Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis. Title of the story is taken from a song by Carina Round. For the hat-trick of things I do not own, see basically everything.
A/N: Hello all, hope you're weathering this hiatus. Your feedback is amazing and very appreciated, I'm writing my dissertation at the moment and it's killing me so thank you for the boost! Not the biggest fan of parts of this chapter (and I'm sorry it's so long, I genuinely don't understand how it happens) but I hope you enjoy.
Hook was feeling pretty damn pleased with himself as he strode out of the dungeons. His smugness lasted all of a few moments once he realized he had effectively cut himself off from anyone of interest for the next nine hours. The dungeons were the only thing in the palace that wasn't made of marble or diamonds and, despite his typically pirate fondness for shiny things, he would have preferred to spend the night there. Above all, he would have preferred to spend the night there with Emma, but he was getting ahead of himself. She would hate him for the next three or so hours, he knew from experience, and then the next two hours would be spent furiously berating herself for not seeing it coming. One pathetic hour would be wasted wondering what she did wrong to make him turn on her, and the rest of the time would be used devising an escape plan which would ultimately fail until he came to set her free. Maybe he was projecting a little but that was essentially how things would go.
Well, good. Perhaps that would teach her not to double cross a pirate.
He brushed a loose strand of hair from his eyes, wincing in surprise when his fingers grazed over the cut above his eyebrow. One of the Shells had given him a nasty punch but, as the blood on Hook's hands could attest to, he had more than received his comeuppance.
Jumping in to try and protect Emma from the Queen's wrath had not been the smartest of moves, especially considering he already knew that the Shells could not be overpowered by one man, and ultimately it had made no difference. They had carried the unconscious Emma to the cells deep beneath the palace and, from her awkward position on the floor when Hook had arrived, flung her in unceremoniously. He had held himself back from following the Shells to the dungeon, instead forcing himself to wait an appropriate amount of time and then asking the Queen's permission to check on his companion.
"Your guards are certainly obedient but I rather doubt their handling abilities," he had explained.
The Queen had raised an eyebrow but allowed him, sending one of her human guards down with him. Hook wasn't certain if this was cunning or stupidity on the Queen's part, but either way he had knocked the guard into unconsciousness the moment they reached the dungeons. It helped to vent some of the frustration he felt towards the Queen, towards not being able to help Emma, towards his revenge being so damned closed before something happened - again - to delay it.
There had been no hint of satisfaction seeing Emma crumpled on the floor, no satisfaction at all until she had woken up and realized the mess she had landed herself in. That, Hook had to admit, had been quite fulfilling. He replayed her moment of comprehension over in his head as he strode in what he assumed to be the way back to the courtyard.
It did not surprise him when he was apprehended by the Shells less than five seconds later, though it certainly annoyed him. To be dragged around like a disobedient mongrel was almost more than he could accept. The dried blood on his hands went a long way towards remedying the injustice, as did the thought that he could strike at the hollowed out men without remorse. Or rather, even less remorse than usual.
The Shells did not take him back to the courtyard but through the palace. It was a magnificent structure, filled with artwork and antique decorations, though devoid of subjects. The few people who had been milling around the courtyard earlier were apparently not given free rein, Hook noted with interest. The Queen of Heart's court had always been full.
Hook was marched through a series of corridors, some lined with portraits and others completely stark, before coming to a stop outside a grand pair of doors. Two Shells pushed open the door and two others brought him inside.
The Queen sat alone at the head of a long dining table, surrounding by the implements of afternoon tea. She glanced at Hook as he entered and then looked again more closely.
"I would thank you not to attack my guards in the future," she said, raising a teacup to her lips. "You may go," she added to the Shells, whose magic drained out of them at the dismissal.
Hook shook his way out of their grasp as they became limp, trying to ignore the faint feeling of horror that the Queen had such control. Still, dealing with powerful Queens was nothing new for the Captain.
"It must be terrible for morale," Hook agreed, striding further still into the grand room.
Though determined not to show it, he felt uncomfortable in a place of such splendor. Not because he didn't feel good enough to be there (there were very few things in life that Captain Hook did not feel an automatic superiority over) but because the over-exaggerated air of wealth and power suggested that the Queen still felt she had something to prove. He knew from his very early pirating days that no one with a determination to make the world look at them could be trusted; more than a few coats of blood stained his hands from harboring that mentality.
He did not let on his concern and took the seat the Queen indicated.
"You have a beautiful home," he said, because first and foremost he was a gentleman. "I particularly like what you've done with the…pillars."
In truth, the sturdy pillars that ran in parallel lines beside the dining table were an awful mess of diamond-encrusted marble (…how? Hook wondered. Or, more importantly, Why?) that cheapened the otherwise magnificent space.
"I am the Queen of Diamonds," the Queen said, sounding bored. "My decorating choices are limited. Please," she added, nodding towards the tea set in front of Hook. "Help yourself."
Hook simply looked at her for a moment, wondering if she had called him to her so he could participate in her tea party. Then, seeing no other option, he picked up the empty cup closest to him and examined it.
"Small, pink and dainty," he said, dangling it by its handle. "This will do wonders for my image."
The Queen's lips curled in derision. "An image cultivated through eye makeup and excessive leather. I doubt a teacup would shock anyone at this point."
Hook conceded the point, righted the cup and poured his tea.
"The question is, do I allow the guard his revenge?" the Queen mused, as though they had never strayed from the topic. "After all, justice seems to be a matter of great importance to you."
Hook smiled grimly as he reached for a spoon. "If we offered the chance of revenge to everyone I have attacked then I would be in the unfortunate position of being very dead."
The Queen took another drink. "Then perhaps we have common ground after all, pirate."
Though he spent much time preparing his tea, Hook did not drink it. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Queen - although he certainly didn't - but Wonderland was notorious in its tricky beverages.
"I will allow you to keep the key to the dungeon cell, considering you intend to keep Miss. Swan locked up," the Queen announced.
Hook did not enjoy that the Queen had knowledge of all his past misdeeds; it made plotting against her incredibly difficult. Luckily, he had always been a spur-of-the-moment type of man. She could not predict his movements if he had no idea of them himself.
"Do you care for her?"
The question jolted Hook from his thoughts. He pretended to sip his tea, wondering if would be socially acceptable to throw it out and just drink his rum, before replying:
"She betrayed me."
The Queen's thin smile was just visible behind her teacup. "That isn't what I asked."
"I would be intrigued to hear how you became Queen," Hook said, making no attempt to subtly divert away from the question.
He half-expected the Queen to demand he answer her question, but she merely smiled as though he had told her what she needed to know. The notion unsettled him.
"The Queen of Hearts vacated her throne and I bought, schemed and killed my way to her place," the Queen said, as though recalling the vague history of a thousand years past. "There was nothing in my method that has not been done in every other bid for the throne." Her gaze hardened as she looked around the dining room. "I inherited the title, the lands, and a palace of rooms each more useless than the next. One room is filled with half-eaten scones, another with a thousand hats. The dining tables and chairs often grow tired and wander off, and the libraries contain books filled with riddles that have no answers." An idea, hopeful and bright, broke through her deeply irritated expression. "Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?"
Hook supposed he had been asked stranger questions, though he could not think of when.
"I'm afraid not."
"Blast." The Queen's face clouded over once more, taking with it the only hint of happiness that Hook had seen from her thus far. "Do you see? Power is nothing without knowledge."
Hook thought of his own strength and skill, both completely useless without the knowledge of how to kill the Crocodile. Well, now he knew and it was only a matter of time before he could apply it. Just one more hurdle to overcome.
(He had been saying this five hurdles ago.)
"Why did you call me here, Your Majesty?" he asked, giving up the pretence of drinking his tea and setting the teacup down.
"Do I bore you?" the Queen asked, fixing him with a stare.
"Not at all," Hook said, finding he was speaking the truth. "I'm just several worlds away from my comfort zone and thought context might ease the transition."
The Queen's smile was mirthless. "You were here for conversation, but now I find that you bore me. You may leave."
Hook stood, unsure if this was some bizarre kind of test.
"Perhaps go and taunt the girl you wish was your lover, that's sure to win her affections," the Queen continued, her scorn evident. "I would be careful, though. She's shattered glass wrapped in steel."
Hook had heard enough. He bowed stiffly, maintaining etiquette for someone who did not deserve it.
"In the interest of clarification, why did you pull her down into the portal with you?"
Hook was already walking away and did not look back.
"In the interest of not lying to you, I'd prefer to keep that unanswered."
Emma stood up the moment she heard the dungeon door open. She fervently hoped it was Hook, mostly because that meant she would have someone to shout at. It hadn't seemed long since Hook had left, meaning she had either lost track of time or gone insane. Each option seemed frighteningly likely.
"Time sure flies when you're stuck in a cage for nine hours with nothing to do," she called out.
"It must do," Hook said, striding into view and not wasting any time in jamming the key in the lock, "considering it's only been three hours at most."
"What?"
"Change of plan, darling."
Emma's lips thinned. She could detect the urgency he was trying to hide.
"What did you do?"
Hook grinned at the complete lack of surprise in her voice. He glanced up, the spark of mischief in his eyes failing to soften the stoniness in her own.
"I don't suppose you would believe me if I told you that I did nothing?"
"Not for a second."
The lock clicked open and, in the interests of saving time, Hook opted for honesty.
"I have a fear that the Queen frowns on people taking an interest in a particularly large diamond that she leaves completely undefen-"
"You stole it, didn't you?" Emma interrupted flatly.
Hook pushed open the cell door and gestured for Emma to leave.
"Can't ask a man to change his nature," he said as she passed, not taking her eyes off him. "A pirate, even less so. I was on my way back from the dining room and it was just sat on an end table. The Queen doesn't know it's missing yet but I would rather not hang about."
He made to leave but stopped, confused, when he realized Emma wasn't following.
"What's the matter?" he asked, quickly scanning her. Unlike his previous, leisurely looks at her body, he seemed to be checking for injuries or something that would prevent her from fleeing with him.
"Can I trust you?" Emma asked, folding her arms across her chest and making it clear that she would not move until he answered.
Hook stared at her for a moment, taken off-guard by the question. Emma knew he was impatient to leave but she was reluctant to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. There was no point in escaping with someone out to screw her over at every opportunity, so this time she had to make sure. Hook didn't seem to understand her line of reasoning and Emma could tell that in the moments before he answered, he was seriously debating just throwing her over his shoulder and marching out. Instead, he relaxed his expression into an almost lazy smile.
"Unless you intend on acquiring precious jewels anytime in the next few minutes, I don't really think you have cause for concern." He indicated the dungeon door. "May we go?"
"That isn't what I meant," Emma said, standing her ground. "Can I trust that you'll stop trying to get even with me? That this is it, that we're done?"
Hook held her gaze evenly and shifted himself into a stance that matched her own. "An apology wouldn't go amiss."
"How about a truce?"
Hook scoffed, a scornful smile ghosting across his lips. "Like the one we had on the beanstalk?"
"Or maybe like the one we had three hours ago?" Emma shot back. "Don't pretend you're innocent in this." They stood glaring at each other until Emma took a breath. If she would have to sacrifice a little of her pride to get them out of the dungeon then fine. She would sacrifice the bare minimum. "I did it for my son. I couldn't trust that you wouldn't change your mind, so I left you."
It didn't sound like much of an apology, just as Emma didn't intend for it to be. After being dragged into a portal, knocked out and left in a cell she was not feeling very apologetic about anything.
"I wouldn't have left you."
To her great surprise, something like shame crept into Emma's chest. This would be the long-delayed guilt setting in, she guessed, brought on by the kind of hurt that belonged to a child and not a pirate Captain. She looked away for the briefest of seconds.
"I know." When she looked back, they had both armored their vulnerability. "We can't just go running out there unarmed. You got a plan?"
"I have a hundred," Hook answered, cementing their truce. "Each more unlikely than the next. One involves a dragon."
Emma scowled. "Having fought a dragon, I'm going to veto that. Just because we're in Wonderland doesn't mean you have to lose your head."
"Funny," Hook said, straight-faced. "You had better hope that decapitation isn't in our future; apparently there's a room in the palace brimming with hats and it would be a shame to waste them."
Emma stared at him, ignoring his sarcasm. "A room of hats?" she repeated. Something was struggling to form in her mind and the only way she could reach it was to voice her thoughts as they came. "The Mad Hatter. He thought the hat was a portal. He said I had to get it to work, that I was the only one who could. Obviously nothing happened…" Realization dawned and Emma turned, wide-eyed, to Hook. "Because there wasn't any magic in Storybrooke then. But there's magic everywhere here, so if we find that room-"
"We have a way out," Hook finished, understanding her excitement. All their previous animosity was forgotten, if not quite forgiven, in the way he smiled at her. "Smart lass."
Though they should not mean more to her than the compliments of anyone else, Hook's little endearments always gave her a confidence boost, before she inevitably reminded herself that they didn't mean anything. He was a pirate, and more than that he was a charmer. Still, her lips lifted ever so slightly in response.
"We get to that room, we're this much closer to freedom."
"Freedom," he mused as they began their quick walk from the dungeon. "My second favourite F-word."
The Queen must not yet have noticed the missing diamond, as Emma and Hook made their way into the upper levels of the palace uninterrupted. Working on a hunch made everything more tense than usual, adding to the stress of not knowing where to even begin looking.
"So you've met the Mad Hatter before?" Hook asked, opening a door at random. He glanced inside, shook his head and closed the door again.
"Yeah," Emma replied, following his lead and twisting the doorknob to what turned out to be a locked door. "He kidnapped me and forced me into making a hat."
Hook paused in his efforts.
"He had you completely at his mercy and he chose to give you a lesson on creating clothing accessories? That clears up the mystery of why they call him Mad."
Emma ignored him. She could feel defeat beginning to wear at her eagerness. "We can't just open every door in the palace," she said, abandoning the doorknob she was about to reach for. "What if we find the Queen by accident?"
"Oh, you shan't find her here."
Emma jumped at the unfamiliar voice and looked around, preparing to punch her way out of whatever trouble they found themselves in. The hallway was empty save herself and Hook. Confused, Emma turned to Hook who was still - somehow - in possession of his sword. The voice spoke out again, impatient this time.
"Up here, on the wall."
Unsure if this was the wisest course of action, Emma looked up. In between a window and a painting of a goose in a collar that would have made Shakespeare envious was a wooden plaque, upon which was mounted a white fluffy mass that Emma would have assumed was a toy upon first glance. She squinted up in time to see the fluffy mass's head move.
"I wasn't going to speak out," it said in its rich, prim voice, "but it seems you are enemies of the Queen."
"Only if you are," Hook said, taking the strange turn of events in his stride as he was prone to do. He examined the fluffy mass for a moment. "The White Rabbit, I take it?"
Emma craned her neck for a closer look, confused and more than a little uneasy. The White Rabbit was supposed to be a noble creature, a member of court, not like other common animals caught and mounted.
"The Queen had me stuffed," said the White Rabbit mournfully. "Everything except my head. Bewitched me to live, stripped me of my beautiful clothes and - oh! I can hardly bear the shame of appearing in such a state of undress in front of visitors!"
"You're not the worst thing I've ever seen naked," Emma assured him, much to Hook's amusement. She glanced at him, prepared to scold him for his laughter, but the thought occurred that there hadn't been much to find funny recently. She let him have his moment.
"And my pocket watch…" the White Rabbit continued, his eyes shining as they fixed on a far-off point. "All my lovely possessions, gone."
"Commiserations, mate," Hook said, allowing genuine sympathy for a moment before getting back to business. "There's a room full of hats somewhere around here. It'd really upset the Queen if you told us where it was."
The White Rabbit seemed to relish the idea. "Would it derail her plans?"
"Like a damn train wreck," Emma promised, slowly becoming accustomed to the White Rabbit's unnerving nature.
"Then it would be my honor," the White Rabbit said, full of the pomposity of his storybook counterpart. "Continue to the bottom of this corridor and turn left at the top. On your right there will be a staircase. Go up four levels, down six, up two more and finally down one and a half-"
Emma interrupted him before he could go any further and made him repeat the instructions, counting off the floors on her fingers.
"So the room is…a floor and a half below us?" she said, making sure she had done the math correctly.
The White Rabbit frowned. "No, young lady, that isn't what I said at all. Haven't you been listening?" He sighed gustily, although since his chest did not move it was really nothing more than noise. "The room you seek is up four levels, down six, up two more and then down one and a half. The directions must be followed exactly, otherwise you will not reach your destination."
"But that doesn't…" Make sense, she had been about to say before realizing it was pointless. Of course it didn't make sense, it was Wonderland. In any other world they would be able to simply climb down one flight of stairs and be done with it. Here they had to do a damn song and dance before they got anything done.
(Emma was briefly grateful that this was not the musical version of Wonderland. The horrors would be tenfold.)
"Alright," she said, swapping an irritated glance with Hook. At least he seemed as annoyed as she did. "Anything else?"
"You will know the door to the Hatter's room when you see it," the White Rabbit said. "It is the only one on that floor. I will distract the Queen if I can, though I cannot promise anything in regards to those ghastly guards of hers."
Emma nodded in gratitude and began to move. "Thank you."
"Oh," the White Rabbit called after them. Emma paused and turned around, trying not to seem impatient after all he had done for them. "If you see Alice, do remind her that the date is not one to be missed." He shook his head. "She is dreadfully late, of course, frightfully so, would never have happened under the rule of the Queen of Hearts."
"Right," Emma said, unsure of how to let the creature down gently. "Alice, really late. Got it."
"My gratitude," the White Rabbit said, twitching his ears as he settled back into his immobile state. "Perhaps the March Hare will visit me later. We're very distantly related, you know."
"Come on, lass," Hook murmured, taking Emma by the crook of her arm and pulling her gently along as the White Rabbit continued chattering. "Don't much care to hear the lineage of a rabbit."
Emma pulled her arm away from Hook, setting a brisk pace for him to match. Though the White Rabbit's voice faded, she was left pitying the creature for his fate. She didn't want to think what the Queen of Diamonds would do to them if their theory didn't pan out and they were caught.
"Is Wonderland just made of steps?" she huffed a few minutes later as they started the six floor descent.
"Steps and nonsense," Hook confirmed. "And a lot of tea, for some reason."
Emma tried not to think of how much she wanted a hot chocolate right now. She kept her eyes on the red carpet in the center of the marble steps, keeping herself preoccupied with wondering if the palace had looked any different under the reign of the Queen of Hearts. A lot more headless people, she assumed.
"Think we can trust the White Rabbit?" she asked a few minutes later as they climbed down their final flight.
"Don't see why not," Hook replied, his attention mainly focused on dropping one foot in front of the other. "I would offer all the help I could if it was detrimental to the woman who had stripped me and hung me on the wall. Never did get my own back for that one."
Emma decided not to ask. She was hungry and exhausted and hanging her last hope on the slim chance that she could turn a hat into a portal that would somehow direct them home.
Life-sized portraits and paintings lined the stairwell as they climbed down. Emma kept a wary eye on them, half-expecting something to leap out at her but they appeared completely stationary.
"This should be it," Hook said, stopping suddenly and looking at either side. "Do you see anything, or am I going have to go back and skin a rabbit?"
Emma feared it would be the latter. She was about to suggest that they re-trace their steps in case they had miscounted when she heard Hook's breath catch.
"Do you hear that?"
Several flights below them, a steady march had sprung up. Fear clutched at Emma's stomach.
"We need to run," Hook said, but Emma shook her head.
"No. The White Rabbit said the door would be here."
"Now you choose to trust someone? Emma, there's nothing here but paintings." A strange light entered his eyes. He gripped the frame of the painting that was level with their step, grinning in triumph as his fingers found a groove. The pounding of the Shells' boots was growing closer. He prised the groove apart from the wall, using his hook for added strength, until the painting shifted sideways. Although he continued to tug, the frame would not move further. He grunted with effort but still it would not budge.
"Push it," Emma whispered, glancing frantically at the steps below her, certain that at any moment they would be caught.
Hook obliged and the painting opened inwards as easily if it had been a normal door. Emma did not need the encouragement to move but Hook grabbed her wrist as he stepped up into the space the painting had swung into, taking her with him as they all but fell through the door. Emma closed it barely a moment before the Shells reached their level and used her weight against the flimsy piece of wood to secure it shut. Hook's hook rested barely an inch from her cheek, its sharp edge visible even in the dim light. She kept it in her sights, choosing to take it as Hook's attempt to help keep the door closed rather than viewing it as a threat.
Footsteps thundered up the steps on the other side of the door. Emma tried not to breathe, certain that her fear would manifest in huge gasps and give them away. The breath that came regardless misted the hook, obscuring her wide-eyed reflection. The outside rumble continued as a seemingly never ending pursuit of Shells tried to find them. She turned back to Hook, about to indicate that they should move further into the room, but the words died on her lips when she realized how close they were. He had all but covered her, with barely a whisper of air between their chests. There was no need for them to be that close, no reason, but while Emma could have pushed him away, she did not move.
Hook's fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. In a moment of madness, Emma thought how strange it was that despite their closeness, this was their only skin-to-skin contact. She kept her eyes fixed on his, even as he dipped his gaze down to her lips. A lingering moment was spent there before he lifted his eyes back up to hers. The movement, accompanied by a gentle stroke of his thumb across her hand, sent a pulse through her. She prayed he hadn't noticed, but the smirk on his lips - so close to hers - suggested otherwise.
She pressed herself back into the door, using the discomfort as a method of anchoring herself to something resembling reality. Her world was overwhelmed by the scent of leather and rum and the sea, an intoxicating mix that would poison her if she would only let it.
"I think the guards have gone," she managed, barely moving her lips as she created a verbal divide between them.
Hook drew in a breath, preparing to say something that died before it reached his lips. Instead, he allowed one last glance at her lips, lifted the corners of his own and then stepped away with only a murmured, "Pity".
With room to breathe, Emma collected herself. Adrenaline pumped through her (just adrenaline, she told herself) and she needed to expel the nervous energy. Hook was already walking away, though Emma didn't miss the slight tremble of his hand.
The room, gloomy behind closed high curtained windows, was stacked high with hats of every shape, size and color. The further she moved into the room, the more Emma struggled believing that Jefferson had created so many failed portals. It didn't give her much hope that she could change anything. Being positive was key. Being positive, and possessing a very strong determination not to die in Wonderland.
Emma picked up the hat closest to her and shook it uncertainly. A thick layer of dust flew off. Undeterred, Emma shook it again, willing a portal to appear. It seemed so long ago since she and Mary Margaret had fallen through Jefferson's hat and in a moment that had been filled with panic and fright, she couldn't remember how the portal had been opened. The pressure was not lifted by the knowledge that unless she could figure out how to open the portal, she and Hook would be in the same mode of terror.
"Put a bit of effort into it, love," Hook suggested when nothing happened, picking up a hat of his own and dusting it off. Emma couldn't tell if his coolness was a front to hide the fear that they would soon be found. "Can't tell if you're making a portal or deciding what goes best with your jacket."
That did it. Emma, frustrated and afraid, threw the hat at him. It sailed through the air like a discus, missing Hook as he quickly stepped aside and landing in amongst a pile of other hats.
"Great," Emma muttered as she heard the soft thump. "You lost my hat."
"Damn. If only we had a replacement."
Before Emma could snap back at him, a further thump was heard. Then another. At first Emma thought that she had accidentally knocked over a pile of hats. She was about to bemoan her fate of being crushed to death in an avalanche of fabric when Hook ran to her side.
"You've done it," he said. There was no disbelief in his tone as there was in her thoughts; almost as though he had known all along that she could do it. "You created a portal."
Emma stared at him, then over to the source of the noise. Hats were beginning to fall from their towers, shaken by the impact of the portal beginning to gain power.
"How?" she asked, doubting herself.
"Does it matter? We have a portal."
They followed the thumps, still dodging hats, until they reached the rapidly spinning top hat. Smoky tendrils surrounded it, spilling down onto the stone floor until the hat widened out to meet them with a loud whirring noise.
"Give me your hand," Hook called over the din, already reaching for her.
Emma had no particular desire to be close to him after their earlier proximity but logic intervened. She didn't want to lose him in whatever magic fuelled the hat. She took his hand, taking a moment in the madness to notice how warm and calloused it was.
"Confidence level in the plan isn't great right now," she shouted as the edge of the portal neared.
"You're just stalling so you can hold my hand," Hook said, tightening his fingers around hers.
"Really not," Emma muttered to herself, taking a deep breath.
They had no idea where the hat would lead. No idea if it would be home or somewhere worse than this.
"Sometimes you don't get to look before you leap," Hook said, noting her reluctance. He leaned in to her, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke. "Sometimes you just have to trust you'll end up where you need to."
Emma gave him a look that threatened pain if he got any closer. He just smiled. Half-exasperated, Emma filled her head with thoughts of Storybrooke and Henry before jumping forwards, plunging them both down into the hat.