Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

It had been sometime after the witch struck down Glinda and ripped the wand out of her hands that Hook knew he was in trouble. The plan had been simple enough; try to isolate the witch to allow Emma and the Queen to defeat her with their magic. Of course plans never do go accordingly and this one had failed spectacularly.

Apart from the screeching razor-jawed monkeys there was also a contingent of guards with pikes, their faces sporting the same green-tinge as the witch. They had immediately surrounded her and if their blank faces were any indication of their resolve, it wouldn't be easy to break through their ranks. If that weren't enough the witch had cast some sort of spell that had blanketed the courtyard in a cloying black fog. It had made their limbs heavy and shortened their breath. But more importantly it had hidden the witch and her minions and no spell in the Queen's arsenal was enough to banish it from their sight.

Hook had kept a close eye on Emma, knowing her to be reckless with her own person. There was no chance he was going to risk losing her again. The year apart had nearly ruined him both in body and spirit. And while he knew she would do anything for her family, he knew he would do anything for her. Which is why he was her second shadow, now and forever. No matter the looks she gave him.

That was why he had followed her into the fray when she had charged after her father. With his sword at the ready Hook fought off the screeching harridans that descended upon them. One landed on his arm, yanking and scratching and grabbing, his hook useless in the face of such an assault. But it did make a glorious shriek when he stabbed at it with his sword. Unfortunately this only served to anger the creature. It pulled so hard on his arm he thought he would it would be torn off. Instead he felt the most excruciating sudden pain, his arm suddenly limp and tingling.

But Emma only had eyes for the witch. With single-minded purpose she fought towards the line of guards. But she found she couldn't close ranks with them because of their long pikes. It was only when Robin's arrows began to rain down on them that the line broke. And with Regina trailing close behind, throwing fireballs to protect their flank, Emma made to dive between their lines with Hook following close after. But of course things were never that simple. Emma was rebuffed at the line and the staff of a pike whipped across Hook's torso with a loud crack. He grunted and fell to his knees, breath knocked from his body. In fact he was quite sure a few ribs were broken, having experienced that particular pain previously. But before he could stand he found himself being hauled behind the guard line and thrown at the feet of the witch.

She proceeded to bodily slam him into the nearest wall hard enough to make him drop his sword, her green hand wrapping around his throat. A sharp burst of pain sprang from his shoulder, still dislocated, leaving his hook hanging useless at his side. He tried to control himself but every deep breath was an agony and a half. As he panted against the wall he looked past the witch's shoulder at the battle behind her. A wall of guards separated him from Emma who was looking directly at him, a pained expression on her face. She was fighting her hardest to get to him, he could see that much, her sword slashing at the closest guards. Past her everything was rather blurry thanks to the fog.

"What will she do if I maim you pirate?"

Her voice was firm and demanding but he refused to look at her. He wasn't going to take the bait. He wouldn't help her destroy Emma. Not even if it cost him his life.

He brought his hand up to try and dislodge her grip, pointless as it was. She clenched her fingers, nails piercing his skin. He cried out as blood ran down his neck. But still he looked to Emma. If only his eyes could protect her as well as his sword had.

"It doesn't do to lie to me. I know what you are to her, even if you don't." She snarled at him.

His breath caught at that, a slight juddering of his heart. And there was no way the witch hadn't noticed. But how could she know what he meant to Emma? Even he wasn't quite sure where he stood. At times she gave him that sly smile that she didn't give to anyone else. From across a room she'd find him and stare into his soul with those eyes. And he felt whole and good and fine. Other times she scowled as if she wanted him to disappear into the ground. And half the time he couldn't tell what he'd done to incur such wrath. She was at some times the most aggravating creature. But she was always his Swan. No matter the occasion. Even now, in the most dire of circumstances. And on some level she knew that he was hers. Perhaps that's why she was trying so damnably hard to reach him.

While his mind was on Emma, the witch leaned in close and it was all he could do not to flinch. She smelled of smoke and charcoal and ashes making his eyes water.

"Shall I make you watch when I kill her?"

He wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't. Because that's what she wanted. She wanted a reaction and by gods he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. When he refused to speak she clenched her fingers around his neck and pulled out Glinda's wand, pointing it directly at him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself just one moment. One moment to remember everything before this. The dark places he had gone to and all the good that had come into his life because of that blonde goddess standing not 20 feet from him. And he wasn't going to get to say goodbye. That was the hardest part. He was never going to get to tell her what she meant to him. How she made him feel. In that brief moment he felt a surge of despair not unlike when Liam had died, when Milah had died. And now he was going to die. How ironic. He would have laughed if he'd had the breath but instead chose to look for Emma. After all if it was over, he wanted to burn her visage into his brain for now and always.

"Oh you are foolish." The witch laughed long and hard, tossing back her head. "I cannot do magic with this. That doesn't keep it from having other uses however."

She raised the wand and smashed it into the wall beside him, causing blue sparks to land in his hair, singing his scalp. The sound of metal on stone made a deep low ringing that echoed throughout the courtyard.

That's when she drove the broken shard into his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Hook could see it coming. He saw her hold the broken wand up and bring it down, driving it into his heart. It happened in a less than a moment but seemed to go on forever. And he didn't even have breath in his body to cry out. In fact, his lungs were burning. But that was soon replaced by the sharp bite of foreign metal, followed by a warmth he could only guess was blood. The ache in his shoulder was gone though. In fact, he didn't feel much of anything. He didn't even notice the witch had released her hold on him until he fell to the ground. That's when he lost sight of Emma.

The monkeys had descended like a plague and the spaces they failed to physically occupy in the courtyard were filled with their screeches. One had even tried to land on David, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling hard enough for him to yell in rage. He slashed blindly at the primate, only managing to drive it away, a tuft of his hair in its hand. What he wouldn't give for another archer to pick off the offending creatures. But his wife was back on the ship. They had both agreed that in her condition it wouldn't be safe to take part in the battle. But he knew she was afraid and frustrated. She would be out of danger while her family would be risking their lives. When they'd said their goodbyes, leaving Grumpy in charge of defending the ship, he hadn't said anything when he'd spied Mary-Margaret and Robin in deep discussion, their heads bent together, their voices low. There was no doubt in his mind they were discussing the upcoming battle. But it was for the best. He would have been too preoccupied with her safety to be of any use to Emma or Regina. And being a man down, they were going to need all the help they could get.

At first Emma hadn't noticed he wasn't beside her. She'd seen him fighting off a guard but had lost sight when a pair of monkeys had dive-bombed her. It was only when she looked for the witch that she spotted him. He was up against a wall, Zelena's hand around his throat. Emma felt her gut clench, a sharp burst of adrenaline making her shiver. Where was his sword? Why wasn't he fighting back? And she could only stare as the witch stabbed him, his face contorted in pain. He hadn't cried out and Emma felt like she couldn't breathe. She watched as the witch released him, his body collapsing to the ground. Slowly his arm moved across his body to press over the wound in an attempt to stem the blood.

In that moment Emma felt her heart pounding, felt her grip on her sword tighten, her breath catch in her throat. _Just hold on._ She slashed at the nearest guard, moving inside the reach of his pike to stab at the vulnerable spot under his arm. He grunted, the point of her blade slicked in a green ichor. _First blood to me then._ But despite taking a wound the guard was unphased. His blank expression never changing, his movements nothing if not robotically rehearsed.

Emma wasn't the only one having trouble with the witch's minions though. Regina was continuing her assault on the flying rats, launching fireball after fireball. But she could feel her pace slowing. Sweat was starting to trickle down from her temples and her arm was getting tired. And then after a volley against one of the beasts that had been making faces at her, she missed. It was bound to happen eventually but this monkey was closer than most and when it saw her busy conjuring, it made a point of directing its razor sharp teeth and claws in her direction. Before it could strike though it was knocked from the sky, an arrow protruding from its neck as it hit the ground, tongue lolling from its mouth. Knowing if she turned to acknowledge him that she'd have to thank him, Regina pretended not to notice Robin's kill and instead focused on the next pest in front of her.

The smoke in the courtyard was finally starting to clear, allowing all the players to see the chaos that surrounded them. Dead monkeys littered the ground. Others with broken wings had resorted to lashing out with their claws, keeping David plenty busy protecting Regina's flank while she blasted them from the sky. And Emma wasn't having any luck breaking through the guard line, despite having drawn blood from several of them. In fact she was sure she'd sliced a few tendons in the knee of one who had shifted all his weight to his other leg. She made a furtive glance in the witch's direction to make sure she hadn't moved. When she noticed Hook's hand had dropped back to his side she tried not to react.

Zelena did though. She gave a nonchalant kick to his body with her heeled boot. Satisfied by the lack of response she leaned down and ripped the broken wand out of his chest, throwing the jagged metal spike down the stairs. A slow pool of blood was creeping out from under his coat, following the crevices in the stone tiles.

Filled with rage Emma could feel the air shimmer around her. And she poured on all her frustration and exhaustion and anger and fear until unbidden and uncontrolled, her magic burst out of her like a bomb. Guards and monkeys alike were blown off their feet. David was tripped up, landing on top of a pair of wings. Regina was knocked into a wall, her head smacking against stone. She felt blood on her ear, dripping down her neck as she collapsed.

Seeing her chance Emma burst through the scattered line of guards, grim determination lining her face. But before she could charge, Zelena looked up at her, a cold smile playing over her face. The witch blew Emma a kiss before sweeping her cape over Hook's body, the two of them disappearing in a spiral of black smoke. Emma guessed at what she would find but couldn't help charging into the foul smog anyway. Coughing and choking she wildly swung her sword, hoping to hit something, anything. When she didn't she dropped to the ground, tossing aside her weapon and blindly felt around with her hands.

"Hook!"

She called out, hoping against hope that she would reach out and touch that stupid leather duster of his. _Please. Please let him be here._ She stopped when her fingers dragged into liquid. Pulling back she knew without looking what it was and wiped her hand on her pants, not willing to accept anything until she could see. Until she was sure. Until…

"Emma!"

She could hear a distant voice calling her name but she ignored it. She could feel the quick press of hot tears just waiting to spill out. She could feel choking sobs in the back of her throat. Instead she laid her hand on the cold stone of the courtyard. A dusting of ash and a pool of blood were all that remained. Zelena hadn't even left them a body. The air smelled of smoke and was starting to burn her eyes. Blinking rapidly she could hear David in the distance yelling something.

"Emma!"

She looked over to him, trying her best to regain her composure. She wasn't able to manage a smile but he said nothing. Instead he fought his way over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"We have to go Emma."

She frowned, still staring at the ground. She couldn't move. She didn't want to. That would make all of this real. She reached out for her sword, needing something solid to hang onto, something she could squeeze until all the blood had left her hand. Until her knuckles were white and her fingers were as numb as her heart.

"Robin saw another squadron coming through the drawbridge.

"They'll be here any minute."

There was an undertone of fear in his voice that he made no effort to cover up. They had won the day but with Hook gone and Regina out of commission they had no hope of standing up to another wave, let alone storming the castle. Their only recourse was to retreat back to the ship and regroup.

Emma glanced over to Regina who had her arm wrapped over Robin's shoulder and she didn't look well. The queen was pale and the usual snarky expression that graced her face had been replaced with a pained one. The archer was trying to appear positive but every few moments he was looking over at her, still wary that she'd accepted his help without a word. The fact that she could barely keep on her feet probably had something to do with it but she was doing her best to appear in charge.

Slowly they filed out of the courtyard, picking their way through the bodies and avoiding the ones who were simply wounded. One monkey even took a swipe at them, cradling a broken arm against its body. Emma made to follow, retreating along with the rest of the group, David practically pulling her along. But when she turned to look back at the last place she had seen him, she paused. Still running off of adrenaline and the rush of a fight, she could still feel that clench in her gut. Without a word she sprinted back towards the stairs and bent down to pick up the broken wand where it had been thrown. She was careful to avoid touching the blood and ran out after her father, doing her best to swallow the bile that was rising in her throat.

Slowly but surely they moved away from the castle, Regina doing her best to keep up but as the group approached the ridge above the bay they saw a column of smoke spiralling up into the clouds. Emma didn't wait for anyone and instead ran towards the ship, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn't dare think what she would find, only desperately hoping there was another explanation.

"No." She breathed out, the others close behind her.

Down below them the ship was on fire, a raging banner of flames burning at the stern. A group of monkeys and guards had boarded the vessel and were now pressing towards the small contingent who had been forced onto the quarterdeck. The dwarves had surrounded Mary-Margaret who had her bow raised to the closest guard. She only had a half dozen arrows left in her quiver and was determined to make every shot count. Despite the fact that guards were dropping like flies, the small contingent from Storybrooke were being steadiliy being pressed back towards the flames.


	3. Chapter 3

Zelena reappeared back in the castle in a poof of smoke, her face a mask of fury as she stalked up to her throne. Things had not gone as planned. General Halden who had been directing the battle from one of the windows, stepped back from his spyglass. He did his best to ignore the body she'd brought back with her. What the witch did was her own business and he knew all too well what happened when you asked questions. After all he'd been promoted when General Lorcan had deigned to ask why Zelena had let her sister enter the realm in the first place. His prying had earned him a long fall off the balcony.

"What news Halden?"

He bowed before her to report that the invaders had fled back to their ship where a contingent of guards and monkeys would be waiting for them.

"It's a waste of resources but at least they'll take their time in returning."

Zelena stood and walked towards the window facing the gates. She stared out towards the plume of black smoke issuing from over the hill. The fool hadn't sent enough men to stop them at the docks. Meaning those usurpers would escape. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before punching a hole in the window, jagged shards falling to the courtyard below, her hand covered in cuts.

Absently she glanced over at the body in the middle of the room. She had originally planned to kill him, eliminating their pathetic little group one after another. But when she saw how the Saviour had reacted when she'd stabbed him, a new plan had started to form in her mind. Perhaps this wasn't a total loss.

"Fetch the Tinker, Halden."

A strange request in his eyes, but Halden proved far smarter than his predecessors and stayed quiet. He bowed and quickly left the room in search of the inventor. What the witch wanted with him he didn't care. His life was more important than foolish questions he had no business asking.

Zelena stood looking out the window at the mess in the courtyard below. A contingent of guards were dragging bodies towards a bonfire, a greasy curl of smoke issued from the crisp bodies of dead monkeys, competing with the pillar of smoke coming from the docks. Her blood dripped down her hand onto the stone floor, disappearing as wisps of steam upon impact. They would doubtless be back. Perhaps this time she would take the mother's baby. That would surely break them. Her thoughts wandered towards all of the horrible plans she had in store for those who dared to face her. She was interrupted by General Halden clearing his throat. At least the man knew when to shut his mouth. Turning she stared down at the Tinker. He was tall but the glasses and dusty leather apron somewhat lessened any intimidation his height may have caused.

"Can you repair him?" She gestured over to the body with her bloodied hand.

The Tinker, unmoved by all this nonsense that had interrupted his experiments, walked over to the pile of leather on the carpet, a slight limp in his gait. He adjusted his glasses and frowned, staring down at the body.

"Madame I am not a physician." A fact he'd had to remind her of more than once. Clearly the man was still alive; the short shallow gasps were evidence of that. But he was leaking all over the floor and his skin had a clammy sheen to it, his face a mask of pain. "And he appears to be in some distress. Are you not sufficiently capable of fixing him yourself?"

She waved her hand at that. "My power lies not in healing. I wouldn't waste breath learning those spells. They serve no purpose."

"Yes I'm quite aware." He muttered, ignoring her glare. She might have cowed everyone else in this castle but he was not so easily unnerved. She needed him. Soldiers of flesh were easily destroyed. Her new army would be anything but weak and for that she would tolerate his mild contempt. But what she asked was impossible. He did not 'repair' the organic. It was too imprecise, too mutable a material. Human bodies were structures that did not lend themselves to pressure.

"Can you do it or not!" Always dithering, the man never gave a straight answer. It was not dissimilar to extracting the truth from a liar.

The Tinker leaned down and stuck a finger into the hole the man was leaking out of. A sharp cry of pain echoed through the room. The man spasmed beneath him, eyelids fluttering.

"His heart is punctured. He may not live." The Tinker wiped his hand on his apron. Her summons were a waste of her own time but he wasn't foolish enough to voice obvious facts.

"Then you will make him a new heart." She grinned as she saw his eyes meet hers and light up. The man enjoyed a challenge. So let him try. He was more likely to succeed when she made things difficult and even if he did not, it was no great loss. She would find another way to destroy them.

The Tinker chewed on his lip. He'd never had reason to marry the mechanical with flesh and blood before. Mostly because it was unlikely to work. And this man on the floor below him was not an ideal candidate. Likely half dead already, if not mostly dead. But he was never one to back down, especially when his not inconsiderable mind was put to the test.

"I make no promises as to a favourable outcome but I will do what i can." He bowed and turned to leave.

"Do try not to kill him." She motioned towards the guards on either side of the main doors. They picked up the body and dragged it towards the door, following after the Tinker, leaving a puddle of blood behind. Zelena turned back to the window and contemplated her next move. She glanced down at her hand, blood ran in lines over her knuckles as she made a fist, the red standing out in contrast to her skin. Those fools would return. And when they did she would be ready.

Somewhere in the dark, Hook could hear what sounded like the wind moaning. It surrounded him, digging into his skin. Its tendrils burrowed into his bones and ripped him apart, scattering him like so much sand in a storm. And he was so cold. As if ice had taken hold of his brain, his limbs in a constant state of shiver, frost running up his spine. He descended into himself as a hole opened up in his chest. And slowly as a frozen river, he gradually fell away, an ever-growing pressure pushing him down. His descent into the dark, threatening to shatter all that he knew, all that he was.

The Tinker apparently was the only one to notice a change in the man's breathing pattern as they continued towards his workshop. For the moment the Tinker ignored him. Soon enough he'd be at work again. Best to relax until the moment came.

The small contingent ascended a staircase until they reached a small door with a large lock. The Tinker fluidly pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it, allowing the guards to enter his abode, hoping they would keep their prying eyes from peeping around too much.

They unceremoniously dumped the man on his workbench and left but not without glancing around at the contraptions hanging from the ceiling and scattered about on the floor. Wood, leather and metal in varying states of assembly took up the majority of space, leaving little room to manoeuver. The Tinker silently cursed the guards as they departed, with only the comforting smells of tannin and wood smoke to comfort him. He quickly washed his hands in a basin that he'd always considered overlarge and turned to the task at hand.

Digging through a pile of odds and ends he came up with a handful of leather straps. It wouldn't do to have the man moving about while he was digging through his insides. He whistled while he strapped his project down, keeping a careful eye on him coming to. Considering how best to approach replacing a heart without killing him, he noticed the man was bleeding onto his floor, drip by drip. The Tinker frowned in disgust. Another reason he preferred the inorganic. Closing his eyes he did his best to imagine it was oil. But he would have to suffer cleaning up the mess later, a task he did not relish even thinking of. The maids couldn't be trusted to clean anything and he had no doubt that everyone in the castle functioned as a spy in some capacity for Zelena. The longer he was able to keep his inventions and plans from prying eyes, the more valuable he would be. And he planned on being as valuable as possible as it usually contributed to the likelihood of avoiding death at the witch's hands.

Leaning down towards the man whose breathing had slowed considerably, he poked at the hole in his chest again, wondering how it had come about. The man involuntarily flinched.

"Oh. I suppose that hurt." The Tinker frowned. He was going to need something to firmly knock the man out. Wouldn't do for him to wake in the midst of things. He pulled open a drawer and fumbled around for a minute, searching amongst a collection of bottles and jars until he came upon a black concoction. Zelena had provided it after his accident when he couldn't sleep. The constant pain in his leg had left him an exhausted insomniac, wandering the halls of the castle, too tired to work and too antsy to stay still. It had dulled all his senses to beyond what he expected possible. But she had warned him against overindulging. Consuming too much would put him to sleep permanently. Unaware of how much he'd need to keep the man under he merely guessed and tipped an amount down his throat. Sputtering and coughing, it didn't go down easy, leaving the Tinker to hold his hand over the man's mouth to ensure he swallowed every last drop.

He waited several minutes for it to take and saw his breathing even out. Watched the muscles relax, the tenseness leave the shoulders, the pain leave his face. And when he was sure he picked up his instruments, laying them out in order, all perfectly parallel to one another.

"Let us begin shall we?" He held up his bone blade and stared down at the man in leather. He had no blueprint for where to begin or how to proceed, a thought that was both terrifying and exhilarating. But there was only forward and he wasn't about to admit failure before testing himself against the unknown.

And so, for the second time in as many hours, a sharp implement was shoved into Hook's chest.


	4. Chapter 4

"Snow!"

David didn't hesitate before running down the hill towards the burning vessel. His wife was in danger, his child was in danger. There was no time to consider risk. He pulled out his sword and stumbled onto the beach, feet slipping in the sand as he struggled to gain traction. His heart pounding, he ran onto the docks, feet beating out an even rhythm on the rough-hewn boards. The gang plank had been removed, leaving climbing up the side as the only option of boarding the vessel. He sheathed his sword and stared up at the wooden hull, looking for handholds. A rush of noise behind him found Emma standing at his side, the same look of determination on her face as they began to scale the ship. All the while above them was the constant clash of metal on metal, the cries of the injured and while he was climbing all David could think was _let her be alright._

Upon reaching the top of the quarter deck, he dove towards the nearest group of guards that were attempting to set another fire that would further trap Snow and the dwarves from pushing forward to drive off the guards.

"David!" Snow shot down a guard, half happy, half terrified that her husband had arrived. They had been set upon not long after everyone else had disappeared over the ridge. A group of guards and monkeys had appeared further down the shore, making for the ship. Snow knew the smart move would have been to cast off and sail out to deep water, waiting until the threat had passed to dock again. But she couldn't risk that the guards would leave to attack David and the others. They needed to be given their best chance if they wanted to defeat Zelena and she was determined to give it to them. If that involved serving as a distraction to some of the witch's army, then so be it.

They successfully defended the ship in the beginning. But the monkeys had thrown bottles that burst into flame when they hit the ship. And so they were forced to retreat, giving up ground inch by inch until they found themselves caught between fire and the guards. The monkeys harassed them, baring their teeth and trying to drag them overboard. The situation had been dire. But now, even with less than half a dozen arrows left she made every one count as her husband and daughter fought their way through Zelena's forces.

"Just hold on!" David cut down the nearest guard as he advanced towards his wife and the dwarves. He knew he was slowing down. The battle in the courtyard was catching up to him. Every muscle was sore and he was sure his back had been nicked because it burned something fierce. The fires weren't helping. He was drenched in sweat and it felt like the heat was sapping his strength but there was no stopping him. He would fight until his family was safe. He glanced over to his daughter to find Emma fighting a monkey who kept leaping away from her, onto the mast, the rigging, the railing, all the while screeching at her, baring its teeth, gnashing away.

Back on shore Robin looked on, frustrated at his inability to help. He watched as his friends got dangerously close to the numerous fires burning on deck.

"You…should go help." Regina croaked out, her pallid face betraying her.

He wasn't sure what had happened but she was in pain. And by the way she kept holding her side he was sure it was broken ribs. In better circumstances he would have been happy that she was so close at hand, his arm around her waist. But every step had seemed like an agony to her, despite how she tried to keep up with the others, how she tried to stay silent. She had alternated between swearing under her breath and groaning in pain as they escaped the castle.

"Then who will protect you milady when Zelena's forces choose to retreat?" It sounded more strained than he would have hoped but there was little he could do other than try and keep the conversation light.

Normally Regina would have rolled her eyes but she wasn't able to do much of anything at the moment.

"Then just…put me down and…shoot them!" She gritted out, every breath as shallow as she could make it.

Robin carefully set her down against the beginning of the ridge, moving to stand in front of her, lest any of the guards try and attack them. He pulled his bow off his back, notched an arrow and aimed, hitting his mark every time, taking his anger and frustration out on the guards and monkeys. Speed was on his mind. Speed and efficiency. He wasn't sure if this force had been sent to slow them down but he did know that they needed to leave this place and soon. There was no way of knowing if Zelena had sent any forces after them but it would be the smart thing to do and he made sure to never underestimate his opponents when it came to fighting.

The last of the guards were dispatched but several monkeys, crawling out from below decks managed to fly off as both Snow and Robin were stuck with empty quivers. David pushed his way through the dwarves, patting the on the shoulders as he made his way to his wife, catching her up in his arms, pulling her away from the fire behind them. He hugged her close, careful of their child and kissed her.

"Are you alright?" Snow nodded, a protective hand coming up over her belly.

"We both are." David's hand came up to join hers and they just stood for a moment, grateful that things had turned in their favour.

"What happened?" Her eyes searched his as concern washed over her face. She had not expected to see him again so soon. Clearly something had gone wrong.

"We lost." David hung his head. "We were no match for her. We barely escaped with our lives."

Snow looked over to Emma who, along with the dwarves were putting out the various fires on deck with sea water.

"I'm just glad you're alright." She stroked his cheek and he smiled. The danger was past. Now they had to regroup.

Grumpy let down the gangplank as Robin and Regina slowly made their way along the dock and onto the ship. He gingerly set her down on a crate of supplies before moving off to help the dwarves. The fire damage appeared mostly to be contained to the main deck and the quarter deck. There was smoke below decks but with a good airing out it should be safe. Doc was busy attending to the various cuts and bruises the dwarves had incurred in the fight. Sleepy had a particularly nasty gash on his forehead.

"We need to leave. Now." David looked down at everyone from the quarter deck. "Zelena knows we're here. It's not safe."

"I can get us away from the docks and out into open water." Emma offered.

"Emma why would you… Wait, where's Hook?" Snow looked at the broken group in front of her but nowhere did she see the leather-clad pirate. She noticed Regina was looking particularly ragged, not her usual snappy self. Apparently they hadn't just lost the battle. They'd been badly defeated.

"He was injured. Zelena took him." Emma answered quickly when no one else spoke up. She didn't want to talk about it.

"Injured how?"

"She… stabbed him." The image of the wand in his chest flashed across her memory like a fresh wound, bright and painful.

"Then he's…as good as dead." Regina muttered.

"He's not dead!" Emma turned to yell at her. _He can't be._

She ignored the look her mother was giving her and set about running through everything Hook had taught her in terms of sailing. The voyage to Neverland had been quite enlightening as to how much work was put into sailing a ship. But it was all half-remembered steps that she didn't have the muscle memory for. She only wished she didn't feel so burned out otherwise she would have used her magic to sail them away from this place.

The entire time they were making their escape though, she caught looks of concern directed at her. Grumpy was sticking close and Snow's face gave everything away. David asked if she wanted to take a break as she wiped away sweat but she waved him off. Her arms were aching but anything was better than standing still. She'd rather have something to do than time to think. Besides it was rather satisfying to sail away from the castle. Unfortunately this meant everyone else relaxed and felt the need to comfort her, whether by offering her a swig from Robin's flask or Sneezy asking if he could sharpen her sword for her. By the time Bashful brought her a blanket with a pitying look on his face she'd had enough. Stalking away she fled below decks to find some peace and quiet, only to find her way to his quarters.

She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and instead listened to the waves hitting the side of the boat outside the window. Her parents were always ones to put faith in hope above all else, that somehow things would work out. But deep down she felt a cold dread growing. What if he really was dead? Zelena hadn't the decency to leave them a body so there was always a chance. But experience told her only a fool would take those odds. And even if he was alive where would they look? There was no guarantee that Zelena was still even in the castle and they had no means by which to launch another attack.

She hesitated before walking inside. It felt like an invasion of privacy, being here without his permission. But it was still and quiet. The one place on the ship she knew she could be alone. The one place she didn't have to worry about concerned faces staring at her, wondering when she was going to break. Here she didn't have to pretend to be okay. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood, sinking to the floor. The creak of the ship as it moved through the water was a comfort. A warm balm to the gaping hole that was left in her life. But it was of little consequence, a soft moment in all this mess was nothing but a lie. A small escape but it was what she needed. For everything to just stop, just for a while so she wouldn't have to think about what came next. So she wouldn't have to think about what had come and gone. So she could just focus on being and breathing because anything else was too difficult to contemplate.

Her mind kept flashing back to that moment, to when…She felt her gut clench when she thought about it. The green hand around his throat. The look in his eyes. Emma put her head in her hands. His face, his god-damned face looking at her. _How did everything go so wrong?_ She wanted to go back, back to the castle. Maybe there was something they missed, maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe. Maybe he wasn't… _If only thinking made it so._ Shifting her feet she felt the hard outline of the broken wand in her back pocket and pulled it out. Foolishly she gripped the broken end, pricking her finger. But for the jagged shard it looked innocuous enough. The blood on it though, was another matter. _His blood._ Emma stared down and frowning, threw the wand across the room where it landed amongst his books.

She wanted to cry, she did. She wanted to mourn, to let out all the pain that was burrowing inside her like a rat in a hole. Tears though, tears would make it real. And all she felt now was numb. Experience told her it was the adrenaline pumping through her but her heart said it was loss. That stupid pirate! He'd always been there, finding ways to make her smile, whether it be through unwavering support or cheeky remarks. And now he was gone. She'd never get the chance to tell him what it had meant to her, that he had believed, even when she hadn't. _It wasn't fair!_ She ran a hand through her hair as she looked around his room. She was seeking solace from his memory in a place where she was surrounded by him and all that he was. It had been a mistake to come in here.

Slowly she stood and made as if to leave. But it would mean facing everyone and she wasn't ready for their pity. She would probably regret this but instead she walked over to his bed, pulled aside the blanket and tucked herself in. She buried her head in his pillow, inhaling the scent of sweat and musk and him, willing herself to sleep. To forget if just for a little while, that he was gone. Her mind may have been racing but she felt sluggish. Every joint ached with a keenness much like a marathon. Unbidden her mind jumped to an image of the two of them in this bed, his arms wrapped around her, pressing kisses into her neck, a future that would never be. But if she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, it was almost as if she could imagine him right beside her. As if she could just reach out and he'd be there. She stretched out her hand then, knowing he wouldn't be but wishing all the same that he was. That's when the tears came. Quietly she sobbed herself to sleep, hot tears on her face, her throat raw, for all that had been taken from her, for the man she'd been falling in love with, for the time that had been stolen from them.

When she awoke it was dark. The ship still creaking with every shift of her beams. Disoriented for a moment, Emma didn't remember where she was. And it was blissful. Because for that small stretch of time she forgot. Then it all came rushing back to her. _He's gone._ Sliding off the bed she stepped in water. Frowning, Emma stared down at her feet wondering if she'd spilled something. But in the dim light coming from the windows she could barely see her hand in front of her face. A half-full moon, shrouded in clouds was enough to make out shapes but nothing else. Stepping towards where she knew the door to be, she sloshed through more water. As she crouched and felt around on the floor she found an inch or two covering the floor, flowing from side to side with the roll of the ship. Her heart immediately pounded faster, her thoughts going to her parents. To everyone else on the ship.

Stumbling to the door she crashed into a chair, taking it with her as she fell onto the floor and into water. It was cold and had her gasping as she fought to regain her feet. Dripping in the dark she hesitated before feeling around in the general direction of the bookshelf. Regina had done spells before with blood magic. Maybe she could do something with the wand. As she searched her hand brushed against something hard and metallic. The sextant! She grabbed it like a lifeline, hugging the contraption to her body. If the ship was sinking as she feared, she wouldn't let this go to the bottom with it. _I won't lose all of him in one day! If I can only keep one piece, let it be this._ She delicately felt around for the damn wand and after several frustrating moments clamped her hand around the slim object and stuck it in her back pocket again. Precious moments ticked by as she stumbled towards the door to warn everyone. In the hallway, dimly lit by wall-mounted lanterns, she saw water rushing from side to side.

"Wake up! Everybody wake up!"

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she stumbled down the corridor, bumping into walls. She wasn't sure where her parents had ensconced themselves but judging by the hour everyone was either asleep or on deck keeping watch. Whether it was a leak or worse, it had to have started several decks below them, only reaching them as they slept.

"Wake up!" She banged on every door she passed, trying to ignore how cold her feet were growing. A stairwell on her left lead down into the dark, with water burbling up from some unknown hole.

"Emma?" She heard a faint voice behind her and turned to see David leaning against a doorframe, shirt hanging loose about his body. He was staring down at the ankle deep water he was standing in.

"The ship's flooding and I don't think it can be fixed in time. We need to wake everyone up and get them on deck."

He nodded, before darting back into his room. Slowly other doors opened with tired heads poking out. Emma suppressed a shiver as she walked the length of the ship. She was sure all the sleeping quarters were on this deck. It didn't bear thinking about if anyone had been caught further down. She yawned as she made a mental note that they would have to take a head count as soon as everyone was assembled. Concern would normally have kept her waiting until everyone had heard the warning but she'd lost all feeling in her toes. A smattering of dwarves tromped upstairs and in the distance she could make out what was obviously Regina leaning on Robin. Satisfied for the moment Emma made her way to the stairs, the sextant carefully tucked under her arm.

Above deck wasn't much better. The wind had picked up and it was raining. Poor Sneezy was standing at the helm, soaked and shivering, his hands clamped on the wheel. The rest of the group was huddled under the main mast, sleepy and upset. Grumpy quickly looked over the group and was relieved to find everyone present.

"I don't know how but the ship is sinking. All the decks below the sleeping quarters are flooded. We have to get into a lifeboat." Emma shouted at them, trying to be heard over the wind.

Everyone looked rather alarmed and more alert than they had been several minutes ago. David directed everyone to grab what supplies they could and load the nearest longboat. There was no telling how much time they had before the ship was swamped.

As Emma went about transferring water casks to their new mode of transportation, the sextant weighed heavy in her hand. She saw those around her working, fighting to survive, to save each other. Grumpy was helping Snow, who was wearing David's duster, into the longboat, just as Robin helped Regina. The two women huddled together in the rain, trying to derive warmth from shared body heat. And in that moment, as she watched these two family members, these two former enemies sitting side by side, she felt as if she was on the edge of something. A great precipice looking down over a dark chasm. She could either jump into the darkness or try and leap to the other side. That's when she knew she had to make a choice. On the surface it was simple but deep down she knew it was more than that. It would be a declaration, not just for herself or for Hook, not just for hope that he was alive, but that Emma wasn't giving up on him.

"I will find you." She whispered so low that only the wind could hear her as the group boarded the longboat, uncertain of their future but determined to face it together.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a deep ache somewhere past his neck, pulling at him, a slowly spreading pain that flowed over him like water, threatening to drag him back into darkness. There was yelling, a face looming over him, his shirt covered in blood, smoke all around. Gradually he felt himself slow, as if time were relaxing as he faded away from himself, sighing as the last of his breath left his body leaving only a tight coil pressing onto his lungs. And then everything moved sideways in a most unpleasant manner, jerking him out of unconsciousness. He blinked slowly, frowning in confusion as he saw a small metal statue hanging above him. Disoriented and groggy, he tried to swallow when he tasted blood in his mouth. But his throat was painfully dry, his tongue like a foreign object in his mouth.

He struggled to sit up, only to find he was restrained, strapped down in fact to some sort of table. Shifting in his bonds he felt a burst of pain in his chest and it all came rushing back: the fight, the witch, the wound. Groaning in discomfort he looked around to try and identify where he'd ended up. The room was a mess, with odd contraptions scattered about and a variety of drawings peppering the walls. Pieces of wood and leather lay haphazardly about, likely half-finished projects gathering dust and he could have sworn he saw a mouse run underneath one of the tables lining the wall. Strange shadows stretched across the floor, emanating from a dying fire in a stone hearth. The room smelled of smoke and blood, a pungent and raw odour that filled his senses.

He knew it wasn't safe. Considering the situation he was likely within the witch's castle or at least it seemed, at her mercy. Beyond falling to the ground in the courtyard, he could remember nothing. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed since then, though his shoulder felt markedly better. He pulled at his bonds again, testing them, checking for weaknesses but it was all for naught, only bringing on a fresh wave of agony. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes as he tried to breathe through the pain, frustrated and gasping as the feeling pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His ribs, broken or bruised, were still healing and he didn't dare think about his chest wound, though it wouldn't have mattered. He couldn't even lift his head to check the damage.

A loud snort startled him, his eyes widening in the gloom. Turning back towards the fire he saw a face leaning over the side of a chair, staring at him. The play of light and shadow distorted the features; a downturned mouth and a set of beady eyes staring over glasses were an unnerving sight.

"Wondering if you were going to wake up. Trust your sleep was uncomfortable."

The man unfolded himself from the chair, stretching as he stood, hands brushing the ceiling. He stumbled towards Hook, stepping over random bits and pieces strewn across the floor. His apron was covered in a number of mysterious stains, one of which Hook imagined was probably blood. He yawned as he leaned down over the pirate, pulling back the leather vest to check his work, poking at the finely stitched wound, causing Hook to flinch, jaw clenched, stifling a myriad of curses he wanted to shout at the man.

"Looks to be taking. Never expected you to live if I'm being honest."

Hook narrowed his eyes.

"Your confidence in my resilience is inspiring," he bit back.

"A talker are you? Won't like that. Prefers you nod and bow. Have to practice if you want to live. I'll go inform her you're awake."

The man turned to go, shuffling towards the door, muttering to himself in a hushed tone. And with him went a chance to escape, possibly Hook's last chance if the Witch was on her way. There was no telling if he would help but there was every reason to try.

"Wait!"

The man turned, a tired expression hiding behind his glasses.

"No use asking for favours. Her reach is farther than you can see." He continued on out the door, sure to shut it tightly behind him, the lock clicking into place.

Hook struggled against his restraints, more angry than anything. He wrenched at the straps until he thought he'd pass out, all the while aware of the stitches. He could feel them, taut against his skin, an unnatural feeling knowing they were tied into him yet not really a part of him. Minutes passed and the man did not return. At one point Hook must have dozed off for he woke, still alone, noting that the fire had faded to embers. And all the while the pain was pulling at him, hovering in the background of his thoughts, threatening to take over unless he remained motionless.

So instead he lay there, hand and jaw clenched, breath stuttering with every intake. He jerked against his bonds in surprise when the door banged open. The Witch waltzed in, a cruel smile pasted on her face as she came to stand over him and played her hand along his vest before pulling it aside to gaze at the former gash in his chest.

"Tinker's done his work well. You'll have a lovely scar from this."

Her fingers reached down to trace the line of stitching, her nails purposely digging into his skin. Hook flinched remembering the wand, how she'd driven it home, the feel of something foreign digging inside him. He stilled, doing his best to ignore her unwanted touch, staring at the ceiling avoiding her gaze. Frowning she grabbed his chin and wrenched his neck to the side, forcing him to face her.

"You're lucky I decided your life was worth sparing pirate."

He couldn't help it. It wasn't within his nature to stay quiet.

"Forgive me if I don't consider myself grateful for your interference on my behalf."

He spat out the words, glaring up at her. It wasn't the first time he'd been close to death. And perhaps this time oblivion would have been preferable to being in the Witch's clutches. She sneered, a quick snap of her hand across his face, leaving red lines of blood behind.

"You will be!"

With the threat hanging over his head she swept out of the room, leaving two guards to walk in and unstrap him. It was only then he noticed that his hook had been removed. Strangely though they'd left the brace. He had little time to look where it might be as the guards roughly pulled him from the table to his feet whereupon he instantly became aware of how full his bladder was. He blinked away a wave of dizziness, bit down on the pain in his chest and tried his best to grin.

The Tinker walked in, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor. This was an unwelcome intrusion that always felt more like a violation when she was around. His only solace being that his experiment had worked. Of course future complications were to be expected but for an untested idea it had gone remarkably well. His test subject was awake and breathing, although looking more pallid by the minute.

"I'm afraid I've need of your facilities. Do be a dear and point me to the nearest one." Hook tried his best to grin and failed.

The Tinker frowned.

"Best keep your tongue in your head. She's like to cut it off."

Before he could get the last word in Hook was rudely shoved out of the room with a guard to either side, gripping tight to his arms. As they marched him down a maze of corridors he could feel the sweat on his neck, at his temple. He was wobbly and nearly fell over more than once. He panted his way up a staircase and almost fainted when they reach the top. By the time they arrived at a large door, they were practically dragging him along. One unlocked the door with an unwieldy key while the other held onto the sagging prisoner, half conscious and very pale. They dumped him in the room, body slumping to the floor before they locked him in. Hook only had a moment to gaze at his new surroundings before he blacked out, hand stretched out on cold stone.

All was dark. He could hear muted yelling surrounding him, a clash of bodies, screaming. And then she appeared before him. Her mouth moved but the sound never seemed to reach his ears. The only important part, the part where everything came clear was when she raised her arm and impaled him, driving the wand into his chest. For a moment she laughed her voice high pitched, face triumphant in victory. And then she grew or perhaps he shrank but before long she was leaning over him, smiling. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn't move, couldn't wake up until she reached down and gave the sharp metal a hard twist, bringing him back to reality, unsettled and shaking.

Looking around for a moment he couldn't remember where he was. There was a vague remembrance of being thrown on the floor but his journey to the room was rather fuzzy. Grimacing he pulled himself up and half crawled over to the bucket in the corner, before relieving himself. _Small victories. _The room was empty, save the bucket, with no windows to speak of. It was small, likely only several paces wide but he wasn't yet up to standing, let alone walking to truly take the measure of the floor. He sat against one of the walls, trying to stem the ache in his chest. Movement was an aggravation so he stilled himself, trying to breathe as shallowly as he dared. It was no use though. Every beat of his heart was a pulse of pain, rhythmic and unrelenting. Slowly he reached up and pulled aside his vest to observe the wound, having been unable to do so before. His stiches were leaking. A trail of blood meandered down his torso, matting in his chest hair. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. _Just bloody perfect._

He thought back to the battle, back to when all the trouble started. He had been alone, separated from the others when she'd arrived. The original plan had been to dog Emma as she dove headlong into danger. Emma. For the first time since waking he thought of her. But when he conjured her in his mind, everything was muted, as if a frosted pane of glass had been set between them. He hadn't forgotten what she looked like or their adventures together but it was rather more like the haze of waking up after a dream or trying to recall memories from a lifetime ago.

For a long stretch he merely sat, his only focus on breathing and thoughts of escape. The door was solid and master masons had constructed a solid room, with no foreseeable weaknesses to exploit. It was all rather pointless though if he couldn't even walk straight. After some time he heard a key rattle in the lock and a guard stepped in to set down a cup of water and a heel of bread. If he'd been hungry he would have smiled. What might have seemed like prison food was nothing to someone who'd had to contend with maggoty biscuits and salted fish for months on end. In comparison this fare was practically a luxury. Later when he did think of eating, an upsurge of nausea convinced him otherwise. Instead he was reduced to soaking the bread and absently sucking on the softened pieces. By no means did he feel full but any thought of hunger was banished for the moment.

He measured his time in meals, forced down the stale bread and tried to make himself stumble around the perimeter of the cell, trying to regain his strength, often collapsing against the door winded, listening for the footsteps of guards, imagining how he would jump them if they came inside. Then the pain would lead him to staring at the walls of his cell, counting the stones, then naming every port he'd ever visited in order, then trying to picture how Emma would look in various states of undress. That last one made him smile, despite the ache in his chest.

He did his best to stay awake, softly whistling dirty sea shanties until he realized no one was coming and proceeded to belt out the bawdiest songs he knew. Voice hoarse he resorted to whispering, fighting until sleep claimed him.

And then the dream began. It always started the same. He couldn't move until she stabbed him and then he fell. He fell and fell and fell with her face always looking down at him, smiling, laughing. Sometimes he would land in a pit of knives, impaled on their sharp, thin points. Sometimes he would land in a pool of blood, warm and all his. And it was deep and viscous and unforgiving, pulling, always pulling at him, pulling him under until he couldn't breathe, until he choked. And he always woke with a start, hand going to his stitches, feeling for a phantom wound, blinking against the fear.

As time passed though, the jaunts around his cell grew shorter. The skin around his wound started to itch, overwarm and uncomfortable. This continued until one day he couldn't stand, until he left his food uneaten, simply sitting slumped against the wall, his breathing laboured and sluggish. Infection and fever. He knew the symptoms. Had witnessed them more than once onboard the _Jewel_. But there was no doctor here. No man with funny tablets in a bottle. He was alone.

He was busy contemplating that very aloneness when the door unlocked and she walked in, flanked by a pair of guards. He thought the dream had started again when he looked up at her, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

"Come to say final rites over my corpse?" He croaked at her.

She rolled her eyes. Always so melodramatic.

"Now where would be the fun in that? No I plan on keeping you for an unnaturally long time." She smirked. "Besides, there's something I want to show you."

She swished out of the cell and the guards hoisted him up behind her, dragging him when he wasn't fast enough to catch his feet. The sudden jolt sparked a flash of pain that ran the length of him. He groaned but held his tongue, not having the stomach to argue at this point, accepting that this was in fact happening. They pulled him down so many flights of stairs he lost count, descending so deep into the castle that the walls wept moisture and were peppered with the growings of tiny roots. Even the air changed, from a stale to a musty smell, like a damp cloth left out in the rain.

When they finally reached the lowest level Zelena swayed down a corridor lined with heavy doors, stopping in front of one near the end. Zelena waved a hand, the lock vanishing in a poof of green smoke. She grabbed a low burning torch off a nearby brazier and stepped inside, the guards shoving Killian in after. He fell to the ground at her feet, seeing nothing outside the tight circle of light, the earth under his knees hard and cold. He shivered against the heat burning under his skin.

Zelena held out a hand as if to cup the flame and slowly blew on it until light filled the room, revealing groups of people chained to the walls. Men, women and children, disheveled and dirty, their clothing once been yellow, now dulled to a muted mustard grey. They stared at him with sunken eyes, faces filled with fear.

"You're looking at my new army. And I have you to thank for it." She stared down at him, eyes flashing with something he'd qualify as zeal.

"Whatever your plans I request you leave me out of them."

"Your opinion is irrelevant."

And then she smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth and walked to the closest prisoner, a man with a glazed look in his eyes, his face gaunt with hunger. She grabbed a fistful of his clothes and yanked him to his feet. He swayed in her grip, not fully focusing on her, the surrounding prisoners moving away as far as their bonds would allow. She raised one hand before plunging it into the man's chest, ripping out his heart, small and red in her palm. In a poof of green smoke she materialized a dagger. Hook stared at her with a sick sense of déjà vu before watching her hand the blade over, all the while squeezing the man's heart.

"Kill the prisoner next to you," she ordered.

The man frowned in confusion but as his hand closed over the dagger he turned to the woman standing next to him. She only had time to open her mouth before he stabbed her, an empty scream turned to gurgles as she fell to the ground, bleeding. The others around her began to scream and yell, pulling at their chains, pushing to put bodies between themselves and the newly minted murderer. The man for his part looked down at his hand after the deed and dropped the dagger to the floor, shock playing across his face.

Tossing the heart in one hand, Zelena thanked the man for his 'services' and turned to Hook.

"Obedient as a dog wouldn't you say? And utterly heartless!"

She laughed and Hook could only stare, his vision wavering as he tried to focus on her face. She walked over and gripped his chin, tilting his head up towards hers.

"These are the people who are going to kill your friends."


End file.
