Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters, nor anything from C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia.

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale...

It was nearly nightfall when they reached the rock bridge that Jones had marked on the map. Emma wasn't positive, but it seemed to get colder as they headed further south, her hands nearly numb from the biting wind.

She could hardly believe they had got this far with all of the dangers she and Jones had faced, and it helped to raise her spirits that they at least had one of the rings in their possession. Seeing the vision of Henry had only strengthened her resolve to find that second ring and get back to the Enchanted Forest as quickly as possible.

Still, Emma couldn't stop thinking about how devastated Jones had been in the garden. His vision had something to do with a woman named "Milah," and it was obvious that she had meant a great deal to him. Emma assumed she already knew about this woman, but like most of her memories, the name was shrouded in mystery.

Jones said the map indicated that they had travelled all the way to the western edge of Narnia. The compass now pointed east, but was leading them south of the original path they had taken from the castle. He had suspicions that the ring might be somewhere near the Shuddering Wood, about fifteen miles away.

The rock bridge that Jones had mentioned they choose for their campsite was exactly what Emma had expected it to be. With a steep mountain on one side and a solid pile of rocks on the other, and suspending at least a hundred feet above them, the landmark was a nature-made Golden Gate Bridge.

Jones dismounted before helping Emma off the horse, and his bare hand brushed against the exposed skin on her waist from where her jacket rode up, creating a tingle there.

It was obvious that Emma had been attracted to Jones from the beginning; even when he had kissed her in the hallway, despite how appalled she had been and how she had reacted then.

After her little run in with the Viagra demon, Emma now found it extremely hard not to let her mind wander at the thought of feeling Jones' lips on hers; to find out how crafty that tongue of his really was.

She watched him closely as he leaned over the pile of wood he had collected, and his gaze jumped up to hers suddenly, catching her ogling him. With a lazy smirk, Jones gave her an expectant look.

"Care to light my fire, Darling?"

Her mouth opened slightly, her mind going to various places, before she quickly understood that he wanted her to use her magic to start their campfire. Emma narrowed her eyes to make it look like she wasn't amused, glancing over the pile of wood with hesitation. She hadn't been able to produce magic without being under duress since the cupcake, and she highly doubted that would be a big enough spark to get this fire going.

"Go on, then." Jones massaged his lower lip with his tongue, something she had seen him do before when he concentrated, and Emma felt a surge of annoyance that he effected her with so little effort.

Her mind now muddled with yearning, Emma reached out over the pile, and was surprised to feel heat generate from her hand almost immediately. A small trail of smoke rose from the wood, filling her nostrils with moldy pine, and her filling herself with a sense of accomplishment.

Jones leaned over, gently blowing on the wood, as his eyes stared into hers. Emma's hand suddenly felt like it was hovering over an open oven, and she leapt back as the pile burst into flame, its light illuminating the giant rock formation looming over their heads. Grinning slightly, he removed his jacket and began unpacking a few rations that Castrix's guards had provided them.

Shaking his head as he placed them into a cast-iron skillet, Jones met her eyes again. "You never cease to amaze me, Swan."

She needed no further explanation for his admiration, though she wasn't sure it was her magic that had her so baffled. Jones had the undeniable ability to make her heart beat faster with just a handful of words, his facial expressions and movements imprinting on her brain.

How had she ever managed to forget this man?

She gave him a bashful look and shook her head. "I'm not sure how I can do it, to be honest. Most of the time, I don't even think about it. It usually happens during moments of intensity."

Jones continued cooking their dinner, flashing a brilliant smile. "Well no one can deny that you are a passionate woman, luv," he said, the food sizzling in the pan.

Something about that statement seemed to awaken a curiosity in Emma, and her next words came out before she could stop them. "Was Milah passionate?"

Emma could tell immediately that she had taken the pirate by surprise, his hand tensing around the handle of the pan. He stood up, filling both of their plates; Emma suddenly feeling very ashamed for having sprung the question on him that way.

"Aye. She was, indeed."

Emma bit into the lean rabbit they had caught earlier, its earthy juices satisfying her hunger. Jones nodded silently to her, indicating that he'd like to sit and she nodded, moving over a bit to make room for him.

He started to devour his dinner, but paused after a few minutes to shoot her a questioning look. "You don't know anything about her?"

Regina had said something about Gold and Jones having a centuries-old dispute over a woman when Gold was known as Rumpelstiltskin. If Emma had to guess, Milah had something to do with it.

"No; though I could tell whatever happened with her must have hurt you pretty badly," Emma said, keeping her gaze on the fire.

For a long minute, she thought he wouldn't say anything else, as somewhere nearby a large stone tumbled down the rock bridge, the clattering sound echoing over the camp. Jones took in a deep breath, putting down his empty plate.

"Imagine yourself residing in a dark room for centuries, focusing all of your energy on trying to let go; let go of the pain and loneliness consuming you. It's unbearable at first, and you swear you won't survive, but it's the very same pain you feel that maintains any sense of reality."

Emma turned to his profile, watching the movement of every muscle in Jones' body. His broad shoulders were strained, and his hand shook slightly as he carefully unraveled himself to her.

"Eventually, though, you start to forget the little things, like the way her nose crinkled when she laughed or the sound of her breathing right before falling asleep in your arms. You drink enough rum and you take enough women to numb the ache, to push aside the feeling of needing anyone else again."

Something in his confession struck Emma close to home, and her throat tightened. The illumination from the flickering fire created shadows on his face, his scruff-covered jaw line appearing stoic, and suddenly Jones looked like a completely different man, almost menacing.

"Then your pain turns into rage, until it consumes you completely and there's nothing. There is only emptiness, and you're left with the realization that there is no happy ending; just the reckoning to be had."

He pulled his head toward her then, a look of utter failure in his features. "I just wanted it to be over; to even the scales and finally rest. But in three hundred years Emma, all I accomplished was forgetting those I loved, and the man I once was; or wanted to be."

Jones paused a moment, eyes downcast, and then he turned his gaze forward again, hanging his head low. "Rumpelstiltskin took a great deal from me when he murdered Milah, but I destroyed the rest; until nothing remained but an empty flask and a bloodied hook."

As difficult as it had been to hear him speak that way about another woman, to see his eyes so filled with grief, Emma knew it must have been even harder for Jones to tell her something like that. She didn't think it was possible to have words strike her so deeply, especially when they came from a man she had known for such a short time.

But perhaps that was the point: maybe she didn't know him as well as she'd thought.

And yet, Jones had told her something that he may have never told anyone. As much as she had done for him, Emma had yet to open herself up to him like that.

"I lied when you asked me if I remembered anything and I told you that I hadn't," she said, breaking the silence between them. "I've been having flashes of memories for about a year; they come and go."

He turned his head toward her slowly, his brow quirking in question. "I believe you already told me that bit of information during breakfast a few mornings back."

Jones stood up, grabbing his backpack and unrolled a sleeping bag near the fire, a pair of hooting owls creating lonely melody around them.

"No. I told you about my dream, but not about the visions." She unpacked her things next to his. "It's happening slowly, but I've had memories of Neal, my mom, and even Regina."

"I see," he mumbled lightly, climbing into his bedding and removing the hook from his brace.

She felt a heaviness fall over her chest at the disappointment in his voice. Every reminder that she hadn't completely regained her memory was like a strike to Emma's heart.

Climbing into her bag, she felt the wind blow harder and colder around them. She took a moment to reconsider before she carefully leaned in to her left and closer to Jones, her side against his.

Jones shifted to his right side, propping himself up with an elbow, and moving to say something. Emma covered his mouth with her finger, giving him a warning look.

"I'm getting chilly, so save it buddy."

He kissed her finger briefly with a wink, and she rolled her eyes, gently pulling away. Emma shifted so that her back was nearly resting against his chest. Jones chuckled softly, as the fire continued to crackle, filling the air, rather than the words still unsaid between them.

She felt her eyes droop and relaxation set in, before Jones spoke again, his voice playful. "I don't reckon there were any memories that included a dashing, one-handed pirate, were there, luv?"

Allowing herself to smile since he couldn't see her face, Emma responded without hesitation. "No, not really..."

He sighed deeply, obviously disappointed. A few moments passed, before Emma started to move, not giving herself time to reconsider; slowly grasping Jones' good hand to wrap his arm around her.

"... but I'm working on making some pretty good new ones."

I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's no where we can hide...

It wasn't the howling of a wolf, or even the hint of sunlight poking through the dense cloud cover that woke Emma the next morning. Jones' body had shifted under her arm, which was now draped over his chest, the warmth radiating through his thin, black shirt and his salty, leathery scent filling her senses.

The openings of their sleeping bags were facing each other, and at some point she must have turned around to snuggle into his chest, the soft hair tickling her cheek. Emma's body went rigged at first, her initial reaction being to get up and start packing, but it didn't take her long to realize that she didn't want to move from this; from him. This was the most relaxed she's been since; well, since New York. Emma hadn't given herself time to think, let alone feel anything good. This was pretty damn comfortable. This was easy.

This was nice.

Not wanting to break the moment, she glanced up at him carefully and noticed that Jones' was already awake, the braced arm tucked under his head, and his expression calm. "Good morning, Sweetheart."

Slowly, he used his good hand to brush a lock of golden hair from her cheek, his eyes searching hers for any hint of anger or fear at his touch.

Though her heartbeat picked up, Emma surprised herself by not pulling away, meeting his stare without hesitation. "Hey pirate," she breathed back, a small smile daring to show itself on her face.

They stayed like that a few moments longer, neither one in any hurry to move. Jones clasped her hand in his before brushing it with his lips. To her slight disappointment, though, he untangled himself from her and stood.

Making his way over to the horses to pack their gear, Jones spoke over his shoulder. "There is a lake just a few miles from our location. We could stop there before we head south."

Emma stretched, then crawled out of her bag and pulled on her jacket, reflecting on their lack of hygiene over the last two days. She had bathed before they left the castle, but since then, they had to settle for rinsing off at the river's edge when they camped for the night. Besides that, there were no humans in Narnia, so she and Jones hadn't changed clothes since they left Storybrooke.

Of course, she hadn't seen Jones change clothes at all, and still the man smelled better than just about any person she's ever met: the man was a morsel wrapped in masculine spice and coconut rum, wrapped in lust.

Inwardly scolding herself, Emma shook her head. Though she couldn't help but feel warm, despite the increasingly frigid air around them, she knew they had more pressing things to worry about.

"So you think that another ring is somewhere near this Shuddering Wood place?" Emma asked Jones, making her way back over him after having filled their canteens at the stream.

Jones shook his head and helped Emma onto the horse. "Well, the compass indicates that we need to head southeast, and the map is showing that as the next major landmark."

Emma took a drink of the bitterly cold water, glancing around for any sign of the lake. Jones mounted his horse and they set off immediately at a brisk pace.

She enjoyed the quiet silence between them at first, the Narnian air waking her up as good as any shower. Though, she would just about kill for a shower right now.

After a few minutes, though, the silence got the best of her and Emma spoke. "Why did you kiss me?"

The question had hung on her lips for days, the need to understand finally spilling over. Hell, this was a good a time to ask him as any other.

"You'll need to be more specific on which occasion, luv." She was somewhat surprised to see that Jones didn't appear anxious, the corner of his mouth twitching in delight. "As I certainly can't take credit for the incubus, you see-"

"I meant in New York," she huffed, annoyed at the small snort she heard from him. The wind bit into her face and she wrapped the collar of her sweater up past her chin.

His face turned more serious then, his gaze forward as he answered with some hesitation. "It wasn't the first time."

That had come as no shock to her, since based on their interaction and her attraction toward him, Emma figured they had probably kissed at least once before she lost her memory. His withdrawn demeanor, though, gave her pause. She watched as he seemed to struggle inwardly before his reply.

"While we were in Neverland, I had saved your father's life. He had been struck with a poison arrow and I was able to find something to keep him alive."

Emma noticed the ground now appeared firm beneath the horses' hooves, frost replacing the dew drops on the grass.

"You and I had grown closer during our journey there and I asked you for a show of thanks," his voice grew low and Emma was amused to see that Jones actually looked bashful, his ears turning red.

For a brief moment, Emma's stomach lurched and she had wondered just how intimate they had been before, but judging by Jones' bashful look, she supposed it must have just been a kiss...one hot kiss by the current expression on his face.

Emma couldn't help herself. "I was that good, huh?"

Jones barked a laugh that rang over the quiet land, his cloud of breath coming out like exhaust from a tailpipe. "That you were, indeed."

Emma threw a mock scowl his way, the sun peeking through the clouds again briefly. "Sounds like maybe you forced me into this kiss Jones," she teased him, her lighthearted mood surprising herself.

Still, she could tell from this angle that he was enjoying her teasing, Jones' teeth gleaming against the rare sunlight. "You certainly didn't need much coercion, Darling."

Emma quietly giggled into the collar of her sweater and turned to him, her face red from the cold breeze and the blush creeping onto her cheeks. "How do I know you're not just lying to me?"

He met her eyes, and she saw that they twinkled with mischief. "I may be a pirate, but I do follow a code."

Jones turned his head back to face forward, and she caught a glimpse of the lake he had mentioned about a hundred yards away.

"Although I must admit," he continued, his face now serious, "you did seem to have a bit of remorse afterward." Emma caught a hint of sadness in his voice. "You had said it was a 'one-time thing.'"

That definitely sounded like something she would say. Even now, her instincts kept telling her to pull away from this man who had done so much to help her and her family. She felt a pang of shame strike her, opening her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud howl.

Long and mournful, the sound resonated over the land, chilling her bones more than the weather had. Jones stopped the horse and looked around, panicked.

"Don't make a sound." His voice was hushed and Emma frowned in confusion, looking around for the source.

Suddenly, Jones' eyes went wide with fear, as the horses whinnied anxiously beneath them. Jones leaned over and grasped her arm, his tone stern. "Listen to me, I want you to head toward that lake," he said pointing ahead.

Emma shot him an incredulous look, but he had already gone back to searching for any other signs of danger. "I'll be right behind you, luv."

"Jones-

Another loud howl cut her off, this one sounding angry, making her breath hitch.

Jones drew his sword and before she could react, he slapped Emma's horse in the rear, making it surge forward toward the lake. She stopped herself from yelling out, knowing Jones was serious about staying quiet.

The animal's breath was ragged, its muscles tensing under her legs, as hooves crunched over the frozen blades of grass beneath. Emma's heart pounded against her chest, the biting wind blurring her vision and numbing her hands, which gripped onto the reins like a lifeline.

The lake hadn't been as far as she thought, and a row of pines stretched across the plains between her and the water's edge. She wanted to look back for him, but Emma knew that he could take care of himself. Jones had never left her before, so she was sure they'd meet up soon enough. As she approached the lake, however, it appeared to be covered in a layer of ice, thick and solid. The horse came to a halt and she dismounted quickly, her boots hitting with the frozen ground with a thud.

Pulling out her sword, Emma looked for any sign of movement. Nothing could be seen but a flock of buzzards circling in the distance, the line of trees making it impossible discern was going on. The howling had stopped for now, the silence scaring her even more.

Please be safe. Please be safe.

There were no birds singing, no indication of life at all, just the cracking of twigs beneath her feet as she strained her eyes and ears for Jones.

"My, oh my."

A gruff voice startled Emma so much that she jumped, her boot catching on frozen tree root, and she stumbled to the ground. Her horse startled violently, ripping away from the branch and took off toward the tree line.

Regaining her wits, Emma looked up from a sitting position, and propped herself up to meet the source of the voice face-to-face.

It was a miracle that she hadn't gasped out loud. The wolf creature standing before her must have been seven or eight feet in height, taller than her horse. He stood on two hind legs, hunched over with arms almost as long as he was. His fur was a dark grey, dusted with hints of silver, and his large paws were as big as baseball gloves that had lanky fingers lined with sharp claws.

"I believe you look lost, my dear."

The words rumbled from his chest, the wolf creature's jagged, yellow teeth showing, as his mouth was positioned into a sinister grin.

Emma slowly let out the breath she had been holding, doing the best she could not to show any sign of fear. "Who are you?" Her voice was steady, but she hesitated before slowly getting to her feet.

His dark chuckle was raspy, like sandpaper, and as fearsome as he was, Emma guessed that this creature was no young pup. "I could ask you the same question; seeing as you have stumbled onto our land."

She maintained some composure, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. "Emma Swan."

His bushy, white eyebrows rose in surprise. "Swan, eh?"

His look of amusement turned to curiosity, as he slowly paced back and forth only a few feet in front of her, the strong muscles flexing beneath his fur.

"I am Vardan, a werewolf from this land and leader of my pack." She felt her heart twitch at that, as he continued.

"I was once a part of the White Witch's reign, but was forced to stay here when the land and most of its inhabitants were destroyed."

She reeled in the information, and remembered the White Witch from the Narnian stories. As Emma recalled, she was not a pleasant woman, turning the land into a frozen tundra for many years.

Vardan stopped suddenly and stared into her face, his eyes as black as coal. "Why have you come to Narnia?"

Emma was about to speak, but she saw his gaze shift down to the compass, growing wide with excitement. Apparently her reason for being there hadn't been all that important to the werewolf. "Ah, what have we here?"

Vardan leaned over and grabbed the chain with his paw, the razor claws grazing against her neck. For a moment she panicked, also remembering the ring inside her satchel, but was relieved to see that it had fallen on the ground with her sword, only a few yards away.

She twitched irritably and he noticed, his smile returning once more. "It must be valuable, I take it?" Emma watched as he turned the compass over in his hairy fingers, and was inwardly pleased to see that it was no longer glowing.

After a few moments of her silence, the werewolf threw the compass aside, clearly bored with the trinket. "No matter," he growled at her, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You see, we werewolves don't value treasure as much as pleasure."

The creature had the undeniable smell of iron on his breath, his teeth gleaming with what she knew to be blood. Emma's stomach plummeted, unspeakable images invading her conscience.

Oh God. Jones.

"We can survive for months without eating, but never slow in our quest for carnage."

Emma's eyes glanced once more over to the sword, but knew she wouldn't get to it in time due to the werewolf's proximity. "And when we finally find a being to quench the overwhelming thirst," Vardan snarled, his fur sticking up on his back, "there is no escaping our lust for blood."

Without warning, the werewolf was knocked sideways, his body hurling into a heap a few feet away. Emma had just enough time to grab her sword, her satchel, and the compass lying only a few feet away, then glanced up to see Jones jumping off of the back of the horse and pulling it toward her.

"Get on, now!" Jones helped her into the saddle, as Vardan slowly got to his feet, fury flashing across his features.

She didn't need Jones to speak this time, his intent very clear, but she was determined to stay. "You're coming with me."

"There isn't time, Emma. Please."

Before she could reply the werewolf leapt at them, his enraged roar shaking Emma down to her boots. Jones swung his hook in an attempt to keep the creature at bay, but Vardan swiped his massive paw against Jones' shoulder, knocking him to the ground with a thump.

Emma yelled out to Jones as the horse reared up, and she was nearly thrown to the ground with him, somehow maintaining her balance. Instinctively, Emma plunged her sword down into the werewolf with force, who howled in pain as she felt blade meet bone near his right shoulder. Vardan hunched over in agony, blood splattering red onto the snow-dusted grass next to Jones. He was down on one knee, holding his arm in agony as Emma made her way over to him.

Before she could hoist him on with her, another series of howls rang out, this time the chorus of multiple wolves. Jones didn't hesitate, grabbing the reigns and running out on the lake with Emma still mounted to the horse.

The frosty ice beneath them appeared wet and slippery, but he didn't seem to have much trouble putting distance between the two of them and Vardan's pack. She glanced back and saw the injured werewolf regain his senses, the look of calm in the creature's eyes striking terror into her heart.

They had made it about twenty yards away, when Jones pulled the horse to stop. Emma realized at that point, that he had no intention of running away, moving slowly to draw his sword. Jones stopped her before she could dismount, using his good hand to yank on the hilt of his weapon, but to no avail. The sword would not budge.

She felt her breath catch and saw that Jones' blade was frozen to the scabbard. They were defenseless and outnumbered, and there was no way the horse could outrun all the wolves while carrying both of them.

Emma noticed the buzzards flying over their heads again, sensing that the mangy birds were desperate for a reason to land. She glanced down to see Jones wincing in obvious pain, his breath ragged.

There was a triumphant look on Vardan's face, his jagged, yellowed teeth showing again. "As I said; there is no escape."

The other wolves slowly closed in for the kill, and Jones turned back to make eye contact with her, Emma's heart breaking at the defeat written on his face.

No please. Not like this.

Suddenly, there was a large crack, like sound of bat connecting with a baseball. Emma watched Jones take a few cautious steps in her direction, his hand out behind him as if to urge her backwards also. It happened in a split second, and Emma caught the fear in Vardan's eyes before the group of wolves plummeted into the icy water, a string of animalistic cries resounding over the arctic landscape.

Emma glanced down at Jones as the pack continued their futile struggle, and helped hoist him on to the horse. Without a second look, she dug her heels in, and they sped off toward the other side of the lake.

There was no time to stop and check Jones; no time to think about what had happened. So she pushed the horse onward, off of the lake, into the forest, and as far away from danger as possible, the last remnants of anguished howling ringing in her ears.

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

A/N: Lyrics throughout the chapter: Imagine Dragons. "Demons." Night Visions. 2012. Interscope.