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: I haven't had time to proof read, apologies for any mistakes. Thank you for your feedback, you are an amazing bunch! Chapter is dedicated to my beautiful Riv. Enjoy the chapter everyone!

Emma was hard-pressed to remember if she had ever woken up anywhere stranger than a gypsy camp in 1800s Transylvania. She had once stayed overnight in a motel on the outskirts of Vegas that had been a little funky, although that was now a distant second place.

She had slept under the stars last night, swathed in blankets and surrounded by the gypsies who hadn't managed it back to their tents after the night before. She wasn't sure where Hook had slept.

It couldn't have been long since sunrise and yet the camp around her seemed to have been awake for hours. Men chopped wood and swapped jokes in a tongue Emma didn't understand, while the women and children attended to the morning chores of washing and cooking breakfast. Emma briefly considered introducing the notion of feminism to the camp, before deciding that it was too early (several decades too early).

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Emma groaned and squinted up. Hook stood over her, dressed once more in his pirate regalia and seeming far too bright considering the time.

"I forgot you're a morning person," she muttered, her throat dry.

"I'm an any time of day person," Hook said with a shrug. Without preamble he sat himself down next to Emma and handed her a flask.

"Unless this is coffee I don't want it," she said, refusing to lift her arms from under the blankets. She was nice and warm now but willing to bet that the morning air was chilly.

"It's water," Hook said, screwing the lid off and offering it again. "We've got a busy day ahead of us, I recommend getting a start now."

Emma considered this. "Okay, but can 'now' be in like ten minutes?"

Hook grinned. He was unused to the tired, slightly pathetic Emma that morning always brought but he found it - and her - quite endearing. Besides, it put her entirely at his mercy.

"I will give you ten seconds," he announced, beginning to tip the flask precariously over her face. "After which, you'll be taking an impromptu bath."

"Try it and you'll be taking an impromptu death," Emma warned, eyeing the flask warily.

"Threatening one who's trying to be kind? Five seconds."

Emma held out for two more seconds before throwing the blankets off. "Fine! I'm up!"

Hook grinned, victorious. "Knew it'd work. I've had plenty of practice coaxing women out of my bed. Once they're in it, they never seem to want to leave."

Unable to think of an appropriate comeback, Emma snatched the flask from him with a "gimme that" and a glare. While Hook chuckled, she took a drink.

"So, our clothes are dry?" she asked when she had finished.

"Mine are. Yours, alas, were torn apart by wild dogs-"

"And now I'll have to walk around naked," Emma finished with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, Hook, if you're always this desperate then I don't see how you get women into your bed in the first place."

Hook raised an eyebrow, enjoying the challenge.

"Lie back down and I'll show you."

Emma stood up slowly, raised an eyebrow of her own and then walked off to find Mother Elena to check that her clothes were still intact.

"Thank you," she said, more grateful than she realised when a young girl handed her the neatly folded clothes a few minutes later.

They smelled of fresh air and something exotic, a spice perhaps although Emma couldn't pinpoint it. She breathed in the scent as she lowered the tank top over her head and then pulled her jacket on. She felt more in control of the situation now that she was dressed as herself again. No more distractions and no more weird fairytale crap unless it was Storybrooke-related.

She strode out of the tent filled with purpose and meaning. She was going to get back to Storybrooke, hug Henry until he was all hugged out and then find a way to get Mary Margaret back if she wasn't already. When Mother Elena approached her with the potion, Emma was more than ready to take it.

"Pour this in a circle large enough to fit the both of you," Mother Elena instructed, pressing the vial firmly into Emma's palm. "Step into the circle and find some way to connect yourselves."

"Don't even," Emma warned as Hook opened his mouth. Hook smirked but swallowed whatever he had been about to say.

"Hand-holding will suffice," Mother Elena continued, as though there had been no interruption. "Transporting two people is always a tricky business and you must try not to get separated." At Emma's nod, the old woman relaxed. "The potion will take you where you need to go. It will be as though you are in the center of a hurricane, though you will come to no harm within it."

"Hurricane?" Emma repeated, holding the bottle tightly.

"No harm," Mother Elena said with a smile. "Indulge an old woman in her craft."

They didn't really have that much of a choice, not that Emma voiced this concern. Instead she smiled back and embraced her.

"Thank you for freeing us," Mother Elena said. She held Emma in place as she whispered, "You can trust him," and then released her as though nothing had been said. While Emma was left to consider the whisper, Mother Elena moved on to the other companion.

"Crone," Hook acknowledged with a nod.

"Pirate," Mother Elena replied, the corners of her thin lips lifting.

"Pirate Captain," Hook corrected, although there was none of the antagonism of their earlier meetings. The pair were simply coming to the end of a mutually beneficial arrangement and there was no further need for pleasantries.

"If you find my Carolina," Mother Elena called after them as they walked into the forest, "please send her back to me."

"We will," Emma said, although it seemed that Carolina belonged to Mother Elena's fraying imagination. "I am so ready to get out of here," she muttered to Hook.

They walked for barely a minute, unwilling to go too far into the forest where the trees were clustered tightly together, and found a suitable space.

"Why do I get the feeling we might accidentally uproot the entire forest?" Hook asked as Emma poured out the potion. It soaked into the dirt but left a dim shine behind, indicating where they should stand.

Emma didn't reply, not wanting to acknowledge something she was also concerned about, and gestured for Hook to stand opposite her in the circle. She held out her hand, daring Hook to say something about other ways they could connect to each other, but he merely grinned at her and took her hand.

"Hold onto my shoulder," he said, stepping closer towards her.

"Why?"

"The trip might get bumpy and I don't want to accidentally slice your fingers off," he said, lifting his hook and adopting a sincere expression.

A low rumble started at their feet. Stray leaves and twigs quivered on the ground as dirt began to pick up around them. Emma quickly reached out for Hook's shoulder, feeling the cool leather on her palm.

"This is it, love!" Hook called as a whirlwind formed around them, whipping Emma's hair in every direction.

They both closed their eyes in anticipation of pain, although as Mother Elena had said the hurricane did not touch them and they felt only the lightest of breezes on their faces. The wind roared around them and Emma did not want to think what was going on outside of their cocoon. The ground underneath them shifted so that the pair nearly stumbled into each other, though they managed to maintain their balance. Emma silently thanked Hook for suggesting she hold onto his shoulder as the leather bunched under her tightened grip.

After only a few seconds more the hurricane died down and Emma opened her eyes expectantly. Hook raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she was alright, and Emma smiled in confirmation. Her smile faltered as she looked around. Tiny houses were dotted around, looking more like overgrown mushrooms than actual buildings. Vines clambered around the walls and onto the slanted roofs where flowers of bright yellow and green bloomed. Small faces peered through the windows of the houses and high-pitched whispers could be heard around. A platform that hosted a sparkling water feature took pride of place in the town square while patches of flowers and greenery popped up sporadically around it. Winding through the small town was a road made of yellow brick.

Emma made a low growl in the back of her throat. "You are kidding me!" She snatched her hand out of Hook's and twisted around wildly. "Hey!" she shouted to nowhere in particular, her head moving this way and that. "You sent us to the wrong place!"

Her voice faded in the town centre until only the tiny voices could be heard, whispering and tittering amongst themselves. Her heart slamming in her chest, Emma continued to dart her eyes around as though there was another portal nearby that would close at any moment.

"Emma, love…"

Hook approached her as carefully as if she was a lion (or tiger, or bear) that would turn on him. He paused as doors opened and small men and women came flooding out of the buildings. They pressed themselves against the outside walls of their homes, eager to see the newcomers but afraid to go near them. Curious about them but sensing that they were not a threat, Hook turned his attention back to Emma. She stared at the ground in a mixture of anger and desolation.

"Emma…"

He placed a gentle finger under her chin and lifted it so that she would look at him. He wished she could feel the warmth of another hand on her shoulder rather than the cold metal of his hook.

"We're not home," Emma murmured, entirely unnecessarily at this point.

"I know," Hook said, glancing around at the peculiar settlement. "We will find a way out of this place, but I need you to focus."

Emma looked at him and, fuelled by the belief in his eyes, crumpled up her sadness and despair and shoved it into the back of her mind. She would not fall apart at this latest set-back, even if thwarted hope was a punch to her stomach. She took a deep breath and nodded. She was no good to anyone if she was a crying heap on the floor.

"That's my girl," Hook said, smiling. Before Emma could question this, he withdrew his hand from her chin. "Any idea where we are?"

Emma nodded. "Oz."

"Oz?"

"As in the Merry Old Land Of."

To say Hook was unfamiliar would have been an understatement. His black clothes ensured that he already stuck out against the almost violent brightness of the town but coupled with the frown on his face and the way he absentmindedly reached for his sword it was clear that he was far removed from any semblance of understanding.

Meanwhile the Munchkins began to edge closer to the pair. The chubby men and women wore elaborate clothes and hats that gave them the illusion of added height, though most of them barely came up to Emma's waist. Emma was about to speak out to them when they pointed in unison to a spot over Emma's head. Their excited squealing grated on Emma's ears as she and Hook turned around.

"Is that a…?"

"Bubble," Emma confirmed, trying to remember The Wizard of Oz in order to avoid unpleasant surprises. "It's okay, this is in the story."

"What story?" Hook asked, his attention now on Emma. She did not reply; showing would be easier than telling.

The bubble drifted downwards and paused mid-air. After a second of stillness it dissolved into a shower of light and out stepped a woman whose dress Marie Antoinette would have deemed a little over the top. Amber ringlets fell down to her chest, framing a dainty, heart-shaped face. Her lips, painted a soft shade of pink, opened as she spoke to comfort the Munchkins.

"That dress is bigger than my cabin on the Jolly Roger," Hook said as the witch murmured assurances.

"Don't be jealous, we'll find you a dress that's just as pretty," Emma promised, earning a glare from the Captain that quickly turned into a smirk.

"I would be very intrigued to see what you look like in a dress like that. I do so enjoy roleplay."

"Great. You be the pirate and I'll be the woman trying not to strangle you in your sleep."

"Trust me, love, we wouldn't be sleeping."

The low tones in which they spoke could be considered intimate to an outsider and Emma was vaguely concerned with corrupting the Munchkins' minds. She watched as Glinda - who else could it be? - set the small creatures at ease and then straightened up with a curious look at the newcomers. With an entourage of Munchkins hiding behind her skirts (God knows there's enough room, thought Emma), she stepped forward. The movement, coupled with the elegant position of her arms, made it appear as though she was dancing.

"Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?" she asked Emma, her voice as light as glass.

Hook cut in before Emma could answer.

"Depends what kind of mood she's in, really." At Emma's glare, he quirked an eyebrow. "Bad witch, it would seem."

"I'm not a witch at all," Emma corrected before the Munchkins could panic. "I'm human, like Dorothy. Do you remember Dorothy?"

Glinda pouted her lips, furrowed her brow and tilted her head in an over-exaggerated this is what I look like when I think pose. Emma got the impression that the witch was always this theatrical, and mentally calculated how long she could put up with it before that pretty little wand in her gloved hand was getting snapped over Emma's knee.

"Don't force a headache on our account, love," Hook said, watching the witch with a bemused expression.

Emma decided to take a more helpful approach. "You know, Dorothy…she was from Kansas, she had a dog." She cast around for more defining features. "Uh, 'There's no place like home'?"

For Glinda, realization came in the form of a broad smile and hands clasped across her chest. Given the intricate details of her bodice, her fingers had to settle for resting two inches away from her skin.

"Dorothy!" the good witch beamed. "Oh, how is she?

"She's doing great," Emma said quickly, wanting to avoid discussions of a girl she didn't know. "You helped her get home. Can you help us?"

Glinda's smile did not waver. "You would need to see the Wizard."

Emma nodded. She had figured this almost the moment she realized where they were, but another day-long quest was not something she wished for. Hook, meanwhile, frowned.

"The who?"

"The Wizard," one of the Munchkins chipped in, peering from around Glinda's skirts. At Hook's continued blank look, the strange creature's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Why, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz! You'll find he is a whiz of a Wiz, if ever a Wiz there was!"

Hook stared, completely nonplussed by the alliterative turn in conversation. To see the Captain so far out of his comfort zone would have been amusing in any other situation, but Emma was already far past any notions of humor.

"Can you not just find us a couple of pairs of ruby slippers?" she asked Glinda, who was staring fondly at the Munchkins.

"Hm?" she asked, turning her wide eyes to Emma. "Ah, the ruby slippers. They're for decorative purposes now only, I'm afraid. Dorothy's legacy demands that no one but her shall ever wear them again."

"But they're here in Oz?" Emma asked, brushing Dorothy's legacy aside.

"Yes, in the Emerald City," Glinda said with an oblivious smile. "Once darling Dorothy left, the Wizard decided to commemorate the death of the Wicked Witch of the West by forever preserving the ruby slippers."

Emma nodded, a plan already forming. "Say I wanted to go and appreciate them. Where would they be?"

"Oh, they're on the tour!" Glinda said brightly.

Emma blinked. "The tour."

"Yes, in the Emerald City. We have quite the marvelous collection of items that citizens and visitors alike simply adore!"

Emma couldn't decide if this sudden turn towards capitalism was surprising or not. She now had to include the dull desire to make money in her list of Oz's unexpected qualities.

"I wish you luck on your journey," Glinda said, reaching out a hand as though she would caress Emma's cheek if she was close enough.

The hand dropped downwards and shoots of light sprouted at her feet, climbing over each other to conceal her in a bubble. The Munchkins practically fell over themselves waving farewell, almost drowning out Emma's protests that she still had questions.

"Great," Emma said, shaking her head as the witch's transport faded from view. "We're taking advice from a bubble."

"But not directions," Hook said, glancing thoughtfully around. "The witch mentioned Emerald City and the Wizard but not how to reach either of them. How do we find the Wiz-"

"Don't ask that," Emma interrupted, but it was too late.

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road!" one Munchkin piped up, her unnaturally high voice propelled even higher in eagerness.

Hook's attention was captured downwards.

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road," another advised.

Hook nodded. He was trying his best to take this in his stride. "Alright. Where-"

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road!"

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road."

Hook frowned at the surrounding Munchkins. "I would gladly, if you would only-"

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road, follow the Yellow Brick Road, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the Yellow Brick Road!"

Synchronized harmonies broke out across the town, high enough in parts to break glass. The Munchkins waved their arms and danced, twirling around each other in such obvious glee that Emma almost felt bad for the sheer level of unimpressed she was. Hook, it seemed, was torn between bewilderment and fear.

"Emma, they're singing."

"Yep."

"We're leaving."

"Yep." Emma gestured down. "Hook, meet the imaginatively named Yellow Brick Road."

Hook followed Emma's signal. If he was surprised to have been standing on it all along, he didn't show it. "Ah, yes. I didn't quite catch what we're supposed to do next…"

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road!" a Munchkin chipped in helpfully, breaking his song.

"It was sarcasm," Hook snapped, rounding on the creature.

"You really think they understand sarcasm?" Emma asked with a frown. "Come on, let's just go."

Hook complied, but only after adding Tiny Singing Man to his list of enemies. The Munchkins bordered the edge of the Road, clapping in time with their song. Their voices were too high-pitched to block out, as much as Emma and Hook tried.

"Are they going to do this all the way to the Emerald City?" Hook asked through gritted teeth, one cadence away from mass Munchkin murder.

"Just be glad they didn't have the time to bring out the marching band," Emma said, keeping her eyes fixed on the edge of the Munchkin town where they would leave their unwanted escort.

The pair trudged down the fabled Road with none of the wonder or sense of whimsy that previous travelers had felt. If anyone had asked the Munchkins to describe the couple, they may have been tempted to say "fed up", "annoyed" or even "miserable", except none of these occurred in the little Munchkin brains as being possible. After all, surely everyone was happy on the Yellow Brick Road?

It wasn't long before the decidedly unhappy Hook and Emma were met with a fork in the path.

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road," Hook muttered, peering down both roads which were identical in everything except direction. "Whose bright sodding idea was that?"

Emma's eyes wavered over the green fields which separated the roads. Though her face was expressionless, despair clawed at her chest. Another obstacle. A further delay which might cost her the chance of seeing her son. How safe was Henry from Regina? The Evil Queen would never hurt her son but she probably wasn't above using magic on him to make him forget things. Would Henry even remember Emma when she finally saw him again? And if Cora had somehow found a way back to Storybrooke…it didn't even bear thinking about. David couldn't fend off Regina by himself, let alone Cora, and if Rumplestiltskin had decided that it was in his favor to side with Regina then there might not even be a Storybrooke to go back to. Hopelessness was a weight on her chest, telling her that there was no point even bothering anymore.

"Go left," Emma said.

Hook turned to face her, perturbed by her listlessness. "Why?"

"Why not? It's not like we're going to get back anyway."

"Mother Elena said that the potion would transport us to where we needed to be." Hook shrugged, trying to find something that would comfort Emma. "Maybe we need to be here?"

The idea that more expectations had been placed on Emma was enough to snap her out of her moroseness and drive her into anger.

"No! I need to be back with my son, not hanging out with the goddamn Lollipop Guild!"

Tears of anger and frustration blurred her vision. She swiped at her eyes, determined not to cry in front of Hook. She was barely holding herself back as it was; she felt that one single tear would be all it took to break her completely.

"I won't give up," she said, reminding herself as much as Hook. "I can't give up, but I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this! Every time I think I've found the way home there's one more thing that turns into three more things and suddenly I'm in a different realm and still no closer to my son!"

Hook had never seen Emma so lost. For his own part, he felt equally helpless. He didn't know what to say to reassure her, didn't know if there was anything he could say. He had always been a big believer in fighting his way out a problem, and it had been many, many years since he had comforted a mother missing her son. He remembered holding Milah as she sobbed into his chest, whispering that she would return for Bae in a promise that never held weight in the light of morning.

"Emma, love, it'll be-"

"Don't you dare say 'okay'," Emma warned, taking a step away from him. "Things are so very far from okay! Henry is with Regina, Mary Margaret is with Cora and I'm here with you. You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place! If you hadn't fallen into that portal, I would be with Henry right now."

Her words, harsh and insidious and true, gave him pause. She didn't want to be held, she wanted to fight. While Hook had more than enjoyed their past spars, this was no time to get into another. They needed to conserve their energy for something more productive, even if that productivity only involved following a road.

"I understand that you're disappointed," he said slowly, "but you need to keep it together. You're not alone in this. You have me."

"Right," Emma scoffed with false amusement. "Three hundred years and still no success. You're the last person who'll be able to help."

The accusation hung in the air.

Walk away, Hook thought to himself even as his jaw tightened. She's just upset. He had killed men for less. Just walk away. Bloody ungrateful woman. The amount of times he could have double-crossed her by now. What, had she thought she was being cautious? Give her some time to calm down. If he had desired it, she wouldn't have even made it out of Wonderland.

"Your gratitude is, as ever, fully appreciated," he said, choosing an icy tone over hot-headed lashing out. "You take the left path and I will take the right, we'll see who reaches the Emerald City first. As you so rightly pointed out, I'm due a victory."

Hook began the descent down the path without another word. He had pegged Emma as many things, but never cruel.

Emma watched him go, refusing to acknowledge the guilt that was rising in the wake of her outburst. She had lashed out, yes, but at someone who deserved it. There had been nothing but truth in her attack. Was it her fault if Hook couldn't handle it?

Each step down the left path brought with it a new justification as to why she was right. She wasn't sure she actually believed any of them, but righteous indignation was a better fuel than hopelessness. She practically marched down the Road, only pausing for thought when another crossroad split the bricks apart. She hated to admit it but Hook would have made this journey bearable. More than bearable, he would have made it fun. Still, she was alone now and determined to get to the Emerald City first.

She was casting around for any clues as to which way to go when a figure in the fenced-off field, hanging on crossed wooden poles and dressed in shabby clothes, caught her eye. After an initial panicked thought that someone had strung a man up, Emma realized that she was in the presence of one of Oz's most famous residents. The Scarecrow. Emma grinned, partly at the absurdity of the encounter but mostly because now she had a guide. A guide who currently appeared to be asleep, but a guide nonetheless.

"How did you get back up there?" Emma murmured, approaching the strung up Scarecrow.

He hung limply, not acknowledging her presence. Well, she would just have to wake him up.

"Hey, uh, Scarecrow." She couldn't remember if his name had been given in The Wizard of Oz, or if he even had a name. "I need your help. You once helped Dorothy, remember?"

The Scarecrow's head snapped upwards, making Emma jump. He stiffened to attention, becoming taut against the pole to which he was strapped."Dorothy. Greek. Literally translated as "gift of god" from doron and theos, has many alternates such as 'Dorothea' or the reversed 'Theodora'."

Once the last carefully-enunciated syllable had left his lips, he slackened again.

"I…" Emma paused, utterly bemused. She decided to just accept it. "Right. Well, I'm Emma-"

The wooden poles creaked as the Scarecrow's weight lifted."Emma. German. From 'Erma', contraction of 'Ermentrude'."

"Yeah, that…that's probably true." What the hell is going on? "Listen, there are two roads here and I don't know which one will get me to where I need to be. Do you know where they go?"

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by. "The Road Not Taken", Robert Frost, 1916."

Emma shrugged, now lost in more ways than one. "Okay, well, unless you measure the foot traffic around here then that isn't all that helpful."

She half-expected the Scarecrow to reel off traffic statistics but he stayed silent. Where was the brave and clumsy Scarecrow from the stories? The one who had befriended and protected Dorothy? That was the help she needed, not an overstuffed bag filled with dictionary pages instead of hay.

Emma kicked the fence in frustration. There was no reaction from the Scarecrow (or from the fence, for that matter, although Emma's toes now hurt something fierce).

"The movie left out this fun little character trait," Emma muttered, throwing a murderous glance at the limp Scarecrow. "Probably because they knew it would be really annoying. I thought the Wizard was supposed to have given you a…brain…" She trailed off with a spark of realization and stepped forward, noting how the Scarecrow's head lifted and his eyes turned to her. Expressionless, they matched the impassivity of the rest of his face. Emma's voice turned soft and sad. "The Wizard gave you a brain. What happened to make it backfire so much?"

"The Wizard of Oz is the most powerful magician in the realm, outstripping the power of the Wicked Witch of the West and her various creations," the Scarecrow said, and although his words were still in the monotone of his previous statements, Emma understood that he was actually trying to tell her something.

"Outstripping the power," Emma repeated, trying to make sense of it. Her eyes snapped up to the Scarecrow. "You were one of the Wicked Witch of the West's creations, everything except your brain which the Wizard gave to you. But his magic is more powerful than hers…so, what, your brain is more powerful than the rest of you?"

Emma didn't understand. Surely the brain was the most powerful part of anyone? Yet she wasn't going around spouting knowledge like she was competing on a game show.

"'If we value the pursuit of knowledge, we must be free to follow wherever that search may lead us'. Spoken byAdlai E. Stevenson Jr."

Was it just Emma, or was the Scarecrow becoming more insistent? Emma cast her mind back to the movie in the context of knowledge. The Scarecrow wanted a brain. He literally made a song and dance about it. He went on a journey and the Wizard gave him a brain. What was Emma missing? She thought over the quote the Scarecrow had just given her.

"You wanted a brain so that you could have knowledge," she said slowly. "But the Wizard gave you a brain so powerful that it replaced all the other magic in you. Now you're nothing butknowledge. Is that right?"

"'The chief function of the body is to carry the brain around'. Quoted by Thomas Edison. On average, the human brain weighs three pounds and makes up two percent of the body's total weight."

Emma barely heard him. How soon after he received his brain had this happened? Days, weeks, months? It was horribly ironic. She knew how it felt to finally get the one thing you'd always wanted only for it to turn around and bite you. Or leave you, in her case.

"Did this happen to the others as well?" she asked, wondering how much of the story she knew had been twisted. "The Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion?"

The Scarecrow showed no signs of recognition.

"Lions are indigenous to sub-Saharan Africa and Asia. They are primarily nocturnal and can live from ten to fourteen years in their natural environment."

Emma was trying not to lose her patience. She should probably move on; the Scarecrow couldn't help her and she couldn't afford to waste time. Still, a horrified fascination kept her asking questions. Although maybe short, direct questions would complicate things less.

"Do you need me to cut you down?" Emma asked, setting her hands on the fence in case she needed to jump over it. She didn't actually have anything sharp with which to cut down the ropes, which could prove to be problematic.

"Scarecrows are mannequins dressed in human clothes. They are placed in fields so as to discourage birds such as crows or sparrows from feeding on the crops."

"That's a no then, huh. I guess you could always bore the birds away." Emma shrugged, taking her hands away from the fence. "Can you tell me the quickest way to the Emerald City? You know, without the definitions?"

Logically, the Scarecrow had no emotions and yet Emma could swear that he was faintly amused by her question.

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road," he replied simply.

Emma nodded with the resignation of one who has just had their time wasted.

"Well," she sighed, "at least you didn't sing it."

Fun fact #1: In the original novel by Frank L. Baum, the ruby slippers were silver. They were changed to ruby in the movie to take advantage of the fact that the film was in Technicolor.

Fun fact #2: One of the very first scenes I thought of for this whole fic was Emma and Hook walking away from the Munchkin town with "so fucking done" looks on their faces.

Fun fact #3: I listened to The Wizard of Oz soundtrack on repeat and now I think I'm insane.