The days are slipping away too quickly.
Each day, each passing hour brings them one step closer to land, to Regina's castle, to a quest with an uncertain outcome. One day closer to having to face the Evil Queen again, one day closer to what might be their last hope of finding the magic beans—and sending Mary back to a home that no longer feels like hers. She's changed so much in these—weeks? Months? She's not even sure how much time has passed any longer—in the Enchanted Forest that part of her, the part of her heart that is now forever entwined with Killian's, wants to stay. But the part of her that she knows she should listen to remains stubbornly rational, reminding her that she cannot stay, no matter how much she wants to. She doesn't belong here—with Killian, perhaps, but she does not belong in this realm. And in order to protect Killian from the Dark One's wrath, Mary must return to her own realm, and take Rumpelstiltskin with her. That is the bargain she made, and that is the promise she must keep—both to Rumpelstiltskin and to herself.
Mary isn't sure what she wants anymore, other than to keep Killian safe—and to keep time from slipping from her fingertips like so many grains of sand.
As the days pass, both of them begin silently preparing for what is to come. Afternoons are spent with him teaching her to handle a sword—her younger self, who had been so jealous watching Patrick at work at his fencing lessons, would be overjoyed—so that she can defend herself against the Queen's guards when the time comes if need be. It doesn't surprise either of them that she is a fast learner, and Killian is a good teacher—patient and understanding, but not about to go easy on her either. As they practice, their swords clashing on the deck and the sun bouncing off the waves below, it's almost easy to forget what is waiting for them on the shore.
"Move your feet!" he calls out to her, flashing a cheeky grin. "Look alive, lass!"
She lunges forward, but he dances out of her way and taps her with the flat of his blade before she even has time to react. "Got you," he says, his tone triumphant despite the grave look in his eyes. "Best two out of three?"
"You have the distinct advantage of 300 years of training over me. It's hardly a fair fight," Mary mumbles.
"You're smaller and lighter on your feet than I am—and smaller than the Queen's men will be. Use that to your advantage."
"How?" she asks, brushing her hair, damp with sweat and sea foam, out of her eyes with a wry sort of smile.
He grins down at her, tightening his grip on his blade as he prepares for attack again. "Use your imagination."
She narrows brown eyes at him, tightening her grip on the sword that had seemed so clumsy and cumbersome to her at first but now, through practice and a great deal of stubbornness on her part, is becoming more and more comfortable to use by the day. She remembers clearly the day he first suggested these swordplay lessons, wanting her to be able to defend herself when the time came. "I don't want one of us to be at a disadvantage," he'd said to her, his hand running down her back. "I want us to be equals in this. This is your fight as well as mine, and I want us both to be able to see that though. And—" he'd swallowed there, and Mary's breath had caught. "In case I can't protect you, I want to make sure that you can look after yourself."
"And if I turn out to be the one saving you?"
He'd grinned, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. "I wouldn't say no to that, Mary."
"Ready?" he says to her now, startling her from her thoughts.
"Ready," Mary replies confidently, smiling at him in the blinding sun. "Do your worst, pirate."
He raises an eyebrow in response.
Neither of them knows what awaits them once the Jolly Roger makes port. But one thing that they are sure of is that whatever comes, they will face it together.