With all the tea that Mary Margaret had been pushing at her, Emma knew full well that her headaches weren't due to dehydration, as David kept insisting. The clashing memories caused physical pain as well as confusion and constant worry. Unlike with Killian, however, everyone pulled together to pamper Emma, and she never picked up a sword in a week-long rampage of jealous frustration. Instead, she had her mother administering head and neck rubs, Will hovering with plates of nutritious food, and Regina fretting over spells to lessen the impact.
She watched as her past self fell hard and fast for Killian's kindness and charm, only too willing to set aside her natural scepticism in the face of his persuasive smiles. She wasn't jealous, however. She understood perfectly. Even with a decade more wisdom, Emma had been unable to resist him. She wouldn't normally have credited her father's overprotective disapproval with having an impact on her actions, but then, once David had more or less accepted her burgeoning relationship with Killian, she'd been on her back after less than 24 hours alone with the pirate in the woods. Emma sighed as she was fed new memories of her younger self tempted into buying Killian's story.
So she alone wasn't surprised when he managed to lock the necklace in place in only a couple of days. Mac and David had settled in for a long wait, talking in hushed tones about where she might safely deliver the baby, making plans to move Emma back to Cath Harbour. She gritted her teeth and told herself that she'd have the baby in a field right here before she abandoned Killian. But then he pointed her teenage self towards the starry New Mexico sky, and disappeared with her.
Emma's memories went haywire. She felt everything that young Emma had ever known and believed being upended in a moment in the face of Neverland. When Henry had brought her to Storybrooke, she'd had weeks to come to terms with magic and fairy tales, and even then she did not fully accept it until she watched her kiss bring her son back to life. This teenaged and mentally unstable version of her had to readjust in just minutes, and she had to do it with only a pirate she had known for just 2 days for company.
Her new memories provided a brand new first encounter with Neverland, but this one wasn't overshadowed by existential fear for Henry. Teenaged Emma blinked into the humid, technicolour landscape and marvelled at the fairies and the water and the strange plants with their mystical powers. She held tight to Captain Hook and did everything he said without question; she knew nothing of Pan or the Dark One or the Lost Boys. She acquiesced to the Captain's superior knowledge. It set realtime Emma's teeth on edge, that dependence, and to top it all she felt a tiny bloom of Hook-like jealousy in her veins. Which was ridiculous – hadn't she told Hook himself that he was being ridiculous, jealous of his own self?
In none of her new memories, though, did Killian touch her younger self. He slept apart from her, sat apart from her, held his hands behind his back when he stood near her. Emma knew damn well that the man could never keep his hands to himself around her – always a hand at her back to guide her through a doorway, or brushing over her hair, or sliding along her breast whenever he thought he could get away with it. She warmed a bit inside: Killian would not take advantage of a teenager.
Even though Emma could feel quite strongly that teenage her was thinking of taking advantage of him.
…
"I really am Captain Hook. Have been for a couple hundred years," he insisted, encouraging the fire he had built to greater heights. A soft evening had descended and Killian had decided to let Emma rest before setting off in search of fairies tomorrow.
"You're missing an essential piece of equipment if you expect me to buy that," Emma shot back. She was shivering in front of the fire, despite the warm air. She looked him over critically, as though cataloguing every bit of him, every gesture.
Killian laughed. "Aye, true enough, lass," he waved his left arm in front of her, "no hook. My wife took care of that for me, you see."
Emma frowned and stared into the fire. "Your wife? You mean me?"
"Well, a future version of you. You're not her, not yet." Killian flexed the fingers of his left hand in the firelight, smiling at the memory.
"How did I do it? Get your hand back, I mean."
Killian stopped piling wood onto the fire and sat back on his heels, considering her question. "I don't know exactly. Magic, of course, but I like to think it had to do with our True Love, which we had even then, even if she'd never admit it. Damned stubborn you are in the future."
Emma had thought herself damned stubborn now. "What happens to me that makes me more stubborn than I already am?"
Killian looked straight into her eyes. "As far as I know, it's already happened. I think your reactions just… entrench." He shrugged it away with a grin.
"What exactly did you mean by magic? Do I have magic in the future?"
Killian laughed at that, lighthearted and happy. "Aye, lass, you've magic in the future, and you've magic now. That's why we're here."
Emma sighed in frustration. "I don't have magic. I'm really sorry. I want to help you, help myself I guess, but there is nothing magical about me. At all."
"Trust me, lass. You have magic. The most powerful of light magic. But we will go into all that tomorrow, after a rest and some food, aye?"
Emma stood up of a sudden and kicked the sole of her boot backward onto the log she'd been sitting on. It barely budged. "If I'd had fucking magic, Captain, don't you think I'd have led a somewhat less suicidally depressing life? With parents and a steady home and a clean arrest record?" She paced around the fire twice. "Anyway, we're still a decade too early for your wife."
Killian sat still on one knee in front of the fire, not standing nor moving to tend it, wary of her reaction. "We're back in my time. Neverland's funny that way."
"How do you know we're in your time and not mine?"
"No crying," he pointed to the darkened sky, and she shot him a disgusted look. "No, I don't mean your crying. Night's fallen, but not a Lost Boy to be heard – the sound of their crying used to reverberate across the island, for those who could hear it. And you and I always could. This time is after we defeated Pan and carted the Lost Boys away to Storybrooke. Hopefully it also after my last run-in with the Fairy Queen, because that was not entirely pleasant, and the person who saved me is back with her mother in the Enchanted Forest."
"Fairies?" Emma slumped back onto the log, incredulou. "There is too much you're not telling me…"
"The tales that I haven't told you could fill a library. But there's only so much I can burden you with. You truly are going to have to trust me, Emma." He sat carefully on the log opposite her.
"Show me this magic, then. Explain to me what you want from me. I want to believe you."
"That would be proof. If you have proof, evidence, then you don't need trust. I want your trust," he held her gaze, unblinking. "I came back in time to save you. I love your future self far more than my own life, and you will simply have to trust me when I say that I have proved that time and again. I would give up everything in a moment to guarantee her happiness and that protection extends very much to the version of Emma sitting in front of me." He fell silent for a moment to let his words sink in. "So use that superpower, Emma. Am I lying to you?"
Emma sighed and turned back to the fire, holding out her hands to warm them. Killian allowed himself a small smile. She believed him, at least, and that was no small feat given how completely outrageous all of this must seem. He also knew that after he found the fairies, there would be no turning back for her.
…
Killian had finally closed his eyes, waiting deep into the night to make sure that Emma had finally slipped into sleep before he allowed himself to follow. So when he woke utterly confused and still exhausted only an hour later, his bad mood tumbled forth into the clearing at a low but clearly audible volume. The fairy he'd swatted to the side stayed hidden, frightened of his cursing and hissing.
"Just bloody show yourself; I'm awake now." He leaned over to check on Emma, still safely asleep on the other side of the low fire. Concerned that she not overhear his conversation, Killian rose quietly and padded softly past the first line of trees at the edge of the clearing. He saw the yellow fairy hovering over Emma, flitting from one vantage point to the other, taking her in. Killian whistled low to draw the fairy to him.
"Hook!" she gushed, buzzing around him twice before settling herself to her feet at full size in front of him. "What's wrong with Emma? Where's the baby? Where's her magic? She's all… wrong." The fairy bounced worriedly on her toes.
"My Emma is in the Enchanted Forest with her parents. Merlin sent me back in time, to this," he nodded to his sleeping companion, "version of her. That's Emma, but she's only 18, and until earlier today she had no idea magic existed. She's still sceptical and very, very fragile. I'm trying to break it all to her gently, but, you know, urgently." Killian paced, the fairy matching his every step. "I need you to convince her about magic, and, well I don't know… tell her how to use hers! Fix her."
"But she's from The Land Without Magic! I can't just make her a sorceress equal to Merlin. It's taken your Emma years to work on her magic, and she's still a bit unpredictable with it."
"But you can set her down that path. You can teach her just enough."
"Just enough to do what, Captain?"
"To get me in the door. Get me to Merlin, so that I can finish him."
…
Fairies. Emma had spent 3 days with fairies. Fluttering, glittering, shimmering, petal-wearing fairies, who sprinkled sparkly fairy dust onto things to make them float, or shine or spin. Emma herself could now make things float and shine and spin, with or without fairy dust to help. Emma herself had magic. At night, she would sit across the fire from Captain Hook, who watched her ceaselessly, worried and on edge. She would bury her face in her hands to try to hold her head together and gather the final scraps of her sanity around her.
Because… whoa. Her hands glowed white with magic. They moved objects without touching them. This could not be possible. Hook scratched his arm while carrying firewood, an inconsequential little nick, but when she saw the blood forming a line of tiny dots below the rolled-up cuff of his shirt, her hands began glowing. She couldn't stop herself from walking over to him, laying her hands on arms, and lifting them to find no sign of the cut. He grinned and thanked her sweetly but lightly, as though he expected this sort of treatment and found it commonplace.
Emma was freaked. At night, when she stared into the treetops above her into the unfamiliar constellations, she would begin to hyperventilate, the utter unreality of her current reality threatening to tear her apart. Hook would watch, and offer assurances and small kindnesses, and she knew damned well he didn't sleep, didn't dare. She worried, because he was strung taut as a sail about to snap in a gale, and if Captain Hook was nervous for her, she knew she needed to be nervous for herself. She just didn't know why.
So she spoke into the wakefulness. She asked him again why he had brought her to Neverland rather than home to his Emma.
"Because your stones brought us here. Emma had explained to me that during her trip into my past, my former self was still able to work the stones, even when I didn't know who she was. You and I are True Love and always have been and always will be. It doesn't matter if you don't know me. Also, because Merlin can't see us here."
"What? Merlin is spying on me?"
She could just make out Killian nodding in the firelight. "He can use mirrors, or any reflective surface, even a still puddle, to see us. But not in Neverland. There's a force field here that blocks his magic. He will suspect we've left your realm, but he won't be able to find us."
Emma smiled to herself. "Like shields on spaceships in Star Wars?"
"Umm, sure, like that." Killian was once again grateful to Henry for his crash course in modern culture. This girl in front of him was hardly older than Henry, he suddenly thought. Only a little younger than he was himself when he lost Liam.
Killian rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand studying Emma. "We need to go. Very soon. You are the key to finally destroying Merlin and the threat he poses to us."
"Me? I can't take on a wizard! I can't levitate a stick – I know because they made me try earlier today." Emma sat bolt upright in protest. "Why do you think I can help?"
Killian smirked. Emma was growing used to that expression on his face, only used when he knew beyond certainty that he was holding a winning card. "Because you have an invitation to Merlin's castle, but he's not expecting you."
Emma thought that over in the quiet night. Long after Killian had fallen asleep, lulled by rum and the warmth of the fire, she tried to imagine herself as the magical, powerful creature that he and the fairies kept telling her she was. A few short days ago, she had been at her weakest point, too tired and sad and full of regret to carry on breathing, and now she was expected to rush in wielding magic and save her own future. The prison, her baby… it all felt worlds away. She grinned to herself when she realized that the prison and all known police officers and crushing poverty and every fucked-up foster family and, most very importantly, Neal – all of them were – literally – worlds away.
Her hand drifted down to her stomach, flat again now and ghosted over her hips, ever so slightly wider now than before her pregnancy. She couldn't stay here, she thought with a start. She could not live in a world where her child was not. Even if she never saw him again, she somehow needed to be accessible to him, and he to her. Anything less really would be abandonment, and she felt guilty enough as it was. Guilty, she sighed. Even if it hadn't been true when they'd put her in prison, it certainly was now. She sighed more deeply. Even if Neal hadn't left her, even if he had been put away for his own crime, she had to face the fact that the baby was undoubtedly better off with whatever adoptive family had taken him in. If only she knew. If only she could be certain that her baby wouldn't suffer what she had.
Well, all the answers are right there, she thought to herself. You can wake him up and ask him. She had avoided the subject of her son, and Killian had never mentioned him again. She couldn't make up her mind if she wasn't strong enough to know, but she felt certain now that she was far too weak for not knowing. Killian shifted in his sleep and left out a half-snore, hefting himself onto his side, his face now directly in her line of sight.
Emma found it far easier to soak in his beauty when he wasn't looking at her with those soulful blue eyes. She did not find it hard to imagine her older self falling for him. She had heard the girls she went to high school with talking about how this boy or that boy wasn't good enough for them, or more commonly, that their parents thought the boys weren't good enough. Emma had only ever been involved with Neal, but she didn't need anyone else to tell her that he hadn't been good enough for her. Sadly, she'd had no one to point this out when it mattered.
She lay on her side, considering Killian Jones. If she did have parents, what would they say about him? Good enough or not? She had no guarantee that her decision-making skills had improved over 10 years – maybe they were even worse. This man had an agenda, he was a self-confessed pirate and he had stolen her away to another world without asking her permission. Kidnapped her, really. Just because some parts of his mad story added up, that didn't mean…
"I'd say he's good enough."
Emma froze, and she felt as though her blood had turned to ice. Killian breathed on, unconscious and unaware, across the fire. She looked up to see a man in a sharp suit seated on the log behind her bedroll. He smiled benevolently towards her and held both hands up in what she took for a placating gesture. His cufflinks shone in the firelight, and she could make out his dark hair and blue eyes.
"I freely admit my bias, but if you're looking for a parental opinion on the matter, I can offer mine," he smiled, nodding in Killian's direction. "I'd say he's perfect for you. But then, I'm…"
"His father," Emma finished. The likeness was uncanny, the hair a bit greyer, the clothing entirely more Italian-expensive, but otherwise the same, down to the voice and the gestures.
Davy Jones nodded, delivered a warm, ingratiating smile and scooched a bit closer. "You know, your older self calls me Papa. So I sort of hoped we might forge a relationship of that sort. You seem rather in need of a parent right now, and yours are stuck a whole realm away, helping the other Emma."
Emma hunkered down on her bedroll cross-legged and pulled the blanket around her for protection. "'Papa' ain't gonna happen. And I don't like you reading my thoughts. Can he do that?" Emma thrust her chin in Killian's direction, refusing to let go of the blanket.
"No, and he would never indulge in a breach of your privacy like that," Jones soothed, his accent light and calm. "Killian is utterly devoted to your happiness and well-being."
"You would say so…"
"I would, but that makes it no less true. You have no faith in your own judgement." Jones stood, and reached out a hand for Emma to join him.
"I've got plenty of evidence that my judgement sucks," she retorted, slumping a bit more into her blanket.
Jones shrugged and put his hands on his hips, looking serious. "Lass, you made a bad call. So did he, once, and it cost him dear." Emma glanced over to him, sound asleep and peaceful and so, so beautiful. Jones allowed himself a triumphant little smile, but she caught it.
"Get out of my head," she waved him off and finally stood. "He's using me, and his pretty eyes won't help a damn bit once he gets what he wants and then waltzes off and leaves me alone."
"No, but mine will." Emma's eyes widened at that. "No, child, nothing like that. I am only here to assure you that when you go back - and you're right, you will have to - I will watch out for you. I cannot and will not influence your future, because if you hope to meet my son someday, you need to do pretty much exactly what you did before. But I can help you feel less lonely while you do it."
"What happens to me? He never talks about it."
"You will return to your world, to your life, just as you left it. You will remember nothing of this."
Emma felt tears crowding in behind her lashes. "So after all of this…" she swept her hand at the surrounding forest, "I take nothing back with me? I have magic! And parents!" And a hot husband, her mind supplemented.
Davy pulled her down next to him on the log, and before she knew it, she was on the receiving end of the sort of fatherly hug she had never thought life would provide her. "Emma, it's going to be a tough ten years. But at the end of it, you will have your son, you will have your parents and you will have Killian. Is that worth it? Are you willing to make a sacrifice now, to secure all of this in your future?"
Emma felt that she had nothing left to sacrifice, nothing left to trade for a better future. Her whole life had been one long disaster. She let out an anguished noise, but tried to smother it so that Killian wouldn't wake. "Don't worry about him," Davy reassured her. "I sent him far under. That man does not sleep like a proper human. He wakes if a twig snaps on a neighbouring island."
Emma giggled a bit, and Davy pressed his advantage. "Emma, it will be all right. I will check in on you, keep an eye on you. I promise." He sighed and hugged her gently, and she lowered her head onto his shoulder. "And I know you've had enough of men and their promises, but you are just going to have to trust us. We are your family now. We will keep you safe."
"I'm an idiot, because I do believe you. I just never learn…"
Davy gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You have learned to be suspicious, and rightly so."
"Um, how did you get here, anyway? And how can you promise to watch over me? Who are you?"
"Davy Jones, princess. The gatekeeper of hell. I can move between realms, and I can find you and protect you, no matter where you are."
Emma just blinked at him. People said the most outrageous things to her lately, and most of it true. So she just nodded at him and sat back down on her bedroll, where she had a clear view of the mythical pirate captain who claimed to be her lover, and his father, who had just popped in from Hell to introduce himself.
A soft thud and a sudden rustling in the trees beyond their clearing made Emma jump; Davy immediately pulled her into his chest and commanded her to stay close.
"Killian!" Davy snapped his fingers and his son blinked awake and was on his feet, sword in hand, faster than Emma could inhale a gasp.
"Da?" he blinked, eyes scanning across the tree line. He heard the shifting and shuffling in the forest beyond, then stood nearer Emma and his father. "Merlin?" he mouthed to Davy.
Davy shook his head. "He can't come here," he whispered. "But he could have sent someone else. He can't see into this realm, but he can send a scout to report back."
Killian and Davy exchanged a hard look, one that Emma couldn't read. She shifted her gaze between the two of them. "Is someone here to attack us?" she asked softly, her voice breaking a bit.
"Shhh, don't worry, princess," Davy pulled her closer. "We both promised your Da that we'd keep you safe, and we will."
"Princess?" Emma balked, a bit more loudly. "Just let me go and give me a sword if someone's out to kill us."
Killian grinned despite himself. "Emma, we're going to have to eliminate him. If he sees us, and returns to tell Merlin… we lose the element of surprise. Right now, Merlin knows he's lost track of us, but he's not sure where we are, or when we are." He gestured for her to stay put with this father, and disappeared into the trees, just wide of the source of the noise.
Killian could hear the clumsy rattling of Merlin's scout to his left. Please don't let it be a child he's sent, Killian murmured to himself as he followed the inexpert footsteps silently through the woods. Within 12 paces, he had a man in his sights - poorly dressed, just out of his teens – and Killian hardened himself to the task. If this man spotted them or heard them, he would immediately head back to Merlin by the same magical means he'd come here. Protect Emma, he thought, protect our child. The young man swung round, just catching sight of Killian and clutching a vial of dark dust in his grimy hand. Killian didn't stop to think or consider; he sunk his sword through the youth's neck, and snatched away the still-stoppered vial of magic before it could harm him or his future wife.
He sunk to the ground next to the body as it bled into the soft earth, and stowed the magic dust in his jacket pocket. He cast his eyes up at the treetops and the glimpses of stars, and he asked forgiveness, again. He listened carefully, and hunted the area for signs of intruders for another two hours, until he was certain that the young man had been sent alone.
By the time he broke the tree line into their little camp again, his father had Emma back under the heavy blanket of her bedroll and sleeping peacefully. He was seated next to her on the ground, his dark wool suit covered soaking in grass stains and dirt, and he was tenderly stroking her hair. Davy looked up as his son settled onto the log nearest Emma, then he smiled back down on her. "I swear by all the gods that this is the result of milk and a bedtime story," he said softly. "No magic and no drugging. She was knackered, poor thing."
Killian just nodded and handed the vial over to his father for inspection. "What was in it?"
Davy held the vial up to the firelight and even Killian could see a worm-like movement and almost breathless panting in the dark matter inside the tiny glass bottle. "You killed him?" Davy enquired almost conversationally.
"Aye. Now what the bloody hell is that stuff?"
"Yardrak. Nasty substance, and blessedly rare. Would have wiped her personality and her memories, left her open to being commanded by the sorcerer who created it." Davy lifted his other hand experimentally from Emma's hair, checking to see if her breathing remained steady and quiet. He rose to his feet. "I'll take this down with me and dispose of it properly. But you're out of time, son. He will soon figure out where you've gone, when this is the scout that doesn't return."
"She's not ready. She's not had enough time."
"She's ready enough. Use the stones to get you back to Emma, well, your Emma. She will need to kiss you to keep you alive. I don't know what he has planned to curse you with on the other side. What was it for her?"
"Drowning. She was out of the water, but drowning all the same."
"You will have happiness, Killian, and you will build a safe life for your children. I know it. But you need to end that godsforsaken bastard of a wizard first. Are you ready?"
Killian nodded sharply. Davy Jones swirled his hand through the air and a bright, ornate sword appeared in his hand. He grasped it by the blade and extended the hilt to Killian.
"Excalibur will kill him. You just need to be close and strike with certainty."
Sliding the sword into a scabbard on this belt, Killian held out his hand to his father. "Thank you. I'll tell her that you said goodbye." Ignoring the hand, Davy pushed into his son's space and embraced him. Killian was too shocked to move.
"I love you, son. Tell Emma that I love her, too." And with that, Davy Jones disappeared back to the shores of hell.