A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
“Sheriff Swan.” Regina walks into her office like she owns the place, not bothering to knock. “Where’s my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well he’s not at home so I assume he must have snuck off to do something ill-conceived with you as that seems to always be the case.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen Henry since the weekend.” In fact, he’d told her that they needed to hold off on Operation Cobra because his mom was getting suspicious. She knows though that it’s because he’s mad at her. He has been since she had to tell him she had Killian committed. And he’s been avoiding her. “Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?” Emma demands as Regina’s face grows from smug and annoyed to concerned. “It’s after seven!”
“He didn’t come home from school. I just assumed… He’s probably with a friend.” Emma wants to snap at her. Even when Henry is concerned she can’t back down, needs to be right rather than admit she screwed up and needs help.
“He doesn’t have any friends - at least none his own age,” she reminds the woman, even though it’s painful to say. It’s Regina’s fault Henry never befriended any of the kids at school. How could he, with a terrifying mother who kept him under lock and key? “Did you check his castle?”
“No. I came straight here.”
Emma grabs her keys off the desk. “You go check the park. I’ll go to Granny’s and see if he’s been there.” She may hate the woman, but this is Henry. It seems Regina’s willing to put their mutual distaste aside for this as well since she shockingly agrees and follows her out to her own car.
“Call me if you find him,” the Mayor orders and Emma nods, demanding the same courtesy in return.
She reaches Granny’s quickly, both the owner and Ruby hurrying over to her when she walks in and she realises she must look as worried as she feels. “Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”
Granny shakes her head. “No. But he was here earlier pouring over the storybook and a couple others.”
“Which books?” Knowing her kid, wherever he is it probably has something to do with the damn curse.
“I’m not sure. Kids books from the looks of them. Ruby, you served him.”
Ruby shrugs apologetically. “It was busy. But yeah they looked like regular kids books - fairy tales and stuff. One had a picture of a ship in it. I only remember because he covered it when I came up to him.”
“A ship?” Ruby nods. “Maybe he went down to the docks?”
“Hey Leroy!” Granny calls and the gruff, stout man looks up in annoyance. “You see the Mills boy today?”
“Why would I be hanging around with kids? I ain’t a babysitter.”
“You’re looking for Henry?” David walks over to them, a tray of takeout cups in his hand. “Is he okay?”
“He’s missing. Have you seen him?”
“He came by the animal shelter about an hour ago. Wanted to know if we’d found any crocodiles.”
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
“Sheriff Swan.” Regina walks into her office like she owns the place, not bothering to knock. “Where’s my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well he’s not at home so I assume he must have snuck off to do something ill-conceived with you as that seems to always be the case.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen Henry since the weekend.” In fact, he’d told her that they needed to hold off on Operation Cobra because his mom was getting suspicious. She knows though that it’s because he’s mad at her. He has been since she had to tell him she had Killian committed. And he’s been avoiding her. “Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?” Emma demands as Regina’s face grows from smug and annoyed to concerned. “It’s after seven!”
“He didn’t come home from school. I just assumed… He’s probably with a friend.” Emma wants to snap at her. Even when Henry is concerned she can’t back down, needs to be right rather than admit she screwed up and needs help.
“He doesn’t have any friends - at least none his own age,” she reminds the woman, even though it’s painful to say. It’s Regina’s fault Henry never befriended any of the kids at school. How could he, with a terrifying mother who kept him under lock and key? “Did you check his castle?”
“No. I came straight here.”
Emma grabs her keys off the desk. “You go check the park. I’ll go to Granny’s and see if he’s been there.” She may hate the woman, but this is Henry. It seems Regina’s willing to put their mutual distaste aside for this as well since she shockingly agrees and follows her out to her own car.
“Call me if you find him,” the Mayor orders and Emma nods, demanding the same courtesy in return.
She reaches Granny’s quickly, both the owner and Ruby hurrying over to her when she walks in and she realises she must look as worried as she feels. “Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”
Granny shakes her head. “No. But he was here earlier pouring over the storybook and a couple others.”
“Which books?” Knowing her kid, wherever he is it probably has something to do with the damn curse.
“I’m not sure. Kids books from the looks of them. Ruby, you served him.”
Ruby shrugs apologetically. “It was busy. But yeah they looked like regular kids books - fairy tales and stuff. One had a picture of a ship in it. I only remember because he covered it when I came up to him.”
“A ship?” Ruby nods. “Maybe he went down to the docks?”
“Hey Leroy!” Granny calls and the gruff, stout man looks up in annoyance. “You see the Mills boy today?”
“Why would I be hanging around with kids? I ain’t a babysitter.”
“You’re looking for Henry?” David walks over to them, a tray of takeout cups in his hand. “Is he okay?”
“He’s missing. Have you seen him?”
“He came by the animal shelter about an hour ago. Wanted to know if we’d found any crocodiles.”
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
“Sheriff Swan.” Regina walks into her office like she owns the place, not bothering to knock. “Where’s my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well he’s not at home so I assume he must have snuck off to do something ill-conceived with you as that seems to always be the case.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen Henry since the weekend.” In fact, he’d told her that they needed to hold off on Operation Cobra because his mom was getting suspicious. She knows though that it’s because he’s mad at her. He has been since she had to tell him she had Killian committed. And he’s been avoiding her. “Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?” Emma demands as Regina’s face grows from smug and annoyed to concerned. “It’s after seven!”
“He didn’t come home from school. I just assumed… He’s probably with a friend.” Emma wants to snap at her. Even when Henry is concerned she can’t back down, needs to be right rather than admit she screwed up and needs help.
“He doesn’t have any friends - at least none his own age,” she reminds the woman, even though it’s painful to say. It’s Regina’s fault Henry never befriended any of the kids at school. How could he, with a terrifying mother who kept him under lock and key? “Did you check his castle?”
“No. I came straight here.”
Emma grabs her keys off the desk. “You go check the park. I’ll go to Granny’s and see if he’s been there.” She may hate the woman, but this is Henry. It seems Regina’s willing to put their mutual distaste aside for this as well since she shockingly agrees and follows her out to her own car.
“Call me if you find him,” the Mayor orders and Emma nods, demanding the same courtesy in return.
She reaches Granny’s quickly, both the owner and Ruby hurrying over to her when she walks in and she realises she must look as worried as she feels. “Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”
Granny shakes her head. “No. But he was here earlier pouring over the storybook and a couple others.”
“Which books?” Knowing her kid, wherever he is it probably has something to do with the damn curse.
“I’m not sure. Kids books from the looks of them. Ruby, you served him.”
Ruby shrugs apologetically. “It was busy. But yeah they looked like regular kids books - fairy tales and stuff. One had a picture of a ship in it. I only remember because he covered it when I came up to him.”
“A ship?” Ruby nods. “Maybe he went down to the docks?”
“Hey Leroy!” Granny calls and the gruff, stout man looks up in annoyance. “You see the Mills boy today?”
“Why would I be hanging around with kids? I ain’t a babysitter.”
“You’re looking for Henry?” David walks over to them, a tray of takeout cups in his hand. “Is he okay?”
“He’s missing. Have you seen him?”
“He came by the animal shelter about an hour ago. Wanted to know if we’d found any crocodiles.”
Crocodiles. “Did he say anything else?”
David frowns. “He wanted to know how long it took for my memories to come back. For the curse to work on me, I think is what he actually said. I don’t really know what he meant.”
Emma sighs, shoulders sagging in relief. “It’s okay. I do.” She knows where he is. “Thanks,” she nods at them all before heading back out to her car and heading down the road to Storybrooke General. She hasn’t been back since that horrible evening, since Killian swore she’d regret it. She almost did a few times, but her guilt got the better of her. Emma knows she did the right thing, but that doesn’t mean she feels any less crap for doing it.
She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for Killian’s anger and Henry’s inevitable tantrum before she goes down into the basement where the psychiatric ward is housed. She texts Regina that she found Henry and she’ll bring him home - if only for another way to stall a little longer.
The nurse at the front desk tells her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, there haven’t been any visitors, certainly not any kids. Emma nearly rolls her eyes, she knows her kid. He’d have found a way in, so she flashes her badge and continues on past reception. She’d expected to find Henry in or outside Killian’s room. What she hadn’t expected was to find him with a ring of keys in his hand, quickly trying each one while Killian watches through the window in his door, standing guard.
“Henry. What the hell are you doing?”
Her son freezes at the sound of his name, the small wince on his face telling her he knows he’s been caught. “Don’t be mad,” he says quickly.
“Don’t be mad? You’re trying to break a mentally ill patient out of the hospital,” she snaps, doing her best to not shout at him.
“I’m not ill,” Killian glares through the bars.
“Mom, we have to get him out! He’s in danger!”
“Kid,” she sighs, “I know you want to believe him but it’s not real. And if someone is trying to hurt him he’s a lot safer here than running around town.”
“But it is real!” he insists. “And if we don’t get him out of Storybrooke soon the curse will get him! Just like it did David.”
“David just got his memories back,” she tries to reason. “That had nothing to do with a curse.”
Henry shakes his head furiously. “No, it was the curse!”
“I -” Emma starts but he cuts her off.
“What about Graham?” he demands and her breath catches at the mention of his name. She doesn’t miss the way Killian’s head tilts with interest, noting her reaction.
Emma swallows. “What about Graham?” she asks weakly.
“He got his memories back and then he died.” The words are blunt and while she knows he doesn’t intend them to, they cut deep. “Killian can’t stay here so long as he knows the truth. Regina will either make him forget or she’ll kill him.”
“Henry,” she says softly, reaching out to brush a hand over his hair soothingly. How did she miss this? This whole time her son’s thought that his mother murdered someone he cared about. “Regina didn’t kill Graham. He had a heart attack.”
“No he didn’t!” he insists, stepping back from her. “And if we don’t get him out of here she’ll kill him too.” He sounds desperate, on the edge of tears - and resolute. She knows there’s no reasoning with him. Not now.
“Henry, go wait for me at the front desk,” she says firmly, playing the mom card she hates using with him and holding out her hand for the keys.”
“But -”
“Go. This isn’t a curse. This isn’t a game, okay - this is dangerous.” She glances up at Killian whose eyes narrow, hatred seething from his gaze. “Now,” she adds when he doesn’t move right away and Henry hands her the keys, dejected.
“I thought you believed me,” he says sadly before running off through the swinging doors. Emma sighs, heart breaking at having to hurt him. But this isn’t one of the fantasies she can indulge, not when there’s someone who could be put at risk as a result. It’s fine to let him believe Mary Margaret is a fairytale character, that she’s some fabled saviour. But feeding into a sick man’s delusions isn’t helping anyone.
“So what,” she says, looking up at Killian again. “You’re just going to manipulate a kid into helping you break out?”
He raises a brow at her, that anger still not leaving his eyes. “Your boy is the only sane one in this town.”
“He’s ten. He believes in fairytales.”
“The fairytales are true, love,” he bites. “You best start listening to the lad or there’ll be darkness coming for all of you.”
A chill runs down her spine. She knows it’s not real. It’s not. But listening to him, he believes every word of what he says and a small, terrified little voice in the back of her mind asks her what if he’s telling the truth. She shakes her head. Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true, she reminds herself.
“Stay away from my kid,” she warns.
“He sought me out. I can’t exactly go looking for him from this brig can I?”
“You’re not a prisoner,” she tries to reason.
Killian reaches a hand up to wrap around the bar on his window, eyeing her carefully, his smile is shrewd and laced with loathing. “I believed you the first time, Swan. Fool me once, shame on you.”
She doesn’t let herself take the bait. He can hate her. Emma can live with that. He just needs time to get better. He needs treatment and help, and if he still hates her after, well, she’ll have done everything she can - the right thing.
“Goodbye, Killian.” He doesn’t answer, only glares and she hates how much it bothers her to have him look at her like that when only a few days ago they’d agreed to trust one another. She’s doing the right thing, she reminds herself, even as her conviction falters every time she has to repeat it.
“Sheriff,” He calls, when she’s nearly at the doors, the title mocking, an insult on his tongue. She turns back. “Keep your boy close. There are things in this world you don’t understand.”
She hates the dread that settles in her stomach at his warning, the way it turns her blood cold and her skin hot. She’s not going to listen to a man who tried to get her son to break him out of a mental institution. But she can only just make out his face and she knows from the way he still seethes that the warning isn’t for her - it’s for Henry. And the worst part is, she believes him.
*****
“We have to help him, Mom,” Henry begs as they make their way down the dimly lit streets back towards the Mayor’s house. The street lights are flickering, every few minutes one going out entirely until they’ve gone past it and it stutters back to life. It’s eerie and if this wasn’t Storybrooke she’d be walking a hell of a lot faster, dragging her kid along behind her to safety.
They should have driven. But he’d been so worked up when Emma had found him in reception that she’d left her car at the hospital, opting to let him walk off some of the pent up energy before he got home and it exploded with Regina nearby. She couldn’t risk him bringing up anything about Operation Cobra around him, not when it would only give Regina more ammo to keep him away from her.
“We are helping him. The doctors are going to do everything they can.”
“But he’s not crazy! He needs to get out of Storybrooke.”
“What he needs is medication, and probably therapy. Henry, he believes some dark sorcerer is trying to kill him, okay? He thinks all the fairies and mermaids and magic stuff is real. He’s not well.”
His eyes go wide with hurt and anger. “I believe in all that magic stuff. Do you think I’m crazy? Are you going to lock me up in the psych ward too?”
“It’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re ten, he’s a grownup.”
“You’re a grownup,” he insists. “You said you believed me; you said you believed in the curse.” Henry looks at her with hope that quickly shifts into realisation, and then anger. “You lied! You think I’m crazy - just like Regina.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. But Killian isn’t well.” She doesn’t know how to make him understand, not without crushing him and destroying their relationship. “Besides,” she says, remembering suddenly. “You told me he’s not in the book. How can he be from the Enchanted Forest if he wasn’t cursed?”
“Because he came after,” Henry explains.
“After? How? From where?”
He grins, clearly taking her questions to mean she believes him now and she can tell he’s proud to have figured something out. “Neverland.”
Emma frowns. “Neverland?”
“Think about it,” he pushes. “He’s afraid of kids and said a crocodile is after him, he had a sword - he only has one hand…” Henry raises his eyebrows at her and Emma squeezes her eyes shut in exasperation.
“You think he’s Captain Hook?”
“He is! You even said he was talking about mermaids and fairies. And that story about the Lovell house - three kids disappearing out the window… sound familiar?”
She has to admit that it does all fit together. Except that probably just means the guy saw the movie or read the book and based his delusions on that. The street lights flicker once again and Emma’s breath catches as Henry smirks.
“Do you believe me now?”
“I believe that he believes he’s Captain Hook, if that’s what he told you. But Peter Pan is a book, kid, not a fairytale. It was written by a guy who actually existed like a hundred years ago. It’s not the same as something like Snow White or Cinderella.”
“It’s still a story,” he argues. They’re rounding the corner of the pawn shop now, the sky seeming too dark for the time of night, the street lights dimming the longer they walk. They should have taken the car.
“Not every story is real. If so, how come we’ve never seen Godzilla running around?” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood and ignore the chill running through her as the wind picks up suddenly.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I just think you’re wrong about this one. You need to trust me, okay. We need to let the doctors handle Killian from here.”
“He is Captain Hook.” He’s resolved now, clutching his bag with the book to his chest as he sets his jaw in a way that’s unplaceable but familiar. He looks up suddenly, face hardening in determination. “And I can prove it.”
Before she can ask what he’s doing, he’s run off across the street, narrowly avoiding a lone car making its way down Main street. She has to stop as the car honks, stopping her from following him wherever he’s going. She stares off after the car, debating flipping whoever it is off, but then she catches sight of Henry’s retreating form and she realises where he’s headed.
The Lovell house.
Fuck.
“Henry!” she calls, running after him, but he ignores her, pushing open the front window and worming his way through the opening before she reaches the property. “Son of a bitch,” she mutters to herself. That place is a death trap. “Henry, come on,” she tries, through the window as she attempts to squeeze inside. It’s a tight fit and she only just makes it, even if it takes her twice as long as it did him.
By the time she’s inside, the place almost pitch black apart from the sparse traces of moonlight breaking through the windows and the cracks in the walls, he’s already across the entranceway, past the painting of the old Victorian family on the mantle. Three children, she notes. Not four like in the story. Henry hovers at the bottom of the staircase and she calls his name again.
“Don’t go up there,” she orders. “It’s too dangerous.” He only hesitates for a moment, looking up at the rickety steps, at the one she broke through a few days ago. Then he faces her, resolute.
“I need you to believe me,” he says before running at full speed up the stairs.
“Henry!” she yells as she hears the steps creak under his weight, one breaks off halfway up behind him and lands at her feet as she reaches the bottom. “Henry, come on! I believe you, okay?” she shouts up.
“No you don’t!” he shouts back as he reaches the top of the staircase and her heart can’t decide if it wants to stop racing because he’s safe or pound harder because she doesn’t know how she’ll get him back down.
God damn it, she wants to scream as she realises what she has to do. Setting one foot on the first step close to the edge where she hopes it’s sturdier, and grabbing on to the railing for dear life, she begins her slow ascent to the second floor. Every few steps, the wood groans under her weight or there’s a terrifying crack, but nothing breaks thankfully, including her neck.
Henry’s gone by the time she reaches the top and she shouts his name, her voice echoing eerily through the empty floor like it’s mocking her, answering from every room all at once. She hears footsteps echoing too, unable to tell where they’re coming from, but a kid’s for sure. She calls Henry’s name again and he still doesn’t answer. She knows where he’s going though, trying to picture the outside of the house, that window he spoke about in his story, and goes left.
There’s another small stairwell at the end of the hall, this one less dilapidated than the main staircase, curving and narrow and she hears the footsteps coming from the top. He is so grounded when she finds him. He’s gonna wish she let Regina handle it, she tells herself. Henry’s speaking, something she can’t make out and she frowns.
“I can’t hear you kid, but whatever you’re saying better be an apology,” she says before there’s a small shout and her heart drops. Emma sprints up the last few steps, hoping he hasn’t fallen right through the floor or cut himself on an exposed nail or broken piece of furniture. But the room is eerily silent, empty. “Henry?” she tries. Nothing.
She scrambles for her phone, turning on the flashlight and shining it into every corner. It’s a nursery, the old-fashioned kind where the kids would live until they were old enough for the parents to want them around. Three beds rest against the wall to her right, moth-eaten sheets and dust-covered cobwebs draped across them. The rest of the room is littered in old toys: a dollhouse that’s almost an exact replica of the one it’s in, swords and stuffed animals and costumes. There’s a dresser with a drawer left open, a pincushion forgotten atop it.
A cold sweat breaks out on the back of her neck. She understands why everyone thinks this place is haunted. With every corner she flashes her light into she expects to find a child, equally as dust covered and desiccated as the rest of the room watching her. Frozen in time, forgotten. But there are no children here, most importantly, not her own.
She’s about to leave the room, go looking for him somewhere else when she notices the bench across the room. Light pours onto it from the open window it’s built under, and onto the one thing in this whole house that doesn’t look a century old: Henry’s bag.
Emma runs to it, to the window that’s thrown wide open, thoughts so flooded with panic that she can’t hear a single one and she grabs it, leaning out over the edge to the street below, expecting to see the worse. But there’s nothing, no body like she feared and she wants to cry in relief, a small sob leaving her as the worst fear she’s ever felt in her life subsides.
“Henry!” she calls again, and still she’s met with no answer. She takes the bag, checking the room again, checking every other room in the house, making her way down the terrifying stairs. Nothing. There’s no sign of him. She knows her son. She may not have known him long but she knows him. He’s reckless, and stubborn, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t disappear on her without any explanation. Regina, maybe, but not her.
She takes out her phone, dials Regina’s number. “Is Henry with you?” she demands before his other mother can get a word in.
“No. I thought you said you found him.”
“He’s gone,” is all she can manage to say. “Henry’s gone.”
*****
The entire town gathers at the Lovell house, every inch of it scoured by everyone she’s met and some she hasn’t. An Amber Alert is dispatched. The streets are combed, classmates are called and woken up. A search party is formed and heads off into the woods. They look until the sun comes up, Henry’s name echoing through the streets of Storybrooke like a taunt, reminding her with every unanswered call that she lost him, this is her fault.
“We’ll find him,” Mary Margaret reassures her, handing her a cup of cocoa as Emma sits on the curb outside the Lovell house, clutching her son’s storybook in her lap. “He’ll come back.” Emma shakes her head, already fearing the worst. She doesn’t even know which worse scares her more, that he ran away, that he was taken, that he had an accident… “Remember he took off to find you a few months ago? He came back then.”
“Yeah but this isn’t him taking a bus to Boston,” she answers, somehow sounding both broken and harsh. “He’s trying to find Neverland, Mary Margaret.”
“Neverland?” Regina demands, appearing next to them. “Where the hell did he get that idea?” She looks at the book in her hands. “Is this your doing?” she glares. “You and that book again?”
“Regina,” Mary Margaret tries to interject. “This isn’t anybody’s fault.”
“Don’t defend her!” Regina snaps. “And don’t try and placate me; my son is missing!”
“Our son is missing,” Emma corrects her. “I want to find him too.”
The other woman glares. “How do I know you didn’t take him? That this isn’t all some ploy to run off with him?”
Emma feels like she’s been slapped and anger rises within her. “Because I wouldn’t keep him from the people he cares about,” she snaps back. If Regina wants a fight, she’ll get it.
“Stop it,” Mary Margaret jumps in, more boldly than she’s ever heard her speak. “Both of you lost him, both of you want Henry back. Stop fighting each other and work together. You’re the Sheriff and the Mayor for goodness sake. You have a better chance of finding him if you’d just put everything else aside for a minute!”
Both of them stare at her for a moment. She’s right. Emma knows she is. And as much as she hates it, Regina is better to have as an ally than an enemy right now. She turns to Henry’s other mother. “He went into that house because he was trying to prove that Neverland was real. He got it into his head that it was like the curse.” She makes a point to leave out the bit about Killian, not wanting to risk Regina going after him. “He thinks the ghost story everyone tells about this house is about the Darling children. You know, the ones from -”
“Yes, I’ve seen the movie,” she cuts her off harshly, brow pinched tight, lip curling in a snarl. “Neverland. Of all the… Keep everyone searching,” she orders, marching off.
“Where are you going?” Emma asks in disbelief. Apparently only she had decided to lay down her arms.
“To find my son!”
*****
Another hour passes, and still there’s no sign of Henry anywhere. “Can you have everyone sweep the town again now that it’s light out? And the woods?” she asks her friend. “I’m going to check the house. Maybe there’s a closet or something that was missed.”
She nods, “Be careful,” and heads over to speak to the teams that have assembled themselves. Emma’s about to head back into the Lovell house when she notices Regina. She looks carefully behind her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat before she slips into Gold’s pawnshop. What the hell? she thinks, not giving much thought to her decision before she hurries down the street after her.
The shop is still dark, the open sign unlit and Emma peers through the window as discreetly as she can, doing her best to hide herself among the displays. Gold is there a small vial of something on the counter in front of him and wearing that unflappable, infuriatingly polite grin as the Mayor snaps at him. At least she’s pretty sure she’s snapping at him. Her face is twisted in that same way it always is when she talks to Emma and while she can’t hear what’s being said, she can hear the muffled sounds of her raised voice.
Regina’s hand comes down hard on the counter, making Emma jump. But Gold doesn’t flinch, his expression calm and collected if not a little annoyed as he answers her with dismissively raised brows. He must be the only person in this town besides herself who isn’t afraid of Regina. Her voice is louder now, just enough for Emma to catch ‘owe me’ and ‘my son’ and ‘get there’, before she storms out.
“What was that about?” Emma demands as the door is flung open. Regina startles, then glares when she sees her.
“That was none of your business, Miss Swan.”
“Like hell it’s not! I heard you talking about Henry. If you know where he is or how to get him back you have to tell me,” she insists, wondering if her authority in this town would have any influence over this woman.
“I don’t have to tell you anything. Henry is my son. I’ll get him back safely. You need to stay out of my way, this is all your doing after all,” she accuses.
“My doing?”
“Bringing him around that man. Did you even think about how dangerous that could be, how susceptible that boy is?” She’s angry now, angry enough that she looks panicked for a moment, like she’s said too much when Emma asks about the man. “Go back to your search party, Sheriff,” she dismisses, turning to walk off. Emma grabs her arm and Regina reels on her. “Get your hand off me!”
“How are you going to find him?”
Regina gives her a determined look, jaw setting harshly. “I’ll find a way,” she swears before ripping her arm from her grip.
Emma baulks at her as she takes off down the street. She knows something. She knows where Henry is, or she has an idea - and it’s not in Storybrooke. But whether or not she knows where he is, she doesn’t know how to find him, how to bring him home.
All your doing, bringing him around that man, Regina had said. Which man? Killian? But he’s locked in a cell in the basement of the hospital. She’d just left him there before Henry disappeared. He couldn’t have done it - he wouldn’t have done it. Only… she remembers the warning he gave her son a few days ago, stay away from that house, all the glimpses he shared of whatever he’d gone through, what other children had gone through.
He may have imagined everything, but maybe there was a grain of truth in it, some trauma that he fantasised to protect himself. No, Killian can’t have been the one to take him, but he might know who did. And she locked him up.
She runs back to the hospital, her car still in the parking lot where she left it last night, dashing past Dr. Whale who tries to stop her, past the receptionist in the basement who barely gets a chance to check her badge before Emma grabs the keys off the rings and continues down the hall. She reaches his room, banging on the door with her fist, and then again when there’s no answer.
“Killian!” she practically shouts, hearing sleepy groans of disapproval from the rooms around her.
“I can hear you, Sheriff, no need to shout,” he answers with an annoyed sigh. She looks through the barred window, craning her neck until she can see him sitting up on his bed, elbow resting on his raised knee like he couldn’t care less. They’ve changed him into a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt, but even still, dressed down and locked up, he looks ready for a fight. He only glances at her, barely giving her the time of day before he asks, “Rough night?”
“The place you talked about, with the boys and the fae berries, the one you escaped. Is it real?” He cocks his head at her, frowning.
“I believe you declared it wasn’t, did you not.”
“Killian. Is it a real place? Neverland,” she clarifies, hating how ridiculous it sounds. But if there are real people who took Henry to a real place somewhere near Storybrooke, she’ll feed into his fantasy and call it whatever he wants
He raises a brow, a small, knowing smile curling his lips as realisation dawns on him. “Ah, I see you’ve been speaking to your boy.”
“Is it real?”
“I fear to answer your question would only have me sent to some other, even more disagreeable brig. Seems to be a bit of a pattern -”
“Killian.” She knows she sounds desperate and he must hear it in her voice because he smirks, his face shifting as he realises he has the upper hand, confidence dripping from his words as he answers.
“Aye, it’s real.”
“Can you take me there?”
“I could,” he concedes, nodding before standing and walking over to the window, fingers wrapping around the bars. “But I won’t.”
“I need you to,” she starts but he shakes his head.
“No. I’ll never go back there,” he swears. “Not for all the world. I earned my freedom and I won’t be dragged back.”
“Please, Killian, I need your help.”
He glares. “And why should I help you? You’re the reason I’m here. I trusted you. No, I won’t make that mistake twice.”
“I saved your life,” she reminds him.
He laughs, a sharp, angry sound. “Aye, you did, though I don’t feel quite so inclined to return the favour at the moment.”
“Then just tell me how to get there,” she snaps. “If you won’t help me.”
Killian scoffs. “You couldn’t find your way even if he wanted you. Neverland is about belief, love,” he tells her, words cold and chosen to cut. “And you, you don’t believe in anything - not me, not in magic, not yourself. no, something or someone took that from you long ago didn’t they?” he asks, eyes casting over her from head to toe and smirking when she doesn’t answer, realising he’s right.
“You don’t even believe in your boy,” he taunts and the words twist in her like a hand closed over her heart. Killian grins, satisfied with his work and turns his back on her, clearly expecting her to leave, deciding she’s not worth any more of his time.
“They have Henry,” she tells him, grabbing the bars, and fighting the tears in her eyes as she makes one last, desperate attempt to get him to help her. He freezes. “Whoever they are, they took him.”
“What do you mean?” he demands, whirling on her, his own fingers closing around the bar below her, face close enough that she can feel his breath on her cheek even as he glares at her. “How? This better not be a trick -” he starts.
“It’s not a trick. He ran into the Lovell house to prove a point. I couldn’t get to him in time and then he was just… gone.” His gaze darts to the floor, calculating, deciding. “What do you know about that house?” she pushes.
“Nothing,” he tells her before his eyes lift to hers once more. “But I’ve known others like it.” She takes a chance, hoping that if nothing else, he’ll help her for Henry’s sake, and lifts the keys, unlocking the door and letting it swing open. He studies her. He could run if he wanted. She couldn’t stop him and he knows it.
“Please,” is all she says, trying to read the war raging behind the deep, conflicted blue staring back at her. His jaw ticks, fist clenching at his side and steps out.
“Come on. If he’s taken the boy… we don’t have much time.”
******
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A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
It’s still early when Emma makes her way down Main Street towards the pawn shop, most of the town still asleep - except of course her roommate who had been heading to school early every day this week, out of the house by the ungodly hour of seven. She’s not sure she believes her - some excuse about a science fair Henry never mentioned - but she has more important things to deal with this morning. She’ll ask Mary Margaret about it tomorrow.
Making her way past Granny’s, she notices David leaving, nudging the door open with his elbow, a coffee in each hand. He offers her a friendly but guilty smile and Emma nods back at him. She doesn’t have anything against the guy personally; it’s not his fault he broke her friend’s heart. But there’s something to be said about girl code, she reminds herself as she reaches the shop.
She doesn’t notice the glass until it crunches under her boot. Emma looks down, lifting her foot and noticing the shards that line the sidewalk just outside the door. Hand on the doorknob she notices the shattered pane in the window above it, patched up with cardboard and duct tape, and frowns. Another break-in? She double checks that she wore her holster today even though it looks like this happened a few days ago if Gold’s already patched it up. But he didn’t call her to report it and suspicion and intuition prickle at the back of her neck.
The bell above her head lets out a small chime when she enters the shop. “Good morning, Miss Swan,” Gold says, looking up from the ledger in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His grin is polite, as always, but she fights the urge to narrow her eyes at him, at the constant hint of sarcasm that always accompanies that smile. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, just barely hidden by his hair falling over it, but noticeable to someone used to looking.
“What happened here?” she asks, shutting the door behind her and crossing the shop cautiously. She can’t put her finger on it but something looks out of place. It’s not as if there’s ever been any real, discernable order to the store, but something just feels… off. She notices an empty display case, the glass missing where the others are locked shut and gives the owner a look she thinks might be a bit too accusatory.
Mr. Gold shrugs. “Local vandals.” His tone is dismissive. “Came in, took a thing or two. Nothing valuable.”
“And you didn’t think to report it?”
“They were teenagers from the high school. I came out of the back and scared them off - they must have thought the shop was empty. I didn’t want to get them into trouble. I’m sure you know better than most how devastating a run in with the law can be at such a young age.”
Emma bites the inside of her cheek at the sympathy mimicked in his tone, the knowing reminder hidden beneath it. “You didn’t have any trouble reporting Ashley when she broke in.”
“Ah, but you weren’t the law then, Sheriff,” he adds with a small, conspiratorial smile. She doesn’t believe him.
“They do that to you?” She nods at the cut on his forehead, bruising visible as he brushes his hair back to touch it, much worse than she originally assumed.
“This? No, no. That was another matter entirely. I was tidying in the back room and forgot my cane in the front of the store. I’m afraid my leg wasn’t up to it,” he explains, patting the leg in question. “I took a fall and hit my head on the desk.” Another lie. She eyes him suspiciously as he feins embarrassment, but it’s not as though she can do anything about it.
“Were you looking for something?” he asks then. Emma raises a brow in confusion and he sweeps a hand out towards the store. “A gift for the boy perhaps? I just got some books in that I think he might enjoy very much.”
Emma shakes her head. “No, um, thanks. I was actually hoping you might be able to help me find someone - or something.”
The corner of Gold’s lips twitch up. “How very cryptic and fascinating,” he muses. “I thought finding people was your specialty, Sheriff.”
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
It’s still early when Emma makes her way down Main Street towards the pawn shop, most of the town still asleep - except of course her roommate who had been heading to school early every day this week, out of the house by the ungodly hour of seven. She’s not sure she believes her - some excuse about a science fair Henry never mentioned - but she has more important things to deal with this morning. She’ll ask Mary Margaret about it tomorrow.
Making her way past Granny’s, she notices David leaving, nudging the door open with his elbow, a coffee in each hand. He offers her a friendly but guilty smile and Emma nods back at him. She doesn’t have anything against the guy personally; it’s not his fault he broke her friend’s heart. But there’s something to be said about girl code, she reminds herself as she reaches the shop.
She doesn’t notice the glass until it crunches under her boot. Emma looks down, lifting her foot and noticing the shards that line the sidewalk just outside the door. Hand on the doorknob she notices the shattered pane in the window above it, patched up with cardboard and duct tape, and frowns. Another break-in? She double checks that she wore her holster today even though it looks like this happened a few days ago if Gold’s already patched it up. But he didn’t call her to report it and suspicion and intuition prickle at the back of her neck.
The bell above her head lets out a small chime when she enters the shop. “Good morning, Miss Swan,” Gold says, looking up from the ledger in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His grin is polite, as always, but she fights the urge to narrow her eyes at him, at the constant hint of sarcasm that always accompanies that smile. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, just barely hidden by his hair falling over it, but noticeable to someone used to looking.
“What happened here?” she asks, shutting the door behind her and crossing the shop cautiously. She can’t put her finger on it but something looks out of place. It’s not as if there’s ever been any real, discernable order to the store, but something just feels… off. She notices an empty display case, the glass missing where the others are locked shut and gives the owner a look she thinks might be a bit too accusatory.
Mr. Gold shrugs. “Local vandals.” His tone is dismissive. “Came in, took a thing or two. Nothing valuable.”
“And you didn’t think to report it?”
“They were teenagers from the high school. I came out of the back and scared them off - they must have thought the shop was empty. I didn’t want to get them into trouble. I’m sure you know better than most how devastating a run in with the law can be at such a young age.”
Emma bites the inside of her cheek at the sympathy mimicked in his tone, the knowing reminder hidden beneath it. “You didn’t have any trouble reporting Ashley when she broke in.”
“Ah, but you weren’t the law then, Sheriff,” he adds with a small, conspiratorial smile. She doesn’t believe him.
“They do that to you?” She nods at the cut on his forehead, bruising visible as he brushes his hair back to touch it, much worse than she originally assumed.
“This? No, no. That was another matter entirely. I was tidying in the back room and forgot my cane in the front of the store. I’m afraid my leg wasn’t up to it,” he explains, patting the leg in question. “I took a fall and hit my head on the desk.” Another lie. She eyes him suspiciously as he feins embarrassment, but it’s not as though she can do anything about it.
“Were you looking for something?” he asks then. Emma raises a brow in confusion and he sweeps a hand out towards the store. “A gift for the boy perhaps? I just got some books in that I think he might enjoy very much.”
Emma shakes her head. “No, um, thanks. I was actually hoping you might be able to help me find someone - or something.”
The corner of Gold’s lips twitch up. “How very cryptic and fascinating,” he muses. “I thought finding people was your specialty, Sheriff.”
“It is.” Emma settles her hands on her hips, cocking her head as she meets his gaze. “But everyone knows that nothing goes on in this town without you knowing about it.”
He looks genuinely pleased if not a little smug. “Well, I do like to keep my ear to the ground. What exactly is it you’re looking for? Or whom?”
“Has anyone new come into town recently? Anyone… strange?
“I assume you’re not referring to the one-handed vagrant?”
“You know about him?” she frowns.
“I believe all of Storybrooke knows about him. He caused quite a scene at the hospital from what I heard. Dangerous sort,” he shakes his head and she thinks she imagines the way his lip twitches before settling into its natural frown. “That kind of madness, it… consumes the mind.”
“You’re saying that like you know him.”
“I’ve seen it before.” His shrug is noncommittal, but he looks away, lost in thought.
“In who?”
“I lived many years before you came to Storybrooke, Miss Swan, and not just here. Seen a great deal more as well, I’d assume.”
Emma eyes him for a moment, wondering if he’s going to add anything, but when he stays silent she asks, “Have you heard anything about ‘The Boy’?”
He does smile this time. “There are several boys in Storybrooke, most of which you could find just across the alley out back at the school. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Not a boy. The boy. I think it’s an alias of some kind.”
“A rather silly one if you ask me,” he comments.
“So no?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Emma takes a step closer. The break-in, the shattered case, the obvious blow to his head, none of it fits. Or it all does - she just doesn’t know what yet. “What about The Crocodile?”
She sees it, the small darkening in his eyes, a fraction of a second. “Another alias?” he asks, but the question is more forced this time. Emma nods and Gold shakes his head. They’ve entered some kind of weird staring contest that she’s not sure who started, but she won’t be the one to break first. “These sound like the delusions of a madman,” he tells her. “I don’t know that you should be wasting valuable police time on fantasies. Surely there are more important matters to occupy the sheriff’s time.”
Emma nods, leaning on the other side of the counter now. “I forgot that your store shares the alley out back with the Lovell house,” she ventures as casually as she can. “Did you see anything, or hear anything that night? The night we found the stranger.”
“Afraid not.”
“You’re sure? He was pretty beat up. It doesn’t seem like something that would have happened quietly.”
“I wish I could help you, but I’d already locked up and gone home by then.”
Emma nods. “Is that the night you had the break-in?”
“Last night,” he corrects.
She looks around. “You cleaned up pretty fast.”
He sighs, starting to get a little annoyed and she has to try not to smirk. “I’m an early riser, and I take pride in my shop. Now if there’s nothing else…”
“Of course.” She knows he’s lying about something - and he knows it too. “Have a good day, Mr. Gold.”
“You as well. Sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.”
“No problem.”
“And, Miss Swan,” he calls when she’s reached the door and Emma turns back. “I’ll be sure to keep my ear to the ground… should any crocodiles come wandering through town.”
Emma smiles, the same polite sarcastic one he favours. “Thanks.”
***
The sound of the TV resonates from the room as Emma makes her way to the door. She smiles at Ashley, sitting in the waiting room with her newborn, in for a checkup. She stops to nod at the guard still posted outside the door, offers to let him go for a coffee break while she’s there, and he eagerly accepts.
“So this black box tells stories at all times?”
“Yep.”
“And are the people inside the box?”
Emma frowns before a voice answers. “No. They’re recorded - like before. This is just them replaying it.” She knows that voice. What the hell is -
“Henry?” she demands, walking in to see her son sitting on the chair next to Killian’s bed holding the remote.
“Hi!” he beams.
“What are you doing here? You should be in school!”
“It’s a PD day.”
“What? No it’s not. Mary Margaret went in this morning.”
“Yeah,” he answers in that ‘duh, mom’ tone she’s sure will only get worse as he gets older. “Teachers still work. We get the day off.”
“Okay, but what are you doing here?” she asks, looking between him and the man who may or may not be crazy - who may or may not be prone to violent outbursts - the man who is sitting very still and silent as she interrogates her son.
“I wanted to see Killian. And you wouldn’t let me, so I came myself.” Killian. They’re on a first name basis already.
Emma sighs, pinching her temples between her thumb and middle finger. “Does Regina know you’re here?”
“Yes,” he says quickly and she raises a brow at him.
“You remember I know when I’m being lied to, right?” Henry looks slightly abashed and Killian cocks his head in interest. “Where’s your mom, kid?”
“She’s at work,” he shrugs.
“Hang on,” Killian interrupts, frowning between the two of them. “You said the Sheriff was your mother.”
“She is. I have two moms. Regina adopted me, but she’s actually the Evil Queen and she trapped everyone here. Emma’s my real mom and she’s here to break the curse. Only she can tell about the lies though. Regina believes what she wants to.”
The man looks at her now for an explanation. “It’s complicated.”
“Right. The lad came looking for you. He asked to wait here until you arrived.”
Emma narrows her eyes at Henry, knowing he absolutely didn’t come here looking for her. Henry only smiles sheepishly. “Henry, Killian needs his rest. You can’t just come in and -”
“But he’s not in the book!”
“What?” Kilian frowns again.
Emma gives Henry another look and he shuts his mouth before what was definitely going to be another rant about the curse and the storybook.
Killian clears his throat. “I don’t mind,” he says softly. “I thought it was better he be here than out on his own… Your son was just showing me how to work the black story box.”
If Emma keeps frowning like this she’s going to end up with permanent wrinkles. “You mean the TV?” He’s never seen a TV before? Both of them nod and Emma shakes her head. She’ll tackle that weird development later. “Come on,” she says, reaching her hand out to Henry. “We gotta get you home before Regina finds out you’re gone and tries to kill me.”
“But mom -”
“Henry…”
“Please? I promise I’ll go home before she does!”
“I have to ask Killian some questions about what happened to him, kid. This is work.” The man raises a brow at the mention of his name.
“I’ll be quiet,” he swears. Yeah right.
Emma looks at the man in the hospital bed who gives her a small shrug and she sighs. “Fine.” Her son beams and it almost makes it worth how much she’s going to regret this. “One hour. Then you’re going home.” She pulls up another chair, sitting next to Henry who is already reaching into his bag for his storybook.
“Did you remember anything new?” she asks Killian hesitantly. “About what happened that night?”
“Only that I went looking for the Crocodile. And I found him.” He looks away, gaze darkening even as Henry perks up beside him.
“You did? What happened?”
He stares at his blunted wrist for a long moment before answering quietly. “It doesn’t matter. The boy lied. It was all for naught.”
“What was?” He doesn’t answer and she tries to bite back her frustration. “So he’s in town?”
“Aye.”
“Where?”
“I told you it doesn’t matter.”
“Is he in the Lovell house?” Henry jumps in.
“The what?”
“The Lovell house. The big fancy broken down one. That’s where Mom found you, right?”
“Aye,” he says again, tone softening as he turns to her. “I remember that.”
“Maybe it was a ghost,” her kid continues.
Killian is fighting a smile as he asks, “a ghost?”
“Yeah. Everyone knows the place is haunted.”
“Henry. That’s just an old local legend. I’ve heard about five different versions of it since I got here.”
“He hasn’t.”
Killian seems more inclined to humour her son than she is. “What legend?”
“They say there used to be a family who lived there, like two hundred years ago.” Emma wants to point out that the town isn’t even that old but fights the urge when she sees how lit up he is telling his story. “They were very rich and had three kids. Or four depending on the version.”
“Which is your favourite?”
Henry grins. “They had four kids. But the oldest one died when he was still little, before the others were born.” Emma nearly groans. Of course her son likes the creepiest version of the ghost story most. The fact that he doesn’t get nightmares - that anyone thought it was a good idea to tell this version to a ten year old - is startling.
“So there were three left. But the fourth kid, the first kid, didn’t like that his parents had new kids and that they’d replaced him. And he didn’t want to leave or give up his family.” Killian nods obligingly. “So they say that one night, the parents went out and the kids were left at home and the ghost of the first son came back and convinced the other three to climb out the window - the one way up at the top of the tower -” he emphasises. “So that they could play together forever.”
The expression that crosses Killian’s face makes Emma pause even as Henry continues to tell the bit about how the parents came home and found them and there were now four ghost children. There’s a recognition in his eyes, like he’s heard this story before, and his expression which had been amused falls, that same look there again as in the cafeteria, dread.
“The parents abandoned the house and nobody ever took it over. But they say that sometimes, you can still see the shadow of the Lovell kids’ ghost in the window, and that if you go up there, they’ll drag you right out of it.”
“It’s just an old ghost story,” Emma cuts in quickly when she sees the way Killian’s hand fist at his side, knuckles going white. “That was made up to keep kids from going into a dangerous, condemned building.” Although, if anything, it’s encouraged kids to go up there - on dares, to prove themselves. His breathing is shallow, shoulders tensed and Emma puts her hand over his, almost jumping back when he flinches before recognizing her. “It’s not real.”
He swallows, nodding but still not focused. He’s somewhere else and she’s not sure how to pull him back. “I think you told your story a little too well, kid.”
“Sorry,” Henry says bashfully and Emma can finally feel the fingers in her grip beginning to relax. “It really is just a scary story… Nobody really believes it.”
“I think maybe he could use some cocoa, what do you think?” Emma asks then, her son nodding. “Think you can go get him some?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be right back,” and hurries out the door.
She turns back to Killian, curling her fingers around his and placing another hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He takes a heavy breath, shaky, and then another, more even, nodding, a little more certain. “It really is a creepy story.” But there’s more to it, she knows there is from the way he looks at her. “You mentioned before, about a boy, and the little girls. Did the story…”
“Aye,” he agrees and she’s relieved to hear him speak.
“I’m sorry. Does having Henry here make you uncomfortable?” she ventures.
He shakes his head. “No. He’s a good lad.”
“And these people, the ones who did those horrible things, are they…”
“Not here,” he sighs, like it’s finally hitting him for the first time, the relief so immense she can see it like a wave, releasing his muscles one at a time as it rolls through him. “At least not now.”
But before she can ask him what he means by that, Henry returns with a plastic cup clutched carefully in his hand.
“Here,” he says by way of apology. “The machine was broken, but I swiped some jello off a tray.” He hands Killian the cup who slips his fingers from beneath hers to take it, inspecting the wobbly blue contents, poking at it with the spoon Henry stuck inside.
“Thank you.” Killian takes tentative bite, making and then hiding a face that Emma almost snorts at, realising he must not be a sweet-tooth kinda guy.
“Everyone likes Jello,” Henry declares with the certainty of a ten year old who would eat sugar with a spoon if he was allowed.
“I feel better already.” He sets it down, pretty far away.
“Maybe it’s time to get you home,” she suggests. “Give Killian some time to rest.” To her surprise, Henry agrees, getting his bag and putting his book inside. “You’ll be alright without us?” He nods. “Smith has my phone number. He can call me if anything changes.” Killian looks horribly confused but she’s not sure which bit she needs to explain.
“Bye, Killian,” Henry waves. “Thanks for letting me hang out!” The man smiles fondly at him, something melancholic in his eye that tugs at her heart and she wonders if he has children - if he ever did.
“Let’s go,” she says, wrapping her arm around her son’s shoulders, and giving Killian her own wave.
“Henry!” he calls suddenly right as they’re about to leave, making Emma jump. His eyes are unsettled again, not frantic like they were when he heard the story, but sombre and disquiet. There’s a long, weighted pause before he warns, “Stay away from that house.”
Her son stares at him for a long moment, both of them stoic, something she can’t understand passing between them, until finally, Henry nods solemnly.
***
“Have you looked at the Lovell house?” Henry asks as they make their way across town to Regina’s. “For like, clues and stuff?”
Emma shakes her head. “No. I found him out back. And I was inside the house that night. He wasn’t there.”
“Why were you there?” He eyes her suspiciously, like she’s working on some covert operation without him.
“Breaking up a party.”
“Did you see any ghosts?”
She half smiles. “You think I’d see a ghost and not tell you?”
Henry looks pleased, then concerned as he asks, “The story really scared him, huh? Do you think he saw a ghost when he was there?”
“He wasn’t in there,” she reminds him. “And I don’t think it was the ghosts that scared him…”
“What do you mean?”
Emma shrugs, not sure how to explain something she doesn’t even fully understand to her ten year old. “I think it had something to do with the kids being taken away.”
“Why would he be scared of that?” he asks, brow pulling down in a confused frown.
“Because… Sometimes when people have really bad things happen to them, they get scared of stuff that reminds them of it, even if they’re safe now. Does that make sense?”
Henry nods thoughtfully. “Is that why he was scared of me?”
“Of you?” He only nods and Emma thinks back to the other day, when he’d pulled a sword on her, when he’d swung around and seen Henry there, how he’d frozen. “Why do you think he was afraid of you?”
“He jumped out of bed and ran across the room when I woke him up.”
“When you…” She sighs, pinching her temples again. “Henry, you can’t just go waking hospital patients up. Of course you scared him.”
Henry shakes his head. “It wasn’t just that. He…” he frowns looking for words to explain emotions beyond his comprehension. “He looked like Graham. After I showed him the book.”
Graham’s name slices through her sharply, all the pain of his loss coming back at once for a moment, nearly cutting her in half with the grief. Her fingers find the boot laces wrapped around her wrist, remembering that horrible, final moment when he’d collapsed in her arms, dead before he hit the ground. She often wonders if she could have changed things, if she’d paid attention when he’d come to her the days before, when he’d gone to Henry for help because nobody else would listen. Maybe she can avoid repeating the same mistake.
“What happened?” Her voice is weaker than she’d like and she hopes he can’t hear it.
“I asked if he’d seen you and told him you were my mom,” he shrugs. “Then I asked if I could wait there for you and he said okay. I still can’t figure out who he is though,” he adds, right back into Operation Cobra. “I’ll check the book again tonight,” Henry promises as they reach the Mayor’s house, shouting “bye, Mom!” running around the back to sneak in.
Emma makes her way back down the street, planning to spend the day canvassing the neighbourhood for new leads. She can’t shake the image of Killian’s face from her mind, or the thought that she’s missing something, something big. It feels like some huge, obvious piece of the puzzle is missing and she just can’t find it. Who is he and where did he come from? Who was he running from?
Something happened that night and someone in Storybrooke must have seen or heard something. This town is too small for no one to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. This could be the first time everyone’s nose being in everyone else’s business might be a good thing.
She’s into her millionth hour of going door to door, the sun starting to get low in the sky - she really needs to hire a deputy - nobody having seen anything strange apart from Leroy. He’d grumbled about a boat being moored at the docks in the middle of the night which wasn’t there in the morning. She’s there looking for any sign of the boat when she gets the phone call.
“Sheriff?” It’s Smith, his voice sounds hesitant.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly. “The patient, he’s uh, he’s asking for you.”
“Why? Is everything okay?”
“I think so. I mean, nobody showed up and he didn’t try to run away. He says he wants to talk to you.”
“Did you ask him about what?”
“Yeah. But he just asked if I was ‘a golden haired, tempestuous sheriff in a red leather jacket’,” he quotes. “Guy’s got a hell of an attitude.” Emma tries to fight her smile.
“I’ll be right there.”
***
“Swan,” he greets her when she gets to the hospital room. He’s standing next to the bed where she left him and she’s relieved that he’s holding up his promise not to try to escape again. His face is twisted in a grimace as he tries to contort his body. “Bloody thing. Bloody ribs,” he mutters.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get this damnable robe off. It’s sweltering.”
“What? Does leather breathe better?” She starts to laugh as he struggles but then stops herself when he shifts and lets out a small groan of pain, hand coming to his ribs as he clenches his teeth. “Here, let me help,” she insists, coming over to help him shrug the thing off carefully.
She can hear the smirk in his voice even as she stands behind him. “I knew you were desperate to undress me.” The fact that he can flirt with her while struggling to get out of a hospital bathrobe is astounding and she shakes her head. As she slides the sleeve off his arm though, she can’t help but notice the tattoo on above his wrist. Milah.
“Okay, Cassanova. I think they need to adjust your pain meds,” she points out when she notices him wincing again, his arms finally free.
“Killian.”
“What?”
“Killian, not Cassanova,” he corrects her.
“No, that’s not - he’s… Nevermind.”
She helps him back onto the bed, the groan he lets out making her worry. “Thank you,” he says as the pain starts to ease from his brow.
“Okay?” she asks and he nods.
The TV is still on, some soap opera playing in the background. She raises a brow. “You figured the TV out?”
“Aye,” he says. “Your boy showed me how to work it but I lost the bloody device that turns it off.”
“I can do that for you,” she offers, moving to get up and turn it off manually.
“No, no,” he says quickly and she pauses. “I’m interested to know if the gentleman will wake from his coma in time to find out he’s the child’s father… What?” he asks when she bites her lip hard against the laugh that wants to bust out.
“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “I just didn’t peg you as a soap fan.”
“Excuse you, I bathe quite frequently actually,” he insists. Then his tone switches from offended to flirtatious once again. “Though if you’re offering to help,” he raises a brow.
Emma rolls her eyes again. “The show is called a soap. Stands for a soap opera.”
Killian hums, giving her a well practised smirk. “Hmm, well the offer still stands if you’re so inclined,” he suggests, leaning towards her and she has a quip ready to throw back at him but he’s suddenly crying out and laying back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and gasping in pain.
“I’ll get the nurse to come adjust your meds.”
“Don’t bother,” he breathes out roughly. “I’ve lived through worse than this,” he tells her, raising his left wrist.
“Doesn’t mean you have to again. Let me -”
“Don’t,” he says more firmly. “I want my mind clear.”
Emma frowns at him. “What for?” she asks, sitting down in her chair.
“The house from your boy’s story, I’d like you to take me there.”
That catches her off guard. She settles her elbows on her knees, eyes him. “Why? What do you think you’ll find there?”
“Answers,” he says soberly.
“Answers to what?” He presses his mouth into a hard line. “You can’t keep avoiding my questions forever, Killian,” she sighs, growing frustrated. “If you want to get out of here, you’ve got to give me something.”
“I thought I wasn’t your prisoner.”
“I’m the only reason you’re not a prisoner right now,” she almost snaps. “So just… tell me why I should keep helping you. I want to keep helping you, but I can’t if you don’t help me.” He’s silent again, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, face unreadable. So she pushes. “Who’s Milah?” His face hardens, jaw tensing and nostrils flaring and Emma almost regrets asking.
“Someone from long ago.”
“What happened to her?”
Killian’s hand goes to his wrist, fingers pressing into the scarred tissue as her own had with Graham’s bracelet and she knows before he answers that she died. “He took her.”
“Who did?”
“The bastard who took my hand.”
“The Crocodile?” she guesses, realising she’s finally getting somewhere.
He nods, expression darkening. “I came to this land to kill him,” he confesses. “But he got the better of me.” This Land? Storybrooke? America? Every answer brings up a hundred more questions.
“How?”
“Magic.” The word is like a blow to her chest. Magic, like the magic Henry insists is real from his storybook. There has to be some explanation. He can’t mean that he really thinks… “The boy promised he’d be powerless here,” Killian continues. “That this realm had no magic. But he lied, and now he thinks he can take me back. But he can’t. That wasn’t our agreement.”
“Killian.” He looks at her finally. “Who is the Crocodile?”
“The Dark One,” he spits. “The most powerful sorcerer to ever live. I’ve hunted the bloody coward for nearly three hundred years trying to find a way to destroy him.”
Her heart is racing. Shit. Shit. All of it, the Crocodile, the people after him, it’s all… “What about the Boy? The one who said he’d help?”
“The demon child who’s been the bane of my existence these last three centuries. Everyone yields his command. Even the bloody sea bends to his whims.There’s no escaping him - but I did,” he says harshly, fist clenching.
“Who’s everyone?” she ventures, a last, desperate grab at some sort of explanation, something other than his having lost his mind completely.
“The boys, the mermaids, even the fae are powerless against him.” Fuck.
“And why do you think you’ll find answers at the Lovell house?”
“The shadow. There are places that his shadow is drawn to. If I can catch it, then I can stop him - from ever coming here again, from ever dragging me back.”
Emma feels as though a hole has been dug in her chest, an empty, hollow place where her hope used to be, her belief in him and the idea that she could fix this. Now there’s nothing but disappointment, but a dull ache. Mary Margaret was right. She can see it in his eyes now, he hasn’t lied. He believes every word of the insane story he’s just told her.
She nods, placing her hand on his arm. “I’ll help you,” she promises, and his relief breaks her heart. “I just need to step out for a sec, okay? Check on something.”
The walk to the door feels long, horrible, the weight of everything that’s happened this week heavy on her shoulders as she shuts it behind her and turns to Smith. “Get some orderlies up from the basement, tell them to get a room ready. Quickly.”
He doesn’t ask questions, only radios someone as she stands silently next to him and waits the five minutes it takes for four broad shouldered, heavily built men in white scrubs to find her. “He’s in here,” she tells them, her own voice sounding far away to her ears as she leads them inside.
“Swan?” he asks, shoulders tensing as the men follow her inside. “What are you doing?” She can hear the doubt in his voice, the undertone of panic, then she sees the anger flare in his eyes as the men approach him. “Unhand me!” he shouts at them. “Swan!” she doesn’t answer and his voice becomes sharply cold in its steadiness. “You said I could trust you.”
“I’m just trying to help you, I promise,” she says weakly, his words ripping into her and tearing out pieces she didn’t know he’d left behind. “But, Killian, none of this is real. You have to realise that.”
“You’re making a mistake. Look at me,” he snaps, an edge of desperation in his voice as the men get him to his feet, his eyes almost pleading with her. “Have I told you a lie?”
Her heart breaks again. “Just because you believe something is real, doesn’t mean it is.”
She sees the moment he shuts down, whatever bond or trust had been built between them eviscerated as he looks at her with a coldness she’s only seen reserved for the monsters from his fantasies. “You’ll regret this, Swan,” he warns, struggling once more to free himself from the orderlies’ grasp, face twisting in pain before he glares at her. “Mark my words. You’ll regret it.”
****
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A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
“Sheriff Swan.” Regina walks into her office like she owns the place, not bothering to knock. “Where’s my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well he’s not at home so I assume he must have snuck off to do something ill-conceived with you as that seems to always be the case.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen Henry since the weekend.” In fact, he’d told her that they needed to hold off on Operation Cobra because his mom was getting suspicious. She knows though that it’s because he’s mad at her. He has been since she had to tell him she had Killian committed. And he’s been avoiding her. “Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?” Emma demands as Regina’s face grows from smug and annoyed to concerned. “It’s after seven!”
“He didn’t come home from school. I just assumed… He’s probably with a friend.” Emma wants to snap at her. Even when Henry is concerned she can’t back down, needs to be right rather than admit she screwed up and needs help.
“He doesn’t have any friends - at least none his own age,” she reminds the woman, even though it’s painful to say. It’s Regina’s fault Henry never befriended any of the kids at school. How could he, with a terrifying mother who kept him under lock and key? “Did you check his castle?”
“No. I came straight here.”
Emma grabs her keys off the desk. “You go check the park. I’ll go to Granny’s and see if he’s been there.” She may hate the woman, but this is Henry. It seems Regina’s willing to put their mutual distaste aside for this as well since she shockingly agrees and follows her out to her own car.
“Call me if you find him,” the Mayor orders and Emma nods, demanding the same courtesy in return.
She reaches Granny’s quickly, both the owner and Ruby hurrying over to her when she walks in and she realises she must look as worried as she feels. “Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”
Granny shakes her head. “No. But he was here earlier pouring over the storybook and a couple others.”
“Which books?” Knowing her kid, wherever he is it probably has something to do with the damn curse.
“I’m not sure. Kids books from the looks of them. Ruby, you served him.”
Ruby shrugs apologetically. “It was busy. But yeah they looked like regular kids books - fairy tales and stuff. One had a picture of a ship in it. I only remember because he covered it when I came up to him.”
“A ship?” Ruby nods. “Maybe he went down to the docks?”
“Hey Leroy!” Granny calls and the gruff, stout man looks up in annoyance. “You see the Mills boy today?”
“Why would I be hanging around with kids? I ain’t a babysitter.”
“You’re looking for Henry?” David walks over to them, a tray of takeout cups in his hand. “Is he okay?”
“He’s missing. Have you seen him?”
“He came by the animal shelter about an hour ago. Wanted to know if we’d found any crocodiles.”
@donteattheappleshook Wow, this one left me just as on the edge of my seat as the last one!! I’m dying to know what happens next!! I know that crafting something this good takes time, but I am going to be so anxiously awaiting your next installment. I love how I feel like we’re piecing it together and we have some clues and suppositions to how things connect and what is going on, but you still have me wondering what is going on exactly at the same time. Is Pan there? Or is Gold involved in what happened to Henry instead? What will happen to Hook if he helps Emma and returns to Neverland? All of it is just swirling around in questions and guesses and intrigue, and it just keeps me glued to your every word!
Still, you never lose the emotion or the characterization despite the amazing plot you have going. That is seen particularly in Emma’s conversation with Henry, both at Killian’s cell and then out in the street. You feel so much for both of them and where each one is coming from, and also how true to both characters they are written. We see it again when Emma confronts Regina outside Gold’s shop, and in Hook’s manner when Emma comes to beg his help. You write all of them so well, and it adds so much impact to your tale. I only hope they can get to “him” - whoever Hook believes to have taken Henry - in time. I’ll be waiting with bated breath!
I finally had a chance to read your lovely reviews. Thank you as always for your lovely words I’m on holiday for 2 weeks and I can’t write but I’ll get you more chapters soon
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken by what Emma swears (but can’t believe) was a shadow, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
Thank you @the-darkdragonfly for helping me figure out what the hell is even happening in this fic and thank you @elizabeethan for letting me complain and virtually shout ideas at you <3
***
Part 3
Emma glances up over her phone at the man lying motionless on the hospital bed, wrist firmly secured to the railing with her cuffs. The cuffs that Whale had refused to let her take off him, right before he’d refused to let her leave the hospital while ‘that psycho’ was still in here. Take him to a jail cell or stay here with him; I don’t care. But I’m not taking responsibility for him! the doctor had insisted, rubbing gingerly at his neck, his eyes nearly as crazed as his patient’s had been a moment before.
She’d taken a look at him, the bruising and the dried blood - he needed a hospital, not a cell. And so here she is, nearly three hours later, curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair, switching between apps on her cell while she waits for this guy to wake up. She could have sworn she saw him move or heard him make a noise but as she watches him still as the dead, she knows it was just wishful thinking. Whatever was in that syringe really did a number on him.
Groaning, Emma looks at her watch. She wonders if she’ll have to spend the night here. Maybe the Sheriff’s station would have been a better idea after all. At least there she could have gone home and taken a nap or at least used the cot Graham had kept in the back. The hardest part had been convincing Henry to go home - even after Regina had shown up and chewed her out for putting her son’s life in danger. Emma hadn’t bothered to explain that she’d explicitly told Henry not to come.
“You let him run wild while there was a violent madman with a knife on the loose?” she’d demanded.
“It was a scalpel-” Emma corrected somewhat under her breath.
@donteattheappleshook Sheesh! I wish I weren’t three whole chapters behind, but I am hoping to do my best at getting caught up tonight. You do such a good job with this one in particular of grounding Emma very much in the here and now. She doesn’t believe in magic and fairy tale villains and all of that yet, but -practical as she is - she also believes that this stranger believes what he is telling her. She can sense this injured (and maybe crazy, to her mind at least) man is telling the truth, and she is genuinely trying to help him. And that scene where he was trying to help the little girl, and Emma stepped in to defuse things? She could see that he was genuinely worried and wanted to protect the child, even if his methods were off. I just really like the way you are portraying her in this, and I am really enjoying revisiting your story’s version of this timeframe I’m the show as well!
It really gets me when you give us those little moments where Emma breaks through to him, and she sees the pain and trauma he has been through, sees the fear that is also deep in his psyche. She doesn’t know who this “Crocodile” or “The Boy” are- but she can tell they are dangerous. That feeling of being kindred with him, or sensing they have something deep in is really nicely woven throughout this chapter as well. I am still very much curious and anxious to find out how Killian was hurt in this story verse, and if “the Crocodile” was behind it. Or is Pan there in Storybrooke? (That would be really bad! ) I am definitely worried about MM’s suggestion that Emma go to Gold with her search for who these people might be…
I’m going to try to rein in my rambling so I can read the next chapters as well, but as ever, you are telling an amazing story, and I really do love it!!
GASP! A Marta reblog!!
Thank you so much for the lovely words @snowbellewells You always make my day
