A/N - Things are about to get hairy for our characters, so some trigger warnings the cover the next 4-5 chapters: there will be peril and there may be character injury, death, or both. Nothing too terribly graphic (this isn't Game of Thrones,) but I am a better safe than sorry kind of person. If you are particularly sensitive to these things, I am happy to spoil via PM.

There's a tiny homage in here to a song that's served as inspiration for this story. Bonus points to anyone who catches it.

As always, thanks to everyone who reads, favs and follows, and especially to those of you who review... it means the world. And a double-thanks to textbookone for continuing to take time out of her crazy schedule to keep my spelling accurate, grammar solid, and serve as a sounding board as I plow forward through this crazy tale.

-DSB

Bae blinked a few times, squinting against the low glow of the fire. He shifted himself - carefully - so as not to touch Emma. It seemed that every time he shifted positions in the night, he managed to brush against her, causing her to jump out of her skin. He knew that sleeping side-by-side wasn't ideal; she didn't love it and he didn't blame her. But she no longer woke shivering in the morning, so as far as he was concerned, the effort was well worth it.

Gingerly he leaned back, looking towards Emma in order to judge how much space he had to roll. To his surprise, he found himself with as much space as he wanted - he was alone on the pallet. He looked to the fire, expecting to find her huddled near it - but the only thing he found accompanying him in the alcove were shadows. "Emma?" He said, sitting up and glancing around, expecting that perhaps he'd somehow missed her. But she neither answered nor appeared, and his worry rose. "Emma?" Still nothing, just the low crackle of the burning logs to fill the cave's silence.

By this time he was on his feet, heart racing as he descended into panic. "EMMA!" He went to dart out of the alcove when she appeared around the corner - and out of sheer relief, he pulled her into an embrace. Immediately, he felt her tense - and as quickly as he registered his own actions, he released her.

"Goodness, Bae, what happened?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I... you were gone." The peculiar look upon her face made him feel downright foolish - Emma wide-eyed, her expression a mixture of shock and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He stepped back, ducking his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact."

"I was just rinsing out some clothes," she said, gesturing idly in the direction of the waterfall. "I'm sorry to have scared you!"

"You needn't apologize, Princess. I'm the one who should be sorry. There was no need for me to react like that."

And there wasn't, truly. What had come over him? He hasn't felt panic like that, since... well, his nightmares, he supposed. His father loosening his grip, the neverending tumble into a world of loneliness. Or since the Darlings, when the Shadow had come to tear their family apart. Perhaps that's all that it was, panic that he'd lost Emma - that he'd failed in his promise to return her to her parents unscathed.

Certainly it couldn't be for his own selfish reasons - he couldn't need her in that way. His role was to keep her safe, and to get her home. He couldn't come to rely on her to heal that centuries-old wound - not when she'd go back to her life at the end of this, leaving that wound gaping once more. He couldn't.

He simply wouldn't allow it.

He shook himself off, inhaling sharply. Glancing about, he considered their surroundings - drab. Mundane. Stifling. Suffocating. Emma was acting strangely and it seemed that he, too, was beginning to go crazy. He needed to get them out of the confined space. Though he knew there was no way Emma would agree to move, perhaps he could talk her into an excursion - he suspected it was just what they needed.

Days had passed since the encounter in the cottage, Rumplestiltskin having promised to put forth his best effort towards a solution for locating the young newlyweds. And in true fashion, he'd simply appeared in the castle, commanding the attention of the Prince and offering his best effort at a solution: a locator spell.

"So it works like when you enchanted Snow's ring for me."

"Not exactly," Rumple replied. "That requires an item of great significance. This one is a bit less fussy. We simply pour a few drops onto an article owned by one of the children and it will lead us to them."

"But?"

"As I told you, I've run into some difficulties keeping pace with the items on foot. Snow suggested following on horseback, which seems as good a plan as any."

"All right," Charming said. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "There's no telling how long we'll be out there. You might want to pack a bag."

The prince's brow furrowed. "The way I see it, you owe me right now. You delivered my daughter into your son's clutches and now he's dragged her off to who knows where. So no - I don't want to pack a bag. I expect you'll see to my needs as they arise."

"So confident," Rumplestiltskin replied, unable to hide the a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's been awhile since we've spent time together, your highness, so I might remind you that unlike the rest of your subjects, I don't bend to your whims. Despite your insistence to the contrary, my son is missing every bit as much as your daughter. As a gesture of goodwill, I am allowing you to accompany me. Though you're certainly welcome to go back to having your little wolf sniff around if you so prefer..."

Charming stared him down for a moment. "We leave in twenty minutes," he said. Then he stomped off, presumably to pack the bag he insisted he didn't need.

Emma padded back from the waterfall, the last of the persimmons they'd picked before the frost in her hand. Bae had asked her to rinse them off while he finished preparing the morning's catch. She rounded the corner, expecting to see him plating the squirrel he'd roasted. Instead, she found him gingerly loading it into his satchel.

"Whatever are you doing?" she asked.

"Come," he said, extending a hand to drag her along to the entrance of the cave. He'd slung the satchel over his shoulder and grabbed his blanket as well, mystifying her completely as she clung to the fruit in her hand. "We've been in this cave nearly a month," he continued, "and it's a mild day outside. We're going to have a picnic."

"But-" she began, only to be shushed by his finger over her lips.

"No buts. We're seen nary a trace of anyone seeking to harm us, and you are in desperate need of sunlight. You've been skulking around here these last weeks - I think the dank cave is addling your spirit."

"That's unkind, Bae!" she replied, affronted.

"It's the truth, dear Emma," he rebutted, tugging her out between the rocks and leading her into a grassy glade a short distance away. "So we'll be taking advantage of this bit of Indian Summer."

After he spread the blanket out, he dropped the satchel and gestured for her to sit. She complied, settling onto a corner of the blanket. Once he had done the same, she tossed him one of the pieces of fruit she'd been carrying.

"Thanks," he said, pulling the satchel over and lifting out the flattened rocks they'd grown accustomed to using as plates.

He passed her a portion of the meat and they ate quietly, laughing about the madness of the early winter weather... Frigid to springlike and then back again. The next freeze would be the one to stick, Bae insisted, and Emma deferred to his knowledge of the subject.

Once they'd finished eating, Emma lay back on the threadbare blanket, blades of grass poking through to tickle her skin and pepper her hair. She crossed her arms under her head and gazed skyward, watching the clouds for a minute before untangling an arm and pointing up. "There," she said. "It looks like a pony."

Bae looked across at her and furrowed his brow. "What?" he asked, looking around, concerned. "Where's a pony?"

"In the clouds, silly," she replied. Seeing his blank look in response, she asked him, "Have you never played this game? Finding shapes in the clouds?"

He shook his head, no, and she sighed. "My mother and I used to play it all the time after lazy afternoon picnics - Daddy, too, when we could persuade him. Look, it's easy. Lay back like this," she said, gesturing to her current position, "and just use your imagination a bit."

"You have imagination?" he needled, smiling. "My, princess Emma, aren't you ever full of surprises. Here I thought you were all snark and seriousness."

"Oh, shush," she replied, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, just try it."

Shooting her a skeptical glance, he lay back, mimicking her posture. He looked skyward, and after a moment, she pointed up again. "See? A turtle!"

"Okay, I can see that," he conceded, laughing a bit. He watched the clouds roll by, before raising his own arm to point. "Look, a dragon!"

"Fire-breathing and all," she giggled. "What else do you see?"

"Ooh, that one looks like a pheasant liver!"

She wrinkled her nose even as she laughed. "Bae! That's disgusting!"

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. "Guess I've got supper on the brain."

She watched, still giggling, as he tilted his face back skyward, closing his eyes to the winter sun as he let the rays warm his face. She reached down to brush a bit of grass off of her arm, finding herself absentmindedly counting the blades that were poking through the blanket. She traced a trail along them with her eyes, making it five past a hundred before she found the row interrupted, Bae's arm in the way.

Her eyes widened a bit as they darted up to his face - finding him thankfully oblivious of her - and she began to blush, realizing she'd been measuring the distance between them. Pathetic, Emma, she told herself, this has officially moved into pathetic territory.

Continuing on in this manner just wasn't feasible... the pining, the ducking out of conversations when they pressed too close to her true feelings. Pining was simply not her style - it needed to stop. She'd tried ignoring her feelings, hoping they'd go away - no success. Completely the opposite, if she were being frank, having moved from the butterflies of a school girl's crush to the humbling realization that she'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant she could save this boy pain and heartache. He'd endured far too much already.

The only thing she could fathom to do was to figure out how to simply accept her feelings as fact without acting on them. She'd fallen for him, it was true, but on his end she merely found the same protective spirit that he'd exuded from the day they'd married. Except - he was awfully panicked this morning, a tiny voice whispered, perhaps he's grown more attached than he lets on?

Perhaps offering him a word of encouragement, giving him an inkling that she was open to legitimacy in their marriage, she thought, glancing his direction. She considered it momentarily, then gathered her wits about her - no. They had an agreement: comrades, consoled by their joint misery. To upset that balance could be disastrous - these 'what if' flights of fancy would have to cease.

If only she could figure out how.

Bae's voice pulled her from her reverie. "Beetle." She furrowed her brow as she looked at him, attempting to clear her mind. "You know, a bug, little hunchbacked thing with half a dozen legs," he said, continuing on as she tried to make sense of his words.

"Ah, of course," she replied, voice soft as her gaze shifted back to the sky above them. "I see it now," she lied, and it was his turn to furrow his brow as he noted the sudden shift in her mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and she plastered on her best fake smile as she turned back to look at him.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He frowned, and she knew he saw through her lie - as he always did - but thankfully he chose not to push the subject. They half-heartedly exchanged a few more whimsical cloud shapes before dark clouds appeared out towards the horizon.

"Looks like there's a storm brewing," she told him, her vantage point allowing her a better view westward.

He rolled over, landing immediately next to her, and she willed herself to ignore the proximity. Propping his chin on his hands, he followed where her gaze was fixed. "Indeed," he replied. "It's probably best to pack the picnic and head under cover."

She nodded, sitting up and gathering the things from her side of the blanket in silence. Once their items had been properly stowed in the satchel, they returned to the cave.

"That was nice... We should do it again sometime," Bae offered.

"It was foolhardy and dangerous," she replied, response barely audible as she muttered under her breath. Of course the danger he heard her talking about wasn't the danger she meant - that was the emotional turmoil that she sat precariously at the edge of. Emma tried to reconcile the fact that she'd broken her own promise to herself, the one where she was supposed to lock up anything extending beyond friendly fondness under lock and key. The one where she swore she wouldn't continue to allow feelings to develop that weren't reciprocated, the one where she vowed to stomp her affections down and never let them show.

But as she wrestled with her emotions, it was in fact the other kind of danger that sprung to mind. She heard a noise down towards the mouth of the cave, a solid forty feet away but sounding imperceptibly closer in the cave's echoey silence. Looking over at Bae, she found him entrenched in unpacking the remnants of their picnic, organizing the items into tidy piles as he always did. "Did you hear that?" she hissed softly, and he looked up at her, puzzled.

"Hear what?" he replied, paying no mind to his volume. Emma shot a cross look his direction before once again replying in a whisper.

"That noise... it sounded like footsteps."

Bae opened his mouth - undoubtedly to tell her not to be foolish; they were both standing in the alcove and who else would cause footsteps to echo through the cave? But a third voice rang out before he could speak, causing the duo to freeze in their spots. The only thing that escaped the instant paralyzation were their eyes, which flew in tandem to the spot in the archway where their visitor stood.

"Aye, it did sound like footsteps, didn't it?"

The pirate chuckled, apparently amused by the twin expressions of wide-eyed surprise that served as a response to his appearance. But while Emma's remained frozen in shock, Bae's only hung there for an imperceivable moment before a glare overtook his face - one that Emma had only ever seen aimed in the direction of his father.

"Well, hello, lad," the pirate said, responding to the glare, "Been a while, hasn't it?"