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

Emma scoured through the thick vegetation for any sign of tracks or struggle, keeping her stance low, so not to alert anyone of her presence. Except for the occasional bird or cricket chirp, there was hardly a sound to be heard at the moment; the silence falling over her like a cloak.

Still, she felt as if the forest was alive; the ground below her seemed to breathe deeply, and the dew drops on the plants fell down their leaves, like tears on a cheek.

As the late morning sunlight shone over the barren forest floor; a sure sign of winter, Emma reflected that it was still relatively warm, considering the season, and that they had seen neither frost, nor snow during the month of December.

The crunching of twigs behind her made Emma swing her head around in anticipation. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed a broken branch on a nearby tree, and Emma stood up, peering into the distance to locate the source.

She drew her sword slowly, but stopped suddenly with a sharp intake of breath, gritting her teeth. There was a dagger at her throat; the cold steel nearly slicing into her soft skin. Emma's hands warmed immediately, and she felt her anger rise at being tricked so easily.

"Never expose yourself in the open once you have heard something suspicious," a voice whispered harshly in her ear. "It will get you killed, Emma."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she waited for Mulan to pull the blade away, and turned around to face the woman warrior, who had spent the last two days showing her how to track.

"I should have known it was a set up," Emma murmured, sheathing her sword. "That branch had clearly been broken on purpose."

Mulan nodded her head with a serious expression, her long, black hair falling into her eyes, which shined like two pieces of coal. There were patches of dirt smeared on the woman's tan face, her complexion worn by hours in the sun.

She glanced up into the sky and spoke, again, much louder this time.

"It must be nearing noon; you better get moving," Mulan stated, now with a hint of humor in her voice. "Your father doesn't strike me as a man who likes to wait."

Emma smiled at the quip, and mumbled a quick thanks to her teacher, before she mounted her horse, looking over toward the castle, where the council awaited her arrival.

And since patience was as uncommon to David as it was to her, Emma knew she had little time to waste.

"We cannot divide our forces!"

David slammed his fist on the table in front of him, making Regina and Mary Margaret flinch in surprise. Emma watched the two women exchange knowing glances, as David huffed and slumped into the chair behind him.

Over five hours had passed since the meeting started, the council only breaking once for lunch, and its dozen leaders still could not agree on a concrete plan of action. Despite their vow to provide the allied army with additional men and supplies, many of the delegates had their own ideas of how to defeat the witches.

"If we spread out our forces all over the kingdom, they will have no choice but to split up," King Midas argued, as his daughter Abigail, who Emma knew as Kathryn in Storybrooke, nodded her head beside him.

The blonde caught David's eye, and Emma noticed that Mary Margaret didn't seem to care much for it. Abigail, however, was all business as she addressed the king.

"David, if the witches have to separate, that will give us the advantage," she explained. "We know Maleficent is powerful enough to destroy an army on her own; just imagine what the two of them can do together."

Emma did her best to gauge the reactions of everyone who sat at the table. It seemed that most were apprehensive at dividing the forces, but looked nearly terrified at the idea of Maleficent and Zelena in the same place.

The delegates continued their argument back-and-forth, but Emma's focus was elsewhere.

She was relieved to see that Gold had decided to show up after he had been unaccountable for nearly two weeks. Emma considered whether it had anything to do with the golden rings and a certain black wand that so frequently monopolized her thoughts.

If they already had two of the four rings needed, (Gold claimed he could obtain the other two,) then all they had to do was focus on getting The Black Wand.

Emma scrunched her face at the irony of her inner dialogue; she had made it sound so simple.

Stealing the most powerful wand from a nearly-indestructible witch couldn't be that hard, right?

Still, it was their best option; and while the delegation of manpower, armies, and strategy was all fine and good for her parents, Emma wanted to concentrate more on her magic.

"Very well," David sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead in defeat. "We will form a main army, which will contain a majority of our soldiers and knights, a Navy, headed by Captain Jones to maintain the seas, and a few militias, which will cover the various forests throughout the kingdom."

That seemed to placate most of the council; particularly Chief Powhatan, who agreed to lead one of the militias with his band of warriors. His daughter, however, seemed to have other things on her mind.

Pocahontas had stolen more than a few glances at Hook from behind her father's shoulder during the course of the meeting; and now she stared unabashedly at the pirate, which caused Emma to grind her teeth beneath pursed lips.

Hook, who actually appeared not to notice the Indian princess' gaze, stood up as the king brought the meeting to a close.

"Alright," David concluded, helping Mary Margaret to her feet, "we will mobilze and organize our forces over the next week, and meet again before we set out."

The council members slowly filed out of the study, and Emma watched Pocahontas approach Hook privately. The pirate accepted the princess' hand, and placed a gentle kiss there, as Emma heard Pocahontas' flirtatious giggle from across the room.

A sharp sensation filled Emma's chest, and she noticed that her hands warmed at the brief interaction; balling them into fists in an attempt to calm herself.

"It's about time, Mom."

Henry's voice had startled Emma so much, she actually stumbled back in surprise, a bright blue spark shooting out and knocking a suit of armor over with a loud clang. She saw Hook turn his attention over to her, before looking back down at her son.

"Henry," Emma said, panting slightly from being startled. "You're supposed to be watching Greyson."

Her son shook his head, seemingly-unfased by her magic, and crossed his arms with a scowl on his face, reminding Emma of her father. "Mom, you know I like hanging out with my baby uncle, but this war planning is important to me."

She heard the disappointment in his voice, and Emma felt a small pang of guilt for keeping Henry from the meeting. Although she knew it was her job to ensure her son's safety, Henry had obviously made it a point to join the fight; and she couldn't help but feel proud of his sense of responsibility.

"Your absence did not go unnoticed, lad."

Hook had joined them, and Emma turned to watch Pocahontas walk out of the room with a sour look. Emma gave an exasperated sigh, and glared at the pirate, whose eyes had been set directly on her, rather than on the Indian princess.

"I know," Henry huffed, shooting Emma a scathing glance. "Someone failed to tell me about the meeting, so I was playing babysitter."

"It's for the best, Henry."

Regina and Robin had joined them, and Emma was relieved to see that the queen backed her up on the subject. As little as they seemed to agree on, Emma knew that Henry's safety was always Regina's priority.

She felt a gentle tug on her arm, and Emma rolled her eyes, hissing at the pirate. "What?"

Hook raised a brow at her, then, as if appraising a valuable object, but didn't answer her question right away. After a moment of silence, it appeared the he could no longer hold back, as a smug grin broke out onto his annoyingly-gorgeous face.

"Jealousy quite becomes you, Swan."

Emma did her best not to react to his words, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. She took a deep breath through her nose, and waved her hand casually. "Of course, you would think that."

His smirk remained, softening slightly at her reply, as Hook kept his eyes trained on hers. He looked as if he wanted to say something that would require a more private location, but never had the chance.

"Please excuse the interruption," Gold said matter-of-factly, as she and Hook turned to him. The man didn't look the least bit sorry, a tight smile on his face.

Hook appeared as if he wanted to throw Gold through one of the floor-length windows, but instead, he turned to leave.

"Hold on a minute, pirate," Gold announced, his voice echoing around them. "I believe I have something that may interest you."

Those who were still left from the council meeting stopped suddenly, a deadening silence falling over the room.

"Whatever form of deception you have up your cane, Crocodile, I want no part in it," Hook mumbled, as he moved toward the door again, but Gold stood in front of him with a determined expression.

Hook narrowed his eyes, but remained there, as if to challenge the other man without saying a word. Emma felt David shift uncomfortably beside her, his body language portraying the awkwardness reverberating from everyone else.

"You have done a great deal, not only for my son, but for his son as well," Gold said quietly, his eyes looking anywhere else but at Hook.

Even with his back to her, Emma could tell that Hook was surprised by Gold's words; but when he tried to push past him again, Gold grabbed his arm, and turned the pirate around so that the rest of the group could see both men's profiles.

"I have done nothing for your benefit, believe me," he grumbled, his face inches from Gold's. Emma saw Hook's eyes dart over to Neal, who wore a look of apprehension.

Gold opened his palms and a wooden box with iron hinges appeared there, magically.

"Nevertheless, I felt it only befitting that this be returned to its rightful owner."

He placed the box down on the table in front of them, its corners screeching against the pine surface. Emma took a moment to let his words sink in, watching the item curiously, before her eyes went wide.

"You kept his hand?"

She saw the utter shock appear on the faces of everyone in the room, except Hook, who looked more confused than anything else.

"Why would you bother keeping something as disgusting as a severed limb?" Regina appeared as if she wanted to gag, her nose scrunched up in revulsion.

Gold merely shrugged, his mouth tweaking at the corners.

"Well, I am collector of valuable objects," he replied, his eyes slightly narrowed in ridicule. "Although, I wouldn't pay a single shilling for-"

Hook was on Gold in a flash, grasping the man's coat, and pulling him close. The pirate held his hook to Gold's neck, its metal surface glimmering in the candlelight. "You wish to taunt me with your tricks?"

Emma was worried that Gold would retaliate, and use his magic to prove a point; but instead, he smiled at Hook, one which Emma thought looked more like he had just eaten a piece of rotten fruit.

"No trick, Captain," he mumbled, holding Hook's stare now, unfazed by the weapon trained on his jugular.

Raising a single brow, Hook slowly released his grip on Gold, and took a step back. He looked over at the wooden box, which still sat on the table in front of him, and stared. Emma felt the pounding of her heart, and was certain that someone could hear it amongst the uneasiness that had befallen the group.

Could this really be possible? Could Hook actually regain the use of his hand after so long? She knew magic couldn't bring people back from the dead; and despite her recent ability to heal wounds, Emma was unfamiliar with the specifics of reattaching limbs.

Glancing around one last time, Hook seemed to consider the situation, before he reached over, and lifted the lid, its old hinges creaking loudly in the quiet room.

Emma moved slowly toward him, then, breathing in the leather of his vest; and took comfort in the familiarity of it. She watched Hook's eyes grow wider with astonishment, as she peered down at the item in front of them.

Mary Margaret gasped softly behind her, and out of the cornor of her eye, she saw Henry crane his neck to get a better view. Emma didn't know what to expect, but this certainly had not been it.

Placed rather carefully atop a red velvet cloth, its fingers slightly curled inward, was a severed hand. There was no blood or scarring, and it appeared almost translucent under the chandelier's light. What surprised her most, however, was that the appendage seemed to give off a kind of glow, which grew brighter as they observed it.

She peered at Hook, awaiting a reaction, and his demeanor slowly changed from cautious, to one of longing. Emma couldn't imagine what must be going through his mind right now, but she was glad he wasn't alone.

When the pirate finally spoke again, his expression was stoic and Hook's eyes were still trained on the severed hand, rather than the man who had taken it from him many years ago.

"Why return this to me now?"

Gold seemed prepared for the question, leaning against his cane with his lips pursed. "I kept it from you for long enough; wouldn't you say?"

Emma didn't know the entire history between the men, but she knew enough to realize that Hook had good reason not to trust a sudden kindness from this man. Despite his trepidation, though, Hook kept the box in his hand, holding Gold's gaze a moment longer, before the old man nodded his head once and returned to Belle's side.

"So how do we get the hand to work?"

Emma nearly laughed out loud at her son's bluntness, but moved to stand by Hook again, as the pirate remained in his daze. Regina smiled down at Henry and squeezed his shoulder, no hint of mockery or frustration in her tone.

"Magic, of course."

"Yes, but it won't be simple," Gold explained, addressing the entire group with a serious expression. "It must be done carefully, or dire consequences could follow."

Emma stepped forward from behind Hook, unable to stay quiet any longer. "What kind of consequences?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see Neal tense beside Henry. She caught the knowing look between her parents, and Emma could tell that her obvious concern for Hook had not gone unnoticed.

But right now, she didn't care.

Gold kept his gaze on Emma, but did not reply right away. He seemed neither amused, nor surprised; but rather intrigued by her reaction. Furrowing his brow, Gold finally answered her.

"Let's just say that tying his boots with a hook will be the least of his worries."

Judging by the no nonsense way in which Gold spoke, Emma could tell that the task could prove to be a costly one. Luckily, they had at least one person who understood how this kind of magic worked.

"Then make sure you do it right," she murmured, crossing her arms.

Humor had returned to his demeanor, and Emma noticed Gold's mouth twitch with enjoyment.

"Not me, Dearie. Given that the body part in question has been separated from its owner for so long, the magic must come from both a powerful and meaningful source."

Emma saw some of the group look at one another in confusion, as Hook's stare returned back to the severed hand.

"Meaningful?"

Mary Margaret had asked before anyone else had the chance, and Emma saw Regina roll her eyes behind Henry.

"You of all people should understand what he's talking about," the queen replied, throwing an exasperated look at David and Mary Margaret.

Suddenly, Emma understood, and the words were out before she could stop them. "It needs to be someone who cares for him."

Hook finally met Emma's gaze, then, with a mixture of gratitude and consideration on his features; like a prisoner who had suddenly been let free by his captor. Gold, as per usual, seemed the only one to have expected this.

"Yes, indeed," he said, bowing his head slightly to Emma. "As we know, emotional connection is quite a powerful catalyst for magic."

She felt a slight jab of discomfort at Gold's insinuation, but decided at that moment, her pride would not keep Hook from regaining something so important. Despite his secrecy, this man had done everything in his power to bring Henry back from Neverland, found a way to get them to Storybrooke, and risked his own life for her in Narnia while they searched for the rings.

"How do I do it?"

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the group, and Emma moved closer to the box. Despite her trepidation and uncertainty, somehow she knew that this was right.

"You remember what I told you in my shop," Gold responded quietly. It wasn't a question, and Emma allowed his previous statement to awaken in her mind.

"Conjuring magic isn't an intellectual endeavor, Miss Swan; it's emotion. Ask yourself, why am I doing this? Who am I protecting?"

Regina had been right about Emma's powers and the importance of feeling the magic, but hate and anger wouldn't be of any help to her now.

Despite her lack of confidence in whether it would work, however, Emma moved over to the table and took the smooth, wooden box in her hand, nodding to Hook that she was ready.

The pirate immediately shook off his overcoat, before he unbuttoned his vest and shirt. Emma felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and she averted her eyes a moment, glancing down at the marble floor below her.

An image appeared in Emma's mind of his rippled muscles hovering over her, glistening from the sheen of sweat that came from hours of passion between them.

As he finished removing the tunic, Emma saw the harness that hold his hook in place, and she felt embarrassed having blushed so easily; and understood now, that he had to remove his hook, before they could continue.

The pirate had noticed Emma's physical reaction and winked at her, as he unbuckled the brace. Doing her best to ignore his flirting, Emma reached down into the box, and slowly pulled out the hand with the red, velvet cloth.

It should have scared her, or even made Emma feel uneasy, but the severed limb had felt as natural in her hand as his good one had. She was surprised to find that it wasn't cold or stiff, but glowed slightly as it had before, and actually warmed at her touch. Emma held the hand over Hook's stump, and placed the cloth over it to give him more privacy. He seemed to understand, and gave Emma a small smile of appreciation at the gesture.

She closed her eyes and began to focus, when David spoke out.

"This won't be dangerous for Emma, will it?"

The king had moved closer to where they both stood, with Mary Margaret directly beside him. She noticed the tension and concern in her parents' demeanor, but Gold merely waved the question off. "Not if she does it correctly."

That seemed to jolt Hook from his daze, and he squeezed Emma's free hand with his good one, making eye contact with her once again.

"It's alright, luv. You don't need to do this," he whispered to her firmly, before flashing Emma a grin. "Besides, I've been told the hook rather suits me quite nicely."

His humor was back for the moment, but Emma knew that this was just another attempt to protect her; and she could now see that the returned use of his hand meant a great deal to him. She maintained his gaze, as Hook's calloused fingers rubbed lazy circles into the palm of her free hand.

"No," Emma replied with certainty. "I want to do this."

Telling by his reaction, her words had touched him, but Emma could feel the self doubt settle in.

She heard her own heart thumping like a drum in her chest, and as they stood only a foot apart, Emma smelled the muskiness of his sweat; the intensity of the moment, appearing in the form of perspiration over Hook's brow.

"I trust you, Emma."

Four words, and suddenly it made sense.

This was what she had tried to explain to Regina atop the tower that night in the storm. This was the form of emotion that would bring her powers to their truest potential; not hate, or anger, or even vengeance.

She closed her eyes and focused on every part of him, as her fingertips began to tingle. Emma saw the beautiful features of his face appear in her mind, and the familiar heat grow in her stomach. Her mind moved, then, to his chest, his arms, and hand; its owner, the one who had brought her back from oblivion that night in the cave, and showed her what it meant to trust and to forgive.

Without warning, her hands were ablaze with blue fire, and Emma's eyes shot open when she heard Hook's soft gasp. For a moment, Emma feared she had burned him or worse, but realized immediately that the severed hand now glowed much brighter than before, as it shined through the red cloth like a flash light.

Then, without warning, the glow disappeared, and the two of them were no longer in the castle.

The pair walked side by side in a familiar garden, the air warm and thick with moisture, from a previous night of spring rain.

Emma turned to him, a smile on her face, and glanced down at his left hand, clasped firmly in her own. She carried their food in the other, and when he leaned down to kiss her, a single apple fell out of the basket, and to the ground at their feet.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but no words come out; a shrill scream piercing through the morning air.

A bright flash filled the room, and Emma heard Mary Margaret's shout from behind her. Despite the fact that the vision had broken her concentration, Emma still faced Hook, who now stared down at the red cloth between them. She regained her composure, and Emma glanced back at her parents to indicate that she was fine. A slight queasiness hit her, but she turned to see that Hook wore an expression of astonishment, rather than one of pain.

Emma carefully pulled off the cloth, revealing a perfectly conjoined hand to Hook's left wrist. No one said anything for nearly a full minute, as they all watched Hook with trepidation, before she finally broke the silence.

"How does it feel?"

He flexed his fingers into a fist, which all appeared flesh-like in color, and then held his hand out before him, as if it was a marvel to behold.

"It's amazing, Emma," the pirate replied, his outstretched hand trembling slightly. "You're amazing."

She couldn't help but smile genuinely at him then, a relief flooding over her chest, as Hook returned her smile with one of his own.

"Ahem."

Emma had forgotten that they had an audience, but saw that most of the group now made their way quietly out of the room, as Henry threw her a toothy grin over his shoulder. She waved bashfully at her son, and heard Mary Margaret's harsh whisper to her right.

"Come on, David," she hissed at her husband, who now stood with his arms crossed, wearing a stern expression.

Emma held her breath for a moment, slightly apprehensive; but David suddenly gave Hook a tight-lipped smile, and raised his eyebrows, as if having a silent conversation with the pirate. Hook bowed his head slightly at both of her parents, and Mary Margaret smiled back, pulling her husband backwards.

The queen made eye contact with her daughter briefly, before she and David moved through the door frame and out of sight.

Now alone, Hook shifted his gaze up to hers, and Emma frowned with concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She could see that there were tears in his endlessly blue eyes, and Emma's breath caught at the awe in his voice. "I have wanted to do this since the very first moment I laid eyes on you," he whispered.

Before she could respond, both of his warm hands were on either side of her face; pure adoration written on his features, as his gaze held her own. She never realized how a simple gesture could be so taken for granted; but now understood how much this must mean to him now.

"Thank you, Emma."

She couldn't help but remember a similar moment with Graham, in what felt like another lifetime ago, but was surprised to find that the fleeting memory did not bring on the usual feeling of sadness or regret. Instead, Emma felt empowered and without fear, like she was in the right place, and that things were playing out the way they were meant to.

Hook's hands remained on her face, their foreheads nearly touching, and she didn't stop him as he leaned in slowly. The kiss was soft, but passionate, and the pirate's wet mouth covered Emma's, as his right hand grasped the back of her head; his fingers entwining into her blonde curls. She inhaled through her nose, and his peppery scent filled Emma's senses blissfully, as her moan was muffled by his delicious tongue, that darted in and out between their swollen lips.

His deep-throated groan vibrated under her hand, which still tingled from her magic, as it rested over the exposed skin of his chest. He slowed their pace, and pulled them apart slightly, as she looked back into his eyes, now dark with a familiar color of desire.

As she slowly regained her breath, still wrapped up in his embrace, Emma looked out the large window at the setting sun on the horizon, and sighed in contentment.

"Does this mean you forgive me, Darling?"

Emma narrowed her eyes at the pirate with mock annoyance, lifting her soft hand to graze the rough stubble on his jaw.

"This means I have no choice but to start calling you Killian now," Emma whispered; before she let the man, who chuckled softly at her quip, pull her close into his warm embrace.