I'm alive! Back from the nothingness of reality to update this fic! Again, constantly in awe of the response this story has received. Thanks so much for the support even in my absence!
Disclaimer: Totally not mine, just borrowing.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Hook had long ceased attempting to keep track of time aboard the Flying Dutchman through conventional means. There were no sunrises or sunsets, and the constant day-lit grey of the world outside blotted out any chance of seeing the stars, assuming there were any to be seen in the first place. He tried listening for the movements of the crew on deck, hoping to catch the scuttle of activity that always came with shift changes in certain areas of the ship, but counting out seconds between those changes proved fruitless when he discovered the shift changes were both longer and shorter than any he could recall from his days on the Jolly Roger or even the Jewel of the Realm.
Were the Dutchman's crew under his command he would never have tolerated such disorderly conduct.
Despite the lack of timeliness on the Dutchman Hook's gut told him that they weren't making any measurable progress anywhere, and that the ship was waiting for something. Whatever it was likely had to do with what Davy had been speaking with his guest about some time before. Killian had a sinking suspicion he knew who the guest in question was, and it did little to comfort him that whatever the Dutchman was waiting for was inevitably connected with her.
In the meantime, he spent far longer than he would have liked picking the locks of the squid ink cuffs currently restraining him in Davy's quarters. The restraints were giving him more trouble than he'd had picking locks in some time, and he cursed his lack of recent practice for the slowness.
At least he didn't have to hear the Dark Swan mocking his efforts, however much he missed seeing his Swan's lovely form. Even in the guise of the Dark One, the sight of Emma Swan never failed to spur him to action. But ever since he woke with the cuffs on, the dark hallucination had been surprisingly absent. Hook wondered if that was due to the squid ink dampening his newfound magic, but found he didn't particularly care whether or not the magic was usable to him. He had survived centuries without it and for all that the Dark Swan spoke of using the darkness to finally take his revenge Hook found he didn't want to have to rely on another's assistance for the task. It was, after all, his revenge, and he wouldn't have anyone mucking it up for him. The darkness was just a tool in his vengeance. If he had access to the dark magic then he would use it, and if not, he'd get by without it, same as always. He had seen what fixating on the darkness's power did to the Crocodile and he wasn't keen to follow that obsession.
That didn't mean he wouldn't heed the Dark Swan's advice about taking control of the Dutchman and using it for his own ends, he just wouldn't do it by relying on a dark magic that he had no practice controlling.
His fingers twisted and turned, gently teasing the lock of the cuff with the pin he'd kept hidden in his sleeve. Old habits died hard, especially those born from centuries of practice. If Emma knew he'd kept not only several of her hair pins in his sleeves but also several daggers hidden under his new clothes in addition to that ridiculous talking phone device, Killian was sure she would have given him a tongue lashing before asking just how he'd done it without her notice.
Hook's blood ran south as he imagined the very thorough search he would have suggested she give him to find those mysterious fares. The way her fingers might creep along his chest as they slid downward, her mouth following after…
His fingers paused at the thought. It was the first time he had really thought of his Emma since realizing he was the new Dark One, since deciding to take up his vengeance once more. A dying part of him screamed dimly that Emma wouldn't want this for him, that she would tell him to let the past stay in the past where it wouldn't hurt his future. That revenge wasn't worth losing himself again. Hook shoved those thoughts aside. Revenge was precisely how he would find himself again. The darkness was as much a part of him as the hook that gave him his moniker; the Dark Swan had been right about that much. He was no simpering pup following meekly after a hero, he was Captain bloody Hook and he would take what he wanted from the world, starting with the Flying Dutchman and his vengeance against Davy Jones.
With renewed vigor he worked to free himself from the restraints, fingers twisting the metal pin deftly in the cuffs overhead. Hook was determined to free himself and take over the Dutchman. The sooner he redoubled his efforts of revenge, the sooner the pitifully hopeful voice in the depths of his mind would be silenced.
A faint click and tug loosened the cuffs on his wrists, and with a triumphant grin Hook sat up quickly to free his ankles of their similar bindings. Once that was done he stood from the bed and snatched his hook from the shelf where it gleamed and beckoned even in the dull light. Sliding the hook back into his wrist brace felt like being born anew, a return to his true and darker self. With the squid ink cuffs removed, the Dark One's magic edged its way back to the forefront of his awareness, and Hook did nothing to stop the power from making its way down his arms and around the room, bouncing off of furniture and fixtures. Several times the darkness gravitated toward a small chest that was no bigger than a music box, pulled there by some powerful magic inside. Hook opened the box's lid and was surprised to find a small cache of what looked like magic beans. They would have resembled the portal-making legumes more closely if not for the dark and glistening sheen that covered them, a sheen not dissimilar to moonlight on a darkened sea.
Hook pocketed several of the beans. Perhaps it was a special type of magic bean, one that might allow him access to new realms or one that might allow repeated uses? He would have to ask the Dark Swan if she knew it's true purpose, once she reappeared.
Deciding there was little else of use to him inside the cabin, he let his grin turn toothy and his eyes turn stormy as he set his sights on the cabin door, intent on making his presence known as he took over the ship.
It was just his luck, however, that the lock on the door clicked from the other side and the knob began to turn.
Hook quickly moved to stand behind the door, wanting to get the drop on whoever walked into the cabin, and took one of the heavy candlesticks from the nearby table in hand to do so. He wanted the entering man to be Davy Jones, if only for the pleasure of knocking the bastard out the way he was knocked out earlier, but decided there would be plenty of time to wring out a true punishment for the man later after taking the ship. So it was with no small amount of satisfaction that Hook saw the man entering the room was decidedly not Davy Jones, but someone much smaller, almost mouse-like in appearance and posture. His nose twitched erratically in time with the skittish fidgeting of his fingers, as if he were looking for something to pilfer but restraining himself from doing so. The slight man would have looked terrified of the very air around him if not for the dulled glaze in his eyes that likely kept him from expressing much emotion at all.
Something about the man's skittishness, so at odds with his blank demeanor, kept Hook from delivering the blow. There was a familiarity to it, something long forgotten in the course of his centuries spent at sea. Perhaps he had seen the man while capturing a vessel and had been the one to kill him? No, that wasn't quite it. Hook knew this man somehow, and in more than the fleeting capacity of a vessel capture. Whatever it was tickled the edges of Hook's memories and allowed the mouse-like man the time to close the door behind him, locking both of them in cabin.
When the mouse-man finally turned to face the bed and noticed Hook missing from it, he hardly batted an eyelash, a response that left Hook off balance and confused. Shouldn't the man be raising the alarm at the disappearance, Hook thought? He briefly wondered at the overall competence of the Dutchman's crew if they were not only untimely, but also unresponsive to missing prisoners.
Perhaps Hook would simply have to replace them with his own crew of the damned, once the ship was his.
The mouse-man's dull eyes glanced around the room until they landed on Hook standing behind the door, candlestick in hand and hook gleaming. But the only reaction the man gave to the strangeness of Hook's current location was a brief widening of his eyes before they closed again to a half-lidded stare.
Silence stretched between them as Hook tried to decide whether it was worth learning the man's identity and therefore the source of his familiarity. The nagging sensation of knowing in his mind pushed Hook's mouth to form the words before the sensible part of him thought to restrain such notions with a blow from the candlestick.
"Don't I know you?" Hook asked.
"Cap'n says I'm s'posed to watch ya," The crewman explained, not answering Hook's inquiry.
"And he chose you for this task? Above all others on this accursed vessel?"
"I volunteered. Someone's to keep an eye on ya," The man supplied.
Hook snorted at that. "A brave heart, then? Is that what led you down here, or a fool's errand?"
The man shifted on his feet, his discomfort apparent even through his deadeye stare. He spoke quickly, as if afraid of being overheard. "Cap'n don't know it, but I recognize ya. Figured ya might know where from."
"And why would you want to know the origins of our potential familiarity?" Hook questioned. Surely any encounter this mouse-man might have had with him was best left forgotten?
"Just wanna know," The man tried to say with an air of finality that fell short. Under Hook's heavy stare the man quickly added, "Ya forget things 'ere, on the Dutchman. We work, do our jobs, and lil' by lil' forget where we come from, all the wrong we did before. S'not unpleasant or nothin'. S'like waves cleaning footprints on the beach. It don't 'appen all at once, but 'fore you know it, one day you just forget why you tie your knots a certain way, or why you've got that scar."
"And you don't want Davy Jones knowing you're curious?"
"No sir," The man insisted quickly with a shake of his head. His eyes narrowed in confusion at the addition of the title while Hook's eyes narrowed in interest at the admission.
Sir, was it? And the man had something he didn't want Davy Jones knowing? Hook could use that. If there were discontent and secrets being kept from Davy Jones perhaps Hook wouldn't need to force his way into claiming the ship, he could win it with the help of the crew, incompetent though they may be. And if he provided an answer to the man in front of him and earned his loyalty he would be a step closer to an easy take-over of the Dutchman. If one crewman could be turned, so could the others.
Allowing himself a chance to look the man over, Hook could admit that there was more to the man's familiarity than just his face and fidgeting mannerisms. The clothes on his back were centuries old, torn and dirtied to a bloody brown and grey. If Hook thought back far enough to his memories of the uniforms from the Jewel of the Realm he could recognize bits and pieces of the man's outfit that might have matched. But surely that was impossible? Even among the souls of the dead and damned there was no reason the gods would see fit to give him a glimpse of an old crewman, especially not one from so early in Hook's sea-faring career.
But that 'sir' slip…
"The Red Rat. Petty Officer Sprague," Killian recalled, the name rolling off his tongue easily as he let his instincts guide him. "Indeed I do remember you. Your fingers were sticky and light and you had a nasty habit of inciting violence in whichever port I had you thieving in. Makes me wonder if you weren't always meant to turn pirate."
Sprague nodded in memory, his eyes still glazed but heavier now, as though a weight had been returned to him. "And you're Lieutenant Jones, if I recall…"
"Captain Hook, if you'll rightly recall," Hook hissed, shoving aside the nagging voice in his head that recoiled at the moniker. "Now what's this about forgetting things? Your memories are stolen from you?"
Sprague shrugged. "Only those tha' trouble us, sir. I still remember me first days on the Jewel, but the more I work on the Dutchman the more I seem to forget what 'appened after we went to Neverlan'." Sprague frowned and rubbed the spot over his heart. "Why've I got this scar on me chest, sir?"
It was unwitting penance, Hook realized, not answering the man's query. Years of service aboard the Dutchman served as recompense for the dead. The deceased worked through their more guilt-ridden memories, whatever kept them from moving to the afterlife, but were allowed the gift of retaining their more pleasant memories. Hook assumed once the deceased were essentially cleansed of their guilt they were permitted to move onward, and he wondered if that was a known ambition for the souls, if they even knew what they were working toward.
Hook fought back a smirk, a plan forming in his mind of precisely how he was going to use Sprague and this penance system to gain control of the ship.
"Tell me this, Mr. Sprague, your loyalties are with the ship, with the Flying Dutchman?" Hook questioned, already suspecting the answer.
"Aye, with the ship, sir. The work we do is important," Thompson answered easily, automatically.
Good, Hook thought. It would be easier to wrest control from Davy Jones if the crew were more loyal to their posts than their captain, although it did give Hook another reason to want to replace the entire crew as soon as he was able. "Do you know why that work is important Mr. Sprague?"
The slight man frowned at this, his face scrunching in confusion and searching for a memory Hook was fairly certain didn't exist. "Just is," Sprague tried to answer. He didn't sound fully convinced of his own words, no matter that they were pulled from him as though by magic.
"That scar on your chest is from a blade piercing your flesh. The blade was meant for me but you took it in my stead," Hook told him honestly, answering the earlier question. "You died on the Jolly's deck not long after that battle."
"I died protectin' ya?" Sprague questioned, a curious and somehow lighter look in his eyes.
"Your death meant I lived," Hook told him, omitting certain details about Sprague's knowledge of the blade's presence at the time.
Hook's words did the trick, and Sprague's posture loosened a fraction. The man stood a fraction taller, his eyes were a little less glazed over, and Hook fought back a knowing smirk.
"You feel that lightness, Mr. Sprague? That's closure. As you mentioned before, the longer you work on the Dutchman the more your unsavory memories go missing, and that lightness is what remains. A lovely feeling, isn't it? Almost addictive, especially when you know where it's come from?"
Sprague nodded, his still blank features practically gleaming with lightness.
Hook slowly placed the candlestick holder back onto the shelf and chose his next words carefully. "Your service on the Dutchman is no accident. I believe you were chosen for it, because you're quite right, the work you do here is important. It provides closure and frees you of the burdensome weight of your past. That's your duty on this ship, to work toward closure and justice not only for yourself, but for others too."
Sprague glanced up at Hook. "Others? I can help others like I helped you?"
Hook nodded in reassurance. "There's work of mine that needs finishing, needs closure, and I can't do it alone. You were right. Our pasts are linked. And by helping me find closure I can help you find more closure as well. Help me to help you. Help me achieve closure, justice, and together we can free you of the onerous weight of your past. Would you help me with this work?"
"Aye, sir," Sprague's answer was resolute and his hands ceased their fidgeting as he spoke.
Hook let loose a toothy grin that rivaled Rumplestiltskin's darkest years. "Well then, Mr. Sprague, it would appear we have some work to do."
/-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=/
True to her word Mary Margaret had updated Emma every hour on the progress of the search for another mermaid in town, and several hours after the search began Mary Margaret called Emma to tell her of their success. The mermaid was sent with a message for Ursula, and while Emma had hoped for a speedy reply, Regina had cautioned her friend about the potential wait.
"We can't just assume she'll know where Ursula is. She has to find her first, has to be able to speak with her and share the message, and then Ursula has to decide for herself whether to come or not," Regina reminded her, to Emma's annoyance.
The potential wait hadn't stopped Emma from wanting to be as close to the water as possible in case Ursula showed up to Storybrooke in the middle of the night, so she slept in Killian's cabin on the Jolly Roger. Wrapped up in his long leather coat she could at least surround herself in the smell and presence of him, which allowed her a little more grief but also a little more sleep.
The next morning Emma was woken by her parents calling for her from the ship's deck overhead, telling her they'd brought some breakfast and asking if she wanted to watch the ocean for Ursula with them at the docks? Emma knew that they probably hadn't wanted her to spend another night alone and away from them, but she was grateful that they had let her anyway. As much as she wanted to rejoin her family and the life she had built for herself in Storybrooke she couldn't just jump back in. If the reactions of Tinkerbelle and the other fairies were anything to go by then the town wouldn't let her. Not yet.
Emma managed to pull herself free of Killian's jacket but allowed herself the continued comfort of the compass in her pocket as she made her way to meet her parents. Sitting next to her parents and baby brother was a special kind of torture. Every shared look between Mary Margaret and David, every gurgle or thoughtlessly delighted chortle from Neal, they all left a dull ache in Emma, a longing for the happiness and life that were constantly ripped from her no matter how tightly she held on.
Several times one of her parents would be called away briefly to deal with town business, leaving Neal in Emma's care. It hadn't really occurred to Emma until then that her parents and friends had likely been sharing most of her Savior and sheriff duties. It also hadn't occurred to her that they trusted her enough to leave Neal with her, even after her stint as the Dark One. The realization that even if she couldn't rejoin the town yet she still had people who trusted her and loved her made Emma both grateful and guilty. She shoved the feelings aside as best she could, not wanting the baby in her arms to see her distress. Neal managed to crack his sister's dour demeanor a few times, mostly by gesturing with excited and curious hands at the various ships nearby. Emma explained them all to him as best as she could, going into as much detail about the parts of the ships as she remembered Killian teaching her, her voice catching in memory as she did.
Morning soon closed in on noon and it was fast time for Neal's nap. Regina showed up just as Mary Margaret and David were getting ready to go, leaving Emma more than a little suspicious that the trio had coordinated the trade off of who would sit with her waiting for Ursula.
That switch off had been several hours ago, and Emma and Regina had since settled into inconsistent conversation. Neither was quite sure what to say to fill the time, and the start-stop of topics was awkward and stilted. Emma lamely commented on the weather, the continued cloudiness and overall clammy dreariness of the day. Regina simply nodded, agreeing the day wasn't the brightest but at least it hadn't rained yet. Regina then tried describing her continued efforts with Excalibur that morning after their fruitless efforts the day before but Emma only grunted out monosyllables in growing impatience. The failed conversations and day wore on, and still there was no sign of Ursula. Part of Emma was convinced the sea witch was purposefully screwing with them, making them wait so long just to gloat, and she had to remind herself that Ursula wouldn't do that.
Well, probably wouldn't. Old Ursula might have, but new Ursula was a different matter and Emma needed to have faith in the woman's desire to change. Just like she needed to have faith that the townspeople would one day accept her again, and in the mermaid delivering their message to Ursula.
Emma frowned in thought, and questioned, "Ok wait, what was the mermaid's name again? The one we sent with the message?"
Regina shrugged helplessly next to her on the bench. "I don't remember. Something starting with an 'A', Andrina or Alara or something of that nature. She's one of Ariel's sisters and she was nice enough to pass our message to Ursula."
"Out of the goodness of her heart?" Emma asked skeptically.
"Out of gratitude for Hook's part in her sister's happy ending, or so she told Mary Margaret yesterday," Regina informed her. Emma bit her lip at the mention of happy endings, and focused her eyes on the waves lapping against the docks. Regina noticed her discomfort and added, "She'll come Emma. If Tinkerbelle helped us because of what Hook did for her, then I know Ursula will help too, however she can. Killian's part of the reason she and her father could start making amends."
"Doesn't make waiting any easier," Emma replied with a forced smile. Her thoughts drifted to Henry and the reconciliation that still had to happen between them. She was scared to know how he was doing, what thoughts swirled in his head when he thought of her. Had he spoken to anyone about his fears or thoughts? Would he ever want to speak with her again, or had she royally screwed any chance of being part of his life? Emma knew she couldn't live without having Henry in her life any more than she could live without Killian. Both of her boys had burrowed their way into her heart and their absence left a gaping hole she had no hope of filling on her own.
Emma held back a snort at that. For someone who had spent so much of her life alone she had definitely built more than her fair share of attachments since coming to Storybrooke, and she had her work cut out for her if she wanted them all back.
After another beat of silence Emma gathered her courage and dared to ask, "How's Henry?"
"He's ok, he's um…" Regina's automatic reply trailed off and her mouth twisted in consideration. Emma could see the thoughts whirring in her friend's mind as she decided how much to reveal. "He's getting there," Regina told her honestly.
"Is he sleeping ok? Eating enough? Has he talked to you, or anyone?" Emma's worried questions burst out. At Regina's hesitance to elaborate Emma added, "He's my son too, Regina. I just wanna know he's doing all right."
She saw the moment Regina caved; saw it in the fractional lowering of her shoulders and easing of her tense jaw. Emma held back a smile at the sight. "He wanted to see Archie this morning," Regina told her.
"He did?" Emma's reply was wary but hopeful. Wanting to see Archie hadn't always been a good sign in the past but at least Henry was talking to someone. And that could only be a good thing, right?
Regina nodded. "We'll see how that goes but I'm sure we can both agree that Henry looking to talk about what happened is a good sign. Henry also mentioned having a strange dream last night. He was in the netherworld fire room and a man he didn't recognize was in there who had never been put under a sleeping curse."
"But people can't go into that room unless they've been woken from a sleeping curse," Emma pointed out.
"Which is why I thought it was just a dream when Henry told me, not the actual fire room. But Henry was sure he was in the room and he wanted a second opinion, so he's going to see Gold after he meets with Archie. It's probably nothing to worry about," Regina said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Something about their son's netherworld encounter didn't sit well with Emma but she held her tongue, knowing that without proof there wasn't much she could do to convince anyone. "I'm more worried about how he's going to make up his homework assignments from the six weeks we were all in Camelot though," Regina added.
Emma easily recognized the shift in conversation Regina was making, moving the conversation away from Henry's emotional state to something more mundane. Emma assumed Henry had asked Regina not to tell Emma too much, or as was more likely the case, that Regina didn't want to tell Emma too much for fear of breaking her son's trust. The sting of that realization was minor compared to the thought of not having Henry back at all, so Emma let it slide and let Regina move the conversation to their mutual interest of Henry's schoolwork and the toll that adventures with frequent villains took on his education and semblance of a normal life. It was as comfortable a conversation as Emma had been able to manage since Killian's disappearance, but when a flash of light burst from the water Emma didn't bother hiding her eagerness.
"Regina look!" She jumped from the bench and raced to the end of the dock, where the water swirled and foamed. It bubbled into a fountain that rose to a level with the wooden structure, and at the top of the watery spire sat Ursula, who stepped gracefully onto the docks with aplomb.
The sea witch was as imposing a figure as ever, but there was lightness and life to her now that was more akin to a lively coral reef instead of the stormy squall she seemed to carry with her before. Where her mouth was once tipped in a devilish sneer it now quirked upward in casual confidence. And she had traded her darkened modern clothes for what Emma assumed was the latest fashion craze in the undersea kingdom, clamping shells onto her tentacles and draping garlands of coral and pearls through her hair.
"Regina, didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon," Ursula noted, floating forward.
"Ursula, you look well," Regina greeted. "How're the oceans?"
"Ever-changing, as always."
"We need your help," Emma interrupted, dispelling the niceties. "We need to find the Flying Dutchman."
"So I was told," Ursula bit out, displeased at the interruption. "Alana told me what she knew of the situation but I was hoping for a few more details…"
"And you'll get them," Regina replied. "Just as soon as-" Regina's phone rang to life, cutting her off. "It's Henry." She noticed the sudden longing in Emma's features and shot her an apologetic look before quietly stepping aside to take the call.
Ursula turned to Emma expectantly. "You know I have no more knowledge of exactly where the Dutchman is going to be at any given time than you do?"
Emma shoved aside the sharp pang at the disheartening words. "We don't need you to tell us exactly where the ship is, just where it's most likely gonna be." Emma explained Belle's theory about predicting the next shipwreck at sea and wanting to intercept the Dutchman as it collected the souls of the dead. Ursula nodded in understanding, muttering a quiet 'Clever girl' under her breath at Belle's ingenuity.
"Say I do find a shipwreck for you and say the Dutchman happens to be there. How are you going to get there if it's in another realm? I can't bring any of you with me when I cross realms," Ursula reminded Emma.
"Regina's already taken care of the realm crossing problem and we're sailing the Jolly Roger there," Emma told her definitively, not mentioning that the realm crossing would be done via the apprentice's wand. They couldn't use it to travel to the underworld but other realms were well within the wand's abilities. "The ship's made of enchanted wood so we wouldn't even need a whole crew to man it."
Ursula raised a skeptical brow. "You'll need at least a few people who know what they're doing on that ship, honey. I'd hate to see the captain's ship join him in the afterlife."
Emma's eyes narrowed at the sea witch, her anger rising at the woman's continued questioning. "Killian taught me and my son to sail, and he's a damn good teacher. We'll get wherever we need to go, just point us in the right direction."
The pearl-bedecked woman looked down at her from an upraised chin and an unreadable gaze. A heavy silence filled the air between them and Emma could feel Ursula's probing stare testing her, measuring her fortitude, and she fought not to shrink under the scrutiny. The woman may not have been a villain anymore but some habits, like intimidation techniques, clearly died hard.
Ursula's features remained hard but neutral when she finally spoke. "Let's get one thing straight before I do anything. The only reason I'm helping at all is because I owe Killian Jones a debt and this will make us even. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Emma replied.
At her answer Ursula's features simultaneously lightened and solidified, a combination Emma had never known was possible to see in a person. Ursula's eyes crinkled at the corners, matching the upward tilt of her mouth and brightening her face of the stormy demeanor Emma was so accustomed to seeing in the sea witch. But the powerful stance with which she stood on the docks, hands on her hips and head still held high, gave her a distinct air of authority that was inspiring now instead of intimidating, and gave Emma hope in Ursula's ability to help them. "Good. Then I'll need a few items to get started. First, find me a looking glass and some maps of the Enchanted Forest, specifically maps of-"
"How the hell can it be gone?!" Regina's screams cut through whatever Ursula was about to say and both she and Emma flinched at Regina's volume. "And the three of you checked everywhere? All the wards are still in place? Yes? Fine, wait for me there. I'm heading back."
A ball of dread formed in Emma's gut. "Regina?"
"Excalibur's gone. Stolen from my warded basement." Regina's face paled as she spoke and rejoined them at the end of the dock.
"Excalibur? You have Excalibur here?" Ursula's asked in disbelief. "Regina, honey, this is one of those details I would've liked to know before coming here."
"Please tell me it was one of Arthur's leftover goons," Emma seethed, her voice grim but aflame, heated with the promise of retribution for whomever took the sword from under their noses. The hope from Ursula's arrival was fast fading into a desire to find the Camelot residents responsible and make them pay. "Tell me it was one of those magically rufi'd thugs and that they're just in the woods and we can go get the sword back."
"As if anyone from Camelot apart from Merlin could get past my warding," Regina bit out, insulted at the notion of being bested by witless pawns acting on orders. "Our Camelot guests haven't left their campsite in the woods since Arthur was ousted except to spend time at the Rabbit Hole or Granny's. They have no leadership apart from Guinevere and the remaining Knights of the Round Table, splintered as they all are. There's no way any of them were organized enough to take the sword."
Ursula was still staring at Emma and Regina in bewilderment. "You have Excalibur and the people of Camelot just running rampant and leaderless through your town? It's no wonder you could never hold the Enchanted Forest together as queen, Regina. You're letting people walk all over you with their own conflicts. What exactly happened after I left?"
"Don't worry about it." Regina fumed. "It's nothing you'll have to deal with, I assure you."
"It had better not be. Just don't let it bleed into my oceans. I'm here to settle my debt with Hook, not your power struggle with a broken kingdom," Ursula told her.
"We're coming with you to look for clues, Regina," Emma insisted, refocusing the group. "We need Excalibur to get the darkness out of Killian."
Ursula turned to Emma at her mention of darkness, eyes wide and mouth silently agape. Regina's face twisted in discomfort and inner conflict, a struggle that was short-lived in her own desire to check on Henry as soon as possible. "You don't speak to Henry unless he wants to talk to you," Regina affirmed, dark eyes fixing heavily on Emma.
"Fine."
With a flick of her wrist Regina's magic enveloped them, and the nauseous dread that accompanied Emma's recent exposure to magic returned. She shut her eyes but couldn't entirely force the ill feeling aside as they landed on the street in front of Regina's house. The haze of purple smoke cleared and through it Emma saw the outline of her son coming out the open door, the sight clearing her discomfort instantly.
Henry didn't look nearly as pleased to see her though, if the way his entire body froze into a statue was anything to go by.
Regina raced forward and barreled into Henry, blocking his view of Emma. Her hands flew to his shoulders and her eyes raked over him, searching for any injury. Henry brushed her hands aside. "Mom, I'm fine. Belle and Gold are still inside looking for more clues on how the guy got in and out."
Regina's eyes narrowed at her son. "You know who took Excalibur?"
"It was the guy from the netherworld fire room last night. It had to be. He kept asking about Excalibur and where it was. But I didn't say anything about the sword, I promise!" Henry insisted. "He wouldn't tell me anything about himself either, except that he'd never been under a sleeping curse."
Realization hit Emma hard. "Mary Margaret had the same dream the other night. She said Aurora did too, about a weird guy they didn't recognize asking questions."
Regina's head whipped around to glare at Emma, who had forgotten all about not speaking to Henry unless he talked to her first. Henry's face fell at her words. "And he only got to the sword after he talked with me. I probably led him right to it without having to say anything," He realized.
Emma ached to push away the downcast demeanor on her son's face, and forced her arms around herself in an effort to keep from racing forward to take Henry in her arms.
"Henry don't do that to yourself. This isn't your fault," Regina tried to reassure him, a soothing hand on his head.
Henry scoffed. "It might as well be. I couldn't stop the sailor from taking the sword and I couldn't stop my mom from wanting to use Excalibur on me or actually using it on Killian. What's the point of being the Author if I'm this weak? If I'd been stronger I could've done something and none of this would be happening now."
Emma flinched at her son's words, at the reminder of what had led them to this point. It wasn't Henry's fault. It was hers. If she hadn't tried to turn Henry into a Dark One then Killian would never have needed to jump in the way and he'd still be here. Then again, if she had never been a Dark One at all there would never have been an encounter on the Jolly Roger's deck, and if there had been no Dark One's in the first place…
Emma's shoulders sagged. Going backwards in time to find blame wasn't going to solve anything. It wasn't going to bring Killian back and it wasn't going to help Emma repair her relationship with her son. Nor was it going to explain just where Excalibur had been taken in the mere hours it was left unattended.
Ursula spoke up from where she stood next to a brooding Emma at the end of the walkway. "What makes you so sure this mystery interloper was a sailor?" She questioned.
If Henry was surprised to see the sea witch there, he hid it well. "He smelled like the ocean and like he hadn't showered in forever," Henry said, nose wrinkling in memory. "And his clothes kinda looked like some of the things Killian's crew wore when they first got here. The really old shirts and pants that were kinda out of date even by Enchanted Forest standards?"
Ursula nodded in understanding and Emma's thoughts caught up. "So if he'd never been under a sleeping curse and if he was a sailor dressed like he was from the old Enchanted Forest, does that mean-"
"He was a ghost, Miss Swan," Gold interrupted, stepping out of Regina's house with Belle close behind.
Ursula visibly tensed at Gold's appearance, an angry furrow coming to her brow, and Emma rushed to reassure their part-time ally before any conflict could erupt, as it inevitably would. "He doesn't have magic anymore Ursula. He's not the Dark One anymore," Emma told her, ignoring Gold's glare. Gold clearly didn't like Emma revealing his weakened state and lack of power, but Emma didn't particularly care what Gold did or didn't like at that moment. She cared more that Ursula, the woman who could help her find Killian, was appeased.
"You don't know what he's capable of, even without magic," Ursula warned, sharp eyes never wavering from Gold's tense features.
Gold ignored Ursula's cryptic words even as he refused to move any closer to the group, remaining standing on the elevated front step. "Our dreamscape trespasser was a ghost, and likely one of the crew of the Flying Dutchman."
That caught Emma's attention and her head whipped toward the former Dark One.
"How can you possibly know that?" Regina demanded.
Belle was quick to defend her husband's assertion. "Spirits can travel between the realms, especially in dreams. The netherworld fire room is a realm within dreams brought about by waking from a deathlike sleep. It's the perfect way for a spirit to make contact with the living without having to be summoned."
Regina waved a dismissive hand. "That doesn't explain how they got in and out of my house without the wards alerting me, or why it's a crewman from the Dutchman that took the sword. Why couldn't it be some other ghost?"
Belle added, "The warding probably didn't take ghosts into account. No one thinks of needing to defend against ghosts, just the living. And since ghosts can travel through dreams he might even have been able to transport the sword through someone's midday nap."
"And the Dutchman theory?"
Gold shot Regina an odd look with an upturned eyebrow. "Really dearie? The timing of all this isn't the least bit suspect to you? We've established that the captain is the new Dark One and that he's likely on the Flying Dutchman. What other spirits would try to take the sword if not the crew of the very ship he's captive on?"
"I can think of a few…" Regina muttered darkly.
"I'd be more worried about why someone from the Dutchman took the sword in the first place," Henry interrupted, still sullen from his earlier musings. "They can do a lot of damage with that sword, especially with a Dark One to use it on."
Emma's eyes landed back on her son and shivered at the implications of his suggestion. If Excalibur still held most of its properties from when it was just the Dark One dagger then there was a very good chance whoever took Killian onto the Dutchman wanted to use it to control him, and wanting to control a Dark One never ended well.
Emma refused to even consider the possibility of someone using the sword to kill him and take the Dark One's powers for themselves. The thought alone was enough to turn her stomach and make her visibly shudder.
"Whatever the reason for the sword theft it does tell us something very important," Gold said, pulling their attention to him. "It means Killian Jones is still the Dark One and in all likelihood still aboard the Dutchman."
"And it means there's still time to find Killian before the ship reaches the underworld," Emma noted, forcing her resolve front and center.
Ursula's disbelief boiled over. "I'm gone a few weeks and the Savior's boyfriend is the new Dark One? Alana told me he was still alive somehow and aboard the Flying Dutchman but this is just unbelievable. Once my debt with Jones is cleared I never want to get involved with any of you again," Ursula affirmed. "Now find me a looking glass so I can find the Dutchman and Jones and get out of here."
"I just so happened to have a looking glass in my shop, if you'd be so kind as to join me, dearie?" Gold sneered, finally stepping forward and sauntering down the walkway.
Ursula scoffed at that, but followed after him. "Of course you'd be the one to have it. And Savior? I need maps of the northern coast of the Enchanted Forest. I'll bet your boyfriend has a few copies on his ship," She called out to Emma.
"You're sure that's where the Dutchman will be?" Emma asked, wondering how Ursula could have picked out such a place from among all the possible realms.
"No, but it'll go back there eventually. Trust me on that."
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
So about that 100th episode? Still excited about it! It'll be really cool to see where they go with all the characters in 5b (I have predictions but I'm holding out.).
Again, massive apologies about the time lapse in updates to any of my fics! You've all been nothing but supportive even in my absence and it means the world to me!