Previously on Until the Stars Are All Alight: It feels like it's been 84 years since I last updated this fic, and even I didn't remember exactly what happened in the last chapter when I sat down to start writing this one. Given that fact, I thought I'd give you a quick recap of where we are going into chapter 14:
In Misthaven, the curse was broken when Emma and Killian shared TLK in the LWM, but the barrier around Misthaven is still intact. The elves don't know why this is, but at least it continues to provide them protection from the Dark One. Merlin returns sometime later and takes Snow and Charming to the Wishing Well where they are able to look into the Mirror of Merlin, which shows them what was, what is, and what has not yet come to pass. They see glimpses of Emma growing up in the LWM, and then they see her wedding to Killian and the birth of their grandson, Henry. The mirror also shows them a future where Emma lays dead and Killian is prostrated with grief. Merlin assures them that the future is still in flux. As things currently stand, that is what the future will bring, but it can still be changed. He tells them they must trust that Killian will get her to believe and come home, but as the years pass and Killian seems to make no progress on that front, Merlin decides he needs to take matters into his own hands.
Seven years later in the LWM, Henry, now a first grader, is waiting for the school bus when suddenly a black hole (portal) opens beside him and Merlin emerges. Henry is wary of the stranger, but hears him out. Merlin gives him a storybook and tells him that it explains his family history. Merlin asks Henry to help convince his mom to believe. Henry does as he's told, but Emma is deep in denial and she doesn't even want to consider the stories both Henry and Killian are telling her. At one point she even snaps at Henry-for which she is instantly sorry. Killian convinces Henry that it's best to take a slow and cautious approach with Emma in order to not scare her.
On her 28th birthday, Emma wakes to pain in her forearm. Looking down, she watches as her flower tattoo comes off of her wrist and forms itself into a dagger that is engraved with the name Rumplestiltskin. This completely freaks her out, and Killian tries to use the moment to make her see that he (and Henry) have been telling the truth about their origins, but Emma still refuses to listen. Henry, knowing that the dagger has to be destroyed, and upset that his mom still won't believe, takes the dagger from his parents' bedroom and runs away, planning to throw the dagger into the fires of the Underworld himself.
As he's leaving, a suspicious man watches him from the shadows...
Chapter 14 (Home is Behind)
Misthaven, seven years ago
Rumplstiltskin sat upon the hard, cold bench within his prison and smiled. Something had changed, something big, something momentous. He didn't know what and he didn't know how, but his Dark One senses were absolutely clear.
The tides had turned in his favor. Now he need only wait for one of his minions to inform him of the good news.
Rumplestiltskin was not accustomed to waiting long for anything he desired-anything save his ultimate revenge, that is-and today was no exception. Less than a quarter hour after he'd sensed things had changed, the water within his wash basin began to ripple.
The Dark One waited with impatience for the waters to calm and the scene before him to rearrange within his make-shift palantir. He smiled in satisfaction at the sight before him.
Peter Pan.
Years before, when it became clear that the tides were, for the moment, turning against him, Rumplestiltskin knew he needed his spies within the borders of his enemies' lands, and no spy was as cunning or as capable as Peter Pan. Born an elf, Pan was blessed with the race's unnaturally long life and youthful glow. For centuries he'd appeared as a mere youth, which he'd used more than once as an asset.
One tended to let his guard down when faced with an adolescent after all.
But a spy must have various and sundry disguises at his disposal, and Rumplestiltskin was more than pleased to provide the means for such subterfuge.
Knowing the borders of Misthaven would be closed and bound by the curse, Rumplestlitskin had instead deployed Pan to Sherwood Forest in the guise of a non-descript middle-aged man going by the name Malcolm.
"Malcolm" had played his role brilliantly. He'd come to the leader of the Sherwood Merry Men with a tale of woe, some drivel about the Dark One killing his family and destroying his village. Claiming to be naught but a humble spinner, he'd begged the gullible Merry Men for asylum, and they, trusting fools that they were, had gladly offered it to him in exchange for his services for their village.
For decades Malcolm had remained in the village with his ear to the ground, but to this point, he'd yielded precious little information. The Merry Men of Sherwood Forest were a welcoming lot, but they held their secrets close to the vest.
Perhaps that was about to change.
"What news have you for me?" Rumplestiltskin began without preamble. "Something has shifted, has it not?"
Malcolm smiled. "Indeed it has, My Lord," he said, "Arendelle has fallen. Prince Hans has taken the throne and appointed his twelve brothers to positions of prominence. The last remaining kingdom, save Misthaven itself, has fallen to you."
It was excellent news, and Rumplestiltskin chortled in glee. All was working according to plan, all the pieces were beginning to fall into place.
Before Rumplestiltskin had a chance to truly gloat over his victory, a change came over his minion's face.
"There is more," he said in a low voice, his face turning grave.
"Well?" Rumplestiltskin asked after a moment of waiting.
"Something has happened within Misthaven," Malcolm said. "Gossip around the shire states that the curse has been broken, but the seal around the kingdom is yet intact. What could cause that, My Lord?"
Rumplestiltskin paced for a moment, deep in thought. "It would seem the Savior fulfilled only a portion of the requirements for the breaking of the curse. If forced to hazard a guess, I would wager Lieutenant Jones has yet to convince her to believe."
Malcolm nodded. "Then we're yet in the clear, are we not?"
"We've yet got time," Rumplestiltskin said, "but if he's conned her into falling in love with his worthless self, that time is limited."
"What are your orders?" Malcolm asked.
Rumplestiltskin sat on his bench, his fingers idly tapping on the cold, stone surface. "For the moment stay the course," he finally said, "but remain watchful. Should our situation change, we may well need to put our contingency plan in place.
Sherwood Forest, present day
"Got a letter for ya Malcolm," Will Scarlet said, dropping said missive on the log on which Pan sat, idly sharpening his sword.
"A letter?"
"Yeah," Will said, sitting down beside him, "you know, one of those things where people write words on parchment and then give it to someone else to read."
Pan rolled his eyes. He was in no mood for Scarlet's uniquely annoying brand of nonsense today. "I'm well aware of the definition of the word. How about you deliver said letter and leave me in peace."
"Ah, ah, ah," Scarlet said, "you seem to have forgotten the magic word."
Whenever he was allowed to put aside this ridiculous charade and take his true form, Pan was going to kill Scarlet. Slowly. The man could try the patience of Merlin himself.
"How's this for a magic word," Pan gritted out, "give me the damned letter before I beat you to a bloody pulp."
Will dropped the letter on the ground beside Pan, before getting to his feet and shaking his head. "You need to get that temper under control, mate or Robin might put you on outhouse duty again."
Pan grimaced, thinking back to his "leader's" particularly noxious punishment last week. Emptying and cleaning the camp's outhouses. Barbaric.
"I'll be sure to take that under advisement."
Pan waited until Will wandered away, no doubt to annoy someone else, and then he turned his attention back to the letter in hand.
Breaking the seal and unfolding the single piece of parchment, Pan read it quickly.
Circumstances have changed. Search out the hat and let Pan come out to play.
Peter Pan smiled to himself, the first real smile he'd had in ages. Finally!
Without a word to anyone, "Malcolm" got to his feet and disappeared into the woods. A moment later, the teenager, Peter Pan, emerged, tossed one last contemptuous look in the direction of Sherwood Forest, and then headed south toward Wonderland.
It was a plan years, even decades in the making, but it was flawless, elegant in it's cruelty and simplicity. It brilliantly played to Pan's unique talents.
Wonderland was two days journey to the south, and Pan passed the time on the journey reviewing the plan he and his master had painstakingly crafted.
"The Savior has given birth to a son," Rumplestiltskin had begun seven years past. "This boy is the second generation product of True Love, and as such we can assume he will be a significant stumbling block to us."
Pan had shrugged. "So I find the lad and, shall we say, remove the obstacle in our path. Shouldn't be much of a challenge to dispose of an infant."
Rumplestiltskin had shaken his head. "I'd have thought you'd think more strategically than that. The last thing we need is for the Savior and her lapdog of a lieutenant to vow revenge upon us. Should they suspect my involvement, I'll never find the dagger they've stolen from me. A more strategic approach is in order."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Given his parents," Rumplestiltskin had said, "I'd wager the boy will be both brave and idealistic. We must bide our time, wait until the boy himself brings us that which we seek."
"You think the son of the Savior will willingly bring us the dagger?" Pan asked skeptically.
"Let us just say," Rumplestiltskin had said with a nasty smile, "having a view of the future has its perks. The day will come when young Master Henry Jones is in possession of the very dagger we seek, and when that day comes, you must be ready with your particular talent for twisted games."
Pan had smiled in delight. It sounded like precisely the kind of mission he was made for.
In the months that followed, Pan maintained his deep cover within the ranks of the Merry Men, playing the part of the joyful hobbit during the day and perfecting his plans after he'd retired for the night.
There were a number of rather thorny problems he had to work through before he was prepared for the mission before him. He must find a way to open a portal, he must discover to what land the Savior had traveled so as to properly direct said portal, and he must find a way to convince the Savior's son to give him the dagger.
Pan knew full well that if he could accomplish the first two, the last would be mere child's play. Manipulation was, after all, his strong suit. How difficult could it be to bend a young lad to his will?
Land Without Magic, Present Day
Henry walked to the end of the block and then turned back to look at his house. Everything looked normal; he'd done it. He'd managed to leave without his parents being any the wiser.
Good.
So far everything was going to plan.
Unfortunately getting out of the house undetected was as far as his plan had gone. He knew he needed to somehow get to the Enchanted Forest. He knew he needed to toss the dagger into the fires of the Underworld, but the big question was how.
The book mentioned that the pieces of Excalibur had the power to open portals, but it didn't say how to go about doing it. Did he need to say something? Did he need to wave it in a certain way like they waved their wands in Harry Potter? Would he even be able to do it, or did he need to have magic?
Henry pulled out the dagger and looked at it. There was something written on it, something that started with the letter "R". Maybe if he read the word, that would do the trick.
He frowned. That was no help! He'd only just begun learning to read. There was no way he'd be able to sound out a word as long as the one on the dagger.
What was he going to do?
Henry was on the point of returning home in defeat, when suddenly he heard a distinct "psst!" from the alleyway at the end of the block. Curious he followed the noise and found himself confronted with a teenage boy with big blue eyes and wheat colored hair. The boy's eyes darted back and forth nervously as he pulled Henry into the alley with him.
"You weren't followed, were you?" the boy asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
"I don't think so," Henry said.
The boy blew out a relieved breath. "Good. That means we still have a little time. You're Henry, aren't you? Henry Jones?"
Henry took a quick step back. "How do you know who I am?"
"Everyone in the Enchanted Forest knows who you are!" the boy said. "You're the product of True Love. You're the one who's supposed to save us all!"
"Me?" Henry asked. "I'm just a little kid! How can I save anyone?"
The boy glanced down at the dagger, still in Henry's hand. "We need you, Henry," he said, his eyes pleading. "We're all in terrible danger until you destroy that dagger. We have no time to lose! A man followed me here. He wants to hurt both of us! We've got to get through a portal right away!"
There was something about the boy, something about his earnestness. Henry knew what his parents told him about trusting strangers, but this boy really needed his help; Henry could tell. A hero would help someone in need, wouldn't he?
The boy seemed to sense Henry's reluctance, and he bent down until he was on eye-level. "Henry, I know this is a lot to ask, and I know I'm a stranger to you, but I promise you I'm a friend! My name is Peter Pan, and I came here to help you."
"How?" Henry asked. "How did you get here? My dad said there weren't many ways to create portals."
"Your dad is right," Peter Pan said, "but luckily I was able to find a way. There's a man in Wonderland, goes by the title The Hatter. He has a special hat that he can use to create portals. When I told him I was coming to find you, he used his hat for me. I followed the same path your dad took when he came back to your mom. Luckily he and your Uncle Liam forgot to seal the portal, and it took me right to you."
That kind of made sense. Still...Henry wasn't sure...
"Please Henry," Peter Pan begged. "The man that followed me, his name is Malcolm, and he's a real piece of work. If he finds us before we go, we're both in big trouble! I promise I'll explain everything to you once we get back to Misthaven, but we have to go now!"
Henry hesitated for one more moment, and then nodded. "Okay, but I don't know how to open a portal."
"That's no problem," Pan insisted. "Give me the dagger. I'll open it for you."
Henry pulled the dagger close to his chest and gave Pan a skeptical look. "I'm s'posed to get rid of the dagger, right? It's dangerous. I think I have to keep it."
For a split second Henry thought he saw a look of anger pass over Peter Pan's face, but in the blink of an eye it was gone. "Okay, you're probably right," Pan said. "It's simple enough to use the dagger. Hold it out in front of you. Focus on where you want to go. Think about the Enchanted Forest."
"But I've never been there," Henry said, "I don't even know what it looks like."
"But you saw the pictures in your storybook, didn't you?" Pan asked. "Think about those. Come on Henry! I believe in you!"
Henry nodded and held the dagger out in front of him. He looked at it, and then closed his eyes tight, thinking about his favorite picture in the storybook. It was a picture of his grandparents' castle, set upon a hill by the sea. It was really pretty, and Henry would love to go there.
The first hint Henry had that it had worked was the loud, swirling sound, like a whirlpool. He opened his eyes to see a big open hole, as black and fathomless as night.
"You did it," Pan said in awe. "You opened the portal! Come on! Let's go."
Pan held out his hand, and Henry hesitated for one more second, but then nodded with resolve and took the outstretched hand.
As the two boys disappeared through the gaping portal, the force of it knocked Henry's bag open, spilling its contents. A moment later, the portal closed, the only indication that anything had happened, Henry's storybook lying abandoned in the street.
Land Without Magic Present Day
Emma stood from the couch and stretched her arms above her head, feeling the fatigue of a long day of work-not to mention the emotional toll she was still feeling after her recent freak outs with both Killian and Henry.
Nothing they said about Enchanted Forests or elves or portals or Dark Ones made any sense. At all, and yet they both stood by it like she was the crazy one.
She could understand this coming from Henry. He was seven-years-old, after all. Flights of fancy were normal for little boys and girls. It was Killian's continued insistence that troubled her the most.
He'd dropped the matter again so as not to upset her more than she already was, but she knew he was aching to discuss it with her again.
What unsettled her even more than that was the fact that she was starting to question reality as she knew it. No, their explanations didn't make sense, but neither did what happened to her on her birthday. Birthmarks didn't just jump off of people's wrists and turn into creepy, wavy daggers. That wasn't possible either, and yet it had happened.
Glancing over at the clock on the wall, Emma realized it was already 8:15. "Wow, I hadn't realized how long we sat here and talked," she said to Killian. "Guess it's time I go get Henry ready for bed."
"I can do that if you'd like, love," Killian said, getting to his feet, wrapping an arm around her middle and planting a kiss on her cheek. She loved his casual displays of affection.
"No, that's okay," she said, "after everything that's happened, I kind of, you know, feel like I should spend some extra time with him, make it up to him."
Killian looked at her with the particular knowing, understanding look that let her know he was well aware of everything she was saying-and everything she wasn't.
"Swan, I'm sure Henry would love it if you spent some time with him before bed," Killian said, "but don't think for a moment that he's angry with you over what happened. He knows how much you love him. He knows you'd never do anything to harm him."
"I hope you're right."
"I'm always right," he said with a cheeky grin, "now how about you see to our boy?"
Laughing, she jogged up the stairs and knocked on Henry's door. "'Bout time for bed, kid," she said, opening the door. "How about we-"
She stopped abruptly. His room was dark. Completely dark. Even his night light was turned off. Had he fallen asleep already? Emma turned on the light, and her unease increased. The room was empty, his bed still made as neatly as Killian had made it that morning.
"Henry?" she called, glancing toward his closet and then turning toward the bathroom down the hall. "Where are you kid?"
A quick perusal of the bathroom and the playroom revealed nothing, and it was then that her unease began to turn to fear.
"Killian?" she called down the stairs, "is Henry down there?"
A moment later, her husband appeared at the foot of the stairs, his brows furrowed. "He's not in his room?"
"No," she said, heart pounding. "He's not in his room or anywhere else up here. Henry? Where are you? Answer! If you're hiding, this isn't funny anymore!"
Killian took the stairs two at a time, bringing his hands to her arms and caressing her. "He's got to be around here somewhere. We'll find him."
They'd commenced a thorough search of the entire house, even going so far as to look in closets and under beds, but it was quickly apparent that Henry was very definitely not in the house.
Or in the garage.
Or in the yard.
Emma had just picked up the phone to start calling Henry's friends' parents, when Killian shouted from their bedroom.
"What?" she asked, running in, heart in her throat, afraid of what she might find.
"Where's the dagger, love?" Killian asked, intensity burning in his eyes. "Where did you put it?"
Emma stopped in her tracks at the odd question. "Where's the-? What? Killian what does that stupid dagger have to do with anything?"
"Please, Swan," he insisted. "This is important."
"I-I put it in the nightstand drawer," Emma stammered. "Why?"
Rather than answering, Killian turned back to the drawer in question and rummaged through, ignoring his normal penchant for keeping everything neat and tidy in favor in his haste and agitation. Finally, he turned back toward her, something like fear in his eyes.
"It's gone."
"Killian, why are you worried about a dagger when our son is missing?" she asked, her voice raising in both pitch and volume in her hysteria.
"It's something Henry said earlier today," Killian said. "He asked me about bravery, about heroes doing the right thing even when they're scared."
"And you think he, what took the dagger? Why?"
"Swan, he knows you are destined to destroy it, to save our land," Killian said. "What if he decided to do the honors himself?"
Emma's fear turned to anger. "So this is my fault?"
"No," he said, "this has nothing to do with fault, it has to do with a little boy who may well have gotten himself mixed up in something far more dangerous than he can understand. Swan, we have to find him!"
"Don't you think that's what I've been trying to do?" Emma shouted. "We should call the police, go searching, something. Now is not the time for your crazy fantasy world!"
Killian closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, before looking back at her. "I know my tale is hard to believe, impossible in fact, but I swear to you on our son's life that every word of it is true. You know something is off, Swan. I know you do! You wouldn't react with such vehemence if you didn't. I need you to trust me. Henry needs you to trust me! His safety, maybe his very life may depend on it."
Emma's anger dissipated to be replaced not by panic, as she might have expected, but by confidence, and total trust in the man standing before her.
No, none of it made sense, but they were out of sensible options.
"Okay, we'll try it your way," she said, noting the relieved breath Killian blew out. "So assuming what you're saying is true, where would Henry go? How do we find him?"
Killian paced for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he stood before her and cupped her face in his hands. "Swan, I think you're the key to that. The dagger was a part of you for twenty-eight years. No doubt you've imbued some of it's magic. Perhaps that magic can help you track it."
"Okay," she said, drawing out the word, "how exactly do I do that."
"Magic is emotion," Killian said. "Don't think, simply close your eyes and focus on Henry, on the dagger. Let your intuition take over."
Emma nodded, doing as Killian asked. For a moment nothing happened, but then, suddenly she had the strongest urge to go downstairs and head out the front door.
"That's it, love," Killian said, following her. "Follow your instincts."
Emma went as far as the sidewalk, closed her eyes again, tuning out her panic, her skepticism and tuning into her inclinations. "He went to the left."
They walked to the end of the block, but abruptly whatever was compelling her just stopped. "Killian, I don't know where to go from here!" she said.
She looked around for any clue, anything that might let them know they were at least on the right trail. Something caught her eye on the side of the road, papers rustling, was that a book? Stopping down, she picked it up, and her heart began pounding again as she turned panicked eyes toward her husband.
"Killian," she said through a suddenly dry throat. "It's his storybook. Oh gods, he wouldn't leave this behind. What happened?"
"He must have opened a portal," Killian said, startled eyes searching out hers.
"A what? Killian, you can't be serious!"
Killian took both of her hands and stepped close, looking deeply into her eyes. "Swan, I need you to believe. I know how this sounds. I know how all of this sounds. I wish I had proof to present to you, but I don't, so I need you to have faith. Swan do you trust me?"
It really came down to that, simple as it was. Did she trust him? Could she take that leap of faith?
It wasn't him she didn't have faith in.
She looked down, feeling the shame threaten to overcome her. "Of course I trust you," she said, "but...if what you are saying is right, that means I have to be this big savior or whatever, that everything depends on me, that the fate of an entire world falls on me. That is a lot."
Killian stepped forward, raising her chin so he could look in her eyes. "That is a lot, but Swan, I have complete faith in you."
"I...I'm not sure you should," she said.
"Are you kidding me Emma?" he asked with a small smile, caressing her face. "You are extraordinary, amazing. There is nothing you cannot do. You say you trust me? Trust me in this as well. Trust my faith in you."
Tears filled her eyes and began to slip down her cheeks. His faith in her was overwhelming-and the most beautiful and comforting feeling she'd ever experienced. Raising on tiptoe, she kissed him.
"Thank you." It was such a paltry phrase, couldn't begin to express her gratitude to him.
He rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing the tears from her cheek. "What say we find our son, aye? There is a portal here, I'm sure of it, just as I'm sure you possess the magic to open it."
Emma took a deep breath and stepped back. "What do I have to do?"
"Believe, Emma," he said. "Just believe and your magic will do the rest."
Believe. It was such a small word but so momentous. Could she do this? Could she turn away from every reality she'd ever known? Open herself to the possibility there was more out there?
She closed her eyes.
It still made no sense, and there was no proof, but that no longer mattered.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
Alright, it was time to take a stand. It was time to believe.
Emma opened her eyes and looked up to see a knowing smile on her husband's face. "What?" she asked.
"Look down," he said.
Tiny bursts of light, of magic, flowed from her fingertips. It was true; it was all true! Operating on pure faith, pure instinct, Emma raised her hands before her and turned until she felt a force pulling at her.
There!
Calling on all the love she had for her son, she let the magic burst forth from her. Suddenly, a tiny black hole appeared. It slowly grew and grew until it was tall and wide enough for the two of them to step through.
Emma took Killian's hand, and together, the two of them took that final leap of faith. Her destiny awaited her.
Notes:
-It has been soooooo long! I apologize for the ridiculously long delay. It's never been this long since I've updated a WIP! I got busy with Christmas fics, and then a couple of entries for the CS Neverland New Year, and then the return of Fluffy Fridays, and this story got stuck on the back burner. I'm determined, now, though, that this story will be my top fandom priority until it's finished. I'm participating in "Feed Your WIP February", and I''ve set my own personal goal to average at least 500 words every day, so with any luck, I can make a good dent in what remains to be told of this story.
-Things are really starting to heat up now! The remainder of the story will take place in the Enchanted Forest, now that all the characters are there. Things look pretty dangerous for Henry at the moment, but now that Emma's made the choice to believe and embrace her destiny, Rumplestiltskin and his minions would do well to watch their backs.
-Those of you who are Christians might recognize a certain Bible verse from the book of Hebrews there toward the end.
-Up next: Emma uses her connection to the dagger to find Henry. She and Killian track him to Pan's castle, Neverland. They stage a desperate rescue mission. Afterwards, Emma finally meets a few people she's wanted to know all her life.
