To my incredible and lovely readers,
I've seen some worried people since Jen announced she wasn't returning, wondering what will become of our fandom now that she isn't coming back. People are unsure what will happen with not only the show, with the CS happy ending, and what Hook's roll will be, but also with fics, fic writers, gif makers and artists.
Let me assure you, I will see this fic to the end. I already know how it's going to play out and, in fact, I have several future scenes already written. So, even if there is no one left to read it, I will post every single word. I hope you stick with me.
Hugs to all of you,
Rachel
"How would you like to see your wife?"
The air gets sucked out of the room the moment the words leave Merlin's mouth, leaving David to struggle for breath and an intense hum to sound in his ears. His heart pounds into his rib cage which, when combined with the humming, leaves him worried that he may actually pass out. He tries to speak, tries to form the word – yes – but he can't find his voice, the overwhelming emotion strangling him.
See Snow? Finally be with her again? Awaken her from the curse and feel her silken skin under his fingers? Gaze on her sweet smile and hear her beautiful voice calling him Charming in that teasing way?
He wants that more than anything – to hear her voice – because he's started to realize over the past few years that he's not even sure what it sounds like anymore. Pictures are easy. Pictures he can see with complete clarity… the first time they met, their wedding day, the day their daughter was born…
But the most vivid picture, the one he sees nearly every time he closes his eyes, is the excruciating painful glimpse he had of her as she'd been drug through the door of that ball room…
…
…
The ground is shaking and splitting, the chandelier overhead swaying, but he doesn't see it. He doesn't see anything but her kicking and lashing out against her captors as they drag her across the dais. He rushes toward her just as she lands an impressive heel on the shin of one of them and she almost breaks free. His heart vaults but then there's a cracking sound so powerful and deafening that his eyes are drawn away from her, turning to see the balcony crack right in two. He squints his eyes against the sudden barrage of dust and debris, but amazingly enough, none of it comes in his direction, instead only taking out several black knights nearby by burying them in stone and rubble.
He doesn't take time to marvel over his luck before he rushes forward again, scaling a large pile of rock that landed directly in front of him. Snow is still in the same place she had been, her eyes transfixed on what's happening above and he breathes easier for an instant. The knights holding her seem as stunned as everyone else and he takes advantage, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he maneuvers the now rock-filled terrain, jumping over one hurtle after the next.
Another glance to Snow catches her look of relief at what's happening on the balcony and he casts a quick look over his shoulder to see the cloud of dust clearing. He takes one heartbeat to thank the gods that both Emma and Killian have survived the crash before he's charging toward Snow again. He's just cleared another obstacle when he hears her voice.
"You have to run, Charming!"
He looks up to see that her captors are coming back to their senses, pulling her once again toward the door in the corner of the room.
"No! I'm not leaving you!" he shouts, making the next leap.
"GO!" she screams, twisting and kicking with all her strength.
He shakes his head furiously, panic crawling up his chest as he takes the first step on the dais. He stops there when a line of knights move in between him and Snow, too many to fight alone and almost inadvertently, he drops his eyes to the chest between their thrones.
"Don't even think about it!" his wife bellows, "One of us has to be free!"
It was supposed to be you, he thinks, still eyeing the chest. He takes one step, already raising his hand to unlatch the lid when someone knocks hard into him, toppling him to the ground.
"You can't!" Graham yells, "I know you wanted it this way, but you can't! She's right: One of you has to stay free!"
It's like the world pauses then and he twists his head to look at his beautiful wife. She's still fighting but they almost have her to the door. There's noise all around them, the fight still ensuing but all he sees is her, the crown on her head slightly askew and her flawlessly pale skin smudged with dirt and dust.
His eyes mist and he knows this is it: this is the last moment he'll see her for who knows how long. The guards aren't trying to kill her. They obviously have orders to take her alive. Whereas him, well, that line of knights is already moving forward with their swords raised and at the ready. There's an instant when they block his view of her and he struggles wildly against Graham until he has her in his sights once again. Their eyes lock, the jade depths of hers begging him to get out, begging him to survive and his throat closes.
"I will find you, Snow," he vows, because now everything has clicked into place, no matter how badly he wanted this to play out differently. "I will always find you."
His last glimpse of her shows her face morphing to relief, her voice soft but strong. "I love you, Charming."
She's gone before he can reply, disappearing through the door, and the shout that releases from his throat feels like it tears right through his vocal chords. He wrestles out of Graham's grip and vaults to his feet, utter madness filling him as he plunges his sword into one knight after the next. They fall and fall but there are more and more and it's not long before Graham tugs him away, fighting to an open corridor and pushing him down the hall. They run for their lives, Graham placing a well-aimed jab of his sword to the loose stone in the wall. The painting in front of them swings open and he jumps through the narrow gap, turning to make sure Graham made it as well. But Graham didn't even attempt the jump. Instead, he's closing the painting.
David's arm shoots out to stop it but Graham doesn't relent.
"I'll lead them away," he says. "And if there's any chance at all, I'll try to get her out. Be safe, my King."
The painting shuts and David is plunged into darkness, falling to his knees with his hand still pressed against the canvas. He stays there for a good long while, lungs heaving and tears staining his cheeks as he listens to the chaos on the other side, frantic orders being yelled to split up and check all the rooms. He considers staying. He wants to stay and fight, but the final look from Snow flashes through his mind.
He won't let her down.
He'll find a way to get back to her.
No matter how long it takes.
…
…
The memory blinks out and Merlin comes back into focus, his too-knowing eyes set dead on him like he's just seen the same thing.
"Is this a trick?" he asks, his voice harder than he intended.
"No trick. I'll take you to her – but," he raises a finger, "I must warn you: You'll not be able to wake her."
"WHAT?!" he roars.
Merlin seems completely unimpressed with his rage, continuing calmly, "She's guarded by a protection spell and I'm afraid no one but the Evil Queen herself can breach it."
"A spell the most powerful wizard ever can't break?" Lance asks with incredulity. "It sure sounds like a trick to me."
"It's not a trick," Merlin insists, eyeing each of them, "Regina used blood magic to cast the spell and there's no way around it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried!"
"So, what's the point in taking him, then?" Lance asks.
But it doesn't matter to David. Seeing Snow again, even if he can't touch her, is worth the risk but he doesn't have time to voice that opinion before Merlin's eyebrows raise.
"Because, we need to cast a protection spell of our own."
David's stomach drops to the floor. "Why?" he demands, "Is she in danger?"
"Not at this very moment, but she soon will be. Regina was satisfied with keeping her under the curse but once she realizes Emma has her magic, it will only be a matter of time."
David goes completely still. "What makes you think Emma has her magic?" he asks.
Merlin chuckles. "Foresight, remember?"
David mulls that over, still not completely convinced the wizard is trustworthy.
"Look, I can do it myself if you prefer. Just give me a drop of your blood and I'll cast the spell alone. I just thought you'd like to see her."
"I do," David replies instantly. "I'll go with you."
"Are you sure, Majesty?" Lancelot asks, stepping forward.
"Yes," he insists, looking over to his friend. "It's worth the risk just to be able to see her."
Lance's eyes soften the tiniest bit and Charming gets the feeling the knight is thinking of something – or someone – else for an instant.
"You're right. Love is worth the risk."
David turns back to Merlin. "When do we leave?"
"Right now," Merlin replies, holding out his hand.
K&EK&EK&E
Regina has always hated the smell of the sea - its rank, salty, fishy scent. But she meanders the dock anyway, the long piers filled with ships abustle with activity as cargo is loaded and unloaded. Her eyes search every mast, every flag, a little annoyed when she realizes how many kingdoms seem to use this harbor as a means of trade. And even more annoyed that none of the flags are the one she's looking for. There are pirate ships, yes, many of them, but her prey hasn't shown his colors yet.
There are several men who send her looks of interest and she realizes perhaps it would have been wiser to pick a more homely woman to clone. One of them even has the courage to head her way but she crooks a finger and a rope falls into his path, making him trip and flush with embarrassment. She would much rather have made that large and very heavy looking crate fall, but an accident of that magnitude would draw attention. People's morbid curiosity is a predictable human response and she doesn't want half the city here to investigate.
Self-control is a huge asset when you're trying to blend in.
The day grows late and she's sweaty and tired, more impatient than ever when, suddenly, a familiar looking head of dark hair disembarks from a ship close by. Smiling slyly to herself, she follows him away from the docks, a plan forming in her head.
K&EK&EK&E
The holster is digging into Emma's chest but the weight of the dagger is oddly comforting. Walking to the mirror, she takes a deep breath and lets it out, watching carefully to make sure the blade is completely concealed. Behind her, she can hear Killian's movements, getting ready himself. They work in silence, apprehension weighing down the air, their impending separation looming more heavily on both their minds than she had anticipated.
They'll only be apart for a short time. She'll go straight to the square and he'll meet her there as soon as he's finished ordering supplies for the Jolly Roger. An hour at most. It's not so very long. He'll meet her at the square and everything will be fine.
Everything will be fine.
But a lot can happen in an hour. And they don't have any clue what they're walking into. Outside of it being an unpredictable city at best, it's been months since Killian was last there and it could be overrun with black knights by now. Jefferson swears that's nearly impossible. He is 'The Hatter,' after all; his spy network is extensive and news of black knights in Portsmouth would not escape his attention. But even without black knights (probably) there's still so many things that could go wrong…
And Killian knows it, too. That's why neither of them are speaking. That's why the heavy air feels ripe with dread. That's why their movements are measured and precise. They're both on the edge of their nerves, both filled with apprehension. And both afraid that one word would send the other into a panic.
She practices drawing the dagger from its sheath a few times to distract herself. Just as Patricia promised, it makes no sound at all but the quick movement catches Killian's attention and their eyes meet in the mirror. He's wearing a grim expression that matches the tight knot in her stomach and his hand is arrested on the buttons of his black shirt. Their eyes hold in the reflection as she slides the dagger back home but then he dips his chin and goes back to buttoning (very few) of the buttons on the shirt.
Before he can reach for it himself, Emma picks up his vest and holds it out for him to slip on. There are still no words but the finger he uses to reverently trace her chin while she fastens the buckles speaks volumes. Her heart is beating so hard that she can hear it in her head and her hands are damp and shaky. She fumbles one of the clasps and his hand covers hers, squeezing it while she draws a steadying breath. Once the buckles are fastened, she rests her hands on his chest and realizes his heart is pounding, too.
With slow movements, he reaches for his belt and scabbard, applying it to his waist. While he attends to that, she walks over and takes his leather coat from the peg she'd hung it on days ago. He slides his arms in and she pulls the collar up to his neck, rounding to the front of him to position the lapel and run her hands over the shoulders of the leather.
Stepping back, she studies the finished product from head to toe while he does the same to her. He's Captain Hook again, but… not. He's Killian Jones, dressed up for a charade that he's played many times. And she's costumed as a tavern wench with daggers in both her corset and her boot.
They're ready.
They both move in the same instant, like opposing wave crashing together, the stormy kiss that follows filled with desperation – with promises to be careful – with fear and worry and too many other emotions to name. She has no idea how long it lasts but their lips never part; the release of anxiety near brutal in its force. But somewhere in the middle, it changes, lips softening and slowing, fingers gliding tenderly over chins and necks. The gentleness doesn't last, though, and it changes back, a whirlwind of passion that has them moaning into each other's mouths. Her fingers begin to ache from the hold she has on his collar, using it to guide his head first one way and then the next. His head is at a severe tilt to delve his tongue deep when the knock sounds at the door. They ignore it at first, too desperate for more time to break apart just yet, but when the insistent bang sounds, they regretfully separate.
"Come in," Killian calls, maintaining a vice grip on her waist when he turns to the door.
Jeff, Patricia, Ruby and Dopey all walk in, Jeff and Patricia dressed as pirate and tavern wench as well, and they gather around the table, going over the details of the plan one last time.
Once they've recapped the everything, Patricia looks to Ruby with nervous eyes. "Remember, Ruby, Grace needs to stay below until we return. She won't be happy about it but – "
"Don't worry," Ruby interrupts, taking both Patricia's hands in hers, "She and I are going to be in the galley. I've promised to let her help me make some cookies. My grandmother taught me how to shape them like animals and we're going to put together a full menagerie by the time you return."
"Thank you," Patricia says, squeezing Ruby's hands, the word filled with more than simple appreciation.
"We'll keep her safe," Ruby promises and Dopey nods vigorously in agreement.
"Dopey, you'll be on deck," Killian puts in, "Keep an eye open for anything suspicious. And I mean anything. If, at any time you feel like there's something amiss, send Ruby immediately and set sail. Grace has been taught all of the commands for the Jolly and the old girl will answer to them."
Dopey nods again, placing his fist against his heart.
The Jolly's bell rings and Killian looks up. "Okay, that's our cue. I need to steer us into the harbor. Jeff, Dopey, let's get up there."
He starts to turn but Emma catches his hand, pulling him back and into a fierce hug.
"I'll come back down once we've docked," he breathes into her neck and she nods, too choked up to reply.
Emma paces the floor while she waits. She knows she needs to stay out of sight until Jeff and Killian have left and Dopey has given the signal, but she wishes she could be on deck with him, treasuring these last few minutes.
The Jolly groans to a stop and Killian immediately appears, descending the ladder with haste saying, "There aren't a lot of people about but they're watching. Jeff and I should move fast before more show up."
His feet hit the floor and she's in his arms before she can reply, his mouth solid and ravenous on hers. But now, there are too many words to say and with each break of lips they're whispered urgently to the other.
"Be careful." "I'll see you soon." "Stay with Patricia." "Don't worry." "It will be fine." "It's only a short while."
Each utterance is punctuated with a deeper kiss, a tighter grip, until the words dissolve between their joined mouths and they're clinging to each other with all their strength.
Jeff's boot lands hard near the opening of the hatch and their lips break long enough for Killian to glance toward the sound. Swallowing hard, she tells herself to release him, to let go of his collar so he can leave with Jeff. But she can't let go. She can't let him leave without telling him… He needs to know… Just in case… When he looks back to her, his eyes are filled with the same conflict she feels, studying her with such intensity that her heart skips a beat.
"Killian…"
But he covers her lips with his thumb, his breathing heavy. He wants to say it first. She can feel it in the way his fingers reverently move from her chin to glide across her cheek. She can see it in the way he shuffles restlessly in front of her.
He wants to say it.
"Emma, I…"
He wants to… but he's still scared.
Say it.
His fingers contract in her hair.
I love you.
He shakes his head, blue eyes landing on hers with apology and regret shining in them.
"Please be safe, love. Please just… Be safe."
He's gone before she can swallow the lump in her throat – before she can return the sentiment and her eyes fill with tears. Be safe, she prays. I love you.
The silence is deafening as she glances around the room. The Jolly feels empty in his absence.
As does her heart.
K&EK&EK&E
David's stomach lurches when his feet land on solid ground again, the sensation of weightlessness not a pleasant one in the least, but he pushes past it, eagerly scanning the room for his wife.
"She's not here," Merlin says, immediately laying his hand over the one David was just about to move to his sword.
"We need some supplies first," he explains, "I can't cast the spell with your blood alone."
David's posture relaxes. "So where are we then?" he asks.
"Regina's storeroom. Just give me a few minutes to gather what we'll need."
David nods and eases back, scanning the room. The light isn't very good but it's adequate enough and there's a strange and musty smell in the air. The walls are lined with cabinets, all of them with different sized drawers and Merlin busies himself with opening one after the next until he finds whatever it is he's looking for. With the wave of a hand, a fire ignites in the hearth, illuminating a black iron kettle hanging over the flames. He works with impressive efficiency, tossing one thing after another into the pot.
After a time, David moves to the center of the room where a table is set up and he runs his finger over the rim of a bowl, glancing over to Merlin.
"Go ahead and ask," the wizard says.
David frowns. It's annoying, this whole foresight thing. "Do I even need to?"
"You want to know why I didn't help Arthur along a bit more, yes?"
"Yes," David confirms.
"Well, here's the thing," the wizard says, still focused on his task, "I'm not a prophet. I know that's a common misconception, but I'm not the person who prophesied Arthur's quest. I was only the one to deliver it. As to why I didn't help more?"
He pauses there, and David gets the feeling he doesn't really want to answer that question. Still, he straightens and turns, looking David directly in the eye. "I couldn't."
"What do you mean you couldn't? Even if you're not the prophet, you can see the future. You could have given him more to go on."
"Actually, no…" and now the reluctance is obvious, but his eyes stay on David, "because I can't see that part."
"What does that mean?" he asks.
"It means that none of my visions include Excalibur."
David feels his eyes widen. "What?! Why?"
Merlin goes back to his work, tossing something that looks like a dead insect into the kettle. "I'm not positive, but I think it's Excalibur itself that blocks my vision. It's the most powerful magical object in the world and, if myth is to be believed… it's greedy. That's why it has the power to strip magical beings of their abilities. It's wants all the power to itself."
David takes a moment to let that sink in. "So you didn't know where the dagger was, or even how to reunite the blades," he surmises slowly.
Merlin nods, "And I don't know how or when Excalibur will be used. I can't see anything relating to it."
David exhales a long breath. "Which means you can't tell me if Emma will be successful in using it against Regina."
Merlin looks almost apologetic. "Exactly."
David feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, his head spinning. He'd thought that having Merlin on their side nearly sealed victory but now…
"What have you seen? Have you seen Snow awaken? Have you seen the kingdom under her and my rule once again?"
Merlin is shaking his head and David's pulse jumps to an alarming rate.
"So Regina will win?" he asks, his voice so tight it's almost imperceptible.
"I don't know," the wizard replies sadly. "The last vision I have is you, reuniting with your daughter. After that, everything goes black."
Merlin turns away to check the potion but David senses there's something else, something that's weighing him down. Then, with sudden and complete clarity, it comes to him.
"You can't see it because you die?" he asks.
Merlin's head raises but he doesn't turn around. "I don't know," he says again, a small sigh accompanying it. He fiddles with the pot for another moment and then he turns, holding a vial in his hand.
"It's ready," he says, dismissing any further conversation regarding his possible demise. Crossing the room, he holds out a needle and the vial. "You just need to add one drop of your blood and then we'll be able to trump Regina's magic."
David takes the needle and adds the required drop.
"Now, let's go see your wife," Merlin says, holding his hand out.
The weightless feeling is back but this time he's more prepared and he lands with a solid 'thunk,' his eyes immediately searching… and finding Snow, laid out on an alter only feet from where they landed.
He walks forward in slow motion, his heart an odd mixture of hammering beats and pure peace. She's still stunning. She's still the fairest thing he's ever seen and his ears buzz as he comes to a stop right next to her. Her hands are folded serenely over her stomach, her gown still the same one he last saw her in. Mesmerized, he reaches out to stroke her cheek but, before his fingers make contact, excruciating pain shoots up his arm and a blast of energy sends him flying through the air. He has one split second to brace for the impact of the hard, stone floor but instead he lands on a thick, soft mattress.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," Merlin tells him with a mixture of sympathy and mirth, his eyebrow cocked at an amused angle, and David begrudgingly admits to himself that foresight isn't as annoying when it's saving your backside from a severe bruising.
"Thank you," he says, getting back to his feet.
The wizard nods in acknowledgment and steps back from the alter, giving David enough room to approach his wife again. This time he stops a few inches from her, his eyes drinking in every detail of her face. Slowly, he feels a grin spread across his features, just staring at the smooth skin, just watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She's gotten some gray at her temple, just like him but, somehow, it only enhances her beauty, the realization of which makes his heart feel lighter.
"Can she hear us?" he asks Merlin without looking away.
"I'm afraid she can't, but there's a chance we could… send her a message, as it were."
"How?" David asks, his eyes darting to the wizard.
Merlin looks a little hesitant to explain, his eyes lowering to the ground. "A sleeping curse… It's not a pleasant place to be, but we could… invade that for a bit."
"So I could talk to her?"
"Not in the conventional sense, but we could send her a memory. It would have to be one that's strong enough to push past the spell, but I feel certain we could accomplish it, if you want to try."
"Yes," David immediately responds. "What do I need to do?"
"Take my hand," Merlin replies, stepping up to stand next to him.
Merlin extends his other hand over Snow's forehead as David reaches out but just before their fingers touch, he stops.
"Wait, will you be seeing the same thing?" he asks.
Merlin grins mischievously. "Yes, so if you could keep it PG, I'd appreciate it."
"PG?" he asks in confusion.
Merlin's grin grows. "Just… I'd rather not see your daughter's conception, if you know what I mean."
"Riiiight," David replies.
Drawing a deep breath, David lands his palm against Merlin's and closes his eyes, his vision immediately engulfed by the one memory that he prays will give her the most hope…
"And you can't get married without this," she says, pulling the pouch from under her arm and handing it to him.
It takes more effort than it should to look away from those enchanting green eyes so that he can open the pouch and inspect the contents.
He finds his mother's ring and holds it up. "I know, not your style, right?" he asks.
"Well, there's only one way to find out…" she replies, her fingers closing around it and sliding it onto her finger before he can blink.
She's holding her hand out, her eyes focused on the gem when he feels the tug in his stomach, the air around them suddenly twinkling with… something. She darts her eyes between his and the ring for a moment and he can't stop staring at how red her lips are, how immaculate her porcelain skin looks when it blushes the slightest bit.
"No, not me at all," she says in an unconvincing tone, removing the ring and handing it back to him.
The memory goes blurry and something pulls at his lungs. Gripping Merlin's hand tighter, he skips ahead and rushes through the part he wants to remind her of most of all.
"If you ever need anything – "
"You'll find me?"
"Always."
There's a yank at his naval and he gasps for breath, coming back to the present in a dizzy fog that has spots appearing in his vision. Another tug and he's on the floor, the stone hard on his shoulder. Shaking his head, he tries to focus but those spots, they're not clearing, they're flashing brighter and brighter and…
Reality snaps back, a crackling sound assailing his ears as he realizes those weren't spots at all but the protective spell over Snow violently pulsing in and out over and over again until it dissipates with a final burst of light. Stunned, he stares at the altar, Merlin's hand holding a death grip on his arm from where he'd pulled him out of harm's way.
"That's impossible," Merlin whispers, his voice louder than it should sound due to the sudden stillness.
"What's impossible?" David asks.
"The spell is down."
"We broke it?" David asks in joyous disbelief, already gaining his feet.
Before Merlin has time to answer, a golden drawer along the back wall pops open, and David freezes, watching as a purple fog appears and surrounds it. A whooshing sound fills the air, the smoke condensing in until it's so thick it appears black, then with a loud crack, it vanishes.
"She needed a heart," the wizard breathes.
The words jolt David out of his stupor and he launches toward Snow.
"NO, David, DON'T!"
But he doesn't heed the warning, not when he's got this chance. His hand finds her cheek, still as smooth as ever, and time seems to suspend around them. He bends to kiss her, his eyes focused on the full, red lips… Finally… Finally, her eyes will open, she'll say his name, she'll smile at him for the first time in ages…
K&EK&EK&E
Emma has to admire the efficiency with which Patricia operates. Her mind is solely on the mission and she doesn't waver once in her course as they trudge through the city. She wonders vaguely how she came to know the streets so well (perhaps she lived here at one time?) but she doesn't ask because the longer she's away from Killian, the more nervous she becomes and she doesn't want to delay the journey in any way.
As they wind their way through the streets, the rumbling of raised voices fills the air along with the aroma of spices and the smell of meat being cooked. Two more turns and they're in the marketplace and Emma nearly gasps at the grandeur of it. It's huge and alive with activity, children running through the tightly knitted booths with laughter ringing out in their wake, vendors calling out to advertise their wares, musicians playing their various instruments on corners with hats left out to collect tips from the consumers.
It's the exact opposite of what Emma had anticipated. She'd expected dirty streets and questionable people, something on the surface that would hint at the clandestine operations and outright violence the city is known for. But the energy surrounding her is almost celebratory, and she finds herself smiling in wonder. She's just about to step past Patricia to get a better look when the woman shoots an arm out to stop her.
"A word of warning, Highness," she whispers, "People here may look innocent, but not all are. Keep your purse close. There are pickpocketers everywhere. And don't flash your gold around. That will make you a target faster than you can say 'the Evil Queen is dead.'"
Emma nods, twining her fingers through her purse strings.
"Stay with me. This place can turn in an instant. It's not unheard of for fights to break out in the streets but so long as we're together, everything will be fine."
Emma nods and Patricia enters the marketplace. They browse several booths in an effort to blend in but they continue to steadily make their way to the center. The vendors, themselves, are friendly and offer fair prices, selling anything from ladies' ribbons to fresh grown vegetables to antique weapons. The aroma is intoxicating as well, foreign spices hanging in the air along with the smell of cooked meats that are being sold on wooden skewers.
As they round the last corner, something prickles under Emma's skin, an uneasy feeling that has her searching in every direction. Whatever it is, it's got the hairs on the back of her head standing on end, but she's distracted before she has time to consider it further by a resounding cheer that sounds for a juggler who is currently performing on a raised platform in the middle of the square.
Her eyes immediately start looking for Killian. The sun is starting to set which makes her search of the crowd take longer than it should and she's just about to start panicking when a hush descends, a gap appearing on the other side of the crowd.
He saunters in with his hook resting on the hilt of his sword and Jefferson standing to his right, both of them exuding danger and excitement. A rush of astounded whispers ensues, the most prevalent of which is: 'He's alive,' and Emma finds herself smiling when Killian quirks a brow at the crowd as if to respond, 'Of course I'm alive. Did you think for a second that the Evil Queen would best me?'
The appearance of Captain Hook is so disruptive that even the juggler loses his concentration and the batons he'd been flinging through the air clatter to the ground around him, bouncing off in different directions. One of the batons rolls to a stop right in front of Killian and the astounded whispers quiet as the crowd watches with baited breath when Captain Hook bends to retrieve it.
Examining it with vague interest, he expertly twirls it through his fingers and Emma can feel a new tension settle among the observers, none of them quite sure how he will react. In the end, though, he simply spins the baton off the tip of his thumb, tossing it up and catching it in one smooth motion before lobbing it back to its owner. The juggler looks like he's just earned a reprieve from the gallows and the audience lets out an audible sigh of relief on his behalf. After gathering his other batons, the man looks to Killian again and Killian waves a hand at him in an indication that he should continue his performance.
As soon as the man starts juggling again, Killian's eyes seek out hers. Emma has to hide the smile that threatens when Killian finds her, his shoulders sagging in noticeable relief. Raising a brow, he tips his head toward the juggler with amusement and the smile she'd been trying to hold back spreads across her face. She can certainly see why Jeff and Patricia didn't seem to mind this splitting up plan. There's something exciting about being incognito, pretending to be someone else and fooling everyone around you.
A cheer goes up when the juggler finishes his routine and the crowd begins to disburse. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Patricia nod to Jeff and they start moving away from the square, turning down a nearly deserted street of shops that have all closed up for the night. She can hear Jeff's and Killian's footsteps behind them as they walk but she doesn't look back. Patricia keeps up a casual conversation, making it appear that Emma (Gwen) is new to the city and she is showing her around.
After another turn, Patricia slows and indicates with her head toward one of the buildings. When Emma looks, she sees a sign hanging above the door that reads, simply, 'Mable's.'
"She's one of the best seamstresses in the city," Patricia says. "I wonder if she'd be available to mend this rip in my dress."
"It looks like the shop is closed for the night," Emma replies, in an effort to play along.
Patricia rolls her eyes, pulling Emma along behind her. "Nonsense, she's an old friend of mine. I bet if we stop for a visit, she'd do it without my even asking."
Mable is a kindly looking older woman with a round belly and a welcoming smile. She's obviously surprised to see Patricia but she recovers quickly and invites them in for tea. As soon as the door shuts, Mable's arms wrap around Patricia in a crushing hug. "I've been so worried. Are Jeff and Hook with you?"
"Yes, they're coming in the back."
The three of them hurry to the back and when Killian walks in, Emma is already moving to embrace him but Mable beats her to it, nearly knocking down both men with how forcefully she hugs them.
"How dare you two lads worry me like this! I've been terrified since I heard that story of black knights attacking the Jolly."
"We didn't mean to, I assure you," Jeff sooths, patting Mable on the back.
It's another minute before she releases them but she keeps a hand in each of theirs, stepping back to appraise them. Emma notices the way her chest expands, looking at both of them like a proud mother who hasn't seen her children in too long.
"Well, the two of you together again," she says wistfully, cupping both of their cheeks. "I'm so happy to see you. And look at you, Jeff, all dressed up like a pirate. I'd forgotten how handsome you were with that kohl."
Jeff rocks back on his heels with a smug smile, winking at his wife and Killian clears his throat loudly.
Mable laughs, "And you, Hook, how could anyone forget those eyes of yours? Two of the most stunningly handsome men to sail the seas."
Patricia scoffs, "Please Mable, their egos don't need any more puffing up – "
But Mable shushes her, "I can puff them up if I want to. They saved my life – and yours – and everyone else's back home. I think that warrants a little ego puffing. But – while I'm sure you two would enjoy another hour of me fawning over you, I don't think that's the point of your visit."
"No, it's not," Jeff says.
Mable motions to the stairs. "Well, you'd best come in then. I'll make some tea and we'll talk."
Jeff, Patricia and Mable start up the steps and Emma goes to follow but Killian's hook catches her wrist and hauls her into his chest.
It's a long, relief-filled kiss that ends with an affectionate rubbing of his nose against hers while his hand weaves itself into her hair. They breathe the same air for several heartbeats before he steps back and waves his hook toward the stairwell.
"After you, love," he says with a twinkle in his eye and Emma precedes him up the steps.
Mable eyes them suspiciously over the tea service she's carrying as they walk into the room, her eyes darting to their interlaced fingers. After setting the tea on the table, she straightens and heads directly toward Emma.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," she says, blocking Emma's path.
Jeff sniggers and Patricia lifts a hand to cover her grin.
"This is Gwen," Killian lies easily, "We met in Arendelle a few weeks ago."
Mable's eyes narrow, looking Emma up and down and crossing her arms. "In Arendelle, you say?" she asks thoughtfully, tapping her foot on the floor, "Another site of recent black knight activity."
Emma is shocked by the implication the old woman adds to her tone, sudden and clear distrust in her eyes.
"What was your story?" she asks, stepping into Emma's personal space, "It must have been a good one to weave your way onto Hook's ship."
"She's not a spy, Mable," Killian says, pulling Emma back so that he can step between the two of them.
"How do you know?" Mable asks. "Don't you find the timing a bit suspicious?"
"Believe me, she's no spy and her story is her own."
Killian's voice has turned hard and Mable stares him down, searching his eyes until she's satisfied with whatever she sees there. After a beat, she steps back with a nod, and Emma is surprised how quickly that stubborn look morphs into a full-fledged grin. "Well then, you should let her come in so I can get a look at her."
Killian steps away and Mable raises her hands to Emma's cheeks. The assessing look she gives her makes her want to squirm but she manages not to, holding her gaze steady while Mable makes her appraisal.
"You'd better treat him right, girl, or you'll have me to answer to," the woman says with meaning and Emma feels her cheeks flush when Killian chuckles next to her.
"Now," Mable says, indicating for everyone to sit, "I'm sure you're here looking for information but the most popular rumors going around are one's you would know the most about. What the hell happened? How did black knights get aboard the Jolly and why are the two of you here together? What's so important that you'd risk Hook's cover?"
"Regina has figured out our little plot, Mable," Jeff says grimly. "She had Grace kidnapped and forced me to allow her knights onto the Jolly."
Mable's eyes widen, already starting to rise. "Where is she? Is she okay? Do you need my help to find her? I'll kill – "
"She's fine. We got her back," Patricia sooths, laying a hand on Mable's shoulder and pushing the feisty old woman back into her chair. "She's aboard the Jolly. We just wanted to make sure it was safe before we brought her into town."
Mable looks overwhelmingly relieved but it doesn't last. "So, the Evil Queen knows, does she?" she comments thoughtfully, "That would explain a lot."
"Explain what?" Killian asks.
"Got a message from Will that she showed up personally to investigate Hook's escape," Mable replies gravely, "Ransacked Jeff's store, killed some poor woman at the tavern before Queen Katherine stepped in."
Killian stiffens beside her, everyone falling silent to gather their thoughts.
"So, she's coming after me herself," Killian murmurs softly.
"She's coming after all of us," Patricia points out.
"Well, she wouldn't have found anything at the store," Jeff says, "Will and the others would have cleaned it out as soon as they realized we were gone, so she won't have any leads on where to start looking. Everyone's cover should be safe."
There's another pause in conversation before Patricia speaks up. "What about here, Mable? Has anything out of the ordinary happened?"
"Nothing that I've heard about. No one has missed a check-in and the most recent batch of supplies was sent out to Misthaven yesterday. Joseph and Phoebe checked in two days ago – they own the tavern now, you know – and the most interesting things going around there are the number of theories surrounding Hook's escape and The Hatter's disappearance."
"My disappearance?" Jeff asks. "I didn't think that would be common knowledge."
"Well, apparently, it is and the two of you are causing quite a few debates. Most people are of the opinion that they are unrelated incidents but there are a few who believe they are somehow connected."
"Connected how?"
Mable shrugs, her eyes landing on Killian. "Some think that the Evil Queen attacking Captain Hook indicates that he's not all he seems to be," she says with meaning, "They figure if the Evil Queen is after him, there must be a reason. Some have even taken to the theory that he and The Hatter are partners."
She stops there but keeps her eyes on Killian and Emma gets the feeling she's walked into the middle of an old argument.
"Well, we're not going to confirm or deny any of that, if that's what you're thinking," Killian says.
Mable presses her lips together stubbornly but doesn't comment.
Patricia, though, shows no such restraint. "We could, you know?"
"But we won't," Killian replies with finality.
"Why not?" Jeff argues. "The point was to keep the connection from Regina and she knows now, so why – "
"And how would we do it?" Killian interrupts with sarcasm. "You want me to just make an announcement in the middle of the tavern? No one would believe it."
"I could do it," Jeff says.
"And why would they believe you?" Killian asks. "No one knows what The Hatter looks like. You think you can just waltz in there, say you're The Hatter and everyone will trust you?"
The three of them all deflate at that and Killian softens his tone. "Look, I know none of you like it, but Jeff's anonymity and my reputation is the backbone of this operation and we all know it. I don't need to be seen as a hero. What I need is the air of ruthlessness. That's what makes ships surrender as soon as they see the Jolly's sails. If you start painting me as some benevolent soul, they may not be so eager to raise their white flags."
Emma's heart thuds in her chest, only now realizing how difficult it must have been on him to keep up the pirate persona all these years. It's obviously something Jeff, Patricia and Mable don't want for him, but he's done it anyway. And he did it to save lives. Her heart surges with love and she links her fingers with his, drawing his gaze to hers and earning a squeeze of his hand.
There's a moment of silence before Jeff acquiesces. "Fine, we'll continue with the charade," he says with a sigh, dismissing the subject. "Is there anything else Mable?"
"Nothing," she replies, looking less than happy herself.
Jeff pushes to his feet. "Well, then, we'll head to the tavern just to make sure nothing new has happened and, if nothing is amiss, we'll be back tomorrow with Grace in tow."
Mable stands as well, giving Jeff a hug. "I'll get some rooms ready for you. You're welcome to stay here until you get settled."
"Thank you, Mable," Patricia says, hugging the old lady as well.
Emma is surprised when she's the next to receive a hug from the woman, her eyes warm and full of appreciation. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Gwen. I can't tell you how happy I am that Hook finally found a woman who can put up with him."
She smiles at Hook over Emma's shoulder and pulls him into the hug as well, and if Emma's not mistaken, her eyes mist when she steps back.
"Now, off with you youngsters. And bring that sweet child to see me tomorrow. I've got a dress I made from the last batch of silk you sent me that will be beautiful on her."
K&EK&EK&E
David's lips are less than a hairsbreadth away from Snow's, his heart full of joy and his soul content. He's about to have his wife back. The dream that has kept him sane over the past several years is about to be realized. She'll be by his side when they see their daughter again. They'll be together when the Evil Queen is defeated and they reclaim their kingdom…
But then –
Pain.
Pain like nothing he's ever felt blossoms on his side – a burning and all-consuming pain that penetrates every cell of his being before he's ripped away from heaven by a lightning fast yank on his arm.
He's on the floor and he can't breathe, Merlin's hand frantically swiping over the blood stain that runs from his shoulder all the way to his knee. "She only lowered the spell long enough to call the heart to her," the wizard tells him through the haze, "You were standing in its path when it reappeared."
His lungs are on fire, the memory of that pain lingering on the outskirts of his of consciousness. It felt like he was being cut in half, like a blade was slicing right through him and it hits him hard just how close he was to death for that instant.
"Blood magic. It's dangerous stuff," Merlin murmurs.
David nods, unable to do anything else. His lungs are still protesting with exertion, like he's just run a mile at top speed but slowly air becomes easier to breath. Merlin stays crouched next to him until he has recovered, looking more than a little concerned. Finally, his breath returns and he's able to focus his thoughts again, his eyes landing on the wall of drawers.
"Whose heart did she need?" he wonders aloud.
"I don't know, but it wasn't mine," Merlin replies, standing and offering his hand.
"What? What do you mean it wasn't yours? She has your heart?"
"Yes. Mine is in the fourth drawer from the left, second row down," the wizard tells him while pulling him to his feet, "Which is another reason we need to get this spell cast. There's no telling what she could command me to do if she gets desperate."
David doesn't reply and Merlin turns away to get back to business, waving his hand over Snow in a wide arc. As he does, the silvery dome of Regina's spell shimmers into sight and this time David traces along the edge with his eyes, only now seeing the way the barrier also protects the line of golden drawers behind his wife. The second wave of Merlin's hand produces a second dome about a foot away from the first. Without a word, the wizard tips the vial over the glistening air and the seemingly fragile dome solidifies and burns bright red for a long instant that David can feel pulling at his veins. Then the wizard steps back and, without looking at him, reaches out to touch it. There's a loud sizzle when Merlin's fingers meet the edge and he snatches his hand away as the dome glows bright again.
"Now, you," Merlin says.
David approaches carefully, lifting his arm in front of him. The closer he gets to the barrier, the faster his blood pumps but when he makes contact, his heart calms instantly and his hand pushes through without a single ounce of discomfort.
"Excellent," he hears Merlin say.
David realizes then that he's been holding his breath and it whooshes out in a relieved huff.
"We should get going before a patrol of black knights finds us."
"I'm not leaving," David declares.
Merlin rounds on him in surprise. (Apparently, even the most esteemed wizard there has ever been can be caught off guard upon occasion.)
"Your Majesty," he tries to reason, "there's nothing more you can do here. You'll be discovered – "
"Have you seen that?"
"Well, no, but visions aren't like watching movies. I don't see everything, only bits and pieces…"
David ignores the 'movie' reference, cutting back in, "Then you don't know if I'll be discovered."
"I know there are other things you need to do and I know you can't do them if you're here!"
The argument on David's tongue deflates, his eyes moving to Snow's angelic face. Dammit, this is torture of the acutest kind. Being this close and being denied. He'd touched her – his fingers are still tingling from her skin – he'd nearly awoken her.
If only he'd been quicker…
If only he'd had ten more seconds…
If only…
If only he had another chance.
And maybe he will…
"Regina could lift the spell again," he says with rushed words as the idea forms in his head, "It was down long enough. If it happens again, I could get her outside the spell, then awaken her. It could work. Regina will need to put the heart back, won't she? Obviously, she doesn't carry them around if they're all here. She'll lift the spell to put it back and I'll move Snow as soon as it's down. It may not even be that long to wait. Maybe if we just – "
David cuts off his furious train of thought when he turns to Merlin, the image he sees making his heart freeze mid-beat.
Merlin's eyes are glossed over, his irises not even visible. He's standing completely still, hands at his sides but his breathing heavy and quick. It must be a vision, he thinks to himself, curiosity and unease filling his stomach with a heavy weight.
The wizard gasps and coughs as he comes out of it and David has to catch him to keep him from falling to the floor. After blinking several times, his irises return to their original brown, but they're filled with alarm.
"She won't be putting the heart back," he says, "and we have to go. Right now. Emma needs help."
Not as much CS in this chapter, but a lot of important stuff. The next one is slow going... but I hope to have it posted without too much delay. Wish me luck! And as always, I welcome your comments and theories!