Chapter 23

Waters off the Enchanted Forest, present day

Blackbeard collapsed onto his bunk, clasped his hands at his knees and hung his head. How had it come to this? What had he become? God above, he'd just harmed—maybe even killed—a woman! It didn't matter that she was Hook's woman; it didn't matter that hurting her may have hurt him more than anything Blackbeard could have done to the man himself. She was innocent; he had no quarrel with her.

Blackbeard was thankful that he was the captain. As such, Ursula had afforded him the luxury of his own stateroom within her castle. He needed to be alone now, alone with his failure, with his doubt, with his guilt. It wouldn't do to have his crew—even a crew of slaves—see him like this.

The memories kept repeating over and over again. The blonde woman attacking him, the struggle, him twisting to avoid her punches—and inadvertently striking her with the heavy beam, her crashing through the wall. And the blood, all the blood that had surrounded her.

Though the waters had nearly covered him, Hook kept shouting for her, begging her to come back to him, yelling about 'the baby'. So it was worse than Blackbeard had even believed when he'd first begun to fight the woman. She was with child.

He might have just killed a woman who was with child! A silky, seductive voice in the back of his mind whispered that it was nothing but sweet justice. An eye for an eye. Blackbeard had been listening to that voice far too much since Anne's death, but suddenly it sickened him. His quarrel was with Hook, not with Hook's wife and unborn baby. With that single act tonight, he had proven that he was no better than the man who had killed his sister!

"Captain?" came a voice from the other side of his door.

"Aye?" he asked woodenly.

"Ursula's calling for you."

Lovely. Just what he needed, a confrontation with the old hag!

He sighed. "Very well. Tell her I will be with her momentarily."

Blackbeard walked to the small table where he kept his washbasin and pitcher. What exactly was the purpose of the items? He lived in a pool of water! He leaned against the table and looked into the oval-shaped mirror that hung on the wall above. A pale face and haggard eyes met him.

He was less than the shell of the man he once was, the man he wanted to be. Oh, he could blame Ursula and her damn soul-harvesting spell, but it was more than that. He'd expunged all the honor he'd once had, replaced it with hate. The ends did not justify the means, not when the means included attacking pregnant women.

Best he meet up with Ursula sooner rather than later. She'd sent out her sycophantic eels on a quest for more souls to steal. It meant she was weakening; far more than she'd want to admit. She would be at her weakest now before she had a fresh infusion of power. Perhaps he'd succeed in besting her tonight.

"Captain, Captain," Ursula said, shaking her head and pasting a sad pout on her ugly face. "Such a long face! I take it your little revenge mission didn't go the way you wanted it to."

"It did not," he ground out.

"Such a shame," she said with stunning insincerity.

"Indeed," he ground out.

"It seems I did you quite the favor bringing you here," she smirked. "You're not worth a damn on land. There you are, all undead and untouchable and everything, and yet you've been bested—twice—by mere mortals!"

"Was there a reason you called me here other than to taunt me with my failures?"

"Taunt? Moi?" she asked, a fat, well-manicured hand coming dramatically to her chest. "I'd never taunt you. Nope, just pointing out reality. You're a failure; might as well give up and get it over with."

Anger rippled through him. "I fail to see where you have room to talk about my failure! If I'm not mistaken, you've been after the trident for a good thirty years, and yet here you are, rapidly draining of your powers, no nearer your prize than you were then. You've gotten nothing but more gray hair and significantly more body fat."

She got up in his face, anger setting her dwindling magical powers surging threw her. "You'll shut your trap if you know what's good for you, you ugly little glow worm!"

Blackbeard crossed his arms over his chest and threw her a sardonic smirk. It seemed to infuriate her even more, and her hand shot out. The magic spell that was no doubt meant to deliver an excruciating blow to his face, felt like little more than the playful boxing of a de-clawed kitten.

She growled. "Where are those slimy fish when you need them? I sent them out after my souls ages ago, and yet have they returned? No, of course not. Meanwhile, here I languish, not even able to punish my slaves properly!"

Blackbeard rolled his eyes. "Have you finished with your pathetic attempt at a villainous monologue?"

"Not even close!" she shouted, a fleck of spit landing on his face. He reached up and flicked it away in disgust. "Just you wait, pirate-pants! Just you wait! Once I've gotten that trident, I'll make your life a living hell. I'll take over the sea, then I'll make my way through the land. Hell, with the mermaids at my disposal, I can even go conquer other realms! There won't be a land or sea you can go to escape me."

Oh wasn't that a lovely thought!

"So," she continued, obviously attempting to regain her temper. "Are you with me? What've you come up with as far as Operation Crash Ariel's Wedding, Steal the Trident and Take Over the World is concerned?"

"Ursula," he said drily, "I've got to commend you on your subtlety with regard to the naming of your mission—no one would ever guess what you're up to."

"Who cares if they do?" she asked. "They tick me off too much, I'll just take their souls. So how about it? Got the plan worked out yet?"

How thick did she think he was? She threatens to make his life a living hell and then demands he provide her with the blue prints with which to do so? Stupidity wedded to arrogance with a dash of absolute power was a frightening combination!

"If you'd leave me to my chambers where I can think straight, I might be able to provide you with a plan that much more quickly, "

"Oh don't tell me you were down there furiously working on plans for me," she scoffed. "I know better. You were down there crying your eyes out because your hunk of a nemesis escaped your clutches again."

He gave her a cold smile, determined not to rise to her bait. "Regardless, I'm getting nowhere with your plan while you stand there mocking and insulting me, now am I?"

"Guess not," she said glumly. "Alright, go ahead, do your thing. But no funny business, bucko! I'm warning you!"

"And you have me quaking in my boots, madam," he drawled.

She growled. "Just go before I forget I'm a lady and do something I'd regret."

….

Early the next morning, Blackbeard walked confidently along the deserted cobblestone road of the village. Escaping from Ursula's clutches had been almost embarrassingly easy this time. He'd crept from his state room a good two hours before dawn and listened carefully until he heard Ursula's snores from her suite at the end of the hall. Good grief! That octopus could give a freight train a run for its money when it came to the noise of her snores; it was a wonder he got any sleep at all!

If Ursula had been awake, her power would have been sufficient to stop him, but with her asleep, creeping from the castle had been ridiculously easy. He'd slowly eased the heavy front door open, and stepped out, feeling a slight tug as he passed the threshold. If Ursula had been at the height of her powers, the spell at the door would have been unbreakable. If he'd tried to take a step from the door, it would have tugged him back and thrown him into the entrance hall. As it was, the spell was little more than a momentary hesitation.

Last night Blackbeard had paced the floor for hours, disturbed beyond words at the situation he found himself in. He was consumed with guilt and regret over what had happened with Hook's wife, of course, but there was more than that. Ursula was changing. When he'd first been captured, her whole reason for being seemed to be amassing wealth and luxury. She had no real desire for power other than the way it could help her in the pursuit of her hedonistic agenda. Now…well, now things had changed. She'd begun to lust after the power as much as the luxury

He'd seen it before during his years as a pirate. He'd seen it many times. Men would start out with altruistic intentions, but then they'd acquired some measure of power, and little by little it had seduced them until it consumed them.

Ursula had always struck Blackbeard as ridiculous, far too stupid to be a true threat, but now…if she got that trident…it would be disastrous. It had taken Blackbeard all of fifteen minutes after his audience with the sea witch yesterday to decide he had no intention of willingly helping her anymore, but what was he to do? Aye, he could escape her for a day or two at a time, but she held his soul; he could never truly break free.

Finally, he'd decided that this conundrum demanded more wisdom than he possessed. And when he thought about wisdom and strategy, one person inevitably came to mind—his former mentor, Benjamin Hornigold. If anyone could help him find a way out of the quagmire he'd gotten himself into, it was Hornigold.

So now here he was, walking up the steps to Hornigold's elegant mansion, knocking on the door and waiting to be admitted. A smartly dressed butler opened the door and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Captain Edward Teach to see Captain Hornigold, if you please," Blackbeard said formally.

The butler bowed silently, ushered Blackbeard inside, and walked stiffly off, presumably to find his employer. Less than a minute later, Hornigold rushed forward with hand extended.

"Edward, my boy! Pleasure to see you!"

Blackbeard shook his mentor's hand vigorously.

"It's good to see you, Hornigold!"

"Even given my new avocation?" Hornigold asked with a grin.

Blackbeard shook his head. "A privateer! I'd never have believed the daring pirate Benjamin Hornigold could become a privateer!"

Hornigold chuckled. "It's naught but another form of piracy my boy. It's just that now, I'm hunting pirates, rather than treasure."

Hornigold led Blackbeard into a formal sitting room and requested a mob-capped maid bring them refreshments.

"So, Edward," Hornigold said once his duties of hospitality were completed, "what brings you to my home. I sense this is more than a social call."

"Indeed," Blackbeard said heavily. "The fact is, I've got trouble, and I've no idea how to extricate myself from it."

Then the dam burst. Blackbeard told his mentor everything—Anne's death, his vow of vengeance against Hook, the debacle with the Queen Anne's Revenge, the Evil Queen selling him to Ursula, the two failed revenge attempts, his unease with the current situation.

Hornigold listened silently, occasionally nodding or furrowing his brow. When the whole tale had been told, the older man blew out a long breath. "Quite the predicament you've found yourself in, my lad."

"Indeed," Blackbeard agreed.

"And am I to understand that the little lad you've left in my keeping is part of your revenge plot?"

"Aye," Blackbeard answered. "He is the child of the man the queen loves. My sources tell me she loves him as much as would his own mother. I wished to have leverage with which to blackmail her."

"It's rather clever from a strategic point of view," Hornigold said carefully.

"But…" Blackbeard said, hearing a caveat in his mentor's tone.

Hornigold gave him a speculative look for a second and then beckoned for him to follow after him. Curious, Blackbeard did as he was bid. Hornigold opened a door at the end of a long hallway. Blackbeard peered inside what looked like a whimsical nursery. Toys of every shape and size filled the room. A grandmotherly old woman sat knitting in the corner, a puppy slept curled up on a rug before a roaring fire. It was a little boy's paradise.

But the little boy in question sat at a window seat, peering bleakly out upon the gardens below. At intervals his tiny shoulders shook suspiciously. A tray full of toothsome delicacies sat untouched beside him.

"What is wrong with him?" Blackbeard asked quietly as Hornigold silently closed the door and began walking back toward the sitting room. "Is the lad ill?"

"Not in body," Hornigold answered. "He is homesick, poor lad. He misses his father, and he misses someone named Regina. He's polite, eager to please, but utterly miserable. Nothing I've done can draw him out of his melancholy."

Guilt continued to course through Blackbeard. He'd done this. He'd caused a little boy torment in his quest to punish someone else. It seemed everything he did had dreadful consequences.

"What am I to do, Benjamin?" Blackbeard asked with a deep sigh once both men were once again seated in the parlor.

"It seems, my boy, you are right to avoid a true alliance with the sea witch," he said carefully. "But your other actions seem questionable at best."

"Aye," Blackbeard freely acknowledged. "But how am I to extricate myself from this web, I've woven."

"It would seem to me," Blackbeard said carefully, "that your best option is to align yourself with those who are powerful, those who also oppose the witch."

"Those in the Enchanted Forest palace?" Blackbeard asked incredulously. "Make an alliance with my deepest enemies, those I've sworn vengeance upon?"

Hornigold gave him a pitying look. "'Tis a hard thing even to contemplate, lad. This I know very well. 'Twas grievously that Hook and the queen wronged you, and your rage are understandable."

"But…"

"But you must make a choice," Hornigold said gently. "Will you continue to pursue vengeance until it destroys every last ounce of goodness within you, or will you rise above your pain for the sake of defeating a far greater enemy?"

Blackbeard was silent for long moments, his eyes staring sightlessly out the window. Finally he turned back to Hornigold. "I don't know," he said finally. "And even if I should chose to take a different path how could I hope my enemies would ever aid me after the ways in which I've wounded them?"

"Consider taking yon lad back to his family," Hornigold said. "Returning young Roland to his father's arms will go a long way toward restoring good will."

Enchanted Forest, present day

Emma stepped slowly into the magnificent enclosed garden, and began making her way painfully forward. It had been a week since…it…had happened, and her health was steadily improving. Emma knew that if she was to regain her full strength, she needed to get up, even for small stretches, and get some exercise.

It was frustrating, she was a slow and feeble as an old woman.

She felt like an old woman in more ways than the physical. There was something about grief, pain, and guilt that aged a person far beyond her years. Her mother had insisted that the pain would fade, that she would heal both physically and emotionally. Snow meant well, Emma knew that, but she had no idea what she was talking about. Snow was not responsible for her baby's death; Snow had not lost her husband's love.

Because Emma knew full well that is exactly what had happened. Killian blamed her, and he had stopped loving her. It was in the little things. He hadn't touched her since that first morning when he told her the news. He barely spoke a word to her. He came to bed long after she'd fallen asleep, and was gone by the time she woke in the morning. He was too honorable to leave her outright—particularly given her fragile state of health—but he'd withdrawn from her all the same.

She sighed, and let the tears fall as she wended her way slowly through the rows and rows of beautiful flowers. After a moment, Emma felt a broad hand on her back, and for an instant her heart leapt, hoping Killian had come to join her. She turned and found herself confronted with the knowing, sympathetic eyes of her father.

"Emma, are you alright?" he asked in concern. She shook her head and then stepped into his waiting arms.

"Sh," he said gently, holding her, stroking her hair. "It's going to be alright."

But it wasn't. She knew that full well.

Eventually she pulled away. "Sorry, Dad," she said. "I guess I'm still kind of a mess."

Charming took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, then turning forward he started them walking slowly along. "I know, honey," he said gently. "The loss you've suffered is…well, I have no words for it. You're allowed to fall apart, under the weight of it."

She leaned her head against his broad shoulder. "I know this sounds stupid, but I feel like nothing will be alright…let alone happy…ever again."

"I know," he said simply.

She'd told no on, no one of the full extent of her pain, but suddenly she had to unburden herself.

"Dad," she said hesitantly. "You don't know the half of it."

Charming stopped and led Emma to a bench in the shade. "Then tell me honey. Let me help you."

"It's my fault," she said on a sob. "My fault my baby's dead."

"No," Charming said firmly, shaking his head decidedly. "It's not…"

"Please, Dad, let me finish. I need to get this out."

"Okay."

"Killian asked me to promise I wouldn't take any chances, not with the baby on the way," she said sadly. "I…told him I'd be careful, but at the first test, what did I do? I went after him and an undead-pirate on my own. I didn't even so much as tell anyone where I was going!"

"You were in a panic, honey," Charming said gently. "You were terrified for your husband. Under those circumstances, anyone could lose her head."

Emma shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said bleakly. "Killian will never forgive me. He blames me, and he's right to."

"He said that?" Charming asked sharply.

"He didn't have to," Emma answered, looking down at her lap. "He's turned from me. There's a distance between us. Dad, he was so excited about this baby. It had only been a month, but he already loved the little guy like you wouldn't believe. I killed his baby; how can he get over that?"

Charming gently turned her face so that she was looking at him. "Emma, that man loves you so much that even I, the most overprotective father in the world, decided he was worthy of you. That man loves longer, harder and more faithfully than anyone I've ever seen. Whatever you think is going on between the two of you, it's not that he's stopped loving you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"You should," he said with a smile. "I'm your father, and so I'm obviously endowed with super-human wisdom."

Emma smiled, and gently smacked his arm.

"In all seriousness, Emma," Charming said, sobering. "Talk to him; talk to your husband. You need to clear the air. Communication is vital to a strong marriage."

"What if I'm right and he rejects me?" Emma asked in a small voice.

Charming reached over and wrapped her in a side-armed hug. "You're not, but even if you were, your mother and I will always be here for you. We'll get through this, whatever happens, together."

….

Killian sat in the comfortable chair by the desk in their bedroom. A book on nautical techniques in the 20th century lay open on his lap—it really was nearly magical how Belle managed to get her hands on any book one could want!—but he couldn't focus on it's fascinating pages. Emma sat propped up on the bed, slowly brushing her hair, staring into space with such sadness it broke his heart.

With everything in him he wished he could comfort her, take this pain away, but he knew better. He knew he was the last person she would wish to be with. Over the past week, the weight of his guilt had nearly crushed him. Was this a punishment for all the terrible things he'd done in his past? Had he been weighed and found unworthy of a happy ending?

"You blame me don't you?" Her voice was so small he almost missed her broken question.

"Pardon, lass?" he asked in surprise.

"You blame me. For the baby, I mean."

Killian shut his book with a click, threw it onto the desk and rushed to his wife. "Emma, love! How could you even think that?"

She turned her head away. "How could I not? It's my fault. If I hadn't rushed off after you like an idiot…not even bringing along my dad as back-up…this would have never happened."

Killian gently turned her face toward him with one finger under her chin. "No, Emma. It is not your fault. And no, I do not blame you. I blame myself."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Yourself? Why?"

"I failed you, love," he said in a choked voice. "You and that little one. I should have found a way to protect you."

"Kind of hard to do," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle, "when I refuse to stay away from danger."

Her chuckle ended on a sob, and he surged forward, gathering her into his arms. She clung to him so tightly he would likely have bruises. "Shh, love, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She cried for another minute or two, and then pulled back. He wiped her wet cheeks with his thumb. "You really don't blame me, Killian?" she asked. The hope and doubt he heard in her voice broke his heart.

"Nay, my love, my most precious love," he said. "You did not do this."

"Neither did you!" Emma said fiercely. "I saw the note; I know what happened. You did everything you could to protect me and the baby."

He clasped her hand, and brought it to his lips. "Very well, then. Shall we agree that neither of us is at fault for this tragedy?"

"Yes," she said on a sigh. She yawned loudly, and he chuckled.

"Tired?" His voice was amused.

"All this high emotion is exhausting," she said with a grin.

"You'd best get some sleep, lass," he said, gently pulling back the covers and letting her climb inside. "You've still some healing to do."

He prepared to get up, give her space to sleep, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Stay with me?" she asked in a small voice. "I need you Killian. I missed you holding me through the night."

His heart swelled, and the tears came to his eyes. He nodded silently, not trusting his voice. He made short work of preparing for bed, and then climbed in. Emma immediately turned toward him, took his face between her palms and kissed him long and deeply. After long moments, he groaned and pulled away.

"Perhaps we'd best stop our journey down that road, lass," he said breathlessly. "You've still a good bit of healing to do before we can express our love in more…intimate…terms."

Emma sighed. "You're right," she said ruefully. She turned and settled more firmly in his arms. "I love you Killian. Please promise me we won't do this again? Promise me from now on we'll face whatever we have to deal with together?"

Killian placed a gentle kiss onto the top of her head, reveling in the sweet smell of her hair, the soft press of her body against his. "I promise, Emma" he said. "And I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

Notes:

-***sigh of relief*** CS is back! I'm so glad the angst is done for now (probably for the rest of the story as far as the two main couples are concerned), and I got to write Killian and Emma's reunion! God bless Charming and his wisdom! Originally, I was going to have Emma have this conversation with Snow, but I decided there has been entirely too little Daddy Charming (really, entirely too little Charming, period) in this story.

-So are you feeling the parallels between Blackbeard/Edward and Hook/Killian as strongly as I am? Blackbeard has been way too sympathetic a character from the beginning for him to not feel guilty about what happened to Emma—and also troubled by Ursula's power trip. The question is…can he give up his revenge? Will he be willing to give up his hatred for the greater good? Will he take Hornigold's advice and return Roland and make an alliance with the Storybrooke gang?

-On a historical note, Hornigold really did become a privateer (basically a pirate-hunter) after he accepted the pardon from the king.

-Up next: In the waters under the Enchanted Forest, shortly before the first curse, Ursula now has her pirate crew and pirate captain, she has them go on an ultimately unsuccessful mission in Triton's kingdom. In the present…I'm not really sure how to tell you without giving too much away. (Sorry for the crypticness!)