Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

Chapter 18

She had to find him.

Emma's boots clattered across the wood, as she surveyed the deck of the Jolly Roger. The sails above her head struggled against the warm, but raging winds; the force propelling the ship forward, as the bow ripped through the sea.

Her head had stopped throbbing, but she couldn't locate the captain. Rubbing the wound, Emma felt the scab of hardened blood that gathered under her wet hair.

The last of the mermaid bodies were hoisted off of the ship, and many of the crew still scrubbed the decks that had been painted red with the blood of both man and beast.

She grabbed the arm of a nearby sailor to ask his assistance, and the young, blonde blushed under his short scruff.

'No, milady. I don't believe the Captain has returned from-'

'I told you that I don't bloody care about the rations. Find the princess immediately!'

Emma swerved her head around, and despite the existence of that same, strange buzzing sound that she had heard before, Emma recognized the source of the voice before she saw a face: the booming, yet velvety accent that only he could possess.

He caught her eyes at that moment and his mouth closed; the intended words never reaching the ears of a nearby, embarrassed sailor.

Although he was across the other end of the ship, the captain was at her side in seconds, cupping Emma's face in his gloved hand with a worried expression.

'Darling, are you-'

'I'm fine; don't worry.' She glanced around at the remnants of the battle, letting out a long sigh. 'You have enough to worry about right now.'

Emma saw him shake his head slightly, as he stepped away from her. Grabbing the wheel, he peered into the clear sky above them with a peaceful look. She had to admit that he certainly wore the color blue very well.

The man wore everything (and nothing) very well.

The wind slowed down significantly, and the hazy air made it possible for Emma to walk the deck without her jacket or cloak; as the make-shift tank top and salty mist of the ocean, kept her cool.

'You should be resting after that nasty fall, luv.'

He spoke toward the sky, but Emma could feel his appraising stare. She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the rail, facing his profile.

'You should be doing inventory of your ship. I'm pretty sure we took some heavy losses from that last attack.'

Emma carefully watched his reaction, and noticed that his usual humor was not there; dark circles rimming his bloodshot eyes.

'I'm sorry about your crew,' she said softly, as the waters lapped against the side of the ship.

There was a hint of pain that flashed across his face, before the captain nodded slowly.

'Aye, they were good men; every one of them.'

She craned her neck up at the countless stars, as they shimmered gloriously over them, not a single cloud present to cover their brilliance. It reminded Emma of Henry's freckles, various sizes and shapes, dusting over his face in no particular pattern.

It must have been the clearest night sky she had ever seen.

Emma chanced another glimpse over at the pirate, who now looked at her with a poignant expression, one that made her think he had read her mind.

'Beautiful evening,' he drawled to her casually, as she raised an eyebrow in question.

His chuckle was low, but she practically felt it resonate through her chest and into her heart. He knew they were both being stubborn, but there was no reason they couldn't take a minute between the chaos.

'All things, considered, of course,' the captain added, giving her a small wink.

He often used teasing to get her to relax, and Emma knew immediately that she was caught: that he knew something weighed heavily on her mind.

This was as good a time as any to talk to him.

After a long minute of silence, though, the pirate beat her to it and spoke again; only this time he was looking at the top of the main mast.

'I see our patron saints are watching over us tonight.'

Emma followed his eyes upward, amazed to see a large, blue-violet flame glowing around the sharpest point of the mast's spar. She nearly yelled out, thinking the mast was on fire, but Emma turned to see that the captain was still smiling.

'What is that?'

Taking out the flask on his hip, he glanced around to be sure no one was watching, and took a swig. Emma accepted the drink when he offered and allowed the liquid to warm her body throughout.

'That, my dear princess,' he said matter-of-factly, as Emma shot him a glare, 'is known as St. Elmo's Fire. It usually appears before a thunderstorm, sometimes afterward. I'm surprised to see it hanging about so long, to be honest.'

She had seen the corny movie from the 80's, but hadn't realized it was an actual term sailors used. Emma stared up at the light, now realizing that the buzzing from before, had come from the mast.

'Why does it make that hissing sound?'

He swung the wheel to the right, his eyes never leaving the compass on the base of the helm.

'Some religious sailors believe the fire is a sign that the patron saint of sailing, Erasmus (or Elmo, as it were) has come to protect the ship. They claim the sound represents the saint being struck by lightning; which was how the poor bloke came to meet his fate.'

It was odd to see him storytelling, and despite the somber mood from their recent losses, the pirate seemed to enjoy telling the tale.

'Others,' he continued, 'reckon it is a sign from the two brothers who set sail on a search for the mystical Golden Fleece. Legend says that they saved the crew during a terrible storm by praying to Poseidon; so when the light comes, they believe it is a sign of fortune.'

Emma stifled a giggle, seeing how serious his face was.

The captain noticed her skepticism, frowning as he took back the flask from her.

'You think it's all a load of bullocks, then?'

She slowly composed herself, watching him raise his eyebrows at her merriment. Emma thought it sounded a bit far-fetched, but after everything she has experienced, it did seem rather hypocritical of her.

'So, did you hear about these tales or did you see them happen for yourself?

He turned to face her again, his mouth twitching with a mix of indignation and humor when one of the lieutenants approached them.

'Captain, we have located the majority of our rations, but the cargo hold took in a great deal of water. The main compartment was destroyed when…'

Emma found no reason to stay and listen to the sailor's report. She would go to the captain's cabin for an update and wait for him to return.

They could always talk later.

'Emma!'

She had nearly reached the stairs when Emma heard his voice, and turned to face him, but he wasn't there; and neither was his lieutenant.

Emma looked around and saw that she was alone on the ship, nothing but the faint buzzing and the bright glow from St. Elmo's Fire hovering above her head.

"Emma…Princess Emma?"

She squinted hard, the bright light from the large windows nearly blinding her, as the room came into focus. Emma noticed a pair of dark, round eyes, which peered down into her own, and wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved.

"Hey there, hot stuff."

The face was familiar, but Emma had to do a double-take when she saw what Ruby was wearing. It was a simple dress, though with a tightly-fitting corset, showing plenty to the beholder, which reminded Emma of the barmaids at Oktoberfest.

"Nice wench's outfit," she murmured, slowly getting out of bed and stretching her back. Her friend had been helping her get adjusted to castle life for the past week, but Emma was not overly happy with Ruby's idea of privacy. "Has everyone had breakfast already?"

Ruby threw Emma's clothes on the comforter, nodding her head.

"Your dad and Henry are training in the courtyard," Ruby replied, straightening out Emma's dress with a casual swipe of her hand.

"And your mom insisted that I try something a little more appropriate of the castle's staff, so I chose this instead of the booty shorts."

Emma laughed, shaking her head as she walked over to the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of her son in the courtyard.

"I still don't like the idea of anyone waiting on me, so let's just humor Mary Margaret until she has the baby, and be done with it. What was wrong with the red cloak you've been wearing?"

Ruby shrugged, putting her hands on both hips.

"That's really just for nightly strolls," she said with a wink. "You know how it goes."

Emma walked back over to the bed, shaking her head slowly. She ruffled the lace of the dress lying out for her and frowned.

"What's with this 'Princess Emma' crap, anyway? I thought we agreed that you'd just call me 'Emma', like you always have."

No matter how many times she had been called "princess" over the past week, Emma couldn't help but feel like she was playing the part of someone else entirely.

"That was more just to see how you would react," Ruby said, as she made her way to the door.

"And you better get used to it, because it's only going to get worse, Your Highness."

Emma smiled in spite of herself, enjoying the light-hearted conversation that always came from talking to Ruby. She turned, though, before the redhead could leave, shouting over her shoulder.

"Hey, do we have anything a little more flexible to wear in this place?"

As easy as it was to find her way around that first night in the Enchanted Forest, Emma was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed.

She had noticed how large the castle in Narnia had been, but this one was nearly twice that size; with four wings, nearly five levels, and far more doors than necessary. If this was any indication of how the rest of the property was set up, Emma would need a GPS to find her way around the entire thing.

The tan, leather, riding trousers fit Emma perfectly, allowing her to stretch without worrying if anyone would get a peak at something they shouldn't. The white, peasant top was quite breathable, covered with a brown, suede vest that gave Emma ample room to rotate her arms. The black riding boots came just past her calf, and Ruby even found her a pair of leather gloves for sword fighting.

Apparently the outfit had belonged to Mary Margret, when she went by "Snow"; before Regina had driven her from their castle and into the nearby woods.

She made her way through the royal garden, and headed straight for the training courtyard. Emma was surprised to see a group gathered around a young soldier, who she did not recognize, sparing with none other, than her tenacious and very sweaty-looking son.

The courtyard was much larger than she imagined. If Emma had to guess, there was enough room to park a dozen bulldozers in there; if of course, bulldozers existed in the Enchanted Forest.

Arrow dummies, a wide range of weapons, and various types of armor covered the area; which was surrounded by high, stone walls. She was surprised to see lavender petals covering the perimeter; their fragrance reaching Emma's nose in the warm breeze, as small gravel crunched beneath her boots.

Henry did not see her approach, as he appeared quite focused on his opponent and the quiet, vocal instruction given to him by a man standing somewhere nearby. Once Emma reached the circle, her interest turned to mild annoyance, when she saw the source of the voice.

Hook was nearly covered in his typical black attire, except he wore a vest made of heavy leather material, rather than his long coat, which Emma assumed he left back in Narnia. She, too, had disappointedly left her clothes (including her favorite red jacket) in the other land, in her excitement to get back to Henry.

Despite his continued mumbling of feedback, Hook immediately made eye contact with her, causing Emma's heart to beat faster. She only held his gaze for a moment, before focusing her attention back to Henry, so not to let the pirate know how much his stare affected her.

Emma would be lying to herself if she said the man was not in her thoughts. Beyond staying up various nights thinking about what had happened between them in Narnia, Emma felt the tension between them, and the obvious, physical reaction to his presence.

That- and the fact, that the damn pirate tried to get her alone to talk at every opportunity; which she always seemed to find a way around.

Still, there was so much more to consider. The series of dreams that had started since the morning Hook arrived on her doorstep in New York, made Emma wonder if these weren't just images representing her self-conscience, but rather something that needed to be taken seriously.

In her distraction regarding dreams and the darkly-clad instructor standing only a few yards away, Emma failed to see her father come and stand on her right, his warm hand cupping her shoulder.

"If I had any doubt to whether you were your mother's daughter, I certainly don't anymore."

Emma glanced over to see that David was dressed similarly to how she was, but unlike her, he was apparently relaxed and very much in his element.

She gave him a small, but inviting smile, before Emma turned back to watch her son parry an attack with his blade. She raised her eyebrows, keeping her eyes on her Henry's impressive level of skill as Emma answered her father.

"Are you talking about the ass-kicking, riding pants or the unwavering stubbornness?"

She didn't have to turn to see David's gleaming smile.

"Well, I was referring mostly to the attire, but you certainly have a point on the stubborn part," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I admit you got a double-dose of that from both sides."

Pulling her focus from Henry's movements for a moment, Emma turned slightly toward David.

"Congrats on the baby," she mumbled. Her features gave the impression of artificial joy, but Emma noticed that he took no offense to her lack of enthusiasm.

"Thank you," David replied softly, placing his hand back onto her shoulder. "We're glad to have both of our children safe."

When she didn't say anything, he squeezed her shoulder gently and continued.

"I didn't get a chance to ask, but all of your memories have returned, right?"

Emma nodded her head in the affirmative, wincing when Henry's feet were kicked out from under him by the young soldier; but she smiled when he got back up only moments later.

She was relieved that David seemed to understand why Emma didn't wish to discuss the baby at great length just yet. As much as she loved Mary Margaret and appreciated her input, her father had a way of providing guidance, without forcing the issue before she was ready.

After a few moments of silence, David spoke again with a serious expression.

"So, it sounds like Gold has a plan to defeat these witches," he said, keeping his eyes on Henry. "Do you think we can trust him?"

Emma's first impulse was to say "not a chance," but she knew that they needed all the help they could get. Even if he had used deceit to get the other ring, Gold had proven himself a useful ally in the past.

"Well, I'm not sure about trust," she murmured, watching Henry duck under the wooden sword. "I know he plans to use the rings, but I'm in the dark about the details."

She turned her attention to Hook, then, narrowing her eyes in displeasure. "I'm in the dark about a lot of things these days."

David didn't say anything right away, but Emma knew he had caught her meaning. Turning to her slowly, he grabbed her hand in his own, leaning in so that only she could hear.

"I can tell you aren't too pleased with Hook, but Mary Margret and I are grateful to him for bringing you and Henry back to us."

Emma pursed her lips and remained quiet, knowing there was some truth in what he said. The two of them would still be in New York, living a life that wasn't truly their own, and no way to know that their family was in danger; far away in another land.

She suddenly noticed that Henry had stopped the sparring, and turned to his instructor.

"Let's see if you can handle a sword as good as in the movies, Captain."

Emma stepped forward then, but David held her arm gently.

"It's ok, Emma," he said reassuringly.

Hook gave Henry an appraisal, as a small smile crept onto his face. Henry moved forward, and tapped his wooden sword to Hook's leg, taunting him playfully.

"Come on, Killian. What better way to learn from my instructor than first-handed?"

The pirate's face broke into a wide grin, then, and a chuckle escaped his lips, as Henry's sparring partner passed Hook his wooden sword.

"Very well, young sir. Prepare yourself."

The pirate took the proper stance, giving Henry an expectant look to do the same. Before they could engage, however, a gruff voice echoed over the courtyard.

"Not so fast, Hook."

Neal emerged from behind a group of guards, removing his fur cloak, as he joined them. Neal nudged Henry aside toward Emma, mumbling something to his son under his breath.

Looking back to the pirate, Neal pulled out his real sword and aimed it Hook.

"You really should dual with someone your own age," Neal hissed at him, motioning for Hook to draw his own sword, which was sheathed at his side.

There was a sarcastic tone in his voice when Hook replied, though he drew his weapon, as requested.

"Well that would narrow the options a bit, mate."

There wasn't a bit of humor on Neal's face, as Emma pulled Henry next to her, and the group waited for someone to initiate a move.

Neal placed a beat sharp to Hook's blade, trying to provoke him.

"You have never been my mate."

Hook did not respond, a serious look now written on his face, as he carefully watched Neal circle him. Without warning, Neal cut his blade down horizontally, aiming at Hook's left shoulder, but the pirate lazily parried the strike, his words calm.

"I do not wish to fight you."

Neal was not discouraged, but lunged forward and slashed his blade again with a swinging cut to Hook's left leg. The captain deflected it away from his body, his sword pointed to the ground. Retreating back a few steps, Hook tried to disengage, holding his arm out to keep Neal at a distance.

"It's not enough you had to destroy my family once," Neal spat at him, his sword at the ready. "But I'm not a boy this time."

Hook looked like Neal's words had struck him harder than any blow of a sword ever could.

"It was not my intent to hurt you or your mother."

Neal took a swipe of his sword to Hook's neck, but the pirate ducked under the arching blow and advanced with a counter attack, swinging his sword over his head to hit Neal's blade, once, twice, and a third time. Neal ran under the last vertical strike and both men quickly turned to face one another again.

Emma knew Hook would never harm Neal willingly, but as the two continued their sparring, she had to wonder whether Neal was angry enough to cause Hook serious injury. She realized that this was about more than just Neal's mother, but remained silent, keeping Henry close to her side.

"Enough. I thought we were past all of this nonsense," Hook rasped to him, panting now.

"That was back when you said you'd keep your distance. You swore you would back off, pirate."

Emma frowned in confusion and stared at Hook's face, waiting for him to explain further, but Neal continued.

"What, you think I don't know?" Neal advanced on him slowly, the point of his sword aimed at Hook's chest. "You think I didn't notice that something changed between you two?"

Emma felt her stomach plummet, Neal's words sending a blanket of dread over her. A part of her wanted Hook to deny it; to keep their secret safe, but knew that he wouldn't.

She was right. Hook only glanced over at Emma, making eye contact for a brief moment.

Neal had caught the interaction, before he charged at Hook with a growl, and cut diagonally at his shoulder. Expertly, though, Hook parried the strike, their blades connecting forcefully, causing Neal to drop his sword.

Before he could react, however, Neal swung his fist into Hook's gut, making the captain double-over. It appeared as though Hook was about to surrender, but he suddenly kicked at Neal's knees, making him stumble, before he backhanded Neal to the face, spinning him over and to the ground on all fours with a grunt.

Emma gritted her teeth and felt Henry stiffen beside her. After a moment, Hook sheathed his sword and extended his hand to help him up. It appeared as though Neal could smell something rancid, a look of disgust all over his features, and he smacked the pirate's hand away.

"Bloody hell, Neal. There is no need for us to do this."

Without warning, Neal grabbed his sword, still lying on the ground, and swung his blade upward. Hook was too quick, though, drawing his sword to block the attack; a clashing of metal ringing throughout the courtyard.

Emma was surprised by Neal's flexibility as he leapt to his feet, and kicked his leg out, spinning around to slash his sword at Hook's head. Something seemed to snap in the pirate, and Hook took a swipe at Neal's chest with great force, nearly connecting with his vest.

The move caused Neal to stumble backward slightly, but he pulled an evasive movement; dropping his body beneath Hook's weapon, and placed his free hand on the ground for balance. As Hook loomed over him, Neal straightened his sword arm and stabbed at his torso.

Hook leapt to the side, grabbing Neal's blade in between his hook and connected the hilt of his sword to his opponent's face with a crunch; Neal staggering backward with a grimace of pain.

Henry yelled out to his father, and started to move toward the fight, but Emma pulled her son back, whispering to him softly.

"No Kiddo, stop. It's alright."

There was an obvious flash of guilt on Hook's face as he stood only feet from Neal and caught his breath. After a few moments, Hook turned to walk away, but Neal was enraged, as he ran at the captain with his weapon drawn.

The words were out of her mouth in an instant.

"Watch out!"

Hook swung around in just enough time, Neal's attack coming over his head, but Hook moved his sword to his right shoulder, pointed upward, and parried the swipe easily with his blade.

Still, Neal's lunge caught the pirate by surprise, forcing him to stumble as Neal swung violently again; and this time the blade sliced directly into Hook's left cheek.

The pirate fell to his knees and dropped his sword, grasping the wound. A small trace of blood trickled down his lip where Hook had made contact, as Neal sheathed his sword, panting heavily. He stood there dumbly and watched Hook like he couldn't believe what had happened.

Emma stroked Henry's hair, but tried to keep her face impassive, telling her son to head back to the castle. He began to resist, but she held her ground and the young knight-in-training trudged off, two soldiers on either side of him.

Moving past Neal with a shove, Emma approached Hook, who had got up on one knee. He glanced up at her, his stubble now smeared almost completely red.

"Emma-"

Neal's words were cut off by David, who had come to stand next to him. Emma noticed frustration in his tone, as her father spoke.

"Neal, I think you should help the guards clean up."

There was defiance in Neal's posture, but he took one last glimpse at her and Hook, before he gathered up the remaining gear, and headed for the castle.

Emma turned back to Hook, and knelt down to get a better look at the wound. Her face must have reflected some concern, because the pirate looked almost giddy.

"Don't fret, Darling," he drawled out, beads of sweat covering his forehead and neck. "No scratch can spoil this handsome face."

She rolled her eyes, before moving her hand to his glove. "Shut up, you'll make it bleed more."

Emma slowly pried his glove from the wound, its leather sticking already from some of the blood that had dried, the distinct smell of iron filling her nostrils.

She looked closely at the cut; which stretched about four inches, from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and ran fairly deep into the flesh.

Hook watched Emma carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, as she moved her fingertips over it, making him flinch slightly.

Emma was about to tell him to keep still, when her hand felt a familiar twinge, the heat growing as the seconds ticked on. Hook seemed awestruck, watching Emma's hand as it hovered over his face.

The gash glowed slightly at first, and Emma gasped softly as she watched it close, the blood flow coming to a complete stop, and leaving only a red, raw scar in its place. She stood up, glancing down at her hand in amazement.

David approached them both, and helped Hook to his feet, giving Emma an impressed look.

"I didn't know you could heal with your powers."

She didn't take her eyes off her hand, which was still warm from the magic.

"Neither did I," she mumbled.

Emma wasn't sure what surprised her more, her newfound ability, or the fact that she had been so eager to help the pirate, after he and Neal had acted like complete idiots.

Hook grabbed his sword, before the three made their way past the garden and toward the castle, birds chirping happily around them.

Once David had distanced himself a few yards in front of her, Hook came to walk beside Emma. He had a grin on his face again, and Emma inwardly acknowledged that only this captain could smile after getting slashed in the face by a friend.

"Too bad you hadn't tried that in Narnia, luv," Hook said, his eyebrows raised high. "It certainly would have come in handy on more than one occasion."

There was a feeling of pure elation on Emma's part, that Mary Margaret hadn't insisted she wear a dress to dinner that night. They had a mutual understanding, that only formal occasions would require such constricting attire.

The dining hall was quite large, and in Emma's opinion, almost unnecessarily so, the length being longer than a hockey rink. Three row tables lined the middle of the room, each one seating at least twenty people.

For the past week, though, it was only the immediately family and close friends taking up one of the overly-sized tables, its surface lined with every meat, cheese, and vegetable Emma could think of. The aroma of freshly-baked bread made her mouth water, as she grabbed the wine pitcher and filled her goblet.

Glancing down at her meal, Emma smiled softly. She knew for a fact that Granny had been working the kitchen staff overtime to get everyone fed each night, and that the grilled cheeses that often frequented her plate were a special token of kindness on her behalf.

Henry sat to her right, and chomped into a large pork rib, scooping up a heap of mashed potatoes with his other free hand. Regina, who sat on his right side, whispered something to him, before Henry slowed down with a bashful grin.

She looked over at Neal, who sat directly across from Henry, and who seemed more preoccupied with staring at her, than with eating his dinner. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, but Emma kept her face as stoic as possible, and pretended not to notice his attention.

Hook, who was across from Emma on her left, chatted with David and Mary Margret, but glanced at her every few minutes, the scar on his face now covered with a bandage. He winked at her then, which caused Emma to frown and pull her gaze back down to the plate.

Only a week here in the Enchanted Forest, and already there was drama beyond their actual crisis. The crisis that everyone kept tiptoeing around like it wasn't going to happen.

Emma remembered the vengeful look in Maleficent's eye when she had seen Regina. She remembered the sound of Zelena's voice when they had asked for The Black Wand; which was still in the hands of those sadistic sisters.

She may not understand everything that had gone on between them, but Emma was sure these bitches meant business. Whatever they were planning, it wasn't good for her or her family, and she wanted to have a plan.

Gold sat at his son's left, only a few seats down and across from Emma. Like Neal, he was staring at Emma, but with a very a peculiar look on his face, as Belle spoke softly into his ear.

"I'm going to see if Granny made that apple pie she promised," Henry mumbled over to her, before taking off for the kitchen.

Emma watched his retreating form, and then glanced over at Regina, who was cutting into her roasted pheasant. She noticed that Robin and her weren't currently having a conversation, the archer apparently in a heated debate with Leroy (or Grumpy) about bows being more important than pickaxes.

Taking another moment to reconsider, Emma bit her lip, before she slid over into Henry's chair.

Regina noticed her immediately, and stopped what she was doing to look up at Emma expectantly.

"Yes?"

Emma wasn't quite sure to begin, so she got to the point immediately.

"I need your help, Regina."

If the woman had expected her to say that, she did an amazing job of pretending otherwise. Raising her eyebrows, the queen pursed her lips and went back to her pheasant.

"Oh, and with what would you need my assistance?"

Narrowing her eyes, Emma took a deep breath and swallowed, the words catching there like she was attempting to devour construction paper.

"I need you to teach me how to use my magic more effectively."

Regina stopped, setting down her utensils, before she grabbed a sip of wine from the goblet to her right.

Emma shook her head solemnly, watching the stuffing fall out of Regina's pheasant. It wasn't easy to ask for help from anyone, let alone the woman who stole your parents away from you. But Regina was also Henry's mom, and Emma knew the queen would do whatever it took to keep him and any land he lived in, safe.

After a few seconds, she looked Emma in the eyes again, this time with an expression of understanding.

"It would be nice to have some real help against those hags. Very well, Miss Swan, we can start next week. That will give me time to prepare everything."

Regina rose from her seat, glancing over at Gold with a look of irritation, before following Henry into the kitchen, holding her goblet of wine tightly in her hand.

Finished with her dinner and completely distracted now, Emma excused herself from the table; Mary Margret giving her a concerned look, before she made her way out of the dining hall.

She made it halfway to the staircase before a voice stopped her.

"Leaving before dessert, Dearie?"

Emma stopped and turned wearily, with a look of annoyance on her face.

"Gold, I'm too tired for your games tonight."

He gave Emma a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, and stepped forward to pause only feet away from her. She waited a few seconds for him to respond, before turning to ascend the stairs.

"Ah, but I doubt you'll get much sleep with all of those dreams you've been having."

She came to a halt in mid-step, spinning around to face him, astonished.

"What? How…how the hell did you know about those?"

Emma took a moment to consider, before she narrowed her eyes, a twang of hurt pulling at her chest.

"Did Hook tell you-"

"That mangy pirate didn't need to tell me anything."

Gold leaned over on his cane, and watched her face carefully, like her features were a puzzle for him to figure out. She opened her mouth to demand an answer, but he gave Emma one without her asking.

"I know you are seeing visions, my dear, because I'm the one who gave you the ability to do so."