Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters, but in this story, they have to do whatever I tell them to ;)
There was a long moment of silence after Gold's words struck her, before Emma felt the spark of anger ignite inside of her. Instead of yelling and cursing the guy into nothingness, though, she took a deep breath, and stared him down.
"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"
Gold's lips formed into a playful smile, the corners of his mouth twitching beneath his dense scruff. It almost looked like the man wanted to laugh out loud, but he merely leaned forward on his cane, the wooden floor creaking beneath him.
"You'll have to be more specific, Dearie," he said sarcastically. "I'm a Seer, not a mind reader."
There was a flood of relief, as Emma told herself that she had simply misunderstood him. He must have seen her dreams in a vision of his own.
"So you didn't give me your powers of foresight, then?"
He frowned at her second question, as a few greasy strands of hair fell over and into his eyes. Emma decided that the man looked wearier than she had ever seen him before.
"Oh no, I did. It's just that I still possess the power myself."
Gold suddenly took a step back, as if he was using his powers of foresight to predict an outburst from her.
"It appears we have something other than abandonment in common now, Miss Swan."
Luckily for him, Gold had distanced himself far enough away from her, because Emma's blood was boiling now; and the woman gritted her teeth, as her breathing increased.
"Take it back, Gold."
He looked as if he wanted to say something clever again, but she cut him off; and to her surprise, Emma was able to keep her tone relatively calm.
"Take back the damn power. I didn't ask to be a Seer."
He matter-of-factly raised his eyebrows at her words.
"Well you didn't ask to be the Savior either, but it happened."
That was it.
Emma could feel her chest tighten, the flush of heat moving up her neck and to her ears. This was a common reaction as of late, and Emma fleetingly wondered whether she might have an issue holding her temper.
There was a familiar feeling of warmth, which spread from her palms to her fingertips; the glow catching Gold's attention, as his eyes darted town to Emma's hands. She gripped her fingers into a fist, using all of her strength to maintain control, as he continued.
"It was unintentional, you see. That day you held my scarf; the token I used to leave Storybrooke had bound you and me in that moment. I was bare to you; vulnerable, that is, and your vast level of magic was able to retain my own."
Her jaw was hardened as she stared the man down, looking for the smallest sign of deceit. Emma tried to rationalize what he had just said, but her hands were still tingling, the magic flowing through her effortlessly.
Even if he was telling the truth, this was just another example of him treating her like a freak; a source of magical experimentation for his amusement and benefit.
He seemed to notice her struggle to stay focused, watching Emma closely for any sign of intended confrontation.
"I wasn't certain the transition had taken place, but when my foresight weakened shortly after that trip, my suspicions were confirmed. You really are quite a marvel, my dear."
Her face was only inches from his now, but Gold stood his ground. As strong as her impulse was to cause this man bodily harm, the need to find answers was even stronger.
"Why am I just now having visions, then? They only started that first morning when Hook showed up in New York."
Emma hadn't thought much of them at the time. She wrote the strange dreams off as memories, similar to the ones of Regina and Mary Margaret; just something else in her psyche that hadn't been opened yet.
Still, there was something else about these particular ones, other than the fact that they tied in to one another. They felt real, like she was in the vision herself: like she knew what was happening, as it was happening.
"The visions will become more vivid, as your powers are better realized," Gold replied, like he was reading from a textbook.
"They will seem like flashes, pieces of a puzzle at first; but in time, you will learn to decipher the difference between what may come to pass, and what is certain."
She took a quick step forward without thinking, and Gold flinched back in response. Emma hoped he would say something else to set her off, so that she would have an excuse to blast him into the stone wall across the hallway.
Before she could do anything else, though, she saw a flash of green out of the corner of her eye, and stopped, backing away from Gold.
Roland was chasing after a ball, running as fast as possible, with Robin close on his heels. The father reached the four year old, who squealed with delight, as the man launched the child into the air and caught him safely in his arms.
His son was still laughing when Robin looked over at the two adults, who watched the interaction.
"Oh, I do apologize. Did we interrupt?"
Gold had an odd look of longing on his face, but brushed Robin's question off with a wave of his hand.
"Not at all, Locksley," Gold said in a monotone voice, and turned away to walk in the other direction. "We were just catching up on the weather."
Emma watched his retreat with narrowed eyes, as she saw Gold turn to her briefly, mumbling over his shoulder.
"A change in the winds, I would say."
Robin did not seem to catch the meaning, but clearly recognized he had intruded on a moment. He gave Emma an awkward smile, as Roland offered the ball to her.
She remained silent, rubbing her hand over Roland's hair, with a genuine smile.
Saved by an adorable, little kid.
Next time, the old man may not be so lucky.
She was out of her mind to do this.
Emma asking Regina for help, was like getting an annual check-up: it came with a feeling of dread, but she acknowledged the necessity of it.
It had been almost a week since Gold told Emma about her foresight. Even though she hadn't had another vision since then; with her near freak out afterward, Emma decided that this wasn't just something she should do, but something she needed to do.
If there was anyone who could help her figure out the best way to use her powers, it was Regina. After all, they were both doing this to protect Henry, and Emma knew that she could trust that.
The queen had told her to come to the gate house, located near the south entrance. Although she had been given the extended tour in between Mary Margret's nap times, Emma still got lost on occasion. She had never been to this part of the castle, and she noticed it was much darker and emptier, than the rest of the structure.
Her boots clacked along the stone floor, only a torch in her hand to guide Emma through the narrow passageways. No guards stood watch, but when she saw the red, wooden door at the end of the corridor; as Regina had told her to look out for, Emma knew she had found the right place.
She took a deep breath, placing the torch in its sconce, and knocked heartedly on the thick oak.
There was a slight murmur on the other side, before Emma pushed the heavy door open with a creak. A dark figure stood at the opposite end of the large room, but Emma knew by the flickering of candlelight, that it was her soon-to-be instructor.
Emma shivered, a cold draft hitting her immediately upon entering. She had decided to wear something breathable (a thin, white top with no sleeves) in case their lessons required exhaustive movement.
She regretted it already.
The room was much larger than Emma had anticipated; about the size of a barn, with high ceilings that reached at least sixteen feet above them. There were no cobwebs in the rafters, but Emma noticed narrow beams of light that peeked through small holes in the wooden rooftop, which gave the impression of both age and neglect.
Only a few candles in front of where Regina stood, provided light, but they allowed Emma to see the potions, kettles, and strange ingredients inside of glass jars, that covered the table's surface.
Regina seemed engaged with something, but Emma could not make out the details, since the queen's back was still turned.
"Please have a seat, Miss Swan."
Emma frowned at her formality, but assumed it had something to do with their present situation, so she went along with it, and sat down in the lone wooden chair, which stood a few feet in front of her.
Rubbing her arms absentmindedly, Emma looked around at the torches that weren't lit, and saw that there was a fireplace in the far corner, but with no fire.
Emma cleared her throat, her voice coming out somewhat rough.
"Love what you've done with the place, Regina."
The queen did not respond, but moved further to the end of the table, still working on something in front of her. Emma frowned at her silence, but remained patient, considering what it took for the both of them to be here.
Regina turned around then, her face hard and determined.
"I chose this room, because it's in the most secluded area of the castle, and allows me to maintain my focus without interruption."
Regina moved quickly, and crossed to the other side of the table. She reached for something else that Emma couldn't distinguish, and placed it on the edge closest to Emma, before making her way back over to where she sat.
Regina was dressed in stocking trousers and a tight corset, the black sleeves of her billowy top flowing with her movements, reminding Emma of a raven in flight.
Emma shivered again, goose bumps appearing on her flesh.
"Couldn't we work someplace with a little more light," she mumbled, watching a rat scatter across stone floor and into a hole in the corner.
"Or heat…"
Regina scowled then, moving toward where Emma was seated, to stand about a yard in front of her.
"This room is perfect," Regina said, waving her hand, before the fireplace erupted in flames.
"And far from prying eyes," she added in a scathing voice.
Emma took a second to consider that if Regina wanted to turn her into a croaking toad, this would be the perfect opportunity to do so. Still, she knew that time was not on their side, and that there was much at stake for both of them.
Regina crossed her arms, giving her a quick appraisal, before she spoke.
"Lesson One: Assessment. What have you already accomplished with your magic?"
Emma stared at her a moment, trying to figure out the best way to answer without sounding stupid or condescending. If she thought about it overall, most of her magic had happened with Regina. Besides what they did in Neverland, she had helped Regina to turn off the trigger in Storybrooke, and broke the magic holding all of them prisoner, when the witches interrogated Regina almost a month ago.
"Well, uh, I suppose you have seen most of it."
Regina raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.
"You're telling me that you didn't use it at all in Narnia?"
There was the stone she had moved to save Dorian, knocking the golden apple off of the tree, and the fire she fed at the campsite with Hook. Beyond that small bit in Narnia, though, most of her accomplishments had been with Regina's help or presence.
Her heart sank a bit at this realization, but Emma glanced back up at the queen, who appeared annoyed with her silence.
"I guess there a few minor instances, but that was before I got my memory back."
Regina's face was unreadable then, and Emma felt more uneasy at that, than she had been at the queen's frustration.
"And how would you describe your emotional level at that time?"
That was the last thing Emma expected her to ask, but she was ready with an answer almost immediately.
"It varies, based on the instance, but I would say: usually a high level of emotion. Why is that important?"
Regina pursed her lips, and Emma knew she had annoyed her again.
"We have talked about this before. Your emotions can impact your magic a great deal; making it stronger and more effective. I find anger and hate work best for me."
Emma narrowed her eyes. Well, that's a shocker.
Remembering her time in Narnia, she reflected that fear and anger seemed to spark her magic, but there had to be a way to use it without losing her cool.
There were a few muffled shouts coming from outside, as soldiers trained on the inner bailey, and the crackling of fire brought Emma back to her senses, before she sighed aloud.
"Ok, so I guess emotion was my trigger for the majority of instances," Emma admitted.
"So use it," Regina insisted, as she moved to stand behind her, and pulled the chair back, forcing her to stand.
The queen leaned forward and pointed toward the table, and Emma could feel her warm breath on her cheek, as Regina's lips hovered inches from her ear.
"I want you to try and turn that hairbrush into a swan."
There was a brief moment of silence and disbelief on Emma's part, before Regina took a step back, and spoke again; but in a louder voice.
"Now go."
There was no way to pull this off. The most she had ever done was destroy, move, or catch things on fire; but never turn them into living creatures.
Emma stared at the brush, thinking about a familiar feeling of warmth in her hands, and tried to force the magic from her extremities. Unfortunately in that moment, though, Emma's palms were like her present vibe: cold and empty.
She kept her frustration in check, refusing to give up just yet. Closing her eyes, Emma focused again, this time on the item in front of her along with Henry's face; the image of her son growing in her mind's eye.
There was a slight twinge of heat in her fingertips and Emma's confidence rose, as she considered the possibility of conjuring her magic without channeling hatred.
She opened her eyes with anticipation, just in time to see the brush wobble a few times, and disappear into a puff of smoke. Her heart sank, though, when Emma realized it wasn't a swan at all, but a small, white, feather duster.
She walked over and picked up the cleaning utensil, its soft feathers, tickling the palm of her hand.
Regina stomped over to her quickly, and yanked the item from Emma's grasp.
"Great, so long as you're along for the fight, we can dust the witches to death."
Emma stared at the object in frustration, the feeling of failure clouding over her again; and the queen sighed, swiping her hair back with a brief swish of her polished hand. The gold from her ring caught the candlelight, flashing Emma in the eye, and pulled her from the somber trance.
"You're thinking, when you need to be feeling. There has to be something or someone who gets under your skin."
Plenty of people who fit the bill on that one.
As annoyed as she was with everything, though, Emma didn't want to have to lose control. It was that very lack of discipline, which she was here to correct.
"I don't want to have to turn into a psycho bitch every time I use my magic," Emma argued, before she mumbled. "No offense."
For a second, she thought Regina was going to start yelling, as the queen glared at her from a few feet away. Instead, she spun around and pointed directly at Emma.
"Well it takes one to defeat one," Regina replied, as she threw the duster into the air; and it transformed into a majestic, white swan, its wings flapping, as it settled gracefully onto the table. The amount of dust that was kicked up from the swan, hit Emma in the face, making her scrunch her nose in annoyance.
Regina had made it look so easy, and although her teacher was frustrated, it didn't seem as if Regina had needed to concentrate that hard.
This was exactly what Emma had been afraid of. Everything that had happened in Storybrooke, Neverland, and Narnia had been flukes; merely an accidental reaction to an extraordinary situation.
Although she assumed that a battle with two, powerful, witches wouldn't be a relaxing scenario, it was unnerving to think that her power was unpredictable; a random occurrence with uncontrollable consequences.
"Listen," Regina began, as she moved back over to where Emma stood. "You need to find the source of your emotions and be ready to use them, without worrying about control. First, we find what makes you tick, and then we can hone in on your ability to control it."
Emma didn't want to acknowledge it, but Regina might have the right idea. Her emotions might be the key to unlocking her untapped ability; she would just need to trust that control would come when the time came.
Regina stood directly over her then, and Emma saw a passion on the other woman's face, that she hadn't seen in some time.
"And you better do it soon, because these witches aren't going to wait around for you to get focused."
Emma felt an enormous amount of pressure at those words; her confidence as damp and dreary as the walls around her.
Regina did not wait for her to respond, sauntering over to the other side of the room. She opened the door, and raised her eyebrow at Emma again.
"Come back when you're ready to put your heart into this."
Emma looked at her in mild shock, but wasted no time in her exit, walking through the archway. The queen didn't say another word, as the heavy door closed with a thud, leaving Emma in the dark corridor alone.
Well that was productive, she thought, picking up the torch, and headed toward her bedroom.
Emma had half-a-mind to skip dinner tonight. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was put on a pretend smile while her family, and the safety of their kingdom, for that matter, were at risk.
Regina wasn't wrong.
It was clear that Emma had more than one source of anger and frustration, after her near explosion at Gold's revelation. And it had been a small miracle, that she kept it together in Narnia, after finding out that Hook and Gold had deceived her (even if there was plenty of yelling on Emma's part.)
But using hate to fuel her power was simply not an option; no matter how frustrated or angry she was. Emma was willing to learn more about the power she possessed, but not at the cost of losing herself along the way.
"May I ask who has ruffled your feathers this time, luv?"
Emma came to an abrupt stop outside of the dining hall, slowly closing her eyes in exasperation. She turned around, coming face-to-face with a scar-faced, pirate.
A still very gorgeous, scar-faced, pirate.
"Hook, this is a bad time, and I'm not in mood."
She turned back and headed for her room; one that contained a very comfortable bed awaiting a much-needed, afternoon nap, before Emma heard his reply.
"I've heard that before," he mumbled to her retreating form.
There was a brief moment of silence, as she reached the opening to the hallway, before he raised his voice across the room, the sound echoing over the large space. "Come now, Emma, we need to talk."
She considered ignoring him, but his little quip regarding her mood had already struck a nerve. Emma swirled around, and stalked over the opposite other side of the long, dinner table where he stood.
"You know; you had the chance to open up to me back in Narnia," Emma huffed, keeping her hands on the back of a chair for support.
The cedar scent from the table reminded her of Henry's toy chest that he used in his playroom, back in Boston, when Emma had thought their life was real.
She waited a moment, and then continued. "But you chose not to talk then, so there isn't anything else that needs to be said now."
Hook sighed, turning his head to the side and watched her carefully, his eyes searching her for something. Emma made no indication of saying another word, daring him to invalidate her feelings on the matter.
He walked toward her slowly, then, a cautious expression on his face, before Hook reached the chair on the opposite end of the table, and leaned against it with his arm.
"Emma, I made a promise to Rumplestiltskin, that I wouldn't disclose any information regarding Narnia before we had both of the rings."
She felt the tug of betrayal pull at her chest again, before scrunching her forehead in accusation.
"A promise? Why?"
Hook raised a brow, glancing over at the window for a moment, and shook his head. "He wouldn't say: I assumed it was because he felt you wouldn't help him obtain the rings otherwise."
Emma had expected it be something like that, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Hook continued on.
"Either way, he told me that if I did not cooperate, your memories and safety would be in jeopardy."
There was a small part of her that understood Hook's reasons for what he had done, and it wasn't a secret that he wanted to keep her safe. Emma was no fool; she knew that if Hook had agreed to help Gold, that there must have been desperation on his part, and that it had not been an easy decision for him to make.
Still, too much had happened between them, for her to simply ignore this, and move on so quickly. That, and the simple fact that their lives were all in danger, and this was not her priority at the moment.
She took a breath, but kept her words just above a whisper, and even Emma couldn't deny the sadness in the tone of her voice.
"So your promise to him was more important to you, than the one you made to me in Neverland: the one where you swore to never pursue my heart by using deception?"
His look of guilt only fueled her anger more, and Emma spoke again.
"Or did you think I wouldn't regain my memory and forget about that?"
Hook snapped his head back up to hers, and moved away from the chair then, the sadness and guilt, turning to mild frustration.
"Of course not, lass. I wanted you to remember who you were more than anything. That's why I took you to that blasted waterfall in the first place."
There was a pause between them, as Emma let his confession sink in, a silence which allowed her to actually hear Hook swallow; any further words that he wanted or tried to speak, disappeared down his throat.
"You knew we were going to that waterfall. That's why you insisted on holding the compass…" Emma trailed off, her heart hammering in her chest now.
She looked back at Hook, and cut him off before he could say anything more.
"You put me through seeing my worst memories; the very worst moments of my life, on purpose?"
He shook his head wildly, pushing the chair aside, its legs scraping against the wooden floor, and Hook came to stand directly in front of her.
"I didn't bloody know it was frozen, Emma. When I travelled there as a young man, the water was fluid and warm, much like it was that next morning. It was supposed to show the viewer who they really are; their capabilities and potential, not their deepest despairs."
His calloused hand came up to grasp her arm, and he gripped it tightly in an envelope of warmth, looking directly into her eyes.
"I didn't realize you would have to go through that pain, and I would have happily taken your place at that moment, had I known."
There was a small pull at the corner of her eyes, the hot tears starting to form, but Emma held them down as she always did, while Hook waited for her to respond. She couldn't find the words to speak; knowing that he was telling the truth now, but wasn't sure if it made much of a difference.
It simply didn't change anything.
He released his grasp, but kept their proximity close, his eyes never leaving hers.
"If I could do it over, I would have told you the truth that night in the cave; before our moment of intimacy. But Emma, I don't regret taking you to that waterfall. It brought you back, luv. Its power broke the curse, and allowed you to remember your true self."
There was a flash of shock on her face that Emma supposed she hid well enough, as Hook stepped back from her, then.
All of this time, he had been under the impression that it had been the waterfall which restored her memory, rather than their kiss. He didn't know it was his love that had broken the curse.
True love.
Murmuring something about getting ready for dinner, Emma felt the hammering in her chest continue, as she backpedaled to the door and out of the archway. She half-expected him to follow her, but moved up the staircase at a fast pace, unable to look back.
Emma reached the door to her room, swinging it open, before she went inside and slammed it behind her. Leaning against the other side, she waited for her heart to slow, and let out a deep breath.
Knock, knock.
She jumped slightly, but hung her shoulders in defeat, and stepped away from the door.
That damn pirate.
"Go away!"
Another knock; this time harder.
Emma swung the door open, then, her rage boiling over.
"I said, go-"
Emma was surprised to see Ruby standing with an amused expression on her face, a dress draped over her arms.
"Rough day?"
With no energy left in her to fake a smile, Emma merely shook her head, and retreated into the bedroom, collapsing onto her mattress.
"You have no idea," she mumbled into her pillow.
Ruby laid the dress on the edge of her bed, clicking her tongue as if to scold a child. Emma looked up from her pillow to see the redhead make her way back to the doorway, her silhouette dark against the white wall.
"Your mother insisted on this simple, dinner dress for tonight, but I'm sure she'd give you a pass in this case," Ruby said soothingly, as she reached for the knob.
"And Emma-," she added, before shutting the door.
Her eyebrows rose expectantly in response, as Emma inwardly hoped there wasn't a tiara involved.
"It might be best to use a little more discretion with a certain pirate captain. I can smell him all over you."