A/N- Sorry for the delay. Hopefully, the cutesy CS moment in this chapter makes up for it. Lot's happening here internal thoughts-wise, not a whole lot of action. That will come later... ;)

Again, I thank everyone for reading and commenting. I so love to hear what you think might happen with Emma or Killian in this story. I hope there's some good clues as to where it's heading in this chapter!

I can't wait to hear from you, so please review!

CHAPTER 5

As drained and exhausted as he was, Killian knew he would get no sleep tonight. The sheer relief he had felt when he had come upon Emma's unconscious body in the woods couldn't outweigh the cold knot of fear that began when he saw her face as she held her son and talked to her parents. Something terribly wrong was happening to her. Although he was undeniably grateful that she was at least back safe and sound, he was more positive than ever that whatever had occurred to her while she was gone was far from over.

That meant that someone had been responsible for all of this. Someone had tied her up and inflicted some sort of pain upon her. Someone had planned all this for some kind of nefarious reason. And he knew that someone had to be the Crocodile.

Just thinking about the Dark One made every muscle in his body lock tight. Like a plank of wood, he stared at the ceiling, unable to find comfort in his own bed. At best, Gold made him agitated. At worst, Gold made him murderous. Now, Killian was teetering precariously on the ledge between the two.

The question became what would he do if he came face-to-face with Gold again? Before, he had put his vengeance aside to prove to Emma (and himself) that he could be the type of man she deserved. A man of honor. But really, where had that gotten him? Gold had nearly killed Emma, he had stolen his heart and forced him to do unspeakable things, and he had very nearly died.

The Dark One needed to be stopped, once and for all, before he could hurt anyone else.

And now, Killian finally had the means in his grasp. He had the dagger. Everyone would be safe, now and forever, from the schemes and plots of that imp. The only problem was, killing Gold with the dagger would mean the murderer would have to take his place as the next Dark One.

Killian was afraid to die, or to kill. He never had been. But killing Gold and taking his place would mean not only breaking his promise to Emma, but possibly reverting back to his old self. Captain Hook at his worst made infinitely more powerful with the Dark One's magic. Would he be able to withstand the pull of dark magic? Could he resist temptation and keep the people he cared about safe from himself? Rumpelstiltskin, the coward, had never been able to shake free, even with the unconditional love offered him by his Belle. What would make him any different?

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair and down along his face. He could feel the sore bruise of exhaustion under his eyes. Was this why he had taken so many precautions hiding the dagger? Had he suspected that there might come a day where he would be tempted to use it? Like a true pirate, the dagger could only be reached by a complicated process, with multiple booby traps, false leads, and dangerous obstacles. As good as he was, he would have a difficult time recovering it. Right now, he was glad of it, because the way his rage was starting to become harder to ignore meant that it was only a matter of time before he would go after it.

He could only hope Emma could defeat Gold before that could happen.

Fuming and frustrated, Killian shifted his body, trying to find any comfort he could. He was having to constantly fight his own warring mind to remind himself that he couldn't afford to go back down that dark path again. He had a life here, with friends, with people who needed him. Those connections he had longed for all his life. He had Emma. And she needed him. There had to be a way to find out what was wrong with her, to help her get back to the place where she was before. She was just starting to accept that she could be happy with him, that she had people in her life who truly loved and cared for her. She had hope again.

Knowing rest would never find him this night, Killian did something he hadn't done in months: He needed a drink. As he searched his room for his flask, he realized he hadn't felt the need, really, since that night at Granny's when they shared that kiss and she finally acknowledged her affections towards him. Finding the flask tucked into a drawer containing his undergarments, he wasted no time downing the familiar liquid. It had been so long, the rum actually burned as it went down. It wouldn't take much to becalm his heart and allow him to block out his thoughts.

He returned to bed, flask in hand, and once more stared at the ceiling. His eyes grew heavy and just before he drifted off, he made himself a promise: No matter what the cost to himself, he would do everything in his power to ensure that Emma never lost hope again.

And gods help the person (or crocodile) that stood in his way.

….

Gold sat alone in an abandoned shack, far into the forest and away from anyone who might come snooping. The glass orb spun lazily just above the wooden table where he sat. With a wave of his hand, a fire blazed to life in the hearth, but he barely felt the heat.

The opalescent smoke inside the orb was now streaked with thin strands of black, the two colors diametrically opposed as they swirled about. He had been watching it for hours, ever since leaving Miss Swan in the woods. Hypnotized by the ebb and flow, he became lost in his thoughts. Belle. The dagger. Bae. Power. Magic.

Deep frown lines etched themselves around his mouth. He needed to be free. He needed to get his wife back. To rewrite his story so that he was the hero for a change. He couldn't let it end this way, with him broken and alone. He was the Dark One! Yes, the curse was working, but it was going far too slowly for his limited patience. And if the smiles he had seen Belle throwing that dirty thief were any indication, the next phase couldn't start too soon. Unfortunately, it relied upon three witches who would rather kill him than trust him. Luckily, their betrayal was essential to his plan.

All he had told the ladies was to find a way to befriend Emma Swan, to get her to trust them, and then to convince her that magic was power. However, they didn't know Miss Swan like he did. She would never trust them on her own, she would have to be convinced of their sincerity by more than just words. And nothing would bring two foes together more than a shared threat. Neverland had proved that to him.

That was one of the reasons he had freed the Chernabog in the first place. The creature would be a significant enough danger that Emma could easily be persuaded to use her magic a bit more liberally. And that was the key. The more she relied on her magic, the more she would be tempted by it, and the more the darkness would take root. It would then be a simple enough matter to turn her against the people she loved.

Gold smirked to himself, snatching up the orb and stowing it safely away in his pocket. Now that he knew exactly what to do, he couldn't wait to get started. And the joy of breaking the pirate's heart before he killed him would just be icing on the proverbial cake.

Summoning up his powers, Gold flung open the cabin door. He had work to do.

Just before dawn, Emma awoke. For some reason, being at home in her parent's loft was making her feel irritable, almost like a headache starting just behind her eyes. She just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Not in her own bed, in her own clothes, or even in her own skin.

Scrunching up her face, she peered through the curtains to watch the first rays of dawn lighten the Eastern sky. Normally, watching the sunrise (while extremely rare) brought her a sense of peace that nothing else could. A reminder that the day had not yet been written and that good things could still happen. She supposed her mother's optimism must finally be rubbing off on her.

But not today. Right now, she would give anything for a greyed-out, stormy day. One that matched her mood.

Slipping from her bed, she made her way to the bathroom, careful not to make any noise to wake her parents, because the very thought of Mary Margaret's wide-eyed optimism, or David's fatherly concern was making her cringe. She took a quick shower, dressed in an outfit she hadn't worn since first arriving to Storybrooke, and took a good long look at herself in the mirror.

What was wrong with her? She shouldn't dread talking to her parents. And the way she felt as Henry hugged her? That wasn't the way a good mother was supposed to react. Was this all because of what happened to her in the woods, as Killian suspected, or was this just all her past insecurities finally catching up to her? It wouldn't be the first time. How many times had things been starting to feel right, to feel perfect, only to get derailed when her internal alarms started telling her to run, to not trust because it was only a matter of time before she got burned again?

So was that what all this was about? Was she just protecting herself again? And if so, what was she going to do about it?

Every time she felt this way in the past, she had run. She had closed herself off, and just flew. Yes, she had told Killian she was tired of living in the past, told her son that she wasn't going anywhere, and at the time, she had really thought she meant it. But maybe she had just been lying to herself. Maybe she was just destined to be alone after all.

She sighed and scrubbed at her face with her palms. When her cheeks were red and her eyes cleared of any trace of tears, she felt a deep longing to share her pain with the one person who would understand. Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration. Closing her eyes, she focused on him, on her need to see him, until she felt the rush of magic through her skin. As her fingers sparked, she noticed that the irritability and headache were gone. It was like she was her old self again. Scratch that. Using her magic made her feel even better. Giddy almost.

Hmm. Maybe having magic is like drinking a lot of coffee, and when you don't use it enough, you go into withdrawals. She made a mental note to ask Regina about that later. Right now, she had someone else she needed to see.

When she looked up, the mirror in front of her shimmered as the image was replaced with a familiar floral-wallpaper scene. And there he was, lying on his bed, facing away from her. Strangely, he was still wearing his clothes from the night before and there was a tension in his shoulders that Emma could tell meant he had probably dropped from exhaustion and not from any normal desire to rest. What was that about? He seemed fine when I left. She searched out his emotions through the connection, but couldn't get a read on him.

She frowned, and felt her heart ache for him. "Killian," she whispered, calling softly through the mirror. As if expecting her, he immediately flipped around, eyes bloodshot and weary.

"Swan?" He gasped, clearly not expecting her to be 'magic'ing herself through a mirror into his room this early in the morning. Normally, he'd greet her with a snarky come-on, but all she got this morning was a "Bloody hell!"

She giggled at him and all his irritation melted into an exasperated sigh. "Not that I don't appreciate seeing your beautiful visage upon awaking, but a little bit of warning may be in order next time."

She smirked. "Aw, did I frighten the mean old pirate?"

Killian massaged the crease in his brow, but offered her a ghost of smile, "If seeing you smile at me like that means I'll never be able to let down my guard, then it's a cross I'm willing to bear. But why not come here and see what kind of a revenge this 'mean old pirate' can inflict. It's not nice to taunt a pirate, love."

Batting her eyes playfully, she licked her bottom lip. "Maybe not, but it sure is fun." She trailed a finger along the glass of the mirror, outlining his image within it, purposefully not looking at him. She sighed as if she was bored. "And I can't come over there, I have to get ready for work."

"Swan—" Killian growled, clutching at his bed clothes to keep from springing up and inadvertently smashing the mirror in an attempt to ravage her. "Bad form, tempting a man with no means of reciprocity."

"Jones, it's bad form to be so damn tempting," she mocked.

Killian's eyes went dark, and he growled again, louder. "Swan, while this diversion has been quite entertaining, I must insist upon inspecting the real thing."

"Insist, eh?" She pouted, loving the way she had him wrapped around her finger. "How are you going to do that? I'm shuttered up tight here at Chez Charming. You're aaaaallllllllll the way over at Granny's…" As she drew out her words, her fingers traced slow, suggestive patterns onto the glass.

"Swan—" he whispered.

"Plus, I don't feel like going out in this weather," she sighed, glancing through the window at the perfectly sunny (and no doubt warm) day. "But if you come here, you know my father would have no problem arresting you for disturbing the peace. Especially since he and mom haven't been getting much sleep lately. And Henry's here."

"Swan—"

"But I suppose I could be persuaded, say with coffee and pancakes, to come over to your place, even though..."

"Emma!" Killian barked, forcing her to look at him. As she did, she suddenly saw a flash of banked fire in his eyes and a twinkle of mischief, before she was overcome with an image (a very lifelike and colorful image) of her being carted out of her loft like a rum barrel over his shoulder, while she flailed and kicked, and he laughed darkly. The image kept shifting. At first, he threw her up against the wall outside of his apartment and ravaged her until she couldn't stand. Then, he was taking her against the mast of his ship, as she was screaming for more. And just when she thought she had regained some semblance of control over the fantasies he was barraging her with, she swore she could feel the ghosting of his hands along her inner thighs and over her stomach. Through it all, she hadn't been able to move, hell, she had hardly been able to breathe, and was only remaining upright due to her iron grip on the granite countertop. "Oh, god. Killian stop, oh please. I'm not…"

She whimpered and begged and clenched her thighs together, but nothing helped and now all she could see was Killian's smug grin. "I warned you, lass. You knew you were playing with fire." She wanted to attack, to send her own assault his way, but her brain was refusing to cooperate.

"Damn it, Jones, how the hell am I supposed to make it over there now? I can't even walk." She said, letting her face show just how much torture she was in.

Instantly the ghostly touches and erotic imagery ceased, leaving her feeling empty and cold.

"Ten minutes, Swan," he commanded.

Her face twisted into a cocky smile. "I'll be there in five."

Perhaps it was the buzz of her magic, perhaps it was her pirate and his oh so vivid of an imagination, but Emma felt lighter than air. Like she could literally fly if she wanted to.

Emma's good mood persisted through breakfast at Granny's, with Killian sitting across from her sipping his coffee and occasionally giving her smug little grins (while she kept blushing from memories of the mornings activities), all the way until entering the Sheriff's Station and hearing her father fielding calls.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand that you are worried, and I assure you, we are doing all we can to minimize the threat."

There was a long pause on his end while David rolled his eyes and raised a hand at her in greeting before he continued, "Well, let me just say that as far as I know, the monster was not after the food supply. I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to get your groceries, taking reasonable precautions that is."

Another pointed pause. Emma can almost hear the whiny buzz of the voice coming from the other end of the phone. Walking past him into her office, she gathered her files instead, checking to see if she had any messages on her desk. Already, she felt the headache trying to rear its ugly head.

"Yes, of course. No, no," David ran a hand through his hair, "you have a nice day, Mrs. Sprat." He hung up the phone with slightly more force than was necessary.

Emma shook her head, the pressure behind her eyes returning. Honestly, why was she the Savior again? Why was she bothering to save these ungrateful people when all they did was bitch and moan about it?

There was a knock on the door, then David swung his head inside her office. "You go out for breakfast this morning?"

She nodded, pretending like she was looking over an important file so that she wouldn't have to explain herself. Again.

His eye twitched, but luckily, he didn't press her for any details. "Any news about the hell beast? Or Maleficent?" She was too busy avoiding him to see his frown when mentioning her name. "Or Gold? Leroy, Doc, Tom, and Anton have finished their patrols, but haven't found any sign of the thing. The merry men think they spotted some sort of trail near where you were taken, but so far, nothing's panned out." He sighed and picked at the door frame.

"Have you talked to Belle today?"

She shook her head, pinching her brow to relieve some of the ache.

"So we still don't know what it was." Turning to the side, he leaned back against the door, lost in thought. "Do you think there's a connection here? It's a bit of a strange coincidence all of this happening at once, right? I mean, first we have a report of Gold being back, which we can't prove. Then, freaking Maleficent is released. Now, some sort of unnamed monster attacks you. I just don't like any of this."

She shrugged noncommittally. For some reason, the sound of his voice, the tone of his words was a bit like a nail running over glass. It made the nerves in her spine clench painfully. All she could do was to continue her ruse of sorting through the reports and hope he wouldn't find out she was trying to ignore him.

He continued to stand at the doorway, never even noticing her continued silence.

Rolling her neck to relieve the tension that was mounting, Emma sighed. "This is a waste of time."

For the first time, David really looked at her, took in her pained expression and started giving her that puppy-eyed, 'talk to me' look that was making her dig her nails into her palms. With a slight smile, he said, "Emma, come on. We'll figure it out. I know you're worried about everyone, but we're all working on it and I'm sure we'll keep the town safe."

She nearly snorted in her coffee. That's what he thought she was upset about? Protecting the town? God, sometimes she wondered how he could call himself her father when he didn't really know her at all. "I'm going on patrol," she announced, grabbing her keys and coffee and striding for the door.

To his credit, he didn't try to stop her. "Okay. Be careful."

Without turning, she replied, "I'll be fine." For some reason, her lips twitched up into a smile. Unlike you.

…..

The patrol around town did little to quell her irritation. If anything, it only furthered it. Walking around was really just confirming her opinion of the people in this town. Most that she passed looked frightened and edgy. An occasional few gave her a terse nod, as if she was somehow responsible for all the monsters and magic that kept uprooting them and didn't want to piss her off. It sort of made her feel…like a villain.

Why was she the Savior again? Had she really ever saved anyone? No. All she did was break a stupid curse. Yet, it was like everyone expected her to wave a magic wand and poof away their problems.

They needed to deal with their own problems. Why did she have to be the one to fix everything? What had it gained her anyway? Being 'The Savior' meant growing up an orphan. Being 'The Savior' meant Neal had left her. Being 'The Savior' meant that her life was constantly on hold, that she was never allowed to just be happy.

Did they even appreciate all that she did for them?

Help us! We need a savior. Who cares if she has to grow up alone and unloved? Oh, no, the Snow Queen's going to destroy the town! Better call Emma. Never mind that she has to watch a woman she once cared about kill herself. Oh, the Wicked Witch is here! Well, Emma, why don't you just give up a near perfect life in New York so that you now have to forcibly remind yourself that Regina's fake memories are not your own every time you look at your son?

God, it was a miracle she could make it out of bed in the mornings.

Sighing deeply, she knew she was being unfair. Most of the town was filled with good people who she genuinely cared about and knew cared about her. But some days, like today apparently, she just wanted to be a little selfish for once.

She continued to walk around, not paying the slightest attention to where she was headed. She was just glad to feel the burn in her legs to help distract her from the headache. As she ran a hand through her wind-blown hair, Emma looked up just in time to crash into a woman walking the other way down the sidewalk. The bag of groceries she was carrying scattered and Emma hit the pavement with a bone-jarring thud. Emma hissed as she looked at the scratches on her palm and knees. Great. Just the perfect ending to a crappy day.

"I'm so sorry," the woman cried, holding out a hand to help Emma up, "I was on my phone and just…I'm so sorry." The tone was warm and sincere and Emma accepted the woman's help reluctantly. Emma took in her appearance, her kelp green jacket, camo colored pants, blonde-brown hair, and dark brown eyes, but didn't recognize her.

"It's alright, I was wrapped up in my head and wasn't watching either," Emma mumbled, bending over to help retrieve the lady's spilled groceries. She placed a couple of oranges into the bag and went to retrieve the canned tuna.

Suddenly, the woman stopped her gathering and stood up, straightening her scale-like jacket and asked, "Aren't you Emma Swan, the Savior?"

Flinching, Emma quickly dumped off her pile of food and dusted her hands on her torn jeans. "That's me. I guess my reputation really does precede me," she replied bitterly.

The woman didn't seem fazed and merely offered her a polite smile. "Actually, I've been looking for you."

Suddenly, Emma's defenses went up. She crossed her arms and took a more appraising look at this woman. She seemed confident and tough, her dark brown eyes meeting Emma's own with easy surety.

Noting Emma's posture, the woman shrugged and said, "Name's Ursula."

Emma snorted, because really, she should be used to this by now. "Okay. So where's Flounder?" She snarked.

Ursula gave her an ugly glare, crossing her arms. "You know, I'm quite aware how this world portrays me. It's repulsive and unflattering."

Instantly, Emma felt ashamed of her assumptions and apologized. "So, why were you looking for me?" Emma asked, trying to get this conversation back on more even footing.

For a second, Ursula's eye shifted away, and Emma smiled to herself. Gotcha. "I met an old…well, I suppose friend isn't quite an appropriate term…. Let's just say, I met someone in New York who knows you," she sighed. "Goes by Mr. Gold nowadays. Although, when I knew him, it was Rumpelstiltskin."

"You met Gold in New York? What were you doing in New York?" Emma demanded.

Lifting her chin defiantly, Ursula replied, "I live there, have for many years. That stingy bastard actually convinced me to let him stay at my place. Ate all my food and never paid for a damn thing. Frankly, I should have let him freeze to death on the streets." Ursula added, shifting the grocery bag to her other hip.

"Why didn't you?"

The sea witch's eyes darted away again, and she pursed her lips. "Truthfully? I was intrigued. He kept spouting all his usual bullshit about grand plans and happy endings. I know I shouldn't have after last time, but…well, I believed him."

Emma narrowed her eyes. Nothing this woman had told her had been a lie so far. So what was she playing at? Was she a villain, like her story said? Emma had learned enough to know that not all supposed villains really were bad. And really, she didn't know much about her story anyway. The lady before her didn't strike Emma as being particularly villainous, unless she planned on cooking dinner for the town and serving them poisoned food. Still, she was involved with Gold, and that set off all of her alarms.

"So you're working with Gold now? Is that why you're in Storybrooke?"

Drumming her free hand against the grocery bag, Ursula replied haughtily, "Look. I'll admit, I bought what the imp was peddling. I mean, it sounded nice…getting my happy ending and all that. But the more time I spent with him, the more he talked, the more I could tell he had finally lost the rest of his tiny little mind." She looked up, meeting Emma's eye once again. "There was one thing he said, though, that stuck with me. He kept talking about this town. How villains could find redemption here. Even acceptance. And then, he talked about you. How you were 'The Savior,' how it was your destiny to bring back the happy endings. I don't know," she shrugged. "I thought I should come and check it out for myself."

"So, you're here to what? Start over? Make up for all the bad stuff you've done?" Emma scoffed, but not unkindly. It was more that she really wasn't sure it should be this easy.

"Why not," Ursula answered with a small shrug. Her eyes were still trained on Emma and she could see something achingly familiar in them. Something she recognized in herself. "You have to understand, the 'bad stuff' I've done, wasn't really something I had control over. Did you know my father is a god? Triton, God of the oceans. Making deals for souls, that's just part of our make-up. I'm not proud of it, but I'm stuck here now, and I've seen how much it sucks to be on the other end of those deals."

"So what's your happy ending then? Because if you're here to harm anyone…" She trailed off leaving the rest as a vague implied threat.

Now, the sea witch looked completely offended. With a loud, defensive voice, she replied, "I've been here a week, Miss Swan. Have you seen me or heard a peep from me? I'm not here to cause problems for the people of Storybrooke. I'm here for myself."

Emma swallowed. She hated that she was beginning to believe this woman, especially since she really knew nothing about her, but there was only truth and sincerity in her words. Didn't she owe it to her to give her the benefit of the doubt at least? "Okay. I get it. You're going to play nice. Still, it doesn't tell me why you need me?"

"I want to help. I want to prove myself to you, because there are always going to be people who look at me as a villain because of my past. And if I can win you over, convince the Savior, well, maybe I can prove to everyone else that I really have changed." It was a pretty heartfelt speech, and Emma couldn't help but be moved. It sounded eerily similar to the thoughts of both an ex-pirate and ex-Evil Queen that she knew.

"But why go against Gold? Why come to team Hero?"

Ursula's eyes flashed in anger. "That man broke a deal with me many years ago and was responsible for my banishment to this realm. I want to see him pay for it."

In shock over the vehemence of the sea witch's words, Emma replied, "Okay. What can you do to help us?"

"I know about the monster that attacked you. It's called the Chernabog."

A little warning ticked off in Emma's head. "Wait! Did you have anything to do with the attack?"

"No," Ursula denied, rolling her eyes. "That was all Gold. Part of his rambles in New York involved a plan to release that creature and force it to go after the people he wanted revenge on."

Emma shoved her hands into her back pocket to keep from digging her nails into her already injured palms. "How is he doing that? Controlling it? And how can we stop it? Regina and I both went up against it and we were no match for it."

"When you were fighting the Chernabog, did you notice a collar?" She paused a moment in thought before adding, "Maybe a belt?"

In Emma's memory, the creature floated above her, glowing reds eyes, large leathery wings, and a bright metallic object around its waist. "A belt! There was definitely a belt."

Ursula nodded. "That's the physical manifestation of Gold's control. If you can destroy the belt, you'll break his hold and the beast will be free to return whence it came."

Questions circled Emma's head. "Won't it just go after people at random then?"

"No, that's not how the Chernabog works. A creature like that is made to go after only those with the most potential for dark magic."

Dark magic. Who in town had dark magic that might get hurt? There was only one name she could think of. "Gold. Are you saying it would go after Gold?"

The sea witch sighed, pushing back her long curls, and shifted her bag again. "I don't know. But it won't hurt anyone without magic and it won't hurt good people."

"So how do I destroy this belt?"

Suddenly, the air around them grew colder. Darker. "Magic. Strong, confident magic," Ursula replied with a flash of something in her eyes.

Emma bit her lip. True, she had gotten much better with her magic, it was easier to access and control. But there were limits to what she could do. Strong, confident magic. She had already tackled the Chernabog before and failed, how could she go up against it again?

As if reading her mind, Ursula, held out her hand, "Hey, um, you know, I could teach you. And before you protest, let me just say that this isn't a deal or anything. I just want to help you reach your potential. You know, I've been around a long time. Seen a lot of magic users. I know that you have great power within you. You could be doing so much more."

Emma scoffed at the notion. Sure she had been told of her potential before, but that didn't mean it was true. "Yeah? But doesn't all magic come with a price?"

Smiling, Ursula placed a warm hand on Emma's arm. "Not light magic. Not people born with a natural talent like yours. I mean, that's like saying you pay a price for breathing or eating. Your magic is as essential to you as both."

"Tell that to an obese person. But I get what you're saying." Emma noticed the slightly crest-fallen look on the woman's face. She just wanted to help, Emma reminded herself. "I'll think about it," she added with a sincere smile of her own.

"Alright. Fair enough. Look, let me give you my number. Should you need my help on anything, or you reconsider my offer, call me."

Quickly agreeing, Emma typed in the number Ursula rattled off into her phone.

"Thank you." Flushing lightly, the sea witch stepped back. In a small, hesitant voice, she added, "Um, Emma, there's just one favor I have to ask of you. Is there… Could you please keep this meeting just between us? Like I said, people will judge me based on my reputation and I want the chance to prove myself first."

Nodding, Emma agreed. "Thanks for the tip off about Gold and that Cherna-thing. I really will think about what you've said, I promise."

"That's all I ask," Ursula replied, scooping her bag up and nodding a farewell.

Emma watched her walk away, replaying the conversation on a loop until she was convinced of the woman's sincerity. Still clutching her phone, she sent off a text to Belle about the Chernabog and asked her to look into it. As she noticed the time, Emma realized she had been out most of the day and her shift was nearly over.

Reluctantly she headed back to the station. Talking with Ursula had actually made her feel quite a bit better about her situation. The headache had retreated and her thoughts had stopped spiraling. Perhaps all she needed was a direction again. A way to fight back.

She would need to practice her magic. Maybe Ursula's offer was real. Yes, Regina could teach her a lot, but sometimes, it was still awkward going to her for lessons. It was a little bit like high school all over again. Regina was a tough teacher, always putting her down when she didn't give her all. Would it be different to learn magic from someone else? And what could Ursula teach her that Regina didn't know?

A warm, giddy rush came over her. Maybe she could show Regina up for once with some sort of fancy trick that she couldn't do. Emma smiled to herself, biting her lip. Wouldn't that be hilarious? Wouldn't that just serve her right?

The idea of working with Ursula was more appealing by the second.

...

Next: Magic practice. Henry notices things. Killian doesn't.