"Swan, we must talk!"
"Killian, stop."
"No, love. You can't hide behind those walls of yours, you can't cast me out like you do with the rest. I know you."
"I don't want to kick you out, I just need to rest," she growls, trying to get away from him. No matter how large the chambers Arturo has arranged for them, the room seems narrower by the minute. She walks around trying to reason with Hook, but every time he gets in the way, the bedroom loses space and oxygen. "It's been a very long night."
"I know, but there's more. I can tell, you're angry."
"Killian," she growls, stroking her forehead.
"Talk to me, Swan." A new order.
"I just want to rest!" she snaps, feeling her patience rushing out the window. The one on which Rumpelstiltskin perches, attentively watching, delighted. "May I go to sleep or are you going to forbid that too?"
"That's not fair, Swan."
"Not fair? And you holding me back against my will is? You imposing on me what I should or shouldn't do with my magic is fair?"
"I'm protecting you, Emma, it's for your own good."
"I don't need you to protect me, Killian, I'm the Savior!" she exclaims on the brink of fury.
Her words don't stop Rumpelstiltskin from laughing nor stop Hook from insisting. "Now you're also something else."
"Believe me, I know," she growls, letting her eyes drift to the windowsill.
Rumpelstiltskin waves his hand delightedly singing, "Hello!"
"Then you must understand why we do it."
"Don't say 'we'. You are the only one here pushing me to say what you want to hear. You are the only one who grabs me every time I try to take a step alone, you and only you order me what to do at every moment."
"That's not true."
"If we hadn't been able to save Regina tonight, you would have been much to blame."
"You're not the one speaking, Swan."
"The hell it's not me, Killian! If I could have cast a minimal, harmless protection spell, even that bloody assassin would be alive by now. But no, you couldn't allow the Savior to act on her own. Because you and only you know what's best for me, right?"
"You're not being fair, Swan," he repeats, approaching her regardless of the steps Emma takes back when she sees him get closer.
"Don't let him," Rumpelstiltskin mutters. Emma focuses on ignoring him. But when she blinks, she has Hook right in front of her and the damn Imp's laugh in her ears. "Snap your fingers and take care of him."
"I need space, Killian."
"One little spell and his neck will pop."
"Let's go to sleep and tomorrow you'll see things better, love," Hook decides, circling her waist in a gesture that mixes softness with a clear push toward the bed.
"NO!" she screams, breaks the air with her voice to the point that the pirate's body flies back several feet, landing almost at the other end of the room. If he doesn't fall backwards, it's because he stumbles and regains balance.
Emma breathes out of herself, scared. Observing what's clearly the effect of her magic. She doesn't need Rumpelstiltskin's voice exclaiming, "very good, excellent!" to know what's she's done. She feels her arm burn, her heart pounding and her mind more blurred by moments.
She must look considerably scaring, because Hook raises his arms in surrender and says, "I'll wait for you to calm down, Swan, but I'll be back when you can handle this properly."
Emma's eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything, and Hook reaches out and puffs out his chest proudly as if to counter the effect of his hurrying out of the room.
When left alone, the room doesn't regain its size nor does the oxygen return to the space held by the four stone walls. Maybe because of her rearing heart rate. Or maybe because of the Imp who comes down from the window just to scold her.
"You're dying to do to it, why do you hold back?"
"Leave me alone."
"No, Emma Swan. I'm here for you to finally listen to yourself. Stop holding yourself back. Now you are free, majestic, powerful. If a mangy pirate gives you an order, you rip out his heart. Or the liver. Whatever you are most inclined to. It's is not so common but just as effective. And more agonizing," he mutters, meditating to himself.
"I won't do it. We're not the same. You may be in my head, but you'll never be me."
"Oh, dear, but I already am."
"No."
"Are you sure? Why have your insides screamed for my name and my power when you saw Regina and Hood hugging? Acknowledge it. What a way to summon me, what tasty rage."
"That's not…"
"The poor little orphan thought she had given a true love kiss. Isn't it cute?" he asks stroking her cheek until Emma pulls away showing her teeth. "You, always the last, the last for all, the lonely Savior. Still believing you have the right to authentic love. Poor deluded, pathetic thing. But you did well to call me, I will protect you."
"I didn't call you," she spits, walking in circles.
"Maybe not by my name, but the way your heart clouded… Oh, what a delight. You're getting closer to me by moments."
"That's not true," she huffs very slowly to make sure she doesn't stutter.
"It isn't? And I suppose neither the mark of that smooth skin of yours is not a thing, either?"
"What?" she murmurs doubtfully, but unconsciously pushing the cloth off her right arm. There, along her forearm, shiny, white, scratchy scales claw their way down almost to her wrist.
"Is that also not true?" Rumpelstiltskin celebrates by patting.
Oxygen has run out, the walls press against her body on each side, the ceiling begins to collapse unceremoniously. She needs to get out of here.
To be continued...