Hello readers - and welcome to another adventure - this one is going to be a doozy! I'm really pushing my boundaries here, and to tell you the truth, I'm not really sure where we're going entirely. I know where we end up...just haven't quite figured out how and when we get there. I know this one is probably making you scratch your head a bit, but bear with me...it'll start getting clearer, I promise. In the meantime, enjoy cautious Killian and flirty Emma, because things are going to get even stranger.

And as for my upcoming fics - in addition to the Thanksgiving fic I put up last Thursday on You Had Me At Malfeasance, I also have another stupendous fic idea waiting in the wings after this one that should span the entire hiatus, so this one may be a bit shorter than you usually see from me to accommodate the launch of the hiatus fic.

But for now...back to our regularly scheduled story. Let's see what the hell Storybrooke is doing at the top of a beanstalk, shall we?

TWO WEEKS EARLIER...

Mr. Gold looked up from the ledger book he was perusing, and the ever-so-slight lifting of his brows was the only outward sign of his surprise at seeing the man who walked through his door.

"There's a face I've not seen in a long while," he remarked casually. "What brings you in?"

"I happened to find myself on this side of town," George remarked. "And I'm in the market for an artifact. Something tells me you've got it."

"I have a good many artifacts," Gold said, gesturing around him. "Was there something in particular?"

George's pale eyes held his. "A compass."

Gold didn't so much as twitch in response. "A compass." He reached beneath him, pulling out a velvet-lined drawer, holding a variety of compasses and pocket watches. "See anything you like?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"It's not here."

Gold slid the drawer back into the case beneath him. "I do recall asking if it was something particular," he reminded. "Am I to assume you're looking for a certain compass?"

George stared him down a moment. "Yes," he finally bit out. "A magical compass."

"Ah," Gold said, finally seeing the light. "The magical compass that Snow White and Emma used to return to our realm?"

"Yes."

"Can't help you." Gold started to close up the ledger, but got stymied by George's hand, slamming down on the book.

"You know where it is." George made it a statement, not a question.

"Well, of course I do. Snow and Emma kept it. A memento of sorts, I'm sure." He eyed George shrewdly. "And knowing the warm relationship you've cultivated with the Prince and Princess, I doubt you'll talk them into loaning it to you."

George stood a moment, drumming his fingers lightly on the glass countertop. "Do you have others?" he asked at last.

"Other compasses? I've just shown them to you."

"Other magical compasses." He was clearly getting irritated, and the smile lifting the corner of Gold's mouth said he knew it.

"No, I'm afraid that compass is singularly unique in what it does," Gold replied. "But you know that, or you wouldn't be seeking it. The question is...what are you seeking it for?"

George's jaw tightened, and he turned on his heel, stalked over to the door and left, slamming it behind him.

###

BACK TO THE PRESENT...

Emma walked cautiously forward down the road, with Killian just a few steps behind.

"I don't see any giants," she said over her shoulder. "This place looks nothing like what I was told it would be."

"And who told you about it?" Killian asked. "George?"

"Yeah."

"He's been up here?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Please. George do his own dirty work? Not if he can help it. He sent his son, James, who - according to George - dropped the compass while he was running to get away from the giant. Then he got stomped."

Killian raised his brows. "Stomped?"

"Smushed flat." She looked back at him. "So let's try to avoid the giants if we can, okay?"

"A sound strategy," he agreed, quickening his pace to walk beside her. "You're certain he said there would be a castle?"

"I'm certain that he was certain there would be, yes."

"So this is unexpected all around," Killian mused, rubbing his beard. "Why would Storybrooke be at the top of a beanstalk?"

"You know this place?" Emma raised her brows in surprise.

"I've heard of it."

Emma stopped walking again, turning to face him. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

He didn't even bother to stop, or to answer her. He just kept walking.

"Hey!" She jogged up next to him. "What aren't you telling me?"

He gave her a cocky grin. "If I told you that, then I would be telling you. And I'm choosing not to do so."

Emma looked offended. "Have I given you a reason not to trust me? I got you here, didn't I?"

"You've given me several reasons not to trust you," Killian explained, "The greatest of which is that you're working for King George."

"You and George have a beef with each other?" Emma asked. "Did he try to take over your kingdom or something like that?"

"Something like that," Killian said evasively. "And he attacked us in an attempt to get my ship."

"My ship."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law, love."

Emma moved around in front of him. "And you look like a man who can be...possessive," she noted, giving him a sly smile.

"Oh, you have no idea."

She reached out, trailing her fingers along his arm. "Maybe I'd like to be...possessed. Just for a little while."

A muscle ticked in Killian's jaw, and his eyes were clearly burning with what her words kindled inside him. "What did I say about teasing me?"

"Ohhh..." Emma slid her hand up and around his neck, bringing her lips a hairsbreadth from his. "What if I'm not teasing?"

"You'll forgive me if I question your agenda," he said, not moving away. His body was rigid, clearly showing it to be an effort not to take what she was offering.

Emma stepped back with a shrug. "No agenda. I just think you'd be interesting for awhile. And I've been around enough to know you're feeling it, too."

He closed his eyes, reigning himself in. "You clearly don't know me at all," he said quietly. "Come on. We're nearly there." He started walking again and Emma hurried to catch up.

"And where is there, exactly?" she asked grumpily.

"The town. We were on the outskirts."

"And you think we'll find the compass there?"

"Possibly. Where else would we look? I don't see a castle anywhere, let alone a giant," Killian pointed out.

"You don't suppose there's a tavern there, do you? I'm starving."

The road beneath them gave way to painted crosswalks and sidewalks on either side as they entered the town. Emma glanced up curiously at the stoplights and gave the cars more than a few second glances.

"What sort of a place is this, anyway?" she asked. "Everything is so...weird. Where are the horses?"

"The conveyances run without them," Killian said. "Or so I've been led to believe."

"And just where did you hear about this place?" Emma pressed. "You didn't say."

"No, I didn't."

Killian kept walking, obviously not going to expand on that point. Emma made a hmmphing sound and walked alongside him. A few moments later, Killian came to an abrupt stop, staring up at the glowing sign over one of the establishments.

"Smee's," Emma read. "It looks like a tavern. There are tables and chairs."

"Aye, it is. Let's go in and see what we can discover."

Emma cocked her head to one side. "You buying?"

"Why? Because I'm a prince?"

"And a gentleman. Either that or you prefer gentlemen," she added in a grumble.

"What?" He looked at her incredulously. "What would give you that idea?"

"Your buddy Robin is awfully pretty. And I've never known a man to resist what I'm offering."

Killian's jaw tightened. "Maybe some of us find it unappealing that you offer it so freely."

Emma made a childish pouty face. "Awwww...is your little princess holding out on you? You got a thing for virtuous women?"

He cracked a reluctant smile. "Not virtuous. Just selective."

"And she hasn't selected you?"

He didn't meet her eyes as he held the door for her. "Not yet."

"What a shame," she said over her shoulder as she entered the restaurant. "I'd've been all over you. And under. And in front of, and on my - "

"Enough." He prodded her forward. "Now sit down and put some food in that mouth."

She took a seat in a nearby booth. "Sheesh. I was discussing stuffing my mouth. You just didn't like it," she smirked.

Killian raised a brow, refusing to be baited. Emma rolled her eyes and turned to address the waiter, who had just approached the table.

"Well, hello..." she said, eyeing the man with clear interest. "What's your name?"

"Will," he replied, giving her an answering grin. "Will Scarlet." He leaned in, putting his hands down on the table, no doubt knowing that in the tight red tank top he was wearing, his muscular arms were shown to their best advantage. "And who might you be?"

"She's with me." Killian answered, in an icy tone. "We'll have two of the day's special."

Will gave Killian an appraising look, then turned to smile at Emma again. "And what are you drinking, love?"

"Don't call her that." Killian's eyes flashed a warning now, and Will was smart enough to back off. He slowly straightened up.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Just making conversation."

"Make it elsewhere," Killian suggested with a good deal of menace. "And we'll both have rum."

"Rum it is," Will replied, hurrying off to the back. Emma leaned her chin on her hand and smiled widely.

"See?" she remarked. "Possessive. I knew it."

"We're not here to flirt," he reminded her.

"If you say so," she conceded with a sigh. "But I do like the way his pants cling to his -"

"Emma." He crooked a brow and stared her down.

"So now what?" she finally asked. "Do we just start asking door to door for a compass?"

"If you can keep your hands and your words in check, I believe I should be able to question our server and get some information."

Emma leaned back in her chair, spreading her hands. "He's all yours...unless you two would like to share me."

He gave her a dark look, refusing to answer that one, and Will re-entered through the swinging door with plates of food, a bottle of rum and two glasses. He set it all down on the table.

"Just a moment," Killian interrupted him as he turned to go. "Perhaps you can help us. We've only just arrived in Storybrooke and we're looking for someplace where we can purchase interesting and hard-to-find items. Is there such a shop in town?"

"Oh, you mean the pawnbroker and antiques dealer?"

"Yes, that would be the place," Killian answered.

Will looked surprised, and he glanced around, leaning in. "You need to be careful there, mate," Will warned in a low voice. "The owner has a fondness for making deals that don't always turn out to your advantage, if you get my meaning."

Killian's hand tightened into a fist. "Indeed I do."

"I'm sure he'll be no problem," Emma said confidently.

"I doubt anyone would give you a problem," Will said, grinning.

"Is Mr. Smee about?" Killian broke in. "He and I are old friends."

"He's in the back. I can bring him round if you'd like," Will offered.

"Please do." Killian's tone was dismissive, and Emma smiled tauntingly at his open hostility.

"Possessive..." she murmured under her breath as Will hurried off to the back again. She reached down and picked up a french fry. "What exactly are these?"

"They're a sort of potato, I believe." He reached over, picking up the bottle of ketchup on the table. "Try dipping them in this."

Emma poured a pool of ketchup onto her plate, and swirled a fry around in it. She sniffed it cautiously, then put it in her mouth.

"Mmmmmm..." she moaned. "These are delicious." She swirled another fry in ketchup, then held Killian's eyes as she slowly licked the ketchup off. "You should try," she said with a smirk. Killian opened his mouth to reprimand her again and was interrupted by Mr. Smee, resplendant in a white, frilly apron, emerging from the back. Sweat was beading on his forehead and it took a moment for Killian to realize why he looked so odd.

"Where's your hat?"

"Excuse me?" He looked a little baffled. "I don't usually wear a chef's hat. We're not much on pomp and circumstance in Storybrooke."

"I see," Killian replied. "I believe we may have previously met."

"Sorry...no," Smee replied blankly. "Or, if we did, I don't remember it. Although things have been kind of jumbled these last few weeks."

"Here, too?" Emma asked. "Did you guys get hit like we did?"

"If you mean, did we all wake up on the opposite side of town and totally confused, then yes, we got hit."

Killian's eyes met Emma's and she gave a tiny shrug.

"Where are you headed after this?" Mr. Smee asked. "If you're staying the night, I have rooms around the back for let."

"We have to go see the antique dealer," Emma said. She gave Killian a cheeky glance. "Then we'll talk about a room."

Mr. Smee's eyes went wide and he audibly gulped. "You - you're going to see...him?"

"Him?" Emma said, around the fry she shoved in her mouth.

"The Dark One." Smee glanced around nervously. "Be careful there. Don't make a deal with him, whatever you do."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "So this is where he is."

Killian reached out, grabbing her arm as she tried to stand. "Wait - that's your agenda? The Dark One?"

"My agenda is none of your business," she said coldly. "Now let me go."

"We'll go together," Killian replied. "We need his help, whether you like it or not."

Emma gave him a fuming look and Killian turned to Smee again. "Is he there now?"

Smee nodded shakily. "He should be. Just make a left out the door and follow main street down. His shop is at the end on the left."

"Thank you." Killian stood, keeping his hand on Emma's arm as he walked with her to the door. Mr. Smee called out to them as they stepped outside.

"Be careful!" he warned again. "Mr. Charming is not a man to be trifled with."