The dark fairies did not summon Xanathusa back into the Dream Realm to meet again, and she was grateful for that. She wouldn't have been able to hold her tongue at their sneering derision and contempt for what they would call her failure to fully remove the pirate from the situation. It had been terrible luck that Jones had been found so quickly and hadn't been hurt worse. The disorientation curse she put on him could very well have led to his death if he'd fallen the right way and broken his neck.
It really was a pity.
So, the fairies might be angry with her, but the truth was that they were also monitoring the receptacle in which the girl's magic was being collected. They knew as well as she did that they were close to finished with extracting what they needed.
It mattered not that the pirate was back in the building, and that the girl had shown herself capable of pulling him into her dreams. With the failsafe Xanathusa had created when she'd been in Emma's apartment, she could extract the rest of Hope Swan-Jones' magic in just one more night.
The previous evening, she'd preyed on young Henry's kindness in order to gain access to her broken conduit, which masqueraded as a simple silken butterfly. A gift from a kind old woman to an innocent young girl. Once there, with the unwitting help of that special little girl, Xanathusa hadn't just repaired the conduit. She had also added to it a curse that she could trigger from the Dream Realm.
It was her own special version of a sleeping curse. When activated, it would keep the girl asleep and trapped in her nightmare, where Xanathusa and the fairies could extract the rest of the magic through the conduit.
The conduit was very special, a little piece of magic that worked in a land without magic. When properly activated by Hope's dreams, the conduit pulled the girl's power from her physical body in the real world and channeled it through a special portal to the receptacle in the fairies' realm.
Xanathusa really was a genius, she thought to herself. She was as proud of the conduit and the failsafe curse as she was of any magic she'd created over the course of her long life. She had finally surpassed the glory of her mentor, Morpheus. With the portion of the girl's power she'd be rewarded with, she could finally take revenge on all of her enemies across all the realms.
The plan still had its risks. Once the failsafe curse was active and the girl's family realized that they couldn't wake her, they would leave the apartment and bring her to a doctor. She would be disconnected from the conduit for good, and her magic would no longer be pulled into it. But, because there was so little magic remaining, Xanathusa hoped that in the time it took them to realize the girl couldn't be woken, she'd be able to extract enough for the fairies.
What happened to the girl after that was not her concern. Xanathusa supposed that the sleeping curse could be broken at some point. Indeed, the memory curse she and the fairies had cast at the Storybrooke town line was showing signs of cracking. True love had a tendency to do that. And once true love was combined with the truest belief in magic, or in miracles if one preferred, then a simple kiss could break any curse.
Fortunately, the Swan-Jones family wasn't there yet. That kind of belief still eluded them.
Xanathusa smiled coldly to herself, secure in her own belief that that they weren't going to find theirs in time.
Killian awoke to peace, quiet, and warmth. Later, he would recall it as a last moment of comfort and contentment before the tumult began and their lives were truly turned upside down.
Most of the warmth he felt radiated from the small girl nestled against his side, asleep with her little head on his shoulder. Her breathing was steady and her face was peaceful, mirroring the state of his own heart in that moment. Her golden curls were slightly damp with sweat, and they stuck to the sides of her tiny round face. She was an angel.
He had been dreaming about her; about all of them. They had been standing at the bow of a ship, an old ship like the one on which he worked but that felt even more ancient. It also felt familiar. The sun was setting over the horizon, and the four of them stood close together admiring the rich colors. Emma was standing close to him, her back pressed against his front. The scent of her hair in his nose. His right arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, and he moved his palm up and down slowly, lovingly stroking her side. Henry was to their right and a step in front of them, staring at the view with concentration as if he was searching for something.
Hope stood to Killian's left, gripping his hook in her tiny hand. Not his hook though. In this dream, he wore the other one. The one he'd worn in that dream from days ago, the dream he seemed to have shared with Hope. This hook would have looked deadly had it not been for the bright pink rubber stopper stuck on the end of its sharp tip.
In the dream, he'd turned away from the beautiful view of the sunset and looked down at his daughter's face. (In this dream she was his daughter again. Because of course she was.) She had turned to look up at him, a sweet smile on her face. Her bright blue eyes were shining.
"I'm right here, Daddy," she had said.
As he came fully awake, he looked down slightly to see that Hope was awake now too, looking at him with that same sweet smile. For a moment, he wasn't sure whether it was the Hope from his dream or the real Hope who had spoken.
Maybe it doesn't matter, he thought recklessly.
"You guys finally up?" Emma asked from across the room at the dining table.
He turned his head to watch her stand and walk over to them. She smiled, but even in his drowsy state, he noticed with concern that it didn't reach her eyes.
She bent down and plucked Hope from against his side. He thought he felt the girl protest a little, but her mother still pulled her away. Killian thought that perhaps he'd overstayed his welcome or gotten too comfortable.
He turned to swing his legs down and put his feet in the floor, and the motion sent waves of agony through his left side. He grimaced in pain.
"Take it easy, there," Emma said. "Go slow."
"Aye, thanks," he said. "Apologies for falling asleep for so long."
"No need to apologize," Emma replied, her back was turned to him as she brought Hope down the hall to the bathroom.
Her curt responses were causing his worry to grow. What had happened in the last hour or two to change her mood?
He knew that she could be skittish about intimacy. Maybe the act of bringing him home from the hospital and having him recover on the couch with Hope had been a step too far for her. Now she was backing away again. It hurt, but he understood that was her way. He would give her the space she needed.
He started to pull on his shoes in preparation for leaving when she and Hope returned from down the hall.
"Where are you going?" Emma asked sternly. "We're supposed to ice your ribs, and I was going to make dinner for everyone."
He looked up from his seat on the couch and searched her face, trying to interpret the mixed messages.
"Emma, I've indulged in too much of your kindness already," he said quietly. "I'm perfectly capable of icing my ribs and feeding myself across the hall. Really, it's okay."
She looked at him with indecision in her face.
Ultimately, Hope made the decision for them. "Mommy, Killian has to stay. We're supposed to be watching him! We told the doctor we would!" Her tone matched the stern one that Emma had just used on him, and he failed to suppress a smile at how similar the two ladies were.
"Right. We did," Emma agreed, her face softening a little. "Stay there, I'm going to grab the ice packs and get the water boiling for pasta." She paused, then smiled slightly and rolled her eyes. "I'm mixing it up a little. Ravioli tonight instead of plain spaghetti," she added self-deprecatingly.
"Sounds wonderful," Killian replied with real sincerity.
"Hope, sweetie, go check on Henry and tell him we're eating in 20 minutes. Can you do that?"
"Aye aye, mom!" Hope replied. She shot Killian a knowing grin before bouncing off past the kitchen and down the hall towards the kids' room.
Emma rifled through the freezer for a moment and returned with a soft ice pack typically used to treat sports injuries, plus the fateful bag of frozen peas he'd used to treat her wound several nights ago.
She brought them over to the couch and sat down next to him, leaving a good half a foot of space between them.
"So, apparently I only have one real ice pack," she said apologetically. "But as you know, I'm a big fan of frozen peas."
He chuckled a little and started to unbutton his shirt from the bottom.
She watched him, and he could tell she felt awkward.
"Do you need-" she began.
"No, I have it. The dizziness I was feeling when I looked down seems to be gone" he replied. He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and reached out to take the ice pack and bag of peas from her.
She seemed unsure again for a beat but then made up her mind.
"Uh uh," she said, shaking her head. "You lay back, and I'll do it."
She seemed sure, so he accepted the help. He swung his legs back up onto the couch and reclined. She carefully laid each icy cold bag onto his bruised left side. Despite her cold demeanor since he'd awoken, her touch was warm and tender. He tried to keep his heart rate steady, but it naturally quickened when she was this close to him.
She finished setting the ice packs after following his directions to where the pain was worst. As she pulled away, her left hand brushed the hair in the center of his chest, and he took in a sharp breath of air that had nothing to do with pain.
Her eyes met his for just a moment. In them he saw fear, worry, and confusion. She looked at his face like she was searching for an answer. He did his best to give her one, letting his guard down completely and hoping that she could see the truth of his feelings for her. That she had enchanted him. That he adored her. That he would never, ever do anything to hurt her or her children.
Emma didn't reward him with an answer about whether it had been enough. Instead, she simply gave him a small smile and nod and returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Dinner was fine. Henry and Emma were both uncharacteristically quiet, but Hope more than made up for it with her chatter about their day. Apparently, she also still had a lot of questions about the hospital and his ambulance ride the night before. He did his best to answer her in non-scary ways.
When everyone was finished, Hope grew quieter as well. Killian noticed her stealing glances at the ever darkening windows.
"Mom," she said softly. "I don't want to go to bed."
Emma sighed. "It's not quite bedtime yet, sweetie," she replied. "But you will have to go to bed sometime. It will be okay. How about tonight you just sleep with me again?"
Hope nodded, but doubt still clouded her face.
"Did she have another nightmare?" Killian asked.
Emma nodded tersely. "Yeah, last night. Not fun."
Killian felt his heart twist with grief. "I'm very sorry, little lass," he said to Hope.
The little girl was starting at the floor. Her brow was furrowed. "Thanks," she replied quietly.
Killian glanced up at Emma, who was staring at Hope with heartbreaking love and worry, looking every bit as helpless as he felt.
He looked back at Hope, who raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm sure your mum will keep the nightmares away tonight, lass. Nobody is stronger or braver than her."
Hope shrugged. "That is true, I guess."
Emma scoffed in mock indignation. "You guess?" she chided Hope. "I'm the toughest mother around!"
"Oh my god, Mom," Henry scolded, rolling his eyes at Emma's terrible joke.
They all laughed, and everything was okay for a little while.
Killian finally took his leave not long after dinner. Hope was back to being crestfallen at the prospect of having to go to bed soon. She gave Killian a long hug goodbye. She didn't seem to want to let him go. Emma gently pulled Hope away and sent her off with Henry so that he could help her get ready for bed. The little girl's eyes were sad as she gave Killian a final tiny wave goodnight. He smiled, winked, and waved back, but his heart was weighted down with worry for her.
"I'll walk you back across the hall," Emma told Killian when the kids had gone.
He nodded, guessing that he was about to find out what had been bothering her.
He unlocked his apartment, and she followed him inside, where they both stood near the entrance to the kitchen.
"Do you want to sit down?" he asked her, scratching behind his ear nervously. He had a feeling that she wasn't going to be making any small talk.
She shook her head and pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans.
"Do you know a man named David Nolan?" she said. Her face was dark and unreadable.
He searched his memories. "Nolan? No, I don't think so," he finally replied.
"You don't think so?" she challenged curtly.
"No. I don't know anyone by that name," he retorted, getting frustrated. "What is going on, Emma? You've been short with me since I woke up this afternoon."
By way of a response, she unlocked her phone and opened her voicemails. She put the phone on speaker, pushed play on the latest message, and Killian Jones heard the kind and sincere sounding voice of David Nolan.
After it finished, he just stared at her, bewildered.
"I got it this afternoon," she said matter-of-factly. "Why would he say that I should trust you if you don't know him?"
"Swan," he replied. "I have no idea. You must believe that I don't know anything about this." He paused, considering the worst part of the message. "Why would anyone want to threaten Hope?"
Emma's cold demeanor cracked for a moment, and tears sprung to her eyes. Instinctively, he reached for her, just grazing her arm with his hand before she took another step back and shook her head.
"Swan. Emma," he said, hearing a pleading note creep into his voice. "You have to know that I wouldn't have anything to do with something nefarious. I would never let anyone hurt Hope."
She studied him. "I don't know that," she replied. "You were the one who told me about your checkered past after you got out of the navy. How do I know you're not involved in some creepy kidnapping ring?" Her voice raised with a slightly hysterical note at the end of her question.
He felt sick at the realization that she didn't trust him.
"So that's it?" he said after a moment. "You've just decided, because of a voicemail from a stranger, that I'm a bad guy?" His voice was raspy and thick. He knew that he would break down and cry if she turned and left. If she took Hope and Henry away.
Her expression softened the tiniest bit, but her tone was firm. "I don't know, Killian. Put yourself in my shoes and think about hearing that message. I have to protect them."
"Then let me help," he pleaded. "Let's find out who this man is together and figure out if there really is some kind of threat." He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. "Do you think this could have anything to do with Hope's nightmares?"
Emma looked at him skeptically. "What? Hope's nightmares are about stress and anxiety about all our moving around and my crazy life. Why would they have anything to do with this weird voicemail?"
"I don't know," he replied. Something was bothering him, nagging at him. Something he felt like he should have understood. Did he know David Nolan? There had been something familiar about the voice on the message. Something that had triggered warmth and trust. Certainly not fear. And Nolan was from Maine, of all places. The place where things had started to get weird for Killian.
Finally, he remembered his nightmare, the one he had shared with Hope but about which he'd never told Emma. Did he already know what the threat to the little girl was?
All of the events of the past several weeks started swirling around in his mind begging to be arranged in an orderly sequence, but he couldn't manage to do it.
Emma was still looking at him warily, but there was an undercurrent of hope in her eyes. He knew that she wanted to trust him.
He decided to try being honest, to see if she'd be willing to help him make some sense out of his thoughts.
"Emma, have you ever been to Maine?" he asked.
She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Uh, of course. It's basically the next state up if you don't count a little bit of New Hampshire coast. Everyone's been there. I just took the kids up there for a beach weekend about six weeks ago."
"Six weeks?" Killian replied quietly. It was too much of a coincidence.
"Yeah. Why?"
He took breath before he replied. "Six weeks ago I found myself alone on a wooded state highway in Maine. I had been camping, but someone stole my gear. I managed to hitchhike to the bus station, and I still had cash in my wallet, so I bought a ticket back to Boston."
"Okay, it's a little weird they we were both in Maine at the same time," Emma admitted. "But it was summer. Lots of people go to Maine in the summer. That's why they call it freakin' 'Vacationland.' Where are you going with this?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I just feel like some of these events might be connected. Hope's dreams, the message from a town in Maine and us both being in Maine at the same time shortly before we met. And since we've met I've had this feeling of..." He trailed off, worried that she would scoff and turn away at his next words.
But she stood her ground. She even took half a step closer. "Feeling of what?"
"I feel like I know you, all three of you. Since that day Henry dropped the poster on the stairs, I keep having feelings of deja vu about you."
She was listening to him intently, and he thought he saw fear and something that looked like guilt cross her features.
"Have you felt anything like that with me?" he asked hopefully after studying her expression.
She looked at the floor as she answered. "I don't know. Maybe. That happens with people sometimes, though, deja vu. But if we knew each other before, why wouldn't we remember?"
"I don't know," he replied. There were other pieces to the puzzle that he needed to show her. There had to be a way to make sense of it. He pursed his lips and thought for a moment then said, "Wait here."
He knew she would be impatient to get back to the kids, so he hurried to retrieve the item he needed from his bedroom. When he returned, he held out his hand and showed her the simple but fine band of platinum.
"A ring?" she asked.
"Aye. I was wearing it on the ring finger of my hand when I was in Maine."
"So?" she said skeptically. "You've never worn a ring before?"
"Of course I have. In fact, I have a couple of menacing and ostentatious rings from my more colorful days after I left the navy. I wore an earring back then as well, and a chain with a skull hanging from it. All of my jewelry is in a box on my bureau. I have specific memories of acquiring each of those other pieces. But I don't remember buying this ring."
He paused and gathered his courage, because he risked scaring her off with his next words. "All I know for certain is that it's a wedding band."
He looked into her eyes, willing her to believe him and to somehow understand, even though he didn't. Not all the way.
"Killian," she said carefully. "What are you trying to say to me? That we were married, you and I? That you believe Hope when she says that you're her father?"
He had been too afraid to put all of it into words like that, but she had gone and said it for him. He felt tears in his eyes, and he had to take another deep breath before he spoke again.
"Aye," he replied softly. "I suppose I am starting to wonder if that is indeed the truth. I know it sounds impossible. But what a lovely miracle it would be if it were true."
Those words must have touched her, because sympathy graced her features for just a moment before she hardened again. "Killian," she said. "You must know how crazy this sounds. Just because of a little girl's fantasy, and because you don't remember buying that ring." She paused, seeming to come to a realization.
"Oh my god, Killian. These delusions could be symptoms from your concussion!" She suddenly looked concerned. "Maybe we should call Dr. Okonedo!"
Killian shook his head and looked her in the eyes, willing her to see his resolve. "I can imagine how it must sound," he replied sadly. "But it's not the concussion. And I'm not crazy. There are too many things that just don't make sense."
Emma sighed. "Okay, what else?"
"Well, for one thing, in Maine, my camping gear was stolen but I still had my wallet."
She shrugged, because of course there were easy explanations for that.
"In my wallet," he continued, "was a Massachusetts driver's license with my name and an address of an old apartment."
"So?"
"Emma, I don't think I know how to drive."
She actually burst out laughing at that one. He flinched, a little hurt.
"Killian," she chided. "I'm sure you can drive. Or maybe you just got the license a long time ago and haven't driven in years or something. I don't think it proves anything."
"I don't know. I just know that lately I've felt like there was a haziness to some of my memories. A false quality even."
"Memories fade over time, Killian. Mine definitely have. Neither of us is a kid anymore."
"Aye, true. But I remember the last six weeks with perfect clarity. After Maine, I returned to Boston and the dingy hotel in which I'd been living. I applied for and got my job, and I should have looked for an apartment in Southie or Dorchester, close to work. But for some reason, I came all the way here to Brighton, and I found this building. And then I met all of you."
"What? So you think it was fate or destiny that you moved in across the hall from us?" she asked with a scoff. "Killian, I'm serious. You're scaring me. I think we should call the doctor."
"Emma, I'm fine. Some of my memories are muddled, but it's not the concussion. There is something more complicated at work here. And now someone has called you with a warning saying that you know him but don't remember, and that you should know and trust me too. Emma, please, listen to your gut. You know we have a connection, all four of us. I've never felt anything like it, and I know that you feel it too."
Emma bit her lip as she considered him. "How can that be true, though?" she said finally. "What you're suggesting is preposterous. If we had been together, if we had been a...family, why and how would we not remember?"
"I don't know," he said quietly.
"But you think Hope is your daughter."
"I don't know."
"What about Henry? Because for better or worse, I see Neal in him every single day, especially as he gets older. He's not yours."
"Aye, I do know that he's not mine. But I feel the same devotion to him that I do to Hope, if that makes any sense."
Emma shrugged, seeming to be at a complete loss, so Killian pressed on.
"And what about Hope?" he said. "You once told me that you couldn't believe that, what's his name, Frank, could have produced a child like her. Tell me the truth, do you see any of him in her? Or do you see me?"
Her face gave away her answer even if she chose not to vocalize it.
Instead she replied, "Killian, we just met you. There's no question about that. I remember meeting you as clearly as I remember anything in my life. And you have a job and an apartment and a life and a history. None of that involved us until a few weeks ago." She sighed before continuing. "Look, I care about you. So does Henry. Hope adores you. I'm glad that you're in our lives, and I want you to stay. Despite this crazy voicemail, I want to see the best in you."
He smiled a little at that.
She sighed and went on, "So much as happened since we met. Hope's nightmares, your fall, now this voicemail...it's been a crazy few weeks. Maybe you're just exhausted, and your mind is having trouble making sense of things."
She was sticking to logic and reason. Why shouldn't she? Still, he felt defeated. "Aye, that's probably it. I'm sorry, love. I realize how I must sound. I'm just emotional, and maybe I need more sleep."
Relief washed over her features. He had given her an out, and he knew that she was going to take it.
"But I do promise you," he went on before she could go, "I don't know anything about that message or any threat to Hope."
She nodded, "Okay, we'll leave it for now. And if you're talking crazy again in the morning, I'm dragging you back to Mass General."
He tried to force a sincere smile, but based on the sadness and worry in her eyes, he knew that he had failed.
"I'm sorry again, Swan. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Killian."
She moved to go then suddenly turned back to look at him. "Just for the sake of argument, say someone had messed with your memories, replaced real ones with fake ones, or whatever. If they went to such a level of detail that you remembered acquiring your other jewelry, why wouldn't they just give you a fake memory to explain how you got the wedding band too?"
He looked down at the ring he still clutched in his hand, then he shook his head. "I don't know," he replied softly.
She nodded at him sadly and opened the door.
"Maybe they couldn't change that one," he said suddenly, before she could depart.
Through a haze in the farthest reaches of his mind, he could see a rooftop at twilight. It was decorated with garlands of the prettiest flowers he'd ever seen. And standing in front of him, dressed in the most stunning dress of white lace, was Emma Swan.
"Maybe certain memories are simply irreplaceable," he added quietly.
Something in his words must have touched her heart, because she gave him a small smile and her green eyes sparkled with tears.
"Goodnight, Killian. I'll come by to check on you tomorrow," she said thickly. She left and closed the door behind her.
Emma stood in the hallway gathering herself and trying to control her emotions. She did not want the kids to see her cry.
He was crazy, right? He was saying crazy things. And he was most likely part of a plot against her and her family. That was the only reason why the other crazy man had left her a voicemail saying to trust him. It had to be. She couldn't let herself believe otherwise. She couldn't let her guard down. There was too much at stake.
Still, when she came in and found that Henry was quietly reading to Hope on the couch, Emma stole away to her bedroom and stood in front of her dresser.
She opened the top drawer and pushed aside a bunch of her bras and underwear to find the small box in the back corner. She knew that it was a stupid and predictable place to hide valuables, and she mentally chastised herself for it. But the truth was, she hadn't thought of the box in about six weeks, ever since she'd hidden it.
She opened it up and looked at the two rings. They were prettier than she remembered, shinier, even though she was pretty sure that the "diamonds" were just well made cubic zirconia. She squinted at the round cut stone on the engagement ring. It was beautiful, and it looked real. But Neal could never have afforded anything like this that was real. She suddenly had the terrible thought that he might have stolen the rings, or bought them off of someone who had.
She took the rings out of the box and placed them on her left ring finger, just where they had been when she'd been driving home from Maine with the kids. She hadn't remembered putting them on before that trip. She didn't think she'd worn rings for years. But they had to be from Neal. They had planned on getting married at some point, so he must have bought the rings, and she found them after he died.
The thing was, she couldn't remember finding them. In fact, she couldn't for the life of her remember with any certainty where she had gotten them. All that she could think about at that moment were Killian's words.
Maybe certain memories are simply irreplaceable.
Shaking her head, she took the rings off and placed them back in the box. She put the box back in the drawer and shut it forcefully.
She was tired as hell too, and that was why she was letting his words get to her.
Still, as she straightened up the apartment and got ready for bed, she couldn't stop thinking about the images she'd seen in her mind the night she had kissed Killian on his couch. She couldn't stop thinking about wedding rings. And for some reason, even though it was past nine o'clock in New England in the fall, and therefore already dark outside, she couldn't stop thinking about sunsets.
After completing her nighttime routine, she went to get Hope and bring her to bed.
"Mommy," the little girl said. "I want to put my butterfly next to your bed tonight."
"Okay, sweetie," Emma said. "That's fine. It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess. But Mrs. X and I did a magic spell on it to make it lucky so that Killian gets better. She said I had to keep it close."
Emma recalled Henry saying something about the "magic spell" being part of Mrs. X's visit last night and rolled her eyes. "Honey, Killian is fine. It's fun to have good luck charms, but I promise you he doesn't need it. He's all better."
She winced with guilt as she said the words, remembering how she'd blamed his crazy theorizing on his concussion just a half an hour ago.
Hope seemed to pick up on her doubt and said, "I know. I just want it still."
Emma nodded and went into the kids' bedroom. She said 'goodnight' to Henry and retrieved the butterfly jar. When she returned to her room, Hope was already in bed. Emma placed the butterfly on the nightstand.
"Good?" she said to Hope.
"Good," said Hope.
Emma crawled into bed with her daughter and snuggled her close. She looked down into that adorable little face and those beautiful blue eyes and said, "Sweet dreams, bean."
Hope nodded and snuggled closer, and Emma turned off the light.
"Hope!" Emma cried, hearing in her own voice the panic she felt in her chest. She was in the woods, not far from the house. Hope couldn't have gotten far. It hadn't been that long. Why had she chased that stupid grey cat anyway? She knew better than to leave the yard. Emma had only looked away for a second, and she was gone.
"Hope!" she called again, and it was more like a scream this time. As she went further into the woods, she felt the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand up. There was electricity in the air, and it felt unnatural. In the distance, coming from deep within the trees, Emma thought she heard a low and sinister buzzing sound. She followed it.
"Hope, please, where are you, love?" Killian's worried voice sounded from her left. She looked over at him. He was traipsing quickly through the brush, wearing his usual black leather jacket. His boots and black jeans were covered in mud. His face was a mask of panic as he peered into the forest.
"Killian?" she called because he hadn't noticed her yet.
He stopped and looked over at her. Realization seemed to dawn on him at the same time it did her.
They were dreaming. But they were also really there, both of them.
And Emma knew, as she knew that he did, that Hope was here too. They were in one of Hope's dreams.
She gave Killian a silent nod, and they hurried deeper into the woods together.
Hope was hiding. She'd found a bush whose branches weren't too pokey and crawled underneath it. It was dark, so she hoped she was hidden from the witch and the bugs.
They had come for her again. They tried to get her some nights when she was asleep. The bug people with the black wings and weird faces would buzz around her and use their powers to take something out of her chest. It didn't hurt, not really. But it felt weird and wrong and she really didn't want them to do it anymore.
She stayed as quiet as she could, hoping they'd go away. But she heard the buzzing, and it was getting louder. She was so scared. Henry once said that if you wanted to wake yourself up from a bad dream, you should pinch yourself. She winced as she pinched the skin on her arm again and again, but she couldn't wake herself up.
Still the buzzing grew closer. Then she heard the witch. "Dear one, where are you? It's time to play our game again!"
Hope scrunched her eyes closed. Maybe she could become invisible if she wished it. "Come on, little dear!" The witch kept talking to her, looking for her. "The sooner you help us, the sooner you can go home to your mommy!"
Hope choked on a little sob as she thought of her mommy. She missed her so much right now. And her daddy too. She wished as hard as she could that they were here.
Suddenly, from the direction away from the one the buzzing was coming from, she heard her parents' voices.
"Hope!" they cried, again and again. Their voices sounded scratchy and scared.
She knew that she was going to lose her hiding place if she went to them, but she didn't care. She needed them.
She burst out of the bush and started to run towards her parents. She was so happy and relieved to see them. She was almost safe.
"Hope!" they yelled together, both of them running towards her. They had almost gotten to her, when out of nowhere, the witch appeared.
In that moment, Hope finally realized that the witch was also Mrs. X. She hadn't known it before, because she looked really ugly and scary here. She smiled at Hope, but it was a mean smile. Then she stuck out both her hands, and an ugly cloud of orange energy shot out from them. It formed itself into a wall around Hope's mom and dad, surrounding them on all sides. The energy was bright and swirly, and she could barely make out her parents' faces now. She could still hear them yelling, but they sounded quiet and fuzzy like when her mom yelled to her from the kitchen when Hope was in her and Henry's room with the door closed.
Behind her, Hope could hear the buzzing of the bug-fairy-people getting louder, and she wanted to get away from them so bad. She took a deep breath, and she ran towards the energy wall that held her parents. She thought she heard the old witch laughing as she ran, but she didn't care. When she hit the wall, the energy knocked her backwards, and she fell and landed on her butt. She landed so hard that it took her a minute to catch her breath.
Once she did, she began to cry.
Her mom and dad were still calling her name, and it sounded like they both were about to cry too.
She looked up and saw that the Mrs. X witch was standing over her, looking at her with those scary glowing orange eyes and horrible mean smile. The old lady reached down and pointed her finger towards Hope's forehead. The witch closed those awful eyes for a moment, muttered something, and lightly touched Hope's brow.
Hope gasped as she felt a pulse of energy run through her body. She knew a little about curses, and she knew she'd just been cursed.
The buzzing was all around her now too, and Hope scrunched her eyes shut. She didn't want to see all the bug people with their black wings and evil faces.
Her chest was shaking as she sobbed, terrified.
The witch spoke again. "It's almost over, little dear. Just let us take the last little bit of what we need."
"No!" Hope managed to cry once she caught her breath again. "Please! It's mine, and I need it." She wrapped her arms around herself to try to keep them out. But that had never worked before, and it didn't work this time.
The biggest and meanest of the bug people flew in front of her. His wings and his eyes were black, and when he grinned at her, she saw that his teeth were a yucky yellowish color and very pointy. He reached out his tiny hands, and she felt him begin to pull more of her power out of her chest.
They were taking her magic, for she knew that's what it was. She had known all along. She was little, but she knew she had something special inside of her. Something they wanted and that was almost all gone now.
She continued to cry as they drained her. And when she stopped crying to take a breath, she realized that she couldn't hear her mom and dad anymore.
Emma woke in terror. She wasn't sure if she had been screaming out loud, but her throat was raw. She was also conscious of hands on her arm, and she turned to the side to see Henry's terrified face. He knelt by her bedside. He was clearly scared, but his face gradually relaxed as he realized that she was awake.
"Mom," he said. "You were screaming. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Kid," she rasped. She cleared her throat. "I'm okay." But the dream...
Hope.
Emma looked down at the sleeping child next to her. Hope was deathly pale. Her hair was sweaty and matted to the sides of her face. And she was shaking.
The shaking was so bad that, for a moment, Emma wondered if her baby girl was having a seizure. Did she have some form of Epilepsy? Then she remembered the nightmare. Watching through an orange haze as those flying monsters came for her baby.
Emma sat up in bed and grasped Hope by the arms as Henry looked on in fear.
"Hope, sweetie, wake up," Emma ordered.
Hope's eyes remained closed. Emma tried again but there was no change. Somehow, she knew that this time was different, much worse than those other nights.
"Mom," Henry said, his voice thick. "What is happening? You were screaming. And when I came in, that stupid butterfly thing..."
Emma turned towards him sharply, and Henry swallowed before continuing.
"Mom, it was glowing. I swear."
Emma took her hands off of Hope's arms and reached for the bell jar with the silk butterfly. She picked it up off the nightstand and threw it across the room with all her might. It hit the opposite wall with a thud and fell to the floor. But it didn't break. In fact, Emma thought she saw it shake for a moment. It trembled, like it was alive, before coming to rest on the floor.
Emma turned her attention back to waking Hope. She shook her and pleaded with her, but there was no response.
She was not surprised when she heard the banging on the door of their apartment.
"It's Killian," she told Henry, as calmly as she could. "Please go let him in."
Emma was sure that Killian knew, just like she did, that something was very wrong with Hope. Of course he did. He had been there in the dream, just like she had.
Once she had accepted that this time was different, and that she wasn't going to be able to wake Hope by the usual means, she simply pulled the shaking, unconscious girl into her lap to cradle her.
"Please, baby," she said quietly. "Fight it. Try to wake up. Mommy's here."
She looked up when Killian walked into the room. He wore his pajamas and he had no brace on his arm. His hair was sticking up at all angles, and his face was ashen.
Emma nuzzled her face against Hope's ear and whispered to her daughter, "We're all here."
She heard Killian swallow hard and say, "She won't wake up?"
Emma just shook her head against her daughter's cheek. She felt like a sob was going to escape her throat at any moment.
Killian walked the two strides he needed to get to the bed and sat down opposite Emma. He reached for Hope and brushed her damp hair off of her face. Then, he reached down and held Hope's harm firmly, in what seemed to be a futile attempt to quell the girl's trembling. Fresh tears sprung to Emma's eyes as she watched him, and one spilled out when she turned towards the doorway and saw Henry standing there watching the scene play out. He looked terrified.
She realized that she had to take charge.
"We have to get her out of here. To a doctor, I think. A hospital."
With a sudden burst of inspiration, she handed Hope to Killian. He looked at her with fear and something like awe as he pulled Hope to his chest with his strong arms and cradled her like a baby. Emma could tell that he was whispering something to the little girl, but she couldn't hear what it was.
Anyway, she had to move.
Emma grabbed some clothes from her dresser and threw them into the bathroom. Then she sprinted to the kitchen for her phone and called Dr. Li's office to leave a message that they were taking Hope to Boston Children's and could Dr. Li come there or call her as soon as possible. At least Dr. Li knew them, knew the background about Hope's problems. Maybe she could give them some guidance once they got to the hospital.
She hurried into the bathroom to change, then went back to her room to relieve Killian. Emma pulled the sweaty and trembling Hope back into her own arms.
"I'm taking her to Children's," she said tersely. "If you want to come, go get ready now. We're leaving in three minutes."
Killian nodded and stood. He took one last worried look at Hope then hurried out of the room.
She addressed Henry, who was sitting at the foot of the bed.
"Henry, go change. Pack her some clothes. And grab her Olaf pillow. Meet me at the front door."
Henry nodded and complied, and she was proud of his composure in a crisis. He met her at the front door two minutes later with Hope's backpack, her pillow, and his school backpack. Killian was already standing in the hallway dressed in jeans and a wrinkled henley when they emerged. He was still buckling his brace as they headed outside to Emma's yellow VW.
It was 4:15 in the morning when she turned her car, carrying all four of them, onto Longwood Avenue and pulled into the Emergency Department entrance at Boston Children's Hospital.
Killian carried Hope inside.