Chapter 30

Emma was still recovering her breath when he kissed her once more and then parted from her. He restored her clothing hastily, as though a fear for her modesty had only just set in. Sure, there was still a risk that a guard could open the door at any moment, but he'd shown zero qualms about that mere moments ago. It was enough to make her laugh. At the sound, he looked at her with something that resembled sheepishness. It certainly wasn't an expression often worn by Killian Jones.

He fumbled through the dirt at her feet, straining to see the metallic glint of the lock pick he'd dropped. Having lost some of his composure, it took him longer than it otherwise may have. She knew full well that she was the cause of his botheration, and she giggled again. Killian was not an easy man to disconcert, so having done so gave her some small sense of pride, and a significantly more sizable sense of satisfaction.

At last, he located it, and he set her loose. His grasp lingered on the shackles. "I don't believe these were intended to be quite so enjoyable," he mused, the cheeky glint reigniting in his eye. He then took hold of both of her hands in turn, rotating them this way and that to examine her wrists for injury.

"They're fine. Really," Emma insisted, trying to retract her hand.

He didn't release her yet. "Just making sure." He placed a light kiss on the inside of her wrist before letting go.

Although the space was cramped, now that they were unbound and had illumination, it was almost cozy. They sat on the dirt floor together, shoulder to shoulder, as they waited for whatever was going to happen next. It was impossible to say how much time passed, but it was more than enough for them to grow bored. When they did, Killian revealed the set of dice in another of the covert pockets of his coat, promising that they weren't the loaded ones.

They were keeping themselves thusly occupied, and Killian was falsely accusing Emma of gaining her impressive lead with underhanded means, when the door finally creaked open. His mischief-filled, devilish grin absolutely gleamed as both their heads turned toward the opening. There stood the armored woman, her posture rigid, and her eyes wide in horror to see them as they were.

"What are you doing?" Her hand went to the hilt of her sword.

"We've been having ourselves a few rounds of dice to pass the time." He answered with his waggish humor. "Would you care to join us? Best be careful, though. This one cheats." He pointed at Emma.

Playfully, she slapped his shoulder. "I did not cheat! You just aren't as good as you think you are."

"That's it, Swan. Double or nothing."

"Yeah? Which set of dice are you planning to use this time?"

"Hey!" The guard called their attention back to her, sliding the blade from its sheath. Her eyes flitted about the interior of the shack, from the lamp to the shackles to their smiles. Slowly, it seemed to register that they'd only made themselves more comfortable. They hadn't caused damage, and they hadn't run off. Hesitantly, she relaxed her grip on her weapon, but it still remained in her hand. She gestured its point at both of them. "The two of you are coming with me. We've got questions."

Killian scooped up the dice as he stood, and as she stepped out after him, Emma extinguished the lamp's flame, giving the guard a wink as she did so. The guard fixed her with a hard stare, but said nothing, only used her blade to indicate which way they were to walk. She stayed a couple paces behind them as they followed her direction. It brought them to another, larger log structure. This one had not only windows shining with a cheery light, but also a rough stone chimney rising from its back and billowing sweet-smelling smoke.

When they entered, the interior that greeted them was a single large, warm room with a few long tables and a kitchen area that filled the space with tantalizing aromas. The older woman – the one who had nearly sent one of her crossbow bolts through Killian's boot – fussed over a pot in the roaring hearth. A handful of people milled about the place, so Emma didn't notice Baelfire until he briefly stood from his table near the back and waved his arm in the air above him. He had no restraints and appeared to be enjoying a steaming hot meal alongside the man called August and the woman named Tink. Paying no further mind to their escort, Emma grabbed Killian's sleeve and pulled him over to the table with her.

"Sit," August bid them as they approached, waving his hand at some of the open seating. He himself leaned casually back in his chair, his elbow propped on its back. "Join us."

"So you've decided we're trustworthy, then?" Emma asked, choosing the seat directly across from him.

"I don't think I'd go that far." Tink glared pointedly at Hook as he took the chair beside Emma. "We've decided not to throw you into a pit of spikes. Yet." Eventually Emma was going to have to ask him how he'd offended her so thoroughly, she noted.

"Tink," Baelfire mollified, patting the back of her hand. "Play nice." It didn't soften her glare, but she fell silent.

August nodded contemplatively, and licked his lips. "So," he began haltingly. "You say that you're Emma Swan."

"I am," she confirmed, holding her jaw firm. "Are you planning on turning me in?"

He laughed heartily. "Turn you in? Gods. No, nobody here is turning anyone over to the Evil Queen, no matter how big the bounty gets."

"She thinks we're going to turn 'em in?" The older woman appeared at August's side bearing two more bowls and peering at Emma over the rims of her glasses. "Honey, don't you know what island you're on? Didn't you come here on purpose?" She placed one of the bowls down in front of Emma, the other in front of Hook, then lay two spoons on the table between them.

When the aroma of the chicken pie hit her, Emma's stomach rumbled. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Her first instinct was to refuse any food offered to her by those who had just been holding her captive, but Baelfire appeared to have already dug deep into his meal and suffered no ill effects. She took up her spoon. "I know how your camp feels about the Evil Queen, but I'm still not sure how you feel about me."

"Doesn't matter." The woman shook her head. "Whoever you are, whatever you did, no one deserves to get turned over to her. If people need dealing with, we do it ourselves. We don't send them off to her, and that you can be sure of."

"Thank you, Granny." August smiled kindly at her, but it was clear that his statement was a dismissal, and she walked off. His attention settled on Emma. "Can you prove that you are who you say that you are?"

"Well, there's the poster. I know my hair is shorter now, but I wasn't able to change my face much." She shoveled a bite of food into her mouth. It tasted just as good as it smelled.

August shook his head. "No. It's too easy to make visuals lie. Stories, on the other hand, stories always have some truth to them, even the false ones. I'd like to hear a part of your story, Emma."

"I told you that it's her," Baelfire protested. "She's not a fraud."

"A part of my story?" Emma asked, ignoring Bae. "What do you mean? What do you want to know?"

"I'd like to hear how you chose your surname."

"What?" She stared blankly at him. "That's a strange question."

"Is it? I mean, most people get their surnames from their parents, but that's not where you got Swan from. How did you come up with it?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Just answer his question," Tink groused.

August quieted her with a look, then returned his focus to Emma. "If you'll tell me how you chose the name, I will happily tell you how I know you weren't born with it."

Emma furrowed her brow and chewed her lip, but she didn't see a reasonable way to avoid the detour down memory lane. So, with a heavy preparatory breath, she told the tale. "Okay, then. As you seem to know, I didn't grow up with parents. The first memories I have were at a children's home where I was a ward, and I don't know how I got there. It was a pretty terrible place. There were way too many of us for them to actually take care of, and no one was nice to each other. I tried to stay away from everybody else, and that was easiest to do outside, especially over by the pond. Nobody went over there."

She poked her spoon into her bowl, wanting another bite, but more eager to get her reminiscing over with. "It was because of the swans. I just thought they were beautiful, but everyone else was terrified of them. They didn't realize that swans only attack when they're protecting something. As long as I stayed away from where they hid their nest beneath the frog bridge, they didn't care about me at all. I used to love to sit watching them. Does that answer your question?" She filled her mouth as she finished.

"Perfectly. I believe that you are Emma Swan."

"Why, though? And tell me how you knew about my parents."

"Because I remember the pond, and a bridge covered in frogs. I had a feeling those birds were where the name came from. I just wanted to see if you could describe the place where I left you."