Chapter Thirteen

Her feet were cold. That was the first thing she noticed as she started inching towards wakefulness. The rest of her was comfortable enough, but the room's chill seemed to grasp at her toes, working its way up her feet and wrapping around her ankles. She shifted, eyes finally fluttering, even if not quite opening, and she flexed her toes, curling and uncurling them to try to get the blood flowing through them. She reached out with one foot, expecting to find her husband's close by. He might grumble a bit before he actually woke up, but once he did he'd scoot closer and wrap an arm around her to pull her close. She'd managed to get a little sleep while he was in the hospital, but there was nothing like being home, in their own bed, with no nightmares to haunt them.

Belle blinked her clear blue eyes open when she realized that Rumple's side of the bed was empty. For one brief, terrifying moment she thought that perhaps she'd dreamt his rescue. Maybe he was still a prisoner in that terrible house that he'd described to her and Baelfire had never been brought back to them. She fought the idea as she sat up, the quilts falling from her shoulders and the chill of the rest of the room made her shiver.

The spot next to her was, in fact, vacant, and she was halfway out of bed by the time she realized that there was a light coming from under the bathroom floor and the sound of the sink running. The light shut off and the door creaked a little as it opened, revealing Rumplestiltskin's confused expression darkened by the shadows of the room. "Belle? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

It was silly, she knew it was, but she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck with enough force to almost knock him back. He caught them both and returned the embrace. He was warm and so very alive that she choked back a laugh and tightened her grip, pressing her ear to his chest just to hear the steady beating there.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked quietly and she shook her head.

"I just woke and you weren't there."

"That's been a bit of time, hasn't it?" he murmured and she could feel his soft smile as he kissed the top of her head.

While Rumple had dreamt of his then-dead son, Belle had found the empty bed unnerving for the first week or two that he'd been back. She had taken every chance to be close to his memory when they'd come back - running the shop, living in his house, and had even tried to drive his car once - and to have him there with her had been like walking in a dream. It had been one that it had taken at least a short time to assure herself she wouldn't wake up from. Apparently this latest terrible event had reawoken a few of those fears.

"It's alright, Belle," her husband shushed her softly. "I swear to you that I'm not going anywhere. Not while you'll have me."

"And I'll always have you," she promised in return.

"Well, eventually you might grow a bit tired of my antics," Rumple teased.

Belle looked up at him, tipped up on her toes, and kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you. That's forever. I promised, remember?"

"That you did."

Her smile grew and she could see his shining in his eyes, even in the darkness of their room. He leaned down and their lips met, one of his hands captured in hers and the other tangling itself in her hair. As the kiss deepened it traveled down, finger tracing her jaw and he picked her up to move her back towards the bed. She certainly wasn't going to protest.

"What woke you?" he managed between the kisses and she almost laughed at him for it.

"My feet were cold."

"I suppose that's my fault, isn't it? I should really do something to remedy that."

Belle tipped back onto the bed and giggled as he tumbled after her, the terrors put away just for a short time. His kiss could banish the questions and his voice did away with the fears that clung tight in the darkest of moments. Somehow, someway, they would patch their crazy little family together and perhaps they could even find that elusive happy ending she'd always heard about. Right then, she was content to leave that in the future. She wasn't ready for it to end.

Knowing his father was married again on an intellectual level was entirely different than the utter understanding that came with nearly walking into their room on them. It had been early, with the sun barely showing signs of inching towards the horizon, and he'd been hurt. And he was his papa. Childhood trauma should never come this late in life.

Henry was still sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms when Bae grabbed his papa's keys from the ring and left a hastily scribbled note promising to bring breakfast from Granny's if he'd text them when they go up, or at least whenever the managed to leave the room. There was no way in hell he was bringing that up. He had no need to relive that nor admit to it.

Granny's was busier than he expected at that hour, but he supposed that if any group of people could work through a brewing terror it would be the citizens if Storybrooke. Granted, they were just as likely to form a panicked mob as well from what he knew of them. These people that had been born and raised in the Enchanted Forest only to be uprooted and tossed into the Land Without Magic reacted in contrary to themselves sometimes, or perhaps at least in contrary of what Bae had learned having been uprooted and tossed into a strange land himself.

"Neal!" Ruby greeted as he walked through the door, the bell and the rattling of the blinds announcing his presence. She beamed and rounded the corner, offering him an unexpected hug. "It's so good to see you."

Bae grinned in return. "It's been a couple days. What sort of rumours are spreading?"

The werewolf - a fact he'd never learned from speaking to her before, but had actually gleaned from his father's memories - laughed. "It's Storybrooke. It's being called everything from a miracle to the darkests of magic that will destroy of all." She chuckled out the last bit as someone that has been on the receiving end of Storybrooke's mob mentality.

"As long as they keep the pitchforks put away, right?" Bae teased and she rolled her eyes, pulling a cup from beneath the counter and pouring some coffee into it.

"Don't joke about that. You'll give them ideas. What are you having?"

"So I tried these really good waffles last time."

"The blueberry ones?"

"Yeah, that's them. I'm going to grab stuff to go on the way out."

"Let me guess: Henry, Belle, and Mr Gold's favourites to go?"

"You are good."

Ruby grinned as she disappeared to the back and Bae was left at the counter. He glanced around, seeing a couple familiar faces. Archie and Marco were having breakfast in a far booth and a couple of the dwarves were seated down the bar. The door chiming open announced the entrance of the third they must have been waiting for, and Leroy shook the snow off his cap. His gaze fell almost immediately on Baelfire and his mouth dropped open a little. "Well look who's back from the dead!"

A small, crooked smile touched his lips. "We're apparently making it a family tradition."

Leroy didn't look like he got the reference and Bae resisted the urge to sigh. These people really didn't seem remember that his father had died and it had been what saved them from a more miserable existence than Regina could have ever cooked up for them. Bae wasn't an idiot. He knew his papa hadn't given his life for Leroy, Granny, or even Ruby. It had been for him and Belle and for Henry. That didn't mean the rest of the town didn't benefit and it wouldn't kill them to acknowledge that Rumplestiltskin was a better man these days than on many that they'd known him. It seemed like they'd accepted Regina after everything she'd done, so Baelfire was at a loss as to what was stopping them. Maybe he was biased after getting a bit too close to those feeling even while his father had been struggling to retain his sanity with both of them knocking around one head, but Bae had seen it through Rumplestiltskin's eyes as Storybrooke's heroes had come seeking his help and had just left him there after. Belle had tried, but she'd been the only one, and his papa couldn't hide behind his indifference then. Not from Bae.

Things seemed to be changing now, he hoped, and eventually David and Mary Margaret would help to bring the others around.

"Just in time for another bout of danger, eh Baelfire?" a voice asked from behind and pulled Bae out of his thoughts.

He swiveled on the barstool, gaze falling in a sauntering pirate captain that seemed to have finally changed his gaudy leathers for something a bit more modern. If he'd been wearing it at the hospital during their brief run-in, Bae hadn't bothered to notice. He still brandished his hook proudly enough, but the rest of him might have been toned down had he not been smiling that lazy smile of his that was meant to throw people off. Bae didn't buy it for a second. "Hey, Killian."

Leroy scooted off to his brothers, leaving Bae and the pirate that he'd never really known if he should consider a friend or enemy to talk. "May I?" Killian asked, motioning to the empty seat next to the younger man.

Baelfire offered a shrug and Hook took the seat. "Just a coffee this morning, love," he called over to Ruby who delivered it quickly.

"You still staying here?"

"Well, it turns out there's really only one landlord in town and he's not my biggest fan."

Bae saw the sideways glance from the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure if the pirate thought he wasn't paying attention or just didn't care, but the glance lingered until the younger man felt it become a studying gaze and he resisted the urge to squirm under it. He took a long sip from his mug, and when it just didn't stop he turned a glare on Hook. "What?"

"You were dead, mate. Excuse me if that makes me a little nervous."

"You're the one that took a seat next to me," Bae pointed out sharply, feeling his resolve to be civil begin to crumble.

Hook's lips twitched downward.

"Or is it something else that's making you nervous?" Bae growled. "By the way, how long did it take you to jump right back after Emma?"

"That's absurd."

"Really? Because from what Papa's said, it hasn't been nearly as long as it felt like it was while I was trapped down in that hellhole." He reeled his temper back in just enough to thank Ruby as she set the waffles down and mumbled that he could place the to-go order when he wanted.

"Bae," the pirate started to argue again, but the younger man cut him off.

"It's Neal. Only my family calls me that anymore." And Killian sure as hell wasn't family, Bae thought, but managed to cut that off quickly enough.

"You were dead. What was I supposed to do?"

"Maybe you should have had enough respect to back off?"

"You really love her, don't you?"

"I really do," he answered without missing a beat. He watched the elder man carefully, trying to work his way through the emotions that the conversation was pulling forward. This man had been why his mother had left as a child, and now seemed intent on trying to sway Emma away as well. Not that Emma was easily swayed, of course, but it didn't make the situation any less frustrating. "And you know, if she chooses you - or anyone else - in the end, that's her call, but I just... Damn it, Killian. You're the one who came to me saying you didn't want to let this come between us. Twice."

At least he had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I suppose I did. Well, if it helps at all, she has been decimating every romantic advance I've made."

"It helps a little," Bae chuckled and the sound pulled the same from the pirate.

"I love her too, you know," Killian murmured.

"I know. At least, for all you're doing, you better love her. If you break her heart, Killian, so help me, I'll-"

"Threats really aren't necessary, lad."

Baelfire snorted.

"Anyway, I think she's much more likely to break my heart than the other way around."

"Good."

"Well thanks so much," the pirate grumbled, sounding more offended than he likely was. After a moment he raised his coffee cup. "To the women that break our hearts," he offered.

Bae rolled his eyes, but obliged, the coffee mugs clinking and he resisted the urge to snark. Right now they needed everyone on the same side, no matter their past histories. They had a foe to face, and these clerics had attacked Emma as well as the rest of them. He might not trust Hook to handle her heart carefully, but he could trust him to care enough to be fiercely protective. In the end, Emma would make her choice, but that choice could never make him stop loving her.

Maleficent had had good reason to be wary of Rumplestiltskin's Dark Curse. Oh, she had a good enough reason to be wary of any curse that spiralled out of that clever little imp's mind, but that one had set a warning off deep inside like nothing before. One would think when the Mistress of All Evil said that a curse was too dark for the worlds to handle that perhaps said worlds might listen. Well, it was all blood under the bridge now.

This round was most certainly better, though, she had to admit. She'd been put down in her human form this time and even provided with an understanding of the Land Without Magic. It was, of course, not strictly a land without any magic. Not anymore. Rumplestiltskin had seen to that. She supposed she should be grateful for that. The little spice shop that round two of The Curse to End All Curses had provided her with would have been so very dull without a bit of kick added to it.

The fallen fairy smiled to herself as she remembered one of her would-be customers that had poked his head in to try to find something to calm his wife's nerves. Poor little Prince Philip had taken one look at her and had gone as white as a ghost. It had been marvelous. Really the only thing that could have made it better was if it had been that irritating little brat Aurora. That would have been a fantastic reaction.

Her front door's bell jingled and she perked from where she'd been replenishing some of her supplies. Few people in this Storybrooke actually knew who she was, but she'd been waiting for someone she knew to walk through that door. Perhaps Regina. She would just love to catch up with her friend that had thought little enough of that friendship to have left her in the state she did.

"Diaval, the door?" she called out as she bent down for the last jar she'd been after.

"Of course, Mistress," the man in question replied.

She stood slowly, leaning against a beam that supported the ceiling in the back storeroom and peered through the opening at the dark haired man that worked for her. She had never asked him what corner Regina had stuffed him into during her version of the curse, or if she'd even bothered to take a moment to think about it. Apparently the Charmings casting the curse allowed for a bit better placing of people as they were displaced, and her constant companion had been delivered in the same form that he took at times in the Forbidden Fortress. True, she did adore him in his unicorn form as well, and he was damn useful as a bird, but she hardly found herself complaining now. Perhaps it was time for her to rethink her dislike of Rumple's little curse.

"Mistress?" Diaval called softly and Maleficent realized he was standing right in front of her now. "He won't speak to anyone but the shop owner."

"Well I suppose I'll have to make myself available then, won't I?" she almost purred. Most days it was difficult to get a rise out of him, though when she managed, it was well worth it. "Hello, dear. Here for something special?" she asked the man that stood with his back to her, looking through her assortment of teas.

He turned and even the Mistress of All Evil had to blink a bit. Magic could be felt in many different ways, but humans always thought they were so much better at hiding it than they truly were. This little child was certain that she didn't know who he was, but those eyes of his gave it all away. They swirled with carefully contained power, though it was nothing next to the master he was kept by. Interesting. Things had been a bit different in Storybrooke the last couple of weeks. Perhaps it was time to finally grow at least a tad bit curious.

"I have a list of things I need. I understand that this shop is the place to obtain them." He held the list out to her, but before she could pull it from his fingers he snagged it back. "With discretion, of course."

"Oh of course," she answered automatically and plucked the paper from him. Her dark violet eyes skimmed the words and she knew them well. She also knew what mixing them would create, though he'd tried to disguise his intent by putting the list out of order. There was an extra ingredient - something to spice it up - listed and she tilted her head as she continued skimming the page.

"Do you have everything?" he asked worriedly, like he were pressed for time.

"I believe so. Just a moment please."

She felt his eyes on her as she moved to the back again, Diaval waiting with a less than pleased expression on his face. "Mistress, do you know who that is?"

"Not specifically, but I recognize his training well enough. He's one of Magnus'."

The shapeshifter's dark eyes flickered to the store and then came back to her. "Mistress, he knows."

"He knows nothing," Maleficent answered flippantly as she started for the ingredients requested. "He's a pawn. Magnus only keeps pawns afterall. I'd say he learned that lesson some… oh five centuries ago? I forget."

"Mistress," Diaval hissed and she waved him off, tipping up on her toes to reach up to a top shelf and pull a jar of foul smelling liquid down. It was a wonder anyone anyone ever ingested this poison. She always prefered the more traditional methods herself.

Her dear bird scurried his way over to her, his movements jerky and nervous. "You're not giving it to him, are you?"

"Shouldn't I? Where's your sense of fun, Diaval? Please tell me this place hasn't tainted you too badly. Some little cleric casting this? One of Magnus'? I do hope he pricks his own finger with it. That would be marvelous."

"Mistress!"

"Oh pipe down," Maleficent answered as she rolled her eyes. "It's just business. It's not like we're not getting something from it." She let a friendly smile spread across her face as she waltzed back in to the main room of the shop, setting the jars down and pulling several vials out for the liquids and bags for the crushed powders. "Now, I assume you do know quite what you're getting yourself into?" she asked as she began to fill them. All magic came with a price and she'd be damned if someone tried to say she'd tricked this little nobody into casting something he didn't understand.

The little cleric offered a glare that was hardly intimidating with his blackened eye that he wore oh-so proudly as if it weren't even there. Whoever he'd gone a round with had certainly done a number on him, and from the way he moved, the eye wasn't all he'd come away with. She really did need to get out more and listen to a few town rumours.

"What I do with it is none of your business," he snapped and Maleficent raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Of course not. Just have to give all the warnings. Wouldn't want to get sued." Her smile turned mischievous and he just kept right on glaring. It was enough to make her giggle as she finished up and he reached to swipe the ingredients from her. She popped his hand as if she were scolding a small child. "Nothing comes for free of course. That will be three-fifty."

He blinked at her. "I expected a bit more," he said after a moment and began to pull a couple of dollar bills from his wallet.

She snorted a laugh. "No dear. Three hundred and fifty." She watched as he balked at the number and her smile only grew. "We take cash or credit. No checks, please. You just don't know who to trust these days."

The cleric paid and left with his bought supplies, the bell jingling after him. Diaval stepped forward and looked towards his mistress. "You know who they are, Mistress. That's a dangerous game to play in this world."

"Oh, not so dangerous. His money wasn't all I took," she answered and waved the credit receipt in front of his face. "I have a name and you know who pays highly for that sort of information."

"Do you know who the potion is for?"

"That's no longer my concern, though I do think that I should slip Rumple a note. If it's his precious little wife and I didn't say anything… well, there'll be hell to pay, won't there? I have no interest in that kind of trouble."

"You think they'd put her under a Sleeping Curse?"

Maleficent shrugged. "If there's one thing I know about those clerics that follow Magnus, it's that they are capable of anything."

Weird days in Storybrooke were nothing new. Every day since she'd followed that little boy that had become her world to this town, she'd found herself wondering if maybe she'd cracked and no one had bothered to tell her.

Emma Swan sat on a bench alone, hazel eyes fixed on the water that she wasn't really looking at. She'd managed to come to terms with the fact that she could be a mother, which had eventually led to finding her own parents. It just kept spiralling from there, but she supposed that if she could accept that her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming and that they'd tucked her into a magical wardrobe to save both her and the rest of their kingdom from a terrible curse - created by her son's grandfather and cast by his adopted mother, by the way - she could eventually wrap her mind around most anything.

Except Neal. He was the oddity in everything. He was the one that had stolen her heart and then vanished. She'd hated him only because she couldn't forget him, but somehow that bitterness had softened when she watched how great he was with Henry. It made her wonder what life would have been like if he'd stayed, if he'd told August no. Life could have been great, and she was certain - if there was really such a thing as fate and destiny - that it would have brought them here eventually.

He hadn't stayed, though. He'd run, just like he'd learn to run his whole life. Then he'd come back and left and come back and left. Emma thought she did a pretty good job of protecting her heart, but she just couldn't with him. Every time he managed to work his way back in with that lopsided grin on his and that laugh. She knew he loved her, and if she were honest she might admit that she knew that after the first time he'd never wanted to leave her again. He kept coming back, but then they kept getting ripped apart again too. Maybe there just was no happy ending for people like her. Maybe he would actually be safer if she managed to say no this time. It might break his heart, but that could mend. Perhaps not just right or how it was before, but it could mend, and Emma was starting to think that it was the only way to keep him alive.

Rustling through the trees caught her attention and she turned, finding no one there. Her eyes scanned the brush carefully, and though a chill worked it's way through her, she finally decided it was a mixture of the cold air and a breaking heart. She snorted, standing from the little bench and looking around. This was becoming absurd. She'd made her decision and now she had to live with it.

Emma's hand flexed beneath her glove, a strange sensation working it's way into just one finger. She rubbed at it for a moment before peeling the glove off, finding it red and irritated. It had been fine just a few moments before, so she slipped her fingers back into the glove and started walking.

Killian Jones was not the sacrificing sort, at least he didn't make a habit of it anymore. He'd spent enough time sacrificing his best years to the service of a king that had gotten his brother killed and then the years after that chasing down the man that had killed the only woman that he thought he'd ever love. Really, he'd just hit his limit of sacrificial giving, and he thought he'd been perfectly content with that. He was a pirate, after all, and owed nothing to anyone.

Then there had been Emma Swan. She'd been entertaining at first, just a lass to catch his fancy, but he'd found out she was much more. She was strong and brave and clever, just the type of woman that could actually keep up with him, and the more time he spent with her the further he fell until he was certain that he would drown in it should he ever try to break away.

The fact that she had been in love with Baelfire was unfortunate. He hadn't meant for that to happen, of course, but he could argue all day long that it had never been his goal to take the boy's supposed True Love from him and Bae would never hear a word of it. They both loved her, but that didn't guarantee either of them anything. She wasn't a damsel to be rescued and she wasn't going to be swept off her feet. Bae had been right when he had said she might not choose either one of them, but Hook hoped that he was wrong. He hoped with everything he had, because he hadn't thought he could fall this deeply in love ever again. He'd never thought he could find it in himself to give whatever was needed for another person again, regardless of what it cost him.

Hook sighed, trudging up towards the sheriff's office. It was late afternoon, but he'd seen her little yellow vehicle parked outside the town hall. He'd had a good few hours to think on it and he thought it was time that she knew what he was willing to give for her. At least then she would know, even if it didn't change anything.

The lights were on and he could hear rummaging as he moved closer down the hall. Curiosity crept up on him and he stepped through the open door to the main office. "Swan?" he called and she peeked up over her desk from where she was squatted down to look at something. Killian quirked an eyebrow. "Lost something?"

"Yeah. Just looking for it. What's up?"

She sounded a bit distracted, but he didn't dare give himself a chance to back out now. He was Killian Jones, pirate captain, and feared across worlds. He cleared his throat. "If you're busy, I can come back," he found himself saying instead.

"It's fine. I can keep looking," she offered and ducked back down. "What did you need?"

"I just… Well, I had breakfast with Bae- with Neal this morning, and he and I were talking. You know how I feel about you, love, so I thought it was best just to put things out in the open before they got any further away from us. You've been asking about the Jolly Roger." He waited for some sort of reaction. Emma was easily enough distracted, but she always seemed to come around when the conversation turned serious. That or she ran, but she didn't seem to be doing either this time.

Finally, after silence filled the air between them, she stood and moved to the cabinets against the wall. "Yeah?"

"I traded it for a bean so that I could warn you about the curse. That's how I came through to your world." He waited for the words to sink in, but Emma kept right on searching. "I gave up the Jolly Roger for you," he stressed.

"Uh huh," came the bare response and he felt a twinge if irritation. Okay, so giving up his ship might not be completely on par with dying so that they could find the Wicked Witch, but it should have received something of a response. She looked up and past him towards the desks in the empty section of the office. "Maybe there?"

He caught her arm as she passed. "What are you looking for, Swan?"

She looked up at him like he was the one losing his mind. "Let go. I have to find it."

"Find what?" he demanded even as she pulled away.

He watched her move to one of the desks and her eyes lit up. "There you are," she murmured and went for something.

Killian strained as he saw her pick up a small needle that had been left of the desk. "What-?" He choked on the word as she lifted the needle, almost as if in a trance, and pricked her bare finger with it.

Emma turned, the trance wearing off for the briefest of moments. He thought he heard his name try to work it's way out, but it never passed her lips as her eyes rolled and her knees gave.

Panic bubbled up inside of him as he dropped to the floor next to her, good hand immediately going to find a pulse. It was weak, but there. He fumbled for the cell phone she'd given him, struggling to remember what the number for emergencies was. There were three numbers, he thought, or maybe four. He couldn't remember, so he did the next best thing and tapped David's name to call him.

It rang as he checked her again, begging for her to open her eyes. The ringing stopped then, and her mother's voice sounded. "Hello? David has Neal right now. This is Mary Margaret."

"Something's happened to Emma. It was like some sort of spell and she went for a needle lying on a desk and-"

"Hook, slow down," the princess snapped. "What happened to my daughter?"

"She pricked her finger on it and just fell. I've never seen anything like it."

There was a moment of silence on the other end and a deep breath. "I have. It's a Sleeping Curse. Where are you? We're on our way."

"The station," he managed and Snow White hung up on the other end. He turned his gaze back down to Emma. She was growing paler by the second, her breathing fainter and fainter as she slipped. It was a curse, Mary Margaret had said, and if there was thing that Killian knew it was that any curse could be broken. Pulling in a deep, steadying breath, he bent over her still form and pressed his lips to hers. The last time they'd kissed - if one could even call it kissing, as it'd really been her attempt to push air through to his lungs and bring him back from the brink of drowning - it had sapped her powers and left her without her magic, thanks to the hex the Wicked Witch had put on him. Now, if she felt the same as he did, he could bring her back from the edge. He could save her.

He sat up slowly, waiting for a sharp intake of breath that would announce her waking. It never came as she slipped further and further into a sleep like death.

TBC

Notes: Well, please don't kill me know. That's quite a cliffhanger, but I suppose that's nothing new with me, is it? :P

Happy early Thanksgiving. Depending on how writing goes I will likely either update Wednesday or Friday. Probably Friday. For those traveling this week, stay safe!

Next time - The rush to save Emma is on while Regina and Rumple show up at Maleficent's shop for answers and receive more than they bargained for.