Chapter 6

Emma banged lightly on Robin's door, not wishing to rouse anyone other the man whose help she desperately needed. Her eyes scanned the darkness around her as she waited for a reply, wondering if patrols were a part of the village's security. With an open palm, she pounded on the door again, with an added whispered shout of Robin's name.

The door swung open and a blurry eyed Margot greeted her. "Miss Emma? Is everything okay?"

"Yes… I mean, no. I need… can you wake your father for me?" Emma's voice shook with the urgency that fluttered in her chest and swirled in her gut.

"He isn't here. He's on guard duty tonight. On the back wall."

"Thanks, Margot."

Emma didn't wait for the girl's reply before she took off towards the back wall that separated the village from the lake. With any luck, Robin would be able to tell her if what she needed grew in any of the community gardens, and which one she might find it in.

After realizing Killian's foot had developed an infection, Emma had dug out the book of herbal remedies she'd brought with her, sending up prayers of thanksgiving that she'd thought to packed it at the last moment. She knew the recipes within were effective. Ingrid had used the volume to treat Graham, and his injuries had been far worse than Killian's. That didn't minimize the danger he was in though, or the worry that coursed through Emma as she arrived out of breath at the back gate.

"Robin?" she called out to the watchtower, looming overhead.

A familiar face glanced at her from over the rail, but it wasn't Robin's. It was that of the young man she'd seen conversing with Killian at the celebration while Robin had shown her the forge.

"What are you doing out at this time of night?" the young man asked with a demanding edge to his tone. "It's past curfew."

Curfew. Right. Forgot about that, Emma thought as she remembered the village rules Killian had laid out for her after their conversation the night before.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I need to speak to Robin. It's urg-"

"Emma?" Robin's voice spoke from behind her, causing her to spin around. "What's wrong?"

"It's Killian." Emma hurried towards him and lowered her voice so she wouldn't be overheard. "He's got a fever. His foot, it's… I think it's infected, and I nee-"

"Come. We'll wake Eloise."

Robin began to lead her towards the children's quarters, but Emma's hand shot out to stop him. "No!"

"Emma, I know it isn't ideal, but Eloise is our only healer. She'll be able to help."

"I don't need her help," Emma snapped with a bit more force than Robin deserved. "I know how to treat Killian's wound and fever, I just need a few things. Do you know if the village has yarrow?"

Robin's brow scrunched together. "I'm not sure I even know what that is, but if it's used medicinally, then it'll be in Eloise's garden." He paused, conflicting emotions swirling behind his eyes before he exhaled heavily. "It's on the south side of the building. If you're quiet, no one will know you're there." Before Emma could rush off, Robin grabbed onto her elbow. "How bad is he?"

The concern on Robin's face and in his voice sent a swell of tears to her eyes. "The wound never closed. I'm going to have to cauterize it and hope that stops the infection from entering his bloodstream. If it hasn't already."

Robin sucked in an alarmed breath, and swallowed hard. "What's the yarrow for?"

"To hopefully get the fever down, and to treat the burn," Emma answered quietly, trying not to think about the agony she'd have to put him through in order to keep him from getting worse. She wasn't even sure how she was going to manage it, she just knew it had to be done.

"How can I help?"

Emma's eyes flicked up to Robin's. A look of sheer determination rested on his face, the conflict within him seemingly resolved, and she silently thanked God again for providing in her hour of need.

"Go to the forge and grab one of my irons," she instructed. "Don't heat it there. I don't want to wake the whole village. We'll have to try and get it hot enough in the cabin stove. I'll go collect the yarrow and meet you there."

Robin nodded then made his way toward the back gate. "Gideon," he called out to the young man in the watchtower, clearly observing the exchange she and Robin just had. "Miss Emma needs my help with Elder Killian. He's fallen ill. Nick will be along soon and the two of you can finish watch together."

The young man, Gideon, gave Robin a nod of understanding before he and Emma headed back towards the residences.

"The gate squeaks," Robin informed her before they went their separate ways. "Don't open it more than halfway and you should be fine."

Emma thanked him and set off once more, the faint glow from her lantern lighting her way. Heeding his words, Emma opened the gate only as far as she needed to before slipping into the garden. The pungent scent of earth and herbs filled her sinuses, and she couldn't help but be awed at the sight before her. Rows of carefully cultivated plants, rich with blooms and foliage, filled the beds, giving testimony of the skillful hands responsible for their thriving existence.

If only those hands had ever shown such regard for the people in her life, Emma thought bitterly.

Silently, she crept through the rows until she spotted the distinct cluster of delicate white flowers. Emma pulled Killian's small boot knife from the pouch she'd brought to collect the herbs, and cut off a sizable stalk of the yarrow. She spent a few more moments collecting other ingredients she'd need and was about to head back when a green glow caught her eye.

Emma pulled back the leafy foliage of a fern and gasped. Growing beneath was a mushroom, shimmering with a bioluminescence she'd only ever heard described to her by Graham. One side of its cap was weirdly shaped and upon closer inspection Emma realized it had been sliced with a sharp edge. Prickles of unease erupted along her arms and up the back of her neck, and something in her gut reacted with the wrongness Emma sensed about the fungus. Without hesitation she plucked it from the ground then searched the area to see if others were sprouting within the garden, but found none.

Emma wrapped the mushroom in a cloth and placed it in the pouch with the other items she'd collected. Perhaps there would be something in Ingrid's book that could help identify its type. It would have to wait though. She had a more pressing matter to tend to, one she dreaded with each footfall back to cabin.

~/~

It was sweltering in the cabin. A far cry from the chill that had permeated it earlier when Emma had offered to share the bed after Killian had given her his blanket. Beads of sweat glistened over his brow even as he shivered from the fever raging within him.

Emma pulled the iron from the fires of the stove, the end glowing bright but not quite as hot as she'd hoped. It would have to do.

"Ready?" she asked Robin, who nodded and climbed onto the bed.

He propped Killian up then slid behind him, bracing him against his chest. "Mate," he said, trying to rouse their incoherent patient. "Mate, I need you to bite down on this."

Robin forced Killian's mouth open and placed a leather belt between his teeth. Killian hadn't really roused beyond the odd babbles and mutterings, but Emma and Robin both knew once the iron seared his skin he'd be fully cognizant of the pain. Robin wrapped his limbs tightly around Killian and Emma approached his foot, which was tied down, secured to the end of the bed to keep it in place while she cauterized the wound.

Emma knew that each delayed moment would cool the iron, drawing out the process and Killian's agony. So, it was without hesitation that Emma pressed the heated metal into the reddened flesh of Killian's injury and choked back bile and tears at Killian's muffled scream. His leg jerked and his back arched, but Robin and the restraint kept him still enough. The chords in his neck were stretched taut and tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes. His chest heaved, and a pained, pleading sound reverberated from behind the straps clenched in his teeth.

Satisfied that the wound was now thoroughly sealed, Emma removed the iron. Killian went limp, slumping against Robin as he pulled in labored sobbing breaths. As much as she wanted to comfort him, she had to inspect and treat the burn first. After applying the yarrow poultice over the area, Emma lightly wrapped his foot to keep the healing pack in place. She then used the plant and other herbs, steeped in water that had been heating on the stove, to create a tea. With Robin's help, they managed to get Killian to take several swallows before he passed out from a combination of pain and the still present fever.

"I added a few things to the tea that will act as a sedative," she told Robin. "With luck, he'll sleep until morning."

"Luck, and perhaps a bit of prayer," Robin suggested.

He set the desk chair next to the bed while Emma filled a basin with cool water Robin had gathered from the well earlier. She sat the basin on the bedside table next to some clean linens she'd found in the wardrobe then sat down in the chair.

"I don't think I've stopped praying since I discovered the infection," she said, dipping a cloth in the water and wringing out the excess before pressing it against Killian's face, blotting his cheeks and forehead.

Robin knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her knee. "Then let me take up that burden, so you can focus on helping him get better."

Tears pooled in Emma's eyes, and she nodded her head. As Robin sent up his petitions, head bowed and eyes reverently closed, Emma never took her gaze off Killian. His breathing was shallow and labored, and expressions of pain periodically twitched across his face. Gently, Emma swept the wisps of hair that had fallen over his face off his forehead. He turned into her touch, his lashes still resting against the tops of his cheeks and lips barely parted as a content sigh passed over them. She ran her hand through his hair again, the soft, silken strands clinging to her fingers from their dampness which left them sticking up in odd angles in her wake.

It wasn't until she heard the door close that she realized Robin had ended the prayer and excused himself. She had no idea how many hours she sat by Killian's side, running cool cloths over the exposed skin of his head, neck, and chest. It wasn't until she caught herself falling sideways out of the chair, half asleep, that she moved to the sofa to close her eyes for a bit. Before sleep fully claimed her, she sent one last prayer to the heavens, beseeching God for his healing over Killian and for strength in having to tell Alice about her ailing Papa the following day.

~/~

A rap of knocks brought Emma round the next morning, with wakefulness completely taking hold when the door to the cabin swung open. She sat up abruptly, and her body tensed as Neal waltzed in. His eyes were fixed on Killian's sleeping form, but soon turned their attentions to her. A glint of something triumphant gleamed in his eye, causing Emma to pull the extra blanket she'd plucked from the bed up to her chin.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said without a hint of apologetic remorse. "I was informed of Killian's illness, and I felt compelled to come check up on him. How is he?"

"As well as can be expected," she answered softly, not wishing to wake her patient. Her defenses couldn't help but compare the man looming in the doorway to a snake poised to strike at any moment, keeping her still and alert. "He seems to have rested comfortably over night."

"More comfortably than you, I imagine." His eyes flitted over her, taking in the expanse of the sofa. "Have you been sleeping there since you arrived?"

Emma understood the meaning behind his question immediately, the inference that she and Killian might not be as intimate as they had tried to let on. The implications of such a realization, and the fact that Killian was too ill to object a proposed transfer of Sponsorship sent a trail of dread slithering down her back.

"Of course not," she replied truthfully. "I left the bed last night because I wanted to make sure Killian got the rest he needed. I didn't want to disturb him or jostle his injury with my presence."

"But he shared the hospitality of his bed with you before he became ill? I'd hate to think he wasn't caring for you as he should."

"Yes. Killian has cared for me perfectly well." Not that it's any of your damn business, she finished silently. "And now I'm doing the same for him."

"Yes, I can see that. I'm glad he seems to be doing well," Neal said with a distinct lack of gladness in his tone and expression.

"He isn't out of the woods yet." Emma looked over at Killian in time to see a shiver course over his body. The fever still waging war within him. "But if we can keep the fever down, he stands a good chance of recovering."

"We?"

Emma's eyes snapped back to Neal. Something in the inflection he applied to the word made her defenses shoot back up.

"Uh, Robin assisted me last night, and I figured he'd be by soon to check on-"

"Yes," Neal interrupted. "Seems he came to your aid instead of remaining at his post, leaving my brother to see to the protection of the back wall on his own."

"Your brother? Gideon is your brother?"

"Half brother, but yes."

Emma thought back to the conversation she'd had with Killian. When she'd asked about the turning point, the first of many compromises that allowed the village to become so corrupt, and he'd told her of a girl named Belle that Neal's father had sponsored.

"She was brought to the village not long after my father disappeared. She and a few others, survivors of the pestilence, wishing to join the community for protection. I think she must have been about fifteen or sixteen? She was sponsored by the Cassidys, but a few months later it became apparent that something… untoward was happening."

"What do you mean?"

"Belle began to show."

"She was pregnant?"

"Aye. By Neal's father. A man old enough to be her father."

Gideon must be the child Belle had given birth to.

"I understand why you went to Robin first," Neal commented, pulling Emma from her thoughts. "His cabin is the closest to yours." He walked towards the sofa and sat on the opposite end. Emma pulled her knees to her chest, creating as much space between them as possible. "But he has many responsibilities," he continued. "To the village, to his children. I told you to come to me should you have any troubles. I hope next time you find yourself in need, you'll do just that."

Despite the smile on his face the intent of his threat was quite clear. He placed a hand on her knee and it took every ounce of restraint she possessed to not flinch away from his touch.

"I only have your best interest at heart, Emma."

"That's very kind of you," she managed to respond, choking back the disgust rising up from her churning stomach.

His meaty hand squeezed her knee in reply. A show of some assumed solidarity before his fingertips brushed lightly along the outside of her blanket covered calf as he removed his hand. Emma shuddered from the touch and the look of lust that swirled in his gaze, sending her pulse to race in panic. Surely he wouldn't try anything with Killian, even in his incapacitated state, lying only a few feet away.

Fortunately, she didn't have to find out.

Another series of knocks tapped against the door, and Emma called out a hurried invitation for whoever it was to enter. Relief washed over her when Margot appeared.

"Oh! I'm sorry," the young girl said. "I didn't mean to intrude-"

"You're not," Emma blurted out with a tight smile of her face. "Mr. Cassidy was just leaving." She turned back to the man who was silently seething from the interruption. "I appreciate you coming by, but would hate to keep you from your duties."

He offered his own insincere smile and rose from the sofa. "Of course. Remember what I said, Sister Emma. Don't hesitate to call upon me if you need anything."

Emma let go the breath she'd been holding as soon as he exited the cabin, and ran a shaky hand over her hair, waiting for her heart to calm.

"Is everything okay?" Margot asked with concern.

Although she suspected Margot was wise beyond her years, and probably knew full well what evil lurked beneath the surface of the village, it wasn't a reality Emma wanted to burden her with unnecessarily. Taking in a deep breath, she threw the blanket off herself and made her way over to Margot.

"Everything's fine," she said with a soft smile. "I'm just worried for Killian."

"That's why I'm here," Margot informed her. "I want to help, and I thought you might need a break."

Emma would totally blame the spontaneous hug she gave the girl on her emotional exhaustion later. "Thank you," she murmured before pulling back and wiping away the moisture that had unexpectedly appeared in the corner of her eyes.

"Don't mention it," Margot shrugged shyly. "I like Killian. He's always been kind with me and Roland, probably because he doesn't get much of a chance to spend time with Alice. Does she know?"

Margot's face displayed a deep concern for Killian's daughter, and Emma wondered if the two girls had ever had much of a chance to be friends.

"Not yet," she replied, moving to Killian's side. She didn't like the pallor of his skin at all, and she could feel the increased heat coming off him without having to even touch him. "Why don't you help me treat and redress his wound, and I'll go visit Alice while you sit with him?"

Margot nodded in agreement and the two set to work. Emma was relieved to see that the red streaks had faded from Killian's foot. The burn was still rather painful, based on the moans and whimpers coming from him as a new poultice was applied and secured with a fresh bandage. Emma added the extra blanket over his trembling form and worried her lip at the scorch of his skin beneath her palm when she placed it against his forehead.

"Might be a good idea to keep a cool compress on his forehead," she told Margot. "I'll get you some fresh water before I go."

Emma collected the water and poured some in the basin then filled the kettle with the rest. Stoking the embers in the stove back to life she added, "When he wakes I need you to make him some tea. I've made a sachet of the herbs for you to steep. Don't let them go for too long or it'll make it too bitter for him to drink."

With Margot's assertions that she understood what was expected of her, Emma hurriedly got ready and left the cabin with one specific destination in mind. It was time to talk to Alice.

~/~

"Miss Emma!" Alice exclaimed, launching herself at Emma and wrapping her arms around her waist, just as she had when they'd first met. "I'm so happy you came to see me. Is Papa with you?" Alice looked behind Emma expectantly then up at her with curious eyes.

"No, Alice. I'm afraid he isn't."

Emma took the girl's hand and led her back to the small bed that took up much of her room. Heavy curtains covered the windows, protecting Alice from sunlight which Emma knew was harmful to her because of her mysterious condition. Despite the dim lighting of the room, it had a cheeriness about it. Colorful drawings littered the walls, and an easel was set up in one corner with a rendering of a ship bathed in moonlight upon the vast ocean.

"Do you like it?" Alice asked when she noticed Emma studying the painting.

"It's lovely. You're quite the artist."

"So is Papa," Alice said with a hint of pride. "He taught me to draw and how to mix paints. He brought me a postcard with a picture of that ship on it, and I wanted to make it into a painting as a gift for him… and you."

"A gift? For me?" Emma sat down on the bed next to Alice who beamed up at her.

"Of course. You and Papa are tied. That makes you family."

Emma's breath caught in her chest, and her insides twisted in guilt. Family. That was something she never thought she'd ever have again, which made her and Killian's ruse all the more complicated. She'd hoped the village might provide her that sense of belonging before she learned the truth, and had been diligently suppressing any feelings of attachment so that it would be easier to cut all ties once they managed to escape. She'd never expected Alice to get attached, especially so quickly, but then… she hadn't expected she would either. Emma couldn't pretend there weren't people she'd already come to care about, and she hated to think how hurt Alice would be when she learned the truth about her and Killian.

"Thank you, Alice," Emma said in a strained voice. "I will treasure it." Alice's smile widened, exposing an adorably awkward toothy grin, and Emma noted some distinct differences in the girl's appearance from their first meeting. "How are you feeling, Alice? You had us pretty worried."

"Oh, I feel much better," she assured brightly. "Mother said this latest episode wasn't as bad as others I've had. She said that's probably why I've bounced back so quickly, even if I endangered myself by leaving my room that night."

Anger flared in Emma's gut at the shrunken demeanor Alice wore as she spoke, clearly reliving whatever admonishment her mother had doled out in response to Alice's act of defiance. An act of defiance they might need her to repeat at some point in the near future.

"Alice," Emma began on little more than a whisper. When she'd appeared at the children's quarter's door earlier, an older child had let her in and directed her to Alice's room. They'd said Eloise had given permission for the visit, but they now had to go fetch her and let her know Emma was there. She expected the woman to appear at any moment. "How did you get out of your room? Your papa said you've never snuck out before, he didn't know you knew how. He isn't upset with you," she added quickly, covering the girl's hand with her own. "He and I are just… curious."

"I didn't sneak out," Alice insisted, a little too quickly. "Mother left the doors unlocked."

Even without the guilty expression flickering in those all too familiar blue eyes, Emma knew she wasn't telling the truth. "I see," Emma replied with a tone that conveyed she wasn't buying Alice's story. "Do you think your mother might forget to lock the doors again sometime?"

"Maybe," Alice responded slyly, her father's influence dancing over her features. "Are we to have an adventure? Papa used to go on adventures at night before I got ill. Does he still? Have you gone on adventures together?"

"We haven't yet," Emma answered, a smile tugging at her lips from the excitement bubbling up in the girl before her. "But we hope to soon." Her face pinched, and her eyes fell to where her hand still covered Alice's. She took the girl's hand into her own and brought her gaze back up. "Alice… there's something I need to tell you. About your papa."

"Did he get caught up with Elder business? Will he be here soon?"

Emma swallowed thickly. "No. He's ill, I'm afraid."

Alice's eyes widened, and tears pooled in her eyes. "Ill? How?"

"Did Killian tell you how he injured his foot when we were traveling back to the village?"

"He said it was a bear trap."

"That's right. His foot got caught and it left several wounds. One of the wounds hasn't healed properly, and last night he developed a fever." Alice gasped and tears slipped over her lashes. Emma clasped her hand a little tighter. "Elder Robin and I were able to treat the wound, and he's resting now. I won't tell you not to worry, but I promise you… I will do everything I can to help your papa get better."

Alice pitched forward and Emma was ready for her embrace this time, wrapping her arms tightly around the young girl as she sniffled into her shoulder.

Rushed footfalls resonated down the hallway, preceding another child who appeared in Alice's doorway. "Miss Emma? Margot is here. She says you're to come quickly."

Worry spiked in each of Emma's nerve endings, but she kept her expression calm as Alice pulled back and looked up at her in panic.

"Is it Papa?"

"Yes, Alice. I have to go." She reached up and took the girl's face in her hands, staring into her fearful blues with a look of unwavering sincerity. "I promise to look after him, and I'll send someone later to keep you updated."

She moved to stand, but Alice stopped her. "Will you come back?"

"Of course, I will," Emma answered tenderly. "I'll see you tomorrow, if not sooner."

"Okay." Appeased, the girl let Emma go with one last request. "Please, tell Papa I'll be praying for him, and… I love him."

"I will."

~/~

Emma arrived back at the cabin to find Robin pacing at the foot of the bed. The light tremble had intensified within Killian, causing him to shiver violently as his teeth chattered audibly throughout the room.

"He never woke up for me to give him the tea," Margot explained. "He just kept getting hotter and hotter, so I had Roland go get Dad. As soon as he saw Killian, he told me to fetch you."

"We have to get the fever down," Emma muttered to herself, which seemed to echo Robin's thoughts as he voiced his agreement. Before they could discuss options of how to accomplish that, Eloise's voice grated from the doorway.

"Why was I not told of Killian's illness?"

"I didn't feel it necessary to bother you with it," Emma answered curtly.

"Didn't feel it necessary?" Eloise parroted back, an incensed note chording through her words. "I am the village healer. It is always necessary to-"

"I didn't want to take your focus from Alice," Emma cut in with false cordiality. "Killian wouldn't want you to neglect her needs for him. As her mother, I'm sure you can understand his wishes."

Eloise stiffened at the thinly veiled slight of Emma's inflection, and narrowed her eyes in a glare. "Of course I can understand his desire to put Alice before himself, but what good has that done him? What good have you done him?"

"She cauterized the wound," Robin interjected. "And treated it with herbs. The injury is much improved, but the fever… we have to get the fever down. I thought you said the tea would help with that?"

"It will," Emma said, ignoring Eloise's continued glare. "I just need to increase the amount of yarrow. Last night it must have been too diluted to have the proper effect."

"Where did you get yarrow?" Eloise questioned suspiciously.

"From your garden."

"Who gave you the right to-"

"I did," Robin vouched for her sharply. "If you wish to quarrel with someone, Eloise, then quarrel with me. Emma came to me for assistance, and I acted in what I felt was everyone's best interest."

Emma held her breath and kept silent, stunned that Robin would invite the woman's wrath upon himself.

"The tea might well prove effective, but I think drastic action needs to take place to get his fever down first," Robin continued on in urgency. "I propose we take him to the lake."

"You can't be serious?" Eloise scoffed.

"Full submersion in the cold water is the fastest way to-"

"Has it not occurred to you that the lake water might well be what got him in this condition in the first place? If he hadn't insisted on Sponsoring this… woman, he never would have gone into the lake with a wound vulnerable to bacteria and infection."

"Are you suggesting this is my fault?" Emma seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides.

"I'm saying, that matters of a community member's health ought to be left in the hands of the village healer," Eloise countered.

"Killian isn't just another community member," Robin argued. "He's an Elder."

"All the more reason to not risk him getting worse by reintroducing the lake water to his wound."

"Killian would risk it," Robin stated solemnly, addressing his next words to Emma. "His mother died from a blood infection. Her fever got out of control so quickly she had a seizure from it before anyone even realized how sick she was. She never regained consciousness after that." Emma's heart constricted painfully in her chest, from the pain of grief she felt for Killian losing his mother in such a way and the fear that she might lose him in exactly the same manner. "He's your Sponsor, Emma." Robin reminded them all. "The choice of how to proceed is ultimately yours to make."

Emma looked over at Killian, his skin pale and clammy with fever, dark shadows cast beneath his eyes from the fitful rest he'd been plagued with from his illness. Her throat tightened and a familiar pang of fear gripped her chest; one she'd experienced when it had been a rifle threatening him, and her choice the only hope he had of coming out of the encounter unscathed. An encounter that had made her realize she didn't want to lose him.

Emma shook the memory from her mind, and buried the feelings it threatened to dredge up. That wasn't what this was about. She needed Killian in order to get out of this place, and Alice needed her papa. She'd promised Alice that she'd do everything she could to help Killian, and despite the risk, there would be no hope if they didn't get the fever down.

"Let's get him to the lake."

~/~

Killian groaned, his body jostling uncomfortably over Robin's shoulders. Consciousness had teased him several times with a haze that clouded his mind leaving him vaguely cognizant of voices buzzing in his ears. He was ill, that much he was aware of. An agonizing throb pounded in his foot, but it paled in comparison to the ache of his stiff joints, tightly compressed in a futile effort to stop his muscles from contracting with each degree of his rising temperature.

A blast of cold air tore another moan from him and his body convulsed, forcing Robin to tighten his hold of him. Where were they taking him? His mind must have briefly slipped back into unconsciousness, because he suddenly heard Robin give the order to open the back gate. Killian tried to lift his head from where it hung, his eyes stubbornly refusing to cooperate while his ears strained to tune into the muffled voices taunting the edge of his hearing.

Another shiver rolled over him then he was unexpectedly assaulted with the slicing sting of a thousand blades, only barely registering that he'd been set on his feet in the frigid lake water before he began lashing out with wild swings of his arms and screams of outrage.

"Killian! Mate, stop!"

Hands grasped for him, arms tried to subdue him, but he fought against them, stumbling aimlessly for the bank as his heart thundered in his chest. A rough shove sent him flailing backward and he lost his fragile balance entirely. His lungs seized and his entire body went rigid from the excruciating cold that crashed over him when he fell beneath the surface of the water, making him sink like a stone. Pain induced adrenaline snapped him back into full reality and panic began to set in when he was unable to combat the paralysis that had laid siege upon his extremities.

Arms enveloped him from behind, lifting him up to the surface where a painful breath involuntarily gasped back into his lungs. The surface of the water rippled and danced around him even though he remained petrified in his rescuer's hold. When the chattering sound of his teeth made its way to his ears, he realized the disturbance of the water was from his own violent shaking.

"Killian, listen to me," sweet words murmured against his cheek, alleviating the panic that screamed at him to fight. "I know it hurts, but we have to get your fever down. Please, Killian. Stop fighting, and let me help you."

Her voice was calm, clear, and captivating like a siren luring him to his demise, seducing him to let down his guard and succumb to her embrace. He gave in willingly to her wishes, focusing his mind on the rhythm of her shallow breaths as her breasts swelled and contracted against his back. His head tilted back, settling into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and her arms tightened around him.

"E-Em-ma," he stuttered, his strained voice as shaky as the rest of his body.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I've got you. Stay with me, Killian. Stay with me."

"Em-ma," he exhaled once more, giving in to the welcomed oblivion beckoning him back.

"Killian?"

He felt her hand tap against his cheek, but the pull of the darkness was too great.

"Killian," she said with greater urgency, a hint of fear catching in the back of her throat.

Why was she afraid? He wasn't.

"Killian!"

What was there to fear? His Swan had him now.

"Killian, please! Killian… come back to me." He heard her breathe on half a sob before surrendering to the quiet of infinite blackness.

~/~

Emma sat watching the flames in the stove dance as they devoured the newest sacrifice she'd fed to the fire. Their wood supply was running low, she'd have to chop more tomorrow before heading to the forge. Necessary duties, but ones she'd gladly shirk in favor of staying by Killian's side if she had the choice.

Eloise wasn't going to give her that choice.

After they'd gotten Killian's fever down, Emma had to endure Eloise's snarked accusations of how she'd nearly killed him with the shock of the water. They hadn't though. Killian had never stopped breathing, his heart had continued to thrum beneath her palm splayed across his chest even after he'd gone totally limp in her arms. Both of those facts hadn't kept her fear entirely at bay, though.

She didn't think she'd taken a proper breath, or relaxed any part of herself until they had him out of the water and back in the cabin, dried, dressed, and deposited safely back in bed. How they managed to force the tea down him in his half-conscious state, she'd never know, but he'd swallowed every drop without protest when she'd murmured into his ear how important it was that he do so.

Robin had insisted she go eat after that. Already well past midday and her stomach audibly agreeing with the man, she couldn't muster up an excuse to refuse. Margot had kindly offered to go tell Alice how her papa was doing, but Eloise had put her foot down. Alice was to receive no more visitors that day. Emma hated the gratitude she'd felt when Neal - who had arrived on the banks when Killian finally relaxed in her arms, and had stood watching when she emerged from the water, her clothes clinging to her as indecently as his gaze did - spoke up on her behalf, and insisted she be able to visit Alice tomorrow with an update of how Killian had fared overnight.

Night was just now beginning to fall, and Emma was ready to fall with it. Having already drawn fresh water from the well, and prepared the stove to warm the cabin for several more hours, her only remaining task was to prepare the next sachet of herbs for the tea Killian would need to drink first thing in the morning.

Emma dumped out the remaining ingredients still left in the pouch onto the desk, and furrowed her brow at the forgotten cloth wrapped mushroom that rolled out from its covering. Its luminosity was not nearly as vibrant against the flickering of the open stove and lantern light she was working by, but its eerie green glimmer was still visible along its shaved cap. Setting it aside, Emma set to work prepping the herbs then grabbed Ingrid's book before settling herself on the bed next to a slumbering Killian. It was because the lantern hook on the wall beside the bed gave her better light to read by than when the lantern sat on the small sofa table, she told herself.

Lying to yourself, you mean. Where are those carefully constructed walls you were building back up before a tragic backstory, endearing girl, and two pairs of matching blue eyes had you halting their fortification?

Swatting the thought away in irritation, she turned the pages until she reached the section on fungi. A brief skim led her to the entry she'd hoped to find. Her grip on the edges of the book made her knuckles go white as she read the words, which became bathed in a wash of red from the rage they incited.

Below the crude illustration and brief visible description read:

The Gothel Mushroom

/Got-hel/ meaning "Godmother" or "God held"

This bioluminescent fungus grows as a solitary stalk beneath ferns and other leafy foliage. A potent toxin with regenerative properties, its cap will regrow if cut, therefore it is prudent to remove the entire stalk from the earth. Symptoms of muscle weakness and sensitivity to daylight are evident if ingested, with vomiting and seizures occurring in extreme cases. The mushroom's toxins metabolize quickly, making exposure rarely fatal. Symptoms subside within a matter of hours (or a few days with prolonged exposure) once the last bit of the fungus leaves the subject's system.

Emma snapped the book closed and set it beside her on the bed. Her hands shook with fury, her breaths a series of enraged pants as she stared at the mushroom lying innocuously atop Killian's desk. All these years, how many times had it healed itself from the systematic slices Eloise had taken from its caps? How often had the woman dosed her own child with its poisonous effects then stood idly by as she watched Alice become debilitated to the point of violent convulsions? When had she last cut a section off the toadstool, allowing it to act as Godmother while its toxins baptised the child in a wash of solitude and imprisonment?

It didn't matter.

"What matters," Emma said aloud to Killian's sleeping form. "Is that it will never hurt your starfish again."

Getting up from the bed, Emma plucked the Gothel mushroom from the desk and tossed it into the stove fire. It sizzled and popped with sparks of green before flaring up in a flash of all consuming flames, quickly rendering it to ash. Emma closed the feed door and sucked in a calming breath before returning to bed. The lingering ire left simmering in her gut had her tossing and turning for far too long, and she was about to move to the sofa out of concern she'd disturb Killian when he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around her.

Thoroughly exhausted in body and spirit, Emma didn't hesitate to turn into the comfort of his embrace. Though still quite warm, she found the gentle heat radiating off his skin as well as the even keel of his restful breaths soothing, and it was only a matter of minutes before she felt the welcomed pull of sleep. Tomorrow, she told herself, snuggling deeper into Killian's arms, the walls go back up tomorrow.