~ chapter one: out of the shadows
The next morning found Emma calmer again, though still a bit shaken by the sense of something lurking and possibly tracing her steps, seemingly proven by the cry of that wolf the night before. She had opted not to share her misgivings with her newly reunited mother and father however. Even as she knew they would be desperate to listen and help her, reminding her for the 90th time that doing just so was all they had ever wanted, they were also a perfect fairytale couple almost sickeningly in love at having found each other again, and so nonsensically optimistic that Emma wasn't sure she could handle them both blindly reassuring her that everything would be fine and that she was worrying over nothing. Real life wasn't some children's story or Disney movie - at least, hers had never been. And so she simply avoided getting platitudes and chipper comfort, no matter how well-meant; she didn't want to snap at them for trying to do their best.
Instead, she had quietly woken Henry with the promise of a special breakfast for the two of them at Granny's. The opportunity for sweet French toast and their favorite hot chocolate with cinnamon, plus his mom all to himself, which had been rare since the chaos of the curse breaking, had her bright-eyed boy grinning and dressed in minutes, ready to go. The excitement of them sharing a secret had his big, brilliant eyes twinkling with glee; he almost bounced where he stood, his enthusiasm more than could be contained in his small ten-year-old frame. Needless to say, it took only minutes to get him out the door and down the street, skipping along at her side and talking as fast as he could draw breath to sustain the torrent.
Henry only truly paused once they were seated with plates of sugared, fried toast dripping syrup and butter and steaming hot before them. Emma chuckled to see him start shoveling forkfuls into his mouth as fast as he could, grinning at her around the battered bread confection as she finally snuck a few words in edgewise to ask what he'd been studying at school and how his friend Paige was doing now that she knew she was also Grace and had a father named Jefferson to split her time with as well as the adopted family she had always known.
Only as Henry began to detail the science experiment with tiny maple shoots his class was doing, did Emma glance up at the ring of the bell over the door at Granny's entrance. The tall form filling most of the doorframe and blocking a fair bit of the early morning light through the glass for several seconds, made her breath stall in her throat. She was frozen, unable to blink, for fear the vision before her would disappear. The dark headed stranger; scruffy, wiry, and clad in full dark denim and black leather, stared back at her with a stunned sort of recognition, even as Emma knew she had never laid eyes on him before. There was no way she would forget a man who looked like that. No matter how uninterested in dating, romance, or potential heartbreak she was, Emma certainly wasn't blind or oblivious, and no red blooded female could see this guy and not have their heart rate kick up a notch or two.
It wasn't until the man shook his rather shaggy mop of hair slightly, almost as though trying to clear his head, that the overpowering connection of their gazes broke and Emma felt herself draw in another breath, looking down in embarrassment at the flare of heat blooming over her cheeks. She knew that meant her fair skin bore a bright and telltale blush that she didn't want detected. When she again chanced another look up through her lashes, the man had dazedly moved to the counter to place an order and was speaking unheard to a smiling Ruby. There was something a bit off about Ruby's stance, even as she smiled gamely at the new customer, that Emma couldn't quite figure, almost as if the wide grin were showing her teeth more than conveying a welcome. However, she didn't have long to puzzle on it before realizing that her intense focus had snagged her curious son's attention. She could feel Henry grinning at her as much as actually see the spark of playful curiosity in his eyes as they roved from the stranger near the entrance and back to her with interest, back and forth like he were observing a tennis match.
Sighing and shaking her head, Emma couldn't help a rueful laugh at her own expense, chest practically heaving and mouth hanging open in awe like a woman on the cover of one of those cheap bodice-ripper romance novels. Henry leaned forward, his eager amusement obvious as he whispered across the table to her. "Who is that, Mom?" he questioned, completely oblivious or simply ignoring her consternation. "Do you know him?"
Emma shook her head at her easily excitable little schemer, hoping he wouldn't draw attention to them with his not-so-whispered queries.
Henry did stay relatively quiet, thankfully, but nudged her hand on the table with his own. "You should go talk to him," he urged.
Before she could object or try to steer her son back toward eating his breakfast and getting to school on time, Emma was startled once again when the newcomer crossed to their table with three to-go cups somehow balanced between his hands. Coming to stand before them, the man's blue eyes - even more arresting up close - twinkled at first Emma and then Henry as his hip jutted in a decidedly rakish stance, and he held the proffered gifts out for them. "Hot chocolate with cinnamon," he explained with a playful wink, and then an encouraged smile as Henry's face clearly transmitted his delight. "The lass at the counter assures me it's your regular order." Pausing to wet his lips uncertainly, almost as though battling nerves, he then added an almost courtly and old-fashioned bow. "By way of introducing myself - Killian Jones, at your service."
Emma had tilted her head suspiciously, studying this Killian's words and actions when he chose to approach her with her son, but she trusted her gut as well as her instinctive lie detector and read nothing false or dangerous in his intentions. Sensing it to be a truly considerate and well-meaning gesture, she gave Henry a small nod and reassuring smile when he looked to her for confirmation it was alright to accept the treat.
Emma took her own beverage from his hand as well, and only when her skin brushed his with a shiver did she notice the stiff, immobility of his left appendage. She had to admit that she was both curious and struck with a pang of regret for whatever must have happened to him, but it didn't affect her nearly as much as the lurch of powerful attraction in her stomach immediately upon their fleeting contact.
"Thank you, Mr. Jones," her son spoke up brightly, scooting further into the booth they occupied in order to make room, even before he asked, "Do you want to sit with us?" Emma shook her head again, wondering if that hadn't been exactly what Jones hoped to achieve, though she couldn't truly be upset at her son's politeness, nor his friendly, accepting character.
Killian chuckled good naturedly, happy but also struck by a pang through his chest at just how long it had been since he had been welcomed by anyone with such ease and enthusiasm. He hoped his humored response had covered the accompanying flinch of pain, but he pressed forward just in case. "Please, just Killian will do nicely. Mr. Jones was my father; you'll make me feel old. As for joining you both, I would like nothing more, lad, but I do believe I heard your mother speaking of your lessons commencing as I approached?"
It was Emma's turn to laugh lightly then, her face practically glowing and her eyes crinkling as she joined their exchange. "He has you there, Henry! Nice try, kid, but we'd better get you to school before you're late."
Henry groaned, clearly much more interested in whatever new developments might happen in his absence than in attending class, but he dutifully finished his last bite of French toast, gathered his backpack and drink, and moved to stand. "Walk with us at least?" he asked hopefully, eyes trained with accuracy on the man he had clearly decided to make his newest friend.
Turning to search the stunning blonde deputy's face for approval, Killian felt the blood drain from his own visage, and the strength from his limbs, so caught up in the visceral attraction that pulsed between them once again. It was as though he couldn't look away, the connection, the pull between them was so strong. The force of it left him completely adrift, merely scant comfort found in the fact that - if he weren't mistaken - she seemed to be affected in much the same way. He had only meant to ascertain if she would be opposed to his accompanying she and her boy on their way, but he might as well have suddenly turned to stone, a mute statue, for all that he could voice any of his thoughts.
Seeming uncertain for only a second, she then gave him an almost shy smile. As if reading his eyes and his as-yet-unspoken question, she agreed with her son in a carefully casual lightness. "Sure, come along if you'd like - the more the merrier."
It didn't take a genius to see that this was going out on a limb for her; Deputy Emma Swan's offer wasn't half as nonchalant as she wanted it to appear. He could sense the way her pulse quickened, the light blush that tinged her cheeks, and the idle tension as she crossed and uncrossed her arms over her torso while awaiting his answer. An outcast himself - lost and alone for most of his life - Killian could recognize another with similar defense mechanisms. Even without the clues his heightened senses could detect from her bodily response to him, the kinship he felt warmed him beyond any simple animal magnetism he had ever encountered.
Scratching behind one ear nervously, he offered both mother and son a crooked smile before nodding gratefully. A chance to actually join in with those around him, be a part of something, was tempting despite its never having worked out well for him before. "Aye, I'd like that."
Their little trio was just moving to the diner's exit when a slight man with a cane swept in, a wave of fear and expectant energy covering the place with his arrival. Mr. Gold, the pawnbroker, though all were also aware that he was Rumplestiltskin - the Dark One - one of the most powerful magic users ever and not to be crossed, eyed everyone in the establishment; his beady, sharp eyes coming to rest on the three facing him, stalling where they had been on their way out.
Emma tried imperceptibly to move so that her body at least partially shielded and hid Henry from view, but Gold merely sneered silently as if to remind her that such efforts would be futile if he decided to strike, before coming to rest on the man at her side. The smaller man's eyes glinted cold recognition, narrowing as they centered on Killian Jones with a malice that made shivers of foreboding tingle across the back of Emma's neck. No words were spoken, but it was a stand-off all the same, and one she found herself suddenly desperate to break up. "Can I help you, Mr. Gold?" she asked while attempting to stare him down and stepping forward to draw his focus to the deputy badge clipped onto her belt.
The sinister hiss of his smooth, oily words was disconcerting, but Emma didn't flinch, wouldn't allow herself to show weakness. "Funny you should ask that, Dearie," Gold intoned almost gleefully, looking for all the world as though he really was savoring whatever he was about to unveil. "You do owe me after all." Emma cringed slightly at the remembrance of her agreement to return him a favor in exchange for Cinder-freaking-rella to keep her baby. "But let's wait for your colleague to join us… Oh yes! There he is. Good morning, Sheriff Humbert."
As if on cue, Graham stormed through the door at that very moment; a man on a mission, though he drew up short at Gold's positively jubilant greeting, immediately on the alert. It was clear to Emma, who had come to know him fairly well by that point, that her friend had entered into the diner with a purpose - something on his mind - but he certainly wasn't going to broach it with the Dark One standing nearby like a sinister eavesdropper.
"Good morning, Gold," Graham said with a nod in a friendly enough tone, but his eyes were wary as he watched the powerful imp who owned half the town, both literally as a landlord and figuratively as broker of the many whose deals he held over their heads.
Gold smiled lazily, his gaze encompassing their audience in the other booths and at the counter of the diner, Henry, Emma, Graham, before narrowing in once more with open hostility on Killian Jones. The wide, mocking smile vanished for a second as a truly monstrous glimmer passed over his face, then rippled and vanished so quickly that Emma had to wonder if she had only imagined it.
Bringing his focus back to the sheriff and deputy, Gold made an ostentatious gesture with his hand, twirling it up like the announcer on a game show or a magician flourishing before unveiling his favorite trick. "Well, now that we're all present…" he drawled with pleasure, "what I want from you is quite simple."
Emma narrowed her eyes more shrewdly, still attempting to put Henry as out of sight and mind from the troubling deal maker as she could, feeling her breath stopper up within her throat at the slight movement beside her which caused her to realize that Killian Jones, whom she had only just officially met and who owed her nothing at all, had shuffled enough closer to her side to aid the effort, effectively shielding Henry behind both their bodies. He'd done it so subtly that Emma herself wouldn't have registered the stealthy shift if it hadn't been for the way the fine hairs on her arm stood at attention in awareness of his proximity - electricity erupting in the air between them so strongly that she couldn't ignore the sensation.
Emma shot a quick sideways glance in his direction, only to find his light, sea blue gaze already directed her way, waiting to receive her response. She had meant to be surreptitious, not intending to give away what he had managed so smoothly, but as their eyes met, she couldn't help the sharp breath she sucked in at the impact, stunned and muddle-brained by his effect on her. Hoping to convey her gratitude for his help in protecting her son, Emma attempted to funnel that emotion into her expression, and to her relief, a warmth stole across Jones' striking features, laugh lines crinkling briefly at the corners of his eyes and a warm, comprehending smile pulling his lips up briefly as he nodded to her before turning forward to face their common foe once more. Still, somehow in that brief exchange, a bit of the pressure within Emma snapped. Her shoulders fell slightly from where they had been pulled high to ready herself in what Ruby jokingly called her "fighting stance". The easy communication she had just experienced, ready comprehension without even needing words, was incredibly rare. The sense that another person understood and valued the thoughts and opinions they read from her had possibly never been so clear before - certainly not with such ease or strength. Though she didn't have the time to work it out just then, or to weigh why it excited her and bolstered her courage instead of making her want to run, Emma filed the knowledge away, hoping for the time to examine and savor it later. A sense of kinship, of belonging and effortlessly understanding another person, was more welcome than she would have expected.
Pushing the whirl of emotion aside, Emma returned her gaze to the deceptively frail-looking older man in his sharp, tailored suit before them. Now well aware who he was, despite knowing only a fraction of what he had done in the realm where she was born, and all he was capable of doing, or had already done, to those she held dear, Emma knew the small, unassuming facade for what it was. Even when he appeared friendly and jovial as he did now, there was an undercurrent of danger that accompanied his mere presence, and she refused to be taken in or caught off guard.
Speaking up clearly and directly, not allowing her unease to show through, nor hesitating to meet him head-on, Emma stared right back into reptilian eyes that glimmered with intelligence and treachery, biting out, "Well, let's have it then," she prodded, inviting no grandstanding or tricks, just the plain truth. "Clearly you wanted an audience, so here we are. What is it you're after?"
"Ooh," Gold mocked a shiver of intimidation, "very bold, Miss Swan. So brash, so self-assured." A truly fiendish grin of delight stretched across his face, showing the glint of his teeth as he paused deliberately before warning, "I'd be a bit more careful of your tone though, Dearie. Remember, I'm not the one who's indebted here."
Judging by the abrupt hiss of air through clenched teeth that she heard to her left, Killian Jones had recoiled at the threat in that statement nearly as much as she had. Either shocked, angered, or displeased by the news that Emma owed this villain a favor, she wasn't sure which and she couldn't risk a glance at him to see. Instead, she grit out her response to Gold's admonition with a near growl. "Well, that may be true, but I certainly wasn't aware of all the details in the fine print, was I?"
"A deal's a deal," the Dark One simpered almost playfully at her, "doesn't matter if one later decides the price is too steep."
Emma continued to glower back, fists clenched at her sides, uncertain if she could even move from her defensive stance she was so frozen, so torn between rage and embarrassment at the bind she had locked herself into before knowing any better.
It was Graham who broke through the increasingly heated staredown. "Gold, tell us what you want and be done with it. This isn't the Enchanted Forest, nor have we any need of the theatrics." The firm, commanding tone her friend could pull off but rarely employed gathered everyone's notice. Emma caught him making eye contact, even as he spoke, with his adopted sister over their heads to where Ruby stood behind the counter. He must have been able to communicate his instructions well enough to her, as soon Emma heart shuffling and the squeak of footsteps on linoleum flooring at her back and realized that her brunette friend was almost certainly ushering diner patrons out the back entrance as stealthily and swiftly as possible. Emma held her breath, knowing the exits wouldn't escape Gold's notice. However, he seemed untroubled by them, and so the five of them stood in a sort of motionless tableau until the vacated diner was eerily silent and emptied of all innocent bystanders.
Giving one final titter of mirth, a sound that truly set Emma's teeth on edge, Mr. Gold, mentor to the Evil Queen herself, finally stated his business and laid all his cards on the table. "The maid in my employ back in our realm - Belle French - is still missing, despite Regina's curse breaking, memories being restored, and reunions happening left and right. She became rather invaluable to me during her time in the Dark Castle - good help is so hard to find, you know." He said the words flippantly, endeavoring mightily to seem nonchalant; unconcerned one way or another, merely wishing to reclaim a stolen possession, but there was a fervency behind the light words, a tightness in his face as he spoke, that set off Emma's sense of a lie. This maid meant more than he wanted to reveal. "She was unfailingly dedicated to her work and possessed of a ridiculously overdeveloped sense of honor," he continued. "She would have returned to her duties for me if she were free to do so. Therefore, I can only believe she has been taken. Someone is holding her against her will. And I want her found. Immediately."
This last was leveled with ringing authority, the implied consequences for failure unspoken but abundantly clear.
"And how do you know she was even brought over to this land with the curse?" Graham questioned smartly; Emma duly impressed by his quick thinking and completely logical argument.
Gold's gaze narrowed further still, his focus so intense on the Sheriff and former Huntsman that it made Emma want to flinch away from its burn though not even trained on her. Eventually however, he nodded succinctly as if he had found what he needed and moved on. When he spoke again, his voice was once more smooth, assured, and certain he would not be denied. "And excellent question, Sheriff Humbert. Perhaps your former keeper trained her loyal dog a bit better than I realized."
He paused, a knowing simper on his pointed face as he watched Graham stiffen, an involuntary shudder rippling visibly through his frame.
Emma bristled on her friend's behalf, not sure what exactly Gold meant by his words, but easily able to see they had upset and shaken Graham's resolve to an uncanny degree. She took a step forward, intending to break into their exchange and a hand coming to rest on Graham's arm in support, but Gold continued before she could speak. "Let us simply say that I know she is in the land somewhere. I would feel it if she weren't. That is all any of you need know."
"So we're just supposed to take your word for it?" Emma bit out harshly, not at all liking his assumption of control, nor the way Graham had still hardly moved since Gold's veiled insinuation. "We should expend all our department's time and resources on your wild goose chase, even though the whole town's in chaos right now?"
Gold sneered at her, undeterred and unwilling to acknowledge any claim as more pressing than his own. "You would find you truly regretted going back on a deal with me," he intoned, voice eerily calm but all the more troubling for it. "Not to mention," and his gaze trained on Graham once more, staring him right in the eyes as if to make sure the Sheriff caught every word. "He owes me even more than you do, Deputy Swan. Our good Sheriff might well decide he didn't have the heart to do otherwise."
Graham snapped his eyes free of the almost hypnotic serpent's stare Gold held him in, turning his head abruptly and clearly battling within himself for a moment, before finally rasping in a voice that sounded as though it had been drug over gravel that of course they wouldn't leave an innocent young woman to suffer, and they would do all they could to locate this Belle French.
Emma found her eyes going back and forth between the insidious businessman and her boss, aghast at Graham's seeming compliance with the demands and trying to decide what was going on between the words spoken, clearly something Gold could use as leverage on her friend that she wasn't privy to. Not that she minded trying to help someone genuinely in need - that wasn't the point - but she bristled at Gold thinking he owned the sheriff's department and could control them as he did so much else. Still, she bit her tongue, waiting to see what would happen and trying to trust that Graham would explain further when he was able.
Seeming to sense that he had gained their acquiescence, at least begrudgingly, and the upper hand, Gold's focus slid once more over to where Killian Jones stood at Emma's side. The newcomer's eyes never wavered from their aggressor, on his guard and vigilant, as if expecting an outright, physical attack, and Gold seemed equally intent, sizing up his quarry patiently. "And you," he nearly spat, a flicker of fire in his eyes that truly made him look for a fleeting second like the demon she had heard so many claim him to be. "Seeing you here, now, when my Belle is gone, makes me think you had something to do with her disappearance," he continued, drawing nearer as he spoke.
Killian tensed, a muscle in his jaw working at the sinister accusation leveled against him. Emma held herself back only because she was still determinedly trying to keep herself somewhat neutral in her official capacity, and physically between their foe and Henry. Even so, she had to grit her teeth, burning to step forward and defend the man next to her. He had just arrived in town, how could he have had anything to do with the disappearance of Rumplestiltskin's maid? She knew what it was to be doubted at every turn, mistrusted merely because she was new to a place, alone, and didn't belong anywhere with anyone else; it wasn't right or fair, but she had burned with the feeling more than enough to sense her defenses rising on Jones' behalf.
Next to her, Killian's eyes narrowed at his accuser, no longer a twinkling light and mirthful blue, but dark as a stormy sea, his right hand fisting and opening repeatedly as he held himself rigid, clearly wanting to step forward and strike out in retribution for the uncalled for slander.
The pawn shop owner studied them both, not missing a single detail: how close they stood to one another, how hard Emma was working to maintain a semblance of control, and how intensely Killian was struggling to keep himself in check. Somehow, even taking that all in, an insidious, evil grin stretched over his thin lips, as if pleased with the turmoil he had wrought.
When Killian did speak, his voice was a dangerously low rumble from his chest, a warning to back off, as he would defend himself and his own. The mere fleck of light remaining in his cerulean eyes flashed like lightning with his words. "Think what you want, Crocodile," he countered, Emma's brow furrowing in confusion at the strange moniker, and not for the first time wondering just what volatile history lay between this intriguing man beside her and the Dark One. "I may be guilty of many things - plotting to see you pay for all you've done to me amongst them - but make no mistake, I'll not hide in the shadows when I strike vengeance against you. You will know it was me. Kidnapping some former member of your household staff brings me no closer to my aim."
If possible, Gold's countenance grew even more disturbing at Killian's gritted words. Right before their eyes, his face seemed to darken in rage; for a second, Emma would have once again sworn that his skin nearly sparkled as if covered in glittering, truly reptilian scales and eyes turning almost yellow, before the vision dissipated and she blinked, wondering if the effect had been in her mind both times. The roar of his next words did make Emma flinch back though, their timbre almost inhuman. "You filthy cur!" he railed, taking a step closer to Killian, hand raised in a manner that made Emma fear he was about to strike Jones down where he stood.
To his credit, Killian didn't even blink. Gold's whole body seemed to shudder with a wave of power from within, as if the frisson was bursting to escape and barely contained in its slight, unassuming vessel. Pivoting to face Graham, his face close and eyes hard on Storybrooke's lawman, the Dark One's next statement chilled Emma even further. "I want Miss French found, Sheriff. And if you know what's good for you, you'll begin with that mongrel right there."
His finger pointed at Killian could not be mistaken, even as Emma watched, tensed, expecting some blast of dark magic she still knew very little about to spew forth and set him on fire or turn him into a toad - whatever horrible curse the imp could imagine, she supposed. Thankful that no such destruction occurred, her heart still sunk, even as she floundered for another course of action, at the slippery wizard's next words. "He can feign innocence all he likes, but that degenerate cannot even deny that he has gone after her before, merely to injure me. I want him brought in for questioning, Sheriff. Consider it a part of the debt you owe me."
Shaking her head, appalled by the swift turn of events, Emma gathered herself to strike back at the spiteful man, fruitless as she knew it was; to argue with Graham, to remind him they didn't answer to Gold, nor have to do his bidding without real evidence, but it was as if she had suddenly gone silent and invisible, watching it all unfold around her. Fumbling without even looking, she gripped Killian's hand in her own, almost as if she intended to hold onto him so he couldn't be taken away.
And though Killian returned the pressure warmly, the rough calluses of his fingertips and palms somehow making her stomach flip when they brushed against her smooth skin, his eyes were grateful but resigned when she raised hers to meet his solemn stare. "It's alright, Swan," he murmured, so quietly she didn't think anyone else had even heard and making her heart rhythm stutter at the unexpectedly beautiful nickname. "I'll go with Sheriff Humbert."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his dark head minutely. "On this score at least, I've nothing to hide. And, at any rate, with whatever he has over you and your sheriff, my freedom isn't worth anyone's life." He stepped forward, offering his wrists for Graham to cuff.
Graham, for his part, looked ashamed, clearly reluctant to take this man in on no grounds whatsoever beyond a villain's word. "No need for that," he mumbled, barely meeting Jones' eyes, and both avoiding the gloating evident on Gold's vindictive face. With a mere firm hand on Jones' arm, the sheriff led the other man out of the diner to his waiting squad car.
Gold exited as well, watching with the satisfied air of one whose job is done, then he bowed to Emma like some magnanimous ruler and turned to leave, heading back up the street to his shop.
Henry was pulling her arm before the chime on the door at their backs had ceased its ringing. "He can't just do that, can he? Not here in the real world! We've got to help Killian!"
Emma quickly gathered Henry close to her, delving her hand into his soft hair and holding his body tight to her own for fear he might run after the Dark One in childish haste and fiery need to right all wrongs he saw.
She didn't know what she was going to do just yet, but she would get to the bottom of this. Of that she had no doubt.