The knot was almost out.
Emma had been on the ship for a full day, and it was well into the second night since she had been taken. She hadn't spoken to Hook the entire time-ominous storm clouds had gathered in the distance and turned the crew into a group similar to fretting grandmothers. They bustled about the ship, Hook standing at the helm with an even greater sense of self-assurance, if that was possible. Emma had watched intently as the crew had fussed with numerous ropes and sails, paying particular attention to the rowboat she caught a glimpse of when a pirate shifted the tarp.
Emma blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and stared out into the night. Why was she thinking of escaping? A second chance, he'd said. Well wasn't it true? He just had no idea how right he was. Emma did need a second chance to complete Gold's favor, and her plan had disappeared right before her eyes with a single kiss. Perhaps Gold had been right to think that she could use those particular powers of persuasion, though Emma didn't want to admit it. Hook thought she was convincing him to take her with him through the portal-her real task was much more daunting. But, Emma wanted to point out, he had brought her along-didn't that show he was planning on taking her back? Perhaps she had already won more than she thought.
But he was right about the other thing too-she couldn't leave her mother.
Emma stared out at the sea, mulling over her dilemma. A crew member had released her mid afternoon to use the head(a term she'd learned meant toilet-and not a very nice one at that) and feed her a dry piece of cracked sea bread. This particular crew member had tied her up again on Hook's orders, but hadn't paid attention quite as well...
Emma fiddled with the knot. She could feel it loosen in her hand, and the rough ropes dug into her blistered wrists. She was freezing-the wind had blown her jacket open, letting the cold sea air sink into her skin, and she couldn't do anything but shiver in the cold night air.
She was alone on deck, and there was only a single crew member in the crow's nest. Emma wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do about Hook, but she knew she had to get free of these ropes or she would freeze to death.
There. The knot fell free, and rest of the rope slid along her cold skin as she slid her hands out. She pulled her jacket around herself, but the leather was so freezing from the wind off the sea that she was almost colder. Emma started towards the door near the rear of the ship that she had seen the crew disappear down, sparing the lookout a single backward glance before she slid down the ladder.
She crouched down beneath the ladder, rubbing her wrists and peering down the lantern-lit hallway. She could hear bawdy laughter and drunken singing from the doorways at her right, and the sway of the ship made the lantern light flicker. At the end of the hallway, a carved oak door taunted her.
Emma crept forward, tiptoeing despite the loud crew, and stood in front of the door. It looked promising-it hinted at secrets and treasure.
Emma shook her head. She was starting to think like a pirate-she had been on this ship far too long.
She pushed the door open without another moment's hesitation.
It was, as she'd suspected, his room. There was no bed-she expected he was asleep in another one of the rooms lining the hallway-but everything about it was just so quintessentially Hook.
A thick carpet covered the floor, and on a large table compasses and charts were spread out. Empty bottles of rum were stacked on corner of the table, and small wavering candles dripped yellow wax onto scribbled calculations. There was a dressed in the corner with nautical instruments peeking out from a drawer, and a locked chest in a corner. The maps on the wall even had tiny x's and dotted lines sketched all over them.
Emma stepped closer to the table and leaned down to study the mess. A map immediately caught her eye-it was clear that the captain had his own system of symbols and codes that covered the papers, and in the corner of this one there was, unmistakably, a tiny Mr. Gold sketched out.
Emma's heart thrummed in her chest as she gingerly pulled it out. She held it next to the candle, and there was her next clue-illuminated in the soft light, the line that spanned a sketch of the ocean ended with a tiny bottle.
Could it be a bottle of ashes?
Emma rolled up the map, clutching it to her chest and trying to make sense of it. If this map truly could lead her to Cora...well, that eliminated the middle man completely.
Emma's plan began to take shape as she rolled up the worn paper even smaller and tucked it in the waistband of her jeans. If she could get her mother, they could both go to find the ashes, and then they would have their ticket home. Emma's original idea to sidestep Mr. Gold's request resurfaced. She wouldn't have to convince Hook of anything if he wasn't even in the same realm.
It took all of two minutes for her to sneak out of the room, down the hallway, up the ladder, and onto deck again until she was standing in front of the tarp-covered rowboat.
Emma reached out a hand, lifting the thick cloth slowly. If she could somehow get it over the side of the ship and into the water, she could row back to shore.
Thunder boomed overhead, and Emma glanced around nervously before pulling the tarp off carefully. She followed the ropes with her eyes until she saw where they connected to the small boat, and then she pulled with all her might to lift it over the edge of the railing. The rowboat bumped the edge of the ship, and Emma froze, but didn't hear anything, so she continued to lower the boat until it was in the water with a soft splash.
Emma leaned over the railing and judged the distance to the boat, then grabbed onto the rope and climbed down slowly. When she was standing precariously on the tiny boat, she untied the ropes from the sides and pushed off from the ship. The sea churned beneath her, and the dark clouds above threatened rain.
Emma glared up at the sky, as if daring it to ruin her plan, and then picked up the oars and with a giant stroke pulled away from the boat. She liked to think she had a pretty good sense of direction—if she could just keep going in a straight trajectory from the ship, she would be back at the docks in no time.
And then it rained.
Emma cursed and pulled harder at the oars, but the sea rebelled and her tiny boat began spiraling out of control. She heard a yell from the deck of the ship, and pulled again, trying frantically to get away. The storm had begun with a frenzy, the wind whipping her hair around her face and the rain soaking her through.
A giant wave sent her scrambling to regain control of the oars, but she lost her grip and one slid from the oarlock to disappear beneath the roiling water. Emma reached out and the boat rocked her backwards so viciously that she was almost flung from it—her head hit the side and she collapsed, limp as a doll as the rain and seawater soaked her through.
The next thing Emma knew, her world was black.
And then, just for a moment, she felt warmth.
The heat of a fire.
The softness of a blanket.
The sound of a voice.
"Now, how do you expect to repay me for the damage you've done?"