Killian swatted at something he sensed in front of his face. He felt his hand come into contact with something small and warm and almost weightless. He snapped open his eyes and sat up in rush, as completely awake as he had been completely asleep only a moment before. Emma's head slipped off his chest and fell to the grass with muted thud. Every nerve ending fired alive as he took in the scene in front of him. Emma gave a short snore and snuggled deeper into the grass.
Something buzzed back in front of his face, and this time he fought the desire to swat it. Its dull light switched back on, recovering from his earlier assault, and it shook itself out in front of his eyes. A fairy, he knew, but what type - helpful or vengeful or injured - he had no idea.
"Sorry," he apologised with a shrug. "Just a reflex. Something unexpected waking you up on a pirate ship is generally something you need to defend yourself against."
The fairy grew in size, revealing herself a bit more. Her dress looked like one of the yellow flowers, but her expression said she was not going to accept his apology so quickly.
"Hook," she spat. "What a pleasure."
"Ara, you look as stunning as ever. Graceful and dazzling as the sun on…"
The angry fairy zoomed forward and thrust one finger out at the space between his eyes. "Stop talking, pirate. You're only in because of her," the fairy jerked her head towards Emma's sleeping form. "We can toss you back out in the cold while she sleeps."
Emma continued to doze peacefully on the grass next to him, covered in yellow flowers from the branches overhead. He brushed his hand through his hair and more of the bell-shaped flowers fell to the grass around him. The branches of the tree had righted themselves while he and Emma had dozed, and the view out to a small village was clear.
"Can you help us?" Killian asked. "And look," he waved both hands at her. "Get my name right. Hook doesn't really work now."
The fairy backed off a bit. A small explosion of glitter burst in front of him and she reappeared, now the size of a small adult. She sat down in the grass next to him and took his left hand in hers.
"Hmmm. She did this? Very well, Killian," his name dripped off her tongue with sarcasm, "wake the Saviour and we'll talk." She stood and walked a few paces towards the village. "I'll be over there," she pointed out a green space between two buildings on the high street.
He leaned over Emma and carefully brushed the flowers off her hair and face, so that she would not breathe in so much of their soporific scent. She must be more sensitised to the magic, he thought. He bent down and picked her up from the ground. The flowers scattered into the breeze. He set her down beside a small stream and dipped his hand in the cool water. He rubbed a small amount over her forehead and airways.
"Emma," he called softly. "Time to wake up, love."
She opened her eyes carefully and slowly brought his face into focus. She felt like she had a hangover, but could not remember either of them drinking. Killian didn't even have his flask on him.
"Splash some water on your face," he told her. "It will clear some of the pollen from your lungs."
Pollen? She sat up and heard the quiet rumble of the stream running past over smooth granite stones. She dipped her face over the water hand and splashed water over her nose and mouth and rubbed it into her hands. The cool water cleared her head. She dried her face on her skirt and looked around.
"Where is this?" she asked, taking in the almost quaint scene in front of her. A perfect little main street stretched in front of them, running away from the green park they sat in now. Flowers of every kind surrounded them – sunflowers, roses, daisies – Emma quickly realised that she knew very little about flowers and could not name the majority of them. A warm breeze blew the scent of lavender over them both. The high street had little shops and cafés, all perfectly painted, with coloured and striped awnings over the pristine pavements, little window boxes with more flowers in front of every business and house.
"Gotta be fairies, right?" Emma asked him.
He nodded, resigned to dealing with the fickle creatures. "Yes, fairies. I had thought they might be able to tell us how to get back to Storybrooke. But also they may know what Arthur is after, or have a way to protect you from him." Killian pulled them both to their feet.
"They may know what caused that portal in Storybrooke in the first place," she added. She missed Henry fiercely. "I suppose we shouldn't tell them that Blue and the others are trapped in that hat." She looked at him sympathetically. She knew he still felt guilty for trapping them while Gold had his heart.
"I hope Regina and Belle have found a way to free them, with or without us," Killian said. "We may have a more immediate problem, though. I know one of the fairies from… before," he evaded. "Ara. She controls this tree. I'm afraid I piggybacked on their desire to see you to gain admittance. She may not be… thrilled… to deal with me again."
Emma caught the implication straight away. "You've got yourself quite the complex history with fairies, don't you? Is this a story of the trapping-them-in-a-hat variety or something more intimate?"
Killian raised an eyebrow at her. "Swan, I do have a history, not just with fairies, but that is irrelevant to you and me."
"I am simply curious about how many women in this – and other – realms you've managed to shag over the last couple of centuries," she kept her voice level. "On a purely practical level, I am wondering if we going to be begging help from angry ex-lovers at every turn." More pages filling in, she thought. She just hoped they wouldn't all be illustrated.
Killian scratched nervously behind his ear. "Now's not the best time for this conversation. Let's go see what Ara can offer. I'm sure the fairies will want to help you, Swan. They will have information…"
"I'd like some information," Emma cut him off. "What's your number?"
"My number?"
"Yeah, the number of women you've slept with. Including those you didn't stick around long enough to actually sleep with. The ones were you just pulled your trousers back up and walked away…"
"Emma. Emma, come on," he shuffled himself around in front of her, trying to meet her eyes without directly confronting her lie-detecting gaze. "You knew I had a past. It has nothing to do with us. I would never ask for your number…"
"Twelve. My number is twelve," she said. "Before you," she added, taking him in from boots to ruffled hair. "Making you… thirteen." She wondered if that number carried the same superstitious punch in his realm.
"This is not really a fair comparison. I have been alive for centuries longer than you," he spoke cautiously. She stood there looking like a keg of explosives, and he did not want to inadvertently light a match. "It's not like I've been keeping track. I don't have a tick list somewhere."
Emma glared at him. Killian took her unwilling arm and tugged her towards the high street, trying to placate her: "We should not keep Ara waiting any longer. We can have this conversation another time. Back at home, with Henry sleeping safely down the hallway." He tried to conjure up an image of domestic normalcy, hoping to make it sound achievable.
He rubbed small circles into her lower back as they walked past the perfect little shops and homes. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. He felt her begin to relax as they approached the temple where Ara had agreed to meet them. The entrance stood back from the street with a small area of grass and fruit trees at the front. Ara sat on a bench under a tree bearing bright pink fruit in almost the shape of a pear. She offered one to Emma.
"Saviour, the fairies have been gathering inside, waiting to meet you," she smiled broadly and sincerely at Emma. Ara glanced over at Killian with disdain. "Hook, you can wait out here."
The fairy's dismissive tone brought Emma back to her senses. It was not fair to judge him on his past lovers, and she knew that. She had no reason to suspect he had been or would be anything but faithful to her, or that he had been anything but faithful to Milah. Emma reached over to him and twined her fingers into his, pulled him to her side and told Ara, "I need Killian to come with me. We fell through that portal together and we need to find a way out together."
Killian pulled Emma close, and spoke into hair in voice so secretive that she barely understood. "You know, love, there may be a few fairies in there who won't be that pleased to see me again."
Emma felt her neck stiffen, but she shook it off. "Okay. It's okay. Just tell me how many?"
Killian scratched his boot along the stone pathway to the temple, avoided her gaze. "Well, I don't know who's in there. Possibly… quite a few."
Emma snorted out a laugh at that. "Seriously?"
"I spent decades in Neverland," he shrugged. "Lots of fairies."
Ara looked at him in disgust. "How nice that we could pass the time for you," she bit out through her teeth.
She led Emma and Killian through a gate formed of twisting acacia trees. In the centre of a large courtyard was an ancient tree, enormous and brilliant, with deep red leaves and waxy flowers of the purest white. The deep perfume of the flowers washed through the temple; Emma felt it settle in her hair and clothing, like she could sense its weight on her. Killian sneezed and reeled back a step. He felt all of his nervousness drugged out of him with the overpowering scent, replaced by a peaceful desire to comply. It frightened him. He liked his nerves; they kept him sharp and ready.
Dozens of fairies flitted through the tree branches and rematerialised as human-size creatures on the lawn surrounding the tree. Emma melted a bit closer into Killian's side as they approached her, touching her hair and peering into her eyes. As he warned, some of them stopped to look him over with particular interest.
A fairy with deep black hair spilling over a white gown called from her seat in one of the lowest branches: "Emma Swan. Come to me, Saviour. How is it that you are here with us?"
As though pulled forward like a puppet, Emma walked to stand in front of the White Fairy. As she moved nearer the tree, she seemed to pass through a transparent barrier. When she the boundaries of the tree's branches, her scratchy, scruffy, stolen dress transformed into a turquoise gown that stopped just above her knees. Her shoes were gone and the grass threaded between her toes. Her hair felt as though it were shining, straight and bright, as it fell down her back. She felt renewed, no sleeves or woollen cloak to encumber her bare arms, the soft, simple dress allowing her to move freely. Killian had been renewed as well, back to his pirate-leather trousers and plain linen shirt the colour of his eyes. She drew in a sharp breath as she looked him over. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Killian tried to shake of some of the enchantment. He answered the question: "I brought us here," he addressed the White Fairy. "We fell through a portal in Storybrooke. I fell in first, pulling Emma in after me, and I was thinking of this place as I fell."
"Hook," nodded the White Fairy. She noticed his left hand. "Or not… indeed. Did you intend to bring the Saviour to the Forest? I fear it is not safe for her. It is not safe for you, either, but I think we were all willing to let you take your chances." Around them, fairies heads bobbed in agreement. They may not stoop to hurting him themselves, but they were willing to let others do so.
"Now that's hardly kind, not the fairy way," he argued, grinning mischievously. "I have never taken or given anything to the Fairies that was not specifically agreed upon. I have never stolen anything, of any kind, from any of you."
The White Fairy brushed aside his declaration. "You have not answered my question. Did you intend to bring the Saviour here?"
"No," he answered with authority. "We were happy that morning in Storybrooke. I did not open the portal, and I did not intentionally bring us to the Enchanted Forest."
"Arthur is searching for you," the Queen intoned. "For you and for her. He wants you both, alive, at least in the first instance. He opened that portal from this side. He knew where in Storybrooke to trap you, and opened it under your feet. He has access to powerful magic to accomplish that."
Emma furrowed her brow, deep in thought. "Does he know we're here with you? Can he enter as we did?"
"You were invited in. Arthur will not be. He is not a good man, and he means to harm you," the Queen explained. "But he is resourceful and persistent, and he will find a way in here eventually."
Killian instinctively put his arms around Emma. The fairies gasped slightly, as one. Even Killian could see that he and Emma were glowing with an inner light. He tugged her tighter to his chest; the glow increased. True love, he thought, illuminated in the Fairies' sacred space. It came to him in a rush that he had forced an admission of love from her, back when the villa shattered around them, but he had never said the words to her. Idiot, he thought.
"Well, you must stay together, that much is obvious," the White Fairy continued. "We can't send you directly back to Storybrooke. Whatever magic Arthur used to open that portal also closed the way back. But if we combine our magic with yours, we can send you somewhere else. Somewhere safe, while we figure out what Arthur wants and how to stop him."
"Can we jump realms?" Emma asked.
"Possibly, but magic that powerful leaves a trail, and the purveyor of Arthur's magic would follow it," said a tiny, purple fairy, pushing her glasses up her nose and hurrying to sit near the White Fairy. She carried a book in her arms. "I think Merlin is after them."
"We need a more subtle solution if we are to outwit Merlin and buy time to figure out his plan," the White Fairy agreed.
"The Villa," said Killian in a rush. "Emma created a sort of safehouse and she was able to conjure images of places that both of us could see and smell and hear, though we never tried stepping out into them. Could we use that to transport ourselves somewhere safe?"
"Yes…" the White Fairy consulted with the bookish purple fairy beside her. "Yes, we could add a small amount of fairy dust to push you through." The White Fairy produced a vial of glowing dust, and she tossed it down to Killian. He caught it sure and secured it in a pocket. "But stay in this realm. Use just a pinch of the dust, no more. And do not tell us where you are going! It must be known only to yourselves."
Tears had gathered in Emma's eyes. She had been barely able to breathe since the White Fairy said the way back to Storybrooke, back to Henry, was blocked.
The White Fairy fluttered down from the tree to stand in front of Emma. She took Emma's hands in hers, and brushed away the tears. "We will find a way back to Storybrooke, back to your son and your family and your friends," the White Fairy promised. "Please trust in us and in your love. We will work tirelessly to send you home."
Emma let out a small sob and buried her face in Killian's shirt. The fairies around them let out shuddering sighs and a few tears, all thoughts of revenge against Killian forgotten as he comforted Emma. Killian could not help a small inward smile; fairies were absolute slaves to a True Love story. Emma had saved him. Again.
"Let her rest here for a night, Killian," the White Fairy said kindly. "She must gather the strength to recreate your safehouse, this time with the potential to actually travel. Arthur is coming, but I do not sense that he is close. When you go, make sure that you choose the destination, not her, to make your journey even less traceable."
Killian nodded. The fairies led them across the street to small house full of light and colour. He saw a small kitchen towards the back and thick, cushioned armchairs by the windows facing the street. The floorboards felt warm and soft under their bare feet, as though nothing here could hurt them. Killian sank into a soft chair near the window. The fairies shut the door behind them and left them alone for Emma to recover. Killian pulled her into his lap, searching for something to say that would pull her out of her worry and grief. His hands roamed over the silky fabric of the dress and up her bare arms.
Finally, he gazed down on her head, balanced against his shoulder. He nudged his forehead against hers, so that he could look into her eyes. "So… and please believe I would never have asked this, it's only because you brought it up back in the park… but now you have me wondering." He paused for beat. "Neil, Walsh, me… who are the other ten?"
Emma swung for him, laughing. He caught her fist and brought the knuckles to his mouth, kissing each one.
"I love you, Emma," he whispered.
"I love you, too," she responded. "Obviously," she added, turning her still-glowing hand slowly in front of him. "I hope the light switches off when we leave Fairy Land, because we're going to be hellish easy to spot, otherwise."