A/U I am so sorry for taking so long with this update – I have been so outrageously busy of late, but that is no excuse. Just a warning, the updates are going to be a little slow for a while just because things are getting a bit hectic. Combined with the fact that my muse is being difficult, and voila, slow updates. Nevertheless, enjoy!
Chapter Ten: Homecoming
The sky was the very first thing that she saw; dark and illuminated by millions of stars, spattered unevenly across the great expanse before her. She felt the oxygen enter her unused lungs, filling them as she inhaled deeply and then flowing freely out as she exhaled. It was as if a fog hazed her mind and she clutched desperately at the straws of her fractured memories.
For what felt like a long moment, Emma couldn't clearly recall much of anything – her mind a blank canvas. It was a strangely disconcerting feeling; being unable to evoke any semblance of personality or individuality. And then, like paint slowly being added to a portrait, she remembered. Dabs of black and grey outlined her troubled past. A streak of pure white stressed a brief flicker of hope before being dashed by a line of dark purple. The canvas filled with more dark paint, a dirty collage filled with loneliness and heartache before something akin to gold dripped down from a corner.
It slowly spread, tinting much of the dark painting until a great deal of the obscurity was masked by a beautiful pattern of gold and white. For a moment, the brightness was reduced as black was thrown into the centre of the canvas, a dark spot like a cavity in a chest. But quickly, the golden pattern re-emerged, creating a lattice of lines over the black – not completely covering it but obscuring it enough that it wasn't blatantly obvious. Almost like a Band-Aid being applied to a deep wound. Temporary and utterly ineffective.
Bright colours detailed the edges and then there was a flash of red. It splattered unexpected across the canvas of her memory; a man with ice blue eyes and a hook for a hand.
Her thoughts began to speed up until eventually her recollections reached what had occurred just seconds ago. A voice begging her to return, a man yelling a name, pushing through some kind of barrier.
Emma blinked, and a familiar face came into sight – a toothy grin spread across his face. She felt her chest constrict almost painfully at the sight of him, shaggy haired and pale, her heart beating fast as he leaned down and gripped her tightly. The blonde sat up with stiff limbs, immediately returning the embrace fiercely and nuzzling into the top of his head. She smiled in spite of the tears that threatened to spill, holding him tightly until he began to pull away.
"Mom," Henry said simply, his face nearly glowing from the elation that rolled off him.
Before she could respond, two pairs of arms were wrapping around her from the side and she started slightly at the strange feeling. As she felt one of the people holding her shake, Emma tilted her head up to identify them and quickly reciprocated the movement when she noticed whose arms they were.
Mary Margaret clutched almost frantically at her daughter, clenching and unclenching her hands in the red jacket she was still wearing. It was as though she were habitually checking Emma's solidity, ensuring this wasn't just another dream. David held his arms around the two women, a look of pure relief broadcasted across his hardened features.
After a long moment, Emma pulled back to look at the people surrounding her. Mary Margaret's cheeks glistened in the evening light, wet from the tears still forming a torrent down her face. Even as the saviour drew away, she maintained a firm grip on her upper arm.
Emma met her mother's eyes and gave her a watery smile, touching the hand on her shoulder. Beside her, David stared awe-struck at the blonde, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears of elation and pride.
She turned to her other side, to where Henry was still kneeling beside her. His grin hadn't moved an inch and it warmed every part of her being to see him so happy.
Her eyes drifted up to a male figure behind him, brown eyes locked onto her with what could only be described as respite. And standing behind him, to her utter astonishment, was Regina – the woman who'd only a short time ago attempted to kill her. The woman met her gaze and gave her a cool nod of acknowledgement, though she could swear she saw a small smirk tug at the corners of the stoic woman's burgundy lips.
Emma continued to search the area around her, a particular face in mind. She tried not to make it too obvious as her eyes darted out in pursuit of him.
Mary Margaret and David began to stand up and Henry did the same. As Neal got to his feet, he held his hand out to help the blonde up. Her pride strongly protested the aid but the objections of her sore muscles were louder. She took his hand and he lifted her gently to her feet.
Emma gasped in shock when he pulled her towards him; stiffening as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his chest. Something akin to affection unexpectedly bubbled up in her and she put her arms around his waist, patting him lightly on the back. With her head resting on his shoulder, Emma looked behind him and her breath hitched imperceptibly when her eyes landed on a dark silhouette standing a short distance away.
Ice blue eyes burned into hers as she met his gaze, his face unreadable. The fathomless expression hardened as his eyes raked over her and then dropped to the ground.
Emma drew away from Neal, softly extracting herself from his arms and smiling half-heartedly.
There was a moment of silence as she took in the faces around her again, wandering from her parents to her son, to Neal, to Regina before straying towards Killian who played idly with his hook. He appeared bored but Emma could see the way his jaw was set, like a chink in his armour. She ignored the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and turned to look at her surroundings. The sky was far too clear for them to be anywhere near Storybrooke and the lake to her left was like nothing she'd ever seen, which begged the question; where were they?
"So," she finally said, coughing a bit when her voice came out cracked, "What have I missed?"
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Killian kept his eyes focused on his metal appendage as he waited for them to finish explaining to the Swan girl. He could hear as they answered all of her questions diligently, leaving out no detail – except perhaps the importance of his involvement, a bitter voice whispered in the back of his head. The pirate had felt his chest lighten as she finally woke up, embraced by her family in a heart-warming spectacle.
But then, when she'd gathered herself and stood up, he'd hugged her, jerking her forwards and enveloping her in his arms.
Killian didn't want to identify the source or meaning of the sharp sting he'd felt as he watched Neal hold her. Or the intensifying of that feeling when she'd reciprocated the movement and incidentally met his gaze.
He honestly didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been this. Not this flurry of relief and excitement followed by blatant ignorance. Indignation simmered in his chest as he glanced up at the happy family, smiling wildly as they retold their tale thus far. It was with surprise that he noted someone beside him.
"What are you doing over here?" Regina asked, having walked over to him while he was deceptively consumed by the maintenance of his hook. Killian schooled his features into an expression that conveyed boredom with the slightest edge of impatience. He met her eyes fleetingly, a mirthless smirk tilting his lips.
"I'm giving the princess time with her family – time to catch up. She did, after all, miss quite a bit during her nice little nap," he replied drolly.
Regina narrowed her eyes at him, scrutinising him shamelessly. She looked back at Emma and her family, a brief shadow of understanding crossing her face before she raised her eyebrows in deliberation. She didn't speak again though, shoving her hands in the pockets of her large black coat and waiting patiently alongside him for the group to finish.
Killian forced himself to think of something else; focusing on their bedding arrangements for the night. The sun had set and night was beginning to takes its full effect as the air grew colder, and he could only imagine the nocturnal animals coming out to play. His breath came out in sharp white wisps as he mused their options: trek back to the ship, stay in the clearing or find another place to stay in the woods.
He immediately dismissed the first option – they wouldn't make it before the night reached its peak, when the Neverwoods were at their finest. Being in the vicinity of the dense forest was bad enough, let alone trudging blindly through in the dead of night when silence was vital to survival. So, they could either stay in the clearing of Lilith's Lagoon or move further into the forest. The only problem with the clearing was it made them easy pickings for the dreaded shadow, should its flight path cross over Lilith's Lagoon. Thus, Killian decided they would make their way a short distance into the denser area of the forest and set up camp there.
Looking up around him, the night sky slowly becoming darker, Killian's patience waned and he looked back over at the small congregation. Their conversation had transferred ends; Emma was no longer asking questions so much as being told irrelevant information.
The pirate sighed and made his way towards them and, indifferent façade fixed firmly in place, coughed to gain their attention.
Emma was the first to whirl towards him, a strange look flashing in her eyes as they landed on him.
"As much as I do hate to break the happy reunion, we do have to set up camp. It'd be a shame for us to come all this way only to fall prey to Neverland," he said, levelling them each with a calculated stare – except Henry, whom he avoided looking at altogether. The boy's presence a simple, unintentional reminder of the happy family he'd helped reunite – and the loneliness that had already started creeping up on him.
"Okay, where are we going?" Emma asked, taking him slightly off guard as she addressed him for the first time since her demise. His eyes locked onto hers in the darkness and he maintained a neutral expression.
"Into the forest – the foliage will shroud us from the shadow," he replied.
"The what?" she countered with raised eyebrows.
Killian sighed, "I was told that people from your realm have heard of the dreaded thing – suffice it to say; it's not good. Ergo, we should start moving… if you please."
Henry was the first to nod, sidling up to his mother and smiling at Killian. He returned the gesture gently, looking around at them all once more and turning on his heel, unsheathing his sword in the process.
The pirate headed straight for the tree line, glancing behind him to ensure they were following and, sure enough, Emma and her family along with Regina were padding quietly across the grass after him.
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Emma kept an arm around Henry as they walked through the dark woodlands, her eyes straining to make out her surroundings. The moonlight that crept through the foliage overhead was the only thing that prevented her and her family from running into trees, though she did trip over at least a dozen roots as they walked.
She kept her eyes ahead, on Killian who was striding confidently and quietly through the shrubbery, forging a path for them with every lithe swing of his sword. Emma nearly ran into him when he stopped, stumbling a couple of steps before coming to a halt behind him. She let go of Henry and moved to stand beside him, scrutinising the area before them.
As she looked at the dense undergrowth and trees, her eyes found his face in the dim filtered moonlight. His ice blue eyes shone brilliantly as he looked over the area for a long moment before turning around to the group, seemingly ignoring Emma's presence beside him.
"We'll stop here," he said quietly, "It's going to get colder than it is now, so get warm. But don't dare use a fire or I'll kill you before the beasts do." He spun back around and headed straight towards a large tree, sitting down against it and pulling out a small container of what Emma presumed was not water.
Mary Margaret pulled her backpack around and, after some brief searching, extracted some food packages. Emma took hers gratefully, smiling at her mother and moving over to another of the trees with Henry. They sat down and everyone seemed to make sure they were in each other's line of sight.
Her stomach growled angrily and she felt her mouth salivate just thinking about the food in her hands – she hadn't eaten in what felt like months. Emma pulled away at the brown wrappings frantically and dug ravenously into the slice of bread that lay there. As she chewed, she looked over the contents of her meal; an apple and two slices of bread. It was a humble banquet and yet she could only think how amazing it was.
Emma took another large bite and turned to her son, maternal instincts prompting her to check up on him. He was holding the slice of bread in his hands and grinned at her, giving her a look that told her he'd watched as she became a Neanderthal in the presence of food. She swallowed the piece she was chewing and sneered at him light-heartedly, evoking a small giggle from the boy.
Henry ripped off a morsel of the bread and popped it in his mouth and, pleased he was eating, Emma let her gaze and thoughts wander.
Her eyes landed immediately on her parents who were sitting beside her and Henry, diligently eating the bread and fruit with the composure of true royals – even though they were in the middle of a freaking forest. She suddenly wondered what she would have been like if she'd grown up under their care; would she still have become the stubborn, determined woman she was? Emma studied her parents, their mannerisms and short affectionate exchanges. It was only when they returned her gaze that she felt the need to focus her attention elsewhere, smiling at her mother and father briefly and tilting her head to the other side.
On Henry's other side, Neal was sitting close by. When she looked towards him, she nearly started at the realisation he was staring at her. When they locked gazes, he smiled softly. Emma paused before giving him a tight smile and facing forwards again, suddenly uncomfortable being the centre of attention.
She thought she heard a barely audible snicker and raised her head questioningly. Leaning against the tree two metres opposite from her was Killian, his cerulean eyes considering her with a sense of amusement. She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow, miffed as to why he would be laughing at her. The pirate hadn't touched his food portions yet, turning the package over in his one good hand as he studied her.
They held each other's stare and, when he glanced at Neal and her parents, she realised he was entertained by the strange dynamic that currently existed between them all.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in silent response but he continued to scrutinise her. Emma didn't move under his inspection, schooling her features into an impassive mask as he searched for something unidentifiable. The blonde watched as his icy irises lost some of their mirth, replaced by something she couldn't place.
The exchange was suddenly very intense and she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, trying to get a read on him.
"Who's taking the first watch?" David's voice interrupted the strange exchange and Emma's eyes snapped onto her father. Killian tucked the food portions in his satchel and stood up.
"I think I'll be doing that – this section of the evening is the most dangerous and I know what to look out for. I'll wake you in two hours," the pirate responded apathetically. Emma swallowed the last of her bread and waited for David to protest and claim ulterior motives.
"Okay."
The blonde stiffened and looked to Killian whose features were fleetingly consumed by shock and confusion. But as soon as the emotions registered on his face, they were gone, swept away by an expression of indifference.
David had actually just agreed to lay some sliver of trust in the pirate's hand.
Emma suddenly wondered just how much she'd missed during her brief comatose state.
Mary Margaret pulled her backpack around, drawing out several tightly packed thin blankets and distributing them around the group – even the pirate whose attention was now on their surroundings. Emma took the blanket and watched as her parents made themselves comfortable in the dirt. They looked oddly peaceful, despite the hard, stick strewn ground. She wondered if they'd had experience with sleeping on forest floors before and shrugged it off as she turned to Henry.
He had already untied his small blanket and was beginning to lay it out. Neal was sitting up, eyes closed and, against the tree next to him, Regina looked to be close to sleep not far away, propped up, her eyes drooping further with every lazy blink.
Henry shuffled closer to his mother and Emma put an arm around his shoulders, holding him against her side as she draped her own blanket over the both of them.
When Emma looked down at him, now safe and content in her arms and slowly drifting off to sleep, she felt emotion suddenly swell in her chest and tears prickle the back of her eyelids. She had never been an overtly sentimental person, but in that moment she felt consumed by the feelings washing over her.
Gratitude.
Relief.
Love.
A small smile dusted her lips as she watched fatigue settle over her son, his breathing slower and deeper as he fell asleep tucked into her side. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree and sighed, looking up at the canopy of trees just covering the full moon. Its light only just filtered down into their small camp site, barely illuminating the dirt floor.
She waited for a long moment for exhaustion to wash over her, but it didn't come. Emma realised very quickly that she was surprisingly alert; starting every time she heard some strange noise in the dense undergrowth surrounding them.
The blonde looked around at their little group – her parents were fast asleep, David's arm draped over Mary Margaret's shoulder in an affectionate embrace, Henry was still cradled to her side though now he was facing outwards towards Neal and Regina who were slumbering peacefully. Her eyes drifted around their circle and came to a stop on a pair of ice blue irises. Killian was still looking around them and, with his attention drawn elsewhere, she found herself studying him.
He leaned against the trunk of the tree lazily, tedium rolling off him. And yet, there was an undeniable undercurrent of rigidity to his stance that made Emma think twice about his impassive front.
He looked bored to the untrained eye. But he was definitely on high alert – for what, Emma didn't want to know.
Killian's eyes drifted over their surroundings and abruptly landed on her. She realised to her chagrin that she had been staring, immediately admonishing herself for being so stupid. She expected him to smirk or do something arrogant, but instead a funny expression began to shade his face.
Images flashed in her mind's eye: the last time she saw him, being in the dark room with silence encompassing her, being in the dark room as he spoke about her, hearing his voice when her skin had begun to glow.
His words bounced around in her head, the ones he'd muttered seemingly to himself, unaware that she could hear him.
"You don't have a claim here, not to her anyway…"
Emma dropped her gaze, only so she could gently remove Henry from her side, delicately lowering him back down onto the ground. She didn't really know what she was doing as she made sure her son was comfortable before quietly moving towards him. His eyes regarded her curiously, almost hesitantly, as she leaned on the tree beside him and folded her arms across her chest.
He had been right about one thing.
It was getting bloody cold.
She rubbed the gooseflesh that had broken out across her arms and looked around, avoiding his eyes for a long moment.
"Why are you here?" she finally asked, meeting his stare unflinchingly. Emma never had been one to skirt the subtleties. Her tone wasn't accusatory; it was curious, unsure and hesitant. Killian's eyes flickered between hers for a second, and he too folded his arms across his chest.
"Your family enlisted my assistance, so I came."
Lie.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, trying to decide whether to call him out on the untruth. It felt as though they were suddenly on the precipice of a great revelation, something that neither of them was prepared for. She realised this and, chewing her bottom lip, chose not to intercede. As she continued to probe his face for answers to unspoken questions, Emma noticed the stoniness in his usually relaxed features.
Something was off about him, and she couldn't quite place why it bothered her so much that he should feel unhappy.
"Shouldn't you be trying to sleep, princess?" he asked, turning his ice blue gaze on her.
She shrugged, her eyes drifting down to her feet as she kicked at the dirt with her boots, "Can't. I guess being asleep for a week will do that to you." He hummed appreciatively and she looked up at him again. They were silent again, the only sound coming from the clicking of insects and occasional rustling of leaves.
Hook's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as the words tumbled from his lips, "What was it like… being, for all intents and purposes, dead?"
Emma shifted her weight uncomfortably, instantly recalling the dark room. She considered telling him for a short second, before her protective instincts kicked into gear, shoving the memories down into the recesses of her mind. He didn't need to know – it would only fuel his ego.
Something small within her scoffed at that notion, reminding her that thus far she was yet to see a display of his usual arrogance.
Emma sighed, her breath coming out in a long white wisp.
She didn't really know why she was even speaking to him at all, so she figured no harm could be done by explaining the surreal experience.
"It was strange… I was in another dimension – or something like that," her mind throbbed just thinking about it, "I don't really know. It was a giant, never-ending field. And I couldn't feel anything – at all. Boring as bat-shit."
Hook chuckled at her last comment and she unwittingly found the edges of her mouth pulling up tightly. She stifled the urge to smile back, but something about the way he looked at her told her it was obvious that she, too, found the entire situation comical.
"So that's why you were acting downright primitive earlier," he replied dryly, a small genuine smile still fixed in place.
Emma frowned and kicked him lightly in the shin, "Shut up."
She turned to look at their small group again, eyes roaming over Neal and Regina and Henry and her parents, all content in sleep. It was strange to think that they'd all come back for her, that they'd all taken such great lengths just to get her back. She mused for a moment who would have come up with the idea to save her – probably Henry. The kid was optimistic to a fault.
Nevertheless, her throat still constricted when she remembered the man in front of her.
He was there. He didn't have a reason to be.
He had come of his own volition – because the Gods knew that no one could make Hook do what he didn't want to do. He had come to a land that they all claimed was wrought with danger, momentarily given up on his revenge – something that did not go unnoticed by Emma – and kept her family safe all without recompense.
What angle was he taking?
"Thank you."
The murmured approbation left her lips before she had the opportunity to restrain it. His eyes flickered with something unidentifiable in the moonlight, and he stayed still for a long moment before nodding once lightly. She didn't have to explain the statement; he knew what she was thanking him for. She should have been disconcerted that he could read her that well, that her words need not be elucidated, that he simply read the subtext there and responded accordingly.
But she wasn't.
She was grateful for not having to explain.
"So, you've been here before?" she probed, searching his eyes.
He nodded, "Aye, that I have. Hasn't changed very much – still a downright deadly destination."
Emma smirked momentarily, "Nice alliteration."
He gave her a funny look, somewhere between curiosity and amusement and shrugged nonchalantly, sighing and leaning his head back against the tree trunk, "I do try."
She shook her head, schooling her features into indifference again, already scolding herself for the momentary lack in judgement for allowing him the small smile. Lancelot had really gotten to her in the past week. Stupid knight in shiny armour.
"So, got any survival advice?" she asked, looking up at the branches overhead as well.
He smirked, "Are you planning on taking a vacation here, love?"
Emma scoffed, "No – just curious."
There was a long moment of silence before he responded, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered the words in a raspy tone, "The more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it is." Emma nodded appreciatively, taking the statement into consideration. Evidently, though, he wasn't finished speaking and she looked down to his eyes when she heard his voice.
"Which would make you lethal," he murmured, his eyes flitting down from the sky to meet hers briefly, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. It was like watching ice melt – his initial demeanour had been so distant, she actually found herself appreciating the pirate she was used to. Emma scoffed quietly.
"I've been awake for a couple of hours and you're already making innuendos," she retorted dryly, giving him a deadpan look.
"Not an innuendo it it's true, darling," he replied smoothly.
She shook her head, trying in vain to shove down the warmth already starting to take hold of her.
It was silent again and Emma distantly noted the feeling of gooseflesh breaking out across her skin, instantly attributing it to the frigid night air. However, when her eyes drifted down the trunk of the tree to Hook, she felt her heart shrivel up in her chest. His eyes were unfocused as he appeared to be trying to listen out for something. She held her breath, straining her ears to isolate the sound that suddenly had him alarmed. But she had never been to Neverland, so she didn't know what to listen out for. But whatever it was, Hook heard it again because he was suddenly striding to where Neal slept. The pirate shook him none too gently, and the man groaned in his groggy state.
When he opened his eyes and saw that it was Hook, a scowl took form on his face.
"What?" he hissed, pushing himself up onto his feet.
It was only when he noted Hook's expression that his facial expression sobered and he repeated the question with less antagonism and a bucket-load of concern.
"What?"
"Tell me if I'm wrong but do you hear what I hear?" the pirate asked in a hushed tone. Both men ignored Emma as they listened closely to the sounds around them until Neal's eyes widened in horror.
"What's it doing this far South?" Neal demanded, his voice suddenly raw with fear.
Hook shook his head rapidly, "I don't know. Wake everybody up – we need to move." The pirate turned to Emma, pointing at her family and instructing, "Get them up, leave the blankets, we don't have time to pack everything up." She nodded, her movements broken and jumpy as fear began to course through her body, an unwanted emotion cementing her muscles on the spot.
She pivoted and was quickly kneeling beside her parents, ushering them awake. They looked up at her through hooded lids and, when they saw her face, were quickly pushing themselves into a standing position.
"What's going on?" Mary Margaret asked as she straightened out her shirt.
Emma shook her head, "I don't know – something's coming and Hook and Neal both said we need to move." Her two parents nodded and made motion to pack up their things but the blonde grasped her mother's arm.
"We don't have time to pack up, the second Henry wakes up, we're leaving," she said.
A look of confusion and apprehension crossed Mary Margaret's face but she nodded, standing up and walking with David over to where Hook stood with Neal and Regina. Emma kneeled beside Henry and shook him gently until his eyes fluttered open.
"Mom?"
"Henry, we need to go – come on, get up kid," she helped him lightly to his feet, and he turned to her with anxious eyes.
"What's going on?" Henry asked as Emma led him over to where their group was congregated.
"I don't really know, but we need to move," was all she said, the line feeling like a mantra now that she'd repeated it so many times. When Hook saw her approaching he began speaking, simultaneously drawing out his sword and moving towards the denser part of their miniature clearing, already preparing to start their impromptu trek.
"Follow me, do not stop until I tell you to and do not make any noises. Do you all understand?" he said and, though low, his voice held all the authority Emma expected a captain should possess. They all nodded and, without hesitation, Hook began cutting down the foliage impeding their path, forging a new trail in the forest.
The group walked briskly over the undergrowth, their pace a lot faster than before, their movements slightly panicked as the effect of the Neverwoods at night seeped in.
It had barely been twenty minutes when Neal ran up from the back to walk beside Hook.
"It's close, we can't outrun it. We need to get into the trees," he said, instantly looking up and searching for a suitable trunk. Hook nodded and Emma felt the dire nature of their situation – when else would the pirate have instantaneously agreed with the Dark One's son? Hook motioned for them to follow him and the group stopped in front of a large tree with thick branches. The lowest branch was probably three metres off the ground.
Hook turned to Neal, "You go up first and help pull everyone else up. Get them to keep climbing until it's too dangerous to do so," he said, steadying himself against the tree. Neal nodded, bracing his hands on the pirate's shoulders and stepping onto them.
Hook grunted with the effort it took to hold Neal's weight but eventually the latter was able to grab a hold of the lowest branch and heave himself up. He swung his legs over the branch and leaned over, letting his arm dangle down so he was ready to help the rest of them up.
Henry was first, the young boy pushed up almost effortlessly into his father's arms. As soon as he landed on the branch, Neal instructed him to start climbing and the boy did as he was told, manoeuvring himself onto another branch half a metre up.
Next was Regina, then Mary Margaret and then, after Emma refused to go up next, David. As her father was lifted up into the tree, Hook levelled her with a look that told her he would be immovable on the order of who would go up next. She sighed, pulling herself up on his shoulders and grabbing a hold of Neal's hand. She pulled herself up and let her eyes roam heavenwards, to where Henry and her parents were making their way slowly up the tree.
Emma turned around, looking down to where Hook was lodging his hook into the tree so he could climb up just enough to reach Neal's hand.
"Come on, hurry up," Neal whispered, stretching his hand down frantically.
Both men's eyes widened in fear, just before Emma registered the sound rapidly approaching. It sounded like crickets clicking, but deeper, more rabid. The noise became loud, very loud, and then broke off into a colossal roar that echoed throughout the forest. Her eyes darted between his figure and the shape she could vaguely see barrelling through the undergrowth from her position in the tree.
Emma's eyes locked onto Killian's ice blue ones and she felt her heart constrict at what she saw: a strange and morbid mixture of fear and acceptance. He unlodged his appendage from the tree and Neal pulled his arm up as the pirate turned to face the direction the roars were coming from.
"What are you doing?" Emma hissed, leaning down, "Hook! Hook!" Her voice grew louder with every syllable. But he didn't move and Neal's hand now had a firm purchase on her upper arm.
She watched in horror as the rustling leaves shook more violently until something jumped out towards Killian, its iridescent flesh glinting briefly in the moonlight before it knocked him over with a poignant grunt and primal growl. And the ball of man and animal disappeared into the bushes.
Emma didn't realise what she was doing until she'd done it, ripping her arm out of Neal's grip and jumping down from the branch. She landed on the dirt harshly, dropping to her knees and rolling onto her side slightly with the impact.
A voice that sounded oddly like Hook's yelled angrily at her in her mind, What are you doing? You only just got back and you're already running head-first into danger?
And it was true, what she was doing was reckless and insulting to her family – they'd saved her from oblivion just to have her throw it in their faces by sprinting to the first possible near-death experience. But something deep in the pits of her gut wouldn't let her sit down while Hook became supper for whatever the hell that creature was.
She had to do something.
She winced as she pushed herself up onto her feet and Henry's voice reached her from above, "Mom! Mom, what are you doing?"
But Emma didn't have time to reply and, ignoring the pain in her ankle, sprinted in the direction the beast had taken Hook. Behind her, she heard the dull thud of boots hitting the ground as Neal's voice called out in protest.
"Emma!" he yelled in vain as she sprinted past the bushes and out of sight.
There was a long second where he warred with himself, glancing between the tree and the shrubbery where she'd just disappeared. He looked back up to where Henry was now leaning over the branch he was perched on, trying to identify the source of the commotion at the base. Neal groaned and called up to their group in the tree.
"Stay here!" he bellowed, ignoring the fact that doing so would draw unnecessary attention in the previously quiet forest.
Without waiting for reply, he ran head first into the bushes where Emma had gone. It was half an hour of aimless searching the surrounding area before, with a frustrated growl and a kick aimed at the base of the closest tree, he turned back. He would do their group no good by getting lost, especially since he was their next best guide with Hook dispatched for the time being.
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Twigs and leaves scratched at Emma's body as she ran after Hook, leaving tiny red marks on her arms and face. She followed her ears, unable to see anything in the evening light, and was relieved when she sensed the commotion of growls and grunts growing closer with every stride over the forest floor. The density of the trees looked as though it was spreading out and she could just barely see through to where there appeared to be a large clearing. A glint of silver, a flash of a black silhouette and then, making Emma skid to a sudden stop, a cry of pain.
It was as if a shot of adrenaline was sent through her again, doubling the high she was already on and sending her barrelling towards the noises at unimaginable speed. Her heart beat painfully against her chest, her breathing laboured as she pushed herself to run faster, faster, faster.
Emma had nearly reached the last line of trees when her foot caught on a thick tree root, sending her plummeting forward. She dived headfirst, putting her hands out to catch her fall as she landed on the grassy edge of the clearing. The impact forced every last iota of breath from her lungs and she grunted loudly as she landed harshly on her numbed limbs.
"Swan! What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!" Hook's voice roared, so potent with anger she almost flinched. But there was another noise, something that overrode the wrath in his voice, that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up like an audience rising for a brilliant performance.
The clearing was abruptly very quiet and Hook's voice could just barely be heard as Emma pushed herself up on to her hands and knees, inhaling deeply to try and steady her breathing.
"Don't… move," he said with forced composure.
There was a low growl, so close she could feel the vibrations in the beast's chest.
Emma lifted her head up, holding her muscles rigidly still as she did.
Her eyes snapped onto the thing standing two metres away from her, its glowing green eyes flashing unceremoniously with bloodthirsty hunger. It looked like a jungle cat, large and sleek with the head of a jaguar. But it was at least twice the size, and where glossy black fur should have covered its body, there were silver scales.
The beast growled low and deep again, its hackles rising as it pulled back its lip to show its teeth; a long line of pinpoint-sharpened fangs that glinted ominously in the moonlight.
Emma glanced briefly at Hook, his ice blue eyes flickering to her at almost the exact time, filled with unadulterated fear and anxiety. She'd only ever seen him look like that once before in her life – with the wraith.
Dum dum duuuuuuumm!
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