A/N: Hi all. I've decided to start this while we are on hiatus between the first and second part of season three. This story starts when Emma and Henry go to New York, but I plan to make it very much my own.

Disclaimer: This story is mine, but I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

This chapter's rating: K-T for mild language and innuendo; but rating will go up to M later on.

Prologue

There wasn't a need for stealth from either man as they continued toward the town line, wrapped in the darkness and quiet of the night. Had an outsider been standing anywhere near the perimeter of the town the two men had walked from, they would have seen only inhospitable terrain, the lonely road surrounded by weeds and marsh.

To anyone else, the town and its recent adventures simply did not exist.

The more cautious of the pair slowed his pace to a halt; his boots shuffled the last of the autumn leaves as he looked up at the sign marked "Leaving Storybrooke." He sighed and the sound resonated around them in the silence.

"I'm quite certain this is the worst of your ideas so far," he stated, looking out to the horizon where the road out of the town vanished into obscurity. "And that's really saying something considering all the stunts you've pulled over the past year."

The second man was hunched over, grazing his calloused hand over the painted line that marked the border between Storybrooke and the rest of the world. The question pulled him from his reverie, as he looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"You don't know the half of it, mate."

In the moonlight, the pirate's playfulness was obvious, but not shared by his companion. Hook clasped his partner on the shoulder and chuckled knowingly.

"Relax, Robin. If Regina says it will work, then it will."

Giving him another wide grin, the pirate reached into his front coat pocket and pulled out a small vial. Turning it in his hand, he inspected it closely.

"Still," Hook said as he raised his brow, "this would be the perfect opportunity to enact her revenge on me after that magic-inhibiting cuff incident."

Robin finally cracked a smile at this and shook his head, the chorus of crickets chirping the only sound around them.

"I don't think she will ever truly forgive you for that."

Hook seemed appalled by this, looking up from the vile.

"Her forgive me? The woman left me to die down in that bloody cave!"

"There are certainly two versions of that story," Robin reflected aloud, pulling the hood over his head as the chilly wind picked up.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Hook pocketed the vile again. After he reached into his jacket, Hook pulled out a flask and offered it to his friend. With a nod of appreciation, Robin uncorked the container and took a long swig, allowing the rum to warm him up before passing it back.

After a moment of shared silence, Robin spoke again, this time more serious.

"I can't help but be concerned, after what happened to Neal."

Hook shrugged and then returned the flask to his coat, the leather rustling in the quiet night.

"The physician said he will recover as soon as we escape this ruddy place," his voice was strained despite his casual posture.

Robin's words were like a quiet plea, reaching out to the universe in hopes of obtaining the answer to their dilemma.

"And that's the problem isn't it? According to Whale, trying to leave here is what landed him in a hospital bed to begin with."

Hook's slight grimace was gone as quickly as it had appeared, his features now thoughtful. "Yeah, well, he was trying to get to Emma." His words were steady and his expression softened before he continued. "And that I can certainly understand."

Robin moved closer and placed a hand on Hook's shoulder, lowering his voice slightly.

"Do you think you can get her to remember?"

The pirate took a deep breath, allowing the surrounding smell of pine to fill his lungs, and then grabbed the vial again, before peering over at Robin.

"I have to, mate. She's the only one who can help Regina before she faces off against this evil hag."

Hook drew the vial up to his lips with a smug expression on his face. "Then the War of the Wenches can truly commence."

He noticed Robin shoot him a glare before drinking the potion, pausing afterward as if waiting for a visible effect. After a few seconds, both men relaxed and Hook turned to face Robin again.

"Well Jones, good luck to you. Our fate rests in your han- well... rather, on your shoulders."

Hook reached out and accepted his hand, giving Robin a lazy grin.

"Then have no fear, my friend."

Hook turned, and walked a few paces to the edge of the town line, before he glanced over his shoulder and shouted.

"Please give my thanks to your betrothed for not poisoning me."

Hook didn't see Robin roll his eyes or the barrier shield turn a hazy purple, as he stepped over the border, and into the darkness that led to their salvation.

Chapter 1

Emma Swan felt like she was home.

That was the first thought that came to her mind, after being jolted awake by the crack of lightening.

Squinting, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly-lit quarters of a ship. For some reason, Emma knew she had been here many times before, but seemed to be struggling with the details of how she ended up here now.

Getting her bearings, Emma sat up, and quickly realized it a mistake. A jabbing pain struck the back of her head and she winced, gingerly feeling a bump that had formed there.

Ok, how did that happen?

Slowly regaining herself, Emma pulled her legs off of the bunk and onto the creaky wooden floor below. She took a moment to absorb her surroundings, noticing her jacket draped over a nearby desk chair, her boots sitting nearby.

I don't remember taking those off…

Pulling both articles back on, she took a brief moment to recognize a certain scent lingering on her jacket. It, too, seemed so familiar.

It was likely that she had too much to drink last night, since it was a common way for her to fight off stress. But how did she end up on the ship without any memory of stepping foot there in the first place?

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another flssh of lightening, and the rumble of thunder that followed, echoing through the small space. The storm was getting closer.

Emma stood up and staggered as the ship lurched sideways, its structure groaning under the crash of what must have been a massive wave.

Wait, a massive wave? She wasn't just on a ship. She was on a ship at sea.

What the hell was going on?

She could hear the frantic shouts of various men above deck, but their words indistinguishable. Even with the small fire crackling in the fireplace to provide light, Emma still had to reach out and brace herself on the smooth, glossy walls to find her way through the dark cabin. The ship swayed again, and propelled her forward, as her hand brushed against a brass knob that she knew to be the exit.

She swung open the door, and it hit the hallway wall with a loud bang, gravity doing its part. As she regained her balance, Emma noticed the faint aroma of spice on her jacket again.

Hesitant to leave the feeling of comfort in the cabin, Emma stepped into the hallway and prepared to ascend the staircase to the top deck, before a scream reached her ears. It was faint, but desperate, and not that of a man.

Although seemingly in the distance, Emma was sure that she had heard a person cry out, and for some reason, it too, sounded eerily familiar.

The buzz of the alarm clock was mind-numbingly loud, and Emma it awoke immediately. She reached out to silence the annoying device reading 8:15am, her daze having less to do with sleep, and more to do with the aftermath of the recent dream she just had.

Seriously Emma? A pirate ship…and the screaming, too. Where had all of that come from?

Emma quickly racked her brain, trying to make a connection that would explain such an unusual dream. She and Henry had watched Pirates of the Caribbean a few weeks ago, but she couldn't see why it would be affecting her subconscious now.

Although more lifelike than any she has ever had, this was just one in a long line of unusual dreams that had taken place over the past year.

Henry had admitted to her that he's had odd dreams of his own, but they were never frightening or overly bizarre. They usually involved his favorite fairytale characters, with him as the conquering hero.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder why it had started around the same time for the both of them; about a year ago. There hadn't been any major changes in their lives to warrant such effects, and it weighed heavily on her mind.

Wiping the sweat from cheeks, Emma sighed and stepped out of bed, before she pulled on her pajama top and matching pants. Shuffling over to her slippers, Emma allowed the cashmere lining to hug her toes, humming at the comfort they provided.

Yawning wide, she made her way down the hall to Henry's room and rapped her knuckles against the wood, shouting to her son.

"Wake up, Kiddo."

As she turned toward the kitchen, she was surprised when his door opened immediately, his smiling face greeting her.

"Morning Mom!"

Henry's enthusiasm was so contagious, that Emma answered him with a smile of her own.

"Good morning. Well, that was fast."

Henry shrugged on his long-sleeved shirt, as he moved past her and into the living room, the legs of his pajama pants dragging the floor.

"I was already awake."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, as Emma entered the kitchen; and opened the fridge to get out the eggs and milk. Because it was Saturday, they were able to eat a little later, the morning sun now leaking traces of light into their modern apartment.

Cracking another eggshell against the bowl, Emma plopped them in with the rest of the contents. She heard Henry turn on their Saturday morning play list, Lou Reed's voice reaching her ears.

Pouring the whisked eggs into the hot skillet, the mixture sizzled instantly. Emma turned to see Henry watering the plants in front of the picture window, while the distant clouds loomed in the distance. She couldn't help but smile, recognizing how mature he was becoming.

Despite having to grow up without his father, her son had blossomed into a bright and dedicated young man. The two of them had struggled at first, but he never wavered in his determination to help her. It seemed like he had figured out at a very young age that his father's absence meant more responsibility on his part.

She and Henry were alike that way. Although he hadn't grown up alone like she had, they both did not have childhoods in the traditional sense.

Still, Emma had tried to make life as normal as possible for him. Weeks filled with movie and taco nights, ice cream runs on Sunday afternoons, and frequent trips to the amusement park on Coney Island, gave her the sense of normalcy she had always wanted. In the sharing of Henry's joy at being a kid, if only for those few moments, she herself was able to enjoy the childhood memories that were denied her.

For the second time that morning, Emma was startled; this time, to the sound of knocking at their front door. Henry glanced up at her from his breakfast.

"Someone coming over?"

Emma shook her head, her brow frowning in confusion. "No…" she replied. Josef wasn't supposed to meet her until tonight, and it wasn't like him to show up without a text or call first.

Another series of knocks, this time harder, and they sounded almost desperate. Her eyes widening, she bid Henry to stay at the table and headed for the door. Emma turned off the music on her way there, and reached for the white-washed door, pausing a minute before she turned the knob.

Ok, wow.

She didn't recognize the man standing on the other side of the door but he was looking at her as if they've known each other for years. Surely, Emma would have remembered a face like this one.

His eyes drew her in first; blue like a June sky and bright enough to light the darkest of rooms. His thinly-shaped lips were perfectly framed by a strong jaw line, and wrapped in somewhat untidy, but oddly attractive scruff. Transfixed at how striking his features were, Emma did her best not to stare too long and waited for him to speak first.

"Swan," the word coming out of him like rough velvet.

Oh great, he has an accent too.

She had always been a sucker for an accent. But how does this man know her name? Emma quickly regained her composure, and attempted to place him from somewhere.

Suddenly, he moved to brush past her into the apartment. "At last-" His words are cut off as she quickly moved her arm out, creating a barrier between them.

"Whoa, do I know you?" He seemed taken aback, but only briefly, as a look of understanding now flashed onto his face.

Did this guy really just try to come into my apartment uninvited?

In his failed attempt, she had caught a whiff of him, the smell of leather and some kind of spice. And... was that alcohol?

He's probably another drunk looking for money.

The man was staring directly into her eyes now; his voice deep, and much steadier. "I need your help- something terrible has happened."

Well, he was certainly selling his sob story.

She let him continue, though, his hand now reaching forward to her slightly.

"Your family is in trouble."

Family? Her only family was in the other room munching on pancakes.

"Who are you?" Her voice got sterner, edging on threatening.

He answered like he had a secret to tell. "An old friend," he said. The man took a second to pause before he continued. "Look, I know you don't remember me, but…" he edged closer, his chest meeting her outstretched palm. Oddly allowed him to advance, letting her guard down for only a moment.

"I can make you."

Before she could react, his hand was behind her head, fingers lacing into her hair, and eliminating the small gap between them. As his mouth closed over hers, Emma had only a second to acknowledge the softness of his lips, warm and surprisingly gentle, contrasting to the roughness of his stubble.

Without giving him warning, her knee collided with his groin. His grunt of pain gave her a brief sense of satisfaction, and he doubled over, slumping against the opposite hallway wall.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice displaying equal parts of baffled and offended, as the weirdo caught his breath.

The guy actually had the audacity to look guilty, before he choked out his reply. "Long shot," he managed to say, grimacing. "I thought you felt as I did."

This guy was a piece of work, alright.

Emma shot him a death glare, backing into her apartment, and moved to shut the door. "The only thing you're going to feel are the handcuffs when I call the cops."

He started to speak again, but she cut him off by slamming the door in his face. It took a few moments for Emma to collect herself, before she headed back over toward Henry.

Did that actually just happen?

She's never seen the guy in her life, but his pleas were so desperate, the words he spoke almost genuine- like they've known each other a lifetime. How can someone grab a stranger and kiss them like that, as if their life depended on it? The guy must be absolutely hammered, and yet…his scent. That scent was so familiar somehow.

"Who was that?" Henry turned to her, plunging a fork full of pancake into his mouth. His question had pulled her out of a daze, and she dismissed the event with a shrug, trying to sound casual.

"No idea. Let's eat."

Throughout most of her breakfast with Henry, Emma wasn't able to shake the feeling that she was missing something. She had always prided herself on what Henry deemed her "superpower" of detecting a lie, or even when something was amiss. It certainly came in handy with Henry, as he tended to be on the mischievous side when he wanted something; a trait he got from both parents.

Neal. Henry was so much like his father that it almost scared her. Beyond the dark hair and big eyes, his facial expressions, and toothy grin; her son had Neal's ability to get you to see the world the way he did, whether you wanted to or not.

As much as it hurt to look at him and see the man who broke her heart over twelve years ago, Henry was a constant reminder that good things can come out of a terrible experience.

He was her happing ending.

All the more reason for her to figure out what the events of that morning meant, and why she felt they were important somehow. The handsome lunatic dressed in black leather claimed they were "friends" before he had tried to molest her in her pajamas, but Emma was sure she would have remembered a face and voice like his.

The ding of the elevator brought her back to reality, as she and Henry entered the lobby. They made their way to out into the street as she felt the sprinkle of rain on her face.

"Are you staying with your friend tonight like we talked about," she asked him, as Henry extended the umbrella, so that they could huddle under it.

"That's the plan. Levi says his mom is going to take us to that new laser tag arena," the boy exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement. Emma smiled and pulled her library book closer to her body, as the rain came down around them.

"You don't have to stay the night if you don't want to," Emma told him, her boot splashing into a puddle. "I'm going to see Josef's exhibit, and then we're doing dinner at seven. I won't be out too late."

Henry's pursed his lips in annoyance, his eyes lazily turning up to meet hers. "I don't want you to have to cut your date short to come and get me."

Emma did her best not to roll her eyes. "It's not a date; it's only dinner with a friend, who I've known for awhile now."

Henry may have acquired some of her superpower ability, as he gave her a knowing look. Emma kept her poise, though, as she glanced over at her son.

"Josef has been working really hard on this project, and I want to show my support."

The boy remained quiet, as a chorus of honking of cars and city noise surrounding them; and they rounded the corner to where her yellow bug was parked.

"Besides, you and I still need to finish our Star Wars marathon, remember?"

Henry's ears seemed to perk up at that, as adventure was his favorite muse. "Oh yeah, that's right!"

They tried to take a trip to the library at least once a week, since Emma wanted him to enjoy reading as much as television. He also had taken a keen interest in fairytales lately, which could explain some of the dreams he was having.

Of course, that didn't explain her dreams, but she was working that one out on her own.

Clutching one of her psychological self-help books on dreams and past memories closer to her side, Emma took the umbrella from Henry, as they reached her car.

She had kept the vehicle, despite her considerations to sell it on many occasions because of its connection to Neal. Instead, Emma had decided that it held just as many good memories, as bad ones.

Besides, Henry said it made her seem more youthful; which she was always happy to hear.

Unlocking the driver side, Emma slid inside the car, reaching across to unlock Henry's door. She settled in, and reminded him to fasten his seat belt, before she moved to put the keys into the ignition.

"I'm no expert on these contraptions, luv…"

Emma's screech of surprise rang inside the car as she turned around to face the man who had kissed her earlier. He had a wide grin on his face, his previous seriousness now giving way to a smug demeanor, as he continued with a wink.

"But I do believe you should check the rear before setting sail- I know I certainly do."