"What are you going to do with it?" Belle asks Regina, watching the former set the dreamcatcher in the passenger seat of her car, draping a coat over it to keep it hidden.

"I'm going to take it home and examine it," Regina says with a shrug, as if it were the only possible answer. "If we can extract memories from it, we might be able to figure out what's been going on. But there's no way I'm going to do that now, not with Mary Margaret breathing down my neck about planning this ridiculous dance. The only reason I'm not backing out is that I want to meet this girl Henry's apparently been spending so much time with."

"He could use a friend right now," Belle says, daring to place a hand on Regina's arm. Killian smiles. He'd have found Belle's form of bravery useless at one time; now he quite admired it. "I'm sure he's not telling her anything he shouldn't."

"Speaking of which, how much are we going to tell Mary Margaret and David about what we've been up to? Excalibur—they need to know about this," Robin interrupts.

"Or Arthur, for that matter," Killian adds. He doesn't care for this new visitor to Storybrooke, but then, he doesn't remember caring much for any of them except Elsa. "He's someone who should know about Excalibur, but can we trust him?"

"He just lost a chance to go home. He'll be anxious to help do anything that will get them out of here."

That may be Robin's take on it, but something about the king unsettles Killian. His entire body tenses, eyes on full alert around him, as if they remember having to prepare for a fight. Swan called it muscle memory. He calls it instinct.

They come upon the main street, blocked off by orange cones and ropes. Several booths have been set up with games or refreshments. Everyone is bustling about laying out napkins, arranging brightly colored balls, stringing lights from telephone pole to telephone pole. Arm in arm, Arthur and Guinevere follow Snow and David in the distance, looking every which way and pointing out different sights to each other. The politicians must be wined and dined. Regina breaks away from their little group to help some vendor spell out words on the sign above their tent, so he heaves a sigh. They won't be able to discuss Excalibur or what secrets the dreamcatcher could be holding until the party is in full swing. It's tempting to just summon Emma right here and now. Are you as lonely as I am right now, my love? What are you thinking about at this very moment?


"She had Excalibur?" It's not a question. It's a sentence. Arthur sits across from him at the picnic table where they've all assembled, except Henry, off with his mystery lass. Killian flinches as he attempts to read Arthur's face. He doesn't have the knack for spotting lies on him, but he can detect the bubbling rage. Her having the sword is reprehensible to the king. He'd strangle Emma for committing such a sin if he could.

"Trapped in a stone in her basement," he says, hoping that can fuel enough fire in Arthur to force his hand, spout off something in anger without thinking. Alas, the man pauses to collect himself.

"Well, then we need to get it back at once. It would be disastrous if the Dark One took possession of it."

He forgets about the others sitting with them, about the questioning looks from David and Snow when he and Belle told them where they had been earlier. Regina and Robin "dodged a bullet," running off home to decipher the dreamcatcher. They can be appalled a little while longer. Arthur is a man who has researched this blade.

"That have anything to do with its striking resemblance to the Dark One dagger?"

"How do you know about the dagger?" Arthur scrutinizes him as he asks the question. Killian's used to it, people needing to make a split second assessment of him to determine if they can trust him or not. It's only ever been pleasant once.

"I've spent a lifetime trying to end the Dark One's existence. I know much about the dagger. What I don't know about is your blade. Care to enlighten us?" In all the tomes he'd become absorbed in, in all the ancient crones he'd talked to, he'd never heard tell of the dagger once being part of something bigger, something good. Suspicious, that, but then, perhaps the simplest explanation is that Arthur had collected all the source material and kept it in Camelot. And maybe Merlin had done it before him.

"Yes," Arthur says after some hesitation. "There's a reason they resemble each other. They were forged as one weapon and then broken in two. I've spent years trying to reunite them."

"That's why you were so interested in the dagger when you arrived," Snow concludes, but Killian's head snaps back toward Arthur. Interested in the dagger. Not in going home, in wondering what sort of spell or curse brought them here in the first place, but the dagger.

"I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I had to make sure I could trust you." Lie. Perhaps. He doesn't know anymore and this watered-down beer some vendor gave him free of charge certainly isn't helping clear things up. "The restored weapon has great power. It can eradicate all dark magic forever."

"That's a good thing," David somewhat asks, somewhat states.

"Of course. But in the wrong hands, it can also destroy all light magic."

"That's her plan, to snuff out the light," Killian says. Gods. If she truly was to be believed when she said she was better this way, there would be no changing her mind on the subject if she was in fact setting things up to rid the world of light magic, herself included. Somewhere in there, her Savior magic still existed, maybe dormant, but there, magic threaded into her soul via love, True Love. If it left her completely, the Emma Swan he knew wouldn't exist.

"What happened in Camelot?" Snow breathes. "How did Emma fall so far?"

"Well, I'm sorry for all of you. It's a unique, terrible burden that you carry," Arthur addresses them all, rising. He takes his wife's hand and helps her to her feet. "But I'm afraid I will have to leave you to it. The king and queen can't be seen brooding when their subjects were brought here to lift their spirits. We need to mingle with them, bring them some cheer. Please, all of you—do drop by our camp if we can be of any further help."

They vanish into the festivities, leaving him, Belle, Snow, and David sitting in silence at the picnic table. Granny beckons Snow over to her for a moment to hand over Neal, the ladies' voices drowned out by the music and chatter.

"I'm going to go on to the pawn shop, double check the grimoires," Belle announces. With an affectionate grasping of his shoulder, she skirts around him and leaves without any further ado. By now, Regina has surely figured out the dreamcatcher, but she hasn't called him, or any of them. Considering if walking over to her house would be worth it, Killian's heel bounces, eyes honed in on the party and not at Snow and David's eyes on him.

"I need to reconvene with Regina."

"Hey. We need to talk." David looms over him, not backing away when Killian stands to his full height. For an absurd second, Killian has to fight off the urge to sit back down and apologize for his disrespectful behavior.

"Here." Snow thrusts Neal into his arms. He's held the wee one a couple times now, knows how to angle his arm so the baby rests on his wrist and not the hook, but now that Neal can hold his head up on his own, it bobs all over the place. One can't be too careful. "Now you can't just walk away from us."

"Have you been avoiding us?"

Prince Tact, Killian thinks.

"How have you been doing? Because we've been horrible, thanks for asking," David continues, crossing his arms. "We all come back here, no idea what's going on, and you're just now telling us Emma actually talked to you?"

"How is she?" Snow asks in a whisper, tears in her eyes. "How did she look? Did she give any indication of what might have happened?" She pauses, closing her eyes. "Did-did she ask about Henry? Or us? Sh-she tells you things she doesn't tell us."

He can't do this. He can't tell them she didn't even bring up her parents. He can't tell them he might have just broken her heart. They're too close for him to run his fingers through his hair, so he opens his hand against his chest and presses it downward to feel for the chain around his neck carrying Liam's...it's not there. Bloody hell—he lost Liam's ring? Marvelous. Just bloody marvelous. A failure in every way. Jostling Neal, he holds him closer to his chest, as if anyone is going to notice he's lost it, as if anyone even knows of its value to him.

"We're not going to get anywhere if we're all off on our own," David tells him, plopping a hand on Killian's shoulder. "It couldn't have been easy seeing her face-to-face by yourself."

"It wasn't."

"We've been worried about you, spending nights on the ship all alone." Snow shakes her head. "Have you slept at all? When's the last time you ate?"

"Milady..."

"You're not chasing down this Dark One alone," David orders with a tone that sends Killian's eyebrow flying up of its own accord. "You're going to have the whole family with you on this one, and not one of us is backing down until Emma is free of the Darkness."

"You're going to come home with us tonight," Snow adds.


The aromas of cinnamon, baked bread, and vanilla linger in the apartment, along with the ever-present infant smell that he doesn't find too pungent. They ushered him up the stairs to Emma's bed and bid him goodnight, but he can't relax in it. They don't know. They don't know how she ran up here and threw her arms around him, so happy to see he was alive and well. Would she ever be that happy to see him again? She'd almost told him she loved him right then and there, right on the cusp of gushing out the words. His hand pinches the red sheet underneath the floral blanket. He remembers searching for his hook after he'd left the hospital, climbing up here first, taking in the sight of the empty, dark apartment and the empty, smooth red sheets wondering all sorts of things about Emma Swan. He can't sleep in her bed, he concludes with a bead or two of sweat sliding off his face. Not unless she's right here next to him, the need to be inside her a constant ache.

Creeping down the stairs, he catches the sleeping forms of Snow and David in their bed with the much smaller form of Neal in the cradle next to them. He won't leave, not after their generous invitation to stay with them, but he can't stay upstairs.

Wandering into the little nook they consider their sitting room, he finds the black rectangle that controls their little television. Much smaller than the other ones he's seen, it doesn't escape him that it's the first time he's attempted to watch anything on it. But he's seen Swan and Henry operate the thing enough times, and he doubts he needs much sound.

He likes the...the...channel about making discoveries, all the informative programs about animals and even a few legends of buried treasure in some places, and he likes the one that covers this world's history in spite of David dismissing it as "the Hitler Channel," whatever that meant.

"Coming up, Hitler and the Early Days of World War Two."

Well, maybe the moniker was more well-earned than he'd originally thought.


He's learned all about World War Two by the time the clock reads 4:01am. Gods, the whole affair had been so bloody. Just how bad had World War One been? It sends his mind rollicking in depressing directions as he imagines coming to this world at that time, when power in the wrong hands commanded everything else be forgotten—love, peace, self-respect. Would he have been a man of honor, or would he have been a monster?


"Are you sure she didn't say anything else?"

"Read the text, David! Right there. 'We need to talk.' Can you please just strap Neal in?"

"If Regina was that, well, short with you, then maybe we should drop Neal off with Aurora."

"No. No, I want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. We can drop Neal off later if we need to."

"Except 'we need to talk' is never anything good! If she had good news, it would say, 'good news.' Whatever Regina's got to say, we'll have to take action immediately afterwards. You know we will."

"Fine. Let me call Aurora."

The backdrop of his morning. In the bathroom, he stares at himself in the mirror, wondering where the bags under his eyes are, where the hazy expression is. Another sleepless night. And then, bright and early, Neal had screeched to be fed, Regina had sent Snow an ominous message, and then nothing but domestic logistics.


Regina paces her office with her hands on her hips. Alone, she fails to acknowledge they've arrived, nor Belle a few minutes after. No Robin, no Henry...just a frazzled Regina whose demeanor conceals any clues to what this could be about.

"Regina," Snow begins, reaching out for her, only for Regina to stop at the window and then turn around to face all of them.

"Emma came to my house last night."

"How is she? Did she want to talk?" Snow gasps.

"Well, she was technically there to see Henry, but, the thing is—I got the dreamcatcher to work. Originally, we thought it was Henry's as we were able to see a few memories with him in it. He apparently spent a lot of time with a girl named Violet in Camelot, a lot of alone time, unfortunately. I wasn't able to see much of what the rest of us were up to. But then we saw they weren't Henry's memories of Violet, but Violet's memories of him."

"Why would Emma keep some girl's memories? And apart from where she's keeping all of ours?" Belle wondered.

"Because Emma needed something from her," Regina almost growls. "I've tried to work backwards and find out why...to make a long, incomplete story short, Emma took this girl's heart and ordered her to break Henry's."

Dead silence. He should step forward, deny Emma would ever do such a thing. He should wring Regina's neck for suggesting it, but in whatever universe that choice exists, Emma is not the Dark One and never could be.

"Does she have her heart now?" David at last asks.

"I don't know. Emma promised her in the memory she would return it, but how reliable that is, I...I really don't know."

"And she came over to confess?" Snow asks, chest heaving.

"She wanted to see Henry. I assumed that after she'd spent some time with him, she figured they were on good terms. She did the usual Dark One shtick—she had no choice, we couldn't understand the circumstances...I threw her out. Henry's heartbroken, has no idea if he can ever trust her again. But that's not the strangest part. The strangest part is that we got closer to helping her in Camelot than we thought. We found Merlin."

"We found Merlin back in Camelot?" Snow nearly screams. Merlin should have been able to help. Everyone, Emma included, had planned to find him.

"Emma let it slip last night when she tried to visit Henry." Regina nodded.

"If we found that Sorcerer, why the bloody hell didn't he destroy the Darkness in Emma?"

"You're asking the wrong person."

"Well, we can't very well ask him!" Maybe...maybe Merlin proved to be a false lead. Maybe Merlin's powers were exceeded only by his bloodlust, a second Rumpelstiltskin, and the price to free Emma had been too costly. At least by Emma's standards. There could have been a battle. He knows his body fought; he just doesn't know against what. It could be as simple as Emma embracing the Darkness to be able to fight off a larger threat. How like her. But then...they were supposed to have failed her, weren't they? Why all the secrecy? Why the sad, despondent look when she said she could only wish she could confide in him? Taking on the Darkness to save others was nothing to be ashamed of. No, there has to be more to it than that.

"That's exactly what we're going to do," she argues, holding up a red mushroom. Oh gods, what now?

"The Crimson Crown," David notes. "You figured out how to make the communication spell work."

Judging by the purpose of this little mushroom and everyone's proud looks, Killian wagers it's the price to pay for avoiding them for the last couple of days. They had been working on something, evidently a way to communicate with Merlin. Reaching forth, he takes it from her and twists it around in his hand. Could something so small be the key to all this? If Emma overlooked a stout, hearty-looking mushroom, she'll be kicking herself later.

"Let's just say seeing Emma rip Violet's heart from her chest gave me all the motivation I need."

No more talk of Emma's sins. She can atone for them once they've helped her.

"How does this thing work?" he asks Regina, holding it up. "Do we simply speak to it?" Hell, he'll volunteer to be the one who looks like an insane ass talking to a wild mushroom if it means they can contact Merlin now.

"It's not that easy. Not just anyone can summon Merlin. He'll only appear to someone who's been chosen by him." Taking back the Crimson Crown, Regina looks over at David.

"Arthur. Merlin delivered all the prophecies to him," David clarifies.

"What do you say, Sheriff?"

"Already on my way." He hoists his coat up and turns toward the door. Arthur did say they could find him whenever they needed assistance. Killian just wishes they could do this without him. Whether this intense dislike stems from something substantial or not, Arthur being stranded in Storybrooke leaves him a thorn in their sides, not the answer to their prayers.

"Wait, wait." Belle snaps to, almost catching David's arm. "Why are we wasting our time with Merlin when there's someone here who can help us?"

"Who?" Snow asks. Indeed.

"Rumple." Missing Rumpelstiltskin? Missing Rumpelstiltskin who had been fine with letting them all die just to gain even more power? Who weaseled his way back into town, tried to fill Emma with darkness, and rewrite all their lives to serve his own ends? That "Rumple?" Surely, she can't mean that. All these weeks estranged should have allowed some common sense to work its way in and heal her broken heart.

"If he hadn't brought the Darkness back to Storybrooke, we wouldn't even be standing here right now," Regina counters, and he'd never thought he would think this, but he's ready to cheer Regina for being the one to say it. Bloody hell, he'd voiced the same sentiment the very night they'd returned. What will it take for Belle to stop trusting that monster?

"Rumple may be to blame for the situation we're in, but so is Emma!" Belle argues. "She was seduced by the Darkness just like he was, so how does that make Rumple any different?"

Shaking his head, he needs to make his point as concisely and clearly as he can. The situations are completely different. Emma sacrificed herself so the Darkness wouldn't take anyone else, or perhaps even all of them. She'd never wanted it. And she's only been the Dark One for, what, six weeks?

"Sorry, love. The Crocodile had more chances than anyone," he murmurs. He expects a look of betrayal, something hard enough to sever their friendship. It feels like an anchor bearing down on his shoulder blades when she doesn't react, as if she expected to hear dissent.

"And right now, we need to give Emma her best chance, which means contacting Merlin," David argues, but gently. Belle's face remains steely.

"And if something bad happens to Rumple?"

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Regina concludes. More tactful than he would have been, he thinks. Even if he'd somehow worked his way to such a secure spot in the "hero column," he'd have to be a daft one to even assume Rumpelstiltskin would help them.

"Mm, well, maybe you're willing to. I'm not." She storms out, not waiting for anyone to argue with her, done with trying to reason with them. She'd been the only one who could possibly understand, the only other one here who'd ever been in love with a Dark One, but maybe that divided more than united them. He wanted the woman Emma was before. Belle wanted someone who may have died centuries ago, someone she'd never even met. He'll have to ponder it later, after they've spoken to Merlin.


Arthur has lied to them. Belle texted him that she found Rumpelstiltskin and will fill the others in as soon as Dr. Whale takes a look at them. Emma hasn't contacted anyone today, and Regina has checked her work no less than a thousand times. Fitting that only Henry can possibly salvage the day.

While they wait for him, Killian leans against the wall of the vault and lets his arm sway, his hook tapping into the stone wall every time. Arthur must remember something they don't. And feel the need to work against them. It follows he already knew about Emma, but if he had already known in Camelot, they must have trusted him a great deal. At least Arthur and Merlin didn't seem to be in league with one another. If that had been the case, he would have spoken with him when he'd had the chance. So they freed Merlin, and if Arthur had still posed a threat, he must have had some magic on his side. Emma went dark to counter some spell or curse? Shaking his head, he sighs and shivers against the wall, still lacking whatever they need to piece together the past.

Henry descends into the vault without ceremony, just a serious expression, wiser and more mature than his years.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Regina asks him, hurrying over to him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"It's just I-I know you've been through a lot."

"The person who ripped out Violet's heart isn't my mother. But Emma is still in there somewhere, and I'll do anything it takes to get her back."

He imagines all too vividly what it must have been like for Emma to come here with this lad in tow, smaller then, giving her that unshakable faith and assurance that she could do the impossible. Her coming to believe him seemed like an inevitability in that regard. His mother and grandparents give him adoring looks when Killian hands him the Crimson Crown.

"You can do this, lad," he promises him. If anyone can, it is the Truest Believer.

Henry takes the slightly charred mushroom and lays it into the frothy mixture in front of them. Smoke rises from the cauldron and takes on that ethereal purple shade, spreading and spreading until a face appears in it. Young, handsome, thoughtful—Merlin. The Sorcerer's eyes fixate past all of them, filling with tragedy, as if a hardened warrior was called back into the fray after decades of peace.

"Merlin?" Henry tries.

"If you're receiving this message, then things are worse than I feared," the Sorcerer speaks, and Killian can feel the heavy heart beating behind the robes.

"I don't believe this," Regina breathes with a hopeless tone. "We're getting Merlin's voicemail?"

"There is only one person who can help you defeat the Dark One now. Her name is Nimue."

"Who's Nimue?" David asks the group, not taking his eyes off of the message. There had been some hesitation with the name, regret. Nimue? He doesn't recognize it.

"If you want to destroy the Darkness, then you must-" A shadow flashes behind him. It catches Merlin's attention, and when he turns back in their direction, the utter terror in the Sorcerer's eyes chills Killian's blood. A great, ancient wizard afraid doesn't leave much hope for those without magic. "No. The Dark One's found me already."

They all lean in closer, Killian's eyes widening. Emma's taken life before, but never planned it out, never lacked remorse for it. Merlin doesn't speak, his lips dry. Ducking down, he turns to the side and the message evaporates. They all jump and attempt to catch themselves at the same time. The Sorcerer can only be dead, he realizes. Now that he's seen him, it's as if he can close his eyes and somehow listen for his particular brand of magic, but the silence confirms he no longer lives. Then, then maybe Emma removed him from the equation after all, already embracing the Darkness, already sure in her mind killing him fulfilled...something. What? Why? His mind reels.

"What the hell did Emma do to him?" he asks the magic-less air.


A/N: The chapter title comes from the World War Two Battle of Peleliu in which the US technically won against Japan, but it lacked strategic importance and the number of casualties were extremely high since a planned 4-day campaign lasted two months. I thought that described what our heroes were going through. Yeah, they heard from Merlin and know Arthur's false, but things only seem to be getting worse. I had wanted to find out more about Liam's ring, but unless it appears in the upcoming episode, "The Brothers Jones," I don't think I will get an origin story for it. However, I do have to say that I learned a thing or two from "Devil's Due" and will be incorporating it where I can. Coming up? Well, not fun stuff, I can promise you that.