Emma thought of Henry, how light he had felt when she had held him in her arms for the first time. He was grown now, a young, little man seeking adventure in every corner of his imagination. Her last image was of him snuggling up to her after a long day at the office, handing her a roughly mixed cup of hot chocolate. He had even included the cinnamon. She had kissed him on the forehead and told him to stay that way forever. If only I had magic, he told her.

She then remembered trees. Trees with large branches, hanging low and keeping her cool. The stars were shining bright overhead. She felt the taste of rum on her lips and then a kiss. A handsome stranger, a feeling of relief. It was a dream that she had often had but never uttered to anyone. It had felt too real. She remembered her father too, how he picked her up from the orphanage and brought her home. The orphanage had taught her to trust very few but he understood. I'll help you break those walls, Emma, but you must hold the hammer.

A strange couple crept into her mind out of nowhere. They had warm smiles and their eyes held a long history. They reached out their hands for hers but fear kept her away. She wasn't ready to let go. Death wasn't her home, it wasn't in her cards. Emma opened her eyes and saw darkness. She smelled the salt of the sea, could even feel the rhythm of the waves beneath her cheek. The darkness shifted, sneaking in a ray of light and Emma squinted to see outside, pulling away from the beckons of afterlife.

The ballroom was still there. She could see the corner of the phonograph in the distance, still skipping. She was alive-how? A movement close to her face made her look up and acknowledge her close surroundings. Extremely close. Killian had fully embraced her, his arms weaved all the way around her body like a shield. She fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, his chin propped up on her bed of hair. Despite the grip, he was shaking, his breaths lifting his chest up and down like the tide. Realization struck her and she broke loose of him, her hands pulling open his jacket and feeling his chest up and down. Dry and clean, no blood. She felt his eyes on her but she dared not look up. Instead she looked over his shoulder and searched for the goon to see where he had gone.

He was still there, his gun in his hands, the bright light of fire and machine still sparked from the gun. The bullets had erupted but were frozen in place, hanging in air with invisible strings. The goon was also frozen, not even a cloud of breath coming from his mouth. Her brow creased, straining in confusion. She vaguely felt Killian's hand slide down the length of her arm to her wrist where it cuffed. He tugged at her with a light pull and brought himself beside her again. His hand released her and came up to her face, beckoning her eyes to look at him. His thumb rubbed softly against her temple. He brushed aside a lock of curls from her face. "Emma," he sighed with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Ye...yes, I think. How…?"

"How has this man not turned you into a sieve? Excellent question!" a witching voice boomed from out of nowhere. Emma's immediate reaction was to duck, Killian's was to cover her. The lamp bulbs that lined the rim of the stage exploded in flashing light and the curtain came down with a crash. Green smoke billowed out and flooded the room as if the curtain had kept it all at bay. A dark silhouette emerged and stepped towards the front of the stage. He had a thin frame, wild hair underneath a bowler hat and shimmering greenish-gold skin beneath a raggedy suit. "Sorry about the fuss. I normally prefer a more subtle entrance." He looked like a goblin and when he smiled, a menacing terror hit Emma. Fear had sparked into silent rage. She took a step forward before the voice turned to her again and held up a hand. "Ah ah ah, sweetheart. I'd advise against that if I were you. See, I could press play on my friend here and you'd be done for." He walked across the stage to the steps and came down with complete nonchalance for someone whose secret residence had just been broken into.

"I'll take your advice, if only to get the chance to put my hands around your neck later."

He let out a loud, awkward giggle that echoed throughout the room. He clapped with an untold excitement. "Such gravitas! Might come in handy for me later on."

Emma let out a shaking breath, feeling Killian's warmth right next to her. His demeanor had changed entirely. He had never seen the Emerald King either, never been on this end of the rabbit hole. He didn't like not knowing-he was writhing in disbelief. "Jones…?"

"How are you even here?! I watched you die!" he yelled out.

Emma's head whipped toward him. "You've met with him before?"

Killian looked back at her but chose not to answer yet.

"Ah, yes, the pirate. I didn't doubt your dedication for a second." Emma backed away from Killian, the sudden feeling of betrayal swimming through her veins. She chose to believe him, how could she be so stupid? Never trust anyone.

"Emma, it's not like that. I had no idea it was this monster. I was merely trying to get intel. I...I'm sure that he can explain." He reached for her hand again but she turned away.

"I was such an idiot to trust you. To believe that something good could actually come of this. My son, Killian. What is he going to do now?"

"Now, now, daerie. You mistaken my intentions. I'm not here to harm you...not yet anyway. This is simply a business transaction."

"Business?" Emma shouted. "Was it simply business when your men kidnapped my father and killed him?!"

The King reflected on her remark and began walking closer to her. At the sight of the gangster statue, he waved his hand and the man and bullets vanished in another green plume. Emma was still as well. This magic, whatever it was, had been overwhelming. There was no science, no formula, no beginning stage of deduction to bring reasoning to this. Her anger swallowed all the reasoning she had and made her focus. She didn't back down. She dug her heel into the ground, her body unwavering. Killian watched her, ready to strike at the King if he made the wrong move.

"I didn't kill your father," The King stated with assurance, removing his hat to reveal a full mess of dirty locks.

Emma frowned, her powered inhalation rocking her shoulders up and down. "Liar," she whispered.

The King drew back the lapel of his coat. At the swift motion, her hand reached for the revolver at her leg and drew it. He let out another giggle and pulled a small vial out of his inside coat pocket. "This is your proof." Inside the vial was a thick, clear liquid. It moved like baby oil, but at close glance, Emma saw a light. It moved within its center, rotating in small clouds like the dust of faraway galaxies.

"What is it?" Emma asked, inspecting it.

"Oh nothing much...just your freedom, your memories, everything that you have lost this past year. The true happenings of your birth parents. But if you're not interested…"

"Impossible. How could this-" But Emma didn't finish. She knew the answer was way out of her logic at this point. She wrapped her mind around it, measured the pros and cons, looked in his eyes to determine the truth, as awful and reptilian as they seemed. He either was being honest or was using something much stronger to trick her. She swallowed down her apprehension and continued to point the gun in his face. "Death would be way too easy for you, you know. I plan to put you away for a very long time."

He curled a finger toward the gun in a teasing motion. "I'm a person who negotiates, Ms. Swan. So I'll offer you a deal that is too good for you to pass up."

"Unless it's you behind bars, I don't want it."

The King contemplated, bringing his hand to the corner of his jaw. He smiled, spinning a web to entice her back in. Threads of plans and wagers were practically visible beneath the goblin eyes. "Fine then."

"What?"

"You get me. The Emerald King," He bowed with a flamboyant flare of his wrist. "On a silver, or rather, gold platter."

"And what's in it for you? Why do you need me?"

"You're aware of The Mistress, yes?"

Emma was taken aback. Her name hadn't been brought up in a long time. She had processed case after case of hers but she had paid her dues. "Mob widow from Maine? Regina Mills?"

"That's the one, daerie!"

Emma snickered. "Regina has been cleared for a long time now. She doesn't have blood on her hands that I care about. She lives in Maine, for Christ's sake."

"Yes, with the rest of your family as a matter of fact." Emma swallowed and looked at Killian. For once there was a genuine sadness in his eyes. He gave her a subtle nod. He was clutching the rim of his hat nervously, begging forgiveness in silence. "Well, me and The Mistress have a little bit of beef, you see. We just need to sort it out amongst ourselves, you know, old friends and that. You bring her to me, allow me to have the proper discussions and I'm all yours. This little potion will help you remember all that you have lost and will lead you to her."

Emma dropped the gun to her side and let out a resigned sigh. She weighed her options. She could kill him right now, be free of him, be free of the anchor he had tied her down with. She could leave him in a bloodied crumple, leave Killian and return to her mother's house and to Henry, forgetting that the night even happened.

But it wasn't right.

She had to do this justice. She would bring him in, expose him for all to see, claim her fame in the city and would never want for business again. She could be happy with Henry, watching him grow older. If she killed The King now, he surely would have people after her. She would do this for Henry's safety, for her sanity, for her father's honor.

"Deal," she finally spoke.

The King handed her the vial and she took it carefully in her hands. "You have one week, Detective. Don't let me down."

"Same goes for you, honey. And trust that if you go back on your word, I will find you and kill the both of you." She motioned her head to Killian without breaking her gaze. She lifted the edge of her skirt and slipped the gun back into her garter. She rose the vial to her lips and poured it down her throat.

"See you on the other side, kid," she heard The King mutter as she closed her eyes.

The liquid went down Emma's throat like a slug. It was cold at first, then turned warm as the flashes began. Flashes of a whole other life flooded her synapses, memories breaching the surface. As fast as they came, they went and Emma opened her eyes again with renowned purpose. The King had vanished, the room now dim and without color. The door to the cellar hung open, the music from the club drowning the skipping phonograph. Killian stood before her, his face full of hope. The dust began to settle between them, lost particles drifting to the nearest light. "Hook."

Killian smiled, all disappointment leaving his face. He leaned towards her but stopped himself. He brushed his hair back and put the fedora back on his head, stuffing his hand in his pocket casually. "Did you miss me?"