma, with the first real pregnancy symptoms making an appearance—Emma's tired all the time.
It's obvious.
"There has to be something we can do," Mary-Margret pleads desperately, "Emma can't keep doing this much longer—there has to be a way to narrow down the area to search, a way to locate where they are." She and Charming exchange a worried glance; Emma's insistence on day-long explorations and a break-neck pace might actually lead to her miscarrying the baby, and Mary-Margret's sure Emma wouldn't survive losing the baby too.
"We've been over this," Regina grumbles, "I want to find Henry just as much as Emma does—but my mother is a very accomplished witch, and whoever she's working with has a way of blocking our magic!"
"She's going to lose the baby," Mary-Margret exclaims, "She's going to push herself too far trying to find Henry and lose the baby—we can't let that happen!" She's terrified for Emma's sake, and she's convinced her daughter can't make sound decisions while grieving her husband.
"Well, I, for one, wouldn't at all mourn the loss of the pirate's filthy spawn," Rumpelstiltskin casually mentions, leaning back in his chair with a completely inappropriate grin.
"Papa!" Neal exclaims angrily, "We're talking about a child's life—this is no place for your petty grudges." Everyone turns to stare at Neal—honestly, all he'd really shown interest in over the past two weeks was getting close to Emma—unsure of what to say after that outburst.
It had been rather obvious, from the first second on the ship, that Neal had convinced himself that Emma would want him, now that Colin is gone.
When Mary-Margret and David had decided to tell the others on the ship about Emma's pregnancy, Neal had immediately withdrawn from the group, sulking and grumbling and refusing to talk to anyone—Mary-Margret couldn't help but compare him to a toddler who'd been told the toy he wanted already belonged to someone else.
He had even pouted!
"Okay," David drawls uncomfortably, "Back to the subject. There has to be something we can do to make sure Emma doesn't push herself too far. We can't stop her from helping us find Henry, but we need to find a way to make it easier on her."
"No, you don't," Emma's voice suddenly interjects, making everyone jump—except for Rumpelstiltskin—and look away guiltily. Emma's standing behind them, her arms crossed protectively across her stomach, her brow furrowed and her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Emma continues, "And my baby. I don't need all of you talking behind my back like I'm a fragile little puppet just waiting to break!"
"Emma, we're just worried about you," David pleads, eying the dark circles under Emma's eyes nervously, "You haven't been sleeping well an—" Once again, they're interrupted.
But not by Emma this time.
"Well, well, would you look at that," the young, pretty blonde who just appeared right behind Emma sneers, her pretty face twisting into a displeased scowl, "here I was hoping to welcome captain Jones back… Instead I find you lot. Rumpelstiltskin. Baelfire." She glares at father and son, and if looks could have killed…
"Tink," Neal smiles, a tad uncomfortable, fidgeting in his seat, "Long time, no see…"
The girl—Tinkerbell, really?—crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. "Not long enough. What are you doing back here? I thought you were too busy running from your dear Papa to stay in one place for too long."
Emma sees Neal wince slightly and her eyes widen—she's never seen him this … Vulnerable before. It's both amusing and terrifying to see—and yet, the most dominant feeling as she watches the interaction is relief.
Maybe he'll be too preoccupied with Tinkerbell to bother her anymore.
"Come on, Tink," he cajoles, "are you still on that? It's been like thirty years… More even."
Tink narrows her eyes at him and tilts her head to the side. "Like I said, Bae. Not nearly long enough."
Emma rolls her eyes and steps forward, promptly dragging Tink's attention to her—and her tiny baby bump, apparently—instead. "We're here to find my son," she sighs when both Regina and Neal cough pointedly, "our son. He was kidnapped and we know she took him here."
Tink raises an eyebrow at Emma, dismissing her with a cold, "And I care, because?"
Emma nearly growls in frustration, aggressively taking another step forward, standing nose to nose with the blonde fairy, "I don't give a crap about whatever happened between you and him," she gestures towards Neal angrily, "when he was here last time—for all I care you were lovers and he cheated on you, or tried to kill you or whatever—he's here to help us find Henry, and that's all I care about. Now, if you're not going to help, get the fuck off my ship before I make you."
For a long, tense second, there's tense, shocked silence on the ship, before Tink bursts into delighted peals of laughter, clapping her hands excitedly, tapping her index finger on Emma's nose playfully, "Oh, I like you," she giggles, "You're a tough cookie, aren't you?" She glances over at the others and grins, "I like this one. She's fun."
Emma rolls her eyes again and takes a step back, away from the now slightly hyperactive fairy. Tink doesn't seem too bothered by the gesture and claps her hands together again. "Very well, I'll help you—I can show you where Pan usually keeps his prisoners, since I'm assuming he's the one keeping your son." She frowns a little, "Did they come through a portal, like you?"
David shoots her a startled look and blurts, "How on earth do you know how we got here?"
Regina snorts derisively and shakes her head, "She's a fairy. She can sense it. The ship's probably still covered in its magic."
"Yes, I can," Tink nods enthusiastically, before turning back to Emma, "And I can sense that baby of yours too… It's got a lot of magic—pure magic, that is. I haven't felt anything like it before."
Four startled voices chorus, "What?" at Tink, every single one of them staring at the little fairy, Emma covering her small bump with her hand protectively.
Rumpelstiltskin tilts his head to the side and giggles in a high, goose bump-inducing pitch, gesturing wildly as he exclaims, "Well, of course. Its mother is the Product Of True Love—if Miss Swan over there was the pirate's True Love, which seems to be the case, that child would be even more magically potent than she is. True Love mixing with True Love. Purest, most powerful magic there is."
Emma sinks down onto a chair as she tries to process yet another revelation, rubbing her small bump absent-mindedly. While the others continue questioning Tink and Rumple on the subject, Emma tries to relax a little—they have an ally now, someone who knows the island (and not just from a few decades ago, like Neal), someone who can help them find Henry faster.
"Okay," she interrupts suddenly, refocusing her attention on the fairy, "You said you could show us where Pan keeps his prisoners. So show us."
"It's too far to walk now," Tink smiles gently. "You," she looks pointedly at Emma, "should get some rest while the rest of you gather supplies so you can keep going for a bit in the jungle—if your boy isn't at the first base, we'll need to keep going over land rather than return to the ship. You will need to sleep as much as you can now. I'll come back to get you at sunrise."
"Okay."
Everyone looks shocked at Emma's lack of arguing, but no one protests when she announces she'll be going to bed right away, and to wake her when they need her.
"I'll be taking my leave too," Tink announces, "Do not wake her before dawn tomorrow—I cast some fairy dust onto her so she would sleep dreamlessly and peacefully. She needs the rest." And with that, she hops onto the railing, waving at them cheerfully before jumping off, disappearing into a puff of glittering smoke.
"So now we're committing to following a fairy around," Regina deadpans. "Lovely."
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His head is pounding, and he feels sick—he only has a vague recollection of the events that transpired before he passed out, but something is niggling in the back of his mind, insisting to be heard, insisting that he needs to remember.
He tries to open his eyes, tries to blink, but his eyelids refuse to cooperate and his mind feels thick and sluggish. He cannot focus—he cannot pin down the sounds around him; he has no idea where he is or what happened.
Confused, he tries to blink, to get a look at his surroundings, but his eyes simply refuse to cooperate.
Still fazed, he tries to remember how he got here—wherever 'here' is. Memories suddenly flash before his eyes at a sickening pace. His brother scratching his arm with the poison, dying in his arms.
The boy, Pan, offering him a cure.
Sailing the ship back to the Enchanted Forest.
Liam. Soldiers.
Liam…
Jukes hitting him on the head because he wouldn't stop struggling to get to Liam as the soldiers took him away.
Sharp pain. Fading light. Darkness.
Nothing.
He sucks in a deep breath, trying to alleviate the dizziness and the pounding in his head. Why is this happening to him? To Liam?
They had never been anything less than devoted subjects to their King.
Why would he suddenly turn on them? First the assignment to have them collect deadly poison, then the treason charges against Liam…
What on earth is going on?
He can figure all that out later—now… Now he needs to work up the courage and the strength to open his eyes and face the demon their King turned out to be.
He needs to be awake and alert to help his brother.
He lets a sigh fall from his lips, gathers all the strength and courage he can muster, and blinks.
Once. Twice.
Slowly, his surroundings come into focus, though the relentless throbbing his head makes it hard to focus on anything—he recognizes his own room in Liam and Prue's townhouse, and realizes the crew must have brought him here after they knocked him out.
Snapping from his thoughts, he looks down, frowning at the red bloodstain on his otherwise pristinely white shirt (there's another thing; why is he still in his complete uniform?). The house is entirely silent—too silent, almost—and a feeling of dread settles deep in the pit of his stomach.
The door opens, and Prue steps into the room, eyeing him warily.
"Prue," Killian rasps, slightly taken aback by the dry, scratchy state of his throat. "What happened? Where's Liam?" He looks around the room, once again confused by the unusual silence in the house.
"Liam's in the castle's dungeons," Prue responds calmly, pushing him back down on the bed, "his execution is scheduled for tomorrow at dawn."
"Execution?!" Killian exclaims, shooting up and out of the bed, "What the bloody hell is going on? Liam cannot be executed—he's done nothing wrong!" He stares at his sister-in-law, unable to comprehend why she's so calm about this—her husband's going to be killed and she's just sitting there like nothing's wrong.
Prue smiles sadly and reaches out to pat his arm, as though that would serve to calm him, to stop him from reeling about the injustice of this all. "You really didn't know, did you?" she says softly, her dark, sad eyes studying him intently.
"Didn't know what?" Killian spits, "That our King was a vengeful bastard? No, I did not know that!"
"Killian," Prue scolds (he supposes he should be nicer about the King, he is Prue's great-uncle after all), "That is not true. Sit, there is much I must tell you, and the King will only allow you to see Liam to make your peace with him once—in an hour."
"Where is Rose?" He questions, sinking down onto his bed, his mind whirring with the implications of Liam's arrest and scheduled execution—he simply wants something familiar, something known, and hugging his sweet, darling little niece will help him calm down.
It always does.
Prue's eyes tear up, and the dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach grows. Prue whispers, "My Uncle called me to him after you left… He told me he had received word from a trusted source, that Liam felt trapped in our marriage, and took our daughter. He said Liam hired someone to have me killed so he would could take my inheritance, Rose and you and leave this kingdom."
"Prue," Killian whispers, unable to wrap his mind around the ridiculous story, "Prue, where's Rose?"
"I don't know," she breathes, tears rolling down her cheeks, "She disappeared the same day you and Liam left on your mission."
"Liam didn't take her," Killian chokes, "Prue, he loves you, you know that."
Prue shakes her head, burying her face in her hands as a heartbreaking sob falls from her lips. "I have no idea what to believe anymore. The King showed me documents—Liam's signature was on it, and I—Rose is gone, and no one saw her leave and—" Killian watches as Prue folds in on herself, his heart—that is already raw and battered after nearly seeing Liam die because of the King's deceit—shatters for her.
He does not blame her.
The King is much like a father to her—she loves Rose with all that she has; if the King truly had shown her forged documents with Liam's signature, he cannot fault her for believing the evidence.
Had he not seen the King's deceit firsthand, he might not have believed it either.
Slowly, he kneels before Prue, taking both of her hands in his. "Prue, it is a lie. Liam loves you, more than anything—he didn't take Rose. I don't know who did, but…" he chokes and continues, "Liam did not do anything that warrants this punishment. The King, however…"
Prue calms slightly, staring at him as he relays his and Liam's adventures in Neverland, stuttering and choking through the moments he had thought he'd lost his brother, carefully describing the odd feeling of forgetfulness he and Liam had both experienced upon first returning to the Enchanted Forest.
"Prue," he says urgently, "The King lied—he sent us on a mission to acquire a deadly poison, masking it as a cure for all ill; when it somehow came to his attention that we knew of his deceit, he targeted you and made you believe your husband had turned against you." He clutches at her hands tightly, eyes imploring her to believe him, to trust him.
"But if he lied," Prue breathes shakily, tears still drying on her pale skin, "then where's Rose? If Liam didn't take her, who did?" Killian shrugs helplessly, seeing his own desperation and worry and fear mirrored in Prue's dark eyes—he does not know how their lives broke and fell apart so easily and so quickly, but he does know that he will do whatever it takes to make sure they will all make it out of this mess.
Together.
They're a family. They stick together, they fight for each other and they never give up.
"We'll find her," he says softly, "We'll find her, Prue. We'll get Liam out, and we will find Rose, and we'll find another kingdom, somewhere we can live safely—without the King coming after us. We'll have a happy ending. All of us."
He almost believes his own words.
Almost.
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Neverland Jungle
(Several Days Later)
So far, following a fairy around hasn't done a lot more for them than their daily explorations of the jungle did. Tink had led them to one of Pan's so-called prisoner camps, but upon their arrival, it had been fairly easily to conclude it had been abandoned a long time ago.
Gold long since lost his patience with them and announced he'd be conducting his own investigation, only meeting up with them at night, when they're setting up camp.
With a flick of her wrist, Regina conjures a large tent, gesturing Emma towards it impatiently. She and Snow have been relentless in forcing Emma to sleep at night and making sure she's eating enough—though Regina does not particularly like Emma or her now-late husband, she does respect them, and she can clearly see how much Emma loves Henry and how much he loves her and the pirate in return.
She knows Henry would never forgive her if she let anything happen to Emma too.
"Regina, I'm fine," Emma whines petulantly, "I don't need you and Mary-Margret hovering over me like two overprotective mother hens."
"Well, suck it up, princess," Regina rolls her eyes, "Go get some rest. You're not going to be of any use to us or Henry if you're dead on your feet." She points towards the tent, glaring at Emma sternly, refusing to back down because the pregnant Savior decided to behave like a four-year-old at bedtime.
"Ugh," Emma grumbles, stomping towards the tent, "Fine."
Regina watches her disappear into the tent with vague amusement, shaking her head and vowing to herself never to let her hormones rule her like that if she were ever to fall pregnant.
She catches sight of Tinkerbell leaning against the tree, casually observing the UnCharmings as they bicker quietly over something undoubtedly stupid, while Neal stares at the tent she just conjured for Emma longingly.
She rolls her eyes.
It's pathetic.
A blind person would see that Emma has eyes for none but the pirate—she does not know what happened between her and Rumple's son, but whatever it is, the boy is clearly still holding out hope. For what, she does not know.
Clearly, it is not True Love.
Emma and the pirate are one of the most obvious True Love couples Regina has ever seen, and considering she knows Snow White and Prince Charming, that is saying something.
"Man," Tink (who suddenly appears right next to her) says, "He looks like he could use some fairy dust. Might actually realize he needs to lay off Emma."
Regina snorts unattractively and shakes her head. "Unfortunately, fairy dust does not solve heart ache that easily."
Tink raises an eyebrow at her, giving her a sardonic smile. "Yes, you would know, wouldn't you?"
Regina rolls her eyes exasperatedly, glaring at the fairy from the corner of her eye. "You're still not over that? Please, let it go already, it's been a long time."
"I lost my wings because of you," Tink hisses venomously, "I'll take as damn fucking long to get over that as I like." Regina raises one eyebrow at her, regarding her coolly. "Then why are you even here? Why would you help us?"
"I'm not doing this for you," Tink spits, "I'm doing this for Emma, and for Jones—he was a friend to me when everyone else rejected me after I lost my wings. This is for them. Not you." The tiny blonde glares at Regina and tilts her head to the side, "You don't even regret it, do you? Not going inside? Not meeting him?"
Before Regina can respond, a wave of something…
Something powerful washes over the small clearing, raising every hair on the back of Regina's neck—magic.
Powerful, dark magic.
Emma's head peaks out of the tent, her hair messy and tangled, her eyes wide and startled. "Please tell me I wasn't the only one that felt that."
"Oh no, dearie," Rumple appears out of nowhere, "You most certainly were not. Someone just re-enforced a powerful concealing charm. There is something they do not want to us to find."
Regina eyes Rumple wearily, but nods when the Charmings, Neal and Emma look at her for confirmation. "I can feel it as well—and whatever it is," she looks ahead, into the jungle, "it's close."
Emma stumbles out of the tent, straightening her shirt and running her fingers through her hair. "Well, then what are we waiting for? Let's go."
"Emma," Tink cautions her, "We're close to Lost Boys territory—this might be designed to make us run straight into a trap."
"I don't care!" Emma exclaims, anger and desperation and fear burning deep in the depths of her eyes, "It might also lead us to Henry!" She directs her gaze right at Regina, and the elder woman can read the plea in the Savior's eyes.
"It's worth looking at," she admits reluctantly, "For all we know, they didn't expect us to be this close or to feel the charm at all." She looks towards Rumple and Neal, spitting, "This is your son and grandson we're talking about—risky or not, we need to do something."
It takes no more than a few minutes to convince the others to tag along (three out of the five minutes it takes are spent trying to convince Emma to let Regina and Rumple go first), carefully pushing through the jungle once again. They don't break up their camp—there's no need; whatever they're walking into, it's only a few minutes away.
When they finally stumble upon the clearing—much larger and darker, somehow, than the one they set up camp in—the magic is so potent, Regina can almost feel it sizzle in the air.
"This is the next encampment I was going to show you," Tink says softly, "I thought it was further away."
"It's empty," Emma pouts, eyes roving around, "There's nothing here."
"No," Charming says slowly, looking up at the sky, "No, it isn't. Look up." The tone of his voice is grave and sad, and it unnerves everyone, because Charming and Snow are usually the hopeful and cheerful ones—it is slightly terrifying to think of anything that could put a damper on their spirits.
Slowly, they all look up, a gasp falling from Snow's lips as they take in the three large round cages floating in the air above them. "Are those…" Emma chokes, disgust dripping from every word she says, "Are those human bones?"
"I believe so," Rumple replies calmly, but Regina can hear the slight shock in his voice too.
"There's someone in there," Neal exclaims, pointing up at the middle cage, "Look!"
Regina moves immediately, raising her hands to lower the cage to the ground carefully—the bars are wrought and wrapped around each other so tightly and closely they can't see who is in the cage; only that there is someone in there.
No one speaks, but the tension in the air as the cage softly touches the ground speaks volumes, and everyone holds their breath—Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry…
Regina swallows thickly before she raises her hand again, magic gathering in her palm, "Stand back," she orders everyone, never taking her eyes off the cage that might be holding her son. The cage crumbles beneath the searing weight of her magic the second she releases it, revealing a small, terrified little girl with a head full of dark curls, gleaming blue eyes and a trembling lower lip.
Until she lays eyes on Emma.
Regina sees something spark in the girl's eyes, before a bright smile tilts up her lips, and she launches herself into Emma's arms, exclaiming, "Auntie Emma!"