Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and any unrecognizable characters and dialogue.
So, I've been asked how far I plan to take this story. As of right now, I actually have outlines for all the way up to the last episode of the first half of season 5. I'm changing some things, killing off people who sorta, might, just kinda deserve it... and other such details. You'll just have to wait and see, my dears.
Also, this chapter is 14 and a half thousand words and I didn't include every freaking scene from the episode... man my fingers hurt.
Chapter playlist: 'A Quarter Quell' from 'The Hunger Games: Catching Fire OST'
Enchanted Forest
Standing as far away from Hook as was physically possible, Lillian gazed up with the rest of them. The beanstalk was much larger in person than she'd ever have thought, twisting its way into the sky, all the way into the clouds. While everyone wore expressions with varying degrees of surprise, none looked more awed than the blonde.
Stomach turning at the sheer magnitude of what she was seeing, Emma forced herself to breathe past the slight, hysterical panic she could feel coming. "It's a little freakier than I remember from the story."
"Reminds me of death."
Mary Margaret threw Mulan a flat look, but didn't look surprised in the slightest. "Encouraging."
"Well, your compass awaits." Hook didn't wait for an answer, too tightly wound to do so. "Shall we?"
Emma, however, wasn't having it. "Wait." She glanced between the bean stalk and the dark-haired man as they walked down the small slope toward their destination. "If these beans create… portals, why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?"
He looked at her as if she were a simpleton. "Because there aren't any more beans," the group separated at a large bush, Lillian and Mary Margaret walking behind him. "Whatever story you think you know, my dear, is most certainly wrong."
"There was a guy named Jack, and a cow, and something about evil giant with a treasure and a golden goose." At the blank looks she was receiving from more than half of their little rag-tag group, her amused snark began to fade. "…Or harp."
"Sounds like a lovely tale," Hook's voice washed over her, dripping with amusement, and Emma turned to glare at his mocking tone. "But the truth's a little bit more gruesome." He weaved the tale, still smirking faintly. "The giants grew the beans, but, rather than use them for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. Jack, was a man who fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The beans were destroyed by the giants as they died. If they couldn't have their magic, then nobody could." He smirked wryly. "It's really very bad form."
"And you would know all about 'bad form', Captain," Lillian muttered viciously, drawing Hook's eye.
All watched, scarcely daring to breath, as the tension that had been crackling between the two suddenly boiled over.
"Why don't you just say what's on your mind, lass, for all our sakes?" Hook immediately regretted his words when pain, raw and devastating, flashed across Lily's features before they became carefully blank.
Taking a step forward, Lillian shrugged off Mary Margaret's restraining hand until she was toe to toe with the pirate. Her eyes had remained, curiously, their natural color despite the anger and rage and pain Hook could see lurking within the darkened depths.
"Alright," the low, hushed whisper, voice thickened by the pain that colored her eyes, stung more than if she'd started screaming. "Just tell me why," she took another step then, forcing Hook back.
"Lillian -"
"Why," she punctuated the word with a shove, incensed even further when Hook took the abuse. "Did. You. Leave. Us." A shove followed each biting word, and she ignored the distress that shone clearly in his eyes, too lost on her own to care. "For all your words, all your claims to care, you left us!"
Lillian ignored the calls of the others, their shock and bewilderment as, when he still refused to answer, her fist made contact with his scruffy cheek. Head snapping to the side, Hook raised his still bound wrists, touching his throbbing cheek with his remaining hand. Turning back to Lillian, his mouth tightened at the tears that made her eyes overly bright.
"I don't even care that you left me! How could you leave Bae?!" She all but screamed, her words echoing through the suddenly still air. Hands raised to shove him once more, she surprised them all by gripping hold of his threadbare tunic until her knuckles went white. "How could you leave him there, with him!? WHY?"
When she made to shake him, or set him on fire, he couldn't be sure, Hook swiftly moved. Raising his arms, he slipped them over her head, the action prompting cries of protest from their companions. Hand on the hilt of her sword, Mulan was prepared to take off the man's head before she truly took in the scene before her.
Despite the rope that bound his wrists together, he managed to press his good hand against the small of her shaking back. Lillian allowed it, head pressed into the curve of his neck, and he felt the hot press of tears as they slid silently down her cheeks. If he could have, he would have soothed her somehow, much like he had when reality became too much for her and she came to seek solace on the open sea. He could feel the gaping stares of the other women, knew that they probably assumed what they were seeing was worse than it was, but couldn't bring himself to care.
His crew had on more than one occasion called his relationship with the sorceress into question, their closeness, but he'd never seen fit to explain it to them. To him, and to her, they had found a kindred spirit, someone to share their pain and loneliness with when it all became too much. And rum, of course. Pan had never seemed threatened by his Tiger Lily's dependency on Killian, and the boy had been one of the most jealous and possessive creatures Hook had come across in all his years.
"Shh," he hushed instead, words stirring the loose curls. "It's alright, lass," it wasn't, not really, and they both knew it. He had left them, and while she'd claimed to be more angered by his abandoning Baelfire, he knew he'd hurt her far more than he had the child of his long dead lover.
Releasing a long, shuddering sigh, Lillian didn't even bother to pull out of his arms before purple smoke enveloped her trembling form. Hook watched, misty-eyed, as she whisked herself away from them, arms falling uselessly down as the smoke cleared.
The silence rose, thick in the air, and Emma turned to Mary Margaret, only to see the dark-haired woman staring at Hook, looking as bewildered as she felt. However, she did not see the dawning realization in her mother's eyes. For her part, the princess turned schoolteacher was slowly beginning to put the pieces together, mildly disturbed by the picture that was being formed in her mind.
If she's Tiger Lily… then her Peter was… Peter Pan? While she'd been unaware of the story of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys in the Enchanted Forest, Mary Margaret Blanchard had memories of reading the story in grade school, of watching the animated movie. It was, unsurprisingly, difficult to find any similarities to her spirited, fiery sorceress friend, and the taciturn, silent Native American princess that had been portrayed in the story.
As every stared at the pirate, who was looking down, most of his expression hidden from their view. His remaining hand tightened into a fist briefly, before he relaxed, raising his head to meet Emma's slightly awed one. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, to demand to know what the hell was going on, but the expression on Hook's face silenced every word before they could form on her lips.
"So," she cleared her throat, ignoring the expressions of disbelief she was receiving from the other woman, Mary Margaret in particular. "You said something about evil giants, who made magic portal beans?" So brief she was half convinced she'd imagined it, relief and gratitude swept over his features. "Why doesn't anyone just go up and grow some more?"
Easily spotting out what the blonde woman was doing, though he made no mention of it, or reacted, the pirate merely smirked instead. "Because one giant survived. The strongest and most terrible of them all. And we'll have to get past him to- "
Mary Margaret sent her disbelieving daughter a resigned smile. "- The magic compass."
"Indeed," he spared her a curt nod of the head. "The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass." He raised his still bound wrists to point in Emma's direction. "Now it will guide us to your land. Cora has the means to open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass. Once we get it, we use the ashes young Lilith took," the barest hints of a grimace flared across his lips because, "and we're on our way."
Throughout his explanation, no matter how much he filled it with smiles and charm, the four remaining woman exchanged doubtful looks.
"How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?" Mulan asked, summing up the thoughts of the other three women.
The disarming smile faded from his lips, and a more somber expression took its place. "Because you five are far safer company. All I need is a ride back," he pointed out, "I'll swear allegiance to whomever gets me there first."
"Then we'd better start climbing." Grim expression firmly in place, the blonde made to stalk toward the beanstalk, only for Hook's words to halt her.
"Right," an uneasy chuckle escaped his lips, smile back in place, "so… I failed to mention that the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders."
"Alright, so how do we get up there?"
"Well, I've got a counter spell from Cora." He raised his still bound wrists pointedly. "If you'd be so kind."
Stalking toward him, stone-faced and grim, Mary Margaret gripped the rope binding him captive. Without taking her eyes off his own, she briskly, and none too gently, removed the bindings that tied his wrists together. As the ropes came undone, he leaned down to her eye level, charming smile once more in place.
"Thank you, milady," he winked for good measure, delighting in the absolute annoyance that flared up in her eyes. He began to shed the roughspun layers he'd worn while under the guise of a blacksmith, revealing several layers of black, including a leather vest, as Mary Margaret turned and accepted her bow from Emma, expression decidedly irritated.
Raising his hand, he tapped on a black cuff with the metal that covered his stump with a resounding clang. The bracelet glowed briefly, a pale flicker of yellow. "I've got one more of these, Cora was to accompany me." Another smirk grew, one that made each of them roll their eyes or bristle, at least in Aurora's case. "So… which one of you four lovelies shall take her place? Hm?" He was grinning now, all traces of his earlier sadness hidden beneath a cheeky veneer. "Go on, fight it out." He encouraged as they all eyed him with disgust. "Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it."
She'd dissolved into tears before the spell had completely taken her away, and was now stumbling roughly onto her knees as she collapsed. Tears scouring down her face, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a vain effort to keep her insides from pouring out onto the expensive marble beneath. Whisking herself away to Rumple's castle, somewhere that had only been her home once, though she'd stayed for only a brief few months as she and her mentor frantically worked their hardest to make the Curse happen.
Her return had been bittersweet, dampened heavily by the fact that it had meant her separation from Peter. She'd barely paid attention to the new additions - namely the library he'd had built for Belle - and scarcely recognized it, even now. It was evident that those who had been left behind by the curse had ransacked the place for any valuables. Thankfully, Rumple had placed blood wards on anything of true value, and her own personal wing was sealed off, much like his own.
Shakily making her way to her feet, she forced herself to follow the familiar winding paths, mindful of the fact that there were other people within the sprawling halls. She didn't know, or truly care, of the people currently staying in the home she'd practically grown up in, and couldn't even summon the guilt she knew she should feel for it. The doorway materialized with touch of her hand on the wood, the warm pulse of magic soothing her, if only a little.
Her rooms were untouched, and she made a beeline for the bedroom. A thick layer of dust covered every inch, and her eyes fell onto a small bag that she'd carried around constantly before her time on Neverland. The bag, practically bottomless, flew into her hands with a mere blink of her eyes, and she upturned the contents on the nearest table without a thought.
Trinkets tumbled out, clattering on the wood, and she shifted through them. Her fingers, still trembling, tightly gripped onto the soft, ratted feather, black as a raven's wing. Or a crow. It hung on a leather cord, strung with beads, and she held back another shuddering sob when her fingers reverently ran along the long disused feather that had once adorned her tangled curls.
She released a watery chuckle at the memory of how Felix had come to place the accessory in her hair, after she'd wound up almost burning all his hair off. Her nose still wrinkled at the remembered smell of burned hair, and of the surly look Felix had worn for weeks afterward. A glint caught her eye, and she turned toward the window, stomach twisting when she saw it.
Resting innocently, still within its velvet confines, the shafts of sunlight from the window reflecting off it, sat a crown. Her crown. Sighing, she set down the feather and approached the object, running her fingers over the rounded, arched edges of the silver. Her grandmother had gifted it to her that night of the ball to mark her third birthday, though it had been sold during one of her brother's attempts at holding onto their bankrupt manor after he'd gambled away all the money.
Which had been no small feat, considering father was a bloody Duke. Rumple had tracked down the bauble, with the aid of her grandmother, if he was to be believed, and had returned it on her sixteenth birthday. It shouldn't have surprised her that the Dark One had a vested interest in his assistant becoming the Queen of a kingdom, particularly one as rich in magic, even if it was light magic, as Corona.
Sighing, she shut the box, hiding the glittering reminder of her responsibilities within its velvet casings. Turning to sit on her bed, the thick layer of dust vanishing with a flick of her fingers, the unused bed creaking beneath her weight. Staring out the window, her mind ran over the conversation with Hook, in full view of the others. Groaning, she scrubbed at her face with her palms and fell back onto the velvet sheets. She'd need to do major damage control, but couldn't bring herself to make the effort right now.
A prickle of heat ran down her spine, making her sit up straight. Staring, wide-eyed, out the window, breath coming in low, harsh pants, she watched, enthralled as a shape formed on the window. The outline was familiar, almost as familiar as her own, and new tears threatened her sore eyes when forest green eyes seared into them.
"Peter?"
Before he'd even stepped into the room, she was on him, twining herself around him like a weed. His own arms wrapped tightly around her in return, supporting her weight, as if she weighed little more than a feather. Her face pressed into his neck, lips pressing against the expanse of pale flesh. He sighed, shivering lightly, as she pulled back enough to meet his eyes once more. The expression in her eyes made a growl leave his throat, before his lips found hers. The first touch of her lips, as soft and welcoming as he remembered, sent a jolt of passion through him, and he hauled her even closer.
He brushed his tongue along the seam of her mouth, swallowing the little gasp she released in response. He pressed closer, diving into the welcoming heat of her mouth, drawing a low moan from them both. It had been so long… so long since he had touched her, felt her, tasted her, that he was losing himself in his need to do just that. However, there were more pressing needs that had to be addressed.
"Love… " she made a noise of protest when he tipped his head back, making as if she would follow his lips with her own. "Lily, wait," her eyes, glazed with passion, clashed with his own, and he released a breath, smiling despite himself.
She eyed him, awareness coming back to her, and he watched the realization when it dawned on her.
"You're not really here." She made to step back, but he held fast. She could feel flesh beneath her fingers, the rough material of his tunic, and felt his breath against her skin with every exhale. But something was off… wrong.
He nodded once, looking none too pleased by the fact. "I cannot stay long; nor can I bring you home with me," he missed the flicker in her eyes at his wording, speaking as quickly as he could. They didn't have much time, after all. "Lily," his fingers affixed on either side of her face, making sure her eyes met his. "You'll be home soon. I promise." There was a flicker of a smirk on his thin lips. "You're mine, and I am yours, remember?"
Her fingers gripped his hands, as if to prolong the contact of skin of skin. "Why can't you bring me now?" Something niggled at the back of her mind, and when a dark expression overtook his face, something clicked in her mind. "Your magic… the hourglass. It's -" Her voice rose with panic, the emotion causing her grip on him to tighten. "I -"
He cut her off with a kiss, one that she felt all the way to her toes. As a moan welled up in her chest, his tongue once more licking its way into her mouth, something within her shoved the truth of the scene into startling clarity just as he pulled back, fingertips stroking along her stricken features -
Lillian jerked upright with a ragged cry, rapidly looking around the surroundings of her room in Rumple's castle. The sun still hung high in the sky, with barely a difference in its height from her last glance. Pressing trembling fingers to her bruised, swollen lips, she closed her eyes tightly. A dream… just a dream. But the raw agony in Peter's eyes hadn't been brought up by her own subconscious. The hourglass was running out. And that means….
Peter was dying.
Portland
Looking round for any witnesses, Emma continued to approach the yellow beetle parked on the side road as casually as she could manage. Finding no one, she produced a wench, expertly unlocking the car. After settling herself inside the car, she pocketed the wench and grabbed a screwdriver next, sticking it into the transmission and starting the car. Smiling when it started like a charm, she drove off, only to nearly have a heart attack when a voice, lazy with sleep, came from the back seat.
"Impressive," her startled eyes, wide behind the black framed glasses, met his in the rear view mirror as he sat up. "But really, you could've just asked me for the keys," he held up said keys for emphasis, smiling when the car jolted. "Just drive. It's fine."
She stared at the dark-haired man like he was nuts. "I just stole your car," she reminded him, unnecessarily in his opinion. "Your life could be in danger."
"Neal Cassidy."
"Yeah, I'm not telling you my name."
"No, I don't need it to have you arrested when the robbery's in progress." He reminded her, smiling when he caught the stare she gave him.
Quickly weighing the pros and cons, and silently admitting to herself that he was right, she found herself saying, "Emma. Swan."
He nodded. "Good name."
"So," she began casually, as if she wasn't stealing his car, as if he wasn't seemingly perfectly fine with it. "Do you just live in here, or are you just waiting for the car to be stolen?"
"Why don't I tell you over drinks?"
"Excuse me?" She demanded, so startled that she swung her head back around to meet his gaze.
"Hey," he pointed toward the front of the car. "Eyes on the road."
Neither of them barely noticed when the bug sped right through the stop sign, too involved in the other, as Emma obediently turned back to watch the road. "I am not having drinks with you." She declined flatly, "you might be a pervert."
"I might be a pervert, but you're definitely a car thief." He returned smoothly, with that same easy smile on his face.
"I said I was sorry."
"You didn't, actually."
Before she could offer a reply, the shrill sound of a police siren made them both jump. Eyes frantically darting around, she winced when the tell-tall red and blue lights flashed behind them.
Neal's head whipped around. "Oh…."
"Damn it." Emma muttered as a response, looking fairly put-out.
He didn't bother to conceal his eye roll. "That's why I said 'eyes on the road'." The girl obediently pulled over, and as they awaited the cop, his eyes fell onto the screwdriver still in the transmission. "Screwdriver," he muttered, reacting before Emma had a chance to. Yanking the tool out, he replaced it with the keys mere moments before the cop approached the window Emma rapidly rolled down.
"License and registration."
"Hi."
Holding back his snicker at her meek tone, Neal smiled instead at the officer. "Terribly sorry officer, but this is actually my car. I'm… I'm trying to, uh, teach my girlfriend how to drive stick."
The cop frowned. "She's got a lot to learn."
"I know." He lowered his voice, ignoring the look of outrage the blonde threw him for his words. "But, you know… women."
To Emma's surprise, the ghost of a smile appeared on the cop's lips before he nodded. "Alright, I hear you." A stern expression formed once more. "It's a warning…this time."
"Yeah," Neal smiled, every bit the contrite boyfriend. "Thank you so much."
With a tip of his hat, the cop turned and headed back to his own vehicle. The moment the man cleared the car, Neal maneuvered his way into the passenger seat, with Emma staring in mild disgust.
"What are you, some sort of a misogynist?"
"You're welcome." He waited till the cop car drove past them before encouraging, "Oh, go." Relief colored his words. "We got lucky."
Emma blinked behind her glasses. "We?" She repeated, and he smiled, waiting for her to figure it out. "This isn't your car either, is it? I stole a stolen car?"
Neal smiled wider at the disbelief in her words. "Now, how about that drink?"
Enchanted Forest
"All due respect," Mulan began, with a note of finality in her words. "I'm the best equipped to go." She cast a searching glance toward Snow, "How many wars have you been through?
The other woman's voice was flinty. "My share."
"It should be me." Too her credit, Aurora did not falter when every eye, including Hook's, turned to her in disbelief.
Mulan was staring at the princess as if she'd gone mad. "You?" She repeated flatly. "You haven't fought in a battle."
"This is about us getting home to our loved ones." Mary Margaret pointed out, "Why would you- "
"Because I have no loved ones." The incredulous expressions faded at that, an awkward tension filling the air. "If I fail, you can still go on."
Shaking her head, Emma spoke up. "It's me. I'm going, and I'm not going to fail."
"You're new here."
"It's about getting back to Henry," the blonde said calmly over her mother, who blinked, lips twitching. "I don't care what I have to face." Bracing herself for the argument that was sure to follow, the dark-haired woman surprised her by merely smiling in what Emma could only describe as an understanding, indulgent manner. "You're not going to argue with me?"
"Would it do any good?"
"No," Emma replied honestly, lips quirking faintly. Turning to Mulan, who was frowning, she asked, "Anything in that bag that's going to help me with a giant?"
The warrior reached into the satchel they'd taken from Hook, frown deepening when her gloved closed around the hook Snow had produced from it earlier. "A hook?" She offered, earning a protest from Hook.
"Hey!"
Ignoring him, Mulan gestured for Emma to follow her. "Come with me," after they'd gone out of earshot of the others, the warrior pulled a small cloth satchel from the bag, handing it over to Emma. "This - powder made from poppies," she explained urgently, to Emma's dawning understanding. "He has to inhale it."
"And your sword – how strong is it?"
"The most powerful blade in all the realms."
"Is it strong enough to cut through that beanstalk?"
Mulan blinked slowly at her, easily grasping where the blonde was going. "Indeed."
"Give me ten hours," Emma whispered, mindful of their already dwindling amount of time. "If I'm not back, you cut it down and keep going."
"Snow won't like that."
"That's why I'm asking you." She pointed out delicately, mindful of the position she was asking the other woman to put herself in. "If I don't get back, you get her home."
Weary of their whispers, no doubt plotting against him should he hint at betrayal, Hook raised his voice. "Ladies," they all turned, various degrees of irritation on their features. "In this world, we are slaves to time, and ours is running out." He couldn't stop the smirk from crawling up his cheek. "In other words, tick tock." The smirk only grew when Emma heaved a long-suffering sigh and stalked forward, joining him next to the base. "I was hoping it'd be you."
"Just get on with it," she muttered, uncomfortable with his blatant flirting.
He tapped his shoulder with his good hand. "Put your hand right here," when she did as bade, he obligingly snapped the second cuff to her wrist. "That's a good girl." He paid no mind to the dark look she slanted him, pulling away as if burned. "This will allow you to climb, but there are other dangers. Thankfully, you've got me to protect you." He raised his stump, eyebrow arched playfully. "I can't climb one-handed, can I?"
"Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second," she muttered as she handed him his hook.
Fitting it onto the metal that topped his stump, her smiled back easily. "I would despair if you did."
"Let's go."
With a last look at their companions, minus Lillian, Emma and Hook turned to the beanstalk and began to climb. After what felt like hours, given how much her limbs were beginning to ache and shake, and how much her chest was beginning to burn from the effort of each sawing breath, Hook began to speak.
"First beanstalk? Well, you never forget your first." Other than to send him a scathing glare, the blonde said nothing, clearly devoting her attention to the beanstalk before them. "You know, most men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge."
"I'm concentrating."
He held back a chuckle, unwilling to waste the much needed breath, at her flippant response. "No, you're afraid." He said instead. "Afraid to talk – to reveal yourself. Trust me – things'll be a lot smoother if you do."
"You should be used to people not trusting you." She pointed out, giving him a once over that made him smile, the despite the lack of amorous intent behind it.
"Ah, the pirate thing. Well, I don't need you to share. You're something of an open book.
"Am I?"
Wind whipping through his hair, he leveled a knowing look at the blonde. "Quite. Let's see – you volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated. You need to get back to a child."
"That's not perception," unimpressed, she held back the urge to roll her eyes and focused on climbing. "That's eavesdropping."
"Ah, but you don't want to abandon him the way you were abandoned."
Taken aback, though unwilling to let it show, she merely stared back. "Was I?"
"Like I said," he uttered past the faint grunts as they heaved themselves further up the beanstalk. "An open book."
"How would you know that?" She asked, curious despite herself.
"I spent many years in Neverland – home of the Lost Boys." With Peter Pan and his Princess. "They all share the same look in their eyes… the look you get when you've been left alone."
Emma arched a brow. "That include Lillian?" He didn't reply, not even to snark, and she silently resolved to get to the bottom of that story. "Well, anyway, my world ain't Neverland."
"But an orphan's an orphan," he pointed out quietly, looking far more somber than she'd yet to see. "Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it? You ever even been in love?"
She stared at him, eying him silently, for so long that he assumed she'd chosen to remain silent once more. "No," she whispered finally, her words almost overtaken by the wind. "I have never been in love."
Portland
Happy that their con had gone off without a hitch despite almost getting caught, they basked in the spoils as Neal pulled into the motel parking lot. They waited anxiously, smiling to each other, as they watched a family pile into a car and drive off. Quickly jumping out of the bug, they walked quickly to the motel room, thankful that the door was unlocked.
"Twenty minutes till housekeeping," Neal muttered as they slipped into the room. As they settled in the room, "You want to shower first?" He asked, turning when she didn't respond right away.
"Oh, look," she plucked an odd object, made of twine and sticks, feathers and beads, off the bed. "The granola family left this."
"What is that?" He must have stared at it too long, swallowing past the lump in his throat at the sight of the black, beaded feathers, lost in memories of laughing blue eyes and dark, twisted curls, the feeling of safety in hell, as Emma sent his a strange look.
"It's a Native American dream catcher," she explained, not quite able to believe he'd never heard of one. "It's supposed to keep all the nightmares out, and only let the good dreams in to protect your home."
Neal raised a brow. "It's flypaper for nightmares?"
"Mhmm."
"Let's keep it."
Emma smiled, leaning closer. "Yeah, hang it where?" She asked, teasing and familiar. "The car?"
"It's not much of a home." Silently inhaling, he breathed, "Maybe it's time we get a real place."
Emma pulled back, blinking slowly at him. "Are you saying…?"
"Why not? We've been on the road long enough, baby." He slung his arms loosely around her waist. "It's time we retire the Bonnie and Clyde act. So, I think… I think it's time."
"Together?" She asked, and he raised a brow at the doubt in her tone.
"Don't you want to?"
"Like where? Neverland?"
He held back the urge to snort/shiver at her flippant words. "I'm serious. We could do this."
"Where?"
He pulled away, taking the framed map of the US off the dresser, and laid it on the bed in front of her. "Where?" He gestured, smiling at the faint, yet growing, excitement he could see in her eyes. "I'll tell you where. Close your eyes and point. Whatever spot you pick, that's our home."
Smiling back now, she turned and closed her eyes, pointing blindly at a spot. Eyes opening, she exhaled gently, reading the name of the city she'd pointed to. "Tallahassee."
"We got a winner."
"Is it near a beach?"
He smiled at her childish enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's Florida," he teased. "Everything's near a beach."
"Okay then," she turned, arms going around him as his own wound about her. "Tallahassee it is."
"Tallahassee it is." He repeated.
Struck by sudden apprehension, she pulled her head back enough to look him in the eye. "Are you sure? Is this… what you really want?"
Neal merely drew her back in, pressing his forehead to her own. "What I really want, is you." He whispered against her lips before pressing his against them.
Enchanted Forest
Grabbing hold of a nearby stick, Mulan began to trace it along the dirt beneath them. Making the straight lines of the makeshift sundial, she was aware of both Aurora and Snow as they stared, obviously puzzled.
"What is that?"
She didn't look up, intent on finishing. "It keeps the time." Done, she drove the stick into the ground in the middle of the longest line.
"You have somewhere to be?" Mary Margaret asked carefully, eying the other woman oddly.
"We can mark watches – take turns sleeping," Mulan explained shortly. "We'll most likely have to walk through the night again, so we should rest while we can."
Mary Margaret sighed. "I'll take first shift."
Aurora spoke up, making her companions both turn to her curiously. "I'll stay up with you."
"Okay."
Waiting silently for Mulan to walk out of earshot, more than likely to eat and sleep, Snow spoke to the brown-haired woman, brow creased with concern. "When was the last time you slept?"
Despite the gentleness in her words, the worry shining in her eyes, Aurora still flinched as if struck. "I don't really sleep now," she whispered, looking down. "Not after what I've been through."
Snow was nodding as they both watched Mulan lay down, head pillowed on a satchel. "Sleeping curse."
"The one time I did sleep, I had horrible nightmares." In a way, it was a relief to speak of what had happened to her, of the years and years she'd been asleep.
"It's a side effect," Snow's eyes had gentled with sympathy. "Same thing happened to me."
"It did?"
"I had them for months. Charming – my husband – he used to wake me." Aurora watched her avidly, noting the faraway look that entered her eyes as she spoke, the fond and loving smile on her lips. "When I cried out, he'd light a candle. He said it would capture the nightmares. He'd watch over me as I fell back to sleep."
Aurora smiled a little hesitantly. "Sounds like he lives up to his name."
Snow returned the expression. "Yeah. Um… why don't you try… to sleep?" She offered quietly, gesturing to the side of her leg pointedly. "I'll watch over you. You'll be safe."
Tears suddenly stinging her eyes, the younger woman nodded once, "Thank you," she whispered in return, going to rest near Mulan.
As the younger woman walked away, Mary Margaret turned her attention to the sundial Mulan had crafted, eyes unable to resist looking at the beanstalk Emma and Hook had climbed. Her mind then turned to Lillian, who had yet to return after taking herself away, easily immersing herself in her magic as she had all those years ago.
Now that the wind had stopped, there was nothing to cover their gasps and pants as each desperately fought for air. Limbs aching, Emma almost fell down onto the stone floor, legs like jelly, and watched as Hook fared little better. Sweat made his short hair cling to his forehead, and she wished she had something to tie her own back, as the blonde strands clung to her damp skin.
Briefly sharing a triumphant glance, they jumped off the lip of the small rounded ledge that encircled the beanstalk, legs trembling at the shock. Looking around, her eyes widened at the sight of the large - even larger than her parent's - castle that had obviously fallen into ruin.
"What happened here?" She managed once it stopped hurting to breathe.
"It's where the final battle was," he briefly explained, his own heart beating fiercely against his ribs, focused on far more pressing matters than a scenic tour. "Give me your hand."
"What?"
"Your hand – it's cut." He held out his own. "Let me help you."
Emma drew back a step, then squared her shoulders when she realized what she'd done. "No, no. It's fine."
"No, it's not." He shot back, crowding in.
Emma: So, now you're going to be a gentleman?
Hook gently grabbed her unresistant hand, hooking his hook around her wrist to keep her in place. "Giants can smell blood," he informed her, shooting her a smoldering stare through half-lidded eyes while he was at it. "And I'm always a gentleman." Reaching into the inner pockets of his vest, he produced a flask, yanking the cork out with his teeth.
Upturning the contents, and inwardly mourning the waste of rum, he held back a chuckle when Emma cringed in pain. "Ah! Ow!" Her teeth clenched tightly, and she all but bared them at him as he re-pocketed the now empty flask. "What the hell is that?"
"It's rum," he answered, pulling the scarf wrapped round his neck over his head. "A bloody waste of it." After carefully beginning to wrap her hand, he began to outline their course of action. "Now, here's the plan – we wait for the giant to fall asleep. And when he does, we'll sneak past him into his cave. It's where the treasures are – where the compass lies."
"And then?"
"And then we run like hell."
Emma stared back, unimpressed. "I don't have time to wait for a giant to fall asleep. The powder Mulan gave us – we need to use it. We got to knock him out."
"Well, that's riskier."
"Than waiting for a giant to fall asleep when we need him to?"
"Point taken," he conceded, suddenly smirking widely. "Ooh, you're a tough lass," he praised, producing the cloth bag of poppy dust from his satchel while Emma rolled her eyes. "You'd make a hell of a pirate."
"Who's Milah on the tattoo?" She asked, eyes drawn to the elegant scrawl that adorned the underside of his wrist, ignoring the pouch he'd placed near her face.
He looked away, hand falling away from her. "Someone from long ago."
Emma ignored the warning hidden in his low tones. "Where is she?"
"She's gone." He said, side-stepping her to begin their trek toward the castle gates.
Brow creased thoughtfully, she mulled over the details in her mind, quickly coming to an understanding. "Gold - Rumpelstiltskin." She whispered, making him scowl darkly and pause as she turned toward him. "He took more than your hand from you, didn't he?" He turned to face her, expression black. "That's why you want to kill him."
"For someone who's never been in love, you're quite perceptive, aren't you?" He asked, evading her question, and making her uncomfortable and on edge all in the same breath.
"Maybe I was, once."
Neverland
The force of the magical backlash knocked him backwards. Shaking and sick, Peter lay on the ground, forcing himself to breath deeply as his weakening and volatile magic slowly began to calm and settle. The Shadow fluttered above, useless and watching, as he attempted to reassert his control over his rapidly weakening hold on the magic the island gifted him with. The centuries had flown by, not nearly as many as people thought, and he could only plot and scheme and give orders, waiting on others to see them through.
He disliked not being able to enter Storybrooke, stealing away both the boy and Lily, now that magic had been brought to the town. However, he was forced to put his trust in others, with both threats and lies, to see what he wanted done.
He slammed a fist against the ground, not caring when it throbbed in response to the sharp stone that split his knuckles. Deciding that he'd calmed down enough for movement to not send him into another fit, he shakily rose to his hands and knees, raising his head to meet the yellow eyes of his Shadow when it flitted closer.
"Watch over her, protect her," he ordered breathlessly, unable to stop the fierce rhythm of his weakening heart as it beat within his chest. Soon it would be gone, and he'd desperately need the Heart of the Truest Believer, or he would die.
As the shaking in his limbs began to subside, he began to try and climb to his feet, only for the previously subdued nausea to come back with a vengeance. His stomach twisted and flipped, back arching as he heaved what little was in his stomach onto the ground. As he coughed up little more than spittle, dry heaves wracking his body, skin flushed and clammy, he heard the soft tread of boots across the ground.
"Enjoying the show, Tink?" After pausing long enough to make sure the sickness had passed, he drew a trembling hand across his mouth. Grimacing slightly at the sweat that dotted his pasty skin, he forced his aching, throbbing muscles to move.
Tinker Bell stood several feet away, arching a quizzical brow, and made no move to help him as he unsteadily made his way to his feet. While he had no true qualms with the former fairy turned scavenger, other than her attempts to separate him from Lily, he didn't enjoy her seeing him like this. He'd managed to keep it from the boys, but for a select few he trusted completely.
"What's happening to you?" She wondered, head tilted. His stare was mild for several heartbeats, and she refused to fidget beneath his scrutiny. Silently mulling over to tell her a variation of the truth, he merely smiled in a disarming manner.
"Just a bit of magic gone awry, Tink." He ignored her disbelieving scoff. "Nothing to worry about."
She shifted, years of scavenging making her uneasy to stay this long out in the open. Color had begun to return to his previously sallow features, though he was still as pale as ever, and the faint trembling she'd seen in his limbs had begun to cease. However, he'd begun to glower at her, something that she knew meant he was rapidly losing his patience with the current situation.
While he wore a pleasant facade, was able to charm and beguile those who had never seen his true nature, she'd seen the darkness lurking underneath. While she'd never been on the receiving end of it, she'd seen what had happened to those that displeased him, and it made a shiver run up her spine. Without a word, she darted back into the trees, leaving the lost boy by himself.
Moments after Tinker Bell had disappeared, he crumpled to the ground in a heap, painful tremors once more wracking his body so fiercely, his fingers scored the ground likes claws.
Portland
Smiling widely, Emma turned at the sound of footsteps, raising a brown paper bag high for Neal to see. "I got doughnuts. I got jelly." She lightly shook the bag for emphasis, frowning faintly when he didn't respond how she'd hoped. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"No, no," she gripped his limp arms, gently urging him to look at her. "Hey. What's wrong?"
"This was on the wall at the post office," he unfolded the paper she'd missed him holding, holding it out to her. The 'wanted' poster stared up at her, and she raised bewildered eyes to meet the regret in his own. "I didn't even know they did that still," he echoed her thoughts, looking down now.
Emma stared down at the poster, looking up, eyes puzzled and wide. "When did this happen?"
"I was a janitor in Phoenix – this high-end jewelry place." The story seemed to stick in his throat. "The manager was a drunk. He would forget to lock the case to the expensive watches."
"Neal…."
"I resisted – twice!" He said at the stern look in her eye. "The third time, this guy's just asking to get robbed. So I… I grabbed a couple cases of watches, and I hopped on a train to Portland," he explained quietly. "The store's got insurance. Anyway, I stashed 'em in a locker at the train station. They're still there. It's not… it's hardly stealing."
"So, you got away clean."
Her hopes died when he shook his head. "I didn't get away clean. The manager may have been a drunk, but the security cameras are stone sober. I thought this heat had died down, but it hasn't." Her fingers tightened on the wanted poster, crumpling it. "I'm sorry, Tallahassee's out. I got to go to Canada."
She merely smiled, rubbing her hands along his arms. "That's fine. I like maple syrup."
"I got to go to Canada alone."
Heart sinking, Emma managed to make her suddenly numb lips form one word. "Why?"
"If I get caught and you're with me, you're in trouble- "
"You're not going to get caught."
Neal's brow creased in fond exasperation. "How can you say that? You think crossing the border's easy?"
"We get fake IDs and passports."
"Those cost money," he retorted. "We have a stolen car."
Emma, however, refused to give up so easily. "We make it legit. We take a VIN number off of another car."
"Emma, I'm not going to have you in the seat next to me with twenty thousand- "
Struck by a sudden fit of verifiable genius, in her opinion, she quickly spoke over him. "Wait, wait! Seriously, wait, wait, wait!" He fell silent, eying her with an eyebrow quirked. "What if I go and get the watches out of the locker? No one's looking for me. We can… we can fence them, and then we have the money." Smiling broadly, she continued, as Neal stared, quiet disbelief in his eyes. "We can do whatever we want. We can go wherever we want, right? We could change our identities and go to Tallahassee."
"So you… you want to steal the watches, to help me with get away with stealing the watches?" He clarified, brow creased deeply.
"Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "That is exactly what I want to do."
"I can't let you risk everything- "
"I love you." She rushed out, feeling as if she would burst if she didn't say the words.
Neal stared at her for several heartbeats, long enough for panic to swell within her chest, before a faint smile broke out on his face. "I love you, too," he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her parted lips. "You think you can do it?"
"I know I can."
Enchanted Forest
After helping Emma to clamber up a statue, Hook searched the ground for something suitable for making noise. Finally settling on a metal shield, he reached down to pluck up a long bone. "You ready?"
She nodded at his call, the bag of poppy powder in hand. "Yeah," she tensed. While the plan was insane, she only had a small time window to get get done what she needed to. It had already taken more than a couple of hours to climb the damn beanstalk, never mind that, if they managed to put the giant to sleep, it would take at least several hours to traipse about the huge castle, searching for the compass.
Eyes fixed on Hook, who, after receiving another nod from her, she watched as he began to beat the bone against the shield. The clanging sound echoed around the courtyard, making her want to flinch as it rang through her eardrums. A fierce roar pierced through the air, followed by a sudden quaking of the ground that had Emma grabbing hold of the statue to stay upright.
Her eyes widened when the giant stormed into the courtyard, far taller than the statue she was perched on. "Oh, damn it," she hissed out, stealing a glance at Hook as he began to yell out taunts.
"Hey! You big git!" The giant, wrapped in aged silks, face contorted into a deep snarl, focused completely on Hook. With another growling roar, it began to head for the pirate, who continued to goad it, backing toward the statue Emma was perched upon. "Yeah, you! Huh? You wanna kill a human?" His pace picked up, face twisted into a sneer as the rage on the giant's face grew with each passing word. "Well, I'm the worst human around. Come on," he passed the statue, though didn't take his eyes off the giant to make sure Emma was ready. "Come on, then! Come on, then!"
As the giant leaned down to grip Hook, clearly too enraged to ponder why the human had stopped, his face was level with Emma position. She flung the poppy powder into his face, and the effect was instantaneous. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, the giant fell to the ground in a heap. Instinctively jerking back as the ground shook from the force of the fall, Emma peered down, breath catching when she didn't see Hook.
"Hook?" She called, scrambling down the statue. "Hook!"
Before she could call for him again, he ducked out from behind the giant, smiling. "He's out cold," he rapidly crossed the space between them, smiling at the slight panic she couldn't quite hide. "I don't mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team."
She stared at him, scathing comment on the tip of her tongue. "Let's go steal a compass." She said instead, turning on her heel to enter the large gates of the castle. With a soft chuckle, Hook followed.
Mulan had napped briefly, and even though it was now her turn to sleep, Mary Margaret was still wide awake, and had taken to either restless pacing or staring up at the beanstalk. The warrior approached her sundial and knelt, heart sinking when she saw that almost ten hours had passed. Torn from her thoughts of Mary Margaret's likely reaction, she turned her head at the sound of soft gasping.
Aurora was sleeping, her head pillowed on her own arms, against a nearby log. Her sleep, it seemed, was anything less than pleasant, and as the princess began to thrash in her sleep, her cries becoming louder, Mary Margaret raced over just as Mulan rose to her feet.
"Hey," the dark-haired woman whispered, gently drawing Aurora from her nightmare just as the younger woman's cries turned to weak sobs. "Aurora?" She jerked away with a sharp cry, tears already spilling down her rapidly paling cheeks. "It was just a dream," Mary Margaret soothed when Aurora looked around wildly. "It was just a dream."
"It was horrible." She managed past the shallow wheezes escaping her lungs.
Mary Margaret lightly gripped her shoulders, "Why don't you tell me about it? Do you want to tell me about it?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead began to gently urge the princess to her feet. "Come on – let's stand." Mulan watched intently as Snow continued to encourage the shaken Aurora to speak. "Tell me."
"It was the same as last time," she grasped out, cheeks wet with tears. "I was in this room - this… this red room. It was bright, blood-red curtains." Snow nodded, lips parted as Aurora described the same place that had tormented her years ago. "There was no windows or doors, so it didn't make sense, and I couldn't get in or out. I was trapped." Snow's hand went up to play with her necklace as fresh tears spilled out of Aurora's eyes. "The curtains – they were on fire. It was horrible."
Mary Margaret moved before she even thought about it, hold gentle as she touched Aurora's arms. "It's okay." She soothed, gently stroking a hand along the side of the other woman's face.
Aurora seemed not to hear her, lost in the memories, gripping Mary Margaret in return. "I was hunched in a corner, and I looked over into the other corner, and in the shadows, there was someone else there." Surprise flickered across Mary Margaret's features. In all the months that her nightmares had lasted, she'd never once seen anyone else in that hellish realm. "I just see his eyes. He was looking right at me."
Mary Margaret's hand followed the same pattern, attempting to calm the younger princess, and her hand slipped to Aurora's cheek this time, the other hand rising, and she cupped the woman's face. "It's okay, it's over now." She promised as Aurora gripped her hands tightly, breath sawing painfully through her lungs with every exhale. "These nightmares… they will fade away. I promise."
"Did they for you?" She asked, so lost and so afraid that it made Mary Margaret's heart ache.
She smiled in response, the expression widening when Aurora's lips formed a trembling one. "Yeah," she began to tug the woman back to the fallen log. "Come on," she sat on the log. "Come on. I'll sit with you until you fall back asleep." She shrugged lightly at the bewildered expression on Aurora's tear-stained features, and the younger woman gave another shuddering sigh. "Who else do I have to take care of?"
Her lips shaped into a trembling smile before Aurora's face crumpled, new tears in her eyes. Nodding, breath still uneven and shallow, she approached Mary Margaret, kneeling at her side. She lightly placed her head on the older woman's thigh, eyes closing when Mary Margaret ran a hand along her soft brown hair, mindful of the pearl and jewel headpiece.
Looking up, Mary Margaret met Mulan's softened stare, smiling faintly as she continued to stroke Aurora's head, waiting until her uneven breaths had lengthened and deepened.
"Any sign of Lillian?" She whispered, unwilling to disturb her companion's much needed rest.
Mulan ruefully shook her head. "No."
"She can take care of herself - I shouldn't be worried."
"But you are."
Mary Margaret nodded, eyes briefly closing. When they opened, she had turned them to the beanstalk once more, desperately hoping that, like Lillian, her daughter was safe and would return soon.
Despite the stories she'd heard, all that encased the wealth of the giants while only focusing on the harp or goose, Emma couldn't stop her jaw from dropping when they entered what seemed to be a treasure room.
Hook: They hoarded all of their greatest stolen treasures in here. Piles of jewels, and every room filled with... coins." She turned at the wistful note in his voice and bristled at the sight of him running his fingers over a pile of said coins.
"Let's get to it." She snapped as he raised a coin to his face, sniffing it. "The compass."
He chuckled lowly. "What's your rush?"
Emma directed a flat stare his way. "How long do you think magic knockout powder lasts?"
"I have no clue." He refocused on the coin in his grasp.
"That's my rush."
Capitulating to her point, he nodded, pocketing the coin while he was at it. "Too right, lass. Come," he began to walk again, gesturing forward. "Everything we need is right in front of us."
Portland
Despite knowing how suspicious it appeared, she couldn't stop the nerves from setting in. Standing in front of the train station lockers, she surreptitiously glanced around from beneath her lashes, swallowing at the sight of two cops nearby, talking. However, she'd promised Neal that she'd do this, to hell with the tension that currently lanced through her.
Glancing once more at the number on the key, she scanned the locker numbers for the right one. Eyes settling on the right locker, she stepped forward as casually as she could, careful to not make it seemed forced. The key fit, and she cautiously pulled the door open, eyes alighting on the small bag within. The hand she extended was still, to her delight, and it remained that way as she tugged the bag out of the locker.
Without looking inside the bag, she turned on her heel, and didn't look in the direction of the cops either. She strode out of the station, unable to stop the smallest of grins from quirking up her lips.
Neal will be proud.
Enchanted Forest
"They kill all the giant housekeepers, too?" Emma snorted as they continued to slowly make their way through the giant mess of glittering objects. She'd seen more golden chalices than she could count. "How we going to find a compass in this mess?"
"By looking." She threw him an annoyed look for that. "Start searching. I wonder how much treasure we could carry down the beanstalk." He winced under the weight of her suddenly unforgiving glare. "…in addition to the compass, of course."
As they weaved through the room, both came to a sudden halt. Before them lay a skeleton, jaw gaping in a silent scream. A blade rested next to it, within inches of the skeletal fingers.
"What the hell?" Emma demanded, inwardly shaken by the sight. While she'd seen, and ignored, the bones that served as macabre lawn ornaments in the courtyard, this was something else entirely.
Hook tilted his head, studying the name 'Jack' etched into the blade. "That… would be Jack."
"As in Jack… "
"The giant killer."
She threw a doubtful eye to the thin, tarnished blade. "With that toothpick?"
Hook merely nodded. "Well, it packs quite a wallop," his lips quirked, "You'd be surprised." He made to take a step backwards, only for Emma to lunge forward.
"Whoa, whoa!" Grabbing his arms, she yanked, causing him to stumble into an embrace. "Woah!"
Hook smiled so widely she thought his face might split, pressing close enough that she could smell the scent of rum and leather. "It's about bloody time."
"It's a trip wire," she countered hotly as he made to return the embrace. He paused, following her line of sight, to see the faint gleam of said wire. "Quite the security system," both looked up to see a cage attached to the wire.
"Well, that's a plausible excuse for grabbing me," he turned back, charming smile back in place, though pulled back when her lips pursed. "But next time don't stand on ceremony." He reached out to smooth a strand of her hair, delighting at the displeasure in her eyes as she stiffened away from him. Oh yes, I'll enjoy breaking down this one's walls.
"Let's find the compass and go home." She said coolly, gesturing further into the treasure room. "After you."
Portland
Despite himself, he'd never felt such immense relief as when Emma came racing toward the car, bag in hand. After leaving one of the watches on her wrist, promising to meet her exactly at nine, he'd left the car in her capable hands to head for the fence.
Excitement still simmering in his veins, mixing with the pride and relief he felt for his blonde girlfriend, Neal continued down the darkened street, watches gripped tightly in one hand. It was easy for his ears to pick up the soft pad of footsteps, no matter how much his pursuer attempted to silence them. Keeping his calm gait for several minutes and, after coming to the realization that he was being stalked, he broke into a dead sprint.
Veering sharply, he ducked into an alley, the other person in hot pursuit. Leaping forward, he began to scale the fence, cursing when a hand roughly closed around the back of his jacket and yanked him down to the ground.
Breathless from the flight and failed escape attempt, Neal spun around, still on the ground, to smile disarmingly up at the taller man. "You got the wrong guy, officer! I wasn't even jaywalking!"
The dark-haired, bearded man merely cocked a brow, grim-faced and determined. "It's not like that. You want to protect Emma?" He backed away enough for the man on the ground to stand. "Come with me."
"What?"
"Get up."
Frowning, Neal cautiously pulled himself to his feet, the tricks and cruelties of Pan and the Lost Boys still too fresh in his mind. "How do you know Emma?"
"Name's August. And it's a long story, but trust me – you want to hear it."
"Alright, August," Neal sneered out the name. "If you're not a cop, who are you? You got two minutes." He had watches to fence, moeny to get, and a not so patient girlfriend waiting for him.
"Think of me as Emma's guardian angel."
"Guardian angel?" Neal repeated, not bothering to hide the scoff welling in his throat. "I'd say you've been doing a pretty crap job."
August continued as if he hadn't heard, easily hiding the guilt he felt. "I've been looking for her for the past two years. Now I finally find her, and she's robbing convenience stores with some deadbeat. Tell me again who's doing the crap job.
"Let me tell you something," the shorter man snarled, taking a step forward. "I'm the best thing that's ever happened to her. Two years? Where were you the rest of her life?" He demanded.
"I'm not perfect." August agreed, far too easily for Neal's liking. "This world? Full of temptations. Turns out I'm not that great at saying no, I'm not built that way. But, I'm here now."
"So, who are you?"
"We were in the same home as kids," August began, seeing no gain in outright lying to the man. "And I thought she'd be safe inside the system. But now that she's out?" He looked down, shaking his head ruefully. "Back then, I promised I would take care of her."
"Well, we promised to take care of each other." Neal snapped back, bristling at the arrogance of the man before him.
August eyed him shrewdly. "You love her - good. That means you have to do right by her."
"That's all I'm trying to do."
"Then leave her."
"Never."
"She has a destiny," August shot back, "and you? This life? You're going to keep her from it. Okay? You believe in magic?
"I take it you do." Neal surmised, smiling bemusedly.
"So will you. Trust me. I'm going to show you something… something that's going to make you look at everything differently." He explained, ignoring the doubt in the other man's eyes. "And, when you see what I have in here, you're going to listen," he turned to his motorcycle, beckoning Neal to follow. "You're going to believe every word I say."
Without another word, he reached for the box attached to the back of the vehicle, flipping the lid open.
"Yeah, right," he muttered lowly, lazily roving his eyes along the inside of the box. However, his heart skipped a beat before beating fiercely against his ribs. Raising his stunned eyes from the neatly typed words, he meet August's grave expression. "Okay, I'm listening."
Satisfied, August leaned back against his parked bike, arms crossed over his chest. "There's a curse… and it needs to be broken. Emma, is the key. I was tasked with keeping her on track and you, my friend, just got caught in the crossfire. Now, I'm going to tell you a story. And, at the end of it, you're going to have to make a decision. Will you do the right thing, or not? So… are you ready?"
"Damn right it's an error," Emma muttered as her phone once more claimed an 'out-of-service-error' when she tried to call Neal for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.
"Unless he set you up." Her head shot up from the small screen, eyes bulging when they fell on the gun pointed at her. "Hands above your head please, miss." The cop said calmly, approaching her in a slow, even manner.
Her fingers were numb on the plastic phone. "Wait, why?"
"Possession of stolen goods," he nodded at the watch Neal had fastened on her wrist. "Left you holding."
"I have nothing -"
"Sorry to tell you, but your boy took off. Probably in Canada by now." The cop informed her, showing no reaction when her face fell in disbelief. "He called in a tip – told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station. Give me the watch." His voice hardened when she didn't move, frozen in distress. "Now!" As she began to unfasten the claps with quivering fingers, the cop continued. "You know your rights?"
"Yeah." Dazed, she forced her limbs to work, to hand him the watch.
"Good girl. Turn around," the gun lowered as she did as told, eyes stinging with sudden tears. "Where's the rest of the watches?" The cold touch of the handcuffs made her flinch.
"They're gone," she whispered in reply, eyes lost and unseeing. "They're not coming back."
"Let's go."
Enchanted Forest
"So it's just…in here somewhere?" She asked as they continued to make their way through the seemingly endless treasure room.
"Allegedly," he looked around, gaze drawn to the top of a large gilded birdcage. "Give me a boost, would you, luv?"
She glanced over, smiling faintly in an incredulous manner as she stalked over. "So I can't see what you're pocketing? No way. You give me a boost."
Hook caught her arm, holding her, forcing her to meet his eye. "Try something new, darling. It's called trust."
Emma stared in return, releasing a heavy exhale, her bandaged hand wrapped around a bar of the cage. "We do it side by side and fast." She decided finally. "Who knows how long before the- "
As if on que, a large thud echoed around the castle, shaking the ground. She could feel the vibrations through the metal of the cage. Several more thuds came in quick succession, and Emma distantly felt Hook place his hand on her shoulder protectively.
"Someone's up." He muttered, the both of them wobbling when another step, closer this time, made the baubles rattle and fall. "Quickly," he urged as a low, fierce growl came. "Get under something."
They ducked around the cage, sprinting toward a wall. However, both froze and turned as the doors slammed open, revealing the very pissed off giant. As it jumped down the flight of stairs and raced toward them, the force of his steps caused the ceiling to begin to cave in. Horrified, Emma spun around to see several large chunks of stone fall where Hook stood.
"Hook?!" She cried, spinning back around just as quickly to watched in despair as the giant, still roaring, reached down to grab her.
Vancouver
The meeting spot overlooked the water. Staring out at it, it was almost easy to forget all that he'd done, though the throb from his leg never failed to remind him of just how badly he'd screwed up. August was leaning against his motorcycle when the yellow bug pulled up.
"Been a while," he began as soon as Neal exited the car, looking ragged and pale. "Where'd you go?"
Neal shrugged listlessly. "Tried to lose myself - it didn't work." A fierceness entered his previously haunted eyes, instantly setting August on edge. "I want to talk to you about Emma."
"I hope you're not trying to reach out."
Neal flinched back. "I just… I feel like… if… if I knew that she was okay, then I could move on." He bit hi slip, desperate for answers. "Is she?"
August nodded. "She will be." Deciding to put the poor man out of his misery, he added, "she got eleven months."
"That should be me! I should be doing that time!" His voice was hoarse, guilt weighing down every syllable. While he didn't exactly know everything about who, or what, August had been, he trusted him to a certain extent, given they shared the same birthplace.
August was already shaking his head, frowning now. "No. We went over this. It's good."
"How's it good?"
"It's a minimum security place in Phoenix. And no," he said before Neal could even open his mouth to ask. "I am not going to tell you which one. She'll get out of there, and she'll be fine." His words turned hard. "You keep your promise and steer clear, and she can have a good life. She can do what she's supposed to do."
"And if I can't be there for her, man, you got to promise me that you will be."
"I promise."
"Then you should do something for me. I was able to fence the watches," at the disapproval on the other man's face, Neal scowled blackly. "Don't judge me. I'm giving it all to her." August's eyebrow had risen dangerous close to his hairline. "And the car – I got a clean VIN number for it, so it's legit. I just… It'll feel like I'm there with her, you know?"
"Money is not what she needs," August objected. "Not for what's ahead."
"Can you just see that she gets it?" Neal asked, exasperated already.
"Sure."
Neal turned to leave, unable to spend anymore time with the man who had literally torn his world apart, before another thought struck him. "And one more thing – if anything changes, and she does her job, this insanity ends, and she's free…."
August nodded, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "I'll send you a postcard."
Enchanted Forest
"I'm not what you think!" Emma strained against the giant's fist, wincing when the pressure worsened.
"You're a thief, and you poisoned me." The giant shot back coldly, snarling openly. "So yeah, I'm pretty sure you're exactly what I think."
"No," she protested. "Look, you have a compass. I need it."
"I don't care what you need."
The next inhale was painful as the giant began to tighten his grip further. Ribs beginning to ache from the force, she gasped out, "no, for my son! To save my son!" She focused on the giants unforgiving stare. "Don't you have family?"
"No," he growled out, beginning to tighten his fist further. "Because humans killed them all."
Chest aching as the pressure increased, Emma quickly used a last ditch effort to free herself when her vision began to blur, black spots dotting her sight. Biting down, sinking her teeth deep into the fleshy bit of the giant's hand, she inhaled deeply when the pressure relaxed, falling the distance to the ground. Standing on shaky legs, she turned and sprinted back to where they'd found the skeleton, barely remembering to leap over the trip wire.
Plucking the sword from the skeleton's grasp, Emma whirled on unsteady legs as the giant charged. Looking upwards, and silently hoping that it would work, she lashed out, setting off the trip wire. Watching grimly as the cage fell onto the giant, trapping him in place, she slowly walked forward.
"Nice security system," she praised dryly, ribs still aching like a bitch. "Efficient." She raised the blade and pointed it at the giant's unprotected face, lips pursing grimly when he reacted with horror.
"No. No! No! No! No!"
"I can tell by your face you know what this is," she stopped the blade, though didn't move it away from his flesh. "Let me guess – it's dipped in some sort of poison." Her tone changed. "You have a compass. I need it."
"You're going to kill me either way." He spat hatefully, goading her. "Go ahead. Kill me."
"You don't know me."
"I know your kind. They massacred us, and destroyed our beans."
Emma arched a pale brow. "I heard it the other way."
"That's because the victors get to tell the story." He snapped in return, flinching back when she merely pressed the blade closer. "Okay! Stop," reaching into his robes, he produced a small metal object that winked in the light. "Here." Gently, he slid the compass through the bars of the cage, and Emma bent to retrieve it when it stopped beside her boot. "See?" He hissed when she raised wide, confused eyes. "I'm not the bad guy."
Emma tilted her head curiously. "Maybe you are telling the truth." While interested, said interest only extended so far. "Doesn't really matter. I have to go." She looked around warily. "Are there any more of you?"
"No. I'm alone." The heartbreak in his words gave her pause, though her attention was riveted to the glass vial he wore around his neck.
"What's this?" She pointed with the sword, "Is this a bean? Can this make a portal?"
He frowned at the excitement in her voice. "Not anymore. It was destroyed like the rest of them," he took a small bit of delight in the despair that briefly flashed over her features. "I wear it as a reminder… a reminder that you're all killers."
Emma raised the sword once more, pointed at the flesh of his face, before muttering lowly, "You're wrong." Compass in hand, she lowered the sword and turned, intent on finding Hook and making her way back down the beanstalk before Mulan cut it down.
At the sound of metal screeching, however, she spun around to see the giant breaking free of the cage. Rising to his full height, instead of trying to crush her once more, he reached for a large boulder. Tensing, Emma watched as he threw the stone away instead of at her, revealing a tunnel in the wall.
"Go."
He wouldn't look at her. "Why?"
"Because you could've killed me, and you didn't." he explained shortly, finally glancing her way. "You get one favour. Now go, before I change my mind."
Eyes still huge, Emma nodded and made to leave. However, she paused right before the tunnel entrance and turned back, expression thoughtful. "Actually… I get two favours."
The giant's eyes bulged slightly. "What?"
"Well, the way I see it, I could've killed you twice – the poison and when you were knocked out." She smiled wryly at the annoyance that crossed the giant's featrues. At least I think it was annoyance…. "I didn't."
"What do you want?"
In her opinion, her two favours hadn't been all that trouble much compared to death, in her opinion. It seemed the giant, who had introduced himself as Anton when prompted, had agreed. He left her free to find Hook, promising that whatever she decided, he'd not interfere. Jogging back to where the ceiling had collapsed, she scanned the rubble, drawn to the sight of movement halfway through the second sweep.
"Hook," darting through the debris, she clasped his hand in her own, and he was laughing as she tugged him free of the plaster and stone.
"You are bloody brilliant, amazing." He enthused while straightening, kohl-rimmed eyes practically sparkling with mirth and, to her surprise, a tinge of pride. "May I see it? The compass." She obligingly pulled it out of her pocket, holding the gilded compass. "It's more beautiful than legend." Frowning at the covetous manner, Emma returned the compass to her pocket before he could try to touch it. "Come," he said, unaware of her suspicions. "Let's go."
He extended his hand, smiling so earnestly that it made her heart twinged in the depths of her chest. Casting her gaze to the side, she reached past him, grabbing hold of the shackles on the wall, and clamped the iron around his wrist before he could realize what was happening.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, voice breathless from surprise, reflexively jerking against the chain. "What are you doing?"
"Hook, I… I… I can't…." She stuttered out, looking away from the man.
"Emma, look at me." He waited until she had done so, voice low and soft, as if addressing a wild creature. "Have I told you a lie? I brought you here. I risked my own safety to help you. The compass is in your hand," he nodded his head at said compass. "Why do this to me now?"
Emma began to back away. "I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? You're sorry?!" He demanded, struggling against the chain in earnest now. "I got you here! I got you the compass!"
She paused in her retreat, eyes blazing, and straightened her spine to stare him in the eye. "I got the compass."
He changed tactics. "Well, you're just going to leave me here to die?" Still raging, there was a plea in his voice now, one she wanted to flinch from. "Have that beast to eat me, to crush my bones?"
"He's not a beast," it was her turn to bristle in anger, anger for the giant who had spared her life just as she spared his. "And you're not going to die. I just need a head start – that's all."
With that, she turned on her heel to head for the bean stalk, mindful that her ten hours were almost up.
Jerking against his bonds, he called out to her, each more desperate and angry than the last. "Swan." She continued walking, her pace picking up until she was all but sprinting from him. "Swan! Swan!"
Mary Margaret watched Mulan once more check her sundial, suspicion overtaking her former bemusement. She watched the indecision as if flickered briefly over the woman's tanned features, regret and resignation quickly chased away by resolution. As Mary Margaret drew a hand along Aurora's head in comfort, thankful that the woman was still sleeping, Mulan spun on her heel.
Unsheathing her sword, the warrior stalked purposefully for the beanstalk, not surprised when Snow protested loudly.
"Whoa, wait!" She rose, the movement awakening Aurora, wh sleepily watched. "What are you doing?"
Mulan pivoted, blade extended to ward off the other woman. "Just stay back," Mary Margaret briefly topped in surprise at the sight of the sword. "Emma gave me ten hours."
Mary Margaret recovered, moving forward once more. "No, no, no!"
Aurora, dismay rapidly chasing away any remaining vestiges of sleep, rose and raced to Snow's side. "What, you're just going to leave her to die?" She demanded shrilly of the woman sword to protect her.
"Ten hours." Mulan repeated grimly. "She may already be dead."
"No, st- " She lunged for the beanstalk with her sword, the protest dying on Aurora's lips.
The strike sent a surge of magic up the stalk, making Mary Margaret's alarm reach dangerous levels. "No!"
"No, stop!" Aurora watched as Snow rushed Mulan, tackling her, sending them both onto the ground. They began to grapple on the dirt, leaving Aurora to look on helplessly. "Stop! Stop!"
"This was your daughter's wish!"
Mary Margaret managed to get the upper hand and glared down at the warrior. "I don't care what you say! You do not put my daughter in danger!"
"Stop!" Emma yelled from several feet above the ground, rapidly climbing down the beanstalk.
Everyone turned in disbelief, all startled, and Mary Margaret rose from the ground, Mulan following suit.
"Emma!" She rushed toward her daughter. "You okay?"
"Two earthquakes and a jump from a beanstalk, I think my brain's still rattling around a little." Mary Margaret frowned at her sarcasm, though Emma's attention was drawn to Mulan.
"I did what she ordered," the warrior retorted when Mary Margaret threw her a scathing glare. "Nothing more than that. Did you get it?"
Emma nodded grimly. "Yep."
Aurora asked the question no one else had yet voiced. "W-where's Hook?"
"He's detained," was all she offered. "Let's go. Get your stuff," no one made to move. "We got ten hours before he follows us."
"What? How?"
"I got a friend looking after him till then."
As the others began to grab the meager amount of belongings, Emma looked around, frowning at the absence of a dark-haired teenager.
"Lillian still missing?" She asked Mary Margaret, who was frowning so deeply it looked permanent.
"Yes." She replied shortly, eyes narrowing. "You told her to cut it down?"
"Yes. I couldn't risk- "
"We go back together." Mary Margaret interrupted fiercely, unable to stop herself from shaking her daughter. "That is the only way. Do you understand?" She didn't wait for an answer before tightly embracing her daughter.
Emma returned it. "Yeah…."
"Good," the dark-haired woman rested her chin on Emma's shoulder. "Now, let's go and find Lillian, so we can get that dust."
"Yeah," Emma's voice was wistful "And go home."
"Mhmm."
Phoenix
The blonde woman - girl, really - didn't even look up when the door to her cell opened.
"Swan, you got mail." She looked up, startled, at the guard's words. The older woman read the envelope, eyebrow raised in question. "Know anyone in Phuket? I've got to open this in front of you. Those are the rules," at Emma's nod, the woman began to open the envelope. "Okay."
Emma watched, heart skipping a beat in her chest, as the guard produced a key chain. A swan keychain.
"Look – car keys." The older woman held it up. "Hope you got the car it goes with. Nothing else, no letter," she even looked for good measure. "Sorry. But, good news – you get a car when you get out." Her lips twitched; she'd heard the gossip, and felt nothing more than pity and sympathy for the poor girl. "And a baby. Congratulations."
The woman left, and Emma looked back down to what had held her attention only minutes before. The small plastic stick sat innocently in her hands, and she swallowed past the growing lump in her throat at the positive sign it clearly displayed.
Storybrooke
Despite the late hour, David was still up, reading in the downstairs bed, when a heart-wrenching scream echoed through the loft. "Henry!" He raced up the stairs, two at a time, and was at his grandson's side in moments. "Henry?" He was awake this time, not thrashing, caught in the throes of a nightmare. "Hey, hey, hey," he muttered sitting on the bed and drawing the boy close when he saw the tears dampening his cheeks. "You're okay," Henry shuddered against him. "You're okay, you're okay."
"I… I just had the worst nightmare." He whispered into the flannel of David's shirt.
"It's over now." David rubbed up and down Henry's back, chin on top of his head, as the boy whispered, "okay."
He pulled back slightly, "okay?" when Henry nodded again, he reached over for one of the candles that rested on the bedside table. From what he'd gathered, this had been a room 'Lillian' had used in the past when she'd had a spat with 'Ruby'. The only time it had actually been used had been Cursed memories, but it brought Henry comfort all the same. "Here," he grabbed the matchbox and lit the candle. "This will help."
"A candle?"
"Yeah, they keep the nightmares away." He looked away from the comforting glow, focusing attentively on his grandson. "Now, talk to me. What was so bad?"
"I… I was in this room, and… and it was red." His voice trembled, frightened even now. "And there was no doors, no windows. And these curtains… and they were on fire. And… I was in this corner."
He'd heard all this from Snow, when she awoke screaming and crying in the months after he sleeping curse ordeal. "Right."
"And… and… and… and I was looking out, and there was someone else there." David started, though Henry didn't seem to notice. Snow had never mention another person in the dream with her. "She was staring at me through the flames. Th-then I woke up and…."
Sobs began to threaten the boy's voice, and David merely drew him closer. "Hey, don't worry, alright?" David whispered against the top of his head as Henry pressed closer, seeking comfort. "It was just a bad dream."
Thoughts? Comments? Questions?