Author: I thank you all for your reviews and messages and love for this fic. I know the updates have been further apart as of late, but the chapters are also a lot longer than the earlier ones. I hope you will all stick through with me to the end! To infinity, and beyond the horizon!

Chapter Twenty Six - Take Comfort in Your Lover's Arms

The stone hallway stretched out in front of her, dark and shadowed. She couldn't see the other end, it seemed to go on forever.

She was running but it felt like she was going nowhere. The corridor went on and on, all the doors were locked and refused to open when she rattled the knobs and pounded her fists on the wood. The heavy tapestries rippled against the wall, as if tiny unseen creatures were burrowing behind them. A noise came from somewhere in the shadows, it was the scrape of heavy footfalls on the stone, dark and ominous and coming closer.

"Regina wants one thing...your heart."

She shrieked at the sound of the voice of the dead king and forced herself to move, too petrified to look back and see what exactly was behind her. She ran as fast as she could but it was like wading through water, she was weighed down and barely making any headway. Her feet dragged against the uneven stone as she tried to push forward and she stumbled, falling forward with a cry and landing in a heap on the floor.

A feminine voice rang out in the dark, "Did you really think you could hide from me on your little pirate ship?"

She was lying on a rug made of crimson and gold threads, soft under her cheek and soothing after the sting of the rough stone. She was in the main hall of the castle and the torches mounted to the walls roared to life, the candles all ignited as one. She pushed herself up and got to her feet, facing the woman who sat on her mother's throne as if it belonged to her. The red lips curled back in a twisted parody of a smile, "You can't escape me. I've been hunting you since before you were even born. You thought they could save you, but you were wrong, little princess. "

Regina swept an arm across the room and a thick plume of dark smoke poured from her fingers. It rolled over Emma in a wave, burning her eyes and making her choke, clawing desperately at her throat as it filled her lungs with the bitter, acrid fumes. When it finally vanished she saw the floor around her was littered with broken bodies, the familiar faces smeared with blood. Doyle, Keswick, Smee, Murray, Fergus.

"No!"

She fell to her knees and pulled Fergus into her lap. The dark eyes were open, but there was no life left behind them and his head fell limply against her thigh, his blood staining her skirt with streaks of red.

"You evil, evil woman!" Emma screamed, clutching him to her.

The Evil Queen laughed in a high cackle, it was an unearthly sound that made the hairs stand up on the back of Emma's neck.

"Oh, but they would have all been safe were it not for you. They tried to hide you, they tried to protect you, they tried to guard you, and the whole time you knew that I was coming. Their blood is on your hands, they are all dead now because of you. Including this one."

The last of the smoke swirled into nothingness and he was lying on the floor at Regina's feet, so pale and still and with the sword he had sworn his oath on held tight in his hand.

Emma screamed his name, "Killian!"

The light flashed from her hands and Regina laughed again, a look of delight on her face, "Do you think your magic is any match for mine? You can't even control it."

She tried, she tried to reach him with her light, she tried to save him, but Regina's black smoke engulfed him once more and she couldn't pierce through it. It wasn't enough and the wedding ring slipped from her finger, the sea diamond fell to the stone floor and shattered into a thousand tiny shards.

Her sailor had drowned.

...

"Emma! Emma, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open. It felt like there was a heavy weight pressing down on her chest and she coughed and sputtered as she tried to catch her breath. Killian was kneeling above her, looking down with concern written all over his face. It took her a moment to realize that her hands were gripping his shoulders and light was spilling from under her palms, soaking into his skin and illuminating the cabin.

"Is it your heart?" Killian asked, pressing his hand on her chest. He'd been greatly concerned about her heart being injured or damaged in some way from the attempt to take it, and had insisted that she rest as much as possible. He'd almost confined her to their quarters for a few days, but she had argued back that she had to take care of the men who had been injured in the attack on the ship and after a rather blistering row about it he had finally acquiesced and let her tend to them.

She shook her head at his question, fighting the tears that were threatening to escape.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, "Was it a nightmare?"

It wasn't just a nightmare, it was her worst nightmare. He had been lying dead at Regina's feet because of her, the whole crew had been slaughtered without mercy because of her. She nodded mutely.

Killian pulled her into a sitting position and rubbed his hand over her back while she buried her face in his bare shoulder. The dream was starting to fade, but she could still feel the despair as she tried and tried but failed to save him. "You can't even control it," Regina had said in the dream and it was true. On the king's ship they were going to hang him right in front of her and she'd been powerless to stop it.

She pressed herself against him at the thought in a desperate clutch and heard him murmur into her hair, "Emma, it was just a dream, you're safe here with me."

He wasn't safe with her. King George had attacked his ship because of her, Sullivan was dead because of her, Keswick and Murray had been gravely injured because of her. She swallowed hard and managed to whisper, "But you're not."

Killian stiffened in her arms, "What?"

She pulled back and looked at him, "Regina, she wants me. King George came for me. Who else is out there, looking for me? Killian, they were going to hang you! They were going to kill everyone and burn the ship, I heard them give the order! You were right, I should have stayed back, I should have let you leave without me. She'll kill everyone I love, and I can't...I can't lose you."

He took her hands and held them gently between his own with a tender look of reassurance on his face, "Love, you don't have to worry about me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."

The white light continued to pulse softly from her palms, it spilled over him and she wished she could wrap him in it forever. She reached for him, sliding a hand over his cheek and the light sank into his skin. It glowed under her fingers, a warm pinkish hue spreading over his face and his eyes closed. He turned his cheek into her hand and nuzzled against it.

"What does it feel like?" she wondered. She could feel the hum under her own skin of the magic moving through her blood. She had knocked aside grown men as if they were mere rag dolls with the light from her hands, but somehow she knew it would never hurt him.

Killian smiled with his eyes still closed, "It feels like...it feels like the days when the sky is clear and the sea is calm, with just enough wind to fill the sails and carry me wherever I want to go. It feels like the warmth of the summer sun on my face and it feels like it felt the very first time you kissed me."

He looked at her then, eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grew wider and his teeth flashed white in the light, "It was shockingly bold of you, a princess kissing a pirate like that."

Her hand drifted to the back of his neck and she leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as the light started to dim and fade.

"You like it when I'm bold," she teased back, toying gently with the hair at the nape of his neck and sliding her other hand up his chest.

His breath was hot against her lips, "No. I love it when you're bold."

Emma pushed him onto his back, kneeling next to him on the bed and boldly running her hands over him.

"Anywhere?" she asked, thinking of the other time he had soothed her after a nightmare, crawling into bed with her and cradling her in his arms with such softness, a surprising thing from a man who appeared to be so hard. That morning she had watched as the sunrise crept into the cabin, the dawn light washing over his face and chest and revealing an ocean of bare skin. She had never been so close to a half-naked man before and she had been been unable to resist touching him while he lay beside her. The curiosity had been overwhelming, making her forget propriety and rank and all the reasons why she shouldn't, and she had reached out to explore the unknown.

Killian settled an arm behind his head, bare chested and with his pants riding low on his hips. It was all so familiar now, the feel of the hard planes under her hands, the flex of the muscles under his skin when she drew gentle patterns over him with her fingertips.

"Anywhere," he repeated in a hoarse voice and she recognized that too now, the sound of his desire, "Anything," he offered up as well. They had not made love since the night they had returned to the Jolly Roger, he had forbidden her from doing anything strenuous and he had obviously been holding himself back. Chaste kisses and careful embraces were all that had passed between them as he displayed gentlemanly restraint and she had been worn out from the whole ordeal, so she humoured him and refrained from making any advances.

But she needed him now and he obviously would not refuse to comfort her in the way she wanted. The light from her hands had faded into darkness, but she could feel the magic simmering just below the surface. She had figured out that it was connected to her emotions, spilling out in times of great fear, anger, and as it had the night she had made everything in the cabin float, love.

Anywhere and anything. There was a scar on his right shoulder. She searched it out in the dark and traced it with her finger, then leaned forward and kissed the mark. Her lips dusted over the raised line and she heard his sharp intake of breath. He was lying as still as he had done that morning when he pretended to sleep and she had marvelled over him, suddenly wanting to to touch him everywhere and experience everything she had refused to every other man. His chest was liberally sprinkled with hair and she buried her nose in it as her hands moved lower. His stomach was flat, tight with muscle, and there was a line of hair that ran down the length of it.

"Why are men so hairy?" she mused aloud, dragging a thumb down the line.

It took him a moment to respond and it sounded like he was trying not to laugh, "Oh, it's not for our benefit, it's to keep the pretty lasses warm on the cold nights. Call it an incentive of sorts to return to our beds."

She chuckled, "Is that so? Well, you do an excellent job at keeping me warm, I'll grant you. But that's not exactly why I return to your bed every night."

Killian lifted his hips when she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants and she peeled them off his body, letting them drop to the floor next to the bed. She ran a hand up his thigh and cupped her palm between his legs.

"Do you remember the first time I touched you here? I was so nervous that night, I didn't know what to do or what would happen. But I wanted you, I wanted to feel all of you. I wanted to know what it would be like to be with you."

His voice shook slightly and he was breathing hard, "I remember. I remember that night, I wanted you so badly, Emma, I was so close to just having you right then."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, curious. Her hand wrapped around him and he let out a hiss of pleasure, hips arching up again into her touch.

There was another pause before he answered, "You might not have denied me if I had tried, but you weren't ready. You had only just called me by my name for the first time that night, and I didn't want you to pull away from me afterwards. I didn't want to make you afraid of me again."

She bent down and kissed his stomach, "I'll never be afraid of you, Killian."

He cursed loudly when she took him in her mouth and she smiled around him. He loved this, she knew he did, both doing it to her and having her do it to him. She had been nervous the first time, not sure if she would enjoy it, but she hadn't been afraid to try. It hadn't taken long to learn how to pleasure him like this, and as he rocked his hips gently and muttered how good it felt, so hot and hard against her lips, a burning coil of desire twisted low in her stomach and started to ache and throb between her own thighs.

A hand palmed her cheek and she could feel the cold metal of his rings against her skin. His long fingers slipped through her hair and he gasped when she teased him with her tongue in that way he liked especially.

Killian squirmed under her and choked out, "Emma….gah, stop...I need to...please, I need all of you."

She released him and rose to her knees, pulling her nightdress off and moving to straddle his lap while his hands settled on her hips and guided her down. He slipped in, and her back arched at the feeling of the thick length of him filling her, the burst of pleasure as she rolled her hips and took him all the way to the hilt.

It was too dark to see, but it didn't matter. She could feel him, every inch of him that was nestled inside her, and she knew every mark and scar on his skin, every callus on the hands that roamed over her, every grunt and groan and muttered oath.

It didn't take long. She shuddered and gave a gasping cry as her aching need was satisfied and she felt him tense up under her. He let out that telltale drawn out groan with his fingers digging hard into her hips, holding her in place and she could feel him pulse and jerk between her legs. Her hands were planted against his shoulders, and when his grip on her went slack she carefully eased off him and laid down at his side. Both of their hearts were beating fast, his pounded under her hand as his chest rose and fell.

As her breathing started to slow back to normal and the sweat cooled on her skin the thoughts started to nag at her again. The Evil Queen was adept at stealing hearts, using them to subjugate and control her victims and ultimately killing them by crushing the heart to dust. The glove King George had used had been enchanted by Regina, and it had reeked of darkness and evil. Emma had felt the magic flowing from it, had felt it hold her in place when she tried to recoil away, and had felt it curl around her heart and the shocking pain when the king had started to pull.

But it hadn't worked.

At first she had thought that the queen's magic had somehow failed, that the enchantment hadn't held, but the memory had played over and over again in her mind during the hours Killian insisted she spend convalescing. She had felt her heart start to give and the ripping in her chest as it was almost torn away. But then she felt her magic again as it flared to life and the power had been unlike anything else she had ever experienced. She could still hear George's scream as the light had burst from her and he was flung backwards across the deck by it. His men had said that his neck was broken in the fall and that was the cause of his death, but she wasn't so certain. They had been standing face to face mere inches apart when he had plunged his hand into her chest and she had seen right into his eyes. He had touched her heart and the white light had flown into him. Killian had said that her light felt like the sun, and she had watched it burn the king from the inside.

Regina's magic was said to be second in power only to the Dark One's. But it had been unable to take her heart.

Killian rolled to his side, pulling her against his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I can hear you thinking, darling. It's not doing much good for my ego, if my thorough ravishing of my queen wasn't enough to make her forget about her nightmare."

She mumbled into his neck, "I think your queen was the one who thoroughly ravished you tonight, Captain."

His hand rubbed over her back, thumb pressing into the grooves of her spine and making her shiver, "Aye, that you did. You are a bold one indeed."

"You love it when I'm bold."

Killian lifted her chin and kissed her, "I love you. Now go back to sleep, and if you have another bad dream I shall be more than happy to be ravished by you again."

She could feel the fatigue starting to settle over her limbs, making them heavy and limp, "You promise?"

He murmured in agreement, and Emma shifted against him. His skin was warm and the hair on his chest tickled her own smooth skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, the thick fog of sleep starting to creep over her and pull her to slumber.

She could feel a heart beating softly between them, but he was holding her so close that she wasn't sure if it was his or hers.

...

...

Keswick grunted in pain and she winced in sympathy, dropping the soiled bandage and holding out her hand, "The new one, Fergus, quickly."

He helped her wrap the linen strip around the jagged slash on Keswick's side and she pinned it into place. When they made port a real physician would be found to examine him, but until then he would have to make do with the care that could be offered on a ship in the middle of the ocean. The wound was kept clean and seemed to be healing, but was obviously still painful, the skin around it bruised purple and yellow and she strongly suspected one or more of his ribs were broken as well.

Emma eased him down onto the chair and he groped for the ale. The injured men were allowed double their normal rations as they recovered, and he drank deeply from the mug.

"Thank you, Mistress," he said, setting it down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

A makeshift infirmary had been set up in a section of the crew quarters. Everyone else was back on some form of duty, but Keswick and Murray had been the worst injured and were still excused. Jack was stretched out on a cot with his broken leg trussed up to keep it still.

"Mistress?" he asked, holding up his empty cup.

She refilled it for him and handed it back, "How are you feeling today, Mr. Murray?"

"Much improved."

He was pale and sweating and didn't look much improved. The cup shook in his hand and the ale nearly spilled over, she grasped his wrist and held it steady. Their eyes met over the ale, and he swallowed hard.

"Mistress Jones, can you tell me...when we land, is the captain going to put me off?"

She frowned, putting the cup back on the table, "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

He nodded at his leg, "Not fit for duty for who knows how long, and can't earn my keep. On my old ship, the captain would toss you overboard if you got hurt bad and couldn't work."

Emma recalled Captain Blount with his ragged ship and threadbare crew, and shook her head, angry. She didn't think Jack was exaggerating when he said men had been thrown overboard after suffering an injury. A sharp stab of guilt pierced her chest, they had been hurt because of her and Jack thought he was going to get put off the Jolly Roger because of it.

"The captain wouldn't...Killian's not going to throw you overboard," she insisted, but he didn't seem convinced.

Keswick piped in, pointing a finger, "Now listen to me, if you follow Captain Jones's orders, you earn your place on the ship. Don't follow them, and he'll punish you, make no mistake, but he don't throw a man off for being hurt. And certainly not when he was injured in battle."

"There," she said, patting Jack on the shoulder, "You hear that? Nothing to worry about."

"We sail under the crimson flag, and we always take care of our own," Fergus added, "Captain said that when he took me on."

"Aye lad, we do," Keswick agreed, "You got the captain's wife herself here looking after you, think she'd bother if he was going to put you off?"

Jack leaned back on his cot, looking somewhat reassured, "How long have you been married to the captain, Mistress?"

She sponged off his sweaty forehead, "Not long. I haven't been on board much longer than you."

"The rest of the crew...they say that you're a real lady. They say that you were a princess, all draped in jewels and with a gold crown."

Keswick met her eye and gave a tiny shrug. Killian had ordered that she was to be treated as his wife and she was, but they couldn't make the men forget where she had come from and she had set foot on the ship with a fortune in sapphires around her neck and a jewelled haircomb on her head. She dipped the sponge back in the basin of clean water and squeezed it out, "A princess married to a pirate. Now that would be quite the tale. And what else does the crew say?"

Jack's voice was a bit slurred and his eyes were closed, "They say Captain Jones stole you right off a royal ship and wouldn't give you back even for all the gold in the kingdom. They say you got away once, but he found you again and he took you to wife to keep you. And some say that you're even a witch in disguise and can do magic. Is it true?"

She blinked as he shared all the crew's gossip about her, rolling the sponge in her hands as she considered how to answer.

"Perhaps I was a princess once...and lived in a castle in the forest where I was guarded by knights. Perhaps...perhaps Fergus here is secretly one of my knights and not just the captain's cabin boy."

She tossed the sponge at Fergus, who caught it easily in one hand and grinned.

"And you, Mr. Keswick? Do you think I'm a witch in disguise?" she asked in a teasing voice but curious as to how much exactly the men knew. Her growing ability to wield magic could hardly stay secret for long in such close quarters, not after she had saved Killian from freezing to death and used her light against the king's men when they attacked.

Keswick looked back down at his mug and gave another shrug, "I think you bewitched Captain Jones something fierce, ma'am. But I don't think that was magic."

Killian said the same thing, that she had bewitched him. She supposed in a way she had, if love truly was the most powerful magic of all.

"Well," she said, unfolding the wool blanket that was lying on the cot and spreading it over Jack. His eyes opened when she tucked it around his shoulders and she smiled down at him, "Perhaps I did bewitch him, or perhaps it's all just a tale, but it's a tale for another time. I'm not a princess on this ship, I am merely Eala Jones, Mr. Murray. If you wish to hear some more tales, I shall bring a book and read to you later, but for now, you need to sleep. And you need to rest as well, Mr. Keswick. That's an order."

He raised an eyebrow, but she gave him a firm look and after a moment he nodded with a small smile.

"Aye, Mistress."

...

...

...

He frowned down at the map, drumming his fingers on it. The words disappeared and reappeared, Uncharted Waters, and the little fairy peeked out from under his thumb.

"Your orders, Captain?" Smee asked, standing in front of the desk with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Find us a place to make port. Keep watch, alert me at the first sight of any land."

He flicked his wrist at his first mate, dismissing him. Smee nodded and climbed back up the ladder, moving slow and wheezing and panting from the effort.

Everyone was feeling the weight of the last few days. Sullivan was gone, Keswick and Murray were laid up and excused from duty, he was short on hands and he needed to bring the ship into port. The Jolly had only suffered minor damage in the attack, but in unknown waters they couldn't risk sailing in less than prime condition lest a minor crack turn into a major repair and the crew needed a respite before they pushed on.

Killian scrubbed his hands over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. The burden was heaviest on his shoulders, as captain he had the most privileges, but he also had the most responsibility. He had to see to his ship and his crew first and foremost and he'd been pulling double shifts and working from dawn until dusk, taking over for Sullivan.

It was never easy to lose a man. They knew the risks involved when they signed on, that a life of piracy was a life of freedom, but it was a life that did not promise longevity as one of it's many rewards. Sullivan had known, as had everyone else who had sailed away with him and not come back home.

"On your feet for the captain!"

Doyle shouted the order as soon as he set foot on deck, and the men all stood and turned to him, acknowledging his presence.

"At ease. Back to your posts!" he commanded, and the work went on. At least the weather was favouring them, the sky was clear and the sea was calm. The sun shone brightly above them and the gentle waves were like mirrors, reflecting the rays of light and shimmering like diamonds.

Emma was standing by the rail with her parasol in one hand and and something held tight in the other, pressed against her chest. Her gaze searched the water, watching the seas for any sign of the ship with the mermaid figurehead. His lover's face was shadowed, but the guilt in her eyes was plain. She blamed herself for the attack, for the injuries suffered by the men and for Sullivan's death. He knew guilt, he carried his own regrets and remorse with him always, hidden behind quips and smiles and swagger.

That knowledge was why he had relented during their argument. Much as he wanted to keep her from anything that might stress or upset her as she recovered, if he had barred her from nursing the injured then the guilt would only continue to fester and eat away at her. Besides, she would undoubtedly just unlock the cabin door with magic and go to them anyway behind his back, and she was the one person on the ship he wouldn't punish for disobeying his orders. Hell, since he'd sworn his oath and recognized her as his queen, she could give orders to him now.

Despite her denials, he knew she really had put a spell on him.

"What's vexing you now, love?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her back against his chest. Emma leaned her head on his shoulder and lifted her hand. She had her enchanted mirror concealed in her palm, and the little image of her parents appeared when she whispered to it. He had seen it before, the queen with Emma's smile and the king who had given her that golden hair.

"I need to find them. I need answers," Emma said, her voice pitched low to carry only to his ears, "I need to know what's happening to me and why."

She tucked the mirror away in the pocket of her skirt and rested her hand over his.

He wished he could give her what she sought but all he could offer was the comfort of his body as he had the previous night, kissing her temple and taking her weight as she leaned against him.

There was some dark clouds high in the skies ahead, a smudge of grey in a sea of white.

"There's rain in those clouds," he said, "If we're lucky it will pass over before we reach it, but you will stay below if it hits."

Killian braced himself for another argument but she merely nudged a bit closer, her head turning so that her cheek was pressed against his coat.

"Aye, Captain," Emma whispered, and he held her to him. He looked out over the sea and watched the horizon, searching for any hint of white sails against the blue sky.

...

...

...

Aboard The Mermaid's Song

"Sire!"

Rain lashed against the deck and David flung the drops from his eyes, shaking his head and seeking out the captain.

"Are we sinking?" he yelled, feeling the ship leaning at what seemed to be a dangerous angle.

"No sire, but the damage is severe. We'll have to head straight for land."

He swore under his breath, "And the pirates?"

The captain appeared, the rain plastering his uniform to his body and sluicing off him in waves, "Defeated. I think we sunk 'em, but they might still be afloat. Pirates are like bloody roaches."

David squinted into the sheets of rain. Visibility had sunk to a mere foot or two from the side of the ship and the pirate ship that had attacked them could still be out there, just waiting for the chance to strike again.

The ship shuddered and groaned under their feet and the captain froze, his eyes narrowing, "We're taking on water. We need to find land immediately. Sire, did you suffer any injury? Or your wife?"

He shook his head, "No. She's seeing to the injured crew below."

"Blasted pirates! Thieves and rotten curs, the whole lot of them!" the captain spat, "I'll need every able hand on deck. Including you or we will sink."

"Of course, Captain. Tell me what to do," David said.

They had come so far, sailed halfway across the world. They had faked their own deaths and had sent their only daughter away, and lived with the holes in their hearts from her absence for months. It felt like they were so close to finally finding the queen who could defeat Regina once and for all, and it had almost all been destroyed by a group of black-hearted scourges in search of gold.

Damn all pirates.