A/N: To make up for my lack of writing ANYTHING yesterday, I've written you guys my favorite chapter to date. I have got so many feelings about this and I really really hope it shows. If you missed my favorite headcanon theory about Hook in the last chapter, don't worry, you'll get it now. ;)

This is the Hanged Man, which is all about surrender and letting yourself go so you can finally move onto the next part of your life. I'm so excited for the last half of this fic and I hope you guys like it as much as I love writing it. Enjoy, and thank you AGAIN, for reading, reviewing and just ... being so awesome in general about this fic. It really means a lot.

Chapter Twelve
The Hanged Man
"I don't have a choice, but I still choose you … "

Emma hit the ground with a thud, landing face-first. She crashed down hard enough that it knocked the wind from her lungs, and all she could do was lie there for a moment, struggling to breathe. She was almost afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see what sort of realm she'd been sent to.

She still had no idea what had happened. Well, no, scratch that. She knew it had something to do with Gold. But she had no idea why, or if it meant that Killian was here as well … or was he still at the cabin, lying wounded and hurt, as Gold had implied? Had it all been some sort of trick? Why would he do that?

She couldn't possibly spend too much time contemplating that, she'd drive herself insane. Whatever had happened to him … well, it was beyond her to help him now.

God, she hoped he was okay.

Sighing, she raised herself up with her hands, wincing a bit as the movement jarred the ankle she'd twisted running through the woods earlier. She was pretty sure it was sprained, but there wasn't anything she could do about it til she figured out where she was.

Her brow furrowed as she sat up, ready to take in her surroundings, and try to piece together any information that could tell her where she'd ended up … and how to get back home.

Her eyes widened when she got her first glimpse of … wherever she was. The ground below her, though hard to crash land on, was covered in soft, almost velvety-feeling grass, so green it almost didn't seem real. Everything here seemed to shimmer and glow, very faintly, just enough to make the world look as though it were permanently candlelit.

Gingerly, she got to her feet, hopping a bit to lean against a nearby tree — with a trunk in a grey-ish lavender hue, and huge fan-shaped pink leaves. There seemed to be a million points of light dotting the air, everywhere she looked, and upon closer inspection, Emma realized they were stars.

Stars, everywhere. High in the sky, which was a gorgeous deep, rich indigo, there were millions upon millions of the tiny sparkling lights, and they didn't stop at the horizon. All Emma had to do was reach out, and she could pluck one right from the air. They stuck to her sweater, and in her hair, and she could hear a very faint sound in the air, reminiscent of tiny silver bells, which she assumed belonged to them.

Limping, she moved away from the tree, the velvet grass making a soft shhhh sound as she moved through it. After only a few hundred feet, she reached the end of the land on this side, meeting the sea. It lapped against the shoreline, which was all black and silver sand, and the water was a swirl of purples and blues and silvers, sparking in the light of the stars, looking for all the world like liquid gemstones.

Where was she? She'd never seen a more beautiful, strange place. Even in her wildest imaginings, she never could have come up with something like this. Something tugged at the farthest reaches of her mind, and she could hear Sea of Stars whisper in her head, like a memory from a dream.

Maybe she'd read about this place in one of Henry's books.

The thought was a knife in her belly. Henry. She couldn't be here. She needed to be there, with him. She had to find her way home. Everyone she cared about, everyone she loved … they were all in Storybrooke. And they needed her.

She needed them.

But there was no portal to go back through, and even if there was, she had no magic to open it. She had no idea where she was, and aside from the fact that it was beautiful, no clues to help her figure it out.

She turned away from the water then, making her way slowly in the other direction. Maybe there was a village, or … something. Anything. Surely there were people in this realm.

She just didn't understand why Gold would open a portal to this place, of all places. It seemed so … serene, so tranquil and calm. If he meant her harm, wouldn't he send her somewhere more fraught with peril? Or was that the trick? Lull her into a false sense of security and then …

Maybe this portal hadn't been meant for her at all. The thought gave her pause, and she stopped walking. Was she just collateral damage in the feud between Gold and Killian?

God, she still didn't know if Killian was all right. And if he was hurt … there was no one in Storybrooke who knew where he was.

He could die while she was stuck here. Her heart seized a bit at the thought. He would die alone, if that were the case. Alone, and without ever knowing …

Well, she didn't know what it was she felt for him. But she knew it was something more than just a sense of duty to protect him that drew her to him. It was more than even friendship. The bond they had … it was unmistakable. And it just kept growing, no matter what she did, or how she tried to fight it, it was there, and he was there … and …

She needed to get back. As much as her mind warned her to be cautious, to not take foolish risks with her heart — he's a pirate! she reminded herself — her heart believed that he just might be everything she'd been looking for. Everything she'd been afraid to admit she wanted.

She took a shaky breath and started walking again. She had no particular destination in mind — she had no idea where she was— but surely she'd eventually come upon someone or something that might be of use for her. Her ankle pained her with every step, but she had to keep going. Sitting still wasn't going to get her anywhere. The strange grass whispered beneath her feet as she walked, but the farther she walked, the more she became convinced that there was nothing around.

After walking for what must've been hours (she wouldn't know for sure though, her watch was frozen at the time it had been when she'd fallen through the portal), she came to more water.

"Christ, it's an island," she breathed at the realization. She froze, unable to continue walking on her ankle as it was, and suddenly completely without hope. How could she find her way home if she didn't even know where she was? She was utterly alone.

She felt like she could cry, but tears didn't come. Her eyes felt dry, and it felt wrong somehow. She should be weeping, sobbing uncontrollably about how, once again, everything in her life had gone wrong. But still she didn't cry. She just felt numb. This was why she'd shut herself off from other people to begin with. Because this … this feeling of desolation, and solitude … she'd gotten used to it, before Henry had come into her life.

And now, it seemed, she would have to relearn how to be alone.

And it hurt.

Her ankle was throbbing now, so she reached down, removing her boots. She moved closer to the water's edge, sitting down in the crystalline black and silver sand, letting the swirling water lap over her feet. It was warm, and it seemed to glitter as it touched her skin. The pain in her ankle began to subside.

Emma frowned, slightly unnerved by the mystical healing properties of this water. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, and she realized how tired she was. She lay back in the sand, letting her eyes fall closed. She should've been more vigilant, and in the back of her mind, she knew that, but was beyond exhaustion at this point. She told herself she'd only sleep for a little while, and when she woke, she'd come up with a plan …

The sound of laughter roused her from her slumber some time later. It was familiar laughter, though there was something just off enough about it that she couldn't place where she'd heard it before. She sat up and turned her head, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eyes. Not wasting time putting her boots back on, she jumped to her feet. "Wait!" she called out to whoever it was.

The owner of the laughter stopped, and Emma frowned. It didn't seem to be a real person at all … more like a shadow of someone long since gone. But he laughed again, and it made her heart flip a bit in her chest.

That laugh …

"I know you," she breathed. She cocked her head to the side, looking at the apparition. He wasn't looking directly at her, but the profile … younger, yes, and clean-shaven, but … "Don't I?"

The figure shrugged. "Could be, lass," a voice that sounded faraway said. "I know a great many people."

"Look at me," she said then, taking a step closer.

The figure backed up. "Oy, easy there," he said, and she could hear the mirth in his voice. It sounded so young but … He did turn then, and raised his head, the hint of a smirk on his lips. But it was when he flicked his gaze to hers that she gasped.

There was no mistaking those eyes, even in shadow and mist.

"Killian," she said, her body almost sagging with relief.

The young man's brow knitted. "Killian?" the faraway voice spoke again. "That's … not my name, love."

She frowned. "But it is," she insisted. She was sure of it now. Wherever this place was, whatever it was, it was connected to him. "Killian Jones," she said firmly.

He blanched. "That's a pirate name," he said, an almost accusing tone in his voice.

She laughed a little then. "Since when have you ever considered that a bad thing?" she said.

"I think you have me confused with someone else." And he took off again.

"No, wait!" Emma called out, running after him. "Please don't leave me!"

"Don't you have someplace else to be?"

"I do!" she said, still following him. "But I don't know how to get back there … I'm lost … please help me. It's you I'm trying to get back to!"

He stopped then, turning back to face her. "You're a strange one," he said, looking at her quizzically, his features fading in and out of focus, as though she were looking at him through a veil.

"That's rich, coming from you," she retorted, biting back a grin. She knew without a doubt that somehow, she was communicating with a younger version of her pirate right now. She didn't really care about the hows or the whys right now … she just felt better with his presence here.

"Ooh, you're a feisty one," he said, a grin on his face. "I like you. All right, lass, I'll help you. What are you called?"

"Emma," she told him. "If I can't call you … well, what is your name, then?"

"Emma." He blinked at the name, and she thought she saw a flicker of recognition behind his too-blue eyes. But just like that, it was gone, replaced with a wary look then. "Peter," he said after a moment, and Emma frowned.

"Peter?" she repeated blandly, trying not to laugh. The name was just so … so ordinary. She couldn't reconcile the dashing swashbuckling man she had come to know with … Peter.

"That's what I said, innit?" he said, an irritated tone in his voice now.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I just … it's not what I was expecting," she mumbled. She had a nagging feeling in her brain, something she couldn't quiet put her finger on, but she did her best to push it aside. Whatever it was, it didn't matter right now. What mattered was that he was going to help her.

"So you want my help, but you insult my name," he said, but he laughed, so Emma knew it was all right. "Your world must be very strange indeed."

"Wait, you know I'm not from here?" Emma asked.

"It's fairly apparent," he said drolly, eyeing her pointedly.

"Touche," she said. "Do you know how I can get back?"

"Personally?" he said. "No."

Emma sighed. "Oh," she said, ducking her head in defeat. "Well, then … "

"But I can take you to someone who might."

She raised her head then, hope rising within her again. "Really?" she said.

"It's no easy undertaking, lass," he said, a warning tone that belied his youthful appearance in his voice now.

"I'll do whatever it takes," she said. "I have to get home. My son's waiting for me, and my parents and my … "

"Me?" he said with a smirk, and it was so familiar it made her heart ache. Apparently he hadn't forgotten her saying she was trying to get back to him. He leaned in a bit then and lowered his voice. "Tell me, then, love, just how close are we in your world?"

Emma gaped a bit. "I will smack you, you know," she told him.

"Do you promise?" He winked. "Don't tease me, Emma."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Oh, just walk," she said, shaking her head, reaching out to shove his shoulder. She frowned when her hand passed through him. Right. The apparition thing.

He frowned as well. "Well, there go my plans for later," he lamented.

"Shut up," she told him with a laugh as they started walking. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Honestly? I've no idea," he told her with a shrug.

"How do you not know?" she asked, confused.

"There's not really any way to keep track of time here."

She looked down at her watch, frozen at the moment she'd fallen into this strange world. "You don't have any way of keeping track of time at all?" she asked. This was so bizarre. What was this place?

"Children age normally up to sixteen. That's as old as anyone here gets. Then it just … stops. I've been sixteen for … awhile now. People come through from other worlds, and if they stay here, they just stay whatever age they happened to be when they came." He looked at her. "This person you think is me … in your world … he's older, then?"

"Well, yeah," Emma said, as though it should be obvious.

"Must've decided to leave," he mused, more to himself than to her.

"Leave?" She took a deep breath then. Things were starting to click together in her mind now, but she needed to hear it. "Killi — Peter, I mean," she said. "What is this place?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did, Emma felt herself being pulled roughly from behind. The vision of Peter started to fade from her sight as she felt arms encircling her then.

"No!" she shouted, struggling against whatever it was that was grabbing her.

"Emma!" Peter shouted, the voice faraway again, before he disappeared out of her sight completely.

"Let me go!" Emma cried, trying to wriggle free from whatever had her ensnared.

"Emma!"

She jabbed her elbow backward, connecting sharply with the object behind her. Apparently, it was a person, because she heard him grunt.

"Bloody hell, Emma!" he growled.

Wait.

That was …

"Emma Swan, if you don't wake up and stop fighting with me right this second, I'm going to bloody well throttle you!"

Her eyes flew open then. She was sitting back in the soft, velvety grass, her back pressed against something solid and familiar and warm and …

She turned her head, eyes wide. "Killian?" she sputtered.

"Bloody hell," he said again, his eyes stormy as he looked at her.

"Oh, my God, Killian!" she gasped, turning around and throwing her arms around him. "Is it really you?"

She felt him hesitate briefly before his arms encircled her. He sighed and she felt him inhale deeply against her hair. "Aye, lass, it's me," he said softly.

She held him tightly, breathing the scent of leather and sea and whatever else it was that was just Killian, thinking to herself that she wasn't letting go for anything, not now.

After a moment, he pulled away though, pushing back from her and standing up.

Emma frowned, looking up at him. "Killian?" she asked him, brow furrowed.

"What is the matter with you?" he shouted then, and Emma blinked at the anger in his voice. She stood up, not about to berated for … well, whatever it was she was getting berated for … while she was sitting down.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him, her own anger snapping.

"How could you just fall asleep unattended like that?" he said. "And with your feet in the bloody Dreamers' Despair! Emma."

"I was tired!" she shot back. "I've been walking for hours, and I have no idea where I am or how to get back or … " She trailed off, frowning. "Wait. The what?"

He sighed heavily, running his hand over his forehead, before gesturing out toward the water that Emma had fallen asleep beside. "It's called the Dreamers' Despair," he said, sounding tired. "You mustn't touch that water, Emma, not ever."

"Why?" she asked.

"People touch it, and they fall asleep, and they never wake up," he said, not pulling any punches with his words. "When you touched it, Emma, what happened?"

"Well, it made my ankle feel better, at first," she said, hugging her arms around herself. "But then I got … really sleepy. I thought it was just because I'd been walking for so long … " She trailed off. "So if you hadn't come … when you did … "

"High tide would have come for you instead."

Killian's face was still a mask of anger, but he took a step toward her, and his hand came to rest on her cheek. He didn't say anything else, he just kissed her, desperate and needy, his hook looping through one of her beltloops and pulling her closer to him.

Emma sank against him, one hand moving to tangle in his hair as she parted her lips for him, shivering as his tongue slid against hers. She felt the growl that rumbled in his chest as it reverberated against her own. His lips trailed down her neck and she moaned softly. "Killian," she breathed.

He lifted his head then, his eyes meeting hers, and he exhaled a shaky breath before moving his hand and his hook to her shoulder and pushing her to arm's length.

She didn't understand. "What's … "

"No more touching the water here, got it?" he said, and she nodded, rolling her eyes at his imperious tone. "We've got to get you home," he told her.

"We've got to get us home, you mean," she corrected.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He kissed her forehead and pulled her close. "Right you are, darling," he said quietly.

"Killian, where are we?" she asked him then, looking up at him from the warmth of his embrace.

He managed a small smile that she actually believed this time. "Oh, how did they put it in that bloody moving picture thing your lad had me watch?" he mused, thinking. "Right … second star to the right, and straight on til morning."

She swallowed thickly. She'd been right.

"Neverland," she breathed.

"Yes," he said, nodding. He let his fingers thread through her hair then. "And you've stardust in your hair. You must have landed on the other side of this island, by the Sea of Stars. It's beautiful there, I would've liked to seen your face when you saw it the first time." He sounded wistful, and Emma knew he was truly sorry to have missed it.

She felt her heart skip several beats from the way he was looking at her then, so tenderly, as though … well, as though she were precious to him.

"I … I dreamed of you," she said after a moment, nodding toward the water. "You were … younger, but it … it was you."

She felt his arms tighten around her a bit. "You dreamed of me here?" he said cautiously.

"I … yes," she said. "You were going to help me get home." She smiled at him a little. "Though … you told me your name … was Peter."

"Oh," he said, and from the look on his face, Emma could see that it was true. Suddenly that nagging feeling she'd had in her dream came back at her, full force.

Peter … Neverland … Captain Hook… it wasn't logical, and it didn't make any damn sense, and yet …

A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of her throat then. She couldn't help it. It was all so insane. "Are you Peter fucking Pan?" she asked.

"Ah, so you've heard of me," he said softly, and Emma smiled, remembering that he'd said the very same thing the first time they'd ever met.

"How does that even work? How can you be both?" she asked, shaking her head. "And how could I have possibly dreamed that, Killian?"

"I can tell you the story, if you really want to know, love," he said, letting his hand slide down her arm, fingers lacing with hers then. "Though it's not a happy tale, I assure you." He shook his head. "As for the rest, well … Nobody knows how the Dreamers' Despair works," he said after a long moment. "Whatever you dream is supposed to be good enough to keep you dreaming, forever." Suddenly he was smirking at her. "And you were dreaming of me."

Emma laughed a little. "Don't let it go to your head," she told him dryly.

"Oh, it's too late," he said. "I knew it, all along."

She rolled her eyes. "Knew what? There's nothing to know!"

"Keep telling yourself that, love," he said teasingly, but there was something in the way his hand tightened in hers then, the way his blue eyes seemed lit from within when he looked at her.

"How did you even get here, anyway?" Emma asked then, wanting to fill in the details, so when she did get back to Storybrooke, she would know exactly what she needed to do.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said with a shrug. "I jumped in after you."

Her breath caught a little then. He said it as if it was no big deal, as if it was just one of those things, as if anyone would do the same. "Just like that?" she asked, her voice quiet. "You weren't … hurt?"

"Hurt?" he asked, brow furrowed. "No, love, I was waiting for you, and … well, you know how the rest of the story goes. Portal, swirly magic, all that … "

There was more to it, something he wasn't saying, and she could tell. But she didn't want to push him right now. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He'd come after her. He'd come for her. And they'd get back to Storybrooke together.

"Do you know how to get us home?" she asked him then.

"Aye, I can get you home," he said after a pause. "We'll have to go clear across the realm though. We're at the Sea of Stars, which is as far south as south goes in Neverland. We need to go north. To the Hollow."

"The Hollow?" Emma asked, looking at him.

"It's where the fairies live," he said. "And no, they're not a thing like those sodding nuns from Storybrooke," he added pointedly.

"Fairies?" Emma said, a grin tugging at her lips. "Seriously?"

He smiled at her reaction. "Would you like to meet them, love?"

"Yes," she said, her grin widening then. "I think I would."

"Then let's away, lass," he said, pulling on her hand. "And I'll show you Neverland."

She didn't move to follow him right away, instead she tugged back on his hand, pulling him back to her. She kissed him gently. "Thank you," she told him. "For coming after me. I thought … I thought I was lost, and … alone."

A strange light filled his eyes then, and she swore she heard his breath hitch. He raised her hand, brushing his lips lightly over her knuckles. "You don't need to thank me, Emma," he said softly. "It's not like I had any bloody choice."

"You always have a choice," Emma said.

"Well, then, I guess I've made mine, haven't I?" His eyes stayed locked on hers, and Emma knew that from this moment on, nothing was ever going to be the same again.

It was far too late for her to try and deny it any more.

So have I …