Chapter Twelve: Midnight Storm

"How much further?"

Hook glanced over his shoulder at the blonde and said pointedly, and with a hint of impatience creeping into his tone, "No matter how many times you ask that question, the answer will always be the same. Until we get past the islands."

"Yes, but…"

"And it is going to take a lot longer if you keep distracting me," he added, smirking inwardly at the look of aggravation in Emma's hard stare.

Emma frowned and turned back to her tasks aboard the ship. He watched her for a brief moment, making sure that she was actually paying attention to all that she had to do, then turned his own gaze towards the ocean and the islands that could very well shipwreck them if he wasn't careful.

He gritted his teeth. He could perfectly understand why Emma was impatient, but her continued questioning was more than a little irritating. He was a pirate and she was just a girl from some ridiculous world where apparently people didn't travel by ship anymore. She really should just accept the fact that he was in charge here.

Not that she ever would.

A smile curved his lips. She wouldn't be the first person who had refused to acknowledge his right to lead… and that hadn't ended particularly well for Peter Pan, had it?

The ship lurched uneasily, and he frowned at the way it rocked on the waves. He'd done the best he could training his two passengers, but they weren't sailors and neither of them had been particularly adept at learning.

Of course, being a sailor was no guarantee of prowess. Half the sailors he had encountered in his many years as a pirate had been worthless land-lovers, and he'd quite quickly and easily cut them down to size.

Sometimes literally.

But even with only semi-competent help he knew he would be able to navigate the islands and the even more dangerous portal. And then, once they were safely in this town of Storybrooke, he would finally be able to rid himself of the constant suspicion and supervision of these two meddling women.

And he could find himself a crocodile.

He chanced another quick look over his shoulder and saw Mary Margaret watching him. Neither would be willing to let down their guard around him, particularly not in this new world they called their home. They had too much they were trying to protect, and they viewed him as a threat.

As well they should. He had only one goal, and if they got in his way... Nothing was going to stop him from getting his revenge. This time Rumpelstiltskin would be the one to lost everything he held dear, and then he could see what a lifetime of bitter loneliness felt like.

But first, Hook mused, he would need to find a way to slip away from Mary Margaret and Emma's watchful gazes.

Well… he was confident he could do that.

He'd done it before, after all. And Peter Pan had been a far greater threat. The boy chief had at least understood just how dangerous the world was, and how foolish it was to trust anyone.

There was no doubt in his mind that Peter Pan did not trust him.

Jones could not fault him for that – anyone with half a brain would know it was idiotic to trust a pirate. And the boy chief was far cleverer than most of the fools Jones had encountered back in his own world.

Jones contemplated this as he watched Peter through half-closed eyes. The others had long since fallen asleep, but Peter was still awake, pushing at the fire with a long stick.

The boy chief rarely slept. For all its idyllic appearance, Neverland was not the safest of places. The mermaids were notoriously mischievous, and the natives who lived in the jungle had no love for the boy chief and his little band of followers. Even the fairies seemed to take pleasure in tricking innocent people.

The tricks were all rather petty and thoughtless. Sometimes they were stupidly dangerous, and Jones had nearly drown the first time he'd met a mermaid, but the intent behind the actions was never malicious. It was merely…

Childish. As though no one native to this world had any concept of an action having consequences.

It made sense. The first night after the shipwreck, one of Peter's followers had explained that, in Neverland, no one ever grew up. Clearly, they didn't develop maturity or anything more than a basic child's understanding of ethics, either.

And wasn't it just ironic, that criticism coming from a pirate?

Jones had been here nearly three weeks, and he was growing restless. The boy chief had given him little cause to complain. He was given free reign to train the others however he saw fit, and Peter never questioned his skills in sailing.

And yet.

It wasn't enough. Jones was a pirate captain, not some lackey doing another's bidding. And even if Peter hadn't flaunted his authority or his power since that first meeting on the beach three weeks ago, Jones was never able to forget who was really in charge.

It galled him.

Peter dropped his stick suddenly and turned to Jones. "You're awake."

"I am," Jones agreed.

The boy chief frowned thoughtfully. The light of the fire reflected in his unsettling eyes. "How much longer until the crew is ready?"

"To sail through a portal? Weeks. Months, maybe," Jones replied. "They can sail on calm waters with a clear blue sky, but I wouldn't trust this in a storm. And I certainly wouldn't trust them going through a portal."

Peter's frown deepened. He was clearly displeased, but he didn't push the issue.

"Are you in a rush?" Jones asked curiously.

"Me?" Peter replied, rising to his feet and stretching. "Of course not." He flashed a smirk. "I've got all the time in the world." He turned away from Jones then and said, "I'm going to take a walk."

Jones nodded even though Peter couldn't see, and the boy chief left.

The pirate sat quietly for a long time, staring at the dying fire. He'd tried once or twice to discover if any of Peter's followers harbored resentment against their leader, but he'd been unable to discover anything useful. They were loyal to a fault.

Next to Jones, a figure grumbled and groaned and turned over in his sleep. The movement must have caused some discomfort, because he awoke with an abrupt start and stared about wildly, trying to peer through the gloom.

"Jones?"

"Starkey," Jones replied, inclining his head.

Starkey was the oldest of Peter's followers, at least by appearances. It was hard to know how old anyone was. He had dark black hair and blue eyes and never smiled, but Jones liked him the most of everyone here. There was something devious underneath his dour façade.

In another life, Jones thought Starkey might have made a good pirate.

"Where's the chief?" Starkey asked, glancing around.

"Went for a walk," Jones replied.

"Ah."

"He's getting impatient," Jones added. "Wants you all to be ready by now. I don't think he realized how much time this would take."

Starkey shrugged and didn't say anything. Speaking ill of Peter Pan was akin to sacrilege.

They were silent for a long time, then Jones asked abruptly, "Starkey? How did you end up in Neverland?"

"Fell."

"You… fell?"

"Mm. Uh huh."

Jones raised his eyebrows. "Can you give any other details?"

Starkey propped himself up on his elbows and stared into the flames, contemplating this. He was silent for a long time, and Jones thought he might not answer, but then he said, "I was out in the field at my father's farm one day, and a hole appeared in the ground. I just… fell."

"How long ago was this?"

"I don't know. Years. Decades, maybe? Before the chief came."

Jones blinked. "Wait, you were in Neverland before Peter Pan?" he demanded.

"Yes. Ed Teynte and Bill Jukes were here, too. And some others… but they died."

Jones closed his eyes, thinking. This was the first that he had heard of any of this, and prior to the conversation he had merely assumed that Peter Pan was the chief because he had been in Neverland longer than anyone else, and could therefore set himself up as an authority figure. But if he had been a newer arrival, if there had been at least three others here first…

How had he managed to become chief? And why didn't anyone resent him for that?

He opened his eyes to ask Starkey for more of the story, but the other man had fallen back asleep.

They passed the islands without much trouble.

As soon as they had cleared the last of the reefs, Hook withdrew the revived bean from within the pocket of his shirt and closed his fingers around it tightly. As always, the thrill of anticipation rushed through him at the thought of entering the portal. This was dangerous sailing, and even with all his experience, even with his confidence that he could safely get himself and his ship to another realm, he was still nervous.

But he kept a calm exterior. At no point had he ever allowed anyone to see anything but supreme confidence. Even the first time he had sailed a ship – manned by a half-witted, poorly-trained crew – through a portal, he had refused to show even the slightest bit of fear. Let the others pray for a miracle to whatever they believed in; he would not display such weakness.

A smile curled his lips. He was so close to finally getting his revenge.

He drew back his arm and threw the bean, sending it sailing into the air in a high arc. He kept his eyes trained on it until it was swallowed up by the darkness of the night, and then a moment later it must have hit the water because a portal appeared.

He heard both Emma and Mary Margaret take an involuntary gasp of breath at the sight.

But instead of directing the ship forward, Hook turned to his two companions and said, "Once we enter the portal, every little mistake could destroy the ship and endanger all of us."

"Yes, we know," Emma snapped impatiently, waiving away his concerns as though they were unimportant. "You told us this many times. Let's just get going."

She clearly did not have the patience for repetition, even when that repetition could save her life.

"I'd rather my ship didn't end up in pieces in your world," Hook countered pointedly. He'd waited several hundred years for his revenge, and he could wait a little bit longer if that meant that they got it right this time.

"And I'd rather Cora didn't get to my son," Emma shot back, taking a threatening step forward. She didn't have time, and neither did her son, and they all knew that.

But Hook refused to be swayed. This was his ship, and no one, not even Emma Swan, was going to put it in danger. He'd put far too much time and effort into stealing it; he had no intention of losing it. Ever.

And it wasn't as though Emma had much of a hand to play now. She might have held all the cards in their previous alliance, but he was the one with the ability to sail the ship and navigate through the portal, and if he refused to help her, she would have no way to get home.

And she knew it.

He could see that this simple fact – that she had to rely on him for something, that she had to trust him to help her because she couldn't do everything herself – was irritating her far more than she wanted to let on.

It amused him.

Of course, he didn't particularly like having to rely on them, either. But he was willing to do it if it meant getting revenge for Milah. He would work with them, help them, trust them…

For now.

"I'm not reviewing this to annoy you," he said, softening his voice just a bit before adding with a smirk, "though I admit that is an added benefit."

"Hook!"

He rolled his eyes at the outburst and continued, "But it is imperative that we do this right. I don't want to arrive injured, or worse, get killed along the way. That would put us at a distinct disadvantage against our enemies."

Mary Margaret rested a hand on Emma's arm and murmured, "He's right." Emma gave her an incredulous look and she continued, "I want to get home just as badly as you do, Emma. But we can't be reckless."

"Henry is alone in Storybrooke. He has no protection!" Emma protested angrily, spinning away from Hook to face Mary Margaret.

"He has…"

"Regina?" Emma scoffed. "For all we know, she hasn't actually been trying to help us." She shook her head, temper flaring at the fact that they had trusted the Evil Queen and she had possibly betrayed them, before adding, "And if she is content to leave us here…"

"She loves Henry," Mary Margaret countered quickly, breaking into Emma's angry tirade. "She might hate us, Emma, and yes... it does seem possible that she hasn't really been trying to help us, but she loves Henry. Don't you believe that?"

"Sometimes I don't believe she's capable of love at all," Emma ground out, but despite the bitterness in her voice, Hook could tell from the look in her eyes that her words were not the truth. She did believe that the Evil Queen could love – and wasn't that a very strange thought?

"That's not true," Mary Margaret murmured. "We've been over this before. Regina might be willing to kill us, but she wouldn't deliberately hurt Henry."

"And what if she doesn't view Cora as a threat?" Emma countered pointedly.

Hook bit back a smirk at that question. Regina had sent him to kill her own mother – if that was not proof of her distrust of Cora, then what was?

He would have said that, too, but time and experience had taught him that sometimes it was better to quietly listen to an argument in the hopes that the others would be so wrapped up in their discussion that they would forget his presence and let something slip.

"Of course she will know that Cora is a threat," Mary Margaret retorted. "Cora killed Daniel…"

"And Regina blamed you for it," Emma countered, "not her mother."

Mary Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but apparently had nothing to say in response to that. She was quiet, worry and determination waring for control of her features. Then she shook her head and resumed her stoic expression. "She loves Henry," she said again, but this time it was clear that she was mostly trying to convince herself of that statement.

After all, the entire town of Storybrooke was in danger and the only two people who had the power to stop Cora were both generally considered to be evil. Hook knew that Mary Margaret had to believe that Regina's love for Henry was strong enough to counter her mother's insidious influence, or else there would be no town left for them to return to.

Hook sighed inwardly. Good people were so naïve.

Didn't they know that love was never enough?

He cleared his throat and interrupted the conversation then. "Shall we go over this again?" he suggested.

Emma glowered at him, but Mary Margaret nodded. "Yes," she said. To Emma, she added, "We need to make sure we get it right. There is too much at stake."

"Yes, my dear Snow, there is far too much at stake."

Cora leaned forward and gazed into the mirror thoughtfully. The image splayed across the smooth surface was concerning. She hadn't wanted Snow to make it to this land at all, but some part of her had accepted the fact that the meddlesome monarch would not give up until she had found a way back to her beloved family. Stopping her completely might not be an option.

In which case, she did not want Snow to make it to Storybrooke yet.

She needed time.

She touched the edge of the mirror with the tip of one finger and watched as the glass began to ripple. A small smile curved the corners of her lips.

"You pushed me through a looking glass, my daughter," she murmured, triumph edging into her voice, "and trapped me in a foreign land. And just look what I learned to do."

For some reason, it was Regina who seemed to be the most frequently associated with mirrors. No doubt the genie had something to do with that. But although Regina had been adequately trained in the complexities of mirrors, and although she had an enchanted mirror to do her bidding, she had never mastered – never even understood – the full potential of these delightfully useful devices.

No, that was something Cora had learned. Mirrors were her domain.

The image in the mirror rippled along the edges, and then the sky above the ocean began to darken.

Traveling through a mirror was difficult, and usually ended in the mirror being destroyed. And once the mirror was destroyed, it was even more difficult – and often impossible – to travel back.

But manipulation… that was something else entirely.

Cora couldn't very well send anything through the mirror. But so long as it didn't require passing anything through the glass, she could easily control events on the other side of the mirror.

For instance, she could gather up all the wind that should have rushed through the sky on any given day, pull it together, hold it tightly…

And then release it all at once.

The storm hit without warning.

The force of the waves smashing against the side of the ship sent Mary Margaret stumbling to her knees, and Emma only barely managed to stay upright by grabbing onto the nearest beam and clinging tightly. The sky darkened, clouds appeared as though by magic, and the wind howled.

What the hell…?

Even not knowing much of anything about magic, Emma knew this was not a normal storm.

"Emma!"

Emma twisted at the sound of her name and saw Mary Margaret slide across the deck as the entire ship rocked back and forth, coming dangerously close to capsizing. She scrambled towards her mother, momentarily letting go of her grip on the ship's bean, and realized too late what a mistake that was. The wood was slick from the waves that had crashed over the side of the ship, and she slipped and careened haphazardly towards the opposite railing and the raging sea.

She fingers scrambled for purchase against the deck, but found none, and she ended up plowing into Mary Margaret and sending them both tumbling.

She felt Mary Margaret's fingers wrap tightly around her wrist, and even in the storm, even with the threat of danger crashing over them from all sides, it was clear that her mother's biggest concern was that the two of them would be separated. She could her mother's words from their disagreement at the base of the beanstalk echoing in her head.

We go back together. That is the only way. Do you understand?

Emma pulled herself and Mary Margaret to a crouch and squinted through the dark for a sign of Hook. But she couldn't make out anything with the saltwater sloshing over the side of the ship and stinging her eyes. Her main concern was herself and her mother, and she could only hope that the pirate captain was somehow keeping himself safe.

After all, they needed him to get home.

She heard the sound of something ripping above her, and looked up in time to see the mainsail tear free from its bindings and flutter in the howling wind. Another gust tore the sail completely loose, and it floated in midair for a moment, twisting and turning in all sorts of odd shapes as the wind knocked it about.

Then it fell towards them.

Mary Margaret dragged Emma backwards, and as the sail came tumbling down towards them, Emma caught sight of Hook staggering across the deck.

Then the ship lurched sideways once more, and before Emma realized what was happening, she and Mary Margaret had been pitched over the railing and were falling towards the raging ocean below.