A/N: If you're still with me, thank you! Things have been difficult in real life and I lost my way with this story, but you have been darlings for reviewing and messaging me to check things are okay. Thanks toonceuponamirror over on tumblr for helping me with a couple of upcoming plot points and to both her and Riv for spurring me on! Hope that this chapter isn't too rusty, enjoy (:

Emma examined the bruise that was forming on her arm. Trees here were surprisingly protective of their apples, a fact she had only remembered as she jogged away from a barrage of fruit. Her stomach protested its own emptiness but, on reflection, Emma knew it was probably for the best that she didn't eat anything that was enchanted. It hadn't worked out so well for her mother or her son and Emma wasn't thrilled about making a poisoned apple trifecta. If only Hook was here, she could use him as a tester.

With a pang of guilt, she wondered where he was. Had he run into any of Oz's weird and not-so-wonderful inhabitants? Maybe the Tin Man who cared too much, or the Lion who was too brave? She hoped that he wasn't hurt, especially since it had been her fault that they parted.

I really don't have the space in my head to worry about another person, Emma chastised herself, but the thought was not loud enough to drown out the gnawing concern. He was completely unfamiliar with this land and she had essentially cast him out by himself. It didn't matter that he was an infamous pirate Captain who was more than capable of taking care of himself…because, Emma realized, ability doesn't factor into worry when you care about someone.

Damn it. She cared about Hook. And not just because he could help her get back to Henry. She genuinely cared whether or not he came to harm, even if it was just a scratch. When the hell had that happened? Which part of Emma's idiotic brain had decided that she just didn't have enough people to worry about and decided to throw Hook in the mix too?

It isn't necessarily a decision that comes from the brain.

Emma picked up her pace. Hook was probably fine, but she would feel a hell of a lot better once they were back together and she could keep an eye on him. He really couldn't be trusted alone, after all. He'd probably been busy recruiting munchkins to help crew the Jolly Roger.

The sun was beginning to set when Emma came across a figure leaning face-first against a tree and practically screaming. She overcame her shock long enough to question why the trees weren't throwing apples at this guy, because he was way more annoying than she was. Her sense of indignation flickered and then died as a beam of fading sunlight filtered down through the tree and seemed to glint off the figure's back.

"Oh," Emma breathed as the realisation hit. She stopped in her tracks to stare at the Tin Man, who had yet to notice her. He wasn't as shiny as she had imagined. It was oddly disappointing. "Why are you crying?"

It probably shouldn't have been her first question but it was the one that made the most sense to ask. The Tin Man drew in a shaky breath and lifted his head from the bark. His expression was wracked with pain, his eyes squinted almost shut through his tears.

"I-I tried to-" His breath caught in a hiccup "-to stop him but he wouldn't…listen!"

Emma's mood plummeted. Who was "he"? Three guesses and the first two didn't count. Damn it, Hook.

"Stop him from doing what?" she demanded, stopping just short of grabbing the Tin Man and shaking him in her panic.

"The poppies are p-poisoned!" he wailed. "They stretch for fields and fields and he just walked straight towards them!"
Emma was sorely tempted to remove the Scarecrow's brain and give it to Hook instead. Even a faulty brain was better than the empty space Hook currently called a mind.

"That way?" she asked, jerking her head to the side.

A whimper was her response. Emma took this as an affirmative and nodded, gearing her body up for a sprint. She pushed herself onwards, faster, leaving behind the sobbing creature and his various issues. She did not have time to fret about anyone but Hook right now. Maybe if there was time later and she still possessed enough sanity, she would return and do her best to help.

Her boots smacked down onto the road, the only noise for what seemed like miles since she could no longer hear the Tin Man's sobs. She followed the twist of the road, coming to an abrupt halt when one bend led her to her destination. A blaze of red stretched out before her in a sea of poisonous poppies. Even without prior knowledge of their deadliness, they screamed Stay away! I'm dangerous! and Emma could only ask herself what Hook had been thinking trying to pass through them.

She did not have to scan the fields for long. A lump of black interrupted the flow of the poppies, not too far from where she stood. Hook's face was buried in the poppies, an obscuring wave of suffocation.

"No," Emma breathed, stood frozen and staring at the huddled mass of leather. "You idiot."

She stared at him for a moment that seemed to stretch into hours before taking a huge breath and lunging forwards. Hook could not have taken more than a few steps before collapsing; she should be able to reach him before having to take another breath.

He was supposed to be fine, she fretted as she fought her way through the poppies, careful to preserve air. He's a survivor, like me. I should never have let him…

She gripped his boots and heaved at the legs inside them. It was unceremonious, dragging him like this, but it was simpler than hauling him over her shoulder and carrying him. She had been working on her upper body strength before finding herself in the Enchanted Forest but she doubted she had the muscle to carry an unconscious, leather-clad pirate. Her lungs burned with the need for air but she did not dare steal even a breath until she had passed the last barricade of poppies back onto the Yellow Brick Road.

She dropped Hook's legs. They hit the bricks with a thud she would worry about later. Given that he did not so much as stir through all this, Emma took it that he was well and truly out for the count. She fell to her knees beside his prone form, hesitating for a moment out of sheer panic before her fingers scrabbled against the fastenings on his leather coat. Damn it, why did he have to wear something so complicated to remove? His image could go to hell; when they were back in Storybrooke she was buying him a coat with a zipper. A thin undershirt protected his barely moving chest. From what she remembered of the movie, the poppies were poisoned with a sleeping draught. These poppies seemed to have relaxed Hook to the point of near death. He was breathing, but only just, and the most important thing was to regulate that. Thank God she had been trained in CPR.

"Come on," she whispered, pumping his chest. "Come on, please wake up. Don't leave me here by myself. Come on."

She tilted his head back (trying not to wince at how it sagged as though he was a rag doll), pinched his nostrils and then parted his lips. Without a second thought she leant down over him. Her lips touched his and a pulse rippled through the air. Emma jolted away at the magic, breaking the connection and falling back on her palms. She shielded her face away, almost too afraid to look at whatever this latest catastrophe was.

She raised her head slowly to find a field of headless poppies in front of them. Her breath caught in her throat. She barely registered the shifting figure in front of her until it spoke in a low, scratchy voice.

"Emma?"

"Oh. Hey."

"What were you…did you just kiss me?" His mischievous smile faltered as he took note of the stunned expression on her face. He sat up and followed her gaze, making a soft shocked noise as he saw the field. "What did you do?"

"Wild guess? Magic." Emma allowed herself one more moment of bewilderment before turning back to Hook. "You okay?"

The Captain flexed experimentally. "Seems so." He cast a sly, sidelong glance at Emma. "There are worse ways to wake up."

Emma was in serious danger of blushing, a strange side-effect of the relief she felt at Hook's awakening. "Shut up. It wasn't a kiss."

Hook raised his eyebrows as he got to his feet carefully. "Your lips were on mine. I fail to see what else it could have been."

"It's called CPR," Emma said, feeling her cheeks beginning to burn. "You try and resuscitate the person by opening their mouth and blowing air in."

Hook smirked. "I'm not arguing with your kissing technique, love, there's no need to be defensive."

"I'm not-!" Emma cut herself off and forced herself to breathe. She mused on the irony of a technique called the kiss of life when it only made her want to kill.

Breathe. She wouldn't bite his head off for these jibes and in return they would be even for her previous cruelty towards him.

"Of course," Hook continued, oblivious to her internal bargain, "if you want to show me how you actually kiss then I am more than eager for a demonstration."

"How about I show you fifty ways to hurt you without drawing blood?" Emma asked. "That'll be a lot more fun for me."

"I'm not usually into 'pleasure and pain' but for you, darling, I am willing to make an exception."

"At this point, your pain would be my pleasure."

"Never let it be said that I don't know how to satisfy a woman."

It took a moment, but Emma's smile conceded her defeat. Being subjected to Hook's incessant use of innuendo was a price she was willing to pay if it meant having him around. Her confidence had returned with an almost swaggering intensity and she felt as though she could accomplish anything with him by her side.

They stepped their way through the ruined fields, each silently marvelling at how far the destructive force had spread. Even the swells and crests of hillocks had not prevented the magic from wreaking chaos.

"Did you even try to avoid the poppies?" Emma asked as they ascended the latest incline. It was steeper than the others had been and she found herself having to conserve her breath again.

Hook shrugged. "I thought the man of tin was lying when he told me to avoid them."

"Why would he lie to you?"

Hook's smile held an edge to it. "I've been to many different lands, love, and rarely have I encountered someone willing to help a traveller. I've been directed into traps, dead ends, and on one memorable occasion, almost off the edge of a cliff." He stopped walking once they had reached the small summit. "Survival instinct isn't exactly compatible with trusting strangers."

Didn't Emma know it. She stopped beside him, neither one of them voicing the ache that had begun to spread through their limbs. They needed food, rest and a vague idea of where the hell they were going. Luckily for them, they had found one hell of a vantage point.

From their place atop the hill they could see a grand city rising up in the distance, glimmering even in the early evening darkness. Beams of green light illuminated what Emma assumed to be the palace, a cylindrical construction of varying heights. It was an almost welcome relief from the traditional castles of stone she had recently traversed through, although its futuristic vibe prevented it from being comforting. A sheer cliff face bordered the road leading to the city, seeming to begin just as the poppy fields ended. A scattering of rocks lay either side of the Yellow Brick Road, creating a perfect place to hide behind. Emma should have been considering the dangers of some unknown enemy crouching behind those rocks, but her thoughts were only for leaning back against them and falling asleep.

"Emerald City, I take it," Hook said, drawing Emma out of her musings. He gave a nod of mocking approval. "Aptly named."

"Yeah, they didn't strain any brain cells there."

It didn't look too far, but when exhaustion seemed only a limited number of footfalls away any distance felt like more than Emma could handle.

"We'll take another break when we reach the rocks," she said, forcing herself to move forwards.

Hook fell into step beside her, though it was awhile before he spoke.

"You could have just left me there."

"No. I couldn't."

Hook looked over at her with a faintly curious expression as though she had raised a question he did not know how to answer. She avoided his gaze, even more so when he asked:

"Does that mean that you want me around?"

"Pushing your luck there, pirate." The jape did not raise the smile Emma had hoped. The conversation was stuck in the zone of serious expectancy. She shrugged, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess I want you around. Don't read too much into it."

"Wouldn't dream."

Emma wondered if she mistook the tiredness in his voice for bitterness, or the other way around. Their eyes always on the city ahead of them, they trudged through the fields in wearied silence. The sips from her canteen were becoming few and far between and even the flowers were beginning to occur to her as a food course.

"If being the Savior doesn't work out you have a promising career as a gardener," Hook said, passing the final rows of dead poppies with barely a hint of unease.

"Exterminator, you mean," Emma muttered. She felt a small sense of relief when her feet met with the Yellow Brick Road once more, but for the most part her thoughts remained with her inadvertent magic. "I don't know how I did this."

Hook hesitated for the slightest moment and then shook his head. "Nor I. Maybe the Wizard will give us answers."

"I don't trust the Wizard as far as I can throw him," Emma scoffed. Hook did not ask her to provide logic behind her reason, most likely because he felt the exact same way. They limped along the road in silence until Emma realised she needed something to distract her from her tiredness. Conversation was as good a thing as any. "Speaking of the natives, you met the Tin Man."

"I did, yes." Hook raised his eyebrows. "Interesting chap."

"That's one word for it. Not the one I'd use, but…"

"I take it he's in a character in the tales of your world?"

"More or less." It had been a bad choice of topics; it would take too long to explain the deterioration of the Scarecrow and the Tin Man in terms that Hook would understand, and they were now amid the crop of rocks Emma had seen from their vantage point. "I'll explain tomorrow. This looks like a good place to stop."

She stepped off the road and onto the soft grass, already imagining closing her eyes and drifting away.

Hook took a slow, deliberate look at their surroundings. "It's a rock," he said slowly.

"Yeah, but it looks like a good rock." She patted her makeshift resting place. "Solid, and…and rocky."

Hook's even stare questioned her sanity, but in the end even he could not argue with the idea of a break from walking.

For all that Hook watched the lights of Emerald City, he could not rid himself of the sight of dead poppies. He had a theory on what had beheaded the flowers but it was too ridiculous to bother mentioning aloud. All he knew was that Emma had kissed him and there had been a magical reaction, a force powerful enough to break the curse of the poppies. How could a simple kiss have that much power? Unless, of course, it was more than a simple kiss. Unless it was the type of kiss with the power to break any curse. But no, he reminded himself. It was ridiculous. Emma could barely stand him, she certainly wasn't…and besides, Milah was his true love.

"Are you sure you can take the first watch?" Emma asked, her voice hazy in her struggle against sleep.

"You just sleep," Hook said. Through his exasperation at her stubbornness, there was a small and amused speck of appreciation for it. "I'll take care of us."

He had said it unthinkingly but it struck a nerve with Emma. Her face hardened and she sat up straighter.

"I can look after myself."

Unlike the previous times she said it, the words now carried a heavy weight and responsibility. She was trying to put a distance between them again, and Hook had ran out of patience to simply sit back and watch her reconstruct her walls.

"When I say I want to look after you, it isn't meant as an implied weakness on your part nor a show of masculinity on mine," he said. "I want to protect you because you are worth keeping safe. You are precious."

He released the words into the night for her to embrace or dismiss as she chose. She was silent for so long that Hook thought he had failed. He would try again tomorrow, of course, but he was done for now.

He had just closed his eyes when Emma shuffled closer to him, and in a halting, jerky motion leaned against his side. Though it had been on her terms, she seemed too tense to relax properly. Hook took the initiative he prayed she wanted by settling down by her side. His comfort seemed to ease her.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said quietly. "And I shouldn't have said those things about you not being any help." The reminder of the fight hung awkwardly in the air. "I guess I just wanted to blame someone other than myself for this mess of a situation."

"It's forgotten," Hook assured. "People do rash things in the name of loss. I ran away to Neverland for three hundred years."

"I can't imagine living that long," Emma murmured. "Before Henry came along I couldn't always imagine living to the end of the week."

"We all need someone who makes us want to fight."

Emma made a soft noise of assent. She would most likely deny this moment come the first light of morning but that didn't matter. Hook knew it was real, and that was enough for now.

"We shouldn't split up again," Emma murmured as she drifted off to sleep. "That was a bad plan."

"Agreed," Hook said with a soft chuckle. He liked the weight of her against his side, the strands of hair that contrasted so brightly against the black leather of his coat. He was unused to such an intimate setting, although over the course of his long life he had learned to redefine intimacy. It was no longer the meeting of two bodies in sweat and groans and clenched fingers around sheets; how could he say he had been intimate with someone when he barely recalled their name the moment they were done? This quiet, undefinable sense of trust seemed more personal to him than a naked body. Although he wouldn't mind seeing – no. He had a good, gentlemanly thing going. He wasn't going to spoil it now by retreating to his baser instincts.

The city of Oz was enough of a distraction. He liked to think he could hear the far off sounds of a brass band playing, though this was more likely to be his imagination creating scenarios to amuse him. Even with Emma's prior knowledge of this land, there was no telling what they would find in the palace. Probably not the ruby slippers, judging on how things had so far panned out for them, but then they were due some good luck. Maybe the fates would smile on them, for once.

A soft whimpering sound was Hook's only warning before Emma jerked awake. She huddled closer into him, her breaths coming quick and ragged.

"Hush Emma, love, it's alright," Hook said, watching as she shook her head against the imaginary fears. "It was a nightmare."

"A nightmare," Emma repeated. She nodded, her eyes already drooping to a close. "That explains the dancing giraffes."

"Promise you'll tell me in the morning," Hook said, but sleep had dragged her back under.

After a small hesitation he pressed his lips against the top of her head. How good it felt to have someone other than himself to care for.

A/N: Headcanon is that the poppies wouldn't have affected Emma anyway because of her magic. Episode three airs in a couple of hours, enjoy!