Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Once Upon a Time. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.
Additional Disclaimer: Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show. Props to the writers for those little tidbits.
Author's Note: So, I actually looked up some fencing terms for this. Not that I know how to fence, but Hook knows; he was clearly well-trained. Have you ever gone back and watched Hook's fights with Rumple or Blackbeard? It's not as choreographed as duel between Inigo Montoya and Westley from The Princess Bride, for which Cary Elwes and Mandy Patinkin practiced for months and months to execute, but they're still pretty good, especially the sword interplay (or, in fencing terms, "conversation") with Blackbeard in season 3's "The Jolly Roger." Also, on a side note, if you haven't read As You Wish, by Mr. Elwes, you should.
Also, yes, I drew a map of the Enchanted Forest to try and keep straight where all the kingdoms are in relation to one another, the coast, and the mountain ranges in my head. It took several tries to get a map that made sense, especially in relation to the accents of the characters, which is pretty arbitrary on the show. Oi!
Once again, thank you to my amazing beta, Willofthewisp! She pushed me to make sure I included the hand-wrapping scene, and so I made sure to work it in.
Chapter 10: An Equal Reaction
Killian and David rode as quickly as their appropriated horses could take them over the rocky mountainside. The horses had not wanted to venture into the darkness of the cave tunnel through which Emma had directed them, following the only path the Black Knights could have taken into the high valley. So the two men had had to dismount, blindfold the horses, and lead them through the tunnel with a dim and smoking torch cobbled together from a short branch David cut from a tree swaddled in a spare shirt Killian had found in one of the pilfered saddlebags to light their way. Killian had never considered himself to be claustrophobic, easily able to sleep in the tiny quarters aboard most ships, but the idea of the mountain suddenly giving way and crushing them to globby smears as they tried to pass through the cavern had him nearly as jittery as the horses. He was never so glad to see the sky as when they reached the other side.
And what a difference a tunnel made. This side of the mountain held much kinder terrain than the one they had spent days climbing. The eastern side of the mountain was a far gentler slope, for one thing. No natural terraces, no narrow rocky canyons. If this was the way the Black Knights had come, no wonder they had made it so quickly to the lake. They would not have had to fight the steep inclines the other side of the mountain boasted. He spared a moment to wonder if Rumpelstiltskin had sent them the direction he had in hopes that they would fail—or at least that he would. Killian would not put it past the Crocodile to sabotage his old enemy, regardless of any benefit he too might get out of the bargain.
Even with the gentle angle of the mountain here, there were still loose stones and wet grass from a recent rain, areas where David directed them to go slowly. Killian was competent on a horse, but not spectacular. He had rarely ridden before his departure to Neverland, and now the hook made holding on or directing the beast more difficult, but he managed. Still, he was glad to allow David to take the lead and find the safest way down the mountain.
Not long after the sun rose, a shadow overhead began passing by a regular intervals, and a loud, unmelodious honk would accompany the swan as she flew by. A few times, she called them onto different paths and trails, each leading farther southeast. They rode through the morning, and the temperature rose steadily as the sun climbed. They maintained as steady a pace as they could, but even Killian could tell that the horses were tiring and needed to eat and rest or they would drop.
David directed them to a shallow stream, and dismounted. "As much as I hate to say it, we have to stop for a while. Here is as good a place as any."
"Agreed," Killian said as he dismounted. Without any prompting, his horse made its way to the water and began to drink. He used the opportunity to stretch, causing his vertebra to pop. His back and his rump were sore from unaccustomed hours in the saddle, and he pulled his flask from his belt, hoping a swig would help alleviate the pressure. He had to be careful to ration it though. The sad little slosh that sounded from inside let him know that he was running depressingly low. "I hope your daughter understands."
"If it were me, I wouldn't," David admitted. "But we'll get nowhere fast if our horses die from exhaustion. We'll have to take at least an hour or so to let them rest. Who knows how long or hard the Black Knights pushed them before they reached us?"
Killian nodded, then asked, "How far ahead do you think they are?"
David shook his head. "I wish I knew. They had an hour head start, but they must have ridden all night to reach us before dawn. They're also weighed down by their armor, and hopefully Henry is making his captivity difficult for his guards. They won't hurt him, or Regina will flay them, so that limits their options. Hopefully he can slow them down some more."
David sighed, every one of his years laying heavily on his face as he eased himself to sit on a patch of thick moss, his hand to his back to ease the strain. After a moment, he reached up to rub at the knot the Black Knight had left on his skull. "But even if we do catch up with them, we're out-numbered until Ruby's pack catches up. And even then, they're armed with silver. We need some kind of plan."
"I suggest an ambush," Killian said, coming to join David at the side of the stream. "We need to find a way to lure some of the Knights away from the main party, and pick them off in the woods."
"Nightfall might be our best option."
"Aye, but only if they stop for the night," Killian pointed out. "They have to know that someone would come after them, so they may press on without stopping. I'd bet good money they're headed for the coast, and there they can catch a ship south to Saint-George. That's where I found Henry, and I doubt he could have made it far on foot, alone."
"Which means that Regina was probably living at the Castle Saint-George when Henry ran away." David pressed his lips together and shut his eyes tightly, grimacing in pain and disgust. "She was living in the home I shared with Snow. She stood in the halls where I taught my children to walk. Gods, the idea of that woman in our bedroom…"
Killian hesitated a moment, but then hesitantly reached up and laid his hand on David's shoulder, giving a little squeeze of understanding. He remembered what it had felt like to have the Dark One on his ship. It repulsed him to imagine the Crocodile rummaging through his cabin, pawing at the brightly colored blankets Milah had bought, the embroidered pillows, the sketches she had drawn that he still kept on his desk. Poor David, he thought. The Queen had already taken his family from him; that she lived in his home was caustic salt in an open wound.
David pulled in a deep breath, ground his teeth, but finally nodded to him. Killian patted the shepherd's shoulder before letting his hand drop. For a moment, they both stayed quiet, watching the horses browse in the undergrowth along the banks. Finally, Killian cleared his throat and told David he would go and see if the Knights had packed any food in their travel bags they could eat, allowing both men a moment to themselves.
He did, in fact, find some rations in the saddlebags. He brought the food and the canteens back, and they shared a quick, quiet meal, even sparing a few fresh apples for the horses. Without Henry to keep them engaged, each slid back into his own thoughts. His own exhaustion finally catching up with him. His mind drifted, and it finally occurred to him to think about what he was doing. He would like to say he had been roped into it, but that was not the case. He had not hesitated, not even for a second, to rush off after Henry when he was taken. He had not asked what his reward would be or why he should bother; he had simply acted. The idea of Emma being separated from her son again had ignited his blood and galvanized him to action. For Emma and for Henry himself, he had offered his services without a second thought—come to that, almost without a first thought.
Now that he had a moment to breathe, he was irritated by his own actions. Killian picked up a stone from the creekside and rolled it between his fingertips as he went over his actions this morning. He may have agreed to help Henry, but only because it furthered his own ends. Even at the first, his decision to hide the lad from the Black Knights had been impulse, and he had intended to turn the boy loose as soon as possible. He had never intended to take responsibility for the lad. Now he was off and running after Henry without a thought.
But then, if he returned Henry to Emma, perhaps she would be more likely to agree to take up her role as Savior. That was it. That was his stake in the undertaking, he assured himself. Save the boy, and the woman would help him with his revenge. Simple.
He nodded once, and tossed the stone into the gurgling water.
Their quiet reverie was interrupted by the insistent honking of a swan flying above them. Both men looked up, and there Emma flew, calling down urgent prompts to get moving. At least, Killian imagined that was what she was saying. David apparently shared his assessment, and within moments they mounted their horses and were away again, this time at an easy canter to merge speed with endurance.
David, aided by Emma's signaling from above, tracked the Black Knights through the afternoon. They had travelled nearly all day, with only a few brief stops to let the horses drink and bolt down huge clumps of grass, when they finally found recent tracks deeply planted in moist ground and a mound of spoor.
"We'll catch up to them in another hour," David said, kneeling to inspect the horse droppings.
"Aye, but there's no sign of the pack, nor whatever friends Red had gone to collect," Killian said. "Two against, what? Half a dozen, at least?"
"Eight, it looks like," David observed, pointing to the crescent hoof prints in the mud.
"Four men each, then," Killian mused. "Not the worst odds I've ever faced, but without an advantage, it will still be a hell of a fight, and we're both tired."
"Your idea of an ambush makes the most sense," David acknowledged. "We just need to make sure they either thin out through the trees or bottleneck somewhere."
"Is there any way we can force them to stop for the night?" Killian asked. "Do you know if there's somewhere we can trap the Knights, or something we can use to hinder their progress?"
David's forehead creased in thought before he suddenly smiled. "When I met Snow White, she was living as a bandit in the forest, on the run from her step-mother. She had felled a tree across the King's Road, which forced the party I travelled with to stop. We can do the something similar if we can get ahead of the Black Knights, and create a diversion."
Killian tried to recall about where they were in relation to the ocean. It would be easier at night, with the stars overhead, but he thought they were not far from the main highway that ran along the coast. "Is there a path that connects with the Eastern Road anywhere near here?"
"I think so," David said. "We're close to what used to be known as the Frontlands a few centuries ago. The duke that ruled the area liked to have his roads planned, even paved when he could, to make it easier to move his troops."
"Then I suggest that we get ahead of the Knights and find somewhere to set a trap."
"Agreed," David said. "We'll flag Emma down once we find a pond or river big enough for her to land."
That decided, they spurred their horses into a gallop. With only a single stop the remainder of the afternoon to explain their plan to Emma and ask her to scout for any bridges, ravines, or thick brambles they could use to their advantage, the men pressed onward, always hoping to see the werewolves melt out of the forest to join them. It never happened, but they were able to outstrip the Knights and gain some distance.
By evening, they found what they were searching for. A narrow, fast-moving river had cut a deep cleft in the mountain. A simple stone bridge crossed it, but it was carpeted in moss almost the entire way across, and dripping with green and grey mold along the sides. Killian doubted it was structurally sound enough for a group of heavily armed and armored Knights atop equally fortified mounts to ride across, but together, he and David added an extra level of difficulty. After tying off the horses to allow them to graze, the two men pushed and chipped away at some of the stones connecting the bridge to the mountainside. Killian just hoped there were no trolls under this bridge. It looked like the type of environment they would like, and they would certainly give the Black Knights something else to worry about, but he did not fancy another meeting with the malicious creatures.
Killian took the horses further into the forest, away from the road, and David did his best to cover their footprints. They could not have any signs that the bridge was tampered with. The shepherd-king actually went so far as to rub rough stones and dirt over chipped edges of the bridge's supports to hide that they had used metal tools on them. It was a rush-job, and it was doubtful it would hold up to deep scrutiny, but it helped to obscure their meddling. With the sun setting, their sabotage was even harder to discern. He hoped it would be enough.
He and David moved into the trees to hunker down and await the Black Knights. The sun had already disappeared when the crack of a twig tightened Killian's nerves. He twisted around, hand on his sword, to face the direction of the sound. A flicker of white in the trees caught his attention, and he let out a breath. A moment later, the figure resolved into Princess Emma, still clothed in her white dress and blue cloak.
"Emma," David greeted her, holding out a hand to help her down next to them. "Did you have any trouble finding a place to change shape?"
"No. There's an abandoned village with a stagnant pond not far from here. The village has been empty for a while. I doubt there's anything edible in the houses, but we can rest there later… if… if we can get Henry back."
She took a deep breath, forehead tightening and mouth pursing. Killian could see dark circles under her eyes, and he realized she must be even more tired than he was. He hoped she had at least stopped to eat, but by the faint tremble in her hands, he doubted it, too focused on getting her boy back. This time when he reached out, Killian allowed his hand to touch her shoulder. Emma startled and twitched under his hand—touch was clearly another thing she had gone a long time without.
"We're going to rescue Henry," he assured her again. Then, attempting to tease her into better humor, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Your lack of faith in us is starting to damage my ego, Swan."
"I didn't think it was that fragile," she snarked back.
"I am a delicate flower, I assure you," he insisted, and was rewarded by a quirk of her lips that may have been the beginning of a smile. He smiled back and tossed in a wink for good measure.
David, however, looked less pleased. Quite the stink-eye Killian received. He answered back with a shrug and a smirk. He had never received fatherly intimidation before. Husbandly intimidation, on occasion, but the women he encountered around the docks generally did not have a protective parent hoovering over them. If David could not handle Killian applying some gentle teasing to his daughter, he wondered what the man would do if he actually tried flirting. It was almost enough to make him try.
"Pipe down, the both of you," David scolded. "We're trying for a surprise attack, remember?"
True, time for teasing father and daughter later. For now, he pulled his mind back to the task as Emma quickly sobered, and turned to her father to ask, "Do you have a spare weapon?"
David nodded, adding, "There's an extra shortsword and a dagger on the bay gelding."
She quietly walked over to the horses and pulled the weapons from the saddle of David's mount. After untying her cloak, she wrapped the belt of the short sword around her waist, tightened the buckle, and added the sheath for the dagger opposite the sword. The belt strained the fabric of her dress, pulling it down distractingly to flash just a hint of the creamy mounds beneath. He jerked his eyes away and cleared his throat.
"Can you actually use that thing?" he could not help but ask.
Emma and David gave him identical looks of disbelief, as if it was the stupidest question either of them had ever heard.
Killian shrugged. "No offense meant, lass, but wielding blades doesn't seem like the most lady-like thing for a princess to learn."
"My father is a shepherd turned dragon slayer turned prince," she recited, settling back in next to him. "My mother was a warrior queen who spent years living in the Enchanted Forest as a bandit. Of course they taught me how to use a sword. I can also shoot a bow, plan a battle, and know the basics of pickpocketing."
His brows lifted straight to his hairline. "I'm impressed. That's quite an education you received."
"Snow and I wanted our children to be well-rounded," David dead-panned.
She snorted, and finally they quieted down to await the Black Knights and their cargo. Emma wrapped the blue cloak back around her shoulders and pulled it closed in the front to keep the white of her smock from giving away their position in the darkness. They stayed as still and quiet as they could, but as time passed, Killian could feel their tension mounting. Had the Knights decided to make an early camp, after all? Had Killian made a mistake in suggesting that they would likely push on through the night? Had they taken a different route? Had they lost the entire afternoon attempting to out-flank them when they could have easily have overtaken the Black Knights and fought?
A muffled sound finally caught Killian's attention. It was almost as if someone was singing into a pillow. Softer came the slight jingle of horse tack and armor, accompanied by the faint plod of horseshoes on a dirt road.
Killian sighed through his nose. He had been right, thankfully. Now he settled down to watch as the group of riders came closer. The stifled singing grew louder, and after several minutes, the party was in sight. Henry was sitting in front of one of the Knights, his hands tied in front of him around the pommel of the saddle, and he was gagged, which muffled the sound of the lad's song. The gag did not stop Henry from vocalizing with gusto, however, and Killian thought he recognized the basic melody of Mysterious Fathoms Below. It was a sailor's chanty, and Henry could only have learned it from one of the crewmen on the Jolly Roger. He smiled at the thought that Henry was using something he had learned while in Killian's care to defy his captors in a small way.
When the Black Knights reached the bridge, one dismounted and went to inspect the crossing. He returned to his leader, the man who had Henry, and the two had what appeared to be an unpleasant conversation. The commanding officer swore violently, and dismounted, giving an order for the rest of the men to do the same. After much jangling and grunting, the Knights started making camp. The leader and two of the men went to inspect the bridge more closely under the light of a newly lit torch, and Henry was passed off to one of the subordinate men.
They were efficient, Killian could give them that. They made camp quickly, pulling out rations and digging a fire pit. One of the men went a small ways off with another shovel to dig the latrine. Meanwhile, the Knights inspecting the bridge had determined that they would wait until daylight to cross. Good.
One of the Knights ask Henry, "If I take this off, will you be quiet?"
Henry glared, but did not respond.
The Knight untied the gag and pulled it away. Henry took one big breath, but the man quickly had his hand in place over his mouth. "None of that. You've been singing since you woke up this morning. If you don't keep quiet, you'll not get anything to eat, just like you didn't get anything at midday. Your mother said you have to be home in one piece, but she didn't say a thing about being half-starved. Now, are you going to be a good boy, or do I have to gag you again?"
The lad balked, but after a moment, he nodded. The Knight slowly took his hand away, and Henry stayed quiet. "Good boy." He pulled out a water skein and handed it to Henry. "Take a drink. Food should be ready shortly."
"She's not my mother," Henry stated, voice hoarse.
"What was that?" the Knight asked.
"I said, Regina is not my mother. Just for clarification," Henry added. Then, with wrists still tied, he uncorked the skein and took a long drink.
The Knight must have heard this before, for he just shook his head and walked away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma straining forward as if she would like to run in there right now. He shook his head at the same time that David placed his hand on her arm, both holding her back gently. She sucked in a breath and nodded once, swallowing. They had to wait, at least a little while longer.
Moments crawled by into an hour, and Killian and his companions shifted and strained in the delay, but finally, the majority of the Black Knights bunked down, all still in full armor, which Killian could not imagine was actually comfortable. Wiping his eyes to try to chase away his own weariness after a long trek on foot, followed by a sleepless night and then a day of hard riding, Killian reviewed his options. Of the eight men, only three were on guard duty, placed at opposite ends of the camp to watch the road, the bridge, and Henry. None of them appeared any better rested than he was, luckily. Killian supposed they had also had a long trip and a sleepless night, which suited him fine. It made them more evenly matched, and Killian—in leather and linen—would be quicker than they, entrapped in steel.
David gestured for his attention, and motioned to one of the Knight posted as a guard by the road, in the direction that they undoubtedly thought that the rescue party would be coming from. He then directed Killian toward the guards near the cliff's edge. Finally, he turned to his daughter and mouthed, "Henry." He then pointed into the darkness and whispered, "Village." Emma nodded and made a few hand signals Killian did not recognize but clearly meant something to David who acknowledged the directions. He met Killian's eye, who indicated that he, too, was ready.
They split up, and Killian crept toward the man standing guard near the bridge. Not weighed down with heavy, creaking armor, he was able to step lightly, and made it within arm's reach of the man before he was noticed. The Knight was too busy looking for attack from potential bridge trolls to respond quickly when Killian approached.
The slide of a pebble under Killian's foot alerted the Knight, and he turned, unsheathing his sword. Killian used his hook to catch the hilt of the sword, stopping the man from releasing the blade fully, and then swung his fist at the Knight's throat before he could call a warning to his companions. While the Knight staggered back, his hands automatically going to his neck as he struggled to breathe through a damaged windpipe, Killian used his own sword to run him through.
Behind him, Emma cried out. He turned and found her on her back, using her legs to kick out at the Knight who had been guarding Henry. As the man went backward, Emma climbed to her feet, kicking the long hem of her dress out of her way. But now the other Knights had woken and joined in the fight.
Killian found himself besieged by two men at once. They came at him one at a time, foolishly. He parried a thrust to his chest from his left, then countered with a right flick, parry-riposte, cutting the cheek of the second man, and spun out of the reach. The first man stepped forward, intent on getting under Killian's guard. He blocked, and once again used his hook to deflect the second's swipe before he kicked the man away. He whiped the blade of the first man, loosening his grip, and allowing Killian a heartbeat to regroup.
He glanced at the others before quickly returning his attention to his opponents. Emma had managed to free Henry and pushed him toward the forest while she engaged another Knight. David had two of his own Knights to contend with, though he seemed like he was doing well enough.
Speaking of, the two Knights Killian contended with suddenly realized they might have a better chance if they worked together. They flanked him and resumed their attacks, this time coordinating so that they moved at the same time, not allowing Killian a chance to do more than defend. He was right, the armor did slow them down, but it also did its job and protected them. Killian was forced to be more conservative than they needed to be. They knew the plate and chainmail they wore would protect them even if they left themselves open. It was sloppy fighting, but damned it if wasn't effective, especially against an already weary opponent.
He felt the slide of a blade along his side, under his coat as he twisted his upper body to parry the second man's outside cut which may have decapitated him if it had landed. He had no time to determine if he was seriously hurt. The next instant, he was locked close with the second Knight, and the first prepared for a lunge.
He was going to die.
His adrenaline spiked, and he used it to force the second Knight off him, swiping out with his hook to catch the tip of the incoming blade enough to deflect it slightly. The loud scrape of metal against metal changed to steel against the hardened leather and lacquer of his brace as the sword slid down his arm. It was enough to buy him the time to retreat a few steps.
That was when Killian heard a guttural battle cry from the forest around them accompanied by the howls of werewolves. Never was there a more beautiful sound, even if the men—correction, dwarves—who burst out of the forest along with the familiar faces of Red's pack were anything but lovely. The short, stocky dwarves were armed with pick-axes and heavy, diamond-crushing hammers. One of them, the most grizzled example of dwarfdom that Killian had ever seen, used his inhuman strength to bring his pickax, point down, into the back of one of the Black Knights David faced, causing the Knight to stiffen and choke.
Meanwhile, the Knights that had so concerned Killian a moment ago were now on the defensive. Jeb and Tanner joined him, and now that they knew to be cautious of the silver-dipped weapons, the wolves set about to exact revenge for their fallen pack member. Killian allowed Tanner to take on the stab-happy Knight while he and Jeb made quick work of the other, finally tumbling him over the cliff.
When he turned back to the clearing, Killian saw that the rest of the Black Knights lay dead on the ground. David was rubbing his shoulder, and Emma bent forward, her hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. Red appeared from the edge of the forest with Henry cuddled into her side, under one arm. As soon as he saw his mother, he ran to her.
"I knew it! I knew you'd find me," he said, burying his face in Emma's sternum. "I sang every song I knew as loud as I could so that we would be easier to track, even after they gagged me."
After a surprised flinch, Emma's arms wrapped around her child, her hand coming up to cup the back of his head, fingers burrowing through his hair. Killian's gut clenched at the sight, glad now that he had been part of the reason Emma had reunited with her boy. He was glad to see the lad unharmed, happily returned to his mother's embrace, and Emma… He actually had to stop himself from going to join them, as David was. He reminded himself that he was not part of their family and had no reason to join in the reunion.
Instead, he checked that wound on his side to see how bad it was. He pulled back his coat and, after sheathing his sword, ran his hand over the slice the Black Knight had made. Luckily, it appeared to have been mostly stopped by his vest. Only a slight tear in his black shirt underneath attested to how close the Knight had gotten to spilling Killian's guts.
He was not the only one to have a close call, although from the sound of it, Tanner was in more danger from his pack leader than he had been from the Black Knights. Red had pulled her second-in-command off to the side, and from the tone of her voice, she gave him quite the dressing down. From the word or two Killian overheard, Red was not best pleased that the pack had not caught up to him and David in good time. He almost felt bad for the werewolf.
"And this is Captain Jones, also known as Hook," he heard David say.
Now the focus of attention, Killian stepped forward and nodded to the newcomers.
"Hook, these are old friends of ours," David continued. "Grumpy, Doc, Happy, Dopey, and Bashful."
"We were friends of Snow Whites from way back," Grumpy explained, his eyes fierce behind heavy brows. "When Red told us she found Princess Emma, we came as fast as we could." He turned to Emma then. "And whenever you're ready to face the Queen, we're with you. I've already lost three brothers because of that witch. I'm not going to lose any more."
Emma opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, David started giving directions to move everyone to the village that Emma had discovered. "We can make camp there for a few days and at least have rooves over our heads for a time. And hopefully there will be some supplies we can salvage from the settlement."
Saved from having to answer Grumpy's assumption, Emma ducked her head and led the way into the forest with Henry at her side. Killian hurried to catch up with them while David and the dwarves followed behind, and Red and her pack remained behind to deal with the bodies of the Black Knights.
He rested his hand on Henry's shoulder and smiled down at him. "Well, lad, you survived your second battle. You did well."
"Thanks!" Henry said, smiling back.
"Wait, second battle?" Emma asked.
"We were attacked by trolls on the way to find you," Henry reported, shrugging. "It was no big deal."
Emma's brows rose as she turned to look at Killian over the boy's head. Killian, amused by the lad's blasé attitude, raised a brow in return at his mother. She pulled in a deep breath and snuggled her son closer to her side. "Well, I'm just glad you had the sense to run into the forest. For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to pick up a sword and try to fight."
"I thought about it," Henry admitted. "But all of the weapons were too heavy for me."
She shut her eyes tightly and stifled a chuckle, and Killian covered his mouth with his fist to hold back his own laughter.
"Well, thank you for abstaining," Emma said.
Killian noticed that she flexed her left hand, holding it close to her stomach. Even in the dark, he could make out a dark line across her palm. He placed his hand on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. "Give me your hand."
"What?" she asked, frowning at him.
"You're hand—it's cut."
Emma glanced at her cut and dismissed it with a shake of her head. "It's fine."
"No, it's not" he insisted, snagging her wrist with his hook and lifted her hand into the moonlight. "Let me see."
He held her hand between them, and Henry raised on his toes to look down at it, too. The cut extended from the soft crescent of flesh between her thumb and forefinger to the thick pad of muscle on outside of her palm. He had seen wounds like that made when a swordsman tried to deflect or even grasp the blade of an attacker. It was a foolish move, or a desperate one. Luckily, the wound did not appear deep and wouldn't require stitching, but disinfecting it was a priority.
Emma shifted from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed—but whether it was by needing help or his scrutiny, he could not tell. Instead, she bristled at him. "So now you're going to be a gentleman? What happened to being used to the less polite aspects of life?"
He winked at her, hoping to distract Emma from what was about to come. "I'm always a gentleman," he assured her, pulling his flask from his belt. He popped the cork out with his thumb, allowing it to dangle by the strip of leather, and then tipped the last of his rum onto Emma's outstretched hand as Henry looked on in fascination.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, trying to jerk her hand away from what he knew full well was a sting almost worse than receiving the wound itself. "What the hell is that?"
"It's rum—bloody waste of it, too." Considering the cut again, he returned the flask to its place. He pulled out his black scarf, glad that he had washed it as well as he could a few days ago on his journey to find her. It should do for a bandage, at least until they reached the village Emma mentioned. Hopefully they would be able to find something better there.
"If you were trying to disarm your opponent, Swan, there were easier ways" he said, wrapping the scarf around her hand.
"Considering my other option at the time was to let him take my head off, I thought it was better to use my free hand to deflect his sword and kick him in his codpiece."
He chuckled, wishing he had seen that. "Point taken. Ooh, you're a tough lass. You'd make one hell of a pirate."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a half-smile on her face, as he'd hoped. Out of sheer impulse, he tucked one end of the scarf through a loop in the bandage and brought her hand up to his mouth. With only the one hand, there was no other way to do it, but he found he was completely incapable of breaking eye-contact with her as he bit the end of the fabric and tugged, her warm hand with its long, delicate-seeming fingers cupped in his own. Even in the dark he saw her pupils widen as her brows went up. His heartbeat stuttered and sped in his chest, and he might have done something foolish if Henry had not then piped up, wondering if Emma would have a scar.
Emma blinked several times, stepping away and pulling in a deep breath before she turned to her son and said, "I hope not."
The sound of crashing feet in the underbrush behind them pulled Killian's attention back to the fact that they had company close at hand. The dwarves were easily within earshot. It sobered him better than a ducking in ice water.
Emma cleared her throat and nodded to him. "Thank you. I mean it, really. Thank you."
She meant more than bandaging her hand. Her eyes were too solemn and full. He had to look away, concentrate on the ground in front of him as they walked on so that he did not trip and fall in the dark with her too-penetrating gaze on him. Of course he had helped. It had never been a question. He could hardly have done anything else, but it made his conscience itch to have it pointed out to him. He could almost hear a faint voice in his mind that sounded a great deal like Liam shouting from a long distance away. He couldn't make out the words, and Killian didn't want to try. Especially since he knew that he was only using Emma for his own gain. And that flare of attraction? Well, she was beautiful, and it had been weeks since the tavern wench he met at the docks.
"Think nothing of it, Swan."
Author's Note: Don't worry, that Knight who spoke with Henry wasn't Graham. He's back at the castle with Regina. He'll be making an appearance later.
Also, yes, two more of the Seven Dwarves have fallen in this fic. I just can't imagine that Sleepy and Sneezy would survive in a war zone for long. The third that Grumpy referenced was Stealthy, from season one. Although technically Stealthy died at the hands of King George's men, not Regina, I'm sure Grumpy would blame Regina.
