Chapter 3
Jolly Roger 1:29 pm
As his five shipmates scurry about, preparing the ship to sail, Bae ducks down below deck in search of the map that had directed Hook here. It's on top of the desk; Hook had no reason to hide it, never expecting his vessel to be hijacked. Grabbing the map, Bae pauses just long enough to ask, "How're you feeling now?"
Gold squints at him through half-closed eyes. "You're not fooling me, boy. You want to say it, so say it."
Bae's mouth twitches between a scowl and a grin. "Papa."
"Much better now, son." But his body jerks once before he can gain control of it.
Bae occupies himself with the map. "Looks like it's a short trip. About an hour." He starts up the stairs but Gold calls to him.
"You know this ship, don't you? How?"
"Long story. I'll tell it after you've got that antidote in your system."
"I'll hold you to that promise." They both know what he's really saying is I promise to live long enough to hear your story.
In another five minutes the ship sets sail.
Storybrooke 1:29 pm
"I'll wear it loose now," Cora says when Regina begins to pin up the mound of mahogany-and-gray hair. "I like the styles the women here are using. In fact, I saw something in a shop window yesterday that looked quite comfortable and yet feminine. This." Cora conjures a stylish pantsuit and lays it out on Regina's bed. Regina wonders if it's a copy or if Cora has stolen it from Modern Fashions.
Regina notices that Cora's produced only outer garments, so she conjures some suitable lingerie for her mother: an underwire bra, sure to irritate Cora's tender skin, and a pair of gray granny panties. Regina permits herself a quick smirk as Cora struggles to get into the bra—and then Regina notices that Cora has simply dropped the damp bathrobe onto the bedroom floor beside the bed, as though she expects a maid to tidy up behind her. Regina wheels about to pick up the robe and hang it on a hook in the closet.
"We really must take some of these marvelous inventions with us when we leave this village," Cora muses. "The carriages—so much cleaner than horses! And the microwave and the coffee maker and the—"
"Leave?" Regina interrupts.
Cora scoffs. "Well, yes, dear. Once we have Henry and your enemies are vanquished, surely you won't want to stay in this land. You were meant to be a queen of a great nation, not the ruler of some backwater village. With all the powers I'll have, we may not need beans to create a portal; I'm sure I'll be able to create one myself. And then the whole world will be ours. We'll start with the Enchanted Forest, and one by one we will conquer the other magic realms, and you will be queen of—everything!"
Queen of nothing, more like, Regina realizes; wherever they go, Regina may be the one wearing the crown but Cora will be the ruler behind the velvet curtain. Regina, and Henry after her, can be no more than puppets to the new Dark One.
Unless, perhaps in the moments of confusion as the dark curse transfers from Rumple to Cora, Regina were to seize the dagger. . . .
Ah, Mother, Regina reflects. You should be proud of your little girl.
Jolly Roger 1:39 pm
Snow can't bear the not knowing. Worse, she can't bear the guilt. Snow phones her daughter.
"Can't hear you," Emma shouts into the phone. "We're at sea. We'll have to text." And she shoots off a text message to reiterate the point.
Where are you? Snow texts back.
One of these days when they're all just sitting around drinking cocoa on a rainy afternoon, Emma really must teach Snow to abbreviate. It would save so much time. Hook's ship. Leaving NY. ETA 1 hr.
There's panic in the text as Snow fires back: Where's Hook?
Locked up. Will xpln latr. Then Emma figures out the real import of the question and adds We're safe. Don't worry.
Everyone out looking for R & C. If we catch them, you can bring him in.
Emma's tempted to retort: A) how are they going to find two witches who can make themselves invisible, transport themselves, transform themselves into something or someone else? And B) if by some miracle the witches are captured, how are they to be confined? But Snow and David are doing their best and right now, this is the only hope they have.
Or is it?
Wait a sec. Emma storms down the stairs to Hook's cabin. At the last step she brings herself up short, not by the sight of a dying man whose chest is turning orange, the skin bubbling and curdling, but by the smell—of Hook. Salty, of course, but also spicy and teasingly masculine.
Emma gathers her wits, shakes her head to clear her nose. "Henry, go up top."
"Why?" the boy protests. This is an awful test for him. He's bouncing around today between childhood and manhood, and right now he's acting a bit like a petulant eleven-year-old. "Grandpa needs me."
"I need to talk to him alone." Emma's blunt; there's no time to massage egos.
"You mean, you think I'm too young to hear what you're going to say."
"Yes."
Gold licks his chapped lips and bails them out by sending Henry on a mission. "Do as your mother says, Henry. While you're at it, do me a favor: tell your father don't sail into port. We need to stay at least five miles beyond Storybrooke, out of the range of magic."
Casting Emma a dirty look, but giving her props for her honesty, Henry leaves to fulfill his mission.
Emma wastes no time on niceties. "I've got Mary Margaret on the phone. They're out looking for Regina and Cora. If they can catch them, we're okay. Any ideas where to look, beyond the obvious? Does she have any secret places, retreats? Would she go to that cabin of yours?"
"She doesn't know it exists. She hates the woods, hates getting dirty. Cora too; the woods remind her of her blue-collar past."
"That eliminates the west. It's about ten miles from City Hall to the town line going north, eight miles going south, lot of ground to cover. Obviously they're not going to hide in the heavily populated parts of town. Does she have second home somewhere? A houseboat or something? A secret lover?"
"The stables." Then Gold shakes his head. "But Cora would never go there."
"A friend?"
Gold's heart is beating irregularly; it's difficult to think logically. "Not since Sidney disappeared. But now that his apartment is empty, she could have gone there."
"Disappeared? I thought he just got another job someplace and—oh, yeah." Emma suddenly realizes Sidney could not have left town. "Guess we got another missing person case I'll need to look into. Funny nobody's reported him gone."
"Jefferson," Gold guesses. "Not a friend, but Regina uses him from time to time." He mutters under his labored breath, "As I have."
Emma texts these guesses to Snow, who relays them to the search party. "Any other guesses?"
Gold's mouth moves somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "Why don't we flush her down?"
"Do you mean 'flush her out'?"
But instead of answering, he shifts onto his side and reaches for his backside.
Emma thinks this is a strange time to be correcting a wedgie, but the way the man's hand is trembling, he's going to need some help with it. She sits on the narrow bed. "You, uh, want me to, uh?"
"My phone. I can't reach it."
"Oh, sure." Gingerly she pursues the lump in his left back pocket and sighs in relief when the object she retrieves on the first try proves to be a phone. She hands it to him and he falls onto his back as he flips it open and scrolls through the contacts. "You have her number."
"Indeed I do. I've had Regina's number for a very long time." His fingers jab at the keys as his eyes fog over. He wonders if he'll lose his vision first, then perhaps his hearing and his speech.
"Wait," Emma stays his hand. "She can track your location if she knows your phone's IP address."
"I'm willing to gamble that she doesn't know that."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't. Besides, there's nothing she can do to us here. No magic and no contacts in the area." He dials and clears his throat, forcing strength into his voice as the phone rings and rings.
"Ah, Rumple. How nice of you to call. Having a wonderful vacation?"
"Regina. Yes, wonderful. The museums, the theatre, the parks, the zoo, all quite impressive. You really must visit sometime."
She chuckles humorlessly. "I'll wait for your home movies, thank you just the same. Rumple, dear, it seems the phone reception is poor today: your voice is so weak I can barely hear you. Or is that because of your sudden illness? Mother and I extend our hardiest get-well wishes, by the way."
"Sudden illness? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"You men and your macho attitudes," Regina scoffs. "There's no shame in admitting to a bout of the flu or a cold or. . . or a sudden case of dying."
He manages a convincing derisive laugh. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Oh come now, Rumple, you needn't hide your weaknesses from me. I know them all already. See?"
His phone issues a quick beep and he holds it away from his ear to see the screen. A photo appears in the tiny monitor. His face falls as he turns the phone around for Emma to see: it's his dagger, but the first three letters of his name have faded away.
Emma covers her mouth.
He draws in a cleansing breath before resuming his conversation. "Ah, so that's where that pesky knife got off to. Quite the toy you have there, Regina. But as I'm sure you're aware, useless. Not even sharp enough to slice bread."
"Useless for now. But as soon as you return to Storybrooke. . . . How soon will you be returning to Storybrooke, dear? Mother and I do miss you and Emma."
"And Henry," he adds. "I've discovered what these Americans say is actually true: vacations really do bring family together."
"So you've reunited with your son, then."
"As expected, but I've also discovered I have family I wasn't even aware of, and all this time, living just a few blocks away from me."
"What are you talking about, Rumple?" She's nervous now; he has her on the ropes, a tiny payback for the theft of his dagger.
"Not telling. Not just yet, anyway. Perhaps after my return we'll meet at Granny's for one big happy family reunion. By the way, dear, the reason I called—I do seem to have come down with a bug of some sort; you're right. Probably those oysters we had last night. Anyway, I was hoping you'd do a small favor for me."
"Why certainly, Rumple." Sarcasm is laced through every letter of each word in her reply. "I always have time for you."
"In the back of my shop, in the cupboard nearest the back door, you'll find an ornamental box. Belonged to an apothecary from Xi Jen. In this box is a vial containing a blue liquid. It's a concoction I use from time to time when my stomach acts up; the only thing that seems to work for me. If you could get it for me and overnight it to my hotel, I would be most appreciative. I would owe you a favor," he adds meaningfully.
"I would be happy to. Where is your hotel?"
"The Downtown Hilton, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
"I'll send it out this afternoon."
"I wouldn't have troubled you, interrupting your own family reunion, but before I left I placed a protection spell on my shop, you see, so you're the only one who can break through it."
"I see."
"Foolish of me, I suppose, but after the number of break-ins I've experienced recently, I thought it best to take precautions."
"No problem, Rumple. I'm glad to do it."
"Thank you, dear. I'll look forward to receiving that package. And Henry sends his regards. I'd let you talk to him but my son took him and Emma to a place called—what was it again? Yankee Stadium? Thank you again, darling. See you soon."
He hangs up and struggles to replace the phone in his pocket; Emma guides his hand. And then he promptly leans over the side of the bed and vomits into Hook's trunk.
"Good thing Hook won't be needing those clothes soon," Emma says dryly. "Was that a comment on your conversation with Regina or are you feeling worse?" She hands him a cup of water to rinse his mouth.
"Text Snow. Tell them to get to my shop. They'll have to wait at the back door until Regina breaks the protection spell."
"You think Regina really will go there?" Even as she speaks, Emma's fingers are typing. He doesn't understand the multi-tasking capabilities of this younger generation.
"It's our best shot. I think she's going to wonder if that vial really does contain the medication I need to save myself, and she won't be able to rest until she knows for sure."
"Does it?"
"Not that vial. Tell Snow that while the others are fighting Regina and Cora, she should to look in display case that my cash register sits on. Look for the Mickey Mouse phone. The bottom screws open; inside she'll find another vial." He presses a forearm against his burning eyes. "That's the one."
Emma's still typing. "And the other vial? The one you told Regina about?"
He grins weakly. "I'm hoping she'll open it. Tell Snow if Regina doesn't open the vial, she should—and immediately toss its contents on Regina and Cora."
"Why, what is it?"
"Squid ink."
"Gold, you are one smart cookie." Emma slaps his leg, then hastily apologizes for the pain.
"This is what they call 'an ambush.' You just need to read some westerns, Emma."