Chapter 12:

Marshalling of Forces

Gwen's apartment

1:30am

"Dante's? She's been at Dante's the whole time? And as a favor for some anti-spy/invisibility spell?"

She didn't really doubt him or find it all that unbelievable. It was just that she was having a hard time processing Killian's middle of the night revelation. She had been sound asleep, when he had shaken her awake. The pirate hadn't even bothered coming in the front door but had come through the fire escape window.

She appreciated his circumspection, but he had scared the be-jesus out of her. And then she had thought he had come to talk to her about what was all over town. But he was all business, and if that was how he wanted to roll, she would go with the flow. No apologies for the mixed metaphors, it was in the middle of the effing night.

"That's what I heard." He confirmed, not noticing that her mind had drifted. "Who is this Dante?"

Rubbing her face in the hopes of getting her synapses sparking, she replied tiredly, "Here, he is the psychiatrist who has been running a private sanitarium of sorts, a clinic for those with mental illness. He's been allegedly helping those who have been suffering with severe addictions, like Jacky Boyd."

Ashley's youngest half-sister had been one of those who had succumbed to depression about being trapped in Storybrooke and who had turned to the poppy to cope. She had probably been introduced to it at one of Dee Dee's parties and been hooked. Ashley had eventually convinced her step-mother that something was wrong and that Jacky needed help, but only after Belle had told Mrs. Boyd that her 'missing' jewelry had come to the pawn shop. Jacky had gone to Dante's rehab center and after two months of treatment had been declared 'better' and well enough to come home but only by the grace of the pharmaceutical industry, it seemed.

As she refilled her cup of tea, she added quietly, "Back in the Forest, I imagine he was Monsieur D'Arque, the owner and manager of the Asylum."

Both of them shuddered at the name. Imagine every horror story ever told about Bedlam, mix it with Grimm-style fairy tales, and that is the Asylum; even Killian who had only been back in the Forest for such a short period of time between Neverland and the Curse had heard of its nasty reputation.

Into their horrified silence, Killian asked, "Do you think he's up to his old ways? And that's why he needs the sea witch's protection?"

She gave this careful consideration before replying. Finally she shook her sleep tussled head and answered, "No, modern mental health has progressed far enough that I don't think he would need to resort to tortuous experimentation…" More confidently, she theorized, "No, I think, he's experimenting with drug cocktails, seeing what will 'cure' people's loved one of addictions to street drugs but make them dependent on his psychopharmaceuticals. That way he and his 'philanthropic' donors, who I imagine are the street drug suppliers, continue to make a tidy profit off his patients once they are 'cured.'"

Killian let out a low whistle, muttering in disturbed awe, "A finger in every piece of the pie."

Ignoring his comment, she continued to muse aloud, "If she – Ariel is being kept below sea level, that means there is or are sublevels like beneath the library. And if that's the case, there will be some record of it or a discrepancy in the records that I might be able to find…and I know a few people who can get access on the inside to get the lay of the land…"

"Who? Wolf-girl?"

This suggestion brought her out of her reverie. Shooting him a nasty look, she declared heatedly, "No! She may be doing better, but in no way would I send her into the Dante's hell-hole while she's still fragile."

Killian quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask 'Well then who?' To which, she suggested, "There's a maid who works there already, Babette. She's smart and observant. And Ginger volunteers as a therapeutic yoga instructor there, and she'd jump at the chance to do reconnaissance work for the Cause."

"In the meantime, do we tell Eric or anybody else what we know?"

"We're going to have to." She admitted with a reluctant sigh. "We need the magic users' help in figuring out what the Rite of Passage is, and I don't see any way of asking without giving an explanation why. Hopefully, they won't go in guns blazing before we do."

Killian nodded in acceptance of this, and then when it became obvious that neither one of them had anything to add, he thanked her for the tea, bid her good night, and then let himself out (via her front door, thank God.)

She stumbled back to bed and tried to block out the growing list of things she had to do come morning – getting bars for her windows being one of them.

~0~

They – Emma, her parents, Eric, or any of the other royals – did not go in 'guns blazing'. Eric took some convincing, but everyone else had kept a cooler head and had seen the wisdom in waiting to find out what Ursula and Maleficent were up to.

Killian had tagged along after Emma when she had gone to Regina to find out what she knew about the mysterious ritual. And he had kept quietly to himself when Baelfire showed up with his father for the sorcery conference.

He hadn't even risen to the bait when the Crocodile had questioned his motives for being there. He had merely said, "I'm here to offer my assistance in rescuing the fair maiden. I have contacts on the inside that may prove useful." Ginger was a student of his, so that was technically true. No need for them to know about Tawny being his middle man.

It was a testament to how far along his relationship with Emma and her parents had come that they hadn't questioned his offer of assistance as well.

The 'Rite of Passage' according to Gold and Regina was the ritual that involved the stripping of an innocent mermaid's voice and harnessing its power to control the gates between worlds that exist in the seas. The Crocodile claimed that he had never attempted it in his quest to find Bae because his Seer sight had shown him that it failed every time he considered it. Regina, lip curling, had snarked that it was because there was 'no such thing as an innocent mermaid', at least not until this Ariel had hatched out of her seashell.

The Crocodile had unfortunately not snapped at her scathing dismissal of his foresight powers. A pity, as Killian would have dearly loved to see the once-Evil Queen squash the now powerless imp. But alas, it was not to be, for the man simply went on to explain the details and requirements of the ritual – new moon night after winter solstice, a fiery altar, the wings of a fairy, the spirit of a Halfling, the voice of a long imprisoned innocent mermaid, and then her blood and scales as well as a piece of the caster.

Everyone groaned at this. Madame Superior had only just reported that week that one of her sisters had been accosted by Maleficent and had her wings torn from her before being dumped on the church's front steps, and it was well-known that Ruby (half-human, half-wolf) had been spiritless ever since her enslavement. Their only hope for stopping the witches was to rescue Ariel from Dante's before the moon fully waned in five days.

"Ah, but you are not seeing the silver lining in all of this."

Everyone shot Regina dubious looks at this surprisingly optimistic remark. Her smirk had that evilly eager and exultant quality to it, like she was just short of rubbing her hands together and cackling with wicked delight. With dramatic condescension, she explained, "It takes a full lunar cycle, culminating at the new moon, and a great deal of power to do this invocation. They will be at their weakest as the moon wanes."

Emma immediately turned to him, asking, "Can your contacts get you the information we need to bust her out of there before then?"

"Why bother trying to break into there? They'll bring her to them. We can grab her then and avoid tipping them off that we are on to them," Regina argued.

Over Eric's protests, Emma countered reasonably, "Because if we fail, Ariel pays the price. This way, if we don't completely stop them, she's safe and they will be unable to complete the spell, and we can fight them another day."

"To avoid the tipping off part, we can split up and do simultaneous attacks," David suggested.

Ever the one to rain on everyone else's parade, Regina pointed out, "And where will be the second attack? Do we even know where those two are at?"

The reformed Crocodile continued to be irksomely helpful, declaring, "They'll be near the altar, which – " he hastened to add, leaning on his cane, before her majesty could interrupt, "is where all the dark magic will be emanating from. The fairies will be able to pinpoint that, accurately enough, as they can sense it like a…disturbance in the Force."

Regina and he seemed to be the only ones not amused by that last reference – Regina, because she hated to be beholden to the fairies except for Tinkerbell, and he, because he simply didn't get it. He would have to have Tawny explain it to him when he related all of this to her.

Finally, he answered Emma's earlier question, "Yes, lass, I think they can find what we need for this little sortie. I'll get back to you tomorrow."

After that, it wasn't long before they all went their separate ways.

It was when Emma waved farewell to him that he saw it – a glint of sunlight reflecting off a bauble of shiny on her left ring finger.

She was gone before he could ask her or Baelfire any of the dozen questions that immediately flooded his mind, and all that he had left were the ones for himself.

How had he not seen it earlier? How long had she been wearing it? Was it too early to hit his stock of rum? Did he have enough rum? Did Tawny know? Why had no one said anything to him, especially her?

No idea. No idea. It's never too early. Probably not. Of course, she did. She was bloody Gwen the all-knowing maid after all. And no idea, but he would ask the ungrateful wench as soon as he knew which one he was the most furious at – the blushing bride-to-be or the shameless secret-keeper.

~0~

The Trailer

Two days later…

She and Fitz were pouring over security diagrams, blue prints, and handwritten layouts and guard rotations as provided by Babette and Ginger, when Killian deigned to join them.

He had been rather moody lately and smelling stronger than usual of rum. Considering the circumstances, this was understandable. It was just – She just – missed him. He was so distant and surly. She wanted to talk to him, to wheedle him out of his foul mood like he had done for her so many times before, but she wasn't sure how to. She had made several attempts, but all had been vehemently rebuffed. Any silent physical attempts at comfort – a squeezing of the hand, pat to the shoulder – had all been coolly dodged.

She could take a hint. Message received. He wished to lick his wounds in solitude. She just missed the emotional connection that they had seemed to be developing these past few months.

Before she could get too maudlin, Killian interrupted her private pity-party with: "Swan says that they have a plan in place, and are just waiting on us. So any luck?"

This was addressed to Fitz with his arms crossed and his flinty gaze entirely focused on the former thief. This all business stuff sucked.

Fitz, who was absorbed in his task, absentmindedly replied, "Oh yes, I can get past this system, no problem, once I'm in."

"And Ginger can get us in, relatively easily," she assured, adding sardonically, "It's the getting out that will be an issue. After all, it's a locked-down psych facility."

When he didn't seem to appreciate her wit, she continued, "But, fortunately, there is a storm drain that runs beneath the building and out into the river. And according to Babette, all the drain covers are conveniently man-sized. So the general gist of our plan is to get in, find Ariel, grab her, exit via storm drain, and sail away under the cover of darkness in one of your dingies that we have waiting at the mouth of the drain."

Killian stood there gazing at a spot over her shoulder as he considered her plan, and while he did so, she tried not to fidget and cursed her need for his approval, her need to be called 'his clever lass.'

Finally, he stated, "Not a bad idea. The only problem I see is that your exit strategy relies on my dingy being unseen, which is impossible even on a moonless night. The dock lights all around my ship will prevent sneaking away for any sort of clandestine activities."

"So we have you sail the Roger away from the dock earlier that day to a point where no one can witness what we're up to," was Fitz's helpful suggestion.

"But for what reason would Killian do that?" She mused aloud. "That won't arouse suspicion?"

They all seemed momentarily stumped by this as the good captain hadn't sailed his ship beyond the bay since the Great Pooch Escape and no one had really believed any of the excuses he had given at the time. But then, the man in question suggested bitterly, "Perhaps, it is because I need a reprieve from a certain couple's upcoming nuptial bliss."

The full force of his gaze was upon her, and she could see all of his pain and anger swirling in the depths of his eyes. She wanted to comfort her friend, but at the moment, it looked as if he would reject any such overtures, so she merely said, "Well, that would work."

"So you knew?" He accused her. "How long have you known exactly?"

His hostility towards her was so out of the blue, or maybe it had been there all along and she had misinterpreted it, that she could only sit there gaping like a fish before finally finding her voice. "I knew the day after," she replied softly.

"And you said nothing to me? Just let me walk around like an ignorant fool while the whole town pitied me?" His arms had uncrossed at this point so that he could wave his hook theatrically about. Jabbing it towards her, he declared, "I had to find out, not from my partner, but from seeing her blighted ring."

"I thought you knew! I thought Henry had told you," she defended, trying not to let her hurt from his believing that she would intentionally do something like that to him, her partner, turn into anger. But it was very very hard to do. "You weren't talking about it, so I was going to let sleeping bears lie. I was following your lead, you – you blockheaded buffoon!"

"Emma probably told Henry not to mention it to you so that she could tell you in person, but when this month's crisis of impending doom happened, it slipped her mind," was Fitz's unsolicited contribution.

They glared at him in unison, causing him to hold up his hands in a "don't shoot" gesture before busying himself with organizing their papers.

Fitz's interjection had been uninvited but helpful, because Killian's tense posture relaxed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his face before he looked at her with apologetic chagrin, "I'm sorry, Tawny-lass. I've been a right arse these past few days, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. Normally, I would have called you on it by now, but I believe it is bad form to kick a man while he is down," she primly replied.

A slow grin spread across his scruffier than normal face, as he drawled, "And that is why you'll never make a good pirate – too much Camelot-chivalry running through your veins, love."

Again, she was rendered speechless. Part of her was insulted that he didn't think she had it in her to be a pirate. Part of her was peeved that he would say anything about Camelot or accuse her of being anything like those noble dickheads. Part of her was pleased that the morals she had grown up with and had once upon a time believed in were still her guiding compass and that he had noticed.

At Fitz's hesitant clearing of his throat, she recovered the use of her tongue to retort, "Challenge accepted," and then to the room at large, "I think we have a plan."

Fitz nodded in agreement, and Killian murmured, "Aye, we do."

~0~

The Pier

The morning of New Moon Eve…

"You're going to be late." Killian said in that way people do when they are indirectly trying to tell someone goodbye.

The night before we had scouted out the storm drain. They had been able to reach both the river and the rehab center's lower rooms. The mission was a go for tonight, so Killian was doing his grand pirate diva exit. Or he was supposed to. He was supposed to be telling his star pupil goodbye, and she, Tawny, was to look as if she was begging him to stay. But he seemed oddly reluctant to play out his part and she was worried that if she didn't stand there to see him sail away he would never leave.

"Well then, you had better get a move on then," she asserted pointedly.

He stared at her. She stared back. And amazingly enough, he broke first, sighing heavily as he glanced towards the lightening horizon.

"Why don't you want to go?" When he didn't answer her concerned query, she prodded him with dry humor, asking, "Is it a manly pirate thing?"

That got a reaction out of him. He turned to gaze at her quizzically, his eyebrow arched in that annoying manner of his and his mouth twitching with amusement, "'Manly pirate thing'?"

"Yes, manly pirate thing," she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Ya know, not wanting to sail away with everyone thinking you are an emotionally wounded dog gone to lick his wounds."

He snorted, "Since when have I cared what these people think of me, lass?" He had a point. "No, Tawny-love, it's not the leaving that I am reluctant to do."

"Then what?"

He squared off with her again and crossed his arms, declaring with a low growl, "I don't like my partner raiding the enemy's territory without me to watch her back."

"Oh."

Yep. 'Oh'. That was all that she could manage to articulate. At first, the girlish Camelot part of her was warmed by this revelation, causing her stomach to feel all funny and stuff. But then her independent streak rose up bringing with it a wave of more than mild irritation.

"How sentimental of you," that part of her drolly noted. Poking him in the chest, she hissed back, "But in case you haven't noticed, sensei, I can take care of myself and this isn't the first time I've tricked my way into enemy territory. Moreover, this time, I won't be there for weeks and the enemy isn't an evil sorceress queen, not to mention that all the wicked witches will be kept occupied elsewhere."

While he absorbed the truth of her statement, the girlish part of her reveled in the fact that while Emma Swan was facing off with said evil witches, Killian was worried about her.

"All very valid points, lass." He grudgingly acknowledged.

"But…?"

"But nothing. Despite my 'sentimentality'," his lips curled in disgust at the word, "I'm going to stick to the plan." Gesturing with his hook at her, he charged, "You had just better remember and employ every dirty pirate trick I taught you, kitten."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she replied without a hint of mockery, despite the fact that he had used the irksome nickname.

His gaze flicked back to his ship, to its – her – sails, and then out over the water before he said, "The tide is going out, and so must I."

She refrained from rolling her eyes and quipping 'No shit' or even more childishly an I-told-you-so 'Duh'. Instead, she simply nodded.

With an ostentatious bow, like the one he had given the three trappers when they had first met, he said, "Farewell, lass," and then he was ascending the gangplank to the Roger.

When he gave the signal, she untied the line and watched as the ship slipped smoothly from the pier, glided out into the bay, and then out of sight as he headed out to the World Beyond.

He had left Storybrooke before. A few times by 'borrowed' car to sell his gold or by foot to pick up Larue's packages, but he had always had the Jolly Roger to bring him back, or a pack of puppies and their wolf-mother to rid himself of. She shouldn't have this twisting knot in her stomach. She shouldn't be flashing back to then.

But she did. How bloody sentimental.

Sighing, she squared her shoulders. She had work to do. She had to keep up the charade that it was business as usual, and after all this was done, she would still have bills to pay. She also needed to remind Jefferson to be on the lookout tonight. If something went wrong, she needed someone to let the cavalry know.

If there was any cavalry left. Ursula and Maleficent, or any other wicked witch for that matter, weren't known for their mercy.

~ E * N * C * H * A * N * T * E * D ~ F * O * R * E * S * T ~

~Regina's Castle~

From her vantage point, a vantage point spitefully provided by Her, she could see his ship was sailing away, vanishing over the horizon. It shouldn't bother her. She had only known Jones for three weeks. She shouldn't feel abandoned. They had each fulfilled their end of the bargain. Their business was done. It shouldn't …

But it did.

And like the predator, she was, the Queen pounced upon her weakness.

"Do you see that? He's gone. Without a backward glance. Without asking after you. Asking for you," the exiled sorceress hissed into her ears as she circled her, a sneer curling her lips. "He used you, and then he left you. To face me – alone."

She was alone. But since when was she a stranger to loneliness?

A/N: Next chapter - Operation: Poach and Release, and as always, not mine

Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Concerns?